by Andrew Grey
“Speaking of rescues, do you think you could give me a little help?” Bri glanced around, his deep brown eyes a little dazed as the vultures seemed to close in.
“No problem.” Obie walked to his left side, taking Bri’s arm. “Let’s see if we can find a table.” Obie gave the onlookers his best “He’s with me, bitches” look and guided his new client over to a table with a Reserved sign on it. Hunter slid right in with Monty, and Obie made sure Bri got settled before he took a place next to him.
“What can I get you?” a buff server asked, a black T-shirt, at least two sizes too small, straining over his chest and biceps.
“Club soda with lime,” Bri ordered.
“I’ll have the same. I need to make sure I can get my friends home in one piece.” Obie thanked the server as he was leaving.
“They seem a little feral,” Bri said, and Obie chuckled. Damn, he couldn’t help it.
“They’re good guys, believe it or not. Even if they’re a little over the top sometimes.” He turned to see David and Chippy on their way over, each with their hands full.
“We brought you drinks,” Chippy said, putting down a cosmo in front of Monty and a beer for Hunter.
“I didn’t know what you wanted,” David told Bri. Then he seemed to notice how close Bri and Obie were sitting. “Hey, I saw him first.” He glared at Obie.
“Stop it and get a chair.” Obie wasn’t going to tell them how he knew Bri; that was up to him. For now, Bri was a friend of Hunter’s and that was all his friends needed to know. “This isn’t a buffet where you grab the last piece of cake and guard it with your life until you get it back to the table.” He rolled his eyes.
“Sure it is. This is a man buffet,” Chippy said. He gestured dramatically. “Look at that guy over there.” David drained his glass, then looked around, as if on the prowl and ready to hunt. Then he set his martini glass on the table and prancing-ponied away into the crowd.
“See? Feral,” Bri said.
“I’m going to make sure he doesn’t get punched in the face,” Chippy said, then left the table as well.
“Good luck with that,” Obie called over the music. He cleared his throat. If he kept this up, he was going to be hoarse by the end of the evening. “So what brings you here?” Obie asked Bri. “This doesn’t look like resting and letting your knee heal.” Obie got up and pulled one of the vacated chairs over for Bri to prop up his leg.
“God, that feels good.”
Even though the club was packed and the sound system blaring, Obie still heard, or maybe felt, Bri’s grateful sigh. “Put some heat on it when you get home,” Obie said gently. “And for goodness’ sake, rest it tomorrow. When I see you on Friday, we’ll be working hard. I want you up for it.”
“Yeah, Brighton, you need to do what the therapist says,” Monty teased.
Bri growled. “If you’re going to get loose lips, I’m taking your drink away.” Bri glared at Monty, who snatched his cosmo off the table, turning to the side to protect it.
“Sorry.”
“Your name is Brighton Early,” Obie said with a smile.
“Yeah. I hate my name. I went by either B or Bri in school, and I beat the crap out of anyone who called me anything else. I love my mother to death—she’s totally awesome—so I haven’t had it changed, but dammit, can you imagine being saddled with a name like that as a kid?”
Obie smiled, and Bri growled, “Don’t laugh.”
“I’m not. Well, at least, not at your name. I hate my name too, though I keep it for my dad’s sake,” Obie explained and glanced at Monty and Hunter. “If any of you ever open your mouths about this, I will be forced to kill you, I swear.” He did his best to sound threatening.
“This should be good,” Monty said.
“Be nice. Obie is your friend, and remember what he did for me last year. You behave,” Hunter scolded and leaned close, whispering into Monty’s ear for a few seconds. Monty turned beet red. His mouth widened and his eyes grew as big as saucers. Obie knew Hunter was promising him some very naughty things.
“I’ll be good, I promise,” Monty said really quickly.
“Well, now that you’re all sworn to secrecy, you have to pinkie swear. If you tell, I get to break your pinkies. Got it?” He glared all around the table, and they each agreed. “Okay. My entire name is Obediah Juan Kenoble.” He waited, and Bri gasped.
“You’re Obie Juan Kenoble? Oh… my… fucking… God!” Bri turned away, and a few seconds later, his shoulders rolled and he put his head down on the table. Obie smacked him across the back, but couldn’t help laughing himself. And they weren’t alone. Hunter laughed outright, and Monty had collapsed in a fit of giggles, sliding under the table and ending up on the floor.
“Come on,” Hunter said as he tugged Monty back into his seat. “You’re fine now.” Hunter shook his head and looked at Obie. “What on earth possessed your parents to name you that?”
“Really bad luck. Obediah was my grandfather’s name on my dad’s side, and Dad was a huge Star Wars fan. He still sees every movie at least three times a year. I love him, so I’d never have it changed, but I go by Obie.” He added with emphasis, “Remember your promises, if you want to keep your pinkies intact.” He glared at Hunter and Monty before turning to Bri. “You keep my secret, and I’ll keep yours.”
“Deal,” Bri said with a yawn. “Sorry. I’m really tired and should be going home. My therapist says I need to get plenty of rest. He’s a real ballbuster, so I’d better do what he says or he’ll make me pay for it.” Bri winked and grabbed his crutches, just as they were suddenly blinded by an onslaught of camera flashes. Hunter and Monty leaned closer and let their pictures get taken. Bri leaned back and tried to hide behind Obie.
“Why are you here?” one of the photographers asked.
“To show support for a friend,” Hunter answered easily.
“Is that why you’re here, Bri?” the guy pressed, leaning forward to try to get a better picture.
“We’re all here to support a good cause,” Bri answered, his words a little halting. But then the club bouncers took control and led the three guys with cameras away.
“Sorry, sirs,” one of the bouncers said and nodded before leaving them alone once again. Obie could tell Bri’s tension had gone through the roof. His hands clenched and opened, his leg bounced slightly on the chair, and he sat as stiff as a board, the mirth of a few minutes earlier evaporating in a flash.
“I really should go.” Bri got his crutches and slid out of the booth, slipping them under his arms, making his way through the crowd. Obie figured it had to be the first time in his life he had seen a man as tall as Bri’s six foot six actually try to pull himself down to the point where he blended in with the crowd.
Obie met Monty’s gaze, and Monty shrugged. Obie honestly hadn’t given a second thought to Bri being gay during his appointment, but seeing him at the club, Obie figured it might have been a possibility. And when he’d let Obie take him by one of his huge arms…. Obie imagined fanning himself, but now he wasn’t so sure what the deal was at all. Obie thought about asking Monty, but the place loud, and he wasn’t going to yell across the table.
“I think I’m going to go too,” Obie said. He stood and gave both Hunter and Monty a quick hug. “Would you tell my ‘feral’ friends where I went?” He turned to look over at the dance floor and saw Chippy making his way back with a guy on his arm. Obie waved, and Chippy nodded, blowing him a kiss. They started dancing as Obie made for the exit, catching up with Bri in the cooling evening air.
“I have two words for them. Air. Conditioning,” Obie said, and Bri paused his mad, hobbling escape down the sidewalk.
“If they did, they wouldn’t sell as many drinks. Places like that always keep it warmer than necessary.” He paused. “Thanks for saving me in there. I really appreciate it.” Bri continued walking in his stiff-backed discomfort.
“There’s no need to be nervous or worried and stuff.” Obie caught up with him.
“I’m not going to let anything that happened tonight affect our professional relationship. I’m your therapist and you’re my client. We ran into each other at a club, that’s all. And it was really cool of you to come and support the charity. Even if you were a little uncomfortable.”
“Well….”
“So, don’t worry about anything. It’s all good. I had a nice time, and I’ll see you on Friday for our appointment.” He half snickered, thinking of teasing Bri about his name, but stopped himself. There was no need to go there right now. But that cat was out of the bag, and it wasn’t going back in.
“Okay.” Bri continued a little farther before opening the door of a gorgeous black Mercedes. “How are you getting home?”
“I was going to take the train.” He pointed to the subway station just up the block.
“Hop in. I’m going that way and I can drop you off.” He climbed inside, putting his crutches in the back, while Obie slid into the passenger seat. He hadn’t been expecting this, but decided to enjoy it as he settled into the lap of luxury and Bri navigated them out of the city.
“I had forgotten about the club opening this afternoon until Hunter called to remind me.” He winced, and Obie could tell Bri’s leg was probably hurting. The deep lines around his mouth were a telltale sign.
Thankfully the traffic through town was light at this hour and Bri was able to get him home relatively quickly. “Thanks so much for the ride. I really appreciate it.” Obie opened the door and got out. “Be sure to put some heat on your knee when you get home. It will help.”
“I’m fine,” Bri said automatically.
“No, you’re not. You overdid it today and you knee is aching. It’s written all over your face. I know you’re a big, strong athlete, but you need to take care of that leg or it isn’t going to get better. Use some heat, elevate the leg, and get yourself some sleep.” He patted Bri’s shoulder. “God, what are you made of—rocks?” His arms were like granite. “Sorry. Get some rest and I’ll see you Friday.” He got out of the car and went inside as Bri pulled away.
Obie stopped at the front door, thinking. Bri had been mortified when those guys with cameras had tried to take his picture. And the way he’d sat in stony silence the entire ride? Obie unlocked the door and mentally drew a line through Bri’s Friday therapy appointment. The guy was probably going to cancel. He had a sense about these things.
Chapter 3
BRI WOULD have been pacing the floor if he hadn’t been on crutches. He checked the time again and sighed. He had to leave now if he was going to make it on time. He’d picked up the phone to cancel more than once, but hadn’t done it. After he’d rested his knee, it felt better and the muscles had actually relaxed. “Man up,” he told himself as he got his keys and left the kitchen, heading into the garage. He’d never been one to shy away from hard work or the tough things in life, and he hadn’t gotten where he was by resting on his laurels and hoping that things would work out. It also didn’t help that Jack had called him last night to remind him of the importance of getting back into playing form. So off he went to his therapy appointment.
Twenty minutes later, hobbling into Obie’s garden, he took a deep breath as wild ginger and maybe even jasmine wrapped around him, the scent going deep inside and carrying away some of his anxiety. “Good afternoon,” Obie said from the far side of the garden, where he was bent over a flower bed, a small pile of wilting weeds next to him. “My last appointment canceled, so I decided to get some work done out here since it’s such a great afternoon.”
“Wow,” Bri said.
“What?” Obie turned to him, blinking.
“I thought the yellow hair was bright, but….” Obie’s orange-red hair shimmered in the sun as if it had bits of fire in it. “How did you get that color, if I may ask?”
Obie put his hands to his hair as if he were trying to cover it up. “Oh God. I usually color it, but I’ve been experimenting a little and I haven’t decided what I want to do with it. So, I let it grow out.”
“It’s….” Bri didn’t have the words, but it didn’t matter. It was so rare that he noticed anyone’s hair color that he didn’t really know what to say. “I like it.”
Obie lowered his hands and stood up slowly. “I used to get teased a lot, so I started dying it when I was still in high school. I don’t think it’s actually been this color in years. I tried out the yellow, but didn’t like it. And before that it was pink. I liked that, but it was a pain to maintain and didn’t last very long.”
Bri grinned. “Pink. That must have been bright.”
Obie picked up the weeds and carried them to the back of the garden, returning a few moments later. “It was, but I wanted something unique. There must have been a dozen guys at the club last night with pink hair and even more with purple. I don’t want to look like everyone else.”
“Then be yourself. That guarantees you’ll be different.” Bri smiled, repeating the words his mother had told him when he’d begged to get his ears pierced as a teenager. She had threatened to beat his butt black-and-blue. She also told him if he came home with a tattoo, she’d skin him alive, so it would be gone anyway. Or so she’d said.
“You really like it?” Obie asked.
“I think it’s amazing.” Bri grinned and headed for the back door. Obie followed him inside and went right into the bathroom, washing his hands thoroughly.
“I see you wore shorts this time. That’s good.” Obie came out of the bathroom and closed the door. “Go ahead and hop up on the table. I want to get your muscles nice and relaxed before we go to work.”
Bri got up on the table, and Obie set his crutches aside. “Do you go out to clubs like that—?” Bri started to ask, then groaned as Obie’s hands began working his muscles. “God, I didn’t realize how tight those muscles were until you got your hands on them.” He sighed and closed his eyes, breathing deeply as relief warred with flashes of pain that diminished slowly.
“That’s good. And to answer your question, I go out sometimes. The guys wanted to check out that club and they dragged me along. Not that it did either of them any good. I understand that both Chippy and David came home alone and ended up in the bathroom asleep before the porcelain throne before the night was over.” He chuckled and continued working, his fingers getting deep into the muscles of Bri’s thigh. “They’re not as tight as they were the last time. Have you been doing the exercises?”
“Yes, and I put a heating pad on a couple times a day.” His words drifted off as Obie’s magic hands made the pain he’d been living with slip away.
“Good. I’m going to massage your leg for a while, and then we’ll get down to the real work of the day. I hate to say it, but you are going to be sore when we’re done. But we need to get these muscles actually working again and retrained to take the weight properly.” He continued his steady strokes, and Bri did his best not to moan. He knew he made the same sounds when he was having sex. Bri was already turned on and doing his best to ignore his half-awake dick. Instead, he tried to just focus on the pain relief.
“Okay. I’ll do whatever you think is best.” He raised his arms over his head, stretching his torso. “I’m putting myself in your hands.” Bri tried to think of a time when he had ever said those words to anyone and he couldn’t, at least not recently.
He closed his eyes, his mind drifting like it did when he got a massage. For some odd reason, his mind went back to his old friend, Billy Peterson. He hadn’t thought of him in a very long time. He and Billy had lived on the same street and discovered they both felt the same way about other boys. At fifteen, they thought they knew everything, but of course, they actually knew nothing at all. Bri used to build forts; it was what the kids in the neighborhood did. He and Billy had scrounged up old pieces of wood and cobbled them together. One afternoon, they’d been bored and the two of them had ended up in the fort together, kissing, exploring. They didn’t get very far, and afterward they both swore each other to secrecy. But the next time, they’
d been caught by Billy’s big brother. Bri had been sent home, and Billy had been sent away to camp for the rest of the summer, then enrolled in a private school. “Did you have gay friends growing up?” Bri asked without really thinking, his mind on Billy.
“That depends on what you mean. I had friends when I was in college. We used to march, or roll through pride parades on roller skates, wearing wings and carrying wands. The Rollerinas, we called each other, and we spread glitter wherever we went.” Obie sighed. “Those were the days when we were carefree and didn’t think anyone would hurt us.”
Bri sat up, Obie’s tone scaring him a little. “Who hurt you?” he growled, without meaning to.
He paused. “One of the sports guys, I’m afraid. He and some friends decided that they didn’t like men like me having a good time. It was Philly Pride and we were in the parade.” Obie’s hands stopped, his palms resting on Bri’s leg. Obie didn’t even seem to realize what he was doing. “I knew him from a freshman class I had, and I think he followed us along the parade. And when it broke up at the end, he waited while we went in to change. He had a baseball bat.” Obie’s hands shook, and Bri thought he was going to be sick. “My friend, Harper, was in the hospital for a month. I was lucky—I got out to get help or, otherwise it would have been worse.”
“What happened to him?”
“Harper was a brilliant artist. He had a stunning career ahead of him. The things he saw when he looked out the window would take your breath away.” Obie began moving his hands again. “Now he spends most of his days sitting at a table coloring flowers with crayons he struggles to hold in his hands.” A tear ran down Obie’s face. “That asshole took away his future, his life, everything he was after the age of about nine.”
“And the guy who hurt him?” Bri asked, remembering his own college years and the intolerance that sometimes prevailed in the locker room.
“He’s in prison. They convicted him of a hate crime, and hopefully he’ll never see the light of day again.”
