by Cooper West
Nichols smiled at him, a sly, easy grin set on a face that was angular but not hard, covered in what was probably a two-day beard. He looked scruffy but not unkempt, and the smattering of gray through his hair gave him a distinguished edge. Jack continued nodding dumbly as they shook.
“Mr. Nichols!” Diana jumped out of her chair, gasping as if at a boy-band concert. Not that Jack had ever taken her to one, but he figured that was close to how she would behave.
Nichols turned to her with the same easy smile. “Diana Martinez?”
“Yes! Yes! I’m a huge fan, I—”
“Give the man a chance to introduce himself, Diana.” Jack sighed, sitting back down.
“Like he needs introductions? Jack, it’s Art Nichols.” Nichols laughed. “Yeah, I’ve been Art Nichols for years. Just call me Art, okay?” He waved at Diana to sit down, and she plopped into her chair with stars in her eyes. Not that Jack blamed her; he was feeling the same way. Art Nichols was gorgeous; a long, lean man at the height of his maturity and strength and… Jack blinked and purposefully focused on Gavin.
“You said you were going to show us around tomorrow?” “Oh, yes! First the offices, then we’ll head out to Art’s for lunch.” Art raised a finger and shook it in the air. Jack tried not to stare. “That reminds me, Maria asked if either of you have allergies, or food you hate, or anything.”
“I hate cheddar cheese,” Diana said quickly. Art and Gavin looked at her, making her blush. “It’s yellow. That’s just… weird.”
Jack just nodded wearily, all too used to Diana’s bizarre color-combination food theory. “Okay then. How about white cheddar?” Art asked. “Oh, that’s okay.”
Art pulled out his phone to leave a message for whoever Maria was. By the time he hung up, the waiter had returned and they ordered their food. Jack tried to keep his expression professional and polite, but it was hard not to lean over the table and make moon eyes at Art. Apparently Diana was not even trying not to hold back, clearly smitten by every word Art uttered.
“Anyway, Art’s got that park in back, you can ride there,” Gavin told Diana as they all attacked the appetizer of really fancy potato skins (sans yellow cheese).
Art nodded. “It’s been cleaned off, so we’re good to go. Also,” he said, turning to face Diana. She stared at him, enraptured. “I’m bringing over Josh Warner to work with you, give you something to do while we sit down over paperwork like the boring adults we are.”
“You’re not boring!” Diana squealed before checking herself. “Wait, Josh Warner is going to be coaching me?” Jack frowned. Josh Warner was about his age or a little younger, and was deadly handsome as well as an incredibly successful skater.
“Yeah, he’s retired out because of that knee injury two years ago. Now he coaches and writes articles for the magazine.” Gavin’s expression was solemn.
Diana nodded sadly. “Man, that was a bad wreck.” “And Josh’s job will be to teach you how notto do that,” Art said kindly. “Good.” Jack snapped a little more harshly than he intended, the idea of Diana permanently damaging herself making him sick to his stomach. He looked up to see Art gazing at him in understanding.
“Mark’s nearly eighteen. I taught him how to skate; you’d think I’m used to seeing him fall down. But every time it happens, I feel like puking.”
Jack tried to think of something to say that did not make him sound like a fool, but just nodded instead. Dinner went on with more casual discussion, although Diana saved the day with her clever redirect when Gavin asked her about their mother. Art gave Jack a serious, considering look at that, but did not say anything. By the time they all headed back out to their cars—or, for Art and Gavin, the valet stand—Diana had devolved into a food coma and even Gavin was yawning.
“Okay, I’ll pick you two up at the hotel at, what, ten? Sound good?” Gavin said, pointing at Jack and Diana. Jack nodded as he herded Diana through the entranceway. “Perfect. We’ll see you for lunch, then, Art?” “Sure thing, Jack.” Art shook his hand. Jack told himself he was imagining that Art held on to his hand for a few extra seconds before turning to Diana. “Get some rest.”
“Sure thing!” She yawned at him. Jack gave Art a sheepish grin as he shoved her toward the parking lot. He knew Diana was looking forward to eating lunch at Nichols’s and then riding in his own personal skate park as the peak of her life experiences, but Jack was less enthused. It would be a whole day spent trying not to hit on the sexy but twicedivorced straight guy, and Jack was not sure he trusted himself to pull that off without making a fool of himself at some point.
ART managed to drag himself out of bed before eleven, but Maria refused him anything but an apple since by that point lunch was just an hour away. Gavin texted him, saying the office tour was a hit and that they would probably make it to the house a little after twelve.
Scurrying out of Maria’s way, clutching his coffee and measly apple, Art went out back to check out the skate park. He was proud of it since he designed it himself, but cringed a little at what to him were obvious signs of disuse. He walked it and tossed out a couple of small branches and clumps of debris that had blown in overnight. Diana would walk it herself before she rode it, but he wanted to put his mind at ease, something that was as ingrained in him after all his years skating as brushing his teeth in the morning. As he stood in the middle and surveyed his realm, he had the insane notion to get a board and try it out himself, wondering if Diana’s brother Jack liked skaters.
He shook his head. The guy was at least ten years his junior, getting his doctorate in engineering, and handsome in a way that was subtle and genuine rather than primped. Short but solid with a mass of messy black hair, Jack looked like a South American soccer player—and Art loved watching soccer players.
“Dammit.” He cursed his pathetic libido as he walked back to the house, skirting by his collection of skateboards that were kept, ready and always waiting, in a small display area off the living room. He ignored them as usual, but part of him dared to ask why. Art ignored that too.
Gavin, Jack, and Diana showed up as promised right after noon and Maria put out a buffet-style spread in the formal dining room that Art used about four times a year. Jack was clearly trying not to eat like a starving grad student, and Diana was too distracted staring out the windows at the skate park to bother with something as mundane as food. Gavin stuffed his face while Art picked at his salad and tried not to stare at Jack, and fortunately sooner rather than later they were all heading out back.
“Pick a board.” Art waved to the racks. Diana sucked in a breath, nearly overwhelmed, but reached out. She waffled over three boards but finally picked a battered, well-ridden one that was about five years old. It was actually the last board Art had ridden regularly, and despite the fact that all his skateboards underwent maintenance and were kept in good condition, he had not touched it in years. Gavin gave him a knowing look, but did not say anything.
Diana had brought her own protective gear, and while she strapped on the guards and adjusted her helmet, Art climbed up the stairs to the viewing platform. Jack followed behind him, but Gavin stayed down to chat with Diana as she scooted around on the board, warming up.
“I really can’t thank you enough for this. I think just seeing your place would have been enough for her, but now she’ll die happy.” Jack smiled fondly down at his sister. The two really looked alike if you were looking for it—the same profile, the same crazy hair, the same build. Art dragged his gaze away.
“We all have our heroes. Took me a while to figure out I was one, to a lot of these kids. Gavin saw it before I did.” Art snapped his mouth shut, wondering when he became prone to verbal diarrhea. Jack just nodded, though.
“You really are. Hell, even I was intimidated at the thought of meeting The Great Art Nichols.” Jack tossed the comment out as he stared at his sister, who was venturing out a little to try the half pipe. Art felt himself drifting closer.
“Hope I didn’t disappoint,” he said
, and wanted to hurl himself off the platform as soon as it was out of his mouth. Jack looked at him, startled, reading into it exactly what Art had put there. They stared at each other for a moment before Art pulled back, waving a hand between them. “I mean, I’m sure it will be a good business partnership.”
Jack frowned. “No, I don’t think that’s what you—” “Hey, Jack!” Diana yelled from the ground, pulling their attention back to her. Art was pathetically grateful for that, shuffling a little farther away from Jack.
Then Art was watching her himself as she sped around doing tricks and trying the place out. She was very good, better than Art expected, and if a business plan was not already on the table, he would have considered sponsoring her himself. He thought he might shove a few people her way, ones who ran businesses that might want to sponsor her, because the way she rode a board showed she was going to go far no matter which circuit she was on.
“She’s pretty good, huh?” Jack said, sounding gleeful and proud.
“Actually? Yeah, she is.” Art answered, watching her. He felt rather than saw Jack turn to look at him. “Wow, you mean that. You… can’t tell Diana!” Jack whispered, even though Diana was too far away and too distracted to even see them talking.
“What?” Art looked back at him. Jack blushed then turned away again. “One, I’d never hear the end of it. Two, we’re arguing about college, and that would just be ammo for her.” Jack sighed heavily, and Art recognized the weight of parental responsibility weighing the other man down. Jack might be Diana’s brother, but obviously he was the one doing the heavy lifting of raising her.
“Gotcha. Believe me, I went down that road with Mark. And lost.” “Your son? He’s a great skater.”
Art nodded slowly. “So was Josh.”
Jack winced.
“Now Josh is depending on his contacts and his fading star to keep him employed. He’s got about ten years of coaching potential, but after that? I know he managed to stash some of his earnings, but it won’t feed his wife and kid. Gavin and I are trying to steer him to start his own skate camp, something he can brand and franchise and retire on. But he dropped out of high school to skate, and banks don’t look at how good you used to be on a board when they are considering loaning you money for your risky startup venture. He’s too damn proud to ask us for backing, though I’ve offered.” Art shrugged. “I give him three more years of this hand-to-mouth crap before he comes to his senses and lets Gavin put a loan package together for him.”
When he looked at Jack again, the kid had paled to a skin tone that was never meant for him.
“Shit, I’m sorry, I talk too much. Look, Diana—” “Is just as vulnerable to getting hurt as Josh was. No, thanks for telling me his story. I need something like that as leverage over her. She’s really smart, gets mostly A’s, and she can do something with a college degree if it comes to that.”
“I hope it doesn’t.” Art put a hand on his shoulder, trying to be supportive in their mutual parental woes. Jack looked at Art’s hand, then up at him, his eyes going dark and his skin flushing. Art wanted to yank his hand back, only not really, because Jack’s shoulder was solid and firm under his touch. He could actually feel Jack’s heartbeat speeding up.
“Art….” Art finally pulled his hand back at the tortured sound of Jack’s voice. “Not here, not now. Look at your sister.” Art lowered the steel door of precaution over his attraction to Jack, stepping backward to put space between them and breaking eye contact.
Jack huffed out a breath but turned his attention back to Diana, who had never even looked up at them. IT WAS not that Jack was getting mixed signals; he was getting a very direct and clear signal and then being told to hide it. He had never considered the idea that Art might go for a guy; if Art was bisexual, he kept it out of the media, which meant he was in the closet. Jack did not really understand that at an emotional level. He knew some people felt it was necessary in order to be successful in their jobs or whatever, but he simply could not imagine that kind of choice. He came out when he was fifteen and never looked back, and while he got teased in high school, it had as much to do with being a straight-A geek as with being gay.
He was still wandering around in an absent daze of confusion when Josh showed up. He barely limped, but showed Diana the scars on his knee when she asked about his last surgery. They ooohed and aaaahed over it like the skaters they were—scars were cool, Diana constantly reminded him—but it just made Jack nauseous to think of that kind of damage on Diana. Art picked up on it and herded him toward the house. Gavin told Josh they would be at least an hour, and Jack could hear Diana’s squeal of delight from inside the living room.
They sat down in Art’s office/den area, where there was a small table just big enough for their cans of soda and the paperwork. Jack asked a few questions, but nothing too piercing. Both sets of lawyers had combed over the contract for weeks now, and what was left was something they would either agree on or not. In the end, they agreed, and Gavin gleefully poured champagne for them after Jack put his final initial on the contract.
Then Gavin grabbed the paperwork and ran out the door after a cryptic exchange with Art that Jack thought was about meeting up the next day, or could have been about putting new sod on the lawn. Neither man seemed confused, though, so clearly abbreviated conversation was a normal interaction for them.
Art stood, sipping the last of his champagne while Jack’s brain tried not to go into shock at what he had just done. Whatever happened to his academic career, he was now a big-league circuit promoter in charge of hundreds of thousands of dollars. In a panic, he realized he might need a secretary. And an accountant.
“You okay?” Art smiled at him, and the amused warmth of the sentiment calmed Jack down a little. “I think. Yeah. Well, I just signed on for the biggest change I could make to my life outside of getting married or fleeing the country. It’s a little… uh.” He slugged the last of his champagne.
Art laughed. “Gavin has that effect on many people’s lives. I think he’s kind of a vampire; he thrives on the energy of our panic.”
Jack tried not to snort champagne out his nose at that. Art laughed so hard he sat down. “So what now?” Jack asked, fiddling with the nowempty glass. He glanced over and saw Art giving him a speculative once over. “Dude, my sister’s right outside.” He pointed out the window. Art shook his head, looking panicked at getting caught out.
“Jesus, are you that in the closet?”
Art tapped his knee. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, no one knows.” “Not even Gavin?” Jack leaned against the table, wondering why he was asking if he was leaving tomorrow anyway.
Art nodded. “He found out after I broke up with… my boyfriend.” Art clearly self-censored the name he had been going to say. Jack shook his head.
“Dude… why?” Art looked defensive for all of a second then slumped backward. “I started getting a name for myself in 1985, when I was the same age as Diana is now. Trust me, Jack—things were different then. Gay skater boys were not the hot wet porn stars they are now.”
Jack laughed at that. “No comment.” Art smiled again, relaxing a little. “It just got to be habit. And I’m bi, so being with girls was hardly much of a sacrifice. I loved my wives, and not one marriage failed because I was ‘secretly gay’ or anything. They just went sour on their own. Meanwhile, the world changed.” Art waved his hand at Jack, apparently signifying that Jack was part of the change.
“And you didn’t.” Art rubbed his thighs and gazed at the floor, looking young and sheepish rather than a business mogul in his late thirties. “I guess not.”
Jack carefully sat down next to him so that their thighs were almost touching. “You know I’m flying home tomorrow. This your idea of a hook up?”
Art closed his eyes, scrunching up his face unpleasantly. “Despite the sordid divorce history here, I’m not much for fly-by-night affairs.”
“Realllly.” Jack smirked, because everyone had read gossip about Art’s many (
female) conquests. “Just because a girl is photographed with me, doesn’t mean I’m banging her.” Art’s voice was harsh and angry, so Jack decided to back off.
“Okay, fine. But I’m still flying out tomorrow.” Whatever Art had going on in his convoluted brain snapped. He turned and grabbed Jack’s upper arms, pushed him back into the small sofa, and leaned over to kiss him. Jack was not a huge fan of being manhandled, but he let it happen, embarrassingly eager to get on with kissing Art Nichols. After a moment of tussling, they settled in an awkward angle across the couch with Art mostly on top, pawing at Jack’s chest while Jack made grabs for Art’s hips. It was a little immature and a lot hot and heavy, and Jack was fighting his own hips after a few moments, trying not to buck up. The kiss was messy too, with tongue and teeth and slobber, but it was the best damn kiss Jack had gotten in months.
At some point Art slowed down, holding Jack’s face with both hands, and pulled back until he was sitting. Jack lay back on the couch, gasping for air with his hard-on fighting his zipper in a war to the death. “Fuck. Me. That was… hot.”
Art nodded, his expression going from aroused and smug to unhappy. “But you’re flying out tomorrow.” Jack gaped at him. “You’re bringing that up now?” Art stood up, uncomfortably adjusting himself in his pants. “I got carried away. I’m just… it’s been a while.” “A while, as in, what? Days? Months?”
“Years.” Art said it nonchalantly and held out his hand to offer Jack help getting up.
Jack stood up slowly, not willing to let go of Art’s hand too soon. “Years. With a guy or…?”
“Anyone. The last break-up… the guy I was with, it was messy. Hard. I’ve been a little gun-shy since.” “Could have fooled me!” Jack laughed disbelievingly. Art kissed a little desperately, but not like a guy who had not gotten any in over a year.
