Chapter Two

Drake

Do I really want to go back? The desperation in my best friend’s face answers the question exactly opposite of how my mind wants me to respond.

“Okay. I'll do it.” Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on my knees and clasp my hands.

“I really appreciate it, man.” Cooper, my best friend since we discovered we were the only two gay boys in our middle school, claps my shoulder and squeezes. “I just can't trust anybody else. I’ve lost twenty pounds, I can’t sleep and I’m not digging this salt-and-pepper look.”

“Okay.” I grimace as I take a deeper look at the exhausted man sitting across from me. “You do kinda look like shit.”

“This is serious. It can destroy everything I built. Everything we built.”

I nod and reach over to hold his hand for a moment. “Yeah, I know. We'll figure it out, buddy. Just tell me where to start.”

Despite my outward confidence, I’m starting to feel a little nauseous myself. I haven't been involved in anything software related in three years.

Back when Cooper and I started TriTask Notes, we thought we could change the face of small business project management. For a while, we did. But after spending six months working eighteen-hour days and completely ignoring my mother during her final stage of cancer, I pretty much had a mental breakdown.

I was a mess for months after her death. My guilt and grief felt like a thousand-pound weight on my heart, but then I had to listen to my sister and brother talk about how much they cherished those final months with her.

They got to hear stories of her childhood that she never shared before, and Mom gave them advice for their future milestones. The words Mom wanted to impart on her progeny while she still had the chance never made it to me. She gave Emily advice for when she has her first baby and told Rod what she expects out of him when he finally falls in love.

Now, even though she won’t physically be there with them, they know what Mom would say. I didn't get any moments like that with her. I was busy at work while she was fighting to spend a few more precious moments with her children.

I’m the worst excuse for a son ever.

I didn't even stand up and speak at her memorial. I couldn't. What would I have said? I was too busy pushing out the next rev of TriTask Notes Pro and couldn't be bothered to visit my mother. Maybe I should have explained that hearing the advice she wanted to give me for my wedding day and the day my first child is born wasn't as important as fixing bugs and keeping customers happy.

According to Rod, she died believing I didn't care about her. She thought I didn't love her as much as I loved my company. She blamed herself for not raising me to be a good man who would show up when a family member was sick.

I'll never forgive myself for putting my job first, and I've never looked back with regret about handing over the reins to Cooper when I did. Although, if his current sallow coloring is an indication of how he’s handled my absence, the burden of self-loathing might rear its ugly head again. I thought I was doing Coop a favor by giving him full control of the company. It never occurred to me that I was abandoning my best friend when he needed me most.

In hindsight, it was naïve of me to believe he’d be better off. Of course I was abandoning the only other person in my life who actually means something to me outside of my family. It’s what I do. It’s what I’ve always done. And it seems my timing continues to be impeccable.

Well, if I really care about Cooper, I’ll drop everything else and put his needs first.

It might actually be kinda fun.

~**~

I’ve been investing in real estate since I left TriTask. The best thing about flipping houses is not having anyone to answer to. I only work a few hours a day because I hire reliable people to do the work for me. And every few months, I collect a fat paycheck for my efforts.

It’s the perfect gig.

And it gives me time to pursue the Jacklyn R. McMillan Foundation. My mother ardently believed in educating all children in the arts. That’s why I started a foundation to create art programs for underprivileged children.

It’s the only thing in my life I think might have made my mother proud. It doesn't make up for the time she spent alone, scared, and in pain while wishing her middle child was there to hold her hand. Fuck, she probably would have been happy if I’d have just said hello now and then.

No, nothing will make up for the way I treated my family in the past, but it makes me feel like I'm carrying on the tradition of giving she created. She would approve of the foundation if she were still around. God knows she wouldn't have approved of most of my other life choices.

~**~

As I position the hard plastic mask over the top of my face, I reconsider for the thousandth time. I don't know why the hell I'm doing this. It's stupid, and if the mask falls off or I'm outed in some way, that could be the end of Mom's foundation. My mom wasn't a bad person, but she was deeply religious.

Some people might say those aren’t mutually exclusive terms. But Mom was the most loving, caring person I've ever known. Just because she tried to live a little too closely to some of the passages in the Bible didn’t make her evil. Of course, some of her ideals were not only antiquated, but could be just plain bigoted. Despite her occasional cringe-worthy comments, I loved her. And though my father and I have had our differences, especially after Mom’s passing, I respect that he has his beliefs and I have mine.

Of course, he doesn't know that I not only believe homosexuality is okay, but that I am one of the sodomites he prays for.

And I intend to keep it that way.

I'll take that secret to my grave if I have to. That's the least I can do to protect my mother and her image of what was right and wrong.

Adjusting the cape so it covers most of the exposed skin of my back, I glance in the mirror one more time. I shouldn't do this. Going to a Halloween party in a gay bar is not only childish, but it's reckless if my goal is to stay in the closet. And it definitely is.

Under no circumstances will I reveal my identity, but I really need to get out. I start my new job at TriTask on Monday, and it's gonna be hell for the foreseeable future. This might be my last chance at a quick hookup before I'm thrown back into the cycle of long hours and lines of code.

I'll just stay for an hour to see if anyone looks interesting. Maybe get my rocks off, maybe not. Either way, I'll be home before midnight and ready to get back into ax-man mode.

~**~

By the time I get to the club, it's packed with sweaty bodies grinding up against each other. Most of the guys are in various states of undress, making it hard to decide where to look first. The majority of costumes are nothing more than a pair of underwear and some glitter. There are a few pairs of wings and the occasional vest throughout the room. Slutty Biker seems to be the overwhelming theme for the night.

I’ve never been that into bikers, but I have to admit, it’s hot. Trying not to gawk, I head straight to the bar and order a few shots of Jaeger. If I'm gonna last a whole hour, I need to get a buzz on. And Jaeger is a surefire way to get me there quickly.

A woman bartender lines up three shots in front of me. “You want to start a tab?”

I shake my head and down the first one and slide the empty glass to her. “No, thanks. This is all I’m having.”

She laughs. “Well, that’s probably a good idea.”

I grin then down the second shot.

The woman is studying my face like she's trying to figure out who I am. Since I’ve never been here before, I know she doesn’t. But if she thinks I’m someone else, that’s even better for me.

Although I’ve wanted to come in on several occasions, I’ve never been willing to risk being noticed.

I slide some cash across the bar and pound the third drink, finally feeling my body relax a little bit. Warmth spreads from my belly outward and allows me to release the tension I’ve been holding.

With a few more glances around the dance floor, I push off the stool.

Let's do this.

Once I’m lost in the middle of the crowd, I let my hips move to the beat. I feel a little bit stupid dancing alone, but I don't expect to be alone for very long. Besides, no one will recognize me anyway. I could be holding up a wall all night without fear of judgment.

There's a certain liberation that comes from wearing a mask. I feel like I can do anything. It’s one of the few moments in my life when I'm not worried about what people think or who might see me. Now that I’m feeling free, I’ve got to do something about it.

There’s a cute kid in some kind of slutty carpenter costume who appears out of nowhere. Before I can get a good look at him, he starts to sway just inches from my body. He’s pretty with blond hair and almost clear eyes that are locked on mine as he slowly inches forward. Suddenly, his chest is pressed to mine. I tentatively place one hand flat across his hip just to feel him. His skin is slick with sweat, and when I look at his face, those pink lips are getting closer and closer.

When his mouth grazes over my chin, my body is like a tight coil of heat. It’s been a long time since a man has melded with me like this. His full erection is evident against my thigh when his lips touch the side of my mouth.

Okay, this is promising.

Smooth fingers slide under my cape and lift it off my arms as he kisses me hard. As soon as it’s gathered between my shoulder blades, I pull back.

Alright, kid. Now you're getting a little too handsy.

While his tongue leaves a trail down to my nipple and clamps on, I rearrange the cape to cover my arms and sides again. I know it's silly, but I just don't want anyone to potentially recognize me. Of course, the room is dark, and pretty much everyone seems to be paying attention to their own little world. Nobody is watching me. But when this kid’s teeth clamp down on the tip of my nipple, I shudder.

“Do you like that, Phantom?” He purrs into my ear and wraps his arms around my neck.

I nod and tilt my head so he can kiss down my neck. I don’t usually let other people call the shots, but since I don’t want to speak, I won’t even try to direct his actions. He can do whatever he wants until he does something off-limits.

Then I'll be done.

The song ends and another begins. While I stand there slowly swaying, the guy lavishes attention on the parts of my body that are exposed. When he drops to his knees, I have to fight the urge to whip out my dick and shove it down his throat. Without giving me time to react, he clamps down on the outline of my cock through my pants.

A shiver runs up my spine, but the action doesn't do more than plump up my dick a little bit more than it was. It's still too nervous to fully get in the game. When too many eyes are on us, I pull him up by his forearm and whisper into his ear, “Do you want a drink?”

He bites his lower lip and nods seductively. “Of you.”

Alright. I'm already getting tired of this. With a resigned smile, I give him a peck on his forehead. “I'll catch up with you later. I'm gonna take a break.”

The guy pouts out his lower lip but quickly turns around and saunters into the crowd. He’s obviously not too heartbroken.

That’s probably for the better.