“I’M thinking it’s time to break up with Tim,” Marty Valdez said as he drove his older sister back to her apartment.
“Oh, please,” Sophia replied without even looking at him. How could she when she was too busy silently judging his driving?
“I’m serious.” He punctuated the statement by giving his Hyundai Sonata a bit more gas and passing the idiot clearly not matching the flow of traffic.
She gripped the “oh Jesus” handle above the passenger-side door and braced herself for impact. “Ay, Marty. Slow down.”
“I’m only going sixty-five.”
“Well, the speed limit is sixty,” she said, nodding to the sign that rocketed by.
Marty eased up on the accelerator. “Whatever you say, Mama.”
Sophia inhaled sharply, gazing at her brother out of the corners of her eyes. “You take that back.”
“If the chancla fits” was all he replied.
“I do not wear chanclas.” She propped her petite feet on the dashboard, displaying her trendy wedge-heeled sandals.
Marty snorted. “Those are just fancy chanclas.”
“Do you want a fat bottom lip?”
“Why? You gonna take some of that fat out of your ass?”
“Don’t be jealous of my jelly,” she replied with a jut of her chin.
She was right, of course. Sophia not only had a naturally trim frame, but the men she met always admired her curves and her plump butt. Marty couldn’t say the same thing. When it came to looks, he had emerged from the shallow end of his family’s gene pool with zero muscle definition, a baby face, and absolutely no butt to speak of.
His lack of physical appeal combined with his shy nature and goofy personality just didn’t bring many boys to his yard. In fact, they pretty much steered clear of his entire neighborhood.
That had been one of the reasons he’d created Tim to begin with.
“And stop lying to me that you’re finally gonna press the Delete button on Tim,” she said, returning her attention to the road. “You’ve been using him to pull your flat butt out of the fire ever since you broke up with Christian.”
And there was reason number two: Christian Wilder, the jerk ex-boyfriend, who also just so happened to be best friends with his sister’s fiancé and the best man at their upcoming wedding.
“I’m serious this time.”
“Really? Before the wedding?” She turned slightly in the seat, studying him with those light brown eyes that turned every other man into her willing puppet.
“It’s as good a time as any,” he replied with a shrug. “It’s not like Tim is actually going to be there. He’s not real, you know?”
“I do,” she replied with a nod. “Do you?”
“What the hell does that mean?”
She gnawed on her lower lip in silence.
“What? You obviously have something on your mind.”
She pulled her lip from between her teeth and sighed. “It’s just that you’ve done this since you were a kid. Created fake people to get you out of situations you didn’t want to deal with. You’ve been out of high school, what? Seven years? How many of your classmates still think you have a little sister named Stephanie?”
Probably anyone who knew him, but he wasn’t going to admit it. His imaginary little sister had saved him from embarrassing himself at football games, high school parties, or anything else that terrified his routine-loving mind. He’d wanted to go, to experience life the way others did, but he got nauseated every time he thought about breaking his pattern of school followed immediately by home. It didn’t help that he didn’t care about football or that he’d never fit in with his classmates anyway.
His “little sister” saved him from humiliation and awkward situations. She was his get-out-of-jail-free card.
That was precisely what his imaginary boyfriend, Tim Drake, the hot underwear model who lived in California, gave him now.
“So?” she asked, clearly waiting for an answer.
“What does it matter?” He focused his attention back on the road, not wanting to discuss how much of a loser he really was. He knew it. Hell, everyone knew it. He lived in the apartment over his parents’ garage, drove a car they bought for him, and had only dated one man in his entire life.
Marty Valdez wasn’t just a loser. He was their undisputed king.
“It doesn’t.” Her voice grew soft, as it always did when she was worried about him, which was like all the damn time. She was getting as bad as their mother, if that was even fucking possible. “Not in the long run.”
He nodded, believing the conversation to be over and done with.
“But you’re right.” She dug into the aqua handbag his soon-to-be brother-in-law had given her for Christmas last year and pulled out her phone. “It’s as good a time as any.”
Marty briefly switched his gaze from the road to the phone before staring into his sister’s narrowed eyes. She was clearly double-dog daring him. “What? Now?”
“If you’re so serious about it, why not?” She opened the phone with one swipe. “I’ll even call Mama for you so you can tell her yourself.”
When had his sister turned into such an evil hag? “Fine.” He snatched the phone from her grasp and tossed it back into her purse. “I’ll wait until after the wedding.”
She flashed him a victorious half smile. “How did I know you were going to say that?”
“Because you’re a bruja who drinks the blood of her victims.”
“And don’t you forget it.”
The blare of klaxons suddenly filled the car, causing his sister to jump and scan the road, clearly believing their lives were in mortal danger, and they were. The danger just wasn’t from another vehicle.
It was from his cell phone. Their mother was calling.
Marty sent her to voice mail with one push of a button.
Sophia glanced at the phone on the console and then back at him. “That’s the most hideous ringtone I’ve ever heard.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Is that how highly you think of our mother? The woman who gave us life?”
A second later the muffled voice of Stewie from Family Guy repeating the word “Mom” over and over again rattled off from his sister’s phone. Marty arched one eyebrow at her. “What were you saying again?”
She snorted. “Yours is more annoying than mine is,” she replied before answering the call with happy chirp. “Hola, Mami.”
Although he couldn’t hear what his mother was saying, the buzz of an angry wasp filled the other end of his sister’s phone. His mother clearly knew he’d declined her call.
“Yes,” Sophia said, attempting to stifle a laugh. “He’s right here.” She pulled the phone away from her ear and hit the Speaker button.
“So you don’t pick up when your mother calls? Is that how you treat your mother, Martín?”
“Of course not,” he said, sticking his tongue out at his sister, who was waving her finger at him as if he were a naughty child. “I’m just driving Sophia home from her fitting and didn’t want to be distracted. Safety first, right?”
“Mm-hmm,” his mother replied, clearly not believing a word that came out of his mouth.
“Is there something you needed? Like milk from the grocery store? I’d be glad to get it before heading home.”
“It’s too late to try and get back in my good graces,” she said in a huff.
Marty blew all the air out of his lungs. She’d make sure he regretted this for at least a week if he was lucky, and he was never that lucky.
“I was just calling to tell you about who I went out to lunch with, but if you can’t be bothered—”
“Who was it?” Marty asked, even though he had a sneaking suspicion of the answer. One glance at his sister told him she’d guessed the identity of their mother’s lunch date as well. The corners of her eyes drooped, and she grabbed his hand in comfort.
“Christian.”
Marty groaned in reply. “Really, Mama? Why do you insist on talking to him? We’re not together anymore, and we haven’t been for quite some time.”
“You don’t have to tell me that,” his mother replied. “I still don’t understand why you broke up with him. He’s a lawyer! You don’t break up with a lawyer.”
You do when he’s a dirtbag, but Marty wasn’t going to tell his mother that. She’d long since proclaimed Christian as the innocent victim, and in order to break her of that delusion, he’d have to tell her the truth. That was the one thing he just couldn’t do. No matter how much of a jerk Christian was, Marty had never been the kind of person to air his dirty laundry to anyone other than his sister. It wasn’t anyone else’s business.
“He asked about you,” his mother said from the other end of the phone. “He wanted to know how you were doing and if you were still dating that Jim guy.”
His name was Tim, and she knew that. Not that it mattered. Tim didn’t exist, and now was probably the best time to exorcize the phantom boyfriend that never was from his life.
Before he could choke the words out, his mother said, “He told me he’s bringing someone to the wedding. Some college professor.”
Marty’s shoulders slumped. Since they’d broken up, Christian had dated at least half-a-dozen guys. That was the main reason Marty had created Tim—to save face and to not feel like even more of a loser. Although Marty wasn’t jealous of the guys Christian dated, he hated that since he broke things off, he hadn’t been out on one date with another man while Christian had practically dated half of San Antonio. “Why are you telling me this?”
His mother let loose a long, heavy sigh. “To let you know you might be running out of time. I don’t think it’s serious, but it could turn serious.”
He took a deep breath, trying in vain to keep his emotions under control. “Mom, Christian and I are never getting back together. He could bring Brad Pitt to the wedding and I wouldn’t care. Besides, I already have a date, and you know that.”
“Yes, a man I’ve never met or seen one picture of,” she replied.
“I’ve seen a picture,” Sophia added. “He’s gorgeous. A much better catch than Christian.”
Marty gaped at his sister, who only shrugged in reply.
“Really?” his mother asked. It pissed Marty off that one word from his sister about his pretend boyfriend was more persuasive than anything he’d said on the subject over the past year.
“Really,” Sophia replied. “But we’ve got to go now. We’re here, and I have to meet Danny in a couple of hours for a special dinner date.”
Marty did his best to hide his grin. That special dinner date was a surprise prewedding party Danny was throwing in her honor.
“Okay, hija,” their mother said. “Have fun and give Danny my love. Martín, when you get home, I want to see this picture.”
His mother ended the call.
“What have you done?”
“Me?” Sophia asked. “I’m not the one who created Tim. That was you.”
“But now she’s expecting to see photographic evidence,” he said after pulling into the parking lot of her apartment. “What am I supposed to do now?”
She gave him a peck on the cheek and got out of the car.
His sister was right. He was royally screwed.
“WHAT am I doing?” Marty asked as he got out of his car on Main Avenue deep in the heart of downtown San Antonio. He’d parked in one of the parking garages at San Antonio College, across the street from the Strip, which housed a majority of the gay clubs and bars in town.
After he left his sister’s place, he’d driven here on autopilot as if following some homing beacon that would lead him to an answer. Yeah, as if that was going to happen. Places like the Heat and Pegasus didn’t serve solutions. Now, getting an STD? That was a pretty distinct possibility. These bars were notorious pickup spots that brought horny guys together and gave douche bags the reasons they needed to cheat.
When he was last here over a year ago, he’d promised himself he’d never return to the scene of the most devastating and mortifying moment of his life.
So why was he crossing the street and heading straight for Pegasus, which was known across the community for opening every day at 2:00 p.m.?
That was easy enough to answer. He was looking for a miracle.
He reached into the pocket of his shorts and palmed the lucky silver dollar he carried with him everywhere. It had belonged to his father, who believed in such forces as luck and omens. According to Emiliano Valdez, he’d been having a bad-luck streak, but on the day he found his lucky charm, he not only got a new job, but he also met the woman who would one day be his wife.
Maybe today was the day his father’s lucky charm worked for him.
“Come on, coin,” he whispered as he took it out of his pocket and rubbed its smooth, shiny surface. “I’m not looking for a new job or even a husband, so you don’t have to work whatever magic you worked for my father, but if you could see your way to sending me a Tim Drake, I would really appreciate it.”
He waited for a moment in front of the dark tinted glass doors of the bar’s entrance. He expected to feel a rush of hope or at the very least a soothing warmth spread across his body to tell him his wish was about to be granted.
Marty didn’t get that. What he got was the door unexpectedly swinging outward and smacking him in the forehead.
“Fuck,” he muttered. His hands involuntarily flew up to his face as the coin dropped to the ground.
“Yeah, well, don’t stand in front of the damn door,” some random guy said as he brushed past him.
“Jerk,” Marty said under his breath. If he could find the courage, he’d call the guy a rude dickweed, but Marty had never been able to stand up for himself.
“You okay?”
The deep voice surprised him, and he whirled around to find a pair of the bluest eyes he’d ever seen staring down at him. Marty sucked in his breath so quickly it sounded like a hiccup.
This man was hella fine.
He stood at least six feet tall, with honey-blond hair and a hint of dark blond scruff spreading across his cheeks and along his strong jawline. His shoulders were wide, and though it was the middle of the summer, he was dressed in a motorcycle jacket and blue jeans. On most people, the outfit combined with his sculpted features might make him an intimidating figure, but though he exuded strength and confidence, the persona he projected was somehow missing that sharp edge.
Then there was his smile. It was big, genuine, and beautiful. Marty had never seen teeth so white.
“You’ve got a red bump there,” he said, after what was probably the longest awkward silence ever to exist.
Great. He’d been staring at this guy as if the zombie apocalypse had descended and he’d just found the last slab of Grade A beef in the world. The only thing that would make this moment more embarrassing was if he wiped away the drool that had collected along the corners of his mouth. “I do?” Marty asked, feeling the slight swell of his brow. He’d completely forgotten he’d been smacked in the head. Flames licked scorching trails across Marty’s face, and he cut his gaze to the ground in search of his father’s lucky coin. It was the only thing he could do to save himself from further embarrassment.
The guy crouched next to him, scanning the walkway. “You sure you’re gonna be okay?”
“Yeah. Of course,” Marty replied, refusing to tear his eyes away from the pebble-strewn path. “Just in a hurry and obviously wasn’t paying attention. I’m meeting my friend Brian for drinks. We come here once a week. Like clockwork.” There he went again, doing just what his sister accused him of—creating imaginary people to deal with situations he didn’t know how to handle. “It’s a tradition of ours. For like the past four years now. Wait. Has it been longer than that? I can’t remember, but he hates it when I’m late. Probably because he’s an accountant, I guess. You know how they can be. Real sticklers for deadlines and such. He’s the most anal person I know.”
Marty tensed. Did he just say anal? Good God, why couldn’t he just shut the hell up?
“Um, anal as in controlling.” Marty glanced from where he squatted, noting the smile that lit up the hot stranger’s eyes. At least he was polite enough not to let it slide across his lips. “It’s not like he’s a total bottom or something. Well, I guess he could be. I don’t know. We don’t really talk about that kind of stuff. You know what I mean?”
He didn’t need a miracle. He needed to be put out of his misery.
“I think I do,” the guy said with a nod after clearing the laughter from his throat. He glanced to his right and plucked the coin from where it had fallen among the dirt and rocks along the side of the building. “I think this is what you’re looking for.”
He deposited the coin in Marty’s outstretched palm, and for the briefest of moments, their hands touched. The contact stole most of the breath from Marty’s body.
“I think you might be right,” he replied in a rasp.
The guy’s phone chimed, and the light that had previously lit up his features dimmed. He stood up and, without another word, pushed open the door to Pegasus and disappeared inside.