My heart hammered in my chest. It was a fucking miracle that I hadn’t fallen to my knees in a combination of shock and panic when Penny rushed outside with a cupcake for a new friend only to find me kissing the hell out of him. I’d stoically observed her conversation with Johnny from afar, anticipating the repercussions and consequences. They ranged from minor to catastrophic and yeah…I might have been guilty of overreacting, but it was perfectly understandable. I’d never kissed a man in front of Parker or Penny. Ever. I’d never purposely been in the same room with an actual boyfriend and my kids.
They’d met Tegan by chance a couple of years ago, and that hadn’t gone over well. The kids hadn’t seemed to care actually, but I’d gone out of my way to downplay our relationship, which in retrospect was pretty crappy of me. Maybe I should have taken a stance. I simply didn’t know how to be a dad and a significant other at the same time. So I made a choice, and I kept the peace.
And now…well, I wasn’t sure how to explain Johnny. He was a friend of a friend. He was a neighbor who’d agreed to teach a guitar lesson. He was a component in the massive real estate deal my firm was trying to close. But he wasn’t my boyfriend.
That didn’t mean I didn’t want him. I did. It was…complicated. And it certainly wouldn’t make any sense to Penny. Or Parker.
I swiped my hand over my beard and sent up a quick prayer to whoever might be listening to give me the power to handle this without scarring my kids.
Penny skipped to my side, crouching to rescue the wooden spoon from Lullah. “Daddy, dogs can’t have chocolate. She’s going to get sick.”
Lullah looked up at us with adoring puppy eyes before sprinting across the lawn to sniff flowers and chase butterflies.
“She’ll be fine. I must have dropped it,” I added lamely, plucking the spoon from her fingers. I whistled for Lullah, then inclined my head toward the house. “Let’s go clean up.”
I cleaned cupcake pans, wiped down the counters, and supervised washing dishes while Penny chattered about practicing her high kicks. She was obsessed with all things Wonder Woman and decided that a combination of karate and gymnastics would be her best bet at replicating her heroine’s kickass vibe. I nodded along like everything was cool. No worries here, boys and girls.
“…and watch the new one tonight. Do you want to? I want to.”
“Watch what?”
“Wonder Woman, silly.”
“Again?” Parker asked, hopping onto the barstool.
“Yes.” Penny closed the dishwasher and rested her elbow on the counter in a faux-casual pose. “You could ask Johnny to come over too.”
Okay. Here we go.
“That’s nice of you, but I think he has plans,” I replied.
“Is Johnny your boyfriend? He said he’s not, but—”
“Geez, Penny!” Parker huffed. “That’s weird.”
“No, it’s not. They were kissing. I saw them and…”
I tuned her out, giving Parker my full attention. He was a closed book. His mouth was drawn in a tight line, and dark-blond hair fell over his eyes. That didn’t necessarily mean he was upset. Parker tended to keep his emotions under lock and key. Like father, like son.
I dried my hands on a dish towel and waited for her to run out of steam.
“Hey, listen. Johnny’s my friend. That’s all. Any questions?”
“But you kissed him,” Penny insisted, furrowing her brow in bewilderment. “Does that mean you want him to be your boyfriend and he said no?”
Parker pulled out his cell. His features were hidden by his hair again, but his hands were shaking. Fuck.
“No, Pen. It’s not like that. We’re just…friends.” My tone was kind but firm.
She stared at me for a moment, then shrugged. “Okay. Can we still watch Wonder Woman?”
“Sure.”
I chuckled when she whooped with joy and immediately changed the subject. Bullet dodged.
But not quite.
I listened with half an ear to Penny’s lighthearted rambling, keeping my eyes on Parker. He didn’t seem upset or angry or sad. He was just his quiet self. And I had to admit, the silence was really beginning to get to me.
Tuesdays were traditionally slow at Vibes. It was our only non-themed night of the week, and Garrett wanted to change that ASAP.
“We could try something new and mix it up every week,” he suggested as he poured top-shelf whiskey into two low glasses. He set the drinks in front of two burly-looking men commandeering the opposite corner of the bar with a friendly word before joining me again.
“Like what?” I asked, sipping water as I scrolled through spreadsheets on my iPad.
“Cowboy night, flannel night, rock star night…the possibilities are endless.” Garrett eyed the gathering crowd on the dance floor beyond the bar.
He had uncanny vision. Literally and figuratively. And this was exactly why I’d hired him to manage Vibes. I knew this wasn’t his dream job, but I paid him well enough that he didn’t have to worry about the modeling gigs or acting opportunities that didn’t pan out. Maybe they would someday. Garrett was a handsome six-two African American with short-cropped dark hair, brilliant green eyes, high cheekbones, and a lean, toned physique. He’d always been a great bartender…friendly, efficient, and no-nonsense. I’d had a feeling he’d be an even better manager and I’d been correct. I only wished I’d hired him sooner.
“Those are good ideas. Go for it.”
“Really? Just like that.” Garrett squinted and snapped his fingers.
“Yep. I trust you.”
“Thank you,” he preened. “We might want to get a few more Instagrammers in the door too. We’re busy tonight, and I think Jordan Jackson and his posse are to thank for it.”
I followed the tilt of his head and smiled at the crowd of twinks in glittery getups posing nearby. The lanky man in the center was startlingly pretty. Penny would have loved to ask him a million questions about his makeup application, I mused.
“Did you give them free drinks?”
“Not yet, but I will,” Garrett replied. “Oh, and Clay Kanzler’s here. He’s good for business too.”
“What? Where?” I furrowed my brow, casting my gaze over the club.
“I don’t see him now, but he was here earlier. He stopped by to say hello.”
“Are you friends?”
“Well, friends might be too strong, but we’re friendly. His new book is out and day-um, it’s hot. It’s good to see guys like him do well. It gives me hope,” he sighed, then hooked his thumb behind him. “I need to help out till Lyle gets here.”
I frowned, barely suppressing the urge to ask twenty questions, beginning with “What do you mean by ‘guys like Clay’?” But this wasn’t the time to gossip about patrons. I ran a tight ship, and I expected the same of my manager.
I nodded, pulling my cell from my pocket when it vibrated. “You’re in charge. I’ll be in my office for an hour or so.”
“Aye, boss.”
I slipped through the press of scantily-clad hotties crowding the perimeter between the bar and the dance floor. We were doing better for a Tuesday night than I’d first thought. The floor was packed, and the air practically vibrated with a sexy disco beat that beckoned a hint of decadence. The voyeur in me wanted to watch, but I couldn’t miss this call.
“Hey, Darren. Hang on. I’m on my way to my office,” I shouted, weaving through the congested area near the bathrooms.
A few guys glanced up with hesitant smiles but gave me a wide berth as I passed. I’d been told I had that effect on people. I was tall, muscular, and some said a bit intense…like a private detective or an assassin. And I wasn’t the kind of guy who faked smiles or excelled at small talk.
I’d initially bought the club as an investment property and figured I’d hire a talented staff who could deal with schmoozing customers while I handled numbers. The plan was to sell it after I’d renovated and rebuilt the clientele. Then I met Darren and Harry and realized I had more to gain by holding this asset and building my portfolio. Joining forces with them had been one of the best financial moves of my career. And with any luck, we were about to close a deal that would positively impact a lot of people. The idea that it might irk a few others was a serious bonus.
I inclined my head at a familiar-looking regular and turned down a dark, narrow hallway. The music was still thumping, but I could hear myself think now. I unlocked my office door, glancing around the black-and-white, windowless room. I didn’t spend much time here, so the decor was pretty minimal…a desk, two chairs, and a credenza that doubled as a bookshelf. The white-painted brick walls helped mute the club noise and made it possible to hold a conversation.
“Sorry about that. How’d it go?” I asked.
“Very, very well,” Darren purred before yelling, “Harry? Harry, are you on the line? Can you hear?”
“For fuck’s sake, I’m not deaf. Yes, I’m present and listening. Lower your voice.”
I flopped into the black leather chair behind my desk and rolled my eyes. Here we go…another episode of The Harry and Darren Show.
“What did McMillan say?” I prodded patiently.
“Well, Myron was stingy with specifics, but he indicated that Charlie was open to the idea of promoting Sonoma…that’s the name of their beverage, by the way. He asked for a second meeting with the band and instructed Myron to bring samples for them to try.”
“Hmm. When?”
“Next week,” Harry said.
I stared at a divot in the brick wall intently. “And when do you think we should submit our offer on the property?”
“Friday. We’ll try to get Myron to sign for McMillan before then, but we can’t wait any longer. And truthfully, it’s looking very good,” Darren enthused.
“That’s great news.”
“Agreed. Thank you for coordinating the meeting. We’re thrilled it went so well. Did you happen to mention the potential photography issue to the guitar boy?” Darren asked.
“Uh, no.”
“You might want to before the band meets with Myron. We don’t want any surprises,” he replied in a British accent.
“You’re right. I’ll, um…I’ll talk to him.”
“Excellent. Good night, Sean,” they said in unison.
I stared unseeing at my screen. The insistent buzz of a dance song reverberated beyond the door. I had a sudden desire to be somewhere quiet, but I wasn’t ready to go home. I wasn’t sure I was ready to deal with Johnny again either.
We’d cleared the air in a texting frenzy over the weekend, and I didn’t want to disturb the peace. I’d hoped a little distance would get us back in a “friend zone,” but it wasn’t working. I couldn’t stop thinking about him and wondering when the full ramifications of getting caught kissing him were going to hit. It was ridiculous that a grown man could so effortlessly mind-fuck himself, I mused, scrolling through the text thread Johnny had started Saturday afternoon.
I’m sorry.
Don’t be. It’s fine, I replied.
Fine? Fine? It was better than fine. It was fucking hot.
I sent a smile emoji. Yes, it was.
Sorry we got caught. Do they hate me?
Not at all. Penny thinks you’re my boyfriend. Parker didn’t say anything, but he’s talking to me, so I think we’re good.
Cool. I’m glad. Have fun with them. And tell Lullah hi for me.
That was it until Monday, when he’d texted to tell me that Parker had reached out to him about another guitar lesson.
That’s great, but he’s at his mom’s next weekend, I typed.
Does she live close? I can go there. Or he could come by the studio after school for an hour.
I’d frowned at my phone for a few minutes, then pressed Call. And the little fucker wouldn’t pick up. Are you ignoring me on purpose?
Yep. I don’t talk on the phone. It’s a rule.
I can’t make plans via text. It’ll take too long, I griped, adding a few annoyed-face emojis for good measure before dialing his number again. Answer your phone.
No. Quit calling me.
We went back and forth for a while, exchanging random gifs and emojis until neither of us was sure what we were discussing. At least I wasn’t. Eventually the thread petered out. I took that as a sign he’d moved on with his evening and I should do the same.
But the last text was from me. We’ll have to meet in person.
No response.
Here I was, twenty-four hours later, unsure whether I’d successfully pushed aside a potential personal entanglement. The kiss was still on my mind and the fact that Parker had contacted Johnny on his own in spite of it felt like a breakthrough of some sort. I didn’t trust myself to discuss the other facet of my business deal tactfully over text.
Fuck, this might get personal again.
Are you free tomorrow night? I typed, leaning back in my chair.
I started to flip my phone over so I wouldn’t stare at it like an obsessed teenager when it buzzed.
Yes, but I’m waiting for a delivery. I got the latest window. Want to come over?
Sure. I’ll bring pizza.
Nice!
What do you like on yours?
I’m easy. Pepperoni, sausage, mushroom, onions, jalapeños…you choose.
I gave a thumbs-up sign and stood abruptly, willing my pulse to slow. For Christ’s sake, it was pizza. Nothing to get excited about.
The following evening, I showed up on his doorstep with a ridiculously large pizza. The bag with salad, utensils, and napkins slid precariously on the box when I leaned forward to knock. I rang the bell too, thinking he might not hear over the screech of his electric guitar. The music got louder, then stopped altogether just before the door swung open.
“Yo, it’s the delivery man.” Johnny swung the door open, pushing his instrument behind his back.
“Very funny. Invite me in. This is heavier than it looks,” I huffed, breathing him in as I stepped inside. Fuck, he smelled amazing…like shampoo and peppermint with a hint of nicotine.
My dick twitched in response. Not happening, I reminded myself, setting the box on the island.
Johnny padded barefoot into the kitchen and lifted the lid. “Nice work. You even included jalapeños.”
“And salad.” I pointed to the brown paper bag.
“Thankfully not on the pizza. I have a buddy who loves arugula on his pizza. That ain’t right. Want a beer?”
“Sure. Thank you.”
Johnny smiled, brushing my arm on his way to the fridge. “Grab the plates and forks. They’re in the cupboard to the right of the sink. Do you want a bowl to mix the salad?”
I pulled the salad from the bag along with a few flimsy paper products. “We don’t have to dirty any plates. They gave us a few supplies.”
“No way! We have to try out my dishes. I have the real deal, and I’ve never used any of it. Humor me.” He uncapped two beers, handed one to me, and tapped his to it. “Cheers.”
I took a swig but kept my gaze on his ass when he turned to open a nearby drawer. He wore basic black sweats and a snug tee again. The cotton clung to his toned arms and lean torso—and since when were sweatpants sexy attire? Jesus, this was getting out of hand.
I licked my lips and put my beer aside, skirting the island in search of dishes while Johnny chatted amicably about appliances. Maybe. I only followed every other word. I was too busy checking out his tattooed forearms, the graceful bend of his wrist, and his calloused fingertips. He served himself and motioned for me to do the same before flopping onto one of the barstools.
“The delivery guy was funny. He hooked up my new washing machine, tossed a clipboard at me to sign…bored with his life, bored with his job, bored with me. Until he walked down the hall and stopped in front of my in-home studio—you know, the room where I blew you last week,” he confirmed around a bite of pizza.
I raised a brow as I sat beside him. “I remember.”
Johnny grinned. “Suddenly, I had a new best friend. It was cool talking guitars for ten minutes, but then he wanted to know if I was in a band and the second I told him I played for Zero, shit got weird.”
“How so?”
“He asked for my autograph and made a comment about tattooing it on his hip.” He widened his eyes comically, adding, “Low on his hip. I swear he was on the verge of unbuckling his belt to show me where, too.”
I frowned. “Your deliveryman made a pass at you? You need to report him.”
“No, it wasn’t like that. He was just really fucking excited to meet me once he realized who I was. Like I was a big deal,” he scoffed.
“You are a big deal. I don’t know a lot about music, but I’ve heard your songs on the radio, and I’ve overheard younger people talk about Zero.”
“Not old guys like you, eh?”
I knit my brow, swallowing a bite of pizza. “Hmph. I meant the club set. On average, they’re somewhere between twenty-one and thirty-five, and they definitely know Zero. Even though I fired his ass, Justin is a legend at Vibes because he used to bartend for me.”
Johnny snickered. “Why’d you fire him, again?”
“He showed up late all the damn time. Justin didn’t want to be a bartender, he wanted to be a rock star.”
“And now he is.”
“So are you.”
“According to my delivery guy, that might be true,” he said with a laugh. “You know, Justin still kind of hates you.”
I snorted. “Not my problem. Vibes is a business.”
“And you’re a businessman. Makes sense.” Johnny gave me a side-eyed look I couldn’t quite read. He picked a pepperoni off another slice of pizza and popped it into his mouth.
“Hmm. Why are you looking at me like that?”
He shifted to face me. “I’m trying to figure you out. You want something from me.”
“Guitar lessons,” I said, wiping my fingers on my napkin.
“Right,” he replied suspiciously.
“You wouldn’t have a conversation on the phone like a normal person, so—”
“Normal people don’t talk on the phone, Sean. They text.”
“I’m sure you make exceptions in case of an emergency.”
Johnny quirked an amused half smile. “Is this an emergency?”
“Well…not exactly,” I admitted.
“Hmm. I didn’t think so. I also don’t really think guitar lessons are your priority. But I’m willing to play along. When did Parker ask for my number?”
“He didn’t. He must have taken it off my cell.”
Johnny inclined his head. “Cool. That means he’s really interested. Good sign. It also means he probably didn’t care that I kissed you…assuming Penny told on us.”
“She did.” I picked up my fork and stabbed a piece of lettuce. “He didn’t say a word. But Penny will probably tell her mom too and any moment now, the hammer of doom will fall.”
Johnny threw his head back and laughed. “Dramatic much?”
“I am when it comes to my family. Fiona is fine, but our relationship is strained. Gays are cool and I’m cool, but it’s a little less cool that I’m gay…if you know what I mean. If she thinks you’re my boyfriend, she may come up with a laundry list of reasons it wouldn’t be a good idea for you to teach Parker. I don’t know that for a fact because we don’t talk about my gayness, but that’s the gist.”
“Wait. Are you gay or bi?”
“Bi,” I replied automatically. “Does it matter?”
He shook his head. “Not to me. But I don’t categorize anyone based on who they want to fuck. Not my business.”
“Very eloquently put,” I snarked, chuckling when he chomped a big bite of pizza. “I agree with you, but it’s not that simple when you’re co-parenting.”
“I understand,” he said around a mouthful. “In theory anyway. I don’t know anything about kids.”
“Don’t undersell yourself. You knew that it was important to get Parker to loosen up before you tried to teach him something new.”
“Anyone could figure that out.”
“No, that’s not true,” I assured him. “Thank you for your patience.”
Johnny shrugged. “No problem. I didn’t mean to get overzealous about future lessons. I think I was freaking out a little about the kiss and…whatever. Offer stands. If a neutral zone works best, he can come by the studio whenever.”
I smiled. “Thanks. That’s nice of you. I’ll ask him.”
“Cool.” He brushed his hands and nudged his plate away. “So are you gonna tell me why you’re really here?”
I studied his red-stained lips and the smudge of eyeliner under his left eye. I set my fork down and hooked my finger, beckoning him close.
“Hold still,” I instructed, rubbing my thumb gently under his lashes. “You missed a spot.”
He froze with his gaze fixed on mine. “Did you get it?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
I lowered my hand slightly and cupped his face, loving the feel of his freshly shaved jaw. I had a passing thought that he’d showered and shaved for me. And I liked it. I rested my thumb on his lips and inched forward till I was close enough to feel his breath. I brushed my nose against his…once, twice—like I was giving him a chance to push me away. That wasn’t the case.
The truth was…I wanted him too much. My skin tingled with a yearning I hadn’t felt for anyone in a long time. Maybe ever. It wasn’t a matter of desire or conquest. I was no stranger to going after what I wanted. But this was need. Hungry, raw, and insistent. I had no defense.
That was what I told myself when I wrapped my hand around his nape and crashed my mouth over his.
Johnny groaned into the connection. He licked me greedily, pushing his tongue inside as he stood and planted himself firmly between my open thighs. I ran my hands along his sides, resting them on his hips for a moment before squeezing his ass. When he hummed in approval, I shot to my feet and pulled him against me, making sure he felt my erection through my suit pants.
“Oh, fuck.” He nipped my bottom lip as he humped and grinded in a manic quest for friction.
And I was right there with him. I tilted my hips seductively, riding the steel rod in his sweats. Then I slipped my fingers under the elastic and splayed my hands on his bare ass, kneading his flesh as I trailed a single digit along his crack.
I broke the kiss with a gasp, purring in his ear. “No boxers?”
He bit my chin and recaptured my mouth with a hungry growl, lowering his hands to my belt. “Mmm, no. I kinda hoped we’d end up here.”
I caught his wrist and stepped backward. “Wait.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked, blinking as if coming out of a trance.
I shoved my hand through my hair and sucked in a gulp of air. “I didn’t come here for this.”
Johnny squinted. “Okay. So…you really wanted to talk about guitar lessons?”
“No.” I winced with a sigh before continuing, “I’m…I need to be honest. One hundred percent honest.”
“Go on,” he prodded, inclining his head.
“It’s business.”
He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “I’m listening.”
“I have an interest in the meeting I arranged with Charlie.”
“The bubbly water?”
“Yes. Charlie met with a rep from McMillan, a giant food-and-beverage conglomerate with exceedingly deep pockets. I arranged the meeting because I want McMillan to invest in a real estate deal.”
“Okay. I can’t tell if I’m bored or confused. What does either of those things have to do with us getting naked?” he asked point-blank.
“Good question.” I furrowed my brow and tried to come up with an answer. My dick was pretty sure neither consideration was important. It pulsed against my zipper, begging me to shut the fuck up. “McMillan is big on LGBTQ rights. They want diversity and equality representation. But they’ve also got a conservative contingent on their board who want to control how an old, stodgy company moves into a more progressive direction.”
“And?”
“Your collaboration with Clay Kanzler could in a roundabout way damage my deal. Not the professional part,” I conceded, pacing to the bank of windows. “Just the personal aspect.”
“I’m not following.”
I admired his reflection in the glass. The inky sky provided a jolting contrast to the empty great room with its white walls and sparkling surfaces. Everything here was black and white. No grays. No in-betweens. Nowhere to hide.
Johnny stood in the midst of this blank canvas looking like the rock star he was. Lithe and confident, and…free. He had no baggage. No responsibility to anyone outside of his band. I had to admit, I felt a twinge of jealousy. I could hardly remember what it was like to be entitled to embrace my convictions without weighing heavy consequence. It was a luxury I couldn’t afford.
Johnny could. And it was ridiculous to ask him not to go on a date with anyone…even Clay. However, that was why I was here.
I cleared my throat as I turned to face him. “I’m asking you to cancel your date with Clay.”
The second the words left my mouth, I heard how foolish and audacious I sounded. Judging by the startled look on his face, Johnny did too.
He stared at me for a moment, then cocked his head. “Let me get this straight. You came by with pizza using the concerned dad ploy to save a business deal?”
“It’s not a matter of saving a deal. I just want to be sure nothing is compromised.”
He furrowed his brow and let out a humorless huff. “This was what you were up to all along, huh? You used your kid to soften me up and lure me to complacency…for a buck.”
“No, that’s not true. I didn’t use anyone. I’m stating a concern and making a request.”
“I see. I’m surprised you didn’t wait till we fucked to make demands,” he continued calmly. “I’m assuming that’s where this was going. What happened? Did your conscience come out of hibernation? Kind of inconvenient timing, really. If you hadn’t just opened your mouth, I would have thought you were a really cool guy who wanted to do the right thing for his kids when the truth was that you wanted to do the right thing for your bank account.”
“For fuck’s sake, Johnny, that’s not—”
“Don’t tell me I’m wrong. You just admitted it.” He moved toward the island and smacked his hand on the pizza box. “You brought me fucking pizza!”
Now I was confused. “What does that have to with—”
“You managed me, you fucking asshole,” he growled. “You think you’ve got me figured out. Bring the punk some ’za and tell him some sad single-dad stories to butter him up before oh, so sensitively requesting him to play nice for your deal. Fuck you.”
“Johnny, that deal has nothing to do with my kids.”
“Of course not. It’s all about money. It always fucking is. A big swingin’ dick like you must pay a boatload in alimony. Not to mention the fancy house and the sweet wheels. Money matters to you, Sean. Christ, look at the suit you’re wearing.” He grunted in disgust, adding, “I have no idea what the hell Clay has to do with this, but I’m suddenly looking forward to going out with him this weekend.”
I gnawed on the inside of my cheek, wondering how to get my foot out of my mouth. Nothing came to mind. He was pissed and I was…flummoxed. The more I said, the further I’d bury myself. Time to retreat.
“Okay,” I sighed.
“Okay? Okay, what? You conned me.” Johnny marched around the island and pointed his finger at my chest. “That’s not okay in my book. I fucking hate duplicity.”
“So do I.” I captured his finger, unsurprised when he yanked it away. “Listen to me, Johnny. I’m being honest—totally and completely honest. I tried to tell you I had a lot of balls in the air the last time I was here. Work is complicated, my kids are complicated…at least, one of them is—and I’m scrambling to placate customers, investors, and my ex-wife while wondering what I can do to make every other weekend count so that my kids actually want to be with me.”
“You’re their dad. Why wouldn’t they want to be with you?”
“That’s cute.” I spread my arms wide as if offering myself as exhibit A. “Because I’m me…that’s why. I’m gruff, set in my ways, too controlling, too lame. Take your pick. Dividing time between two households isn’t easy on them. And I’m not gonna lie…it sucks for me. I feel like I’m auditioning every weekend to keep my place. One uncool dad move might set off a firestorm. I can’t be too gay. I can’t be too vocal. I have to be an island and a safe space. No storms, no drama, no surprises. I have to shut up and play a game I don’t always understand so I don’t lose and—” I paused for a moment, my voice trembling with emotion. “I will not lose my kids.”
Johnny looked startled by my outburst. I couldn’t blame him. I’d shared more with him than I did with my therapist. And it didn’t feel particularly cleansing. My chest heaved and my hands shook. I was unraveling faster than a spool of yarn being chased by a cat down a steep set of stairs. If I were smart, I’d apologize and get the fuck out.
Instead, I froze…and waited.
That wasn’t like me. I rarely cared if anyone thought I was using them to achieve a goal. People were going to think what they wanted anyway. However, it seemed important to assure him of my sincerity. Sure, the pizza was a ruse, but let’s be real…I didn’t need food to deliver my message. It was just a convenient excuse to spend time with him. I wasn’t even so sure it was about the possibility of a naked round two either. It was just him.
Johnny pushed his hand through his thick locks and sighed. “That’s a lot of dysfunction. Want a cigarette and something stronger to drink?”
I gave an unsteady half laugh. “Um, okay. I don’t smoke, but I could use a drink.”
“Scotch?”
“Sure.”
“There’s a heater on the back porch. Turn it on for me. I’ll be right there,” he instructed, moving into the kitchen.
I hesitated for a beat, then obeyed.
Johnny joined me a few minutes later with two tumblers and a bottle of Johnnie Walker. He set them on the bistro table next to a potted palm tree and motioned for me to sit. He lit a cigarette and took a drag as he flopped onto the other chair.
“Are you cold?” I asked, pouring two healthy glasses and sliding one across the table.
“A little, but—”
“Here. Take my coat. I’m sweating under this heat lamp.” I draped my blue plaid Cavalli jacket over his shoulders before he could protest and sat back, lifting my glass in a toast. “Cheers.”
“Cheers. Thanks.” Johnny sipped his drink, then puffed his cigarette thoughtfully, blowing a plume of smoke from the side of his mouth. He placed it in the ashtray and made a circular motion with his wrist. “Help yourself. Or light your own. You need to relax. I’d offer weed if I had some, but…nicotine does the job.”
“Smoking is bad for you,” I said primly, reaching for the cigarette. I took a quick drag, inhaling deeply until my lungs burned. I exhaled slowly and handed it over to him.
“I know. I need to quit, but it’s a stress reliever for me. Tegan tells me I should exercise more, but there’s sweating involved and…blah. It’s not the fun kind of sweat.”
I chuckled when he waggled his brows mischievously. “I can run you through some easy sets if you’re interested. Working out definitely helps me.”
He snorted, snuffing out his cigarette in the ashtray. “Physically yes, but in your head…you’re kind of a mess. No offense.”
“None taken.”
I sipped my Scotch, then leaned back in the modern-mesh bistro chair and surveyed the yard. The interior lights illuminated the area just outside the great room. The space was rectangular-shaped with gravel pathways lined with succulents and a copse of palm trees on either end of the property. Like the rest of the house, the exterior felt like a blank canvas. Johnny could do anything here and make it his own. Add a hot tub, build a fire pit…I almost asked him if he’d drawn plans with Wyatt for any outdoor projects, but his concerned gaze stopped me.
“Talk to me, Sean,” he prodded gently.
“About what?”
Johnny idly traced the buttons on my jacket over his shoulders as he studied me. “Your quest for perfection. How’s that going?”
“Perfection? I don’t think so,” I scoffed.
“I didn’t suggest you achieved it, but you seem to have a God complex.”
I shot him a dirty look. “I have a lot of responsibility, and there seems to be more ways to fuck up than succeed most days.”
“Hey, I’m not a parent and the one I had wasn’t very good at it, but from a purely observational viewpoint, you’re a little hard on yourself.” He narrowed his eyes and continued, “I mean, is it really possible to go through life with no storms, no drama, and no surprises? Better question…how is that fun?”
“It might not be possible or fun, but it’s up to me to try to set a good example and give my children my best,” I replied matter-of-factly.
“That’s admirable, but wouldn’t it be better to let them know the real you rather than some manufactured super dad?”
I bristled indignantly, slugged back the last of my drink, and poured a little more. “I’ve been nothing but honest with my kids, Johnny. Brutally honest. I came out five years ago when I was forty and told my truth. I like men. I like women too, but denying that other part of me was suffocating. My mom had just passed away, my dad died two years earlier, my marriage was over, and it seemed like a good time to start over…from zero.”
He smiled at the band reference. “Did you feel like you had to wait till your parents were gone and your marriage ended to come out? Were they separate or tied together? I mean, to me…being gay is just who I am.”
“Yeah, I definitely felt like I had to wait. I was raised in a religious household. Being queer wasn’t an option, which was strange because my parents weren’t overly judgmental. They weren’t unkind. They didn’t preach fire and brimstone. But that understanding was reserved for those less fortunate. It wasn’t a hall pass to do or be whatever you wanted. My sister and I both followed the rules. I did everything according to plan. I went to college, got a good job, married a nice girl, bought a house, had a kid. I lived like I was checking off boxes. Some things made me happy, others didn’t. I figured that was just life.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think it was just one thing. It was a gradual pileup of…”
“Shit you don’t talk about?” he offered, relighting his cigarette.
“Yeah, I suppose that’s it. Tale as old as time. You achieve, you collect, and then what? You look across the table at this person you’ve been sharing a life with and realize you don’t really fucking know each other.”
“God, I’m glad I’m gay. That’s depressing.” Johnny took a drag and sighed.
“It happens to gay people too,” I commented. “We tried. We went to couples therapy and faked it for everyone else’s sake, but we didn’t have anything other than our kids in common.”
“Did you come out before or after the divorce?”
“After. I’m not naïve. I knew my sexuality might be a hurdle for some people, but there are plenty of queer parents and unscathed kids of queers in the world. And I figured as long as I put them first, we’d eventually be okay.”
“Hmm, so when did you start the Superman act?”
I shot an irritated glance his way, then sipped my Scotch. “Don’t be a dick. I’m not a hero. And I’m not trying to be one.”
“Hmm. If you say so,” he singsonged. He let the quiet seep in for a moment before he spoke again. “For what it’s worth, which probably isn’t much since I don’t know your kids well…I think you’re doing a good job.”
“Thanks.”
“But…”
“But what?”
“You need to lighten up.”
I fixed him with a harsh stare that only made him laugh. “Thanks for the advice.”
“It’s not really advice. It’s more of an observation. I’m no shrink, but I’ve been to quite a few, and I guarantee you a good one would tell you that you’re overcompensating. You feel guilty and you’re trying to patch holes by being an exemplary citizen, business dude, and dad. You’re not just a control freak, you’re a martyr.” Johnny passed his cigarette to me and smiled.
“Fuck you,” I said without heat. I stared at the burning tip for a moment before taking a hit and setting it in the ashtray.
“Since you just admitted you want the best for your kids, I’m guessing that pertains to everything that might touch them…including your reputation. No one talks about Sean Gruen, the gay nightclub owner. Tegan told me that. He said everyone goes on and on about your philanthropy and business acumen. I’ve learned a few things from Charlie over the past couple of years. I see it. You control the message. You created this new queer you, and it’s working well. As long as everyone cooperates and no one gets too close. A clingy lover is a complication I’m sure you’d never chance. Am I right?”
“Yes, but I don’t see how that makes me a martyr.”
“You don’t live your life. You organize it. And coming over tonight with a fucking pizza is a perfect example. Butter me up with carbs, express interest or worry about your kid to soften me up a little more, then kindly request me to not fuck with your deal…just before I was about to suggest we get naked. You still get to play the good-guy card while I come across as a selfish prick with a dirty mind.” He frowned through the veil of smoke, stubbing out the cigarette with more force than necessary. “You don’t get to organize me. No one does. And I can’t believe I haven’t kicked your ass out yet.”
My lips twitched in amusement at his over-the-top tone. The touch of campiness was incongruous with his emo goth vibe. “Are you going to?”
“Hell, yes. Eventually. But first, I just want to reiterate that I’m going to do my job for my band. My manager asked me to meet with Clay, and I agreed. It’s a done deal. And I don’t see how a dinner in any way jeopardizes your deal. It’s not like I’m going to fuck the guy,” he grumbled. “Why does it matter?”
“Because reputation matters.”
“Whose? Mine, his, yours? Look, I get it. Sort of. But is there a chance you’re protecting facets of yourself too?”
I furrowed my brow. “Like what?”
“Sex. Who you fuck,” he replied glibly.
“Why do you keep bringing up sex? This isn’t about sex, Johnny. It’s business.”
“Sex and money go hand in hand. You know that, and so does your investor friend. That’s why they want Zero on their stupid water bottle. The band is sexy. Our music is sexy. It’s hypocritical to partner with us on one venture and ask us not to associate with someone who wants the same thing from us. Sex. Why? Because it sells!”
I leveled him with a fierce scowl. “I thought you weren’t into business.”
“I’m not. But I’m not an idiot. I know what the score is, and I see what you’re doing. You can’t control me, and you can’t manage me.”
“Johnny, I’m not trying to manage you. I’m trying to manage a business deal. That’s all.”
“I’m not your business. I’m just a guy in a band. It’s hilarious that I’m a focus of any campaign. Me?” He pointed at his chest, widening his eyes in disbelief. “I’m a nobody. I’m your complete opposite. I’m a punk-ass schmuck from the wrong side of the tracks.”
“You’re a star.”
He snorted. “No, I’m not.”
“You will be someday. Wasn’t that the goal?”
“Not mine. I just didn’t want to be like my mom. That’s it. My bar was so low, I would have had to try hard to blow it. I came from nothing, and I don’t expect anything. I have imposter’s syndrome like no one you know. If someone walked in the door right now and said this was their house, I might believe them.”
“But this is your home, and this is your life. Just like me, I’m sure you do what you must to preserve it.”
“Probably not.” He snickered at my exasperated huff. “Everything could disappear tomorrow…the house, the money, the fans—and I’d be bummed, but I’d be okay. No one depends on me to do anything but play music.”
“You’re living the dream,” I said, draining the last of my Scotch. I held it on my tongue, letting it burn my mouth for a moment before swallowing. “My dreams have nothing to do with what I want. That’s the real difference between me and you. And as someone who’s lost and rebuilt a life, I assure you, it’s not easy. Hell, I don’t know if I could do it again.”
Johnny smiled as he pulled my jacket around himself and leaned forward. “Of course you could. You’re a hero.”
I bumped his knee under the table. “And you’re an asshole.”
He raised his glass in a mock toast. “Touché.”
We shared a laugh and held eye contact. His wild hair and tattooed arms were an interesting contrast to the traditional cut of my expensive coat. Like he said, he was my exact opposite. He was young, brave, idealistic, and unburdened. He didn’t live in fear. That had to feel amazing.
I’d been young, brave, and idealistic, but I’d never been free of fear. Ever. I was suddenly very curious about him. The guy who wore black and lived in a monochrome house had to have a story.
“What color sofa did you order?” I asked out of the fucking blue.
“Random much?” Johnny chuckled. “Black.”
“I thought so. Why do you wear black?”
“It’s easy.”
“And?”
“I’m color-blind.”
“Right. I think Tegan mentioned it once. I’d forgotten. Is there another reason?” I prodded.
Johnny cocked his head. “To match my hair…and my sofa when it gets here.”
“What color is your hair naturally?”
“Brown. Plain ol’ brown.”
I narrowed my eyes. “No, I don’t think so. What is it? Tell me.”
“Brown, but there’s some red in it. Chestnut, I guess. I don’t know. I can’t see it now anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”
He was lying, but I let it go. “What did you want to be when you were a kid?”
“An assassin,” he deadpanned, cracking up at my immediate scowl. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I wanted to be a police officer and a firefighter. I wanted to be in charge. Can you believe that?”
“Actually, yes. Why?”
“When I was a kid, my role models were on television or even video games. I liked the idea of strong, take-charge people. I think it was because I didn’t know those people in real life. I knew users, losers, and sycophants. I was literally surrounded by people I didn’t want to be like. At all. I saw them make crappy, selfish choices time after time. I saw their willful ignorance and ugly posturing, and I promised myself I would never repeat those mistakes.”
“So you wanted to be in control?”
“Are you reverse psychoanalyzing me?” he asked suspiciously.
“I suppose I am. You know there’s an argument that perhaps we’re not so different underneath the armor. You use lipstick, guyliner, and the color black as a shield. And your guitar is your weapon.”
“And you?”
“I use education, ego, intelligence. Sometimes I use my belongings or my influence. If I have to, I use myself. I’m completely without conscience when it comes to protecting those I love. I would lie, cheat, steal. I’d beg or borrow without asking for terms or conditions. I’m unscrupulous, but I try to be fair. I live in chaos behind a well-built façade. And every day I’m afraid that it’ll come crashing around my ears like a house of cards,” I rasped.
“But you’re in control of—”
“I have no control,” I snapped. “Not really. It’s just an illusion, Johnny. You’re right not to trust me. I don’t always trust myself. And I assure you, I am the least heroic person you’ll ever meet. The craziest thing about me is that I can’t stop trying.”
Johnny’s mouth fell open. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat when he finally closed it. “I don’t know why, but I’m very turned-on right now.”
I threw my head back and guffawed. “Honesty does something for you, eh?”
“Yeah, it does.” He licked his lips, nodding absently. “I know you’re a bad idea, and I bet you think I’m a worse one, but I want you.”
“What do you want? Be clear.” My voice had a gravelly, sex-hazed tone. It took serious willpower not to leap across the table and devour him whole.
“I want you to fuck me.”
“Hard?”
His eyes fluttered and his nostrils flared in response. “Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Please.”
I stood slowly and held out my hand. “Invite me inside, Johnny.”
He nodded in agreement and shot to his feet.