Thirty-Four

Trey shuffled forward and dropped his load of heavy boxes on Brian’s kitchen table with a thud.

“Do you think you have enough beer?” Ethan asked, eyeing the stack of 24-packs.

“That’s just the domestic stuff,” Trey said, returning to his car for the brown bottles and the green bottles and some clear bottles too. Ethan helped him shove the cans and bottles into the tubs they’d filled earlier with ice.

“Did you get all the snacks?” Ethan asked.

“Yep. In the front seat. Couldn’t fit them in the trunk.”

They made a single trip to the car, overloading their arms and hands with sacks of junk food so they wouldn’t have to go out more than once.

“I can smell those fajitas,” Trey said, inhaling deeply as they entered the kitchen. His man could cook some damned fine Mexican food, and it hadn’t been all that hard to convince him to give up his entire morning to cook.

Large metal trays lined the kitchen counter, and Ethan pointed to each in turn. “There’s also tacos, enchiladas, quesadillas, toppings for loaded nachos, and I tried to make tamales, but that was a complete failure. Too bad Mamá isn’t here.”

Trey laughed and kissed his beard-stubbled chin. “Do you really want your mother at a rock star’s bachelor party?”

“No way in hell,” Ethan said, rubbing the back of his neck and grinning sheepishly. “But I do want some of her tamales.”

“Maybe we’ll go visit her before we head to Europe. I still haven’t met your forty-five brothers.”

“Six brothers,” Ethan said, his smile fading. “And some of them are more close-minded than others. So maybe it’s best if you don’t meet them.”

Trey knew he could win over anyone he tried to charm, but he wouldn’t push the issue. He wanted Ethan to be relaxed and have a good time tonight. He was sure Ethan needed to unwind as much as he did, and bringing up topics that bothered Ethan would eat at him all night. Trey was quite familiar with his broody moods by now.

Sed came downstairs barefoot, wearing shorts and a T-shirt, his short hair still wet from a shower. “Dear lord, something smells good.”

“My man can cook,” Trey said, turning to the counter and lifting the foil off one of the pans.

“And my man can buy beer and junk food,” Ethan said.

Sed laughed. “He is good at that.”

“When is everyone supposed to get here?” Trey asked, glancing at the clock above the oven door. “I can’t be expected to wait when I’m starving.” He selected a strip of seasoned beef and stuck it in his mouth. The kick of cilantro and lime on his tongue made him moan in bliss.

Sed shook his head. “You have no self-control, Trey Mills.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Sed nodded in Ethan’s direction. “Thanks for cooking, man. Appreciate it.”

Ethan nodded, the hint of a smile on his lips. “No problem. I actually enjoy it.”

“Not as much as I do,” Trey said, sampling a strip of green pepper from the fajita tray and then an onion. And another strip of beef. Might as well grab one of those homemade tortillas while he was at it. Was that sour cream next to the guacamole? And Ethan’s homemade pico de gallo? Oh lord.

The doorbell rang, and Sed went to let the guests into Brian’s house. Sed’s apartment was actually better equipped to sponsor a bachelor party, but the ladies were having their own gathering at Sed’s place tonight, so Brian had volunteered to host. He’d taken Malcolm to his parents’ house to babysit quite a while ago. It was their first time being responsible for their tiny grandson on their own, so Brian was probably showing them instructional videos and adding thick padding to all the walls and the floor or some such shit.

“I’ve got the strippers,” Eric said, pushing half a dozen blow-up dolls into the house one after another. Trey could only imagine what he’d looked like driving down the interstate with a convertible full of blow-up dolls. Eric, followed by Jace carrying what appeared to be a bowling ball on a chain, carried the final sex doll indoors between his palms. It was shaped like a sheep. “This one is for little man.” Eric squashed the balloon sheep into Jace’s crotch. “Aw, the Love Ewe loves you already, Tripod.”

Jace stuffed the Love Ewe under one arm. He was so used to Eric giving him shit that it no longer bothered him.

“I’ve got the movies,” Brian said, rushing into the house and kicking a defenseless blonde blow-up doll out of his path.

“Porn!” Eric shouted, grabbing a sack out of Brian’s hands. “What do we have here?” He pulled out a DVD case and scowled. “Finding Nemo?”

Brian’s face fell. “Shit, did I grab the wrong sack?” He yanked the bag away from Eric and pulled out a copy of Toy Story and not the dirty one. “Then what did I leave with my parents?”

Trey snorted at his horrified expression and took another bite of the fajita he’d accidentally assembled.

“I’ll be back.” Brian rushed out of the house with his sack of children’s flicks. Seconds later tires squealed as he peeled out of the driveway.

More of Sed’s friends showed up and descended on the spread of Mexican food like a pack of starving hyenas.

“And you were worried about leftovers,” Trey said to Ethan as he scraped the last bit of nacho cheese out of a crockpot and plopped it on his plate of loaded nachos.

Since Brian had yet to return with their traditional bachelor-party entertainment, Sed switched on a baseball game on the big-screen TV and they all crowded into the family room with their paper plates of food and their beer and their willingness to get loud and obnoxious. Jace sipped wine straight from a bottle, listening to Eric prattle with his mouth full. Sed was entirely absorbed in the baseball game, as were most of the other guys. A few guests were tucked into corners in smaller groups, shooting the shit with friends they hadn’t seen in a while. Trey sat on the sofa as close to Ethan as humanly possible, surprised that he didn’t squirm to put space between them with all the dude-type witnesses in the room. Ethan helped himself to Trey’s enormous plate of nachos and sort of paid attention to the game.

Brian returned near the bottom of the fifth inning, looking relieved that everyone wasn’t sitting around staring at a blank, porn-less TV screen. “My dad refused to let me have my videos back unless I brought him along. I hope that’s okay.”

“I can only stand about ten minutes of a crying baby,” said Malcom—the man that the perfect, should-never-be-crying-for-ten-minutes-in-the-first-place baby was named after—as he entered the room behind Brian.

A hush fell over the group and everyone stared. Malcolm O’Neil was a living rock legend, one of the greatest guitarists who ever lived. And people revered him. Not Trey, of course. He couldn’t stand the guy, the most arrogant, self-serving prick he’d ever met. But most people thought Malcolm O’Neil was a god. Even his son—Brian “Master” Sinclair—was a nobody compared to his father.

“Wait,” Ethan said. “Malcolm O’Neil is Brian’s father? Are you fucking shitting me?”

Wonderful. Even Ethan was impressed.

Brian and his dad went into the kitchen, everyone in the room rubbernecking to watch the great Malcom O’Neil pass by, and then when he was out of sight, they returned to watching their ballgame or bullshitting or stuffing their faces. All Trey could wonder was how Brian felt about having his father at what was supposed to be a fun and relaxing evening. Brian’s greatest ambition had always been to make the man proud of him, so when his dad was around, he became this scarcely recognizable, boot-licking, nervous imbecile.

Brian returned to the room with a plate containing a broken taco, cheese-less nachos, the bottom half of an enchilada, and four bottles of Corona. His eyes met Trey’s, and with a look of relief he approached the sofa, squeezing himself into the small space between Trey and the sofa arm. Even though Ethan shifted over to give them a bit more room, Trey was squashed between them like an uncomfortable passenger on an overcrowded subway.

“Couldn’t tell him no?” Trey asked.

Brian glanced over his shoulder at his father, who’d been drawn into a group of his worshippers near the kitchen doorway. “What do you think?”

Brian set his plate on the sofa arm and twisted the top off his first beer. He downed the entire thing before opening a second.

“We agreed not to get too drunk tonight,” Trey reminded Brian. “We have a lot of shit to do tomorrow to help Sed get ready for the rehearsal dinner.”

“I can hold my liquor.”

Trey snorted. “Sure.”

“Who wants to play sex-doll poker?” Eric called over the crowd.

Trey had no idea what that entailed, but it sounded like more fun than watching Brian get wasted because his dad was a tool. Trey enjoyed a good baseball game, but this one featured two teams he didn’t care enough about to hate and was a total snorefest of strikeouts.

“I’m in,” Trey said, wriggling out from between Brian and Ethan. He smiled down at Ethan and asked, “Do you wanna play, E?”

“Does it involve public indecency with a plastic woman?” Ethan asked, his dark eyes fixed on Trey’s.

“Probably.”

“All right, then,” he said, rising to his feet.

Trey caught Brian’s expression as he shuffled between him and the coffee table. He didn’t seem too happy about being deserted. “You can play too,” Trey offered.

“Maybe later,” Brian said as he tossed back the remains of his second beer and opened his third.

Eric had coerced Jace into playing, so with Trey and Ethan, Trey’s guitar technician, Jake, and one of Sed’s cousins, who introduced himself as Ben, they had six players either self-confident enough or foolish enough to sign up for Eric’s crazy game.

“We need one more,” Eric said. “Where’s the groom?”

Sed was cajoled into joining with insults about his manhood. He took their taunting good-naturedly, in a surprisingly good mood now that he wasn’t running all over town making last-minute wedding preparations. Once he was seated, Eric kept Sed’s attention while Jace snuck around his other side and clamped a heavy black manacle around his ankle. The ball attached to the other end of the chain barely moved when Sed jerked his foot in surprise.

“What the fuck is this?”

“Ball and chain!” the guys chanted. “Ball and chain!”

“Take it off, Jace,” Sed demanded.

Jace grinned. “Sorry, Sed. I don’t have the key.”

“Who has it?” Sed made a grab for Eric, but was hindered by the ball on his leg enough to allow his drummer to avoid Sed’s grasp.

“Aggie has it,” Jace said, calmly taking the vacant seat across from Trey.

Sed sagged back in his chair. “And how do I get it from her?”

“Dungeon or patience,” Jace said.

Apparently Sed chose patience.

Eric made sure each player had a blow-up doll on his lap. Jace was stuck with the Love Ewe—naturally. Every time Trey glanced across the table at Jace with that blow-up sheep sitting on his lap, he couldn’t help but laugh. It was even funnier than watching Sed drag that heavy ball around with him when he got up to grab another beer.

“So how does this work?” Ben asked, his arm hooked casually around his doll’s waist.

“Low hand each round has to demonstrate proper lovemaking techniques with his doll. It’s educational and fun,” Eric said. “And maybe a little messy.”

Sed gave Eric a stern look. “Pretend to demonstrate proper lovemaking techniques.”

“Fine,” Eric said, rolling his eyes at Sed as if he were the most boring man who had ever lived. “We’ll just pretend. But the winners get to choose the sex act the loser has to demonstrate.”

Trey lost the first hand, and the guys really took it easy on him. His sex doll—who he’d affectionately named Kiki—had to give him a blow job. He was fully clothed as he pretended to ram his cock into the very unsexy hole that served as her O-shaped mouth, but as the guys cheered her on, he got into it. He grabbed her by the ears as he bounced his crotch into her unnaturally peach face and then flipped her upside down, her oddly pointy legs sticking straight up in the air, and then he spun her around and around in circles—feet up, then down, and then up again as he twirled her body like a fan.

“The propeller technique,” he said, still spinning the doll in circles. “Yes, Kiki, just like that. Suck and spin. Suck and spin.”

The guys around the table were laughing so hard, Trey thought they might pass out, so he clutched the back of Kiki’s head and pretended to blow the biggest load of his life into her mouth before returning to his seat. He propped Kiki back on his knee and then dabbed at the corner of her mouth with his fingers. “You let a little get away from you there,” he said. “And after telling me you swallowed.”

After a second round of laughter died down, Jace dealt the next hand.

Ethan leaned in and whispered, “I think we might have to try that out for real sometime.”

Just the mental image of Ethan spinning around him had Trey gasping for air as he laughed.

Guys were now cramming into the room to watch the game. Jace lost the second hand and had to demonstrate doggie style on his Love Ewe. Eric made sheep baa-ing noises the entire time. Jace lost the next hand as well. Missionary with a sheep looked dangerous—what with the flailing hooves. When Jace lost his third hand in a row, he started to get suspicious, but he cow-girled the hell out of that poor sheep. Trey could honestly say that Jace pretending to get it on with a blow-up sheep while Eric made very inappropriate baa-ing noises was the funniest thing he’d ever seen. Even funnier than imagining Ethan as his dick propeller.

“Jeez, Jace, you suck at poker,” Jake said. “But you do know how to fuck a sheep properly.”

Jace stole the blow-up doll off Jake’s lap and forced him to take the sheep. Jace seemed prepared to show that he could do a fake woman as well as he could bone a plastic sheep, but Sed lost the next hand. He was all sorts of serious as he pretended to get it on with his blow-up doll on the surface of the table. Trey didn’t know whether to laugh or get turned on by the deep, rhythmic thrusts of Sed’s hips.

“This brings back memories,” Eric said, watching Sed’s demonstration like a State Fair judge.

“You are taking this way too serious, Sed,” Jace said, blowing out an uncomfortable breath.

“I can go all night,” Sed told him.

“I’m sure you can,” Jace said. “Trey, hurry up and deal.”

“We’ll finish this later, babe,” Sed told his plastic partner before he pulled her off the table.

Trey attempted to stack the deck so Ethan would lose. He so wanted to see how Ethan would handle his demonstration. Unfortunately, Trey stacked it wrong—he’d never learned to cheat properly—and all the shitty cards he’d meant for Ethan ended up in his own hand. When Trey’s seven high lost to Ben’s king high—yeah, his hand sucked that bad—Eric immediately called for Trey to demonstrate a threesome.

So maybe he’d get Ethan out of his chair in another way.

“Not sure if I’m talented enough to demonstrate a threesome,” Trey said with a crooked grin.

“Threesome, threesome, threesome!” chanted the guys watching the game.

Ben tried to hand off his blow-up doll for Trey’s threesome, but Trey just laughed. “Wrong kind of threesome, bro.”

Ben scrunched his brows over a pair of blue eyes so similar to Sed’s, the two men could have been brothers. “Huh?”

Trey rose from his chair, pressing Kiki’s back close against his front with one hand gripping her unlifelike boob. Were there really guys out there who could get off with one of these things? “I’ll do it, but I need some help.”

Ethan’s eyes widened when Trey took his wrist and attempted to pull him to his feet.

“I’ll help,” Brian said in a deep, slurred voice. “Just like old times.”

Trey turned and lifted an eyebrow at Brian. Yes, they’d participated in multiple threesomes in the past. Come to think of it, Trey had once fucked Brian’s wife in the ass, not long before she’d finally agreed to marry Brian. Trey had even stolen a kiss from the sensual guitarist that day—as it had been Brian who Trey had really wanted. Had always wanted. In Trey’s mind, Myrna had simply been the glue between them, the puzzle piece that allowed Trey to be as close to Brian as he’d allow.

Trey glanced down at Ethan, who had slumped into his chair as if relieved.

There wasn’t any danger in Trey demonstrating with Brian. Trey didn’t have an uncontrollable, insatiable need to touch him anymore. He was surprised that Ethan wasn’t more jealous, however.

“Kiki really likes anal,” Trey said, grinning at the crowd, “So I’ll get her worked up.”

Trey wasn’t quite as serious as Sed had been, but he didn’t spin her around like a propeller this time as he bounced the doll’s unlifelike rear hole on his crotch.

“Slow it down a little,” Brian said, shifting to stand in front of Kiki.

“You don’t actually touch each other, do you?” Ben asked way loud.

“Just a little,” Brian said, his hand splaying over Trey’s back.

Brian’s intense brown eyes held Trey’s gaze as they moved together in a familiar rhythm with nothing but a blow-up doll between them.

Why is he staring at me like that?

Brian had never held Trey’s gaze when they’d shared the company of a woman. If he had, Trey would have been enraptured. But his feelings had changed. Now he just felt uncomfortable. What was Brian’s deal? When Brian was drunk, he was always super horny and had incredibly poor judgement, but he’d never once looked at Trey the way he was looking at him now.

“They get the idea,” Trey said, stepping back and releasing his hold on Kiki.

Unsteady on his feet, Brian crashed hip first into the table, and Trey had to grab him to keep him upright.

“I think someone needs to sleep this off,” Trey said. “How many beers have you had?”

“All of them.” Brian closed one eye and tossed a hand out for emphasis, which made him careen into the table again. “And I washed them down with some whiskey.”

Something was eating at him deeply. Brian never got that sauced unless he had a problem he didn’t want to deal with.

Brian stumbled backward, almost sitting on Sed’s lap, before he found his feet again. He then swallowed hard, his face going instantly white.

“Are you going to throw up?” Trey asked.

Brian shook his head, blinked hard as if overcome with dizziness, turned another shade paler, and then nodded. He rushed toward the half bathroom off the living room. Trey darted after him in case he needed help.

“Hey,” Eric called after them. “It’s my job to hold Sinclair’s hair when he pukes.”

And he was definitely puking. At least he’d made it to the toilet.

Ethan came to stand next to Trey outside the mostly closed bathroom door. “Need some help?”

“Once he’s done puking his guts out, I’m going to put him in bed. Let him sleep this off.” And find out what was eating at him.

Ethan showed none of the jealousy he usually did when it came to Brian. Maybe he’d finally figured out that Trey was over him.

“Let me know if you change your mind,” Ethan said. He glanced over his shoulder before he leaned in and offered Trey a deep, searching kiss. Passion surged between them, and by the time they pulled apart, Trey was breathless with excitement. Catching movement over Ethan’s shoulder, he shifted his gaze and focused on Brian, who was standing in the doorway with an odd expression on his face.

“I feel better now,” Brian murmured. “But I should probably go home.”

“You are home,” Trey said with a chuckle.

Brian glanced around at his opulent new home. “Oh, yeah.”

“I’ll help you to bed.”

“You sure your boyfriend will be okay with that?”

Trey shrugged. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

After a brief, soul-searching look into Trey’s eyes, Brian turned away, flushed the toilet, and then rinsed out his mouth and washed his hands in the pedestal sink. He leaned heavily on Trey as they went upstairs to the master bedroom. After insisting that he had to brush his teeth, Brian let Trey tip him onto the king-size bed in the center of his enormous room.

Trey pulled off Brian’s boots and tossed them into the walk-in closet before helping him out of his jeans.

“You don’t look at me that way anymore,” Brian said.

“What way?” Trey asked, pulling back the covers.

“The way you look at him.”

“I love him,” Trey said, tucking a sheet around Brian’s shoulders.

“And you don’t love me anymore,” he whispered.

Trey brushed a long lock of Brian’s hair from his face. “Of course I do. Just not in the same inappropriate way I once did.”

Brian shook his head and then closed his eyes. “It was never inappropriate. I was out of line for never acknowledging it. Not even to myself.”

“Yeah, well, that’s in the past. Don’t let it eat at you.”

“I miss you, Trey. For as long as I can remember, you were always there, always taking care of me.”

“And who is taking care of you now?”

“You. In Myrna’s absence.”

“You’re happy with her, aren’t you? And with baby Malcolm?”

“Absolutely.”

Trey grinned at him and shook his head. “So what’s with the jealousy, Bri? Is that what this is? Are you jealous of Ethan? Of Reagan?”

“Why didn’t you ask me to be your best man?”

“Uh.” Trey’s heart sank low in his chest.

“I’ve been your best friend for fifteen years, and—”

Trey covered Brian’s mouth with his fingertips. “I should be marrying him, Brian. Not just Reagan, but Ethan too. Asking him to stand beside me as my best man was the only way I could think to involve him. And that’s nowhere near enough to show how important he is to me. To both me and Reagan. Not even close. I actually wish you were my best man instead of Ethan.” Trey straightened, drawing his fingers from Brian’s lips. “I wish you could stand beside me as I married them both, but the world just doesn’t work that way.”

“You want to marry the guy?” Brian asked.

Trey smiled. “With all my heart.”

“Then why did you ask Reagan to marry you?”

“Because I want to marry her.”

“I don’t understand how you can love two totally different people at the same time enough to marry them both. The sex? Yeah, I get that. I know from experience that it’s awesome. But the commitment? I can’t wrap my head around it no matter how hard I try.”

“Which is why you and I never would have worked out. And I’m okay with that.”

Brian stared deeply into Trey’s eyes for a long moment and then nodded. “Me too.”

“Good,” Trey said. “Now the next time something is bothering you that much, try talking it out before you reach for the booze.”

“I probably won’t remember any of this tomorrow.”

“I won’t let you forget,” Trey said. He crossed to the door, but paused with his hand on the light switch. “Hey, Brian?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his eyes already closed.

“Will you be my second best man at my wedding to Reagan next Saturday?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”