Geekspeak: Backlink
Definition: Any inbound link received by a web node (web page, directory, website, or top-level domain) from another web node.
Alex was so pissed off at Gideon—and at himself for being stupid enough to care—that he couldn’t risk going straight home after his shift. With the new meds, his dad would probably be awake, and even though he wasn’t firing on all cylinders, he was supersensitive to moods. So Alex decided to take Landon up on his offer and stopped by the restaurant.
He rang the back door buzzer of Downstairs Downtown, and a couple of minutes later Landon opened the door—tall, lanky, and dressed in civvies instead of his chef’s whites or the black-tie monkey suit he wore when he was hosting.
“Thank God. Come in and distract me before I choke on all this paperwork.” Landon pushed the door aside and held it open, his forehead gleaming like a beacon in the corridor’s harsh fluorescent light.
“Jesus, man. Could you be more fish-belly white? Get out in the sun, for God’s sake,” Alex grumbled as he stomped inside.
“It’s November in Portland. There is no sun.” Landon shut the door with an extra jerk, and the latch clicked into place. “What’s up your ass tonight?” He led Alex into the restaurant’s office. “Or is that the problem? Nothing up your ass?”
“Fuck off. You know I don’t bottom.”
Landon held up one square hand. “Stop. The less I know about your sex life, the happier I am.” He scrunched his face. “Shit. Now I know something about your sex life. I need a drink.” He pulled a bottle of Patrón out of his credenza, poured two shots, and pushed them both across the desk. When Alex raised his eyebrows, Landon shrugged. “Seems like you need ’em more than I do. I figure if you drink two shots, your shitty mood will decrease by half and I’ll be able stand being in the same room with you.”
“What the hell is that? Bartender’s math?” Alex nudged a glass back toward Landon. “Thanks, but I’ll stick with one.”
Landon settled into his worn leather chair. “Okay, let’s hear it. Spill those guts, dude.”
Alex knocked back his shot and grimaced against the burn. “Nothing to spill.”
“Like shit there’s not. You probably don’t need an air compressor to spit nails right now.”
“It’s stupid.” Alex tilted his shot glass, watching the dregs of the tequila coat the inside. “I ran into a guy I had a thing for, and not only does he not remember me, but he looks at me like I’m an ax murderer.”
“Sounds like a douche bag. Forget him.”
“Not so easy. You haven’t seen his ass.”
Landon slapped a hand over his eyes. “Aauugh! No sex details!”
“Deal with it. Besides, he’s not a douche bag. Not to everyone anyway. He’s one of my sister’s roommates. When that asshole, Will Tuckett, dumped Lin, he helped her get through it.” Alex chuckled. “He texted her these obscene limericks—”
“He wrote those? Those were awesome.”
“I know, right? Lin said Gideon claimed it was Tuckett’s fault for having such a limerick-able name.”
“Your sister was okay with them? I mean, I’ve never heard her say anything spicier than ‘darn,’ and even then she apologized for it.”
“That’s because our mom disapproves of swearing. But I think Lin liked the limericks, or at least she found them comforting. Enough to save them all.” And to give Alex the chance to copy them off her phone.
Landon leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “How’s your dad doing? I’ve been meaning to stop by and visit, but we’ve been slammed lately with our sous-chef on maternity leave.”
“Not good. His health coverage is for shit.” Alex’s throat closed, and the corners of his eyes prickled. Must be the tequila’s fault. Yeah, right. “It’s not fair, man. I mean, my folks. They’re good people. Hard-working. They deserved a couple of breaks, but instead, this shit happened. I think about some of the assholes we went to high school with. Didn’t have any worries except which car to choose for a graduation present. Which frat to pledge. How many classes they could cut without losing their tuition meal ticket.”
“Yeah, well, life ain’t fair. If it was, would I be in partnership with my sisters?”
“Probably.”
Landon opened his mouth. Shut it. Cocked one eyebrow. “Yeah. You’re right. But we’re not talking about me. What gives?”
The encounter with Gideon had overshadowed his earlier worries, but they came roaring back now. He was tempted to down the second tequila shot after all. “We may have to sell the house on Pettygrove. Property taxes are a bitch.”
“Isn’t it cut up into apartments? Raise the rent.”
“Lin and her roommates live on the second floor. I’m not gonna raise their rent.”
“What about the other tenants? Soak them for it.”
Alex gave Landon his get real dude look. “There aren’t any other tenants. That’s part of the problem. The first floor used to be a travel agency, but they went out of business and I haven’t had a chance to renovate it for a new tenant, so it’s not bringing in any money. I want to redo the attic too. Dad started the work before he got sick. If he’d been able to finish—”
“So finish it now.”
“Right. In my fuck-load of free time.”
“Is the first floor livable?”
“Yeah, if you’re a travel agency.”
“Don’t be an asshole. I mean does it have a kitchen? A bathroom? Something that could pass for a bedroom?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll take it.”
“What?”
“Do you remember my apartment? Cinderblock walls, dude. It has no soul. An ex-travel agency will be an improvement. Although I’d live in a broom closet if it had a decent stove and room for my knife block.” Landon opened a drawer and pulled out a checkbook. “First and last months’ rent and a deposit. That’s standard, right? What’ll it set me back?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“Pathetic, Henning. What kind of slumlord are you?” Landon filled out the check with his block printing and scrawled his signature across the bottom. He ripped it out of the book and slid it across the desk to Alex. “Here.”
Alex glanced at it and pushed it away.
“Too much.”
“Bullshit. I’ve priced apartments in Northwest before. This is a lowball offer.”
“Landon—”
“You think I’ll be an easy tenant?” He leaned back with a creak of unoiled gimbals. “Wait until you see the renovations I’ll demand on the kitchen.”
“How am I going to renovate it with you squatting there?”
“I’m not fussy. Start with the attic. Then I’ll live there while you redo my place. In fact, I can help with both.” He waggled his eyebrows and grinned, the corners of his brown eyes crinkling in a way that reminded Alex they weren’t kids anymore. “I can wield a mean power drill.”
“Not touching that one.”
“Good move.” He pointed to the check in Alex’s hand. “That’ll help on the tax front, right?”
“I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.” Landon squeezed Alex’s knee. “It’s not for you, man, or even for me. This is for your folks.”
Alex ran one hand across his head, stomach snarled like badly laid wiring. He wanted to refuse, but couldn’t. “Yeah. Sure. Thanks, man.”
Landon pushed himself out of his chair. “Ah, come here, you big lug.” He pulled Alex into a bro hug, slapping his back. Alex wasn’t short, but at six five, Landon made him feel like a pygmy.
“I gotta get home. I shouldn’t have left Mom on her own this long anyway. Thanks for the shot and the shot in the arm.”
“You got it. But I haven’t forgotten about your secret crush. Next time, you’re not getting away until I get the whole sordid story.”
“Dream on, pal.”
The next day, Gideon made good on his invitation to take his darling girls out—although given his stupid schedule, they had to do a very late lunch instead of dinner. When he arrived at Hana K’s Bar and Bistro, their usual comfort-meal spot, only Charlie and Toshiko were sitting in the booth.
He dropped onto the bench next to Charlie and kissed her cheek. Toshiko—Portland’s pocket-sized answer to Seven of Nine—nodded to him. Maybe he should have sat next to her instead. As much as he loved to cuddle with his roomie, having Toshiko’s laser-beam gaze focused on him from across the table secretly terrified him—it was as if she could slice right through his fabulously shiny presentation layer and detect that his soul held no content whatsoever.
“Where’s Lin? Couldn’t she get away from work?”
Toshiko tilted her head a fraction of an inch. “She could, but she chose to visit her family instead.”
Gideon knew the world didn’t revolve around him—really he did—but he couldn’t help feeling a little hurt. It was bad enough that he hardly ever saw Charlie—when he’d helped her land her man, he’d forgotten a cogent point: with someone else consuming her time and emotional CPU cycles, she wouldn’t have time for Gideon anymore. And now Lin was virtually MIA—always at work or at her parents’ house, never home except to sleep.
“Why hasn’t Lin ever introduced us to her family? We would have met them at the wedding if douche bag Will hadn’t run out on her. Do you suppose it’s because her father is our landlord? Would socializing with your tenants be too awkward?”
“Perhaps because of you, Gideon.” Toshiko’s matter-of-fact tone betrayed nothing of her actual feelings, but the suggestion lodged in his chest like a mini-javelin.
“Moi? Nonsense. Everyone loves me. It’s a curse.”
Toshiko simply observed him without blinking. Too bad she didn’t gamble—she had the best poker face in the known universe.
He shook his bangs out of his eyes and lifted his chin. “I refuse to believe that our darling girl could have been produced by a homophobic family, if that’s what you’re implying. But if that’s the case, we should double our efforts to keep her in our little circle instead.”
“As always, you are too quick to judge. I’m not referring to your sexual orientation. But you are not a restful person. One must be of the correct temperament and in the proper mood to withstand the experience.”
Gideon stared at her. “I’m someone that has to be withstood? God, how mortifying.”
“Never mind that.” Charlie jiggled his elbow. “Why in the world did HouseMatters cancel your project? Did they go with another designer?”
“No. They decided to postpone. In fact, all of my potential clients have decided to postpone. It’s like an anti-upgrade epidemic.”
“But that’s good, right? At least you know that if they weren’t doing nothing, they’d go with you.”
He slumped in his seat. “Somehow, ‘Wallace Web Design: Better Than Nothing’ isn’t exactly the branding huzzah I’m going for.”
Charlie tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. “Seriously, G. What’s the matter? It’s not only a cancelled project or two. There’s something else.”
Nothing less than the threat of a three-dollar haircut could force him to confess the depth of his financial worries, especially in front of Toshiko. But if he knew Charlie, she’d keep digging until her data-diva soul was satisfied. Redirect. “Well, there’s this guy . . .”
Charlie sat up straight, the gleam of an inveterate matchmaker lighting her sherry-colored eyes. “You’ve never moped about a guy before, G. This is a positive step. Tell us all about him.”
“I met him at the jobsite. He thinks I’m nothing but a menial, which is understandable, since the only time I saw him, I was wearing those vile paisley jeans, thank you very much.” He gathered his tattered attention and focused on Charlie. “You know how devastating a bad first impression can be.” And he’d made more than his share of those in the last thirty-six hours.
“Don’t get obsessed with the visuals, G. What is it you always tell me? Without content, presentation is nothing but an optical illusion—ones and zeroes conspiring to trick the eye.”
“Don’t throw my own words back at me, Charles. It’s highly irritating.” He turned in his chair to locate a server and caught sight of a familiar profile near the host’s stand.
“Oh my god. Oh my god. There he is.” Gideon flounced around to face Charlie, his back toward Jared. “How do I look? How’s my hair? God, I hate this sweater. Why did you let me leave the apartment wearing this sweater?”
“Calm down. You’re adorable—as usual.”
Gideon snorted. “Not lately.”
“Well, trust me, he’s toast, because you’ve got it going on today. Point him out. We have to see the guy that’s got you this flustered.”
“By the door. The gorgeous, mouthwatering man next to the vase with the thyroid condition.”
“There are a number of men in that vicinity.” Toshiko calmly sipped her mineral water. “You should learn to be more precise.”
Gideon risked a glance over his shoulder. Jared was chatting with the hostess, a slight frown on his face, one elbow propped on her podium, his body one long, elegant curve. Tosh was right—a half-dozen guys were standing in the same general area, including that electrician. Again. Good lord, he really was everywhere. No elegant curves on that guy; he was all planes and angles, from the broad cheekbones and square jaw of his face, to the inverted pyramid of his torso. Never mind him, no matter how hard he is to miss.
“Hugo Boss jacket. Houndstooth scarf.”
Charlie peered through the mood lighting and scrunched up her nose. “Ewww. You’re kidding? The guy with the chin toupee?”
“Shut up. It’s totally hip.”
“It may be totally hip, but it looks totally stupid.”
“You’re biased because Daniel’s clean-shaven and has a chin cleft the size of the Columbia Gorge.”
“Think of it this way, G. What do you suppose he’s trying to hide? Too much chin? Or too little?”
“Who cares? It’s not as if I can bear his children, so any unfortunate recessive genes can be ignored. Okay, you’re on point. Tell me if he notices.”
Gideon stood up and tugged the hem of his sweater, wishing the #3399FF turquoise weren’t quite so garish. Hmmm. Jared was standing in a highly inconvenient spot: hemmed in by a pair of ficus trees in a backwater eddy of miscellaneous twentysomethings. Managing a nonchalant flyby would be tricky, but Gideon was the master of casual eye contact.
He laid out his flight plan. The more floor he covered, the more opportunity for Jared to see that they were in the same league, plus it would allow the guy to scope out his ass, which looked awesome in these jeans. Thank God he hadn’t changed into his work clothes yet, which unfortunately still consisted of those paisley frights.
First stop—the bar. Not that he intended to drink anything, with his nightly stint in purgatory only a couple of hours away, but wandering the room without a drink in his hand practically screamed desperation.
“Ryan, my pet. One of your finest martinis. Extra dirty, with two of your roundest, plumpest olives.” Might as well set the mood. Sophisticated with overtones of raunch.
Now, how to keep Jared in sight without being überobvious? Panning the room oh-so-casually, he flipped his bangs so he could watch from under the fringe. Ah yes—subtlety, thy name is Wallace. He pretended to study the rows of top-shelf liquor while he tracked Jared in the mirror, although the gaze he kept snagging was the electrician’s. Just my luck.
Ryan returned. “Here you go, G. So dirty it should be banned in several states.”
“You’re an angel. Keep the change.”
Gideon held his glass at the ideal angle to show off both his pecs and biceps in his form-fitting sweater. Not that he was especially built, not like Enormo the Electrician, but he was perfectly in proportion, which was just as important. He sauntered toward the ficus lagoon.
Someone grabbed his elbow. “G. There you are.” Travis. OMG, seriously? Travis jerked his arm again, and Gideon lost his balance and his grip on the drink. He fumbled, and the glass cartwheeled down his body to shatter at his feet.
Gideon stared at the wet patches spreading over his chest and crotch, a double whammy of discomfort and embarrassment. When he glanced at the spot where Jared had been holding court, it was vacant, but the electrician smirked at him before he turned and left with a take-out bag clutched in one fist.
God. October-the-sequel just got better every day.