Family Man (10 page)

It felt good.

Being with Trey felt good. Going out with him—on a date, yeah. So what? So he was dating a guy. So he was…gay, or whatever. What the fuck did it matter? He was having a good time. He was happy. He’d played skee-ball and watched a play and now was going to go dancing. They’d laughed and ate pizza and talked and talked, more than Vince thought he had on a date, ever.

There was nothing here to freak out over, just like Rachel said. And he wanted to do this again. The thought made his insides jump all over the place, like a skee-ball was rattling around inside him hitting nothing but 100s.

The jazz bar was a lot busier than it had been the other night they’d come, but it was still ten times more pleasant than that awful gay bar where he’d met up with Trey the last time. A live band played “In a Sentimental Mood” almost as good as Ellington and Coltrane. The dance floor was full, as was the bar, and all the tables. He caught a glance of himself in the mirror and saw that Rach was right, he looked damn fine. Trey too, and the two of them looked good together.

Vince grinned. All he needed was a scotch and a cigar and the moment would be damn near perfect.

He nodded to the bar. “Want anything to drink?”

“Water, please.”

“Sure thing.” Vince pulled out his wallet and elbowed into a free space to order. He got a bottle of water for Trey and a scotch neat for himself.

Trey took the water and smiled, but Vince couldn’t help but notice his date’s gaze drift down to his scotch, and that his expression went a little flat at the sight of the drink. If he hadn’t indulged in a single malt call, he might have put it aside and forgotten about it.

Instead he sipped even more casually than normal and kept watching Trey for clues as to why his ordering a scotch was such a bad thing. They stood there for a few minutes, until the song ended. When a new one started, Vince eased back happily against the wall behind him.

“Somebody in this band likes Coltrane.” He took a sip of his scotch and basked in the sultry saxophone. “I like this band.”

“Do you listen to a lot of jazz?”

“Oh yeah. But Coltrane is my favorite. Nobody has been able to make a sax sing like he could. These guys don’t do too badly.”

Trey leaned against the wall too, but he sagged a bit against Vince’s side. “It’s so…I don’t know. Not soft, but relaxing. Easy. I feel like I could float away.”

“That’s the idea. Jazz seduces you.” Seeing that Trey had drained his water bottle, Vince took one more sip of scotch, leaned over to put the unfinished glass on the bar and held out his hand. “Ready to dance?”

Beaming, Trey took his hand.

They found a bit of open floor space up front by the band. Vince herded them off to the side, in part because he was still a little self-conscious about dancing with a man, in part because it was dark there, and he liked the idea of dancing in the dark with Trey.

Still, when Trey settled into his arms, fitting their bodies close together, Vince watched the other couples to see who was watching him. A few were, though most didn’t seem to care, too wrapped up in each other. Maybe some of those who noticed looked like they didn’t care for two guys dancing. Maybe he read into it.

They weren’t the only same-sex couple on the floor, either. Two other male couples and a female pair were scattered amongst the heterosexuals. Realizing he’d just lumped himself in with the not-heterosexual crowd, the skee-ball went berserk inside Vince again, this time finding every gutter.

He shut his eyes and tried to shut off his stupid head, tried instead to focus on Trey.

It was a good distraction. God, but Trey just
fit
in his arms. A lot of women had, yeah, but not like this. It felt completely different to hold a man. Trey’s body was harder, more filled out, and in more than that hard ridge pressing against the front of Vince’s trousers. He smelled different too. Like a man. And it was so…right.

The band was playing Sinatra now, a smooth-voiced tenor singing “Like Someone in Love”. Vince pulled Trey closer, fitting their bodies so tight together they were nearly fused. He didn’t hide his erection, and when Trey shifted against him, subtly increasing the friction in time to the beat, Vince didn’t let it do anything but fuel the pleasure of the moment.

Trey nuzzled Vince’s neck, his nose, then his lips brushing Vince’s collar, his skin. “Vinnie?”

“Mmm?” Vince nuzzled back.

Trey’s lips moved along Vince’s jaw, tickled his ear. “This is a date.”

Vince grinned and rubbed the scruff of his cheek alongside Trey’s. “Yeah.”

Those tickling lips brushed his lobe, and a tongue darted out, making Vince shiver. “I want another one.”

The tongue had made Vince shiver, but those words shimmied right down to the bottom of his belly. “Sure.”

Slim hands gripped his hips, fingers curling into his backside. “I want a kiss.”

The heat slid lower, setting all of Vince into a slow, steady burn. He didn’t say anything, just pulled his head back far enough to meet Trey’s gaze, angle his head and close in on his mouth.

It started almost sweet, but they were both hard, both kneading hands into each other, and fuck if Trey didn’t taste more exotic than anything in the world. He worried for a second that Trey would dislike the scotch on his breath, but then Trey pushed him deeper into the shadows, into an alcove behind the speaker, and Vince didn’t worry about anything at all.

There was something incredibly freeing about being this turned on and being somewhat secluded. They were hidden but at the same time couldn’t go too far because they were still, technically, on a dance floor in a respectable establishment. Much as he wanted to undo Trey’s pants and take his cock in hand, as ready as he suddenly was for that kind of thing, he couldn’t, and it was a little bit of a relief.

Instead he ground against Trey’s pelvis like he was trying to screw him to the wall, and the soft, gasping noises Trey made only inspired Vince to dig his fingers deeper into Trey’s backside. The kiss was deep and crazy, mouths mating, tongues tangling, Trey’s hands pulling Vince in closer and closer until they almost couldn’t breathe. Vince’s nipples pebbled beneath his shirt, so stiff they jutted like rocks, super-sensitized points that made him moan against Trey’s lips.

Eventually the delicious tease turned over though, and common sense warned Vince he needed to slow the fuck down or he was going to come all over the inside of his pants. Trey seemed to be in a similar place, because when Vince pulled back, easing out of the kiss slowly, Trey didn’t draw him back, just held on tight, breathing hard.

When he was able, Vince said, “Will that do?”

Trey smiled like the sun itself, and even in the dark Vince could see the sparkle in those eyes. “Yeah.”

They stayed at the jazz club until a little past midnight. They danced, but they caught a table too and had a couple of sodas while Vince nudged Trey into telling him about school, idle stuff like that. Trey gave him an update on the group project that was driving him crazy, the one that had started at Emilio’s with the blond idiot. Trey asked about Vince’s family, about what was going on at the restaurant, where his parents were planning to vacation that summer.

Vince noticed they were staying carefully away from discussing Trey’s family. He wondered about that, but he didn’t ask.

When they finally headed out, he ignored Trey’s protests that he could go home on his own since it was completely out of Vince’s way, and he rode the EL back down to Trey’s house. They held hands on the train and on the walk back from the station, even though they were in full view of people who might recognize them both. Vince’s dick was already humming, thinking about what had to be a kiss on the stoop, hoping that maybe they could sit on the couch and make out a little bit more, that maybe he could grab hold of Trey’s cock after all. The idea wasn’t even alarming anymore, just exciting.

Except as they rounded the corner to Trey’s street, Trey became markedly tense, no longer sinking happily against Vince but training his gaze hard on the windows to his house. When he spoke there was a strange edge to his voice. Not anger so much as…reservation.

“My mom is still up. I would invite you in, but…” He trailed off, suddenly awkward and uncomfortable looking.

Vince’s dick sang a sad, sad song. No necking on the couch, then. “That’s okay. I should be heading back anyway. Work tomorrow, bright and early.” He stopped them at the foot of the stairs, turned Trey so that they faced each other and looked him right in the eye. “I had a great time tonight. I hope you did too.”

The smile came back to Trey’s face, not as much as Vince would have liked, but it was enough. “I did. It was great.” He looked like he was trying to rally himself and nudged Vince’s shoe playfully with the tip of his. “So. Do I get the fountain next time, since you admit it was a date?”

Next time.
Vince’s face was going to split from all this grinning. “Might be a bit cold, since the weather took a turn again.”

“I don’t know that I’m ready for a cabin getaway yet.”

“How about deep-dish pizza and the aquarium?”

Trey’s eyes were dancing once more. “Saturday?”

God, Vince wished. “I have a family thing that night.” He thought about inviting Trey along, but he wasn’t sure he was
that
ready, not yet. “Sunday afternoon?”

“Sunday it is. How about three? I’ll come to your place this time.”

Vince touched Trey’s cheek. “Sounds good to me.”

The kiss good night wasn’t as fiery as the one in the corner of the bar, but Vince almost liked it better. It was sweet and slow, more romantic than a Coltrane ballad. It wasn’t a kiss of lust or wanting, not entirely. It was a courting kiss, the kind you got when you were in high school and first dating. Except Vince wasn’t fifteen, and he wasn’t as hormone-crazed or as hurried as he’d been then.

Trey wanted courting. Vince found, the more he thought about it, that he did too.

He watched Trey disappear into his house, watched the lights turn on inside before he turned back toward the station. He let the evening swim through his mind on replay as he headed back home, as he undressed for bed, and as he lay awake listening to the traffic on the streets below.

No more panic. No more freaking out. He was dating Trey. He was…not entirely straight.

I’m having a good time,
he tried instead, when he felt his jaw start to tense up.
I like him. He likes me. I’m happy. And we’re taking our time.

And we’re going out again on Sunday.

Vince smiled, only a little nervously, into the dark.

Chapter Twelve

It was tough to face reality after my date with Vinnie. And yes, it
had
been a date.

I felt like I was flying. More than flying. It was like some crazy vibration, some wild beat within my body that kept me smiling, kept me dancing, kept my feet from ever touching the ground. I wanted to stand on my front porch with him all night, just to feel his fingertips on my cheek one more time.

Walking through my door was a rude and sudden crash landing back to earth.

“Home already?” my mom asked from the couch. “Figured you’d stay at your boyfriend’s house.”

“How often has that actually happened, Mom? Have I ever
not
come home?”

She shrugged, as if it were inconsequential. Her gaze never strayed from the TV.

I tossed my keys on the table. I stared at her, where she sat swaying on the couch. It seems strange to say that an alcoholic can’t hold her liquor, but my mother couldn’t. She became confused and clumsy. Her words came out thick and slurred and slow. Usually I could tell how drunk she was by looking at her eyes. The further down the well she was, the less able she was to keep them open. Her eyelids would droop, and she’d teeter unsteadily in her own private darkness.

She was a mess this time, her lids heavy, her mouth hanging open.

I debated going straight to my room, rather than letting myself be dragged down by her drinking, but the anger and the rage were so hot and fresh. I couldn’t let it go. I couldn’t walk away again.

“Why’d you do it this time?” I asked.

“Had a tough day.”

“A tough day? Doing what? Sitting here on your ass?”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand.”

“You’re right, Mom. I don’t understand. After working so hard to get sober, why would you throw it down the drain? You know how much I hate it when you drink.”

Her head bobbed lazily as she nearly toppled off the couch. “It was a fur coat.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I had one once.”

“I know. What does that have to do with anything?”

“It was rabbit fur. It was brown and gray. It was so soft.”

“I remember.”

“I lost it. Your dad and I went to Boston—”

“I know.” I’d heard the story a hundred times, but she continued on as if she hadn’t heard me.

“—and I guess I left it at the restaurant, but we went back. Your dad looked and looked. He even tried to offer a reward, but we never found it. He was so upset.”

“Mom,
I know
.”