Mandarin Orange: Sweet and Sour (5 page)

Even more messed up was that Riley just went on being a decent guy. Kelly was a little repulsed that Riley was involved with Peter Jamison in the
close friends
way. Even so, Kelly was becoming more and more sure that Riley was actually bisexual rather than gay. He still hadn’t asked, of course, because that would have been rude, but with the last vestiges of concussion gone, Kelly had noticed that Riley’s gaze lingered on women when they watched television. And Kelly couldn’t deny that while the small glances he’d caught Riley casting his way had set his gaydar to pinging, the muscled man didn’t set it to
singing
.

And now some of Riley’s friends had shown up, which only muddied the waters even further, unfortunately. Most bisexual guys didn’t have quite so many gay friends of the non-sexual variety, in Kelly’s experience, which Kelly couldn’t deny was limited, but still. That wasn’t to say that Riley’s friends weren’t sexual, just that they apparently weren’t sexual with
Riley
, if Kelly was any sort of judge.

“Well, I think it’s fabulous that Ry-ry’s being so nice to you.” That was Pauly, an absolutely stunning man who was a study in browns. Brown hair, brown eyes, and even brownish skin, though Kelly was fairly sure that was from tanning. “Then again, we already knew he was a prince. Sadly, he’s not
my
prince. What a good boy you are! Yes, you are!” That last was directed at Goobs, who had latched on to Pauly, apparently hoping for clandestine treats.

Another of Riley’s friends, this one nearly platinum blond with green eyes, laughed. “I have a feeling Randy and James wouldn’t like the idea of you having any more... princes... than you already do.” The blond leaned back into the couch cushions.

“Be nice, Troy.” Yet another friend, this one tall with light brown hair, and clearly involved with the blond. He was leaning against the arm of the sofa with one hand tangled in the blond’s hair, anyway. Was his name Jerry? Kelly wasn’t sure. The entire group of five had shown up all at once and Kelly couldn’t remember who was who. Aside from Pauly, because Pauly was... well, bold didn’t even begin to cover it.

So there was Pauly. The blond was apparently Troy. And it seemed Pauly had two different boyfriends, because Troy had said James and Randy. Okay. Kelly could deal with that. It took all kinds to make a good relationship, and Pauly didn’t seem at all bothered by Troy mentioning Pauly’s two lovers, so it clearly wasn’t a secret.

“I
am
being nice,” the blond -- Troy -- said with a grin. “I just don’t want Pauly to start thinking Riley means anything by it when he says Pauly’s got a hot little ass. The last thing we need is to have Randy and James getting worried.” Then Troy winked and Pauly and Jerry laughed. So did Riley and the other two men when they walked back into the living room on the tail end of Troy’s words.

“Jeremy. Dude.” That was Riley. And that was the guy’s name. Jeremy, not Jerry. Kelly figured he should have known that, considering how often Riley mentioned his best friend, though Riley had always said
Jer
, rather than Jeremy, until just then. “Pauly
does
have a hot little ass. I mean, look at it. Guess that makes Ballard right, for a change.”

Pauly, apparently trying to help, turned around and lifted the tails of his shirt, then shook the mentioned ass quickly. “I so do. Just ask my honeys.” Goober barked once, as though in agreement, and Riley laughed.

Okay. And I still don’t know if Riley’s gay or bi. God.

James, the lawyer who was a part of Pauly’s threesome, as far as Kelly could remember, snorted. “Yes. It’s hot. But even if you suddenly decided to take a shot,
Ry-ry
? Pauly’s ass wouldn’t be available. Trust me when I say Randy and I are more than capable of keeping his ass and other parts... occupied.”

Kelly couldn’t help laughing at the over-done pout that was on Pauly’s face when he stopped with the ass-shaking and turned to face them. Kelly didn’t
want
to laugh, mostly because James had two boyfriends while Kelly hadn’t managed to find even one who was interested in anything serious, but he did anyway. “I’m sure you are,” he said quickly, and everyone else laughed, too.

Troy rolled his eyes and pushed himself up from the couch. “Margaritas?” he said, like he was offering gold bars, and the way everyone snapped out a quick
yes
-- or in Riley’s case, a
fuck yes
-- had Kelly echoing them.

“I’ll help you,” Kelly added, moving from the chair he’d been occupying and following Troy into the kitchen.

“So, what can I do?”

The blond glanced at him and arched a brow, lips curving into a smile. “I wouldn’t say no if you were to get the margarita glasses from the cupboard over the fridge. I’ve got the rest of it handled.”

How weird was it that Riley had actual margarita glasses? Because when Kelly opened the aforementioned cupboard, there they were. Enough that Kelly lost count at twelve. “Weird.”

Troy chuckled. “Jeremy and I gave those to him for his birthday. We have these margarita parties on Monday nights, but Riley’s always working. So we make a point of having a little afternoon gathering here every month or so. It lets Riley feel like he’s in the loop.” Troy frowned slightly. “And he is. He talks to Jeremy every couple days, so he knows what’s going on with our group. He just doesn’t have the chance to party with us very often.”

“So you’ve known him for a long time.” Kelly hoped so, anyway, but Troy killed that hope with just a few words.

“Not really,” he said, as he lined up the glasses Kelly had set on the counter. “Jeremy used to work with Riley,” Troy continued, pouring liberal amounts of tequila into all but one of the glasses. “They’re best friends, you know? But I know Riley pretty well, even if it’s been less than a year. He’s a good guy, though he still thinks I stole Jeremy from him.”

Troy picked up the bottle of triple sec next and added a dash to the already poured tequilas as he went on. “And I guess that’s fair enough.” He sounded amused. “I met Jeremy and I helped work things out so he could stop working and go back to school full time. So in a way, I guess I did steal Jeremy. Can you grab the gallon jug of mix from the fridge? You can go ahead and pour the mix, if you don’t mind. Oh, the empty glass is Jeremy’s. He doesn’t drink much, and he’s a complete lightweight. More than a single beer and he gets super-chatty, then falls asleep.” Troy grinned.

Less than a minute later, there were seven margaritas on the counter, one without liquor and none with salt. Goober would have been uncontrollable if there was salt on the glass rims. Goobs loved salt even more than celery, so the lack on the glasses was a relief. Besides, too much salt was never a good idea, even for people.

“I’ve trained the guys to stay out of the kitchen while I’m mixing drinks,” Troy murmured. Then he called out “Come and get it!”

Kelly laughed and took one of the alcohol-laden glasses as the doorway filled, the remaining five men pushing their way through. Then he took a sip and he knew his eyes were going wide, but that was fine.

“Troy,” Kelly said, after a full three seconds of savoring the flavor. “I didn’t want to say so before, but I hate margaritas. Except yours. I could drink this every single day.”

Riley grinned and drained the glass in his own hand in one long swallow. “Dude. You don’t know the half of it. Troy is the fucking Margarita King! Hey, should you be drinking with a concussion?”

Kelly glared at Riley and took another sip, slowly and deliberately. “I told you I’m fine.” He transferred his gaze to Troy, easing up on the glaring. “So. Margarita King? Really?”

Troy blushed and Jeremy laughed.

“It’s true,” Jeremy said, taking a sip from Troy’s glass while holding his own full virgin drink. “Troy’s won the local amateur contest for three years running. It’s all because of his secret recipe.”

Kelly arched one brow. “See, that sounds like a challenge,” he said, then took a careful, slow sip. He held the liquid in his mouth for a few seconds, letting it tingle on his tongue. Then he swished it around slightly and swallowed. “I’m guessing, here, so don’t laugh too hard, okay?”

Troy grinned. “Go for it. I promise not to make you feel bad.”

Kelly hesitated for a moment, but Riley moved closer and bumped against his shoulder.

“Dude,” Riley said, “I swear you won’t get kicked off the island if you answer wrong. Some fucking asshole at the last contest guessed wallpaper paste, but he was full of shit and it turned out his cousin was one of the other fucking finalists. So just say whatever the fuck you’re gonna say so we can have more drinks.” Then Riley winked. At him. God.

“Um. Okay.” Kelly darted a glance at Troy, and the man looked so smug and certain that Kelly couldn’t help saying exactly what he’d thought. “It tastes like you make your simple syrup with turbinado sugar. That would be raw sugar, if you don’t know the name. And I’m guessing that tiny tinge of nutty heat is dried, powdered habanero peppers. I think I’m missing a couple of things, but that’s what jumps out at me right now.”

Kelly offered up his own smirk and took another sip of his drink. “So, how did I do? I’m usually pretty good at figuring this stuff out. My friend Trevor, back in California, makes this amazing thing he calls a Citrus Explosion, and I was the only one who could tell he was using pureed mandarin oranges in addition to mandarin orange vodka. I could give you the recipe if you like.”

***

“Dude.” Riley knew his grin was huge, but he had good reason. “I’ve never seen Ballard speechless before. Fucking awesome.” It really, really was. Troy Ballard always seemed so cocky and in control, but Kelly had knocked the guy stone-silent with just a few words. “How did you do that?” He lifted his bottle of water and took a long swig.

Kelly shrugged and went back to surfing the ‘net, fingers flying over the keyboard of Riley’s computer. “I told you I like cooking, right? Well, I’m pretty good at figuring out flavors, and turbinado sugar has a distinctive taste.”

“Uh-huh. And the other shit? Powdered something or other?”

A laugh answered Riley’s question. “In addition to training those budding martial artists lucky enough to interest him, Grandfather grows peppers. All kinds. He even turned one of the rooms at his place into sort of a greenhouse. So one thing I know really well is chili peppers, and habaneros don’t taste quite like anything else, especially when they’re dried.”

Riley chuckled. “Whatever. Any time you want to fuck with Ballard’s head, feel free. Just let me know ahead of time so I can make a point of being there to see it.”

“You don’t seem to like him much.” Kelly’s eyes stayed locked on the monitor, but Riley could see the small furrows in the guy’s brow. “That can’t be fun if he’s your best friend’s boyfriend. Can I ask... I mean, it’s none of my business, but were you and Jeremy ever more? Is that why you don’t like Troy?”

Riley froze, water bottle halfway to his lips. “Oh, man. Kelly. Dude. That’s so fucking wrong.” He shook his head at the absurdity. “Jeremy’s totally not my type. And why the fuck do you think I don’t like Ballard? I do. We’re just not touchy-feely with each other. Shit, I figure the twinkies-three have that whole hands-on part covered enough for everyone.”

Kelly shrugged again, then shook his head, and while Riley was surprised to realize that he actually wanted to know why Kelly thought that about him and Ballard -- and the other thing, about him and Jeremy, for fuck’s sake -- a quick glance at the clock told Riley that he didn’t have time to fuck around anymore if he was going to keep his ruse going.

“Shit. I need to get a move on, man. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” Fuck if Riley wanted to leave, all of a sudden, but he didn’t have much choice if he wanted to keep up the pretense of going to work, and he did. For the moment, he did. That would change in a few days, when he came home and said he’d taken some of his vacation days, but for the moment, Riley could stand it.

Kelly finally turned away from the computer and grinned. “My head’s pretty much better, so don’t be too surprised if I’m still awake when you get back. I was thinking about watching a movie or something, but I won’t be loud if you’re tired. Um, we could hang out for a while, if you feel like it, but it’s fine if you’re more interested in sleeping.”

The offer was unexpected, but it had Riley feeling good. Like maybe he and Kelly were becoming friends or something, and that was cool. He’d already suspected that he wanted to be friends with the guy, and a late night watching TV or whatever actually sounded like fun. It had been months -- more than six, in fact -- since the last time Riley had spent a late night hanging out with a friend, aside from the Margarita Monday at Troy’s the night before, once Riley had left work because he’d been sick of Maughrey and the new trainee. After Jeremy’d hooked up with Ballard, most of Riley’s nights had been spent prowling the clubs for chicks. Unfortunately, his last few exes had spread the word about him.
A nice guy but emotionally unavailable
seemed to be the consensus, damn it.

“I’ll bring some beer home. Do you even drink beer? After today, I know you’re cool with tequila, but--”

“Beer’s fine,” Kelly interrupted with a grin. “Whatever kind you like. See you, okay?”

Riley managed to say his goodbyes, even while trying to ignore the uncomfortable sensation that he’d just been dismissed. Of course, Kelly was doing something or other on the ‘net, so maybe that was it. Riley hoped so, anyway, because for whatever reason, he didn’t like the idea that Kelly was glad to see him leave.

He got into his Bronco and backed out of the drive. He tried to call Peter’s cell, but only got voice mail. Again. Riley didn’t bother to leave a message. He’d already left at least ten in the last three days, and he had to face the truth. His uncle would call back whenever the man felt like it. Until then, Riley was on his own.

Or not exactly on his own just yet, because before Riley even got to the end of the street, he could hear Goober howling to be let in from the balcony, where he’d been sequestered so Pauly and the rest could leave unmolested. Goober had gotten totally fucking attached to Pauly, or maybe to the vegetables with Italian dressing Pauly had kept feeding to the dog. Weird fucking mutt, begging for celery. Goober howled again, just as Riley reached the stop sign. It was strange, and Riley would never admit it -- ever-- but the sound made him smile.