Scorched (Sizzle #2) (9 page)

“Wonderful. 
Suffice it to say that Mannie wasn’t interested in his Nick-shaped pillow last
night,” Devil snapped.  “He wanted – and
got
– my wife, the lucky
bastard.  As I’m sure you can imagine, this is a problem for me.  Especially since
I had plans for my wife.  Hot, nasty, sweaty plans.  And unless you fancy the
thought of starring in a little movie with me called ‘Fifty Shades of Black and
Blue’ in which I beat you senseless, then you’ll tell me what we’re gonna do to
get your man out of my bed and back into yours,” Devil threatened.

“Maybe I
am
gay,” Grant mused thoughtfully as he munched on a French fry, “because I’d
totally
go see that movie.”

Disturbed,
Devil paused mid-rant and cocked his head in Grant’s direction.  “Seriously, bud,
when was the last time you and Karen had a little ‘alone’ time?” he asked,
using air quotes.  Honestly, when he and Grant had been in college and shared a
dorm room, he’d been forced to listen to his best friend and his girl screw
like bunnies.  They were always all over each other.  He’d just assumed that
they were still as…
active
as they once were.

“I’ll take
your eight weeks and raise you a fiscal quarter,” Grant replied miserably. 
“That’s right, boys…three monkin’ months.”

“Monkin’?”
Devil repeated curiously, arching one dark, inky eyebrow as he waited for Grant
to elaborate – which he would.  He always did.

“Yeah,” Grant
retorted stubbornly, draining his whiskey sour in one long gulp, “Monkin’. 
It’s the
opposite
of fuckin’,” he explained, belching loudly.  “See,
monks are chaste.  Like me.  Get it?” he chuckled, elbowing Devil in the side. 
“At this rate, we’re both gonna be born-again virgins, man.”

Blinking,
Nick stared at Grant in fascination.  “You can tell me it’s none of my
business, but….
why
?”

“Why, what?”
Grant grunted, frowning into his now empty glass.

“Why haven’t
you and your wife been….you know….”

“Bumpin’
uglies?  Doin’ the deed?  Makin’ sweet, sweet loooooovvvveee to my lady?” Grant
drawled as Devil groaned and buried his face in his hands and begged whatever
God was listening for a quick death.

“Yeah,” Nick
nodded, interested now.

“Dear God, I
beg you not to answer that, man.  Karen is like a sister to me,” Devil begged,
grimacing at the thought of what could be coming next.

“Now you know
how I feel with Molly,” Grant replied unapologetically before directing his
gaze toward Nick.  “Well, it’s like this, Nicky, my boy.  I don’t get laid much
anymore because of a little thing I like to call the Three Ms.  Marriage,
Middle age, and Menopause.  Now, any one of those can put a damper on the sexual
shenanigans, but all three together?  Let’s just say that those creamy white
thighs of our lovers’ legs will close tighter than the vaults at Fort Knox.    It’s
a cocktail for catastrophe.  It happens to all of us couples, my friend.  Even
the gay ones,” he assured the younger man with a sympathetic smile.    “Yep, my
wife has entered into those confusing years where I’m never sure if she wants
to kiss me or kill me.  Although, lately, I really think she’s leaning toward
the ‘kill me’ option.  I got a notice in the mail that she upped my life
insurance.  I’m not exactly feeling safe in my own home these days,” he
lamented.

Catching the
deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression blanketing you Nicholas’ face, Devil
sighed heavily.  “You’re scaring the boy, Grant.  Knock it off.  The kid’s got
enough problems right now without hearing how his sex life will eventually
become as mythical as the existence of unicorns.”

“Better he
hears the truth from a friend,” Grant counseled wisely.

“Ignore him,”
Devil ordered, rolling his eyes at Grant’s Tony worthy theatrical performance. 
“He’s just bitter because his wife currently enjoys the company of E.L. James’
and Sylvia Day’s books more than his own.  As long as you and Mannie keep
things fresh between the sheets, you won’t have a problem,” he counseled
easily. 

“Well, fuck,”
Grant cursed.  “How the fuck is a normal guy supposed to keep up with these
fictional fuckin’ heroes that the girls are reading about lately?  It’s like
these romance authors are trying to raise the bar for husbands everywhere!” 
Zoning his keen gaze back on Nick, he pointed an accusing finger.  “And don’t
think you’re off the hook just because you sail your boat in another ocean. 
Nuh uh.  Apparently
gay
erotica is on the rise as well with the ladies
and gents.  Karen left her kindle on the table the other day and before I
realized what I was reading, I was learning how two men can get it on in the
shower!  And damn it, I was jealous of them,” he whined morosely. 

Even as his
lips twitched at Nick’s horrified expression, Devil slammed his hand down
against the table, the gold of his wedding ring flashing in the dim light. 
“Dammit, guys, we’re here because
my
sex life is in the shitter.  First,
I’m dealing with Molly’s insane insecurities about her body.  Which, did I
mention is completely fucking bonkers!  I mean, honestly, how could she ever
doubt how much I love her?  She gave me a freaking
child
!  What kind of
ungrateful shmuck would I be if I got bent out of shape over a little cellulite
and a few stretch marks?”

“Please, God,
tell me you didn’t say
that
to her,” Nick begged, his wide dark eyes
widening as he turned toward his boss.  “I’m homosexual as hell, but even I’m
astute enough to realize you should never say that shit to a woman that’s just
given birth.  The hormones running through her body could take down an
elephant, man!”

“This is
actually true,” Grant agreed with a bob of his head.  “Medically speaking,
she’s probably about as dangerous as Charles Manson circa 1972 at this
post-pregnancy stage.  Sleep lightly, my friend,” he advised blandly.

“Hey, I’d
finally gotten her past the point of wanting to do me harm and interested in
doing something a whole lot more enjoyable than fighting last night.  Like I
said, clothes were
off
.  Then, Mannie the Mood Killer arrived,” Devil
grumbled with a heated look toward Nick.  “Now, if I ever wanna see my wife
naked again, I’ve gotta somehow fix your relationship, Santino.  Now, how do
you propose we do that?”

“Hold up.  I’m
still a little unclear on why the hell you haven’t told your parents about your
intended,” Grant interrupted with a frown.  “You’re a successful, influential
guy in your field.  I mean, Devil, here… he only hires the best of the best.   And
you’re what?  Twenty-eight?  Thirty?  Don’t you think it’s past time to step
out of the closet?  Aren’t you getting claustrophobic in there yet?  And how in
the
hell
can you be closeted when you’re engaged to somebody as openly
flamboyant as Mannie?”

Running a
hand down his handsome face, Nick sighed.  “It’s complicated.”

“Then you
should
really
work on simplifying it before you talk to Armando,” Devil
warned evenly.  “The one thing I know about that Latin lover of yours is that
he hates being played for a fool, my man.  And right now, he feels like the
biggest sucker on the street.  So, practice on us…pretend we’re Armando and
talk this out.”

“Oooohhh,
role play.  This’ll be fun,” Grant grunted, waving his empty glass in the air.

“My parents
are known to be a bit….difficult,” Nick began slowly as his fingers nervously
toyed with the frayed edge of the paper napkin underneath his glass.

Devil
couldn’t help his dry laugh.  Hearing Nick’s description of the uptight,
judgmental people he’d met ten years ago at a charity benefit was enough to
have him shaking his head in disgust.  Those people weren’t
difficult. 
Nick’s
parental units (because calling them parents was too kind in his mind) were
assholes, plain and simple.  He still remembered how they’d looked down their
noses at him.  His biggest sin had been that he was a self-made man rather than
a member of the old money set they preferred their son to associate with.  The
fact that he’d also been the proud grandson of poor Irish immigrants had only
provided the icing on their judgy cake.  While he and Nick had hit it off and
began a lasting friendship, Nick’s parents had made him feel like an unwelcome
interloper among their Country Club cronies.   Devil would be lying if he said
that he hadn’t taken extreme delight in hiring their talented son years later
and relocating him hundreds of miles away from their Boston home.    “I think
difficult puts it a bit too mildly, bud,” Devil grunted, shaking his head as he
frowned at the man he’d hired almost five years ago.  “I met those folks that
claim you as a son for thirty minutes over a decade ago and even I can call it
like it is.  Your parents are a pair of the biggest blue-blooded bigots on the
Eastern Seaboard.”

“Jesus, Dev! 
That’s a little harsh,” Grant winced, shooting a shocked look toward his
friend.

“No,” Nick
denied.  “Devil pretty much nailed it.  They’re that horrible.  That’s one of
the biggest reasons I had for avoiding them the last several years.  I mean, I
knew I was gay back in college, but I never met someone that I could imagine a
future with until I met Armando.  Finding him was like finding the missing
piece of myself, you know?”

“Okay,” Devil
muttered, “I
do
know, but you’re flirting perilously close to a chick
conversation now…let’s dial it back a bit.”

Nick glared
at his boss.  “God forbid we have a sensitive, meaningful conversation about
our feelings.”

“Amen to
that,” Devil grunted as their waitress returned to their table with another
round of drinks.  Barely offering her a dismissive nod when she smiled
flirtatiously at all of them before sashaying away, he growled, “Continue.”

“I guess
after Armando and I got serious I never wanted to inflict my uptight family on
him.  He’s already been through so much with his own relatives.  I mean, my
God, they disowned him when he came out to them.  I’ve seen his face when he
speaks about that time in his life.  I didn’t want to put him through it with
me.  For God’s sake, my parents remember they have a son exactly twice a year: 
when they send me a card with a check at Christmas and when my mother makes her
obligatory phone call the week of my birthday.  I don’t know why the hell she’s
calling early this year.  My birthday is still a little over two weeks away. 
It was just bad luck that Mannie ever picked up that phone with her on the
other end.”

“Or, maybe it
was fate all along,” Grant suggested. 

“How so?”
Nick questioned sharply.

“Christ,
Nick, did you think you could hide your parents from Mannie forever or vice
versa?  How the fuck did you plan to keep a 6’2” Latin man that favors the
colors of fuchsia and turquoise in his wardrobe choices under wraps
indefinitely? ” Devil asked drolly.  “This was bound to happen.  Christ, I’m
not sure how it didn’t happen sooner.  Bottom line:  Armando assumes you were
ashamed of
him
.  The idea that you were ashamed of your own family
hasn’t crossed his mind.”

“No,” Nick
denied, automatically shaking his head.  “I could
never
be ashamed of a
man whose soul is as beautiful as Armando’s.  Not ever.”

“Those are pretty
words, Nick, but I think you’re gonna need to back ‘em up with some fairly
strong actions,” Devil retorted, focusing his icy blue eyes on his employee and
friend.  “You didn’t see your fiancé last night, kid.  Mannie was crushed.  You
weren’t around when I almost lost my Molly before our own wedding, but I gotta
say, in ways it felt like déjà vu to me.  That look of agony.  The tears.  Your
guy was convinced that it was
him
that you were embarrassed by.  He
believes that you think he’s defective in some way and that’s why you hid him
from your folks,” he added quietly, hating the look of intense pain that
crossed Nick’s face.  He hated to see good people get crapped on.  And Nick and
Mannie might be a pain in his ass, but they were good people, too. 

“Fuck, man. 
I knew it was bad, but this shit is fucking tragic,” Grant whispered, averting
his gaze from Nick and lowering it to stare at the scarred tabletop.

“What am I
going to do?  Oh, God, how the hell am I going to fix this?” Nick whispered
forlornly, his voice faint, but shaky as he stared into space.  “I can’t lose
Armando.  No one has ever understood me the way he does.  Nobody has ever even
tried
. 
He’s my lover, yeah, but that’s the least of what he is.  He’s also my best
friend and biggest fan.  I can’t not have him in my life.  It would be like
trying to live without my heart.  A person can’t exist without a heart, Devil.”

“Listen, I
know it’s tough, but I sort of know what you’re going through here.  When I
almost lost Molly just before we were married to a stupid, fucked up
misunderstanding, I felt like all the oxygen had been sucked off the planet.  The
scope of my world narrowed to one singular objective.  To get her back…. And
that meant doing whatever I had to do to get her back in my arms where her ass
belonged.  Everything that I thought ever meant anything at all to me lost all
meaning.  Everything else in my world
paled
in comparison to what she
meant to me.   There was no time to lose whimpering about how much I’d fucked up. 
I
knew
how much I’d fucked up.  Crying about it was a waste of my
valuable time.  No, the only thing I could focus on was doing whatever I had to
do to get Molly back.”