Trouble & the Wallflower (4 page)

Gavin smiled fondly at his grandfather. He was once a tall, burly guy, but after a bout with cancer, he was smaller but still had that strong personality.

Ray caught his grandson looking at him and harrumphed. “Stop writing my eulogy in your head, boy, and divvy up that whiskey.”

Gavin sighed again but did as he was told.

They sipped their drinks for a minute before Ray decided to break out his deck of playing cards, announcing, “Rummy.” He started dealing out the cards. This was what they spent most of their free time doing. Whiskey and cards. Sometimes just them, sometimes Ray’s friends. His group of buddies were all retired cops who’d worked together in the Seattle PD over the last forty years. They were a wild crew, and they all spoiled Gavin. He knew he was lucky. When shit hit the fan back home in Maine, his grandfather hadn’t batted an eyelash before he’d told him to hightail it to the West Coast.

They played two hands that Ray won, of course, and went through about three rocks glasses apiece before Gavin finally spoke.

“Am I like her?” It was a quiet question.

Ray dropped his cards and looked at Gavin as though he’d asked the dumbest question he’d ever heard. “Boy, on your worst day you’re better than she ever was on her best. What makes you think something so foolish?”

“I think I messed something up. Something that didn’t exist yet, but something that could have been real.”

“Thinking with your pecker got you in a bind, huh?”

Gavin thought there was a better way to say it but had to concede. “Pretty much.”

“Well, is it worth keeping it in your pants and trying again?”

Gavin remembered seeing through the store window the shy smile Davy had given that little girl the other day, and turned over all the reasons it’d be stupid to put all his chips on such an uncertain bet. “I don’t know. Like I said, we didn’t have anything at all. I’ve been flirting, he’s been telling me to fuck off.”

Ray chuckled. “Well, that’s the oldest story in the book. You want what you can’t have. Again, is it worth it? Does it hurt your heart or does it hurt your balls?”

Gavin choked on the whiskey he’d been sipping. Fuck if that didn’t burn his throat. “Fuck!” he rasped. Ray laughed a belly laugh, and through the burn of the whiskey Gavin still felt that warm laugh down into his soul. He didn’t know what he’d do without the old bastard, and he said as much.

“You’d never win a hand of poker in your life.” Ray started dealing cards again. “Way I see it, you’ve used that thing between your legs enough to know the difference in whether you’re wanting with it or wanting with that thing beating in your scrawny chest.”

Gavin stewed on that. He pulled out his memories of Davy and played them over in his head. The smiles, the banter, the blushes. Yeah. He barely knew Soda Shop Boy, but something about Davy was different. Or maybe he just needed a good roll in the sack with the guy.

“Lord, boy, stop your drooling and play cards. Shameless.”

Gavin gave his cockiest grin and pointed at Ray with his cards. “I learned from the best.”

Ray gave a sniff that was much daintier than a man of his gruff nature should be able to muster. “It’s your go. Lay down a damn card.”

Gavin did as he was told but never stopped smiling.

G
AVIN
HAD
been so lost in thought he didn’t hear Sean’s approach, so the fingers snapping in his face to get his attention almost got broken when he gripped them and jerked the offender to the ground. When he realized the person blinking up at him with owlish eyes was his best friend, he grimaced. “Oh shit, dude. I’m so sorry.” He offered his hand to help Sean up, but Sean swatted it away.

Sean scowled while he dusted himself off. “Well, I see you’re in a good mood today,” Sean said.

Gavin, feeling sufficiently chastened, held out the coffee he’d picked up for his friend, using it now as a peace offering. “Sorry. I was a million miles away.”

“No shit,” Sean groused as he headed toward one of the benches.

Gavin hated to leave his perch overlooking Elliot Bay. The park was teeming with tourists. It was a beautiful spring day boasting a rare eighty degrees and a clear sky. Losing himself staring out over the sparkling water of the sound had been a rare moment of peace. His thoughts hadn’t turned maudlin. He was ashamed to say that more often than not he was throwing a pity party for himself these days. He hated it. That wasn’t him.

“Yo, Gav. You in there?” Sean was looking at him expectantly.

He hadn’t realized he’d wandered off in his mind again.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” He followed Sean’s lead and took a seat on an empty bench by a group of homeless people who were passing around a bottle of booze and stretching out in the sun like lounging house cats with a communal bowl of cream.

“I asked how your gramps is doing. You said he had an appointment with his doctor today.”

Gavin watched a toothless woman take a long pull from the bottle of cheap vodka she was sharing with her disenfranchised crew. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Sean, not wanting to see any pity in his expression. Sean had been around through the lengthy battle Ray had waged against his pancreatic cancer.

“Oncologist again. He wouldn’t let me go.” Gavin knew his expression was probably bitter, but he was annoyed that he’d been banned from the appointment. “Now that he’s finished radiation, they’re gonna tell him what the latest tests have to say. We’ll know where we stand after this.”

“You know he wants you there. He’s just trying to protect you from all this crap.”

“It’s hard, but he’s all I’ve got. I wanna know what we’re up against.”

“Dude, that’s why he went alone. He knows if it’s bad news it’ll kill you. You’ve fought the whole way with him, so maybe he didn’t want this one to be your burden to bear too.” Sean patted Gavin’s shoulder.

Gavin appreciated what his friend was saying. He was just scared. Not that he’d ever admit that.

He shrugged Sean off and chugged the last of his coffee. “Wanna go to Bart’s with me after work?”

“You have no shame.”

“So I’ve heard.” He crushed his cup, balled it up, and tossed it like a basketball into the trash can across the path from their bench, sinking it in one shot. He threw a cocky smirk Sean’s way.

“You know I know you well enough to know you’re not the badass you think you are.” Sean just shook his head.

Yeah, Sean knew more than anyone that three-fourths of Gavin’s swagger was posturing against the world that had fucked him raw most of his life. But he was no victim. When he’d moved to Seattle four years earlier, he’d promised himself he was gonna fuck the world right back. He’d met Sean his first night at the gay bar. Sean had seen Gavin leaving the bathroom with the first of many conquests, laughed, and commented on how fucked up his hat hair was. That was when he’d lost his first beanie. He was pissed, and not just at being picked on. But Sean saw past the chip on his shoulder and ignored that. They’d gone out for pizza after that, and Sean introduced Gavin to his friends Nate, Mason, and Devon, and the rest was history. He’d lived it up and enjoyed school and hanging out with the guys when they weren’t working at the market. So far he’d made life his bitch.

Until that one day last year when Ray came home, pulled out the whiskey, and announced he had cancer. Inoperable. Gavin hated that word.

He couldn’t sit anymore, so he jumped up and walked back over to the rails where he’d been looking out over the flowing traffic on the Alaskan Way Viaduct and the glimmer of the sun off the water of the bay on the other side. In his peripheral vision, he saw Sean lean on the rail next to him, squinting his dark eyes against the sun. Gavin could appreciate how attractive Sean was with his fine Latino features. If Gavin was the dating type, he might even have found that Sean was the perfect boyfriend. He was a genuinely good guy. But Gavin wasn’t the dating type and he just couldn’t think of Sean that way.

“So you’re not throwing in the towel, huh?” Sean teased, obviously trying to lighten the mood. Good ol’ Sean.

“No way! That’s one Grade-A piece of ass. That’d be like the ’Hawks giving up on a chance at the Super Bowl.”

Sean laughed, and Gavin knew it was at him, not with him. Douche. “Gavin, man, maybe you should try just being the guy’s friend.” Gavin looked at him incredulously, but before he could respond, Sean threw his hands up to silence him. “I’m just sayin’. The guy seems to be short on friends. He was all alone at the club the other night. I saw him sitting in the booth by himself for a long time before I figured out it was him. That’s just sad, dude. Quiet as he is, it don’t surprise me, though.”

Gavin weighed this information for a moment, trying to think how he could best use it to his advantage. Sean punched him in the shoulder. “You’re such a dick, Gavin. I know exactly what you’re thinking, and it’s shitty.”

“You have no idea what I’m thinking.” Gavin rubbed his shoulder. That punch hurt, dammit.

“No? You’re not thinking you’ll try to be his friend then make your move when he’s all comfortable with you?”

Shit. Maybe Sean knew him too well. “The best sex happens among friends.” Gavin thought it sounded reasonable.

“You’re such an ass. And if you ever put the moves on me, I’ll break your dick off.”

Gavin had a good comeback for that, but before he could get it out, there was a commotion that got his and Sean’s attention. Some dickhead in a suit was yelling at a cute guy for bumping into him. As crowded as this part of town got it was just a part of life, and it looked like the cute guy had dropped his bag, his papers and books scattered everywhere. Sean mumbled something about the guy being an asshole just as it dawned on Gavin that the cute guy fumbling to pick up his scattered belongings while stammering apologies was Soda Shop Davy. He was moving toward the action, which was drawing more than a few stares, before he could stop himself. He may be a dick himself, but he’d never treat a stranger like that. Then the guy started kicking at Davy’s books and putting on some pathetic display he’d never have gotten away with if it had been any other guy on the street.

As Gavin bolted toward Davy and the guy, Sean called him back, but he had one objective. He snatched the weasel in the suit by his designer collar and reared back to hit the fucker in the mouth. Before he could let his fist fly, a hand gripped his bicep firmly. He snapped his head around and was face-to-face with Davy, who was shaking his head and saying, “No, Gavin. No, no, no.”

“This fucker giving you trouble, Davy?”

“Gavin, stop. It’s okay. I ran into him. It was just an accident.”

“Looked like he was fucking with you to me.” Gavin snarled in the weasel’s face. The guy was cowering, eyes wide with his hands in front of his face. Gavin had at least five inches on the asshole—hell, Davy did too, for that matter.

“Gav, c’mon, man. This is not worth it.” Sean put his hand on Gavin’s other shoulder.

Gavin breathed heavily for a moment and tried to get a grip. Why was he being so protective? He was acting as though he was standing up for his boyfriend. The word
mine
had tasted bad in his mouth as he ran to Davy’s defense. He just wanted to fuck Davy, not marry him.

He let the guy go with a hard shove that made Weasel Man drop his briefcase. “Learn some fucking manners, asshole!” He snarled at the guy again as the dude made a hasty retreat. There was a smattering of applause, but there were more people leaning in whispering to their friends and staring. There were also a few Asian tourists with large smiles and snapping cameras. He was apparently more interesting than the chick who’d painted her body in bronze and pretended to be a statue just ten feet from him. She looked at him as though he’d snatched a john from her.
Who gets mad at someone for doing a good deed?
“Get a real job, lady.” He flipped her off.

Behind him, Sean sounded exasperated with a “Nice, Gavin. Real nice.” But the chick just flipped him off right back and wandered off to greener pastures.

“You okay, Davy?” He squatted to help pick up the errant papers and books. A few had shoe prints from where Weasel Man had stepped on them. Gavin wanted to chase the douchebag down and beat his ass. It looked as though he’d damaged some textbooks, and Lord knew those weren’t cheap.

“Yeah. It was my fault.”

Davy was mumbling, so Gavin barely heard it, but when he figured out what Davy said, his hackles rose.

He grabbed Davy by the collar of his powder-blue polo shirt.
Damn, that color brings out his eyes. “
Get one thing straight, Davy. This is the market. People run into each other all the time. His fancy suit didn’t give him the right to talk down to you like that. So don’t let me hear you say it was your fault again. You had nothing to apologize for.”

Davy’s pupils dilated, and he licked his rosy bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. Gavin’s cock was very interested in seeing Davy do that again. Damn that kid for being so hot. And if Gavin wasn’t mistaken, Davy was just as affected by his close proximity. He quirked an eyebrow at Davy, then let him go and smoothed out his shirt for him.