Unobtainable (5 page)

~Dyson~

Friday was
the
longest day in existence. It was a slow agonizing wait as I watched it drag by. I thought five o’clock would never come. I caught only one fleeting glimpse of Harley in the form of a quick good morning in the lunchroom, I could kick myself for hurrying off but I didn’t expect him to be in there, his presence took me by surprise. I could be such a dork sometimes. He dashed past my door on his way to the Friday afternoon wrap-up meeting, I wish he had stopped, even just to say hello. The wrap-up weekly meeting was to determine what took priority Monday morning and designate the boardroom for meetings since we only had one. I was not invited, no one put the accounting department on the priority list, unless there was some kind of monetary bonus due and then I was invited.

The more I thought about what Harley had said, the more I was convinced that as much as I loved them, my brothers were a bunch of narcissistic douchebags. My best interest was the farthest thing from their minds. I had this sick feeling deep in the pit of my stomach that they would be happy if I simply evaporated into thin air, or if I could be brushed off of their suit jackets like a ball of worthless lint and tossed into the trash. I hated to think that my brothers were homophobic dicks, but I had to wonder with the way they were acting towards me and this fucked up mess with my grandfather’s Will.

As ridiculous as it sounded, I joined a matchmaking site on the internet, one of those I’m a desperate loser sites. I left only my prominent details, who I was, didn’t give away too much. In the get to know me better section, I wrote ‘Marry me on July 18th’. I was pathetic. Obviously there were no takers, I couldn’t even muster the effort to laugh at myself.

Anyway, I looked at my watch and grinned happily. It was five on the dot. I set my computer to save and waited while it performed its magic. I changed out of my suit into a pair of comfortable jeans, a polo shirt and snatched my Harley Davidson jacket from the back of the door. A total coincidence that my favorite leather jacket had a
Harley
logo across the back.

I walked out to our reception area discovering the place was barren, I was left as usual to secure everything and lock up for the night, what would they do without me? Maybe they’d find out sooner than later if I didn’t find a willing victim. I had quite the dilemma to deal with, caught between a rock and a hard place, desperation being my new middle name. Perhaps it fit better as my new first name, I laughed at myself, Desperate Dyson Michaels, yeah that worked.

I shook away my thoughts, zipped up my jacket and tucked my hands into my pockets as I walked the few blocks alone. There was a definite nip in the air.

Chances
was packed, as usual, being as it was a Friday night. With barely enough room to breathe let alone a seat to sit on, I crushed through the crowd. Although it was like crushing my way through a can of sardines, one person stood out and caught my eye as I stared straight ahead, Harley.

The man knew how to dress. He was still in his dark gray suit with a flashy baby blue Giorgio Armani tie hanging loose around his neck. He was the only man I knew who could get away with wearing a signature tie and not be placed in the category of superficial snob.

He flashed me an award winning smile and waved his hand in the air, just as I was shoved to the side like one of the herd going to slaughter. The more I tried to resist the farther away I was swallowed up into the crowd, until I finally relinquished and sat in the farthest corner booth, accepting an offered mug of beer from a pitcher Clair and her friends were sharing. Clair was our receptionist and my very good friend. On many occasions Clair and I hung out together, went to see movies and frequented the casino quite a bit. When we were both lonely, we were each other’s go to.

We had a pleasant conversation as I slugged back more beer than I should have on an empty stomach, and Clair told me how she was spending her holidays in Fiji with her new boyfriend. We had trailed bars together, on our mission to find Clair Bear the perfect man. Apparently, from the way she was talking, she had found him all on her own.

As I listened to her rant on about this new beau practically falling into her lap, I couldn’t help being a tad jealous, men didn’t fall so easily into my lap and the ones that did usually ended up being real winners with one thing on their minds. Hell, I hadn’t been looking for long term commitment, but it would have been nice to speak a full sentence before they dove right in with the request to step into a quiet corner somewhere for a quick one off. I was beginning to feel like a neon sign was blinking
loser
over my head the longer I listened to Clair drone on.

I decided before I ended up completely toasted and unable to remember my own name, that I was going to find the nearest exit and go home, my chances of getting anywhere close to Harley were slim to none. Maybe I could find a few more dating sites and since I was glowing and had a belly full of liquid courage burning in me, I’d bravely ask for something I really wanted, someone to love me, even if for a few short months, days and hours.

I said my goodbyes to Clair, her friend Connie, and her new boyfriend what’s-his-face before I headed to the back exit five feet away. My hand clasped the release bar and just as I pushed, a hand yanked it closed again. I turned to give the asshole holding me back shit, to find Harley’s handsome face smiling into mine. My creased brow relaxed as a smile spread over my heated face

“Not leaving yet, are you?” he asked, close enough I could smell sweet whiskey on his breath. “You can’t leave without having a drink with me first.”

“You bought lunch yesterday,” I reminded him. “Let me buy you a drink.”

“But it’s Chivas night,” he announced, with a tipsy laugh, making me want to sink to my knees and unzip his fly. “On Chivas night we go big or we go home.”

“Only the best,” I smirked at his expensive whiskey of choice, “I’m in.

Of course I was in, I wasn’t about to walk out the door and leave my spicy god to his own devices, god only knew who’s bed he would end up in if I did.

“Keys,” he demanded, holding out his open palm. “On Chivas night, the only one allowed to drive is a guy named Bubba with a big yellow checkered sedan.”

I reached into my pocket and held out my keys, snatching them back just as fast. “I’ll need those back to get into my apartment later.”

“Don’t worry,” Harley said. “I’ll take care of you.”

Mmm…there was more than one way I could take that, I was wishing for the cozier one that involved two bodies being tangled together between bed sheets.

I followed him to the bar without question. It was like he was all-powerful as the crowd parted like the Red Sea as we walked to the bar. Harley tapped the edge of his glass and Andy the bartender filled it, placing a glass in front of me and filling it to the brim with golden liquid. He placed the bottle on the bar and nodded.

“I’ll get these,” I told Andy, who looked to Harley, flicked his brow and then walked away.

“It’s taken care of,” Harley shrugged.

“Next round then,” I said, as Harley tapped his glass to mine and shot it back.

“Paid,” he said. “Once the bottles cracked, it’s cracked. Like I said, go big or go home. So drink up, I got a few on you.”

Harley Cooper was suave indeed. He had an air of sureness that poured from him like molten chocolate, he was my delectable craving. I licked my lips just thinking about eating him up. He drew attention from everyone, men and women alike and no one passed him by without a greeting or a hand shake, a touch or some kind of contact. To call him popular would have been a grave understatement. I wasn’t sure if I should have the nerve to be jealous but I was feeling it, we were nothing more than colleagues and casual acquaintances, though I would have given my right nut for more. I was still unsure of his sexual proclivity, I only had my suspicions. He interacted equally with women and men, paid them all special attention, it was hard to tell if he had a preference. Maybe he was bi-sexual.

There was nothing characteristically flamboyant or ostentatious about Harley that would suggest in any way that he was gay, it was just a feeling I got when he was close. Call me crazy, perhaps I was so into him that my imagination was playing games with my head and heart. Asking him wasn’t going to happen anytime soon either, I figured if and when he wanted me to know, he’d find a way of telling me.

Conversation was kept mainly to business as Harley talked about contract negotiations he was in hot pursuit of. The more I drank, the more I was fascinated by anything he said. He could have been talking about the contents of the dumpsters out back of the pub and he would have had me absolutely enthralled. I was elated with his attention, he seemed to be concentrating all of it on me, and I couldn’t have been more content.

The bartender poured the last of the bottle equally between our glasses and Harley raised his glass gesturing a toast. “To…empty bottles and good friends.”

Friends, there was a word I wasn’t interested in hearing, but I tapped my glass to his and tried to smile.

“Friends,” I repeated.

“I don’t know about you,” Harley laughed, “but I think I’m sloshed.”

I looked up at the ceiling with instant regret as I staggered back and Harley grabbed hold of the front of my jacket yanking me forward.

“Yep, and I’m plastered.”

We laughed as we staggered to the door while Harley assured me he lived right around the corner, within walking distance he said. For some reason when you’re inebriated, time and space seem to totally evaporate. Before I knew it, I was standing looking around a spacious two story loft style apartment as Harley helped me from my jacket and then my shoes.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, shrugging off his jacket and letting it drop to the floor.

“What you got?”

“I don’t know let’s have a look, the kitchen’s this way,” Harley said, escorting me by my shirttail. “We could always order something if you like, pizza?”

“Don’t go out of your way for me, I’m cool with whatever you got.”

Holy stainless steel, Harley’s kitchen looked like the front cover of dream kitchen magazine. The cabinets were shiny smooth stainless and the backsplash was a mix of tiny mosaic tiles in multiple shades of grey, black and white. The base of the island had a checker plate pattern with a black granite countertop, complete with a cooktop and sink. It was amazing and suited Harley’s style to a tee.

Opening each cabinet door revealed nothing but a few boxes of cereal. I wouldn’t have taken Harley for the takeout kind of guy. He was in great shape from what I could tell seeing him in a suit. He took a large wooden bowl from under the island and poured in cereal from two boxes, then fetched two bottles of beer from the fridge, handing me one.

“May as well get comfortable,” he said, as I followed him over to the couch. “You’re staying the night.”

“Am I?” I asked, dropping my ass onto the cold leather couch.

“Uh huh,” he said, reaching his arms over his head and pulling off his shirt, leaving his tie hanging around his neck.

“Whoa,” I sighed, not realizing I had said it out loud until Harley started laughing, sliding his belt from his pants, dropping it on the large overstuffed chair.

“Want to borrow a pair of sweats and a T or something?” he asked, letting his pants slide down his legs landing in a heap at his feet, kicking out of them.

“Um…I…uh sure,” the bumbling lunatic was back, but this time with enough liquid courage to sink a battleship. “You work out often? You look fucking hot.”

“Every day if I can,” he smiled, running his hand up and down his abs. “Have some cereal, I’ll get those sweats.”

As he walked away towards what I presumed to be his bedroom, I blatantly checked him out. That bubble butt that I enjoyed watching at the office was gloriously wrapped in a pair of tight fitting briefs, I couldn’t help noticing the dimples on his lower back just above a waistband with the word Pump highlighted teasingly.

I licked across my lips and adjusted myself. I was far too drunk to don a boner, well not a boner that was of any use anyway, but I definitely had a partial chub on.

Harley was wearing basketball shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt when he returned and tossed the same my way.

“Where can I change?” I asked, starting to laugh as I tried to stand on my jelly legs. “Fuck it.”

I had my polo shirt off and was trying desperately to wriggle from my jeans when Harley placed his hand on my forehead shoving me into the back of the couch. He grabbed the cuffs of my jeans and yanked them off tossing them onto the chair, the spare change in my pocket scattering across the hardwood floor.

“Need help with the shorts?” he laughed, which was contagious since we were still very much three sheets to the wind. He dropped onto the couch beside me in fits of laughter.

“Fuck the shorts, it’s not like I’m sitting here buck naked, but I do need a shirt I’m cold.”

I struggled into the t-shirt Harley gave me, prompting him to laugh more. Not only was it on backwards, I had managed to put it on inside out, not that I cared for a minute. I held the collar to my nose and sniffed in Harley’s scent.

“Here,” Harley said, grabbing the bowl of cereal from the table as we sat back, totally spent from our clothing escapade. “A little Captain Crunch and Lucky Charms should help with the hangover.”