Authors: Con Riley
T
HEO
decided that his office was a better place with the interns in it. Considering that, on paper at least, Joel and Evan shouldn’t have worked out, both kids were great additions to his team. Originally, they’d been scheduled to finish their internships at the end of October. Everyone was relieved when the Head Office agreed to employ them on temporary, part-time contracts until the end of the year.
That suited the kids just fine, he guessed, spying through his blinds as they opened their letters of confirmation. Joel jumped up, fist pumping wildly, making the office erupt into laughter. Whoever heard of someone so stoked at filing endless paperwork? Evan scrutinized the small print of his contract before raising his head. Theo smiled at the way the blond’s eyes slid across to meet Joel’s.
THEO: They are so sweet, it’s almost unbearable.
MORGAN: I bet they fuck over your desk as soon as you leave every day.
MORGAN: You should set up a webcam.
MORGAN: I could do that for you.
THEO: PERVERT.
THEO: They are just impossibly cute. J especially. He’s like the most adorable puppy on the planet.
MORGAN: I thought you liked E best?
THEO: I like them both. Honestly, the way they act at work is so sweet my teeth might just fall out.
MORGAN: And we’re back to my oral fixation….
It was true, though: The interns were helpful and polite to each other at work—completely professional. The signs were evident that the more space Joel put between them, the closer Evan inched toward him, seeking out his company. Theo was so glad he’d intervened. Given a little space, his smaller intern—the one who carried the heaviest load—was starting to enjoy himself.
“I wasn’t expecting to, but I kind of like working through a list and getting shit done.” Theo shook his head at Evan’s language. He apologized quickly, saying, “Sorry, sorry. You know what I mean though, right?”
Theo did know exactly what Evan meant. He’d tried to explain his satisfaction at work to some of their friends over the years. Lots of people had a weird—to Theo, anyway—fear of numbers. He just loved them. Plowing through accounts was challenging, as was creating order out of chaos for clients. If he could figure out an easier, more logical way for them to achieve their objectives, then he considered his work valuable.
Some of his friends had graduated from college the same year and were now flying high in their own particular fields. Theo’s lack of ambition baffled them, but he had never needed to chase glory. He had that at home. That’s how he used to feel, anyway. Coming home to Ben’s tetchy eye roll if he had to lean against the buzzer was everything he needed. If life was a competition, he’d won the moment Ben pulled off his motorcycle helmet all those years ago in Milan, saying
ciao
. He was pretty sure that his focus on the rest of the world shifted at that moment, narrowing until Ben took up his entire lens.
Their life rolled on—parties, vacations, long afternoons in bed—and he simply didn’t need anything else to feel like a winner. Give Theo a column of numbers that added up and a warm Italian to rub his back and cook his dinner, and he was pretty much set for anything. So he nodded at Evan, agreeing that yeah, sometimes the simple pleasures really were the best.
“But you can find the same satisfaction in your own field, Evan. Don’t let the numbers here seduce you if they aren’t your first love.” Without his counterbalance at home, even Theo found work somewhat lacking lately. He talked it out with Morgan.
THEO: I don’t know.
MORGAN: What now, Theo?
MORGAN: Are we going to spend the whole night talking about you again?
MORGAN: Hang on a minute.
THEO: What are you doing?
MORGAN: Loading up some porn. You carry on whining. I’ll catch up later.
THEO: What kind of porn?
MORGAN: The gay kind. What else?
THEO: I was just thinking about work. Maybe it’s time for a change.
MORGAN: Really? How will the world continue turning without your tight grip on the economy?
THEO: I thought you were watching porn.
MORGAN: It’s not that interesting. They’re too young for my taste. You might like it, though. Little blond dude and a tall dark-haired kid….
THEO: Ha. Ha. Ha.
MORGAN: How long have you worked there?
THEO: Nearly fifteen years.
MORGAN: Work isn’t the problem, then. If you’ve stuck it out for that long then it’s something else. You need to get out more.
THEO: And do what?
MORGAN: I don’t know. I’m not your fucking life coach. Go do something you wouldn’t normally do—rock climbing, shooting, ice skating—something fun.
MORGAN: Or watch porn. This is actually kind of hot. They’re very… flexible.
The following weekend Theo took Maggie’s oldest child to the Seattle Center. The Internet write-ups about their winter wonderland indoor ice skating made Theo think about his dad. He’d been so patient while Theo lost his shit the first time they skated. As a kid, Theo thought it would be easy, then spent the first half hour on his ass. His dad kept up picking him up, brushing him off, telling him to keep on trying.
Theo said the same words to Maggie’s daughter, over and over and over, hauling her back up and tickling her until she smiled again. Once she found her feet it was fun, and the fastest hour of Theo’s whole week. They sat together drinking hot chocolate once they were done skating, watching the faster skaters who came out onto the ice as it got a little later. Theo blinked and then smiled as he recognized his interns. Heather shot out onto the ice, laughing wildly as Joel chased her. Considering that he was all arms and legs, the man could really skate.
Searching the edges of the rink, Theo soon spotted Evan, hanging onto the rail, white face tight with tension. When a dude wearing a hoodie skated up to him, offering his hand, Evan smiled thankfully.
Theo almost growled. Maggie’s daughter giggled. He passed her a couple of dollars for the vending machine, standing so he could watch the interns a little more easily.
Evan half skated, half clung onto the man he was with, face tilted upward, listening and nodding as they crossed the ice. When Joel glided up to them—all huge smile and pink cheeks—the dude wearing the hoodie bowed with a flourish, pushing Evan toward him. As he watched the smaller man flail, Theo was sure he would fall.
Joel caught him, then braced his elbows, making a firm support for the novice. He skated backward while Evan hung on. Theo could read Joel’s lips.
“I’ve got you.”
Yeah, Theo thought, watching as Joel made slow turns around the ice, not talking, just grinning while Evan smiled up at him. “Yeah,” he said to Maggie’s girl. “I think he has him all right.”
She chewed her candy solemnly, then asked, “Who has you, Uncle Theo?”
He rolled his eyes, making her giggle before answering, “You, of course.”
They were just getting ready to leave, standing near the entrance to the rink, when Heather’s crazy laugh got louder. She came off the ice practically running, and the man with the hoodie hurtled after her. The sudden deceleration from slick ice to rubbery flooring threw him off balance, right into Theo.
Later, in bed, Theo remembered his breathless apology and the feel of the man’s hands flat against his chest as he’d pushed away, hood slipping down. If it wasn’t for the glint of silver around his neck, Theo would never have guessed he was the same man who helped Joel out at the shelter. He looked almost unrecognizable with his long hair cropped short, his face unmarked and pale instead of bruised so badly.
He caught a glimpse of huge dark eyes, and then the man was gone, following Heather, who hadn’t noticed Theo at all.
Yeah, it was only the flash of silver threads in the black and gray cashmere of the scarf he wore—Ben’s favorite—which reminded Theo that they’d crossed paths before.
He’d left that scarf at the shelter.
“
F
OR
heaven’s sake, Dad, get down from there.” Sometimes Theo wondered if his father purposefully waited until he knew Theo was on his way from the city before setting up his tallest ladder. In a way, he hoped that was true. The thought of his dad—always so capable, but now a little shaky—working on a ladder without him made him feel a little sick.
“Nearly done, son.” Theo tried to rein in his temper. Honestly, why he felt it flare up so easily with his father, when the man had done nothing but be patient with him all his fucking life, made Theo feel frustrated and confused. He was such a good man, such a great father. He shook his head at himself, trying not to let his frustration spill out with his words.
He could certainly think of better ways to spend the weekend. He wished that he were at home listening to music, stretched out on the huge couch Ben had insisted was just right for them—see,
tesoro
, it’s wide like a bed, and the leather is easy to wipe clean.
Perfetto
!—while he surfed the Internet.
Morgan had told him to get his shit together. Lots of people didn’t have parents to gripe about, so he should be fucking grateful to have family waiting at home for him. Theo knew that Morgan’s parents were gone, and he guessed if he and his friend were similar in age then he might not have that many years left with his parents either.
With a dry mouth and damp palms, Theo typed an invitation to Morgan, asking if he’d like to come with him to Big Lake.
MORGAN: What, and ruin our perfect relationship?
THEO: I’m just saying that you don’t have to be alone.
MORGAN: Thank you, Theo.
MORGAN: That means a lot to me. I do have somewhere to be this weekend, but maybe another time….
Theo had stared at the ceiling for a while, wondering what the fuck he was thinking. Everyone knew that the Internet was the Internet, while real life was real life. Robyn’s casual enquiry in his last e-mail—Hey, how are things working out with your Morgan?—only reinforced the way he was kidding himself.
The Internet and real life were two separate worlds.
Morgan wasn’t his.
It was just that he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him.
Morgan was in his head constantly. Even buying groceries now was complicated. He used to hate grocery shopping, recalling the way Ben would trail from store to store, tolerating it only because Ben’s company made everything better. Now he couldn’t shop without feeling guilty. If he went to a big store, he’d hear Morgan’s virtual whisper—They steal their employees’ rights—and find it hard to meet the eye of the person checking out his purchases. If he went to one of Ben’s specialty import stores he would second-guess each item he selected, mentally calculating air miles—Your carbon footprint must be huge, Theo.
Huge
—before going home with nothing to eat.
It was true, Theo admitted, as he stood at the bottom of his dad’s ladder. Morgan was always on his mind. The next time Theo came out to the lake house, he guessed they’d be putting up Christmas lights, and that made him think about Morgan too.
While his dad issued instructions and talked to him about his work, Theo’s head was full of Morgan arguing on the forum about the inherent waste created by Christmas lighting. Morgan chatted privately to Theo as they watched the argument spin out, attracting so many comments that Theo could hardly keep up with them all. Morgan had enjoyed the debate so much. Every time someone posted an opposing viewpoint, he’d rebut, stealing their thunder.
THEO: You know, Morgan, some people just like Christmas lights.
MORGAN: I know. I love them. When we were stationed back in the states my pops couldn’t wait to get all his shit out of storage. You could see our house from the fucking moon.
THEO: So why are you arguing against them on the forum?
MORGAN: Why not? Arguing is one of my favorite pastimes. That, jerking off, and talking to you are my top three.
MORGAN: Sometimes I do them all at once.
THEO: So jerking off is on your list but sex isn’t?
MORGAN: I’m just keeping it real, Theo. But…. If you’re offering….
Theo smiled, changing the subject, but somehow lately they kept coming back to sex talk. He guessed men never really changed. As teens, locker-room conversation always revolved around who was getting laid. He’d been more of an observer than a participant, guessing pretty early that his interest in some of the seniors getting changed wouldn’t be a popular topic of conversation.
Morgan wasn’t shy. He’d talk about anything and everything. If they ended their evenings together, tucked up in their beds while they chatted, sometimes the conversation made Theo throw back his covers. Morgan could make it hard to breathe.
MORGAN: Help me out here.
THEO: What’s up?
MORGAN: Don’t make me spell it out, Theo.
THEO: Oh.
MORGAN: Just talk dirty for a while.
THEO: Blue-sky thinking. Thought shower. Full spectrum leadership.
MORGAN: NOT corporate dirty. Sex dirty.
THEO: I wouldn’t know where to start.
Morgan was a relentless tease, encouraging Theo’s mind down a one-way street that left him half hard and aching inside before he’d back off, laughing, keeping things light. As the weeks passed, Theo found himself thinking about Morgan throughout the day, and his nighttime thoughts about the man seemed somewhat safer than dwelling on Peter. He couldn’t even replay the last time they were together without feeling his chest constrict—what Peter wanted from him still seemed impossible.
MORGAN: Just tell me what you like.
MORGAN: Go on.
MORGAN: If you won’t, I will.
THEO: Kissing.
MORGAN: YUM
THEO: I miss kissing. And running my fingers through someone’s hair, or underneath his shirt; I miss that too.
MORGAN: Touching.
THEO: Yeah, touching. Touching everywhere.
MORGAN: Anywhere.
THEO: I like a handful of ass and a neck to suck.
MORGAN: What about a dick?
THEO: I could be persuaded.
MORGAN: Damn, Theo.
Sometimes the temptation to ask Morgan for his cell number felt like an invisible rope around his insides, tugging at him. He remembered when Morgan walked him through selecting an app for his cell so they could chat while away from their computers. Theo asked then if it wouldn’t be easier to text each other instead. Morgan declined.