Bad Company (12 page)

“My front’s hot. My back’s cold.” Kellan waited to see if Nate would roll away and tell him to find a blanket or put a shirt on, but Nate simply dragged the sheet from their hips to their shoulders and didn’t say another word.

The bakery job wasn’t much fun, but Kellan didn’t deliberately mess with the batter to get himself fired. The thing was, he’d heard a woman out front complaining about the height of the sheet cake she’d picked up for her son’s confirmation. So he did a little math and decided an extra half a cup of baking powder in the batter would give the bakery the fluffiest, tallest cakes in the city. And maybe he’d be a hero.

But the batter tasted funny, kind of metallic, after that, so Kellan put in more vanilla, and then more sugar, and then it looked too syrupy so he added a few more eggs. Now it looked the same and didn’t taste all that strange so it would probably be all right. He wasn’t sure how much of everything he’d added at the end, but he knew he could repeat the success when the baker asked him about it.

He filled the sheet pans exactly to the right line and shoved them in the ovens.

If it had only been the five sheet cakes, they might not have fired him. And probably wouldn’t have said all that stuff in Hungarian or Polish or whatever it was they’d chased him off with. But Kellan’s special cakes had exploded in the ovens, their dramatic death also obliterating six pies, eight trays of cookies and twelve nut-bread loaves. The smell was indescribable.

They didn’t offer to mail him a check.

It was only seven when he walked to the bus stop. Most people hadn’t even gotten up for work yet, and Kellan had already lost his second job.

The bus doors hissed open, but the driver put up his hand to tell Kellan to wait. The bus tipped toward the sidewalk and a tiny old man with a cane made his laborious way down the stairs. Kellan wanted to help him, hell, he probably could have picked him up and carried him down the block, but the man seemed very intent on his shuffling path. A gust of wind made him tip a bit as he stepped onto the sidewalk, and the backpack he was carrying slid sideways. Kellan managed to save the man from falling, but the backpack went into the gutter under the bus. As Kellan retrieved it, the bus pulled away from the sidewalk.

It seemed like such a perfect exclamation point on his shitastic day that Kellan didn’t bother to curse the driver out.

“That wasn’t very nice,” the old man said.

“Hey, man, I was only trying to help you.”

“No, the bus driver.”

Kellan was about to hand the backpack to the man, but wow, the sucker was heavy. “Jeez, dude, what you got in here?”

“Coffee, for one thing. The stuff at the center tastes like piss.”

If the man hadn’t been so tiny and old, Kellan would have accompanied his laugh with a slap on the guy’s back.

“What center? I’ll carry this for you.”

The man pointed up the side street to where a sign read Barclay Center Rehabilitation Services. Since the old dude didn’t look like one of those teen actresses strung out on coke, it must have been some other kind of rehab.

“Thanks, son. I’m Frank.” He offered a soft, wrinkled hand.

Kellan shook it, offering his own name in return.

“Let’s go, Colin.”

Kellan shrugged and followed Frank. He was forced to take halting baby steps so as to not rush by him and spent the walk asking Frank what else was in his backpack.

“Cookies. Books. A spare pair of glasses. Change of pants.”

“Whoa, man. How long are you going for?”

“Just the day. Hate to be unprepared. That philosophy has taken care of me for ninety-two years, and I’m not changing it now.”

“Ninety-two? Wow.”

“There’s no secret to it, son. You get up every morning then life happens to you. You just have to have the right stuff to get through it.”

“Yeah. Things do seem to happen to me a lot.”

“Hmph. You smell like burnt cinnamon toast.”

“That would be one of the things.”

The woman at the front desk greeted Frank warmly and smiled at Kellan.

“Who’s your friend today, Frank?”

“Colin, say hello to Miss B.”

“Hello, Miss B.”

Frank stepped into a room labeled Adult Day Care. No one seemed to mind, so Kellan followed him in.

“What are your plans today, Colin?” Frank eased himself into a chair at one of the tables.

“Didn’t really have any. I just got fired.”

“Good. No point going through life smelling like burnt cinnamon toast. Have a seat. Mary’s never here on Wednesdays. She has a group that goes to a casino.”

Adult Day Care. Kellan had a feeling Nate would think it was a perfect place for Kellan to be—with or without getting all the facts about his experiments at the bakery. It sure beat having to go back to Nate’s hot and tiny apartment.

The place filled up, and at eight they started bringing around some breakfast trays. Frank poked at his French toast, then shared his coffee from his thermos and one of the cookies from his bag with Kellan. After breakfast, someone led a crafts class, making frames with dried flowers or pieces of old jewelry. Frank’s fingers were still pretty nimble, so Kellan walked around and helped some of the other old people, picking up glue sticks that rolled away, pressing the decorations onto the cardboard.

Some of the people smelled a little funky, but it still beat working in the back at the bakery. People talked to him and smiled at him, and one old lady pinched his cheeks. When he came back, Frank told Kellan to stick around until they played cards at three o’clock, threatening to clean out Kellan’s pockets at pinochle. That wouldn’t take much. Kellan had enough for bus fare and an off-brand soda on him.

After lunch, a guy came in with a bunch of instrument cases. The singalong really perked up the crowd. The guy was better at keyboards, but he used the guitar occasionally. While he was leading “Take Me Out to the Ballgame”, Kellan waited for a nod before picking up the man’s guitar and strumming along. He threw in a “Shave and a Haircut” at the end and got a lot of laughs.

The music guy asked if Kellan could play Elvis’s “Hound Dog” and they got everyone clapping. Kellan walked around the tables, winking, flinging his head back and doing some tame hip shaking.

Kellan couldn’t wait to share his news with Nate, but the apartment was empty. Nate should have been home already, his late night had been Tuesday, the night they sent the paper off to the printer. Kellan plucked Nate’s guitar out of the closet, and when the soft strumming made Yin come to sit next to him and purr along, Kellan told her about it.

“Guess what? And I did it all by myself. What’s that? I got myself a good job.”

“What kind of job?”

Kellan looked up to see Nate shut the door and kick off his shoes.

“Playing the guitar.”

“On street corners?”

“No, at rehab centers. This guy put me in touch with a recreational therapist. And their usual guitarist needs the other kind of rehab, so I’m going to be going around the city to play for people in old folks’ homes and trauma rehab centers and stuff like that.”

Nate looking that surprised made Kellan wish he’d stuck to simply telling Yin about it. Provided he rubbed her belly and kept her bowl full, she didn’t think he was too much of an incompetent moron to find his own job.

“Sounds good. Good for you.”

Kellan couldn’t figure out why it didn’t sound good for Nate. “I get picked up at nine in the morning, so you don’t have to worry about bus fare or anything.”

“What about the bakery? Did you give notice?”

“Kind of.”

Nate waited.

“I got fired. I was only trying to help.”

Nate smiled, like the idea of Kellan screwing up restored the world to the way it ought to be.

“I feel like going out to eat. You want to celebrate your new job?” Nate pulled off his boots and headed for the shower.

“Do you eat in places that serve meat?”

“Sometimes.”

“I’m in. I’ve got a twenty from the guy I worked with today.”

“Keep it. It’s on me.”

Chapter Fourteen

At first Nate didn’t know why Kellan’s new job irritated him so much, but when his newfound skill at repression wore off, Nate figured it out. It only took a week to get used to having Kellan back in his life. As time went on, it became frighteningly close to one of Nate’s preteen dreams of their future together, living together, sleeping together, with the scary sex stuff fuzzed out like bad reception. Now if Kellan didn’t need Nate’s help anymore, his friend would disappear, just when Nate remembered how much fun he was to be around.

It wasn’t just their shared history either. Over the next month, Kellan gave such sexy and funny guitar lessons that Nate not only managed to get the F chord but A minor and two other barre chords with Kellan’s patient help. Nate was getting used to having someone there besides Quan Yin to talk to when he came home.

He wasn’t completely unaware of Kellan’s pretend-to-be-sleeping cuddling either. After all, it was the most tried and true minimal rejection path to finding out if he was into you too, though what Kellan thought he was finding out Nate didn’t know. He did know that for once in his life he’d decided to simply enjoy something because it felt good. And it did. Kellan played with Nate’s hair, stroked the skin behind his ear, and rested a solid, heavy warmth on his shoulder, chest or back. It would have to have been a lot hotter in the apartment for Nate to shove Kellan away at night.

That month was a perfect amount of time to really get used to having Kellan there, and then Nate came home to the news that Geoffrey Brooks had sent his driver to pick up his son.

“Shep was waiting at the corner telling me my father wanted to see me. He actually expected me to get in the car just like that because the great Geoffrey demanded an audience.”

Resisting the urge to throw his keys and a fist into the wall, Nate gently put them both into the bowl on the ledge. “What did you tell him?”

“I told him I had plans. Shep had to get on the phone and arrange a meeting. He’s picking me up at five thirty tomorrow.”

“In the morning?” When his chest squeezed tight, Nate had the horrible realization that not only had he mastered repression, but had achieved the absolute cliché of having his heart skip a beat at terrible news.

“No. I’m not getting up that early for Geoffrey, and we’re hitting three centers tomorrow, including Marisol’s.”

Kellan had told him all about the teenager who had lost a big chunk of her brain in a car accident. She could walk and recognize people, but a huge part of her memory was gone, and so far she could only sing to communicate. Kellan and the music therapist worked extra hours with her and her family.

“Right.” But after that? Kellan’s stunt of playing gay might not have brought Geoffrey to his knees the way Kellan had hoped, but Geoffrey was too smart a man not to see the changes this month had made in his son. Kellan would be going back to his old life. What had Nate told Jess in that interview almost a month ago?
I only want him to be happy
. It was still the truth. No matter what, Nate was glad of the chance to have fixed up their friendship.

“So, are you coming in or going back out?”

“Huh?” Nate looked down to where his hand was still clenched around the keys in the bowl. “Yeah. Let’s go out. The place across from J.J.’s has the best burgers in town.”

“And I’m supposed to take your vegetarian word for that?” Kellan followed him down the stairs.

“Hey, I might be a vegetarian, but I know my meat.” Nate turned and forced a wink.

“Holy shit, Nate. You made a dirty joke. Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m weak with hunger. Let’s ride.”

Kellan watched from five steps up as Nate dragged out the scooter. The way Kellan’s stare moved over him made Nate feel like he was actually wearing the leather jacket and boots that went with that kind of statement.

Kellan nodded as if he liked what he saw. “I have got to get you an actual bike.”

And that sealed it. No matter what Kellan might say about it, when his father offered, Kellan was going back to the life where he could buy someone a Vespa or a Kawasaki crotch rocket as easily as buying someone a coffee.

One thing about Kellan never changed. He flirted with everyone, male or female, from the cute busboy who brought them drinks, to the waitress who took their orders, to Nate. Maybe because Nate knew the game was over, he let himself flirt back.

He ordered a veggie burger covered in cheese and toppings, letting the sauce drip down to his wrist so he could lick it off while looking up at Kellan. When Kellan smiled with ketchup at the corner of his mouth, Nate leaned over close enough to lick it but only wiped it with his thumb.

It might have been wishful thinking, but Kellan’s voice sounded a little hoarse when he said, “If you deep throat the pickle, I think half the guys in here are going to ask for your number.”

“And the other half will wish they did.”

“Wow.” Kellan took a gulp out of Nate’s glass. “I had to be sure you were only drinking club soda. What happens when you really cut loose?”

“Guess you’ll have to keep wondering.”

“You think so?” Kellan put a French fry in his mouth and pulled it out, slowly sucking off the ketchup.

Nate used a hand on his thigh to tug his inseam off his suddenly too-sensitive dick.

Kellan grinned like he knew exactly what Nate was doing. Nate licked his lips and was treated to the sight of Kellan’s green eyes getting darker as the pupils widened.

“I think I know what I want for dessert,” Nate said, stealing a fry from Kellan’s plate.

When Kellan leaned forward, Nate told himself Kellan was covering his own need to adjust the pressure inside his jeans. “I thought since you ordered a salad instead of fries you’d be too worried about working it off to have dessert.”

“Lots of ways to work it off. Even this late.”

“Yeah, like what?” Kellan moved closer.

“I don’t know.” Nate sat back. “Going for a walk. Dancing.” He was the one who got to wear the smirk this time.

“How come we’ve never gone out to any of the bars?” Kellan sat back as the waitress came to clear their dishes. “Afraid some hunky piece of ass will steal me away?”