Authors: Sloan Parker
“And what's that?”
Fowler smirked.
I turned away and stormed out of the bar. I didn't look to see if he followed. There was no point. He and my father knew where I lived— and where I played.
Not for long.
In less than a week, I'd be playing and living at Richard's. If I was careful, they wouldn't find out for a while. Maybe long enough for me to get Matthew and Richard out of my system.
I staggered into my apartment and slammed the door closed. I headed straight for bed, and for the first time since I'd met Richard and Matthew, I didn't fight the images. I allowed myself to relive the moments of my nights with them— the touching, the kissing, the fucking, and even the talking.
Before I drifted off to sleep, I planned out several ways to get from my apartment to Richard's again without being followed. Neither Richard nor Matthew had asked for any problems. They didn't deserve to be fucked with in that way.
And if the need arose, my father would fuck with them in all the horrible ways he was capable of.
“You're moving in with them?”
The shock in Walter's voice confirmed he hadn't heard about my self-imposed, ill-conceived fate. Hearing someone else say the words aloud was worse than the repetition of it in my own mind.
I switched the phone to my other ear. “I think my brain melted. I guess that's what happens when you spend a night with the best fuck and the best suck you've ever had.”
“Three nights,” he said.
“Yeah. That's where I went wrong.”
“I wouldn't say you've gone wrong, Luke. I told you I think they'll be good for you. But I had no idea it would have progressed this far already.”
“I know. I mentioned needing a new place to live, and he asked me to stay for a few weeks. Then Matthew said he'd move in too. I don't know how it happened.”
“How long can you make this work?”
“You mean how long until my father finds out? Or how long until I mess it up?”
“I meant your father.”
“I don't know. Until I find a new apartment. I can't risk it for long.”
“Decent of him to offer. Surprising, though.”
“Yeah. I couldn't have hooked up with a guy who wanted to date for years before becoming exclusive, could I? No. I have to get with someone who not only asks me to keep it in my pants unless I'm with him and the kid but also wants me to move in with them.”
“He asked for exclusivity?”
“Oh, yeah. And I agreed. We'll be getting tests and everything.”
“You play it safe until you get those results, you hear?”
“I'm not an idiot. I won't be doing anything bare until I say it's okay. Forget any tests.”
“Good for you, but... don't hold back on everything. The sex is one thing. That's your physical safety. But the emotional shit— getting to know them. Open yourself to some of it. Don't make it all about the sex. It isn't why he asked you there.”
I knew that. And it had me reeling. If it was him being a nice guy and giving me a place to stay, or about a guaranteed, live-in fuck buddy, Richard's invitation wouldn't have concerned me, at least not as much. It was something else.
“Walter, I've agreed to give it a try. Yeah, mostly I've agreed to because I don't want to give up sleeping with them, but I'm at least going to try. That's all I can do.”
“Yep. Just don't forget to try, Luke.”
Asshole. I needed to find a friend who didn't know me so well.
The next call came Tuesday night.
I carried a stack of briefs and socks from my bedroom into the living room and set them on the couch next to the ragged suitcase with duct tape securing its corners and clothes piled high inside. Another suitcase, in worse shape than the first, sat empty on the floor. I should've splurged on new bags, but I couldn't bring myself to give that much import to the move.
I went into the kitchen and removed the leftover pizza from the oven. My cell rang. I chucked the pan onto the stovetop. “Yeah.”
“Luke?”
“Hi, Richard.” I headed back to the living room, my dinner forgotten.
“I guess it's a good start you can recognize my voice with just your name.”
“I haven't known anyone with a voice as deep as yours. It sort of does something to me.”
Flirting
. I was flirting.
“I can talk all night, Luke.” He laughed when I didn't respond. “I hope you don't mind, but I've already called Matthew. If you haven't noticed, he has a bit of a self-esteem issue. I thought it'd be good for him to know I called him first.”
I plopped onto the couch next to the suitcase and draped an arm behind my head. “Very perceptive of you. Of course it doesn't bother me.”
“I knew you'd understand. I have an early dinner meeting on Friday. I should be home by eight. I told Matthew to come at nine. Will that work for you?”
“Sure.”
“Have you packed anything yet?”
“No.”
“I thought not. You sure you don't want me to rent a truck?”
“I don't have much. I'm going to stash most of it at a friend's.” I didn't bother to tell him I'd spent thirty minutes earlier convincing myself to take more than one change of clothes to his house. I considered the two suitcases a huge step.
“Matthew said he'd just bring a few bags too. I've got pretty much everything else you'll need here.” He paused. “Okay, then. I'll see you at nine on Friday. And Luke? I'm looking forward to this.”
“Uh... yeah.”
He laughed with a deep bellow. “Okay. See you on Friday.”
I hung up and shoved at the open luggage. It fell on the floor and spilled its contents.
I paced the living room like a caged animal searching for the weakest link in the fence. After twenty minutes, I hadn't found any way to get out of what I'd agreed to with Matthew and Richard. And I wasn't sure I wanted to find it even if it did exist. Instead, I returned to the suitcases and struggled to accept what my life would become.
Only I had no concept of what that was.
I stopped at a clearance table in front of Desert Island Books, a bookstore boasting “the best collection of books to be stranded anywhere with.” I stared into the reflection of the store window and scanned the crowd behind me. The busy plaza was host to an odd mix of people. Tourists sporting bag after bag of souvenirs from shops like City Skyline Gifts. Teenage boys with the dangerous combination of no money to spend and time to kill. And the occasional suburbanite family shopping for anything they couldn't get outside the city limits, like a basket of twenty-eight gourmet cheeses that no one in their right mind would eat.
None of them were whom I needed to see. I picked up the nearest book in a practiced shopper's move. Who'd spend $9.95 on a self-help book titled
Live Today Like it's Your Last
anyway? Maybe not the best book to read when you're stranded alone on a deserted island. Shouldn't there be something like
How to Survive on a Deserted Island?
I dropped the book, picked up another, and scanned the crowd in the window's reflection again. A man sitting alone on a bench reading a newspaper caught my eye. He lowered the paper and glanced around the plaza, his gaze sweeping over my back along with everyone else. He raised the paper again, hiding more of his face than before.
Bingo.
I set the book down and hefted my laptop bag higher on my shoulder. I'd gotten pretty good at dodging them. It wouldn't take long. Except... my stalker was smiling, his paper folded on his lap, his arms out. A young boy ran toward him.
“Daddy!”
He scooped the small boy into his arms and gripped him in a bear hug. A woman trailed behind the boy, an infant cradled in her arms.
What were the chances my father hired an entire family to stalk me? Did I want to know?
I turned and watched them walk by. The family made their way to the end of the plaza and into an all-you-can-eat seafood joint. My gaze lingered on the boy's small hand tucked inside his father's.
I almost missed the man I needed to see. Thankfully, Tony's Seafood kept the large glass windows clean. There, under the neon sign indicating Tony's had the freshest fish in the city, was Fowler's reflection. He was leaning against the doorway to a souvenir shop behind me. He sported dark sunglasses and watched my back as intently as I watched him in the restaurant's window.
I'd left my apartment an hour earlier with the two suitcases in hand and my laptop bag over my shoulder. I'd already dropped off everything else I owned to Walter's the night before. As I stepped out of my place, I gave one last glance at the apartment. It looked identical to the day I'd moved in— minus one cheap folding chair. How had I spent over eight months in a place and not left any sign I'd been there? If I dropped off the planet, would anyone notice? Would anyone know I'd ever been alive? I shook my head and closed the door behind me. When did I get so maudlin?
I'd spent most of the week trying to figure out if I could take my surveillance cameras. And if I didn't, how long I'd even last at Richard's before my father's men or another reporter found me. I settled on ditching the cameras and taking a chance for once. A short-term plan. And despite that I usually did everything in those terms, it surprised me I didn't like thinking of Matthew and Richard as temporary. I'd taken one hell of a chance to start down a new path, and I wanted to give it a little time before I bailed. I also wanted to take every precaution I could manage.
I glanced at the table of books again as I pulled out my cell phone. Usually I'd weave in and out of stores to shake my tail, but I was running late. I still needed to get my bags from the hotel where I'd paid the cab driver to drop them off. And Fowler seemed a cut above my father's other men. Time for something more sophisticated. No sense taking a chance right off the bat.
All you had to mention to get someone stopped was a possible explosive hidden under a jacket and a public place like the Erie Street Market. I gave Fowler's description and hung up. I grabbed another book.
Love After 50: Learning to Love Yourself, Extra Baggage and All
. What kind of baggage did people living on a deserted island have? Jesus, were there this many screwed up people in the world? When did we stop making decisions without the advice of complete strangers? And when the hell did love gain such a rosy picture? Life after love sucked more than life before it. I should write that book. How long before it'd find its way onto the 70 percent off table?
Quick footsteps sounded farther down the plaza. I tossed the book onto the clearance table and faced him. Fowler didn't duck behind a nearby shopper or sales rack like so many of my father's other men did. He stared back at me. I threw him a smile and winked before heading into the bookstore.
An official sounding voice echoed in the plaza behind me. “Halt. Stand still and put your hands over your head.”
My smile grew as I headed for the bookstore's rear entrance.
Richard's house didn't seem near as large as it had the week before. The closer I got to it, the more it shrank in size. How could three men live together and not kill one another?
My hand hesitated over the doorbell.
For the past six months, I sat on a barstool at the Haven every Friday night. How had I gotten myself into packing a few bags and moving into another man's house instead? Only the fact that I was pretty sure I'd be getting laid regardless helped to ease the tension.
The door swung open. Richard wore a huge grin. “I thought Matthew'd beat you here.”
“Me too. He sure is an excited shit.”
“I think he might be too much for even the two of us to keep up with.”
“Speak for yourself, old man.”
“Hey now,” he said, but his gaze told me he looked forward to all Matthew and I could dish out.
The anticipation of more sexual interaction with them calmed me, and my cock filled at the mere thought of how the night would go. Would Richard mind that I stood at his door sporting a hard-on? Not likely. He was as into fucking me as I was him. I was clear on that. Even if not much else about what we were doing made sense to me.
He motioned for me to step inside and relieved me of one of the suitcases. “Leave your stuff by the door until Matthew gets here. Then I'll show you around. You didn't get to see the whole place last time.”
I slid my laptop bag off and set it with my suitcase. We stood a few feet apart and stared at each other.
He clasped his hands behind his back. “I'm glad you came.” The words were low enough to qualify as a whisper.
The doorbell rang.
“That'll be our eager shit now,” Richard said.
Matthew sported a broad smile. His wavy hair was windblown, more scattered than usual. His cheeks were pink, flushed from the cool night air— or excitement. Did I want to know which?
Richard grabbed two of Matthew's bags, and the small man stepped inside the house. He didn't move to touch Richard in any way, and his rigid stance surprised me. Richard placed his hand upon the younger man's shoulder and patted him.
“Hi,” Matthew said. His smile dimmed. He didn't make eye contact with either of us.
Fuck this shit.
I traversed the distance between us and sealed his lips with a kiss. My tongue explored as I moved us backward until his back hit the wall behind him. The bag slung over his shoulder dropped to the floor with a loud thud, and then his hands were all over me. Richard came in close and gripped my hips.
This is more like it.
I wrenched my mouth away from Matthew's and groaned at Richard's touch. Matthew snaked his hand around me, and he pulled Richard in, pinning me between them. The two kissed over my shoulder. Damn, they looked best up close.
“God, kid,” Richard said. “I missed your kisses.” He licked a line down my neck.
“Yeah,” I said. The word spread out longer than normal for a one-syllable word. I rocked between them.
Matthew smiled at me, the look vulnerable with a hint of something more I hadn't ever seen from any other man. Or maybe I had. I just didn't want to remember what it meant or admit Matthew looked at me like that. I ran my thumb over his cheek; he focused his eyes on mine.