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“How did he die?”

Vance pinched the bridge of his nose. “Drug overdose. I wasn't there that night. I always felt bad about that.”

“What was he on?”

“I don't know— I don't remember. It's not like he was some big drug user. It was a rare thing for him to even drink all that much. I'm sure I knew at the time what it was.” He rushed to say the rest. “If you're curious about Danny, you should talk to Maria. She's a talker. At least she was back then. I don't think I've seen her since, well, since your parents’ wedding. God, I'm getting old.”

“And what about Phillip Meade?”

“He passed away. Five years ago now. Heart attack.” Vance collected our empty beer bottles and tossed them into a container under the kitchen sink. He kept his back to me and stared out the window. “I read it in the paper. Went to the funeral and everything. Thought maybe I'd see Maria or John there. Didn't see either of them, though.” He faced me. “Funny how life goes. I thought we'd always be friends.”

“Life doesn't always work out the way we think it will,” I said.

“Tell me about it.”

“I've dropped the story.” Summers sounded annoyed that I'd bothered him with my call.

After talking to Roger Vance, I was convinced I was on the right track. I phoned Summers during the forty-five minute cab drive back to Richard's.

“Why?” I asked. The chatter of his office masked the silence on the line as I waited for him to explain.

“There wasn't much there, I'm afraid. I thought I was onto something, but I couldn't find anything in his past worthy of a story. My editors wanted me off it. I've got bigger fish to fry. Your father... he appears to be exactly who we've been led to believe he is.”

Sure
. “Can you tell me what your story was about?”

“It was more of a hunch. It didn't get me much of anything. I'm sorry I led you to believe it was more. It's how I work interviews. People will share more information when they think you don't need what they've got to tell you. Listen, I've got to run. Sorry for the waste of time and all that.”

My father got to him. He could get to anyone. “Can you tell me one thing? Were you looking into the death of Danny Conner?”

Click.

That was an answer. Was it the one I wanted?

“Can I fuck you tonight?”

Richard stood still. He stared at Matthew, his eyes wide, his hands at his sides, not a muscle moving on his large body.

It was another Saturday night, and we'd spent it eating pizza and enjoying Matthew's new video game. After he'd beaten us for the third game in a row, I distracted him with kisses. For a man who never kissed much, I was addicted to it.

Richard joined us in no time. We removed clothes, ran hands over skin, and crashed our bodies together. The floor of Matthew's room was looking good to me when Richard suggested we move to the basement and asked us what he always did.

I wanted them to tie me to the bench and bend me over for a hard fuck. Then Matthew asked if he could top Richard, turning the larger man into a silent statue.

Matthew tapped at a leg of the bench with his foot. His shoulders fell. Regret worked its way down his body through every muscle. How could he think Richard didn't want him? One look at Richard's face said it all.

I pressed against Matthew's back and whispered in his ear. “I think you made him speechless, but I think that's a yes.”

“God, yes,” Richard said. “I guess... I thought maybe you'd changed your mind. You haven't mentioned it since the club. I didn't want to push you.”

“I want to,” Matthew said, the words almost a shout.

Richard reached out, and Matthew went to him. They held tight as they stared at each other. Richard ran a thumb over the other man's cheek. “Let's get Luke tied up first, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“You go get him ready. I'll get the rope.”

I sat on the bench, and Matthew came to me. He straddled my hips. His balls met my skin as he lowered himself onto me. He sucked on my neck, licking, grinding, moving, teasing, until Richard brought two sections of rope to him.

He stood and took the ropes. He worked them around my wrists and through the handholds while Richard stood at the far end of the bench, his eyes on me.

I'd let him watch all night if it's what he needed from me. I ached to fulfill their every sexual wish— be for them what they were to me. Even if it meant Richard wouldn't be touching me.

Matthew finished securing my arms. I could barely feel the rope around my wrists. “Tighter.”

He reached for the rope again.

“No, Matthew,” Richard said. “The ropes are fine. Leave them.” His head jerked from side to side. “Luke, stop asking us to hurt you.”

“No. I don't want to hurt. Want to feel it.”

He knelt beside me. “You'll feel it. You'll feel my mouth on your body, on your cock. You'll feel me inside you. And after you've come, you'll feel me on top of you as Matthew fucks me.”

“Uh-huh. Please.”

Matthew knelt at my other side. “You're gonna feel both our mouths on you.” He kissed me, gave me so much to feel.

Richard rolled a condom on me. When it came to sucking, with no other distractions, he could give as good as Matthew. He switched between quick lunges and slow sucks on the crown of my dick. Matthew kissed me, tugged my nipples, and sucked on skin everywhere.

As promised, I felt it all. They were everywhere. All over me.

When I shot into the condom, the desire for Richard to swallow me down his throat, to lick me clean, to taste every last drop instead of throwing it in the trash overcame me.

Before I regained my composure, Richard stood and rolled me over. The ropes crossed above my head. He slicked me with his fingers and replaced them with his cock after only the time it took him to get the condom on. Relaxed, my body didn't fight him. He sank into me, and I felt him deep. The ropes tightened as I shoved back. He was giving me the fuck I wanted— the fuck I'd asked for. And it didn't seem to end.

Hard again, I groaned and lowered my head to rest on my arms. My tired body ached in the best way.

My second orgasm built, and my stomach muscles tightened. When my ass clenched around Richard's cock as I shot, he came with a loud cry.

He straightened before his body had stilled, and he flipped me over onto my back. He stood between my legs and stripped the condom from his prick, keeping his cock interested with a slow stroke. I'd never seen him stay hard before. Matthew was on the floor beside me, his own need apparent in his uneven breaths.

Richard's raspy voice sounded loud in the small room. “You two drive me crazy with your need, your begging, your openness. I've never known anyone who can give so much, take so much, from a single moment.” He stroked himself faster. “I can't get enough of you. Can't stand to think about you leaving.”

Matthew gasped.

“C'mere, kid. I want you inside me.”

Matthew straddled my body and kissed Richard. His ass was on display before me, and I wanted a taste. I lifted my head and tugged at the restraints, but I couldn't get close enough. “Fuck.”

Matthew swung around and knelt beside me again. “Please, Luke, can I untie you? You can touch Richard while I... ”

“Yeah. I'll touch him while you fuck him.”

Matthew ran his hands up each arm and untied me.

True to my word, I touched, stroked, caressed, and kissed Richard while Matthew enjoyed his ass for the first time. Breathless cries escaped both men as they savored each other in a new way. I loved them moving over my body. And even though I didn't come, it connected me to them in a way fucking them didn't.

Matthew screamed Richard's name over and over. His hips slammed one last time.

Richard groaned and clung to me as he came. “Thank you. God, thank you, Matthew. Loved having you inside me.”

Matthew fell onto Richard. “Uh-huh.”

“I think you wore him out,” I said. “Keep it up and he might not want to stay.”

Richard's body tensed over mine.

“No.” Matthew's hands patted my arm then Richard's. “Wanna stay. Not going. Staying.”

A tightness in my chest untangled. “Yeah? I guess we're all staying, then.”

Richard's body relaxed over mine. “You're not looking for a new place?”

“I haven't since I got here.”

“Good.”

“You want us to stay?”

He raised his head off my chest. “I do.”

Matthew's hand reached around Richard and found my face. He petted my cheek. “Staying.”

Richard cleared his throat and spoke louder. “This is how we should spend our Saturday nights. No cooking, no work, some games, and then sex to make Matthew scream like that again.”

Matthew shifted to his side and latched on to Richard. He buried his face in the man's neck. Richard returned the embrace. That was a cuddle if I ever saw one. What would it feel like to be wrapped up in them? To be held?
I don't want to know. Do I?

I ignored the reaction and settled in, trying not to think about how long they thought I meant by staying. Or how long I'd meant when I'd said it.

Maria Lammon was a hyperactive ball of energy. I got a headache just watching her hands flail through the air as she drank her coffee, ate an orange cranberry muffin, and told me how glad she was to get my call, all without stopping for a breath.

“Thanks for agreeing to help me out,” I said and sipped my own coffee from the disposable cup, feeling exposed in the middle of the highbrow coffee shop. It was not my kind of place. More along the lines of my father's taste. His office was nearby. Did he ever fetch his own coffee or lunch, or did some staffer always bring it to him? Would I look up and find him watching me talk to his old college friend?

“Oh, please,” she said. “Even after all these years, there isn't much I wouldn't do for your father. Which means you, my dear, can ask me for pretty much anything.” She flashed a smile, tore off another piece of muffin, and flung it into her mouth. “Tell me what I can do to help with this party.”

Did my father have some sort of admiration elixir he used on people? Or was there more to her relationship with him? More than friendship perhaps? Maria looked years younger than her age. Her primped dark hair, manicured fingernails, and an absence of any serious wrinkles indicated a woman who had spent a lifetime giving thought to her appearance. She had to have been even more beautiful at the age of twenty-two. And she came from money. That much I knew from my online search the day before. Just my father's type.

“As I said on the phone, I'm trying to locate some old friends to invite. I was able to find some of my mom's but got stuck on my dad.” I pulled the handwritten list from my pocket. “I met with Roger Vance, and he gave me your name and all these others.”

She took the list in one hand and her coffee in the other. Her eyes crinkled at the corners as her smile widened. “Roger Vance. How is he?”

“Fine. He was helpful.” I pointed to the list. “I had no other names but his when I started.”

She looked over the list, nodding and smiling as she read certain names. “He did better than I would've thought he'd do. He wasn't all that observant.” She pulled out a pen and started circling names and scratching off others, adding a couple of new ones to the end of the list, tapping the pen to her lips as she thought of more, all the while guzzling down the coffee. “There. Not sure how big your party'll be, but I'd start with the ones I circled.” She handed me the list. “It should be fun to see everyone. We had some great times back then.”

I sipped my coffee again and tried to appear casual. “Roger seemed real fond of my dad. I take it you all were close?”

“Oh yeah.” She dropped the pen next to her half-eaten muffin, but her gaze lingered on it as she continued talking. Her body hadn't been so still since we'd first sat down. “It breaks my heart sometimes how easy it was to lose touch. But after Danny... ” She shook her head and glanced at her coffee. She took a couple of quick sips.

“I heard about that. I'm sorry.”

Her eyes met mine. “Did your dad talk about him much? Back then he wouldn't— well, he just sort of shut down after Danny's death.”

“I didn't know anything about him until the other day.”

“I figured.”

“Can I ask what happened? Roger said it was an overdose?”

“Cocaine.”

“Roger couldn't remember what he'd taken.”

She set her coffee down, practically dropping it. It splashed up and out the small drinking hole. She didn't notice. “Really? That's weird.” Her voice rose as she continued. “The night of the funeral, we all went to Uptown and got plastered, drinking to Danny. I heard him talking to Phil. He said he felt responsible. That he knew about the coke, knew about Danny's
problem
.” She paused and spoke more to herself next. “Maybe he doesn't want to remember.”

“Danny Conner had a drug problem, then?”

“No. No, it wasn't like that. He just got sad sometimes, needed a pickup. It was the ‘70s, you know. Danny was... emotional. He seemed happy that day though. Everyone was happy then, glad to be graduating. I didn't even know he had anything with him that night. He usually had it in that old pocket watch he carried, inside the back of the case.”

“You were there that night?”

“Yeah. We all were. I think Roger was working. He got there... after.”

“That had to be hard.”

She nodded and resumed her earlier emphatic hand gestures. “It was a big party, night before graduation and all. No one was all that sober. I'll never forget that woman's scream. She found him on the floor in the bathroom. Phil, John, and I rushed in when we heard it was Danny. He was convulsing. I've never been so scared.” She sat back hard, her chair sliding with the force. “Oh, you don't want to hear any of this.”

“It's okay. I feel bad... for my dad.”

She shook her head. “I'd never seen John like that. He kept screaming Danny's name and trying to help him until the paramedics got there. Then he grabbed Danny's pocket watch and jumped into the bathtub to give them room to work. I couldn't see around the paramedics so I watched John's face for any sign that Danny'd be okay. John just stood in the tub, clutching that watch against his chest, his eyes on Danny, his body rocking. I'd never seen him like that.” She looked my way. “He's kinda the always-got-it-together type.” She laughed but it wasn't a happy sound. “I think he took Danny's death harder than any of us.”