Somewhere With You, Chapter Twenty-seven
Somewhere With You - Chapter Twenty-seven
It’s snowing when Heath’s plane touches down, almost an hour late but nobody complained since it was a de-icing delay and being late is a lot more palatable than being killed in an airplane crash. Since it’s Sunday night, even with the bad weather cabs are still plentiful and Heath makes it to his hotel without any drama.
His room is actually a suite, an expensive precaution the firm always takes in case a client needs to meet privately with their attorney. This one has a great view of the city and after Heath dumps his suitcase and laptop on the bed, he takes a minute to appreciate it, standing in the window watching the snow drift past - fat, lazy flakes that somehow make him feel separate from the rest of the world, like he’s once-removed from it all. Snow always makes him feel that way, probably because they never had it in south Florida where he grew up, so it’s still more of a treat than an inconvenience.
After a couple of minutes of staring, though, it starts to make him feel dizzy so he turns back to his room. The bed’s huge with enough pillows to sleep a small army, facing a T.V. that takes up half a wall. It’s nice, luxurious even, but he’d rather be at home, flopped out on his sofa drinking a beer and watching something mindless on T.V., and he can’t help the nagging thought that somewhere along the way he must’ve taken a wrong turn in life. Everything’s turned out just like he planned, he’s accomplished every goal he set for himself back in law school, but his heart’s not in it anymore, everything feels empty and pointless, and he’s not sure how to make things right.
He gets a beer from the stocked mini-fridge and then roots around till he finds the room service menu. Like everything else about the hotel, the menu is sophisticated and expensive. There was a time when Heath worried about things like that, thought he was taking advantage by drinking from the minibar and ordering in, but those days are long gone. The firm makes a mint off of him and because of them he’s in Boston on Sunday night instead of at home, maybe possibly with Jake, because even though he’d sworn to himself - after two humiliating strikes - that he was going to give up the chase, it’s even money whether he would’ve actually stayed that course or not. The way he’s feeling now, confused and lonely and so fucking needy he can hardly stand himself, he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have made it through the day without caving in and going back for more.
As he waits for his dinner, crab cakes and a Caesar salad with shrimp, he flips through the channels and tries not to wonder how Jake spent his afternoon. An image of the old guy stumbling out of the bathroom keeps replaying in his head like a bad gif and every time he sees him he fights the urge to gag. It makes him wonder for the umpteenth time how Jake ended up doing that for a living. He’s obviously smart, well-mannered and sharp. He doesn’t come across as some poor, stupid kid who grew up on the streets and can’t do any better. So why is he doing this now? And why is this better than anything Heath can offer?
Heath spends the next two days mired deep in the financial and emotional drama of a handful of bitter, disappointed heirs trying to poke loopholes in an ironclad will. While they suck up most of his mental time and all of his energy, he still finds himself rolling that same question over in his mind every night before bed, when the emptiness next to him spreads like cold fingers over his body, making him know beyond anything that whatever else happens, he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life alone.
*****
Wednesday morning, Heath’s back in his office, reviewing some files before his first client meeting at 9:30, when Laura knocks on his door. As he looks up, she’s sticking her head in. “Got a minute?”
“Sure,” he says, knowing that unless he’s ten seconds away from figuring out a cure for cancer, he’d better make time for her. She’s all that stands between him and absolute mayhem.
They chat for a minute about his trip, and he promises to have his receipts and vouchers turned in by the end of the week. She tells him about a couple of things going on in the office, then says, in her pseudo-nonchalant way that makes the hair stand up on the back of his neck, “So, do you have a date lined up for tonight?”
It would be great if he was an actor or a liar or a psychopath, because then he could probably fake his way through this conversation, but he’s not so he opens his mouth, then closes it again quickly because he’s not sure what to say, clears his throat as he tries to think why she’s asking him this - he knows he should know but for the life of him he can’t think what it is - the charity ball isn’t till the weekend, not that he has a date or even a prayer of a date for that either, but at least it’s not tonight…. She starts to hum the Jeopardy tune and Heath knows he’s sunk.
“I’ll take ‘Why do I need a date tonight? for $500, Alex.’”
She rolls her eyes and doesn’t even pretend to smile. “Do you ever listen to anything I say that isn’t about clients? Seriously, Heath?”
There’s no good answer to that, so he just tries to look innocent and pitiful and she knows from experience that it’s a dead argument. “Mr. Morrison is taking the whole group out for dinner tonight to show his appreciation for all the money you guys make for him. He does it every year, remember? And I told you about it a couple of weeks ago, and specifically said, ‘Be sure and get a date.’”
She probably did tell him, but he’s had so many other things going on in his head that he can’t remember, and it doesn’t matter anyway. He doesn’t have a date and there’s no one he could’ve asked if he’d had time to prepare since he can’t even remember the last time he had a personal conversation with a girl that wasn’t either Anne or a relative. If he’d known, he could’ve asked Jake, although he would’ve probably said no, once he quit laughing. Heath can easily imagine the look of what-the-fuck on his face, then him shaking his head and reminding Heath yet again the he’s a hooker, not a substitute boyfriend.
Still, if he could bring anyone, that’s who he’d bring. Laura cocks her head to the side and drills him with her most intimidating glare and Heath makes a sudden kamikaze decision. “I’m actually seeing someone right now, but he has to work tonight so I’m coming alone. Unless Anne can come. I’ll call her… as long as you don’t break my fingers, because then I won’t be able to call anybody.”
Her mouth falls open about half a second after Heath says the word he, and she stares at him for about a minute, mute and dazed, just long enough for his nerves to kick in. Finally her mouth snaps shut and she glares at him for another few fidgety seconds before she gets herself together. “You just came out to me, didn’t you? After making me watch you torment girl after girl after girl for years, you’re coming out in casual conversation, like it’s no big deal! No warm up, no stuttering apology, no excuses. Just, Oh, I’ve got a boyfriend but he’s working tonight so I have to come stag? What the hell, Heath?”
Heath doesn’t have a good answer to that, figures the less she knows about barroom blowjobs, the better off she’ll survive this whole conversation. He reaches into his desk and pulls out an envelope. “I’ve got a gift card to that spa you like, if that helps any,” he says, sliding it across the desk. It was for her birthday, but he can get something else. It’s still two weeks away.
She snatches the card up but it doesn’t do much to dull the glare she’s still sending his way. “You can’t totally buy your way out of this, Mister! Besides, I need something to tell the rest of the office.” She narrows her eyes again. “You are planning to tell them, right? I mean, you’re bringing him to the ball Saturday night, right? What’s his name, by the way, and how did you meet him and what the hell?!? Seriously???”
Heath spends the next five minutes making up half of what he tells her, although he works in some truths every chance he gets. His name is Jake and they met at a bar and they’ve only been dating for a few weeks. He makes up the part where he’s still in school and waits tables for extra money, because that’s the best legitimate scenario he’s been able to come up with to explain Jake’s obvious above-average intelligence along with his weekend lifestyle. Heath hedges his bets by saying Jake’s not sure yet about his schedule this Saturday and tries not to squirm when she frowns, dark and forbidding.
“This has been on the calendar since last November, Heath.”
“His schedule’s erratic. I can’t help that.”
She’s about to come back at him with more arguments when his phone beeps announcing that his 9:30 has arrived, blessedly getting him off the hook for the moment, at least.
*****
The dinner is at a placed called Bistro Bis. Heath’s never been there but he’s heard good things and tries to think about food and not the fact that half the office now knows that he’s fucking a guy and will be looking at him with a whole new set of eyes when he steps foot into the bar. His stomach is empty and rolling nervously and he searches for the sign to the restroom because barfing isn’t totally out of the question, but then Mrs. Morrison - the boss’s wife - comes up and gives him a big smile and a welcome hug and says, “How are you? Jonathon says you’re working yourself to death. You don’t have to do that, you know? He already thinks you’re a Godsend.”
She’s one of the nicest people Heath knows and they chat for a few minutes and somehow she ferrets out of him the news about his grandmother and she’s sad and assures him that the firm will support him in whatever decisions he has to make. It’s the first time Heath’s really considered the fact that he might eventually do something besides worry and fret from D.C. It’s been out there in the nether regions of his mind, but suddenly it comes forward in a more real way. Leave of absences aren’t unheard off, but they aren’t easy to manage either. He needs to get down there and see what’s going on before he goes any further with it in his head, but just the thought of the sun and the ocean and his family stirs up a need inside of him that he’s shut down for way too long.
“And now you’ve got a boyfriend too, I hear,” she says, yanking him out of his thoughts and back into the here and now with a jolt. “I can’t say that I was totally surprised. Someone as handsome and settled as you never being able to find the right girl just didn’t quite add up.”
She sips her wine and watches him and he tries to pretend like this isn’t the most embarrassing conversation he’s ever had. “Yes ma’am. He’s great. I wish he could’ve come with me tonight. I’d love for you to meet him.”
“What’s his name? Laura mentioned it but Jonathon couldn’t remember.”
“Jake. He’s in school and works as a waiter to help with the bills.” He’s flying by the seat of his pants, having no better story for her than he did in the office when Laura started quizzing him, and he kicks himself for not at least coming up with something a little more substantial to buy some time with.
“Where does he work?” she asks, curiosity, nothing more, showing on her face.
“Umm…” Heath wracks his brain but suddenly there are no restaurant names there. “I’m not sure. It’s a new place, and he told me but I didn’t know it so the name didn’t stick.” She arches her eyebrows at that and he tries to fix it by adding, “We’ve only been seeing each other a few weeks, like I said, and we’re both busy, you know how it is…”
She nods sympathetically. “What’s he studying?”
Fuck! Heath sifts around for something besides law. “Business, but it’s still early days, so it could change.”
“So he’s young then?”
Heath’s composure starts to slip even more, because young equals hot fuck toy and he doesn’t want to even get near that train of thought with his boss’s wife. Not that she’ll ever meet Jake anyway, and he is fucking hot as shit, and probably anyone below the age of eighty who looks at him will automatically think of sex, but still… “I think he took a couple of years off after high school.”
She presses her lips together and nods, and Heath can see plain as day that she’s thinking he’s either the most clueless boyfriend ever, or the worst liar on the planet. At least she’s nice enough not to say it, just sips her wine and murmurs, "I see," like he's said something sensible.
Just then, a young man approaches and touches her on the arm. “Mrs. Morrison, your room is ready whenever your party would like to go back.”
“Trevor, thank you dear. That's excellent." She glances towards her husband and sees that he's deep in conversation and turns back to the waiter. "Oh, and by the way, just me being nosey, but how long have you been waiting tables in the city?”
He looks surprised at the question, maybe even a little wary. “Three years.”
“I thought it must’ve been a while. You’re so smooth,” she says, smiling brightly, which makes him relax. “I’ve just got a question. My friend here,” she inclines her head towards Heath, “is friendly with a young man who works at another restaurant in town, but we can’t recall the name of it. I was just wondering if you might know him. His name is Jake.”
Heath’s face goes hot with mortification as Trevor tilts his head, looking him up and down for a few seconds like he’s trying to decide if he’s a stalker or some other sort of bad news. Heath would give his left nut to be a hundred miles from this conversation, but since that option isn’t on the table and he can’t stand the look of doubt and speculation in this guy’s eyes, he forces himself to try to explain. “We met a couple of weeks ago and he mentioned waiting tables someplace downtown, but we were at a bar and it was loud and I can’t remember what he said…”
It’s one of the lamest explanations he’s come up with since grade school when he lost his bicycle (because he left it outside when he skipped school and went to an arcade with his friends), but it seems to do the trick because after a few seconds, Trevor seems to decide he’s harmless. It probably has more to do with Mrs. Morrison than anything Heath’s said. “Well, I actually know a couple of Jake’s. Do you have a picture in your phone?”
Heath shakes his head, then prays they don’t suggest he text him since that’s not possible. Mrs. Morrison and Trevor both look at him like he’s a bad boyfriend. He can clearly see the shadows of doubt in Mrs. Morrison’s eyes and he digs in, deciding to go for broke because the last thing he wants is to get caught in this lie.
“He’s about my height,” he holds his hand out at eye level, “slim but muscular, dark hair, blue eyes, really nice smile.” They both keep looking like he’s leaving out something important. If they want an in-depth description of his dick, they can forget it. “His eyelashes are pretty amazing,” Heath mumbles, and that’s as personal as he’s willing to get. They can believe him or not.
Trevor grins suddenly and pulls out his phone. “I bet it’s this guy,” he says, and flashes a picture of Jake, smiling, wearing Heath’s coat with a hoodie underneath and a blue beanie. Heath’s heart almost flips out of his chest just seeing the picture and he knows he’s not going to be able to walk away, no matter how much he probably needs to.
Heath stares at the picture until it begins to twist, and he looks up, sees Trevor looking at him expectantly. “Yeah, that’s him,” he says, straightening up to his full height and putting some heat in his words because it occurs to him to wonder how come Trevor has Jake’s picture in his phone, especially such a recent one.
Trevor isn’t a dumbass. He picks up on the potential ass-kicking - or at least tip-killing - vibe of the situation and gets his explanation out first thing. “Some guys he works with at Bobby V’s were trying to set us up, but yeah, that didn’t happen. He’s a cool dude though. Lucky you.” Trevor tucks the phone out of sight and turns back to Mrs. Morrison, flipping his waiter persona back on full strength. “Shall I tell Mr. Morrison we’re ready?”
“Yes, dear, that would be perfect,” she tells him with a kind smile. She watches him leave, then turns back to Heath, the smile still there, and he can see that she’s convinced. She must’ve picked up on the ass-kicking vibe too.
“Your friend looks absolutely charming. I can’t wait to meet him.” She links their arms together and begins drawing him towards the rest of the group. “Now let’s go eat. I’m starving. If you haven’t eaten here yet, you’re going to love it.”
*****
“Dude, come on… You never go anywhere with us anymore. What the fuck? Did you get married and forget to tell anybody?”
Jake sighs, tries to think of something besides school tomorrow. Even though it’s a legitimate excuse, they’re tired of it. He’s tired of it too, and he could go out for an hour and still make it home before midnight. Anything more than six hours of sleep is just gravy anyway. He doesn’t want to go though, just wants to go back to his place and veg out, maybe even make some pasta or something, eat a real meal for a change, not something reheated hours after it was cooked.
Just as he’s about to toss out his same tired old excuse, Hunter, the bartender, sticks his head around the corner, shit-eating grin on his face. “Yo! Jake! Your boyfriend’s here to pick you up!”
“Huh?” Jake whips his head around in time to see Hunter giving him a wink and an attaboy thumbs-up while all the other guys are gawking at him.
“Whoa! You did get married and not tell anybody!” Bryan says, loud enough that it echoes off the concrete walls, which is all it takes to get Corey on board.
“To a dude! I knew it! What the hell was wrong with Trevor, man? He was all bummed, said you blew him off like old potato salad.” He and Bryan laugh, heh heh heh at that, and Jake’s stomach’s churning because who the fuck?, but then a shadow looms behind Hunter and suddenly Heath’s there - and thank God it’s Heath and not some other john who’s tracked him down, but still...
After about two seconds of stunned silence, Jake lets loose. “What the fuck, man? You can’t just show up, telling people we’re together!” He grabs his phone and his wallet out of his locker, slamming it shut, making sure Heath knows he’s pissed. “Maybe I’m not even out here! You ever stop and think about that?”
Jake can tell from the blank look on Heath’s face that no, it didn’t occur to him. Not that it actually really matters - half the waiters in D.C. are gay and nobody cares - but Jake hasn’t wanted to take any chances on getting his separate lives mixed up, so he’s tried to keep his sexuality completely out of sight.
“Dude… cut him some slack, man. I made him for your beau as soon as he asked for you. He didn’t hafta tell me that,” Hunter says, giving Jake a friendly shove. “Besides, that whole straight gig you were trying to pull was up the second time Caitlin Hayes used your thigh for her own personal humping station and you never once took your hands off the table. We might be high mosta the time, mofo, but we ain’t brain dead yet.”
The other guys snicker and Heath just digs his hands deeper into the pockets of his long overcoat, lips pressed in a thin line, his jaw rock hard. He looks a little bit like an assassin for the Godfather, except for how Jake can see a fine sheen of nervous sweat on his forehead. He figures one more jab and Heath’ll be out the door, and pissed or not, smart or not, that’s not how Jake wants this to play out.
“So fine, whatever,” he concedes, dialing back the hostility a notch. “What’re you doing here, anyway?” Not to mention, how did he find him? Jake knows he never said so much as a word about his other job, and definitely not the name of the restaurant.
Heath's shoulders relax a little and he lowers his head, shuffles awkwardly past the other guys, then doesn’t stop coming till he’s only a foot away. Close up, his eyes are jittery and he still looks anxious as all hell, which Jake figures he deserves so he doesn’t do anything more to make it easier.
“I need to talk to you,” Heath says, his voice gruff but steady.
Jake’s mouth twists bitterly. “Dude. Last time you talked to me, you broke up with me. I don’t think there’s anything left to say.” Jake stalks over to the coat rack and yanks his jacket off the hanger, eyeing Heath over his shoulder as he drags it on.
“Yeah, I know, but that was me being stupid,” Heath says, clear enough that their audience can hear him. “I want another chance.”
Jake stares down at the floor, thinking about how hard it must be for Heath to be having this conversation in front of some assholes he doesn’t even know. He also thinks about how he’s spent the last week and a half thinking the same thing, that he’d do most anything for a second chance. Except ask for it, of course. But that’s what Heath’s doing. He has way more to lose than Jake, but he’s here, asking for it, and when Jake finally looks up, he sees something like desperation on Heath’s face. He feels the same goddamned way inside. There’s no way he’s saying no.
Still, it’s a guaranteed clusterfuck if they let it happen. He needs to make sure Heath gets that. “Nothing’s changed, man. You weren’t satisfied before. You won’t be now.”
Heath sighs and drops his head, body language screaming defeat, and Jake’s insides go tight because he wasn’t prepared for him to come here like this and then give up so easily. He’s trying to figure out how to backtrack without coming across as a total loser when Heath takes a step closer, lowers his voice.
“I get that you’re done, and I respect that, but I need a favor. A couple of them, actually,” he says, shifts his shoulders under the heavy coat. “Give me tonight and Saturday, then if you wanna walk away I’ll never bother you again. I promise.”
“What do you want?” he asks stupidly. Bryan makes a weird coughing noise behind them and Heath’s face turns an odd shade of red, at which point it occurs to Jake that he’s not going to say no, no matter what Heath asks him to do, and they’d all be better off if he asked it in private.
“Yeah, ok, whatever. Let’s go,” he says, grabbing his backpack and giving Heath a push towards the door. “But I got school in the morning, so if you’re planning to tie me up and read me War and Peace or something, you better have the Cliff’s notes.”
Corey and Bryan get a laugh out of that, and Hunter, who sounds almost as relieved as Heath looks, says, “You still want that burger? It’s up at the bar if you do.”
Jake looks at Heath, but he shakes his head. “I thought you might be hungry so I ordered a pizza. We’ll get it on the way home.” He nods towards the exit. “I’ve got a cab waiting outside.”
“Guess I’m set, then. Thanks, dude. Later,” he says, bumps Hunter’s fist as he goes by, waves at the other guys and then leads Heath out the employees’ exit and around to the waiting taxi.
It’s snowing when Heath’s plane touches down, almost an hour late but nobody complained since it was a de-icing delay and being late is a lot more palatable than being killed in an airplane crash. Since it’s Sunday night, even with the bad weather cabs are still plentiful and Heath makes it to his hotel without any drama.
His room is actually a suite, an expensive precaution the firm always takes in case a client needs to meet privately with their attorney. This one has a great view of the city and after Heath dumps his suitcase and laptop on the bed, he takes a minute to appreciate it, standing in the window watching the snow drift past - fat, lazy flakes that somehow make him feel separate from the rest of the world, like he’s once-removed from it all. Snow always makes him feel that way, probably because they never had it in south Florida where he grew up, so it’s still more of a treat than an inconvenience.
After a couple of minutes of staring, though, it starts to make him feel dizzy so he turns back to his room. The bed’s huge with enough pillows to sleep a small army, facing a T.V. that takes up half a wall. It’s nice, luxurious even, but he’d rather be at home, flopped out on his sofa drinking a beer and watching something mindless on T.V., and he can’t help the nagging thought that somewhere along the way he must’ve taken a wrong turn in life. Everything’s turned out just like he planned, he’s accomplished every goal he set for himself back in law school, but his heart’s not in it anymore, everything feels empty and pointless, and he’s not sure how to make things right.
He gets a beer from the stocked mini-fridge and then roots around till he finds the room service menu. Like everything else about the hotel, the menu is sophisticated and expensive. There was a time when Heath worried about things like that, thought he was taking advantage by drinking from the minibar and ordering in, but those days are long gone. The firm makes a mint off of him and because of them he’s in Boston on Sunday night instead of at home, maybe possibly with Jake, because even though he’d sworn to himself - after two humiliating strikes - that he was going to give up the chase, it’s even money whether he would’ve actually stayed that course or not. The way he’s feeling now, confused and lonely and so fucking needy he can hardly stand himself, he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have made it through the day without caving in and going back for more.
As he waits for his dinner, crab cakes and a Caesar salad with shrimp, he flips through the channels and tries not to wonder how Jake spent his afternoon. An image of the old guy stumbling out of the bathroom keeps replaying in his head like a bad gif and every time he sees him he fights the urge to gag. It makes him wonder for the umpteenth time how Jake ended up doing that for a living. He’s obviously smart, well-mannered and sharp. He doesn’t come across as some poor, stupid kid who grew up on the streets and can’t do any better. So why is he doing this now? And why is this better than anything Heath can offer?
Heath spends the next two days mired deep in the financial and emotional drama of a handful of bitter, disappointed heirs trying to poke loopholes in an ironclad will. While they suck up most of his mental time and all of his energy, he still finds himself rolling that same question over in his mind every night before bed, when the emptiness next to him spreads like cold fingers over his body, making him know beyond anything that whatever else happens, he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life alone.
*****
Wednesday morning, Heath’s back in his office, reviewing some files before his first client meeting at 9:30, when Laura knocks on his door. As he looks up, she’s sticking her head in. “Got a minute?”
“Sure,” he says, knowing that unless he’s ten seconds away from figuring out a cure for cancer, he’d better make time for her. She’s all that stands between him and absolute mayhem.
They chat for a minute about his trip, and he promises to have his receipts and vouchers turned in by the end of the week. She tells him about a couple of things going on in the office, then says, in her pseudo-nonchalant way that makes the hair stand up on the back of his neck, “So, do you have a date lined up for tonight?”
It would be great if he was an actor or a liar or a psychopath, because then he could probably fake his way through this conversation, but he’s not so he opens his mouth, then closes it again quickly because he’s not sure what to say, clears his throat as he tries to think why she’s asking him this - he knows he should know but for the life of him he can’t think what it is - the charity ball isn’t till the weekend, not that he has a date or even a prayer of a date for that either, but at least it’s not tonight…. She starts to hum the Jeopardy tune and Heath knows he’s sunk.
“I’ll take ‘Why do I need a date tonight? for $500, Alex.’”
She rolls her eyes and doesn’t even pretend to smile. “Do you ever listen to anything I say that isn’t about clients? Seriously, Heath?”
There’s no good answer to that, so he just tries to look innocent and pitiful and she knows from experience that it’s a dead argument. “Mr. Morrison is taking the whole group out for dinner tonight to show his appreciation for all the money you guys make for him. He does it every year, remember? And I told you about it a couple of weeks ago, and specifically said, ‘Be sure and get a date.’”
She probably did tell him, but he’s had so many other things going on in his head that he can’t remember, and it doesn’t matter anyway. He doesn’t have a date and there’s no one he could’ve asked if he’d had time to prepare since he can’t even remember the last time he had a personal conversation with a girl that wasn’t either Anne or a relative. If he’d known, he could’ve asked Jake, although he would’ve probably said no, once he quit laughing. Heath can easily imagine the look of what-the-fuck on his face, then him shaking his head and reminding Heath yet again the he’s a hooker, not a substitute boyfriend.
Still, if he could bring anyone, that’s who he’d bring. Laura cocks her head to the side and drills him with her most intimidating glare and Heath makes a sudden kamikaze decision. “I’m actually seeing someone right now, but he has to work tonight so I’m coming alone. Unless Anne can come. I’ll call her… as long as you don’t break my fingers, because then I won’t be able to call anybody.”
Her mouth falls open about half a second after Heath says the word he, and she stares at him for about a minute, mute and dazed, just long enough for his nerves to kick in. Finally her mouth snaps shut and she glares at him for another few fidgety seconds before she gets herself together. “You just came out to me, didn’t you? After making me watch you torment girl after girl after girl for years, you’re coming out in casual conversation, like it’s no big deal! No warm up, no stuttering apology, no excuses. Just, Oh, I’ve got a boyfriend but he’s working tonight so I have to come stag? What the hell, Heath?”
Heath doesn’t have a good answer to that, figures the less she knows about barroom blowjobs, the better off she’ll survive this whole conversation. He reaches into his desk and pulls out an envelope. “I’ve got a gift card to that spa you like, if that helps any,” he says, sliding it across the desk. It was for her birthday, but he can get something else. It’s still two weeks away.
She snatches the card up but it doesn’t do much to dull the glare she’s still sending his way. “You can’t totally buy your way out of this, Mister! Besides, I need something to tell the rest of the office.” She narrows her eyes again. “You are planning to tell them, right? I mean, you’re bringing him to the ball Saturday night, right? What’s his name, by the way, and how did you meet him and what the hell?!? Seriously???”
Heath spends the next five minutes making up half of what he tells her, although he works in some truths every chance he gets. His name is Jake and they met at a bar and they’ve only been dating for a few weeks. He makes up the part where he’s still in school and waits tables for extra money, because that’s the best legitimate scenario he’s been able to come up with to explain Jake’s obvious above-average intelligence along with his weekend lifestyle. Heath hedges his bets by saying Jake’s not sure yet about his schedule this Saturday and tries not to squirm when she frowns, dark and forbidding.
“This has been on the calendar since last November, Heath.”
“His schedule’s erratic. I can’t help that.”
She’s about to come back at him with more arguments when his phone beeps announcing that his 9:30 has arrived, blessedly getting him off the hook for the moment, at least.
*****
The dinner is at a placed called Bistro Bis. Heath’s never been there but he’s heard good things and tries to think about food and not the fact that half the office now knows that he’s fucking a guy and will be looking at him with a whole new set of eyes when he steps foot into the bar. His stomach is empty and rolling nervously and he searches for the sign to the restroom because barfing isn’t totally out of the question, but then Mrs. Morrison - the boss’s wife - comes up and gives him a big smile and a welcome hug and says, “How are you? Jonathon says you’re working yourself to death. You don’t have to do that, you know? He already thinks you’re a Godsend.”
She’s one of the nicest people Heath knows and they chat for a few minutes and somehow she ferrets out of him the news about his grandmother and she’s sad and assures him that the firm will support him in whatever decisions he has to make. It’s the first time Heath’s really considered the fact that he might eventually do something besides worry and fret from D.C. It’s been out there in the nether regions of his mind, but suddenly it comes forward in a more real way. Leave of absences aren’t unheard off, but they aren’t easy to manage either. He needs to get down there and see what’s going on before he goes any further with it in his head, but just the thought of the sun and the ocean and his family stirs up a need inside of him that he’s shut down for way too long.
“And now you’ve got a boyfriend too, I hear,” she says, yanking him out of his thoughts and back into the here and now with a jolt. “I can’t say that I was totally surprised. Someone as handsome and settled as you never being able to find the right girl just didn’t quite add up.”
She sips her wine and watches him and he tries to pretend like this isn’t the most embarrassing conversation he’s ever had. “Yes ma’am. He’s great. I wish he could’ve come with me tonight. I’d love for you to meet him.”
“What’s his name? Laura mentioned it but Jonathon couldn’t remember.”
“Jake. He’s in school and works as a waiter to help with the bills.” He’s flying by the seat of his pants, having no better story for her than he did in the office when Laura started quizzing him, and he kicks himself for not at least coming up with something a little more substantial to buy some time with.
“Where does he work?” she asks, curiosity, nothing more, showing on her face.
“Umm…” Heath wracks his brain but suddenly there are no restaurant names there. “I’m not sure. It’s a new place, and he told me but I didn’t know it so the name didn’t stick.” She arches her eyebrows at that and he tries to fix it by adding, “We’ve only been seeing each other a few weeks, like I said, and we’re both busy, you know how it is…”
She nods sympathetically. “What’s he studying?”
Fuck! Heath sifts around for something besides law. “Business, but it’s still early days, so it could change.”
“So he’s young then?”
Heath’s composure starts to slip even more, because young equals hot fuck toy and he doesn’t want to even get near that train of thought with his boss’s wife. Not that she’ll ever meet Jake anyway, and he is fucking hot as shit, and probably anyone below the age of eighty who looks at him will automatically think of sex, but still… “I think he took a couple of years off after high school.”
She presses her lips together and nods, and Heath can see plain as day that she’s thinking he’s either the most clueless boyfriend ever, or the worst liar on the planet. At least she’s nice enough not to say it, just sips her wine and murmurs, "I see," like he's said something sensible.
Just then, a young man approaches and touches her on the arm. “Mrs. Morrison, your room is ready whenever your party would like to go back.”
“Trevor, thank you dear. That's excellent." She glances towards her husband and sees that he's deep in conversation and turns back to the waiter. "Oh, and by the way, just me being nosey, but how long have you been waiting tables in the city?”
He looks surprised at the question, maybe even a little wary. “Three years.”
“I thought it must’ve been a while. You’re so smooth,” she says, smiling brightly, which makes him relax. “I’ve just got a question. My friend here,” she inclines her head towards Heath, “is friendly with a young man who works at another restaurant in town, but we can’t recall the name of it. I was just wondering if you might know him. His name is Jake.”
Heath’s face goes hot with mortification as Trevor tilts his head, looking him up and down for a few seconds like he’s trying to decide if he’s a stalker or some other sort of bad news. Heath would give his left nut to be a hundred miles from this conversation, but since that option isn’t on the table and he can’t stand the look of doubt and speculation in this guy’s eyes, he forces himself to try to explain. “We met a couple of weeks ago and he mentioned waiting tables someplace downtown, but we were at a bar and it was loud and I can’t remember what he said…”
It’s one of the lamest explanations he’s come up with since grade school when he lost his bicycle (because he left it outside when he skipped school and went to an arcade with his friends), but it seems to do the trick because after a few seconds, Trevor seems to decide he’s harmless. It probably has more to do with Mrs. Morrison than anything Heath’s said. “Well, I actually know a couple of Jake’s. Do you have a picture in your phone?”
Heath shakes his head, then prays they don’t suggest he text him since that’s not possible. Mrs. Morrison and Trevor both look at him like he’s a bad boyfriend. He can clearly see the shadows of doubt in Mrs. Morrison’s eyes and he digs in, deciding to go for broke because the last thing he wants is to get caught in this lie.
“He’s about my height,” he holds his hand out at eye level, “slim but muscular, dark hair, blue eyes, really nice smile.” They both keep looking like he’s leaving out something important. If they want an in-depth description of his dick, they can forget it. “His eyelashes are pretty amazing,” Heath mumbles, and that’s as personal as he’s willing to get. They can believe him or not.
Trevor grins suddenly and pulls out his phone. “I bet it’s this guy,” he says, and flashes a picture of Jake, smiling, wearing Heath’s coat with a hoodie underneath and a blue beanie. Heath’s heart almost flips out of his chest just seeing the picture and he knows he’s not going to be able to walk away, no matter how much he probably needs to.
Heath stares at the picture until it begins to twist, and he looks up, sees Trevor looking at him expectantly. “Yeah, that’s him,” he says, straightening up to his full height and putting some heat in his words because it occurs to him to wonder how come Trevor has Jake’s picture in his phone, especially such a recent one.
Trevor isn’t a dumbass. He picks up on the potential ass-kicking - or at least tip-killing - vibe of the situation and gets his explanation out first thing. “Some guys he works with at Bobby V’s were trying to set us up, but yeah, that didn’t happen. He’s a cool dude though. Lucky you.” Trevor tucks the phone out of sight and turns back to Mrs. Morrison, flipping his waiter persona back on full strength. “Shall I tell Mr. Morrison we’re ready?”
“Yes, dear, that would be perfect,” she tells him with a kind smile. She watches him leave, then turns back to Heath, the smile still there, and he can see that she’s convinced. She must’ve picked up on the ass-kicking vibe too.
“Your friend looks absolutely charming. I can’t wait to meet him.” She links their arms together and begins drawing him towards the rest of the group. “Now let’s go eat. I’m starving. If you haven’t eaten here yet, you’re going to love it.”
*****
“Dude, come on… You never go anywhere with us anymore. What the fuck? Did you get married and forget to tell anybody?”
Jake sighs, tries to think of something besides school tomorrow. Even though it’s a legitimate excuse, they’re tired of it. He’s tired of it too, and he could go out for an hour and still make it home before midnight. Anything more than six hours of sleep is just gravy anyway. He doesn’t want to go though, just wants to go back to his place and veg out, maybe even make some pasta or something, eat a real meal for a change, not something reheated hours after it was cooked.
Just as he’s about to toss out his same tired old excuse, Hunter, the bartender, sticks his head around the corner, shit-eating grin on his face. “Yo! Jake! Your boyfriend’s here to pick you up!”
“Huh?” Jake whips his head around in time to see Hunter giving him a wink and an attaboy thumbs-up while all the other guys are gawking at him.
“Whoa! You did get married and not tell anybody!” Bryan says, loud enough that it echoes off the concrete walls, which is all it takes to get Corey on board.
“To a dude! I knew it! What the hell was wrong with Trevor, man? He was all bummed, said you blew him off like old potato salad.” He and Bryan laugh, heh heh heh at that, and Jake’s stomach’s churning because who the fuck?, but then a shadow looms behind Hunter and suddenly Heath’s there - and thank God it’s Heath and not some other john who’s tracked him down, but still...
After about two seconds of stunned silence, Jake lets loose. “What the fuck, man? You can’t just show up, telling people we’re together!” He grabs his phone and his wallet out of his locker, slamming it shut, making sure Heath knows he’s pissed. “Maybe I’m not even out here! You ever stop and think about that?”
Jake can tell from the blank look on Heath’s face that no, it didn’t occur to him. Not that it actually really matters - half the waiters in D.C. are gay and nobody cares - but Jake hasn’t wanted to take any chances on getting his separate lives mixed up, so he’s tried to keep his sexuality completely out of sight.
“Dude… cut him some slack, man. I made him for your beau as soon as he asked for you. He didn’t hafta tell me that,” Hunter says, giving Jake a friendly shove. “Besides, that whole straight gig you were trying to pull was up the second time Caitlin Hayes used your thigh for her own personal humping station and you never once took your hands off the table. We might be high mosta the time, mofo, but we ain’t brain dead yet.”
The other guys snicker and Heath just digs his hands deeper into the pockets of his long overcoat, lips pressed in a thin line, his jaw rock hard. He looks a little bit like an assassin for the Godfather, except for how Jake can see a fine sheen of nervous sweat on his forehead. He figures one more jab and Heath’ll be out the door, and pissed or not, smart or not, that’s not how Jake wants this to play out.
“So fine, whatever,” he concedes, dialing back the hostility a notch. “What’re you doing here, anyway?” Not to mention, how did he find him? Jake knows he never said so much as a word about his other job, and definitely not the name of the restaurant.
Heath's shoulders relax a little and he lowers his head, shuffles awkwardly past the other guys, then doesn’t stop coming till he’s only a foot away. Close up, his eyes are jittery and he still looks anxious as all hell, which Jake figures he deserves so he doesn’t do anything more to make it easier.
“I need to talk to you,” Heath says, his voice gruff but steady.
Jake’s mouth twists bitterly. “Dude. Last time you talked to me, you broke up with me. I don’t think there’s anything left to say.” Jake stalks over to the coat rack and yanks his jacket off the hanger, eyeing Heath over his shoulder as he drags it on.
“Yeah, I know, but that was me being stupid,” Heath says, clear enough that their audience can hear him. “I want another chance.”
Jake stares down at the floor, thinking about how hard it must be for Heath to be having this conversation in front of some assholes he doesn’t even know. He also thinks about how he’s spent the last week and a half thinking the same thing, that he’d do most anything for a second chance. Except ask for it, of course. But that’s what Heath’s doing. He has way more to lose than Jake, but he’s here, asking for it, and when Jake finally looks up, he sees something like desperation on Heath’s face. He feels the same goddamned way inside. There’s no way he’s saying no.
Still, it’s a guaranteed clusterfuck if they let it happen. He needs to make sure Heath gets that. “Nothing’s changed, man. You weren’t satisfied before. You won’t be now.”
Heath sighs and drops his head, body language screaming defeat, and Jake’s insides go tight because he wasn’t prepared for him to come here like this and then give up so easily. He’s trying to figure out how to backtrack without coming across as a total loser when Heath takes a step closer, lowers his voice.
“I get that you’re done, and I respect that, but I need a favor. A couple of them, actually,” he says, shifts his shoulders under the heavy coat. “Give me tonight and Saturday, then if you wanna walk away I’ll never bother you again. I promise.”
“What do you want?” he asks stupidly. Bryan makes a weird coughing noise behind them and Heath’s face turns an odd shade of red, at which point it occurs to Jake that he’s not going to say no, no matter what Heath asks him to do, and they’d all be better off if he asked it in private.
“Yeah, ok, whatever. Let’s go,” he says, grabbing his backpack and giving Heath a push towards the door. “But I got school in the morning, so if you’re planning to tie me up and read me War and Peace or something, you better have the Cliff’s notes.”
Corey and Bryan get a laugh out of that, and Hunter, who sounds almost as relieved as Heath looks, says, “You still want that burger? It’s up at the bar if you do.”
Jake looks at Heath, but he shakes his head. “I thought you might be hungry so I ordered a pizza. We’ll get it on the way home.” He nods towards the exit. “I’ve got a cab waiting outside.”
“Guess I’m set, then. Thanks, dude. Later,” he says, bumps Hunter’s fist as he goes by, waves at the other guys and then leads Heath out the employees’ exit and around to the waiting taxi.