Bad Attitude (16 page)

Jamie tossed his keys from hand to hand as he backed toward the truck, chewing on his tongue as he tried to think of something to say that would put this on familiar ground. Where he didn’t know about Gavin working his ass off for free, without anyone knowing about it, just to try to make things better for complete strangers. Not only that, but he did it in a building filled with the cozy little acceptance of death that freaked Jamie out so much that he was sure Gavin could hear the spike in Jamie’s heart rate. Jamie wasn’t sure if Gavin’s bravery in facing what Jamie couldn’t made Jamie want to thank him or punch him, but Jamie needed to go. Now.

The look of amusement Gavin had been wearing as he watched Jamie back away turned into a smile as the bastard crowded Jamie against the side panel. Hidden between the truck and the building, they weren’t exactly in public, so maybe a kiss wouldn’t be too much of a crazy thing to do here at the edge of O’Donnell Heights. But the way Gavin was rubbing his thigh between Jamie’s legs, and what Jamie wanted to do about it, that would have been better over on West Eager Street by the bars. Jamie deepened the kiss for a second, wanting something in his head besides that smell and the bitter anger that pumped through him at the sight of this building. He twisted his hand in Gavin’s hair and got a good whiff of his shampoo, the leather-and-evergreen smell that was starting to make Jamie’s dick hard all by itself. Gavin’s hand was on the button of Jamie’s jeans and things were getting out of—into—hand. Jamie pushed him away.

“A week’s a long time,” Gavin said, then shrugged. “I forgot. You don’t have any trouble finding someone to suck your cock. But…” Gavin smirked as he leaned in toward Jamie’s ear but kept their hips far apart, “…how many of them do you let fuck you?”

Jamie’s stomach tightened, balls hot, tingling and heavy. Yeah, he’d let Gavin fuck him again, and it had been good. That first morning when they woke up, Gavin’s mouth had wandered from blowing to rimming, and that always made Jamie want to get fucked.

He smiled. “I’ll let you know in a week. Don’t bring the dog.” He turned to get into the truck. Annabelle sat on the driver’s seat, her tail drifting back and forth and a look of hope on her face.

Gavin laughed. “Guess she has other ideas. Take her home. See if you enjoy having her there.”

Jamie ignored the pleading brown eyes and scooped her up to hand her to Gavin. “No thanks. Told you, long-term commitment’s not my thing.” Jamie climbed in. Gavin put a hand on the doorframe.

“How long have you had the truck?”

Jamie glared. “Eleven years.”

Gavin gave him a smug smile.

“Bite me, Montgomery.”

“Maybe next week.”

A week was a long time. More than a week now. Sure Jamie had been without it longer, but he’d gotten used to the regular, really good sex with Gavin, and now they weren’t having it. Jamie could have gone out, could have called an old fuck buddy who was perfectly fine with the boundaries of get off and get gone, but every time he reached for his truck keys or his phone, he seemed to think of something else to do instead.

Tuesday, though, that was it. It was Four-Dollar Absolut night at Hey Sailor, and there would be plenty of absolutely drunk guys to pick from. He was shaved, showered and ready to roll at nine thirty when his phone rang.

“Eli?” Jamie answered cautiously, wary of why the little brat might be calling instead of Quinn.

“Hey, sailor.”

“No, that would be the tamed dick you have at home. I was a Marine, and now it would be ‘Hi, Officer’ except I’m headed—”

“To Four-Dollar Absolut Night at Hey Sailor, duh. But you don’t want to get there too early. Anyone drunk already is going to be puking before you can get him home.”

How Eli knew when Jamie had only made up his mind to go three hours ago wasn’t something he wanted to think about. He just wanted to get laid by someone whose last name wasn’t Montgomery. But the little shit had a point about those quick drunks.

“What can I do for you, Eli?”

“Long time no see and now it’s all business, huh? Exactly what have you been doing with your time? I told Quinn you’d found a steady fuck, but he said you were probably working on your truck or helping your mom clean out the attic.”

They had come to his dad’s funeral, club-rat Eli looking almost surreally conservative in a dark blue suit. Quinn had offered to help pack up anything Mom wanted to get rid of. She had called the day after Billy went back to Nevada and insisted they take out dad’s old recliner.

It had almost been too much, but Quinn had been there. Had offered to store it in his garage in case she changed her mind or Jamie decided he wanted to keep it. Having friends like them didn’t suck. And he had blown them off in favor of fucking Gavin’s brains out as much as possible.

“Did you bet him?” Jamie asked. Eli was competitive to the tips of his thick dark eyelashes.

“Let this inside information be our little secret and you can spill the beans next Wednesday.”

“Why, what’s next Wednesday?”

“Birthday party. Come hungry. I’m making two pans of lasagna.”

“Quinn’s is in August.”

“Not for Quinn. For my friend with the white-blond hair. Silver.”

“Ah. Sloppy blowjob, too much teeth.”

“I don’t think that will be an issue at the party, but if there are some exotic birthday traditions you know about, please, I’m all ears.”

“I’m not spanking him. And he’ll slobber on the cake.”

“He doesn’t have a family, you know. They tossed him out the way mine did.”

“And I’ll agree that sucks, much like his oral technique, but what’s that got to do with me?”

“Oh, I get it.”

Jamie rubbed the back of his neck. He could see the edges of an Eli-style trap, but he walked in anyway. “Get what?”

“Why you don’t want to come over. Why you haven’t been over in weeks. Why you would turn down an invitation for food you don’t have to cook or pay for.”

Fuck this, Jamie wasn’t going to stand in his own doorway all night. He put Eli on speaker and went out to his truck. “You’re not a bad cook, Eli, but getting laid—”

“You still need to eat—something other than him. So, I’m betting you are so smitten—”

“Smitten?”

“Yeah, like you’re walking around all—”

“I know what the fuck smitten means, Eli,” Jamie growled.

“Oooo. Sexy daddy voice.”

“Save that for your daddy before I tell him you’re trying to get in my pants.”

“Mmmmm.” Eli laughed. “That’ll be fun. So I’ll see you at seven?”

“Wait, what?”

“And bring the guy you’re not smitten with.”

“We’re just fucking.”

“So, bring your fuck. I want to meet him. I mean if it’s true—”

“If what’s true? I told you. It’s just sex.” Jamie didn’t want anyone getting ideas.

“Uh-huh,” Eli said in a way that seemed unconvinced. “What I meant was if what you’ve been boasting about between your legs is true, I want to see if he’s all bowlegged.”

“I never said I was coming to the birthday party.” Jamie started the truck, drowning out whatever Eli had to say to that.

“Even your truck sounds all toppy badass on the phone,” was what he heard when the rumble subsided. “So you’re not coming because you’re scared to show your frequent fuck, or you’re too good to hang with us after schmoozing the mayor?”

It was a miracle Quinn ever took his cock out of that boy’s mouth. Jamie would have made him wear a ball gag. “Fine.”

“And you won’t tell Quinn.”

“No, full speed ahead on whatever sexual coercion you have in mind.”

“See, you’re kind of a sailor.”

“Eli, tell me this isn’t going to be some suburban-housewife, dinner-party thing.”

“Please. As if I have no better taste than to mimic the breeders who tossed me and Silver out on our so-very-attractive asses. And that’s seven G.S.T.”

“Huh?”

“Gay Standard Time. Which means if you’re there before seven thirty, I’ll put your nuts in a vise. See you then. Oh, fuck someone hot at Hey Sailor for me.”

Before Jamie could get in a dig about Eli being bored with stay-at-home Quinn, Eli hung up.

Jamie cursed out the empty air and drove to the multiplex in Halethorpe to catch the latest spy movie.

By the time he left work on Wednesday, all Jamie could think about was how good it was going to be to get his cock into Gavin. It felt like the longest dry spell in his life instead of eight days. He told himself that meant it would only be better tonight when they got back to Jamie’s house. Jamie couldn’t decide what he wanted first. Gavin was all his favorite flavors on one menu.

Maybe they wouldn’t make it to Benjy’s. They could go Saturday. There’d be live music then.

Seeing his phone light up with a text from Gavin made Jamie smile. Then his back and shoulders tightened. If Gavin was blowing him off, in the sense of not blowing Jamie tonight, he was going to go out and nail the first guy who made eye contact with him at Grand Central.

I’m outside. I could play designated driver tonight.

Jamie had been drunk enough to be stupid about three times in his life, and all of those happened before his twenty-fifth birthday. He liked a beer, even a few beers, and he could hold it. But he didn’t like drinking. The fact that he turned down whiskey was the only thing that made his dad call him a pansy.

Jamie tapped out,
I don’t drink. Park it by my truck in the alley
.

His phone lit up with Gavin’s
Ok
before Jamie could slide it into his jacket. He could almost see Gavin’s eye roll.

Gavin’s broad shoulders and lean hips climbing into the truck reminded Jamie that if Gavin hadn’t texted, they could already be having sex on the couch. Usually Jamie liked that Gavin didn’t fill the air with chitchat, but right now the quiet seemed to be another way for Gavin to smirk at him.

Jamie snapped out, “Yeah, I don’t drink because I’m a control freak. Whatever. You like it enough when we fuck.”

Gavin sounded bored, as usual. “Well, if you’re big enough to admit your faults, I suppose I can admit that yes, I do in fact like it when we fuck.”

Jamie almost laughed then caught himself. “You can if you want, drink, I mean. I don’t give a shit.”

“There was beer in your refrigerator.” Gavin’s voice was neutral, no question in it, but Jamie heard it anyway.

“Yeah. I like beer. I’m not strictly sober or anything. But I don’t like being drunk.”

“Isn’t there a saying about not trusting a man who doesn’t drink or smoke? Is there something behind it, similar to you quitting cigarettes?”

He remembered Gavin at the hospice saying, “Is this where your father died?” like Jamie owed Gavin the lowdown on Jamie’s life story.

“Not everything has some big drama behind it. It’s not like I got drunk enough to fall off the Key Bridge or anything.”

In the awkward second after he spit that out, Jamie didn’t hear anything but the echo of his own words. He wasn’t touching Gavin, the cab was plenty big enough, but Jamie felt the body next to his tighten, contract, everything so still it was like Gavin wasn’t there anymore. The seconds of silence got more painful, squeezing tight around Jamie’s back and throat as he realized Jamie needed Gavin to be here, with him, wanted him to be more than a convenient and responsive fuck. Right now Jamie wanted Gavin to mock him, come back at him, anything but pull this disappearing-behind-Teflon act.

“Shit. I shouldn’t have said that.” Jamie cleared his throat and said more forcefully, “Sorry.”

“It’s hard to take offense when I was apparently drunk enough to fall off the Key Bridge. You don’t have to tender an apology to get laid. I thought it was well-established that you didn’t have to like me to—”

Jamie’d had it with this quiet martyr act. “For fuck’s sake, how the hell can anyone figure out how to feel—you always act like you don’t give a shit, like it’s all such a bore. Christ, the only time it seems I’m not wasting your time is when my dick’s in you.”

“You’re not wasting my time.”

“Yeah, that sounds really convincing.” Jamie tried to mimic Gavin’s bored-sounding voice. What the hell did it take to get something real out of the guy? How could Jamie know if he was the only one interested in more than sex? So what if Jamie had only realized it himself a few seconds ago. Gavin was the smart one, the one who had all those expensive-sounding words to throw around.

“Is there something else I’m expected to say?” Gavin asked.

“Fuck if I know.” Jamie jammed the truck into a spot a block and a half from the bar. “Say anything you want.”

Jamie was staring straight ahead, but he felt Gavin look over at him.

“I have never been bored around you.” Gavin’s voice was quiet, but there was an emphasis there.

Maybe that was supposed to mean something, but Jamie was too pissed off at not getting a decent response to want to figure it out. After he swung down, he checked the safety on his sidearm and the holster. He hated carrying in a bar, only slightly less than he hated not carrying in a bar. If it ever came to drawing, things were probably an unfixable Charlie Foxtrot anyway.

He tugged his jacket back in place and checked his wallet, which wasn’t in his pocket. Any of his pockets. He popped the door release and checked under the seat, crawled in and checked everywhere, though he knew where the fuck his wallet was.

It was the first thing he put in his locker and the last thing he took out. Except tonight, he’d been thinking about the way Gavin’s eyes got dark and green when Jamie fucked him, and he’d slammed the locker to distract himself from getting hard right there in the locker room.

Gavin peered in through the passenger door. “What did you lose?”

“Not lost. Left my fucking wallet at work.”

“Well, I have m—”

“I’m sure you have plenty to share, Uncle Moneybags, but I need my wallet.”

“Think you’re going to get carded for being underage?”

“Yeah, that’s really funny.” Jamie climbed back in.

Gavin swung up on his side of the truck. “Uncle Moneybags?”

“The little guy in the tuxedo in the Monopoly game. I’m guessing that wouldn’t be an exciting game for rich kids.” Jamie pulled out of the spot and started driving around the block.