Briefcase Booty (3 page)

Before he could say something, the guy blew a raspberry. And Loukas immediately blew one right back. It was so cute.

The young one opened the door and held it so he could step through as Loukas and the older pirate kept up the raspberry blowing conversation.

“Wait! Conto, stop him!”

A hand clamped on his shoulder. “Wait up, there. Lulu wants a word, I think.”

Turning around, Peter saw a familiar skull bandanna heading through the crowds and tables towards him: the flying pirate. The man jogged up to them and skidded to a stop.

His flying pirate was about his height but much more built, and up close he wore thick smudge of black eye paint. There was something familiar about him, though.

Solid shoulder muscles led down to wide pecs with small brown pebbled nipples. There wasn’t just a six pack below that; there was a whole eight, with a deep chiseled V on the hips until all the muscle disappeared under the faded brown leather breeches.

One of the other pirates coughed and Peter realized he had been standing there gawping. And checking out the flying pirate as if the man was an all-you-can-eat buffet.

“Here. I think your son dropped this,” the flying pirate said with a smile that made Peter’s breath hitch.

The man he’d been ogling thankfully either didn’t notice his staring or was polite enough not to mention it. Wow. What was wrong with him? He’d never reacted like this to a man before.

Shaking his head, he managed to concentrate on what the man was holding. Okay, the man was officially perfect. In the hand of the god before him was the bright green-and-pink, eye-patched parrot, complete with the soggy, chewed, wooden leg.

Loukas threw his weight forward, and Peter had to drop the bags he was holding to keep a safe grip on him.
Little terror.
“Thank you, he would have made me pay for not finding it later,” he admitted with a smile.

His pirate—and he really needed to stop thinking of him as that—smiled back. The man laughed, stepped closer, smoothed Loukas’ brown hair back and gave him the parrot.

“Thank you,” Peter repeated, as his little son cooed.

“Let me walk you to your car?” His pirate grabbed something red off a hook by the door. Peter couldn’t tell what it was until the man put it on. It was a red waistcoat with frayed edges and a hole here or there. It completed the sexy pirate look perfectly.

Licking his lips, Peter tried to think of a reason to say no but nothing came to mind. “Umm, sure.” It wasn’t that he didn’t like the guy; clearly he was nice, and certainly hot, but it was eerie to be attracted to another man.

Picking up his bags, his pirate showed him out of the door and they headed towards the car park. “So why are you leaving early?” the man asked. “Us pirates not exciting enough for you?”

Peter snapped his head around ready to deny it and say how wonderful everything he saw was, when he noticed the guy was grinning. “Don’t tease. I thought it was amazing, but Loukas wasn’t a fan of the cannons.”

“Oh man, I’m sorry about that. Our regular sound-guy called in sick, and the replacement is a bit of a douche. The cannons aren’t usually that loud. If you come back next week, Carren will sort you out with a good table.”

Peter wasn’t a homophobe, far from it. As the saying went, some of his best friends were gay—or at least the people who used to be his friends. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t a little terrified inside that he wanted to touch the man.

They walked to the car park in relative silence until he remembered where his car was. “I’m just over here.”

Then he realized he’d never asked the pirate’s name. “I’m really sorry I didn’t get your name. What you did on the silks, it was amazing, and I’ve never seen anything like that. I’m Peter Sutcliff, and this is my little boy Loukas” he introduced, with a nod and a smile to his son.

“Okaaaaay. So I’m going to go put Loukas in his car seat now,” he said to fill the awkward silence.

“Peter Sutcliff who used to have a tree-house, and whose mom made then best cookies ever?”

Now he was the one in staring in shock. “Yeah,” he drew the word out.

His pirate put the bags down next to his car and then pulled off the bandana. “Don’t tell me I’ve changed that much in twenty years,” the man teased with a wink.

This time, when Peter looked at the man, he tried to see past all the pirate paraphernalia and face-paint. The pirate’s hair was pale blond, with a few honey-colored strands here and there. He had green eyes that Peter had to admit looked really familiar, but he still couldn’t place the face.

The man grinned widely, showing off perfectly white, straight teeth. And a half moon dimple on the right side. It was the dimple that kicked Peter’s brain into gear.

“Luka?”

“Ding-ding, we have a winner.”

“Luka,” he whispered again. Peter couldn’t believe it was really him.

Luka ducked his head and brushed some lint off the waistcoat before meeting his gaze. “I pinky-swear. It’s me, Peter.”

His son was watching them with wide eyes darting back and forth, obviously feeling something was going on but not understanding what it was.

Peter didn’t even have to think about what to do next. He secured Loukas with one arm, and with the other he reached out and pulled Luka in for a hug. It must have been twenty years since he’d last seen his best friend.

“I missed you so much, Luka,” he breathed, trying to press his face into Luka’s hair and breathe deeply. Yeah, his friend still smelled like green tea and mints. He must still be drinking that tea his mom used to make them both drink when Peter went for sleepovers.

Hell,
he
could probably do with some about now.

When they separated Peter looked at the man with new eyes. The little boy he knew had grown up to be a damn impressive-looking man. Gone were the big ears and braces and thin arms.

“I missed you too, Peter.” They stared at each other, smiling and taking in everything about each other, just as they’d done the first time they met

“Daaaaaa!”

Loukas’s screech broke the moment, and they laughed. “I really should get him home,” Peter said reluctantly. Now he’d found Luka, he didn’t want to chance looking away and his best friend disappearing again.

“Yeah, I guess. Can I get your number, or something? I can borrow one of the guys’ phones to call you when I’m crashing at their place,” Luka said with another smile, but Peter could tell the difference now.

The spark didn’t quite reach Luka’s eyes.

And why was Luka crashing somewhere instead of living somewhere?

“I know I don’t have the right to ask, since we haven’t seen each other in twenty years, but why are you crashing at a friend’s? Is everything okay?”

The minute he asked, Luka sort of deflated, shuffled uncomfortably, but didn’t answer.

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer. Let me put Loukas in his seat, and I’ll give you my number.”

Turning away, Peter occupied himself with putting Loukas in the car seat. It was the safest one on the market, but there were about a gazillion ties and fastenings that always managed to get tangled up in knots.

“Before I answer, can I ask you a question?” Luka said quietly.

Peter paused whilst fastening the tangle of clips on the baby seat. He had a pretty good idea what the question was going to be. He was surprised it had taken Luka this long, actually. “Sure.”

“Loukas, his name?”

There it was.

“Yes, I named him after you. You were my best friend before my parents turned out to be total bastards. I don’t speak to them now. I moved out as soon as I was old enough, and haven’t had anything to do with them since,” he defended.

Peter couldn’t stand the thought that Luka might think he’d had something to do with what happened.

He jumped when a hand came to rest on his back.

“I know it wasn’t your fault, Peter. Apart from me not seeing you for twenty years, it worked out for the best. My parents run their own company now.” Luka sounded proud of them.

Peter was, too. Luka’s mom used to work for his father—and his father had tried to blackmail the woman into sleeping with him, despite the fact that it was his son’s best friend’s mother. And just plain wrong.

Bastard.

“But if you moved out young, it does explain why I couldn’t find you.”

Peter was glad Luka couldn’t see his face when he misted up a little. “You looked for me?”

“Of course. Hell, mom would have taken you with us if there had been a way,” Luka said with a thicker accent. Since Luka’s father was from Ireland before he met and married his mother and moved to the US, Luka only had a few twangs and usually only when he was mad.

At least that was how it had been a long time ago.

Peter fastened the last clip in place, and before he could even stand up Loukas was fast asleep. And he still clutched the parrot. Peter’s son was the most important thing in his life. He’d do anything for him.

Which made it all the more hurtful that his own father was so unloving.

“Peter?”

Standing up he opened Loukas’s window a tiny bit and pushed the door quietly shut. “Yes?”

“You really named your son after me?” Even through the face-paint, Peter could see Luka turning pink.

If it wasn’t for the fact that he was blushing too, he might have teased. “Well, I always liked your name, and I knew since we were little that you’d grow up to be a good man, like your dad,” Peter explained, rubbing the back of his neck. “And I missed you.”

“Okay. I guess it’s my turn to answer now. I just broke up with my…boyfriend, and I’m between homes until I can find an apartment.”

Boyfriend, not girlfriend. Luka’s gay?

Peter knew he was doing a good impression of a fish. Shaking himself out of a state of shock, he cleared his throat and nodded. He said the first thing that came into his head. “Were—were you together long?”

Luka looked as if he’d been holding his breath. “A year and a half. He used to be in the show too, but then he got hurt and had to quit. He was a good guy, or at least he was before he got hurt. I caught him cheating in our bed, with my best friend. My
female
best friend.”

It’s a bad idea.

It was too soon, and Peter was too confused to think clearly, but the words came out of his mouth regardless.

“I have a spare room. Two actually, so you could take your pick.”

Luka frowned. “Are you sure, Peter? I could have turned into a psycho or something since you last saw me. I could have married Kayleigh Simpson, for all you know!”

Wow! Awkward.

Forcing a smile on his face, Peter let out a small laugh before coming clean. “Now that
would
be a dumb-ass move. Especially since I married her, and know exactly what kind of coldhearted bitch she is.”

Now it was Luka’s turn to do the fish-face. “Oh my god, you didn’t! Peter come on, tell me you didn’t let her catch you.”

It was meant to be a joke but, whether from lack of sleep or frustration in not knowing why the hell he was attracted to his old best friend, something broke in him. “I was lonely and wanted a family and someone to love,” he said shortly, revealing more than he should.

Irritated that he’d lost his temper he walked around the car and opened the trunk. He threw the bags in, and barely resisted the urge to slam it shut. To be honest, it was only that he couldn’t bear the thought of waking and possibly scaring Loukas that stopped him.

“Holy shit, Peter. I am
so
sorry. It was a joke, I swear. I didn’t even see a wedding ring... Of course you’re married. Well, Kayleigh makes a beautiful baby, anyway.” The apologetic, almost pleading tone in Luka’s voice made Peter turn to face him, and then he wished he hadn’t.

Luka stood just behind him, head down and hands in front of him clutching the scrunched-up bandana.

Now Peter felt guilt.

“No, I’m sorry I snapped. We got divorced when I realized she didn’t love Loukas. You know, one time I found her telling him that he’d ruined everything and that she wished she’d miscarried again?”

“That’s awful! …Again?”

“Why do you think I married her in the first place? She caught me at a low point, and I didn’t say no that time. I didn’t love her, but I love Loukas with everything that I am.” Peter shrugged. Thinking about it now, perhaps he should have pointed Kayleigh toward his father; they were two peas in the same pod.

“Well, at least I know you didn’t dive completely off the deep end, then,” Luka tried to lighten the mood, smirking hopefully.

“No, thank god. The offer of a place to live is still good.” A part of him really didn’t want to just wait until Luka called him to stay in touch.

“If you’re sure? Okay, I’ll accept, then. If you give me your address, I can be there after the show ends,” Luka said, practically bouncing. It was unbelievably weird to see the little boy he’d spent every day with until he was nine in the man he’d been amazed by just a couple of hours ago.

Peter quickly wrote down his address and numbers on the back of a business card he found in his jacket pocket, and handed it over. “I’m really glad I came tonight.”

“Me too.” Luka grinned, and Peter thought he might just make an embarrassment of himself as his penis started to wake up behind his zipper. He got in the car and waved before watching Luka go back inside the theatre.

He sat there for a few more minutes, thinking about everything he’d just learned. And it was only thinking about his ex-wife that made his erection go down.

Leaning his forehead against the steering wheel, Peter groaned.

“I’m in trouble.”

Hours later Peter sat on his couch, nervously tapping his knee.

He’d just gotten a call from Luka, on a friend’s phone apparently, saying he’d be there in half an hour and asking whether Peter wanted him to pick up anything.

As it turned out, he did. The last pack of baby wipes had a broken seal, and the wipes had dried up, so he asked Luka to pick up some more.

This was weird too, how domestic it was, and he could tell by the sound of Luka’s voice that he wasn’t the only one that thought so.