Family Man (5 page)

“Jazz. Swing.
Real
music. Three notes by Coltrane, and this crap would back off in shame.”

His answer gave me an idea that was too good to pass up. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

The look he gave me was almost like panic, and I smiled. “I don’t mean, ‘your place or mine?’ I just mean, let’s go someplace better.”

“Where?” he asked, looking relieved.

“Trust me.”

I took a minute to pull out my phone and send a text to Tara.
Leaving. Be safe.

Her
WTF?
came back to me in record time—I’d never left the club with anybody before—but I ignored it.

I led him out of the hot, loud club into the cool night air. The sidewalks were still wet, but the rain had stopped. The only part of the music we could hear from outside was the thumping bass. My ears were ringing. “You mind walking?” I felt like my voice was way too loud.

“I don’t mind.”

We rounded the corner and went a few blocks. “You know where you’re going?” he asked as we walked.

“Of course. I’ve never been in this club before, but I’ve heard about it.”

We reached our destination. No thumping bass here. I opened the door, and smooth jazz flowed out around us, wrapping us up, drawing us in.

Inside, the lights were low—no bright lights or flashing strobes. A few couples were dancing. A lone black man sat on a stool in the corner, playing a sax. The music was sultry, loud enough to be heard, but not so loud you couldn’t hear the person four inches away from you.

I glanced over at Vinnie, and he smiled. His smile was cute. Sort of smartass and self-deprecating at the same time—like he was daring the world to take him seriously. It made him seem years younger.

“Better,” he said.

We found a table near the dance floor, and the waiter didn’t bat an eye when I only ordered a Coke. Vinnie ordered a vodka tonic, and then we sat there, not knowing what to say. When I realized he would wait until doomsday before breaking the ice, I fished around until I found something that felt safe to talk about. “Sorry about the idiots in the restaurant the other day. I made them tip Marcie well.”

It was a little astounding how much this subject relaxed him, and I can’t say I minded the look of approval I got either. “They didn’t seem like your usuals.” His tone hinted heavily that I generally had more taste.

“Group project,” I explained.

He made a face and shook his head. “They’re still doing that shit? I figured they’d quit once they saw what a mess it was.”

“Are you kidding? A week’s worth of group project is that much less shit for professors to grade. Plus they get to say they’re teaching us team building and crap like that.”

Vinnie rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Well, you have my condolences.”

He tipped his glass toward mine, and I met him in a toast. We drank, our gazes tangled in a moment of camaraderie. I didn’t want it to end, so I gave him another conversation prompt. “What is it you do? I know you don’t work for the restaurant anymore, because they’re always carrying on about how ‘If Vinnie was here, this wouldn’t have happened.’”

He raised a dubious eyebrow into his hairline. “That I didn’t know. This recent, this carrying on?”

I tried to think. “Yeah, I think so. Last week was the last time it came up.”

He grimaced. “They’re probably getting ready to gang up on me again to come back. Thanks for the intel.”

“But what is it you do now?”

“Plumbing.” He took a drink. “I work for my uncle up in Northbrook. Parino Brothers Plumbing.” I tried not to be shocked, but I must have failed because he laughed and waggled both eyebrows. “Hey, somebody’s got to unclog the toilets.”

“But do you
like
that?” I pressed. It was probably rude, but I knew he’d gone to not just college but graduate school, that he had an MBA and used to do accounting for his family’s restaurants. Now he fished out drains?

He shrugged. “It’s okay. Pay’s good, and I get out and about.” He gave me a sideways smile that made my stomach turn over. “Haven’t you heard my family gossiping about how I’m the one who can’t settle down on anything?”

I had. Vince always had a new job, and he’d been married three times, unless I’d missed an ex-wife in there. “Whatever makes you happy, I guess.”

This comment made his smile die, and he became focused on turning his drink casually in his hand. “Not sure about that. Do my best, though.” Clearing his throat, he set his glass down. “What about you? You’re in school, right? What for?”

“English major. I originally wanted to be pre-law, but at the rate I’m having to go, I’ll be ninety when I get out. I thought about getting an education endorsement, though my advisor is trying to talk me into political science.” I shrugged and twirled the straw in my Coke. “Right now I’ll be happy to get far enough into a degree to be able to graduate. I’m tired of school.”

Vinnie frowned at me. “How old are you, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Twenty-five. And yes, I know it’s a long time to be in school.”

To my surprise, Vinnie only nodded. “You’re taking care of your grandmother and mother, though, and you work full-time, right?”

“More than. I have two jobs. Barista at Full Moon, the coffee shop up on Racine just north of the interstate, and waiter at The Rose.” I was ready for his look of disdain, and I had to bite back a smile. “Hey, we can’t all be born into the Fierro clan.”

“Have you ever applied at Emilio’s, though?”

“When I was looking, there wasn’t an opening. Plus, I hate to be rude, but the tips are higher at The Rose. All those lovely tourists coming out of the Loop, grateful to get a table.”

“The food’s terrible. They only survive because that bastard has city councilors in his pocket.” He ironed out his scowl and held up a hand in surrender. “But you’re right. The tips have to be killer.”

“If it helps, the chef’s an ass. Mostly because I won’t blow him in the back room, I’m pretty sure.” Too late I realized I’d accidentally shined a spotlight on the elephant in the middle of our table. I winced. Vinnie slouched and took a heavy hit from his drink. He wouldn’t look me in the eye anymore, and it made me sad.

This time, though, it was Vinnie who brought us back into conversation. “So you come up here a lot?”

“To Boystown? Not often if I can help it. Don’t get me wrong. It’s a great neighborhood, but mostly I see the bars, which I could do without.” This got me the eyebrow again, and another one of those sexy little smiles. “What?” I demanded, trying to tamp down the butterflies that smile unleashed in my belly.

“You’re young. You’re cute. Yet you could do without going to bars full of guys wanting to hook up with you?”

He thought I was cute? My butterflies went crazy, and I focused all my attention on my drink. “I feel like I should tell you something.” I concentrated on trying to spear my thin red cocktail straw through one of the round ice cubes in my Coke, debating how to tell him I was a virgin. “I don’t have sex.”

“What?” Vinnie asked, laughing. “Not ever?”

I glanced up at him, trying not to be bothered by the amused disbelief in his eyes. “I just mean, I don’t sleep with guys on the first date.”

His laughter died fast. “This isn’t a date.”

He said it like a threat, as if he had to set the record straight—and I do mean
straight
—and I laughed. His protests actually took a great deal of pressure off me. “All the more reason I won’t sleep with you tonight.”

I was glad when he smiled again. “Deal,” he said.

It was strange how freeing that word was.

I’d learned over the years to be so careful about my interactions with men, lest they misunderstand my intentions, but it wasn’t as if I was opposed to sex or to fooling around. I wasn’t immune to the calling of my own hormones. I woke up horny like any healthy male. The problem was that with most guys, the line between flirting and fucking was razor thin. But Vince wasn’t most guys. He wasn’t some stranger I’d barely met. I’d known him for most of my life. I knew I could trust him.

Suddenly, I felt I could throw caution to the wind. Having the boundaries firmly in place and a partner I trusted opened up the playing field considerably.

I reached over and put my hand on his thigh, and he raised one eyebrow questioningly at me. “No sex,” I said, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t flirt, right?”

He stared hard at me for a long second, like I was some bridge he couldn’t decide if he wanted to jump off of. Eventually he said, his voice low and rough, “I guess not.”

My heart went into overdrive. It made me bold. It was a new feeling for me, and I embraced it. I had nothing to lose.

I moved into his lap, straddling his thighs so I could face him. His hands were on my legs, but it wasn’t as if he was touching me on purpose. It was more like that was the safest place he could find to put them. His guards were back up in full. “This doesn’t feel like flirting.”

“Then what does it feel like?”

“Like you’re coming on to me.” He said the words like an accusation.

“Aren’t they same thing?” He didn’t move as I undid the top button on his shirt. “We already said no sex.” I undid the next one. “Relax.” There wasn’t much hair on his chest. Just smooth, dark skin, and I caressed it with my fingertips. I traced his collarbone. I put my arms around his neck and leaned closer to kiss his cheek, which was stubbly, and then the side of his neck. “God, you smell good.” It was a spicy scent—some kind of aftershave—mixed with the clean, soapy smell of his hair. I kissed him again, below his ear, and I heard his breath catch in his throat.

He clenched his hands. His fingers dug into my thigh. “Trey—”

I knew he was going to tell me to stop, and I cut him off, leaning back a bit so I could look in his eyes. “Dance with me.”

The request surprised him, and his eyebrows went up. “Are you serious?”

“Of course.” I eyed the couples on the floor—it was nothing like the club scene. The couples here were arm in arm, cheek to cheek, some of them talking quietly, some of them kissing, all of them looking like they were in love. I envied them. They were a mix of orientations too, which I hoped would calm him.

I turned back to Vinnie. “Nobody’s ever danced with me like this before.”

“But we’re both guys.”

I laughed. “No kidding.”

It took him a second to react. Maybe he was deciding whether or not to be offended, but then he smiled. “I guess.”

I resisted the urge to clap like a silly kid, even though I wanted to. I stood up, and he let me take his hand and lead him to the dance floor. I led him to an empty space between the swaying couples and turned to face him.

“This is weird,” he said.

“No, it’s not.” I stepped closer, sliding my left hand around his waist as I put my right hand in his. “I assume you want to lead?”

“That’s what I’m used to.” He put his arm around me, although he didn’t hold me close. It was like those dances in junior high, where you were supposed to keep six inches of open space between you and your partner. “Your left hand is supposed to be on my shoulder.”

“Says who?” Before he could answer, I closed the distance between us. I put my head on his shoulder, my nose against his neck so I could smell his aftershave. “Quit being an uptight prick and dance with me.”

He made an angry noise low in his throat, almost like he was growling at me, but he didn’t pull away, and we started to move.

The dancing part turned out to be easy. The part about not being uptight took a bit longer, but by the time the next song began, he was doing better. He stopped being so stiff, and more importantly he didn’t pull away when I tightened my arm around him and melted into him. I shut my eyes and let myself go. His body was so strong and solid against mine. I could feel him breathing. He was taller then me, and when he turned his head toward me, his warm breath tickled my ear. His hand moved slowly up and down my back as we swayed.

How many times had I wondered how it would feel to have a man hold me like this? It was wonderful. I thought I might be in heaven. I held him tighter, concentrating on how close his lips were to my ear. I wished he would kiss me there, just once. I slid my left hand out from behind him, up his chest and around his neck. I tangled my fingers into his thick black hair. I tilted my head back, urging his head down a bit, guiding his lips to the wonderfully sensitive flesh below my ear.

He didn’t kiss me, but his breathing became heavier. He held me against him. He had an erection. The bulge in his pants pushed against my groin.

Any blood that might have been in my brain fled quickly to parts further south.

“Oh Jesus,” he moaned, and suddenly he was trying to jerk away from me. “I need to go.”

I held on to him though, refusing to let him bolt. I tilted my head back to look up at him. I could see something like panic on his face, although he wouldn’t actually meet my eyes. He seemed to be looking everywhere else.

“No you don’t. Dance with me some more.”

He finally met my eyes, and even in the low light, I could see the color rising on his cheeks. “I can’t…”

“We’re just dancing.”

“It doesn’t feel like ‘just dancing’ anymore.”