Fugly (2 page)

I was impressed by the newcomer, but I wasn’t particularly interested in him. Men that stunning were usually one of three things: soullessly vain, stupid, or taken.

Sometimes they were all three.

“
There’s
my bonbon,” Todd murmured.

Fallon waved a finger in front of his face. “Uh-uhh. No dibs allowed.”

As Mr. Wow moved in the direction of the bar, Jake was already pushing back from the table. Refusing to be denied
their
chance, Todd and Fal also rose. I stayed put.

The tall man who’d been sitting behind us returned from the restroom as my companions hustled down the testosterone trail. He’d no sooner resumed his seat than he, too, did a double-take…and his gaze went directly to the same gorgeous guy the Hunt Club had targeted. Abruptly, he began to get up from his chair. Then he froze for a second and settled back into it.

His reaction mystified me. He couldn’t see anything of Mr. Wow from this vantage point except his back. As I puzzled over this, I gave the tall man another surreptitious glance. He was smiling as he continued to look toward the bar. My puzzlement deepened.

Nothing further happened. Not for a while, anyway. I idly looked around the dance floor, wondering if I should bother trying to score tonight. Lights dappled the twisting bodies and shone off sweat-glazed faces. I felt as if I were gazing into an aquarium full of sinuous, exotic fish. There were plenty of available men here, but my heart wasn’t into cruising. My heart was already taken, damn the damned thing. Besides, I wasn’t exactly what the Foxhole’s patrons would’ve considered a hottie.

I must’ve been keeping my peripheral vision trained on the bar, because I saw Todd and Fallon almost simultaneously make their moves. Jake had already engaged Mr. Wow in conversation—a predictable development, since he was a smooth talker. Todd, who didn’t have the gift of gab, opted for a more direct approach. He put a hand over Mr.

Wow’s hand just as Mr. Wow slid his wineglass across the bar for a refill. The gesture obviously meant
I’ll catch this one. And, by the way, I’d love to get naked with you. Just
check out the muscles of my forearm if you need persuading.

And then Fallon tossed the shit into the fan.

Jake was standing on Mr. Wow’s left, and Todd was seated on Mr. Wow’s right. Fal stood just behind him. While the pretty man’s attention was divided between Jake’s talk and Todd’s hand, Fal slyly rubbed and cupped the guy’s ass. Mr. Wow jerked around. He didn’t look particularly angry, but he did say something. I wished I could’ve heard what it was.

At that moment, a chair scraped sharply on my left.

The tall guy had obviously been watching my predatory friends. Eyes narrowed and jaw set, he glowered at the scene. Thank goodness he remained seated. Gradually, his attitude relaxed.

My curiosity was royally piqued now, so I inched my chair toward his. “Excuse me,”

I said, sounding deferentially hesitant. Such an approach seemed wise. This man was the polar opposite of a pussy. Not a leather-clad bear, just tough as nails. Really big ones.

When he turned his head to regard me, he looked both imperious and, strangely enough, receptive. I had the immediate impression he was very strong-willed but not mean-spirited.

I moved closer so we could better hear one another. “Do you happen to know that good-looking man at the bar, the one my friends are fawning over?”

The left corner of his mouth lifted toward a smile. “Yes, I know him.”

The dude was even more striking up close. I began to feel a little spellbound. He had a deep voice with a hint of roughness, and his eyes were mesmerizing. The irises scintillated—that’s the only way I can describe them—and they seemed subtly to change color as he looked at me.

I would’ve bet anything he was the perfect storm in bed.

He watched me patiently, probably wondering what the hell my point was.

“Seems you have a low tolerance for hound dogs,” I said, only because that thought was near the top of my mind. Of course I couldn’t voice my uppermost thought, which vaguely had to do with putting my hand between his legs.

For a split second I was on the verge of either creaming my jeans or pissing myself.

Goddamn.

I nearly fell off my chair when he started laughing.

“I guess I don’t hide it very well,” he said. His subsequent smile was genial, but it didn’t blunt the drill of his gaze.

I cleared my throat. “Anyway, I just wanted to apologize for my friends’ behavior.”

No further explanation was necessary, since he’d obviously been watching and listening to the four of us.

“It isn’t up to you to apologize,” he said. “They’re not children and you’re not their father.”

I couldn’t argue the point. “So, uh…if you know that man at the bar, why haven’t you joined him?” I laughed nervously. “I guarantee your presence would be a deterrent.”

His smile broadened for an instant, and then his gaze shifted to the pretty man. He looked wistful. “I don’t often get to sit back and just watch him interact with people.

It’s…interesting. And helpful.”

Curious explanation. “Helpful how?”

It seemed hard for him to turn his attention back to me. “As immunization.” He chuckled quietly, looked down, and shook his head.

I didn’t want to keep pressing him. His motives were none of my business. “Just don’t take my friends too seriously,” I said. “Your date—”

The man’s gaze jumped to my face. “He isn’t just a casual date.”

“I’m sorry. Your partner—”

“He’s more than that, too.”

I didn’t want to risk pissing him off by making more wrong guesses. “I was just going to say…he’s really exceptionally beautiful, and—”

The man shocked me into silence by rolling up his eyes.

“What, you don’t think so?” I asked.

“Of course I think so. I’m just sick of hearing about it. And I’m sick of people trying to score a piece of it.”

Uh-oh. I’d inadvertently nudged his sore spot. “That’s understandable,” I said, trying to placate him. “But my friends are just—”

His face tightened. “Vain? Condescending? Shallow?”

I was
going
to say my friends were young, single, gay men who weren’t too much different from other young, single, gay men, so their interest in extraordinary male specimens was completely natural and shouldn’t be held against them. Instead, though, I winced. The tall man didn’t just resent the Hunt Club for sniffing around his lover; he was finding fault with their very characters.

I wasn’t sure how to counter his assessment. It was damned accurate. He’d taken in everything Fal, Jake, and Todd had said and drawn logical conclusions.

“I guess your description fits,” I said. “Sort of.”

The tall man made a scoffing sound. “‘Sort of,’ my ass. How can you stand all that narcissistic bullshit? You seem like a decent guy.” He cast another look toward the bar.

Whatever he saw didn’t seem to upset him—too much, anyway—and for that I was profoundly grateful. “Just listening to their snotty comments made me want to smack them into next year.”

There was no doubt in my mind he could do it. I tried to explain my tolerance. “I think of them as…victims.”

The man lifted his eyebrows and gave me a dubious look. “Oh, come on. Save it for Oprah.”

“I’m serious.

“Okay, what are they victims
of
, pray tell?” The question was a challenge.

I’d actually given this issue some thought, so at least I didn’t have to wing an answer. I, too, had trouble dealing with the Hunt Club when they were in bitch mode. But I’d also been around them when they weren’t.

“Maybe ‘victims’ is too melodramatic,” I said. “Maybe
products
is more appropriate.

Products of unresolved crap from their pasts. Maybe products of a society that places more emphasis on surface than substance.”

Eyes narrowed, the man studied me as he considered these possibilities. “It seems to me,” he said conclusively, “these products need to be recalled.”

I had no idea what he meant, but it was clear his tolerance for bad behavior hadn’t improved any. I lobbed my Hail Mary pass. “I think they’ll turn around once they’re finished sowing their wild oats and settle down.” Oh, Christ, now I sounded like their grandpa.

The guy let out a single, skeptical laugh. “Buddy, that’s not going to happen until the mirror, mirror on the wall gives them a major adjustment in perspective.” He finished his drink and got up. “And I’d say that adjustment is overdue. They might act like adolescents, but they
are
adults.”

He stared in the direction of his significant other. Within a few seconds, he smiled and lifted a hand. I too looked toward the bar. Sure enough, the breathtaking man who’d monopolized so much attention was smiling too. He immediately turned away from the trough and pushed through the crowd.

I watched as the two separated lovers came together. They kept smiling and had eyes only for each other. The pretty man’s color was high. He virtually glowed with pleasure.

“Hi, baby,” the tall man murmured as he folded his sweetheart into his arms.

They kissed, slowly and carefully, as they caressed each other’s face and hair and back. I couldn’t stop looking at them. Of course I’d seen dozens of men kiss before, but here was a passion so abundant, it didn’t allow for the merest trace of hesitation or embarrassment as it spilled into the room.

I felt it whisper against me—a love most people could only dream about. And although Jake, Todd, and Fallon were light years away from comprehending such a bond, they’d managed to cheapen it.

“How long have you been here?” the pretty man asked as they drew apart.

“Long enough to watch you get pawed.” The tall man tenderly touched his lover’s face.

“Didn’t you find it amusing? I did.”

“You have a strange sense of humor.”

“You’re not going to do anything to them, are you?”

“Nothing that’ll make a scene or get me arrested. I’m a
reformed
barbarian, you know.”

The pretty man pulled back a few inches more. “I don’t think you’re reformed. I think you’re still in recovery.”

The exchange was full of affectionate humor. Neither man had really stopped smiling. It was obvious they doted on each other.

“So what are you going to do?” asked the pretty man. “Because I can tell you’ve got
something
planned.”

A wily smile spread across the tall man’s face.

“Oh shit, Jackson. Not
that
stuff.”

“Hey, I haven’t worked it in a while.” The man named Jackson dipped forward for another kiss. “You know the saying: Use it or lose it. Besides, it should benefit everybody concerned.”

I continued to stare as the couple left the platform and moved toward the dance floor.

Then I looked for the Hunt Club. They were no longer at the bar, so I assumed they were on the prowl.

The lights dimmed. Snow Patrol’s “Chasing Cars” drifted out of the sound system. I glimpsed the intertwined lovers dancing in the middle of the crowd. Although they weren’t moving much, there was a halo of space around them, an enchanted circle.

They were inviolable.

Jake suddenly appeared on the platform, startling me out of my fugue.

“Looks like you all struck out,” I said.

“It confirms one of my assumptions—that only married
straight
men are seducible.”

“They’re married?”

“So sayeth Beauty.” Jake looked over his shoulder. “Who was the Beast? I saw you talking to him.”

I shook my head and shrugged.

“So you struck out too.”

“No. I didn’t even bother stepping up to the plate.”
And I’m glad I didn’t. Because
I
think he’s going to open a can of something on your asses.

Damned if I knew what, or how he planned on doing it, but the thought still gave me chills.

Before his first coaching session of the day got under way, Fallon called Jake from the Stage Right Academy’s parking lot. He didn’t want to call Todd, because Todd was probably at the funeral home, pumping chemicals through some stiff’s circulatory system. Besides, Jake could give him an update.

“You with a client?” he asked when Jake answered.

“No, but I have an editor on the landline. Hold on a minute.”

Fallon tilted to the right and stretched upward to glance at himself in the rearview mirror. Those rough, red patches on his face weren’t very well concealed by foundation.

He’d found out
that
much the last few times he’d gone clubbing. By the end of each evening, he’d felt like Freddy freakin’ Krueger with a manicure. Too bad none of the men he’d asked to dance had gotten around to looking at his nails.

“How’s the ick?” Fal immediately asked when Jake returned.

“Please don’t call it that. Fish get ick, not people.”

“Yeah, well, don’t bet on it. Have you heard anything more from your doctor?”

“Same shit,” Jake said. Papers shuffled faintly in the background. “She can’t see anything. Even if I put my hand
right on
the spots, even if I tell her that other people have noticed them, she still swears there’s nothing there. Now she’s suggesting I see a shrink.”

Fal dropped against the back of the car seat. “At least your doctor isn’t trying to make money off you. Mine gave me the same ‘I don’t see or feel anything’ line then wanted to run a batch of tests. They would’ve probably set me back a grand, at least. And I don’t have insurance.”

“Insurance isn’t that much of a blessing,” Jake said. “My deductible’s in the thousands, and the company still jerks me around any which way they can. That’s why I told my doctor right off the bat, ‘Don’t run me through a gamut of tests if you don’t have a clue what you’re looking for.’ So she got huffy and told me to see a psychiatrist.”

“What about Todd?” Fallon asked.

“His doctor still thinks it could be an allergy to latex, since Todd wears those gloves so much of the time. But that doesn’t make sense. The rash isn’t on his hands. What’s more, he’s never had a problem with condoms.”

“And it doesn’t explain why
we
have the same skin condition.”