Guys on Top (3 page)

He did his six miles and returned home, the cool breeze drying his sweaty skin, his mood considerably better. After taking a shower and dressing, he turned on some music and made breakfast in his new kitchen. He checked his phone messages as he chewed his egg sandwich, noting a new voice mail. As he listened to it, his teeth clenched.

“Hi Doug, it’s Anna, your landlord? Listen, your brother gave me a call, and he mentioned the problems you’re having with the noise. I’ll give a call to the guys upstairs and tell them to keep it down, and I’m sorry you had to deal with that. They’ve always been so courteous to me, I just don’t know, maybe they weren’t aware that someone moved in there yet. But don’t you worry about it, I’ll speak to them. Take care, hon.”

Doug put the phone down. “Fucking Wyatt. Damn it!”

He dropped the rest of the sandwich on his plate and wiped his hands, his appetite gone suddenly. Wyatt’s meddling had just crossed over into invasive land. Calling the landlord on his behalf! He’d have to have a little talk with Wyatt later when he went over for dinner.

Noises from above drew his attention, and he looked upward. The sound of feet shuffling around, voices raised. He winced, wondering if Anna had already called them.

He heard the creak of the upstairs door, then the sound of feet trampling down the stairs. Doug froze.
Please don’t knock. 

Someone knocked three times on his door, and from the force and volume, it didn’t sound like pleasantries were coming. Reluctantly, Doug climbed out of the kitchen chair and headed into the living room. He was halfway to the door when whoever was there knocked again, but this time it was a full fist slam, making the wooden door rattle.

Doug went still. Another pounding set of knocks came, even harder this time. His temples pulsed, anger boiling up inside him. Who the hell did this douche think he was, pounding on the door like that?

He decided then that he wouldn’t answer it. If the guys upstairs wanted to speak with him, they could do so politely or not at all. This was what he told himself, pushing aside the nagging truth that he was somewhat intimidated by that angry pounding. Not because he feared the neighbors. He was simply wary to further ignite his own anger if someone started shouting at him, ruining his hard earned, post-run bliss. 

Eventually he heard the sound of the knocker retreat back up the stairs, slamming the door as he returned to his own apartment.

“Jesus Christ,” Doug muttered. “Chill the fuck out.” He’d have to deal with the situation eventually, but opted to put it off until he felt more mentally prepared for what was sure to be an awkward altercation.

For the rest of the day he busied himself with the last of his unpacking. As the afternoon edged toward evening, he heard the neighbors’ voices conversing as they went out the back door, then the welcome sound of car engines starting.
Adios, assholes
. He peeked out the front window and watched the blue sports car, which looked like an old Fiat Spider, leave the driveway and speed off down the road. He glimpsed two people inside as they drove off, but there was too much distance to get a good look at the occupants. He moved to his bedroom and peered out back, a strange paranoia urging him to check on his own car.

His car looked fine, still parked in the garage. The neighbors had moved the big blue van into the garage on the other side, having apparently left together in the sports car. With them gone, he began to feel more relaxed, aware now that a vague tension had plagued him all day, since those violent knocks on the door earlier.

Moving to the tiny alcove room at the other end of the house, he lit an incense cone. He’d transformed the small space into a meditation room, and now sat down on a cushion, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

One...one...one...one...

He focused on the mantra, trying to catch and release the invading thoughts that did their best to creep into his mind. He was due at his brother’s house soon. He’d have to find a way to gently but firmly tell Wyatt he was bothered by his interference with the landlord, and to stop trying to wipe Doug’s ass for him. He was a grown man, and sure, he’d had some rough times, but it wasn’t like—

Stop! Stop thinking. Push it aside. Clear the mind. Okay. Here we go. One...one...one...

Of course there was still the problem with the neighbors. There was no doubt now that their first conversation would be an unpleasant one. But what the hell, was it such a big deal to ask for some consideration? They weren’t the only ones in the building, they could at least keep the music down and—

Shut. Up. Concentrate. One...one...one...

 Doug tried to let the mantra take him down, but it just wasn’t working today, he had too much on his mind. He gave up after ten minutes and went into his bedroom to change into something suitable for Wyatt and Beth’s dinner. Digging through his drawers, he pulled out a pair of jeans and tossed them on the bed. He rifled through the closet for a nice button-down shirt, but then abandoned the idea and decided on a black tee. It was only dinner at Wyatt’s, and Doug was still technically on vacation, he didn’t want to be trapped in a stuffy shirt all night.

The arrival of spring had brought warm days, but the nights were still cool, so he grabbed a checkered flannel and put it on over his tee shirt, leaving it open in the front, then he pulled on his brown leather boots. A quick check in the mirror, and he decided it was good enough.

Grabbing his keys and wallet, he made his way around back and stepped outside. Standing on the back porch, he frowned as he locked up. Taped to his door was a sheet of white paper, folded in half. Slipping his keys into his pocket, Doug peeled the paper loose and opened it. It was a handwritten note, scrawled neatly in blue pen.

Dear new guy downstairs,

Truly sorry about the noise, we’ll try to keep it down in the future. However, we’d like to ask that in the future, you would be so kind as to come to us directly if you have a problem. You know, like a grownup. And we’d really appreciate it if you would not call the fucking landlord. There’s no need to go all Pussy McTattletale.

Much love,

The guys on top

Doug grimaced. “Pussy McTattletale?” He shook his head, crumpling the note into a ball. “Great. That’s just great.”

Tossing the note in the trash barrel, he got in his car and headed out on the road. Stopping on the way to Wyatt’s, he picked up a large bottle of wine to bring to dinner. He had the feeling he was going to need it.

Chapter Three

As the meal wound down and wine made laughter quick and voices a bit louder than they'd been an hour ago, Doug focused his eyes on random things around the dining table: half-empty plates smeared with pasta sauce, his sister-in-law, Beth’s pink nails as they tapped her glass, his baby niece's tomato stained, chubby hand swirling a ravioli bite around. Anything but the smug smirk on his brother’s face each time their eyes met across the table.

“So Doug, Wyatt tells me you’re an engineer.”

Oh yeah. Doug was also doing his best to ignore the handsome, attentive stranger seated beside him. His name was Jairo, a nurse that Wyatt knew from the clinic, and he was the only other guest that had been invited to dinner. It hadn’t been a great leap to figure out Jairo was gay, and that Wyatt had asked him to dinner in an attempt to play matchmaker for Doug, a truth that did little to squash his growing annoyance with his big brother.

  “Yeah,” Doug said, glancing at Jairo. “Manufacturing.”

Jairo gave him a little smile and held his eyes, but Doug saw more curiosity than desire in his expression. He was a good looking guy, with golden-brown skin, curly dark hair and a neatly trimmed goatee. And while his face was a bit narrower, and his toothy grin far wider, he reminded Doug of Harry, his ex-boyfriend. Jairo was, in fact, what Doug had once considered to be his
type
. Harry was half Indian, with the same dark curly hair and easy smile that Jairo had—a fact that had no doubt factored into Wyatt’s decision to play pimp.

But Wyatt should have realized that a Harry look-alike was the
last
thing Doug wanted. “I’ll help you with that,” Doug said, standing when Beth began to clear the plates.

“No, sit down, please,” she said, giving him the same knowing grin he’d been getting from Wyatt all night. “Just relax, Doug, I’ve got it.”

“No problem, let me help.”

He followed Beth out of the dining room and into the kitchen, setting the dirty plates down on the counter next to the sink.

Beth turned to him with a wry smile, tucking a long strand of curly blonde hair behind her ear. “You’re mad,” she said.

“I’m not mad.”

“Doug.” She grabbed his chin. “I
know
you. You’re mad that we invited Jairo.”

“No, no, I mean I appreciate the thought. A little heads up just would have been nice.”

She sighed, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I’m sorry. We just thought, you know. He’s a cute gay guy. Successful, nice. We thought maybe you’d hit it off. I’m sorry, Doug.”

“Don’t worry about it, Beth, really, it’s fine. Dinner was great.”

She looked terribly disappointed. He almost felt bad. She and Wyatt had seemed positively gleeful at dinner, like they’d brought Doug a surprise gift and were waiting for him to thank them. He knew they had few gay friends. By finding this attractive work colleague of Wyatt’s, they’d likely thought they’d discovered a rare gem, the sort they knew Doug collected. And he didn’t want it.

Wyatt stepped into the kitchen and set down some dishes. He looked back and forth between Beth and Doug, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “What’s going on?”

“He’s mad,” Beth said.

“I’m not mad,” Doug said.

“What...why are you mad?” Wyatt asked.

“I’m not mad.”

“He’s mad,” Beth said. “You guys go out and talk on the deck. I’ll go entertain our guest. I’m sure Jairo’s have a
great
time sitting alone in there with baby Mandy.”

Beth left the kitchen. Wyatt opened the slider, and Doug followed him out onto the back deck. Doug leaned against the railing, taking a deep breath as he looked up at the stars.

“Why are you mad?” Wyatt asked. “Because I invited a friend to dinner?”

He looked at his brother. “You set me up, Bro.”

“So what? Jairo’s a nice guy. What’s wrong with him?”

“There’s nothing
wrong
with him. He’s great, it’s just a little awkward walking into a blind date I didn’t know I had.”

Wyatt shrugged. “I thought it might be good for you.”

“I know.” Doug raised his hands. “I know you mean well, Wyatt. But listen, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I don’t need you to take care of me, all right? I don’t need you to call my landlord for me, and I don’t need you to find me a replacement-Harry. Or any other sort of date. I’ve got it from here. Understand?”

“Okay, fine, I just thought—”

“’Scuze me, guys?”

They both turned and saw Jairo standing in the doorway. He stepped onto the deck, offering them both a wide grin.

“Hey, Jairo,” Wyatt said. “We were just getting some air. You want another drink?”

“No, thanks, Wyatt. I was actually hoping I could have a minute alone to talk to Doug.”

Wyatt glanced at Doug, who shrugged, then nodded.

“Okay!” Wyatt gave them both an exaggerated grin. “I’ll be inside, then.” He glanced over his shoulder at Doug as he went in, twitching his eyebrows comically.

Doug chuckled and shook his head. Once Wyatt was gone, Jairo came to stand beside him, leaning against the railing with hands in his pockets. “So,” he said. “Good thing that dinner wasn’t awkward at all.”

Doug laughed. “Yeah.” He stepped forward then turned to face Jairo. “If I was rude in any way, I apologize. I’m just...just in a mood tonight.”

Jairo smiled, white teeth gleaming against dark skin. “You just didn’t know I was coming,” he said. “I figured that out pretty fast.”

“Yeah,” Doug said. “I’m sorry. It’s nothing personal.”

“But you’re not interested in me,” he said, still grinning.

Doug laughed at his directness. “Again, it’s nothing personal.”

“No, really, it’s fine,” Jairo said. “To be honest, I only did this as a favor to Wyatt. I’m not particularly interested in you, either. Not that you’re not great looking but I kind of prefer blonds.” He shrugged, then slapped Doug on the arm. “Nothing
personal
.”

Doug let out a full belly laugh, and Jairo chuckled along with him. “Oh Christ,” Doug said, running fingers through his hair. “I need a beer.”

“Tough week?”

“
Long
week. I moved at the beginning of it, so it’s been pretty hectic.”

“Yeah,” Jairo said, “Wyatt told me you moved to the neighborhood. How do you like it?”

“It’s great, I like it. After imposing on Wyatt and Beth for so long, it feels good to be on my own steam again. I’d forgotten how much I liked my alone-time.”

“Oh I can imagine,” Jairo said. “My apartment’s being renovated right now, and I’m going nuts just having to crash on a friend’s couch for a few days. So your new place is nice?”

“Yeah, I love the place. Had some issues with the neighbors already and I just need to blow off some steam tonight, I guess. I didn’t expect to have to be on my best behavior at dinner. But then I didn’t know I had a
date
.”

Jairo looked down, nodding, still with the cute grin. Doug got the feeling Jairo was rarely without a smile. He seemed a truly happy person, confident in himself and optimistic. Doug felt drawn to him, not sexually, but like a bug drawn to the light.

“Hey, you want to get out of here?” Jairo asked, looking up. “Now that we’re officially not on a date, we can go grab a beer as friends. Have you been to Bernie’s Pub yet? It’s in the neighborhood, probably not far from your house. You’re down by the pond, Wyatt said?”

“Yeah, right near the pond.”

“Well, shit,” Jairo said. “You could walk home if you want to get a bit tipsy. What do you think? It’s a great place, not too big but cozy. They have live music on Fridays, usually just a guy with a guitar. But it’s fun, a good crowd. Mix of gays and straights. Usually a lot of cute guys.”