Knave of Broken Hearts (4 page)

“Jiiiim, come on, my hound dog, take me home and fuck me.”

The slightly slurred woman’s voice stopped Ken, and he looked over his shoulder. The woman with the spectacular bottom he’d seen inside moved across the parking lot toward a beat-up truck, hanging on the neck of the guy Ken had tried to dance with. The big, beautiful, sexy, mouth-watering guy who’d branded Ken with a hot erection before suddenly becoming the straightest human on earth and about dying of embarrassment. What had she called him? Jim? So this woman was Jim’s type. Funny. She seemed a little obvious. The type of woman a man chose to prove his balls. But something about this man named Jim wasn’t obvious at all.

Someone grabbed Ken’s arm from behind. “Ken, you’re not leaving?”

Ken turned to stare at his handsome, pain-in-the-ass date. “Sorry, dear. I have to be at work early. I asked Alvin and Marshall to take you home.”

Gene crossed his arms tightly over his well-dressed chest. “Are they supposed to suck me off as a consolation prize?”

Blondie stepped up and stuck his shoulder between Ken and Gene. “If anyone’s sucking around here, it’s going to be me.”

“Like hell.” Gene pushed his hand against the blond’s shoulder, and the man staggered back. Gene looked seriously pleased with himself.

Ken glanced toward Jim and the woman. Both of them stared at Ken’s little ménage.

Blond guy pushed Gene back.
Enough.
Ken stepped away, opened the door of his Lexus, slipped inside, and slammed and locked the door before either of the combatants even realized he was gone.

Outside the car, Gene screeched, “Ken. What the fuck?” He slammed a hand against the door, but Ken just pressed the accelerator and pulled away. As he passed the guy called Jim and his girlfriend, Ken turned his head. The woman stared at the two fighting men with a smile on her face, but Jim looked up, and his eyes met Ken’s. He wasn’t amused or horrified. How did he look? As if he’d like to punch the fucking lights out of both those guys. If he’d beaten them, would he have wanted Ken as his prize?

He sighed and pulled out into traffic.
Wishful thinking.

J
IM
GLANCED
over at Peggy as she bounced in the passenger seat and clapped her hands. “Man, wasn’t that something? Who ever thought we’d see two gay guys fighting over another one? That was better than late-night wrestling.” She laughed. “But I gotta say, that Asian guy was something to fight over. Shit, him being gay is a waste of raw material. He’s movie-star handsome.”

No. Graphic-novel handsome.

“You coming in, baby?” Peggy gave him that big smile that promised sex with no preamble.
Wish I was tempted.

“Sorry. Can’t. I’ve got to start that new job for Billy. I’ve got serious shit to do, and you’re too distracting.” He leaned over and kissed her to soften the blow.

“Aw, come on. I’ve got a new bottle of Jack and a hot mattress with clean sheets.” She giggled. “Let Charlie and Raoul take the early shift.”

How many times had he done just that? “Not tonight.”

She stuck out her lip. “Damn. You’re no fun.”

“I’ve spent my life being nothing but fun. Time I got serious, you know?”

“But I like your fun self.” She threw her arms around his neck and managed to lean far enough across the console to grind her impressive rack against his chest. “Come on, baby. I’m serious—seriously horny.”

Why was it when you tried to make a change, everything in your damn life conspired against you? He took hold of her shoulders and pushed her away gently. “You’re some Jezebel, baby, but this is important. Get your cute butt home and let me do the same.”

“Oh hell, Jimmy. Aren’t I important?”

What could he say to that? He just smiled.

She climbed out of his truck, turned back, and crossed her arms. “When you fall off this holier-than-thou shit wagon, don’t come crawling to me. The door will be closed.” He startled when she slammed the passenger door, then watched her walk into her condo and slam that door too, never looking back once. At least she’d made this breakup easier than most.

He twisted the key in the ignition, and his gut twisted at the same time. He’d just turned down sex
and
Jack so he could get up early and work. That constituted one helluva change of motivation. He’d fallen down a rabbit hole where his best friend turned out to be gay, hot guys danced together, and one of them looked like the incarnation of his childhood dreams.

Something was getting closer. Closing in. Something he didn’t want to look at or it’d eat him. He shuddered.

Get your head on straight and stop this shit.

Twenty minutes later at his apartment building, he checked his mailbox and climbed the outside stairs to the second floor. Crap place to live. You couldn’t make noise because it bothered the people below you, but nobody seemed to tell the renters above him about that idea. Elephants trained for Cirque du Soleil in that apartment.

He shoved the advertising flyers from his mailbox under his arm and reached for his key.
What the hell?
Ahead, sitting on the outside landing beside his apartment door, a guy lolled against the wall with his head turned away from Jim and both hands clutching his chest.

Jim stopped. He clamped his hand on his phone.
911 time?

The head turned toward him, showing short dirty-blond hair just a shade lighter than Jim’s.

“Ian?”
What the living fuck?

Wide eyes opened. “Hey, Jim.”

“I about called the cops. What are you doing here?”

Jim’s younger brother slowly gathered up his skinny body and, still clutching his windbreaker to his chest, got to his feet.

Jim shook his head. “Jeez, man, you’re almost as tall as me.”

“Yeah. I still haven’t stopped growing.”

“Last time I saw you, you barely topped Mom.”

“Late bloomer.”

“How old are you now?”

“I just turned eighteen.”

“Sorry. I’m not much for remembering events.”

Ian smiled. “That must win the award for understatement.”

“So what are you doing here?” He glanced at the kid’s clutching hands. “And what’s wrong with you? Gunshot wound? Heart attack?”

Ian shook his head and slowly unpeeled the windbreaker, revealing a small, furry, silvery white head. “Cat attack.”

“You’re sitting outside my apartment at ten at night with your cat?”
Take a breath.

Ian’s green eyes flashed. Looked kind of like Jim’s. “He’s more your cat. I mean, I found him out by your trashcans. He’s a scrawny bugger. I think we need to feed him.”

“We? Ian, I’ll ask again, what are you doing here?”

“Mom and Dad kicked me out.”

Well, hellfire.
He shook his head. “Last I knew, you were the honor student superstar who they bragged about all the time. Going to Berkeley for architecture. Dean’s list. Valedictorian and shit?”

“Yeah.”

“So?”

“I guess they didn’t count on me being gay.”

Jim’s mouth opened, closed, opened again. “What the hell makes you think you’re gay?”

Ian’s voice rose. “How about my boyfriend’s cock in my mouth?”

Shit.
He grabbed his brother’s shoulder. “You better come in.”

“Yeah. Me and your cat.”

“Not my cat.” He unlocked the door, pushed it open for Ian to walk through, and reached in to flip on the light.

“I see you haven’t applied for any HGTV home decorating awards lately.”

“If you’d like to leave for more posh environs, be my fucking guest. Besides, you should have seen it yesterday.”

The kid shook his head, and even looking at his tense back, Jim suddenly felt sorry for him. Thrown out of his home by people he trusted to love him no matter what. Hell, at least Jim had walked out on his own. Kind of.

Jim pointed at the ratty couch. “Sit. Give me your jacket.”

He looked down at the kitten. “I think he likes it in here.”

“Yeah, well, what are the chances he’s housebroken? You could end up with more than fur in that jacket.”

“He pooped while I was waiting for you. Peed too.”

“In your jacket?”

“No. On the ground. You got something we can use for a litter box? And what about some food?”

“For you or the cat?”

“Both, I guess.”

Jim walked into the tiny kitchenette and found a pizza box he’d stuffed in the trash. He pulled it out.
Could work.
“I got this, but what could we put in it?”

“Shredded paper towels or toilet paper or something?”

Jim narrowed his eyes. “Maybe. That critter’s little. Probably’s got no idea about doing its thing in one place.”

Ian pulled the feline from his jacket and held it up, getting a “mew” for his trouble. “I’m guessing you’re smart.” He looked over at Jim. “I think he looks like Anderson Cooper, don’t you? All silvery white fur.”

“If you say so.” Jim had a stack of paper napkins he’d gotten from the pizza takeout over the months. He ripped them up and tossed them in the box, then set it in the corner beside the refrigerator.

“I’m gonna call him Anderson.” Ian stood, carried the little cat to the box, and plopped the beast in the shredded paper. “And this must be the Anderson pooper.” He laughed at his own joke, but it sounded tired.

The kitten immediately started scratching, tossing paper around, then squatted and peed.
Damn. He gets it
. The beast scratched some more, then hopped over the low side of the box and started sniffing his way around the room.

“So your plans are what? To keep this cat and stay here?” Jim crossed his arms.

Ian scrunched up his face all adorable-like. “Yeah, I guess so. I didn’t think about it too much. They yelled that they didn’t want any fag children in their house, and I walked out and drove here.”

Shit.
“So you’ve got a car.”

“Yeah. Dad bought me one when I turned sixteen.”

“But he makes the payments?”

He nodded slowly. “He did. I’ve always paid the insurance, but he bought the car.”

“You reckon he’s going to let you keep it?”

“Jesus, Jim, I don’t know.”

Jim sat next to him and put a hand on his arm for a second. “You said something about a boyfriend.”

Ian wiped his hand over his face. “Yeah. Ricky. I really liked him. His folks gathered him up and sent him to some military school or something.”

“When they found out, you mean?”

“When they found me sucking their son’s cock. His father decided any kid could be seduced by a good blow job, so they figured if they got him away from temptation like me, he’d be okay. Crap, he’ll seduce every guy at his school.”

Talk about drowning in déjà vu. “Jesus, kid, I’m sorry.” His stomach turned, and he breathed out slowly. “So Berkeley?”

“Gone, I assume. I can’t figure they’d let me live on the streets but pay my way to architecture school.”

“Yeah.” He didn’t see his brother much, but he knew that was a big dream.

Ian looked at Jim with shiny eyes. “Can I stay here, Jim? Until I figure out what to do?”

How much of a grown-up was he prepared to be? “I guess so. I don’t have much room. There’s this closet-sized space they had the gall to call a second bedroom. It’s full of crap, but maybe we can clear some room.”

“I won’t be any trouble.”

Right. An eighteen-year-old with a cat. How could that be any trouble?
“Come on. I’ll show you the space, and then we’ll try to find some food. I got a big job tomorrow, so I need to get to bed.”

“Shit. Sorry, Jim.”

Yeah, sorry.
Two hours later they’d managed to find spaces for all the crap Jim had dumped in that extra room—including a lot in the trash cans. Fair trade for the cat. He’d shoved some vegetable soup and turkey slices into Ian and just turkey into Anderson. The kid’s long frame barely fit on the secondhand daybed, but his head hit the pillow and his eyes closed at the same time. Anderson made himself at home next to Ian’s head. The feline seemed less lost than the kid.

Jim pulled the door most of the way closed and walked to his room. Could you hate your own parents? He sure as fuck came close. Ian was a good kid. Their late-life baby who’d always been their crown prince—as long as he fit all their pictures. Jim had never fit in, so when he walked out the door after—when he left, they were probably relieved. But to throw out Ian? Hell, whoever thought up the idea of unconditional love was smoking something illegal.

He took a quick shower so he didn’t have to spend time in the morning, set his alarm for 5:00 a.m.—
Just four hours in the future. Damn!
—put the clock across the room so he wouldn’t turn it off, and crawled in bed. He sighed. This morning he had a hangover. Tonight he had a serious job, a kid—and a cat. Jeez, when he was asking the cosmos for more responsibility, he hadn’t really meant that kind.

Okay, sleep.
Wonder what Billy and Shaz are doing?
Well, hell no, he knew what they were doing. It was their honeymoon.
What do gay guys do exactly?
Is it like the comic books?

What had that guy in the parking lot said? He wanted to suck the beautiful guy? Jesus, gay guys probably did a lot of that. They must like it. Probably more than women did.
Bet they’re better at it too.
Jim swiped at his face.
Like the lips on that guy at the wedding.
In that lean face, those Angelina lips looked really startling. Did that guy like sucking off another dude like in the yaoi comic?
Stop thinking, idiot, or you’ll be up all night jerking off.

He flipped on his side.
I’ll plan the suite remodel. How do I want to organize the guys?
That should put me to sleep.
With lips and cats and tenant improvements swimming through his head, he finally dozed off.

H
OO
BOY
,
did he feel crappy. Three days in a row. But this morning it was too little alcohol, not too much. That was a vague improvement.