Open Seating (7 page)

These gym confessions, along with vivid memories of contentious parents, simply reinforced Bryce’s belief that relationships on the whole were doomed to fail. He’d shied away from them in high school, and his one and only attempt in college had ended badly. Through the years, Bryce gained a reputation as a player, which was preferable to being stuck in a miserable situation. He was a huge fan of the Grindr app and used it without compunction. Monogamy was unrealistic, in his opinion, and he couldn’t understand the big rush to get married when half of marriages ended in divorce.

The cab ride back to the hotel was uncomfortably silent, and Seth continued to freeze him out after they stepped into their room. Bryce ignored him. What he did instead was look over tomorrow’s schedule and then pick up the hotel phone to place an automated wake-up call.

“How much time did you give us?” Seth asked, apparently aware of Bryce’s every move.

“Two hours. That should give you enough time to get ready and grab some breakfast before the bus takes off.”

“After what happened this morning, there’s no way I’m having breakfast downstairs,” Seth proclaimed.

“You need to eat something before we go, or you’ll never last until lunch.”

Seth grimaced. “I might grab a yogurt or energy bar if they have it.”

“Take another one of those pills, and you should be fine in the morning.”

“Okay,” Seth agreed. “Would you call back and set the wake-up for six instead of seven?”

“Why in hell do you want to get up so early?”

“I like to write in the morning when I’m fresh,” Seth explained.

“You think for once you can change your routine?”

“Nope.”

“And what am I supposed to do while you’re clicking away?” Bryce complained.

“Sleep.”

“Impossible,” Bryce said. “I sleep with one eye open.”

“Is it the noise or the light that’ll bother you?”

“Both.”

“I suppose I could go downstairs,” Seth said. “But then I’d have to get dressed first.”

“Throw on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt,” Bryce suggested. “I doubt you’ll bump into anyone significant at that time of the morning. When you come back upstairs, you can shower and change.”

“You’re disrupting my routine,” Seth said.

“It won’t kill you to be a little more flexible.”

“I’m plenty flexible where it counts.”

Bryce raised one eyebrow. “Really?”

“Don’t read more into that.”

“You’re the one who opened the can of worms.”

Seth pinked up like a virgin. Stammering, he said, “I’ll… put my laptop by the bed… and sleep in sweats… so I can leave without turning on the lights.”

“I’d appreciate it, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Seth said, rushing into the bathroom.

Well, that was weird
, Bryce thought. Was Seth worried he’d make a pass or something? Sheesh, what an adorable doofus. Then again…
flexible where it counts
. That was intriguing if nothing else. The guy acted like an uptight single aunt most of the time but maybe Bryce was way off the mark
.
What if Seth was the complete opposite in bed? Shit, now Bryce had dick on his mind when he should be thinking of sleep. He pulled out his phone and tapped the Grindr app. He updated his location to see if anyone was interested in a quickie hookup and was rewarded with three hits. He studied the profile photos and chose the blond who was only a few blocks away. He didn’t normally go for the “good boy” types, but the guy in the pic could have passed for Seth’s brother. Was that Freudian or what?

He checked his pocket to make sure he had condoms, travel-size packets of lube, and enough cash to stay out of trouble. He put the rest of his valuables—wallet and passport—in the room safe where they belonged. No sense in tempting anyone. If he got jumped, always a possibility walking into a new situation, he wouldn’t be a victim of identity theft. The physical altercation he could handle. Most guys took one look at his biceps and backed off, especially the type of men he preferred: youngish, lean, and sassy.

Banging on the bathroom door, he yelled, “I’m going for a walk. Don’t wait up.”

“Okay.” Seth’s reply was muffled, but at least he’d answered.

Bryce preferred public venues for his meet and greet in a new city. It had been a while since he’d had a hookup go wrong, but one was all it took to burn the lesson into his brain like an ugly tattoo. No dingy back rooms or dark alleys for him. Meeting in a club surrounded by witnesses was the safe way to go, and he’d stuck to that routine for years. This time, he’d go the extra step and give the bartender his name and hotel in case he didn’t return. Seth would flip out if he woke up and didn’t find Bryce in bed.

When he got to the club, he went straight to the bar and ordered a beer. The stool he’d chosen swiveled conveniently, and he spun around to watch the action on the dance floor while keeping an eye on the entrance in case his hookup was late. He hadn’t seen him so far. Just when he thought the guy was a no-show, the twink was standing in front of him.

“Bryce?” he asked, pushing up his glasses, which had drifted down his long, straight nose. Up close, he didn’t look anything like Seth, except for the blond hair. The eyes behind the lenses were blue, instead of puppy-dog brown, and he had a few leftover zits on his forehead from his recent adolescence. Christ, was this guy even legal?

“How old are you?” Bryce asked warily.

“Twenty-two.”

“Do you have ID?”

“What’s a fine daddy like you got to worry about?”

“Going to jail, and I sure wish you wouldn’t call me that.”

“But you’re a classic.”

“Fuck. You.”

“That’s precisely why I’m here. What’s the matter, big guy? Disappointed?”

“You’re much younger in person,” Bryce said. “Let’s see the ID.”

“I’m David,” he said, handing over his driver’s license. “Not that I’m complaining, you ken, but you’re way older than the guy on the app.”

“It’s been a few years since I updated my photo. Are you from Scotland?” Bryce asked, eager to change the subject.

“What gave me away?”

Bryce laughed. “I don’t know anyone who uses the word
ken
in a sentence other than Barbie.”

“I like older men so I’m cool playing your Ken doll.”

“Jesus,” Bryce huffed. “I’m not looking to play dollies with you.”

David placed a hand on Bryce’s thigh and let it slowly drift toward his cock. He hummed in appreciation as he felt the impressive bulge. “I can provide whatever you need.”

“Where?”

“My flat’s close enough to walk.”

Bryce turned toward the bartender. “Do you know this guy?”

The jaded look the bartender gave Bryce was a good tell, but his response was even better. “Everyone knows Davey.”

“Can I have a piece of paper and pencil?” Bryce asked.

The bartender slid over a notepad and pencil, and Bryce scribbled his name, hotel, and room number. “If I’m not back in an hour, call the cops and give them my info.”

David’s eyes widened. “You think I’m some sort of dodgy wanker?”

“I don’t know what that means, but it never hurts to be paranoid, right?”

“You’re daft.”

“Better safe than sorry, Davey boy.”

“Aye… let’s get going, Yank.”

Two hours later Bryce was back in his hotel room, exhausted but sated for the moment. Jet lag finally kicked in, and Bryce could feel sleep pulling him down, but he kept going over those awkward moments when David had called him a daddy. Was he deluding himself in thinking he could compete with younger guys? He
was
pushing fifty. Maybe it was time to change his profile pic, so the embarrassing moments like he’d just experienced could be avoided. At least David had been cool with the real Bryce, in comparison to the much younger face on the Grindr profile. All in all, the kid had been more than satisfactory, a nice ending to a convoluted day, but it could have gone terribly wrong. The next time he might not be so lucky, and worse than being rejected because of his age would be to experience the shame in public.

He wondered if Seth would be willing to take a few headshots to help him out. He’d most likely give him the all-knowing
I told you so
expression, but Bryce could stop him in his tracks with a few choice words. He was certain the last thing Seth wanted to hear was a blow-by-blow of Bryce’s sexual exploits. Sex without love went against everything Seth believed in—and wrote about. He needed to realize that life wasn’t a romance novel. Most single men were only interested in one thing, and that didn’t include tooth-achy sweet scenarios. Happy endings were so last century. Ugh….

THERE WERE
cozy pockets of seating scattered throughout the hotel lobby, and Seth chose an area close to an electrical outlet for his laptop. A self-service coffee bar, open twenty-four hours a day, was also conveniently located in the same vicinity, and he poured himself a large mug. By the end of his writing session, he would easily consume several more; the caffeine provided an essential component to his creative process.

This was his daily ritual, and he saw no reason to change even if it was inconvenient for his roommate. Seth had done his best to accommodate Bryce by picking up the phone after one ring to make sure he wasn’t disturbed by the wake-up call, although from the looks of it, the guy was down for the count. Seth had no idea what time Bryce had gotten in last night, but he could guess it was well past midnight. The subtle odor of cigarettes, booze, and male arousal permeated the room, and it didn’t take much to figure out Bryce had been prowling the clubs for a hookup. God, what was it like to live with that kind of sexual appetite?

Seth had considered Mark and himself to be average as far as libidos went. Trying to compare their sex drives to one of a confirmed bachelor was unrealistic and stepping into dangerous territory. He’d be disrespecting Mark by measuring him against Bryce. The dynamics of a twenty-year-old partnership could never compare to a drive-by fucking, which was what Bryce and his Grindr app were all about apparently. Talk about the decline of romance….

It was deplorable that an entire generation was dependent on electronic devices to meet someone. The outdated system of being introduced in a social setting, feeling the intense attraction, and holding off on sex until a more tangible connection had been established was viewed as archaic and impractical. Why go through the expense of courtship only to find out in the end that the sex was unsatisfying?

Why indeed. Seth reluctantly admitted he might be a tad biased and trapped inside one of his novels, preferring the rules of etiquette that permeated historical romances rather than the vulgarity of modern life. His literary agent, Laurie, had encouraged him to venture into the contemporary genre as it was much more lucrative, but Seth remained adamant. He couldn’t authentically write a scene that went against his core beliefs. It would be wrong on every level, and selling out to keep his publisher happy would feel like pandering.

Laurie had argued that Seth was out of touch with reality, living an idyllic life created by his loving partner. He was far too young to be so opinionated. Most people jumped into bed first, she pointed out, straight or gay, and if it was successful, then romance might or might not come into play. Seth was appalled. Laurie had turned a beautiful and intimate connection into a nonevent as routine as taking a shower. Social media perpetuated the decline of romance by making it too easy to find someone willing to put out. Good, bad, and ugly situations were oftentimes rated online, a permanent blot on the Internet one could never escape. Strangers from all over the world weighed in on situations that should have been kept secret. Seth shook his head in disapproval while he read the daily trends, watching celebrities and ordinary citizens crash and burn as their love lives were turned into a media circus. It was demeaning, invasive, and damned tacky. He was grateful that he and Mark were happy and monogamous;
were
being the operative word.

Unfortunately, things were different now. He hadn’t changed his Facebook status to single because he’d be fending questions about Mark all day. Friends and family already knew, so there was no rush to update anything. Part of his reluctance to announce it to the public came from having to defend Mark’s decision if they asked about the cause of death. His readers didn’t know his partner, as he and Mark had chosen to keep their private lives close to the chest, and to be honest, Seth hadn’t quite come to terms with the suicide himself. How could he explain something he didn’t understand?

Seth stared at the blank screen and realized he hadn’t written one word since he’d sat down thirty minutes ago. Sighing, he put the laptop aside and went to refill his mug. Sinking back down on the sofa, he sipped and ruminated about his current state of affairs. He was suddenly single, young enough to attract someone, but trapped in the mindset of a much older man. He’d never expected this karmic twist and knew it was much too soon to think of replacing Mark, but when the time came, what on earth would he be facing? Men like Bryce who wanted instant gratification without the emotional baggage? In that case, he might as well dig another grave, because there was no way he’d make the adjustment.

Perhaps he was conservative because he was born in the late sixties and his adolescence had been filled with news of the mysterious disease ravaging the gay community. He’d met Mark at the height of the AIDS crisis, and both of them were paranoid about the ramifications of hooking up with multiple sex partners. To make matters worse, Mark had just received his degree in pharmacology and was well aware that drugs were ineffective against HIV. The only thing that worked at the time to halt the spread of the disease was safe sex. Mark’s pharmacy sold condoms by the thousands, and he wouldn’t touch Seth without one. It put a damper on spontaneity, and waiting until they were firmly committed didn’t seem unreasonable. As more and more of their friends and acquaintances fell prey to the virus, promiscuity became synonymous with death, and now, two decades later, Seth remained stuck in that mindset. Imagining Bryce at risk with his random hookups made Seth a little nauseated. Sure, there were new and improved meds—Mark had dispensed them routinely—but even if these pills were more effective in preventing death, there was no cure.