Six Degrees of Lust (13 page)

pressing matters to take care of. He pulled Sam’s missed call and

hit him back.

“Twenty-two minutes, Tex,” he answered after only one ring

and Mac finally released the breath he hadn’t been aware he was

holding.

“I told you I’m at work.” Mac leaned against his office door

and closed his eyes. Sam’s voice, even when he was bitching, was

still the sexiest he’d heard in his entire life. “What did you call

me for?”

“To find out when you’re coming back.” Sam made it sound

as if it was a done deal.

“Who says I’m goin’?”

“I know you want to. How about Memorial Day weekend?”

“That’s in two days.”

“Got plans already?” Sam sounded like he didn’t give a shit

about the answer, but Mac wasn’t buying it.

“No, Sam. I do not have other plans…” He just knew the

Yank was making reference to the conversation he’d overheard

in that hotel room. “Other than work, that is.”

“Then let me fly you up to New York. I can book your flight

and a room and—”

“I can’t just up and go,” Mac snapped, amazed he was able to

talk at all, he was so floored by Sam’s offer.

“So tell me when.”

“I don’t know.” Mac hated to be taken for granted. He really

did, and because of that he wanted to tell Sam to go fuck himself.

Where did he get off acting like he knew what Mac would do?

But he’d called and Mac wanted him… he had to finish what

they had started. “I appreciate the generous offer, but it isn’t

necessary.”

“Meaning?”

“I can pay my own way and I’ll look into it.” Regardless of

84 Taylor V. Donovan

how they had left things, Mac knew that nothing would stop him

from seeing Sam again if he had the chance. “I’ll let you know.”

“You do that. Later.”

Mac disconnected the call and opened his eyes, a silly grin

slowly taking over his entire face. Then he locked the door and

headed for his private bathroom. Closing duties could wait.

Besides, it’d only take him about five minutes to remember his

Yankee some more.

May 22, 2009

New York City

Ryan Lewis was not a happy camper at the moment.

The spinach and mushroom wrap was so disgustingly mushy

it triggered his gag reflex as soon as he bit into it. He breathed

through his nose in an effort to keep whatever was left of the

tarragon chicken with tomato salad he had for lunch in his

stomach and pushed the plate away. He also closed his left thumb

in his hand and made a fist for good measure.

Once he was positive he wasn’t going to puke, he wiped his

mouth delicately with a paper napkin and plastered a polite smile

on his face. It was half assed and he knew it, but he didn’t really

care.

“Something wrong with the food?” his dinner companion

asked.

He refused to call him date even though the guy had asked

him out. A date worth his salt wouldn’t have taken him to a place

that might as well have been called Drab Cafe when he was

obviously dressed for, at the very least, a high end bistro.

But there he was, rocking his super cute, leopard print, designer

top and tight jeans while sitting at what had to be the gloomiest

deli in the city. The restrooms over at Grand Central Station were

brighter and more stylish than this joint. How what’s-his-face had

managed to find something like this in the heart of Manhattan’s

Fashion District, of all places, was a question for the ages.

He took a sip of his diet soda. It was flat. “Food’s fine.”

“We can send it back and order something different if you

want.”

“I’m good, but thanks anyway.”

86 Taylor V. Donovan

Truth was he was starving, but ordering something else, had

he dared to after sampling their far from fine cuisine, would’ve

meant waiting to be served and then eating it. He wasn’t planning

on sticking around for that long. As soon as his friend Tim

showed up, he was out of there.

Ryan checked his phone once again, but Tim hadn’t replied

to his text.

“So tell me, Peter. Where are you from?” he asked, shrugging

his narrow, pointy shoulders a little and cocking his head to one

side. Might as well try to understand why he had accepted to go

out to dinner with this guy in the first place. “Peter?” he repeated

louder and still got no response. In fact, his voice didn’t seem

to register at all. Phooey… Had he gotten the name wrong? He

tried to get the other man’s attention by lightly patting his slim

arm. It worked. The dude physically recoiled. “Well, excuse me,

babycake!”

“Shhhhhhhhhhh!” The guy looked around frantically. “Must

you be so loud?”

“I wasn’t.” He rolled his eyes and checked his phone for

messages. There was one from Tim, finally.

“Well, I wanted to commend you for meeting with me

tonight.”

Ryan raised his eyebrows at that choice of words. “Excuse

me? Didn’t you ask me out on a date?”

“I asked you to meet me for dinner.” Every word was carefully

enunciated, as if he were a little slow. Maybe he was? He had an

accent, but the way he spoke made it impossible for Ryan to tell

where it was from.

“Tomatoes, tomah-toes,” he sang in mocking falsetto.

“Getting a guy’s number then ringing him a few days later to ask

him to meet you for dinner is called a date.” He didn’t look at

Peter when he replied to his friend’s text message. “Haven’t been

living in NYC long, have you, bunny?”

“I have lived here all my life.”

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“Snort.” He would have snorted for real, but it was such an

indelicate gesture. “Come on, ‘fess up!” He smoothed down his

top, rested his chin in his hand and batted his thick, mascara

covered eyelashes. “Is it Louisiana? Georgia? Texas?”

“You know, by dressing that way you’re rubbing normal

people’s faces in your unabashed aberration.”

“There is nothing wrong with my outfit,” Ryan snapped. He’d

paid a pretty penny for it and it was fabulous. “And what, may I

ask, do you mean by aberration?”

“Do your parents know?”

“Do my parents know what?” he repeated carefully, feeling a

little disoriented all of a sudden.

“Do they know what you are?”

“You mean who, right? Do they know who I am?” He squared

his shoulders off and lifted his chin. “They know their son is a

loving and caring man. Their son is a registered nurse who works

at the intensive care unit of a highly specialized cardiovascular

hospital and they’re very proud of his accomplishments, I’ll have

you know.”

“You’re a faggot, that’s what you are,” Peter or whatever his

name was muttered. Ryan was completely taken aback by the

comment.

“And so are you!” he snapped. He wasn’t about to take bullshit

from this asshole. For a second he considered the possibility of

him being one of those moralistic pricks who sought out gay

guys just to try to change them, but discarded it right away. “If

you think dressing all preppy makes you less queer you’re dumber

than you look! Have you forgotten where we met at? It was

Tangerine, bitch! A club doesn’t get gayer than that one!”

Fuck! He couldn’t believe he had put himself in this position.

But the guy had seemed so humble and friendly when he

approached him that night at the club. So innocent.

Ryan had been feeling a little crestfallen after gorgeous

Braxton from Texas declined his offer of hot sex. As a result he

88 Taylor V. Donovan

was a bit vulnerable and easily charmed by Peter’s manners and

faint accent when he offered to buy him a drink.

And he was so cute, too. Not Ryan’s usual, as he preferred his

men to be tall and muscular. But this lean, medium height, brown

haired, hazel eyed boy next door had looked so lost at the club

that he’d totally appealed to his caregiver nature. He’d wanted to

protect the guy.

Ryan didn’t really have any protective instincts when it came

to grown men he didn’t know, so it must’ve been a side effect of

the damn Mojitos he’d had that night. He was never drinking that

again. Ever.

“It is time you change your ways,” Peter said.

So he was one of those moralistic pricks.

Crap.

He looked around to make sure they were not alone. So far

Peter seemed harmless enough, but who knew with his type. If

Ryan was going to be a victim of gay harassment or bashing, lord

help him, he damn well wanted it to be witnessed.

“Why the hell would I do that?”

Ryan had never known when to keep his mouth shut. He

looked around again. The few other costumers weren’t paying

attention to them, and their waitress was nowhere to be seen.

“Because the unrighteous will not inherit the Kingdom of

God.”

He grabbed his phone and typed a series of quick messages

to his friend. “I like who I am.”

“But you were not born this way. You chose it.”

“Says who?” he asked, ignoring the fact that the guy’s cheeks

were starting to look a bit flushed.

“The Bible! The Lord! This homosexual craze alters the order

of creation and it is done openly, in front of everybody!”

“Most people are just fine with homosexuality, I’ll have you

know.”

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89

“It’s an abomination!”

“Only ignorant people like you think that way.” Ryan’s voice

was a little shaky. Lord, he needed to get out of there. “We love

the same way straight folks do.”

“Those are vile affections.” Peter looked so disgusted by

homosexuality in general that Ryan was amazed he was able to

pretend he wasn’t for the time it had taken for them to get a table

and order some food.

“How can you say that?” he asked, feeling it was his

responsibility to try and teach this guy something. “We are sons,

daughters, partners, and friends. We are uncles and aunts…

Parents, even.”

“No children should be allowed near the likes of you. Your

sinful lifestyle will only defile their innocence.”

“That is not true. One day I’ll go to Vermont and get married.

Then I’ll adopt children.”

“You’re a fool if you believe anyone will trust you with them.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” He read the text he’d just received and

sent a reply. His friend had just gotten off the train and would be

there shortly. Thank goodness he’d been in the city already and

was able to meet up with Ryan in no time.

By now the other customers were aware of what was going

on, and Ryan could see the manager had an eye on their table.

That made him feel a little better. Definitely safe. He doubted

Peter would be stupid enough to attempt anything with so many

witnesses around.

He looked around the cafe, trying to figure out a way to get

this asshole distracted enough in order for him to take a picture

with his cell. He had to send it to his friends, make sure they

knew to stay clear from this crazy homophobe.

“The consequences of deviant sexual relationships are

grievous.” The nonsense continued.

“I’m a good man. God created me the way I am and I know

he loves me.”

90 Taylor V. Donovan

“God is holy. He hates immorality.”

“For all you or anybody else knows, God is as queer as a three

dollar bill, so shut up already!”

“Blasphemous!” Peter screamed, gripping the sides of the

table the way a preacher would his pulpit. “It is time you’re

delivered from the power of the devil.” He was so much into

his soapbox he didn’t notice Ryan take a picture and send it to

his friend. He didn’t notice him get ready for a quick exit either.

“You need to think about it before it is too late!”

“I’m outta here!” Ryan said as soon as he saw his friend cross

the cafe’s door.

“Think about it!” He heard Peter yell after him. “Your time to

repent is limited and the final countdown has begun!”

May 27, 2009

New York City

Gabriela Moreau flipped through the pages of the sample

catalog she had received two days ago with the enthusiasm of a

four-year-old on Christmas morning, then closed it, just to start

all over again. She took in the size and number of pages, the

font and the cover graphic. Next she made sure the layout of the

pages was consistent and an order form was included. Everything

had to be perfect, as catalogs were a very important part of an art

show. They promoted the event, plus the sneak peak of the pieces

that would be on the display increased anticipation and boosted

sales. Once she’d approved the sample, their graphic artist would

send it out for printing and promotion for Metaphora’s exhibition

opening in December would officially begin.

She flipped the pages again, this time studying the pictures of

paintings and sculptures she and Christian had decided to feature

after hours of careful consideration. They had three incredibly