Fall Apart Page 5
He’d told Mandy that Damon was charmingly unsure of himself and now he was realizing that was the wrong conclusion. Damon was a nice guy unaccustomed to honest interest from others. The confidence was there, beneath the surface. As Damon pushed the remainder of his cake around the plate, Alarik figured out what it was that was disarming him so—it was the lack of ego, an absence of self-importance. In Alarik’s business and day-to-day life, this was a very rare find, indeed.
Damon suddenly glanced up and Alarik had to shift to see what he was looking at. Franco was leaning on the table, hands planted wide apart, with one still partially gripping a drink. He was frowning. Todd was at his side, glancing impassively around the ballroom.
“It’s true,” Franco said, adjusting his bow tie.
Damon stood, a devilish smile spreading over his face. “Where is it?”
Alarik didn’t like being the only one seated, so he stood as well, inserting himself into the proceedings whether they continued speaking in code or not.
Todd stepped forward and with the back of his hand to Franco’s shoulder, he shunted him out of the way, his eyes on Alarik. “You in?”
Alarik had no idea what was happening, but he wasn’t ready to let Damon go. “Absolutely.”
“Come with us,” Franco ordered. It was all very clandestine and over-the-top, which made it twice as fun.
Todd led the way, followed closely by Damon and Alarik. Franco brought up the rear and he was looking around like the eye in the sky for a covert operation. Some remnant of Alarik’s inner troublemaker rose to the surface and he found himself hurrying along, eager to find out what evil he’d signed up for.
Todd took them through the massive main lobby, out a side exit, through a hedge, past a fountain with partially nude fairies holding water jugs, and finally to a secluded section of parking lot. There were only four or five vehicles in the area and nestled under an old-fashioned iron streetlight was a sleek, black BMW.
Franco actually chortled in disbelief at the sight of it. Damon and Alarik gaped while Todd who’d already seen the wedding gift, shook his head.
“What do you know about it?” Damon asked, slowly making his way around the car and keeping a healthy distance from it’s shining surface.
“It’s a 760Li,” Todd answered, his voice unusually reverent. “Six liter, TwinPower Turbo V-12, 445 horsepower.”
Franco choked on whatever oath he was trying to make. “Interior?”
“Amaro full Merino leather. Walnut trim. Bang and Olufsen sound system… The list goes on and on.”
All four of them orbited the car as though it were their personal sun, their eyes wide as they absorbed the staggering machine.
“How much did Thack shell out for this?” Damon asked, awestruck.
“At least one-seventy.”
“Luke’s a lucky bastard,” Franco whispered as Damon let out a low whistle.
“I don’t know about that,” Todd countered. “Mandy’s great, but Thack is going to lord this over Luke, no doubt about it. This is a combination gift and insult.”
Alarik’s brow tightened in confusion. It was just a BMW. “How so?”
Todd spread his arms out wide as if he were imploring a crowd of witnesses to believe his words, and deepened his voice in imitation of Mandy’s father. “I spare no expense when it comes to my little girl. She knows she can always come home because our doors are open, and now, she can drive to us in this BMW that a man like Luke certainly can’t afford.” Todd snorted, his voice returning to normal. “He’ll probably keep a journal tracking when Luke is behind the wheel. I bet he’s got the car bugged.”
“We should tell Luke to have hot monkey sex with Mandy in the back seat so Thack gets an earful,” Damon offered.
“The rear seats have a massage function.”
“Gross.”
They went silent, caught up in the siren-like call of black metallic paint and tinted windows. Damon reached toward it like he was going to run his hand over the hood, but stopped himself at the last second. “I don’t think I can—”
“Me neither,” Todd and Franco said at the same time.
Alarik looked between them. “If this is about a prank, I can’t lift a finger to this vehicle. It goes against everything that I believe in and some things that I don’t.”
They each nodded agreement. Todd pulled two bottles of white shoe polish from his pockets, a regretful twist to his lips, before slipping them back where they came from.
“I have the key,” Todd admitted softly. Every head swiveled his direction, a frenetic excitement suddenly vibrating in their midst. “I don’t think we could be faulted for, you know, sitting in it….” he trailed off.
There was some obligatory hemming and hawing before Damon called shotgun. When they settled into the leather seats, it was with four matching sighs. The new car smell was like normal new car smell on steroids. They shifted silently, testing seat belts, turning on interior lights, looking for cup holders. The leather was so soft; it was probably made from the pelts of mythical creatures.
“The engine would sound beautiful, I’m sure,” Alarik supplied, peeking through his lashes toward the front seat. “A V-12, did you say?”
A round of agreement from the three other men met his query and Damon and Franco stole glances at the key fob in Todd’s grasp. Less than ten seconds passed before Todd started the engine. Had there been anyone nearby, the masculine ooohs of pleasure could have been heard even with the windows up.
Franco patted the headrest of Todd’s seat. “Where are the massage controls?”
A little more fumbling in the dark followed and then Franco and Alarik were both chuckling as their rear ends and lower backs received high dollar treatment.
“Let’s hear the sound system,” Damon demanded.
Todd fiddled with the stereo until an AC/DC song screamed through the speakers. You Shook Me All Night Long. Alarik didn’t want to investigate, but he thought Franco might have orgasmed beside him.
“One loop around the lot. Just a quick one!” Franco shouted over the stereo. “We can stay out of sight of the entrance.”
Todd turned in his seat, meeting each of their eyes in turn. Damon nodded. Franco nodded. Alarik shrugged. Why not?
Whirling back around, Todd turned off the music, and shifted into reverse. They didn’t roll from the parking space; they floated on angel wings. There may have been a choir singing, if choirs came in the form of a V-12. None of them could manage a breath as the low thrum of the engine moved through the soles of their feet.
Todd took them on a slow loop around the side lot, the dashboard display creating a magnificent glow on both his and Damon’s faces. Alarik was terrified that they would break something. For a moment he pictured the four of them pushing the car back into the parking spot while it smoked and sputtered. Todd was apparently experiencing the same fear because he was driving no more than ten miles an hour.
Franco was the least concerned, and Alarik recognized suddenly which of Luke’s friends most needed a leash.
“One time—I swear after that we can park—you should open her up, Toddy.”
Todd and Damon acted like they were about to refuse when Franco smacked Alarik in the shoulder. “Tell ‘em, Alarik. Just speed up once on the straightaway, then park.”
Damon watched Alarik over his shoulder and Todd’s eyes were on him in the rearview mirror.
“I suppose you have to consider what Luke would do if this was one of your weddings,” he offered, taking a pass, but at the same time providing an incentive.
Franco crowed his agreement. “One time!”
Barely a second later Todd called out, “Seatbelts, boys.”
Each of them clicked in and with hearts pounding with fear that they were going to have to flee the country after wrecking an ungodly expensive vehicle, Todd rolled to a stop at the far end of the lot. The lights of the main entrance glittered in the distance.
“I hope we don’t end up in jail,” Damon murmured. “I
’ve got to open the store tomorrow.”
“All clear?” Todd asked, ignoring him.
“Clear,” they answered in unison, each man looking from his respective window.
“Here we go.”
When Todd’s foot hit the accelerator, they were pushed back against their seats and held there as the car rocketed forward. The engine was quiet and the chassis seemed to hug the ground before stretching out into a cheetah-like sprint across the lot. Surprising all of them and actually eliciting yells of shock, Todd took a corner and accelerated again. He made a circuit of the lot as fast as he could and managed not to burn rubber as he calmly pulled the car back into its designated space.
Todd and Franco sat in pleased silence. Damon stared out the windshield. Alarik sighed. He’d have to find a man with a rich father and ask for one of these.
Before Franco could offer up any further temptations or just one more times, Todd shut off the engine and stepped out of the vehicle. Once they were all surrounding it again, satisfied smiles on their faces, Damon cursed.
“What?” Todd yelped, looking frantically around the lot to see if they’d been discovered.
“Bouquet and garter toss!”
“You know what time that shit’s supposed to happen?”
Damon checked his watch. “Isn’t it soon? Aren’t we supposed to be there?”
They met one another’s eyes for a beat and then shot back toward the hotel. Todd locked the car, jerking the key fob over his shoulder in the BMW’s direction as he ran. Alarik was at Damon’s heels and was instantly distracted by the way the man moved. His shoulders were lean, his stride tight. He was uncommonly athletic and even in uncomfortable dress shoes, he was proving again that he was in excellent shape.
They careened around the fountain, through the hedge and into the side entrance. Todd hurdled a planter as they bolted through the lobby. Franco barely missed running into an older woman carrying a yapping dog. Alarik tried mightily not to laugh when he heard her screech, “Good God!” in their wake.
At the ballroom doors they stopped and straightened their dinner jackets, laughing and trying to pretend they were mature adults who hadn’t deflowered a virgin BMW.
Todd patted Alarik on the shoulder apologetically. “Sorry, man. We don’t get out much around here.”
Alarik offered his hand and they shook. “The best time I’ve ever had at a wedding, honestly.”
The ballroom doors opened and they flinched. It was Valerie and she didn’t seem pleased, which wasn’t a big change from the norm, but her glacial glare was leveled on them in suspicion.
“Where have you been?!” she blurted in that hissing type of yell that women do so well. “Todd. Where are the keys? I know you took them.”
Todd didn’t deny anything, but there wasn’t a trace of guilt in his expression. “What keys?”
The fire that ignited behind Valerie’s eyes had Franco, Damon, and Alarik slowly melting into the background until they’d slipped behind her and into the ballroom. The DJ, as predicted, was calling the bride and groom to the floor for the garter and bouquet toss.
Franco left them, inserting himself into the crowd, trying to act natural, and Alarik smiled as Damon pointed toward the dance floor with his chin.
“Single men on the floor for the garter toss,” he said with a companionable smile. “Unless… Maybe you aren’t single.”
Alarik’s lips tilted upward as he wondered the best way to respond. Something told him to play the moment safe. He’d been watching Damon all evening, devouring his every expression and greedily enjoying the time in his presence, even when Todd and Franco were nearby, ensuring they dug no deeper than the surface.
He kept his mouth shut and nudged Damon toward the dance floor with his shoulder. They shared a quick smile and Alarik noticed the other man’s dusting of freckles for the first time.
God help me, he thought. He wanted to kiss them. How was he supposed to make this situation work?
CHAPTER FIVE
This was the awkward part. Damon wanted to do a lot of things he didn’t have the courage to do. If he were like Luke, he’d ask Alarik point blank what his plans were for the rest of the weekend, and if he could be a part of them. If he were Franco, he’d pull Alarik to the side, say something endearing and end up making out for three hours. If he were Todd, he wouldn’t give a shit one way or the other. Damon was ambivalent about the best approach.
The only man he’d been with since the gut-wrenching breakup with Kenny was that asshole Andrew. He’d gone to college with Kenny and a study group session led to their first kiss. There wasn’t much effort involved—it was an almost natural progression. Damon went to a family event with Luke and Andrew sought him out. Once again, his general discomfort with romantic beginnings was overshadowed by a stronger personality. Andrew was persistent, aggressive.
Luke, Todd and Franco had often asked why he didn’t go out and play the field. Experiment. Have one-night stands. That wasn’t Damon’s way. He didn’t subscribe to the belief that just because he was a young, gay man he had to be a stereotype. He’d been to one gay bar. It was an incredibly awkward experience for him. He hadn’t danced, he’d been so out of his element that he actually fled the bar and ended the night with a medium pizza and Seinfeld reruns. The men who’d approached him had made him feel like…a fraud. Like he wasn’t gay enough. It was weird and he’d realized immediately that it wasn’t going to be the way he met available men. He couldn’t handle it.
Damon didn’t understand how he left his house this morning, certain that dating wasn’t a good idea for him, then wound up trying to poke holes in that decision by the evening. His attraction to Mandy’s friend was inconvenient. Even as he enjoyed Alarik’s powerful confidence and sharp wit, he found it disconcerting to imagine being on the receiving end of it. He’d noticed the scorn in Alarik’s face as he spoke to Andrew and while Damon knew he wasn’t the target of that stinging tongue, it wasn’t inconceivable to think he might one day be. Damon was the simple, easygoing type. Could he be a suitable contender in the give and take of interaction with Alarik? The thought that he probably wasn’t irritated him.
As much as he pretended not to listen to Mandy go on an on about Alarik at the rehearsal dinner, he’d paid attention. When he lined up their respective stats side by side, he didn’t know what to make of it. Alarik was a widely known and sought after photographer. His dad, or maybe it was his uncle, was a diplomat or worked for a diplomat… Damon was simply a cog in the family business, peddling sporting equipment and dispensing athletic advice. Alarik traveled the world on exotic photo shoots. Damon went on local hikes and mountain climbing trips. Alarik rubbed elbows with famous models, actors, and actresses. Damon babysat his nephew, shared beers on the front porch while arguing with his sister, and ate barbecue with his parents on Sunday nights.
He was mostly happy with his life, but glamorous, it was not. Obligations were the order of the day. If Alarik was looking for polished, genteel company, Damon wasn’t going to meet those expectations. And if Alarik was the type who needed that company, than he didn’t meet Damon’s expectations, either. The first man he introduced to his parents was going to be worth the effort; he’d decided that long ago. For some reason, meeting Alarik made him think of what it would be like when that day finally arrived.
Jostled to the side by one of The Law Turds fighting to catch the garter, Damon slipped off of the dance floor when no one was watching. He needed a minute to himself to catch his breath. He strode down the richly appointed hall and noticed one of Mandy’s bridesmaids involved in a game of Capture-The-Flag with another wedding guest—her flag was apparently hidden beneath her dress. She was losing.
Damon took a sharp left before the pair noticed him and it got even more awkward. As he turned the corner, he caught the eye of the desk clerk, shrugging one shoulder as he passed her. She blushed and went back to pretending she was unaware of the spirited wrestling match going on only steps away.
On his way to the exit, a member of the serving staff dressed in bow tie and black vest appeared from behind a door that said “Staff Only” in unobtrusive lettering. Damon remembered the cake he promised Davey and hailed the server. He ended up following him through the staff door and down a hallway that was stark in its simplicity, to a stock room that was brimming with takeout containers of all sizes. Damon grabbed one and tried to offer a tip that the server waved off. The guy didn’t appear inclined to talk beyond gestures, so after he led Damon back out to the lobby, they parted with a simple nod.
Alarik was standing in front of the main entrance doors and though Damon knew it was cowardly, he raced back to the ballroom, staying out of sight. He still needed that minute to figure himself out and he didn’t trust his mouth to say the right thing if Alarik discovered him and chose that moment to approach.
There was a lot of cake left on the table and Damon shoved two slices into the takeout box. Jess probably wouldn’t appreciate the largesse. Out of habit, he glanced at his watch and saw that it was after ten. Mandy and Luke were supposed to be taking a limo to a hotel in L.A. so they could catch an early morning flight to Jamaica. If Thackerey thought that they could drive themselves in the brand new BMW, he didn’t understand how trashed his daughter and son-in-law had planned to get at their wedding reception.
Luke and Mandy had already abandoned the crowd to change into “traveling clothes” and as much fun as it was blowing off life to celebrate with them, Damon was relieved it was nearly time to leave. His introversion was fighting to reassert itself. He wanted to get away from all of these people, even the ones he loved deeply, and soak in the calm of solitude; recharging worked best when he did it on his own. He’d take standing behind the counter at the store by himself over the lag created by a solid week of wedding events. If he ever got married, it would be in a small ceremony in his backyard.
Damon caught sight of Todd and Valerie across the ballroom locked in some sort of staring contest. His friend was glowering down into Valerie’s upturned face. She looked as though she was silently pleading with him and Damon knew this wasn’t about a stolen car key. Todd’s scowl softened, but he shook his head and left Valerie there to watch him walk away.