Better Than Safe (12 page)

Seth gave me a sideways glance then shrugged. “My dad beat the shit out of me, the great state of Maryland intervened, and I did some time with a couple foster families. The first one sucked or maybe I was a prick. I can’t remember. But the second one saved me.”

I swallowed hard, hoping he’d fast forward to the happier parts of his history. “How?”

“They were… cool. Not overbearing, not condescending, just supportive. Myron and Elodie Davies. I still see them every once in a while. I actually saw them that weekend we were in Baltimore. They’re good people who want to do the right thing. Their oldest son was gay. He killed himself when he was sixteen. Wrote them this letter about being sorry he wasn’t who they wanted him to be and he didn’t want to embarrass them. They were devastated. Completely wrecked and horrified he felt they wouldn’t accept him. So they made it their lives’, I dunno… calling, I guess, to help LGBT teens whose parents really
did
have a huge problem with their sexuality. Like mine.”

“They sound special.”

“They are. Very special. They’re the type of people who go above and beyond. They talked about college and my future in a way that made me think I might actually have one.” He stopped and pointed up the steep steps leading to the museum. “It’s a gift I can never repay. Their niece is the one who introduced me to a modeling agent when I said I wanted to wait on college. The rest is history. Here we are. Let’s go check out some dinosaurs.”

He started up the steps ahead of me, taking his umbrella with him. Misty sprinkles of rain fell into my eyes, blurring my vision slightly as I stared at his retreating form taking the stairs two at a time like an excited schoolboy. I swiped my hand through my damp hair and grudgingly smiled when he turned at the top and waved. I had no idea what I was doing. This was a very strange day indeed, I mused.

I
FOLLOWED
him into the grand rotunda of the Natural History Museum, admiring the ornate three-tiered balcony and generous natural lighting. But it was the enormous stuffed elephant in the middle of the space that screamed for attention. Seth informed me the animal had been dubiously billed the “biggest elephant ever killed by man” in a 1956 issue of
Sports Illustrated
.

“Fucking criminal,” he grumbled as he led the way through the Hall of Mammals.

As we navigated the throngs of visitors, Seth played the part of tour director and pointed out the artifacts he found most interesting, like the replica of the forty-five-foot North American Right Whale suspended over the main exhibits in the Ocean Hall.

“Is this crazy or what? It’s hard to believe anything living could be so big. It makes you feel pretty damn insignificant.”

Seth’s awed tone made me smile. I nodded in agreement, looking up to study the large creature, though the truth was I found my companion infinitely more interesting. Seth was alternately infused with childlike wonder and something akin to careful nonchalance as we passed though the various exhibits. I could almost envision him as a young boy bouncing excitedly around this very space.

“You seem to know this museum well.” I stuffed my hands into my pockets and stepped aside when a renegade group of munchkins jockeyed for position to check out a giant squid nearby.

“Yeah. I came here a lot as a kid. I was like them,” he said, tilting his head toward the gaggle of youngsters pointing animatedly from one exhibit to the next. “I haven’t been in a while, but every now and then I stop by to get away from it all. This place puts things in perspective for me. I’m just a small human taking up the tiniest fragment of space in the universe. This is my place to get in touch with the innocent part of me. The little kid I used to be who was always filled with wonder. I like the fact I can still look up at a Basilosaurus and think ‘holy fuck, that’s big’ instead of checking my cell for messages or wasting time worrying about things in my grown up life I can’t control.”

“You have a philosopher’s soul.”

He squinted as he turned. “What makes you say that?”

“You draw parallels between life and literature or”—I made a sweeping motion with my hand—”science. You think. Perhaps too hard sometimes, but I would think it translates well in your work as a painter.”

Seth considered me for a moment thoughtfully with his arms crossed. It was a funny thing to be standing in the midst of family bedlam, dodging prams and pint-sized people while discussing philosophy. Funnier still was his serious expression as he contemplated my observation. I made a silly face to break him from his reverie. He smiled and uncrossed his arms, regarding me for another second before finally speaking.

“You know, I’m kinda picky about who sees my work, but—well, if you’re interested….”

“I am,” I replied cautiously.

“Cool. I’ll call you.” He must have seen a hint of skepticism in my expression because he quickly added, “I will. I promise.”

“I suppose this is where I warn you not to make promises you can’t keep but… all right. If you call, I’ll come by.”

His brilliant smile transformed his gorgeous, angular face into something extraordinary. I made myself look away, coughing to cover up the embarrassment of staring a couple of seconds too long. He was a bad idea. Chaotic, untrustworthy, immature… take your pick. Was I really this big of a sucker?

E
VIDENTLY
I
was. Because hours after we parted ways, I was still thinking about Seth. The problem was I wasn’t mulling over his brashness and undependability. Or reminding myself to steer clear of him, and perhaps to even change my cell phone number. No. I was picturing the way the light shone on his impossibly dark hair and how his lovely blue eyes twinkled in delight as he shared some of his favorite marvels of the museum. I couldn’t hold on to my anger or my so-called pride. It was a slippery combination of his potent charisma and the sad but true realization I was beyond help.

The only cure was to get out and meet other men.

J
ACK
’
S
INTIMIDATED
me. It was a sleek gay bar in Dupont
catering to “manly” men. Leather daddies, muscle studs, or tatted motorcycle aficionados. In other words, not my scene. At all. I didn’t own much leather unless my shoes or maybe the leather bomber jacket I’d been given for Christmas six years ago by a lover who obviously hadn’t known me well counted. And while I spent some time in the gym, it was only to maintain some modicum of tone. I simply didn’t have the patience or time required to put any real musculature on my lean frame. Nor was I interested. And I didn’t have a tattoo. Or a motorcycle. If it weren’t for Curt, I would never in a million years agree to meet anyone at Jack’s. Sure, it was a nicer than average, well-appointed pub with antiqued mirrors, leather seating and interesting lighting, but I felt a tad self-conscious in my khaki trousers and button-down Oxford shirt.

I wondered idly if I should invest in a plaid flannel shirt for my occasional visits here as I craned my neck around a six-foot-three tree trunk of a man who was practically as wide as he was tall. He was immoveable. I was going to have to get his attention to pass if I wanted to get to the bar. I tapped on the man’s heavily tattooed bicep and shouted above the din of the music.

“Pardon me.”

The man shifted slightly allowing me enough room to slither by, bumping elbows and shoulders until I reached the circular bar with its tufted leather façade and gorgeous overhead pendants suspended by thick straps of leather. I spotted Curt at a high table off to the side with another man whose back was turned to me. It wasn’t Jack. He was behind the bar chatting with a couple of patrons, wielding a martini shaker like a pro. As I neared the table, I realized the handsome athletic-looking man with dark blond hair was Matt, Aaron’s boyfriend.

“You made it!” Curt called out as I stepped up to the table. “Grab a seat. What do you want to drink? I’m going to ask Jack for another round.”

Curt stood and squeezed my arm affectionately as I greeted Matt with a handshake and took the vacant leather stool next to him. “A vodka martini, up please.”

“Okay. Another beer, Matt?”

“Hmm. One more. Aar’s going to be home soon.” Matt glanced briefly at his cell phone, then smiled over at me as Curt left to place our order. “I haven’t seen you in a while. Curt was just saying you’ve been traveling a lot.”

“Yes, but I’m home now with no plans to travel for a bit. Thank God. Aaron told me your news, by the way. Congratulations.”

Matt grinned widely, his lovely eyes twinkling with genuine happiness. He emitted an infectious aura of joy that made it hard not to respond with a huge smile of my own.

“Thank you. We’re excited. Did he tell you we set the date? October 25. After his majesty’s birthday so there’s no conflict.” Matt chuckled, nodding in mock exasperation at his fiancé’s fussiness.

“Well, a conflict of interest is never a good thing. That’s brilliant. I’m thrilled for you both. Is Aaron meeting you here?” I gave a cursory look around the crowded space and took a moment to acknowledge I couldn’t imagine Jack’s being Aaron’s kind of bar either.

Matt scoffed and shook his head in amusement. “No. I’m going home. Aaron’s been with Jay all day checking out… I don’t know, wedding stuff. He’s got very particular tastes.”

“I know. In fashion, that’s a good quality. And speaking from the advertisement side, I’d say it’s a godsend.”

He smiled in agreement and tipped back the last of the beer in his glass. I studied his strong jaw with a hint of scruff, admiring his casual confidence. I knew Matt through Aaron and Curt. He was laid-back and easygoing, the perfect counterbalance to his excitable fiancé. I supposed Jack was like that for Curt too. He was calm and collected to Curt’s more uptight nature. I twisted slightly on my stool in time to catch a glimpse of the tall, dark, and gorgeous bar owner with his tatted left arm draped around Curt’s waist and his tongue down his throat. I refocused when I realized Matt was talking.

“The only worry is budgeting. Not Aar’s specialty. Or Jay’s. But I’m not ready to ruin their fun yet. I’ll wait and see what the damage is and hope he manages to keep it reasonable.”

“Good luck.”

“Here you go. Keep what reasonable?” Curt set our drinks down and flopped onto his seat like he’d run a marathon. “What’d I miss?”

“Wedding, Aaron, budget. Where’s your drink? Oh hey, and you can take this one for me,” Matt said pushing his empty glass toward Curt.

Curt shot a dirty look at him and reached out as if to obey before pulling back and flipping him off instead. Matt chuckled good-naturedly and raised his full glass in a mock toast. Curt and Matt had been close friends since law school. They’d even roomed together until Matt moved in with Aaron. Now both men lived with their partners and had embarked on new lives.

A stab of longing hit me out of the blue. I wanted what they had. The idea of coming home to someone I cared for sounded almost… idyllic. I hadn’t been in a serious relationship in over six years and I’d come to cherish my freedom. I liked coming and going as I pleased and never worrying about running my ridiculous travel schedule by someone who might get their feathers ruffled if I wasn’t where they wanted me to be. I’d listened to my friends’ quarrels about visiting relatives or attending work soirees with a sort of strange relief. I was perfectly happy as a lone wolf. Until now. Maybe it was running into Seth again and realizing I was back to square one.

Curt slapped Matt’s shoulder hard and laughed. “Dude, one of those three words doesn’t belong. I’ll give you one guess.”

“Budget?”

Curt snorted then turned to me with a wink. “He’s not as dumb as he looks.”

“Aaron may just surprise you. He’s quite savvy really,” I commented, taking a sip of my cocktail.

Matt beamed. “He is. I’m more worried about the guest list getting out of control, but we’ll deal with it. It’s just… I don’t know, kind of fun.”

“How is planning a wedding fun?” Curt scoffed.

“It’s hard to explain. I—I used to have this… dread. The concept of marrying someone and being tied for life sounded like a prison sentence. But now I think it’s a matter of finding the right person because I can’t wait to make this legal.” Matt shrugged as he reached for his beer.

“You’re lucky,” I said. And fuck, I meant it. But Aaron was fortunate too. Matt was obviously besotted.

“I am,” he replied. “And so is Curtster. He wants to hang out giving me shit all night like I’m not noticing how many times he’s checked out the hot guy behind the bar.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I’m just wondering where the hell my drink is.” Curt grinned unabashedly when Matt coughed a muffled sounding “bullshit” then turned to me. “So how’s the advertising game, Paul?”

I chuckled at their antics and launched into what I hoped wasn’t a boring account of a couple of new projects I’d begun recently. I mentioned some advertisement in Aaron’s magazine, thinking it might make fashion advertisement more interesting to two lawyers who didn’t know much about my field. Matt’s eyes lit up, naturally. He started to comment when we were interrupted by the arrival of Curt’s gin and tonic.

“Hey boys. How’s it going?” Jack set the drink in front of Curt and left one proprietary hand on his man’s shoulder. I noted the mild display of affection as I clandestinely admired the intricate designs of the sleeve tattoo showcased lovingly by his snug-fitted black T-shirt. There was no denying Jack was one sexy man. “Nice to see you again, Paul. It’s been a while.”

His smile was friendly with zero trace of the cautious suspicion he harbored when we’d first been introduced. He knew he had nothing to worry about. In fact, he probably always knew it, but now he was able to accept without issue that Curt and I had become good friends. It kept things easy and strangely enough, for two men with close to nothing in common, we’d managed to become friends over the past couple of years. We made basic small talk for a while until Jack was waved back to the bar by a harried looking bartender.