Dreaming of You (12 page)

“There you are.” Logan came toward me. “I thought you forgo… What the hell happened?”

As the other man and the girl from the airline followed Logan over to me, I smiled and shook my head. “It’s nothing, some guy on the flight called me a fag, so I had to kick his ass.”

The lady from the airline got a look of panic as Logan asked, “What?”

“I’m kidding.” I started to laugh. “I tripped over the strap”—holding up my bag with the broken strap dangling—“and took out a chair.”

Logan rolled his eyes, letting out a big sigh, and stranger-guy began to smile.

“Are you okay?” the airline lady asked. “Do you need to see a doctor?”

“I’m fine.” I removed the ice pack so she could see it was just a small cut. “The flight attendants took good care of me.”

“Poor baby!” Logan wrapped his arm around me. “Here, let me take your bag.” He took the bag from me. “You really are a klutz, aren’t you?”

“So not making me feel better,” I said as the airline lady turned and walked off.

Logan gave me a soft peck on the cheek. “Sorry.”

“He’s not very good with subtle, is he?” stranger-guy asked.

“God, I’m sorry.” Logan shook his head. “Aden, this is one of my best friends, Sam. He wanted to come with me to get a look at you.”

“Great.” I held the pack up to my forehead.
Come to see the hick?
“I’m the circus freak, nice to meet you.”

Sam looked to be our age. He had brown hair, which was styled forward and spiked up in the front. He was attractive in an intellectual college professor-looking way, the kind of professor that all the students had a crush on. I think it was the glasses. They could be dumb as hell, but slap on a pair of specs and I’d think the guy was a smarty. He seemed very polite in a reserved way and very comfortable in his own skin.

“The way Logan’s been chattering away over the past months about you, I couldn’t resist.” Sam reached out his hand, then stopped, remembering mine was in use for the moment.

“You’ve been annoying your friends by talking about me too much?” I asked.
Great, they hate me already. Well, fuck them, that’s cute as hell
. “You’re so sweet.”

Logan wrapped his arms around me and kissed me. I opened my eyes to see Sam standing there. He smiled weakly, unfolded and folded his arms back, and looked away. Shenanigans! I screamed in the back of my head as the hair on my neck stood up at the realization of the situation I’d just walked into. Logan pulled away and looked at me.

“Okay, invalid, let’s go get your luggage so I can get you home and nurse you back to health.”

I was thoroughly enjoying the attention I was receiving due to my injury. As we began to make our way toward baggage claim, I got little bits and pieces as to the history of Sam and Logan’s relationship. When they first met, Sam was a bartender in one of the gay bars in West Hollywood—the same bar he now managed and co-owned. Logan had just moved to LA at that point and, other than the people he worked with, didn’t really have any friends. Sam was sort of the key to Logan’s social circle, not so much in that he was the ringleader, but more along the lines of it being Sam who brought Logan into the fold. Since pretty much every friend I’d ever met had been through work, the whole situation seemed weird. I mean, the words “into the fold” were actually used. What the hell was that all about? What is this, the gay Mafia? I couldn’t tell if Logan was acting differently or if I was just being supersensitive.

Finally, after what seemed to be forever, we made it to the parking lot. After the morning I’d had, I was ready for a shower, some sex, and a nice relaxing evening curled up with my man on his couch. We dragged my luggage off the shuttle, and I followed the two of them to Logan’s car. As Logan began to open up the back of his car, I stopped in my tracks.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said.

“What?” Logan asked, turning around to look at me.

“A Jeep,” I continued, as Sam looked at Logan and smiled. “Well, that’s not gay.”

“That’s Jeep Wrangler to you, mister,” he said in a deep voice.

“I’ll take
Issues With Homophobia
for two thousand, Alex,” I said.

“The official automobile of the butchie wannabe,” Sam said. “Subtly stating, I may be queer, but I’m no sissy.”

“Fuck you both.” Logan shook his head, giving us both a dirty look.

I looked at Sam and smiled as Logan began to roll up my hanging bag filled with clothes I’d spent a good hour ironing. As he shoved it into the trunk space, I placed my hand over my face and shook my head.

“What?” Logan asked, looking at me.

“Never mind.”

“You dumb-ass,” Sam explained, “you wadded up his clothes.”

“It’s no big deal.”

“Sorry, muffin.” Logan winked with a sexy smile.

“Please don’t tell me he refers to you as if you’re food?” Sam asked.

“I was just trying it out.” Logan laughed.

“For all I care, he can call me his little ass whore as long as he gets me out of this godforsaken airport,” I said, causing Logan to stand straight up and Sam’s mouth to fall open.

“All righty.” Logan slammed the gate shut on the Jeep and threw my carry-on into the backseat. “Let’s get moving then.”

Sam turned and began to climb into the backseat.

“I’ll get back there, Sam,” I said.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, I’ll sit back there with my bags.”

We all piled in, and Logan pulled out and made his way through the lot. As we pulled onto the street, I looked at the sky, squinting. I began to dig through my bag for my sunglasses and the wind blew harder as the Jeep picked up speed. The contents of the bag were clanking around as I found a half-empty bottle of water and took it out, setting it in the seat next to me. Next, I came across my lip balm and set it aside. We drove down the street with the sun beating down and the warm wind blowing over us. Turning up toward the bright, sunny sky, I began to wish I’d brought some sunscreen. Finally, I found the glasses and ripped them out of their case. I looked forward, shoving them on my face, to see Sam watching me with a smile and Logan looking back through the rearview mirror.

“What?” I asked, trying to talk above the wind and noise of the other cars.

Sam glanced at my bag. “Okay, if I’m ever stranded on a deserted island I hope like hell you’re with me.”

I rubbed the lip balm on with my finger. “It’s just a few things.”

Logan adjusted the rearview mirror. “For just a few things, it sure was heavy.”

“Okay, fine, I can’t help it. I hate needing something and not having it. Sue me.”

Logan shook his head disapprovingly as he switched lanes. “High maintenance.”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing?” Something hit me on the forehead. “Ow.”

“What’s wrong?” Logan asked.

“Something hit me,” I answered, rubbing my head.

“Probably just a bug.” Logan nodded.

“Oh, gee, we…” I started as something flew into my mouth. I panicked as I began to gag and choke. I leaned over the side of the Jeep and began spitting while scraping my tongue with my fingers.

“Are you okay?” Logan asked, slowing down a bit as Sam turned around in his seat and began patting my back.

I sat back up and opened the bottle of water, chugging down as much as I could before needing to breathe. My eyes were watering from the gagging. “I think I just ate a bug.”

“Damn, baby.” Logan reached back and squeezed my knee. “You’re having a rough day.”

“I’ll be fine,” I said, drinking some more water. “I just need to take a shower, crawl into some pajamas, and curl up with you, and everything will be fine.”

“Shit, Aden, I forgot to mention this in all the commotion. I have this catering tonight. I thought I could get out of it, but the client was really upset when she found out I wasn’t going to be there to oversee everything. They do a lot of business with the restaurant, so I couldn’t say no.”

“Oh, well, I understand of course.”

“I’m sorry, Aden.”

“Well, I’ll just hang out at your place until you get home.”

“’Fraid not,” Sam said, looking back at me. “The guys and I are going to take you out.”

“Huh?” I asked.

“Well, I didn’t want you sitting at home alone on your first night in LA, so the guys offered to keep you entertained.” Logan peered back using the reflection in the rearview mirror.

“They couldn’t wait to meet you,” Sam said, smiling.

“And I was planning on meeting you all down at Sam’s bar as soon as I can get away.”

“Great,” I said with a smile. “That’s great…good plan…great idea.”
Fantastic! Stuck in a new city with a group of strangers, and I look like I’ve taken a cheese grater to my head.

“Are you sure?” Logan asked.

“Sure,” I answered, patting Sam on the shoulder. “I’m sure they’ll take good care of me.”

Sam gave me the once-over, along with a pity smile. “We’ll bring him back without any…additional marks on him.”

By the time we made it back to Logan’s, it was a little after eleven o’clock. I couldn’t believe the amount of traffic, which according to Sam was nothing compared to rush hour. At home, you could get from one end of town to the other in fifteen minutes, thirty minutes max during rush hour. We’d dropped off Sam, who said he’d be back around sixish to pick me up for dinner. I couldn’t wait…an entire evening of scrutiny and me with no man shield. I was a little irritated but there really wasn’t anything I could say without coming across like the Wicked Bitch of the Midwest.

Logan had mentioned that he lived in a condo, the thought of which I didn’t find all that appealing. I suppose I was expecting Melrose Place. His condo was housed in an apartment-like community, which didn’t mean quite the same thing in LA. At home, it meant cheaply put-together square buildings with vinyl siding and decklike stairs. In LA, it meant a resortlike five-star hotel. Architecturally, the building was very grand and six stories high with some type of white stone exterior and huge windows. We came in through the main entrance into a large lobby with furniture, a front desk, and everything. I was shocked and a little uncomfortable. There were people everywhere, going to and from a huge gym. I’m not sure exactly what it was, except maybe the fact that when I go home, the chances of running into a neighbor were rare. Here it was inevitable, with hundreds of people living in one building. It was like a giant ant farm.

The lobby was tastefully done with marble floors, rich colors, and overstuffed chairs placed about in groupings. It almost made you feel guilty if you didn’t stop and socialize, like it’s mandatory to get to know your neighbors. As we walked along, Logan was smiling, waving, and saying hello to people. He looked like a politician running for office. The whole thing seemed extremely odd to me. This was how I behaved at work. The thought of having to do this once I got home felt utterly wretched.

His place was on the top floor. As I walked through the door, I was impressed. It was very modern and loftlike with sixteen-foot ceilings. The exterior walls were almost entirely glass. The floor plan was very open with dark hardwood floors running throughout. The walls were painted in a light grayish brown color, like putty, with large modern-style artwork sporadically hung throughout. The east wall of the living area was covered with built-ins with a large flat-screen hanging in the center. As you walked in, the kitchen was directly to the left and had stainless steel cabinets with doors that opened up as opposed to out. The matching stainless appliances looked very high-end, and the dark granite countertops sparkled as Logan flipped on the lights. A pot rack, with an impressive array of cookware dangling from it, hung over an island that opened into the dining area, and from there it was a step down into the living area. It was sparsely decorated with black leather and chrome furniture.

The view from the windows in the living room overlooking the city was phenomenal, by far my favorite thing about the place, along with the large balcony. A very stark contrast to my little English Tudor house filled with clutter and chaos. Logan had great taste, it just wasn’t my taste, and it seemed odd to me that anyone raised in that big beautiful old home in Atlanta would want to live any other way. I guess I just expected his style to be an extension of his mother’s. It was a shock to me realizing how much there was we still didn’t know about one another. It made me wonder what he was thinking when he set foot into my house.