Empty Nests (12 page)

“I’m awake,” he mumbled.

“No, you’re not,” James said very gently. “Now hang up your phone, try to get a drink of water, then crawl into bed. I’ll talk with you when you get back.”

“Next time I come to Prague, you have to come with me. Save me from the Prague people.” Gabe giggled at something that was apparently funny in his own mind.

“Promise. Now hang up and go to sleep.”

“Miss you,” Gabe mumbled one more time, then hung up.

James looked at his phone for a long time while the little voices in his head argued. Gabe missed him. Gabe had also been drunk. Gabe wanted to have sex with him. Gabe had been shitfaced wasted.

James sighed and filed it all away for later; he was already running late.

T
HE
LARGE
soup bowl in James’s hand was filled with a thick mix of beef, tomatoes, garlic, Italian spices, and about half a dozen different vegetables, drowning a few anemic strands of spaghetti, the necessary excuse for his mother to make her sauce. He passed the bowl to Dylan before grabbing his own.

It had been over a month since he’d gotten around to visiting his parents, despite them still living barely a half hour away. His mother had sent him an e-mail, informing him she was making spaghetti, knowing full well it was a culinary bribe to see her son and grandson. He took his seat at the far end of the fake-wood Formica-and-aluminum table his parents had gotten when they were married. His mother had always sworn that when they had the money, she’d get herself a proper wood dining room set, but something else always took priority.

Once everyone had their food in front of them, there was a moment of quiet. Not that any of the Marons were particularly religious; it was more a family punctuation mark separating predinner discussion from dinner conversation.

“How have you boys been?” his mother asked.

“Dad’s got a boyfriend,” Dylan blurted out.

“About time,” James’s father stated from the other end of the table.

James felt like he was fourteen again and about to die of embarrassment. “He’s not…. We’ve…. We’ve just been out a couple times. That’s it. We are still a long way from ‘boyfriend.’”

“Anywhere close to boyfriend is a good thing.”

“Mom,” James whined. The embarrassment was not subsiding.

“Who is this not-yet boyfriend?” his father asked.

James knew there was no way he was getting out of this grilling. “He’s just this guy I met.”

“His name’s Gabe. He’s an executive with a tech company, he’s a bit older than Dad, I think, he’s hot, and he’s got to have money.”

“Dylan!” James snapped.

“Am I wrong on any of those points?”

“No, but—”

“Executive?” his father repeated.

“He took Dad to a charity garden party at a country club.”

“Which is completely beside the point,” James cut in. “He’s a nice guy, we get on well, I don’t know how far or how long it’s going to go, but for now it’s quite nice, and I’m going with the flow. Is everyone okay with that?”

His mother patted his hand. “It’s just fine, dear. It’s nice to know you’re seeing someone. Your father and I still worry about you out there on your own.”

G
ABE
KNEW
he was somewhere over a bunch of flat states, the sun was up, and his body couldn’t figure out if it was supposed to be asleep, awake, or flat-out dead. Tamyra was asleep, and Gabe figured he should follow suit, but his brain wouldn’t settle down. According to his phone, he had called James around 2:00 a.m. Prague time. He had no real memory of this and was frantically hoping he hadn’t said anything too stupid. He’d lost one relationship over a drunk dial, but he hadn’t gotten a “fuck off and die” text from James yet, so he was hoping he was okay.

His thoughts settled on James and slid into the gutter. He wanted to scoop James up and drag him off to bed as soon as they landed, but that was out of the question because James was a goddamned virgin. That thought both excited and terrified him no end.

The idea that he could be James’s first was an exciting one. Gabe had been around the block a couple of times and knew some interesting things he was sure James would like. But there was also the fear he could screw up, scare James, put him off sex. He didn’t want James to think he was just looking for something physical or that it was some sort of requirement.

He sighed. There was no point in planning ahead until he found out how bad the drunk dial had been, so he closed his eyes and tried to catch some sleep.

J
AMES
WAS
bored half to death, scraping some really nasty virus-infected porn out of the temp files of a university-issued laptop, when his phone rang. He didn’t even bother to look at caller ID. He was glad for the distraction.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me. I just landed. Catch you at a bad time?”

James perked up. He’d been hoping for any distraction but hearing Gabe’s apparently sober voice was a perfect one.

“No, it’s a great time. Just deleting images of women doing weird things with asparagus from a university-issued laptop.”

There was silence for a long moment. “Are you joking?”

“Wish I was. And if I wasn’t gay before, I sure am now.” James deleted another image. This one involved some sort of root vegetable.

“Okay. Um…. To completely change the subject, would you like to go out this Friday night?”

“Sure. Yes.” James started up the virus scan for a third pass. He’d been hoping that Gabe might call within a few days of getting back from his trip; he certainly hadn’t expected one the minute he landed. “Do you have anything in mind?” He hoped it wasn’t anything too fancy. Despite Dylan badgering him on dating rules, he felt guilty every time he didn’t pick up his half of the check. Never mind the fact that Gabe’s picks were usually well out of James’s budget.

“I was thinking I could come up there. Pick you up after work. We could make a second attempt at a dinner out, then maybe a movie, make out in the car?” Gabe’s voice heated up.

James heated up too. “I can get behind all those ideas.”

“Good. Friday it is.”

“Friday.”

As Gabe hung up, James wondered if he should have mentioned the drunk dial. It could very well be that Gabe didn’t even remember doing it, let alone what he’d said. He decided he was going to let it slide. Embarrassing Gabe wouldn’t serve any purpose, especially if it interfered with getting to the making-out part of a date.

G
ABE
’
S
CAR
purred as he weaved through street traffic. He understood the practicalities behind having a personal driver during work hours, but he still loved getting behind the wheel; always had. That didn’t mean he had a huge garage with a hundred cars, though he could afford it. He had four: a six-year-old Prius in storage, a new Tesla for the commute, and when he was playing Uncle Gabe, an Audi R8 Frank had talked him into getting after a particularly difficult product launch, coupled with an equally difficult breakup. He kept meaning to sell it. And then he had his Mustang. Vintage 1968, she was a deep green and ran better than when she’d been new. He wasn’t sure if James was a car guy. Possibly not, considering the Lemon Drop, but he’d yet to meet anyone who hadn’t enjoyed the Mustang. On the open highway, it felt like driving sex.

He saw James standing on the sidewalk and quickly double-parked. “Hop in,” he shouted through the passenger window. James looked startled and quickly got in.

“Hi.” James looked around as if he wasn’t quite sure where he was. “Nice car.” Gabe pulled back into traffic, but he still took a second to turn and grin.

“Thanks. It’s Friday evening, and I thought it would be as good a time as any to take the Mustang out for a drive.” Gabe pulled onto the freeway going against rush-hour traffic and opened her up a little. If James was any other date, he would skip the dinner and movie and instead just take him for a fast drive, then move on to other potentially car-based activities.

“So. Dinner and a movie? Anything in particular you want to see?” James asked.

Gabe had plans for something a little cooler than a multiplex and put more pressure on the accelerator. “I’ve got some ideas. Trust me?”

James was pressed back in the seat but was also grinning. “Sure.”

He had made reservations for two at a modern Mexican place that specialized in dishes from the state of Veracruz. He had no recollection of exactly which of a million lunch and dinner meetings had introduced him to the place, but it was a favorite. Though he was pretty sure he’d never used it for a date.

They were shown to a romantic booth for two, with candlelight dancing on the table. James took a deep breath. “It smells good.”

“You have to try the
arroz a la tumbada
.”

“Okay.” James picked up the menu. “What is it?”

“It’s, um, it’s Mexican paella.”

James scanned rapidly down the menu. “You seem to know a lot of good restaurants.”

“I don’t think there’s a restaurant in the Bay area I haven’t had at least one business meeting in.”

“You should write a guidebook.”

“Tempting.” Gabe was sure he could do it. He could name three other really good restaurants and a half-dozen other nice places within a ten-minute walk of where they were.

The waiter came and took their order. Gabe was a little embarrassed that James had a better accent than he did as he read off the menu. He consoled himself by pointing out he was spending a lot of time with a Russian/English dictionary, whereas James…. Actually he wasn’t sure where James might have learned Spanish, though he wouldn’t be surprised if it was around his neighborhood.

Before the conversation went any further, Gabe took a sip of his water and decided it was time to ask the big question. “I don’t suppose I called you the other night? Say at about 2:00 a.m. Prague time?”

James looked into his glass, but Gabe could see him trying to suppress a smile. “A call may have occurred.”

He closed his eyes and mentally braced himself for the coming humiliation. “Okay, what did I say?”

“You giggled a lot. Mumbled something about me saving you from the Prague people. Briefly talked about how you can’t swim on sand, then passed out.”

Gabe opened his eyes, the relief almost jarring. He figured it couldn’t have been too bad if James had said yes to a date, but it could have been so much worse. “Oh thank God. I’ve completely screwed up relationships by drunk dialing from foreign countries. If all I did was giggle and babble, I think I’ll live.”

“So you drunk dial a lot?”

Oops
, Gabe thought.
Way to make yourself sound like an alcoholic
.

“I try not to. I’m really not much of a drinker, but there are lots of places on Earth where major and minor deals are finalized with a ceremonial drink or fifty. I’m working on this deal in Russia right now. I want it to go through, but my liver is already dreading the final negotiations.”

James nodded, but Gabe couldn’t quite read his face. “That’s why you were hungover at that first lecture.”

“Very large deal, very large quantities of sake. And crying for mercy would only have dishonored myself, my family, my company, and my nation.”

“I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve been truly drunk.”

“I never drank to excess. I seldom drank at all until the first big international deal I was part of. It was in London, the paperwork got signed, and then it was all ‘let’s go to the pub, here have a whiskey, have a pint, have another whiskey,’ and the eight hours after that are all a bit of a blur. I’m told I ate a curry, a deep-fried Mars Bar, hit on the Minister for Economic Development, then got sick in the Thames. But that’s all hearsay.”

James’s expression finally broke, and he chuckled into his hand. “You’re going to have a lot of fun in Russia.”

“Tell me about it.” Their drinks arrived with perfect timing. Gabe was slightly regretting not ordering water. He watched as James took a sip of his wine and seemed to enjoy it. “So… asparagus?”

James dropped his face into his hands. “People borrow university computers, ignore policy on their use, or leave them laying around for other people to use, then forget to clean out the temp files.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Yeah.”

“And you can’t just hit Select All, then Delete?”

“We don’t go through all the computers by default, but if it’s picked up a virus, or it’s obviously been used for something outside the borrowing agreement, then we do.”

“That is really disgusting.”

“We get those disinfectant wipes for electronics in bulk.”

Gabe couldn’t help making a face. “You have my sympathies.”

James waved. “Someone’s got to do it.”

Gabe decided he needed to shift the small talk quickly, as the spicy crab-stuffed chilies he’d ordered arrived.

“How’s Dylan doing?”

“Still grounded, and needs to bring up his science grade. I’m not sure if he’s not focusing in chemistry or if he’s just not good at it.”

“I was okay with it, but my Auntie Loreen made me help out in the kitchen, so I could fudge the practical results.”

“I’m a terrible cook, and I know Dylan can’t cook either.” James took a bite of a chili. “I do wish I could cook these.”

“Told you this place was good.”

“You really need to write a book.”

They chatted about memorable culinary mishaps, which somehow turned into Gabe telling stories of international travel disasters and half-remembered drunken humiliations. By the time the cinnamon-banana ice cream was set in front of them, James’s face was flushed with laughter, and his smile was bright in the candlelight.

The phone in Gabe’s pocket had buzzed three times, but he’d ignored it. He was on a date. He was on a date with someone who didn’t make him want to stab himself with a fork. For a few hours, everything else could wait.