Something Like Rain (Something Like... Book 8) (46 page)

“Does this mean the guy in Austin will be moving up here?”

“No,” William had replied. “We’re not together anymore.”

They hadn’t been together for years, but only now did that statement feel true. He hadn’t contacted Jason for nearly two months. No letters, calls, or texts. William was slowly feeling like he had moved on, but then DADT died, and suddenly those discarded dreams were found washed up on the shore. They still couldn’t share a home, and the Coast Guard still wouldn’t recognize a marriage between two men. The love William felt would no longer have to be kept secret, but that didn’t change the demands of his job, or how often Jason would be left alone.

Faced with three days of downtime, William decided to get away from it all. He took a Greyhound bus north to Boston and checked into a hotel. The first day he spent sightseeing, visiting the New England Aquarium and exploring the Boston Harbor. The next day he did some window shopping, walked the Freedom Trail, and ended up at the USS Constitution Museum. So much for getting away from it all. He kept finding himself drawn back to the water. It didn’t help that, while at the museum, he saw two guys standing close together, their voices a murmur. Occasionally one touched the other in ways much too intimate to be platonic.

William decided he needed a little assistance when it came to forgetting. Booze should do the trick. As he walked back toward the city, he kept his eyes open for a welcoming bar. Preferably one without televisions blaring sports. Eventually he noticed a door with a rainbow sticker on it, and if this wasn’t indication enough, a stack of the local gay newspaper was just beyond the entrance. He’d never been to a gay bar, or
any
bar for that matter. He wouldn’t be twenty-one for another two months, but he’d heard other guys talk about how a military ID could open a lot of doors, so he decided it was worth a try.

The bar interior was dim, and while it did have a television, it was currently broadcasting a talk show. Not many patrons were inside, probably because it was a weekday afternoon. The few there turned to look in his direction. William felt his cheeks flush. He hurried to the bar and ordered a beer.

“ID,” the bartender said without much interest. He didn’t seem too awed by the military identification, but the math must have been close enough because he nodded and grabbed a tall glass. William glanced around while he waited. An older man with gray hair sat at the corner of the bar. A table by the window was occupied by two middle-aged guys sharing an animated conversation. Deeper in the interior was an empty dance floor and more tables, only two of them in use.

“Here you go,” the bartender said, sliding the glass toward him.

“Thanks.” William gave the guy a ten-dollar bill and told him to keep the change, mostly because he wasn’t sure how much a beer cost or how tipping worked at a place like this. The bartender took it in stride and went about his business, leaving William alone. He had never been a big drinker, although he was a lot more experienced these days. He still had to hide his revulsion during the first few sips, but he knew if he kept going, the beer would start to taste better. Before long he had reached the bottom of the glass. His head hummed with a nice buzz, his troubles already distant.

“Can I get you another one?” the bartender asked.

William nodded. “Please.”

“Another for me too,” a voice said, someone sliding onto the stool next to his.

He glanced over in apprehension, his nerves increasing when he saw how hot the guy was. His dark hair was short and brushed to one side, a hint of copper highlights bringing color to the brown waves. He was gangly, although not in an unappealing way. He had broad shoulders, a hint of stubble on his chin, and eyes the golden color of honey. Or beer, which was soon set before them.

“Mind if I join you?” the stranger said.

William shrugged. “Fine by me.”

The man continued to study him. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m just trying to decide which of my pick-up lines would work best here.”

“Bottoms up?” William suggested, raising his glass. The other man laughed. William joined him. They drank from their glasses, eyes locked while doing so.

“What brings you to Boston?” the man asked.

“How do you know I’m not from here?” William challenged.

“You don’t have the accent.”

“Neither do you.”

“Case in point. I’m only here on business.” That explained the salmon-colored dress shirt he wore, and the dark gray suit jacket resting on the next stool over. “What about you?”

“Pleasure,” William said. Was he flirting? He didn’t exactly mean to. He turned his attention to the television, which was now on a news channel. A woman celebrating her one-hundredth birthday was smiling for the camera. Then it changed to the weather, making him sit upright.

“I come up here once a month,” his companion was saying. “Still haven’t gotten used to the crazy streets. I spend most of my trips here lost.”

“I know what you mean,” William murmured, still focusing on the television as he sipped his beer. The meteorologist was making his predictions, which William ignored, since the media loved to make people think a hurricane was always imminent. Instead he paid more attention to the satellite time-lapse of cloud movement.

“This time I decided to rely solely on taxis. More expensive, but less time wasted, don’t you—”

William held up a hand, the weather forecaster pointing to a swirl over the Atlantic that he felt was a potential hurricane. At the very least, another tropical storm was blowing their way. When a commercial for pizza replaced the weather map, William blinked and looked over at the man next to him.

He seemed amused. “You’re a coastie, aren’t you?”

William took another drink. “That obvious?”

“I’ve known a few through my line of work. The only people who take weather more seriously are meteorologists and my grandma.”

“What kind of work do you do?” William asked.

“Aviation industry. I’m not familiar with the local bases though. The nearest one I’ve been to is down in Cape Cod, so don’t worry, your secret it safe with me. But hey, I guess that’s not an issue anymore now that what’s-it-called has been repealed.”

“Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” William said, attempting to wash away the bitter taste in his mouth. “Can we pretend it’s still a thing? I don’t feel like talking about my career.”

“Neither do I,” the man said, eyes sparkling. “Why don’t we make a game of it? We’ll promise not to be honest with each other from here on out. Starting with our names. What’s yours?”

William opened his mouth to answer, then clamped it shut again. “Umm…”

“Scott,” the man said. “You look like a Scott. Or maybe an Adam. Yeah! I like that better. You’ll be Adam. What should I call myself?”

“Steve,” William said, the joke intentional. He was definitely flirting!

“Adam and Steve,” the man said musingly. “Why not? Nice to meet you, Adam.”

“Nice to meet you, Steve.” William clinked glasses with him again, surprised that only a small amount of liquid remained at the bottom to swish around. “So what is it you do for a living?”

“I’m a ringmaster at a circus,” Steve said, puffing up his chest as if he were talking about repairing cars. “Yep. That might sound like glamorous work, but when I’m not in the spotlight, I spend most of my time wrestling tigers back into their cages and trying to get the elephants to take their vitamins.”

“Sounds rough,” William said with a grin. He nodded when the bartender pointed to their near-empty glasses. “I’m a movie star.”

Steve looked suitably impressed. “I thought I recognized you from somewhere!”

“Probably from the movie about the bottled-water addict. My character can’t stop drinking it, which isn’t so bad until his increasingly frequent bathroom breaks start to interfere with his personal and professional life.”

“
Watered Down
,” Steve said. “That was the name of it!”

William grinned. “You’re quick on your feet!”

“I’m quick even when I’m not on my feet,” Steve replied. Then he made a face. “That sounded better in my head.”

He felt grateful when the bartender set down another round because it gave him something to focus on. Steve was cute, but William hadn’t thought this through. He either needed to leave at the end of this drink, or start pretending he had a boyfriend.

“So what brings you to Boston?” Steve asked.

“I’m studying for my next role.” William nodded to their surroundings. “Right now, in fact.”

“You’re going to play a bartender? Or a drunk?”

William leaned close and whispered, “A homosexual. I’m not gay.”

Steve sighed dreamily. “Those three little words always get my heart pumping!”

“You have a thing for forbidden fruit?”

“Apples in particular. Wanna take a bite?”

They laughed together, Steve looking him over. “You’re not really straight, are you?”

“Adam Beefcake is.”

“Your last name is Beefcake?”

“Yup! Don’t look so surprised. Very common name. It’s Danish in origin. What’s yours?”

“Ironrod.”

“That’s…” William narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Scottish?”

“Exactly,” Steve said. “I’ve got a kilt on beneath these slacks. It’s a tight squeeze down there. Enough about me! I want to learn more about Adam Beefcake. Who is the man behind the legend? What’s his life like?”

“Not as perfect as you might think,” William said. “Being a movie star is very time-consuming, and that’s rough on my personal life. My girlfriend and I just broke up, in fact. We’ve been on the rocks for years, but now it’s really over. In theory.”

“How so?”

William shrugged. “I’m having a hard time moving on.”

“I see.” Steve nodded thoughtfully. “I might have a cure for that.”

William’s chest felt tight. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. We could get out of here. If you want.”

He did. And he didn’t. Jason returned to his thoughts, as he so often did, but maybe only out of habit. Jason had been his lover for more than two years now. William had once thought of Kelly just as often and couldn’t imagine sleeping with anyone else until he actually had. If he was going to move on, that meant being with other people, and what better way to start than with an anonymous encounter? That would help wipe the slate clean.

“Can we finish our beers?” William asked. “I don’t uh… I don’t usually do stuff like this.”

“Perfectly fine,” Steve said easily. “I understand. So without getting too real, if you could have any profession other than what you actually do, what would it be? An actor?”

“No,” William said. “A firefighter, maybe. I dressed up like one for Halloween once. Actually, I dressed up like a Dalmatian wearing a fireman’s hat. Man, I haven’t thought about that for years!” He rambled about a long forgotten dream. Steve did the same. This took the pressure off, enough that by the time he pushed away his empty glass, William was relaxed enough to ask a time-honored question. “My place or yours?”

Steve smiled. “Mine’s just down the street.”

They settled their tab and stumbled outside. The sun still hadn’t gone down. In the brighter light, they sized each other up again, laughing when catching each other in the act. The dimness of the bar hadn’t hidden any flaws. Steve was a good-looking guy. The dressy clothes brought back warm memories of Kelly, although he had never worn a full-blown suit. That was kind of hot. Maybe he could talk Steve into leaving it on while William blew him.

The thought made his face flush as they walked. Were they really going to do this? Would it be hot? Or awkward? They were in a hotel lobby now. Last chance to bail. He didn’t. When the elevator doors closed and Steve pressed him up against the wall, William met his lips, the taste sweet, like they had been drinking different types of beer. He inhaled through his nose, taking in the musky scent of cologne. A tongue slid against his own, a hand gripped his pec, and something hard pressed against his hip. Then Steve pulled away, facing the opening elevator doors as if nothing had happened. He looked over with an innocent expression that was betrayed by a smirk.

“I hope you don’t have any plans tonight,” Steve said.

“None,” William answered, his breath still short.

“Good.”

As they walked down the hallway together, a number of concerns rose in William’s mind. This was a stranger! What if he was a murderer? Did this make him a slut? What about STDs? Each worry that bobbed to the surface was soon drowned in a sea of beer, no rescue swimmer in sight. Steve used a card to unlock one of the doors, flicked on the lights, and gestured for him to enter. William looked around the generic room for hints of who this person really was, seeing only luggage and a closed laptop on one corner of the queen-sized bed.

“Care for something to drink?” Steve asked, gesturing toward the minibar fridge.

“No,” William said. “I’m good.”

“That remains to be seen. But first, a couple of ground rules.”

“Rules?”

Steve nodded. “You military types like structure. Right?”

William shrugged. “I’m not into being dominated, if that’s where this is going.”