The Right Words (14 page)

I sat on the love seat with my laptop. Occasionally I’d look up to see the action on
The Voice
, but my attention was on my blog that night. It was my guilty pleasure. No one knew about it. Not even Brandon. For some reason, it felt very personal and I wasn’t ready to share. My readership was sparse, but that wasn’t important. Writing had always been my first love, and I’d come to an epiphany one night when I was messing around online that maybe this was my way to get back to it. I could blog about interior design. It wasn’t fine literature by any stretch, but it was a start.

A sharp rap at the studio door jolted me from my musings. I jumped up to find Michael standing in the doorway leaning on a cane with a huge Cheshire cat grin on his gorgeous mug.

“No more crutches?” I couldn’t hold back an answering smile. He looked so pleased and proud of himself.

“Nope. I think I can lose this thing soon too. I’m supposed to exercise my knee and start getting back to normal activities.”

“That’s awesome. Does it hurt or—”

“A little but I’m making good progress.”

I nodded. While I couldn’t help but think it was cool he was sharing his good news with me, somehow it seemed like we were chatting about the weather. There was a strange tension in the air. I swallowed hard and started jabbering nervously.

“Great. Well, the demo’s done, and the plumber will be here tomorrow to get started so….”

“Good. Can I come in?”

“Oh… oh my gosh! Yes! I’m sorry. I—”

“Luke, relax. I need to talk to you for a minute and— Why are you looking at me like that?” His brow was furrowed as though he was studying me carefully for clues. Good luck.

“I’m not lo—come on in. I was doing some writing. No big deal. I made some popcorn too. Would you like some? Something to drink?”

I stepped out of the doorway and walked toward the mini fridge. I had diet soda, popcorn, and M&M’S to offer. Yum.

“Water would be great.” He smiled and sat gingerly on the love seat, stretching his long legs in front of him. I tried not to stare as I went to get the glass of water, but damn he looked good. He was wearing a faded pair of jeans and a light blue oxford shirt. Casual but dressy enough to look sexy as hell. I gulped and willed my hand not to shake when I set the glass on the coffee table in front of him.

“Here you go. Help yourself to the popcorn too.”

“Thanks.” Michael reached for a handful of popcorn. Seconds later, he sat up a little taller, scrunched his nose in distaste, and spit the popcorn in his mouth into his hand.

“Gross! What are you doing?” I tucked my feet under me and squirmed away from him in disgust.

“What did you put in this popcorn?” His incredulous expression paired with the fact he’d spit his food out like a toddler seemed a bit overdramatic. And kind of funny.

I hid my grin and took a handful of the scrumptious snack. “M&M’S, silly. Not arsenic. It’s delish. Try it.”

“I did. That is disgusting. Why would you ruin perfectly good popcorn by killing it with chocolate?”

“Ruin it? I enhanced it! It’s the perfect blend of sweet and salty, although I did go light on the salt. I try to eat as healthy as possible.”

Michael sputtered and looked at me like I was an alien. “What are you talking about? You put
chocolate
in popcorn. How is that even remotely healthy?”

“The popcorn is healthy. I simply jazzed it up with M&M’S and a teensy bit of salt. No butter. See, two concessions to a healthier snack. Low salt and no butter.”

Michael stared at me for a long moment as though trying to figure me out. I couldn’t help my snort of laughter. He looked so damn serious. It was popcorn, for crying out loud.

“I’ll make another bowl… without the good stuff.”

“No, don’t. I can’t stay. I need to—I got another letter.”

I gasped audibly as my hands flew to my mouth. I tried to say something, but frankly I was scared.

“It wasn’t just a letter, though. There was a picture too.”

“Oh God. Please don’t tell me it was a boiled rabbit or a dead horse hea—”

“Hey, don’t get so worked up, it was—”

“Don’t get worked up! Are you kidding me? I’m not equipped for this type of drama. I love a little gossip as much as the next gay, but honey, I’m talkin’ ‘he claims he’s nine inches and the boy is lucky to have six.’ You know what I’m saying? High-crime drama? No thanks. I have never successfully been able to watch an entire episode of
CSI
, any version of any city—”

“Luke!”

“Yeah?”

“Cool it. It’s not quite that dramatic. And definitely not gory, but it is….” Michael shifted uncomfortably, which wasn’t like him as far as I could tell. He struck me as the type who wasn’t easily ruffled. Although who could blame him?

“Is it compromising? Is it you with another guy?” I whispered theatrically. I didn’t mean to. My fragile psyche was having a hard time keeping up with this bombshell.

“Yes.” He took a slow sip of water but kept his eyes on me.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Neither picture is very good, but both are clear enough to tell the other party is male.”

“Both? More than one picture?” I sounded like a frog. Raspy and hoarse.

He nodded, still looking at me like I was… guilty. What the fuck was he not saying? I squinted at him, willing him to come clean and not make me play twenty questions. I wasn’t good at games.

“One of me and Jovan kissing. And one of me and you.”

“Holy fuck! Wait. Wait. This doesn’t make sense. We kissed once. Friday night. It was ama—but how would anyone take a photo? Are you being spied on? We were outside but still, I don’t get it.”

He remained silent. Eerily so. My eyes widened as I caught on to what he was inferring without words.

“You think
I
did it? How? Why?” I sprung to my feet and rounded on him. “Please tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Michael let out a deep sigh. He patted the seat next to him on the love seat, asking me wordlessly to join him.

“No. I won’t be accused of som—”

“Luke, please. I’m not accusing you of anything. I believe you’re—”

“Do not say ‘innocent’ like you’re giving me a break here. I have done nothing! Fuck you and your fucking crazy ex! Fuck this horrible old house and your—”

“Luke! Geez, just take a seat already!” His normally mellow tone turned up a few notches to blast me from my tirade. He certainly got my attention. I glared at him and crossed my arms tightly over my chest. When he spoke again, his voice was gentle, almost kind. “I know you aren’t responsible. I know. I trust you. I told you that, didn’t I?”

I nodded in acquiescence, but didn’t move a muscle. I would not be bullied. He inclined his head as if to say “Have it your way.”

“Here’s what happened. I picked up the mail Monday to find the same type of envelope Jamie used before, asking me to kindly wire twenty-five grand to his account. When I opened it, there was no note, just a photo. Kind of blurry, but I could tell it was from the same morning you saw me with Jovan. We don’t usually have any big good-byes, Jovan and I, but he was leaving to visit his family in Europe for a few months and… never mind. That’s not important.”

He looked away for a second before continuing. “I know it wasn’t you, but you were there. You had an opportunity to take the picture—”

“To what end?”

“Maybe you and Jamie were a little tighter than you let on. Maybe you’re part of it. Split the dough and—”

“First of all, did you really just say ‘split the dough’? Are we in a fucking Humphrey Bogart movie? And secondly, I never set eyes on Jamie until the morning he showed up here! Why would I— How wou—?”

“I believe you. I do. But try to see things from my side. Jamie hired you just around the time I got hurt. I kicked him out, but if he had you on the inside, he could still get to me.”

“That is ridiculous! You’re telling me you believe me in the same breath you’re giving me the reason and opportunity to betray you. You don’t make sense. I don’t get this.”

“I know. I apologize for bringing it up like this, but Tonio wouldn’t let it go, and he’s been pressuring me and stressing me out, so I just don’t know what to think anymore.” He paused to swipe a frustrated hand through his hair. “I’m at a loss. I really don’t know what to do.”

“Who’s Tonio?”

“My manager. He’s known me since I was teenager.”

“He knows you’re gay?”

“Yes.”

“You told him about the blackmail letter too, right?” I sat next to him and curled my legs under me.

“He knows everything. He gets soccer, the culture, the fans, my family. He doesn’t understand my attraction to men, but otherwise, we’re cool. He’s like a second father to me, and unlike my real dad, he actually knows who I am. And for the most part, he accepts me.” He scoffed, shaking his head slightly.

“I’m guessing you opted not to call the cops.”

“I can’t. Not without coming out. I wish it were simple.”

“It is. ‘I’m gay,’ that’s all you say. Things have changed a lot recently, Michael. You would not be the first professional athlete to come out. In fact there are many—”

“Luke. You don’t understand. It’s
not
so simple. Things may have changed in the world, but
nothing
has changed in my family. And certainly not views on homosexuality. It’s not a topic of conversation. It’s taboo. Not to be discussed. Get it? It’s a mortal sin.”

“Mortal sin? Is that worse than average sinning, white lies or—”

“Make sport all you want, but faith is real. I wouldn’t try to convince my parents their religion is fucked up. I don’t even believe that’s true. I think some doctrine is outdated for sure, but there are other parts I love.”

“What about the part that says you’re a sinner and you can never be happy?”

“That part isn’t so good.” Michael took a deep breath before he continued. “Look, I’m not sure I’m ready for all this shit. I’m walking with a fucking cane—”

“Temporarily.”

“True. But I’m boxed in. The knee, Jamie, my contract. I’m fucked every direction I turn. Absolutely fucked. And not in a way I might enjoy.”

“I’m sorry. I wish I knew what to say, but all I can think is Jamie shouldn’t get away with this. He’s bullying you. The authorities should be notified. If you won’t do that….” I shrugged. “I guess you take it one day at a time.” I offered a lame upturn of the lips to go with my lame advice.

“One day at a time,” he repeated thoughtfully, making an obvious effort to steer the topic toward something more pleasant. “Well, I don’t have anything better, so… I’ll go with that too.” Michael’s smile lit his entire face. It was a beautiful thing to witness. He was handsome always, but wow, what a smile.

“Was the picture of us good at least?”

This time he laughed out loud, a sweet, musical sound that made me chuckle along with him.

“Yeah, very hot.” He reached over and pulled me into his side effortlessly. “Look, I wasn’t trying to send mixed signals this week. I know I haven’t been around like I said I would. I… Jamie isn’t going to go away easily. This has been a weird blow to add to an already fucked-up situation, but… I like you and I
do
trust you.”

“You like me?”

He gave a small half chuckle and shrugged. “Un poco.” He translated when I gave him a blank stare. “A little.”

“I like you a little too.”

I couldn’t help my response at being near him. I curled into his side like a cat begging for attention. Michael wrapped his arms around me and kissed my cheek and my chin. I didn’t want a “friend” kiss, though. I wanted what he gave me Friday night. I wanted “that kiss.” I intercepted him when he leaned in to peck my temple and stuck my tongue out to trace the corner of his mouth. He groaned and accepted the invitation, diving and thrusting his tongue inside my mouth to stake his claim. His right hand traveled down my throat and came to a stop over my left nipple. He rubbed at the sensitive flesh through my tight T-shirt and squeezed hard when he heard my moan of approval.

I arched my back into his touch but kept my mouth fastened to his. I didn’t want to lose this connection. He bit at my chin and sent kisses down my neck as his hand dipped down to my belt and came to rest on my hardening cock. I whimpered and scooted onto his lap to straddle his thighs.

“Is this okay? Am I hurting your knee?”

“It’s good, honey. Really good.” Both of his hands splayed flat on my back and circled to the front to pluck at the fabric of my T-shirt. “Take it off.”

I didn’t have to be told twice. I was burning up. I yanked it over my head and tossed it aside before I began working on the seemingly endless row of buttons on his dress shirt. “Fuck. Help me get this off you. I need to feel your skin.”

I barely recognized my voice. I sounded breathless.

When Michael finally leaned forward to let the fabric slide from his shoulders, I met him halfway to feel his skin against mine. Heaven. He was simply beautiful, with finely toned washboard abs and gorgeous skin. It was smooth like mine but much darker. Olive against golden. I loved the contrast and I was anxious to explore. I let my hands roam, over his chest, down his stomach, and back again. My fingers itched to palm his cock through his worn jeans. Instead I fused my naked torso to his and ground my aching cock against his equally hard member. We both hissed, and our lips came together in a kiss that became something more like sex.

Michael flipped me on my back in a fluid, deft maneuver. I pulled at his hair to keep his mouth locked on mine. He plundered and sucked at me voraciously as his hips slammed against my pelvis. The feel of our jean-clad, raging hard-ons was sublime, but it wasn’t enough. Michael slowed his frantic pace, softening his lips and pressing gentle kisses along my throat and jaw before leaning his forehead against mine.

I missed his body weight the moment he shifted back on the small sofa.

“Damn, Luke.”

“I know.” I struggled to sit up as Michael shrugged his shirt over his broad shoulders. I could barely take my eyes off him. He caught me staring and smiled shyly. It struck me as crazy sweet, and I giggled like an idiot until he scowled at me.