The Wrong Man (14 page)

Read The Wrong Man Online

Authors: Lane Hayes

BOOK: The Wrong Man
5.59Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

I took a sip of coffee and looked at Jake. He seemed slightly uncomfortable now that the excitement of my near miss with a Jeep had passed. He ran his hand through his hair carelessly and offered Derek a look I had no hope of translating. It was private. I felt like I was watching a foreign film. I could see something was happening between the characters but I didn’t know the language.

“We met by chance a couple months ago. Bran owns a home store on Melrose, just around the corner.”

“Small world.” Derek’s full mouth curled in a ghost of a smile.

“Sure seems like it,” I agreed with a grin. A glance at my watch told me I had less than twenty minutes till I needed to open BGoods. If I were going to get any info, I had to start asking questions. These two were obviously not sharers. “So, Derek, are you visiting for the weekend?”

He chuckled weakly but damn, it was a sexy sound. The man exuded an effortless sensuality that was seriously hypnotic.

“I drove down from Oxnard this morning and….” He glanced at Jake, who’d turned all his attention to Mack. “I’m not sure how long I’m staying. We’ll see.”

Cool customer. I wasn’t going to get anything from him, and the tension at this tiny outdoor table was a little too thick for me to enjoy my coffee. I’d have to grill Jake later. It was time to retreat. I stood and offered Derek a hand.

“Well, enjoy your day in fabulous WeHo. It was nice meeting you, Derek. Thanks for the coffee. Oh yeah, and for saving my life,” I added with a shrug. “I don’t know how to properly say thank you for that, but—”

“No need to thank me. You’re fine, and that’s all that matters. Nice to meet you, Brandon.” Derek smiled at me kindly and shook my hand.

I leaned over to pet Mack and gave Jake a pointed look before heading up the street to work. “See ya, Jake.”

I didn’t get far. Jake called my name, hurrying after me as I neared the corner. I stopped and waited for him to navigate around a group of tourists. He grabbed my elbow and pursed his lips together thoughtfully as though he had no idea what to say now we were sort of alone.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Embarrassed but fine. So… he’s the ex, eh?”

I shot a quick look toward the table to see Derek sneak a piece of croissant to Mack. I felt that same flash of ridiculous jealousy. My beautiful, bright Saturday morning was turning into a fucking nightmare. Between nearly being run over, then saved by my ex’s ex, then feeling jealous of the gorgeous man’s relationship with a dog I’d become very fond of, there was no denying I was feeling like the odd man out. It was stupidly childish, but hell, this was my gayborhood, damn it!

“Uh, yeah.”

“He’s… hot.” I almost looked at the divine Derek again but caught myself in time.

Jake gave a humorless half laugh. “Right. I didn’t expect him and…. Are you around later?”

“I don’t know. I—”

“I’ll call you,” Jake gave me a lopsided smiled and leaned in to kiss my cheek. “Oh, and Bran….”

“Hmm?”

“Wait for the light, and for the hell of it, look both ways before you cross the street.” He turned away before I could think of a snappy comeback.

 

 

M
Y
MOOD
was off the rest of the day. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the type of job where I could bury my head in computer work and hide from the public. I had to paste a smile on my face and act like I gave a shit about which color lampshade best complemented the fabulous new patterned pillows strewn across the generous sofa in the middle of the store. Today, I truly didn’t give a fuck. I wanted the day over so I could go dancing and lose myself in loud music and a techno beat.

I didn’t want to think about Jake or why his ex was in town. Or whether or not he was spending the night. It wasn’t my business. At all. Jake’s ex-boyfriend’s sudden reappearance was a wake-up call. It was time to sever ties with my past once and for all. Jake was a nice guy with a great dog, and yeah, I was definitely infatuated. Red lights had been flashing since he’d first walked into my store two months ago, but I’d ignored my personal creed to never revisit the past. I was an idiot.

“If you keep checking your watch, I’m going to start thinking you don’t like my company,” Lorenzo singsonged playfully as he folded a stack of linens in the back room.

Five o’clock. One more hour. I gave him a vague smile as I fingered the edges of the fabric.

“Just one of those days. Don’t worry. Your company makes everything worthwhile, Lo. Thank you for being you.”

“No need to thank me,” he said, fluttering his eyelashes.

The flippant reply was exactly the same response Derek had made earlier after saving my ass. The memory made my skin itch uncomfortably. Fifty-nine minutes, I thought glancing at my cell phone. I wished I were a runner suddenly. I had so much excess energy, I felt flustered and boxed in. The clubs wouldn’t be bumping until at least eleven o’clock. What the hell was I going to do for five hours? I could hit the bars first, but I didn’t care about alcohol. Tonight I just wanted to dance and start over again.

“Bran, what is it?”

“Nothing. I swear. What are you and your man doing tonight?”

“Tony’s working. Again. Bor-ing. No plans yet. You?”

“I’m going out out out. Somewhere with pretty disco balls, rainbow glitter, and gorgeous men in very little clothing. Wanna come?”

Lorenzo’s eyes lit up gleefully as he spun on his heels in a move worthy of a professional and struck an exaggerated dancer’s pose with one hand on his hip and the other in the air. “Why not?”

I giggled at his antics. A sharp knock on the door startled me. Lizzy peeked in and gave us a mock admonishing raise of her brow.

“Someone is here to see you, boss. And yeah, Josh and I are hopelessly outnumbered on the floor. Help!”

I sucked in a deep breath and took another look at my watch. Fifty-five minutes and counting.

“Come on, Lo. Our public awaits.”

Lizzy hadn’t been joking. The store was mobbed. It looked like a tourist bus had broken down at the curb, and everyone decided to shop at BGoods while they waited. I didn’t know what to think of the sudden influx, but I wasn’t a dummy. It was time to sell.

I skirted a couple of shoppers, stopping to answer a few questions along the way as I made my way to the front desk. I came to a halt when I spotted Jake leaning carelessly against the counter with his arms crossed, looking very comfortable.

“Need something to brighten your living, dining, or bedroom, sir?” Oops. What the hell was wrong with me?

Jake turned with a wide grin and a lascivious expression that made my mouth go dry. “You can brighten my bedroom, eh?”

“Uh….”

“A speechless Brandon Good? What’s going on in the world?”

“Ha-ha. What can I help you wi—Where’s Mack? And don’t you have company?”

Jake sighed and uncrossed his arms. “Mack is with Derek. I’m not sure what they’re doing but—”

“Bran, can you please help Mrs. Hirschfield with the new shell bottle collection? I’m with another customer.” Liz was in high stress mode. I had to step in before she snapped.

“Of course. Tell her I’ll be right there.” I glanced over at my client and waved before turning back to Jake. “I’m sorry. It’s inexplicably busy and—”

“I see. Um, look, I’m….” Jake’s earlier cool seemed to leave him as he pursed his lips and took a desperate look around him for inspiration. “Are you free tomorrow for breakfast or brunch? It’s—”

“I don’t kno—”
Don’t do this
, I warned myself.
Don’t say yes to anything.

“Bran-don!” Lizzy yelled from across the store, balancing four Euro-sized pillows in her arms. She looked frazzled and at the end of her rope.

“I have to go.”

“I’ll text you later.” He leaned in to kiss my lips and caught the side of my mouth when I turned my head. He gave me a funny look, wrinkling his brow in bemusement.

“Bye, Jake.”

I gave him a weak smile that went nowhere near my eyes before turning away to help Mrs. H spend her husband’s money. It wouldn’t be easy, but I had to compartmentalize my feelings and do my job. I’d figure out how to sever ties with Jake for good in the morning.

 

 

T
HE
LINE
outside Halo later that evening was insane. Thankfully I knew the owner. Tonight I was too antsy to stand in a line sprawling a block and a half down Robertson Boulevard. Dressed in my
tightest fire-engine red jeans and a snug white T-shirt with
suggestive cut-outs, I strutted to the entrance and gave the bouncer
my name. Lorenzo flirted shamelessly with the men we were usurping in line in an attempt to keep the drama to a minimum while an enormous muscular man dressed entirely in black and armed with a clipboard, a headset, and a ridiculous sense of importance perused his list. When he found my name, he jerked his head grudgingly toward the red rope cordoning off the masses from the über-hip club.

I breathed an instant sigh of relief as we made our way inside the dark club. Halo’s gimmick was any and all things heavenly. The go-go boys wore skimpy white G-strings with tarnished-looking wings attached at a jaunty angle to their sinfully sexy bodies. They usually lost the wings at some point during the evening, and some of them lost their underwear too. Huge disco balls were dropped through prism-colored “clouds” from the ceilings with oversized glittery stars. The effect could have been schmaltzy, but it was tasteful enough to be considered fabulous instead. I loved the huge dance floor in the middle, the glass bar backlit with flashing rainbow lights, and the tiered platforms where pretty go-go boys and wasted patrons shook their asses to remixed techno music.

Lo and I bypassed the bar and headed straight for the dance floor, taking our place among the sweaty, scantily clad young men who’d come to lose themselves for a few hours on a Saturday night. I’d had a couple margaritas at the bar we’d stopped by first and had just enough tequila in my system to make me feel relaxed. I threw my arms in the air and shook my ass in time with the driving beat. I was finally in my happy place.

Until things went sideways.

When you’re dancing in a crowded gay dance club on a Saturday night in WeHo, you better expect contact. In fact, it’s best if you come looking for it. Sexy, shirtless men showing off their impressive toned bodies as they gyrate suggestively… it’s a typical night on the town.

So when possessive hands settled on my hips from behind, I instinctively leaned back into my fellow dancer’s hold. I let him shimmy and slide against my ass to a remixed mash-up featuring Rihanna. I was living in the moment, and it felt really good to let go of my worries while writhing with a random guy for a blip in time on a darkened dance floor to the incessant beat of a song I loved. Chances were very good I’d never recognize the man slipping his hands under my T-shirt in the light of day. It was a harmless flirtation for the length of a song or two.

When my dance partner wiggled his fingers under my seriously tight jeans to feel skin he needed an invite to touch, I knew it was time to put the brakes on. I turned in his arms, intending to give him a friendly warning. But I froze instead.

“What are you doing?” I yelled above the din.

Trevor gave me a sly grin and wrapped his arms around me. We were chest to chest, hip to hip, and the meaningful thrust of his pelvis made it very clear what he was doing. I pushed out of his hold and scowled at him fiercely before weaving my way to the bar area. I had no idea where Lo had gone, but he couldn’t be far. Trevor followed me closely.

The music was loud at the bar too but lower than on the dance floor. There was a slightly better chance of being heard here. When I reached the far end of the bar, I turned to Trevor. He was so close I stepped on his foot. He winced before giving me a lascivious grin.

“Trev—”

“Baby, let’s dance. No talking. No worries. Just dance. Come on.”

He threaded his fingers through mine and wrapped an arm behind me so I was trapped with my back against a bar chair. I felt his breath on my neck when I turned my head to avoid his lips. It wasn’t like Trevor to be so forceful. He must be wasted, I thought. I pushed at his chest and was contemplating kneeing him in the nuts when someone came up from the side and shoved him away from me. Hard. He stumbled back a couple of feet and collided with a group of men behind him.

It was a surreal scene. A perfect domino effect took place as one man bumped into the next, sending two drinks flying. A glass on the high table fell and shattered as the table wobbled. It all happened so fast, it was hard to register what had occurred. I looked at Trevor and the other guy, who was blocked from my vision by an enormous bouncer. Their hand motions indicated a heated argument, but I couldn’t tell for sure.

“You okay?” Lorenzo was suddenly next to me with two shots of tequila. He gave me one and inclined his head toward the action taking place next to us. “Drink up, honey. You need this more than I do.”

I took the shot glass and looked over to see what was going on. The bouncer stepped to the side and grabbed hold of the man standing next to Trevor. He was obviously escorting the troublemaker out. I craned my neck, half expecting to see Trey being led by the arm. I certainly didn’t expect Jake.

“Holy shit!”

I set my empty glass on the table littered with spilled cocktails and went after them.

The din of the club gave way to a different kind of cacophony as the door opened onto the crowded sidewalk. The bouncer was reading Jake the riot act about club rules and behavior. It was kind of funny hearing the overly muscular thug berating a fireman on his lack of proper etiquette. I felt a surge of righteous indignation and stepped forward to give him a piece of my mind.

“Do you know who he is?” I began with my hands on my hips.

“Bran—”

“Do not talk to him like you know something he doesn’t about decorum. If you think a glorified walkie-talkie and—”

“What’s your name, sir?”

“What’s it to you? You have no right to bully—”

Other books

The Great Indian Novel by Tharoor, Shashi
Heartsick by Chelsea Cain
The Ottoman Motel by Christopher Currie
Loving Lucy by Lynne Connolly
Trapped by S. A. Bodeen
Project Terminus by Nathan Combs
Darkest Hour by V.C. Andrews