MILO WALLACE

 

“That alpha hunk has been eye-fucking you all night, Milo-baby,” Lucian whispers as he presses his glossy lips against my ear.

My eyes drift from the handsome stranger to my friend, colleague, and roommate all balled up in to one. Lucian is short and thin and ever so cute. Wavy fresh-from-the-bottle red hair rests on his shoulders and his to-die-for figure is perfectly accentuated by his figure-hugging tee and painted on denims.

Lucian is awesome. Our friendship is new but familiar and we’re already omega BFFs. He prized the Ben & Jerry’s  Chocolate Fudge Brownie ice-cream out of my fingers, ripped off the Tweety-bird yellow bathrobe that I’d been wearing for longer than I’d care to admit, and dragged me down to Honey Bunz to get this job that I now find myself in.

I’m just a drinks-fetcher, which wasn’t my major at college by the way, but I’m really enjoying being out and experiencing life again. Being Milo again. I traveled across the width of the country for a fresh start and found myself in Sunnybrooke.

The journey was so exciting that I couldn’t even enjoy the in-flight entertainment—Ryan Gosling and Rachel Adams had to take a backseat to my journal. I sat there scribbling away. Imagining all the wonderful things I could do in my new home. How I’d finally kickstart the career that had been on hold for so long that opportunity was about to hang up.

The excitement didn’t last long. I turned on my phone to check my messages and there it was.

If you can make it there, you’ll make it anywhere.

I didn’t recognize the number, but I did recognize the tone. I shake the thought from my mind. Literally. I literally shake my head to get that man out of my mind as Lucian tries to hook me up with someone new.

“I’m not sure, Luci, maybe he’s just thirsty.”

“Oh Milo-baby, he’s thirsty alright. Thirsty for a tall glass of you. Hurry up and quench his thirst before someone else beats you to it. That cutie is here for more than a stiff drink if you know what I mean.”

I always know what he means. Lucian doesn’t do subtle.

But Luci was right, he did stand out from the regulars. The locals are short and skinny-fat while he’s tall and muscular. They wear loose-fitting faux western shirts and black-framed glasses with clear lenses while he’s dressed in a muscle-hugging Italian-cut suit that belongs in an upscale overly-expensive wine bar rather than a place that would need renovations to be called a dive bar.

“Maybe he’s waiting for a friend or something.”

“He’s looking to make a friend, Milo. He’s been here every night this week. Every. Night. And he just sits there waiting for you to take his order.”

“Oh, come on, now you’re making stuff up.”

“Milo Wallace, don’t make me slap you on that pretty face of yours. You know he is. I must’ve gone over to him ten times this week to ask him if he wants another drink, and he always says no; even if he’s got an empty glass.”

“Maybe he’s just not thirsty, ever think of that?”

“Oh, he’s thirsty, Milo-baby. That’s why he lets you take his order if his glass is full.”

I know he’s right. I hope he’s right. But guys like him aren’t supposed to go for boys like me. I’m a little softer than usual (thanks, Ben and Jerry) and my tummy is a little smooth. Sure, I feel much better now than I did when I was elbow-deep in ice-cream, but I don't know if I could take the rejection.

“I don’t know, Lucian, I don’t even know his name.”

“Sure you do. He’s rum-and-coke guy. He’s tall, and he’s hot, and he’s not Danny. That’s all you need to know right now, Milo-baby.”

I shudder when I hear that name. Hate even thinking of his name.

“What would I even say? ‘Hey, rum-and-coke guy. I’m Milo, Milo Wallace, want to come back to my place? Oh no, don’t mind all of the candy wrappers on the floor or the wet tissues on the nightstand, and try not to get your balls stuck in that half-eaten bucket of cookie’s and cream cheesecake core, I’m saving that for after. “

Lucian's lips curl into a soft smile.

“Hey, don’t you dare knock B&Js, it’s an after-sex cigarette. Besides, a guy like that doesn’t live at home with dad. He’ll have a mansion or a penthouse apartment or something. And, if you do decide to take him back to our place, make sure that you leave an empty tub on the doorknob so I can make myself scarce.”

We share a laugh. Lucian is amazing, and exactly what I needed after I left the Barkside. My new home was intimidating at first. It’s weird how you could feel so alone when you’re surrounded by thousands strangers yet so safe with just one friend.

“Well, Travis did say that someone’s been asking about me all week. Said he was real eye-candy too.”

My boss, Travis, is an absolute sweetiepie but he can be a bit of a hardass. He’s an omega in an alpha position and he doesn’t let anyone tell him what to do. I admire him, we all do, even when he’s in a bad mood—which has been as lot, recently.

“See! I told you he was checking you out. Your first month on the job and you’re already turning heads. I bet you’re glad I shredded that urine-yellow bathrobe now, huh?

Lucian linked his arm with mine and led me towards his table. His head was turned away, and I felt like I was going to explode, but I didn’t stop until Lucian let go of my arm just a few feet from his table.

“It’s now or never, Milo,” he said as he tucked a loose curl behind my ear.

His head was still turned. His fingers dragged along the rim of the glass. The music was loud, but I could still hear my heart race. I opened my lips to speak, but no words came out. I was just about to try again when I felt a clammy hand on my wrist.

I spun around expecting Luci only to find a beer-loose stranger.

He wore thick, get-in-my-van glasses that looked like they were from 1984. Not the movie, the year. A mop of thinning red curls—natural red, not Lucian-red—rested on his large head, and his freckled quick-to-sunburn pale skin was so white it was almost translucent. He was short and wide. Thick blue veins ran up his muscular forearms (the right noticeably more muscular than the left) and disappeared behind the black ink of a once-in-vogue tribal tattoo.

“I’ve wanted to ask you something all week, sweet cheeks.”

The confidence that Luci filled me with fluttered away. Maybe this is the guy Travis was talking about. He opened his mouth again, and the smell of garlic and beer seeped out.

“How would you like to earn a tip?” His eyes drooped as he said it. Nothing hotter than a guy that learns his pickup lines from a 90’s teen movie, I’m surprised Blink 182 didn’t come over the sound system.

His gruff voice was slurred from a night of heavy drinking, and his buggy eyes were magnified behind his large glasses. At least he doesn't wear clear lenses. His thinning hair swayed as air-conditioning pumped into the bar, and the breeze turned his warm grin cold.

“I asked you a goddamned question.” He said matter-of-factly, the earlier playfulness gone from his voice.

“Can I help you?” The new voice was deep and powerful: an alpha voice if ever I heard one.

A steady hand appeared on the bug-eyed man’s shoulder. My eyes climbed over the solid-gold Audemars Piguet watch and dragged up the fine Italian cotton coating his arm before stopping at his lips; which were still visible even with his thick well-groomed beard.

Rum-and-coke guy to the rescue.

“I’m talking to him, not you.” The bug-eyed man said curtly.

With what seemed like little more than a flick of his wrist, rum-and-coke guy spun the bug-eyed man around until they were eye to eye; well, eye to nipple. Standing six-foot-and-then-some, my ash-blond haired stranger towered over the red-headed nuisance.

“Now you’re talking to me,” He said.

The bug-eyed man’s back was to me, but his trembling shoulders told me that he probably wasn’t staring at rum-and-coke guy with the same anger he showed me.

The two shared a couple of whispers. Feeling a confidence that I hadn’t felt since I was a single man back west, I reached out and spun the bug-eyed man towards me; it took a couple of goes, and I’m sure rum-and-coke guy helped a little, but I’d like to think it was mostly me that got him to spin.

“How about you take your cheesy Stifmeister pickup lines and get your Ron Howard’s-weird-looking-brother ass out of here.”

His eyes were still cold, but his lip was trembling. It’s not like me to say something that cruel. Not even when I was back home. But there is only so much one boy can take. And he did look like Ron Howard’s brother. You know, that strange-looking dude that always pops up when you watch a movie from the 90’s? That guy.

The bug-eyed man shrugged his shoulder, and rum-and-coke guy let go. He let out a sigh and rushed towards the door. I leaned to the side and watched him leave, and when I turned back, I was face to face with my favorite customer.

“Thanks for that,” I said as my eyes danced from his lips to his eyes.

His ocean-blue eyes were so deep you could drown. His intense stare was intimidating but welcomed.

“I should be thanking you,” he said as his expressionless face warmed, “I think he was about to swing for me.”

I wiped my hand on my shirt and offered it out; he accepted it immediately.

“Milo Wallace.”

“Carter Bennett.”

Goodbye rum-and-coke guy, hello Carter Bennett: the man of my wet dreams.

“I knew he was a creep when I saw those To Catch A Predator glasses that he was wearing,” he said.

“Yeah, I’ve only ever seen them in police sketches, I didn’t know people actually wore them in real life.”

“I’ve seen more than my fair share, but they’re usually accessorized with a trench coat, bare ankles, and a van of questionable cleanliness.”

“I didn’t see a trench coat,” I chuckled.

“It’s probably out in his van. I’m sure he’d be willing to show you more than his ankles as well if you ask him nicely. Nicer than you asked him to fuck off.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong, Carter, I didn’t ask him to fuck off, I told him to fuck off.”

We shared a stare, and this time, I didn’t need to look away.

My confidence was stolen, but I feel like it’s coming back when I look at him. I feel like me again. I feel like the old Milo.

I was just about to ask my hero he wanted something to drink when Travis’s nose came into shot.

My omega boss was trying to appear alpha. He was wearing a way-too-tight black polo neck shirt. So tight that it makes you wonder if he thinks his gains will fall out if he wore something looser.

Travis looks up at Carter for a moment before turning his attention back towards me.

“I don’t pay you to annoy the customers. And I certainly don’t pay you to chase people out of here.”

Travis has been so short recently. His nostrils flare whenever he speaks as if he’s been caught downwind from a never-ending fart. I feel like asking what’s up but I don’t know him well enough to play counselor.

Old Milo, that sassy voice that I locked away, was telling me to cuss him out.

First of all, you don’t pay me squat. And speaking of squats, how about you stop skipping leg day, take a break from the bench press,  and use the freaking squat rack.

Ugh, but I need this job and Travis is a good guy when he’s not being an absolute penis to me and Luci.

“I’m sorry Travis, I’ll get straight back to work.”

I was about to turn and walk away when I heard Carter’s voice.

“He’s not disturbing me.” He said.

His body was still facing me, but his head was turned towards Travis.

“Well, I appreciate that, sir, but Mr. Wallace here is working right now, and he can’t spend all of his time on one customer.”

“Why not?” Carter asked.

His body moved towards Travis, and his shadow seemed to engulf the omega.

“Time is money, and I’ve got a place to run,” Travis replied. His voice cracked on every second word and, even with the AC pumping through the bar, sweat pooled on his forehead.

“How much is his time worth?” Carter asked matter-of-factly.

I felt like interjecting, but it was kinda fun to watch Travis sweat. Gosh, I won’t be winning employee of the month anytime soon.

Carter reached into his pocket and pulled out a black-leather wallet.

“Travis, is it?” Carter asked.

Travis nodded.

“I’ve been coming here all week, and I’ve probably spent more money than everyone else here combined. So, as your best and most valuable customer, I would like to know what it would take for you to let Milo here finish up a little early.”

“Five… Ten… Fifteen…” Travis stuttered, his face now a pool of sweat.

Carter took out five crisp one-hundred-dollar bills and squeezed them into the pocket of Travis’s skin-tight denim jeans.

“Travis, I’ve been coming here all week, and I’ve been watching you almost as much as I’ve been watching him. I’ve seen the looks you’ve given him, and I’ve heard some of the things you said—“

Travis looks as if he’s just stepped out of the shower, and I’m feeling a little wet myself. I’ve never seen anyone speak to him like that before. Yes, Travis is an omega and Carter is an alpha but I’ve never seen anyone speak to anyone like that before.

“He’s finished work for the night, and he might be a little late tomorrow. Is that going to be a problem?”

Travis shook his head like a dog that just hopped out of the pool. I had to step in to avoid getting hit by stray droplets.

“And I assume you’re going to be a little nicer to him from now on, right?”

Travis nodded slowly.

“Good. Because if I hear you speak to him like that—“

“And  Luci,” I interject. Lucian’s hips are resting against the bar, and his childlike smile tells me that he’s enjoying the show. He gives a thumb of approval and a told-you-so wink.

“If you ever speak to him or Luci  like that ever again I’m going to come down here, and I’m going to buy this bar. And I’ll buy any fucking bar or restaurant café that you ever work in again. Shit, if you open a hotdog stand, I’ll buy the street corner you’re parked on and kick your ass to the fucking curb. Understand?”

Travis nodded before turning towards me and forcing a smile.

“Milo, I’m sorry. I really haven’t been myself lately. You’ve been working so hard this week. Why don’t you take the weekend off?”

I grab my jacket from behind the bar and lean against Luci for a no-hands hug.

“Told you so,” he whispered.

I’ve never been so happy to be wrong.

The cold night air hits me like a splash of water on a late morning. Carter is right behind me, and I’m tempted to look over my shoulder to see if he’s telling hipster’s that he’ll buy the Starbucks they work at if they ever bump into him again.

He cuts an intimidating figure, but I feel entirely safe with him. He’s like a tank: you don’t want to see him hurdling towards you, but you’d be nice and cozy if you were inside of him. Er, not the best analogy (maybe I’m the tank, and he should be inside of me?) but I’ve not been this giddy for a long time.

“So, what now?” I ask as I spin towards him.

Carter pulls his phone from the inside pocket of his jacket and starts dialing.

“Yeah, I’m waiting outside.” He says before hanging up.

We share another moment. One of those moments where you stare at a guy’s face and hope he’s thinking and feeling what you’re thinking and feeling.

“The car will be around in a few minutes, but if you don’t feel like waiting, we can get an Uber.”

Jeez, I’d prefer to walk. I’ve had nothing but bad experiences with Uber drivers, and I still haven’t gotten used to the fact that they wave hello with a middle finger.

“We can wait, it gives us a chance to talk.”

Crickets.

We both just stare at each other. Confidence oozes out of Carter but he seems like he’s lost for words, and it’s certainly not nerves; his hands are steady, and his stare is piercing.

I was just about to say something when the bar door opened, and a couple poured out onto the street. They swayed in the wind and leaned on each other for support—like a human teepee.

Taking his hand, I dragged Carter towards the alley at the side of the bar.

“We can wait here for your limo to arrive.”

“How did you know it was a limo?” He smiled.

I didn’t. I was joking. Really, a limo? Last time I was in a limousine was prom; hope I don’t throw up this time.

Carter stepped forward and pressed his body close to mine until there was nothing between us but sexual tension. He makes me feel like me again: that boy from Barkside that wasn’t afraid to take a couple of risks. He wouldn’t run halfway across the country because of a guy. He wouldn’t sit in bed all day afraid that he might show up. He wouldn’t let a moment like this pass him by.

“Where’s that damn car,” I whispered as I tipped my head back and pointed my lips at his chin.

“Limo, remember?” He said as he leaned forward.

My breath quickened and my heart pounded.

Carter licked his dry lips as his eyes explored my body. He didn’t play coy or try to hide his desire. He didn’t try to play it cool or pretend that he was a perfect gentleman (even if he was dressed like one).

Carter eye-fucked me and he made no apologies for his wondering eyes.

His mouth hovered just above me, just high enough that his lips were out of reach. We stood there for minute, but it felt like an hour.

The cold air crawled up my leg like a spider, but it didn’t cool my want or my need. My breath was as clear as a smoker’s first puff and, with only the street light’s and the moon to keep us company, I watched as my breath bounced against his cheek.

He didn’t recoil in horror, so I don’t need a breath mint, but if he doesn’t kiss me soon, I think I might explode. Finally, he closed the last few inches of distance between us and pressed his wet lips against mine: my first kiss in my new home.

His hands, which felt more like catcher’s mitts, gripped my shoulders, and I felt my core tighten. I’ve only ever kissed two men before tonight, one was Danny, and the other was my prom date that shall remain nameless.

He tasted of peppermint and rum, but mostly peppermint. He must’ve slipped a breath mint before we got outside. His beard warmed my cheeks. I reached up and took a handful of his puppy-soft hair and pulled him closer. I could feel his lips open, and my knee’s danced when I felt his powerful tongue.

His strong tongue quickly overpowered mine. He explored my mouth as his hands explored my body. His giant catcher’s mitts moved down my body and rested on my hips before moving up towards my chest. Nothing could break our kiss, not even the had-a-few-too-many drunkards that were pouring out onto the street.

A hand glided up my body towards my nipple, and not even the fear of getting caught was enough for me to ask him to stop. My nips tightened into a point as he pushed his body forward and pressed me against the cold concrete wall.

Letting go of his now-tousled (thanks to me) hair, I reached forward and clutched his belt.

That condescending voice that Danny beat into my head piped up again.

You can’t do this!

But my old, confident voice drown it out.

Shut your Ben & Jerry’s Boston Cream Pie-hole.

My hand moved further south as my confidence grew, and a moan fell from my lips when I felt the girth of his cock through his expensive trousers. If his hands are mitt’s, then I think I’ve found the bat.

I struggled at his zipper as he moved from my lips to my neck. Soft kisses moved down my body as I struggled to open his pants.

“Do you have a condom?” I whispered.

The kisses slowed. Then they stopped.

Carter took both my hands in his and pressed them above my head. He was able to pin both of my hands to the wall with just one. His free hand cupped my head, and he dragged his finger along my jaw like it was the rim of his glass.

“You haven’t caught my scent?” He asked as his hand moved up towards my neck.

***

The warmth I felt in the alley stayed there, and I’m left with the cold. Luci has texted three times already, but I don’t know what to say. What can I say?

Kindred spirits are for omegas with working wombs, not broken down half-men like me. Gosh, why did he have to jump to that right away, couldn’t we bang a couple of times before I had to drop the I-can’t-have-kids dealbreaker.

But he caught my scent. How is that even possible. My nose doesn’t work, although I did feel something special when he pressed up close, and I’m not talking about the nine inches of alpha that were pressed against my leg.

He made it all sound so reasonable. Like this was a thing that happens in every alley on earth. He wants a son. Someone to carry his name. And he needs a husband. Someone stable and tender that is worthy of the Bennett name.

I thought he wanted me, turns out he just needs an incubator. He wants something I can’t give him.

But a part of me wonders what it would be like. To be his husband and to carry his child. To create something, someone, that is a mixture of the two of us. It’s a thought I shouldn’t allow to take root but I can’t help myself. I lost my ability to carry a child, it was taken away, and miracles don’t happen to omegas like me.

Maybe we could adopt.

I didn’t allow the thought to settle. He got out a lot of his feelings before I made myself clear and he needs a biological son if he wants his father’s approval.

Damn you Danny, damn you to hell and back again.

I clutched at my bag and thought of Carter. He gave me his business card and laughed at my words. He says I’m wrong, he says my nose mightn’t work but his is never wrong. I can’t allow myself to believe in his fantasies.

Miracles do happen, he said.

Right now I need a warm bath and a cold shower. The bath to get this Sunnybrooke weather out of my bones and the shower to get Carter Bennett out of my mind.

My phone vibrated in the cute floral-pattern tote bag that dad gave me before I left home. I stopped to answer. Maybe Luci can help. He always does. I reached inside, but a clammy hand snatched at my wrist before I could reach my phone.

“Clint Howard, that’s hysterical,” he said.

His red curls were blowing in the wind, and the muscles on his forearms twitched as he rolled his wrists around.

“Excuse me?” I asked as I looked down to avoid his buggy eyes.

My voice cracked more than Travis’s did when he was eyeball-to-nipple with Carter.

“Back in the bar. What was it you said again? Oh, that’s right, you said that I look like Ron Howard’s weirdo brother. His name is Clint, by the way. I Googled it when you and your boyfriend were dry-humping in the alleyway.”

If only I could go back to the alley and get my confidence back; I’m sure I left it on the floor somewhere.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I mutter.

“Oh, so you’re single then?”

He steps towards me with a smile-scowl on his face. I jump back and the bug-eyed man lunges forward and holds me upright with his slimy hands.

“No,” I reply as I shrug him off, “I have a boyfriend; fiancé, actually. He’s a cop… a detective.”

“Not much of a detective if his fiancé is getting finger-banged behind a bar.”

“We didn’t… He didn’t… It was just a kiss.”

My breaths are quick and sharp and visible. My entire body is trembling, and the cold has little to do with it.

“Still, you don’t want anybody getting the wrong idea. Maybe I should come back there with you and explain what happened. That the guy forced himself on you and you did everything you could to fight him off.”

His eyes warmed as they traveled my body. He looked at me without shame, but his gaze just felt dirty and seedy. My apartment was just two blocks away. Luci’s at work and will be for another hour. Two if he decides to have a drink. Meaning he won’t be home for two hours.

Tonight has been a night of swinging confidence. Up and down, left and right. One minute I feel like I can take on the world, and the next it feels like the world is beating me down. My lips open to scream for help when I think of Carter and the way he spoke to Travis: the power, the dominance, the confidence.

It’s not just the way he made me feel, but the way he made me feel about me. That I was cute and sexy and worthy of a man like Carter Bennett. I dragged my finger along the edge of the business card that he gave me as I pulled my hand out from my bag.

“That would be so kind of you. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

His large eyes widened even further. We both knew I was lying about the detective boyfriend. That’s why he’s trying to invite himself up. I still don’t see a trench coat or a van, but I’m not going to risk finding out if he does model the entire To-Catch-A-Predator ensemble.

“It’s just about five blocks up the street,” I lie as I twist to look down the empty street.

One foot stays on the cold concrete and the other travels north towards his south. I kick him so hard between the legs that he collapses to a knee. The sound of my heavy tote bag hitting his face barely masks his screams.

He crumbles to the floor and mutters dick and man-slut as I flick my ball-busting shoe at his face. With my self-defense tote-bag clutched to my chest, I run towards my apartment as the bug-eyed man sucks air.

***

Breathless, I burst through my apartment door and close it behind me. I rest my head against the peeling yellow paint of the oak before shaking loose flecks from my hair.

That’s the bravest thing I’ve done for a long, long time.

Our small (or cozy, as Luci prefers) apartment isn't much to look at, but it’s home, and it feels good to be behind four walls and a door. I place my battle-seasoned tote-bag on the counter next to an empty carton of hair-dye that Luci promised to throw away and open the fridge to grab some beef jerky because I’m in no mood to cook or to wait for takeout to arrive.

After two mouthfuls of beef jerky, I’m ready for that warm bath. The running water soothes my nerves, and I forget the bug-eyed man; he knows where I work, but I’ve got the weekend off. I’ll get my butt down to the police station first thing tomorrow, just in case. Might even meet a cute-and-totally-not-imaginary detective. Real or not, I doubt he’d make me feel as warm as Carter Bennett.

I close my eyes and think of the alley. Of that kiss that I shared with Carter Bennett. The heat I felt when he was pressed against me returns, but it disappears again when I hear hard knuckles bouncing off of my apartment door.

He didn’t follow me. I’m sure of it. I didn’t turn back when I was running (not even when I heard the toe-curling screech of tires on pavement), but I stopped at the door of my building, and he was nowhere to be seen.

God, maybe he was lurking in the shadows.

I sit on the edge of the tub and take short deep breaths to calm my nerves. He might’ve watched me enter the building, but he sure as hell didn’t see me going into my apartment. Maybe it’s a neighbor dropping off some misplaced mail. Or it could be Luci…

Of course.

Luci. One loud knock to see if I’d answer. He must be waiting outside, afraid that he might walk in on Carter and me halfway through…

I lift myself from the tub and make my way towards the living room. There’s a white, ink-wet sheet on paper lying faced down on the battered wood of the apartment floor.

Not Luci then.

My knees click as I bend down to pick up the page, and they click again when I jump back to my feet.

Panic stabbed at my chest.

No.

No.

Fuck No.

Spinning around, I stretch for my tote-bag and knock it to the floor. Clutching my phone, I drag a trembling finger across the screen until I reach my contacts list as I mutter dad, dad, dad, dad, and think of my father that’s on the other side of the country.

My finger hovered over the call button when I noticed the black ink scribble on the back of his business card.

Call me anytime –CB.