CHAPTER TWO
Lake
“Lake, your order’s up.”
I hustled over to Tara and carefully lifted the tray of coffees from the counter. Making my way to the trio by the window, I smiled as I placed each of their orders on the table.
“Chai latte; mocha espresso, extra cream; and Americana black. Anything else I can get for you?”
“Looks like we need extra napkins,” one of the two girls said. “Dylan’s already spilled his coffee.”
The preppy-looking boy shook his head. “What guy can drink out of these dainty cups without spilling?”
The Cup and Saucer served coffee, tea, and baked items on dainty china in a cozy atmosphere and was a popular neighborhood gathering spot for all ages. Several years ago, the owners added a drive-through for the more modern crowd, and the place stayed busy.
I produced the napkins from the pocket of my apron and laid them on the table. Dylan could clean up his own mess. As I turned around, I heard him say, “Betcha that fairy’s right at home in this place.”
One of the girls shushed him, and I kept walking like I hadn’t heard. If I didn’t need my job so badly, I’d turn around and pour that guy’s Americana black over his big, fat head. Serving coffee to homophobic assholes like the ones I’d had enough of in high school was not what I’d ever pictured myself doing with my life, but there was no use lingering over thoughts like that. I didn’t have the time.
I returned to the counter, face stony as I rang up an elderly man’s order. I’d probably lost a tip there. Then I took over making a frozen drink from Carl, who looked like he was about to have a melt-down in the busy drive through.
When the midmorning rush died down and I had a minute, I began mapping out the rest of the day in my head as I cleaned the espresso machine.
Return to my apartment to shower and change, then hopefully have enough time to walk to the restaurant because a cab would eat up money I didn’t have, and the subway didn’t stop near the restaurant Julianne had chosen. Maybe get a nap in before work at the club tonight.
My stomach growled as I wondered how I was going to wait until I got to the restaurant to eat. My eyes wandered to the display of muffins and cakes along the wall, but even with my discount, I knew I couldn’t afford to splurge on one of those. I only nabbed one when I absolutely had to. I’d be eating a good lunch today, so this wasn’t one of those times.
The minute my shift was over, I ditched the apron and hustled to the subway, hands buried in my pockets and shoulders hunched around my ears in the February cold. I’d already lost the scarf Khan had given me for Christmas, and it felt like I was sporting icicles for earrings.
I lived in a small studio apartment near Hell’s Kitchen that I could barely afford. I’d had a roommate for a while, but it didn’t work out. Something about me being in and out all the time and moody as hell. I climbed the stairs, glancing at the apartment door across from mine. Relieved not to see my neighbor Ron standing in his doorway as he so often was when I returned home, I pushed my key into the lock. Noticing a piece of paper wedged into the crack of the door, I pulled it out and scanned the contents.
“Out working the streets?” The voice made me jump.
I swung around to find the man I’d hoped to avoid leaning against the doorframe. He was wearing a pair of blue boxer shorts and nothing else. I knew he did it to show off his meaty, muscular body he was so proud of as well as to be intimidating. He was a bully who I’d long suspected had figured out my schedule so he could taunt me when I came home.
“Nobody said anything about raising the rent,” I said, trying to appear like he didn’t bother me in the slightest when, in reality, the sight of him made me weak with fear. I noticed the paper was dated December 28—nearly two months ago.
Ron chuckled, and I looked at him with narrowed eyes. His arms were crossed over his massive chest, biceps bulging unnaturally under the skin, and his boxers strained to contain his mountainous thighs. All that bulk made his head look oddly small on top of his thick neck. The man was a walking advertisement for steroid abuse. A ripped body was sexy, but when I looked at him, all I saw was a pile of drug-enhanced beef.
“Stop looking at me, faggot,” Ron growled, and I jerked my gaze back to his face, less bothered by the slur than the fact he thought I wanted him.
Ron grinned evilly, his gold front tooth making him look dangerous. I didn’t want to be afraid of him, but it was difficult not to be.
“Whatsa matter?” Ron looked me over with obvious pleasure at the fear I’d failed to hide. I had no doubt he got off on it.
“You not get the notice about the rent being raised? That’s weird, as it came just after Christmas. Must mean you were short on the last couple rent payments. Better get it to her, man. Mrs. Lebowitz has a list as long as her arm of people wantin’ to move in here.”
I didn’t doubt Ron was the reason I’d missed the first notice, the fucker. How was I going to pay more every month? I barely made the current payments.
I hurried inside my apartment and locked the door before Ron could think of any more ways to torment me. The sound of his laughter outside my door made my skin crawl. I was angry at myself for being such a goddamn coward. Putting my eye to the peephole, I jerked back at the sight of Ron’s big face on the other side. I heard him laugh again and moved away from the door.
Telling myself bullies always got theirs in the long run and that Ron’s would probably be in the form of a heart attack from steroid abuse, I hurried to take a shower, adjusting the taps so the water was so hot, I felt dizzy by the time I stepped out again. I was hungry and on edge when I quietly slipped out of my apartment ten minutes later, racing down the stairs and outside to begin a brisk walk to the Italian restaurant where Julianne had told me to meet her.
Midway there, my phone chimed with a text. I knew before I looked it would either be my friend Khan or Julianne because I didn’t get texts from anyone else.
Khan: Off tonight?
I snorted and typed as I walked.
Me: Am I ever off?
Khan: You need to take an evening. You’re wearing yourself out.
Me: Thanks, Dad, but I’m okay.
Khan: Come over tonight and have dinner with us before you go to work. Stephen’s making a roast.
I perked up at the thought of two square meals in one day, and one of them being Stephen’s cooking.
Me: I can be there at 6. I have to be at the YB by 8.
Khan: See you then. XO.
I tucked my phone into my jacket and hurried my steps.
The restaurant was crowded, but luckily I spotted Julianne’s eggplant-colored hair near the back. I made my way to the table and slipped into the seat next to her.
“Hey.”
Julianne’s nails and lips matched her hair, and she wore big, silver hoops in her ears that almost touched her shoulders. She and I had a casual relationship for boss and employee, even though we hadn’t known each other long. I’d answered an ad she’d put out for an “occasional PA,” and we’d immediately hit it off. She was easy to talk to and funny and didn’t seem to mind I could be a sarcastic prick sometimes, but while we both knew a bit about each other’s personal lives, we hadn’t had the free time to foster a close relationship.
“You look nice,” I said. “They not here yet?”
Julianne took a sip of wine. “No, and it’s just one guy. I ordered you a Manhattan. Figured you’d need it.”
“Do I ever.” I smiled flirtatiously at the waiter as he handed me my drink, watching his face turned red to the roots of his bleached hair.
Pity Julianne couldn’t afford to hire me full time. Her porn company did well, but only because she was a good businesswoman who scrimped and saved every dime. She was savvy and quick, but also kind-hearted.
“Fill me in,” I said, shrugging off my navy peacoat and hanging it on the back of my chair.
“We’re meeting with the owner of Hard Time Productions about merging with Steel and Velvet.”
“To do the gay stuff?” I asked, playfully smirking at the waiter when he placed an appetizer tray on the table. He wasn’t really my type, but I loved to flirt, especially when it disconcerted the man I was flirting with.
“Stop scaring the wait staff,” Julianne admonished. “Yes, for the gay stuff. You’re here today for show—so I look like a proper businesswoman—and just in case we need the gay perspective. Take some notes and try to look important.”
I slipped my Dior glasses out of my pocket and put them on.
Julianne made an impressed face. “Nice touch. I didn’t know you wore glasses.”
“They aren’t prescription lenses,” I said. Someone had left them at The Cup and Saucer, and I’d taken them home after a month passed and no one had picked them up.
A shadow fell over the table, and I looked up into a pair of startlingly blue eyes that I had definitely seen before.
I just managed to stop my jaw from dropping, but it was a close call. I’d never forget that face. Gorgeous blue eyes surrounded by dark lashes, full pink lips, thick dark hair. The guy was model perfect with an edge of bad boy thrown in. I’d met him at Dante Durham’s birthday party over a year ago, but unfortunately, we’d mixed about as well as oil in water.
“Mr. Harrington, thank you for meeting with me,” Julianne said smoothly, standing up from the table to shake the man’s hand.
“Call me Blaze.” He smiled, revealing two faint dimples in his cheeks. I picked up my water and drank, suddenly parched.
Blaze Harrington. He was a member of Dante’s biker group and owned Hard Time Productions, which I should have recognized when Julianne had said the name. Why did that make my dick hard, along with his fucking dimples and that cologne he was wearing? I very clearly remembered him rebuffing my advances at Dante’s party. Pissed, I gritted my teeth together.
“This is my personal assistant, Lake Adams,” Julianne introduced me.
Blaze turned his startling gaze on me and offered his hand to shake. I didn’t have a choice but to accept it, but I didn’t stand up to do it. His palm was warm and dry and his grip strong. I saw the recognition in his eyes.
“I believe we’ve met,” he said.
I smiled tightly. “I don’t think so.”
Blaze nodded slowly, as though putting the pieces together. It irked me that he had to while I’d immediately known where I’d seen him before.
“At a party at the Gables in East Hampton. A mutual friend’s birthday—Dante Durham.”
“I can’t say that I recall,” I said with a bored sniff.
Blaze frowned, and the sharp pain of Julianne’s heel digging into my foot had me quickly adding, “Nice to meet you, though.”
He knew I was lying; I could tell by the fucking amused look in his goddamn beautiful eyes.
The waiter reappeared, and while Blaze ordered a drink, I looked him over. Sensuously wide lips that gave me all kinds of dirty ideas, a dark shadow of a beard on his square chin that lent the bad-boy look, an amazing tat of a snake on his right forearm. Fuck me, he was hot. I looked up and met his gaze, then quickly looked away.
Julianne launched into details about the merger, and belatedly, I grabbed pen and paper and pretended to scribble notes.
“Let me see if I understand you,” Blaze said after she’d finished. “You’re looking to add gay videos to your porn business, and you want my company to handle those?”
Julianne nodded. “Yes, that’s right. Steel and Velvet caters to women, and there’s a large female audience for gay porn. I’ve seen your work, and I like it. I figured as a small business, you might be interested in expanding.”
“To be honest, we haven’t put much gay porn out,” Blaze said.
“I know, and that’s part of the reason I’m interested in your company. I think we fit and can mutually benefit from working with one another. You have some very talented actors that I know for a fact my audience loves. Steel and Velvet may be small, but it has a loyal subscriber base as well as a closely knit online community. The comments I see there are very telling. I feel that, together, Steel and Velvet and Hard Time can put out the type of erotic content women love while attracting the gay audience at the same time. Both my brothers are gay and more than willing to give me insight in that area.”
Blaze frowned, jet black brows dipping low. “I guess what I don’t understand is why you aren’t just doing this on your own. You could hire actors yourself. What do you need me and my company for?”
Julianne sat back in her chair. I continued moving the pen busily over the pad of paper I held, doodling up a storm. Every once in a while, I wrote down a word.
Porn. Gay. Hard. I drew a dick spewing a fountain.
“I’m a new mother,” Julianne said.
“Congratulations.” Blaze glanced up at the waiter as he placed our salads on the table. My stomach growled loudly, and my cheeks heated with embarrassment.
To cover, I cleared my throat and winked at the waiter. He almost dropped my plate in my lap, which caused him to blush and stammer out an apology.
“That’s okay, handsome. I’m flattered,” I said, simpering a little because I could feel Blaze’s eyes on me.
“As a new mother, I don’t have as much time as I’d like,” Julianne said to Blaze. “But I admit there’s another reason I would like our companies to merge. Actually, three reasons. Jeovanni Mendoza, Antonio Sarto, and Cane Winters.”
Blaze sat back in his chair. Neither he nor Julianne had touched their food yet, while I had eaten my share of the appetizer and was already midway through my salad. I snagged one of the rolls from the basket in the center of the table and buttered it, wondering if I could get a couple into my bag without anyone seeing.
“Mr. Mendoza is Brazilian, am I correct?” Julianne asked.
Blaze nodded.
“He’s very popular with the ladies,” she said.
I smirked, knowing why “Hung” Mendoza was so popular. Yeah, I watched my fair share of Hard Time porn. The pity was that Blaze didn’t participate on that side of the camera.
“Recently you released a short scene pairing Mr. Sarto and Mr. Winters as a teaser that has my viewers buzzing.”
Blaze was listening intently.
“The sizzling chemistry between the two men was apparent. I am very interested in those two, as well as utilizing Mr. Mendoza’s…er, talent.”
I couldn’t help it; I snorted. Julianne narrowed her eyes at me, and I tried to look innocent.
The two finally began eating. I tried to slow down, not wanting to look like a pig by finishing before they’d barely started, but I was fucking hungry—I hadn’t eaten since lunch the day before. I hadn’t realized I’d set my notebook on the table right beside Blaze until I saw him looking at my scribbles. He met my gaze, amusement in his eyes. I snatched up the notebook and slipped it into my bag, hoping he wouldn’t see my blush.
Julianne continued talking, occasionally asking Blaze a question. Our entrees arrived, and I dug in with relish. It was the best meal I’d had in a long time. When I tuned back into the conversation, Blaze had agreed to tour the Steel and Velvet offices and studio. When the meal ended, I kept my expression neutral as we said goodbye in front of the restaurant, though a zip of carnal attraction ran through me when Blaze shook my hand again.
In Julianne’s car on the way to my apartment, she dropped all professionalism and groaned.
“God, he’s hot.” She glanced at me. “Don’t pretend you don’t think so. And you’ve met him before? What’s that about? I know you didn’t forget that gorgeous man.”
“Yeah, we met at that party, but I didn’t want him to know I remembered him. The guy has an ego the size of Willis Tower, couldn’t you tell? Besides, he’s straight.” Actually, I still wasn’t one hundred percent sure of that. Blaze had claimed to be straight at Dante’s party, but my gaydar was always pretty accurate and it called foul. Which meant he was either deep in the closet or just not into me. I wasn’t sure which was worse.
“I thought he was really nice.” She suddenly grinned. “Holy shit, this might actually work out. I’ve got a really good feeling about this.”
I didn’t comment, a little distracted thinking about Blaze. The man infuriated me with his easy confidence. Recalling his amused expression when he’d seen what I’d been doodling brought a wave of hot shame to my face.
Cool it, I told myself. It’s not like you were drawing hearts with his name in them. Thank God.
He was just so fucking good-looking and so sure of it. And a biker, for fuck’s sake. How sexy was that?
“Lake, are you listening? Are you free that day?”
“Sorry, what?” I blinked. Julianne was idling the car in front of my building, blocking traffic. I picked up my bag.
“Wednesday. When Blaze is coming to the studio. Are you free to be there? He said two-thirty, and I might need your help.”
“Oh, um.” I thought about it as I opened the door. Someone laid on their horn, and I automatically shot them the bird. I was supposed to be at the coffee shop that day, but maybe I could switch shifts with someone. Julianne paid me more, and the work was easier. “I’m sure I can work it out.”
“Wonderful. See you then. Ciao.”
I walked into my building, head ducked as I looked at my cell phone, realizing I’d have time for that quick nap before heading over to Khan and Stephen’s. Slipping into my apartment without running into Ron was the cherry on top.
***
“Slow down,” Khan said, chin resting on his hand as he watched me shovel food into my mouth. “No one’s going to take it from you. There are plenty of potatoes to go around.”
Mouth full, I grunted and speared a carrot with my fork.
Khan turned to his husband who looked like a cross between Boris Kodjoe and Karamo Brown and twice as sexy. “He’s eating like a rabid dog.”
Stephen laughed, dark eyes amused. “I’m glad he enjoys my cooking.”
I rolled my eyes heavenward and spoke around the food in my mouth. “Enjoy is too mild a term for how I feel about this food.”
“When’s the last time you had a good meal?” Khan asked.
“I had a salad and spaghetti for lunch,” I said. I’d been stuffed when I’d left the restaurant, but my nap had awakened my appetite. Besides, I wasn’t sure when my next square meal would be, so I needed to fill up. Hopefully, I wouldn’t throw it up later on some shmoe when I was giving him a lap dance. I inwardly cringed at the thought. Not at throwing up on the guy, but at giving a lap dance at all. I hated them. Something about them completely freaked me out. But the sad reality was they brought great tips.
Khan continued to watch me as I ate.
“Tell us about your day,” Stephen said.
“What, am I your kid now?” I flashed him a smile to soften the words.
“Yeah, you and your sister over there,” Stephen said, indicating their tortie cat, Liza Minnelli, who currently sat in a spot of sun with one foot in the air, licking her ass.
I rolled my eyes and stuck my fork into a piece of roast that fell apart like butter. “I worked at The Cup and Saucer until one, went home and showered, and then to a business lunch. After that, I napped, then came here. Nothing particularly interesting.”
“And now you’re going to work for hours at The Yellow Banana.” Khan shook his head at his husband. “I told you he works himself to death.”
I pushed my plate away. “No, I don’t. I’m fine. Stephen, that was delicious. Best roast I’ve ever had.”
“My pleasure, but you can thank my crock pot.” His slow smile gave me a wicked idea to get Khan off my back.
“You two ever considered a threesome?” I let my eyes wander suggestively over first Stephen, then Khan.
“Not happening,” Khan said. “And I know what you’re doing.”
I pouted. “What am I doing?”
“Trying to divert the subject from you to sex. I’m worried about your health. I wish we were home more in the evenings so you could have dinner with us every night.”
I rolled my eyes. “I know you guys are busy. I’m fine.” I looked to Stephen for help, but he only shrugged.
Stephen was a divorced father of two, and when he and Khan didn’t have the kids, they were going to school functions or having cocktails with Khan’s colleagues at the university, where I’d met Khan—not as one of his students, but when I had a job with the night cleaning crew.
Khan worked late all the time, staying long after his last evening Ethics class to grade papers, and one night as I’d been cleaning, we’d fallen into a conversation about music. That had been right after my parents had thrown me out of the house, and I’d been shaken and depressed and had confided in him more than I’d ever meant to. We became friends, and when I met Stephen, we’d clicked too. I wouldn’t really consider having a threesome with them—that would be weird. They’d immediately taken on a sort of “older brothers” dynamic with me—Khan was thirty-nine and Stephen forty-four while I was only twenty-six.
As Khan poured us all a cup of coffee, I turned to Stephen. “How’s work?”
“Same as always.”
Khan shook his head. “He’s doubled his patient load. Why is everyone in therapy these days?”
“Because people are more self-aware,” Stephen said.
“How are the kids?” I asked.
Stephen scrolled through his phone with his thumb. “Here’s a picture of Natasha and Zack in their school performance. Zach played Benjamin Franklin. Natasha was one of the townspeople.”
I looked at the picture. Zack looked adorable in the ruffled shirt, little wire eyeglasses, and wig. Natasha had a huge grin on her face, showing her missing front teeth. “Your kids are so cute,” I said. “And those costumes look authentic.”
“Cayenne made them,” Stephen said. Cayenne was his ex, and she and Khan were not on good terms, as Stephen had left her for Khan. I could tell it was something Stephen felt guilty as hell about, but it was obvious to everyone who looked at Stephen and Khan that the two were deeply in love. I’d once witnessed a cat fight between Khan and Cayenne and now knew firsthand why Stephen took special precautions not to ever let the two be in the same room together.
We chatted for a while longer until I had to leave or risk being late for my night job. I grabbed my bag and hugged both of my friends.
“Thanks again for dinner. It was delicious.”
Stephen gave me a squeeze. “I’ll let you know next time I cook, but drop by anytime. We don’t see enough of you.”
“Thanks.” For some reason, his words made me teary-eyed, and I rushed for the door before they could notice the dip in my mood. Khan would spend half an hour trying to get the reason out of me, and there really wasn’t one. Or, at least, not one I could explain.
Out on the front porch, Khan kissed my cheek. “I only pester you because I love you,” he said, looking at me with soulful brown eyes a lighter shade of brown than his husband’s.
“I know.” I squeezed his arm. Raised in a non-demonstrative household, I wasn’t very good with open affection. But I was trying.
“Be careful. I don’t like to think about you riding the subway home so late.”
“Don’t worry about me,” I told him for the millionth time. “I can take care of myself, I promise. I’ve been doing it for years.”
Khan sighed like what I’d said was the saddest thing in the world, and I got out of there before I did something dumb like cry.