Chapter 2
Clay
“Oh my god, my muscles are so tight,” Beck complains as we work through our morning warm-up yoga before classes start.
“It’s a bitch not hiding behind a desk all day, isn’t it?” I tease as I bend forward and touch my nose to my shins in Padangusthasana pose.
“Fuck off pretzel boy,” Beck tosses back at me, and I chuckle.
Beck recently quit his cushy job at his father’s law firm to come work at my dance studio full-time and do legal work for the local LGBTQ center for teens. I was thrilled to finally have him here full-time with me. Up until now, I’ve been teaching a majority of the classes while he picked up an evening one a few times a week. I finally have a little extra time to stay on top of the business side of things, and with both of us taking on classes, there is the possibility for expansion in the future.
I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t dancing. My mother has innumerable videos of me in diapers dancing around the living room. She said I was dancing as soon as I was walking. It must be genetic because in her heyday, my mother was prima ballerina for The New York City Ballet. I was a surprise pregnancy, but she never called me a mistake. It ended her career, but she never once made me feel unwanted or unloved.
I was never into the hyper competitive culture surrounding a dance company, so I opted to spend my life teaching dance instead. And thus, On Pointe was born.
I really should stop by and see my mom soon. I don’t make it over to her house nearly enough.
“My muscles are tight because I spent all weekend moving furniture and lifting boxes.”
“That’s right; this was moving weekend. Are you and Gage all settled into domestic bliss?”
Remember how I said Max is one of my two favorite people in the world? Well, Beck is the other one. So even if I am a tiny bit jealous that he’s fallen in love and now living with his perfect man, I’m also crazy happy for him because he deserves it. And if Gage ever hurts him, I’ll break his neck. Which I kindly told Gage last weekend when we all went out to celebrate their announcement of impending cohabitation.
“We’re unpacked and organized. I’m still trying to get his input on the decorations, but otherwise we’re all settled in. I love knowing I won’t have to spend another night alone in bed,” he adds with a happy sigh.
Beck and Gage are the real deal, so it’s definitely not a small twinge of jealousy I feel in the pit of my stomach.
I’m saved from having to respond by the arrival of a few kids in Beck’s first class of the day.
I straighten up and greet the kids and their parents with a smile.
It’s just as well; I have a million things I need to get done before my first class arrives in an hour.
Pay rent for the studio, send reminders for late payments, call an electrician to look at the lighting in Studio One…
I sigh at myself as my brain buzzes. My morning yoga gives me a few minutes to peace, but not to the level I need.
I head into my office and find my phone on my desk with a message notification from Grindr.
HotStuff: Hey sexy
I roll my eyes at the greeting. Although, at least it was a greeting rather than just a dick pic. Not that I have anything against pictures of dicks; I love them as a matter of fact. But if I want to see a dick, I’ll ask.
I click on HotStuff’s profile to see his picture, and damn he’s as hot as advertised. I can totally forgive a lame greeting for a face like that.
ForgetMeKnot: Hey :) you’re pretty sexy yourself. So, who are you HotStuff?
HotStuff: I’m a fireman, and I’m very interested to find out more about your bondage kink. Let me take you out for dinner and drinks?
Ooo, a fireman. Maybe this day won’t be so bad after all.
◆◆◆
I pull up in front of Gigi’s elementary school and park in the pick-up area to wait for her.
I switch my MP3 player to my special Georgia playlist and wait for the adorable little ankle biters to start streaming out of the building. When they do, I step out of the car and wave down the little doll with long brown locks and big blue eyes. She looks just like her father.
“Hi, Clay,” Gigi’s teacher calls and waves.
“Hi,” I call back as Gigi runs toward me.
I bend down and open my arms for a hug. She leaps into them and squeezes around my neck as hard as her little six-year-old arms can manage.
I help her into the backseat of the car where she insists on buckling her seatbelt herself.
“Is Daddy working?” she asks once she’s settled.
“He is, but he’ll be home in a few hours. And in the meantime, I thought you could help me make dinner, and we could have a dance party in the living room. How’s that sound?”
“Yes!” she screeches.
Max
The loud whir and clang of various tools permeates the garage. I’m elbow deep in an engine with some Disturbed playing from my iPod dock.
“Hey, bro,” I hear my brother Tony shout over the noise.
I stop what I’m doing and pull my head out from under the hood of the car to see what he needs.
I look over and see him making a rude gesture, and then I catch sight of the beautiful woman in the lobby, and I roll my eyes at him. You’d think he was raised in a barn with the way he behaves toward women. Or maybe I’m the weird one since I’m certainly the odd man out in my family.
I get back to what I’m working on, and it’s not long before Tony is beside me, elbowing me.
“Did you get a load of her? She’s something, right?”
“Yeah, she’s attractive,” I agree mildly. I only saw her for a few seconds, but it’s easier to just agree with him.
“She’s more than attractive, she’s the future mother of my children.”
“You already have two of those, Tony,” I point out.
“Third time’s the charm.” he elbows me again and laughs at his own joke.
“Hey, did you see the ten in the lobby?” my other brother Gio asks from somewhere outside of my peripheral vision.
“Back off, I already called dibs,” Tony warns.
“Like hell you did,” Gio complains.
I grit my teeth as my grown ass brothers scuffle over a random woman like two dogs after a bone. They’re after a bone all right, and between the two of them, I have no doubt one of them will get it. My mother always said no one can turn down a Moretti man, and to this day, I have yet to see her proved wrong. It would help my brother’s egos though if it happened from time to time.
“Max, get up here,” my dad shouts from the front of the shop, and I let out a huff of a breath. I’d love to get this engine finished sometime tonight, so I can get home to Gigi. Not that Clay can’t keep her happy and entertained, but I only get a few nights a week with my little girl, I don’t want to waste them elbow deep in engine grease.
I pause what I’m working on again and grab a semi-soiled rag to wipe my hands before heading up front to see what my dad needs.
The woman my brothers are still arguing over is at the front desk when I approach.
“What can I do for you?” I ask her, assuming that’s the reason my dad called me up.
“This is Lynn, she needs work done on her motorcycle. That’s your specialty,” my dad offers with a clap on my shoulder before sauntering off to let me take over.
He’s right; I live and breathe bikes. And if it weren’t for the mountain of debt I’m still sitting under, I’d open my own shop to work exclusively on motorcycles. As it is, he lets me handle any that come in. Unfortunately, they’re few and far between as most prefer to go to the more well-known motorcycle garages around town.
I spend the next few minutes talking to Lynn—for the record, she’s way too sweet for either of my brothers—and get the paperwork squared away.
“I won’t be able to take a look at this until tomorrow,” I tell her. When her face falls, I decide to play my trump card so she doesn’t decide to leave a bad Yelp review. “This is one of the only nights of the week I get my daughter, so I can’t stay late. I hope you understand?”
Her face morphs from disappointment to that gooey look all women get when they find out you’re a dad who gives a shit about his kid.
“Of course, it’s okay,” she assures me. “So, you’re a single dad?”
“Yep, just doing the best I can to make sure my little girl is taken care of.”
“Aww.” She puts a hand over her heart and looks at me like I’m the second coming of Christ.
“Well, I’d better get back to work. I’ll call you once I get a chance to look at her tomorrow.”
I get Lynn’s keys and give her a friendly nod before making my way to the garage again.
I barely make it back to the car I’m working on before I’m caught in a headlock.
“Dammit, Tony, get the fuck off me,” I complain as my brother’s sweaty, greasy arm encases my neck.
“You thought you could just go up there and snake my woman?”
“My woman,” Gio shouts a correction.
“Jesus, I was doing my job, you fuckin’ mook. Now get off me.” I manage to get out of his grip and give him a good shove. “Act your age, asshole.”
“Oh yeah? Why don’t you check my dipstick?” Tony quips back, grabbing his junk for emphasis.
◆◆◆
An hour and a half later I finish up with the car I had to get done and make sure my tools are all put away. It’s finally time to go home to my kid.
“Later, assholes,” I call to my brothers as I exit the shop.
In the parking lot, I swing my leg over my bike, a Triumph Daytona 955i, and pull on my helmet.
The engine roars to life between my thighs, and a familiar thrill goes through me. Nothing like all that power harnessed between your legs.
In a few short minutes, I pull into my driveway beside Clay’s sensible Honda.
I open the front door and am immediately met with a sight that squeezes my heart and brings a smile to my face.
Clay and Gigi are twirling and jumping around the living room while some loud, poppy song rattles the windows.
I freeze in place, unable to break the moment as Clay shakes his ass and then picks up Gigi to spin her around.
My little girl throws her head back and giggles; the sound is music to my ears.
As the song ends, Clay collapses onto the couch with Gigi still squealing with delight.
“Is it my turn next?” I tease as I finally step in and close the door behind me.
“Oh, I’ll spin you right round baby,” Clay tosses back with a bawdy wink.
I chuckle, and a little unexplainable heat licks at my skin. It happens every once in a while with Clay. I usually chalk it up to the warm, fuzzy best friend feelings I have for him. He’s my buddy, my bro. What else could it be?
I know a lot of guys would feel weird about Clay’s flirting, but that’s just Clay, and I’m glad he feels comfortable enough to be himself around me.
“Daddy, we cooked dinner for you,” Gigi tells me as she crawls off Clay’s lap and bounds over to me.
“You did? What did you make?” I scoop her up and tweak her nose, drawing another peal of laughter from her.
“Meatloaf. I squished the meat between my fingers; it was so gross.”
“It should be ready, if you’re hungry,” Clay pipes in.
“Starving,” I agree with a smile, heading toward the kitchen carrying Gigi.
“How was work?” Clay asks as I set my daughter down next to the table and start helping him pull out dishes for us to eat from.
“Fine,” I answer with a shrug. “My brothers were working my last nerve; it’s nice to be home, away from all that oppressive testosterone.”
“Hey,” Clay protests.
“I meant that as a compliment. You’re not walking around swinging your dick like a weapon.”
“That’s a bad word,” Gigi points out.
“It’s not a bad word, but you’re right; it’s a word you’re not supposed to say. I’m sorry,” I say while Clay chuckles at us as he fills three plates. “Thanks for picking Gigi up from school and watching her until I could get home.”
“I keep telling you, you don’t have to thank me for helping out with her. We’ve been living together how long now? I feel like she’s my kid, too.”
My heart swells at his words. He has taken care of Gigi as if she were his own since day one. Yet another reason he’s one of the best people I know. Maybe one day I’ll find a way to repay everything Clay has done for me. Hell, if I can give him a fraction of what he’s given me, I’ll be happy.
We finish eating, and I clean up the kitchen since the two of them made dinner. Although, I’m under no illusion that Clay won’t be back in here in a few minutes wiping down the counters again and checking each dish I washed. When we first started living together, it drove me a little nuts, but over time, I’ve come to realize the compulsions bug him just as much, so I have some sympathy for him.
“Let me put the kid to bed and then we can catch a few episodes of GoT, yeah?”
“Of course,” Clay agrees with a small smile that brings out a dimple on his right cheek. I’m not sure why I always notice little things like that about him.