Dreaming of a mate and children he’d never have.
CHAPTER 2
SoMa, San Francisco
When Kenji Gibson’s roommate learned he’d never visited a leather bar in his life, it was decided that his transgression needed to be corrected as soon as possible. Since it was the first night of his two days off, Tacoma had forced him into borrowed, ill-fitting leather pants and a harness before they’d dragged ass through the city amid a rare ninety-degree evening. The timing was clearlysuperb. He’d tried to convince his roommate another night might be better—but when Tacoma got something into his head, it was do or die.
Since he wasn’t in the mood to expire anytime soon, they now wended their way through the crowd at the Eagle Bar to mark the visit off Kenji’s gay bucket list. He trailed behind Tacoma, trying not to stare like a cringy tourist in his own cityandcommunity. Well, the leather part wasn’t necessarily his, but the gay part certainly was.
The bar was smaller than what he’d been expecting, though he wasn’t surewhathe’d been expecting. Outside, it was pretty unassuming with its black painted façade. Inside, it seemed pretty nice. He knew it was something of a gay landmark and had been around for decades, and he sensed the past lingering there in the walls. Not to suggest the bar was run-down. Absolutely not. It just felt comfortable with itself. Lived in and well loved.
A couple of muscle bears gave him the once over, their heads dipping and moving back up as he walked past. He couldn’t tell if it was interest or not. Both covered their eyes with mirrored sunglasses. He glanced down at his bare, near hairless chest only covered with the too-big leather harness Tacoma had lent him and wondered if he was too out of place. Many of the men there were big boys with fur—from a light dusting to full-out wolfman.
Tacoma sidled up to the bar and waved down a bartender. Kenji slipped beside him, scanning the setup behind it. Professional curiosity. The main reason he’d agreed to go was to check the place out as a potential job opportunity, not for the cruising Tacoma had in mind. The bartenders behind the bar were jacked and gorgeous, muscle daddies in their own right. Kenji’s slim, smooth body definitely didn’t fit the brand.
I can be a double diversity hire. Wasiananda twink.
Kenji chuckled. Tacoma glanced over, frowning a bit.
“What’s so funny?” Tacoma asked at full volume, shoving a drink into Kenji’s hand.
“Nothing,” Kenji said, his voice raised over the noise as he looked at the drink, no idea what his roommate had ordered him. He was a bartender and couldn’t figure it out. He took asip and winced. It was sweet as hell and not something he’d ever order for himself.
“Good, huh?” Tacoma asked. He took a sip and sighed. “I love these.”
Kenji nodded and smiled. He scanned the crowd and turned back to Tacoma, who claimed to be somewhat of a regular there. “Is it always this busy?”
“Usually. If not busier.”
The bartenders must make great tips. Maybe Ishouldapply.
“See anyone who interests you?”
Beads of sweat rolled down the inside of Kenji’s leather pants. If there was someone there of interest, he’d be terrified to get naked with them. A glue formed by the baby powder Tacoma had coated his legs in and the swamp in full effect from crotch to ankle might make it impossible to get the leathers off, even if the pants were a bit big for his skinny body.
A beefy stranger walked up to Tacoma and wrapped both arms around him.
“Tack!How are you, babe?”
“Great, and you?” Tacoma said with a wide grin.
The sudden tilt of his shoulders and lifting of his chin told Kenji all he needed to know. Tacoma had found a potential bedmate for the night.
“Can’t complain,” the stranger said, his gaze wandering up and down Tacoma before he glanced past and sized Kenji up.
“This is my roommate, Ken,” Tacoma said. “Ken, this is my friend, Jake.”
“Kenji,”he muttered under his breath before he smiled and reached out to shake Jake’s hand. He hated when Tacoma called him that and didn’t want it to spread.
“I think we’ve met before,” Jake said.
Kenji frowned, trying to place him.
“We passed by one another late one night,” Jake said, leaning in to be heard better. “You were coming in from work. I was bare-assed at the fridge, getting a bottle of water for Tack.”
Kenji smiled and wanted to ask, ‘which night was that?’ Considering it had happened on more than one occasion over the year and a half he’d rented a room from Tacoma, his guess was as good as any other. Since his roommate had a type—big, buff, and hairy—they all kind of looked the same to Kenji.
Instead of calling Tacoma out for the revolving door on his bedroom—he had no right to judge—he just smiled, nodded, and said, “Ah. Nice to, ah, see you again,” even though he didn’t recall the first time they’d met.
