Omar narrows his eyes at Anders. “He’s not a wilting flower. My brother’s death hit him hard, but he’s not as delicate as he seems.”
What the hell? “But you’re so protective of him. I would have assumed that you would want me to stay away from him entirely.”
“Gotta say, I’m not impressed with the fact you’ve let him just walk across the street into what amounts to a gay orgy. I can watch over him physically, but his heart is still a mess. I was trusting you to take care of that.”
Honestly, the idea of letting anyone but me watch over him makes me fucking twitchy. And now I’m hearing from the men I most admire in the world that apparently murderers deserve love, too. Unfortunately, I seem to have failed on both accounts, and I don’t know what the hell we’re still doing here.
I shove the phone back into my pocket, close the blinds, and flip the sign to Closed.
“Sorry, boys. Poker’s canceled. There’s no fucking way I’m going to let him wade out there into a sea of horny men. They’ll eat him alive.”
“Or maybe they’ll just eat him,” Anders says, smirking.
Omar’s about two-point-five seconds from taking Anders’ head off, and at this point, he might have to stand in line. I shake my head, flustered and frustrated. “He’s vulnerable and might end up with somebody who could hurt him, and the thought of that…” Fuck, I can’t even finish that sentence.
Odd looks at the rest of us and nods. “Alright, let’s go get your boy.”
18
Rafi
The Cadillac Bar is usually a family-friendly dining establishment, one that Omar and I frequent since we live just around the corner. I’d heard of Boys’ Night, but… Yeah, this is something else. I’d pulled up Grindr because I thought maybe I could just get numb and get fucked and get it over with, but now that I’m here, I’m heartbroken and pathetic while wearing a gay kicker outfit in the middle of a bunch of frat bros. It’s early evening and this place is already overrun with Axe body spray and bad sports tattoos. I don’t want any of it.
I pull up my phone and text Parker.
Rafi:Massive Everett fail. Heart is a mess. Boys’ Night at Cadillac is a testosterone-filled nightmare.
I add thePrincess Bridememe of Inigo Montoya to round out the picture for her.Humiliations galore.
The three little bubbles pop up immediately, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I just want to put my head on her shoulder and let her make fun of my outfit, then get drunk enough to blot out the awfulness of this evening.
I laugh at the incoming text—a meme of young Wesley with the caption, “As you wish.”
Parker:Go to the little concert area, get a drink. I’ll meet you there in a few and critique whatever tragedy you’re wearing tonight.
Just as I turn to make my way over to the quieter area, a hulking giant, I’m assuming from the football team, blocks my path. “Hey, baby. You’re even prettier than your pic on the app,” he says, running his fingers along my cheekbone. “Let me take you home and rough up all of that pretty skin.”
I look up at him, my eyes as big as saucers. “Uhhhh….”
Seeing me hesitate, he grabs my hip and pulls me in. “Come on, baby boy, let me show you how good I can make it for you.”
I can’t tell what pisses me off more, the fact his body spray is giving me an instant headache, the fact he doesn’t give a shit that I’m clearly not into it, or that he’s calling mebaby boy. Only Everett gets to call me that.
Not that Everett means anything by it.
“No…no, thank you,” I say, practically ripping myself from his grasp as I move quickly out of his reach. I turn around only to run into another giant wall of collegiate football perfection.
“Oh, hey there, cutie pie. You’re looking delicious tonight.”
Nope. Not in the mood to be devoured. Well, at least not by two hundred and fifty pounds of douche. I don’t even bother to say no to this one. Embarrassed by my stupid plan to get laid with astranger, which is so not me that Ican’t even, I leave the bar and walk to the designated outdoor concert area.
Finally, I’m able to breathe normally. Here there are old oak trees that give the place an almost magical atmosphere with beautifully gnarled limbs dotted with twinkle lights reaching out across the patio. A pretty guy with long hair is strumming his guitar and singing an old Dan Fogerty song, and I’m half-convinced he’s fae.
I walk over to the outside bar and ask for a grapefruit Deep Eddy with soda. The bartender looks me up and down with a smile, and I take the drink. He refuses my money and instead hands me a torn-off receipt with his cell phone number on it.
I guess I should be flattered by the attention, but fuck, I just wanted to get laid, not mauled on the savanna. I do, however, make a note of what I am wearing tonight in case I ever wanna be flayed alive by a quarter ton of man meat. Wonder what Parker will have to say aboutthat.
I find a stand-up table underneath one of the bigger oak trees, reaching it just as a nice-looking man a little older than me approaches it.
