He laid it on top of the counter and opened it up, flipping through page after page of drawings— landscapes, faces of strangers, skylines. There had been a time when Roland would draw everything he saw.
His first gallery show had been right before Stewart left him. It had been a success. There were drawings in the back of this sketchbook that he’d turned into large scale paintings. Those were the days when things spoke to him and inspired him.
Before he could do something to ruin the sketchbook, he slammed it closed and threw it back in the cabinet. He twisted the cap off the vodka just as his cellphone rang. He sat it on the counter and pressed the answer button.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Wilson, you have a delivery.”
Roland recognized the stern and un-friendly voice of the night doorman.
“You can send him up and let anyone from Frank’s up in the future.”
He screwed the lid back onto the bottle and crossed the condo to his front door. He pulled it open as the elevator dinged with its arrival. There was a commotion as the doors opened, and whoever was inside pushed a cart piled high with easels, blank canvases, tubes of paint, and boxes of brushes out in front of them. A clipboard was piled precariously on the top and as the cart rolled over the transition from the elevator to the hallway, the clipboard fell.
“Fuck,” a soft voice mumbled from behind the tower of boxes. The person stepped out of the elevator and reached around to pick up the clipboard and place it back on top of the stack. He fumbled it because he seemed to have a cat carrier in his free hand.
Roland held the door open, brushing his hair back from his face and his jaw fell open. The delivery boy looked up and shook a long stand of black hair from his face and blinked at Roland before his mouth split into a wide and honest smile.
Blue eyes met his, and Roland was sure the world had stopped turning. He had two containers of paint that very shade of blue on the windowsill in his studio.
“Holy shit, it’s you,” Roland whispered.
Chapter 5
Donny Makes a Bet
Donny setthe cat carrier down on the ground and raised an eyebrow. “It’s me. As expected, since your doorman just told you I was coming.”
Roland hadn’t stopped staring, and Donny wasn’t sure what to do, so he fumbled the clipboard again, like a pro, then handed it to Roland while he pushed the cart into the penthouse.
“I didn’t order a cat.” Roland gestured toward the carrier but quickly returned his eyes to Donny’s face.
“I know, man, but he’s got some issues right now, and I can’t leave him alone. So, Pete’s with me. I’ll leave him outside while I unload everything if you want.” Roland turned away and looked inside his condo. Donny pursed his lips and attempted to subtly eye fuck Roland while he had his back turned.
Pete’s trip to the vet earlier in the morning had gone well. He only had an infected splinter in one of the pads of his front right paw. The vet bandaged him up and sent Donny home with some antibiotics that Pete needed once a day for a week. When they’d gotten home, Donny became certain the vet had never in his life tried to administer any sort of medication to a cat. The whole ordeal ended with tears, a four-inch gash down the palm of his left hand, and he was only fifty percent confident Pete ended up with more than twenty-five percent of the prescribed dosage. So, to be safe, Pete was on delivery duty with him for the rest of the day.
Donny just wanted to make sure Pete didn’t bite off the bandage, and Roland was his last delivery for the day, anyway. He’d actually been at home when Frank messaged him, begging him to take the delivery. Donny got double pay for the late hour so he said yes, packed Pete up in the carrier he’d bought after the vet appointment and took off toward work.
“He can come in. Why is he with you?” Roland asked, stepping forward past Donny as he reached down for the handle on the carrier.
“He has a bum paw. I just want to make sure he doesn’t mess with it while it’s healing.”
“What happened?” Roland walked inside and sat the carrier down on the kitchen counter and stuck his finger inside, wiggling it around to entice Pete.
“Be careful.” Donny held up his bandaged palm. “And he had an infected splinter in one of his little feet. I just got him a week or so ago. Someone left him and his brother and sister in a box behind my work so I took them home.” He finished pulling the cart inside and looked around the spacious living room.
Roland’s place was exactly what Donny envisioned when he heard the wordpenthouse. It was a sprawling space that looked like it took up almost half the floor. The living area was a huge open floor plan type thing, connected to the kitchen and separated only barely by a large marble topped breakfast bar/island combo. There were two hallways, one off either side of the living space, which Donny assumed led to the bedrooms, or offices, or studies, orwhateverkind of rooms a place this big had tucked away into the corners. Maybe there was a sex dungeon. If Donny could be so lucky.
Pete let out a little meow and Donny looked down to see him rubbing his head against Roland’s fingers through the confines of the carrier.
“Can I take him out?” Roland asked.
“Can you tell me where you want all this stuff?” he countered.
Roland stared at him, his eyes tracing all the lines of Donny’s face in a way that felt more intimate than it should.
“Yes.” Donny propped his weight against the cart.
