He hesitated for only a brief second, but that was long enough for Julian the Jackal to scent blood in the air and pounce.
“Ah.” His green eyes gleamed with unholy light. “I knew you couldn’t last.”
Zach, about to put a piece of roll in his mouth, returned it to the bread plate to stare at him wide-eyed with surprise. “Marcus?”
Since he’d turned up so unexpectedly at Tyler’s apartment, the two of them had maintained a wary yet professional relationship. Much to Marcus’s inexplicable annoyance, Tyler continued his provocative dancing, raking in the tips while occasionally granting a customer a kiss or a feel. Marcus had seen to it that Darius assigned a special security guard to stand watch whenever Tyler danced, to make sure there would be no further problems with physical attacks from the more insistent customers.
Discovering the man was responsible for his little niece had made Marcus all too leery of pursuing a physical relationship; the last thing Marcus was interested in was a man with a child or any type of responsibilities. When Marcus was with a man, the only person that man needed to concentrate on was Marcus. Tonight he planned on bringing that sexy bartender Antonio home with him. He knew the man was interested, yet something kept interrupting his plans to score.
“What?” He shrugged and sipped his mimosa, refusing to meet his friends’ eyes. “I didn’t have sex with anyone; I kissed a guy.”
Of course Zach couldn’t be content and let it go. “Who was it?”
“What does it matter? It’s not likely to happen again.” Edgy and uncomfortable under the scrutiny, Marcus raised his hand to call the waiter over. Anything to avoid those concerned and sympathetic looks he hated.
“Was it Tyler?” Zach’s softly worded question hit him like a fist in the stomach.
“Who’s Tyler?” asked Julian and Nick at the same time.
Terrific; now he had nagging in stereo. Maybe he didn’t miss his friends as much as he thought. When neither Zach nor Marcus responded, Julian nudged Sam. “Do you know who Tyler is?”
“He’s a dancer at Sparks.”
“A dancer? Well, you always did like them bendy, Marcus. But why is Zach giving you those big, puppy-dog eyes?” Julian studied him for a moment; then a wide smile broke across his face, and Marcus tensed, ready for the onslaught.
“Holy shit. You actually like this guy. Outside of the bedroom and with his clothes on.” He elbowed Nick. “Do you see it?”
Nick, unconcerned, popped the rest of his roll into his mouth, chewed and swallowed it before answering. “So what if he does? It’s about time, is all I can say.”
“You’re fucking crazy. There’s nothing going on between us.” Thank fuck the food finally came and he could concentrate on that instead of the knowing glint in Julian’s eyes.
“I never said there was anything going on between the two of you.” Ignoring his meal, Julian the Jackal continued to pick at him, as if he were a roadside carcass. “I said you liked him. And I know I’m right because you’re all defensive now.”
“Read my lips: nothing’s going on. He’s a fucking tease who doesn’t mind shaking his ass for everyone, but when I kissed him he pushed me away.”
The sight of Julian’s eyes bugging out of his head would’ve been funny if it wasn’t directed at him.
“He turned you down? The great Marcus Feldman finally met a man who didn’t succumb to his beauteous charms.” Julian elbowed Nick. “We have to go to Sparks as soon as possible to see the guy who finally has Marc running in circles.”
More irritated than ever at Julian, Marcus slammed his hand down on the table, rattling the silverware. “There’s nothing going on between us; we haven’t even had sex.”
“That doesn’t mean a thing,” Sam chimed in, taking Zach’s hand and giving it a brief squeeze. “I knew Zach was it for me from the first time I met him.”
Right before his eyes, Zach melted into a big messy pile of goo. “I love you too, Sam.”
“Oh for Christ’s sake; this is nauseating.” Unable to take this crap a minute longer, Marcus stood abruptly and threw a few bills on the table. “I knew this would happen once you all hooked up. You’re trying to fit me into your little domestic happy boxes and make me one of you.” He pulled on his jacket. “I’m not playing that game. Call me when you come to your senses.”
He didn’t care where he went as long as it was away from his friends and their once-upon-a-time, fairy tale lives. Glancing briefly at his watch, he figured while he was pissed off and bitter he might as well deal with another distasteful chore he forced himself to perform every few months. He stuck out his hand and hailed a cab. In less than twenty minutes, he found himself on the familiar doorstep in Carroll Gardens, and he rang the bell. There was no need to call ahead.
The door opened.
“Hello, Marcus.”
“Mother.”
There was no welcome kiss or hug, no genuine smile of hello. There never had been. His mother’s smiles were reserved for his father.
He trailed behind her, noting her immaculate dress, the usual shining floors, and the overall sterility of the house. He couldn’t call it a home; home was where you felt welcomed and loved. Those two concepts were foreign to him… Zach’s mother had given him more affection than either of his parents ever had.
