“I have my moments. So, no luck?”
“No. And it’s getting to the point where I’m almost ready to put this cup out and sing for my supper.”
Clarence cocked his head. “Can you? Sing, I mean.”
“Well enough.”
“Let’s hear.”
Figuring the man would like an older tune, Sean chose “You Are My Sunshine.” A few people passing by slowed their steps to listen. To his surprise, one lady put two dollars in his empty Starbucks cup and said, “That was my husband’s favorite song to sing to me. I haven’t heard it since he passed away last year.”
Sean ducked his head. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You made me smile today. Thank you.”
After she left, he turned to Clarence. “Well, what do you think?”
“I think you’re going to need a bigger cup.”
Sean regarded him thoughtfully. “Maybe you’re right.”
Clarence patted his arm. “Mark my words, son. I always am.”
* * *
He returned to the apartment, having stopped by to pick up lunch—a chicken-parm hero from Don Filippo. When he opened the door, he was a little disappointed to find the apartment empty, but he was hungry and sat down to eat. After he’d finished half, he contemplated calling Charlotte to tell her they’d worked it out, when the lock clicked and Tristan walked in, lugging four bags in each hand. His biceps bulged under his T-shirt, and Sean gulped the rest of his water. Charlotte could wait.
“Hi,” he said. “Been shopping?”
Tristan set the packages on the kitchen counter with a grunt. “Great observation skills. You could’ve been a detective.”
Ignoring the sarcasm, Sean watched Tristan unload his items and fill the refrigerator with lots of greens and other healthy-looking stuff. A fancy blender came out next.
Oh Lord, he hadn’t pegged Tristan as one of those health nuts. Inexplicably guilty, he glanced at the leftover half of his chicken-parm hero and folded the foil paper over. Tristan’s lips curled in a faint smile.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to lecture you on what you eat. Everyone I worked with teased me all the time about my green juice.” Tristan took out some powders and stacked them on the island next to the blender.
“Are you a vegetarian?”
“No, but I try to keep red meat to a minimum. I watch what I eat.”
And I wouldn’t mind watching you while you eat.
Maybe living together wasn’t such a great idea if he was going to walk around with a perpetual hard-on. Then Tristan bent over to put something in the bottom drawer of the refrigerator, and Sean changed his mind at the sight of the man’s beautiful ass. He’d even drink green juice if it meant keeping Tristan here as long as possible; he was that pretty to look at.
Sean said, “I guess we need to talk about schedules and apartment rules and such.”
Tristan moved from the kitchen area to the linen closet and removed a full set of towels from one of the remaining bags. “As long as we’re stuck here together, yeah.”
Stuck here? Obviously Tristan wasn’t fantasizing about him, and Sean mentally slapped himself.Focus.
“Uh, yeah, sure. I haven’t had much of a chance to do anything except job-hunt.”
“Any luck?” Tristan pulled up a barstool and sat.
“Not really. I went all over the West Side, but no one is hiring. Funny story, I met a little old man, and when I said I might have to sing for my supper, he asked me for a demonstration. A lady actually gave me two bucks.”
Instead of laughing, Tristan scowled and turned the full weight of his disapproving stare on him. “Busking is dangerous. You could easily get robbed.”
