“But my favorite thing is already here.” He gave me a long, languid kiss. The kind that melted in sunshine and left only sweetness behind. His invitation led to another round of lovemaking until I’d forgotten the thrust of my argument entirely.
That was likely his goal all along.
At my next opportunity,I called up Franco and asked him to meet me for dinner.
“Is this a date?” he asked playfully.
“No, it’s a business dinner. You can write it off on your taxes.”
“Does that mean I’m paying?”
“I’ll do you one better. I’ll pay and give you the receipt.”
We met that night at an Italian restaurant in Cobble Hill, a place we used to go when we were officially dating. You could call it our place, but I hoped we’d both moved on from attaching any romantic associations to it.
Regardless, they had a killer chicken parm with a crisp breading, and their homemade marinara had a little kick. Their bread and house red were good too. I ordered a bottle for us to share. We caught up for a few minutes. Franco informed me he was no longer dating Marquis, which begged the question, why not? He informed me that the man was only out for his money.
“You did begin the relationship by stuffing dollar bills down his jock,” I said.
Franco pursed his lips then gave a rueful smile. “Well, when you put it that way. He did have a beautiful ass.” Franco’s sigh was a little forlorn. “A lo hecho, pecho.How are things with you and Mr. Fabulous?”
“Pretty fabulous.” I’d mulled it over before this meeting, how much might be necessary to disclose about Arden’s past and current vocation in order to give Franco a fuller picture of what I was asking. I hated that I was confirming Franco’s initial suspicions about Arden, but I didn’t see any way around it. If Franco wanted more info, he could ask Arden directly. So, I gave him the basics. That Arden was in debt—how much I didn’t know. That he had an arrangement with a rich man where he was paid under the table for services that were likely sexual in nature.
“I’d like for him to be financially independent,” I said. “I think he wants that too. I offered to have him move into my place to cut down on his monthly expenses, but he politely declined.”
“He doesn’t want to be your kept boy,” Franco said. “I wish Marquis had some of that. We’d go out to eat, and he’d order the most expensive thing on the menu and then eat only half. Who does that?”
“Maybe he didn’t want to eat too much if the two of you were going to be intimate later.”
“Then he should order an appetizer.”
“Franco.”
“What? I like nice things, but I’m not wasteful.”
That was true. Other than his designer suits and luxury automobile, Franco was fairly frugal. It was why Liam always brought the wine.
“I’m sorry things didn’t work out with Marquis. I hope you let him down gently.”
“He broke up with me.”
“Really?”
“Yes. We had a fight. About pancakes. Well, one pancake in particular. He told me to enjoy fucking myself and stormed out.”
I’d done something similar on more than one occasion. Franco could inspire the wrath of even the most level-headed man.
“Did you apologize?” I assumed the fight was Franco’s fault.
“Yes.”
“Did you use the English-is-your-second-language excuse?”
“I tried.”
“What about the boarding school one?”
“That one too.”
