Oh, no. Not this conversation again. “I don’t keep track of my conquests.”One year, two months, and a handful of days.
“What’s to keep track of? Have you even gotten any since what’s his name?” Jess flung her arm over her eyes. “It’s too fucking bright in here. I can’t even remember what’s his name’s name, so you know it’s been a while.”
“Jess, honey, I’m amazed you rememberyourname right now. And it’s not any brighter than normal.” Suddenly, the lights grew softer. Maybe the overhead fixture blew a bulb. The lurch in his heart told Piers, no, he’d somehow wanted something and made it happen again.
“Much better. Thanks, dude. You’re the b…” Jess’s words trailed off into a snore.
Piers crawled out from under her feet, settling her into a comfortable position. He took his favorite place by the window. The lights below twinkled. He’d always loved twinkling lights. As a child, he’d gone to the mountains with Uncle Lee. They’d sat on the deck of their rented cottage, transfixed by the heavens. Instead of down below, the twinkling lights shone above. Bright and glittery in the heavens.
Piers asked about constellations. Uncle Lee had said, “These aren’t the stars I remember.”Had he truly come from another part of the world?
Uncle Lee. What happened to him? Who’d been after them?
Uncle Lee.
White hair. Yellowish eyes.
You are not from this human realm we live in.Were the words more than shock-induced psychosis like the counselor claimed?
The stranger tonight. Long white hair trailing down his back. For one moment on the dance floor, though, Piers swore he’d seen the sparkle in a pair of golden eyes.
Uncle Lee had said one day his friend would send for them.
The man tonight. He’d been insistent, but he hadn’t seemed to recognize Piers. If he’d been a friend of Uncle Lee’s, wouldn’t he have said so?
Maybe he dyed his hair. No! No, letting his mind run wild. Wicked, or whatever his name was, wandered into the bar looking for an easy pickup.
Like hundreds of other men who’d hit on Piers.
Men he’d shot down.
They’d never seemed right. He definitely found men attractive, even went out with a few. But they rarely ended the night in bed. And of those, the following day he’d not known them any better than at their first smile.
Maybe he should’ve accepted the offer, though he couldn’t have brought anyone home with Jess here. Too rude.
They used to plan who got the apartment on which night when they’d shared a one-bedroom place. Jess sometimes brought a date home or stayed with a lover.
Piers spent his free nights alone. Away from work, away from people. Alone with his thoughts. Until he abandoned all pretense at a social life.
He glanced at the couch. Maybe he should have asked Wycke to wait for him while he got Jess home. Somewhere out there, was Wycke alone? No, he’d likely taken Piers’ advice to find someone else.
Why, oh why, hadn’t Piers gotten the guy’s phone number? Or had a night off to accept the offer of dinner?
Maybe Jess had a point.
His phone chimed with a text. He checked the screen. One of his coworkers. What did Randy want at this unholy hour? Piers let out a sigh. This couldn’t be good. But, no. Nothing bad.
The rent’s due. Can I take your shift tomorrow night?
Actually, giving Randy a shift meant repaying a favor. Piers typed in:Sure.
Thanks, man!
Damn! Piers told Wicked he worked five nights straight and didn’t have time for dinner. Funny for Randy to text now, right after Piers wished for a night off.
But how could he get in touch with Wycke?
Piers shoved his hands into his jeans. Huh? Something crinkled against his fingertips. The card he pulled out bore the name of a local hotel. He let out a low whistle. Nice place. Scrawled in pen on the back, he found “Wycke, room 1014.”
