Bad Boyfriend

  Kellan started sifting his fingers through Eli’s hair again and clicked on a movie that started with an explosion and sirens, or maybe Kellan had resumed watching something else. Kellan loved disaster movies. Eli didn’t care as long as those fingers kept stroking his hair so he could drift into pleasure.

  Maybe he dozed because the next thing he knew his phone buzzed with a text.

  Smell last night on the sheets. Gonna jerk off. Too bad you’re missing it.

  Eli smiled. Think you’re the one missing out, he sent back to Quinn. And then a second one. How’d you get my number?

  Had it since I met you.

  Arrogant, toppy, sexy man. Without thinking too much about it, Eli let his hand slide down his body to his hip and then over his crotch.

  “Eli.” Kellan’s voice yanked him back to the fact that he was on his friends’ couch.

  “What?” Eli tried for innocence, but his voice was a little husky for that.

  “If you’re going to sext, gimme ten seconds to get out of the room, okay?”

  “No.” Eli curled his arms around his chest. “I’ll behave.”

  The volume of explosions decreased, or maybe it was a slow point in the movie. “Tell me about this guy, really,” Kellan said.

  “He’s perfect to fuck, but seriously, I can’t handle all that family drama.”

  Kellan should appreciate that. Family was a touchy subject for them both.

  “So?” Kellan urged.

  “So what?”

  “So, it’s not as if you gay guys have any trouble just—”

  Eli cranked his head to look up. “You gay guys?”

  “Fine.” Kellan rolled his eyes. “It’s not like us bi or gay guys can’t just do the friends-with-benefits easy. You don’t have to do the family thing.”

  “But that’s the problem. I think Quinn is the family thing.”

  “Then I guess you’re screwed.”

  “Thanks a fucking lot.” Eli rolled back to face the random destruction on the screen.

  Kellan petted his hair again. “At least Nate would be happy you remembered a lot is two words.”

  “Tell me he edits your texts.”

  Kellan gently flicked Eli’s ear. “Maybe I won’t tell you the nice thing he said about you.”

  “What?” Eli looked up at him again.

  “He may act like a total brat most of the time, but I swear he’s got more common sense than guys twice his age,” Kellan quoted.

  “I was hoping for something about my ass.”

  “What I mean is, you’ll figure it out.”

  “I hope so.” Eli started to drift off again as Kellan made that soothing stroke through his hair.

  “Good. Because you can’t spend your life on our couch.”

  Chapter Eight

  “And who else would be there?” Quinn tucked the phone under his cheek as he washed his coffee mug in the sink.

  “Just family.” Chrissy was as warm and friendly on the phone as she was in person. Quinn bet she was smiling.

  “And why is it at your house?”

  “Paula decided she would surprise him. He’s being grouchy about birthdays. And Claire’s having the downstairs bathroom redone. I know it’s short notice, but please say you’ll both be there.”

  Both? Quinn bit back the word before surprise spilled it from his lips. Eli. Right. Christ. Stalling for time, Quinn stared out at the backyard. The space between the shed and forsythia bush was bare. Eli again.

  “I’m not sure what his work schedule is like this week.”

  There was a bit of silence on the other end of the phone. Oh. Quinn was probably supposed to be asking his imaginary boyfriend what his schedule was. “And he’s not here right now,” he added.

  “If he can’t do Tuesday, we can make it—” The sound of a baby’s screech interrupted whatever she was going to offer as an alternative.

  Quinn heard Peter in the background. “Hey, Chris, I think he wants that thing from you I can’t give him.”

  A muffled moment, a hand over the receiver maybe, then Chrissy was back. “Here. Peter wants to talk to you while I take care of Gabe.”

  “Just a minute.” Peter’s voice was gruff. A door opened. Apparently they were taking this outside.

  “That was kind of a convenient interruption. Did you pinch him?” Quinn asked.

  “No, I didn’t pinch my son. Jesus.” When was the last time Peter hadn’t sounded tired and bitter when he spoke to Quinn? More than a year now, maybe longer.

  “So what do you want?”

  “I want you to not have made a fucking scene at the baptism yesterday. But since it’s too late for that, you’re going to drag your little piece of ass over here because Chrissy’s convinced that he’s about the most perfect thing ever and aren’t you two sweet.” Peter’s teeth were clenched, his voice tight.

  Peter probably wasn’t even angry. Quinn doubted anything hit Peter deeper than self-preservation. The clenched teeth meant Peter was trying not to throw up. Quinn borrowed a bit of Eli, though his tone was dry. “We are. I know.”

  “Well, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but if this is what it takes for my wife to—”

  “Be convinced I’ve never had my dick up your ass? I’m not sure that ship hasn’t sailed. But I think what would make everybody happy is knowing you won’t pull the same shit on her.”

  “I told you. I’m— I’ve always been—”

  “Straight except for me. Right.”

  “I don’t give a shit what you think. Just make sure you both show up.” Peter clicked off.

  He’d always done that when he was losing an argument. Hang up. Take the dog for a walk. Say he’d been called in for overtime.

  Quinn had barely put the phone on the counter when he fielded a call from Alyssa who wanted to know if she could talk to Eli and then Claire who had to tell him how much she enjoyed meeting Eli and Quinn should always feel welcome to bring his friends to meet the family. If Roger called to ask Eli to go bowling, Quinn was going to impale himself on a barbeque fork.

  He left to go buy some iris bulbs for the backyard.

  Over the next six hours, Quinn left Eli a voice mail and a call-me text. The bulbs were long-since entombed with a bonemeal shroud, and Eli still hadn’t called back. Eli might not deserve all of Quinn’s growing frustration, but Eli had to shoulder some of the blame for this mess. He was the one who decided to put on the boyfriend act for the family, spinning out lies until he had them running off to Hawaii to get married.

  Quinn had done enough sitting around and waiting the last few years of his life. He drove downtown, parking a block from Eli’s apartment.

  The walk only made Quinn more determined to spread around his own frustration. But the frizzy-haired girl, Marcy, wasn’t much help. After a girl with multiple piercings on her face joined the conversation at the door, it got a little easier.

  “Eli’s always forgetting to charge his phone.” The spikes in her lips glinted as she spoke. “Nate lives on Washington Hill. Corner of Lafayette and Broadway. I dropped him off there once. Third door in from this side of the corner. Uh, on the left—no, right.”

  “Thanks.”

  Chasing Eli to Nate—boss, vegetarian, ex-boyfriend, Nate—could really only come down on the side of creepy old man stalking younger guy, but Quinn still drove to Washington Hill. He found a place to park and then tried to tell himself he might run into Eli on the street. If that happened, it wouldn’t be like he actually went and knocked on the door. There were a few people enjoying a Sunday afternoon outside, walking dogs, sitting on stoops. None of them were Eli.

  The third door in had three buzzers, but two had two last names. Liu/James and Gray/Brooks. There was the third possibility. Schmidt. Damn, he wished he’d paid more attention to the name Alyssa was flinging around about the guy who’d come out and turned down his family’s money. Firmly silencing the voice in his head that told him this was far beyond stalking, he looked up the Ch
arming Rag on his smart phone and found the masthead. Gray, then.

  He pushed the buzzer, getting a masculine “Yeah?” in response.

  “My name is Quinn Maloney. I’m a friend of Eli’s. I—”

  “Shit. Did something happen to him?”

  “No, but—” Quinn wasn’t sure he could be heard over the buzz freeing the doorlock and the speaker calling for Nate.

  He climbed to the second-floor apartment, to be met halfway up by a twenty-something blond who had two inches and probably twenty pounds on Quinn. He looked familiar, and Quinn remembered meeting him at the club on Friday, though he couldn’t drag a name out of his memory.

  “What happened to Eli?”

  “Nothing. He’s fine. I just—”

  A shorter, slighter, dark-haired man with a neat goatee stuck his head out. “Told you. He’s fine. Could we move the drama inside and stop giving the neighborhood another free episode of Queer Theater?”

  Quinn followed them into a kitchen/living area.

  “Kellan.” The blond introduced himself again. “We met at The Arena.”

  “Right.”

  As Quinn found himself the object of two intent stares, Kellan’s curious and Nate’s openly hostile, a sense of the idiocy, if not downright disturbed nature, of Quinn’s search began to take full root.

  “Uh, I was trying to get a hold of Eli, and I know he doesn’t always charge his phone.”

  Kellan burst out laughing. “Eli keeps an emergency charge on him. That phone never leaves him. He feeds everyone that line when he doesn’t want to talk to them.”

  “So, Quinn.” Nate leaned against a kitchen counter. “Pretty desperate measures for a booty call. You know, I’ve heard there are clubs, online dating services. Maybe you could meet someone your own age.”

  “It’s not…” He should leave. While he had a shred of dignity. What the hell had he been thinking chasing a one-night piece of tail all over Baltimore? And worse, because Peter fucking told him to? Quinn did need a therapist more than a date. Probably should have started seeing one after the hospital, like they’d wanted him to. “Something came up and I need to talk to him.”

  Nate straightened out of his slouch. “Asshole. What did you give him? Herpes? Syphilis?”

  “No, nothing like that.” Christ, this is insane. I am insane. “Forget it.”

  “He went down to the Inner Harbor to take pictures,” Kellan said.

  “What the fuck?” Nate snarled.

  “Thanks.” Quinn turned for the door.

  “Maloney.” Nate’s voice snapped out like a commandant on an inspection drill. “You do not want me pissed at you.”

  Quinn nodded. Rather than inviting a defensive anger, Nate’s protectiveness made Quinn glad Eli had friends who would look out for him.

  The Inner Harbor was a pretty general location, so Quinn did a lot of wandering. It was sunset when he found Eli staring hard at the massive brick power station which had been converted to a home for upscale chain restaurants. As the sun disappeared, the wind picked up and the temperature dropped, sending most of the tourists indoors.

  Eli’s hair whipped in his face, but he didn’t stop looking at the building, the outlines of neon glowing as the daylight disappeared. The buildup of frustration from the long search, at Eli stirring up the family with his made-up romance, disappeared on a long breath. The back of Quinn’s neck tingled at the release of tension. He wanted to walk up and wrap his arms around Eli, stand with him until Quinn understood what Eli was seeing. How exactly had Eli gone from not-my-type to can’t-keep-my-hands-off-him in less than two days?

  Eli’s gaze didn’t shift from the building as Quinn approached, but he said, “I wish I could have seen it before they fixed it up like this. Back when it was industrial.”

  “I could take you over to Dundalk. That’s all warehouses and shipping.”

  Eli made a face and shook his head. “I guess there’s nowhere between ugly and homogenized into a mall.”

  “Halifax.”

  “Huh?” Eli looked toward Quinn.

  “Nova Scotia. When I was in the Navy, we put in there once. The harbor is fixed up with restaurants and parks, but it probably looks more like what you’re thinking. It’s more narrow, has an old feeling, ships still use it. Lots of cruises stop there.”

  “Are you offering to take me there?” Eli turned to him, hands in the pockets of his denim blazer. If he had been taking pictures, his camera must be in his backpack now.

  “I thought you wanted to go to Hawaii for our honeymoon.”

  “Oh, right.” Eli looked down. Then he shrugged and grinned. “I think I’ll settle for Hawaii. I can be packed in ten minutes.”

  “That’s not on offer either.”

  Eli shook his hair out of his eyes. “So what do you want?”

  Quinn knew the conversation would go better if they were closer, touching. Preferably naked in bed. Eli sitting on Quinn’s hips, hands tracing his tattoos. Both of them sweaty and slick but looking for more. Pliant wasn’t a word Quinn thought anyone could use in connection with Eli, but maybe then he’d be receptive.

  “There’s another party.”

  Eli had been holding himself still, now he was rigid. “And? You need to come out again?”

  “No. Everyone thinks we’re dating.”

  “So? Tell them I’m out of town, tell them we broke up, tell them anything you want. What’s another lie on top of all that mess?”

  “You’re the one who turned it into a lie.”

  “Like the lie you’re all telling yourselves about that dick you were with? The way you all lie to make his bullshit marriage work?”

  Anger surged back, buzzing along his skin. “I didn’t ask you to do anything other than to go with me.”

  “Consider my work a bonus for the awesome sex. You’re welcome. Goodbye.” Eli walked away to stand at the railing and stare out at the water.

  Quinn followed him. “Whatever I did to piss you off—”

  Eli laughed, but his hands squeezed the railing. “Nothing. Your conscience is free.”

  “I don’t get it. You certainly seemed to enjoy yourself.”

  “No, you don’t get it. What am I, some fag-in-a-box for you to take out to play with when you need to entertain?”

  “No. I told you I wanted to see you again. Before everyone started calling me about you.”

  “I don’t get it either. Who the fuck are these people to you? Why does it even matter what they think or do?”

  “They’re my family.” Quinn wanted to shout it but held it to a whisper.

  “No, they’re your ex’s family. But if you want to tie yourself in knots over it, go ahead. Just don’t drag me along.” The words had a final ring to them. Words said before hanging up or walking away, but Eli remained at the rail, which meant he hadn’t stopped listening.

  “I thought you were leaving.”

  “You leave. I was here first.” Eli shoved at him with his hip.

  Quinn shoved back, fighting a smile.

  The wind brought fresh bursts of boat exhaust and oil from the bay, the smell so familiar Quinn could almost feel an engine rumble to life beneath his feet, though he hadn’t been on a ship in six years.

  It was a story Quinn didn’t like to tell, and thank God he didn’t have to often. The people who mattered knew. Now he told it to the soft slapping waves in the harbor, and Eli could listen if he wanted to.

  “About a year before I left the service I got sick. I’d had a headache, and my neck hurt. We were a day out of Norfolk after six months at sea. I only remember feeling really sick, the worst I’d ever felt in my life. I remember going to mess, and then I woke up in the Naval Medical Center in Bethesda almost three weeks later, feeling like I’d rather be dead. But Claire was there. She held my hand when I wanted to tear off my own skin from the pain.”

  “What was it?”

  “Bacterial meningitis. They gave us a vaccine when we joined, but I picked up a kind they don’
t vaccinate for. Four other people on the ship got it. One died, and one of them is deaf. They put me in a coma for treatment, and Claire came down every day. Sometimes with Roger, sometimes with Peter or Dennis. Even when they had to wear full HAZMAT suits to see me, they came in. I was in a coma for a week, and they sat with me. Claire read to me. Roger read to me.” Any light had turned to shards of glass tearing through his eyes into his skull, scraping every nerve until it screamed. He’d wanted to hide away from the pain, but somehow their voices kept dragging him back.

  “What about your parents?” The change in Eli’s voice meant he was facing Quinn now, but Quinn could only look at the waves, the sharp tips silver and green and pink from reflected neon.

  “My mom died of cancer when I was seven. My dad couldn’t cope. I went to live with my grandparents when I was twelve, but they moved to Arizona when I went into the Academy. They sent a card.”

  Eli made a disgusted noise.

  “I was barely sitting up when they discharged me, but instead of letting me go to a rehab, the Laurents took me home.” Quinn straightened up and let go of the railing. “I was lucky. No amputations, no scars, no brain damage. The headaches come back sometimes.” Headache was a ridiculous word for splintered glass in every inch of his brain, his hair feeling like needles driving into his skin, but that’s what the word was. “I’d cut off my own arm before I’d hurt them. Before I did anything to upset Claire. She saved my life.”

  Eli spread his hands out along the rail. “A bit of background would have helped before you put me on stage.”

  “I underestimated your ability to ad-lib.”

  “Give me a script this time.” Eli turned so his back was on the rail. “When’s the party?”

  “Tuesday at six thirty. It’s Dennis’s birthday. Chrissy’s hosting.”

  Eli winced.

  “I know. No script. Just try not to go overboard. Maybe take it down a few notches.”

  “That I can do.”

  “C’mon, I’ll give you a ride home, unless…” Quinn let it hang there, hoping.

  “No thanks. I want to walk.” Eli pushed up and leaned in. Quinn met him for a too-short soft kiss. “Night, Quinn.”