Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“Trinsky…no whipped cream,” he warned, typing away.
I gave a thumbs-up, plucked two towels from the bathroom, and hopped onto the bed, hands raised in surrender. “You sure? I’ll put a little on your dick and suck it off. Or…you can do me.”
He winced. “I need BJ practice, huh?”
I mentioned we’d been in bed for three days, right? Okay…that was a slight exaggeration.
Jake had gone back to his hotel to sleep, but we’d hung out at my place all day. We hadn’t planned to be together…it was an organic thing. He didn’t have anywhere to be until his agent showed up, and it had been easy to talk him into coming over. My house was a little ridiculous, but it was private.
Privacy was crucial. Neither of us was George Clooney famous. I could usually go anywhere in LA and maybe get stopped by an occasional hockey fan for a selfie and an autograph. I always got more attention in Denver, and no doubt it was the same for Jake in Boston. However, Jake and I hanging out together anywhere in the country would be a real story. Especially now that we were in the midst of a “rivals playing nice” campaign.
We didn’t want to draw attention to ourselves, and it was easy to lay low at my house. I had plenty of diversions to offer—a well-stocked kitchen, an endless supply of video games, every cable subscription service known to man, and…the beach.
Jake had worn his ball cap and hidden with me under an umbrella, debating our teammates’ stats and new league policies. We’d talked about our mutual friends—how funny it was that Denny’s marriage to Hank was no longer big news. We’d discussed our volunteer pro colleagues who’d sign on as counselors for the Elmwood Juniors’ this summer and how excited his little brother, Nathan, was that his favorite hockey heroes were coming to town again.
He'd asked about Eddie a couple of times. What were his friends like? What did he do during the summer? Was he coming by to visit again? I’d answered, but I hadn’t supplied details. It wasn’t something I did.
But I could discuss baseball. And Jake was a huge fan. He loved his Red Sox, and I loved my Dodgers. A built-in rivalry gave us another thing to spar over. Of course, I wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with him if he’d rooted for the Dodgers’ true rivals, the Giants.
“Fair. Same deal if you were a Yankees fan,” he’d countered, smiling at me before gazing out at the ocean from the beach chairs we’d lugged from the house. “My dad took me to a lot of Phillies games when I was a kid, so I’m sort of a Phillies fan too. Mom still gives my dad a hard time for that, even though he was literally born there.”
“Your mom is kind of a hoot.”
Jake’s forehead had creased in confusion. “I forget that you’ve met my mom. It’s weird.”
I’d chuckled. “And your stepdad, and your dad and his husband, and your brother and sisters. I know the whole brood. And check this out…I was standing in line at the ice cream parlor last summer behind your first-grade teacher, who told the whole damn store about the time you’d worn two different sneakers to school and you were so worried the police were going to arrest you for it.”
“Ouch. That’s a rough memory.”
“Why? It’s cute.” I’d reached out to tweak his nipple.
Jake had growled and swatted me away. “I get that it sounds cute, but my parents divorced when I was about five years old and even though they’ve been friends ever since, it was unsettling for me. I was one of those super-sensitive kids who worried about adult shit I had no control over. If I was with my mom, I worried that my dad was lonely. If I was with Dad, I’d worry Mom would forget to take out the bins on trash day. Stupid stuff kept me awake. I think it was ’cause I noticed how different they were. My mom is very practical and kind of ballsy. She’s tough but kind, and lives life out loud, no regrets. Dad is this uber-friendly man who goes out of his way to be helpful. I was really young when I realized he had more to lose.”
“How so?”
“Because he was the only out gay man in town. And assholes judge. I overheard Mrs. Alberts whisper that it wasn’t right for a gay man to be raising a child on his own. She said it was scandalous. I had no idea what the word meant, but the way she’d clutched her pearls, it had to be bad. She also said someone should take me away…bless my little soul. Or something like that.”
“That bitch,” I’d growled.
“I know, right? Until that day, I’d always liked Mrs. Alberts. She was this deceptively sweet old lady who carried a red purse with her everywhere and smiled at everyone. I vaguely remember Crabby Annie being nearby and telling her that if anyone should be taken away it was Mrs. Alberts’s good-for-nothin’ son-in-law for stealing petty cash from the town council.”