Cast Off (13 page)

“I don’t do relationships. No strings. No expectations.”

Ian considered that for a moment. Because for once in his life, he
wanted
expectations. The desire for such might be unexpected and might be sudden, but now that he’d allowed himself to consider he could be a man
with
expectations, he wasn’t willing to let it go. And maybe he didn’t have to.

“I understand that, but I think we also need to take into account that our connection has some unusual elements. Because we’ve already got strings.”

“What are you talking about?” That fear flared to life in Rick’s eyes, and Ian spoke immediately to calm him. Ian had never ridden a horse in his life, but he’d read about lathered horses that needed to be gentled to the saddle, and Rick forcibly reminded him of a wild horse who’d never felt a saddle on his back.

“You’re friends with Davy. And Kurt’s my brother and my best friend. Even if you and I end up hating each other, we’re going to be thrown together periodically. Strings.”

Rick’s breathing evened out a bit. “Yes, that’s true. And I’d rather not be worrying about… our drama. In those situations.”

So close. Ian just had to bring it home. “Me neither. I think the answer here is to become friends.”

“Friends?” Rick clearly hadn’t expected that option.

“Friends. With benefits. No strings, no exclusivity.” Ian had to work hard not to strangle on those words, but it was too soon. Hell, Ian wasn’t ready for strings or permanence. Not yet. Unlike Rick, though, he was willing to entertain the idea as a future state. Willing, hell, he was more than just willing, but he needed to dial back his enthusiasm. “But we’d have the ability to hang out comfortably, and when the occasion arises, we end up in bed.”

The fear in Rick’s eyes disappeared as he thought about Ian’s words. “Friends with benefits. Isn’t that the same as a fuck buddy?”

“You ever hang out with a fuck buddy when you weren’t fucking?”

“Well, no, not really. Except for Ivan.”

Ian’s nostrils flared. He wasn’t going to have a jealous outburst. He wasn’t. “Okay, so what made him an exception?”

He deserved a fucking medal for keeping his voice evenly modulated.

“Not sure, exactly. I’d met him not long after he’d gotten out of a long-term relationship, and he was gorging himself on men. We’d had sex a few times, but it soon became clear that he was going to want a relationship one day. Most times, when a guy decides he wants something permanent, he’s ready to stop seeing me altogether. Ivan, though, wasn’t ready for permanent but we both knew it would happen and not with me. Somehow, we ended up just hanging out periodically without sex. It was nice.”

God, he hated thinking and talking about Ivan, because that green-tinted anger still existed, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

Ian had a sudden thought. “What about your other friends? Davy and Jon? You ever have sex with them?” He’d been introduced to a couple of other guys at Kurt’s house-painting party but he didn’t recall their names.

Rick’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you want to know?”

Ian raised his hands palms out, as though to ward off a blow. “Just want to make sure we’re going about this the right way.”

Rick frowned but replied, “No, never. Came close a couple of times, but it never happened.”

If Ian’s cock were capable of speech, it would have let out a wail of distress. It was exactly as Ian feared. Sex wasn’t going to help his cause any and would probably hurt it. If he wanted to get closer to Rick, he’d have to do it without the benefit of… benefits.

“Okay, then. Let’s work on becoming friends. There’s a midnight showing of
Raiders of the Lost Ark
at an indie theater near my place. Want to go catch that?”

“Harrison Ford in his heyday? Yeah, I could so do that.”

Ian did not miss Rick’s lascivious tone, and Ian agreed. It was one of his favorite movies, for several reasons.

“But how shall we occupy ourselves until then?” Rick stared at him as though expecting him to say “sex.”

Ian forced himself to shrug. “Dunno. Did you eat? We could grab a late dinner. Get to know each other better.”

“This sounds suspiciously like a date, darling.”

One day, Rick was going to call him by an endearment that he didn’t use with every random person he came across. One day.

“Don’t you eat with Davy? Have drinks with Ivan? See a movie with Jon?”

A reluctant shrug answered his question.

“What about the benefits?”

“Let’s focus on the friends thing first. We can figure out the benefits later, play it by ear.” Much to his cock’s dismay. But the look of pleased determination on Rick’s face told Ian he was doing the right thing. He needed to gentle this horse to his way of thinking.

“Sounds good, darling.” Rick stood and extended his arm. “Let’s go be friends.”

T
HE
Tuesday after the housewarming party-turned-movie night, Rick followed Ian into a small bar filled with people. They bypassed the hostess and several tables to ascend a narrow staircase. After walking past a few more tables, Ian pushed back a curtain and led him out onto a wood plank patio. The area was enclosed by wooden fencing that Rick associated with backyard swimming pools or barking dogs that were likely to bite. Oddly, the patio appeared to have been built around a few trees, and both fencing and trees were festooned with tiny white Christmas lights.

They took a seat at a table in the corner and Ian ordered them beers.

“This is a great place,” Rick said as soon as the waiter departed.

“Yeah. They actually film part of some TV show out here. Supposed to be set in Washington DC, but a bar’s a bar, right? I like this outdoor bit back here.”

Rick could see why. The atmosphere was very backyard barbecue, even though the specials marked on a nearby chalkboard were gourmet burgers and fusion cuisine. He sipped at his beer and checked out the clientele. Seemed like normal, everyday people.

For several minutes, they sat and drank.

The silence between them began to make Rick antsy. After all, wasn’t the whole point of this… appointment… to get to know each other? He resolutely refused to call it a date, even though it was probably more like a date than getting a simple beer with a friend or colleague. Because underneath it all was Ian’s request that they work on being friends. He didn’t recall ever having to work to make any other friendship develop, but then, as Ian had pointed out, he rarely slept with his friends. He still suspected ulterior motives.

Ulterior motives or not, drinks on a Tuesday night was so low pressure Rick hadn’t even hesitated in accepting when Ian had called wanting to get together after a late meeting. Three days ago, they’d had a great night seeing
Raiders
, and if Rick had started getting agitated in the intervening days, wondering if Ian had been serious about his offer of friendship, no one needed to know.

Ian ordered them a second round and when it arrived, Rick couldn’t contain himself any longer. “Aren’t you going to ask me anything?”

“There’s no real rush, is there? You haven’t double booked yourself tonight, have you?”

Well, put it that way…. “No. I just thought you had questions.”

“Sure I do. But this isn’t an interrogation. We can sit here and just enjoy each other’s company.”

With a supreme force of will, Rick managed to not roll his eyes. “Oh, well, of course, darling. I can do that.” For another ten minutes, maybe. The suspense was killing him.

Ian laughed. “If you’re so eager, why don’t you ask me something.”

Tilting his head to the side, Rick assessed Ian. What, if anything, did he want to know about this man? Not that there was any reason to suspect Ian and his big, hunky brother were anything alike beyond their looks, but Rick already knew a fair amount about their family just from the time he’d spent with Kurt and Davy. Truth be told, he probably knew more family stuff than he wanted, and he couldn’t quite believe they were as good as Kurt made them sound.

Jon never seemed to mind hearing the stories, but then, Jon still missed the stupid family that tossed him out when they found out he was gay. There was absolutely nothing Rick missed about his own family. The only nostalgia he had around his childhood involved pop culture, not family.

“Where do you work? What do you do?” Rick thought Kurt might have mentioned what all of his siblings and their spouses did for a living, but if he had, Rick wouldn’t have bothered trying to retain that information.

“I work for
Errant
.”

“Shut up. Honey, you don’t really, do you? I thought only Gothy vampire children and backstabbing old fags worked there!”
Errant
took a different spin on the celebrity scandal site, adding in the weirdest stories, like how to tell if your neighbor was a space alien or a vampire or a chupacabra. The best ones were when they managed to combine celebrity scandals with a whiff of ridiculous paranormal, like cursed jewelry or movie sets. The entire thing was like a mashed-up version of the paper that regularly reported sightings of Bat Boy with the celebrity scandal rags. Along with a decidedly Canadian spin, of course. Rick secretly read it all the time.

Ian laughed. “Well, there are probably a couple of both. And I’ve certainly heard the owner call himself an old fag. But I recognize that look. You’re a fan, aren’t you?”

“No, darling, the site is absurd. Surely there can’t be that many cursed movie sets in the world.”

“Uh-huh. Why don’t I believe you?”

“Okay, okay. I read it. It’s a total guilty pleasure.”

“Exactly what the owner intended.”

“It’s weird. The combination shouldn’t work at all, and yet it does. And implying the last big blackout was due to an alien incursion—simply genius!”

Ian took a moment to order a plate of fries with an assortment of flavored mayos and aiolis. Evil man must have the same fast metabolism as his brother; Rick had never seen Kurt consider the fat grams of anything he put in his mouth.

“I know. But the owner loved both concepts and couldn’t decide which way to go. So he went with both. Between all the TV and movies filmed here, and the Toronto Film Festival, there are tons of celebrities and the fantasmical paranormal nonsense gave
Errant
a unique spin, which I can attest, works.”

“So, darling, are you responsible for taking photos up celebrity skirts or researching the mating habits of the Canadian werewolf?”

“Ha, ha. I’m not one of the writers or editors. No, I’m a senior account manager. I’m the one who brings in the advertising money. Well, not the only one, but I did increase the incoming revenue by two hundred percent over the past three years.”

“Oh, well, then, I guess tonight’s on you, honey.”

“Actually, my job is how I heard about this place. A lot of local bars and restaurants advertise with us, and I’ll often check out the ones that look interesting.”

“Smart boy.”

Ian grinned at him and raised his beer bottle in a halfhearted toasting gesture.

The fries arrived, hot and greasy and salty. Saliva pooled in Rick’s mouth and he had a regrettable moment where he actually hated how unconcerned Ian looked when he popped four fries in his mouth at once.

“Have some.”

Rick shook his head, but with each inhalation, his resolve weakened. He braced himself for a return question about his career. He certainly wasn’t ashamed of what he did for a living, but inevitably people wanted to know why he’d chosen the path he had, and that was something he didn’t share with anyone.

“What about you? How do you support yourself?”

There it was.

“I’m a speech-language pathologist.”

“Huh. What is that, exactly? I mean, I can probably come up with the gist of it, based on the words, but it might be wrong.”

He dug a fingernail into a gouge on the table. “I help adults mostly. Dyslexia, speech disorders, various language issues relating to strokes or diseases. Sometime I help kids, but most times, there are SLPs attached to the schools. Sometimes a kid will require more attention than he or she can get at school and the parents will seek me out.”

“That’s amazing. Much more noble than what I do. How’d you decide on that?”

This was where it all fell apart. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Ian swallowed and licked salt from his lips. However functional the movement may have been, it still made Rick squirm. Ian was a sexy, sexy man, and Rick had up-close-and-personal knowledge of how Ian’s lips and tongue felt against his body. In silence, Ian assessed him, one eyebrow levered slightly up as though trying to categorize the results of an experiment. In an attempt to alleviate his discomfort at the inspection, Rick gulped down the last of his beer and slammed the empty bottle on the table. Glancing around, he signaled for the waiter, all the while pretending to be unconcerned about Ian’s intent perusal.

“Okay. How did you end up hanging out with Davy and the others?”

Relief flooded him at the divergence from discussion of his career. That question he could answer—mostly.

“Jon and I met while we were in university. We both worked in the same club and became friends.” No need to mention that they initially became close because the owner wanted them to strip together, nor that the club in question was in fact a strip club. “He and Davy were friends from high school, and they sort of adopted me into the group.”

He’d been unbelievably grateful that he’d found them. They ended up having a lot in common, but the simple act of finding friends had made his life tolerable. Good, even, though it was hard working so many hours while going to school. None of them knew the details around why he’d left home and moved to Toronto, but that hadn’t changed their acceptance one bit.

“We had a lot in common, and when we weren’t hanging out in someone’s dorm room, we were out in the clubs. Then, Davy moved in with his boyfriend, the one before Kurt, and over time we saw less and less of him until he died and Davy met Kurt.”

Did Ian want to be part of them? If so, was that because he wanted to hang out with Rick, wanted to find some gay friends, or wanted to spend more time with his brother? Rick had no idea if brothers spent a lot of time socializing with each other, but even Rick, who tried to avoid emotional situations, had been able to tell Ian’s rift with Kurt, before Ian came out, had hurt his brother.