Plan B (15 page)

“At least you didn’t say ‘good’,” I grumbled and slid into the seat, buckling in before sucking on my burning knuckles. I appreciated the fact that they were giving me my money’s worth and filling the cups to the rim, but really, I valued my flesh more than an extra sip of joe.

“You really aren’t a morning person, are you?”

“I think we have already established the fact that I hate mornings. Especially mornings that have me up walking across campus and having my flesh burned from my body. All before I’ve had my first cup of coffee.” Not to mention finding out I was at the center of rumor central. I could have cared less what they were saying about me, but if it got bad for Lance, I might not ever see him again. The thought made me physically ill. So I kept it to myself.

“Aww, poor Danny. Do you have a boo-boo you need me to kiss?”

“Shut up.”

He laughed and as he drove with one hand, he reached over and grabbed my hand, gently rubbing his thumb across my knuckles. It was hard to stay cranky, even with my caffeine levels dangerously low. His smile was broad, the sound of his laughter happy, and his palm warm against mine, and I had to admit to myself he was better at putting me in a good mood than my normal morning ritual. I put all thoughts of rumors and Mike on the back burner. I’d worry about it later, maybe do some damage control, but at that moment, I was going to enjoy being with Lance.

I grabbed my coffee and blew through the small hole in the lid. “Do you have family in Grand Blanc?”

“No, just friends left. My grandparents retired to Florida last year, but growing up I spent a lot of time with them and made a lot of friends there.”

“What do people in Grand Blanc do for fun?”

“A lot more than they do in Columbiaville, that’s for sure.”

“Like what?”

“Umm well…. They have a lot of great restaurants and they used to have a great high school football team and….” Lance tapped his thumb on the steering wheel and after a moment said, “Not really that much more than Columbiaville but they do have more people.”

“Sounds like a great town,” I said dryly. “Really, that’s all there is to do there?”

“About it. The occasional four-wheeling, tailgate parties, hunting in the fall.”

“What! No John Deere races or who-can-spit-their-chew-the-farthest contest?”

“Only on Sundays.” He laughed. “Sorry we ain’t as cultured as you city folks from the D.”

“Obviously.”

Lance looked at me over the top of his shades and I swear I saw him roll his eyes at me. “What did you do for fun growing up?”

“You saw my parents at the theater—they live for it and raised me to love it too. Dad’s a performer off-Broadway and Mom was a dancer, so I grew up going to see plays, musicals, ballets, and on the rare occasion a show wasn’t in town, we spent a lot of time at museums, art galleries, art fairs, stuff like that.”

“What about friends?”

“I went to high school at an academy of performing arts, so most of my friends are into the same things I am.”

“And what do performing arts kids do for fun when they’re not being all arty?”

“You’re awful nosy this morning. What’s up?”

Lance maneuvered us onto the expressway heading north and set the cruise. “You started it, but now you got me curious. So….”

“There was a small group of us who hung out a lot. There was always a party, a rave to crash, something. Probably not that much different than the stuff you and your friends did.”

“Crashed parties, sure. But I can honestly say my buds and I never crashed a rave.”

“They aren’t just for gay boys, you know,” I said and frowned.

“No! I didn’t mean it that way.” He pointed at his face. “Can you imagine this mug in makeup? And I’m small compared to most of my friends. They would look ridiculous in drag.”

“Oh, honey, you obviously have never been to a rave if you think everyone only dresses in drag. I’d love to take you sometime.”

“Yeah?”

I pulled down my sunglasses and batted my lashes at him. “Oh, yeah.”

“That sounds ominous.”

It wasn’t ominous but it would be a riot to see straight-laced Lance Lenard in the club setting. I suspected the poor guy wouldn’t be able to get it up with the amount of blood that would be flushing his face in embarrassment. I was serious that raves weren’t strictly for the gay boys, but for the ones I attended, the straight guys were definitely a minority. Add in alcohol and more drama queens than on a high school cheerleading team, and I’d have a ball just watching Lance squirm.

I hid my snort of laughter in my cup.

We spent the rest of the time chatting about clubs and our favorite music. Classic rock seemed to be the only thing we had in common, but for some reason I couldn’t quite explain, I loved just being near him. Our conversation was light, playful, and before I knew it, we were pulling into a nice subdivision. Tree-lined streets, large brick homes, and lawns impeccably landscaped. We pulled into a driveway at the end of a cul-de-sac and I whistled low. It was the largest house in the neighborhood and the façade of the home—as well as the black Mercedes parked next to the dark green Jaguar in the driveway—screamed, “Look at me, I’m the richest on the block.”

Lance put the car in park behind the Mercedes but didn’t cut the engine. “I’ll only be a second.”

“Okay.”

He’d barely made it up the walkway when a blonde came running out of the front door and threw herself at Lance. From where I sat, I could see him visibly stiffen, but I’m pretty sure it was for my benefit when the girl threw her arms around his neck, practically crawling up his body, and pressed their mouths together. From the way she behaved, this was the way they always greeted each other. And the kiss wasn’t a just-friend kind, that’s for damn sure.

My stomach rolled as I watch the two of them, standing not fifteen feet away from me. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to look away. I felt sick, betrayed, and trembled with anger. The rage flooding me was completely irrational. Even in the grips of jealousy, I recognized how absurd it was, but I was helpless against it. I was also powerless to keep my eyes averted.

When I looked back, Lance was hurriedly leading her to the front door by the hand. At the last minute, she turned back, our eyes met, and I turned away quickly. I recognized her as the girl Lance had brought to the theater, and the ugly green-eyed monster roared again. How long had they been dating? Did she know about Lance’s secret? I highly doubted it. It was a dirty little secret, one he’d protect at all costs, and I knew that in the pit of my gut.

Get it together, man
, I internally chastised myself. Lance was a jerk-off buddy, a JOB, nothing more, so why did I care who he was dating? I was sick in my gut and in my head. I was turning into a total nut job, arguing with myself, trying to tell that part of me that was screaming
you’re falling in love with him
to shut the fuck up, when the driver-side door opened and Lance slid into the car.

On the inside was this crazy torrent of emotions, like two sides of me were literally battling it out, slashing and tearing away at each other, leaving me dizzy and nauseated. But I hid it. I would not let Lance know what that kiss did to me. I plastered on a fake smile and asked, “Get your phone?”

“Yeah.”

He pulled out of the drive without sparing a look my way. I could tell he was still tense, perhaps waiting for an attack, at least a verbal one. He wouldn’t get it. Although inside the battle of raging storm of emotions continued, on the outside I was completely calm and at ease. I was an actor and damn good at becoming someone else, and as we drove back south, I was Mr. Happy-go-lucky without a care in the world.

It was a great performance.

T
HE
Unity sat right smack dab in the center of Main Street. An old church built in the 1840s, it had long been converted into a restaurant. I was all smiles when I held the door open for Lance.

“After you, sir.”

He gave me a skeptical look, but he allowed me to hold the door for him. As I stepped inside, the scent of smoked meats and spices filled my nostrils, and my stomach growled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten. The décor had an authentic feel to the building’s original purpose. Oak floors, large stained glass windows that lit up the room in vibrant colors, even the pews that were used instead of booths looked as if they’d been available during Sunday morning sermons when the church first opened its doors.

In the center of the room, more pews sat back to back with several tables placed in front of them, running the length of the restaurant, and a wooden bar spanned the entire back wall. I couldn’t help but snicker when “
now that would make church way more interesting
” popped into my head.

We seated ourselves at one of the booths—pews—and I grabbed a menu from the rack. “This place is so cool. What do you recommend?”

Lance pushed his shades up on his head; his eyes still looked wary. He could wait all he wanted. I was not going to ask him about the peppy blonde girlfriend. I gave him a big ol’ smile. “Well? You have been here before, haven’t you?”

He nodded. “They are known for their sausage, and the macaroni and cheese brings people from all over.”

I set the menu aside. “Then I’ll have both.”

I looked up just as a waiter set water glasses down in front of us. “Hi, I’m Bran. Welcome to the Unity, have you ever dined with us before?”

Bran was tall, lean, with a well-toned body, head full of shaggy brown hair, and dark stubble on his jaw. His smile was warm with just enough of a smirk to make it sassy. I couldn’t help but think that by the way he was looking at me, he was used to seeing men in full makeup, or he simply liked it, since there wasn’t a shred of disgust evident in his eyes, nor was there shock or confusion. And there was no denying the attraction in those baby blues. I liked him instantly. He had good taste and he was frickin’ hot.

I shifted to give Bran my full attention. “My friend here has, but it’s my first time. What do you recommend?” It was irrelevant that I’d already decided what I would be having.

“The pecan and cherry
-
smoked pork sausage with sautéed mushrooms and onions is really good. Sandwich-wise I’d recommend the Panino, and of course, our mac and cheese is very good.”

I rested my elbow on the table, chin cradled in my palm, and looked up at him through my lashes. “What’s on the Panino?” I asked in full flirt mode.

“Salami, pepperoni, capicola, provolone, lettuce, tomato, and vinaigrette on a baguette. It comes with our house potato salad.”

“Mmmm, sounds yummy, I’ll have that and the macaroni and cheese, and water is fine.”

“Great choice.” Bran turned his attention to Lance, who was now scowling. “Do you know what you’re going to have or would you like a few more moments?”

“Large mac and cheese with ham and a Coke.”

“I’ll get those in for you right away.”

Bran walked down the aisle and my eyes were instantly drawn to his cute butt. The plaid shorts he wore hugged the tight globes, giving a glimpse of the flexing muscles as he moved. Holy Jesus, he had the most amazing wiggle I’d ever seen. Being an ass man, I’d checked out a lot of asses in my life and never had I seen anyone who swayed and moved as he did. It was pure boner-popping perfection.

“See something you like?”

Without looking away from that mesmerizing walk, I answered, “Mmm hmm. That boy would be fucking amazing in heels. He has nailed the sexy walk.”

“Danny, he has a beard,” Lance bit out.

His angry tone grabbed my attention. I smiled, and with exaggerated sugary sweetness, said, “Oh, honey, I noticed. He’s all man beneath that diva strut, but he’d still look damn good in heels, beard and all. However, there is this little thing men have been using for ages called a razor if he decided to do full-on drag. Although, you seem to have forgotten how to use it as of late.”

Lance pursed his lips, his face flushed, and I swear I could see him vibrating. “I thought you liked the beard.”

“I do. But, unlike you, I like variety in my men. A tiny twink can be just as entertaining and sexy as a big hairy bear. Not that Bran is in either of those categories. That man is in a class of his own.”

Yes, I was baiting him. My sarcasm tends to get downright bitchy when I’m irritated. I wasn’t lying about our waiter, he really was sexy, in an adorable, snuggle-you kind of way. And normally, I would have kept those thoughts to myself around a date. However, after witnessing what I had earlier, I was hurt, and I refused to define our shared lunch as a date. My defense mechanism in hiding my pain is my wit and it burst forth in the form of acrimony.

Bran showed up with Lance’s Coke. I was proud of Lance for not snapping at his hand when he set the glass down in front of him, but I’m pretty sure he was thinking about it with the grunt of “thank you” that sounded very much like a growl.

“Your meals will be out shortly,” Bran said.

Bless his heart, Bran was a smart man. He knew exactly what I was doing, as evidenced by the way he glanced at a brooding Lance and gave me a wink before he left to work his strut and I purposely leaned to watch the show.