The Broken Triangle (10 page)

“I don’t know,” Vin said. “It’s not something we discuss a lot. I don’t want to know what he did with other guys.”

“Or girls,” Patrick said. Vin choked, and Patrick clicked his tongue. “What? You said he used to date them. We don’t own ass fucking, you know.”

“Yes, I know!” Vin picked at a small hole in his jeans, enlarging it without caring.

The conversation was depressing him now, Patrick’s acid-tipped barbs puncturing his happiness and letting reality ooze in. “I think with most of the girls he dated it never went far. And since he came out, well, sometimes I think he hasn’t done much more than me. I guess I should ask him, but he might think I’m some possessive freak who’s going to hunt down all his dates and beat them up or something.”

Patrick hooted, genuine amusement making him look younger. “Vin, no one would ever go there with you. You’re the most levelheaded, centered man I know. You’re a rock of sanity.”

“I am?”

“Absolutely. And I’m not the only one who thinks so. Shane let you have his apartment, for God’s sake! He sure as hell didn’t offer it to me.”

“Shane didn’t want to move back in here after the reno. He liked staying at Ben’s too much.” It was mostly true.

“That too,” Patrick conceded. “Look, talk to Riley, okay? It’s not as weird as you’re making it out to be, and you’ll feel better. And I’ll feel better, which we both know is more important.”

“Thanks. Your sympathy is overwhelming.”

The shrug he got told him Patrick was getting bored. “It’s a dick up your ass. Tell him to use a pint of lube and take his time.”

“I know all that.” Vin gave an involuntary wriggle, warmth spreading through him. God, that first time fucking Riley had felt incredible. He’d loved the way the tight hole had yielded, taking his fingers, then his cock, with Riley’s breathing harsh and loud in the silent room. “I’ve fucked him, after all.”

“Ooh, you didn’t tell me that.” He had Patrick’s interest again, fake-green eyes lit up and sparkling. “Details?”

Enough was enough. “No. It’s private. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Well, you’re no fun.” Patrick gave him a speculative glance. “So when do I get to meet him? Officially, I mean, not just a nod and a hi in passing when he picks you up after work.”

“Meet him?” Vin repeated. “Uh, soon, sure. Sometime.”

Patrick sniffed. “I’m not good enough for your rich, handsome boyfriend? Too slutty? Too cheap?”

“No.” He said it without emphasis. It was the truth. It didn’t need dressing up. “We go can clubbing this weekend after we close, if he’s up for it. Got to be honest, though; I don’t see you having much in common.”

Patrick ate one last piece of popcorn before replying. “Yeah, we do. We both love you, don’t we?” He stood and bestowed a careless kiss on the top of Vin’s head. “Night, sweetie. Need my beauty sleep.”

Bewildered at the abrupt end to the evening, Vin trailed after him to the door, getting a final glittering smile, all Patrick’s walls up.

He closed the door and leaned his head against it, groaning. Shit. Patrick and Riley together? Think gasoline and a lit match. Throw in alcohol and a crowd already in a holiday mood, and it was going to get wild.

Vin straightened, a grin on his face as he focused on the positives. Dancing with Riley. Showing him off to the world. Having some fucking fun.

Wild? He could do wild.

“Go,” Ben said, making shooing motions. “Now. I’m not kidding.”

“Are you sure?” Vin repeated, but Patrick was already tugging at his sleeve.

“If you ask me that again, I won’t be.” Ben was smiling; he was such a good-natured guy. Sure, he could be a hard-ass about certain things, but overall he was a lot more easygoing than Shane. “Don’t worry. I can handle Shane.”

Vin didn’t doubt that. “Okay. Thanks. Leave whatever you don’t want to deal with, and I’ll come in before the early shift tomorrow to take care of it.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

With anyone else, Vin would’ve assumed that wasn’t meant seriously, but Ben said what he meant and he meant what he said. Vin smoothed his hand over the tight black T-shirt he wore, checking for dampness. A customer had spilled his drink—luckily club soda—and in the resultant rush to mop it up, Vin had gotten splashed. The T-shirt was stretch, a watered-silk pattern making it take the light well, and it was sleeveless, showing off his ink. It had gotten a low whistle of approval from Patrick, and even Dave, taciturn as ever, had winked at him.

Vin didn’t worry it was too much. Not where they were going. He’d seen men on the dance floor in nothing but posing pouches. His black leather pants were cut to show off his ass, and his boots—also black leather—were kinky hot, according to Patrick, but he wasn’t going to stand out in a bad way.

He’d been nervous about the restaurant on his first date with Riley, but he knew all the clubs, and he fit in, welcomed, known. He wanted to be with Riley in a place where they could be themselves. It was going to be great.

His anticipatory smile faded as they walked to his van. He’d arranged to pick Riley up and be the DD for the night, but even an hour spent cleaning the van couldn’t disguise the fact it was rust held together with string. Literally in the case of the front bumper. And Riley’s eagerness to go to a club had lessened when he’d discovered Patrick was joining them.

“I’d seen him around before we met up again,”
Riley had said flatly.
“I didn’t know he was a friend of yours then, or that he worked with you. He’s got a reputation for being kind of a slut, you know.”

“He’s a good guy,”
Vin had said.
“That’s all that matters to me. Give him a chance.”
He’d kept his tone mild, and Riley had grudgingly agreed. Still, it was the kind of comment that got under Vin’s skin, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last time they talked about it.

Patrick was bouncing next to him, uninhibited and frenetic as if he were on the dance floor. “Are you sure you don’t want to drink? Not that I don’t appreciate that you’re always willing to be the sober friend, but it could be a whole new experience for you, and at least you’d know you’ll be going home with your responsible boyfriend.”

“Responsible?” It wasn’t a word Vin associated with Riley.

“Yeah, you know. Good job—better than ours, anyway. He has to dress up to go to work. Plus he has a nice apartment, nice car, money in the bank. Face it. He’s a catch.”

“I don’t get how any of that makes him responsible.” Vin wasn’t arguing. “Out of my league, maybe.”

“No one’s out of your league.” Patrick gave him a reproving look before they shut their doors, the passenger side one squeaking loudly. “I mean, if you got drunk, he’d take care of you. Make sure no one took advantage of you, and put a cold cloth on the back of your neck while you were throwing up. That kind of thing.”

“You do realize this conversation is making me even more determined never to drink?” Vin asked.

“There’s the good bit in the middle where you feel confident—hell, brilliant. You shine.”

Vin reached over and nudged him affectionately. “You don’t need alcohol for that. Your T-shirts do the job all by themselves.”

“Do you think I’d have the guts to flirt with the men I want if I was sober? No.”

Okay, that was worrying. “Patrick—”

“Moving on, who’s riding shotgun? Do I have to ride in back when Ri-Ri gets in?”

“Don’t call him that. And, um, would you? It’d make it easier. He’s taller than you. He’d be bumping his head every time I hit a pothole.”

The van had two doors. To get to the bench seat in the back, the front seats had to be folded down. It wasn’t ideal.

“Fine.” Patrick’s pout was epic, but when they pulled up outside Riley’s apartment and Riley came out of the lobby, waving a greeting, he sighed and got into the back, even pulling the front seat up to save Riley the task.

“I was starting to think you’d be late,” Riley said, shutting the door.

“I’m never late,” Vin said.

“I know! That’s why it was a joke.” Riley leaned over to kiss him, and Vin went along with it even though he wasn’t sure how he felt about PDA in front of Patrick.

“Hey,” Riley said grudgingly into the backseat.

“Hi,” Patrick said, reaching out a hand like a queen to a subject. Riley shook it after a hesitation so brief Vin hoped he was the only one who had noticed it. “I’m Patrick Embry. I’ve heard so much about you. I feel like I could write a biography.”

Riley shot Vin a look of sheer panic.

“Now
he’s
joking,” Vin reassured him.

“I am. Sorry. Vin says you’re great. That’s all I meant.”

If nothing else, Vin thought, the conversation kept Riley distracted from the rough rumble of the van’s exhaust system, loud as hell when they were idling. Patrick made a valiant effort to draw Riley out, and Riley responded without letting himself relax.

It was a relief to get out of the van, even though an icy shower earlier had left the sidewalk slick. Patrick automatically slipped his hand under Vin’s arm, chattering away. It was so familiar to have Patrick use him as a source of body heat that Riley’s meaningful grimace didn’t register at first.

Oh. Right. Unwilling to shrug Patrick off, he gave Riley the sweetest smile he could and put his arm around Riley’s shoulders. “Anyone else feel like we should start singing ‘We’re Off to See the Wizard’?”

Patrick snorted with laughter. “Well, clearly I’m Dorothy.”

“And I’m the Tin Man. Except I found my heart now, I guess.” As soon as the words were out there, Vin felt a blush burning his face. Shit, how sentimental and sappy could he get?

“And I’m Toto,” Riley said with a growl that didn’t sound like an attempt to get into his role. “Couldn’t we have parked any closer? I’m freezing.”

“It’s right around the corner.” They were there in half a minute. Patrick went ahead, showing his ID and paying the cover charge that never failed to annoy Vin. Most of the guys there would buy at least three drinks over the course of the night, even if he wasn’t one of them, and the whole cover-charge thing seemed greedy. The music was so loud he could feel it right down to his toes, his chest resonating with the beat.

“Come on, let’s go!” Patrick spun around, arms in the air, then disappeared into the crowd of dancing bodies, no doubt expecting Vin to follow.

Tonight Vin held back, preferring to be with Riley. “Do you want to get a drink?” he asked. Having to lean in close to speak into Riley’s ear made him feel warm and tingly. He wondered what Riley would be like to dance with. He’d danced with Patrick often, but that was different.

“Do you?” Riley asked, looking confused.

“Well, a soft drink, sure!” He tugged Riley’s hand and led him over to the bar, where he ordered a soda and Riley asked for a draft beer that came in a cheap plastic cup. They wove their way over to a less crowded section of floor, and Vin got close again. “Are you okay?”

Riley nodded and swallowed some beer. “Yeah.”

Vin’s drink was mostly ice, the combination of cold, sweet, and fizzy lifting him as it always did. He stayed away from caffeinated drinks, but he allowed himself to drink them in the clubs, just for the buzz. Talking wasn’t easy, so he settled for standing close and smiling a lot, scanning the crowd for anyone he knew. After he’d waved or spoken to half a dozen people, some Square Peg regulars, Riley leaned in.

“You know a lot of people.”

“Comes with the job.”

They were almost shouting over the heavy beat of the music; the freedom of being able to yell without disturbing anyone was exhilarating. Vin never wondered why young kids ran around screaming for no apparent reason. They did it because it was fun.

Riley drained his beer and set the cup down on a nearby table, already crowded with empties. Vin gave it a severe look. That should’ve been cleared by now. Still, not his problem and not his job.

He added his empty drink to the rest and grabbed Riley’s hand. “Dance?” he yelled, needing Riley to agree, the pull of the music unbearably strong.

Riley shook his head but, before Vin could react, pulled him in close and kissed him, long and hard. “Now dance!” Riley said into his ear, and Vin found himself on the dance floor, surrounded by sweaty, gyrating bodies. He didn’t recognize the song, but that didn’t matter. It had been playing for a long time, so it had to be some kind of dance remix like so many of the tracks they played here. All that mattered was that it had a fast, solid beat and everyone was into it.

Vin knew he wasn’t a great dancer, but that didn’t matter either. He liked watching Riley, who was a good dancer, and attracting a certain amount of attention from some of the guys nearby. It made Vin feel good to know other people appreciated Riley’s hotness. Riley had been out here on the scene, dating and sleeping with anyone who struck his fancy, but when he was ready to get serious, he’d come looking for Vin.

It was easy to lose himself in the music and flashing lights and forget that he was tired. One song ended and the next began, and after a while he lost track of how long they’d been dancing. Riley left to get another drink and came back only to vanish to the washroom. Occasionally Vin caught a glimpse of Patrick dancing with a tall, skinny guy with glasses. He didn’t recognize the man, but Patrick probably didn’t know him either.

An in-between song started, the kind where you could either dance frantically or slow it down. Vin had no interest in protesting when Riley pulled him in close and ground against him.

He’d seen couples—sometimes groups—doing this, the sight arousing in a distant kind of a way. He’d never wanted to be part of the group he was watching, but how often had he dreamed of being on the floor dancing with Riley?

The Riley he’d pictured, loved for so long, was fading now, replaced by the reality. In some ways, Riley, the real Riley, was less perfect, but Vin had surrendered the imaginary boyfriend without a moment’s regret. He’d airbrushed his memories into someone impossibly perfect and unattainable, but the man he was pressed up against was anything but that.

Sweat stuck his T-shirt even closer to him, dampening his hair. He was hot, flushed, needing Riley so intensely he understood why some couples couldn’t wait to get home to fuck.