Waiting for Ty (5 page)

His landline rang, and he checked the caller ID, hoping it was Ty. When he saw Nikki’s name, he didn’t answer. It wouldn’t take his sister a New York minute to figure out something was wrong. Then she’d hound him until he told her what it was.

His cell phone rang. Nikki again. Damn, she was persistent. He didn’t answer. She’d think he’d lost it or forgotten to charge it. It wouldn’t be the first time or even the hundred and first. He could just imagine her rolling her eyes.

He flipped on the TV and channel-surfed but couldn’t find anything to hold his attention.

He should do laundry. He was out of underwear. He trudged to his closet, grabbed the clothes basket and detergent and headed to the laundry room on the first floor. Washing machines were lined up on one side and dryers on the other. The room was hot and crowded with women, some with kids. When he’d first moved in, they’d given him a wide berth. This wasn’t the best part of the city, and he was a big man. But since he hadn’t assaulted anyone and they’d grown accustomed to him, they smiled and said hello.

He snagged the last washing machine and emptied the basket into it. After accidently tie-dyeing a couple of white T-shirts his first year in college, he’d figured out that if everything he wore was dark blue or black, he didn’t have to worry about his T-shirts changing colors when he washed them. The exceptions were his burnt orange Longhorn shirts, and they were dark enough to stand up to the blue and black.

He’d never gotten the hang of sorting clothes. His sisters had tried to teach him several times and couldn’t understand why he didn’t get it. “It’s not rocket science,” Nikki had said. Problem was there were too many exceptions. Maybe if he’d been as interested in his clothes as his work, he could remember them all. But he wasn’t, so he just wore blue and black and burnt orange. Even his boxers and running socks were black.

Once the machine started, he set his basket on top and stepped outside, where it was cooler. A couple of boys kicked a soccer ball on a small patch of grass in the courtyard, their discarded jackets on the ground at the edge. One of them was his neighbor’s kid, Joseph, which meant Joseph’s mom was around somewhere. He hadn’t seen her in the laundry room. Maybe she’d run up to the apartment.

A car alarm went off somewhere in the distance. Not too close but still annoying. Nearer, a dog barked. Street traffic hummed constantly beneath all the other noises.

He wasn’t surprised when Joseph’s mom showed up and joined him. Yvonne was about his age, married. Long, curly brown hair and brown eyes, average height, great body. Her family had moved in next to him about a year ago. Their first day in their new home, she’d knocked on his door to introduce herself, her husband and their son. Landon was always awkward around new people and went out of his way to avoid them. That first meeting with Yvonne hadn’t been any different. Her husband hadn’t seemed any more comfortable with the introductions than Landon.

He’d hoped that was the last time he had to interact with them, but Yvonne had been determined. She’d made it a point to engage him in conversation every time she saw him. In the parking lot, on the stairs, while he was unlocking his door. It was as if she were on some kind of life-or-death mission. Her tenacity reminded him a lot of his sisters. Of Tyler too, for that matter. After a few weeks, she’d started inviting him to dinner. Initially, Landon had declined those invitations. But her persistence had worn him down.

And he was glad for it. It had been uncomfortable at first, but now he appreciated her dinner invitations and even extended his own—not as often as she cooked for him, but he did return her hospitality every couple of months.

Landon had also helped her son with a school science project last fall. The boy was bright and had an interest in math and science that his mother and father encouraged but couldn’t keep up with. Which reminded him.

“I just got a new computer,” he told her, “and I was wondering if Joseph would like my old one. It works. I just needed more processing power.” Actually, he hadn’t really
needed
more processing power, he’d just
wanted
more.

Her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped a second. “Oh, Landon. You know he would love that. Let me talk to his dad first and make sure he’s okay with it. A computer...” She paused and shook her head. “That’s a big deal.”

“It’s old,” he explained hastily. “Good for writing reports and doing research. Not much else, although if he’s interested I could teach him some basic programming on it.”

Her eyes teared up, and Landon began to panic. He didn’t do well with crying women, not even his sisters. He shouldn’t have said anything, should’ve just dumped the damned thing on her doorstep or given it to the Salvation Army. That’s where all his other furniture was going next weekend. His sisters had threatened him with nonspecific but horrific punishment if he brought anything but his electronics into the new condo. But he’d really wanted Joseph to have the computer. In the end, a few tears from Joseph’s mom were a small price to pay.

She touched his arm and said, “You’re such a sweet man.”

He wondered how sweet she would think he was if she knew that he’d fucked a man last night and again this morning. Would she change her mind? Would he lose her friendship?

As they watched the boys kick the ball around, his thoughts drifted back to Ty. He hadn’t seemed particularly happy this morning. Okay, that was an understatement. Kind of like saying a nanoparticle wasn’t particularly large.

I
shouldn’t have said the L word.
Damn it!
What was I thinking?

Problem was he hadn’t been thinking with his head. He’d been thinking with his heart and his dick. The only bright spot was that Ty had said they’d work it out. He’d said Landon was important to him. He hoped to hell he’d meant it, that Ty hadn’t been placating him.

“You should join them,” Yvonne said. “It’ll cheer you up.”

That made him laugh. “If you’d ever seen me with a ball, you wouldn’t suggest that.” Landon was the stereotypical, uncoordinated geek. Much to the disappointment of the coaches at his high school. Because of his size, he’d quickly attracted their interest. Football, basketball, baseball. They hadn’t believed him when he’d told them he was a klutz. He’d had to prove it. He’d actually seen tears in the eyes of the football coach after the first day of practice. And they hadn’t been tears of joy.

“You don’t have to be good. Just run around and have fun.” She nodded to the boys. “That’s what they’re doing.”

It was true. They were laughing as hard when they missed the ball as when they got in a solid kick.

“Hey, Joseph,” she yelled to her son. “Kick the ball to Mr. Landon.”

He panicked. “I don’t think—” But the ball came rolling toward him, and he stumbled over his feet, somehow managing to kick it back before he could finish his protest.

The two boys, Joseph and Mario, raised their fists above their heads and cheered as if he’d just scored a goal.

“Come on, Mr. Landon,” Joseph shouted. “Me and Mario against you.”

Landon laughed. “That’s hardly fair. You two are pros. I’m an amateur.”

He couldn’t dissuade them, so he spent the next twenty minutes getting his ass kicked by a couple of nine-year-olds. It ended when they tackled him to the ground as if they were playing football. He couldn’t remember when he’d laughed so hard.

While he wrestled with the boys, he heard Yvonne’s voice raised above their laughter. “I hate to break this up, but Mr. Landon’s washer has stopped. You boys let him up.”

They rolled off, giggling and shoving each other. After Landon pushed himself up from the damp ground, he couldn’t help but notice the smug grin on Yvonne’s face.

“Okay, so you were right,” he admitted.

Her smile grew. He waited for the “I told you so,” but it didn’t come. Instead she said, “Go. Put your stuff in the dryer.”

After transferring his clothes from the washer to the dryer, he went back outside and leaned against the brick wall next to Yvonne, content just to stand beside her, soak up the winter sunshine and watch the boys play. It lulled him into thinking things would work out with Ty. Not to say that they wouldn’t have some obstacles to overcome, but what relationship didn’t?

Yvonne stared at him curiously for a moment before saying, “He always makes you sad.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re always so happy, so upbeat...except after
he’s
been here.”

Every muscle in his body tensed. He tried to stay calm, tried to relax. “What are you talking about? ‘He’ who?” But he was terrified he knew exactly who. Had she heard them through the walls last night?

“The handsome one. Tyler.” She paused, and he wondered how she knew Ty’s name. She answered the question as if he’d spoken it aloud. “I met him yesterday. You never talk about him. You talk about your family, your work, but you never talk about him.”

He struggled to think of something to say.

She continued, “Friday evening when you came home from work, you were so happy you were whistling. I heard you coming up the stairs. Yesterday he arrived. Today you look like you’ve lost your best friend. It happens every time he comes. Or should I say every time he leaves.”

Landon would have paid good money for a clue about how to respond. He just stared at her, stunned. His heart pounded, and heat crept from his chest up his neck and face and down his arms. His hands shook, and he shoved them in his back pockets so she couldn’t see. If she knew, how many other people had figured it out? It didn’t bother him, but Ty... Landon didn’t think he was ready for the world to know. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it again.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to tell anyone. I only bring it up because my brother—” She took a deep breath and swallowed hard. Her dark eyes were watery with unshed tears. “It was hard for him. He didn’t think he could talk to anyone. He was afraid of what his family and friends would think. The secret...” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “He killed himself.” Then a little stronger. “I don’t want that to happen to you.”

“I’m not—I don’t—” His mind was racing so fast—grasping for something, anything—he couldn’t form a coherent thought, much less articulate it.

She rested her hand lightly on his upper arm. “You can talk to me. I don’t know what your family’s like. I don’t know if they’d understand, but you can always talk to me. I don’t care who you love as long as he treats you right.”

Landon nodded jerkily.

“You’re a good man,” she said fiercely. “You deserve good things. Remember that.”

Chapter Seven

Ty sat in his pickup truck in a parking lot near the lake in Hermann Park. It was emptying out, but there were a few stragglers enjoying the last hour of sunshine on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. Mostly couples and groups of teenagers. The couples quiet, the teenagers rowdy. It was warm with his windows up, so he rolled them down to enjoy the cool weather. He rested his left arm on the window frame and grasped the top of the steering wheel with his right hand.

He caught glimpses of the lake. The sun, low in the west, bounced golden light off the shimmering surface. In the middle of the lake a fountain shot up like water gushing from an oversized, popped sprinkler head.

The interview had gone well. He’d managed to calm down his source and convince her to open up. She’d even given him emails. She’d also provided names and numbers of people who could corroborate her story. He’d already phoned all three of them. Two had declined to provide any information. But one had agreed to an interview tomorrow. If that went well, he’d be calling on the senator for a comment tomorrow evening.

Slam dunk. He loved his job.

Now if he could just figure out what to do about Landon. He needed someone to brainstorm with him. Unfortunately, when it came to personal issues, Landon filled that role. Trouble with a woman, he talked to Landon. Family problems, he called Landon. Confrontations with coworkers, he vented to Landon. Didn’t matter that his friend didn’t say much. Sometimes all he needed was to talk it out. And sometimes, Landon would make one seemingly innocuous comment that would put everything in perspective.

But now, Landon was the problem, so he couldn’t talk to him. That left him with no one. It was a lonely feeling. He couldn’t call his family—even if they knew he was bi, which they didn’t, and even if they approved, which they wouldn’t. None of his friends knew he was bi. Until last night, he was pretty sure Landon hadn’t known. Hell, he might not know now. He might think Ty was gay.

Fuck
. Why did sexuality have to be so damned complicated? Why couldn’t he just be straight? He liked women, liked having sex with them. But he’d never felt for a woman what he felt for Landon. He’d never experienced the closeness with them that he did with his best friend.

But anything other than friendship was impossible. There was no question what his family’s reaction would be. Well, one question. Would they spew their Bible verses before casting him out, or would they just turn their backs on him?

He shook his head. He hated thinking of his family like that, especially his mom. She was gentle, kind. Her love and warmth had filled their home when he was growing up. It was hard to imagine his life without that love. But her faith was strong, and her church’s interpretation of God’s word was law. Ever since he’d realized what he was, the love that he’d taken for granted, that had once embraced him, now seemed fake, glossed over, brittle. Because the truth was his family didn’t know him. If they did, that love would shatter.

He and Landon had screwed up last night. He didn’t need a brainstorming session to know that. If they couldn’t go back to the way things were, they would have to end their friendship.

Just the thought of it left him feeling empty.

Scared.

Sick to his stomach.

Landon was pretty easygoing, so he might be okay with Ty’s crawdadding, his skittish retreat back to the hole he’d been hiding in until yesterday. Hell, Landon might even be relieved. Either way, Ty didn’t think he’d force the issue.