Rick muttered, “Sorry. I’ll go clean up.”
Jimothy silently pointed to the side wall where there was a bathroom sign, and Rick walked to it, let himself in, and solidly closed the door behind him.
What did I just do?
If he set aside the best blow job of his life by so huge a margin that any other blow job didn’t even count—and it was hard to set that aside—he’d just outed himself in a way he never had before. Only a few guys who Rick paid one way or another knew he liked guys at all, and of them, only Denny knew he liked to take it up the ass. At least he hadn’t gone that far with Jimothy, but he might as well have. Hell, he’d about screamed the walls down he’d loved that oral so much, and it had to be pretty obvious that being pushed around by that queeny guy had done it for him down to the ground. Did Jimothy notice? Maybe he just thought Rick liked blow jobs—like all guys, gay and straight liked them? Of course, he’d asked why Rick hadn’t said he was gay, which probably meant Jimothy had assumed Rick was straight—before. Like most people did. Like Rick worked hard to make sure most people did. And fuck, it was a lot of work.
The fact was, Jimothy would likely not say anything to anyone if Rick asked him not to. Jimothy was a nice guy, a good man. The sad part was that Rick had probably lost Jimothy’s friendship and certainly his respect with his “not exactly” crap, but no matter how he thought about it, he couldn’t quite get past that answer.
He sighed, peed, washed his hands, splashed water on his face, and brushed the last of the hair from his jeans. Finally, he looked in the mirror. Do I look stupid? Pretending to be somebody I’m not? Sure as fuck, that’s what his father would say. He took a deep breath. But Alice wouldn’t, and that was all that mattered. He ran his fingers through the shorter, but still pretty luxurious, hair. Funny, his head and face actually felt cold.
Speaking of cold, it was time to face the music.
With a yank, he opened the door and walked back into the salon.
Jimothy was sitting in his own chair, head back and eyes closed. He looked up, smiled, and said, “I’m sorry I gave you the third degree. You’ve got no obligation to inform me or anyone else of your sexuality. Well, unless you’re going to marry them, I imagine.” He grinned. “And I certainly have no complaints about my personal experience of what you prefer.”
Rick probably looked stunned since that hadn’t been what he expected to hear. “I—”
Jimothy held up a hand in that adorable bossy way of his. “I’m starving. Let’s go to dinner and talk.”
In fact, when he searched his stomach instead of his soul, Rick was hungry too. He nodded, and in a flurry, they were out of the salon and into Jimothy’s car heading south.
“Where are we going?”
“Dizzy’s. It’s got great food and a quiet atmosphere. Unless you don’t like it.”
“I’ve heard of it but never been there.”
“Well, great. I can pop your Dizzy’s cherry.”
Rick snorted, but it was only another ten minutes, and they were turning onto the very road that Rick used to get to Theodore and Snake’s house, just not as far up the hill. Jimothy parked in one of the only spaces behind the restaurant.
Inside the old, converted house, the maître d recognized Jimothy and gave them a great table in the back corner by the windows. The restaurant didn’t have a view of anything except the Pacific Coast Highway, so the windows were covered in old-fashioned lace curtains with flowered drapes over them. A waiter quickly took their drinks order—wine for Jimothy and beer for Rick—and then brought them both a small glass of dry vermouth and some pâté and crackers.
Rick glanced around. “This is really nice.”
Jimothy smiled. “It’s a family place with clientele that’s been coming here regularly for decades. I only found it a year ago, but it’s a fave when I want something low-key.”
Rick sipped the vermouth. “Isn’t this what we had at the Flying Fish?”
“Yes. This is where I fell in love with it.”
The silence wasn’t really strained, but it felt like he should say something, and the words fell out. “I’ve mostly always dated women.”
“I figured that.”
“Back in high school, I had a couple experiences with guys. Groping in the back seat kinds of things, but everyone pretends that shit’s just normal boys-will-be-boys stuff, and I told myself I’d get over it.”
“But you didn’t.”
“When I got out of school, I said no more. That lasted for a couple years.”
Jimothy reared back in his chair. “Holy crap, they should give you a medal.”
The waiter came, and they both ordered salmon. Jimothy recommended the soup, and Rick decided to give it a try, whatever potato leek tasted like.
When the waiter left, Rick kept going. Funny how it felt kind of good to talk to someone even if the someone had just given him the blow job of the century, or maybe because he had.
“So yeah, the sex I had with women never quite did it for me. I kept telling myself I hadn’t met the right woman.” He sighed loudly. “I guess I still tell myself that.”
“Hope springs eternal, I suppose.”
The soup came, and man, Jimothy hadn’t been kidding. It was so good, they both asked for seconds and got them.
After their second bowl, Jimothy sipped wine. “Is it really better to date women?”
“In my world, it is.”
Jimothy hugged himself and grinned. “Ooooh. All those hammers and screwdrivers and muscles? How can you resist?”
Their waiter brought their dinners, and they both paused to appreciate the fish, rice, and veggies beautifully displayed on their plates.
Rick took his first bite and closed his eyes. “Man, that’s delicious. The sauce is incredible.”
“I know. They say it’s just lemon, capers, and butter, but whatever spices they use are pure magic.” After a few bites, Jimothy said, “So, it’s better to date woman in your world? Even with all those delicious he-men running around?”
“See, that’s one of the problems. I’ve never met a guy who worked construction who turned me on. Weird, huh? I guess that’s one reason I kept telling myself there had to be a girl.” He shrugged. “Plus, if I’m gay, I pretty much have to give up ever seeing my father again, and since I work for him, that’s a problem.”
“I thought he gave the business to you.”
“No. Just a little bit of it. My old man isn’t the most giving of people. But hell, he built the business. There’s no reason why he should give it up.”
“Except that you do all the work.”
“Yeah, but he pays me well.”
“Really?” Jimothy’s eyes got wide, and he slapped a hand over his mouth. He squeaked, “Sorry.”
It took a second for Rick to get why he’d reacted that way. Then he nodded. “I know, I live like a bum.” He shook his head. “I put my sister through college and grad school and now there’s the wedding. After that’s over, it’ll take some getting used to the idea that I’ll have disposable income.”
Jimothy frowned. “I don’t mean to pry, but why didn’t your father pay for your sister’s schooling and wedding if his business is so successful?”