Things hadn’t always been easy. Her emotional outbursts used to embarrass me as a kid, and there were times when I wanted to do other things instead of helping her mend after her newest tragedy, but we were a team, she and I. We always would be.
“Do you want to stay at my place tonight?” I asked. “We can drink wine and eat ice cream and talk about how all men except me suck—and not in the fun way.”
She pulled back and wiped her eyes. Her mascara was running, giving her raccoon eyes. “You shouldn’t have to ruin your night to take care of me. You probably have places to go after work or boys to bring home instead.”
The thing was, I knew she wanted to stay at my apartment. If she hadn’t, she would have gone home instead of coming here. When Mom felt hurt, she couldn’t be alone, so it was either finding another guy or coming to me.
“Nah, there’s no one in there I want tonight anyway.”
“If you’re sure…”
“Yep.”
“This is the last time. I promise you. I’m done with men. I’m staying single or…I don’t know. Maybe I’ll become a lesbian.”
I rolled my eyes. “Mom, a lesbian isn’t something you can become at will. You either are or you aren’t.”
“Well, let’s just say I’m open,” she replied, and I chuckled.
“Come in while I finish up.”
She nodded, and I led her into the club.
I found an empty spot for her at the bar, then made my way to Dane. “Hey, man, that’s, um…that’s my mom. Can you keep an eye on her for me?”
He frowned slightly but agreed. Jesse would have questions later, I was sure.
My first stop was to find the sexy bodybuilder who’d approached me earlier. When I did, I said, “Listen, something came up. I’m not gonna be able to hook up tonight.”
“What the fuck? I’ve been waiting for you all night.”
I shrugged. “Sorry. It is what it is. You have time to find someone else.”
While I’d wanted to fuck him, I wasn’t going to let him make me feel like shit for canceling. It was never too late to say no.
From there, I went to get myself back into the rotation. Chet, the owner, found me and said I could go ahead and leave for the night. While it would have been nice to finish my shift, I agreed. I was lucky they were cool at the Playground. Anywhere else, I might have gotten in trouble, but I’d worked there long enough that they knew I wasn’t a slacker and always did my job well.
I went to the back, changed my clothes, and without taking the time to remove my makeup, headed out to Mom again.
When my mom had turned twenty-one, she’d worked in bars too. We were both good dancers and liked the nightlife and being around people. But as much as I loved her, one of the things that scared me the most was how much like her I was—free-spirited, emotions always running high. I even did the same kind of work she used to do.
That was why I was never giving away my heart. I wouldn’t give anyone the power to hurt me the way she had been her whole life.
2
Clark
“Sure, Mom. I can show the property,” I said as I came through the parking garage door of my apartment building and headed to the elevators. “Listen, I gotta go.”
No way I’d tell her what I had going on tonight. She’d surely frown upon it, might even think I was a bit off my rocker. But my weekly Zumba class was my own, and I’d looked forward to it all day. That feeling of letting loose and releasing tension wasn’t something I needed to explain to someone who wouldn’t get it. My parents’ idea of blowing off steam was planning a party for a hundred of their closest associates with champagne and ice sculptures.
“Mr. Havemeyer,” the doorman called just as the elevator doors were opening. “A package was left for you.”
“You can call me Clark,” I told Eddie for the hundredth time, and he grinned, knowing he wouldn’t because this was his job and he was required to address tenants formally.
As he handed me the medium-sized box, I searched my brain, trying to remember if I’d ordered anything. I glanced at the package. “No return address?”
“It was hand-delivered by Mr. Sinclair.” Eddie gave me a knowing look.
“Oh, okay. Thanks.” My ex. Great. I stepped into the elevator and punched 8 for my floor.
Donald Sinclair and I hadn’t worked out, but I wasn’t sad about it, quite honestly. In fact, the only thing I was bummed about was my parents making a fuss about it. Mom insisting we’d been perfect together. What she really meant was, we’d been the right kind of gay couple to fit in her society world. And she wasn’t wrong. In that, we matched up seamlessly. We were both successful real-estate professionals and only children from well-off families. Fortunately, I worked for Havemeyer and Whitney, my parents’ agency, while Donald’s office was on the other side of town, or it would’ve gotten awkward fast.
He was also the sort of guy I’d always gone for—taller and bigger than my smaller frame—and while the sex had been good, I’d eventually grown restless of always being his perfect, needy bottom. So I kept my toppy fantasies alive only for solo jerk-off sessions.
The thing was, I wanted what many people did—to be in a long-term, committed relationship, and maybe have a kid or two—but I didn’t want to settle just to please my parents, which was what I did most of my life anyway. Still, I couldn’t complain. I’d worked my butt off to prove myself at their company, I lived in a great area of town, and I was happy—most of the time.
I tucked the box under my arm, juggling it with getting the key in the door. As soon as I stepped inside my place, I set the box on the coffee table, already forgotten as I went to my room and changed. Mom would be mortified at my outfit—she’d tell me my nylon shorts were appallingly thin and that my favorite 2018 Olympics tee wasn’t a high enough thread count, but I was entirely comfortable, especially for where I was going.
I poured myself some water from the tap, and after heating up leftovers from yesterday, I ate on the couch while staring out at the skyline from my apartment window. While the view was worth what I’d paid for it, and the rest of the space had the best furniture and appliances, it felt a bit monochromatic sometimes. Or maybe just empty. I really should’ve invested in more colorful abstracts or something, but most days I was too busy to give it a second thought.
Thankfully, my musings were interrupted by a sharp rap on my door, and I smiled as I pulled it open to find my neighbor, Gretchen. She and her girlfriend, Hope, lived across the hall and were the first to welcome me to the building, with a box of fresh bagels on the morning I moved in two years ago. Hope traveled a ton for her sales job, so I rarely saw her, but Gretchen and I had gotten to know each other better over coffee and the fresh muffins I’d brought over to return the favor, and since then we’d become friends. I even fed their cat for them when they went out of town.
“You ready?” she asked, adjusting the bag on her shoulder.
“More than ready.” I grabbed my stuff and followed her out the door.
As we walked past Eddie at the front desk and onto the sidewalk, I felt eager to get there already. The idea that I would be psyched to walk two blocks from my apartment to participate in a Zumba class was ridiculous, honestly. But somehow, Gretchen had talked me into it, and I was hooked after the first session with our hunky teacher. That wasn’t why I liked it, though watching him maneuver his toned body didn’t hurt. The reason was the deep satisfaction I got from moving my body this way and that, expressing myself freely to upbeat music. Besides, when was the last time I’d even been to a club? So not my thing.