Nothing but Smoke (Fire and Rain) (5 page)

“No.” Nicky didn’t say anything for so long that Michael would have thought Nicky had hung up if it weren’t for the road noises. “Hey, can you hold on just a sec? Give me a chance to get up to my room?”

Michael shouldn’t be letting himself get roped in to whatever game Nicky was playing, but he settled back in his seat. “Fine.”

“Cool.” Nicky must have hit the mute button because all the sound on the line went dead.

A half minute later, Nicky’s voice rasped, “You still there?”

“Yeah.” The sun’s angle glinted off one of the buildings, and Michael reached in the glove compartment to find his sunglasses. “I’m here.”

“Cool.” A breathy break in his whisper. “So, can we…uh…maybe meet in the same place?”

Behind the safety of his dark lenses, Michael rolled his eyes. “Seriously?” He had nothing against Volunteer Park, but the whole point of going somewhere like that was to have
anonymous
sex. Calling someone to arrange a meeting there seemed… Well, it seemed like they should have figured somewhere better this round.

“Yeah. I mean, if you want.” Nicky sounded so hopeful it was hard to say no to him, though Michael knew he’d be better off keeping his distance.

“Whatever. Fine. You owe me a blowjob anyway.”

Silence on the other end…but Michael waited, listening for Nicky’s answer. Bottom line, Michael wasn’t going to drag his heap of a car to Capitol Hill in the next couple days unless he’d be getting his dick sucked for the effort.

“Okay.” Nothing in those two small syllables gave away what Nicky was thinking, but Michael’s pulse still revved into high gear. He’d love a chance to see Nicky on his knees.

Brown eyes looking up at him, thick neck straining as Nicky struggled to get Michael into his throat… Michael couldn’t be sure it would end up as sexy as his imaginings, but he was willing to give it a go. “So, tonight?”

“Sure. Yeah. And I’ll try to get that number for you.”

Michael chuckled. “Yeah, don’t worry about it.” He made his voice low and seductive, to hear if he could make Nicky’s whisper rougher. “Just make sure to wear your leather jacket. You’re going to need something for your knees.”

“Where are you off to?” Nicky’s mom tottered out of the kitchen holding a cup of tea. Her skin was still ashy pale, but according to her latest chest x-ray, the infection in her lower lungs had improved enough to let her come home. Nicky still felt she should be in the hospital on IV antibiotics. But unfortunately, he wasn’t a doctor, and his mom’s pulmonologist seemed to think pneumonia was a normal consequence once ovarian cancer spread to the liver and lungs.

Maybe he was right, but Nicky didn’t have to like it.

Worse than her early release from the hospital, Nicky’d had to move a hospital bed into the living room for his mom to sleep on. With her breathing troubles, she got too winded climbing the stairs. Now every time he went into the living room, that bed mocked him, reminding him how his mother was far sicker than she’d been a few weeks ago.

“Do you want me to make you something to eat first?” His mother clasped her hands around her teacup, looking too frail to be standing, much less making anyone food.

“No, thanks.” At least his mother’s early release had qualified her for round-the-clock care from a home health aide. It would only last another week before Nicky had to pay a hefty co-pay to keep that level of care, but Nicky was grateful as hell to have help right now he didn’t have to cover out of pocket.

“I’m going to a movie with a few of the guys from work.” He kept busy checking the pockets of his jacket so he wouldn’t have to look at her while he lied. Nicky’s stomach twisted the same way it had as a kid. Fibbing had always given him a stomachache.

But he needed a break so badly he thought he’d jump out of his skin. Every waking hour in the past week he’d been at work or by his mother’s side. Nicky didn’t dare check the mirror before his date. He knew he looked like shit.

Good thing the park would be dark.

“Sounds like fun.” As his mother passed, she squeezed then rubbed his arm. “Anything I would have heard of?”

“Probably not.” The channels she watched ran commercials for medications and retirement plans, not trailers for the latest movies. Good thing too, since Nicky wouldn’t have been able to name anything in the theaters. “Just some action film Cody wanted to see.”

Darn it.
Nicky babbled when he got nervous, and gave his mom too many details that he’d have to remember later.

“Well, I hope it’s not too gruesome.” Another squeeze and rub, this time heavier on the squeeze. Smiling up at him, she said, “My handsome boy,” then continued her labored walk to the living room.

Michael’s words batted around in his head—how Michael didn’t go out with guys who wouldn’t be seen with him in public. In other words, guys like Nicky. Not for the first time, Nicky wondered what his world would be like if he’d told his mother when he first had feelings about boys. He’d been so scared back then, and had wanted to tell someone.

But months had turned to years, and then she’d gotten sick…

He bent to kiss her forehead. “Have the nurse call me if you need me, okay?” He’d told the same to the health aide hanging out in the kitchen, watching shows on their other TV.

His mother waved him off. “Have fun, sweetheart.”

Nicky hated driving his mother’s car, but given how exhausted he was he didn’t think it safe to take his bike. So he strolled down to where the Lincoln basked in the sunset like it had been reborn from its tomb in the garage. With a click of the key, the power locks opened, and Nicky slid into a front seat as spacious as a couch.

Billy Joel played on the radio, on one of his mother’s CDs that was still in the player. Nicky had left it in the illusion that his mom might be able to take her car for a drive again. He didn’t mind the music, though, so he sang along with the Piano Man as he pulled onto the street.

The couple times he’d driven since he brought his mom home from the hospital hadn’t quite removed the stale-garage smell, so he pressed the power buttons to roll down the windows, and let the night air blow past.

Maybe Michael didn’t date guys like him, but Nicky wouldn’t be in his situation forever. He would never hope that anything bad would happen to his mother, but the truth was the truth. Whether he wanted it or not, she was going to pass away.

And when that happened…well, Nicky wasn’t going to run out and start waving a rainbow flag. Certainly not right away.

But slowly…eventually… Some future version of him might be braver than the guy he was now, a version he caught a glimpse of when he thought about Michael.

The sky in the west shone pink along the horizon when he pulled into the parking lot. To his surprise, Michael already sat on the ledge alongside the steps that led down to the reservoir.

Nicky would have preferred to get out of the car without Michael seeing what he’d been driving, but unfortunately, Michael turned to look behind him.

His eyes widened in confusion—because, yeah, there weren’t too many cars of Nicky’s make and model driving around in the city—but then his gaze landed on Nicky, and Michael’s shoulders shook in a laugh.

“Screw you,” Nicky shouted to him, because he might be climbing out of a Town Car like an old man, but he wasn’t going to let Michael snicker. “At least my car doesn’t need a paint job.”

Michael narrowed his eyes like he was trying to frown but ruined the effect by quirking his mouth back into a grin. “Hey, I’d rather be driving a…” Hopping off the ledge, he noticed the stitches on Nicky’s cheek, and his mouth fell open.

Nervously, Nicky touched his face. There must have been a keychain attached to the side of that bicyclist’s messenger bag. By the time the ambulance had arrived for his mom, Nicky’s shirt had been red with blood.

“What the hell happened?” Michael walked toward him, all worried determination and forehead crumpled in concern.

“Got hurt on the bike.” Nicky didn’t want to get into a long explanation, especially not one that involved his mother. If he mentioned her, Michael might make any number of ridiculous, uninformed, inconsiderate comments. In five years of dealing with his mother’s cancer, Nicky had heard them all—from how the disease could be cured by diet, or acupuncture, or bright lights, to how the medical establishment had some big cover-up and didn’t even want to heal people.

After the week Nicky had, he couldn’t handle hearing that type of bullshit from Michael, no matter how well-meaning.

“Was another driver at fault? Or the bike manufacturer? You’re still getting paid while you’re unable to work right? Because if the accident is—”

“Nah. It was just a few stitches. Nothing serious.” Nicky could hear the exasperation in his own voice, but he wanted Michael to let it go. He needed to be swept away, gotten off. Kissed and touched. To be on break for a few hours.

Michael reached for his hand and wove their fingers together. “Okay. If that’s all it was.” He eyed Nicky’s face, like he was trying to figure something out. “So you really did have stuff going on?”

Taken aback, Nicky smiled. “Yeah. Why? You didn’t believe me?” With the tall tale he’d spun for his mom, Michael seemed like the only person Nicky actually told the truth to.

“I thought you hadn’t wanted to call me.” Despite his reddish hair, Michael wasn’t as pale as Nicky. But Nicky could still make out a trace of blush on Michael’s cheeks.

“I wanted to call.” Before he could think, Nicky tilted his head, leaned in and pressed his mouth to Michael’s. Their lips brushed together, messy and fast and a little off balance.

“Huh.” Michael stepped closer, taking Nicky’s kiss and upping the ante. “So, not only didn’t you get me that guy’s number, but you also didn’t call when you wanted?”

Thoughts scrambled in Nicky’s mind, fighting for primacy, but most of the ideas Nicky could string together were about getting his pants open and rubbing against Michael until both of them came. “I got you…” He dug in his pocket for the piece of paper with Harding Motors’ number on it. Handing it over, Nicky felt his cheeks and neck getting hot. “I went by the gym and asked around, and the guy who runs the front desk told me the name of the shop.” When he could finally stop his mouth from running, Nicky blinked into eyes that looked all the bluer against the purple sky. “And you said I owed you a…” God, he couldn’t say it out loud, but he wanted it more than anything.

The slow spread of Michael’s lips was the sexiest thing Nicky had ever seen. Better than porn, because in videos Nicky had always focused on the physical—an ass or a cock, thick thighs or the twirl of hair around a nipple.

He’d never searched a man’s face before, noticed how the hard edges fought with soft lips and eyes.

“Yeah, you do.” Michael reached for Nicky’s belt loop. “But, no offense, you shouldn’t be kneeling in the woods if you’re injured.” His tone was the same teasing drawl he often used. Maybe it was the set of his jaw, but Nicky was pretty sure Michael was honestly worried. “You could get dirt in it.”

“Um…” There had to be a law against sex in parked cars, and Volunteer Park was crowded enough that any number of people could see them if they made out in the backseat. Somewhere else, maybe out at Sand Point, there’d be more privacy. “We could drive somewhere. Depending on what car you wanted to take.”

“I rode over.” Michael jutted his chin at a ten-speed locked on a nearby bike rack. “Well, part of the way, but then a bus came so I put the bike on the front rack.” He paused, like maybe he was having the same problem Nicky was with babbling.

“We could take mine.” Nicky opened his car door. Looking over his shoulder, he asked, “I mean, if you wanted.”

Michael hesitated a second, but then bit his lip and held Nicky’s door open for him. “Yeah, sure. Why not?” When Nicky slid into his seat, Michael closed his door and went around to his own side, in a backwards imitation of a guy taking a girl on a date. It felt right—like how they were supposed to be interacting, and Nicky was hit with the notion that maybe Michael expected their relationship to follow that general boy/girl pattern. Nicky may not have talked to too many gay men, but he knew from poking around online that they often considered themselves tops or bottoms.

He’d never much thought about what category he fell into, since Nicky had been hoping to avoid ever having sex with a man, but now that he considered it, how he thought about sex sort of depended on what kind of guy he was imagining it with. With Michael, he didn’t know what to expect. On the one hand, Michael was taller, but Nicky must have outweighed him by thirty pounds.

Nicky watched the way Michael sat—knees wide and elbow taking up a good half of the oversized armrest—and interpreted every move like an unconscious signal.

“Are we going?” Michael flashed him a smile.

“Oh. Yeah.” There was no easy or straightforward way to ask Michael if he was a top in bed, so Nicky forced the thought to the back of his mind where it wouldn’t cause any problems. They’d already agreed on what they were doing that night, so unless Michael planned on a round two—and with his bicycle stuck at Volunteer Park, they wouldn’t have the time—fucking was off the menu.

Nicky twisted his key in the ignition, and the radio burst to life, blasting another of Billy Joel’s greatest hits.