Open Seating (9 page)

It wasn’t long before they were joined by another blond, equally alluring but a lot edgier. He had lip and eyebrow rings, and his exposed arms were completely covered in tats. Black leather vest, pants, and shit-kickers finished off the bad-boy look he was hoping to achieve. They circled around Bryce possessively, blocking anyone else from joining their party. Grabby hands, gyrating hips, and sweaty torsos went straight to Bryce’s head, making him forget the rules of engagement he’d learned since he first started cruising the Chicago gay scene way back when. He was halfway drunk and intent on having a good time. Hanging on to his arms, the pair led him out of the club and into a cab, where they pounced on him like creatures of the night. One was sucking his nipples while the other was massaging Bryce’s cock through his jeans and talking dirty. It felt like a cheap porno, but he was drowning in dueling sensations and enjoying it too much to put on the brakes.

Bryce didn’t protest when the cab stopped, and one of the boys reached into his Boss jacket for his wallet with the wad of sterling to pay the fare. Somewhere in the back of his foggy brain alarm bells were going off, but he was being stubborn and ignoring his instincts. They were in front of an apartment building in the middle of nowhere as far as Bryce knew, when blondie number one got down on his knees, groped for Bryce’s zipper, and began blowing him in plain sight.

“Whoa,” he protested, briefly coming to his senses. “I don’t want to end up in jail for public indecency.”

“Not happening, mate,” blond boy number two assured him. He shoved his companion away, who released Bryce’s cock with a loud pop. Without protesting, they followed behind number two, the obvious leader, as they clomped up two flights of stairs and down a dingy hall that smelled of cooked cabbage, cat piss, and stale booze. Bryce was aware his surroundings were far from ideal, but he was in too deep to back out, and besides, he didn’t really want to. When was the last time he had a three-way with blond bookends? After the bullshit he’d endured with Seth the last couple of days, he felt entitled to some meaningless fun.

Three oversized bottles of beer were pulled out of the fridge and handed out. They drank thirstily, and it tipped the scales from almost drunk to full-on plastered. Bryce didn’t put up a fight when they began stripping him. Soon all three of them were naked, and the bed, which was really a lumpy pullout sofa, accommodated them nicely. Especially when they were intertwined. Instinctively, Bryce murmured “condom” and wouldn’t let anything proceed until they were properly sheathed. When everyone was ready, the daisy chain of cock to asshole began in earnest, and Bryce found himself at the very top of the tier, pounding the hell out of boy number two, who was deep inside number one.

Belatedly, he realized that the boys were more into each other than him, and his great contribution to their evening of bait and switch was his cash and favorite jacket. They did have the decency to send him home in a cab, telling the driver to take Bryce back to his hotel, which he slurred out when asked. Bryce had struggled when they showed their true colors, but in his current state, they overpowered him, and he ended up bruised and dejected by the time the cab pulled up to the hotel portico. He had no money, of course, and that turned into another shouting match until the concierge was kind enough to pay the driver and send him on his way.

By then, it was five in the morning, and Bryce was itching for another fight. He was furious for being duped, annoyed with Seth for starting the evening on a sour note, and irritated that the tour bus was leaving the hotel in less than four hours to take them to Southampton, where they would board the cruise ship, which meant he wouldn’t get a chance to catch up on sleep. He was so loud and out of control, they had to call Seth. He showed up in the lobby bleary-eyed and obviously wondering what on earth had happened.

“My God,” he exclaimed upon seeing Bryce. “You look like you’ve been through a war.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Come on,” Seth said gently. “Let’s go upstairs.”

“I can walk on my own,” Bryce snarled. “There was no reason to wake you.”

“They must have assumed I’d want to help. Do you still have your key card?” Seth asked in a soothing voice. He was steering Bryce toward the bank of elevators.

Bryce stuck his hand in his back pocket and handed it to Seth.

“Where’s your jacket?” Seth asked.

“Probably with my money.”

“At the club?”

Bryce snorted. “Forget it, Seth.”

“We could call and ask if anyone turned it in to their lost and found.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Bryce said.

“I don’t understand why you have to be insulting. People leave things behind all the time, and clubs and restaurants are inundated with calls the next day by frantic patrons.”

Sighing, Bryce scrubbed his face in frustration. Reluctantly, he explained, “The jacket is in the apartment where I had a three-way with two pieces of shit who robbed me after they had their fun. I’ll never get it back, and I’d appreciate it if you dropped this entire line of questioning.”

“You were jumped and robbed?” Seth asked, eyes all agog.

Bryce stepped into the elevator after it slid open, leaned against a mirrored panel, and shut his eyes. He could feel Seth by his side, more than likely dying to ask another question, but thankfully, he didn’t. Bryce wasn’t sure how he would react if Seth continued to interrogate him. When they got to their floor, he sprinted out of the elevator and hurried down the hall. He had to wait for Seth to catch up and open the door, but once inside, he toed off his shoes, stripped, and crawled into bed.

He was hoping there was enough booze in his system to knock him out, but he wasn’t that lucky. His temple throbbed from the sharp jab he’d received from one of the fucking blonds, and his lower lip hurt. He touched it gingerly with his tongue and winced when he tasted blood. He wondered what other surprises would be waiting for him when he took a close look in the mirror.

Now that he was safe and back in his own bed, he admitted to himself that he’d done everything wrong from the moment he’d walked out of the hotel and into the club. He had no business getting drunk and letting himself be lured into a cab, by two guys no less. The ultimate humiliation had been the moment he had realized the golden boys wanted his money more than his dick. He was just a pawn in their well-played con game, and it was a huge blow to his ego.

They could have sent him back to the hotel naked, but in the end, they’d done the right thing by letting him keep his shirt and jeans. The designer jacket, however, would bring in a tidy sum, so it was no surprise they’d kept that for themselves.

After the lecture he’d given Seth on being clueless, he felt like a gigantic fool. And an old one at that. What had made him think those hot young guys were seriously interested in him? He was just as dumb as his roommate, but worse because he knew better. Fuck….

TO SETH’S
credit, he didn’t say anything when Bryce woke up half an hour before they were due to depart for the pier. He simply handed him a cup of black coffee, two aspirin, and perched at the end of the bed.

“Thank you,” Bryce said, reaching for the cup after sitting up and leaning against the headboard.

“You’re welcome.”

“Do you need anything from me to check out?”

“No,” Seth replied. “I paid the cab fare they advanced earlier by putting it on our tab. They charged me a small housekeeping fee for the mess I made when I had my accident, which I totally understand and expected. Other than that, we’re paid up so you don’t owe anything.”

“Don’t I owe you?”

“Just the cab fare. The hotel was included in the total price of the cruise.”

“Okay. I’ll have to stop and get more cash. Those bastards wiped me out. Fortunately, I left all my credit cards in the safe with my passport.”

“How much did they take?”

“Three hundred pounds.”

“Shit… that’s a lot, Bryce. Why are you walking around with so much cash?”

“Habit. I always have a wad back home for random stuff that comes up throughout the day.”

“You’re not in Chicago anymore so carry less cash and use more credit.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Seth stiffened but didn’t lash out. “How’s your head?”

“It’ll get better as soon as the pills and caffeine have a chance to work.”

“Do you want to take a shower before we go? You don’t have much time.”

“Nah, I’ll do it when I get on the boat—unless I stink. Do I?”

Seth shook his head.

“Seth… about last night.”

“Don’t apologize,” Seth interrupted. “We were both overreacting. Let’s leave it at that.”

“Okay.”

Seth stood. “I’ll get my stuff and meet you downstairs.”

“Sounds good. What about breakfast?”

“If you hurry, you could catch a bite,” Seth replied.

“Aren’t you having any?”

“I’ll grab a granola bar.”

“Is your stomach acting up again?” Bryce asked.

“No, but I don’t want to risk it. I’m hoping I’ll do better with breakfasts on board the ship.”

“I would think so for what they’re charging.”

“They’re very careful about sanitation in the kitchen and dining area from what I understand. Too many cruises have been ruined by food poisoning.”

“Hopefully, we’ve seen the last of it.”

“Indeed. You’re supposed to gain weight on a vacation, not lose it.”

“We’ll have to work on that.”

“Bryce?”

“What?”

“I’m glad you’re safe.”

“So am I,” Bryce admitted. “I could kick myself for being so stupid.”

“Life lessons are such a pain.”

“That’s for sure.”

“See you downstairs?” Seth said.

“I’ll be right behind you.”

NEITHER SETH
nor Bryce had ever been on a cruise before, so the tedious process of checking in before boarding the ship was a learning experience. From the moment they got off the bus in front of the Southampton terminal, they and two thousand other passengers were herded like cattle into a huge building with row upon row of straight-backed wooden chairs.

“I guess it beats standing,” Bryce grumbled, trying to get comfortable.

“They say the lines move fast once they start going,” Seth remarked. “Now I understand why they wanted us here so early. It’ll take forever and a day to get everyone processed, regardless of the speed.”

“What do they do other than check our paperwork?” Bryce grumbled.

A silver-haired man to Seth’s right interjected, “Verify all your information and paperwork, take a picture for the onboard ID card, and get preapproval for your credit card to make sure there are enough funds to pay all your onboard expenses. This is standard on most cruise lines.”

“Funds? Isn’t everything already paid for?” Bryce asked.

“Not everything. Liquor, specialty restaurants, daily gratuities, spa services, casino chips, land excursions, and anything else you buy on board is charged to your room. You don’t pay for anything in cash,” the stranger informed.

“That doesn’t seem right,” Bryce said. “I thought this was all-inclusive. What about Internet?”

The gentleman smiled ruefully. “They charge you per minute.”

“What the hell?” Bryce said angrily. “How are you supposed to stay in touch with your business?”

“They know everyone is attached to electronic devices these days and have found a wonderful way to make money on a service that should be free.”

“I have to be able to get online as often as I want,” Seth said, panicking. “My editor and I need to be able to communicate.”

“Editor? Are you a writer?”

“Yes,” Seth said.

“How exciting,” the stranger exclaimed. “What’s your name?”

“Seth Wilder. You’ve probably never heard of me. My genre is historical romance.”

“I can’t say I have,” he admitted. “I read mostly murder mysteries. But my wife gobbles up romances. She might even have one of your books on her Kindle. My name is Andrew Callahan by the way.” He extended a hand.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Callahan. This is Bryce McFarland, my traveling companion.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

Andrew was clutching two passports in one hand, Seth noticed, and the alert eyes behind the wire-rimmed glasses kept straying to the opposite end of the room. There were several doors marked with the restroom logo. One of them opened, and an attractive woman in a tailored blue pantsuit walked out and waved at Andrew. He stood immediately, acknowledging the greeting with a smile on his face. He tracked her slow progress across the room with the vigilance of a German shepherd, poised to vault to her rescue should she need it. Seth noticed her cane, which explained Andrew’s concern. The woman didn’t seem much older than her partner, although she was definitely impaired in some way. Seth guessed the couple to be in their early sixties, but he might have been mistaken. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d guessed wrong. These days everyone looked younger than their chronological age.

Andrew met his wife when she got to their row and gently held her by the arm, guiding her to the chair beside his. When she was comfortably seated, he introduced her.

“Mr. Wilder, this is my wife, Jeannie.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Seth replied.

“How do you do,” Jeannie said graciously. The accompanying smile was genuine although Seth caught her looking at Andrew for reassurance.

“Mr. Wilder is a writer,” Andrew informed her. “Have you read any Seth Wilder romances?”

Jeannie’s face lit up. “I most certainly have. How delightful to meet you in person.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Seth said, always thrilled to meet one of his readers. “Please call me Seth.” Remembering Bryce, Seth said, “And this is my friend Bryce McFarland.”

“Good to meet you, ma’am.”

“Likewise. Both of you need to call me Jeannie.”

“Let’s drop the honorifics all around,” Seth suggested.

“Sounds like a good plan,” Andrew agreed. “Where do you men live?”

“We’re both from Chicago,” Bryce said.

“Andrew and I have been there a few times,” Jeannie said. “It’s a beautiful city when it’s not snowing and windy.”