I woke up at midday with morning wood and an unshakeable feeling of loss. My late night lover was gone. All that lingered of Jack was the scent of combined spunk that shouldn't have been sexy and the dent from his head in the pillow beside me.
I sat down with a cup of coffee I coddled between my hands. His disappearance got under my skin in a way I didn't want to inspect. It was pretty damn clear he didn't have any place to go. Had I sucked at sucking cock? He sure hadn't acted like it. But then he was one motherfucking talented showman.
I groaned and bunched my forearms on the table. It didn't matter why. The fact was the rejection stung. And when the hell had I gone and grown a pair of tits and a matched set of ovaries to go with?
Getting up, I rinsed out my mug. I leaned back against the sink and stared at the table where we'd sat eating breakfast together just a few short hours ago. I remembered the soft feel of his hair in my hands, the stunning blue color of his eyes, the intense hungry kisses that were never enough and just the beginning of more.
I was a stalker. He was a one-night-stander. Maybe that made us even.
In lieu of hunting Jack down and dragging him back, I spent another fan-fuckin'-tastic Christmas Day thinking about the night before and what had almost been and what wouldn't be. Fucking sad case. Then I watched ESPN while baking, tackling two stereotypes at once. Big butch dude and sports. Possibly gay guy and baking. Muffins and stud muffins.
Who are you kidding? There is no 'possibly' about it. You spent a couple hours rolling around naked, giving and receiving head with the most gorgeous man you've ever met. Thinking about him makes you spring a boner and you had an out-of-body orgasm . . . with a man.
After that complete wake-up call, I turned off the internal commentator as well as the loudmouthed one on TV. I also shut down the
I'm-a-homo-at-last
hallelujahs because I had to call my family. I spoke to Ma, Pa, my two brothers and one sister all settled within four miles of each other back in the small Iowa town where I'd grown up. They yammered on about birthdays and college sports and new babies and when was I coming back to meet a nice girl, get hitched, start a family?
After that I escaped into a six-pack of beers.
My guitar hero, porno fantasy didn't have a set the next night. That didn't stop me from looking for a shock of black hair and a blaze of true blue eyes inside Mosh. No dice though.
I handed a Tupperware container of muffins to Jane, figuring she could put them in baskets for breakfast the next morning at Nosh if they were up to snuff. She peered at the contents. She watched me scanning the crowd like my eyes were laser beams that could latch onto Jack and pull him in.
"Ooh, Beef, you are hankerin'." Shrewd Jane leaned over the bar.
"Huh?"
"C'mon, come to my office. You can tell me all about it."
I met her at the swinging doors to the admin hall and backstage area of the club. She hustled me into her office and shut the door. Pouring a couple drinks from her personal stash, she sat behind the desk and propped her feet up.
"Listen, Beef, from the dyke to the not-so-straight-stud, your secret's out."
And apparently the floor had just dropped out from under my feet too because I had a bad case of the head spins. "Wait. You're a—"
"Lady lover, vagina miner, a chick licker." Her grin grew impossibly huge the more my mouth gaped open.
I snapped it shut. I rubbed my forehead and tried to think of something useful to say.
Are congrats in order? "Oookay
. But I'm not—"
"Get over yourself already. And if you wanna keep your big secret, you probably oughtta stop eye-fucking our favorite Cajun
chanteur
."
My cheeks felt like they burst into flames. "I don't—"
"Lust after Jack? Yeah, you do. Why do
you think I keep tryin' to throw you at him? You're desperate for some nasty dick action." She snorted and knocked back her liquor. "Listen, babe, I'm all about the rainbow of love so any hang-ups you have about your homosexy-ness, get over it right now." She ran a hand through her spiky hair. "Took you long enough to figure it out though."
My jaw dropped to the floor as I dropped my ass to a chair and downed the whiskey neat.
"Look, if things don't work out with you and Jack Frost pretty boy, I don't imagine you'll have a hard time pickin' up another hot piece of ass."
Could not believe I was having this convo with my boss. "I'm not gay."
Deny, deny, deny.
"Yes, you are."
My brow scrunched. "Maybe just for him?"
"How many damn times have I caught you with pussy dripping off you like gold chains from a rap singer? And you always look like a lamb bein' lead to the slaughter. One look at Jack and no one can get your attention. No one. I don't care if you think you're a hitchhiker on the gay highway, but at least admit you have the hots for the man."
"I took him home last night."
She poured more whiskey. "Cheers!"
"He got me off then took off while I was sleeping."
"Oh, hell."
"Any more words of wisdom? Maybe another street boy you wanna set me up with?" Stomping to my feet, I had my eyes on the door.
"Sit your ass down." A command from Jane was not to be messed with even if I could take down the five-foot-four hard-ass woman.
I plunked into my seat.
"Why do you think we call you Beef?"
"Because I'm big and dumb as a side of?"
