Previously on Sugar Match Ch.2
Being disoriented from sleep and still a little brain dead from orgasming to pieces earlier, I answered my phone without looking at who was calling.
"Perry, where the hell are you?"
On the list of people I didn't want calling me while I was naked in Gordon's bed, my Dad definitely topped it.
"Dad, what are you talking about?"
"I know what happened to your house and I know you're not staying at Teddy's. So where the fuck are you?"
"Wait, how do you know I'm not at Teddy's? And how did you know about the flood in the first place?"
My Dad paused for a good minute before continuing. His words came more measured than the irritated tone he used before.
"That's not the important issue right now. Right now, my son is God knows where and he didn't trust me enough to help him! Jesus, Perry! I know your independent but you're literally homeless! Don't you think a safe place trumps your ego?"
Anger and indignation rises in me as I listen to my father spew rapidly at me. By the end of his rant, my Dad is truly yelling at the top of his lungs. Which makes sense that at that moment, Gordon rouses from sleep to roll over and sleepily question, "Baby, who is that? Hang up and go back to sleep. Or do you want punished again?"
Horror washes over me like a wave as silence fills the line from the other end of the phone. There's no doubt that my father heard what was said but it's another question if he recognized Gordon's voice.
"Meet me at my house at 9 AM tomorrow," my father's voice is deadly as he orders me. Just as I'm about to sigh in relief, he adds, "And bring Gordon."
With that, my Dad hangs up.
--
Gordon
Usually, I don't mind silence. It's when I do my best work at the office. I know a lot of people can't function if there isn't some background noise but I revel in the quiet. I find peace in it.
But right now? I would do anything to make the silence stop.
Perry and I have been sitting outside of Oliver's house for five minutes in complete quiet, waiting for the courage we need to finally get out of the damn car.
When Perry woke me back up crying last night and told me what happened, and my role in it, I was crushed. He didn't blame me, but I certainly blamed myself.
I think part of the reason he didn't blame me for inadvertently revealing our relationship to Oliver, my best friend and his Dad, is because he was too afraid I would leave him again. And I really didn't blame him.
The last time were almost caught by Oliver, I left Perry naked and alone in my office and refused to trust in him. I hate myself for the way I treated him yesterday but today was a new day and I had a new outlook. Even though I'm scared to death over what Oliver is going to say when we walk in that house, this time I'm not leaving Perry. We're going to get through it; together.
Unclenching my hands from their position on the wheel, I let out a breath and glance over at Perry. He looks ahead, eyes covered by his bangs partially covering his pale face. All I want to do is take him home and pretend everything is okay. But right now, my boy doesn't need that from me. He needs me to be strong and take control over the situation. He needs me to put him first.
Reaching over, I slide my hand into his hair, run it down his jaw and stop at his chin, gently grasping it and pulling it toward me. Perry's eyes meet mine and my heart literally melts when they soften. I pull him toward me and without a word, I kiss his forehead. Hopefully without words, he'll understand that I'm giving him all my strength. That though uncertainty awaits us, we're gonna be just fine.
I know he understands when he leans his forehead against mine for a moment and then nods.
Pulling away from him, I adopt a serious expression and say, "Before we do this, I think it's best neither of us mention Sugar Match and its role in our relationship. If Oliver knew I intended to pay you for sex, I don't think I'd make it out of their alive."
At first Perry gives a small smile but then he realizes from the look on my face that I'm far from joking.
His face drops of all color as the severity of the situation hits us once again.
Grabbing his hand, I urge, "Baby, it's gonna be okay. Let's just get this over with, okay?"
Nodding, Perry squeezes my hand before releasing to reluctantly open the door and face our fate.
Together we exit the car and walk and hand to Oliver's front door. Glancing one last time at Perry, I knock on the solid wood in front of my face.
"It's open!"
Oliver's voice doesn't sound angry but it's hard to tell what kind of mood will meet us when we enter.
Perry leads the way as we head through the front door and trod quietly into the kitchen. There, Oliver stands leaning up against the counter, sipping a cup of coffee. His face is initially impassive but as soon as he sees our intertwined hands, his face shuts down.
The 25 years I've known Oliver means that I could name every single one of his facial expressions and what they mean. Right now, I wish I didn't know the meaning behind this particular one.
Perry and I stand in the kitchen doorway as Oliver continues to give us his "barely controlled rage" face. I assume that Perry also interrupts Oliver's face because he immediately lets go of my hand and walks forward.
"Dad, I'm-"
"No," Oliver interrupts. He slams his coffee mug down and motions to two stools on the opposite side of the island counter from him. After he takes a breath, he continues.
"You two sit down. I'll be the one doing the questioning here."
My instinct is to tell Oliver off for giving
my
boy orders but I doubt that would go over well considering the current situation we've gotten ourselves in.
Without a word, Perry and I take a seat and wait for Oliver to start the inquisition.
Folding his arms over his chest and standing ram rod straight in front of the island, Oliver looks at Perry and questions, "How long has this been going on?"
Perry looks to me and I squeeze his hand under the table.
"Well, technically, there's nothing really going on."
I can tell this is the worst possible thing Perry could have said because Oliver's face transforms from "barely controlled rage" to "three seconds from hitting the fan."
"So, when I called you in the middle of the night last night and heard Gordon's voice telling you to come back to bed, there wasn't anything going on there?" By the end of his sentence, Oliver's voice is reverberating around the room. I think he realizes it because he takes a deep breath while Perry rushes to answer.