As I Am Page 15

  “I know. We’re working on that, though, right? You’re a guy I want to get to know, and who I want in my life, sex or no sex.”

  Will did know all that, but it helped every time Taz said it out loud. It helped silence the dark, doubtful voice that didn’t believe he was worth more than his mouth or ass. It helped him believe someone as wonderful as Taz liked him for himself, full stop.

  “So give me a chance to seduce you,” Taz said. Soft. Tentative.

  He had no power to deny Taz anything in that moment. “Okay.”

  “Good answer.”

  As they settled back into the cushions to kiss awhile longer, Will relaxed and let go, gave himself over to Taz’s very capable hands. And mouth.

  And it was perfect.

  Chapter Ten

  Taz didn’t listen to the voice mail from Peter until Sunday morning, after he’d showered and drunk a can of cola. He’d been too exhausted to bother last night—and too happy, flying on endorphins from making out with Will and then jerking off to the memory of it before hitting the sheets. Nothing had broken that wonderful spell.

  Until the reality of a new day brought back all his lingering questions.

  As expected, the voice mail was pretty vague. Not that Taz had expected a confession, since both of his messages had basically been begging Peter to call him so they could talk.

  I know this was a big shock, and I know you have to be anxious with me so far away, and I’m sorry things shook out like this. I’ll call you again in the morning so we can talk, okay, buddy? Take care.

  The same ever-patient tone he’d heard from Peter since day one.

  Taz’s finger hovered over the call button. Three-hour time difference in California, and it was only nine thirty Taz’s time. No, he’d wait and let Peter call him, like he said he would. So Taz flipped through morning shows on TV and let his favorite parts from last night drift through his mind.

  A little after ten, Will texted him. I loved everything about last night. Thank you.

  He grinned at his screen, all kinds of warm feelings settling over him. I loved it all, too. And because texting made him bolder than he otherwise might be, he added, Want to come over for dinner tonight?

  Definitely. Want me to bring subs?

  No. I’ll do the food. You bring yourself. Five okay?

  Sounds great. Can’t wait.

  Taz didn’t really want to wait another six-plus hours to see Will, but he wanted to do this seduction thing right. Will deserved that and more. See you then, hot stuff.

  LOL.

  The apartment wasn’t messy anymore, thanks to Will’s militant need to tidy the place and keep the sink free of dirty dishes, so Taz didn’t have to spend a lot of time dusting. He even ran the vacuum around the living room. For the first time, he cursed his lack of a dinette set of any kind. Eating on the floor around the coffee table wasn’t all that romantic, and he wasn’t about to take a cab to the store.

  He stared around the living room, a strange despair washing over him as he truly understood how isolated he was from other people. Two days ago, he’d have called Peter and asked him to bring a card table and two folding chairs, if he didn’t mind. Now Peter was in California, and Taz didn’t know anyone else. Only his doctors. None of his neighbors. He didn’t have any friends other than Will, for Christ’s sake.

  Could I be more pathetic?

  Not a single person to call for help. No one who could assist him in making this dinner extra special.

  He got online and brought up a map of his neighborhood, the kind that showed landmarks and various businesses in relation to his address. As he looked around, one location in particular made him stop and stare. All Saints House. All Saints Thrift Store. His apartment was about twelve blocks away. A walkable distance, but they also might not have anything useful, and how was he going to carry a table and chairs that far?

  So he did the sensible thing and called.

  “All Saints Thrift Shop,” a rusty male voice said.

  “Hi, um, I was calling to see if you, ah, had any small dining sets for sale?” Taz said, feeling kind of stupid for stumbling over his words. But he wasn’t used to cold-calling businesses. Not for a long time.

  “Matching sets?”

  “I suppose, but mixed pieces are okay as long as they look good.” For some reason, the honesty bug caught hold of Taz, and he started rambling. “See, I’m kind of scared to go outside, and I know it sounds stupid, but I’m having someone really special over for dinner, and I don’t even have a table to eat at, so I was hoping you had something inexpensive I could buy.”

  The man chuckled. “Sounds like you’re in a right pickle. Name’s Raymond Burke. I’m one of the owners.”

  “Hi. Thomas Zachary, but everyone calls me Taz.”

  “Well, Mr. Taz, I may have something that’ll work for you. You mentioned you’re scared to go outside, so I have to ask how you’d be picking up any furniture.”

  Taz’s heart flipped. “I hadn’t actually thought that far ahead.” His brain spun for something he could use in his favor. “You know Jonas, right? From the shelter across the street? I was at the fund-raiser last night. Um, well, I kind of hid in the greenroom, but my boyfriend helped set up the fund-raiser.”

  He hadn’t called Will his boyfriend to anyone else before, but the title felt right falling off his tongue.

  Raymond laughed again. “I know Jonas, for sure. He’s my nephew. He’s a good kid, doing some good work for others.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Tell you what, young man. Give me your cell phone number. I’ll text you over some pictures of what I’ve got, and if anything suits you, I’ll deliver it myself. My wife is at the shop today, and she’ll be glad to be rid of me for an hour.”

  Taz stared at the wall, stunned by the man’s offer. “That’s extremely generous of you, Mr. Burke. I hate to impose.”

  “Bah, any friend of Jonas’s is a friend of the family.”

  He didn’t correct Raymond’s assumption that he was a friend of Jonas. He’d never even spoken to the other man. After giving Raymond his number, he said, “I really appreciate this, sir. You have no idea.”

  “Glad to do it.”

  Taz marveled at the truly generous nature of some people while he waited for the pictures. Three different tables, the smallest of which seemed to be about three feet wide, circular, and a pretty oak color. Two chairs that looked pretty similar were cheap enough, and they had blue upholstered seats in good shape.

  He called back and told Raymond which ones he wanted, then paid with his debit card. Raymond took his address and promised to be over within half an hour with the furniture. Taz nearly warned Raymond about his face, but Will’s voice stopped him. Will’s voice that insisted the scars weren’t as awful as he imagined, and that they weren’t always the first thing a person saw when they met him.

  Time to test that theory.

  Twenty minutes later, Peter still hadn’t called, and someone knocked on his apartment door. Taz’s stomach twisted up tight, and he stared at the white wood, unable to move toward it. The last time a stranger knocked, it was a cop telling him his father had a criminal record. But this wasn’t a cop. This was a nice-sounding man with furniture that he’d so generously offered to deliver on a Sunday.

  It took a second hard knock for Taz to lurch forward, insides shaking. He turned the locks, then the knob. A man with lightly graying hair and a bright smile stood outside with one of the chairs in his hands.

  He smiled, meeting Taz’s eyes. “Mr. Zachary, I presume?”

  “Yes, hello.” Taz stepped aside so Raymond could bring the chair inside the apartment. “You have no idea how much I appreciate this, sir. Do you need help with the table?”

  “I’d appreciate a hand, yes, with those stairs you�
��ve got.”

  Taz grabbed the Blue Rocks cap and put it on out of habit. Raymond didn’t seem to notice. Keys in hand, Taz locked the apartment behind him and followed Raymond downstairs. A big van was double-parked with flashers on. Raymond unlocked the back doors. The table was even prettier in person than Taz expected, shiny and a rich golden color.

  Love at first sight.

  “It’s perfect,” Taz said.

  “It’s a nice piece, for sure. Maple, so it’s good and sturdy.”

  The table was heavier than Taz had expected, and they were both panting by the time they’d lugged it to his apartment.

  “I’ll fetch that last chair for you,” Raymond said.

  “No, sir, I’ll do it.” Taz didn’t even think about the offer. “That is if you, uh, trust me with your van keys.”

  Raymond chuckled, and Taz was starting to like that sound. It was soothing and friendly, and the man still hadn’t seemed to notice anything odd about Taz’s face. “You’d be doing me a favor stealing that old thing, son. I expect it’s a bigger deal for you, though, to leave a stranger in your home.”

  He hadn’t even thought about it like that. No one had been inside his apartment without Taz present, not since he moved in. Any time maintenance or the fire inspectors came by, he was home. “I, uh...”

  “It’s all right. It was a nice offer, but I’ll go get the chair.”

  Raymond left before Taz could protest. Inviting Raymond into his apartment had been a huge step for Taz; leaving him alone was too much, too soon. He got himself a cold root beer to cool himself down. When Raymond returned, Taz offered him something to drink.

  “A small gulp of water would do me good,” Raymond replied. “I appreciate it.”

  “Of course.” Taz poured a small cup from the filtered pitcher in the fridge, then brought it out to his guest.

  “Thank you.” Raymond sipped at the water, observing the apartment as he drank. “Any thoughts on where to put the table? You seem a tad cramped.”

  “Right where we’re standing, I guess.” The open area between the door and the back of the couch was about six or seven feet. If he moved the couch a little closer to the window, they’d have plenty of room to maneuver. “I can shove it against the wall over there when I’m not using it. Helps that it’s small.”

  “It also has a drop-leaf feature.”

  “A what?”

  Taz had noticed that the tabletop, instead of being perfectly smooth, had two long parallel lines on either side of the pedestal base. He’d assumed it was how the table was designed. Then Raymond dropped to one knee, moved something under the table, and one of the curved sides fell down flat to its side. The other side worked the same way, which turned it into a much narrower table.

  “It’ll fit against the wall easier this way,” Raymond said.

  “That’s...wow.” Even better than Taz imagined. “Thank you so much.”

  “You are very welcome, young man. I hope your date tonight is suitably impressed.”

  “Me too.” Taz held out a ten-dollar bill. “I know I paid, but I gotta tip you. You really didn’t have to deliver this.”

  “Every once in a while, it pays to go out of your way to be kind to someone else. You keep your money and pay it forward, you hear?”

  “I will.” He tucked the money away. “Thank you again.”

  “You take care, Mr. Zachary.”

  He shook Raymond’s hand, then locked up after he left. Then he stood there, heart pounding, head swimming with anxiety and gratitude and confusion. Not once in the entire fifteen-minute exchange had Raymond stared. Or asked questions. Or given any indication that Taz’s face was the nightmare he saw in the mirror, staring back at him.

  Maybe it’s not so bad. Maybe I don’t have to hide.

  Table and chairs for dinner? Check.

  Now he needed to figure out food.

  Naturally, his phone chose that moment to ring. Peter. Instead of relieved that his dad was finally calling back, Taz felt an unexpected pang of irritation that Peter was interrupting his date planning. “Hey, Dad.”

  “Taz? It’s good to hear your voice. How are you?”

  “I’m doing pretty good, actually, considering everything.”

  “Your messages yesterday sounded strange. Is something going on?” Peter made a noise. “Besides the obvious of me being three thousand miles away for work?”

  “That was part of why I wanted to talk to you.”

  “I know, and I’m so sorry I had to leave last minute like I did. I wish I’d had more time to prepare you. Get extra groceries, or set you up with a friend who could help you.”

  Taz’s irritation grew sharper. Peter didn’t have to baby him anymore. “It’s fine. I’ve got Will. Having him around keeps me centered, you know? And he’s already volunteered to help with stuff, if I’m having trouble managing it.”

  “Your friend with his own anxiety issues?”

  “We’re working things out together. It helps having someone around who understands what it’s like.”

  Peter stayed silent for a long moment. “I’m sorry.”

  “Being with Will has been really good for me. I even went out last night.”

  “Went out?”

  Taz proudly described his evening at Altitude to Peter, leaving out the sexier bits that happened later in his apartment. “This was a huge step for me, Dad. Huge.”

  “I know it was. I’m proud of you.”

  Except somehow Peter didn’t sound proud. Taz couldn’t name the emotion, but it wasn’t pride. “I’m proud of me, too.” He kept the story of his dining set to himself. Something inside him was pretty sure Peter wouldn’t be proud of that, either, and that bothered Taz immensely. Peter should want Taz to get better, to start exploring the world again. To stop relying on Peter so much.

  Right?

  “So was this why you wanted to talk to me?” Peter asked. “To tell me about your night out?”

  “No.” Taz hadn’t made that choice until after leaving those messages. But he also didn’t want to tell Peter about the detective anymore. “I wanted to ask you something.”

  “Ask away.”

  His stomach twisted up tight. “Have you ever been arrested?”

  “Who told you I have?”

  Why are you answering a question with a question? At least he hadn’t outright denied it. That would have hurt, since Taz knew the truth. “Please, just answer my question.”

  “You have to understand, son, I’m not the same man I was back then,” Peter said. “I was young, and I made some very stupid mistakes. I paid for those mistakes, too. Eight years is a long time to spend in prison, with the worst kinds of people, always looking over your shoulder.” He let out a deep breath that whistled over the phone. “I promised myself I’d never go back.”

  Taz had seen enough prison shows and movies to get it without asking why. He hated thinking about his dad in one of those places, especially going in when he was Taz’s age. It had to change a person.

  “I’m not the same man I was back then.”

  “I promised myself I’d never go back.”

  Then why was a narcotics detective asking about Peter? Morrell had to be stirring shit up. Or reaching for leads, maybe hoping Peter still knew people in the business. Taz needed that to be true. He needed his father in his life, not in prison.

  “Do you believe me?” Peter asked.

  “I believe you. Why didn’t you ever tell me before?”

  “As I said, I’m not that guy anymore. I didn’t want my past to stain our relationship. I never wanted you to see me as a criminal.”

  “I don’t, I promise.” The past was the past, and his dad was his dad. Full stop.

  “Are you going to tell me how you found out about my r
ecord?”

  Taz really didn’t want to. He hated the timing of Peter’s departure and the detective’s appearance, and he couldn’t stand it if the whole thing was more than a terrible coincidence. But in the end, he didn’t want to lie, either. A version of the truth wasn’t technically a lie. Right?

  “I got curious and searched online about you,” Taz said. True enough. “It came up in some old articles.”

  “I see. I can honestly say that I wish you’d never found that.”

  “It doesn’t change anything, Dad. It’s your past, okay?” More than anything, Taz needed to know their relationship hadn’t changed. He was a burden to Peter, and he owned that. He also wasn’t sure he could survive right now without Peter. Peter had been strong when Taz couldn’t be, and Taz was still finding his own strength again.

  He still needed his father in his life.

  “You’re right, it doesn’t change anything,” Peter finally said. “You simply know one of my dirty little secrets. Case closed.”

  Except Morrell. Tell him!

  “Case closed.” Taz reached for a topic switch. “So how’s California?”

  “Sunny. Hot.” Peter described the long-term-stay hotel he’d moved into, as well as the general area. It made Taz want to visit the West Coast, simply to see the palm trees and the Pacific Ocean.

  They chatted awhile longer, until Taz realized it was inching close to one o’clock and he still hadn’t figured out dinner. He only had four hours left to make this all perfect. “Dad, I have to go, okay? Will’s coming over in a while for dinner.”

  “Of course. Tell him I said hello, all right?”

  “I will. ‘Bye.”

  “See you later, son.”

  Taz got right back onto his computer—never in his life had been so grateful for the internet—so he could search for nice area restaurants that also delivered. There weren’t many other than Chinese or pizza joints, so he settled on pasta dishes. Italian food was romantic, right?