Fifteen Shades of Gay (For Pay) (13 page)

“I love you, Daddy,” Marie whispered. Andrew’s eyes stung as Jake bent to embrace his daughter, her bald head covered by a warm knit cap. Hugh hugged her, too, muttering vague encouragement. Then he managed to steer the visibly exhausted Jake out of the room, saying they’d go to their hotel for the night and return the next morning.

Andrew slept on a folding cot provided by the head nurse. He fell asleep in his clothes—that was best, since nurses and technicians entered the room hourly—but awakened around six am as the hallway chatter between nurses, residents and attendings became too loud to ignore. While Marie had her vital signs taken and chose the breakfast she wouldn’t be able to keep down, Andrew showered in her fluorescent lit, yellow-tiled bathroom. Hair still wet—there was no blow dryer—he unzipped Marie’s emergency bag, which contained his essentials as well as hers. Inside were fresh shorts, jeans, and a T-shirt, plus his toothpaste and toothbrush. Only his socks would be required to pull double-duty.

Jake and Hugh reappeared around ten o’clock, visiting with Marie until noon. Hugh brought flowers from the gift shop; Jake offered a paperback called
Cancer Proof: A Survivor’s Guide to Positive Thinking
. Marie accepted both with good grace. Dark circles lurked beneath each eye. She hadn’t slept well, not with a medical intruder almost every hour. But she pretended a bouquet of Gerbera daisies and a book of clichés were the most wonderful gifts in the world.

Marie insisted Jake and Hugh go on their planned excursion the Museum of Natural History rather than sit around, probably for hours, while Marie awaited her oncologist’s input. As soon as they left, Andrew ventured down to the food court. At Starbucks he bought a hazelnut latte and a slice of gingerbread, eating the icing first and thanking God for Huey Wasserman. The last time Andrew spent the night at Sloan-Kettering, even the vending machines had been too pricey for him.

The caffeine was just beginning to kick in as Andrew re-entered Marie’s room. Hearing a male voice, he thought a nurse or one of the resident doctors was with her. Instead, he entered to find Cormac sitting at Marie’s bedside.

“Andy! Look who came to visit,” Marie called.

Cormac turned, giving Andrew a wide smile. His hair was newly shorn, red tie standing out against his immaculate white shirt and gray pinstripe suit. “I had to come. I heard a rumor,” he turned back to Marie, “that this woman is a registered voter.”

“Yes. And as soon as I’m well, I’m moving to California,” Marie said. “What do you stand for?”

“What do you want me to stand for?” Cormac asked in a perfectly hookerish tone.

Marie’s laugh, the sort of flirtatious
tee-hee
for which Andrew would have once teased her mercilessly, made him grin. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed that way. Seeing her gaze on Cormac with such naked female adoration felt good.

As Andrew finished his gingerbread and latte, Cormac chatted with Marie as if he’d known her for years. When he brought up books, she asked if he was familiar with the “mommy porn” trilogy she so enjoyed.

“Off the record? Yes, I’ve heard all about it. On the record, someone asked the President that question, and he pretended to have no clue. That’s me. As a politician, I’m completely innocent.”

“Andrew’s reading it aloud to me. At first I thought he might blush at the dirty stuff, but no. He laughs at the phrasing. Probably thinks he could write something better.”

“Is that so?” Cormac looked at Andrew.

“She’s damning me with faint praise.” Andrew folded his arms across his chest and lifted his chin. “But yeah, if I set my mind to it, I could write something a whole lot edgier,” he said, meeting Cormac’s gaze and holding it.

“There’s always the question of genuine experience versus fantasy,” Cormac said.

“Well. Then. I’ll enlist some help to get the naughty parts right.” Andrew was so busy soaking in Cormac’s mute response—the gleam in those pale eyes—he almost forgot Marie was listening. One glance at her face told him she hadn’t forgotten his confession about the kiss.

“Sorry.” Cormac’s mobile rang. Withdrawing it from his inner jacket pocket, he frowned at the screen. “It’s my assistant. I’ll take it in the hall.”

“Oh, my God,” Marie whispered as Andrew took the bedside chair Cormac had vacated. “Did you really kiss him?”

“Marie…”

“Because Andy, you’re my brother and I love you, but I’d kick you down a flight of stairs for that man. Is he straight and curious, or is he gay?”

“Gay.”

“I should have known. He’s perfect. Utterly perfect.” Marie heaved a theatric sigh. “And he came all this way to see you. Must have kissed him like you meant it, little brother.”

Andrew glanced at the open door way, then whispered, “We didn’t just kiss.”

“I figured that out,” Marie stage-whispered back. “Right about the time he said he flew across the country to say hi. How’d you meet him?”

“Work,” Andrew said helplessly, realizing he’d need to resume his secret manuscript. The stress of keeping so much to himself would be otherwise impossible to bear. “I don’t know what’s happening between me and Cormac. Please don’t tell Dad and Hugh.”

She looked shocked. “I may have chemo brain, but I’m not a total moron. I’d never spill anything about your sex life to them. Anymore than I’d tell them about mine, back when I had one.”

“Sorry,” Cormac said again, tucking his phone back into his jacket as he reentered. “Minor fire to put out. What did I miss?”

“Nothing much,” Marie replied, silencing Andrew with a gesture. “Did you know Andy slept here last night? He always does that when I’m admitted. That’s why he looks so tired. Living on Starbucks doesn’t help. I hate to ask, but Cormac, would you help me force Andy to eat a real lunch? Not in the hospital cafeteria. Somewhere with a drink menu.”

“You do realize I’m pre-programmed not to disappoint a registered voter?” Cormac smiled at Andrew. “Even if she doesn’t yet reside in my state.”

Andrew took a deep breath. He was eager for real food, and Cormac’s company was nothing to sneeze at. But leaving Marie felt wrong.

“Dr. Czarnecki will be here soon. Shouldn’t I wait until she gives us her interpretation of the seizure and the MRI?”

“You have a phone. I’ll call you.” Marie smiled. “Go. Eat lunch. Tell Cormac how wonderful Dad’s visit has been so far. Seriously, Andy. Go.”

* * *

“I like Marie,” Cormac said.

Andrew led the other man around a corner, down a long corridor decorated with inspirational quotes and posters of cancer survivors. “She used to have trouble making friends. She was the tough one. I was the popular one, until middle school. Then she kicked butt until I was accepted again.”

“I like tough,” Cormac said.

“Sometimes I’m afraid she’s not tough enough.” The words were out before Andrew could stop them, but he kept walking, moving forward as if he hadn’t said something that bordered on unforgiveable. “I feel like an asshole for even thinking that, but there it is. Do you think everything happens for a reason? That none of us get a burden bigger than we can handle?”

“No. To both questions,” Cormac said. “Watch the news for a week. Kids under seven snatched, raped, and buried alive. Drive-by shootings that kill honor students. Tsunamis that take out entire villages. I can’t imagine any bigger burden than a child tortured and killed by an adult. Or a good reason for hundreds of people to drown in minutes. The idea that everything happens for a reason comes from people who’ve been lucky all their lives.”

“But I like both ideas,” Andrew said, stopping before the door he’d sought. “I like them, because they give me hope. Marie’s a good person. If anyone deserves a long, happy life, it’s her.”

Cormac said nothing.

“I want someone to tell me she’ll be okay. When all is said and done, she’ll be okay.”

“I can’t say that.” Gently, Cormac touched Andrew’s forearm, that soft politician’s tap he’d perfected. “But when all is said and done, you’ll be okay, Andrew. Whatever happens, you’ll deal with it. I promise.”

“I shouldn’t care about me,” Andrew said. His voice almost broke.

“I care about you. And you’ll be okay,” Cormac repeated. “I promise.”

Andrew’s heart thudded in his throat. Cormac was warm, handsome, genuine. And there was something Andrew needed more than lunch, even at a restaurant with a drink menu. “Go inside.”

“What?”

“The bathroom. Behind you. Go inside.”

Cormac opened the door. The bathroom was a one-seater, extra wide to permit wheelchair access. No sooner had Cormac crossed the threshold than Andrew pushed him the rest of the way, locking the door behind them.

“You said you liked going down on me.” Raising himself on his toes, Andrew kissed Cormac on the mouth, sliding his tongue over the other man’s. “Now it’s your turn.”

Chapter 8

Andrew didn’t know what he intended, other than to completely forget himself, Marie, and this latest round of medical testing by concentrating on Cormac. The bathroom, painted a garish yellow, smelled strongly of antiseptic, but Andrew doubted Cormac even registered his surroundings. He was kissing Andrew fervently, holding him too tight, pressing their bodies together like he’d forgotten they still had their clothes on.

“Hey.
Hey
,” Andrew said, jerking away. “How fast do you want this to go?”

Cormac winced. “Sorry. I’m pretty keyed up.”

“No kidding. But take my advice. Torture yourself a little,” Andrew said. “Do it and you’ll go off like a warhead when we’re through. Now put your arms around me.” He eased back into Cormac’s embrace. “That feels good.” Lifting a finger, Andrew traced the strong line of Cormac’s jaw, then the shape of his lips. Cormac’s mouth was wide, top lip thin, bottom lip full. It was highly expressive, capable of going from hard and implacable to soft and hungry, but it wasn’t feminine; nothing about Cormac was. Drinking in those manly features, Andrew let both hands explore, tracing Cormac’s cheekbones, his sideburns, his short brown hair. Cormac was gorgeous. Lifting himself on his toes, Andrew planted a slow, wet kiss on that exquisitely masculine mouth.

Cormac made a soft sound. “I—I have to know. What are we doing?” His choked tone suggested he was undergoing actual torture.

“Making out.” Andrew loosened Cormac’s tie.

“I mean, you said you were straight. I’ve heard that straight guys cross over sometimes, just for a little while….”

Andrew tried not to think of Paresh’s final thrust deep inside him or the shattering orgasm it had triggered. “Well, if I’m straight, I guess I’m making an exception for you. Game for it?”

“Yeah.” Cormac took a breath. Cupping Andrew’s cheeks, he gazed on him for so long, Andrew’s pulse sped up. Under Cormac’s stare he felt absurdly exposed—more exposed, in fact, than when he’d been nude for Paresh with legs spread wide.

“You are perfect.” Cormac spoke each word slowly, as if articulating something he’d sworn never to reveal. “Sometimes you lick your upper lip before you speak. Did you know that? I first noticed in the Irish bar. Makes me crazy.”

“Really? Then lick it for me.” Covering Cormac’s hand with his own, Andrew kissed the other man’s palm. “Slowly.”

What Cormac lacked in experience, he made up for in the ability to take direction. For a long time they crushed their mouths together, pulling away panting, only to come together again. The feel of Cormac, bigger and stronger, holding him close made Andrew hot all over; the other man’s scent, the smell of soap, and Cormac himself, kept Andrew stiff. He was afraid of what came next, of what he’d promised to do, the act that would send Cormac into orbit. At the same time Andrew was desperate to crash through that barrier, to experience the same rush of erotic terror he’d suffered when Paresh slid inside him.

“Undo your belt,” Andrew ordered, sinking to his knees.

Cormac did so clumsily, as if his fingers had amnesia. Andrew unzipped the other man’s trousers, almost laughing as Cormac sprang out, every bit as large as Andrew remembered. The head, velvet-soft and very warm, brushed Andrew’s lips. Fear forgotten, Andrew impulsively kissed it. Cormac groaned.

“When you’re past the halfway point, tell me. Don’t come,” Andrew warned.

“I’ll try….”

“I’m not kidding. Once you feel it on the horizon, tell me.” Sliding his fingers around the base, Andrew started with his tongue, stroking Cormac the same way he liked to be stroked. Cormac’s breath hitched, lower half rocking along with each swipe of the tongue. That didn’t surprise Andrew. He’d foreseen exactly how the other man would respond. It was his own response that amazed him, the shameful pleasure of the shaft between his teeth, the head rubbing against the roof of his mouth. Cormac was so thick at the base, hard suction was a challenge, but Andrew was too aroused to content himself with mere licks and kisses. To let it slide all the way back without gagging, Andrew had to angle his head and breathe shallowly. By the third time, Cormac muttered, “I’m getting close….”

Andrew drew back. The other man’s member was spit-shined and harder than ever.

“I told you. A little torture makes the end even better,” Andrew said. He didn’t just mean Cormac. His jeans felt like a tourniquet. Rising, he took Cormac’s face in both hands, pulling it close. “There’s one thing you have to know. I like your dick in my mouth.”