Page 18 of The Guy in the Alley

I couldn’t help it. That put me on edge. “Is that gonna be a problem?”

“What the fuck? No.” He scowled at me. “Why would it be a problem?”

Maybe because it was a problem for too many people.

“I don’t know.” I faced forward again and started eating faster. I was tired, evidently cranky as shit, and I wanted to get some sleep before I had to return downstairs.

I didn’t know why I was curious about Ben. I never was. Not to this degree anyway. I mean, sure, I wanted to know if they could be trusted to roam inside my home, but I didn’t need someone’s life story for that. I was more interested in if they had drug problems or if they came off as hostile.

Ben sighed. “That’s why I got divorced. I was sick of hidin’ in the closet.”

He was sick of fucking what?

I whipped my head around so fast it could’ve fallen off.

This six-foot-four Grabowski was gay?

Okay, that…that… I hadn’t seen that coming.

And maybe he hadn’t seen it coming with me either, so…we were square, I guessed.

“Huh,” was my clever response.

Goddammit.

I went back to pretending to watch the TV—some old game running—and my mind started spinning. Nothing had changed, and yet everything had. I cursed the situation and how we’d met, ’cause if this had been Grindr, I would’ve been fucked six ways to Sunday by him already, and we would’ve moved on with our lives. Except for the fact that I never brought guys back to my place. It was his place or a bar.

Hookup apps were easy. I needed a five-minute conversation, and then I’d get my shit greased one way or another.

Great, now my ears were ringing too. The air felt awkward and stiff, and I didn’t know how to act. I kinda wanted him to be straight, for the simple reason that he was ridiculously sexy, but we’d gotten off on the wrong foot for a fuck. I’d had two boyfriends in my life, and that was enough. I wasn’t interested in another, and I already knew too much about Ben.

All while not knowing nearly enough.

And that right there was the point. If I wanted to know more about a person, shit had gone too far already. I never wanted to know more about someone.

I blamed my dry spell. I’d been so focused on the bar and work and…whatever else, that I hadn’t gotten laid since…shit, since my sister had moved back to the city last fall. How fucking sad. Who needed HIV prevention when you didn’t bend over for someone? Not me.

Tomorrow, I’d either go to one of my apps, or I’d stop taking that damn pill for a while.

Furthermore, I couldn’t make a move on a guy who had bigger worries, like finding a place to live or whatever situation he had going on with his son and the rest of his family. Hooking up was probably the last thing on his mind.

No. New plan. We’d get some rest, and if he was asleep later, I wasn’t gonna wake him up. He needed downtime. I’d go back to work. Maybe I’d even have a couple drinks and enjoy the Hawks game from behind the bar. I could shoot the shit with a few regulars; Jamaal was on too. Perhaps we’d crank up the music a bit later on, and…and on the off chance that Ben came down, I’d subtly point out our White Sox roasts around the bar. For instance, we had the donation box with socks in it…? It was obviously called the Sox Box. We had the Life Sox burger too, for those who wanted lettuce and only four hundred calories in a meal.

* * *

All right, this was better.

I pushed open the door to the bar with epic timing, just when Jamaal started blasting our game-day playlist. It was our biggest motivator for guests to order more beers with their dinner. The place was packed, energy surged, and people were ready for the game.

“Oh! Sleepin’ beauty!” Jerry was still here…

“Go home to your wife, man,” I told him.

He waved me off. “She don’t want me at home when there’s a game.”

Uh-huh.

I grabbed a short apron from under the counter and tied it around my hips. Then I snatched up a Hawks ball cap too, and I put it on backward, ready to get back to work.

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