Page 3 of Joey's Trick

“Hey, Uncle Bob,” Joey greeted, moving forward to accept the backslapping hug. He embraced his father next. “Hi, Pop.”

His father looked like he’d aged more than the seven years Joey had been away and Joey experienced the same stab of guilt from before. Joey no longer had to raise his head to meet his father’s gaze. They were exactly the same height now and were pretty close to the spitting image of one another. Only his father’s hair had gone completely gray and Joey could see lines around his dad’s eyes and mouth which hadn’t been there the last time he’d seen him.

“You’re looking well, Joseph.”

Another difference between the world and his father, everyone called him Joey except his dad. Joey smiled softly at the familiar baritone of his full name. “Thanks, Pop. So are you.”

“Don’t need to lie to your old man.” His dad scoffed and turned back to the grill.

Joey chuckled. “You’re not an old man, Pop.”

“Make him show you his tattoo, Walter.” Joey heard his mom call from the kitchen window and Joey groaned, covering his face with a hand for a second.

His dad raised a brow at Joey, spatula poised over a burger. “Brave man.”

Joey almost laughed, but it died in his throat when he heard the familiar smooth tenor of the one voice he’d never forgotten, no matter how hard he’d tried. “Hey, Joey.”

Stiffening, Joey swallowed several times and then kept his face blank as he looked at the man who’d shattered him with a few careless words. “Trick.”

Trick still took Joey’s breath away. The years had been generous to Trick and had only made him more handsome. Dark brown hair, as sinful as chocolate melted over heated skin, drifted lazily in the soft breeze blowing through the backyard, making Joey itch to reach out and brush it away from Trick’s sculpted cheekbone. Sapphire blue eyes studied Joey like they could see right through to the heart of who he was and it took every ounce of strength Joey had to not fidget under the watchful gaze. Joey took in the way the white t-shirt Trick wore clung in just the right ways to the carved muscles of Trick’s upper body and how the tight blue jeans, ripped in several places to show tantalizing glimpses of tanned thighs, hugged every inch of Trick’s long legs, straight down to the dark brown hiking boots he wore. Joey wanted to rail at just how good the years had been to Trick. He wanted to shove Trick off the deck and beat the ever-living hell out of him for what he’d put him through. He wantedto throw Trick down onto the ground and latch onto those gorgeous full lips of his and drink from them until they both couldn’t breathe. Fuck, his cock was getting hard just thinking about Trick’s thick muscular body pinned beneath his, their stiff pricks grinding against one another.

Scowling, Joey spun away from Trick and strode over to a cooler nearby where he opened it to grab a beer. He needed a second to cool off and to get his head on straight. What the fuck was wrong with him? How could Trick still affect him after all this time?

“You look good, Joey,” Trick said, having followed him to the cooler.

Joey grunted, wrenched the top off the beer and swigged down several mouthfuls. He didn’t respond. He noticed Trick’s frown.

“Something wrong?” Trick asked.

A bitter laugh welled up in Joey’s throat and he glared at Trick. He knew Trick didn’t know he’d overheard what Trick had said that day, but for Trick to act like they were best friends when Joey knew what Trick thought of him was too much. He couldn’t stop the words from exploding from his lips even if he’d wanted, and he was thankful none of his family were within earshot. “Fuck you, Trick.”

Joey set his beer down on the nearby railing and stomped off, satisfaction roaring through him at Trick’s astonished expression. He made it through the house and out to his car before Trick caught up to him. The trunk popping sounded loud in the silence after the raucous conversations and ear rattling music inside the house. Joey gripped the handle of his duffle bag and the small suitcase he’d brought with him for the week and yanked them out of the trunk. He set the suitcase down on the ground and slung the duffle bag over his shoulder. Trick stood to his left when Joey slammed the trunk closed.

“What was that about, Joey?” Trick demanded, anger and bewilderment clear on his handsome features.

Instead of answering Trick, Joey picked up the suitcase and brushed past Trick. Except Trick didn’t seem to want to let go of the subject because he grabbed hold of Joey’s arm to stop him. Joey growled and almost swung the suitcase at Trick, turning a harsh gaze on Trick for daring to touch him. Rage bubbled through him and the desire to unleash the resentment and fury he’d held all these years on Trick simmered underneath the surface. “Let go of me,” Joey bit out through tightly clenched teeth.

“Not until you tell me what the fuck your problem is.”

Joey gave Trick an incredulous stare. “I would think you’d be happy I don’t want you around me, Trick. After all, you hate fags, don’t you?”

The color in Trick’s face leeched away and Joey thought it would have felt good to see Trick feel some of the pain he’d felt all these years, but all Joey could feel was anger and bitterness. “Yeah, I heard you, Trick. I heard you call me a fag and I heard you tell your friends how pathetic I was. How I was a loser and that I wanted your cock so bad, but you’d never deign to let a “faggot” like me anywhere near your precious dick. So if you think for one second I want anything to do with you,Patrick, you need to get the fuck away from me before I beat the shit out of you. You got me?”

Trick released him and stumbled backward. “Joey, I-”

“I don’t want to hear any lies or excuses. You can go fuck yourself and whatever bimbo you dragged with you to the party,Patrick. Now stay the hell away from me before I forget this is my parents’ twenty-fifth anniversary and I kick your ass.” Joey tagged Trick’s shoulder on his way past Trick into the house. He didn’t care that it really didn’t make him feel better, that all it didwas make his stomach twist farther into knots and caused sour bile to settle into the back of his throat.

He stomped up the stairs to his old bedroom and slammed the door shut behind him before tossing his duffle onto the bed and setting the overnight suitcase down by the dresser. The surge of emotions left him and he suddenly felt drained. Sinking onto the edge of the bed, he covered his face with his hands and took a few deep breaths. God, not even an hour and he already wanted to get back into his car and head home to Orlando. Could he survive an entire week here? Why had he agreed to it in the first place?

2

The sound of his cell phone ringing roused Joey, and he dug it out of his pocket. Without looking at the caller ID, he answered. “Waters.”

“Joey, baby!”

Joey winced and wished he’d checked the phone before he’d answered. “Hey, Vince.”

“Where are you? I went by your place, but you weren’t there.”

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