Page 18 of Dear Mr. Brody

“Thanks…” he said, his smile almost reaching his eyes. “I think I needed to hear it from someone other than Ethan. I can be biased when it comes to my mom.”

“I have older siblings who would say the same thing about me. I’m the baby of the family, and I let my mom get away with murder.”

He chuckled. “I’m glad you can empathize.”

“Kris said you wanted to see me before I left?”

“Yes, I apologize. I got sidetracked for a moment… I was curious what you thought about Serrano’s manuscript. I think it might be too gritty.”

“I agree, I had Kris set up an appointment with him for tomorrow, I’ll see if he’s willing to tone down some of the language and sex.”

“Sounds good.”

“Was that it?” I asked and he nodded.

“Yeah…” He scanned the mess on his desk. “And maybe I needed someone to throw me a rope.”

“Glad to be of service.”

I was only about fifteen minutes behind by the time I left the office, and I was almost to my exit on the interstate when my phone vibrated in the center console. Figuring it was Lanie asking how much longer I’d be, I ignored it until I was parked out front of the studio. I swiped my thumb across the screen ready to text her to let her know I’d arrived and to bring Anne out, when I noticed the notification from the Pegasus app. After I’d created my account the other night, I’d gotten a few messages, mostly from guys looking for more than what I was ready for. My hope for the app being a successful way to meet men died when I’d gotten a dick pic this morning. Was that what was expected? If so, I was screwed. There was no way I was okay with sending random guys pictures of my genitalia. I planned to ignore the current message, not wanting to be traumatized yet again, but the guy’s username caught my eye. I couldn’t be sure, but I hoped it was a reference to one of my favorite books. The same book I’d referenced in my username. I clicked open the message and was relieved there wasn’t a picture waiting for me.

@TheL0stB0y: Like the handle, you into Aster?

Excitement flooded my pulse, warming my stomach as I stared down at the screen. Pen Aster’s retelling ofPeter Panhad been iconic when I was in middle school. It was the first book I’d ever read with gay characters, and it had made all the questions I had about my sexuality seem less isolating. As much as I’d liked girls, I’d wanted to be Pan and fall in love with a lost boy too.

Several replies went through my head. Should I text something about the book? Something flirty? Or would that be considered too forward? I mean, I wasn’t about to send a dick pic. Maybe a simple yes would suffice.Fuck.Why was I making this more difficult than it needed to be. Trying not to overthink, I chose to follow his lead.

@MeAndMyShadow33: Who isn’t?

I pressed send and switched out of the app, sending Lanie a quick text. Not even a minute later, he sent another message.

@TheL0stB0y: Most straight guys? And radicalized conservatives.

A laugh snuck past my lips; curious, I clicked on his profile. He was from Atlanta, too, and like me, hadn’t given his name. I liked the idea of being able to walk away without anyone knowing who I was in case it didn’t go like I’d wanted it to. Maybe he felt the same way. His interests were very simple and to the point.Into books and bottoms. I definitely loved books but was utterly clueless about what I wanted or liked when it came to sex with men. Top or bottom, I wouldn’t be able to be casual about fucking someone. As much as I wanted to explore, I also had to trust the person in order to be vulnerable like that. My mind spinning with possibilities, I flipped to his profile photo. He’d only uploaded one picture, an obligatory ab shot. I had to say his six-pack was as intimidating as it was sexy. His muscles were etched to perfection, a deep V cut along his hips and disappeared below the waistline of his low-riding pants. I pinned my bottom lip between my teeth and zoomed in to get a better look, my throat dry as I stared at the dark smattering of trimmed hair, peeking out just above his buckle.

The car door opened, and I practically threw my phone into the center console, grateful when the screen had gone black. No reason my ten-year-old daughter needed to see her father drooling over a half-naked stranger.

“Daddy!” Anne hopped into the back seat. “I was waiting forever.”

“Sorry, little monster. I got stuck at work.” I lowered the passenger side window and Lanie leaned down, resting her elbows on the frame. “Hey, traffic was—”

“It’s fine. Jules started the class for me. I should head in, though.” She turned and smiled at Anne as she buckled in. “Bye, baby, see you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Mom.”

Lanie walked away with another small wave as I backed out of the parking spot. “Want to go to Sal’s for dinner?”

“Yeah!”

A smile stretched across my face, and for the first time in six months, it didn’t hurt to drive away.

“One more, Dad.” Anne yawned as I leaned over and kissed her on her forehead. Her eyes heavy with sleep, she blinked up at me as I stood. “Tell me the story about the toad and the chicken. That one is the best.”

“How about I save that one for this weekend? It’s late.”

“No, it’s not,” she protested as she fought to keep her eyes open.

“It’s time for bed, Anne.” She didn’t argue, her eyes slowly closing. “Love you, sweet girl.”

---