Page 4 of Rushed

Keenan

New day, new girl. Today marks one hundred and three days. I’ve been feeling a bit despondent lately, moping around the hotel. I need a new outlet.

I’d been taking on my new adventures with a fervor. I’d hit the Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty, and even scrounged up enough for a ticket to the Met. I was loving everything I tried, but I was coming up short on funds after buying a couple new pieces for my closet. So, after I found out that the hotel offered a few free activities, I joined the Run Club; a young guy named Troy runs it in his off-time. Did I run in my past life? I wasn’t sure, but I was enjoying every minute of it; it burned in all the right places. I sweat in areas that definitely take away sexy. It’s only a few times a week, but it feels fantastic.

Troy is a nice guy; bloody gorgeous, and freakin’ funny. He’s not someone I’d date, though. He’s sexy as all heck with his deep dimples, broad shoulders, and tight barreled chest that thins down to a tight waist. His only flaw, however, is that he’s the wrong batter. Why are all the good men gay? No wonder I’m single, if this is what happens with our choice of men. How would any woman find love in this city when the most fabulous souls are taken?

He’s been sweet, making sure I don’t get too far into a funk. Running helps, and he’s become a sounding board when I just need an ear. Tonight, I’m going out to dinner with him and some of his friends at this club out on the west side, and even though I was told it’s not fancy, he informed me not to wear workout wear. I don’t have many choices as I don’t own a dress, so I think it’ll just be a pair of jeans and a sweater I bought last week at the secondhand store. Hopefully, I won’t be too underdressed.

After a few hours of primping, I felt respectable enough to enjoy new company. Taking two subways and walking for what felt like forever—I thought for sure I was going the wrong way—I arrive at the Gooseneck. There’s no line, but through the windows, I can see that it’s filled to capacity. The greeter takes in my terrible attempt at looking presentable with a fake grin, then ushers me through. I haven’t even left the podium when I hear my name called out.

“Keenan, darling. Back here!” Looking to the far side of the restaurant, I see Troy and his entourage awaiting me with the most gleeful look in their eyes. Well, all but one. His expression says he’d rather skewer me to a pike in the middle of Times Square.

Maneuvering my way around the restaurant, I pass through the throng of bustling tables. I slink past patrons that give me the stink-eye for intruding into their personal space, and honestly, I think I deserve it as I bump either a chair or an arm unintentionally. I wave shyly, bow my head and smile as I say ‘pardon me’ over and over again.

Approaching the half-moon booth, Troy rises from the table with a smile that outshines the sun. “Hey, sweetness.” He’s truly adorable, and his aura is infectious. With a double kiss to my cheeks, he takes my jacket from my hands, sets it aside, and motions for me to sit.

“Ready to get your funk on?”

“Yeah…sure.” I nod and look around at the faces that stare back at me, like I’m some sort of an anomaly. Well, I guess I am, as there are six of them and I’m the only girl in the group.

“Well, let me introduce the boys. Ty, move the hell over,” Troy says as he flourishes his hands in the air to shoo his friend around the circled bench.

“This is Ty. He’s a bundle of joy as you can well imagine. This is Charlie and Jim.” Both of them raise their hands in a tiny wave and smile back. Ty only scowls. “This is Jackson, my beau, and Tig. He’s straight but taken, so don’t even try.” I greet each of them and skooch into the tiny space allotted beside the indignant Ty.

“Remind me again why she’s joining us?” Ty snaps at Troy.

“Because she’s in need. And like Cher from Clueless, we take on the homeless, poorly dressed, and less fortunate. Just like we did with you, Ty,” Jim pipes in.

A few of the guys laugh, poking fun at poor Ty’s unfortunate, grouchy demeanor. I’m not sure how to take the banter, but I feel a bit uncomfortable. Troy was sweet to invite me out, but I’ll leave if my company offends anyone.

“Look, I’m not saying she’snotwelcome.” Ty turns to me and forces himself to smile. “I apologize if my conduct has not been satisfactory. I’m just foul today.” In his own way he’s trying—albeit, horribly—to apologize for his rudeness.

I decide to save him the pain of trying harder. “I accept your apology, and I hope we can have a nice night.” I pull my hand from my lap and offer it for a shake. “Truce?”

He shrugs, avoiding my attempt at civility. Reaching for his frilly, girlie drink, he slurps back a large amount through the tiny straw. He’s obviously decided I’m not worth his time.Fine. Deciding to ignore him for now, I turn my attention elsewhere.

Tig, who sits directly across from me, reaches across the table and gives my hand a squeeze. “Don’t mind the queens. Sometimes they get out of hand. Trust me, in an hour you’ll feel right at home with us.”

“Thank you…I think. This is new to me too,” I say loudly. I want Ty to know he’s not the only one uncomfortable here.

“You’ll do just fine. My wife, Tessa, normally joins us too, but she just had our first child. This is a weekly meeting of the minds, but she figured a week away wouldn’t hurt. Plus, these boys are a tight-knit group, so once you’re in, you’re in.” Tig is cute as hell. He’s older, maybe mid-thirties, but dressed like Humphrey Bogart. His hair is short and slicked back, like a perfect 1940s hairstyle. His facial hair is perfectly trimmed, and a single diamond stud in his ear completes the package. I figure Tessa’s a lucky lady. I find him very adorable.

“So, what’ll it be? A cosmo?” Troy asks. Quickly the others chime in with suggestions.

“A gin martini?”

“A glass of beer to belch over,” Ty mutters under his breath. It’s just loud enough for me to hear, but I ignore his brashness.

Considering what I want, I speak up before they offer any further, unusual options. “I haven’t tried much. Well, at least nothing other than the minibar pistol bottles, and those are mainly vodka or whiskey.” Tig hands me the drink menu, grinning wide. As I remind myself not to stare at his fairly gorgeous face, I think about all my choices. This is a daunting task.

“How about a shot? A sex on the beach would be nice right about now,” Jim chirps, dripping innuendos. He’s prodded with an elbow to the ribs from the man beside him, who I believe is Charlie. He and Jim must be an item because they have that look, the one that shows years of taunting and torture.

Flipping through the massive list, I swear my eyes bug out. “Shit, it’s huge,” I say. Snickering comes from the group around the table, reminding me of my present company, and as the blush rises in my face, I try to cover my previous comment with something less…well, just less. “Filled with names of things I’ve never even heard of.”

“We could name some of those, darlin’. Don’t you worry,” Jim giggles. A whole new shade of red has been created as I try to hide within the drink folder. Thankfully, the waiter appears, saving me from even more embarrassment. He turns to me after asking the others for their choices, and as I’m already flustered, I pick a drink by taste: Orange juice, rose water, dry vermouth, cranberry, and a splash of raspberry vodka.

“I’ll have the sexy fiend, please.” The choice gains me a whole new level of raucous laughter from my companions. The waiter writes it down and walks off into the bar, leaving me to shrink under the table. I think I’ll need more liquor than the bar can supply to make it through this evening mentally unscathed.

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