Page 38 of Hush
Mike smiled, gave him two thumbs-up, and gestured to the door.
“Etta Mae, get some rest.” She was already climbing the couch, ignoring him completely. “I’ll be back later.” She flopped onto the throw pillows with a sigh, her eyes drooping closed. “Don’t go crazy while I’m gone.” A huff, and then she went boneless, already asleep.
Tom rolled his eyes and followed Mike out the front door.
His stomach knotted as they walked, and he eyed Mike with a sidelong stare.Oh.He should have realized— “Is your boyfriend coming tonight?” He’d already figured out that Mike’s boyfriend wasn’t one of the guys from earlier.
Frowning, Mike spun. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“The guy from last night? Who you were meeting?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Tom wanted to shove them right back in, grab them out of the air and swallow them whole. He probably wasn’t Mike’s boyfriend, but that didn’t mean Mike wasn’t late for their scheduled rendezvous. “Right now”, asGrindMecalled it.
“Oh!” Mike laughed.
Shit Shit Shit
“No, that was just Kris.”
“You and Kris are…”
“Friends,” Mike said firmly, fixing him with a look. “Best friends. But friends only. I told him I’d go with him to an art exhibition last night. He was really looking forward to it, and I forgot all about it.” He cringed. “I was a little late. But he had a good time.”
“That’s good.” He didn’t know which part he was talking about: Kris, the art, or Mike not having a boyfriend. God, he was ridiculous.
“I’m sorry I had to leave like that. I felt terrible. I didn’t mean to ditch you. We can try again tonight.” He grinned, that one-sided dimple coming back, carving into his tanned cheek.
And then they were at the Tap Room, and Mike guided him in through throngs of men. A rainbow flag billowed by the door, and globe lights bathed the patio in a warm glow. A gas fireplace shivered in the middle of the patio, flames rising from a copper bowl filled with black sand. Wood and wicker chairs were scattered, men lounging in groups and sipping beers and cocktails.
Inside, high tops and tables crowded the wooden floor, and a line of men hung out at the bar. The din was loud, voices rising and falling, laughter carrying over everything. Dartboards hung on the side wall, and two pool tables clustered together in the back. Tom spotted a younger man flirting wildly as he played against a businessman in a suit with his tie pulled loose. Both were grinning and practically undressing each other with their eyes.
“Over here.” Mike leaned close and steered Tom with one hand on his hip to a table against the wall. Kris, looking stunning, like he’d just stepped off a runway in Milan, batted his eyelashes and pursed his lips, blowing them a kiss. Aaron, Carlos, Jon, and Billy clustered around Kris, all drinking beer. Kris had a pink Martini in his hand. He passed it to Mike as they came close. Mike took a sip and passed it back.
There was only one barstool and Mike gave it to Tom. He perched on the edge as Mike leaned close. “What would you like?” Mike’s breath tickled Tom’s hair.
“What’s good?” He turned into Mike, their cheeks nearly brushing.
Kris watched them, his gaze burning holes in the side of Tom’s face.
“They have good mojitos and their Mexican Martinis knock guys on their asses all the time.”
“I’ll try one of those.”
Grinning, Mike headed for the bar. Tom watched, and spotted one of the bartenders making a beeline for Mike, ignoring five other guys who were there first.
“Disgusting, isn’t it?” Kris rolled his eyes and sipped his cocktail. “I always make him get our drinks. He’s got that masc thing going. The boys go crazy.” Kris folded his arms and leaned forward, bracing on the table. His shirt, silk, puffed open, unbuttoned like he was Prince from the early days. “So, Tom. Tell me about you. You’re a lawyer?”
Everyone was looking at them, now. All of Mike’s friends, turning and listening and watching him. He shifted, straightened. “Uh, yes.” Mike had kept that he was a judge from them. Was that to protect him? Protect his image? Panic bubbled in his belly. Did he need to protect his image? Should he get out of there, right now? “Yes, I’m a prosecutor.” He’d rewind time just a little bit. Just over a year ago. “Assistant United States Attorney. I work in the criminal division.”
“So you prosecute the murderers and the gangbangers and the drug dealers.”
“Yes.” Tom blinked. “Are you a lawyer?”
“No. I work at the State Department.” He sipped his Martini again. “But I keep up-to-date on current politics.” His eyes bored into Tom’s. “How long have you known Mike?”
Shit.“About a year. He was assigned to one of the high-risk cases I was a part of.” Where was Mike? Kris was going to shred him. He was under cross-examination, and his alibi was as flimsy as tissue paper.
“He’s a great guy, isn’t he?”
Something he didn’t have to lie about. Tom smiled, his shoulders unclenching. “He really is.”
