Chapter 2
“All right. Got it. Green tea it is. Thanks, Molly. See you tonight.”
“Bye, Winnie.”
He returned his phone to his pocket. “Lasagna it is. And let’s get a bottle of wine.”
“You said green tea.”
He nodded. “For him, yes. I need a drink.”
* * * *
Win had moved in with his grandmother just a month earlier. Since she had turned eighty, Gran had seemed frailer, and though her doctor said she was fine, Win decided she needed someone to stay with her. Of course, it had been no coincidence he had just broken up with his boyfriend of a year and needed a place to live. She’d been grateful for the company and so far everything had worked out pretty well.
The doorbell to his Gran’s condo buzzed at six minutes after six o’clock that night. Win knew Molly lived in the same condo complex, just a few doors down.
“I’ll get it, Gran.”
Win had decided to dress in jeans and a long sleeved red T-shirt. The shirt was one of his favorites and he thought he looked pretty good in red. Not that he was trying to look good or anything. He was notinterested in Molly’s grandson.
He opened the door and saw a petite elderly woman, somewhere around the same age as Gran, dressed in a bright purple flowered dress. She was alone.
“Hi, Molly. Come in.”
“My grandson’s coming along in a minute. Said he had to add some finishing touches.” She laughed as she stepped inside the condo.
“Gran’s in the kitchen. Can I get you something to drink?”
She eyed the glass of white wine he held. “What are you having?”
“Chardonnay. Would you like some?”
“Yes, please.”
He followed her into the kitchen and she immediately went to Gran. The two started chattering while he took a wineglass out of the cabinet and filled it with wine.
“Here you go,” he said, handing it to her.
“Thanks, Winnie.” And then she continued gossiping with Gran.
He really hoped the two old ladies wouldn’t refer to him as Winniein front of Molly’s grandson.
The doorbell buzzed again and Win went to let Molly’s grandson in.
* * * *
Randy Lincoln checked his appearance in his little pocket mirror one last time. He’d given himself smoky eyes with a little bit of eye shadow and liner, had applied a dusting of fuchsia blush, and smoothed just a touch of clear gloss over his lips. Makeup looked perfect, he decided.
He shoved his little mirror into the back pocket of his skintight jeans when he heard the approach of footsteps. He had no idea what to expect of his grandmother’s friend’s gay grandson, but Randy had never been one to let opportunity pass him by.
Randy hoped moving back to California would be a good thing. Ultimately, anyway. Trying to make it New York, on Broadway, hadn’t worked out the way he’d hoped. He’d gotten a few chorus line roles, but no leads. One of the other dancers had told him he needed to sleep with the directors if he wanted more important roles. He’d tried that and all it got him was a sore ass and a “call you in the morning.” That call had never come.
The door handle turned and Randy held his breath.
“Hi, come on—in.” The guy inside the condo stared at him, his mouth hanging open. “Oh my God, it’s you.” 2
Randy stared at the guy holding the door open and tried to think of who he was. He admitted there was a vague familiarity there, mostly around the mouth.
The guy, the grandson, Randy assumed, was kind of cute in a sort of reserved geek way. He had dark hair, cropped short so that his rather largish ears stuck out, a slightly crooked nose, probably broken one too many times, and full lips that turned up just a bit at the corners. The quirky lips were what seemed familiar to Randy.
But really, he couldn’t exactly place this guy and he didn’t want to be rude and admit that
“It certainly is,” Randy said, putting on his most flirtatious smile. “And it’s you, too. How about letting me in?”
“Oh. Sorry.”
He stood aside to let Randy in, so Randy slipped past him, making sure to rub against him along the way.
“Small world, huh? How long has it been?”
The guy narrowed his eyes—hazel, Randy noticed—and tilted his head to the side. “You don’t actually know who I am, do you?”
Caught, unfortunately.
“Well, I…No. Sorry.”
The guy sighed and shook his head. “My name is Win.”
“Win.”
Win rolled his eyes. “Yeah. About three years ago we met at a bar. You were leaving the next day—”
“And we fucked in the parking lot, and then went to your apartment and fucked again.” Randy nodded, the whole night coming back to him in a rush. It was the night before he’d flown to New York. He’d slipped out of bed in the hours before dawn without waking up the guy, Win, before he left.