Chapter 2

The hostess pointed him toward Tatum’s table with a minute left. Jett locked away thoughts of high school crushes to smile and shake Mr. Steen’s hand as if he had nothing else in the world to think about but Mr. Steen’s financial future.

* * * *

Lunch went great once Jett showed up. For all of Tatum’s warnings, her father was more conservative than Jett had planned for, capitulating on his rational argument before he finished the second beer she’d bitched about. The rest of the meal was spent talking about other investment opportunities Jett could recommend.

Tatum was so glad her reproductive organs never got mentioned, she picked up the check.

“Do I get to find out why you were late?” she asked after they put Mr. Steen in a cab.

“You have a few minutes?”

She blinked. “Is it good news or bad news? Because I’m not sure I have the stomach for bad right now. I want to keep this high that the world is a fair place and people I love get treated the way they should be as long as possible.”

Jett chuckled. “Nothing like that. But I’m curious what your opinion is on something.” Just like she valued his expertise, he trusted her gut reactions. “Come on up.”

Jett worked for a small financial firm on the west side, just him and three other guys, but Tatum was a common fixture amongst his coworkers. Every time they hired someone new, the fresh-faced employee mistook Tatum for his wife before Jett made it clear he was gay and they were only friends. She followed him back to the office, though this time, his knees thanked him for taking the elevator. They had to make a small detour at reception so she could take a look at Miranda’s new engagement ring, but once the niceties were over and they were safely closeted away in his office, he took a deep breath and launched into his story.

“How’s your eighties music trivia?” he asked, settling at his desk. When she started to sit across from him, he waved her around so she could stand at his shoulder and see his monitor.

“Are we talking early or late?”

“Middle; 1986.”

“Meh. I was still in junior high, and my dad didn’t let us get cable so I could get drunk on MTV until I hit high school.”

“What about this song?” His fingers flew over the keyboard as he typed the name of Trev’s single into the search window. He selected the first link that came up and turned the volume up with a quick glance at the office door to ensure it was shut.

The first notes were an odd discord, more noise than music, then segued into a low throb punctuated by what he was pretty sure were actual moans, synthesized through who knew what kind of machine was popular at the time. Before the first lyric came out, Tatum brightened.

“This was that sex song,” she said. “The one about the guy who wanted to eat up his girlfriend.”

“‘Flesh and Kisses’,” Jett clarified. “And I can guarantee you that the guy singing the song is not thinking about any girl.”

Perching on the edge of the desk, Tatum ignored the computer to focus on Jett. To the casual observer, she was the epitome of the zaftig New Ager, long brown hair hanging in a thick braid down her back, clear skin devoid of makeup so that her dark eyes shone through, sandals and long skirts completing the picture even in the dead of winter. But Jett knew the facade for what it was, a clever mask to hide the cutthroat attorney that was her true self. She would’ve been a killer in the corporate market, but instead settled for civil rights cases, with the occasional appearance on the part of Jett’s firm when the need arose.

He liked it better when she turned her laser gaze to strangers and opposing counsel. Much better.

“How do you know that?” Her offhand tone was a ruse. An unnecessary one since he had every intention of sharing.

“I went to high school with the lead singer.” He clicked over to the reunion page for her to read. “His name’s Trev Chambers.”

She scanned it quickly, then shrugged. “You’ve been bitching about these stupid reunion announcements for months. Why did this make you late?”

“Because Trev was sex on a stick in high school. And out of the closet before it became the latest fashion to flaunt it.”

“And repressed football player Jett wanted to ride that stick?”

Thank God she knew all about his history before he’d come out. The fact that she stuck around after learning what a head case he’d been said a lot for her. “Pretty much.”

“And now you don’t know what to do.”

“The last thing I want is to go to this reunion, but…” His voice trailed off, the chorus of the song swelling to fill the silence. When it had come out, he’d played it all the time, driving his girlfriend at the time crazy. She’d threatened to cut off his dick if he dared to punk out like the freaks in the band. The only reason he hadn’t—it seemed like the perfect chance to get rid of her when she made him fairly miserable—was because he was half-convinced she would follow through on her threat.