Page 15 of Bears & Bakeries (Sweet & Stocky #2)
TURNING THE PAGE
February 2014
L ocky’s eyes bulged at the magazine. “Oh, my...”
“Yeah, I don’t hold back in my articles,” said Luca from the other side of the counter. His face was lit by the dappled light of mid-morning. The store wasn’t technically open yet. In fact, none of them would usually be here at this hour. But there was something special about today. And nobody wanted to miss it.
“Did you read page three?” hissed Tris, dropping her ruby glasses to the end of her nose and sipping on a double espresso. “These three screwed on the observation deck of Coit Tower! How? They lock that place up at night!”
A grunt came hidden from a far booth. The only sign of life was a pair of Armani loafers propped on the edge of the table. “Yeah, but the padlock is set to 000. Everyone knows that,” said Kai, popping his head over the seat in the silence that followed. “What? Sometimes I like to treat a date to a scenic view!”
Locky rolled his eyes. “You can’t call what you do dating , Kai.”
“It is very pretty up there at night,” agreed Artair, sitting on the visible side of Kai’s booth and slowly strumming his guitar. He glanced to his husband with a grin that was somehow all sweetness and all filth at the same time. “I wrote a song about it a few years back. Climbing the Tower . You remember, babe?”
Luca’s voice suddenly went all growly. “How could I forget? An amazing build and a really deep beat. Like it could last all night.”
“And that climax!” sniggered Artair. “Gosh, I wish I was playing it right now.”
Locky blushed at the thought, arousing and scary and exciting—resolving to ask Benedict if he wanted to take a trip out there one night and see it for themselves. “Okay, but why did they tell you all of this? Aren’t they embarrassed about it?”
“Why would they be embarrassed?” said Luca, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Are people without houses not allowed to feel horny? To feel desired? To want to experience pleasure? Should they deny themselves affection, and be ashamed of sharing their stories, just because people like you find it uncomfortable? I never took you for a sexual elitist, Locky. For shame.”
Locky’s mouth gaped. “I’m... not going to win this conversation, am I?”
“No. But it’s always cute watching you try.”
Locky flicked back and forth through the story. “I still can’t believe I hired an award-winning sex columnist as a barista...”
“ And a number one artist as your house musician.”
“Whoa,” said Artair, a shy look on his bearded face. “It was just the Independent Artist charts. It wasn’t one of the big ones, with like, Lady Gaga.”
“Babe, you’ve sold three million records and headlined festivals on four continents. I’m not sure you can pretend to be some unknown artist anymore.”
“I mean, I am still technically unknown! Given I wear a mask on stage.”
The banter was interrupted by the tinkle of the bell above the main door. Evelyn, the CEO of the Abruzzo Charitable Trust, walked in wearing a bright blue cloak with a half dozen buttons for various causes pinned on the chest. “There’s quite the crowd out there. Lovely people. All very excited to see him again.” She looked around the room. “Where is he hiding?”
Kai grabbed his knees theatrically. “Close the door, you old hag! You’re letting the cold in!”
“He’s out back,” said Locky. “I’ll go grab him. Evie, if you can bring everyone in. Artair, upbeat classy, please. Luca, whatever they want is on the house.”
* * *
Benedict stared at his warped reflection in the oven door, adjusting his crisp navy tie. He knew the speech on his palm cards, he’d practiced it enough times after all, most recently a dozen times into this solitary steel audience. But somehow it just didn’t feel... enough . Somehow if felt like he was going backward.
In many ways he’d had the perfect start to the year. He’d taken on two clients so far, Evelyn first, and now a young gaming nerd with dreams of creating a mobile van for board games, coming around to parties and hosting table-top games for people who didn’t know the rules. And in both cases, the darkest parts of his panic had stayed away. For the first time in forever, Benedict felt like the worst of it might finally be behind him.
That had definitely been helped by the roaring success of the bakery over these last two months, not just getting a good and loyal customer base during the evenings but also having plenty of lucrative business bookings for companies wanting to host fun and inclusive events that wouldn’t rack up a bar bill. It had been especially inspiring how Locky had signed the long-term lease just last week, extending the lifespan of Pie Me to the Moon for the next three years.
Benedict had expected sleepless nights and tortured talks over that. And Locky had experienced a little of that—passing and brief—before finally putting ink to paper.
Because in so many ways, Locky had reckoned with his fears. With his past. Those worries might still be there—they might always be there—but he’d found ways of dealing with them. Of proving that he was stronger than them.
And now, it was Benedict’s turn.
His home office still contained his shelf of folders, all his former clients, closed off and complete, exactly as they were on the day they’d opened their stores. Each one was a little tombstone to his past, never allowed to change.
But things had changed. Over these last ten years, some of those stores would have thrived. Others would have limped by in mediocre success. And some... well, some wouldn’t have made it.
As much as that thought made Benedict’s pulse pound, it was reality—the world moving and choices mattering. And he’d never be able to move forward properly until he accepted that reality. Until he made things right with his past clients. Until he owned the past that had plagued him for so long.
And that’s what this event was—the first meeting of a monthly get-together with his past clients. The meeting that had seemed like such a good idea a few months back. And now, in just a few minutes, he’d be face to face with all those people he’d abandoned. All the people he’d disappointed. All the people he’d?—
The cold through his veins warmed as Locky joined him in the kitchen, wrapping strong arms around him, holding him close. “Ready, Mr. Owens?”
Some part of Benedict wanted to say no. To cancel the whole thing. To put it off for another month or another year or another decade.
But a bigger part of him, newer and stronger than he gave it credit for, managed to nod.
“This is a good idea, Benedict,” said Locky, kissing his shoulder blades. “I’m sure they’ll learn so much from each other. This is a great thing you’re doing. A brave thing you’re doing.”
In his heart, Benedict knew that was true. He’d walked through fire already on this journey, and he’d survived. He’d fought through terror, and he’d survived. And on the other side of both, he’d found this man, this place, this life .
And he liked this life.
He loved this life.
Benedict turned around in Locky’s embrace, kissing him close, holding him like he never wanted to let go.
Somewhere between those kisses, Locky reached up, at first holding Benedict’s face, then running fingers against his tie, undoing the knot and allowing the silk to fall from his collar. “That’s how you should wear it with your clients,” Locky whispered. “Like you’ve finished for the night. Like everyone can just relax.”
In the distance came the chime of the doorbell. Then the rise in noise and voices beyond the threshold.
His former clients were here.
The meeting was now.
“Will you be there with me?” Benedict asked, knowing the answer but needing to hear it. Because he needed a little of his boyfriend’s strength right now.
Locky took his hand, fingers safe and strong. His harbor in the storm. His anchor against the crashing waves. “Always, Mr. Owens.”