Page 17 of Not That Guy

Brenner

It wasn’t until we were in the car, on the way to the high school, that Manny started questioning me.

“So what’s with that guy?”

Of course I knew whom he meant, but I feigned ignorance. “What guy? There were more than thirty people in there.”

“The one who almost knocked into you and said something about old times.”

“Weston. I told you about him at lunch, remember?”

“Yeah, but he’s deliberately baiting you.” Manny’s brows drew together. “I thought you didn’t know him well, but he acts like you do.”

If knowing him well meant touching his dick and watching him come all over my hand—then, yeah. We were fucking besties.

“We never liked each other. He’s one of those silver-spoon kids—you know, rich family, prep schools. The attitude grated on me. Plus, we were always rivals for first in class, Law Review .” Thinking back, it all seemed so silly, especially now that we were working for the same firm.

“Ah. I get it now. And he would come out on top?”

“Put it this way: Weston Lively doesn’t like to lose.”

Manny’s smile flashed big and bright. “Then he’s gonna be real mad when we beat the pants off him.”

“Yeah,” I responded, sounding weak as hell.

All I could think of was Weston’s pants around his ankles. The burn of his hot, throbbing dick in my hand. Lips on mine, demanding and hard. Fuck . Why did this keep happening? As if I could push the memory out of my head, I rubbed my face.

“You okay?” Manny peered at me.

“Yeah. I’m good. Maybe when we go to the bar to get our item, we can grab something to eat.”

“Sounds like a plan. I wouldn’t mind a quick beer.”

Once we left the corporate park where the hotel was located, the car took us through a pretty town. We were headed to the high school to try and find a football T-shirt, which we assumed would be sold in the school itself. But when we arrived and tried to open the door, we discovered it was locked.

“Damn.” Annoyed that our plan was stymied, I scanned the grounds and spotted the football team practicing on the field and pointed. “Look. They must have a spare shirt, and if not, maybe we can pay them to give us one of their extras.”

“Good idea,” Manny agreed. “Like a donation to the team. Schools are always looking for money.”

We jogged across the grass to the field. At our entrance, one of the coaches ran to us. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, we were wondering if you have any spare team shirts you can give us.”

“For?”

“A corporate scavenger hunt.” I decided to throw out my idea whether they asked us or not. “We’re happy to make a donation to the team fund.”

He lifted a shoulder. “Don’t see why not. Any size?”

“Doesn’t matter.” I extracted two twenties from my wallet and handed them to him. “Is this okay?”

“Sure thing. Hang on a sec. I have an extra in my bag.” He left us, and we watched him rummage in his bag and pull one out.

Shirt in hand, the coach returned. “Here ya go.”

Manny took it and handed the coach some more bills. “Add that to our contribution.”

“Thanks.” He pocketed the money, returned to his players, and we trudged through the grass to the front of the school and the street.

“I wonder what the other teams have to get,” Manny said.

“Hopefully it won’t be easy for them.” At my surprised face, he grinned.

“Johnny says I’m too competitive.” He shrugged.

“But you know how it goes. Being gay and Hispanic puts me behind the eight ball. I have to work twice as hard to even get noticed.”

It shamed me that I hadn’t really given it much thought. Manny just seemed like a nice, fun man. I hadn’t considered his struggles. “Has it been hard at the firm?”

“No. One of the reasons I was eager to join was the diversity in the makeup of attorneys.” He pulled out his phone and punched in the address for the bar, which was, according to the app, almost ten miles away.

A grunt escaped him. “It’s not like the city here for sure.

The car won’t be here for at least ten minutes. ”

We sat on the steps of the school, a warm breeze playing across our faces. Listening to the birds singing and the rustle of leaves on the trees, I realized I rarely took the time to sit and enjoy the quiet surrounding me.

“Maybe that’s a good thing. I can’t remember the last time I simply sat and did nothing.”

Beside me, Manny stared straight out. “We’re kinda always in a rush, huh? Guess it’s the way we live—crowds and competition forcing us to be a step ahead.”

“You grew up in the city?”

“Yeah. Sunset Park. My old man washed dishes in a Mexican restaurant, and my mother was a school lunch lady.” His smile held a combination of pride and sadness.

“First in my family to graduate from high school. When I got into Pace, my mami cried and showed everyone in the neighborhood my acceptance letter.”

“What did she do when you graduated law school?”

“She was in line at five in the morning to make sure she got a prime seat to see me walk across the stage.” Deep brown eyes met mine.

“The owner of the restaurant my father worked at closed it down and threw me a party. He said I was the future.” Tears sparkled on his lashes.

“I came out to my parents that night, and for a month my father didn’t talk to me.

When I’d enter the room, he’d walk out.”

I’d heard similar stories from some of my clients, but it never failed to upset me. “And now?” Almost afraid to ask, I had to know.

“It took a while. Thankfully, he never called me names or anything like that. He’s old-school and doesn’t get it, but he’s trying.

When Johnny and I decided to get married, we just had a small ceremony, and they came.

My mami , she’s been cool all along. Loves Johnny and tells everyone her son-in-law is a doctor.

” He chuckled. “Brags to all her girlfriends how good Johnny is to her—and he is. Brings her flowers, and she’s taught him to cook some of my favorite foods.

My father and Johnny bonded over sports.

Johnny’ll watch anything—soccer, football, baseball…

if there are men running around on a court or a field, he’s there.

They go to the games and leave me at home. ”

The car pulled up, and I squeezed his shoulder. “I’m glad.”

On the drive, Manny got a call, and his face lit up. “It’s Johnny. Excuse me. Mi corazon . How are you?”

Shutting out Manny’s conversation with his husband, I checked my phone to find it depressingly empty.

I sent Bill a message to say hi. I thought about the text Weston had received from his father and how much animosity there was behind the words.

Despite myself, I googled the senator to see what else I could find.

Senator Preston Lively was without a doubt a good-looking man, but there was a cruel tilt to his lips and no hint of kindness in his icy gaze.

Recalling how Bill would take me to the park on the weekends to play ball, or how every Sunday night was pizza and a movie, I doubted Weston had that kind of relationship with his father. I read on.

Weston’s father’s family had been in politics for decades.

Was his father angry at Weston for not following his path?

Could that be the reason for their estrangement?

I scrolled farther and found a gossip piece, more than twenty years old, which insinuated that the then-councilman Lively had been seen in the company of other women.

I couldn’t find another article. Someone with Preston Lively’s power and position could easily have a story like that buried.

Infidelity was a more likely culprit than Weston failing to enter politics and would explain the ugly vitriol between them.

“Whatcha looking at? Must be pretty intense.” Manny cocked a brow.

No way would I reveal I’d been digging into Weston’s past. “Nah, just reading the headlines. Nothing good.” I huffed out a laugh.

“Well, forget it.” Their phones buzzed in unison. “That’s Boris. He said the theater is closed, so they can’t get the playbill.” His lips twitched, and a cackle burst from him. “They ended up searching the dumpster to find one. Remind me not to shake his hand.”

Laughing, I bumped Manny’s fist. “You got it.”

Traffic held us up, so it was close to five by the time we walked inside the bar. After Manny ordered himself a beer and me a Tito’s and soda, we took a seat in a booth. I scanned the sticky plastic menu. “I wouldn’t mind a snack.”

“Johnny’s always lecturing me on eating healthy, so I want to get my junk-food fix while I can.

” There weren’t many customers yet—a couple of older men sitting in a corner, eating burgers, and a bunch of twentysomethings at the bar, drinking drafts and doing shots.

I winced, remembering how out of control the guys in the frat house would get at that combination.

One of the guys caught me staring, and I quickly looked away, but not before I saw him elbowing his friends.

The bartender came over to us. “You want food?”

Charming personality he was not, but I was hungry. Behind him, several of the guys at the bar whispered and snickered.

Oblivious, Manny scanned the menu. “Should we do the appy platter?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Thanks. That’s it, I think.” Manny returned the laminated card to its holder.

“Okay. It’ll be about ten minutes.”

“No problem.” Keeping an eye on the guys at the bar, I sipped my drink.

“You seem distracted. Don’t let those jerks bug you.”

Surprised, I set my glass on the coaster. “You saw them?”

Resignation deepened Manny’s eyes to a rich, dark brown. “I’m used to it. In a place like this, where I’m not sure if I’ll be safe, I always check out my surroundings.”

“Jesus,” I muttered. “I’m sorry. It shouldn’t be that way.” I wondered if this was how it was for Bailey too. He was such a good guy—like Manny.

“Maybe one day it won’t. I try and be optimistic.”

Our food came, and it was decent pub fare. As he ate, Manny’s mood lightened. “So tell me more about you, aside from the fact that you’re not married, not looking, and don’t like Weston Lively.” His white teeth flashed bright in his handsome face.

I licked my fingers free of the sticky wing sauce and wiped them on the napkin. For a moment, I watched him eat. He’d chosen to be vulnerable with me, so I decided it was only fair I did the same.

“I grew up in foster care. From what I was told, there was a drug raid at our house, and my mother ran out with her boyfriend, leaving me behind. I was asleep in a playpen. They took me to ACS, and when I was given a medical exam, they found remnants of weed and some other drugs in my system. Maybe I’d gotten into whatever was passed around in the house. Who knows?”

As I spoke, Manny stopped eating the wing he’d picked up, his eyes never leaving my face. There was more to tell him, but I couldn’t. The words stuck in my throat, their ugliness coating my insides with the pain I’d grown up with.

“And look what you made of yourself. You ended up with good foster parents, I hope?”

A smile tugged at my lips. “It took a few tries, but yeah. My mom died first year of law school, but my dad, Bill, is in Florida now. They were the best. Never let me think I wasn’t good enough because of where I came from.

They told me I could do whatever I wanted and encouraged me to work hard and to not pay attention to kids who made fun of me because I didn’t have ‘real parents.’”

“Kids can be cruel. And I’m sure your dad is very proud of you. Look how far you’ve come.”

We resumed eating and finished off the food, leaving nothing but bones and crumbs behind.

I remembered why we were there and stuck one of the coasters into my pocket.

A quick check of my phone showed me that the rest of our team had completed their tasks and were returning to home base.

“Now that we have the things off our list, I guess we should be getting back. We do want to win. Everyone else is ready.”

“Hey, Brenner?” I met Manny’s eyes and saw the sympathy in them but no pity.

Still, it was like a fist squeezing my heart to give away the pieces of myself.

“Thanks for sharing that part of your life. I know it’s not easy.

When I was in law school, I volunteered at several youth shelters, and I know how kids get caught up in the foster-care system. You’re a success story.”

“I think we both are.”

Manny’s hand covered mine and squeezed. Hard. We stayed that way for several moments, and then I raised my hand to the bartender. “Can we get the check, please?”

He brought it to us, and I set my credit card on the tray. “I’ll pay the tip in cash.”

“I’ll get your receipt.” The unsmiling man walked away.

Manny reached for his wallet, but I waved him off. “It’s not a big deal. Buy me a couple of drinks at the bar tonight, and we’ll call it even.”

“All right, then. I’ll call for the car.”

I signed the receipt, put the cash down, and we left.

The sun had yet to set, but the heat of the day had vanished.

The leaves of the old oak trees arching over the streets would soon turn orange and crimson with the coming autumn, and I could picture the bright-orange pumpkins at each door and storefront.

This town was so pretty, like a storybook.

“Well, look who we got here. A coupla queers.”

I stiffened, but Manny leaned in. “Ignore them. They’ll go away if we don’t respond. The car’ll be here in two minutes.”

“What’s that, sweetheart?” One of the punks strode to him. “You talkin’ to me?” Jaw flexing, Manny stared straight ahead. The guy wasn’t satisfied and knocked Manny’s shoulder. “Answer me.”

For the first time fear slammed through me.

I couldn’t believe this was actually happening, out in the open.

The four men, all bigger and taller than I recalled, surrounded us.

Why the hell I’d thought I could reason with them, I had no idea, but I guess I’d hoped that if they talked longer, there’d be less of a chance they’d get physical, so I said, “Look, we’re attorneys here for a weekend business retreat.

We’re not here to make trouble. We just want to leave. ”

Beer breath assailed my nostrils as one of the Neanderthals stuck his face into mine. “Lawyers? I don’t like lawyers. Especially queer ones.” He shoved me into one of the huge old trees lining the sidewalk. My head hit the trunk. It hurt, and I grunted in pain.

“Please, stop—”

“Shut up. You think you’re better than us?” Another hard thrust, and my head snapped back hard, sending a white-hot bolt of pain through me. Stars danced in front of my eyes. The others were pushing Manny around as well. Where the fuck was the car?

A fist to my stomach left me gasping for air. Another to my head sent me to my knees. A kick to the ribs had me crying out in pain. They kept kicking me. And then blackness.