Page 4
"So that's the Boy, huh?"
Remington is sitting across from me at the bar. We're sitting at Jared's Local, a hole in the wall bar halfway between both our works. It's Thursday evening and a rare night where Austin is out with Luke, another Little from the club. Remington texted this morning to see if I was free, which I was. I haven't been to the club, or anywhere, in six weeks. My mind has been recreating every moment, from the drive to my house to making Orion breakfast the next morning. He said that the club was a one-time thing for him, so I knew I wouldn't see him there. I honestly wasn't sure if I'd see him again ever. I was hoping he'd use my number in the weeks since, but that's been dry.
"He is," I say. I do my best to keep from smiling. I fail miserably. Remington notices and laughs into his glass. "Shut up."
"I didn't say anything," he says, still smiling. He sets his glass down slowly and leans back in the seat. I watch him, eyes narrowed. There's something he's wanting to say. I know him too well.
"Get it out," I say. "Let me have it."
"No, nothing." He holds his hands up. "I just haven't seen you like this, attached to someone you barely know."
"I'm not attached," I defend. "He's just different."
"Think you'll go see him again?"
I want to say no, that I would respect his words that he isn't into the whole dynamic. But fuck, if I can just see him for a few minutes a couple times a week? Maybe I could convince him to go on a date at least. I love being a Daddy, but I can negotiate. Being thirty-eight, I'm not getting any younger.
"Your silence is deafening," Remington says. I ball up the napkin on my side of the table and throw it at him. He laughs harder.
"You're only laughing because you already have a Boy of your own," I say pointedly. "I remember when you were on this end of the conversation more than once."
"Yeah, but that's in the past. We are talking about you now." He pops the last chicken wing in his mouth. I watch him chew, thinking about his question some more. "If he is… into the scene, that's not exactly your style, is it?"
His question is totally innocent and curious, not judging. We've had this talk before, not about me in particular, but about preferences. I try to keep my voice joking when I speak next. "Someone had to leave their Boy with me at the camp and I maybe have been thinking about it."
"Really?" The inflection in his tone and Remington cocking his head once again gives me the clear indication he doesn’t believe me.
"Yeah. I mean, maybe. I wouldn't be opposed to it." I adjust in my seat, knowing that Remington is the best to answer my questions about this. I glance around the space, noting that the music playing from speakers around the bar are masking our conversation. "I don't know what it was when we went to the camp. I know I've been part of your hangouts and I've seen how you and the others interact with your own Boys. I haven't spent a whole weekend with it, you know? Seeing the dynamic for an extended time like that, taking care of their every need, seeing how cute they are when they get sleepy or need to use the bathroom… I couldn't help but feel a bit jealous. The Boys I'm with aren't as needy, if that makes sense? Not that I'm calling Austin, or any of them needy. I just—"
"You want to feel needed more?" Remington nods. "I get that. It's an addicting feeling coming home and immediately being the arms they fall into, the one that takes their problems away."
The exact words I struggled for.
The Boys I've been with before relied on me to give them rewards and punishments. They were mostly independent, too. We would cook together and go on dates, but there was never that level of complete trust and letting go. Seeing the way Austin regressed so young and how his whole demeanor changed the second he saw Remington; I've never been looked at like that before.
"Well, damn." Remington tips his drink toward me and then finishes it off. "That's great, Garrett. And I think Orion wouldn't have walked into that room if he wasn't at least a bit curious. Maybe take it slow, though."
"I can take it slow," I argue. Remington scoffs at my defiance.
"You tend to go overboard with the whole spoil them thing."
"I don't." I'm being petulant, like my niece who got caught doing something she shouldn't. We both laugh, knowing my argument is weak.
"On a serious note," Remington says and looks right at me. "I think you need to talk to him. If anything, maybe you can find some things in common."
We buy another round of drinks and then split an order of onion rings before calling it a night. Remington is already on the phone with Austin, who is waiting for him at home, by the time we pay our tabs and head out into the cold air. The holidays have come and gone, but the weather is still brutal. The forecast is showing snow next week and the weather is definitely reflecting that right now.
The drive to my house is uneventful. Riley is waiting for me at the door, like always, when I get home. The taps of his nails as he prances on his feet makes me smile. He's such a good boy. I walk through the house to the back door and let him out into the yard to play. The neighborhood is great, picked mostly for the demographics of the neighbors. It isn't an HOA, because I refuse to buy a house where someone else gets to dictate what I can and can't do, but most of the people on this street are over sixty. It makes for a quiet place, which I enjoy after a day of work.
I've put up a fence around my property, tall enough that anyone who wanted to snoop would need a ladder. None of the houses have a balcony on the backside. Not on this street at least. I watch Riley run around for a few minutes and do his business before calling him in. I have a dog walker that comes by once a day and feeds him on the days when I won't be home until later, but he's always a good boy and doesn't mess in the house.
Riley trots off somewhere in the house while I grab a cup and down a glass of water. I think about Orion for the hundredth time. Remington had it right when he said that I'm not usually like this. I don't get attached, or constantly think about someone that I only know their name. Nights like this, I think about how big this house is for just one person. The living room has high ceilings and a fancy, but generic painting, mounted above the fireplace mantle. I'm six foot-two and the mantle is up to my shoulders. There are four bedrooms, a furnished basement, and two full bathrooms, both with separate tubs and showers. Then the en suite, which isn't as big as the others, but still more than spacious enough for myself and a guest. The kitchen is modern, with all the gadgets because I'm not the best at cooking. I definitely get good use out of the air fryer and eat a lot of salads. Most nights, I'm picking something up on the way home or meeting friends to go out, like tonight.
When I decide that it's time to get ready for bed, I head up the stairs to find Riley laying at the foot of the bed of the guest bedroom. He's gone in there each night in the last six weeks. Sometimes, he stays there all night. Others, I'll wake up in the morning to find he's made his way to my bed.
He thumps his tail against the bed twice, like he's silently asking if the mystery person who cuddled with him all night would be coming back. An idea forms in my mind and I walk closer to scratch behind his ears.
"What do you say we get some coffee tomorrow?" I ask. There's no reaction to that, because none of those words are in his vocabulary. "Want to go for a walk tomorrow?"
Riley barks once, sitting up on the bed and wagging his tail furiously now. His bulky head butts against my palm, demanding more pets. I laugh at how spirited he is and how much he loves going for walks. Walks mean meeting new people and he's such a people type of dog.
"We'll go tomorrow evening, okay?" I have meetings tomorrow morning. I plan my meetings for Fridays because it allows me to get updates for the week and I can usually dip out after a half day. It's another thing Remington and I have in common when it comes to work and why we get along so well. Our work ethics are pretty much the same. I don't care when my employees leave, as long as they get their work done. We're gearing up for the tax season now, starting in February, so I'm taking advantage of any free time I can take right now. Being an accountant is great, until you're trying to plan anything in February, March, or April.
I shower and slip back into a pair of briefs before crawling into the bed for the night.
Ten minutes later, Riley jumps on the bed and curls up beside my feet. I smile when I hear his heavy sigh. It must be a hard life being a spoiled pup with no job.
The alarm goes off too soon the next morning. I put my feet on the floor and stretch my body out, grunting when my back pops twice. Riley hops off the bed and trots to the door, then pauses and turns to look at me, waiting. It's the same thing every morning. It takes me back to memories of my childhood when my mom would stand by my door and make sure I actually got out of bed.
Riley makes a playful growling noise and jumps on his front paws, his way of saying I'm taking way too long and he wants breakfast. I roll my eyes, but stand up. Riley only gets more playful, a mix of trotting and tapping his feet to the floor impatiently, but always looking back at me to make sure I'm still there.
"Let me use the bathroom first, okay?" I walk into the bathroom and only glance at the mirror before doing my business. I turn my head side to side as I wash my hands, checking my beard for any gray hairs. My dad's beard started turning gray by the time he hit thirty-five, but so far I've been lucky. My head is bald, so I don't have to worry about that, thankfully. I started losing my hair, also thanks to my dad's genetics, in my late twenties and decided to just shave it all off. The bald look suits me, so I've been told. It's been ten years and I can't imagine growing it back out now. I finish my morning routine by brushing my teeth before Riley's had enough and starts barking from downstairs.
I head downstairs and let Riley out to do his own business while I prepare his breakfast. He's a Pit Bull and Boxer mix so Riley is ninety percent muscle and he has a special diet food to keep his joints and weight healthy. Breakfast is always a treat for him, with a mix of raw and kibble, but dinner is typically just the kibble.
"Eat up, bud." I start talking to Riley as I work around the kitchen to gather my own breakfast. Overnight oats in the fridge and fried eggs with toast. "I'll be back home early today and we'll go for a walk." We'll have to drive back into the city, because I'm not walking the fifteen miles to the coffee shop, but I have a parking pass for one of the garages around the area. Once we're both done with our breakfast, I head back upstairs to get ready for work.
My closet is filled with suits and dress shirts. Owning an accounting business that deals with a lot of other businesses and has a branch that helps individuals file their taxes means I'm meeting with other CEOs and important business people and have to look the part. I decide on the navy suit with the white button up and matching navy tie. I've spent a pretty buck on each of the suits, getting them tailored to my measurements. I admire myself in the full length mirror for a minute before heading downstairs and putting on the black dress shoes I keep by the front door. I have a pair of brown and another pair of tan for different suits. Plus my tennis shoes and the slides I usually wear during the summer.
"I'll be back soon, Ri. Be a good boy." I kiss the top of Riley's head before grabbing my briefcase and keys.
The sky is gray, threatening some type of precipitation within the next few hours by the look of it. I turn the heat up and click over to my music app to play something that will wake me up. I don't consider myself a morning person, per se, but I can get up and go when needed. It doesn't hurt to have a little music to pass the drive, though.