Love Wins Anthology

Chapter 5

Chapter 5Adam had to admit that, for a moment, being wanted felt damned good. An offer of total commitment with no reservations? It was a boost to his battered ego. But it just wasn’t from the right man.

He pried his hands away from Reggie’s. He didn’t want the man’s touch. He didn’t want the man’s offer. “Look, I came here to drink—to excess. I promise I’ll take a cab home. Now, please, leave me alone.”

A flash of anger crossed Reggie’s normally controlled face. At least Adam thought so—his vision was getting blurry. But when Reggie spoke, there was only friendly helpfulness in his voice. “Okay. But if you’re here to drink, then drink. Those sissy margaritas aren’t going to get the job done.” He raised his hand to signal Rhonda.

A minute later, she came to their booth. “Can I get you something, Reg?”

“Yes, bring us some tequila shots. A half dozen.”

Rhonda glanced at Adam, then back to Reggie. “Are you sure? The boss is gonna want to cut him off.”

“It’ll be all right. I take complete responsibility for Adam.”

She nodded and left.

Adam would have preferred another margarita. But it didn’t seem worth arguing about.

A few minutes later, Rhonda returned with a tray loaded with six full shot glasses, a dish of lime slices, and a salt shaker. “Here you go. I hope you know what you’re doing, Reg.”

Reggie just smiled at her, and she left. He set a shot in front of Adam and one in front of himself. “Lick your hand like this.” He demonstrated. “Or better yet, let me lick you.”

Adam folded his arms, putting his hands out of reach.

Laughing, Reggie continued. “Sprinkle salt on your hand, and hold the lime. Lick the salt, down the shot, bite the lime. Simple.” Reggie did one shot and raised his eyebrows as if expecting Adam to follow his example.

Well, why not? Adam had never done shots before—he really wasn’t much of a drinker. But if there ever was a day for it…

He followed the procedure and nearly choked when the liquor went down his throat. Damn, his esophagus was on fire! He felt a lime slice being held to his lips, and he bit into it, hoping for relief. It wasn’t any help.

He pushed away Reggie’s hand and gasped for air. Coughing, he managed to ask, “People really enjoy doing that?”

“The first one’s always the hardest. It gets easier.” Reggie slid another shot across the table. “Trust me.”

Adam picked up the shot glass and eyed it dubiously. He could still feel the burn in his stomach, only it was easing into a deep warmth. Maybe just one more.

A little while later, Adam wasn’t feeling much of anything. Except a need for the bathroom. He tried to stand, tangled his feet, and nearly fell to the floor.

Reggie grabbed him and propped him up until Adam could stand on his own. Mostly.

Adam could feel the rock-solid steadiness in Reggie’s arms. Shouldn’t the man be a little tipsy, too? There had been six shots, right? And Reggie had done the first one. Had the rest of them ended up on Adam’s side of the table? His brain was almost too foggy to grasp what that meant—but not quite. Reggie was trying to get him drunk. Not that he needed the help, thank you very much. But still, that couldn’t be a good thing.

Apparently, while Adam was trying to puzzle things out, Reggie had been holding him up. And, of course, with the inevitable insinuation, the man said, “Waiting for me to take you, little one? Anywhere you like.” But innuendo or not, he was right about Adam needing help.

Reggie supported him through the hallway to the men’s room and into a stall. “You’d better try this sitting down.” He closed the stall door and left Adam to fend for himself.

With concentrated effort, Adam managed to lower his jeans and sit on the toilet. He was able to relieve his bladder, but then his stomach decided it was time for attention. What felt like a gallon of ice and tequila sloshing around was apparently too much for an inexperienced drinker like Adam. He fumbled his way to the floor, and cringed, knowing he was kneeling in pee. Wave after wave of nausea gripped him hard as he brought up all that lime and salt and acid.

He clutched the rim, using the cold porcelain to steady himself. It was worse than last winter’s bout of stomach flu. At that time, Josh had held Adam’s hair out of the way and soothingly rubbed his back. Afterward, Josh had fussed over him and cleaned up the mess without complaint. A wave of despair rolled over Adam. There’d be no such comfort for him anymore.

Finally, Adam’s stomach seemed to be empty. He managed to flush away the mess and collapsed on the filthy floor, fighting back tears. He wanted to be home. He wanted Josh.

Reggie knocked on the stall door. “Here, use these to clean yourself up.” A wad of wet paper towels appeared under the door.

If he weren’t so miserable, Adam would have laughed. That was Reggie’s version of wrapping Adam in cotton batting? Ludicrous. He wiped his face and hands and struggled to his feet. Using the sides of the stall to steady himself, he fastened his jeans, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

Reggie was leaning against the far sink, keeping a safe distance. No surprise there. The man always insisted on being in charge, and bodily functions had no respect for the chain of command.

Taking exaggerated care to walk straight, Adam dropped the towels in the trash and made his way to the sink. He washed his hands and face and rinsed out his mouth. “I need to leave now. Can you call me a cab?”

“I’ll drive you. Thinking about a motel for the night? Or were you planning on slinking back to that twit who doesn’t appreciate you?”

Adam closed his eyes and tried to think. More than anything he wanted to be in his own bed in his own home. But it wasn’t his home. It was Josh’s. Adam just lived there. At least for now. And he was too sick and angry and drunk to face Josh that night.

Reggie moved behind him and put his hands on Adam’s waist, letting them slide down to cup his ass. “Why not come home with me instead? It’d be like old times.”

Rage flared in Adam’s chest at this last pathetic attempt at seduction. He was tearing himself apart, and all Reggie could think of was getting laid. Oh, Adam wanted so badly to rip into Reggie and tell him just what a sad excuse for a man the unfeeling asshole was. But it was going to take all his energy to make it from the men’s room out to the street and find a cab. Maybe he could put up in a motel for the night. Some high-class place that didn’t care if guests showed up stinking drunk with no luggage.

He pushed off against the sink hard, breaking Reggie’s hold on him and shoving the man backward. Then, with unsteady steps, he tottered out of the bathroom, through the crowded bar, and onto the street.

Outside the air was cool, and the noise was less. People still crowded the sidewalk—couples on dates and friends celebrating the court ruling. A police car cruised slowly down the street, the cop eyeing the revelers.

Adam squinted, trying to focus. He looked around, hoping for a cab. No such luck. Fumbling to get his phone out of his pocket, he was buffeted and carried up the street by a group of happy drunks passing on either side of him. The phone flew out of his hand. By the time he got free and searched, his bleary eyes couldn’t spot it. He’d heard it hit the pavement, but after that, it could have been kicked anywhere. He’d have to go back in the bar and beg Rhonda to let him use the bar phone to call a cab. He reached for his wallet to get out money to pay for the call.

No wallet.

With some vague idea of chasing after the drunks whose ranks must have included at least one pickpocket, he spun around. Too fast. Couldn’t hold his balance. He stumbled, arms flailing, and ended up face down on the sidewalk.

He lay still, waiting for the burning on his palms to ease and the bump on his forehead to swell. Finally he gathered what strength he had left, rolled over and sat up.

Reggie was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, a smile on his face. “Ready to take me up on my offer?”

Adam put his head in his hands and wept.