Coda Books 04 - Strawberries for Dessert (MM)

.”
    “—I was just thinking: it’s terribly cliché, isn’t it? For a gay man to be friends with a straight woman?”
    “Would it be less of a cliché if all of my friends were gay men?”
    He smiled at me, and it was a genuine smile. For only the second time all night, I didn’t feel like he was mocking me. “I suppose you have a point.”
    Next to me, my phone started buzzing again on the table.
    “Shit!”
    “Is it always like this, darling?” he asked, and this time, the irritation in his voice was obvious.
    “Not always. Just—” Buzz, buzz, buzz. “I’m sorry. I really have to get this.” He looked away but flicked his hand at me in a way that seemed to indicate I should answer. “This is Jonathan.”
    “Jonathan!” Marcus again. “That Clifton woman will be the death of me. Forget about Sunday. I want you on a plane tonight.”
    “Tonight? Marcus, I’ve been home for less than four hours.”
    “I know that. But if she’s not taking the weekend off, neither are you. You may as well work there, where you can actually do some good.”
    I counted to five, then said, “I can leave at six tomorrow morning.
    Will that be good enough?” Please God, just let me sleep in my own bed tonight!

    He sighed. “It will have to be.”
    “Thank you, sir.” I was already apologizing to Cole again as I hung up. “I’m really sorry—” I started to say, but then I looked over to find him pulling his wallet out of his pocket. “Are you leaving?” I asked in surprise. He didn’t answer, but took four one-hundred dollar bills out of it and tucked them under the candle holder on the table between us. “You don’t have to—” I was going to say he didn’t have to pay for my dinner, and he certainly didn’t have to leave such a giant tip, but he interrupted me.
    “Listen, darling, you’re completely adorable, really. But the truth is I rather like being the center of attention. Especially when I’m on a date.”
    “You don’t have to go—”
    “I’d like to try this again sometime though.” He handed me a business card. It was completely blank except for his name and a phone number. He let his hair fall in his eyes and batted his eyelashes at me.
    “Call me. Preferably some night when you can leave the phone at home .”
    He walked away, and I was left to finish my dinner alone.
    My phone didn’t ring once the rest of the night. It didn’t ring again until five-thirteen the next morning. I was already back at the airport.

Date: April 17
    From: Cole
    To: Jared
    Oh Sweets, I have such a bone to pick with you! I called Jonathan like you suggested, and he obviously had no clue who I was. If you’re going to set me up, at least give the poor fool my name first, won’t you love? I suppose I’ll have to forgive you. I would say that you owe me, but I know your big bad boyfriend will never allow you to make it up to me properly. Such a shame, too….
    So Jonathan and I met for dinner, and honey, it was a disaster. I’m quite sure that I’m not his type. And although he is terribly cute, he’s also uptight, has no sense of humor, and is completely obsessed with his career. Just for the record Sweets, those are things that should be mentioned when you’re setting up the blind date. I’m afraid I didn’t handle it well, and suffice it to say, things in Phoenix are still depressingly dry. I gave him my number, but I suspect it will be a rather cold day in hell before he calls. Good thing I’m loaded, because the way things look at the moment, I may have to fly all the way back to Paris just to get laid.

    THE next weekend, my father took me to a Diamondbacks game. I wasn’t much of a baseball fan, but he insisted that we go together a few times a year. We would buy overpriced hotdogs and cheap-ass, mass-produced beer that still cost eight dollars a cup. My father would talk about RBIs and the batting lineup, and I would pretend to care, even though we both knew I didn’t. Likewise, I would spend half of the game fielding phone calls from my office, and he would pretend he didn’t care, even though we both knew he did. It was a ridiculous arrangement, but it kept the peace.

    It was early in the second inning, and I had just finished a call with my boss when my dad asked suddenly, “How was your date?”
    My mind was still on the phone call—Marcus had informed me I would be leaving for LA again on Monday—and my response was to ask stupidly, “My what?”
    My dad gave me the