An Alien Love Bk. 02 Ch. 02

Sometimes I think how weird it is that I'm sitting at a coffee shop planning alien sex. But then I think... "Yeah, but someone has got to do it! Alien sex won't write itself!"

Anyway, I hope you grow to like Sloan as much as Murry!

Be well,

~M.~ from C.M. Moore

***

*Chapter 2*

Job number one.

Sloan reached the coffee shop and parked his bike. As he walked in, Elijah glanced up from filling a coffee craft.

"I covered for you." His chubby dark-haired roommate set the air pot aside and started to fill a second one. "I told the boss you had a dentist appointment."

"Boss here?"

"Gone."

"Cool." Sloan headed straight to the storage room. He stripped off his coat, hung the garment, and then grabbed his apron. He was clocked in and brewing coffee in record time.

"You told me if you went with Reese again, I should punch you in the downstairs." Elijah grabbed the milk and began to steam the liquid. He kept his voice low so the young couple congregating around the counter didn't hear him.

"Why don't you then?" Sloan asked as he eyed his friend. Elijah was his height but not as muscular as Sloan, just chubby. As he worked, his friend used his wrist to push back the thick curls on his forehead. Normally, Elijah's shyness took over and Sloan was surprised the man said the word downstairs at work.

"I don't get you." Elijah offered a handsome smile to a frazzled woman as he handed her a mocha. After she walked away, his friend turned to him. "You said the secret meetings aren't even... um... enjoyable. He cries most of the time." Elijah's bright eyes scanned the room to make sure no one heard him as he continued. Most of the customers left. The crowd thinned to college kids on computers. "You said Reese treats you like shit. He is married with kids and is never going to come out of the closet. He's never going to be with you, and you're done meeting in seedy motels like a hooker."

"I just wanted to get laid," Sloan muttered. He didn't add that he spent the night with Reese crying the whole time, and the man didn't even get hard. Probably couldn't with how much he drank. Sloan got nothing last night. Instead of saying all that, he finished refilling the sugar container.

"Do what everyone does for that and get an app."

"I don't even have time to do that." Sloan wiped off the counters. "I have two jobs and we are still barely making rent. We're late and in about two days our shit is gonna get tossed onto the street."

"We will make rent this month so get an app and swipe whatever way you have to."

Sloan scratched at his three-day-old whiskers. Now was probably the time to tell Elijah that he lost all his money.

Just as he opened his mouth, the bells on the entrance chimed. Saved by a customer. Later he would tell his roommate that they were screwed and not in a good way.

Sloan swiveled his head to the entrance. He was happy for the interruption not only because he didn't want to admit that he was broke, but also, he didn't feel like dealing with his messed-up love life. He knew he had to dump Reese completely, but Sloan was lonely. Reese had been around since high school. He was comfortable like an old pair of jeans. Although Sloan was lonely and sad, he would never admit that out loud to anyone.

A group of women chatting entered and ordered. They grabbed their plastic cups and pulled out their phones to decide where to go next. As they walked out, so did a few more people who'd been sitting around the tables. The place was emptying as two men stepped into the shop. He thanked God for that. The men who strolled in were both tall. Sloan guessed them to be near six foot five or taller. They scanned the tables before they marched up to the counter.

"Hello." The shorter of the two spoke first. He had red hair and when he spoke, he barely moved his lips. As Sloan scanned them, he realized that their suits cost more than everything in Sloan's closet put together. Probably developers. Sometimes in crummy neighborhoods, the rich fat cats would buy up places. Yeah, theses were developers or lawyers.

"Hey." Elijah turned from the espresso machine and faced the newcomers. "What can I get you?"

The redhead looked Elijah up and down and a slow grin spread across his face. It reminded Sloan of a predator.

The fat man who'd entered with the redhead took a spot next to the muffins. His vibrant green eyes scanned the menu, but he didn't appear to be reading any of the items.

"Wait here, please," The redhead said to his friend.

The fat man jerked his head and his swinging jowls flopped on his collar. Sloan had never seen an uglier guy. His bald head had the lights of the coffee shop bouncing to the ceiling. But for how unattractive he was, Sloan was oddly drawn to the man's eyes. He'd never seen eyes like that. They looked like emeralds gleaming in soft moonlight.

Eyes like that had Sloan waxing poetic. That was a first.

"Are you?" The redhead gestured to Elijah. "Are you Elijah Smith? Screen name EJSmithy432?"

His eighteen-year-old friend glanced at Sloan and he shrugged. Ever since Elijah's family disowned him for being gay, he looked to Sloan for direction. That being said, even Sloan had never had someone walk up and call out one of his handles on a website. In a nervous gesture, Elijah gripped the side of his jeans. His young roommate was probably thinking his parents or someone from his old church sent these men.

"We talked online." The redhead pulled out a cell phone and handed it over the counter to Elijah. "Do you remember me? JP?"

"Right. JP." Elijah glanced at the phone and grinned. His shoulders relaxed. "The Learning Institute." Elijah turned to Sloan. "Can I take a break? Cover for me?"

"Cool." Sloan nodded.

Elijah walked to the other side of the room and sat at a corner table with the redhead. Sloan would have to ask later what the Learning Institute was and if JP was a teacher or something.

While the two men spoke in low tones, more people walked out of the coffee shop. Only a guy on his phone and a girl bent over a textbook and laptop remained.

The fat man with green eyes didn't seem interested in JP, Elijah, or anyone left in the shop. Now he turned all his attention on Sloan. Since it was creepy to be in a staring contest with a stranger, Sloan began to clean off the counters and make a fresh pot of coffee. After three minutes of the stranger watching, Sloan walked back over to the counter.

"Can I make you something to drink?"

"Interesting." The fat man tipped his head to the side. "What do you suggest?"

"The caramel frost is popular."

"Fine." He waved his huge hand and moved closer to where Sloan worked. Since Sloan had made hundreds of these iced coffee drinks, he easily moved around blending and mixing. All the time, emerald eyes tracked him.

"You are a very good servant."

"Server," Sloan corrected. "Or a barista."

"Fine." The way the man spoke was like each word was measured. He spoke with authority and there was something about the deep confident commanding tone that Sloan liked. He always was a sucker for guys with deep sexy voices.

"Here." Sloan set the drink on the counter with a straw.

The fat man made no move to pick up anything. He only looked at the plastic cup and then the straw.

Reaching over, Sloan peeled off the wrapper and slipped the straw into the liquid. The fat man gave a slight smirk.

"That's four dollars and ninety-two cents." Sloan strolled to the cash register and punched in the numbers. He had the amount memorized with the tax.

The fat man didn't pick up his drink. Instead, he walked to the register. Sloan was starting to guess this guy wasn't from America. Maybe he didn't speak much English. He reeked of money and power and didn't appear to be stupid. Just the guy was too... watchful. Like everything was new or he was waiting to be stabbed in the back. As soon as he could, Sloan planned to look up the Learning Institute.

"What is the currency?" Green eyes drilled into the part of Sloan's tattoo that peeked out from his shirt sleeve. Yeah, not from around here.

"American dollars." Sloan kept himself from grinning. He wished he were so rich and pampered that he could forget what currency was needed.

"Fine." All the time, the green eyes stared. It was as if the stranger was assessing everything about Sloan. His blue hair, the part of his stupid tribal tattoo visible on his bicep, his torn jeans and old boots. The man missed nothing.

"I take it you're not from around here."

"No."

"Figured."

"You can tell?" The stranger's eyes sparkled with amusement.

"I was just thinking I wish I could travel around and not know what money I needed at a coffee shop."

The rich man tipped his head as if thinking much too hard about Sloan's sentence and dug into his breast pocket. He pulled out a hundred-dollar bill and set it down.

"Is this acceptable?"

"Plenty." Sloan smiled and punched in the amount.

"I do not travel much anymore. I must stay in my home now. I have many responsibilities and demands on my time. All of that has removed my freedom and limited my choices and..." He glanced around. "I do not know the currency here. Each place is vastly different.

"I get you. Jobs and life and crap get in the way of doing what we want to do. You know how it is?" Sloan set the fat man's change on the counter next to his drink.

"Yes." The fat man agreed. "I do know."

"And there's the yen and the peso and the euro and the pound. That's plenty to keep track of. Who needs it?" He shrugged and started washing out the blender.

"Yes." The fat man grinned. "Who needs it?" He paused. "If you could travel anywhere, where would you go?"

"I always wanted to see the Bahamas or Hawaii or like Tahiti. Someplace with the ocean and sun. No worries about money or who's looking for me. Just fucking on the beach." Sloan finished cleaning and then glanced up when he realized what he said. He was at work. "Sorry about my language."

"Your language interests me. You interest me."

"Cool." Sloan nodded and then started for the back-stock room. He should refill the napkins while the shop was slow. "Hope you have fun traveling." He got to the end of the counter when the fat man called out.

"Halt. Where are you going?"

"I'm not making drinks so I'm going to refill napkins." He turned and grinned at being told to halt. As his eyes took in the counter, his smile wavered. The man didn't pick up his drink or the money. That was a lot of cash to leave on the counter and he wasn't even watching it. "You should put that money away."

The fat man ignored his suggestion and waved to the menu on the wall. "What drink is complex?"

"Nothing is complex." Sloan glanced at the items. "But with the strawberry banana smoothies, I have to cut up the banana."

"Excellent." The fat man nodded, and again, his jowls flopped. "I will have five of those. You will stay here now."

Sloan scratched his whiskers. That was a dick move, but maybe a little flattering too. He shrugged and began to make smoothies. He was at work, and he guessed that if the guy could pay for it, what did he care?

"I like your hair." The fat man watched him as he worked.

"It's color in a bottle."

"I want you." The fat man scanned the room and then looked back at Sloan.

"You want me to...?" Sloan set the first smoothie next to the other drink and the little stack of money. He waited for the rest of the sentence.

"I want you." The fat man raised his chin and looked at Sloan like he didn't speak English. "I have decided."

"Oh." Sloan cleared his throat. That was flattering, kind of, but not only was he not interested, but he was also pretty sure he needed to take a break from sex and relationships altogether. "That's cool but no." He paused. What should he say? Not into old guys he'd known for a total of ten minutes. Sloan scanned the stranger. The man had to be in his sixties. He looked like he was used to getting what he wanted.

"No?"

Yeah, the stranger was surprised that the word no existed. Probably got whatever he wanted all the time. Sloan thought about lying and saying he didn't do men, but that wasn't his style. It was no. This guy needed to deal.

"The answer is no. I'm not into you." He set down the second smoothie.

"Into me?"

"Yeah." Sloan started making the next drink. "No."

"Is it my gender? I am aware that can be a problem here."

"No. I like guys. It's just that I'm not attracted to you."

"Attracted. How I look matters?" The way he said it had Sloan annoyed. It wasn't that he was completely shallow, he just wasn't into old balding sixty-year-olds he'd talked to for five minutes.

"Another dick move," Sloan muttered as he set the next smoothie on the counter. "Here's the thing. I'm not into older men or bald guys or whatever." Sloan frowned at the fact he did sound like looks were the only thing that mattered to him. That wasn't true. He tried again. "I don't do dudes that I've just met and—"

"Do not tell me what you do not want." The fat guy waved in a regal gesture. "Tell me what you do want."

"Cool." Sloan stopped chopping a banana. What did he want? Funny. He'd never really thought about it. "I'm looking for a man who knows what he wants and isn't afraid to tell the world he's with me. And he should be fit enough to keep up with me. I like to do things like lifting or boxing." Sloan's mind went to Reese. He used to be so healthy before the wife and kids and his spiral of depression. Now the man looked nothing like the high school football player he used to bang in secret. "I want a guy who knows what I'm worth and who I am and what I can be..." Pausing, Sloan shook his head at that stupid run-on sentence. "The thing is—"

"I have no idea what you are saying."

"Neither do I." Sloan chuckled at his fucked-up head and then set the fourth smoothie on the counter. He stared into green eyes. "How about if I say that I want a man with smoking six-pack abs, long hair, and a smile that makes me want to suck him off? How's that?"

"You would go with that person?"

"Sure." Sloan chuckled. "Why not?"

"Do you have an image?"

That question surprised Sloan. He expected the guy to be annoyed at his description and his term suck him off. He figured he would annoy the rich dude into taking his drinks and leaving in a huff. Instead, the man asked for an image. What the hell? If he wanted a painted picture, Sloan didn't care. This was all bullshit anyway.

"Let's go with..." Sloan grinned. "A man with the body of Channing Tatum from Magic Mike and a smile like Zach Effron." Sloan laughed to himself at the cheesy description. "Oh, and he should have a cock that's eight inches or bigger and he knows how to use it."

Sloan held up a banana as a visual and winked. If his boss were here, he would be fired for having this conversation at work, but what the hell, the rich guy asked.

"Cock? A male chicken?"

"No." Sloan laughed drawing the attention of JP and Elijah at the table. He started on the last smoothie and glanced over his shoulder. "Some words in English mean two different things. You can look up that one. Try porn."

"What are you discussing?" The redhead came to the counter and stood next to the fat man. "My exulted ruler," he whispered. "We should go."

Sloan got the last drink on the counter. He pretended he didn't hear the title of an exalted ruler. What kind of institute did they work for?

"Fine." The green-eyed stranger nodded at Sloan like he was dismissed. Maybe ruler was a nickname because this guy acted like he was the head of the stick-up-your-ass department. There was a tiny part of Sloan that wanted to see this guy let loose.

"If you gotta go, I'll get you a total." Sloan motioned to the cash register.

"Here." The fat man pulled out a hundred-dollar for each of the drinks. Neatly, he set a bill next to the cups until five hundred was on the counter. Sloan stared.

"I need to get your change..." Sloan stared at the money. He looked at the little stack of bills next to the first drink. He could've used that.

"No." The fat man started for the exit. "I want none of it. You know what I want." With that, he walked out of the coffee shop. The redhead followed.

Sloan rubbed his whiskers. Did the guy just try to buy him? He wasn't like that. Or... was that simply someone with no idea how money worked in the real world.

Scooping up the cash, Sloan put all the money needed to pay for the drinks into the register. The rest he shoved into his pocket. Whatever just happened didn't matter. What he needed to do was pay rent.

***

Thanks again for reading. I have more in store for Octnavin and Sloan. Please stay with me.