Stepping Out in Faith Ch. 01

Marcus frowned because it was true, and because it was disconcerting that his mother seemed to have no problem with it.

"Aren't you supposed to disapprove of something like that?"

"Why? You'll just keep doing the same thing behind my back. I'd much rather you talk to me about it." Cheryl waved it off, dismissively. "So, back to Andy. What's so special about him?"

"I didn't say there was something special about him."

Cheryl raised an eyebrow. God, he hated that eyebrow sometimes.

"He... was a virgin. Is a virgin? I don't know. You get the idea."

"Oh," Cheryl paused, a knot forming on her brow. "Well, that's different."

"Yeah, no sh-" Marcus stopped himself at Cheryl's scowl. "No kidding. I don't usually make a habit out of sleeping with virgins."

"So what happened?"

Marcus sighed, playing with his napkin.

"I don't know. We met at the club, he came over to my place. Everything seemed to be going fine, but then he seemed kind of nervous, like he wasn't sure what he was doing. So I asked him and he admitted to it."

Marcus ran a hand through his hair.

"I wanted to stop. I asked him to leave. But there was something about the way he looked. Like, as if he had a lot at stake and if it didn't work out then... I don't know. Besides, I figured if I made him leave, he'd just go back to the club and find someone else. I thought maybe it was better that I do it; at least I'd try to make it good."

"That's very generous of you, Marcus. And, also oddly selfish." Cheryl responded with an amused smirk.

"Thank you?" Marcus asked.

"I'm not certain that's compliment."

"Great," Marcus said dryly. "Anyway, it's not like we went all the way."

Cheryl looked out the window with a little flush on her cheeks.

"That's borderline too much information."

"I thought you wanted to know this stuff." Now it was Marcus' turn to smirk.

"Not quite that stuff." Cheryl said with a huff and took a big gulp of her Bellini.

"Right," Marcus smiled. His mother, at once shocking and a prude. He loved her.

"So you'll be seeing this Andy again?"

"No," the frown was back. "He was gone when I woke up this morning."

"He stayed the night?" Cheryl asked, surprised.

"Clearly not the entire night."

"You never let the boys stay the night."

"Well, he didn't actually stay, did he?"

"And he didn't leave a note or anything?"

Marcus shook his head and buried his fingers in his hair again, elbows braced on the table.

"That's very inconsiderate of him. What a rude man." Cheryl uncrossed and re-crossed her legs under the table, adjusted the placement of the utensils, and took another sip of her drink. "I don't think I like him."

Marcus smiled at his mother's protectiveness, endearing, although wholly unnecessary.

"Thank you, Mother."

Cheryl just nodded firmly, put out by Andy's disappearance.

"But it's not as if he walked out on you, he walked out on me. So no need to get all worked up about it."

"I am not worked up!" Cheryl narrowed her eyes at Marcus. "Why are you defending him?"

Marcus blinked.

"I don't know..."

"Do you have feelings for him?" Cheryl asked suspiciously.

"No! I mean, how could I? I spent all of a few hours with the guy."

"Sometimes that's all it takes," Cheryl said with a smile.

"No, at least not this time," Marcus glared. "He's too... I just wanna... Rrr!"

"You're angry at him?"

"Yes! I'm angry at him. What a... jerk! Who does he think he is? Who does that?" Marcus pushed back from the table, cross both his arms and legs in a huff and stared out the window.

"Asshole," he mumbled under his breath.

"What are you smiling at?" Marcus snapped when he noticed his mother's amused smirk.

"Oh nothing," she smiled.

"What?" Marcus demanded.

"I don't think I've seen you so worked up about a boy since that time you were 10 and Stephen stole your bike."

"That is completely not the same thing," Marcus said as he rolled his eyes. "You know Stephen and I never... You know."

"Yes, I know. But I'm still right."

"When are you ever not right?" Marcus' voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Hm, never." Cheryl took a dainty sip of her Bellini and signaled a waiter over for more.

"Don't look so pleased with yourself," Marcus said, drowning his own Bellini, ready for a refill. "But really, what was that supposed to mean?"

"It means that..." Cheryl paused and gave Marcus an examining look. "You really have no way of getting in contact with him?"

"Not unless he comes back to the club," Marcus frowned. "I don't think that's going to happen though."

"Well, you never know. Keep your eyes open just in case. Sounds like he's got quite a story and I think you should be open to listening if he's willing to tell you."

"What makes you think he'll be back?"

"I don't know if he'll be back. But just in case... Like I said, you never know."

Marcus was pretty sure Andy wouldn't be back. He told himself that was probably for the best. After all, he usually couldn't wait to get rid of most of the guys he brought home. He should be happy that Andy didn't stick around. Unfortunately, telling himself that did nothing to make him less pissed off.

"You know," Cheryl went on. "You wouldn't have this problem if you'd just settle down with someone nice."

"I've had boyfriends before, Mom," Marcus whined. "You never like any of them."

"That's because they're all those flaky artist types."

"I'm a flaky artist type," Marcus countered.

Cheryl snorted. "You like to think you're the flaky artist type. But you're too responsible for that. I mean, really, you have a job, flaky artist types don't have jobs."

Marcus rolled his eyes. He knew she was right. Not only did he have a job, but it was of that corporate variety that true flaky artist types looked down on. No, he just liked the idea of being a flaky artist, dressing the part with his daily uniform of black jeans and black t-shirts. But the honest truth was his art wasn't good enough for him to make a career out of it. So he settled for a corporate job; not as glamorous, but it was safe.

"You know, I met this nice young man the other day. He's helping with the decor for that museum gala I'm organizing." Cheryl smiled. "I could introduce you."

"No, Mother. Do you remember the last time you tried to set me up with someone?" Marcus groaned at the thought. His mother was really the worst matchmaker in the world.

"That wasn't my fault. How was I supposed to know that he wasn't gay when he dressed like that? And he agreed to meet you, so what was I supposed to think?"

"He was new in town, Mother. He thought I was just showing him around the city." Marcus shook his head at the memory of the disastrous date that ended with him trying to kiss a straight guy. "You've got the worst gaydar I've ever seen."

"Well, there's absolutely no doubt with Charles. I asked, just to make sure."

"You asked him?" Marcus said incredulously. "That's awkward."

"Quite the contrary, he was very polite about it." Cheryl looked pleased with herself. "So? I'll give him your number? It'll take your mind off this Andy character."

Marcus' instinct said no, but he didn't really have any excuse. His habit of sleeping around was working for now, but he was aware he couldn't go on like this forever. Eventually he wanted to find someone to share his life with. This Charles might not be that someone, but it couldn't hurt to give him a shot. What's the worst that could happen? Actually, it was probably best not to go down that road.

"Also, your father wants you to catch a ballgame with him."

Marcus rolled his eyes and groaned

"Does he want to? Or do you want to?"

"Does it matter?" Cheryl narrowed her eyes at Marcus' tone.

"You know it always ends up with him chatting with his work buddies and me playing on my phone," Marcus whined.

"You should be more grateful. Your father is trying his best and you need to cut him some slack. He's an old straight white man who doesn't know how to communicate his feelings. But he loves you and he loves baseball, and he's just trying to connect. You need try a little harder."

"Okay, fine," Marcus sighed. "I'll call him later. I guess there are worse things in the world than sitting through a baseball game."

Cheryl raised that eyebrow again and Marcus just smirked in response.

*****

Marcus glanced at his watch and then the scoreboard and cursed. It was only the third inning, but he felt like he had been there for ages already. This game couldn't end soon enough.

"Marcus!"

He turned at the sound of his father's voice.

"Come here, let me introduce you to someone."

Marcus obediently went to join his father with one of his work buddies.

"Marcus, this is Bill Newbury of Newbury Capital. Bill, this is my son Marcus, an art director with Stratified Studios."

Marcus shook hands with Bill Newbury as if he knew what the hell Newbury Capital was.

"Very nice to meet you, sir."

"Stratified Studios, that's that design company isn't it? You guys did the great campaign for the wristwatch last summer, right?" Bill Newbury kept up with the trends apparently.

"Yes, that was us," Marcus smiled politely. "Sorry, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to find the men's room."

Marcus beat a hasty retreat. His father had done this type of thing before, trying to get him to talk business with one of his buddies. Marcus always found it was better to escape before they got too far into that conversation.

He ventured down the hall and walked right past the men's room reserved for the lucky patrons of the Yankee stadium viewer boxes. Marcus figured he'd wander a bit, kill some time, hopefully by the time he got back to the box the game will be almost over.

As Marcus meandered through the halls of Yankee stadium, his mind drifted back to Andy, as it had whenever he had a quiet moment. Marcus shoved his hands in his pocket, glaring at the concrete floor. It'd been a month already and he still couldn't get those big brown eyes out of his head.

He'd gone on a date with that Charles guy his mother set him up with last night. They had a good time over dinner and drinks, chatting about design stuff. Charles was a good looking guy, Marcus could admit, and they even ended the night with a quick kiss on Marcus' stoop. But he had no real desire to take things beyond that, very usual for him. They hadn't arranged a second date yet, but Marcus was wondering if that was even a good idea.

"You guys all have your money for food?"

That voice. Marcus had heard that voice before. He scanned the area looking for the soft brown hair and big brown eyes. When he finally found it, he did a double take.

Andy was talking to a small group of kids, maybe twelve, thirteen years old. They were in the line for the concession stand. But it wasn't the kids that surprised Marcus, it was the black button down that Andy was wearing, complete with a white priest collar.

Marcus stared as Andy chatted animatedly with the kids, throwing his head back to laugh at something one of them said. It reminded Marcus of how Andy threw his head back that night in an entirely different manner.

Marcus set his jaw and marched up to the group.

"Excuse me," he said through clenched teeth.

Andy turned with a smile, which quickly faded when he saw who it was. Marcus watched as Andy paled.

"Do you have a minute?" Marcus stole a quick glance at the kids who were watching them with interest.

"Uh..."

Marcus cocked his head as Andy stared at him speechless.

"Father Dylan?" One of the kids asked.

Andy blinked once, twice, before coming to his senses.

"Um, yes. Yes. Peter, you're in charge. Take everyone back to our seats when you're done." Andy gave instructions without taking his eyes off of Marcus.

"Sure thing, Father Dylan," the kid named Peter said.

Marcus turned on his heel and made a beeline for the men's room. His heart was pounding as thoughts raced through his head. He had spent so much time this past month thinking about what he would say to Andy if he ever saw him again, but now that they were here, all those words escaped him.

In the bathroom, Marcus faced a solemn looking Andy, still pale, eyes a little wild, hands clutched in fists by his side. He was wound up so tight Marcus wanted grab him and kiss the tension out of him.

Marcus shook his head at the thought. That's the last thing he should be doing.

"Father Dylan?" Marcus' question came out as a snarl and Andy flinched at the tone. "Is Andy even your real name?"

"Yes, of course it is," Andy answered. "You thought I gave you a fake name?"

"I wasn't sure what to think after you ran out on me."

Andy was embarrassed enough to blush and look away.

"Well?" Marcus went on. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Andy frowned and opened his mouth, but no words came out. He swallowed, drawing Marcus' attention to the bobbing Adam's' apple and white collar. It sight simultaneously caused a stirring in his pants and amped up his anger.

"Say something!"

"I... I didn't think you'd want me to stay," Andy said. It came out slowly, measured, calming. "Isn't that how those things work?"

"What things?"

"One night stands?"

Marcus took a step back at those words. Suddenly, he couldn't breathe, all that anger rushing through his veins evaporated as he realized what a fool he had been.

"Right," he said, much less forcefully than before. "That's exactly what it was."

He moved toward the door but Andy was in his way.

"Move," Marcus said quietly but firmly.

"No, wait-"

"I said, move!"

"Wait!" Andy's hands came up again Marcus' chest to physically stop him.

Marcus could feel the heat of Andy's palms seep through his shirt and warm his skin. It mixed with whatever strange feelings were rolling through him and before he really understood what he was doing, he had grabbed Andy behind the head and was pressing their mouths together.

Andy resisted for a split second before melting under Marcus' hands and parting his lips for Marcus' invading tongue. Marcus took full advantage, ravaging Andy's mouth hungry, pouring all the anger, frustration, and yes, pent up sexual need into that kiss, until Andy was clinging to him and whimpering.

Marcus pulled back suddenly and looked into Andy's unfocused and bewildered eyes. He took in Andy's red and swollen lips and mussed up hair, and the way every breath was a little gasp of air.

Then Marcus leaned down until his lips were hovering right above Andy's ear. He breathed onto the delicate skin and felt the other man shudder underneath him.

"Fuck you," he whispered before pushing Andy away and marching out the door.