When Irish Eyes Are Smiling Ch. 04

My phone started going ape shit on the dresser across the room. The only time it vibrates that hard is when a call is marked urgent. I huffed, annoyed at the interruption, but knowing that it would take a while to stop bouncing around over there if I didn’t shut it off. I didn’t want it to wake Dev, so I carefully disentangled myself from his body. Regretting that I had to leave his warmth for even a minute, I hurried over and snatched it up. Flipping it open, I saw I had a text message, not a call.

“It just better not be the boss, ‘cause if he thinks I’m comin’ in today he’s sadly mistaken. It’s not gonna happen!” I mumbled to myself while opening the message.

It wasn’t my boss; I almost wish it had been. That at least I could put right out of my mind. A note from Eric, on the other hand, asking if we could meet for coffee and catch up, wasn’t so easy to blow off as if it hadn’t happened. I’ve never gone soft so fast in my life.

“Fuck you, you fuckin’ fuck! There’s no fuckin’ way I’m fuckin’ interested in seeing your skanky fuckin’ ass. You can téigh trasna ort féin, you striapach!” I muttered to the words on the screen, calling him a whore and suggesting he go fuck himself, as I deleted the message. I must have been louder than I thought, or Dev was more awake than I thought, because I heard him shift on the bed, turning toward me.

“Who’s that, sexy? What’s wrong?” his voice was rough with sleep.

Turning my phone off, and setting it back down; I crawled back under the sheet saying, “Nothing and no one that either of us needs to worry about, babe. Now come here,” I pulled him up against my chest, running my hand through his hair and to the back of his neck, “I need to kiss me an angel good morning.”

He chuckled sleepily, and melted against me, returning my kiss. He started to say something, cleared his throat, and tried again, “Man, I’m starving…and horny,” he sounded surprised by the last, “I was having the tastiest dream a minute ago. We were doing it in IHOP like a couple depraved rabbits and I was scarfing down Belgian waffles.”

“God in Heaven! That’s one for the dream diary,” I said. I pushed him onto his back and slapped his firm abs just hard enough to sting. “I’m gonna take a shower then we can refuel.”

*Devlin*
I listened to Joel in the shower, feeling strangely—right. Usually, there’s a point in these “morning after” moments when I feel restless. Like there’s an intruder in my house. Joel didn’t feel that way. He felt like he’d always been a part of my life. Slipping into the living room, I booted up my laptop. Deb and Brian had probably been checking their email all last night waiting for some word from me.

I hoped I could properly put into words what I wanted to say. I didn’t want to come across as a blithering idiot.

Deb,
Intervention may be necessary. Biker boy has me in his thrall. Did you like him? Did Brian like him? Should I stay or run? Please send advice or National Guard.

P.S. Sorry for the dramatic entrance and asshole behavior. I’ve been suffering from testosterone overload. Love ya!
Dev

I hit the send button just as Joel came out of the shower, toweling himself dry.

“What’cha say we make your dream come true, Muffinman? Breakfast at IHOP?”

“Sounds like the start of a relationship,” I grinned, and shut the laptop.

I’d meant that jokingly, but it turned out to be the truth. I don’t know which one of us had decided it, but that week and the next, we tried to move ourselves beyond the bedroom. I started that Sunday by showing Joel around my favorite park, the one with the hiking trails and hidden grottos.

So, okay, I didn’t quite leave the bedroom behind. There was something about the sight of Joel, tee shirt bunched up under his arms, jeans jerked down about his hairy thighs, cock rising up beside the wildflowers—it drove me crazy. I’d planned on being quick, not wanting to give any fellow hikers an eyeful, but the taste of Joel’s musky cock mixed with the fragrance of crushed grass was too intoxicating. I licked and slurped and nuzzled my way up and down from piss-slit to furry nuts. His moans mingled with the hypnotic buzz of insects and the whisper of the wind in the trees. His strong body undulated under me, hips thrusting. I came off him long enough to chew his rubbery nipples, and smooth down his hairy chest. To kiss him deep and hard, before returning to his navel and follow his sweet treasure trail back down. Finally, I took him into my throat. He shuddered and spurted, his cream thick and sweet as honey.

He got his revenge later on that week when we met up at the zoo. He blew me in the reptile room.

It was a strange time. Part of what had worried me in having a relationship with a guy was how to act. With girls, I was always pretty macho, paying for dinner, opening doors, killing spiders. They cooked while I added motor oil to the car, that sort of thing. That was the way I liked it and why I always picked ultra-feminine women. With Joel, it was like being with a partner or that best friend in high school. Every morning we shared the shaving cream and straightened out each other’s ties. Every evening we lifted weights and spotted each other in the gym. Joel cooked dinner, being a darn sight better in the kitchen than me, but he also worked on the motorcycle while I handed him the tools.

We alternated where we spent the night, his place or mine, and we walked together to Espresso Yourself every morning. The baristas behind the counter were charmed by our evident romance, and had our coffees ready and together on the counter. Off to work. We e-mailed each other throughout the day and video chatted during lunch.

Now and then, we met up at the Lounge Lizard. If I got there first, I made sure to have a scotch waiting for Joel and the jukebox playing Patsy Cline. I could not believe how good it was going. There was only one odd thing. Joel kept getting these calls. His phone would vibrate, he’d glance at it, and I swear his face would darken. I asked him about it once. He insisted they were nothing, but I saw him angrily erasing the messages.

Two weeks later, on Friday night, we met Deb and Brian at Buon Mangia for dinner. Deb had emailed me back that first Sunday:

Adore Biker Boy. He’s one-in-a-million. Lose him and we’ll be forced to kill you. Love Deb and Brian.

I was really glad to get a second chance at introducing Joel to them. Just us, no pressure. Brian and I traded tales of our wanton youth, stories that had Joel and Deb falling over laughing, crying into their napkins. It was going great, until Joel’s phone rang.

He sobered up at the first ring, but visibly relaxed after pulling it out and glancing at the name. “Would you excuse me for a second, please? I need to take this.” He slipped out of the booth.

“What’s that about?” Brian asked.

“I wish I knew,” I murmured. “I think it might be one of his brothers or sisters,” I added. This wasn’t the time or place to lay out my worries to Deb and Brian.

“Have you met any of his family?” Deb asked.

“I get introduced next Saturday.” Joel’s parents had made the voyage from Ireland in ’61, leaving a crowded, dirt-poor and oppressive part of the Green Isles for the freedom and golden opportunities of America. They were just teenagers at the time, in love with this mythical country where an Irish-Catholic boy could grow up to be president. They’d worked at the worst jobs, saving their pennies until they were able to open their own pub, which they’d run ever since. All this while raising five kids, Joel being the youngest.

Now Papa O’Shaughnessy was retiring and passing on the keys to the pub to his daughter, Rosie, and son-in-law, Matthew. It was at this soirée that Joel planned to introduce me to the family. Joy!

“They’ll love you,” Brian said slapping me on the back. No hiding from him how anxious I was. “Just don’t be yourself.”

“Very funny.”

Joel returned and we all went back to my place to talk, staying up way too late. Deb and Brian finally left and Joel and I finally crashed. For all that, I got Joel up early the next day. I had something special planned.

“Where are we going?” he asked. He’d seen me sneaking around, and I’d left the apartment while he was in the shower.

“We’re celebrating our two week anniversary,” I told him.

“A milestone,” he laughed, “and the skeptics said it would never last.”

I grinned, but I wondered if he knew how true that was. I’d have never imagined I’d still be with my Java-man two weeks later. I certainly wouldn’t have believed that I’d be having what I’d never dreamed possible: a relationship like Brian and Deb’s. Friendly, fun, the sex still hot as ever. I knew one thing; I didn’t want it to end. In me was a kind of quiet desperation to hold onto this, hold on tight and never let go.

We arrived at the park and I was rewarded by Joel’s surprise when I pulled out a picnic basket. “You can haul this, Biker-boy.” I handed it over and got out a blanket.

A walk from the lot across the main meadow brought us to a large stage and crowd of people seated on blankets and lawn chairs. The band on stage, most of them wearing cowboy hats, was warming up. A lot of the people had brought their own picnics, some had even brought hibachis and the smell of hamburgers filled the air. I spread out the blanket and Joel started to remove food from the basket like treasures from a chest.

“What the fuck—?” he breathed, pulling out grilled sausage sandwiches wrapped in foil. They were smothered in melted cheese and marinara sauce. There was an asparagus salad, a bottle of wine, and, yes, the tiramisu-for-two.

“Ordered it up last night from Buon. You didn’t think I was going to make lunch, did you?”

“You fucker! I can’t believe this!”

“Wait till you hear the music.”

His face went from suspicious to astonished as the band, after welcoming the crowd and introducing themselves, started on their first song: Heartaches.

“It’s a Pasty Cline tribute concert,” I told him then, and laughed. Damn. Making someone else happy was fun!

“How’d you find out about this?” he asked.

“Mark—you remember him from the barbeque? He’s a Country fan. I asked him about concerts and he let me know about this one. Serendipity, huh?”

We ate our sandwiches, drank our wine and listened as different stars appeared and sang Patsy’s most famous tunes. It was only when intermission arrived that our afternoon hit a snag.

“Ah, shit!”

“What?” Joel asked.

“I forgot the coffee! I was going to get us a thermos from Espresso, but I just spaced on it.” I shook my head chagrined. “You wouldn’t have forgotten.”

“Damn right,” he grinned, “No sweat though. There’s a coffee cart over there.”

He leaned over to kiss me, his lips warming mine until my pulse beat in my ears. “This is the best afternoon!” he whispered, breath hot. “I’m going to have to think of something extra special for when we get back home.”

He stood and stepped over my outstretched legs saying, “Don’t you dare touch that dessert till I get back,” his tone implying dire consequences for disobedience.

“You’d better hurry then,” I called after him as he walked away.

I admired his ass, outlined by his tight jeans, swaying mockingly, teasing me. I watched him stroll over the grass, around blankets, until his dark head was lost in the crowd. My cock was twitching and my body was humming with anticipation. I could still smell Joel’s cologne in the air.

Shit. I wanted him now!

A buzz. It startled me and, at first, I wasn’t sure what it was. Then it came again, and again.

Joel’s phone. He’d removed it from his pocket along with his keys when he sat down. I glanced over quickly in the direction he’d gone, nervous, uncertain. Then I snatched it up.

Eric. The name in the window was Eric.

Eric? That was Joel’s last boyfriend. He hadn’t said much about the man except that they’d broken up after a three-year relationship. Had Eric been the one phoning him all this week? No wonder Joel had looked so disturbed.

The phone buzzed in my hand yet again. I knew it was wrong, but I opened it up. It was a text message. I glanced about for Joel then quickly pressed the buttons to pull it up.

Meet u week from this coming fri. If u r not there I’ll stop calling.

Meet him? Meet him where? I nervously glanced around again. Joel was nowhere to be seen. Trembling, I pressed the buttons to erase the message. I quickly set the phone down, and lay back on the blanket.

Ten minutes later Joel arrived, his shadow blocking the sun. He had two cups of coffee in hand.

“Hey, Biker-boy,” I smiled up at him. “Ready for dessert?”

*Joel*
Over the next two weeks, spent almost exclusively in Dev’s company, I felt increasingly as if I were dancing through clouds, every one with a brightly shining, silver lining. The occasional thunderhead did make brief appearances on the horizon thought, in the form of calls or text messages from Eric. I never took the calls, and erased the messages without responding, but they kept coming. I’d put them out of my mind most of the time, but I couldn’t keep from fretting about them at odd moments when my thoughts weren’t occupied by Devlin.

One night, I found myself asking God why he was doing this to me. Lying there with Dev curled up against my side, his warm breath washing across my chest and his heartbeat against my ribs a counter point to my own; I prayed Eric wouldn’t ruin my life a second time. Just the thought of this incredible person not being next to me made my chest tighten, and my throat constrict and burn. I didn’t know how it’d happened, but Devlin had managed to fill the empty caverns that Eric had left in my heart. I’d barely survived losing love the first time, and something inside told me that this was my last chance. I knew that I couldn’t withstand a second trip through Hell and come out the other side capable of trusting again.

Mostly though, I walked around with a smile in my heart, feeling like sunrise was finally sending light through the nightmare my life had been. It must have showed clearly, because my secretary commented on it one morning after taking my lunch order.

“I’m so glad to see you in love again,” she’d said. “You’ve been such a Gloomy Gus since you and Eric split up, I wondered if you were even going to try again. Whoever this Devlin is—I just hope he knows what he’s got.” She scooted out quickly, not waiting for me to respond.

I sat there for several minutes, too stunned to do anything. I’d never told her I was gay, and I’d certainly never told her that Eric was my lover. I thought I’d played him off as a friend successfully until that moment. I thought Devlin had been taken as a friend, too, for that matter. I began to wonder if I’d been fooling anyone but myself about being in the closet at work.

I got a second chance to meet Deb and Brian. Knowing how important they were to Devlin, I did my best to put everything negative out of my mind. I was working until my phone rang and Eric sprang back into my head. Luckily, it was my Mam, and I knew why she was calling. I excused myself briefly to take it.

“Hey, Mam. How’s every little thing?”

“That’s what I’m calling about, Sweetling. Did you put in the order for that special cake like I asked you to?”

“Yes, Ma’am, I surely did. I didn’t go to that bakery you said though. I’m getting Massimo, Buon Mangia’s pastry chef, to make it.”

She sounded pleased about that, wondering why she didn’t think of it herself, and I thought it was a good time to bring up the fact that I’d have a guest coming to Pop’s party.

“Will you, now? And would we know this person?”

“No.”

“I see…would he have a name then?”

“No, everyone just calls him, ‘Heyyou’,” I quipped with a chuckle.

“Well, now…would you listen to yourself being a cheeky, little bastard to your loving mother? If that’s your new beau’s influence on you, I can’t wait to meet him.” I could hear the smile in her voice.

“His name’s Devlin, and you’ll love him, Mam. He’s great, believe me.”

“We’ll see. If he loves you, then I’ll love him, I’m sure.”

“It’s too early to be talking about love. It’s only been a couple weeks.”

“Too early to be talking about it, maybe, but not too early for me to hear it in your voice.” I sighed, not knowing what to say. My mother could always peg me without any effort. “Alright, love, I’m dropping it. I just hope your young man is strong enough to take the Hell this family’s gonna put him through till he’s proved hisself.”

“So do I.”

When I returned to the table, everyone was ready to head out, so we paid the bill and headed back to our building where the four of us spent the rest of the evening talking with music playing softly in the background.

The next day Devlin surprised me with a picnic and concert in the park to celebrate our two-week anniversary. I couldn’t believe he was so thoughtful, especially since I hadn’t thought to do anything for it. I was used to being the one who came up with such things, and it threw me off stride a little. In a good way.

At intermission, I went to get us some coffee to go with the tiramisu and encountered Robbie, here with Mark I assumed, who nearly managed to ruin my day.

“Oh my God, Joel!” he called when he spotted me in the coffee vendor’s line.

“Oh my God, Robbie,” I replied, mimicking his tone and flamboyant body language.

He shook his head, tysking at me and making a no-no sign with one finger, “I’d be careful about doing that sort of thing, Sweetie. Haven’t you figured it out by now? Acting like that is what had Superbutch acting so pissy at the barbeque.”

“Old news, Robbie. We talked about all that.”

“Is the right?” He sighed heavily, rolling his eyes as if I were so stupid he needed to consider if it was worth trying to enlighten me. “I don’t know how you’ve lasted this long with him. I’m sure you know by now that he doesn’t like me much; in fact, he barely stands me. It’s not because I’m not a likeable fellow either, it’s because he can’t abide queens. I’d say he was a homophobe if he didn’t brag about his hookups with men. That’s what men are to him, hookups, and not just any man. No, the way he describes them, they’ve all been the Marlboro Man. Strangely enough, all of his women are Betty-fucking-Crocker.

“I still can’t believe he even brought you to meet us. He’s never done that before.” I couldn’t help but grin over his indignant tone. “I’d even begun to wonder if he was telling fibs about his male conquests. I sure hope you’re not just another notch on his bedpost. If you want my honest opinion—”

I didn’t, but knew I’d get it regardless.

“—I don’t think most of his butt boys are even real people to him. They never have names. It’s always ‘this guy’. ‘This guy’ he saw in the grocery store, he showed a house to ‘this guy’. ‘This guy’ had a great ass, ‘that guy’ had a huge penis, or a sexy, hairy chest, whatever favorite attribute caught his eye.”

“And that’s how he talks about me? Is that your point?”

“Amazingly enough, no,” he said, sounding genuinely surprised. “He’s never once mentioned sex where you’re concerned, which makes me wonder if you’re even doing the deed, despite that little bathroom scene at Brian’s, and I have no idea how big your dick is.” He eyed me up and down as he said that. “All we ever hear about is your dates; absolutely no spice at all.”

That made me happy. If Dev wasn’t telling tales then he wasn’t lumping me in with the other men he’d been with. Robbie broke into my thoughts, “You should’ve blown him, or even let him fuck you in the monkey house when you went to the zoo. He’s an exhibitionist to a large degree, and doing it with him in places where there’s a danger of being caught at it will definitely keep him interested.”