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1.

Present Day

“W

HAT

are we doing here again?”

The “For Sale” sign had faded over the long months of

exposure, the laminated rectangle as forlorn and neglected
as the small strip of unkempt landscaping underneath. Tall
clumps of overgrown grass and even taller weeds hid the
realtor‟s telephone number and pushed the thin metal
supports anchoring the sign out of the ground. Rob Gentner
fumbled at one side of the bracing in an absentminded
attempt to straighten the twisted frame.

“I wanted to visit the old place,” Rob said over the rush

of traffic on the busy street behind him, but he didn‟t glance
away from the abandoned building, once such a huge part of
his life. “One last time.”

Rob listened as his partner, David Morris, crossed the

broken asphalt of the empty parking lot, gravel and square
chunks of pavement kicked out of his way. David‟s forearm
snaked around his waist, pulling him flush against David‟s
chest and offering the same, unflinching support Rob had
depended on so thoroughly this difficult weekend.

“Don‟t expect to receive any proceeds from the sale….”
Rob choked back laughter, surprised at David‟s

uncanny mimicry of his sister‟s shrill voice, but not the way
he zeroed in on what had Rob so unsettled. For the first time

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since leaving their home in Saugatuck two days before, he
relaxed, his weight resting on David‟s cushioning belly. Rob
tried to associate the image of his sister he carried in his
mind, the childhood smiles and shared memories, with the
stiff figure in the lawyer‟s office. But the woman with the
tight, pursed lips and angry, disdainful glare as David held
his hand through the reading of his father‟s will remained a
stranger.

“It‟s funny, you know,” Rob murmured. “She hated this

place when we were kids. Thought her friends at school
looked down on us because our parents owned a
Laundromat. No matter what my dad said, she always
refused to help out.” Rob traced his fingers along the smooth
bone of David‟s wrist. “Guess she still has no problem
spending the money.”

The two men surveyed the squat brick building. The

reddish-brown paint picked out by Rob‟s mother, now faded
and peeling off in huge patches, reminded Rob of days spent
helping his dad apply the color to the exterior blocks. The
hottest weekend of the year, his dad had repeated to anyone
who would listen.

Plywood replaced the three broken-out windows on the

side facing the road. Some of the stickers had peeled away,
but the speckled glass of the front door still proclaimed the
hours of operation. Despite the changes, reflections of the
time passed since his last visit, Rob relished the comfortable
pull of his memories.

“How about you?” David asked. He rested his cheek on

Rob‟s back, his breath warm and reassuring through the soft
cotton of Rob‟s dress shirt. Sometimes David‟s fondness for
PDAs irritated Rob; he preferred the initial “P” stood for

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private. He wondered what it said about him that this
weekend he welcomed every one of them.

Rob shrugged. “I never cared. The folks needed me to

work, so I did.” He curled his arms over David‟s, hugging
them tighter to his chest as he reminisced. “It beat working
fast food. My friends would hang out, and I got a lot of
homework done.”

David laughed, the husky sound muffled against Rob‟s

shoulder. “Always the geek.”

“You should have seen me.” Rob grimaced at the

thought of his teenage self, an artist‟s favorite study in
angles, from the protruding beak of his nose and the sharp
jut of his Adam‟s apple to his awkward and pointed
collection of knees and elbows. Back then, nothing seemed
to fit, and he felt a stranger, both in his own body and the
world around him.

“I bet all the old ladies loved you.” David nuzzled Rob‟s

neck. The soft brush of his well-groomed mustache raised
goose bumps along Rob‟s skin, a familiar invitation to other
pursuits.

Refusing to acknowledge the distraction, Rob pointed to

the housing complex butted directly behind the deserted
laundry. Shadows trailed from the rusted fence separating
the two properties and fell over the building, streaks cast by
the afternoon sun as it dropped below the tall, two-story
units. “We served more of the apartment trade. Mostly
singles and the newly divorced.”

“Interesting crowd.”
“You have no idea.” A smile tugged at the corner of

Rob‟s lips, memories long forgotten dancing back into mind.
He ducked his head, a futile attempt to hide his expression.

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“I know that look.” David said. “What are you thinking?”
“What look? You can‟t even see my face,” Rob protested

in weak response to his challenge. David, the rat, dug his
fingers into Rob‟s side while Rob squirmed with laughter, his
voice rising higher in pitch. “Nothing, I swear.”

“It‟s got to be something.” David tightened his grasp,

and Rob yelped. David‟s portly build and, as Rob fondly
called them, his gorilla arms, evened out any advantage
offered Rob by his height. “You going to share with the rest
of the class?”

Unable to catch his breath, Rob struggled to slide out of

David‟s grip. “There‟s something so wrong about the way you
say that,” he panted, turning to face his tormentor.

“That‟s not what my students tell me,” David said. He

released Rob and fumbled in his front pants pocket with a
mock leer. “Besides, I know how to get you to talk.”

Rob tugged at his shirt and wiped his palm over his

disheveled hair, smoothing the reddish-blond strands into
place. “Here?” he questioned with a quick glance. The
neighborhood showed signs of wear, but activity still
surrounded them.

“Here,” David answered. He smirked, and Rob knew

David noted his brief mental descent into the gutter. Instead
of commenting further, an omission guaranteed to raise
Rob‟s suspicions, David raised his hand, slowly waving it
back and forth in his effort to grab Rob‟s attention.

“Where did you get that?” Rob immediately focused on

the dull silver gleam of the key. David continued to surprise
him.

David arched one dark eyebrow, his usual response

when Rob doubted his superior abilities. Both of them

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teachers at a small, independent college, the now-familiar
gesture first caught Rob‟s attention during the staff meeting
where they met. While David now carried more padding and
less hair, Rob still melted every time he did the eyebrow
thing. “Let‟s just say the lawyer‟s secretary cared for your
sister‟s attitude as much as I did.”

Rob frowned. The lack of a relationship with her no

longer troubled him, but her rudeness toward David today
upset him. “I‟m so sorry about the way she acted.”

“Not your fault.” David settled his arm over Rob‟s

shoulder, sliding it down to his waist and pulling him close
for another quick hug. “Besides, you warned me.”

Rob let the warmth of David‟s fingers, spread wide

across the small of his back, steer him toward the door.
Once in front of the glass, he hesitated.

“We don‟t have to go in,” David said softly. “It‟s just,

other than this place, you don‟t ever talk about growing up
here, and I thought—”

Rob reached for David‟s hand, the one holding the key,

and together, they opened the lock. “It‟s fine.”

W

HEN

Rob turned twelve, his school received a donation to

build a flagpole and an outdoor seating area in honor of
some aged alumnus. To distract the students from the dust
and noise outside their classrooms, one of the teachers
suggested they add a time capsule to the project. Busy work
disguised as a useful learning experience.

Each homeroom class had an opportunity to vote on

what they wanted to share with future classmates. They

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placed their objects of choice into a small metal container
before burying the lot under the concrete paving stones. Rob
never went back for the ceremonial uncapping. But here,
now, as Rob entered the Laundromat, he opened his own
tiny window to the past.

Quiet filled the empty space with a tangible presence.

Rob‟s footsteps echoed as he crossed over the linoleum floor,
cracked and marred by countless trips of the wheeled carts
now parked silent against the wall instead of rattling from
washer to dryer and back again. Small particles of dust
floated in the streams of light sneaking past the dirty
windows, and as he took a deep breath, he could almost
smell the memories trapped alongside the faint scents of
bleach and detergent clinging to the brown paneled walls.
David stood in the doorway, waiting for permission to share
this moment with him.

“Come on in,” Rob said. He ran his hand over one of the

clothes folding tables at the end of the double row of
washers, the plastic surface cool to the touch, still unstained
after years of wear.

“Somehow I thought the machines would be gone.”

David examined the bank of dryers set into the wall and
opened one of the doors. His voice sounded hollow,
resonating against the metal interior before he closed the
door with a loud snap. “Turn on the lights, and this place
would be back in business.”

“You interested?” Rob asked. “Someone could make a

living here if they wanted.”

David lifted one of the flyers still pinned to the

corkboard mounted beside the public payphone. “Fish fry at
the Catholic Church on Friday, want to go?”

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“Should be numbers for babysitting, tires for sale, and

start your own business with buy-at-home cosmetics.” Rob
peered over David‟s shoulder. “How did I do?”

“Right on the money.” David stuck his fingers in the

coin return of the phone, and Rob watched him wiggle them
around in search of forgotten change. “Kind of creepy,
actually. You‟re telling me nothing has changed?”

“I have.” Rob wandered behind the counter where he

used to sit. The black swivel chair still waited there, the
fabric covered with the same faded blotches from spilled
bleach. His dad always wanted him out on the floor,
mopping or wiping down the equipment after each customer,
not sitting and reading. He used to hide paperbacks in the
drawer beneath the register. “But this place hasn‟t.”

“What did you use these big machines back here for?”

David asked as he leaned over for a better view.

“Industrial loads,” Rob explained. He watched David

fiddle at the controls with a fond shake of his head. Typical
David, compelled by his curiosity to touch everything. That,
along with his easy, open affection gave Rob a safe, secure
sense of place amidst his current uncertainty. “We offered
contract laundry services, and they hold three times the
amount per cycle.”

“Tell me again why I‟m responsible for the wash at

home?”

Rob smirked at David‟s sly sideways glance as he gazed

around the interior. Everything matched his memories so
closely. It left him uneasy. Life, encased in amber, trapped
forever and unable to evolve. Such an odd counterpoint to
the changes he had gone through. “You offered?” He forced
himself to respond to David‟s joke.

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David draped his arm over Rob‟s shoulders, giving him a

gentle squeeze. “Little did I know. So what‟s the draw with
this place?”

Rob settled into David‟s embrace and smiled, touched

once again by his partner‟s careful awareness of his moods.
Despite their relationship‟s lack of perfection, Rob
considered himself a lucky man to have found such
consideration. He leaned over, brushing David‟s lips with a
light, grateful kiss. “You know how you tell me you always
knew you were gay?”

“Sure.”
“Well, I didn‟t.” Rob held up his hand when David

opened his mouth. The two of them had touched on the
subject before, but rarely in depth. Not on Rob‟s end.
“Everyone called me a late bloomer, blamed that for my
differences and lack of interest in girls. My mom got sick,
and between the business, my dad, and school, I didn‟t have
time to sleep, much less think. Then I came back here and
worked over the summer.”

“And what?” David prompted.
“And then—” Rob searched for the right word before he

gave up, helplessly shrugging his shoulders. “Everything.”

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2.

July 1998

“

C

OME

on, man,” Barry whined. He stretched across the low

counter of the Laundromat, his graphic print T-shirt riding
up to reveal a pale excess of potato chip, soda, and video-
game-induced flab as he tried to knock Rob‟s geology
textbook off his lap. “You gotta come.”

“I told you I‟m working this weekend.” Rob slouched

lower in his chair, hunching over his notes both to protect
them from Barry‟s flailing arms and to hide his eyes from the
overgrowth of black hair covering his friend‟s stomach. “God,
back off, would you, you ape?”

“How many times do I got to tell you, don‟t be hating on

the fur. You‟re nineteen, you‟ll hit puberty soon.” Barry
finally gave up and slid off the counter. He rubbed his hand
exaggeratedly around his exposed gut, knocking over the
miniboxed display of laundry soap, before he pulled his T-
shirt down. “You‟ve worked every weekend this summer.”

“It‟s different since my mom had her heart attack.” Rob

closed his book, setting both the heavy volume and his folder
of paperwork on the floor. His leg jiggled up and down, his
baggy shorts flapping against his thigh as an outward sign of
his impatience at his friend‟s persistent nagging. “I told you
that.”

A buzzer went off, signaling the industrial capacity

machine behind him had finished. Rob stood and raised his

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arms above his head, listening to the crack of his vertebrae
with satisfaction. He had sat cramped in one position for too
long, studying for his test on Monday. Turning his back on
Barry, he pulled up his sagging shorts and shifted the damp
laundry to the dryers. Experience taught him the load took
less time to dry when he divided up the wet material.

“Those the sheets from the juvy?” Barry asked. “Gross.

How can you touch them? I mean, who knows what kind of
skuzzy stuff you‟re being exposed to?”

“They‟re probably less grody than yours,” Rob

responded. “Besides, it‟s good money.” He didn‟t bother
explaining how his dad‟s contract with the county to handle
the juvenile detention center‟s wash helped with his mother‟s
medical bills. Extra effort, but the industrial work brought in
more revenue compared to the daily operation of the smaller,
coin-operated units out on the floor.

Sweat ran down the side of his face, and Rob swiped at

the moisture with the crook of his elbow. Hot and clammy
even in a T-shirt and shorts, his reddish-blond hair stuck to
the back of his neck in damp clumps. Thick and humid with
the combined scent of multiple brands of laundry detergent
and fabric softener, the air hung heavy in the small building.

Most of the time, the powerful mixture didn‟t bother

Rob, but this summer had been a scorcher, no sign of a
cooling, evening breeze even with all the windows propped
open. He tossed Barry a towel. “Speaking of gross, wipe your
belly grease off the counter and pick up the stuff you
knocked over.”

“Not like any of the losers here would notice,” Barry

grumbled, but he shifted his ball cap on his stringy black

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hair, bill to the back, and set to work anyway. “Who does
their laundry on a Saturday night?”

Rob looked around, embarrassed to think the customers

had overheard, but no one paid them any attention.
Teaching her three kids how to fold towels kept Mrs. Ruiz
busy, and the few others read or dozed through a replay of
the day‟s ball game on the older model television his dad had
hung in the corner.

The dryers started, Rob emptied another cart of sheets

into the washer. With not more than two or three customers
each hour, his evening had stayed quiet until Barry‟s arrival.
Weekends tended to be hectic during the day, the aisles full
of running kids and exasperated parents, leaving the nights
slower.

His dad liked to close early, concentrating on the

contract work. Rob figured every little bit of business helped.
He would rather stay open, avoiding the inevitable knock on
the glass when a latecomer spied him moving around. The
later hours brought in a different kind of clientele, one
rougher than the family crowd, but Barry‟s contempt toward
Rob‟s regulars still offended him.

“You gotta come to the party.” Barry drifted back to his

original topic. “Everybody‟s going to be there.”

Rob shook his head. He wondered who constituted

“everybody” anymore. Since graduation and his first frenzied
year of college, Rob stayed in contact with only a few fellow
gamers and, of course, Barry. “I‟ve got a killer test on
Monday. I need to study.”

“God, you turned into such a loser.” Barry slouched

back over the counter to plead his case. “I can‟t believe
you‟re in summer school.”

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“Sooner I‟m done, the sooner I‟m making money.” Rob

shrugged. Barry‟s constant harping irritated him even
though he hadn‟t shared his parents‟ financial problems or
the way his dad made it clear Rob needed to be self-
supporting as soon as possible. Yeah, he worked evenings for
his dad and took classes during the day at the community
college while anyone else they went to high school with came
home to spend their summer on the beach, boating and
partying. So what?

By pushing himself, Rob hoped to knock out three of his

core requirements over the summer for a lot less money, and
they transferred to his program. Even more tempting, the
possibility of a teaching certificate if he abandoned the full
four-year curriculum. The choice weighed heavily on him,
but once established, he could finish up his degree at night.
Maybe his dad would stop nagging him to quit school and
come home.

The mat at the front entrance chimed and Rob lifted his

head, turning away just as quickly. Crap. Not tonight. Rob
chewed nervously on his lower lip, Barry‟s voice droning on
in his ear. Unable to help himself, Rob stared as the man
carried his duffle bag to the end row of washers. Rob had
noticed him two or three Saturdays ago. Actually four, his
brain helpfully supplied. Nothing too out of the ordinary, a
single guy and his laundry strolling in right before the last
load time posted on the front door.

He probably rented one of the cheaper units in the

nearby apartment complex, unwilling to pay the extra cost
for the so-called convenience of a pint-sized washer and
dryer unit that wouldn‟t even handle three towels. He
captured Rob‟s attention despite the way he washed, dried,

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folded his clothes, and walked out each time with nothing
more than a nod in Rob‟s direction.

“Did I tell you Rachel Wallis and her amazing ta-tas is

supposed to be there tonight?”

Rob ignored Barry‟s continued campaign and squatted

on his heels. He grabbed the next huge bag of dirty laundry
and dumped the contents into the sorting cart.

“She keeps asking me how you like college and what

you‟re up to.” Barry fed some coins into the vending
machine, and Rob listened to the familiar clunk as a soda
dropped into his friend‟s eager hands. “She‟s still got it bad,
must be all your tall, pale, and skinny. You show up tonight
and even without the six-pack she cost me, I bet you could
hit that.” The soda hissed agreement as Barry popped the
tab, bubbles rushing to the opening.

Rob stood back up, absently tugging at his fallen shorts

once again. Somehow he had managed to lose a freshman
fifteen, not gain. He either needed to buy a better fitting pair
or regain some weight. He turned to steal Barry‟s soda only
to stop, surprised to find the newcomer had joined Barry at
the counter, his brown eyes fixed on where Rob‟s hand still
rested on his waistband.

“Can I get change here?”
The guy had a nice voice, almost gentle. For once Barry

shuffled out of the way without Rob nagging him. His soda
dragged along, wet trails of condensation left behind. Rob
swallowed, staring at the mess as he silently took the offered
bill and returned the change. Of course, the first time he
approached Rob, it had to happen with Barry around. Rob
caught a quick flash of silver, a broad band encircling the
man‟s thumb, and then it disappeared from view, folded over

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the coins. Rob waited for him to walk away, hoping like hell
his ability to breathe would return once he did.

“Thanks.” The guy held his ground, and Rob looked up

in time to catch a flirtatious smile. “Your name‟s Rob, right?”

Rob nodded. He cast a glance to the side, all too

conscious of Barry‟s closeness.

“I‟m Jim.”
Despite his desperate mental plea, Rob‟s mouth and

brain refused to communicate. He bobbed his head once
again, willing himself to say something that wouldn‟t sound
stupid or juvenile.

“I guess I‟ll be seeing you around.”
Rob‟s eyes followed the scuffed brown boots as they

trailed back to the washers. Barry started in, nothing
different than a hundred times before when customers had
interrupted them, but all of Rob‟s focus stayed on the close
fit of faded denim as Jim strolled away from him. Rob
traveled up the long stretch of leg, paused at the soft gray T-
shirt pulled over a curving slab of back muscle, and
continued to the black, curly hair pushed behind the glint of
more silver.

What an idiot, Rob chastised himself as his mind

abruptly re-engaged, flooding with appropriate replies to
Jim‟s conversational opener. There shouldn‟t be anything
special about him, just another guy here to wash his clothes.
Rob couldn‟t understand his fascination. Well, that was the
problem, Rob thought as he wiped at his suddenly dry lips.
He could.

“You aren‟t even listening to me,” Barry complained. His

knuckles rapped the counter in a bid for Rob‟s attention.

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“Something‟s different. You‟ve acted weird ever since you
went off to college.

Rob froze. If Barry, not the most intuitive person,

noticed, had anyone else? Things were different. At least,
Rob was. Going away to school, freed from the pressures of
home and worry he faced experiences and opportunities he
never expected. He learned about himself too, finally paying
attention instead of drifting along. How had he not known?

Barry guzzled the last of his soda and belched. Rob

stared as his friend wiped his hands across the front of his
wrinkled shirt, and he grimaced. Okay, all things considered,
maybe he would cut himself some slack on the lack of
personal awareness. Still, Rob couldn‟t even say for sure
when he realized something was going on.

Everything had clicked while sitting in his Spanish

class. Kevin had been telling a story about his weekend,
arms flying excitedly through the air as he spoke, and the
longer Rob had stared at his hands, those long, strong
fingers and carefully groomed nails, the more he wondered at
their strength. The way the callused texture might feel on his
skin. And the idea didn‟t bother him, not at all. So yeah, Rob
was going with it. He just wasn‟t sure how.

Rob had caught a guy casually checking him out in

math class, but he hadn‟t felt brave enough to do more than
kind of flirt back when they met in the library to study. He
didn‟t know if this Jim presented a real opportunity or if he
was playing around to kill time. Either way, Rob had blown
his chance to find out.

“I get your life sucks, coming back and working for your

old man.” Barry tried the paternal approach, his arm across
Rob‟s shoulder, stale breath directly in Rob‟s face. “Hell, if

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my dad asks me one more time about getting a job while I‟m
home I‟m going to explode, but you haven‟t dated anyone
this summer.”

“That you know of,” Rob pointed out, strictly on

principle.

“Please. You‟ve told me everything since the sixth

grade.” Barry dismissed the impossibility with ease. “Promise
me you‟ll think about showing up?”

Rob stared at Barry, wondering how his friend would

react if Rob opened up the lid on his can of confusion and
shared his new awareness, his doubts and fears over his
future. But should he risk going on that limb? What if this
whole weird feeling was a fluke? Rob struggled with his
decision, but then Mrs. Ruiz‟s two boys ran up, needing
change for the ancient video game. The moment lost, he
settled for nodding his agreement. “Yeah, I‟ll try.”

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3.

July 1998

“S

EE

you next week.” Rob set the last basket of clean and

folded laundry in the backseat of the older model sedan and
shut the door with a wave. Mrs. Wolf hadn‟t changed since
she taught his second grade class. A widow now, Rob
wouldn‟t be surprised to discover she‟d talked her late
husband into his grave. Sometimes he thought she brought
her wash in for the company.

Tonight, fresh off a visit with her grandchildren, she

outlasted two older men from the senior‟s complex down the
road and then followed Rob around, chatting as he mopped
the floor. He finally ushered her out the door by pleading
closing time, and yeah, maybe he dropped a few hints about
Barry‟s stupid party. Rob‟s sense of guilt compounded at her
disappointed understanding. Not only did he deliberately
mislead his best friend, but now he lied to little old ladies as
well. Barry was right, he was a loser.

Rob locked the front from the inside and turned off the

outside lights. He grabbed the bags of trash staged by the
back door and dragged them out to the dumpster with a
tired grunt. The night had stayed ungodly hot and humid,
and he wanted to crawl into a shower and air conditioning.
Maybe finish his studying. He heard music from the
apartments, a television commercial blaring through an open
balcony door.

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Barry hung around for another hour, interrupting Rob‟s

work and bitching the entire time about people Rob barely
remembered from high school, but who apparently now went
to college with Barry. Thankful all over again his partial
scholarship had taken him out of state, Rob didn‟t bother to
listen. Instead, he kept trying to figure how to explain things
to Barry. Hell, Rob didn‟t even know how to explain them to
himself, and what about his family?

He tossed the last bag into the open maw of the trash

container with another grunt and trudged back to the door.
Rob cursed when he stumbled over something in the dark,
the overhead lamp in the rear parking lot out again. Every
time the county replaced the bulb the neighborhood kids
used the light for target practice. At least they kept their BB
guns away from the laundry windows.

“Hey.”
Surprised by the quiet greeting, Rob thought Barry had

returned to drag him off to the party, but then whoever
slouched against the building in the dark, one foot braced on
the back wall, inhaled on a cigarette. The coal sparked into a
reddish-yellow glow. Sweet and aromatic smoke twisted and
turned toward the sky, hanging in the still air. His nose
wrinkled at the familiar smell. Definitely not tobacco.

Rob swallowed. Rivulets of sweat dripped down his

forearms, the moisture collected in his palms, and he wiped
his hands on his shorts. Someone had draped a string of
party lights on their deck, and the colors flickered on and off
across the parking lot and offered enough light for Rob to
recognize the Saturday night guy, Jim.

“Hey,” he replied. Rob immediately wanted to slap

himself for sounding like an idiot, but he couldn‟t escape the

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sudden, swamping awkwardness, the million-and-one
questions racing through his brain. The guy had left before
Barry, leaving Rob alone to continue composing his list of all
the things he should‟ve, could‟ve said. Of course, not one of
those responses came to mind now that he had another
chance.

“You want a hit?” Jim asked, offering the joint in Rob‟s

direction.

Rob stared at the silver thumb ring, the glowing end of

the hand-rolled cigarette, and he shook his head to try and
clear the fog. “What?”

“The weed. You want a hit?” As if showing Rob how, Jim

brought the joint to his lips, pursing them out and inhaling
deeply. He closed his eyes as he held in the smoke, head
titled back and dark tendrils of hair falling into his face. The
rush of want filled Rob like a punch to his gut, leaving him
breathless and a little nauseous. He stared, and his body,
pulled by an inescapable magnetism, swayed forward.

Jim patted him on the shoulder, holding his breath and

rolling his eyes to pantomime the effort involved. Rob‟s
awareness focused on the heavy, warm weight of Jim‟s hand,
the way his palm smoothed slow and steady down Rob‟s side
before coming to rest on his hip. A casual touch between
friends, except Rob‟s nerves responded in an instant, blood
sparking to life in his veins.

“It‟s cool if you don‟t.” Jim finally exhaled, the grayish-

white cloud billowing out. He coughed, and Rob pulled
himself back, watching as Jim‟s hand fell away.

“No,” Rob said. He pushed his sweaty hair off his face

and hoped he didn‟t look as awkward as he felt. “I want to.
I—you surprised me.”

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The rest of the night seemed far away, and silence

closed around them like the teasing tendrils of smoke. They
stared at each other in the dim light. Rob‟s heart pounded in
his chest, and he shivered as a line of sweat rolled down the
middle of his back.

“Yeah,” Jim said, looking at his boots. “I surprised

myself.”

They both laughed for some unknown reason, the sound

filling the space, the silence between them.

“Uhm.” Rob managed to cough the word out of his tight

throat. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay.” He didn‟t
understand the stillness or what Jim had tried to tell him,
but he refused to walk away. Instead, he listened to the
rumble of a car as it passed, the drone from a television
behind him, and waited.

“I‟m not trying to be pushy,” Jim finally said, back still

settled against the rough brick. “But I thought maybe you
were interested.”

Rob tried to relax, act like nothing about the situation

was new to him. His senses recognized the undercurrent
here, something different than when he met up with friends
back in high school to smoke up or his roommate brought
out some weed at college. He just couldn‟t figure the vibe
out. “I‟m good.”

Jim smiled, a quick grin before he took another hit. This

time he reached out, strangely gentle as he grabbed hold of
Rob‟s shirt and pulled, tugging Rob forward. His center of
balance disrupted, Rob fell onto Jim‟s chest. Flustered, Rob
braced his arm on the wall, but before he could apologize or
push back, Jim turned his head, just an inch to the side,
and pressed his lips against Rob‟s.

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| 22

Their noses bumped together, angles misaligned. Then

Jim exhaled, jolting Rob with a sharp jab of unexpected
disappointment. Shotgunning. That‟s all. Except, unlike any
time before. Sure, when Rob parted his lips and inhaled he
tasted the smooth caress of smoke as the warmth filled his
mouth and lungs, but also stubble, chapped lips, and strong
hands to tightly grip his shoulders, and—oh, holy fuck.
Unable to stop himself, Rob made a small noise in the back
of his throat, his eyes closed as he leaned in, desperate for
more.

“Exhale.” Jim reminded him. Rob heard him chuckle

and immediately tensed. Was Jim laughing at him? Did he
do something wrong? Jim patted him on the cheek. Fingers
light, brown eyes liquid with heat as he tightened his grip on
Rob‟s shirt. “You good?”

Rob coughed out the smoke he had taken directly from

Jim‟s mouth, aware of the faint first tinglings of his buzz,
unsure if the sensation originated with Jim or the dope. Hell,
he didn‟t care. This time when Jim held the joint to Rob‟s
lips, his other palm curved gently around Rob‟s jaw, thumb
stroking the soft skin. “Hold it in, okay?”

They stood pressed together, and Jim‟s eyes, dark

pupils dilated from the drug and the need to take in any and
all available illumination, reflected the glowing colors off the
apartment patio. Rob drew in a deep breath, the world
stopping and starting in jerky slow motion. He stared at
Jim‟s tongue, highlighted by the cherry-hot glow, gliding
pink and wet as it moistened his lips. Then Jim‟s mouth
covered his, saliva slick as they shared one breath.

Jim slumped against the wall, legs wide. He urged Rob

closer, let him settle between his thighs as he tapped the
roach out with the fingers not twisted in Rob‟s shirt. Rob

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| 23

moaned at the sudden, heated contact and fumbled for
more. Blinded by the rush of need, he grasped rough denim
and the smooth leather of Jim‟s belt. He slid his hand under
soft cotton to stroke the sweat damp skin beneath, and then
he was flying. Not from the weed, but the dizzying sense of
right and want and energy surging between them. For the
first time Rob could remember, he fit; there was a place for
him in the world, pressed so close to Jim he couldn‟t tell
them apart.

“Rob.” Jim shifted forward, a hard, slow grind before he

backed off and gasped out Rob‟s name for a second time.

Was that a question? Rob groaned his answer and

dropped his head. He scraped his teeth against the skin of
Jim‟s throat and fought to keep from losing everything at the
salty, sweet taste. He was hard, God, was he hard. Harder
than he could remember being his entire life. And Jim was
too. Rob pressed the thick line through their layers of denim,
and all his doubts collapsed beneath this sure and certain
knowledge.

Rob shifted, lifting one of Jim‟s legs onto his hip while

his hand smoothed over Jim‟s rounded ass, pulling him even
closer. Jim exhaled and let Rob have control, practically
boneless as he rubbed against Rob‟s hipbone. His rough
moan vibrated through Rob‟s chest, and he tightened his
grip on Jim‟s ass, the firm flesh hot beneath his hands as
they arched together.

“Can I suck you?” Jim whispered. He started his own

assault on Rob‟s neck, teeth and lips sharp and hungry, and
Rob‟s hips stuttered, disrupting their smooth rocking motion
as his head dropped to the side, offering up more of his skin.
“Anybody ever done that for you before?”

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| 24

“Yeah.” Rob stared into Jim‟s eyes, his voice shaky and

breathless because Jim was the one begging, and the way he
made Rob feel? Well, that was something to spend a lot more
time thinking about. Later.

Jim reversed their positions, pushing Rob against the

wall and sliding, sinuous and slow, onto his knees in the dirt
of the back parking lot. He fumbled with the zipper on Rob‟s
shorts, fingers slipping over moist skin as the fabric dropped
to Rob‟s ankles, and he glanced up to make sure he had
Rob‟s attention. Jim licked his lips and pressed hot, wet
kisses along Rob‟s stomach, rubbing his cheek and chin
roughly over the tender skin.

Rob‟s head spun, and he gasped when Jim sucked his

cock into his mouth. No hesitation. No coy little games. The
slippery, wet suction almost too much to take. Rob carded
his numb fingers, thick and clumsy, through the dark
tangles of Jim‟s hair. This wasn‟t his first blowjob, but Rob
knew it would wipe the slate clean.

Jim alternated the smooth, slick downward slide of his

lips, the sharper scrape of his teeth. Each stroke hotter and
wetter, messy with spit and Jim‟s slurping gulps of air. Rob
groaned at the electrifying effect on his nerve endings. The
skin on his stomach prickled, rubbed raw by the earlier
brush of Jim‟s rough bristle, soothed by the softer curls that
fell over his forehead, butting into Rob‟s belly with each
downward motion. Saliva caught in the hair on Rob‟s thighs,
dripped down his balls. Rob managed to widen the spread of
his legs, head lolling against the rough brick.

Rob swallowed his curses, mouth dry, tongue swollen

and thick. He heard cars on the other side of the building,
smelled fabric softener from the exhaust vent to his right,
Jim‟s shampoo, the musk of his own armpits. He tried to

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| 25

remind himself that they were outside—even with the lack of
light anyone might look out from their apartment—but he
didn‟t care about anything other than Jim‟s mouth as it
worked his cock.

Rob didn‟t protest when one of Jim‟s hands slid behind

his balls, callused fingers gliding up his sweaty crack, not
even when he gently circled the ridged pucker. Rob trembled
with breathless anticipation. Would he? Wouldn‟t he? And
suddenly everything became too much, too intense, and he
couldn‟t hold on.

“Oh, fuck.” Rob didn‟t try to bite back his loud curse.

His hips bucked, and just that fast, he came. He pumped
deeper into Jim‟s willing mouth, tightening his fingers in
Jim‟s hair, niceties forgotten as he drove to finish. Finally he
slowed, falling limp against the building, legs weak as his
cock slipped from Jim‟s lips.

Come splashed over his knee, spattering the brick

behind him and dripping hot and thick down his calf. Rob
blinked, eyes bleary. He ignored the spinning of the world
around him and searched for the source. Jim‟s head tilted
up toward him, face slack and mouth open as he breathed in
harsh pants of air. Rob realized Jim had been stroking
himself off at the same time, and his body flooded with heat
all over again.

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| 26

4.

Present Day

D

AVID

couldn‟t miss the memory-evoked emotions as they

played across the sharp planes of Rob‟s face. He felt
disturbingly like a voyeur, afraid he had taken advantage of
Rob‟s grief to pick and pry into a past that Rob barely
mentioned on a good day. Between his father‟s funeral,
obviously still fresh in Rob‟s mind, and his painfully distant
meeting with his sister scant hours before, today could
hardly be considered a good day.

But as Rob wandered through the empty building,

reliving his past, David knew he had made the right decision
sweet-talking the lawyer‟s assistant into giving him the key.
Here, within these silent walls, Rob opened up and David
caught a deeper sense of the forces responsible for shaping
the man he loved.

“What happened next?” David asked as he struggled to

balance his jealous curiosity against his desire to support
his partner.

To David‟s surprise, Rob laughed. He threw back his

head, face split wide in the unabashed grin David couldn‟t
resist, the burst of sound disrupting the quiet around them.
“No one would write a comedy this bad, I swear.” Rob
climbed onto one of the clothes folding tables, his
movements smooth and easy. His feet swung back and forth,
rail-thin body swaying as he acted out the rest of his story.

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| 27

“I‟m stoned out of my mind. Come all over me, and my shorts
at my ankles. Jim‟s got his dick out, still on his knees, and
before I can even say „thanks‟ or give him a hand up, a car
pulls into the lot and nails us. Headlights full on.”

“You‟re kidding me.” David raised his eyebrow, forcing

back his own expression of incredulous humor. Rob had a
knack for storytelling, and his detailed description made it
easy to imagine the scene, transporting them both to that
moment in time.

“No, really.” Rob held up his hand, his laughter trailing

off. “But the story gets better.”

“How?” David demanded as Rob paused and loosened

his tie, dragging the silken knot lower down his chest. David
leaned forward, his hands squeezing Rob‟s thigh muscles,
relieved to see Rob return to his more natural and grounded
self, losing the stiffness so present throughout the weekend.

“It was the cops.” Rob fumbled with his collar, and

David took over. He unfastened the top two buttons and
opened the shirt for him, comforted by the simple, domestic
act. “We were so busted.”

“Oh, my God.” David dropped his head onto Rob‟s legs

to hide his expression, rubbing his cheek over the fine wool
fabric. He couldn‟t believe he hadn‟t ever heard this story
before, and he planned to memorize every last bit for teasing
at a more appropriate time. Preferably Christmas, when
everyone gathered at his mother‟s house. She thought Rob
was so perfect.

“You should have seen the officer‟s face, especially once

he recognized me.” Rob stroked the hair on the back of
David‟s head, then started to rub at the base of his neck. “He

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| 28

had no clue what to do. He bowled with my dad, for Christ‟s
sake.”

David groaned at the knowing press of Rob‟s long and

steely fingers and, ignoring the twinge in his lower back at
the awkward position, shifted his feet for better balance.
God, he loved those hands, always had. If Rob needed a
distraction from his emotions, David stood ready and willing
to be his human worry stone. He stretched his arms across
the smooth surface of the table and wrapped them around
Rob, cupping his palms over Rob‟s ass to make sure he
wouldn‟t get away.

“Are you even listening to me?” Rob paused his rubbing,

and David nodded, silently urging Rob to continue with both
the story and the impromptu massage. Call him pathetic,
but only a fool would turn down one of Rob‟s amazing neck
rubs, no matter the circumstance.

“Anyway, he told us to zip up, herded us inside, and

called my dad.” Rob turned his attention to David‟s
shoulders, finding and pressing on the knotted muscle with
the unerring skill David appreciated.

“That sucks,” David managed to mumble semi-

intelligently as his own stress of the last few days started to
dissolve. Who knew being supportive was such a literal pain
in the neck? Rob should be spending all his time massaging
the world‟s troubles away instead of wasting his talent
teaching. At least, David‟s troubles; he never had learned to
share well with others.

“I talked him into letting Jim leave, since he couldn‟t

think of anything other than indecent exposure to book us
on.” Rob still sounded surprised at his success. David might
have told him otherwise; he knew his partner to be an

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| 29

extremely persuasive man. His mind drifting to prior
compelling tactics, he needed a second for Rob‟s words to
sink in. With a manful and mature display of his devotion,
David lifted his head out of Rob‟s lap and stared at him in
disbelief.

“He took off and left you there?” David‟s protective

instincts wouldn‟t let him imagine just abandoning Rob like
that, and his shoulders tensed all over again. He glared
around the laundry, searching the dark corners for some
sign of the jerk. But nothing moved through the deserted
rows of equipment other than the dust disturbed by their
presence.

Rob smoothed his hand over David‟s cheek, his thumb

brushing across the David‟s upper lip and mustache. “He
didn‟t owe me anything. Besides, if the cop wasn‟t going to
file charges, it was better he took off before my dad arrived.”
He pressed a kiss at the corner of David‟s mouth while David
processed this new twist.

Sulky rather than soothed, David let Rob slide forward

on the table, his body encircled by Rob‟s thighs as he voiced
his displeasure. “What an ass.” He wouldn‟t admit it to Rob,
but finding a downside to this amazing specimen of
manhood in Rob‟s past pleased his competitive nature. “So,
how did your dad handle things?”

“Not very well. I couldn‟t wait to get back to school.” Rob

leaned further forward, resting his head on David‟s stocky
shoulder. His sudden need for contact told David more than
any words ever would. “My sister freaked. All she could think
about was what people might say. Mom wouldn‟t stop
laughing, I guess I get my sense of humor from her. She
made visits home a little easier. We all pretended nothing

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| 30

was wrong, but after she passed on, I was pretty much on
my own.”

“She died right before you received your teaching

certificate, didn‟t she?” David‟s eyes narrowed, his mind
adding this new information into the already familiar
timeline of Rob‟s life.

“Yeah.” Rob‟s reply sounded muffled, and he turned his

head to the side. David resisted the urge to speak ill of Rob‟s
family and forced himself to sit quiet. He knew if Rob didn‟t
talk about this now, the emotions would stay with him.
David‟s hands stroked over Rob‟s spine, the light movements
soothing for him as much as Rob.

“I feel bad things weren‟t better resolved between us.”

Rob sat up again, his face shadowed. He waved his hand,
encompassing the building around them. “So much of our
lives spent within these walls, so many memories, and in the
end this is the place where it all fell apart. I‟m never going to
get a chance to make him understand everything turned out
okay.”

David thought about the phone calls Rob had made over

their years together. The cards they picked out and mailed,
the slow and limited replies received in return. But
responses none the less. He paused, choosing his words with
care. “I think he did understand. As much as he could. He
knew you went on to a good life, a career, people who love
you. What more can a parent want for their child? Even if he
couldn‟t find a way to show you.”

“Damn, you‟re really good at this support thing.” Rob

played the compliment off as a joke, but the tenseness he
carried disappeared under David‟s hands. David tightened
his embrace, hugging Rob closer. Rob might complain about

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| 31

his octopus-like tendencies, but what else could he do?
Words wouldn‟t lessen his partner‟s sorrow; maybe it was
time to lighten the moment. “I find the whole situation totally
unfair.”

“What?”
“Your experience sounds much hotter than my first few

fumbles with what‟s his name in the fifth grade.” Despite his
teasing, David was afraid his statement hit too close to the
truth to be comfortable. Rob liked to poke at him about his
possessive streak; hopefully he didn‟t realize how deep it ran.

“You thought it was hot?”
David nodded. Clueless to his own charm, Rob sounded

dubious. David squeezed his hands over Rob‟s ass and let
his voice drop until it was low and growly, the way Rob liked
it best. “The way you tell it, real fucking hot.” Rob‟s cheeks
flushed and, inwardly pleased at the proof his diversion
worked, David continued. “I still want to kick that guy‟s ass
for coming on to a sweet young thing like you.”

“I was legal,” Rob protested with a fist thump against

David‟s chest.

“Barely. He shows up out of nowhere, pushing drugs,

public indecency, God knows what else.” David allowed some
of his honest outrage to bleed through. “We should look up
that officer. I want to thank him for interrupting.”

“You were the one messing around in the fifth grade,”

Rob pointed out with careful precision. He avoided David‟s
eyes, his fingers stroking across David‟s striped tie.

“I was precocious.” David‟s voice filled with smug

satisfaction at the small signs of Rob‟s displeasure.

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| 32

“I‟ll say.” Visible in all its lecherous glory, the

resurrection of Rob‟s grin made David want to cheer. “You
reminded me of him when we first met, you know.”

“Who? This Jim guy?”
“Both of you appeared so open, so sure of what you

wanted.” Rob slid his hands between the buttons of David‟s
shirt, fingers lightly teasing the tufts of hair. A sneaky tactic
David whole-heartedly approved of.

“I was a respectable college professor when we first

met,” David said. “Beyond reproach.”

Rob snorted and sharply tweaked David‟s nipple before

he removed his hands with obvious reluctance and rested
them on David‟s waist. “Who dropped to their knees in the
supply closet and blew me fifteen minutes after that first
staff meeting ended?”

“Ouch.” David jumped, rubbing his sore flesh. “What

can I say? You inspired me.” Perhaps not conventionally
handsome, Rob carried himself proudly, so full of confidence
and good humor David had immediately been drawn to him.

Maybe there were one or two similarities to their

situations. Mainly, Rob. While not happy at the comparison
to Mr. Bail-at-the-first-sign-of-trouble, David took pride in
knowing at least he didn‟t dick around for four weeks before
making his move. He did still question how Rob had
transitioned from that first, tentative encounter to the man
David found so intriguing.

“I should have thanked him,” Rob said. “Jim, I mean.

Honestly, the whole mess saved me so much time.”

David tried but couldn‟t hide his disdain. Anybody who

turned tail and left a kid to clean up after him didn‟t deserve
any gratitude, no matter how things worked out.

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| 33

“Don‟t get me wrong, everything put right out in the

open before I had time to come to terms with it scared me to
death. But the situation freed me to make decisions without
worrying about the fallout.”

Pleased with the proof their minds once again traveled

along parallel paths, David decided he would allow himself to
be a bit more gracious. “Kind of eliminated the whole „what‟s
the worst that could happen‟ scenario.”

“Exactly.” Rob grimaced. “Makes sense now, when I

think back. Imagine had things happened differently, if I
made different choices, do you think we still would have met
or ended up together?”

“Trust me, sweetheart. One way or another, I would find

you.” David kissed Rob, letting their lips cling and linger
with slow, gentle promise. He refused to contemplate a life
where he and Rob hadn‟t ended up together, not even to
satisfy Rob‟s sudden and healthy introspection. “And if we
hustle back to the hotel, I‟ll do my best to remind you of
anything you might have otherwise missed.”

“Shouldn‟t we get on the road?” Rob yawned, and David

traced a finger over the dark circles beneath Rob‟s eyes with
concern. “Work, and all that jazz?”

“Not when someone requested an extension to our

bereavement leave.” David tilted his head to the side and he
waited. He licked his lips, uncertain of Rob‟s reaction to his
so-far un-discussed decision. They had struggled with this
issue before, David‟s need to protect Rob versus Rob‟s innate
independence. David viewed it as a challenge, one more
aspect of their relationship to keep him on his toes.

“How much time are we talking about?”

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| 34

“Long enough for us to take a drive to the UP and enjoy

a little down time,” David offered. He kept his voice low, a
match for Rob‟s neutral tone that refused to give anything
away.

“You planned this.” Rob looked thoughtful. “You are a

bad, bad man, and I love you very much.” Rob slid off the
table into David‟s arms, and together they swept their gaze
over the paneled walls and equipment one last time. He
caught David‟s hand in his, and, always willing to follow
whenever Rob led the way, David allowed himself to be
pulled to the exit. “My dad told me something when I was a
kid. I can‟t even remember why now. I just thought it was
kind of stupid. Now I‟m pretty sure I understand.”

The sun had dropped lower in the sky, hidden by the

gray, rain-soaked clouds that had swept in while they
explored the building. Traffic whizzed by, tires humming
across the pavement. David made sure Rob stayed tucked by
his side as he locked the door and Rob‟s past behind them.
He pocketed the key, pleased to see Rob‟s eyes clear and
unshadowed when he leaned to whisper into David‟s ear.

“The last one is the one that counts.”

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About the Author

The joke in

C

HRISSY

M

UNDER

‟s family is that she was born

with a book in her hand. Even now, you‟ll never find her
without a book or seven scattered about. Forced to become a
practicing realist in an effort to combat her tendency to
dream, her many years of travel and a diverse assortment of
careers have taken her across most of the United States and
shown her that there are two things you can never have
enough of: love and laughter.
Visit her web site at http://www.chrissymunder.com/ and
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Copyright

The One That Counts ©Copyright Chrissy Munder, 2011

Published by
Dreamspinner Press
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the
authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Art by Catt Ford

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Released in the United States of America
June 2011

eBook Edition
eBook ISBN: 978-1-61372-034-9