“Quiet, Duke. Dad. See if he has a music player. Turn on something nice. And I don’t mean The Rolling Stones. Something jazzy and mellow. Fix a couple of cocktails and try to work a massage in there. That’ll help him relax and he’ll see that you’re all about making him happy… and not yourself.”
“Got it. Thanks, Vaughan.”
“You’re welcome. Good luck, Pops.”
“And Duke….”
“Yeah, buddy?”
“Go to hell.”
Quick hung up, not giving Duke a chance to respond. Knowing his friend, he was probably still looking at the phone. He laughed to himself while he checked the doneness on his meat. Perfect. Letting the meat sit and simmer in the gravy, he washed his hands again and went in search of plates.
Cayson
Cayson’s body felt so much better after the long shower. He could hear Quick talking to someone, but he couldn’t fully make out the conversation. Probably because his stomach was growling too loud. The smell of seared meat was easy to detect as soon as he stepped back into his loft-style bedroom. It was the largest and best renovation he’d made to his home. He looked around the large space, wondering if he should pull the sheets up on his bed or cover up the pile of dirty laundry waiting to be tended to. He let the bedspread fall from his fingers. No. Quick isn’t getting in my bed, not even in my bedroom, so I don’t have to waste time on this. And with that newfound determination, Cayson chose to put on a pair of worn cargo pants and a soft, white Hanes t-shirt. He was going for comfort. Besides, he wouldn’t get his hopes up just yet. He’d been with guys who talked a good game.
As soon as he turned the corner, Cayson’s mouth dropped open in surprise. Quick had not only set the table rather nicely, with scented candles, wine, and water glasses, but the food was already on the plates, steam rising from them along with the heavenly aroma. Quick was hastily whipping something in a small plastic bowl and when he turned, he nodded at Cayson to sit down. However, Cayson didn’t miss the appreciative glances Quick was throwing his way as he walked across the room and sat at the table, still at a loss for words. He was trying to remember the last time anyone had made him a home cooked meal.
“Feel better after the shower?” Quick went in his refrigerator like he lived there and pulled out two small bowls that already held salads.
“I’m better, yes. Thank you, Rome. This looks fantastic,” Cayson said, in awe as he watched Quick set the salad in front of him and drizzle the homemade dressing he’d been making on top. “How’d you learn how to cook?”
“Well, Vaughan’s mother and I decided to call it quits and stop fooling each other after Vaughan got old enough to understand. So when he came to my place on weekends, I had to feed him, not to mention myself. Pizza and Chinese got old pretty quickly. Since I believe a man can learn anything he needs to on YouTube, I watched a few tutorials and managed to produce a couple of edible meals. Food Network and a couple food clinics later… Viola! I’m a pretty decent cook.”
Cayson laughed and followed Quick’s lead when he sat, too, and began digging into his salad. “YouTube, huh?”
“It’s true. I started looking up basic recipes and following along. Next thing I knew, I was starting to enjoy it. It became sort of a hobby. Playing around with and destroying some creations really took my mind off missing my son, missing….”
“Companionship,” Cayson filled in after Quick trailed off. “I get that.”
“I have to ask.” Quick wiped his mouth after chewing a hearty chunk of his pork chop and took a sip of his wine. “How in the hell did you end up with a first class jerk like Dr. Stuck-up? He doesn’t seem like your type at all.”
“And you do?”
“More than that asshole.”
“If I recall. You were a real ass—”
“Yeah, yeah. I know. Thank you very much,” Quick said hurriedly, his sexy quirk of his lips showing Cayson a playful side. “At least it wasn’t the norm for me. I was nervous and unprepared for you, Doc. That’s all. I’m far from an ass, and I think deep down, you know that. That other guy seems like he embraces the title.”
Cayson had eaten most of his tender pork chop by the time he finally got around to coming up with an answer that didn’t make him look desperate. “Well. I always knew he was deep in the closet and wasn’t coming out. So he never led me on in that respect.”
“But the not touching you.”
“He’d touch me,” Cayson said sternly, before softening his voice. It wasn’t right to project his frustrations on Quick, especially after he’d cooked him such a nice meal and made a gallant effort to make him feel better. “He just wasn’t keen on touching—”