ALLYSHIP AND MANNERS
Jude
I cringe at Malcolm’s greeting. Yo is the worst word in the English language—worse even than moist and pucker.
TJ and I stop near a blackjack table, and the beefy man catches up to us.
“Hey,” TJ says to him.
“Is this luck or what?” Malcolm booms, the cha-ching of slot machine payouts ringing behind him, classy jazz music playing overhead.
TJ slaps on a smile. “I guess it is my lucky night. How are you?”
“I am most excellent. I should have known you two would be here in Vegas,” Malcolm says, pointing to us.
“Why’s that?” TJ asks, brow knit.
“Well, you don’t post jack-shit on your social about your private life, TJ, but I’m a bit of a Sam Spade. I figured with Stone’s concert being the it event, I might see you here. Same team and all.”
“Yeah, we queer men love Stone,” TJ says, and I can hear the eye-roll in his voice.
“Hey, us straights do too,” Malcolm says, patting his barrel-like chest. “The love is universal.” Then he turns to me and holds his arms out wide. “Bring it in.”
Oh. We embrace, us queers and straights? I give him the quickest of hugs, then he steps back and shakes a finger at TJ. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were avoiding me.”
TJ offers an apologetic smile. “I got a little lost in the writing cave this last week. You know how it goes now.”
“Don’t I ever, buddy,” Malcolm says as if he and TJ were cut from the same cloth when TJ is fine silk, and Malcolm is scratchy polyester. “When the writing is flowing, it’s like a frigging faucet, right?”
“A geyser. Can’t turn it off for anything,” TJ says, and it’s sexy the way he’s handling this douche with aplomb.
“I hear ya.” Malcolm waves toward the nearby card tables. “But maybe we can have that drink right now. Play some poker. Talk shop. I’ve been dying to pick your brain about the whole biz.”
TJ glances at his carry-on luggage, then mine. “I wish,” he says, sounding legit disappointed. “We just got here.”
“Oh right. Shit. Of course. Long flight. You probably want to get to your room, and yada yada yada,” he says, then he squares his shoulders. “See? I’m working on my allyship.”
I’m pretty sure that’s not how allyship works, but I shut my mouth. Even though I want to say Why yes, Malcolm, I have plans to strip TJ naked. Put my tongue all over his body. Maybe even up his ass. How do you feel about allyship now?
“Cool. Let me know if you need any pointers,” TJ says, thoroughly deadpan, and I rein in a laugh. “But we can have that drink on Saturday.”
“Sweet. Let’s grab a beer before the show.”
“Sure. DM me,” TJ says, then gazes longingly toward the sleek elevator banks just out of reach.
Malcolm shakes his head. “Nope. Not falling for that, DM me. Pick a time now.”
Wow. He has a way to go on both allyship and basic manners.
“Okay, how about . . .” TJ pauses, and I can tell he’s trying to work out an hour that won’t overcommit him.
“The show’s at eight,” I say in my most polite voice, eager to ferry TJ away from this guy. “How about a seven fifteen cocktail? We have plans in the afternoon.”
“Sure. Seven fifteen is good,” Malcolm says. “Speakeasy at The Extravagant work for ya?”
“It’s on my calendar,” TJ says. Then we say our goodbyes, and Malcolm heads through the casino.
Once he’s far enough away, I turn to my companion. “I’m so sorry I ever suggested you say yes to drinks with him. If I blow you, will you forgive me?”
“Contrition costs three blow jobs,” TJ says.
“I’m ready to pay.”
As we head to the elevator, he sighs heavily. “I know I could say no to him, but I don’t trust that guy, and I’d rather know the enemy. Plus, he was a world-class jackass to Hazel online, and he knows we’re tight, so I’m going for intel.”
My heart thumps a little harder when I hear his reasoning. “You’re a good friend,” I say, then I glance down at my shirt. It reeks of Axe Body Spray. “Though, I do feel like I need a shower after that interaction.”
“You and me both.”
That’s an excellent idea.