Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Nico held tight to Ford’s hand in the car on the ride to the hotel, as if afraid he might bolt. It wasn’t a silly thought—Ford was as skittish as a virgin, which, if Nico hadn’t known better, he would’ve suspected. But the man sure as hell didn’t kiss like one. His lips tingled, recalling the hot press of Ford’s mouth from the previous evening and the slick, delicious taste of his tongue. It was better than any ice cream he’d ever tasted.

Ford was like a bottle of champagne you were unaware had been shaken—you assumed it was going to have some fizz, but when you opened it, the contents exploded in your face.

Ford was a man filled with bubbling contradictions, and Nico was ready to pop his cork, but only if Ford was willing. He didn’t mind giving it a twist or two, but Ford had to want it.

By the time they arrived, it was close to nine p.m., and Ford slowed his steps as they entered the lobby. “You want a nightcap?”

He waved at the restaurant, and Nico, much as he longed to go inside, gave a rueful glance at his casual pants that were wrinkled from wearing them all day. For the first time, he was uncertain. “I-I dunno. Are you sure? I don’t want people to stare at me because I’m not dressed good enough.”

Ford’s expression softened. “I’m positive. And trust me, they’re going to stare because I’m going to be with the best-looking man in the place.”

Still filled with misgivings, Nico couldn’t resist. “All right. But I think you got that wrong. That’s my line.”

They were seated quickly and ordered drinks, and Ford decided on a cheese platter. Nico gazed around the café. “I guess you were right. There’s a buncha people like me here.”

Ford tipped his glass in Nico’s direction. “I don’t think there’s anyone here like you.”

Nico sipped his whisky, but the liquor wasn’t what warmed him, deep in his belly and his heart. Going on dates wasn’t how he rolled—he’d learned years earlier that revealing his true self to someone else was a risk he wasn’t willing to take. But none of that mattered now. The past was irrelevant. He was here, sitting with Ford, whose eyes held the promise of good things to come.

Besides, he’d be gone in a few days. If his mother’s illness had taught him anything, it was to enjoy every second of life.

“Not hungry?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Looks good.” He roused himself and scanned the platter, picking up a couple of cheese cubes and popping them into his mouth. “Tastes good too.”

Ford’s brows drew together. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.”

“Are you feeling okay? You got so quiet.”

He put a smile on his face. No use in ruining their time together. “Nah. I’m good. Just tired from working. I promised to take Joey’s next shift ’cause he’s been taking mine.”

“Oh, damn, I forgot about that.” Ford sounded disappointed.

“Why? What’s it got to do with you?”

“Well…tomorrow night—my last night—they have a cocktail party and dinner dance. It’s at The Pierre. I thought maybe…maybe you’d like to come as my guest.”

Damn. The Pierre was high class. After walking past it for years, he would’ve loved to get to see what it looked like on the inside. As a guest.

“I dunno,” he demurred, and watched the consternation rise in Ford’s eyes. “I promised Joey, and I’ve been slackin’ off because—”

“Because of me, right? I’m sorry, Nico. I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

“No way. You didn’t. But I don’t feel right about askin’ him again.”

“I understand. It was just an idea.” Ford blew out a frustrated breath, and Nico thought fast.

“I mean, I’ll probably miss most of it, but we close at ten thirty. If I dress at the restaurant, I could probably be there by eleven thirty.” He chewed his lip. “But that’s probably too late, huh?”

“For the dinner, yes,” Ford said, and Nico couldn’t understand why his chest hurt. “But,” he continued, “not for me. No matter when you get here, I’ll be waiting. Because then I’ll get to see you one more time.”

Nico held out his hand, and Ford took it.

**

“Enough already, Tre. I’m not askin’ him.”

“I’m tellin’ you, Joey won’t mind.”

It was eight in the morning, and he and Teresa stood on the corner of 77th Street and Fourth Avenue, waiting for Joey to come out with their coffees from the bodega. They met every morning to take the R train into the city for work—Teresa would change at Jay Street for the F train, while Joey stayed on with him until he got off at 34th for his job at HM.

“Joey won’t mind what?”

His cousin held out the tray, and they took their coffees.

Nico glared at Teresa. “Nothin’.”

She rolled her eyes and made a face at him.

Unaware, Joey pulled out his phone to pay for the fare. “How’s the doctor? He still here?” They descended the steps to the station, and Nico saw the train was delayed—of course—and wasn’t coming for fifteen minutes. Fucking city.

“Yeah. He leaves tomorrow. I took him to Coney Island yesterday.”

“Giving him that New York experience, huh?” Leaning against a post, Joey drank his coffee. “You give him the Nico experience yet?” He smirked, and Nico grew hot.

“Shut up. It ain’t like that. He’s not the type you just bang and walk away from.” But why, Nico couldn’t say, as that had been how he’d handled his sex life for years. No strings, no promises. It had been what he’d wanted ever since his heart got stepped on.

So why was doubt creeping in? Despite all the joking he did over Anthony and Sergio’s over-the-top PDA, a tiny part of Nico wanted that. Wanted someone so into him, they couldn’t stop looking at him as if he were the sun and they orbited him. He wouldn’t mind a man who couldn’t keep his hands off him in public, unafraid to show how happy he was to be with Nico.

He wanted someone to care.

“I liked him,” Teresa declared. “He’s classy, unlike those bums you usually fool around with. He’s got an education, and it’s good that he’s older. You need someone who respects you and treats you good. I can tell he likes you. A lot.”

Joey tossed his cup into a trash bin. “I’m just fuckin’ with you. He’s a good guy, and like Tre said, into you.”

“Yeah,” Teresa, interjected. “Which is why—”

“Nothing. Stop it,” Nico growled and peered down the tunnel. “Where the fuck is this train? I’m gonna be late.”

“Why what? Tell me already,” Joey insisted.

Nico kept silent, but Teresa couldn’t control herself.

“Ford invited Nico tonight to a fancy dinner party with a bunch of other doctors. At The Pierre. I told him we wouldn’t mind takin’ over his shift so he could go.”

“And I said no. You’ve taken over my shifts the past two nights. It ain’t right.”

The train screeched into the station, and Nico walked inside with Joey and Teresa right behind him.

Joey was truly upset. “Babe. You know I’d do it, but I got us tickets tonight for the Mets. On the field, right behind first base. They cost me a ton.”

Disappointed, Nico put on a smile. “It’s okay. I told Ford I’ll go over after I finish at the restaurant. No big deal.”

Teresa frowned but stopped arguing with him.

Nico made it to work on time, and when he picked up his paper work, was pumped to find out from Carlos that they were starting an executive training class soon.

“Fill this out by Monday, and you’ll be notified if you’re chosen.”

“Thanks.”

“Bus is waiting.” Carlos was a man of few words, and Nico saluted him and ran out. On his way, his phone rang. Seeing it was his mother, he groaned but knew he had to answer it.

“Ma, I’m at work. I can’t talk right now.”

“Yeah? Good. Then you can listen. I just got off the phone with Teresa. Are you crazy? You’re gonna give up a date with a doctor, who wants to take you to The Pierre, so you can work in the restaurant?”

“What am I supposed to do? Joey can’t make it, and there’s no one else who can replace me.”

“Yes, there is. Me ’n Justine’ll do it.”

“Wha—no way. You’re not supposed to overexert yourself, even if your scans are clear. That’s what the doctor said. I ain’t gonna let you—”

“Look at you. Not gonna let me. It’s my restaurant. Mine and Justine’s.”

“Yeah, I know, Ma. But when you stopped ’cause it was too hard to be on your feet every day, me ’n Joey told you we’d do it. Same for Aunt Justine.” His mom had been diagnosed with cancer and was just recovering from that battle, while his aunt was dealing with COPD. “You both worked there for years to put us through school and give us whatever we needed. Now it’s our turn.”

“I know. And every night I thank God I had you. Both you boys are angels from heaven. And so is Teresa. She’s like the daughter I never had.” He heard her sniffle, and his heart squeezed. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for his mother. And that included missing out on a night with Ford so she wouldn’t have to push herself to make him happy.

“She’s the best, and so are you. Now I gotta go.”

“I’m not finished talkin’.”

“Yeah, but I am. I’m workin’.” Nico approached the bus and scanned the line. It already looked like the bus would be crowded. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“You sure will,” she warned.

It was, as he’d predicted, an extremely busy day but typical for a summer Saturday. He didn’t mind—it made the hours pass quickly. Ford had texted him, and at lunchtime he took a few minutes to read and reply, in between sandwich bites.

I’m at my second lecture of the day, this time about oxygen therapy for the skin. I spent my breakfast listening to talks about chemical peels and laser treatments. After lunch, I’ll be learning about new innovations in hair growth. I’d rather be sitting on a bus tour with you. Will miss being with you at dinner.

It all sounded important and heavy.

I wish I could be there. But Joey has field seats for the Mets game. I couldn’t ask.

I understand. But you’ll be here later?

Yeah, definitely.

If by any chance you get off early, meet me at The Pierre. Cocktails start at 7 in the Cotillion Ballroom, and the dinner is at 8 in the Regency Ballroom.

Nico sighed, imagining the glittering lights and well-dressed people. Payson had gone to high-profile parties and events in hotels like The Pierre, but he’d never invited Nico.

“It’s not for a plus-one.”

“You don’t want to be with a bunch of boring suits.”

“We’ll have our own party together.”

Nico should’ve known it was all lies and deceit. The ugly truth was, Payson hadn’t wanted him there. The only place good enough for Nico had been in Payson’s penthouse apartment.

Sirens blaring, a police car raced by, and cabs honked all around him. Sidewalk vendors hawked their cheap knock-offs. Who was he kidding? These streets were his reality, not fancy dinners in ballrooms with people who made millions of dollars.

I doubt it, he texted back, but thanks.

He couldn’t stay miserable, though. After his last tour was finished, he turned in his sheets and tickets and counted his tips. Over two hundred dollars. He was banking some serious cash this summer—he’d already made a thousand dollars. The best year ever, yet his mind wasn’t on the bills in his hand, but on the man from Florida and the invitation he’d had to turn down.

His phone buzzed, and seeing it was Anthony, he ignored it. It stopped but then immediately started up again, so he answered.

“What’s wrong? You break up with the boyfriend?”

“No, you idiot. Come outside.”

“What?”

“Stop talkin’ and get out here. I can’t stand here all day.”

Totally confused, he left the office and found Anthony pacing the sidewalk outside the building, two Macy’s shopping bags in his hand.

“What’s goin’ on?”

“Here.” He thrust the bags at Nico. “Joey called me and explained the sitch with you and the hot doctor. So me ’n Sergio are gonna go to the restaurant and help out. Your mom and Justine will be there to supervise, and we’ll make sure they don’t overwork themselves.”

“What the hell are you talkin’ about? You and Sergio? You ain’t never waited tables. And I told my mother—”

Anthony snickered. “Since when does your mother take orders from you? Anyways—”

But Nico wasn’t finished. “How are you and Sergio gonna manage?”

“Sergio waited tables at Applebee’s before he got this job.” An evil grin lit his eyes. “You think we’re gonna let you miss this chance? A date with a rich doctor? No way.”

Nico grunted. “What the fuck is this, The Bachelor? And I’m not seeing him ’cause he’s got money. Don’t be a fuckin’ idiot. It’s not like that.”

“I know that, dummy. Now, look. I went to Macy’s, and some sales guy helped me pick this out. You and him wear the same size, so he told me it would fit okay. There’s also a shirt and a tie. I got them on sale; you can pay me back later. Plus, I FaceTimed Sergio from the store because he knows all about this shit, and he gave me the thumbs-up. If you hurry, you can get dressed quickly and make the dinner.”

His head spun. “Wait, what? You and Joey did all that just for me to be able to go to this dinner?”

“Yeah. I mean, we know you like the guy. You can admit it. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with sayin’ so. It’s us.”

A swell of love for his friends and family rose inside him. These were the people he could always count on, no matter what. He didn’t even need to ask—they knew what he needed and came through in the clutch.

A sudden thought hit him. “I don’t have shoes. I can’t go in these sneakers.”

Panic struck Anthony’s dark eyes. “Shit. I didn’t even think about that.” He chewed his lip. “I got it. Here, take mine.”

“What? Your shoes? Bro, that’s—”

“Just do it. I can’t stay. Sergio’s waiting for me, and we gotta go get ready for later.”

There he and Anthony stood, trading shoes in the middle of Times Square, and not a single person stopped to look or paid them any attention. Nothing shocked anyone in New York City, and this proved it. Not that he should be surprised—Times Square had The Naked Cowboy, drag queens, a man with a giant python on his shoulders, and assorted people dressed up—or not dressed, in some cases. Two men exchanging footwear was low on any tourist’s list of “Bizarre Things We Saw Last Night at the Crossroads of the World.”

Nico slipped his feet into Anthony’s loafers. “These are nice. I should get me a pair.”

“Yeah, you should. Class up your act.”

“Thanks, man. I-I don’t know what to say. Appreciate it. And make sure you tell Sergio thanks.” Again, he was surprised and touched by the support from Sergio, considering his less than enthusiastic response to him and Anthony dating. Showed how wrong first impressions could be.

“I will. Call me tomorrow. I wanna hear all about it.”

“I promise.”

They hugged, and Anthony ran to the train, while Nico returned to the office, hoping Carlos hadn’t left yet. He banged on the door.

“Carlos? You there?”

At the shuffle of footsteps, he heaved a sigh of relief. The door opened. “Didn’t you leave?”

“Listen. I don’t have time. I gotta change.” He rushed past Carlos to the bathroom.

“What’s up? You got a hot date or something?”

He stripped and took out the shirt, ripping off the tags. Plain white, no problem. Buttoned it up, found the tie. Blue flowers, not his style, no big deal. He put it on quickly and pulled out the suit. Dark gray, and Anthony was right. It fit like a dream.

“Anthony, you done good,” he muttered as he stuck his feet into the loafers. He stuffed his pants and shirt into the bags and ran out to where Carlos stood. “I gotta leave this here till my next shift.”

“I can’t guarantee nothin’.”

“Whatever.” Nico wrote his name on a sticky note, stuck it on the bag, and shoved the whole thing into the bottom drawer of the desk. “Thanks, man.”

“Lookit you!” Carlos whistled, and Nico’s cheeks grew hot.

“I gotta get across town. Thanks for waiting.”

“Have a good one.”

Nico raced to the street and had no problem finding a cab. Traffic was a horrendous snarl, and it cost him a small fortune in taxi fare, but he made it to The Pierre with five minutes to spare before the cocktail thing was about to start. He took a second outside to catch his breath and settle his nerves.

Steady as he’d ever be, Nico walked inside and stood in the lobby, drinking in the space. It was as elegant as he’d imagined—all hushed and clean, with crystal chandeliers and marble floors. Intimidated, he discreetly wiped his sweaty hands on his jacket.

“This ain’t no Holiday Inn, that’s for sure,” he murmured. He walked up to a desk marked Concierge. A man in a suit that probably cost more than he made in a week glanced up.

“May I help you?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m lookin’ for the, uh, doctors’ dinner? There’s a cocktail party first?” He didn’t remember the name of the ballroom and pulled out his phone. “The Cotillion room?”

He had no idea what a fucking cotillion was.

The man’s perfectly groomed brows rose, and Nico braced for a confrontation, but he answered pleasantly. “Yes. Take the elevators on the left to the second floor.”

“Okay, thanks.”

With that accomplished, he stood outside a large ballroom, staring at a sea of men in suits and women in cocktail dresses. How the hell would he find Ford?

“Marone a mia, you’re a dumbass.” Nico could’ve slapped himself on the head. “Text him and tell him you’re here.” He found Ford’s number and sent him a message.

A man in a tuxedo approached him with a sour face. “I’m sorry, but this is a private event.”

Nico smiled. “Yeah, I know. I’m meeting someone here.”

“Oh? Who?”

Bristling at the man’s obnoxious tone, Nico remembered he was at The Pierre hotel, not Canarsie Pier, and couldn’t tell the guy off. Even though the douche could use a punch to his pinched-in face.

“Dr. Ford St. Claire.” He spied Ford making his way through the crowd. “Who’s right there.” He waved, and Ford rushed over to him.

“You made it. What happened? I thought you had to work tonight?”

“Dr. St. Claire, you invited this person?” the walking dickhead asked.

“Yes, why? Is there a problem? The invitation said ‘and guest.’ This person is Mr. Nico Andretti, and he is my guest.” One hand resting on Nico’s shoulder, Ford waited for a response.

At Ford’s haughty tone—which Nico had to admit was a big fucking turn-on—the dickhead wilted. “No, not a problem at all. We just have to make sure no one is trying to come in who doesn’t belong. Enjoy your evening.” He slunk away.

“Asshole,” Nico muttered. “Probably going to look for someone else’s night to ruin.”

“Never mind him.” Ford met his eyes, and Nico forgot about the rude jerk and everything else except the heat in Ford’s gaze. “I’m really glad you’re here, Nico. This night just got a whole lot better.”

“Yeah. For me too.”