5. Paul

At the time,accepting Roth's offer to hit the waves had seemed innocent enough.

What I hadn't banked on was seeing him exiting his room an hour after we'd sipped our last cup of strong, rich coffee in a pumpkin-colored outfit that had me hard in a second. He'd wrapped some sort of billowy material around his lean waist, a wispy thing that showed off the tiny little boy short swimsuit underneath. The boy shorts left nothing to the imagination. I mean nothing. His pert ass and package were cuddled by orange spandex that matched a skimpy bikini-style top. My mouth went dry as he fiddled around with securing a hat to Amadeus's head, bending over in the corridor, his big beach bag and massive straw hat lying on the floor beside his teensy feet. I had to make spit to swallow so I could speak.

"Need a hand?" I called, my voice raspy, as I quickly adjusted myself. He glanced back and around, smiling brightly. "With anything?"

"No, thank you." He tied the hat under Amadeus's chin. I had to say that dog was a patient little pup. Obviously, he was used to being dressed up like a baby doll. "We just needed a last-minute adjustment." Roth scooped up the dog and then scowled at the mound of stuff by his feet. "Okay, I lied. Can you grab our beach accoutrements?"

"Sure." I rushed over to help, picking up a light orange scent as I drew nearer. "Did you forget shoes?"

"Nope, they're in my bag. I did a quick pedicure while we were changing and my nails needed a few minutes more."

Of course he had. He wiggled his little toes, now all painted bright orange. I glanced at Amadeus and yep, his nails had been painted too.

"No wonder it took you thirty minutes to make a five-minute clothing change." I shouldered the big bag with smiling suns on it, then plunked his hat on his pink head.

"Oh, that's nothing. You'll get used to me taking four times as long as I say I will," he glibly tossed out as we began our walk to the elevator. He hit the brakes so quickly that I nearly ran up his back. He whipped around to stare up at me, brown-green eyes round. "Not that I'm saying that you'll be around me long enough to know that I always take too long to get ready and am generally always at least fashionably, if not rudely late."

He bit down on a plump lower lip that was glossy and pink. I wanted to nip that lip myself. Actually, I wanted to do lots more as well…

"I didn't think that at all," I truthfully answered. He blew out a breath of relief.

"Oh good. I always say things I wish I hadn't later. My mouth kicks in and off I go like a greyhound! I'm not sure where I get this jabber jaw personality quirk from to be honest, but I like to think that I have so many thoughts and ideas inside my head that they just tumble out as soon as I open my mouth. Like gumballs out of a machine. You know when you feed it a penny and give it a crank, expecting only one gumball, but for some reason you get four hundred? They fly all over the floor, bouncing little rainbow balls, and people walking into the barber shop—because they always have gumball machines in barber shops—step on them, and WOOSH! Down to their asses they go as you try to catch the flood of gumballs in your hands then realize that's not working so you use your hat but the gumballs keep coming and the barber is yelling at you to stop it but you have no control over the gumball flood."

I stared down at him as he tapped the button for the elevator. "That sounded like an oddly specific gumball story," I stated, his bag weighing heavily on my shoulder.

"Oh, yes, that happened to me when I was a wee lad. I wasn't allowed back into that barber shop, so my mother decided to cut my hair at home. We call the years that followed ‘the dark times' for in my school pictures I looked like a twelfth-century monk who had just recovered from the plague. Until I hit high school and then I started sneaking cuts at a nearby beauty salon that was accepting of little gay boys who liked to feel pretty. I told my family that one of my friends at school was trimming my hair."

The silver doors slid open. I had a million questions but couldn't ask them here or now. "We'll do our best to keep clear of gumball machines," I assured him and got a blinding grin in return. Stepping into the elevator, I sneakily pulled his tote around to hide my massive erection. Yeah, it was going to be a long day on the beach for my dick.

* * *

The prognostication about my prick and the never-ending beach day was right on the money.

Thankfully, Roth seemed to be blissfully unaware of how hard my cock was all day long. He and Amadeus were huge hits at the beach, skipping into and out of the water with squeals and yips that he was recording and posting to his social media. The dynamic duo was surrounded by the wives of hockey players all day long. I barely got a word in edgewise as he flitted from one blanket to the next, chatting up people that I would have normally assumed would shun him. Not one athlete here treated him unkindly. Now, perhaps, that was because their girlfriends and wives were gushing over Roth and Amadeus. I did get some long, confused glances from a few of the guys but that I could handle. I'd dealt with much worse when I'd come out to the world a few years ago. My father had been adamantly against me announcing my gayness to everyone on the planet, and I'd obeyed his dictates for as long as I could. In the end, the need to be myself—or a small part of myself—had won out, and I'd done the dirty deed. His fury had been unparalleled. To this day, I swear the only reason he speaks to me is out of some vague promise he made to my mother when she passed. What that was I didn't know for he would never clarify it other than to say that his pledge to her was the only thing that kept me in his will.

"Hi, oh my gosh!" Roth arrived in front of me, blocking out the sun baking me. "You're going to burn like a radish. Did you see how many likes my last post got on Insta?!" He sat down beside me, wiggling back under the huge umbrella he insisted we rent to shield his white as cottage cheese ass—his words not mine. I'd call his skin flawless ivory marble. "Get your bulky bear butt back in the shade. My goodness, have you never heard the word carcinoma?"

"I'm fine," I said but did wiggle back into the shade so he would stop giving me a squinty look of reproach. "So you got a lot of likes?"

"Yes, oodles. And I just checked the orders at my store and there are ten. Ten!" His phone pinged. He yanked it from the pocket of his orange sarong and beamed at me. "Twelve! Oh my gods, I love hockey wives!"

His excitement was adorable. "I'm glad you're getting some sales from this trip."

"You're the best, I swear it." He laid his phone down on his thigh, the various funny little queer stickers shouting that he was gay, would be gayer if he could, and love was love were coated with a fine coating of sand. Just like his hairless thigh was. That needed to be brushed off before it got into his boy shorts and rubbed his balls raw. "Amadeus, come get a drink."

The dog padded over, tongue lolling, and lapped up some cool water from a thermos lid. "Did you see that your PA and her wife are here?"

I hadn't noticed. Then again, my attention had been on Roth for the past few hours. Yes, the sea was lovely, the palm trees graceful, and the people entertaining, but all of that paled in comparison to this bouncy man in the tangerine swimwear. Or was the color pumpkin? I had no clue. It was orange. That was about all I knew and it fit him perfectly.

"No, I must have missed them," I replied while Amadeus made circles on the blanket Roth had packed and then spread over the hot sand.

"They're right over yonder. I stopped by to visit when you were napping." He pulled out some sunscreen and sprayed his bare arms.

"I napped?"

"Mm-hmm. About an hour ago. Dee and I took a dip in the waves. Laura, who does not like the ocean ever since she saw Jaws at a tender age, stayed on the beach with Amadeus." He chatted away as he coated his arms. "She said that you always nap after lunch. That it's something to do with resting your body before a game. I suppose that's a habit that sets in, which is awesome. It's good to rest. I mean, your body is incredible and so toned that I'd never think you'd have to nap. I've never seen such a firm set of abs! All hard and covered with sexy little red curls that I want to run my fingers?—"

His eyes flew from his sunblock application to me. Now I was kind of glad that I'd opted to wear the better fitting swim trunks. They were just basic trunks, nothing bright or flashy, but well-fitted. Finding pants, shorts, or trunks off the rack was a problem for skaters. We had huge bubble butts. A lot of my clothing had to be tailor made to fit well over my backside.

"Oops. That wasn't supposed to come out. Pretend I stopped talking after the ‘you always nap after lunch' comment." His cheeks were bright red now and not from the sun.

"I kind of like how you let things slip," I confessed and dared to rub my sandy hand over his equally sandy calf. His gaze dropped to my hand, then came back to my face. He wet his lips, his eyes growing lazy and languid.

"Yeah?" he asked, leaning closer to me. My dick, which had been resting like a good boy in my trunks, woke up as I stared at those slick lips of his.

"Yeah," I breathlessly answered as I gave in to the pull.

"Hey hi! Oh sorry, were you two having a cute moment?" I jerked back from Roth as three women, all curvy and leggy and in tiny little bikinis, knelt down in the sand. "I'm Stacey. I'm engaged to Francois Galthie. I saw on my friend Mandy's IG that you make matching outfits for dogs and their owners?" Roth nodded, his sight flicking to me as if to apologize. "Awesome! I have two Corgis at home, and Leah here has a chubby Chihuahua, and Kim has three little pugs. Can we pull you away from your boyfriend for like ten minutes to talk about placing an order?"

"Go, get those orders. I'll be here." I grinned at the girls and then at Roth.

"Okay, ten minutes tops," he swore, then was dragged off to the outdoor bar to talk business. I glanced at Amadeus. "You're going to be the top doggie model for beachwear soon." He yawned and gave his tail a quick wag before falling back to sleep.

"Mind if I join you?" I squinted up to see Dee standing before me. She looked amazing in a yellow one-piece. I patted the space recently vacated by Roth. She took a seat, gave Amadeus a scritch atop his curly head, and then focused on me. It was one of her otherworldly scrutinizing looks. The kind that she used when trying to see your very soul. "Are you mad at me?"

I let my lids drop down for a moment, then slowly shook my head before looking her way. "I was never mad at you. Just shocked that you took such liberties." She had the good grace to appear a little chagrined. Not much, but a tiny bit. "But mostly it was me trying to deal with this…"

My sight flew to the bar where Roth was now surrounded by women and a few men. Why were there guys talking to him? Were they there to order a sarong and hat dog-and-mom-combo or there to try to pick up my date?

"Wow, good thing we're not on the ice or gloves would have been dropped," Dee teased, yanking me from the men chatting up Roth. I had no clue what she was talking about. "Oh please, don't play that game with me. Your face changed from this dreamy la-la look to crush, kill, and destroy in a hot second."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't be silly. I was just wondering why there were men over there talking to Roth." Did I not make it obvious enough when we arrived that the man in orange was with me? Damn. Maybe I'd have to be more demonstrative when we went out to eat. Just to make sure that—"Sorry, what?"

"I said that eye rolling is not the comeback you think it is. Also, he's allowed to talk to men. You don't own him."

"I'm paying for him," I snapped, unfamiliar with this raw, possessive—"Ah!" I yelped when cold water was poured over my head.

"Simmer down, Tarzan. Also, to reiterate, you might be paying for his company, but you do not own the man." I glared at her for a scant moment and exhaled loudly. "Now, can we discuss things?"

"Sorry, yes." I ran my hands over my head to push the water out of my hair. "I'm not sure what I'm feeling right now. I'm all over the place but angry at you isn't it. Confusion possibly?" She handed me a small bit of material with ties and dog bones on it. "Is this the dog's bib?"

"Just dry off with it," she remarked, sitting back into Roth's beach chair and kicking her feet up so that just the tips of her toes were in the sun. A couple ran past, hand-in-hand, looking quite in love. "I've been worried about you. I wanted to call you a dozen times last night and this morning, but Laura told me to give you space."

"She was right. I did need some time to dissect some really old and ugly shit. You have a very wise wife. So different from you." I ducked the next dousing with a laugh. "I didn't mean it that way," I said once she lowered the water bottle. "I meant that you and Laura are so different in so many ways. How the hell do you make it work?"

Dee glanced over at her wife walking along the shore, hand on her straw hat, kicking at the foamy surf.

"She's incredibly patient," Dee said as she adored her wife from afar.

"So, totally different, just like I said." That got me a look. "I'm not sure what the hell is happening to me. Roth is just…I've never been with a man like him. He's this wild spring wind, you know? The raucous kind that rips across the yard when the snow has finally given up its hold on the earth. He's warm and fresh and he brings color in his wake."

"Wow, Mr. Poetic Hockey Phenom," she teased. "Who would have guessed it? I know that I sometimes get a little ahead of myself."

"Sometimes?"

"Fine, quite often, which is another reason Laura and I are good business partners. I'm the mover and shaker and she's the reserved plotter behind the scenes. Setting up our own sports rep firm was the best thing I ever did, other than marry her, obviously."

"Obviously." I reached up to tilt the umbrella so it would cover Amadeus completely.

Dee sighed heavily, her shoulders softening as her sight stayed on her spouse. "I guess the thing is that sometimes we have to do those really scary things. For me, it was letting down my guard enough to let Laura all the way in. Do not say something dirty."

"Me? Mr. Boring as Corn Flakes? Say something dirty?" My gaze floated back to Roth at the bar. Was the guy buying him a drink? I sat up straighter and then flopped back when I saw the drink being handed to one of now eight or so women talking at or to Roth. It was hard to say, but Roth seemed to be merrily typing away on his phone. He snuck a peek my way, smiled, and then went back to taking orders. "I think I really like him, Dee."

"Yeah, we could tell from way over there that you two were snapping like…I don't know, two snapping turtles. I'm not a romantic poet like you." I snorted at that. I was many things, but a romantic poet was certainly not one of them. "I'm just really glad you're breaking free of the shit your father filled your head with. He's not a good man, Paul."

No, he's not. I knew that. He'd balked at my hiring Dee because he didn't think I would be taken seriously being a queer with a Black woman representing me. Christ. Why had it taken me this long to finally throw off the shackles? How old did a man have to be to stop craving that which he was never going to get no matter how hard he strived? I guess for Paul Rocha, it took thirty-eight years.

"Thank you for being so pushy," I said after a long, pleasant silence.

"Any time. And thank you for being so kind about my little bit of meddling." I cocked an eyebrow. "Fine, maybe more than a little, but in all fairness, all I did was answer a few questions for Elite and they did the rest. I'm not sure how they pair up people. Algorithms? Crystal ball? Sprinkling the bones of their enemies on a mystical fire on a foggy moor? No clue, all I do know is that they know their shit. My wife and I being a prime example as well as you and Roth hitting it off so well."

"I'm not mad at your meddling. It seems as if it worked out well. Did I mention I really like him?" She nodded happily, then let her head drop to my shoulder. I bent to give her soft, short hair a kiss. Sometimes a thank you and an acknowledgment that you were a confused putz who was trying to get his shit together was all that was needed between two friends. Sometimes a hard shove from that good friend was also required.