12. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Tyler

"Just dinner. Maybe cake to celebrate your birthday? My mom's a great cook, and maybe she can teach us some recipes. Nothing formal, I promise. You in? There's a huge reason, I believe, to celebrate that you were born."

I buried my face in his neck and nipped, bringing a groan from Mosby. It would take some time to get used to his real name, but I was thrilled he trusted me enough to tell me the truth.

To be honest, art wasn't anything I knew much about. I wasn't sophisticated like other folks who loved it because my art education was limited. It wasn't anyone's fault, it just was.

Seeing the picture of me in his studio had taken my breath away. Sitting on the stool so he could get my eyes the way he wanted in the painting had been a rush, but I hadn't wanted to sound like a na?ve little dimwit, so I'd kept my mouth shut and let the man do what he wanted.

"Mmmm. As much as I'm enjoying this, I need to take you home. Do you work tomorrow? Do you want to do something when you finish?" Yes, and please!

"Yeah. I work until six tomorrow night and close the shop. The cleaning crew comes through overnight on Saturday and does the deep clean, so I only need to empty trash and clean out the fridge. I can be ready by six thirty. I wish you didn't have to come get me. Maybe I can get Mom to bring me?" I hated that I couldn't have a driver's license, but Mosby knew why, and he didn't seem put off by it.

"I'll be there at six and help you. Maybe we can order from that pizza place between Foggy Basin and Miller's Point? I've picked up pizza from there before, and it's damn good." Mosby flipped around and picked me up, making me laugh as I latched onto his neck to keep from falling .

"I'm a pizza snob, so it better be good." I giggled again as Mosby popped me on the butt with his right hand and tossed me over his shoulder to carry me to the door. It was the sexiest thing that had ever happened to me.

It was April in Northern California, and we were going through a dry spell. A few ski areas near Mount Shasta were still open, but our small mountain was dry and warm during the day. It was still cool in the evenings here and there, but the trees were budding, and it wouldn't take long before everything would come to life. It had been years since I'd seen the mountain in spring.

Mosby opened the back door for a second before he took my coat off the hook. "This is the only coat you have?"

"I have a parka for the winter, but it's April. The weather changes fast. This is my spring coat. It's fine." He shook his head and grabbed a cotton scarf from a coat tree, wrapping it around my neck after I slid on my sneakers. He held my coat up for me, and I pushed my arms inside.

"Zip up." He put on his loafers and grabbed his leather jacket from the hook, slipping it on. He closed the doors of the fireplace and grabbed his keys.

"Ready?" He zipped my jacket all the way up and adjusted the scarf. It was absolutely the sweetest thing anyone had done for me since I was a little boy .

"I am. Thank you for the fantastic evening. I had a very good time."

"Great first date: check!" Mosby made the checkmark sign with his finger, and my heart pounded. It was wonderful to hear him say it had been a date.

He ushered me out the door and held my hand. He led me to the truck and opened the passenger side door, closing it once I was inside.

Jogging around the front of his Bronco, Mosby hopped in and quickly started the truck. "It heats up pretty quickly."

"Do you miss Alistaire?" I wanted to smack myself in the mouth for saying the words out loud. I'd been wondering about their connection since I'd heard about the man, all the while knowing it really wasn't my business.

Mosby backed up the hill to turn around in his driveway. "Not really, but it's taken a while. I let guilt make me believe Alistaire and I were madly in love, but the truth was any affection we had for each other died a while before his death. We'd tried to rekindle it when I went to New York with him, or so I thought, but it was just him setting the stage for his exit—that sounds cold. I mean for him to leave me, not kill himself. I think we were just too lazy to untangle it until he met Tariq. "

When we got to the bottom of the hill, I unbuckled my seatbelt. "How do I open the padlock on the chain? You know, if someone really wanted to get in, they'd probably be able to cut the lock."

He laughed. "It's a combination lock. Four-three-two-one. I don't think anyone would try to break in, but they won't find shit if they do. It's there to keep my shrew of an agent out if she ever hunts me down. She would never figure out how to work a combination lock. I do appreciate your concern. Will you worry about me now?" Mosby turned to me and batted his eyelashes.

I laughed and opened the gate for him, closing it after he drove through. I hopped back into the Bronco and once I buckled my seatbelt, we were off.

We listened to soft R&B music on the way to Foggy Basin. Mosby turned down the alley behind the salon and parked in the delivery bay. He turned off the Bronco, and I wasn't sure what to do.

Mosby grabbed me around the waist and pulled me closer. "Back in the day when I was in high school, we made out in the car a little bit before we said goodnight."

I giggled. "Were you dating guys or girls?"

Mosby nuzzled into my neck. "Both. I am not a gold-star gay. Back in high school, I believed I was bisexual and dated girls because I thought I'd disappoint my parents if I didn't. Damn, you smell good."

His beard tickled, but I wouldn't say a word. I worried I'd combust if he kept it up, but it was a chance I was willing to take. Mosby's lips on my neck, teasing little nibbles up the side and behind my ear, gave me goosebumps.

"It's just my shampoo. Was there a special girl?"

The handsome man stopped what he was doing—which made me sad—and pulled away from me to look into my eyes. "Okay. There was a girl named Sandy. She was a cheerleader, and she had big boobs, which did nothing for me, but the other guys were jealous. We played out the typical teenage cliché and had sex on prom night of my junior year. I faked it. I had a hard time keeping up appearances, but I suspect she faked it too. I ended up dating her ex-boyfriend the summer after high school graduation. We bonded over the fact that Sandy had no gaydar." He chuckled, which did funny things to my insides.

"You heartbreaker. Why did you break up?" Obviously, he wasn't still with her. It was a safe question, I figured.

"Sandy went into the Navy after graduation, while I went to college at UC-Berkeley. My parents died in a car accident during my second year of undergrad, but I stayed in school. I met Alistaireat a gallery in West Hollywood. We moved in together a month later. I don't know what happened to Sandy."

Mosby raised an eyebrow as he stared into my eyes, the light over the back door illuminating the cab of the Bronco. "Now you. You said no boyfriend, but did you fool around with a cute boy under the football bleachers?"

My turn to laugh. "No. As I said, the boys in my school weren't exactly to my liking. I guess I was holding out for a sexy older guy who's mature but still knows how to have fun."

"Ha! Touché!" With that, he kissed me so hotly that my toes curled in my sneakers. His tongue made two passes over my lips before my brain kicked in and I opened to accept him inside.

He tasted like the pasta we'd shared, but thankfully, my mouth was the same. We played a little cat and mouse, his tongue dipping into my mouth and moving away to lead mine into his. My dick pushed against the zipper of my skinny jeans, making me pleasantly uncomfortable.

When we broke the kiss, I pulled away, breathless. "Do you wanna come up?"

His eyes studied me before he smiled. "That's very tempting, but I need to get home. I have some things to do tomorrow. Can I get a raincheck for tomorrow night? I'll bring underwear this time, I promise. "

I cracked up, and Mosby chuckled with me. Once I calmed, I placed a soft kiss on his lips. "Deal. Thank you again for the wonderful evening. Be safe going home."

Mosby opened his door and got out, extending his hand to me. I slid behind the wheel and hopped out. He led me to the stairs, climbing slowly. "When you go inside, lock the door and put that gorgeous ass right to bed. Text me tomorrow and tell me what toppings you want on your pizza, and I'll pick it up on my way here."

He then wrapped me in his arms and kissed me again. It was a proper goodnight kiss, based on what I'd seen on television. As he pulled away, his hands gently squeezed my ass cheeks. "I'll see you tomorrow night at six. Sweet dreams."

I floated into the apartment, locked the door as he'd instructed, and went to bed. That night, my dreams were saccharine-sweet.

Friday morning, I awoke in a panic. I knew the fundamentals of sex between men, but I needed a bit more detailed information. Porn on the internet wasn't helpful because it showed nothing about what should happen before the couple fucked. It started with sex most of the time, and that wasn't helpful in my situation.

There was no way I could talk to my mother about anything of the sort, nor could I ask any of the women at the shop, though I was being sexist with my assumption that none of them would have a clue of the preparation required for anal sex. I really didn't want to know if they knew or not.

I got up, showered, and dressed. I had my weekly call with my therapist that I'd nearly forgotten, and when I hung up, I felt fantastic.

I went downstairs and unlocked the salon, checking that the supplies at everyone's station were filled and ready for business. I put on the coffee and checked that we had creamers. I quickly ran to the grocery store next door to pick up cucumbers and lemons for the waters we offered. I then swung by the wine aisle and picked a bottle of cabernet, not that I really knew anything about wine, but I was sure it was probably more Mosby's taste than beer. I then proceeded to the checkout to see Mr. Willis with his usual frown.

"Good morning, Mr. Willis." I was flying too high for the man to bring me down.

"Tyler. That man you were in here with yesterday, what's his name?" Mr. Willis's voice had an innate bitterness to it. How old was he when it started sounding like that?

Now I had a dilemma on my hands. I didn't lie. After being in prison, I knew how much trouble lying could get me in, but Mosby had told me he was hiding out. I'd never break his confidence, so I'd tap-dance around the truth.

"Leslie. His name is Leslie, why?" See, not a lie.

"I'm going to talk to Sheriff West about him. I think he's trouble. The sheriff needs to investigate him. Where does he live? You shouldn't be keeping company with another felon."

That was worrisome. I did my best to steer clear of the sheriff for obvious reasons, but I was sure Mosby wouldn't want Sheriff West looking into his background either. "I don't know where he lives, but I think it's best if we both mind our own business."

I paid him and grabbed my purchases, not needing a bag. I stormed out of the store and took the wine up to my place, shoving it into the fridge before I went to the shop. Mom was on the phone as I stomped to the kitchen and began angrily chopping cucumbers. I put them in the large pitcher and filled it with filtered water.

I placed the cucumber water in the refrigerator and began slicing lemon for the other pitcher. Why did people think it was okay to get into everyone's business? I'd spent the last six months of my freedom being talked down to by people like Mr. Willis. I was damn sick and tired of it.

Mom came into the kitchen. "Good morning, sweetheart. How are you today?" She pecked a kiss on my cheek, and then she stopped. "What's wrong? Your energy is off."

I wanted to smile, but I was too pissed. "Mr. Willis is a douchebag." I tried to be a nice person, but sometimes it was impossible.

"That stupid old man. What did he say?"

I put the knife down and turned, seeing her concern. She'd been so happy when she left the previous evening. I didn't want to ruin her mood too.

"Nothing new. So, uh, I have a favor. Remember Leslie? The guy who tripped on the step?"

Mom nodded. "He doesn't have a residual issue related to the fall, does he?"

I poured Mom a cup of coffee. "No, no. He's really nice. We hung out together last night, and I found out his birthday was a few weeks ago, and he didn't celebrate. I was thinking maybe we could make him dinner tomorrow night, and you could help me make him a birthday cake. I'll get the groceries for it if you'll help me."

Mom smiled, and I was happy to see it. She'd always been my ray of sunshine, and it was a relief my fuck up hadn't dimmed her light .

"Based on what you just said about George, I better get the groceries. I'm assuming you want to have him over to my place, right?" I nodded.

"Okay. What time tomorrow night? I only have one appointment at noon, so I can get the groceries in the morning, and we can make the cake tomorrow afternoon."

I kissed her cheek. "Thank you, Mom." The bell over the front door rang, and our day began, but I had wonderful things to look forward to for the weekend. It had been a long time since I'd been excited about anything.

At lunchtime, I walked down the block to Blue Star Diner, and while I ate the best roast beef of my life, I decided to make a call I was dreading. On and off all morning, I'd been doing research regarding anal intercourse, and I'd worked myself into a damn panic. I was sure if I told Mosby I wasn't ready, he'd be sweet about it and agree, but damn, I was ready. It was just the mechanics of it that was freaking me out.

I returned to the salon early and went out to the alley. I sat in the lawn chair, dialing Ramon's number. It rang twice. "Hey, Tyler. How are you, man?"

Friday the truck was in Miller's Point, so it wasn't as if I could go talk to him in person. "I'm good, Ramon. Do you have a minute to talk, or are you in the middle of the lunch rush? "

"No, I'm good, mi amigo. What's up? Oh, German looked for you on social media to leave a review, but he couldn't find your profile anywhere."

I wasn't on social media because I didn't want any of the guys that I'd known in prison to find me. I didn't think I'd done anything they'd retaliate for, but one could never be too cautious.

"Yeah, uh, I'll keep that in mind. Can I talk to you about something kind of embarrassing?"

It was suddenly quiet on Ramon's end of the line. "Sure. I just walked away from the truck. What's up? You okay?"

I chuckled. "I'm panicked. I, uh, I'm a virgin." I waited to get his reaction to that information.

"Good for you. You waited for someone special to take that step with. It's not a bad thing, Tyler."

That was reassuring to hear. "No, I know that. The issue is, I've found that guy. He's incredible. He's funny. He's kind. He treats me like I'm important, so I believe he's special, and I want to take that step with him. I just don't know how."

Silence. The heat rose up my chest to the top of my head in record time. I was sure I was glowing.

"Okay, explain a little more, please. I want to answer your questions. I just don't know if I'm the right person. "

"I, uh, I'm sorry. This was a mistake." I started to hang up, but…

"Wait. German, babe."

I put the phone back to my ear and walked to the end of the alley, staring into space. People everywhere fucked. It couldn't be that hard to figure it out, right?

"Hello?" It wasn't Ramon.

"German? How's your hair? Any complaints?"

"Not at all, Tyler. I wanted to ask if you have business cards or if it's okay if I just give out your cell number? Oh, should I give them the number for Shear Bliss?"

I responded with a nervous giggle. There were other people who wanted me to cut their hair? That seemed like a dream.

"Oh, uh, I don't have a business card yet. You can go ahead and give them my cell number. I don't have a book, so I'm making my own appointments right now."

"Oh, cool. Let me know if it's too much. I have a lot of family, and when I told them about the— Uh, what? Oh? Oh! Alright. So, uh, Tyler, I'm sorry. What can I explain to you? Ramon told me you have some questions. I'll tell you everything I can."

Tears filled my eyes. I sobbed, hard. I wasn't sure if it was embarrassment or gratitude. "I, uh, I don't want to disappoint the guy I'm interested in. I've never had sex before, and I have no"— sob! —"idea what I'm doing." I felt stupid.

"Where are you?" German sounded worried.

"I'm not driving or anything. I'm on my break. I'm sitting behind the salon. I'm sorry. You're probably really busy. I shouldn't have bothered you guys."

"No, no. What time do you finish work?"

"We close at six. My boyfriend—I mean, the guy I'm seeing—is coming here at six."

"Okay, well we finish here at three and cleanup takes an hour. I'll drop by at four-thirty, and we'll talk. I mean, if you can get away for a few minutes. I promise you're psyching yourself out, which won't help. Calm down, take a few breaths, and we'll talk about it at four-thirty."

"Thank you. I appreciate this. Your next trim is on me."

German laughed. "Sure. See you later."

We ended the call, and I snuck into the salon restroom. My eyes were a little puffy and red, but I had a sense of calm I hadn't expected. After I splashed cold water on my face, I barely looked like I'd been crying.

Everything was going to be just fine…or it was all going straight to hell on a rollercoaster…

The day was crazy busy with hair emergency after hair emergency.

"Is there something in the water? What are these women doing?" Camila breezed by me with a bowl of hair color for a client who had gone to Mexico with gorgeous blonde and platinum highlights and returned with a mop of pea-green straw.

I glanced at the clock to see it was ten after four. "If I put that on your client's hair, will you cover for me? I'm meeting a friend upstairs for a quick pep talk, and then I'll be back to finish the day, I swear."

Camila looked me up and down. "Is it that cute guy who fell? If you talk him into a haircut and a shave, I think you'll find a really hot guy under there. I'll cover and close for you tonight. I have nothing going on. I'll tell your mother you weren't feeling well, and I'm staying to cover for you."

I flung myself at her, nearly knocking the bowl out of her hands. "Thank you. I owe you a lot for this, Camila. Thank you so much."

She laughed and handed me the bowl, and I hurried out to her chair where the twenty-ish young woman was furiously texting on her sparkling smartphone. "Hi. I'm Tyler. I'll be applying the color to your hair. Camila mixed it. She's taking a call, but she'll be back. "

The woman glanced at me, flipped her hand, and shoved earbuds into her ear as her phone rang. I took that as a yes.

If applying corrective color was an Olympic sport, I would be proudly standing on the center platform having achieved a new world record. Once the color was applied and combed through, I put the mane up in a plastic clip and grabbed the tools to sterilize them. I quickly turned on the timer, laid it on the counter by the mirror, and hurried back to the kitchen.

"She's all set. I turned on the timer for fifteen minutes, but I think you might need to give it another round because under the top layer of highlights is a seaweed color, which leads me to believe she tried to fix it herself first and messed up the low lights."

Camila and Alice both looked at me. "What?" Did I fart?

"You know about coloring hair?"

I was a little offended. "Yeah. What? You don't think I actually went to cosmetology school? I didn't study makeup, though I know how to apply a smokey eye better than either of you. I know everything you know, and I've had over a thousand clients for the last three-and-a-half years." I looked out the window to see German parking out front. "Bye. "

I took off my apron and put it on my chair before I left. I met German on the sidewalk and directed him around to the stairs. We hurried up, and I let us inside. "Where's Ramon? He knows you're here, right?" God, I had enough of my own drama. I didn't need to start more with newlyweds.

German chuckled. "He took the truck home. He knows exactly where I am and what I'm doing. Now." German put a brown bag on the table and scooted it over to me. I stared at it for a moment like it contained a rattlesnake, and then I opened it.

I reached inside and found lube—three different kinds, which was two more than I'd ever thought about. Guys in prison used anything slick from hair conditioner to bacon grease smuggled from the kitchen in foil that you could trade for canteen snacks. Everybody had an agenda.

"Why three?" I put them on the table and pulled out a chair. German sat across from me and picked up the first one. "This is an oil-based lube. It's coconut oil and smells nice. It's great for playing around. Fingers inside, masturbation, frottage. Oil-based lubes are thicker and more viscous, but they will destroy a condom."

He put down that bottle and picked up the second. "This is a silicone-based lube. It's good to use with condoms and any toys you'd like to use except silicone. It will mess them up pretty bad, as Ramon and I learned the hard way until we did the damn research. Water-based lube is best with silicone toys, but you can use silicone lube with glass or metal toys."

As enlightening as all of it was, I had one distinct issue. "Thanks. I haven't used toys or anything. Hell, I haven't been fucked yet, which is what I hope happens tonight, so, uh…" My voice was a little harsher than I intended, but the anxiety was killing me.

I reached into the bag again and pulled out two boxes of condoms. "These I know about."

I reached into the bag and pulled out the last thing inside—a black rubber thing with a tubelike tip. I glanced at it and then lifted my eyes to German.

He offered a kind smile. "That's an enema bulb. Now, before you panic, let me dissuade you of the fear of crapping the bed. That's only happened to me about a dozen times."

My eyes grew ten times their regular size before German started cracking up. "Sorry, just a little potty humor Ramon dared me to use. So, let's talk about bodily functions."

Fifteen minutes later, I knew how poop worked—I'd never bothered to look it up because it just happened, but wow. The shit—pardon the pun—I hadn't known could have filled a series of books.

"Last thing, and I'll get out of here. Don't go too fast the first time, and if he's a good guy like you claim, he won't push you to do more than you're ready for. And you might not have an orgasm during penetration, but don't freak out. Look, Ty, it's a big step, and if you're not ready and your guy is decent, he'll wait as long as it takes. Now, use warm water in this,"—he picked up the blub thing—"and stick close to the toilet. A few good flushes, and you'll be golden if you want to go through with it." He put the bulb on the table and stared at me with a kind smile.

"Thank you, German, so much. I really appreciate your help."

He nodded. "Drop me a text tomorrow and let me know you're okay. Here's my number." He handed me a business card for the food truck with his and Ramon's numbers on it.

"And it's cool that you didn't ask, but I'll tell you. Ramon and I are verse. He's just too shy to explain things like this. His family was hard on him when he first came out, and it's still weird for them. My family, however, has been great about it. Did I tell you I grew up with two moms?"

We both laughed, and German gave me a hug. I walked him through the room and opened the door for him to leave. There, standing on my little porch, was none other than Mosby Leslie.

Shit!

No pun intended…