Desperate Lovers by Adam Carpenter (good beach reads TXT) 📕

at him, mesmerized by the way the morning light streaming in from the window to illuminate beads of sweat on Sawyer’s forehead. He had no doubts whatsoever. This was “the guy.” Dane had known that from the moment they’d met. In a straight bar, of all places. At the time, Sawyer had been in a relationship with another man. That had ended quickly. Maybe Sawyer sensed that they were supposed to be together too. Now if only their respective careers—Sawyer’s in the flighty and sex-saturated fashion industry and his own in online porn—didn’t derail what they had together.

They were young, as their neighbor Jack was often quick to point out, as though that meant that this couldn’t possibly last. Dane was determined to beat the odds.

Their reverie was interrupted by a series of electronic chirps that demanded attention. Before either man could move, a second electronic source began playing a club version of Katy Perry’s “I Kissed A Girl.”

Dane and Sawyer leaped from the bed in opposite directions to grab their cell phones.

“Hello?” they answered in unison, looking at one another with a smile.

“Max!” Sawyer identified his caller for Dane’s benefit.

Dane returned the courtesy. “Hi, Mario. Que pasa?”

The business conversations were brief, though nowhere near as satisfying as the “business” they had just finished. As they spoke, stumbling around the bedroom in search of their clothes, Dane couldn’t help but marvel at how Sawyer could cradle his cell phone and manage to dress at the same time. He guessed that models were experts at getting into (and out of) clothes, even with a maximum of distraction. Dane himself had to put his phone down on the dresser and call out “uh-huhs” to Mario as he awkwardly pulled on one sock, then the other.

“Yes, Max. I hear you.” Sawyer glanced at Dane and winked at him. “I’ve got it. 12:40 flight to Los Angeles. But what’s the big surprise?”

He rolled his eyes indicting that Max Melbourne, his agent, was being a pain in the ass this morning. “Okay, fine, you can tell me later.”

Dane watched his boyfriend roll a t-shirt over his delectable torso and then silently motion to his wristwatch. Picking up on the cue, Dane interrupted Mario’s daily checkin and ended the call, promising to call his business partner back shortly.

“Yes, Max, I’m leaving now.” Sawyer terminated his call as well, and turned to hug Dane. “How’s Big Mario?”

“You mean Nervous Nellie? He’s fine. He calls every morning just to vent. Did I hear you mention a surprise?”

Sawyer shrugged. “You know Max. Everything is a big deal.

He says he has a surprise but he won’t tell me over the phone. I’m sure I’ll hear about it at the festival.” Sawyer had been working out and dieting all week for the Beverly Hills Fashion Festival, a lavish, daylong extravaganza for fashion designers and their retailers. He looked himself over in the mirror, scrutinizing the state of his physique, and then noticed his naked image, frozen on the flat screen at the point the video had been paused. “You probably should erase that.”

“I know.”

It was all-too-common for celebrity sex videos to get out and find their way into the public eye. That would be particularly bad for Sawyer because a large part of his success was the mystique of being a straight man in an industry where many weren’t. He didn’t want to lose that edge.

Dane teased, “Could you imagine your mother coming for a visit and accidentally turning this on? She’d flip!” That was an understatement.

Sawyer wasn’t out to either of his parents, who strongly disapproved of homosexuals. Especially, Diana Block—the church lady, as Dane called her.

Five minutes later, Sawyer rushed through the kitchen, two travel bags in hand, just as Dane finished making coffee. “Breakfast?”

“Thanks. I’ll drink it as I drive. If I miss my flight, Max’ll kill me.”

“Cream?”

“Yes, I did.” That made Dane laugh. “But I could use a little more sugar.” Sawyer stepped forward and kissed his lover. It was a long kiss that would have to last them a day or two. When they parted, sorrow clouded both men’s eyes.

Then Sawyer looked away, breaking the spell. His gaze fell on a strange old photo on the counter. “What’s that?”

“Not sure. I found it in the back of the attic yesterday.” Dane had been cleaning the third floor of the house, prepping it for use as a makeshift office/film studio. “There was a small box of photos and letters.”

Sawyer examined the black and white photo. Two men sat conspicuously close together on a fallen tree trunk. On the back was written in faded ink: “G & G, Summer 1961.”

“You think they’re brothers?”

Dane looked at the photo. He’d examined it several times since finding it. “I don’t think so. There’s no resemblance. Think they’re lovers?” He pointed with his finger. “Look how their hands almost touch.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you just see the gay in every guy.”

Dane slapped Sawyer’s ass as he moved to the door. “Says the gay ‘straight’ man. Good luck in L.A.”

The model flashed a dazzling smile as he threw his bags in the back of the car. “Be safe.”

As he watched Sawyer drive off, Dane’s eyes wandered along the handful of houses that made up their neighborhood. Some of the guys were congregating on the front porch of Number Five Eldon Court. The daily coffee klatch hosted by newcomer Marc Anderson. Dane grabbed his coffee cup, and, as an afterthought, tucked the photograph of “G&G” under his arm before heading out.

The air that morning carried a bit of a chill and the same strong ocean smell that hung heavy during the winter. Dane stopped halfway across the street, wondering whether his t-shirt and sweats were enough to keep him warm. At least he should probably put something more substantial on his feet than his trusty sandals. Still, the coffee was hot, and he wasn’t expecting to socialize for long. He had a ton of stuff to do.

The usual suspects were present: Marc, Paolo, and Edgar. Or as

Marc put it, the “Wonderland Wives.” Dane wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that. He was