[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Jeremy didn't look convinced.
"One day you'll look back on this and be glad nothing ever happened between us," he said, even
if Noah himself wasn't as sure of that now as he'd been a week ago.
Then the anger melted to sadness. "Oh," Jeremy said, backing away, "you probably already have
a boyfriend, don't you? You're not in the closet are you?"
Noah refused to hide behind either of those conveniently offered outs. "No, on both counts. I like
you, that's not the problem. And I've never hidden who I was. But you've got your whole life
ahead of you. What seems right to you now won't be next month." Sadness crept in when he
realized the truth of those words. He was as far as he was going to go in life, but the sky was the
limit for Jeremy. In a few short years, homelessness, despair, and a man named Noah would all
be distant memories. There was also that fact that Noah simply couldn't bring anyone else into
his life right now. If he couldn't share his whole life, then it was best not to share it at all, and
there were certain things that a lover couldn't be trusted to understand.
Sadness filled Jeremy's face before he closed the distance and locked lips with Noah's again. Just
like before, Noah's well-intentioned resistance crumbled. When he pulled back, Jeremy said,
"You want me, you're just talking yourself out of it. Sometimes, you gotta stop thinking so hard
and just go with your heart." He turned and walked away, murmuring, "Thanks for the clothes,"
over his shoulder.
Noah listened to the retreating footsteps and, once sure Jeremy was gone, closed and locked the
door. He stroked a painfully hard erection to the memory of Jeremy's cock pressed to his leg,
lightly humping, while they kissed.
***
Jeremy didn't mention wanting Noah again, and, while subdued, he resembled his formerly
happy self enough to keep Noah from worrying too much. Maybe he'd forgotten the whole thing.
Even without the hero worship, it was getting harder and harder to be around the young brunet --
literally. Seeing the kid dressed in clothes that displayed his youthful body to full advantage was
nearly Noah's undoing. To make matters worse, the stylist Mary had suggested needed to be shot
for taking a pair of clippers, a blow-dryer, and a little gel and turning a boy with potential into a
drop-dead gorgeous creature who was even harder to resist than before.
The Angel of 13th Street - 68
Noah wasn't the only one noticing, either. Whenever they were out in public, young people of
both sexes cast admiring glances. Jeremy didn't seem to notice. He was too busy casting those
same looks at Noah when he thought no one was looking. But keeping the laundry's windows
and machines so shiny and clean meant they reflected quite well. Noah was sure he'd seen far
more than intended. Still, Jeremy was trying to behave, so credit was given where due.
Then came the morning that Jeremy trotted downstairs wearing the blue sweater and a bright
smile. Noah took one look, then spent the rest of the day hiding in his office. The next day, his
box of tissues had to be replaced.
The Angel of 13th Street - 69
Chapter Nine
Things had settled into a routine when, a few days later, a plain white envelope arrived in the
mail, addressed to Noah Everett in care of the bar. With no return address, it reminded him of the
annual, anonymous birthday cards. He was quite certain they came from the same place. Inside
was a picture of a young man leaning against a light post, his entire being screaming "cheap
hooker." On the back was written "Mark," and "corner of Fifth and Vine." Yeah, Noah could
easily understand how the kid kept getting arrested. Wearing such skimpy clothing in broad
daylight, he might as well hang a sign around his neck.
It was laughingly ironic that Willie's request was unnecessary. Then again, maybe he had known
all along. Either way, Mark's bus ticket was already bought and paid for. Noah had just that
morning worked out the final details. Now to put them into action.
When his truck pulled to the corner, Noah saw roughly a dozen scantily clad bodies of both sexes,
hoping to get an early start on the evening trade. Two, a boy and a girl, were already leaning into
a car window, negotiating a deal.
Noah waited patiently until a handsome young man broke away from the others and, with a grin
that was pure seduction and a suggestive sway in his hips, casually swaggered over, working it
for his prospective customer's enjoyment. When he leaned against the passenger door to peer
inside, however, his eyes were filled with a desperation totally at odds with the provocative
behavior.
"Get in," Noah said quietly.
While the others whistled and shouted vulgar encouragements, the young man opened the door
and climbed into the truck. Noah tossed over an old work jacket, and Mark smiled gratefully,
pulling it on over a body-revealing, mesh tank top. His working clothes were much too skimpy to
provide any warmth. Noah reached over and turned the heating control on its highest setting.
Neither said a word until the old truck pulled away and turned the corner. Then, professional
persona cast off like ill-fitting shoes, Noah's passenger appeared in his true form: an eighteen-
year-old who had come to believe that home wasn't so bad after all.
"I called your uncle," Noah began, sensing the anticipation and knowing Mark was too nervous
about the answer to ask the question he was dying to.
The response was hopeful, but cautious. "And?"
Stopping the truck at a red light, Noah looked over with a wry smile and replied, "And your
uncle has a big mouth. For the next four hours my phone rang constantly. I'll bet I talked to every
single member of your family -- and you've got a very large family, apparently." He quietly said
what he knew the young man wanted to hear. "Mark, they all miss you and want you to come
home."
The Angel of 13th Street - 70
Instead of the expected happiness, Mark huddled quietly in the passenger seat, staring at the floor.
So quietly that Noah could barely hear, he whispered, "What about my father?"
Ah, so that was the problem. Despite all the talk of "my dad is a heartless asshole," it seemed the
man's opinion still mattered. When Noah had first talked to Mark's father, he'd wanted to track
him down and shake some sense into him. Eventually the man calmed enough to listen to reason.
In the end, like many fathers Noah had talked to over the years, the simple Kentucky farmer
finally confessed that he loved his son and it really didn't matter if the boy was gay -- he just
wanted his son home.
The light changed and Noah continued down the street, chuckling as he replied, "Well, first he
gave me a piece of his mind, thinking I was your boyfriend and much too old for you. When I
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]