Bleu Balls Read online

  Robin just stared at the desktop. “I like your father.”

  “I do too, and he’s a great doctor, but he really is trying to retire, and it’s very important for gay men to have a physician they trust. If it can’t be me, I want to be sure that you secure a doctor you feel comfortable with. But I do have unique insight into your health needs, so I encourage you to come and see me—at least until you find someone else.”

  “You’ve got this insight because of your father’s records?” Robin crossed his arms.

  “No, any physician you choose will have your records. But I have my father to consult with, and I’m gay, so I suspect my father would have recommended that you see me even if he were continuing to practice.”

  Robin felt his mouth open, then close. “I see. Uh, well, I’ll consider that.” Right after his cock deflated. He wouldn’t say that made it worse. Oh, so much fucking worse.

  “But be assured, I won’t ask my father for input unless you say I should. I’ll only access what’s in the file.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

  “It’s just medical ethics.”

  “Still.” Robin stood. “I imagine Bobby will be your patient.”

  “He’s indicated as much.” The doc stood also. Man, those slim hips and muscular thighs suggested this gay doctor spent some serious time in the gym.

  “That means I’ll have fewer secrets. They don’t call us Double Trouble for nothing.” Okay, he might have mentioned that in case the doctor wanted to take advantage of their favorite hobby. Whew. The idea weakened his knees.

  Dr. Brown laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  When they got to the lobby, Bobby was leaning on the desk, and the nurses were all laughing. Yep, Mr. Charm.

  Robin turned to Dr. Brown. “Thanks. Appreciate your input.”

  “Since you’re due for your physical, why don’t you make an appointment now, and if you find another office you prefer, you can call and cancel.”

  “Uh, okay.”

  The nurse suggested a couple of days, and he and Bobby picked one. Didn’t matter which, since no way Robin would keep his appointment.

  Dr. Brown turned to Bobby. “I’ve suggested your brother take some of the herbal capsules I prescribed for you. Will you see he swallows them?” He gave Robin a little smirk, walked into the back, and closed the connecting door.

  No fucking fair.

  Out in the hall, Bobby bounced his way to the elevator. “So pretty. So pretty. It’s very fun having a beautiful doctor.”

  “You still have to take all his recommendations seriously. You got that?”

  Bobby grinned at him. “Well, sure. He’s a young, unmarried guy. He knows what that’s like. He’ll be a great doctor for both of us. And I can dream all I want. It’s not fattening. Addictive, maybe.” He giggled.

  On the elevator ride to the lobby, Robin stared at the buttons. Bobby never mentioned Dr. B.’s gay. He doesn’t know. Should I tell him? Why wouldn’t I? You know damned well why, you asshole.

  They’d driven halfway home before Robin finally released all his breath.

  Bobby hadn’t stopped talking. “What do you think, dear? Is it illegal for a doctor to date his patient? I mean, not that he would. Not me, anyway. But if he had a pretty girl patient, could he date her? I’ve never known a single doctor before. Oh, maybe a widowered doctor or something, but not, like, so young he’s single.”

  “Bobby.”

  “I know, dear, I’m babbling. I’m sorry. But I feel better and I just like him so much. If I can’t talk to you, who will listen to me blab and—”

  “He’s gay.”

  “I mean, I’m so sorry to make you listen and—what the hell did you say?”

  “He’s gay.” Robin stared out the windshield and tried not to glance at Bobby’s face.

  “He? You mean Dr. Brown?”

  “Who the hell else have you been talking about for the last twenty minutes nonstop?”

  “I-I’m sorry, but how do you know? I mean, he mentioned something to me, but it was easy to see he could have meant it another way.”

  He blew his bangs off his forehead with a long stream of air. “No, he told me.”

  Bobby’s hands waved like helicopters. “Told you? Like flat-out, or are you, like, extrapolating from some comment he made?”

  “Did you really just use ‘extrapolating’ in a sentence?” Robin snorted. “Yes, he told me. Flat-out. He said that was a reason why he’d be a good doctor for me—uh, us.”

  “Oh God, Robin. Oh God, oh God, oh God. Do you think he likes me? He really wanted me to be a patient. Do you think that’s why, or is it the opposite? Since he can’t date patients, he wouldn’t care if I am one because he doesn’t want to date me anyway—”

  “Bobby, stop!” Robin held up a hand as he pulled into their parking space at the apartment and turned off the car. “Stop. I’ve got no idea what he likes or wants or what his motivations are. He told me he’s gay. That’s it. That’s all I know, and I don’t want to sit here and ‘extrapolate,’ as you say, from every fucking word the man said.”

  Bobby’s bottom lip quivered.

  Robin ran both hands through his inky hair. “Oh fuck, dear. I’m sorry. I guess I’m just on edge.”

  “I know. Me too.”

  They got out of the car. Robin wrapped an arm around Bobby’s shoulders, and they walked into the apartment. Inside, they both went to their own rooms. Robin sat on the edge of his bed and pulled off his ankle boots. Better start putting out feelers for a new cooking job. But he needed to create some product at the same time, or they’d have nothing to sell at the festival. He tossed his shoes in the closet and changed to black silk lounge pants and a black T-shirt.

  Okay, Bobby needs some food. Robin stood, walked out to the kitchen, and pulled some veggies from the fridge for a salad. He’d been plying Bobby with homemade vegetable soup since he got sick, and he had some left. With a little cheese melted on top, it wouldn’t seem too much like sickbed food.

  Bobby wandered out of his room in a flowered kimono. “What are you making?”

  “Something good.”

  Bobby sat on one of the stools at the island and rested his cheek on his hand. “Something good needs to happen to us, Robin.”

  Robin glanced over his shoulder as he slipped the bowls of soup into the countertop oven to melt the cheese. “You’re the one in charge of Pollyanna juice, dear. I can’t help you. I’m gonna look for a job right after lunch. Best I can do.” He tossed some salad. “Set the table.”

  Suddenly Bobby jumped off his stool. “No, dammit. I’m going to put an end to this misery. I’m calling Valerie.” He grabbed his cell.

  “Uh, maybe we should wait.”

  “No. I’m sick of waiting. I want to know for sure that someone else got this job instead of us.”

  Chapter Five

  “UH, BOBBY, wait.” Robin stabbed at the cheese with his bare finger. Shit! “Ouch! Don’t call.”

  “No.” Bobby held up his hand, then scrolled with his thumb and pushed a button.

  Well, fuck! “Uh, Bobby, I need to tell you what happened.”

  Bobby looked up with the phone to his ear. “What happened?”

  Robin stepped out from behind the breakfast bar. Could he tackle Bobby and break the phone? “See, there’s this tenant. Remember I mentioned him, the architect?”

  “Yes, I—” He stuck up a finger. “Hi, Valerie. It’s Bobby.” He listened. “Much better, thanks. Look, Robin told me they didn’t like us, but I wondered who they chose and—” He frowned.

  Oh shit.

  “Wait, I don’t understand.” He stared at Robin.

  Oh man, will he ever forgive me? Robin mouthed I’m so sorry and slouched against the bar. God, he hated disappointing Bobby.

  Bobby’s frown deepened—Robin sighed—then suddenly Bobby burst out in a smile so huge it should have broken his face. “But that’s wonderful! Amazing!” He looked at Robin and gave a thu
mbs-up.

  What. The. Fuck.

  “I see.” He chuckled. “Yes, that sounds like him.” His eyes flicked to Robin. “So what are the next steps?” He nodded. “Okay. Great. Get back to me.” He grinned. “Yeah, I’m glad too. Talk soon.” Bobby hung up and stared at the phone.

  “What happened?” Robin held his breath.

  Bobby glanced at him sideways with teeth. “We got the job.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “Nope.”

  Robin held on to the bar to keep from falling. “How?”

  “How what? You’re brilliant and no one else can match you.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Bobby pointed at the sofa. “Sit for a minute.”

  “Hang on. Let me rescue the soup.” He turned off the toaster oven but left the bowls inside to stay warm and walked to the couch. “So what the hell happened? If we won, how come it took so long to tell us?”

  Bobby fluttered to the big chair and descended into it in Bobby grandeur. “She said she was literally reaching for the phone when I called. Apparently two members of the committee totally wanted us from the start, but there was a holdout. They asked Bean for a rough design, and when they saw it, they picked us.”

  “Why didn’t they ask us for a spec design?”

  Bobby shrugged. “She said you did one at the meeting.”

  “Seriously? I did a pen-and-ink sketch because the architect pissed me off.”

  “It must have worked, baby, because we’re in. And you always do your best work when you’re angry. You know that.”

  Robin flopped back against the couch cushions. “Holy shit.”

  “So our summer’s made. No kitchen duty for you.” He wrinkled his nose. “But we better paint fast for the festival. We need inventory, and you’re going to be on a scaffold for a month.”

  “At least.”

  “Nope. A month. That’s all they’re giving us in terms of leaving the scaffold in the lobby, so we have to work fast, and by we I mean you.”

  “That’s a lot to do in thirty days. You may need to help me.”

  “We can’t get in there for two weeks. Meanwhile, they want to see a more complete design. We have to present it next Thursday.”

  “Okay. I can do that. You have to present it this time, or we’ll lose the contract. That architect hates me.”

  “Hey, we won, remember? How much can he hate you?”

  “A lot. Especially if the others shoved us down his throat, which I suspect they did.”

  Bobby hurled himself from the chair and threw himself through the air, landing on Robin’s lap. “No! You’re a genius!”

  Robin shook his head. “More luck than genius.”

  “I don’t care how you did it. Let’s eat lunch and get to work on the design. It has to be great.” Bobby slid off Robin’s lap.

  “Yeah.” Robin gave him a narrow-eyed glance. “But why in particular?”

  Bobby didn’t meet his eyes. “They won’t sign the contract until after we present the design.”

  Robin leaped up. “Shit! You said they chose us.”

  “They did.” He sauntered into the kitchen and spoke over his shoulder. “But if they don’t like our design, they’ll interview more artists.”

  “Fuck, Bobby!”

  Bobby waggled his butt and began dishing up salad.

  BOBBY STARED at Robin, who’d settled himself behind the wheel of the Prius and seemed determined to stay there.

  “Why can’t I just stay here? Come on, you and Valerie can do this better without me.”

  “Robin McMillan, you know full well that what got us the selection was your genius.”

  Robin crossed his arms and scowled. “We’re not selected. They just found a way to get us to work on spec after I said I wouldn’t.”

  Bobby sighed and let Robin hear it. “Not true. We’ve discussed this. We’re chosen unless our design sucks, and it doesn’t. It’s amazing. Fantastic!”

  “That architect won’t think so.”

  “Fuck, Robin! Get out from under your damned black cloud and let’s go wow them.” He pushed open the car door, slid out, and slammed it shut. Robin really was a genius, but somewhere in his childhood he’d opened a hole, sucked all the light into it, and closed a cover on it. Funny that I’ve never known why. Robin redefined pessimism. It was exhausting.

  Valerie saw them across the lot and crossed to Bobby, smiling. “Big day. Are you all ready?”

  He kissed her cheek. “Totally. We’ll blow them away.”

  She looked up as Robin crossed slowly around the car, frowning. “Valerie, will you tell my brother that my going in will wreck our chances of winning? I’ll just wait out here.”

  She flattened her pink lips. “No. Ordinarily I’d agree, but you totally won over Georgia Wyatt, and I think she’ll want to see you.”

  “But the architect hates me.”

  “I get the impression he hates everyone.”

  Bobby looked at Robin and snorted. “You two are probably related. Let’s go.” He was actually anxious to see this vicious architect.

  In the building lobby, Robin waved an arm at the huge wall space halfway up the vaulted ceiling. “There’s our canvas.”

  “Wow. That’s quite a showcase.”

  “If it doesn’t kill us first.”

  Bobby just laughed and gave his brother a quick squeeze around the neck.

  Robin frowned and fidgeted most of the way up the elevator. Bobby wanted to grab his arm and make him stand still, but didn’t, of course. Robin really didn’t like most people, though Bobby secretly thought he was just getting in the first punch—hating others before they could hate him. That was a self-fulfilling prophecy. People knew they were disliked and gave back what they got. Still, Robin ignored most everyone. His distaste for this architect seemed particularly pointed. We’ll see.

  In Hyer Anson’s office, the receptionist practically broke a tooth grinning at them. “Right this way. They’re waiting for you.”

  Valerie smiled as if to say I told you so.

  Down the hall they trooped, with Robin scowling and dragging his feet and Bobby and Valerie smiling even bigger to make up for it.

  They got into the conference room and—well, damn. Only two people sat there, and neither of them qualified as a mean architect. The woman bounced up from the table and hurried over to shake their hands. “Hi. I’m Georgia Wyatt. We’re so excited to be working with you.” She turned, looked Robin right in the face, and swallowed him in a huge, bosom-squishing hug.

  Bobby burst out laughing and got a small frown from Valerie.

  Robin looked shocked, but he managed to defrost his face enough to turn his lips skyward.

  Georgia stared back and forth between Robin and Bobby. “It’s hard to detect since you style yourselves so differently, but you’re totally identical, aren’t you?”

  Bobby laughed. “Two peas in a pod. Robin’s older, so he’s forced to take care of me.”

  “Oh? How much older?”

  “About five minutes, our mother says.”

  “Delightful. Sorry to be hogging the floor. This is Hyer Anson. He owns the building, so he has far more to say about this than I do.”

  Anson crinkled his bright eyes. “Not at all. Georgia and Paolo have the taste, so I leave the decision-making to them.”

  Valerie smiled tightly. “Will Mr. Lind be joining us?”

  Anson nodded. “Momentarily, I believe.”

  Bobby almost said, “Oh goody.”

  They all sat around the conference table, and Valerie hooked her laptop to their projection system. When she was done and the receptionist had brought them water and coffee, Valerie looked at Anson politely. “Shall we begin?”

  Anson glanced at the door, flashed a frown, and nodded. “Might as well.”

  Showtime! Bobby stood and put up the first PowerPoint slide. “Do you know how to draw an owl?” He grinned. The slide showed a beautiful rendering of an owl.

  Gloria
and Hyer shook their heads, smiling back.

  Bobby displayed a screen that showed two interconnecting circles. “First, you draw two circles.”

  They nodded, looking at the screen.

  He clicked to a slide that showed the original drawing of the owl. “And then you draw the rest of the owl.”

  Georgia burst out laughing, and Hyer chuckled.

  Bobby raised an eyebrow. “Robin and I do something others feel they should be able to do, if they could only master that second step.”

  Robin was fighting a grin, looking up at him.

  “We believe that’s why you’ve chosen us. Because we can bring something to your project that no one else can duplicate. Let me show you our vision for—”

  The door burst open. Bobby looked up, annoyed—and froze. Holy blessed shit.

  The man who walked in defied description unless you just wanted to fall back on “yummy.” The name Paolo sounded Italian, the name Lind would likely be Scandinavian, but somewhere in this mix, a dash of the East had been added and the sum total produced a creature so exquisite Bobby wanted to paint him—or better yet, let Robin paint him. Well, he would have been exquisite if he weren’t frowning so fucking hard you would have thought they’d kept him waiting.

  Hyer looked over at the man and said, “Paolo, this is Bobby McMillan. You know Valerie and Robin.”

  The look Lind gave Robin should have frozen the coffee in their glasses. He nodded at Bobby and took a seat. Not even a Sorry I’m late.

  Bobby flashed the pearlies. “Mr. Lind, you missed my fantastic opening. You’ll have to ask the others for a summary.” Smiling to soften the snark, he turned back to the screen—though in truth his belly still flipped from one glance at Paolo Lind. “Now as I was saying, we can create something for you that no one else can.” Lind frowned even harder. “In our design, we strove to capture the forces of originality and creativity that mark this building and the businesses and people in it—the growth, the striving, the balance and harmony. You saw the root of our concept in the sketch Robin did for you when you last met. Here is the fulfillment of that promise.” Oh yes, I’m a silver-tongued devil, thank you very much.