Read Online Fifteen Shades of Gay (For Pay) by T. Baggins - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: T. Baggins
Ads: Link
Google you? Especially when you start a date this way : ‘Do you know who I am?’” Andrew did a passable imitation of Cormac’s occasionally portentous tones. “I thought you were on the Supreme Court or something.”
“Oh, really? Name the Chief Justice,” Cormac fired back, deadpan.
Andrew considered for a moment, and then felt in his jeans pocket for his phone.
“Nope. Fail. You see?” Cormac grinned. “Politicians aren’t exactly rock stars. I’m safe almost everywhere I go.”
“Not from that, you’re not.” Andrew pointed at the foot-long. “Think about all the nitrates, additives, and fat grams.”
Cormac took another big bite, chewing defiantly.
“Not to mention the chili and onions.” Andrew pretended distress. “You’re not planning to fart all through this date with me, are you?”
As Andrew spoke, a family of four passed, the mother’s head turning on the phrase “date with me.” Eyes widening, Cormac swallowed, swiping at his mouth with a paper napkin.
“Given your situation,” he murmured, “I’m surprised to hear you broadcast what we’re doing.”
“My situation?” Andrew saw no reason to lower his voice. “I don’t care who thinks I’m gay. Well, in the bedroom, that’s a pretty big misunderstanding, but otherwise, what difference does it make?”
“Oh, it makes a difference,” Cormac sighed. “And I’ll try not to fart on you, unless the Rangers choke again, in which case all bets are off. Want some food now, or can you wait?”
“I can wait. Wouldn’t mind a soda, though.”
“Not a beer?” Cormac teased.
“No alcohol will touch these lips until I’m off the clock. This time, you’re getting your money’s worth. Starting with an upright and sober date.”
Cormac insisted on buying Andrew’s soda, which came in a collectible plastic Rangers cup he decided to save for Marie. For himself, Cormac bought a Heineken, frowning as he took the first sip. “German beer in a plastic bottle just isn’t right. But you take what you can get.”
“Where are we sitting?” Andrew didn’t mind the nosebleeds—a live game was a live game—but he half-expected Cormac to coyly present ringside seats.
“Follow me. We’re taking the elevator up.”
Packing himself into an elevator with Cormac and ten other fans, Andrew was surprised to find himself riding all the way to the top, not to the nosebleeds, but to the sky boxes. “Are you kidding me?”
Cormac gave a slight smile. “It’s no big deal.”
Andrew snorted. “It’s a big deal to me. Are you an owner?”
“God, no. Friends invited me. They’re all married. Told me to bring a date. So….” Cormac shrugged. “You did mention you needed the money.”
“You dickwad!” Andrew punched Cormac’s upper arm. “I would have come to a Rangers game with you for free!”
“Come meet my friends.”
The sky box, which seated up to thirty people, hosted the owner, his wife, their teenage sons, and two other married straight couples. It took Andrew less than sixty seconds to realize Cormac was a huge favorite. Not so much by how the owners or the other couple greeted Cormac, per se , but by their friendliness toward Andrew. The men practically elbowed one another out of the way to shake his hand; the women were all over him, curious about his background, complimenting his clothes and even his hair. Not since a gaggle of movie fans had wandered into an audition and mistook him for James McAvoy had a group shown Andrew so much interest.
“So let’s hear it. How did you two meet?” the owner’s wife, a pretty blond, asked Andrew.
“At an Irish bar. He bought me a Guinness. Then he took it away and drank it himself when I didn’t like it.”
Laughter all around. “What do you do, Andrew?” one of the other men asked.
“I’m an actor. Which means I do nothing except study for roles, wait in line for hours, and accept rejection,” Andrew said. “It’s okay. Paying my dues. I could have
“Oh, really? Name the Chief Justice,” Cormac fired back, deadpan.
Andrew considered for a moment, and then felt in his jeans pocket for his phone.
“Nope. Fail. You see?” Cormac grinned. “Politicians aren’t exactly rock stars. I’m safe almost everywhere I go.”
“Not from that, you’re not.” Andrew pointed at the foot-long. “Think about all the nitrates, additives, and fat grams.”
Cormac took another big bite, chewing defiantly.
“Not to mention the chili and onions.” Andrew pretended distress. “You’re not planning to fart all through this date with me, are you?”
As Andrew spoke, a family of four passed, the mother’s head turning on the phrase “date with me.” Eyes widening, Cormac swallowed, swiping at his mouth with a paper napkin.
“Given your situation,” he murmured, “I’m surprised to hear you broadcast what we’re doing.”
“My situation?” Andrew saw no reason to lower his voice. “I don’t care who thinks I’m gay. Well, in the bedroom, that’s a pretty big misunderstanding, but otherwise, what difference does it make?”
“Oh, it makes a difference,” Cormac sighed. “And I’ll try not to fart on you, unless the Rangers choke again, in which case all bets are off. Want some food now, or can you wait?”
“I can wait. Wouldn’t mind a soda, though.”
“Not a beer?” Cormac teased.
“No alcohol will touch these lips until I’m off the clock. This time, you’re getting your money’s worth. Starting with an upright and sober date.”
Cormac insisted on buying Andrew’s soda, which came in a collectible plastic Rangers cup he decided to save for Marie. For himself, Cormac bought a Heineken, frowning as he took the first sip. “German beer in a plastic bottle just isn’t right. But you take what you can get.”
“Where are we sitting?” Andrew didn’t mind the nosebleeds—a live game was a live game—but he half-expected Cormac to coyly present ringside seats.
“Follow me. We’re taking the elevator up.”
Packing himself into an elevator with Cormac and ten other fans, Andrew was surprised to find himself riding all the way to the top, not to the nosebleeds, but to the sky boxes. “Are you kidding me?”
Cormac gave a slight smile. “It’s no big deal.”
Andrew snorted. “It’s a big deal to me. Are you an owner?”
“God, no. Friends invited me. They’re all married. Told me to bring a date. So….” Cormac shrugged. “You did mention you needed the money.”
“You dickwad!” Andrew punched Cormac’s upper arm. “I would have come to a Rangers game with you for free!”
“Come meet my friends.”
The sky box, which seated up to thirty people, hosted the owner, his wife, their teenage sons, and two other married straight couples. It took Andrew less than sixty seconds to realize Cormac was a huge favorite. Not so much by how the owners or the other couple greeted Cormac, per se , but by their friendliness toward Andrew. The men practically elbowed one another out of the way to shake his hand; the women were all over him, curious about his background, complimenting his clothes and even his hair. Not since a gaggle of movie fans had wandered into an audition and mistook him for James McAvoy had a group shown Andrew so much interest.
“So let’s hear it. How did you two meet?” the owner’s wife, a pretty blond, asked Andrew.
“At an Irish bar. He bought me a Guinness. Then he took it away and drank it himself when I didn’t like it.”
Laughter all around. “What do you do, Andrew?” one of the other men asked.
“I’m an actor. Which means I do nothing except study for roles, wait in line for hours, and accept rejection,” Andrew said. “It’s okay. Paying my dues. I could have
Similar Books
