Love Most Inconvenient Page 2

  The man came closer to him now, dark brown eyes filled with anger. “You almost got me killed! Why in hell did you tell the police all that bullshit?”

  “Bullshit?” John gasped. “I wouldn’t lie to the police.”

  “You told them I threatened to rape you!”

  “You did!”

  “I did not!”

  “You showed me your gun. You told me you hurt people!” John countered, backing into the corner.

  “And where in the hell are my things?”

  “Things?”

  “Clothes, underwear, socks, things!”

  “Your things?” John blinked. “You mean you actually live here?”

  The man glared at him. “What in hell do you think I’m doing here? Yes, I live here. I’m Manuel.”

  “John.”

  “Okay, now that we know who we are, where in hell are my things?”

  John winced. Sam had told him someone else had been in the room before him. Oh God. This must be him. “Well, you’re not going to like it.” John winced.

  Manuel threw up his hands. “Really? What a fucking surprise. I haven’t liked too damn much so far.”

  “Well, I didn’t think you’d be back. I gave your things to the poor.” John looked at the floor.

  “You did what?” he asked, his jaw dropping.

  “I had no room in the closet and they were very tacky.” There was a strained silence, then John ran his gaze over him. “You do need clothes, I guess.”

  “You guess?” Manuel eyed him. “Could you just please tell me how come you’ve taken up residence in my room?”

  “I rented it from Sam.”

  “You rented my room from Sam?”

  John nodded, trying not to stare. “Maybe you should put some clothes on.” He couldn’t help but notice what a great body he had, all those muscles and in all the right places too. The shoulders were broad, the skin golden, torso making a V shape down to a narrow waist, flat stomach and a delightfully round, compact ass.

  “I’d love to,” he replied, his voice rising at each word, “if I had any clothes to put on!”

  John tried to smile. “So you’re not a killer?”

  “Not by nature, but right now, I think I could be tempted.” He glared at John.

  “Look.” John dared to move toward him. “We can find a way to work this out. I’d be willing to split my half of the rent with you.”

  “Really?” he eyed him again, folding muscular arms across his chest. “How much rent are you paying?”

  “Seven hundred and forty, but…”

  “Why, that little bastard,” Manuel muttered. “He’s not paying a bloody cent. Where in hell is he?”

  “Gone for a few weeks,” John said, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t get it. You lived in that room, right?”

  “Present tense; I live in that room. Sam had no right to give away my room while I was gone. And you had no right to give away my clothes!”

  “Ah, so where were you all that time, in jail?”

  “Jail?” Manuel repeated, his eyes widening.

  “Oh God…” John whispered. Suddenly it dawned on him. “A cop. Sam told me that the last guy in my room was a cop. That’s why you have a gun.”

  Manuel gave him a mocking smile. “Aren’t you a genius?”

  “Okay, give me a break.” John took a breath. “What was I supposed to think? A strange man breaks into my room at two in the morning and—”

  “My room!”

  “That’s to be determined.” John held up his hand. “Anyway, Sam told me you had a boyfriend, so you can live there.”

  “Well, I’m not going to live there.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because this is half my apartment, and my rent is paid up.”

  John shrugged and walked into the kitchen. “Prove it!” he said. “Is your name on the lease?”

  “No. Sam’s name is on the lease, but Mrs. Levine has been getting my share of the rent for two years.” Manuel followed him into the kitchen.

  “Look, I’m making good money right now. I’ll move once the film is done, but I can’t at the moment. My life is too hectic. I’ll buy you some clothes. The stuff I threw out, I’ll compensate you for…”

  “I thought you said you gave my stuff to the poor.”

  “I lied. The poor didn’t want that stuff, believe me. My God, who picks out your clothes, honey?” John began looking for something to eat in the refrigerator.

  “Now he’s a fashion commentator,” Manuel muttered, rolling his eyes. “I pick out my own clothes, honey,” he mocked.

  John turned around. “Don’t get your panties in a twist … I mean … towel.” He laughed.

  “So clever.”

  “So your boyfriend is an actor too, eh?” John leaned against the counter, gazing at him. “I bet I know him.”

  “Jeff’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

  “Oh, I see. Okay. You know what? I think we can share the place until the film is finished. Then you can have your room back.”

  “I don’t want to share this place with you. You’re an asshole and just a little paranoid.”

  John’s eyes widened. “I’m not the one in a towel, honey.”

  “Stop calling me honey,” Manuel said between clenched teeth. “And I’m in a towel because you didn’t approve of my wardrobe and threw out my clothes.”

  “I’ll lend you some sweatpants and a T-shirt, but you’re not wearing my underwear,” John told him, narrowing his eyes.

  Manuel just looked at him.

  “I have this policy. I don’t let people wear my underwear unless I’m intimate with them.” John went into the bedroom and pulled open the drawers of the bureau.

  “Well, I’m not going to fuck you so that I can wear your underwear.”

  John blushed. “No, no, I didn’t ask you to. All right, so what do we do about Sam?” John handed him a pair of red sweatpants and a blue T-shirt.

  “These are going to go really well with black boots,” Manuel muttered.

  “They’re my cleaning clothes. They’ll do for now. And believe me, it’s an improvement from what I saw. Get dressed, I’m taking you shopping.”

  “Shopping?” he mouthed.

  “We have to get you some clothes. Don’t think you can walk around the apartment all day half naked.”

  Manuel smiled. “Why? Is it distracting?”

  John met his gaze. “Just a few hours ago, you threatened to rape and kill me. Now you’re flirting with me?”

  “I did not threaten to rape or kill you,” he muttered, pulling on the sweatpants. “Although, I may still kill you before the night’s over, and the rape part, well, that’s only in your warped imagination. Oh, and by the way, I’m not flirting with you.”

  John let his gaze run over him. “You know with the right management, you’d be pretty hot.”

  “Well, I’ll manage myself, thanks.”

  “You got a car?”

  “Yes. Let’s go.”

  * * * *

  John studied him as he drove. God, he was hot; he was hotter than hot. He was a hunk. Too bad he had such a caustic personality. “So how come your boyfriend dumped you?” John asked suddenly as Manuel stopped at a light.

  “He didn’t dump me.”

  “You dumped him?”

  Manuel ignored that.

  John looked out the window. “Obviously you don’t feel like talking about it. Maybe after the shopping, we could go and have a latte and—”

  “This is not a bonding session. I am not going to talk to you about my ex over a latte. I need some jeans and a couple of T-shirts, some socks and underwear. That’s it. Then we’re going back to the apartment and talk about where you’re going to sleep tonight.”

  “Me?” John gasped. “Why me? You can take the sofa, or better yet, Sam’s room. It has a lock but since he’s not paying rent … well…”

  “You’re right. Why in the hell should we take the scraps? I’ll sleep in his room.” />
  “Well, finally we agree on something.” John nodded. “Oh, there’s the store I like, that boutique for men over there. We’ll get your clothes there. They have great shirts and…”

  “We’re going to the Mart.”

  “The Mart? No wonder your boyfriend dumped you!”

  “My boyfriend didn’t dump me!” Manuel scowled. “Are you just annoying by nature, or did you take a seminar?”

  “Okay, okay … sorry.” John made a face.

  Manuel walked into the Mart, bought two pairs of jeans, four T-shirts, six pairs of white briefs, and six pairs of white socks. It took ten minutes.

  “What do you do on Sundays?” John asked him, looking at the six pairs of socks. They walked to the cash register.

  “I wash them.”

  “Oh.” John nodded. “Well, the four basic color groups are well represented.”

  “I know you’re being smart”—Manuel turned to him as they waited in line—“but I have my ‘I don’t give a shit face’ on today.”

  “You’re pretty funny,” John said with a smile.

  *

  Manuel was struck for a minute by the smile. John had a nice smile, a smile like a little boy. Manuel shook his head. Actors.

  John looked at his bill in the car. “Wow, cost me all of one hundred and fifty bucks. Are you sure you don’t want me to buy you a Coke with that?”

  “Coke? What happened to the latte?” Manuel cast him a glance, starting the engine.

  “Latte goes with Le Chic Men’s shop, Coke goes with the Mart.”

  “Oh, I see,” Manuel replied. “Sorry, I don’t know the rules.”

  “You don’t look much like a rule follower. We should get you settled into Sam’s room as soon as we get home. I have to be on the set at six tomorrow morning.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “I guess you could put your six pairs of socks and underwear away in the drawer, and hang up your two pair of jeans and four T-shirts all by yourself.”

  Manuel didn’t comment.

  “So tell me about your job,” John said, settling back in the seat.

  “Why?”

  “’Cause you obviously aren’t into shopping and you don’t like to talk about anything that remotely resembles emotion. Besides, I’m interested.”

  “I pretend to be someone else so that I can gather evidence and solve crimes.”

  “That’s pretty cool,” John told him. “It’s a little like acting.”

  Manuel looked at him.

  “You have to act, don’t you?”

  “Sometimes you have to impersonate people, yes, I guess so.”

  “I find it fascinating. It’s like acting with a mission. It must be dangerous.”

  “It is sometimes.”

  “And that’s what you like about it, right?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “’Cause you look like the James Bond type.”

  Manuel laughed. “I’m no James Bond.”

  “But you are a bad boy.”

  “Now who’s flirting with whom?”

  “Not,” John said with a laugh. “I was just thinking that if you’re as adventurous in bed as you are on the job, I’m surprised your boyfriend dumped you,”

  “What did you say?” Manuel barked. He pulled the car over to the side of the road and glared at him.

  “Hey, is this the part where you make a pass at me?” John gave him a cautious look. “Don’t let that bad boy comment go to your head.”

  “No, this is not the part where I make a pass at you, but it might be the part where I kick your ass. Stop saying my boyfriend dumped me. I told you, he didn’t dump me.”

  “You’re really touchy about that,” John pointed out. “And I’m not scared of you anymore. You’re a cop. You’re not allowed to kill me.”

  Manuel grumbled under his breath and began to drive again. After a few minutes, he said, “Okay, so tell me about the film you’re doing.”

  “Really? You’re really interested in my movie?”

  “No, not really, but it’s something to talk about.”

  John made a face. “Why should I tell you, if you’re not interested?”

  “Okay, okay, I’m interested. Go on. Tell me.”

  “Well, I’m starring in a film called Mistaken with the Martin Lavallee.”

  “Who?”

  “Who? Who?” John repeated, looking horrified. “You don’t know Martin Lavallee?”

  “Name doesn’t ring a bell.”

  “I can’t believe you. He is a hunk, drop-dead gorgeous, and a great actor.”

  “So, what’s the movie about?”

  John went on to talk about the movie and the other actors.

  “Who do you play?”

  “I play Helena’s younger brother, Romano.”

  “Romano?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Isn’t that a type of cheese?”

  “Get real. It’s a very romantic name. Helena confides in my character about her love for Frank.”

  “Sounds like a boring piece of crap to me.”

  “It’s a great film,” John countered. “It’s going to make me a star. And I’ll get to sleep with Martin Lavallee.”

  “Why would you want to sleep with him?”

  “Are you kidding? Every gay man in the world wants to sleep with him.”

  “I’m a gay man in this world and I don’t want to sleep with him,” Manuel told him.

  “You don’t even know who he is. And you’re weird.”

  Manuel drove into the parking lot. “Does he know of your ambition?”

  John laughed. “No. But he’s noticed me. I’ll sleep with a lot of actors before I’m through. I’m choosy, though.”

  “Umm,” Manuel replied, “sounds like it.”

  “Don’t be a smart-ass, and don’t forget your precious purchases from the Mart.”

  Upstairs in the apartment, John pointed to the padlock on Sam’s door. “He bolted it.”

  “Well, we’ll just have to unbolt it.”

  “What are you going to do, macho man, shoot it off?” John laughed.

  “No. I’m going to pry it off,” Manuel told him, walking into the kitchen. He came back with a small crowbar.

  John watched as he took off the bolt with one snap.

  “There,” Manuel said, throwing it aside. He opened the door and snapped on the light. “Holy shit.” The walls were covered with pictures of naked men and gay porn.

  John howled with laughter. “Wow.” He walked in, looked around. “At least you’ll have something to keep you company now that you’re single again. I wondered how come he spent so much time in his room.”

  “This is coming down,” Manuel said, and began to tear the pictures off the wall.

  John started to help him. “Well, I can’t say I blame you. It’s a little overdone.”

  “A little?” Manuel threw back at him.

  John grinned as he pushed back some of his shoulder-length curly dark hair.

  “I thought you had an early call tomorrow,” Manuel said after John had helped him move some furniture around.

  “I’m not going to be able to sleep with you banging stuff around in here all night. I might as well help you.”

  An hour or so later they were finished and Sam’s room was set up so that Manuel could sleep in it. They stood together in the kitchen sharing a glass of Coke. “Thanks,” Manuel told him.

  “No problem. So what happens when Sam comes back?”

  “Before or after I kick his ass?” Manuel growled.

  John laughed.

  “Well, he’s going to pay us back for his share of the rent.”

  “Are you going to continue to live here after I leave?”

  “Probably. It suits me. I’m not home a hell of a lot.”

  “So, the guy’s name was Jeff, eh? I know a lot of actors. What’s he done? Like I said before, I probably know him.”

  Manuel slammed his empty glass down the counter
and gave him a meaningful look. “You probably don’t.”

  “Oh, come on,” John complained. “Stop being such an ass. Just tell me why you broke up. What’s the big deal?”

  “Why is it so important to you?” Manuel asked, flopping on the sofa and turning on the television.

  “It intrigues me.” John shrugged. “You cheated on him and he found out. That’s it, isn’t it?”

  “Yep,” Manuel replied, flipping channels.

  “You’re lying. You broke up because of sex.”

  “Right,” Manuel told him.

  “Too much, or too little?”

  “What?”

  “He wanted too much or too little?”

  “He was like you, a cold fish.”

  “I am not a cold fish,” John protested. “Okay, I give up.”

  “Good.”

  “Was he—”

  “Forget it, John,” Manuel threatened.

  John raised a hand. “All right. I’m going to bed. Good night.”

  “Night,” Manuel said. He closed his eyes after a few minutes and tried to sleep, but instead he found himself thinking about Jeff. Right now he had expected to be lying in bed beside him, making love. He never thought he’d return to find him in bed with another guy. It had hurt a lot, especially since he’d finally made up his mind to move in with Jeff on a permanent basis. Anyway, it was a good thing it had happened when it did.

  Chapter Three

  The next morning when John came out of his room, he found Manuel fast asleep on the sofa. He walked over and looked down at him. He was lying on his back, his face turned toward the television. He had one of those morning shadows on his jaw. His hair fell over his forehead. John almost reached out and touched him. He was far too good-looking for his own good. He stood there for far longer than he should have, then headed for the shower. Before he left, he went over to look at him one last time. “Bye, sexy,” he whispered. He was a doll.

  It went well on the set that day. Martin Lavallee made a point of reminding him that he was supposed to come to his condo to go over some lines. John hadn’t forgotten. How could he? He hummed a little tune all day. He left the set at six o’clock, and went back to the apartment first so he could take a shower and change his clothes. When he arrived, Manuel was out in the hallway, fiddling with the front door.

  “What are you doing?” John asked him as he came down the hall.

  “Fixing the door. The police damaged it when they came busting through it. Remember, you told them I was a rapist?”