Risk Everything on It Read online

  Jax owed him a thank-you for helping him with the baby stuff. That wasn’t just a rationalization either. Jax’s booty was in no shape for a call at the moment.

  Through the third ring, Jax wondered if Oz would pick up, got ready to leave a voice mail, but then Oz was there, tone soft.

  “Jax, hi.”

  Having Oz live and in person in his ear made Jax need to clear his throat, rehearsed opening lines dying on his tongue.

  “Hey. I, uh, wanted to thank you for the baby-care tutoring.”

  “You’re welcome. Babysitting worked out?”

  The lie felt a little stupid now, but retracting it seemed too complicated.

  “Great. Thanks to you.”

  “I’m sure you put some effort into it.”

  How had Jax not noticed before how sexy everything sounded when Oz said it? When he was there, the whole sexy package—damn, what a package—hid how the resonance of his voice brushed Jax’s ear like a kiss.

  “I wouldn’t have known how if you hadn’t helped me out. I appreciate it.” Could he possibly sound more pathetic? Maybe shitting his brains out wasn’t just a euphemism.

  “It was rewarding on my end.” Oz’s smile echoed through his words.

  “More than rewarding on mine.” Jax fell into the easy flirtation they’d been doing over the pizza.

  “Good to know.” The smile in Oz’s tone vanished. “I wish I could say it looks like I’m going to catch that break before you have to go to California but—”

  “That’s another thing I wanted to tell you. Work will have me back in New York first week in November.”

  “I—”

  Whatever Oz was going to say to that was drowned out by a child squealing, “Daddy, I need to have you sign this for school.”

  “I have to run. Sorry.”

  “No problem.”

  “Jax.” Oz’s frustration and regret were easy to read in the single syllable. Wouldn’t be the first time Jax had heard his name like that. “I don’t think November will be any better timing.”

  Jax found himself nodding, though there was no one there to see his pleasant-faced “Right.”

  “Daddy, can I have another cookie? Ayla had two.”

  “Did not. I saved mine from before.”

  The little-girl voices summoned the picture of a cozy domestic scene, something straight out of Family Daze, minus Konnor mugging at the camera.

  “Gotta go.”

  Jax expected the plunge into silence from the disconnection, but Oz’s breath still came through the speaker. The cookie squabble faded into the background. Jax pictured Oz’s lips, full and soft surrounded by his beard, the satin smoothness of his bare skull, the teasing promise in his eyes.

  “Bye, Jax.”

  After that pause, the silence was final.

  Chapter 6

  AS IT turned out, Pellizzari’s had a small restaurant in addition to their delivery and deli. Dane met Jax there at seven thirty.

  “Italian, really?” Dane arched his brows as a black-dressed hostess led them to a small, wobbly table.

  “I feel like I can afford it.” His accelerated digestion seemed to have slowed a bit over the past couple of hours. Maybe his body was getting used to the pills.

  “Damn, Jax. I know you haven’t worked in a bit, but I didn’t know things were that bad. Maybe you’d better cut back some other ways. You could always stay with us anytime you need to come to New York.”

  “Huh?” Jax leaned back and then fought to keep his chair from tipping over. His chair wasn’t in any better shape than the table. “I thought we were talking about food.”

  “I am. I can treat but—” Dane’s weird tangent finally made sense.

  “No. I have money. I meant I could afford to splurge on the carbs.”

  Dane let out a deep breath. “Oh. Got it. But I have to say, this isn’t your usual kind of place.” Dane’s gaze swept the tiny restaurant.

  Jax hadn’t noticed the cracked floor tiles until he tried to find a way to level out the table and his equally stability-challenged chair. The menu stuck to his fingers, and the travel posters of Italy on the wall were yellowed and ragged. Turning back to Dane, Jax shrugged. “I hear the food is good.”

  “Works for me. So what’s this part you got?”

  “It’s a two-episode arc, but if the character catches on, I could get work for more.”

  “This is the one with the baby? So that practice paid off?”

  “Yeah.” Jax rocked the chair again, swallowing back the disappointment that surfaced as he thought of how he’d practiced. He had a feeling Oz was going to go into the woulda-coulda-shoulda column when Jax’s mind wandered before sleep, dropped there with all those things Jax felt like he’d missed out on somehow. For once, that label wouldn’t be on a role he’d wanted.

  “Do you want to split a pizza?” he asked Dane.

  “Seriously? I haven’t seen you eat pizza in this century.”

  It was a bit of an exaggeration. “Except when we go to Coney Island.”

  “Whatever. Our annual Cyclone trip excepted. But, dude. You breaking character—” Dane paused to give him a look that made Jax roll his eyes. “—enough to drag me out to an Italian restaurant for pizza makes me question whether everything is okay.”

  “It’s fine. I was just in the mood for pizza.” Jax had been in the mood for something else, but Pellizzari’s pizza was as close as he could get to it.

  He got why Oz had bailed. It didn’t take deductive brilliance to figure out what Oz’s familiarity with kids or those kid voices—and screams—on the phone meant. He’d heard that lots of black men who had sex with other men didn’t even identify as gay. That lots of them lived straight lives, complete with wives and kids, and then met guys for sex.

  Despite feeling like they’d known each other a lot longer than a couple hours, they hadn’t talked about anything personal. Jax could see Oz fitting in with that. He was obviously dedicated to his kids.

  It had been ballsy of Oz to hand over his business card. But maybe he’d figured since Jax was buying shit at a Baby Boutique, he wasn’t in any position to spread bad news.

  He wasn’t as rooted in denial as Dane liked to think. Jax knew when it came to lying about himself, he didn’t have any high ground. So they both had secrets. Oz’s just made timing a lot more complicated. Too complicated, apparently.

  Dane sipped his glass of red wine, studying Jax over the rim.

  “What?” Jax asked.

  “I’m waiting to hear what.”

  The waitress brought over two plates and a bread basket. The smell—yeast, butter, garlic—made Jax’s mouth water until it hurt.

  Dane—evil fucker—grinned and dug into the basket, breaking apart a slice of the garlic bread so that even more fragrance drifted up Jax’s nose.

  “Sadist.” Jax thrust out his jaw. “Funny, I never saw Spencer as a sub.”

  Dane laughed. “You’re mixing up the letters in your acronym. A sadist would need a masochist, to hurt or not if he was really mean. But I hardly need one when I have you to torment.”

  “I hate you.”

  “And yet here we are.” Dane bit into the bread and chewed. “If you really wanted to celebrate your theatrical achievement, you’d have called Theo. If you needed to be bailed out—literally or figuratively—you’d call Gideon. But you called me. Which means you want the truth, even if you might not like it.”

  “What was your degree in again? I could have sworn you had labs that weren’t about white mice and mazes.”

  Annoyance at Dane’s self-assured analysis was enough to keep Jax’s attention off the bread.

  “Biology is about more than just how things are alive, but how a whole ecology works. It’s natural for our little family to have established roles. Gideon’s the dad, Theo’s the mom—”

  “Have you told him that?”

  Dane ignored the question. “That’s why everyone was so stressed when he didn’t show up at the Cyclone
reunion this year.”

  “And what are you?”

  “I’m the scapegoat rebel child or rakish uncle whose wild ways give you all something to crave and deny.”

  Jax wrinkled his nose. “Doesn’t that make what goes on between you and G incestuous?”

  “Maybe I come from Theo’s side of the family.” In the dim light from the hanging bulb over the table, Dane’s green eyes gleamed. “But it is problematic when we consider you.”

  Jax was going to regret asking, but Dane had him. “And what am I?”

  “Our sweet little brat and court jester.”

  Jax pursed his lips. “You do remember how you and I met, not to mention that one time you, me, and G…?” Jax waved his hand.

  “Tell me that spit roast wasn’t the best time of your life.”

  Jax’s cheeks burned. “It was a long time ago.”

  Dane shrugged. “You brought it up.” He paused as the waitress slid a gigantic antipasto onto the table. They must have cleaned out the deli to make it. Meat and cheeses left the olives, Italian peppers, tomatoes, and lettuce completely outnumbered. No wonder this place did a good business despite the decor.

  Dane scooped a layer of salami, prosciutto, and ham onto his plate. “Now that we’ve established our familial codependence, on to why we’re here.” He put his chin on his hand and stared at Jax with wide, sympathetic eyes. “Tell Uncle Dane what life wisdom you need.”

  Jax threw a napkin at him.

  “Way to confirm your brat status.” Dane tossed it back. “You started taking the meds.”

  “Yes,” Jax agreed, though it wasn’t a question. “And shitting my brains out because of it.”

  “Either a month now or a lifetime of it.”

  “And you’re not the mom? Because you sure sound like one.”

  Dane smiled like Jax was still proving his point and then shoveled in some salami.

  Jax took one small slice of provolone and some pastrami along with a pepper and onion. Wasn’t like he had a reason to worry about breath mints later. “In your long and extremely varied career, have you ever dated a married man?”

  Dane nodded, and Jax felt a little guilt slide away. He hadn’t known he was going to ask that, but Dane was right. Jax had been counting on some perspective from “Uncle Dane.”

  “You have?”

  “I nodded because we’d finally gotten to the purpose of you inviting me out. Define date.”

  Dane had a point. A hookup on Grindr might last all of thirty minutes from a text to orgasm.

  “More than a quick fuck,” Jax offered in clarification.

  “Heterosexually married or—?”

  “Any kind of serious commitment. Have you ever been with someone who was sneaking around?”

  Dane stripped a pepper off its stem with his teeth and chewed while he considered. “I suppose we all have, given statistical probability. Except Mr. Serial Monogamist, our dear Mama Theo.”

  Jax nodded as he savored the last bite of provolone.

  Dane downed the rest of his wine. “But not knowingly. Sorry to burst your bubble, home wrecker.”

  Jax choked on the cheese. “Fuck you.”

  Dane laughed and put a hand on his chest. “Sorry, but I think our passion has run its course.”

  Though it sure as hell hasn’t with you and Gideon. You’ve been jerking him around for fifteen years.

  Dane pushed aside his plate. “Okay, seriously, you know I’m all about honesty for me, but if it doesn’t come up, I have no way of knowing about him.”

  Jax cleared the rest of the residue from his throat with a big swallow of mineral water. “What if you suspected?”

  “I’d ask him.”

  Oh sure, because Dane was all about honesty. No matter what destruction that created. Like losing out on a good thing mattered to him when he already had two men in love with him, and permission to fuck anything with a dick.

  “And what if he was sneaking around?”

  Jax expected a snap answer, one of Dane’s pronouncements of his personal morality. Dane shook a blond curl out of his eye and glanced up as the waitress somehow found room on their table for the pizza, which was steaming on its tin.

  “Pan’s hot,” she said without inflection.

  As good as the pizza looked, Jax hated mouth burns and the resulting little flap of skin. It would drive him crazy until it healed.

  “Uncle Dane doesn’t have an easy answer for that one,” Dane said at last. “I guess it would depend on why he felt like he had to cheat and how I felt about him.”

  Dane grabbed at the pizza, winced, and stuffed his thumb in his mouth. Jax held up the spatula with a smirk.

  Jax served them both a slice. While they waited for the food to cool, he asked, “For example?”

  “You.”

  Jax raised his brows.

  Dane brandished a fork at Jax. “Say you decided avoidance and a low personal profile weren’t enough and got yourself a beard to prove your heterosexuality. If I was the guy on the side in that situation, I’d probably break it off. But then again, if I was crazy about you, I might not.”

  “Thanks.” Was that what Dane really thought of him?

  “For what?”

  Jax brushed it off. “Admitting someone might be crazy about me.”

  “Aw, you know I love the fuck out of you.” Dane reached for Jax’s hand, but he yanked it back.

  Dane shrugged. “I’d say the four of us were so damned incestuously codependent we might as well be lesbians, but my living mom would smack me upside the head. And the other would reassemble her ashes just to kick my ass.”

  “Plus there’s that whole thing where we all like dick and not pussy.”

  “That too.”

  JAX CRAWLED into bed and set an alarm for a five-thirty run. He’d already taken off the last two days, and he needed to do some serious cardio and core work before the pizza carbs added twenty camera-pounds. In hindsight, Italian probably hadn’t been the best choice, given how his system had been acting. He might deeply regret the spicy peppers when they exited later.

  He rolled over and tapped his phone awake, habit taking him to a quick scroll through Manhunt before he shut it down and put it on the nightstand. He wasn’t exactly in any shape for that, either.

  His phone buzzed.

  Shit. Had he accidentally sent a text to a profile?

  The vibrations went on longer. A call. He scooped it up, a smile curving his lips. Seeing that number was better than the smell of fresh-baked piecrust.

  He propped up the pillows and settled back. “Hey,” he said to Oz.

  “Hi. Sorry about before.”

  “No need.”

  “So, November, huh?”

  Jax took a deep, slow breath. “Yeah. I’ll be back around the fifth. Won’t be staying at this place, though. Maybe in Manhattan.” He’d have to check the contract, but it was unlikely the producers were offering accommodations. He’d probably get a hotel.

  Could be here again, and for longer if things go well. The words rushed up, tingling on his tongue. Early-onset dementia. Crazy to plan on his career, crazy to plan on whether he and Oz would even still want to get together in another month.

  He held the burst of insanity back, pressing his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

  “That’s good.” Oz had a voice Jax felt with his whole body: warm, strong, and oh yeah, sexy. “Depending on how things go, I’d like to get together again.”

  “Me too.”

  Things. Oz’s vagueness left a nagging guilt, like a hangnail. Maybe Oz was a guy with kids who’d figured out he was gay later in life. Or he could be deeply closeted and at best Jax was a dirty little secret. At worst….

  He didn’t want to think about that, couldn’t because Oz got deeper, softer. “My dick has developed all kinds of good associations with the sound of your voice.”

  That was fucking mutual. By the time Oz had finished speaking, Jax’s dick was thick and full, the hot curl of a
rousal in his gut making his legs drop open.

  “That sound for instance,” Oz said.

  “I might already be playing with my balls.”

  Oz gave a breathy “Mmm…,” then, “that sounds promising. If I were there, I’d play with your tits. Get my hands on those big, hard pecs.”

  The muscle under discussion twitched, flexed. “I’d like that.”

  “Yeah, you do. Pinch your nipple.”

  Jax’s hand obeyed. His fingers skated up his belly and fastened around a nipple before his brain had time to react. He’d flirted—explicitly—on the phone, preliminaries to a later meeting. He’d done a little video chatting to establish they both matched their profile pictures. But this was going to go further.

  Jax could roll with it. Phone sex had just never been necessary before.

  “Harder,” Oz rumbled in Jax’s ear. “Twist it.”

  Jax did, the bite of pain shooting sweet sparks to his balls. His mouth opened on a sound he didn’t know if he’d have made if Oz were in the room with him.

  Deciding he ought to try to hold up his side of the conversation, Jax said, “What’s your dick doing now?”

  “Want to see it?”

  “Want to taste it.”

  “I can only manage the first from here,” Oz said with a touch of amusement. “What kind of video chat do you use?”

  “I have Skype on my computer.”

  “Where is it?”

  “In the living room.”

  Oz laughed. “Want to stop and go get it?”

  “Not really.”

  “Use your imagination, then. What would you do if my dick was in front of your mouth?”

  The fact that Oz seemed like he could give lessons in phone sex didn’t necessarily mean it was because he was on the down-low.