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“Wait, I’m sorry, the real estate guy is throwing a party…”
“Yeah,” Stevie reaches across the countertop and dusts off a spot in front of David. The last guest was about to check into the motel for the evening and she was more than ready to check out and have a few drinks.
“He just started a new business organizing closets or something. He’s trying to get more customers.”
David grimaces. “So this is like… a launch party. In his… living room.” His mind wanders to the many lavish parties of his past from rooftops in New York City to nightclubs in Los Angeles.
“More or less, yeah,” Stevie shrugs. “Look,” she says, David’s disapproval already ringing loudly in her ears. “I’ve had a long day at work, and I know you’re still fighting through some nerves about filing your incorporation papers tomorrow. So… I say we head over around 8?”
…
It was definitely no West Hollywood nightclub and the turnout was unsurprisingly pretty small. But Ray’s offering of drinks wasn’t too bad, he seemed to have passable taste in music, and maybe there’d even be someone cute for David to meet, Stevie had suggested.
“Ooh, like that guy,” she nods over toward the kitchen.
“That guy looks like if Roland grew a ponytail and started writing beatnik poetry.”
“No,” Stevie points to the man on the other side of the kitchen. “Him.”
David looks at the man in the blue button-down. “That guy? He looks like he carries his cellphone on his belt and golfs for fun.” Although, David notices, those jeans did look quite good on him. He watches the man for a second as he nurses his beer and taps an unremarkable brown shoe along to “Raspberry Beret” playing at a very controlled volume over Ray’s second-hand speakers.
Then, before he knows what’s happening, Stevie is pulling him along with her, past beatnik Roland and straight toward this stranger in the nicely-fitting jeans.
The man’s foot stops tapping as soon as Stevie approaches him.
“Hi,” she smiles at him. “I’ve never seen you around here before.”
David rolls his eyes.
The man smiles and places his beer down on the kitchen counter. David immediately notices the laugh lines around the corners of his eyes.
“Yeah, I just moved here not too long ago,” he sticks his hand out. “I’m Patrick.”
“Stevie,” she says. Patrick nods then looks over at David. His eyes are kind and dance across David's face and suddenly David begins to feel a little dizzy. He tries to turn to leave.
“This is David,” Stevie pushes him forward before he can move. “David Rose.”
“David Rose?” Patrick quirks his head to the side and shakes his hand. “You bought the General Store.”
“Leased.... leased the General Store -- um, how… how do you know about that?”
“Well, looks like I actually have an appointment with you here tomorrow,” Patrick is grinning. David wants to be annoyed with this man he just met who won't stop smiling and already knows too much about him, but, looking into his warm, round eyes, he finds that he can’t.
"Isn't this just serendipitous?" David glares at Stevie who's simply smiling and mouthing I didn't know.
“Well,” she exclaims with uncharacteristic cheerfulness. “Looks like I’m needed… there, ” she points to the bar set up at the back of the kitchen where actual Roland is pouring himself a drink.
“Oh, and David,” she says sweetly over her shoulder like an afterthought. “Maybe Patrick can help you with some of those concerns you had about your business.”
“What concerns?” he practically shouts. “I have a very clear idea. I’ve walked you through it one too many times,” he says to her retreating figure.
Patrick looks like he’s trying to hold back a laugh when David turns back around.
“So you need some help with your business?”
“Um, no,” David says. “I mean… maybe. Probably. At some point. But I’m sure you don’t want to talk shop now especially at this… extremely happening party.”
Patrick does laugh now and folds his arms over his chest.
“I don’t mind helping you out, David,” he says earnestly. “In fact, let me start by getting you something to drink.”
"Thank you," David smiles. "I’ll have a glass of Chardonnay, please.”
Patrick nods and turns toward the bar. Of course, David watches him walk away. Patrick has one hand tucked securely into the pocket of his jeans and smells faintly of citrus and fabric softener as he walks past him and David can't help but smile.
Patrick returns just as "I Would Die 4 U" starts playing through the speakers.
“So I’m beginning to think that Ray only listens to Prince,” David notes with a quick laugh. He takes the glass of wine from Patrick’s hand and their fingers brush each other’s lightly.
“Do you have something against Prince?” Patrick asks, amused.
“Of course not,” David says. “I’d just like some variety for my ears if my eyes are going to be subjected to this horrendous wallpaper all night.” He waves his hand at the wall behind Patrick.
“You know, he was actually playing some Earth, Wind & Fire right when you got here,” Patrick takes a long sip of his beer.
“Oh,” David gets a little quieter. “So you… so you saw me… get here?” he asks awkwardly. He takes a small sip of his wine.
Patrick swallows hard and places his beer back on the counter. “I, uh -- “ He stutters, looking at his hand. He starts to move the bottle in slow, small circles, then looks back up at David, a casual certainty in his eyes.
“Yeah, I did.”
…
David's on his third glass of wine and Patrick on his second when the music switches over to what appears to be Ray’s Diana Ross playlist. They're sitting on the couch now, David with his right leg tucked under his left like a flamingo. Patrick is angled attentively toward David, their knees almost touching.
"Wait, so you live here?" David tries not to sound too judgmental.
Patrick laughs. "Yeah, I know, it's definitely not the, uh, what was it? The work-play space you had in SoHo."
"It was a live-work space, actually. And, honestly, this place is bigger than the studio I had."
"Ah. Well I've hit the jackpot then," Patrick says. "Anyway, yeah, Ray has been nice enough to let me stay here. I sort of… showed up in town without warning. Needed a place kind of last minute."
David knew how that went. He wonders what circumstances drew Patrick to this town. Surely nothing at all like the ones that brought his family here. Now distracted, his eyes drift back to the wallpaper around them and he can't hide the look of contempt that crosses his face.
Patrick grins at him. "You really don't like this wallpaper, huh?"
“It’s just… I find this particular level of kitsch quite offensive.“
Patrick huffs out another laugh. “You should see the one in my bedroom, then.”
He didn’t mean it like that, the momentary look of embarrassment in Patrick's eyes tells David as much. But, just like that, David is now acutely aware that he's not just sitting on a couch at a party with an attractive man, but that he's actually sitting on this attractive man’s couch and that his bedroom was right upstairs.
Patrick repositions himself so their knees are definitely touching now, and oh, David thinks, maybe he did mean it like that after all. David locks eyes with Patrick and holds his gaze.
Patrick slowly, gingerly, sneaks a hand along the back of the couch, just past David's shoulder, and grabs at the bright orange crochet blanket draped behind them, his eyes never leaving David's.
"What about this?" he asks, pulling the poorly-made piece toward them, his voice has a slightly different tone to it now, rougher. “Is this offensive?” There are giant purple flowers sewn in among the orange.
“Mm,” David nods. He brings his hand out to where Patrick is holding the blanket and twines his fingers through the loose fabric, examining the thread, his knuckles settling against Patrick's. "Very."
Patrick doesn't blink. “I’ll make sure to tell Ray.”
"So, I'm going to head out," Stevie’s voice is loud behind them, startling them both.
It's loud, David realizes, because Diana Ross was no longer singing. In fact, the music had stopped altogether. David looks around for the first time since he sat down with Patrick over an hour ago and notices most of the party had disbursed. He looks up at the clock on the wall behind Stevie.
"Yeah, shocking that Ray's parties don't last past 11 p.m.," she says sarcastically. She turns on her heel to leave. "Anyway. Have fun… incorporating. It was nice to meet you, Patrick."
"You, too," he says belatedly, a minute too late, to no one. Stevie is already at the door.
“So," David starts after a moment, trying but failing to stop the smirk spreading across his face. David feels like he’s been smiling since he first shook Patrick’s hand. "Um, it looks like the party’s over."
"Looks like it,” Patrick says, eyes hard-set on David again, not looking around at all. “But," he adds with a knowing grin. "I think we still have a lot to discuss here yet. You said you needed help with your business, right?" He slowly puts the blanket back over the couch and shifts even closer to David.
"Mm, right," David agrees, pressing his lips together.
“Alright,” Patrick straightens slightly and his leg rubs against David’s. “Why don’t we start with the name of the business?” His voice is soft and low.
“I’m oscillating between two names at the moment,” David answers, just as softly.
Patrick nods. “Business address?”
“Okay, so I’m working on that,” he nearly whispers.
“Hm. Then here’s an easy one,” and his hand creeps onto David’s knee. “Brief description of the business.”
“Well, it’s -- um,” his eyes flicker down to Patrick’s hand. “It’s a General Store, but it's also a very specific store.”
“Huh,” Patrick licks his lips.
“It’s like a place where people can come and get coffee…” David trails off, thoroughly distracted now. He swallows. “It’s more like a branded immersive experience,” he explains slowly.
“I love the buzzwords, David,” Patrick says. His voice is throaty and his thumb begins to trace circles on David’s knee. “But, I’ll tell you what. I think you have a big appointment with someone tomorrow morning. So why don’t we save this for a later time?”
David hums in agreement. "Do you have a, um, business card maybe? I might need it... for a later time." David moves his hand onto Patrick’s, just barely interlacing their fingers.
A calculating smile forms across Patrick’s soft lips. “I do," he says.
There's a heavy pause and David takes a long, shuddery breath.
Patrick bites his lip. "Close your eyes,” he tells him then.
David does, his mouth twitching. He's expecting Patrick to kiss him. But instead he feels Patrick’s hand slip out from under his and then feels him get up off the couch and walk in front of him. He hears a bit of rummaging and the sound of paper to his left. He thinks this guy might… actually be getting his business card.
“Okay,” Patrick’s voice is soft again as he sits back down. David feels the cushions sag a little under his weight. He opens his eyes slowly.
“So, I have hidden that card somewhere on my person,” Patrick starts, pulling his hand out from behind his back. His voice is very measured but there’s desire and mischief in his eyes. "And if you want it, you’re going to have to come and get it.” He casually picks up his glass of wine and takes a slow, expectant sip.
David blinks, then nods his head slowly, the sly, upturned curve at the corner of his mouth saying, alright, challenge accepted. And then in one swift motion, he leans over, grabs Patrick’s wine glass out of his hand, places it back onto the table, and presses him down into the couch.
Wine glass and talks of business now abandoned, Patrick’s mouth parts under his. He drags a kiss along the edge of David’s jaw then sucks on his bottom lip and David forgets what he was supposed to be looking for entirely. But when Patrick pulls back to look at him, those kind eyes now dark and dilated, his thumbs running across his lips as he breathes out a thick, “David,” he feels like he's found something.