“That sounds nice.” Camilo’s face turned wistful when I said that, and it made me want to know all about him. Know all the reasons that made that heart-stopping smile escape his lips, so I could do away with them one by one.
“It was. My mom is a sociology professor at the public university, so in addition to our relatives, we always had students and other faculty using our living room to have political meetings or for planning protests. It was an interesting household to grow up in. How about you? Do you have a big family?”
He shook his head at my question, the wistfulness still there in his eyes. “It’s just me and my mom.” He pursed his mouth and then smiled. “Well, that’s not completely true. I also have my three best friends, Nesto, Patrice, and Juanpa, and their families.”
So a best friend, not a boyfriend. I could live with that.
“But my mom came from Cuba on her own. She was a Marielita.” His voice grew stronger when he said that, and I nodded, letting him know I understood what he meant.
“She must be a hell of a woman.” He smiled at me again. I was already addicted to pulling those out of him. That could be my new full-time job: making Camilo Briggs smile.
“She really is. My dad passed away from cancer when I was ten. He was Jamaican and other than my grandma, who died when I was still a baby, he didn’t have any close family here. So it was just the two of us for a while.”
He paused there, like he was deciding on whether he should say whatever went next in the story, then he squared his shoulder and kept talking.
“My mom started seeing this man, Ramon, who turned out to be very abusive a couple of years after my dad died. He wasnice at first, but once he started helping her out financially, he got violent. Things were bad for a while, but the summer before eighth grade, I came out to her and that lit a fire under her.” His face grew more serious then. “I’m sorry you and your mom had to go through that.” The need go find this Ramon and beat his ass churned in my gut.
“I think her fear of how he’d react to me being gay, or the possibility he’d hurt me, was the last straw for her.” His brows dipped and I could tell whatever he was thinking of was not a good memory, but from one breath to the next, he smiled again. “My friend Patrice’s mom helped us get settled in the Bronx where they lived, and the rest is history.”
“Sounds like you’re both survivors.” He shrugged trying to dismiss the compliment. The more I learned about Camilo Briggs, the more I wanted to know.
“Was that experience with your mom the reason you got into this work?”
At my question, his face went serious again, not sad, just like he wanted to take his time with his answer. He leaned back and put his hand under his chin before finally responding. “Partly. It certainly had an impact on me, but I do this work because I love it and because I’m good at it.” His certainty and passion was intoxicating. I just sat there in silence, getting my fill of all the energy Camilo exuded.
“Thank you for sharing all that with me,” I said sincerely.
He broke eye contact then and looked down for a moment.
“I sort of Google stalked you.” I laughed at how embarrassed he sounded.
“You did?” I asked, surprised.
He widened his eyes at my question, a look of complete disbelief on his face.
“Of course I did! I needed to know what to expect. You have to admit, the circumstances around our meeting were a bit unusual.”
An image of him on his knees with his mouth stretched out from my cock flashed in my mind. The effect was like lightning, every nerve in my body lit up at once. I wondered if Camilo could tell what I was thinking.
I cleared my throat and tried to bring us back to the conversation, before I broke my promise to not make him uncomfortable.
“So what did you find out about me?”
He shrugged and took another bite of the plate he’d been working on.
“Mostly stuff about your business, which was very impressive by the way,” he said raising an eyebrow. “I resisted the urge to go into Page Six or other gossipy sites. I just wanted some background and to make sure you didn’t get all your money running sweatshops or something.”
I laughed at that. “Fair enough.” As I was about to ask if he’d like to order something else, just so I could keep him with me a little longer, my phone went off. When I looked at the screen, I saw it was Maxwell asking me to call him about something regarding Libe.
Camilo was staring between me and my phone when I looked up.
“You need to take that?”
I grimaced. “Yes, I’m sorry.” I’d promised myself I’d ask him if he was comfortable with continuing to meet, even if it gave him an out, so I made myself follow through. “Are you up for meeting again next week? Only if you’re comfortable, of course.”
He was already gathering his things, so he wasn’t looking at me when he answered. “Sure, this was a lot less painful than I anticipated.”
I laughed again, surprising myself. I was not usually this excitable, but Camilo’s presence was like oxygen in my blood, and I hadn’t gotten nearly enough. “Excellent. I’ll see you next week Camilo.” I lifted my hand to ask for the check as he gathered his things and slipped out of the booth.
