Page 18 of Conquest

Evan propped his head on his fist with his elbow resting on the door, watching him with an amused grin.

Jesse cranked the key again, willing with his mind for the engine to turn over. The truck grumbled, then burst to life. He nearly yelled out in joy at his victory over his mechanical adversary.

Evan chuckled softly. “I think that’s the first miracle I’ve ever witnessed.”

Jesse laughed as he wrenched the shifter into gear. “I won’t deny it’s a piece of shit, but it’s good for hauling our gear. I’d like to get a Honda S2000 someday and trick it out.” Out the corner of his eye, he saw Evan smirking, and took his eyes off the road to look at him. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. I’m sure when you get older, you’ll prefer a more big boy car.”

Jesse returned Evan’s smirk with one of his own. “I’d expect someone your age to say something like that. I mean, how old are you anyway, like thirty-four, thirty-five?”

Evan gasped in mock offense at Jesse repeating his earlier joke. “I’m twenty-six! I’ll be twenty-seven next month!” He shoved Jesse playfully on the shoulder. “You’re a funny little spud, you know that?”

Jesse choked out a shocked cough. “Did you just call me a little spud?”

Evan grinned at him and pointed across the street. “My car’s in there.”

Jesse swung into the parking garage. His gaze fell on a sleek black Ferrari backed into a parking space with the garage security guard standing watch over it from his truck.

Evan nodded toward the car. “That’s me. The Scaglietti 612.”

Jesse pulled near the Ferrari, though not too close for fear that even the reflection of his decrepit Ranger in the glossy paint would mar its beauty. His eyes moved over the flawless lines of the vehicles. “It’s beautiful.” He turned to Evan with a grin. “Now I’ll admit that what I’d really love to have someday is a Ferrari F430, dark blue.”

“That’s more like it.” Evan jumped out of the truck and waved to the security guard to let him know all was good. He turned back to Jesse. “You can look at it up close, if you want.”

Jesse sprang from his truck and followed Evan to the driver’s side of the Ferrari. Evan disarmed the car alarm and opened the door for him. As Jesse bent forward at the waist to peer inside, Evan battled back the compulsion to slide his fingers around the perfect curve of Jesse’s ass.

Jesse gazed at the interior, the bucket seats so low they seemed only inches from the ground, the black dash accented with brushed aluminum, same as the knobs and dials for the CD player, other controls, and the brake and throttle. His eyes drifted up to the black leather steering wheel with controls for the car at Evan’s fingertips and the yellow Ferrari logo featuring the black prancing stallion in the center.

He straightened and turned toward Evan. “How fast does it go?”

“It tops out at around two hundred or so.”

“Have you ever had it up that fast?”

“How do you think I know where it cuts off?” Evan moved around Jesse and got in. The car roared to life at his command, and he looked up at him. “I hope you’ll be able to keep up. I tend to be a bit of a speed demon, but I’ll try to go slow with you.”

Uncertain if Evan was referring to driving or something else, Jesse’s mind went blank for a response.

Jesse’s sudden speechlessness brought Evan’s earlier doubts to the surface once again. “That is, if you still feel like coming over.”

Jesse presented him with his brightest smile. “Of course I do. It’s not even close to my bedtime.”

“Then follow me,” Evan said, closing the car door.

Jesse walked back to his truck. He waited for Evan to pull out of the parking space, then taking a deep breath, hit the throttle to follow him.

CHAPTER SIX

His eyes on the taillights of the black 612 ahead, Jesse didn’t remember much of the drive to Evanston, his mind was occupied with the single thought that he was going to Evan Arden’s home. He had only been up to Evanston a couple times before, once when Brandon scored football tickets to see the Boilermakers versus the Wildcats, and another time when he took a campus tour of Northwestern, but he liked the town, and now with the warm early May weather, the trees lining the streets burst with green blossoms.

He glanced at his cell phone on the passenger seat. He should call Brandon. He always called him after a show and if he didn’t, then Brandon would start ringing him like a spaz. He was surprised Brandon hadn’t called already, then remembered he was going to make his move that night on a stagehand he’d been eyeballing. He could bet as soon as Brandon finished with him, his phone would be lighting up.

But what would he tell him? He couldn’t lie and tell him he was home. For one thing, his and Brandon’s relationship didn’t involve such deceit. For another, he couldn’t lie to save his life. If he admitted he had met someone and was going to his house, Brandon would demand to know who, and if he told him, he’d never believe him. That really seemed the only way to go, though. If he was lucky he could just leave a message.

Jesse grabbed his cell phone and hit the number two to speed dial Brandon’s cell, muttering to himself, “Don’t pick up. Please be pounding Joe Stagehand through your bed. Don’t pick—”

“Hey, this is Brandon. You missed me, sorry ‘bout your luck. But don’t be too sad. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you eventually.”