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Reid lowers his gaze ever so slightly. “You’ll like it, it’s sweet like you.”
Before I have a chance to respond, our exchange is thwarted by an incoming message on his phone. He glances down into the device, examining the message all the while scowling.This could be about his company’s involvement in the financial ruse I’m being sent to investigate.
CHAPTER FIVE
REID
This boy is a hard page to read. I was expecting Kragen to be the age he said on Grindr, but didn’t in a million years think that he’d be the one I ran into inside the lobby of my Kuhio Beach resort. He’s far mouthier than the other day, but it isn’t without a certain endearing charm. The level of intrigue has my Daddy instincts piqued immediately.
He sits opposite me in my exclusive booth at The Palace. Since I’m here on a frequent basis, this table is basically a piece of my own personal real estate. All I need is an official deed, and I’ll gladly pay property taxes for the promise of a table always readily available for my diningand entertainingneeds.
Kragen seems uncomfortable, or in the least bit shyer now that we’re for all intents and purposes out on a date. If I had to wager a guess about why, it might have something to do with the birthmark on his forehead. Though I can’t for the life of me understand why it makes him uneasy. This Daddy finds his unique appeal sweeter than sin.I wanna put him in the next Fairchild Resorts commercial.
My favorite server, Penny, leaves us to our pineapple mimosas which affords me a moment to decide what we’ll be eating today. He’s told me his preference and that he most definitely doesn’t enjoy seafood. But his ticket to my ready cock is eating every bite of what Daddy orders for him.And only good boys get rewarded.No sooner do I convince Kragen that he’ll like what I choose, when my phone chirps with an incoming text. It’s from Jimmie Lein, causing me to scowl at the mere sight of his name.
Sorry about last night, man. I don’t know what got into me other than Cass giving me a mountain of snow. So I guess you could say I wasn’t in my own head.
This is precisely why I no longer partake in party favors of any sort. Apart from some booze—which I can toss it back with the best of them—I prefer a clearer head. At least being drunk is a different feeling entirely, and sobering up is far easier.
“Sorry about this,” I blurt, not raising a single eye up at Kragen. “Daddy is a busy guy.”
His head bounces understandingly. “Whatever, it’s fine,” he replies. “This’ll give me an opportunity to reply to my friend anyway.”
Responding to Jimmie at this point is almost the most prudent thing to do. He sealed the end of our friendship last night, so fuck him if he thinks he’s getting a second chance. Reid Fairchild rarely gives second chances. Not since Wade, no Sir.
Sure. I’m not buying what you’re selling. We can part ways now, it’s fine.
PS: I hope your show tanks.
Just about the time I see the read receipt indicate that I’ve caught his attention, I send him back the GIF of Bryan Cranston dropping the mic. Meanwhile, Kragen offers me a perspicacious look as I raise my forehead.
“Everything okay?” He asks, tipping his champagne glass to those shapely lips of his.
“Just some personal matters which are of no consequence to you,” I bite back, gritting my teeth because I fully realize it sounded ruder than I intended. “Let’s just say that people absolutely suck.”
Kragen grins, as if he understands my sentiments to a fine degree. “Oh I get that completely,” he responds. “I don’t have but a couple of good friends.”
“Friends are overrated, my boy,” I respond, taking a sip of my mimosa.
Penny promptly returns to the table, ready to take down our orders. “Decide what you’d like today?”
I nod. “He’ll have the pork teriyaki over white rice with a half order of mahimahi,” I affirm, scratching the base of my nose. “I’ll have a full order of the mahimahi with garlic cream sauce,” I add, catching sight of Kragen squirming in his seat. “And we’ll start with a double order of Chef Kekoa’s signature spring rolls.”
She nods before shuffling away. “So what does Banana Boy do for a living?” I ask, reaching my hands across the table to clasp with his.
Kragen clears his throat, practically nervous as if he wasn’t expecting his Grindr hookup to care about formalities. I’m not a total asshole though. I enjoy getting to know my casual encounters, because nobody knows if it will turn out to be something more than a little bit of play.
“I’m a writer of sorts,” he responds, grimacing. “I guess you could say.”
“You’re not sure?” I shoot back a raised eyebrow. “You either do or you don’t,” I add, squeezing his palm. “Or are you saying you’re an undiscovered talent just waiting to make a big splash in the world of words?”
“Ermm—I’m not an author or anything like that,” he replies, looking away from me. “Actually what I really do is work with our local homeless and disadvantaged youth population back home.”
So he has a big heart. I can get down with that.If it weren’t for the recent fake news on Sploosh indicating that I’m a heartless prick, he might understand just how much I truly do care about people who are less fortunate than I.
“So you like helping people,” I allude. “That’s very admirable.”
He tilts his head. “It keeps me out of trouble back home.”
