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“You look like what you are. An eager 24-year-old who’s ready to take on the world with just a little more financial backing.”
They were meeting Obie at the bank he’d used to get the loan for his tattoo shop, and he had assured them a loan was almost guaranteed since he was cosigning, but Diego was still anxious. Honestly, he was nervous about a lot of things these days. Among his current worries were finding the perfect space to rent, getting a right-sized loan, and launching a business with his best friend who he was pretty sure he was in love with.
That last part was more angst than anxiety. Even though it seemed like Frankie had slowed down on his mission to sleep with every person in the city, he had still never once made a move on Diego. He’d never even asked if Diego would be interested. Hell, sometimes he seemed to flirt more with Seth than he did with Diego.
Diego, a strong, independent man, knew he could approach Frankie with his feelings, but what they had was just so… perfect. He didn’t want to risk messing it up because he’d caught feelings, and even more troublesome than feelings, he had developed an aching lust for his friend. Since he’d gotten his second, and thankfully final, surgery he’d only been with two men. They were classmates he’d formed a fast and deep bond with over their interest in starting their own businesses as well as their identities on the aro/ace scale.
Collin wanted to open a pottery studio that catered to mini figurines, and he identified as a demi gay man, just like Diego. Collin had never been with a trans guy, but he took the news completely in stride, and they had a lot of fun together for a few months. He’d moved to the west coast the day after graduation and had opened a pop-up shop inside of a larger pottery studio and was saving up to buy his own space.
Emilio, who identified as pansexual and aromantic, was very up front with Diego. Not only would he never really be interested in a serious romantic relationship, but he was also moving back to Peru right after graduation. Apparently, he had big plans to help his father expand their tour company, which was just about the coolest thing Diego had ever heard.
They had an explosive first time sleeping together. Diego came three times and forgot which way was up. He hadn’t thought the sex had been nearly as good for Emilio, but he kept coming back for more, so it must not have beentoobad. There was a moment when he even considered going to Peru with Emilio, an invitation he extended often. Diego specialized in high-level management and capital investment analysis; Emilio specialized in strategic vision setting and wanted to do more with marketing and sales. They probably would have made a dynamic team, but Diego knew, deep down, he wanted a romantic partner.
Now, it had been almost a year since he’d had sex, and if he could hook up with any old person just to satisfy his needs he probably would. Sadly, the only person he wanted was currently hopping back and forth in the chilly March air because, even at Diego’s insistence, he’d refused to bring a jacket, claiming it would “cramp his style.” What style that was Diego had no idea. How someone could spend a year in France and still dress like an overgrown frat boy was a complete mystery.
That didn’t stop Diego from wanting to rip off Frankie’s Tommy Hilfiger sweater and…
“So glad you both could make it!” Obie shouted, interrupting Diego’s musing. “The weather’s shit, and I know it’s on the opposite side of town, but if you’re up for it, I want to show you a space that just came on the market, assuming we get this loan, which I’m positive we will.” Obie flew up the stairs towards them. He didn’t slow down and ended up blowing past them in a swirl of his pink skirt and purple trench coat.
Diego and Frankie shared a brief, overwhelmed look, and then jogged inside after him.
“Obadiah!” a woman called to them from where she sat behind an ornate looking desk. She rose from her chair and walked around the desk, gesturing Obie into her office.
Diego and Frankie hesitantly followed him inside, and after an exchange of handshakes, the three of them sat on one sofa while she sat in an armchair catty-cornered to them. For some reason, it reminded Diego of a counselor’s office, or maybe even a therapist's office. He’d been in and out of a lot of those as a child, and into his teens, back when his parents still thought a little therapy could “fix him.”
Diego shook off the thought, gave the woman his most winning smile, and she smiled warmly back at them. Truthfully, this was not at all what he had been expecting. He’d pictured a stuffy man, possibly balding, sitting behind a nondescript desk trying to put one over on them.
Clarice, as she introduced herself, was a petite, middle-aged Black woman who looked like she meant business, but also had a friendly smile, and a warm and inviting office.
Just as Diego wondered who should begin the meeting, a young man in a purple and black blazer walked in carrying a carafe of coffee and four mugs. “Coffee?” he asked and all four of them nodded eagerly. Clarice gestured to the sugar and cream, which were sitting on an ornate tray on the table in front of them.
Frankie doctored his coffee the way he liked it, one cream three sugars, and Diego did the same with one cream and one sugar. Frankie took a sip and his eyes lit up.
“Is this the most recent Nicaraguan blend from Irene’s Imports at the farmers market uptown?" he asked in a rush. The man’s eyebrows shot up.
“It is! I love supporting Irene and I’ve been waiting for the Nicaraguan blend to come back in for months.”
“I mean, it’s amazing, so I understand why! The hints of caramel and cherry are phenomenal and make the most delicious cappuccino.”
“I’m a flat white man myself. Don’t have time for all that frivolous foam,” the man said, a flirty edge coming into his voice as he eyed Frankie up and down.
Diego held his tongue, anddidn’tsay that if this try hard guy tried Colombian coffee, he’d know what true coffee tasted like.
“That works, too, perhaps with a dash of cinnamon to finish it off. Brings out the warmer notes,” Frankie parried.
Clarice was watching them over the rim of her coffee cup, and she said nothing. The man adopted a more relaxed posture, cocking a hip against the back of the sofa as he stared down at Frankie.
“And if I want it iced?” he asked, lifting a challenging eyebrow.
“Well, it might be controversial, but to really lift up the fruity finish I would recommend honey,” Frankie said with a smirk.
“Honey? In coffee?" The man looked duly impressed and intrigued, and not just by Frankie’s coffee knowledge given how he was leering.
Diego wanted to punch the man in his pretty mouth.
“I’d be happy to serve you one,” Frankie turned to face Clarice, “at our new inclusive and multicultural cafe.”
With that, the meeting took off at a breakneck pace with Frankie and Diego expertly delivering the pitch they’d been practicing for the past two weeks. Obie rounded it out with his proposal for co-signing on the loan with the intent to be bought out within five years.
