The Brotherhood 11: Nothing Like Experience Read online

  “Oh, tough luck,” Miranda said sympathetically. “Sure.” She lifted up the black plastic office phone, resting it on the wooden part of the counter. “Just dial ‘9’ to get out, and you should be set.”

  Chance bit his lip. “Is there another phone? I kind of... well, it’s sort of private...”

  Miranda raised one neatly plucked eyebrow. Allen could read her thoughts without even trying. But to her credit, she rolled her chair back and merely said, “Down here at the other end.”

  As Miranda helped Chance to a more private phone, Allen focused on the Tickets, Tickets screen and its bouncing logo that ran the length of the monitor. No other movement so far. God, the site had to be crowded with people wanting to see the singer with the voice that sent you straight to heaven. He began to sing again -- under his breath -- just a few lines of that latest hit and waited for something, anything, to happen.

  He refused to look over at Chance, even though he could damn well feel it when Chance glanced his way with those big, earnest eyes. Tuning out the sounds of the young man’s sweet, shy voice speaking in low tones, he directed his attention to the returning Miranda. “Nothing yet.”

  “Figures.” Miranda sighed. “Well, at least you got lucky with the tickets for Ellie.” She nudged him. “Not many guys would do something like this, even for someone they’re currently dating.”

  Allen squirmed. “Like I said, we parted on good terms. We’re... friends. Once I was honest with her, we got even closer. Go figure, huh?”

  “Sometimes separation is what’s needed to make a man and woman come together.” Miranda looked down at her empty ring finger. “Which is something I’ll probably never know about myself.”

  “If you start dating again anytime soon, run the man past me first so I can assess him with a weirdness meter,” Allen warned. “You have a way of picking out the ones who aren’t for you. Or sane.”

  “Do not.”

  “You remember Hairy Pete, the biker? Wild Dick, the porn shop clerk? Or what about--”

  “I get it, I get it.” Miranda held up her hands. “Sheesh, you make a couple of mistakes...”

  “A couple? Miranda, your dating history is more checkered than a red-and-white tablecloth. You’re worse than me.”

  “God, thanks.”

  Allen ignored her. “All I’m saying is, be careful who you choose next. And for goodness’s sake, think long and hard about who you marry. If he turns out to be a dud, I get to say I told you so. A lot. But if, worse, you find a decent man and you decide to let go of him, I’ll have to punish you.”

  “Oh, yeah? Sounds kinky. What did you have in mind?”

  “Bad ribaldry. Can you think of a better pun-ishment?”

  “Oh, Lord, help me now. No, thanks. I’d stay with Hannibal Lecter if it meant escaping your jokes, Doc.”

  “May you live to not eat your words,” Allen said solemnly. Miranda gave him a look, then groaned and cracked up. “What, cat got your tongue?”

  “Sheesh, Doc. Oh, wait, hey. Hey! Look -- yeah -- look at that!” Miranda thumped the desk in excitement. “Shit! You got lucky twice!”

  “No way.” Allen rolled his chair closer. He stared at the confirmation screen. “I don’t believe it. Two more tickets to the concert.”

  “Not bad, huh?”

  “Not bad? Try effing unbelievable!” Allen couldn’t help reaching out to grab Miranda in a death hug. “You’re the best.”

  “Sweet Jesus almighty, don’t choke a girl.” Miranda coughed and pushed at Allen. Then she grinned broadly. “I know how to get the job done, huh?”

  “That you do.”

  “I’m finished with the phone now,” Chance said, startling them. Allen took a glance at the edible young man, who looked both embarrassed and hesitant. “I’ve got someone coming to give me a ride, and someone to fix my car.”

  “Glad you were able to get some help.” Miranda tilted her head to a side. “Where’s Spot?”

  Chance ducked his head. “Out in the Bug. His leash broke. I got lucky and he didn’t go running anywhere but into the backseat.”

  “I’d recommend something stronger,” Allen said absently, not able to restrain himself. Get it? Restrain? his mental joker gibed. “We have some for sale here. Miranda? Grab one from the stockroom.”

  Chance shook his head. “I can’t afford that.”

  Allen raised an eyebrow. “It’s only fifteen ninety-five. You don’t want Spot going off alone.”

  “Oh, no. No.” Chance shook his head emphatically, sending honey-blond hair tumbling across his shoulders. “It’s just that the office visit took all my money. I don’t think he’d leave me, but this is a busy road. I’d really hate it if he got too excited and went out into traffic.”

  “What would you do if he did?” Allen asked, surprising himself with the question. He heard the bristly prickliness in his tone and hated that it had to be there. But, God, he needed Chance to keep his distance.

  Chance blinked, his blue eyes mildly hurt. “I’d follow him,” he said slowly, as if he knew his answer was right but wasn’t sure that Allen wouldn’t snap his head off no matter what he said. “I’d try to stop the cars.”

  “Good.”

  “Good?” Miranda echoed, swiveling around to stare at Allen.

  “Shows he cares. If you don’t want a leash, then good evening, Chance. We’re closing down, but you can wait outside. Miranda, would you mind printing off my confirmations?”

  Miranda gave Allen a dose of hairy eyeball, but nodded. “’Night, Chance.”

  Chance wavered. “I can’t stay inside?” He rubbed his arms. With nothing but a thin T-shirt on, he suddenly looked very small and cold. “I won’t be a bother, I promise.”

  “Outside,” Allen said firmly.

  “Yeah, but Doc--”

  “Outside.”

  Miranda sighed. “Okay. Sorry, Chance. Hope your ride gets here soon. Thanks for choosing Charleston Regional. Good luck with the new dog.” She kicked Allen under the desk. “Good luck, right?”

  “Absolutely,” Allen said, focusing on the computer screen. “Best of it.”

  Chance hesitated for a minute, something clearly on his mind that he couldn’t bring himself to say. He nodded slowly, then turned around to go. Allen took a peek and saw that the young man’s shoulders were slumped, as if he’d been deeply disappointed about something.

  A part -- a big part -- of Allen wanted to vault over the counter and go give the kid a hug. But, no, God, no. He was never getting involved with a younger man again if he could possibly help himself. Allen knew that Chance was too big a temptation to resist unless he kept iron control over his own impulses.

  As the doors closed behind Chance, Miranda rounded on Allen. “What the fuck was that all about?” she demanded as she clicked on the “print” icon. “A gorgeous young thing who is clearly interested and you kick him to the curb? What is wrong with you?”

  Allen shook his head. “Don’t start, Miranda.”

  “Like hell I won’t.” Miranda reached down to tap the printer as it hummed, warming up. “You can’t keep everyone at arm’s reach, Allen. Not if you ever want to get laid again in this lifetime.”

  Those were words that could cause any man to squirm. If Miranda had been a voodoo priestess, her little speech would have sounded like a curse. “I don’t push everyone away,” Allen protested. “Just...”

  “Just the cute ones who happen to be slanted your way?”

  “It’s not like that.” Allen adjusted his tie a bit more. It hung loosely around his neck now, the chicken at a lopsided angle against the carefully toned muscles of his stomach. “Besides, how do you know he’s gay?”

  Miranda grinned wickedly. “Because I didn’t faze him.”

  “Okay, point. A good one. But, Miranda, you know how I feel about dating... and he’s one of the clients. I mean, come on.”

  “What? It’s not like human/doctor relationships. The patient in question is a dog. And so are you for se
nding him on his way.”

  “I know better, that’s all. There’s nothing like experience.” Allen stood and held out a hand. “Got my confirmations?”

  Miranda snatched two sheets of paper out of the battered office printer and thrust them into Allen’s hands. “I’d have thought you’d be over that crazy Joey by now. Not all guys are like him. I mean, what about that bunch you do group therapy with?”

  “Oh, God. Do not mention them. Never mention that crowd again in my hearing.” Allen folded the papers into a neat square and shoved them in the pocket of his business slacks. “They’re not group therapy. They’re an exercise in how to make men feel two inches tall.”

  “What about long?” Miranda cracked. “Seriously, Doc. You’ve gotta get back on the horse sometime. Sure, Joey knocked you out of the saddle, but--”

  “One more equine-related cliché and I’ll have your job.”

  “After I got you these tickets?”

  “Miranda, dear, I adore you. But leave my personal life alone, okay?” Allen headed for the small closet where everyone hung their jackets and peeled out of his lab coat. He should take it home for a wash, covered as it was in fine animal hair, but the evening looked to be a warm one.

  Allen frowned. What the hell was up, then, with Chance’s “cold” act?

  Shaking his head, he hung up the coat, shut the closet, and turned around to face Miranda, who was looking at him with a wounded expression. “Miranda, don’t be like that. I do adore you. I’d never take your job. But you have to learn when enough is enough, okay?”

  She took on a skeptical look. “Funny how it wasn’t too much when we were talking about Ellie. Then suddenly the subject changes to people you might have a chance at hooking up with, or at least be interested in, and then I’m pushing. Doc, do us all a favor and get over yourself, okay?”

  The comment stung. Allen sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Miranda... I’m sorry. I just... I can’t get involved with someone right now. Especially not someone Chance’s age. I’m not ready.”

  Miranda picked at the mouse mat, which was curling up at one corner. “So if he were closer to your age?”

  “That might make a difference. Maybe.”

  “The guy can’t be more than ten years younger than you. It’s not such a big difference.”

  “Try about fifteen years younger.” Allen folded his arms and shook his head. “Miranda, I appreciate what you’re trying to do. But, seriously, stay out of this one. I’m dealing the best way I can since that catastrophe with Joey. It takes time, that’s all.”

  “Hmph.” Miranda turned back to the desk and picked up a chart. “Okay, I won’t push, but I will say that you’re being a jackass. Then we’ll call it even.”

  “Can’t argue with that, and far be it from me to mince words with a pretty lady.”

  “Flattery gets you nowhere. Save it for someone you want to have a chance with.” Miranda chortled. “Chance, get it?”

  Allen rolled his eyes. “I’m starting to rub off on you.”

  “Again with the kinky.”

  “Goodnight, Miranda.” Allen crossed to the computer, affectionately tousling Miranda’s glossy waves of dark hair. She made a noise of protest and reached up to knock his arm away. “You’re one of the good ones.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she grumbled. Her expression did soften, however, and Allen figured he was out of the doghouse. So to speak. Confirmations safe in his pocket, all accoutrements of the job tucked away in lockers and closets, he was ready to go.

  “See you next week,” he offered, testing the peace salvo.

  Miranda looked up with a dimmed version of her usual grin -- but, still, a benevolent look. “Go on. Get outta here, will you?”

  “I’m so gone.” Allen did vault the counter, pleased at himself for being able to do it in one leap without even pulling something or knocking anything down.

  Miranda whistled. “Damn, you’re in good shape. ’Course, I’d have had to whip the shit out of you if you’d made a mess.”

  “Good thing I didn’t, then, huh?” Allen chuckled and ran his thumbs beneath the once-crisp edge of his shirt lapels. “Take it easy, Miranda.”

  “Take your own advice. G’night, Doc.”

  “’Night.” A quick check to make sure he had his wallet and keys and Allen was on his way out the front door. The bell jingled overhead, and he reached up to give it an extra tap. The chimes followed him out into the early Charleston evening, where the moon was just beginning to be visible at partially full and the skies were turning a slightly darker blue. He paused to admire the thick clouds scudding across the horizon, then looked down at the row of cars toward his restored classic Chevy.

  Instead, he saw Chance standing in front of a small, dented, red VW Bug. Spot was visible in the backseat, trying to thrust his muzzle out the partially opened window and whining as if he were in serious distress. Allen’s veterinary instincts drove him to step in that direction before he got a good look at the two men talking with Chance.

  Although they didn’t seem to be talking so much as... intimidating. Allen frowned as one of the pair, big and bulky with buzz-cut black hair, jabbed a thick finger into Chance’s chest. He said something too low for Allen to hear, but from the way Chance’s eyes widened and he shook his head frantically, it couldn’t have been good. The other man, shorter and scragglier, with a loose flannel shirt covered in stains, snickered, the noise carrying through the air.

  Allen knew better, but his damn big mouth decided to open on its own. “There some kind of problem here, Chance?”

  Chance looked in Allen’s direction. There was a flash of relief, a glimpse of something like hope, and then those baby blues shuttered as if he had decided he couldn’t trust Allen with this... whatever it was. “No problem,” he said in his sweet voice. “These are my... well, they aren’t exactly--” He gave up. “They’re my brothers.”

  “The hell we are,” Buzz-cut grumbled loudly. “I swear, Chance, if you get in trouble one more time, you’re out.”

  “I don’t mean to.” Chance’s hand stole up to his hair. “It’s just my car...”

  “We don’t give a shit about your car. You call us up, it better be on important business.” Buzz-cut poked Chance again. “You’re on thin ice, kid. Watch yourself before someone takes care of you.”

  Now why doesn’t that sound reassuring? Allen felt himself bristle. “Chance, are these men threatening you?” He kept his voice level. “I can call the cops. There’s a cell phone in my pocket.”

  “You’d better not call no fucking cops,” Scraggly Guy snarled. “We can take care of ourselves.”

  “And Chance, too?” Allen’s hand went to his pocket. “You take one more step toward him, and the men in uniform will be here in a heartbeat.”

  Buzz-cut rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Chance. You go and get involved with every fucking queer in the city?”

  “Excuse me?” Allen blurted just as Chance said, quickly, “No!”

  “Better not,” Scraggly butted in. “You’re a damn humiliation as things are. Don’t go dragging the rest of us down.”

  “With you, it wouldn’t be a big trip,” Allen said before he could censor himself. “Chance, step away from those two. Get your dog and move along to the blue Chevy.” All three men hesitated, giving Allen the advantage. “Go on, Chance. Move.”

  Chance darted a look at Buzz-cut and Scraggly, then ducked his head and opened the backseat door of his car. “Come on, Spot,” he whispered. He got his hand around Spot’s collar. “Come on. It’s okay. Yeah, it’s okay.” Those beautiful fingers stroked the Dalmatian’s glossy coat. “Come with Daddy.”

  Buzz-cut made a noise of disgust. “God, you’re sick.”

  Allen shook his head. “My finger’s just about on the speed-dial button,” he warned. “Get away from him.”

  Scraggly and Buzz-cut exchanged glances, seeming to come to some decision.

  “Fine,” Buzz-cut said impatientl
y. “Chance, don’t think you’ve heard the last of this, understand? We’ll finish up later.”

  Chance turned red. All the same, he kept his mouth shut and started herding Spot toward Allen’s car, moving slowly and carefully with his hand hooked in the dog’s collar. He flicked his gaze up as he passed Allen. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  Buzz-cut and Scraggly snorted in unison, then moved toward a rusty black Jeep with mud splatters decorating its sides. “Don’t you be late for the next pack meeting,” Buzz-cut warned. “We’ll be discussing all of this mess.”

  “I won’t,” Chance promised. “Miss it, I mean.” He faltered. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry don’t mean shit,” Scraggly said in disdain. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  “He isn’t a threat.” Buzz-cut jerked his head toward Allen. “But, Chance, you know what we can do. Pick your sides more carefully next time.”

  Allen bristled again. “Move,” he ordered flatly. “WOLF-0012. That’s your license plate number. I can have you tracked.”

  Buzz-cut and Scraggly looked startled for a moment. The big, bulky man shoved his smaller friend. “Come on,” he grunted. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  They piled into the Jeep and took off, not even bothering to put their seatbelts on. Allen watched the two go, uncharitably hoping that they’d have a nice little one-car run-in with a tree.

  Then, reality sinking in, he turned back to Chance. The man stood by Allen’s car, his hair rumpled around his face and his eyes wide. His expression was troubled despite Spot’s licking his hand as if he were trying to reassure him.

  Allen took a deep breath and faced the gorgeous young man down.

  Great. What have I gotten myself into now?

  Chapter Three

  “Buckle your seatbelt.” Damned if the short words weren’t all Allen trusted himself with. Simple sentences were great. Monosyllables would be best. With a guy like Chance in his car, nothing more than polite, mundane, and completely boring conversation would be the absolute safest course.