The Virgin Manny Read online

  “Man, you weren’t kidding about this guy being loaded. Are you sure they’re going to let me in the front door?”

  Tino eyed his friend critically. Jacob was blond, blue-eyed, and looked like every parent’s dream of a son-in-law. He kept his hair short and was currently dressed in a button-up shirt and cargo shorts without holes. His one vice, visually, was that he could never get the engine grease out from under his fingernails.

  Of course, personally, he was a train wreck of half-finished college courses and half-finished relationships. If Jacob wasn’t underneath a car or pounding out bodywork, he just wasn’t happy.

  “I wouldn’t lock up my daughter around you,” Tino said critically. “And this guy may have checked out my priors, but I don’t think he’s going to see your junior college GPA.”

  Jacob wrinkled his nose. “God, even when you’re being nice, you make me feel like a loser! Can we just get you moved in so I can go back to my parents’ house and look for my cyanide pills?”

  “You’re not a loser!” Tino defended hotly. “You’re just… just a free spirit, that’s all. You’ll find your focus—it’s only a matter of time!”

  “My focus is at the auto body place, man. Someday you’ll see that. Now come on—you promised me free chow.”

  Tino shrugged inwardly, thinking that he wasn’t going to fix Jacob’s life all in one day like he had Arthur’s. For one thing, Jacob didn’t want his life fixed, and Tino was left at sort of a loss. He and Jacob had attended the same honors courses and gotten the same grades. Tino had been salutatorian and Jacob had been in the top ten at their high school in terms of GPA.

  But Jacob wanted none of the same things Tino wanted, and Tino was starting to realize that as they both grew older and into the lives they’d planned for themselves, he was going to lose his friend and security blanket.

  This summer could be one of the last they got to hang out together—and he didn’t see that happening a lot now that he lived on the other side of the moon.

  “Free chow it is,” Tino said, getting out of the truck for his few possessions. “Here, let’s get the small stuff in first, and then—”

  “Don’t worry about any of it,” Channing said, coming out the front door. He looked smashing, actually, wearing some sort of linen pants-and-shirt suit that screamed “rich guy doing brunch,” and he was followed by two guys in faded blue work shirts that said Professional Drapery Service on the front. “Here—I borrowed some of my friend’s people to move you in.”

  Tino knew his mouth opened and closed a few times. “But… it’s just a couple of—”

  “Don’t sweat it,” said the slightly built guy behind Channing. He was in his fifties with thick graying hair and cheater glasses, but still pretty fit. “Me and Byron were out here anyway doing an install—”

  “On Sunday?” Tino squeaked.

  “For a friend,” the guy said cheerfully. “You want this in the bedroom we just did the install for, Mr. Lowell?”

  “Yes please, Phil. That would be great.”

  “Oh!” Tino recognized the name of both the guy and the company now. “You’re Arthur’s boss!” Oh this was good—Phil seemed to be a decent guy.

  “And you’re his friend,” Phil said gently. “We like Artie—we’ll keep him around awhile. Now go inside for brunch. We already had some, it’s awesome.”

  Tino and Jacob had no choice, really—they followed Channing into the giant house, which, for the record, had not gotten any less intimidating now that Tino knew he was going to be living here.

  “Easiest move ever,” Jacob breathed as they breached the front door.

  “Yeah, you go ahead and celebrate,” Tino muttered. “I was counting on moving that stuff in one trip at a time to memorize the floor plan.”

  Channing chuckled wickedly as he led the way. “Too bad—you’re going to have to learn like the rest of us mortals and risk ending up in the laundry room when you were heading for the john.”

  Jacob chortled next to Tino. “That ever happen to you, Mr. uh… Channing Lowell?” He looked at Tino and mouthed, What do I call this guy? and Tino was actually reassured. How did two kids in cargo shorts and T-shirts level up to talking to someone like Channing in his linen “doing brunch” outfit?

  “Channing is fine,” said the man himself. He’d been leading them toward the back patio of the house, and he half turned in the doorway, grimacing. “It’s a pretentious enough name,” he apologized. “I mean, how do you shorten it? Chan? Ning? Chay? Nothing works. I’m jealous as hell of Sammy because…. Sammy. Not Samuel or Sampson or Samershall. When I was growing up I would have killed to be a Tino or a Jakey, right?”

  Tino and “Jakey” were both staring at him bemusedly, mouths open.

  “Uh, right,” Tino said, feeling stupid. “I… I mean, it’s a good name. You’ve sort of got no choice but to be, like, a captain of business with your name. Who runs numbers or washes windows with a name like Channing Lowell, right?”

  Channing laughed, those even white teeth glinting in his smile, and Tino had to swallow hard against the tightness in his throat.

  And would a Channing Lowell look twice at a Tino Robbins when he wasn’t just teasing? That was the question, right?

  Probably asked and answered.

  “You’re right,” Channing agreed, smiling. “Now come out and serve yourself some brunch and we can sit and talk about what your job is going to look like—I warn you, it’s not going to be easy.”

  Tino thought of his mom sitting down exhausted after a long day at the office. She’d only been able to do that recently, because five years earlier she would have been driving someone to soccer/dance/karate/theater/choir/GATE/chess club/whatever, and she and his dad would have met somewhere in the middle, high-fived and tag-teamed, and figured out who got takeout for dinner.

  “I’ve seen not-easy, sir,” he said soberly. “I’m not sure if I can handle it, but I don’t think it’s going to surprise me.”

  BRUNCH turned out to be poached salmon, fruit, frittata, and potatoes O’Brien. Simple on the one hand, but perfect and light (or heavy, if you were Jacob and apparently made of potatoes) on the other. By the time Tino finished his plate—and the cup of fresh-squeezed orange juice in front of him—he was feeling refreshed and, well, pampered.

  He wondered if Sammy ever just relaxed with half a peanut-butter-and-banana sandwich and a glass of milk.

  Oh—speaking of which….

  “Where is Sammy?” Tino asked, looking appreciatively around the patio. The fenced-in pool rippled down a set of steps in front of them, and a pool house and a small pavilion with lounge chairs and a table sat off on the far side of the pool. The entire area was surrounded with oak trees. The leaves were probably a pain to fish out of the water, but the entire area felt enclosed and shady. Tino wondered if Channing kept a pool boy or something to clean those up, and then mentally kicked himself. Of course there was a pool boy—he’d just had his underwear schlepped inside the house by the guys who’d installed the window treatment. Tino couldn’t imagine Mr. “Channing-not-Chay” Lowell mucking out his own pool.

  “Right now he’s staying at a friend’s house for a playdate,” Channing said, kicking back in his chair. “I keep expecting Cierra’s mom to call me up and tell me he’s being his awful I-hate-the-world self, but apparently he really likes Cierra, so with any luck he’ll have some fun and relax.”

  The unhappiness in Channing’s tone eliminated any of Tino’s pool envy, and he looked at his new boss sympathetically.

  “That’s not going away?”

  Channing looked across the pool and shrugged, hurt written into the line of his shoulders. “He’s glad you’re coming,” he said softly. “And… you know. I’ll take any suggestions to help him not be completely awful again.” The game smile he turned toward them tore Tino’s heart a little. “Me and Sammy used to have a good time together. I… I mean, I so miss my sister, but at first I was thinking that maybe….” He shrugged. “
We could comfort each other?”

  “Yeah,” Tino said, nodding. Next to him, Jacob was fiddling with his fork, looking decidedly uncomfortable. “What?” he asked irritably.

  “Maybe you should not worry so much about comforting him and worry about… you know, making sure he knows what to expect.”

  Tino blinked at his friend. “Like—”

  “Like structure. Like when we were in school, and we knew what to expect, and every time we broke a rule, we knew what to expect. Maybe if he’s being a little asshole, you should give him a consequence instead of… I don’t know… trying to comfort him.”

  He looked up and apparently realized that he was being studied with great seriousness, because he went back to playing his fork.

  “Huh,” Channing said, smiling slightly, “I think your friends say a great deal about you, Tino. I’m impressed.”

  Tino sighed and shoved the last bit of salmon and asparagus in his mouth, enjoying them both a little less than he had five minutes earlier. Great—how was he going to live up to Jacob and Arthur? He’d only been there twenty minutes and he felt like a failure! Then Jacob spoke up again.

  “Tino’s always been bound for bigger and better things than we were,” he said, nodding at Channing earnestly. “I mean, in high school, he was the guy who managed to fund the killer prom and make sure everyone got to go, even if they didn’t have a date. Our second year out of high school, he figured out Kegger Thursdays, so the people old enough to buy beer got to rotate to all the places who sold by the keg, and we’d all pitch in. I mean, he’s driven, yeah, but he’s always wanted to make sure everybody was waiting when he got there, you know?”

  Tino found himself blushing, wondering if instituting Kegger Thursdays was really such a notch on his résumé. “I’m no Nica,” he apologized. “You know, starting a business at fourteen and having college practically paid for before she starts.”

  Jacob grimaced. “Yeah, man, don’t compare yourself to Nica. Your sister’s a whole other league. But you know, don’t compare yourself to Nica, ’cause she’s totally different. She’s like light-years ahead of you ’cause you pull everyone else along. You’d totally be in the clear if you weren’t pulling our dead weight.”

  Tino suddenly wanted to cry. He’d thought he’d been the only one to realize that he and his friends were drifting apart, but apparently Jacob had seen it too.

  “Not dead weight if you’re a friend,” he said soberly, looking Jacob in the eye. “What’s the use of being way out in front if you’re all alone?”

  Jacob nodded and grinned, offering his fist for the bump. “Yeah, bro—’s why you and me, we’re gonna be doing Pizza Friday or Saturday Bowling or calling each other on the equinox or something for as long as we live.”

  Tino bumped his fist and they both flamed out, and he glanced up at Channing.

  Who winked kindly and rocked his world.

  By the time Tino pulled his stomach out of knots and got his head back into the conversation, Jacob was polishing off his plate and promising to come take shameless advantage of the pool as the summer progressed.

  “Dude!” he enthused, “you won’t be able to get rid of me. I mean, seriously—you’ll have to tell Tino to kick me out if I get obnoxious. I could totally use a place to cool off after work. I love the garage, man, but it gets, like, 120 in there somedays—leaves you feeling wrung the hell out, right?”

  Channing nodded. “I spent a summer helping a friend at his dad’s garage when I was in school. I totally remember the heat.”

  Tino looked at him sharply, thinking he was leaving something out of the story, and he realized Channing was avoiding his eyes.

  Jacob was the one who picked up on it. “Dude, did your friend have a hot sister or something? ’Cause that’s the only reason I would have just done the garage to ‘help a friend.’”

  Channing laughed. “Yes, in fact, he did. And I actually signed on to hit on my friend, but he wasn’t interested, so she hit on me, and that was good too.”

  Tino stared at him, mouth opening and closing, heart hammering like Thor banging through the iron gates of hell.

  Oh dear Lord, the man was a unicorn. A shameless, flagrantly bisexual unicorn.

  “You still talking to your friend?” Jacob asked, cackling.

  “Oh yeah—I’m godfather to his two children,” Channing confirmed.

  “What about his sister?” Tino asked, mouth dry.

  “We still see each other casually.” Channing regarded him with hooded eyes. “When we’re between relationships. It’s always good to have a plus one for the business invite, yes?”

  Okay. Tino nodded, still not able to swallow. Everything from “seeing casually” to “between relationships” felt unbearably suggestive, and Tino thought that just looking at the guy over the table suggested plenty of things already.

  “Way to go, dude!” Jacob approved. “Everyone needs a backup plan, am I right, Tino?”

  “Absolutely,” Tino rasped. “Backup plan. Very necessary.”

  “So what’s your backup plan?” Channing challenged him. He took a sip of his orange juice, but his eyes never moved from Tino’s heated face.

  “Tino’s backup plan?” Jacob chortled. “Oh, that’s easy—his backup plan is terminal virginity!”

  Channing spit out his orange juice on a smirk, and Tino did a slow pan to his ex–best friend’s face.

  “Jakey” looked sunnily back. “Bro, you totally know it’s true.”

  “When I’m rich,” Tino said with dignity, “I’m going to buy a horse just so I can pay you to pick horseshit up in my stables.”

  Jacob smiled and nodded. “Just make sure there’s hot chicks there in riding pants, dude, and I’ll pick up that shit for free.”

  Tino smacked his forehead with his palm and wished for a quick death. When none was forthcoming, he muddled through the rest of brunch on his own.

  JACOB eventually left, and Tino followed Channing up the stairs and down the hall to what would be his room for the next few months. His contract had stated that he’d be needed until at least September, but if he wanted to stay longer, that could be negotiated later.

  Tino squinted down the hallway and then looked back at Channing and shook his head. “You, uh, said you got lost going to the john?”

  “I did,” Channing said, that quiet smile that Tino was starting to recognize in his voice. It sounded personal, like it was just for Tino and nobody else. “But my sister bailed me out. She….” He stopped short, like he was tired of remembering someone who wasn’t there anymore. “Anyway, if you look down to the stairway, you can see that we’re all sort of arranged across the hall—each door has an adjoining bath. Sammy’s is the one right next to yours—it’s got the toy giraffe on the front.”

  Tino caught his eye and grinned. “What? No universal symbol for manny on the front of my door?”

  “If I was going to put anything on your door, it would be the universal symbol for stubborn,” Channing said, some exasperation creeping into his voice. “It took you long enough. But here.” He opened a door in the middle of the hallway and gestured Tino in front of him.

  Tino went. Channing’s smell was a little different than it had been a week ago—not sweaty and weary, more… perky and relaxed. But the bergamot and spice were still there, and they still did weird things to Tino’s stomach.

  Tino took two steps in and looked around, trying not to gawk.

  “Nice!” he said, whistling lowly. It was a guest bedroom—his suitcases and computer desk didn’t make it any more personal, and his tchotchkes and posters were still packed. But the paneling was light wood and the bed itself was queen-size—the place was big and comfortable and ready to be made someone’s own. The bed had already been sheeted, but Channing waved a hand at the lack of a comforter.

  “I was pretty sure you’d have your own—”

  “A quilt my mom made me when I was in high school,” Tino confirmed, wondering if he should be embarrassed
about this.

  Channing paused and smiled boyishly. “That’s nice—those are good things to have. But anyway, unpack, make yourself at home, and then come downstairs and see me when you’re done. I’ll be in the study. It’s sort of off the main dining room downstairs—you’ll find it.”

  “Yeah, sure. What’s on our agenda?” Because this sounded awfully businesslike for the care and maintenance of a small boy.

  Channing wrinkled his nose. “Sammy has a schedule that I can’t keep straight—it’s insane. And I think your friend was right about consequences—I can tell you what my sister did, and you need to tell me what you’re comfortable with, and then we can both do it, so he doesn’t—”

  “Get confused. Yeah. You’re good at this—you should be a parent!”

  Channing blushed. “I… well, always planned to someday, you know?”

  “Haven’t found the right girl?” Tino teased, and then wished he hadn’t because… bisexual unicorn man who smelled really good was in his bedroom. Awk. Ward.

  “Haven’t found the right anybody,” Channing corrected, and then his shy smile blossomed into that of the sexually confident man who so confounded Tino. “You’re dying to know, aren’t you?”

  “Know what?” Tino asked, looking at the new window treatment, which was a nice steady navy blue with off-white blinds. Phil and his friend did good work.

  “C’mon, Tino,” Channing teased. “I told the story about my friend’s sister and your eyes got as big as dinosaur eggs—I thought they were going to pop out and roll around the table.”

  Tino had to look at him—and laugh—because the conceit was both disgusting and hilarious. “They did not!”

  “They did too! Now come on—ask the question.”

  Tino rolled his eyes (and tried to make sure they were normally sized when he did so) and said, “So, uh… both teams?”