My Best Friend's Boyfriend Read online

  MY BEST FRIEND’S BOYFRIEND

  G.A. HAUSER

  MY BEST FRIEND’S BOYFRIEND

  Copyright © The G.A. Hauser Collection LLC, 2011

  Cover design by Mickey Stanton

  Edited by Stacey Rhodes

  Special Thanks to Pete DeVries

  ISBN Trade paperback: 978-1461-0201-7-2

  The G.A. Hauser Collection LLC

  This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  WARNING

  This book contains material that maybe offensive to some: graphic language, homosexual relations, adult situations. Please store your books carefully where they cannot be accessed by underage readers.

  First The G.A. Hauser Collection LLC publication:

  May 2011

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  Chapter 1

  “Trina Yamagachi, you’re a serial engager.” Gavin Mecklenburg tucked the phone between his shoulder and ear as he poured coffee into a thermos in the kitchen of his two bedroom condo on Phinney Ridge.

  “That is so mean, Gavie.”

  “How many men have you been engaged to?” He capped the thermos and put it next to his insulated lunch box. “I’ve counted four.”

  “I thought I wanted to marry them at the time.”

  “You lead them on and dump them before the date is set. You can’t fool me.” Gavin checked his watch and began shutting off lights before he left for work.

  “You have it easy. Women have so much to think about when they get married.”

  Gavin stopped what he was doing and blinked. “Did you just say I have it easy?”

  “Yes. Gay men never have to make a commitment.”

  “And I can’t believe after knowing me for four years you’re telling me being a gay man is easier than being a straight woman and that we can’t make commitments.”

  “Agh! Is it really seven-fifteen?”

  “Yes. Can we resume this discussion later? Over a drink?”

  Gavin stepped into his beige work boots at the door.

  “I’ll let you know. I met a new guy and I may go out with him.”

  “Another new guy?” Gavin blew out a breath and snatched his keys from the hook over the kitchen counter. “I can’t remember the last man I dated.”

  “He’s a real sweetie. I’ll fill you in on it later if he doesn’t call. But he will. I think he’s hot for me.”

  “Uh huh. And it’s easier for me or you? Forget it, Trina…you’re a man magnet. Call me later and let me know what you’re up to.”

  “Okay, Gavie. Be careful at work. I worry about you.”

  “You sound like your mom.” Gavin laughed and stood by the door, ready to leave.

  “My mom loves you!”

  “I love her too. Catch ya later.”

  “Kiss-kiss!”

  Gavin hung up, stuffed the phone into his shirt pocket and grabbed his lunch and thermos off the counter. He locked the door to his condo, which was on the first floor of a three-story complex. The light airy units were located across the street from the Woodland Park Zoo and at night with the windows open, he could hear the howler monkeys bellowing.

  He pushed back the heavy steel door to the parking garage and used his key to unlock his classic, silver Mazda RX7. Once he’d placed his lunch and thermos on the passenger’s floor mat, he started the car, lowering the loud music he had listened to last night on the way home.

  It was Friday but he was on call all weekend. Luckily the spring and summer months created a lull in the emergency call outs, but one never knew in Seattle. Weather was always newsworthy.

  As he waited for the iron security gate to roll back, he wondered who Trina had bagged this time. She was a gorgeous twenty-eight year old Japanese American. The woman had men clamoring after her on a regular basis.

  Her suitors were usually stunning, well-off, intelligent men. At times Gavin envied her assertiveness. She knew how to flirt. Sometimes while they were out together, she’d eye a potential mate, usually luring them in even though it would appear to an outsider that he and Trina were on a date.

  He drove out of the lot, using his windshield wipers as the spray of drizzle coated his car. Yes, it was summer in Rain City, but that didn’t mean it would be warm and sunny. On the contrary.

  Living on Phinney Ridge had its benefits. He didn’t need to use Interstate 5 to commute. In rush hour, especially Friday traffic, that meant a lot of time saved.

  Fifteen minutes later, Gavin parked his car in the secure employee lot of Seattle Power Source. He took his thermos and lunch bag with him, using a key pad code to enter the building. Still battling his way through a three-year apprenticeship program, Gavin knew each day on the job demanded him to be focused and sharp. Working on high voltage power-lines was not easy. It had taken a long time to be allowed to work as a ‘hot’, fifth period apprentice. Looking back he recalled the hours of classroom training, followed by practical hands-on, including eight climbing pole tests. It was the moment that separated the men from the boys, or in his profession’s case, the ones without a fear of heights.

  Climbing a thirty foot pole without safety equipment during a test was not for the faint of heart.

  Luckily he got along well with most of his journeymen mentors. Every two months Gavin had to rotate to a new crew, and a n
ew style of work. He didn’t mind. He enjoyed meeting everyone and learning each different method of the job. No, he didn’t tell any of the men he worked with he was gay. There was no reason to. The four or five-man crews consisting of a crew chief, two journeymen, and sometimes a materials supervisor, and him, the trainee. This was no place to reveal secrets about sexuality.

  Being a trainee for three years, doing the work the journeymen didn’t do, like cleaning the toilets on the bucket trucks, Gavin had learned to be humble on the job. One day he would be the master and have a trainee under him. Soon. Just not yet.

  But now he was working ‘hot’ high voltage circuits, and was well on his way to completing the training program. He stopped at his locker to exchange his t-shirt for his work shirt. Each article of clothing appeared normal, but were class 2 fireretardant. The last thing he needed was to burst into flames like a Hollywood stuntman. He tucked in the shirt into his jeans, which were also treated, grabbed his raingear, and popped his yellow hard hat onto his head.

  This month he was assigned to a crew with crew chief, Fred Maxwell, and journeymen Harvey Dyer and Hank Smith. The men were mostly in their late forties and fifties, married with children. All the men were experts in their field. Gavin was a quick learner and enthusiastic about the work. That was all he needed to get along well with all the men he had met so far. He spotted Harvey wearing his shirt with the company logo and baggie khaki pants, standing near their ‘jeep’, which was a flatbed truck which carried all their supplies. Gavin tossed his thermos and lunch into the cab. “Mornin’ Harvey.”

  “Good morning, Gav. You catch the Mariners last night?”

  “I did.” Gavin did a check of the equipment as well as the nuts, bolts, wire, connectors, and tools to make sure they were fully stocked with the everyday parts they would need. When he was through he sat in the passenger’s seat next to Harvey who was behind the wheel.

  “Fucking bullpen.” Harvey shook his head and stuck the key in the ignition. “Been having the same problem since the eighties.”

  “Some things never change.” Gavin smiled.

  “Right. Ready to go climb power poles in the rain?”

  “I like sixty degrees and rain better than thirty degrees and sleet.”

  Harvey laughed as he backed the truck out of the spot. “I hear ya. I just hope we eventually complain about how hot it is.”

  “Sure, Harv…keep dreaming.”

  They smiled at each other and then Gavin daydreamed about finishing his training as they drove to their first job.

  ~

  Eight hours later, driving his own car, the radio blasting metallic rock, Gavin pulled into the lot under the condo building. He rolled into his numbered spot next to a concrete pillar and shut off the engine. Still humming the song that had been playing, he grabbed his empty lunch box and thermos and climbed out of the car. At the far end of the parking area, which was mostly outdoor covered parking spots, a garage opened. The condos had a limited number of garages, mostly reserved for the third floor ‘luxury’ units. He didn’t know very many of his neighbors, though he had been living in the condo for three years. Ever since he had gotten the apprentice job and an increase in wages.

  Tucking his thermos under his arm as he searched for the security key to the lobby’s back door on his key ring, he heard a car motor and spotted a white 1962 split-window Stingray Corvette. Classic cars always got his attention. He didn’t recall seeing it before and watched it waiting for the opposite gate to open until it left the lot.

  Gavin opened the lobby door, walking down the hall to his unit. He heard a small yapping dog in a condo down the hall, and pushed his key into his own lock.

  Once inside, he dumped his lunch box and thermos on the counter top and headed to his bedroom to strip for a shower. As he stood over his bed, emptying his pockets, he tapped the button on his answering machine and looked at his mobile phone for missed messages at the same time. Trina had left one on each. He stayed put, hearing her voice on the message machine.

  “Hi, Gavie…looks like it’s you and me for drinks. How about we meet over at Anthony’s in Shilshol? Happy hour ‘til six. Call me.”

  He noticed a couple text messages she’d sent on his phone. He didn’t keep it on during work for safety reasons. The last thing he needed was for his attention to waver while sitting in a bucket truck fixing power lines.

  He read the same message on both. ‘ u there?’ Picking up his home phone, he called Trina, unbuttoning his shirt as he did. As it rang he sniffed under his pit and made a face at how much he stunk.

  “Hello, Gavieee.”

  “Hello, Treniee…” He laughed. “Are you already drunk?”

  “No. Just had one glass of wine when I got home from work. I’m bored. I can’t drink too much. I have to drive to Shilshol…unless you’re picking me up.”

  He sank down to sit on the bed, rubbing his face. “I’m beat. I was climbing poles and stripping all day.”

  “Are you a dancer?” Trina laughed loudly.

  Gavin smiled. “Sounds like it, doesn’t it. Stripping wire. Not clothing.” He fell back onto the bed with a bounce.

  “It’s Friday night. Come out with me. I don’t want to stay home.”

  “What happened to your new beau?”

  “He didn’t call. The jerk.”

  Gavin tried to feel motivated. “Let me shower. I stink.”

  “Okay…I’ll go grab us a table in the bar. How long will it take you to get ready?”

  “Less than an hour.”

  “See you then!”

  “Bye, Trina.”

  Gavin put his phone on the nightstand and stood with effort. He removed his clothing and looked at himself in the mirror on the dresser. Thirty-five? Where did ten years go?

  He ran his hand through his brown hair, which had been sweaty under his hard hat, and stared into his blue eyes. I’m not ugly. Am I? No.

  He flexed his biceps and tightened the muscles on his abs, striking a pose. Maybe he wasn’t going to the gym as often as he liked, but the work was very physical.

  “I need a life.” He scuffed his heels on the way to the bathroom, starting the water in the shower. In the mirror over the sink he touched his jaw, feeling stubble. He took his razor into the shower with him and wet down, shaving by touch. Thinking about Trina, seeing her cruise a room and single out a ‘victim’, Gavin wondered if perhaps he should take some pointers from her. She was the consummate predator. Four men had asked her to marry them. Four!

  After he washed up, he rinsed his face under the hot spray and shut the water. He checked his heavy, waterproof stainless steel watch for the time. That’s how he and Trina had met. He’d stopped at the jewelry store in downtown Seattle just to browse. Trina, who worked there, ended up selling him a stainless steel Rolex. They’d been friends ever since.

  He sped up his motions, not wanting Trina to wait alone in a bar. She’d be surrounded by men the minute she got there and he’d end up drinking and eating alone.

  Chapter 2

  Gavin didn’t see Trina’s Camry in the lot. He checked his phone for a text from her and sent one as he stood outside the restaurant. ‘ Im here.’

  A second later he heard a beep of a car horn. She waved as she drove around looking for a spot.

  He put his phone into his pocket and waited. There she was, in her high-heeled, open-toe red pumps, matching purse with gold accents, Capri slacks, silk top, and bright red lipstick. Her jewelry matched her taste—expensive. Though she was petite, merely five foot three and slender, something gave the illusion of grandness and power. Perhaps it was Trina’s confidence. She oozed it.

  “Hello, Gavieee!” she sang, throwing open her arms for a hug.

  He gave her a warm embrace, inhaling her delicate perfume and feeling her jet black hair brush his cheek. “Hello, my lovely lady.”

  She kissed his cheek and giggled, wiping the smudge of lipstick with a finger she wet in her mouth. “I always smear on you.”
>
  “Oh, that sounds sexy.” He held her hand and escorted her into the lobby.

  Acting like she was easily offended, she gave him a playful whack on the arm. “Why do you have to be gay?”

  Before Gavin answered, he was addressed by the hostess.

  “Table for two?” she asked.

  Trina said, “No, honey, we want the happy hour at the bar.”

  Gavin laughed softly. Thankfully he wasn’t emasculated by powerful women. “Guess we know the way,” he said, pointing to the direction of the bar.

  “Enjoy your evening,” the hostess said.

  “Thanks.” Gavin was led by Trina to a dimly lit room overlooking the Puget Sound. She steered them away from the bar stools to the tables by the window.

  Since it was early, they had their choice of seats. Trina evidently knew where she wanted to sit; in a cozy corner by a large glass pane, and a view of the ferry boats coming and going.

  Once they had settled into the chairs, facing each other, Gavin with his back to the window, Trina with the fabulous view, the waitress approached.

  “Can I get you something to drink?”

  Trina tugged out the tiny plastic menu from the condiment holder, and read it quickly. “We’re here for happy hour.”

  Gavin opened his mouth to request a beer, but Trina interrupted him. “I want a cocktail. Are you getting a cocktail, Gavie? Or just beer?” Aside she said to the waitress, “He always gets beer. Me? I like to experiment.”

  Waiting for a gap in the slightly chastising comment, Gavin told the waitress, “Honey wheat beer, please,” giving Trina a sideways glance as she laughed at him.

  “I don’t know what to get…either the martini or a vodka cranberry. Gavie, what would you get?”

  “Beer.”

  She flapped the menu at him making him retreat. “I can’t decide.”

  “Ask her.” Gavin pointed to the waitress.

  Trina looked skeptically at the woman. Gavin knew she was not a big fan of pretty blondes. “I’ll take the martini,” Trina said. Gavin noticed Trina’s nail polish and lipstick matched her purse and shoes. The woman was chic in an LA way, out of place among the Birkenstocks and socks crowd of Seattle.