Outing [4]

Warning! mention of a character’s death. Make sure to keep tissues at your hand’s reach, just in case.

::OUTING::
Chapter 4
**Present Time**
Vin’s POV

Gabe is something else, I tell you. He bitches about me not being able to control my horny impulses but does nothing to help keep my libido at bay, if you know what I mean. Quite the opposite.

One minute he’s sort of fighting my advances, as always badly, next one his perfectly shaped butt is shamelessly rubbing against my cock. And what am I supposed to do? I’m not a teenager anymore, no matter that my cock doesn’t agree on that point, but I’m not made of steel either; there’s blood running through my veins, you know? And Gabe’s perfectly rounded globes are damn tempting. The Spirit may be willing but the flesh is weak, very very weak.

And that’s the thing with Gabe; he’s a walking-talking contradiction. His brain says one thing but, like my cock, his body doesn’t agree. And before we realize, we are both exhausted.

Pulling out of him with a sigh, I reach down, getting rid of the condom. That’s probably the only matter Gabe had shown to be inflexible on since we met and, unlike with most things, I know he would fight me, fervently, if I dared to suggest to have sex without barriers.

I understand his concern, I really do. I don’t like it though, but I respect it all the same. I guess that’s one of the essential parts of being satisfyingly involved in a mature relationship. You respect what your better half considers important, even when you don’t like it.

His concern however is not only real but touching. I know Gabe is not worried about me being unfaithful, passing on some infection to him, because I swear that’s not something I have in mind at all. I love my life with Gabe and then some. But he worries about himself infecting me, even though he goes through routine tests each six months, just to be on the safe side, and I do know for a fact that Gabe wouldn’t cheat on me, not ever. He’s clean, of course, but, the latent fear Gabe feels after what happened to Max would never leave him, not completely.

All in all, what touches me the most and leaves me without arguments to convince him is the fact that Gabe also thinks about Hania’s and Elan’s well being; keeps saying that he would kill himself if for whatever reason should I die because of him, leaving my two kids without their father. I guess that the fact that neither of us met our biological fathers, and in Gabe’s case, not even his mother, has to do a lot with that deep concern.

That however is most unlikely, since Gabe isn’t a porno actor anymore, stopped being one almost right after we started dating. The risk of infecting me with the HIV virus is almost non existent, not to say impossible, but Gabe doesn’t want to hear about that. So, like I said, I respect his decision to have safe sex, even if it’s just the two of us going at it.

It’s not that I’m not concerned about my own health or the future well being of my kids, don’t get me wrong. I’m a very responsible father, but I never considered Gabe a threat to me or to anyone I love, not even when I still was having sex with Sara, and even with Paloma, if from time to time.

Of course, Paloma shares his opinion and sometimes even his fears; then again she and Gabe are as thick as thieves. Some days I even feel jealous of that special connection they have. I’d rather let someone skin me alive than admitting that to anyone though. The same with the kids. Hania fell in love with Gabe two seconds after she saw him for the first time and Gabe was standing at my side when Elan was born and I cut his umbilical cord.

The memory makes me grin when I remember Gabe, pale and scared, and yet crying tears of pure joy. Gabe is as much a father to my kids as I am.

Shaking my head, I look at him as my hands sneak around his chest, pulling Gabe to me and squeezing him lightly. The feeling of his naked skin against me causes a shiver to run through my body. He murmurs something but I know he probably doesn’t even know what he said, so I’m not even going to bother to ask what that was.

“You okay?” I whisper into his ear and then gently bite down on his lobe.

I already know the answer to that question, in my heart I know it, but this is like my ‘are you happy?’ deal. I need him to tell me aloud because there was a time when Gabe was neither okay nor was he happy, and it concerns me that, for whatever reason, he feels the same way as he did back then, even if I’m not the source of his unhappiness.

“Getting there,” he moans, shuddering.

I can’t see his face because he’s looking down, but I know he’s smiling. I chuckle, wrapping my arms around him a bit more tightly and he purrs, pressing back his full frame to mine.

Gabe always needed some time to fully recover after one of our morning love-making sessions. They always seem more intense for some reason, at least to him. The transition from sleep to passion to daily life is difficult for Gabe. Although, I’m not sure why. Not that I’m complaining. Quite the opposite, it gives me the time to hold him longer before he starts bitching again about arriving late. Like the show will start without him, which reminds me of how tense Gabe has been for the last weeks.

Releasing him at last, long enough to move my hands up, I start massaging his shoulders, remembering that Gordon phoned last night. “‘Shorty’ invited us for dinner next weekend.”

“I’m such a lousy friend,” Gabe heaves a hard sigh, guilt and shame in his voice. “I’ve been so busy getting the exhibition ready that I almost forgot about him.”

“Gordon loves you, besides he knows how important tonight is for you.” I reassure him, moving my hands up, working the knots on his neck.

For some reason the tension never seems to leave Gabe either, no matter how relaxed he may look and the last thing he needs right now is to worry about that. Gabe’s already a nervous wreck even if he’s doing a good job pretending.

“Mmmmm…that feels nice…” he sighs contented. “You have great hands…”

I grin, sliding my hands down his back. “You like this, don’t you?” Teasingly, I trace his spine down with my fingers tips and he shivers uncontrollably.

“Hm-mm…I love it…”

“Good.”

“At this rate we won’t make it on time.” Gabe groans but I just realized that he spread his legs and leaned forward against the sink counter, shoving his ass further and further up in invitation.

“So what?” I shrug my shoulders. “The gallery won’t go anywhere. Come on, let’s shower together.”

“Vin,” he warns me but I just ignore him, turning him around so we are face to face and I can see that shit eating grin I know is spread on his lips. Gotcha! “You think I’m that naïve?” His fingers lazily play with my chest hair. I stopped shaving it years ago; right after Gabe told me that he likes it.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” I reply, pretending to be indignant. “Besides, we’ll save time that way,” I reason, nonchalant.

Gabe gives me a long, measuring look and, after a moment of hesitation, he steps within the shower stall. Our tiny, built-for-midgets shower stall, actually.

Some days I miss my old huge one; I could throw parties in there. No matter what Gabe says we’re getting rid of this one. We almost can’t fit in here, although it makes for some fun too.

“Hey!”

“What, I was reaching for the soap,” I grin, playing dumbass for all I’m worth.

“Yeah, sure you were.” Gabe eyes me suspiciously but there’s humor in his voice and his eyes are sparkling with a mischievous gleam.

———
**Past Time**

((Six years before))

Gabriel’s POV

I loved dancing, still do, but it was turning into a long ass night and I couldn’t wait to be done with my shift, but it wasn’t to be that way.

The nightclub was unusually packed for a Thursday night, surely because the management had the clever idea of making of that day of the week ‘women’s night’. All the LA female population was invited to have a cocktail on the house and to enjoy a male full-frontal strip-tease show. So, of course, there was no room for a fool.

Now let me tell you that the club wasn’t any shithole of a place with watered down drinks and filthy barmen, but quite an exclusive nightclub in which the upper class people that lived in the city rubbed shoulders with celebrities while partying.

I’m not gonna bore you to death listing the names of these aforesaid celebs, of course, suffice it to say that I’ve seen most of these women and men we all take such a pleasure in, enjoying their performances or whatever, having drinks, dancing and doing other things that I’d rather leave unsaid just in case you had a crush on any of them.

Anyway, I was doing fine, even though I knew that whatever shit Fred had been injecting me with for the last two days would eventually end up losing its magical effect. Spinning around and shaking my hips in the rhythm of the tiresome, blaring music, I kept attracting most patrons’ attention while waiting for Maximilian to do his show, right at midnight.

I swear I couldn’t wait for Max to perform, not because I was eager to see him naked; I lost count of how many times I’ve already seen him like the day he was born. Not to mention that the both of us had shot several movies together, but because it would be only then when my shift would be done, and I’d be able to go to my place to crash.

At last and after what felt like an eternity, the DJ finally changed the music, introducing Max.

Dressed like Richard Gere in ‘An Officer And A Gentleman’, he showed up on stage, wearing aviator style shades and a disarming smile. If there was still someone who wasn’t wet or hard, they sure as hell got horny at the mere sight of Max, seductively dancing in the rhythm of Joe Cocker’s ‘You can leave your hat on’, which by the way, was the only garment Max wouldn’t remove, along with his shades.

People went crazy and no wonder. Max had a body to die for and to say that he was well endowed would have been such an insult. He was the closest definition to perfection; the final evidence that God is either a woman or gay, because she/he was showing off while creating Max, I tell you.

People say only the good ones die young; I have to agree on that, at least regarding Max. That was certainly his case. Back then, no one suspected, not even him, but I guess that God thought better and decided to take back her/his beautiful creation.

It was an agonizingly painful ride and, along with Max, a part of us died too. Fred however was the one who suffered the most, and yet stuck at Max’s side until the end, watching how the sweet, funny boy who had been his best friend for years was being consumed at a slow, leisurely pace.

However, I never heard Max complaining, in fact he had such a wicked way of making fun of his situation. It made you laugh, even when your heart was breaking. The most amazing thing was that even though AIDS had reduced him to a skeleton and Karposi’s Sarcoma had left huge purple lesions on his chest and neck, Max still retained part of his beauty.

He died two years after that performance at the nightclub, two days before his twenty-seven birthday on a sunny day in June. The cause of his death was listed as pneumonia. He had come down with it the week before and we all watched him as he slowly lost his struggle to breathe. Still, Max was a fighter and finally, Fred, going into his big brother mode for the last time, told him it was time to let go.

As Vin, Sara, Valentino and I watched, Fred held Max’s hand and said it was all right to leave him; he’d miss him forever, but he’d be okay. I don’t know if Max heard him or not, but he seemed to relax after that and he quietly stopped breathing about 15 minutes later.

We said our final good-byes to Max on his birthday, 3rd June. The service was held in a little chapel on the outskirts of LA.

I remember that I sat there, holding hands with Vin and Paloma, hearing the priest performing the ceremony and I thought that nobody who had really known Max was there, aside from us. Not one single porno partner or a childhood friend, nor even one single member of his family had come to say their goodbyes.

I knew Fred had made some calls, but apparently the news had not instilled any need to attend in the people he’d told. I thought about all the people that Max had known, about all the ‘so called’ friends. Had he meant so little to them?

I knew that nothing could hurt Max anymore, but I felt a cold anger at the people who had used him and then had forgotten about him when he no longer could give them what they wanted.

The priest finished up with a prayer, then Vin, Val, Gordon, George, Fred and I picked up the coffin to take it out to the hearse. Max had wanted to be cremated, so there was no graveside ceremony. We shuffled awkwardly down the aisle and for the first time, I noticed a small, blond, delicate looking woman in the back pew.

She was blowing her nose as we passed, but she looked up and I saw the tears that were still streaming down her face. I recognized her from a photo Max had kept by his bed. It was Mona, his mother. I had been wrong, someone of his family had been there to mourn Max and the beautiful human being he had been.

As I saw the hearse going away down the street, I made a promise to myself. I would never have sex without taking precautions, ever, not even with Vin.

But, I’m anticipating events, so let’s go back to that Thursday night.

As soon as Max was done sensually removing his impeccable white military outfit, flashing the enthralled audience with his erect beautiful cock, he entered the dressing room where I was still changing into my clothes.

“I got us a job for tomorrow night,” Max threw the towel Fred had handed him as soon as he had left the stage and grabbed his jeans. “$3000. Fifty-fifty.”

I pulled up my jeans, clasping them and reached for my sleeveless shirt. “What kind of job, exactly?” I eyed him suspiciously.

If it was more hardcore porno, I was going to have to decline; I still wasn’t in shape to shoot anything.

“A hen party.” Max answered, handing me a visit card.

I took it, silently reading the name printed on it. Samantha Vincent. “Who is she?”

Max shrugged his shoulders. “Dunno. She approached me when I was leaving the stage. Said that her best friend was getting married in two weeks and that she was looking for a male stripper. A super hot stud—her words not mine.”

I chuckled at that and Max grinned.

“Anyway, she loved the show and wanted to hire me. I told her that would cost her $1500 and that you and I were a pack and she said ‘all the better’.”

“And why is that?”

“Apparently her friend kind of likes to watch two guys going at it. So I told her that that would cost her another $1500.”

I blinked at that. “Did she agree?”

I wasn’t that surprised; after all I knew Max could talk people into doing whatever. Fred used to say that Max would be able to sell lots on the moon if he was given the chance. I did believe it.

“Yep,” Max grinned mischievously, “in fact she looked thrilled.”

“Well, fuck me,” I whispered in disbelief.

“Tomorrow night, sweetheart,” Max joked, playfully slapping my butt and turned around, finishing dressing.

I frowned, looking down at the visit card. For some reason the name rang a bell, but for the life of me back then I couldn’t place why it sounded familiar.

“Max, I’m not sure if I’ll be in shape to do it.”

At the concern in my voice, Max smiled sweetly. “Don’t worry, we’re not gonna fuck. She said that just making out would be fine, something about the bride’s mother being there too. Anyway, just touching, kissing and if we see that they’re in the mood, we can perform a 69. What do you say?”

“I don’t know.” I hesitated, not sure why all of sudden I felt as though a dozen butterflies were wildly fluttering within my stomach. I had a weird feeling but couldn’t decide if it was a good feeling or a bad one.

Max turned fully, looking at me. “Gabriel, sweetheart, let’s think about it for a minute, shall we? One hour, two at the most, and you’ll have $1500 to put in your piggybank, tax-free and in cash.”

That convinced me. Not that I had a lot of thinking to do, anyway. I needed the money and besides, I had never been good at telling people ‘no’; it was only worse when the people asking for something were those I loved and cared for.

“Okay.” I sighed.

“Cool!” Max hugged me briefly and smiled. “Now get ready, she wanted to meet you and is waiting for us at the VIP’s.”

———-
**Past Time**

Vin’s POV

Do you believe in Fate? I gotta admit that I didn’t. The mere idea of some sort of supernatural force dictating my destiny sounded to me not only ridiculous but hilarious. Not to mention that the thought of not being able to be in control of every single event in my life made me feel uneasy. Nevertheless, just like with many other things, I realized how wrong I had been. Why do I say that? Because not even I would have been able to come up with a better plan to run into Gabe by sheer chance if I planned it in advance.

To begin with, I shouldn’t have been at that nightclub that Thursday night, mostly because my mere presence in a club that advertised a male full-frontal strip tease show would have aroused unwanted suspicions. People would likely wonder what the hell Vin Diesel was doing there and that night no less!

In second place, I hadn’t planned to go out at all, but somehow a couple of extraordinary circumstances made me chang my mind. Paloma and Hania were in town, and my PA was going to marry in two weeks.

Now, let me explain my relationship with the mother of my daughter before I continue. Paloma and I didn’t live together. Not because we didn’t love each other, but because that was what we had agreed after Hania was born. But let’s go back to the beginning.

Paloma and I had met three years before in Santo Domingo. I was invited to host a lingerie party and she was one of the models that worked for the firm. It was some sort of love at first sight, at least on my part.

Now, let me tell you that I had to work my ass off to get her in my bed. It hadn’t been the first time that a girl had been playing hard to get, but Paloma did it in such an intelligent way that she not only got me more interested in her but also managed to make of our seduction game a hell of a lot of fun. And by the time we had sex for the first time we were already pretty close friends, which made for a fantastic experience.

Anyway, I finally got what I wanted but don’t make me recall how much money I spent on flowers or how many romantic dinners we went through until she allowed me to hit second base. Then we started dating, kind of.

Paloma was fun, smart and beautiful, but what got me for real was how loyal and discreet she was as well. Not even one of her friends or acquaintance knew that she was dating Vin Diesel. Just her mother, who, by the way, I loved, still do, and it’s a mutual feeling I have to add.

Paloma was also pretty down to earth, centered and more mature than most girls her same age. And that was what made me think that maybe she would be the perfect woman to have my kids. But, at the same time, we both realized that, even though we loved each other, a lot, we weren’t in love with each other.

Most couple in our predicament would have said their good byes, but Paloma and I decided to stick together, making something unique of our friendship.

We started to have sex from time to time, but at the same time we were living our own lives. Then Paloma got pregnant. Something within me told me that I had been the one knocking her up, but we both waited until Hania was born to run a DNA test. Just to be 100% sure. It was only then when we announced to the world that we had become parents.

My fans went crazy; the media went crazy and I hated myself for making Paloma go through such public exposure. People said horrible things about her. You don’t even want to know how far they went in their speculations and conjectures. I was devastated.

I could understand that my fans wanted to be part of my life, and I was honored, I really was, but why did people have to be so damn mean? Was it such a terrible thing? I mean, I wanted to have kids and Paloma was the perfect girl, so what the fuck did anyone care how we had become parents, exactly? It’s my fucking private life, for fuck’s sake!

Anyway, Paloma, being the discreet girl she is, kept her mouth shut and I weathered the storm the best I could until people moved on, leaving us the fuck alone.

We decided to share Hania’s custody and I made sure that both, my daughter and her mother had every single one of their needs covered and then some. We also agreed that Paloma move to my house in Santo Domingo, where she has been living since then, so none of them were at the media’s reach. I wanted for both of them to be able to enjoy some sort of ‘normal’ life, out of the spotlight, which would have been impossible if they lived with me in LA. I also promised Paloma that she and Hania would come always first no matter what, and I also gave the mother of my daughter my word that no other woman would stay in my life for more than one night.

Our agreement worked for both of us fine and we didn’t care what people had to say about that matter. I loved Paloma, she loved me and we both loved our daughter. To hell with the rest of the world if people found it hard to cope with our happiness; we honestly didn’t give a fuck.

I spent almost all my free time with both of them, constantly flying to Santo Domingo, so that way Hania didn’t notice that I wasn’t around her 24/7. But then again what father is around his kids 24/7 these days? To my daughter, daddy was working and came home almost all weekends to play with her. In fact, I had to say that one of the reasons why I had accepted to play ‘Dominic Toretto’ once more had been because more than half the shooting took place in Santo Domingo. I had really loved to go back home after a long ass day of shooting just to find Paloma and Hania waiting for me.

As the time went by, my relationship with Paloma grew only stronger, but because of my constant trips to Santo Domingo I once more came in touch with Karim, and that was how the boy had landed in my life for the second time. The first time had been three years before, right until the second I saw Paloma for the first time. What can I say? I’m bisexual, remember?

Paloma didn’t like Karim. It figures, but she never made the boy aware of that fact, mostly because I had made a point of never placing Karim’s needs ahead of Hania’s or even hers, ever. And because Paloma is a real lady; she would never make someone feel uncomfortable around her.

Anyway, let’s go back to the reason why my daughter and her mother were visiting me in LA.

Because our relationship worked damn fine, Paloma and I decided to have a second kid. But this time I wanted to be involved much more than I did with Hania, being at Paloma’s side at every step. So we both decided that each routine exam would be run at the Cedars in LA. And that was the reason why Paloma was in town; she had reached the end of her second trimester of pregnancy and had an appointment with her gyno.

Needless to say that both Hania and her mother were staying with me, in my house, which of course did upset Karim. But he damn well knew that my door was open and he could leave at any time. Of course I already knew that he wouldn’t do that, so he put up with the fact that for as long as Paloma and Hania were around, he would be pushed to the end of the line, so to speak.

So far, these were extraordinary circumstances, but that wasn’t all. Cynthia, my PA, was getting married, and so my sister, Samantha, or Sammy, that’s what we call her, was visiting me as well to help Cynthia with the preparations for her wedding.

So, let’s recap, shall we? My daughter, her mother and my sister were all staying with me. Now, don’t get me wrong. I did love it, but from one day to the next there were three women inside my house. Three no less! And that wasn’t all. One was on her period, one was suffering hormonal changes and one was running all over, touching everything at her little hand’s reach. Like I said, do not get me wrong, but even though I was in heaven they were driving me nuts.

Early that morning, I had taken Paloma to the Cedars and her last blood test said that her blood-sugar level was a bit off-balance. That really upset her. The gyno told her that everything was okay, that she didn’t have to worry because a lot of pregnant women experienced it during pregnancy, but she was concerned about Elan’s health. So to keep her from dwelling on the matter, obsessing unnecessarily, I decided to take her out to have dinner at a Mexican restaurant I knew she loved, and Sammy suggested that after dinner, they could enjoy a ‘girls only’ night out’.

I thought it would be a great idea, but Paloma insisted I joined them. I was going to say ‘thanks, but no’, and then Paloma gave me the look. You know which one I’m talking about? The look women give to us when they want something and you know that, no matter what, you’re gonna end up giving it because doing any other thing would not only be a lost battle, but would get you in deep shit? That one. And I before I realized, there I was, at the nightclub where Gabe danced six nights a week, on a ‘women’s night’ and knowing that there would be a male full-frontal strip tease show at midnight. If that wasn’t Fate messing around, I sure as hell didn’t know what would be.

Of course, back then I didn’t know that Gabe worked there, and aside from that, I had been convincing myself that getting the hots for a guy I didn’t know shit about would only bring me trouble. So, going against Sara’s advice, I had stopped nudging Gordon so he gave me some clue about Gabe’s whereabouts.

At the time I thought I was doing the right thing not only for the sake of my career but also for the sake of my kids’ future. If the media along with my fans had gone crazy because of my relationship with Paloma, imagine how they would react if I left the safety of my ‘closet’ to share with the world that I was bisexual.

So to avoid unwanted comments and gossip, Valentino and I entered the adjoined lounge within the nightclub, using the separate entrance to have access, and stayed there while Paloma, Sammy and my bodyguards entered the nightclub. I made sure that the people that were at the lounge that night saw me and I left a huge tip for the staff, so they remembered me and the fact that while Max was doing his show I had been with Valentino, chatting and drinking and listening to soft jazz music. In fact, I even asked the manager to come tell me when the performance was over, so I could join Paloma and Sammy at the VIP’s.

It sounds stupid and even ridiculous, I know, but I’d rather have people thinking that I was open-minded enough to not care that the mother of my daughter and my sister enjoyed a male full-frontal strip tease than having them assuming shit about me.

Yeah, I know what you all may be thinking; I was acting like a coward, or worse, a hypocrite, but what other thing could I do? I didn’t have a deathwish regarding my career, which by the way wasn’t going through its best.

Anyway, as soon as Max was done with his show, the manager, following my early instructions, came to tell us and we joined the girls at the VIP’s. It was then, when Sammy told me that she had hired Max and another go-go dancer.

“You did what?” I blinked incredulously. Not that the news came as such a surprise, after all Sammy is as much an open-minded person as I am, but for some reason I felt unease all of a sudden.

“I hired two male strippers for Cynthia’s hen party and that’s not all, they are gay.” Sammy grinned mischievously. “Cynthia will have a blast.” She waggled her eyebrows.

“Give me five, sister.” Paloma clasped her hand with Sammy and they both grinned like fools. “Cynthia will love it. Two guys going at it is way hot.” The mother of my daughter added, making me knit a brow at her comment.

“Who are you and what did you do to sweet, innocent Paloma, girl?” I eyed Paloma through narrowed eyes but I was grinning too.

“She met Vin Diesel and he corrupted her,” she smirked, kissing my lips softly and I had to laugh at that.

She had a point there though, at the end when I met her Paloma had only had one boyfriend, so even though she wasn’t a virgin, exactly, she wasn’t that experienced either.

“I invited them to have a drink with us. Is that okay with you?” Sammy looked at me and I nodded.

“Yeah, why not?”

“Cool,” she smiled and then looked past me, over my shoulder. “Oh, there they are.”

I turned around and went stock still, staring at the object of my secret desire. Gabe. It was only when Val, discreetly, elbowed me that I realized that I had been staring at him, open mouthed and paralyzed for God knows how long.

“Breathe, bro, or I’ll have to call 911,” Val teased into my ear and I realized that, indeed, I had been holding my breath because my lungs felt as though they were on fire. Good thing that only Val seemed to notice, aside from Gabe, that was.

“Ha-ha, very funny, Morales.”

“I’ll be here the whole week,” he joked and sipped from his beer. “Make sure to leave a juicy tip for the waitress.” Val added, lightly tapping my shoulder and I had to grin. That little teasing had helped me to relax, if a little bit.

“Hi, I’m Max and this super hot stud here is Gabriel.”

I guessed that such an odd introduction was part of some private joke between Max and Sammy because they shared a knowing look and then she reached out to shake hands, first with Max and then with Gabe, who all of a sudden looked like quite nervous.

“Nice to meet you, Gabriel, I’m Samantha, but call me Sammy.”

“Nice to meet you too, Sammy.” Gabe blurted out, eyeing me out of the corner of his eye.

I dared to say that he looked about to faint. Then again, I guess I wasn’t doing much better, judging by the funny looks Val kept giving me.

Introductions made, Sammy, Max and Gabe sat together, ordering a round of drinks and Paloma moved to my side. “You okay?”

Was I okay? I wasn’t sure how I felt, exactly, and it concerned me to a great extent. I had always been quite self-confident with both men and women but then and there I felt as though I was a teenager on his prom night. It was such a disconcerting feeling.

“Vin, are you okay, honey?” Paloma cupped my face, concerned, pulling me out of my thoughts and I nodded, smiling.

“Yeah, baby.” I took her hand, kissing it, doing my best to sound cool, but it was hard to pretend. Paloma had always been pretty good at reading me, so her next words just confirmed it.

“He’s such a hottie, isn’t he?” She smiled knowingly, her eyes darting to Gabe.

I chuckled, glancing at Gabe and found him looking at me. There was something odd in his gaze though. He looked tired and I even dared to guess, a bit upset. I didn’t need anyone telling me, I just knew, and it was then when I realized how easy it was for me to read Gabe’s feelings. However, what got me was that, above all, Gabe looked unhappy, which immediately made me feel like shit. Was I the source of his unhappiness?

I thought that I was being just a conceited, egocentric asshole. I mean why would I be the source of Gabe’s unhappiness after all? We hadn’t crossed one word, yet anyway. In fact, I hadn’t even said ‘hi’ to him.

Then it struck me. I hadn’t said ‘hi’ to him. Actually, I had moved aside, unknowingly increasing the physical distance between us, as though I was some homophobic asshole that couldn’t stand the mere presence of homosexuals around me. I wasn’t that way, of course, but I was acting in such a reprehensible way all the same.

I looked around and realized that aside from Val and my bodyguards, the rest of the people that filled the VIP’s were girls.

Some of them were spoiled brats whose daddies’ money and surnames allowed them to stay in the VIP’s. But there were also what I called ‘padding’; chicks that had been hired by the management of the club to stand there, as part of the background; like a piece of furniture or an ornament. All of them dressed like sluts, wearing tight outfits that left little or nothing to the imagination.

I cursed myself inwardly and, letting out a heavy sigh, I returned my attention to Gabe only to find that his seat was empty. He was gone. I remember that back then I thought what a priceless chance I had lost to talk with Gabe, to get to know him.

I hadn’t been able to get Gabe out of my head since the minute I saw him for the first time, and now there I was, staring at his empty seat, wondering if I’d ever seen him again and wanting to kick myself for being such an asshole.