Better than Sex (San Francisco Sex Gods #1)

Chapter 24

TWENTY-FOUR

Spencer

The Obsidian was everything Spencer expected in an overhyped, pretentious restaurant. It was the type of setting his father always selected for their awkward birthday dinners – an insufferably modern hellscape of dark polished wood and sterile black upholstery. The insipid white walls were hung with ostentatious art – paintings with abstract splotches and streaks of black which hinted at meaning they didn’t possess.

Spencer steeled himself, throwing his shoulders back and his chin up in mockery of the haughty assholes that were lingering at the bar to his left. He approached the maitre d’, who looked down his nose at Spencer with a disdainful sniff. Apparently his linen shirt and tan corduroy blazer weren’t elevated enough for a dining experience of this caliber.

“Yes?” The man let out a bored sigh and smoothed the lapels on his sharply tailored charcoal suit.

“I’m meeting Preston Ewing for dinner.”

The man’s demeanor transformed before Spencer’s eyes. His back straightened, his expression warmed, and his smile became unctuous. “Yes, sir, of course. You’re Mr. Ewing’s son. He’s been expecting you. Please, follow me.”

The maitre d’ led Spencer through the maze of tables to the back of the restaurant while he babbled in an obvious attempt to make up for his frosty greeting. “It’s a pleasure having you dine with us tonight, Mr. Ewing. My name is Anton. If there is anything I can do to make your experience more memorable, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

When they arrived at the table, Spencer’s father was focused on his phone. Without looking away from his screen, he said, “Have a seat.”

Anton excused himself, muttering a quiet, “Enjoy your meal,” before returning to his post.

Spencer draped his jacket over the back of his chair. His father was a piece of work. Although he was pushing fifty-five, he used his considerable wealth to craft a convincing illusion that he was a fresh-faced thirty-year-old. Green-tinted aviator sunglasses nestled in a swoop of hair dyed a stylish dark blond. His slim-fitting ink blue suit hugged his lean body, and the cropped hem of his trousers revealed tanned ankles and Gucci horsebit loafers. Being mistaken for Spencer’s brother was always the high point of his evening.

Spencer slipped into his seat. He snapped his napkin open and placed it in his lap.

Preston harrumphed and set his phone near his plate. “There’s no need for theatrics.”

“Hello to you too, Dad.” Spencer reached for the glass of liquor in front of him, eager for the escape of a good buzz.

“Ah, that’s Ardbeg, single malt…”

Spencer kicked back the scotch in a single swallow. His face contorted into a moue of disgust. “Jesus, that tastes like an ashtray.”

“It’s more of a sipping scotch, son. Anyway, happy birthday. Did you do anything to celebrate?”

“Yes. I had a party. On Saturday. My actual birthday.”

Preston narrowed his eyes but ignored Spencer’s dig. “I’ve asked someone to join us tonight. A rising star in the firm. He was recently promoted to vice president of communications.”

“Good for him. Why exactly is he coming to my birthday dinner?”

“Well, he’s gay…”

“Oh my god. You’re trying to set me up.”

“I think the two of you would be compatible.” Preston clucked his tongue. “It’s time for you to think about settling down. To do something with your life. You can’t spend the rest of your life always on the prowl for your next sexual conquest.”

“Why not,” Spencer sneered. “It works for you.”

“That’s enough,” Preston gritted out through clenched teeth. “One meal a year. That’s all I ask of you. Behave yourself and stop acting like a spoiled five-year-old.”

A man’s voice interrupted their verbal sparring. One that sent chills tingling down Spencer’s spine. “Preston, I’m sorry I’m late. I couldn’t find a place to park.”

Spencer’s head swam. His ex was standing less than five feet away with an apologetic smile on his face. Damn. He looked amazing. Lazy jet-black curls tumbled onto his forehead, which was tanned to perfection. He was more muscular than he’d been as a teenager, with solidly cut pecs and biceps that filled out his tight lavender dress shirt.

“Garrett?”

“You know each other?” Preston asked.

Spencer’s mouth fell open in shock. “Are you kidding me?” He scoffed when Garrett took his seat at the table. “Yes, Dad. I know Garrett Keyes. We dated when I was in college.”

“You never brought him home to meet your mother and me.” Preston had the audacity to sound hurt.

“I did, actually. He stayed in our house over Memorial Day weekend. 2012. Remember?”

“I looked different then,” Garrett explained. “I used to cut my hair short to hide my curls. And you were busy most of the weekend, Preston.”

A young woman dressed in a sleek black outfit stepped up to the table. Without even giving her a moment to introduce herself, Preston waved her away. “We’ll need a minute.”

Spencer held up a finger. “Actually, I’d like a double Maker’s, neat. Thank you.” Their server smiled and nodded once before stepping away. He spun to face Garrett. “Dad gave you my number?”

“Yeah. He—”

“And that’s why you called me? To tell me you’d be here tonight?”

“Didn’t you listen to the message?”

“No!” Spencer barked. People at nearby tables averted their eyes and whispered among themselves. He lowered his voice. “No, I didn’t fucking listen to it.”

“Watch your language,” Preston muttered under his breath.

“Fuck off, Dad. I’m thirty. I’ll say whatever the hell I want.”

Garrett held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Spence. C’mon. I’m sorry you didn’t know I was coming. But we’re here now. Can’t we be civil? Share a meal and catch up?”

The server arrived with Spencer’s whiskey. He took the glass from her and downed it, slamming the glass on the table as he sprang to his feet. His napkin slipped off his lap and fell to the floor. “Excuse me. I have to go to the bathroom and scream into a roll of paper towels.”

He stormed off toward the dimly lit hallway leading to the bathrooms. Garrett was a few steps behind him, stage whispering his name and begging him to stop. When Spencer was far enough into the hallway to be out of his father’s eyeline, he rounded on Garrett and poked his finger into his chest.

“When did you start working for my father?”

Garrett batted his hand away. “What?”

“When did you start working for Preston Ewing?”

“When I graduated from college.” Garrett snorted. “What does it matter?”

“ What does it matter? You’ve been working with my father all this time and I’m just now hearing about it?”

Anger flashed in Garrett’s eyes. “It’s not my fault you never talk to your father about his business.”

“You could have told me.”

“I tried, Spence. I fucking tried. But you never took my calls. You blocked me on social media.”

Spencer slumped against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “I was hurt.”

“We were together less than seven months. And long distance at that. I didn’t expect you to go scorched earth when we broke up.”

“It’s because I loved you, you ass.”

“Look, I really liked you too, but I panicked. How could I have known you’d want to marry the first guy you slept with?”

“Go fuck yourself.” Spencer pushed off the wall and turned toward the men’s room door.

Garrett grabbed his bicep to stop him. “Wait. We got off on the wrong foot tonight. Let’s get through this dinner. Maybe then we can go out for drinks, and…” His eyes raked over Spencer’s body, hovering on his ass. “Catch up.”

Spencer wrestled his arm free. “Are you out of your mind? I’m not hooking up with you. And I’m not having dinner with you and my dad to celebrate your damn promotion. Congrats, though, for fulfilling what I’m sure was a meticulously crafted five-year plan.”

“Ten-year plan, actually,” Garrett mumbled in an offhanded manner.

“What are you saying?” Spencer studied his ex’s eyes, and although they sparkled like a clear, blue tropical ocean, there was a secret lurking in their depths. As he counted back ten years in his head, the fuzzy details of their relationship resolved into crystal clear focus, revealing an uncomfortable possibility. “Wait a minute…” No. Not even Garrett would stoop that low. Would he? “Did you…did you date me to get closer to my father?”

Garrett dropped his gaze and scratched his cheek.

Stunned, Spencer let out a humorless chuckle.

Garrett groaned. “Whatever. Fine, yes. I thought if I was dating you, I’d have a better chance of getting a job at your father’s company. But my plan backfired, okay? Because once we’d broken up, there was no way in hell I was going to tell your father we’d dated. Who knows what you would’ve said about me? It could have ruined everything, but luckily he didn’t remember me. So you’ll be happy to know I got the job on my own merits.”

With a mocking smile, Spencer placed a hand over his heart. “Oh, so happy. Truly, Garrett, I’m thrilled beyond words.”

Garrett closed his eyes and drew in a deep inhale through his nose. “Spence, I had nothing growing up. I idolized your father. He’d made it. I wanted everything he had. I can’t believe you didn’t.” When he opened his eyes, his gaze was sharp, cutting into Spencer with its razor edge. “It was all yours for the taking, but instead you squatted in one of his old apartments and whored yourself out to breeders. I looked you up before I called. I saw your boudoir photos.” Garrett used air quotes around the word boudoir.

“How dare you judge me. I’m a working photographer.”

“But you’re better than that. Imagine what you could do with a little stability.” Garrett’s shoulders sagged, as if he’d lost the will to fight. “You know, maybe Preston’s idea to set us up isn’t so terrible. We were good together, but we were kids. I wasn’t ready for anything serious.”

“But now you are,” Spencer said in a monotone. He plastered himself against the wall, the chair rail digging into his lower back, when Garrett took a step into his space.

“I’ve thought about you a lot over the years. The one that got away, you know? You loved me once. I might have loved you too. How about we get to know each other again? See where this can go.”

“Because dating the boss’s son would be good for your career?” Spencer leveled a withering glare at Garrett. When his words were met with a blank stare, he pushed Garrett away. “I don’t do relationships anymore. And if I decided to start, it wouldn’t be with you.”

He marched back to their table without caring to look over his shoulder to see if Garrett was following him. There was another drink near his plate.

“I ordered you another bourbon,” Preston said. He buttered a piece of bread without making eye contact with Spencer. “I take it you and Garrett aren’t hitting it off? Give him a chance, at least. By the end of dinner, you may change your mind. He’s a promising young man with a bright future.”

Spencer shrugged on his jacket. “Then you date him.” He kicked back his whiskey and smiled at his father’s indignant stare. “Thanks for the booze. Great birthday. See you next year.”

He hurried out of the dining area, refusing to look back, knowing that his escape would be easy. Preston Ewing would rather be struck by lightning than make a scene.

When he passed the maitre d’ station, he scooped up a handful of the complementary mints and stashed them in his jacket pocket. Anton cocked his head, confused. “Mr. Ewing?”

Spencer unwrapped one of the mints and popped it in his mouth. “Tell me Anton. Are you single?”

Anton nervously adjusted his tie. “Yes.”

“Good man.” Spencer patted him on the shoulder. “Keep it that way.” Leaning in and lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, he added, “But if you’re in the market for a selfish dipshit, one’s dining with my father.”

He strolled out of the restaurant, leaving Anton stunned into silence. The evening air was bracing, and its cold slap to his face had a sobering effect. He collapsed against the side of the building, hands braced on his knees, shaky as he came down from the adrenaline.

Memories of his past with Garrett tore through his mind. All these years, he’d been so focused on the pain of their breakup that he never looked deeper. He’d been blind to the fact that their entire relationship had been built on lies.

Tears stung his eyes. The few happy memories from that time were tainted now. Their laughter and tender moments hadn’t meant anything. Nothing they’d shared had been real. Garrett had used him in every sense of the word.

Spencer angrily swiped the tears from his cheeks. If he’d ever needed a reminder that love was a damn lie that needed to be avoided at all costs, he’d just received it.

Loud and clear.