For the Roses [Suncoast Society] Read online

  Freak out? He wanted to jump on the table and scream with joy!

  He kept his reaction chill and plucked the draft beer card list from its place by the napkin holder on the table so he could study it. “That’s cool. Who?”

  “When I say work, I mean Sarasota County. Remember Tristan Chapman?”

  “Yeah?”

  “He’ll be here with his roommate and rope-buddy, Kyle.”

  “What?”

  Jackson smiled. “You heard me. Tristan and Kyle run a rope group at Venture. Shibari.”

  Yes!

  Elvin scratched at his chin and slowly nodded as hours of online perving of shibari sites ran through his mind in a second. “That’s cool.”

  Jackson wore a knowing smirk. “Dude, you said that already, and you play chill horribly. I watched you the other day while Leanne and Meghan were discussing BDSM books for their book club before school while we were all doing drop-off duty. You were practically leaning into both of them from behind to eavesdrop. It was hysterical. If I’d known you were into the lifestyle before, I would have told you sooner.”

  Elvin contemplated a bunch of different answers. “What if I am? Interested, I mean.”

  “Like I said, if you were gay, I could fix you up. But I wanted to introduce you around to some people, let you get to know them. Invite you to meet us at the club tomorrow night, if you want. There’s a munch coming up next Sunday. The good thing is the club has a group of regulars, including some of their volunteers, called the Frightful Five.”

  “The whut?”

  “I know, it’s just a nickname. They’re amateur matchmakers with a perfect track record, so far. Come out to the club tomorrow night with us and meet people and let’s see if we can find you someone. Even if you don’t date, there are almost always people who are willing to play.”

  This was either a really horrible setup that might go wrong in a multitude of ways…

  Or his friend was answering a prayer.

  He opted for trust and hoped Jackson wouldn’t screw him over. “I’d be interested in that. Not playing—not yet. I need to learn stuff. Especially rope. But…yeah. You’re right that I need to date in a different pond. I just didn’t know if it was a safe pond before.”

  “Great.” Jackson’s grin returned. “I was worried I’d maybe misinterpreted your reaction, and that would have made Monday’s drop-off duty reeeeally awwwwkward.”

  “Monday? What about the ride home from here?”

  Jackson laughed. “That, too.”

  Chapter Three

  Elvin fought against the nervous tension threatening to wind his gut into painful knots as he sat and chatted with Jackson and Noah while awaiting the others. He knew the image he put forth to most of his friends and coworkers—calm, serene. That wasn’t him bragging, that was something he’d been called before. Especially now, post-accident, and with his “new” body.

  Even eleven years later, he still thought of it like that.

  He felt a lot calmer, most of the time, than he had before his accident. Mostly because he felt more confident, on average, as long as he was within the comfortable bubble of his work-home routine.

  Which, since he didn’t have a girlfriend, comprised nearly his entire routine, he was sad to admit.

  But it also meant he wasn’t dealing with racist bullshit most of the time, either. Because once he’d bulked up following his accident, as part of his PT, he’d noticed strangers—usually white strangers—tended to treat him one of two ways—either more warily than people had when he was a skinny, unimposing, harmless-looking twig, or practically wanting to fetishize him because of his uncomfortably uncanny resemblance to The Rock, only a couple shades darker brown and not quite as bulky.

  If he hadn’t shaved his head the resemblance wouldn’t be so pronounced. But then he’d started losing his hair from the forehead back, the way every damn male in his family did. That was in addition to the bare patches from scars from his accident. Not shaving wasn’t an option, in his mind.

  The Sorrellson Academy faculty parking and PTO member stickers on the back of his car probably helped him avoid more police stops than he might otherwise suffer through. He wasn’t exactly a fast driver or reckless driver, either. He lived relatively close to work, in the same house he’d lived in for over twenty years, in a middle-class mixed neighborhood, and drove a nondescript four-door Kia sedan that was a couple of years old. He shopped at the same grocery store at approximately the same time of day every week, saw the same cashiers nearly every time.

  Boring. The word to describe his life was boring.

  For its part, Sorrellson was a pretty diverse mix, both in its faculty and student body. He didn’t feel as much like an outsider in his two years there as he had during his twenty-five years teaching in the county school system. The only time so far he’d bumped into a situation with an overtly racist parent at Sorrellson, the principal and dean had his back immediately and to a surprisingly vicious extent, given the circumstances, including threatening to expel the student if the parent didn’t immediately apologize to Elvin.

  Part of the enrollment process for parents and students at Sorrellson was signing a binding code of conduct that specifically prohibited that kind of behavior and allowed for student expulsion if the parent misbehaved. It was especially great for curbing inappropriate parental behavior at sporting events.

  Since Sorrellson was damned hard to get into in the first place, with a long waiting list for admission, it helped curb that kind of behavior. Still, he definitely never would have expected—much less received—that level of support as a public school teacher.

  It wasn’t a perfect world he lived in, but he was enjoying the small amount of damn privilege he had finally clawed out for himself. He’d damn sure fucking earned it and deserved every bit of it. He drew a pension from his county retirement and was also getting paid to teach, meaning he was banking money in savings now. For the first time in his life, it felt like he had all his shit together in nearly every part of his life—except when it came to romance.

  Not for lack of trying on his part, except dating sites left him cold and he wasn’t one for random hookups.

  His new-found confidence wasn’t only because of the physical changes he’d gone through—the bad and the positive—but the mental and emotional ones, as well. He’d faced death, lost a couple of weeks of his life while in a coma, and the arduous recovery hadn’t merely been a challenge against his injuries, but against himself.

  Against the mental and emotional stagnation he’d felt ever since his divorce. Feeling less-than.

  Trying to expunge the sound of Keisha’s voice from his memory as she’d asked him for a divorce and basically listed his short-comings, most of them striking hard and deep at his pride, before informing him she’d met someone else and he was pretty much everything Elvin wasn’t.

  Including rich and willing to pay for the divorce to get it over with as quickly as possible, and all Elvin had to do was name his price.

  It’d caused heartache and heartbreak he hadn’t been sure he’d survive, back then. So he’d shoved it deep inside him and refused to deal with it.

  Years later, it’d been all wrapped up in a very neat and tidy perspective-shifting car wreck that nearly killed him and forced him to take a long, hard look at himself.

  Wasn’t like there was much else to do while lying in a hospital bed.

  So while most people thought he was pretty chill, some of those times—like now—he wasn’t.

  He was barely keeping himself from nervously tapping his foot, anxiety trying to find a foothold somewhere to climb on board with him.

  It wasn’t Tristan who arrived first, but a couple maybe his own age or just a hair younger, a man and woman. Jackson and Noah greeted them with friendly hugs before Jackson introduced them.

  “Eliza, Rusty, this is our friend and my coworker I was telling you about, Elvin Wynn.”

  “Nice to meet you,” he said, starting to stick
out his hand just to find Eliza already opening her arms and offering him a hug, which he started to accept with a polite, one-armed hug just for her to go full-on embrace. “Oh, okay, we’re bringing it in. Call me Wynn.”

  “Very nice to meet you, Wynn,” Eliza said. “Jackson told me a lot about you.”

  “He did?”

  “Yep! Looking forward to chatting tonight.”

  Rusty seemed just as friendly, except he shook with him.

  “I already warned him about the Frightful Five,” Jackson said to Eliza. “I have also now confirmed he’s one of us.”

  Her smile widened and her gaze didn’t leave Elvin. “Did you now? Did he tell you I’m one of the Frightful Five?”

  “No offense, but you don’t look very frightful.”

  Rusty snorted. “Ha! Try being married to her and getting your ass beat by her and get back to me.”

  She lightly backhanded her husband’s shoulder. “Quiet, barbarian. Don’t scare him off. Time for me to work my magic.” She literally cracked her knuckles.

  Literally.

  Elvin found himself facing a rapid-fire round of questions, half he didn’t even know the answers to, but Jackson offered answers for him on his behalf.

  After five minutes, Elvin held up his hands. “Whoa. Can we slow this down? I’m not even sure”—he glanced around before lowering his voice—“where I fit in the kink world. I’m really new to all of this.”

  He didn’t think it’d be possible for her smile to grow even wider, but it did. “That’s actually a great thing to admit.”

  “It is?”

  “Yeah. It means you’re not a cocky asshole, and you’re willing to keep an open mind and learn. Makes you safer.”

  “You did just hear me say I don’t know what I’m doing, right?”

  “Yeah, but you admit it. You’d be shocked how many assholes think they’re an expert because they saw a movie, or read a book, and then start plowing through partners. They think they have all the answers, and you can’t teach them a damn thing.”

  “I’ve taught school for twenty-seven years. Trust me, I will never admit I have all the answers to everything.”

  * * * *

  By the time they left the sports bar, Elvin had met several other people, reconnected with Tristan—and his partners—and realized he finally felt like maybe he’d just stumbled onto the last missing piece he’d been searching for in his life. Eliza had exchanged phone numbers and e-mail addresses with him so she could get in touch with him later and ask him more follow-up questions.

  From what he gathered, she was eager to see who she could find for him. She’d assured him it might take a little while, but their little group of matchmakers would find someone for him.

  He wouldn’t hold his breath, but he appreciated her enthusiasm.

  “What’d you think?” Jackson asked as Noah got them headed back toward Elvin’s.

  “Everyone seemed nice. Man, Eliza is intense, though.”

  Jackson laughed. “Yeah, she is. But she seemed to like you. That’s really good.”

  “How can you guys claim she’s scary? Her husband’s a huge guy.”

  “Oh, she’s scary. She’s got like a couple of black belts and is a combat expert with one of those ren fair groups. And she’s a pretty mean Top. I’ve seen her play several times.”

  “She seemed nice.”

  “She is nice. Sweetest sadist you’ll ever meet.”

  That made Noah laugh, but he didn’t interrupt.

  “So this munch thing y’all mentioned,” Elvin started. “The thing next Sunday. What is that?”

  “It’s a dinner at a restaurant. We take over their meeting room. Kind of like what we did tonight, only with less beer and a lower volume and more freedom to talk because everyone around us is into the lifestyle.”

  “And a pricier menu,” Noah said.

  “Well, it’s at the steakhouse this month,” Jackson clarified.

  Elvin shook his head. “I don’t want to lose my job, man.”

  “You won’t. You don’t see me shying away from it. I’ve been going for a while.” Jackson turned enough to look back at Elvin over his seat. “Is doing what you’ve been doing working for you?”

  “No.” He sighed. “It ain’t.”

  “Okay, then. We’re going. Eliza and Rusty will be there. At the very least, you’ll know the four of us. Maybe even more, depending if anyone from tonight shows up. First step is tomorrow night, though. We’ll pick you up and you’ll go to Venture with us.”

  “You afraid I won’t show up?”

  Noah snorted. “Yeah, he is. After how scared I was at first because of my job, that’s exactly what he’s thinking.”

  “True story,” Jackson said. “We’ll pick you up at six, we’ll go to Sigalo’s for dinner with some of the gang before, and then to Venture. So by next Sunday, you’ll already know several people and won’t feel out of place.”

  “All right.” The three beers he’d allowed himself were already wearing off, his buzz waning. “Can’t hurt, I guess.”

  “Just remember that everyone at one of those things is there for the same reason. They have every reason to keep your privacy, and are counting on you to keep theirs.”

  They reached his house and waited for him to get the front door unlocked before backing out of the driveway as he waved.

  Walking inside felt…empty after an evening spent with pleasant company and having interesting conversations.

  He supposed that was one good thing, anyway. Keisha had “magnanimously” let him keep the house when she left because her sugar daddy was buying her one, apparently. She’d also reminded him of that several times during the proceedings, to the point he’d wanted to ask her if she thought she deserved a cookie for it or something.

  Not like it had eased the sting of her cheating on him. But he hadn’t had to fight her over it. Her boyfriend had wanted her divorced as quickly as possible, and whatever Elvin had wanted, he got.

  He’d wanted the damn house, because it was in his name, and he’d been the one making bank, back then.

  In some ways, the clean, fast break had hurt even more. That she’d been so…eager to escape their marriage. Hadn’t even wanted to work on it.

  Had apparently been cheating on him for months before she’d asked for a divorce, and he’d been so busy working that he hadn’t even noticed.

  No, what I’ve been doing ain’t been working for me.

  He was willing to put a little trust and faith in Eliza and her intense certainty if it meant maybe yanking himself out of his rut.

  He’d guard his heart, guard his privacy, and hope his luck was about to change for the better.

  Chapter Four

  Saturday evening, Meredith tried not to fidget as she rode with Ron.

  “When do I get to know what’s going on?”

  “When I decide to let you know.” He tipped his head toward her, a playful smile on his face.

  “Maybe you should be a Dom,” she muttered.

  He evilly giggled. “Who said I’m not?”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Seriously?”

  “You really want to have that conversation with your little bro?”

  She thought about it for a moment. “No.”

  “Good, because neither do I. It was uncomfortable enough when you came out to me as kinky.”

  “I only did that so you wouldn’t kill someone I was dating.”

  “How’d that work out for ya? If you’d given me the fucker’s full name and address, I would have paid him a visit when I flew up after your surgery.”

  She rolled her eyes, but in reality, yeah, he probably would have. When she’d called Ron sobbing that morning after Peter had broken up with her and left, finally admitting to Ron about the cancer, and her surgery, he hadn’t even bitched her out about it. He’d immediately booked a flight for that afternoon and showed up on her doorstep, taking time off from work and staying for two weeks to care for her, take her to fo
llow-up appointments, and hold her while she cried.

  Not once had he yelled at her for not telling him about her diagnosis before her surgery. She hadn’t wanted to worry him and knew he was already worried enough about her because she’d been laid off and having trouble finding a new job.

  Plus she’d thought she had Peter. After three years, she’d thought there were more emotions there on his part for her. She’d thought he loved her. She didn’t want to worry Ron and had planned to downplay the whole thing. Their mom had survived a bout with breast cancer when they were kids, but their mom’s mom and a sister had died from it. She didn’t want Ron panicking about her.

  She and Ron gave each other unconditional love, the kind their parents should have given them both, but didn’t. Well, they’d given it to her, but when they’d turned on Ron after he came out right out of high school, Meredith had turned on them. Like hell would she abandon her little brother.

  She also didn’t know why she didn’t honestly think about it before, about Ron being a Dom. It did fit him and made perfect sense. Ron was pretty damn Domly, in the good ways. He always had been, and frequently when they were kids it was her following his lead despite their age difference. It’d be stupid to deny the obvious.

  Now if I could only find someone for me, who can add the sexy kind of Domly into the mix, life would be peachy.

  “I like the hair, by the way.” He smirked.

  “Thank you.”

  “I told you she was amazing.”

  She played with her now-red locks. “I always wanted to be a red-head.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “I didn’t have time to mess with it because of work. And Peter always said no, he preferred me as a blonde. Then…then shit happened.”

  That was her euphemism for the cancer diagnosis.

  “I’ll pay you back,” she added. “Once I’m working again.”

  “Like hell you will, Meri,” he said. “This is part of my early birthday gift to you.”