For the men in this collection, love begins as an illusion. Haunted by their pasts, their presents, and their futures, each one is not quite sure where they are in life ... until they meet the person who finally lives up to the ideal.
From a lonely psychiatrist who still regrets a past mistake, a footman who’s trying to live down his father’s bad reputation, to a guy just looking for a Halloween costume who now must deal with the supernatural, this story collection offers the best -- and sometimes worst -- decisions men have made while seeking redemption and love. For each man, finding their partner -- be it a stranger at a pool, a stripper, or even their Secret Santa match -- is a long chase that’s definitely worth the happy ending.
Contains the stories: Alone and In Debt; Best Two Out of Three; Book Lovers; Costumed Kiss; Just Like the Movies; Lucky Numbers; Measuring the Sky; Midnight Swim; Peace of Mind; Plato for Plumbers; Small Changes, Big Rewards; Soap and Skin; Ten Thousand Steps; and The Imposter.
EXCERPT FROM "Midnight Swim"
When Devon turns around, he comes face to face with the man in the blue shorts. His hair is wet, but combed back neatly across his head. Up close, his age is less apparent only made visible through his grey hair small creases around his eyes. When he smiles, the lines get deeper.
“Hello,” he says. He extends a hand. Devon shakes it, though his muscles are weak. The man’s hand is still cold and damp, but his grip is strong. Comforting. A white t-shirt sits across his body, taut against the muscles in his arms. Devon breaths in quickly, smelling the faint scent of chlorine masked with aftershave.
“Hi,” Devon says slowly. He shuffles his gym bag over his arm and smiles.
“I saw you admiring the pool,” the man says, explaining his sudden appearance by Devon’s side with a wide and open expression. “Have you been in the pool before?”
Devon laughs, but becomes serious again when the man’s eyes have not left him. Devon runs his hand through his curly hair. “Oh, no. I’m not much of a swimmer.”
“How come?”
Devon sighs. “Long story. I mostly perfect the machines. You get an accurate reading that way.”
“Accurate reading for what?” the man asks, tilting his head to the side.
“You know, heart rate, calories, energy spent. That type of stuff.”
“Ah. Can’t you use your own body as a gauge? Can’t you feel how tired or how enlivened you are by the work out?”
Devon clenches his jaw. He feels the burn in his thighs. For the next hour, he knows he will be shaky on his feet. But it’s something he’s learned to crave, something he’s expected is a part of the whole work-out process.
“Um, well, I guess that’s true too. But I prefer knowing for sure.”
The man nods. “I think we may have to try an experiment, then.”
Devon eyes widen. The man digs through his pocket and pulls out a small business card and slides it to Devon.
“Come by afterwards, when the gym is closed. We’ll go for a swim.”
Sal’s Gym is written across the top of the card, next to their logo of a two weights crossing one another to make an X. There are hours of operations listed with Monday-Friday times ending at around midnight. When Devon flips the card over, he notes four digits written in pen. He eyes the man in front of him.
“I don’t quite understand.”
“That’s the code for the building.” The man leans his arm against the side of the lockers. He’s not as tall as he seemed by the pool, but he’s still as firm as Devon remembers. Grey hair pokes out of the top of his t-shirt. When Devon looks closer, he notices a few stray strands of blonde mixed in with the gray on his head. When wet, the blonde hair shines almost golden under the gym lights.
“Um,” Devon says. “Is that allowed?”
“My friend owns the place.”
“He’s Sal?”
“Sandra, actually. She inherited from her husband. Bad divorce, but a good lawyer.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Her husband’s indiscretion was the typical story of a man having sex with his personal trainer against the Stairmaster and the wife coming in late one night and realizing what was going on. But instead of going into histrionics, Sandra got a good lawyer and now she has a franchise. So maybe that’s a good divorce story, depending on how you look at things,” the man smiles, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t you think?”
Devon swallows, his throat suddenly dry. The man must know that he was on the Stairmaster as he watched him at the pool. That type of a remark cannot be a coincidence. Devon scans the man’s eyes, but there is no sign of recognition.
“Yeah, I suppose it does depend,” Devon allows.
The man barely smiles again before clapping his hands together, as if he was an aerobics instructor. “Well, that’s enough small talk. Can I see you tonight?”
“Yeah, sure,” Devon says with a smile. “I’ll be there.”
“Great. My name is Wolf, by the way.” He extends his hand again. This time, Devon takes the hand with more courage.
“Devon.”
“Devon,” Wolf repeats. His voice makes Devon’s name sound rugged in his mouth. He smiles wider again, the creases around his eyes visible. “You’ll know where to find me.”
Devon nods, now mute. He watches as Wolf picks up his gym bag and then walks out of the room.
It is a while before Devon can walk again without shaking at his knees.
