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Mark's Midlife

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Chapter 1: Chapter 1

You see it all started a few nights ago in southern Florida.

I was sitting on a white sofa in a swanky modern beach house that is owned by an incredibly gorgeous dark-haired man who was reclining on a matching sofa opposite me. My brother-in-law, Cole, sat in a white chair between the couches.

When we arrived in this home an hour before, the homeowner, Stefano, offered us cocktails (“Sharkbites,” if you can believe it), and changed into a pair of black silk pajama pants and a black tank top. His hair is just about as black as his clothes, and he has the kind of tan skin that makes you wonder if he was born with it or if it’s a gift from the sun. He was barefooted, and I noticed that he was well pedicured. Something about him told me that his feet probably didn’t even stink. Looking him over on the sofa, I realized that I should’ve been attracted to him and that most people he meets probably go ape shit over him in a matter of minutes, but only a few hours before he had been married to my nephew, and I realized he’s one of those guys.

I know, I know. I shouldn’t judge people, but if you were a gay man my age, you would know exactly what I mean by, one of those guys. He’s the kind of guy who has lived long enough that he appears to have his shit together. Then you see him walking arm-in-arm with a guy half his age, and you realize he’s one of those guys.

Don’t get me wrong, I am all about live and let live, I just don’t allow myself to get attracted to those kind of men. Guys like him are the reason that I quit dating.

“Are you all hungry?” he asked. “I’m pretty good in the kitchen.”

I imagined that he was, and I also imagined that he was pretty good in the bedroom, but I preferred not to test him in either location. Unfortunately, I was hungry. Really hungry. I just didn’t want to tell him that.

“I could eat,” I answered, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“I’m starved,” Cole said, rising from his chair with a smile. “We didn’t get to really finish our meals back at the restaurant.”

***

There’s a rumor that stories about my nephews have been getting out lately—really intimate stuff about their lives written down for everyone to read. Hearing that I thought, Did the boys really write all this down? After all, Logan is a wannabe novelist. Of course, I didn’t want to ask them, but I thought, What the hell? I’ve got a story worth telling. Looking at what you’ve read so far, I guess that like my nephews, I kind of get ahead of myself sometimes. In case you haven’t heard those stories about my nephews, let me briefly explain how I ended up in this beach house in the first place.

You see, it all started with my brother-in-law. I can’t say no to him. I couldn’t when he was my commanding officer, and I can’t now. It’s not only that he’s gorgeous, and even at fifty plus looks like the young dad in a wholesome TV drama. It’s not just because I used to fantasize about him from time to time when we were stationed on a small island in the middle of nowhere. Aside from those things, it’s also because his wife just died a few years ago, and he has managed to carry on like a trooper. We were both crazy in love with my sister, just in entirely different ways. I should also mention that I am a sucker for his two kids, my only nephews, who both happen to be involved in this story I am about to tell. It also might have something to do with the fact that long before Cole was my brother-in-law, he was also my mentor, and at a time when I really needed one, my best friend.

When Cole called me over a year ago to tell me that my nephew Sam had been accepted into Suncoast University’s School of Law, and would be attending on a full scholarship, I was proud. When Cole called to tell me that Sam was moving in with two male-model looking billionaire twins in a beach house so they could live in domestic and romantic bliss, I bragged to my friends for weeks. As you can imagine, Cole felt a little differently.

That’s why he sent Logan, Sam’s little brother, to Suncoast—to straighten Sam out. When he told me that, I laughed hysterically. I love me some Logan, but he would not be on the SWAT Team I would send in to rescue people who I thought were ruining their lives. In those situations, Logan has usually been the one being rescued, and oftentimes, it’s by Sam.

To make a long story short, the whole thing got really wild, really fast. Cole called me the morning that Logan went off to Shark Beach a little happy, a little worried. About a week later he called me again. This time, he was frantic.

“Oh, my God, Mark. I have got to talk to you,” Cole said, in that voice he never used in front of his children, the one that I imagine he had used only with Emily, myself, and a handful of other people around whom he let down his guard.

“Good, because I’ve got to talk to you too,” I said, slowly sipping my second cup of coffee. I had spit out most of my first cup of coffee during the first call I had received that morning. “What’s going on, Cole?”

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