Turkish Delight
‘One box of candies, one blindfold, and in one
night everything changed.’
BCB:
Thanks to a rough break-up, computer programmer
Leonard’s been miserable for months. He’s the first to admit, he picks partners
based on what he sees. Which, according to his brother Nate is his biggest
downfall. To prove a point, Nate forces him to attend a night of blindfold
speed dating. The men are plentiful, but making a choice goes against his
superficial nature.
As the evening draws to a close, he meets a man
who breaks all the rules. He gives Leonard a kiss and only one solid clue to
his identity before disappearing. Days after, and Leonard still can’t get that
kiss out of his mind. But without a name or face, he holds little hope of ever
finding the man.
Excerpt:
The Jeep hit the curb with a jolt. He
shut the engine down and I got out. Head back, I stared at the night sky, snow
wafting through the air, landing on my face and terra firma, the cold biting at
my cheeks and nose. The whole area, a city block, was desolate and had an eerie
silence about it.
“Well, we’re here.”
“And what is here?” I stood beside him, exhaling white puffs, my hands sunk deep
in my pockets.
“Your Christmas present.” He gave a nod
towards the commercial building in front of us. A large red sign with white
letters graced the front of it.
“Blindfold Speed Dating! What the—”
“You don’t know until you try.”
“This is where you brought me?
Seriously? The gay end of Vancouver for an evening of speed dating?”
“Yep, that’s what an older brother is
for. Merry frigging ho-ho!” Nathan tugged down on my shirt, straightening it
like our mother used to do when I was a child. Then he adjusted my tie and
jacket, smoothing and pulling here and there. “You’ve got a stain on your
shirt,” he griped, trying to tuck the hem in under my waistline.
“Come on, I’m not a kid!” I grabbed his
arm and removed it from my slacks.
“You look like you rolled out of a
dumpster.”
“I like dumpster diving!”
“Grow up.”
“I’ve never done anything like this,” I
whined.
He grabbed my wrist, turned my forearm
underside up, and slapped a glossy piece of paper the size of a bookmark on my
palm. “Cheer the fuck up and live a little.”
“But speed dating with a blindfold?
Sounds a little too noir for my taste.”
He sighed, spun me around with more
force than necessary, and pushed me in the direction of the entrance. “I’ll be
back to get you at eleven.”
I dug my heels in, he bumped into me,
and we slid across the sidewalk. “Nate, you know I’m not good at anything
social.”
He barked like our dad, “Move! And
don’t you dare skip out. Because I’ll know.” He made the I’m watching you two-fingered gesture several times.
I shook my head, shoving him away.
“You’re such a jerk.”
“Anne and I bought you the ticket
because we didn’t want to see you alone. No one should be alone at Christmas,”
he said with finality as if it was the last time we’d see each other.
Scrunching the ticket, I glared at him,
wondering where the hell he’d gotten the audacity to play Cupid. “Great. Got
it.”
He got in the Jeep and waved before
accelerating away.
Teetering on the edge of the sidewalk,
I shook a fist. “Asshole!”
When I stopped my verbal assault, I
realized how quiet it was. The snow had deadened the landscape like an
invisible force field keeping the rest of the city at bay. Vancouver Village
was a long way from home, especially when I didn’t have my car.
Light shone through the large windows,
glistening on the freshly fallen snow. White settled in a lacy pattern on my
clothes. I opened the door to the low decibel of male voices and a man wearing
a badge that said, Gary–Coordinator.
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