Darrin Peters stared at the memo in front of him. Written there on the Peters & Mayhew Construction letterhead, in his office manager’s distinctly neat writing was the following simple phrase:
Please call Marco Zanetti at 1-902-749-4201 regarding renovations to the old house at Plover Point.
Marco Zanetti. Darrin hadn’t encountered that name in a very long time. For a second he wondered if it could be the same boy. Well, man. But the connection to the house at Plover Point left no doubt. It had to be him.
Darrin had heard through the Somerville grapevine that the lot had been purchased, but he’d never have guessed that the purchaser was Marco. And likely Sam Harris was a part of it.
Sam Harris. As far as Darrin knew they were still together. Had been together since that fateful afternoon.
Flashes of memory returned to him that were painful and pleasurable at once. It had been a hot summer day. They’d played a casual game of soccer with the other guys, and then he and Sam had convinced Marco to come with them to the beach. But Sam had planned this in advance and Darrin had agreed. He’d known what might happen, since Sam had been interested in the soft-spoken introvert for some time. But, honestly, the idea of an afternoon threesome in the abandoned beach house had been entirely irresistible to Darrin’s hormone-addled brain at the time.
It was a good memory with a painful ending. He and Sam had introduced Marco to a whole world of physical pleasure amid the decaying wood and sea-salt smell of the house at Plover Point. They’d taken turns together, all three of them, until it was hard to know who was who anymore. Darrin remembered such a feeling of euphoria and excitement that he had never experienced before or since. But afterward, while he slept in a coma of contentment, Sam had told Marco of his strong feelings and Marco had succumbed to the invitation that presented itself.
Who could blame him? Sam in those days had been magnificent. Surfer blond sun-bleached hair, eyes the softest caramel, a perfect splatter of freckles on his nose and cheeks.
Darrin remembered other things too. The way Sam’s long cock looked all wet and glistening after Darrin sucked it, making the boy moan and whisper dirty things he wanted Darrin to do next. The way Sam’s musical laugh would bubble forth when Darrin’s intimate kisses tickled. The way Sam’s expressive face looked at the moment of orgasm.
Darrin cleared his throat as his cock swelled in his jeans. He shook his head, ridding it of those thoughts. That Sam was gone now. Grown older like the rest of them and living with Marco, he was inaccessible to Darrin and he might as well forget about the way things had been. It was ancient history.
He would like a general estimate on the cost of a full tear-down and rebuild.
Oh yeah? So they were going to do to the broken down shack what they’d done to Darrin that day? Losing Sam that way had been devastating, no matter how tough and uncaring he’d seemed on the outside. He’d gone to college with a broken heart and an aimless sense of his future. He’d had to rebuild himself from the ground up, forgetting the blond boy and figuring out what he was going to do for sex and love from now on. He’d figured out the first part all right, and fairly quickly too. But the second part still eluded him.
And now here was Marco, years later, contacting him for estimates. Well, contacting the company. He probably didn’t know that Darrin’s father had passed away, leaving Darrin in charge of the Peters portion of Peters & Mayhew Construction. He probably thought Darrin was long gone in some other direction.
His phone buzzed. “Yes, Melanie?”
“Your ten o’clock is here.”
“Thank you. Show them to the boardroom. I’ll be there shortly.”
Darrin pushed the note to the side of his desk and opened his laptop, checking to see who he was meeting with this morning so he could gather his thoughts.