Title: Chaser
Series: Chaser, Book One
Author: Rick R. Reed
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: February 24, 2020
Length: 67500
Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, Insta-love, family illness, separation, perceived cheating, physical fitness, narcissistic character, betrayal
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Synopsis
Caden DeSarro is what they call a chubby chaser. He likes his guys with a few extra pounds on them. So when he meets Kevin Dodge in a bar bathroom, he can’t help but stare. As far as Caden is concerned, Kevin is physically perfect: a stocky bearded blond. But Caden gets tongue-tied and misses his chance.
When Caden runs into Kevin one night on the el train, he figures it’s fate offering him a second shot. Caden manages to get invited back to Kevin’s place for a one-night stand that turns into the kind of relationship he’s dreamed about.
But the course of true love never runs smoothly—Kevin and Caden’s romance is no exception. When Caden returns from a few weeks away on business, Kevin surprises him with a new and “improved” body—one that fits Caden’s shallow friend Bobby’s ideal, but not Caden’s. Caden doesn’t know what to do, and his hesitation is just the opportunity Bobby was looking for.
Chaser ©2020 Rick R. Reed
I love this excerpt because it details, in a funny way, how the search for love can go so horribly wrong. And…I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t based on personal experience (but you didn’t hear that from me!).
“Wanna come by my house? I live just a couple blocks away on Cornelia.”
The proposition came along with an aromatherapy of alcohol fumes on Matt’s part and a cloud of second thoughts on Caden’s. He knew, from what little conversation they had shared, that the pair of them had little in common. He also realized that the hour was growing late, the beefy blond had not appeared as he had hoped in Little Jim’s, and Bobby had left hours ago with his FG man of the night, about which, he was sure, he would hear endless details the next day.
Caden could stagger home with Matt, have quick, probably unsatisfying sex, exchange phone numbers that would never be called, and have perhaps a headache and an STD to show for it in the morning.
The choice was an easy one. Caden turned to Matt, smiled, and said, “Sure. You about ready?”
“I am so ready, handsome. Let’s go.”
Matt’s apartment on Cornelia was in a charmless four-story building Caden would have dated from the 1970s. It was basically a big box with a parking garage underneath. Briefly, he wondered what the architects were thinking when they put up these monstrosities. About the only charitable thing that could be said about them was that they lived up to their intended function—providing a home. But they looked so hideous, especially next to the elegant greystones and vintage apartment buildings also dotting the neighborhood.
The lobby was more of the same midcentury blandness—a bank of bronze-colored mailboxes on one wall, faux marble tile on the walls, stained beige carpeting on the floor, and a gilt-adorned chandelier with dusty teardrop crystals and strands of cobwebs running between its upright electric candles, about a third of which had burned out.
“Nice place,” Caden said, trying to put some conviction behind the words. Tacky or not, this was still someone’s home. Besides, he had not followed Matt back here to check out his building’s décor.
The two boarded the elevator, which was tiny, rattling and shimmying all the way to the fourth floor. Caden pretended to admire the gold-leaf wallpaper and smoked gold vein mirror tiles as they arose, just so he wouldn’t have to look at Matt’s clenched-teeth, drunken grin.
It took a couple of tries for Matt to match key to keyhole at his front door. Caden waited politely, thinking how Matt smelled like a cross between a distillery and a brewery. It wasn’t exactly an arousing combo, yet he made no attempt to leave. You can, you know. You can just walk away. You could say something honest like, “Sorry, man, I’m just not into this” or even lie and say you aren’t feeling so hot or the old chestnut about realizing you have to get up really early in the morning. Why go through with this when, right now, you’re feeling hardly any attraction? Out of politeness?
Matt turned and grinned at him when he got the door open. Caden noticed the light sheen of sweat on his face. You can leave now before he pukes all over himself, or worse, you.
“Come on in,” Matt said, and Caden continued to be amazed at the clarity of his new friend’s words. It was like the signs of drunkenness were present in every other aspect save this one. Indeed, they had walked home looking like lovers, with their arms wrapped around the other’s waist. The truth was that this was Caden’s way of ensuring his friend did not stagger, or worse, fall down, as they made their way back to Matt’s apartment.
Go on, say it. Just tell him you’ll take a pass and you’re heading home. In spite of his inner dialogue, Caden felt powerless to do anything other than follow the guy inside. Whether it was out of an absurd sense of decorum or that he was simply horny and any cock would do didn’t really matter, because Caden knew he was going to go through with this as much as he knew he would regret it tomorrow.
Maybe if I get things over with really fast….
The apartment was utilitarian and very, very small, even for a studio. Matt revealed himself to have neither the alleged gay propensity for decorating nor neatness. One wall was taken up by a big picture window, through which the illumination from a streetlight showed through vinyl mini blinds. Beneath it was positioned a futon, still wearing its smashing outfit of striped sheets and a wadded up plaid comforter. For throw pillows, there were two actual bed pillows crouching at one end. The coffee table in front of it could have come out of central casting for “bachelor pad.” Its faux oak surface was hardly visible beneath the Giordano’s pizza boxes and numerous empty Michelob bottles and cans of Diet Coke. Wads of clothes occupied a lot of the floor space, and Caden took in Matt’s sad attempt at decorating—a Herb Ritts poster, unframed, tacked to the wall with pushpins.
A dead spider plant languished on the windowsill.
“Come on in and sit down,” Matt urged. “You want something to drink? I’m gonna get a beer.”
Caden wandered the few feet it would take to get to the couch and sat down gingerly on it. A profusion of crumbs adorned the futon’s surface. Maybe we could just blow each other real quick, and I can be out of here in fifteen minutes—or less. That is, if I can get it up, or if he can….
Matt raised his eyebrows from across the room, where he stood poised at the smallest refrigerator Caden had seen outside of a dorm room. “Well? Beer?”
“Nah. I think I’ve had enough.” And so have you, he thought, but didn’t say.
Matt opened his beer, flinging the cap into the sink, and sat down on the couch next to Caden. Caden turned his head, watching as Matt took a big swallow and thinking Matt’s next move would be to kiss him. After all, they both knew why he was here, right? Caden settled back into the futon, trying to ignore the crunching sound and the stiffness of the sheets beneath him.
Why does this futon smell like Old Spice? he wondered.
He spread his legs and let his head loll back, thinking he might be looking very seductive, especially to a drunk stranger at about one o’clock in the morning. He waited for the feel of Matt’s lips on his own. In no time, they would be tugging at each other’s zipper. Cocks would be produced, sucked, drained, and Caden could be mercifully on his way.
How blissfully romantic!
Except that’s not what happened. Caden opened his eyes to see Matt crouched on the floor beneath what appeared to be a forty-two-inch plasma screen TV, loading up the Blu-ray player beneath it. The TV was the only thing that looked new—and clean—in the entire apartment. Caden guessed Matt was putting in some mood-setting porn, and although the prospect was tawdry and sleazy, he was all for anything that would accelerate the inevitable.
He longed for the comfort of his own clean sheets.
He undid the top button of his jeans and lowered his zipper to about half-mast. He was pleased to feel he was actually getting a little aroused at the thought of new porn and the prospect of Matt’s drunken lips on his cock.
Matt joined him back on the futon, his shoulders touching Caden’s. Casually, Caden let his left hand slide onto Matt’s thigh and let it rest there while Matt aimed a remote at the opposite wall.
Imagine Caden’s surprise when what came up on the screen was not the latest offering from Hot Desert Knights, Catalina, or Treasure Island Media, but that 1980s Christmas classic Scrooged, starring Mr. Bill Murray. While Caden had seen the movie and certainly found it an amusing take on Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, it just seemed, well, weird, that a trick would put it on now. For one thing, it was October, so the movie was clearly inappropriate.
For another, who the hell put on a Christmas comedy to heat things up with a trick?
Am I really here? Is this really happening? Caden wondered as he watched the opening images of the film before glancing down at his own hand, lying hotly on Matt’s blue-jeaned thigh.
It was then he heard the snore. He looked up to see Matt’s handsome face in repose, mouth open and drooling, his head lolling on the back edge of the futon.
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Real Men. True Love.
Rick R. Reed draws inspiration from the lives of gay men to craft stories that quicken the heartbeat, engage emotions, and keep the pages turning. Although he dabbles in horror, dark suspense, and comedy, his attention always returns to the power of love. He’s the award-winning and bestselling author of more than fifty works of published fiction and is forever at work on yet another book. Lambda Literary has called him: “A writer that doesn’t disappoint…” You can find him at www.rickrreedreality.blogspot.com. Rick lives in Palm Springs, CA, with his beloved husband, Bruce, and their fierce Chihuahua/Shiba Inu mix, Kodi.
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