Title: Havana Bay
Series: Tides of Change #3
Author: John Patrick
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: 06/07/2023
Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 115200
Genre: Historical, historical, Cuba, age gap, male models, prostitution, gender bending, interracial/intercultural, tobacco farming, cigar production, college students, humor, politics, sexual awakening, virgin, public sex
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Description
“Cuba, 1952.
Twenty-year-old Ernesto Ruiz is determined to save his family’s cigar business by exporting directly to the American market, but he’ll need to learn about American customs and lifestyles first. That’s why he takes a part-time job at an American guest house.
Hank Mannix, a beefcake magazine model, enjoys his carefree life in Havana, where new men come and go every week. But his immediate attraction to the new gardener is different. He’s drawn to the young man in a way he’s never experienced before.
A fateful encounter in the garden results in a misunderstanding that upends both their lives. As they begin to acknowledge the true depth of their feelings for each other, they must navigate through a city and country on the brink of revolution. Ernesto and Hank strive to secure their own happiness in a world where the future is uncertain, and their love is forbidden.
With vivid historical detail and memorable characters, Havana Bay is a captivating story of love and revolution in a time of change.”
Havana Bay
John Patrick © 2023
All Rights Reserved
“Why so glum?” Cordero asked before downing the last splash of whiskey remaining in his tumbler.
Mannix shrugged in response and twisted his empty glass in small circles on the bar top.
Nearby, a slot machine jangled, the sound of nickels pouring into the coin hopper announcing a winner. A woman in a white mink stole swept past them, her perfume competing with the cigarette smoke filling the air of the gambling floor. Ceiling fans with wide blades lazily moved the blue haze in soft swirls.
In front of them, a bartender wearing a dinner jacket poured a bright blue cocktail from his shaker into several glasses he’d lined up along the bar. When he finished, he looked at Mannix. “Another, sir?”
“Two more, please,” Mannix responded, nodding to indicate Cordero’s empty glass.
Across the room, an orchestra was setting up on the stage.
“Come on,” urged Cordero. “Spit it out. You know you’re going to tell me eventually, and soon we won’t be able to hear each other over the music.”
Mannix let out a sigh. “You’re a good friend, Tony.” He nudged Cordero’s knee with his own.
“I know. I always tell you that, don’t I?” Their drinks arrived. “Come on, Hank. What’s eating at you?”
Mannix twisted his stool to face Cordero directly and took a deep swallow from his glass. “Right. So, I think I may have put one of the gardeners in an awkward situation.”
Cordero grinned. Mannix was always creating awkward situations. “What did you do this time?”
“Well, I was walking in the garden—”
“Wait,” Cordero interrupted. “Were you walking in the garden or lurking in the garden?”
“Well…”
Cordero shook his head. “Hank. We’ve talked about this. You don’t need to keep doing that sort of thing. You shouldn’t keep doing it.” He looked his friend in the eye. “For god’s sake, you’re thirty years old.”
“I’m twenty-nine,” Mannix objected. But that wasn’t the point, and Mannix knew it.
“It’s not like the old days in New York when you needed the money, and you sure don’t need the validation.” Cordero took a sip of his whiskey. “Heck, half these men choose to stay at Ada’s just for a chance to see you. In the flesh, I mean, rather than just jerking off to pictures of you in Pumped.”
“To see us,” Mannix corrected. “You’re famous too.”
“Hardly. I’m just your foil. And besides, I…well, never mind that. Back to your gardener. What happened? Did he come upon you unexpectedly while you were giving some account manager from New Jersey the time of his life?”
Mannix looked away and took a sip of his drink.
“Which gardener saw you?” Cordero continued. “Not the grubby one, I hope. There’s something off about him. I don’t trust him; he might use something like that against you.”
“No,” Mannix replied.
“Oh god, not the old guy with the missing finger? You might have shocked him into an early grave.”
“No,” Mannix said again. “You see—”
“Wait, was it the cute one? The one who looks like he’d faint if you so much as talked to him?” Mannix was silent. “It was him, wasn’t it? What did he say when he saw you?”
Mannix finished the rest of his drink in one swallow. “Yes, it was the cute one. Except he didn’t come across me with someone else. He…that is…we…”
“Good lord, Hank! Please tell me you didn’t seduce the gardener.”
“Shh.” Mannix glanced at the bartender. “Keep your voice down.”
Cordero took a drink, then leaned closer to whisper, “Honestly, Hank, this is too far, even for you. He’s likely to have a father or big brother who’ll come punch your lights out. What were you thinking?”
“Well, obviously I wasn’t thinking, Tony.” Mannix let out a huff. “And it’s worse than you’re imagining.”
Cordero finished his drink and signaled the bartender for two more. “I don’t know how it could be.”
“Well, it seems the cute one’s cousin…the grubby one…told the cute one he could make a dollar if he let an American…perform oral sex on him…in the garden. At least, I think that’s what he intended.”
“Wait, the grubby one told the cute one or the other way around? Do these gardeners have names?” Cordero asked.
“Not that I’m aware of, no.”
“So go on…you tried to seduce a member of the staff at Ada’s—Hans will be furious, you know—and, no, wait.” Cordero paused for a moment before continuing. “You said he thought he could earn a dollar. But who would he…?” Cordero trailed off as Mannix blushed.
“Oh. Oh, my God.” Cordero clapped his hands. “You! He thought you’d pay him!” Cordero didn’t try to disguise the delight he took in Mannix’s discomfort. “He thought you, Hank Mannix, would get down on your knees and—”
“Enough, Tony!” Mannix hissed. He glanced again to make sure the bartender wasn’t within earshot. “I’m humiliated enough already. There’s no need to rub it in.”
A girl in a short skirt selling cigarettes approached them, and Mannix waved her off.
“Well, did you?” Cordero asked.
Mannix rolled his eyes. “Of course not.” He ran a hand through his hair, then adjusted his tie. “The thing is, I may have gotten rather angry at the boy and gone all American on him, making him feel small and telling him to get back to work.”
“Ouch,” said Cordero. “Poor guy. It’s not his fault you’re closing in on thirty and crossing the threshold from young and poor to rich and needy.”
“If you don’t stop grinning, I might punch your lights out,” Mannix said.
Their third round of drinks arrived. Cordero lifted his in a toast. “To the cute one, for humbling the mighty Mannix!”
“You’re not the least bit funny,” Mannix complained, but he lifted his glass anyway. “To the cute one,” he agreed. He downed half his glass. “And you know, up close, he really is handsome. In entirely different circumstances, it would be tempting.”
Cordero raised an eyebrow. “He’s just a boy, and you’re—”
“We don’t need to keep talking about my age, Tony. And he’s not a boy. I think he’s…well, old enough anyway.” He picked up his glass and finished the other half of his drink. “And honestly, I think he was interested. In me, I mean. I think it would have worked if he hadn’t gotten distracted by the advice he’d gotten from the grubby one.”
“We need to give these boys names,” Cordero said. “And I think you owe the cute one an apology. He’s probably terrified.”
Across the hall, the orchestra launched into a lively swing number and couples began making their way to the dance floor.
Cordero leaned in and raised his voice to be heard over the music. “Come on, old man. Let’s get out of here before someone asks us to dance.”
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Author John Patrick is a Lambda Literary Award finalist living in the Berkshire Hills of Massachusetts, where he is supported in his writing by his husband and their terrier, who is convinced he could do battle with the bears that come through the woods on occasion (the terrier, that is, not the husband). An introvert, John can often be found doing introverted things like reading or writing, cooking, and thinking deep, contemplative thoughts (his husband might call this napping). He loves to spend time in nature—“forest bathing” is the Japanese term for it—feeling connected with the universe. But he also loathes heat and humidity, bugs of any sort, and unsteady footing in the form of rocks, mud, tree roots, snow, or ice. So his love of nature is tempered—he’s complicated that way.
John and his husband enjoy traveling and have visited over a dozen countries, meeting new people, exploring new cultures, and—most importantly—discovering new foods.
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