You Can See Me (3 page)

Prescott gave Scott a nice tip on top of his weekly salary and told him to enjoy his weekend. If he needed to go anywhere over the next couple days, he’d call a cab. He went through the lobby doors, let out his cane, and used it to get to the bank of elevators. He’d been living in the luxury oceanfront condominium’s building for seven years, and he knew the layout, but he never knew if some furniture would be moved around or if a display would be set up.

Last thing he wanted to do was run into a brand-new grand piano in the middle of the lobby.
Been there…done that.

He got to his floor, stepped into his apartment, and immediately disarmed the alarm. The spacious twenty-five hundred square-foot condo had a large, state-of-the-art gourmet kitchen, two master bedrooms, and an office. The large living room had been masterfully designed by a decorator, but Pres spent most of his time in the cozy den if he wasn’t in his kitchen. The dining room was not overly spacious, which was fine, because it was rarely used. Pres liked to eat at the large wraparound breakfast bar.

He dropped his briefcase by the table next to the door and whispered into the empty condo, “Honey, I’m home.”
Yeah right.
No one was ever there to greet him when he came home, not a human anyway. Josey would jump up and lick his hands and bark at wanting to go for a walk, but even he was not there tonight. He was at the groomer’s. His assistant would be back with him any minute. Josey accompanied Pres only when he was out and about. He never took him with him to work.

Making his way into his kitchen, Pres could smell the lemon citrus disinfectant the cleaning lady used on his counters. He was sure his condo was spotless. He’d been told that enough times. The maid service he used was wonderful. Not only did they never miss a week or forget to do a task, they also did little things for him to assist with his disability.

His regular cleaner took the initiative to learn how to use his Braille labeler and labeled his groceries when they were delivered. She would put everything away in the places he specified. All the boxes and canned goods in his pantry were organized and labeled as well. She even went as far as labeling his DVDs and CDs.

He went to his wine rack on the wall next to his refrigerator and ran his fingers along the raised Braille labels, wanting a bottle of Merlot. When he selected the one he wanted, he pulled a glass from the cupboard and used his finger to measure his pouring. He put a wine cap on the bottle and tucked it into the crook of his arm to bring with him.
Why keep getting up?

His feet didn’t make a sound on the plush carpet as he walked into his den and dropped down in his brown leather La-Z-Boy, releasing a soft sigh. He should’ve gone to his bedroom to remove his pin-striped Ralph Lauren suit to get more comfortable, but he was feeling a little too lazy for that right now.

Setting his wineglass down, he picked up the cordless phone to call Victoria, wondering what she was up to.

“Hello,” the sweet voice purred into the receiver.

“Hey, babe. How was your day?”

“Oh…hi, Pres. Sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

Someone else, like who?
“Who did you think it was?”

“Never mind. My day was fine. I was actually just getting ready to go to happy hour with a few coworkers, and I’m trying to finish freshening up. Did you need something?” The way she spoke sounded as if he was bothering her with his call.

“Well, honestly. I was thinking maybe you’d like to come over tonight. I haven’t seen you in a couple weeks. I understand that your work keeps you busy and—”

She cut him off. “Work is busy, Pres. I just want to unwind with friends sometimes.”

“So how about coming over after happy hour. It is still an hour, right? I could really use some company.” Pres winced at how desperate he sounded.

Victoria sighed loudly into the receiver. “Sure, Pres, I’ll come over, but I can’t guarantee that I can stay the entire night, okay?”

Pres felt like complete shit. He had a girlfriend but constantly felt lonely. He was starved for affection, for real feelings, for compassion…for love.

“Okay. Yeah…uhhh, I understand, Vikki. Have fun, and I’ll see you later, around…?”

He let his sentence trail off, hoping she’d fill in the time for him. She never responded.

“Do you know what time you’re coming? I can make you a really nice dinner. I know how much you love my lemon-butter langoustine lobster over linguine.” He smiled, remembering how she’d moaned at the succulent flavors of his popular dish.

She let out an exaggerated huff before finally responding, “I don’t know, about ten, I guess.”

Pres’s head snapped back. He felt the hands on his watch.
It’s four thirty. What the hell kind of happy hour lasts until ten? Well, I guess it’s one for dinner again.

“Okay, now bye. You’re gonna make me late,” she said angrily.

“Hey, wait,” he rushed to say before she could hang up, and then lowered his voice seductively. “Tell me what you have on right now.”

His voice went deep while he simultaneously loosened his now too-tight slacks. He palmed his growing erection and moaned shamelessly.

“Do you have on the lacy panties I like, baby?” Pres asked, figuring maybe he could coax her into a little phone play to assist him with some much-needed release. All he needed was for her to say a couple dirty words and he’d blow like a geyser.

“Pres, grow up,” she sneered before disconnecting the call.

What the fuck?

Pres felt like a damn idiot, and what was even worse was he still wanted to ask her to cancel her plans and come to him instead…but he knew that wouldn’t happen. Most of the lights in his condo were on. He always flicked on a few when he came in, but he was in the dark and now on his third glass of Merlot.

Pres picked the cordless back up and called the only person he knew who might be happy to hear from him.

“Hello?” the deep voice answered. “Is this who I think it is? No, It can’t be the gorgeous Prescott Vaughan that stole my heart in college and then hightailed it out of my life with a class-C beauty queen.”

Prescott let out an indignant chuckle. “It’s been too long, Frat.”

“That it has, my friend. So what’s been good with you? I think the last time we talked was at Tom’s bachelor party eight months ago.”

“Yeah, something like that. I’m surprised you remember that night at all.” Prescott laughed again, reflecting back on that crazy night.

“Oh, I remember, love. Do you?” His friend let his voice drop to that husky whisper that always made Pres’s cock take special notice.

Pres was silent. He wouldn’t go there with the tall, handsome blond who was his frat brother and roommate their last two years in college. He’d shown Pres things that should only be done during the hour of the wolf.

“Talk to me, man.”

Pres took in a deep breath. He had no clue what to say.
Why did I call him? So he could listen to me gripe about my lack of a sex life and desperate plea for affection? Right. I called the one man that couldn’t possibly relate. The one man that has no shortage of female or male company.

“I’ll be there in two days.”

“No, wait. Leo. Leo.”

The line disconnected.

Pres couldn’t help but smile. Leo was coming.

Pres didn’t have a regular rotation of visitors. To everyone on the outside looking in, it appeared that Prescott Vaughan had his shit together. He’d opened his own successful business and authored four cookbooks. Two of them he’d had translated into Braille, which won him six different awards and a shitload of recognition. He’d even made several guest appearances on a couple of highly syndicated television shows.

Everyone believed that even though his sight was taken from him, it hadn’t changed him. But it had. He was not the same. He’d lost so much more than just his sight.

Pres didn’t want to think about being lonely anymore. Last night he’d eaten his langoustine lobster alone when his girlfriend never showed up after happy hour. He’d called her a couple times, but it went straight to voice mail.

The next morning he’d done his usual Friday morning workout with his personal trainer and worked on some reviews since he didn’t go into the office. In the afternoon, he did meaningless organization in his kitchen pantry and marinated some pork tenderloin for dinner.

Cooking always made him feel better. He only wished he had someone besides himself to enjoy it too. He’d even gone as far as giving his neighbors Jeff and Cindy a couple dishes, just to hear a few compliments.
How pathetic.

While he waited a few minutes to cook his meat, he sat at the kitchen island and listened to an audiobook his dad had given him. Josey came over and whined at him, laying his heavy head on his knee.

“Sorry, boy. You need to go out, huh?” Pres got up and moved quickly and effortlessly to his bedroom to change into something a little more comfortable. Josey whined some more. “Okay, okay. I’m coming, Josey.”

Pres slid into his Jordan flip-flops and grabbed a plastic doggie-poop bag and the leash from out of his hall closet. He took his keys off the hook, grabbed his long cane, set the alarm, and left his condo. He didn’t need to put Josey’s harness on. They’d walked this path for over three years now, and he knew it well.

As Pres waited for the elevator, he felt a presence next to him. It was a male presence because the scent was spicy with a sweet undertone. Just when Pres prepared to speak, his visitor spoke to him first.

“Hello,” he said in a deep, sultry voice.

“Good evening,” Pres responded.

“Going for a little stroll, huh? He’s a beautiful dog. May I pet him?” asked the good-smelling stranger. His accent was slightly northern but not overly pronounced. Listening to him speak made Pres think about what the man’s mouth might look like. If a person had a strong voice, he immediately pictured a warm, inviting smile covered by full lips.

“Yes, go right ahead. He’s very spoiled. Any attention he can get, he’s more than willing to take.” Pres lifted Josey’s leash, making him rise up off his belly.

“Awww. So handsome. You’re a good boy, aren’t you? Yes, I can tell you’re a good boy,” the stranger crooned to his dog.

Pres could hear the man ruffling Josey’s scruff underneath his collar as he scratched him.

“So do you live on this floor?” Pres figured he’d spark a little conversation since the elevator was taking forever.

“Yep. Actually, just a few doors down from you,” he replied happily.

“You know where I live? Well, now I have to kill ya,” Pres joked, hoping his neighbor had a sense of humor, which he did because he heard him let out a genuinely deep laugh.

With a laugh like that, he definitely has a nice smile.

“Funny guy, huh? My name is Rickson Edwards, but everyone calls me Ric. I’m sorry I haven’t introduced myself sooner, but I’m fairly new to the building, and every time I see you, you’re either just getting on or off of the elevator.”

He felt Ric take his hand that wasn’t holding Josey’s leash and slide his into it during his introduction.
Damn, he has a strong handshake.

Pres returned the firm grip. “I’m Prescott Vaughan. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Edwards.”

“How respectful of you, but there is no Mr. Edwards, just Ric…Mr. Vaughan.”

Pres mocked him right back. “How respectful of you, but Mr. Vaughan lives in Richmond with my mother, just Prescott, or Pres, if you like.”

“I do like…I mean the name. I like your name,” Ric stammered.

Pres smiled as he imagined a slight blush creeping up on the man’s face.

At its arrival, they both stepped into the elevator, leaving the introduction awkwardness in the hallway. Neither said another word. There was only the humming of the elevator gears as it descended its way to the lobby.

Pres was overly aware of Ric’s gaze on him, and it made him smile.

“Why are you smiling?” his neighbor asked.

“Why are you staring at me?” Pres retorted.

“Because you’re—” He stopped quickly.

“Because I’m what?” Pres questioned, wondering why Ric didn’t finish his sentence.

“Nothing. Didn’t mean to stare, and I’m not even going to ask how you knew that I was, either.” He laughed.

“It’s within my power,” Pres joked back.

Pres found himself trying to imagine what Ric’s face looked like. If the appearance matched the voice and humor, then he probably had light brown hair and light green or hazel eyes. His cheekbones could probably make a woman envious, and he didn’t breathe heavily, so Pres assumed he didn’t have any weight issues. His voice came from slightly above Pres when he spoke, so the man was taller than him, making Ric probably six foot two or three. Being closed in the small compartment had Pres’s sensitive nose filled with Ric’s unique scent. It had him feeling dizzy and a little disoriented. That spicy, sweet combination was like nothing he’d ever smelled before. He liked it…a lot.

That thought did not freak out Pres at all, and liking the man’s smell was an interesting feeling for him. He wasn’t squeamish that a man had given him such a sensual reaction. If he was going to be totally honest with himself, everything he did when he was in his fraternity didn’t scream hetero from the word go, but that was over twelve years ago. Pres had not met a man he was attracted to since…until now.

The elevator doors opened, and Pres extended his hand, telling Ric to go ahead and exit first.

“Thank you, Pres.”

“You’re welcome. It was nice meeting you, Ric. Have a good evening.”

“Likewise,” Ric said.

Pres walked through the lobby having a nagging urge to turn around and look back. But that was fucking pointless…right?

Chef Prescott Vaughan.
Holy hell, the guy was fucking stunning.
The pictures of him in the food magazines did not do him justice. Ric didn’t think he’d ever met anyone that beautiful in his life. The man looked casually comfortable in his worn blue jeans and light blue North Carolina Tar Heels T-shirt. His Jordan flip-flops showed his manicured feet. Ric found himself enticingly wondering how groomed the man was everywhere.

He’d seen Pres leaving and entering his stylish black town car on more than one occasion. He didn’t know if the man had a girlfriend or not, but he knew he wasn’t married because he lacked a band on his finger. Ric would be sitting in the bar off the lobby and notice him come into the building solo, oftentimes looking slightly melancholy, and he wished he could put a smile on that beautiful face.

It didn’t matter to him that Pres was blind. Hell, he’d dated a deaf guy for almost eight months during his residency until the asshole cheated on him. It really caught Ric off guard, too. He didn’t know why he thought a deaf person wouldn’t be unfaithful. The more that he thought about that, the more stupid he felt.

There is no way that Prescott is gay anyway.
Ric put his duffel bag over his right shoulder and started his two-mile walk to the hospital, putting Mr. Vaughan to the back of his mind.

* * * *

“Dr. Edwards, the patient in exam room three is ready for discharge, so can I get your signature on the release forms and his scripts, please?”

“Sure, Maggie.” Ric pulled his pen from his white lab coat and scribbled an illegible signature on the forms, then wrote the patient’s prescriptions for pain medicine and an anti-inflammatory. He watched the petite nurse saunter off, then turn and look over her shoulder seductively. Ric turned quickly toward the doctors’ lounge, avoiding more eye contact. He hated when the nurses flirted with him, which was all the damn time.

No one at this hospital knew he was gay. He’d transferred to Chesapeake General Hospital after a nasty allegation was made that he’d exhibited inappropriate behavior with a male nurse. As soon as Ric had come out at his other job—after getting tired of turning down advances from the female nurses, doctors, and even paramedics—his character was immediately attacked. A couple of vindictive nurses had gone to human resources saying they saw Ric touching himself while watching a male nurse perform his duties—which was complete bullshit.

Ric had thought the staff at Beach Leigh Memorial were his friends. He’d been there for over six years after he’d graduated and done his internship and residency. Ric’s primary focus for the last ten years had been school and becoming a doctor. He’d had a few lovers, but nothing he’d call a serious relationship. The few friends he’d had in undergrad school were no longer around, having moved on with their careers. During his last year of med school, he didn’t have time to hang out and meet people, so then he had no friends, or family, for that matter. His parents died in a car accident a couple years ago, and his one and only sibling didn’t want anything to do with his older, faggot brother. So the hospital staff had become his friends and family…or so he thought. He was invited to parties and family functions all the time, but when he told them of his sexual preference, he was outcast. Only a select few still spoke to him.

Now he was in a new city and at a new hospital starting all over again. One thing was for sure. He’d have no choice but to put up with the women’s advances, because he wasn’t coming out again.

Ric sat in the doctors’ lounge reading this month’s
Journal of Modern Medicine
waiting on his shift to end. He saw Nurse Sheila come into the lounge and pour herself a cup of coffee. He tried to appear overly engrossed in the magazine, hoping to discourage her from wanting to interrupt him.
No such luck.

“Dr. Edwards, a few of us are going to a new bar that just opened next Friday after second shift gets off. Think you’d want to go?” She looked at him expectantly.

Here we go.

“I’m sorry, Sheila, but I’m already involved with someone,” he lied. Ric tried not to look at her with annoyance at being asked out, when he heard her crack up with laughter.

“Ummm, conceited much, Dr. E?” She gave him a teasing look. “I’m glad you’re involved with someone. So am I. About fifteen of us are going to this new bar next week, and anyone who wants to come is invited. My boyfriend says that he wants to go, but he doesn’t want to be the only man there. So I’m asking a few doctors to come along. Also, some of the staff from the second floor are coming too…should be fun.” She grinned from ear to ear. Probably because Ric’s face was burning hot from embarrassment.

He didn’t have plans for next weekend, of course. He was going to work out in his building’s gym and catch up on his DVR recordings.
Fun times.
Maybe he’d see Prescott in the workout room with his personal trainer again.

“Sorry, Sheila. I guess that was pretty presumptuous of me. What time are you guys going?” Ric tried to recover.

“It’s cool, Dr. E. I understand how you could’ve thought I was putting the moves on you. Lord knows a lot of the women around here talk about wanting you.” She smirked. “But trust me when I say I am happy with my boyfriend.” She looked at her watch. “Well, my break is over. We’ll be there about nine o’clock next Friday night. Hope to see you there. Oh yeah, and bring your girlfriend. I’d love to meet her,” she said and bounced out of the lounge.

Good luck with meeting someone that doesn’t exist.

Ric changed out of his lab coat and scrubs and put on black slacks and a collared shirt. He rolled the sleeves up and unfastened the top two buttons, not wanting to appear too dressy.

On his way down the hall to the parking lot, he saw that several nurses were in the nurses’ station having a little powwow with Sheila. He silently prayed that she wasn’t telling them about his embarrassing assumption.

“Good night, ladies,” he said in his deep and calm voice.

“Good night, Doctor,” they said almost in unison, some of them flashing him a hint of lust in their eyes.

He just smiled and waved as the emergency room doors opened to the damp night air. It was Virginia Beach in May, and the weather was unseasonably warm and—you know what, forget that. It was fucking hot. It was so humid and sticky that it made him want to jump in the nearest pool and cool his sweaty skin. Ric preferred the fall over any season—cool, brisk breezes, cashmere sweaters, soft butter-leather jackets, and sweat suits.

On his way home, Ric grabbed a bottle of Merlot at the grocery store around the corner from his building in preparation for a long weekend of solitude.
Maybe I should go out next week. This staff could be different. I just won’t be feeling up any guys on the dance floor…yet.