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Before visiting Charles’s house, Gene hadn’t known it was possible to live in Los Angeles and have such a nice backyard. It was large enough to have a patio with two gliders and several chairs, where guests could sit and admire the mountains and the lights of the city below.
The gliders, each big enough for two people, were positioned across a small table from each other. Brett and Charles lounged on one of them, grazing on what was left of the cake Charles had ordered from a local bakery and sipping what was left of the last bottle of wine they’d opened.
Gene gazed up at the stars, the glider swaying as he shifted his weight. The crisp canyon air would’ve made him shiver had it not been for the wine warming him up from within. And it certainly didn’t hurt that he had Richard draped across his lap.
He’d been delighted when Charles let him bring Richard with him. Despite being a regular panelist, Richard never ended up on the guest list for these after-taping parties. To convince Charles to let him invite Richard, even as a plus one, Gene had to promise that he’d take Richard home if his mood turned sour. Charles cared deeply about keeping his gatherings lighthearted and fun.
Thankfully, Richard had made it through the entire evening without throwing a hissy fit, or even so much as pouting. By one in the morning, Gene, Richard, and Brett were the only guests remaining in Charles’s backyard. Even though they’d been among friends all along, only then did Gene and Richard feel comfortable being in each other’s arms. After all, Brett and Charles already knew what was going on between them—and they had known for quite some time.
“Gene, have another slice of cake,” Charles said. “I don’t want to have to put any of it in my fridge after you all leave.”
Gene was tempted. It was a chocolate cake, very rich and decadent. He’d already had one slice. It paired perfectly with the red wine. He glanced down at his middle, and at the trim, fit man lying in his lap. He waved his hand dismissively and shook his head. “No, thank you. I’ve had plenty.”
Charles shrugged and took the last slice for himself instead. “Suit yourself.”
Brett rested her head on Charles’s shoulder, and Charles softly kissed the crown of her head before digging into his slice of cake. She set down her glass of wine on the table in front of her before gesturing toward Gene and Richard. “How did you two get together?” she asked. “I mean, how did you even know you liked each other that way? It’s not like guys can just go around flirting with each other.” She laughed.
“Sure we can, and we do,” Richard cut in, shifting in Gene’s lap. “That’s the magic of show business. We can kiss each other right on the lips, in full view of the audience and Mark Goodson and God and everyone, and no one questions it.”
“You know, I guess that is how it all started—we started kissing, just for fun,” Gene said. It was funny, how they’d kissed, multiple times, before ever admitting they were attracted to each other.
Brett leaned in, elbows on her knees. “Do you remember the first time? Or has it happened so many times that you just forgot?”
Gene smiled at the memory. “Yeah. I kissed Jo Ann, and then I kissed Peggy, and then, well, I kissed Richard.” He shrugged. “It was just a spontaneous thing.”
Richard rolled his eyes and laughed. “That wasn’t the first time, and you know it.”
Gene racked his brain for an occurrence prior to that. He was pretty drunk—and tired—so, maybe there was an incident he was forgetting. After a few moments of contemplation, he concluded that there couldn’t be. That moment was seared into his mind. “I can’t think of another,” he said with a shrug. “You must be mistaken.”
“Well, that was the first time your lips touched mine,” Richard conceded, “but you know it doesn’t count if it happens on camera.”
Gene’s back stiffened. “What? That’s ridiculous!”
“If it’s on camera, it’s just acting.”
“It’s not acting if it’s not scripted.”
Richard crossed his arms and sat up slightly, pressing his back against the arm of the glider. “You know perfectly well that isn’t true. Aren’t you acting every time you pretend to be interested in some contestant’s life story?”
“You just can’t bear to admit that I started it!” Gene shouted.
Richard took a breath as if to continue the argument, but he released it, laughing softly. “Well, anyway, that kiss was my idea. Brett, you were there. Remember?”
“What?” Brett’s eyelids fluttered; she straightened her shoulders.
“You were there that day, when Gene and I kissed for the first time. I don’t think Charles was, but you were. This tall, handsome guy had just won the five thousand, and he ran right over and kissed Jo Ann Pflug. Then Gene kissed her too, and that’s when I got the idea to kiss him. I even got Jo Ann in on it—we both pulled on his mic cord until he had to come over to me. I looked up at him, and he grabbed my face and kissed me.” Richard reached up and traced a finger along Gene’s jaw. “Even if you weren’t acting, it still didn’t count. You almost missed my mouth entirely.”
It was true—the kiss was so spontaneous that Gene couldn’t decide whether to plant it on Richard’s cheek or his lips, and he ended up kissing the corner of his mouth. Which was still exceptionally, sumptuously soft.
Unlike that last slice of chocolate cake Charles had offered him, Gene hadn’t been able to resist Richard: the dangerous glimmer in his eyes, the seductive curve of his mouth. The thick mustache decorating his upper lip served as the final temptation—icing on the cake. He didn’t stand a chance.
Charles draped one long arm around Brett’s shoulders and pulled her close. He raised an eyebrow. “So, Richard, if that wasn’t your first real kiss, then what was?”
Richard pressed a hand to Gene’s chest and grinned. “You remember, don’t you, Gene? When you invited me back to your motel room for a nightcap, and we sat on the bed and—”
“Okay, okay, yes, and then you kissed me,” Gene interrupted, preventing Richard from saying any more about what happened that night. He could feel his skin flushing from more than just the wine.
“And you kissed me back,” Richard said with a grin. Fortunately, he stopped there.
Brett crossed her arms, pouting. “Gene, why don’t I ever get invited back to your room for a nightcap?”
“Because he’s too busy having nightcaps with Richard, apparently.” Charles rolled his eyes.
Brett arched her back and stretched her arms as she yawned, nearly smacking Charles in the face in the process. “I’m not too sleepy to wait around, honey,” she said. Her mid-sentence yawn undercut her statement’s potency. “You can call me up whenever Richard’s finished with you.”
Gene’s eyes darted to Richard’s face. His smug expression seemed to say, I’ll never be finished with you.
“Come on, Susan,” Charles said, elbowing Brett as he stood up. “Help me pick the next bottle of wine.” Arm in arm, they walked through the sliding doors and into the house.
Richard sat up swiftly, as though he’d been waiting for this moment, and laced his fingers behind Gene’s neck. “All that talk of kissing…” he drawled, leaning in.
Just as he had that first time, Gene cupped Richard’s jaw in his hand, accepting the unspoken invitation to kiss his warm, soft lips.