Read Something Blue for Free Online

fact that Marcus garnered blow jobs from a girl like Stacy made him rise even more notches in my book of judgments.
    And the more Dex and I hung out with Marcus, the more I liked him. But I still didn’t think of him as anything other than Dexter’s friend and a groomsman in our wedding until a few months later, the night of Rachel’s thirtieth birthday, when I threw a surprise party for her at Prohibition, our favorite bar on the Upper West Side. I remember sometime that evening sidling up to Marcus and telling him that he may have been the party boy back in college, but that I could drink him under the table now.
    He smirked and slapped the bar and said, “Oh, yeah? Bring it, big talker.”
    We proceeded to do Jagermeister shots. It was quite a bonding experience, not only because we were drinking together but because we hid the shots from Dex, who hates it when I get wasted. It’s unbecoming. It’s immature. It’s unhealthy. It’s dangerous, he would lecture. Not that it ever stopped me, especially not on that night. At one point, before our final round of shots, Dex found us at the bar and looked at me suspiciously. “Are you doing shots?” he asked, glancing at the empty shot glasses on the bar in front of us.
    “That wasn’t mine,” I said. “Those were Marcus’s. He did two.”
    “Yeah, man. Those were mine,” Marcus said, twinkly eyed.
    As Dex walked away, with raised eyebrows, Marcus winked at me. I laughed. “He can be so uptight. Thanks for the cover.”
    “No problem,” Marcus said.
    As of that moment, we had a secret, and having a secret—even a little one—creates a bond between two people. I remember thinking to myself how much more fun he was than Dex, who never lost control. On top of the fun factor, Marcus was looking hot that evening. He was wearing a navy polo shirt—nothing special—but for once it wasn’t totally baggy so I could tell he had a pretty nice body. As I sipped a martini, I asked him if he worked out, which is a flirtatious question at best, downright cheesy at worst, but I didn’t care. I wanted to go there.
    “Once or twice,” he said.
    “C’mon. You have a great body. Do you lift? Run?”
    He said only if he’s being chased. He then proceeded to tell me that he had gone running with a girl the other day, despite his better judgment. “I never should have gone,” he said, rubbing his thighs. “I’m still paying for it. And the date went nowhere.”
    “Was this with Stacy?”
    “Who?”
    “Stacy. You know, the redhead that you brought to Aureole?”
    “Oh! That Stacy. Ancient history.”
    “Good,” I said. “I wasn’t a big fan. She was a bore.”
    Marcus laughed. “She wasn’t your brightest bulb.”
    “So then, who was your jogger girl?” I asked.
    “Just this chick.”
    “Does this chick have a name?”
    “Let’s call her Wanda.”
    “Okay. Wanda… So did Wanda give you blow jobs as good as Stacy’s?” I asked, proud of my outrageousness.
    He smirked, poised for a comeback, but at this point, Dex and Rachel both joined us and I never got my answer, only a sexy little wink. I remember thinking that I wished I could show him my talents in that arena. Not that I really wanted to go down on a groomsman in my wedding party—it was just one of those fleeting thoughts of alcohol-induced attraction.
    Sometime after that, my memories of the night end, except for a vague recollection of Dex ushering me out of the bar and an even vaguer memory of puking in a paper bag beside our bed.

    I didn’t think of Marcus for a couple of days after that, until he called to talk to Dex. I told him Dex was still at work, feeling happy for the opportunity to talk to Marcus.
    “He works too much,” Marcus said.
    “Tell me about it… So how’s it going? What’s new? Think you stayed out late enough the other night?” I asked. After taking me home, Dex had gone back out with Marcus and they had ended up staying out that night until nearly seven in the