Cherry Pie by Samantha Kane Page A

in the mood for, chances are I’m not going to protest.” Conn’s heart was pounding, and he was trying hard not to show it. John may say he didn’t want more than this, but he was pretty unselfish in bed for a guy who was in it just for a fuck.
    Conn’s comment took the wind out of John’s sails. “Oh,” he said. He tugged his finger out of Conn’s grip and looked down. “Maybe you should take care of that?”
    Conn followed his gaze to the condom barely clinging to his now limp dick. He laughed. “Yeah, I guess I should.” He carefully climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom.
    When he got back, John was sitting on the edge of the bed in his pink shirt and underwear holding his guitar. “Here,” he said, holding it out. His voice sounded funny, and Conn took the offering cautiously. He strummed his fingers down the strings. It was badly out of tune.
    “Why are you giving me your guitar?” he asked without looking at John.
    “It’s not mine.”
    Conn placed his hand against the strings to silence them. He looked up at John. “Whose is it?” he asked, but he already knew.
    “Steve’s.”
    Conn wasn’t sure what to make of that. “Do you play?”
    “No.” It was never good when John started sounding like him. He was looking at the paint cans in the corner instead of Conn.
    “Then why did he give it to you?”
    John stared at his hands in his lap. He was rubbing one thumb over the other. “He didn’t.” He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Well, he did. I got all of his things.”
    Conn held the guitar out. “I don’t want to take his things, John.”
    John gave him an assessing look. “Why? No one else is using it, or will, if you don’t. I figure it’s better if you play it than give it to some stranger.”
    Conn couldn’t fight that logic. “Did he play well?”
    John snorted. “Not at all. It was the one thing he tried that he couldn’t do well. And he really tried. It pissed him off no end.”
    Conn nodded. “All right, then. Thanks.”
    John got up. “I’m going to go shower. I’ll see you downstairs.”
    He walked off before Conn could kiss him good morning.
     
    “Jesus H. Fucking Christ, this place is Mayberry Hell.”
    John spun around at the feminine voice dripping with disgust coming through the back screen door. The refrigerator door bounced open hard behind him, rattling the bottles within. “Kristine!”
    Steve’s younger sister opened the door and glared at him. “Why is your door unlocked? Are you crazy? Anyone could come in here!”
    John was so discombobulated by her arrival he couldn’t process what she meant. Then he laughed. “I’ve been in Mercury so long I forgot what it’s like to live in LA.”
    Kristine walked over and gave him a big hug. He hugged her back. She’d been a good friend over the years. There were times, when Steve was overseas, that John had felt closer to Kristine than Steve. She had on LA casual: skintight jeans, mile-high heels, and a tiny designer T-shirt. She carried a suitcase that was masquerading as a purse, and it banged into John’s side when she hugged him.
    “Come on,” she said. She pulled back and grabbed his shoulders with both hands, looking him sternly in the eye. “Go pack. Enough is enough. No human being can survive here for long. I have scientific proof.”
    John laughed. “I’m doing more than surviving. I like it here.” He was shocked at the admission. He did like it in Mercury. What had once been an exile was now a refuge. He frowned. Was it because of Conn? Or because of this house and the people he’d met? Or both?
    “You don’t look like it,” Kristine said flatly. She looked around the kitchen. “Haven’t had time to decorate yet, I see.”
    John sighed. “Actually, I have. This is all my stuff. My new stuff.”
    “Are you shitting me?” Kristine exclaimed in horror. “You’re worse off than I thought.”
    Suddenly the shower went off upstairs. It had been going unnoticed in the