Outstanding Praise for the Novels of Timothy James Beck!
SOMEONE LIKE YOU
“Beck’s latest crowd-pleasing gay romance resonates with warm fuzzies.”
—Booklist
“Witty dialogue and one-liners.”
—Envy Man magazine
“Beck resolves all the plot lines nicely and makes you want to max out your credit cards on some major retail therapy.”
—We the People
I’M YOUR MAN
“Beck brings a charmingly light touch to life-changing drama in his latest laugh-out-loud romance.”
—Booklist
HE’S THE ONE
“This second madcap Manhattan romance from Beck has sexy boys, mild comedy, and even a little amateur sleuthing. Beck seems to have found his calling serving up featherweight fun.”
—Publishers Weekly
“A delightful sophomore novel…smart and breezy.”
—Outsmart (Houston, Texas)
“He’s the One stands out for good writing and a fairly inventive plot. This book is a good, quick read, just what everyone needs in the summer. You can enjoy it during an afternoon by the pool or an evening when you don’t want to go out or watch TV. Pick it up and see if you don’t agree.”
—The Bottom Line (Palm Springs)
IT HAD TO BE YOU
“Might there actually, or finally, be a market for some good gay fluff? If there is, then Timothy James Beck has his finger on the pulse of that change. If you are looking for an easily accessible feel-good read, this is a prime candidate.”
—The Lambda Book Report
“An entertaining read…genuinely both funny and poignant. It Had to Be You flows very well and is hugely enjoyable. If Timothy James Beck sticks with these characters, then he may have a series of homebound stories to rival those of Armistead Maupin.”
—Gay Times
Books by Timothy James Beck
IT HAD TO BE YOU
HE’S THE ONE
I’M YOUR MAN
SOMEONE LIKE YOU
WHEN YOU DON’T SEE ME
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
When You Don’t See Me
TIMOTHY JAMES BECK
KENSINGTON BOOKS
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
Acknowledgments
Thank you, John Scognamiglio, Alison Picard, Tom Wocken, Dorothy Cochrane, Lynne Demarest, Timothy Forry, Greg Herren, Rhonda Rubin, Lindsey Smolensky, and Bill Thomas.
And as always: Alan, Amy and Richard, April and Nick, Carissa, Caroline, Christine and John, Cullen, David, Dean, Denece, Don, Gary, Gene, Helen, Jason and Jeff, Jess and Laura, Jonathan, Larry, Laurie and Marty, Lisa K., Lisa S., Lori and Bob, Marika, Mark, Marla, Michael, Nathan, Nora, Paul E., Rob, Robin, Ron, Sarena, Shannon, Shanon, Sheila, Steve C., Steve V., Steve and Doug, Terry and Allen, Trish, the Carter, Cochrane, Lambert, Rambo, Rose, and Wocken families, Charlie the Unicorn, AOL and LiveJournal friends, fellow bloggers, Yahoo reading groups, Tim Brookover and OutSmart, and Paul J. Willis and the Saints and Sinners Literary Festival.
A special thanks to the readers who wrote letters and e-mails and who reviewed and recommended the novels.
Inspiration: Pet Shop Boys and Sisters of Mercy.
Relaxation: Brandi, Guinness, Hailey, Lazlo, Margot, and Rex.
Contents
AFTER
1.New York City Boy
2.A Man Could Get Arrested
3.The Sodom and Gomorrah Show
4.Nervously
5.It Always Comes As a Surprise
6.Opportunities (Let’s Make Lots of Money)
7.Do I Have To?
8.Bet She’s Not Your Girlfriend
9.Only the Wind
10.Young Offender
11.It Couldn’t Happen Here
12.Tonight Is Forever
13.We All Feel Better in the Dark
14.My October Symphony
15.It’s a Sin
16.Happiness Is an Option
17.A New Life
18.Here
AFTER
take cold steel
make music
use wet ashes for ink
blend fire and smoke
into paint
make number-numbed art
without sense
without reason
express the depths
of holes unfilled
of hearts too still
too soon
1
New York City Boy
I ducked beneath a diner’s awning and decided that the city had finally made me her bitch. The freezing rain on an already-frigid February day made me want to lie down in the middle of Madison Avenue and wait for a bus to finish me off. Worse, I was getting a cold. My sinuses were killing me. My throat was starting to feel scratchy. I spat a glob of phlegm on the slushy sidewalk. A woman next to me cringed and ran to the next awning down, freeing space for a guy with dreadlocks and an Army coat.
The shitty weather forced us to stop pretending we were all invisible. Until the weather cleared, we had to deal with each other’s presence. There were about fifteen of us crowded under the awning. When someone new arrived, we’d shiver and nod, but nobody said anything.
I peered through the diner’s window. It was packed. If someone left the counter, I’d buy a cup of coffee. If I had money.
While I counted the change in my pocket, a guy ran across the street, shielding his head with a newspaper. He bumped into me, rendering me visible, and I dropped two quarters.
“Hey!”
“Sorry,” he said, wiping flecks of ice from his glasses.
“Fucker,” I grumbled. I grabbed my quarters from an old man who’d picked them up. “Give me those. They’re mine.”
“Just trying to help.”
“He was just helping,” a woman said.
Suddenly everyone began talking about me like I wasn’t there. It felt good to bring strangers together. Another man ran across the street to join us and started a heated conversation with Newspaper Head. I pocketed my change and pretended to consult a bus schedule that I already knew by heart. I glanced at the two men as casually as possible. Pointless, considering that everyone around us was blatantly staring at their performance.
Newspaper Head’s friend was in that vague age range that could be late twenties or early thirties. He was blond and wore Diesel