Breaking The Habit

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Breaking the Habit

ISBN # 978-1-78651-585-8

©Copyright J.P. Bowie 2017

Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright July 2017

Edited by Sue Meadows

Pride Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Pride Publishing.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Pride Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

Published in 2017 by Pride Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, UK

Pride Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

BREAKING THE HABIT

J.P. Bowie

A gambling addiction isn’t bad enough? Throw in a not-so-sudden interest in guys and Mike Peterson’s life is about to get really complicated!

Mike Peterson is determined to break the gambling habit that resulted in two failed marriages, no money, no job, plus almost getting himself and his brother killed when loan sharks came looking for the money he’d borrowed.

In addition, he’s recently been having some doubts about his own sexuality. When his gay brother suggests he get in touch with an old friend, recently out police officer Larry Bertoni, Mike is at first leery of the idea, and their first meeting isn’t exactly ideal.

They decide to meet again and this time more of what they are and what they could mean to one another is revealed during their time together. They begin a tentative friendship that graduates to a first, fumbling attempt at romance.

Can they find the secure relationship they both want, or will Mike’s addiction and lack of self-esteem hinder what could possibly be salvation for both men?

Dedication

My thanks once again to everyone at Pride Publishing for their fabulous support, especially Sue Meadows, Editor Extrordinaire! Hope you enjoy this sequel to Fear and Loving in Las Vegas as Mike, the errant brother I grew fond of while writing this story, gets a real chance at love.

Something we all need in these days of chaos and assault on our civil liberties.

And to my hubby, Phil…love you with all my heart.

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Audi: Volkswagen AG

Dockers: Levi Strauss & Co.

Pepsodent: Church & Dwight Co, Inc.

YouTube: You Tube, LLC

Lycra: Invista, Koch Industries

iPhone: Apple, Inc.

Dewar’s: Bacardi Limited

Heineken: Heineken N.V.

Applebee’s: Applebee’s International, Inc.

T.G.I. Friday’s: Sentinel Capital Partners and TriArtisan Capital Partners

Visa: Visa Inc.

Stella: Interbrew International B.V., subsidiary of Anheuser-Busch InBev

Harley: Harley-Davidson, Inc.

McDonald’s: McDonald’s

Pier 1: Pier 1 Imports Inc.

LA Times: Tronc, Inc.

Gamblers Anonymous: Gamblers Anonymous

LA Philharmonic: Los Angeles Philharmonic Association

Beethoven’s Fifth: Ludwig van Beethoven

Chapter One

I couldn’t believe I was actually doing this. I mean, when my brother Jerry told me I should contact Larry Bertoni, our sister’s ex-boyfriend, I was, in a word, flabbergasted. Seems Larry had admitted to Jerry he was going through some kind of sexual identity crisis, and Jerry had latched on to that fact as quick as he could when I just happened to mention my own recent questioning. Well, not so recent when I thought about it—but I better back up some and let you in on what had been happening in my life—and as it turned out, Jerry and his new boyfriend Taylor’s lives, also.

I had a problem. Truth be told, I still have the problem. When you’re an addict of any kind—booze, drugs or in my case, gambling—it’s not something you can be cured of overnight. It can take months, years, a lifetime in some cases, and for many people there is no cure. You’re not termed a cured addict, you’re a recovering addict, and I guess I’m still recovering. My brother, all of my family really, has been very supportive of my trying to beat this craving for the green baize, for the dice and cards that tumble or slide so mesmerizingly across those smooth surfaces. But I can’t let myself dwell too long on those images. They’re too tantalizing, almost sexual in their allure for someone like me.

Anyway, I managed to get myself even deeper into the problem a few weeks ago when I fell foul of some loan sharks from whom I had, like a fool, borrowed a rather large sum of money. A hundred grand in total. Not all in one lump sum, but these smaller loans have a nasty habit of becoming more than a person can pay back—and as I found out, payback can be a bitch.

Jerry had helped me out on a few occasions, or as he would no doubt tell you, many occasions. Jerry had, true to form, ranted and raved at me, calling me weak, irresponsible, a danger to our mother’s health—that’s a crock of course, our mother’s as healthy as a horse—all things that under normal circumstances I would have considered hurtful. However, at the time he was raging at me over the phone, I was being held, tied to a chair in a sleazy Vegas hotel room, by a pair of enormous thugs who I was convinced were going to ‘off’ me at any moment. So Jerry’s recriminations were not only hurtful, but also untimely, especially as I was terrified to the very soles of my feet.

Fortunately for me, a good Samaritan, on whom I had earlier unloaded my tale of woe, had contacted Jerry and persuaded him to come to Vegas to help me out of this predicament. Taylor, that’s the Samaritan’s name, and my brother immediately hit it off, and hit on each other, but despite those distractions of the flesh, managed to get me out of trouble, home free, almost without a scratch. That can’t be said for the thugs and the guys they worked for. They all ended up either dead or in jail, where they belong.

During the process of rescuing me, Jerry called our sister’s ex-boyfriend, Larry Bertoni, an LAPD cop, and asked if he could keep an eye on Taylor’s apartment in case the thugs, who were still alive at that point, might come a’callin’ looking for a little payback from Taylor. Larry surprised Jerry, in the course of their conversation, by telling him he had been batting for Jerry’s team, or at least was interested in the possibility he might be swayed over to the gay side.

Color me surprised, very surprised, when Jerry told me this tale. Larry was at least six-four, all muscles, and had a jaw that could take punches from Ali and Mayweather together and still come up smiling. No way could this man have been gay or even bisexual, I thought, but then I had to reflect on this some more, because…well, I’ve been married twice, no kids, both marriages were fairly short-lived and, when I’m in my honest mode, really not that satisfactory. You know, on the intimate level. And not just the sex, but the out of bed stuff too, like conversation, having fun together, visiting friends. Well, that might be difficult as I have a habit of losing friends almost as quickly as I lose my wives.

Apart from Jerry, there was no other guy I could open up to, rely on, feel at ease with. Even though I know he thought me a total pain in the ass, a screw-up who used him to welch off, only coming around when I needed something, mostly money, he only occasionally railed at me and he never sold me out to our mother.

I’ve always admired Jerry for being so open about who he is, and I’ve envied the easy camaraderie he has with people, both friends and work colleagues. I guess it was watching the developing relationship between him and Taylor that made me finally realize just what it was I was missing in my life—a friend, someone to love and who would love me back. Not necessarily a sexual relationship, although that would’ve been nice, too, but just someone I could talk to, listen to, and feel comfortable with.

Which brings me back to what I couldn’t believe I was doing. Jerry had wheedled out of me the fact that in high school I’d had a boy crush on Bobby Wilson, captain of the wrestling team. Then I had to go and admit that through the years, I’d found some guys kind of attractive. Never did anything about it, of course, I’d hastily added. Jerry couldn’t for a minute hide the fact he found all this intriguing. He suggested I give Larry a call and maybe we could be supportive of one another. So, against my better judgment, I’d called Larry. He had sounded really pleased to hear from me, or like he’d said, someone from the ‘old days’. Old days—he’d dated Linda a year and a half ago. Never mind. His gruff, so butch voice, relaxed me and made me think this would just be two guys getting together for a drink and a laugh or two. No complications whatsoever.

* * * *

Larry had suggested we meet at Sykes, a bar on Melrose. A ‘mixed crowd’ he’d called the patrons, and I of course, assumed he meant men and women. After I’d found somewhere to park my Audi and gritted my teeth at the exorbitant parking fee, I made my way along the sidewalk to Sykes. I couldn’t help but notice the number of young men and some women walking hand-in-hand, seemingly without a care in the world. Happy in the liberal attitude of West Hollywood. My brother lives in Hillcrest, the ‘boys town’ of San Diego, so I’m not exactly unused to this, but I live in a more restrained part of San Diego where guys wouldn’t exactly be in danger of being stoned for holding hands, but you don’t see a lot of that kind of outward affection.

The sounds of chatter, laughter and music told me I was nearing Sykes. I braced myself to meet Larry for the first time since he’d broken up with my sister, and I paused at the entrance thinking, This is weird, isn’t it? The guy dated my sister and now I’m meeting him for a drink to talk about…what exactly? Had I even liked Larry on the few occasions we’d met? Well, this was a helluva time to be mulling over the likes of that.

Larry was standing at the bar. You really couldn’t miss him. He was a