Play Chopin for Me

By Max Vos

After a devastating fire, Dale Lusk shows up at his sister’s door in nothing but his boxers and a raincoat, desperately needing her help. Losing both his restaurant and home has left Dale without direction or a place to live.
While pushing her handsome brother into a new wardrobe to match his model looks, Chrissie introduces Dale to Al Borkowski. Al is in desperate need of a roommate before his grandmother takes more control of his life.
Little did Chrissie know when she pushed the two men together the sparks that would fly and the changes that would happen in all of their lives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Max Vos
• Release date: May 13, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370668953

Max Vos

Max Vos is the bestselling author of My Hero. He is loved by his readers for his ‘inappropriate’ side, bringing hot and steamy sex to his writing. Not hemmed in by a single genre Max has the ability to woo you with sweet romance, move you with the power of his words and make you question your definition of love. Having retired in 2011 after more than 30 years as a chef, Max turned his creativity to writing. You can always find wonderful Southern charm, well rounded and vibrant characters with a good meaty story line in a Max Vos book. Each book will give you something new and amazing to love.

Book preview

Chapter One

Dale knocked on his little sister’s door and waited. He knocked again, resting his forehead against the door. When she didn’t answer, he pounded on it, more out of frustration than anything else. When Chrissie suddenly opened the door, he fell forward, almost knocking his sibling over.

What the fuck, Dale? she asked as she regained her balance. Do you know what time it is?

Actually, no, I don’t. Dale pushed the door closed behind him.

What are you wearing? Chrissie looked at her brother out of one eye while rubbing the other with the heel of her hand. And you still haven’t said what the hell you’re doing here.

It’s gone. Everything. Dale looked at his sister. Her hair was all over the place, mascara smudged, giving her the appearance of a raccoon. What happened to you?

Chrissie turned her back to her brother, walking towards the kitchen. I need coffee.

Dale followed her. I need a stiff drink.

You going to tell me what you’re doing here? She started filling the coffee pot with water. What is gone?

Dale covered his face with his hands and groaned. Everything. The restaurant, my apartments, everything.

Chrissie turned to look at her brother, the coffee pot still in her hand, water running over the top. "Explain what you mean by gone?"

Gone. Fire, Dale groaned. There’s nothing left.

Chrissie stood there, her mouth open. What? She set the glass carafe down after turning off the water. Everything?

Total loss. Dale looked at Chrissie. That’s what the Fire Chief said. They consider it a total loss.

But… how?

Not sure what started it yet. They’re still investigating. Dale closed his eyes. What am I going to do?

Chrissie went to her big brother and wrapped her arms around him. We’ll figure it out. First off, let’s get you that drink. Then we’ll sit down and chart out a course of action.

Dale watched as his sister got a glass and a bottle of whiskey, sitting it on the already crowded kitchen counter. While he poured himself a drink he asked, Would you mind if I crashed on your couch for a few days, until I figure something out?

Chrissie, having gone back to making coffee, looked over her shoulder, scowling at Dale. I can’t believe you even asked that. Of course you can. Why are you wearing that stupid raincoat?

Dale shuddered slightly as he downed a shot of the whiskey. Because, all I’ve got on underneath it are my boxers. Hell, I’m lucky to have grabbed my sneakers. One of the firemen was good enough to loan me this so I wouldn’t get arrested for indecent exposure.

Chrissie giggled. That was very kind of him. I guess that means I get to take you shopping.

Dale poured himself another shot. Oh fuck me.

Yeah, you’re gonna get that makeover now, whether you like it or not. Chrissie took her brother by the arm. Have a seat here, and I’ll go and get a pad and pen, so we can make a list of things that have to happen.

Dale sat at the small glass-topped dining table. This can’t be happening. He propped his elbows on the table, his head resting in his hands.

Chrissie returned with her laptop computer and something to write on, having put on a bathrobe. We’ll get through this. Now, first things first. She went into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee.

Dale couldn’t help but notice that even her coffee cup was pink. "Do you own anything that isn’t pink?"

Chrissie stopped. What? You don’t like pink?

"Pink is fine… but everything pink? You always wear something pink. Your apartment is pink, your car is pink. Dale shook his head. I feel like I’m trapped in a Pepto Bismol bottle."

Chrissie rolled her eyes. Pink is my signature color, she said in a faux southern accent.

This time, Dale rolled his eyes as he took yet another shot of whiskey.

Okay, let’s take that away from you, Chrissie said, moving the bottle to the opposite side of the table. I can’t take you shopping if you’re stink-ass drunk.

But I want to be drunk, Dale muttered.

Okay, but you’ll have to wait. She pulled the pad closer. We need to call the insurance company. Do you have—? She stopped writing. Okay, I guess you don’t have the insurance information. You do know who you’re with, don’t you?

Of course, I do. He gave his sister the name of the insurance company and the agent’s name. He reached for the whiskey bottle but she smacked his hand away.

Not now. After we call… she looked over Dale’s shoulder into the kitchen. It’s just a little past seven a.m. We’ll try calling around eight. They should be open by then. She looked at her brother and reached out her hand to him. Come on, Dale, things will work out.

Oh holy fuck, Dale groaned.

Then we’ll go and get you some clothes. She giggled, clearly trying her best to lighten the mood any way she could. You run around in that raincoat and people are going to think you’re a flasher or some kind of perv.

Dale looked up. Very funny.

"Oh, come on. We can actually have a little fun. Chrissie stopped and frowned. Okay, I’ve got one class I cannot miss today. It’s at ten. We can make a few calls before I have to leave. Then we’ll go shopping!"

Dale looked blankly at his sister. Just shoot me now. You know I hate shopping, especially for clothes.

Would you just stop? Chrissie rolled her eyes. Let me boot up my laptop so I can find out the number for the insurance agent and see what sales are going on.

Fine, you do that. As soon as Chrissie focused on her computer, Dale reached for the bottle and took a long swig. This is such a nightmare. He took another drink.

Put that down, Chrissie said as she looked up from her laptop. What was the name of the agent again?

Allison Trent, Dale answered, before turning the bottle up again.

Chrissie snatched the bottle from him. I swear, you take one more drink of this, I’m going to pour it out. She glared at her brother. I mean it.

Dale groaned again and laid his forehead on the cool glass of the tabletop.

Let me have a look, here. Chrissie studied the screen of her computer. Oh, I just found an emergency number. Do you have your—of course not. I’ll get mine. Chrissie stood up and took the bottle of whiskey with her, glaring at Dale as she went in search of her cell phone.

She returned a moment later with the phone but without the whiskey. Now then, here we go. I’ll put it on speaker so we can both hear.

The phone rang once and then a chipper voice said hello along with the company’s tag line, …where you’re in good hands. How may I help?

Hi, I’m here with my brother who is a customer of yours and his business and apartment just… well, burned down, Chrissie said as she leaned over the phone.

Oh, that’s terrible. The voice did sound sympathetic at least, Dale thought. Do you or he have the account number?

No, I don’t have anything, and I do mean literally nothing, Dale said.

Okay. Can you give me your full name, please? I’ll look up your information.

Sure. Dale Sean Lusk, Dale said before sighing.

The address, please. Dale could hear the insurance employee typing away.

Dale gave the address and then the last four digits of his social security number to verify who he was for security reasons.

Okay, I have all your information. Your agent is Lizbeth Reynolds. Let me see if she has come in yet, the overly chipper voice said. Is it alright if I put you on a brief hold?

Chrissie took one look at her brother and answered, Sure.

When the prerecorded classical music started, so did Dale. I know for a fact that Alison was my agent. I have… had her card. Met with her. She even came into the restaurant a few times for dinner.

We’ll get it figured out, Chrissie said. At least we have someone to start with.

I guess. Dale sighed again.

I’m sorry but Lizbeth isn’t in yet, the happy voice said as she came back on the line. I’ve left a message for her to call you. Are the numbers the same as on the policy?

No, you twit! Dale exploded. I’m wearing my underwear, tennis shoes and a borrowed raincoat. That is all I have to my name. And I thought Allison Trent was my agent.

Allison is no longer with the company. I’m sorry.

Here, use my number. Chrissie quickly recited her number, clarified it, all the time watching Dale. I’m sorry, but my brother’s a bit on edge.

I’m so sorry. I understand, the insurance lady said. As soon as Lizbeth comes in, I’ll make sure to get her to call you. In the meantime, I’m going to start the ball rolling with getting the claim paperwork started. I’m sure we can get an adjustor out today.

Thank you, Chrissie responded. Have a blessed day. She quickly ended the call.

Chrissie got up and refilled her coffee, bringing her brother a cup, as well. You gotta hold it together, Dale.

Dale frowned at the coffee she set in front of him. I guess. I’ll try.

Chrissie retied her pink, fluffy bathrobe before she sat back down. Now… let’s see about some sales. She clicked away on her laptop and then looked up. Oh… do you have any money?

Yeah, in the bank. But I don’t have any identification. Dale reluctantly picked up the mug of coffee.

Do you do online banking? she asked.

Yeah, I do, Dale answered, blowing across the top of the coffee.

Cool. How about PayPal?

Yeah.

Perfect. Chrissie clapped her hands together. "You can send the money to my PayPal account and I can then give you cash."

Dale looked up. Good idea. I also have a business account with PayPal. I wonder if I can get them to send me a new card without having to produce ID?

That’s a great idea. Let me look up a number and you can call them. Chrissie typed away. Oh, you’ll have to sign in to do that. Here.

She pushed the computer towards him. While you take care of that, I’m going to go get a quick shower.

Dale pulled the computer close to him and signed into PayPal. When he was done with that, he got into his Dropbox and began sending out emails to his suppliers, explaining what had happened and cancelling the restaurant’s orders.

How are you making out? Chrissie asked as she reentered the room.

Dale looked up. Wow….

You like? Chrissie did a slow pirouette.

Yeah, you look great, Dale said. That didn’t take long.

Chrissie smoothed out the white sundress that clung to her, showing off her curves. I have a routine down. She adjusted the pink scarf that was tied around her neck.

You remind me of Marilyn Monroe, Dale said.

Thank you. That’s exactly what I was going for. Chrissie poured herself some more coffee.

What have you gotten done? she asked, leaning against the doorway into the kitchen.

I got money sent to you and PayPal is sending me a new card to your address. Dale pushed the computer away from him. I also got a lot of business stuff done, so I won’t have deliveries showing up.

Oh, that’s good. Chrissie dumped the remaining coffee down the drain. Luckily for you, there are a ton of sales going on for Father’s Day. But I have a feeling we may need to only make one stop. At least for today. She smiled sweetly at her brother. I’ll take pity on you this once.

Oh joy. Dale closed his eyes for a moment. Alright. I don’t have a whole lot of choice, do I?

Nope. Chrissie picked up a small pink handbag, a briefcase and her car keys. I should be back around eleven-thirty. Be ready to go.

Yes ma’am.

* * * * *

What do you mean, you’re moving out? Albert Borkowski asked, his mouth hanging open.

I’m sorry Al, but it can’t be helped, Mark said as he continued packing. My folks need me. My mom said that the stroke was a major one and has left my dad in pretty bad shape. I gotta go.

I’m sorry to hear about your father. Al removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes in frustration. It doesn’t give me a lot of notice, though.

Hey, at least you’ve got three weeks to find another roommate before the rent is due again. Marc taped up another box.

But the end of the semester is just around the corner. It will be difficult to find someone this time of year. Al frowned as he watched his now former roommate pack.

What would you have me do? Marc didn’t even look at Al as he continued with his packing.

Do you think you may be coming back? Al was grasping at straws now, and he knew it.

Marc stood up. It’s highly doubtful. My mom wouldn’t have asked me to come home if there was any chance. Maybe next year, I don’t know for sure. Marc turned back to what he was doing. I’ll let you know.

Al paced back and forth in his practice room while Marc carried his belongings to his older model truck, a hand-me-down if he had to guess. Crap, what am I going to do now? He heard a soft knock at the door. It was Marc, holding the house keys in his hands.

Goodbye, Al. I’m sorry I’ve put you in this situation. At least the bills are paid up for the next three weeks, Marc apologized again.

I’m sorry too, Mark. Al shook Mark’s hand before following him out onto the stoop. I hope everything works out with your father.

Thanks. I appreciate that. Mark fought to get the old truck into first gear. Good luck on the recital.

Thanks. Drive safely.

Will do. Mark pulled away from the curb, leaving Al standing there on the front stoop.

What am I going to tell grandmother? She will not be pleased, Al said out loud, causing a woman walking a small dog to look at him oddly. Al looked up at the brownstone across the street, which was identical to the others on the street. Sighing, he closed the front door.

Chapter Two

Al tacked up the last of the flyers advertising for a new roommate on yet another school bulletin board. Surely I’ll get at least one good response after putting up ten of these things.

Sighing, Al looked at the ad.

Roommate wanted – Male roommate for a two-bedroom, one bath apartment in the Upper East Side. Bedroom is furnished. $1,500.00 includes all utilities.

Each flyer had his number on small tear-off tags along the bottom. He looked at his watch. He still had fifteen minutes to get to his rehearsal.

* * * * *

Dale stood looking at himself in the mirror after having showered. He rubbed his stubbled face, refusing to use the pink ladies’ razor that Chrissie had in the shower. Leaning in closer, he examined the dark circles under his eyes. Wow, you look like shit.

With is forefinger, he rubbed toothpaste over his teeth, rinsed and then gargled with the mouthwash his sister had sitting on the shelf next to the sink. Sighing, he picked up his black boxer brief underwear, turned them inside out. Shaking his head, he pulled them on.

Dale, I’m back, Chrissie’s voice called out, muffled by the closed bathroom door. Where are you?

Dale opened the door to go meet his sister. I just had a shower. Hope you don’t mind.

Of course— Chrissie stopped when she spied her brother, standing in nothing but his boxers, his hair still wet. I… She shook her head slightly. Why some hottie hasn’t snatched you up is still beyond me. Dale, you’re in great shape, especially for your age.

"What do you mean, for my age? Dale glared at his little sister. I’m not that much older than you, and thirty-one isn’t exactly old. Don’t you like… have another robe, or something I can put on? Maybe something that isn’t pink?"

Like I would have anything that you’d fit into. But I did pick you up a few things. Chrissie held up a brown shopping bag. I think these will fit. Can’t have you running around in that stupid raincoat scaring small children. She tossed the bag at her brother.

Dale groaned as he caught the parcel. He peered in carefully, a frown crossing his brow. Turning the bag upside down onto the bed, he emptied the contents. He picked up a piece of clothing with his forefinger and thumb, examining it. Wow, this isn’t exactly ugly.

Jeez, thanks. Chrissie stood next to him, her hands on her hips. I’ve been told I have very good taste.

Dale held the shirt out with both hands. It’s not a color I’d normally choose.

It’s a beautiful cerulean blue that will make your eyes seem even bluer. Chrissie picked up the khaki shorts and held them up next to the shirt. It’s simple, but nice enough to go shopping in. Very casual, but still nice.

Dale pulled on the golf-style shirt. And it fits… for the most part. A little tight don’t you think?

Chrissie rolled her eyes and shook her head at the same time. No, it actually fits you. You always wear clothes that are too big for you. Makes you look like you’re wearing a potato sack. Here, put the shorts on. I had to guess your waist size.

Dale got the shorts on. These are okay. He looked up, smiling at his sister who wasn’t smiling.

They’re too big.

No, they’re fine, Dale said, shoving his hands into the side pockets. I just need a belt.

We’ll have to get you one when we’re out. Chrissie reached towards the waistband of the shorts. See, she said, pulling them out. "They are too big."

I happen to like ‘em. Dale scowled at his sister.

Dale, they are too big. Turn around, she commanded.

Dale did as she asked.

It looks like you’ve got no ass. She tugged at the top of the shorts, pulling them up tighter. You’ve got a nice derriere. You need to show it off.

"You just leave my derriere out of it." Dale turned back around.

Why is it that I have the only gay brother who can’t seem to dress himself? Chrissie picked up her handbag from where she’d set down on the side of the bed. I have something else for you.

I’m afraid. Dale sat down to put on his shoes.

Here. Chrissie handed him a small piece of paper.

Dale took it and looked down at a phone number. Uh… okay. It’s a phone number. What am I supposed to do with it?

I was going into class when I saw a guy I kind of know putting this up. He’s looking for a roommate. Chrissie shut her pink patent leather purse, smiling.

Uh, no. Dale handed the scrap of paper back to her. I’m too old to have a college age roommate.

"He’s probably close to your age. His name is Al Borkowski. He’s doing the master’s program. Al’s like some kind of savant. I don’t know him that well, but what I do know is that he’s brilliant. He won some big award a few years back. Chrissie pushed the number back at Dale. You need a place to live. My apartment is too small for me, much less the both of us. Besides, you don’t exactly fit on that tiny sofa of mine."

Dale closed his eyes. You’re right. I guess I can at least call the guy.

Good. Chrissie leaned down and kissed her brother on the forehead. He’ll be in classes most of the day or in rehearsal. I heard he’s accompanying some stupid tenor at the same recital I’m in.

Dale couldn’t help but laugh. Jealous much? Don’t you have any other classes today?

Chrissie snorted. I do, but they aren’t important. I’m so far ahead in both of them it isn’t funny. Besides, we have to get you taken care of and that takes precedence. She looked at her watch. We need to get a move on. We have a lot to get done and I have to work tonight, so move it.

Work? Dale stood up and followed Chrissie into her small living room. I didn’t know you had a job. When did this happen.

I’ve always worked. It’s just that you worked nights, when I was also working. She got her keys out to lock the door to the apartment. Come on, we’re cabbing it.

Where are we going and just where have you been working? Dale asked as he watched her put her keys into her bag.

We’re going to Nordstrom’s to start. I have a friend there. And I’ve hooked up with this jazzy-blues band. We’ve had gigs all over the city and several private parties. Pays pretty good, too. Chrissie put her arm through Dale’s.

I can’t afford Nordstrom’s. Are you crazy? Dale stopped short. I’m not made of money ya know?

Yeah, yeah. You’ve never been shopping with me, so hush. I know what I’m doing.

They reached the street, where Chrissie walked out past the curb, her hand up. Within seconds she had a taxi pulling over.

* * * * *

"Jonathan, this is my brother, Dale

Reviews for Play Chopin for Me

[Lee Clark · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Nice story and pretty good characters. The story is slow to develop. One of the major themes of the story is never fully resolved. The book is filled with so many grammatical errors that it was irritating. Don’t authors know anything about proper English? Are books not proofread and errors corrected? Who is more illiterate, the authors, the editors or those who read the books?