Toxic Bachelors Read Online Free PDF Page A

had funded. He had met Charlie then, and Adam when Charlie invited both him and Gray to his apartment to dinner to thank them. The three men couldn't have been more different but, in spite of that, had discovered a common bond, in the causes they cared about, and the fact that none of them were married, or seriously involved with anyone at the time. Adam had just gone through his divorce. Charlie was between engagements and invited both of them on the boat he had then, to keep him company during the month of August, when he had planned to be on it for his honeymoon. He thought a trip with the two men might be a pleasant distraction, and it had turned out better than he'd hoped. They'd had a fantastic time. The girl Gray had been going out with had attempted suicide in June, and left with one of his art students in July. By August, he had been greatly relieved to leave town, and grateful for the opportunity Charlie offered to do so. Gray had been even more broke than usual at the time. And Adam had had a tough spring, with two major athletes sustaining injuries, and a world-class band canceling a concert tour, which had spawned a dozen lawsuits. The trip to Europe on Charlie's yacht had been perfect. And it had been their annual junket since then. This year promised to be no different. St. Tropez, Monte Carlo for a little gambling, Portofino, Sardinia, Capri, and wherever they felt like stopping in between. They had been on the boat for only two days, and all three men were thrilled to be there. Charlie thoroughly enjoyed their company, just as they did his. And the Blue Moon was the ideal venue for their shared mischief and fun.
    “So what'll it be, boys? Club 55 for lunch, and a little swimming first?” Charlie pressed, so he could let the captain know their plans.
    “Yeah, what the hell, I guess so,” Adam said, rolling his eyes, as his French cell phone rang and he ignored it. He could listen to the message later. He carried only one while in Europe, a vast improvement over the battery of phones and papers he carried in New York. “It's tough work, but someone has to do it.” He grinned.
    “Bloody Mary, anyone?” Charlie inquired with feigned innocence, as he signaled to the steward that they'd be leaving. The purser, who'd been standing by, a handsome young man from New Zealand, nodded, then disappeared to tell the captain, and make the lunch reservation. He didn't need to ask anything more. He knew Charlie would want to go ashore for lunch at two-thirty. Most of the time he preferred eating on board, but the scene in St. Tropez was too tempting. And everyone who was anyone went to Club 55 for lunch, just as they went to Spoon these days for dinner.
    “Make mine a virgin Bloody Mary,” Gray said as he smiled at the steward. “I thought I'd postpone my trip to rehab for a few days.”
    “Make mine hot and spicy, and come to think of it, make mine with tequila,” Adam said with a broad grin as Charlie laughed.
    “I'll have a Bellini,” Charlie said—they were peach juice and champagne, and an easy way to start a day of decadence. Charlie had a fondness for Cuban cigars and good champagne. They had a lot of both on board.
    All three men sat drinking and relaxing on deck as they motored carefully away from the port, avoiding the many smaller boats and the daily tour boats filled with gawkers who snapped their picture as they drove by. The usual flock of paparazzi were huddled together at the end of the quai , waiting for big yachts to come into port, so they could see who was on board. They followed celebrities on motorbikes, hounding them every step of the way, and they took a last picture of Blue Moon as she sailed away, assuming correctly that the superyacht would be back that night. Most of the time they took photographs of Charlie as he strolled through town, but he rarely if ever gave them fodder for the tabloids. Aside from the immense opulence and size of his yacht, Charlie led a relatively quiet life,