As You Are

Citation preview

As You Are

Ethan Day

As You Are Copyright © September 2009 by Ethan Day All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions. ISBN 978-1-60737-440-4 Available in PDF, HTML, Microsoft Reader, and Mobi Editor: Judith David Cover Artist: Croco Designs Printed in the United States of America

Published by Loose Id LLC 870 Market St, Suite 1201 San Francisco CA 94102-2907 www.loose-id.com This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author‟s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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About this Title Genre: LGBT Erotic Contemporary Operation Danny… that‟s all bartender and recent college graduate Julian Hallowell has had on his mind over the past year. Julian may have no idea what he wants to do with his life, but he definitely knows he„s in love with the boy next door: The one in next room to be exact: his roommate Danny Wallace. Danny owns a used text book store just off campus, and while Julian has done his level best to make Danny fall for him, all his hard work appears to have been in vain. Danny doesn‟t seem to view Julian as anything other than that…a roommate and friend. So when new-guy-in-town Andy Baker asks him out on a date, Julian can‟t seem to think of a good reason to say no. Julian has already instituted a Reverse Operation Danny plan, which he‟s positive will purge all thoughts of love and lust for his roomie out of his head. He‟s ready to move on and start looking for his next Mr. Right, and Andy just might fit the bill. Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: Anal play/intercourse, male/male sexual practices.

Chapter One Since I'd come out of the closet as a teen, there was only one thing that I had truly ever wanted: to fall in love and live happily ever after. I'm sure there's a smart-ass out there somewhere saying, That's two things. My secret's out; I'm greedy. Besides, what's one without the other? That would be like a sandwich without the tangy zip of Miracle Whip. The fact remains, I was totally ready to meet the love of my life, settle down, and spend forever in wedded bliss. I believed with all my heart that love was waiting just around the corner. A little over a decade had come and gone, and I still hadn't found The One. It was starting to feel like a silly fantasy, especially after more than ten years, but I continued to believe he was out there somewhere. One would think that after that length of time I'd become bitter or cynical about love. Alas, no. True to my Piscean fate, I still walked around blinded by the prospect of true love. I loved to sit at outdoor cafés and restaurants and watch as men walked by. In the fifteen to twenty seconds each was in my sight, I'd imagine who he was and what our life would be like together. I pictured it in little vignettes in my head. As each Tall, Dark, and Man-some passed by, I imagined…maybe he was a furniture designer from Vermont. We'd live in some rustic lakeside home with two yellow Labradors. I'd make pitchers of fresh lemonade and take a glass to him out in his workshop. He'd be all shirtless and sweaty…and grateful for the refreshment.

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Then that furniture designer would vanish from my sight, and I'd latch on to the next guy. He was, perhaps, a tough district attorney who spent all day putting rapists and gay bashers in prison. After a rough day fighting crime, he'd come home to our artfully decorated penthouse, where we'd throw fabulous parties attended by famous people. He'd spend the entire evening next to me…so devoted. My best friend, Gabrielle—Gabby—liked to refer to me as sick, tagging me as one of those disgustingly hopeless romantics she was always going on about. I preferred the line Kathleen Turner used in Romancing the Stone: “Hopeful—hopeful romantic.” That's me, Julian Hallowell, rapidly approaching thirty years of age and still waiting for the existential crisis to kick in, causing the midlife homo crisis, which would in turn light a fire under my ass to discover what it is I was meant to do with my life. At five feet nine inches and one hundred seventy pounds, I wasn't going to win any prizefights. Built a little more like a thatch hut than a brick wall, I knew I was perhaps on the scrawny side. Look, I can't help it. I'm constitutionally incapable of sticking to any kind of workout regimen. I'm not weak-willed—just complacent. I could've been one of those big, beef-factory type of guys if I wanted to, but the truth is, I never seemed to have any trouble getting dates, so I didn't see the point in killing myself. I did what I needed to do to keep myself thin, and left the muscles to the guys who knew how to use them. I'd decided to take a sabbatical from dating when I met Danny, my roommate, a little over a year ago. At the time, I'd convinced myself that Danny was The One. But eventually, I stopped kidding myself and swallowed the hard truth. In actuality he was what I not so affectionately referred to as a walking hard-on, always on the prowl for some boy-band wannabe to bed down for the night. What he liked to call chicken. Why older gay men refer to younger gay men as chicken, I do not know. Do they see them as food? Do they think

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they're afraid? Personally, I don't see the appeal. If I wanted to train something, I'd go buy a puppy. I asked Danny once what a thirty-year-old talks about with a twenty-yearold. He said, “Julie”—he liked to call me Julie, for reasons unknown to me— “we don't do much talking.” I, of course, found this comment particularly offensive. Danny Wallace was, unfortunately for me, just plain fucking hot…at least in my opinion. He kept his light brown hair buzzed very short, military-style, and he had bright green eyes that I swore I could physically feel whenever they landed on me. I figured him to be three to four inches taller than I was, but his body seemed like one long, thick, tightly wound muscle. Despite his sexy jawline, complete with cleft chin, the hottest thing about Danny was his aura; he just had this ease about him. From garbage men to governors, everyone got on with Danny. I couldn't really blame them; the second I laid eyes on him I wanted to get on. Whatever the reason, and probably because he wouldn't want anything to do with me— since I was twenty-eight-plus and well past the “chicken” stage—I fell completely in love with him. I launched Operation Danny, trying everything I could think of to make him fall in love with me. I always made sure he had my undivided attention when he was talking, as if he were the only person in the world. I gave him neck and scalp massages, my specialty, when he got home from work. The his and his towels for Christmas. I'd regularly get up before he did in the mornings and make coffee and breakfast for us on the weekends. I joined his gym so we could work out together, but Danny was like a damn Swiss watch—up and out the door at five thirty in the morning to hit the gym before work. While I did view the gym as something of a necessary evil, there was only one thing I'd consider being up for at five thirty in the morning…and it didn't involve barbells.

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Hell, I even went so far—I'm embarrassed to admit—as to eat phallic foods like celery, carrots, and bananas as often as possible. The number of lollipops I'd had in my mouth the last year alone… Let's just say that if I hadn't had an oral fixation before, I definitely developed one since. The upside was I probably could literally suck a golf ball through a garden hose. See…there really is always a silver lining. Of course, none of my schemes, oral or otherwise, worked, and eventually, as often happens when you love someone who doesn't return those feelings, I finally stopped beating the long-dead and rapidly decomposing horse. Instead, I shifted gears, did a one-eighty, and became bitchy to him—a natural instinct to try to force myself out of love with him. I picked out his flaws and inflated them to unheard-of proportions. I avoided him with same vigor and determination I'd avoid being caught still doing the Macarena or the Electric Slide. While I was still working on Reverse Operation Danny, I hoped that getting back into the dating game would offer a much needed diversion.

***** I smiled as I pulled on a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and a navy blazer, and checked myself out in the mirror. Not too shabby for a skinny kid from St. Louis, I thought, running fingers through my short brown hair. I seemed brown all over: brown eyes, brown hair, nutty brown, well-tanned skin. I could only shrug. Mom always said to work with what you got. What I got was a nice, round butt. I laughed, licking my finger and placing it on my ass. Ssssssssizzzzzle. A quick wink at my reflection in the mirror, and I was walking from my bedroom, humming as I made my way into the living room, to begin the ritual of finding my keys—the ever-elusive keys. They were almost as hard to find as the right man. Gabby and I met for lunch every weekday. We'd probably meet on weekends too, but her whiny boyfriend claimed she spent more time with me as it was. Shocker! He was about as exciting as a Hootie and the Blowfish concert. He was very Hootie.

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I lived in a two-bedroom loft above an old hardware store downtown. It had an open floor plan with hardwood floors and a bistro-style kitchen. There was a small dining area. An island with stools separated the kitchen from the living room, which was filled with overstuffed furniture and a massive entertainment armoire. Overall, the design was simple, somewhat modern yet possessing warmth in the tone of the mocha paint color and fabric choices. The place pretty much screamed modern-bachelor-butch. “Good morning, Julie.” Danny walked out of the bathroom scratching his stomach. He took almost every Friday off, something he could manage because he owned his own business. “I hope all of the screaming last night didn't keep you…up.” “Danny”—I fumbled through the bowl on the kitchen island meant for fruit but filled with bills—“why should I be surprised? I'm the only man who's ever set foot in this apartment that hasn't run out of it screaming.” “Rowr,” he said in his best Austin Powers voice, holding up a hand like a claw. “I wouldn't worry, sweetie. Someday you'll be able to lure a man up here…maybe if you offered him some cookies.” “You have it all wrong.” I walked over to the coffee table, continuing my search. “They should be moaning, not screaming.” Turning and lifting the couch cushions, I added, “Of course, I'd probably scream too, once I realized Satan was lying on top of me.” “Uh-oh.” Danny went into the kitchen and took a bottle of water from the fridge. “Does Julie need a Midol?” “More like a pistol,” I mumbled to myself, standing in front of the couch perusing the room for the next place to look. I did my best to keep my eyes off Danny standing there with a sexy smile, wearing nothing but his Calvin's. “No need to be so bitter.” He laughed as he leaned against the bar between the kitchen and living room. “I told you I'd give you a go. That's what roommates are for.”

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“Ew!” I looked him up and down with a scowl while secretly wishing he'd bend me over the couch. “A lifetime of masturbation sounds more pleasurable, and no, you freak, that's not what roommates are for. People have roommates to cut their living expenses.” “Well, in that case, I guess I shouldn't give you these.” He held up my leather keychain, jingling it around as if to taunt me. The way Danny was looking at me made feel like the Millennium Falcon being pulled into the Death Star by the force of his animal, tractor-beam magnetism. What? I like Star Wars, people. A little homosexuality and you folks have me clutching pearls as I watch reruns of the Golden Girls. Shame on you! “How long have you had…? Oh never mind.” I walked up to him and snatched the keys out of his hand. “If Gabby calls, will you please tell her I'm on my way?” “You're welcome,” he said with his I'm-too-sexy smirk. “Just what time do you plan on being home? You know how I get when I have to wait for you to get dinner on the table.” “I told you to stop watching Streetcar.” I headed for the door. “Gay men are supposed to relate with Blanche, not Stanley. And take a shower, for Christ's sake. You smell like stale sex.” Closing the door, stifling his opportunity to continue the delightful banter, I took a deep breath, unable to believe I'd been in love with that man for the greater part of the past year. Okay, so maybe I was perfect, but my judgment wasn't? I climbed into my new Mini Cooper, a graduation present from my father, Jacob. He and my mother, Delilah, divorced when I was in high school, which had initiated this long tradition of insane competition between the two of them to outdo one another with expensive gifts. The car was his way of getting back at her for the three-week trip to Europe she'd given me for my birthday. I tell you what, people: being an only child…priceless. I cranked up the stereo volume, and the thumping club music enveloped me. I pulled out of the

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parking lot to head for Paoli's, the restaurant where Gabby and I religiously met for lunch. At twenty-eight and a half, and only recently a college graduate, I still had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I'd never been very goal-oriented. I sort of just went with it and allowed myself to be blown around like litter on the side of the highway. I was a true symbol of my “do nothing” generation. I'd gone through three majors, dropped out of school, and worked in restaurants for several years. Finally, ten months ago, I went back to school and finished a degree in major number four: communications. Just after I moved in with Danny, he helped me get a job tending bar at the Downspout, one of the gay clubs downtown. For once I'd planned ahead and gotten a job before the student-loan bills started coming in. My parents had paid for university during the first three majors I'd gone through. When I'd gone back, I told them that I wanted to pay for it myself. I felt like I'd wasted their money the first time—or times, as the case may be. I didn't want to take the chance that I'd drop out again and still have no degree. They did, of course, pay all my living expenses, so it wasn't as if I'd completely struck out on my own. I was still dependent on them. I know, some of you hate me already, well piss off… What am I supposed to do, say no when they offer? It was always a little surprising to me that my parents coddling me wasn't one of the things Danny ever seemed to make fun of. It was perhaps the only thing about me that seemed off-limits to his wickedly acute sense of what was and wasn't right for me. My parents, in return, both seemed to love Danny. It was as if they were afraid I might accidently hack off a limb with a butter knife should I be left alone without some type of supervision. It was very annoying but also nice knowing they loved me so much.

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Chapter Two I rounded a street corner in my little mobile dance club on my way to meet Gabby for lunch. As I passed the park with all the people milling about enjoying the bright, sunshiny day, I smiled thinking back to the last time I'd been to the park. Not like that, you dirty-minded bitches! Sheesh…as if I'd ever be trolling the parks! It had been about a year ago, and one of the first really great days I'd spent with Danny—one of the days that sort of made me think he might like me. As it turned out, it also wound up being the last really great day of fall, just before the cold days of winter took hold and refused to let go. Danny, who owned a used bookstore for students just off campus, had finished his big fall inventory. It was something he did to prepare for the rush of the spring semester, which was, along with my impending graduation, only a few months away.

***** The sun was bright and high, not a cloud in the crystal blue sky. The leaves were in various stages of turn, and the vibrant, earthy rusts, dark reds, and fire-bright yellows clung to the trees and littered the ground around them. It was a stunningly beautiful day, and I was sitting on the windowsill of the loft smoking and feeling more than a bit depressed. Mom had just left after a weeklong visit, and I was suffering from my usual post-parental-partum depression. As much as she drove me mental, I adored my mother. Life always seemed just the teensiest bit dimmer after Delilah went home from a visit, as if the color had slightly drained out of everything.

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Danny burst into the loft as excited as a little kid, and he didn't notice me as he ran straight into his bedroom. I could hear him rummaging around as I used the smoldering butt of one cigarette to light a second one. “Stop chaining.” Danny came across the living room, hopping as he tried to put on sneakers. He looked charmingly rumpled in jeans and an old, worn rugby shirt. “Heading to the park for a little touch football.” I forced a bit of a smile and gave him a wink. “You should come!” He had a look on his face like he'd just invented cheese. “It'll put some color into those cheeks.” “I think I'll pass.” Images from the two weeks of high school phys ed I'd suffered through flashed before my eyes. Luckily, thanks to Mom and the very cooperative family doctor, the torture of PE hadn't lasted any longer. It always baffled me that as much as I loved to suck balls, I sure as fuck couldn't seem to catch one. “The last thing I need at the moment is to be the albatross in a team-sport montage.” “You can be on my team.” Danny slipped on his second sneaker and fired off the most adorably sexy, knee-weakening half smile I'd ever seen. “Come on, don't be a pussy. Come with. We're just playing for fun, so no one will care how bad you suck.” See? He'd never seen me play a sport, and already he assumed I'd suck. I tried to hold on to my stony-faced demeanor, but the look on Danny's face said that he could spot the cracks in my faux-cade. “Go on ahead, Danny. Honestly, I'm fine. I just feel like being alone.” He snatched the ciggie out of my hand and peeked out to see if anyone would catch him tossing it out the window. My mouth fell open, since that was something he insisted I never do. Danny was very antilitter. He took me by the arm and yanked me off the ledge. “Come on, mopey. I'm not leaving you here to be all sullen and alone.” He dragged me into my bedroom and surveyed the terrain as if confused about

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what to do once he had me there. “I swear, I'll throw myself out the window if I leave and get back home later to find you singing depressing show tunes about the men that got away.” I gasped, not because I was shocked by the accusation, but because he'd insulted my singing voice. “At least I can carry a tune.” I placed my hands on my hips. “True.” Danny started rummaging through my dresser drawers. “As long as you don't have to carry it too far.” I gave him a dirty look, and he gave me an order: to strip off my pajamas. Since moving in with Danny, I'd had a lot of fantasies that began with him ordering me to strip. None of them ever ended with him finding me suitable clothes in which to play touch football. I honestly didn't want to go, but I couldn't seem to tell Danny no. If only I could get him to ask the right questions. There were plenty of things I could think of to get his heart rate up if that's what he was after. Danny shut the last drawer and crinkled up his face. “Do you have any jeans that don't require lubrication to get into?” I laughed a little, feeling myself blush slightly. “What difference does that make?” “It's a man sport, Julie. You need to be practical.” I raised an eyebrow at him and crossed my arms as I stood there in my underwear. He looked immediately regretful of the words that had just passed his lips. I watched the expression on his face change masterfully as if ready to try a different tack. “I just meant, you know…not club clothes.” “I know exactly what you meant.” I pushed past him and opened up the armoire so stuffed with clothes that the doors wouldn't shut all the way. I could feel the heat from his body as he came up behind me. It was as if all the tiny hairs on my body were reaching out for him. I yanked out a pair of jeans that I

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hadn't worn in years, part of my less-slutty-looking, more-formative early twenties. I slid them on, and while they weren't exactly what one might call loose-fitting, they didn't reveal which side I leaned toward either. Danny looked me up and down and shook his head…lingering over my ass a little longer than necessary if you asked me. “What?” I asked. “You have to be the world's biggest prick tease.” I shot him a nasty look. “Look here, Mister—” “Settle down there, tiger,” he interrupted, obviously pleased with himself for getting a rise out of me. “I can't believe the amount of clothing you own. This room is a firetrap.” I was ready to call the whole silly idea off when he yanked out a plain prison gray sweatshirt that I only ever wore when I was sick. “You seriously expect me to leave the house in that?” “I just…figured you wouldn't care if it got ruined?” My bullshit meter went through the roof. He turned a bit red, and I began to shove him out of my room. “Go downstairs and wait outside. I'll be down in a minute.” He tried to protest, but I kept jabbing at him, tickling until I had him back out into the living room. He might have been ten times stronger, but I was faster. I shook my head at him, and I could tell he was afraid of what I might come downstairs wearing. I smiled evilly to let him know he should be scared as I snatched the sweatshirt away from him. I shook my head a bit, a grown man worried about being out in the open with a big gay target by his side. The funny thing was that if he hadn't acted so hinky about it, I would've slid on a plain old T-shirt and we'd have been on our way. Our building was on the corner of a one-way street downtown that had tons of foot traffic, especially at night. The area was littered with bars and restaurants, and it was only blocks from the main campus of the university, so

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there was always something going on. It wasn't always the quietest place to live, but I loved being close to all the action. I came bursting onto the sidewalk wearing formfitting jeans that I never wore outside the bar. They were paired with an electric hot pink shirt that was so tight I might as well have not worn a shirt at all. It had 69 in huge black numbers on the back, and written across the chest in glittery black letters was SWEET MEAT. It was tacky as all hell, and it had taken me a bit of time and effort to find it, since I'd only worn the thing once. I'd bought it for one of the theme parties Gabby and I had thrown back in college. I think it was the plastics party we'd thrown around the time Mean Girls came out. Danny's mouth fell slightly open as his eyes widened. I got the sense it was way worse than even he'd imagined, and I gave myself a satisfied mental pat on the back. You could see every last modest ridge in my tummy and…whoops, I thought, looking down. “There they are!” I smiled as my nipples tightened from the cool afternoon air. Danny started laughing. “I suppose you just had to add the glitter?” I gave him my very best devious grin as I checked out my reflection in a store window. There wasn't a lot of my dark brown hair to work with, as I kept it fairly short, but I spiked out what I had on the top. I smiled, taking in my sparkly face and arms. “This is what you get for being such a homophobe.” He nodded as if to agree he was indeed being a hink-ass before. “Come on.” He tossed his arm around my shoulder and shook his head. “You are some piece of work.” I clenched my fist up into the air. “Balls of steel, I know.” He leaned back to check out my backside as we continued down the sidewalk. “Ass of steel too.” I wasn't the world's most butch queen, but I could pass through life without having my queer flag flying and go completely under the radar. It did however piss me off to no end when these self-righteous homos clad in

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Abercrombie got all pissy about the more limp-wristy members of our community. Some of Danny's friends were the worst. I had a tendency to get all ACT UP on their asses. That day I planned to pull out my inner queen and make them suffer their worst nightmare. The large city park was sort of a catchall, with a picnic and barbecue area, and a sports section with basketball and tennis courts and several open fields, where I assumed we'd be playing football. While it wasn't as busy during the week as it was on weekends, it was late afternoon, so kids were already out of school and screaming their fool heads off from the playground area. As we passed the lake there were joggers, dog owners walking their pets, and people scattered about lying in the grass reading and whatnot. A light breeze blew the leaves across the field as Danny and I made our way toward his group of friends. It wasn't long after moving in with Danny that I'd noticed his personality altered once he got around these dudes. I think he began to notice this as well over time, seeing himself mirrored back through my eyes. It was a change that had lessened quite a bit as the time that we lived together lengthened. Most of these guys had been in a frat together back in college, and they were very much all-for-one types. Only a few were gay, but other than the gaytrashing banter and slurs that got tossed around occasionally, they actually seemed to be a decent pack of guys. All except for Donald Thomas, that is, who was Danny's oldest friend. They'd grown up together, and both turned out to be gay. That's pretty much where the similarities stopped. Danny was at the core a very kind and caring person, while Donnie seemed more like…the spawn of Satan himself. Donnie was not a bad-looking guy. He'd actually be pretty fucking hot if it weren't for his personality. He was tall with buzzed, short hair like Danny's, like they were both getting ready to enlist. Donnie had very chiseled, masculine features. His nose had been obviously broken at least once before.

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But there was something in his eyes. They were blue, but it was as if they'd faded over time, like a picture that had been exposed to the sun for too long. He was taller than Danny and built Ford tough as well, with very nice, long legs. Just about when Donnie had your tail wagging, he'd open his mouth and ruin everything. “I didn't realize we were playing smear the queer.” Donnie placed a hand on his hip and looked beyond irritated at the sight of me. He was one of those people who always seemed to be giving somebody shit about something. It didn't matter whether you provoked him. He was either really in love with the sound of his own voice or just pissed off that he'd been named after a cartoon duck. Donnie had become worse where I was concerned since the night he'd come on to me and I'd shot him down. He really didn't seem to appreciate the fact that I didn't want to have sex with him. “What's Pinky doing here?” Donnie asked, walking around acting all girlie, giving a limp-wristed routine while firing nasty looks at Danny. I yanked out my phone and snapped a quick picture of Donnie walking around like a big nell. “Now I have the photo for my Christmas card.” I smiled sweetly as Donnie gave me a die-bitch-die look. I reached up and played with my nipple while pouting at Donnie. “I wore this old thing just for you, Donnie.” I laughed, seeing Donnie's jaw start to clench a bit. “Hey, Julian,” Chris, one of Danny's straight friends, greeted me. Chris seemed to get me. He always knew what I was up to. I adored his new wife as well. Since she as well was not a Donnie fan, I could guess that Chris was already looking forward to running home to describe to her what she'd missed. I smiled and waved at the rest of the lot of them as Danny began organizing teams. Since Fuck Face, a.k.a Donnie, refused to be on my team, stating he didn't feel like losing, he wound up being the other team's captain. Donnie's team consisted of Barney the Belcher (self-explanatory), Tommy TwoTone (sporting a major farmer's tan), Kevin the Crotch (because he always had his hand down there, which I assumed meant he either had a perpetual case of

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jock itch or it was so big that it required constant attention), Todd the Sprinkler (a major spitter), and Fred. What can I say? Poor Fred wasn't even interesting enough to deserve a nickname. To be fair, most of the others just ignored Donnie, while I made it my mission to tweak his nose whenever possible. I knew it bugged him even more to have a skinny little shrimp like me standing up to him. Chris had of course jumped at the chance to be teamed up with Danny and me, and the other members rounding out our side consisted of Jake and Jimmy, whom I referred to as the twins. While they did sort of look alike, it was due more to the fact that they always laughed at the exact time, like synchronized divers—only with laughs. It was unsettling, and it didn't help much that their laughs were identical. One laugh…two bodies. Spooooky. The final team member was Aaron, whom I called, Flame On, but only in my head. I didn't think he was gay, but he had the thickest, fullest head of red hair I'd ever seen on a man. He could also do a very convincing imitation of a wall—as in, he was as big as a… As the six of us huddled up, it took everything I had to not laugh my ass off about how ridiculous it had to look having skinny ol' me clad in skintight, neon clothes bunched up in this mix. These frat boys were mostly huge muscle junkies like Danny, which probably made me look like the annoying little brother one of them had been forced by his parents to bring along. Usually they went for blood and played full-on tackle football. These guys were, if nothing else, serious about their games. I felt a little sad they were stuck with me, but more than happy to be mashed up into the group of manliness and muscles. Tommy Two-Tone had just been cleared for normal exercise after surgery—to remove his appendix, as I recall. He was still a bit sore, I guess, so luckily for me this was football-lite. As the game wore on, it did, however, become more than a little difficult to concentrate as the smell of soap, sweat, and deodorant was constantly wafting up my nose and heading directly to my crotch. As if that weren't enough,

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having Danny yell at me to bend over, then shoving his hands in my crotch as I hiked him the ball… Let's just say I was really rethinking my smart-ass decision to wear skintight jeans. The game stayed neck and neck in terms of score as it moved along. We were about halfway down the field from our goal line, and if we scored, the game would be over. I was beyond sick of listening to Donnie and his mouth. I'd heard the words pussy, pansy, sissy, queer, and nelly about as much as I could stand for one decade. On top of that, almost everyone had their shirts off by then, and the scent and sights of all the sweaty beefcake… I needed to beat the other team so I could run home and beat off. I was nearing delirium, and so help me even ShitHead McGee started to look good when I pictured him naked…with a ball gag in his mouth. I was literally panting and doing my best to make it seem like I was just out of breath. In addition, I was seriously cursing myself for having Mom get me out of high school PE after only two weeks. Oh, the things I must have missed. Danny started snapping his fingers in my face. “Pay attention, fucker.” Okay…wow…that nearly made me come in my pants. “Sorry…I'm with ya!” “We're gonna take these motherfuckers down right now.” Danny had a gleam in his eyes. It wasn't the least bit nice, but it was sexy as hell. I might have actually run in and robbed a 7-Eleven had he asked me to in that moment. “Yeah!” all the other guys yelled out in sync with deep, throaty, rip-yourhead-off gusto. I was just about ready to throw myself onto the ground and beg to be gang banged. Who knew team sports could make me so slutty? Danny grabbed my chin, making me focus on his eyes as opposed to moist, glisteny, rock-hard, wish-I-could-lick…

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“You're gonna take us home on this one, Julian.” I could see the other guys getting a bit nervous—along with me. I knew I'd garnered some respect for my speed, which kept the other team from making much ground when they tried to score. It seemed to make up for my uselessness when it came to helping us score. “No one here can catch you, buddy. You're the fastest little shit I've ever seen, and no one from their side will be paying any attention to you.” “Danny, I can't catch,” I squeaked out in a please-don't-make-me voice. He looked at me with a you-can-and-you-will expression that made me more nervous. “Honestly, I've never been able to catch…anything.” Danny let out a frustrated, blustering sigh. “All right, fuckers. Here's what we're going to do.” As Danny went over his plan or play or whatever it was called, I could see his eyes flit over to Donnie and the other team. The intensity coming off my guys to shove the other team's fucking noses into the dirt was intoxicating. I knew as I stood hunched over in the sweaty huddle of man-meat that I would most likely never be the same after that afternoon. As we broke and got into position, I bent over to hike the ball, and Danny patted my ass, giving it a rough squeeze before shoving his hands into my crotch. That was apparently all the motivation I needed. I hiked him the ball and wriggled my little body through the line of hard-muscled opposition. I ran down the field, keeping my eyes peeled and focused on Chris, who had Donnie hot on his tail. I turned, veering toward Chris as he did the same toward me. Chris jumped up and caught the ball when he was about five feet away. He landed just before we passed one another, and handed the ball off to me. I veered off toward the goal line.

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When I glanced back, I saw that it had worked. Donnie was still chasing Chris. Then, realizing what had happened, he turned toward me. I smiled as I tore down the field, knowing no one was going to catch me. I'd had tons of experience running as a kid. Getting from my house to Cara Cardwell's on the other side of our subdivision became no easy feat with Gary Hamm's house smack between my house and hers. Gary had been the bane of my childhood existence, especially after he'd gone through some Chernobyl-like growth spurt at the age of ten. That summer before the start of fifth grade, I became a sprinter. Forrest Gump had nothin' on this bitch. I crossed the finish line and slowed to a stop. I could feel the biggest shiteating grin in the world stretch my face. I turned to see Donnie coming to a stop several feet away. My teammates all came running up, slapping my ass and shoving me around. I swear to you, the disgust on Donnie's face was the only thing that kept me from falling to my knees and start grabbing for cocks. When I saw Donnie's jaw clenching and knew my victory would eat away at him for the rest of his rotten life, something snapped in me. That's when it happened. “Who's the pussy now, 'roid-boy?” I pushed away from my teammates and began jumping around like I was on fire. “You just got lucky!” Donnie yelled. I was oblivious as the testosterone level and man-scent overload I was hyped up on took me over. It was a bit like an out-of-body experience as I took the football and held it down between my legs, pretending like it was a big, hard cock and yelled, “Suck on this, you punk-ass bitch. Pinky Boy just wiped the court with your punk ass!” Everyone was snickering as Danny whispered, “Field, not court.” “That too!” I yelled as Donnie spun around in a tizzy and stormed off, muttering stuff under his breath.

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Danny walked up and slammed his chest into mine. I fell back onto my ass as Danny looked down at me wide-eyed. WTF? We looked at each other in shock. Then I glanced past Danny to the rest of my teammates, all doing chest bumps and high fives a few feet away. I began laughing as Danny helped me back up. Dude…my first chest bump! I suddenly began to feel like one of the boyz. The feeling was short-lived, though. Danny brought me all the way to my feet, then tossed me up over his shoulder. He spun me around to carry me back to the rest of the guys. I laughed and called out to Donnie in a highpitched, girlie voice, “Come back, loser!” Danny smacked me on the ass. “Settle down there. I think he got the point.” “The best fucking day ever!” I yelled out, laughing. I could feel a low, rumbly laugh radiate through Danny's body as he put me back down and I high-fived my team. It wound up being the only time I ever played football with the guys. Not because I hadn't been invited back, but I honestly didn't think my cock could take the torture. I practically beat myself raw that night with an erection that refused to stay down.

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Chapter Three Turning the corner onto Lakeshore Drive, I pulled my car into a parking spot right outside the restaurant. This must be a lucky day. An Italian family owned Paoli's. They were incredibly gracious, incredibly gay-friendly, and incredibly good-looking—the whole damn family, not a booger in the bunch. I yanked open the door and walked into the bar. Joe, the hottie who managed the place for his parents, was there, and I said hello to him. The walls had a yellow and terra-cotta faux finish, with frescoes covering a good portion of them. There were six small bistro tables in the bar, and the bar itself was made out of concrete stained to look like real stone. “Hey, Julian.” Joe smiled as he looked up from the papers he was sifting through. “You want the usual?” “Please.” I meandered along the bar toward the dining room. “Is she here yet?” “Oh yeah.” Joe gave me a look and a half smile. He reached around the counter for a bottle of wine and a glass. “When you gonna do me that favor and hook me up with Gabby?” “Joe, you're too sweet. I couldn't in good conscience do that to you. She'd chew you up and spit you out before you got through cocktails and an appetizer.” “I should be so lucky,” he pleaded with a sexy smile that made my knees weak. “Masochist.” I picked up the glass of wine he poured for me and turned to head for the dining room. I never understood straight men, especially when it

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came to Gabby. I warned them she was a ball buster, but it never seemed to convince them. Like I would lie… I'm gay, for Christ's sake. It wasn't as if I was trying to get into her pants myself. Since we both smoked, we always sat outside on the covered patio, which was through an archway marked with two Corinthian columns. The floors were some type of light cream stone tiles, and the tables were draped with pristine, white, starched tablecloths. The sun cut through the large arcades, bathing the tables in light. Silverware and glasses sparkled on the tables like Christmastree lights. I spotted her at our usual table, and she waved and gave me a smile. The first thing anyone notices about Gabby is her hair. It's dark red with loads of long, unruly curls. The second thing they notice is the smile. She has a smile that could bring peace to the Middle East. Her lips are really a little too big for her face, and they spread open to unveil her perfect, gleaming white teeth. Gabby has always been a mystery to me. We'd met during college (my first time around); we were both working at the same restaurant. On her first day, I was supposed to train her on the floor to wait tables. We clicked instantly, and by the end of the evening, we were like conjoined twins. We ended up moving in together. It was the most fun I'd ever had in my life. We'd smoke too much pot, and she'd laugh so hard, she'd wind up peeing her pants. One night, after coming home from the library, we both started laughing about something, I can't even remember what now, and she anointed every step leading up to the attic apartment, eventually losing the rest of it on the kitchen linoleum. She was a walking contradiction of female stereotypes. She was a girlie girl, who liked rock climbing, hiking, and bicycling. If she were gay, she'd fall into the lipstick-lesbian category. “Hey, sweetie,” she said, martini in hand. I leaned down, gave her a peck on the cheek, and took the seat across from her. I never understood her ability to down three martinis at lunch and

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then go back to the newspaper and write. She said she came from a long line of Irish Catholic alcoholics and chalked it up to genetics. “You look flushed.” She pulled off a chunk of bread and dipped it into a mixture of garlic and olive oil. “Are you already nervous about your date tonight?” “Well, I wasn't until you brought it up.” I rearranged my silverware. “Thanks.” She smiled and gave me an apologetic look. She waved at two women as they walked by our table. “I hate her.” Gabby reached into her purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She extracted one from the pack, lit it, and inhaled. “She is so screwing every guy at the office.” Our waitress arrived and fired off the specials. We ordered and shooed her away. “Which one?” I asked with a greedy expression as I glanced back, nudging my head at her two friends. Gabby rolled her eyes in disgust. “The one with the big tits.” “You always hate women with big tits.” I mixed up my own garlic and olive oil. “That's probably because I have no tits,” she admitted. “I like your tits.” I looked at her chest as she pushed them out for me. “They're cute and perky.” “You probably like them because they're boyish,” she said with a look of insolence. “Joe hit me up for a date with you again.” I shook my head at her and placed my napkin in my lap. “Isn't he sweet?” She leaned back in her chair, straining to see him behind the bar. “What a cutie; it is tempting,” she added as a sex-kitten expression came over her face. “I do love Italian men.” “And Latin men and African American men.” I took a sip of wine.

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“What can I say? Ethnicity makes me hot.” She shoveled in another chunk of bread. “Yet you've been with Mr. White Bread for almost two years.” I leaned over and cadged the cigarette out of her hand to take a quick puff. “I know!” An amazed expression took over her face as I handed the ciggie back to her. She took a last drag before dousing it out in the ashtray. “Why do you think you've stayed with Brad so long?” I asked, tapping my finger on the lip of my wineglass. “Well, I'm not sure,” she said with a strained expression. “I love him, I guess. I mean I must, right? I think it has something to do with that Southern accent. I love the way he says baaaaby. Plus, he's amazing in bed. The things he can do with his dick.” A very large and greedy smile spread over her face. “My nine inches of nightly therapy.” “Jesus, more information than I needed to know.” I winced, looking up at her. “Well, as long as you have your priorities straight.” Nine inches of pain. I'd take one look at that thing and run out the room screaming. “Well, Christ, Julian.” Gabby threw her arms on the table. “I'm sorry we don't all fit into your fantasy ideal of true love and romance. Overall, I'm happy. What the fuck is love, anyway? What one person can decide that for everyone?” “Calm down, Stressetta. I wasn't attacking you.” I took another long drink. “No…not intentionally.” She eyed me suspiciously as she lit another cigarette. “You just have this way of looking down at people who don't conform to your ideals of true love.” “I do not!” “Yeah, you do,” she accused, setting her lighter back down on the table. “You don't mean to, I know, but subconsciously you do. Take Danny, for instance. Here's a man you've carried a secret torch for over the past year and, if you ask me, still aren't over.” She fired that last bit off and grinned all evillike. “The entire time you've come to me and bitched about these guys he

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occasionally brings home.” She held up her hand, cutting me off as if instinctively realizing I was about to protest. “Knowing the way you embellish, I'm assuming there weren't as many as you've led me to believe.” She enjoyed pegging me correctly as I huffed and sat back in my seat. “Instead of confronting him, telling him you have feelings for him, you just sit by, judging his every move. I think you're secretly pissed he's never come home and bent you over the kitchen table.” “That is so not true!” I folded my arms and sat back in my chair. “I don't judge him or anybody.” “You are so blind to your own faults.” She smiled. “You're a love bigot.” “That is ridiculous.” I reached over and swiped one of the cigarettes out her pack. “If you're happy merely spending the rest of your life with a penis, regardless of whom it's attached to, then I'm happy for you…honestly.” “See!” She pointed her finger at me. “Love bigot. You say you're happy for me, but on the inside you pity me for not holding out and waiting for something that you believe to be true. What do you think love is, anyway? And don't go giving me some glossed-over Hollywood definition. I want you to dig deep.” “I do not give Hollywood definitions,” I said with an indignant expression. “Oh, honey”—she signaled the waitress for another martini by lifting her glass and wiggling it in the air—“you can't help yourself. You're gay. Stop avoiding and answer me.” After a sigh for emphasis, I sat back in my chair and told her about a time back when she and I were both still working at the restaurant in college. One of the girls who'd been a regular at the bar had come in and brought this guy she worked with at the Nissan dealership. It was after my shift, and I was having a cocktail to wind down. They each sat at the bar next to me, and this guy and I started talking. His name was Rick, and we eventually made our way around to the topic of my fabulous gayness. Rick proceeded to tell me that his mother

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had run some boarding house or something when he was growing up. He said that she rented to a lot of gay men, and that he had just grown up around it. It seemed very natural to him. As the night went on, I found myself telling him all sorts of intimate details about myself, and he seemed to be doing the same with me. It was like something magical had happened. A switch had been flicked on, and we were instantly connected. As I told Gabby my story, our waitress came to the table and unfolded a tray stand before setting the tray she was carrying onto it. I smiled at the server as I leaned forward in my seat—as if that would prevent her from hearing what I was saying. “When Rick told me that he was married, and that his wife had just had a baby, I was hurt by the information.” I watched Gabby as she swapped glasses with the waitress, who set our salads down in front of us. “It was really strange to feel that attached to someone so quickly. Rick and I talked until the bar closed. I just knew somehow that if I'd asked him to come home with me, he would've.” “You slept with a married man?” Gabby asked. While she was shocked by the possibility of my having done such a thing, I could also sense she was a little glad thinking I'd done something so…well, so bad for lack of a better word. “I most certainly did not.” I picked up my dressing, which was, as requested, on the side. I drizzled it over my salad, being careful not to pour too much; I hate soggy lettuce. “I really wanted to sleep with him, but I would never.” “I guess that's something,” Gabby offered with a sigh before shoveling in a mouthful of lettuce. Not that she'd condone the act—but I smiled, knowing how happy I'd just made her by admitting that I'd been tempted.

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I told her how the next morning I couldn't get Rick out of my mind. It was like I was possessed with these thoughts of him. I went to the gym, where I pretended to work out. Then I went to the mall. As I walked into Pier One, I heard my name. I turned around, and it was Rick. He was visibly out of breath, and he told me he'd just run down the mall screaming out my name, trying to get my attention. I could see this look come over his face. Like he was both confused and embarrassed about why he'd just done such a thing. I knew at that point he had felt exactly the same thing. We each just sort of stood there nervously looking at one another. “I think even the girl behind the counter was staring.” I began to cut up my lettuce. “Wondering what the hell was going to happen next.” I stared out across the street for a moment, remembering those moments. “Well, what the fuck happened?” Gabby asked, startling me a bit. “Nothing. Rick said that he'd just wanted to say hi. I said hi. Then he turned around and left. I never saw him again after that.” “That's your definition of love?” Gabby asked, loudly clanking her fork into her plate as she stared at me. “To meet a married man and then never see him again.” “No, Gabby.” I picked up my glass and had another sip of wine. “That feeling, that connection I had—we had. That something had brought the two of us together. Like fate—we were supposed to meet. I swear, to this day I still think about him.” She sucked down the remainder of her second martini. “I don't see the happily ever after in this scenario.” “Maybe there wasn't supposed to be in that situation.” I shrugged and placed my wineglass back onto the table. “Maybe it was just life letting me know or experience what love is supposed to be like, so that when it does

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happen for real, with someone who is available, I'll recognize it. I'll know that it's love.” “You are truly fucked-up; do you know that?” Gabby shook her head. I shoveled in a forkful of salad. “I'm sorry I told you.” “Me too,” she said. “How depressing. I could eat a cow.” The waitress brought us our pasta and another round of drinks. We inhaled the food, and before she ran off to go back to work, Gabby promised to come by the loft after work and help me decide what to wear on my date.

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Chapter Four Although it was my first date in a long time, I'd certainly done enough dating in the past that one would think it no longer made me nervous. I was a dating pro. Hell, for a couple of years there, I was a machine, churning out dates right and left, like a Ford Motors assembly-line worker. For some reason, none of that seemed to relieve my anxiety. It's like those people who say if you go a certain amount of time without having sex, you become a virgin again. The prospect of dating felt that way to me. It was like starting all over. His name was Andy Baker. I'd met him at work two weeks before, on a Friday night. The Downspout, a fairly typical dance club, had a multilevel dance floor with more lights than an airport runway, and three separate bars. The whole design scheme was very blue-collar-industrial-butch—lots of commercial fixtures, stainless steel, dark colors, and metal scaffolding nailed down to anything that stood still. Two of the bars were next to the dance floor, and one, the one I generally worked at, sat off in a separate room filled with small tables—like a cocktail lounge. Although my bar wasn't as noisy as the dance side, the open archway between the two rooms still made it difficult to hear. You ended up screaming in order to talk to people. Many a night ended with me so hoarse that I sounded like Demi Moore. Gabby and her yawn of a boyfriend, Brad, were sitting at the bar, keeping me company while I mixed legal depressants for the clientele. Andy came up to the bar and stood, politely waiting while I ignored him and carried on a conversation with Gabby. When I finally acknowledged him, he said, “I'll take a dirty Stoli martini, two olives, please.”

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“A man after my own heart.” Gabby lifted her glass in his direction. Andy looked directly at me and smiled. “There's nothing quite like a good, stiff…drink.” “How dirty do you like it? The martini, that is.” I did my best to smile innocently. Andy laughed and gave me a quick wink. “Just a touch.” We introduced ourselves, and I introduced him to Gabby and Bran-Boy. Andy told us that he was a real estate agent and that he had just moved into town. “Would you be interested in maybe going out to dinner sometime?” Andy asked, making pointedly direct eye contact. “I…uh…well, um…” I was absently reaching for a martini glass and knocked over several. “That means yes,” Gabby said with a disgusted look in my direction. She reached down and rummaged through her purse and pulled out a pen. She snagged a cocktail napkin and scribbled down my phone number, then handed it over to Andy. Laughing nervously, I began to pull the lid off the shaker. It was stuck. “A free drink to whoever can get the lid off.” I slammed the shaker onto the bar. As I began to wait on the next person in line, people grabbed for the shaker. It's amazing what people will do for a free drink. After three failed attempts by men, Jackie, one of my favorite lesbians, shoved her way up to the bar. “Give it to me, ladies; Jules needs it sometime this year.” She popped the lid off, and I traded her the shaker for her drink of choice, a Miller Lite. Andy sat down next to Gabby, and the two of them talked for a while. I tried to eavesdrop, but the damn music was so loud, I couldn't really hear what she was telling him. Every now and then he'd look up at me and smile, nodding his head while Gabby whispered something in his ear. So, I never expected to

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hear from him again. Then, a week or so later, on Sunday, he called, and we made plans for this Friday-evening dinner. Andy seemed like a take-charge kind of guy. He said that he would make the reservations and pick me up at eight. He never asked my opinion, just made the decisions. I hate dealing with those details, so I was already impressed. I'd much rather be ready at the appropriate time and be whisked away without having to think about it or make any of the plans. Andy seemed like a man for whom it was worth taking off a Friday night. I offered to meet him at the restaurant as a test. When he insisted on picking me up, I knew. He didn't want to take the chance that he might not be invited back to my place at the end of the date, so he made sure he'd get to bring me home. Unless we didn't hit it off, he'd do everything possible to ensure he was in a position for an overnight invite or, at the very least, a kiss. This was a man who thought all options through.

***** I set the shopping bags down in my bedroom, then, realizing how late I was, ran back out to the kitchen to mix a pitcher of martinis. When I heard the knock on the door, I yelled, “Come on in!” “I'm here as promised.” Gabby walked through the doorway and tossed her purse onto the sofa table. “Let's get to work on your fashion emergency, and please tell me there will be some sort of liquid inspiration provided.” “Of course.” I slid the bottle of vodka out of the freezer. “I went shopping after lunch, so we have a fresh palette of clothing to choose from.” “Jesus, Julian,” she said, twisting a long red curl around her finger, “you have a walk-in closet packed with clothes, not to mention the armoire that's so full, the damn doors won't close.” “It's a first date.” I scowled. “I need virgin clothing. I see no reason to wear old clothes that may still have the bad juju from nightmare dates of the past. It might alter the outcome of this one.”

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“Where in God's name did you hear that load of bunk?” She went to the smokers' sill and lit a cigarette. “VH1's Behind the Music, Lenny Kravitz.” I snagged a couple of glasses out of the cupboard and walked around the island to head toward my bedroom. “That's why he cut off his dreads. They were filled with the bad aura from all the shit he'd done over the years.” “Do you actually believe all of the crap that comes out of your mouth?” Gabby hot-boxed a few quick puffs before tossing the butt into the jar and followed me into my room, shutting the door behind her. She flopped onto the bed in a very slumber-party sort of manner. “Ya huh.” I smiled. “I'm almost afraid to ask.” She crawled across the bed and poured herself a martini. “But exactly how much of your time is spent reading horoscopes and astrology love books and researching psychic phenomenon?” “Well,” I said, pulling the clothes out of their bags and hanging them up on the curtain rod, where they could be viewed from the front, “I never actually read any of that stuff. I believe in it, but I don't actually read about it. I just sort of go with what I see on TV and what I hear other people saying about it.” “That's worse than I thought.” She looked over the clothes. “Wait, you can't tell me that when you read the paper, you don't flip over and read the horoscope. That's no good,” she added, pointing to the clothes. “I'm going to have to see them on you.” “Well, sweetie.” I pulled off my pajama bottoms and cringed. “And don't take this the wrong way, but I don't actually read the newspaper.” “Funny,” she said, as I pulled the camel-colored suit off the hanger and began putting it on. It had tiny embroidered flowers, in a slightly darker shade of shiny thread, vining up one sleeve and down the back of the jacket. “I know you read the paper, because you always know what my articles are about.”

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“Well, Danny always reads the paper, so I just ask him what your articles are about.” Her mouth fell open, so I picked up the martini pitcher and refilled her glass. “Gabby, I'm sorry, but it's so depressing.” I began taking off the suit. “When I read the paper or watch the news, especially in the morning, I'm starting my day off on a negative foot. It's all murder-serial killermanslaughter-armed-robbery-tragic-car-death stuff.” “It is not.” Gabby sat up on the bed and crossed her legs. “Plus,” I continued with a serious expression and reached for the black pin-striped suit, “I wind up getting that ink stuff all over my hands. Then I end up touching my face and walking out the door without noticing it.” I stopped momentarily and looked at Gabby. “Why don't they do something about that stuff? They can clone a sheep, but they can't come up with a newspaper that doesn't get your hands all dirty?” “Who are you?” She stared blankly up at me. “The bulk of the stories in the paper are about current events and politics, things you need to know about what's happening in the country and around the world.” “I know, but let's face it.” I went on, as if stating the obvious. “People are sick. If I pick up the paper with the intention of only reading the undepressing stuff, I know I'll end up reading the sick stuff. It's like those horror movies.” I pointed at her while sliding off the black jacket. “When the person hears the noises coming from the dark room? You know they shouldn't go in, and they know they shouldn't go in, but hell if they don't go in anyway and end up with their intestines lying all over the floor.” I let the pants fall to the floor and kicked them out of the way as I reached for the gray suit and began putting it on. “We can't help it. As a society, we're drawn to the bad stuff.” “It's a good thing you're pretty.” She shook her head “I like the gray one; it gives one the impression that you're intelligent—and sane.” I took off the suit and pulled on my pajama bottoms. Gabby made me sit on the bed while she drilled current events into my head, stating that Andy

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probably wasn't the kind of man who would understand my position on the horrors of news and what it's doing to our society. Knowing that she was upset with me, I indulged her, though if Andy were to ask me if I read the newspaper, I wouldn't hesitate to tell him the same thing I told her. I'd been lied to enough in the past to know that pretending to be someone you aren't will only end in disaster. Gabby was going on and on, talking very slowly as if I might be damaged in the head. I held back the urge to explain to her that it wasn't that I'm incapable of understanding the news. I decided I'd ask Danny to cut out her articles, and I could at least read those. “What are you going to wear with the suit?” she asked with a mock-angst expression. “A shirt and tie…maybe a summer sweater?” “A black Gap T-shirt,” I said, getting up off the bed. “It was good enough for Sharon Stone and the Academy Awards; it's good enough for Andy Baker.” “Well, I'm going to get out of here and let you start getting ready.” She finished off the last of her martini. “Don't think for a minute that our newspaper discussion is over. I'll take this weekend to decide what your punishment for deceiving me will be, and we'll continue this at lunch on Monday.” “I thought having to listen to all that current events crap was my punishment.” I frowned, sticking out my lower lip. “Besides, you can't stay mad at me. We have too much history.” “No, no.” She shook her finger at me with an evil smile. “Nostalgia isn't going to get you out of this one, Julian. You will pay.” Laughing, I asked, “So what are you and Mr. Bran doing tonight?” “I think we're going to a movie. I'm not sure. At least he reads the fucking newspaper!”

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“That's his problem!” My eyes widened, and I pointed at her. “All of that bad news has clogged up his chakras, and that's why he's so dull. That boy needs a high colonic.” I swirled my hand around in the air in simulation. “Flush out his system.” “Your neurotic brain needs the enema.” She laughed at me. “Maybe you should consider Prozac?” She turned her head and tapped her finger on her cheek. “Knock me a little kiss.” I gave her a quick peck and walked her down to her car. “For Christ's sake,” she said, sliding into the seat of her Jeep, “go upstairs right now, find your keys, and put them next to the front door.” “Thanks,” I said with a smirk. As she pulled off, I waved and headed back upstairs. I walked through the front door and spied my keys on the island in the kitchen. Danny came out of his bedroom, startling me. He'd been gone when I got home from the mall, and I hadn't heard him come back.

Danny and I met the summer just before my last semester of school. I was in the student bookstore he owned, waiting impatiently in line while he was on the phone placing an ad in the paper for a roommate. I happened to overhear his conversation. I'd seen him at the bars a couple of times, so I knew he was gay…not to mention melt-in-your-mouth-and-in-your-hands hot. As I waited in line, I imagined that I'd move in with him, he'd become enamored with all my idiosyncrasies, beg me to never leave him—like anyone would—and we'd spend every night lying in front of the fireplace, Danny propped up on a pillow reading, me with my head on his stomach, content to lie back and watch as he read to me. Just like Barbra Streisand and Robert Redford in The Way We Were. When I got up to the counter, I handed him my book list. On the bottom, I had written:

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Gay White Male desperately seeking new living situation, as he is currently rooming with two drag queens who fight over things like who used the other's Aqua Net. Gay White Male swears that he is clean, unobtrusive, and will stay out of roommate's way…unless said roommate would prefer he not stay out of his way, in which case Gay White Male would be more than happy to get in his way. Help me, Obi-Wan, you're my only hope. Danny laughed and gathered up my books. Before ringing me up, though, he picked up the phone and called to cancel the ad. As if his physical being wasn't enough, he also rode a motorcycle, which gave me flashbacks to 90210—the first one. I had such a crush on Luke Perry. Danny's bike was a Kawasaki Vulcan something or other. It was big and black, with lots of shiny chrome. It had an extra seat on the back, and I desperately wanted to wrap my legs and arms around him and take a ride. But two things stopped me. One, I knew I'd have an instant boner, which would be difficult to hide pressing into his back, and two, my mother would kill us both. Danny's wardrobe consisted of nothing that hadn't been sold by Abercrombie or American Eagle Outfitters. He never exactly folded his clothes very neatly, so he always had this sort of rumpled charm about him. You couldn't look at the man and not get a little weak in the knees. Thanks to his job, he also always smelled like books, which was a major aphrodisiac. I don't know why, but I always get extremely aroused in bookstores and libraries. I love the smell of books.

Danny smiled, causing the wrinkles around his dimples to stretch, showing the slight maturity in his face. “You were busted for not reading her articles?” He was wearing dark gray sweatpants and one of the many ribbed wifebeaters he owned. If he had on a shirt at home, that would've been it. Damn, but he is sexy as hell. “Are the walls in this apartment really that thin? Oh wait, what am I thinking?” I scrunched up my face in faux orgasm as I headed over to the window. “Oh God… Oh, Danny, fuck me…yeah!”

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He laughed while walking into the kitchen. “I can't believe you're actually going out on a date. Does this guy know you're the downtown Pollyanna?” “Is that jealousy rearing its ugly head?” I asked, wishing I could kiss him…right before shoving him out a window. “What's the matter, you don't have one of your nubile tricks lined up for this evening?” “Thought I'd take a weekend off.” He rubbed his shoulders as he watched me sit on the windowsill and pick up my pack of smokes. “I'm still a little sore from the last one.” He opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. “Poor thing!” I lit my cigarette. “Well, you are like, thirty-four; it must be getting tough for you to keep up with the twenty-one-year-old crowd you run with.” “Hey,” he said with an all-too-serious expression, “if you're not sore the day after, then what was the point?” “Um…I don't know.” I was scratching my head while exhaling out the open window. “Maybe intimacy, spooning, kissing, and cuddling. If you stopped fucking long enough, you might find that all that can be more satisfying than ejaculation. Let's face it: a little Vaseline in the palm of your hand can accomplish that. Everything else requires another person.” The sarcastic smile faded from his face, and he shook his head a bit. “Well, Julie, I hope you have a nice time. I'll try to make myself scarce after eleven, just in case.” “Thanks!” I took another puff, waiting for the punch line. He turned and went back into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. I thought back, wondering if I'd actually said something to offend him. Maybe he didn't feel good? Maybe it was some new head game he was trying out? Pushing it from my brain, I snubbed out the ciggie and made for the shower.

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Chapter Five The door buzzer started going off, so I grabbed my keys off the counter and headed out the door. I took a few deep breaths as I went down the stairs. I came to the bottom, and Andy had his back to me. He spun around as I opened the door, and I felt my tummy flutter. Andy looked like a model for Ralph Lauren in a linen khaki suit with a crisp blue cotton shirt that made the color of his eyes jump out and scream Yes, these are the bluest eyes you've ever seen! Andy smiled, looking me up and down. “You look great.” There was something about his demeanor and the way he spoke. Andy looked you directly in the eyes as if to say You can trust me. I wondered if he was trustworthy. I bet he's a damn good real estate agent. I imagined he could talk clients into buying the most run-down, neglected money pit in town simply by looking at them and telling them it was their dream home. I was unable to keep myself from smiling back like a giddy schoolgirl who'd just spotted a Jonas brother. “You don't look too shabby yourself.” I shut the door behind me and followed him to his car, cursing his jacket, which prevented me from getting a better look at his ass. “So,” I asked, opening the passenger-side door to his silver Honda CR-V and sliding into the seat next to him, “are you going to tell me where we're going for dinner, or is it a secret?” Starting the car, he said, “No secret.” He smiled, showing me his bright white teeth. “I made reservations for us at Flappers. Gabby might have mentioned you didn't particularly enjoy messing with the details, and that I should just choose a place and take care of all the arrangements.”

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Damn, I love that girl! “Ah, so you've been doing your research. What else did Gabby tell you?” As Andy pulled the SUV away from the curb, I noticed his car looked and smelled newly detailed. I caught a slight whiff of vanilla, which, when mixed with his spicy cologne, smelled like heaven. “Not much, just that you're a lot of work, a little neurotic, and that you say whatever pops into your head.” He shifted gears and grinned. Damn, I hate that bitch! “Remind me to kick her ass, will you?” I sat back into the seat, a little irritated and surprised the poor guy had still bothered to show up. “She also said that if things work out between us, you'd be the best thing that ever happened to me, and I'd spend the rest of my life thanking God that I walked into the bar that night and asked you out.” “Like that's supposed to make up for it.” I was lightly drumming my fingers on the armrest. “Don't be pissed,” he said, laughing. “You end up going through a lot of shit with anyone you get involved with romantically. You know you have a good friend when she tells people you're worth all the trouble.” “I suppose.” I watched his hands on the steering wheel, wondering what they'd feel like on my skin. “But I'm in a little trouble with her, so with your permission, I'm going to pretend to be pissed about it. It may lighten my punishment.” “Dare I ask?” “Better not,” I said, watching him drive. “I'd prefer you not find out what a freak I am in the first five minutes.” He slowly drove along the downtown one-way street until we finally found a parking spot. As we entered the restaurant and walked up to the hostess station, the girl with blonde hair smiled and said, “Hello, Mr. Baker. Let's see.” She looked down, studying her book. The restaurant was fashioned after the speakeasies of the twenties. The exposed-brick walls were covered with deco-

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inspired artwork and vintage liquor posters. There was an ornately carved walnut bar that ran all the way along the back of the restaurant to a smaller room off the main dining area, and they had live jazz on Fridays and Saturdays. “Oh, here you are. Two for smoking this evening.” She looked up from the book with a warm smile. Andy smiled and nodded, and we followed her through the dining room and into the more-dimly lit bar area to our table. He noticed that I smoked, I thought. This was a man who paid attention to detail. I never would have thought to even ask if he smoked, had the situation been reversed. We sat down across from one another at the intimate square table. The hostess set down the menus and a wine list before politely excusing herself. Our waiter came over, and the three of us discussed the specials and bottles of wine. Andy decided on a filet with béarnaise sauce and sautéed mushrooms, and I chose the mahimahi with a pineapple-ginger salsa. The waiter suggested a merlot, which we both agreed would be fine. “So how do you like Merryville so far?” I asked, pulling a cigarette out and lighting it. “It's really beautiful,” he said, as the waiter returned with the bottle of wine and proceeded to uncork it. After tasting it, Andy nodded, and the waiter filled our glasses before retreating back to the bar. As Andy continued talking, I noticed that the smoke from my cigarette was heading right for his face, so I dropped my arm below the table. “The people are so nice here. Kinda gives it that small-town feeling.” Andy picked up his glass and leaned back into his seat. He began telling me some story about starting his new job, and I lifted my arm to take a drag. The sleeve of my jacket caught on the corner of the table, and I looked over to see that my cigarette had slipped out of my fingers and was sailing through the air as if in slow motion, spiraling and arcing upward like an Olympic diver, landing a few feet away on the wood floor. I felt my face

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begin to flush as I turned to look at Andy. He turned his face back away from the bar and looked at me, grinning. He didn't see it, I thought to myself. Sweet Jesus, he didn't see it. I smiled back and placed my elbow on the table, resting my chin in my hand. He continued to relate his experiences about settling into a new town and starting his new job, and I shifted my eyes to look down at the floor. Shit, it's still burning. Don't even, don't you dare… Damn it. It's burning the floor! I let out a little laugh, hoping I was doing it in an appropriate section of the story Andy was telling. I wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention to it, though. That is a risk restaurants take when they allow scummy smokers into their establishments. I'm sure someone will come along and step on it. “Julian?” Andy said, waving his hand in my face. “Huh… I'm sorry, what?” I asked, smiling. It is burning the floor; don't just sit there like trailer trash. “Am I boring you?” he asked. “God, no!” I got up and walked over, then picked up the cigarette. “It just slipped out of my hand.” I felt my face burning as I snuffed it out in the ashtray and sat back down. “I was wondering if you were going to pretend like that didn't happen.” He started to laugh. “I'm such a klutz sometimes.” I could feel the moisture begin to collect on my forehead. He caught me up in his gaze. “You're kinda adorable.” “It must be the lighting.” I laughed nervously. I picked up my wineglass and took a large gulp, feeling my nerves begin to fray. “So, are you looking for a relationship or just a little slap and tickle?” “Wow!” His eyes were twinkling in the candlelight. “You really do say whatever pops into your head.”

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“It's worse when I'm nervous,” I agreed, unable to tear my gaze away from his. “But ultimately this is something I'd rather find out as early as possible. I don't mean to sound curt, but if you're not heading in the same direction I am, we might as well find out right away. It saves my time and your money. Just kidding about the money part,” I tossed out for clarification. “Well, then.” He took a sip of wine. “If the right man came along, I'd be more than willing to enter into a relationship. And you?” “I am so racing past my expiration date,” I blurted out, wishing I could at the very least try thinking before speaking. Could I be any less sexy? “I mean, yeah, I'm really only interested in finding someone to settle down with. Not that I have a problem with the slap and tickle.” Argh…stop talking. Andy laughed at me. “Don't get me wrong. I love the slap and tickle. I just prefer slapping and tickling the same person over and over…on a more permanent basis…just that one person and me. Okay, I'm rambling. I'll shut up now.” “I think I get it.” Andy smiled as he tore off a piece of the bread the waiter had just dropped off. “You like to be spanked.” If the right person is doing the spanking… “Funny,” I said, daring to light another cigarette. “It's just that I'm not getting any younger, and I'm really not into that whole geriatric love scene, so I'm hoping to find someone before actually needing Viagra.” Andy shot me a half smile. “So you wouldn't date someone who isn't looking for a relationship as well?” “Yeah, pretty much.” “Okay, now I'm curious.” He was scratching his chin as he leaned forward across the table a bit. “What happens if you go out with a guy who doesn't know whether or not he wants to be in a relationship?” I leaned forward as well, imitating Andy's move, causing a large grin to spread across his face. Our eyes fell into a gaze, and I cleared my throat as

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flashes of Andy's mouth on my neck filtered through my mind. “I'd think he was a liar and never return his phone calls.” “How do you expect someone who's never been in a relationship to know whether or not it's something he wants?” My entire body went on alert mode as I felt his fingers lightly grazing my knee under the table. I wondered if he could read my thoughts as I tried to picture him naked. “That's what my roommate, Danny, says, but I knew I wanted one before I'd ever been in one.” We stared at one another, each grinning as tingles ran all over my body from his touch. I knew one thing for sure: he was totally picturing me naked. I felt as if a heat was radiating across the table at me as I picked up my water glass and took a quick drink. “I think he uses that as an excuse because he's not capable of being monogamous.” “So you make no allowances for someone who may truly not know what he wants?” Andy asked, breaking our gaze and sitting back in his chair. “Indecision is a definite turnoff.” I flicked my cigarette in the ashtray, feeling as if I'd practically just had sex. The waiter showed up with our food, and we exchanged stories about our families. He'd grown up with a large family, the youngest of six. He told me about his three older brothers, with whom he had great relationships. His two sisters were another story. The younger of the two was practically his best friend in the world, while his older sister didn't care for his…lifestyle. His parents were none too pleased that their youngest son was gay, but Andy said they were doing their best to try to understand. He was proud of them for that. I told him about my parents. My mother, who just wanted me to settle down, was heavily involved in her local chapter of PFLAG. Then there was my father, who seemed only concerned with constantly reminding me to be sure to get a prenup…as if I had anything worth taking away.

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“Do you want children?” I asked while having a culinary orgasm from my mahimahi. “I love kids. I'd love a big family, at least three or four.” I was thinking two, but I guess I could bend on that one. Almost laughing at the silliness of the question, I threw out, “Are you a Republican?” “Yes.” He nodded while cutting off a chunk of steak. “You?” I knew this was too good to be true…serves me right for making dumb-ass assumptions. “I'm kind of a leftist Democrat.” Gay Republicans are as pointless as reality television. Better lay off the politics. “We sound like the tagline for some gay-romance novel.” Andy laughed a little as he took another bite. I didn't particularly find any amusement in the situation, but I smiled as if to play along. “And we all know how those end.” Andy took a sip of water as he seemingly burst his way through the walls I was beginning to construct. “Who knows, Julian? Perhaps we'll get our very own happily ever after.” I smiled as I took a bite of my fish. I shook my head at him, knowing he was teasing me and kind of liking it. Some part of me realized I should've been nervous or anxious, but without putting too much thought into the question, I blurted out, “So, got any exes who're gonna show up in a month or so and try to off me?” Andy smiled as he finished swallowing. “I've really only had the one relationship. Sam and I met back in college. We dated for just over a year.” Sam…stupid name, I hate him already. I knew Andy was about my age, though I doubted he went to school for quite as many years as I had, which meant it had been a long time since he'd had a steady. “Sam got a job offer in Boston after graduation and left.” Andy looked over at me thoughtfully. “He asked if I wanted go with him, but I felt like he was only offering out of some sort of obligation.”

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“Sorry,” I said, feeling a little sad for the man across the table. He seemed quite genuine discussing the topic. I could sense that while there were still fond memories for this Sam idiot, Andy didn't appear to still be in love with him. Smokin' hot and completely unattached? Bonus! Andy pointed at me with his fork. “What's that smile all about?” I felt the tiniest bit embarrassed, since I hadn't realized I'd been smiling. I felt my face scrunching up as I looked at him. “Nothing…just feel a bit like I won the man-lotto.”

As we finished up our dinner, Andy told me about his life now, spending most of his time working, going to the gym, and partying with friends, all the same old, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. “So what about you?” Andy asked. “No great loves to speak of?” I cleared my throat and said in my lowest-of-low husky voice as I looked across the table seductively, “Not until now.” Andy started to laugh as he sat back in his chair. I shrugged. “Not really, I mean… Well, yeah. I at least thought I was in love once or twice. Just never seemed to work out.” Our waiter removed all the remnants of dinner, and despite already being a little lit, I ordered a Tia Maria and coffee. Andy ordered a B&B and a cigar, which I found extremely hot. Maybe he isn't, like, a huge Republican? Maybe he's just confused? Maybe he hasn't realized that they hate gay people? He's smoking a cigar; I've always wanted to be with someone who smokes cigars. Unable to stop myself after the three glasses of wine, I asked, “So how do you feel about gay marriage?” “I'm for it.” He was turning and puffing his cigar as he lit it. “Maybe someday I can ask you to marry me?” Obviously teasing me again, he was now sporting a huge, sexy smile as he took a sip from his snifter.

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“Is that, in your opinion, something you see the Republican Party ever condoning?” I asked, blushing from his previous comment. “No, I suppose not.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “But Republicans, unlike Democrats, aren't trying to give all of my tax dollars to people who'd rather sit back and have kids as opposed to getting a job and helping themselves.” God forbid we give any money to the underprivileged. He probably thought Reagan was a good president. I pictured him snatching money out of the hand of a little crack baby. Meanie. I'm on a date with Scrooge! I looked across the table, feeling my anxiety grow. He does look awfully good with that cigar, though. I closed my eyes and flushed all the yucky, bad thoughts out of my head, so that all I could see when I opened them was a hot man holding a cigar and a brandy snifter. Ahhh…much better. I smiled as I concentrated on his full lips, becoming mesmerized as they wrapped around the thick cigar. Andy held out the cigar. “This isn't bothering you, is it?” “No, sir,” I offered absentmindedly as a huge grin spread over Andy's face. I blinked a few times and sat up, feeling my cock begin to twitch. I cleared my throat and tried to remember what I'd just said. “I mean…of course not. I'm a smoker.” My hand fumbled over the table for my pack of smokes. I was unable to tear my gaze away from his face, and the things his eyes were saying to me… Let's just say I felt dirty…and I liked it.

***** We hadn't said too much on the drive back from the restaurant, and I'd begun to hope Andy wouldn't be too great a kisser. I'd made the decision before the date that I was not going to have sex with him, regardless of how well dinner went. It felt like I'd always jumped into bed too soon in the past, and I wasn't going to make that mistake this time. But the heat radiating between the two of us was palpable, and I desperately wanted to put out the fire.

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Sitting in his car outside of my apartment, he said, “I had a really great time this evening.” “Same here.” I smiled back at him. “You seem like a really nice guy.” “Oh, I'm nice.” He leaned in a little closer. “I'm really nice.” I laughed as I leaned in a little closer. “Is that so?” He let out a low moan before leaning the rest of the way over and pressing his lips onto mine. I opened up my mouth for his tongue. Chills trickled down my spine, slowly making their way between my legs. Our kiss had just the right mix of gentle sucking and light licking, yet Andy maintained a forcefulness that let me know he was in control. I could overlook bacne from a man who kisses like this, so I could sure overlook his fucked-up political beliefs. When he began to lightly suck on my lower lip, I pulled away, sure that if I didn't, I'd rip his clothes off right there. “Can I come up for a little bit?” he asked, wide-eyed with a half smile. “I don't think so.” I was breathing a little heavier than I wanted him to see as I tried to regain my will and composure. I backed up, fumbling for the door handle. “If I let you upstairs and you kiss me like that again, I'm going to end up being a slut.” “I like sluts,” he said in an earnest, almost reverent tone. “I don't.” I found the door handle. “I'll call you tomorrow,” he said as I opened the car door and slid out of the seat. I attempted to conceal the bulge in my pants by pulling my suit coat around my waist and folding my arms. “You'd better.” I turned and practically ran for the door. He pulled away as I dug the keys out of my pocket. Generally, I liked a guy who stuck around long enough to be sure I made it safely into my house before speeding off. It tended to make me feel they cared for my wellbeing. Fortunately for Andy, that kiss had put him way back over the top.

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“Men who kiss like that should come with a warning label,” I said out loud as I climbed the stairs. I closed the door behind me as I entered the loft. I walked into the kitchen and tossed my keys on the island. I opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. Slowly, almost dreamily, I made my way into the living room, taking off my jacket. I threw it haphazardly onto the back of the couch and flopped onto the sofa. Humming some song I couldn't quite remember the lyrics to, I reached back and fished my smokes out of my jacket. I heard the bathroom door open and turned around to see Danny heading to his bedroom. “Back already?” He looked around to make sure no one else was in the room. “It's almost midnight.” I pulled myself up and headed for the window that overlooked the street in front of the building. “You didn't invite him up?” he asked with an expression that I would've sworn was relief if I hadn't known better. “Of course not,” I said, as if the thought had never crossed my mind. “Did you have a good time?” He was standing in place, arms folded as if he were the gatekeeper to the bathroom. “God, yes.” I closed my eyes, feeling the alcohol make my head all swimmy. I opened up the window and inhaled the crisp night air before lighting a cigarette. “He's great, I'm great… We're great. I'm almost afraid I'm going to wake up at any minute to find that it was all a dream.” “That good, huh?” Danny raised an eyebrow as a big-brother expression appeared over his face. “Well, people seldom act like themselves on a first date.” “Oh, Danny, honestly.” I took a drag. “I had a really good time. Please don't pee all over it.”

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“I wasn't. I just…uh… I'm glad you had a good time.” Danny walked over and sat down on the arm of the sofa. “Say, um…what are you doing on Sunday night?” “I don't know. I hadn't thought that far ahead. Why?” “They're having a reading of Love! Valour! Compassion! on campus. I bought a couple of tickets, and I wanted to see if you'd be interested in going with me.” “Who canceled on you?” I asked, smiling. “No one!” He looked at me, shaking his head. “We haven't done anything together in a long time, and I thought this would be something we'd both enjoy.” “Oh.” I felt a little guilty for assuming I was once again his last-chance Charlie. “Well, sure, I'd love to. That does sound fun.” I put out my smoke and closed the window. “You know, just when I think you're a complete ass, you go and do something like this. Makes me feel guilty for all the nasty things I'd been thinking about you.” “So you do have nasty thoughts about me,” he said with a naughty grin. I walked up to him. “I knew you were hot for me.” “Let's not get carried away.” I yawned as I raised my hands, stretching. “You have enough men in and outta here. We practically need a revolving door.” Danny jumped up off the arm of the sofa with a disappointed look on his face. “I do not bring that many guys home.” “I was just kidding!” I put my hands in the air to signal I surrendered. “Jeez, Sally Sensitive, calm down.” “Well, Julie”—he seemed to settle back down and smirked—“you could make an honest man out of me and put a stop to all of that.” “Funny.” I reached over and stuck my finger into one of his dimples. As I twisted my finger, I made a faux squeaking sound. “You're such a tease.”

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He smiled and swatted my hand away from his face. “Protest all you want.” Danny took a step forward, now only inches away. “I know deep down you want me.” He winked, reached up and tweaked one of my nipples, and turned to go into his bedroom. As I stood there, mouth hanging open, I wondered if he knew that he could devastate me with just a wink, sending me into an abyss of eroticneurotic turmoil. It was just plain cruel to give one man so much sex appeal. If only, I thought. If only.

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Chapter Six Walking into the apartment, I led Andy by the hand through the door. I closed the door behind us, and he pinned me up against it, kissing me roughly. He ran his hands up my stomach and chest, and they made their way up under my jacket, causing it to slide off my shoulders and crumple onto the floor. Andy placed his hands in mine and led me over to the couch. Turning me around, he shoved me back, then smiled as he climbed on top of me. Andy kissed me passionately, thrusting his tongue into my mouth. I closed my eyes, and a muffled moan grumbled from his throat. I could feel his hard cock grinding into mine as he ripped his mouth away from mine. I opened my eyes to see Danny lying on top of me, smiling. He lowered his head to kiss me as the phone began to ring.

I opened my eyes and sat straight up in my bed. I felt the immediate throbbing in my head as I placed my hand onto my temple. I winced as the cell phone next to my bed rang again. I reached over to pick it up, making a promise to myself to take the time to figure out how to change the settings. I'd had the damn smartphone for three weeks and still couldn't seem to figure out how to change the volume, let alone the ringtone. I noticed a glass of water and a bottle of Advil sitting on the nightstand. I couldn't remember putting them there. Danny must have—Christ, was I mashing on Danny in my dream? The phone rang again, interrupting that thought. I punched the little green button. “Whoever you are, please tell me I'm dead.” I rubbed the palm of my hand over my forehead and began to massage my skull.

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“Sorry, sunshine,” Gabby said. “Did you party a little too hard?” “Apparently…wine is evil.” After reaching for the pill bottle, I began to fumble with the childproof lid. I scowled as the pills rattled around, taunting me. “Well at least you had the foresight to put aspirin next to the bed.” “That's just it. I don't remember doing that. And it's Advil, wait… How the hell do you know what's next to my bed?” I looked around my room, wondering where the hidden camera was. “I can hear you rattling the bottle around, nitwit.” “Oh…well, I remember going to my room, taking off my clothes, and crawling into bed.” “Were you alone?” she asked. “Of course. Danny must have put it here before he left for the gym.” I lifted myself up, turning a couple of pillows on their sides, and leaned back into them, propping myself up against the headboard. “Look at that.” “Hellooo. On the phone. Can't see what you can.” “I think he even hung my clothes up. That's kinda sweet.” I looked at the slightly rumpled gray suit dangling neatly on a hanger from the door handle of the armoire. “I hate gay men. Brad is such a slob. He'd never do that.” “Hello, pot, meet kettle.” I smiled to myself. She was getting irritated; through the phone I could hear her tapping a pen on her notepad. “You're not exactly Martha Stewart, dear.” “I work all day,” she said. “He's always home.” “I'm not one to defend Bran Boy, but he works at home.” I tossed four Advil into my mouth and downed them with a mouthful of water. “Please,” she said, still tapping away. “He's a book-jacket editor. He gets to lie around and read all day. He can't take thirty minutes and straighten the place up?”

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“I suppose so.” I wasn't really interested in pursuing Brad any further. Just as I was beginning to get irritated from her tapping, it suddenly stopped. “How was the date? I want all the dirt.” “It was great.” I took another large gulp of water. “He was really sweet. Despite the fact that someone told him I'm a high-maintenance pain in the ass.” “News flash…like I really pulled a skeleton out the closet with that one. Besides, I'm pretty sure he got a little gleam in his eye when I told him that. I think he likes a challenge.” “Well, thank you, but I'm a person, not an extreme sport. You make me sound like bungee jumping.” “Quit bitching and tell me what happened. I swear, stop acting like a little old lady and get to the good stuff. Is he a good kisser?” I gave her the play-by-play from the cigarette fiasco to the hot man-onman action in the front seat of his car. I laughed a little when she gasped as I mentioned the Republican thing. I ran my fingers over my lips and grinned. “But he sure knew how to use those lips. I swear, I wanted to drag him upstairs to see what else he could do.” “You should have,” she said. “I can't believe you didn't probe any further than that. You aren't exactly Julie Andrews, you know. Just think. If you had invited him up and let him wrap those full lips of his around Little Julian, you'd be singing 'My Prick Is Alive With the Sound of Grunting.'” “Okay, Danny.” I rolled my eyes as I laughed. “Jesus, a boy has to have some principles.” “Sure,” Gabby said, “and what are you left with the next morning with your precious principles? A case of blue balls and a hangover. If you wanted to invite him up for sex, you should have. You act like sex is something naughty and shameful. It isn't healthy to deny your desires.”

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“Thank you, Dr. Ruth. Would it make you feel better to know that I masturbated before passing out?” “I always say, 'Why do something yourself if you can get someone else to do it for you?' I'm surprised you don't think that choking the chunky monkey makes you cheap. Were you thinking about Andy when you were stroking yourself to sleep?” “Yeah,” I said. “What's your point, Nosy Nora?” “I don't see a whole lot of difference between sleeping with someone and imagining yourself sleeping with someone while you beat off. Either way you start out with the same desire and end up with cum all over your stomach. The only difference is that, your way, you ended up doing all the work yourself.” I began to laugh, cursing her under my breath as my head began to throb more. “Well, thanks for the rundown of fornication dos and don'ts, or in your case, fornication dos. Besides, my way was quicker. If you don't mind, I'd like to get back to sleep.” “Fine, prissy,” she said, sounding a little huffy. “Quicker. I pity the man who ends up with your…repression!” I chuckled again. “Not so loud, please.” “By the way, I'm throwing a dinner party Wednesday night. You can bring Andy and Danny. The man you're already in love with and the man you'll make yourself fall in love with. Then I'll be able to torture you all night by saying inappropriate things.” “Ignoring you,” I said. “If we don't make it out tonight, I'll see you at lunch on Monday.” “Good night.” “Good morning.” She somehow felt the need to remind before cutting me off. I looked at the clock and whimpered when I saw it was only ten thirty. Curse you, Gabby. I rolled over and settled back down into the bed. “Repressed

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indeed. I'm not repressed; I'm just sexually challenged,” I mumbled. I wrapped my legs and arms around my body pillow, and giving it a squeeze, I looked at the pillow. You're the only man I need. I closed my eyes and began to drift off.

***** I finally drug my ass out of bed around one thirty with no sign of a headache but with a fierce case of I'm-so-hungry-I-want-to-eat-everything. As I perused the cabinets and refrigerator, laziness prevailed, and I settled for a bowl of Honeycombs. I picked up the bowl with one hand, and I shoved the spoon into my mouth with the other, then grabbed my cell off the counter and made my way to the sofa. I snatched up the remote, clicked on the television, took a bite of cereal, and began checking the phone for any missed calls. Now, that's what I call multitasking. I'd turned my phone off after Gabby's call, and there were three missed calls. The first name and number that popped up was the one I was hoping would be there. I moved the remote from my lap to the coffee table and shoveled in another spoonful of cereal as I hit Redial. It rang several times before I heard a click and, “Hello, gorgeous.” “Good morning.” I smiled as I stabbed my spoon into the bowl of cereal. “Are you psychic, or do you have me programmed already?” I listened as Andy chuckled. “Oh, you're programmed, baby. And I hate to break it to you, but it's hardly morning.” “Did you sleep okay?” I asked. I was trying my best not to crunch too loudly, but I was too hungry to stop eating like a polite person should. “Alas, no,” he said. “I tossed and turned all night. I went on this really great date last night, but the guy—well, he got me all worked up and then sent me on my way.” “Sounds like a keeper to me!” I was grinning through another bite. “Who was this pillar of strength and respectability?” I asked, mumbling through a mouthful of Honeycombs.

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“Oh, just some bartender I tried to pick up one night. I thought all gay bartenders were supposed to be ecstasy-popping, Crown Royal-guzzling nymphos who were always ready to par-tay.” “Dude, I must've been absent that day during bartender orientation. My bad.” I crossed my legs and pulled them up under me. “What time did you get up?” “Seven thirty. I had to show some clients a couple of houses this morning.” “How'd it go?” “Going,” he corrected, “and thus far, no sale. It's a young couple, just married—very sweet first-time home buyers. They're following me in their car. Your basic subdivision nightmare, clad in khaki. They're like my sisters' paper dolls—which I always wanted to play with when I was a little boy. They have this sort of painted-on-happy look.” “Stepford heteros.” I nodded. “Something like that. I've been showing them houses for weeks. The only thing I can imagine to be more difficult than selling them a house is getting you to trust me. What the hell are you eating?” “Sorry,” I said through my crunching. “Cereal. And as with all things worth having, if you're persistent and you put your whole heart into it, you'll end up getting everything you desire.” I started to laugh over my own cheesiness, and Andy seemed to agree, laughing as well. “Of course, divulging things such as your paper-doll fetish certainly makes you seem all the more attractive.” “Cute. I will not be ridiculed. I have to go… Pulling up to another house to show. I know you're working tonight, but I wanted to see if you'd come to my house Sunday night. I thought I could order us some dinner and rent a couple of movies?” “Sounds good, but I already have plans on Sunday. Monday?” I asked.

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“Hmm, Monday one of my business networking groups is having a meeting. How about Tuesday?” “Tuesday I'm wide open,” I said. “Really? That's very good to know,” he said with a flirty tone. “That's not exactly what I meant, dirty—Oh crap. I'm also supposed to invite you to Gabby's on Wednesday. She's having a dinner party that I'll end up doing all of the cooking for.” “Okay, I really have to go. If I don't talk to you tomorrow, I'll ring you Monday with directions and a time. Any particular movies you'd like to see?” “I'm sure whatever you pick will be fine.” “A little voice tells me I better get this one right. And just so you know…it's killing me to not ask who your plans are with on Sunday night.” I smiled, loving that he'd not only felt it but also admitted to it. I decided to leave that comment and stick to the flirty side of things. “Hearing voices. So not a good sign; I'd get that checked out.” “Well, Tuesday you can give me a thorough examination.” I laughed, setting my bowl down onto the coffee table. “Good-bye, Onetrack McGee.” “Ciao.” “Sick.” I smiled as I set the phone next to me on the sofa. I snatched up the remote and the TV Guide and settled into the sofa for an afternoon of couch commando. As I scanned the TV programming possibilities, the phone began to ring. Absently reaching over, I picked it up and pressed the Talk button, cradling the phone between my ear and shoulder. “Hello,” I said. “I wanna lick your pussy,” a voice said in an obviously fake gruff tone. “Who is this?” I smiled.

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“The man who's going to pin your legs back and fuck you like the whore you are, bitch.” “Excuse me?” My mouth fell open a bit as I began to feel my face flush. I checked the display on my cell phone and saw UNKNOWN NAME/UNKNOWN NUMBER. “I want to spread you open and lick your pussy,” the gruff voice spit out. It was now apparent that this was not a friend playing a joke. “Well, that will be difficult, seeing as I don't have a pussy.” “Huh,” he said, voice cracking. “Of course, if you'd like to wrap your lips around my big, juicy cock…” I started laughing when I heard the click on the other end of the line. People always assumed I was a woman when I answered the phone. I loved it when telemarketers called the loft looking for Danny. I'd tell them he wasn't home, and they'd inevitably ask if I were Mrs. Wallace. I, of course, said yes and then did my level best to keep them on the phone for as long as I could. Constantly interrupting, I'd ask idiotic questions while they tried to give their big sales pitch. I seriously needed a life. I set the phone down, and it immediately began ringing again. I rolled my eyes and snatched up the phone. “Listen, you sick fuck. I don't have a pussy, and if I did, I'm pretty certain you'd be the last person I'd let anywhere near it.” “Julian!” “Mom?” I pulled the phone away and cringed as I looked at the display. Would it have killed me to take two seconds to check the caller ID? “What a truly distasteful way to answer the phone.” She was near hysterics. “Have you been hanging around your father again?” “No, Mom, there was a prank phone caller; I thought he was… Never mind, I'm sorry.” Good Christ, someone shoot me.

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“Prank phone call or not, that is a disgusting, vulgar way to talk. If he calls back again, you just hang up. I don't want my baby speaking that way.” “I'm twenty-eight years old, Mother. There are no longer any dirty words I haven't heard or used at this point.” “Well, it's never too late to better yourself as an individual. I did not raise my son to communicate in such a manner. I can't believe I just heard my little baby using the P word.” Her voice was practically back to normal now. “Mom, I said I was sorry. What's going on? Why are you calling? Is everything all right?” “Aside from your potty mouth, everything is fine. I was calling to let you know that I'm flying in on Tuesday. I wanted to see you, so I thought I'd come up for four or five days. You haven't used the credit card I gave you for several months, so I'm a little worried about you.” “I told you I was going to try not to.” Does no one listen to me? “I know, darling, but I didn't think you were serious.” “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I used it to buy some suits the other day.” “Really,” she said excitedly. “Does that mean you're trying to get a real job?” “No, Mom, it means I had a date and I wanted to look nice.” I spied my smokes on the windowsill and got up off the sofa. “Was it with Danny?” Oh Christ, here we go. “Of course not. Don't be ridiculous.” “Julian, why do you always insist on making things more difficult for yourself than they have to be? You are living with a handsome, charming, available man who owns his own business and is financially secure. You need look no farther than the next room, yet you run around exhausting yourself looking for I don't know what.”

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I took a deep breath before lighting my cigarette. “Mom, I know how much you love Danny, but that doesn't mean that I do, and why do you automatically assume that he sits at home pining away for me while I go out looking for men?” I opened the window and took a seat, exhaling dramatically. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe he isn't interested in me?” “Whatever you say, dear. Can you pick me up from the airport at two?” “Of course.” She began firing off the flight information, and I quickly ran into the kitchen to scribble it down. I was silently praying Danny didn't come home and catch me with a lit cigarette outside the tiny area he'd been generous enough to allow me to smoke in. I dashed back to the window and then, as usual, lost the argument over where she'd stay. Mom always refused to stay in the loft for some reason. I conceded the losing battle quickly, telling her I'd set up her hotel reservation for her, and we said our good-byes. After hanging up, I wondered why it was that she would think Danny was the man for me. My mother was one of those people who adopted others. She had a heart large enough to fit the entire world inside, and she'd certainly sectioned off a large portion for Danny, whose mother had died when he was four. Danny absolutely adored my mother. He doted on Delilah every time she visited. Whenever she called, he'd end up talking to her for hours. Danny's father and siblings pretty much told him they didn't want anything to do with him after Danny came out of the closet, so my mother sort of adopted him. He'd be downright giddy when he found out she was visiting. Delilah had a whole lot of opinions and didn't think twice about sharing them. It was one of the things I'd always loved most about her, despite not always acting like it. Growing up, I never heard her say so much as a cross word about anyone. Well…except Dad and his mother. At the same time, she had no problems standing up for what was right. When I was about ten years old, one of my father's business partners was over

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at our house. He'd made some type of racist comment or joke, and she stood up, looked him directly in the eye and said, “I realize that I cannot control your personal beliefs or what you say in your own home, but I certainly will not stand for you coming into this one and infesting myself, my child, and my other guests with your ignorance and bigotry.” The entire room went silent. It was one of those moments where people begin to squirm in their seats. The man, of course, stumbled through an apology that she graciously accepted. She then smiled and got the conversation going again. It was at that moment that I realized how strong and unafraid my mother really was. Underneath her Doris Day-like exterior hid a rock-hard Bette Davis interior upon which she drew when it came to divorcing my father. I believe the phrase “she took him to the cleaners” certainly applied to my parents' divorce. It wasn't that my father was horrible to my mother; I suppose they just weren't a good match. Dad was very composed and introspective, and Mom…well, wasn't. She wore her heart on her sleeve, and her sweet-as-pie exterior tended to make people sympathize with her. I let out a long sigh as I put out my smoke and sealed it up in the mason jar I kept sitting out on the ledge. Despite being a little breezy, the temperature was nice, so I left the window open and went back to the sofa. Finally I was able to flop down, root myself into the cushions, and veg.

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Chapter Seven “Hi,” I said, trying to wipe the tears off my face as Danny walked in. “Why are you crying?” Danny asked, tossing his keys onto the kitchen counter. I pointed to the television. “Anne of Green Gables.” He looked at the television, then back at me with a questioning expression. “Matthew just gave Anne a dress with puffed sleeves so she could go to the ball with her bosom friend Diana Berry.” I managed to get the words out as I tried to pull myself together. Danny slid off his jacket and crooked his head to the side with a little grin. “She was so happy that she went out to the barn to thank him, and when she went to hug him,” I said, tears welling up all over again, “he stopped her, saying he didn't wanna get the dress all dirty. She looked at him in this way; well, you just knew how much they love each other.” “You're a mess,” he declared as he took a few steps closer. I watched his mouth fall open as I followed his gaze, now able to spot the half-eaten bags of Hershey Kisses and Reese's peanut butter cups, the pile of Little Debbies, and the multiple cans of Diet Coke littering the coffee table. He looked back at me where I sat cross-legged on the couch with what was, I'm sure, still bad bed hair and tears running down my face. “You look like the poster child for depression.”

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“This is such a great movie.” I popped in another Kiss, only to spit it back out into my hand. I'd forgotten to remove the foil. I turned my attention back to the television as I proceeded to unwrap the chocolaty goodness. I listened as Danny walked back into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. After several moments he came back and sat next to me on the sofa. He kicked off his shoes, opened his bottle of water, removed the pile of Kisses from my hand, and pushed all the junk food back out of my reach. He placed his feet up on the coffee table and leaned back. “You're just a big gush ball.” He placed his arm around me, pulling me back against his chest. I settled into him and wiped my nose on his shirt. “You're so nice sometimes.” “It's the only way I can keep you from eating any more of that crap.” He slapped my hand away as I reached out to snag a stray Kiss that had escaped from the bag. When the movie was over, I rolled onto my back and looked up at him. “Anne sure was blind when it came to Gil; she's the one who needed to be smacked over the head with a chalkboard.” “Huh?” “Oh, you missed that part. Well, it was completely obvious to everyone but Anne that Gil was in love with her.” I scowled as I tried picking at the dried mucus on his shirt. “You left a little trail,” he said, laughing. “It looks like a snail crawled down my shirt.” “Sorry.” I scrunched up my face. Danny swatted me on the hip. “It's after eight. You better get into the shower, or you'll be late for work.” “Shit!” I turned to look at the clock. I pulled myself up and dashed into my bedroom. I stripped off my pajamas and threw on my terrycloth robe, then tied

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the belt around my waist. I walked back out into the living room as Danny was gathering up the food from the coffee table. “I'll do that.” “It's okay. Get in the shower. I don't mind.” He smiled up at me devilishly. “You sort of didn't quite get the bathrobe wrapped all the way around.” I glanced down and felt my face burn crimson as I scrambled to cover myself. “Good Christ!” I headed for the bathroom and stopped. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Mom called earlier, and she's flying in on Tuesday.” “That's great,” he said, his face lighting up. “And Gabby's having a dinner party on Wednesday night. She wants me to invite you. She also asked me to bring Andy, and since Mom is going to be here, I thought maybe she could be your date?” “I'd be honored.” He gave me a nod. “So Andy will get to meet her. That's great.” “Yeah, I was supposed to have dinner with him Tuesday night, but I guess I'll need to cancel that.” “Don't be silly. I can take Delilah to dinner and maybe a movie or something.” “I hate to not spend her first night in town with her.” “Well, wait until she gets here and ask her if she minds,” Danny suggested. “You can always call and cancel if you don't feel right about it after.” “I guess you're right. And thanks for cleaning that up. I'll give the apartment a good scrubbing tomorrow.”

***** After getting out of the shower and toiling over the decision of what to wear to work, I finally dressed and tore out into the living room to begin the search for my keys. I yelled out and asked Danny if he'd seen them, only to find that he was gone. I tried not to think about where he he'd gone, and finally discovered my keys on the floor next to the island.

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Before running out the door, I took one last glimpse in the mirror. My spandexy pullover and low-waist jeans looked practically painted on. I rolled my eyes a bit and shook my head. As ridiculous as I thought it all was, I knew that my tips increased the tighter my clothes were. I was a little over five minutes late by the time I got to work, so I slipped in and began setting up my station, hoping no one would notice. If anyone did, they didn't mention it. By eleven, the bar was packed, and there was no sign of Gabby, which meant she wouldn't show. The dance floor was full of sweaty, pulsating bodies, asses shoved into crotches in faux sex, leaving zero to the imagination as to what the bulk of these boys would be up to after the bar closed. The music was bumping and thumping, and despite the air-conditioning, the heat level had reached the point where shirts were beginning to come off. It was something I'd found very distracting when I started working at the Downspout, but I'd become a little desensitized to it. I was somewhat convinced, though I lacked the actual proof, that the owner kept the air turned up intentionally in order to get as many guys shirtless as possible. I rang up the drinks I'd just made, and handed back the change. The guy didn't tip, so when he turned his back, I screamed, “Cheap!” in a shrill, highpitched voice. The guy spun around, and his face went beet red when he noticed that everyone around the bar was laughing. I laughed as he scurried off into the crowd. Just one of the many services I provided at the Downspout. Customer service was my middle name. That's what I loved about tending bar at a gay bar. You got away with things you never could anywhere else. The little turd should stay home if he couldn't afford to tip. I had bills to pay too. I went over to the next person standing in line and found a blond guy wearing a red button-up shirt. He looked a tad tipsy, and I took a slight step back as he stuck out his tongue and made like he was licking the air while running his gaze up and down my body.

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The freaks are out tonight. “What can I get you?” I asked, raising one eyebrow, afraid of what his answer might be. “Rum and Coke.” He stuck his tongue back out while making the same weird-ass licking motion. I went about making his cocktail, trying my best to not look at him. I reminded myself to not think mean thoughts. Maybe he was a little…slow? I placed the drink on the bar and said, “That'll be four twenty-five.” Tongue-guy pointed to the floor behind the bar. “Right here, right now.” “Excuse me?” I asked. “I wanna do you right here, right now, right on the floor behind the bar.” He started licking the air again with his tongue. “Ew!” I crinkled up my face in revulsion. “Four twenty-five, and please feel free to use one of the many other bartenders from here on out.” He laid a five on the bar and gave me a nasty look before swiftly walking away. I tried to imagine who might ever think that was sexy or cute or anything other than completely disgusting. My skin began to crawl again, so I pushed the whole ordeal out of my mind. That's when I heard, “Bitch, you do attract the most interesting menz.” I spun around to find Timothy holding out his empty glass while pooching his highly glossed bottom lip out in the most pathetic manner possible. I shook my head and took his glass from him. “Thanks, Daddy.” Timothy gave me a grin while continuing to power-chew his gum. Timothy Gerard was bleach-bottle white blond, waifish thin, and the biggest, meanest bitch I'd ever borne witness to. Some of the toughest-looking men who came into the bar were more than a little afraid of him. Timothy could cut a bitch in half with what could easily be a very poisonous tongue. He was absolutely adorable to look at, like a beautiful, shiny little flower…that could bite your face off once you leaned in to take a sniff.

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Timothy was a fashion-design major at the university by day, and he sort of adopted me after I got the job at the bar. Part of me knew it was because I could give him free drinks. But also, for whatever reason, he seemed to genuinely like me. I only knew this secondhand, of course, since I almost always begged out of the after-party scene. But several people had commented to me that Timothy had given me props on more than one occasion for not being a poser. As I mixed up his Stoli cranberry and tonic, his drink du jour of the past few weeks, he asked, “Hey, bitch, did you ever go out with that hot little real estate agent who just moved into town?” I squeezed in an oversize chunk of lime that I'd cut special for him. “We went out last night.” “That's why you weren't at work last night. Snoopy dances!” Timothy leaned over the bar with a sweet little smile. “How was the sex?” “I wouldn't know.” “Christ, Julian. I swear to God you're like some repressed Walt Disney tween star!” He was now longingly eyeing his cocktail, which I held just out of his reach. I shook my head a little as I passed him the glass. He took it from my hands like one of the greedy little children out of Willy Wonka. “Mmmm. Yummies,” he said after taking a sip. I was very aware of the line of people still waiting for drinks, but I felt it was important to stop once or twice a night to talk with Timothy. He always made me laugh, but more importantly—as if it were akin to prison politics—no one would fuck with me as long as the other patrons knew we were friends. “Do you even beat off?” He took another short sip. “Lord, you probably bleed cum!” I laughed at the imagery despite being slightly grossed out. “Yes, I jack off.” I shook my head disapprovingly at him—which he loved. He liked to say I

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was the only person he'd allow to chastise him. He believed me able to throw rocks, since according to him, my house wasn't made of glass. “You're not fucking the real estate agent, and you've lived with that sexy stud from hell for months and still haven't fucked him?” I shrugged, neglecting to mention that my not having sex with Danny had nothing to do with my virtue. Timothy held up his hand in my direction. “The Mother Teresa of Missouri, people!” I busted out laughing and went back to the line of people impatiently waiting for drinks. Finally, like a gift from the gods, the ugly lights came on, and people began to slowly file out of the bar, swapping phone numbers and directions to the after-parties. As I wiped down the bar, I thought about how my personality changed when I came into this bar. I would never be so rude anywhere else. I wondered if there was some type of catty-gay-energy vibe that took over when too many of us gathered in a confined space. I finished my cleaning, counted my tips, clocked out, and sat around for about thirty minutes swapping stories with the other bartenders.

***** I walked through the front door of the loft and heard the TV going. I went up behind the couch and peeked over to see Danny passed out and snoring softly. I grabbed the throw off the ottoman and placed it over him. Looking down at the coffee table, I noticed the DVD cases. I picked one of them up and smiled when I read the label: Anne of Green Gables. Leaning down, I gave him a peck on the forehead before heading to bed.

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Chapter Eight Feather duster in hand, I danced around the apartment shaking my groove thang. Annie Lennox was blaring from the speakers. I shimmied across the wood floors in my socks and yelled out over the music in my game-showhost voice, “With a CD titled Diva, this is the segment of the population to which Miss Lennox was trying to cater.” I shimmied back in the opposite direction. “Who are big nelly queers, Alex?” Sliding across the wood floors like Tom Cruise in Risky Business, I stopped in front of the mirror, lifted the feather duster up to my face, and sang along with “Walking on Broken Glass.” I thrust my hips, doing my Elvis impersonation, and laughed at myself. My parents both loved Elvis. It wound up being one of the few things they had in common. I'd taught myself to do the wild hip-thrusting dance when I was about eight or nine. Not many things could put a smile on both of their faces simultaneously, but that was one of them. I shook my hips and shoulders while admiring my ensemble as reflected back to me from the mirror. An old pair of cutoff jeans, an homage to the summer vacations spent at the lake as a kid. They was paired with one of the white wifebeaters I'd stolen from Danny. It had a spaghetti stain from the time Danny and I had waged a food war in the kitchen. Completing the picture: a red bandanna tied around my head like a biker boy. I thrust my hands out into the air, letting my spirit fingers fly freely as I sang along with Annie about no longer caring for sugar. “You need to lay off the sugar, anyway,” Danny said from behind me as he kicked the front door closed.

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I jumped about a mile off the floor, placing the fisted feather duster over my rapidly beating heart. Danny burst out laughing and walked over to the kitchen counter to set down the canvas grocery bags. “I'm such a heifer, I know.” I composed myself as I meandered over to the stereo and turning down the volume. “I had a double mochaccino and, like, twelve Hershey's Kisses for breakfast.” “Great, candy is like crack to you. Now I'm going to have to survive another Julie sugar rush.” “Don't knock it.” I pointed the feather duster at him. “My little fixes are what keep this apartment clean.” Danny was wearing an old pair of worn jeans that snuggly wrapped around his business, and an old Dave Matthews Band Tshirt. “You just need another outlet to pour all that pent-up energy into.” “Macramé…decoupage?” “No…like fucking.” Pointing the feather duster toward his delectably denim-wrapped crotch, I asked, “Is there any decision that you don't make with that thing?” “Which deodorant to use?” he mused, unpacking the bags. “No, wait, I'm pretty sure it was the muscular arm holding the hammer that made me choose Arm and Hammer deodorant.” “You're hopeless… I sure hope you never suffer from erectile dysfunction. Your whole world would fall apart.” “Hey!” He spun around with a serious expression. “That's not funny. I suppose you'd consider that some sort of cosmic justice.” “You reap what you sow,” I said with a big cheesy grin. “Julie, sex isn't a bad thing. As long as you have two consenting adults and everyone has a good time, who are you hurting? Besides, I've never heard any complaints.”

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“How could you? You have 'em out the door before the sweat has time to dry.” “That's not true.” Danny laughed. “God, you exaggerate.” He sighed and went back to emptying the grocery bags. “Do you want to grab a bite to eat before the reading?” “Sure,” I said, “or we could just fix something here.” “I don't think so.” Danny looked at me briefly before sauntering up to me and lightly rubbing his finger over the stain on my shirt. “This is what happened the last time we tried that.” Goose bumps ran amok over my entire body as he stroked my stain. We stood looking at one another and smiling. He pulled the feather duster out of my hand and set it on the counter behind him, then he picked up the roll of paper towels and Windex, and shoved one into each of my hands. Placing his massive man-hands on my shoulders, he twirled me around, swatted me on the butt, and said, “Get back to work before I have to take you over my knee.” I stood there for a few minutes mulling over that mental picture. Feeling my cock spring to attention, I thought, Good Christ, I do need to get laid. I nodded my head as I ogled the roll of paper towels in my hand. I decided to clean the bathroom first: kill two birds with one stone.

***** Once we had the apartment looking good enough for a layout in Architectural Digest, Danny and I collapsed onto the couch. “I'm exhausted.” Danny pretended he wasn't even able to lift his arm. “Me too.” I looked over at him. “Tonight should be fun, though.” “Yeah, I'm sure the reading will be great.” He let out a big yawn. “I can't believe we let this apartment get so dirty. I thought we were clean.” “We are. Dust just has this way of multiplying when you're not looking.” I took the unspoken bull by the horns. “Do you still want to go tonight?” “Well…do you?” he asked.

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“Not really. The thought of getting ready, ironing clothes, and washing and drying the hair is not that appealing.” “Well, how does taking a quick shower, throwing on some boxers and a Tshirt, and lying in front of the TV sound?” “Heaven!” Danny sprang up off the couch with renewed energy. “I did happen to rent Anne of Avonlea last night when I went to the video store.” “We could order a pizza,” I added, following him as I rose to my feet. “I personally, would like to see what happens to that Anne girl.” “You're so adorable.” I laughed at him while shaking my head. “You want the shower first?” “Okay.” He headed off into his bedroom while I grabbed my cell off the kitchen island. “You want the usual?” I called out. “Yep, large, ultrathin crust, Greek-style pizza with spinach, black olives, and feta cheese,” he answered as he came out of the bedroom and made a beeline for the bathroom. He means business, I thought as I ordered. As I hung up the phone I stretched over the island and scooped up my thirty-two-ounce Sonic Diet Coke and took a big swig off the straw. I continued sucking as I headed for my little ciggie station, where my pack sat waiting patiently on the sill. I lit one and inhaled, then blew a long stream out the window as I took a seat. In only a moment, though, I coughed from overinhaling as I burst out laughing. Danny was singing Beyonce's “Single Ladies” in the shower. Tears began to run out of the corners of my eyes as I hacked and cackled while he sang about “putting a ring on it” in a shrieky falsetto. I cursed a bit noticing a few ashes on the wood floor I'd just polished to a shiny gleam. “That boy seriously can't carry a tune.” It took everything I had not to imagine him doing the dance from the video in the shower. It had been

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several months since we'd actually done this—spent the day alone together, and I was happy. It had seemed as if we'd been drifting apart for quite a while, though. Then again, that's what I'd wanted, wasn't it? At the time it hurt too much to be around Danny, but maybe now that I had Andy it would be better. I was lucky to have found Andy right as I was getting over Danny. Thank God that whole drama was over. Now Danny and I could just be friends. Besides, Andy was perfect for me, not to mention an absolute dreamboat. I looked up as the bathroom door swung open and steam billowed into the living room. Danny sauntered out, bronzed skin glistening in the light. I leaned forward sitting on the sill, mouth slightly agape. He smiled at me as my eyes took in his towel-clad, rock-hard body. “All yours,” he sung out before heading into his bedroom and shutting the door. I felt my ass slipping off the windowsill as I fell onto the floor with a thud. I cursed as I scrambled to pick up my lit cigarette before climbing back onto my feet. Beyond embarrassed, I flung my cigarette butt out the open window in disgust, and I chastised myself as I started for the kitchen to grab a damp sponge to clean the floor. Holy shit! I spun when I heard someone scream, “Hey!” from out on the street below. I hit the floor as if expecting bullets to start flying. Did I just bean an innocent bystander with my flying butt? I listened quietly, and I heard the voice call out, “That burned me, you prick!” I covered my mouth with my hands, feeling horrible yet too chicken to go to the window and face the individual I'd unintentionally assaulted. Then, from the street came, “Fucking asshole!” I started to laugh a bit as I crawled into the kitchen. I got up on my knees, retrieved the sponge, and crawled back to the window to clean up my mess. As I wiped down the floor, I remembered back to just after I'd moved into the loft with Danny. I'd only been living here a few weeks or so, which had

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flown by in a haze since Danny and I had spent practically every free minute of it together. I was flying high because he'd finally met Gabby, and they got on like chocolate and peanut butter. I knew that I'd found the perfect man for me. It felt like we were almost twins. Okay, well maybe not twins. That's a little creepy. But soul mates for sure. Danny was friends with the owner of the Downspout, which was apparently how I got the job. I discovered during my first night of work that there was an actual waiting list to tend bar there. Every cocktail-slinging queer in town wanted the job I got, and aside from the perfect martini my father had shown me how to make when I was eleven, I'd never mixed a drink in my life. I hadn't realized it at the time, but that early martini training was the first sign that pointed toward the end of my parents' marriage. Apparently my mother had refused to make them for my father anymore, so he trained me in the art. I became the little martini maker, which all my parents' friends thought was completely adorable. How I'd fallen from my upper-middle-class upbringing to slinging cocktails in a thumping-bumping gay club I still couldn't figure, but the mere fact that I couldn't seem to be bothered spending too much time thinking about it might have had something to do with it. It felt amazing to discover that Danny had gone to all the trouble to help me get the job. I just knew that meant he must really care about me. I couldn't wait to get home that night. I'd decided that Danny deserved a thank-you, and I was going to give him one he'd soon not forget. The night flew by, and despite the fact that the other bartender who'd been working with me, Jeff, had been a prick the entire evening, I'd wound up having a pretty good time. I was informed by one of the regulars that Jeff had wanted one his friends to get my job, and to not take it personally since he was just being a spoiled little bitch. Honestly, you'd be shocked by the amount of behind-the-scenes politicking there is in a gay bar. Or maybe you wouldn't.

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I'd busted my ass to finish all the cleaning so I could rush home and start living the first day of the rest of my new, happy life. Plus, I was desperate to toe-curlingly fuck the hell out of the man I loved. I entered the flat and pretty much dropped the contents of my hands onto the floor. I locked the front door, rushed into the kitchen, and took out a bottle of water. I chugged half the bottle down and went straight for his bedroom. It was odd that his door was shut all the way. He usually left it cracked a bit, I thought before laughing. I'd lived there for a few weeks, and all of a sudden I thought I knew him like the back of my hand. I stopped at the bathroom door, realizing the polite thing for me to do would be to at least brush my teeth. Then I heard a noise coming from Danny's room, and I froze. I sidled up next to his bedroom door and heard it again, a little louder this time. It couldn't be. My head began to spin. There was no way it could be… “Oh yeah, fuck me, Danny.” I heard it, muffled by bed linens and the door, but clear and unmistakable. I took a few steps back as my mouth hung open. My stomach began to ache as my chest filled with dread and pressure. How could I have been so wrong? You'd imagined it all, you nitwit. Of course he wasn't in love with you; he just met you. My head jerked up as I heard more moaning, and this time Danny was joining in. I quickly sought refuge in my bedroom and quietly closed the door behind me. I looked around desperately, as I could hear them even more clearly in my room. I jumped slightly as I heard a smack, followed by a “hell yeah, fuck my ass!” My mouth fell slack in disgust and repulsion. Why was it so loud in here? I didn't want to hear the man I was in love with doing the nasty with another guy. I threw myself onto the bed, snatching up the pillows and covering my ears. I noticed a vent next to the ceiling on the wall that separated our rooms. Great…we must share an air-return vent. My heart was pounding and breaking at the same time. I cursed myself for being such a fool-hearted little tra-la-la.

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Once again I'd allowed my fantasies to fool me into thinking… Well, maybe they hadn't? Perhaps I just hadn't given it enough time yet. I sat up, suddenly filled with hope, allowing the pillows to drop away from my ears. That's it. In time he'd realize he did love— “Oh yeah, take that cock, boy,” I heard as I yanked the pillows back up to cover my ears. I scowled at the wall separating our bedrooms. “Dirty, dirty,” I mumbled. “What the hell are you doing?” Danny asked as I jerked slightly, startled. I was still on all fours with sponge in hand as I looked up at him in loosefitting black gym shorts and a white wifebeater. The white drawstrings swayed slightly as they dangled down in front of my face, taunting me. I quickly glanced back down at the floor and continued wiping up the ashes. “Just wiping up a dirty, dirty mess.” Danny bent over and pulled me up off the floor. “Well, go hop in the shower before the pizza gets here.” I laughed a little as I looked at him. I could still hear “take that cock, boy” ringing in the back of my head. He shooed me off as he took the sponge and shook his head at me.

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Chapter Nine When I came out of my bedroom in a fresh white cotton T-shirt and boxers, Danny was at the front door paying the delivery driver. He'd already gathered up plates, napkins, and Parmesan cheese and stacked them neatly in the middle of the coffee table. There was also a small pile of Kisses and minipeanut butter cups gathered on my side of the coffee table. I laughed as I made my way over to the window for a quick smoke. “Are those my rations?” I peeked out the window down at the street below, half expecting to see the angry man I'd butt-burned still waiting there…shaking his fist at me and growling. “Well, somebody has to save you from yourself,” he said disapprovingly. “I don't want you getting so fat that you can't wipe your own ass.” I laughed and took a puff off my cancer stick as the mental picture of that scenario popped into my head. I became a little worried about why I found the image so humorous. Danny placed the pizza box down and sat on the couch. He picked up the remote and turned on the TV. I took one last long toke and tossed the butt into the empty jar. The music began, and the previews started as I crossed the room. I sat down next to Danny and bent over the coffee table, placing pizza on a plate for him and one for myself before settling back into the sofa. My gaze made a quick scan of the room, and I felt completely relaxed, the way one always feels after cleaning the house from top to bottom and knowing that everything is done. For once there were no little chores nagging at me in the back of my brain. I turned to look at Danny and began to laugh. He'd dragged half the cheese off his piece of pizza and was picking it off his chin.

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After dinner we each settled into one another on the couch. We were sated after stuffing ourselves with greasy food. The simplicity of eating something so unhealthy fulfilled me in a sick way I'd probably never understand. I felt the heat from Danny's body radiating into my back as I leaned against him. I couldn't for the life of me think of anything I'd rather be doing. I squirmed a little as he poked me in the side playfully. He knew I was ultraticklish and on more than one occasion used it to torture me into doing one thing or another. He folded his arm across my chest, and I rested my chin on it as I got lost in the movie, wondering if Anne and Gil were finally going to be together.

***** The credits began to roll, and I was feeling particularly satisfied with the ending. “That was really good.” I stopped myself, realizing I'd been absent mindedly caressing Danny's arm with my fingers. “It was indeed,” Danny agreed. I felt a little odd for a moment, like maybe Danny had taken notice that I'd stopped caressing his arm. I was way too hinked-out to look up at him. “I guess we should clean this up.” I felt the resistance from his arm when I started to lift my upper body, as if he'd hesitated. He pulled his arm away, and I went directly for the dishes. I felt his large hand on my back, and I nearly dropped everything. “Here, Julian, I'll take those.” Danny stood up and held out his free hand for the dishes. “All right.” I stood up and faced him, holding the plates for him to take. Danny leaned in and started to kiss me. My entire body went stiff as his lips made contact with mine. They were soft and warm, and as if by instinct, my mouth opened for his. I didn't know what the hell was going on. When his tongue made its way into my mouth, I dropped the dishes onto the floor, luckily somehow missing our feet. They crashed, silverware clanking

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across the floor, and I felt Danny's hand slide over my ass. His thick lips were sucking, softly and sensually, as they pressed into mine, his tongue slowly moving in and out of my mouth. His other hand found its way to my other ass cheek as I slid my hands over his hard-muscled shoulders. He seemed to take that as a sign and pulled me into his body, his mouth more forceful as his tongue waged war with mine. My entire brain buzzed and hummed as if in a trance. I was terrified my head might explode from the sensation of his fingers massaging and kneading my ass. All the time I'd longed for and waited for this to happen and now, here it was…in living color with high-def clarity. His mouth was salty from the beer and pizza as I worked my hand onto the back of his head. His short, buzzed hair felt prickly and soft at the same time. I felt extremely light-headed as he continued to cover my mouth with his own. It was as if he were sucking the actual air out of my lungs. I thought I might suffocate, and I didn't fucking care. Danny held me up as I lost the feeling in my legs for a moment, losing my balance. He pulled back, looking over my face. “You okay?” I looked briefly into his glossed-over, sharp green eyes before covering his mouth with mine. I was apparently kissing him with a bit more force than I realized, since he stumbled back a step from my full-frontal assault. His arms roped around my waist once again as my senses overloaded. We were both beginning to sweat, and the taste of him, the woodsy scent from his soap, his natural musky-man smell—together they almost pushed me over the edge. A pathetic, almost frantic whimper escaped from me as his hand moved over my hard-on. From that moment, it became a frenetic rush of pulling and yanking one another out of the few clothes we had on. I hopped up, wrapping my legs around his waist, and clung to his body like a spider monkey. We continued to suck, lick, nip, and groan as we invaded each other's mouths. He was going for the bedroom, and I dug my teeth into his neck, biting

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and sucking as he moaned. I could feel his erection poking at my ass as he walked, feel his fingers probe lightly into me as his hands held me up against him by my ass. “Jesus Christ,” he managed to breathe out as I licked up the side of his neck and began lightly nibbling and sucking his earlobe. “Julian…damn.” Danny kicked open his bedroom door with his foot, and I said, “My room…please?” I couldn't stand the thought of being with him in his bed. I wanted to burn that bed. He nodded, and I went for his lips again, sucking softly. Danny passed through the doorway and growled as he climbed onto my bed, finally sitting back on his ankles as we settled into one another. As we kissed, I could feel him opening me up with his hands. I groaned; the head of his cock pressed into me lightly. I pulled away and looked into his eyes as he lifted me a bit, before setting me down onto the bed. I broke away, crawled over to the nightstand, and turned on the lamp. I felt his hand on my ass, poking and prodding at me with his fingers. My guy was definitely all about the ass, I thought, opening the drawer and retrieving a condom and lube. I let out a sharp yelp as one of Danny's damp, thick fingers pressed into me. I felt my eyes roll back into my head as my eyelids fluttered from the sensation. As much as I'd been looking forward to wrapping my lips around his dick, I was already conceding as I pushed back into his finger. I sat up on my knees, spreading my legs a bit farther. Danny's free arm wrapped around my waist, and he pulled me toward him, thrusting his finger all the way inside me. I bit my lip as I tore open the condom, tossing the wrapper I-didn't-give-a-shit-where. He whispered a moan as I reached over and stroked his thick, hard cock. Danny placed his forehead onto the side of my head, and he fucked me with his finger as his hot breath blew into my ear. I heard him whisper my name again—Julian…not Julie. “I want you,” Danny whispered in an almost haggard, husky voice.

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I pushed him back, and he fell onto his ass. His finger slipped out of me. He looked at me with a half smile, and I thought I might die right there. That sexy smirk had done me in the first time I saw it. I leaned over and took him into my mouth, then deep throated him. I felt Danny's entire body stiffen as I worked my lips up and down his shaft a few times. I removed my mouth, kissing the head before rolling the condom over his thick hard-on. I straddled him and squirted some lube into his hand; then I kissed him. I listened to the wet noises as he worked the lube over himself. Danny tore his mouth away from mine and turned his head slightly, looking back as he scooted his body back so he could lean against the headboard. We locked eyes as I shimmied up his legs. He used his hand to steady his dick as I sat, taking in a sharp breath as the large head pressed into me. I relaxed as best I could, but my ass tried to resist the welcome invasion. Danny cursed a deep moan from the pressure as I watched his head fall back into the leather headboard. His hands slid over my ass, massaging, and I yelped from the shot of pain as the head finally forced its way in. I slowly pressed my body down farther, taking him all the way in as he pounded the back of his head lightly into the headboard from the pleasure. Danny finally looked back at me, and we kissed again. I began to work myself up and down his cock as we each moaned, taunting one another with our tongues. He ran a hand up my side and leaned in, taking a nipple into his mouth and pulling on it with his teeth. I called out his name, beginning to pump myself a little faster on him. His hand wrapped around my hard-on and stroked as he moved over to the other nipple and began to torture it with his teeth and tongue. My entire body was on fire, and I could feel the wet heat build as I called out. Danny rubbed his thumb and finger over the head of my dick. I shot with a force I hadn't seen in years.

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“Ah, baby…” he said, losing his words as he began to thrust up into me as I came down onto him. I covered his mouth with mine, muffling his screams as he came. I kissed my way over to his ear as he continued to thrust and twitch. I whispered, “Danny, give me everything.” He let out one last cry as his arms tightened around me, squeezing out any space that might come between us.

***** My eyelids fluttered open, and I felt a little chill from the cold. I was lying on my stomach. My last memory was Danny asking if I wanted anything as he turned off the bedside lamp to head for the kitchen. He'd run his hand gently over my lower back and ass—then nothing. I must have fallen asleep. The sky was beginning to lighten, but the sun was by no means up. The clock said 5:32. I was freezing as I rolled over to see that Danny wasn't there. As I climbed under the covers, teeth chattering, it struck me as odd that he hadn't made me climb under the covers with him. I grumbled and closed my eyes, drifting back to sleep.

***** I sat up in the bed and looked around, confused. The dull ache in my backside confirmed that I hadn't merely dreamed it; the whole thing had happened. I smiled, able to recall the way it felt to have him inside of me. I looked out the window to see a light drizzle coming down. It was almost ten, and I was due to meet Gabby in a few hours. I threw the covers off and stopped, looking over at the far side of my bed. Had it not been slept in? Shaking my head at the silliness of that thought, I bounced out of bed and stumbled through my sleepy-eyed haze into the living room. I panicked again momentarily looking at the spotless room, and then laughed as I noticed a fork poking out from under the sofa. It had actually happened. Danny and I had sex last night.

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I ran my hand over my ass, grinning from ear to ear, and started to get hard remembering the way Danny's hands had felt on my body, his breath… The whole night had been more amazing than I'd ever imagined it could be. He seemed to have wanted me as desperately as I did him. I spied my ciggies on the ledge and then looked toward the kitchen, thinking about the ice-cold cans of caffeine-infused Diet Coke in the fridge. Then, feeling my bladder begging for relief, I crossed my legs. I giggled, much as I had as a kid, and went back into my room to yank on a pair of loose-fitting boxers. Can't be flashing the neighbors. I moved briskly then, wasting no time getting out of my room and straight into the bathroom. I relieved myself, complete with pee shiver and a long moan of relief before heading into the kitchen. I lifted the can of soda out of the fridge, all silver and sparkly, and held it up as if I were Indiana Jones and had just discovered a priceless artifact. I held the can close to my ear as I popped the top, listened to the click, followed by the hiss of air, and finally to the fizzing of bubbly goodness that waited inside. My mouth watered as I licked my lips. I took a good long drink: sweet nectar of the gods. I danced my way up to the front window and opened it, inhaling that fresh, rainy scent from the air. Everything's better after Danny-sex. I felt like Peter Parker having just been bitten by the radioactive spider—all my senses were heightened. I laughed out loud as I seriously considered trying to climb up the side of the building for a moment. I hummed as I pulled a smoke out and lit it, then fell onto my knees. I rested my elbows on the window ledge and sighed. Life is grrrreat! I took a long toke off my cigarette and exhaled. Still, the thought nagged at me that my bed looked as if I'd been the only one who'd slept in it. “Puh-lease.” I inhaled another puff and reminded myself that this was the happiest morning of my life. I exhaled and scolded myself sternly. I would not allow me to ruin my morning. I shook that line of thinking from my head and quickly tossed the smoke into my jar.

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I leaped up onto my feet and marched straight to Danny's bedroom. The door was cracked, so I pushed it open. The bed hadn't been slept in…although he could've made it before leaving to go to the gym. This was just stupid. He'd slept in my bed with me. He had to have. Perhaps he just slept so soundly that he hadn't rooted around much. Maybe that's why the other side of the bed looked so neat. I took another quick swig from the soda can and went back into my room. The pillows on that side of the bed hadn't been smushed, but maybe that didn't mean anything. Maybe Danny had passed out much the same way I had. I reached down to snatch up my cell phone, only to discover it wasn't there. Shit, I forgot to charge it last night. I went back out into the apartment to where I'd left it in the kitchen the night before. Maybe Danny had left a message? When I got to the phone, I noticed two things. There was only one bar left on my battery—and there were no messages. I scrolled down to Danny's number and hit the Call button. I smiled when I heard his voice. Even though it was only his voice mail, I couldn't seem to help myself. “Hey…Danny, it's me. Give me a call when you have a sec.” I punched the End button and hightailed it back to my room. I nodded my head. I had indeed used the right laid-back, light, and airy tone in my voice. I plugged in my phone before heading to the shower.

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Chapter Ten I sat down at our usual table with my glass of wine and pack of smokes. They had the heaters running, and it took the chill out of the air as the drizzly rain continued to mist. I hated drizzle; it annoyed the hell out of me. Either rain or don't, but commit to one or the other already. I placed my phone on the table and quickly checked the ringer to make sure I hadn't accidently turned it on vibrate or something. He still hadn't called, but it was lunch and Danny knew I was with Gabby every day at this time. I was sure he'd call this afternoon…always a time of day when the bookstore hit a lull in activity. “Expecting a call?” Gabby winked as she sat across the table from me. She looked particularly beautiful, her dark red hair taking center stage in contrast to such a drizzly day. She was in a snazzy little gray pantsuit that had a cute little vest. The pantsuit princess. She slid off her jacket and tossed in onto the back of her chair. “I can't believe you beat me here.” “I know. It may actually be a first.” I pulled out two smokes, lit one, and passed it to her. She took it from me as I lit the second one. “How was your weekend?” “Apparently not as eventful as yours.” She was eyeing me funny. “What?” “Spill it.” She exhaled. “I can tell by the way you said your weekend that you really just want me to ask about yours.” I glanced over at her disapprovingly but, considering she was dead-on, didn't comment further on that front. “Danny and I did it.”

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“Did what?” Gabby smiled gratefully at the waitress who brought her a martini. “It,” I said. She looked at me and began to take a sip from her glass. Then, realizing what the it was, she choked and spewed vodka, misting me and the table with martini. I blinked once or twice, stunned by what had just happened. Her mouth fell open. She sprung up out of her seat, then took her napkin and dabbed at my face. I could tell she was desperate to suppress her laughter. “How…refreshing,” I said, unmoving, my tone as flat and sarcastic as I could make it. Gabby lost it as our waitress came over with a few more napkins. “I am so sorry.” She managed to squeeze the words out as she tried to minimize the scene that she'd already made. “I…I can't believe it.” Embarrassed at having all eyes in the dining room turned on me, I began drying myself off. Gabby sat back down and asked the waitress to bring her another drink. There was a new glass on our table in no time. Ensconced with our drinks, I gave Gabby the details of what had happened with Danny the night before. I reached down to pick up my smoke, only to notice the ashtray was gone. As I watched, the waitress dropped off a dry one. I sighed as Gabby sat patiently, tapping her finger lightly on the table until I finished the story. “How was it?” Gabby'd been about to bust waiting to ask that question. I smiled at her and felt my face begin to burn. “That good, huh?” “It was…wow. I mean…I never knew…” I reached up, letting my fingers graze my lips. “It was the most amazing…connection.” “Christ, you sound like one of those Match.com fruitcakes.”

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“Honestly, Gabby, when I think about it, I wanna cry and laugh at the same time. The intensity of Danny… I swear I couldn't look away, not that I wanted to.” “This doesn't sound at all like Danny.” “I know.” I picked up my ciggies—luckily and inexplicably still dry despite the Gabby shower. I slid one out and lit it. “I expected him to be…proficient, but I wasn't expecting earth-shatteringly intense.” “And you haven't really talked with him since?” Gabby asked, swiping my smoke. I glanced over at my phone. I frowned and wiped the tiny droplets of liquid off it. “No. I'm a little nervous. It's going to be weird being in the loft with him as an actual couple.” “Normally I'd warn you to be careful, but he must want that too.” Gabby leaned back as our waitress dropped off the salads. “Danny knows you well enough to know what sleeping with you would mean.” “And I swear to you I had nothing to do with starting it.” Gabby laughed. “How did you know that's where I was going next?” “We've been friends way too long.” I picked a tomato chunk off the top of my salad and tossed it into my mouth. “Did you go to Ross and Jason's commitment ceremony on Saturday?” “No.” She stamped out the smoke. “But I did send them a lovely set of crystal martini glasses.” “Naturally.” I took a sip of wine. “Well, if I ever go to their house, I want them to have the appropriate stemware for me.” “You're so considerate. It just pisses me off that gay people can't be legally married, like we aren't worthy. Don't let them faggots marry,” I said in my best redneck voice. “It's sacred. They'll ruin it, make a mockery out of it.” I sliced into my salad a bit overzealously. “Like straight people have any room to talk.

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Look at the fucking divorce rate in this country. Damn religious right and stupid, doody-headed Republicans.” “Like your new boyfriend,” she said with a wicked smile, then looked back at me. “Jesus, Julian. What did you tell Andy?” I cringed and shifted in my chair. “He's already called once today. I don't want to hurt him.” “Well, you need to tell him.” Gabby gave me her don't-be-a-shit look. “And cheer up, sweets. Maybe by the time you're ready to drag Danny kicking and screaming down the aisle, it'll actually be legal. And don't go blaming just the Republicans; it was Clinton who signed the Defense of Marriage Act.” “Don't remind me. I still feel betrayed, and it's how many years later?” I asked, dismayed and confused as ever. “All my naive, high school, Oxy Ten teen dreams were smashed when he did that.” I looked off into space. “A hero died for me that day.” “You're so melodramatic.” Gabby pushed her plate away. “I thought it was funny that he signed that, considering all of the Monica cigar stuff came out. I'm stuffed already, and the food hasn't even come.” “I know!” I placed my hand on my back and winced. “Twist the knife, why don't you? That hypocrite.” “Julian”—she lit a cigarette—“it's just a piece of paper. It hardly defines a relationship.” “I know.” I let out a sigh and looked back up at the ceiling with wholesomey goodness as I folded my hands in prayer fashion. “I've just always wanted to utter the words 'I, Julian Hallowell, take this perfect, stunning specimen of a man, to be my lawfully wedded—whatever.'” Gabby laughed, and we spent the rest of our lunch describing what our weddings would be like, should we ever get married. Gabby, of course, wanted something outdoors with the wide-open sky all around, simple dress, simple

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ceremony, and by God she'd write her own vows. The word obey would never be used in any ceremony she was involved in. While the word obey didn't exactly bother me, at least not in the bad way, my wedding was going to be extremely extravagant and despicably vulgar. It would be all different shades of white because nothing other than purest of pure would do for my lily-white ass. I'd invite everyone I'd ever met, and it would be in the largest venue, with the most flowers. An event to end all other events. It would be so over-the-top because right after I said the I do, I'd want to rub it in the face of all the mean-ass, gay-hating bigots as I jumped around like a brat singing na-na, na-na, naaaaaaaaa! Not very mature of me, I know, but what can I say?

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Chapter Eleven Driving back to the loft after lunch, I thought about Danny and the man I knew him to be—as well as the man he probably never could be. Basically who he was, minus all the romantic ideals I'd piled onto him in the past. Even though I'd noticed a definite increase in physical affection over the past months, he was quite possibly never going to be a very touchy-feely guy. There would never be grand declarations of love or drawn-out conversations about feelings with Danny. I was fine with all that. Despite my need to hear it, I knew one overanalyzing neurotic boy per household was probably a good thing. Regardless of my wants, I also knew I'd be much better off with a man like Danny. We made a good team, so to speak. We seemed to complement one another, each possessing some of the qualities that the other didn't. We also shared some that were most important to me. I was hyper and could talk the hind leg off a mule. Danny was more subdued and quiet, speaking when he had something to say versus my need to fill up any silence with noise. I'd always respected his strength and generosity, but the biggest gift he'd given me was helping me recognize my own strength.

It had only been a few months ago. My father's mother, Granny Grace, had just passed. Mom called to let me know, and even through the haze of sleep I was more than a bit surprised when she mentioned how devastated my father was. She'd said it with no malice, and it took me aback. I couldn't remember the last time I'd heard my mother or father say anything kind about the other.

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On top of that, Granny Grace had hated my mother. My father had been the apple of her eye and her favorite son. Delilah on the other hand was from more humble beginnings, the daughter of a small-time businessman in a tiny Texas farming town. Delilah was nothing if not proud. Both she and everyone else in town had expected little Delilah would be the one to move on to bigger and better things. And my momma loved her daddy, who at the time owned a small feed and tackle store. For anyone to look down their nose at where she had come from… Well, let's just say that was the one thing you didn't do to my mother and expect it to ever be forgiven or forgotten. To her, that was like slapping her daddy in the face. So it happened that upon meeting Delilah, Granny Grace took one look and asked my father, “What pauper patch did this one claw her way out of?” My mother in return looked Grace dead in the eye and offered in her sweet Southern lilt, “I come from the land where manners are not forgotten.” Now, no one ever talked back to Grace, with the exception of Delilah. A lifetime of resentment and bitterness followed. So, I was shocked by my mother's sympathetic attitude, considering I'd more likely expect to find her dancing naked on Granny Grace's front lawn, singing “Ding Dong the Witch Is Dead.” “I can't believe you're even there.” I tried wiping the sleep out of my eyes. “Well, your father's pretty torn up, Julian. As much as I disliked the old—” I could hear her take a deep breath. “I should not be speaking ill of the dead.” “You should cut yourself a little slack, Mom.” I pulled myself over to the side of the bed and sat up. “You've got thirty-odd years' worth of habit to break.” I could hear her laughing a bit under her breath. “I suppose you're right. When was it that you became so smart?” “I'd certainly hope to hell I was, after nine years of college.” “You most certainly have a point there. You could've been a doctor—”

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I rolled my eyes. “Good Christ, my hell, I'm sorry I brought it up.” “Don't interrupt your mother.” I savored the moment of feeling suddenly like a little boy again. I loved that one word in the right tone of my mother's voice could accomplish that. Part of me really missed being that little boy…my momma's boy. “Baby, I'll have a ticket ready for you to pick up at the airport,” Mom said. “Be honest now, Momma.” I only called her momma when I teased her. “There's a teeny, tiny part of you that's only there because you know Granny Grace is watching right now, and she's fit to be tied knowing you're running things.” “That is… Julian Hallowell, you shouldn't say such horrible things about your own mother.” “I'll take that as a yes, considering that was the worst attempt you've ever made at trying to scold me.” “You're a wicked child, Julian.” “I love you too.” I laughed at the little huff she made before hanging up the phone. I shook my head and felt momentarily sad that there would never be peace between Granny Grace and my mother. I was also a bit uncertain that my parents could actually work together for a few days without killing one another. Hell, I'd have been happy if they could at least stand to be in the same room. Granny Grace always seemed to like me just fine. While I don't think my homosexuality had really bothered her all that much, she certainly liked to throw it out there as something else my mother did. From what I understood, I was a miracle as it was. My parents had wanted another child, a little sister or brother for me. But even after several years, I was still an only child. The doctors told my parents that the chances for a second child were slim due to “Delilah's faulty equipment,” as it was referred to when I was little. Perhaps

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that's why she latched onto Danny so quickly. He didn't have a mom, and she'd always wanted more children. I'd always been very polite to Granny Grace for my father's sake, but I also resented her for bad-mouthing my mother. I suppose it made it a bit easier to overlook Granny's bad behavior if Mom was always doing the same to her. I really couldn't understand it, though; I thought they were so much alike— though I'd damn myself to hell before ever saying that to either one of them. I'd come out of the bathroom after my shower and was startled to find Danny sitting on one of the bar stools at the island. “Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.” Danny turned in the swivel seat to face me. “Your Mom called and asked if I could drive you to the airport.” “Crap, I already asked Gabby.” I looked around for my phone. “You want me to call her?” “If you don't mind?” I headed into my bedroom and slipped off my robe. I called out to him, “Thanks for helping out like this!” “You don't have to yell,” Danny said. I jumped, spinning around stark naked to find him leaning against the doorjamb of my bedroom. He had a devastatingly sexy-sinister smile as he looked me up and down and winked. I felt my entire body flush as I shook my head at him while turning back around to begin digging out clothes. I yanked on a pair of black boxer briefs, listening to Danny inform Gabby he'd take care of me. I smiled with some satisfaction when he told her I appeared to be handling it all very well. It brought to my attention that I wasn't actually too broken up over it. That was more than a little strange for my behavior. I shrugged mentally, figuring I must be in shock or something. I looked up and noticed Danny had been talking to me. “I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention; I thought you were still on the phone.”

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“I asked if you'd like it if I went with you.” I stopped tossing clothes onto my bed and looked up at him. I was certainly in shock now. I couldn't believe he'd offered. “You'd… I mean, yes, I would like that, but you don't…” “Done. I'm there,” Danny said as if ordering extra egg rolls with his kung pao chicken. “I'll call your mom back and let her know I'm coming with you.” My heart sank a little, figuring it was probably Mom who'd asked him to come. “Great, thanks…buddy.” Buddy? Never in all my life had I used the word buddy. Danny shook his head at me before he disappeared back out into the loft. I stood in shock, watching my empty doorway. Well, despite Mom's meddling, I was glad that I wouldn't be going alone. I could already hear Granny Grace in my head recalling one of the many reasons I turned out the way I had. “That damn Delilah coddled the boy too damn much, I tell you. If she'd let him out of her sights for more than two minutes, he might've had half a chance.” I laughed, thinking how much restraint it had taken for me to not pipe up and say Actually, Granny, it has more to do with my incredibly strong desire to suck dick.

***** Danny and I rode in the car to my father's family home in the Forest Park area of St. Louis. I was almost able to convince myself that Danny was my guy as he placed his arm around me and tapped his fingers lightly on my shoulder in time with the music. It felt wonderful, even if it had been done out of friendship rather than love. We each looked slightly rumpled from the flight, weary in our jeans and T-shirts. I laid my head back onto his shoulder, catching a tiny whiff of the spicy scent of his aftershave. My father's family wasn't rich by any means, moderately comfortable by today's standards, but Granny Grace seemed to think she was the Barbara

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Hutton of the Mississippi Delta. Toward the end of her life, while she'd gotten physically weaker and more fragile, she never lost her tongue, and her mind always seemed sharp as a tack. The Hallowell family estate, a term I use loosely, sat on about four acres in the older part of the city. The land used to be part of a much larger parcel that my great-grandfather purchased from the Hamilton family. Little pieces of the Hamilton estate had been whittled away over the years after the death of Jonathon Hamilton, whose large plantation-style home sat on the opposite end of the three-block street named Emiline Avenue. The two larger estates were separated by Victorians of various sizes, a few smaller Craftsman-style homes, and a bungalow that had been designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. The whole Hamilton family had a sordid history. Granny called them witches and forbade me anywhere near them as a child. Granny's twin brother had apparently fallen in love with one of the daughters. I never knew any of the details, but Granny was convinced those Hamilton witches had murdered her brother. The Hallowell house, where my father had grown up, was indeed something to behold. Built in 1902, the Venetian, palazzo-style home featured a Bedford Limestone exterior that had held up beautifully over the years. At over ten thousand square feet, one was left with the impression that the house would last forever. It was a massive two-and-a-half-story home with a large set of limestone steps that led up to a portico. A huge solarium on the south side of the house provided a balcony for the second-floor master suite. In the bright sun, it was a shiny white beacon surrounded by parklike, gated grounds. I smiled when Danny commented that the place was pretty. As the car pulled up the circular drive, I could see my parents come out of the portico onto the front steps. Dad was, as usual, clad in khakis and a polo shirt. Mom was in a gauzy, cream-colored two-piece ensemble, the top of which was a wraparound that tied at the waist. The loose curls of my mother's midlength blonde hair blew lightly in the breeze. They made a damn smart-looking pair,

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but I had to do a double take when I saw my father's arm around my mother's waist. I was beginning to believe I'd had an aneurism and had become stuck in some hallucinatory, alternate-universe coma where my parents actually liked one another. When I was a teenager, I liked to pretend that my parents had just been a more dysfunctional nineteen seventies version of Jordan and Leslie Benedict from Giant. As many times as I wished they'd get back together then, the sight of them together now was a little creepy. “Hello,” my father bellowed as Danny and I got out of the car. Once up the steps in front of him, I could tell he'd been crying by the look of his bloodshot eyes. I smiled, comforted a bit by the slight scent of bourbon on his breath. Jacob Hallowell was far more handsome than any man had a right to be at his age. His dark brown hair was peppered with white. Unlike me, he had nicely defined masculine features. We did, however, have the exact same big brown eyes. Dad was more beefy than I'd ever be, but I had managed to inherit his metabolism, something my mother both appreciated and envied. He'd always been a looker, as my mom used to say. When she talked about him during those times, back when they had first met and married, I could see she was still in love with him, or at least with the version of the man she thought he was when they'd met. “Hi, Dad.” I wrapped my arms around him and smiled as he squeezed me back. I couldn't remember him hugging me like that since I was little. “I'm sorry about Granny Grace. I thought she'd outlive us all.” “Out of sheer orneriness if nothing else.” Dad laughed as we separated. He leaned forward and shook Danny's hand. “Good to see you again, Danny.” “You too, sir, though I wish under better circumstances. My condolences.” Dad offered his thanks as I hugged Mom and gave her a peck on the cheek. “You look stunning, Mother.”

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She gave me a look before turning her attention to Danny. “Thank you for offering to come with Julian.” He'd offered to come with me after all? Danny seemed to blush a little as he caught my gaze. “Please let me know if I can help in any way.” Danny looked at me briefly, then back to my parents. “Not all of the family has made it in yet, but—” Dad started. “Oh Christ.” It came out a little louder than intended, as evidenced by my mother's shushing. Dad was giving me a little smile, and I noticed a slight twinkle return to his eyes. “We've already sat down with her, and now we're telling you as well that this is not the time or the place to air out old family grievances.” “Jennie has agreed to behave, and I'm telling you, Julian.” Mom was giving me her no-nonsense-allowed look. “I won't stand for any of it.” I held up my hand. “I will treat her exactly as I am treated.” Mom rolled her eyes as Dad smiled. “That's all we can ask of the boy.” “Thank you, Dad.” I smiled at him for understanding that I would defend myself if necessary. I noticed my mother giving the pleading eyes to Danny, who obviously had no idea what was going on. “I'll do my best to keep him out of trouble?” Danny looked very confused and downright adorable. “Don't let her fool you for one minute.” Dad picked up one of the suitcases the driver had carried up onto the porch. “I think your mother's hoping you'll both explode and try to kill one another during the service.” I laughed. Dad was right on the money. Mom reached over and pinched him in the side. He cringed, then laughed more. “I'm doing my damnedest to put my own feelings aside and help out wherever I can,” Mom said.

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“I realize that, darling.” Dad grinned at her, and she shot back a flirty look. “What's going on with the two of you?” I picked up a couple of bags and followed my preening parents into the house. “What do you mean?” Mom asked innocently, as if I were the nutter. “You're all nice and flirty to one another. It's creeping me out.” “That's a fine way to act,” Mom scolded as we entered the large foyer with the monumental crystal chandelier dangling overhead. The house felt so massive that it almost had a weight to it as you walked inside. There'd been times when I was a child that this home had made me feel safe, and other times when it had felt oppressive. “Your mother has been a great help to me the past few days.” Dad stated the fact emphatically, as if to let me know he didn't appreciate my snarky comment. “We've mended some of our fences, so keep your sarcasm to yourself.” I felt Danny smack me with a bag from behind as we began to climb the grand staircase. I turned around, and Danny gave me a mean look. I nodded and shrugged. “I'm very sorry; I'm just a little shocked.” Please feel free to pass me some of the Kool-Aid you've both been drinking. I smiled. Give some to Danny while you're at it. “I hope you boys don't mind sharing a room.” Mom threw out. Thank you, Mother. “I'm sure Danny—” “It's perfectly fine; please don't go to any trouble,” Danny interrupted from behind as we reached the second-floor landing. I knew Danny couldn't see the large smile that had spread across my face, since he was behind me, but I was certain Mom had noticed it out of the corner of her eye.

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“Since Jennie and her kids are on the third floor, we decided to keep you down here.” Mom led us into one of the smaller second-floor bedrooms. It was a light, airy room with a queen-size bed and two large, lacecurtained windows on either side that looked out over the back part of the property. The creaky wood floors and tall ceilings raised childhood memories. The smell of the old place especially brought me back. Slightly musty. I'd always thought that the house smelled like history. “We stuck you off to the side so you'd have more privacy,” Mom added as she and Dad turned to leave. “We'll be downstairs. Come on down once you've settled in.” My dad winked at me. “Good to see you, kiddo.” “Good to see you too, Dad.” They pulled the door closed behind them, and I looked at Danny. “I'm so sorry.” Danny laughed a bit and collapsed back onto the bed. “It's no big deal. I'm just glad I can be here for you.” I flopped down next to him and fell back, stretching. I laughed when he poked me in the ribs a couple of times. “So what's the deal with this Jennie person?” I grumbled a sound to let him know exactly how much I loathed her. Danny laughed and rolled onto his side to face me from the bed. If there was one thing I hated more about my childhood, aside from my parents' divorce and Gary Hamm, the neighborhood bully, it would be having to spend my summers with the priggish preteen Jennie Hallowell. “My cousin, whose name used to be Jennifer Jean Hallowell.” I curled my lip thinking about her. “Now there's a hyphen Anderson attached.” Danny pulled his legs up onto the bed and propped his head on his elbow like he was a little kid getting ready for story time. “Jennie has always desperately wanted to be the apple of everyone's eye. Perception matters more to Jennie than anything else in the whole world. It's

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her oxygen.” I smiled back when Danny grinned at me. I couldn't help myself. It took everything I had to keep my mind on the story I was telling and away from thoughts of sleeping in the same bed with him later that night. “She couldn't have given two shits as to whether or not I was queer. It was, however, unforgivable for me to be open about it. Every time Jennie looks at me, all she sees is the ugly blemish on the family. The bruised fruit, so to speak.” Danny laughed out loud. “I like bruised fruit.” I grinned so wide, I must've looked like the Joker. Was Danny flirting with me or just being kind? “No one else in the family seems to care that much one way or the other. Even Jennie's parents, my aunt and uncle, have been very supportive. But to Jennie, my gayness is unforgivable. I think she'd prefer that I'd been a serial killer. At least then she could have me locked away and hidden somewhere.” “Do you think she's a lesbo?” “No,” I said. “For once I don't think this is one of those cases where the person protesting the loudest is a big ole' take-it-up-the-ass fairy—or clit licker, as it would be in her case. It's really not that big a deal.” I stared out the window. “Other than my hatred for her, it's all good.” Danny smiled and shook his head at me. “Your family is so amazing to me.” I rolled onto my back and stared up at the ceiling. “I'm really glad you came.” He rolled to his back again, stretching out next to me. “Me too.”

***** Once we unpacked and settled ourselves into the room, Danny and I borrowed Dad's Lexus and ran over to the Galleria. Danny didn't have a suit, so we popped into Macy's and picked one up. Danny was a little thicker through the chest, making a comfortable fit into most standard sizes difficult, but we managed to find a black Hugo Boss that fit quite nicely. Perhaps too

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nicely. I found myself getting aroused when he came out of the dressing room wearing it. He just had to be the kind of guy who looked great in everything as well as out of everything. That evening, the viewing went by without a hitch, and we managed to make it through a late family dinner in peace. While looks could kill, Jennie and I managed to maintain our distance and keep things peaceful. How the hell she'd wound up snagging such a hot husband, I didn't know. Benjamin Anderson looked like a live-action Ken doll, and while he and I had never spoken before, I had it on good authority from my father that he was of like mind with Jennie where we queer folk were concerned. While Jennie had invited me to her wedding last year, she'd made it quite clear that I wasn't allowed a plus-one. I, of course, didn't bother to RSVP. I apologized to my father and to my aunt and uncle, and asked them to please convey my well wishes to the happy couple. The best part was that Mom didn't go either. Jennie had always loved my mother. The fact that Delilah was always flawlessly put together had been a powerful lure to the Martha Stewart wannabe. Jennie had been drawn to her as a child. My mother, on the other hand, hadn't been very fond of Jennie since she'd become so vocal in her disdain for my mother's little cub. Danny stuck to me like flypaper all evening—as if I were an unstable bomb that might go off at any minute. I did, however, catch him giving Jennie's husband the evil eye. I thought it was sweet but unnecessary. The last thing Jennie would want was a big scuffle on her account. At the same time, I knew she was waiting for any little crack or comment from me that she could exploit to toss aside the promise she'd made and attack. She wasn't going to get it. By the time we were ready for bed that night, I was exhausted and exhilarated. It was one of those times where I could be asleep or aroused in seconds, depending on which way things happened to go. It was mid-July, and while the big, old house had air-conditioning, it didn't seem to work real well. It

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had never been an issue while Granny Grace was alive; she liked it hot. “The hotter the better,” she always said. Personally, I thought opening the windows would have made it more pleasant, but it was tolerable as long as you didn't fidget and move around too much. While I'd dozed off the instant my head hit the pillow, at some point during the night my eyes popped open. I was disoriented for a moment, before realizing Danny had rolled over onto me—his arm across my chest, his leg between mine, his knee pressed up into my balls. As if that weren't enough, what felt like a most impressive erection weighed into my hip. We'd certainly seen each other naked before, but I'd never caught a glimpse of Danny in all his…glory. I couldn't see his erection, but it sure as hell felt really great. I glanced down to see my own hard-on poking out of the elastic waistband of my undies. I wasn't sure, but for a second I was convinced the one eye my dick had was pleading with me to put it out of its achy misery. The room was dark, but moonlight spilled through the windows and across the bed, illuminating our bodies. The sheet had somehow gotten kicked off and was now scrunched up at our feet. I could hear the faint sound of a cricket outside somewhere and the light clank of the chain that was dangling from the ceiling fan we had on high. Danny nuzzled his face into my neck, and his light snoring buzzed softly into my ear. The weight of his thick arm across my chest burned into my skin. I rolled slowly onto my side, turning away from him while hanging on to his arm. When I got onto my side, I pulled on his arm and smiled as he nuzzled closer, spooning me. I wasn't positive, but it felt as if Danny lightly kissed the back of my neck. The room was still warm, but I didn't give a damn as I felt the heat from his body slice into my back. I closed my eyes, thinking I might die. I just barely woke at some point once more in the night. When I heard again the soft drone of Danny's snoring, a chill thrill ran through me, and I fell back to sleep, contented and safe.

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My eyes fluttered open as sunlight filtered in from the windows. Danny was snoring softly as I lay wrapped up in his arms. I felt Danny's hand move a little and realized it was resting over my own hard-on. It was only a little after eight, and while it was way early for me, it was really late for Danny, who moaned softly, pulling me tighter as he ground his cock into my ass. I then felt Danny's hand squeeze my hard-on, and I bit my lower lip as my eyes rolled back into my head. I'd swear Danny was doing it on purpose if he hadn't been snoring. I'd never been this close to him. It made it difficult for me to collect my thoughts. I realized that at some point the sheet managed to make its way back over us. A little moan escaped my lips as Danny rubbed my cock again, almost as if slowly jerking me off. I felt a little precum ooze out, and I closed my eyes. Holy fuck, I thought, arching my back and pressing my ass into Danny's erection as he ground it into me. He rubbed my cock a little more, and I froze as he softly snored again. I realized that Danny didn't know he was doing what he was doing. As badly as I wanted him to keep doing it, I began to freak, wondering if Danny would freak should he wake up and realize he had his hand on my dick and his cock practically up my ass. I let out another tiny groan as he pressed into me again. I was about ready to burst feeling the head of my cock begin that familiar tingling. If Danny didn't want this, it could make for a very awkward and uncomfortable day. The last thing I needed would be to have Danny feel the need to avoid me all day out of embarrassment. I slowly began to lean backward, and Danny made a little noise as he rolled over onto his back. Inching over to the side of the bed, I breathed steadily as I pulled away from him. I lifted the covers and slid out. I glanced back at Danny and made sure I hadn't woken him. Tiptoeing through the room, I made for the tiny adjoining bathroom, where I ducked in and closed the door. It took about two seconds for me to get out of my underwear and shoot my load into my hand. The difficult part had been

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keeping the noise down. I felt instantly better as I reached in and turned on the shower. My head was still buzzing from the orgasm as I stepped under the cool water.

When I made my way back into the bedroom, Danny was still asleep. I quietly went to my suitcase and pulled out some clothes. I tossed on a plain white T-shirt and a pair of jeans. I was dying for some caffeine and desperate for a smoke. I turned to head for the door to the hall, but hearing a little moan, I stopped. I smiled and spun around, looking back at the bed. I could see the large lump under the sheets. I bit my lip as I allowed my gaze to slowly wander over Danny's bare chest, down the ridges of his stomach, until I reached the little patch of hair that started just under his belly button and disappeared under the sheet. I knew it was stupid, but I was unable to stop myself. I crept back over and slowly leaned over the edge of the bed. I reached out and grabbed the top of the sheet, lifting it cautiously. I peeked underneath and nodded, impressed by the several inches of Danny's morning wood sticking up out of his briefs. It was long and thick with a large head, and there was a mouthwatering small pool of precum that had leaked onto his abdomen. Danny suddenly rolled toward me onto his side, and I gasped, dropping the blanket as I stood up too fast. My arms flailed about in an attempt to balance myself. I took a step back, and my foot landed onto the leg of a chair that slid across the hardwood, taking my foot with it. As I tried to balance myself, I overcorrected, falling face-first onto the side of the mattress, then bounced off and landed on the floor with a thud. From the floor I noticed Danny sitting up in the middle of the bed. He was making indecipherable words and still appeared to be half-asleep. His head was turning abruptly like the Bride of Frankenstein from that old black-andwhite movie. He noticed me sprawled out on the floor, and a goofy smile spread

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over his sleepy-eyed face. My face had to be bloodred from the heat of it as he leaned over the edge of the bed. “You okay?” “Yep, sorry… I kinda…” “Tripped, huh?” He flung off the sheets and rolled off the bed to help me up. I sat up, getting a nice close look as his erection, which he finally noticed as I stared, mouth agape. “Jesus, sorry!” Danny's face turned bright red as he tried to shove it into his briefs while turning away. All in a morning's work, I thought, loving the fact that he was still offering his hand in order to help me up despite being embarrassed and having turned away. “All this time, and I never knew you cared,” I said in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Certainly nothing to be ashamed of going on down there.” “Jesus!” He walked into the bathroom and closed the door. I smiled and laughed a little, unable to believe I had embarrassed him. “And he doesn't even know he'd been trying to stick it up my butt.”

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Chapter Twelve It was almost eleven o'clock, and I was sitting on the window ledge in complete darkness. I'd smoked nearly a pack of cigarettes already, and as the hours had ticked by, I'd slowly come to the conclusion that Danny was indeed avoiding me. It was difficult for me to judge too harshly since Andy had called twice and I hadn't picked up either time. When I still hadn't heard from Danny by four o'clock that afternoon, I decided to text him. About forty minutes later he texted me back. To call it short was beyond understatement. He wrote Will be late tonight. I was so confused. Had I done something to scare him off? Hell, he'd jumped me, not the other way around. The whole thing had come way out of left field. It had been completely unexpected. The sex had been fantastically intense, and… Was that it? Perhaps the intensity spooked him. He was the one who'd made it so intense, not me. Why was I now being punished for it? This day had begun so beautifully, and now, hours later, I felt like jumping out the damn window. That'd learn him! I laughed a little and then began to feel my resolve slip. My eyes began to well up. I tossed one more snubbed-out filter into the jar and headed to the bathroom to pee. I flicked on the light and squinted from the brightness. It came as a small surprise that the world had sort of got dark around me as I'd sat alone in the empty loft since after lunch. I flushed and caught a glimpse of my reflection as I washed my hands, then splashed a little water on my face. My tummy growled at me, and I figured it was time to eat a little something. I turned the light off and heard muffled voices. I walked into the apartment as Danny came bursting in the front door. I froze as he shushed

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someone. He wasn't alone. I listened as he cursed under his breath while the mystery guest laughed at him. The laugh belonged to a stranger. “Turn on some fucking lights,” Danny mumbled as he flipped on the overhead light in the kitchen. Both he and his twink boy toy jumped, startled by me standing there with my arms folded. “Jesus, dude, that's fucked-up!” the younger guy said as the smile faded from Danny's face. I shut my eyes and felt a very real, sharp pain slice through my gut when the guy added, “You didn't mention anything about a three-way.” I never knew Danny had that in him. I'd already imagined that he was indeed sorry about what had happened between us, but I hadn't expected anything like this. I knew tears would soon follow as I flipped open my eyes and looked at Danny. He held firmly to a very stoic position, though for a fraction of a second I thought I saw the tiniest hint of regret. I stared at him, ignoring the babbling of his intoxicated trick until I was satisfied that he knew full well how bad I felt. It was so obviously his intent to hurt me that I wanted to make sure he knew it had worked. I finally broke our gaze, grabbed my cell and keys off the island—which for once were mercifully not difficult to find—and walked out the apartment door, slamming it shut behind me. I felt tears beginning to sting my eyes as I started down the stairs. How could he have done it? I burst out the exterior doorway onto the sidewalk and made my way to my car. By then the tears were full on running down my cheeks. I climbed into the driver's seat and slammed the door shut. The same man who had been so sweet and so supportive at my Granny Grace's funeral, how could that same man be capable of that level of cruelty? I sat back in the seat and thought back to the day of the funeral.

*****

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The funeral service had gone off without a hitch, and my parents, along with my aunt and uncle, were shaking hands as people left the church. My father had always been good to me, never put any pressure on me to be or do anything other than what I wanted or what would make me happy. I loved him for that. Despite never having a whole lot of similar interests, I'd always felt very proud of him. Even when he and Mom were ripping each other to shreds throughout my teens due to their divorce, they'd made sure I knew they each loved me. Despite the love they gave me, it was a wonder I wanted to be in love at all growing up with Mom saying things like, “Your father is suck a prick…but he loves you, sweetheart.” And my father uttering beautiful lines of prose such as, “That crackpot harpy from hell isn't getting another damn dime…but she loves you more than the air she breathes, son.” I mean, really…if I were crazy, would anybody hold it against me? I felt as though I'd come through it all in one piece. I mean, there were no little voices in my head telling me to pop a cap in anyone's ass, so I must be solid, right? It was very unsettling to watch them sitting in the church pew, next to one another and holding hands. I'd always hoped that somewhere deep down inside each of them was a tiny little grain of love they still held for one another—but this was like body snatchers or something. We actually felt like a family for the first time since I was an awkward teen. My dad reached over and took my hand during the service. I could see he was doing his level best to hold it together. I felt sad, wishing he could just let it all out and rid himself of it. I squeezed his hand, and he nodded, leaning over and softly nudging my shoulder with his. I felt Danny's fingers lightly brushing the side of my leg. I looked down and took his hand as well, appreciating the gesture and trying not to give in to the hope that it meant more than he'd intended. The service, while long and somewhat painful for my dad and uncle, finally came to a close. I'd managed to maintain my own composure despite

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welling up a time or two. I felt I needed to hold it together for Dad's sake. I excused myself from Danny and was headed to the bathroom, walking down a corridor in the back of the building. I was a little sad, so I pulled out my phone to call Gabby when I heard a noise. I stopped in the dark and creepy corridor, slightly freaked out. When I heard it again, I knew exactly what that noise was. It was coming from behind a door a little farther down the hall. I crept slowly, trying to be as quiet as a mouse, and stopped. “God yes.” The voice came from the other side of the door. I felt the corners of my mouth turn up. Who would be tacky enough to have sex in the back of a church? The door was shut, but the latch hadn't caught, so I carefully pushed on it, trying to barely breathe as I peeked through the crack. I felt my mouth fall open. There was the funeral director, sitting on a desk with pants and undies around his ankles—and none other than Jennie's new husband, Benjamin Anderson, on his knees sucking the hell out of the guy's cock. The funeral dude had his head tilted back, so he hadn't seen me. He continued to moan and whispered, “God yeah…suck that cock.” It took all that I had not to burst out laughing. I started to close the door and looked down at my hand. I'm sure the world's most evil grin spread across my face as I slowly lifted my phone and took several snapshots. I quietly pulled the door closed and continued down the hall toward the bathrooms. This year's Christmas card is really going to be the best yet.

***** Back at Granny Grace's compound, most of the mourners had finally left, although there were still a few pockets of guests scattered throughout the house and grounds. I was sitting behind the house on the small stone railing that wrapped around the huge patio area. It was an original part of the home and, while slightly tinged with age, had been beautifully maintained. The lush landscaping had faded from view as the sun disappeared down the horizon. I was relaxed by the soothing sound of the waterfall trickling into

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the pool behind me in the early evening heat. My jacket lay next to me on the railing as I continued smoking only my fifth ciggie of the day. To call it heaven was an understatement. I suddenly felt like I'd walked into some steamy Tennessee Williams play as I thought about Jennie's husband's extramarital activity. Hypocrite on a Hot Tin Roof. I nodded my head, thinking Big Daddy's got a secret. The lamppost lights flickered on, filling the patio with a warm, hazy light. Danny came sauntering out the back of the house carrying two fresh glasses of wine. He looked damn good, and as my gaze fell to his crotch, I flashed back on his erection from that morning. I felt my face flush as he sat next to me. I was chewing on my lip and felt his fingers graze mine as I took the glass from him. “You're totally thinking about my dick, aren't you?” The tone in his voice was half-teasing and half-accusatory, with a dash of shock. “I most certainly am not.” I took a drink and watched him eye me suspiciously with a sexy half smile. He lifted his own glass and took a sip, but I could sense he knew I was lying—possibly because I came off so obviously embarrassed. “It's okay.” Danny smiled and blushed a little. “It is a nice dick.” I laughed out loud, flicking my ashes over the side into the shrubbery. “You've certainly bounced back from the shy, embarrassed man you were this morning.” “Well, yeah.” Danny looked down at his shoes. “But that was…well.” “Not like we haven't caught each other butt-ass naked before.” He chuckled and took a drink. “When you're the only one standing there sporting wood…” I laughed. “Okay, I'll give you that.”

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I was about to push my luck and see what would happen when I told him where he'd been trying to stick his sporty wood, when Danny blurted out, “We shouldn't be discussing this here.” I felt my resolve to push vanish as I looked over and saw he was staring at my cousin and her husband. She was glaring at us. “Arg…that bitch.” It either came out louder than intended or ricocheted off the house, because I noticed her body stiffen. Jennie whispered something to her husband and marched back into the house. I could tell she was ready to rip off the gloves now that the funeral was over. “Simmer down there, tiger.” Danny winked at me. I took a deep breath and marveled at the power a Danny-wink seemed to have over me. “I'll behave. I gave my parents my word, and I'm going to keep it.” Danny nodded as if impressed by my maturity. “Unless she starts it,” I added. Danny shook his head, placing his head in his hands. I laughed a little as I took a final puff off my smoke and snubbed it out.

***** Throughout dinner, Jennie had been boring a hole into my head as she stared me down with the evil eyes. I ignored her as if she weren't there, catching a wink from my dad a few times, as if he were saying thank you. My mother on the other hand was beginning to fidget, which to everyone who knew her counted as a sign of an impending explosion. My aunt finally reached over and whispered something to Jennie, and she stopped. I was being subtly wicked, because I'd figured out that it was Danny's presence that had her all worked into a tizzy. Had I been alone, she'd have been able to control herself. I knew damn well when I had taken Danny's hand in the church she could see it. It wasn't why I'd held his hand, but it was like getting a free gift with purchase.

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The grand dining room was quite sizable but felt cozy with the dark woodpaneled walls and built-in cabinets. There was a floor-to-ceiling carved mantel with a creamy white marble surround, and my absolute favorite thing, the intricate wood-latticed ceiling, which had been painted a crisp white. I'd waited all through dinner until everyone was finished, so we could use bed as an excuse to keep it from going on too long. I bit my lip in an attempt to keep myself from smiling too much as I talked to Danny at the table, lightly placing my hand over his arm for a moment. I laughed softly as if I were the happiest little homo in the whole wide world, hoping no one could tell I was being fake as all hell. It took mere seconds before I heard the bang of Jennie's hand on the table. “That is just it!” Jennie stood up from her seat. “I can't take one more second of it!” I turned slowly, wide-eyed and innocent, to face Jennie. I could tell by the look on my mother's face that she knew what I was doing, but my father didn't, and neither, it seemed, did anyone else. “I cannot stand having to look at this faggotry any goddamn longer!” She was near hysterics as I leaned toward Danny, taking his hand. While I was impressed by her pop-cultury attempt at a fun new word for the kiddies at home, I was now seeing red, amazed she had the balls to say it to my face. “Jennie, I swear… Will you please go check yourself into a clinic or mental-health facility.” She was seething, but I could think of one more thing that might really shove her right off the deep end. “What's going to happen if one of your children grows up to be gay?” “You cocksucker!” she shrieked. So help me God, I did my best to not laugh, but I found it hysterical. She looked like some mad woman from an old black-and-white film like The Snake Pit.

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“Don't you laugh at me, you sick little bitch.” Her chest was heaving from anger. “One of these days…” She went on with her vehement tirade, and I suddenly realized that she truly hated me. If she'd had a gun, she'd have filled my body up with lead. I'd wanted to see her go ape-shit, and I got my wish. Both her parents and mine were up out of their seats, and it was escalating quickly into a frothing, histrionic family dustup worthy of old Tennessee Williams after all. They really shouldn't have forced the kids to go to bed early, I thought. I wouldn't have pushed it had they been at the table. Her husband finally stood up. “Come on, honey.” He took her arm to pull her away. “We don't need to stay in the same room with such perversion.” Listening to the hypocrisy coming from the cock-bobbing Ben of earlier in the day, I felt my mouth fall open. I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out my phone. This fucker was about to rue the day he'd stuck his pubesniffing nose into my business. I caught a glimpse of Jennie, all the hate in her eyes…and suddenly, something about her bothered me. There was more to her hate than the gay stuff. As her hubby turned her away, I looked into her eyes and saw the tears welling up. There was almost a stung quality, and as everyone began apologizing to me, I realized she was jealous, envious…always had been. Jennie had been perpetually tightly wound, even as a child. Most of the family couldn't stand to be around her for more than short bursts, whereas I had always been well liked. The family invariably enjoyed my company, Granny Grace especially. I actually got the feeling that even Jennie's mother liked me better than she did her own child. She obviously loved her daughter, but that was a whole different thing. I looked down at my phone, and as much as part of me wanted to do it, I couldn't. I shoved it back into my pocket and sat back into my seat. I felt instantly bad for tweaking her nose. Not that I thought it excused her nasty

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glares and the horrible things she'd always said about my orientation, but I suddenly realized what it might be like to be her. Jennie had probably been very lonely, and I was suddenly acutely aware of what it must have felt like for her coming here for Sunday dinners and family events…summer vacations, reunions, weddings. She'd hated it in her own way as much as I'd hated it in mine. “I apologize to everyone.” I looked around the table as everyone but my mother assured me I had nothing to apologize for. I knew she wasn't mad at me, because she'd been darned close to letting Jennie have it herself. But she also knew I was certainly no victim here either. I was startled when Danny took me by the chin and placed a very soft, very sweet kiss onto my lips. I was a little stunned. My mind and body connections hadn't quite had the time to react in the appropriately shocked, body-stiffening manner I knew would come only seconds after he pulled away. “I'm very proud of you,” he whispered before getting up from the table. I tilted my head as Danny walked over and started a conversation with my dad while they exited the room. I looked back down at the table, wondering what I'd done. I went over everything, trying to list out anything I thought it could possibly be. Whatever it was, I needed to do it again, and right now. More kisses, please… I'd like more. I startled as my mother placed her hand on my shoulder. I smiled as she leaned over and gave me a peck on the cheek. She placed her face right next to mine and giggled. “You're desperately trying to figure out what you did to make him kiss you, aren't you?” I immediately sat rigid and scowled at her. “Don't be ridiculous.” She stood up and began to walk away as she called back at me, “You look just like your father does when he starts in with the fibbin'.”

*****

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As I took off my clothes, I could hear the water running while Danny brushed his teeth on the other side of the closed bathroom door. I was hoping he'd come back into the bedroom sporting an erection like the one I'd seen that morning. I looked at Danny's suit, tossed haphazardly across the bed. I'd apparently done something good at dinner, so maybe I was to be rewarded with more than a kiss? I heard the water cut off as I removed my shirt. The bathroom door swung open and out walked a whistling Danny, wearing nothing but his briefs. I hesitated with my pants, feeling my cock stir. “I'm beat.” Danny lifted his arms up, stretching, which did nothing to help my swelling dick go down. I could tell he'd just washed his face, because his cheeks were still a little rosy from the cold water. He eyed me oddly, and I continued to undress, realizing I'd been staring. I turned away, letting my pants fall to the floor as I stepped out of them. I went directly into the bathroom and shut the door. I attempted some deep breaths and looked down between my legs to give my dick the evil eye. It gave way to my inner threats of not playing with it for a month should it decide to be uncooperative. I brushed my teeth and washed my face in the tiny little white porcelaintiled bathroom. There was no delaying anymore. I spun around and opened the door. Danny was sprawled on top of the bed, one leg bent, knee in the air, one hand behind his head. His body was deliciously displayed; the well-developed, slightly heaving chest looked totally lickable, with his other hand resting on his tight abs just above the elastic of his boxer briefs. He turned his head and looked at me, lightly licking his lips. I couldn't decide if that was instinctive or intentional. I quickly went to the bed and threw back the sheet. My cock was already beginning to respond to the sights before me, and despite my threats to ignore the little guy, I couldn't really blame him. Danny was a mouthwatering mound of muscles, and the meat between his— “I'm very proud of you, Julian.”

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I instantly felt like dirt; in that very moment my carnal thoughts were reducing the poor man to mere beefcake. “You are?” I asked a little too seriously. He smiled at me—devastating—and rolled onto his side to face me. Eyes on his face, eyes on his face, you dirty, dirty… “Why didn't you show Jennie those pics you snapped of her husband and the funeral director?” “How the hell—” “Don't change the damn subject,” he interrupted. His face soap mixed with his natural scent and the tiniest bit of what was left from his deodorant drifted to my nostrils. I was distracted by his scent and by the sight of him as he absently ran his fingers over his stomach. I couldn't think clearly. It was like sending a cow into a slaughterhouse to ask for directions. I was incredibly turned on, beyond vulnerable, and at enough of a disadvantage as it was. “I followed you to the restroom,” he finally offered. “I was coming down the hall at the church, and I saw you taking pictures of something. I took a peek once you went into the bathroom.” “It was bad…I know.” Christ, please let Danny be my punishment…over and over… He can fuck me into submission… I'll be an angel from here on out, I swear it. “I…um…well, why should I let her know? I think it's funny that she of all people is married to a big closet homo.” Danny was looking intently into my eyes. “You're lying.” He laughed as I apparently let some sign he was right pass across my face. “Nice try, but I saw the look on your face at the table earlier. You had that phone in hand, ready to go, then bam…you looked suddenly sad and disappointed.” Danny scooted a little closer to me as I rolled onto my side in an attempt to hide my now-raging erection.

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“You wanted to shove that phone in her face, I could tell, but you suddenly couldn't let yourself do it.” I rolled my eyes, really hating the fact that he seemed to be able to see right through me. I felt naked and exposed. “I knew that it would ruin her completely, not just seeing it, but having me be the one.” He let out a belly laugh, as if knowing I hated admitting that to him. “You're a good man, Julian.” I looked away from his gaze, and my eyes landed on the thick dick that lay under his boxer briefs. If it were hard like it had been that morning, I would have gone for it in that moment. I needed to calm myself down. This man whom I wanted horribly had me emotionally stripped down, and I felt uneasy. Danny leaned in and once again kissed me softly. I waited momentarily to see if he would push further—a sign. I was mortified to discover that I'd been leaning forward as if to prevent the kiss from getting away. I completely stopped breathing, unable to believe I'd just revealed even more of myself. His gaze ran down my body, then back to my eyes. He looked at me as if he could smell my arousal. My mind was racing as I lay there, trapped in his sights…a helpless deer in the scope. I'd already told him to take me, not in words, but certainly in body language. Was I meant to beg? When I couldn't take it anymore, I rolled over away from him. I reached over and turned off the bedside lamp and shut my eyes. “Good night.” Why had I just done that? Well, because I'd practically said, Please fuck me, and he didn't. “Good night,” Danny said softly from behind me. I felt him move around, rolling away from me too, I suppose. I wanted to die. He'd allowed me to expose my want for him and then done nothing? What the hell was I blaming him for? He tried to pay me a lovely compliment, and my dirty-dirty need tried to twist that into something he never meant it to be.

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I shut my eyes even more tightly, doing my best to slowly breathe in and out in an attempt to relax my body. A tap on the shoulder could have sent me springing into the air. I eventually became hypnotized by the intermittent soft rattle of the chain on the ceiling fan, which finally lulled me into a restless sleep.

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Chapter Thirteen I sat in my car in front of Gabby's house unable to stop crying. As I thought back over that night after Granny Grace's funeral, I felt again as naked and exposed as I had then. I was angry because I'd promised myself the morning after that humiliation that I would never allow it to happen again. My whole Reverse Operation Danny had gone into effect soon after we'd returned home. What the hell had happened? How could I have allowed him back into me…body and soul this time? Was I some kind of emotional masochist yet unaware of my sickness? It was the worst I'd ever felt. I'd cried over a guy before, but never anything like this. My chest ached something awful. It felt as if something inside me was trying to eat its way out. I thought I might literally be in danger of dying from the ache. This was no romance-movie cry. This was a full-on, racked-withsobs-and-snot-running-out-of-your-nose cry. I knew one thing with certainty. If I was able to survive this, I never wanted to love like this again. I jumped a little hearing the soft tapping on the passenger-side window. Gabby was bent to look through the glass. I clicked the door locks open. She slid into the seat. She was in her cotton sweat shorts and a ribbed T-shirt, all legs and arms and hair. I squinted against the brightness of the dome light, and she pulled the door shut. “Julian, I…” I knew she knew by the tone of her voice. What else would I be doing sitting in front of her house bawling my eyes out only twenty-four hours after sleeping with the man with whom I was so desperately in love? I looked over at her. “He doesn't want me.”

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“I know. I'm sorry, baby.” She reached over and rubbed my back softly. “And he's making a huge mistake.” I leaned forward to rest my forehead on the steering wheel as she tried her best to comfort me. “I don't understand, Gabby. What did I do wrong?” She shushed me, massaging the back of my neck as she hummed softly to the radio playing quietly in the background. It was just loud enough to make out the song: “Since U Been Gone.” Great, I thought. And I love Kelly Clarkson. Now I'll never be able to hear this song again. I laughed a little at the ridiculousness of the thought. My heart's breaking, and I'm pissed off about Kelly Clarkson? I sat up in the car seat and looked over at Gabby. “Need a smoke?” she asked. “Like a rent boy needs a bump.” We both began to laugh a little, but I felt my eyes begin to well up again. Gabby smiled and gave me a look that told me I was going to be okay. “No more of that, now.” She gave me a pat on the leg and opened the car door. I took a deep breath and sniffled. I gathered up my phone and turned off my engine, then removed the keys from the ignition. I wiped my cheeks on my shoulders and exited the vehicle, hitting the Lock button on my remote. I followed Gabby up the sidewalk toward the porch. Gabby and Brad's apartment was the first floor of a Queen Anne-style Victorian. The huge three-story house had a large wraparound porch with Doric columns. We climbed the five steps onto the porch, and she went over to a resin container by the front door. She yanked the lid off and pulled out a pack of smokes, a lighter, and a small glass ashtray. We both sat down on the porch swing, and I sniffled as I took the ciggie she offered.

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“What the hell is it about me that drives them away? I'm like manthrax, Gabby. One dose and it's over. Lights out on all the happiness.” Gabby laughed a little and gave me a squeeze. “This isn't your fault, Julian. This is bullshit. I don't know what the fuck Danny was thinking, but he knew what he'd be getting into with you before shoving his tongue down your throat.” “Damn, he was such a good kisser.” I started to well up again. “Sorry. Okay, no more talk like that.” Gabby patted my chest lightly. “I just don't get it, that's all. One minute you're watching a movie, and the next…” “All up in my shit!” I shrugged, getting a little tired of her continuous digging for something that wasn't there. Damn reporters are never satisfied. “I didn't do anything to instigate it.” “Right, sorry… I just…” She crinkled her forehead. “He couldn't have been that stupid.” “And thanks again.” I shook my head. “Perhaps I'd be better off finding the nearest cliff and driving off it.” “That's not what I meant.” Gabby patted my chest again, this time less lightly. I could see that her mind was racing. “What the hell were you watching, porn?” “Anne of Avonlea!” I yelled, my voice shooting up several octaves. Gabby really lost it, letting out a throaty laugh. “Why don't you stay here tonight? We can pull out the sleeper sofa, eat too much chocolate, and watch old episodes of Veronica Mars.” “Bran won't mind?” She gave me a dirty look for the Bran comment. “No, because he's a good, decent, and kind man.” “Sheesh, rub it in, why doncha?” I smiled a little, sniffling again.

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“God, you're a nutcase. You know that, right?” I nodded and breathed a resigned sigh. We sat out on the porch swing and smoked one more cigarette before heading into her apartment. We pulled the old, creaky bed out of the sleeper sofa, and it made me a bit nostalgic. We'd spent a lot of time on that hide-a-bed when we had our apartment together. That was back before Bran swooped in and absconded with my best friend. I knew I really needed to get over that, but it was difficult. Gabby was practically like another limb to me. I loved her more than anybody. Well, except maybe my parents. The little bastard had no right to come in and steal my womenfolk. Considering I had neither the nine inches nor the desire to know my BFF in the biblical, I should try to let it go and be satisfied with the knowledge that he made her happy. Unfortunately, I was a bit selfish.

***** I went back to the loft the following morning. I'd become so wrapped up in my meltdown that I'd completely forgotten about my mother flying in that afternoon. On top of that, I had a date with Andy that same night, and I'd neglected to take his calls the whole day before while I sat by the phone waiting for Danny. That neglect alone could be enough to solve the problem with Andy. If it were me, I'd more than likely not want to see me anymore. I wasn't sure why I was holding off on calling Andy. Obviously I needed to tell him that some unexpected “things” had popped up over the weekend, that under the circumstances, it would be best if he and I put things on hold for a while. As I got ready for lunch with Gabby, I began to wonder why I should call a halt to any relationship with Andy. Things didn't look as bad once morning arrived. I'd had my cry, and it was over. Was it really necessary for me to allow Danny to ruin what I might have with Andy? It was bad enough he'd more than likely ruined our friendship, not to mention that I wasn't sure I could continue to live with him.

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I put a tiny amount of lotion in my hands and rubbed them together before massaging it into my face. I wasn't at all sure what to do. And as much as I didn't want to admit it, there was something else. I was trying to block out the voice in the back of my brain reminding me that what had happened with Danny was something I'd wanted. It was true. And to some extent, despite not physically doing anything to instigate what had been the greatest sex of my life, I had in fact for months done everything in my power to let him know I'd be open to it. My forehead crinkled a bit as I opened a drawer and pulled out my deodorant. Partly to blame or not, I wasn't one of Danny's good-time boys, and he knew it. The way that he had— I stopped the thought for a moment, taking a deep breath as I vigorously ran the stick under my arms, feeling the rage build. It was obvious Danny was fairly drunk, but bringing that fucking twink home with him last night, that was cold. That's the kind of shit that drove Glenn Close to the bunny-boiling point in Fatal Attraction. Of that I was sure. Realistically I knew I could never do anything like that to a real rabbit, but if Danny had happened to have a stuffed animal rabbit, that little fucker would so be toast right now! I pictured myself maniacally hacking away at the poor, defenseless stuffed animal, faux fur and cottony stuffing flying through the air. I laughed evilly as I squirted toothpaste onto the brush. I'm not going to let Danny do it. Andy and I are on like Donkey Kong, motherfucker! I nodded as I scrubbed my teeth robustly. I bet if I were to toecurlingly fuck Andy senseless, he wouldn't want to toss me aside the next day. I spit into the sink and pointed my toothbrush threateningly at the mirror. “Yeah!” I frowned. Then I reached over and tore off toilet paper to wipe off the spit and toothpaste I'd inadvertently flung onto the mirror. I tossed the paper into the trash and rinsed off my toothbrush.

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***** Once more, I was on a key hunt. I spied them lying on the kitchen counter, where I'd tossed them in haste when I'd returned to the apartment. Next to them was a note from Danny asking me to pick him up at the bookstore on my way to the airport. I'll pick you up…and toss your ass in front of some oncoming traffic. I gritted my teeth a bit, then exhaled dramatically before forcing on a smile as I snatched up the note. I'd already decided not to say anything to Mom about any of this. I knew Danny loved her, and she him. The thought of doing anything to come between them made me sick to my stomach. The ride to the airport would give us a chance to sort out a thing or two before Mom arrived and got blended up into the mix. As I rushed out to meet Gabby, I tripped on the long, skinny carpet runner behind the couch and fell face-first into the floor. I barely managed to keep from smacking my face. Feeling the dull ache in my elbows, I knew right away that the tumble would leave a mark. I pulled myself back up, letting out a string of expletives. I slammed the loft door shut behind me and made my way down the stairwell. When I got to the bottom of the stairs, it was the first that I'd noticed the rain pouring down like mad. Could my day get any worse? I contemplated going back upstairs to get an umbrella but decided that I was already going to be late as it was. I made a mad dash for my car, using the keyless entry. I flung open the door and slid into the driver's seat. I'd already called Andy and used my mother as the excuse for my bad manners the previous day. She'd be so pleased to know that, I thought, shoving my key into the ignition. Andy hadn't seemed too upset by the fact that I hadn't taken his calls, declaring he knew I was the kind of person who would have a very good excuse for such behavior. That, of course, made me feel like a big, steamy pile of poo. While I had a good reason from my perspective, from Andy's, it wasn't a very nice one.

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Putting the car into reverse and backing out, I began to seriously wonder why I was still alone. I thought about the boyfriends I'd had. There'd been one or two who were at least maybes. In the end, they'd just opted to spend their lives with someone other than me. I weaved my little Mini Cooper through traffic, the windshield wipers swaying back and forth. As I replayed their blow-off lines in my head, I decided it must've been the cosmos's way of balancing out my usually optimistic attitude. “You're great and wonderful. I just don't think we're right for each other.” What did that mean? I was too great and too wonderful for him to deal with on a daily basis? No, it meant: I like you; I just don't love you. Then there was “You're just too perky.” I'm sorry, but someone who'd pissed the last ten years of his or her life away could not be considered perky. Perky people are doers, which I most certainly was not. What he'd meant to say was I'm not cynical. Just because I didn't rip other people to shreds behind their backs didn't make me chipper. I just wasn't the Antichrist. There was the ever-painful “I don't think our chance for longevity looks very promising.” All that time, and I never knew I was dating a fucking psychic. What else could one expect from a freakin' Gemini? There had, of course, been a plethora at the other end of the spectrum: the deceivers. God, I hated that moment, the one where I'd wake up three months into a relationship and the man lying next to me would look at me. I'd look at him and smile, still anxiety-riddled over morning breath. He'd open his mouth and speak. I'd look at him funny. He seemed like the same man I'd spent all this time with, but he suddenly sounded and acted differently. Several days of this would go by, and I'd be thinking, Evil twin? Body snatcher? Alien abduction? Then it would finally dawn on me: It was the real him. The one he'd been concealing. The sweet, loving, melt-my-heart man I thought I'd landed was really a conceited, narcissistic psychopath I wouldn't want to be caught alone with in a dark alley.

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The most depressing part of it all was that I couldn't help but feel as though I would've been happier if an alien had split open the guy's chest and scurried off down the hall. At least then he could've remained the perfect man I'd envisioned him to be. Not the man who'd lied, concealed, and tricked my heart, but the victim of a horrible, wretched, brain-numbing, mind-boggling accident. Then I'd be able to play the widow and wear a bitchin' black veil. Laugh if you will, but don't think for one minute I wouldn't find a way to wear the veil. I'd be able to cry, sob, and have people say things like What a tragedy and They were so in love.

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Chapter Fourteen As I walked up to the table in the bar, Gabby was lost in her thoughts, looking out over the dining room. I guessed the heavy rain was going to have us eating in the bar so we could still smoke. “Boo,” I said, grabbing her arm. She screamed and grabbed onto the table as she lost her balance in the chair. “Asshole,” she said, taking a swing at me. I dodged her fist and made a dash for my side of the table, laughing hysterically. “That's not funny. Jesus.” I tried to catch my breath and stop laughing. “I'm sorry.” She was beginning to laugh at me laughing at her. “Fucker.” The waitress came over, shaking her head at us. She told us the specials, and we each placed our order and watched as she made her way back toward the bar. “You seem much…better.” Gabby watched my face intently, as if looking for the hairline porcelain cracks hiding just under the surface. I lit myself a ciggie and leaned back into my chair. “I'm fine. It's over now, and I can get on with my new life with Andy.” She slowly lifted her glass and took a sip from it. “So you're still going on with that?” “Why not?” I asked a little louder than I meant to. I took a quick puff, settling myself, and added, “Danny doesn't want me, but Andy does. Why should I let this minor bump in the road derail that?” “Minor bump?” Gabby sat up in her chair and leaned forward. “Julian—” “I really don't care to discuss it.” I cut her off. “I've made my decision.”

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She leaned back in her seat and shook her head at me. “The way you compartmentalize everything frightens the shit outta me.” I smiled, but I could tell by the look on her face she was worried I was going to snap at some point, taking countless innocent bystanders with me. I told her about the conversation I'd had with Andy, along with the note from Danny. Gabby was surprised, and I realized that in all the drama, I'd neglected to tell her my mother was coming. I asked if it was okay if we brought her to the dinner party. “Of course I don't mind. I love your mother.” She readjusted her position in the chair. “With Mom in town, I don't know how much help I'm going to be with your party.” I took another puff off my smoke. “Who asked for your help?” she said indignantly and took a sip from her martini. “I'm going to do this all by myself.” “Oh sure.” I rolled my eyes. “So who are you getting to cater?” She finished off the last of her martini. “I am cooking. There will be no caterer. I am doing it all myself.” I turned my cigarette in the ashtray, knocking off the loose ashes. “You can't even make mac and cheese without burning it.” “Funny. I'm going to make a meal that will knock you on your ass. It's just food. I can do this.” I looked at her, worried. The waitress had returned and placed our salads in front of us. “I'll make sure we eat a little something before we come over.” “Bastard.” She smiled at me. “I can do this. I will do this.” “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” I asked, taking a bite of my chicken Caesar salad. “Just you wait, 'Enry 'Iggins. Just you wait.” I laughed and then prayed: Please let her be serving Hot Pockets or pizza rolls. “If you say so, darling.”

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As we finished up our lunch, I was grateful Gabby left the Danny subject alone, despite the fact that I knew it was killing her. She would much rather have sat there with me and dissected it like a high school science experiment. To her credit, she for once let the reporter side of her personality take a backseat and was simply my best friend. As we left, she asked me to be sure to invite my mother to lunch tomorrow. I told her Mom would probably love that, and if there were any problems, I'd call and let her know. When we hugged our good-byes, I held on a little longer than usual, and Gabby gave me that one extra squeeze of love I needed before going to pick up Danny.

***** I sat in the parking lot of Paoli's with my hands gripping the steering wheel. The engine was humming softly, and it was very quiet and peaceful. I seriously thought I might actually just stay right there and wait, hoping to wake up from the nightmare. A full twenty-four hours hadn't even passed since Danny had broken me. How was that even possible? I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Getting a flash of Danny kissing that twink from the night before, I quickly reopened them. I slammed the gear into reverse and began singing, “I am homo, hear me roar” under my breath as I backed the car out of the spot. The tires squealed a little as I pulled out of the parking lot. Weaving the car through traffic, I began to calm myself back down. For my mom's sake, I was going to hold everything together. I knew she was also the closest thing Danny had ever had to a mom, so despite the fact that I was imagining myself skewering his ass with a spit, shoving an apple in his mouth, and slowly turning his body over a barbecue pit, I couldn't seem to muster the cruelty it would require to hurt him the way he'd hurt me. The first time Mom laid eyes on Danny, her eyes got as big and greedy as mine had the first time I'd seen him. Hearing about Danny's family life and the

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way he'd grown up was all it took. From that point on, he was her son too. She sent him care packages when she sent mine. He'd get chicken soup overnighted when he had a cold, and she'd even tried to buy him a car. This was not to say that Danny needed her to buy him a car. Danny made a good living—certainly enough to take care of himself. I'm not really even sure why he'd decided to take on a roommate. But my mother hated, loathed, and despised Danny's motorcycle. She fretted over him getting hurt on that bike more than anything else. She made Danny promise to never take me anywhere on it and jabbed at him every chance she got to get rid of what she deemed “the deathtrap.” As I pulled up in front of the bookstore, I caught a glimpse of the shiny chrome and black bike sitting under the awning, out of the rain. Damn, he looked hot straddling that thing. I spotted him inside the store, walking around the counter with his keys and coat. No, wait. He most certainly did not look good straddling anything, I reminded myself. He was a man-pig from hell. I felt my chest begin to ache as he opened the passenger-side door and slid into my car. My toy car, he called it. I felt my resolve begin to slip as he locked eyes with me, holding my gaze as if by force. Fuck me, Christina, the smell of him…those goddamn books. “Hey.” Not the apology I was looking for, but it was soft-spoken, sweet even. “Hey.” I'd tried my hardest to make that come off as light, upbeat even. The expression on his face told me I'd missed the mark. He looked both guilty and ashamed. “I'm so sorry, Julian.” “It's…it is what it is.” I watched him, praying he'd take my hand or kiss me. Anything to let me know he cared. “I shouldn't have done it.” He looked down at his hands as they fiddled with his keys.

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At least he seemed to genuinely feel bad about it. “I honestly don't know what came over me.” Danny glanced back up at me. His expression told me what mine was saying as he reacted to the softening of my resolve. “That's not to say it wasn't incredible, but I shouldn't have done it.” I felt that cut through my chest, and he noticed my reaction. How could he sit there and tell me his little dalliance with his trick last night was incredible? How sick was this asshole? “Honest to God, Julian, it wasn't planned.” He turned away from me. “I don't understand it. You just looked so good all of a sudden, and it was like I couldn't control myself. In that instant I just had to have you. It was a mistake, and I'm so very sorry.” I took in a sharp breath and began to pull the car away from the curb. And I'd thought it was bad when I'd assumed he'd been talking about his trick from last night. It was much worse realizing it was his Sunday-night trick he'd been to referring to the whole time. Me. I was the terrible mistake. I felt lightheaded, but I knew the only thing that might keep me sane was having to concentrate on driving. “Julian, please…” “I'd really like it if we could not talk.” I was shocked by how tiny my voice sounded. I glanced over and could see Danny was tearing up. I knew he had to be doing his level best not to, but his eyes were becoming watery. “Look, Danny, if you really want to help me right now, let's just each agree to let this all go for now. I don't want Mom's visit to be ruined, so let's just keep it all held together for the next few days, and once she goes back home we can sit down and try to work this all out.” “You know the last thing I'd want is to hurt you or her.” “So let's put on smiley fun-time faces so she won't go home worrying about anything.”

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“Okay, I can do that.” “Great!” I forced a smile and a laugh that sounded a bit manic. I sat up straight in my seat and dug deep down into the back of my mind, trying to shove all the Danny drama into a large closet, forcing the doors closed. I exhaled heavily and turned to smile at him. He smiled back with what seemed like the tiniest tinge of fear over my amazing transformation. One thing Danny would probably never understand about me was that when it came to my mother, I was capable of superhuman feats when it meant keeping her from seeing things I didn't want her to. And where Delilah was concerned, the only way to hide anything from her was to constantly keep my guard up.

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Chapter Fifteen Danny and I were standing at the end of the terminal as my mother glided along the corridor wearing a muted yellow skirt and jacket with a widebrimmed black hat. She looked stunning, her blonde curls framing her face. She smiled immediately upon seeing us, and my heart nearly burst with pride. She looked exactly like an excited little girl when she smiled. I still to this day can't ever remember seeing any woman who appears to have one-tenth of the effortless glamour and beauty that my mother seemed to possess in abundance. To look at her, you would never guess that she was in her fifties. Her voluptuous figure still had men turning for a second glance. She easily passed for ten to fifteen years younger, and I couldn't help but pray that I'd inherited her genes. I threw my arms around her. “Mother, you look exquisite.” “Julian,” she said in her singsong tone, kissing my cheek. “I am so glad I came. I've missed you, honey.” She pulled away from me and added, “I want to get a look at my boy. I swear, every time I see you, you look more and more like your granddaddy.” She turned to Danny, who was smiling from ear to ear. “And you, you handsome devil, you.” She snatched him by the arm and yanked him over, giving him a hug. “Are you taking care of my baby?” Oh yes, Momma. I'm one tiny-ass shove away from the crazy house. He's doing an excellent job of taking care of me. “Yes, ma'am.” Danny hugged her while shifting his gaze over at me. “It's good to see you, Delilah. We've missed you.” “You boys!” She pulled away. “So sweet, I could just chew you up.”

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“You look lovely, Delilah,” Danny said. “Danny,” she scolded before tossing on her sweetest, most innocent smile. “I told you to call me 'Mom.' You're practically my son-in-law anyway.” It was going to be a lot more difficult than I'd thought. I felt my chest expand and my stomach drop. I looked at Danny. His face had turned bright red, just not for the reasons my mother was probably thinking. “Mother, you haven't even been here five minutes. Honestly.” “Well, no sense in wasting time, sweetie. You know I don't mince words. Now let's go get my luggage, shall we?” As we walked through the airport toward the baggage claim, I turned the attention back onto her, asking if she was seeing anyone. It wasn't that I cared if she had been, so much as I wanted to keep the topic away from me and Danny. She seemed to hesitate for a moment as she wrapped her arms around Danny's and my waists. Then she told us all about the new man she'd been seeing. I marveled at the way she lit up, smiling away as she told us stories and giggled. She'd met her new man at a PFLAG meeting, and she wasted no time informing me that he had a son in Seattle who was a chef at some hip, new restaurant and happily settled with a stockbroker. I rolled my eyes. I swear, she acted as if I'd been trying to dodge the draft. I couldn't think of anyone I knew more committed to getting a commitment than I was.

After we'd all climbed into the Mini Cooper—Mom in the passenger seat and Danny scrunched into the back—we headed for her hotel. I told her about Andy and the plans I'd made with him before she'd called to let me know she was coming. “You're still going—” Danny sounded surprised as he cut himself off. I caught a glimpse of him fidgeting in the backseat. “So…um, I was going to take you to dinner tonight,” he continued.

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“Of course I should probably cancel—” I started before Mom held up a hand. “I insist you keep your date,” she said. “I'll have myself a night out on the town with my other man.” I laughed a little, seeing Danny smile and blush in the backseat. It broke my heart a little more seeing him care so deeply for her. I knew full well he had it in him; it was right there on his face. He just didn't have it for me. I told her all about Gabby's dinner party the next night, and she seemed excited about the prospect of having lunch with Gabby and me the next day. “That all just sounds lovely.” She was stealthily looking over my car. I wasn't sure if she was snooping or sizing it up because it had been a gift from Dad. “So I'll get to meet this new man you're seeing?” “Yes, Mom. He'll be there.” “Good,” she said. “How is Gabby? I just love that girl. She always reminded me of myself when I was younger.” “Don't worry, Mom. She's still as mouthy as ever.” “Julian, women aren't mouthy; they're opinionated.” She opened a compartment and spied the pack of ciggies. “If you don't stop it with these things, I'm just—” She was getting herself all worked up. “I keep telling him they're going to kill him,” Danny piped up from the backseat. He shrugged an apology as I gave him the evil eye through the rearview mirror. “I'll quit right after you leave.” I smiled sweetly at her. “You said that last time I was here.” She slammed the compartment door shut. “Boys who lie to their mothers—” “Go to a very special bad place in hell,” I finished for her with an overly melodramatic sigh. “Yes, Mother. I know. I'm very sorry.” Not that there'd be much point in regard to the cigarettes, but there was never any sense in

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arguing with my mother. She was right, whether factual or not, and there was nothing anyone could say that would change her mind. Once we got her all checked in and settled into her room, we hugged, and I told her I'd call her later. My mother would require a little beauty nap after the stress and strain of travel. Danny gave her a peck on the cheek and told her he'd be by at seven to pick her up. She smiled like a greedy child once again as we started to leave, obviously very happy to have come.

***** “I think that went well,” Danny said, breaking the silence as I drove him back to the bookstore. I huffed a little puff of air. “Yep, she didn't seem to suspect a thing.” I reached down and turned on the radio, hoping it would stifle the apparent need Danny felt to break the silence. Odd behavior from him, considering that was generally my role in life, not his. “It's great you're keeping your date,” Danny blurted out. Apparently my evil radio plan hadn't worked after all. “Why wouldn't I?” “Oh…no reason, I…uh… Never mind.” I caught his eye, and he quickly turned away to look out the passenger window. What in the name of Sam Hill was his deal? Then I had to smile a bit. Was it possible that it wounded his ego to know I was able to move on so quickly? My victory lasted mere moments. Deep down I knew he couldn't care less. “I guess we're okay, then?” he asked but continued to keep his face turned away. Fuck no, we're not okay. “I guess, I don't—” I stopped because I wasn't sure anymore, and I was beginning to feel like Sally Field in Sybil, flitting from one extreme emotion to another. “We'll just have to see where things stand after Mom goes back home. Right now I just want to concentrate on keeping her…out of it.”

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“You're not thinking of moving out or anything?” He finally turned to look at me and seemed…concerned? I was pretty much leaning in that direction but couldn't for the life of me understand why he'd care either way. “I don't know, Danny. Can we please…?” “Right, sorry, you don't want to talk about it.” He stared back out the window. I shook my head a little. I felt very irritable and was dying for a cigarette, cursing my refusal to smoke in my car. We finally made it to the bookstore, having spent the rest of the ride in blessed silence. He started to get out of the car, then stopped. “Have a good time tonight.” He was looking at me all smiley, and I wanted to kiss him—or punch him, I wasn't quite sure anymore and perhaps it was a little of both. “You too.” He started to reach over to do something and then stopped. He finally grabbed my shoulder and gave it a little squeeze before exiting the car. I began driving away from the curb before the door was even shut all the way. I couldn't get out of there fast enough. My shoulder felt tingly from where he'd touched me, and I decided I couldn't take it a second longer as I fished out my smokes. I steered the car with my knees as I lit one and inhaled, feeling an instant calm begin to wash over my body. I rolled down the window a bit despite the drizzle and exhaled. For the first time since before lunch, I was allowed to feel what I wanted to without having to worry about anyone else's feelings.

The

only

problem

I

had

was

that

after

all

my

emotional

shuffleboarding, I no longer knew what that was.

***** I picked up the printout with the directions Andy had e-mailed after we'd talked that morning. Studying them momentarily, I picked up my keys and walked over to the mirror next to the front door. As I checked myself out in jeans and a plain white button-down, I heard Danny's bedroom door open. My mouth fell open a bit seeing him through the reflection of the mirror. He was

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wearing that Hugo Boss suit that we'd bought him for Granny Grace's funeral. I'd forgotten how damn good he looked dressed up, because otherwise his entire wardrobe consisted of jeans, T-shirts, and leather jackets of different styles. “About to head out?” he asked, walking over to the island and flipping through the mail. “Ya-huh.” I stared at him like a cobra mesmerized by the snake charmer. I blinked and went toward the door, then turned back. “You look…great.” “Thanks, Julie.” He looked up at me and smiled. “Have a good time.” “You too.” I spun around just in time to walk face-first into the front door. Shit. Good God, you dork, get a grip. It's just a man in a suit. I opened the door, and as I was pulling it shut behind me, I heard Danny chuckling. I shook my head, wanting to go back in and deck him. At least that's what I told myself I wanted to go back in and do.

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Chapter Sixteen I stopped on the way to Andy's and picked up a bottle of the wine we'd shared on our first date. I pulled up in front of his house, a one-story Craftsman bungalow with broad overhanging eaves and a low-pitch gable roof. I grabbed the bottle and made my way up the walkway to the large front porch, up the steps, and through the stucco-covered columns. I stopped at the solidwood panel door. I puffed out a little breath, ran my hand over my shirt to make sure no cigarette ashes were on it, and knocked on the door. He answered the door wearing jeans. His untucked baby blue button-up was unbuttoned at the top, showing a little of his tanned, hairless chest. Damn if he didn't have perfect skin. “You look great.” Andy was smiling from ear to ear. “I've been downright delirious all day knowing I was going to get to see you tonight.” “You have?” I was surprised that he would admit such a thing, and I, of course, found it extremely endearing. Especially after Danny, who never said what he meant. He led me into the kitchen, and I handed him the bottle of wine. He looked at it and smiled, as if to let me know he remembered it as well. He retrieved a wine key from a drawer and proceeded to open it. He told me he'd already picked up dinner, which I could smell warming in the oven. I apologized again for taking so long to call him back. Andy asked if I was sure that I didn't need to go spend time with my mother. I loved that he was so thoughtful. I also loved that he seemed relieved when I reassured him that she insisted I not break our date.

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“I feel a little awful stealing you from her.” Andy retrieved two wineglasses from a cabinet next to the sink. “I'm sure you don't get to see her very much.” “Well, she seems very interested in meeting you tomorrow night.” I took a glass from him and indulged in a sip of wine. I pulled the plates out of the way as he removed the steaming pan from the oven and set it down on the kitchen counter. “I'm more than a little nervous about meeting her.” He transferred the hot food to the plates. “What if I'm not what she's expecting?” “Andy.” I picked up our glasses, along with the bottle of wine, and followed him into the living room, where he had the coffee table already set with napkins and silverware. “You are what I would describe as every parent's wet dream of a son-in-law. I wouldn't worry about making a good first impression.” After we each set our burdens down on the coffee table, he turned me around and kissed me. I slid my arms around his waist, and he pulled in closer. He slowly and very tenderly slid his tongue into my mouth, kissing me softly with just a touch of heat before finally pulling away. He brushed his lips lightly over mine and smiled. “I've wanted to do that for days.” I smiled and wondered why it was that I hadn't been thinking all weekend about kissing him. As a matter of fact, I hadn't thought about him since talking to him Saturday afternoon. Of course, I had been more than a little distracted, if not downright sidetracked. I felt a little pang of guilt as I looked at Andy. There had to be something here, I thought. Why else would I still want to see him? As we each sat down on the couch, he asked, “Do you want to go ahead and start a movie, or would you rather talk for a while first?” “I don't care, whatever you want to do,” I said. “What movies did you get?” “Well,” he said, smiling, “I figured I'd be safe with anything that had Meg Ryan or Julia Roberts in it.”

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I laughed at his obvious pride in appealing to my fixation on romantic comedy, but I felt a tiny sting that he was off by a few decades. I'd have preferred Katharine Hepburn or Greer Garson. “You think you're pretty smart, don't you?” “Well, let's see.” He leaned over and kissed me again, running his hands into my hair. Pulling away, he added, “Yeah, I'm thinking I got it right.” “And awfully cute.” I reached up and ran my fingers along his chin and cheek. I could tell he'd shaved recently, which meant he'd rushed home from work in order to get ready for me. It was sweet, and I felt a jab of guilt in my chest that I quickly forced out of my mind. He smiled. “We better eat. I don't think this food can take a third reheat.” I smiled, picked up my knife and fork, and cut off a piece of my fish. When I leaned down to take a bite, I noticed a Bible sitting on top of a stack of books on the other side of the square coffee table. Why would that be lying out? Maybe he's still unpacking and was just now getting to the boxes of stuff he didn't really use but couldn't throw away because he was a pack rat? Maybe he'd just forgotten to put it away? Maybe it's a family heirloom? I took a bite of the fish and stopped chewing when I noticed the brass cross sitting on top of some type of prayer book next to the Bible. “What's all this?” I asked, pointing to the stack of books. “Huh?” He looked to where my finger was pointing. “Oh, just my Bible and a book of prayers I like. Man, I never asked you what your faith was, did I?” Don't you mean cult? Try none. They're all evil. “Um, I don't really have a faith other than believing you shouldn't wear brown belts with black shoes. You?” “I'm Southern Baptist,” he said nonchalantly, as if referring to what dry cleaner he used. “You should come to church with me,” he added excitedly. I'd rather have the skin burned off my body, I thought. And don't think for one minute I didn't just hear all those hell jokes, people!

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“I've actually started going to a gay church since moving here, a type of nondenominational place.” Andy took a bite of food and shrugged. “I liked my old church better, where my family went, but at least I don't have to hide who I am anymore, right?” “Um…well, sure.” I cocked my head to the side and smiled while wishing he'd kept this portion of his personality hidden from me. “I don't really get into all of that.” That's putting it mildly. “Didn't you go to church when you were little?” he asked. “Well, my parents are Catholic, but after they divorced, we didn't really go on a regular basis.” I shoveled in another morsel of yummy fish, thinking that whoever the chef was deserved a little worship. “Wow, we went to Wednesday-evening, Sunday-morning, and Sundayevening services every week. We even had family Bible studies during the week, when I was little.” Andy picked up his glass and watched me as he took a sip. Christ, I'm dating a Jesus freak—a Republican Jesus freak, at that. “You voted for Bush, didn't you?” I asked, smiling as if it were a joke. “Well yeah,” he said. “Look what the Democrats have done to the country.” Fuck me. Can I get a break here? Next he'll be saying Fred Phelps is an old family friend. “Maybe we should start the movie.” I smiled a little too widely. “Oh”—he smiled—“okay.” He got up and turned on the TV, and the light from the television outlined the silhouette of his body through the shirt. Damned if Andy didn't look to have a mouthwatering, tight little body hiding under the shirt. He turned sideways and asked, “Sleepless in Seattle or Pretty Woman?” “Sleepless,” I said, afraid there might be a Bible lesson on prostitution later if we were to watch Pretty Woman. Andy put the tape in and came back and sat next to me on the couch. His leg pressed into mine, and the heat from his body was slightly comforting and a little unnerving.

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We finished our dinner, and Andy laid back and pulled me into him, wrapping his arms around me. I turned on my side and absently played with the corner of his couch cushion as we watched the movie. He was running his hand softly along my back, almost putting me to sleep. It was the most relaxed I'd felt in days. He tossed his arm over me, and I rolled onto my back so he didn't have to strain as much to see the TV. As he slowly rubbed my full tummy, I closed my eyes, immensely enjoying the fact that being near Andy didn't bother me the way it did with Danny. Andy was all relaxation and sweet, soft warmth. Danny was all welcome to angsty-town! My eyes popped open as Andy scooted closer, pressing his body into mine. I could feel his erection pressing into my hip. So much for relaxation and warmth. His hand began to move up to my chest, pressing into me with a bit more force that was definitely less romantic and more erotic. His hand felt nice, and I could feel his heart beating faster as he began unbuttoning my shirt. I ran my hand up his shirt, taking notice of the fact his body was, of course, rock-hard. No, I told myself, this is going to be fine. He was a nice, loving man who was simply confused about religion and politics. He just needed someone like me to educate him about gay and lesbian liberation…to make him see that right now, he was playing for the wrong side. After a few weeks, I'd sit down with him and get this all worked out. It would be fine. Hell, better than fine, he could be The One. I took in a sharp breath as he leaned over, his lips connecting with my nipple. He now had my shirt completely unbuttoned and open. I felt my eyes roll back in my head as the tip of his tongue flicked my nipple. His hand slid down over my erection, massaging it through my jeans, and I moaned softly. Weak, weak…why do boys have to be so damn weak? He kissed up my neck and over to my ear, and I entered pant-in-heat mode. Andy rolled me the way I'd been, with my back to him, as he continued to lightly lick and suck my earlobe. He pulled my body back into him, grinding his own hard cock into my ass. I pushed back into him as his hand started to

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fumble with my belt. I groaned as he ground himself into my ass and whispered into my ear how badly he wanted me. I took his hand away from my belt and moved it back over my hard-on. I began to undo my pants as he sucked on my neck and… My eyes came to rest on the Bible and prayer book. I grimaced and shut my eyes as a picture of Danny flashed into my mind. I shrieked out as I flinched, falling off the couch onto the floor. “Jesus!” Andy sat up on the couch, looking down at me sprawled across the wood planks. “Are you okay?” “I think I should probably go.” I began pulling my shirt closed as I sat up, scrambling to my feet. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I don't want to pressure you. The last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable.” “Don't apologize, Andy! I believe that was my hard-on I just shoved your hand onto.” I stopped for a second and took a deep breath. “I just…have a long day planned with Mom tomorrow.” “Okay.” He pulled himself up off the sofa as I finished buttoning my shirt. “Slow down there, cowboy.” Andy swatted my hands away as he unbuttoned the last two and redid them correctly. I hadn't realized I'd missed one in my frenzy. “I'm so sorry.” I placed my hand on my forehead. What the hell is wrong with me? He took my chin and lifted my head so I'd look him in the eyes. “You'd tell me if I did anything wrong?” I smiled at his concern and felt like a complete shit. “You didn't do anything wrong.” I leaned in and kissed him softly on the cheek. “I had a really great time, Julian.” “As did I.” I looked into his sweet, caring eyes and turned to head for the front door.

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He followed me to the door and planted one more devastatingly hot yet disturbingly uncomfortable kiss on my lips. “Sleep well.” I swung open the door. “Yeah, right.” He smiled. “I won't sleep a wink tonight. I'll lie awake all night wishing you were curled up with me.” I reached up and caressed his cheek again with the back of my hand. I began to turn as Andy took me by the arm, stopping me. I turned back to see him smiling as he held out his hand with my car keys. I laughed nervously and felt my entire body flush with guilt. I made it out onto the porch and down the steps to my car. He stayed on the porch until I pulled away. I drove a couple of blocks and pulled over to the side of the road. I rolled down all the windows and pulled out a cigarette. Maybe it was just too soon? Maybe it was too late? Maybe Danny was going to ruin this like he'd ruined everything else. I lit my cigarette and inhaled, then thrust my arm out the window to keep the smoke from getting into my car. My mother was right. I really needed to quit smoking. I was beginning to need them anytime anything went wonky. I pondered whether or not I should stay at Gabby's for the night. I was sure she could use the help for her dinner party tomorrow. I looked at my cell and wondered if Danny and Mom were still out. Was it so wrong that I wished I'd been with them? In the past her visits had made me feel closer to Danny, but now after everything that had happened, I felt further away than ever. I took another quick puff and tossed the cigarette out the window, picturing the dirty look Danny would give me had he seen me littering.

***** I was sitting on my smoker's sill when Danny got back to the loft. I'd been home, simmering, for a few hours. I hadn't realized how early it had been when I ran out of Andy's house as if being chased by Freddy Krueger. One more thing

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that in my opinion was also Danny's fault. I wasn't sure how it was his fault, but given enough time, I knew I could come up with something. I'd been sitting there in the dark, much the way I had been the night before. I heard the door shut, the switch click as the lights flicked on, and Danny's keys clinking as he tossed them onto the island. I was in my undies, as if to make sure he and anyone he came home with knew I wasn't leaving. “Hey,” Danny said somewhat cautiously from behind me. I hadn't turned to look at him, and I still didn't intend to. I seemed to get myself into trouble that way. I listened to him release a long sigh. “Are you just no longer going to speak to me?” I took a puff off my ciggie and exhaled, giving in as I turned around. I exaggeratingly looked around the loft. “What? No sleepover tonight?” I saw the wounded look on his face and marveled at the fact he expected me to just fuck and forget. I shook my head and started to turn around. “I sent him home after you left last night, you know.” I was stunned by his demeanor as he stood there. The tone in his voice was as if he'd cured cancer as opposed to just doing what normal people did, which was control themselves. “What do you want from me, a merit badge or something?” Danny shifted his weight from one foot to another. “No, I didn't… I just wanted you to know nothing happened, that's all.” “Well, that is indeed something.” I snubbed out my cigarette and tossed it into the jar. “The cock of the walk turned away a piece of ass. I'll call Gabby. Alert the media.” His demeanor took on a slightly less subdued manner. “Goddamn, Julian. I said I was sorry. If I could go back…” He stopped himself. “I know, I know.” I got up and headed for my bedroom. “You wouldn't have done it. I get it. You don't need to continue to make me feel even worse by beating the fact that I was a mistake into the ground.”

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Danny crossed the room in what seemed like three steps, and he grabbed my arm. “I never said that.” He most certainly had. “What do you want from me, Danny?” He stood there looking at me blankly. “You're sorry. I get it. Forgiven!” Liar. “You didn't sleep with the guy from last night. Great. I don't feel like a cheap lay anymore.” Liar. “You wanna go back to the way things were before Sunday night. Consider it done!” Liar! “Whatever it is you want, you can have. So tell me, Danny. What is it you want?” He was breathing heavily and looking at me exactly the same way he had two nights ago right before shoving his tongue down my throat. Hell to the no! As much as my body wanted the pleasure, the rest of whomever and whatever I was couldn't handle the truckload of pain that would surely soon follow. I jerked my arm free. “You can't have that.” I stormed into my bedroom and slammed the door, looking down at the bed. I flung my fists into the air and expelled a frustrated, melodramatic breath of air. If the rat bastard really cared, he'd bust the damn door down and force himself on me so I could maintain my dignity and still get to have the molten-hot, mind-altering sex! Fucker!

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Chapter Seventeen My eyes opened as the annoying beeping of the alarm went off. I reached over, shut it off, and stretched, then indulged in a big yawn. I began to settle back into the bed, when my cell went off. I growled a grumpy groan and leaned over to pick up the little phone. I blinked a few times until my eyes focused on the number. It was my mother. I swear it was like she could sense the instant my eyes had opened. I considered hitting the Ignore button. It was dangerous to speak with her before I'd had an infusion of caffeine. I'd only done it once before, during that whole gang-violence crime spree we'd had last year. Delilah had called all in a panic to ask me about self-defense classes. I made the mistake of opining that kickboxing wasn't going to save me from a bullet. That's me minus caffeine—not a good situation at all. She, of course, went into a frenzy, and I wound up agreeing to the selfdefense classes to keep her from buying me a sidearm. My mother was originally from Texas; enough said. With a gun, I knew full well I'd wind up being one of the idiots killed by his own weapon. Especially considering that the only thing I got out of those self-defense classes was a bad case of blue balls. The instructor looked like Brandon Lee from that creepy Crow movie, and he was hot, hot, slap-your-momma hot. “Morning, Mother.” I hugged my body pillow and smiled, thinking about the instructor. “What time are you picking me up?” “About eleven. Why?”

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“Well, I've already had breakfast with Danny.” My eyes popped wide open. “We sure had a nice long chat.” I sat straight up in the bed. “Really?” I closed my eyes, too paranoid to press for more details. “Plus, I was hoping you could come by sooner since I didn't get to see you last night.” I knew she'd waste no time throwing that back at me. “Mother…” “Don't use that tone with me, Julian.” “I'm sorry, Mother.” I could practically see her smiling. “This is why I wish you'd just stay here instead of a hotel. Your way is so inconvenient.” “Well all right, sweetie. You just stay in bed a little longer.” I was immediately suspicious of her generosity. “I can have the hotel call me a taxi and be over there in a jiffy.” I shook my head. Checkmate. “I'm getting into the shower now.” I smiled a little, hearing her laugh quietly on the other end. “You are an evil, devious woman.” I was actually a lot like my mother in some ways, and she knew it. She had her buttons and I mine. I'd seen this stupid Dateline/60 Minutes-type investigative news segment on the types of germs and things they found in cabs. I made the mistake of going on and on about how disgusting they were and that I'd never get into one again. “Taxis don't bother me, dear. I don't mind.” “Well I do!” I flung the blankets off and rolled out of bed. “Might as well go roll around in a giant petri dish.” She let loose her singsong laugh that always lightened my mood and then asked about my date. “It was fine,” I said, reminding myself to walk cautiously.

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“Really?” “Um, yeah…like, better than fine.” I felt a pause and began to wish I could see her. I began to fidget, so I sat back down onto the bed to settle myself. I really hated not being able to get a sense of what she was thinking at the moment. “I could have sworn that Danny mentioned you beat him home last night.” I rolled my eyes and tossed the phone into the air, furious Danny had dared say one fucking word. That he felt it was okay to meddle into my affairs. I hopped off the bed and punched the air several times, imagining it was Danny's face. “Hello…Julian?” My attention was yanked back into the moment, and I whipped around and fumbled for the phone. My mother's tiny voice taunted me as I searched through layers of blankets. I sighed a little relief as the handset slipped out onto the mattress and I snatched it up. “Well, yeah.” My mind went blank. “But well…Andy had to be…had to show some houses this morning, that's 'cause…why.” I mentally cursed and reached up to whack myself in the head. “Look, Mom, I need to get in the shower if you expect me to actually make it over there anytime soon.” “All right, dear. Whatever you say.” I wondered what that last comment was actually referring to as we said our good-byes.

I set my phone back down on the nightstand. The loft felt very quiet beyond my bedroom door. I gathered my thoughts and my bath gear, then flung open my bedroom door. I let out a disgusted groan. Every time I looked at the sofa, I'd get a flash in my head of Danny kissing me. It was the gift from hell that kept on giving. Between that and the way Danny had looked at me when he got home last night—like he was ready for dessert—I was seriously

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beginning to doubt I could continue to live here and still maintain any semblance of sanity. I was going to kill his ass for opening his fat mouth to my mother. I wondered briefly what it would be like to live with Andy, then smacked myself in the head again. Conscious of the fact that on some level I was trying to force something that probably wasn't there, I still simply refused to give it up. As long as I didn't admit defeat on the Andy front, everything was still a possibility. I needed possibilities at the moment. I wasn't sure I'd be able to pull myself out of bed in the morning without them.

***** I collected my very fetching mother from her hotel. She looked flawless in a form fitting navy dress cut just above the knees. Her blonde hair was loose and wavy, cascading softly just above her shoulders, and her black-framed sunglasses looked very retro. Altogether she looked as though she could have walked right out of the sixties. I wore the camel-colored suit with the embroidered flowers on the jacket. Figured I'd at least show her some of what her money had purchased. It was the first moment that we'd been alone together, and we started gabbing about news from the home front. Apparently everyone was fine, but the top story required that Delilah rip off her sunglasses, eyes wide and in shock, with a bulletin that Jennie had left her husband. Apparently someone had anonymously mailed her pictures of her husband cheating on her, along with a typed note, though Jennie hadn't divulged any further details. Okay, so fine. It was me. I felt she had the right to know. Danny and I sent them to a friend who lived out of state, who in turn mailed them from a street corner with no return address. At least this way Jennie could know the truth without losing the face that was so important to her. The note that we sent with the pictures assured Jennie that the digital copies had been destroyed. It killed me to do it, but I did delete them. I left everything in her hands. She

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could keep up appearances and stay with the guy, and no one else would know. I had the tiniest bit more respect for her, knowing she'd actually left his ass. Mom and I didn't wind up having a ton of extra time before lunch, but it was enough to lift me out of the foggy man-haze of a mess I was in. For me, being in the same room with my mother, whether or not she was annoying the hell out of me, was like being charged by an invisible power source. Like Superman to the yellow sun, I always felt invigorated by her presence. When we got to the restaurant, she and Gabby gave each other a good hug, and we all sat down at a table in the dining room. The only time we sat in the actual dining room was when our mothers joined us for lunch. We placed our orders, and the waitress brought my mother and me a glass of wine. “So what's going on with the two of you?” Mom looked back and forth between us. Gabby looked at me, as if afraid to speak. I laughed a little remembering I threatened to bring physical harm to her should she spill anything to my mom about Danny-gate, accidentally or otherwise. “Well,” Gabby said. “Julian usually picks a topic of the day.” Mom's face took on a confused look, and I mustered a chilly glare at Gabby like she was insane. Gabby shrugged as if to say deal with it. “I do no such thing. How ridiculous.” I knew this was Gabby's way of trying to punish me for muzzling her. She was beyond pissed at Danny and had wanted to disinvite him to her dinner party. I pleaded with her to just let it go, at least until after Mom left. Besides, if anyone deserved to get food poisoning from Gabby's cooking, it was Danny. I realized suddenly they were both looking at me, waiting. “I do not decide topics to discuss.” I shook my head and shot Gabby the evil eye.

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“You do too.” Gabby gave me a huge toothy grin as she leaned back into her seat, martini in hand. “Friday it was true love, yesterday it was gay marriage.” She looked at Mom and added, “Although they aren't always that deep. One day it was whether or not bread should be toasted if it was for a sandwich, because Julian always thinks of toast as being something for breakfast. Another time it was thong underwear. What was it you called them?” “Cheek floss,” I said indignantly, picking up my wineglass. “I still say they're disgusting. I could never wear a pair twice. Every time I'd go to put them on again, I just know I'd look at that string and think I know where you've been.” Gabby and Mom started laughing, and I took a sip of wine. “I'm sorry, but wouldn't you rather just have panty lines?” “I've gotten more than a few ideas for my articles from our lunches.” Gabby was flicking the rim of her empty martini glass with her fingernail. “I actually have the local paper here delivered to me back home just for your articles.” Mom looked at Gabby and draped her napkin in her lap as the waitress placed our salads in front of each of us. “Well, thank you.” Gabby lifted her glass, signaling the time had come for another martini. “I'm very flattered, but it's mostly mindless drivel, of which Julian is a bottomless well.” “Shouldn't I get a finder's fee or something?” I asked, cutting the lettuce with my knife and fork. “I usually buy lunch.” Out of the blue, a penny dropped. “That's how you always know what the hell's going on here.” I startled both Gabby and Mom with the loud declaration of my sudden insight. I looked at Gabby. “She was in a near panic last year when that gang was targeting college students.” “A mother has an obligation to keep a close eye on her children.” “You nearly drove me batty.” I pointed my fork at Gabby. “Three or four times a day she'd call just to make sure I'd answer.”

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Gabby laughed. “I remember that. You had a hissy every time the phone rang.” “I couldn't help it. I think it gave me a nervous tic!” Mom rolled her eyes as Gabby held her hand over her mouth to keep from spewing lettuce out while laughing. “I'm serious!” I started tapping my finger over my left temple. “I have a vein that starts going wonky anytime my phone rings three or four times in a row.” “You are so over-the-top in your exaggerations.” Mom dabbed her lips with her napkin. “Honestly I think you should be a writer, all the tall tales that imagination of yours comes up with.” “Your first book could be called The Cheek Floss Diaries,” Gabby blurted out. I scowled at her. “Damn, Gabby. I'm eating.” “So what's the topic going to be today?” Mom asked with a greedy expression, taking a bite of her salad. I tried to talk with my mouth full. “How about rotten friends and meddling mothers?” “I've already covered those.” Gabby looked at Mom. “And no, Delilah, it wasn't about you. My mom is the queen of meddling.” “You wait, dear.” Mom reached over to pat Gabby's hand. “After you go through hours and hours of labor, you'll want to make sure your children never have a moment's peace either.” It was my turn to enjoy Gabby's discomfort. Her face turned slightly green at the prospect of birthing. Every time the topic of children came up, she'd get very nervous. I was suddenly extremely happy my mother had come to visit after all. We spent the rest of the lunch talking about nothing in particular, and I wound up being thankful to Gabby for keeping the conversation light and fun. Even I was in a decent mood by the time it was over. I guess in the end Gabby

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figured that if she blew the whistle on me with my mom, I'd get her back the next time her mother came to town. There's nothing like mutually assured destruction to keep a friendship ticking along.

***** After lunch, Mom decided she needed to stock Danny and me up on groceries. She chattered on as I followed her down the cereal aisle, but I wasn't paying the least bit of attention to the words that were coming out of her mouth. I'm sure that I grinned like a seven-year-old when she tossed a box of Froot Loops into the cart. I was really glad she was here, even though I couldn't tell her what was going on with Danny, her other son. She turned to look at me, holding up boxes of Honeycombs and Cap'n Crunch. “Sure, Mom.” She shrugged and tossed both boxes into the cart. I grinned, realizing she'd asked Which one? not Do you want them both? She pushed the cart, and I listened, following the clicking of her heels as she walked along the tiled floor. It stung a little that I couldn't let her in on this particular pain. She'd have been able to offer the best kind of comfort: mom comfort. She was one in a million. Even my dad admitted that much. I'd not heard a peep from either of them as to what happened after the funeral, but it did seem that although Mom was dating some new man, there had been no Dadbashing since she'd been here. I was certainly not going to ask. As long as I didn't know, I could pretend all was good. “Julian, grab up some of those cartons of Diet Coke, sweetie. I always break my nails on those darn things.” I complied with her orders. A few years back when I'd been visiting Dad, he'd had a few too many bourbons, and he let it slip that it had been Mom's spirit, her fire and passion, that he'd fallen in love with. It made me sad at the time, because I could tell there was still love there, even all those years later and after all those years

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apart. Perhaps that explained a bit why the hate between them was so strong as well. Neither one had ever remarried; I'd assumed because their divorce had been so painful. Once bitten and all. Dad called her a real firecracker and then admitted it was those same qualities that had also driven them apart. I set the cartons in the cart. “Julian Hallowell.” Mom was nudging my arm. “You're putting them right on top of the bread.” I looked down and pulled out the twelve-packs. I bent and slipped them onto the rack under the cart. “Sorry, Mom.” Her hand went right to my cheek when I stood back up. “Are you feeling okay?” “I'm fine, Mom.” I nodded at her. She took a short breath. “What's wrong with you? Are you sure your date went okay last night?” “It was fine.” It struck me how lucky I was that this was the mom I got. “How is it that a girl from small-town Texas is so cool with her gay son?” She suddenly stopped perusing the Pop-Tarts and looked up at me, a little surprised. “You're my baby.” She said it as fact, with a strength behind it, despite the singsong tone of her voice. “You could've come out with three legs and a tail, and I would've loved you every bit as much as I do now. Every day I've had with you in the past and will have with you in the future is a blessing.” “I guess that must make me the luckiest little boy in the world.” I smiled at her as I pointed to the shelf. “How about the iced blueberry ones?” She took a deep breath and snagged two boxes off the shelf. I looked into the cart and started laughing. It was full of nothing but sugar-infused junk food. It suddenly took everything I had to not burst into tears; Danny would have a cow at the sight of it all. “You're right, sweetie.” Mom was staring into the cart, shaking her head. “That other boy of ours will give us so much crap over all the crap. We'll be

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sure to stop at that farmers' market out in the lot and get some fresh veggies. I can't believe you twisted my arm into all this junk food.” I gasped, totally in shock as she smiled up at me sweetly. She pushed the cart off and left me standing there in the aisle. I heaved a sigh and took off to catch up with her. It was bad enough she knew exactly what I'd been thinking, but the fact she was willing to sell me down the river as if she hadn't been enabling me? That shit was shady!

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Chapter Eighteen As he and I walked up the steps, closing in on Gabby's front door, Andy— a real estate agent through and through—commented on how well-taken-careof the Victorian house was. I rang the bell, and Bran opened the door and smiled. While he wasn't my favorite person in the world, I had to give him snaps in the looks department. He was an extremely handsome man, very blond and very masculine. He was always immaculately dressed; I don't think I'd ever seen him looking slummy, although I couldn't imagine he lay around the house in khakis and starched shirts. “Hello, Julian,” Brad said in his dignified Southern accent, giving the impression that he came from old Southern money. “This must be Andy!” He smiled, sticking out a hand as we passed through the doorway. As Brad and Andy exchange pleasantries, I noticed that Mom and Danny were already reclining with cocktails in hand in two wingback chairs. I looked at the stairs rising just before me and smiled. The stairs to nowhere. They'd been blocked off when the house was turned into apartments. It always made me a little sad to look at them. I was impressed, though, because other than that, whoever owned the place hadn't otherwise disrupted the architecture, at least not on the first floor. The entryway was open to the living area on the left, which was framed by the round wall of windows from one of the towers and had a beautiful green marble fireplace. There was a set of pocket doors on the opposite side of the entry, which opened into the other tower that they used as an office. A hall led back into a family room, bedroom, bath, and kitchen, and a second set of pocket doors off the living room opened into the huge dining room.

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The dining room was Gabby's pride and joy, filled with an antique Victorian dining room table, hutch, and buffet that Gabby had inherited from her grandmother. Her mother had stored it for her while she was in college, and when she moved in with Brad, her sole mission had been to find an apartment that had a dining room large enough to fit this furniture. Hearing a loud bang from somewhere in the back of the house, I craned my neck a bit to peer around Brad. I looked at Brad, who smiled weakly. I turned, feeling Andy's hand on my lower back. “Julian,” Mom called out from her chair. “Stop gawking and introduce us.” I introduced Andy to Mom and Danny, and Mother immediately beckoned for Andy to sit down next to her. “I think I'm being summoned,” Andy commented. I smiled at his nervousness and asked, “Would you like me to bring you a drink?” “Would you mind?” Andy smiled. “Maybe a glass of wine?” “Consider it done.” I gave him a peck on the cheek. I had to admit that my mother probably did appear slightly intimidating dressed to the nines in a black cocktail dress with a matching beaded bolero jacket. I knew she'd put Andy at instant ease, though. “May I get either of you anything to drink?” Brad asked. “Sure. I'll come with.” I was following Brad into the dining room and looking back as Mom began delicately grilling Andy. I noticed Danny glaring at me, and it was a bit unsettling. We stopped in front of the buffet, and I mulled over my liquid options as I wondered what the fuck Danny had to be pissy about. “What's your poison?” Brad asked, smiling. “I guess two glasses of that merlot should do the trick.” Brad poured the wine, and I looked back into the living room. Late-afternoon sun poured

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through the oversize windows, and a soft breeze lightly rippled the sheers that diffused the sunlight into a soft, warm haze. “Shit!” The expletive came from the kitchen, closely followed by the loud crash of a pan. I cringed a bit, looking at the closed door to the kitchen. “Maybe I should go in and see if she needs any help?” I took the two glasses of wine Brad handed me. “No, please!” Brad shot me a deadly serious expression. “She said she would severely maim me if I allowed anyone to set foot in there.” We both jumped when another pan crashed, and Brad forced another smile as he turned me around, delicately pushing me back into the living room. I handed Andy the glass of wine, and the three of them burst into laughter. Brad and I took a seat next to each other on the sofa as my mother continued her story. “Well, Julian and this boy nearly fell off the bed, and I practically threw the tray of sodas and popcorn across the room. He'd said they were going to study, but my Lord, it never entered my mind they'd be studying each other.” My face burned bright red when I realized she'd decided to tell everyone about the time she walked in on me and another boy making out on my bed. “Mother, honestly.” I took a large gulp of wine. “What was that boy's name, Julian? I forgot.” she asked, straining to remember. “James,” I said. “I don't think—” “I knew a James once.” Brad looked around the room with a goofy smile. Mom looked at Brad, then at me. I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “Really?” Mom asked with a sweet smile. “He was gay too.” Brad took a sip of bourbon. “How…nice,” she added with a slightly confused expression. “I'm sure it's not the same person, though,” Brad finished.

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“Probably not.” I smiled and took yet another large gulp of wine. Here we go. Bran seemed normal, hell, even charming. Then he had to go and ruin it by attempting actual conversation. Everyone was startled a bit when Gabby appeared from the dining room wearing an apron that looked as if it had been worn during an exorcism. She still had on these enormous oven mitts, one of which was obviously scorched and appeared to still be smoldering, as I could have sworn I saw a tiny stream of smoke curling up into the air from it. Tears rolled down her face, and she burst out sobbing—silent, racking sobs that had her shoulders shuddering up and down, even though she made no actual sound. Her hair was half-up and half-dangling down to her shoulders as her curls seemed to jerk with every spasm. Gabby took a deep breath, forcing the tears to stop. “I…b-burned the chicken…c-c-c-cordon bleu.” She took another deep breath; then her voice turned into this sort of high-pitched, mousy squeak I'd never heard come from her before. “The asparagus…is s-s-s-stuck…to the bottom…and…and…the hh-h-hollandaise…l-looks”—she glanced down at her apron—“like c-c-c-cottage cheese.” Brad and I got up off the sofa, and he walked over to her. As I started to do the same, she burst out sobbing again. Brad put his arms out, and she fell face-first into his chest. “We'll be right back,” Brad called back, leading her down the hallway into the back of the house. “Julian,” Mom said, getting out of her chair, “are there any decent restaurants that deliver?” “I could call Flappers,” Andy said. “I eat there several nights a week. They know me. I'm sure I could convince them to work something out for us.” “Good man. Why don't you give them a call?” Mom had slipped naturally into her role as hostess of the year. There was no stopping this train now. “Danny, you and Julian head to the kitchen and remove every trace of…well,

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whatever happened in there. The last thing she needs is to have to go back in there later and resuffer the humiliation. I'll go back and have a little woman-towoman with her.” The four of us scattered like a pack of spooked cats as we headed off to complete our assignments. When Danny and I walked into the kitchen, we each seemed stunned into complete silence. The rolled-up breasts of chicken were scattered about as if they'd come back to life and tried to attack Gabby. One was lying on the stove, two were on the floor, and two others were on the counter. One on the counter had a steak knife sticking out of it, giving a little credence to my paranormal chicken theory. Danny and I were counting, and we both felt a bit confused until we finally found the last one on top of the refrigerator. Burned was an…understatement. One side was so hard, it could have been used as a weapon, while the other side seemed a little raw. Pans were scattered about, and we even found a piece of asparagus dangling from the light fixture. Danny finally broke the silence. “She must have completely lost it.” “I shouldn't have teased her about this at lunch on Monday.” I couldn't believe the carnage. There was, literally, sauce everywhere. “You want to take the stove, and I'll start on the dishes?” He nodded, grabbed the trash can, and began collecting the chicken as I ran water and scrubbed the sink. Brad came into the kitchen, buttoning up a fresh shirt, and informed us that he and Andy were going to go pick up the food. As Brad disappeared whence he'd come, Danny came up behind me and bent down. He reached between my legs, opening the cabinet under the sink, and retrieved several bottles of cleaner. I was scrubbing away at a pan. “I would've moved out of the way, had you asked.”

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“My way was much more fun.” He smiled, and part of me—the part I was ready to flog for thinking such hideous things—wanted to drop the pan and jump him. I shook those thoughts out and took a different tack. “So what do you think of Andy?” “Um, I don't know.” He pointed out a spot I'd missed on the broiling pan. “I'm scrubbing as hard as I can—and what do you mean you don't know? You have no first impressions whatsoever?” Danny was squirting 409 all over the top of the stove. “Well, fine. If you must know, he gives me kind of an uneasy feeling.” “What do you mean?” I put a halt to my scrubbing. “What kind of an uneasy feeling?” “Julie, I don't have different categories for uneasy feelings,” Danny snapped. “Well, is it like a he's-a-stalker-freak kind of uneasy feeling, or just a he'sa-stranger-and-I-feel-uncomfortable-about-him feeling?” Danny looked away and began to wipe down the stovetop. “He just gives me a knot in my stomach.” “So what you're saying is that it could be irritable bowel syndrome?” “I don't want to talk about this,” Danny snapped, scrubbing at one spot of crusted hollandaise sauce. “How about we just be quiet and clean.” “Fine…jeez, what crawled up your butt and died?” “You asked me a question, and I answered it! I don't think he's right for you. Can we just leave it at that?” “Okay! I'm sorry already.” That's awfully presumptuous of him. He doesn't even know Andy. Judgie little fucker.

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As I dried the last of the dishes, Andy and Brad came in with the food, and the four of us start plating it all up. “I'll go back and get the girls,” I said. I took the shortcut through the family room and stopped in front of the bathroom door. I lifted my hand to knock and overheard my mom. I waited as I listened outside the door. “Gabby, you are a fabulous, intelligent woman. So what if you can't cook? I did it for years; it's not that great. Women fought like hell to get out of the kitchen, so that you could go out and do anything and be anyone you want to be. When I was a little girl, my mother made me feel like my only option was to meet a nice man, get married, and have a family of my own. It took me several years of being someone's wife before I realized that there was more to being a woman than being a servant in my own home. It was a little thing called feminism, and I brought it home and smacked my husband right square in the face with it.” I heard Gabby laughing, and I smiled. Knocking on the door, I said, “Ladies, your presence is requested out here. This party desperately needs a large estrogen injection.” I listened to a little rummaging around before Mom opened the bathroom door and smiled. “Then you have come to the right place.” She turned to Gabby, who was all cleaned up and repainted for battle. Mom held out a hand and asked, “Shall we?” Gabby walked out of the bathroom and grabbed me by the arms. “I love that woman.” “Are you okay?” I asked. “Of course,” she said, as if I were an idiot for asking. “I've had my Lifetime television moment for the year. It's all over; nothing else to see here.” She locked arms with me, and we followed Mom down the hall and made our way into the dining room. The boys were already sitting around the table

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waiting. Brad got out of his seat, walked over, and gave Gabby a soft kiss on the lips. He accompanied her to her seat at the opposite end of the table and pulled her chair out for her. I did the same for Mother, who was sitting next to Danny, and then walked around the table and sat down between Andy and Gabby. “Just so you know.” Gabby smiled sweetly. “If what happened here this evening leaves this room, I will kill you all.” We all laughed, and everyone cut into their food. “So, Andy.” Danny picked up a slice of his steak. “Julian tells us you're a real estate agent.” “Guilty.” He smiled and took a bite of his potatoes. “Why do you ask? Know someone who's looking for a house?” “No,” Danny said, stabbing another piece of meat with his fork. “I was just wondering if, well, let's say you had a house you're trying to sell, and you know it has a leaky basement. Do you tell the people who are looking at it about the leak?” I looked at Danny, who either refused to look at me or couldn't feel my direct gaze piercing his skull. I turned to Gabby. She looked like a shark smelling blood in the water. Even my own mother seemed very intrigued by this line of questioning. “Well”—Andy showed no signs of discomfort as he smiled—“I'm legally obligated to disclose any known defects with the home, but if the sellers don't disclose it, I may not know about it either.” “My grandmother's house had a leaky basement.” Brad smiled and set down his glass of bourbon. “So it's not really lying, I suppose, as long as you don't know about it, huh?” Danny asked.

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“This wine is absolutely divine,” Mom said, obviously also hearing the unsubtly rude tone in Danny's voice as she set her glass back down on the table. Andy rested his arms on the table and looked directly into Danny's eyes. “I'm neither a contractor nor a home inspector, and I unfortunately don't have x-ray vision.” “Thank you, Delilah,” Brad offered to my mother as thanks for the compliment. “Julian, I certainly see to whom we can attribute your gracious amenities.” “What a lovely compliment.” Mom smiled at Brad. “You real estate people always have a sly little underhanded out, doncha?” Danny asked, refusing to allow the subject to die. It was ridiculous. What in the name of holy gay hell did he think he was doing? “You know what I hate?” I asked, looking around the table smiling. “How it seems like all it takes to be gay these days is the undeniable need to suck dick.” Gabby brayed out a laugh, and the fork that Mom dropped clattered loudly to her plate. “Julian!” Mom said. “Sorry, Mom.” I took a large gulp of wine. “The undeniable need for oral sex.” Mom picked up her fork and shook her head with a disgusted sigh. “What the hell are you talking about?” Danny turned his aggression toward me as he cut off another piece of his steak. “I understand what you're saying.” Andy picked up the saltshaker and doused his new potatoes. “It's like the kids coming out of the closet these days don't take time to learn the basics.”

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“Exactly!” I gave Andy a sweet smile and patted his hand. “I mean, I was talking to this twenty-one-year-old at the bar last week who'd never seen The Wizard of Oz and had no idea who Judy Garland was. Sacrilege!” “I'm sure he regretted telling you that.” Danny took a drink. “What did you do? Have him barred?” I was trying to will Danny dead with my eyes. Much to my dismay, I failed. “No, I wrote down a list of movies for him and told him he shouldn't be seen in public until he'd watched them all.” “I got thrown out of a bar once.” Brad nodded his head. “I'm sure it was most unsettling.” Mom reached over and patted Brad's hand. “So what you are saying,” Gabby piped in, “is that there should be some type of gay boot camp where young homos are sent for a couple of months to listen to lectures like: Bette Davis: The Bitch, the Diva, and All About Eve, and Sideburns: To have or have not?” “That's not a bad idea,” I said. “Ridiculous.” Danny shook his head. “Maybe some people just don't like old movies.” “Please,” I said, as if his last statement were completely outside the realm of possibility. “I'm talking seriously.” I set down my fork and leered at Danny from across the table. “I would think you'd like this idea. Lord knows you'd be down there applying for a job as an instructor.” “And be away from you for two months at a time?” Danny smiled bitchily. “Never!” “I know I couldn't stand to be away from Gabby that long.” Brad smiled at her from across the table and gave Gabby a wink. “Thank you, sweetie.” Gabby grinned back.

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“Brad, you're not gay,” I snapped as I rolled my eyes, now beyond irritated with his constant outbursts. “I don't think they'd send a straight man to lecture to gay men about our culture.” “Julie,” Danny said in that pedantic tone that annoyed me to no end, “some people have better things to do than sit around learning about dead movie stars.” “You're a bad gay!” I pointed accusingly as I screamed at him across the table, nearly hopping out of my seat. “Why, because I'm not a Brie-eating, Andrew Lloyd Webber-listening, Judy-Liza-Sound of Music-loving Funny Girl?” Danny spewed back at me. “What do you want from me? I told you I like Bette Midler!” “And that's the only reason your queer card hasn't been revoked, Mister!” I settled back down a bit, but I still wanted to slap the shit out of him before ripping off all his clothes. “There are standards to be met, and you're hanging on by a thread!” “The fur sure is flying tonight.” Gabby grinned devilishly, taking a large sip of wine. “This is better than a Hepburn and Tracy movie marathon.” “The two of you are acting like two-year-olds trying to see which one can pee the farthest,” Mom scolded. “Andy, I hope you can forgive them for behaving so poorly.” “I grew up in a large family.” Andy wiped his mouth with his napkin. “This is nothing.” “I agree, Delilah.” Gabby shook her head disapprovingly. “Come on now, you two. Kiss and make up.” “Sorry, Delilah.” Danny looked down at his plate abjectly, adorably ashamed. “Yeah. Me too.” I knew it hadn't sounded very convincing, and I didn't really care. I gave Gabby the stink eye. She shot an innocent smile back at me. Then I caught Danny giving Andy a nasty look.

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Mom and Brad began a very polite conversation about wine, and I was surprised to see that Brad could actually speak without sounding like a oneliner loser. We finished our meal and all retired to the living room, where Mom ruled the conversation. Gabby and I eventually excused ourselves and escaped to the front porch to smoke up a storm and gossip. It had been about an hour since our little table tension, but I was still fuming. I inhaled and blew out the smoke in quick, terse movements. I glanced over to see Gabby staring holes through me from the porch swing. She was smiling like she had a secret. “Stop looking at me like that. It's creepy.” Gabby took a puff of her ciggie. “You can't tell me you don't see it.” “See what?” “You really don't think he might be jealous?” “Danny?” I slowly sat back in the swing. “Have you been smoking wacky weed? Within twenty-four hours of us…well, fucking, I guess was all it was.” I stopped, feeling the now-familiar sharp pain in my chest. “He'd dragged another man up to flaunt in my face and then had the audacity to not have sex with him. It was like he was intentionally trying to hurt me. Those aren't the actions of a man who cares for another.” “That was an asshole move, but—” “No buts!” I cut her off. “You were right before. He knows me well enough to know what that would do to me. It wasn't an accident. I didn't stumble onto him fucking some guy in the storeroom at the bookstore. He wasn't even making an attempt to hide it.” “Well, one thing is for certain.” Gabby gave me her no-more-BS look. “You have no feelings about Andy, aside from perhaps friendship.” I leaned forward, placing my elbows on my knees. I felt the sting from the disapproval in her voice. She didn't even need to say it. She was very disappointed in me for continuing to drag the poor boy into my mess of a life

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knowing full well it wasn't going to go anywhere. I opened my mouth to defend myself. Gabby held up a hand. “I know exactly why you did it, but you need to stop it. You wouldn't want someone to do it to you.” I sighed, knowing there was no defense left that could overcome that objection. I knew I was a heel, but I hadn't meant to be, not really. “I had hoped a spark would…” “I know.” Gabby reached over and gave my leg a squeeze. “But it hasn't, and I think you now know it's not going to. Cut the poor boy loose.” I nodded. “I'll do it after we leave. I just needed there to be something.” I sat up in the swing and snubbed out my butt. “He's a Southern Baptist.” Gabby's eyes got wide, and she was literally biting her lips together to keep from laughing. “He has a prayer book and everything.” The corners of her mouth were turning up as she put out her ciggie. “He wanted me to go to church with him.” Gabby let loose with a garish laugh; I started laughing along with her. “How can anyone be gay and still want to be a Baptist?” I shook my head in complete astonishment. While I thought God was all about loving thy neighbor, and I knew the baby Jesus loved me for exactly who I was, I strongly suspected the people running the organized religious institutions were a big pack of gay-hating, evil hell-minions. I just couldn't seem to wrap my brain around it.

***** I kissed Gabby good night. She thanked all of us for saving dinner and apologized for pulling a Sybil on us. She gave Mom a big hug, and they looked at each other and smiled as if they had a secret. A twinge of jealousy pinched at me sharply. I felt left out. I wasn't used to the women in my life bypassing me and talking on their own. Danny said he'd see me at home after he dropped

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Mom off at the hotel, and nodded brusquely at Andy, which I thought was pretty rude. Mother quite graciously gave Andy a peck on the cheek and simply said that it had been “lovely” to meet him. I could read her face. She knew she'd never see Andy again. As I drove Andy home, we talked about the dinner party and laughed again at the sight of Gabby wearing an apron and smoking oven mitts. When I pulled up in front of his house, he turned to look at me and asked, “So what are you doing this weekend, 'cause I was thinking maybe you could come to church with me Sunday morning, and then we could drive to St. Louis for the day, have lunch, do a little shopping?” I shuddered at the thought of dragging my tired, lazy ass out of bed to be yelled at about sin by one guy after having been screamed at by a bar full of boys wanting cock and tails the previous night. I looked into his eyes, hoping for some sign that would tell me it was going to work. All I could see when I looked at him was George W. Bush. “Andy, I don't think this is going to work out between us.” He looked at me with a disappointed expression, but not a very surprised one. I could sense he was trying to figure out what he might say to get me to give it more time. “It's not you, it's me. I guess in a way I've been kind of leading you on. You're a really sweet man, and I desperately wanted you to be the one.” I debated getting into the whole business about being in love with someone else. “We have a few major differences that I don't think I'm going to able to deal with.” “Like what?” “It's a little beside the point, but your political and religious beliefs. When it comes to that, we are so polar opposites. I don't think I can be with someone…”

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“I don't think anyone's ever broken up with me because I'm Baptist,” he said. “And a Republican,” I offered, intending it to sound like a positive. It didn't come out that way. “I know you probably think I'm a horrible person.” I refused to feel bad about not liking the fact that his religion—the one he missed and wished he could go back to—tried to make gay people believe they were evil for who they loved. “Honestly, Andy…it's not even that so much as—” “Danny,” Andy interrupted while staring down at the floor. “I swear to you this whole mess all just came up over the weekend. I—” Andy placed his hand over my knee, as if to say he didn't really want to hear any more. I felt like a complete prick, despite the knowledge I hadn't intentionally tried to hurt the guy. “It's okay. I can't say I'm not disappointed, but…” He looked a little down opening the car door while pulling himself out of the seat. “Good-bye, Julian.” “Sorry,” I tried to get out before I heard the car door shut. Well done, Julian. “You're sweet, but I can't deal with your politics. Oh, and your religion sucks too.” I leaned forward, placing my forehead onto the steering wheel, and sighed. I should have just told him I didn't like him. I sat back up and pulled away from the curb, realizing it didn't actually sound much better that way. I had yet to hear a blow-off line I'd liked. As I drove home, I wondered about what some people called a balance in life between the good and the bad we were each dealt, and I worried. So many things had always come so easily to me, like friends. And real friends, not just acquaintances. The give-you-a-kidney kind of friends. I had the two greatest, most supportive parents in the world. I'd always done really well in school, without having to put any effort into it. That's probably why I went through so many majors. I'd never felt challenged by anything. I'd never had trouble with jobs. I was always the favorite, the star employee. I'd always been able to pick things up quickly and do them really well. It now frightened me. What if, in balancing out my life, I'd already used up all my good things, and now when it

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came to love, which was more important to me than all the rest combined, there was nothing left?

***** I walked into the loft from the stairwell. I could hear Danny slamming stuff around from inside his bedroom. The guilt I felt over Andy quickly shifted to the rage I felt toward Danny. I marched over to the island and tossed down my keys and cell. What in the name of Sam Hill did he have to be pissed about? I marched over to the fridge and snagged a bottle of water. Danny should be out here groveling an apology at my feet for being mean to the man I didn't love! I flung my arms out into the air, shaking them in disgust. Danny came around the corner, and I froze for a second before dropping my arms. I could tell he was irritated as he looked me over suspiciously. I made sure, with the look I gave him, that he knew I felt the same way about him. We stood there for what began to feel like a very long and uncomfortable moment. I finally opened my mouth to speak, only to be cut off. “I'm not sorry!” Danny blurted out. “That dude isn't for you!” That sent me over the edge. “I sure would love to know how everyone but me seems to know what is and isn't right for me.” I harrumphed out a frustrated sigh as I twisted off the lid to the water bottle. I suddenly had the urge to get back into my car, drive across town to Andy's, and ride his cock all night until I passed out from exhaustion. “He's bad. He's a bad, bad man!” Danny yelled, looking seriously pissed. He quickly backed down a little when he saw what must have been a shocked look on my face. “No, you're right; I don't know that, but—” “Shut up!” I snatched up my phone and rounded the island to head for my room as Danny watched me, mouth slightly agape. I was so angry and yet strangely turned on at the same time—and that made me angrier. “Get a tissue for your issue, dude!”

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Danny's head cocked to one side, and he seemed genuinely curious as to my dismissal of his feelings. I charged past him to my bedroom and slammed the door. I sat my phone on the bedside table and took a swig from the bottle. I kinda needed to pee but didn't particularly want to get into it with him any further. I placed the water bottle next to my phone and jumped as I heard his bedroom door slam. I was breathing heavier than normal, and my skin felt like it was on fire. My eyebrows rose at the sound of another loud bang from inside his bedroom. I craned my head and strained as I tried to suss out Danny's undecipherable muttering through the wall. I hate mutterers. “Say it or don't,” I muttered and then rolled my eyes and fell face-first onto the bed, irritated by my own hypocrisy.

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Chapter Nineteen Walking along the bar at Paoli's, I said hi to Joe and picked up my glass of wine, which he'd already poured and had sitting on the bar waiting for me. I passed through the archways onto the patio and spotted Gabby already seated and smoking a cigarette. “Well, I broke it off with Andy last night,” I said with a sigh of resignation, flopping down in the chair across from her. “Wow!” Her shock was apparent. “You told me I needed to do it.” I snatched away her smoke and took a drag. “I know, and you did. I figured you'd wimp out and just never call him back until he got the hint.” I smiled and felt my face flush. “That thought had occurred to me, but all in all he was a nice guy, not some asshole who jerked me around.” “The way you did him?” She snatched back her ciggie. I cringed, and my tummy turned. I was usually the dumpee, not the dumper, and the few times I had dumped a guy, he'd given me just cause to do so. “I wish you'd stop with the whole guilt thing already. I didn't maliciously try to screw with him.” “I'm only doing it 'cause you feel bad about it.” She laughed and took one last puff. “You dated him for less than a week. You had two dates. Well, three if you count my party from hell. All in all, I think you cut it off quite reasonably in the grand scheme of things. I seriously doubt you did any real damage.” Gabby looked around, suddenly aware I was alone. “Where's your mom?”

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“She said she had some stuff to do. I think she's upset with me over my behavior last night.” “Well, I'm not; the dinner was the best part.” Gabby grinned like she'd been ringside at a boxing match watching sweaty, muscled men beat the crap out of one another. “I was just waiting for the two of you to fuck.” “Don't hold your breath waiting for that to happen.” I placed an elbow on the table and reminded myself that it wasn't going to happen. “Danny Wallace had his chance, and he blew it. He's dead to me!” Gabby laughed, and I soon followed, realizing how ridiculous I sounded. “On top of it all, I find the only log cabin slash Baptist wannabe in the tristate area.” “Julian, people who have different convictions can have successful relationships. You just need to draw the lines and respect each other's beliefs. You act like you found a head in his freezer.” “I should be so lucky.” I took a big gulp of wine. “What a sad commentary on our times when religious fanatics trump a head in the freezer.” “For the love of…well, God.” Gabby sighed. “There are probably lots of Baptists out there who don't think gay people are going to hell.” I looked at her as if she were trying to convince me she'd just returned from a joyride with a wild pack of space aliens. Despite my skepticism, the world-peace lover in me hoped she was right and I wasn't. Oh, how the optimist in me wanted to be wrong. “Regardless…he voted for Bush, for Chrissake, and left his religious propaganda lying all around the house. Out in the open. Where people can see it! I have no intention of spending the rest of my life with someone who'll be trying to convert me…dragging me to tent revivals.” “Oh my goodness, you are a mess. I think I'll refrain from writing an article about this topic.” Gabby laughed. “I think Andy will make someone a nice BF in a few years, once he's actually acclimated to being completely out of the closet.” She thanked the waitress who'd dropped off her second martini. “None of it really matters to begin with, since you're completely heels over head in love with Danny.”

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“Well, why don't you write an article about throwing a dinner party, or better yet, the boyfriend who makes one needless comment after another?” I smiled sweetly. She hadn't appreciated my comment any more than I'd appreciated hers. “Speaking of,” she continued while giving me a nasty look, “after everyone left last night, he said something that was very well thought out and made a lot of sense.” “I can't wait,” I said. “What, pray tell, was that?” “He asked me to marry him.” Gabby took a bite of her spinach salad. She made better eye contact with the leafy greens than she did with me. I gasped, clutching my napkin in my hand. “How horrible for you! What did you tell him?” “I told him I wanted to think about it.” “Oh, good one.” I grabbed my wineglass and sighed. “Buy yourself a little time to think up a good reason, and let him down easy.” “That's just it, Julian. I don't think I want to turn him down.” “Are you fucking losing it?” I asked a little too loudly. Several heads swiveled to look at our table. I smiled weakly and pulled a cigarette out of her pack. “We are talking about Bran Boy, right, whose idea of spontaneous sex was asking if you felt like having a little spontaneous sex? What's to think about? Hello?” “Hello,” she snapped back, mocking me. She scowled and took a sip from her martini glass. “You really don't see anything past your own opinions, do you?” “Okay, enlighten me. What is it about him that would make you even consider marrying him? And please don't tell me about the damn nine inches.” “Well, let's see.” She placed her glass down. “He puts the seat down on the toilet, he never leaves an empty roll of toilet paper on the holder, and he rubs my neck every night before we go to sleep. On top of all that, he's considerate of

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my feelings, and everyone else's, for that matter. I've never met anyone who cares as much for others as he does, Julian.” I sat back as her arms began flailing into the air. “He grounds me. For all of my sarcasm and feeling that the entire world is falling to shit around me, I get to come home every night to someone who sees kindness in others and the inherent goodness in the world. Those are things that I'd overlook if he weren't there pointing them out to me. If you stopped judging him for his social faux pas and the admittedly uninteresting things that sometimes come out of his mouth long enough, you might have picked up on that.” I sat there looking at her, tumbling down a shame spiral. I couldn't think of a single instance where I'd actually given the poor man an honest shot. “It's not my fault. He shouldn't have come along and messed around with my womenfolk!” Gabby looked a little surprised at my retort—though she probably wasn't any more surprised than I'd been by my own words. A smile spread across her face. “You're jealous of him?” “Yes!” I was suddenly very embarrassed, and I laughed, slamming my arm onto the table. “And all this Danny business wouldn't even be an issue if he hadn't swooped in and absconded with my best friend. I probably wouldn't even have met the rat bastard if it weren't for Bran! I forbid it!” Gabby leveled a calm stare at me and waited for me to hear my own words again. Then we both burst into laughter. “Brad's jealous of you, you know.” Gabby ripped off a piece of bread. “We make him nervous. He says we share a brain or something like that.” “Well, I obviously need to speak with him immediately.” I took a puff off my ciggie. “Like you're worth all this fussing over.”

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She chucked the chunk of bread at me and calmly picked up her glass. She downed the rest of her martini. “Besides, if I don't say yes, you won't get to be my maid of honor.” “I'm glad you have someone.” I smiled. “It's painfully obvious that you've found the one you were supposed to.” “And don't think I'll ever let you forget who found it first.” Her grin was evil. “Oh, and about this whole maid-of-honor thing.” “Yes,” she said. “Don't think for one goddamn minute you're going to stuff me into pink taffeta.” She tore off another chunk of bread. “You'll do as you're told.”

***** I still hadn't heard from my mother by the time Gabby and I finished lunch. I tried to call Delilah as I left the restaurant, but she didn't pick up. I was beginning to get nervous or worried; I couldn't quite figure out which. I knew that she was either up to something or something was wrong, so I decided to stop by the hotel to see if she was in her room. I knocked on the hotel door, and Mom opened it, stepping aside to allow me in. “Well, I feel just wretched.” I noticed that her luggage was packed and sitting next to the bed. “Are you leaving?” “Yes, honey.” She snatched up my hand and walked me over to the bed. With a gentle shove, she had me sitting down. Then she was next to me. “I thought you were staying until tomorrow.” I gestured loosely and let my hand flop back down into my lap.

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“I was, Julian, but I think I need to go today.” She placed her hands in her lap. “Maybe you can take tonight and go home and sit down and have a nice long talk with Danny.” “Mother, for God's sake.” I got up off the bed. “I know how much you like Danny. I do too. But he just isn't someone who's capable of the kind of commitment that I want. He's too busy running away from reality by chasing men. He doesn't want to be in a relationship at all, let alone one with me.” “Danny runs from reality?” She shook her head. “Julian, you are my son, and I love you more than my own life. But, honey, you're a flake.” She stunned me into silence. “People don't come in the perfect mold that you're out looking for. You keep expecting to find something that doesn't exist. There isn't a person in the world who isn't going to come with some type of baggage or an aspect of their personality that you're going to have to make concessions for.” She reached out a hand, and as I took it, she pulled me back down onto the bed. “Relationships are compromise. You say that Danny can't commit. Did you ever stop to think that maybe he has a problem with commitment because his mother died when he was just a little boy? Do I need to remind you that his father disowned him because he was gay? Perhaps he's afraid of giving himself to another person for fear they will eventually leave him too.” “Well…no.” I felt really stupid suddenly. “I mean, if it were me, I would think that would make me want to find someone to fill up that empty place in my life.” “Well, I hate to break it to you, Julian, but not everyone in the world thinks the same way you do.” She reached up, placing her delicate hand on my cheek. “You have to stop making assumptions about why other people do the things they do and think the things they think, and start asking them why they behave the way they do. Quite frankly, Julian, I think both you and Danny are hiding from what's right in front of you.”

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I nodded at her and chewed my lip. “None of this means you need to leave.” “Yes, it does, baby.” She leaned over and kissed my cheek. “I realize that your daddy and I may have allowed our own issues to overshadow you. Hell, it's a miracle you're as normal as you are. I wasn't the best when it came to keeping my opinions to myself.” A rueful smile spread over her face. “I can only imagine it was no different when you stayed with him.” I smiled back at her. “You guys got on so well at Granny Grace's funeral. What happened there?” Mom took in a deep breath and exhaled. “Your father and I are back together.” She smiled after saying it out loud. “He's going to murder me for telling you without him.” “What about Mr. PFLAG with the Seattle son…and the stock boy?” “Sweetie, I was just makin' that all up. Asking me who I was dating, like I wouldn't see through that attempt to deflect the attention away from yourself. Your father and I agreed to wait and tell you together. I only made up the fictional man in an attempt to subtly prod you into action with news of his fictional happy son.” I shook my head at her. It was kind of my own fault. I'd purposely not asked about it since the funeral for fear they'd already reverted back to being the McHatersons. Instant illness gurgled up in me at the thought of them back together; then I realized it was from the fear that it might not work out once again. When I thought about it as if they might actually make it work, I instantly felt like a teenager again. I'd forgotten how much I'd ached for my parents not to hate one another. “If you really think he'd be mad, we could pretend like you didn't tell me.” I smiled at her, ready to lie my ass off if it meant not stirring up any trouble between them.

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She squeezed my hand as if to say thanks. “Now you listen to your mother. You may wind up being content with a man like Andy, but you need a Danny if you expect to have any chance at being truly joyous.” She looked blankly at the wall for a moment, fumbling with the top button of her blouse. A smile slowly spread, taking over her face, and she looked back into my eyes. “And oh, my baby boy—believe me when I tell you—you want joyous.” “If he really wanted me, Mom, then why hasn't he ever told me?” A sense of desperation swept over me as I began to consider the possibility she was right. “Probably for the same reason you've never told him that you love him. It's a lot scarier when it's for real.” She reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair back behind her ear. “I suspect that if you were to sit down and think back over the time the two of you have spent together throughout the past year, you'll find that he has let you know. Time and time again he's shown you in little ways. You just never noticed it because it didn't come in the form of that perfect declaration you imagined it always would.” I gulped down a sigh, loving what she was saying, terrified that it might be true…and more terrified that it might not. “I swear but you men are stubborn. You have to make everything more difficult than it needs to be. All he needs is a little push, so get to shoving.” She patted me on the back. “What are you thinking?” “That everyone I care about thinks I'm a flaky nitwit,” I said. Her hand on mine tightened, and I could tell that she was losing patience. “Pull your head out of your ass, honey.” She shook her head at me, obviously disappointed. “He's a good man, Julian, and I know that he loves you, just as I know you love him.” She gave me a hug and told me she loved me, finally pulling me up off the bed with her. I picked up her bags, and we left the room.

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At the airport, I walked with her as far as security would allow. She turned and gave me a final peck on the cheek, then in the way of all mothers, wiped the lipstick off with her thumb before turning to leave.

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Chapter Twenty When I walked into the flat, Danny was sitting on the couch. “What are you doing home?” I asked. “I needed to talk to you.” He got up from the couch, looking devastatingly sexy in a pair of loose-fitting gray sweatpants that rode low on his hips and one of those damn ribbed white wifebeaters that clung to his upper body. “I'd appreciate it if you'd let me say what I have to say without interrupting me.” I nodded in agreement, seemingly unable to move from the entryway area. Danny walked around the couch, faced me, and then started pacing back and forth, occasionally holding up a finger as if he was going to begin. I looked down at his bare feet sticking out of the bottom of the sweats, then back up as he marched back and forth. I was beginning to feel a little seasick watching him. “Danny,” I said, only to stop when he held up a finger and looked at me, shaking his head. “Julian”—he let out a long breath as if my name had been stuck in his throat, blocking the flow of air—“I don't know how far things have gone with Andy.” “Danny—” “You said you wouldn't interrupt.” He started pacing again, his forehead all scrunched up. “I know you've only been seeing him for a week, and I don't know how you feel about the guy.” He stopped and turned to look at me. “Last Friday, something happened to me when I found out you were going on a date. I'd never seen you go out on a date, and it made me sick to my stomach. All I could think about all night was whether or not you were going to kiss the guy.

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Then it dawned on me that you could actually go home with him. I had to lie down after that little gem popped into my head.” I raised an eyebrow. My confusion had to have shown on my face. “You're right,” he said. “I'll get to the point. I don't want you to see him anymore.” I raised both eyebrows. “Why!” Danny pointed at me. “I didn't tell you why. Well, I just don't want you to, because…well, because, I think I love you.” He wiped his hand over his mouth. “I mean, I know I love you. There, that's why. That's why I don't want you to see him. So, will you?” I stared at him. Was it okay to talk now? What did he mean by “will you?” He started in with the pacing, looking from my face to the floor, then back up to my face. My arms dangled at my sides, feeling like dead weight. I loved what I was hearing; it was exactly the kind of thing I'd always wanted Danny to say to me—which made me wonder if I were hallucinating or something. I opened my mouth to speak. “Julian, I don't think I could stand it if you went away.” Danny froze and looked at me, his eyes almost panicked. “Why'd you do it?” I asked. “If you love me, then why bring that guy up here? Why try to hurt me?” “I know I fucked up the other night, I… Fine!” he called out as if I'd been torturing him for more information and had finally broken him. “I got scared. Happy? I said it. I got scared. Maybe I was afraid that despite loving you, I wouldn't be good for you? Maybe I was afraid I couldn't make you happy? Maybe I thought if I made you hate me, the way you did after the funeral, it could all go back to the way it was?” I reached up and massaged the back of my neck, desperate for a ciggie. “You wanted me to hate you?”

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“I wanted you so bad at the funeral.” Danny took a step toward me, then stopped himself. “Then why?” I asked, folding my arms. “You had to know I wanted that. I wasn't exactly subtle.” Danny closed his eyes and rubbed his fingers over his temple. “I've never been very good at trusting people, Julian. That's probably why I've never let anyone get very close. I only wanted a roommate in the first place because it…well, it got kinda lonely here all by myself. But you…” He pointed at me accusingly once more. “You moved in here, and all the little things about you began to weave their way into my life. You did that; you did,” he said as if suddenly pissed off. I held my ground. My body was ready to walk over to him and kiss him. God, how I wanted to kiss him, despite the alarms going off in my head, warning me of what I already knew: that I might not survive another disappointment from this man without seriously altering the person I was at the core. But suddenly, it didn't matter. Along with being the key to my ruin, I knew that Danny Wallace was quite possibly my only shot at true happiness. “God knows, Julian, you are a one-man show of nuttiness.” He looked at me, taking a few more steps closer, only to stop, as if afraid to completely close the distance. “You have dozens of pairs of pajamas, but you sleep in the nude. Why is that? You have the single worst diet of anyone I've ever known. You make scrambled eggs by putting everything in a Tupperware container and shaking it, rather than using a bowl and a beater. The astrology stuff… Christ, I could go on for hours about the astrology stuff. I mean, really, Julian…some of the things that come out of your mouth…” How could anyone love me if I was such a wretched person? Danny locked eyes with me, his shoulders slumped a bit as if suddenly exhausted by it all. “When you take these things separately, they're weird and annoying, but throw them all together and so help me”—Danny shrugged—“you're the strongest person I know. You never let me get away with any of my crap. You've

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made me better…made me want to love you…the only person who's made me feel like I actually could be happy. I like…you…as you are. Please, Julian…just tell me I'm not too late.” “I broke it off with Andy last night.” I smiled, not sure if I should cry because he loved me or cry because he apparently thought I was a big ole freak. Hello, dumb ass. Does it matter? Dude just said he loved you! “Oh.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “So what does that mean?” “It means that I love you too, you idiot.” I shook my head at him and felt my chest swell. “Not good enough? You're the only guy in the whole wide world who can make me happy. You're it for me, babe.” I watched as his body sort of filled up and the stress vanished from his face. I started to walk over to him, and my foot caught under the area rug. I fell face-first onto the floor, landing on the runner at Danny's feet with a thud. I whimpered slightly and groaned. “I'm going to burn this fucking rug!” He laughed and sat down on the carpet above my head. I pulled myself up and sat across from him. We looked intently at one another as if we each waited for the other to do or say something first. “Shouldn't we, like, kiss or something?” I asked. “Yeah, probably.” His gaze flitted back and forth from my eyes to my forehead. “You have a rug burn on your forehead.” “I'm sorry. Is that ruining the mood?” “I just thought it was strange,” he said. “Are you gonna kiss me?” “Do I have to do everything?” A deep breath calmed me. I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around his neck. Danny placed one arm around my waist and brought the other behind my head, working his fingers into my hair. As he cocked his head slightly, we kissed, and I felt my whole body relax into his. I breathed in

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through my nose and caught the scent of that familiar something that let me know this was the place I belonged, the smell of books. His tongue danced slowly with mine, and his taste made me want to cry out from happiness. I loved having him inside me, and kissing Danny like this, knowing he was finally all mine, made it that much sweeter. His short hair prickled my fingertips as I ran them over the back of his head. Danny pulled away, his eyes hazy as we each tried to catch our breath. I smiled at him. “You like me just as I am?” Danny's face immediately began to burn bright red. “Yes, damn it. I already said it all.” “And it was very romantic.” I smiled greedily. “Can you just—” “I'm not saying it again.” Danny cut me off. “Christ almighty.” “Just one or two—” “Absolutely not.” Danny reached up and ran the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip while he softly gave me a peck on the lips. “Okay, but maybe just the one part—” Danny lightly grazed my lips with his. “I love you, damn it.” I felt what had to be a big cheesy grin take over my face as the realization of what was happening began to truly sink in. “I'm gonna make you so happy.” “Shut up and kiss me, Julian,” he said with a resigned sigh. So I did.

Other Loose Id(R) Titles by Ethan Day Dreaming of You Self Preservation

Ethan Day I am a gay man living in Missouri…I can hear the gasps already!! How very un-sheik of me, yes I know. It was here I was born, and here I have stayed. The worst thing about being a romance writer is finding a real-life hottie that can live up to the fantasy I create in my head and subsequently thrust upon him before actually getting to know him. To all my past and future boyfriends, my sincerest apologies…I can‟t help myself! I was the youngest of four children and the only boy, so needless to say, I was spoiled rotten. I‟ve always had an extravagant fantasy life. When I played with my Star Wars action figures as a child, I liked to make up my own stories. Naturally, Luke Skywalker and Han Solo were totally meant for each other, and Princess Leia made a bitchin‟ wise-cracking fag hag. I somehow managed to survive high school living in a small racist town in Southwest Missouri and emerged unscathed, realizing life was too short to pretend to be anything other than who I was. I was the little homo that could…so damn it, I did! After a few stints in college, I eventually signed up for a Creative Writing course. I took the class because there were no tests. For once my scholastic laziness paid off, and I found an outlet for all the fantasies running amok in my head. It was love at first write, and I‟ve been doing it off and on ever since. Now I have decided it‟s time to un-barricade the doors and unleash my imagination onto the world. So very sorry, world!! With the help of the lovely and talented team at Loose Id, LLC, my fantasy life is now available for public consumption. I‟m desperately hoping you‟re really, really hungry. Feel free to visit Ethan on the Web at http://www.ethandayonline.com or join his Yahoogroup at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ethanday/