Steve stood silent. Josh sized him up. The guy took a deep breath and held it as he leaned on the spine of the door, a hand on each knob like he needed support. Steve was quite a bit bigger and probably a little older than Josh, but the guy acted like a kid, kind of immature.
“Come in.” Steve opened the door wide. “I need to sell this place.”
“Are you sure? You look angry. I don’t like that.” He wouldn’t put up with it either.
“No, come in.” A stiff smile burdened Steve’s face. “I’m happy to see you.” His upper lip twitched.
Josh’s hand, of its own accord, reached out and squeezed the guy’s shoulder. Solid muscle, like he remembered, but so tense. “Breath, buddy. You’re tight.” Steve didn’t listen to him. No exhalation. No slackening. No use, Josh dropped his hand.
Steve’s cheek quivered above his strong jaw. The dimple on his chin deepened. He gestured a welcome in.
Josh’s foot stepped forward against his better judgment. Passing by Steve, he caught the scent of salt, were there such thing. It brought him back to the night they met. What had he done to piss this guy off? His hand itched. Oh yeah, that, no wonder.
He took a quick look around. “I see why you called it a dump.”
Steve startled. “I didn’t say that.”
“Dan said you did.”
“I didn’t use the word dump. Dan called you?”
“Yes, he called me on the road. Sorry, I got your message late. Actually, I haven’t listened to it yet.” Josh patted his pockets. “Shit, left the phone on the bike again.” He checked the jacket and didn’t find it.
Something stood out in the room. A home gym in the area next to the kitchen, what was the story with that? Who has a gym where they eat? Wracks and weights. Chords and heavy rubber bands. Red vinyl benches. No table. “Is this the dining room?” He hung his jacket on a bar.
“The owner’s a little eccentric.” Steve closed the door and stood beside it. “Eight hundred square foot studio. Partial Strip view. Mind if I smoke?”
“It smells like you already did.”
Steve lit up. Josh sauntered over to the blinds and opened them. The window viewed a building close by, shiny metal and glass lit from within. He placed the side of his head flat against the pane and stared at a sharp angle for a glimpse of The Strip between the towers, just a sliver. Cars waited on a corner for the light.
He walked the length of the window to the far side of the room, where a little corridor ran to a bathroom on one side and closets on the other. The louvered doors opened to a laundry facility on the left. And on the right? “What’s this? Metal lamps on stands. Lightning equipment?”
Steve blew smoke. “It’s not part of the deal.”
Josh stepped back into the main room and stopped by the pullout sofa. A wrinkled sheet covered the mattress. Beside it on the end table, a gold-leafed lamp glistened like some sort of nymph with her breasts exposed and a finger to her lips. She peered down on the bed and cast shadows in the creases.
A deck of cards, an ashtray, and a pack of Marlboros rested on the glass-topped coffee table. Someone had pushed it against the wall. Beneath, shag carpet clumped, sticky. Above it, a dice clock hung next to a huge television screen.
Josh straddled the sofa arm and rested a knee on the edge of the bed. “They shoot porn here, don’t they? That’s what it feels like.”
Smoke shadowed Steve’s mouth. “Who knows? We wanted to change the décor, but the owner wouldn’t let us.”
“Where is he?”
“Out of town.” Steve flicked ashes.
“Well, I don’t know if this is what I had in mind, but I wouldn’t be buying the furniture anyway.”
Leaning on the door, Steve took another drag. “What do you want?”
“A rental,” Josh said.
“Why?”
“Income when I can’t do what I do.”
“I know what that is, what you do.” Steve exhaled. “You wouldn’t tell me.”
The smoke triggered Josh’s memory, not about the fuck, unforgettable, but the short conversation before. He flashed back to the expressions on Steve’s face.
Josh hadn’t paid much attention at the time. It wasn’t like talk was the focus of the evening. Whatever he said or didn’t say, he hadn’t realized it mattered. Now Steve seemed aggravated at him for whatever it was. Odd.
“You never told me you were a dancer.” Josh went on the offensive.
“I’m mostly a realtor.”
“You never told me that either.”
“You didn’t ask. It’s no secret. I’m on billboards.”
Josh didn’t want to hide and struggled to make sense of it. “Would you have believed me back then, if I’d told you I came from a long line of trapeze artists and circus acrobats?”
Steve’s eyes fixed on Josh’s jacket where it hung on the gym, and feet followed. He touched the lapel. “You’ve got a point, I guess. It wasn’t like a date or anything. I didn’t know you. Maybe I wouldn’t believe it, not at first, but definitely by morning.”
He touched the leather and got a far-away look in his eye. The forced smile fell away, and the hint of a real one took its place. His hand dropped from the coat, but eyes stared and smiled at it.
Josh chuckled under his breath. For a minute he wished he was in that jacket when Steve touched it. He might have liked to get to know him better, if not for the curse. Sorry now for having hurt his feelings back then, Josh wanted to make it up to him. A sentiment came to mind. “Do you know the day of the week it was when we met? I do.”
Steve’s eyes left the coat and looked at him without hesitation. “Yeah, of course, it was Tuesday, early.”
This guy surprised him. “How did you know that?”
“Why wouldn’t I? You told me it was your day off.”
“Oh.” The curse assured a Tuesday. Unaware of the significance, Steve remembered the day off.
Since that Tuesday, in Josh’s dreams, someone like Steve had met him. Now that misty face in the dream grew fondly familiar. Josh regretted having treated the real Steve so badly.
They studied each other across the room. Steve stood by the coffee table next to the door. Josh sat on the arm of the couch, one foot on the ground and the other leg against the mattress.
Josh imagined the torso beneath Steve’s button-up shirt. In fact, he’d come across that chest many times, not only in his dream, but on billboards near the airport and the marquee he’d seen that night. He should have recognized him but didn’t. He’d lost his focus, paid too much attention to too many details and missed the important one.
Steve walked to the bed and sat by him. The gold-leafed nymph winked. Maybe Josh imagined it. She lit one side of Steve’s face, the other side in darkness. Josh focused on the shadowed lips. They moved. “Look, I’m disappointed I couldn’t see you again, but I’m a big boy. I’ll get over it. Sorry I was mad. It’s unprofessional, and what’s the point of pouting. If you don’t like this one, let me show you something else. My father’s been in the business for years and says a house is a better investment. Who knows how much the maintenance fee’s going up next year? It’s already too high on this place. I do have your number, now, but I won’t call. If you want my help, you know where to find me.”
“Thanks Steve, I appreciate that.”
Steve spread a palm on the mattress and leaned on it. “Is there anything else you want to see?”
“No, but it was nice running into you again.”
“Then you don’t want to try out…the set?” Steve patted the bed.
Josh laughed. “No.” He got up to get his coat.
“I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry. It’s not right, not from a realtor. It won’t happen again.” Steve stood up and smoothed the wrinkled sheet. He walked to the door and opened it.
“No worries.” Josh tipped his head to the corridor and stepped out.
Steve followed and locked up. When they got to the visitor parking, Josh offe
red a handshake. Steve’s grasp was firm and held a bit too long before releasing. He stood close, while Josh mounted the bike.
The Diavel backed up. They said goodbye. He spun off. On his way out, Josh turned and looked behind before he exited the garage. Steve was still there, where he left him watching, and they waved. The bike turned the corner on the manicured lane and into the bright lights of the night.
Chapter 8
Men were so strange. Gay or straight, it didn’t matter. Genie clutched her tummy with one hand and with the other opened the refrigerator. She leaned on it. A wave of nausea came and went. Then she took out the bowl of potato salad and closed the door.
On the way to the den, she opened a drawer for a serving spoon and put it in the bowl. When she left the kitchen, Steve sat in his armchair and thumbed his phone with a bag of chips on his lap. He didn’t look up.
There was nothing she could do for him. He was hopeless. Was it because she was a woman that he wouldn’t listen to her? Maybe. He had no idea what was good for him.
She put the bowl on the coffee table and sat on the couch. Dan came in from the patio with the burgers. She crossed her arms over the emerging bulge. It showed, and Dan had put on some weight too, as if in sympathy. Taco begged at his feet.
A hint of steam rose from the meat as Dan put the platter on the table. He made her one the way she liked it with generous mayonnaise, a little ketchup and relish, a dab of mustard, lettuce, tomato, and a very thin slice of onion, maybe not such a good idea today. She took the plate he handed her as he sat beside her. The after-game commentary pattered on the television. He always liked to listen to it. There wouldn’t be much conversation in her direction. These men!
She balanced the plate on her lap. Steve didn’t have anything to eat but the chips. He still fiddled with that damn phone. “You know if you put it down and had a conversation once in a while, you might meet someone.”
He ignored her, but the burgers caught his attention. Lately it seemed to her, he ate all the time. Even when full, he complained about it, but kept going. Nothing satisfied his hunger.
Juice from the hamburger ran down Steve’s chin. He took his feet off the coffee table and reached for a napkin. Some got on his shirt. He grabbed another burger from the platter. What a pig he was. Genie scrunched her nose at the sight of it.
Dan was so cute. Her shoulder leaned into his. They made a sweet couple together, even if she did say so herself, sitting next to him on their couch. Steve got the armchair, all alone. If she had her way, he would sit on a loveseat too. He was her project. She had a mission to get him married. Everyone should be. Why she cared, she didn’t know. It made no sense, but she did. A nesting instinct perhaps, maybe something to do with the hormones, a side effect of pregnancy, like the nausea.
Dan put down his burger and pointed to the commentator on screen. “That interception reminded me of mine in the Reno game.”
“Yeah.” Steve didn’t bother to finish chewing first. “Except you made the score with yours.”
These men and their football, that’s all they ever talked about. It was a mystery to her. There was more to them than that. They’d known each other their whole lives. Some of the stories Steve told her were hilarious. He was such a goofball, that guy.
One movie-night when Dan was walking the dog, Steve had a beer too many, and she couldn’t believe what he told her about those two when they were kids on a sleep over. It was a desperate night in puberty, and they ended up jerking off in the same room. She had to laugh, which got their attention. They both glanced at her and away from the TV for a change. She waited for them to ask her what was so funny, but neither did.
The guys never talked about it among themselves of course. Steve had told her he doubted Dan remembered those pubescent escapades. She might bring it up for a laugh someday at the right moment. Dan would be mortified and deny it, whether he remembered or not. So silly, boys did these things sometimes. What did it matter?
The way Steve explained it, Dan paid no attention to him, while Steve couldn’t help but look. Dan was too imposing to spark much interest, bigger in all respects than him and intimidating. She’d noticed Steve’s tastes seemed to lean toward men he could overpower, not that he ever did that sort of thing. She hadn’t heard about it anyway, but with Chris, he could have if he wanted to.
She missed Chris, their little chats before the breakup. She liked him, and they were close enough that he confided in her some things about Steve that Steve would never tell her himself, like about his problem. Too bad it didn’t work out.
Maybe there was still hope for them. Steve kept that crazy ringtone for him, and she heard Chris call sometimes, but not often. Steve referred to him as his old standby now. That wasn’t nice.
On another movie-night, she learned from Steve that he and Dan, back in the day, rode dirt bikes. Out on the desert they caught lizards and fished at Lake Mead. Later, they took the same classes at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, and of course attended the football games. Dan never talked much about his childhood. So, Steve told her all the stories, and she loved imagining her husband as he had been before she knew him.
Indirectly, she got to hear about Steve’s first boyfriend. Steve brought him to watch a game with Dan. As the three of them sat on the couch in front of the TV, the boyfriend got clingy, fingers in Steve’s hair, arm around his shoulder, leg on thigh. He even wanted to hold hands.
Between plays, Dan looked at them but said nothing, neither by word nor expression. He showed no surprise. Though they’d never discussed it, he and Dan, they somehow knew each other. To her, friendship seemed impossible without talking about things. She didn’t understand how they managed without it, but apparently, they preferred it that way.
She nibbled on her sandwich and took off the onion. Not much appetite, the queasiness came and went. Dan was on his second and Steve on his third, the potato salad almost gone.
If it wasn’t for her, they might have drifted apart. Steve stood in their wedding, but they didn’t see him much after that. She and Dan were busy for a while, newlyweds and all. A few months passed. Maybe it was a year or two.
When Steve happened to show up bare-chested on a billboard by the airport, it caught her attention. She wasn’t too proud to admit it. This made Dan’s old buddy more interesting than he’d ever been before.
It was a fluke he got that job, according to Steve. All he had to do was line up on a lark for a mass audition, dragged there by a friend who liked the way he danced at the club.
After that, she called him every once in a while, and took on the role of social director for her husband. They invited Steve over to watch a game from time to time. Then, there were her movie nights. That was a great idea of hers if she did say so herself.
She was good for them. She kept them informed about themselves, what was going on in their lives and things they would never talk about otherwise, like their feelings. They vocalized and heard it better with her than from each other. Between Steve and Dan, it was football, always and only football.
But there were some things Steve didn’t talk about even with her, like his problem. She had to hear it from Chris, the ex who, unlike Steve, had no qualms. When she brought it up at work with the guys at the hospital, they didn’t have any trouble discussing it either, probably because it wasn’t their problem or maybe because of their occupations. If they were squeamish about bodily functions, they had to get over it.
Jason, the physician’s assistant, said it was internalized homophobia. Sam, the psychiatric nurse, attributed it to fear of intimacy. Luca, the medical coder, classified it as toxic masculinity, while Michael, the burly orderly, chalked it up to personal preference and hoped someday to meet Steve. None of them believed it. Steve had never bottomed, as they put it. According to Chris, he wouldn’t even consider it. Apparently, Steve’s problem, though not unheard of, was somewhat rare.
The game commentary ended, and the guys were still eating without a word. Footb
all wasn’t her sport, but she had another one lined up. It started with eye contact. Steve avoided it.
“So, how’s it going?” She looked at him.
He glanced up like he was on to her. It was time for a game of twenty questions, and she was the champion.
Taco jumped off Dan’s lap and followed him toward the kitchen. “Want another beer, Steve?”
“Sure. Thanks. Want a beer, Genie?”
He didn’t know. She thought Dan would have told him. No, what was she thinking? Of course, he didn’t. A baby wasn’t a football. “I shouldn’t. Didn’t Dan tell you? We’re expecting.”
“Oh! That’s wonderful.”
He took his feet off the coffee table and looked really surprised. She hoped his feelings weren’t hurt. Why didn’t Dan say anything? She’d already told all her friends. “I think he gets a little overwhelmed. Don’t let him know we talked about it. He’ll tell you himself.”
“Okay.”
He didn’t seem to mind, which was a good thing, since she might be on her way to the delivery room before Dan told him anything. Did Dan tell any of his other friends, even the ones who were married and had kids? She wondered.
When Dan returned, he set a sweaty bottle of beer on the coffee table in front of Steve, who leaned forward and poured it in the empty mug. He always liked a mug. Dan plopped back down beside her. He picked up the remote, and the TV switched on to a scene from Some Like It Hot. He flipped the channel. Taco jumped on his lap.
“Oh, I love that movie!” Genie clapped her hands together. “We saw it. Remember, Steve?”
No response.
Dan stretched his legs. “I think Taco wants a walk.” Ears perked up. Four little feet jumped to the ground and danced.
She leaned against her husband before he could get up. “Have you noticed he seems a little distracted lately?” She gestured toward Steve and caught a slight glance from his direction.
Steve hated it when she talked about him like he wasn’t there. So that’s what she did whenever he ignored her.
The Curse of Flight Page 4