by Marie Sexton
He looked up at me like I had lost my mind and said slowly,
“Yeah. Why?”
I couldn’t believe it. Geisha would glare at me any time she saw me and meow at me in outrage when her food bowl was empty or it was too cold outside. And she would occasionally bat at my face to wake me up at four in the morning and had been known to pee in my dirty laundry pile when I didn’t clean her box. But she never, ever sat in my lap.
“How did you get her to come to you?” I asked him in awe.
He shrugged. “Just sittin’ here and she jumped up.”
I could only stare at him in shock.
“What’s the big deal?” he asked.
“All this time I thought she hated people. I guess she really just hates me.” My own cat. Nice.
The pizza finally came. “Do you want to watch the movie while we eat or stay in here?” I asked. “I could turn on some music, but I have a feeling you’d hate it.”
He looked at the puzzle and looked into the living room, then pointed to the table and said, “Let’s take this in there and do both.” So we moved the table into the living room and sat on adjacent sides, eating pizza, working the puzzle, and watching violence and mayhem. Angelo was right. There was nothing better.
I DIDN’T hear from Tom at all the next week. I thought about calling, but I didn’t want to come off sounding desperate. I was starting to realize that our relationship wasn’t really a relationship at all.
I tried not to think about it too much. It was just too depressing.
Somehow Angelo ended up at my place almost every night that week. A couple of times I invited him. A couple of times, I wasn’t sure how it came to pass. Either way I was glad to have the company. We finished the first puzzle and started a second one. We had fun together, and it was definitely better than spending the evening contemplating my non-relationship with Tom.
Monday rolled around again, but that week, I at least had something to look forward to. The next weekend was Folk Fest, a weekend-long music festival in Lyons, Colorado. I went every year, even if I had to close the shop. I was really looking forward to getting away for a few days. I couldn’t help but wish, though, that I wasn’t going alone.
My original plan was to give Angelo his choice between covering the store while I was gone or taking the weekend off, but by the time he came in that morning, I had a different plan.
“What are you doing this weekend, Angelo?” I asked him as soon as he came in.
“Nothin’. Why?”
“Have you ever heard of Folk Fest?”
“Is that like Bluegrass Fest, ’cept with folk music?”
“Exactly.”
“Nope, never heard of it.”
That made me smile. “You’d love the food there,” I told him.
“They have these chicken-basil pot stickers that are to die for. They have curry too. I haven’t tried it, though. They said it was pretty hot.”
He smirked at me. “Wimp.”
And I couldn’t help but smile back. “I know. You want to come with me?”
“It’s folk music?” he asked incredulously.
“Well, yes, but there’s a pretty broad spectrum of music that falls under that category. You’d be surprised. We’ll just hang out in the sun and drink beer and people-watch. What do you think?” He looked over at me, and it looked like he was thinking about it. I realized how much I hoped that he would say yes. “The ticket’s kind of expensive, but I’ll split it with you.” That would seriously cut into my funds, but I suddenly didn’t care. “It’ll be fun. Will you come?”
He gave me that lopsided smirk. “You want me to hang out with you all weekend and listen to shitty music?”
“I do.”
“Why the hell would I do that?” But I knew that impudent tone and the spark in his eyes, and I knew he was planning to say yes.
“Just for the hell of it?”
“Don’t say I never did nothin’ for you, Zach.”
I was still laughing when Jeremy walked in.
“Zach, I’m here to get your signature on these petitions.” He had three clipboards in his hand. I didn’t even ask what they were for. I just started signing, passing each one to Ang as I finished.
“Have you watched that movie yet?”
“No,” Angelo answered for me, “but we ordered a copy. It should be here next week.”
That seemed to make Jeremy happy. Ruby was next.
“Did you have a vision?” Angelo asked her. He sounded completely serious, but I could see the glint in his eyes that betrayed his amusement.
“As a matter of fact, young man, I did. I saw you standing by two stone doors. Then your brother came and opened one for you, and you pushed a blind man through.” She nodded, then turned to me and said knowingly, “It was that black man who sings.”
“Stevie Wonder or Ray Charles?” I asked, trying not to laugh.
“Well,” she said, looking confused, “the black one.”
Angelo’s look of amusement was gone. “Don’t have a brother,” he said bluntly.
“Oh.” Now she looked even more confused. “Are you quite sure, dear?”
Angelo just glared at her, and she turned and left, muttering to herself.
“You could have a brother,” I said gently to Angelo. “Have you ever thought about looking for your family?”
He turned away from me without a word, and I knew that subject was closed. Before I could say anything else, the door opened and Tom walked in. I wasn’t really sure what I felt when I saw him. Part of me just wanted to end things with him, but there was still a part of me that wanted him too.
“Hey, baby.” Tom kissed me on the cheek, and Angelo turned his back on us, but not before I saw the look of hatred on his face.
“Come in back with me?” Tom asked.
Another blow job in the office? Not today. “I’m pretty busy right now.” That was obviously a lie, but so what?
“Okay.” He looked a little bit amused but didn’t argue. “Can I see you this weekend?”
“I’m going out of town for the weekend.” It felt ridiculously good to say that to him.
He looked surprised. “Where you going?”
“To Folk Fest, in Lyons.”
His face lit up. “Really? I’ve always thought that sounded like fun. Want some company?”
I was surprised to realize that my gut response was to say no.
But part of me was flattered that he wanted to go away with me for the weekend. A whole weekend together—I pictured us shopping the vendors, holding hands, sharing ice cream, making love. I did want that. I wanted us to be a real couple.
“I’ll be camping. Are you willing to sleep on the ground?”
“For you? Of course.” He stepped up to me and put an arm around my waist. “Can I see you tonight? I can come by around nine.”
“I guess.”
“Good. I’ve been missing you.”
He left a few minutes later. As soon as the door closed behind him, Angelo rounded on me. “Are you stupid or somethin’?” he asked angrily.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shook his head and turned away. “That guy don’t care ’bout you. He’s just usin’ you and you keep lettin’ him.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes I do, Zach,” he said matter-of-factly. “Don’t go to the festival with him. You’ll end up regrettin’ it.”
I was trying not to sound as defensive as I felt. “Maybe a weekend away will be good for us.”
He snorted. “Good for him, you mean. He’ll get his knob polished, and you’ll get nothin’.”
“Can you give me some credit, Angelo? I’m not that stupid.”
“Looks like you are to me.” I didn’t say anything, but his words hurt me more than I would have expected. I turned my back on him, so he wouldn’t see it on my face, and a minute later he said, grudgingly, “Sorry.”
“I’d still like for you to come,” I said quietly.
“No fuckin’ way. Not if he’s goin’.” His voice was gentler now. “I’ll cover the store so you don’t have to close.”
“Are you still coming over tonight?” I knew he would leave before Tom showed up. If he showed up.
“Sure. I got the perfect movie picked out.”
The “perfect movie” ended up being American Beauty. “I don’t get it,” I said at the end.
“It’s about desire. Sometimes what you think you want isn’t what you really want.” He glanced over at me, and a blush started to creep up his cheeks, but he kept talking. “See, the cheerleader just wants to be wanted. And the daughter wants to be loved for who she is. But Kevin Spacey, that’s who you should think about. ’Cause he thinks he wants his wife to respect him, but what he really wants is to respect himself. And he thinks he wants the cheerleader, ’cause of who he thinks she is. But then he finds out she’s not what he thought, and that means what he wanted wasn’t real, either.”
I was impressed. I hadn’t realized he was going for specific themes. “Trying to tell me something, Angelo?” I asked lightly. He didn’t answer. He finished his beer and sat looking down at the empty bottle in his hand.
“How old are you, Ang?”
He looked up at me in surprise. “Twenty-seven.”
That was actually older than I thought he was, and I realized it was the fact that he seemed to not have to shave that made him look younger than he was. Still seven years younger than me. It seemed like a long time since I had been twenty-seven. He had been supporting himself for more than ten years. I thought back to when I was his age—I had only been a few years out of college.
“Stop it,” Angelo said reprovingly.
“Stop what?”
“Thinkin’ that I’m so young and you’re so old.”
I had to laugh at how he magically seemed to know what I was thinking. “I specifically remember you making a reference to my ‘long, lost youth’.”
His eyes met mine and they weren’t laughing at all. “You’re not old, Zach. You gotta quit actin’ like your life is over.”
Was that how I acted?
He glanced at the clock. It was almost nine. “I gotta go.”
I knew he wanted to leave before Tom showed up. “You can stay longer. I’m sure he’ll be late.”
“I’m sure he will too. The fuckin’ stupid thing is, you’re not even pissed about it.”
“Ang—”
“See you tomorrow, Zach.”
…Angelo
TOM’S comin’ over tonight, which means I’ll definitely leave early.
No way do I want to pass that guy on the stairs, knowin’ he’s on his way to be with Zach. I know it’s none of my business who Zach sleeps with. Still, makes me nuts to think of them together. Can’t stand to think of Tom touchin’ Zach or kissin’ him or fuckin’ him. I tell myself I only feel this way ’cause Tom’s an asshole and Zach is my friend. Can’t be more to it than that.
I’m headed for the door when I see the condoms. Brand new box of ’em sittin’ on the counter. I’m glad Zach’s bein’ careful, but at the same time, I feel some kind of madness buildin’ in me, knowin’ what they mean.
Why should that stupid fuckin’ box make me want to scream and cry and rage and stomp my feet on the floor like a goddamn kid? Why do I want to rail at Zach, bolt the door, and pretend none of it is real? Must be ’cause Zach’s gettin’ some, and I’m not. Truth is, it’s been a long time for me. A long time since I let anyone touch me. Before I have time to think about it much, I open the box, take two, and stick them in my pocket. Haven’t been to a club in almost a year, but I know I’m goin’ tonight.
Clubs are easy for me. I look younger than I am and I’m pretty small. Lots of guys seem to dig that. Always been able to take my pick.
Years ago I did this all the time. Almost every night. If someone handed me a drink, I drank it. A joint, I smoked it. A pill, I swallowed it. Ended up in lots of bad situations with all kinds of people. Woke up in places I didn’t recognize. Then one night I went home with a guy. He wasn’t the type I usually went for. He was a big jock type. Pushy. Knew in my gut it was a bad fuckin’ idea. He gave me that vibe—same vibe I get from Tom—but I was drunk and lookin’ to score. We agreed on oral before leavin’ the club, but once we got to his place he wanted somethin’ else. Didn’t want to take no for an answer, either. Things got pretty intense for a bit. In the end I got away, and I’m pretty sure that guy ended up with a broken nose and a sore sac. Still scared the shit out of me.
Didn’t go back to the clubs for a long time after that. Saved money for weeks to afford the tests at the clinic. Lucky as hell they all came back clean. That’s when I quit clubbin’.
Mostly.
Thing is, there’s times when jackin’ off just isn’t quite enough.
Since that night I got rules. First rule: I never take anybody back to my place. Won’t go to their place either, unless they live within walkin’ distance. Don’t want to have to rely on anybody for a ride home. I’ll go to their car, if they have one. Best bet is to pick one of the guys who work at the club, ’cause they can get us to one of the back rooms.
Not tonight, though. Tonight I got a guy picked out. He’s sittin’ with some friends lookin’ way out of place. The club’s almost industrial. These guys look like they just wandered in off the fuckin’ golf course. They’re all starin’ around with huge eyes and nervous smiles. Slummin’, I guess. What the fuck ever. My guy’s got dark brown hair. Like Zach’s. But I’m not thinkin’ ’bout him. Wearin’ one of those stupid fuckin’ shirts with the little horses on it. Like Zach. I’m still not thinkin’ ’bout him.
I lean against the bar and just stare at him. Know it sounds stupid, but it always works. Doesn’t take long for him to see me.
When he does, he actually turns around and looks behind him, to see if I’m lookin’ at somebody else. I smile and wave him over. He’s probably in his late thirties, and he’s gettin’ a little heavy around the middle. Don’t matter. Not like I’m gonna be lookin’ at him.
“Hey,” he says when he gets to me. Then he stops, ’cause he obviously has no fuckin’ clue what he’s supposed to say next.
“We don’t gotta bullshit,” I tell him. “Want to go for a little walk with me?”
His eyes get big. Brown eyes. Not like Zach’s. That’s good.
’Cause I’m not thinkin’ ’bout him.
“Sure.” He glances back at his friends, who are just starin’ at us like we’re the fuckin’ main event. “Let me tell my friends—”
“Don’t bother. You’ll be comin’ right back.”
I can’t tell if he’s disappointed by that or not. Don’t really care. He follows me out of the club. I take him down the street to a coffee shop. Never much business this time of night. The bathrooms are big and clean and not the type with the stalls. These are meant for one person at a time and the doors lock. For a nice tip, the baristas will look the other way and leave you alone as long as you want. I know a bathroom ain’t exactly romantic, but nobody here’s lookin’ for romance. The girl workin’ tonight has blue streaks in her hair and lots of metal in her face. I slip her a twenty, and she winks at me.
My guy follows me in without a word, and I lock the door. He leans against the wall and looks at me like he just won the fuckin’ lottery. Guess maybe he did. He’s waitin’ for me to tell him what to do. I like that. Not that I want to be some kind of domineerin’ asshole, but I won’t let guys push me around when it comes to sex. I gotta call the shots.
I know instinctively Zach would let me. But I’m not thinkin’ ’bout him.
More rules now. I don’t let them kiss me. Never let them fuck me. Won’t tell them my name, even though they always ask. They usually tell me theirs, but I don’t listen.
Right on cue, he says, “What’s your name?”
“Dave.” I pull a condom out of my pocket and hand it to him.
“Gotta wear it.”
“Sure. O
kay.” Poor guy’s so nervous, he’s startin’ to sweat a little. He just stands there lookin’ at the little foil package like it might blow up in his hands.
I make myself smile. I push close to him and start to undo his pants. “It’s okay, man. Just relax. I’ll take care of everything.”
He’s not exactly relaxin’, but I can see the anticipation in his eyes. Arousal is startin’ to win out over nervousness. I get his pants out of the way. He’s already completely hard. I stroke him a few times with my hands, ’til he quits bein’ freaked out and starts to roll with it. His eyes close and his breathin’ starts to speed up. Then I put the condom on.
“Hey.” I wait for him to open his eyes and look at me. “You touch my head, I’ll leave you here with a bad fuckin’ case of blue balls. Got it?”
He nods. Good enough.
I get down in front of him and start. I’m good at this. Don’t ask me why, ’cause I don’t know. I can swallow a guy pretty deep.
Guess that’s part of it. Seems like that can’t be all of it, but like I said, I don’t know. This guy definitely likes it. As soon as I start, he says, “Holy fuck!” He actually starts to reach for my head, too, but then he catches himself and puts both of his hands behind his back.
I do my best to make it good for him, especially since he didn’t argue with me about the condom. I don’t take him to the edge right away. I let him get real close a couple of times, then back off. Even use my fingers on his rim a little bit. When he finally comes, he cries out and grabs my shoulders so hard, I think I might end up with bruises. I don’t mind. He didn’t touch my head. That’s all I really care about.
Afterward I rinse out my mouth while he’s still catchin’ his breath. Finally he looks over at me, and if he thought he’d won the lotto before, now he looks like he just found out the payout is twice what he originally thought.
“What would you like?” he asks.
“Same thing.” I pull out a condom and offer it to him. “It’s up to you whether I wear this or not.”
He shakes his head. He’s already gettin’ down in front of me and undoin’ my pants. “You can grab all you want,” he says. “I don’t mind.” And then he starts. I close my eyes, and just let myself drift away with the feelin’ of his lips on me. It’s been so fuckin’ long, I almost forgot how good it feels. Can’t remember right now why I don’t let this happen more often. He said I could grab him, and I do. I hold on tight, feel that dark brown hair in my hands, and tell myself over and over again I’m not gonna think about Zach.