by A. M. Arthur
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Her tone got Daddy’s attention off the television. He hit mute and yanked the lever on his chair so he could stand up. I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep it from them, but I didn’t think it would come up within two minutes of walking in the door. I could keep secrets about as good as a screen door could block the wind.
“I saw Adam yesterday,” I said.
Momma’s eyes went wide and round, while Daddy got red-faced. “What in blazes did that boy want with you?” he asked. He’d tried to drop his accent over the years, but it roared back out when he was mad.
“It wasn’t really on purpose.” I explained the benefit briefly and that he’d been just as surprised to see me.
“You shouldn’t have gone begging to that man in the first place,” Daddy said.
“We weren’t begging, and the lists were random. I didn’t know Adam was interning there. It was bad luck, is all. If Mr. Quartermaine’s meeting wasn’t late, we’d have talked directly to him.”
“Did that boy have anything to say for himself?” Momma asked. She crossed her arms, feathers ruffled, more annoyed now than concerned.
“I mean they scrambled my brain with that brick, Ryan.”
“Yeah, he did, actually.” My stomach rumbled, as much from nerves as being empty. “Can we talk about it while we eat? I’m hungrier than a spring bear.”
We moved the intervention into the kitchen. I helped Momma put a plate of baked barbecue chicken, fried potatoes, string beans, and a bowl of sliced tomatoes and cucumbers onto the table. Daddy grabbed the iced tea pitcher and poured glasses for me and Momma. Once we’d settled in with food on our plates and said the blessing, Momma gave me three bites of chicken before she went on full-force again with questions.
“Well? What did Adam have to say to you?” she asked.
“How much did you guys know about his injuries from the bashing?” I asked.
They shared a quick look I couldn’t figure. “We knew what everyone else knew, baby. He had a broken arm and skull fracture, plus bumps and bruises from the fight.”
“Did you know about the memory loss?”
Her eyebrows went up. Even Daddy stopped eating long enough to stare at me.
“What memory loss?” he asked.
“Most of the night,” I said. “He says he remembers deciding to go to Pizza City because he wanted to talk to me, and then he woke up in ICU. He doesn’t remember what we said to each other, what Chad said to us, nothin’. Adam’s father wouldn’t let us talk to each other, and he apparently wasn’t all that truthful to Adam, so Adam’s been in the dark all these years.”
Momma picked at her paper napkin. “You believe him?” she asked.
“I do. Adam was… we could never lie to each other. He had no idea we were friends again, for a little while, before the fight started.”
“That man!” Daddy said. He slammed his palm down on the table, making the bowl of string beans rattle. “Slimier than a greased pig and twice as useless, lettin’ his child spend three years not knowin’ facts of his own life. Not knowin’ what you gave up to save him more hurt.”
My nerves jumped. “I didn’t tell Adam about that.”
“Obviously Raymond Langley didn’t, either. Son of a bitch.”
I didn’t disagree. Adam had been lied to and not given any choices about how things were gonna be after the bashing. “I gave Adam the highlights, but he wants the details. He does deserve them.”
Momma caught my tone. “But?” she prompted.
“Seein’ him again stirred up all those old feelings for me, and maybe for him too. But Adam’s not out, and I doubt he ever will be. Not with his daddy holdin’ the purse strings so tight.”
“You don’t want him to break your heart again.”
“No, I don’t, and I’m pretty sure he will.”
You’d think talking about stuff like this, especially gay stuff, with your parents would be weird. But my parents are pretty awesome, and nothing about it was awkward or embarrassing. They knew it all, anyway.
“You don’t have to see him again, y’know,” Daddy said. “If he wants details, send him an e-mail and be done with it.”
“I kinda do have to see him again,” I said. “Langley-Quartermaine is backing the fundraiser at the center, and part of the deal was allowing Adam to assist on the committee so he could use it for college credit. We’re gonna be workin’ together all summer.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Momma asked.
“I’m pretty sure it’s a horrible idea, but I can’t do anything about it. The center’s too important to me. Ellie and I came up with the idea for the benefit, and I can’t bail now.”
“Oh, baby, I just don’t wanna see you get hurt again.”
“I don’t want either of us to get hurt again, trust me.”
Daddy grunted. “Well, maybe you two can finally put this to rest once and for all and move on with your lives.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Dinner continued with more casual conversations. Momma put the leftover chicken in a container for me to take home, and then I helped her do the dishes while Daddy went to watch the news. I washed and she dried, and we did it silently for a little while.
“I wish you didn’t still have feelings for that boy,” she said.
I nearly dropped the glass I’d been rinsing. I wanted to deny it so she’d drop the subject, but she wouldn’t. She wasn’t like that. She came from a big family that knew each other’s business, and she’d bully information out of me with the determination of an eight-second rider. “I wish I didn’t too,” I said.
“When will you see him again?”
I glanced at the rooster clock on the wall. “In about an hour. We have our first official fundraiser committee meeting at eight.”
“So you’re not stickin’ around for TV?”
“Can’t tonight.”
We all said good-bye at the door. I hugged both my parents, insanely glad to have them on my side, always.
“You be careful, son,” Daddy said. From him, it was as good as an “I love you.”
“I will.”
I had enough time to swing by the apartment before the meeting. I put the chicken in the fridge, changed out of my Walgreens polo, and managed to arrive at the center first. We were meeting in the empty office next to Lou’s. He was already gone for the night, so I hung out, letting dinner settle, while the others showed up.
Larry and Susan Bishop were as mismatched a married couple as you could find. He was a tall, burly bear of a man with tattoo sleeves on both arms and a full chin of whiskers. She was a short, chubby woman with frizzy strawberry blonde hair and a face full of freckles. Susan carried conversations with a bullhorn voice, while Larry spoke softer than a whore in church. But they’d been married close to thirty years, had fostered almost two dozen kids—many of whom they’d met through the center—and they cared about the place almost as much as Lou.
They came in first, each sipping milkshakes from McDonald’s, and laughing at some continued conversation.
“There’s the hero,” Susan said when she spotted me lurking at the folding table that served as a desk. She toddled over and swept me up into a hug. She smelled like chocolate and patchouli. “How did you manage to get Langley-Quartermaine on board so fast?”
“Luck,” I said. Adam hadn’t spilled about our connection to Lou, so I wasn’t gonna out him now.
“This is fantastic. I can’t wait to get started.”
Ellie showed up with a dry erase board from one of the classrooms, as well as a handful of notepads and pens. I hadn’t thought to do any of that. As she was setting up the board, Adam appeared in the office doorway.
He wasn’t wearing the same stuck-up suit as yesterday. A pair of crazy-worn 501’s barely hung onto his hips, and he’d draped a dark green T-shirt over his torso. He always looked good in that color. The casual clothes made him look five years younger, a lot more innocent. And
damn if my dick didn’t take notice too. He met my gaze, and his lips twitched.
Son of a bitch dressed like that on purpose.
“Can we help you?” Larry asked, his soft tone edged with irritation.
“This is Adam Langley,” Ellie said. “He’s the guy who got LQF on board with the fundraiser.”
“Langley?” Susan said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Adam said, flashing her a brilliant smile. “My father is one of the company partners.”
“You here to keep an eye on your money?”
His smile faltered.
“Adam’s joining the committee because he has theater experience,” Ellie said. “And he’s working on his business degree, so the fundraiser is something he can use for school.”
Susan perked up. “What kind of theater experience?”
“Four years of stage crew work,” Adam said. “I like being behind the scenes.”
“He also sings,” Ellie said, “and he’s agreed to perform at the benefit.”
“Does that mean I don’t have to now?” Larry asked.
“Not a chance you’re wiggling out of this, honey,” Susan said. Larry groaned. “Well then, Adam, come on in and have a seat so we can get this show on the road.”
He sat across the table from me, and it was still too close. He might as well have been sitting in my lap for the way my body knew he was near. His aftershave wafted over, something spicy and dark and wonderful that made me want to lean over and inhale deeper. My jeans got tight in the lap, but I wasn’t about to adjust myself with Larry right next to me.
As far as the meeting itself, I don’t remember a lot of what was said. I spent most of it failing to ignore Adam, who spent most of it bantering back and forth with Ellie and Susan. Between the three of them, Larry and I didn’t need to do anything except sit there and look pretty. The white board filled up with things to do, like food and drinks, auction donations, practice times for the kids and adults, and advertising.
When the topic shifted to individual performances, I started paying closer attention.
“Neither of us can sing for shit,” Larry said, indicating himself and Susan.
“So play it for laughs,” Ellie said. “Do a version of ‘Anything You Can Do.’ It’s perfect for a married couple.”
Susan snorted her milkshake, then said, “Oh, I like that idea. What about you?”
“Well, Ryan and I were tossing something around.”
I startled and shifted my full attention to her. Had we discussed something and I’d forgotten? Probably. My memory was slipperier than a glass doorknob lately.
“Back in high school, we did Rent together senior year,” Ellie continued. Across from me, Adam squirmed. “I didn’t play Mimi, but I know the part, and I suggested we do ‘Light My Candle.’ It’s a fun, sexy duet, with a little humor in it.”
“And missing drugs,” Adam said, his face perfectly blank, except for his eyes. Angry blue eyes aimed right at me, even though I was pretty damn sure Ellie and I hadn’t talked about this at all.
She’d ambushed me.
“That’s a great show,” Larry said. “Lots of good songs.”
“There are a lot of fantastic songs,” Ellie said, smirking. “I was also thinking that since this is Adam’s first time performing in front of an audience, he might feel better doing it with someone he knows, instead of alone.”
I saw it coming. I think Adam saw it coming too, and neither one of us could fucking duck the bomb getting lobbed at us.
“You guys already know ‘What You Own’ backward and forward,” she continued. “You should sing that together.”
If Larry and Susan weren’t in the room with us, I’d have laid a sharp tongue into Ellie for that, but we had an audience, and I wasn’t about to drag our personal shit out on parade for them. My insides were jelly, and the half woody I’d been battling all night died a fast death. I was too stunned to say anything—especially when Adam didn’t say hell no right off.
He was staring right at me, a question in his eyes. I dared to meet them. He relaxed a little in the shoulders, like he’d gotten an answer that quick. I hoped he could see that this part wasn’t my idea.
“Who’d you play in high school, Ryan?” Susan asked.
“Roger,” I said.
“Oh good, so you know the parts of those songs. It sounds like a great plan to me.”
“Uh-huh.”
Adam blinked hard, then looked down the table at Ellie. “I think it’s a good song choice,” he said.
You could have knocked me over with a fucking feather. For a guy who’d avoided all contact with me for three and a half years, he was sure doing everything possible to stay inside my perimeter fence.
“Excellent, so that’s three songs from the adults so far,” Ellie said. She made a note on one of the legal pads. “Lou wants to do one, and a few of the other volunteers are on board.” She nattered on about one of the theater classes she was teaching on Saturday and getting those kids to perform.
I stared at the table until the meeting broke up, stuck on a Saturday afternoon years ago…
…“I’m going to suck, and the show will be bad, and everyone is going to blame me,” Adam says, a familiar lament from the last few weeks.
It’s only a month since he got cast as Mark Cohen, and no matter how much I say he’s awesome, he doesn’t believe it. I think it’s because he’s hiding the show from his dad, because he thinks his dad will tell him acting is stupid or something. Adam’s been on stage crew since freshman year, so staying after school is no biggie. Singing and dancing instead of hammering and painting is a pretty big biggie.
We’re at my house, in my room, because my parents are in the living room watching TV. They have it turned up to block out the music I told them we’d be playing, so we could practice. Instead of practicing, though, we’re sprawled on my bed. Adam’s head is on my pillows, and I’m sitting with my back to the wall, perpendicular, so his feet are on my knees. We do this more lately, little things like sitting closer, touching for no reason. I like it. A lot. Best when Adam touches first.
“You’re gonna nail it, because you can do anything,” I say, and it’s all true. “And if you suck, then I guess I suck, and we’ll just have to suck together.” And holy hell, I don’t get the innuendo dripping off that sentence until it’s out of my mouth.
Adam doesn’t seem to notice, and I’m glad. I’m hyperaware of saying or doing stuff that’s too gay because I only came out to him a year ago, and it’s still pretty new. Not being gay, because I’ve always been gay, so I don’t feel too different now that Adam and my parents know. The awareness of it is new, and sometimes I think people can see it written on my forehead in neon marker, and it scares me.
“You know you don’t suck,” Adam says.
“Well, that’s not technically true,” I reply with waggling eyebrows before I can stop myself. I have sucked a few guys off, mostly at college parties a friend gets me into, so I can meet gay guys someplace besides Internet chat rooms, but Adam and I don’t talk about that stuff. It’s the one thing of mine that’s totally private.
Adam laughs at my joke. His leg jerks like he’s gonna kick me in the balls, so I grab his ankle and yank. He slides down the bed with a super-cute yell, arms flailing. I’d hit a growth spurt, and I work out sometimes, so I’m bigger than him now. My dick’s bigger too, and I know this because I sneaked a peek at him in the locker room last month—not my best moment, but whatever.
He surprises me by lunging up and hooking my arm. We end up wrestling around on my big bed, all arms and legs and elbows, and it’s lots of fun. We used to wrestle more, for fun, before I got taller and before the gay thing. This is the first time since then, and I love it. The headboard hits the wall hard, and I’m so alarmed—parents nearby!—I don’t see Adam move. He flips me around and pins me on my back, him sitting on my belly, holding my wrists down next to my head. We’re panting and laughing, and for one brief, beautiful second, I’m pos
itive he’s getting hard.
He breaks the spell, though, and jumps off me, pumping his fist in the air. “I pinned you! Fucking finally!”
“Took you long enough, hoss.” I roll to sit on the edge of the bed, my belly full of strange wiggles and warmth.
His cheeks are flushed, his eyes bright. “Come on, let’s practice. I want to try ‘What You Own.’”
“Okay.” I bring up the music on my iPod, and it blares out of the dock speaker.
Adam counts down the beats, then belts out, “Don’t breathe too….”
It’s our first time singing alone like this, and it’s glorious…
…“Earth to Ryan. Hello?”
Adam’s fingers snapped in front of my face, and I reared back hard enough to send my chair tipping. Larry grabbed the back before I could pitch ass over teakettle and set the chair straight. My heart was pounding a furious gallop, and everyone was staring at me like I was a loon.
“Sorry, what?” I said.
“I’m thinking he doesn’t have anything to add,” Ellie said, “since he wasn’t listening. So I guess this meeting is adjourned.”
We were the last people at the center tonight, so Larry locked up behind us when we all left. Our cars were scattered around the parking lot. Ellie made fast tracks for hers, probably so I couldn’t yell at her yet for the song ambush. She’d get her ears burned at home, so I wasn’t worried about it. Adam’s sleek car was parked one space away from my clunker. He didn’t try to make conversation, though, and I was glad. My brain was still stuck in the past, on the last real Saturday we’d spent together. Thanksgiving had been the following weekend, and everything had changed.
I stuck my key in the door lock and paused. Something wasn’t right. The car was listing a little.
“Fuck me,” I said. The front tire was flat as a flapjack. “Shit.”
“Ryan?” Adam circled the front of his car and stopped when he saw my tire. “Oh. Do you have a spare?”
“The car didn’t come with one, and I never bought one.” I kicked the offensive wheel of rubber. “Lord, I cannot afford to buy a new tire this week.”