by Andrew Grey
“No. I’m going to teach this faggot dweeb a lesson.” Pat growled and lurched forward.
Doug tried one more time to stop him, but I was ready. Pat took a swing at me, and I easily dodged it, going into a clean stance before sweeping his legs out from under him. He collapsed to the floor with a dull thud and started to get up.
“The police are on their way,” Sally said from next to me. “Pat, stay where you are or you’re only going to make matters worse for yourself.”
Pat rolled over, got up on all fours, and then stood. “Bullshit. That dweeb got lucky.” He came at me again, and this time I punched him right in the nose. It took a fraction of a second, and the crack reverberated off the walls as his nose broke. Blood gushed, and as he grabbed it, I knocked his feet from under him again. He fell back on his ass and then onto his back, yowling like an idiot. At least this time he stayed down.
Doug passed Pat some napkins, and he pressed them to his face. “He hit me. You all saw it.”
Sally stalked up to Pat. “He was defending himself, you idiot. Now stay right the hell where you are and don’t move.”
Damn. I never wanted to come up against her in court… or in the arena. Sally was impressive, and she had that voice thing down pat. I was already wondering if I could get her to come in to teach my students how to get that tone. It was awesome.
The police arrived five minutes later. Sally took charge, explaining what happened. They spoke to me as well before taking Pat away. They promised he’d get looked at by a doctor, and just like that, the excitement was over.
“Well, that was something,” Lori said, this time managing not to squeal the microphone. “The bar is still open and the night is young. So bring up the music and lower the lights.” She smiled as the music started again, the lights dimming as the evening slowly got back on track.
I said to hell with it and got a drink, standing behind Sally in line. I needed something strong. I downed the shot in a gulp and then switched to water before walking back to the table with her.
“He didn’t hit you, did he?” Clay asked.
“No. He never came close.” I never liked hurting someone. “I’m fine. Just trying to let this go.” Maybe it was best if I left and went on home. This evening hadn’t been what I was expecting at all.
“Have you had to fight a lot?” Clay asked as he sat next to me.
I shook my head. “Other than the competition arena or working with actors to choreograph fights for films, no. I don’t actually fight anyone. It isn’t what I’m about.”
“I bet you could have really kicked his ass,” Doug said as he sat on the other side of Clay. “As smooth as you were, you have to know a lot more than you used to.”
Clay turned to Doug. “He’s a karate master. He has a number of studios and works on movies. So yeah, I’d say he was fairly restrained.”
Doug nodded. “That’s pretty cool. Pat’s lucky that you have control.”
That was part of what was bothering me. I had relied on my training and my own teachings during the incident, but damn it all, I had wanted to beat the crap out of him. “I train a lot, and that’s what I teach as well as practice.” Still, that didn’t mean I hadn’t wanted to teach the loudmouthed jackass a lesson. Pat had made my high school life hell.
Clay leaned closer. “You wanted to kick his ass and didn’t.”
I nodded. “But that’s what I teach. He was drunk, and all I did was protect myself and the others around me. I wasn’t going to go any further.” No matter how much I might have wanted to.
Clay put his arm around my shoulder, smiling as though he realized just what kind of guy I truly was. Or maybe just that I was for real.
Doug’s gaze seemed glued to the exchange. “Are you really gay?” he asked Clay. “It’s cool if you are. It’s just a bit of a shock. We’ve been friends for a long time, and you never told me.”
Clay hesitated, and his arm slipped from my shoulders. I knew just how hard this was for him. “Yes. I never had much reason to go around making an announcement. This town is pretty small, and it’s conservative. Mom knows, but for a lot of reasons, including the business and Santo, I pretty much kept it to myself.” Clay shrugged. “That’s doesn’t mean I’m a saint or something.”
Doug put his hands up. “Dude, you can be as gay as you want. That’s cool.” He slapped Clay on the back. “But I don’t want to hear about it.” He got up and almost immediately found one of the ladies to dance with as if to emphasize his point.
Clay chuckled. “This has definitely been one for the books.”
“Why come out now?” I asked. I had to know.
Clay huffed slightly. “Why not? It’s been long enough. In school I was the guy everyone expected me to be. I was the football player who dated and then married the cheerleader. Then I went to New York and saw all these people who were what I wanted to be, but I was married and I wasn’t going to cheat on her. Then Santo came along and Dad died. I guess I let what everyone else needed become more important than what I wanted.”
“So this is your coming out day?” I asked. “You picked one hell of a time for it.”
Clay chuckled. “I read somewhere that you first tell yourself that you’re gay, then you tell your family, then friends, and the world. Eventually you run out of people to come out to. I think that just happened.” Clay threw back his head and laughed. “Not that it matters. The important people already knew.”
“And Bridget?” I asked.
“I already told her. When she left, she told me I was a lousy husband, and I guess I was. I didn’t spend enough time with her, and she deserved more.”
I looked up as Bridget approached the table, standing behind Clay. “You okay?” She gently patted his shoulder.
“I will be.” Clay forced a smile before turning toward her. “Are you?” He winked.
She flicked her head back to reposition her long, flowing hair. “Sure. Greg has to go on a business trip in a few months, and I’m going with him. An entire month in Australia. It should be amazing.” She flashed her perfect smile. “I’m looking forward to it.” She patted Clay’s shoulder once again and then leaned forward. “You really are okay?”
“Yes,” he said seriously. “I really am. It’s good to have that off my shoulders. You don’t need to worry about me or Santo. We’ll be fine while you’re gone. Just send him some voice messages so he knows what you’re doing. It will mean so much to him.” Clay actually smiled broadly. “And record some interesting sounds for him.”
“Of course I will.” She leaned down, hugged Clay quickly, and then rejoined her husband as Doug returned to the table.
“What’s got you so happy?” I asked at the ear-to-ear grin that split Clay’s face.
“Yeah. What gives?” Doug asked.
Sally rolled her eyes from across the table. “It means that whatever claim Bridget might have over custody of Santo is moot. She’s going to be gone for a month, and she doesn’t get to put being a mother on hold while she gallivants halfway around the world. No judge is ever going to alter the custody arrangement under those circumstances. Tell your lawyer about it, and they’ll be able to get the entire case dismissed.”
“That’s just it. I don’t have to. That was Bridget’s way of saying that the issue is over. I already raised all her travel as an issue that isn’t fair to Santo.” Clay drained the last of his water. “She’s chosen travel and her lifestyle over Santo. Which in a way is kind of sad, but she doesn’t really want to be a parent. She wants the life Greg can give her, and there’s nothing wrong with that as far as I’m concerned. It means I get to keep my son, which is what I wanted most in the world.”
“Good for you,” Sally said, checking the time. “I need to call it an evening.” She put her phone into her purse and came around the table. I stood, and she hugged me and then Clay. “You all take care, and I’ll see you.” She waved and left the room.
I was beginning to think she had the right idea. There had been
enough drama for one night. “I think I’m going to do the same. I have a full day tomorrow, and then I head west for a while.” I shook hands with Doug, and then Clay and I walked out together.
Sometimes it was hard not to try to imagine what could have been. If either Clay or I had had the guts to talk to the other in high school, even if we’d just let the other know he wasn’t alone, things might have been different for him… and for me. Granted, if they had, I might not be the person I was today, and if Clay had accepted who he was back then, it was likely he wouldn’t have his son. So maybe things had worked out the way they were supposed to, even if the path had been more difficult.
“It was good to see you,” I told Clay as we stepped outside. “And thank you for the dance. It was like a high school dream come true.” I smiled and was about to turn away.
“Do you want to get a coffee or something? I don’t know about you, but I could use more food. It was fine, but….” Clay bit his lower lip, and damn it all if I didn’t want to kiss it.
“Let’s. But I don’t know where anything good is around here any longer.” The town had changed a lot in the last fifteen years, and not for the better. Collapse and decay seemed to be the words of the day, and had been for a while.
“I know a place,” Clay said.
“Then if you direct, I’ll drive,” I told him, and Clay flashed another of his smiles.
“I was hoping to get a chance in that sweet ride of yours.”
We walked across the grass, the summer air hanging heavily around us. I unlocked the car and we got in, then pulled out of the lot and took a left. I was surprised that we weren’t heading for the area of the old main street, but I followed Clay’s directions. After a while, he had me turn into a driveway and go up the hill to a gem of late seventies architecture.
“What kind of coffeehouse is this?” I asked as we reached the top.
“My mom’s.” Clay grinned, and I groaned. “No one makes coffee like she does, and I know Santo is going to want to talk to me before going to bed. It’s what we always do, and routine is very important to him.”
Chapter 4
CLAY’S MOTHER—I could handle this.
I got out of the car and followed Clay inside.
“Daddy!” a boy about eight or nine said as he approached.
“Hey, buddy. You were supposed to be in bed before now.” Clay folded his arms around Santo as soon as he got close enough. “I missed you.”
“Did you have fun?” Santo asked, lifting his head, tilting it in my direction. “Who’s with you?”
Clay chuckled. “This is Kevin. He and I went to high school together, and he’s an old friend of mine.”
Santo stepped back from his father and put out his hand.
I took it gently and shook. “It’s nice to meet you. Your dad has told me a lot about you.” It sounded cliché to my ears, but what the hell else could I say?
“And this is my mother, Jill,” Clay added, and I shook her hand as well.
“It’s nice to meet you.” She nodded and gently touched Santo’s shoulder, probably to get his attention. “It’s past time for you to be in bed.”
“Gramma,” Santo said gently, taking her hand. “I want to stay up with Daddy and Mr. Kevin.” He leaned close to his grandmother. “He smells nice. I like him.”
I cleared my throat nervously, and Santo let go of Jill’s hand and stepped in front of me.
“People think it’s weird, but I can smell if they are good or not. Bad people smell yucky.”
Clay scooped Santo into his arms, to his son’s giggling delight. “Oh, they do, huh?” He tickled him, filling the room with laughter, both his son’s and his own. “Kevin and I are just going to have coffee. So go to bed, and Gramma will read you a story.” He set Kevin back down. “You’re right next to the chairs at the kitchen island.”
Santo reached out to touch the chair, orienting himself. “Good night, Daddy. Night, Mr. Kevin.” He smiled, and Jill followed him down the hallway.
“Wow,” I said under my breath. “He’s something else.”
“Yeah. He doesn’t let anything stop him.” Clay walked around the island, opened a cupboard, and pulled out two mugs, which he filled from the pot on the counter. He passed one to me, and I settled on one of the stools. I sipped the brew and set the mug back down.
“It was great seeing you tonight,” I said, trying to make conversation.
Clay nodded. “Yes, it was.” He watched me over his mug as he drank. “Look, it’s been a long time since I did anything like this, and I’m probably not as smooth as I could be. I know you’re traveling soon, but will you call me when you get back? I’d like to see you again.” He set his mug down and reached across the island to take my hand. “I should have had the guts to do this back in school, but will you go out with me?”
“I’d like that.” I sipped some more coffee, sighing. “I had a huge crush on you in school. I used to watch you all the time, and I spent more time daydreaming about you than I should have.” God, it was embarrassing to think about now.
Clay colored. “I was completely clueless in high school. I can admit that now. I thought I had all the answers. Of course, I didn’t know squat about the world or myself.” He set down his mug. “You know, the older I got, the smarter my parents got. I wonder how that happened?” He smirked, and I chuckled.
“I really should go. It’s getting late, and I have a class in the morning.” I set the mug on the counter. “Let me take you back to get your car.”
The cooling night air felt good as it blew around us on the drive back, both of us quiet. Clay took my hand, threading his fingers with mine, and I loved the heat, the slide of his skin against mine. I squeezed his fingers and continued the short drive back to the school, where I pulled in and parked next to Clay’s car. The party seemed to be winding down, with only a few cars left in the lot.
“I’ll call you when I know exactly when I’ll be back in town. Probably in two weeks.” I never minded the travel, but now I wished I wasn’t committed so I could stay here and see where things went with Clay.
“Good. I’ll look forward to it.” Clay didn’t release my hand, but instead leaned over the console. I turned as he drew closer, our lips touched, tentatively at first, and then I pressed in, wanting… no, needing from my core to know how Clay tasted and to impress that memory, to store it until I could see him again.
When he broke away, Clay sat back in his seat. “Wow,” he whispered under his breath.
“Yeah.” I smiled and leaned across this time, kissing him again because once was just not going to do. Energy spiked through me and I couldn’t get enough. He tasted like heaven, and one tidbit made me want so much more. Within a few seconds, he and I were making out like teenagers, until voices drifted into the night. We pulled back. I was a little shocked, but we ended up laughing softly. I squeezed Clay’s hand, and he opened his door.
I got out my wallet and handed him a card. “This number will reach me directly.” I pressed it into Clay’s palm, enjoying one last feel of him before he backed away. Clay put the card in his wallet, got out of the BMW, and after a final smile, turned toward his car.
I sat still, watching him go, before starting the engine once more and slowly pulling out of the parking lot, my future suddenly filled with possibilities I hadn’t given much credence to a few hours earlier. Out of reflex I turned on the radio and found an oldies station.
Peaches & Herb crooned “Reunited” out of the speakers.
“Damn right it feels good!” I smiled and headed for the highway and home.
ANDREW GREY is the author of nearly 100 works of Contemporary Gay Romantic fiction. After twenty-seven years in corporate America, he has now settled down in Central Pennsylvania with his husband, Dominic, and his laptop. An interesting ménage. Andrew grew up in western Michigan with a father who loved to tell stories and a mother who loved to read them. Since then he has lived throughout the country and traveled throughout the worl
d. He is a recipient of the RWA Centennial Award, has a master’s degree from the University of Wisconsin–Milwaukee, and now writes full-time. Andrew’s hobbies include collecting antiques, gardening, and leaving his dirty dishes anywhere but in the sink (particularly when writing). He considers himself blessed with an accepting family, fantastic friends, and the world’s most supportive and loving partner. Andrew currently lives in beautiful, historic Carlisle, Pennsylvania.
Email: [email protected]
Website: www.andrewgreybooks.com
By Andrew Grey
Accompanied by a Waltz
All for You
Between Loathing and Love
Borrowed Heart
Buried Passions
Chasing the Dream
Crossing Divides
Dominant Chord
Dutch Treat
Eastern Cowboy
In Search of a Story
New Tricks
Noble Intentions
North to the Future
One Good Deed
The Playmaker
Reunited
Running to You
Saving Faithless Creek
Shared Revelations
Three Fates
To Have, Hold, and Let Go
Turning the Page
Whipped Cream
ART
Legal Artistry • Artistic Appeal
Artistic Pursuits • Legal Tender
BOTTLED UP
The Best Revenge • Bottled Up
Uncorked • An Unexpected Vintage
BRONCO’S BOYS
Inside Out • Upside Down
Backward • Round and Round