Playing It Out Straight

by Andrew McQuinn

  “Sure,” he said

  I threw my things in the back. None of them seemed to realize I was there. I watched in the passenger mirror as he signed a few autographs. I hated watching him sign autographs, he always seemed so fake doing it. I knew it was something he didn’t like to do very often, especially around me. He signed a few more then said his good-byes.

  “Sorry about that,” Scotty apologized.

  “It’s okay.”

  We sped off. I noticed instantly he was avoiding eye contact with me. It bothered me there was some tension between us. He avoided the highway and drove toward the shore. Pain sank into my heart when he didn’t offer his hand to hold.

  “Everything okay?” I finally asked.

  “Yeah.”

  He sounded distant and for the first time in our relationship I had a feeling he didn’t want to talk to me. He still didn’t offer me his hand. I looked out the window and watched as we reached a fork in the road. He turned off the main road and began to drive down a dirt road; it appeared to have not been traveled on in quite some time. We reached a clearing between fields of long grass and wildflowers.

  “The florist wouldn’t have had enough wildflowers to send you,” Scotty declared.

  I looked at him. It was the cutest thing he’d ever told me. Scotty looked straight ahead, sunlight nearly blinding him. He inched his way up a hill and came to a stop in a small flat parking area and turned the engine off. I heard him sigh, and then his seat belt clicked and snapped up. We looked at each other.

  “Sorry,” he said with sincerity.

  “About?”

  “My attitude today. I guess I was a little jealous hearing you got a bunch of things today from another person. I’m embarrassed with myself and feel like crap for taking it out on you.”

  I smiled and took his hand. “It’s okay, where are we?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “Remember where I took you to learn to surf?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Remember the cliffs?”

  “Yes, how could I forget them. They almost killed me,” I joked.

  He chuckled. “Well, that’s where we are. On top of the cliffs, it’s actually a popular overlook for the locals.”

  Scotty let go of my hand, put on the parking brake, and got out.

  He opened the trunk and I got out and leaned against the hood, watching the sun make its slow decent toward the horizon. We probably had an hour and a half left of daylight. Scotty walked up beside me with a couple blankets and a basket. He took my hand and led me up to the top of the hill. We set up the picnic then talked and ate the dinner Scotty made us. It was the best peanut butter and jelly sandwich, potato chips, carrot and celery sticks, apples, and a bottle of Yoo-hoo I ever had.

  “Very good meal,” I said.

  “It’s kind of hard to ruin peanut butter and jelly.”

  “It’s quite easy actually. Too much peanut butter and the sandwich sticks to the roof of your mouth, too much jelly and your bread gets soggy.”

  “You’re a dork.”

  “Thank you.”

  I leaned against Scotty shoulder, his arm around me, and we watched the sun disappear behind the horizon in silence. Twilight hit and we were still lying in each other’s arms while more and more stars came out to play. This moment couldn’t get any better. I wondered how long we’d been here for, not that it bothered me. I rather enjoyed it. Periwinkle, twilight blue, and muted yellow painted the night sky. In what seemed like seconds, the sun was completely gone and replaced with a milky blue starry night. I noticed Scotty send a text and then propped himself up under me, I followed his lead.

  “Ready?”

  “For what?”

  Suddenly I saw a bright flare shoot up in front of us and explode. My jaw dropped as four more followed it and a small firework show got under way.

  “What, wow, where, why,” I muttered.

  “Don’t forget when.”

  I playfully nudged him. “Don’t tease. How did you pull this off?”

  “My cousin’s a pyrotechnic. I asked if he’d be able to set up a small show for us. We bought the fireworks in Mexico while on vacation two years ago. I never had any use for mine until now. This is how I do Valentine’s Day on a dime.”

  I felt his hand brush under my shirt and up my stomach. We made out while the fireworks display picked up. Before we got too carried away, we stopped and continued to watch the fireworks until they ended. Scotty walked over to the edge and looked down.

  “Thank you,” Scotty hollered.

  “You’re welcome, dude,” his cousin shouted.

  Valentine’s Day on a budget. I helped him pick up our belongings and we went back to his car. We left and headed downtown toward West Hollywood. Scotty and I walked down the street holding hands until we spotted a Pinkberry and each ordered a strawberry frozen yogurt then continued traversing the street.

  “Want to go to the arcade?” Scotty asked tossing the remnants of his yogurt away.

  “Sure.”

  After I beat him in three rounds of Dance-Dance Revolution, Scotty called it quits. When we got back outside, he took hold of my hand. Normally I would have hesitated, but tonight I didn’t care who saw, even if it were my father. This was me, plain and simple. For the next hour we walked along the streets and talked. Scotty showed me the Hollywood Walk of Fame; it was littered with small stars each designated to someone in the entertainment industry.

  “I wish I had one,” Scotty said.

  Scotty’s eyes lit up as we stood somewhere between Charles M. Schulz and Julie Andrews. I saw the reflection of lights flashing against the black stone; I looked up and saw we were outside the Chinese Theatre. I admired Scotty’s lovely features. His wide, expressive eyes, crooked smile, the bridge of his nose, and the adorable size of his ears. His face turned orange and yellow from the marquee above. He smiled at me; I smiled back and standing on my tippy toes, I leaned up and gently kissed him. Scotty’s hand lightly touched my cheek as he breathed a little of me in, and I did the same of him.

  I owed Scotty so much, had we never met I might still be in the closet. Thanks to him I saw all my reasons to come out, and once I decided to, there was nothing to hold me back. I was happy, truly happy with life. The final hurdle to my coming out story was to tell my parents. If you had asked me a few months ago, I would have said this was the scariest thing to do. Telling my parents could backfire, any number of things could happen. I could be left feeling scared and broken, but I had Scotty at my side and a level of pride and self-admiration no amount of hurt and rejection could take away. My sister was right, had I skipped the journey to get here and now, I wouldn’t feel the same. It’s in the journey that I discovered so much about myself.

  It was time I started living it out gay.

  Turn the page for a sneak peek at the follow-up to Playing It Out Straight…Living it out Gay. Coming 2021

  They say when you die your life flashes before your eyes.

  I’m not saying coming out is on par with dying—it’s not—but I can say with confidence during those milliseconds of fear, anxiety, and pride; coming out can jump start your heart. Revive you. Make you feel whole again. For me, the hardest person to come out to was myself, a close second would be my father. To this day I still recall the moment I came out to my parents, and how a simple confession changed my life forever.

  After

  CHAPTER ONE: PRIDE AND JOY

  I was so deliriously in love with the moment.

  Scotty’s hand in mine. Our lips touching. Tourists and locals around us. The innocence in his eyes as he stared at me and said he loved me. Abundance of pride and joy, without the nasty fear anchoring me down. Scotty and I continued our walk down the Hollywood Walk of Fame, enjoying our Valentine’s evening together. We stole kisses before slipping into souvenir shops. Scotty bought me a baseball cap, and I got him a hoodie. By the time we left Hollywood & Highland, the sun had set, and the lights twinkled against the black sidewalk and bron
ze stars. I pulled Scotty close and we shared kiss.

  “Oh my god, Scotty Valentin!”

  Instantly we parted ways.

  “Sorry to bother you, I love your work. You’re one of my favorite actors of our generation, gah!” a young woman shrieked and walked up beside us. She looked to be in her mid-twenties and wore a sash announcing she was a bride to be. She was tipsy-but held her own. “Please, can I get a picture with you?”

  “Is it okay?” Scotty asked me.

  “Yeah, of course.”

  Her friends crowded around us and took photos from in all directions. I knew it was only a handful of people, but in the moment, it felt overwhelming. Scotty grabbed my hand and pulled me close. He rubbed his free hand on my shoulder. It failed to relax me but took the edge off a bit. I felt his breath in my ear as he whispered.

  “I’m sorry,” he quietly said to me.

  “Who’s this?” someone asked.

  “Is this your boyfriend?” bride-to-be asked.

  He leaned in and whispered into my ear again, “Want to go?” I nodded my head. “Sorry ladies, but we have to get going.”

  Scotty squeeze my hand tight. My heart pounded the entire walk back to the car.

  “Those were just tourists, right?” I asked as we approached his car.

  “Yeah. I mean for the most part paparazzi know my schedule. It comes with the job. Remember I gave Ethan strict orders that you were off limits. He knows you aren’t out. He wouldn’t do that to you. He’s been my agent for years, I trust him.”

  We’d had this discussion before. Sometimes fear has a funny way of magnifying how you perceive things. For the most part, we had lucked out and been left alone.

  “Okay, good,” I said as I got in the car.

  “Usually when it’s candid shots out in the wild, paparazzi have a way of taking your picture without you knowing, unless you’re in the elite. You know, really famous like Angelina Jolie or Lady Gaga famous, then they seem to know your daily planner better than you do.”

  As much fun as I had tonight, I was ready to go home. Scotty drove me home. We parked around the corner. He leaned over the center console and gave me a quick kiss before I got out of the car. I watched him drive away then walked to my place. What if one of those photographers tonight was more than just a tourist? It would be a great way for a paparazzo to blend in. I stopped on the front stoop under a pool of light and stared at the night sky.

  I thought back over the past few months. All the nights, days, weeks I went without hearing from Scotty. Since we started dating, he had been offered five projects. While he turned down two movies, he did pick up a seven-episode spot on a television series. Then there was the film based off my father’s book. Not even released and already it was on the radar for next year’s awards season. What was next? Was he on track to become one of the elites?

  I pondered this for a moment. If this were true, I would sure find out tomorrow. I brushed it off and walked inside. Wildflowers were on display by the entrance. I closed the door and leaned against it. Down the hall I heard my parents talking. They sat at the kitchen table drinking a glass of wine when I walked in. Mom was the first to look up, she wore a large grin.

  “Hey, where were you?” she asked.

  “I…” I paused. “I had a date.” I grinned.

  My mom sat up and smiled again. “With whom?”

  Before I could answer my father chimed in.

  “I heard you were quite popular today and had some secret admirers,” he said.

  “Yeah, I think some guy in my class likes me.” I laughed and noticed my father cringed a little when I gave a gender to the admirer. My mom on the other hand smiled. “My date went well, but I’m tired,” I lied and yawned to play it up.

  “Well I’m glad you had a good evening son,” my father said.

  “Yeah, night.”

  “Night,” they said in unison.

  § § § §

  I awoke the Saturday after Valentine’s Day with the thoughts from that night still in the back of my mind.

  I breathed a sigh of relief when the news—aka magazines, E! network, and Inside Edition—didn’t report Scotty and I were dating. Must have been some nosey tourists. I grabbed my phone and ventured over to the balcony. The sun was shining, and birds were chirping. It truly was a lovely day. I smiled and ran downstairs to get some breakfast. The scent of chocolate enticed me toward the kitchen. Mom made chocolate chip pancakes, my favorite. My mouth water the stronger the smell became. By the time I reached the kitchen I was already humming some song.

  “Someone sounds happy,” Mom said.

  She slid two fresh pancakes onto a plate and handed it to me. I ventured to the breakfast bar where the bacon and eggs were. I sat down next to Amy and poured maple syrup over my pancakes.

  “What can I say, today feels like a good day.”

  I was savoring my first bite of sweet chocolatey goodness when I felt my phone vibrate against my thigh. Scotty was calling.

  “Hello?” I cheerfully answered.

  I sipped on orange juice while I waited for Scotty to reply.

  “Kyle, we have a problem,” Scotty nervously said.

  In the reflection of my glass, I saw the color leave my face and I felt nauseous. My smile slowly lowered to a thin line. Amy looked at me and mouthed the words ‘everything okay’. I pressed my lips together cause otherwise they’d be trembling and shook my head. Scotty didn’t have to say anything for me to know what the problem was. It felt like gravel was caught in my throat and all my blood was replaced with liquid gold. I somehow swallowed and managed to slide off the bar stool and walked toward the hall when my mom stopped me. She must have seen how my face was now three shades lighter.

  “Everything alright?” she asked.

  I put my hand over the receiver and looked at her. “Yeah, I’ll be right back,” I said, keeping my voice calm as I walked down the hall. “What is it?” I asked Scotty.

  Fearing his answer, I closed my eyes.

  “We’ve made cover story.”

  FUUUUUCK!

  “Cover of what?” I gulped.

  “OK, People, and US.”

  My knees went weak. I caught myself on the table in the hallway and practically screamed, “What!”

  “Kyle what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, Mom. How do you know?”

  “Ethan called this morning to warn me. They’ve been keeping an extra eye on me for a few months now and…”

  Whatever Scotty was saying I wasn’t hearing it. I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. I leaned against the wall and watched the hallway stretch on. Suddenly the bright sunny day seemed intrusive. I listened to him talk. I breathed harder but managed to control myself before I hyperventilated. I thought back to what magazines he said.

  “What magazines did you say again?” I asked

  “OK, People, and US, why?” Scotty said

  You’ve got to be kidding me.

  “Shit, shit, fuck.”

  “Honey, what’s wrong?”

  “My mom has a subscription to People magazine, that’s what’s wrong,” I sharply whispered.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  There are so many people to thank, and I want to list them all off before they start lowering my microphone and play my walk off music.

  Kris Jacen, you really came to my rescue. It’s because of your kind heart and the desire to see a newbie like myself shine that you became my editor. I faced several setbacks along the way. As they say it’s in the eleventh hour when things really get interesting. My first (as I write this I am home, my cat laying at my feet, the smooth sounds of Ella Fitzgerald serenading me, and a few months before publishing) of many eleventh hour moments happened when you stepped in and edited my manuscript into the novel it is. Thank you!

  Shannon Perrine the cover is hard to nail down. But you did it. Thank you for your patience working with a first-time author on his journey through the madness of self-publishing.

  To A
my Dufera, you’re a great assistant. Without you I doubt I would have reached as many people. Hope you’re ready for the next one!

  To my high school creative writing teacher Ms. Cullens, thank you for helping me discover my passion for writing. Devon Wood, my creative writing teacher in college. This book, and its follow-up got started in your creative writing class as my final project. I still remember when you pulled me aside and said I should consider extending it. Thanks to your advice, we have this book.

  To my betas Kris Nellis, Miski Harris, Julie Westmore, and Stacey Lippincott. You four have offered so much input over the years. Kris, you’ve been an avid cheerleader, I’ll never forget your enthusiasm for everything I share. Miski, if I had a dollar for every time you said you’d come to Maine and strangle me if I didn’t get this book published, or had to talk me down from the exact same anxieties all writers experience, I’d be independently wealthy. You help me keep a level head. Julie, I love your attention to detail, you pick up things most don’t. Stacey, it was a blast meeting you in Vegas, we’ll always have the Peppermill. I look forward to working will all of you soon!

  To my Allies. We all come from different walks of life, and you’ve all showed me that didn’t matter. I’m grateful for the love and support every one of you have offered over the years. You’ve all cheered me on and helped keep me focused.

  Lastly, as I hear the music playing and know the microphone is about to be lowered, I want to thank those I’ve met over the who didn’t believe in me. I was told at a young age I’d never read or write past a seventh-grade level. Plenty have said I’d never become a writer. I’m one stubborn guy. It’s also my need to prove you wrong, this book exists.

  Look where I am now.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Andrew McQuinn got his degree in video production from the New England School of Communications. After graduating he spent six years in Las Vegas, working as a stagehand. He now lives in his hometown on Mount Desert Island where he works in health care industry as a janitor. When he’s not writing, Andrew is spending time with his feline fur baby Marty or Smarty Marty, and sometimes Sir Martin if he’s feeling extra dignified. Playing it out Straight is his debut novel.