“No,” Jah said. “Seth made me promise to only do them in the privacy of my home or when I’m with him. It’s just that when you called and invited me to lunch, it sounded like a great plan.”
I was not going to let this ruin my delicious lunch. “It seems like Seth is planning your every move, Jah.”
“He’s just concerned about me.”
“So he gets you started on drugs.” Jah was sounding like some dumb schoolgirl who wanted to please her star athlete boyfriend by fucking not only him, but his friends as well. I started to tell him this, but I could see he felt bad enough.
“I could have said no,” he said softly.
“Then why didn’t you?”
“We had a nice evening. A great dinner with wine and stuff. I just wanted to try it once.”
“Sounds like you did it more than just once. And this is the first you mentioned about the drinking.”
“It was just a little wine.”
“That’s how it gets started, Jah. Drinking and doing drugs makes it hard to stay alert—and safe. Did you use what I gave you?”
He cast his gaze down at the floor.
I angrily cut my burger down the middle and picked up half. “Do I need to take you to the AIDS ward so you can see what happens? Just because someone is famous and rich and looks healthy, doesn’t mean they’re negative, Jah!”
I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes. Ranting and raving at Jah was definitely not going to make him hear me. Hopefully, I would say a few things that would make him think and decide on his own that this relationship with Seth just wasn’t right for him.
“Jah, I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I feel like your big brother. And big brothers are protective.”
“It’s okay, B,” he said softly. “I’m glad you care.”
I nodded toward his plate, which he hadn’t seemed to notice. “Jah, you need to eat. And you need to stay focused on school and doing the things with your life you’ve always told me you want to do.”
He slowly ate a French fry. “And I will. I just got sidetracked. I promised to make you proud, B.”
“You need to do it for yourself, Jah.” I took a bite and savored the juicy, flavorful burger.
Jah did the same, chewing in the awkward silence. “I feel like I disappointed you,” he said, looking at me with those sad, bloodshot eyes. “I want you to be happy with me as well.”
“I’ll be happy,” I said, “when you get your head out of the clouds and think about what’s best for Jah, not Seth.”
TWENTY-SIX
I was watching the American Idol audition show with all the bad singers when my cell phone rang. It was Warren and I suddenly realized it had been about a week since I talked with him.
“Where you been, stranger?” I asked.
“I guess you don’t miss me.”
I closed my eyes, loving the sound of his deep voice shooting through the phone into my ear. “Why do you say that?”
“You haven’t called, Bent, so I must not be on your mind.”
I turned down the volume on the TV so I could concentrate on Warren’s sexy voice. I said, “The same could be said for you. That works both ways.”
“I’ve been real busy,” he said, launching into one of his famous cat-and-mouse conversations that sometimes frustrated the hell out of me.
“Me, too.”
“So what are you doing?” he asked seductively.
“Watching television.”
“Alone?”
“Of course,” I said.
“What you got on?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on, silly B, I know you’re not sitting up butt-ass naked watching television.”
“Since you’re not here,” I said, “you can’t know that.”
Warren countered, “You might be sitting on the sofa in your drawers with no shirt, but that’s it.”
I smiled. “You act like you know me.”
“I do, boi.”
“So when you moving here?”
“Don’t know,” Warren said with his trademark air of mystery. “My station made a very nice counteroffer.”
“So you might be staying in the Motor City.” I shifted on the couch, feeling warm and cozy in my black sweat suit.
“Yeah, I might. I would do the main sportscasts and get the Lions as my beat.”
I laughed. “And that’s a good thing? The Lions are horrible.”
Warren became playfully defensive. “What are you talking about, Bent? They had a perfect record.”
“I know. They lost every single game. I bet that locker room is full of gloom.”
“It won’t be if I’m reporting from there live every day.”
“Oh,” I said with a sultry tone, “let me get that image out of my mind because I might be naked for real in a minute.”
Warren groaned. “Now I like how that sounds. Why don’t you move back home?”
“For what?”
“For me.”
“My business is here.”
“You said it wasn’t going that well.”
“At least I got a roof over my head.”
“All that real estate your folks got up here and you think you wouldn’t have a place to stay.”
I stared blankly at the television for a minute, stunned by the irony of Warren talking to me about my parents’ houses in Detroit. All of which I lost because I fell in love with his noncommittal ass. “What if I wanted to stay with you?”
“We could talk about it.”
“That’s your way of saying, ‘not on your life.’ ”
Of course I wasn’t surprised when he snapped back, “Let’s change the subject. I really wanted to hear your voice. I was hoping you’d need a little tune-up soon and I’d be hearing from you.”
I knew it was pointless to push the topic of a real relationship. But it sure was fun to flirt. “I always need a tune-up, Warren.”
His deep voice shot through the phone so strong that I almost shivered as he asked, “So, when you coming to sit on this dick?”
“When you gonna bring that dick?”
“Soon.”
“You promise?”
“Now you know how I am with promises, boo.”
“I do.” My voice got serious and I thought of Jah in the restaurant. “I got a favor to ask you.”
“What up, baby?”
I clicked off the TV and asked, “Can you find out when the next PGC function is and where?”
Warren agreed, then asked if I’d talked with Sterling. When I said yes, but he wasn’t much help, Warren asked what I wanted to know.
“I need to get in front of Seth Sinclair.”
“What for?”
“A little business matter.”
Warren had a warning tone when he said, “Seth, I hear, is a shrewd businessman.”
I let my irritation harden my tone of voice. “Are you saying I’m not? I can handle my business, Warren.”
“I’m sure you can,” Warren said with that tone like he didn’t really want to take the conversation to a serious place. “Hey, it’s almost time for me to get ready to go on air. I was checking in with you. I’ll see what I can find out about your boi Seth.”
“Thanks, Warren. We will see each other real soon.”
“I know we will, boo. Whack that dick off and think of me.”
“You ain’t said nothing but a word, boi.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
I had just ordered a venti coffee drink at the Starbucks on Lincoln Road when I heard a familiar voice behind me.
“My, my, fancy meeting you here.” The feminine male voice was equally friendly and bitchy. “I was going to call you today.”
I turned around and discovered Gabriel standing a few feet away. He was the feminine gay guy I’d recruited, at Sterling’s request, for the party. I smiled, remembering Gabriel’s grand entrance, posing in the crowd as if he were Diana Ross.
“Gabriel, how are you doing?” I asked, wondering what dramatic
antics he was going to pull off here in Starbucks. He wore a purple sweater with a matching scarf that was wrapped around his head, like women in the 1950s who were taking a ride in a convertible and didn’t want to mess up their hair. His white-rimmed sunglasses and gold hoop earrings were causing a few folks to look up from their lattes for a double take, to figure out if he was male or female.
Even here in Miami, Gabriel was so flamboyant—especially the way he switched his slim hips in those jeans—and spoke too loud, I thought he made a spectacle of himself on purpose.
“I’m doing fine as can be,” Gabriel said, stepping to the counter beside me, “considering this fucked-up economy. A girl might have to go sell some pussy if things don’t get better soon. That’s why I was going to call you today.”
“For what?” I asked, shocked. For a moment I wondered if this was the type of conversation I wanted to have in Starbucks, so I looked down the counter to see if my drink was ready. When the clerk called out my order, I took it and invited Gabriel to join me outside on one of the cement benches.
“Let me get my carrot loaf and I’ll meet you in a few.”
“Okay.”
I walked outside and spotted an empty bench. I sat down, sipping my coffee. There was a fall-like nip in the air and the drink warmed me. After a few sips, Gabriel joined me with his pastry and what looked like orange juice in a plastic bottle.
“It’s a nice day, isn’t it?” Gabriel said, sitting a few feet from me on the bench. Why had he dusted off the chair in my office with his scarf before sitting down, but here on an outside bench, he just sat down?
“Yeah, a little chilly,” I said, gripping my warm cup.
“That’s what I love about Miami. I bet it’s cold as crap in South Carolina.”
“Is that where you’re from?”
“A little town outside of Columbia,” he said, nibbling his carrot loaf. “I don’t ever want to go back there, Bentley.”
“Small towns can be tough on gay people.”
“Hell yeah. Especially black gay people. Miami is heaven compared to that hellhole.”
I hated to admit that I’d left Detroit for the same reason: intolerance. Except rather than a whole town, it was from the one person who mattered most, my father. But I wasn’t about to bare my soul to Gabriel. I needed to keep it strictly professional.
“So, Gabriel, you said you were going to call me. What about?”
He sipped his juice, then dramatically balanced it on the upper knee of his crossed legs. “How well do you know those people from the party?” The negative way he said “those people” made me wonder if he’d gotten into some trouble.
“What do you mean?”
Gabriel inhaled as if he were about to launch into a long story. “I knew to get in contact with a couple of the gentlemen. One of them said he could help me find work, but the nigga gave me the wrong number.”
I felt relieved that he hadn’t said anything about violating the nondisclosure agreement. That would be very bad business for my agency. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
Gabriel play-swatted my arm. “Don’t look so worried, Aunt Mildred. I’m a big girl. I can handle myself. Even when I get played like a baby grand piano.”
I tried to laugh, but if something had gone wrong at the party, I needed to know whether it might affect the agency.
I asked, “Do you remember his name?”
Gabriel snickered. “I think he said Don, but I don’t think that was the truth. I should have looked through his wallet like I always do with men like that.”
I sipped my coffee. “What do you mean, men like that?”
He looked at me like “duh!” and spoke the same way. “Bentley, I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. Typical married closet case. But I’m not interested in their wives. He promised to help me while I was sucking his dick, but I guess he forgot once he and his friend came.”
I must have winced a frown because Gabriel got angry and told me not to pass judgments against him.
“I’m sorry,” I said. He was right about what I was thinking.
Gabriel snatched off his sunglasses and glared at me. “I don’t know why guys like you think you can treat us fem guys any way you damn please. I’m just as good as you.”
I tilted my chin upward. There was no way I was going to justify that b.s. with a response. “I’m sorry, Gabriel. I’m just not used to talking to someone I barely know about such intimate matters.”
The truth was I felt sorry for Gabriel because he was so bitter. It was like he had a point to prove to the world, but it backfired because he was so negative and abrasive.
“You know me,” he accused. “That’s why you picked me for the party. You knew I’d deliver what the party guests were looking for, more than those so-called straight bois you booked. Let’s not fool ourselves; your clients were looking for sex. I knew that when I took the job.”
I was ready to stand up and leave. “That’s not why I picked you, Gabriel. And I was not asked to provide guys for sex. I’m not running an escort agency.”
Gabriel twisted his hand in the air, dismissing what I said. “Modeling agency, escort service. Trust me, they’re the same thing.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” I said, knowing that Gabriel loved to get under my skin. He was, but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing it. “I didn’t have anything to do with what happened after you left the party.”
Gabriel nibbled his pastry. “What about that young kid? Did Seth Sinclair get him a job?”
“I don’t discuss my friends’ business,” I said flatly. Little did I know my response would be like striking a match for Gabriel to explode at me.
“Oh!” he spat. “So, he’s your friend and I’m not because I wear my clothes too tight, maybe switch too much for your liking? Yes, I’m a sissy and I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks.” Two teenaged girls walking past stared at him like he was a lunatic. “I’ve been a sissy since day one and no one, and I mean no one, is going to change me. Do you understand that, Bentley Dean?”
I didn’t know how our little midday snack had turned so confrontational. Why was Gabriel so angry? I was stunned and just stared at him.
“You don’t have to answer me,” Gabriel said, “but I’m going to find that bastard and he’s going to do what he promised me. If he doesn’t, I will find Mister Seth Sinclair and blow his little cover unless he helps.”
I shook my head and spoke calmly, even though his threat set off a panic inside me. “You can’t do that, Gabriel. You signed a nondisclosure.”
“Do you think that little piece of paper means anything to me? I need some money or a job. They can pick.”
Where was this leading? Did I need to alert Sterling Sneed about this? Maybe not. If Gabriel was so hard up for money, surely he didn’t have money to spend on a plane ticket to California.
“Why are you so bitter, Gabriel?”
He stood and glared down at me. “I’m a bitter bitch because of people like you. Self-hating gay men who get mad at people like me because I accept who I am.”
He was so wrong. But how could I convince him? I stood and faced him. “Has it ever occurred to you that I’m happy with who I am? There is no typical gay man and just because I don’t act like you, doesn’t mean I hate myself. That’s crazy. I’m sorry people have disappointed you, but I think you’re directing your anger in the wrong direction.”
Gabriel crossed his arms so hard he huffed. He glared at the street, where luxury cars and beautiful people were streaming past. “Those men think because they have a little money and power, that they can treat me just like yesterday’s garbage. Men like that make me sicker than people like you, Bentley.”
I stiffened. This guy was really whack. Maybe he was capable of doing something crazy regarding Seth and whoever lied to him after the party. “Gabriel, what do you mean, people like me?”
He looked me up and down. “Not only are you one of those self-hating gay
men who most likely was born with a silver spoon in your mouth, but you think you’re better than anyone.”
I shook my head. I wanted to just walk away, but I was too worried that Gabriel could become a problem with Sterling and Seth. And I didn’t need anything interfering with the mess I was already trying to clean up with Jah.
“Wrong again, Gabriel. But I want to help you. Do you want me to see if I can get you some more modeling jobs?”
He looked at me like I was stupid. “Like the party or legit stuff?”
“The party was a legit job.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
I looked at my watch and told Gabriel to reconsider my offer and give me a call when he did.
I was about to step away when he asked, “What are you going to do when they ruin your little friend?”
“What are you talking about?”
He shook his head. “’Cause you know it’s going to happen. Men like Seth Sinclair have young bois like that for breakfast. So if you really are a friend, you’d warn him. But you only see that kid as a piece of meat. You modeling people are the new, modern-day pimps.”
My fingers balled into a fist, crushing my coffee cup. I threw it in a nearby garbage can and started walking toward my office.
Behind me, Gabriel yelled, “You haven’t heard the last of me, Bentley Dean!”
TWENTY-EIGHT
Jah and I were in my kitchen, opening a just-delivered box of pizza, when his face lit up with excitement.
“B, I got some news for you, and I hope you’re happy for me,” Jah said as he pulled a piece of pizza from the box. I just looked at him as he picked the tiny mushrooms from the cheese. I always forgot that he didn’t share my taste for mushrooms.
“Jah, why do I think this has something to do with Seth Sinclair?”
He was about to bite into the slice when he smiled. “It does.”
“I’m listening.”
He put the pizza down. “I’m moving to Hollywood!” he announced. “Seth has gotten me a condo. He said he wants to be able to see me whenever he wants.”
I showed no reaction. “He’s been doing that since he met you, Jah. What about school?”
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