Dreamspinner Press Year Seven Greatest Hits

by K. C. Wells

  “You look sexy,” he said once his lips were painted to his satisfaction. “I just need to find my boots and I’ll be ready to go!”

  “Whoa. Wait a sec. I look like I’m attending a conservative gallery opening, and you appear to be going clubbing. I’m a little at a loss here, Aaron.” That was an understatement. I had a bad feeling I was being set up again. Aaron, I suspected, had set a scene into play, and I was supposed to figure it out. Fuck it. I didn’t mind a little mystery, but he had me unnerved again. Was he attending the gallery show and then ditching me to go clubbing? I didn’t think so, because he asked about dinner. I was in over my head, way over my head.

  “Don’t be silly. You look delicious.” I raised my eyebrows at that, and he flashed one of those beautiful smiles at me. I forgot for a second what we were talking about and remembered the last time I’d been here. He must have noticed something akin to desire in my expression, because he looked flustered and quickly busied himself trying to find his boots.

  “Are we going to a gallery? I’m confused.” My focus returned when he left the room to find socks back in his bedroom.

  “Of course. I told Richie I’d go, so I must. What’s the matter? Don’t you want to?”

  “Yes. I’m… I guess I’m a little confused about how differently we’re dressed. That’s all.” It sounded stupid said aloud, but hey, it was true.

  “People dress differently all the time, Matt. Self-expression, right? You don’t like my outfit?”

  He didn’t seem overly concerned with my answer, which I guessed was the point. We were different. He made a point of telling me to dress how he assumed I would for an art gallery function (correctly, I admitted to myself) and then dressed as he chose. We were two completely different people, and we looked it. I didn’t seem like the kind of guy Aaron would ever look twice at, and he probably assumed he wasn’t someone I would be attracted to.

  The funny thing was that, in theory, he was correct, but the fact was that I was more intrigued than ever. What else was in store for me tonight? I had a feeling I was going to get a lesson in why we shouldn’t try to be more than friends. I smiled at the thought, but felt more determined than ever to change his mind.

  Aaron declared himself ready, although when he told me we could walk from his apartment, I did insist he at least put a jacket on. The night was clear and brisk, and the walk was refreshing, if relatively short. Aaron kept me entertained with what I thought were somewhat exaggerated stories of the highs and lows of his day so far. I found myself laughing as he modulated his voice to impersonate a coworker, his hands never still during his tales of life at a midrate magazine, as he so eloquently stated.

  We were soon at our destination, a hip gallery near Dupont Circle. We entered what looked like an old brick façade storefront. The interior, however, was a contemporary surprise. It was completely hollowed out, with exposed air ducts and a super high ceiling. The floors were a highly polished maple, while the walls were bright white and proved a brilliant backdrop to the oversized black-and-white photography gracing them. It was a terrific space. I found myself drawn to the art immediately and interested in the story behind each piece.

  Aaron was greeted at the door by a large, redheaded older woman dressed in black and draped in colorful scarves, who literally smothered him into her chest as she kissed his cheek in greeting.

  “Darling! You’re here! Richie has been asking after you, pumpkin. Go find him and let him know he has friends here. He’s so nervous tonight. The usual, I know… and yet, look at this place! Amazing! As usual.”

  “Oh, I can’t wait to see! Gilda, this is my friend, Matt. Matt, Gilda owns the gallery. Richie, I’ll introduce you in a sec, is an artist-slash-photographer, and he is always nervous on opening nights! He’s very talented. You’ll see.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, Matt. Get that boy a glass of something, Aaron. You’re being a terrible friend!” She blew Aaron a kiss and turned to greet guests arriving just behind us.

  I followed Aaron into the space and was indeed impressed with his friend’s obvious talent. A handsome waiter dressed completely in black came around to offer us a glass of wine. We each took one and turned to gaze together at a large photograph of the New York City skyline. I looked at Aaron, who seemed lost in thought for a moment. I reached over to wipe the smudge of red lipstick from Gilda’s enthusiastic greeting off his cheek, and he gave me a weak grin.

  “What are you thinking?” I asked him.

  “I wish I was there sometimes.” He sounded so wistful.

  “New York?”

  “Yeah. I love it there. Someday, that’s where I want to live.” He sighed and the longing in his expression said more than his simple words.

  “Why? Don’t you like DC?”

  “Sure. Of course. But, I’m from here practically. I want to see more, do more, you know? I can’t see myself on the west coast, but I can definitely see myself in the Big Apple. How about you? If you could live anywhere, where would you live?”

  “New York.”

  He turned to face me, looking like he wanted to give me shit for making fun of him, but he must have seen that I was serious.

  “I mean it.” I shrugged in response. “I’m from a small town outside of Pittsburgh. I love this city. Don’t get me wrong. But once I have my law degree, pass the bar here, and have a couple of years of experience with a reputable firm, I want to move on and see if I can make it there. The ultimate challenge, so they say, is New York City. ‘New York, New York…. If you can make it there, you can make it anywhere’,” I quoted.

  Aaron mustn’t have expected such an impassioned speech about NYC from me. His mouth was literally open in astonishment. I went on complete impulse, figuring I’d apologize if I had to, and leaned forward, placing a chaste kiss on his mouth. He closed his eyes when our lips met, and I took the invitation, deepening the kiss and closing my own eyes, momentarily lost in Aaron. Until someone came up behind us and coughed loudly. Aaron started and jumped away from me in surprise.

  “Richie!”

  “Hi, baby! So happy to see you! Who did you bring us?”

  I couldn’t help but be a little irritated at Richie’s interruption, but I could tell upon meeting him that he wasn’t the type you could stay angry with for long. He was smiling at Aaron in obvious adoration, but he was so much older that I took it to be a fatherly sort of look and not pervy. He was a few inches shorter than Aaron, and if I had seen Richie’s application of makeup before I’d seen Aaron’s eyeliner and gloss, I wouldn’t have even noticed Aaron was wearing any. Richie was decked in colored eye shadow, blush, and lipstick. He was dressed more like Aaron, in tighter-fitting black jeans and a black velvet jacket with a hint of a fuchsia-pink T-shirt underneath. He looked genuinely happy to see Aaron and equally happy to meet me. I smiled in return and offered him my hand in greeting.

  “Hi, I’m Matt. Aaron’s friend. Your photography is absolutely incredible. I’m so glad Aaron invited me tonight.” I knew I was probably laying it on a little thick, but he appeared to appreciate it and Aaron was giving me the sweetest shy smile, so I figured I was doing the right thing after all.

  “Thank you. So very nice to meet you, Matt.” Richie shook my hand enthusiastically, smiling all the while. He winked at Aaron and then turned to kiss his cheek. I thought I heard him say something like, “Don’t let this one get away, honey,” before he turned to greet other patrons in the now-crowded gallery.

  We made our way through the exhibit, sipping wine and commenting here and there on Richie’s artistic vision. I learned that Aaron had met Richie when he taught a class on photography at the university Aaron attended. They’d been friends for a few years now. I was introduced to his partner, Dean, as well, who was Richie’s polar opposite. Tall and robust, he looked a bit like a gangster from an old Humphrey Bogart movie. In fact, I thought maybe he meant business partner until I caught Dean’s arm move protectively around Richie’s shoulder in a lover’s embrace at one point.
It made me smile. Things aren’t as you assume.

  I couldn’t help but notice the exhibit’s attendees were almost all gay or lesbian. I had never been introduced to so many partners outside of a law firm. The patronage ranged from very effeminate to very masculine for both male and female. Aaron kept an eye on me, I’m sure, gauging my reaction. I wondered if he thought I’d be scared away by the rampant homosexuality in the room. Honestly, I found it liberating in a way I couldn’t quite explain.

  “Are you hungry, or did you have one too many canapés?” Aaron asked as we left the gallery.

  “Canapés are hors d’oeuvres, right? I ate a couple, but I’m starving. Do you still want Indian?”

  Aaron laughed. “Yeah, Indian sounds great. Curry chicken would be divine right about now. What did you think of the exhibit?”

  I had enjoyed the gallery much more than I imagined I would have, and I told him so. Aaron grinned up at me happily. He began weaving another story as we walked, complete, of course, with hand gestures. This time it was about Richie and what his photography class had been like when he taught Aaron at university. I was ultra-aware of Aaron’s arm brushing against my own. The streets were busy, and we were jostled together more often than not. I was actually grateful to have the excuse to touch him. He’d have been surprised to know I loved being in the gay-friendly part of town, where touching another man in public wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. If anything, I wished he’d let me hold his hand. I decided, “What the hell?” and grasped hold of his fingers when his arm swung down again. He smiled at me in surprise, but he didn’t pull away.

  The restaurant was small, and if I hadn’t been with Aaron, I would have passed right by the entrance. He let go of my hand, pointing to the door.

  “This is it. It doesn’t look like much on the outside, but don’t judge yet.” And with his customary flourish, Aaron held the door open for me.

  The restaurant’s interior was dark, but there were brightly colored lanterns hung throughout the space and beautiful printed pillows at each booth. The table we were shown to had a single lantern and a red rose on it, giving it a cozy, romantic vibe. I wondered how this all fit with our “friend” status, but wasn’t stupid enough to ask.

  “This is nice,” I commented after we’d placed our drink order.

  “I know. I love this place. Can’t eat Indian all the time, but this is absolutely my fave. You want to share some curry chicken, or do you not do sharesies?”

  I laughed out loud. “Sharesies? You are funny. Yeah, I’ll sharesies with you, but order a lot of whatever. I am starving. Those canapés weren’t much.”

  “Ha-ha… very funny. Make sport, if you wish. I’ll do the ordering Paul Bunyan style for my manly friend here. I just can’t….” Aaron stopped midsentence as someone vaguely familiar approached our table.

  “Aaron! Hey, honey, how are you?”

  No way. It was the bald guy I’d seen him running with last month. The one who kissed him on the street. I could feel my blood begin a slow boil. Who was this guy, anyway? I knew I was giving our unexpected visitor a less-than-welcoming stare and was surprised by the depth of my jealousy. I could feel it like a physical thing. Aaron seemed to take it all in stride. I noticed he seemed a little cool to our unwanted guest but then again, maybe it was wishful thinking on my part.

  “Hi, Chris. I’m good. You?” Yes, definitely cool. I was hoping to get the full story as soon as Mr. Clean left. Geez, man, take the hint. Go!

  “Good, good. Um, hey… I don’t want to interrupt. Enjoy your dinner. I’ll call you?” His expression was a little hangdog and pathetic, but I didn’t feel the least bit sorry for the guy. Now I was just curious. How did they go from the sexy smooch on the street to Aaron basically giving him the “I’d rather never see you ever again” brush-off?

  Chris gave Aaron one last supposedly meaningful look and finally turned to leave. I couldn’t see who was with him, but it didn’t seem the kind of restaurant you came to alone. Curiosity was eating me, warring with the haze of jealousy the unwanted visitor had inspired. I was sincerely hoping my chatty companion wouldn’t disappoint.

  Silence. Total silence.

  Oh fuck. That meant he meant something to Aaron, right? Maybe he was nursing a broken heart and messing around as “friends” with me was supposed to help cure it? This could be a nightmare.

  I was startled from my reverie by Aaron’s giggle.

  “You should see your face!” More giggling. What the hell?

  “What exactly is so funny? And who was that?”

  “Lower your voice, Tarzan.” His eyes were still sparkling in amusement, but I was still in the dark. Plus I’d seen them together… I knew there was a story here!

  “Well…,” I prompted.

  “Chris is just someone I used to know. That’s it.”

  You’ve got to be kidding me. That fiery feeling was taking over again. He cannot seriously leave it at that.

  Aaron laughed out loud this time. “What is with you? Oh… I think someone wants to dish. Am I correct?”

  “If you mean I want you to tell me who the hell he is and why he was looking at you like that, then yes… please, dish.”

  “Oh my, you’re jealous! Wow.” He held up his hand as I sputtered and tried to deny it. “That’s very, very flattering. Fine. I’ll tell you as one friend to another. Okay?”

  In other words, he didn’t owe me an explanation but was choosing to give me one. Fine by me. For now.

  “Chris is a nice guy I used to see once in a while. I broke it off with him at the beginning of the year. Remember me telling you that I made a New Year’s resolution or two? One of them was to stop getting involved with men who are bad for me. Like Chris.”

  “Did he do something to you? Did he hurt you?” I sounded like a thug. Like I was going to go after him and kick the guy’s ass if Aaron confirmed anything abusive had gone down. But I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t control my reactions to Aaron. I felt insanely protective toward him.

  He smiled warmly at me, telling me with that one sweet gesture he appreciated my overreaction. Then he continued dishing.

  “Not physically, silly. Chris is like many men in this good old capital of ours. He’s a married-with-kids closet homosexual who likes to play when he goes away to work in the big bad city. My resolution to myself was that I won’t be the asshole he’s screwing around with, yes, bad pun intended, while his wife is changing diapers back home in Nebraska. I’m not going to get involved with anyone ever again who isn’t 100 percent out and gay and proud to be with me.”

  I was reeling from the first part of his speech, and when I tuned back into the second part, I got the full picture of who he thought I was.

  The worst thing was he wasn’t—or hadn’t been—half-wrong to assume I wasn’t an out-and-proud gay man. But what he didn’t realize, or maybe what I still needed to show him, was that I wanted to be out for him. I wanted a chance, and I was pissed now, knowing that jerk had set me back just by being the asshole he was. No wonder Aaron insisted on us just being friends. He was probably sure I was looking to get my bi-curious experience on with him and dive back into the hetero side of the pool. I didn’t know how to prove myself, but I was determined to do so.

  “Whoa. Okay. I won’t ask any questions, but can I please ask that you don’t ever, ever—” I paused, trying to gather my whirlwind thoughts. “—don’t think I’m like him. I’m not, Aaron. I… look, this may be a crappy time, but….”

  “Don’t. Please. You’ll ruin my curry chicken. I don’t want to think about Chris. I’m sorry we ran into him. But let’s leave the rest alone for now. Please?”

  What could I say? I agreed. Dinner was a bit more subdued than I thought it would have been if we hadn’t run into Chris, but by the time the check came around, Aaron seemed like himself again. We argued over the bill and I won. I was rewarded with a huge smile and a kiss on the cheek as we headed back by foot to his place.

  I was hoping he
’d invite me upstairs, but I didn’t know how he was really feeling about running into his old “whatever he was.” Truthfully, I wanted more information. How did Aaron get involved with a married man, anyway? I tried not to dwell and instead focus on Aaron’s new round of chatter, which was all about food. Did I cook? No. Was my mom a good cook? I thought so. What was my favorite home-cooked meal? My mom’s lasagna. And on it went.

  I learned that Aaron professed to be a rather good cook, if he did say so himself. Nowhere near as accomplished as his mother or his sister, Maria, but better than his sister Tess. And don’t make him laugh, but his father and brother couldn’t figure out how to boil water together. I was a little like his dad and brother, so I didn’t comment there. I loved how he talked and shared little pieces of himself. I was sure he didn’t think he was doing anything but filling the silence; however, he was actually telling me about himself and the things and people he cared about, like his family. He obviously adored them all, but seemed to be a little distant with his dad. Probably not totally surprising, since it sounded like his family was a traditional Latino one. Catholic and all, he told me.

  By the time we were back in front of his building, we were both laughing over one of my failed cooking exploits dating back to grade school, when I had attempted to make my mom breakfast in bed for Mother’s Day. Runny eggs crunchy with shells and burnt toast. Yum. The condition of the kitchen probably would have earned me a sore bottom if my heart hadn’t been in the right place. Aaron was wiping tears away as he laughed at my poor younger self.

  It made me smile. I could not figure out, for the life of me, why this eyeliner-and-lip-gloss-wearing raven-haired male beauty was turning me inside out, but I was smitten. Truly, utterly smitten. If I had to regale him with embarrassing stories of my youth to stay with him a few minutes longer, I would gladly do so. Lord knows there was no shortage of embarrassing moments to draw from.