by Trey Martini
Sean is polite. "The Morrelli name is on your jackets–we voted for your dad for something–be nice. I hear you guys are good at water polo."
"Where’d you hear that?" Luke wants the details.
"Our bartender’s on the USF polo team. He’s seen you guys play."
Luke is upset. "Your bartender plays USF polo? Fuck me."
Jon likes the fun. "Don’t give him any ideas."
Sean keeps talking. "Surprised a gay man can swim?"
Luke and Jon answer simultaneously: "Yeah".
"Who is it?" Now Jon wants to know.
"Curious or interested?" Sean taunts.
Luke is riled. "What kind of question is that?"
Even Jon gets agitated. "Just curious. Forget it."
Sean offers the bait. "Todd said you were great players and hoped you’d play for USF."
"Todd? Wait–Todd Thompson? The Mormon?" Jon is more than surprised.
Sean smiles at their interest. "That’s the one."
Luke needs convincing. "Toddler Thompson bartends here?"
"Weekends. You call him Toddler?"
"Yeah. He’s sort of short for polo. Todd got a full-ride scholarship to USF. What’s he doing working here?" Luke is still confused.
Jon moves back in for the joke. "He must like riding other things."
Sean makes an offer. "Want to talk to him?"
Jon and Luke answer simultaneously: "Yes…No…"
Sean calls in through the open door. "Oh, Toddler! Come on out. You seem to have some fans at the curb."
Todd comes outside wiping his hands on a bar towel. His face is wide open with an inviting smile. Luke and Jon look embarrassed. He reaches out to shake their hands. Jon shakes but Luke ignores Todd’s gesture. "I’ve seen you play. Impressive."
Luke gets uptight. "Oh yeah? Where, when?"
"All-City vs. St. Peter’s…"
Now Luke remembers. "You followed us into the locker room. Into the showers."
Todd laughs at the look on Luke's face. "Yeah, in the showers. You’re very impressive in the showers too."
Jon laughs back. "This is too funny."
Luke loses it. "It’s fucking sick! Where’s Dad?" Luke throws his backpack against the wall. The window nearby shatters, revealing a cluster of gay men watching them through what's left of the one-way glass."
"Smooth move Lucifer."
Luke can't deal with this. "Fucking fags!"
"Cool move, Lucifer. That upped the ante to hate crime."
In a rage, Luke kicks out the Porsche taillight just as Tony pulls up.
Tony parks half on the sidewalk, runs to Luke and grabs his son's shoulders
"Luke–tell me you didn’t just…"
Sean steps forward and offers his hand to Tony. "Hello, Judge Morrelli, I’m Sean Connors, it’s my car. No big deal. The boys were just playing around…"
Tony doesn't calm down. "What happened here? Everyone OK? Tony points to the window. He sees Luke’s anger. What the heck happened?"
Sean laughs. "Heck? Again, just boys playing around. That’s why we have insurance."
Tony won’t let go. "Come on, please. Tell me exactly what happened."
Sean isn't giving in. "Guess they didn’t seal the glass right. Backpack just hit the wall. Didn't even touch the glass."
Tony focuses on Luke. "You threw your backpack at…"
Sean tries to maintains damage control. "His brother," Sean smiles brightly, "boys will be boys." Sean changes the subject to try and calm Tony down. "You know, we’ve met before," he says to Tony, “at least once."
Tony flushes and starts thinking. "Oh. I’m sorry I…"
Sean is speaking cautiously–fabricating now, he doesn’t really want the boys to know the circumstances of their first meeting 20 years before. He’s waiting for Tony to make the connection himself…"At a fundraiser of some sort. We support a lot of the same causes,” Sean winks at Tony, "Sean Connors,” he repeats his name.
"Oh. Yes. And thanks for being so…uh… understanding. We need to pay…" Tony reaches for his wallet.
Sean is all smiles. "Relax. I said we’re insured."
"I insist–I really need to pay. I'd hate to think what that taillight on a Porsche costs. I know that's not a business expense."
Sean is clearly not interested in money. "You'd be surprised what a good CPA can accomplish these days. It’s part of being in business. You want a beer to help you relax?"
Tony pleads with Sean. "You have to understand my business. I can’t accept–anything–it wouldn’t be right."
Jon speaks up to try and convince Sean. "Translating–Dad’s a judge-lady. One cellphone camera, it‘ll be big news. The Chronicle lives on his ass."
"That must be very uncomfortable. Judge-lady? Is that what you call your father's noble profession?"
Tony persists. "Publicity’s a concern, sure. Luke needs to learn accountability. I’m not convinced he was just playing around. He’ll pay for the damage."
Luke looks wounded now. "How? I’m broke."
For the first time in their lives, Jon and Luke see their father lose control. "You’ll work, dammit. Flip burgers or wash dishes if you have to.”
Todd steps forward to offer his hand to Tony. He holds Tony’s grip a moment too long and looks the judge up and down. "It’s my fault too. I was making some jokes. I guess I wasn't really politically correct. I was just trying to recruit your sons–goofing around with them."
Tony looks Todd over briefly and stutters. "Recruit? My sons? Recruit my sons for what?"
"I’m captain of USF’s polo team. I’ve seen the boys play–they’re good. They can both make the team."
Tony is suspicious. "Where’d you see them play?"
"Mostly at tournaments around town."
Tony still doesn't get it, he gestures at Todd's apron and dishrag. "I still don’t understand."
Todd picks up on the reason for Tony’s confusion. "Oh, I work at the bar on weekends."
Luke steps back in to the conversation. "Todd’s a fag, Dad. He saw us in the showers. He likes to drop his soap and then..."
Tony gets madder. "Lucas, get in the car. Now, or I swear to God I’ll…"
Luke backs away. "Let’s get the fuck out of here. Now!"
Jon looks at the practical side and reaches out to shake Todd's hand. "I’m sorry. We didn't mean to…I guess we don't have a chance to play at USF now."
Todd is more mature than his 21 years. "We’re always hiring swim teachers for the foreign students–if you should need money for–anything–you can always get a job teaching or lifeguarding at the pool. They actually pay pretty well." Todd turns to Tony, puts a big hand on the older man’s shoulder and gives him a card. "I’m serious. The boys can make the team. 3 cards; one for each of you,” he winks, “call me."
Tony blushes, nods his thanks to Todd, then turns and extends his hand to Sean.
"Sorry again…"
Sean tries one last time to jog Tony’s memory. "Forget it. Happens all the time. Good to see you. Again."
Something far away flashes in Tony’s eyes–a realization. His voice breaking now, Tony says to Sean. "Yes, good to see you…again. I’m sorry for your loss. Very sorry."
"Loss?" Sean repeats the word to himself. Dick comes out of the building with a broom.
Tony reaches for the broom. "We should help."
Sean laughs. "Relax. This is my partner Dick. He loves to ride a broom–don't you Dick?"
Reeling with the events, Tony thanks Dick and Sean and gets behind the wheel of the Cherokee.
Luke is still being a brat. He notices the tear in Tony’s eye. “No need to cry about it, wimp. What did that fag hand you?"
"His card. A second chance. Teach swim lessons to pay the damages. Three cards–one for each of us. You'll call him and apologize and work for whatever he'll pay you whenever you have a second free." Tony looks like he could explode but that doesn't stop Luke.
Luke sneers. "Queer asshole."
Jon alw
ays looks for a laugh. "It’s not an asshole, it’s a choice."
CHAPTER 10
Greenwich Village, New York
Trash or Treasures is an eclectic Christopher Street gallery in the gay heart of Greenwich Village. Susan Connors has operated the avant-garde art showcase since she finished her degree in fine arts at Columbia University more than 40 years ago. The landmarked building, built by her great-great-grandfather in 1850, displays modern art that can only be called outrageous. She often puts her most controversial pieces in the wide front windows and delights in pushing the buttons of the tourists who swarm along the country's most famous gay sidewalks. Although generally straight herself, Susan feels very much at home in the Bohemian center of the city where anything goes, any time. As the telephone rings, the lively older redhead is finishing her nails by the cash register.
"Trash or Treasures. This is Susan, can I help you?"
Sean laughs at the greeting. He pictures Susan at the counter, glasses off and blind to the caller ID.
"Darling sister. I was calling to give you help. Gossip to help liven up your lonely, straight night on a street where a woman like you could not possibly get laid."
"Darling Sean. You’re the sister I never had. Go ahead, what ya got?
"I saw Tony Morrelli outside my bar today."
"Now that's a name from the past. The law school affair that haunts my son to this day. Go on. This should be interesting. Tell me everything."
"I talked to him for a little while."
"And?"
"He remembered me."
"I’m not surprised. You were quite memorable when you were younger, my handsome, much older brother. Did he say anything about Liam?"
"About who?"
Susan sighs loudly. "Liam – the name du jour of my son William. Your nephew–who you still insist on calling 'Billy' if I remember right."
"Tony couldn't really talk. His boys were there."
"Twin sons. A judge. Beautiful wife. The man has it all." Susan's voice is melancholy, as only a mother's voice can be when she suffers for her child.
Sean describes Tony. "Sad eyes. When he recognized me, he looked like he’d been hit by a train. Should I tell Billy?"
"That’s up to you."
"You’re no help. Does Bill carry a torch?"
"A flamethrower. He never got over Tony. I suppose I can let you know now. I’ve got a sin to admit. I already hate myself for it, so be gentle with me. Promise? Liam made me do it and I knew it was crazy when I went along."
"Nobody’s as crazy as a psychiatrist." Sean jokes.
"A few years ago, Liam told me Tony had visited his clinic website."
"Why’s that important?"
"I don't really know. But Liam went nuts. Shut down the site. That’s when he went to Dublin to get his M.Sc. in music composition of all things. Like he needs more degrees. He called it a mental health Sabbatical. When he came back a year later, he changed his name from William to Liam, said William was an English name and not Irish. Then he changed the Connors back to O’Connor."
"What's crazy about that? Irish pride is a little eccentric in this day and age but Billy's done stranger things than that. So have I. So have we."
Susan's voice breaks. "I think he did it to hide from Tony. He got new numbers, rented out his old brownstone, and bought another one two blocks over. He told me the second brownstone was good for taxes. I did what any mother would do–I shut up and went with the flow. But if he actually changed his name to hide from Tony–if he went through all that to avoid an old lover, then he’s as crazy as those socialites he counsels every day. And I did something crazy too."
"If you'll share, I promise not to judge."
"I sent Tony a letter telling him Bill had died. Liam made me do it."
"That was nuts. What the hell for?"
"Liam said he was afraid Tony was trying to get back together. Liam didn’t want to break up a family."
Sean gets upset now. "Liam was with Tony first. Claire stole Tony from Liam. Trust Liam to overdose on ethics. Think you made a mistake when you made the call?"
"Of course. I tried to get Liam to let me do the deed face-to-face, so I could get a read on Tony’s feelings. Thought I could visit you and see Tony on the same trip. But martyr Liam said no. He insisted on a letter–he knew I’d have trouble lying to Tony if we actually talked on the phone or met in person.”
"Did Tony call or write back?"
"He called. Twice. Left messages both times. Liam listened to them on my machine. Then he said they were dead to each other. Tony sent a card with condolences that same week."
Sean looks sad. "I saw pain in Tony’s eyes–didn’t understand then. Now I get it."
"Get what?"
"Tony said he was sorry for my loss."
"So what do we do now, big brother?"
"We meddle. It’ll be fun."
"I promised not to interfere."
"I can interfere. Liam never told me anything about this. Worst charge against me could be a sin of omission. Come visit. Convince Liam to come with you."
"Liam won’t leave New York again, even for a weekend. When he went to Ireland his patients went completely nuts–nuttier. Maybe you can get Tony to come to New York."
"The man has a wife and children."
"More reason for him to leave town."
Sean smiles for the first time. "I love a challenge. Let me think."
Sean and Susan continue their conversation while Todd cleans glasses nearby. It's clear that he has been listening. Todd stays out of sight while Sean makes a second call.
Liam O'Connor is at his desk. Buddy, the Golden Retriever, is snoring nearby.
"Good evening, Dr. Liam O’Connor."
"Hello Billy, it’s Uncle Sean."
Liam smiles and sighs. "A reminder–I haven’t been Billy since I was 10. To the government and everyone I know, I have been Liam–not William–for two years now. I know you just do that to get my goat."
Sean laughs at the bulls-eye. "Bah. Sorry, I can't get used to calling you Liam. I called to chat, not to get a lecture."
"You never call to chat. What’s on your mind? Out with it."
Sean wants to laugh again. "Really. I was just thinking of you."
"Really? How sweet. Sweet, but still not believable. Your inflection is wrong. You forget that I make a living reading people. You'll tell me the truth in a few minutes if I'm patient. Actually, I thought of you the other night too. I was standing a very long time waiting to be served in a bar, one of your bars. How do you keep your places so full?"
Sean replies thoughtfully, "With Moby Dick in the White House, people are depressed. Depressed people drink–business is great on both coasts and along the Gulf. The four bars in Texas are just printing money. I was calling to invite you to visit. Bring your Momma, let's find an excuse for a vacation and some California wine."
"San Francisco in spring? Too cold. Why are you really calling? I have another client coming and I really do need you to tell me the truth soon."
"I met someone I thought you’d like to hear about."
"Too tired for guessing games today. Please just tell me who."
"Do you remember Tony Morrelli?"
"You know the answer to that."
"I saw Tony outside the bar just a few minutes ago."
"Outside your bar? One of your gay bars?"
"Yeah, talked to him not 30 minutes ago. He looks good."
Liam sighs. "I know, he looks damned good."
"You’ve seen him?"
"Online. Some fund-raiser."
"What’re you doing, stalking him?"
"I just Googled him. Which, I guess is stalking. So shoot me."
"Why didn’t you call him instead?"
"To say what? That I miss him? We spent a few months together 20 years ago."
Sean corrects Liam: "9 months. One very hot year in law school. I’ve never seen you happier than you were that year. Or sadder in all the years since."
"I just checked him out on the Net. He probably doesn’t remember me."
"He remembered me."
"Really? You only met once or twice. Are you sure it was him?"
"We met twice while you were together. And no way I’d ever forget him. He hasn't changed a bit."
"You called ‘cause Tony recognized you?"
"I called to tell you I’d seen him. Should I say hello for you?"
"No. Please don’t.” Liam paused a few seconds to think. “But call me if you see him inside the bar."
A doorbell rings and Liam needs to end the call. "Gotta go. Sorry. Last socialite today."
As he hangs up, Sean finally realizes that Todd has been working quietly nearby. "Hey, Todd, been here long?"
"Long enough."
"So you heard?"
"I can put two and two together."
"Please keep it to yourself."
Todd slaps the towel down angrily. "Yeah, I heard all about the smoking-hot judge–who went straight and dumped your nephew. Somebody needs to get even."
"Todd, it’s not about getting even. Tony Morrelli made a choice."
"He made a mistake. Straight men shouldn’t mess with us. We’re not like a pair of shoes you take off the shelf and throw away when you’re done with our souls."
Sean has to laugh just a little. "Poetic." He gives Todd a little hug and squeeze. "Tony wasn’t straight or gay when he was with Liam. He was finding himself. Sexuality’s a spectrum: no black, no white, no constant. Haven’t you read Kinsey?"
"Everyone has read Kinsey. No way I could go straight. I’m gay–100%–always have been."
Sean continues. "If you get stung by a man, a woman may look better. I read that 20% of women who have abortions become lesbians. A bad experience can make any woman more likely to become gay. Same thing with men."
"Where'd you read that, Sean? You got clickbaited to a Vatican site. They spew propaganda to prevent premarital sex and abortions."
"Keep your mind open. Talk to the men and women you meet in here. They tell a bartender everything."
"All I know is myself. And I won’t ever change."
Sean likes his role of teacher. "Life’s full of surprises. Get burned, you back away from fire."
Todd is focused. "OK, so people change. If that’s true then Tony could be gay again–maybe tomorrow–my lucky day."