Seeing the missed call makes me angry, shifts me into a bad mood. I think about how he treated me when he came back from break. How one year of school suddenly made him too good to be around me. Since that summer three years ago, I not only lost touch with him, I stopped caring. Up until the call from my parents, I hadn’t known if he was succeeding in the art world or not. Not that I ever doubted he would or even that I wished ill on him. It was just that I put him out of my mind. With Mr. Clay being evicted from my brain as well, it was a package deal.
Did I have a reason to still be mad at him?
Part of me was saying no. Part of me wanted to let him off the hook. He was my best friend all throughout high school plus, he was dealing with being gay. Maybe I was being too hard on him.
Another part of me felt guilty about what I felt for Mr. Clay. Like it was something gross or unmentionable. I was aware that it had the potential to affect Jordan. But still, Davis and I were both adult men who’d had a very normal relationship until we realized we had an attraction to each other. I couldn’t feel bad about that. I couldn’t control it. It was something that had just happened to us. I make it happen.
I didn’t go to Mr. Clay’s house that day looking to kiss him or feel up on his glorious muscles or even to grip his firm dick.
I feel myself getting hard and put those thoughts out of my mind. At the very least I could call Jordan and tell him I got his call. After all, I was pretty much decided that I was going to see his dad and say my piece. Why not give Jordan his due as well?
I press the dial button to dial back the missed call.
He picks up on the first ring.
“Hey,” I say.
And then, I don’t have anything to say. I’d been thinking of what I wanted to say to Rebecca and Jordan’s father. I hadn’t considered what I would say to my old friend if I ever spoke to him again.
“How’ve you been?” he asks.
“Good,” I say. Then, I remember how this goes, “You?”
“I’ve been good.” He adds, “Long time no talk.”
This is brutal. “Yeah. I’ve been a little busy. You?”
“Same. Graduated this year.”
“Yeah. I still have a year.”
What I don’t say is: I’m behind because I left Fairview after I kind of hooked up with your dad and I couldn’t stand to stay in the same city. Oh, and it took me a few months to get setup with my distance learning program because I was trying to get over him.
“It goes by quickly,” he says. And I’m thinking, it’s all just so lame.
I say, “I really don’t think—”
“Can I see you tonight?”
There it is. “Jordan…” I say. No matter how I feel, to see him right now would be a bad idea.
“I know I was a douche last time we saw each other. There’s a reason.”
There’s nothing I can say.
“Just meet me. You name the place and I’ll be there. I just want to talk to you and explain.”
“I don’t know. I don’t think this is such a good idea.”
“Don’t you even want to hear the reason?”
“For why you treated me like you were better than me, like I was shit? Sorry, can’t say that I’m crazy interested. I only really called you to say that I couldn’t see you.”
“Chris, I’m in love with you,” he blurts out.
He doesn’t speak for a moment, nothing but his ragged breathing coming down the line. Theo wanders into the kitchen, turns on her heels and exits.
“I know,” I mutter.
“You know? How?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I just do.” In that moment, I realize that I knew it all along. Even before his dad told me he was gay.
“You won’t just meet me for one drink?” he says. I can sense that he thinks I’m being ridiculous but I’m not. At first, I didn’t let myself feel how hurt I’d was by his attitude. Now, he calls, and he doesn’t even apologize. He just makes excuses.
Loving someone can’t be about treating them like shit, right?
“I gotta go,” I say. I hang up feeling more like shit than I did before I called.
Jordan’s out of my life for good and I don’t know if it’s good or bad. I have no idea how that will affect things with Davis. I just wish this would all go away, this whole mess.
Sitting the device down, I see that Rebecca’s called. When I call her back, it rings and rings and rings.
14
Chapter 14
I don’t speak to Rebecca until the afternoon. And then, it’s nothing. She tells me she was considering altering our dinner plans but that she has changed her mind. We’re still on for seven at Finneman’s, the local bar and grill that we love.
Later, I’m walking up to the door of Fineman’s when I look through the window and see my girl. Because regardless of what the future holds, she’s still mine. At least for tonight. I’ll forever be grateful to her for the place of solace she offered me once I’d fled to Chicago.
In the soft light of the restaurant, she looks so perfect. I wonder what she’s planned “special” for this evening. I feel a pang of guilt that she’s put this together as well as some excitement. She’s probably wearing lingerie, expecting to take a bubble bath together and give me the luxury treatment once we get home.
The dozen flowers in my hand don’t seem like enough. They droop in my palm as if they’re unwilling to play a role in what’s bound to be heartbreak. That’s what this is, right? I must accept that I’m kind of here to break up with her. This is the last time we’ll have an anniversary dinner. Because, I need to be honest. I’m going to spill all to her. I don’t want her thinking I was half-in on this. I was always all the way in.
But this wasn’t where I belonged.
I can’t be with her if I’m still fantasizing about my friend’s dad.
Even if I can’t be with him either.
“You look pretty,” I say as I walk up to our table.
She stands, and I kiss her on her cheek. “Thank you.”
I hand her the flowers. She gives me a nervous smile. “Thank you.” There is something kind of heartbreaking in the way she still gets nervous around me.
A server comes over and we order the prix fixe menu not out of laziness but because it’s good. Finneman’s is one of the only places where Rebecca will relax her no-meat standard and enjoy some fish. I like the steak frites.
The conversation starts out stilted and then becomes easier and fluid as the night goes on. I almost forget that I’m there to let her down easy. Almost. It haunts me and as the dinner proceeds, I wish that I don’t have to do it. By the time dessert arrives, along with port, I’m wondering if I should at all.
After all, it’s not like I’ve spoken to Davis. I know vaguely what I want to say. I need to talk about what happened. Maybe apologize. Tell him how hard I’m working to forget the whole thing. I miss him. Who knows how he’ll respond. I would be surprised if he does anything less than laugh me off. I’m giving up something good that I already have for nothing.
I start to question the sense of what I’m doing…of just how foolish I’m being when I look up and catch Rebecca staring at me. Really hard.
“Who is she?” she says.
For a second, I have no idea what she’s talking about. It could be the first line to a poem recitation. I glance behind me. “Who is who?”
“I saw you yesterday. Who is she?”
I wrack my brain trying to think of what she could have seen me doing with a girl yesterday. I was with Priscilla but there was nothing but drinking and laughing. “You mean Priscilla?”
“I saw you go off in her fancy little gas-guzzling car. You went on a freaking date? The day before our anniversary?”
I stare at her. She’s gotten this so terribly wrong. Like it’s so wrong that I don’t know how to correct her. How to bring her back to neutral and then over to the right side.
“It’s not what you think.”
&nb
sp; “It’s not what I think?” Her voice rises. “I know what I saw, Chris. Just come clean.”
“Priscilla DeMaris is a donor for the Basketball Boys Club. They’re hands-on, I mean, involved donors. Whatever you think you saw, you didn’t see. It was nothing but work.”
She goes quiet. I glance around the room to see if anyone is witnessing this. I think to myself how terrible I am. This was not what I wanted. It’s exactly what I was trying to avoid. A scene.
When I look at her again, she’s moving a little velvet box onto the table.
Her face looks tight. “Well, I said I had something special prepared for us and I…” She looks up at me, her eyes questioning mine.
My mouth goes dry. My palms, moist. Oh my god. “Are you—were you going to propose to me?”
Back when there was no Davis coming into town, that wouldn’t have been…. it’s hard to even think about.
Her eyes are open, glistening and hopeful. She shrugs. “W-what would you— what would you have said?”
“Rebecca, no,” I say softly. “I would have said no.”
“Because now, you have all of these options. Rich girls falling all over you.” She closes her eyes, tears seep from them. “Of course this happens.”
“No. It has nothing to do with Priscilla. It’s just that—” I don’t mean to say it, but I can’t stop myself. After all, it’s the truth. “It’s just that a year ago when I gave you my heart, it wasn’t exactly mine to give. I’d already given it away.”
15
Chapter 15
I pay the bill and leave Finneman’s with my head spinning. And the things that should be spinning it aren’t the things that’s doing it. My brain accepts that Rebecca was spying on me and that she’d cooked up some scheme to propose to me. Though I would have wanted to be the one to get down on my knee to her—if that was what we were doing—I’m not so old fashioned that I would be resistant to her popping the question to me. I’m just surprised at how out of sync we were. I find myself wondering if we were out of sync the whole time. If I led her on somehow.
But how could I have? I’ve always tried to be honest. I didn’t even know what I wanted until a few days ago.
I realize I’m somewhere in downtown when my phone lights up. I fully expect it to be Rebecca calling me and I’m prepared to ignore the call. Things are so fucked, what would she or I say?
It’s not her. It’s Pricilla. She’s having a party and I’m invited.
That stuns me because it’s a Thursday. But who says you need a weekend to party? Oh, and she’s the one who told me just yesterday that she was lonely in the city. Was it some ploy to get me to her house?
I order an Uber over to the address. It’s not far. A high rise in the Gold Coast.
Her doorman lets me in. I take an elevator up and exit it right into an apartment that’s spacious and finely decorated. There’s no loud music or anything like that when I enter so and I realize that maybe my suspicions are true. I’m at her home. This is where the seduction begins. I notice a giant panel on the wall next to me. It’s an Expressionist piece. A perfect field of blue. It’s riveting and vaguely familiar. Like a Rothko piece. It hits me just how much money the Demaris family has. They own the pieces I’ve read about in textbooks.
“Same color of your eyes,” a voice says, and I turn.
Priscilla is standing right behind me looking every bit of the young lady of the manor. She wears a flowy knee-length kimono type blouse, voluminous pants and thin leather sandals that accentuate her beautiful bare feet. Her hair is up in an improvised turban with strands of it spilling out of the other end like a headband. There is a brooch in front where the turban material gathers.
“Come on through,” she says. “The water’s fine.”
It’s a pool party. Because this high up, she has an infinity pool that overlooks Lake Michigan. The air oozes with wealth and entitlement. Not many people swim even though it’s a warm night. Though there are enough beautiful model types in swimwear. She gestures toward the DJ. “If there’s anything you want to hear, let me know and I’ll have him put it on. Just no grunge.”
Moments later, she places a glass in my hand. “Ketel tonic, right?” she says as if I’ve ordered it or like she knows my drink by heart. I can’t focus because I’m trying to take in my surroundings and how astounding they are. The floor to ceiling windows. Art everywhere. The expensive leather furniture in a muted all-white palette. And then there are the beautiful nonchalant people gathered in groups of two and three chatting and smoking. So perfect, so impenetrable. It’s like something out of a movie. I’ve never felt so out of place.
She takes me by the hand. I’m aware of her leading me somewhere and I don’t bring my full focus to bear until we’re halfway to our destination. Uh oh, I think. The private room. Should I? I don’t know what to do. But then Tyson flashes into my mind. I start to wonder why he isn’t here. I’m about to protest when she stops in front of a wooden door.
“Would you like to see my library?”
“Sure,” I say. Of course, the library. Euphemism is a four-letter word.
I need to get out of this, but I don’t know how yet.
I haven’t a clue what I’m doing here anyway. It’s not lost on me that this is the rarefied world Jordan was so anxious to leave Fairview for, full of rich beautiful people. He’s right. If this is the world he lives in, I don’t belong here. No wonder he left me behind.
Priscilla cracks the door and pushes me ahead of her.
And everything I thought I knew shifts.
“Don’t be mad,” he says, trying for a smile. He’s standing there like he’s been waiting. Still in all black, but at least the trendy clothes are gone. His jeans are dark and slim. He wears a sweater that looks thin but luxurious. His hair is tamed. A quiet conservative cut. Though nothing is overdone, he looks expensive. Looks like New York.
Suddenly, it’s years ago and I’m standing across from him on the lawn.
“Jordan, what the fuck?”
He comes toward me. The air is suffused by his expensive cologne as he moves. “Chris, can we talk?”
“Did you put her up to this?” I feel like my head’s about to catch fire, I’m so angry.
“Okay, fine,” he says. He walks over to the large wooden door and opens it. “Leave, then.”
I charge out. I sweep past Priscilla who’s smile melts into regret when she sees that I’m leaving.
I fly through the pool party and past the DJ table. I navigate through the sitting area and around the piano. I don’t stop until I come to some sort of a second sitting area where there is no one. And then I pace, like a penned animal, my brain moving too fast for me to decide what to do. Priscilla is hot on my heels. “Chris,” she says, “I had to. He’s a friend from New York and once I saw it was you, I…”
I walk away, leaving her where she is. I just need to get my senses back together. I’m so mad that I don’t know what to do. Being tricked. Jordan trying to orchestrate things after being a dick to me.
I’m by the elevator when I can finally take a deep breath. Finally catch my breath and relax a little. Just enough to order an Uber.
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