Taking Lead

by Dallas Redford

  22

  Chapter 22

  When I get back home, I have a surprise visitor.

  “Traitor,” I say as I open the door to let her in.

  It’s no water off her back. Theodora walks right back into the place as the right and proper owner.

  “What? You thought you’d take a little vacation, Theo. Or were you mad at me, too?”

  She looked like she was. There was a box on the porch addressed to me. Even though Theodora had chewed off the top part and the From address entirely off, I knew who’d sent it. I’d seen my name written on lunches in that curly cursive for years. There it was in the To part.

  “Hey mom,” I say when she picks up.

  “Oh, my baby’s calling me. Did you get it?”

  “I did. I’m opening it now.”

  “I put some of your cowboy cookies in there.”

  And indeed, she had. As I open it all the fragrances from home waft out of the box and I begin to long for Fairview. I miss having my parents around. To think that I gave it all up to run away from Davis. It seems crazy now.

  My mother gives a little cough tearing my attention away from the box. “How are you doing honey? How’s work? How’s Rebecca?”

  “I’m good. Work’s fine. Rebecca, I don’t know.”

  “Everything okay? You won’t have to move, will you?”

  “Well, not exactly. She did. She moved out.”

  I proceed to tell my mother the story of what happened, including the ring and the proposal that wasn’t. I leave out the part about Davis.

  “Well,” my mother says, after a short pause, “No relationship can stand without trust. So, if she’s already spying on you before it’s official, maybe you made the right move. I support you either way, baby.”

  “That’s what I did.”

  “Did you get a chance to see Jordan and Davis? They’re still there, right?” She clears her throat. “They should be leaving tomorrow, huh?”

  “Yeah. I think Davis’ show is tonight,” I say vaguely though I know full well that it is. “I’ll have to give it a miss though because I’m behind the bar.”

  “That’s too bad,” she says.

  I ask to talk to dad but he’s out working and my mother, who works from home as a virtual assistant needs to get back to work. We swap I love yous and hang up as I take a cookie from the box. The first bite of is heavenly. I wonder if I still remember the recipe. Over time, my mother taught me how to cook a few things and these cookies were one of them though hers were always the best. The few times before that my mom had sent these, Rebecca had broken her no refined sugar/no gluten rules to eat them.

  The place felt lonely without her.

  Even after taking my side, my mother had urged me to seek Rebecca out. At least to clear the air, she said. “Don’t burn bridges you might need to cross.”

  But she’s so wrong. Rebecca spied on me and then just left. It’s hard not to be upset at her.

  Theodora comes wandering in after surveying the house. She draws near, brushes against my legs. “Everything in order, Sergeant Theo?”

  She meows up at me. Her small eyes moist and begging.

  “No. You cannot have cowboy cookies.”

  She stalks off, her tail in the air.

  “Welcome home, Theo.”

  ***

  Bianca and Edson are in the changing room when I get into work later that night. They step awkwardly apart from one another as I enter.

  “If you guys are worried about the other night. I wasn’t offended. Just don’t invite me next time,” I say, giving them a smile.

  “It’s not exactly that,” Edson says. “We just got a little bit distracted and then we came to look for you and that one dude that’s always here…”

  “Bryson?”

  “Yeah. He said that you’d gone home.”

  “Yeah. I didn’t stay for too long.”

  “We’re really sorry,” Bianca says. “We’re going out again tonight. You wanna come?”

  “Same place?”

  “Yeah?”

  Images of guys all over each other, strobe lights and drag queens flash into my mind.

  “I might give it a pass. I think I pulled my ankle earlier today while playing ball. I probably shouldn’t even be walking on it.”

  “Okay,” Bianca says.

  They slip out and leave me to change. It’s almost as if talking about my ankle causes it to flare up again. I’m wincing when I go out to the bar and I can’t do anything to hide it. But it’s not like I can go home either, I need the money. Especially now that Rebecca is gone. My manager Matt spots me trying to hide my limp and before I know it, I’m sent home to give my ankle some rest. Manager’s orders.

  It sucks but it’s probably for the best.

  Of course, knowing that I’m free for the rest of the evening, the first thing that pops into my head is that I should go to Davis’ gallery showing. But he’s made it clear that we’re just friends and I don’t know how to do that around him. How to be okay with that because it feels like he wants more, just like I do. Plus, knowing that he’s leaving town…I’d be a mess.

  I’ve managed to ignore it all day but my chest aches when I think that he’s leaving again. For good.

  I decide to skip the showing but I don’t want to go home. I do the next best thing: I duck into one of the other bars that line the same street as O’Reilly’s and order me a cheap, cold happy hour drink.

  “Well, well,” comes a voice at my ear.

  I turn and it’s the barfly I love to hate. It’s strange seeing him out of his setting across from me at O’Reilly’s. “You’re cheating on me?”

  “Did we come to an arrangement, sexy? How on earth did I forget that?” Bryson says with a grin.

  “No. We didn’t. You and O’Reilly did, though. Normally, this time of day, I’m behind the bar. And you’re giving me unwanted attention. Now you got this—” I look up at our bartender, a stocky short-haired masculine looking chick. “Now you got her, and you don’t need me.”

  “Equal opportunity, baby. The flag is for LGBT. And I intend to be every single one before I die.”

  I laugh because that doesn’t even make sense but it’s Bryson and he’s hilarious.

  “Why are you off work so early, baby?”

  I tell him. He looks down at my ankle. “It looks okay.”

  I hold up my glass. “This is better than Advil.”

  “Amen to that.” We clink.

  “What are you going to do with your night? Troll for fresh meat? End up hugging strange men in gay bars?” He gives me a grin.

  “You don’t know how much I needed that hug that night. I’d just gotten some crazy news.”

  “Is it about anyone I know?” he says, leaning in for some juicy gossip.

  “No. I’d just found out the love of my life whom I can’t be with was coming to town.”

  “I love it!” he says. “Pure Romeo and Julio realness!”

  It takes me a second to realize he’s talking about Romeo and Juliet.

  “How do you know it’s a Julio and not a Juliet? You keep saying that you think I’m gay. Not everybody’s into men, you know.”

  He gives me a look. “So, did you confess all? Did you lay it on the line for Julio?”

  I tried to, didn’t I?

  His eyes narrow. “I met him, didn’t I? It was that daddy that came into the bar yesterday with his son.”

  My face gets warm. He covers his mouth.

  First, I wasn’t sure that Bryson knew what month it was, let alone day of the week. Second, how had he known?

  “Don’t you even try to deny it,” he says.

  Something about him being able to suss me out so easily unnerves me. “You’re some kind of fucking tipsy Agatha Christie…”

  The bartender starts cracking up. I’d forgotten she was there. Bryson orders us another round.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Yes, I do. Because I’m about to give
you the first piece of Gay Life Advice 101 now that you’re joining the club.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yes, because you were looking at him like you were head over fucking heels in love. Like a damn puppy who wanted a bone.”

  “Okay,” I say. “What’s this advice?”

  “Leave him alone.”

  It takes me a moment to see that he’s serious. “What? Why?”

  “He has a son. Presumably, he was married or at least he fucks fish. That man, sexy as he was, had confused written all over him with a capital K like those TV sisters with the fake everything. Now, here’s the gag: confusion is a luxury of youth. If you reach his age and you can’t figure out if you like dick or fish, it’s not an error. It’s willful delusion.”

  He holds his drink up to cheers me. He’s just bought mine and I clink my glass against his even though it feels like betrayal. Is it possible that Davis has been lying to me? I’d always assumed I was the end all of his attraction to men. Is this what he meant about taking advantage of me? Is this why he was pushing me away? He wanted to try it with other guys?

  I think back to that afternoon. One of the hottest, most confusing and most frustrating episodes of my life. The whole premise of my attraction to him was because we were attracted to each other despite our “status” as straight men. I’d never looked at another guy before he touched me. Davis had set off a reaction in me by touching me, like fire running through my body. My body wanted him, yearned for him in a way that it hadn’t with my previous girlfriends or with Rebecca.

  Just thinking that there might be been other special guys in his life makes a flood of jealousy and possessiveness flash through me.

  I took some comfort in the fact that he hadn’t talked to Cindy in three years. That must have meant something, right?

  If it was true.

  Makes sense that you wouldn’t want to risk it all if you were lying.

  The liquor takes hold of me and Bryson buys me enough drinks to fill a bottle. Soon after we’re heading over to Foxxes. Once there, I order a drink but after one sip, I waver, and I know I’ve reached my limit. I thank him for his company and we exchange phone numbers because we feel like real friends now.

  His words pound in my head as I leave, as miserable as it makes me. Of course, it makes sense. Davis said he felt the same way about me. Why else wouldn’t he give us a chance? There must be something else going on.

  I almost make it to the door when a hand grabs my arm.

  I turn around and see Bianca and Edson.

  “You made, it!” she says.

  “I’m actually about to go.”

  She gives me a pouty face. “Oh, that’s too bad.”

  For the first time in my life, I notice that there is something kind of sexy about her. It might be the way her hair is up and the thin shirt she’s wearing. Plus, Bryson’s words are floating around in the back of my head. And now, I don’t know what to think. I can’t exactly talk to Davis about any of this. I can’t even trust Davis. I’m completely alone.

  Maybe that’s why I join them. I stand with them for a while, sipping on a new drink, trying not to blackout.

  I find myself wondering how Davis’ show went. If he sold any pieces. Was that even the purpose of the show? I just—I just want to talk to him for god’s sake. I miss him, and I want to know how he’s doing and what’s happening in his life. I want to be able to touch him if I want to….

  Fuck this “friends” shit. I can’t deal with the fact that he might be lying to me.

  But he isn’t, is he? When we’re together, I can feel how real it is.

  Just that idea of touching him starts a stirring down below in my pants. Then, strippers come on stage and a pounding tribal song begins to blare from the speakers. They start to remove their clothes slowly and sensually. Before I can even focus on what effect that’s having on my dick, I feel a hand start to snake slowly around my waist. I glance at Bianca but she’s staring straight ahead, both hands on her drink. I look up at Edson’s face. There’s a kind of hopeful, sexy stare that he’s giving me.

  “Whoa,” I say, and he snatches his hand back.

  I set my drink down on the bar as I book it out of there. I’m halfway down the block before I hear pounding feet and my name being called. It’s Edson. He catches me and grabs me by the arm.

  “Sorry dude,” Edson pants. “I meant no disrespect. It’s just that my girl and I both think you’re kind of hot and I don’t know many other bi dudes. Wait.” He blushes. “You are bi, too? Right?”

  I don’t answer.

  “I’m sorry. That’s none of my business. Fuck. We thought maybe you’d be down for something. Maybe a date? We’re kinda trying the open relationship thing. Now, I’ve made it weird.”

  “A date?”

  “Yeah? I mean, we were hoping…” He gives me that wide-eyed look again. And not only is Bianca hot, he’s sexy too. Olive colored skin and plump red lips. He’s all muscle. Causual in jeans and a black button down.

  It feels good to be wanted. There’s no confusion. No just friends. Hell, I get a guy and a girl, both sexy. I debate my response.

  But what is there to say? I already know where I stand.

  “Me and the missus, we’re interested in… a relationship,” he explains, and I nod. “But, it has to be the right dude, you know. We thought maybe you…” He’s confidence on a stick but he falters for a second.

  “I don’t know that I’m the one you’re looking for,” I say. “I wish I were.” It’s an ego boost to hear that not one but two people are interested but my heart is already taken. Nothing can make me doubt him. I need Davis. And I’m a fool for wanting what I can’t have. Going home with Bianca and Edson would be the easy way out. And I’d be breaking three hearts in the end instead of just one.

  Edson pauses and then he moves in and gives me a hug along with a soft kiss on my cheek. I glance back at the doorway to see that Bianca is standing there. I give her a little wave and she returns it as I let him go.

  I leave and head toward the L and my lonely home.

  23

  Chapter 23

  I’m wincing by the time I reach my block and I’m cursing myself for not taking an Uber with my ankle hurting like it is now that the alcohol is wearing off. But, between not earning any tips tonight and having to carry the full rent this coming month I can’t afford it. I need to be conserving money not wasting it. I don’t want to reach out to my parents. They’ll just try to convince me to move back home.

  As I approach my building, I think one thing: I’m proud that I’ve avoided calling or texting Davis tonight. With the alcohol in my system, it could have happened. It certainly occurred to me to text him about his show. Especially with him right across the city. Wanting him as much as I want him. Especially with him being as sexy as he is… I’m tipsy as fuck and I feel like I’m in withdrawal. I crave his touch. Still spinning from this sudden reappearance he’s made in my life. Without the physicality of him, it was easier to pretend I was over him.