Fin&Matt

by Charlie Winters

  “God, please tell me you mean it.” I choked on a laugh as I waited for him to answer.

  “Seriously?” He smacked my backside and gave me another rough kiss. “Fuck, I can’t believe you said yes.”

  “How long have you been planning this little proposal? We’ve only been together for two months.”

  “I knew after two hours.”

  I pressed my whole body into his, relaying my relief with a long kiss. “Good answer.”

  ♂♂

  “Did I hang my jeans? They aren’t here.” Matt dug through his overnight bag with anxious hands, tossing everything onto the mattress as an afterthought.

  I strolled over to the small leather armchair, picked up the folded pair of jeans, and handed them to Matt.

  “Thanks,” he mumbled, pulling them on over his impressive thighs.

  He wore the Paul Smith briefs under them that we had purchased on our first shopping excursion together. They hugged his body in the most obscene way, sending my thoughts into the future. However, Present Matt was high-stress, wandering the small room like an inmate.

  “Matt, can you sit down for a second?”

  He wandered to the closet again, pulling a V-neck sweater off of a plastic hanger. “It’s wrinkled,” he grumbled.

  “Matt,” I repeated. “Can you sit down?”

  “Not really, Fin. We’re late.”

  “For what? They don’t know we’re coming, right? I mean, we could be there at ten in the morning or ten at night. Just sit. Do it for me, okay?”

  He sighed, but took a seat on the edge of the bed. He was restless but took the time to study me, giving me a long look up and down. “You look really great.”

  “Yeah?” I let out a long sigh. “I was nervous about what to wear. Everything I have seems so – I don’t know – gay.”

  He laughed. “You are gay.”

  “I don’t want to look gay when I meet your parents.”

  “Well, babe, we’re going there as a couple, so I’m pretty sure they’ll figure out that you like boys pretty quickly.”

  I lowered in front of him, kneeling to place my hands on his thighs. His zipper was still undone, forcing me to swiftly look away from the black band of his underwear.

  Damn you, Paul Smith.

  “Listen to me. No matter what happens today, you have me.”

  “I know.” His blue eyes were sincere, full of character. Full of love.

  “Wear the blue oxford instead. I had it pressed this morning. It’s on the back of the bathroom door.”

  “You’re too good for me.”

  I cleared my throat. “Are you going to tell your parents? You know, about us… getting married?”

  “Yes. If I was ashamed, I wouldn’t have asked you.”

  “Okay. Um… also, we can wait until we have a date set or whatever, but eventually we have to tell Gallo. Once you move in, we have to inform the school of a change of address, right? They’ll figure out that we’re living together.”

  “I’m not worried about any of that. Gallo and I have a good relationship. He likes you; it will be fine. I just need to get through today. You ready?”

  I nodded.

  I wasn’t.

  Not even one little bit.

  ♂♂

  Matt cut the engine as we stared up at the dark brick house with the steep driveway. It had a bright yellow door with a tattered American flag flapping every few seconds. “This is it,” he responded listlessly.

  I squeezed his hand before reaching for the door handle. “Now or never. Let’s go.”

  Matt was a visible wreck. His hair and clothing were pressed, yes, but he was a different story. His normally tanned skin took on an almost ghastly shade of pale, sweat beading around his temples.

  “You okay?” I whispered as he rang the bell.

  “No,” he answered simply.

  A woman in her late-fifties answered the door, long platinum-blonde hair pulled into a stark bun. Her face was well-worn, nothing like my mother’s vibrant one. Her mouth conveyed everything we needed to know, opening into a confused oh.

  “Matt,” she finally muttered. “What’re you doing here?”

  “Do you think we could come in?” he asked.

  She glanced at me before turning back to him. “Who’s this?”

  “Fin, this is my mother, Pam DiFiore. This is Finlay MacAuliffe. He’s my—”

  “Your boyfriend?” she asked quietly.

  “Yes,” he returned with authority. “Can we, Ma? Come in?”

  “Marc’s here with his new girlfriend. And your dad’s back there too.” She looked nervous, glancing behind her every few seconds.

  “I don’t care who’s here. I just need to say a few things.”

  She opened the door and gestured us inside. “I don’t think your father wants to see you right now. He’s been working late and he’s got a lot on his plate. He hasn’t changed his mind… about homosexuals.” She practically choked on the word. Clearly, she was raised to fear the unknown.

  Matt held his composure, sending a short glance up to the stained ceiling. “Can you go get Dad, please?”

  “He’s drunk,” she mumbled. “You may want to come back later.”

  “When, Ma? He’s always drinking. Please.”

  She walked away, slowly making pace to the back of the house.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  I mouthed no at him, one second before a much thinner, older version of Matt appeared before us.

  Max DiFiore.

  “You here for forgiveness?” his father asked.

  “No, I just wanted—”

  “To flaunt your faggot boyfriend in our faces?” Max stared at me for a split second before adding, “Well, at least he sorta looks like a woman.”

  My body immediately froze as I fought the urge not to vomit in my place. My head tilted down as I studied the worn carpet. Gray. Flecks of gold.

  Matt placed a loving hand on my back before...

  “No,” Matt seethed. “You do not get to talk to him like that. Or me. I don’t give a shit that you’re a homophobic asshole. You can save that for your work buddies. I’m your fucking son. You loved me your whole life until I came out. Then, you—”

  “Came out?” Max barked. “You didn’t fucking come out to anyone. You hid behind some sham of a marriage and paid hustlers to fuck you.”

  Matt winced visibly. “Even though that’s not how it happened, I’ll let you have your little fantasy. I never loved Becky and everyone knew it. Every single one of you knew about me.”

  “That you were a fag?” another voice chimed in. When I turned, I saw Matt. Shorter hair, no beard, but it was a near-identical match. The same eyes, only these were full of ice and disdain.

  “Please don’t,” Matt begged. “Just don’t say that.” He was crumbling quickly, his eyes darting around the room, trying to find an object to place his focus.

  “That you like cock?” he continued.

  “Marc!” their mother hissed.

  At least she had the decency to chime in at some point.

  “Do you want to go?” I whispered, my question for Matt’s ears only.

  His head lifted to meet the three faces in front of us. “This is my fiancé, Fin. We’re getting married and I just wanted you to meet him before that happened.” He turned to me. “Now I’m ready to go.”

  I lowered my hand, allowing him to clasp it before his mother broke character and melted for a moment. “Married?”

  “Yes, Mom. I know none of you approve and I don’t expect you to come to the wedding or anything, but I didn’t want you to find out from anyone else. I came here so that you could meet him and know that I’m happy. You don’t have to understand it, but it’s not some phase I’m going through. This is real.” He looked over at me, squeezing my palm. “We love each other.”

  He turned as his mother reached out, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Matthew,” she cried.

  “Pam!” Max barke
d.

  “Where are you staying? Are you in town?” she blurted.

  “Hotel Monaco,” I responded in haste. “We’re in the Emperor Suite. It’s under MacAuliffe.”

  “Okay,” she said with a nod.

  “Pam!” he shouted again, this time pulling the back of her shirt with an angry fist.

  Matt turned toward his father. “I’m sorry we came. Don’t blame her. I’m sorry for everything.”

  Max said nothing, pulling Pam close. It was not an endearing gesture as a clear look of panic invaded her eyes.

  Go now, she mouthed.

  Matt curled his fingers into mine and led me to the door. He didn’t say another word until we reached our second destination.

  Round two.

  ♂♂

  Carl Sutherlin was a small man, mostly bald with a horrifying comb-over. He acted like he almost expected company, ushering us down the hallway and into an oversized office. Books were strewn everywhere – not on the shelves – their crooked piles taking up nearly half of the floor.

  “Sit,” he said coldly. “What can I do for you? I hope you aren’t trying to renegotiate your contract. You signed it, kid.”

  “No,” I answered for him. “We’re trying to pay it out. I’ve had my lawyers draw up a new contract stating that we have paid you back in full, with interest.”

  I handed him an envelope; he studied it for a second before using a long letter opener to unseal the contents. He peered inside at the check, seeming satisfied. Looking over the new resolution contract for a moment, he put it onto the desk and glared at Matt. “No.”

  “Yes,” I continued. “You have tarnished Matt’s reputation in the league and he accepted that. He never fought you, even though you took his career – not to mention his financial stability – away from him. Three years ago, in his first year, Matt made one-hundred eighty-five thousand dollars. After blackening his good name with the league, he was forced to take a job as a teacher after six months of being unemployed. Now, he makes fifty-six thousand and has a contract with you to pay out twelve thousand a year. I know you weren’t happy about the way things ended with your daughter, but he’s paid his debt now and she’s moved on. My understanding is that she is remarried, correct?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “My point is she’s not sitting around pining for Matt. Let him work again, Mr. Sutherlin. Make the call.”

  “St. Louis already has a full staff,” he responded.

  “Not just with St. Louis. Anywhere. You’ve muddied his character; he won’t be able to work. He’s a good doctor, Mr. Sutherlin. Just let him use you as a personal character reference. That’s all we’re asking.”

  “No one will hire him. He’s been out of work for two-and-a-half years.”

  “No one will hire him because you’ve destroyed his respectability.”

  “Who are you? His fucking lawyer?” he clipped.

  “He’s my fucking fiancé,” Matt answered.

  “Oh, isn’t that sweet?” Tossing the paperwork back onto the desk, he finished with, “Fuck you both. I’m not signing this.”

  “Okay.” I pulled another receipt out of my bag and slid it across the table. “This needs to be signed that you have received the money for Mr. DiFiore’s loan in full. We will collect the other contract and take it back to our lawyers.” I stood, gesturing for Matt to do the same. “We’ll see you in court, Mr. Sutherlin.”

  “Wait.” He nabbed the contract from the desk and looked at it for another few minutes. We continued to stand, carefully stealing glances at each other until Carl picked up his pen and scribbled his name along the bottom of the second page. “You are a fucking con artist.”

  “And you are a fucking narcissist,” Matt responded. “You knew, Carl. I was seventeen and you dangled the carrot in front of me.”

  Carl smiled bitterly. “Well, you did exactly what I predicted you would. Took the fucking money and made Becky look a fool.”

  “You accused me of tampering, Carl. That I had pursued another team’s player at that Pro-Am. I never even spoke to that guy and you knew it. Why?” As he spat the words, fresh tears formed in the corners of his eyes. “For what? Becky?”

  “She deserved better,” he deadpanned. “Now she has it.”

  “You accused me of going to meet him in a hotel. It was my first year! Why would I want to put my job on the line for some other player I didn’t even give a shit about? Whether or not he played for our team made no difference to me. I was the team doctor, Carl. Not the fucking coach. You knew that would end me. And now, no matter where I apply, that doesn’t go away. You lied and I need you to make it right. I didn’t do that – not anything like it – and I need my life back. You have to fix it.”

  “I already said yes to the reference. That’s all you’re getting from me.”

  “I’m begging you, Carl,” he cried.

  “Do you realize that if I say that, I lose my job? All so that you have it easier?”

  “Tell them you misunderstood. It was all a misunderstanding. You just—”

  “I am giving you a reference, Matthew. Please leave before I get the police involved.”

  Matt turned to me as I carefully placed the revised contract and receipt into my bag. “I would advise you to change your mind, Mr. Sutherlin.” I retrieved my phone from my pocket and held it up. “I would hate to have to use this in court.”

  I hadn’t taped anything; yet, the look in Carl Sutherlin’s eyes said everything we needed to know. Matt would get his name back.

  “Get the fuck out of my house,” he flared.

  “Thank you, Mr. Sutherlin.”

  Matt leaned over and pressed a kiss to my lips before turning his back to Carl. As we walked, Matt’s hand snaked out to clasp mine, generating one last groan from Carl Sutherlin’s lips.

  ♂♂

  “You’re a fucking genius. Jesus, did you tape that whole thing?” Matt asked excitedly as he put the car in drive.

  “No.” My breaths were still choppy as my heart nearly beat out of my chest. “I was planning on him saying yes to the whole thing. I wasn’t trying to play dirty or whatever. I was taking tips from fucking cop shows.”

  “Well, it worked.” He smiled widely, finally set free of Carl Sutherlin’s control. The delighted face quickly turned a bit somber. “Now, I just have to figure out how to pay you back instead. I can work out the same payment schedule with you. If I get a job in the league, I’ll be able to pay you back a lot sooner.”

  “Matt, stop.” I had to tell him. If we were to be married, he had to know. “Listen to me. In my trust account, I… I have four-point-eight million dollars.”

  Matt stared out of the window, carefully putting on his turn signal before pulling off to the side of the road. He put the car in park and clicked off his seatbelt. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me, Matt. Don’t make me say it again.”

  “Four-point-eight million dollars?” His fingers gripped the steering wheel, the leather crunching beneath them.

  I nodded. “Yes. I’ve wanted to tell you a hundred times, but I didn’t know what to say. You’ve said over and over that the money stuff bothers you and that you don’t want me to treat you any differently. You hate to talk about money but, the bottom line is, I have it. I’ll have it forever, Matt. If you marry me, you’ll have it too.”

  “I don’t… fuck, Fin. That’s a big pill to swallow.” He finally turned to meet my eyes, swallowing thickly. “You said if I marry you. Have you changed your mind?”

  “No, Matt.” I leaned over the console and kissed him softly, tracing my tongue over his upper lip. He opened for me, touching his soft tongue to mine, before slowly pulling away.

  “Are you sure? About us? If we do this, I have to pay my own way. Please understand that I have to.”

  “What about Christmas?” I asked.

  He gave me a confused glance. “What about it?”

  “Want to get married on Christma
s? It’s a Friday, but that’s okay with me. We could wait until Valentine’s Day, but that’s on a Sunday next year.”

  “You’ve checked into some dates, I see.” Matt blushed, squeezing my hands in his.

  “On my phone earlier today. I guess I always thought it would be fun to be married on a holiday. Plus, we’re teachers… the holidays make the most sense. We’re off until the fourth of January.” I laughed lightly as my heart filled with bliss.

  He buried his fingers through my wavy hair before brushing his lips to mine. “I don’t care where. I don’t care when.”

  “We can go anywhere,” I told him. “Where do you want to go?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “To get married. Where do you want to go?” I studied his face, waiting for the moment to break.

  “Like I said, I don’t care. You pick.”

  “New York,” I suggested. “Christmas night.”

  “That’s only two months away. I need you to be sure, Fin.”

  “I’m sure.” I wrapped my arm around his waist and pulled him closer with a short kiss. “One stop left.”

  ♂♂

  “Gentlemen,” the sales clerk buzzed, “I’m Kathy. And you are?”

  “I’m Matt. This is Fin.”

  She shook our hands with a polite smile. “And what are we here for today?”

  The Tiffany blue accents glittered in the bright lights against modern silver wallpaper. Matt leaned into a glass case and smiled at the petite older woman.

  “We’re getting married,” he answered, looking over to me. “We need matching bands.”

  She clapped her hands together once. “Congratulations to you both. Platinum? Gold? Rose gold?”

  I turned my eyes back to him. “Traditional, I think. Platinum?”

  He nodded. “Nothing too wide or flashy. No diamonds or anything. Just basic, I think.”

  She brought out a few different widths. “Two millimeter… here is two-point-six… three… and this one is four.”

  Matt and I spoke at the same time. “Three.”

  She smiled. “Two is too thin. Four is too wide. Good choice. Let’s measure you both and you can look at some different styles.”