Love and Other Hot Beverages

by Laurie Loft

“Todd-o.” And Holly paused for thought, and when she spoke, her voice was grave. “On stage, everything is pretend, and clever lines are written out for you, and punches don’t connect with your jaw. Don’t act like this is some big drama. This is your life, you know? If it’s really not safe for you, then Sebby should understand that.”

  Todd mulled this over, not liking the implications. “I’m a coward. I am.” He smoothed his hair. “The problem is, I am perfectly happy with the status quo. Therefore, I have no motivation to change anything.”

  “But Sebby's not happy. Doesn’t that motivate you?”

  “Apparently not enough. You’re right, though: I should call him.” There’s no guarantee he’ll answer. Even if he is there. “Or text him. Thanks, hon; I'll call you later.”

  Todd began to compose a text.

  Sebby worked late, trying to bury himself in paperwork, but even his orderly columns of numbers could not ease his anxiety. Finally he gave up. After all, he had said he could make plans, so why didn’t he? He texted Barry and Lawrence and convinced them that a movie night at his house would be more fun than clubbing.

  They were several screams and clutches into the movie The Descent when the landline rang.

  “It’s Todd!” Lawrence said, upon viewing the caller ID. He was nearest the phone, and Barry was on the other end of the sofa, the two of them flanking Sebby.

  Why was he calling on the landline? Sebby raised his head from Barry’s shoulder. “Should I answer?”

  “Yes!” Barry and Lawrence declared in unison, and Lawrence grabbed the cordless phone from its dock and shoved it into Sebby’s hands. Barry paused the movie, and both regarded Sebby expectantly.

  “Whatever,” Sebby huffed, and pushed the Talk button. “Hello?”

  “Sebastián. It is I, Todd. You didn’t answer my texts. Are you mad? Can I come over?” Sebby recognized that Todd was echoing his own words back at him, and it made him smile, but before he could answer, Todd went on, “I miss you.”

  “Oh, Todd. I miss you too.” Relief made him go limp and lean back into the cushions. Barry and Lawrence high-fived over his head. Sebby elbowed them. “But maybe not tonight.” Barry and Lawrence shook their heads frantically. Lawrence leaned over the edge of the sofa, and a second later Todd’s voice came over the speaker as Lawrence sat back with a smug look.

  “I understand. I don’t expect you to break plans for me. I’ve been miserable this week, and I unreasoningly felt”—Sebby wrestled his way across Lawrence and turned off the speaker, remaining there, draped across Lawrence’s lap—“that you wouldn’t want anything to do with me.” Playfully, Lawrence tapped the speaker on again. “I’m an ass, and a coward, and—” Sebby slammed his hand down on the speaker button, glaring at Lawrence. Lawrence and Barry raised their eyebrows at each other and giggled behind their hands. “Is someone there?” Todd asked.

  “I have friends over, but I’m not kicking them out just because you don’t want to be alone on a Friday.” Barry and Lawrence’s eyes went wide. They mouthed silent oohs. “I want to see you, but, you might as well know, I’m pissed off. What the fuck was up with you all week? But I don’t want to talk about it on the phone, so are you coming over or what?”

  “I’ll be there directly,” Todd said humbly.

  Sebby’s voice softened. “Good. Um. Okay. I’ll watch for you.” He hung up, sighing.

  “Byeee.” Lawrence hopped up.

  “Sebby said he’s not kicking us out,” Barry reminded him.

  “That was just for show. C’mon.”

  “No, I meant it,” Sebby said. An idea bloomed like a crocus through the snow. It was time to shake things up. Show Todd what he was missing.

  Make him want to stay.

  “This might be your chance,” Sebby said.

  “Ohhh. Our chance.” Lawrence sank back down.

  Barry scooted forward to perch on the edge of the sofa. “This could work! This could work. Okay, he likes musicals, you said. So, do you have any of those around?”

  “I don’t have any makeup on!” Lawrence screeched, his hands flying to his face.

  “Todd doesn’t care for makeup all that much,” Sebby said, and to Barry, “I don’t know, check the shelf.”

  “That’s fine for you and Barry! But I need it.” Lawrence’s fingers walked from his cheeks to his eyes to his hair, to his chin, to his clothes.

  “Oh, Lolly, that’s ridic! You’re as cute as either of us.” Barry put a hand on Lawrence’s shoulder and kissed his cheek. “Anyway, I bet Sebby has makeup somewhere, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know. Probably. Check the bathroom.” Sebby couldn’t focus, couldn’t think. This had to work. He drew his knees to his chest, curled his arms around his legs, and rested his forehead on his knees.

  Lawrence fled, and Barry pounced on the DVDs. A moment passed before he cried out, “This one!”

  Sebby peeked out to see a red and black case, West Side Story. The dance-fight movie, Sebby remembered. He’d never gotten around to watching it with Todd.

  Barry ripped open the case. “We’ll pretend we’ve been watching it, we’ll skip to one of the dance numbers, and press play when he gets here like we’ve just been watching the whole thing.” Turning away, he opened the DVD player, replaced The Descent, and waited for the menu to load.

  Sebby jittered, too nervous to give Barry’s plan due consideration. Barry flicked through the scene selection. Lawrence, having prettied himself up, came bounding into the room. “Ooh, Jets and Sharks!”

  “Can’t do the Jets song, it’s at the beginning. It has to seem like we’ve been watching it all along.” Barry shook his head and went ahead a few scenes.

  “Ooh, we’re setting a trap!” Clutching Barry’s arm, Lawrence bounced, leaning toward the television.

  “This one,” Barry declared, stopping the movie at a number called “Cool.” He punched the volume and stepped back, concentrating on the gang’s dance moves, fingers snapping and feet shuffling. Lawrence giggled and bounced and sang, bumping into Barry and getting in his way.

  Within minutes, the first viewing was over and Barry had reset it to the beginning of the number. Lawrence got down to business, imitating Barry, the two of them nearly identical in their moves, as they were in most things. Sebby watched. For sure Todd wouldn’t be able to resist them this time.

  “Watch for him!” Barry ordered, and Sebby went to stand by the door, pulling back the curtain and gazing out into the dark, waiting for the lights of Todd’s truck to cut their way into the driveway. Behind him, the “Cool” song repeated again and again, and Sebby began to think West Side Story must be the worst movie ever made.

  “He’s here!” he yelled, so loud that the pane of glass in front of his face vibrated. Barry and Lawrence shrieked and fell over themselves as they took their places and reset the song to the beginning. Sebby opened the door and stepped out to greet Todd, who got out of his vehicle and stood, holding on to his truck door, shifting from one foot to another. Sebby beckoned.

  Todd approached, breaking into a run and leaping up the steps to catch Sebby in his arms. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, oh! I’ve missed you . . .” And Sebby was melting into a million pieces, but no, when you melted, you weren’t in pieces—the pieces melted together. Sebby pressed his face to Todd’s neck. Todd froze. “Are you watching West Side Story?” He pulled back and blinked, looking past Sebby through the open doorway, toward the sounds of that song that Sebby never wanted to hear again as long as he lived.

  “We are, yeah. Come on.” Sebby tugged on Todd’s hand.

  “You were watching it without me?”

  Sebby almost confessed all on the spot, Todd sounded so hurt. “Oh . . . Barry found it on the shelf. And I was mad. Come on. Watch it with me.” He towed Todd through the doorway, and Todd blinked again at the spectacle of Barry and Lawrence, hunched over into their dance routine, snapping their fingers and doing kick ball changes or whatever. Sebby watched Todd’s face closely, watched h
is eyes dart from the dancing boys to the television screen, to Sebby, and back to the boys.

  “Are you hungry?” Sebby asked.

  “W— No. No, I ate.” Todd rubbed the bridge of his nose and pushed at his glasses. His face changed slowly, almost comically, from hurt and confusion to curiosity and approval. Barry and Lawrence, conscious of their audience but keeping their eyes locked on each other, moved in an almost mirror image dance, though Barry’s movements were more controlled, more contained, like the characters on screen, while Lawrence’s were broad and easy, as if at any moment he might lapse into the hokey pokey. The number ended, and Todd applauded, grinning. The boys collapsed against each other, panting and chuckling.

  “I’m sorry to arrive late for this viewing. I can see that I’ve missed a great deal.”

  “With us it’s interactive,” said Lawrence.

  “We can back up,” Barry offered. Sebby caught the double meaning, and he doubted that it got past Todd.

  “If you want to do it with us,” Lawrence added.

  “The Jets song? You can be Riff,” Barry said.

  The movie was set back. Assuming the roles of gang members, Barry and Lawrence flanked Todd, and the game was on. Sebby faded back into the upholstery, watching the three of them. Todd hammed it up, at one point leaping onto the ottoman. The two boys cheered, and Todd dismounted, though thankfully he didn’t try to do a flip in the air like Riff in the movie did.

  They moved with greater and greater abandon, with air punches and flying kicks that made Sebby fear for his bric-a-brac. The number ended, and Barry opted to skip the boring parts and go right for the action. As they moved on to “Mambo,” which involved couples dancing, Todd partnered them, taking first one, then the other into his arms. Sebby remained quiet, noting how Todd’s attention turned to him less, and how Barry and Lawrence moved closer and touched him more often. The room was filled with their merriment and shouts. The next song they selected was so silly that they couldn’t sing for laughing, and it brought the house down. The three of them collapsed to the floor, puffing and wiping sweat from their faces. Lawrence clung to Todd’s arm, and Todd’s free arm was draped over Barry’s shoulders, while Barry’s hand rested on Todd’s knee. Sebby averted his eyes and took advantage of the moment to slip away to the kitchen.

  He set about grinding beans and hunting through his cupboards for something to eat. His hope was that Barry and Lawrence would now invite Todd home and he’d go, without Sebby having to be involved at all. He would fix himself a snack, curl up, watch the rest of The Descent, and go to bed and have crazy nightmares.

  From behind him came Todd’s familiar tread, and Sebby turned to see him in the doorway, eyes bright, face flushed, hair damp. Had he come to ask permission? To say good night? Todd’s eyes followed the motion of Sebby’s fingers. “Are you making coffee?”

  He wanted coffee now? “You don’t want any, do you?”

  “I always want coffee. But, at the moment, I long for water.” From the refrigerator, Todd fetched three bottles of water, unscrewed the cap from one, and drank it half down. “You’re quiet tonight,” he said, gasping a little, before gulping the rest of the bottle.

  “Been a quiet week, no?” Sebby softened his words with a smile. “It’s fun watching you with them.”

  “Barry and Lawrence are quite fun when they aren’t attempting to get into my pants.”

  Sebby had to turn away to hide his smirk.

  “About the quiet week . . .” Todd had set aside the bottles of water and come up behind Sebby, and his arms snaked around Sebby’s waist. There was a not unpleasant smell of dance sweat. “You did ask what was up with me all week.”

  “Are you seeing someone?” Sebby kept his tone casual. “It’s okay if you are, but I’d like it if you’d tell me.”

  Todd pulled him even closer against himself. “No. I’m seeing you and you alone.”

  Arching backward, Sebby reached up and behind to tangle his fingers in Todd’s hair, and Todd’s hand slid up Sebby’s rib cage.

  “It’s harder than I thought,” he whispered.

  “Is it?” Sebby laughed and pressed his rear back into Todd’s front. “I can’t tell.”

  But Todd didn’t laugh. “It’s harder than I thought . . . coming out.”

  “I knew that was it!” Sebby exclaimed, and he wiggled in Todd’s grasp, turning around to stroke his cheeks and tuck loose strands of hair behind Todd’s ears. He pressed a kiss to the corner of Todd’s mouth; the taste was salty. “Todd, I don’t care. I’m sorry I nagged you. When you’re ready, it’ll be okay.”

  “I can hardly call that nagging.” Todd looked so worried. Oh, he was the worryingest boy. Sebby told himself that he should be more careful what he said to Todd. “You told me how it bothered you, you recommended I stop lying, and I promised I’d tell them. I promised!”

  “Shh. I didn’t ask you to promise.” Sebby put a finger over Todd’s lips and then kissed him in earnest, and Todd’s hands roamed over Sebby’s back and then his front, and Sebby squeaked in surprise when Todd’s hands gripped hard under Sebby’s armpits, hefting him and plonking him down on the counter. He wrapped his legs around Todd, and Todd leaned in, pressing Sebby backward, one hand cradling his head. Sebby forgot for a moment that he was supposed to be sending Todd off with Barry and Lawrence.

  Over Todd’s shoulder, Sebby spied Lawrence jitterbugging in the kitchen entrance, smiling, his lower lip caught between his teeth. Lawrence waved. Byeee, he mouthed.

  The plan. There might never be another chance like this. Todd needed to realize what a good thing he had here. The three of them combined had to be better than Vivian. No, Sebby mouthed back, and beckoned with one finger as he tightened his legs around Todd. Lawrence glided forward to lean against Todd and slip his arms around the two of them.

  Todd tensed, his head jerking up. “Hey!”

  He tried to pull away, but Sebby wouldn’t let go, and Lawrence pressed close against Todd’s back. Taller than either of them, Lawrence rested his cheek against Todd’s hair, and he swayed from side to side. Sebby did the same, the two of them rocking Todd. Smiling reassuringly, Sebby let go with his legs to allow Lawrence to press closer, and Todd shivered; his face contorted, his eyes squeezed shut. Trembling, he hid his face in Sebby’s neck.

  Lawrence leaned forward as well, his body following Todd’s, as if they were molded together. Over his bent shoulder and Todd’s bent head, Sebby spotted Barry where Lawrence had stood earlier, his expression anxious, his eyebrows raised. Sebby gestured him away; Wait, Sebby thought at him, and Barry swayed in sympathy where he stood.

  Lawrence shifted, and Sebby couldn’t tell what Lawrence was doing, but Todd’s reaction was to tighten his arms around Sebby so violently that the air was forced from Sebby’s lungs in a grunt.

  “Don’t you like me?” Lawrence’s voice was small and wistful.

  “It is not a question of liking you, Lawrence, but of liking Sebby more.”

  His lips near Todd’s ear, Sebby whispered, “Liking me doesn’t preclude you from liking other people.” Preclude, that was a word Todd liked to use. “I want you to go with them.” He nuzzled Todd’s ear, his hair, his face.

  In turn, Todd pressed his lips to Sebby’s ear. “I want you. You,” he insisted.

  “We just want to be good to you,” murmured Lawrence. “For two things. ’Cause Sebby asked us to, and ’cause we like you.”

  “A lot,” Barry remarked from the doorway, and Todd twisted to see.

  “I am assaulted on all fronts,” Todd said soberly.

  “You have more than one front?” Lawrence said.

  “Just what we need,” said Barry.

  Feeling Todd tensing again, Sebby spoke. “Guys, can you give us a minute?”

  Barry nodded, and Lawrence moved away, his arm lingering as it slid from around Todd’s body. Taking Barry’s hand, he towed him into the hallway.

  The moment they were out of sight, Todd dropped into a kitche
n chair and wilted, laying his head down on his folded arms. “This whole thing was a setup.”

  “Only kind of.” Sebby hopped down from the counter. Drawing a chair close to Todd’s, Sebby sat and put his hand on the back of Todd’s neck. “Toddfox, I want you to go with them. It’ll be good for you, yes?”

  “No. Why?”

  Sebby hesitated. “How many boys have you been with since Vivian?” That brought Todd’s head up, but he just stared. “You don’t want to tell me. And it’s not because there’s been so many.”

  The lines of Todd’s throat flexed as he swallowed. “Am I less of a man for having had less men?”

  Smiling, Sebby smoothed Todd’s worried brow. “Why so few? What I think is, deep down, you believe he’ll ask you back, and when you go back, you’ll feel proud that you’ve only had X-many boys between Vivians.”

  Todd shook his head and dislodged Sebby’s hand.

  “And you could feel righteous if your number is lower than his.” Sebby sat back and ducked his head. “Every boy you’re with separates you a little more from Vivian, no? And I’m for anything that does. I try and try, but I can’t make you forget him.”

  “A thousand boys could not make me forget him. Any more than they could make me forget you.”

  Todd was probably sincere, but it still made Sebby feel like second-best, that Todd would add it as an afterthought. Sebby could’ve screamed his lungs out. “You need some fun. Loosen up. Just go fuck them and come back and tell me how much you hated it and I’ll never mention it again.”

  Todd peered at Sebby. “You’re hiding something from me. What do you think our relationship will gain if I sleep with them?”

  Sebby raised his eyes to Todd’s and realized that there were many things he kept from his lover, and that it all stemmed from keeping one thing from him, the most important thing, a secret that shouldn’t be kept, not from the one person who should know. Todd must have seen something in Sebby’s eyes; he leaned forward, and Sebby, before things could get dangerous, planted a kiss on his cheek and continued briskly. “Me and Barry and Lawrence have always shared. When we were just kids, safety in numbers, yes?” Sebby laughed as he realized the double meaning to himself: he loved numbers, they were his refuge. “Later, it wasn’t so much about that, but if one of us found someone nice, we’d share a good thing. It’s hard for me, Todd, to have someone and not share. It’s like all the time I’m thinking how much they’d like you, and I feel guilty.”