“I figured that was OK, I’d just quit. Then the executive producers of her show cal ed me. They made it clear how connected and powerful they were. They said it was their job to keep Yvonne happy. If having me there for her to kick around did that, that’s what was going to happen.
“They made it clear that if I quit, I’d never work in the industry again. They’d tel everyone how badly I fucked up. I mean, let’s face it, I booked her with a guest who assaulted her!”
“Wel , I wouldn’t cal it assault, exactly,” I offered.
If looks could kil , Andrew’s would have been guilty of firstdegree murder.
“Yeah, wel , the producers would cal it assault.
Let’s be honest here, Kevin, so would most people. If someone didn’t know what Yvonne did to provoke your mother, it would just look like your mother was a crazy person who I put in a position to attack the princess of talk TV. Some producer I am, right? It’s my job to screen our guests. Who’d hire me now?”
“I guess Yvonne thinks most people would consider it assault, too,” I admitted. I told Andrew about Yvonne’s plan to sue my mother for everything she had. Al of which probably wouldn’t be enough to pay Yvonne’s monthly dry-cleaning bil s.
“She’s so fucking evil.” Andrew banged his fist on the table. “I can’t tel you how horrible it’s been to work with her these past few days. She openly insults me in front of everyone, cal s me stupid or
‘faggot’ or, when she’s real y riled up, ‘maricón.’ She has me run some ridiculous errand for her, like fetching her a café latte and, when I bring it to her, throws it in my face, insisting she asked for a café mocha. It’s so fucking humiliating.
“The worst part is, I’m completely trapped. My life is ruined and it sounds like she’s going after your mother, too. I’m the one who’s sorry, Kevin; I should never have dragged you and your family into this.”
Andrew rubbed at his eyes. I couldn’t tel if he had tears there or if he was just exhausted. He gave a bitter little laugh. “Al because I wanted to see you again, Kevin. ’Cause I wanted to get into your pants.
Maybe Yvonne is right. I do think with my dick.”
“Listen,” I said to him. “The only thing Yvonne is right about is not letting you quit. Because you’re probably the best producer she’l ever have. You think that show is a hit because of her? No way. It’s how you package and present her that works.
Making that nasty skank into America’s sweetheart takes a special kind of magic, Andrew, and you’re the guy who makes it happen. I bet she knows that on some level, and that’s the real reason she won’t let you go.”
Something related to a smile, maybe a third cousin, struggled across Andrew’s lips. I think my little pep talk helped. But I wasn’t done.
“About everything else,” I continued, “Yvonne is dead wrong. And you know what her biggest mistake was? Fucking with my friends and family.
I’ve spent my whole life standing up to bigger bul ies than her. That bitch is going down.”
Now, the smile on Andrew’s face was halfway there. “Little tough guy, huh? Nice fantasy, Kevin. But she’s rich, powerful, and protected. How are you going to fight back against someone like her?”
“Actual y,” I said, “I have an idea.”
Andrew listened to me intently. As I explained my plan, he got increasing agitated, nodding and, eventual y, smiling for real. It was nice to see.
“That just might work, Kevin. Holy shit. We might have her.”
I grinned and pointed to my head. “Pretty and smart.”
Andrew jumped out of his seat and slid next to me.
He acted like his old self—athletic, graceful, and quick. Welcome back, buddy.
He threw an arm around my shoulder and pul ed me toward him. His body felt warm and strong. I remembered just how muscular he was.
“You are a genius, Connor. I am total y, hopelessly, and forever in love with you. You have to come home with me right now. I’m going to screw you so hard you’re going to see stars.”
OK, maybe Yvonne was right about one more thing: Andrew real y did think with his dick. If we stayed in contact when this was al over, I was going to have to work on that with him.
“You could do that,” I said. “Or you could check out my idea and see if it’l work.”
“Arrghh,” Andrew said. “Decisions, decisions.” But I could see he was dying to find out if I’d just handed him a Get Out of Hel Free card.
I kissed him on the cheek. “Go do what you need to do, Mil er. You know how to find me.”
“And we can get it on then?”
I was pretty sure the answer was no, but, I figured, let him live in hope. I gave him the answer I use on the toddlers in Sunday school whenever they make an unreasonable request. “We’l see.”
“I’l take that as a yes!” Andrew said triumphantly.
Yeah, the three-year-olds take it as yes, too. Ah, kids. Then, he added, “Unless you’re stil stuck on that screwed-up cop your mother told me about.”
Not for the first time that week, I thought, Thanks, Mom. “He’s not screwed up. He’s just not up to a commitment right now. We have an open relationship.”
Andrew pumped his fist. “You guys have an arrangement? Score one for the home team!” he shouted. I saw a few of the other customers look at him questioningly. We were in a sports bar after al .
What game was he watching?
Andrew leapt up from the table again, ful of energy and enthusiasm. He took my face in his hands and planted a long, hard kiss on my lips.
What the hel , I kissed him back. When he pul ed away, I gave him a little push. “What are you waiting for, boy? Go!”
Andrew looked at me for a moment, and I think it was the first time he saw me as something other than a receptacle for his cock. He looked at me like a friend. “Thank you,” he said.
He ran to his friends at the other table. “Guys, we have to cal Gabe. Anyone have his number?”
32
Some Good Things Never Last
I walked home feeling pretty good. I couldn’t exactly put it on my resume, but helping Andrew reminded me I have talents that don’t involve the emission of bodily fluids.
Even if my plan didn’t pan out, at least Andrew wasn’t moping around like the living dead anymore.
I didn’t know what I was going to do about Tony. It was clear he’d been keeping something from me for a while now. But I didn’t want to confront him about it.
Our relationship was tentative and fragile as it was. I was pretty sure that if insisted on a truth he wasn’t ready to share, whatever we had would fal apart.
I wasn’t ready to lose him.
I resolved not to say a word about the movie ticket I’d found. Tony’d tel me the truth when he was ready.
I could wait.
What had Lucil e from Locke’s office said? Those who are patient inherit what has been promised.
Wel , no one had promised Tony to me, but I intended to col ect anyway.
Speak of the devil.
When I got to my door, Tony was waiting outside, looking al kinds of gorgeous in his brown corduroys and beige turtleneck. “Hey, kiddo,” he said, “I was just about to give up on you.”
“Why didn’t you cal ?”
“I was in the neighborhood. I’ve only been here five minutes. Figured I’d see if I could surprise you.”
“OK,” I said. I looked at him standing there, six feet two inches of Italian pony boy whom I’ve loved from the moment I laid my eyes on him.
Such a good man, he was. A cop, for God’s sake.
Struggling with his sexuality not because he hated gay people, but because he didn’t want to disappoint his family and friends. Because he wanted to “be good.”
But why did being good have to preclude being mine? Did he think of me as a bad thing?
For the first time I could remember, I didn’t want to touch him. As solid and strong as he was, I felt like my embrace would ma
ke him disintegrate like a ghost.
Tony noticed my standoffishness. “So, um, happy to see me?”
“Why did you lie to me?” I asked.
Wow. I didn’t expect to say that. In fact, I had just resolved not to say that.
But as my friend JoAnne used to tel me, if it’s on my lung, it’s on my tongue. For better or worse, I can’t keep my feelings bottled up. They spil .
A cloud passed over Tony’s face. “What are you talking about?”
“About seeing Super Rangers. You told me you’d never see that movie. But I found a ticket stub in your pocket. So, why did you lie to me, Tony?”
“That? That was nothing.” Tony walked toward me and started to put his arms around me. “Come on, let’s talk about it upstairs.”
“No,” I said, pushing him away, suddenly furious.
“Let’s talk about it here, Rinaldi. ’Cause the thing about it is”—I felt myself start to choke up and I swal owed hard—“you’re the person who doesn’t lie to me. You’re the person I trust, Tony. So, why?”
“Kevin.” Tony tried stepping closer and I backed away.
“Why?”
“It’s nothing.”
But he wouldn’t look at me when he said it, and I knew what that meant. “You’re stil lying, aren’t you?”
“Can we have this discussion in your apartment, please?”
For some reason, the last thing I wanted was to talk about this inside. I had a feeling something very toxic was about to be released, and I didn’t want it in my home. This needed to be aired out here, in the fresh evening breeze, where there was a chance it could blow away.
“No.”
Tony’s lips set in a straight line, becoming thinner and more strained as they did. His eyes narrowed and appeared darker. “Al right,” he said. “I lied, OK. I saw that stupid movie. Big fucking deal, Kevin. Can we get on with our lives now?”
Why do we tell small lies? I remembered thinking earlier. To distract from the big ones.
“Who did you see it with, Tony?”
“Kevin, we agreed not to talk about . . .”
“Who the fuck did you see the movie with, Tony?”
The voice that came out me didn’t sound like mine.
“It doesn’t matter, Kevin.”
The evening wasn’t cold, but a chil ran through me. I felt the blood drain from my face. “There’s someone else, isn’t there?”
Tony’s eyes widened and he sucked in his breath.
He looked at me with the face of a stranger. “Yes, Kevin. There’s someone else.”
“Huh.” I felt myself starting to tear up. I didn’t want to say what I said next, but I felt like I’d come down with a sudden case of Tourette’s, and I knew there was no stopping me now. “It’s serious, isn’t it?”
Tony worked his jaw from side to side. “Yeah, it’s serious, Kevin.”
“Serious in a way that means we can’t be together?”
“I don’t know. I’m trying to figure that out.”
“And when were you planning on tel ing me that, Tony?”
“Kevin, you know I don’t want to hurt you. . . .”
“Oh my God,” I yel ed. “Do you get paid every time you say that? Because that’s always your excuse for holding back, for not being honest, for leaving! For a guy who doesn’t want to hurt me . . .”
I guess to be a cop, you had to be quick, because before I even knew what was happening Tony had taken the three steps toward me and had me in his arms. “Don’t say it,” he said in my ear, his cheek pressed hotly against my forehead. “Please.” I felt tears running down my face and realized, with a shock, that they were his.
We stood like that for a while, Tony shaking in my arms.
How do you know if it’s love or pain?
“I love you so much,” Tony said into my hair. “So much.”
“I know,” I said, stroking his hair.
Slowly, as if through some strange magic, I felt as if the power in our relationship was transferring from him to me. I ran my hands over his back and tried to soothe him. “It’s OK, it’s OK,” I comforted him.
Tony was a good man. One lie, even a big one, didn’t make him otherwise. Despite his tears, I knew he was a strong man, too. In one way or another, he was always going to be there for me.
What he wasn’t, though, was ready. Whether he wasn’t ready to be with another man, or ready to commit to me specifical y, or ready to give up his dreams of a perfect suburban family, or ready to stand up for our love, I didn’t know.
And you know what? It didn’t matter. The bottom line was, he just wasn’t ready.
If I had to be honest with myself, and this seemed like as good a time as any to start, this whole open relationship thing he wanted wasn’t working for me, either.
It wasn’t about the sex. If Tony wanted, or needed, to screw someone else every once in a while, I couldn’t care less. Maybe we’d even have merry threesomes one day. As long as I got my share, he could do with his dick as he pleased.
But Tony’s heart? That, I wanted. I wanted al of it.
Damn it, I thought, I’ve earned it. I’ve certainly waited long enough.
I wanted to share my life with Tony. Not a few guilty evenings a week.
Tony’s trying to keep me in his life was kil ing him.
It was making him into someone he didn’t want to be. He didn’t want to lie to me, and he didn’t want to hurt me. But here he was, keeping secrets and breaking my heart into a hundred mil ion pieces.
Maybe someday we’d both be ready.
But not today.
Truth was, I’m the one thing Tony couldn’t be strong about. I guess it was my turn to man up.
I let go of him. “You need to work some things out, Tony. You need to figure out where you want to go.
But, you’re never going to find your path if I’m standing in your way. So . . .” I pointed to my front door. “I’m going to go. And you’re going to decide what you want.”
Tony cocked his head to the side. His eyes were wet and red. “Kevin . . .” he began.
“No,” I said, “I’m fine with it. I understand.” I put a hand on his cheek, because I knew what I was about to say was going to hurt him.
“But I’m done. No more halfway, Tony. If you come back, I want al of you. No reservations, no ambivalence, no ‘someone elses.’ No secrets. Not from me. Not from anyone. That’s the deal, Rinaldi.
“There are some things in life you have to pay a price for, Tony. I’m one of them. You can’t have it both ways forever. You have to choose.”
“I can’t imagine not seeing you.”
“I know the feeling.”
“The worst part is,” Tony said, his voice trembling,
“I know you’re right. I’m cheating you out of so much that you deserve. And I want to give it to you. It’s just .
. .”
I put my finger to his lips. “If it’s right, Tony, if it’s real, I’l be here. When you’re ready.”
A single tear spil ed down his cheek. “What if you’re not, Kevin? What if, by the time I figure out al the . . . moving pieces in my head and heart, what if you’re not here anymore? What if you’ve moved on?”
I tried my best to smile. “Wel , don’t drag it out, Tony.”
He chuckled through his tears. “Kevin, I know it’s not perfect between us, and I know I have my issues, but I can’t, I can’t just leave.”
Man up, Connor.
“I know,” I said. “But I can.”
And I did.
The short walk to the front door of my apartment building felt like a hundred-year march. At every step, I had to force myself not to turn around. Not to look back.
Never in my life have I had to so consciously wil my legs to move. Walk, I commanded them. One step in front of the other. Now another. Another.
One more.
As I reached the door, I thought I heard Tony cal my name, but it might have been the wind or my own sad
heart beating the sound of his voice.
I didn’t look back.
I made it to my apartment just in time to explosively throw up in the kitchen sink. I don’t know why they cal the pain of a breakup “heartache.” It always hits me in the gut.
As I was cleaning up, the phone rang. Tony?
Already? For a moment, I was fil ed with joy.
I looked at the cal er ID. It was Andrew.
I figured he must be cal ing to let me know if my plan worked.
It was pretty simple, real y. I remembered that on the day of my mother’s taping, Andrew and I were able to watch the incident between her and Yvonne on a monitor because the cameraman—Gabe, as Andrew had reminded me—had accidently left his camera running during a break. If Gabe stil had that film, Andrew could use it to get the producers to back off him—and my mom.
They couldn’t take him to court with that in his back pocket. Anxious as I was to hear Gabe’s answer, I couldn’t talk to Andrew right now. I leaned against the counter until my iPhone beeped to let me know I had a voice mail. I hit “play.”
“Hey, babe,” Andrew said. He definitely sounded better than when I first saw him this evening, but not ecstatic. “Bad news. Gabe didn’t keep the digital videotape. But it was worth a shot. And it got me out of my funk, man. Maybe we’l come up with something else. And don’t forget—my other offer stil stands. Cal me if the ambivalent cop isn’t meeting all your needs, sexy.”
Ugh. I was about to throw my phone against the wal when an alert came that I’d received an e-mail from Jason Carter. I gave him a fake e-mail on my application, part of Marc Wilgus’s new identity for me, but Marc set it to forward to my regular account. I figured I’d better check what Jason had to say:
“Wanted to let you know that it looks like the meeting between you and Jacob Locke is going to have to be put off for a while. He got a great opportunity to speak at a Christians for a Brighter Future fund-raiser in DC tomorrow, and he’l be flying out in the morning. He’s on the road for two weeks after that, but I’m stil planning on getting you two together when he gets back, sometime in December. I hope you stil can come by around noon tomorrow, though. We could real y use your help.
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