by Amber Nation
He raised a hand halting my backpedaling, “It’s ok, I don’t mind talking about it now. At first it stung a little bit because we had so much time invested, but time has passed and wounds have healed. He’s even moved on…” Ethan turned his head away from me and I could still see the underlying grief. He wasn’t as over it as he led everyone to believe. The least I could do was confide in him and show him that we weren’t alone in all of this. Life does eventually go on.
I really needed to take my own advice.
“Our relationship was solely based on sex.”
“And he wanted more?” My curiosity had truly gotten the best of me.
Fire ignited in his eyes and he bit out his words to me, “What makes you think it was him who wanted more? I’m the type that thinks romance isn’t overrated and sometimes you just needed to talk and be held. It doesn’t always have to be physical.”
I felt my face turn hot as it was undoubtedly turning several shades of red. I was a real heel for jumping to conclusions, but this admission made me want to see Ethan in a different light. I was about romance just as him, sometimes just holding hands was enough for me, it didn’t always have to be about sex.
He cleared his voice of all harshness then continued on with his story. “I was Owen’s first same sex relationship, I had been in relationship’s with both men and women before so it really was nothing new to me.” My eyebrows raised after hearing about his relationships with women, I knew that I had heard through the grapevine that he had actually kissed Emmalynne during seven minutes in heaven back in high school, but this admission was something new. “I knew I was different from the beginning but that didn’t stop me from experimenting, so yes I had relationships with women and have even had sex with women before coming to the conclusion that I was in fact gay.” That was the difference between Ethan and myself, I never had a doubt in my mind that I was gay so I’ve never had a relationship with the opposite sex, it’s only been strictly men for me from the get go.
“Back to Owen, I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him and start a family someday, but evidently he didn’t have those same dreams and aspirations. He wanted to go out into the world and experience other men and what they had to offer.” He took his bottle of coke off of the table and began screwing off the lid. After taking a swift drink, he replaced the cap, “And now he’s met someone new and is getting married.” His glance strayed from mine once again and I couldn’t help but see the glimmer of tears gather in the creases of his eyes.
I went to reach my hand out to him but retracted at the last minute, thinking better of the action. “I was Gio’s first same sex relationship as well. But the difference was, Gio hadn’t come out of the closet yet. I didn’t push him to come out about his sexuality but I hated that he kept holding himself back. He was afraid to tell his family who ended up being extremely supportive of it once he finally told them after we broke up. Behind closed doors he was amazing and everything I could physically want in a man, but it was the way he acted towards me in public that made me think that something was wrong with me. He would push me away and say things about leaving space between us. He didn’t want to be outed as a gay man.”
In the middle of my talking, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and placed it on the table, sending the call to voicemail. I knew who it was, I always did. “The thing with me is, when I love, I love to a fault. I am in so deep and love with my whole heart and he didn’t just feel the same way. But now that he’s told his family and they are supportive, he calls my phone every free chance that he gets. He hurt me so badly that I don’t think I can give him a second chance, it isn’t like he exactly deserves it. It just drives the stake deeper and deeper into my heart that he won’t leave well enough alone. I regret to say that I’m still in love with him but I just don’t see a future for us anymore and he just can’t understand that.” I had taken to flipping my phone around in my hands, not looking at Ethan. I couldn’t really look at him right now, I was feeling low and that wasn’t exactly something that I needed everyone to be witness to.
Toby
The rest of the party went on without incident, more or less. I think at one point I saw Tucker’s little girlfriend, Tiffany. What gave it away was the pink flushed cheeks he sported the entire time she followed him around. Ah, young puppy love, it was hilarious to watch.
It was when Ethan stood up from the table in front of me did I lose my composure. Wrapped around his waist and looped through his belt loops was any ordinary worn brown leather belt, but it was what clasped it together that grabbed my attention. Right smack dab above the bulge in his jeans, the view I had directly in front of me, was a belt buckle. His t-shirt was partially tucked into his jeans so your view was automatically drawn to that buckle.
“Ethan, are you seriously wearing a belt buckle that says that?” I pointed straight to it, not even the least bit embarrassed.
He looked down and wrapped his hands around the buckle tilting it up towards him. All these movements near his package was about to make me combust. It was a damn good thing I was sitting down, if you know what I mean.
“You mean this old thing? It’s a gay bar back where my sister used to live in Minnesota. I was able to visit it a few times,” he explained through his chuckles.
Furrowing my brows, and trying to contain my fit of laughter that was begging to erupt, I read the words straight from the buckle. “Brown Squirrel Bar…Where we hold your nuts.” And that wasn’t it, right in the middle of the pewter square was a frigging picture of a squirrel.
I leaned back in my seat and rolled my eyes before looking up into Ethan’s. “Why gay bars think they need such atrocious names I will never know. Big Pete’s…Brown Squirrel…” I threw my hands in the air, “I rest my case.”
“It was a dodgy old place, nothing really memorable happened there. Wait,” he snapped his fingers, “there was this one time…”
I quickly raised my hand, “ENOUGH!” Stood from my seat and began retreating, giving him a delicious inside look at my derriere, as I strutted out of the building. “I don’t want to hear another word…”
Now it was Saturday night and I found myself sitting on an empty barstool at Big Pete’s with my makeup kit resting on my lap while I waited for Gwen to send for me.
I was officially giving into a woman. The more I thought about it, applying makeup for the dancers, people who understood me, the more the idea of it all made sense. I would be doing something that I absolutely loved, painting a woman up to bring out even more of their beauty. I would say that I was painting their outside to look as beautiful as their insides, but with Gwen I didn’t know if that statement held true.
Most of the time I would just enhance a woman’s natural beauty just making it stand out a bit more, so they could flaunt what they had.
Roman emerged from behind the stage curtain and raised a hand motioning me to come towards him.
I didn’t hesitate in stepping down and gliding my way through the mostly empty bar. It was still early yet, but it was the time I was told to be here for my trial run. I supposed she had such little faith in me that she wanted to make sure that she had enough time to reapply her makeup if need be.
Roman ran a hand along the thick black curtain, pulling it back just enough to make an opening for me to get through. “Straight on back and to the left,” he said while giving me a smirk, “she’s actually in a decent mood today.” I took that to be a head ups, which in a way I was thankful for. I didn’t know how to brace or prepare myself for what would be on the other side of that door so it relieved me to know that she was going to attempt to play nice.
Turning to face the thick wooden door, the only barrier between the She-devil and myself, I hesitantly raised my hand to rap on the smooth grain.
Knock…knock…knock
I didn’t have to wait nearly any length of time at all before I heard, “Come in!” Her voice was slight and didn’t have as near as much power behind it as i
t held the other night.
Turning the handle ever so slowly, I wanted another moment before I could’ve been walking into my immediate death. My nerves were completely on edge and I was second guessing my decision to be here.
I finally tamped down on my anxiety and pushed open the door revealing a small woman sitting in a director’s chair in front of a vanity lined with several white light bulbs.
“Gwen?” I had to ask because she didn’t look like the all mighty presence in which she portrayed the other night. She had somehow lost her luster.
With slumped shoulders, her legs tucked in underneath her, and sullen cheekbones surrounding her dark circles beneath her eyes, she answered, “The one and only…unfortunately.”
Walking towards her and setting my makeup case down on the corner of the vanity, I leaned up against the edge and crossed my arms in front of my chest and one foot over the other.
“Listen, I know we don’t know each other, like at all, but you must know that you look like you could use several weeks-worth of sleep and a good cold cream underneath your eyes. But you are in luck, I’ve brought my own personal special blend that’ll have those dark circles disappearing in no time.”
She looked up at me, her burgundy hair plastered to her head, it needed volume in a big way but that wasn’t my department, and as a single solitary tear fell down her cheek she asked, “Why?”
I darted my eyes around almost confused by her question. So I scoffed, “Because my cold cream is amazing and I always have it in my makeup kit.” Asking me why I brought my own cold cream was almost like asking Tony Hawk why he had a skateboard…
What? Didn’t think I knew who a professional skateboarder was? Eh, I used to have the smallest little crush on him back in the day.
The telltale sign of the smallest of grins began to appear on Gwen’s face, “No, why are you being so nice to me? Offering me your cold cream. I was an outright bitch to you the first time we met.”
I raised a finger to my chin, “Yeah, you really were. But even though I’m a firm believer in first impressions, I’m not exactly opposed to giving second chances.” Halting myself, I needed to reword that ending. In all honesty I wasn’t opposed to giving second chances, hell I gave my parents and brother multiple chances but look where that got me. When dealing with matters of the heart, especially my heart, that was where the fine line can be drawn on second chances. “Well, second chances when they are warranted.”
“You know, someone once told me that if you were ever to be lucky enough to get a second chance, not to waste it.”
That was really good advice, which got me thinking that if I were to give Gio a second chance, would he make the most of it? Would he make it count? Not always did second chances mean a happily ever after for both parties, sometimes it was just a chance to make it right. Did he actually want to be with me, or was he just trying to make things right?
Needing to get Gio out of my head, I opened my kit and took out my cold cream and the concealer that best matched Gwen’s facial tone so I could begin contouring her face to highlight certain characteristics and to combat those dark circles under her eyes.
Other than the purple hues that extended down towards the tops of her cheekbones, Gwen’s skin was absolutely flawless. I loved working with a blank canvas and making something amazing out of it.
“So tell me about Gwen,” trying my best to get her to open herself up to me, tell me a little more about her as a person. I couldn’t quite give her my signature label of doll because I still didn’t have the friendly vibe from her, it wasn’t as if she elicited a forthcoming attitude.
She shrugged her shoulders and her lashes twitched against her skin but she remained as still as could be with her eyes closed allowing me to continue.
“Not really much to tell, I lived a normal childhood with normal parents. I rebelled against living the perfect life and went against all of my parents’ rules and morals. Ran off with a guy who I thought loved me but in fact loved all women if you get my drift. So now I’m here living in a man’s world and trying to get respect as a business owner without getting too far in over my head.”
A low growl erupted from my throat, I placed my hands on Gwen’s shoulders and waited for her to open her dark brown eyes and look at me. “I’m only going to say this once, doll, a woman can do anything a man can do and sometimes even better. But in order to get respect you have to earn it, and it ain’t happening being bitchy all the time. Loosen up, I know things can get stressful but it does nothing to take it out on people.” The shimmer in her eyes that I saw, I knew I was getting through to her. “Find something that you enjoy as a stress reliever, like me for example I enjoy taking bubble baths, singing, shopping, and applying makeup on gorgeous women.” A simple wink ended that conversation, nothing more needed to be said.
“So, what will you be wearing and singing tonight? I would like your eye makeup to make your ensemble.”
The smile appeared back on her face, “I’m wearing a red corset with red stilettos. And singing “Woman’s World” by Cher.”
I let out a gasp and placed a hand over my racing heart, “You and I will get along splendidly if I do say so myself. A woman after my own heart, strutting her stuff on stage and singing Cher.” A mock sadness overcame my voice, “To only be able to dance without looking like a complete fool. It is absolutely a sin for a gay man such as myself not to be able to bust out a marvelous dance.”
“You’re lying, you really can’t dance? I’ve watched you walk and your diva-esque movements, you can’t stand there and tell me that you absolutely cannot dance.”
I raised my arm and had three fingers together, “Scouts honor,” then burst out laughing because the mere thought of me being a boy scout was hilarious. I wouldn’t last one night out in the wilderness and my idea of starting a fire in a bind was using aerosol hairspray and a lighter. “Oh that’s a lie, I’d the worst Boy Scout in history. But I really can’t dance, a friend of mine tried to teach me once…” There was no possible way I could finish that sentence, Tessa really wasn’t the best person to try and teach me anyways.
“She must’ve been a shit teacher then. Walk around the room in your best catwalk way.”
The request was borderline absurd but fashion week was a favorite of mine and I had tried my hand at a model walk a time…or twenty, so what the hell. I laid down the brush I was using on Gwen’s eyes and started my strut. I placed my hands on my hips and wiggled my ass and shook my hips. This walk wasn’t that far off from my normal walk so it was easy as pie to complete.
“Now, let me see you dance.”
A look of pure dread must’ve appeared on my face because she tilted her head back and let out the cutest little giggle. She walked over and placed her phone on a speaker dock and within moments “Naughty Girl” by Beyoncé filled the room. I was convinced that we were musical soul sisters, both having the same taste in music.
Knowing that I could do a few basic movements as I’ve had more than enough practice doing so on stage, I did some twists and turns and even some leg kicks, nothing too extravagant. It wasn’t that I hated to dance, quite the contrary, I loved it. I just wished that I was better.
“Ok, we know that you can master turning, try something a bit more complex.” She stood in front of me and made a movement to where she bent at the waist, brushing her hands up her legs as she stood up and making a little popping with her hips to finish it off.
Raising a brow, she was waiting for me to attempt that little maneuver, when I was fairly certain it was going to end up looking like a car wreck that you just couldn’t look away from.
I tried my best following her dance move, bending at the waist just as her, but somewhere in between pulling my arms up my long legs and popping my hip, something actually popped. Brought a whole new meaning to pop, lock, and drop it.
I knew she was trying her hardest to stifle her laughter but in the end the amusement won and she giggled once again. “Ok, I think I know w
hat went wrong. I don’t have much time before I have to go out on stage, but I want you to think about this. You said that you are a singer, when you listen to the song do you just hear the words or the actual beat? As hard as it may be try tuning out the words for a bit and just let the beat consume you. I know for a fact that you can move, but when you try to dance just stiffen up for some reason. You need to just let your hips move freely and see where it takes you.”
She moved behind a silk changing screen no doubt to change into her costume for her number, “I teach a class tomorrow, it’s at three. You should come. Just wear some kind of workout attire and bring some water,” she added as she threw her jogging shorts over the neck height wall. She really didn’t know me, because I didn’t have anything in my wardrobe that would constitute as workout attire. Those two words weren’t in my weekly vocabulary.
But I was going to take her advice to heart and think about accepting her invitation.
She emerged out from behind the screen with her cherry red corset and took turns placing a hand on the edge of her director’s chair so she could slip her feet into her equally as red stiletto heels.
Finally walking towards the mirror she inched her face closer inspecting my work, “Great work, you really have an eye for detail. And you cannot tell in the least bit that I had rings under my eyes the color of violet.” Squirting a dollop of hair glue in the palm of her hand, she rubbed her fingers together getting an equal amount of the goop on both hands and ran them through her hair making the strands stand up in every which way. Just the simple movement did wonders on her flat, drab hair. If I weren’t an actual witness to this process I would’ve thought it took more than just a few seconds and a hand through the hair. Hell, I took longer time on my hair than that.