A Full Plate

by Kim Fielding

  “No prayers?” Eddy asked in a slightly mocking tone.

  “Go ahead if you guys want to.” His father’s actions had purged any of Tully’s lingering respect for religion.

  “How about if we just say something we’re thankful for?” Sage offered.

  Tully smiled at him. “Good idea. Eddy, you want to start?”

  Eddy chewed his lips for a moment before giving a quick nod. “Okay. I’m thankful that everything will soon be falling into place so I can achieve my dream. Harrington Sky Pods will be a reality. Thanks in part to my excellent legal representation, of course.” He reached over to pat Tully’s arm.

  “You next,” Sage said to Tully, his eyes a bit narrowed.

  In truth Tully was grateful for many things but settled on a fairly innocuous one. “I’m really glad I get to share a wonderful meal with friends.”

  Eddy patted him again, which was annoying. But Sage caught Tully’s gaze and held it tight. “I’m thankful you gave me a home when I needed one, and hope when it was running out, and confidence when I’d stopped believing. Thank you, Tully.”

  Oh God. It took all of Tully’s will not to leap from his chair and throw himself onto Sage. He wanted to tear off their clothing and drag his tongue over every inch of his skin, to devour him like a feast and—

  Eddy squeezed Tully’s arm. “Sounds like you’ve done Sage a real solid.”

  “Let’s dig in,” Tully said hoarsely.

  The noises of cutlery filled the room for quite some time. Based on the ecstatic little moans of appreciation, an eavesdropper might have thought a really kinky orgy was going on. But it was the best meal Tully had ever had, bar none. Each dish was perfect, a celebration on his palate, and then it would be outdone by the next. Sage watched him carefully, judging his reaction to every bite. Tully knew it wasn’t just the excellent ingredients or even the exquisite skill with which they’d been combined. Sage had put his soul into this meal.

  But why?

  It was Eddy who finally broke the silence. “You two mustn’t let me eat so much I have to be rolled home tonight.” Another little tap on Tully’s arm. “Or else you’re going to end up with me in a coma on your couch.”

  While Tully laughed dutifully, Sage didn’t look amused. “What’s a Sky Pod?” he asked, changing the subject.

  Eddy seemed thrilled to talk about his project. How the pods would ease road congestion and offer busy people the chance to work while they commuted. How they’d be safer than cars. How they’d revolutionize the world.

  Sage listened as he ate, skepticism clear on his face. “I guess maybe these pods might work for rich people like you guys. But what about poor people? Or ones who live in rural areas? What about people who have to haul cattle or lumber?”

  “Those people will still be able to rely on traditional cars.”

  “Yeah.” Sage speared a chunk of turkey with his fork but didn’t put it in his mouth. “But your pods are gonna need infrastructure, right?”

  “Well, yes. The pods need specific areas to land and take off because the air pressure—”

  “Who’s gonna pay for that?”

  Eddy shrugged. “Taxes. Instead of building wider highways, we can funnel tax money for these purposes.”

  “Sure. The politicians in Salem and DC will love that idea because they’re going to be some of your first customers. But families that live in Fossil and John Day and Burns and Bottle Jaw—they’ll be paying too, right?”

  After swallowing a bite of sweet potatoes, Eddy twitched his shoulders. “That’s how taxes work, Sage. I pay for public education, but I don’t have any children. Same principle. All part of the social contract, right, Tully?”

  Tully made a noncommittal noise and reached for more wine.

  Apparently Sage wasn’t through with the topic, though. He pointed the tines of his fork at Eddy. “And you say your pods are safer than cars. Well, great. How about all the poor folks who’re still gonna die in wrecks? You could take all your zillions of dollars and use them to make cars safer instead.”

  “I’ll leave that for other entrepreneurs,” said Eddy in a tone so condescending Tully almost kicked him.

  Another silence fell—blessedly, Tully thought—although Sage and Eddy eyed each other over the table like a pair of prizefighters about to take a swing.

  “Could you pass the mashed potatoes?” Tully asked, hoping to steer things to calmer waters. Besides, the potatoes were delicious—tasting of cream and roasted garlic.

  Sage handed the bowl over, but that focused his attention on Tully. “What kind of work are you doing for him, anyway? Do you know stuff about… pods?”

  “Only what I’ve learned recently. I’m covering the legal aspects.”

  “Like what?”

  When Eddy jumped in to answer, Tully consigned him to his fate and drank more wine. “Well, right now Tully’s helping negotiate habitat exchanges. That’s when—”

  “I know what those are. It’s when a rich guy—or rich company—wants to fuck up some land, so they pay a cash-desperate farmer not to farm some of his land.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t put it quite like that, but essentially yes. It maximizes efficient use of land while preserving habitat overall. In my case, plans call for the unfortunate disturbance of some wetlands. But the exchange will ensure that wetlands elsewhere are created or preserved.”

  “Uh-huh. And the wildlife that live on your land—you gonna spring for a moving van and some change of address cards?”

  Frowning, Eddy opened his mouth to respond. But Tully put up a hand. “I don’t think we’re going to solve these environmental debates over dinner. Can we let it rest for now?”

  Sage winced. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to be rude.” He sighed. “I guess I’m not in the best mood today.”

  Tully smiled at him. “I understand. You’ve been working so hard, and you miss your family.”

  Instead of answering, Sage gave him a searching look.

  Which Eddy interrupted with another fucking arm tap. “You’re right, Tully. You and I have been spending too much time on this anyway. We deserve an evening’s break from it.”

  After that they ate some more and chatted about innocuous things, like the weather and a local architect who’d been in the national news for his innovative designs. Then Eddy talked about windsurfing in the gorge, and Sage seemed politely interested in that topic. In turn Eddy asked Sage’s opinions about various food and drink pairings. Tully mostly sipped his wine and hoped the conversation stayed peaceful.

  He got his wish when the meal finally ended without open warfare. Sage stood and began to clear the dishes, but Tully stood and blocked his way. “Nope. You go relax on the couch. I’m cleaning up.”

  “I’ll help!” exclaimed Eddy, leaping to his feet.

  All three of them ended up clearing the table. Sage put away the leftovers while Tully washed and Eddy dried, and the entire scene would have been nauseatingly cozy if Sage and Eddy weren’t engaging in a subtle and mystifying struggle for Tully’s attention. Sage would ask where to put the remaining sweet potatoes, even though he knew the answer—and the fact that Tully didn’t particularly care. Eddy would touch Tully’s shoulder or quickly pat his back before reminding him of the movie they’d seen together two years ago or asking him how he liked traveling by private jet.

  Tully wished he could drink more wine and wash dishes at the same time, but his attempt to do so resulted in the glass slipping out of soapy fingers and smashing on the floor. Sage insisted on cleaning it up.

  At least they all agreed they were too full to dive into the cobbler and pie yet, and they eventually ended up in the living room. Tully and Eddy sprawled on the couch—Eddy rubbing his stomach gently—and Sage sat in an armchair.

  Full darkness had fallen, but heavy clouds threatened to descend and become fog, obscuring the view. Tully took out his phone and queued up his most relaxing playlist. The soft music wafted through the room’s Bluetooth speakers. If it weren’
t for the tension emanating from his companions, he might have fallen asleep. When was the last time he’d napped?

  “That was truly outstanding, Sage,” he said. “Thank you.”

  “It was a pleasure.” And judging from his expression, Sage meant it.

  Eddy leaned forward. “Tully’s right. It was a wonderful meal. Do you have plans to become a chef, Sage?”

  “No.”

  “Really? I wouldn’t think you’d be satisfied as a line cook.” He said the last words with disdain, and Sage bristled.

  But Tully intervened. “Sage works incredibly hard. His hours are as long as mine.”

  “Yes, but you’re an attorney. He’s—”

  “I chop salads and flip pancakes,” Sage said, his chin jutting.

  For God’s sake. Tully had just about had enough. Any minute the two of them would start beating their chests like silverbacks defending their territory. Or maybe they’d end up hacking him in half like King Solomon’s baby. And although Tully understood why Eddy was acting like a possessive ass, Sage’s answering behavior—which was more than simply defensive—mystified him.

  Tully stood and pointed at Sage. “You feed hungry people and make them happy. And you make a lot of sacrifices to support your family. There is nothing shameful or, or lesser about that. And you”—he turned to point at Eddy—“are a brilliant man, but being rich doesn’t make you any worthier or more interesting than Sage. In the end, maybe you’ll thrill some wealthy people with your pods, and Sage will thrill ordinary people with his food.” And, Tully didn’t add, probably he’d thrill no one with his briefs and memoranda.

  While Eddy’s response was an apologetic nod and a thoughtful frown, Sage nearly melted Tully with his expression. Dear God, that looked like raw desire on Sage’s face.

  Eddy saw it too and laughed softly. “Platonic, you told me.”

  “It is! We are!” Even though there was nothing remotely platonic about the feelings rushing through him at the moment.

  “That kiss wasn’t platonic,” Sage said quietly.

  Instead of anger, amusement settled on Eddy. He leaned back, arms spread, as if waiting for a favorite entertainment to begin. He looked like he was about ready to pull out the popcorn and Junior Mints.

  And Tully—oh hell. He’d drunk just enough wine to unhinge his common sense. He stepped closer to Sage’s chair. “It wasn’t even a distant cousin of platonic. You want to know the truth? I’ve been dreaming of that kiss ever since.” And jerking off to the memory—but his tongue wasn’t quite that loose. “I’ve been wishing like hell I could have more.”

  “But you haven’t done anything about it.”

  “Like what? Rose petals on your bed?” Behind him Eddy snorted.

  That was more than enough for Tully, who was mortified to have an audience for this conversation, especially when that audience was Eddy. He stomped out of the room and to the closet in the foyer, where he grabbed Eddy’s suit jacket and coat. After returning to the living room, he dropped the clothing on Eddy’s lap. “I’m sorry, but I think you’d better leave,” Tully said.

  Looking disappointed but not devastated, Eddy stood. “I’ll give you guys some alone time.”

  Oh, Tully wanted that! But he was also somewhat chagrined to have treated Eddy so poorly. He would have been more chagrined if Eddy hadn’t so doggedly pursued him, but still. “You haven’t had dessert.”

  Eddy chuckled. “I don’t think pumpkin pie is your major priority right now. It’s fine. I enjoyed the meal, and the entertainment was top-notch.”

  Tully and Sage trailed him to the door, where Eddy put on his suit jacket and coat and shook Sage’s hand. “Thank you for a delicious dinner and good conversation. I hope you’ll give serious consideration to doing some catering work. I’d make sure you were a very busy man.”

  Then Eddy turned to Tully. “It was an enlightening evening. I appreciate the invitation. Thank you.”

  “I’m sorry if I was—”

  “Don’t.” He clapped Tully’s shoulder. “See you Monday.”

  And then Tully and Sage were alone.

  The moment was more than a little awkward. They stood in the entryway, not meeting each other’s eyes, Sage rubbing the back of his neck.

  “I, uh, thought you were trying to make me jealous,” Sage said.

  “What?”

  “By inviting him.” Sage jerked his chin toward the closed door. “And he kept touching you. But you were just being nice, weren’t you?”

  “It happens, once in a blue moon. I honestly thought you were… off the menu. But I’m not interested in Eddy.”

  Sage looked at him. “But you’re interested in me.”

  “Yeah.”

  “But you haven’t done anything about it.”

  “You told me to back off, and unlike some people, I can take a hint without being smacked in the jaw. I backed off. Because I get it, I do. You’re in sort of a sticky position right now.” Tully shifted his shoulders as if that would somehow solve everything.

  “Sort of,” Sage answered quietly.

  “Plate’s full.”

  Sage nodded. “Pretty much.”

  Oh, why not be honest and implicate himself for snooping too? “And you have a girlfriend.”

  Sage blinked at him. “A girlfriend?”

  “Yes, dammit. I saw her picture next to your bed. She’s really pretty. Looks like a nice girl.”

  Sage’s expression shifted, and for an awful moment, Tully was afraid Sage was going to cry. Instead he burst into laughter—the deep, uncontrollable kind that made him unable to speak and left him gasping for breath. Tully stared in bewilderment.

  Eventually Sage got control of himself. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he said.

  Tully crossed his arms. “It’s a photo of you with your arm around her shoulders, and you put it right next to your bed. It’s the only personal thing in your room, so don’t try to tell me she’s just a friend or—”

  “She’s my daughter.”

  Tully gaped. “Your daughter?”

  “Kayley Marie.”

  “But you’re too young—”

  “She turned seventeen last month. She looks older, always has. And she’s the main reason my plate’s full. I’m trying real hard to support her, but I can’t do that back home and—” He swallowed. “And I don’t have a girlfriend. Don’t want one. In case that kiss wasn’t a good enough hint, Tully, I’m gay as a unicorn in an Andrew Christian ad.”

  Under other circumstances, Tully would have been surprised at the Andrew Christian reference, but Sage’s underwear preferences weren’t the point at the moment. “Jesus Christ, Sage.”

  The oddest combination of emotions churned within him. He empathized with Sage, forced to live apart from his child, yet felt betrayed that Sage had never mentioned such an important aspect of his life. Although he was joyful to learn that Sage apparently embraced his sexuality and did not have a girlfriend, Sage’s motivations and intentions confused him. Sage stood so close they almost touched. “I’ve been thinking of that kiss too. Wondering if it was a fluke.”

  Tully knew it wasn’t, but hard evidence spoke louder than words. He grasped Sage’s shoulders and leaned in to press their lips together. Sage immediately opened his mouth and wrapped his arms around Tully’s waist.

  Spices and wine and, good Lord, such heat! Sage’s cheeks were scratchy from day-off scruff, his body solid, his embrace strong. The scents of good food emanated from his skin and hair and clothes. Tully’s senses were overwhelmed, his knees weak. And his shriveled little soul expanded like a Magic Grow sponge capsule in water.

  Roughly three seconds before Tully began tearing at Sage’s clothing, they separated and stared at each other breathlessly.

  “Definitely not a fluke,” Sage said hoarsely.

  “We could test it again to make sure.”

  And that would have been a good enough segue into the clothes-ripping, but the lawyer part of Tully’s brain needed a few
more answers before it would shut up. He wondered if you could file a restraining order against part of your psyche. Or sue for alienation of affection.

  He leaned back against the door and took a deep breath. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a daughter?” It didn’t make sense—not only had Tully disclosed hard truths about his own family, but Sage had talked a lot about his father.

  Tucking his lips between his teeth, Sage let his head droop. “Didn’t want… didn’t want you to judge me.”

  “Judge you? For what?”

  “Having a kid when I was way too young. Not being able to support her properly. Abandoning her.”

  “Abandoning? Don’t you just about kill yourself every week so you can go see her? Don’t you work long hours at a job that’s—well, maybe not your ideal—so you can earn money for her?”

  Sage shrugged. “She’s there and I’m here, man. And she can’t…. Kids her age, they want cars and nice clothes, shit like that. I can’t buy her any of it.”

  He looked so miserable standing near the door with his head hanging. He was a strong man who felt like a failure, and Tully couldn’t abide that.

  In a soft voice, Tully said, “No. I had cars and nice clothes when I was seventeen. A summer home in the Hamptons. Vacations in Cannes and Aspen and Fiji.” He worked his jaw for a moment. “And I would have worn rags and lived in a goddamn cardboard box if it meant having a father who loved me.”

  Sage raised his head. “I do love her.”

  “Of course you do. And if she has any sense at all, she knows it. Ten, twenty years from now, what do you think’s going to matter? My dad bought me a Mustang and the newest iPhone? Or My dad sacrificed everything to support me and still made the effort to see me whenever he could?”

  “Yeah. Okay.” Sage sighed. “She’s a great kid. She deserves better.”

  “She has better. She has you.” Tully said that with full conviction.

  After a pause, Sage sighed again, this time a little more happily. “Okay. And now how about some dessert?”

  Chapter Ten