A Full Plate

by Kim Fielding

  “I’m going to go pony up,” Tully said.

  Sage eyed the crowd forming near the table. “I’ll wait for you here. Maybe I’ll have another one of those vols-au-vent. I’m trying to figure out what herbs they used—there’s something interesting in there.”

  “Maybe brussels sprouts.” Tully winked at him. “Is it okay if I write that the donation’s from you too?”

  “I can’t afford—”

  “If we’re going to have this… thing we have, even if it’s only temporary, let’s treat it like a real thing, all right? Share and share alike. Which means it doesn’t matter that the money’s coming from my account, because what’s mine is yours.”

  “Kind of an uneven exchange, don’t you think?”

  “I really, really don’t.”

  Sage gestured with his chin. “Go be Mr. Moneybags. Then can we go home so I can take off the monkey suit?”

  “Best plan I’ve heard in ages.”

  Tully waited in line at the donation table. He didn’t know the people nearest him, but that was fine. He kept glancing back to Sage, who wore a thoughtful expression as he sampled more hors d’oeuvres.

  Finally Tully reached the front of the line. He carefully printed his name and Sage’s on a yellow card, and in the space for the donation amount, he wrote $5,000. It was a lot of money but for a good cause. He dropped the card in the basket and received a warm smile from their hosts.

  Tully started to return to Sage but had gone only a few feet when Eddy grabbed his arm.

  “I hope you dug deep, Tully. For the families of sick kids.”

  Tully removed himself from Eddy’s grip but didn’t walk away. “I gave a few bucks.”

  “Good. I see your arrangement with Parsley is still working out.”

  Tully narrowed his eyes. “You know perfectly well that’s not his name.”

  “Whatever. He cleans up nicely.” Eddy’s words were a bit slurred, and he swayed a little.

  Tully realized Eddy had imbibed rather more alcohol than was prudent. “Go home and sober up, Eddy.”

  “Not yet. And when I do go home, I’ll have that with me.” He waved vaguely in the direction of the young man he’d been standing with earlier. The youth was slouching decoratively against a wall, deep in conversation with an equally beautiful boy. Models or would-be actors, Tully guessed. Or maybe male escorts. They both looked as if they spent a lot of time at the gym—and in front of mirrors, perfecting their pouts.

  “That’s great, Eddy.”

  “I’m going to fuck him so hard he won’t sit comfortably for a week.”

  “That’s… lovely. You two kids have fun.” Tully turned away, but Eddy caught him again.

  “What’s the deal with him, Tully? I guess he’s cute enough, but you could pick up better in any club in town.”

  Slugging Eddy in the middle of a charity gala was probably a bad idea. Especially since Tully was pretty sure the man a few yards away was the chief of police. “Go sober up.”

  Eddy retained his grip on Tully’s arm. “Why is he here?” Eddy asked.

  “Because I love him.” There. Turned out that wasn’t painful at all.

  “Love? I’m surprised at you. You’re usually such a clear thinker. I understand that the way to a man’s heart might be through his stomach, but be realistic. You have nothing in common with that… hayseed.”

  Tully wrenched his arm away with such force that he felt stitches pop in the shoulder seam of his tux. He ground out a reply through gritted teeth. “I’ve made a commitment, so I’ll finish your legal work. But Sage and all aspects of my personal life are off-limits. You venture one inch outside professional territory and I’m gone. Got it, Mr. Harrington?”

  Suddenly Eddy looked both sober and forlorn. “Got it,” he whispered.

  Tully stomped away.

  “What the hell was that?” Sage demanded as soon as Tully got near him.

  “Idiocy. Are you ready to go home?”

  Sage took Tully’s arm—gently—to examine the seam. “It’s ripped.”

  “I’ll add the repairs to his bill.”

  “Is he still trying to get into your pants?”

  “I guess.”

  “Not interested?”

  Tully grabbed Sage’s hips and drew him close. “I’m interested in you. And only you. I wouldn’t trade you for a truckload of Eddy Harringtons, not even if they came with all his millions and a goddamn Jetsons car besides.”

  Sage’s eyes smoldered. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Etiquette would normally have demanded they thank their hosts and say goodbye, but the band had started playing again and the host and hostess were gracefully dancing together. No problem. Tully would email his regards in the morning. Grasping Sage’s hand, he led the way to the coat check. If Eddy was watching them, Tully didn’t notice and didn’t care.

  Chapter Twelve

  TULLY had become accustomed to Sage waking him up by climbing into bed in the wee hours, then snuggling his naked body against Tully’s. Sage would smell of hamburgers and french fries, and Tully would snuffle happily at his hair until they fell asleep. Or made love and then fell asleep.

  But one early morning when Sage got under the covers, bringing with him a bit of the early March chill, something other than ardor shook Tully out of his grogginess. “Isn’t it Sunday?” he said with a jaw-cracking yawn.

  “Monday, technically, but yeah.”

  “Then why aren’t you on your way to Hair Shaker?”

  Sage’s sigh made his entire body shake. “Old Bessie’s radiator is DOA. Big old hole.”

  Tully propped himself on one elbow but couldn’t make out Sage’s expression in the dark room. “That’s bad, huh?”

  “Made a big puddle of coolant in your fancy garage. Don’t worry, I cleaned it up. And I won’t be going anywhere until I find a new one. This guy at work, Gabriel, he thinks his brother’s got one that’ll work, and he might be willing to give me a decent deal on it. But he won’t be able to get it to me until Thursday or Friday.”

  “Take the Tesla, then.”

  “Your car?”

  “Sure. I can do without it for a few days.” Depending on the weather, he could walk to work or take a cab. And if he desperately needed to go anywhere outside of the city, which was unlikely, he could rent a car.

  “That baby cost you over a hundred grand.”

  “So?”

  “I can’t borrow your hundred-thousand-dollar car.”

  Tully dropped a kiss on Sage’s cheek. “Of course you can. And you should.”

  “What if I wreck it?”

  “As long as you’re not hurt, no big deal. It’s insured. And it’s just a car. It doesn’t even have a name.”

  After a moment, Sage rolled onto his back and pulled Tully down on top of him. “You should give it a name. What’s a good one?”

  Tully considered. “Benjamin,” he said firmly.

  “Why Benjamin?”

  “After a Supreme Court justice from the 1930s. Benjamin Cardozo. Get it? Cardozo?”

  Sage groaned and gave Tully’s ass a healthy squeeze. “That’s awful. Now I know why you’re a lawyer and not a stand-up comic.”

  “Aw. I was counting on that as my backup career. Go show Benjamin what Hair Shaker looks like. Introduce him to a sheep or two. Or better yet? Find a straight, empty road, strap Kayley into the passenger seat, and demonstrate to her how fast Benny accelerates. I’ll represent you for any speeding tickets you accumulate.”

  “I don’t even know how to start that thing. And I sure as hell don’t know how to work all the buttons and shit inside. Or how to charge it.”

  “I can give you a quick lesson. It’s not much more complicated than your beloved food processor.”

  Sage was silent and still, so Tully began formulating more arguments. Not that he’d be sorry to have Sage around for a couple of extra days, but Tully knew how unhappy Sage would be to miss out on his weekly visit with family.

&nbs
p; “Come with me,” Sage said.

  It took a few seconds for Tully to understand what he’d said, and even then he was confused. “To Hair Shaker?”

  “Yeah. Yes!” Sage sounded suddenly enthusiastic. “I’ve told Mom and Kayley a few things about you, and I’d love for you to meet them. And… well, there’s not much to see in town, but still…. Come with me,” he repeated.

  Tully was supposed to work, but he could afford to take two days off. He’d been logging insanely long hours, especially on Eddy’s project. Eddy had been uncharacteristically reticent since the gala, confining discussions entirely to business, which suited Tully just fine. If Eddy complained about him taking a little vacation, Tully would tell him to go fuck himself.

  “You’re sure your family won’t mind?”

  “They will definitely not mind. I bet half the town will find an excuse to meet you. You’re exotic by our standards.”

  Exotic. Tully snorted. “Where will I stay? Is there a hotel?” He pictured the Hair Shaker Inn as being something like the Bates Motel, complete with creepy clerk.

  “No, they haven’t yet erected a Marriott in downtown Hair Shaker. And even if they had, we wouldn’t let you go there. You’re staying with us.”

  “But your mom….”

  Sage smoothed Tully’s back. “Mom knows I’m gay,” he said softly. “Kayley knows I’m gay. The whole damn county knows I’m gay. I’ve gotten shit over it, but not from anyone who matters. Certainly not from the family. Kayley once wrote a letter to Neil Patrick Harris informing him that he should dump David Burtka and date me instead. She was ten.”

  Tully laughed. “I’m glad he didn’t take her advice.”

  “After I found out about the letter, I worried for, like, six months that I was going to get arrested for using my daughter to stalk him.”

  With a chuckle, Tully landed a noisy smooch on Sage’s cheek. God, Sage was so happy when he discussed his family, so certain of their love and acceptance. How would Tully have turned out if he’d had family who loved him unconditionally? More confident. Less neurotic. But maybe he’d have ended up a spoiled, self-entitled brat like Eddy.

  “Please?” Sage whispered, stroking Tully’s ass instead of squeezing it.

  Tully had never imagined himself in the position of meeting a boyfriend’s mother and daughter, and he didn’t feel courageous about his debut in Hair Shaker. But how could he say no?

  “I’ll go pack,” he said.

  IT didn’t take long for Tully to get dressed, toss a few items into a small suitcase, and send a couple of explanatory emails to the office. While he did those things, Sage threw on clothes and then bounced around the kitchen, pouring espresso into travel cups and gathering some food.

  “We can stop at a restaurant,” Tully pointed out.

  “Not much open this early on our route. Besides, what fun is a road trip without snacks?” Sage cocked his head. “Did your family ever take road trips when you were little?”

  “Only if you count being chauffeured to the Hamptons. When we vacationed, we flew.” And after they arrived at their destination, everyone went off in separate directions, pursuing separate entertainments. The Tollivers weren’t big on bonding.

  “Every summer Mom and Dad would shut down the Station for a few days and we’d cram a bunch of stuff into the car and hit the road. We’d sort of go without a plan. Stay in these crappy little motels in Idaho or Washington. A couple times we ended up at the coast. Once we even spent a few days in a cabin on Mount Hood.”

  Sage’s expression was soft as he spoke, and Tully could imagine a blond little boy sitting in the back of an old car and chattering away with his parents. He envied Sage.

  Arms full, they made their way down to the garage. Tully paused before getting into the car. “I’m not bringing anything.”

  “What?”

  “Gifts. For Kayley and your mom.”

  “You’re gonna be a good enough surprise present, believe me.”

  They drove east on I-84 for a long time, with little traffic to accompany them. Sage played with the radio, finding the weirdest satellite channels he could. The last time Tully had done this drive, he’d been with Eddy on the way to Hood River for a day of windsurfing and a night of bland sex. Now it was too dark to see the Columbia, and Tully was glad to be making new memories instead.

  “How do you do this drive every week after a long night at work?” he asked through a yawn.

  Sage handed him a coffee mug. “Not much choice in the matter. You burn the midnight oil too, then get up early.”

  Tully wasn’t sure how Sage knew that, since he was never at the condo when Tully went to bed, but he didn’t argue the point since it was true. “That’s not the same as driving a couple hundred miles. Plus your work is exhausting. You’re on your feet the whole time, rushing around….”

  “And I get to sit down nice and comfy for the ride. Look, Tully, we do what we gotta do. When your dad cut you off, did you quit school? No. And God, it must’ve been a struggle for you every day. But if something’s worth it, we pull on our boots and start digging.” He settled his hand, broad and warm, on Tully’s thigh.

  It was funny. Tully had never considered himself the fighting type—except when it came to dueling appellate briefs. With the exception of his few years of poverty, things had come to him easily. But yes, he could have given in and quit law school. Found himself some corporate gig, perhaps, or become a bureaucrat. But he had continued onward even when he had to work menial jobs, live in appalling housing, and get by on virtually no sleep.

  What had he been fighting for? Now he couldn’t remember. Was he yearning then for an expensive condo, a high-tech car, designer clothes? Because nowadays none of those things felt particularly valuable. Not like family was valuable to Sage. Not like Sage was valuable to Tully.

  They stopped to recharge the car in The Dalles, where they had the station to themselves. Apparently no other Tesla owners had a hankering for an early-morning drive through the boonies. While Tully and Sage waited, they munched on the food—rolls stuffed with prosciutto and cheese, California strawberries that made Sage snort with disdain, and some kind of nut-and-dried-fruit mixture he’d apparently invented on the fly.

  “Needs a kick,” Sage said as he chewed. “Chili powder.”

  “That’s your solution to a lot of things.”

  “You’d prefer brussels sprouts?”

  At his own request, Sage took the second driving shift. “You can get some sleep that way.”

  “I already got a few hours. You’re the one who’s been up forever.”

  “Used to it. I’ll take a nap while Kayley’s in school. It’s what I usually do.”

  So Tully dozed and came fully awake as Sage slowed the car through a wide valley. By then sunrise had come and Tully gazed around at the rugged hills still gray with winter. He shivered even though the car was warm. This part of the state was drier than Portland, the weather more extreme, and the juniper-and-sage-dotted landscape looked ready to belch forth Clint Eastwood, John Wayne, and the entire cast of Bonanza.

  “Almost there,” said Sage, who must have noticed him stirring.

  “Do you know how to ride a horse?” Tully asked.

  “Why? In a rodeo mood?”

  “No, just wondering. It looks like the kind of place where everyone knows how to ride a horse.”

  Sage patted Tully’s leg. “I fell off a pony when I was seven and busted my arm. That was enough for me. Carrie was really good at it, though. She never told you that?”

  Trying to imagine Carrie in one of her expensive suits, riding a horse, Tully shook his head. “No, she did not.” But he’d be certain to ask her about it. Yes indeed.

  “Do you know how to ride? Don’t people like you play polo or something?”

  “In Manhattan? Rarely. One of my sisters begged for a horse. I guess we could have kept one at the weekend house, but my father insisted they were a waste of time and money. He wouldn’t let us hav
e any pets either.” A long-forgotten memory emerged: at age seven or eight, sobbing in his room after his father once again refused to let him have so much as a goldfish. Why hadn’t Tully gotten a pet after growing up?

  They came upon a string of buildings, a three-block-long collection that constituted Hair Shaker’s Main Street. Nothing was open yet. Tully spied a general store, a gas station with a garage, a church, a bank, and a bulky structure that appeared to be some kind of meeting hall. He saw Mike’s Pizza Palace, which was not remotely palatial, and across from it, an old brick building with a faded sign: The Filling Station.

  “Looks pathetic, doesn’t it?” Sage said with a sigh.

  “It looks like it needs love.”

  “What it needs is a shitload of money.”

  The Hair Shaker Public School stood at the edge of downtown, a snow-dusted field behind it.

  “How many kids in that school?” asked Tully.

  “Couple hundred in grades one through twelve. Kayley has nineteen in her class this year.”

  Nineteen! Tully’s prep school had enrolled nearly six hundred students, and he’d considered that tiny compared to the high schools in New York City. “How did you guys manage to have a football team?”

  “All the boys played except me and Pete Stankey, who had really bad asthma. He was team manager. Bottle Jaw’s team wasn’t any bigger—none of the ones around here are—so it was okay. On game night almost everyone comes out to see them play.”

  Less than a quarter mile past the high school, Sage turned onto a smaller road. He drove past a few houses before slowing in front of a two-story with white wooden siding and a big front porch. He parked in the gravel driveway, behind a faded blue Chrysler K-car. The front yard looked somewhat unkempt, the flower beds gone to weeds, but it was the end of winter. The house itself seemed to be in good condition, and lace curtains softened the front windows.

  “Home sweet,” said Sage. Tully couldn’t tell whether he was being sarcastic.

  They gathered their things and stepped onto the porch. Sage didn’t knock—why would he when this was his home? The door was unlocked, and he let them in quietly.