A Cold Piece of Work

by Curtis Bunn

  Michele did not answer.

  “Ah, hello?” Solomon said. A look he had not seen covered Michele’s face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Look over there,” she said, nodding her head in the direction of two men engrossed in serious conversation. They were sitting side-by-side. One guy looked rather feminine, with a dangling earring and a tight-fitting, spandex T-shirt. He was overtly gay with the unmistakable gesturing and posturing.

  The other guy was Solomon’s friend, Ray.

  “Isn’t that Ray?” he said.

  “It is,” Michele said. “Cynthia told me he was out at IKEA. What is he doing with that man? Solomon, that man is obviously gay, right?”

  “He looks gay to me; not to judge,” Solomon said. “I’m tripping. Ray isn’t gay. He can’t be, could he, Michele?”

  “I wouldn’t have said so five minutes ago, but from what I’m seeing now…” She paused and sighed. “You tell me? Do straight men hang out with gay men?”

  “No. Pure and simple. It never happens. No way. At least not knowingly,” he answered.

  They watched—stared, rather—as Ray and the man talked and laughed for another five minutes. Solomon and Michele ignored their drinks and food. They were engrossed in this unfolding drama.

  Finally, the men rose from their seats and headed for the area outside the lounge. They walked left, toward the front lobby, past the bathroom and staircase. Michele and Solomon followed, an intrigued pair of voyeurs desperate to see as much as possible.

  In the lobby, Ray looked at his watch and seemed alarmed by the time. He and the man hugged and Ray kissed him on the side of the face before heading through the rotunda and outside the hotel. The man turned and headed in the opposite direction.

  “I don’t believe this,” Michele said. “Poor Cynthia. What are you going to do?”

  “What am I going to do? What should I do? I don’t know,” Solomon said. “That was my man…”

  “What do you mean, ‘was’ your man?”

  “You just asked me if men hang out with gay men. I just told you ‘no.’ So I think you know what I need to do.”

  “But Solomon, that’s your friend. You told me you all have traveled together, been there for each other. How can you just drop him now?” She gazed at him. “Don’t tell me you’re homophobic.”

  “No, I’m not,” Solomon answered. “Or maybe I am. I don’t know. They can do their thing as long as they stay away from me.”

  “Oh, they have to stay away from you?” Michele asked. “That’s crazy. You can’t be that way, Solomon.”

  “I don’t mean it that way,” he said. “I don’t understand it. Just don’t bring innocent women into it. He’s married with a son. And I’m supposed to act like that’s cool?”

  “Yeah, right,” Michele said. “You’re concerned about Cynthia? No, this is about you and your insecurities.”

  Solomon shook his head and went back in to pay the tab. When he returned, Michele was waiting in the rotunda.

  “Let’s go,” he said. When they got outside to valet parking, Ray was standing there looking out toward Peachtree Road.

  Almost as if he sensed four eyes were zoomed in on him, he turned around. There was shock on his face. “Hey, huh, what’s up?” He smiled. Really, he was wondering how long they had been there and what they had seen.

  “You’re up, Ray,” Solomon said. “What are you doing here? Cynthia told Michele you were running errands.”

  “I was,” Ray said.

  “Yeah, we saw,” Solomon said, and Ray’s heart dropped. The expression on his face was undeniable embarrassment.

  “What’s going on, Ray?” Solomon said. “Am I wrong or did that guy I saw you kiss look like a fag?”

  “A fag?” Ray said. “That’s real cave man talk right there.”

  “Oh, you offended by the word ‘fag.’ Since when?” Solomon asked. The tone of the conversation turned hostile.

  “Since right now,” Ray said loudly.

  “Only fags are offended by that word,” Solomon said.

  “Solomon,” Michele said. “Come on now; that’s not right.”

  “Yo, I know you’re not calling me out my name,” Ray said.

  “If the pink skirt fits, dance in it,” Solomon shot back.

  “You’re lucky Michele is here,” Ray said.

  “She can leave,” Solomon responded. “Michele, go ahead home. I want to see what this fag will do with you gone.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she said. “You are not fighting.”

  The Mansion’s valet workers and a security guard came over. “Do we have a problem here?” one of them said.

  “No,” Michele said. “We’re leaving.”

  Just then, Ray’s car pulled up.

  “Sir, you should leave,” the security guard said to Ray.

  “Let’s see what your wife has to say about this!” Solomon yelled as Ray got into the car.

  Michele was livid. “What is wrong with you? How could you be that way? One minute we’re talking about creating a family and the next you’re acting like an ignorant child.”

  “First of all, I ain’t no ignorant child, so don’t call me that,” he said. “Secondly, this man is married with a son and going around with men. I should be all right with that because we’ve been friends? I don’t think so.”

  “You know what? Take me home,” Michele said.

  “What?” Solomon responded. “You’re mad at me?”

  “No, I’m disappointed in you,” she said. “I expected a lot more from you. You’re a sophisticated man. You don’t go around calling someone, especially your friend, a fag.”

  The valet pulled up with the car. Solomon tried to open the door for her, but she did it herself; an indication of her anger. They drove through Buckhead and downtown on Peachtree Road without uttering a word.

  Finally, Michele said, “What if Gerald grows up and you find out he’s gay? You gonna call him a ‘fag’ and disown him?”

  Solomon did not answer, but the mere thought scared him. He continued to drive toward Interstate 20, both hands on the steering wheel.

  “You told me he was the truest friend you had among all your huge group of guys,” Michele said. “You told me he was the only one you confided in when you were arrested. You told me he was the first person you called after your parents when you learned Gerald was your son.

  “You told me he would be the best man at your wedding, if you ever had one. You told me he is the godfather to Gerald. You told me you trusted him. You told me he was like the brother you never had.

  “And now all that is gone, evaporated, because you think he’s gay? I pray that’s not the case. I pray you’re the man I believe you are.

  “This is a test for you, Solomon. You said you found your soul, but I don’t know. If you judge your best friend based on what you think his sexuality is, then you’re colder than Ray ever imagined.”

  Michele’s words dug deep into Solomon’s mind and heart. She was right about Ray and what he meant to Solomon. Men hardly ever expressed to each other the depth and importance of their friendship, but Ray actually did, when Gerald was in the hospital.

  He said to Solomon while they sat in the waiting room: “I prayed for you because I believe you actually need Gerald more than he needs you. And I know if he’s not all right, you won’t be all right. And you’re my boy, so I need you to be all right. It’s a tough time for you. But I’m here for you. Always.”

  “You remember what Ray told you when Gerald was sick?” Michele asked, reading Solomon’s thoughts.

  Solomon’s anger, disappointment and confusion subsided. Ray was his friend, unequivocally.

  “Let’s go to his house,” Solomon said.

  “Maybe you should call him first,” she said.

  Solomon agreed.

  “Yeah,” Ray said answering the phone.

  “I wanted to come by your house and talk to you for a minute,” Solomon said.

  “About wha
t?” he said.

  “I want to apologize,” Solomon said. “You’re my man.”

  Ray agreed to let them come over. They stopped at the liquor store on Wesley Chapel and bought a bottle of champagne.

  “Peace offering,” Solomon said, raising the bottle of Vueve when Ray opened the door. Ray smiled.

  “Hi, Michele,” he said. “Come on in.”

  Cynthia emerged from the kitchen.

  “Ray, uh, can we go out back for a minute?” Solomon said.

  “No need; Cynthia knows everything,” Ray said. “We can all talk right here.”

  Solomon looked at Michele, who gave him an indifferent look.

  They took seats in the living room. Ray hit the mute button on the remote control.

  “What’s up?” Ray looked at Solomon.

  “Listen, I, uh, I know a lot of people, and I then I have you,” he said. “You’ve been a true friend. I was so surprised by what I saw that I forgot that and gave in to my fears and hang-ups.

  “Michele reminded me of a lot of stuff that made me feel really good about our friendship and really bad about myself. No matter what, you’re still Ray and we’re still boys.”

  “The truth is,” Ray said, “I wasn’t really surprised by your reaction. I told Cynthia that. I know how you were with women; cold. Why wouldn’t you be that way with me in this situation?

  “Most men would be. I would be. The one thing I would’ve done differently is I would’ve asked some questions instead of jumping the gun.”

  “You want to ask some question now, Solomon?” Cynthia said.

  He was not sure what to say. He glanced at Michele, who gave him an expression that said, “Go ahead; ask.”

  Solomon kept his mouth shut. So Cynthia asked him, “You’re okay with my husband being gay?”

  Solomon did not hesitate. “I’m friends with Ray, not his sexuality,” a mantra he adopted on his way there.

  Then he asked Cynthia: “Are you all right with it?”

  “No,” she said.

  Michele and Solomon tried to look as if they were not surprised. It didn’t work.

  “Well, that’s not our business,” Michele said.

  “No, he asked the question; I’m just answering,” Cynthia said.

  “And here’s the rest of my answer: If he were gay, we’d have a real problem.”

  Then a smile creased her face and Ray laughed.

  “You really think I’d be married to a gay man?” Cynthia said. “I have nothing against gay men. But I don’t want to be married to one.”

  “And what does that say about me that you think I’m gay?” Ray asked, smiling.

  “Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Solomon said. “We saw you… I mean, the other guy was… What’s going on?”

  “The other guy,” Ray said, “was my brother. My twin brother, Paul; he’s gay.”

  An avalanche of relief fell down over Solomon. “Oh, man. I had no idea you even had a brother,” he said. “I was serious about not caring about your sexuality. But it’s better this way.”

  They all laughed.

  “Yeah, that was Paul,” Ray said. “It’s been rough for him. My father and grandfather have disowned him and even my mother isn’t what I think she could be to him.

  “I watched my father have the same reaction you did, only a hundred times worse and directly at Paul. He tried to forbid me from communicating with him. But he’s my brother; nothing can break that. We’re twins—obviously not identical. But as twin brothers we have a special bond. I wasn’t sure how Cynthia would feel about it, so when she thought I was out seeing someone else, I was with Paul. I explained that to her and, to my surprise, she has been supportive.”

  “Family is all we have,” Cynthia said.

  “I wasn’t excited to learn about his preference about ten years ago,” Ray added, “but it really does nothing to change who he is to me.”

  “That’s such a mature approach,” Michele said. “How can we judge other people when none of us are pure?”

  Solomon felt pure in his heart, pure in his soul. He had overcome his distrust of women and opened up to Michele. She was going to be his wife. And he meant what he said about being Ray’s friend no matter what, another sign of personal growth.

  They popped the champagne and Cynthia poured some in the flutes. They had a toast just as the doorbell rang. Ray hurried to he door. When he opened it, his brother, Paul, stepped in.

  They shook hands. Paul and Cynthia embraced and exchanged pleasantries.

  Ray then introduced him to Solomon.

  “This is my brother, Paul,” he said. “Paul, this is—”

  Solomon interrupted him. “I’m Solomon,” he said, smiling, “your brother from another mother.”

  Everyone laughed.

  He passed on a handshake and hugged Paul. During the embrace, his eyes met with Michele’s, and his wife-to-be smiled the warmest smile.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Curtis Bunn is a national award-winning sports journalist who has evolved into one of the most critically acclaimed authors of contemporary fiction about relationships. His novel, Baggage Check, ascended to No. 1 on the Essence magazine and Cushcity. com bestseller lists. He has been featured in national magazines (including Essence, Black Issues Book Review, Uptown, Black Enterprise, Rolling Out) and local Atlanta media outlets (The Atlanta Journal-Constitution, Fox 5 Good Day Atlanta, Fox 5 Good Day Xtra!). He has written for Black Enterprise, Honey magazine, ESPN The Magazine, Hoop magazine and others. A native of Washington, D.C., Bunn covered the NBA, NFL, Olympics, college basketball, pro baseball, professional boxing and wrote columns for The Washington Times, New York Newsday and New York Daily News and The Atlanta Journal-Constitution.

  In 2002, he founded the National Book Club Conference, which has developed into a premier annual literary event for readers and authors. This bolstered his connection to hundreds of reading groups around the country. His website is www.curtisbunn.com and he has more than 1,700 friends on Facebook.

  READER DISCUSSION GUIDE

  1. Are you surprised Solomon was so affected by his past relationships with women?

  2. Could you forgive Solomon for the way he treated Michele early in the book?

  3. What did you think of Michele’s talk to her book club members about the importance of sex in her life? Do you agree or disagree with her?

  4. Could you relate to Michele’s struggle to trust Solomon and her reluctance to share news with him about her son, Gerald?

  5. Did you ever find yourself pulling for Solomon and Michele to make it? To not make it?

  6. How did you receive Michele’s revelation to Solomon about Gerald? Did it surprise you? Did you think she should have kept it to herself?

  7. Did Michele overreact to Solomon’s indiscretion of the past and his disciplining of Gerald?

  8. Was the intimacy described in the book over the top, too mild or exciting?

  9. How does the potential of domestic violence impact your feeling/interactions with a man? Was Michele’s reaction to Solomon justified?

  10. Can a woman inspire a man to change? Can he go from cold to warm? Or is his core established and unbreakable?

  To have Curtis Bunn’s input on these questions and any others you may have, please e-mail him at curtisbunn@yahoo.com. He is available to attend book club meetings, participate in meetings via conference call or Skype and online chat sessions. Please visit www.curtisbunn.com for more information.

  IF YOU ENJOYED “A COLD PIECE OF WORK,” CHECK OUT THIS EXCERPT FROM CURTIS BUNN’S FORTHCOMING NOVEL

  HOMECOMING WEEKEND

  COMING SEPTEMBER 2012 FROM STREBOR BOOKS

  CHAPTER 1

  BUMPY ROAD

  It was times like this when Jimmy resented his wife. He hated that she tainted his thoughts on marriage because he actually looked at the institution as something to savor. But his wife, well, she could create excruciating occasions that made him feel like getting into his car and drivin
g off to no place in particular, just away from her, never bothering to look back.

  Was it an overreaction? Maybe. Well, likely. But he was not a deadbeat husband, a bore or a louse. He, in fact, was the opposite, which, he believed, entitled him to some understanding and not the blow-torch heat his wife was known for spewing.

  On this day in particular, it ate at Jimmy like a run-amok virus.

  He had waited an entire decade for this weekend.

  It was Homecoming.

  Monica knew how excited he was about the trip—he talked incessantly about how much he looked forward to going back to his old college—but that did not stop her filling Jimmy’s head with exactly what it did not welcome.

  He had the trip all planned out. He was trying to get onto Interstate 95 South by noon so he could arrive before traffic built up at the tunnel between Hampton and Norfolk, Virginia around 3 o’clock. It was a solid three-hour, fifteen-minute drive from their home in Southeast Washington, D.C—and that included time for him to stop downtown to get his customary road food: a half-smoke with mustard and onions, a box of Boston Baked Beans candy, pumpkin seeds and a Welch’s grape soda.

  Monica, his wife, was sweet on occasion, needy on many and overbearing on too many. This was one of her patented melt-downs that bothered Jimmy like that sound of chalk screeching across a blackboard. When she acted as she did on this day— standing over him as he packed his bags, arms folded, mouth going, attitude funky—it was a miserable existence for Jimmy. He didn’t do drama well, and Monica was in straight Queen Drama mode.

  While she was dramatic and even over the top…she had a valid argument. She wondered why her husband was going back to Norfolk State University’s homecoming without her?

  Jimmy was so frustrated because of what he deemed her sinister objective: to pressure and nag him into not going or to bring her along, even as he was moments from departing. At worse, she wanted to put him in a foul mood so he would not enjoy himself. Selfish, he thought.

  Why else would she go into her histrionics now? he surmised. She knew I was going to homecoming for several months. To act a fool just as he was about to leave frustrated him.