by Kelly Fox
“I—wait, what?” I sputter.
“Roly, I wouldn’t get so excited about Heath,” Nick says at the same time.
Roly ignores his cousin and instead focuses on me. “Pete, you’re gay, everyone in your life knows that you are gay.” Leaning across the table conspiratorially, he asks Lucas, “You’re the straight one here. Did you know JP here was gay? I mean, before he went and waxed poetic about my next conquest.”
I look over at Lucas, who awkwardly lifts up his palms. “Kinda?” My jaw hangs from its hinges. He lifts a shoulder. “You’re very fashionable.”
I make a face. “Straight guys can be fashionable.”
“Yeah, but—”
Roly barrels forward. “Look, if you could please just push Jake up against some gym equipment and kiss him a little, I’d win the office pool.” Addressing Nick, he says, “Oh, and I’m super motivated about getting on Heavy’s radar. He’s my OG bear crush, and I intend to show him everything I’ve learned since high school.”
I’m still sputtering as Nick continues. “Roly, he hated that nickname. Dude… you might want to give him a wide berth.”
“Nick, as soon as he’s in town, I’ll have him in my bed within a week. Bet.”
“You’re money’s mine, primo. Bet.”
I squint at my two good friends. “You bet on my sexuality?”
Nick puts his hand on my arm. “No, of course not. That would be crude of us. We bet on when you’d finally own up to it and go after the man you’ve been chasing for—” He pauses and looks to Roly for confirmation. “How long?”
“To hear Scout and Evie talk about it, from the minute he met Jake. So, for almost a year.”
It’s my turn to gape. “So… you all know?”
Nick and Roly laugh to each other, then look at Lucas, who is nodding, and they all laugh harder.
“The guyliner.”
“The Fenty highlighter you’re currently sporting on those marvelous cheekbones.”
“Those suits that are made from curtain material, but are still somehow really sexy on you.”
“The way your eyes are glued to Jake’s ass whenever he’s in the room.”
“The way you linger after yoga to help Jake put away the mats.”
“The way you’re always at the pizza shop during his deliveries.”
“The way every time Jake brings a new boyfriend by, you get this smug look on your face like you know exactly how temporary that shit is.”
“The fact that Scout saw you doing the walk of shame from his condo the other day.”
Roly turns to Nick. “No. Fucking. Way.”
Nick nods, satisfied with himself.
I hold up my hand. “You have to admit I’m right to be smug about the boyfriend thing. I’m clearly the man for him, and now we’re working out the timing. And there was no shame in my walk. He just needed someone to hold him after a bad episode.”
Roly’s eyes glisten and he clasps his hands in front of his heart. “You held him? That is just the sweetest!”
Thankfully, the beers and appetizers arrive, and I take a few gulps of sour ale as I let the truth of my coming out settle on my bones. Concerned about our coach, I turn to Lucas. “Dude, you can’t say—”
He holds up his hands. “I would never. Though… with as much as you talk about that Jake guy, I don’t think it’s much of a secret with the coaching staff.”
Leaning forward, Nick crunches into a fried pickle spear and asks, “So, talk to us about how you’re going to seal the deal.”
My cheeks heat and I bite my lip until he gestures with his pickle for me to continue. “Well, I’d like to at least kiss him. And I’ve got to be delicate, because the media drama around my divorce will feed the drama of coming out, and I don’t want to scare him away.”
Nick takes a sip of his dark ale and sits back. “Jake wouldn’t let the publicity scare him away from you. I can promise you, the way his mind works, he’s already considered it.”
“Really?”
Roly answers, “Of course, you doofus. He totally feels the same way.”
“How do you know?” To give my hands something to do, I grab a fried pickle, dipping it in the tureen of ranch dressing—a phrase, by the way, I never thought I’d say—and munch on it.
Merde, that’s delicious.
“The way his eyes are always glued to your ass.”
“The fact that he has, I shit you not, a DVD collection of UT basketball games from twenty-some years ago. Like, entire seasons.”
“The fact that he used to become a Jakecicle every time you entered a room.”
“A what?” I ask Roly, wiping the ranch from the corner of my mouth, not sure I heard him correctly.
“A Jakecicle. He would go all Han-Solo-frozen-in-carbonite whenever you were within ten feet of him,” Roly explains with a mime of Han Solo’s face frozen in agony.
“Yeah, but that’s part of his…” I look over at Lucas and let the sentence die off. He smiles and tips back the rest of his beer, then stands up.
I make to protest, but he puts a large hand on my shoulder. “Sounds like you have a lot more to discuss, and I’ve got to get back home. Thanks for letting me hang out with y’all, congrats on coming out, and, uh, yeah, maybe let’s do it again sometime.”
Roly holds out his hand. “We really weren’t trying to haze you with all of the gay stuff, promise. You are welcome to join us again.”
Lucas laughs and shakes Roly’s hand. “I know. And thank you.”
After Lucas walks off, Nick shakes his head. “The freeze he does around you is just the fucked-up part of trauma that equates good stress with bad stress. Doesn’t mean that you were making him seize up.”
“How can you tell?”
“Because he kept coming back for more,” Nick says with a sexy smile. “And now he hardly freezes around you at all.”
I am unaccountably thrilled that they seem so on board with me and Jake. “Do you know why he has PTSD?”
Nick answers, “None of the specifics, but I know that he’s got a bone frog tattoo on his ribs.”
I narrow my eyes and take an aggressive bite of this divine pickle. “You’ve seen his ribs?”
“Just the one time in the showers. He’s kind of weird about getting undressed in front of people.”
Not with me, I think to myself. “What does the bone frog mean?”
“It’s a Navy SEAL memorial tattoo that honors someone on your team who has died. I’ve done some digging and can’t find him on any official records, but he doesn’t strike me as the kind to steal valor. Also, the guy who worked on the tattoo is a retired SEAL.”
“But he always said that he didn’t go into the service after the Naval Academy.”
Nick shakes his head. “Yeah, that’s what he said. I didn’t go to the Naval Academy, but it’s my understanding that at about the midway point you have to pick out a J-O-B and sign your commitment papers. If he’d actually graduated from the Naval Academy, which we still can’t verify, he’d have done so with a specific career path already in the works. If you drop out of the Naval Academy without following through on your commitment papers, you get handed a six-figure bill.”
Roly looks thoughtful. “He’d take at least the ASVAB, and that might have led to further testing. They sometimes divert people after the aptitudes.”
Nick takes another swig of his beer and wipes his mouth. “But that’s usually their way of saying that you have the wrong stuff, please leave.”
Roly’s expression shifts, and he answers softly, “But sometimes it goes the other way.”
Wow. Okay. I put my head in my hands, wishing that the world would stop spinning long enough for me to catch up.
They give me a moment to breathe, so I take two and change the subject. “So, do you think he’ll be upset at me for talking to my publicist ahead of time? Like, if we can be together, he won’t be mad about her giving him pointers on dealing with the publicity?”
“Knowin
g Jake, no, he won’t be upset,” Nick assures me.
Roly’s expressive face lights up. “So, is Jake going to be your first boyfriend?”
“As an adult, yes.”
“So… you’ve never done anything? With a man?”
I go quiet, not sure how to answer him. I don’t know them that well, and this was getting pretty personal, but Roly’s smile is encouraging. Taking a sip of liquid courage, I respond, “My experience is… limited.”
“How limited? Hand jobs? Blow jobs?” Roly is so damned nosy.
I think about the first time that Leopold and I kissed, how much smaller he was than me, and how much I loved his lips on mine. We’d seen a movie where the guy picked up the girl and she wrapped her legs around his waist, and he loved it when I picked him up and held him like that. His hands, when they first touched me, seemed so much finer than mine. We were so young that we hadn’t gone beyond touching when he’d been taken from me. Finally, I answer, “Yes, but only other closeted players. And not… frequently.”
Nick shakes his head at his cousin and gives me his full attention. “It doesn’t matter how much experience you have. This is about love, not how many marks you have on your headboard.”
I appreciate the serious support from the serious man. “I know that you’re familiar with my story from the Oprah interview last year.”
Nick answers, “I also read an article about how your family had to escape Rwanda during the genocide. Something about your mother being Hutu and your dad being Tutsi or shit, I don’t remember that correctly—maybe I have it wrong. They weren’t supposed to get married and have a kid, but they did. And that meant that you all had to run.”
I smile. He had done his due diligence. There isn’t a written record of what happened, but maybe this part I can share. “The boy they killed…”
“Your friend, Leopold.” Nick’s shrewd eyes are somehow a comfort.
“Yes. He wasn’t just my friend.”
Roly grabs my arm, tears instantly wetting his eyes. “Oh, Pete. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”
I nod, my own tears near the surface. “That same night, my parents decided that we needed to run, so we did. We couldn’t find a safe place. For days we ran and ran, on foot, hitching rides, never safe enough to just sleep, you know?”
“Why not? Were people after you?”
“No. I…” I stop and look them both in the eye, and they respond by leaning in. “I did not leave anyone to come after us. But there were dangerous people everywhere. War had taken a toll on the humanity of so many. There were many attempts to rape my mother, and my father and I managed to fight these men off, but it wasn’t like a round of boxing where someone is declared a winner, and someone is declared a loser and both parties walk away.”
Nick’s jaw is set in understanding. “So you just made sure to never lose.”
“Correct.”
Nick hesitates, and I gesture for him to ask me whatever it is he wants to ask me. “You said that no one was left to follow you. The men who killed Leopo—”
I hold up my hand, interrupting Nick, and tell them the only way I know how. “When we got to Montreal, my mother, who’d been through so much, said that it felt silly, but that she was sad that she had nothing of her kitchen back home, and that she’d wished she’d at least thought to grab her stew pot when we fled. I didn’t explain anything to her, I just went to my bag and pulled out a knife and handed it to her. I told her that I was sorry about her pot, but that this was the sharpest knife from her kitchen.”
Roly’s hand tightens on my arm. “Oh my god, Jean-Pierre. You were only fourteen.”
I nod and dredge another pickle through the ranch dressing. “Yeah, so telling my very traditional parents that I’m gay after everything we went through to get to Montreal, not to mention the sacrifices they made to get me the kind of education that would lead me to the life I’ve led, seemed… impossible. So, I have to be careful with how I handle them, and, of course, careful with my little project.”
The atmosphere is heavy as the waiter approaches and takes our orders. Nick and I order a simple bratwurst with spicy mustard, and Roly gets the Smoky and the Boar special, with all of the fixings. He flirts with the waiter until the poor boy stutters and excuses himself, and I smile at my friend, thankful for his ability to not be mired in the weighty things.
We continue to eat fried pickles and drink, and after a few minutes, Nick shifts the subject away from the darkness. “I don’t think that you’re going to have a problem with the paparazzi in Austin. At least not in the long term.”
I inhale and exhale slowly, a weight lifting from my shoulders that I hadn’t realized was there. Silvia was right; it was nice to be able to talk to people about this. “Thank you, guys.”
“For what?”
“The only people I’ve ever talked to about Jake are my business manager, my publicist, and my ex-wife,” I say with a chuckle. “And they’re all friends, don’t get me wrong, but…”
“It’s nice to be able to talk to the people who care about Jake, too,” answers Roly.
Nick holds up his beer, and we clink our glasses together. “What’s your strategy for coming out?”
Roly’s expressive eyes go big. “Wait, do you have a media strategy?”
“Kinda? But I’d include him in the final details, of course.”
“Which is…”
“Don’t come out. Just live my life. Start wearing guyliner and highlighter and fancy suits. Start showing up places with my hopefully soon-to-be-boyfriend. No assistance or media blitz from me needed.”
Roly nods. “So, just… date and let people catch on?”
“Essentially. Like, no big deal.”
Nick shakes his head. “Dude, it is a big deal.”
“Yes, but if I can act like it isn’t a big deal, just me going out with my guy, it might to normalize it as a fact and not, you know, a Big Thing.”
Roly bobs his head, thinking. After a while, he punches my arm. “I think it could work.”
“I hope so. Austin has been so chill for me, and I’m hoping… just hoping to share my good life with someone.”
Nick clinks his mug of beer against mine. “I know how lonely it can get, but in this town and with this family that you’re building, you don’t have to be lonely.”
As he’s saying that, the crisscrossing strings of round lightbulbs buzz on, the effect instant and atmospheric. On cue, the sound of guitar strings being tuned fills the air. The chilly breeze lets up in the twilight, and the waiters start up the heat lamps, which do a pretty good job of warming us up. Nick, Roly, and I eat our handmade sausages while listening to a young up-and-coming folk singer with a soft-scruffy voice that reminds me of Jake. I look around at the smiling faces lit by bare bulbs, the beer and cocktails making everyone shine. I toe the dirt at my feet and look across at my friends, feeling very lucky indeed.
Chapter Fourteen
Jake
I’d added an evening yoga class at the gym a while back, and there were a few nights where it was only Elijah and maybe one other guy. At some point Jean-Pierre started coming to the classes, and attendance has steadily picked up since. I can’t decide if I resent or appreciate his help. I land on appreciation because I know that he’s doing it for me, not the gym.
Elijah walks up to me as Jean-Pierre and I are putting away the mats, and he greets me with a brief hug, which is unexpected and, once I remember to hug him back, entirely sweet.
Nick once said that before they got together, Elijah hadn’t been hugged in a long time, so I figure I can toss a hug his way here and there. I’m not entirely devoid of… whatever.
“That was an excellent class, Jake. And the number of attendees was—”
“—not bad, I know. Is it wrong that I’m a little glad that Morris is only a morning person?”
His laugh is an amazing thing, and I’m glad he’s in a place to give it so freely. At that point, Elijah and I notice that Jean-Pierre is still standing
around, having slowly put away all of the yoga gear on his own.
It’s kinda awkward.
And super endearing.
Elijah eyeballs me and makes his excuses, leaving me alone with Jean-Pierre in our little corner of the gym.
“That was an exceptional class, Jake. I always feel so relaxed afterward.” He shifts uncomfortably on his size eighteen feet. “It was nice to do it at night. I’ll sleep very well, I’m sure.”
“Thank you, Jean-Pierre. It can be pretty daunting trying to teach crusty old vets the basics of yoga, but it is helpful when you have a seven-foot-tall guy in the back, perfectly executing the poses.”
John Pierre smiles and looks around before he wraps an arm around my shoulders. Without overthinking it, I wrap my arm around his waist and snuggle up under his armpit. He tightens his grip on me, and I rest my head on his chest.
“My Jake. Did you not sleep well last night? You seem a little tired.”
He’s also started saying “my Jake,” and I want to melt every time he does.
God, I sound like a teenage girl.
To be fair, lots of teenage girls are super fucking fierce, so maybe I should go with the inclination.
I shake my head. “Rough night. But this class usually helps my brain to reset, so I’ll probably sleep well, too.”
“Do you need my services?” he asks, gesturing to his body. “I’m always happy to help out a… friend.”
I smile and bite my lip. He’s getting bolder around me, and I like it. A lot. I cast my eyes upward from my position on his chest, wrapped in his arms. “I think that I would like that very much.”
John-Pierre shifts me from side hug to full-body hug, and it feels fucking amazing. Shit, I need to pull away or think of baby kittens or something because he is packing some serious heat in his joggers and I’m already half-hard… but my mind does not want to stay on chaste things. No, it wants to take a swan dive right into kinkier waters and pull my body along with it. We stand there, hugging for far longer than friends hug, and my breath catches when he gives me the smile that is only mine. His voice is a deep rumble as he says my name. “Jake—”