A Kind of Romance

by Lane Hayes

  The most authentically colorful thing in this space might just be the man with faded pink highlights in his bangs. The fact his bright shirt didn’t clash with his hair was a sign that as outlandish as Benny dressed, he knew what he was doing. Did I? I’d had second thoughts on my way uptown, but I couldn’t convince myself this was anything but a harmless outing. I liked bowling. At least I thought I did. And yes, my competitive nature surfaced when he’d claimed to be an expert. I wanted to prove I was better, though I had nothing to qualify me as such.

  “Hi there,” I said, tapping Benny’s shoulder.

  He swiveled on his barstool and smiled. It was one of those megabright grins that transform even the best-looking people into a godlike realm. My heart jumped and sputtered and then raced like crazy. The way it had when I was in high school and Jared Hirsch smiled at me. I gulped and licked my lips before taking the seat next to him. A bored-looking bartender stood at the other end of the bar, drying glasses with a hand towel. He tucked the towel in his waistband under his considerable paunch and sauntered over to ask what I wanted in a thick Long Island accent.

  “What do you have on tap?”

  He sighed before launching into an exhaustive list of foreign and domestic beers and ales. I was stalling. I didn’t really care what I had to drink. I was having the same strange reaction to Benny I’d had the other night. I needed the extra time to get myself under control. The bartender nodded when I finally made my choice and turned away. Diversion gone. I threw a sideways glance at Benny and found him staring at me. I braced myself for another adolescent-like reaction, but when my pulse remained steady, I shifted on my stool to face him. Damn, he was cute. Scratch that… he was hot. The mischievous spark in his gaze might have been part of the attraction. He looked like he knew the punch line to a hysterical joke and couldn’t wait to share.

  “You look good,” I commented in a casual tone.

  “Thanks. So do you.” He grinned, nudging my knee as he turned. The contact went straight to my cock. When this happened the other night at Antigua, I figured I was having a vodka-induced reaction. I was stone-cold sober now. And sweating. Not good.

  The timely arrival of my beer saved me for a moment. I took a long drink and let my gaze sweep over the patrons. It looked like a basic after-work crowd. I wondered if we stood out. Two gay men bellied up to the bar. One dressed in a color that hadn’t been popular since 1985, and the other… well, in my perfectly pressed jeans and light blue oxford button-down shirt, I probably looked lost.

  “Relax, honey. It’s only bowling,” Benny taunted, as though he were somehow able to read my thoughts. “Remember? I’m gonna kick your ass and send you home with your tail between your legs.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I don’t think so, little man. Prepare for certain defeat.”

  Benny barked a short laugh and gave me what I was beginning to think of as his signature once-over. “If you like the planet Earth, I would suggest you refrain from ever calling me ‘little man’ again.”

  “Ooh, I’m scared.”

  “You’re an asshole. Why did I think this could be fun? I must have had too many strawberry margaritas the other night.”

  “I see you ordered another fruity drink. What’s up with that? You must really like pink stuff.” I reached out and impulsively ran my thumb along the fringe of his bangs.

  He swatted my hand away irritably and shot me a warning glance.

  “What’d I do?” I asked. “Tell the truth?”

  “I’m already bugged. Finish your beer. Our reservation is in ten minutes. What do you want to talk about? Wall Street or bagels? You choose.”

  “I never thought I’d say this, but tell me about bagels. How do you like it so far?”

  “It’s fine. But better than that… I actually received a commission today,” he squealed. “A real one.”

  I gave him a sharp look and glanced over at the bartender, noticing his inquisitive stare. I coughed uncomfortably. “Commission for what? Pumpernickel?”

  Benny chuckled appreciatively. “Sorry. That was a bad segue. Not bagels. A dress. But not just any dress. My client is a theater chanteuse! Broadway royalty!”

  “Congratulations. Who is she?”

  “Sarah Gerritson.”

  “Never heard of her.”

  “Well, maybe I’m exaggerating a smidge. She’s in an off-Broadway musical with iffy reviews, but she needs something fabulous for some cocktail party for her hubby’s office. I suppose it’s a start. I wouldn’t usually brag, but the well has been dry lately. If I’m not elbow-deep in pizza dough, I’m dishing cream cheese onto toasted bagels. I can’t wait to get a chance to do something creative again. And thank you, baby Jesus… she wants color! I love black, but when she said jewel toned, I nearly fell off my chair. Things are looking up!”

  “Good for you. What color will you choose? Lime green?”

  “This is not lime green. It’s chartreuse. You like?” Benny popped the collar on his tee and gave me a sideways look that clearly indicated the question was rhetorical only.

  “It’s bright but yeah… you look nice.”

  “Thanks.” His smile was wide and… beautiful.

  I swallowed hard and tried to come up with a neutral topic change. “Hey, has my dad been calling you? I’m wondering if we’re officially off the hook now.”

  Benny cocked his head curiously. “Haven’t you talked to him?”

  “Yeah, but it was quick. I told him we met, and he went on about how terrific you are until I tuned him out. When I mentioned seeing you tonight, he got kinda excited. I hope you’re willing to convert. He’s hoping for a Jewish son-in-law.”

  My delivery was purposefully deadpan, and the result was well worthwhile. Benny’s eyes widened as he covered his mouth to keep from spraying his cocktail all over the bar. When he finally managed to swallow, he gasped for air. A lone tear trickled down his cheek as he coughed. I patted his back and handed him a napkin with a chuckle.

  “You okay, big guy? Note… I didn’t say ‘little guy.’”

  He gave me a dirty look but couldn’t speak yet. I lifted my glass in a mock toast and took a swig while he gathered himself.

  “Convert?”

  “Sure, I’m Jewish. You’re Catholic. That ain’t gonna fly.”

  “Handsome and hysterical. How did I get so lucky?” he drawled.

  I laughed heartily and patted his back again, amused when he pushed me away. “I don’t know, Ben. I don’t know. You ready for me to mop the bowling lane with you tonight? That’s code for ‘kick your ass.’ Come on, let’s do this.”

  BENNY LED the way to the shoe rental area. He’d come equipped with his own bowling ball and a pair of slick shoes. I felt a twinge of jealousy. I’d remembered a thick pair of socks, but frankly, the gross factor in wearing rented shoes was still high. We were assigned a lane at the far end of the enormous bowling alley next to the wall. The semicircular seating was nicer than the usual hard plastic seats found in most alleys. The chairs were upholstered in a brown leather that complemented the sleek computer console. The lighting over the seating area had a club-like feel that made each lane seem private. And strangely… romantic.

  I sang the first few lines of Elton John’s “Bennie and the Jets” in my usual off-pitch voice to defuse the mood and maybe get a rise out of Benny as he entered our names into the computer. When he finished, he turned with a raised brow and made a sweeping motion with his hands.

  “You’re up. Let’s see what you got, Gulden.”

  “Are you giving me a couple practice rounds? I haven’t done this in a while.”

  I didn’t think the question was particularly funny, but Benny obviously did. When he was done laughing his head off, he pointed toward the lane.

  “We’ll consider the first couple turns practice. You’re first.”

  I gave him a perturbed glare and then walked to the top of the lane. I stood tall, balancing the weight of the ball evenly against my chest for a moment. Then
I stepped back with my right foot as I swung my right arm behind me, and sent the ball flying down the lane in front of me. I swayed to the left as it careened to the right, as though my movement could correct the ball’s course to somewhere closer to the middle. It didn’t work. I managed to knock down eight pins, though. And on my second try, I got one more. Not too shabby. I high-fived Benny, who stood nearby, ready and waiting for his turn.

  Benny stared at the pins in the distance, resting his bright red bowling ball under his chin. He almost looked like he was saying a prayer. A childish voice in my head wanted to taunt him and say something juvenile like “You better say a prayer ’cause you’ll need all the help you can get.” Something I might have said to Abe or Carter. But I kept quiet and instead focused on his form. My gaze dipped from his tapered, slim waist to his ass. For a small guy, he was perfectly proportioned. And that ass was fine. I blinked in an effort to not ogle. I glanced up when he moved. His left arm flew to his side as he pulled his right arm back. He crouched low, almost like he was bowing with his right knee bent at an exaggerated angle, and then unleashed the ball. The red ball went flying straight down the center of the alley and bam! Strike.

  He sashayed back toward the console and slapped my offered hand a high five.

  “Impressive,” I grudgingly sighed before standing to take my turn.

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m still warming up, though,” I said smugly before adding, “And I’m still gonna show you who’s boss.”

  Benny smiled and crossed his arms over his chest. “Naturally. Your turn.”

  I hit nine pins on my next turn, then eight and seven after that. I was getting worse while Benny… well, he was kicking my ass. He hit strikes or spares with an ease that proved he’d been telling the truth from the start. He was an expert bowler, and I was the loud-mouthed schmuck who’d challenged the wrong man to a contest I had no hope of winning. By my final turn, I’d been sufficiently put in my place. It was time to apologize for doubting his prowess and admit I’d been wrong. But grace in defeat wasn’t my strong suit, so instead of congratulating him, I opened my big mouth and said something else entirely.

  “I’m warmed up now. Bet you can’t do that again, Ruffalo. Let’s play another round.”

  “You’re a glutton for punishment. And the name is Ruggieri, not Ruffalo, asshole. I’ll play again, but let’s make it interesting. Let’s make a bet. The winner….”

  Benny was still talking, but I was distracted by a familiar figure three lanes away. I squinted, unsure if I was seeing correctly in the dim lighting. No way. It couldn’t be.

  Clay Brenner. Also known as the guy Taylor had been screwing around with for months before he finally came clean and broke up with me. I wasn’t kidding when I said I hated to lose, but the most galling part of the entire episode with Taylor was that Clay was a coworker. He’d been with the Baxter McGuiness Group for less than a year, and in that short time he had managed to fuck me over. Royally. It was impressive in a way. I’d never said more than a word or two to the guy in passing. A grunted greeting in the hallway or in the office kitchen was the extent of our interaction. He must have had a good laugh. He’d wave an absent greeting in my direction mere hours after pulling his dick out of my lover’s ass. Fucker.

  I couldn’t believe it when Taylor said he had serious “feelings” for the guy. Clay was so… ordinary. Five foot ten, mousy-brown hair, a slight potbelly, and a questionable sense of style. In other words, he looked like a boring thirtysomething whose biggest aspiration was to buy a nice family home in the suburbs and raise a few kids someday. What he didn’t look like was competition. I’d been blown away when I realized I’d read him so incorrectly. Now it seemed I’d been right after all. Or partially so. Evidently Clay was bi, but the two kids hopping around his feet and the pregnant woman sitting on the bench behind him told a bigger story. That fuckhead was a married man.

  I was shocked. I couldn’t remember if he’d worn a ring because I had zero interest in him until I’d found out about him and Taylor. And in the past two months since Taylor and I had broken up, I hadn’t bumped into Clay once. His office had been moved to another floor, which frankly was for the best. I was afraid of what I might do if I ran into him. My temper was notoriously volatile. I wanted to destroy him, but I was a staunch advocate of the sentiment that revenge was a dish best served cold. It looked like ol’ Clay had just handed me a shiny silver platter.

  “Who are you looking at?” Benny playfully bumped my elbow and pointed toward the ball feed, wordlessly indicating it was my turn. “Don’t tell me… you’re losing interest. I warned you not to mess with me. I’ll take my hundred bucks in a single bill, please.”

  “A hundred? Is that what we’re betting?” I had to laugh at his comedic expression, though my gaze immediately shifted back to the action a couple of lanes away.

  “Too steep for you or—” Benny looked over at Clay and his family, then back at me. “Who is that? I won’t enjoy this win if you’re distracted. Don’t tell me your biological clock is ticking and you’re having one of those—”

  “A guy from my office.”

  “Well, go say hi, then.”

  I pulled him back by the elbow when he moved away as though he was going to introduce himself to the happy family.

  “No. He’s not a friend.”

  “Damn. That look in your eye is a little scary. What did he do to you?”

  “He’s the guy my ex was cheating on me with.” My tone was matter-of-fact. I picked up my bowling ball and idly wondered if I should just hand over a hundred bucks to Benny. I was distracted now. There was little doubt he’d handily beat me again.

  “Say what? Was your ex a woman? What are you doing here with me, asshole? Does your dad know you—?”

  “Lower your voice! No. I’m one hundred percent gay. And what does my dad have to do with anything?”

  Benny shrugged. “I don’t know. It just seems like he’d be kinda thrilled if you were straight.” He glanced at Clay again. “So that guy was cheating on his pregnant wife with your ex?”

  “I’m pretty sure he still is.” I studied Benny’s profile for a moment.

  His offhand comment about my father preferring a straight son took me by surprise. Over the past ten or more years, my dad had managed to convince most people that he felt blessed to have been visited by the gay stork at least once. Clay and his wife faded from view. Benny had my complete attention. He flashed a toothy grin when he caught my stare. I couldn’t tell if it was something new or a leftover sensation of the anomaly I’d experienced at the bar earlier, but my pulse went into overdrive. All I could see was Benny. I gulped and licked my lips.

  “Feel like getting outta here?”

  “Are you forfeiting? I was kidding about the hundred. We can make it less, cheapskate,” he said with an eye roll. “Or is it them? So the guy’s a creep. Trust me, there’s a million of ’em out there in this city alone. I’ve met more than my share and—”

  “No, it’s not him… or maybe it is. I had no idea he was married with kids. As much as I’d love to let him have it, confronting him here would only make me look like a monster. I need to think about this and—are you hungry?”

  Benny studied me closely before answering. “Yeah, let’s go.”

  I watched the sway of his hips as he moved toward the rental desk. This time I wasn’t entirely surprised when my dick swelled in my jeans. There was no point in lying to myself. I was inexplicably attracted to Benny. His confident sense of self and his sharp wit appealed to me. It didn’t seem to matter that he was shorter, less muscular, and simply not my usual type. I liked him. More than I should.

  I tore my gaze from Benny’s ass and turned to take one last look at my coworker and his family. Clay must have sensed my scrutiny because he looked up at the same time and flinched. Hmm. That’s more like it, I thought with a feral grin. Gone was my initial restraint. The trace of fear in Clay’s eyes was too delicious to walk away from. My s
ense of balance returned as I adjusted my course to say hello to the happy family man.

  “Clay. What a surprise.” My tone was even and friendly as I offered my right hand in greeting.

  His eyes widened slightly. Maybe it was a silent plea or maybe it was good old-fashioned panic. Either way, I took perverse pleasure in his obvious discomfort made evident by his sweaty palm and the convulsive bobbing of his Adam’s apple. Pathetic bastard.

  “Um yeah… hi.”

  I held eye contact meaningfully before turning my attention to the pregnant woman watching us with interest. When she pushed away from the chair as though she was going to stand, I stopped her with a short wave.

  “Don’t get up. Please. I’m Zeke. Clay and I work together. I just wanted to say a quick hello,” I said politely, offering her a genuine smile. It wasn’t her fault she was married to a grade A piece of shit.

  “Oh, hi! I’m Lauren. This is our son Dallas and that’s Austin climbing up that bench there. They’re seven and five. And this one is due in a couple months!” Lauren’s thick accent and twinkling blue eyes were endearing. She was pretty in a country-girl fashion with long, blonde hair and a sunny grin.

  “Congratulations. I’m going to take a wild guess you’re from Texas,” I said with a half chuckle.

  “I am indeed. We just moved our family to the city to be here with Clay. It’s gonna take some gettin’ used to, but—”

  “There you are!” Benny nudged my elbow hard and gave me a look that seemed to ask if I knew what I was doing. The answer, of course, was “I’m wingin’ this,” but I faked it with a short nod and turned to extend introductions.

  “I was just following you, babe, but I stopped when I saw a familiar face. Benny, this is Clay Brenner and his wife, Lauren.”