A Kind of Romance

by Lane Hayes

  “All right. Did you have a nice chat with Benjamin?”

  “Huh? Yeah.”

  “When will you see him again?”

  “Dad…. Look, don’t get excited about Benny and me. We went out and it was nice, but he has a date tomorrow and—”

  “With another man?” Pop’s incredulous expression made me smile and went a long way toward dispelling my melancholy mood. He had the ability to make his jaw drop in a way that made the tired turn of phrase come to life.

  I shrugged and glanced distractedly at my phone. I had enough time to get back to the office to prepare for my next round of conference calls. I began typing a quick text to Gina, only to have my father smack my hand and yank my cell away.

  “What are you doing?”

  “What are you doing? That’s the question!” he yelled before shoving my phone back at me and throwing his hands in the air. “You’re wasting time. Don’t you see? Benjamin is the one! I can see it plain as the nose on your face. Why can’t you?”

  It was my turn to stare at him incredulously. “Because that’s crazy talk! I like Benny, but come on! I barely know him and—”

  “Don’t tell me you don’t know him. You know. And don’t tell me you don’t like him. I can tell. I’m old, but I’m not blind!”

  I averted my gaze before rolling my eyes, knowing he wouldn’t hesitate to smack me upside the head if he thought I was being disrespectful. I glanced back at him and pasted a plastic smile on my face before trying to figure out which line of insanity I should cross first. The one about Benny being “the one,” or the insinuation I was a moron for not catching on after two measly dates that my formerly homophobic father might know what he was talking about.

  After brief consideration, I took the coward’s way out.

  “I’m seeing him for coffee Sunday morning.”

  “Good! Ask him out again. And do something nice for him. Flowers or something. Is that okay to do—you know?”

  I blew out a stream of air and shook my head in a combination of defeat and ire. “Yeah, Dad. It’s okay to for a man to buy flowers for another man. But just like with a guy and a girl… it isn’t always appropriate. Sometimes it’s just plain awkward. This would be one of those times because… and please listen here…. Benny and I aren’t going to be more than friends.”

  He stared at me for a long moment before reaching over to smack me upside the head.

  “What the heck?” I rubbed at my head theatrically like I had when I was a kid hoping my mom would enter the room at any second to defend me.

  “I didn’t raise a fool. Don’t act like one.”

  There wasn’t much I could say to that. I heaved an exasperated sigh and turned to leave. It was time to get back to my version of normal.

  CARTER AND I agreed to meet at Shaughnessy’s in Greenwich Village the following night. Shaughnessy’s was a gay-friendly sports bar that catered to anyone interested in watching a game or ten on the endless ribbon of flat-screen televisions placed strategically above the bar and throughout the large space. The ultramodern tube pendant lighting and lovingly framed portraits of sports greats were nice, but they gave an aura of sophistication that robbed the bar of its claim of being an authentic Irish pub. I was no designer, but the previous green billiard pendant lights and the haphazardly hung posters and sports memorabilia had screamed legit.

  It was a Saturday night in late spring. Pro basketball and baseball games were being simultaneously televised, and the eye candy was off the charts. Surely there was more than enough stimuli here to keep my mind off my troubles. I took a quick glance around me from my perch at the sleek wood bar and quickly looked away from the tall, dark, handsome man standing near the end. I couldn’t even pretend to be interested. Add that to the list of weird.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “Huh? Nothing. Just watchin’ the game.”

  Carter cocked his head curiously. “No, you’re watching the door. You’re ready to go and we’re only one beer into the night. Why are we here?”

  “You like it.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t suggest it. What’s up?”

  I shook my head and started to deny my head was elsewhere, but something stopped me. I felt more tired and worn-out than usual. Sure, it had been a long, grueling week, but my exhaustion was compounded with a heaviness I couldn’t shake. I filled Carter in on my week, including my run-in with Clay Brenner at the bowling alley and his visit to my office the next morning.

  “Poor Zeke. You’ve had a rough couple of weeks.”

  Carter studied me over the rim of his beer mug and then raised one brow and took a sip. He looked good, but then again, he always did. He was wearing a short-sleeved designer shirt that made his blue eyes pop. It had been years since we’d been a couple, but every once in a while I felt a pang of longing for what might have been. Carter and I were easy friends, but being in a relationship had been taxing. We’d never have been able to hang out sipping beers now if we’d stayed together any longer than we had. Maybe being with an old friend who was a former lover made me realize what I really wanted was both. A lover I considered a friend. Something like what my parents had had. Maybe I’d eventually meet that guy, but I knew without a doubt, it wasn’t Benny.

  The second his name popped into my head, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. I’d vowed to move on and treat this weirdass week like the anomaly it surely was, but I was having a harder time maintaining perspective than usual.

  “George is right about Benny. You like him. And you’re jealous.”

  I turned on my barstool and took a deep breath, preparing to blast him with the twenty ways he seemed to purposefully be missing the point. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. The simple truth was I did like Benny, and yeah, I was irked he was going out with someone else tonight. Stupid.

  I shrugged instead and turned back to face the bar. “Maybe.”

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  I gave Carter a sideways eye roll. “Get drunk? I don’t know why I’m being so weird about this. Between Benny, my old man, my ex, and his married lover… I’m going fucking nuts.”

  “Leave your idiot ex and his loser lover out of it. They aren’t your business anymore. And do yourself a favor… stop worrying about what your dad thinks. Do what makes you happy. You’re quick to say other people’s opinions don’t matter, but actions speak louder than words, Zeke.”

  “Are you saying I’m spineless?”

  “Hardly. I’m saying you have a tendency to fight the wrong battles. Your dad, your ex… forget about them. If you weren’t sitting here with me drinking overpriced beer, where would you be?”

  “Home.”

  “Liar. Try again.”

  “I’d be at a different bar doing the same thing.” I looked out the window and sighed heavily. “Maybe I just need to get laid.”

  “Maybe. But you’re giving off a menacing vibe. It might be better if we go someplace where you don’t have to talk much to a potential partner. Someplace with bright lights and loud music. I’ll buy the next round. Then we’re going dancing!”

  I groaned on cue. I hated dance clubs and Carter knew it. “Buy me three more and we’ll talk about it.”

  He tipped his glass against mine and grinned. “You got it.”

  TWO HOURS and a few drinks later, we were ready to move on. The only problem was… I was sober. I couldn’t say why, but after my second beer, getting plastered no longer seemed like a good idea. I nursed a glass of water with the third drink and was more than a little surprised Carter didn’t question my sudden lack of interest in alcohol. If he was serious about going to a club, he knew I needed liquid courage to get on the dance floor. I was the world’s worst dancer. If I wasn’t stepping on someone’s expensive shoes, I was shuffling my feet cautiously with my arms glued to my side like a character from a 1980s video game. Not pretty.

  As we made our way up Bleecker Street, swapping old college stories, I’d already decided t
o head home after escorting Carter to the next stop. I wasn’t in a hurry, though. The evening was pleasant, and Carter was in one of his funny, nostalgic moods. We were laughing like idiots about a prank involving water balloons that morphed into an ill-timed decision to go skinny-dipping in the English department chair’s private Jacuzzi. We’d been absolutely sloshed and failed to gauge the adverse effect of heat on the balloons we piled into the water.

  “The look on Professor Thompson’s face when those balloons started popping was priceless!”

  “I just can’t remember why we decided to get naked,” I mused, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye. “That had to be your idea.”

  Someone passed me on the sidewalk and apologized for bumping my arm. I glanced up and nodded. Then I stopped in my tracks when I saw the flutter of rainbow flags at the bar across the street. I grabbed Carter’s arm and pointed. He gave me a blank stare and started to walk away again.

  “That’s Gypsy,” I stated unnecessarily.

  “We aren’t going there,” he stated firmly before heading in the opposite direction.

  “Wait! Benny’s there.”

  “First of all, who cares? Didn’t you say he was on a date? Sane people don’t follow guys on dates. And second, Gypsy is a cabaret bar. Not our kind of place. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered in a deadpan voice. “Hey, we’ll have one cocktail and take a quick peek around. The clubs will be boring until midnight anyway.”

  Carter smacked his forehead and heaved a sigh. “You’re going through a rough patch, aren’t you?”

  We sidestepped a group of locals dressed for a night on the town as we crossed Christopher Street and headed toward the neon lights and rainbow flags flanking Gypsy, a renowned Greenwich gay bar famous for show tune sing-alongs. Broadway greats were known to come downtown after a show to lead the bar’s patrons in an impromptu song or two to the accompaniment of an old upright piano. It was one of those rare places that straddled the line between campy and cool with flair. However, as a gay man who avoided camp like the plague, I didn’t come here often. The last time had been with Taylor, I thought with a frown. He’d loved this place. Yet another reason for Carter to question my sanity.

  I made a one-drink signal as we approached the crowded entrance and jockeyed for position behind a couple yammering excitedly about it being Sondheim night.

  Carter growled loudly in my ear. “You owe me big-time, Gulden.”

  “I know. Just hang by the bar while I look around. I won’t be long.”

  I pushed past the mob at the front and then stopped to survey the packed space. It was hard to get a feel for the layout because every available table was taken. There were generous windows along one end of the large space with the bar directly opposite. A buff, middle-aged man built like a linebacker played a familiar tune on the piano at the front while the patrons seated closest sang along loudly. It looked like a scene out of a movie, down to the fishbowl glass filled with dollar bills atop the old upright. I knew there was a second floor where the cabaret shows got a little steamier later at night, but I had a feeling if Benny was here, he’d stay downstairs to sing along loudly with the other musical enthusiasts.

  This kind of place was a mixed bag. It could be full of gay tourists from the Midwest one night, theater queens the next, or a smattering of everything in between, including the regular locals. Tonight looked like a theater crowd. They tended to dress a little nicer and sing along to every song with a passion I found… disconcerting. Don’t get me wrong, I liked musicals just fine, but fanatics were another story. It didn’t matter if the discussion was about politics, religion, or twentieth-century Broadway trivia. The know-it-all who lived to outsmart mere mortals with his or her superior knowledge of current events, the Bible, or God help me, Rogers and Hammerstein, was not the person I wanted to get stuck sitting next to at the bar.

  I scanned the area nearest the windows and spotted Benny sitting alone at a table for two. The chair next to him was vacant, which I took as an invitation from the gods. I scooted sideways in between the cramped tables and flopped dramatically into the seat next to him. Benny turned toward me with a cautious smile that quickly dimmed as recognition dawned.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Good question. I didn’t have a plausible answer, so I ignored it and concentrated on him. He was wearing a snug-fitting, bright orange shirt with an interesting squiggly design and dark jeans. His hair was artfully messy, but there was no added color. I wondered what, if anything that meant.

  “I was in the neighborhood.”

  “Are you drunk?” he asked warily.

  I wasn’t, but… acting inebriated seemed like a better option than trying to explain why I was here. A sober me didn’t do shit like this. But a drunk me definitely might.

  “Maybe I’m just intoxicated by you,” I quipped in an over-the-top lascivious tone.

  “That’s corny. And a little creepy.” He glanced up when a waiter appeared a moment later. “I’ll have a cosmo with sweetened lime juice instead of cranberry and a smidge of grenadine, please.”

  It sounded disgusting, but I heard myself say, “I’ll have the same.”

  When the waiter left, Benny turned to me with a scathing look. I bumped his elbow playfully and tried to think of something to make him smile.

  “You come here often?”

  He huffed a short laugh, but I thought I detected a glimmer of humor. “You may want to update that book of pickup lines you swallowed.”

  “I’ve got a couple more. Let’s see…. Damn, if being sexy was a crime, you’d be guilty as charged. Or how about…. Do you work at Starbucks? Because I like you a latte.”

  He chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. I loved the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. I starred shamelessly for a moment and barely caught myself from reaching out to touch him.

  “Are you here with someone?” he asked.

  “Is that a line?”

  “No. It’s a question.”

  “Oh. Yeah. He’s over there somewhere.” I pointed toward the bar without turning around.

  “You mean the tall hunk waving at you?”

  I turned on cue. Carter was indeed waving manically. I figured he was impatient to move on. I held up a hand to stall him before I swiveled back to face Benny.

  “That’s Carter.”

  “Day-um,” he whistled.

  I chuckled lightly. “Should I be jealous?”

  “That’s a weird question, Zeke. Contrary to the story you made up for your ex’s lover at the bowling alley, we’re not really boyfriends, remember?”

  “I remember. I’m not even sure we’re friends, but—” I brushed his bangs away from his eyes when the desire to touch him overruled reason. “I think I have a crush on you.”

  He held my stare and narrowed his eyes. “You must be drunk.”

  “I’m telling the truth. I like you.”

  “I like you too but—” He smiled at the waiter when he set the pink concoctions in front of us. “We aren’t—”

  “We might,” I challenged, raising my glass in a toast. To what? I had no clue. I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. I was fueled by an intense desire I didn’t understand. “The thing is… I can’t get you outta my head, and I don’t get it. I should have walked right by this place and not thought twice about it. I shouldn’t have spent one minute wondering about your date and hoping you hated the fucker. And it’s not because of my dad either.”

  “What does your dad have to do with anything?” His nose twitched as his brow creased in curiosity. Fuck, he was cute.

  “He doesn’t have anythi—never mind. Where is your date?”

  “He’s on his way.”

  “Hmph. Let’s go somewhere we can talk. It’s too loud and gay here. Come with—”

  “No. I’m gay and I like it. I’m not going anywhere. And I’m not ditching my date or engaging you in a ridiculous conversation.”


  “You’re a tough cookie, Benjamin.”

  “I am. Now beat it. I’ll see you for coffee.”

  “Did I agree to coffee? Let’s talk about that,” I said as I reached absently for my glass. It turned out to be a generous pour. Pinkish liquid sloshed over the brim and onto the table. It was an accident, but the clumsy maneuver gave credence to his assumption that I was under the influence.

  Benny smacked my hand like I was a naughty child and gave me a stern look as he wiped the mess I’d made with his napkin.

  “Go home and sleep it off. If you were of sound mind, you’d admit you don’t really want me… you just want a repeat of Wednesday night.”

  “Yeah, that was hot. But no, I want more next time.” I tilted his chin toward me and gazed meaningfully into his eyes before adding, “I want to blow you too.”

  Benny threw his head back and laughed. “You’re a smooth operator, Gulden.”

  I chuckled. Pretending to be plastered was oddly freeing. And in a setting like this, I could say things I wouldn’t over a cup of coffee.

  “Look. This isn’t normal for me. I don’t have a problem finding willing partners, but I don’t want just anyone. I want you. I think we oughtta explore this… physical attraction. I’ll go one step further and say it’s probably best for our health and well-being.”

  Benny snorted and held up his hand. “Stop. I’m not having a conversation only I will remember in the morning. I’ll say something totally embarrassing and then obsess over whether or not you heard any of it. And when you avoid me, I’ll assume you freaked out in the light of day and were wondering how to let me down easily.”

  “So you’re afraid you’ll fall for me,” I commented in a serious tone.

  He rolled his eyes and pointed toward the bar. “Go find your friend.”

  I ignored him and reached across the table to take a sip of his cosmo. I wanted to needle him, and I wasn’t above resorting to collegiate idiocy tonight. The instant flash of annoyance made me laugh and encouraged me to turn up my act a notch. “Nope. We have to settle this first. I’m gonna prove my sincereness.”