“I am a homo,” Grier spat out. “And the sooner you and Dad accept it the better off we’ll be. I’m sick of this fucking charade.”
“He can’t deal with any more grief right now.”
“It’s not the end of the world, Ali. It’s just my life.”
Ali, short for Alissio, had made it his business to protect his father after dealing with the fallout when Grier had announced he was gay. Santino Dilorio, a normally pleasant man, transformed into an apoplectic tyrant after Grier had been caught with Johnny Callahan on his knees in front of him. Grier had been sure his father would have a heart attack when the school principal explained the circumstances surrounding his weeklong suspension. Grier had listened to his father ranting for days. Santino was old school Italian, staunchly Catholic, and a firm believer that homosexuality was wrong on every level. Never mind what Meredith and the psychologists had advised. He would not condone behavior that was inherently against Mother Nature.
Santino had maintained that Grier’s interest in the same sex was his mother’s fault for coddling her youngest child and saddling him with her English family’s surname, instead of naming him Giovanni, a good Italian name, after his own father. It was almost a self-fulfilling prophecy to his mind. Anyone named Grier would have to be different, and his youngest son was definitely unique. He was no cookie-cutter child, and this was made apparent when three-year-old Grier insisted on painting his room purple, a tribute to his favorite dinosaur, Barney. It was much easier to blame Meredith than to accept that one of his sons was hardwired wrong. He’d hoped Grier’s interest in the same sex was a passing phase, one he’d outgrow as soon as he reached maturity. He’d been encouraged in this belief when Grier became immersed in weightlifting and football. In Santino’s world, queers didn’t involve themselves in such manly pursuits. They were hairdressers and fashion designers, not body builders with a penchant for ink. Grier’s physical appearance was nowhere near Santino’s image of homosexuals. The very idea that Grier would consider any sort of sexual relationship with another guy was incomprehensible. Talk of homosexuality had been laid to rest along with Meredith, who had died of cancer shortly after Grier’s twenty-fourth birthday last year.
Yet Ali knew better. He was well aware that Grier was, and always would be, interested in the same sex, but he’d made it his mission to keep this knowledge away from Santino, who was still recovering from his wife’s sudden passing. The last thing their father needed was to worry himself sick over Grier and his sexual orientation.
Grier shrugged off the disapproving glances, hoping that Ali would drop his line of questioning. He’d be glad when the Taste was over and everyone resumed their normal schedule. Ali would go back to playing stockbroker, making financial dreams come true for strangers, all the while dressed in expensive suits, and Grier could go about his business, far away from Ali’s watchful eye.
Grier’s path had veered left several years ago, and he was still trying to figure out what to do with his life. Meredith had been a huge support, and her death had left a terrible void. She’d been much more than a mother; she was his friend and understood his needs. When she realized her son was gay, she’d been lovingly tolerant, and always took the time to listen as he shared his hopes and dreams for a career in interior design. He’d had to shelve his dream after he saw the way his father reacted to his misdemeanor in school and knew in his heart that he wouldn’t support Grier’s career choice. Meredith had been working on convincing Santino when the cancer struck out of nowhere.
Grier had always been interested in design and color. He’d been so proud of his artistry after he and Meredith had completed their amethyst paint job, changing the boring white walls of his bedroom into a colorful playground for his toys and stuffed animals. Since then, he had believed that the world would be a better place if it were colored right, but it would take a special person to carry it off. He’d fallen in love with texture and fabric designs, leaning toward the bold and experimental, combining hues that normally didn’t match, but somehow, in his expert hands, they did. Yet all his ambition was curtailed by the need to appease Santino and find a career that was manly enough for his father, a decision that continued to haunt him. He’d learned how to drive the massive eighteen-wheelers to keep the peace, but preferred the mindless job of heavy lifting, the lesser of the two evils as far as he was concerned. He dreamed of walking away from it all, talking about it tentatively while his mother was still alive, but her illness and sudden death had put his dreams on hold.
Maybe tomorrow would bring some insight. Lil appeared quite confident, and Grier was surprisingly comfortable in his presence. There seemed to be a connection that went beyond the physical. It was hard to explain since it was so new, but he was optimistic and encouraged, not to mention wildly attracted to the blond, who made his heart beat just a little faster. And yes, he was aware that the man was at least a dozen years older, confident in his sexuality, and a complete unknown. But the fact that he was good friends with the most famous football couple in Chicago gave him some reassurance that he wasn’t hooking up with a serial killer. If nothing else, they could talk shop.
LATER THAT evening, when Lil, Jody, and Clark stood with the crowd listening to Michael McDonald belting out “What a Fool Believes,” he noticed Grier with a group of people. There was a white-haired gentleman and a younger man, probably relatives. The family resemblance was easily apparent in their height and facial features, although neither of the men had Grier’s “It” factor. The other members of the party were Asian, and Lil wondered how they were connected. Grier turned and caught Lil’s eye as if he could sense his presence. He winked at him, but made no attempt to leave his group.
Lil continued to observe the group long after Grier looked away. They were too far away to make out any of their conversation, but he could tell that there was an easy camaraderie amongst all of them. His eyes were drawn to the little boy who kept tugging on Grier’s wife-beater, and he watched as Grier bent down, picked up the kid, and sat him on his shoulders so he could see above the crowd. He must have been around five or six years old with a mop of jet-black hair that fell over his forehead in a classic Beatles haircut.
“What are you looking at?” Jody noticed Lil paying more attention to something over on his right than center stage.
“I’m observing my eye candy over yonder.”
Jody followed Lil’s gaze and noticed Grier immediately. “He seems to have his hands full at the moment.”
“I wonder who he’s with.”
“Aren’t you meeting with him tomorrow?”
“Yup.”
“So ask him then, and stop staring at the poor man. You’ll burn a hole into his backside.”
“Which is quite delectable, I might add.”
“Stop gawking, Lil.”
“You’re no fun at all, Dr. Williams.”
“I’m watching out for my best friend. There’s no point in getting excited over something you can’t have.”
“I wasn’t planning on falling in love with the man, just having wild and passionate sex.”
“Where are you meeting him?”
“Wherever the boats depart for the Architectural Tour. Do you know where that is?”
“No, but we’ll look it up. Why don’t you bring him back to the house when it’s over? We’ll have a barbecue.”
“That sounds like a good idea.”
The music finally stopped, and the crowd began to break up and head toward the street to make the long trek to the parking lot, or bus stops for public transportation. It was the same sea of people from earlier in the day; Lil and his companions sort of flowed along with the masses.
They came very close to Grier’s group, but he appeared unwilling, or unable, to stop and talk, so Lil gave him a wide berth. He was able to discern facial features, however, and the kid who was still on Grier’s shoulders looked very much like the young woman by Grier’s side, who in turn looked like a female version of the young man brin
ging up the rear. It all happened in a blink of an eye, much too fast to make any sort of assumption, but Lil was struck by the Asian woman’s beauty. He’d have to ask Grier about her tomorrow.
THE SUN was beating down on Lil’s shoulders as they stood in line to get on the boat. It was another scorcher of a day, with high humidity levels, but there was a slight breeze which made it somewhat tolerable. He wasn’t used to this kind of weather, being from San Francisco, but he’d remembered the sunscreen and had applied the non-greasy SPF 45 lotion liberally on his arms, the back of his neck, and his legs. Jody had loaned him one of Clark’s baseball caps to protect his face and head.
Grier had shown up in another wife-beater, a black one this time, with the words Vinita Ice Cream scrawled in neon green. It had big circles in vivid primary colors simulating ice cream scoops splotched throughout.
“Your T-shirt is very attractive.”
“I designed it,” Grier said proudly. “You like it?”
“As I said yesterday, what’s not to like?”
“I meant the T-shirt.”
“I know.” Lil smiled. He couldn’t see Grier’s eyes behind the Oakleys, but the seductive tone of his voice was a pleasant indication that nothing had changed since yesterday’s meet and greet. “I thought you moved furniture?”
“Among other things.”
“I like a man of many talents,” Lil flirted.
“That’s me. I’m a veritable jack-of-all-trades.”
The line started moving again, and when they got on the boat they were given a choice of sitting below, in the cabin, or up on top, exposed to the elements. “Do you have a preference?” Grier asked.
“Even though the sun is deadly and will surely age me overnight, I’d rather sit up on the deck.”
“Good choice.” Grier steadied Lil with a hand on his lower back, guiding him up the narrow iron steps onto the open deck. Their seats were toward the rear of the boat, and they conversed while they waited for the rest of the passengers to be seated.
“Tell me about Vinita Ice Cream,” Lil said. “Does it belong to the group of people you were with last night?”
“Yes. The Garcias are friends, as well as neighbors, and my family helps them each year with the booth.”
“Who does the little boy belong to?”
“Luca is Jillian’s son. She’s Jake’s twin.”
“Jake?”
“My best friend.”
“Oh, right.”
“I’ve known that family since I was four years old.”
“How old are you, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I just turned twenty-five.”
“When’s your birthday?”
“June eighteenth.”
“A Gemini!”
“Is that a problem?”
“No, it’s a treat. Geminis are wonderfully complex.”
“And here I thought I was just bipolar.”
Lil laughed out loud. “A little duality, perhaps?”
“Something like that,” Grier said, smiling. “What’s your sign?”
“Pisces.”
“I don’t know anything about astrology,” Grier admitted.
“They say that Pisces are the best lovers.”
“Is it truth or hype?”
“I’ve never had any complaints,” Lil stated frankly.
“I like men with experience,” Grier said.
“Do you?” Lil took off Grier’s sunglasses for a minute so he could look into the dark eyes that were appraising him frankly. “Then you’ve just won the jackpot. It’s one of the few advantages of being over thirty.”
“Are you thirty-one?”
Lil handed back the sunglasses but not before he traced Grier’s scruff with gentle fingers and brushed his lips against the luscious mouth in a soft kiss. The brunet leaned into his touch, and Lil was pleased to see the spark of desire in the obsidian eyes before he hid them again behind the smoked glass.
“I’m thirty-seven and holding,” Lil whispered.
“Impossible.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“It’s the truth,” Grier insisted. “You don’t look your age.”
“I certainly hope not,” Lil said. “Nonetheless, time marches on, and plastic surgeons get more affordable each day.”
“You’re not a candidate yet.”
“You’re sweet,” Lil said, basking in the compliment.
“Tell me about Lyndon Lyle Lampert,” Grier asked. “Do you have a partner?”
“Heavens no.”
“Don’t you believe in love?”
“I do, but I haven’t met the right guy yet, and I won’t settle.”
“Does he have to walk on water?”
Lil laughed. “Not necessarily, but he’s got to make my heart flutter, my breath catch in my throat, my cock surge with interest, and not always in that order. Two out of the three ingredients are a requirement.”
“I suppose I could always glamour you.”
“True Blood fan?”
“Vampire Diaries,” Grier admitted. “My heart jumps around whenever the bad vamp shows up on the screen.”
“Damon is rather hot, isn’t he? Makes you want to bare your neck willingly.”
“And other parts as well.”
“Slutty boy,” Lil teased. “Do you have anyone special?”
“If I did I wouldn’t be here, would I?”
“Oh, you’re one of those good boys who believes in monogamy.”
“Don’t you?”
“I’ve never found anyone who’d make me even consider it.”
“That’s hard to understand.”
“We can’t all be Clark and Jody.”
“I wish I had a little bit of Clark in me.”
“Hon, you’re just as gorgeous, except he’s got the whole Viking God thing going, whereas you’re more Italian bad boy.”
“Shit,” Grier mumbled. “I’m nothing like Clark.”
“In what sense?”
“He’s out and proud.”
“And you’re not?” Lil was very surprised considering Grier had no problem kissing him in public.
“I take that back,” Grier clarified. “I’m out with everyone except my father.”
“And his approval means the most?”
“Yes.”
“What about your mother?”
“She passed away last year.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I miss her a lot.” Grier looked out toward the horizon, and Lil could feel the melancholy that swamped the young man as memories surfaced. “Her biggest regret in dying so young was leaving me unsettled.”
Lil put his arm around Grier and drew him close. “She was your friend.”
Grier nodded.
“Don’t think that Clark’s journey wasn’t difficult, Grier. His father is a homophobic megalomaniac. I can’t imagine your father being half as bad.”
“I read about Clark’s dad… he’s a little controlling.”
“A little is an understatement.”
“My dad is a good person, Lil. He loves me, and my brother, and has worked very hard to provide a future for us. Unfortunately, he doesn’t understand that my sexual orientation is nothing like his. Mom and I were trying to figure out how to convince Dad to let me finish my schooling, but then she got sick.”
“You’re not done with college yet?”
“Two years of general ed courses is all I’ve accomplished so far. When I asked to transfer to the Illinois Institute of Art, he had a fit.”
“Why?”
“Only queers go for design.”
“Give me a fucking break. Hasn’t he heard of Frank Lloyd Wright? He was one of the greatest architects who ever lived, and he was from the Midwest, for Pete’s sake, and from everything I’ve read about him, an absolute hound with women.”
“Lil, even if he’d heard of him, it wouldn’t make a difference. All Dad wants is someone to take over Dilorio Trucking, but even Ali
won’t touch it.”
“Who’s Ali?”
“My brother, Alissio.”
“You boys certainly have unusual names.”
“Lil isn’t that commonplace either.”
“Touché.”
“Why do they call you Lil? I think I prefer Lyndon.”
“Oh, please, Lyndon makes me sound like an old fart. When I was younger, and utterly outrageous, my friends started calling me Lillian. It got shortened through the years.”
“Lillian,” Grier frowned slightly. “I don’t see it at all.”
“Enough talk about me, okay?” Lil said, embarrassed about bringing up ancient history. Grier was only eight years old when Lil was prowling The Castro and earning that nickname. He leaned into Grier and said, “Let’s postpone this conversation until after the tour, alright?” The boat had finally filled up and was slowly moving away from the dock.
“Sure.”
Earplugs were passed out and attached, and they settled in for the two hours. The narrator described the forty different buildings they were about to see, along with a brief history of Chicago architects and their work. It was fascinating to Lil, and even to Grier, who’d been on this tour several times. Halfway through, Grier went down to the bar and purchased two beers. Lil accepted his Heineken gratefully.
“I’m particularly interested in the Chicago Board of Trade Building and Sears Tower,” Lil mentioned. “I’d like to tour them on land if possible.”
“We can arrange something,” Grier offered. “They changed Sears to Willis Tower, you know?”
“When did that happen?”
“In 2009.”
“Whatever it’s called, I’d like to see it. Would you come with me?”
“I’ve got to work around my shifts at the Taste.”
“Since you’re the tour guide, we’ll work around your schedule.”
By the time the boat ride ended, they’d each had three beers and were feeling no pain. Both men were a little sunburned, but Lil was certain the tour wouldn’t have been as much fun without the wind on his face and the sight of the bright sun bouncing off the Chicago River. He’d learned a lot about the architecture and had also gotten a glimpse into Grier’s world. His impulsive hookup was turning out to be a lot more than just a pretty face.
Dreamspinner Press Year Four Greatest Hits Page 134