The Fifteenth of June

by Brent Jones

  “I’m starving.”

  “Want to hit up the cafeteria? Maybe they’re serving those heat lamp French fries we all know and love.”

  She steadied a shaking hand on his arm. “Sounds good. Lead the way.”

  They walked to the front of the building, mere hours from finishing their week of training.

  * * *

  Chapter 15

  “Oh, believe me, I understand. That must have been so embarrassing for you.” Drew worked to placate a disgruntled caller. He slouched in his chair, cupping his head in his hand, broadcasting artificial empathy through his headset.

  He glanced over at Kara, who was watching him from two workstations over. It was Monday, their first day on the job, and new calls were coming in slowly. So far, Drew had managed to handle all of them without effort or incident. “Yes, I have two kids myself,” he explained. “I know if either of my daughters witnessed my card declining at Target, I’d be upset, too.”

  Their training group had been divided that morning. Numerous businesses outsourced their customer service initiatives to Transtel, which meant that trainees were needed on a variety of campaigns. And those predicted to perform at the highest levels were assigned to their largest—and most lucrative—corporate clients.

  No matter what campaign a team member worked on, the job was self-explanatory. Follow the script on the computer, then—depending what the customer said—choose from a list of concerns at the bottom of the screen. Click whatever option most closely matched the caller’s problem, and move on to another screen filled with robotic jargon-filled prompts.

  Drew, Kara, and Bubbles had all been assigned to receive calls for a certain credit card company, notorious for awarding high credit limits to unworthy recipients. They were frontline customer service agents for cardholders, granted access to billing details, and able to perform simple tasks, such as setting travel notifications. But for anything more complicated—fraud, credit limit increases, and reward programs, for example—it was their job to escalate the call to an offsite department.

  Drew was overjoyed. As far as he was concerned, his only job was to convince each caller that he or she needed to speak to someone else. It was like getting paid to shirk responsibility.

  He continued to diffuse his caller. “Yes, ma’am. You are so right. And you know what, I don’t normally do this, but I’m going to connect you with our VIP support team. They have all sorts of powers I don’t. If anyone can make this right, it’s them. They might even be able to compensate you for your hardships. Let me transfer you there right now.”

  Kara smirked. “VIP support, huh?”

  “It worked,” Drew replied. “Fucking child’s play.” He took three big swallows from his treasured water bottle, savoring the burn that accompanied each one.

  Hungry Paul paced around the corner. He had been darting between his newest team members all day—remarkably quick for his size—offering assistance where it was needed. “Nice job, Drew.”

  “Thanks, Paul.”

  “Yeah, I overheard most of that last call. You’re great with people.”

  “I try.”

  “But you can’t lie.”

  “Lie?” Drew donned his best look of perplexity.

  “Yeah. VIP support lines and that kind of thing. Even talking about your kids—”

  “They don’t know if I have kids.”

  “Do you?”

  “None that I know of.”

  “The problem arises when they call back—and believe me, they always call back. If they get you again, are you going to remember everything you told them?”

  Thinking that far into the future made Drew’s head hurt. “Probably not.”

  “Exactly. Always tell the truth and you won’t need a good memory. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  Hungry Paul walked away.

  “You’re on fire,” Kara said. She eyed Drew’s water bottle. “That isn’t filled with some sort of happy juice, is it?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Feel like sharing?” She bolted upright.

  Drew recognized what was happening. A loud beep had rung in her ear, signifying the arrival of her next caller. That same beep had startled him more than once that day.

  Kara spun around in her seat, jabbing at the cumbersome digital display on her desk. She attempted to unmute her headset but it looked like she was having trouble. “Oh shit. I think I just hung up on someone.”

  Drew laughed. “At least you didn’t lie to them.”

  She scrunched her face at him. It reminded him of how she looked when she was high.

  Beep. A new caller. That’s what I get for laughing at her. Drew answered the phone with all the cheer he could muster. He prompted the caller for personal information—part of the mandatory security check—entering her responses on his computer. All at once, Kara’s unmistakable scent filled his nostrils. She passed behind him, dropping a folded piece of paper on his desk.

  “Uh, hang on one sec.” Drew placed the call on hold and unfolded the note.

  Follow me, it read with a small heart underneath.

  Drew returned to his caller. “Uh, ma’am, I’m so sorry, but I’m going to have to give you a call back. There’s been a fire alarm in the building and I’m told we have to evacuate.” He ended the call, dropped himself out of queue, and followed Kara around the corner with his water bottle in hand.

  She was a few paces down a nearby hallway, standing at the door to the nearest women’s restroom. She beckoned for him to follow before going inside.

  Drew looked around with trepidation. He took another swig of vodka, marched to the door, and entered the bathroom behind her.

  It was empty.

  He was headed toward the stalls when Kara reached out and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him inside the one closest to the entrance. She shut the door, locked it, and grabbed his water bottle, placing it on the toilet behind her.

  “Kara—”

  She silenced him by pressing her mouth against his, knocking him backward against the closed door. Her fingers locked between his and she guided his hand down the front of her dress, cradling it around a tender breast. He clasped her warm flesh as she ran her hands through his hair, swirling her tongue around his, their breathing heavy. She nibbled his lower lip, tugging it into her mouth. Drew slid his free hand down the outside of her dress. He traced her figure with his palm, teasing her slender waist. She extended a hand downward, stroking him dutifully. She took a step backward and dropped to her knees on the tiled floor. Her hand on his belly, she silently directed him to remain propped against the door. Belt, button, zipper—she ripped his pants down in one fierce motion.

  “Are you, uh—”

  Kara looked up at him, her intense green eyes overwhelming his senses. She placed a slender hand around his shaft, gripping it ardently, and brought her other hand to her lips, motioning for him to hush. She wrapped her mouth around him, and Drew whimpered with pleasure. Her mouth moved back and forth, slobbering and slurping, droplets of her warm saliva pooling on his skin. I can’t believe this is happening. Drew wavered between closing his eyes and watching Kara, not wanting to miss an instant of her frenzied performance.

  The bathroom door opened and Drew heard two women enter. It sounded as though their footsteps stopped in front of the mirror.

  The first woman spoke. “So I told the dumb bitch I couldn’t do anything for her. Like, if she lost her credit card, it’s her own fault, right?”

  Bubbles.

  “Yeah,” the second woman said. “I’ve already had to escalate three calls to Paul today.”

  Drew didn’t recognize the second voice.

  Kara signaled for Drew to remain silent.

  “. . . if you ask me, this place is a fucking joke. I hate it here,” Bubbles said.

  “Today’s only our first day on the phones. It’ll probably get better.”

  “I doubt that, especially since . . .”

  Drew tried to tune it
out. Oh fuck, I’m gonna come . . .

  Drew motioned to Kara that he was about to finish, thinking she might prefer to remove him from her mouth. But she held him between her moist lips, raising her eyes to meet his, her expression saying, Do it! I’m ready.

  “. . . so I guess I’ll stick it out for now,” Bubbles whined.

  “That’s probably the smartest thing.”

  Drew’s face contorted in pleasurable stupor, his toes wiggling as he arched his back, gasping. He shook with elation, rattling the stall door.

  Bubbles and her friend fell silent. “Oh God, I think someone’s getting head in there,” he heard Bubbles say. She had likely noticed his feet and her knees below the stall.

  “Gross,” the other woman said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Kara freed Drew from her mouth at last, beaming, pleased with herself. He panted, speechless, sweat on his brow.

  “What—what did I do to deserve that?”

  “Don’t mention it, Drew Thomson.” Kara stood and leaned in to kiss him but stopped short, laughing. “I’m kidding. I know you don’t want me to kiss you after giving you a blowjob.”

  “Maybe just take a drink first,” he teased.

  “Good idea.” Kara picked up the water bottle and took several swallows. She held the last one in her mouth and swished it around. She kissed Drew on the lips, her hand resting on his stubbly cheek.

  Drew was torn—grateful for this unexpected miracle, but wanting more. He kissed her back and slid a hand under her dress, allowing his fingers to wander in search of her panties, intending to pull them down, but discovering bare flesh instead.

  “I told you,” she said. “I don’t wear underwear, at least not if I don’t have to.” She pulled his hand from under her dress and held it against her chest. “We’ve both been out of queue for over ten minutes. Paul’s going to start asking questions.”

  Drew frowned. “When can we, uh, do this again?”

  She gave Drew a spirited shove. “That’s the problem with boys. You give them a little, and it’s all they think about.”

  “Are you free one night this week?”

  Kara thought for a moment. “Yes, one night this week, I’ll be all yours. Promise.” She hesitated. “Are you going to take me on a date first?”

  “Uh, sure—I can do that.”

  “I’m kidding, Drew Thomson.” She laughed again. “How about I just come spend the night at your place? We’d have more fun, I think.”

  You’re going to beg me for the name of my interior decorator. “That would be great. Just be sure to forget your pajamas.”

  “I already told you I sleep naked, Drew Thomson.” Kara rolled her eyes. “It’s like you don’t even read the notes I pass you.” She winked and unlocked the stall door. “I’m going to head back before we both get fired.”

  Drew nodded and watched her leave the restroom. She was holding his treasured water bottle captive, but as far as he was concerned, she could keep it.

  * * *

  Chapter 16

  A familiar face emerged from the elevator, one that hospital staff had grown accustomed to seeing on the fifth floor. “Hello there, Drew,” a woman in scrubs called from the nurses’ station. He couldn’t recall her name, but she was large, jovial, and had a Caribbean accent. Her liveliness seemed dissonant with the bleak energy of the cancer ward. “How was work today?”

  Would it be inappropriate to tell her I got my dick sucked at work? “Oh, all right, I guess. Same as always.”

  “That’s good,” she said. “I bet your dad will be happy to see you.”

  If he’s awake.

  Drew could have walked the convoluted route to his father’s room blindfolded. But he kept his eyes wide open, unable to ignore the wretchedness around him. A number of the patients changed on every visit. Some, who he had noted days prior, would be missing, having checked out one way or another. And new arrivals would be settling in around every corner. It was like playing Russian roulette with cancer instead of a gun.

  As he approached his father’s room, Holly emerged, halting her rapid pace to greet him. She offered him the same insincere smile as always. “Nice to see you.”

  Is it? Because it would be a lot nicer if Dad wasn’t here. “It’s nice to see you, too,” he replied. “How’s Dad?”

  Holly’s face hardened. “He’s hanging in there.”

  “How much—”

  “He might not have a lot of time left, I’m afraid.” She frowned, folding her arms. “He’s a wonderful man. Keeps everyone here in stitches.”

  “I can imagine,” Drew said, but he couldn’t.

  “So just make the most of the time you have with him, okay?”

  He gave her a subtle nod.

  “Well, go on in and say hello. He was awake earlier, but he’s napping now.” She started walking away, adding, “It’s so great that you and your brother came to see him at the same time.”

  Wonderful news.

  Logan was bent over the bedrail, watching their father sleep. The privacy curtain was again closed around Patrick who, in all likelihood, was every bit as unconscious as Russell.

  Drew plodded forward, taking the spot next to Logan. He observed their father’s condition—it appeared no better or worse than on his last visit.

  “Andrew.”

  “Logan.” Drew glanced at his brother from the corner of his eye. “How’s your face?”

  “It’s fine, thank you.”

  “You actually found time in your busy schedule for a visit, huh?”

  “I’ve visited Russell a few times. We must show up at different times of the day.” A silent standoff endured between them for a moment, Logan surrendering first. “How long have you known?”

  “Known what?”

  “You called me a faggot at the cemetery. Second time this year.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  Logan slowed his speech, putting emphasis on each word. “So how long have you known?”

  Drew felt like a toddler trying to make sense of counting. “You’re gay?”

  Logan turned his head toward Drew. “Don’t act so surprised.”

  But he was surprised. “I think I should be asking you the same thing. How long have you known?”

  Logan diverted his eyes to the far end of the room, calculating his response. “Since I was sixteen or so. Thereabouts.”

  Drew shot Logan a look of contempt, uncertain how he had spent the last ten years in the dark. “Why didn’t you tell me before now?”

  Logan took a deep breath and curled his lower lip, indecisive. “When I—I officially came out, the kids at school weren’t exactly kind about it. Most of them had already made up their minds about me—”

  “I had already graduated by then.”

  “That’s right. You weren’t there.” Another deep breath. “I came home one day and told Russell, and he gave me two choices. I could either take it back, which I knew I couldn’t, or I could stop living under his roof.” Logan’s words came out slow, intentional, and distressed.

  Drew blinked. “That’s bullshit. You left Dad—that’s on you, not him.”

  “I wish that were true, Andrew.” It was Logan’s turn to blink, as if lost in painful memory. “If I had abandoned Russell, as you say I did, I would at least have the chance to apologize to him now. You know, before it’s too late.” Logan’s eyes filled with moist regret. “Instead, I get to watch him die, knowing he didn’t want me for a son.”

  Drew wanted to lash out, to tear Logan to pieces. To make him eat his words. He couldn’t accept what he was hearing. But on some level, he knew Logan was telling the truth—even if he wasn’t ready to admit it out loud.

  “I think Mom knew. We were young when she died, of course. Just kids back then. But I remember her telling me that she loved me no matter what . . .” A tear spilled down Logan’s cheek. “Even if I was different from the other boys. Then she passed, and it never came up again. Not until I was a teenager.”

  Dre
w lowered his eyes to their father, fighting to comprehend the shifting paradigm before him. Russell’s breathing was ragged, but he was otherwise blissful and sedated. Yet somehow he was a different man than just moments before. Drew felt a sudden surge of guilt. He and Logan had spent their adult years at odds, persistent tension between them. Had Russell been the original source of that tension? Then again, he was the man who had taught Drew to be complacent, amenable to whatever came next in life. How could he have shut out one of his sons?

  “Dad never told me,” Drew whispered.

  “He was embarrassed, Andrew. He didn’t want to believe it.”

  “You never told me.”

  “I—I couldn’t. You wouldn’t have understood.”

  What Drew was beginning to understand was that he and Logan were, in some ways, living a paralleled existence—both marred by the loss of their mother and stunted in life by their father. “I might have,” he said. “But you didn’t give me a chance. Why are you telling me this now?”

  Logan brooded for a moment. “Russell’s on his deathbed, Andrew. It’s given me a lot to think about. And there’s something else you should know.”

  “What?”

  “You have a brother-in-law.”

  It took Drew a moment to translate what that meant. “You’re married?”

  “When I left home, I met Stephen.”

  “Stephen?” Drew had never met Stephen, but knew him by name. “I thought Stephen was your roommate.”

  “Yes, at first. He was a few years older than me. He took me in while I finished high school, and then college afterwards. But we’ve been together nine, almost ten years now. And we officially got married last year.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes. Nothing flashy, despite what you might think about me. It was just the two of us at city hall, and it was exactly how we wanted it.” Logan debated before adding, “You’d like him.”

  Drew glanced at Logan’s left hand. “You don’t wear a ring.”

  “I don’t feel the need to draw attention to it. Last thing I need is strangers judging me. I mean, my own father couldn’t accept me. Why should anybody else? I was about to start a career in law where image counts for everything. And besides, Stephen and I know the truth, that’s all that matters. We don’t need to broadcast it to anyone else.”