“Win-win.”
“For me, anyway. Maybe not so great for my jock-father. One year he got me this giant G.I. Joe—it was like a Ken-doll, with uniforms. I didn’t know what to do with poor Joe and his macho self until it occurred to me—with a seam ripper and some safety pins, you could refit Barbie costumes for him.”
“That’s awesome!” laughed Theo. “Wait, didn’t G.I. Joe have like a little scruffy beard?”
“I know! Hot—right? I was miles ahead of Conchita Wurst. Anyway, I was just helping Joe do his duty. Like the posters said—be all you can be!”
“G.I. Josie joins the Marines!” laughed Theo.
“The few, the proud, the fabulous! Ooooh-rah!” I said, but unlike the Marines, I threw one hand over my head as I said it. “I always think that works a lot better with the hand. I don’t know why the Marines don’t do it that way.”
“Ooooh-rah!” we said together, hands up high, laughing.
“Good lord.” Suddenly Jeffrey Bornic was standing at our table—and all the sunlight and happiness was sucked right out of the room. “It’s a twink convention.”
“I’m not a twink,” said the two twinks simultaneously.
“You two, it’s like bumping into the scary twins from The Shining.”
I looked at Theo, whose eyes were as bright as lighthouses.
“Halloween!” we screamed together discreetly.
“Jinx, you owe me a Diet Coke,” I added.
“The pair of you, please stop speaking in unison, before I call a priest.”
“And we’re both left-handed,” I volunteered, and he made a cross in the air.
“I suppose it was inevitable you two would find each other.”
“Shut up, Jeff,” said Theo turning back to his lunch. Kid apparently had no fear of attorneys.
“Whoa,” I said. “So how do you guys…?”
“Theo is my best friend’s annoying little brother,” said Jeffrey. “I’ve known him since he was a child—not very long.”
“Hardy-har-har,” said Theo, demonstrating his maturity.
“You remember my best friend Roger?” I explained. “Jeff is the guy Roger dumped.”
“He didn’t dump me, we came to the mutual—”
“Don’t even try, Jeffrey, don’t even try.”
“Whatever,” said Jeffrey.
“Oh my God, Tommy, you’ve got to fill me in on the details.”
“Well, since you asked—!”
“Yeah, or not, too,” interrupted Jeffrey before I could get another word out. How rude. I took another breath, prefatory to telling the whole story anyway, but Jeff knocked it right out of my head by saying, “Theo and I have also been sleeping together for a while.”
Well that would explain—no, actually, that wouldn’t explain anything. I looked at Theo.
“We’re sharing my sister’s sleeper couch,” he clarified, with a peevish look to the tall blond.
“True,” said Jeffrey. “But, in point of fact, I have seen Theo’s…” and here he made a vague gesture with one index finger in the general direction of Theo’s lap.
“Shut! Up!” said Theo, not too quietly.
“I have just one thing to say,” said Jeffrey, and he whispered. “So pink.”
I realize in retrospect that I probably shouldn’t have laughed.
“Shut-up-shut-up-shut-up!” yelled Theo. And he actually picked up a french fry and flung it at Jeffrey, about as hard as you can fling a french fry anyway. (I know, turkey with pasta, and fries. Oh to be seventeen, or however old this kid wasn’t.) The fry in question bounced off the chest of Jeff’s pink dress shirt and fell to the table.
It’s probably not necessary for me to explain that a food fight in the cafeteria of a more or less stodgy corporate law firm was considered more or less ‘not done.’ Least not on your first day.
“Did you just throw that french fry at me?” asked Jeffrey, incredulously, if somewhat stupidly.
“You’re lucky it wasn’t the cherry cobbler!”
Jeffrey picked up the offending fry—and ate it.
“Theo,” I intervened cautiously, “you’re going to find out just how ‘temp’ the word ‘temp,’ can be.”
And sure enough who should suddenly be standing there at Jeffrey’s elbow, but our old friend (and immediate supervisor) Jocelyn.
“Theo, can you step down to my office for a moment?”
And I figured that was that. Too bad, because this job could have been a hoot with feisty Theo around.
But you know, sometimes in life, people surprise you. Take Jeffrey Bornic. I’d known the guy for a while, but I’d never seen him do anything that wasn’t completely self-interested. Until now. He turned to Jocelyn, all blue-eyed charm.
“Joss, I’m sorry, this is totally my fault. Theo and I go way back—because of Rebecca, you know—and we sometimes horse around like brothers. I’m so sorry. Please, as a favor to me?”—and he did one of those puppy dog looks with the worried forehead—“please don’t hold this against Theo. Just forget this, and I promise it won’t happen again.”
Who would have guessed that Jeffrey Bornic even had a puppy dog look in his repertoire? Well he did, and he was crushing it. You could watch Jocelyn melt under those sky-blues of his.
“Well, okay, Jeffrey. If you say so.”
“You are the best!”
She’s also admin. and he’s an atty. and I had learned that the difference made a lot of difference at a law firm.
“Thank you, Jeffrey,” I said when Jocelyn had gone. The Bornic took that as an invitation. He pulled up a chair, sat down and stared at Theo, apparently expecting some hint of gratitude from the Iowa delegation—which was so not happening. Theo seemed perfectly content with his fork and his tetrazzini, and he smiled at Jeffrey while he chewed.
Ever the peacemaker, I tried again.
“Theo was just telling me about his showcase,” and I gave Jeffrey a postcard from Theo’s stack. “You probably knew about this already?”
“No,” said Jeffrey, and looked at the card. Theo reached over and took the card from Jeffrey’s hand and put it back on top of the others. “Rebecca told me you wrote songs,” Jeffrey said, and he picked up the postcard again. “Are they any good?”
“They’re brilliant, but I’m sure you wouldn’t understand them,” and he took the card from Jeffrey’s hand and put it back on the pile. Again.
What was the deal with these two?
“Look,” said Jeffrey, “I’m trying to be nice, okay? I didn’t have to save your ass with Jocelyn, but I did, didn’t I? I’m not all bad.”
“I’m supposed to be grateful because you kept me from getting fired from this stupid day job that I don’t want anyway? Gee, thanks Jeff.”
“Hey guys.” It was Enrique from IT. Our hottie trainer. Sigh. My God those eyes, those eyelashes. “I hope I was okay today. I’m still really new at this.”
Before I could tell him he was fabulous and ask if he had anything else he wanted to teach me—Jeffrey was on his feet doing his best welcome-to-the-castle smile.
“I don’t think we’ve met.” Jeffie extended his princely hand. “Jeffrey Bornic, Litigation.”
“Hi. Enrique, Tech Systems Trainer.” He shook Jeffrey’s hand, but he wasn’t much interested. Now, loathe as I might be to admit it, Jeffrey Bornic was not a bad looking guy, but Enrique had a noticeable preference and that preference was for lip-biting, lost-in-the-woods redheaded boys, and his focus turned immediately back in that direction. “I hope that wasn’t information overload, Theo. I saw your eyes glaze over a couple times.”
“It’s fine,” said Theo. “I’m sure I’ll get the whole doc system once I’ve worked on it for a bit.”
“How about you, Tommy? I know it can be a lot, and I sort of gave you the whole thing all at once.”
“Sometimes that’s just how I like it.”
It just came out of my mouth, like I was possessed, I swear. The devil made me say it, clearly. I thought Theo might shoot Dr Pepper out his nose; hunky hunky Enrique threw back his head and gave a manly laugh, which was incredibly sexy; and Jeffrey Bornic, a boy born to give dirty looks, flashed me one of his dirtiest.
“You okay?” Enrique asked Theo solicitously, one warm, masculine hand, lightly dusted with dark hair, resting on Theo’s shoulder. This guy was good.
It took Theo a couple seconds for his coughing to subside before he nodded and took another sip. It was amazing to see the colors that kid’s face could get. He too gave me a bit of a stink face; I shrugged in my innocence.
“Enrique, I don’t think I’ve seen you around before,” Jeffrey intervened, trying to pull the conversation back in his direction.
“I just started. These two were my first victims.”
“You were fine, Enrique, really,” I said.
If only you’d take your shirt off now and then.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll have questions.”
I definitely did. Like ‘How’s dinner and a movie sound?’ Or ‘Just how big is your hard drive?’
“Call me when something comes up, okay, Theo?” Enrique smiled to Theo and—I’m not making this up, I swear—he winked at him. “Or you can always come find me in IT.”
Any woman would have busted Enrique’s gorgeous ass for harassment long before things got this far, but Theo still didn’t seem to notice that he was the object of any special attentions.
And although I might have felt bad because Enrique didn’t wink at me, poor Jeffrey Bornic was left standing on the side of the road, looking like Claudette Colbert had just shown him how to hitchhike. Guess he didn’t get ignored very often.
Enrique gave Theo’s shoulder a squeeze and he walked away to go stand in the line of duty. Or at least in the line for the turkey tetrazzini.
Jeffrey and I watched him go, enjoying Enrique’s khaki-encased backside.
“Kinda makes your teeth ache, doesn’t it?” I said.
“Who—was—that?” said Jeffrey sitting back down at the table.
“That’s Enrique the computer trainer,” said Theo. “Keep up.”
“Wow. They don’t make nerds like they used to. I haven’t seen him before.”
“He’s new, in IT,” said Theo.
And Jeffrey Bornic, the hotshot, ambitious, smart-as-a-whipsnake lawyer-boy, got the all-time stupidest look on his face.
“What?” said Theo.
“The new guy in IT?” And he smote his forehead. You don’t often see someone actually smite his forehead, but Jeffrey Bornic, with an audible smack, smote for all he was worth. “That’s the new guy from IT!”
“What?” asked Theo, laughing.
“Rebecca was going to set me up with the new guy from the IT department—‘But nooooo,’ I said. ‘There are no gay guys in IT,’ I said. ‘Why would I ever go out with somebody from IT?’ I said. And instead I went to lunch, and I thought you were—oh man!”
“You could have had a date with—that,” I gestured toward Enrique, still negotiating for his side dishes.
“Tell me about it,” said Jeffrey wistfully.
“Of all sad words on tongue or pen…” I said, while together Jeffrey and I contemplated the sharp bitterness of fate—and the breadth of Enrique’s shoulders. Sigh.
“And you got to meet me instead,” Theo smiled.
“Lucky me.”
“Problem is, Jeffrey, the trainer seems to be rather besotted. Our Theo has quite captured his fancy.”
“That’s a lie,” said Theo, tucking into the above-referenced cherry cobbler. “I didn’t go anywhere near his fancy.”
“We need to face the hard truth, Jeffrey, that you and I were totally ignored, while the hottie Enrique wunk at young Theo.”
“Wunk?”
“Past tense of wink,” I explained.
“He’s too tall anyway,” said Theo. “Too macho, too—whatever. All those muscles—not really my thing.”
Jeffrey and I, who didn’t have any objections either to macho or muscles, looked dismayed at Theo—who went on blithely enjoying the cobbler.
Jeffrey scooted his chair back and stood.
“Later, Jeff,” said Theo, without looking up.
And Jeffrey sat back down.
“My name is Jeffrey actually,” said Jeffrey actually.
“I can’t call you Jeffrey,” said Theo. “It’s too pompous, too overstuffed, too much like you. And that awful pink shirt. You had that made for you, didn’t you.” He tugged at Jeffrey’s monogrammed cuff. “Your initials are J.A.B.?”
“Uh, yeah, Jeffrey Anthony—”
“Jab. Suits you. I’ll call you Jeff.”
“Roger called him Jeff,” I said delicately, hoping to help.
“Thank you, Tommy, for reminding us all.”
“Is that why I can’t call you Jeff?” Theo seemed to find this wildly unjust. “Because the guy who dumped you called you Jeff?”
“Everyone calls me Jeffrey. What’s the big deal?”
“I know. Why don’t I just call you ‘unbelievable fucktard’? Unless some ex-boyfriend’s already got dibs on that one?”
Before I could stop myself, I was sputtering.
Jeffrey looked to me in head-shaking astonishment.
“Enjoy your lunch, boys,” and he started off toward the steam tables—but he didn’t get far.
He stopped, he turned, he came back.
He picked up a postcard from Theo’s pile one more time, and walked away.
I wasn’t entirely sure what I had just witnessed, but it was far more interesting than I had imagined lunch was going to be, and I’m not even talking about Enrique.
Theo.
Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t lusting after the little pistachio-nut bundt cake, not in the least. But I was impressed as hell. I think of myself as sort of ballsy, kinda out there, you know? But I was totally outclassed by Theo.
Think about it—he had started a food fight in the firm cafeteria, he had utterly slammed a soon-to-be-partner, and, on top of everything else—he totally got away with it. On his first day.
And it was only one thirty.
“Theo, I really hope this songwriting thing works out for you,” I said.
“Thanks.”
“Because you sure aren’t going to last long around here.”
Chapter 11
Hush Up!
Jeffrey
I’m not exactly sure what I expected, but it wasn’t this. I mean, I knew it wasn’t going to be the Met Gala, but I guess I hadn’t quite expected just how much of a dive Don’t Tell Mama was going to be. What the hell kind of name was that for a club, anyway?
There was a blackboard outside proclaiming “Tonight! Songwriters’ Showcase!” Below that was chalked the roster of entertainment for the rest of the week—a bunch of names I’d never heard of and you’ve never heard of either—but on Saturday, no less than Judy Garland and Liza Minnelli would be appearing live on stage together. As they apparently did each and every Saturday. Someone should tell the Times.
Anyway, you get an idea what kind of place this was.
And me in a Tom Ford suit.
Inside there was a dining room—a typical brownstone-basement restaurant you see in Manhattan, exposed brick, a bar along one wall. I said I was there for the songwriters showcase, and the bartender just nodded over to a curtained doorway. I pushed through the curtains.
“You with someone?”
It was this weirdly androgynous, weirdly tall waiter/waitress/maître d’/person in black stretch pants and ballet flats, and the question came out of nowhere, like an accusation. It took me a second.
“No.”
She/he glanced at my suit, arched an eyebrow—and then shrugged.
“Twelve dollar cover.”
I paid. She grabbed a menu.
“Follow me.” I followed her (and despite conflicting indicia, I’m sticking with that pronoun from here on). It was a long narrow room with a stage at the far end. A banquette dotted with little round tables ran along each side of the room, and down the middle there was another row of small tables and chairs. The hostess plopped me down on the side banquette about a third of the way back. Aside from me, there were only a few other banquette-tables occupied—but there was a large group that had the center tables from the stage nearly to the back—and there, toward the rear of the group, Theo seemed to be the center of attention. And, just to make things worse, Tommy was sitting next to him, yammering away. Figures, I thought. He waved and hopped right over to my table—Tommy, I mean, certainly not Theo—before I even sat down.
The hostess came over to us. She looked at Tommy, looked back at me.
“You work fast,” she said. “Must be the suit.”
“Cranberry juice and soda,” I said in response.
“There’s a two-drink minimum,” she explained. “Cranberry juice and soda isn’t one.”
“Charge me for the vodka, I don’t care.”
Theo had seen me, but seemed intent on ignoring me. Whatever.
“I’ll have his vodka,” volunteered Tommy. “And tonic,” he added smiling, and the waitress was gone. “So, Jeffrey Bornic.” Tommy put one elbow on the table, put his chin on it, and leaned forward like he was getting the dish from one of his girlfriends.
Were Tommy and I buds now???
“What are you doing here?” Tommy wanted to know.
“I just came to be nice.”
“My aunt Fanny.”
“Okay, don’t believe me, it’s none of your business anyway, and why do you even care?”
“Because honestly I always thought you were about the dullest person on earth. And yet—here you are, rich young whiz-kid lawyer-boy in a seedy gay cabaret, dressed to the nines at a table for one. Now that’s interesting.”
“Don’t get your hopes up. You’d be amazed how boring I can be.”
“And yet—here you are. And?”
And the Next Thing You Know... Page 7