by Ryan Field
Then Jim shook his head fast, as if trying to wake up from a bad dream. He leaned forward and said, “This summer you’re going to give up on this dumb fantasy and find out what it’s like to be with a real man. You’re not a kid anymore. One way or the other, like it or not, it’s time to move on and start living as an adult.”
Chapter Two
* * *
Although Jim had never denied being gay, he’d never formally come out of the closet either. As he dressed that night for the graduation party, he cringed at the thought of his mother introducing him to single young women…and all those comments about him finding the right girl to marry he’d be forced to suffer through. Even though he never talked about women, dated women, or expressed interest in women, his parents seemed to think he was straight. At least they never said anything aloud. He sometimes wondered if their silence came from wishful thinking or classic denial, because he’d never given them the slightest inclination one way or the other.
When he buttoned his white dress shirt and thought about going downstairs and Mrs. Anderson shoving her red-headed daughter up against him, he closed his eyes and shook his head. When he pulled up the zipper of his beige flat front chinos and thought about the Rickard girl who’d also just graduated from college, he almost caught the fly of his underwear. The Rickard girl was one of those aggressive types who wanted a husband and wasn’t willing to wait. If she was there, she’d flirt, bat her eyelashes, and speak in her sweetest, softest Texas accent until he would want to puke in the swimming pool.
Before he opened his bedroom door to venture down to the party, he put on his navy blazer and took a deep breath. Then he exhaled, lifted his head higher, and went down to the first floor where the guests had already arrived an hour earlier.
When he descended the grand semi-circular staircase, he clenched his fists and set his jaw. He continued downward at a slow pace, forcing a smile that felt so fake it hurt his jaw. One woman shouted, “There he is, the guest of honor.” While everyone else in the hallway turned to glance up at him, he smiled and continued down the steps. People patted his back and congratulated him. He thanked them without showing any emotion one way or the other. One older guy who worked at his father’s law firm grabbed his arm and said, “I couldn’t miss that peppy little car out there. Hot damn.”
Jim’s father, Radcliff Darling, stepped up behind the man and said, “It was a graduation gift.”
Jim refrained from rolling his eyes. Who used the word “peppy” anymore? He took a quick glance around. At least the people he’d feared would be there weren’t in sight. There were no younger people. This looked more like a party for adults…all of his mother and father’s friends.
The older guy patted Jim’s back and said, “I’ll bet that car’s going to be a chick magnet. You’ll have the girls chasing you down the street in that little baby.”
Jim smiled. His mother and father had given him a brand new silver BMW 650i convertible as a graduation gift. He’d been wondering how many hot young guys would be chasing him down the street.
Radcliff glanced at Jim and beamed with pride. His face illuminated and he smiled so wide Jim saw the fillings in his back teeth. “Jim’s a good kid and he’s worked hard in school. Helen and I wanted to do something special for him for graduation.”
Someone else patted Jim on the back and congratulated him. He started to feel light-headed and his heart began to race for no apparent reason. His first instinct was to get out of there as fast as he could, so he smiled and said, “I’m going out to check the car to make sure I closed the windows. I heard it might rain. I’ll be back.”
They were all drinking and laughing so much they hardly noticed him leave. It was one of those parties where most people congratulate the guest of honor to be polite and then continue having fun without really caring one way or the other about the guest of honor. As he crossed to the front door and opened it, he found another one of his father’s friends standing in the doorway.
“Well, there you are,” the man said. He wore a pale blue seersucker suit with a white shirt and pale yellow bowtie. He had three chins and his stomach rounded as if he’d stuffed his shirt with a throw pillow.
“Ah well, here I am,” Jim said in a deadpan voice. The man’s name was Bill Harper and he’d been a friend and client of Jim’s father for years. He was President of some bank in Dallas, but Jim couldn’t recall which one. He also had a single daughter, Bitsy, who was almost the same age as Jim. This could be trouble. Jim looked over his shoulder to see if Bitsy was behind him.
Bill Harper put his arm around Jim and dragged him back into the main hall, before Jim had a chance to resist. “I’m going to get a drink. You wait right here and we’ll catch up. Wait until I tell you about what good old Bitsy has been up to since you last saw her. You’ll love it. She’s a real go-getter, that girl of mine.”
As Bill Harper headed to a bar in the living room, Jim made his way back to the staircase. Bitsy Harper was a rotund young woman with frizzy hair and small eyes. They’d been in student government in high school and he’d always thought of her as one of those passive aggressive types who get what they want in subtle ways. She’d once said, “I’m not sure I’m going to run for President of student government. I don’t think I have what it takes. I’m way too shy for that. I’m a simple girl.” She ran; she won; she ruled the school with an iron fist. Bill had been trying to fix Jim up with her since they’d been in high school.
Jim figured if he could sneak back up to his bedroom no one would notice him missing. But someone else grabbed his shoulder and congratulated him. A man Jim didn’t even know passed by, patted the top of his head, and messed up his hair. A woman with big red hair grabbed his face and kissed him on the cheek. “We’re all proud of you. What are you going to do now?”
Jim shrugged and said, “I was going to check on something upstairs in my bedroom.” He wondered why she cared.
The woman laughed. “I’m talking about what you’re going to do with your life.”
He didn’t have a clue about what he was going to do with his life. He’d graduated with a degree in English. He’d been thinking about moving to New York and getting a job in advertising. A good friend had offered him a job in public relations in Los Angeles. But Jim knew his father wanted him to go to law school and he’d been keeping his plans quiet until he actually decided that’s what he wanted to do. “I’m still discussing it.” He almost choked on his own words; his heart started beating fast again and he wasn’t sure why.
A tall man with gray hair in a dark suit came up from behind and put his arm around him. He looked down, into Jim’s eyes, and gazed at him with the kind of adoration that most straight men did with women. “Jim,” he said. His tone remained soft.
“Mr. Kroll,” said Jim. He had a feeling he was being undressed by Mr. Kroll’s eyes.
“I want to talk to you for a minute,” Mr. Kroll said. “Come outside with me where it’s more private.” He kept his arm around Jim’s shoulders and guided him out back near the swimming pool. He smelled of cheap drugstore aftershave and red wine.
When they were outside, beside a thick group of shrubs not far from the pool, Kroll removed his arm from Jim’s shoulders and took a step back. He gazed at him once again, looked him up and down from crotch to lips, and said, “I want you to consider one thing.”
Jim shoved his hands into his pockets and sent him a blank glance. “What’s that?” He detected a slur; he suspected Mr. Kroll had been drinking for a while.
Mr. Kroll moved closer and rested his palm on the back of Jim’s neck. He smiled and said, “Social media.”
Jim gulped. Kroll began to massage the back of his neck in a way that rode the thin line between friendly and sexually suggestive. “What about it?” The only thing Jim knew about social media was that a lot of people often became addicted to it to the point where they posted every mundane aspect of their lives, from what they ate to when they went to bed at night. The few times he�
��d checked out social media, he been surprised at how dull it was and stunned that anyone in social media could make money based on just advertising alone. He doubted anyone would ever use social media if they had to pay for it on a monthly basis.
Mr. Kroll smiled wider. “Social media is the future, my man. Just promise me you’ll think about it.”
Jim nodded. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”
Mr. Kroll looked him up and down again and licked his bottom lip. “You promise, big guy?” he asked.
“Yes, Mr. Kroll. I promise.”
Then Kroll leaned forward, gave him a tight hug, and patted Jim’s rear end three times. Before he left, he winked at him and said, “Social media. I can make you a star.”
Though Jim wasn’t into flirting with his father’s friends, he had to admit the pat on his ass caused a stir between his legs. He hadn’t been held by a man that way before and it wasn’t the worst feeling in the world. Of course it would have been a lot nicer if a man his own age had hugged him and felt him up. In the same respect, he couldn’t help feeling more attractive after Kroll left him standing there alone. If the idiot hadn’t used a cheesy line like, “I can make you a star,” Jim might have taken a chance and flirted back.
As he turned in the opposite direction, a group of his mother’s friends near the pool spotted him and rushed over to talk to him. One tall, thin woman in spiked heels said, “There’s our boy. Come over here and let’s get a nice big hug. I want you to meet my daughter.”
Jim knew she had a single daughter. So he smiled, lifted his arm, and said, “I’ll be right back. I have to go somewhere.”
The women stopped short and gaped at him.
Without waiting for them to respond, he turned and headed back toward the house. When he entered the kitchen, more people grabbed him and congratulated him. He passed through the dining room and heard his mother talking about his yearbook. “Listen to this,” she said, with a sing-song voice she only used with company. “These are all the things Jim has been up to while he’s been away at school.” She started reading a list of his achievements, beginning with a school play he’d done his freshman year. He felt a lump in his stomach and a wave of nausea passed through his entire body. He didn’t think he’d done anything that great. He’d done what he was supposed to do and he’d spent the rest of his time shoving a big black dildo up his ass. He didn’t know how to respond to all this attention and he needed to be alone and take a few deep breaths.
His mother continued to read from his yearbook and he headed toward the main hallway. A short bald man stopped him at the entrance to the living room and congratulated him. While the man spoke, Jim glanced across the room and saw Cain Mayfield’s father, Len Mayfield, standing beside the fireplace. In that light, Cain and his father could have been mistaken for brothers. Jim wondered where Cain was that night. He’d been certain Cain would have at least showed up for a few minutes. Evidently, he’d been wrong.
Jim made eye contact with Cain’s father for a second and turned around fast. The walls started to close in and it became harder to breathe. He left the short bald man in mid-sentence and headed to the staircase. He climbed the steps two at a time and rushed to his bedroom. When he entered, he closed the door to drown out the noise from the party and sat down on the edge of his bed.
While he was gazing out the window at the group of women who were still standing near the swimming pool, one looked up, held out her hand, and the other turned to leave. It must have started to rain. He’d heard there might be a chance of rain that night. As he turned, his bedroom door opened wide and Len Mayfield leaned into the doorframe and said, “I thought this was the little boys’ room.”
Jim sat up straight and said, “Ah well, no, Mr. Mayfield. It’s down the hall to the left.” Len wore a dark suit jacket that night with light stucco slacks. Though he was old enough to have a son graduating from college, he still had thick brown hair, a tight lean body, and a deep tan. According to local legend, Len had worked his way through college as a male model. He’d even posed for Playgirl magazine in his senior year. After college he’d put all that aside to build a career as an investment banker. Jim had overheard his mother and father talking about how often Len Mayfield worked out at the gym and how careful he was about his diet. They spoke about Len with snide tones, as if they were jealous he looked so good and they didn’t. People often mistook Cain Mayfield and Len Mayfield for brothers instead of father and son.
Instead of turning to leave, Len walked into the bedroom and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his breast pocket. “How are things, man?” he asked. He lit the cigarette and sat down on Jim’s bed.
Jim’s mother had a no smoking rule in the house and he knew she wouldn’t be thrilled about Len lighting up in his bedroom. “The bathroom’s not hard to find. It’s just at the end of the hallway.” He didn’t want his mother to think he smoked inside the house.
Len inhaled deeply and ignored him. He glanced around the bedroom and blew a stream of smoke through his nose. Jim had left one of his jock straps on the end of his bed. When Len noticed it, he picked it up and smiled.
“Smoking’s not good for you, Mr. Mayfield.” He’d never seen Len smoke before. He wondered why Len seemed interested his dirty jock strap.
Len puffed harder and set the jock down on the bed where he’d found it. “I’m a grown man, Jim. Besides, I only smoke socially. I’m not addicted. A pack can last me six months. I might not smoke again after this for six more months…maybe never again.”
Jim’s heart pumped faster. He wanted to be alone. “I really have to take care of something,” he said. “I hate to be rude but…”
“I need an ashtray,” Len said. He inhaled again and laughed. “I guess this is a non-smoking area. Your mother would probably kill me if she saw me doing this in here. She’d accuse me of corrupting her handsome young son with that vile, hideous, legal substance, tobacco.”
There wasn’t an ashtray in the entire house, so Jim bent down and picked up a trash can beside his desk. He set it on the bed and shoved his hands into his pockets. Then he glanced up at the ceiling and wondered how long Len Mayfield would sit there. He couldn’t be rude to his best friend’s dad; Jim had been raised to be polite to his elders.
After a moment of silence, Len blew smoke through his nose again and said, “Is it your love life, man? Is that the problem?”
Jim flung him a stare. “Huh?”
“Are you upset about your love life?” Len asked. “Something is clearly wrong. I’ve been watching you since you came downstairs. Is it a girl?”
Jim felt his chest cave in. Len had seen through his façade. He couldn’t tell Len the truth. He couldn’t say he was confused about what to do with the rest of his life, he couldn’t admit he was gay, and he definitely couldn’t tell Len he wanted to suck his son’s cock more than anything else in the world. “It’s just a lot of things, Mr. Mayfield. I’ve got a lot on my mind right now, is all.” He tried to smile; he tried harder to keep his voice even.
Len smiled. “So it’s nothing serious. You seem so confused.”
Jim looked up at the ceiling. “No. It’s nothing serious, Mr. Mayfield. Thank you for asking.” He couldn’t tell Cain Mayfield’s dad he was so frustrated about being in the closet he wanted to sit on his bedpost and scream, “Fuck me.”
Len stood up and tossed the burning cigarette into the trash can without giving it a second thought. He gazed up and down at Jim and said, “Well, congratulations,” and then he left Jim standing in the bedroom alone.
When Jim thought he was alone, he reached into the trash can to put out the cigarette so the house wouldn’t burn down. While he did this, Len walked back into the bedroom and said, “I need a ride home. Do you mind?”
“A ride?”
“Yes. My wife left early and took the car. I suspect she’s going to visit her tennis instructor. She’s been spending a lot of time with him, if you know what I mean.”
Jim swallowed hard. �
��No, Mr. Mayfield. I don’t know what you mean.”
Len frowned. “That’s not the point, Jim. I need a ride home. Will you take me in your new car? Or are you going to make an older man walk along dark empty roads all alone?”
The last thing Jim wanted to do was get trapped inside a car with Cain Mayfield’s dad. If Len Mayfield knew the filthy, dirty thoughts Jim often had about his son, he’d probably throw him out the bedroom window. So Jim picked up the keys to the new BMW and handed them to Len. “You can take the car,” he said. “We’ll pick it up tomorrow.”
Len glanced down at the keys in his palm. “Your father told me it’s a manual transmission. I don’t know how to drive a manual. I never learned. You’re going to have to drive me yourself.”
“Ah well, Mr. Mayfield.”
“If you’d rather I walk, I guess I could take my chances. But it did start to drizzle a minute ago.”
He couldn’t let the poor man walk home alone, especially not on a dark wet road. Besides, it would have been disrespectful to refuse. He took a quick breath and said, “Okay. I’ll take you home, Mr. Mayfield.”
Len looked him up and down again and said, “I’ll wait for you downstairs by the car.” Before he turned to leave, he tossed the keys over Jim’s shoulder and they landed on the jock strap at the end of Jim’s bed. “Don’t be long, Jim. I don’t like to wait.”
Chapter Three
* * *
When Jim went down to the driveway, it had stopped raining and Len asked him to put the top down. Jim put on his seatbelt but Len made no attempt to put on his. When they pulled out onto the main road, Len lit up another cigarette without asking for permission and kept his head straight. He focused on the road as if he were driving and didn’t say a word.
By the time they turned down the long dark road that led to Len’s large ranch a few miles away, Jim felt relieved that he would soon be alone again. He parked in front of the house and put the car in neutral. He waited for Len to get out, without switching off the motor. Len’s house was even newer than Jim ’s father’s…a huge red brick Georgian Mac Mansion with black shutters, a white portico, and bright white molding at the top of each window.