by Rachel Kane
But the clothes didn’t make me happy. I felt like there was a knot in my stomach, a ball of stress thanks to the person standing nearby.
I watched him walk into the bathroom, then sighed. I couldn’t spend a week like this, dancing around the topic of our old fight. WIth anyone else I might have broached the subject directly and tried to work things out. But with Marcus? It was like being pecked to death each time he raised a skeptical eyebrow. Complaining about my clothes, complaining about my swimsuit. He was like a flock of pigeons, and I was a fucking saltine on the ground.
4
Marcus: Smile and Look Pretty
I figured rich guys like Sergio could buy their way out of anything. But he looked pretty dejected, pulling his clothes back out of the bags, smoothing them down, putting some on the wooden hangers and slipping them into the closet. He almost looked sad enough for me to feel sorry for him. But that didn’t last long.
“Nat and Owen want us down at their table for dinner,” I said.
He paused in the middle of putting a shirt in the closet. “Are you wearing that?”
I looked down. I’d changed out of my suit, into some shorts and a t-shirt. “Yeah?”
“Your friends invite you to dinner, and you show up like you’re grabbing a corn dog at the county fair?”
Damn it, every single word he said got under my skin. But I wasn’t going to take the bait this time. “I’m on vacation, dude. I’m wearing beach-casual.”
“It’s disrespectful,” he said. “What you wear to these functions makes a statement.”
“Uh, no, the only statement I’m making is that I’m covering my nads because of society.”
“And you’re hardly doing that, as tight as those shorts are.”
“Again, you’re staring at my crotch?”
Sergio sighed, and started shoving clothes around on the rack. The hangers went click-click-click. “Don’t start. And don’t think you’re going out like that. I’m sure something I got today will fit you.”
“Gosh, thanks, Dad. But I’m old enough to pick out my own clothes.”
“Just trust me. Try this on.” He tossed a shirt back onto the bed, seersucker with a pale blue stripe.
“You heard the part about this being a tropical island, right? I’m not wearing long sleeves out there.”
“The fabric breathes. And you can leave the collar open. I don’t think a tie is necessary tonight.”
“It’s not necessary, you say?” But he didn’t say anything snarky in response, just went back to sorting his new clothes.
I pulled on the shirt. It was strangely light and thin, the fabric cool against my shoulders. He glanced at me, and shook his head.
“You have to stop slouching,” he said, coming over to me and repositioning it over my shoulders. “The collar shouldn’t gape at the back, it makes the front of the shirt look like it’s riding up on you.” He tugged a little at the sleeves. “You spend too much time working on your arms at the gym, too. If you focused less on bulking up, you’d have an easier time fitting into things.”
It felt pretty strange to be dressed by a man who hated me as much as Sergio did. And yet his little digs just now didn’t sound like the biting criticism I usually heard from him. There was something else in his voice, just the running commentary of someone who knew what he was talking about. It made me feel worse than the sniping did, actually. Nobody wants to feel like they don’t know how to dress themselves. But since he wasn’t trying to insult me, I didn’t say anything.
Finally he stepped back and took a look. “Okay, now pants.”
“I have pants.”
“You’re not wearing Daisy Dukes with a shirt like that.”
“I mean, I’m not putting on your pants. That just crosses some kind of line.”
He was holding a pair out to me. “I’m not asking you to put on my boxers or something.”
I didn’t have enough fight left in me. I took the pants. Without really thinking, I unbuttoned my shorts and let them drop to the floor.
“Oh, come on,” said Sergio, at the same minute I remembered that I was going commando tonight.
I looked down. My cock, freed from the tight shorts, was now peeking out from under my seersucker shirt-tails. I could feel myself start to blush, but I fought back the embarrassment; if he was going to be such a snob that he had to tell me how to dress, he could deal with the consequences.
“Maybe I should have offered you my boxers,” said Sergio. “You’re not putting these pants on without some protection from that thing.”
“Don’t act like you’ve never seen a cock before,” I said, opening the drawer I was keeping my clothes in. I was aware that as I bent over to get my briefs out of the drawer, my ass was in full view. I guess he’s getting quite a show, I thought, before pulling on a crimson pair of briefs.
“If you’re all done showing off your various body parts--”
“Give me those,” I said, snatching the pants from him and pulling them on. I had expected them to be too snug on the leg, but they fit really nicely.
I glanced at myself in the mirror. Quickly I ran my fingers through my hair to calm it down. I didn’t look half-bad. Sergio’s clothes fit me really well, bringing out my arms. I did a turn. Even my ass was looking good.
“You have to admit, good clothes make a difference,” he said.
“By good you just mean stuff I could never afford.”
“No, I mean paying attention to the social context and wearing clothes that are appropriate to it.”
“Dude, I’ve worked at some of the best restaurants in town. I know how to dress appropriately.”
“There’s a difference between dressing to serve food, and dressing to be served.”
I felt like he might just go on all night about this if I let him, so I cut him off and said I had to go take care of my hair.
As soon as the bathroom door closed behind me, I gripped the sink, and stared at myself in the mirror. I was on unfamiliar territory, and I didn’t know how to feel about it. Clearly, Sergio and I couldn’t just snipe at each other all week, but I could feel myself bristling at the thought of him trying to be some kind of daddy figure to me, bossing me around any time he thought I was being immature. Contrary to what he thought he knew about me, I’d never been after a sugar daddy (well, once, and it ended badly), and sure as hell didn’t want to date someone who felt superior to me.
When I came out, Sergio was already dressed. Unlike me, he wasn’t transformed; he looked perfectly natural in the soft linen suit, a light gray the color of shadows on beach sand. He exuded money and style, and even with my new clothes (his new clothes, I corrected myself), I felt shabby and poor compared to him.
From the look he gave me, I thought he knew it, too. He was so perfect it made my teeth hurt to look at him.
5
Sergio: My Dinner with Marcus
For the first time today, I really relaxed. Finally, among friends, I felt like I could let my guard down. Nat and Owen were at the head of the long table, presiding over the many conversations. Everyone was excited to see us, and it felt so good to shake hands and say hello and see people who mattered to me. The table was covered in extravagant flowers, bowls of fruit, and pitchers of sangria.
“Where are your folks?” I asked them.
Nat gave an exaggerated shiver. “Tomorrow,” he said. “They made a very big deal about us not paying for them to stay an entire week.”
It was a relief to see Marcus go sit near Cal and Edgar. I thought I’d handled the clothes situation as well as I could, and we managed not to have any fights, but I could feel the tension boiling beneath the surface. I knew we were going to have it out in that room, eventually.
Another thing that struck me as strange was Marcus’ response to getting some nice clothes. You’d think he’d be used to it, if he was always going after men with money. Instead he had been stiff and even seemed a little nervous. Maybe he was just mad that I’d seen him half-naked,
but that was hardly my fault.
The less I thought about seeing him half-naked, the better. I didn’t need that sight stuck in my head. It wasn’t really fair that a guy like him should be so well-endowed, with such a tight, muscular ass.
There were place cards, and I found myself seated next to Hunter, who I knew mostly from the parties Harris and I used to throw. About a decade older than me, he did something in real estate back in Oceanside. Here, he was slicing up a mango.
“Devilish things,” he said to me as I sat down. “All they want to do is slip out from beneath the knife.”
He was cutting it wrong, trying to slice through the middle and working his knife around the pit, rather than cutting off the meaty cheeks and dealing with those first, but I found I was a little too tired to offer a lecture on it. I poured myself a glass of the sangria, more full than I would usually have.
“Settling in okay?” he asked.
I glanced over at Marcus. He was leaning back in his chair, laughing at something Cal had said. From his easy posture and open face, I could tell he was so much more relaxed without me being nearby. I turned to Hunter. “It has been an adventure.”’
“I’ll say. Shocking what they charge for these rooms. Did Owen tell you? Not even suites, and they’re paying through the nose. I’ve got to build a resort. It’s my new mission in life. Did you see the towels? So cheap, but do you think anyone ever notices? Of course not. Greatest investment ever, build a hotel in a pretty place, then skimp on everything else. Guests are too busy being dazzled by the sun to realize.”
I remembered that this was what conversations with Hunter were always like; anything you said could be turned into a discussion about real estate. It wasn’t always bad. One of our conversations had gotten me a commission for a large sculpture in an office building he was buying.
I took a long swallow of the wine. A tension I was quickly becoming familiar with was settling on my shoulders. I heard Marcus laugh again, and peered down the table. I had the oddest sense he wanted me to hear him. That maybe he was laughing on purpose, to make sure I knew he was having more fun than I was.
Hunter was oblivious to my looks down the table. He’d set aside the mango and was now flicking the stems of strawberries off with the point of his knife. “Not sure I approve of the housing assignments,” he told me. “I know the boys aren’t made of money, but do you know who they put me with?”
“Who?”
“A young man named Josh. Twenty years younger than me Can you imagine? He’s going to make a pass at me tonight, I know. I’m relieved we’re not sitting together.”
Josh was down near Cal and Marcus. Marcus caught my eye and raised his bottle of beer to me, then leaned over and whispered something to Cal. They both laughed.
“I don’t think Josh is so bad,” I said, although I couldn’t remember much about him, except that he volunteered at the animal shelter. We’d had a fundraiser for it, Harris and I, back when we were together. I shivered. I needed to cleanse my mind of that relationship.
“Oh, I’m not saying I won’t take him up on it,” said Hunter. “Just that it’s so obvious. How about you, who’d you get stuck with?”
“Marcus, sitting next to Cal.”
Hunter squinted as though he had bad eyesight. “Oh, him. The waiter from back in town?”
I sipped my wine. “That’s right.”
“You’d better be careful with that one.”
Suddenly my interest was piqued. “Why’s that?”
“I’m sure you’ve heard the same stories I have.”
“I’m sure I haven’t.”
I admit I felt a little guilty at the excitement over hearing some gossip about Marcus. It wasn’t like I was searching for some weapon to use against him; I wasn’t going to say anything. This was just the sheer petty joy of hearing something bad about someone who annoyed you. I found myself leaning towards Hunter.
“You know a few years ago he was dating Xavier Wallace,” he told me.
“I don’t know who that is,” I said.
“No? It may be before you came to Oceanside. There was a scandal. Xavier was in hedge funds, and had picked up a few buildings downtown to turn into apartments. I helped him close some of the deals, terribly complicated things, you know some of those buildings have been held by the same families since the fifties, and--”
“The scandal, Hunter.”
“Oh yes. Xavier liked to surround himself with muscular young men. He began arriving at parties with Marcus. Showering him with presents. Nice clothes, watches. You know, the worst kind of May-December thing. We were all talking about it. Marcus began to think he was worth all the gifts. You know how these things go. He’d forgotten his place. He began having opinions, intruding into our conversations. We all hinted to Xavier that it was time to find someone a little less vocal. Sure enough, he was tiring of Marcus. The boy was giving himself airs, beginning to believe he belonged at our parties and openings. So Xavier sent him on his way. Well, there was a storm after that, I can tell you. Xavier said his house was broken into, precious artwork destroyed, valuables stolen.”
“Marcus did that?”
“We all knew he did, but of course there was no proof. And Xavier was too heartbroken at finding his belongings ruined, to do anything about it. He left us to move to New England. The police were never properly warned about Marcus. To this day, there is a contingent of us who cannot bear to see him, and will not dine at restaurants where he works. He’s a dangerous young man, Sergio. I hope you’ve locked up your valuables.”
I looked askance at Hunter, as though he might be joking. It was all so sordid! And yet, wasn’t it exactly in line with what Harris had told me?
Without meaning to, I looked back down the table. Marcus and Cal had their heads together, talking quietly.
It made me so uncomfortable. I was willing to overlook a certain amount of gold-digging, but the threat of violence? I shook my head. “I can’t believe that,” I said to Hunter.
He smiled thinly at me, and began peeling a peach. “Ignore Xavier’s lesson at your peril, Sergio.”
I wasn’t very good company that night. After dinner, we moved to the patio, where a fire burned bright in a pit. We were sitting in a circle of torches. The sangria had been too sweet, and I was having a Negroni for balance. This was actually my second, and I was beginning to regret having eaten so little.
“Don’t you hate it?” said a voice behind me. I turned, and saw Rhody approaching, holding a bottle of wine. She slid down onto the seat next to me.
“Hate what?” I said. My gaze naturally flicked back over to Marcus, who was now in a circle of his friends. Nat and Owen were with him, along with two younger guys.
“The whole idea of marriage.”
I wasn’t sure if it was the three glasses of wine followed by two cocktails, but I wasn’t following her train of thought. Part of my mind was still busily turning over the story Hunter had told me. “What’s wrong with marriage?” I said.
“Nothing, if you’re the one getting married. But if you’re not, then you’re just a slave, man.”
I laughed and shook my head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Rhody.”
“I met this girl, right? I think she’s a model. Staying at the resort. She was going to be on a boat tonight, she and some friends. Out there, on the ocean, hanging out. Was I allowed to go?”
“No?”
“Exactly. Nat said I had to stay for dinner. I was all Who do you think you are, and he started in on the But Rhody it’s my wedding and it’s special, just laying on the guilt. So here I am, eating dinner with a bunch of guys while the woman of my dreams lounges off the starboard bow.”
“I don’t know, seems like a good deal to me,” I said. “Nice place to stay, plenty of liquor, and all we have to do is wear the right clothes on their wedding day.”
“You don’t mean that,” she said, peering at me. She was a little unsteady, and I noticed her bottle was nearly emp
ty.
“I don’t mean what?”
“Your lips say good deal, but your eyes are like a trapped animal. You’re going to gnaw your own leg off to escape this cage.”
“What? No, this is great. This is just...great, and good, and a wonderful time. Magical.” I finished my drink and looked around for a waiter.
“You’re like a mink...no, no, an ermine. They’ve got you in their trap, and you can’t get out. Soon you’ll have to go to rehearsals, and then put on a tux, and-- Wait, is an ermine a kind of mink?”
A waiter happened by and took my glass. “Can I get you another, sir?”
“No thanks...and Rhody, I think you’ve had enough too.”
“Freaking ferrets,” she muttered, as I took her bottle away. Then she curled up on the seat and asked, “Which one are you mooning over?”
“Which what am I what?”
“You keep gazing longingly over at that crowd of boys.”
I shook my head. “I am certainly not gazing longingly.”
“You’re pining.”
“I’m not pining!”
“It’s not Cal, is it? Did he and Edgar break up already again? You have to stay away from Cal, Sergio. He’s radioactive.”
I lay my head back and looked up at the stars in the clear black sky. “Rhody, I am not pining for Cal. Don’t worry.”
“Let’s see, who else...it’s probably not Josh, I see Hunter hanging all over him. Obviously not Edgar.”
“I really don’t see--”
“Is it Marcus?” she asked.
“--the point in you asking--”
“It is!” she exclaimed. She pointed at him. “You’re staring at Marcus. Oh, your ancient enemy, I see how it is. I’ll admit, he does look good when he’s cleaned up.”
“I am really, honestly not staring at Marcus,” I said. “Look, see? I’m staring up at the sky.”
“You like him.”
“I most certainly do not.”
“You love him.”
“You probably should’ve gone on your boat ride with your model friend, instead of hanging out here and drinking yourself into hallucinations.”