When I came in, Rebecca and Theo had already pulled the couch out into a bed and were lounging thereon, leaning against the couch back and watching some sci-fi thing. Rebecca was in her ludicrous pink flannel nightgown. She had to have brought that thing from Iowa—there’s no way you could buy that in Manhattan.
“Hey roomies,” I said, all chipper. “Glad you guys are up and I don’t have to wake anybody. Or trip over anybody.” I said the last bit pointedly at Theo—who ignored me.
“Hey, Jeffrey,” said Rebecca, using the remote to pause the show. She even had fuzzy pink slippers to complete the ensemble.
“Sorry about this morning—both of you.”
“Is he still staying here?” asked Theo, with barely a glance in my direction. By contrast, Theo’s pale white feet sported nothing but some freckles.
“You know he is, we talked about it an hour ago. Get over yourself.” In acknowledgement, Theo picked up the remote and restarted the show. “I got you an order of eggplant parmigiana, if you’re hungry.”
“Thanks, I ate.”
Theo was in a dingy tee shirt and gray sweatpants. At least the sweatpants didn’t have holes in them—which was more than I could say for the tee shirt. I plopped my briefcase down on the counter, and held up the pair of big brown bags from Bloomingdales I’d carried in with me.
“Look, I went out shopping at lunch—” Rebecca took the remote control away from Theo, muted the alien explosion that was ripping through the spaceship, and put the remote on the side table carefully out of Theo’s reach. Theo stared sullenly at the silent TV. I tried again. “So that there will be no repeat of this morning, I went out at lunch and bought myself this.”
I pulled a bathrobe out of the first bag—but I have to tell you, this thing was no ordinary robe. Velour, and it had to be the absolute height to which velour could ever aspire. ‘Lush’ didn’t begin. The stuff was like three inches thick, I swear, imported from Turkey. Incredibly luxurious. There was a hood even. It was also maybe the world’s most expensive bathrobe, but who cares? It was dark blue, to set off my eyes. As soon as I saw it—and felt it—I had to have it.
“Oh. My. God!” said Rebecca with awe, as she felt the robe in her hand. “I want! You’ve got to feel this, Theo.” Theo had apparently decided he didn’t have to. He didn’t even turn his head.
Okay, this next part needs some explaining, but I can’t really explain it. I was shopping, I was thrilled about the robe, I turned around and looked at the rack—and I did feel really bad about yanking the blankets off and exposing Theo’s hoo-ha to the world, and the next thing you know—
“Here.” I handed over the second shopping bag. “I hope you like it, Theo. Because—I really am sorry, and I really didn’t mean for that to happen this morning and I shouldn’t have laughed.”
The bag only got as far as Rebecca because Theo wasn’t having any of it. Rebecca looked inside, and started to pull out the identical robe. Only it was much smaller of course, and green—a really pretty dark green, I thought.
“I’m sorry and I mean it.” Theo’s eyes had finally been pulled away to look at the robe. “I hope you don’t mind the color—it was all they had in your size.” N.b., I didn’t make a single crack about his size, and I so easily could have.
“Christ-on-a-crossword-puzzle,” said Theo slowly, finally feeling the deep velour. “For me?” He looked up at me. I nodded. “Give it to me. I gotta try this.” And he hopped off the bed and pulled on the robe. Then he took the robe off again, pulled the pit-stained tee shirt off over his head, and pulled the robe on again. Then he turned around and pulled off the sweatpants he was wearing, before he closed the robe and turned back around.
“Whoa—are you butt naked under there?” I asked, laughing.
“I just wanted to see what it felt like and put that picture right out of your head, you troll.”
Such gratitude.
“On behalf of all of Iowa,” said Rebecca, “I would like to apologize for my brother’s manners. This is not how he was brought up, I assure you.”
“Thank you, Jeff.”
“You’re welcome, and it’s Jeffrey.”
“The color couldn’t be better if you’d designed it for him,” said Rebecca.
I wasn’t sure what she meant, and I glanced over at Theo. And then, I suppose for the first time, I really looked at Theo. Because she was right. Had I thought about it, which I certainly hadn’t, I’d have told you Theo’s eyes were blue, but they were actually this strange blue-green and they really popped green with the dark green robe. With his pale skin and red hair…Rebecca was right.
Theo, of course, was already at the mirror on the bathroom door, to see if what she’d said was true. You vain little thing, you.
It occurred to me this was also the first time I’d ever seen Theo really smile.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“Okay,” said Rebecca. “Truce made. I’m going to trust you two to behave and go to bed without bloodshed. Theo, don’t stay up all night.”
“I know, I know.”
“Tomorrow’s his first day at the firm.”
“Congrats. Good luck with Victoria.”
“Yeah yeah whatever.”
“I think it’s all training tomorrow. Anyway, g’night.” She kissed her brother. “G’night,” and she kissed me.
I looked over at Theo.
“Don’t even think about it,” he said. Like I was thinking about! Dream on, little boy.
“Don’t start,” I said. I would be the grown-up.
While still in the robe, he turned away and started pulling his gray sweatpants back on—sweatpants that were way too big on him. Then, as he was cinching up the drawstring of these way too-big sweatpants around his tiny-tiny waist—wait, on the pocket, was that a Princeton logo? Rebecca hadn’t mentioned Theo went to—wait a sec.
“Are those—my—sweatpants?”
“Yessireebob.”
“You went through my stuff and pulled out a pair of my sweatpants for yourself?”
“Had to. I have to do something to protect myself, before I wake up screaming ‘rape’ in the middle of the night.”
“Think you’re that irresistible, do you? That I’ll lose all control, driven mad by your provocative sexuality?”
“It can happen.” In the robe and sweatpants, he padded into the bathroom looking very like the little prince he usually acted like.
“I’m sure you must experience that all the time,” I said, following him as far as the bathroom door, “with your irresistible charm.”
“Only just this morning you were ripping the bedding away so you could get at me.”
“You know that’s not—and I apologized!!! Lots!!!”
“Doesn’t change anything.” The toothbrush full of Crest went into his mouth.
“Yeah, you’re totally right. I just couldn’t keep my hands to myself, faced with the vision of masculine virility that you are.”
“Fuck off.” At least I’m pretty sure that’s what he said underneath the mouthful of foam.
“Let me tell you,” I explained, “you know who I think is hot? Mark Ruffalo is hot. Matt Damon? Jake Gyllenhaal? Mad hot. Shaun White? Hmm, not so much. But you’re welcome to the sweatpants.”
He spat.
“Just don’t get any ideas.” He rinsed, wiped his mouth and pushed past me. I guessed it was my turn for the bathroom.
Theo was settling into bed and he turned the light out—just as I was coming out of the bathroom. Into darkness. Nice, Theo.
I got into bed—in the dark—careful not to get anywhere near Theo’s precious little boy-buns. My eyes started to adjust. Street lights threw some light onto the ceiling, which I was staring at.
“I’m really sorry about this morning,” I said, finally. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
/> He didn’t respond, and I figured he was either asleep or pretending to be which was as good as. I rolled over—away from him, you can be sure. I don’t know how long the silence lasted. I’d started to drift off when something almost pulled me awake—but maybe I dreamt it.
“Thanks,” he said softly.
Yeah, I know. I must have dreamt it.
Chapter 10
Orientation, but Not that Kind—Okay, Yeah, that Kind Too
Tommy
I’d been at this effing job for two weeks at Parker O’Neill—with practically no training—working for this total bastard litigator. Which I was doing because no one else would. And because they offered me an outrageous amount of money to do it. I even had the brazil-nuts to say it wasn’t enough, and they, believe it or not, offered me more. I had to say ‘yes’ after that, didn’t I? And as long as the total bastard litigator was happy, no one seemed to mind. So. I was the most overpaid little office boy in the entire world.
Guinness people: Please note.
I had started working at a law firm a few years ago because my best friend in the entire world, Roger, was a baby lawyer and I couldn’t think of anything better to do, so I lied my way into a job at the firm where he worked, Goodkin Berdann & Dunkel. And then my best friend in the entire world reconnected with an old boyfriend and decided he couldn’t stand being a baby lawyer another minute. Love will apparently do that to a person.
Somewhere in that brief narrative Jeffrey Bornic came and went, but not significantly.
What mattered was that my best friend in the entire world abandoned me at Goodkin Berdann, just left me standing at the elevator bank, forsaken and bereft, weeping quietly and waving a lace hanky.
Or something like that.
And then I heard about this gig over here at Parker O’Neill, with the jumbo hazard-pay if you could handle this total bastard litigator, and I figured what the hells. How bad could he be? Pretty bad, it turns out, but if you don’t give a whoopy-ding-dong, and I so don’t, it’s all just water off a duck à l’orange. We work perfectly together, Mr. Kaminsky and I.
He yells, I yawn.
But this particular morning Mr. K. was forced to fend for himself while I sat, being oriented. Or orientated, but you have to be really stupid to say orientated.
Jocelyn, the head of secretarial services, was walking us newbies through the ins and outs of payroll, personnel and other such blather.
The ‘us’ in question consisted of me and another new guy-secretary, Theo, who just started today. Incredible red hair—which usually means it came out of a box, but I was pretty sure his was real—which was certainly not something I could say about Jocelyn’s highlights. I could only hope she did that herself—it would be a crime if she’d paid somebody for that.
Back to Theo. He was shorter than me even, and way pretty. He hadn’t said much, but I was good and sure he shopped in the same department I did, if you know what I mean.
“Before we finish up here,” said Jocelyn, “we should talk a little about your specific assignments. Tommy, you’ve been working for Mr. Kaminsky for a couple weeks already, and I’m sure he’s got you in knots.”
“Just a bit.”
“And he has this benefit coming up. How’s that going?”
“That’s pretty much all we’re doing these days.”
“That’ll change. If the case against Hiromi Industries takes off the way it’s expected to—watch out. He’ll be running the case—with an army of associates.”
“Oh goody.”
“But I have to say this, Tommy—in the two weeks you’ve been here, I haven’t heard a peep out of Mr. K., and I can’t remember the last time that happened. That guy—what a scooch-a-menz.” I swear that’s what she said. “Know what that means?” Two shaking heads. “Pain in the ass. If you can really keep him happy, you’re aces in my book.”
“I’ll try.”
“Theo,” she said turning to the red curls, “your primary responsibility is working for Victoria. She’s a senior partner, with a considerable practice, but on top of that, she’s in charge of the associates, handles their reviews, case assignments, even terminations. You will inevitably be privy to some extremely sensitive information and documents. It’s imperative you understand that we depend on your discretion. What goes on at your desk has to stay at your desk, capiche?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“The assignments for the Hiromi case I just mentioned are an example. I understand a lot of attorneys want on that case. People’s jobs and careers are involved.”
“Hey—I can keep a secret.”
“Glad to hear.”
There was a quick knock, the door to the training room opened and a gorgeous head popped in.
“Hey, you ready for me?” said the gorgeous head.
Oh yes, please.
“Enrique, c’mon in,” said Joss. “Theo, Tommy, this is Enrique, he’s from the IT Department, and he’ll train you on some software specific to the firm.”
I can’t let Enrique pass without comment. Beautiful curly black hair, matching dark eyes and a body—this was one computer geek who knocked in some serious hours in the gym. Arms, chest, thighs—all were built up and dressed in clothes carefully chosen to be exquisitely just a smidge too small. With an artfully maintained three-day stubble. Thankyoujesus.
This was going to be oh-so much more fun than Jocelyn.
“Okay,” she said, “I’ll leave you guys to get further orientated—” What did I tell you about orientated? “After Enrique, lunch. Tommy, you can show Theo where the cafeteria is?”
Theo and I moved to computer desks and Enrique—as much as I could listen to him while I was quietly obsessing over his collar bones and that little depression below the Adam’s apple, which seemed to hold a strange fascination for me—and Enrique told us all about saving docs and client numbers and litigation folders and metadata and lockboxes and so on and so forth. If poor Theo was overwhelmed—and he plainly was, biting his lower lip like a little orphan boy lost in the woods—he certainly got extra attention from Enrique to help him out. Enrique seemed pretty smitten with pretty Theo and was all too eager to lean over him to use Theo’s mouse, purely for demonstrative purposes, I’m sure.
“Oh, you flipped your mouse,” said Enrique.
“I’m left-handed, yeah.”
Enrique struggled bravely with Theo’s mouse, no doubt breathing lightly into Theo’s ear. The guy was smooth.
“I’m left-handed, too,” I offered. Me, the left-handed plate of chopped liver.
For his part, Theo, even with this guy’s beautiful arm around his shoulder, was oblivious to the attentions. Alas, poor Enrique was destined to disappointment from that quarter.
Of course, if he needed succor, I knew right where he could find it.
When the hour was up, Theo and I adjourned to the firm cafeteria for turkey tetrazzini.
“The food here’s not that bad, considering. The attorneys eat it, so they can’t let it get too crappy. Maybe avoid the fish.”
“Good to know.”
“So—what did you think of that guy from IT? Totally hot, which I didn’t expect.”
“Good-looking guy, for sure.”
“And gay.”
“Ya think?”
“Theo, he did everything but grope your butt.”
“If you say so.”
“He thinks you’re cute.”
“Yeah, well, no law against thinking.”
“Really? Not interested?”
“Not the tiniest, sorry.”
Takes all kinds, I guess.
I paused in my mixed vegetable medley and considered this alien creature across from me.
“So tell me, young Theo. You’re really from Iowa? That’s an actual place?”
“It is an actual place, full of
cornfields and cattle and hogs. And me.”
“And you came to New York seeking fame and fortune—as another Stephen Sondheim.”
“There will never be another Stephen Sondheim so don’t even joke, but yeah. Oh, here,” and he started rummaging in his backpack. He pulled out a small stack of advertising postcards. “A couple of my songs are going to be in this showcase.”
I read the postcard—a place called Don’t Tell Mama. I’m pretty sure I’d been there. Little gay-ish cabaret in the middle of Restaurant Row.
“Featuring the songs of,” I read out loud, “somebody, somebody, somebody else, Theo McPherson!” He bowed his head a little. “That is so cool! Can I come?”
“Of course you can come!”
“You must have been a very odd bird growing up among the overalls and pitchforks and Grant Woods, no?”
“I guess so. My sister tells this story—I don’t remember this at all—but apparently I came home from school one day, threw myself on the couch with the back of my hand to my forehead like some silent movie star, and announced, ‘I am never going back to that school again!’”
“Ha! And what happened?”
“I don’t remember it but I’m sure they just told me to change my clothes and do my chores. It was a farm, there were always chores. Hogs have to be fed, watered and cleaned up after—every day, summer, winter, Christmas. You probably stood out as a kid as well, I imagine. The butterfly of the nursery school.”
“I did! I was fantastic. Just ask Roger. Roger’s my best friend since literally the beginning of time. I, of course, thought I was completely normal, but Roger says that I was a bit outré even in kindergarten. Growing up, my dad used to give me these boy toys—footballs, baseballs, you know—crap I was never going to touch. He was always trying to butch me up. One year he gave me a baseball glove, and then he was soooo crabby when I bedazzled it.”
“I can’t imagine you playing baseball.”
“Well of course I couldn’t, but with that glove I looked amazing. Anyway, it accomplished what I wanted. I not only didn’t have to try out for Little League—whoopee!—I was forbidden to. And it pissed him off.”
And the Next Thing You Know . . . Page 6