And the Next Thing You Know . . .

by Chase Taylor Hackett

  “Thanks for the movie,” I said. “That was really fun!”

  “You had, of course, seen it before.”

  “Only twice. But it was great anyway. Did you have fun? Can you have fun?”

  “Of course I can have fun. What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Just that you’re a teensy bit pompous.”

  “Something you’ve mentioned once or twice.”

  “I thought that might get in the way.”

  “I can have fun just fine, and I did have fun, thank you for asking.”

  “Okay then,” I said. “I’m glad.”

  “I have lots of fun,” he said defensively. “E.g., sports. I like sports.”

  “Of course. Big professional sports fan.”

  “Yeah! Why not?”

  “Football?”

  “What have you got against football?”

  “You’re right! Professional football—what’s not to love? Let’s see, you have a bunch of wife-beating, dog-baiting, homophobic rapists who get paid gazillions to play a game.”

  “You’re amazing.”

  “But by all means—buy another sweatshirt with an NFL logo on it and give those nice boys a little more of your money.”

  “Well the good news is, I won’t be around to irritate you with my sports. I got a call from my contractor today. They say they’ll be ready for me to move back into my apartment tomorrow. You’ll have the couch all to yourself again.”

  “Oh.” You’d think I’d be thrilled, but I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about this. “Too bad, just when we’re starting to get along.” He stopped and looked down at me for a second. “Why are we getting along?” I asked.

  “No idea.”

  “Me either.” We kept walking. “It won’t last.”

  “Oh for sure not.” We walked.

  “It’s just like you, you know,” I said after a bit.

  “What?”

  “Now that we’re finally not trying to kill each other, now is when you move out. I swear, if there’s a contrary thing to do, you’ll find it.” He smiled at me, shook his head in what looked like disbelief, and he started walking again. “Wait a second,” I yelled after him. “Are you laughing at me?” And I caught up to him.

  “Dude, you laugh at me all day long.”

  “I don’t either. And don’t you dare dude me!”

  “Just did,” he said laughing.

  As we turned onto Rebecca’s street, there was a creepy skinny guy with a really big pit bull on a heavy chain leash.

  “Hey beautiful,” I said to the dog—certainly not to the ugly guy with a little scraggly beard and bad teeth—and I held out my hand to the dog to sniff. I love dogs, btw. The dog’s ears went back and her tail started to wag, obviously happy to have found a friend. And that’s when the jerk snatched the dog back hard—and the poor dog had this big prong collar on her.

  “Stay t’fuck away from my dog,” said the guy.

  And I hated this guy, just like that. Somebody who keeps a big heavy chain on a dog with a prong collar and then yanks the dog around, just to make his puny little balls feel bigger. How loathsome was that.

  “You know, if you trained her a little,” I explained calmly, “she wouldn’t need that awful collar. And no dog needs that chain for a leash.”

  “Bitch is strong.”

  “Stronger than you, for sure, but not stronger than a leather leash.”

  “Theo, c’mon,” said Jeff.

  “Whadda you know?” said the creep.

  “I know what people say about little skinny guys who have these big macho dogs—the whole compensating thing. They usually say it’s because of your tiny dick, but in your case—”

  “The fuck dju just say?”

  “—in your case, there are so many possible causes for your sense of inferiority—there’s your looks, you were lousy in school, you’re crap at sports, can’t keep a girlfriend—really, so much to choose from.”

  “Theo, let’s go now!” said Jeff and he had a hand on my arm.

  “The fuck up—”

  “Honestly, if you don’t feel inferior, you just haven’t been paying attention.”

  “Ya got a big fuckin’ mout’, ya little faggot.” He turned to go.

  “You’re right. I’m queer. You can kiss me if you want,” I said, giving him a little air-kiss and smiling prettily. “Right here.” With my index finger I tapped my butt cheek.

  “Fuck this.” He reached up, looped the leash over the iron fence in front of the brownstone where we were, and he spit on the sidewalk.

  “Charming,” I said.

  “Theo—”

  “Did your mom teach you how to spit like that, all ladylike?”

  And suddenly there was an incredibly strong arm around my waist, and Jeff had hoisted me up onto his shoulder like a grain sack while he backed quickly away, crossing to the other side of the street.

  “There is no need for any trouble,” Jeff was saying. “I apologize for my not very smart friend. I’m taking him home, this doesn’t have to get any uglier. We are so sorry!”

  I think I’ve mentioned that I have a bit of a temper. And I’ve admitted that I had been annoyed with the guy because I hated bullies, and I especially hated a jerk who bullied his dog. And he’d called me a faggot, which I always found a little, shall we say, off-putting.

  But now. Ohmygod now!

  Now I was slung over asshole Jeff’s asshole shoulder, and I couldn’t have cared less about the guy with the pit bull. Now I was in a blind, out-of-my-mind berserker-crazy, frothing-at-the-mouth rage at the monumental shithead who thought he could carry me around like so much dirty laundry. I kicked and screamed no end but I couldn’t really land anything from up there.

  I’d have bitten him, if I’d thought of it.

  I don’t know what all I was howling, most of it probably incoherent and lost amid my thrashing and kicking, not to mention the pounding blood-rush in my ears. All I wanted was to hurt Jeff. I was vaguely aware of a fair torrent of obscenities from the pit bull guy regarding our presumed sexual practices, which tapered off. I didn’t taper, not the least bit. I was still raging like a wild animal. And the whole time Jeff kept telling me to shut up, and he kept pinching my thigh really hard when I didn’t, and I couldn’t make him stop pinching me, and I felt so helpless and humiliated, so the pinching was just one more thing to add to my already insane level of complete apoplectic crazy.

  I was still trying to hurt him when he finally plopped me back on my feet a block or so away. He pushed me up against the brick wall behind me, but I was still raving, while Jeff was yelling at me, and he shook me hard but I still didn’t stop.

  “Theo! Theo! Shut! Up!” he yelled, out of breath, but I didn’t shut up. “Theo!” He slammed me against the building behind me. “Will you stop!” I was stunned into silence.

  Okay, he may have knocked the wind out of me for a second, but I was nowhere near done with him.

  “Don’t you ever—” I screamed, “don’t ever do that again!”

  “Ditto!” he screamed back, as red-faced as I must have been.

  “I mean it!”

  “So do I! Don’t do what? Save your fucking neck? I promise!”

  He turned around and started walking to the door—only now did I realize we were in front of Rebecca’s building—but there was no way I was going to let him just dismiss me and walk away like that. That just pissed me off all over again. I wanted to punch his big smug face. I didn’t care that he was twice my size, I didn’t care if he kicked the tar out of me, I was totally ready, all I wanted to do was hit.

  I grabbed his arm with both hands and threw my weight against it as hard I could to yank him back around to me.

  “I’m serious!” I shrieked. “Don’t ever—ever—pick me up like that—like I
’m nothing! I’m not nothing!” No idea where that came from, but I was so furious, tears were pouring out and I couldn’t wipe my eyes fast enough. I was so mad that I was crying and that just made me even crazier.

  Jeff stood there, watching me be this hysterical thing, and he looked at me for a couple seconds, like he didn’t know what to do with me.

  “Theo—” he said finally. “Theo, that guy—did you look at him? One of those phone-things in his ear so he never misses a call? Pit bull on a chain? His tee shirt said ‘fuck the five-oh.’ He’s a drug dealer! Did you even notice when he reached to hang the leash up—that he had a gun tucked in the back of his jeans? He was nobody to mess with!”

  I stood there for a second. Did the guy really have a gun?

  “You stupid little…” he said, and he turned and pushed his way through the door into Rebecca’s building.

  Fine. Walk away, you fucking fuckstick-fuck.

  I was left on the sidewalk, my heart still pounding in my chest. It took a while before I could breathe without these little hitches. After a bit, I took a couple deep breaths, I pulled my striped tee shirt up to wipe my face one last time. I pushed the door open and went in the terrazzo lobby.

  I was surprised to see that Jeff was waiting, leaning against the wall next to the elevator. When he saw me, he turned and hit the button and the door slid open. He stepped in, pressed the button for our floor. I stood in front of the elevator. As the door began to close, Jeff reached out and stopped it.

  “Just get in the elevator, Theo.”

  I did.

  We rode up to the fifth floor without another word.

  We still weren’t speaking when we pulled out the sofa bed together. We managed to get in and out of the bathroom, one of us always stepping back to let the other past. With the couch pulled out, there was only enough room around the foot of the bed for one person to get through. Inevitably we met there. I stepped back so that Jeff could get through, and then stepped even farther back so he wouldn’t get close to me, and all without ever looking at each other. And of course when I came out of the bathroom in an undershirt and sweatpants and I needed to get back around the bed to my side, there he was trying to get across, so then he stepped back while I walked around, and I just wanted to stomp on his huge bare foot as I passed him. When I was ready, I got into bed, but I left the lamp on for Jeff, who was still setting out his running clothes for the morning. He finally got into his side of the bed.

  “Ready?” I asked.

  “Sure,” he said.

  I switched off the lamp, and tried to settle in, facing away from him as always. I was still so upset, there was no way I was going to sleep. I was tempted to do one of those mule kicks like I’d given him that first night. It would be better if we fought it out, I thought. Better than this, lying here, hating each other.

  After a long time of grinding my teeth and not sleeping, I sat up and tried punching my pillow into shape. I dropped back down onto the bed.

  “I didn’t pick you up like that because I think you’re nothing,” he said. “I didn’t do it to make you feel small.” He was facing the window, not me. “I did it because I was scared to death something really bad was going to happen to you. Okay?”

  Really?

  I had to think about that. But still, I hated being picked up like that. I hated that he’d pushed me up against the wall. But somehow I was already about a jillionth as angry as I’d been.

  I lay there in the dark for a while, with my fury melting away, feeling my jaw muscles relax, before he spoke again.

  “And I really can’t afford to become a witness to a violent crime,” he explained. “Could have a seriously negative impact on my billable hours.”

  Impact, when he meant effect. That’s the kind of guy he was.

  Still, I knew he was trying to make a joke. He was trying. He didn’t want me to be in bed so angry that I couldn’t sleep. He didn’t want me to feel hurt. But he knew neither of us could apologize—even though he obviously should.

  Maybe I even smiled at his little lawyer joke about billable hours, but I also knew he couldn’t see the smile, which was fine with me.

  “Good night, Theo,” he said.

  I didn’t say anything. I mean for a loooooooooong time I didn’t say anything, I lay there looking at the darkness. It wasn’t until I was certain he was asleep, when he started to snore a little—yeah, he snored but I had somehow gotten used to it—that I whispered.

  “G’night, Jeff.”

  Chapter 21

  The Last Morning

  Jeffrey

  I nearly always wake up without an alarm, and so it was on this particular morning. Without opening my eyes, I knew it was time to get up if I was going to run this morning. I felt that bar in the sofa bed against my ribs and I remembered where I was—and I realized that, for the first time since I’d been staying at Rebecca’s, I wasn’t absolutely freezing when I woke up. It was actually deliciously warm and comfortable. I started to stretch a little, enjoying it, but as soon as I moved, I knew why it was so nice and cozy. I cracked my eyes. I could see just enough in the darkness to take in the situation.

  Theo’s head was on my chest. His shoulder was nestled in my armpit, my right arm was around him, his was around me, his right leg thrown over mine. This should have been really weird and awkward, but it wasn’t somehow. It felt—I don’t know—safe. And so warm.

  But I also knew it was crazy wrong.

  It certainly wasn’t good.

  I had better get up.

  If Theo woke up, it would be really embarrassing for everybody. Thank God we wore all these clothes to bed.

  The problem was—I didn’t want to get up. I didn’t want to go running. I wanted to stay in bed and be all sleepy and warm, I wanted to drift back to sleep like this.

  Even if it was with Theo. Theo. He was almost sweet. When he was asleep.

  I closed my eyes and tried to enjoy the warmth and maybe drift off—but no matter how comfortable this was, the reality of a morning bladder could not be ignored.

  I started to ease myself out from under Theo as gently as possible. I carefully lifted his arm.

  He shifted, gripped me tighter, nestled in still closer, pressed his hips up against my thigh.

  Maybe he went to bed with a banana in his pocket, I hoped.

  I tried again, and, ever so slowly, gently, I moved to extricate my leg out from under his—banana—and I felt his muscles tense as he woke and realized.

  I knew exactly what was going to happen next.

  “What the—?” he said, already at the top of his voice.

  “Shhhh. Go back to sleep,” I whispered as I continued to pull myself out.

  “You bastard!” he yelled. He was up and slapping at my head, while I tried to cover myself. “I knew you were going to perv out on me! I told you not to try to touch me, you miserable old pus pocket!”

  “For the love of Mike, I’m begging you,” called Rebecca wearily from the bedroom. “One night is all I ask.”`

  Text from Madison

  Stop ignoring my texts.

  I’m writing a song. What do you want?

  At work?

  Duh. Now leave me alone.

  I’m in the city.

  The new show at MOMA is supposed to be fantastic. Knock yourself out.

  Meet me there?

  Of course not. Leave me alone.

  How about lunch?

  You should take one of those boat tours. They’re really cool. Did you know Manhattan is an ISLAND?!?!?!

  I’ll let you know when I’m back in the city.

  Chapter 22

  It’s for a Good Cause

  Theo

  If ever there was a time to put on your Sunday clothes, this was it. It was that benefit that had been making Tommy so crazy. Problem was, afte
r I’d invited myself along as Becca’s guest, I just didn’t have much in the way of Sunday clothes to put on. In fact I was wearing the same dress shirt, pants, tie and sweater I’d worn to Hamilton. A sweater because I couldn’t afford a jacket—and the shirt had a stain. There was nothing I could do about the gym shoes—complete with duct tape. I just hoped nobody looked down.

  That was as swanky as I got.

  Speaking of swanky, Rebecca and I got out of a cab in front of the Pierre—ooh la la. I have to say—Beccs looked amazing, all in black.

  “You owe me for this, you know,” she said.

  “Don’t you just charge the tickets off to the firm or something?”

  “No, actually.”

  “I’ll pay you back out of my first Broadway show, how’s that?” Rebecca didn’t think it nearly as funny as I did that I had RSVP’d myself as her plus-one.

  “You have some nerve is all, especially after that stunt with my friend Allen—”

  Rebecca also failed to see the humor when that little whiner Allen ran crying to her. She accosted me the first chance she got.

  “Allen who?” I said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Funny, because Allen said everything was great with him and Jeff until this guy with bright red hair showed up—”

  “Could have been anybody with—”

  “Who wrecked everything—”

  “While I’ll admit that does sound like me, it’s still circum—”

  “Named Theo.”

  “Okay, fine! I may have been in the vicinity. And you should ask Jeff how great their date was going.”

  And pop! No warning, she just hit me in the head with a Kleenex box. Some people really need to manage their tempers better.

  Anyway, back at the Pierre.

  “I’m not even sure why you’d want to come to this thing,” said Rebecca as we headed across the lobby. “I wouldn’t be here if I thought I could get out of it. These things are generally incredibly boring.”

  “I have a feeling this one could be interesting.” Of course I was thinking about what Tommy had told me, and the possibility of Jeff and this Fletch guy losing it. “I’m hoping it’s going to be a riot.”