Sad we’re both staying at the beach but on opposite sides of the country. We’ll have to plan a vacation together. Do you know your schedule yet? Please call me when you get this. I’m dying to hear your voice. I miss and love you!
Ashley.
Stamped. Sealed.
Knock. Knock.
I get up and walk to the door, look through the peephole to see Fernando and Mikal.
“What’s up, boys?” I say, opening the door.
“We’re going to Pacific Beach. San Diego,” Fernando announces. “Come on, throw some stuff in a bag.”
“What? Right now? Tonight?”
“Yes, now. Come on, Ashley, we rented a convertible. But we gotta go now. The lines for the clubs start in two hours,” Mikal says, his stunning green eyes flashing at me. They make me wince. I have to look away.
“All right! Cool. Where’s Jordan? Is he coming?”
“No, Jordan found some freshman and they’re going dancing at the Factory. Just as well, we don’t need him causing shit for us in San Diego too.” Fernando laughs.
I throw stuff in a duffle bag, change quickly, and we are out the door. “Hold on, I forgot something.” I run back to the room and grab the letter for Chris off my nightstand.
“What’s that?” Fernando asks as we pack into the elevator.
“Oh, it’s a letter for Chris. I just want to drop it at the concierge on our way out.”
“Have you heard from him yet?” Fernando asks.
“No. It’s really strange. But I found this address, so we’ll see. I hope it gets to him.”
Mikal gives me an “I’m sorry, I’m here if you need me” smile. Slightly taller than both Fernando and I, he puts an arm around each of us. “We’re going to rock San Diego tonight! No worries. Just us boys out on the town.”
We pile out of the elevator, and I wish my letter good luck as I hand it to the concierge. The valet has our car waiting with the trunk open and ready for our bags.
“I love good service,” Fernando remarks as he tips the valet. “Thank you, sir.”
“Have a safe trip, gentlemen.”
The wind whips our hair as we cruise down the 5 Freeway. Mikal is driving, the epitome of cool, his white short-sleeved button-up undulating. I’m in the bucket passenger seat and can’t help but smile. Life is good, even when parts of it suck. This moment is perfect unto itself. Fernando, looking hot in a simple black T-shirt that accentuates every one of the muscles in his Brad Pitt body, is perched on the edge of the back seat. Hanging an arm over both bucket seats, he talks the whole way. Back seat doesn’t work for him; he needs to be in on the action. Flipping through the radio dial, I stop on the familiar first chords of one of my favorite songs: “Here I Go Again.”
“Uh—uh. You know Whitesnake?” Mikal asks. “This is great. Now I don’t feel so old.”
“Get over it. As if you’re old,” I say. “Wait, you’re like twenty-six…! Holy shit! You are old, man!” Fernando and I laugh.
What does this song mean to Fernando and Mikal? Are they just words or is it the same anthem that drives every man? Feeling that when it comes down to it, down to the wire, we’re alone. The heroes are, anyway. All true heroes have to step away from the pack. They have to risk something, maybe even themselves, in the pursuit of their dream. And somehow it feels the distance between Chris and myself is giving me perspective in preparation for an even greater adventure yet to come.
XIV
PACIFIC BEACH is the epitome of California. The streets are lined with people as we drive through town. Mostly college guys and girls who look like they’ve taken just enough time to rinse the sand off from a day at the beach and to throw on some clean clothes. Tan, blond hair, laid back. It’s a dreamland. It’s a wonder how anyone makes it through college in less than eight years. The beach and nightlife are a dizzying distraction. Easy to see how time would slip away, how one glorious surfing day melts into a laughing night melts into one glorious surfing day melts into a laughing night melts….
“This reminds me so much of home,” Mikal says, expertly slipping the convertible into a tight parking spot. “Except the humidity kills in Miami. You need to change your shirt four times a day.”
“I love my beaches. I miss the white sugar beaches of Puerto Rico,” Fernando says. “I dig California, but the water is dark and the sand is brown.”
“Have you ever been to the East Coast, Ashley?” Mikal asks as we climb out of the car and head toward a club.
“No, I’d love to.”
“We’ll have to go sometime. After we’re done with this contract, the three of us should take a week and hang in Miami. You guys would do really well for work there too. I could introduce you to my son.”
“Little Erik? Yeah, I bet he’s a chick magnet, huh?” Fernando asks.
“He does work well for that,” Mikal answers.
“So what’s your type, man? What are you looking for?” Fernando asks.
Mikal’s eyes dart to me. “Well… I dated Eric’s mom for a long time but… I….”
“Hey, let’s go in here, guys,” I interrupt, pointing to a sandwich board on the sidewalk. “Three bucks a draft. Ferni, what’s your poison?”
“Anything to make me loose on the dance floor.”
We descend into the Wicket, a bar below street level. Funky paintings with price tags adorn the rich brown walls, no doubt by local artists. The fixtures are brushed silver mirrors and candelabra chandeliers hanging precariously low. We make our way to one of a few open tables and sit in a forest green booth around a table etched by countless keys, bottles, and fingernails. A green wine bottle three-quarters full of oil and a rag wick serves as centerpiece. The atmosphere is somewhere on the steep slope of yesterday’s “it” and tomorrow’s “shit.” A cute blonde waitress lights our wine bottle lamp and welcomes us in a voice that has to be at least an octave above her regular register.
“What can I get you boys?”
“Round of draft. Two apiece,” Fernando answers. “You work here long?”
“Second day,” she answers.
“How ’bout I buy you a ‘celebrate your second day’ drink after your shift?”
She flushes. It’s hard to resist Ferni’s deep brown eyes and bad boy smile. Never mind what’s under his shirt. “Um, okay. I’m off in an hour. You’ll be here?”
“Anxiously waiting.” Flashing that smile again. Bad. She rushes off to the bar, and I see her giggling with another waitress and pointing in our direction.
“Smooth, Romeo,” I comment, shaking my head. “Must be that Latin blood.”
“I’ll teach you the ways of the master, my son,” he says, pressing his hands together and bowing.
“I think Ashley has his own thing going on. I bet he doesn’t have to try,” Mikal says, smiling at Fernando.
“Oh, you think so? So what do you like, Mikal? Someone to be passive or aggressive?”
“Well, I wouldn’t like a cocky shit like you throwing lines at me.”
“Because I know what I want and go for it, or because I’m a guy?”
“What?”
“Would you not take the bait because you don’t like lines or because I’m a guy?”
“What are you getting at, Ferni? I wouldn’t touch you because you’re you.”
“So, not because I’m a guy?”
Mikal looks at me pointedly. Accusing. “Look, I’m not taking this shit from you. You got a problem with me all of a sudden? What are you trying to figure out? Maybe you’re the gay one asking all these fuckin’ questions.”
Whoa. I’ve never seen Mikal so on edge. There’s a sleeping giant in the hills.
“Relax, man. I didn’t mean anything. I was just screwin’ around with you,” Fernando says. “For the record, I don’t give a shit either way. What you do is your business. If you want to talk to me about who you do, that’s cool too. Now I’m going to see if I can do that waitress any favors and help with our drinks.”
Waiting un
til Ferni has left the table, Mikal turns on me, green eyes flashing anger and hurt. “Did you tell him, Ashley? Did you tell Ferni what I said at the beach last week?”
“No, Mikal. I would never do that. Never.”
“’Cause it sounded like he knew an awful lot. I know you guys are buddies, but I put myself out there for you. That wasn’t for you to tell anyone.”
“I know. I swear I didn’t say anything. Ferni is just intuitive. He told me one of the first nights I was down here that he thought you might like guys and that… that you looked at me differently.”
“And what did you say?”
“I said he was full of shit. That you couldn’t get straighter than Mikal, that you were just like an older brother, watching out for me.”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing, he was whistling at a girl on the mechanical bull. Then I went outside to call Chris.”
Insult to injury.
“All right, I’m sorry I flipped out. I just went there in my head. You laughing with Ferni how ‘Mr. Straight’ Mikal hit on you.”
“I know. Forget about it. Ferni’s cool. Trust me. I told him I’m gay. He didn’t run in terror. He’s not like most straight guys. It doesn’t freak him out. He’s not threatened by it.”
“I know.” Mikal exhales audibly. “You probably don’t want to hear this but I… I meant everything I said on the beach. I don’t know what to do.”
I have a few ideas. To start with, we could ditch Ferni with the waitress, head to the hotel, and I could have sex with the most amazing-looking man I’ve ever seen.
“All right. Drink up, boys!” Fernando and our waitress have returned and clunk the drafts around the table. “Sorry, you guys okay? Did we interrupt something?”
“No, no. Right on. Cheers to Pacific Beach and our great-looking waitress,” I offer.
“Chelsea,” Fernando informs us.
“Cheers.” I clink glasses with Ferni and Chelsea and turn to Mikal, putting a hand on his knee as we clink. “To new friends.”
My hand is burning up, and I pull it away in an attempt to stop the roller coaster in my stomach. He lifts his eyes to meet mine and I’m suddenly sweating. I don’t know what’s going on. This isn’t like it was with Chris. This is something completely different. I know these eyes. I’ve been searching for them for a thousand years. The Wicket melts around us and all I see is Mikal. All I want to do is be with him. Forever and ever. Just like this. Just dreaming in each other’s eyes.
Noooooooo! No, no, no, no, nooooooooo!
I turn away and drink lustily.
“All right! Go, Ashley!” Fernando laughs. I empty the glass and reach for the second. Gulp gulp. Gulp gulp. Open the hatch. Like when we used funnels in high school. Get drunk as soon as possible. Done. A mild heat rises in my face and I feel impossibly full.
“Shots? Anyone?” I ask, already climbing out of the booth. Get up, away from Mikal. I head for the bar and Ferni and Chelsea are right behind me.
“I still have twenty minutes on the clock,” Chelsea explains.
“That’s all right, sweetie, join us when you’re done. We’ll be right here,” Fernando says. Easy to see why girls fall for him, the bad boy action hero. Turning to me, he says, “Wow, he kind of flipped out, man. I didn’t mean to razz him.”
“It’s cool. Mikal is just….” I catch myself smiling as I glimpse him sitting alone in the booth over Ferni’s shoulder.
“Just what?”
“Just on edge. Ferni, let me explain something to you. I know it doesn’t bother you one bit if someone is gay or straight. I don’t know what Mikal’s deal is, but I know as a guy who likes guys it isn’t easy. Even if the whole world was cool with it, you have to be cool with it yourself. It’s hard to be trusting once friends have burned you. Imagine you had three testicles. Other people might not give a shit, but until you don’t give a shit, you don’t necessarily want it to be dinner conversation.”
“Ashley, that is one whacked-out analogy. All right, man, I’m sorry. I just see two guys who are obviously into each other. One is hung up on being ‘straight’ and the other is with a guy that doesn’t seem to treat him that well. I just say cut the bullshit and get on with it. Or am I wrong and you’re not looking over my shoulder at him right now?”
“Man, you need to back off a bit. You don’t know Chris, and you don’t know about our relationship. I was looking at Mikal because—”
“All right, Ashley. Whatever you say, brother. I’m looking out for my friends too. I just want you to be happy,” Ferni says. “You think you’re going to be okay with tomorrow’s shoot?”
“I’m not getting plastered, man, just a little buzzed. Don’t worry about me.”
“That’s not what I mean. Haven’t you seen the call sheet?”
“No, I forgot to look when we left LA. Who’s working?”
“You know how Otter Fashion likes to push the envelope, right? Seems I’m not the only one who thinks you and Mikal have some heat.”
“Fernando, what are you talking about?”
“Well, the call sheet has just you and Mikal listed. Day off for everyone else. It read ‘Ashley & Mikal. 2:00 p.m. The kiss.’”
“What?”
“I don’t know, brother. Everyone was talking about it. I figured you knew.”
“Seriously? They aren’t going to have two boys kissing.”
“You’ve seen the catalogues. It’s all a little gay. I wouldn’t be surprised. If you have issues, you should call Marc at Production.”
“I’m going to. This is crazy. They didn’t talk to me.” I dial Production on my cell and am sent to voice mail. Of course, who would answer at 11:00 p.m. on a Friday? I march over to Mikal, who’s still looking into his beer. “Hey, do you know what’s going on tomorrow?”
“What d’ya mean?”
“The shoot. The kiss?”
“Yeah, I saw that. 2:00 p.m., right?
“Mikal, this isn’t a big deal to you? Why didn’t you say something to me?”
“I thought you saw the call sheet, Ashley. I didn’t think tonight was the right place to talk about it, with Ferni and all.”
“So when were you planning on saying something to me? Right before we went into a lip-lock?”
“Ashley, I don’t think it’s like that. I just think they like that I’m dark and you’re blond. Marc explained it as a brotherly thing.”
“What brothers kiss, Mikal? It’s crazy!”
“Okay, separate the personal stuff for a minute. It’s amazing marketing. It could be the most talked-about tear sheet this year. Think of what it could do for our careers. Everyone will be calling. Versace, Dolce & Gabbana, Prada….”
“My mother, my father, every friend and relative who doesn’t know I’m gay,” I say. “What about you? You freak out at Fernando earlier because you’re in the closet and tomorrow you’re going to kiss me for the camera and all the world to see?”
“What a better way to come out?”
I release an exasperated breath. “You can’t be serious.”
“It’s not like because we do that shoot we’re gay. We’re just models who kissed in that campaign.”
“No, Mikal, trust me. We do that shoot, we’re gay. No question anymore. At least in the eyes of any talent agent, manager, casting director, and producer who sees it!”
“Why the fuck does it matter? It’s not like your entire career hinges on tomorrow. Everyone’s gonna figure it out eventually.”
“Maybe I’m not ready for everyone to have me all figured out. I’ve just arrived in LA. This has been my dream since… forever! I need a little time to figure out the right moves. I don’t want to fuck up my chances of future work because of one shoot.” I sink into the booth and rake a hand through my hair.
“I thought you were out, Ashley.”
“I am. Recently. Doesn’t mean I don’t care what people think. Doesn’t mean I know what the fuck I’m doing. I’ve been telling people. Slowly. Th
at shoot just sounds a lot like ripping off a Band-Aid.”
“Maybe it won’t be so scary if we do it together.” Mikal reaches across the table to take my hand, but I pull it back.
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this. This is some kind of joke, right?” His face doesn’t change. “Mikal, what the hell’s the matter with you? Nobody—okay, nobody but Ferni would ever think you might like guys…. Why do you want to risk your career?”
“’Cause I’m tired of all this shit. I’m tired of hiding. I’m not me, Ashley. I don’t even know who I’m supposed to be. I’m just fuckin’ tired of playing the game. I don’t think the sky is going to fall if we kiss for the campaign tomorrow. I don’t think we’re gonna lose jobs. If anything I think we’ll probably get more calls for work. People can think whatever they want. I don’t want to care so much anymore, it’s exhausting. I pretend for a living, and that’s okay. I don’t want to pretend in my real life. I look at you, eighteen, have a boyfriend, you got it figured out. You’re cool with it all.”
“First off, buddy, I’m hardly ‘cool’ with the whole thing. Yeah, I have a boyfriend, I think. I mean he’s moved to the other side of the country and forgot to let me know.” I chew the inside of my cheek and take a moment to collect my thoughts. “Coming out hasn’t been easy. I’ve hidden who I am from a lot of people. With every new person I meet, I run through this algorithm of scenarios, guessing and second-guessing how they might react.”
“Some even think it’s our fault, like we chose to be different or something.”
“Trust me, growing up in a small Canadian town where everyone was obsessed with hockey and I just had crushes on the players, I did not choose this. It’s not like I didn’t try. I dated girls; I had sex with girls. I’d just rather be with a guy.”
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