by Riley Hart
Fuck, that was a good idea.
18
Travis
“This is incredible, Travis. I really think it will work well. You should be proud. I’m impressed,” Steven says to me through the phone after I finish telling him about the fundraiser idea. I’m sitting in my car outside of Adelle’s, where I’m meeting my brothers for lunch.
There’s almost nothing I want more than for Steven to think I came up with this plan on my own. I want him to be impressed by me, impressed enough to want to give me money, but I’m not a liar…I also don’t take credit for shit that isn’t mine, and Gary deserves the praise for this. “Thanks, but it was all Gary. He really ran with the idea. Once he came up with it, he couldn’t stop talking about it.” I’d fucked the hell out of him. He’d had an orgasm screaming my name, and as we’d lain in my bed covered in sweat and come, he’d started popping off with more ideas about the event. “It was pretty cute, actually. He doesn’t typically let himself show how excited he is about something, but he had this burst of excitement pouring out of him like he couldn’t contain it. I could hardly keep up with him, but it was cool seeing him so happy about it. I couldn’t have come up with it without him.”
Steven chuckles. “I’m sure you could have, but I also respect the hell out of you for being honest. I think you sound more enthusiastic over Gary’s excitement than anything else.”
“I do?” tumbles out of my mouth, and I immediately wish I’d been able to hold the question back. Of course, I’m not happier about how Gary feels than anything else. Pulling this off for Steven affects my whole fucking life. That’s what’s important here. But then I realize that as much as I want this because of my career, Gary’s joy is also really fucking incredible to see. There’s a part of me that’s honored to be a part of it because of him.
“You do, and why am I not surprised you don’t realize it? You’re a good man, Travis, and Gary is lucky to have you.”
Only he doesn’t have me—not really. And if I’m being honest, I’m probably not that good of a man either. “Thank you, sir, though I think I’m the one who’s lucky to have him.” Guilt churns around in my gut. Just a few moments before I’d been saying I wasn’t a liar, but I am. This whole damn thing is a lie, and I dragged Gary into it. The only thing I’m not lying about here is me being the one who is lucky in this whole scenario with him.
“You’re welcome. I’m going to work on a few things on my end, and I’ll speak with Raymond. I’ll let you know what else I need from you and how things are coming along. You guys will handle getting the boys, right?”
“Oh yeah. That won’t be a problem.” Men are the easy part.
“You should participate, yourself. You’d be sure to be a hit.” There’s amusement in Steven’s voice, but I can also tell he’s serious. I’d basically promise this guy the moon right now if I thought it would get me what I want. Then I remember how Gary looked when he thought I was fucking Cody. Not that it should matter since this whole thing is a game. It’s not as if he has a say in who I strip or don’t strip in front of, but that fucker Peter did a real number on him. He’s a relationship guy, and all I can think about is how it might affect him—how it might make him feel or if it will give Peter some kind of satisfaction to see me do something that he knows would hurt Gary.
“I really don’t want to say no, but I need to talk to Gary first. I need to make sure it’s something he’s comfortable with before I commit.” Not because I have to, I remind myself. No one has any say over my life but me, but I really fucking hate Peter and want nothing more than to help Gary show the fucker that he’s over him.
“See? Good man,” Steven says again and a strange warmth settles in my chest. My parents sure as shit have never called me a good man.
“Eh, I have my moments.” I play it off.
We talk for another minute about our plans. When I see my brothers walk down the sidewalk toward the restaurant, I end my call with Steven and get out of the car.
“Hey, man. What’s up?” Malcolm asks when he sees me. I step up to the curb and give him a hug.
“Not much. How are you guys?” We pull away and I hug Martin next.
“Good,” Martin replies before we make our way into the restaurant. There were times when we were kids that the three of us didn’t get along—or I guess, I felt out of place with them, which really, I was. They’re blond like Dad, look like him when there’s no way I ever could since it wasn’t his swimmers that made me. That’s not something we talk about, though. We pretend it’s not the truth. The older we’ve gotten, the closer we’ve gotten as well. I wouldn’t have anyone who shared my blood and also gave a shit about me if it wasn’t for them.
We’re seated, and they order sweet tea while I get a beer.
“How’s work?” Malcolm asks.
“Good. I have some things going on. There’s a real possibility I could get my own place soon.” The words make me sit up a little taller, feel a little more responsible.
“You know we wouldn’t mind helping you with that, Trav. I don’t know why you don’t let us lend you the money to—” My body stiffens, and I give Martin a hard look that makes him add, “I’d understand it more if it was Mom and Dad’s money, but it’s ours. Still, I respect you wanting to do it on your own. Forget I said anything.”
“Yeah, but it came from your inheritances, so it’s still from them.” This isn’t the first time they’ve tried to lend me money. I won’t take it. I’ll continue on the way I am now or work for someone else before I do that. It’s different earning it from Steven than having my brothers hand it over to me in pity because our parents are homophobes.
“It’s good you’re looking into options. I have no doubt you’ll figure it out.” He’s also just trying to make me feel better, and I let him.
The waitress returns and takes our order. I get a fucking salad because I definitely need to keep my ass in shape if I might be stripping at Flirt for the fundraiser.
When the waitress leaves, it’s Martin who speaks again. “I’m going to ask Liz to marry me,” he says. Malcolm’s eyes go wide, likely because he probably assumed he’d be the first one to marry. I obviously won’t.
“Congrats,” Malcolm finally says.
“Why?” I ask.
“Jesus, Travis.” Malcolm shakes his head, but he’s smiling.
“It’s a good question if you ask me.”
“Because he loves her, you jackass,” Malcolm replies.
“Love makes you stupid.” They both look at me with eyes that tell me to shut up, so I hold up my hands in defeat. “I’m kidding. Congratulations.” I still don’t get why you can’t love someone yet not want to marry them, though. When I think of marriage, I think of our parents. They get along, but they sure as shit don’t look crazy about each other.
“Her birthday is coming up in a few weeks—first week in July. We’re having a party at the Hartley Inn. Mom and Dad will be there—her family, our friends.” Martin looks at me. “And both my brothers.”
Oh, fuck. I should have seen this coming. “I appreciate the offer.…Was that an offer by the way? It didn’t sound like one. I’m going to have to decline, though.” I didn’t even hear a peep from her after her birthday when I left the flowers. Not that I expected to. Even though I didn’t leave a card, there isn’t a part of me that doesn’t believe she knew they were from me.
“You should be there,” Martin tells me.
“They hate me. Why would you want me there? It will just make things awkward. It’s not fair to you, and it sure as shit isn’t fair to Liz.”
“Because the two of you are my best friends, and I want you there. Because Mom and Dad need to get over this shit. Because none of it should fucking matter. Because I’m tired of seeing you alone when the family gets together. Because if Liz says yes, you sure as shit will be at my wedding, considering you’ll be standing beside me with Malcolm as my best men. Are those enough reasons for you?” Martin asks with a smile—the fucker.
“Shit.” I groan and run a hand through my hair. “You have to go and get all sentimental, don’t you?”
“Yes,” he answers simply.
The truth is, I want to be there, but I don’t know if I can be…. “I won’t ever be anyone other than myself. I won’t ever be who they want me to be. I won’t lie for them. I won’t hide who I am from Liz’s family and friends.”
“She knows you’re gay, Trav. She doesn’t give a shit. If she did, I wouldn’t be asking her to marry me.”
My pulse speeds up and my chest feels full. “You sappy motherfucker.”
“You got him, Martin. There’s no way he can say no to that,” Malcolm adds and as much as I want to kill both of them…I’m thankful for them too.
“I hate you.” I cross my arms.
“You love me,” Martin replies. “And I know you don’t date, but if there’s someone you want to bring, you need to bring him. If Mom and Dad have a problem with it, they can leave. I love them, but they’re wrong here. Not you.”
I close my eyes, dropping my head back because how in the fuck do I say no to that? What I should say is thank you because I’m not sure Martin will ever know what those words mean to me.
And then…Gary fills my thoughts. I don’t even know if we’ll still be playing this fucked-up game when the time comes, but I realize that if I go to this party, I’m not sure I’ll be able to go alone.
Cody…I can always bring Cody. He’d love the shit out of playing it up for my family.
“Say yes,” Martin says.
“You really have no choice,” Malcolm adds. “You’re part of the family.”
Those words are meant to make me feel better, but all they do is make anger shoot through me because it shouldn’t matter. Why can’t they love me the way I am?
“I’ll think about it,” I say through gritted teeth. It’s then that the waitress brings us our food. The rest of lunch has a heavy tone to it. Martin and Malcolm can tell I’m pissed and I don’t try to hide it.
When I get back to my car, my fingers automatically move across the screen of my phone, finding Gary’s name. Maybe he’ll want to go work out with me to help me get my mind off this shit. It rings and rings before Gary’s voicemail picks up. I click end, not even sure why in the fuck I called him. What? To complain about my screwed-up family? Why should he have to deal with my shit? Why is he the first person I thought to call?
As I pull away, all I can think is, There’s nothing wrong with who I am. The only thing that’s wrong is hiding who that person is. Fuck anyone who doesn’t see it that way.
19
Gary
“I loaded the page three different times.” Eric’s voice comes through my Bluetooth earpiece as I sit at my desk, my laptop in front of me. “I added the one tab to the header that they wanted for their new price promotion, and then everything just went to shit.”
“Give me a minute,” I say. I can’t focus when he gets all worked up like this.
I scroll through the Notepad doc, checking over the code Eric was working with before the website for our biggest client, eSteem—a retailer for anti-aging products—started acting up. Eric typically runs codes by me before uploading changes, but he figured the adjustments were minor enough that he wouldn’t have anything to worry about. At least, that was his excuse when he called me in a fucking panic over this new crisis. Of course, this issue had to come up on a weekend.
“I’m already getting emails from Eva at eSteem because the checkout cart isn’t working,” he says. “That means they’re losing money…and that means fucking Alice is going to have my head when she finds out about this.”
Alice is the CEO of the IT company I’ve worked at for the past five years. Eric’s already on thin ice with her after he fucked up a major account we had with an online hardware retailer. It took me three weeks to repair the damage he’d done. The only reason he wasn’t fired over it was because he managed to convince Alice it was a mistake anyone could have made. I had his back at the time, mainly because he’s the contact who got me the job with the company. But it probably would have been better if Alice would have let him go then because more often than not, his issues arise from his carelessness and refusal to maintain his training with the major eComm hosts we work with.
He’s not passionate about coding the way I am. This is just a job for him. Coding is my life. My art. It’s having a vision and finding a way to bring it to life using my skills and knowledge. Keeping websites maintained and functional makes me feel smart. Clever even—although I sure as fuck wasn’t clever enough to figure out what Peter was up to.
I recall what Travis said about smart people getting cheated on just like anybody else, and my gaze shifts to my phone sitting beside my laptop.
Travis tried to call a few minutes ago. I’m curious to find out what he wanted, but he hasn’t texted, so it couldn’t have been all that important.
I’ll call him back as soon as I fix this issue. Because my actual life has to come before my fake one.
I keep searching through the code when Eric says, “So what’s this thing with Derek and Luke Henley?”
“What?”
“Derek and Luke Henley. The guy he’s seeing.”
“He’s not seeing anyone.”
“I know for a fact they’ve been hooking up for at least a month now.”
Has Derek seriously been seeing this guy without telling me? I’m used to him sneaking off to trick out with some random hookup from Scruff or Grindr. He’s like Travis. He could have sex with everyone in town and then start all over again without giving any more or less fucks about anyone he was screwing around with. But if Eric’s right, something’s up. Derek’s never been secretive about the guys he’s fucked around with.
“He sure as hell hasn’t told me about it,” I say, replaying the past few weeks in my head. “And he was like two seconds from having sex with a guy the other weekend.”
“They’re not exclusive or anything,” he says. “But Luke’s a big relationship guy, and Derek, well…you know, I don’t exactly see him that way. So I doubt anything’s really going to come of it.”
I’ve never known Derek while he was in a relationship. He was in one for three years with a guy he met during his brief stint at Georgia State University. That was before he dropped out and went to cosmetology school…before we ever met. But since I’ve known him, he’s always waved that single-flag high and proud.
As I go back through the past few weeks, I try to recall him saying anything about a guy he was messing around with. Have I been that shitty of a friend? Should I have noticed he was being secretive? Although between recovering from the Peter and Evan shit and my new phony relationship, I’ve been a little preoccupied.
I return my attention to the Notepad doc, and I notice a piece of code Eric misplaced. As usual, it’s just a careless error with major consequences…and a colossal waste of everyone’s time. I make the adjustment, re-upload it to the site, and make sure it’s functional.
Problem solved. Superass saves the day again.
A sense of ease fills me. Aside from Travis and Derek, coding has been the only thing that’s distracted me from my breakup. Just like when I was growing up and it distracted me from Mom and Dad’s constant worry and grief over my sis.
When I get off the phone with Eric, I return Travis’s call.
“Hey, what’s up?” I ask as soon as he answers.
“Not much.” He says that like he doesn’t have anything else to say, but I know he called for a reason.
Silence. Strange, uncomfortable silence.
“Did you butt dial me earlier?” I ask.
“Oh, no. I was just thinking maybe we should get together tonight and make a list of guys we can convince to work with us on the fundraiser. I was on the phone with Steven, and we need to make sure we have some guys good to go for the event.”
“Is that an excuse?”
“What?” He sounds defensive.
“To stalk some hotties on Facebook,” I joke.
He laughs. Although I’m wondering why he’s on edge. Something’s clearly bothering him right now.
“Oh, yeah. You know me,” he says.
His response confirms my suspicion.
“You wanna swing by around six?” I ask.
“Sounds good. I’ll pick up some food on my way over.”
We hang up, but I’m uneasy. I should have asked him what was wrong, but it’s none of my business. I don’t know him like that, and if he’d wanted to talk about it, he would have. I continue working on my other major projects for work—the ones Eric pulled me away from to fix the clusterfuck he created. Before I know it, it’s four fifty. I unlock the door and text him that Jacob isn’t home and to just come in whenever he gets here.
***
The sound of the door opening and closing precedes a boisterous, “Honey, I’m home.”
I turn off the water and open the glass door to the shower. “Be there in a minute, darling!”
He chuckles.
I grab my towel and dry off before tying it around my waist. I put on my glasses and head into the bedroom. Travis lies across the bed, eating from a plastic container with a salad in it. He has another placed beside him on the bed.
“Just make yourself at home, why don’t you?” I tease.
“Don’t mind if I do,” he says as he checks me out. It’s clear, as it always is, he likes what he sees. Makes me feel pretty fucking good about myself.
“You have a thing for salads?” I ask.
“I figured I might need to watch my waist.”
“Why would you need to watch your waist?”
“I was talking to Steven and he mentioned I should participate in the fundraiser. I was going to ask you about that tonight.”
My muscles tense up. We didn’t say anything about him being one of the guys stripping.
“What? You want to be in it? Like taking your clothes off?”