by Hayes, Lane
Finn threw his head back and laughed. The wind carried the melodic sound and spun it around us like a veil of happiness.
“How about Finn’s Rock?”
“Not very imaginative. That could be your placeholder name until you think of something catchier. Some day in the distant future, we’ll randomly bump into each other at a Starbucks. We’ll say hello, I’ll pick up my double shot latte, wave adios, and then stop. I’ll snap my fingers and say, ‘Finn, what did you name that rock?’ It’ll take you a second to remember what the fuck I’m talking about but when it registers, you’ll know. And I bet it’ll be something almost as cool as Barry the Boulder.”
“You’re an odd one.” He snorted with amusement.
“Thank you.” I beamed before leaning back on my elbows and continuing my mini story. “Of course, your wife and kids will think so too. I’ll barely be out the door before they ask you who the weirdo is.”
“Your passive aggressive streak is showing, love,” he singsonged. “What is it you’re really trying to say?”
I furrowed my brow but didn’t respond immediately. He was right, but it was disconcerting to be called on it right away.
“I was hypothesizing a possible scenario, that’s all,” I bluffed.
“Try again.”
I sat up and pulled my knees to my chest. “Fine. I don’t think we’ll see each other again after today. I think you’ll marry Scarlet or someone rich and beautiful like you and have beautiful kids and a beautiful life. That’s all.”
“And you’re basing your hypothesis on…what? I told you I’m not getting married.”
“I believe you, but I don’t think anyone ever tells the whole truth. Including you. I don’t think it’s malicious. It’s more of a privacy-slash-mysterious thing. Like the less people know about you, the less ammo they have to use against you. Or hurt you.”
I stared at the horizon line as I spoke. My honest assessment would have been better served with a martini in a dark bar than on an isolated rock perched on a hillside in broad daylight. I’d left us both exposed with nowhere to run or hide. Talk about awkward.
“Are you talking about me or your father?”
“Fuck if I know. I’m just…confused. I hate that nothing feels safe or sure anymore. Everyone’s version of honesty is so different.”
“Ask me a question and I’ll give you an honest answer.”
“Huh?”
“You heard me. I’ll be one hundred percent honest if you promise the same.”
I cocked my head curiously, intrigued by his conspiratorial tone. “O-kay…then tell me about Dante.”
“Dante? He’s my friend.” His forehead creased in confusion then melted into easy humor. “Did you think we were lovers?”
“It crossed my mind,” I admitted.
Finn chuckled. “We aren’t and we never were. We did share a lover, but that was eight years ago or more. Oh, and we kissed once.”
“You did?”
“Yes, but it wasn’t good. We’re both too…controlling, I suppose. He’s a good-looking guy but he’s not my type. Is he yours?” he asked nonchalantly.
“We’re being one hundred percent honest, right? So I’m gonna go with…hell yes. He’s most people’s type, male or female.”
Finn snorted derisively. “If you say so.”
“What about Scarlet? I know she’s your friend but I don’t get the perpetual ‘plus one’ thing. Everyone sees you at high-profile functions and assumes you’re together and neither of you deny it. Why?”
“Because it doesn’t matter what they think as long as we know the truth.”
“What is the truth?”
He stared at me for a long moment but didn’t answer, which I figured meant we’d come to the end of our “honesty session.” I smiled wanly and started to turn away when he reached over and pulled my sunglasses low on my nose.
“The truth is we help each other out,” he said cryptically.
“How?”
“How do you think?”
“Sex or—you’re each other’s beards.” I saw that I’d guessed correctly by the look in his eyes. It was something akin to relief. Like he was happy not to have to say the word aloud. “Is she a lesbian?”
“Aye. But it’s not something everyone knows so…” Finn smacked his palm on the rock’s surface meaningfully then spoke in a thickened accent. “This is a secret stone now. Whatever is said here cannot be repeated. I’m serious. The fairies will take your voice and sell it to the sirens should you breathe a word without permission.”
“When you say ‘fairy,’ do you mean the rainbow warrior kind with a glitter wand like myself, or is this an Irish mythical creature who probably can’t afford the airfare to California?”
“A rainbow warrior and a cynic? Come now, Joshy. You can’t be both. Choose one,” he scolded playfully.
“Fine. I can keep a secret.”
He lowered his glasses and stared deep into my eyes as if gauging my sincerity. Then he pushed them on his nose and turned to face the ocean. “I had a crush on Scarlet when we met ten years ago. She was and is lovely. Inside and out. I wasn’t attracted to her sexually, but I liked being with her. She has a great sense of humor. She’s funny…like you. She’s one of those rare people who can always see a silver lining. For someone with a dark cloud over his head, she was magical. I’m superstitious. I started to think that meeting her when I did had to mean something.”
“You sound like Nick.”
“Hmm. I asked her to dinner. I made reservations at a fancy restaurant my grandmother had recommended. I wanted to impress her. I was a simple Dubliner with simple tastes. Scarlet was out of my league but at twenty-five, I had nothing to lose and maybe with her, I had something to gain.”
“Money?”
“No,” he scoffed indignantly. “A do-over.”
“A mulligan,” I amended.
Finn inclined his head with a slight upturn of his lips. His expression was earnest though. There was no trace of humor, laughter, or anything fun. I held my tongue and waited for him to go on.
“We met at the restaurant. She seemed confused to find me at a semi-private table alone when she showed up. Late, by the way. Scarlet is always late.” He rolled his eyes with mock irritation. “She could tell something was different about me. I stuttered every other word. It was painful…like being back in grade school again.”
“You stuttered?”
“Aye. It was terrible. When I was a kid, I saw a speech therapist a couple of times a week. I missed football practice regularly, which drove my father batty. That’s not the story I’m telling though.”
“Sorry. You were wooing Scarlet…” I reminded him with a tight smile.
Finn chuckled lightly and leaned into me so we sat shoulder to shoulder. “Right. Let’s just say I’m glad no one filmed me and that she put me out of my misery before I embarrassed myself any further. Scarlet set her hand over mine and very kindly told me not to speak. That got me a bit riled, I admit. I tried to plead my case but after thirty seconds of saying, ‘Scar, Scar, Scar’ she shook her head and said, ‘Finn, stop. I’m flattered but darling…you have a dick. I’m never going to be interested.’ ”
“So she’s in the closet?” I asked with a frown.
“She’s out to close friends and family. Her family was tolerant until she brought her lover to her cousin’s wedding. It was a disaster. Her aunt fainted, her mother had a fit, and her father drank. A lot. There were rumors of him and a stripper afterward, and it was a mess that turned into a PR nightmare. Brennan Enterprises is a giant conglomerate involved in everything from aerospace to communications. But they’re very conservative. Tawdry rumors about an alcoholic, philandering father and a lesbian daughter had to be squashed. Since that debacle seven years ago, I’ve been her date at any family event and most business functions too.”
“What about her girlfriend?”
“Her name is Keisha. She’s an African American former model turned
businesswoman. She’s bright and beautiful, and Scarlet’s over the moon for her. They’ve been together for years.”
“You said she’s engaged. Are they getting married soon?”
“I don’t know. She’s been quiet for her family’s sake. Her mom passed away last year and…I suppose the timing was never right. But she’s thirty-five now, and she wants to start a family.”
“What does that mean to you?”
Finn shrugged and looked away. “I just told you so you’d know you have no reason to be jealous of Scarlet.”
“Jealous is definitely not the right word. I’m not jealous because I’m not entitled to the emotion. But I’m confused. People associate you with her and infer you’re a couple, which is exactly what you want. Nothing is transparent with you. Maybe you’ve been part of her secret for so long, you don’t know how to be honest anymore.”
“I’m always honest,” he said testily.
“But you’re not open. I think you get off on being mysterious and unknowable. Not my kink. Not my problem.” I waved a hand dismissively.
“What is your kink?”
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“That sexy voice. It drives me crazy.”
“In a good way, right?”
I sensed his stare in my periphery but I cautioned myself not to give in and not to be charmed. He had a talent for throwing me off guard. And I wasn’t going there again.
“Look, I may be gullible to a fault and guilty of believing what I want but after brunch at my gay dad’s house, I’m beginning to realize my biggest issues have something to do with the closet. Why aren’t you out?”
“I am out,” he insisted.
“If you’re someone’s ‘beard,’ you’re at least partially in the closet.”
“Hmph. I may not discuss my sexuality in a business setting but I don’t hide my support of LGBT causes or—”
“Straight people support gay rights too.”
“True, and ‘people’ can think what they want. My personal life isn’t up for consumption. Privacy matters to me.”
“Whatever. So she bats for the other team and you like being a lone wolf. Your arrangement seems cold. I couldn’t do it. Reciprocation is important. Maybe she doesn’t want or need anything from you but—”
“She does want something,” he blurted.
He looked away again, but I could tell from the rigid set of his jaw that he wished he hadn’t opened his mouth. I waited for him to go on, but he remained stubbornly quiet and almost preternaturally still.
“What does she want?”
“A baby.”
Holy fucking crap! What the hell? My insides churned feverishly while I sought an appropriate response. I settled for, “Oh.”
“Oh?” he snorted. “That’s all you have to say?”
“Give me a minute. There’s more. I’m just having a hard time verbalizing it. I—does she want to have sex with you now, or is this a turkey baster thing?”
Finn furrowed his brow and cast a “what the fuck?” look my way. “She wants my sperm.”
“Okay, wow. That’s wild. So you’re going to be a daddy,” I said softly.
“Not necessarily. I told her I’d think about it.”
Something in his delivery stopped me. He sounded upset—or at least agitated. “Probably a good idea. Are you gonna raise the kid too? How would it work?”
Finn shrugged and looked away again. “Scar and Keisha would be the primary parents, but they’d like me to take an active role. It would be odd if I didn’t. We’re friends but…”
“But you don’t want to be a father,” I finished for him.
“That’s not it. It was…unexpected. I knew she wanted a family, but I didn’t think she’d ask me. I never thought I’d run into this again.”
“Again?”
Finn deflected the question with a subtle shake of his head and spoke quickly. “I can’t get my head around the idea, and I don’t think I have what it takes to be a good parent.”
“Most guys probably feel that way initially.”
“Maybe, but my example isn’t the best. I’m nothing like my father but I…can’t help worrying there’s some latent asshole gene reserved for offspring that I won’t be able to control. Professionally, I don’t care who thinks I’m a prick. If I’m short-tempered, brutally honest, or prone to taking advantage of stupidity for gain…so be it. It’s business. You’ve got to be sharp and stay on your toes. But you can’t be like that with children.”
“Have you told Scarlet your concerns?”
“Yes…she laughed. She seems to think I underestimate myself and then went out of her way to assure me there was no requirement on my time. I could come and go as I pleased. A father figure rather than a real dad. I liked that idea even less, but I also hate the thought I could ruin some innocent life simply by being…me.”
“You’re not going to ruin anyone. Especially not someone you want to help mold to be the best person they can be. My dad is amazing. He’s not perfect but he tries. He makes me want to try too. Today is a great example,” I said with a half laugh. “I don’t know how much you overheard in the living room but—”
“Everything.” He patted my knee when I winced. “Don’t be embarrassed. I’m in awe of your relationship with your father.”
“How?”
“You respect and admire each other. I don’t have that and…it’s heartening to know fathers and sons like you exist.” Finn sat up slightly and bent his knee as he faced me. “You have a funny way of thinking out loud, Josh. You see the positive, chastise yourself for mentioning the negative, and vow to be fair and supportive. I admire your tenacity and resolve. Watching you and your father do your best to put each other first was eye-opening for me. You’re a lucky man.”
“I guess I am, but”—I nudged his shoulder until he looked at me—“is that why you agreed to come with me to brunch…to watch the father-son show?”
Finn gave me a crooked smile. “It was fascinating, but no. I came because you invited me.”
“And?”
“I wanted to be with you.”
“And?”
Finn let out an amused huff then turned to face the ocean. “I wanted to see how your interview went.”
“Wait. You were worried I’d like Dante in a not-so-business-y way, weren’t you? You like me.”
He lowered his sunglasses down his nose and shot me another “what the fuck?” look. “It was a job interview, not a date.”
His careful disdain might have fooled me any other day, but not today. Maybe we were both raw, or maybe we’d seen and shared too many “real” events in a short period of time. Either way, I knew he was full of shit.
“You like me. Admit it,” I teased, pinching his arm playfully.
“I like you a lot,” he replied, capturing my wrist.
“I like you too, but I don’t really trust you.”
I half expected him to move into my space and overpower me with some sexy maneuver that would encourage me to do something impetuous like take my clothes off on the rock. But he didn’t budge, and his expression wasn’t seductive in the slightest. It was vulnerable. I furrowed my brow and cocked my head inquisitively.
“How do I prove myself? I want to know.”
“Finn, I know this has been a strange couple of weeks but…we can’t do this again.”
“We don’t have to do anything. In fact, I don’t want to do anything unless you trust me. But it would nice to have a friend who doesn’t want my sperm—”
“Actually, I do want your sperm,” I deadpanned before throwing my hand over my mouth and widening my eyes. “I’m such a ho. Don’t listen to me.”
Finn chuckled then slung his arm over my shoulders and mussed up my hair until I shoved him.
“You’re funny, Joshy. Friends?” he asked, offering his hand.
“Friends,” I agreed, batting his hand away.
“Good. We can start over. As friends only.
Maybe if we go slow, without sex getting in the way, you’ll learn to trust me.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “Just…don’t push me away like you did last year.”
I frowned at the “as friends only” addendum but let it go. “I won’t.”
Finn pulled me against his side and squeezed my shoulders in a quiet show of camaraderie. It took everything I had not to push him flat on the rock and climb him like a tree, but he seemed content to stare at the ocean with his arm around me like we were two old buddies. I wasn’t sure I liked it, but as the minutes ticked by and as my pulse returned to normal, a sense of calm came over me. I leaned into his touch, letting the worry, doubt, and fear go. I was good at friendships, and neither of us had room for anyone’s extra baggage. More might have been nice, but it could also be another version of the same story we’d been through last year. Somehow, this felt infinitely promising.
Chapter 7
The strangest thing about embarking on a “new” friendship with Finn was that it didn’t feel strange at all. I expected to fall back into our old habit of engaging in neutral conversations about art and literature as a precursor to sex, but our chat on Finn’s rock changed something. Maybe we knew too much about each other now. He’d been given an unwitting front row seat to the Sheehan family sideshow and instead of racing for the hills, he’d responded by sharing something of himself. I knew there were major pieces missing, but by giving where he never had before, he opened up a sense of possibility.
We knew “secrets” now. But more importantly, we knew the emotional baggage associated with our personal upheaval. We didn’t talk it to death, but if I had a conversation with one of my parents and wanted to get it off my chest, I had someone to confide in whose perspective wasn’t tainted by their own preconceived notions. My friends were one hundred percent in my corner and always willing to listen, but they were almost too close to the situation. They were my brothers. And like me, their unflagging support for my dad was tinged with confusion.
Finn wasn’t confused in the slightest. He was fascinated and almost rabidly curious about the dynamic between my dad and me. But not creepily so. Within a couple of weeks, we put the heavier topics aside and returned to mutual interests like museum exhibits in the area the way we had a year ago. We’d meet for drinks after work or coffee on weekends and extoll the virtues of a new collection we’d heard about. Invariably that would lead us back to my job situation and the French assignment he’d agreed to help me with. What it didn’t appear to lead to was sex. And while I’d initially thought that was a good idea, it was becoming obvious that we were torturing ourselves.