Husband Hunters

by Rick R. Reed

  Cody shook his head and hurried away, feeling himself grow hard.

  He sat back down next to Matt, and Matt started off with: “After I suck him off, he then makes me—” But the fantasy came to an abrupt halt when Cody heard his number called. He put up a hand to silence his friend so he could listen over the hum of voices.

  “Number 113! Number 113, please follow me.” The Asian man was already moving away from the microphone.

  “That’s me!” Cody shouted. He felt himself grow a little faint, a little weak in the knees. He swore his heart was double-timing.

  “Well, go on!”

  Matt looked—What? Angry? Disappointed? What’s up with that? Ah, he’s probably just mad because I got called first. And so soon…

  Cody stood, staring back at Matt helplessly.

  Matt shooed him away. “Just go with the nice man. I can’t come with you or hold your hand. You’ll be okay. Go on, now.”

  “Really?” Cody asked, desperate. If Matt wasn’t there to witness it, Cody thought he would sprint from the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the guy step up to the mic again. Good. He’s probably going to call someone else.

  “Hey, 113! Last call for 113.” The man scanned the room.

  Cody felt Matt stand behind him, and then Matt gave him a push. “Go on. I want you to go and then report back with all the questions they ask so I can really shine.”

  Cody still was tempted to bolt for the door but then realized the man at the mic had witnessed the shove and Cody’s resulting stumble. He felt like a fool. So instead of bolting, he followed. He was sure the grin he quickly plastered on his face looked nothing more than sickly.

  And he was glad. He didn’t want to do this stupid show anyway.

  He followed the Asian man from the ballroom. Once they were outside, the guy introduced himself, extending his hand. “I’m Marc. How are you today?”

  “Peachy,” Cody replied. “What’s gonna happen to me?”

  For once in his life, he hoped he wasn’t going to have to blow somebody. Damn you, Matt.

  Chapter 3

  Matt watched Cody go with something akin to longing. Why couldn’t he just come out and tell his best friend he was in love with him? Oh, he had tried, in dozens of different ways on dozens of different occasions. But throwing your arms around a buddy when you were shitfaced in some bar and proclaiming almost tearfully, “I love you, man!” was rightfully viewed as the liquor talking. It was the kind of pronouncement that took its cue from a beer commercial.

  Matt’s little acts of kindness—bringing Cody homemade chicken soup when he had the flu, buying him a copy of Armistead Maupin’s latest Tales of the City stories just because, calling him up late one night to share, over the phone, Barbra Streisand singing, “Some Other Time”—all were appreciated but never really viewed as acts of true love. At least not by Cody.

  Matt chuckled. The Streisand over the phone was a gay moment if there ever was one. But Matt had just discovered the song, and it was so beautiful and plaintive that he could think of no one else he wanted to share it with. So he had wakened Cody from sleep after midnight one school night and played the song for him. He remembered Cody had been mad until he listened to Babs singing those lyrics that reached right in and clutched at your heart, the loss barely contained within them. By the time she was finished singing, Cody wasn’t mad anymore, and he had thanked Matt for sharing the song with him.

  Matt still had the album, Love is the Answer. He had planned on giving it to Cody as a surprise. He remembered he had brought it to school the Monday after the weekend he had bought the CD. But then Cody had come into school that day all excited about yet another guy he had met and how this one was “different” from all the other men who had disappointed him in the past. “He’s really cool, you know. We have a lot of the same interests. And the sex was great! Oh, man! Even better, the guy made me laugh. We’re going out on a real date this Friday. He’s taking me to Sky City,” Cody had told him, referring to the rotating restaurant at the top of the Space Needle.

  Matt had held the CD in his hand as he listened to his friend that Monday morning in the teacher’s lounge. As Cody spoke with more and more infatuation and euphoria, Matt felt more and more sheepish at having bought the CD. When Cody had finally stopped waxing rhapsodic about this new guy, whose name was Nate, he’d glanced down at the CD in Matt’s hand. “What’s that?” he asked.

  “Nothin’,” Matt had responded, stuffing the CD back in his backpack.

  Now he recalled how Babs sang about “too many words unspoken.” He shook his head.

  Cody was already gone, and Matt scanned the room, looking for someone else he might like to connect with, someone else to get hot for.

  But there was no one. No, the man he was hot for, the one he wanted, had left the ballroom a few minutes ago. Matt sat back down with a sigh and stretched out his legs again, crossing them at the ankle. He folded his arms across his chest.

  It was silly, really. He should just let go of his fantasy about Cody, about which Cody himself was clueless. For one thing, Matt thought, like Wayne and Garth in the old Saturday Night Live skit, he was not worthy of Cody. The guy was clearly out of his league, and Matt knew he should accept that and move on, find someone more on his own level—nerdy and quirky. Fun to be around. A guy you could bring home to Mother.

  Cody was hot. Matt had no trouble picturing him in nothing but a pair of Calvin Klein’s on a Times Square billboard. Yes, it was not out of the question. And the best part was, Cody didn’t even know it. He was gorgeous and humble too, which was, to Matt’s mind, one of the most winning of combinations.

  And even if Matt wasn’t drop-dead handsome, there was something between the two of them that Matt had seldom found. He wasn’t sure how to describe it. It was just an easy familiarity, a sense that he didn’t have to hide who he was when he was around Cody. He could simply be himself, and Cody seemed to value everything about him, his flaws as well as his virtues. When he was with Cody, he was home.

  He asked himself once again why he had dragged Cody along to this audition, tryout, whatever the hell it was. It would seem to work against everything Matt dreamed of. Matt had come up with some crazy schemes in their time together as friends, but this had to be one of the weirdest.

  It was almost self-destructive. He was leading the man he was in love with away from him instead of toward him.

  And maybe that was the point.

  Matt needed to get over Cody and keep their relationship fixed firmly where it belonged; they were friends and nothing more. Matt knew Cody didn’t have feelings for him, not those kinds, anyway. Cody loved him, sure, but like a brother. Like a best pal. It was to Matt that Cody always ran when yet another guy stung his heart, when he stood Cody up or failed to call. And Matt, ever dutiful, would always do his best to boost Cody’s confidence, telling him he could have anyone.

  What he most feared saying, though, was that anyone meant Matt.

  He was certain Cody would just laugh. Not because he was cruel, but because the idea was absurd. Men like Cody did not end up with guys like Matt.

  It was that simple.

  And maybe that was the reason Matt had insisted on coming here today. Maybe if Cody did find the man of his dreams, Matt could finally let go. He needed to move on, find his own man, one who was appropriate for him.

  Maybe Husband Hunters would provide the right man for both of them. The show could kill two birds with one stone.

  Why did the idea make him so sad?

  * * * *

  The producer was not at all what Matt had projected. And Cody had to admit to feeling a little disappointed as he was led into a much smaller conference room. His libido had told him that just maybe the fantasy Matt had dreamed up would come true.

  But the woman (yes, woman!) sitting before him looked like someone’s mother, maybe even his own, back in the Chicago suburb of Wilmette. If Cody had to guess, he would say she was about fifty, with silky si
lver-gray hair that hung down to her jawline in a poker-straight bob. Her face was smooth and unlined, and when she smiled at him, she revealed perfectly white teeth, like Chiclets, and warm, bright brown eyes. It was her eyes that put Cody at ease, welcoming.

  After thanking Marc, she invited Cody to come in and take a seat. She clicked a few keys on the laptop in front of her. “Just to confirm: I’m talking to Cody Mook?”

  “That’s me.”

  The woman removed her gaze from the laptop keyboard and let it settle on Cody. She smiled. “And I’m Martha Stewart.” She chuckled. “No, really! The name is the bane of my existence! Everyone expects me to know how to make napkin rings or whip up a raspberry soufflé.” She shook her head. “I’m lucky if I can make toast. So, why don’t you tell me what brings you to Husband Hunters.”

  So it’s going to be like this, is it? A friggin’ job interview. Tell me a little bit about yourself… What’s the next question? Where do you see yourself in ten years?

  In spite of the snark caroming around in his head, Cody managed to smile back. “Matt Connelly.”

  “I beg your pardon.” Martha cocked her head, carefully plucked eyebrows coming together in confusion. “That’s not the answer I usually get. Who’s Matt Connelly? And should he be on the payroll?”

  That made Cody laugh. He motioned with his thumb over his shoulder, toward the ballroom. “He’s out there. Matt’s my best friend. He’s the one who dragged me down here.”

  “Dragged you down here?” Martha folded her hands in front of her. “So, what are you telling me, Cody? You’re not interested?”

  Cody felt a flush of heat rise to his face. What was wrong with him? Why didn’t he just play along? After all, he was there and he might as well make the best of it. And then a phantom thought popped into his head, just an image, really. It was the Jesse Williams lookalike biting into a maple bar. Maybe if he pursued this thing, he would end up with someone as fine as that man, or at least his equal.

  “I’m sorry,” Cody said. “It was, in all honesty, my best friend’s idea, but I have to admit, I’m intrigued.”

  “And why is that?”

  Here it is—your chance to redeem yourself. Cody opened his mouth to speak and was seized with a feeling he couldn’t put his finger on. Was it apprehension? Did he fear embarrassing himself? He thought he’d say something glib and funny, but his first thought was painfully honest. He shrugged, tried to slow his galloping heart, and decided he had nothing to lose. “Because I’m alone.”

  Martha’s smile became warmer. She nodded. “We’re all alone.”

  “I know. But here’s the thing. I date. I hook up. I meet men all the time.”

  “I’m not surprised, looking the way you do.” Martha winked.

  Cody cast his eyes quickly down at the patterned carpeting, rust and beige, at his feet. “Whatever. Thank you. I’m not bragging, though.” He lifted his eyes to Martha, who leaned back in her chair, waiting. “I meet lots of great guys, but not one of them is the great guy. You know what I mean?”

  “Hey! I’ve been married six times. I know what you’re talking about. You’re preaching to the choir, sweetheart!” She let out a peal of laughter.

  “Really? And you work on a show about marriage?”

  Martha leaned forward. “I work on a show about marriage because, in spite of my man woes, I am an incurable romantic. Even after all the heartbreaks, I still look. I still believe someone out there is the one.”

  Martha’s words went right to Cody’s heart. “Yeah, that’s it. Look, I’m twenty-eight, and I’ve had a few nice dating relationships here and there, one where we even came close to moving in together, but for one reason or another, it never seems to work out.”

  “Why do you think that is?”

  “What is this? Therapy?” Cody snorted. “I’m sorry. I’m nervous. When I get nervous, I become a smartass.” Cody traced a circle on his jeans, around and around. Finally he looked back up at Martha. “If I knew the answer to that question, I probably wouldn’t be sitting here before you.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Some of them seem too needy. One guy turned out to be into drugs, although he kept that fact hidden from me for a long time. Odd thing was, he was one of my favorites. A real sweetie. Some just fall off the radar, you know?” Martha nodded. “Things seem to be going great and then suddenly, no calls, no texts. And you can’t seem to reach them either.”

  “Cowards!” Martha cried. “I’ve had my share. They don’t want to go out with you but are too afraid to just man up and say so. So they play the passive-aggressive game. Boo hiss.”

  Cody smiled, nodding. “Right?” He drew in a big breath. “My friend Matt says that maybe I’ll meet the right man here.” He grinned. “That is, if I get on the show.”

  Martha didn’t offer any indication, either way, if that would happen. “And maybe you’ll meet him right out there in the ballroom.”

  “That’s what Matt said! I did have my eye on one guy.”

  “There are quite a few cuties out there.” Martha moved her laptop closer. “I do have some standard questions I’d like to go through, about your background, what kind of things you’d look for in a potential mate, stuff like that.”

  Cody thought it was promising that she wanted to ask those things. “Answer right and I’m in like Flynn?”

  “For someone who was ‘dragged’ here, you certainly seem eager!”

  “Maybe I am,” Cody conceded, realizing suddenly it was true.

  “Well, if you answer right, the next step would be a quick video interview with one of the show’s directors. You know, kind of like a screen test. Then, if you pass that, you’ll be in like Flynn. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

  “Okay.” Cody leaned forward, expectant. “What do you want to know?”

  Martha went through what Cody assumed were all the standard questions, many of them duplicating what he had already answered on the online form. She asked him stuff like did he practice any religion? What did he like best about his job? If he had a weekend to himself with nothing special to do, how would he spend it? Did he ever think of having children? When had he come out? Who were the three most significant people in his life and why?

  That last question caught him by surprise, calling as it did for deeper reflection. Cody leaned back in his chair. “Give me a second,” he said softly.

  Martha’s warm eyes appraised him. “Don’t think too hard. Just say the first three that come to mind.”

  “Okay.” He had thought of three people right away, but who they were surprised him. He chuckled. “My mom. She’s a lot like you, at least in the looks department. She’s an interior decorator back in the Chicago area, divorced, but has a good life, big circle of friends, plays grandma to my sister Elaine’s two boys, but yet she always seems to be able to make me feel like I’m the most special person in the world when I call, which I don’t often enough, a fact which she never lets me forget.”

  Martha smiled, nodding.

  “But when I do call, and it’s pretty often—I’m not that bad—she always takes in everything I say as if it’s the most important news she’s ever gotten.”

  “And maybe it is.”

  “I guess it’s why, when anything good or bad happens, the first thing I usually want to do is call Mom.” He laughed self-consciously. “I guess that makes me a mama’s boy, huh?”

  “It makes you a lucky boy,” Martha said. “Who else?”

  “I had this one teacher in college? He was an old guy, just this little old white-haired man, always wore a bow tie and these big black glasses. God, he was funny. He taught creative writing, and I just took his class for fun, because I knew I wanted to teach. But he taught me so much about saying the right thing and that the best way to say it was often the simplest. He just has a place in my heart.”

  The last person was actually the first who popped into his head, and it surprised him the most, which was maybe why Cody debated telling Martha at all. He briefly
toyed with naming his sister, or the cool priest he had as a kid, or even Pepper, the cocker spaniel who was his constant companion growing up. But in the end he thought he should be honest.

  “Who’s the last person, Cody?” Martha urged.

  “Matt.”

  “The guy you came with today?”

  Cody nodded. “He’s my best friend. Sometimes I swear it’s more fun spending time with him than going out on a date with a hot guy. He gets me, you know? We can just sit and not even talk and it’s comfortable.”

  “I see. I have someone like that in my life. And, oddly enough, it’s someone I’ve never been married to.” She laughed. Then she asked, “Isn’t Matt hot?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Earlier, you said something like you’d rather be with Matt instead of some hot guy. That makes me think he’s pretty plain.”

  “Oh, now he would tell you he’s plain. That’s part of his charm. But while he’s not handsome in the typical sense, he’s got this manly vibe going on that he isn’t even aware of. Hey, did you ever watch Bruce Willis in that old TV show he was on with Cybil Shepherd? What was it called?”

  Martha grinned, and Cody assumed it was with nostalgia. “Moonlighting. I loved that show.”

  “Well, Matt’s kind of like a young Bruce Willis.”

  Martha fanned her hand in front of her. “Be still my heart!”

  “Right? He thinks I’m the hot one and he’s chopped liver.”

  “Did you ever correct him?”

  Matt knew his grin was sheepish. “Not really. It would just seem weird. We’re buddies, you know? We don’t flatter each other much.”

  Martha took in a deep breath. “Well, as much as I’d like to sit here and gab the day away with you, Mr. Mook, I have a few dozen other guys to see before I can go upstairs to my room, kick off my shoes, order room service, and drop off to sleep.”

  “Dismissed?”

  Martha nodded. “Out.”

  “Am I in?” Cody grinned.

  “Remember what I told you about an on-camera interview being the next step?”