I’m getting tired of being on my own.
I helped Rosie retrieve her luggage and listened to her talk about her trip. She waited until we were in the car, halfway to her modest house in the West Hills, to start grilling me about Cay.
“So. This man you’re seeing.”
“Rosie…”
“Don’t try to pretend you’re surprised I’m bringing him up.”
“Not surprised so much as…reluctant to discuss it.”
“Get over it.” I glanced at her and she smiled an apology. “That wasn’t supposed to sound so harsh. But I do want to hear about him.”
“He’s…” He’s everything I always wanted in a man. No. He’s…so hot I can hardly stand it. No. “He’s nice.”
“Jeez, B. You make it sound too exciting.” She waited, impatiently, for all of two seconds. “Have you brought him home yet?”
“No. How was the Guggenheim?”
“We already talked about that.” Her long-suffering sigh was all too familiar. She’d been hand-holding me for four years and had probably had enough. “If you want to, you should. That’s all I’m saying. Once you’re sure he’s okay. If he flips out on you later, we can always move you to that cute house you were looking at. That one with the little barn? It’s still available.”
“Rosie.” I half-heartedly tried for a warning tone, but it sounded closer to whiney.
“What? I’m just saying you can have any fun you want and there’s always an out if you need it.”
Her encouragement made me smile. She really did want me to have fun, and not only because it would probably be good for my production for BaxCo. The depression of the last half decade had not been good for me, personally or career-wise. Getting out of bed had become difficult enough toward the end of my relationship with Rob, and I’d left my job and abandoned my friends—if Rosie hadn’t stuck with me, I’d probably still be with him, at the mercy of his moods and his temper.
I shook my head to clear those unhealthy thoughts and refocused on the road and our conversation. “You just want that house.”
“Not just.” She laughed. “I want you to get your man too. If you won’t tell him where you live, he could think you’re hiding something. In the not mysteriously sexy kind of way. Like a dungeon, or an unfinished basement filled with shallow graves. Or a wife.”
She shuddered theatrically, and we chuckled.
But I couldn’t deny she was right. If I wanted anything real with Cay I had to move past my fear and let him know me—the real me—so he could decide where he wanted to be. With the hermit—ex hermit—or off to greener pastures.
Chapter Four
Cay
Over the past two weeks or so, Bryan had pulled back. Not a lot. He said he had a lot of work to catch up on, meetings to attend and more than one project to finish, and I had no reason to doubt his word. But it still stung.
The second time—in a row—he wanted to meet at a restaurant instead of go together, I asked if I was moving too fast. He said no, but his voice shook while he said it, so I let it drop. After ten days, I was going through withdrawal. We hadn’t been back to my place once in that time, and I still didn’t know where he lived.
Or his last name.
But I hadn’t told him mine either.
And he hadn’t asked.
Despite the way I felt about him, it was starting to look like my perfect man had something to hide. Or at least a reason to be cautious. Just because he didn’t have a kid in the picture—not a visible one, anyway—that didn’t mean he was completely free to take up with a stranger.
Maybe sleeping in isn’t the best way to start today—especially since I can’t go back to sleep.
I stuffed my worries away and got out of bed. I was going to have breakfast with the gals and then meet him at Pride. If I was lucky, I’d convince Bry to go dancing afterward. Dancing is the best foreplay in the world, and I had started to feel a little desperate. I needed to touch him, to kiss him, to feel his—
Before I could take hold of my morning “hello” from downstairs, someone knocked on the door. I leaped out of bed and barely remembered to grab a pair of shorts to jump into on the way. I yanked the door open and there were the two women in my life, all decked out in their rainbow attire.
“A bit underdressed, don’t you think?” Val drawled. Her wide eyes and the half step she took back when the door burst open said she wasn’t as casual about it as she sounded.
“Dad, are you just getting up?”
“Um, yeah. Come in and I’ll get dressed.”
Mac came in, but Val stayed in the hallway. “I’m dropping her off. Obviously you don’t remember, so I’ll remind you that you’re taking her to Pride and she’s coming with me at six so you can have some…adult…fun of your own.”
“Oh. Sorry. Busy week. Guess I did forget.”
Mac started playing one of her new songs on my guitar so she must have wanted to listen. When she wanted to block us out, she opted for keyboards and headphones.
“He’s not here, is he?”
“No.” I smoothed my hair down the best I could and waited for the rest. Didn’t want to let Val know how much I wanted to end this conversation; she’d smell blood in the water and we’d be here talking about it until she needed to leave and meet the rest of the band.
“Okay.” She looked past me, and I turned to Mac too, grateful for the diversion. “Have fun and don’t ditch your father.”
Mac nodded and looked from her mother to me and back again. I felt like I should have known what she was thinking by the look on her face, but my intuition didn’t feel especially reliable lately.
Val left, and I pressed my forehead against the door for a few seconds. When I turned around, Mac stood and leaned the guitar against the couch.
“You okay, Dad?”
“Yeah. Let me grab a shower and—”
She practically ran into me and wrapped her arms around me.
“You might want to wait until after the shower to do this.”
She made a scoffing sound. “I hugged you after that mud marathon. This is nothing compared to that. And I can tell you need it.”
I rested my cheek on the top of her head and returned her embrace. “Thanks, cupcake. Sorry I forgot you were coming over this morning.”
“You were supposed to come pick me up. That’s why Mom was so pissy. It’s okay. I know you didn’t forget me.”
I squeezed her and she “oofed” like I’d squeezed the air from her. “I’d never forget about you. I love you.”
“Did you and Bryan break up?”
“What? No.” Maybe I didn’t need to say that quite so loudly, but apparently I needed to convince myself.
“Because—I love you, too, but you sound sad.”
“Not awake yet. I’ll get with the program.”
“Will he be there?”
“Not sure. He’s busy…a project for work.”
She pulled back and studied my face. “Did he tell you what he does?”
“No. And I didn’t ask. If he wants to talk about it, then we will.”
“That’s a strange deal you have going there, Dad. You know that, right?”
“Yeah. But whatever he’s doing, it’s gotta be more important than customer service crap—”
“Hey. What is it you always tell me? About the importance of specific jobs…”
I groaned, but a small part of me was glad she’d been listening. We can’t all be doctors or lawyers or legal assistants like Val who gets paid for sticking it to the man—in the form of the Social Security Administration, which routinely denies even the most disabled and destitute applicants—and the last thing I wanted was for Mac to hate on herself for the way she earned a living.
“No small jobs, only assholes who make you feel bad for not making as much money as they do.”
“Good boy. Now go take your shower and take me to Pride.”
By the time we got to the Waterfront, there was a long line at the gate. As we gradually closed in on the festival, Mac’s chatter became higher pitched and she talked faster. Her head had been swiveling since we got there, so I guessed she was looking for someone. I didn’t guess, though, that she’d turn to me with a serious expression and say:
“Dad. I’m bi. And I have some gender things going on too, but am not ready to talk about that yet.”
It only took me a second to wrap her in a hug. “Thanks for telling me, Mac. I love you.”
She hadn’t stopped wiggling, so I let her go, and she smiled at me. “Mom knows.”
“I’m glad.” I kissed her forehead and brushed a string of rainbow feathers she had clipped into her hair away from her face. “Anytime you want to talk—about anything—let me know.”
“Thanks, Dad.” She smiled and then whirled and raised her hand to wave. “Bryan! Over here.” She grinned at me as she stepped clear of my embrace.
Before I could decide whether to scold her for playing me, I saw him. My brain stuttered on Mac’s news, but only for a few seconds. If Mac didn’t want to talk about her coming out, I was fine with that. Well. Fine for now.
Okay. Not really fine. But if she needs time, she gets it. It’ll give me time to get my head around my little girl growing up, plus…everything else.
I hope.
When he stepped out from under the tree and came toward us, it was all I could do not to meet him halfway. Bryan was wearing his lavender T-shirt; it and his salt and strawberry hair made a stunning combination. More than just my head turned as he neared the line, but I didn’t think that’s why he was smiling. He strode up to me and slid his arms around my neck, and I grabbed his waist as our lips met. The kiss wasn’t the kind that could get us doused with water, but it was enough to make it clear he’d missed me too.
We parted, and I brushed my hand across his cheek before turning to Mac. I couldn’t resist touching that sexy shadow on his face.
“Nice to see you again, Bryan.” Mac smiled. “This is my ‘coming out’ Pride, so I’m glad you could join us.”
“It is? That’s cool. Congratulations, Mac.”
Bryan hadn’t joined us in line, not completely, and as he turned to face front, some kids ran by, making him flinch. The shadow that raced across his face vanished when I rested my arm across his shoulders.
“Thank you. What about you, do you have a cool coming out story?”
I frowned at her. Hopefully if he didn’t want to share he’d say so.
“Um…it’s not very interesting. My dad asked if I wanted him to take me to rent a tux for junior prom. I told him no, and he said, ‘Ladies appreciate a smart dresser.’ So I told him I wasn’t going because everyone would freak out if I danced with my boyfriend.”
“What year was that?”
“Mac, it’s not polite to ask how old someone is.”
“Nineteen eighty-nine.” Bryan grinned at me. To my surprise, he also gave me a short, chaste kiss. “I think the hair gives me away as being a child of the seventies.”
“Besides, Dad, I know how old you are. No offense, Bryan, but I didn’t think you were far behind.”
“No offense taken. I’m surprised you didn’t think I was older.”
Mac shrugged, and we reached the front of the line. “Could’ve gone either way, really.”
Bryan laughed. He sounded so relaxed and happy, all my doubts from the past two weeks melted away. Mac ran ahead to the first booths and we hung back a little.
“It’s good to see you. Get your project finished?”
His smile, already bright, turned up a few hundred watts.
“Not yet, but it’s getting close. Sorry I had to put you off so long. I really didn’t want to.”
After another chaste kiss, we ambled closer to the row of booths where Mac was spinning a prize wheel and laughing with a group of kids who looked to be her age. Mac had always been a butterfly, like her mom—everyone was her friend. I couldn’t help but worry, though, now that she was at least partially out. It wasn’t a surprise—well, maybe the gender thing—but still…
“When you told your dad you had a boyfriend, what did he do?”
“Yelled. A lot.” Bryan winced, but when he leaned against my side, he still seemed relaxed. “Especially after I told him I was bi. He tried to convince me I’d be much happier if I found a nice girl. I wished I had a sibling then, to take some of the pressure off me. The rest of the time I lived at home I was under a microscope.”
“Must not have been fun.”
He shrugged and then rubbed his arm against my side and sighed. “I missed you.”
I stopped and turned him to face me. “I missed you too. I have Mac until six. After that, how about we go dancing?”
He laughed and rested both hands on my hips. “I’m not much of a dancer.”
“I don’t care.” I leaned in to whisper in his ear, and he shivered. “I want to rub against you for a couple of hours and then go somewhere and get naked.”
“Mac’s coming.”
I pulled away and frowned.
“I’m in.” He winked, and it was all I could do not to swoon.
The three of us walked up and down each aisle checking out the booths while commenting on everything and everyone, and I restrained myself admirably. Not one word of anti-capitalist or anti-assimilationist rhetoric crossed my lips in three whole hours. Finally, Mac turned to me and squinted.
“Who are you and what have you done with my dad?”
For the first time since he’d arrived, I released Bryan. My side felt cold, even though the day was a balmy seventy-nine degrees.
“I’m being nice, so shush.”
“Don’t shush me. Don’t you think Bryan deserves to know what he’s gotten himself into?”
I said “no” at the same time he said “doesn’t matter.”
“Ugh. You two are giving me cavities. Speaking of food, I saw a Mexican place near the stage. Let’s go.”
The crowd had grown steadily thicker as morning turned to afternoon. We had to walk faster to keep Mac in view, so that cut down on our conversation. Sort of.
“What did she mean?”
I grunted. “Pride has gotten so commercial. It’s like Queer Christmas now. Or maybe Black Friday with rainbows. But my anti-assimilationist leanings are only half serious.”
“Really? So if mine are fully serious, will that be a problem?”
“Nope. I don’t care if you’re a flaming capitalist.” I pulled him closer for a kiss, and he made a nice yummy noise.
We caught up with Mac, standing at the end of the line for Mexican food, and I excused myself to the porta-johns. Val’s voice in my head wasn’t pleased, but I wanted Mac and Bryan to start creating a relationship that didn’t completely rely on me being in the same room. The closer they got, the better it would be for me and my long-term hopes where Bryan was concerned. Besides, I needed a john—porta or otherwise.
The lines weren’t long, and when I returned to the food line, only two people stood behind Mac and Bryan. They were deep in conversation—Mac and Bryan, not the couple between them and me, those two guys were having a spat, currently in the “silent treatment and hairy eyeball” stage.
So I did the sensible thing. I eavesdropped on my daughter and my boyfr—on the man I was seeing.
“I’m glad you and Dad are together. He’s needed a good man who won’t flake on him for a while.”
“Really? You don’t hope he and your mom will get together?”
“No. I did, when I was little. But it’s not practical. They’re best friends, but there’s no spark. Nobody should settle for life without the spark, y’know? Those two have no fire, no magic.”
Jeez, kid, enough already.
“Very insightful.”
“You mean, ‘for a kid my age.’”
“No. Not really. I mean, you do seem older than…”
&nbs
p; “Fifteen.”
“Wow, yes. Very insightful for a kid your age.”
Bryan grinned, and Mac shook her head. At least she was smiling.
“But you’re uncomfortable talking about your relationship with my dad with me.”
“Not exactly.”
Mac laughed, but politely, which was as surprising as it was gratifying.
“I mean, not only with you.”
“You’re not closeted in general, are you?”
“No. It’s not that. It’s been a long time since I’ve been serious about anyone, and that last time…didn’t work out well.”
Something in his voice when he mentioned his last relationship got my attention. Just like the last time it came up, he became guarded, maybe even fearful. Maybe we should talk about it. Sometime.
“Cool. Shows you have great taste that you’re serious about my dad. He’s cool. And he digs you.”
“Oh. I mean…great.”
They had reached the front of the line, but I didn’t think Bryan noticed. When Mac raised her hand to point to something, he flinched and took a step away from her. I couldn’t see his face, but his ear turned red. Luckily, Mac didn’t seem to notice. She went ahead and gave the pretty boy behind the counter her order.
I should probably have been at least a little ashamed, eavesdropping on my kid and my…the man I was dating. But I wasn’t. I wished she would have asked what he did for a living, though. That I was ashamed of. If I wanted to know—and I did—I should ask. But then I’d have to tell Bryan—sweet, smart, sexy Bryan—my day job involved the electronic equivalent of pushing paper from one stack into another while I facilitated orders for overpriced flying toys modeled after weapons. In other words, things people didn’t need. A drone butler? Seriously?
My feelings about the products I helped to sell didn’t change the facts of my life: I was a high school dropout making pennies over minimum wage to keep Mac on my insurance. That I also worked for a crazy-man who thought other companies—other people—had ripped-off his IP made it even less likely I’d be the one to start that conversation. What if Bry recognized the name?
Nope. If he didn’t want to talk about work, that was fine by me. We had a surprising number of things in common: music, books, movies, comics, sex. I could argue those things were more important than what either of us did for a living, but I’d only be arguing with myself.
Always Forward- Never Straight Page 5