by Andrew Grey
David snickered as they reached the exit door and were about to go outside. “Oh, stop it. Your uncle smoked like a fish for most of his life and he drank—ouch.” He moved away from Chippy. “Don’t elbow me.”
“Then keep your mouth shut.” Chippy rolled his eyes.
Obie shook his head slowly at both of them. “If there was a vice possible, my uncle became a connoisseur. He smokes like a chimney, drinks like a fish, and screws like a mink, with everyone he isn’t married to. I saw him three years ago, and I know he’s living in Vegas now. Mom hasn’t had anything to do with him in years, but he’d show up like a bad penny every once in a while, trying to get her to help him out.” Obie stumbled over a loose mat edge as they stepped outside. Bri grabbed him, and Obie regained his balance. “Sorry about that. As I was saying, Mom and Dad are great, but I wasn’t particularly lucky in the extended family department. Especially since everyone says I look like my uncle. It’s like my parents had no genetic input.” He didn’t want to talk about this, but now that it had been brought up…. “You’d like my mom and dad, and I’d bet they’d love to meet you sometime. But as for the rest of my family….” He sighed. “It’s best if you don’t dip too heavily in that gene pool.”
“At least your dad is hot,” Chippy chimed in.
“Yeah, way hot,” David added his two cents. “For an older guy, I’d do him.”
Obie coughed loudly as Chippy again smacked David on the back of the head. “Way too much information.”
David rubbed the back of his head. “I was only being honest.”
“Guys,” Bri interrupted. “Ever heard of TMI—too much information?” They’d obviously had one too many beers during the game and it was loosening their tongues more than usual. Thankfully, they grew quiet, and Obie was able to walk the rest of the way with Bri to the parking area in relative peace.
“We should call it a night and get these two home.” Obie looked over his shoulder and found David and Chippy already on their way to the car a few rows back. He turned to Bri, shifting his weight on his feet. “Thank you for everything. It was a great night.” He still wasn’t sure if this was a date, and under different circumstances, he would have kissed Bri good night. He wasn’t used to this kind of uncertainty. Was Bri even interested in him? He sure acted like it, and the guys thought so too. Chippy and David were many things, but their gaydar was almost perfect.
“Are you okay to get to the car?” Bri asked. He didn’t turn away and his gaze met Obie’s in a rush of heat, but he didn’t come any closer. Some sort of sign would be good, but whatever Bri was thinking, he wasn’t giving anything away.
“For God’s sake, just kiss him,” David shouted across the cars.
Obie rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry about that.” It was definitely time to go after that bit of embarrassment. “I’ll get those two home before they embarrass the entire city of Philadelphia. Be sure to rest your leg, and I’ll see you on Tuesday.” He turned and headed for David’s car. A row over, he turned back and saw Bri watching him. Obie waved, and Bri returned it. Then he picked up the pace and reached the car. “Not a single word from either of you or, I swear to God, I’ll make you both walk home.” He glared at each of them before unlocking the car.
Thankfully, both of the guys took him at his word, and neither of them said a thing as he started the engine and drove through the city.
“Can we talk now?” David asked, the first to crack. “You should have just kissed him. He wanted you to, I could tell. He had that desperate look in his eyes like he wanted it, but didn’t know how to go about getting it. If anyone is going to make the first move, it’ll have to be you.”
“Then there won’t be any moves made. He’s a client and a friend. There is such a thing as ethics, you know.”
“There’s also such a thing as hiding behind all that stuff to keep from putting yourself out there. He’s an amazing guy, and I don’t get the feeling like he’s just out to get into your pants. If he was, he’d be all pushy and in your face. He isn’t. This is a quality guy.”
Obie pulled to a stop at a light just before getting on the freeway. “You don’t even know if he’s gay.”
“He is. Without a doubt. No one can look at another guy the way he looked at you and not be gay,” Chippy chimed in from where he was splayed out in the back seat, his eyes closed. “That man wants you.” He hiccupped.
“Great, just what I needed. Advice to the lovelorn from Miller and Bud, matchmakers.” His friends had definitely had more to drink than they should have, but they were having fun. And since he was driving, there was no harm in it.
“Pick all you want, but it’s true. I saw it too. And I really think Bri is gay. He was at the club that night, and he keeps looking at you like you’re an all-you-can-eat buffet and he’s starving. Also, he was as close to kissing you as you were to kissing him. So next time you get the chance, do it and see what happens. Who knows? It may be complete dullsville, and if that’s the case, you can walk away and laugh it off. But—”
“There is no but,” Obie broke in.
“Oh, there was a butt,” Chippy slurred. “I got a look at it as he was leaving. And man oh man, I could get down and pray to a butt like that.” He groaned slightly as Obie slowed down with traffic.
“If you got down on your knees with him, it wouldn’t be to pray, I can tell you that,” David retorted as he leaned into the back seat. “And yes, I agree.” He sat facing forward again. “That was definitely a world-class butt. You should take a few seconds to get a handful of it when you do finally get a lip-lock on Bri.”
Obie growled under his breath. “That’s enough, guys. There aren’t going to be any kisses or lip-locks. He’s a friend and a client and that’s all there is to it.”
Chippy snorted. “I think he doth protest too much.”
“Oh for God’s sake,” Obie groaned.
Chippy chuckled as though he’d won some kind of prize, and then after a minute the sound changed to soft snores. The alcohol must have finally kicked in for both of them, because the car grew quiet. Obie had never been so thankful for two sleeping drunks in his life. Now he could worry about them instead of having thoughts of Bri, his lips, and, thanks to them, his butt, running around his head for the rest of the evening.
Chapter 5
BRI SAT behind the wheel of his car in the damned parking lot berating himself for being such a damned coward. The guys were right—he had been about ready to kiss Obie, but had backed off out of fear. What if one of the guys on the team saw him? What if Obie hadn’t wanted him to? Bri had invited Obie to the game as a friend, and he had intended for things to remain that way. And they had in the end, but partway through the game, Bri had found watching Obie much more fascinating than the play on the court. He was an all-in kind of guy. When Obie was excited, he was out of his seat, pumping his arms, bouncing on his feet. A successful basket was an excuse for unbridled joy. It had been a long time since he’d felt that way—about anything. Bri loved his job. He got paid to play the game he’d enjoyed for most of his life, but over time things had become ordinary. Baskets were a means to an end, rather than a joy to make each and every time. His head was on passing and moving the ball, getting past opposing players, throwing them off—not just playing and having fun. Tonight, he’d watched Obie and remembered why he’d chosen to play ball for a living. Obie’s energy had been infectious.
“Shit.” Bri leaned his head on the steering wheel. He wanted that kind of energy in his life.
He jumped at a tap on the window. Catching his breath, he lowered it. “Hey, Ron,” he said to one of his teammates who’d come up to his car and was looking in at him in concern.
“You okay? The lot is emptying, and I saw you just sitting there.” Ron leaned down with a smile. “The knee doing okay?”
“Yeah. It gets sore sometimes, but I’m healing. I’ll be ready for the start of the preseason in a few months. Working hard to get it strong again.”
Ron nod
ded and backed away. “That’s good to hear. Good to hear. We’re all rooting for you.” Ron’s expression told him everything. The team, the fans—everyone was behind him, and he needed to come back as strong as he’d been before he got hurt, so he didn’t let everyone down. That meant he had to get his head in the game. He couldn’t let it wander—no matter how cute a certain therapist was, or how amazing he looked in those damned tight jeans. “You have a good night and let us know if there’s anything we can do,” Ron added. “You know we’re on your side.”
He half saluted, and Bri started the car, waving as he pulled out of the lot. He got partway home before the words Ron had used sank into his head. They were on his side… about what? It probably didn’t mean anything. But it got him wondering.
Bri instructed the car to dial the phone. “Hey, Dad,” he said when his father answered.
“How was the game?” his dad asked. He was probably in bed reading and would be for hours yet. “I hope you had fun with your friends.”
“I did. It was fun. I invited Obie, the physical therapist I told you about. He had a great time and even made his free throw shot and won an autographed ball.” Bri couldn’t help smiling as he slipped into freeway traffic. There was nothing fun about the Schuylkill, but thinking about Obie did that to him.
“That’s pretty cool,” his dad said, and Bri heard him shuffling around a little.
“He gave the ball to one of the kids,” Bri said, and waited for his father’s assessment. His dad had spent most of the last forty years or so as a psychology professor at St. Joseph’s, and Bri knew everything went through his human-reaction computational brain. He couldn’t wait to hear what his dad thought of Obie’s behavior.
“He sounds like a person you’ll want to stay friends with—” He could almost see his dad smiling at the other end of the line. “—unless he did it for attention.”
“No. He just wanted to make a little girl happy. Besides, I can get Obie as many signed balls as he wants. It was a truly kind act.” He braked as the taillights ahead of him lit up. “He was embarrassed about it. The whole thing was caught on the JumboTron, and he tried to hide when he saw it.”
“He sounds like the kind of person who isn’t going to take advantage of you. At least I’d give him the benefit of the doubt in that department. Who were your other friends?”
“A couple of guys I met with Obie the other night. They’re a little out there, but harmless enough. They don’t want anything from anyone except a good time.” Bri chuckled. “They’re all unabashedly gay, Dad. As in, out there unapologetically, makeup-and-glitter-wearing gay.” He’d told his father about his own feelings many years earlier. In fact, Bri’s habit of keeping quiet about his sexuality had been the subject of a number of conversations between him and his father. He had to give his dad a lot of credit—he could have tried to impose his own ideas on Bri, but he never did.
“You know my feelings on being true to yourself, and I think it’s a good idea to have friends that you can talk with about that part of your life.” Bri continued the stop-and-go in traffic, nodding his agreement but not interrupting. “As for what others will think, my suggestion is to tell them to go screw themselves.” Bri loved his dad.
Bri sighed. “The thing is… I’ve been getting these phone calls. They’re cranks, but the caller keeps telling me that I’m a disgrace to the game and things like that. The first couple I shrugged off, but I’m getting them more and more often. I got one yesterday and then another today.” He jammed on the brakes as the car ahead of him came to a sudden stop. “I’m starting to get concerned.”
“It sounds like something you should be taking seriously. Come over for lunch tomorrow. Renelda is making her famous carbonara, and you can tell me what’s going on.” His dad sounded as though he was wearing out for the night, and Bri didn’t want to keep him up if he truly thought he could sleep. His dad suffered from severe insomnia, so sleep was a rare commodity sometimes. “Bring this friend of yours, if he’d like to come. It would be nice to talk with someone new.” He ended the call, and Bri reached his exit and turned off the freeway, heading out across city streets to his house, pulling into the garage.
He fumbled with his crutches a little, but got out of the car and into the house, locking everything up as he went. His phone chimed as he closed and locked the back door of the early twentieth-century house. Thank you for a great night. It was amazing. See you soon.
You’re welcome, Obie, he typed and held his fingers over the keyboard of the phone. I’m going to have lunch with my parents tomorrow. Want to come? He looked at the message more than once and nearly deleted the last part three times before closing his eyes and pressing Send. He watched the screen for a response, and when one didn’t come immediately, he figured Obie was trying to think of a way to turn him down.
Sounds like fun. What should I bring?
He let out a sigh of relief.
I’ll pick you up at eleven thirty. Dad loves dessert, but doesn’t get it very often. He sent the message, and Obie responded with a smiley face, which he took to mean everything was good to go. His knee ached and he’d already spent enough time on it, so he labored up the stairs, going right to the master bath and running a tub of water. After getting undressed and out of the brace, he sighed as he carefully lowered himself in the tub and turned on the whirlpool jets. Now that was heaven—at least until the water cooled.
BRI CHECKED the time—again—late the following morning, before leaving to head to Obie’s. The drive on a Sunday morning was very easy, and he pulled around back to his usual place, where Obie was waiting for him with a plasticware cake container. “Don’t tell me you baked that yourself?”
“It’s a chocolate pie, and I already had the shell, so I just made the rest.” He smiled as he got in, balancing the container on his lap. “I hope it’s something your dad will like. You didn’t give me much to go on last night.”
“Dad adores chocolate. Mom and Renelda are probably going to pitch a fit, but that’s fine. It’s good for them and for Dad to get some of what he doesn’t have often.” Bri backed out of the space and headed west, along the main line to the house in Bala Cynwyd.
“Who’s Renelda?” Obie asked.
“She’s… well, it’s hard to say exactly. She’s my mother housekeeper and has been with the family for years. She also helps take care of my dad. He has ALS, so he’s confined to a wheelchair and, unfortunately, has less and less physical mobility each year. He says it’s like being slowly sunk in quicksand and never being able to get out. His mind is still as sharp as always, though. He’s a highly regarded professor and used to get asked to travel all over the country as a guest lecturer and speaker.”
“I see. And your mother?”
“The power behind the throne, if you will. She and Renelda have done wonders to keep Dad comfortable and as healthy as possible. He’s still able to work a fairly full schedule, but that’s because they handle the everyday things so he can do what he truly loves.” He pulled to a stop and looked over at Obie. “I hope I haven’t scared you off.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Dad is….” Bri paused a second. “He’s always assessing people, and sometimes he can be incredibly intimidating. When I was growing up, a lot of my friends were scared to meet him. They were afraid he could read their minds or something. But Dad asked to meet you. In fact, it was his suggestion that I invite you to come with me.”
Obie sat back, his hands clutching the container. “So… is this some kind of test or something?”
“God, no.” Bri had to do a little backpedaling. “I was talking to him last night after the game and I told him about you. He said he wanted to meet you and asked if I’d invite you to come along. Dad finds people who do the unexpected interesting. And the whole thing last night with the basketball was definitely unexpected. Just be yourself.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Obie said.
“Don’t worry. The chocolat
e pie will go a long way in winning him over.” Bri smiled.
“And it will piss off your mother at the same time.” Obie huffed.
Bri chuckled. “Nope. Mom adores chocolate. Just ignore the way she chastises my father for wanting a large piece, because she’ll be in seventh heaven herself.” Bri winked. “Believe me, it’s a great choice.” He turned off the road and onto a long circular driveway up to a Tudor-style house with a manicured lawn and neat formal hedges.
“This is stunning. Who is the gardener in the family?”
“My dad. He designed and planted the entire property when I was a kid. Mom now uses a garden service to keep it just the way Dad likes it. Whenever they show up, he rolls out in his chair and tells them exactly what he wants done. It’s his passion, and I know he wishes he could get down on the ground and dig in the dirt again.” More than anything, Bri wished his dad could do that too.
“Has your father lost any movement in his hands and arms?” Obie asked with what sounded to Bri like genuine concern.
“Some. He can’t do incredibly detailed work, but he still types, albeit slowly. Why?”
“You could have someone make your dad some raised beds that are the same height as his chair. Then he could wheel himself next to them and plant and care for the gardens himself. They don’t need to be big. In fact, you could make them about four feet long, but only a foot wide. He could fill them with flowers or vegetables. Whatever he wanted.” Obie turned to him, and Bri felt his chin nearly hit the steering wheel as he pulled to a stop. Why in the hell hadn’t he thought of that?
“Now I know what I’m going to get him for Father’s Day. I could make them portable, so they could be moved once he was done and placed where he can water and care for them.” Without thinking, Bri took Obie’s hand, squeezing it. “That is an amazing idea.”