The Letter Z

by Marie Sexton

  I have to shrug. “Don’t even know what there is to do,” I say.

  We all look over at Matt, and he shrugs too. “The times I was here before, my friends and I spent all of our time gambling or going to strip clubs.”

  “Are you serious?” I ask.

  “Of course. What else would you come to Vegas for?”

  I shake my head and say jokingly, “You disgust me, Matt.”

  He gives me that half-ass smile he uses instead of a real one, with one eyebrow up, and says, “What’s wrong with gambling?” and I have to laugh.

  “I never gamble when I’m here,” Zach says. “I can’t afford to.”

  “I don’t gamble either,” Jared says.

  “You guys know why Jared doesn’t gamble, right?” Matt says to Zach and me. “It’s because he can’t cheat in Vegas.”

  Jared just smiles and doesn’t say a word.

  We get out onto the Strip and start walkin’. First intersection, there’s a bunch of guys handin’ out little cards. One of them shoves one in front of me, and I hear Zach say, “You don’t want that,” but it’s too late. I already grabbed it, and when I turn it over, I ’bout drop it again.

  “What the fuck?” I ask. “They can’t hand out pictures of naked chicks!”

  “Apparently,” Jared says to me, “they can.”

  I hand it to Matt. “Think they meant to give this to you,” I say, and he just laughs.

  They decide we’re goin’ to New York, New York for dinner. Jared wants a hot dog. Zach and Matt give him a hard time ’bout comin’ all the way to Vegas just to get a fuckin’ hot dog, but he’s made up his mind. I could care less where we go or what we eat. It’s all new to me. I’m so busy lookin’ ’round I’m not watchin’ where I’m goin’. I keep bumpin’ into people, and I’ve totally lost track of whatever the others are talkin’ ’bout. I know they’re laughin’ at me a little. At this point, I don’t even care. In the end, I grab onto the back of Zach’s jacket and just trail along behind him like a little kid, with my eyes huge and unbelieving.

  “Is that a roller coaster?” I ask when we get to New York, New York. I don’t get a chance to ride roller coasters very often, but I fuckin’ love ’em. “Can we ride it?” I ask.

  “Hell, yes!” Jared says, but Zach looks skeptical.

  “We better do that before we eat,” he says, and he already looks a little bit green. So we ride the roller coaster first. I ’bout have a coronary when I see how much it costs, but we do it anyway. Twice. Then we have dinner and a couple of drinks.

  “What now?” Jared asks.

  “The Bellagio,” Zach says, lookin’ at me. “Now that it’s dark, I want Ang to see the fountains.”

  I got no clue what fountains he’s talkin’ ’bout or how they can be that interesting, ’specially in the dark. But I follow ’em back north and we stop at The Bellagio. There’s a little manmade lake in front of it and they all stop and lean against the stone railing there, just starin’ at that stupid lake. I try to see what’s so great ’bout it. I mean, yeah, the hotel is kinda cool, but I’m thinkin’ the one behind us with the Eiffel Tower stickin’ up out of it looks more interestin’. And I’m wonderin’ if the fountain he’s talkin’ ’bout is inside or what.

  Like he’s readin’ my mind Zach says, “Just wait.”

  So I wait.

  Shoulda known Zach knew what he was talkin’ ’bout.

  The fountains start, and I’m in awe. It’s that stupid song out of Titanic, and I always thought it was cheesy before. Kinda hate to admit that those fountains might make me change my mind. But there’s jets of water with lights in ’em, and it’s like they’re dancin’. Don’t know how somethin’ so simple can be so beautiful, but it is. Even after it ends, I’m just starin’ at that lake. I turn to find Zach smilin’ down at me.

  “This is my favorite part of Vegas,” I say.

  “It’s the only thing you’ve seen.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I tell him. “It’s still my favorite part.”

  Eventually we get back to the room. I strip down to my boxers and T-shirt and lay down on one of the beds. The others all slept on the drive over, but I didn’t. I’m exhausted.

  At home, I still fall asleep in my own bed most nights. That’s why Zach asked for two beds. He was tryin’ to make sure I still had space if I needed it. Bedtime is when that stupid bird in my chest acts up the most.

  At some point in the night I always wake up and wander into Zach’s room, like a little kid crawlin’ into his parents’ bed when he’s scared. Half the time I don’t even remember doin’ it. Sometimes, I come home late from my job at the grocery store so tired I don’t even get undressed. I just fall down on my bed and fall asleep fully clothed. Then I wake up after a bit and leave a trail of clothes down the hallway from my bed to his. He always wakes up enough to pull me against him. He fits against me just right. We usually drift off again for a while. An hour or two later I might wake him up by pushin’ back against his groin, or goin’ down on him. Or he might wake me up as he pushes me onto my stomach and pushes into me. However it happens, it’s my favorite part of the day. We make love almost every morning.

  I’m layin’ there, half-asleep. Zach turns on the TV, sits on the foot of my bed and starts to rub my feet. That’s another thing nobody’d ever done for me before Zach, and I’d had no idea how good it could feel. If my eyes weren’t closed already, they’d be rollin’ back in my head. He massages the right one, then the left while he watches TV. Then he trails his fingers from my toes up to my knees. A second later I feel his lips brushin’ the inside of my ankle. I don’t open my eyes, but I smile.

  “What’re you doin’?” I ask.

  “I think I love your feet,” he says quietly, and I have to laugh.

  “You’re so weird.”

  “Maybe, angel. But not for this.”

  He kisses my ankle again and starts to work his way up. He’s almost reached my knee by the time I fall asleep.

  Matt…

  AS USUAL, I woke up before Jared. And as usual, I woke to find myself hugging the edge of the mattress, while he lay sprawled naked on his stomach in the middle of it, taking up most of the bed.

  In his defense, I had all of the covers.

  His head was turned away from me. His skin was pale gold, lightly freckled on his arms and shoulders. His body was hard and lean and absolutely amazing. I debated letting him sleep—but only for a moment.

  Jared and I didn’t fuck very often. It still made me a little uncomfortable, especially when I topped. In fact, he hadn’t bottomed since that night on our living room floor, just before Christmas, more than a year before. It wasn’t that I hadn’t enjoyed fucking Jared—of course I had—but afterward I felt bad about it. It felt wrong to me. Jared was strong and hard and masculine in my mind. He was smaller than me, but he was tough as hell, and he could kick my ass on any mountain biking trail. Somehow, having him bottom made me feel like I had used him, or shamed him. I knew he didn’t understand, but he let it go. We fooled around a lot, and when he asked, I would bottom for him. But generally, it wasn’t something we worried about. There were plenty of other ways for us to get each other off.

  I maneuvered past his outstretched arm and leg. I kissed his shoulder, and the tattoo between his shoulder blades. I ran my hand down his back and between his legs. He stirred a little, enough to roll onto his side with his back toward me.

  “You awake?” I whispered.

  “Mmmmmm,” was the only response I got. He teased me all the time that “you awake?” was my idea of foreplay. Jared wasn’t exactly a morning person, even when it came to sex.

  I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him tighter against me. I wedged my erect cock into that warm crease between the globes of his ass and his legs. I loved the friction of thrusting between his thick, muscular thighs. He settled back into my arms with a sigh as I pushed against him. I ran one hand down his stomach. He didn’t move, but moaned quietly when my hand foun
d his morning erection. I started to stroke him slowly while thrusting between his legs. He pushed back against me and put one of his hands on top of mine, urging me to go faster. I buried my face in his mess of curls. Even now, his hair smelled like the Colorado wind. My lips found his shoulder. I started out kissing him, but it wasn’t long before it turned into something more aggressive, and I heard him moan again in response. I kept stroking him as my own thrusts sped up.

  He came first, but I wasn’t far behind him. I held him for a minute, kissing his shoulders and the back of his neck.

  “No,” he sighed sleepily.

  “No, what?” I asked.

  “No, I’m not awake.”

  I laughed and got out of bed. He pulled the covers over himself and nestled down into them. “You’re going to stick to the sheets,” I teased. He didn’t answer, and he was sound asleep again before I even made it back with a towel for him to wipe off with.

  I took a shower and called Angelo. I knew Zach would sleep late, and Ang would be awake and chomping at the bit to get out of the hotel.

  We met at the elevator and found coffee, then I took him to one of the cheaper casinos. We played a little bit of blackjack, and I taught him how to play craps. He finished with an extra thirty-five bucks and decided that was good.

  We were just finishing breakfast when Jared and Zach called. We met up with them and decided to walk over to Caesar’s and fool around there until it was time for lunch. Jared and I fell into step behind Zach and Angelo. Zach had his arm around Angelo’s shoulder, and Ang had his hand in Zach’s back pocket, and any time Zach said something to Ang, he would lean down and say it into Angelo’s hair. Angelo would smile up at him, and sometimes Zach would even kiss him. It was a level of intimacy that Jared and I rarely displayed in public. Even in Vegas, some people were turning around to watch them pass. The distance between them and us seemed to grow as we walked. Without even meaning to, Jared and I were distancing ourselves from them. I wasn’t sure if it was him causing it, or me.

  “They don’t care at all, do they?” I asked.

  “Zach doesn’t even think about it,” Jared said. “You know how he is.

  He probably doesn’t even realize people are looking at him. Angelo knows, but you’re right—he doesn’t care.”

  “Does it bother you?”

  “That they’re like that?”

  “That I’m not.”

  He looked over at me with a smile. “No. Not a bit.”

  Once we got into the Forum Shoppes at Caesar’s, we ended up switching places. Somehow, I ended up walking with Zach. Jared and Angelo were a couple of steps ahead of us. I was watching the crowd around us, looking for men with other men.

  “What are you doing?” Zach asked me.

  “Trying to pick out other couples,” I said, feeling embarrassed. “I never used to think about it, but now, every time I see two men together, I wonder if they’re together.” I could tell he thought that was funny. “Don’t you wonder?” I asked him.

  He shrugged. “I don’t pay attention.” Which, if I had taken the time to think about it, I probably would have known. Zach didn’t really pay attention to much that went on around him.

  “What are you trying to judge by?” Jared asked, obviously amused.

  “Clothes.”

  “You think that’s all it takes?” Angelo asked.

  “Well, I think my basis for comparison might be skewed. I tend to think any guy dressed better than Jared is gay.”

  Angelo gave me his lopsided smirk. “That’s half the guys in Vegas, includin’ Zach.”

  “Yeah, but Zach is gay,” I said.

  “Right,” Ang said, “but like those two guys,” he gestured toward two men wearing suits, “they’re dressed better than any of us, and they’re straight.”

  “They’re wearing name badges,” I said.

  “So?”

  “They’re here for a conference. They have to wear those suits, so that doesn’t count.”

  “Okay, genius, then what you basin’ it on?”

  I shrugged, looking over at Zach for help.

  “Shoes,” Zach said.

  “Coats,” I said.

  “Hats,” Zach added.

  Jared and Angelo looked at each other in amusement but didn’t say anything. We kept walking and after a minute, Angelo nodded toward a man walking past us with a funny lopsided hat on his head. “So you probably think that guy’s queer just ’cause of his hat?” he asked.

  Zach and I looked at the guy and both of us nodded. “No way does any straight guy wear a hat like that in public,” I said.

  Jared shook his head. “I think he was just European.”

  Zach and I looked at each other again, and Zach laughed. “So a nice coat or a funny hat means either gay, or European?” he asked.

  “Yeah man,” Angelo said sarcastically. “Which makes all four of us straight as fuckin’ rulers. Who’s ready to hit the strip clubs with me?”

  I actually wouldn’t have objected to a strip club, but I knew Ang was joking, and Jared and Zach probably weren’t interested, so I kept my mouth shut.

  “What about those two?” I asked, gesturing toward two more men walking together. “Gay, or European?”

  Zach watched them walk past, then said, “European.”

  “Gay,” Angelo and Jared said in unison.

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  Angelo and Jared looked at each other, trying to decide who would answer. It ended up being Jared. “They were each carrying more than three shopping bags,” he said, “and not one of them was from Victoria’s Secret.”

  “Maybe they were buying gifts for their moms,” I said.

  Jared laughed. “Yeah, right. How often do you do that?”

  He had a point there, so I didn’t answer.

  “Okay,” Zach said a minute later. He gestured at two more men who were walking past us. “Gay, or European?”

  “Gay,” I said.

  “European,” Angelo said to me over his shoulder.

  “How do you know?”

  “They were speakin’ French!”

  “Okay,” Zach said to me, smiling. “I suppose that should have tipped us off.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to have some kind of sixth sense for this?” I asked him.

  Angelo snorted. “Zach’s gaydar sucks,” he said, before Zach had a chance to answer. “Worked with him for two weeks ’fore he figured out I was queer.”

  That didn’t surprise me, but Jared obviously found it funny. “Are you serious?” he asked, glancing back at Zach.

  “How was I supposed to know?” Zach asked.

  “I didn’t know either,” I said in Zach’s defense. Jared and Angelo glanced knowingly at each other and didn’t answer us. “Not until halfway through that first day at Folk Fest.”

  “Yeah,” Angelo said over his shoulder. “That’s different.”

  “So how did you know?” Zach asked Angelo.

  Angelo looked back at him in surprise. “What, ’bout you bein’ queer?”

  “Yeah.”

  Angelo’s eyebrows went up. “You’re jokin’, right?” He looked again at Jared, and they both laughed.

  Zach slowed down, and I slowed down with him so that Ang and Jared pulled ahead of us a few steps. “I’m trying to decide if I should be offended,” Zach said, low enough that only I heard him. I wasn’t sure what to tell him. Angelo and Jared were still walking. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they were both laughing, and I was pretty sure it was at us. On the bright side, they had at least found some basis for solidarity between them.

  Zach walked along in silence next to me, looking at the floor.

  Angelo and Jared were slowly pulling out even further ahead of us.

  Angelo was still wide-eyed at everything he saw. I couldn’t hear him, but I could tell he was talking a mile a minute, and Jared obviously found it entertaining. “What about that guy?” I said to Zach, trying to cheer him up. I nodded
toward a man walking past us. He was our age, and dressed nice, wearing slacks and one of those old-fashioned looking wool coats with the double row of buttons. “Gay, or European?” I asked.

  Zach looked over at the guy, just as he looked at us, and to my surprise, they both stopped dead in their tracks.

  “Jonathan,” Zach said.

  Of course I had been expecting him to say “gay” or “European”, so I was a little confused. “What?” I asked stupidly.

  “It’s Jonathan,” Zach said.

  “Zach? ” the guy with the fancy coat said in pleasant surprise. “Is that you?” He walked over to us, beaming. Zach looked like a deer caught in the headlights; he obviously couldn’t run, but couldn’t seem to get his shit together enough to answer either. It didn’t matter. The guy—Jonathan, apparently—was still talking. “Oh my God, Zach, it’s been years.” He started to put his hand out, like he was going to shake Zach’s hand, but then at the last second he seemed to change his mind, and he grabbed Zach and hugged him. Zach was stiff in his arms, still looking shell-shocked. “I was thinking about you just the other day, Zach. It’s so good to see you.”

  He stepped back a bit, but still hanging on to Zach. “You look great,” he said sincerely. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

  “Yeah, you too,” Zach managed to choke out. And then he stopped short, obviously unsure of what to say next.

  Jonathan apparently wasn’t surprised or offended by Zach’s behavior. He let go of Zach and turned to me with his hand out. “Hi, I’m Jonathan.”

  “Matt,” I said, shaking his hand.

  “Nice to meet you.” He glanced between Zach and I, and I knew what was coming. “Are you—?”

  “No,” Zach and I said in unison, and Jonathan’s smile got bigger.

  “What are you doing in Vegas?” he asked Zach.

  “Ummm…” Zach stuttered and looked over at me for help.

  “Just being tourists,” I said, since Zach was apparently incapable of formulating a response.

  “That’s great!” Jonathan said, turning back to Zach. “We should get together. I’d love to catch up.”