by Gerry Pirani
Desperate In Sheridan
by Gerry Pirani
Copyright 2015 Gerry Pirani
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information retrieval storage system without the written permission of the author. If you enjoy this ebook, please encourage your friends to download their own copy. Thank you.
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events in this book are born from and occur in the writer's imagination. Real places are used fictitiously. Any similarities to real events or people are entirely coincidental.
For more information on the body of work by Gerry Pirani, see https://www.gerrypirani.com.
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Jimmy’s driveway was shaped like a crescent moon, and he came roaring out the front door as soon as Brad pulled in. His smile put Brad’s worries to rest for a moment.
For the first time since the funeral several years ago, Brad had driven across the vast expanse of nothingness that was Wyoming. There had never been anything for him here–except for his best friend, Jimmy Boyd. And the only reason Brad had agreed to go to his ten-year high school reunion was that Jimmy had begged him to attend. No one in Wyoming knew anything real about his life in Chicago.
Sure, Jimmy always stayed in touch and even knew of Brad’s broken heart last year–but over Michelle, not Michael. Jimmy had been the toughest guy in school and the best friend Brad could ever ask for. He didn’t want to lose him. Not after all they’d been through together. But he had to tell Jimmy he was gay–or what friendship was he saving?
His childhood friend grabbed Brad and lifted him off the ground, planting a wet one on his cheek. The neatly shaved beard was a welcome reminder of home, but the whiskers scraped against Brad’s smooth face.
“Calm down. You’ll wake up your neighbors,” Brad said, reaching over and smacking Jimmy on the head just like old times. Jimmy was much taller than Brad, who was only five feet, nine inches. With his mousy brown hair and average build, Brad was someone who stood out as someone who wouldn’t stand out. He’d make a great extra in Hollywood. Over the years, though, he’d had enough guys tell him he was good looking that someday he planned to believe it.
“Come check out the digs. Whoop!” Jimmy yelled, his exuberance contagious.
The house was the standard subdivision type, brand spanking new with granite counters and a walk-in master closet. The bedrooms were upstairs, and the spare was modest but boasted all the necessities.
“Made the bed. And here are a bunch of towels. They're clean,” Jimmy said, handing him a round pile that clashed with the flannel shirt he was wearing.
Brad chuckled, impressed with his friend’s domestic side–and with his home. Despite his four years in financial planning, Brad had a one-bedroom apartment in Lincoln Park that was furnished with thrift store hand-me-downs.
He was supposed to help Jimmy get his finances in order this week. His friend had an inheritance to invest–but only because his life had been built on sequential traumas. Three years ago, his parents died in a small plane crash off the coast of Alaska. Eight years before that, his little sister died from leukemia–after a heroic fight–placing a shadow over the Boyd family for as long as Brad could remember. The last thing he wanted to do now was cause his friend any more pain.
“So, you're still seeing that girl, Nadine was it?” Brad asked.
“You mean Lanie? Yeah I am, in fact. What about you?”
“Me? No, no one, but before I lose my nerve, let's go back downstairs and talk.” If he put it off, Brad was bound to lose his nerve. Slow and steady wasn't going to win the race this time. It wasn't like he hadn't provided hints over the years, but they were apparently ones too subtle for his very transparent friend.
“Sure, buddy. You want some coffee or something? A beer?”
“At eleven o'clock in the morning, I think not,” Brad said, laughing. “I'll take the coffee.”
“What's going on?” Jimmy asked after handing him a mug and the pot of coffee he made.
“There's no easy way for me to tell you this–”
“Jesus Christ, you're dying!”
“No, no, no. Nothing like that.” Brad fidgeted and took a breath while Jimmy gained his composure. “I'm just gay,” he said, hoping it would come across bland compared to news of a terminal illness.
“You're what?”
“I’m gay,” Brad said, his eyes downcast and his fingers tightly wrapped around his mug. Worst-case scenario, he’d go into town and get a hotel room.
“When did you figure this out?” Jimmy asked.
“A long time ago. I've been wanting to tell you, but–”
“JESUS!” Jimmy yelped, his hands to both sides of his head. “Did that bitch Michelle turn you gay?”
Brad laughed. “No, Jimmy, people don’t turn gay. Michelle was actually a guy. I just didn’t feel ready to tell you.”
“Why was his name Michelle?”
“No, no, let’s just…forget about that.” Brad shook his head, amused.
“Man! Did you know when I set you up with Kerri that time after college?”
“Um, yeah.”
“What about when we were in college?”
“Yeah. I was sure by then.”
“Earlier? What about when we used to skinny dip in the lake?”
Brad cringed at the cross-examination. “Look, maybe I shouldn't have said anything. I've never been interested in you in that way.”
“Why? What’s wrong with me?” asked Jimmy, completely serious.
Brad shook his head and chuckled. “Nothing. I hope you’re okay with this. I just hated lying to you.”
“No, man, it's cool. I'm radically tolerant about stuff.” Jimmy waved his hand in a dismissive gesture about the whole disclosure.
“You are?” Brad asked. He had to laugh. “Since when?”
“Well, you know, people grow up. What do you think? I go around making fun of fags–ah–I mean gays?”
Brad winced. “Yeah, well, you did when we were kids.”
Jimmy shook his head. “Nah, my heart was never really in it. JESUS! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this.” Unsolicited, his friend started to make some breakfast for them.
“Listen, Jimmy, at the reunion, we can lay low about this. I wasn’t planning to announce it or anything.”
“What the hell, man? This is Wyoming, not the Dark Ages. Do what you want. You think I’m gonna care what a bunch of sissies think?” Jimmy started shoving eggs and bacon onto Brad’s plate.
“Sissies?” Brad raised his eyebrows. Everything seemed a little bit turned upside-down, but Jimmy was handling Brad’s declaration better than Brad had anticipated.
“Whatever. Aw, hell, I got to call Lanie. We were setting you up with someone tonight, a double date.”
Brad groaned.
Jimmy was quick to the phone. “Hey darlin’, Brad’s que–GAY, and we need to cancel that chick from the library…for tonight…uh huh…well, just tell her we have to cancel…Yeah, well, that’s fine. Not like he’s expecting a dating service while he’s here…yep, see you later…” Jimmy cleared his throat and mumbled, “Love you, too,” before he hung up.
Brad smiled at him.
“Shut up,” Jimmy ordered, catching a glimpse of a tease on Brad’s face. “Lanie’s all right. You’ll like her. So, all this time I’m thinking you’re a boob guy when in fact, NOT,” Jimmy said, sitting back down and shoving a fork gorged with pig fat into his
mouth. “So, what are you, the pitcher or the catcher?”
Brad nearly choked on his eggs. Isn't that something people his parents’ age would say? But Jimmy always did have a deficient filter between his head and his mouth. Brad was mostly used to it. “What?” he managed to eek out between coughs.
Jimmy pounded him on the back, then said, “You know…” giving him the hand gesture for intercourse.
“That’s really not appropriate,” Brad said in a huff.
“Okay, calm down, man,” Jimmy said, staring at him. “I didn’t mean to get you all worked up.”
“Fine. Let’s just drop it.” Brad felt his face flush. Why did people think it was okay to ask that kind of thing?
“I can still call you a dick-brain sometimes, though, right? It fits even more now,” Jimmy said, laughing uproariously.
“Great, it’s been about an hour, and we’ve already resorted to twelve year olds.”
“That’s the beauty in it, man, that’s the beauty,” said Jimmy. He looked sad for a moment.
After breakfast, Brad went to his room to search in his suitcase for the gift he brought for Jimmy, a framed photo of the two of them with Mr. and Mrs. Boyd when he and Jimmy were about fifteen. Where was the damn thing? He was sure he packed it. He came across a couple of condoms from his last trip–when he and Michael went to St. Thomas on a vacation getaway. His heart ached for an instant. He thought Michael was going to be his life partner–until he found the creep in bed with the adult video store clerk. It’s just recreational, Michael had said.
With the ensuing arguments and the time that had lapsed since the break-up, it had been about a year since Brad was intimate with anyone. He never did master the art of casual sex. It was definitely an art, Brad thought, without which it turned into a meaningless, self-emptying act. Jerking himself off was almost as satisfying, especially since Brad had good visualization skills. And it was far less risky.
Brad’s hand finally knocked against something solid. He’d wrapped the picture frame in a pair of soft, old jeans. When he went back downstairs, he found Jimmy in the den stacking some wood. “I have something for you,” Brad said, extending his hand.
“Gee, thanks. Oh. Nice,” Jimmy said without taking his eyes off the picture. He lifted his hand to his nose, like he was stifling a sniffle. “That was a fun time.” His voice was quieter than usual. He nodded his head and placed it on the mantle, moving some things around to make it center stage.
“We gonna be able to stay friends?” Jimmy asked, as he went back to piling wood and cleaning up kindling and scraps.
Brad’s heart sunk. “Why not? I mean if you’re okay with what I told you, why not?”
Jimmy shrugged. “I don’t know. Won’t that lifestyle take you away?”
Brad sighed and sat on the couch. “Jimmy, I haven’t adopted a lifestyle. Look at me. I’m just the same old me.”
Jimmy looked at him and nodded in agreement. “I was thinking of asking Lanie to marry me.”
“Whoa, seriously?”
Jimmy chuckled. “Yeah. I like her a lot. She’s the sweetest woman I’ve ever known.”
“And…?” Brad prompted. There had to be more to it than sweetness.
“Well, you see what you think. She really loves me. I don’t have to act like someone I’m not–or achieve anything–to get her approval. She wants kids. She loves this house. She decorated it,” he said, glancing around.
Brad wasn’t sure what to say.
“You could get married, you know. Gay marriage. Though not here. Not yet, anyway,” Jimmy said.
Brad did want to get married. He wanted a real happily-ever-after story, but the truth was that he didn’t even believe in the fantasy. “Well, we’ll see about that. Want to do some mountain biking while I’m here? You still have my old bike?”
“Of course. But I'd love to shoot some pool and get a couple of errands done today, if you don't mind. We'll go straight to pick Lanie up afterward. Are you ready to go?” Jimmy asked. He looked Brad up and down. “You gonna wear that? Oh, good news. Lanie found you an alternative date for tonight. No pun intended.”
“What? Oh, come on!” Brad shook his head. It was probably some old flame, who hadn’t gotten laid in Sheridan for over ten years or something. What a nightmare. “Not again,” he groaned. He had not enjoyed the last set-up at all.
His friend sighed. “This guy is supposedly, and I quote my girlfriend, HOT, sizzling hot or something. Used to model out in California.”
“Used to? How old is he? Is he like totally self-absorbed?” Brad didn’t usually date gorgeous men, though it wasn’t like he’d had the opportunity to turn them down much, either.
“Look, buddy, I didn’t get all the details.” Jimmy rubbed his beard. “But, put something nicer on, for God’s sake.”
Brad laughed because Jimmy and Lanie meant well. He went upstairs to shower and change, but not having expected to pick up a model in Sheridan, he hadn’t brought much in the way of fashion. He had a casual suit for the reunion and one other pair of decent slacks, which he donned now with a buttoned-down, loudly striped shirt: the type that screams Look at me, I must be gay, just a little. He hadn’t actually planned to wear it.
“Is this okay?” he asked when he went back downstairs.
Jimmy screwed up his face but said, “It’ll do.”
*******
They picked up Lanie, a petite, blond powerhouse with a small, short nose and high cheekbones. Her long, bouncy hair looked soft and smooth. Brad sat in back and gave an inconspicuous thumbs-up to Jimmy in the rearview mirror, like he would have done in high school and college.
The restaurant was crowded and noisy, a recent addition to the Sheridan line-up, and located next door to a country western dance club.
“Hey, Wendy,” Lanie said, as she walked on four inch heels to the bar. Even with the shoes on, she barely reached Jimmy’s shoulder. Her short dress was tight around her lithe waist.
With a moment alone, Brad looked at Jimmy and said, “You didn’t tell me you were dating Miss Wyoming!”
Jimmy laughed. “I told you she was cute. But, listen, she was too short for the pageants, so don’t bring that up.”
“Oh, wow. No kidding?” Brad chuckled and shook his head.
Then Jimmy’s gaze veered right. “There’s your date, I guess.”
Brad had assumed “Wendy” was a female friend of Lanie’s, but when he turned around, he quaked. Wendy was a six-foot tall, dark haired man with bright, blue eyes, which seemed to glisten even in the ambience of the dark restaurant. There was a little stubble on Wendy’s face, as was currently in vogue, and the V of his cheekbones was stark. Wendy had on tight, low-riding jeans, a tee shirt tucked into them, and an open, denim shirt.
“Hi,” said Jimmy. The two of them shook hands. “Did she say Wendy?”
“Yeah, short for Wendell. You can call me either way.” Jeez, even the model’s voice was sexy.
“And this is Brad from Chicago,” Lanie said, introducing them.
Brad smiled an awkward grin but couldn’t get any words out as Wendy shook his hand.
“Nice to meet you,” Wendell said.
Jimmy moved the group to the table with the assistance of the hostess.
Lucky for Brad, Lanie was a chatterbox. It gave him the chance to observe Wendell without leering. When the table turned to him, however, Brad tripped on his words as he explained he was in town to attend a reunion and visit with Jimmy. Plus he was unable to keep the conversation moving, and they were back to an uncomfortable silence.
“Are you studying at the University?” Jimmy asked Brad's date.
“No, I…I went to school in LA but dropped out when my career took off. I’m just here with a friend who’s going through a bad time,” said Wendell. It was the first time he seemed to falter.
Dinner came, and they managed to talk about movies and sports. Wendy was a fan of college football to Jimmy’s evident deligh
t. Brad had a feeling their reasons were different. When his date excused himself to use the men’s room, Brad watched him walk away. “Dear God,” he said out loud, unable to believe the situation he was in.
“Yeah, where did you find this guy, Lanie?” asked Jimmy. He must have taken Brad’s prayer as a complaint.
“He’s a friend of Charles.”
“Well, this guy is way out of my league,” Brad said.
“No, don’t cut yourself short, Brad. Besides, my friend Charles says Wendy’s probably desperate since he moved here to Sheridan.” Lanie’s face dropped as soon as the words left her mouth. “Oh, honey, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
“Lanie, Lanie, Lanie,” Jimmy said, shaking his head slowly. “This guy isn’t right for Bradley. He’s too…you know.”
“Too what?” Brad asked.
“You know. Too…you know.”
“Too gay?” Brad asked, testing just how “radically tolerant” his friend was.
“Exactly,” Jimmy declared as if it made sense.
Brad’s breath hitched. It wasn’t like Wendell was a twink or something. He was just good looking. “Shut up, he’s coming back,” Brad said, a bit surprised his date hadn’t ditched them. Brad planned to take advantage of it by actually talking to the guy.
*******
Brad walked Wendell to his car when they were through eating, grateful that Lanie and Jimmy both had to use the restrooms. “Well, thanks for putting up with this bizarre double date,” Brad said. He had indeed found his voice for the latter part of the meal.
Wendell placed his hand on Brad’s lower back and guided him away from the lot lights. The touch brought goose bumps to Brad, and he tried to maximize the surface area of their contact. When they reached the dark, Wendy kissed him hungrily. Brad must have looked surprised because Wendell laughed.
“Sorry, I’m just so horny. This town’s not been the luckiest place for me. Not that I slept around much in LA, don’t get me wrong,” Wendell said.
“That’s okay, don’t apologize. I just…um,” Brad said, still trying to catch his breath.
“Want to come home with me? No, I’m rushing it, I’m sorry… How about tomorrow night? You want to get together tomorrow night?” Wendell said.