Band Fags! (28 page)

“Whose turn is it?” Joey asks a few rounds later, after returning from the kitchen with what must be his fifth or sixth can of Bud for the night.

“Dayton's,” says Max, gearing up to go. Then he adds, “Yo…Wake up!”

Brad's eyes pop open and he wipes the drool from the corner of his mouth. “Me, again?” he whines. “Jesus!”

Joey stumbles a little as he takes his seat. “Sorry, Paterno,” he apologizes, placing a hand on my shoulder to steady himself. Is it my imagination or does he give it a squeeze? Then to Brad he says, “Bring it on!”

All of a sudden, I can feel Brad's gaze burning a hole in me. “Ja-a-ack,” he sings sweetly. “Truth or Dare?”

Because I don't like the look in his eye, I say, “I'll take Truth.”

“Truth?” Joey scoffs. “Boring!”

“Don't be such a Pussy!” adds Max.

Followed by Audrey's “Yeah…Grow some balls for once in your life!”

“Fine!” I shout over the barrage of criticisms. “I'll take Dare.”

“That's more like it,” replies Brad, a glimmer in his eye. I can totally tell he's thinking up a good one. But what kind of Dare can he possibly give me that I'd be afraid to perform in front of all my friends? “I dare you,” he begins. Then he blurts out, “I dare you to kiss Joey Palladino!” Followed by, “French.”

All eyes focus on me. I can feel my face growing hot as the blood rushes to my cheeks. “Very funny,” I reply, remaining calm. “Try again.”

“It's my Dare,” Brad tells me, “and
you
gotta do it.”

“Kiss, kiss, kiss,” the other Truth-or-Darers chant. Including Max, who I've got a feeling doesn't think I'll really do it.

I look into Joey's eyes,
warm and chocolaty
.

Radiant as sunshine
, he smiles at me.

And with that,
his cherry lips
meet mine…

We become One…Time stands still…The World falls away around us.

Every overused cliché you can possibly think of—that's how I'd describe the next ten seconds. Better yet, like fireworks on the 4
^th
of July. Or that time with Bobby Brady and Melissa Sue Anderson as Millicent.

But in all my 16-going-on-17 years, I've never experienced anything quite like it…

The Joey Kiss.

What have I
done?

Staring in the bathroom mirror, I'm totally disgusted with myself. Eyes puffy, nose red, I'm a Total Mess. I can't stand the way I look after I've been crying. But here I go again…

No!

I will not do this. No amount of tears or remorse or guilt is going to change anything. We can't go back in time. This isn't some sci-fi fantasy starring Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour. This is Real Life. What's done is done…Though if we could, you can bet I'd do things differently.

I splash cold water on my face. Then I reach for the bar of Cashmere Bouquet lying askew in the pink Tupperware bowl my Mom uses as a soap dish. God, I hate the smell! But at 3 for 99¢, what can you expect? Roses, lavender, lilacs maybe? I don't know how to describe it. All I know is…There's nothing “cashmere” about the taste once I've stuck it in my mouth.

Back and forth I work my tongue, trying not to gag. Of course, I do, dry heaving the bar back into the pale blue basin. With my index finger, I scrub my mouth. Gums, top and bottom. Left side, right side. Lips. I reach down the back of my throat, coating my insides with glycerin…I think I'm going to retch.

Below the sink, I find the bottle of No-Brand mouthwash. Back in the day, we always used Scope or Signal, at least. Guess my Dad's gotten cheap in his Old Age. He'll be 35 next month, can you believe it? Unscrewing the childproof cap, I take a swig of minty green freshness. Swish, don't swallow. Faster and faster, burning the germs away…Then I spit them down the drain.

I stick out my tongue, pale and fuzzy. Then I scrape my teeth down its length, leaving emerald tracks. My reflection stares back, a Total Stranger. Who is this person I see before me? What happened to the little towheaded boy I once recognized? He used to read
Charlotte's Web,
go to Sunday school, and sing in the Church Choir. Young and innocent, all he wanted was to someday grow up…Now look what he's become.

One by one, I peel off my clothing. T-shirt, Levi's, Fruit of the Looms. White tube socks next. Sliding open the frosted glass shower doors, I reach for the H spigot, turn it on full blast. Then I step inside.

Chest, arms, back, butt.

I scrub and scrub my entire body.

Feet, toes, legs, crotch.

Anywhere and everywhere I can possibly reach.

Facing forward, I let my head drop, roll my neck. The water scalds my scalp. But it's not enough to wash away my sins.

I drop to my knees, the jets pelting my back like whips. Exposed in Total Nakedness, this is my sole chance for Redemption. Closing my eyes, I clasp my hands together, and—silly as it sounds—I begin to pray…

Dear Lord, please forgive me for I have sinned…I don't know what's happening to me.

I swallow hard, the floodgates of my eyelids holding back the tears, as I continue my silent confession.

I'm so sorry for what I've done…But I feel like I can't help it, sometimes…It's like the Devil gets a hold of me and he won't let go.

My chest heaves as I gasp for breath.

I know I promised myself—and You—that I'd stop. But I'm weak, Lord, and I'm scared…I'm scared You won't forgive me if I keep on living my life this way and doing these things.

But I know I'm not alone in this…

Please forgive
Brad.

Raising my hands to my mouth, I kiss the feet of Jesus himself.

He's my Best Friend, Lord, and I do love him…But I know we shouldn't be doing these things together…Please, please, please, God…Help me to
not
be this way anymore.

I rock to and fro with each desperate plea.

I know that you'll love me no matter what…But I don't want to keep living this way. I don't want to be like this.

I know in my heart what I say is the Truth. But I've been saying it over and over again for I don't know how long. This time I need for things to work out differently…They've got to.

Please help me to be strong and have the will to overcome this.

I take a deep breath. Then for good measure, I cross myself. Even though my family's not the least bit Catholic!

In Jesus' name I pray, Amen.

How did this ever happen?

I should've never stayed over Brad's house that night after Ava Reese's Truth-or-Dare party during Mid-Winter Break. But there was no way I could drive myself home after all the beer I imbibed. And I certainly wasn't trusting Max—or God help me, Joey Palladino!—to get me there, either.

“So…How was it?”

Once we were back at
Dayton's Depot
getting ready for bed, Brad asked me this.

I replied, “How was what?” Even though I knew he could only be talking about
The Joey Kiss.

“You know…”

“It was only a stupid game,” I said dismissively. Then I changed into a pair of sweats I'd brought along to sleep in. “It's not like I was into it or anything.” Even though maybe I secretly was.

“I still think Joey's hot for you,” said Brad. “Even after all this time.”

“You wish!” I told him. “That's
your
fantasy.”

I noticed a patch of reddish brown fuzz sprouting from the center of Brad's chest as he began unbuttoning his shirt. “It's totally scan-ju-lous,” he grinned. Then he stepped out of his pants and plopped facedown on his bed in nothing but a pair of white briefs.

The thing about Brad is…Ever since I've known him, he's had this thing about parading around half-naked. He's got a pretty decent body from swimming all those years. Nice legs, flat stomach, and a pretty decent butt. For a guy, I mean. I also can't help but notice the way he fills out his Fruit of the Looms. By which I mean Down There.

In all the years I've known him, I don't think I've ever seen Brad naked. Whenever we had to take showers after Gym or Swimming back in junior high, we'd always leave our bathing suits on. The only guys who had the guts to get fully undressed were the ones who had already started “developing.” Like Rob Berger.

Remember the guy at Webb who thought Brad's Mom was his totally hot girlfriend the time he saw them at the Mall together? From Day One in 7
^th
grade, Rob used to walk around the locker room totally naked. Needless to say, puberty had been kind to him. Me, I've always been
Leo the Late Bloomer.

“I can't even believe I actually did that.” I let out a groan, hitting the wall of harsh reality. “I'm sure it'll make for good gossip come Monday morning when we're back in school…People are
really
gonna think I'm a fag, now.” I wrapped myself up in a scratchy wool blanket I found in Brad's closet, the room cold as ice.

Brad rolled over, propping an arm behind his head. “Can I ask you something?” he said quietly. “And don't think I'm being a jerk when I say this, okay?” A beam of light shined across the wall through the treatment-less window as a car drove down Wanda.

I looked down at Brad lying on his back in his underwear. “Okay…”

“When you kissed Joey Palladino tonight,” he asked curiously, “did it gross you out? Or did you kinda like it?”

For a moment, I wondered if I should tell Brad the truth or not. I knew he was still friends with Luanne. What if he told her?

“It was kinda weird with everybody watching us,” I reluctantly admitted. “But it was okay, I guess.” Actually, more than okay. Which really got me worried. “Do you think this means I really might be…
like that?
”

Brad reached up and stretched. “You were drunk,” he yawned, half-asleep. “Joey was drunk…We were
all
drunk.” He assured me, “Just because you kiss a guy doesn't mean you're gay.” Then he quickly added, “And even if you are, I've told you a million times I won't care.”

I wanted to cry. “I thought I had everything figured out,” I said, frustrated. “I thought I
finally
knew what I wanted. Who I wanted to be…And now I'm acting all stupid, kissing Joey Palladino and
liking
it!”

Brad chuckled. “I know how you feel.” Then he said, “I felt the exact same way after I fooled around with Bobby Russell.”

Okay…I did
not
just hear Brad say what I thought he said, did I? Is he actually suggesting what I think he's suggesting?

“After you did
what
with Bobby Russell?” I asked in shock.

Even though I got the impression he let it slip, Brad acted now as if he wanted to take back what he said. But it was too late and he knew it.

“Didn't I ever mention I fooled around with Bobby Russell before?” he asked.

To which I replied, “No! I think I would've remembered something like that.”

“It's no big deal,” he insisted. “It was back in 9
^th
grade—”

“9
^th
grade?! And you
never
told me?”

He gave me a look. “Well, what was I supposed to say?” he asked, exasperated. “You were sooo in love with Hope from
Days of our Lives
! I couldn't say, ‘Hey, Jack…By the way, I'm a Big Fag
and
a slut 'cause I been giving Bobby Russell blowjobs on a regular basis for the last year.'”

After all this time, I finally knew the
real
reason why Brad had been such good friends with the Most Popular Boy at Webb Junior High. Of course, it took him over two years to share this juicy tidbit of information with me. Which was not part of our original agreement.

“You made me promise if
anything
sexual happened to either of us, we'd tell each other,” I reminded him, laying on the guilt. “Who, where, when…What it felt like! And here you were, getting it on with Bobby Russell all through 9
^th
grade and you never even told me?”

“I'm sorry,” Brad apologized, holding himself like a 2-year-old. “But I
really
gotta pee.”

This was not the end of it. “Sit down!” I ordered. “You can pee when you're finished with your story.”

Realizing he wasn't going anywhere, Brad sat on the edge of his bed, defeated. “What do you wanna know?”

“Every detail.” I sat down beside him.

“Well,” he began. “It all started one time we were at Bobby's house…We were sitting around his basement smoking pot, and Bobby started playing with his dick through his underwear…Right in front of me.”

Though I'd never been to Bobby Russell's house before, I could picture the entire scene clear as crystal. Brad and Bobby getting high, listening to Def Leppard or Quiet Riot or some other God awful Heavy Metal band.

“At first I didn't think anything of it,” he continued, softly. “But then he pulled it out and…” If the room hadn't been so dark—and I hadn't been so busy trying to imagine Bobby Russell playing with himself—I'm sure I would've noticed how embarrassed Brad looked. “That first time, we just beat off together,” he admitted. “But then the next time…I did it for him.”

“You did?” I asked, in awe of his audacity.

“Uh-huh,” Brad admitted. “And pretty soon after that…” Then he trailed off. “Well, you can imagine the rest.”

I'm sure Brad was expecting me to start freaking out. Either that, or to launch into one of my famous lectures. Which I probably
should
have. But for some reason, all I said was, “You Little Slut…Good for you.” Just because I hadn't gotten any action in the past, why shouldn't my Best Friend? Then I thought about what this Revelation meant…

“I can't even believe Bobby Russell's a Big Fag! I never would've thought that in a bijillion years.”

“Me neither,” Brad replied. I could tell he felt a sense of relief that I wasn't angry or upset. “But the amazing part is…He says he's
not.
”

To which I scoffed. “He let you blow him, didn't he?”

“Yeah…But after we fooled around a couple times,” Brad replied, “I was like, ‘I can't believe you're a fag, too.' And Bobby was like, ‘Just because I let a guy suck my dick, doesn't make me a fag.'”

Now I'd heard everything. “What an Asshole!” I cried. “He can get it up for a guy, but Bobby's not a fag himself?”

“I'm just telling you what he said, Jack.”

I shook my head in utter disbelief. “Didn't Bobby ever do anything to you?”

“Never,” Brad admitted. “It was totally one-sided…But I didn't care.”