Better Than Friends (12 page)

The first part was an outright lie while the second was a half-truth. Either way, Jack called me on it immediately.

“Right. I bet” came the sarcastic reply. “No offense, but… damn.” Jack made a theatrical sweep of his hands, indicating that the piles of newspapers, empty takeout containers, throw pillows strewn on the floor, and old coffee cups littering various surfaces did not impress him.

“Well excuse me, Mr. Clean and Tidy, but I didn’t realize I’d have company today. I would have made a point to tidy up for you. Geez!” I narrowed my eyes at him, annoyed and totally embarrassed.

Jack rolled his eyes and began picking up trash and gathering cups on the coffee table.

“You are a confusing man, Curtis. You’re a control freak. I don’t know you well but I know you hate not knowing what’s going on, when it’s happening, and you’d like to know you’ll be safe. Aren’t control freaks supposed to be, I don’t know… a little tidier? Shouldn’t you care that you’re practically begging to catch some bacterial bug surrounding yourself in a few weeks’ worth of takeout boxes?” Jack continued his muttering as he made his way to the kitchen and then back again. He sounded flustered and agitated as he added, “I can’t even think in these conditions.”

“I guess my secret’s out,” I tried to joke, giving him a weak chuckle. I could feel my face brighten with embarrassment. “Uh… can I get you a beer?”

“I think I
need
a beer,” Jack countered. He shook his head in bewilderment as he removed his leather jacket and made a big production of checking the chair he was draping it over before doing so.

“It’s not
that
bad.” I gave a half-chuckle, amused now by his show of anal retentiveness. Jack shot me a “you’ve got to be kidding” wide-eyed stare as I headed back to the kitchen with the last remnants of obvious clutter.

Jack followed me into the small space and stood with his hip perched against the counter. I’d have to bet he was unaware of how completely he took over any given room, let alone my tiny galley-style kitchen. I handed him a cold beer and tipped my bottle to his.

“Cheers.” Jack gave me a small grin that quickly broke into a megawatt smile, lighting up his face and making his blue eyes twinkle.

“I’m not the greatest cook, but I can follow basic instructions.” I needed a diversion fast. My jeans were tight again. Dammit. “I bought a precooked chicken. So that part is easy. I’ll just start the rice and throw together a quick salad. Okay by you?”

“Sounds good. Let me help. I can follow instructions too.”

I gulped, took a swig from the bottle, and turned back to the fridge to grab the necessary ingredients. And to hide my hard-on. My jeans felt way too snug. No man had ever had this effect on me. It was strange. The worst part was not knowing if he had any of the same feelings for me. Intellectually, I figured he had to have some teensy bit of desire. Why else would he have asked me to the game today? And he kissed me last night after my date with… shit, I couldn’t even remember the guy’s name. Jack was all I could think of.

We worked companionably in the confined space, cutting vegetables and talking about the game we’d just been to while another one played as background music on the television in the living room.

“I’m not trying to encourage you necessarily, but how do you know so much baseball trivia? Did you memorize the sports category of Trivial Pursuit?”

Jack kindly chuckled at my lame joke. “No, funny guy. My stepdad was a big fan. I grew up watching and playing baseball.” He gave me what I was beginning to think of as his patent Jack shrug, which I understood to mean he didn’t have any other explanation. “He collected baseball cards and it sparked an interest. I literally would memorize those cards, and we’d get into big debates about player stats and an athlete’s career longevity. It was a bonding thing, I suppose. His way of connecting with a scrawny smart-ass kid who wasn’t his own. It worked. When he left, I was sad to see him go.”

Jack spoke quietly in a matter-of-fact tone. He wasn’t making a point of talking about childhood loss, but it hung in the air between us like a dark cloud that had the power to dampen the carefree mood if we let it.

“I guess it was like that for me too. My whole family was into baseball. Growing up, I couldn’t wait to get my first glove.” I smiled at the long-ago memory as I handed Jack his plate and nudged him toward my small kitchen table.

I bit into my chicken and was happy I’d gone with a prepared bird. It tasted better than anything I might have attempted. When I looked over at my quiet companion, I found him staring at me.

“What?” I used my napkin liberally, hoping I wasn’t wearing my meal.

“I’m curious about you. Where you come from, what made you who you are… but I get the sense you don’t like talking about your family.”

It was my turn to shrug as though the chicken hadn’t turned to sawdust in my mouth. I took a swig from my beer bottle, hoping to wash away the wicked taste. Jack was silent across the small table. For some reason I noticed his fork in his hand, thinking it looked so tiny. It struck me as funny, like he was a Jack-and-the-Beanstalk giant. Since his name actually was Jack, I burst into a fit of inappropriate laughter I couldn’t seem to control. Tears ran down my face, and Jack’s bemused expression only fueled my mirth. When I finally managed to regain control, I had a good case of hiccups to deal with. I could feel my face heat furiously as I struggled to get my newest source of mortification under wraps. I stole a surreptitious glance at Jack and felt my heart skip a beat. He sat silent and still with his head cocked, wearing an expression full of compassion, grace, and kindness. His look quietly spoke volumes.

Don’t be embarrassed. Don’t worry about anything. You’re safe. You’re good. I have nothing but time. You aren’t alone.

I immediately sobered and attempted another drink of beer.

“I’m sorry. I….” I stared off in the direction of the television. The game was over, and a couple of former athletes were sitting at a table talking about the old days.

“Don’t be. Is it okay to ask how your dad is doing? You said he was sick.”

“Um….”

“We don’t have to go there, but sometimes it helps.” Another shrug.

I fixed my gaze to the beautiful tattoo on Jack’s arm. It was a strong design, done mostly with black ink but with color there also. Bursts of red, orange, and green gave life to the gorgeous tribal designs as flames intertwined with the barbed pattern. I took a deep breath and looked up.

“He’s dying. So I guess the short answer is that he isn’t doing well at all.” I sounded cold and distant. I hated my spiteful tone and that my inclination was to hate my family for bringing out the worst in me.

“Hmm.”

“I… I don’t mean to sound like a prick, but I’ve tried hard to keep three thousand miles between us in both a figurative and literal sense. So this… my dad… I don’t really know how to deal with this…. Does that make sense?”

“Can I ask what happened?” Jack’s voice was low. So low I almost didn’t catch what he was saying.

Of course he could ask. Whether or not I was ready to share was the real question. I never talked about my family. Somehow I sensed the hunky, muscled, tattooed man sitting at my kitchen table with a countenance of wisdom and patience might just make the perfect confidante. I believed he was trustworthy and moreover, I thought he just might be right. Maybe talking would help. Maybe this was part of my process to shed my past and begin a real future.

“Uh… well, okay. The condensed version is I went to college a straight kid and came back a gay man. With a boyfriend. The boyfriend didn’t come home with me, but… you get the picture.” I paused, unsure about how to continue. “They didn’t think I was serious at first. They thought it was a weird joke. You know, the kind of liberal comedy college kids bring home to their conservative folks just to get them riled up. When it became clear I wasn’t kidding, they went berserk. Actually, my dad went crazy. My mom just drank. Quietly and often.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah. The problem wasn’t their reaction. I sort of expected it. In fact, there was a part of me that enjoyed it. Which of course made my father even more nuts.”

“Sounds like you were primed and ready for a fight.” Jack’s tone made it evident he shared similar feelings at some point in his youth.

“Probably. I’m from San Francisco, man. A mecca for gay rights and liberal thought. Home of the beatnik poets, hippy love, and the Folsom Street Fair. How the fuck was I born into the most conservative family in the entire city? It was cruel. At least, that’s how my younger self saw the world. I still contend it was, to a degree, but we can’t change where we come from. Only where we go. Right? Someone famous must have said that.”

“There’s a line something like that in
The Perks of Being a Wallflower
,” Jack said, smiling.

“I like that book.” I smiled wistfully, thinking it was tempting to change topics and talk literature. I took a sip from my beer bottle before continuing. “I felt the way most kids do when they come home from college for the first time. Invincible, cocky, and self-righteous. I didn’t hesitate when I told them who I was. Like most dumb teenagers, I miscalculated the aftereffects. They were considerable.”

Jack leaned forward in his chair and brushed his fingers against mine, silently urging me to go on with what he must have gathered was the difficult part. I felt my pulse race and my palms sweat. It wasn’t an uncommon reaction for me when I thought of the past. But this time I wasn’t alone. Jack covered my hand and squeezed lightly.

“My dad is a big tech exec, and my mom’s family is old California money. Big bucks. Railroad and other stuff. Anyway, when he asked my boyfriend’s name, I told him. I was out and proud now. I didn’t think it mattered. It did. Turns out that Kyle’s dad worked for mine. Not directly, but for some firm my dad sat on the board for. Strike one. He set up a ‘meeting’ for us. Parents, Kyle, and me. I was scared, I admit, but Kyle was terrified. He hadn’t told his parents, so they were blindsided by the ‘reveal,’ and on top of it, they were extremely religious. Fuck!”

I had to stand. My skin felt too tight suddenly and tingly. I could feel the panic threatening to choke me. I took a deep breath, vaguely aware Jack had risen too. He wasn’t touching me, but he was near.

“Our parents decided we were confused and some retraining would be beneficial.”

“Retrain… are you saying they sent you to one of those…?”

“The term is ‘gay conversion therapy’ programs. And no, I didn’t go. I was spared. But Ky… he wasn’t.”

I didn’t realize I had tears in my eyes until Jack wiped one from my cheek. He pulled me into his arms and held me tightly as I gasped in sorrow. I didn’t cry. I never did. This was an otherworldly type of grief. It wouldn’t be easily washed away with cleansing tears. I didn’t understand it. Why now? The current was strong and it threatened to pull me physically under. I felt weak, horribly fragile… and afraid.

Why was I falling apart from a ten-year-old tale? It had been an undeniably awful time in my life. But it was ancient history. Kyle was okay now. I knew he’d survived his ordeal and was in fact living with a man he met and fell in love with during the failed therapy. Maybe the years didn’t matter. My guilt had overwhelmed me. Obviously it still did.

“I’m sorry.” I pushed Jack’s chest slightly, needing some breathing room. I stepped away and rolled my eyes, wanting some levity to diffuse the ugly memory. I tried to think of a joke but came up short. “Fuck, I… I didn’t mean to dump all that on you. It was a long time ago. Ky is fine and living a beautiful gay life somewhere, and I’m here… doing the same. It was a bad chapter in the life and times of the young Curtis Townsend. That’s all.”

“Don’t apologize.” Jack’s tone had me doing a double take. He didn’t sound angry per se, more like fierce.

“O-kay….” I took a deep breath and walked over to the sofa, hoping he’d join me. I had lost my appetite. “I’m fine now. Just so you know. It was a surreal time for sure, but I survived. My grandmother was the one who called a stop to my so-called ‘therapy.’” I stopped, smiling weakly at the memory of her swooping in to save the day. “She suggested a change of scenery instead, which is how I ended up in Georgetown, where, as you astutely figured out the first night we met, I’ve stayed. It’s safe here because they aren’t around, and I don’t have to worry constantly about being the big family embarrassment.”

Jack finally joined me, sitting heavily next to me. Close enough our knees touched. His expression was thoughtful and so beautifully earnest. I melted a little, knowing he was an empathetic man.

“Thanks, Jack.”

He looked surprised and shook his head in denial. “I didn’t—”

“You listened. Thanks.” I felt my pulse return to normal and decided if I couldn’t find a humorous way out of this conversation, I could always offer more beer. I stood to go to the kitchen. Jack stopped my progress, pulling me onto his lap and wrapping his large, comforting arms around my waist.

“I guess I understand the daddy issue now.” His words were muffled in my chest, but they made me smile. A silly reference to our age difference that had no basis in reality. Our eyes met and we chuckled.

“I don’t have daddy….” I busted up in a fit of giggles. I didn’t know if it qualified as inappropriate laughter or not, but it was a much-needed release. I bent down to kiss Jack’s lips. A friendly kiss, a thank-you kiss. But it quickly became more.

Jack slid his fingers up my back and took my head in his hands, holding me still as he deepened the kiss, licking at my lips until they parted. He sighed into my mouth and gently probed my tongue with his. I swiveled to face him, wanting to feel the press of his chest against mine. Our positions on the sofa made it difficult to move, so I gave up and kissed him as deeply as possible, stopping only to trace his stubbled chin with my tongue and nibble along the thick column of his neck and jawline. His scent alone was intoxicating and I wanted more. I pulled back slightly to catch my breath and felt Jack’s hard-on through his jeans. With a sureness that surprised me, I cupped his dick with my open palm. Jack groaned and tilted his hips to meet the friction.