Pretend You Love Me (23 page)

Thank you, God. Thank you for worms. I’d never try to own her. She was her own person, a free spirit.

Jamie and Shane could take up residence in the toilet tank for all I cared. Xanadu was coming with us.

I vaguely remember Jamie ordering me to pick him up at six
AM
sharp so we could get to Denver International Airport by nine. Shane’s plane landed at ten-thirty and Jamie wanted time to
cruise the concourse.

Did he say cruise? More like work off nervous energy. My brain was fried. Last night’s party went on until four
AM
and I shouldn’t have even bothered coming home. The phone rang as I was knocking back my third cup of instant coffee. I lunged
to answer it, not wanting to wake Ma or Darryl. I didn’t need Darryl hassling me about the truck. Not today. Not on the day
I planned to speed up time, spend all day with Xanadu, move her in my direction. Today she would see the light; see me illuminated
in it.

“Mike, hi,” she whispered hoarsely. Was her throat as raw as mine? It felt like I’d been drinking straight gasoline. Plus,
I’d had to pull over twice on the way home to puke. “I can’t go today,” she rasped.

A veil of darkness dropped over my head. “Why not?”

She expelled an irritated breath. “Bailey called this morning. Aunt Faye was furious because it was like five o’clock. He
apologized for being such a butthead and wants to make up for it, so he canceled his 4-H doohickey in Wichita to spend the
weekend with me. He’s got it all worked out, he says, this elaborate lie he’s going to tell his parents so we can spend tonight
together. I mean, God. Bailey lying for me? I think it’s against his religion or something. Anyway, I guess since I’m the
one corrupting him, I better agree.” There was a smile in her voice.

My stomach hurt.

“I’m sorry, Mike. I really wanted to meet the mysterious cyber-Shane. And spend time with you, of course.”

Darkness. Aching inside.

“You’ll tell me all about it, right? I want a blow by blow. Did I just say that?” She giggled.

I needed to hurl. Or do crunches.

“Mike?”

“Yeah,” I said. Blow by blow.

There was a clunk on her end, a door slamming. “Shit, Uncle Lee just came in. I better go. Call me as soon as you get back.
Bailey better have enough condoms for overnight.”

We disconnected. I’d never felt violent toward anyone in my life until now. Bailey should watch his back.

Jamie was huddling on the stoop of his trailer, like he’d been camped out since I dumped him at the curb two hours ago. He
sprinted to the street and hopped into the truck.

“She’s not coming,” I anticipated his question. “She’s spending the weekend with Bailey.”

Jamie gave me this poor puppy dog look. I almost split his lip with a knuckle whip. I squealed away from the curb, whiplashing
his head on purpose. So what? I didn’t care. I had all the time in the world.

As I accelerated onto Highway 27, heading north to Goodland, Jamie shrieked, “Dammit! I forgot my camera.” He punched his
leg, hard. “Dammit. Goddammit.”

“Chill. We can pick up one of those disposables at the airport,” I said.

“You think?”

“I try not to.” It damaged my head.

He resumed bouncing his fist off his leg, the way he’d been doing ever since we left Coalton.

In syncopated rhythm with his fist, Jamie’s head began to bounce off the headrest.

“Will you stop that,” I ordered him. “You’re giving me a headache.” In addition to the nausea and vertigo. “What’s the worst
that could happen?”

“Are you kidding? He’ll hate me. He’ll take one look at me and get on the next plane home. The next plane to anywhere.” Jamie
exhaled all the air in his lungs. “I know he’ll hate me.”

“No, he won’t,” I said. “He’ll fall in love with you at first sight.”

Jamie met my eyes. He seemed to downshift a gear. “Do I look all right?” he asked. “I picked this green shirt because it brings
out my eyes, but maybe I should’ve been more subtle. Worn all black. Or dressed up. What if he’s wearing like, Abercrombie
& Fitch? I’ll die of embarrassment. What if he thinks I’m fat, or ugly? Or shabby, or immature, or inexperienced? What if
he doesn’t come?”

“He’s coming,” I said. “He wouldn’t have bought a plane ticket if he wasn’t coming.”

“He might’ve lied to me. Set me up.”

Jamie was just now coming to that realization?

“This whole thing could be a scam, like you said. He could be a pedophile.”

A little late to face the truth, I thought. The turnoff to I-70 loomed ahead and I switched lanes to exit. “I guess it’s a
good thing you brought me along for protection. If he’s a perv, I’ll beat the shit out of him.”

Jamie laced his fingers together under his chin and fluttered his eyelashes at me. “My queero.”

“Shut up.” I passed a little old lady going forty and floored it.

Jamie muttered, “I need a smoke.” He punched open the glove compartment and fished around. “Hey, didn’t I have a couple of
joints in here?”

My one lucid act before leaving this morning was to clean out the glove box. If we got stopped, I didn’t want to get busted
for more than speeding. “Darryl smoked them,” I lied.

“Damn.” Jamie threw himself against the seat back. “Damn. I should’ve taken a Xanax this morning. I’ll never live through
this.”

“Look,” I told him, “he’s probably the gorgeous hunk in his picture. He obviously likes you if he’s spending hard-earned gas-pumping
money to fly out here and meet you. I doubt he can afford Abercrombie & Fitch. I bet he’s as nervous as you are.”

Jamie blinked over. “He said he was. We both said how nervous we are.”

“Okay. Then you’ll have an emotional meltdown together. Your first exchange of bodily fluids.”

Jamie sighed. “The weather sucks.”

It was gray and drizzly, the gloom pressing in on my dark, heavy mood. Bailey could spend the weekend with Beau. Like Bailey,
like Beau. Lying to your parents. Good, Bailey. An admirable 4-H quality. I cranked up the radio to see if there was some
good music to distract me, keep me awake, keep me from thinking about it. In the middle of Reba’s “I’m a Survivor,” Jamie’s
head began to bobble. He was gone.

He looked so sweet, asleep. Innocent, vulnerable. I hoped for his sake Shane was everything Jamie dreamed of. Jamie had big
dreams. Bigger than mine. But then Jamie had always been out of touch with reality.

I
exited onto Pena Boulevard, heading for Denver International Airport. Jamie’s eyelids flew open. “Are we here already?”

Already? Three hours on the road, in the rain, hung over? I was trashed. “Ten more miles,” I said.

The clouds parted suddenly and sprays of sunshine reflected off the wet pavement. “Oh my God,” Jamie gasped. “That’s my sign.”
He pointed up through the front window. “Renata told me my cusp runneth over. She said I’d receive a sign today on my way
to Shane.”

His cusp? He’d had his horoscope read? Oh brother. The only sign I saw was the turnoff to the West Terminal.

As I poked along the rows of cars, searching for a parking space, I checked my watch. Ten to nine. I’d booked it on the Interstate.
We still had an hour and a half to kill before the flight from Birmingham landed.

Inside the terminal, we found a mini McDonald’s and bought a Coke and a large fry. We sat at a table watching all the people
come and go. The farthest I’d ever been from Coalton was Hutchinson, Kansas, on a field trip in fourth grade to the salt deposits.

Jamie said, “I wish we could meet his plane. What if I miss him?”

I muttered, “You assume he’s coming.”

Jamie just looked at me.

“Because he is,” I added quickly. “What are you guys going to do when he gets here? Where am I taking you?”

Jamie stabbed at his ice with a straw. “You mean if he doesn’t have a pulmonary embolism and faint over dead at the sight
of me?”

This was tiresome. He was such a girl. “Assuming the best. Say he’s a god.”

“Assuming the best,” Jamie repeated, “you’re dropping us off at the nearest Motel 6.”

That’s what I figured. “Seriously. Do you have a plan? Because if we’re just going to drive around, you need to give me more
gas money.”

Jamie flipped me his version of the finger—a stiff right pinkie. “Assuming he doesn’t require immediate medical attention,
I thought we’d go where gays hang out in Denver.”

“To a bar?” I cried.

“No.” Jamie clucked his tongue. “Capitol Hill. That area. I found out online that’s where the queer action is. If it was a
nice day, I thought we’d have a picnic in Cheesman Park. I printed out a map from the Internet. We could stop at a grocery
store and buy sandwiches or something.”

Yeah, that was romantic.

“Then we’ll go to the Motel 6.”

I threw a fry at him.

Every flight arrived in Denver at exactly ten-thirty. No kidding. As Jamie and I wedged through the swarm of incoming passengers,
I thought, We’ll never find Shane in this mob—if he’s here. I had my doubts. We stood off to the side of the escalator that
was bringing people up from the concourse trains, comparing faces to the picture Shane had sent Jamie. There were so many
people. Too many. No one remotely familiar.

The crowd began to thin. I sneaked a peek at Jamie and my heart sank. Shane had lied. I hated him.

One last time, I craned my neck down the escalator shaft. “Jamie?” a deep voice sounded behind us.

I wheeled around.

“Shane?” Jamie said. This guy about Jamie’s height with a backpack slung over his shoulder raised a videocam to one eye. “Saturday,
May fifth,” he spoke into the camera. “We finally meet. First impression…?” Shane took a step backward and panned the camera
down the length of Jamie. “Wow.”

I expected Jamie to strike a pose, crack a joke, giggle like a girl. But he just stood there, rigid.

“And Jamie. What is your first impression of Shane?” Shane asked. He lowered the cam and gazed into Jamie’s eyes. His voice
softened. “I hope he’s everything you were hoping he’d be.”

Beside me, Jamie melted. “And more,” he breathed.

They embraced, eyes welling with tears. Oh brother. Choke me with a camera strap.

They stayed like that forever. I cleared my throat. Jamie finally detached from Shane and said, “Oh, this is Mike.” He flipped
a limp wrist in my direction. “She’s my fairy butch.”

I slugged him on the arm. He howled.

Shane stepped back and raised the camera. If he thought he was going to include me in this little biopic, he was sadly mistaken.
I covered the lens with my hand and said, “I’m not all that photogenic.”

Shane grinned. Not mean or anything. More amused. Okay, he was cute. Sort of boyish-looking with bleached blond hair like
Jamie’s. Jeans, a long-sleeved tee. Big brown eyes. Wire-rimmed glasses. His cheeks were all flushed, as if he’d run the whole
way to get here.

In unison Jamie and Shane said to each other, “I can’t believe you’re here.” They laughed. They hugged again.

A second wave of passengers surged up the escalator and jostled us. Shane took Jamie’s arm and led him off to the side. Never
mind that I was almost swept away in the crowd. They took off toward the parking lot, both of them jabbering away a million
miles a minute. I straggled behind.

At the truck, Jamie opened the passenger door and let Shane in. He caught my eye and smiled so wide I thought his face would
fissure. “Mike’s our chauffeur,” he said to Shane. “She’ll take us anywhere we want to go.”

“You think.” I inserted the key into the ignition.

Shane said, “I really appreciate it, Mike. Thanks.”

He had manners. Score him a point.

As I backed out of the parking space, Jamie added, “I don’t drive. I’m scared to death of speed.”

Shane said, “That’s fine with me.” He pronounced it “fawn.” “A good friend of mawn from high school just died in a car accident.”

“Oh my God,” Jamie pressed fingers to his lips. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“A speeding drunk ran him off the road.”

Jamie reached over and took Shane’s hand. “I’m so sorry.” He held it. Easy, natural. Why couldn’t I do that with Xanadu?

As we headed for the city, the two of them talked about other things: music, movies, family. Shane’s parents were divorced.
He had two brothers and a sister, a cat named Russell. He’d come out at fourteen. His dad was still dealing.

We found Capitol Hill, finally, after wandering around downtown Denver for an hour. It freaked me, all the tall buildings
and one-way streets and traffic and pedestrians. This was Saturday too. Imagine a workday.

Jamie and Shane consulted the map and directed me east toward Cheesman Park. I spotted what looked like a grocery store. “You
guys want to buy your picnic here?”

“Wild Oats,” Shane read the grocery name out loud. “Yes, ma’am. I do believe I’ll be sowing myself some of those today.”

Jamie laughed hysterically. It wasn’t that funny. Shane’s accent was sexy though.

As we clambered out of the truck, I asked Shane, “What time does your flight leave?”

“One-thirty,” he said.