Tricks (11 page)

Weaving us in and out of the Bohemians

crowding the sidewalk.

It's nice to be out with him. But it also makes me

*

sad. We used to do this

more when we first got

together. Restaurants.

Theater. Long walks, talking about life in general.

*

Then it all became about sex. More sex. Better

sex. Unusual sex. Like

most couples, I guess.

Is that what I'm really

*

afraid of losing? Not

connection or affection, not the growth caused by absorbing love? If

so, what have I become?

188

I Can't Help

But think about that as

Pietro escorts us to our favorite table, one

we haven't asked for in too many weeks, a fact he

*

reminds us of.
Why have

you stayed away so long, misters? I was beginning to think you

maybe got bad fish last time.

*

Loren always orders the fresh fish. He responds,

Now you know we've never

gotten so much as a single

bad mouthful here, Pietro.

*

The broad Italian smiles.

Well then, we have on the menu fresh sea bass

tonight....
He goes on to describe the specials in detail.

*

I'll stick with my usual

mushroom raviolis.

I lost Pietro after sea bass, wondering if, without Loren,

I'll ever eat here again.

189

I Guess I Might

If I ever happen to come to Louisville again, once

Loren's gone. The food is delicious. If the place was in a different part of

*

town, I might even bring

Dad along, see if he could

interest Pietro in his supersecret

recipe for venison

sausage, biscuits, and gravy.

*

The thought makes me smile, and that makes Loren smile

too.
What? he
says, the corners of his mouth still curled in that oh-so-familiar way.

*

It's hard to put him and Dad in the same place, even if

that place is inside my head.

"Nothing." Under the table,

Loren's hand finds my thigh.

*

So,
he says,
I thought

we might go out for a little while after we

finish dessert. There's
a club not far from here....

190

His touch is doing strange

things to me. At least, they

feel awfully strange in a restaurant. "A club? You

mean...? You're not serious."

*

Completely serious. Tonight

they even let underage guys

inside, as long as they have a sponsor. I figured I could

sponsor you. How about it?

*

Right now, my body wants

him to do more than "sponsor"

me. But I have to admit, I'm a little curious. "I thought

you didn't like gay bars."

*

I don't. Not alone. But I'm

not alone tonight, am I?

He spies Pietro, bringing

our tiramisu, and his hand

falls away. Leaves me cold.

191

Cold Becomes Clammy

As Loren and I make our

way past Mr. ID Checker at the door to Fringe. He

looks at Loren's license, nods, barely glances at mine.

*

I shake my head. "What was that? He didn't give a damn about how old I am. And just

why do you have to show ID to prove you're underage?"

*

Loren grins.
You're supposed
to be eighteen to get in.

But you're right, he doesn't

really care. Kentucky
is notoriously lax on

*

such things. It hasn't been
all that long since they

raised the drinking age to twenty-one, and they

don't very often bust bars

*

for serving to minors.

Still, I wouldn't stand

right in front of the guy, sipping bourbon. He

might decide to get nasty.

192

Fringe

Is a lot different than I

thought it would be.

I expected sleazy, but it borders on upscale, all dark

wood and brass and suede.

*

It's not that late, as bar

scenes go, so the place

isn't too crowded. Still, maybe fifty or sixty guys are drinking, laughing,

*

and hitting on other guys, if they're not coupled up already. Loren and I find

cushy chairs in the back, and he goes to order drinks.

*

I use the opportunity to check out the river of faces.

Many are average. You

wouldn't look twice at them on the street. A few

*

you wouldn't want to look

at. Okay, they're not very

attractive, and when they

openly stare at me, it creeps me out completely.

193

There are also some beautiful

men here. Most of them are younger, yet a fair number

gravitate toward much older

guys. I don't think it's all about

*

love. I watch a decent-looking

middle-aged man, sandy

haired and very well dressed, head off to the men's room.

Within three minutes, his young

*

companion flirts obnoxiously.

Glad he didn't pick me to flirt

with. When the older guy

returns, he is not pleased.

He slams his fist on the table,

*

grabs his designer overcoat, and stomps toward the door, followed by the younger guy.

If I beat up a table, would

Loren follow me out the door?

194

Would He Decide to Stay

If I tried coercion instead of a simple plea? What if

I threatened his family?

Like I could, considering

I don't know who--or where--

*

they are. He's never shared

that information with me, nor told me where he went to school, or how (or if) he outed himself.

That's a lot not to tell me.

*

He returns now with two

sugar-rimmed glasses, filled with amber liquid and some sort of green

leaves.
Mint juleps,
he says.

*

Froufrou drinks? I take a big

swallow, fight to not choke.

"H-holy crap. What's in these things?" Whatever it is burns going down.

*

He can't help but laugh.

Bourbon. A little sugar

syrup, some mint leaves, but other than that,
bourbon. Sip, don't gulp.

195

I'm Doing a Fair Job

Of sipping, not gulping, when one of the most

incredible-looking men I've ever seen

shakes his butt by. My mouth

must have dropped open,

*

because Loren turns to see

what I'm staring at.
My, my

He
is
a fine work of art, isn't

he?
We watch the guy cozy up to a what might be less

*

than affectionately termed

"old faggot." Within five

seconds, the ancient dude is buying the fine work of art a drink. "What's up with that?"

*

Oh hon, haven't you ever

heard the term "sugar

daddy"? Lots of young

guys go looking for easy

drinks, easy meals, maybe

*

even a place to stay. When

you look like him--
he

points toward Pretty Boy, then he turns and his eyes

scan my face
--or you,

196

it isn't hard at all to find

someone who'll take

care of you. Sometimes

they'll set you up in your

own place, or move you

*

into theirs. Sometimes

you live like a movie

star, even. The price

tag is regular sex.

He waits for my reaction.

*

"Regular sex, with someone like that?" I take a deep

drink of minty bourbon, actually enjoy the burn.

"I could never do that!"

*

Loren shakes his head.

Never say never, dear.

You might be surprised at
what you can do, should

circumstances dictate.

197

A Poem by Whitney Lang
Circumstances

Create our conception, how we live, what kind of person we manage to grow

into. Another day, a different hour, take a left and not a right, you'd wind up a whole

different being. Knowing

if that would be better

requires a realm of experience

only decades can build.

Roses? Lilies? Moonlight?

Sunlight?

Which do I prefer? Ask

me again in thirty or forty years.

198

Whitney The Best Thing

About my mom being such a bitch is not worrying about trying to make her proud of me. Smoke it

*

up, drink it up, and if

I happen to get caught, well, wouldn't it just slay her if the news got around?

*

Kyra, too. Oh, she'd pretend

that her concern was all about me, rather than her precious reputation,

*

but that would be total

toad crap. "Total toad

crap." TIC. Hey, I like that. TTC, my new spew.

199

Kyra's Home

From Vassar. Normal

college geeks go to places like Florida or Mexico for spring break. Not Kyra.

*

She comes home to spend

time with Mom, who actually

rescheduled a tennis game to take her into the city.

*

I sooooo need some new

clothes,
Kyra fished.

The styles back east are sooooo not me, you know?

*

Like jeans aren't the same beyond the Mississippi.

Like you can't find angora in Manhattan! TTC. for sure.

*

Mom swallowed the bait.

We'll run up to Sacramento

Street. There's a new boutique

I've been dying to check out.

*

Then maybe Daddy can take

time to have lunch with us. New

York seafood can't possibly

compare to San Francisco's.

200

sounds fun,
said Kyra.
Give

Daddy a call and see if he can

make it. I'll go take a shower.

Unless you want it first....

*

Directed at me. "No, no.

Go ahead. I'm not planning on going anywhere special

today, just hanging out here."

*

Mom just shook her head, but

Kyra sputtered,
You're not

coming? But you have to! It will

be so much more fun with you.

*

Like they really wanted me to come. Talk about TTC!

"No, you guys go. I don't feel so great today, anyway."

*

Kyra might have argued

more, but Mom decided,

You should stay home then.

Last thing I need is a bug.

201

Last Thing

Any of us needs is Mom with a bug. She's bitchy

enough totally healthy.

Weird, but I can't remember

*

the last time she was sick.

Too freaking mean, I guess.

She probably scares the bugs

away. Anyway, Kyra and

*

she continued their mutual

butt-kiss fest all the way out the door. I have to admit

I half wanted to change

*

my mind and go with them.

If I believed they really

wanted my company, I just

might have. Instead, knowing

*

I'll have the place to myself

most of the day, I called Lucas as soon as the door slammed behind Butt Kissers One and Two.

202

After the Last Fiasco

Lucas was just a bit hesitant.

Are you
sure?
Man
,
last time was a way close call. I definitely

don't need that kind of trouble.

*

What a wuss! But that's not

what I said. What I said was,

"They won't be home until three at the absolute earliest.

*

Come over right now. Please?"

Then I made my voice all

breathy, hoping that was sexy.

"I really, really need to see you."

*

Need to see him, to melt like candle

wax against his heat. Need his heat.

Any heat. Need to feel warmed, wanted. For a change.

*

But I didn't say any of that, either. No use letting him

know I'm needy. Anyway, it worked.

He should be here any minute.

203

I Did Shower

Even borrowed some of Kyra's

way expensive ginger-scented

shampoo and lotion. No wonder she always smells so good!

*

The last time I went to the mall with Paige, one of the few