Ryder's Boys

by Cody Ryder

  With the warm afternoon breeze on his back and the sounds of the neighborhood bustle at his ears, Joe’s mind quickly turned from business to thoughts of Bruce. He wished he had gotten his number—somehow it had entirely skipped his mind. He would’ve liked to have asked him out for lunch so that he didn’t have to wait an entire week just to see him again.

  I only just met the guy, he thought. Relax.

  Joe was good at compartmentalizing. He usually had no problem re-focusing his mind against distractions. For some reason, he just couldn’t stop thinking about Bruce. He’d gone to sleep the night before with him on his mind, and nothing had changed when he woke. The whole day at work Bruce had been sitting in the back of his head; during the meeting with Paul, answering e-mails, talking numbers with Lyle—it hadn’t affected his ability to work, but this had never happened to him before.

  Why?

  Why now, all of a sudden?

  The most logical reason he could come up with was that it had to do with his recent insecurities regarding his personal future. He was getting older, and he was no longer certain that dedicating his entire life to his business was what he wanted. It was a strange thought—one that Joe never would have considered ten years ago. If someone had asked him back then if he could be happy being single but highly successful for the rest of his life, he would’ve answered with a definite resounding, “yes.”

  A memory of three years prior, when Lyle’s daughter was born, came to his mind. He had been ecstatic for his friends, and he’d loved playing seeing Angie grow—but he never once had felt any desire or longing for what they had, or for what Lyle had with his wife and daughter. His focus was on his business. The company was his family. The company was his child.

  Now, something felt different.

  I’m letting my emotions get the best of me, he thought. That’s all.

  He reached the front of LeFlorette’s and pulled open the door, setting the bells hanging in the frame jingling. The place was mostly empty, and he felt an unexpected pang of guilt. It’s your fault, you know?

  Up behind the front counter, Julia perked up. “Hey there again,” she smiled. “Welcome back. You just missed the owner, he just had to run out.”

  “Are you serious?” he said. “Well, that’s fine. I’m actually here just for the sandwiches today. Can you guys do a bulk order? It’s nothing crazy, just six sandwiches. For my office.”

  “Sure, I can do six. I’m by myself, so it might take a little bit longer, is that okay?”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Spicy chickens?”

  “You know it.”

  He paid for the sandwiches and then sat down at the counter while Julia hurried to the back to start making them. He rubbed his jaw. There was no bruising, but it had gotten so sore during the night that it had woken him up and sent him searching through his moving boxes for a bottle of Tylenol.

  He really wanted to see Bruce again to talk more with him…and to get back in the ring with him. He wanted to beat him and even the score. Just thinking about seeing him again sent shivers of excitement through his body that he had to fight to control.

  He chewed his lip. Get a hold of yourself.

  “So, you work nearby?” Julia said as she slid the six sandwiches onto the grill.

  “Yeah, in the neighborhood,” he said.

  “What do you do?”

  Joe winced. “It’s a…I’m a manager for a…small local company.” He gritted his teeth. He didn’t feel good about having lying to her, but he knew that telling her who he was wouldn’t be the best idea. The funny thing was that he’d gone through this situation before, and had never had a problem saying just who he was even if it might cause a scene. It wasn’t something he relished doing, but he didn’t feel terrible about it either. After all, The Standard had started small too. To Joe, a place’s failure meant they didn’t fight hard enough, or smart enough.

  “It’s really nice of you to buy lunch for your office,” she said over the sizzling grill. The savory smell of spices and grilled onions filled the air, making Joe’s stomach rumble. It even perked up the two other customers sitting in the corner, and they looked over towards the kitchen to see what was cooking.

  “What can I say? I’m a thoughtful boss.”

  “I would think getting lunch’d be the intern’s job,” she said, flipping the sandwiches over in quick succession.

  “I’ve been blessed with an extra ounce of free time,” he replied. “I’m actually new to the neighborhood. Well, somewhat. I was born here, moved out of town for work, and I got a transfer back. Decided I’d check out the neighborhood, see where the good spots are.”

  “No way! Well, we’ve been around for a good two decades. We’re a family shop. The owner, his parents opened it back in the day, when he was just a baby.”

  “They’re retired now, or something?” he asked. “I have to admit; I don’t remember this place.”

  “No,” she said, her voice slightly distant. “They…both passed away at a young age, sadly. Callie—Mrs. LeFlorette—she left us only three years ago.”

  “I see,” he said, a heavy sinking feeling tugging at his heart. “I’m sorry.” He felt terrible, but what could be done? It was part of the business. Part of life. “It sounds like you knew her quite well? How long have you been working here?”

  Julia slid the sandwiches off the grill and onto a long wooden cutting board, and pulled out a serrated bread knife. “I started working here when I was in high school, so it’s been a good number of years,” she smiled. “Though if you hadn’t noticed, we aren’t exactly the most popular place on the block anymore. I don’t know how much longer we have left, hate to say it.”

  “I’m surprised more folks aren’t coming in for your sandwiches,” Joe said honestly. “I don’t see much competition there.”

  “We’re still hanging in because of our regulars.” She wrapped each sandwich in paper, sliced them diagonally, and then wrapped them again in foil and packed them into a plastic bag. She put the bag onto the counter in front of Joe and leaned in as if she was going to let him in on a secret. “You’re probably right. We’re competing for coffee, but we could be doing more about our sandwiches.” She shrugged. “I don’t know much about that kind of thing. Here are your sandwiches.”

  Joe laughed. “Thanks,” he said, picking up the bag. “You have a great day, Julia.” He headed for the door.

  “You too…oh. I never got your name.”

  He stopped at the door. “Joe,” he said, after a second’s pause.

  Eight

  Bruce refused to admit it to Julia or Marcos even with both of their endless prodding and teasing, but he really hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that next boxing class. What he felt most towards Joe was a cautious curiosity. Over the week he’d found himself daydreaming about what their next exchange would be like, and the more he played it in his mind, the more he started to dip into fantasy. Cautiousness was slowly becoming excitement.

  By the time class day came, seeing Joe again was all that was on his mind.

  He sat in his car out in the gym parking lot, staring blankly out the front windshield of his car. His gym bag sat on the passenger seat, and the clock ticked closer to class time. Normally he would’ve been inside by now, doing his normal workout routine.

  Maybe I shouldn’t see him again. Maybe it’s not a good idea.

  It was a thought that had run through his head before. Should he get more involved with this guy?

  He’s a friend. That’s it. There’s nothing wrong with making a new friend, is there? No. There isn’t. There’s nothing wrong with that at all. And that’s all he is and ever will be—just a friend I meet at the gym.

  For a brief moment, he considered turning the car on and driving home, but he knew he’d feel like an idiot if he did that.

  Bruce sucked in a breath, grabbed the gym bag off the seat, and left the car.

  He couldn’t stop his eyes from scanning the gym as he
walked through towards the locker room. Maybe he’s not here. His gaze stopped on a tall, dark haired man with a similar build as Joe working out at one of the weight machines, but as soon as he turned his head, Bruce could see it wasn’t him. He walked into the locker room, half preparing to find Joe in there waiting for him, but he was disappointed. Men shuffled in and out, the low sound of pop music playing over the room’s ceiling speakers accented by the occasional bang of a locker door. Bruce found the locker that Joe had used—vacant.

  He let out a sigh, unsure if it was of relief or of disappointment, and found an open locker on the other side of the room to store things in.

  Well, that makes things easier, then.

  After changing into his gym clothes, he shouldered his bag with his boxing gear and went to go to the class. He made another hopeful scan across the gym, but again did not find who he was looking for. Some irrational voice in the back of his mind wondered with horror if maybe he had given him a concussion after all.

  What if after he went home, he knocked out into a coma? What if he’s in the hospital right now, hooked up to breathing tubes? Would Frank know? Would anyone I know know?

  Bruce couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity, though the thought did continue to tease him at the back of his mind.

  When he opened the door to the classroom, he failed to restrain his expectation to see Joe standing there, already suited up in his boxing gear, talking to Frank—but was again disappointed.

  Frank was in the corner, speaking to a group of other students. He turned around at the sound of door opening, and gave Bruce a wave. Not here, Bruce thought, walking over to the wall to put down his bag. Damn.

  “Joe not here?” Frank asked, coming over and giving Bruce a firm handshake.

  “I don’t know,” he replied with a mild shrug.

  “You must be disappointed,” Frank said.

  “What?” Bruce said, surprised. “No…”

  “Oh. Okay. Well, I thought you would’ve because of what Julia said.”

  Oh, God, Bruce thought. “What did she say?”

  Frank looked like he’d just let a big secret slip. He scratched the back of his head. “Oh, nothing really. I just was chatting with her the other day—you were off that day, obviously—and um, well, she said that you might have a thing for Joe.”

  “What!?”

  “You don’t?”

  “No! No, I don’t have a thing for Joe. I just met the guy… What did she say to you?”

  Frank spoke cautiously. “Well, she just mentioned that you haven’t been with anyone in a long time and that you’d been talking about him a lot since last class…”

  “Because she asked me about him.”

  “Okay. Well, she also said that…ah, I’m talking too much.”

  Bruce shook his head. “Oh no, Frank, you gotta keep now. What did she say?”

  Frank sighed. “She just said that she’s known you long enough to tell when you’re into a guy, even when you might not know it yourself. And…that you distance yourself when you do. Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything…”

  Oh, Julia. Bruce let out a resigned chuckle. “I was hoping he’d be here today, so that’s not distancing myself, is it?”

  “So you are disappointed?” Frank grinned.

  Bruce frowned and opened his mouth to begin stumbling over his words again, when the classroom door opened. The two of them glanced over. Frank’s grin widened, and Bruce’s did his best to contain his surprise. There he was, standing in the doorway, his dark eyes flitting across the room before quickly finding Bruce’s. Bruce smiled, and a feeling of extreme lightness came over his body, as if gravity had left the room and his feet were slowly leaving the floor. The moment was brief. Gravity returned and he collected himself, unconsciously stomping out the feeling before it could have a chance to take complete hold of him.

  “Joe,” he said, reaching out to shake his hand. When their palms touched, he was surprised to feel a tingle of warmth spread through his body. “I didn’t think you were coming today.”

  I’m happy, he realized. I’m really happy to see him.

  “You kidding me? I told you we were going to go for round two. No, I just got caught up with work. Busy week. Hi, Frank.”

  “Joe. Good to see you again.” Frank shook his hand and then went off to speak to some of the other students.

  “So you’re ready to get your ass handed to you again?” Bruce asked, grinning.

  Joe coughed mock-offended laugh. “Oh! Oh, I don’t think so, Bruce. You got the jump on me last time, but I’m ready for you tonight. My jaw is still a little sore, though.”

  “I’ll make sure not to swing too hard, then.” He grinned. I’ve been waiting all week to see him.

  “What are you doing tonight?” Joe asked, lowering his voice. “After class?”

  Bruce was taken by surprise twice—first by Joe’s question, and second by the flip his heart did in reaction.

  “After class?” he replied, quietly. For a moment, it felt like everything else around him had faded away, and it was only him and Joe in their own little world.

  “I was thinking,” Joe said, a warm smile on his lips. “We could go get another drink tonight. Chat more.” He walked over to the wall and placed his gym bag down next to Bruce’s.

  “Well, I have some work stuff I need to take care of,” Bruce said quickly, nearly stumbling over his words. “I probably shouldn’t make a habit of drinking after the gym.”

  “Oh,” Joe said, nodding. He moved to stuff his hands into the non-existent pockets of his gym shorts, sliding his palms halfway down his thighs. Bruce had to stifle a laugh.

  “Yeah, we could go get another drink. I’d like that.”

  Joe’s face lit up. “Okay, then. Great, after class.”

  Bruce felt that lightness moving through him again, picking him up by the heart.

  Don’t get too involved, a voice said in his mind. Do you have time for something like this? Can you really afford to get involved? You don’t even know if he’s gay. You’re getting too far ahead of yourself.

  Just like that, his feet were back on the ground, and the tightness had replaced any levity.

  Just remember where your priorities are.

  “Well,” Bruce said, trying to shake away the strange tension of conflict that had suddenly gripped him. “Are you ready to fight?”

  It seemed like the entire class was eager to watch their rematch. When Frank called for sparring volunteers, all eyes turned towards the two of them.

  Joe knew that Bruce’s skills were the real deal, and he’d been completely confident that he’d be able to even the score that night. They stepped into the makeshift ring at the center of the room and tapped gloves, but as soon as Frank started the match, Joe immediately found himself picked apart by Bruce’s attacks. Every time he tried to land a hit on him, he seemed to disappear. Bruce was just that much better at boxing than he was.

  When Frank called time, the two of them moved to the side wall, both winded and trying to catch their breath.

  “God…damn…” Joe breathed. “How do you do that?”

  “Do what?” Bruce panted. He pulled his helmet off and took out his mouth guard, and then wiped the sweat from his forehead with a towel.

  “Move like that.” Joe yanked off his own helmet, sweat dripping off the strands of his dark hair onto the floor, his chest heaving.

  “Maybe you’re just old,” Bruce said, grinning.

  Joe winced. “Ouch.”

  “Want me to go easy on you?”

  “And have you hang that over me when I beat you? Hell, no.”

  Bruce laughed. “Don’t speak too soon, Joe.”

  When their turn came again, they quickly jumped back into the ring. They circled around the mat eyeing each other, their gazes locked and intense. Both of them were thrumming with energy. They were both alert, both engaged with each other, and their minds were completely free of work or any of the things that had been weigh
ing on them. Right now, they felt like different men, and they were having the most fun they’d had in a very long time.

  Joe finally managed to get the upper hand on Bruce, and after feinting him out, he caught the side of Bruce’s helmet with a left hook that sent him stumbling to the ground. Joe quickly crouched to his side and grabbed his arm.

  “Bruce, you okay?”