by V. L. Locey
“I was trying to tie it into gardening since that’s your thing,” I tossed out with a crooked smile. He shook his head but didn’t leave. He didn’t sit either but he didn’t run off like I had. Guess who was the braver man. “Let’s just watch the movie.” I leaned up to grab the remote, find the chosen cinematic masterpiece, and offered it to him, giving him the power to make the next move.
His lips settled into a slash but he dropped down beside me and hit play. He made sure to keep his body from touching mine for the first thirty minutes or so of the movie. After that, he was too into the incredible story of Vincent Van Gogh to notice his thigh resting snugly beside mine. During the movie, we chatted about the story here and there. I got up to grab us some pink lemonades from the fridge, and when I sat back down, he thanked me then tapped my bottle with his. After the film ended, he turned his head to look at me.
“You’re really pleasant to hang out with,” he said and I blinked in shock. “No, really. You’ve been nothing but a gentleman tonight.”
“What did you think I was going to do? Leap on you like a hungry fox who just spotted a crippled mouse?”
“No, of course not.” He chuckled then placed his empty bottle on the coffee table. When he sat back he drew up a leg so that he was facing me. I slid around sideways so that I could enjoy the beauty of the setting sun on his face.
“You really are incredibly handsome,” I said and slid my hands under my ass so I didn’t reach for him as I wanted. “I need to think of some new bet to make with you so we can kiss again. Oh! I bet I can name every Kirk Douglas film in chronological order before you can—”
“We don’t have to have a wager lost to kiss again,” he slid into my ramble, causing my brain to stutter and spin. He touched me then, just a light little caress of his hand over my knee. Might have been innocent that brush of knuckles over naked kneecap. Knowing Bran it probably was, but the live wire reaction sparked to life, and my body heated up instantly as my thoughts tangled.
“You’re sending some really mixed messages here.”
“I know. I’m sorry. My emotions are all over the place. One second I’m mired in guilt for wanting you, the next second I’m fantasizing about our mouths touching.”
“I vote for option two.”
He leaned over and gave me that second option. A chaste little kiss to begin with, one that was sweet and light. And still I sat on my hands. Somehow his fingers curled around my neck and the kiss began to change into something that he wasn’t at all prepared for. My eyes drifted shut and I let him do what he wished for as long as he wished. The flicker of his tongue on my lower lip made me groan. I fisted my hands, grabbing the loose material of my shorts as he licked at my mouth seeking entry. I opened and he tentatively slipped inside. He was a timid kisser at first but the surge of attraction arcing between us was just too strong to ignore.
“God above,” he panted when the kiss ended. I opened my eyes as lust pounded through me. He stood and my gaze ran over him, lingering on the thick length of cock pushing against his zipper.
“Would using one’s teeth to pull down a person’s zipper violate a hanging out as friends who are not dating but swapping spit arrangement? Asking for a friend.”
His short, awkward laugh was unexpected. “That sounds so stupid,” he coughed out after that explosive laugh. He sat back down and reached for my hands, tugging them gently out from under my ass then placing them on his shoulders. I could feel the tension in him. “I am sorry, Nate. For making all of this far more confusing than it needs to be.” He sucked in a big breath, his wide chest expanding with the inhalation. When he exhaled, his gaze grabbed mine and held it. “We are dating. This was a date. I promise not to be such a moron on our next date if you still want to go out with me.”
“Yeah, I want to go out with you,” I replied as I floundered around in those beautiful eyes of his.
“Good, I want that too. I’ll work on my stuff, all of it, I promise. And you don’t have to sit on your hands anymore. Just…go slow with me.”
I removed my hands from his shoulders and took his hands, linking them, and lifting them to my lips and kissed his knuckles. That made his gaze glitter with passion and deeper emotions that we weren’t ready to deal with tonight. All I did know was that my eyes were probably telling him the same things.
“I’ll be super respectful.” The vow was an honest one. “I promise I won’t grab your ass at the garden center. Well, not where anyone can see it.”
His ears grew beet red. That made me smile so I kissed his knuckles again. “Okay well good. We’re now dating. That sounds odd but nice. Very nice,” he added when I began to nibble on his thumb. “I’m having a Fourth of July party next weekend at my house. Would you like to come over?”
I stopped nibbling and grinned. “I’d love that. I can bring a keg.” His mouth dropped open. “I’m just shitting you. Man, you’re totally gullible.”
“Wiseass,” he mumbled then chuckled under his breath. “My uncle and aunt will be there, along with my friends and some of the more mobile garden gurus. Are you okay with that?”
“Sure, yeah, I love your uncle the judge. He’s like super cool.”
“You’re lying.”
“Totally yeah.”
“Such a wiseass.”
“Guilty as charged. Want to snuggle up and watch another Kirk classic?” I released his fingers, fell into the back of the sofa, and lifted my arm. “I have 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea,” I added to sweeten the deal.
“How about you show me Spartacus instead?” He let his weight carry him back into the couch. I looped my arm around his shoulders and pulled him close.
“I want to make a baby with you right now,” I teased, rubbing my cheek against his as the movie began.
“Let’s get the fourth out of the way first,” he replied as his head slowly found my shoulder. “Then we’ll talk about baby making.”
That sounded fine to me. More than fine, it sounded about as close to perfect as a man could get.
Life was good after that awkward first date. I’d started splitting my time between the summer hockey league and the community garden. Days were spent with Bran and the old folks, evenings with the kids. I’d even managed to get the master gardener to come to my place for dinner one night after a Pony practice. That was date number two. I made him say it between soft, wet kisses that left us both hard and wanting. All this giving was good. It left me little time to lay around, dwelling and drinking. Now that I was away from the party life I was starting to see just how much partying I really did. It was a lot.
If I were home in Ohio right now, or even out in California with Chris and Dad, I’d be out every night at clubs trying to drown out the sound of the police sirens and the sight of all that blood the night the life of Nate Zinkan changed forever.
While the guy at the pizza place may have shut me down for a beer, there were people I knew all over this town. Lots of people. Dudes that I’d hooked-up with who would gladly buy me anything I wanted if it got them my cock in their ass again. Booze, drugs, other men. When you’re famous, it’s all right there. Just reach out and take it.
Thankfully I’d not gotten into the dope, but the drinking…yeah, that was my crutch. Funny how I’d not seen going out every night as a problem or as me abusing alcohol. I mean, it’s socially acceptable. Hell, it’s a right of passage to go out and get plastered on your twenty-first birthday. Every professional sports team has an official beer that they sell at games. That was another thing that I’d never really given much thought to until it had been brought up in group. The tie between drinking and sports. Big money and lots of pressure for young guys—and older guys too—to be the manly man with the forty in his hand and the brat on the grill at the Sunday tailgating gathering.
Even here, at the local rink where kids played, the nearby beer distributor had a large ad on the boards. Maybe I should bring this up at my meeting tomorrow night. I’d not said much over two weeks. I’d writt
en a lot in my journal but saying it out loud wasn’t in my wheelhouse. Zinkan men didn’t discuss things like emotions. Zinkan men didn’t cry. Zinkan men buried that shit deep because military men were real men not pansy-ass queers who—
Nate, let’s not go there. Pay attention to the scrimmage.
Right. Put your attention on the players and not the advertisement for a cold six-pack. I ignored the ocular knives a few hockey moms were throwing my way and focused on the kids. A big hit took place in the corner. I hooted at the aggressive play. Will clapped for the defense. The kid who was on his ass got a little hot about being upended by a girl, but as soon as that shit started I shut it down. I might just be an advisor but sexist, racist, gay, or transphobic crap drew some instant ire from me and Coach Dickenson. Maybe my gay was another reason for some of the stink eyes from the mom squad.
“Nate, did you see that?!”
I smiled down at Jane, the sole girl on the Pony defense, and bumped her gloved hand with my bare knuckles.
“That was a perfect hip check. Well delivered and clean. Working the corners is super important. Did you all see that once Jane got Mark off the puck her teammate picked up the puck and got a quality scoring chance?” They all nodded, even Mark with the bruised ego. “That’s what will win you games. Playing hard but clean and knowing where your teammates are on the ice.”
“Okay, kids, it’s time to go shower. Remember we’re playing Friday night. Please make sure you have your equipment and are on time. Danny, make sure you don’t leave your mask at band practice!” Will shouted as the team skated to the bench to slap on some blade guards and head to the locker room.
“I remember once when I was in midget I showed up for practice with one skate and a banana,” I told Will as we skated off to join the kids leaving the ice. Men’s summer league were due in next and the Zamboni was already crawling through the open doors to resurface the ice.
“What was the banana for?” Will asked, handing me my blade covers as he slid his on.
“Energy?”
Will laughed aloud and gave me a slap on the arm. “Where was your gear?”
“Home in the corner. I’d totally wigged on practice that day. I think I had some kind of test going on and was zoned in on that. Needless to say, my ass was on the bench that day.”
“Well at least you had a snack,” Will teased.
“Could we have a word with you two?” Will and I looked up to see three women in coats and crocheted hats glaring down at us. I heard Will exhale so I braced myself for the complaints to rain down on us.
“Of course, Janice,” Will replied and waved at the chute leading to the bowels of the rink. “Meet us at the coffee and hot chocolate stand?”
“That’s fine.” The three women climbed down from their seats.
“Christ above.” Will sighed and shook his head.
“It’s cool. I’ve been expecting it. Let’s just go hear them out.”
The threesome was waiting for us outside the only food and drink kiosk in the rink. Scouts and parents ran it. My new Bauer skates hanging over my left shoulder, I nodded at the trio of uneasy women then went to order some hot chocolate, Will at my side. When we had our drinks, we went to face the music.
“Okay, Janice, what’s the issue this time?” Will asked as he blew over his drink.
“Before we get into things we just want you to know that we’re fully behind gay rights and rehabilitation for those who have addiction problems,” Janice opened with, her friends nodding but not daring to say such things right to my face. Maybe they were scared to be the one to sound like a smacked ass.
“But…” I supplied for her before taking a loud slurp of painfully hot chocolate.
Her eyes darted away from me for a moment. “But we’re not comfortable with a young man who has been convicted of two drinking and driving offenses working with our children. It’s nothing personal, Mr. Zinkan, we just don’t think you’re a suitable role model.”
“The courts disagree, Janice,” Will said with way more patience than I’d have shown. “Judge Cavanaugh has personally backed Nate’s participation in this program.”
“Well, I don’t think he’s a suitable mentor,” she snapped then leaned to the side to listen to woman two, a pudgy brunette, whispering in her ear. “There’s also the issue of locker rooms.”
I looked at Will and shrugged. He was as lost as I was. We both stared at Janice with confusion.
She pursed her lips then spilled the nasty old bullshit beans. “As we said, we’re fully behind gay marriage and all that but to have a homosexual in the locker room with young boys is—”
My mouth opened to retaliate but Will beat me to it. The man was incensed. He lit into Janice and her bigoted backers with both barrels blazing. I stood there blowing and sipping cocoa with tiny marshmallows, a smile on my lips, as Will came unglued. The rant lasted a good five minutes. It was glorious to behold.
“…owe not only Nate but every gay man out there an apology!” He barked so loudly at the women that it echoed down the quiet cement corridor. I cocked an eyebrow at Janice.
“We’re sorry if we offended you or any other gay people in any way. We were just concerned about our children,” she said, her cheeks as red as the woolen mittens she wore.
“Apology accepted. Maybe you should actually read or get to know a gay man before you accept lies and hate so readily.” Janice and I locked gazes. She nodded, mumbling something and slinking off with her now shamefaced followers.
Will turned to face me. “I am so incredibly sorry for people like that, Nate.”
“Meh, it’s nothing new. You should hear some of the shit hurled at me during games. One time at an away game some joker tossed a tutu at me.”
“Oh Christ,” Will moaned and slapped his palm over his face.
“Nah, it was cool. I picked it up, stepped into it, and wore it all through warmups.” I chuckled and nudged his elbow with mine. “Everyone in the stands booed him but cheered me. I did look pretty spank in that pink tutu.”
“My God, I don’t know how you can handle that kind of hatred with so much class,” Will stated as we began walking down the hall to the locker rooms. “I wish I had your decorum. The sad thing is that Janice and I are teachers at the middle school. I knew she had some issues with you, and I assumed it was solely the drinking situation. I never knew she was so homophobic.”
“Misinformation leads to fear,” I said as we neared the men’s locker room. “Just to avoid any shit, I’ll stay clear of the dressing rooms. I’m only an advisor anyway so I can chill out here.”
“You shouldn’t have to linger in the hall like a criminal.”
“Well, I kind of am, man.” I smiled and lifted a shoulder. Will frowned but after a bit of gentle coercion, gave in and let me chill in the hall until the Ponies were leaving. At the front door I rapped knuckles with each player exiting the rink. Jane gave me a quick hug then dashed outside into the heat to meet her father. I watched from this side of the glass door as her father smiled and talked to her animatedly about her game. I’d seen him in the stands, away from the small Janice clique, with other parents who weren’t assholes. He made a face when he smelled her gear bag, and I laughed into my nearly empty cup of hot chocolate. Jacob used to do the same thing when he’d pick me up. I missed him. So much sometimes it got hard to see right. Turning from the father/child moment in the parking lot, I drank the last dregs of my drink, lobbed the cup into the trash, and left through the side door. There were no Hallmark family times happening over on this side of the rink. There was just a dumpster and a bus stop sign and those didn’t generally make me feel things best left unfelt.
Chapter Eight
I looked at the Volkswagen van with some mild trepidation.
“Not to be an ass or anything…” I said to Maggie sitting behind the wheel, “but has this thing been inspected since sixty-nine?”
“You’re always an ass, Nate, that’s why I love you. Secondly, it was
inspected two months ago and she’s fit as Ian Anderson’s flute!”
“I have no idea who that is.”
“How sad for you,” the old woman sighed.
I gave the lime green van a closer look. There was some rust on the side door. I wondered if the brakes were good or the exhaust. Maybe if I just dropped down and gave the underbelly a quick look I’d—
Maggie hit the horn. I jumped in fright and dropped my bag of chips to the street. “Not funny,” I grumbled as I scooped up my dish to pass.
“I thought it was,” Maggie cackled. “Get in. We’re burning gas.”
I glanced up the street but not a city bus was to be seen. Didn’t matter anyway. I’d scoured the mass transit websites and nothing ran out to where Bran lived, which was way past Sunflower Acres, on a little plot of about five acres.
“Hey, look, seatbelts,” I said after I’d climbed in and dropped down on the well-used seat. “Holy shit, look at that stereo.”
“That came with her.” Maggie patted the steering wheel affectionately. “There’s been lots of good times in this van.” I threw the rear a fast look. Shag carpeting on the floor, a bench seat covered with hemp blankets and funky fringed pillows. Flower power type curtains on the windows and an old acoustic guitar resting on a padded mat under a huge dreamcatcher. “Lots of good times on that pull-out bench too. One time me and this hippie beauty named Mona were—”
“Whoa, just, no. Wait. Did you say Mona?” I asked as she shifted into gear and we rolled smoothly from the curb.
“What? You kids think you’re the first ones to ever experiment with sexuality?”
“Can I adopt you?”
“Sure you can,” she said then slid her sunglasses into place and tucked the flowing edges of her caftan under her skinny legs. “You’ll have to come clean my gutters in the fall. That’s part of the grandmother adoption pact.”
“Done,” I said with a grin. The ride was bumpy, and I had to be given a lesson on who that Ian guy with the flute was. The radio was scratchy, fading in and out on occasion, and Maggie tended to grind gears here and there, but we made it to Bran’s place without any parts falling off the van or the driver.
