by JD Hawkins
Even when he’s not there, spending time at Mandala makes me understand so much more about him. The way they never seem to judge anyone or anything, the way they can hear the wildest, craziest stories and not bat an eyelid. The general atmosphere of non-judgmental, easygoing acceptance of life’s problems and strangeness, and the self-assurance that comes from finally overcoming so much of it. The way Kayla treats Teo like an older brother, and the way customers treat him like some kind of rock star. I feel like I get it, finally. I get why Teo finally stopped running, now that he has this. Everyone around him so fiercely loyal, everything he does so passionately dedicated—as if anything less than this wouldn’t be worth sticking around for.
In a funny kind of way, my own life seems to start making sense, too. Like Teo was some final piece of the puzzle, and I can look at the bigger picture now. I don’t get off work and spend hours twisting myself in knots about it still. I don’t have that insidious sense of resentment for myself when I realize I’m not quite where I want to be in my career. The bills and responsibilities, Candace holding me back and Carlos treating me like his PA, they don’t take the spotlight in my thoughts anymore, they’re no longer the center of my life. And when they do start to get under my skin, a little time with Teo is all I need to forget it all.
Even with everything going so well, though, I still feel the weight of some nagging thought, like a chore that needs to be done. That question I know Teo is afraid I’ll ask again. It looms sometimes, in the silences, and even though I’m quick to change the mood, the subject—to let him know I’m in no rush to ask—there’s a sense of inevitability about it. Despite what he said that night in the alley, about the truth hurting us and doing irreparable damage. Because if we’re going to be together, he needs to tell me. No matter how bad it is, how hurt I might feel, I know we can get through it. He just needs to come clean.
Not now, though. For now this is too good to risk, too good to ruin.
He takes me down to Long Beach, and we barely say a word as we get off the bike, slipping off our shoes and taking each other’s hand to draw a slow path of scuffed steps across the sand, lazily gazing out to take in the ocean and each other. There’s always plenty to talk about, but we know we have plenty of time.
Eventually, Teo asks, “How’s work? You still filming stuff on your own?”
“Yeah, I am,” I sigh.
“Is there a problem?”
“No… Well…you remember it was about that yoga studio that all the celebrities love, right?”
“Of course. You told me all about it last week.”
She bites her lip before continuing. “Well, I was supposed to get some interviews with some of the celebs—you know, really make the segment sensational. It’s great as it is, but to really get the guys at Hollywood Night to sit up and take notice, I need some big names. The problem is, they’ve all fallen through. Dylan Marlowe and Gwen Rubens are filming up in Canada for the next few months. Michael Deore’s publicist is advising him not to do it, and Kristy Monte keeps saying she’s unsure until I get other confirmations. The only celebrity I have now is Sam Jennings.”
“Who’s Sam Jennings?”
I look up at him with dismay.
“Exactly.”
“Damn,” Teo says, putting an arm around me and pulling me to him sympathetically.
“Yeah,” I say. “At the end of the day, it just means I have to wait a little longer for the schedules to sync up. And I know it’ll come together. I just…want to get it going, you know?”
“Yeah. But I’m sure it’ll pay off in the end. Maybe you can film some of your other ideas in the meantime.”
“I’m going to,” I say, nodding with determination. “For sure.”
We walk on a little further, between the shrieking kids playing in the surf and the lazy chatter from the sunbathers. Feet covered in sand now, Teo takes my hand and leads me to where the waves push and pull, so our toes sink into the wet sand, water massaging our calves beneath our rolled-up jeans.
“Oh, hey,” I say, suddenly remembering. “Are you free this Saturday?”
Teo squints at the sun as he thinks for a moment.
“Yeah. I think I am. Gotta put in a few hours at the shop, but I’ll be done by four.”
“You like barbecue, right?”
Teo spins me around to face him, his hands pushing back hair from the side of my face.
“The word alone makes me wanna bite something,” he says, playfully swooping on my neck as I try to fend him off.
“Good,” I say, wrapping my arms around his waist and looking up at him. “My sister is having a get-together at her place this weekend and I thought we could go. It’ll be fun.”
Teo’s playfulness disappears almost instantly, turning into a wincing withdrawal as he pulls away from me.
“Aah…I’m not so sure about that,” he says, reluctantly.
“What? It’s just a barbecue, Teo.”
“I know…but…”
“Come on! It’s just my sister—well, and some of my family.”
He grimaces. “Your dad?”
I shake my head and try to smile reassuringly. I understand Teo’s reservations, but this is really important to me. “No, he’s in NYC this month, helping some senator with a bill or something.”
“I never really knew your sister,” he muses.
“Right, so there’s no weird history between you. Nothing to be afraid of. It’d be a good first step for you...for us.”
“Eh…”
“She’s celebrating the third-year anniversary of being elected mayor. It’ll be fun. Food, booze,” I stroke his arm and smile mischievously, “a big house with lots of empty rooms if we wanna get away for a bit…”
Teo’s smile looks like it’s pasted on, and he rubs the back of his neck like he’s trying to remove a shackle from it.
“Politicians and all that…I wouldn’t even know what to talk about. It just doesn’t really sound like my kind of scene, Ash. I’d only draw attention to myself—and away from you having a good time with your family.”
I glare at him for a few seconds, then exhale.
“You think Mandala was my kind of scene?” I say, sounding more annoyed than I want to. “Tattoo artists and rock stars? Runaways and transplants? Where all the stories involve brushes with the law and living broke? Christ, I don’t even have a tattoo myself! You think I didn’t feel like an outsider when I first met your friends?”
“That’s different.”
“How? Because they were your friends?”
“Because they’re open-minded, they’re cool with everyone,” Teo says, then frowns a little. “I thought you liked hanging out there, with them?”
“I do—that’s the point. I gave your ‘world’ a chance, and I liked it. It made me feel closer to you. Why can’t you do the same for me?”
His jaw tightens. “I came to your work drinks, didn’t I?”
“For all of about two minutes. During which you got in a fight with my boss and probably made my relationship with her go from bad to worse.”
“It’s not my fault your boss pounced on me like a cougar in heat.”
Teo shakes his head, his hands clenching a little with the anxiety of what I’m asking him. I look away, the happy kids playing in the waves now seeming a little farther away, the waves brushing against our ankles now a little irritating.
“Is this what it’s always going to be like, Teo? You want me to keep you a secret? Hide you away from my family just like we used to?”
“Of course not.”
“Then what is it?”
Teo heaves a big breath that puffs his chest out, then shrugs a little.
“I just figured we’d spend a little more time like this, enjoying each other, before we start doing the whole ‘family’ thing. This is good, right now—why risk putting all this weight on it?”
I laugh sadly, shaking my head as I turn away, unable to look at him as he says these things.
&nbs
p; “My mistake,” I say to the ocean. “Maybe I got a little ahead of myself—maybe I’m a little more into this than you are. I thought we were a couple. Adults in an actual relationship.”
“Ash,” Teo says, stepping in front of me and putting his hands on my arms. “How can you even say that? We’re in this. Together.”
“How can we be when all it takes is a barbecue at my sister’s for you to start pulling back? Is that how fragile all of this really is?”
“Come on, Ash. This is ridiculous. It’s no big deal. I just don’t wanna go to some dumb barbecue.”
My eyes narrow in anger, and I see in Teo’s shifting gaze that he regrets saying that.
“Dumb?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean that.”
“Dumb,” I say, nodding.
“I shouldn’t have said it. You’ve backed me into a corner—”
“No. It’s good to know where you’re at.”
“Ash…”
“You know what this feels like, Teo?” I say, slowing down to make sure he hears me. “It feels like you making sure you don’t get in too deep. Like you’re keeping the exit doors open. You know, ever since that first night I spent at your place, I thought there was something…I don’t know, something you were holding back.”
“That’s nothing to do with you. That’s just…just another problem on my mind.”
I nod.
“Another problem you won’t tell me about. Another problem that you want to keep all boxed up in your separate little world.”
“Ash,” Teo says, moving closer now with determination, putting his hands on the sides of my face so he can look me straight in the eyes, forcing me to see the honesty in his own, “this is crazy. I’ll come. I didn’t know it meant this much to you, that’s all. I’ll come, I’ll wear a nice shirt, I’ll drink my beer out of a glass and eat my burger with a fork for you. Ok?”
I look at him and smile politely, but I wonder whether he can really brush it off so easily. It was always so simple for me and Teo to just be together, hanging out, doing things together, being intimate…but through all those years of high school I would sometimes wonder how it would be when we faced the world, actually existing in public as a couple. I’d struggle to imagine introducing Teo to my friends, my family, and having him fit in well. Too much of a loner, too comfortable playing by his own rules.
And what if he can’t?
“You know…maybe you shouldn’t…” I say, then stop myself. “Never mind.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” I say, nodding slowly. “I’m sure it’ll be great.”
But as he takes me in his arms again, I can’t help praying I’m not horribly wrong.
16
Teo
We take Ash’s car to her sister’s—partly because I don’t want to ride my bike there and partly because Ash couldn’t wear the tight, yellow dress that drives me wild. So wild that I fuck her in it twice before we finally get going—the first time ‘cause she looks so good, the second because I still don’t feel great about going.
I feel like I’m being driven to jail as the imposing white structure looms up at the end of the long road.
“There it is,” Ash says.
“I thought you said it was a house?”
“It is.”
“That’s not a house. That’s a mansion.”
Ash laughs, then looks from the road to me.
“Relax,” she says, reaching over to squeeze my thigh. “It’s gonna be fun. Just think about barbecue. We don’t have to stay for the whole thing.”
I shrug and look back at the large entrance, intricate wrought iron gates wide open. We pass through and Ash guides the car down a driveway long and wide enough to land a small passenger jet. She stops in front and before I can open my door, the dark-suited valet has it open for me.
“Good day, sir,” he says as I get out, feeling awkward for not opening my own door, and for being called ‘sir’ for the first time in my life.
“Cheers, buddy,” I say, feeling suddenly like I’m in a movie, surrounded by people acting parts, reading from scripts.
I’m still taking in the giant mansion, as white as bedsheets, when the car spins away and Ash comes up behind me to lock her arm in mine.
“Impressive, huh?” she says.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “Does anyone actually live here?”
Ash laughs and pats my chest.
“Only my sister, her husband, their three kids, and the help.”
“The help?” I say, turning a shocked face to her.
“Yeah. The nanny, the housekeeper. A chef—though he doesn’t actually live there.”
I stare at her, waiting for her nonchalant face to break into a smile and for her to tell me it’s a joke, that she’s just playing on my preconceptions. Except she doesn’t, and I feel some part of me sink even lower.
A guy in a white suit gestures for us to walk around the building toward the back, and I struggle to find some sense of reality in the clusters of well-dressed people around us. This is nothing at all like the laid-back, casual backyard barbecues I’m used to.
The men are all stiff and upright—even the portly ones. There’s not a t-shirt in sight, and I’m glad I listened to Ash when she suggested I wear a button down shirt. They carry themselves with confidence, the arrogance of money and power. Not so much swagger, but a stiff, raised head as if looking down their noses at everything in front of them. Listening to each other’s stories with a deadness behind the eyes, a distant judgment of everything around them. The weirdest thing is how they all look the same, no matter how old or young, like the same man at different stages of his life.
The women are the only color around, and as if compensating for the blandness of the men, they seem to make themselves look larger than life. Ruffles on skirts, wide-brimmed hats, unnecessarily flashy jewelry. Dressed in lurid pinks and greens, voices articulate and assured enough to ring like crystal, flinty, forced laughs that pierce the atmosphere like sirens. Faces made up to look constantly emotive, constantly engaged, even though their eyes scrutinize everything as if it’s happening a million miles away.
“Oh my God. There’s like a million people here,” Ash gasps beside me. I just nod.
I overhear conversations filled with small talk, short and brief, as if people are exchanging headlines, name dropping people I’ve never heard of, words that mean things I don’t know, a secret code as tight and exclusive as street slang.
Unconsciously, I start to roll down my shirt-sleeves.
“What are you doing?” Ash asks, noticing.
I look down at my arm as if surprised myself.
“I’m the only guy here with tattoos…” I say.
“So? Your arms are great. You don’t have to hide.”
I shrug half-heartedly and continue to pull the sleeves down.
“I know…I just don’t want it to be the first thing people talk to me about,” I say, as if I’m even considering entering into a conversation with any of these people.
Finally, we get around the house, stepping onto a gigantic lawn that feels like it’s the size of a football field, grass as perfectly clean and deep as a fine rug. A gigantic stone fountain stands in the middle, a string quartet playing in front of it. There must be a hundred people here, mingling in tight groups, between a couple of long tables filled with food. Waiters in white gliding between them effortlessly, offering giant silver trays to guests.
One approaches us with a tray stacked with wine glasses, and we both take one. Ash smiles at me questioningly.
“Wine?”
“I’ll take whatever they’re handing out right now,” I say, downing the glass like it’s a shot of cheap vodka.
We move into the crowd, and I start thinking about switching to Plan B. Plan A was to find another schmuck who would rather be anywhere but here, another poor guy dragged here by a girlfriend or wife, and then use each other to fend off conversation with anyone else while we get hammered enou
gh to forget the whole thing. But the more I look around me, the more I realize that everyone except me wants to be here. Plan B is to find the grill and be one of the ‘grill guys,’ watching whoever’s turn it is to flip the burgers and sausages. Grill guys don’t need to talk much. Entranced by the meat, hooked by the smell, there’s little room for thinking of anything else. It won’t last, but if I can get to the grill, it’ll be like touching base for now.
Except I don’t see it. All I see are long tables with pastries as detailed and delicate as ornaments, tiny cuts of cheese and meat, sushi and elaborately sculpted vegetables.
“Hey,” I say, getting Ash’s attention from scanning the crowd, “I thought you said this was a barbecue? Where’s the grill?”
“It’s here,” Ash says, looking around, then pointing at a plume of smoke in the distance. “Over there. Grace likes to put the grill far from the guests—you know, so they don’t end up smelling like smoke.”
I look over at the two guys in white chef hats working the grill, so far away it’d take a minute to walk there.
Shit. I didn’t come up with a Plan C.
Suddenly, there’s a scream so shrill it makes me wince, and a stunning woman in a white pantsuit comes barreling toward us like a linebacker for a tackle.
“Ash!” she shouts, arms wide.
“Grace!” Ash screams in reply, as they smash into each other happily, Grace’s wide-brimmed hat flopping about.
Her outfit has a silvery, glittering pattern all across it—to me it looks like the kind of thing a middle-eastern dictator would use for curtains, but then again, this whole place feels like another planet to me.
“I’m so glad you came!” Grace says.
They pull apart, and suddenly Ash’s older sister turns her beaming, political smile to me, offering her hand.
