by Mia Kerick
He looked at me, totally dismayed, as if I’d stomped on his pet gerbil.
“I need to know, Tris, do you have any… any kind of feelings for me? Because I, uh, I’ve never thought of myself as gay but I, uh, you….”
I had to wait almost a full minute for his answer, which nearly killed me. Then he stopped, placed his hand lightly on my forearm, and said in a quiet voice, “Don’t worry, Robby. You’re not alone in your feelings.” Tristan picked up the pace of our walk, almost like if he could walk fast enough, he could escape what he was about to say. But after a deep breath, he continued. “I feel more for you than I ever imagined I could feel for a man, than I ever wanted to feel for a man. It’s just that I need time. Give me some time. Please.” By the time he said that last part, Tristan was at least three paces ahead of me, but I still managed to make out his words.
WE MANAGED to survive dinner without having another heart-to-heart, which suited both of us very well. When we finally got back to Tristan’s apartment, we were greeted quite affably by Savannah. If this was any other evening, and Savannah was any other woman, that warm glow in her eyes would have suggested that my night’s fun was far from over. But this was Savannah, who was, indeed, the current woman in my life, but I had just spent a surprisingly satisfying day with her roommate, or, I supposed you could call him, our boyfriend. I had absolutely no idea how to read her, or this situation, for that matter.
Before Tristan spoke, I noticed a brief hesitation, as if he was working and reworking his thought in his brain before he trusted it to come out of his mouth. Come to think of it, this was not the first time I’d noticed a slight hesitation before he spoke. But at the moment, I was just barely surviving the ride, so I tucked that little observation into a pocket in the back of my brain to analyze later when I was alone. “Savi, I understand football now.”
That was the sentiment he’d struggled to force from his mouth? That he now understood the ins and outs of the game of football? Is he for real?
“Oh, Tristan.” I stood there watching in complete shock as Savannah embraced him like he was a soldier returning from war. “That’s wonderful! I’m so happy for you!”
And Tristan, well, he appeared quite overwhelmed with emotion at that point. Politely, he excused himself, offering me only a shy sideways glance, and retreated to the bedroom.
Once the bedroom door closed, Savannah turned her attention back to me. Before I knew it, it was my turn in her arms. She held me tight, both hands squeezing my shoulders. “Thank you, Robby. Thank you so much.”
I found myself at a loss for words, but when I was with Savannah and Tristan, that wasn’t exactly an unusual occurrence. “W-why? Why are you thanking me?”
Savannah let go of me, stepped back, and then looked up into my eyes with such appreciation, as if I was her own personal superhero. “You gave him something I never could. Robby, you gave Tristan back a piece of his childhood, a little part of himself.” And suddenly I was in her arms again, and she was crying and murmuring words of gratefulness.
As soon as she loosened her hold on me, I made my move toward the door. Leaving now, after having had such a great day with Tristan, and with Savannah so pleased, seemed like the right thing to do. Who was I to tempt fate? “Would you tell Tris that I had a great time today?”
“Of course.” She looked back down the hall as if she expected Tristan to come up behind her and say good-bye for himself, but the only one there was that enormous black cat. When she turned back to me, her eyes were a little puffy and her lips were trembling as she said, “It’s the three of us now.”
Chapter 13
Robby
MIKEY swept into the office, thankfully relieving me of my jumbled thoughts regarding my jumbled love life. “Hey, Mikey. Were we the low bidder on the library addition?”
“Yes, boss-man. That baby is ours! We just hafta draw up the paperwork and get everybody’s John Hancocks on it.” He smirked, pleased with himself. I had always admired Mikey’s youthful enthusiasm, even when I didn’t agree with what he was enthusiastic about.
“And thanks to your Great Uncle Tony, you’re going to be getting a hefty bonus.” I could smirk too, and I proved it.
“How ’bout we hit the Nines Club tonight and celebrate? We haven’t gotten wasted together in way too long, huh?” He came around my desk and slapped me hard on the back. “And then we can pick up some babes and have some horizontal celebration, what do ya think?”
I hesitated. “I’m seeing someone, Mikey.”
“Holy shit!” Mikey grabbed at his heart dramatically. “Tell me you didn’t fall for that fag hag?”
“Christ, Mikey. I never said I’d fallen for anybody, and I also never said that Tristan was gay.” I was quick to set Mikey straight on both accounts. However, I felt like I was lying to him and, strangely, to myself, which probably meant something.
“But ya aren’t up for some no-strings-attached sex, so that means ya must have it bad for this chick, Sava-a-annah, right?” He looked at me with pity. “No more screwing around for you?”
I shook my head. Mikey had no idea how far off the mark he was. Well, except for the screwing around part. I didn’t see much screwing around at all in my near future.
“I guess that leaves more girls for me to screw.” He shrugged and then nodded to himself like it made sense.
I cringed at Mikey’s crudeness, something I had accepted as a benign part of his personality until recently. Since I’d gotten to know Savannah and Tristan, I was somehow losing my tolerance for his overly loose tongue; it was just so disrespectful. “I thought I’d take Savannah to dinner tonight, but I’m sure you’ll have enough fun at the club for both of us.”
“Bring her,” he said, looking squarely into my eyes as if it was a challenge. “Bring her to the Nines tonight.”
“Well, I don’t know, she may have class in the morning and—”
“I ain’t gonna take no for an answer, my man.” After wedging himself between my desk and the chair I was sitting on, Mikey dropped his ass on my desk with a hard plop. “You bring smoking Savannah and I promise to try and behave myself. Deal?”
All I needed was for Mikey to get a load of us on our very first public date as a threesome and all hell would break loose. I’d never get a moment’s peace and quiet again. And knowing Mikey the way I knew him, he’d go straight to my father with the big news. Then my entire life would come crashing down around me.
“I’ll mention it to her, okay? If she wants to go, we’ll stop over.”
Mikey stood up and stepped right into my face, close enough so that I could smell the vanilla hazelnut creamer in his coffee breath. “Be there at nine sharp, and you’d better show up, asshole. We ain’t gonna let no bitch come between us, right?” He glared at me in warning, and then headed out the door, saying, “Time for Mr. Numbers to put on his realtor’s hat.”
It looked like I was going to have to call Savannah and Tristan to see if they liked to dance.
I ARRIVED at precisely nine o’clock, ever obedient to my good buddy, Mikey, accompanied by Savannah, who looked hotter than a girl had a right to. Tristan was planning to come over and meet us after work. Tonight should prove to be interesting. I fought an urge to chew on my fingernails.
Instead, I took Savannah’s hand and led her through the darkness to the lounge area near the bar where I knew Mikey and his crowd would be hanging out. The very second Mikey caught a glimpse of Savannah all dressed up like a Barbie doll, he was practically on top of her. And since Savannah was an unpredictable blend of sassy and sweet, all I could do was cross my fingers and hope for the best.
The Nines Club was really nothing but an enormous renovated warehouse space, not too far from Michael’s on the Waterfront, divided into six separate rooms, each presenting different musical themes ranging from alternative rock to the Blues. There was a huge square bar in the center of the building, with low couches and chairs surrounding it, that served as a sort of common area, but in
my experience it was simply the best place in the house for the guys to scope out the girls. Savannah somehow managed to blend perfectly into the dark, sultry atmosphere, while simultaneously standing out with her eclectic and eye-catching style. Tonight, the focal point of her outfit was her tall black equestrian-looking boots, which she wore with lacy black leggings, a snug-fitting white tank, and what looked like a riding jacket hanging loosely off of her bare shoulders.
“All’s your gal needs ’s a crop, huh, Robby?” Mikey, as expected, spoke loud enough for Savannah to “accidentally” overhear, which wasn’t an easy task to accomplish since the walls themselves were vibrating from the earsplitting volume of the music. “I take it one of you is in for a bumpy ride tonight.” He looked back and forth from me to Savannah and made some clip-clopping horse noises with his tongue and then a cracking of a whip sound, which made me want to fade right into the sticky floorboards.
I knew people tended to judge you by the company you kept, and Mikey had been pretty much the one constant friend in my life since before high school. I also knew it was well past time to ask myself what that fact said about Robby Dalton. That disturbing concept started me off in a tailspin of worry about the conclusions Savannah would very likely draw about me when she got the complete picture of her “boyfriend’s” BFF, Michael Joseph DeSalvo. But what could I do about it now?
Since it was a Thursday night, Ladies Drink Free Night at the Nines, I was hopeful that there would be a high enough female population traipsing around the club to distract Mikey’s attention from my official “hot chick” of a girlfriend and me—oh, and Tristan, of course. Placing my hand tentatively on her waist, I directed Savannah toward Mikey’s gang, who were sprawled out all around the left side of the bar. Mikey followed close behind us. He pushed on her shoulder a bit to turn her in his direction. “Name’s Savannah, huh?” He clearly wasn’t finished with us yet.
“I was about to officially introduce you. Mikey DeSalvo, meet Savannah Meyers. And Savannah, this is Mikey, an old friend.” Who I probably should have left in my dust somewhere along my path from high school to this very moment, but apparently I’d been too lazy to put myself out there and make new friends. I thought it best to keep that convoluted thought to myself.
Mikey was dressed in his usual all-black—snug dress pants and a clingy, silk T-shirt, his stereotypical heavy Italian chest hair poking up from its V-neck. Not being into the club scene like he was, I’d just stayed in the white oxford shirt and Dockers I’d worn to work. Mikey reached out and grabbed my shirt by the right side of its collar and yanked on it a few times. “This here preppy look was the best you could come up wit’ for a night on the town, Rob? You need to loosen up; get yaself some style.”
In response, Savannah raised her hand and placed it delicately on my left shoulder. She directed her stormy ocean eyes at Mikey’s jet black ones, but leaned in and spoke to me, loud enough for him to “accidentally” overhear. “You are by far the best-looking man here, Robby.” I could practically taste the venom in her voice; the compliment was actually a poison dart, aimed squarely at Mikey’s heart. Like many of the other women we had encountered through the years, Savannah had apparently acquired an instant dislike for my dear old friend.
Not one to be trumped, Mikey chuckled, his fingers still wrapped around my collar, “If you think he’s a man, you should take a ride on the Italian Stallion.” Then he let go of my shirt so he could gesture grandly toward his own crotch with both hands.
The withering glare Savannah sent in Mikey’s direction would have made a lesser man weep. So what did Mikey choose to do to encourage his best pal’s new girlfriend to warm up to him? The man stuck an arm out, sunk his fingers right into her golden mane, lifted a few strands to press against his lips, and then, between his teeth: “Bite me, Savannah.”
I didn’t know which one of them to gape at first, but I felt Savannah shudder against me. She said rather curtly, “I’m going to the bar. I’ll get you a beer, Robby.”
As we watched her walk away, Mikey said, “That went well, don’t ya think?”
I MANAGED to keep the two of them apart for the next hour. After apologizing profusely for Mikey’s bad behavior, I asked Savannah to dance, and we actually started to have fun. I honestly could have watched her dance forever. The way she swayed her shoulders and rolled her hips had me rather habitually thinking about dragging her outside to the parking lot for a short make-out session in my Jeep. But then I saw an image of Tristan’s beautiful brown eyes in my head and all I wanted to do with Savannah was dance. It was nice, it was fun, and it was enough.
A little after ten, I suggested to Savannah that we stop dancing and order Tristan a drink so it would be ready and waiting for him when he arrived.
“He’d like that.” She bestowed upon me an expression so pleased that it bordered on pure delight. I felt my face heat. Getting my date’s other date a beer was really no big deal, just common courtesy. It was the least I could do.
While we waited for Tristan’s beer—I was informed that he preferred an American light beer by the woman who certainly knew him best—I noticed that Savannah’s eyes were no longer planted squarely on mine, as they had been for the past hour while we’d danced. Now they shifted back and forth from me to the club’s entrance. Savannah was obviously anticipating Tristan’s arrival with great eagerness. And she wasn’t alone—I also was having trouble concentrating, knowing that his arrival was imminent. I tried not to analyze that too much.
“You’re watching the door for him, Savannah.”
She nodded. “I miss him. But there are three of us now. So I plan to watch plenty of doors in the future for you too.” Savannah smiled wide and then stood on her tiptoes to give me a quick kiss. And naturally, that was when Tristan came up behind us.
A soft hand brushed against my forearm. I jerked around to be faced with Tristan, and immediately felt guilty for having been caught in the act. But when I looked at his face, I saw it was serene. “Hey, Robby, Savi. Sorry I’m a little bit late.”
Savannah moved fluidly from my arms to Tristan’s and embraced him deliberately, as I’d come to expect. I waited for a wave of jealousy to surge forth, unsure as to whether it would rear its ugly head at Tristan or Savannah, but it didn’t come. Instead, I just felt happy that Tristan was here with us now. Strange.
“No, Tris, you’re not late at all, and you certainly weren’t forgotten.” I handed him his beer and said, “We were waiting for you.”
Although it was very dark in the bar, I could tell he was blushing. I already recognized the way he handled embarrassment: he dipped his head down and to the side, and then ran his fingers through his hair a time or two.
“I had to take a few minutes to wash up and change before I left work, or I’d still smell like baked stuffed haddock.” He dropped his head and did the hair thing again.
Leaning against his side, I said right into his ear, “Well, I wouldn’t have minded that at all. I love seafood.” Oh God, am I flirting with him?
Tristan did the head dip and hair rub again; I guess three times was a charm because at that point, I wanted badly to run my own hand through his hair. So I did the next best thing I could come up with; I placed my hands on Tristan and Savannah’s lower backs and guided them to some couches in a corner where we could catch up.
Savannah and I sat on a sleek, velvety black couch and Tristan sat diagonally across from us in a shiny leather chair, just like how we’d sat in their living room. He looked sleek and classy in a fitted gray V-neck sweater and dark narrow jeans.
“So, Tris, you were up from bed and out the door early this morning.” Savannah’s comment did not make me feel as uncomfortable as it should have.
“Yeah, I’ve been trying to get to the gym early in the morning before I start thinking of all the other things I should be doing with my time.”
“Where do you work out?” This was my type of conversation; talking about gyms was like speaking in my native language
.
“One of those fitness chains opened a gym right down the street from our place that only charges like eleven dollars a month. I go there as much as I can,” he said dully.
“You don’t sound too thrilled with it.”
Savannah piped up. “Tris gets bored just staring at the gym walls when he works out. He’d rather play some kind of game, or be outside and actually get somewhere when he exercises.”
I had the perfect solution. I looked across the coffee table at those stunning tilted eyes, their sensuality only enhanced by the darkness. “Then I’m gonna take you to my gym as a guest this weekend. We can play basketball, and there are racquetball courts, and even a couple of tennis courts. There’s a pool too. And plenty of weight machines and free weights. I won’t let you get bored. Don’t worry about that, buddy!”
Savannah and Tristan both stared at me, their mouths forming matching O shapes.
Shit! I shouldn’t have assumed he’d want to stay in shape in the same ways I did. “Only if you want to, I mean, if you like your own gym, then….”
“No, no, that’d be the greatest thing. The greatest thing ever.” He leaned over the coffee table, as if to get nearer to me. “But I’m not a great basketball player, not at all. I know as much about basketball as I knew about football before you taught me.” He did that head drop/hair rub thing again.
This guy had missed out on more growing up than I’d realized. “Well, then, you’re going to learn the game of basketball by playing it, not just by watching it. We’ll have fun.”
