My voice softened as I walked into my office and said, “You’ll do that for me?”
“What else I got to do? Tell me where your office is.”
“It’s on Collins Avenue on South Beach right off Washington Road.” I sat down, logging on for my e-mail and phone messages. I needed to check my Facebook page, or, as Alex called it, Facecrack.
“Okay, why don’t I pack us a couple bags and pick you up around six?”
Excitement shot through me. The computer said 9:02. Nine hours to go. “That sounds good, Warren.”
“It will be, boo. Just like old times.”
FOURTEEN
Our cozy log cabin overlooking the lake had a stone fireplace, rustic furniture, and exposed beam ceilings. The deck in back overlooked a wooded area and a lake that reflected silvery moonlight.
“Where would you like your food?” asked the room service attendant with curly red hair.
“Put it over there against the sliding glass door,” I said. I could hear water running in the bathroom, so I guessed Warren had decided to take a shower. Maybe there was hope or maybe Warren would remain true to form.
Warren never wanted to be seen sharing a room with me in a hotel. So whenever a member of the hotel staff would come to our room, Warren would suddenly disappear, but I knew he was hiding. Our cabin had two bedrooms, but that didn’t matter to Warren. He was afraid of running into an old football fan or an attendant who would start asking questions.
Now, standing here with the room service guy, I had déjà vu about all my other trips with Warren. Some things about this relationship would never change.
The waiter lifted the silver domes over the plates to show me our dinner. “I have a turkey burger with fries, a club sandwich with coleslaw, and a bottle of Steven Kent pinot noir. Would you like me to open the wine?”
“Sure. Thank you,” I said as I examined the bill. Damn, food and wine were getting so expensive.
The waiter poured wine and offered me a taste. I pulled the glass to my lips, took a sip, then nodded.
“Shall I pour one glass or two?”
“Two.”
I signed the bill and handed it back to the lanky and pale white boi. He looked at the ticket, smiled, and let himself out of the cabin.
I took off my shirt, found my iPod, and picked up my glass of wine. Then I walked onto the deck, closing the sliding door behind me. Nightfall had arrived and a brilliant speckling of stars was hovering over the still lake. The cool night air caressed my neck as I listened to “I’m Gonna Be Ready” by Yolanda Adams. Stretching out on a cushioned lounge chair, I suddenly felt a sense of peace and believed for the first time in a long time that everything was going to be all right, whether Warren was in my life or he wasn’t. Yolanda’s voice had a way of soothing me.
“You gonna sleep out here tonight?” Warren asked. He startled me. I didn’t even hear the door open.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I must have fallen asleep,” I said, sitting up.
“Your food is getting cold.” Warren wore only a pale yellow towel wrapped around the lower part of his body.
“Have you eaten yours yet?”
“I took a few bites.”
I followed Warren to the dining-room table in the living room, where he had placed our meals. The light hanging over the wooden table was made of tree branches and metal, and it cast a soft glow over us. Warren’s sultry gaze locked onto me. I acknowledged his smile with one of my own as I sat across from him and bit into my sandwich. I sipped the warm red wine and suddenly felt like I was on our first sleepover date. Would I get lucky?
As I stared back into Warren’s eyes, he got up from the table, holding his wineglass. Maybe he wanted to get lucky, too. Still, I knew this wasn’t about sex. It was about reestablishing our connection or deciding to move on for real this time.
But he did something very strange. Warren lay down on the pale blue carpet while holding the glass of wine. A sliver of the towel fell open, displaying the left side of his massive thigh.
Then I did something equally strange. I stood, kicked off my sneakers, and dropped my trousers. I picked up my glass of wine and placed it carefully next to Warren. Then I positioned myself next to him. I kissed him on the neck and he grabbed my hand, placing it on his chest with deliberate casualness. I wanted to start with a litany of questions about why we couldn’t make it or give love another try. But I didn’t. Instead I savored the touch of his skin against mine and enjoyed the silence that danced between us.
The moonlight shooting through the sliding glass doors woke us up.
“How did you sleep?” I asked after Warren had rubbed his beautiful hazel eyes for the second time.
“Okay, I guess,” he said in the soft glow of the light over the dining-room table. “I can’t believe we fell asleep out here on the floor, especially when we have that big comfortable bed.”
“Yeah, we did. I guess we both must have been really tired.”
“Or maybe it was the wine,” Warren said, turning on his side to rest on his elbow and gaze at me.
“Yeah, that helped. But it was nice. I’m glad we did this.”
“Are you?” he asked softly.
I loved the way he was looking at me, like I was the only person on the planet who mattered. We felt a million miles away from the world and all its issues.
“Yeah,” I said. “Aren’t you?”
“It was nice to be in your arms again, Bent.”
I turned on my side, resting on my elbow. “So, what’s next?”
He drew his eyebrows together. “What do you mean?”
“The jobs with the new sports channel in Miami,” I said, as if there were obviously nothing else to discuss. “Have you decided to take it?”
His tone was cool. “I’m thinking about it.”
“Does the fact that I’m here increase those chances?”
He shook his head. “Bent, I don’t want to come in and mess up your life again.”
Annoyance hardened my voice as I asked, “Who said you messed up my life?”
“I know I did.”
“Warren, I’m a trouper. I know nothing is promised when it comes to gay relationships.”
He looked annoyed. “Don’t say gay.”
“Why not, Warren?” I shot back. “That’s what it is.”
“Why can’t you just say, we chill with each other? The term ‘gay’ makes my skin feel creepy. You know I don’t see myself that way.”
“And if your Facebook page is any indication,” I snapped, “you don’t want the world to see you that way, either. You have more pretty women ‘friends’ on there than the Miss America pageant, Miss Universe, and Miss U.S.A. combined.”
Anger burned in Warren’s eyes. “You’re there.”
“Yeah, but you ain’t callin’ me boo when you send me a message,” I accused. “They call it Facebook for a reason. It’s the face you’re showing the world. It’s fake. It’s a grown-up playground where you can pretend and perpetrate—”
“Stop!” Warren’s deep voice boomed through the silent cabin. “You wanna hang with Warren Stubbs? Then don’t say gay. Don’t think it, speak it, nothin’.”
“And just forget you’re layin’ next to me butt naked under that towel, right?” I crossed my arms. My whole body was hot inside as annoyed thoughts shot through my mind.
Suddenly, lying here on the damn floor of this cabin didn’t feel so cozy. All the frustrations and anger that I had felt years ago with Warren came rushing back. And I felt just as cold as I sounded. “So is that why you were at the party?”
His eyes took on a different expression, like he was trying to make me believe the lie that he was telling himself. “Bent, I was at the party because it was a way for me to make contacts. I still, at some point, plan to get married and have kids. I’ve always been up-front with you about that.”
I sat up and glared down at him. “So what you’re saying is that at some point in your life, there won’t be room for me. Is t
hat what you’re trying to say, Warren?” I hated that this conversation was suddenly sounding like a repeat of what I’d told Kim, five years ago in my bed in Detroit.
Warren sat up, trying to cast that romantic gaze back on me. “Bent, let’s just take it slow. If I take the job in Miami, we’d see each other more. Then we could see what happens.”
Deep down, unfortunately, I knew what would happen. The same old, same old. But seeing him again filled me with the same lovers’ optimism that had put such a dreamy expression on Jah’s face this morning.
It was odd how he’d written Radford out of the picture, so I asked, “What about the guy who you were at the party with?”
“I told you it was just a date,” Warren said in a way that didn’t convince me. “It means nothing.”
“So what do you think about PGC?”
Warren let out a cynical chuckle. “You mean, what do I think of the Pretentious Gentlemen’s Club?”
I laughed, loving the playful expression in Warren’s eyes. I asked, “What do you think of them?”
“It’s not a group I would be a part of. Why do you ask?”
I could have lain there looking at Warren’s beautiful face—his broad jaw, the smooth ridge of his nose, his full, moist-looking lips—all day. But it really bothered me that he refused to face the truth about himself.
“Warren, I’m just surprised that of all the places in Miami, that’s where we see each other again. And how come I didn’t know that such an organization exists?”
“Maybe because neither one of us has a million dollars to waste like that,” he said with a tone like he was not impressed. “I guess if you married Kim, you’d be in that scene, too. Are you and your dad still not talking to each other?”
“No change.”
“What about your mother?”
“I haven’t talked to her in a minute, but it’s not because we’re upset with each other.” I paused, not really wanting to get into all this. I thought we’d come here to get away and relax.
“What is it, B. D.?”
“My mother’s very busy,” I said with an annoyed tone. “She’s got her charitable work and her young boyfriends.”
Warren looked surprised. “So that’s still going on?”
“As far as I know.” I looked at his beautiful face wishing I could enjoy it in silence or by making sounds that weren’t really words.
Warren asked, “How do you feel about that?”
“My mother doesn’t comment on my sex life and I don’t comment on hers.”
Warren chuckled. “I feel you on that. I think it’s funny that your mom is getting her swirl on with a young nigga.”
It was time for us to get back on the subject of us and whether we had a future, so I asked, “Do you want to move in with me if you take the job?”
“Maybe for a couple of days,” he said, “but I think we ought to keep our own places. If I’m going to become the star I envision, I’m going to have to be out in the Miami party scene.”
Was that his way of saying he wouldn’t have time for me? Or that he couldn’t be seen with me? Or would he just have to see me on the sly to keep our secret from his benefactor? “Is Radford going to help you break into the movie business?”
Warren’s deep voice vibrated through me as he said, “I don’t want to talk about Radford. This is about you and me, boo.”
“What about us?”
“I wonder if I can ever make you completely happy,” Warren said.
“I think you can,” I said as I moved closer to Warren and laid my hand across his naked stomach. Warren looked at me and gave me a sexy smile that softened his face. He placed his head on my stomach and I liked the warmth of his face against my skin.
“What do you really want, Bentley? What would truly make you happy?”
I didn’t look up at him. I just said out loud, “That every night I could be next to you and that when we went to sleep we dreamed the same dreams. That would make me happy.”
For a moment Warren remained silent. I knew he was thinking I had gotten him by saying something deep yet romantic.
“Ain’t no way I can top that shit, Bentley.”
“I know, Warren. Advantage, Bentley.”
I woke up the next morning to find that Warren had fallen asleep with his head on my thigh. His lips were slightly parted and his left hand was placed under his face, making him look so peaceful. He reminded me of a baby, and I had the impulse to stroke his cheek, to run the back of my hand across the early-morning whiskers along his jaw. Instead I lay there motionless, savoring the silent intimacy between us and telling myself that this was one of life’s moments to hold on to. Something to remember him by always, especially down the line if things went south.
Suddenly, there I was, preparing myself for disappointment again. Would I ever be able to let go of my fears that a seemingly perfect setup had to have a shelf life? Lord knows those fears were born out of good reasons. When Warren left me the first time, I was surprisingly devastated. I told myself karma was a bitch and turnabout was fair play, since I’d done the same thing to Kim. But Kim wouldn’t be single for long and hopefully I wouldn’t, either.
Now here I was with the man I felt I could love the rest of my life—but would he be able to love me with equal measure? I told myself not to get ahead of things for once, as I gently lifted Warren’s head from my lap, taking care not to wake him.
This seemed like the perfect time to take a long hot shower and try to relax. I crossed the bedroom into the wide double shower and turned on the water. I stepped in and reached for the expensive skin conditioner the hotel supplied. Standing there all lathered under the steady spray of warm water, lost in my thoughts, I realized this was my first alone time in a few days. Being alone suddenly felt like a luxury. It had never occurred to me during my years as a single guy that being all by myself would ever feel like anything but loneliness. But those few minutes in the shower already felt like a sanctuary from something. I guess it was that “something” that made the difference, and he was just outside the door. I smiled. Solitude wasn’t such a bad thing when it was yours to choose.
Once my shower was finished, I reached for one of the huge white towels and began drying myself. My thoughts turned immediately to Warren and what I ought to have waiting for him for breakfast. That was a nice feeling, too—having breakfast waiting for someone you love. But my day couldn’t start without spreading cocoa butter all over my body. As soon as I finished, I slipped on some boxers and the new black warm-ups Warren purchased for me. I took a look at myself in the mirror at my cashew brown skin, which was smooth and solid, so I decided not to shave. I put a light cream in my hair, then I finally stuck my head into the bedroom to check on Warren, who was sleeping like a baby bear.
It was a wonder the loud cell phone ringing didn’t wake him up. I leapt to the bedside to grab the phone from the night table when I saw that it was Jah calling. Closing the bedroom door behind me, I went onto the terrace to take the call.
“Hey, Jah. How’s it going?”
“Everything’s going great, B.”
I was surprised to hear a smile in his voice. “When are you coming back?”
“I wish I didn’t have to come back. I love it here. You should see the hotel suite I’m set up in.”
I shook my head. I hated that he was so easily impressed and naïve. I hated to think that Seth recognized that and would take full advantage of Jah as a result.
“But you have to come back! What about school?”
Jah sounded love-struck when he said, “Seth treats me so wonderful that I don’t want to leave.”
“So it’s all about Seth now.” I wanted to tell Jah that you never take men like Seth Sinclair seriously. As I stared out at the lake, five baby ducks swam in a straight line, following behind the mother duck. That reminded me of Jah, following Seth across the country and doing exactly as he ordered.
“Yeah, B, but I can only call him Seth when we’re alone
. He’s real strict about his privacy. But I don’t mind. You should see the way he takes care of me. He had a driver come and take me on a shopping spree. I got some really nice clothes. I got some Paper Denim jeans, three pairs of sneakers, and some Ed Hardy T-shirts. I’ll be the best-dressed man on the FIU campus.”
“Did you use what I gave you?” I couldn’t believe the number of young gay men I met who didn’t use condoms. When would we ever learn?
“Only one, but that’s because we’ve spent a lot of time talking and just laying in bed. Can you believe that? I didn’t know that it could be like this.”
I snapped, “Know what could be like this?”
“Love!” he declared with perfect sincerity. “I think I’m falling in love.”
“After two days?” I heard myself taking a chastising tone that I immediately realized wasn’t going to get through to him, so I tried a subtler approach. “Listen, Jah, it thrills me that you’re in love, but please take your time. You just met the guy. Getting to know someone is part of the process. These things take time. If it’s real, he won’t run away.”
Jah sighed. “I’ll try to go slow, but I think it might be too late. I think we’re already in pretty deep, if you know what I mean.”
Considering my own ambivalent situation with Warren, I knew exactly what he meant. How was it that I was advising someone in an area that I had so many uncertainties about? All I could come up with in reply was, “Be careful.”
“Okay, but, hey, I need to run. Seth just texted me on my new BlackBerry to say he’s on his way up to the suite. Everything is so top secret, but I guess that’s how life is going to be from now on.”
“I guess so,” I said, wondering how long Jah could hold on and how badly he might get his heart broken. The first time was always the hardest. Unfortunately, getting hurt was something I had no control over, but you could be sure he’d be at my door when it was time to pick up the pieces. I told myself I was jumping ahead again and pushed the thought out of my mind. “Well, Jah, let me know when you’re on your way back. I’ll take you to lunch or dinner and we can catch up.”
In My Father’s House Page 11
