“Sir, your coffee is ready.”
“Okay. Be sure to give Rebecca my thanks. You can put it over there.” He pointed to an empty corner of his desk.
“No, sir, I want you to have your coffee now.” Erick placed the drink front and center on Rory’s desk.
“I…Erick. When did you get here?” Rory took his glasses off and got up to embrace his man. “I didn’t even realize you were standing there.”
“I could see that. You were so buried in your work. I got you some black coffee, no cream, just the way you like it.”
“Thanks.” Rory planted a soft kiss on his lips.
Erick looked back and forth, checking for any unexpected visitors. He returned Rory’s kiss with his tongue.
“Erick!” Rory wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“What?”
“My boss could come in any minute. Good God. I just can’t make out in the middle of the law office.”
“So what? Your boss’s son does it with his wife when no one’s watching, you told me.”
“It’s not the same.”
“Hmph.”
“I’m glad you came by. I wanted to talk to you about how we left things this morning.”
“Yes. Me, too.” Erick brushed some hair off the side of Rory’s face.
“I’ve been checking my banking records and it looks like you haven’t started paying me back.”
“Paying you back? For what?” Erick’s mind went blank.
“Paying me back the money I lent you to open up the shop. I know it’s been a year, but I see how excellent the store is doing. I’m not asking for all at once…” Rory rattled on.
Erick had the sudden urge to take the coffee and pour it all over his fiancé’s important papers.
“Lend? You told me it was a gift.” Erick’s eyes flashed.
“Why would I give you all that money? I was willing to invest in your dreams. Now that the shop is taking off, I expect some return. I mean, it’s only fair.”
“Do you ever take off your lawyer hat, even when you’re with me?”
“I’ve been putting in all these hours. Someone had to work. I’m no bank.” Rory took a sip from the coffee.
Erick closed his eyes and counted to ten to avoid strangling him.
“Next time, make sure they warm up my drink when you go to Coffee Star. This is getting cold. You know how I like it.”
“Yes, nice and hot,” Erick snapped before he marched out of Rory’s office.
“See you later, Erick,” Rory called out.
Erick paid him no mind as he and Lori took the elevator downstairs to her car and back to Rainbow Roses.
* * * *
When had Rory turned into such an A-1 jerk? Erick mused as he turned the sign on the front door of the store from Closed to Open. He placed the last of the Welcome Grand 1st Year Anniversary of Rainbow Roses! signs on the window.
Lori passed a broom over the floor and swept leaves and twigs into the dust pan. The eight-hundred-square-foot storefront stood in the center of the commercial strip mall alongside a hair salon, a day spa, and a liquor store. The LGBT flag hung outside with the American flag. Pale wooden shelves with floral print stationery, boxes, and other miscellaneous gifts attracted walk-ins. In a large refrigerator with sliding glass doors, Erick stored roses once they arrived.
Erick went into the restroom to change. Lori turned up the radio, adding a party element to the ambiance. Erick heard the ding-dong of the door followed by chitchat. He paused to check out his reflection one last time before joining his assistant.
Erick saw aquamarine eyes on him, studying him as he tied a red ribbon around a few sprigs of peony.
“Peter Sandoval, photographer, at your service.” The man bowed, extending a strong hand, which Erick promptly shook. Peter was twenty years his senior, with warm golden skin and silver streaks in his hair.
“You were here at my grand opening. The pictures you took really put me on the map. I thank you.”
“Oh, stop. You put yourself on the map. I just made your efforts public,” Peter replied. He smiled as he gestured to the posy in Erick’s hand. “Peony?”
“Yeah.”
“My mother loved them. They were her favorite flower. We had bushes by the house. I gave them to my favorite teachers at report card time,” Peter confessed.
“My mom made sure I checked for ants each time I brought them into the house,” Erick said.
A man in a wheelchair rolled towards Erick and Peter, looking back and forth between them. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” he asked.
“Forgive me, this is my husband, Luis.” Peter lifted Luis’s hand up in his.
Erick bent over to shake Luis’s hand. “You’re Luis?” Erick’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. He wanted to bite his own tongue; tact had never been his strong suit.
“Yes, Peter and I met you a year ago before I had my accident,” he said matter-of-factly.
“All it takes is a distracted driver texting,” Peter said.
“With Peter’s help, I’ve come a long way. For a time, I couldn’t even feel my legs. We still don’t know if I’ll ever walk again.” Luis looked at the bouquet of rainbow-colored roses on display.
“It will happen, baby. You’ll see.”
Erick felt tears form in his eyes and a small sob in the back of his throat.
Rory was not being any different than he always was. His pragmatism had once attracted Erick. Why let it now cause a rift between them? Erick was the one who was being the jerk. Who else had fronted him the money to see his dreams come true? Who else had seen him through the tough times?
“Congratulations,” someone behind Erick said. He felt a hand on his back.
“Rory, you came!”
“Of course. I could not be more proud of you, babe.”
“This calls for champagne.” Lori poured Pinot Grigio into five glasses. They all clinked together.
This time Rory kissed him like no one was looking.
* * * *
ABOUT R.M. OLIVIA
R.M. Olivia has been writing since she was a kid and recently decided to take the plunge to see her works in print. She writes to entertain and seduce with her words. She counts snacking and hanging out with her Siamese cats as two of her top interests. For more information, visit twitter.com/rmoliviawrites.
Touchdown by Terry O’Reilly
Darrin Houghton leaned against the window of the subway train as it rattled along. He was on his way home after a performance of the Broadway show in which he was a dancer. He was tired. And, tired was not a good time to think about his situation with Brad.
It had been six months since the wedding of two of Darrin’s fellow dancers from the show. Brad Grabosky, at the time, a very closeted star NFL football player, had surprised Darrin by showing up at the wedding. After the ceremony the two had gone out for drinks and Brad had declared he was ready to live a more open life, saying, “I don’t want to make some big coming out announcement to the media. I want to just let it happen gradually, however that works out.”
He then compared the process of his coming out to a football game, saying that he and Darrin were close to the goal line and they had a few downs yet to play. But, when they crossed that goal line for the touchdown, it would be their wedding day.
Darrin had imagined that wouldn’t take much time. But the game seemed to have stalled, and he and Brad were in a similar situation to where they were before Brad had asked Darrin to marry him. True, the pair went out frequently now rather than staying hunkered down in Darrin’s apartment. They attended parties hosted by Darrin’s gay friends and even went to gay bars. Darrin had gone to all of the playoff games and the Super Bowl the previous year. Brad had invited him to the celebration parties following the Hounds victory. However, Brad had only introduced him as a good friend, not his fiancé, or even his boyfriend.
When Darrin questioned Brad about this, Brad reminded him that they were taking it s
lowly and letting folks figure it out for themselves. Brad said he didn’t want to become the poster child for gay rights in the NFL. So, despite Darrin’s disappointment in the situation, he loved Brad and had no intention of walking away from the only man he’d ever considered marrying.
However, on nights like this, after both a matinee and evening performance, Darrin’s fatigue caused his defenses to slip. His dissatisfaction that things with Brad remained stagnant got the upper hand.
And, his friend Carl, a fellow dancer, didn’t help.
“I thought you two would have been married by now. I mean that’s what he told you after Alan and Tony’s wedding waaaaay last December, if I remember correctly.”
Darrin had defended his man by saying, “Brad wants to let the news come out to the press gradually; he doesn’t want it to detract from the team or the team’s focus.”
“But that’s what you said when the Hounds were in the playoffs and the Super Bowl. That was ages ago now.”
Darrin sighed. Privately he agreed with Carl. It was June. The sports world was zeroed in on the NHL and the Stanley Cup, the NBA championships, and baseball. Football was a distant memory. To Darrin’s mind this would be the perfect time to walk down the aisle and let the world know who the real Brad Grabosky was.
Darrin’s subway stop was coming up soon. He sighed and got up.
* * * *
“Hi, Henry,” Darrin said to the security guard at the entrance to his apartment building.
“Good evening. How did the show go today?”
“It was good,” Darrin answered, not all that enthusiastically.
Henry looked at him questioningly. “Something wrong?”
“No, it was fine. I’m fine, just tired. Two performances on Sundays after five during the week take it out of you.”
Darrin didn’t want to go into the real reason he was feeling down. He admonished himself for letting Henry see that he was feeling self-pity because Brad was dragging his feet. After all, he was lucky to have Brad in his life at all, given how closeted the man had been just a year ago. Darrin just had to suck it up and be patient.
As if reading his mind, Henry said, “Mr. Grabosky just took Dolly out for a walk. Said to tell you to check on dinner.
“Thanks, Henry. Have a good night.”
Henry nodded as Darrin entered the building. Remembering he hadn’t picked up the mail the day before, Darrin stopped at the mailboxes. He opened his box and removed several letters. Most were bills. One had a rainbow symbol in the return address corner. It was from the NYC Gay Pride Center.
Darrin opened it. It contained a flyer for the upcoming pride parade. Darrin perused it quickly. He knew all about the parade, as he and his fellow dancers were to perform on a float representing the Booth Theater at which his show was being staged. In fact, his day off on Monday was to be spent rehearsing for it. The parade would take place the following week.
Darrin took the elevator up to his apartment, went in, and checked on dinner as per Brad’s instructions.
The delightful smells emanating from a pot simmering on the stove told Darrin it was one of Brad’s specialties: his mother’s Neapolitan spaghetti. Made with a full stick of real butter and browned hamburger without draining the grease, it was served with a cardiologist on speed dial. Darrin lifted the lid, took the wooden spoon lying on the counter, and tasted the bubbling sauce. It was heavenly.
Darrin didn’t usually eat meals this heavy in fat. Being a dancer, he was careful to watch his diet. Darrin couldn’t cook worth a damn, so eating light hadn’t been a problem. But Brad was an excellent chef and this particular meal was one of Darrin’s favorites. So he let himself indulge. He made a mental note to eat only non-fat yogurt the next day.
A piece of paper with a message from Brad was also lying on the counter.
Hey, Babe—would you turn the burner on under the pot of water to get it going so I can put the pasta in when Dolly and I get home? Unless you think that is beyond your limited culinary abilities you keep reminding me about. LOL XXX Brad.
Darrin smiled and turned on the burner.
He went to the bedroom and undressed. He was just about to step into the shower when he heard the front door open. Dolly, their tri-colored basset hound, came bounding into the bedroom.
With Darrin’s help, she jumped onto the bed. Darrin bent and ruffled her long, silky ears as she tried to lick his nose.
Brad walked up behind Darrin and wrapped his strong arms around Darrin’s waist. He kissed the back of Darrin’s neck, pressing his body against him.
Darrin stood and pushed back against Brad. He felt the man’s muscular, hair-covered chest on his back and, realizing what Brad was thinking, said, “I think the water’s boiling for the pasta.”
“I turned it off. Dinner can wait,” Brad said, in his husky, bear voice.
* * * *
An hour later, showered and dressed in shorts and tees, they sat down to eat.
“So, how did the show go today?” Brad asked as he passed Darrin the focaccia.
“Good. I’m bushed though. Had a meeting after the performance. We’re gonna do a number in the pride parade next week.”
“Oh yeah, that’s coming up, isn’t it?”
Darrin nodded.
“Well, we can sleep in tomorrow. It’s your day off.”
“Actually, I have to be up early. I need to go to the theater to practice for the parade.”
“Oh? Well, I was planning on going back to my place and check on things. Haven’t been there for a while.”
Brad still maintained his apartment, although he spent more of his time here at Darrin’s. Darrin had hoped that they would be able to move to Brad’s larger condo, more conveniently located near the theater. Brad, once again, was reluctant to do something that might make their relationship more prominent.
“Someday soon,” he always said when Darrin brought it up.
“I thought you’d be here to take care of Dolly. I guess I’ll just take her with me since you won’t be home,” Brad said.
At the sound of her name, Dolly, who had been lying on the floor next to Brad, sat up and boofed. Brad looked down at her, smiled, and gave her a small nibble of meat from his spaghetti sauce. Darrin scowled.
“What? One little piece ain’t gonna hurt.”
As they continued eating, Darrin was tempted to ask if Brad would consider coming to the parade. But he let it go. He didn’t want to hear another excuse for why they needed to take it slowly. Besides, bedtime was coming, and Darrin didn’t want anything contentious to detract from a repeat performance of what they’d enjoyed before dinner, if that was what Brad was had in mind.
Darrin’s suspicions were confirmed when Brad waggled his eyebrows and said, “Let’s get these dishes done and Dolly walked. We’ll need to get to bed early.”
* * * *
The staging area for the pride parade was a kaleidoscope of color, a cacophony of sound, and a swirl of activity. There were rainbow pride balloon arrangements and rainbow flags in abundance. Bands and loud speakers assaulted the ears and competed for attention. Gay men, lesbians, drag queens, trans folk, all manner of representatives of the LGBTQIA community, and their supporters, milled about as they were directed by parade staff to their marching positions.
In light of the tragedy in Orlando several weeks before, the group seemed determined to show the world that love was stronger than hate, and that joy overcame sadness. Darrin was sure that those whose lives were taken would have wanted it that way.
Darrin and the dancers from the show were trying to run through their routine before getting on the float. During a break Carl asked, “So is Mr. Grabosky going to grace us with his presence here today?”
Darrin tried to respond lightly, hoping his disappointment didn’t show. “No, he had some sort of team thing he said he had to attend. They’re about to start summer conditioning so I guess it has something to do with that.”
The dance group’s name was called
by one of the organizers. They were told they needed to get to the float right away. As they walked along toward their parade position, Carl suddenly and shouted, “Oh my God! Look!”
Darrin, who had been walking along, staring at the ground, trying to muster up enthusiasm, looked up. Carl was pointing at a group of about a dozen hunky men some distance in front of them. They stood under a banner that read:
NFL Super Bowl Champion
New York Hounds
For Equality.
The players all wore team jerseys and carried small rainbow flags. In front of the group were three basset hound mascots, all wearing headbands, each band sporting two rainbow flags as well.
Darrin recognized one of the dogs at once: it was Dolly. He walked quickly toward her, his heart racing. She saw him and started to bay. The man attached to the end of her leash had his back to Darrin as he approached. Darrin saw the back of his jersey and stopped: Grabosky it read across the top. Below was the number 88.
Tears filled Darrin’s eyes as he picked up his pace and ran toward Brad, calling the man’s name. Brad turned, saw Darrin, smiled, and opened his arms. Darrin ran to him and leapt into his man’s strong arms, wrapping both his arms and legs around Brad, burying his face against the big man’s shoulder. Brad pulled back. Darrin looked up into his eyes. They, too, were filled with tears.
Brad pulled him into a deep kiss. Darrin could hear cheers and applause coming from the players and dancers around them. Brad broke the kiss. The whistle blew for the start of the parade. Brad said into Darrin’s ear, “I’ll wait for you at the end of the parade route. We’ve got a date.”
“A date?” Darrin asked, puzzled.
“Yeah, with the City Clerk. We need to get us a marriage license.”
Darrin kissed Brad again. His mind whirled. His heart beat with joy.
Brad continued to hold Darrin in his arms. The whistle blew again.
“You better go. You’ll miss your float. Dance your heart out for me. I’ll see you later,” Brad said.
Darrin had no question it would be the most joy-filled performance he’d given in a long time.
Brad put Darrin down. Darrin stood in front of him, wanting to savor this moment as long as he could. Brad smiled down at him. Dolly licked Darrin’s bare legs.
Love Is Proud Page 34
