I knew what she meant. I could devour three plates of those special nachos right then. I was ravenous. I looked around, saw our waiter, and held up my hand. He rushed over.
“Two orders of Panchos, oh Wonderful Wizard.”
He looked at me like I was crazy, but he said, “Coming right up.”
Our fit of laughter lasted so long that the waiter looked annoyed as he returned with a scoop of chips to fill up our empty basket. Most Chuy’s servers bend over backward to be nice, but this one must have been having a bad day.
Chapter 21
THE MOVIE the night before had been a lot of fun. Finn and his cousin were cut from the same cloth, albeit Alex’s fabric was not as wild a pattern as his. But she could crack as many sly jokes as he could. They kept me in stitches.
As we left the theater, we ran into a guy from my team.
“Hardy!” The unmistakable voice of Tim Chan, our team’s 6’8” center. I turned to see him rushing toward us. “How ya doin’, guy?”
In the delirium of camaraderie, Finn and Alex and I had been walking hand in hand. As Chan approached, I suddenly realized that Alex had broken our chain, but Finn still held firm. I jerked my hand away, hoping Chan had not seen.
So much for being out to myself. Trembling at the thought that a team member might get the wrong idea, I quickly introduced my new friends, Alex first.
Chan shook hands with both, but he kept his gaze focused on Alex. And why wouldn’t he? She was ravishingly beautiful. What red-blooded American boy wouldn’t be turned on by her?
Me, I answered myself. I was wracked with fear. Here I was confronted by one of my own team members, a guy who could out me in a heartbeat, and he might have seen me holding hands with another guy. What was I thinking?
I had to forget this nonsense. I needed to fly back into my closet and shut the door. I couldn’t risk losing the one thing I valued most, my team.
All the way home, I told myself over and over “Finn can be your friend. Nothing more. He doesn’t want you for anything else anyway, so quit fantasizing.”
When I woke up Sunday morning, I found a note from Mom. “I’m off to church. Having lunch with the Stillmores. There are cold cuts in the fridge.”
One of the nice things about having a heathen for a father is that long-ago promise he wrangled out of Mom. She would never force church on me. When I was younger, that meant she had to find a babysitter for Sunday mornings, but now it just allowed me to sleep in. I’m surprised, though. With the rally approaching, I expected her to wake me that morning to cajole me into going with her.
But Mom was not without guile. She probably knew forced church attendance the day before the rally might keep me from marching with her.
It was nice that life was back to seminormal. At least I had my peaceful Sunday morning back after all the turmoil of Dad stuff. After sleeping in, I could just chill. That is, until Mom returned. She would be full of rally talk. She was that way right before every climactic moment of her causes. She was relentless about them. She’d never involved me, before, no doubt because of Dad’s edict, but this one was different. I’d involved myself. I thought of my almost outing the night before, and I realized that my attending the rally would not only please Mom, but if anyone saw me there, fighting against HERO, it would quell any rumors that Chan could start at school. I didn’t know if I could make the front page of the Houston Chronicle, marching, but if the chance arose, I would take it.
I showered, and then I scooped up the newspaper outside the front door. I didn’t do a whole lot to keep up with the news, but I liked the Sunday paper.
I read the Chronicle cover to cover, and then I considered getting back to The Chosen. Remembering Finn’s spoiler, though, I decided I couldn’t face Danny’s revelation about his father. Not now. I’d finish it right before school started. Hopefully by then I could read it without passion.
My phone rang, and I ran to my room to get it, thinking it was probably Mallory.
It wasn’t.
“Jake, my boy!”
“Hey, Finn.” I should have known it would be him. Mal was stuck in beach reunion prison, so who else would call me? “What’s up?”
“I scored two tickets to the Doverspike show tonight.”
The Ticket Master system had almost locked up when those seats went on sale. They were all gone within minutes. Mal liked him, but I personally wasn’t crazy about the guy. I liked one or two of his songs, but I wouldn’t pay money to see a guy wiggle his butt. Not that Doverspike is gay. Pictures all over the net with him wrapped around hot Hollywood babes. Superstraight. I was willing to believe he was straight as an arrow.
“How’d you do that? That show was sold out months ago,” I asked, suddenly knowing the answer he’d give.
“Grandma.”
That woman owned this city.
“Your grandma is a Dylan Doverspike fan?” I had a vision of Grandma dressed in giant bangle earrings, a halter top, and spike heels with an I heart Dylan tattoo across her left breast. It made me laugh.
“Not exactly. One of her West Coast lawyers is one of Dylan’s lawyers. So I called her up yesterday morning the minute I saw channel two talk about the concert. I would have told you about it last night, but Grandma was still working the deal, you know whut I mean, bro?
“So, Grandma once again came through for her little Finny.”
“I’m a spoiled brat… I know.” He laughed. “Two house seats right down front. We pick ’em up at the Toyota Center box office. You up for it?”
Thinking of two hours watching Dylan Pretty Boy Doverspike shake his booty, I said, “Shouldn’t you take Alex? As sort of a welcome-to-town thing?” Of course, I also didn’t want to give him the wrong impression if he did, indeed, turn out to be gay. Which I didn’t think he was. And I almost hoped he wasn’t, because I liked having him as just a friend. It was best, on my part, if I cooled this relationship a bit.
“Believe me, Alex could care less. And going along to get along is not her thing. She’s what they call a free spirit. Besides, I got the tickets for you and me. Go with me? Please? Huh? Preconcert Chuy’s might be arranged.”
He had me at that, and hey—a free concert was a free concert. I’d just make sure I didn’t do anything to give out the wrong signals to him. “You bet. Same routine as last night?”
“Perfect.” He laughed.
“So you’re not tired of Chuy’s?” I had to ask. Not many people share my passion.
“Nope.”
“You’re a man after my heart, Finn.”
“You gotta believe it.”
“Then I’ll meet you at the ’Stang. Five thirty?”
“Yeah. That’ll give us plenty of time to eat, then get downtown.”
“And Finn, we have to leave as soon as the concert’s over. Grandma didn’t arrange any backstage passes, did she? Are we expected to spend the rest of the night doing shots with Dylan? Is Doverspike expecting us at the after-party? I’m not sure how ‘in’ Grandma is with rich celebrities.”
“I wish she’d gotten us in with the ‘in crowd.’ I tried. Seems Dylan’s modus operandi is to cut out even before they bring the houselights up. His handlers are whisking him away to fly the friendly skies before any of the teenyboppers even know he’s gone.”
“Good. I need my sleep. I’m headed to the DMV first thing tomorrow morning. By this time tomorrow, I’ll be a licensed driver.”
“Wow. I’ll get you home before midnight, Cinderella,” Finn said, splitting my eardrum with his cackle.
THE TOYOTA Center was bursting with the typical crowd of a Doverspike show, a million and three twelve- and thirteen-year-old girls, lots of high schoolers with their boyfriends in tow, and twenty-two thousand gay guys. Well, you can’t tell by looking, but I think it was a good guess these guys—most of them—were gay.
Despite the tabloid chatter that said Doverspike was queer as a three-dollar bill, he denied it—and, of course, tried to prove it with all that feminine
arm candy. You can’t—or shouldn’t—believe anything you read in those rags. At school they said the superstar spent his free time cruising public toilets. Yeah, right. If he was into guys, he’s got enough money and fame that he wouldn’t have to go searching.
When my buddies talk that trash, I do join in. They don’t know if the guy is gay or not. I don’t care enough to delve into it all. But I do care what they think about me. If I don’t talk the talk, I might be branded as a sympathizer at best, as gay myself at worst. And that’s something that can’t happen.
I chuckled inside, thinking of Mom’s group and how some of them would react if their teen daughters’ heartthrob Dylan Doverspike dared to come out of his big old closet, declare his love for his manager, his guitarist, his agent, his pool man, or whatever, and arrange a big media event wedding. Wouldn’t that cause a firestorm?
Or worse yet, what if Dylan came out on stage dressed in drag, declared he’d always felt like a fraud trying to be a man when he was really a woman?
Those little girls would have their parents up all night not only trying to explain it all away but seething inside, knowing that their daughter’s idol was one of those perverts who could rape their children in a public bathroom.
The lights dimmed, and I settled back to watch the circus.
The opening act sucked. But, then again, they’re supposed to. That’s why they’re called opening, instead of headliner.
At half past eight, Dylan Doverspike, in all his glory, appeared—lowered onto the stage from the rafters in a giant Plexi bubble. He was clad, head to toe, in some kind of designer suit, which must have been Hugo Boss since the show was billed as Hugo Boss presents Dylan Doverspike.
I shot a “give me a break” look at Finn, but he was sitting, eyes bugged out. When he realized I was staring at him, he leaned over and said, “Hot, huh?”
Hot? How much gayer could he have sounded? I made a mental note to talk to him about that. He was so concerned about fitting in at Lamar. He was going to have to watch his language, or they would think he was gay. And I’m sure he didn’t want that. No guy wants that. Not at school.
The concert exploded with “Give Me Some Afternoon Loving,” Doverspike’s biggest hit. You could barely hear it for all the screaming. The amps were turned to max, but those little girls had some powerful lungs.
When Dylan finished the number with one of his signature moves, Finn turned. “Awesome song, huh?”
I just nodded, wishing I were in Galveston with Mal. And that she understood my stance against Dad.
Next up was “Girl, You’re a Tiger.” I always thought that was a lame title for an even lamer song, but Finn sang right along.
The curly-haired darling of rock ’n’ roll did eight more songs, one right after each other; then he shouted “Love ya, Houston!” amid screams and applause. The stage lights cut out. The house lights came up.
A voice boomed over the speakers. “Take five, folks. Dylan’s got another eye-popping Hugo Boss to change into.”
“Doverspike’s amazing, isn’t he?” He wrapped his arm around my neck and pulled me to him. He rubbed his knuckles over my head. “Say it… say it… A. Maze. Ing!”
“A Fuckin’ Maze Ing!” I shouted, and he let me go.
“Dylan’s got some moves on him, he does. Man, he’s one hot dancer. Don’t you just love him?”
Finn was hyped on this concert, and just watching him, I was feelin’ the love… at least a lot more than I thought I would. His pro-Dylan disease was infectious.
“I saw you singing along. But spill it, how in the world did you know the words to the new tracks? He said that CD won’t even drop until next week.”
He looked at me and just as he opened his mouth, it dawned on me. At the same time, we both said, “Grandma.”
“Advance copy.”
“I figured that out.”
Just then, the lights went down, and a different Hugo Boss outfit appeared in a puff of smoke. The suit was so form fitting that you wondered how Doverspike had poured himself into it. But despite how it looked, he managed to dance up a frenzy in it.
The second half was more frantic than the first. About halfway through, guys started shouting out song titles. I suppose that uproar came from those aforementioned gay fans. Apparently the love of their lives, the übersexy Dylan was not serving up all their favorites. That started the girls shouting as well. It was bad enough trying to hear when the teens were shrieking, but then it got ear splitting.
Frankly I was relieved when it was over and my ears could readjust to a normal decibel level. But Finn left the concert babbling about how it was the most memorable night of his life.
I liked my new friend a lot, but he was going overboard with this one. His reaction was just too, too gay. And if that was his true self, then I had to watch myself. I could not, would not, no matter how much I wanted to, succumb to his charms. Not if it led—and it very well could—to my being outed at school. After all, I discovered at the movie you can run into anyone at any time. The guys on my team were not wallflowers, like I had been before meeting Finn.
It was raining when we left the Toyota Center, so we left the top up.
“So, be honest, did you think Dylan was absolutely beautiful tonight?” he asked.
Beautiful? Did he just say beautiful? In the few short days I’d known him, I’d learned one thing. He was not known for subtlety. But we were definitely going to have to have that talk. For his sake. And for mine.
He had provided the tickets, so I gave him what he wanted to hear. “He was legendary. Best concert I ever saw.”
“I wish there’d been an after-party. That would have been the perfect way to end the perfect night.”
“I’m surprised Grandma didn’t offer to throw one, at her expense. Just for her little Finny.”
He looked sheepish. “She tried, but it was a no-go.”
I was surprised she failed. I was beginning to think of Grandma as some kind of ultrarich fairy godmother.
“She’s a supergrandma. I bet under what she was wearing the other day was a blue leotard with a giant red S on it and a cape.”
“I did catch a glimpse of her once dressed just like that.”
We both laughed at that. Then he rattled on about Dylan Doverspike the rest of the way home.
Finn pulled the car into his parking space. He switched off the engine. I unbuckled my belt and had my hand on the door handle when I realized he hadn’t moved.
“What is it, Finn? Still basking in Doverspike glow?” I joked.
Slowly he unbuckled his seat belt. He took an audible breath. He seemed to be groping for words as he slowly began talking.
“You know… uh…. Jake, this has been… uh… the… uh… the best four days of my life.”
I looked at him. “Great,” I said, hoping to put him at ease. It has to be hard, I thought, to be the new kid.
“I came to Houston,” he continued, gaining momentum, confidence building in his voice, “feeling like I might never make another friend ever. I haven’t been completely honest with you. I hated Salt Lake City. My life there was total crap. There wasn’t a chance in hell I would have ever been accepted.”
I looked over at him. He seemed in such pain. I almost put my arm on his. But I didn’t want to seem gay. Not after the scare I had the night before with Chan and all.
“Here, I found you.” He smiled at me. “We hit it off—big-time.”
He took his hand and laid it on my arm. I wasn’t sure what was happening. Things were heating up, and I didn’t want them to. I felt trapped. This couldn’t be happening to me. He was my friend. That’s all.
I pulled my arm away. I started to open the car door.
Then he dropped the bomb.
“Who would have thought that, in my first week in H-town, I would find a boyfriend?”
My eyes got wide, my hands got clammy, my stomach flopped, and before I could say a word, Finn leaned over and kissed me full on the lips.
I slashed my sleeve across my mouth, wiping his spit from my lips.
“What the f?—” I didn’t finish the word because I swung open my door and ran from the car. I didn’t stop running until I was at our apartment stairs, hoping that he hadn’t followed.
Finn was gay.
Then….
And he knows I’m gay!
I combed my memory of the last four days for clues, clues that I had led him on, the clues that he had let me know what he was. I wanted to find it was all just two guys becoming friends. At least, that’s what I tried to make it out to be. But for Finn, I guess I registered on his gaydar some way. Maybe I reeked gay. He’d been putting the moves on me for four days. What a naïve idiot I was. How dense was I?
I thought gaydar was born in you if you were gay. Looks like I had none. No gaydar whatsoever. I didn’t pick up on that room service waiter in Halifax. I thought he was gay. He was straight as an arrow. And Dad. How did I miss that? And now Finn.
He saw it in me. His gaydar wasn’t on the fritz at all. Didn’t even need a little tune-up.
He reached out.
He kissed me.
I let him.
I. Let. Him. Kiss. Me.
I bent over into a flowerbed and lost what was left of my enchiladas. Shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, the thought pierced my brain that I had been putting the moves on him the last four days as well. I had led him on, because I wanted him. I even had myself convinced that I could have him, if he wanted, because of what my mom had said to me. Then last night happened, and I had lost the few steps into the light I’d taken. Chan had pushed me back into the closet. That fear of exposure did me in.
Finn was willing, and now I wasn’t. I couldn’t do anything with him because I needed to protect myself. Call it wanting to stay on the team for a chance at a basketball scholarship or call it abject fear of being different and everyone knowing it. I just knew that I could not be gay.
Titanic Summer Page 19
