“Before you two came along, the only boy who had ever asked me out was Norman Elgin. Remember him? Bad teeth and breath to match.”
“Norman Tighty-Whitie Elgin.” Owen let his head fall backward against the sofa.
“He came over to my house in his pickup truck and we went to the drive-through at the Burger King. We made out in the parking lot. I figured, what the hell, it’s not like I’m ever gonna get a better offer. Afterwards, he dropped me off in front of my house. All I wanted to do was get away, so I dashed, leaving my panties lost somewhere under his seat.”
“I hate it when I leave my panties behind.” Owen slurred out the words.
Maggie batted him on the arm. “The next day he had my panties dangling from his rearview mirror, bragging loudly how he’d popped my cherry.”
Owen’s eyes were now closed, and he was almost asleep. “I hate it when I pop my cherry,” he mumbled.
Maggie continued. “That morning, during homeroom, everyone was staring at me and laughing. I wanted to die. You and Jessy had skipped homeroom. Of course, Mrs. Tomar didn’t report you; you had her wrapped around your little fingers.”
“Mrs. Tomar. She had this mole on the side of her lip with a giant hair growing out of it,” Owen said without opening his eyes.
Maggie stared off into the distance as she spoke. “I’ll never forget the look on Norman’s face when he went out to his pickup during lunch and found his side window smashed and my panties gone.”
She stared directly at Owen. “They never figured out who did it.”
Owen said nothing. He leaned over and kissed Maggie on the lips, then reclined back and closed his eyes again. His breathing slowed and he drifted off.
Maggie’s eyes became moist. “You know, I get the Pride stuff, but I don’t know if it gets me. When do I get a letter in the LGBT lineup?”
Owen didn’t stir.
“What I’m trying to say is, where’s my Pride? I mean, someday you and Jessy are gonna find guys of your own and settle down. And what will happen to me? I’ll just be this pathetic old fag hag still hanging around in the shadows.”
Owen breathed in and out deeply.
Maggie smoothed back his hair, and he stirred and opened his eyes. “C’mon, honey,” she said. “It’s time to find out where Jessy and your boyfriend are.”
They knew where Jessy would be: dance floor, dark room, or hanging over a toilet throwing up. As for Owen’s new boyfriend, Lane or whatever his name was, Maggie really didn’t care.
THEY WEAVED and wormed their way through the dance-trance-induced crowd to the far back corner where the dark room was. Owen could barely keep his eyes open. After all the nights without sleep preparing for the wedding, he was completely burned out. Maybe Lane had some coke left. Just a little pick-me-up snort, that’s all he needed.
“Wait here. I’ll see if Jessy’s in there.” Owen swept back the heavy black curtain and ducked into the darkness. The pungent odor of men filled his nostrils. A hand slid across his pelvis and down onto his crotch, and he felt himself getting chubby. He swiveled away. By now his eyes had adjusted enough that he could make out figures pressed against the walls. In the corner, there was a cluster of silhouettes. Owen squinted to see their faces.
Leaning back against the wall, he spotted Jessy with his pelvis thrust forward, humping some guy’s bent-over ass. Someone else was holding onto the guy’s head with both hands and pumping his face. Owen’s boner strained against the zipper of his jeans as he watched Jessy thrust harder and then come with a grunt.
“Psst, Jessy,” he called out in a church whisper.
Jessy pulled out, peeled off the condom, tossed it on the ground, and tucked himself back into his pants.
Owen leaned over and whispered into Jessy’s ear, “C’mon, lover boy, time to go.”
It was a ritual almost half as old as their friendship.
Jessy stepped away from the cluster and someone else moved into position.
But before Owen turned to leave, he paused. He couldn’t help but notice that, even in the darkness, there was something familiar about the bent-over figure’s form. Out of curiosity, or maybe jealousy, Owen briefly glanced down at the guy’s face. “Shit!” Owen turned and darted out of the darkroom.
By the time Jessy emerged from behind the heavy black curtain, Owen was now standing next to Maggie.
“How was I to know he was Lane?” Jessy said as he hurried up to them.
Owen refused to look at him.
“They call it a darkroom because it’s dark! Next time I’ll be sure and inquire first if anyone has a boyfriend,” Jessy huffed.
“Thanks a lot!” Owen spit out.
“Oh, don’t act so indignant.” Jessy held up his hands in surrender. “So I just fucked your party boy. So did three other guys.” Jessy made a stupid face and shrugged.
Owen tensed his jaw and glared at Jessy. “He was my boyfriend!”
“Oh yeah right.” Jessy crossed his arms. “He wasn’t a boyfriend. You don’t even know anything about him. He was just a fashion accessory. You had him penciled in between appointments and working dinners, just like you’ve been doing to Maggie and me.” Jessy’s permanent carefree expression had disappeared, and his face was now hard.
“That’s not true,” Owen said with a conviction that sounded forced. But it was true. Owen didn’t know anything about Lane, and he didn’t really want to. In fact, it wasn’t Lane he was jealous of. He stood speechless for a moment. Suddenly, all his feelings for Jessy that he had buried for so long came boiling to the surface. “And what about you? You expect me to stand by and watch while you fuck whoever you want!”
“I may be a slut, but I don’t lead people on like there’s anything more to it than sex,” Jessy continued. “Oh, and don’t think we don’t know about your new best friend—the nose candy.”
Owen felt the blood drain from his face. “What do you care! You’re the one who’s abandoning me!” He gasped as his unspoken truth escaped from his mouth.
“So that’s it! You’re pissed because I’m going to California and you’re looking for an excuse to dump on me and hurt yourself.”
Owen spun around toward Maggie. Her eyes filled with tears as she nodded agreement.
“And what about your promise to go to Italy with Maggie?” Jessy continued. “Or are you just going to brush her off too?”
Maggie stood frozen.
“Fine!” Owen spit out. “If you haven’t cancelled the plane tickets and hotel bookings, we’ll go to fuck’n Italy!” He looked back at Jessy. “Have a nice life in California!” Owen was trembling and his eyes were moist. Suddenly, he reached up and clasped his nose as a trickle of blood ran onto his lip. “Oh shit!” He turned and raced off.
PART TWO
Chapter Twenty-One
“IS IT nine in the evening or nine in the morning?” Maggie said as they stepped through the exit doors of Malpensa International Airport.
“Nine in the evening.” Owen pointed across the parking lot toward the taxi stand.
Maggie looked back at the large red letters over the entrance. “Malpensa. Even the name sounds European.”
“Oh right, like LaGuardia sounds so American.”
“Yes, but everything feels so European.” Maggie held up her hands. “It even smells European.”
“Maggie, so far we’ve seen the airport. And, by the way, that’s diesel fuel you’re smelling.”
“I don’t care. This is my first time to a foreign country.” Her face was beaming. “No, wait a minute, remember that school trip to Niagara Falls back in final year? We crossed the bridge into Canada. That was my first foreign country.”
“Oh yeah.” Owen furrowed his brow. “I’d forgotten about that.”
“Well, I remember the Horseshoe Falls and the people were really polite, but the money looked like Monopoly money.”
“Well, I remember Jessy made out with the guard at the Ripley’s museum,” Owen said with a sneer.
“It’s always sex with you two boys, isn’t it?” Maggie said, doing her best imitation of Miss Morality, their old Social Studies teacher.
“It was Jessy, not me!” Owen said, pointing at his chest.
“Hey, do you remember Jessy bought a bottle of vodka with his fake ID and the three of us got drunk in the back of the bus on the way home?” Maggie said.
“Yeah. You spent half the trip barfing in the toilet,” Owen said.
“You two were always getting me into trouble.” Maggie pouted. “Well not this time. This time I’m going to immerse myself in the culture and savor the local flavors.”
“That’s just what Jessy said before he blew that guard.” Owen curled his lip and feigned disgust. “But I don’t want to talk about him.” Owen pasted a stern look on his face. “I came here to forget Mister California.”
“You miss him, don’t you?” Maggie took Owen’s hand and stroked it.
“It feels like a stake through my heart.”
“I miss him too,” Maggie said.
Owen started to say something, but a jet taking off drowned him out. Instead, he took out his cell phone. “Oh no! My cell phone won’t work here!” he yelled as the roar of the jet faded into the distance, while he repeatedly jabbed the screen.
“We’ll have to buy SIM cards when we get to the B&B,” Maggie said calmly.
“Well what am I going to do until then?” Owen had a slight tone of panic in his voice.
“We could go back inside and look for one in the airport, but I’m sure that the Facebook and Twitter networks won’t collapse without you.”
He stopped and breathed in deeply. “Sorry. I’m just a little jittery, that’s all. Let’s find our taxi.” Owen hadn’t snorted anything since that fateful night during Pride. The Prozac his doctor prescribed took the edge off, but he still had a dull headache even after the Tylenol Extra he took just before landing.
“They say it’s like quitting smoking,” Maggie said.
“I wish it were only cigarettes.”
“Hang in there, big boy.” Maggie patted his arm. “Oh, that must be our taxi.” She pointed at a strange-looking minivan.
“Mr. Muller and Miss Tun?” the taxi driver said as he slid open the door to his white Fiat Multipla.
“That’s us,” Maggie said in a perky tone.
“Your luggage?”
“Just this.” Maggie held out her carry-on. “The airline lost our bags.”
The driver shrugged. “Welcome to Italy.”
Maggie climbed in and Owen crawled in beside her.
“Ahh, my butt is killing me. I must be suffering from economy ass,” Owen said, squirming from side to side. “I’ll probably never be able to dance again.”
“As long as you can have sex, what are you worried about?” Maggie poked Owen with her elbow.
Owen patted the left side of his chest. “I’ve taken a vow of celibacy. No sex without love.”
“Yeah right, like my vow to diet. No potato chips without beer.” Maggie snorted. “Save it for your memoirs, Madame X.”
“No, seriously. I read this article about sex and porn addiction. Did you know the newest trend is celibacy?”
“It’s not new. It’s called the priesthood.”
“Oh yeah, like they’re celibate.” Owen rolled his eyes.
“Shhh.” Maggie jerked her head toward the diver. “Be careful!” she whispered. “We’re in Big C country now.”
The driver adjusted his rearview mirror and looked at them. He fiddled with his navigator, then pulled away from the curb, barely missing a couple who had stepped onto the striped crosswalk. He sped up the exit ramp, navigating the spaghetti pattern of overpasses and merges. They cruised along a double-lane highway for about ten minutes, then passed through a toll and out onto a multilane highway.
The car ahead was driving the speed limit in the center lane. The driver flashed his headlights. “Testa di cazzo,” he muttered as he swerved right into the slow lane and raced past.
“I’ll bet that means dickhead,” Maggie whispered to Owen.
“We’re gonna die,” Owen whispered.
“Oh, relax. You said the same thing during takeoff and landing.” Maggie pressed her nose against the window and looked out. “Too bad it’s getting too dark out to see the scenery.”
Owen grit his teeth and gripped the spongy corners of his seat. “Perhaps it’s best we can’t see too much.”
Thirty minutes later, they took the off-ramp and passed through another toll. Twenty minutes after that they exited the multilane highway and continued along a rolling two-lane highway.
“I hope he knows where this place is,” Owen whispered to Maggie.
“Of course he does,” Maggie said. “Besides, he has the navigator, so how could we get lost?”
“Maybe we’re being kidnapped and he’s going to sell us as sex slaves,” Owen whispered.
“They’ll probably turn you into a eunuch.”
“Ahh!” Owen held his hand over his groin and pressed his legs together.
The taxi raced on into the night, only slowing to maneuver around the traffic circles that were placed about every ten miles along the road.
“If we go around another traffic circle, I’m definitely going to barf,” Owen said.
“Well, roll down the window a crack and get some fresh air.”
Owen hit the button, lowered his side window, and let the warm night air blow on his face.
Suddenly the window rose up, hitting him in the chin.
“Air-conditioning!” the taxi driver said sternly.
“Hang on, I’m sure we’re almost there.” Maggie patted Owen’s knee as they rounded another traffic circle. Looming up ahead was a dark silhouette of mountains sprinkled with lights.
“Laveno.” The taxi driver pointed.
They slowed to cross a railway track and glided into the town.
“Oh, that must be the lake.” Maggie pointed at the deep blue expanse beyond the town.
The taxi driver swerved around a curve at the Old Milano Pub, barely missing a group of young people standing partway in the street with cigarettes and cocktail glasses in their hands.
“At least we know there’s a nightlife here,” Owen said.
As the taxi continued, the road became progressively narrower. Owen inched away from his door and pressed closer to Maggie. “There’s no way two cars can pass each other on this road.”
Just as he spoke the headlights of a car appeared from around a blind corner heading straight toward them. Without slowing down the driver guided the taxi closer to the rock embankment. The weeds growing from the crevices made a slapping sound along the body of the car and against Owen’s window. Just as it appeared that the oncoming car was going to hit them, the driver made a sharp little flick of the steering wheel. Only inches from clipping their mirrors, the two cars zoomed past each other.
“If we meet a bus or a truck, we’re dead!” Owen said loud enough for the driver to hear.
The driver raised his hand and sliced it back and forth through the air just as they entered a gallery. As they came out the other side, the taxi driver jabbed his thumb toward the lake. “Gay beach.”
“Gay beach?” Owen said.
“Yes, many gays, nudists, and scambisti come here.”
“Scambisti?”
“Yes, to trade wives,” the driver said.
Owen and Maggie looked at each other, furrowed their brows, and shook their heads as the taxi wound around a curve and up over a hill.
“Oh look!” Maggie pointed ahead to a small, lit chapel resting on the side of a cliff overlooking a cluster of lights nestled in a bay below.
Owen leaned over closer and peered out the window. “That doesn’t look real. It looks like a postcard.”
“Castelveccana.” The taxi driver pointed. Five minutes later the taxi slowed and veered off the roadway onto a street bordered by stone walls, and up a hill toward a church. He turned left at the church and co
ntinued down a maze of poorly lit descending and ascending roads. Finally he came to a halt in front of an ancient-looking wrought-iron gate and flicked his headlights.
“I think we’ve arrived at Dracula’s summer home.” Owen stared out at the dark building looming in front.
“It really is a classic Italian villa!” Maggie said as she peered out her window.
A figure stepped out of the shadows into the headlight beams and opened the gate.
Owen pressed his face against his side window. “That’s probably Igor,” he said as the taxi drove in through the gate past the figure. “And from what I can see in this light, Igor sure looks hot.”
Maggie swatted Owen. “That’ll be one of the servants. I’m sure they have a huge staff here.”
They drove down the gravel driveway and stopped in front of the house. Owen and Maggie got out of the car and stretched while the taxi driver placed their carry-on bags on the front step. The young guy from the gate trotted down the driveway and directly up to them. Owen watched with curiosity as Maggie held out her hand limply toward him.
He looked at her hand, then took it and kissed it. “Signora.”
Maggie shivered.
Owen shot her a look and rolled his eyes. “Oh please,” he muttered through tightly stretched lips.
He turned toward Owen, took his hand, and shook it vigorously. “Hey, guy, how’s it go’n? I’m Fabrizio,” he said with a contrived American accent.
Just then another young man appeared in front of Owen.
“And my name is Enrico.” He smiled.
Owen quickly glanced at Fabrizio, then back at Enrico and beamed. “Very pleased to make your acquaintances.” Owen’s eyes remained locked on Enrico.
Maggie shot Owen a look and rolled her eyes. “Oh please,” she muttered back at Owen.
“Welcome to our home.” Enrico gestured in the direction of the steps lined with tea candles in clay pots. “We’ll take your bags.”
“Oh, we only have our carry-ons. The airlines lost our bags.”
“Luckily I have all my personal stuff in here,” Maggie said.
Tiramisu After Midnight Page 9
