by Andrew Grey
“Is there anything else you need? I was thinking about making a call for dinner tonight and having something delivered.” He wanted to make Obie happy and to thank him for letting him stay here.
“That would be nice.”
“A friend of mine, Jacques, owns Le Jardin downtown. I’ll see if he can put together one of his vegetarian specialties and arrange to have it delivered. He’s done things like that in the past for me. Everything Jacques makes is incredible. You’ll love it.”
When Obie left, Bri picked up the phone once again, trying to get through the last of his calls. It would have been a lot easier if he hadn’t known Obie was right downstairs the entire damned time.
BRI’S LEG ached, but in a good way. With Obie’s help and a set of bars, he had been able to put most of his weight on his knee and walk slowly, without his brace. It felt amazing and was a real sign of progress. His insurance agent had received a copy of the preliminary reports about the fire and they were moving things forward. Jack had called him twice, as had his agent, and he had answered their questions. His agent was engaging a PR firm to handle any possible fallout and to field questions.
Obie was currently with another client, and Bri was just finishing up another round of calls, the last one to Obie’s father. “We are trying to work out a way to speak to Mr. Young, but unfortunately, he has lawyered up and doesn’t want to talk.”
“Sounds guilty to me,” Bri said. While Obie’s dad didn’t immediately agree with him, Bri got the feeling James thought the same thing.
“We only requested to speak with him, and he hid behind a lawyer mighty fast.” James sounded frustrated. “It’s okay, though. I’ve had some experts reviewing all of the videos and we’re building enough of a case that we can press charges. Then he won’t have much choice. Once we arrest him, he will answer our questions. It’s only a matter of time.” That made Bri feel somewhat better. “Justice doesn’t always work quickly, but in the end, it usually works. Have there been any more messages or threats? We haven’t received anything on your phone. By the way, I’ll stop by in a few hours to return it to you.”
“It’s been really quiet, especially since you have my phone. I’m starting to think I should get rid of the thing and go off the grid. It would be easier all around.” He was more relaxed and didn’t jump every time the damned thing rang. “Part of me misses it, but the quiet has been nice.”
“I understand,” James said chuckling. “I have two of the infernal things and I want to throw each of them against the wall at least twice a day.” A ringing in the background clued Bri in to exactly what he was talking about. “I have to go. Please tell Obie that I’ll stop by.” He hung up, and Bri set the phone down, pleased that he was done with his calls for a while. Movement below told him that Obie was finished, and he made his way down the stairs, finding Obie in the kitchen.
“What are you doing? I have dinner covered,” Bri said as Obie fussed.
“I know. I need something to do.”
“Your dad is going to stop on his way home,” Bri told him, which only sent Obie into another flurry of activity. “Why do you do that? Your dad can see the house as it really is. Hell, the place is damned near spotless, but if your dad says he’s coming over, you run around fluffing the pillows to within an inch of their lives and worrying about a stray dust bunny under the sofa that no one is going to see unless they get down on their hands and knees. And I don’t see that happening.”
“I get so nervous sometimes.” Obie began wiping down the already-gleaming counters and then set the rag aside to grab a broom to sweep the polished floors. “Don’t you ever wonder?” He swept like the devil himself was after him. “If you were a disappointment? I do sometimes. My dad loves the outdoors and goes hunting up north on his vacations. He took me camping twice. The first time, I screamed when bugs got in the tent, and wanted to sleep in the car. The second time, I was with my dad in a deer blind and he was going to help me shoot my first deer. All I did was cry, saying that Dad was going to shoot Bambi’s mother, and refused to stop. I think I was eleven. At least we both love sports and were able to go to games together. I wasn’t a total disappointment, but Dad had been the quarterback in high school, and I was never going to make any team other than debate.”
“Your dad is proud of you, I’m sure of it. If he isn’t, then he isn’t worthy of having a son like you. Okay?” Bri stopped the swish of the broom, stilling it. “Each and every son worries about disappointing his father at some point in their lives. But you are not your dad and he isn’t you. Obie is an individual, and I like the man that Obie is. He’s kind and strong and independent. He cares for others, but is also willing to be taken care of.” Bri nodded slowly. “Obie is someone worth being proud of.”
Obie’s eyes shone, and Bri set his crutches aside and took him in his arms, gingerly balancing on his injured leg. “Don’t hurt yourself,” Obie mumbled as Bri cradled his shoulders and head against his chest.
“And stop feeling guilty for being the man you are,” Bri reiterated. “We all have things we regret,” he added in a whisper.
“What do you regret?” Obie asked and Bri closed his eyes.
“Willy Hamel,” he said softly, opening that last little door in the back of his mind. This was the second time he’d thought about him in the last few weeks. He’d come to mind when Obie had told him about what had happened to his friend Harper. And suddenly, the memories came flooding back. “Willy.” He held Obie tighter as he stood silently, wishing he could go back and change the past.
“Why?” Obie asked, closing his arms around his waist. “Did you hurt him?”
Bri shook his head. “No… yes… I don’t know.” He shook as he tried to find the words. “I was a freshman in college and thought I knew everything, though I didn’t know shit about shit. Willy was a freshman too. He had a room down at the other end of the hall in the same dorm as me. One of my teammates was his roommate.” He swallowed around the lump. “Darryl tormented Willy no end. He didn’t know why he had to share a room with Willy and wanted him moved. The campus was crammed full and there was no space, so both he and Willy were stuck. Then Darryl took it on himself to drive the kid away, and got other team members to help. It was awful. And I did nothing,” Bri said. “Nothing at all. I was too damned scared.” He turned away, looking at the kitchen wall with its large clock.
“I take it Willy was gay,” Obie said.
Bri shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess the term today would be pansexual or polysexual. He was just another guy trying to figure out who he was, and Darryl made his life hell. Willy was on medication that made him sleep heavily, so one night, they carried his mattress out of the room and left him outside—in the rain.” Bri shook his head. “It got to the point that I remember Willy sitting up most of the night in the common room because he was too afraid to go to his own, terrified of what Darryl and his friends would do to him. And I simply stood by, watching, and let it happen.” Bri wiped his eyes.
“This doesn’t sound like it ends happily,” Obie said quietly, as though half holding his breath.
Bri shook his head. “That depends. I remember talking with Willy in the common room. He was practically living there at one point. He told me he had put in for another transfer, and this time, housing had told him that they’d found him a new room. He was happy and relieved.” Bri groaned softly. “I should have just invited him to come stay with me for a few days. My roommate and I had a sofa under our loft beds and he could have slept there until he had his own place. At least then he would have been safe. But no… I was too scared.” He sighed. “Willy knew Darryl’s schedule and used to go back to sleep when he was away. Only he didn’t wake up once, and Darryl went too far. Willy was allergic to lavender. When Darryl found out, he brought one of those scented plug-ins into the room and set it up near Willy’s bed while he was asleep.” Bri quivered.
“Oh God…,” Obie said.
“Yeah. I remember the ambulance, the sirens
, everyone standing in the hallway watching as Willy was carried out of the room. He was alive and had one of those breathing masks on, but his eyes were closed and he was still, really still. Someone must have called his family, because his mom, dad, and older brother were there by the time they got him into the ambulance, huddled together in the dorm lobby.” Bri released Obie and turned away, sitting back at the table. “Everyone says you regret what you didn’t do, sometimes more than your own actions.”
“Did he live? Was he okay?”
Bri nodded. “He lived. But they said that it had severely damaged his lungs. Willy never came back to school again.” He turned away. “The shitty thing was, I was like Willy. I had a similar secret—well, he wasn’t so secret—but I was afraid to help him because I didn’t want anyone to know about me and I was… a coward.” He sat down. “I’m still a fucking coward.” He held his head and stared at the floor. “I hide who I am from most everyone. I have few friends, real friends, and those I do have, I’m scared to be around too much because they’re gay and open about it.” He hung his head.
“Bri, I don’t think things are that bad, and—”
“Yes, they are. I’ve let fear make most of my life decisions for me. I stayed quiet when Willy was hurt and I could have done something. I avoid doing things that might make people guess at my secret. I tell myself that I don’t hide it, but I really do. The only thing I’ve ever done to be brave and open was to go to that club, and I only did that because I was with friends and they would tell everyone that I was only there to support a good cause. They covered for me so I could once again be a coward.” He sighed. “I have to stop this.” He stood, his leg shaking, and he nearly went down, but Obie grabbed him and helped Bri get his balance once again.
“Hey, you brought me and the guys to the game and came to my rescue when you thought someone was going to hurt me.” Obie stood behind him, hands placed gently on his shoulders. “Everyone needs to come to grips with who they are in their own time. I firmly believe that.”
A knock interrupted them, and Obie’s hands slipped off his shoulders. He left the room, and Bri swiped his hands over his face, trying to smooth away the sick feeling in his gut. “Thank you,” Obie said, his voice drifting in from the other room. “Yes, I have the instructions. Thanks again.” The door closed, and Obie returned with a large bag. “Dinner.”
Bri nodded, though he wasn’t very hungry right now. Obie set the bag on the counter. “We’re supposed to put this in the oven for half an hour at 350, so I’m going to do that now.”
“Okay,” he agreed passively. Bri didn’t have the energy for anything right now. His mind kept going over his decisions of the last ten years of his life. Nearly every one of them had been made to keep his secret, to hide who he was. And it had been Obie, even without him realizing it, who had changed the way he acted. With Obie, he made decisions that he wanted to make and his secret became less important. So he was a gay basketball player? So what? Did that mean he didn’t deserve to have a life that made him happy, that he was to live without love? Bri shook his head slowly. God, he had been stupid for leading half a life all these years. “What am I going to do?”
Obie closed the oven door. “About what?”
“Everything.” Bri wanted to close his eyes and pretend he could hide from this. He’d been hiding from who he was and what he really wanted for so long, he barely understood how to do anything else. But that had to end—soon.
“No.” Obie put the rest of the food in the refrigerator and closed the door. “I think you expect this to be some big event, something you have to orchestrate. It isn’t. This is about living your life authentically. There doesn’t have to be any media attention at all if you don’t want there to be. Just be who you are.” Obie pulled out the chair next to him and sat down.
“But I live part of my life in the public eye. I have to think about what will happen when this comes out.” Bri sat up straighter and laughed because he could do nothing else.
Obie shook his head and smiled. “It’s just about you being you. If you want to tell your manager and agent, go ahead. Tell the team, if you wish, but then let the chips fall where they may. Just let yourself be you.” He took Bri’s hand. “I think that’s what you’ve been missing.” Obie smiled at him, his eyes lighting just a little.
“What’s that for?”
“I always smile when I look at you.” Obie squeezed his hand a little tighter. “It takes courage to be who we really are. Do you remember high school and the guy who was always so filled with confidence? The guy who walked into a room and radiated charisma and made you want to look at him? Was he a lie, or was he the guy who was being who he was and was lucky enough that he fit in with what everyone expected? Anyway, looking at you makes me happy, so I do it as often as I can.”
Bri sighed and straightened his shoulders. He wasn’t going to let this—or anything else—get him down if he could help it. Obie was right. He needed to be who he was and to hell with everyone else. “Once all this crap is over, and the asshole who keeps threatening me is behind bars, I’ll talk to everyone.” That was the only way he was ever going to be happy.
The scent of dinner wafted out of the oven, filling the room. “This is not how I wanted this to go. I had planned a nice dinner that we could enjoy, not….” What the hell did he call the nightmarish trip down memory lane he’d taken for the last hour? Bri pushed out a huge breath and stood. “I’ll help you set the table.” It was time to try to put some of this out of his head, at least for now.
He got up and used one crutch to steady himself as he got the silverware, setting it on the table, and then got the plates. Obie pulled the food out of the refrigerator and set out the serving containers, minus their lids. The salads looked amazing, and rich smells filled the kitchen.
By the time Obie pulled the dish out of the oven, the room smelled heavenly. “Ratatouille, I love it.” Obie grinned as he set the hot dish on a cork trivet in the center of the table, adding a serving spoon. “Go ahead and sit. I’m going to get a bottle of wine. This is too good not to celebrate.” Obie hurried away, returning with two glasses. He opened the bottle, poured glasses, and sat next to Bri, bumping his shoulder. “Thank you for this. It’s really special.”
Bri found it difficult to take his eyes off Obie, even for the incredible dinner. He wanted to be able to look at him—at his incredible eyes and intensely red hair—forever. He leaned closer, as Obie followed, kissing him, his hand sliding around to cup the back of Obie’s head. He tasted his sweet lips, the perfect aperitif, before drawing back. He had made a promise to take things slower and he was going to keep it, no matter how much he wanted more.
OBIE GROANED as he sat back in his chair. “That was something else,” he moaned softly, his hands rubbing his belly. “Jacques is some friend.”
“He’s really talented. He started Le Jardin a few years ago and has been struggling to make a go of it. His reviews have been good, but it’s taken some time for him to get a real following and regular customers. It’s starting now, and most nights he’s nearly full. I’m happy for him. And you can tell by the food that it’s definitely worth it.”
“Oh yeah.” Obie closed his eyes.
“There’s dessert too,” Bri offered. “Though I’m sure it has dairy in it.” Berries and chocolate cream with a touch of brandy. It was something Bri loved but didn’t get very often, especially when he was in training, which was most of the time.
“I don’t think I can eat anything else right now. Maybe in a little while.” Obie slid open those magnificent eyes, and Bri watched him, loving the way Obie licked his lower lip as though his tongue was searching for more of the heavenly goodness, but was coming back a little disappointed each time.
“All right. But it shouldn’t sit too long. It’s best when fresh.” Bri stood and slowly cleared the dishes. He hated what a pain in the butt it was to do some of the simplest things.
“You can start using your leg without the c
rutches. You’re strong enough, as long as you’re careful,” Obie said. “Just use the crutches when you’re out or going up and down stairs. Check with the doctor if you want to make sure.”
Bri tested it carefully. There was no pain, and he was able to use both hands. It was almost a miracle—at least it felt that way. He put the dishes in the sink and the remaining food into the refrigerator.
“You know, I could get used to this,” Obie said slipping his hands behind his head, a wry grin on his lips.
Bri ran his fingers along Obie’s ribs and he giggled as his arms came down to protect sensitive areas from Bri’s tickling fingers. “You could, huh?” Bri grinned and relented. He didn’t want Obie to wriggle his way out of the chair and onto the floor.
“Yeah, I could. You arranging dinner was very nice.” Obie’s laughter subsided and he got to his feet. “Let’s go in the other room.” He led the way, and Bri carefully followed, sitting on the sofa and putting his leg up. “We could watch television,” Obie offered, as a knock sounded. Then the front door opened and the decision was made for them.
“Hey, Dad,” Obie said as he jumped to his feet.
“I brought Bri back his phone.” He came over and handed it to Bri. “I also wanted to ask a few more questions. We were able to speak with Young and we did some checking into his background. It wasn’t hard. It seems Young is in debt up to his ears because he likes to play the horses.”
“Did he admit to hurting me on purpose?” Bri asked.
James nodded. “The NYPD was very helpful and they did some checking. They found a ten-thousand-dollar deposit a week before you were injured. It didn’t take much to make him think we knew more than we did and he caved pretty quickly. Yeah, he took the money, and all he had to do was make sure you got hurt. What we don’t know is why.”
