by M. E. Parker
“Ohh … That Travis.” Cam dropped down on the bed and started to fan himself. “That man is like an extra-large steamy cup of buff hot chocolate. Is there any chance he’s—”
I cut him off. “No.”
“But, what about—”
I interrupted again. “No. Can we please focus?”
Cam sighed loudly and propped his head up on his fist. “Okay. Fine. It’s all about you. This is good, right?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. But I’m meeting them at the End Zone.”
Cam’s eyes widened. “Fuck. How much time do we have?”
I looked at my watch. “Thirty-five minutes.”
Cam sucked in a deep breath and let it out. “Okay, we can do this. Go shower.” He reached up and touched the scruff on my cheek. “Don’t shave.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
“I don’t have time for your questions. Go shower. I’ll be in your closet.”
I walked out of the bathroom five minutes later applying deodorant. “Cam?”
“Still in your closet. This is harder than I thought. You can’t look gay because I don’t want you getting hate-crimed. But you can’t look completely straight, because I want you to look good. Do you have any flannel? Chance always wears flannel.”
I looked up at the ceiling and prayed to the gay gods for patience. “You made me get rid of all my flannel freshman year. Along with anything plaid and anything with a button-down collar.”
“Yeah, well. Flannel looks good on Chance, but it doesn’t work for you.”
I wanted to pull my hair out. “Then why did you even ask?”
“It was a momentary lapse in judgment. Wait. Where did this come from?” He came out carrying the cashmere sweater my mother had given me for Christmas.
“It was a gift from my mother. I’m not wearing it. Not to the End Zone.”
“No, you’re right. Jules has excellent taste though.”
“Cam!” I yelled in frustration.
“It’s fine, Andy. I got this. Put on your dark jeans. You know which ones I mean. I’ll be right back,” he said as he walked out of the room.
I called out to him. “I’m not wearing any of your clothes. They’re too small for me.”
When he came back in the room, I had on my jeans and was standing in my closet. I’m just going to throw something on. It doesn’t matter. Nobody gives a shit what I wear.
“Andy? Where’d you go?”
I walked out of my closet. He was holding a plain, cream-colored chamois cloth shirt. I took it from him. It felt soft in my hand. I looked at the size. It was way too big for Cam. It might even be too big for me.
“Where did this come from?” I asked.
“Someone must’ve left it. Try it on.”
“No one stays over,” I said, trying to read his eyes.
“Well then, I picked it up somewhere. It doesn’t matter. Try it on.” I slipped it on and buttoned it up. Cam came over and pinched the seams together under my arms next to my ribs. “I wish we could have it altered.”
“Fuck, Cam. This is stupid. I’ll just throw something on,” I said, pushing his hands away.
He slapped me on the arm. “Stop it, Andy. It fits well through the shoulders. Tuck it in.” He grabbed the cuffs of the shirt and began to roll them up.
I huffed. “But you said to never tuck in.”
“That was gay bar advice. This is completely different. Trust me.”
I looked down at my watch and realized I had no choice. He went into my closet and handed me a tan belt and matching pair of loafers. I looked down at them. “Are you sure about this?”
He ignored me. “Go.” He pointed to the bathroom. I complied and closed the lid to the toilet and sat down. He ran the blow dryer over my hair, squeezed some junk out of a tube, and began to run his fingers through my hair.
I reached up to touch my hair. “Not too much product.”
He slapped my hand away. “Don’t touch it. Do you know how hard it is to make your hair look like it’s not fixed?”
I looked down at my watch. I was amazed. I didn’t need to leave for another ten minutes.
When he finally finished with my hair, he walked out of the bathroom backwards. “Stand up. Let me see the finished product.”
I stood, nervously smoothing out my shirt.
“Say something,” Cam demanded.
“What do you want me to say?”
“Say it again, with a deeper voice this time.”
I put my hands on my hips and threw my head back. “I’m so fucked.”
Cam laughed. “I was kidding. Look at yourself.”
I looked in the mirror. I looked good. Well, I didn’t think I looked too gay. I shook my head. I couldn’t even tell anymore.
“Stop stressing out. You’re the straightest gay person I know. Well, maybe next to Chance. You look great and I was totally kidding about your voice. You look hot, Andy. Everyone will hit on you tonight, boys and girls included.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to embarrass him,” I almost whispered, voicing my worst fear.
“Oh my god, Maybury, you’re breaking my heart. You listen to me. If you embarrass him, he is not good enough for you, because you’re hot as shit.” I nodded in agreement, but I didn’t believe his words.
I was nervous as I walked downtown. I wasn’t sure what to expect. I checked my watch when I reached Main Street. It was one minute after seven. I looked up as soon as I reached the End Zone. I felt a flood of relief pour over me when I saw Chance standing outside the bar waiting for me. He smiled and waved at me from across the street. A couple of guys had stopped to shake his hand before I even made it across the street.
When I reached him, he pulled me into a brief hug. His dark eyes sparkled under the street lamp. He was wearing a torn pair of jeans and a black Henley with the sleeves pulled up. He looked good enough to eat.
He leaned down and whispered, “You look hot, monkey, and you smell good too.” I let out a breath and put my hands in my pockets to remind myself not to touch him. “You ready?” he asked. I nodded. I briefly felt his hand on the small of my back as we walked through the door. When we got inside, he looked at me and smiled. “Travis is parking. You wanna grab us some beers and I’ll get us a table?”
“Sure,” I managed to utter.
He pulled out his wallet and pressed a twenty-dollar bill into my hand.
“What kind?”
“Stella for Travis and me and whatever you want. I want to grab that table before it disappears.” He pointed to a four top by the window.
I nodded and walked nervously towards the bar. There were five or six people ahead of me in line. I hadn’t expected the place to be so busy so early in the evening. The girl in front of me had long red hair, almost to her waist. She swung her head around and looked at me. Her eyes drifted down from my face to the rest of my body.
She smiled at me. “Crazy how busy it is already, huh?”
I smiled back at her. “Yeah. Crazy.” I looked back at Chance. He’d taken a seat at the table. He smiled at me and waved. I nodded. I looked down at my feet and tried to make myself feel less nervous. Everything seemed fine so far. When I was able to take another step forward, I looked back at Chance again. He was hugging Travis. I watched as Travis took the seat across from him. My cheeks heated when Chance pointed towards me at the bar. I gave them both a small wave and turned back around and looked back down at my feet. It’s fine. Everything’s cool. You’re going to have fun tonight. No one is looking at you like they know you’re queer.
When I finally made it to the bar, the bartender grinned at me. “What can I get you, man?”
I cleared my throat. “Two Stellas and a Heineken.”
“Oh man, I’m totally out of Stella. We were supposed to have a truck come in today, but it never showed.”
If I were just getting beers for Chance and me, I would have just gotten him a Heineken, but I wasn’t sure if Travis would be
picky. I smiled at the bartender.
“Let me just check with,” I hooked my thumb towards the back of the bar.
“No problem. Sorry, dude.”
I shook my head and turned around to head towards Chance and Travis. As I made my way through the crowd, I noticed that a couple of guys were at the table. Big guys. They were obviously football players. I walked over, feeling self-conscious. When I reached the table, Chance caught my eye. Then I realized I recognized one of the guys standing there. Daryl White. I felt frozen in place. He was laughing hard.
I caught him mid-sentence. “I swear man, every time she bent over, you could see her pussy.” No one else was laughing. But seeing the guy there, standing next to Chance, made me sick.
He stood up. I tried to speak. I think I got out two or three words. “They’re out of …”
Chance clasped my hand in some sort of high-five and pulled me into some sort of bro-hug, knocking me on the back with his fist.
“What are you doing here, dude?” he asked. His face was bright red. I was staring at him trying to figure out what was happening. “Seriously, man, it’s been a while,” he said. It suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks. He’s trying to pretend he’s not here with me. I felt like I’d just been punched in the gut. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t talk.
“Andy’s from Wytheville,” he said, looking at Daryl and his look-alike standing next to him. He nodded his head towards Tweedledum and Tweedledee. “Daryl and Josh,” he said, introducing me to the assholes.
Daryl looked at me for a second, and an evil grin crossed his face. “It’s just so lovely to meet you, Andy,” he said in a high-pitched, feminine voice, doing his best gay-boy impression. He flipped a limp wrist in front of me like he wanted me to kiss his hand. I felt sick to my stomach as he broke out into laughter.
I looked around the table. No one else was laughing. I cleared my throat and pasted a fake smile on my face and laughed sarcastically. “Funny, man. Especially that lisp—hilarious,” I said, allowing the smile to disappear from my face as I looked at Chance. He was looking down at his lap. His eyes were closed. I realized that I was still gripping the twenty-dollar bill in my hand that he’d given me. I placed it on the table in front of him.
“Great to see you again, Chance.” I walked out of the bar, wondering if I’d ever feel like I could breathe again.
Chapter Sixteen
Chance
As soon as I had begun the stupid charade, I regretted it. But to hear Andy play along made me sick. His words cut like a knife and the tone of disappointment I heard in his voice made me want to die. When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was the twenty-dollar bill I’d given him sitting on the table in front of me. When I looked up, I caught a glimpse of Andy walking out the door.
My eyes shifted to Travis who was sitting across from me. He’d never looked at me like that before. “That was a dick move. Why the fuck did you do that?” There was rage in his eyes.
I shook my head. I hated myself. I couldn’t explain it. “Go after him now, or I will.” Travis’s voice was both calm and eerily scary at the same time.
I jumped up. As I raced towards the door, I barely heard the exchange that was happening between Travis, Daryl, and Josh.
“You stupid fucking backward-ass hillbilly.” Travis’s voice boomed.
“Chill. I was just fucking around.” Daryl laughed.
“What just happened?” Josh asked cluelessly.
As soon as I got outside, I spotted Andy. He was about ten feet down the sidewalk.
“Andy!” I called. He ignored me. I ran to catch up with him. “Andy,” I called out again. My heart felt like it was pounding out of my chest. When I finally reached him, I grabbed his arm. He flinched at my touch. “Wait. Just talk to me for a second. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. Just listen.”
“I can’t, Chance. Just leave me alone.”
“Andy, listen.” I felt desperate. “Please. Listen.” He finally turned around and that’s when I saw the tears welling in his eyes. I felt like I wanted to throw up. “I’m so sorry. I hate that guy. He’s a homophobic asshole. I hate him, Andy. I was trying to get him to leave. I just wanted him to leave before you came back. I don’t know why I did that. I thought, if he didn’t know we were there together, he wouldn’t … I don’t know. Fuck. I’m just so sorry.”
He shook his head. “It’s fine. I’m gonna go.”
It wasn’t fine. Nothing was fine. “Don’t. Please don’t go. Finish talking to me. Please, Andy.”
He looked up at me. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Andy, fuck, please. You don’t know. That guy—”
Andy interrupted me. “Yeah I do know. I know him. His name’s Daryl White. He’s the guy I was telling you about. The one who stood out here and called us ‘cocksuckers and faggots’ and everything else. He’s the guy that Cameron pinned down on the pavement. I get it. He’s an asshole. But none of that hurt as much as what you just did.”
I looked at Andy. I was overcome with guilt. It was Daryl who’d treated Andy that way, and I just stood there and let Daryl fuck with him. I didn’t even take up for him. It’s official, I’m a piece of shit. I felt tears running down my cheeks. I’d never felt like that before, like I was on the verge of losing everything. I hated myself for what I’d just done. I wanted to fix it.
“I know monkey, I know. I’m so fucking sorry. Come back inside with me. I’ll tell him we’re together. Come back in with me right now, please.” I held out my hand.
He looked down at my hand and then back up at me and shook his head. “That’s not … no, I can’t do that. This isn’t working. I’m going. I need you to leave me alone. I need to think. We’ll talk later, okay?”
“Andy.” I grabbed his arm. “Let’s talk now. If you don’t want to go back in, let me take you home.” I was desperate.
He turned back to me. “Please, Chance. Please. Just let me go.”
I couldn’t stand seeing the pain in his eyes. I nodded and let go of his arm and watched him walk down the sidewalk until he disappeared into Wild Orchid.
With my sleeve I wiped away the tears that still stung my eyes. I felt numb as I turned to walk back inside End Zone. I couldn’t believe what I’d done. It was so stupid. Daryl White meant nothing to me. He was nobody. I couldn’t figure out why I’d panicked like that.
Daryl was waiting at the door when I walked in. He was just standing there with a stupid grin on his face. I curled my fists. I wanted to kill the guy. But he wasn’t the reason I was so pissed. I was pissed at myself. He grabbed my arm as I tried to move past him.
“Hey, man, I didn’t know that guy was a friend of yours. Travis said—”
I interrupted him and jerked my arm away from him. “Fuck off.” I murmured under my breath as I pushed past him to move towards our table, where Travis was sitting, giving me a look like he wanted to kill me.
“Hold up,” Daryl said, grabbing my sleeve. “You know that guy’s a faggot, right? I’ve seen him coming outta’ that queer bar a bunch of times.”
That was it. I officially wanted to kill him. I got in his face and cocked my head. “You ever ask yourself why you’re keeping tabs on who’s coming in and out of Wild Orchid?”
“What the fuck, Wyrick? I ain’t no faggot if that’s what you’re sayin’.”
I shrugged. “Thank fuck for that.” His face was bright red. His nostrils flared. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to kill him. “You ever wonder why you don’t play?” He backed up a step and I took a step forward. “Seriously, you ever wonder why coach has never put you in? Three years. You haven’t played one game.”
He took another step back. “Fuck you, Wyrick,” he said, red-faced.
I took a step forward. “It’s because you’re slow.” I got in his face again. “You’re fat.” I took another step forward forcing him to back up. “And you’re fucking lazy.”
“Fuck you!” He pushed me with both hands on my chest. I stumbled
backward.
That’s all I needed. I just wanted him to touch me once. I reared back and punched him with everything I had square in the jaw. I watched him stumble backward. I watched blood trickle from the side of his mouth. Before he could recover from his shock, I tackled him and had him pinned on the floor. I raised my fist. I wanted to pulverize his stupid face. I felt a hand gripping my arm from the back. The next thing I knew, I was being pulled off him.
I heard Travis’s voice. “Josh, get him out of here now.”
I looked back at Travis. He had my arms pinned behind my back. “You need to calm the fuck down.” I nodded trying to catch my breath. “You good?” he asked. I nodded again as I watched Josh drag Daryl out of the bar. Travis loosened his grip on me and grabbed the back of my collar. “Go sit the fuck down,” he said as he pushed me towards the table.
I tried to calm down as I watched Travis talking to the bar manager, no doubt assuring him that I wouldn’t cause any more trouble. He came back to the table and sat across from me, sliding a beer into my hands. “You wanna tell me what that was all about?”
“That guy’s a fucking dick,” I said, before I took a drink of the cold beer.
“No shit. I wanna punch him pretty much every time he opens his mouth. But I don’t, because he’s nobody. I wasn’t talking about him. I was talking about Andy. Did you talk to him?”
I rubbed my face. “Yeah. He’s pissed.” I felt sick to my stomach.
“I guess.” Travis took a drink of his beer. “Why’d you do it?”
“Do what?” I asked, even though I knew exactly what he was asking.
He rolled his eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. Pretend like you barely knew him? Pretend like he wasn’t here to meet us for a drink?”
I sighed. “I don’t know. I fucking hate Daryl. I didn’t want him starting any shit with Andy. I thought he might if he thought Andy was with us. I just wanted him to leave.”
“Bullshit.” He took another drink of his beer.
I shook my head. “Not bullshit. It may be stupid, but that’s what I was thinking at the time.”
Travis raised an eyebrow. “That is complete bullshit. Why don’t you try again? This time tell the truth.”
