by Alexa Land
“You’re what I want more than anything, Lorie. In a perfect world, sure, I’d love to have both the job and the amazing man. But if I have to pick, you win hands down, every single time. I came so close to telling you all of this the other day, but I was worried it was too soon. I wasn’t planning to tell you I love you yet either, but I thought you were leaving me so I needed to put my cards on the table.”
“It sounds like we both need to get better at talking about what’s on our mind,” he said.
“I know I do. I was always just so worried about getting the timing wrong.”
“I get that.”
“Now that I know you love me, I have to ask,” I said. “Why did you tell me you weren’t ready for a relationship?”
“Because the way I feel about you terrifies me. It strips away all my defenses and makes me totally vulnerable, so I was trying to buy myself some time. I swore I was done with relationships after the last one almost broke me. But then there you were, chipping away at my resolve day after day, even though I was sure you’d never want someone like me.”
“You know, you usually seem so confident,” I said. “It’s surprising to hear this insecurity from you.”
“I’m confident about some things, like being good at my job, but this is something else entirely. It turns out the best way to rattle my confidence is to fall in love with an absolutely gorgeous, much younger man who’s on the brink of stardom. I just kept thinking, why would you choose to be with me when you can have anyone you want? And then when we were having that discussion about sugar daddies, it just really drove the point home that guys like you don’t tend to end up with guys like me.”
I frowned and said, “Unless our financial situation was reversed, you mean. You certainly hear about younger people choosing older partners who can support them financially.”
“Yeah, that’s actually pretty common.”
“So, you and I aren’t stereotypical, and you know what? I love that. After all those years working as a prostitute, I could never be with someone who supported me financially. I just couldn’t. It’d remind me too much of where I was before.”
“I totally understand.”
“I’m so glad we’re finally having this discussion,” I said. “It probably should have happened long before that New Year’s kiss.”
“Then again, I’m glad we had that time as friends. I think we both needed to ease into this.”
I put my head on his shoulder, and he rubbed my back as I said, “That’s very true.”
“So, what happens next?”
“We just keep moving forward like we’ve been, but with the new understanding that we’re doing this as a couple. Step one is to unpack your bags,” I told him. “Then in a few weeks, we’ll go visit our families as planned, but now I get to introduce you as my boyfriend.” I sat up and looked at him as I asked, “That’s right, isn’t it?”
“Definitely.”
“Okay, good.” I returned my head to his shoulder and said, “I actually don’t know what we’ll do when I finish making this movie, but we’ll figure it out together.”
Chapter 15
The next three weeks passed smoothly, with Lorenzo as my constant companion and the most amazing source of support. My last day of filming seemed anticlimactic since everyone else was continuing on, while I alone was stepping out for a while because my scenes in Mendocino had wrapped. But it was nice to know it wasn’t over yet, and I looked forward to joining the cast and crew in San Francisco.
The day my break started, I shaved my beard, straightened my hair, put on a nice suit, and finally felt like myself again. Then we temporarily said goodbye to Riley, Phoenix, and Madame Leota. My two new friends had generously offered to babysit my cat while we were in Louisiana. That seemed like a far better alternative than stuffing her in the much-hated crate for a cross-country flight and then subjecting her to my parents’ slobbery dogs.
We all had to move out of that gorgeous beach house, since it had only been reserved for four weeks, so Phoenix and Riley found a nice, pet-friendly hotel room to share for the remainder of the shoot. Phoenix didn’t really have a reason to remain on-set while I was gone, but I got the impression he wanted to look after his young friend. He was just that kind of guy.
For the first part of our trip, Lorenzo and I flew into Tallahassee, so we could spend some time with his mother. The plan was to rent a car and drive to Louisiana next, and at the end of our visit we’d fly out of Shreveport. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but once our plane landed and we were on our way to have dinner with his mom and her husband, he started to get nervous.
“We don’t have to do this right now,” I said. “If you want to, we can go straight to the hotel, then call and tell her we’ll be by tomorrow.” Since we fully expected his mom and her husband to be uncomfortable with us as a couple, we’d decided to book a hotel in town, rather than staying under their roof.
“They’re expecting us,” he muttered, “and I don’t want to disappoint them.”
He’d bought himself a few new clothes for this trip, since his packing had been minimal when he came to stay with me all those weeks ago. After we parked the generic white rental car behind the restaurant, he got out and fidgeted with his new shirt as he asked, “Do I look okay?”
He was wearing a light blue button-down shirt and a nice pair of jeans, and he was as handsome as ever, even if he didn’t really look like himself. I caught his hands and kissed them before saying, “You look perfect.”
We circled the restaurant hand-in-hand, and when we reached the front Lorie murmured, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
The place was called Crab Queen, and it was part of a regional chain owned by his mother’s second husband. The sign was red neon, and there was a big, lit-up cartoon next to it of a woman wearing a crown and holding a scepter topped with a gold crab. I asked, “Is that—”
“Yup, that’s my mom. She never told me she was the…mascot, I guess, for the restaurants.”
I chuckled and said, “That’s awesome.”
The restaurant was a bit kitschy with its nautical décor, but it was nice, too. We checked in at the podium, and when the hostess found out we were guests of the owner, she fawned over us as she led us to a private banquet room.
The rest of our party was waiting for us, and they both stood up as we approached. His mother was a petite, attractive woman with dyed, jet black hair. She was wearing a stylish dress and heels, and though she had to be in her sixties, she looked closer to her son’s age. She also looked extremely uncomfortable as she and Lorenzo exchanged a quick, wooden hug.
Lorenzo shook her husband’s hand next, and then he said, “Jackie and Stan Marquez, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Will Kandinsky.”
Two things were notable about that—he used my stage name instead of my real one, and he actually told them I was his boyfriend. I’d expected him to introduce me as a friend, since he knew how his mother would react.
When I tried to shake her hand, it felt like grasping a dead fish. She just put absolutely nothing into it, and she avoided eye contact and gave me a quick nod without actually saying anything. Her husband, on the other hand, was warm and enthusiastic. He was short, with thinning hair and a stocky build, and despite the expensive suit, he gave off a used car salesman vibe.
Stan Marquez tried his best to keep the conversation flowing as a server took our drink order. He was very proud of his restaurants and told us how many locations he had throughout the Florida panhandle. “We’re even starting to work our way down the peninsula,” he said, with a big smile. “We broke ground on a new location in Gainesville just last month. That’s gonna be exciting. Of course, the goal is to open Crab Queens all over the state and later throughout the south, but one thing at a time.”
The conversation ground to a halt at that point. The server returned with our drinks, and Lorenzo and his mom both tossed theirs back and ordered another. That was the first time I saw any r
esemblance between the two of them. I fidgeted with the cuffs of my gray suit jacket for a few moments, and finally Stan tried to fill the silence by asking me, “So, Will, what do you do for a living?”
Lorenzo answered for me. “Will’s an actor. He’s shooting a movie right now that’s being directed by Gage Lang, the action star. After our vacation, he’ll go back to filming on location in San Francisco.” Now I saw why he’d used my stage name. He wanted to brag about me.
“Oh, that’s great,” Stan said. “I’m a big fan of Gage Lang’s movies. Have you been in anything I might’ve heard of?”
I glanced at Lorenzo to see if he was planning to answer for me, and then I said, “This is my first big break. Before this, I did some commercials, and I had a small part in an action movie.”
“That’s gotta be a tough line of work,” Stan said. “You’ve got so many people vying for a handful of parts.”
“Yeah, but Will’s great at it,” Lorenzo said. It was unusual to see him so defensive. “When this movie comes out, he’s going to be a huge star. Just watch.”
Stan went off on a tangent about his favorite movies, which carried us through the appetizer course. Then Jackie stood up abruptly and said, “Please excuse me. I need to visit the ladies’ room.”
We all stood as she hurried from the room, and once she was gone, Stan turned to Lorenzo and patted his arm. “Your mom loves you very much, kid,” he said, as he looked up at him with a sincere expression. “She really does. She’s proud of you, too. Jackie’s always telling her friends about your work with the dog rescue in Mexico City, and how you’re now looking after the buffaloes on Catalina Island. It’s just that, you know. She has a hard time with this.” He gestured back and forth between Lorenzo and me.
“It was a mistake coming here,” Lorenzo muttered. “I’m never going to change who I am, and she’s never going to accept it, is she?”
Stan shrugged and said, “Honestly? Probably not. But she’s still your mom and she still loves you, even if she doesn’t agree with your lifestyle.”
“It’s not a lifestyle, it’s who I am.” A tinge of anger crept into Lorenzo’s voice.
I took his hand and asked, “Do you want to go?”
He shook his head. “We’ve come all this way, and we can make it through one meal.”
His mother returned right after our food was brought to the table. We all sat in awkward silence, picking at the lobster tails Stan had insisted we order, until Lorenzo finally said, “I meant to tell you, we had a change of plans. We need to leave for Louisiana first thing tomorrow morning, so we’ll have to cut our visit short.” Our original plan had been to stay in Florida for three days, but I could see why he’d changed his mind. It was tough not to hate his mother when she looked unmistakably relieved.
“Well, we’re awful glad we got to see you,” her husband said. He turned to me and added, “Both of you.”
Stan tried so hard to make small-talk. We learned he was an alumni of the local university, and he told us all about its famous football team, which at different points in its history had included Dion Sanders and Burt Reynolds. I didn’t know shit about college football, but I tried my damnedest to feign an interest and ask enough questions to keep the conversation moving throughout the rest of the meal.
Meanwhile, Lorenzo and his mother both drank more than they ate, and both couldn’t get up fast enough when the meal was finished. A round of awkward goodbyes followed, and then Jackie excused herself again to use the restroom. The rest of us walked out to the lobby, and Stan started to tell us which route we should take through the panhandle.
I made the excuse of wanting to wash my hands and went into the restaurant in search of Lorenzo’s mom. She’d propped open an employee exit with a bucket and was outside smoking. When I joined her, she looked guilty and said, “Stan hates it when I smoke, but he’s nice enough to pretend he doesn’t notice the smell on my clothes when I sneak one.” For the first time, I realized she had a faint Spanish accent.
“He seems like a great guy.”
“He is.”
“You know who else is a great guy? Lorenzo. In fact, he’s the kindest, sweetest, and most loving person I’ve ever met, and he deserves a hell of a lot better than the way you’re treating him.”
“I can’t help it,” she insisted, as her hand went to the gold cross she wore on a flashy chain. “I was raised to believe what you and he are doing is a sin.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Marquez, but that’s bullshit,” I said, as I let my natural accent return to my speech. “I was raised in a redneck town in rural Louisiana. Everyone around us was racist, xenophobic, homophobic—you name it, they probably hated it. But like my parents before me, I made the choice to think for myself, and not to use religion as an excuse to hate other people.”
“I don’t hate you, or my son.”
“Maybe not, but you don’t accept us either, and you know for a fact that’s hurting Lorenzo. Don’t you see he’s exactly the same person he’s always been? He didn’t just wake up one day and decide to be bisexual. It’s how God made him, and it’s who he’s been all along, even when he was too afraid to come out. You don’t have to like it. But you also really don’t have to let it ruin your relationship.”
“I’m too old to change,” she said.
“That’s just an excuse.”
I started to leave, and she called, “Will?” When I turned back to her, there was a lot of emotion in her dark eyes. “You’ll take care of him for me, won’t you?”
“Every day, for the rest of my life. I adore your son, and I plan to marry him one day. If that makes you uncomfortable, I actually feel sorry for you.”
I went back inside and found Lorenzo right where I’d left him, and I asked, “Are you ready to go?” He nodded, and we both said goodbye to Stan before heading to the rental car.
Since Lorenzo had been drinking, I got behind the wheel. We drove in silence for a few minutes before he said quietly, “You smell like cigarettes. That must mean you talked to my mom.”
“I did.”
“What did she say?”
“She asked me to take care of you. I told her that had always been my plan.”
He asked, “Did you yell at her?”
“Nah. Yelling doesn’t accomplish anything. I just let her know you deserve better than the way she’s been treating you.”
“Thanks for sticking up for me.”
“Always.”
Our lodging for the night was a chain hotel near the capitol building. After we checked in, Lorenzo decided he wanted a shower. While he was in the bathroom, I pulled out my phone and made some plans for the next two days, since we’d decided against remaining in Tallahassee.
He seemed tired when he stepped out of the bathroom with a towel around his hips. It was as if his usual spark had been dulled somehow. But he smiled when he saw what I’d done in the room and asked, “Did you really pack candles, barware, and alcohol in your luggage?”
I joked, “Uh, yeah. Doesn’t everyone?” I’d turned down the bed, lowered the lights, and lit three travel candles in little round tins, which sat on the nightstand with a nice bottle of whiskey and a pair of shot glasses. I’d also stripped down to nothing but a cute pair of briefs, and I patted the mattress beside me and said, “Come here.”
When he joined me, I poured two shots of whiskey and clinked my glass against his as I said, “Cheers.” It burned all the way down. Then I said, “Why don’t you stretch out on your stomach, so I can give you a massage?”
“You don’t have to go to any trouble. I know I must seem depressed right now, but I’ll be fine.”
“After all you’ve done for me, let me take care of you for once, Lorie. Please?”
He climbed onto the bed like I’d asked, and I straddled his hips. Then I rubbed some of my nice, scented body lotion between my palms and went to work. It was so gratifying to see and feel him relaxing beneath me. He fell asleep soon after I finished the massage, and
I kissed his forehead and pulled the blanket over both of us.
The next morning, I snuck out to get us some breakfast. When I returned to the room, Lorenzo was just waking up. I kissed his cheek, then put a small stuffed animal on his chest and said, “Happy Groundhog Day.”
He picked up the toy and studied it as he murmured, “Is that what this is?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“I think it might possibly be a beaver, except that it’s missing a tail.” He sat up and pushed back his dark hair as he gave me a groggy smile.
“Well, what is a groundhog really, besides a tailless beaver?”
“I’d lecture you on taxonomy, but I haven’t had my coffee yet so I don’t think I can muster the energy.” I produced a cup of coffee with a flourish, and he said, “Neat magic trick,” before taking a sip.
“I know, right? I got us some breakfast, too. Don’t laugh at me, but I was so excited to see grits on the menu at the diner I found around the corner.”
“You’re kidding.”
“About which part?”
“Being excited about grits,” he said.
“Oh no, that totally happened. I’m a southern boy at heart and always will be, no matter how you dress me up.”
After Lorenzo cleaned up a bit in the bathroom and pulled on a pair of jeans, he joined me at the little, round table in a corner of the hotel room. I lifted the lid on his takeout container and said, “I got you biscuits and eggs, I hope that’s okay.”
“Did you get me some grits?”
“I did actually, just because I thought you might like to try them.” I opened the lid on a smaller takeout container and explained, “Yours are the same as mine, loaded with butter. Sadly, they weren’t serving cheesy grits, but I guess they’re more of a dinnertime thing anyway.”
Lorenzo tried a little spoonful, then said, “That’s surprisingly good. Kind of like cream of wheat in consistency.”
“I have no idea what that is, but I’m glad you like it. Had you tried grits before?”
“Can’t say I have. Will there be more culinary adventures waiting for us on this trip?”
