Boy Midflight (18 page)

Hand over hand, once, twice around, up behind, down through the middle. Angel. The cologne he’s wearing is rich chocolate.
Couldn’t we just stay home tonight?

“Turn to me here,” I say, and Mikal stands and faces me. I tighten the knot around his neck and flip down his collar.

“Perfect.” Mikal grins, looking down and seeing the tip of the tie resting on his belt buckle. He leans in and kisses me. My thanks. My gratification. I could start a tie-knotting company if he was the payoff.

I shake my head. “Almost perfect.” Reaching into the inside pocket of my own jacket, I retrieve a small black box. “For you, dawling.”

“Ashley! What is this?”

“Elegance is in the details, baby.”

Mikal lifts the lid to reveal a black pearl on a braided platinum setting. Running on a small chain is a bar and on the backside of the pearl set is an adjustable pin. “It’s beautiful, Ashley. What is it?”

I laugh. “It’s a tie pin. We pin this on the front of your tie,” I explain as I do so. “And unbutton this button on your shirt and pull the bar through. Now we button it again, and your tie will never go flapping away.”

“But no one will see it with my coat done up.”

“That’s the beauty of little details, Mikal. It’s like wearing great new underwear—only you know, but it feels great.”

“But this is your big day. Why did you get something for me?”

“Because there’s no one I’d rather share it with.”

Mikal wraps his arms around my waist and squeezes. Resting my forehead against his, I swim in his eyes. Hills of Ireland. A Celtic song. Waves carving a rocky shore. “I have something for you too.”

“Mikal! You didn’t need to do that,” I scold, kissing him quick.

“To start with, you’re going to need these after tonight.” Out of his coat pocket he pulls an eyeglass case. “Ray-Bans, just like Mr. Tom Cruise. Once the billboards are unveiled, you’re a celebrity.”

“Ahh!” I open the case and try on the shades. “Do I look as cool as he did in
Top Gun
?”

“Cooler, but don’t tell Tom I said that. Now, you didn’t go making any other dates for tonight, did you?”

“No, why?”

“Your other gift is in your right pants’ pocket.”

“What?” I exclaim, already reaching down. I pull out two airline tickets. “Mikal, what is this?”

“I thought after the unveiling of your billboard we could fly to Vegas. What do you think?”

“I think you’re the most amazing boyfriend ever.”

Boyfriend.
Have I used that word before? To him? Feels good, not too scary. Okay. Mikal is my boy… friend.
Wow.

“All right babe, we gotta get going. Don’t want to miss a thing,” Mikal interrupts my rambling thoughts.

“Say it again.”

“Say what again?”

“Call me babe again. I like when you call me that.”

“Okay. Are you ready for this? Tonight is like a big coming out party,
babe
.”

“I’m fine. It’s just some press. I have Vegas to look forward to… and
you
.”

THE LIMO
crawls to a stop at the corner of Santa Monica Boulevard and La Cienega, a high traffic area—or I should clarify by saying a high cruising area—in the heart of West Hollywood.

“Ready for this, boys?” Fernando asks, grinning like a Cheshire in his pinstripe suit.

“We got nothing to be nervous about. The catalog doesn’t come out with our mugs for another month.” Jordan laughs, highball in one hand. “Tonight it’s all about you and Ashley swapping spit.”

My stomach flips. Just nerves. As with anything in Hollywood, the unveiling of the billboard is a media event, especially since it was somehow “leaked” that this board held something special. Looking out my window, I see a red carpet extend up the sidewalk with shiny barred gates holding photographers and journalists at bay. A sedan pulls to the curb behind us. Marc jumps out, immediately flipping a Zippo to light the cigarette already in his mouth.

“Here we go, boys. It’s about to get interesting,” Mikal comments, giving my knee a squeeze. The limo door flies open and Marc leans in through his exhalation of smoke.

“All right, guys, remember, you love Otter Fashion, big smiles, and be playful. Let’s go! Let’s go!” he chants, clapping his hands together like a football coach before ducking back out the door.

“You hear that, Mary? No dancing on the carpet.” Fernando laughs.

“Fuck off. You’re just a wannabe queer,” Jordan fires.

“That’s it, Jordan. I wish you were my boyfriend.”

“Uh-uh, you don’t. You couldn’t handle all this!”

“Guys, can we save this?” Mikal asks, already leaning out of his seat.

“Why? Are we making you uncomfortable, Mr. Heterosexual? Can’t handle a little jockstrap tease?” Jordan presses.

“We should just get going. They’re waiting for us.”

“I think you can’t handle gays. Obviously you couldn’t handle this shoot. It made you ‘uncomfortable.’”

Mikal turns to me, grabs me by the shoulders, and pulls me in for a kiss. “Uncomfortable? I don’t think so. Try the best thing I ever tasted. Guess you didn’t hear the news. There are people waiting for us. Let’s go.”

“Holy shit!” Jordan and Ferni burst out laughing. I am beet red, I’m sure, with a smile etched across my face.

“What? Haven’t you ever seen two guys kiss?” I ask Jordan sarcastically. Jordan just laughs and starts crawling out of the limo. Fernando gives me a wink and a thumbs up on his way out.

“Thanks Mikal, I needed that.”

“I needed it too. I hadn’t kissed you in a half hour. I needed a fix, and Jordan gave me an excuse.” Mikal squeezes my hand. “Let’s go.”

“Here I come, world.” I take a deep breath. “I’m coming out!”

Shutters click and flashes pop as we step onto the red carpet. I wonder momentarily at the startling contrast of my shiny black shoe on the bloodred walkway. The reflection of a flash off my shoe brings my head up, and I join Mikal, Fernando, Jordan, and Marc on the carpet.

“Guys! Guys! Everyone looking at me please!”

“Gentlemen! On your left.”

“Straight ahead, guys.” The paparazzi yell over each other, vying for the best shot. With smiles plastered on our faces, we huddle and follow their shouted directions as best as possible.

“Come on, boys. Let’s have some fun!” Fernando leads the way by slipping out of his pinstripe jacket and slinging it over one shoulder. A myriad of flashes leave me momentarily blinded. I follow suit and unbutton my own and slip it off. Mikal unbuttons his and puts an arm around each of our shoulders. Jordan crosses his arms, leaning on one hip with his best tough guy mug.

I turn in to Mikal and loosen his tie. Flashes erupt again. We slowly meander down the carpet where the TV crews are located. Marc fields most of the questions, directing an odd one to each of us. The intellectual equivalent of “Do you like football?” and “Do you like red or blue jerseys better?” We’re models, it’s expected. At the end of the carpet, Marc ushers us up onto the raised platform. Lifting a headset I hadn’t previously noticed from around his neck, Marc has truly connected with the spirit of West Hollywood. Clicking on the mic pack, he looks a perfect aspiration of Madonna.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Otter Fashion is excited to unveil for you today new concepts in design and fashion. A true fusion of American identity and cultural differences. Our photographer has emphasized the fresh lines with harsh sunlight contrasting….”

Someone pinches my ass, and I jump a little. Shooting a sideways glance to Mikal, I rule him out, model citizen, intent on Marc’s oration. To my left, of course, is Fernando, smirking and staring at his shoes. I give him a pat on the ass. “You and me, buddy,” I say out of the side of my mouth.

“And now Otter Fashion presents for you as the first viewers, our new campaign,
L’été
,” Marc announces, stepping back and off the podium.

Two men manning black ropes pull simultaneously, and the black cover over the billboard falls away. There are a few stifled gasps, some whistles, and a strange stillness. Then an anthill of activity erupts. Photographers clamor to gain the most advantageous shooting angles. The makeshift gate keeping them at bay is totally disregarded as they trample across the red carpet.

The billboard is simple yet will no doubt get attention. It is divided into two main frames. On the left side on the bottom third is a white rectangular space with black lettering. It reads, “
L’été. This summer start a fight.
” Above is a black-and-white shot of me laughing and slamming a pillow against my combatant. White feathers hover magically in the air around us. Twenty feet high in our underwear. On the right-hand side is one large black-and-white photo. I have my eyes closed and head tilted back. The shot is cropped chest up, just enough to see my right hand extended and resting on his chest. A whisper of beard shadows his strong jaw and his face is tilted down to meet mine. I’m biting his lower lip and his eyes are looking down at me. I think it’s beautiful in black-and-white. A little joy jumps inside me with the intimate knowledge his eyes are green.

“FERNI, DID
you know?” I ask as I fumble in my pants pocket for a hotel key card.

“Yeah, I knew. They told me a week ago. They still compensated me for the shoot and may use some of our pics in the catalog. We’ll see. I don’t really care, I had fun stepping in with you. I’m really happy it’s you and Mikal up there. You look amazing together, and it’s the way it’s supposed to be,” Ferni says, loosening his tie and undoing the top two buttons on his shirt. I pull out the white plastic key card and the two airline tickets.

“Check this out, Ferni! Mikal and I are going to Vegas for the night!”

“Ah, that sounds like a blast,” he says, a trace of disappointment in his voice.

Three in the bed and the little one said, “Roll over! Roll over! Single beds are only made for one, two….”

“Hey, man, you can come too if you want. We’d love to have you come along.”

“Naa. This is your thing. You and Mikal need to be together. Maybe I’ll see what Jordan is up to.”

“Oh right, I’m sure you’d enjoy that!” I say, pushing the door open and tossing the contents of my pockets on the dresser.

“You’re right, maybe I’ll order some porn to my room. Or go to the gym again.” Ferni throws his pinstripe coat on a chair and flops on his back onto my bed.

“Or come to Vegas with Mikal and I. Ferni, I’d love to have you come. Honestly,” I tell him from the closet where I hang my suit and kick off my shoes. I pull on jeans and cover my blond hair with a black toque.

“Ashley, come on. You don’t want me there. You and Mikal are going to lock yourselves in a suite. The last thing you need is drunken Fernando knocking on your door begging you to come out and play,” he says, laughing.

I cross the room to the minibar and pull out a couple beers. I toss one at Ferni, who’s staring at the ceiling. “Incoming.”

“What?” With a thud it lands on his stomach. I crack my own and sit in the swivel chair at the bureau, turning to face the bed.

“Suit yourself. We’d have fun. You want to be a suck and stay in LA alone, that’s cool too.”

“Ashley, I love you man, but there’s a point where things change. You have Mikal now, and I have to realize my place is a little different.” Ferni sits up and rests against the headboard. He cracks his beer, takes a swig, and places it on the nightstand. “He’s going to give you things I can’t,” he says with a wink.

“That doesn’t mean our friendship has to change, Ferni.”

“I know, I just think I should be prepared. It’s no fun being a third wheel. We can’t be boys forever. One day we all have to grow up.”

“I disagree. I never want to grow up.”

“Ashley, you already are.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

I jump up and slam my hand against my elbow. Hopping up on my chair, I take on the role of wrestling announcer. “Ladies and gentlemen,
Suck Boy
is down on the mat, and it doesn’t look like he’s getting up. Reigning champ and two-time belt holder
Canadian Metal
is mounting the corner ropes. Looks like this could be lights out for
Suck Boy
.” With a flying leap, I sail off the chair, tipping it on its side, and crash into Ferni. “
Suck Boy
is putting up no resistance.
Canadian Metal
is going to pulverize him.” I grab
Suck Boy
by the arm and drag him to a kneeling position. “Swinging behind
Suck Boy
,
Canadian Metal
is about to use his signature move folks, the Polar Bear Face Smash!”

I scoop my arms up under
Suck Boy
’s and join my fingers together behind his head. He flails his arms, but they can’t reach me or protect him.

“What’s this? Looks like
Canadian Metal
is giving
Suck Boy
an ultimatum.
Suck Boy
can either tell the audience
Canadian Metal
is his best friend and nothing’s gonna change that or take the Polar Bear Face Smash! We’ve never seen anything like this before. If I was
Suck Boy
, I’d yell it out.”

Ferni laughs and squirms to free himself. Despite his biceps looming like pythons against my own, he can’t escape my hold. “Don’t laugh, this is serious,
Suck Boy
.”

“All right! All right! Submit!
Canadian Metal
is my best friend!”
Suck Boy
yells out.

“And what?”

“And nothing’s gonna change that!”

“That’s right.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, it looks like
Canadian Metal
is going back on his promise. He’s setting up the Polar Bear Face Smash anyway.”

I lean back with
Suck Boy
’s weight against me and then push us forward. “Polar Bear Face Smash!” Without the use of his arms to save him,
Suck Boy
falls face-first onto the bed, my weight behind him increasing the impact.

“Ashley, get off, I can’t breathe!” Ferni’s voice comes muffled from the pillow.