Boy Midflight (9 page)

Okay Antonio. Listen up. How does this work into Your little plan? What is the plan? Did You know this was going to happen? Of course You did. You’re omnipotent. I seriously don’t know if I’m supposed to thank You or curse You. Which piece of the puzzle is this new information? Antonio! What am I supposed to do with this? How am I supposed to feel? Are you laughing, Antonio? Laughing…. The puppet master with the twinkle in His eye. I know I’m supposed to put my faith in You, but sometimes I wonder what You’re doing. It’s like handing the car keys to a child. Okay, a pretty bright kid, I’ll give You that. You’re precocious.

Granted, it all works beautifully. I leave, feeling guilt for pursuing my dream. That’s not right. I feel guilt for leaving Chris. And now with a magic sweep, he’s gone too. The irony rings. Should I have stayed? What would he have done? Left me? Or given up the hunt to stay?

So weird. Okay, what pisses me off though is that Chris is in Miami. I am in Los Angeles. On the lips of two separate oceans. Why wouldn’t he call to tell me? A two-minute call that says, “Hey, I’ve missed you. How’s it going there? I’m moving to Miami by the way.”

It’s fine. Really. Okay, no it’s not. Michelle used to say, “Do you know what F.I.N.E. stands for? Fucked-up. Insecure. Neurotic and Emotional.” Why am I standing in this parking lot talking to my laughing Universal Life-Force Energy and feeling F.I.N.E.?

Misery loves company. Where are my boys at? I head back into the club, past the velvet curtains, and scan the crowd. The Ranch is packed. Shoulder to shoulder and chest to chest.

“Yahoo! Yee-haw!”

Rising on my toes I can see Jordan, riding the bull. Swinging his shirt above his head. The crowd is loving him. Guys hold their beers high in salute as he navigates the metal beast, and the ladies point and whisper. Jordan rides like he was born on a horse. I have a suspicion another practice has led to this expertise. The bull slows and he hops off. For making the minute mark, he is handed a pitcher of draft from the shirtless cowboy.

“Jor-dan. Jor-dan! Jor-dan!” I start to yell and soon others are joining my chant as Jordan tips his smiling mug back and raises the pitcher’s bottom.

“Look at that dude go!” Fernando says, surprising me and resting an arm on my shoulder. “Jor-dan! Jor-dan! Woo-hoo! Yeah, brotha!”

After finishing the last of the beer, Jordan tosses the pitcher down, slings his shirt over one shoulder, and walks up to the cowboy. Placing his hands on either side of his head, Jordan plants him with a huge kiss.

Silence.

“Oh…. Shit,” Fernando says. My thoughts exactly. In a college crowd of jocks, cowboys, and frat brothers, homoerotic tendencies abound. But not displayed. Not like this. Silence.

“Whathafuck?”

“Fag!”

“Fuckin’ homo!”

“Cocksucker!”

Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never…. Ahh, shit. Looks like we got sticks and stones. Two guys looking more “off the farm” than “off the rack” at Nordstrom’s hop over the timber fence of the bull pen and swagger toward Jordan.

“Let’s go, man,” I say, turning to Fernando, who is already pushing his way toward them.

“Why don’t you take your candy ass back to West Hollywood?” taunts one of the predators.

“We don’t like fags around here,” the other announces for all of Saddle Ranch.

“Fellas, fellas. Let’s settle down. We don’t need any heroes tonight.” Mikal has stepped into the ring.

“Who the fuck are you? His boyfriend?” No time for answers. Farmboy lunges and takes a swing at Mikal.

“Eeaahhh!” The crowd erupts. Mikal leans back precariously and Farmboy’s fist just grazes his chin. Cowhand runs and football tackles Jordan, grabbing him around the waist and knocking him to the ground. Straddling Jordan, Cowhand gives him a one-two. First in the kisser, second to the ear.

Fernando and I rush the bullpen; so does everyone else. We push and prod to get through, but no one wants to give up the best seats in the house.

Mikal rights himself but now has two circling him. The object of Jordan’s affection, the shirtless cowboy, has decided to protect the honor of his heterosexuality. Mikal turns with them, keeping each one in his peripheral. In a split second he darts toward the bull, stoops, and picks up a hay bale. They’re on him like white on rice. Mikal turns and shoots the bale at Shirtless Cowboy, who topples under its weight. Farmboy isn’t done playing; he and Mikal circle each other, exchanging jabs.

Jordan uses his size to upset Cowhand by quickly rolling left. Cowhand ends up on all fours. Never one to lose an opportunity, Jordan jumps on his back, grabbing his shirt collar, and slaps Cowhand’s ass. “Yee-haw! Yeah, doggy, you my bitch!”

The crowd erupts.

“Hey, those are our friends! We gotta get in there!” I yell at the guys in front of Fernando and me.

“Let’s go, boys! Get in there!” And a couple of big guys in USC jerseys lift us onto the crowd. Fernando and I bodysurf hand over hand toward the ring. Looking over my head, I can see the bodyguard trying to lead a security team through the crowd. Plop. Over the timber fence and into the thick of it. The crowd celebrates our arrival as the new competitors. Shirtless Cowboy is up and slams Fernando against a fence post. Two jerks in the crowd pin his arms, and the Cowboy goes to work on Fernando’s gut. One-two. I rush the fence and pop one of the jerks in the jaw, giving Fernando leverage to swing his hips up and double cow kick the Cowboy in the chest, sending him flying on his ass again. He doesn’t look like he’s getting up.

Bam! Mikal takes a Farmboy sandwich to the side of the head. He shakes it off, fakes left, and bops Farmboy in the nose. Blood streams down his shirt. Suddenly my arms are wrenched around behind me. “You little shit! Causin’ trouble. I knew I shouldn’t have let you in,” a bouncer growls in my ear. There are two security guards on Mikal. One is trying to calm the hysterical bleeding Farmboy, and another couple is pulling Jordan off Cowhand.

“Yeah! I know how to ride!” Jordan screams, throwing his arms victoriously in the air. The crowd laughs and yells, and I try to crane my neck over the bouncer’s shoulder to see what’s happening to the other guys as I’m pushed through the crowd, who part and applaud us as we trudge by. Right out the velvet curtains into the valet lot. Fernando, Mikal, and Jordan join me, all smiling ear to ear.

“That was so wicked, man!” Fernando says, punching me in the arm as we are pushed into a taxi by security and pull onto the Sunset Strip.

“Jordan, what the fuck were you thinking?” I ask.

“I was thinking that Cowboy was hot. I knew he wanted on, so I went for it.”

“You went for it. In front of a huge straight crowd. You got balls, man.”

“I got big old balls.” Jordan laughs. “Besides, I knew you guys would back me up. We’re brothers now.”

“Yeah, well, my head could sure use some TLC.” Mikal winces and rubs his noggin. “You’re quiet, Fernando. You feeling all right?”

“I’ll be fine. Tequila shots and punches to the gut just getting to me. I’ll be good.” We laugh as his face swoons.

“Yeah, tequila makes you feel like Superman for a while, and then just sick,” Jordan lectures, obviously having been down that road a few times himself.

“Okay, well, when we get back everybody put some ice on all your war wounds. Lucky tomorrow’s off, but Marc will not be impressed with swelling bruises,” Mikal says, always on top of it, even in his own drunken state. “How’s your hand, Ashley?”

I look down to see I’m cradling my paw. With the adrenaline wearing off, it’s starting to throb. I flex and contract it a few times. “It’s nothing. Just hasn’t seen action like that in a while.”

Mikal meets my gaze and silently confirms with me again that I’m not just playing tough. I give him a nearly imperceptible nod. He flashes a smile at me and then turns to the other guys. “Did you see Ashley in there? My boy poppin’ that jerk in the jaw and saving Ferni?” He puts an arm around me and squeezes, smiling. I catch Fernando’s eye, and he smiles at me in that
I told you so
way.

“Yeah, I noticed the two little shits arrived just when the party was ending,” Jordan says.

“Man, the crowd was crazy. We couldn’t get through,” I say.

“Well none of us would have anything to worry about if you hadn’t kissed that guy. I can’t believe you did that!” Fernando laughs.

The taxi pulls up to our hotel, and we pay the driver.

“Good evening, gentlemen. Did you enjoy yourselves?” the doorman asks as we walk through.

“Oh, yeah, we still are.” Mikal laughs. On the way to the elevator, we plan to meet for a late breakfast in the morning and then hit Zuma Beach in Malibu.

Sixth Floor. Jordan.

“Night, ya dumb shit.”

“Suck me sideways.”

Eighth Floor. Fernando.

“See ya, boys. It was a good night.”

“Make sure you ice your ribs,” Mikal reminds him.

“Have a good night, Ashley.” Fernando gives me a thumb up as he disappears. Doors close.

“Some night, huh? Welcome to LA. Or at least LA when Jordan hits it up.” Mikal laughs.

“Yeah, crazy.”

“You didn’t get hurt, did you? You’re okay?”

“Doing great. How’s your head?”

“Throbbing,” Mikal says, running a hand through his dark hair. “Do you want to come up and watch a movie or something?”

Watch a movie or something.

“Uhh….”

“Come on. We have the day off tomorrow. Let’s hang out. I have a couple beers with your name on them.”

“All right, sure.”

“Great,” Mikal says, beaming a brilliant smile my way. We walk in silence to his room. He fumbles with his key card for a second.

Mikal’s room is an extension of himself: neat, organized, and orderly. His suitcases are stacked in the closet, over which hang a row of pressed shirts and pants. There is a second wind-up alarm clock set beside the hotel’s digital one. The only “sloppy” element is a couple fitness magazines on the bed, the top one open to a workout demonstration.

I sit on the bed and laugh at Jordan’s antics as Mikal starts to change. Unbuttoning his shirt as we talk.
Oh Ashley. This is sinful. You can’t look at his chest like this, the perfectly tanned and muscled chest of a superhero. Stop staring!
Mikal walks over to the bar and stoops to grab a couple beers from the fridge. His jeans are hanging on his hips below the black waistband of his underwear.

“Did you want to change too?” he asks, bringing me a beer and coming so close I can smell him. His stomach at my eye level, he smells of Dolce & Gabbana and sex. “You can borrow a shirt from me.”

“Yeah, that’d be good.” I grab the beer and take a swig.

Mikal digs in the closet and tosses me a shirt. “Here, try this. It’s one of my favorites.”

I instinctively pull the faded blue T-shirt to my nose. It smells of his detergent. There’s a Georgia Hoyas logo on the front. I pull my own shirt off. Mikal is watching. He smiles and looks down.

“Mikal, it’s really cool of you to watch out for me like you have here. You’ve made it easy to fit in.”

“What’s not to fit in? You’re a natural. You work it. Everyone thinks you’re beautiful.” Our eyes catch for a second, and we both look into our beers. Those beautiful almond-shaped green eyes with the long lashes linger in my mind. “So you have a girlfriend, Ashley? You must, right?”

“Uh, no, I don’t. What about you? You’re not with Erik’s mom anymore?”

“Yeah, I love Erik to death but his mom, Julie, and I, we didn’t work out. And now I’m so busy and on the road. It’s hard, you know? Long distance relationships never seem to work,” Mikal says and sits on the bed beside me.
There’s a perfectly spacious chair over there. Why are you so damningly delicious?
The muscles in his arms are taut and define themselves as he simply swirls the beer in his bottle. “I miss him, you know? It’s weird, I never wanted to be a dad. Then one day Julie gets pregnant and life is suddenly a lot different.”

“How often do you see Erik?”

“Once a month usually, unless I’m away doing a contract like right now. Julie has a new boyfriend, Ródiney. They’ve been together for a couple years now. I’m not really part of it, you know? Erik doesn’t even call me Daddy, he calls me Mikal,” he says, looking up from the carpet to me.

“How’s that for you?”

“It’s tough, but I get it. I mean, I was too young to be a dad, and I didn’t do a very good job. Julie and Ródiney are awesome parents, and I still get to be a small part of it. I think about Erik every day and sometimes wish things were different, that I had made a better effort, or that he could be with me, but I know it’s for the best. Sometimes life isn’t what you imagine it to be and sometimes it’s better because of it,” he says, looking at me. “Whew, weird….”

“What?” I ask. I can hardly breathe.
Am I breathing? Remember to breathe
, I tell my body. He is so beautiful and my heart breaks that
he
is looking at
me
like this.

“Well, it’s just this feeling… I mean, I know I don’t really know you, not yet, but….” He pauses, looks at the pattern in the carpet, studying it, then back into my eyes and he laughs, just a little, low and quiet. “I feel like I do know you, or have. And from when we first met at the airport, all I’ve wanted to do is protect you.”

Okay, I’ve definitely stopped breathing.

“Mikal, I have a boyfriend.” I pull on his T-shirt and stand up. I look down at him, shoulders slumped, eyes down. “Mikal, I’m sorry. You’re really great and I’m so flattered. You have no idea. But I’m with someone, with Chris. That’s his name.”

Mikal pulls on his T-shirt, tight over his chest and arms. He starts to laugh. “What? I wasn’t coming on to you! Geez. You’re gay?”

“Well… I… not really… yeah. I’m gay. Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I mean I thought you were straight for sure, but when you invited me up here….”

“So why did you come if you have a boyfriend?” Mikal asks pointedly, standing up and looking straight at me.

I’m not smelling Dolce & Gabbana or sex on him anymore. I smell fear, and it’s my own. I feel anger radiating from Mikal. I’m trying to decide what my best option is, to stand here very still or run for the door. “I came up because you asked me to, because I think you’re really cool and like you said I wanted to get to know you better. I didn’t think we were going to make out or anything, I swear.”