Dreaming of You (11 page)

Nathan and I looked at each other and started laughing. The table had a metal post frame that sat up on large black rubber wheels. It had a shelf down below filled with bread and butter plates, and the top was a seven-foot red marble slab that had at some point in its existence been dropped and split into two pieces.

“Oh”—Nathan pointed at me with his knife—“I’ll let Aden tell you about that; it’s one of his finds.”

“I got a damn good deal on that table…forty bucks at an auction.” I remembered how pleased I was with myself at the time.

“I should hope to hell you got a good deal on it,” Nathan said, shaking his head.

“Why?” Logan asked. “Because the top’s broken? It’s marble; you can clean the hell out of it. It’ll last forever.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“You’re stalling.” Nathan eyed me.

“Am not.” I patted the top of it with my hand. “What’s the big deal? So it used to be a mortician’s table, big whoop.”

“Aw, Jesus!” Logan backed away from both of us a bit. “That’s just…yuck.”

“You fucking pussies,” I said with a shrug. “Christ, it’s not like it came with a corpse. It’s an antique.”

“It’s fucking twisted,” Nathan said.

“I think it’s kinda funny.” I leaned into the table.

“I’m seeing a whole new side of you.” Logan was squinting as he looked me up and down.

“Finn thought it was hysterical.”

“Big shocker there.” Nathan tossed some onions into the pan.

Logan was eyeing the table as if really seeing it for the first time.

“Wanna lay on it?” I asked with an evil smile.

“Hopefully not for another fifty to sixty years,” Logan said.

* * * * *

For most of the week we knocked around the area. We talked, well, laughed mainly. I’d forgotten how much funnier Logan was in person as opposed to over the phone. The amusement on his face and the very physical way in which he told stories made him even more attractive to me. It was funny how much he was not the person I imagined him to be upon our initial meeting. In Atlanta he was very sophisticated and charming, like Cary Grant in
The Philadelphia Story
, amusing as well, except for that whole mother incident, all of which were a part of his personality. Behind the “ideal” qualities I’d always dreamed of finding in a guy, most of which he had, there was the slightest hint of a Jim Carrey to him…enough to keep you laughing, but not enough to embarrass you in public.

I knew he was having a good time, but in the back of my mind I was constantly afraid he was going to get bored. He lived in LA, for Christ’s sake. How much fun could Springpatch seem compared to that? We went to Silver Dollar City and shopping in Branson. He got a kick out of all the cheesy theaters and roadside tourist traps, buying a “Branson or Bust” T-shirt to commemorate the visit. I even resorted to, I’m ashamed to admit, taking him to the animal holocaust museum…aka the Bass Pro Shop. The place always gave me the creeps with all the dead stuffed animals everywhere, but I remembered he liked to go hiking and camping, so I thought he might find it interesting. We ended up almost getting ejected from the premises when we were caught sticking a pair of boxers into the mouth of a taxidermy bear. I was apparently trying too hard, because eventually he called me on it.

Logan was humming as he drove us back to the house. “You don’t have to keep me entertained, you know.”

“Well, I-I’m not,” I said, playing with the CD player.

“I came here to spend time with you, not to have you play Julie the cruise director.”

“Well, I know that.” I felt slightly embarrassed. “I just want you to have a good time.”

“I’m with you, aren’t I?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Then I’m having a good time, so relax.” He reached over and squeezed my knee. “I don’t want you wasting your attention trying to come up with things for us to do. I’d much prefer to have all your attention placed on me.”

I laughed, appreciating the artful way he could take a sweet comment toward me and twist it back around in reference to himself. It was annoyingly sexy. A smart-ass with dimples; what more could a guy ask for?

People began filing back into the bar for cigars or a cigarette as the waiters busied themselves removing all the remnants of dinner. I got up to stretch my legs as they brought in coffee and dessert. A few people came to say good night, having to get home for the babysitter or whatnot. I glanced down when Finn grabbed my hand.

“Come with me to potty.” She lifted herself up off the banquet. She gave Carrie the evil eye. “I will kill you if you dare set that bread pudding in front of me.”

Carrie started laughing and placed the plate back on the tray. I followed Finn through the curtains that separate the dining room from the bathrooms. We waited until the ladies’ room door opened and the current occupant left. I followed her in and plopped down in the chair next to the sink as Finn began hiking her dress up. True to form, she sat right down. She seldom wore underwear.

“Did you see what Mrs. Baker is wearing?” she asked, shaking her head.

I laughed, listening to her pee hitting the water. “It ain’t right.”

“I know, she has to be what, at least two hundred and fifty pounds, and the bitch dresses like she’s Britney Spears.”

“Oops, she did it again?”

“Toe up.” She reached over and rolled up some toilet paper. “I swear, Aden, if you ever see me doing anything like that, I give you permission to haul off and slap the shit out of me.”

“Oh, honey,” I said as she stood up and pushed her dress back down, jiggling her legs. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’d beat you senseless.”

She flushed and walked over to the sink. I got up and stood in front of the toilet, lifting the seat. With the sound of the running water, I immediately began peeing. “Are you having a good time?”

“Of course.” She dried off her hands. “I’m so full I want to purge. Nathan overdid it with the food.”

I zipped up my pants and flushed the toilet, putting the seat back down. “The sea bass was incredible.” I went over to the sink, washed my hands. “Melted right in my mouth.”

“Did you notice the guy with Colleen and her husband?”

“Yeah.” I threw away the paper towel. “It’s her brother Jim, or Tim, I can’t remember. Why?”

“He’s yummy. Is he straight?”

“I think so.” I smiled as she opened the bathroom door and we walked back out into the dining room. “He just moved here from Arkansas.”

She turned and gave me an innocent smile. “Well, I think it would be only neighborly to go and welcome him to town.”

“Go get him, girl.” I let out a sigh as she made her way over to their table. She’s an animal, I thought, laughing to myself. I shook my head and went into the bar. Walking through the cloud of smoke, I wound my way up to the hostess station. Opening the door in the base of the reservation desk, I reached in and squeezed some lotion onto my hand, knocking the bottle over, which sent a bunch of papers flying out onto the floor.

I rubbed the lotion into my hands, bent down, and began to pick up the papers. I shoved them back in and noticed my day planner lying inside. I grabbed it, not believing I’d almost forgotten it. I still hadn’t gone digital when it came to my schedule. I loved the act of sitting down with a pen and coffee and organizing myself. I stood up, shut the door, and began to walk back into the dining room.

“Aden,” one of our waitresses said as I spun around, “you dropped this.”

“Oh, thanks.” I took the envelope from her and turned it over, remembering the day I got it in the mail.

It was about a week after Logan had flown back to LA. I’d come home from the restaurant to get ready for work that night. I was sifting through the mail when I came across a letter from Logan. I took it into the kitchen and set it down while I made myself a sandwich. Every now and then I would turn and look at it sitting there on the counter. What the hell did it say, and why did he mail it? It couldn’t possibly be good news. The only thing it could be was a breakup letter, otherwise he would’ve called.

Halfway into my sandwich, I tossed it down and snatched up the envelope, ripping it open as quickly as I could. Kind of like the Band-Aid theory, if it was done quickly, it wouldn’t hurt as much. I closed my eyes and reached into the envelope, pulling out the contents. Taking a deep breath, I looked down. There was a plane ticket and a note. I looked at the ticket, a flight out of St. Louis to LA in just under two weeks. I opened the note. In bold black letters he’d written:
Make it happen!

I exhaled, realizing I hadn’t been breathing. I began laughing hysterically, putting my hand over my face. Then the silliest thing happened. I started to cry.
What the hell? I never cry
. I sat down on the kitchen floor, leaned back against the cabinet with my legs out in front of me, and bawled for a good five minutes. Eventually I got embarrassed, looking around as if someone were watching me. I didn’t understand why I was crying. Was I happy, sad, both, or just plain insane?

* * * * *

“I love this smell.” I breathed in the scent while rubbing the cocoa butter sunscreen over his back.

“Me too.” He patted his hands on his knees as I finished up. “I’m so glad we did this. Yesterday we were home and it was thirty-three degrees outside; today we’re on the beach in Mexico baking in the sun.”

A slight breeze ran over my skin, momentarily taking the warm sting of the sun with it. I squished the white sand between my toes and patted him on the back. “All done, babe.”

“Thanks, beautiful.” He sighed, leaning back into the white wood lounge chair.

I picked up my mojito and took a nice long sip before settling back into my own chair.

The white foamy waves rolled into the sand as I looked over the beach littered with other couples and people in various-sized groupings. I glanced over to see a tall lean man wearing formfitting black trunks headed in our direction. With his jet-black damp hair, the guy looked like he’d jumped right out of the pages of a European fashion magazine. His dark-tanned skin glistened in the sunlight. I glanced over and caught my babe watching intently as model guy passed in front of us; he continued to ogle as the guy walked away.

I reached over and smacked him in the arm. “Charming.”

“What?” he asked, his voice going up several octaves.

“You’re such a pig.” I rolled my eyes as the low rumble of a laugh bubbled up out of him.

“Awww, baby,” he said with a wink, “you know I only have eyes for you.”

“Lies and deceit.” I laughed at his lame attempt to stroke my ego.

“Don’t act like you never look at anyone else.” He picked up his Corona and shoved the lime down into the bottle. He lifted his fingers to his mouth and licked them seductively, eyeing my crotch.

“You’re a dirty boy.”

“That’s why you love me,” he said, taking a swig.

“You know it, baby.”

“Besides”—he leaned forward, looking past me—“it’s not like I’ve said a word about you cheating on me…even when you insisted on bringing him with us.”

“What?” I asked, ripping off my sunglasses.

“Honestly, Aden.” He pointed to the other side of my chair.

I turned my head to see Logan lounging on the other side of me. He pushed his sunglasses down his nose, peeking over them at me.

“Hi, baby,” Logan said, smiling with a wink.

My eyes popped open as the plane jerked from turbulence. I felt something fall into my lap and looked down to see a small tube. I picked it up and saw it was cocoa butter hand lotion.

“Sorry about that,” the lady sitting next to me said as she took it from me. “It slipped right out of my hand when the plane jumped.”

“No problem,” I said, smiling back at her.

“Flying makes me nervous.” She rubbed her hands together, working the lotion into her skin.

I faced forward looking around the plane. I’d always loved flying. Even with all the things that could go wrong once you were up in the air, it was absolutely amazing to me that we could actually do it. Normally when I flew, I fell right to sleep. This time I was very antsy and I was surprised I’d actually been able to doze off at all. I was nervous about going to LA. Not to see Logan, that was a good thing, but meeting his friends made me a little uncomfortable. Gays from large cities could sometimes come off a little snobbish. They tended to look down on anyone who didn’t live where they did, like it was unimaginable to live in a small town. Hello…we do have indoor plumbing. And they say size doesn’t matter.

The plane landed, and I kept my seat until everyone else exited. Finally, a flight attendant came up to where I was seated.

“Is everything okay, sir?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I answered, getting out of my seat. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to hold you all up. I’m meeting someone…a little nervous.”

“Ah, I see.” She laughed. “Just do the Marcia Brady thing.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You know…just picture them in their underwear.”

“Yes, well, that would have an altogether different effect on me.”

“Ah, so he’s a hottie.”

“Christ, am I that gay?”

She walked with me down the aisle. “One of the other flight attendants clocked you.”

I started to laugh as my foot caught on the strap of my overnight bag, causing me to trip. As I fell, she reached out and tried to hold me up, which in turn pulled her down with me. I turned to try to catch her and slammed the side of my head into a seat. She came down on top of me with her head falling on my chest. The other flight attendant came running up to us.

“Jesus, are you two okay?” he asked, standing over us, unsure of what to do.

She lifted her head, looked up at me, and opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

I started to laugh as I patted her on the shoulder. “I can honestly say I’ve never been in this position with a woman before.”

She hesitated and started to laugh as well. “Are you all right?”

“It was good for me,” I said as she began to lift herself off me.

The guy grabbed her arm and helped her up, then did the same with me. As I stood up, they both looked at me and gasped.

“What…what?” I asked, looking around.

“Oh my Lord,” she said, “you’re bleeding.”

They ran me back to the bathroom, and as I looked in the mirror, I saw the red bump on the side of my head with a small cut and a tiny trail of blood running down my face. I stared at it for a few seconds. They both stood there, waiting for me to freak out.

“Now I’ll never be a teen model!” I screamed, making them both jump. After a second, she started to laugh hysterically and the guy looked between the two of us, completely clueless. I grabbed a paper towel, wet it, and began to wipe my face.

“I’ll go grab an ice pack,” the guy blurted out before disappearing.

I smiled and shook my head as I lightly pressed the bump, wincing after doing it. “Well, I look great now. This is so typical.”

“Honey, bump or no bump, you’re adorable.”

The guy returned and shoved the cool pack at me. “I’d fuck ya.”

“Thanks, guys.” I offered a half smile, throwing the bloody towel in the trash. “I’m okay, really. I have no plans to sue.”

“Well, I’d still fuck ya.” He winked as I walked out of the bathroom and back into the plane.

“That’s very sweet?” I pressed the cold pack on the bump, somewhat confused by the fact that his comment was indeed sweet in a twisted, ego-boosting way. I looked at the girl. “I apologize for trying to kill you.”

We walked down the aisle once again and she smiled with a little wave. “No problem; it’s the most action I’ve seen in weeks.”

I thanked them for their help and left the plane. As I walked down the corridor, she yelled, “Good luck.” I waved back with my cold pack, hoping that Logan hadn’t left, thinking I missed my flight. As I walked through the gate, I looked around, not seeing him anywhere. I turned to my left to see Logan and another man talking to an employee from the airline. He turned to see me.