Role Play (28 page)

As the other guys shook
my hand, I could feel how muscled the ramp rats were, like me. Some older and others were younger versions of myself. Tough men who worked in the toughest conditions on the edge of Flushing Bay.

As
I pulled out my headset, Kevins came over to me. “You know you can put in for supervisor now that you’ve been on for ten.”

I
didn’t think I heard right. “I don’t have any college.”

“Doesn’t matter, if you’ve got the years.”

I repeated, “Supervisor…”

“I’
ll recommend you,” Kevins added. “And so would Davis. We’d take you in our ranks any day.”

That meant a lot to me to hear him say that. More than I could admit.

A long time ago, probably when I got hired on, I vaguely remember being told of the ten year mark. But I had forgotten it and settled into who I was, especially after Adrianne had confirmed my low opinion of myself. I never had a thought about moving ahead. “What would I have to do?”

“There’s a written comprehension test.
A couple other tests that you shouldn’t have any problem with. Once you fill it out, you hear back in a few weeks.”

“
How long before I get promoted?”

“Right then,
most likely. We’re short supervisors. They keep moving to TSA.” Kevins grinned. “What do you say? We need a good man onboard.”

I had to put my hand out to support myself against my locker. It was like a curtain had been ripped off, and I was seeing my job for
the first time. I’d spent so many years putting myself down for being a baggage handler, just because some stupid woman thought it wasn’t good enough.

But I was good at it. I liked getting the planes in and out safely, with
everyone relying on me to do my job. Even baggage handling—I took care of their things, and I didn’t tolerate thieves or men who were careless. I liked being strong enough to work a long, hard day. And I was proud that the supervisors relied on me. They gave me responsibility because I didn’t let them down. And that’s why Kevins was offering me their support now.

It made me feel good.
Real good. Like this whole time I was accomplishing something big, something that would count for more and make my life better, simply by working hard. Without even knowing I was doing it.

T
hen I thought of Sierra. If I could clinch a promotion, then I would be a supervisor. It wasn’t an executive, but I hadn’t told her much about my job. Then the only big thing I had lied about was my supposed house in Connecticut.

For
the first time, I had an eerie feeling that my double life could merge ahead with my real life. I could be the man Sierra was looking for. Maybe not as rich as she expected, but a man on his way up.

For her,
I could work harder than I ever had before.

For myself, I would never give up. My eyes had been opened. Look what I had accomplished in spite of myself.

Now, I could do more.

“Can I fill out
the application now?” I asked.

My
supervisor laughed and clapped me on the shoulder. “Use my office.”

...

I wanted to rush over to see Sierra after work and tell her the good news. But I didn’t think it was good enough news to overcome the fact that I was still actually a baggage handler and had been lying to her all along.

If
I was already working in management, then I only had to admit that the degree of my success and riches wasn’t as high as I had led her to believe.

It was almost too good a break to be true.

I mulled it over all day, and realized the only way was to stop seeing her until my promotion came through. I would have to stall her for a few weeks. That would be my atonement, my way of marking a pause in our relationship, of letting her know how serious I understood my lies were. That way, I might come out of this with Sierra in my arms.

I
passed by the 7 train station, knowing it would be impossible for me to put on the brakes if I saw Sierra in person. Last night it had taken sheer will power to leave her room, when I wanted nothing more than to lie down with her and hold her all night. My senses were almost overcome as I sat next to her, and I had been close to tossing away my good intentions and kissing her.

But
I couldn’t be a Dick.

So
I went home. The first thing I saw was the photo of my so-called Connecticut house. I ripped the back off the frame and tore the photo to pieces. That lie was over.

With
my feet firmly on a new path of honesty, I called Sierra.

She picked up quickly, like she had been waiting for
my call. “Yes?”

My
heart twisted—she sounded so scared. She was afraid of what I was going to tell her. I wished I didn’t have to do this. But I had to.

“Are you okay?”
I asked.

“As much as I can be.
What did you want to tell me?”

I
took a deep breath. “I know you want to have a real relationship. I do, too, believe me. I never have before, but with you… it feels right.”

“Oh, Victor!” she exclaimed, so happy.

“I only need a few weeks, and then I’ll be able to explain everything.”

There was a few moments of silence, then
she asked, “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“What? No! I don’t have a girlfriend. I
want to be with you… but I need a few weeks.” I realized I was sweating. “Is that too much to ask, Sierra?”

She took a deep breath.
“No, it’s not too much.”

“Okay.”
I was relieved. “Good. Let me know if you see Dick.”

Faintly, she
repeated, “Okay…”

“Promise?”
I insisted.

“I promise.”

When I hung up, I felt like shit, but at least it wasn’t the end of the world. We could wait a few weeks, and then when I confessed, it wouldn’t be such a sharp come-down for her. She wouldn’t lose all respect for me.

She’d
see that I hadn’t meant to lie to her, and hopefully she would be able to forgive me.

Chapter 26

Sierra

I
felt awful. Even Candice didn’t know what to make of it.

There was something going on that was bad enough
to keep Victor away from me. The natural conclusion was some other woman was in the picture. And he needed to be off with the old before he was on with the new.

At first
I kept remembering the concern in his voice, and the way he said, “I want to be with you…” It was enough to make me patient. I also got a text every day from him asking about my ankle, and if I had seen Dick. By the end of the week, my ankle was healed, but his
How are you?
texts kept coming.

It felt weird to be in touch but not really talking. That felt wrong on a gut level. Either he cared enough to want to see
me, or he didn’t.

Gradually
I began to think this was a stall, and he was slipping away the easy way. But why not just tell me it was over?

Maybe b
ecause he was conflicted. Part of him wanted me while another part of him didn’t. There was nothing false about the passion that flared between us whenever we got close. But I could see how he tried to hold back from me.

It made
me feel judged, and it was so unfair! My life had been smooth sailing for the past few years. I had everything under control, even though I walked a tightrope to make it that way. It wasn’t my fault that everything happened to come unhinged when I met him.

His feelings were written in his texts as clear as day, in how short and blunt they were, asking if
I was okay. Whenever I texted back that I was getting off from work soon, or it was my day off, or I was out with Devi or on the roof, he always texted back one word:
Good.

I
didn’t trust a man who wouldn’t talk to me. So I couldn’t trust this forced separation.

A
nother week later, and I had had enough. I didn’t answer his text, so he texted his question again:
Are you okay?

A couple of hours passed before he tried again.
Is Dick bothering you?

Irritated,
I finally texted back:
Don’t worry about Dick. He’s long gone. You don’t have to text anymore to ask.

His quick response came back:
I’ll stop asking if you promise to let me know if you see him.

I
flung up my hands, at a complete loss for understanding. Why did he care? It wasn’t like Victor wanted to be with me. I didn’t answer him.

A couple hours later,
I got another text from Victor:
Promise me.

What would he do if
I kept ignoring him? Would he come see me again? Maybe talk to me about what was really going on?

I
could passive-aggressively force the issue by ignoring him, but I had told him he could have a few weeks.

So
I finally texted back:
Ok.
I even added the period to let him know it was settled.

After that,
I heard nothing from him. Not for days. I almost regretted telling him to stop texting. Those little daily signs that he was thinking about me had kept me going. Now, without them, I felt like it was really over.

Candice stopped asking about
Victor around then, like he was old history.

The only good thing was
my final exam, which I did well on, having nothing else to do but study after Victor went on silent running. I expected to get my degree in the mail in the next couple of weeks. For such a life-changing event that I had worked hard for years to achieve, it felt completely flat. I texted my mom to let her know, but I didn’t bother telling my brothers.

I
wasn’t even sure when to celebrate. After my exam? When I got my final grade? Or when I opened the envelope with my degree?

It was that random. And typical of
my new life, which was unpredictable in so many ways. It felt odd to finish that huge effort and have nothing to devote my evenings to. Study had filled a lot of my spare time. I had spent so long doing nothing but keeping my head down and plowing ahead with my work.

Now
I was bobbing alone in the ocean, with possibilities opening around me. Except for the one thing I really wanted—Victor.

So
I felt perfectly justified in going to the one source where I could find out about him—his profile on the fetish community website. I had found it the night before I went to the Sanctuary.

Victor
’s profile wasn’t updated, and neither was Lola’s, when I checked. For the whole summer, since he had known me, there were no posts or new photos added. The wall messages posted by women had been left hanging.

I knew
Lola was hiding from Dick. Who was Victor hiding from?

I
followed the various messages back to their owners until I found KoalaKarla. I was pretty sure that Karla was the woman Victor had been with at the Sanctuary.

Karla was
barely active with a few posts in groups and on friends’ photos. But under events she was going to, she had listed Pleasure Salon on this upcoming Friday night.

I
was really tempted to go. Even though spying had gotten me into trouble with Lola, it had also clarified things and let me finally confront the problem. No matter what the downside was, moving into the Greenpoint loft was the best thing I had done for myself in a long time. It had shaken me out of my complacency and opened up new friendships. Lola was right—we couldn’t rely only on each other for support anymore.

I
had grown to love the nights on the rooftop more than anything I had ever done in the city. The conversations never stopped, the energy was incredible, and I liked the crazy struggling hopeful people who lived so closely together. We were a family in a way, loose-knit and independent. But someone was always there when I got home. It made me feel like I wasn’t alone.

I
was also mulling over Candice’s advice, to go out and take what I wanted. To stop waiting and letting life pass me by. So why not take control of the situation with Victor again? Seeing him at the Sanctuary had brought us closer, for that night anyway. I could tell I had broken through something as we lay in each other’s arms all night.

But then he retreated again.
It made me think that more was going on, whether a woman was involved or not. Victor had a serious block, and I needed to find out what was behind that block.

So t
hat’s how I ended up going to Pleasure Salon again at Happy Endings. I reasoned the bar wasn’t far from Victor’s place, and if he was going out, that was the most likely spot he would be going tonight.