The Right Words (27 page)

Not that it mattered. There was no news anywhere about a Los Angeles-based player or a scandal in the works.

“Has there been an alien invasion I should worry about?”

“Hmm. What?” I tossed the remote control aside in frustration.

“Lukey. Something apocalyptic must have occurred and no one sent me the memo. What the fuck is going on? ESPN? This is not normal. It’s got to be a cry for help.”

I normally would have chuckled at Brandon’s incredulous tone and comedic expression, but he was right. “Normal” as we knew it had been breached. I couldn’t justify my interest without telling Bran every detail I’d left out over the past couple months.

“I don’t know what’s going on but it has something to do with Jamie. He must have threatened to out Michael again. Maybe he asked for more money, or came up with some incriminating picture taken by a long-range lens or may—”

“Hold up! What are you talking about? I thought you were working on a house and getting a little something on the side. What do you mean ‘incriminating photos’? I can’t let you out of my sight for a minute without a new kind of crazy popping up. Explain.”

There was no point arguing. I hated the worry I saw in his eyes, and the truth was, I needed my friend. I couldn’t keep this to myself any longer.

“This is going to take a while….” I turned on the sofa and faced Brandon, sitting cross-legged.

He gave me a pointed stare before mimicking my pose and lifting his eyebrows. “I got nothing but time.”

Friends are the best therapists. The best ones know you better than you know yourself sometimes. Brandon didn’t need to ask “How does that make you feel?” or any other delving questions. He knew without me saying. I was scared, angry, and anxious. And because I’m a complete idiot, I was also hopeful. Funny enough, Brandon caught on quickly.

“You’re in love with him.”

I hung my head mournfully. Bran’s observation was rhetorical. ESPN surely gave me away before I’d given away my deep dark secrets.

“Wow. For an unassuming gay boy who likes to slide under the radar, you tend to go for the biggest most difficult fish in the pond, don’t you?”

“I know it’s hopeless, but I—”

Brandon sighed deeply. “Nothing is hopeless, Luke. But….”

“What?”

“If he’s not out or he gets outed publically, things might get complicated. Are you ready for that nonsense or is it better to let go?” Brandon stood up and brushed a comforting hand over my shoulder. “I’ll get the tequila while you think about it.”

I
RECEIVED
a call from Tonio the next day. I was at BGoods folding God only knows what for the umpteenth time when I jumped at the vibration of my cell in my back pocket. I didn’t recognize the number, but details like that didn’t matter in times of uncertainty. And this was definitely one of those times.

“Hello?”

“Is this Luke?” A heavily accented male voice asked.

“Yes. Who—”

“This is Tonio. Listen please. You’re listening?”

“Yes?”

“You no longer have any contact with Michael. If anyone calls you or asks you about him, you answer one way only. You say I worked for him for a very short time. You don’t say anything else. Understood?”

“What’s going on?”

“There’s nothing more to say. You don’t know him.”

“I
do
know him. I know him very well and I won’t—”

“
No!
This isn’t about you. It isn’t even about Michael. There is no place for the selfish attitude. None. There are too many people who count. You see? This is over.” He hung up before I could process his speech, let alone form a retort.

“Who was that?” Brandon left his new trainee to hurry to my side.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

“Luke. Go sit in my office. I’ll be right there.”

I did as I was told.

“Who was on the phone?” Brandon joined me a few minutes later and sat on the corner of his desk with his arms crossed over his chest. He was wearing a floral-print shirt, which should have lessened the impact of his fierce expression. Instead he looked like he could kick some serious ass and was intent on finding out who to go after first.

“Michael’s manager.”

“Do not make me play twenty questions, Lucas. Tell me what the man said.”

I filled him in and admitted I didn’t know what to do. “I haven’t talked to Michael in a few days and I feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Things were easier when I thought we had two weeks together. I figured we’d spend the majority of it in bed and somehow I’d find a way to say good-bye. Now it’s open-ended and I feel like a fool.”

“You’re not a fool. The way I see it, you have a couple options. Number one, you tell him you’re in love with him, ask him to come out and live a happy homo life with you.”

I shook my head. “I wouldn’t ask him to come out. He has to do it on his own.”

“Agreed. Option two, you go on as lovers who act like friends in public. Aka, mistress slash secret boy toy.”

“No. Not interested.”

“Last option.” Brandon paused until I looked him in the eye. “You move on.”

Everything in me stopped, including my heart.

“It’s what you said you were going to do, right? You said you thought you’d have two weeks until the furniture arrived and it was time to act like Mary Poppins and go save another house.”

“Yes, but….”

Brandon sighed theatrically and hopped off the corner of the desk.

“I love you, Luke. And if you love a man, I want to love him for you. I want to know he’s going to be everything you need and more. But if he’s not….”

He picked up a magazine from a nearby table and sat in the chair next to mine. When he started flipping through the pages, I gave him a puzzled frown. My life was unraveling, and he chose now to show me a fashion trend from a trashy celebrity mag?

He stopped suddenly and for once his normally expressive face was unreadable. “This is today’s offering of celebrity trash, which means the photos are fairly recent. I’m guessing this is his publicist’s way of dealing with Jamie.”

He handed the magazine to me at the page he’d settled on and shifted uncomfortably back in his chair. “You need to know what loving someone who doesn’t publicly acknowledge you will be like. No blinders, Luke.”

I was mystified. It wasn’t like Brandon to be anything but straightforward. “Showing” wasn’t his thing. I looked down at the opened page. There were photos of couples doing “normal” things like putting gas in their car or walking their dog or walking on the beach.

“What does this have to do with—”

“Look at the photo, Luke.” He leaned across and pointed at the picture of the couple on the beach strolling hand in hand.

Holy fuck! It was Michael. He was wearing his ubiquitous beanie hat and workout clothes like he did most cold mornings when we walked. I recognized the rocky cliff background and knew the photo had been taken in Corona del Mar. I felt as though I’d been there. In fact, I knew I had! It was a photo of us. Except it wasn’t. It was Michael holding hands with a beautiful woman. She held her long blonde hair away from her face with her left hand as she smiled up at him in adoration. The large diamond visible even at a distance told me the caption before I read a word.

That familiar floating, weightless quality came over me. I felt as though I were watching myself and Brandon from somewhere above. I wasn’t of the moment. I was an observer. To be in the moment would be to subject myself to a torment I wasn’t sure I could physically handle. It would bring me to my knees in a way nothing ever had before. I thought my experience with Neil was a low point. I’d been so angry with myself for not getting out of that relationship sooner. But I’d also learned to forgive myself. I learned to respect myself again. When I looked at the doctored photo of Michael walking with a lovely girl, knowing it was me who’d been literally cut out to make way for the version of the picture the public would see, I knew I’d lose my very being if I didn’t get away quickly. Every bit of the self-respect I’d fought so hard to reclaim would be gone. I’d be a shell. A nothing.

“I’m sor— Luke? Are you okay?”

I tossed the magazine back at Brandon and ran for the bathroom. He found me on my knees embracing the toilet as my body shook and heaved. I had nothing left in me when I curled into a ball and wrapped my arms tightly around my calves. Tears streamed down my face, a cathartic release to go along with the contents of my stomach. Brandon sat beside me on the cold tile and held my hand.

“I’m so sorry, Luke. I didn’t show you that picture to upset you. If you think you can handle a life where your man is in trashy magazines with his girlfriend and eventually his wife and kids whi—”

“She was Photoshopped, Bran. He was with me.”

“Does it matter?” His eyes were sorrowful.

“No, it doesn’t.”

Actions spoke louder than the best words sometimes. I knew this thing between Michael and I had no future, but I hated that it was ending like this. I was crushed. I felt like I’d been run over by a bus only to find myself flat on my back staring at the sky wondering what happened. It was time to pick up the pieces and move on. Again.

I
N
MY
quest to start anew, I decided to immediately change my cell phone number. It was a small measure I hoped would keep me from thinking about Michael and waiting for him to contact me. It was a lame attempt at building a barrier, but I was desperate.

I wasn’t sure my bright idea helped when my mother descended on BGoods the following day. She was irritated she couldn’t get a hold of me and demanded to know what, when, and why.

“Mom, it’s no big deal. Give me your phone and I’ll program my new number in—”

“It’s a man, isn’t it? You’re not happy again. I can tell. You’re too skinny. You look pale. When did you eat last? This isn’t good for you.” She stood in between a table of pricey knickknacks and a thousand dollar lamp waving her arms like a wizard who was having a hard time conjuring a spell.

I took a deep breath and decided “fuck it.” I was done denying my feelings. As everyone pointed out, I was a horrible actor anyway. Maybe she’d feel better knowing there was something tangible I needed to work out rather than me constantly telling her I was great.

“Mara, I’m a mess. I admit it. I fell for someone hard. He’s amazing and I wish I could have what I want, but….” I shrugged and shook my head.

Brandon overheard our exchange and hurried to my side to defuse any potential drama. My mother didn’t seem to be paying much attention as Brandon launched into how gorgeous she looked in her multiple layers of chiffon and her brilliant accessories. She was fixated on me. For the first time ever, I wasn’t holding back. And she noticed.

“Mom, I’m going to be fine. Try not to worry, okay?”

I wasn’t going to give her details, but why pretend? It drove us both crazy. She worried and I ended up trying to act like everything was cool when in fact it wasn’t. I felt my disappointments become hers, to the point I felt everything in stereo. My nightmare with Neil had been exacerbated by my mother’s anxiety. It choked me until eventually I felt like
I
was the cause of everyone’s disappointment. Hers and Neil’s. I decided I’d rather be honest. I was only human, and sometimes life sucked.

She wordlessly handed me her phone to enter my new number. When I returned her cell, our eyes met and held for a long moment. She offered me a tentative smile, which made me laugh. Mara didn’t do tentative well. I gave in to instinct and wrapped my arms around her, breathing in her signature fragrance as I held her tight.

“I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, darling. Want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly. Thank you, though.”

“For what?”

“Being you. Being there for me. I appreciate it.”

Her eyes watered, but her smile was brilliant when she placed a loving hand on my cheek and leaned in to kiss me. I rubbed at a bright red smudge of lipstick I knew would stain my cheek while she fluttered around the store. She picked up picture frames and design books and kept a steady stream of chatter up about anything and nothing. When she finally declared it was time for her to head out, she kissed me again and turned on her high heels and shouted a loud “adieu” to Brandon. I stood in a haze of Dior and watched her leave. She was a little wacky, but she was mine. And I was very grateful.

A
S
THE
days passed, I had second and third thoughts about changing my number. It was too impulsive and possibly a bit immature. I had an almost physical longing to talk to Michael and see him again. I even convinced myself I would be able to move on better if I could say a real good-bye. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. At least I’d stopped watching ESPN, I mused, as I switched channels between a game show and
Entertainment Tonight
.

“I hear wedding bells! So many engagements to report today, particularly in the world of sports! Looks like soccer star Michael Martinez and his girlfriend will be tying the knot this spring. The beautiful couple was spotted….”

What the fuck? Popcorn and M&M’s went flying as I struggled to sit up and adjust the sound on the television. The peppy, pretty blonde with perfectly curled long tresses smiled into the camera while her male cohost gave her a somewhat lascivious sideways glance. A studio backdrop showed a romantic setting of an ocean sunset and then the same photo Brandon had shown me from the magazine.

Who was this girl?

“Hi, honey. I’m home!” Brandon breezed into his living room carrying a bag of groceries. “Luke, what’s with the popc—holy shit!”

“I know. I don’t know what….”

My usually loquacious friend apparently didn’t either. He flopped onto the sofa beside me and grabbed a handful of popcorn.

“Luke….”

“I know. It’s okay. It’s over. I’m moving on.” I was sure my smile looked as awful and plastic as it felt.

Brandon kissed my cheek sweetly and ruffled my hair. “Good. Let’s go dancing tonight. Trev is working, and sugar, it has been way too long since we went somewhere fun to shake our stuff together. What do you say?”