My Best Man (37 page)

“Yes,” I yell, washing my face for the ninth time.

“My mother just told me! Your calls. A letter. How you never gave up. Will you please talk to me?”

“That’s my line,” I tell him, rinsing the soap off. “Please, Harry. I do want to talk,” he tells me. “The back door is open,” I answer.

Not thirty seconds later, he pulls back the curtain to the shower and stands naked in front of me. I look into his eyes and take a quick glance at his body. He’s gorgeous. “May I come in?” he asks.

I smile and do an anemic, abbreviated version of one of Amity’s sweeping arm gestures, inviting him in.

He steps in, takes the soap from my hands, turns me, and soaps my back. “I’m sorry. I’m an Italian at heart, my friend. I let my anger and emotions keep me from you at first, but by the time I realized I was wrong, you stopped calling or coming over. And I thought you had left me. I didn’t know that my mother was keeping us apart. She feels guilty -she wants to tell you herself. I am guilty too. I haven’t been fair. I should have listened to you in the beginning, and now my mother says time is running out.”

His strong hands are moving the soap in circles around my back

XilUy OuIIUii while the stream of hot water hits my chest. “All I want to do is explain,” I tell him, leaning into his hands.

“I’m ready,” he whispers in my ear.

“My father wasn’t like yours. His principles were strong, but not in the way your father’s probably were. He was shortsighted, only aware of his own little society. I guess what I’m trying to say is that he wasn’t so concerned with people living, as your father was, but with people living right.” I reach for the soap in his hands, and turn him around. His shoulders are big, like a swimmer’s, and his dark skin is made shiny by the sheet of water passing over. I soap his back and massage him. “That meant the right school, the right car, the right house, the right neighborhood. And gay people just didn’t live in that neighborhood know what I mean?”

He nods. “Yes.”

I move my hands down to his waist and over his ass, not in a sexual way, but with the strength of therapeutic massage. “You know about my horse, so you know what he’s capable of. Anyway, he put it in the will that, if I’m not married by this week, my birthday, I lose my inheritance. And it’s millions and millions, Nicolo.” I knead his beefy ass, pressing my thumbs into it, and he braces himself against the tile.

“Where did you learn this?” he asks.

“From my father’s attorney.”

“No. Where did you learn the massage ?”

“From my ex-boyfriend,” I tell him. “He was a swimmer, and he used to have to get massages to work out his cramps.” I look past his buttocks to the back of his powerful thighs and down to his calves. Man, even his heels are beautiful. “So at some point after meeting Amity, I realized I could still have my rightful claim, because she understood. Everything. And she was willing to help me, and I was willing to help her, and we could get married, but still have our relationships on the side. How was I supposed to know that I’d meet you and the whole thing would be tested?”

“Do you think she feels about Thomas the way you feel about me?” He turns around, faces me for the answer.

“Not at all,” I tell him. I drop the soap and it hits the tub with a clunk. There’s a moment of silence; then we both laugh. “Pick it up,” he orders, still laughing. “No way. You pick it up,” I tell him.

“Leave it for now,” he suggests. “We’ll decide who picks it up later.”

“Good idea.” I put my hands on his biceps, look him dead in the eye. “She doesn’t love Thomas. But I love you. And I want to live with you and be your mate.”

“I love you too,” he says, pulling my hands off his arms and holding them. “So shouldn’t the wedding be between you and me?”

I want it to be, but I don’t know if it can. I’m suffocating in the steam, and I have no answer to his question. “Are we done in here?” I ask him. He nods, and I turn off the shower, realizing this is the stupidest move of my life. I could have soaped the front of him. What a fool I am. I step out, dripping, and reach for an extra towel. Hand it to him. And watch as he towels himself dry.

He’s more than I imagined. The veins in his forearms run up through his biceps and continue into his chest until they disappear underneath the dark smattering of hair on his upper breast bone. His stomach has a line of hair that swirls around his belly button and runs down into his crotch. The v-shape of his abdomen above his genitals echoes the v-shape of his back and shoulders. His thighs are strong, and the hair underneath his knees, on his shins, is black and straight and luxuriant. I finally take a good look at his penis, and I’m completely magnetized by its beautiful, uncircumcised dark skin. It hangs heavily down, and his balls are darker still and full and loose.

“Can’t I have this other wedding first?” I ask, toweling myself off as well. I’m thankful for the results from the gym, because I’m no longer un confident with my body, but proud of its definition. My dick is slack, but extended in its relaxed state. “We can have anything we want. I’ll pay off our school loans. We can go to Argentina, both of us. We’ll take your mother and your brother with us. We can all have houses anywhere we choose. We can do volunteer work. You can write for anything you deem worthy. We can ride horses. It will be a life we could only imagine. Don’t you want that?”

“Yes,” he says honestly, “I do.”

“Then come to my wedding. In fact, be my best man! You can stand beside me.”

He slings his towel around his neck. “I want to be your best man ….. in life. Not at your wedding. If I go to your wedding, it is as your groom. Nothing else. What about Amity? You can’t just marry her, take your money, and leave. It’s not right. I would never respect you. And your mother would not allow it. I know this from meeting her. And my mother would not allow it.”

“Gay men and their mothers,” I sigh, shaking my head. “Why don’t you let me worry about all that?”

He takes the towel from his neck and wraps it around mine, pulling me close. “Because you can’t succeed at this. Even if we run away together, you will still be married to Amity.”

“On paper,” I tell him.

“In front of God,” he counters.

“God will see we have our fingers crossed.”

He closes his eyes, shakes his head no.

I realize he’s right. I have to call it off. Follow my heart. The only reason to marry is for love. Only love. Just as I start to speak, we hear the sound of screeching tires and a loud smash and then a thump and then heels clicking against the sidewalk. “Help! Harry! Help me!”

Nicolo and I run naked into the living room and through the sun porch to the front door just in time for Amity to come crashing

through. “Kim’s going to kill us! He found out we’re getting married!” she screams, slamming the door behind her and locking it. She turns around and sees Nicolo’s dick. “G’yaw!”

Out the front windows we see Kim’s Jaguar come skidding around the corner, hit the curb, jump into the yard, and smash into the BMW. “Fuck!” I yell, grabbing Amity and Nicolo and running back to my bedroom with them. “Shit!” I scream, realizing I’ve just run us all into a dead end. I turn them around, push them out.

“Come on!”

We shoot through the hall, and out into the living room again. I look out and see him running toward the house with a gun. I push Amity and Nicolo onward, toward the back of the house so we can escape through the kitchen and out the back door. We make it to the sitting room, and all of us smash into the coffee table, but instantly pick ourselves up and dart through the kitchen, then charge through the little laundry room and throw open the back door, Amity in front, Nicolo behind her, and me in the rear.

Kim, cutting us off at the pass, stands there, pointing the gun at us. “Back in house!” he barks, like a strung-out pit bull.

We slowly retreat, facing him, and Amity starts desperately negotiating. “Now, babe. I told you, Harry is gay. I just give him a place to hang his hat.”

“He hangs hat on your tits!” Kim spits.

“Don’t be crazy,” Amity says as we back through the kitchen. “These little titties couldn’t hold a book of matches! Now I mean it, Kim. It’s not what you think!”

“She’s telling the truth,” I say as we back into the sitting room. Nicolo and I are still without clothing, and my heart is pounding so hard I’m sure Nicolo feels it on his back. I’m scared because I can see the craziness in Kim’s eyes. He’s obviously on another cocaine hinge. He’s grinding his teeth, running his free hand through his greasy hair, and waving the gun as if it’s a sword. “This is my nay boyfriend,” I tell him, before I realize he may shoot me either way for being Amity’s boyfriend or for being gay.

Kim motions with the gun for us to get on the sofa. “Why do

I believe?” he yells.

We reach back, grab for the sofa, and ease ourselves down. “Look at them!” Amity implores. “They’re nudie naked! What the hell are two guys doing nudie naked together in the middle of the day!” Middle of the die!

“Waiting for you!” Kim says, cocking the trigger of the gun. “Jesus!” Nicolo cries.

“Bullshit!” I yell. “This is the man I love.”

“Prove to me or you die!” Kim decrees.

I look at Kim and read his sinister grin. I understand. Turning to Nicolo, I look into his eyes and press my lips into his, as I’ve been yearning to do since the day we rode horses. Nicolo kisses me back, and within a moment it’s as if we’re back in west Texas under the cottonwood trees, just the two of us and at this moment I know we’ll always be connected to each other, even if Kim blows us away.

“No good! Just a kiss!”

“What the hell do you want out?” Amity begs.

“More!” Kim says, his sinister grin now full on evil.

It’s a matter of life or death. Without a word, I slide down off the sofa onto my knees in front of Nicolo and put his dick in my mouth. He doesn’t move, nor does Amity, but I hear Kim’s footsteps come closer and realize he’s standing next to me. As I start to move up and down on Nicolo’s trembling dick, I sense the cold, shiny, metal next to my temple. Waiting. Waiting to blow a hole in my head. From the corner of my eye, I see the gun. Nicolo, I’m sure, is too afraid to respond. He sits, motionless, and his penis is motionless as well, remaining soft and unresponsive in my mouth. Please, Nicolo. Work with me here, buddy. I pull back on his foreskin, close my eyes, and concentrate, knowing that I have to

give the most intense oral sex of my life or I’m going to die. And so I do, I just do. I relax into the rhythm, open my throat, and swallow it the way I swallowed that hot dog at the baseball park when I was twelve. No inhibitions. I take it all. Praying that it’s not my last supper.

And he responds. In kind. Unbelievably, for a guy who has a loaded gun pointed at his head. And I just keep going, fervently, madly, totally committed to saving all our lives.

“Stop!” Kim yells. I stop. Slowly raise my head. Nicolo’s dick is standing straight up.

“G’yaw!” Amity says with wide-eyed approval of Nicolo’s dick.

Kim points his gun at Amity. “He learned from you!” “What?” she asks incredulously.

“He does just like you. You have been with him. You taught him!”

“Christ on a crutch, Kim! How the hell do you teach a heterosexual guy to give a blow job like that? That’s like forcing an infant to eat a pork rib!” Amity is shaking with fear, and I don’t think she or Kim hears the car door slam outside. “If I offered to teach you how to give a killer blow job, would you get down on your knees and stick this guy’s dick in your mouth?”

Kim skews his face and spits on the hardwood floor. “No! Disgusting!”

“Well, OK then,” Amity tells him, stomping her foot. “You can’t teach a straight guy to blow like that!”

The front door smashes open, its lock broken by force. Kim wheels around and points the gun at Thomas. “Shit!” Amity shrieks. “What are you doing here?”

Thomas stands there, dumbfounded by his heroic entrance, realizing it’s a stupid move since he’s empty-handed and Kim holds the gun on him. “We’re supposed to go to the movies! Why didn’t you tell me to bring my gun?”

I look at Amity, see the scheduling screw up register in her head.

“Who fuck are you?” Kim spews at Thomas.

“Who the fuck are you?” Nicolo butts in. Until now, fear and surprise have kept his Latin temper in check, but now it comes roiling to the surface. Or maybe he’s just pissed that the blow job is over.

“Careful,” I tell him. “He’s not a member of PFLAG.” “What’s PFLAG?” Thomas asks.

“Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays,” Amity answers. “That’s right,” Kim barks. “I’m not no member!”

All I can think is that he’s used a double negative, which means he is a member of PFLAG. I’ll never be able to explain it to him.

“G’yaw!” Jacqueline yells from the lawn. “Your new car looks like shit, Harry! It looks like shit. Your new car. What in the ” She enters through the broken door. “G’yaw! He’s got a gun. A gun!”

“People shut up!” Kim yells, taking control of the room again. “Get in,” he orders Jackie.

“For Christ’s sake, Kim,” Amity wails. “You can’t shoot us all!”

I count. “Yes, he can. That thing’s a revolver. Five bullets, five people.”

Amity counts. “No, you gotta include Kim. People who shoot roomfuls of people always turn the gun on themselves. He wouldn’t have a bullet for himself, which means he’d have to go to prison” she turns to Kim “and get fucked up the ass for the rest of your life by big black men.

Kim winces.

The phone rings. No one moves. On the third ring, Amity walks to the phone, picks it up. “Hello? Susan! How are you?” she asks as if she’s lounging on a chaise by the pool. “Of course, he’s right

here. Harry,” she says, her hand over the receiver, “it’s your mother.”

I don’t move. Amity extends the phone my way and looks at me like take it. I slowly move to her, grasp the phone. “Yes, Mother?”

“Hi, dear. I’m calling to say never mind your airline tickets tomorrow. I was able to call in a favor with the Goldmans and they’re sending down the Lear jet for you. Isn’t that marvelous?” “Marvelous.”