The Other Side of Someday (16 page)

At the farmer’s market on San Vicente.

Oh, Miss Dixie, I can tell you right now that boy is not straight, even if he says he is. I’ll come down and give him a thorough exam, though. One can never be too sure about these things
.

I bet you will
.

“Everything okay?” Dennis asked.

I spun around, dropping my phone back into my bag.

“Of course. Just answering my friend’s text.”

We made our way through the crowded market and I continued to study him, tempted to see how much further I should take this. “He lives in my building. There’s a group of us who get together every Thursday for game night, and we’ve kind of grown close. He’s probably the first openly gay man I’ve ever met.” I laughed, waiting to see his response. If he were gay, surely he’d mention it at this point, wouldn’t he? This was the perfect opportunity.

Instead, he simply smiled back. “Sounds like you’re making lots of new friends in town.”

“I am,” I agreed, slinging my bag over my opposite shoulder, leaving my hand open for him to hold if he wanted to. Instead, he maintained that same respectful distance as we strolled through the market. It was set up on a blocked off street, vendors standing behind long tables piled high with some of the freshest produce I had ever seen…strawberries, corn, zucchini, oranges. The aroma of herbs invaded my senses and I felt inspired once more. Inspired to stock up on fresh produce and cook something with my finds, crossing another item off my mother’s list.

I continued through the open-air market, wanting to scope it all out before making any decisions. As we neared a grassy area, a bounce house for the kids set up, a smell that brought back childhood memories hit me. “Is that funnel cake?”

“Smells like it.”

“Reminds me of all the county fairs back home,” I said under my breath, closing my eyes and inhaling, instantly transported back twenty years.

Nearly every summer, my father would take me to the annual county fair. It was one of the few things I looked forward to because it was a day reserved just for us. He didn’t bring along my step-mother, step-brother, or step-sisters. It was like old times. He would let me go on as many rides as I liked and would cater to my every whim. Before heading back home, we would always make one last stop… The funnel cake stand. I would try to savor the delicious doughy concoction as much as I could, knowing my time alone with my father was coming to an end. To this day, whenever I tasted the combination of deep-fried dough and confectioner’s sugar, I could hear my father’s booming laughter in my head.

“Me, too,” Dennis agreed, bringing me back from my memory. “That’s what I miss the most about Texas. The county fairs. You just look at some of the food they have and immediately gain twenty pounds.”

“Doesn’t look like it was a problem for you.”

“Really?” Raising his eyebrows, he faced me.

“Absolutely. I’m sure you had all the girls chasing after you back home.” I willed him to take the bait and say something,
anything,
in response. Maybe Sebby was wrong. I had given him several opportunities to admit he was gay, yet he didn’t. “Well, now that we’ve scoped it out, time to get our hands on some of this stuff, don’t you think?” I gestured with my head back toward the way we had come.

“Sounds good to me.”

“So…,” I began after several awkward silent moments passed. “What do you do for a living? After our conversation the other day, I kind of thought you were an actor.”

“I audition for roles in my spare time, but I
do
have a real job, something that pays the bills when I’m between acting gigs.”

“And that is…?”

“I work for a large accounting firm downtown.”

“How does one make the jump from accounting to acting? It reminds me of
The Producers
.”

“God, I loved Matthew Broderick in that,” he said with an excitement in his voice that was completely new. “Didn’t you?”

“I prefer the original, to be honest.” I wondered if the only reason he preferred the remake was because it was a musical. “Don’t get me wrong, I loved the musical version of it. I howled with laughter during ‘Keep It Gay’.” I eyed him.

“Imagine seeing it live,” Dennis countered, a smile on his face. “The stage production did a run out here at the Pantages Theater in Hollywood a few years ago. I went with one of the guys who lives in my building…”

I tried to ignore the giant red flag waving in front of me at the mention of him going to see a musical with a man from his apartment building in West Hollywood. Or maybe his friend was a struggling actor, as well.
 

“That entire scene had us roaring with laughter. Nothing like watching a bunch of gay men dancing on stage.”

And, just like that, the giant red flag waving in front of me turned rainbow-colored.

Heading toward the closest stand to subdue what could only be described as an immature case of the giggles, I said, “These strawberries smell delicious.” I surveyed them, the red, juicy fruit bigger than anything I could get back east. “I’m going to have to buy some. They’ll be perfect for my grandma’s famous strawberry shortcake.”

“Sounds delicious.”

“A pound of strawberries, please,” a familiar voice cut through…but not Dennis’. I snapped my head to my left, my mouth agape when I saw Sebby standing next to Marcel, grins on both their faces. I had expected Marcel to show up to provide his expert opinion, but I didn’t anticipate seeing Sebby standing next to him.

“Oh, hi, Baylee.” He feigned surprise at seeing me there. “What a coincidence.”

“Sure is,
Sebastian
.” I smiled through my clenched jaw, placing my hands on my hips in irritation. “
Marcel
,” I continued in the same tone, making it apparent I wasn’t pleased with him for bringing Sebby along.

“Who are your friends?” Dennis asked, surveying both Marcel and Sebby from head to toe. There was a heat in his eyes that he never had when he was looking at me. He licked his lips, his eyes still raking over Marcel’s tall, lean body. I could sense that his interest in Marcel went beyond just politely wanting to know who my friends were.

“Hi. I’m Sebby.” Grinning, he held his hand out for Dennis to shake. “I’m her neighbor.”

“And I’m Marcel,” my typically non-theatrical friend said rather flamboyantly, making it obvious that he was gayer than Liberace.

“Nice to meet you,” Dennis responded, keeping his eyes glued to Marcel’s as they shook hands amicably…although it certainly lasted longer than necessary.

“Likewise.”

“Do you live in Baylee’s building, too?”

“I do, but not in one of the penthouses like these two.” Marcel gestured between Sebby and me. “I’m slumming it on one of the lower levels.”

“I’ve been in that building,” Dennis interjected. “I wouldn’t exactly call it slumming. I don’t even want to think about what one of those places costs.”

“What can I say?” Marcel replied. “The interior design industry is jumping these days.”

“You’re a designer?” He closed the distance between him and Marcel. I started to feel like a third wheel. “I’m actually in the market for someone to come and add some life to my place.”

“I bet he is,” Sebby whispered to me, his voice barely audible.

“Stop it,” I hissed back. “He could be interested in Marcel because he’s a designer. I latched onto him when I found that out, too, ya know.”

I returned my attention to Dennis and Marcel’s conversation, but I was no longer listening to the words coming out of their mouths. All I knew was that Dennis seemed to be very interested in whatever Marcel was saying, laughing every so often as he brushed his hand on Marcel’s toned arm.

“Dennis? Fancy running into you today,” a booming male voice called out.

Dennis tore his attention away from Marcel for the first time since he laid eyes on him, his demeanor changing when he saw the source of the voice. Turning back to us, he looked at me, then to Marcel. “Will you all excuse me for a minute? I’ll be right back.” He rushed off, which struck me as odd. Maybe things were different out here, but when I was with someone and ran into a friend, I would always introduce them, not run off.

Turning to Marcel, I timidly asked, “So, what’s your professional opinion?”

“Oh, Miss Dixie,” he began, placing his hand on my shoulder in a consoling manner. “If that man isn’t gay, someone should give him a SAG card for that amazing performance.”

“SAG card?” I turned to Sebby.

“Screen Actor’s Guild.”

“Right.” I nodded, then faced Marcel. “But I gave him more than enough opportunities to come clean and tell me. When I mentioned girls falling all over him, he didn’t correct me. Don’t you think—”

“Not necessarily,” Sebby said. “There may be some reason he wants everyone around him to believe he’s straight. Maybe his job. Maybe his family. At the very least, you owe it to yourself to just come out with it and ask him. You both need to be on the same page.”

My eyes widened at the thought. “But what if he isn’t? Then he’ll think
I
think he’s gay and it will ruin whatever this could be.”

“I doubt he’s straight,” Sebby insisted. “And I’ll prove it to you.” He nodded toward Dennis, who had broken into a light jog to rejoin us.

“Sorry,” he said, approaching. “That was just a friend.”

“An old
boy
friend,” Sebby mumbled in my ear. I elbowed him in the gut, causing him to let out a barely audible groan. “Dennis,” he continued, not even missing a beat. He turned his attention to the stand in front of us, large fruits and vegetables displayed on the line of tables. Sebby picked up a gargantuan-sized zucchini. “You appear to take care of yourself. Maybe you can settle a disagreement between Baylee and me. Which do you prefer as a snack? Melons or zucchini?”

My eyes grew wide, my face burning. I should have been absolutely livid with Sebby, but I found myself stifling a laugh.

“Melons have more natural sugars,” Dennis responded, ignoring the double entendre. “I love zucchini, though. Look how big they are right now, even this late in the season! It’s certainly more than a mouthful, isn’t it?”

“It sure is,” Sebby agreed, a satisfied smirk on his face.

I glared at him and Marcel, who was also trying to hide his laughter, albeit unsuccessfully.
 

“Well…,” Marcel said when I gave him the death stare. “We don’t want to intrude on your
date
.”

“You’re not,” Dennis insisted.

“No, we are,” Sebby added. “We’ll leave you to your afternoon. Hope to see you around, Dennis.” They shook hands before Sebby turned to me, mouthing,
Just ask him
.

“Likewise.” Dennis shook Marcel’s hand, the exchange again seeming to last longer than necessary.

I spent the rest of the afternoon forking out a small fortune on fresh produce, cheese, meats, and anything else that caught my eye, all while trying to work up the courage to ask Dennis if he was gay. I didn’t know why it was so difficult for me. Maybe I just hated to admit I was so naïve that I didn’t have the wherewithal to see the signs.

After loading up his car with all my purchases, Dennis drove me back to my building and pulled my bags out of his trunk, handing them to me. If this was a date, now would be the perfect time for him to kiss me. We stared at each other for several long moments, but the awkwardness I imagined building between us right before our first kiss was absent.

Sighing, I briefly closed my eyes. “Dennis…” I paused. “Are you gay?”

He stiffened his spine, taken aback. “What? Where is this coming from?”

I shuffled my feet, wondering if maybe Sebby and Marcel were wrong. If Dennis
was
gay, why wouldn’t he just come out and admit it when asked? I couldn’t imagine wanting to keep that a secret, especially out here, where it appeared most everyone was open to different races, cultures, and sexual orientation.

“It’s just something I’ve been thinking about. That’s all.”

He stared at me, not responding.

“Dennis…” I took a step closer. “It’s okay if you are. I don’t think it’s anything to be ashamed of, and you shouldn’t, either.”

“So…what?!” he exclaimed, slightly exasperated. “Just because I live in WeHo, like musical theater, and do yoga, that makes me gay?”

“No,” I insisted, although those were certainly on my list of things pointing to him being gay. “That’s not it at all. It’s just… Well, to be honest, it looked like you were more interested in Marcel than me…which is perfectly okay,” I added quickly, noticing his annoyance rising.

“Well, thanks for your concern, Baylee,” he hissed, spinning on his heels dramatically. If he were wearing a scarf, I could just picture him whipping it over his shoulder for added flair. “But I’m not gay. I’m as straight as they come.” He jumped into his car and peeled out of the porte-cochere. As he pulled away, I could have sworn I heard the opening lines of “Lullaby of Broadway” from
42
^nd
Street
blaring from his car.

I was going to have to find a new yoga studio.

C
HAPTER
T
WELVE

G
UILT
SEEPED
ITS
WAY
into my conscience as I unloaded all my produce and put it away. Marcel and Sebby seemed so sure Dennis was gay. I kind of was, too. I didn’t mean to stereotype him based on his likes and interests, not to mention the way he occasionally carried himself, but I thought all the signs were there. Even Marcel with his “finely-tuned gaydar”, as he called it, insisted he was. Where did we all go wrong?

After changing out of my sundress, which didn’t even get me a kiss because I had to open my big mouth, I collapsed on the couch and turned on the TV, flipping aimlessly through the channels. Not finding anything, I put on a movie I had seen at least a dozen times and simply stared at the screen, lying snuggled up with Sport. I wavered between being angry with Sebby and Marcel, and being upset with myself for thinking it was a good idea to ask Dennis whether or not he was gay. I hated thinking there could have been something between us. Now I would never find out.