Page 32 of Cleats and Pumps

I pushed off the ground and let the swing take me, hoping it wouldn’t bend in the middle from my weight. Luckily it held, ’cause swinging had always been how I’d worked through a hell of a lot of Dad-pressure issues.

Josiah and I hung out for a while until his phone buzzed. He looked at it and smiled. “Hey, my boyfriend Saram wants to go down to Millie’s for dinner and a beer. Wanna join us?”

“Hell, yes,” I said, knowing it was my best excuse for escaping Dad’s ongoing tirade about my bad career choices. Besides, I liked Saram. From Lebanon, he was smart, funny, and didn’t put up with Josiah’s shit. He was perfect for him.

“Okay, go get dressed. I told him we’d meet him there in an hour.”

“Yeah, thanks. I’m sorry to be a third wheel, but for real, I need rescuing from Dad.”

Josiah looked at me and sighed. “To be honest, brother, Dad’s not gonna let this go anytime soon. I recommend you find somewhere else to crash. Does your buddy Owen still have the room you stayed in when you came down before?”

“Yeah, I’ll call him tomorrow. I’d intended to stay here, spend time with the family, but shit, you’re right. He’s not giving this up.”

I left Josiah texting Saram, probably about tonight, and went to my old bedroom to get ready. I thought about wearing myhoodie and dark glasses, and then shrugged it off. I’m sure someone would recognize me, but this was a gay restaurant/bar, and when we’d gone there in the past with my brother, hardly anyone paid me much attention, once I made it clear I wasn’t looking, that is.

Besides, if it was too much, I could always just come home. At least I’d be out of the house and could get some space from my father and his incessant disappointment.

17

Tommy

Ididn’tgettothebar until later. Owen and Jason waved me over, and I smiled. I thought tonight would be a new chapter in my life. When I noticed no one was with Owen and Jason, I asked if the other guys had bowed out.

Jason laughed. “Um… no,” he said, pointing at the dance floor. Jason’s brother was grinding against a hunk of a guy. I knew at first glance where those two were headed.

“You okay?” Owen asked, and I turned to see concern on his face.

“Oh, yeah!” I lied, then plopped down in the seat facing away from the two guys, grabbed Owen’s beer, which was still full, and drank half of it. “Dear God, I needed that,” I said and got a cocked eyebrow from Owen. “What? You were right. I needed to get out. Now I’m going to get shit-faced, so plan on me crashing on your extra bed tonight,” I said, ignoring my friend’s worried look as I downed the rest of his beer.

The alcohol had the desired effect. I switched to shots, enjoyed the mind-numbing buzz, and danced with several guys as the night went on, letting myself get drunker and drunker.

I could’ve sworn I saw Amos at one point, but I shook that thought off. Nope, Amos Clark had no place in my head any longer. I needed to wash that man right out of my head… or hair. Fuck, I couldn’t even remember the lyrics to that song.

A pair of big dark arms wrapped around me, grinding up against my ass as Cassette sang “Tell Me Why” in the background. God, that felt good. I couldn’t help but think of Amos and his big, strong arms. I let the stranger move me, no longer sober enough to care that I wasn’t supposed to think about Amos.

When the song ended, I turned to see who was dancing behind me, and Amos stared back. “Tommy.”

“Fucking shit!” I said and stumbled into the group of men behind me.

“Tommy, sorry. I-I thought you saw me.”

“I can’t…” I said, and the tears flowed. “I can’t dance with you, Amos. I love you.”

I knew my inebriated mouth was saying too much, but I couldn’t stop. I did love him. I wanted him to know that. I loved him, and he’d hurt me. “You don’t love me though. You don’t want me like I want you.”

Someone snapped a picture that flashed behind me, and Amos took my arm and pulled me out of the crowd. “Where are we going? I can’t go with you, Amos. I love you, and you don’t want me. I don’t know why you don’t want me. I loved you more than anyone could love you. But you like women, or maybe you’re still fucked up. You were always fucked up about your sexuality.”

Owen came over and took my other arm, and I sensed Jason was with him. Although now I’d started talking, I couldn’t seem to stop.

I dozed between declarations of love but woke up in the car as we drove down the road. I needed Amos to know how much I loved him. I should’ve said that to him before now. Why had Ithought it was best not to? Amos was a good man. He would’ve listened to me. I knew that. “You love me, don’t you? Like a brother… you love me like a brother,” I said, leaning into him and trying to bat my eyes like some old movie trollop, as my grandmother called them. I’d never liked old movies, but I did like to watch the slutty Mae West characters. No wonder gay men liked her so much. I might like her, but I would never be a good trollop. I sucked at being gay. “Nobody thinks I’m sexy. I’m just boring. I’m so sorry, Amos. I wish I wasn’t so boring so you’d love me as much as I love you.”

I don’t remember getting back to Owen’s house. I don’t even remember getting out of the car, but sometime in the middle of the night, I woke up and saw Amos’s beautiful body lying next to me. I was still drunk enough that I didn’t run screaming from the room. However, what I did do was something I’d wanted for a long damned time: I rolled over and curled into his big, sexy frame.

When his arms enfolded me, I sighed with pleasure. I’d had that dream before, and it was one of my favorites. I would enjoy it as long as it lasted.

18

Amos

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