Page 28 of The Texas Sterling Collection
“Mitzi, and it’s not garbage. When I find out who the gal is he’s pining after, I’ll take care of her.”
“Wait a minute, you accused me of trying to turn Wyl gay. Now you think there is another woman?”
“Of course. A tall, hunky Marine like Wyl? Falling for a guy like you?”
I fumed. “Stella, don’t forget I’m your boss. Do you want to reconsider or pack up your office because you’re fired for sexual harassment and insubordination?”
“F-f-fired?” Stella stared open-mouthed at me.
“You just accused me of having a sexual relationship with a student when you have no proof. You just hinted that I am not attractive enough to find a partner. And you just dismissed the questions I asked. That’s all I need to terminate your employment. And don’t even think about asking the college for a reference.”
“I didn’t mean that,” Stella pleaded with her eyes.
Her not-quite-an-apology rang hollow. “Your expression and your tone are unconvincing. You accused me of participating in gay recruiting. Gay recruiting does not exist. People either are or are not gay. Not only did you accuse me, but you were also participating in a false rumor. A rumor defaming me. This adds to the sexual harassment charge. Which of those parts did you not mean?”
“Um…”
“Whatever Alfonso said he saw is a total lie. He’ll have his own trouble when his boss finds out. I’m disappointed in Alfonso for thinking he is bettering himself through lies and in you for not defending me. You two can start a WBCC Former Employee Club.”
Stella’s almost-remorse disappeared. “Not defending you? You and Wyl used to drink coffee in your office before class, and you used quiet voices so I wouldn’t hear. You two might be having a full-blown affair.”
“How do you know we use quiet voices? Are you spying on us? Do you stand in the hallway and listen to our conversations?” My simmering fury came to a slow boil.
“No, but you two talk, then laugh. How am I supposed to know you’re talking about school?”
I set my coffee mug on the counter, put my fingers to my temples, and rubbed to ease the pounding headache. She made a valid point. We had been quiet, and we had shared tender words. But what we did in private was nobody’s business.
“By what possible stretch of the imagination would you think our conversation was anything else? Are you telling me you have a reason to think otherwise?”
Stella shook her head. “No.”
“I realize conversations about class do not make juicy gossip material, but believe me when I tell you, Wyl and I are not in a gay relationship. I will deal with Alfonso, and if you value your job, you will stop letting Mitzi tell you what to do. And if you don’t have the guts to do that, I’ll have the college file a restraining order against Mitzi. What Wyl does or does not do is his business, not hers or yours.” My head pounded as I stifled my anger and frustration.
“Fine!” She flounced out of the break room.
I was ready to storm into her office to tell her to pack up and leave, but hasty emotional reactions are never sound. I needed to cool off. I entered my office, slammed the door, and sat at my desk. I grabbed three ibuprofen from the bottle in my desk drawer and washed them down with cold coffee. First, I needed to deal with this false rumor. Then, I needed to deal with Stella. And last, I needed to shed my anger, climb off the blame wagon, and talk to Wyl. But how would I convince him to listen after I abandoned him?
Chapter Eighteen
WYL
During the two weeks since that Thursday night, I sank deeper into the quicksand of regret and had nobody to throw me a rope. I wanted to talk to Rod. To explain. To tell him about my gay side. To heal the deep wound I caused. He is my friend. My only close friend since Stewy in high school. Rod is the best thing that ever happened to me, but I fucked things up with that kiss and then watched him leave without begging him to let me explain. Now, he probably never wants to see me again. I missed two weeks of classes because I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. The way he ran away after the kiss made me fear what he would do if we met again. The whole situation shoved me into a deep depression.
I sat at the breakfast bar and was reminded of Rod and our steak night. Would I ever eat steaks with Rod again? My left elbow rested on the bar with my cheek lodged against the heel of my hand. My right hand toyed with my silverware. The clatter of frozen fish sticks and French fries being dumped on a baking sheet was the only noise in the house. Walt was fixing lunch. What he fixed didn’t matter. I had no appetite.
Walt opened the freezer to toss in the bag of fries. “Fish sticks and fries okay for lunch?”
“Whatever,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. Why did he ask?
Walt placed the baking sheet in the hot oven and closed the door. “Talk to me, brother. For two weeks, you’ve sulked around lower than a sow’s belly in a mud pit. Until you met Rod, you were never Mr. Happy, but after you started classes, your entire outlook changed. Then something happened, and now you’re draggingmedown.”
“Nothing to talk about.” I didn’t take my eyes off the knife I turned over in my fingers, mesmerized by the light reflecting off the shiny blade.
Walt jerked the knife away. “Don’t give me that shit.” He slammed the knife onto the counter. “Since I got back from Oklahoma City, you’ve been in the dumps. Did buying my new horse upset you?”
I avoided Walt’s gaze. I didn’t need anyone else upset with me, and I didn’t need sympathy. I needed Rod. “No. I’m glad you bought Princess. She’s beautiful.” I’m sure I sounded like one of those unemotional computer voices. I clasped my hands together between my knees and hunched my shoulders.
“Did something happen at school?”
