The Reunion Show 9 The Reunion Show – part 9
If you’re not 18 or older, blah, blah, blah; you shouldn’t be here.
If you don’t like these types of stories, blah, blah, blah; you shouldn’t be here.
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Who’s yo daddy!
* * * * * * * * * * * *
“You are a very brave man, Mike Logan,” he said. “Braver than I am.”
“Nah, I bet you’re pretty brave.”
He stopped walking and I turned to look at him. “I repeat, you’re braver than I am,” this time he said it a bit more exact. Then he raised an eyebrow and cocked his head a bit.
I was drunk but if I understood him right, and he was telling me what I think he was….”Well, maybe you’ll be just as brave someday?” looking up at him.
He looked up and beyond me for a second. Finally he said, “Someday. Maybe someday.”
“Works for me,” I said as we turned to walk back to our cars. I grabbed his ass and said, “God Damn that’s a great ass.”
He laughed and knocked my hand away. “You’re such a nut!”
“Don’t you forget it.” God, I was so friggin’ happy.
* * * * * * * * * *
I received the first cd a few days after we had gone to Rhett’s. I woke up that Wednesday morning and my muscles were a little sore. Scott decided Monday morning that I needed to get up in the morning with him so we could work out together.
“Fine,” I said groggily. “But just remember that Mr. Congeniality doesn’t show up until closer to 10 o’clock.” Evidently he’d forgotten how much I hate mornings.
“I’ll try and keep that in mind, pal,” he'd said.
Normally I just ran and watched what I ate. As far as alcohol intake, the first two nights I was here was not the norm for me. When I go out with friends I’ll usually have one, maybe two, drinks. I hate beer: as my grandma used to say “they can put it back into the horse for all I care.” Amen, Grandma. But I love people who say it’s an acquired taste, and that it took them months to get used to the taste. Well baby, I want to feel good right now dammit, not in a few months.
Anyhow, the Monday and Tuesday after my "revelation" at the bar Scott and I would get up and head upstairs for a workout. He didn’t need the workout because he looked really good anyway, but I sure needed some toning up. I also knew that it’d be even more one-on-one time with The Handsome One. Totally fine with me.
Back to the cd. I got up Wednesday morning, nary the cheerful person, and sat up to wake my brain. I’m not really smart so it takes a while. I saw on my nightstand a cd that wasn’t there the night before. I looked at it for a second before I picked it up to check it out. It wasn’t a cd that you’d buy in the store. Nope. On the jewel case was a sticky note that said: “Remember – music always has something to say. Enjoy.”
Well wasn’t that nice of Freddie, I thought. He didn’t have to do that. Actually, I’m not sure when he would have because all of us were always together—except when Scott and I’d go upstairs to the mini-gym. I flipped it over and started reading the song titles on the back. I smiled as I read them. It was all 80’s stuff. Talk about high school memories!
There was “Addicted To Love,” “All I Need Is A Miracle,” “Can’t Stop (How I Feel),” “Crazy For You.” I looked up as I started thinking about the songs. Odd; there seemed to be a common thread here. Let’s see, what else is there….”Don’t You Forget About Me,” “Dreamin’.” Oh my God! I hadn’t heard Cliff Richards’ song “Dreamin’” since I was in the sixth grade. I always loved that song and looked forward to hearing it on the radio. What else, “Father Figure,” Hmmm. “Feels So Right.”
Oh God. Freddie no! All these songs were….love songs…sort of. Gulp. Freddie?
“Whole Hearted,” “I Want To Know What Love is.” Oh Freddie. You sweet thang. If I were only interested. And making this cd for me fit the entire, wholesome, farm boy deal he had goin’. But I wasn’t interested. It kinda made me sad. I sighed and looked over all the rest of the songs.
“If You Were Here.” The song from the movie “Sixteen Candles” where she gets the guy at the end. I loved the songs, but… “It’s Raining Men.” I had to laugh out loud at that. Perfect song for a gay guy.
“What are you laughing at, Logan?” I looked up to see Scott walk into the bedroom.
“Oh, it looks like sleepy head over there” pointing to Freddie “made me a cd.”
“Huh? Freddie?” He looked puzzled.
“Yeah, check out the songs,” I said, showing him the titles. He handed it back to me quickly, barely looking at it.
“It looks like quite a bit of effort was made,” he said.
“I know. Poor guy,” I told him.
“Why’s that?”
“Cause I ain’t interested,” I said quietly.
He looked over at Freddie’s sleeping form. “Hmmm.” Then he turned and walked out of the room.
There were a couple of more songs. “Our Lips Are Sealed,” and to end it all “Something About You” by Level 42. “Oh, I hope I’m wrong about this,” I muttered to myself.
I put the cd back on the nightstand, put on some shorts and a tank top, and then headed upstairs to join Scott. He was waiting for me when I walked in. “You ready?” he asked.
“Oh, I’m always ready,” I said with a wink.
He asked me “Where’s the cd.”
“It’s downstairs.”
“Aren't you going to listen to it?”
“Well, yeah. I’ll do it later,” I said.
“It looks like some time and effort was put into that,” he repeated.
“Ok? I agree.” Where was this coming from?
We started, or I should say that I started, our workout routine. I say “I started” because Scott was still teaching me how to use some of the machines properly and he didn’t really get to use them himself for a while. He wasn’t talking a whole lot this morning which was odd because the boy never really met a stranger, that I could tell.
“So, everything all right?” I asked.
“Yeah. Why.”
“’Yeah, why’” I mocked in my which-way-did-he-go voice. He didn’t say anything; didn’t even look at me. “Okay, so something’s up.”
“No, I just said it’s cool.”
“What’s cool.”
“Dammit Mike, I’m fine.” I could tell he was getting a little irritated.
“Dude, sorry I asked. Geeze.”
We continued our workout in silence for a while before Scott spoke again.
“You know Mike, you don’t have to make everything alright.”
“Huh?”
“You heard me,” he said.
“Well no shit, I heard you, but that doesn’t mean I know what you’re talking about.”
“If I’m having a shitty day, maybe I just want to let it work itself out. You don’t have to try and make it better.”
“I didn’t realize I was 'trying' anything,” I told him.
“Yeah you do. You’re always cracking jokes, trying to get people to laugh. Laughing at whatever you say. I’m just saying that it’s okay for people to just chill. You don’t have to be the one to make everyone laugh, to make things okay for them.”
Boy, this was a weird turn of events. “Well let’s just workout because obviously I can’t make things okay for you, pal,” I muttered.
“You got that right.”
I turned to him. “God damn, son! And what the fuck’s got into you? I hadn’t even said a shittin’ thing to you. It’s like I’m in the goddamned twilight zone!”
He just stood there and shook his head. “You don’t get it, do you.”
Between myself and the readers it had been years since I’d taken crap from anyone, and I wasn’t about to regress. With my hands on my hips I said, “Obviously not! Scott, you’re not making any friggin’ sense.”
“All I said was that you should really listen to the goddamned cd.” He was getting loud now.
“And all I said was that I would. If you haven’t noticed I don’t have my walkman—you were gonna show me how to work this shit” I said gesturing to the equipment “so I didn’t think the time was right to have my headphones on. What’ja want me to do, say ‘Sorry Scott, what was that? I was listening to my music instead of paying attention’!” What a turd he was being!
“Quit changing the subject!”
“What subject!”
“I was talking about you always trying to make things better for everyone!” he yelled.
“Are you just—you know, I’m not going to do this. Someone shat on your head, you’re feelin’ full of piss and vinegar and you’re taking it out on me.” I said this calmer so I wouldn’t wring his neck, then I turned to leave the room. But then I turned right back around.
“You know? Screw this! I laugh because I like to laugh. I don’t know why, I just do. If I try to help someone out who seems to be having a bad day, how else am I gonna do it! All you had to do, which you did, was to say 'back off', which I did. You’re the one who brought up all the psycho-babble crap. Not me.” I turned back around to leave. This really sucked and I was really pissed, simply because I had no idea where any of this was coming from, or where it was going.
As I walked off he said quietly, “You were a pussy in school and you’re being a pussy now.” I stopped and turned to look at him, stunned. He realized what he’d said before I even looked at him. “Oh shit Mike,” and he wiped his hands down his face. “I didn’t mean that.” I just stared at him. “I…I have no idea where that came from.”
“Don’t bullshit me,” I said.
“No, I really don’t. You’ve been nothing but nice to me. Hell, you’ve even forgiven me for how I treated you when we were kids.”
“That’s because we were kids then. We’re supposed to be adults, now,” I said firmly. “You can get as angry as you want at me, I can take it. But the one thing I won’t take is being called any kind of name.” I was trying to be really cool. In actuality I hadn’t had a confrontation with hardly anyone since high school and was really nervous inside. “You can tell me I’m acting like something, but don’t call me names. I like you, Scott, but I ain’t puttin’ up with that shit from anyone. Got it?”
His shoulders dropped as he breathed out. “Mike,” he said taking a step towards me and rubbing his chin, “I really am sorry. I had a bad night and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have.”
I shook my head. “Dude, it’s ok. I know sometimes I can be a bit much to take.”
“No, it’s just…” He started looking up at the ceiling.
“What?” I asked.
“The cameras.” He sighed and looked back at me. I glanced up.
“Yeah?”
“Well, you remember our talk at the park?” About the abuse.
“Mm hmm.” I answered, calming down a bit.
“Sometimes I wake up in the night after dreaming about it.” He looked so sad. Y’all know I just wanted to hold him and take care of him. But this was one of those times that a man needs to get out what he’s thinking without coddling. You know what I mean? He grinned in a nervous way, “It’s like, no matter how old I get…I just wish I could forget.”
I shut my eyes for a moment and said nothing.
“How can people be so-“
“Unh-unh,” I interrupted, pointing at the cameras. He smiled real big and I thought I could see tears.
“When I think of the way I was in school…”
Hw was silent for a moment. “Scott, did our talk the other day stir up stuff?”
“Oh God no,” he said, “that didn’t at all. It was the invitation.”
I was clueless. “What invitation?”
“Our parents were invited to come to the studio,” he said.
“Do what?” This was news to me.
“Yep, four sets of parents this week, and four the next. Didn’t you hear?”
“Uh, duh, no,” I snorted. I got serious again and asked “Is he coming?” referring to Frank.
“Probably. He’d never miss an opportunity to fuck something up. Especially if it involves me.”
I stood there watching him. “You know, I’m really tempted to say something smart-ass right now.”
That got a half grin. “Really.” He replied.
“Sorry,” I said. “You know, I know why I do it.”
“Why you do what,” he asked.
“Why I try to be so humorous. I used to say that it was because I wanted others to forget their pain. Ugg. What a drama queen,” I said rolling my eyes. He laughed at that. “I guess the real reason…Never mind.” I almost slipped and let someone in.
“What?”
“Nothing. Here you are about to see that animal and I’m going on about my nonsense.”
“Well,” he said smiling, “can you at lest tell me what the smart-ass thing was?”
I grinned and in my country voice said, “I was just gonna say why don’t we hire a buncha wranglers to just go and beat the shit outta him!”
He laughed at this. “Logan, please never stop being funny.” I smiled.
“I’m a funny guy,” I said making a goofy face. “Wanna finish our workout?”
He smiled at me. “Yeah. Then it’s hot tub city.”
“Oh yeah? You wanna get into the hot tub with a known ho-mo-sex-shul?” This time I used my redneck voice.
He laughed again. “As long as yer the ho-mo-sex-shul!”
“Hey, that’s a pretty good redneck,” I said.
“Oh, I’ve had years of practice.”
“Yeah, you are a bit red, ain’t ya.”
We finished our workout and got into the tub to relax a bit. “Sit on my lap?” I joked.
“Maybe later.” When he flashes that grin....hoofa!
The water felt great and after a few minutes Scott spoke up. “So that was our first fight, huh.”
I busted out laughing. “You’re such a tool!” I kidded.
He smiled and said (oh, wait—y’all will want to know where we’re sitting. At a comfortable “I’m not gay” distance – at least for Scott) “So what were you going to say earlier about making people laugh?”
“Oh, that. I don’t know,” shaking my head.
“Come on, Logan. I showed you mine now you show me yours.” There goes that killer smile.
“Bastard.” I turned to one of the nearest cameras and said to it, “He really didn’t show me anything at the park.” Well he died laughing at that. “If he had, we’d’a still been there!” He laughed even harder at that.
“Logan, I asked you a question.”
“I don’t know…the reason I’m always a smart-ass is because…well, how do I explain this.” I leaned down and put my face into the hot, bubbling water. I looked back up and Scott was just watching me. “In school there were so many people that I hung out with, but only at school. It seemed every weekend my friends would have plans, but they never included me. I didn’t quite get it. We always had fun in school as a group but I couldn’t tag along?” This always made me, well, sad. “It wasn’t like I thought that they thought I wasn’t good enough, but the fact that they didn’t even think to ask—it hurt a bit.”
“Did you ever say anything?” he asked.
“No. I woulda felt stupid, and whiney.” He nodded at this a bit. “I guess that over the years my goofiness became a sort of defense mechanism.” I put my face in the water again and blew more bubbles. I looked up at Scott. “This is easy,” I smiled sadly, “but at the same time, it ain’t.”
“How’s that?”
I blew air out of my nose and looked over his head into the city beyond. “Because I do what I do to keep people off of their toes.” He looked puzzled. “Well, if I make a joke to or about someone or something then I don’t have to be serious about what I say, and they can either take it or leave it, never knowing if I’m being a jerk or not.”
“So they don’t get to know the real you,” he said.
“You got it!” I smiled. But it wasn’t a happy smile.
“And what’s so bad about the real you?” he asked.
“Well, something must be wrong. I’m alone,” I said to him.
“Yeah, but that’s by choice. You keep people out. Who wants to try to get close to someone who isn’t letting anyone in. That’s not fair.”
I put my face in the water again.
“Dude,” I said to him, “after years of nobody trying, don’t you think I can take a hint?”
“Hey Logan, no pity parties, k?”
“I’m not. It’s just…I got used to keeping people at arms length, but I’m not mean about it. I use humor, and it’s just a habbit, I guess.”
“But you’re lonely. You said it.” I gazed down at the water.
Smiling I said, “I’m lonely but I’m fun!”
“Goober. Maybe if you’d take the time for someone, they just might take the time for you. And if they don’t, well then at least you tried. You can’t make anyone feel anything that they don’t, but you can at least try to be close to them.”
“Yeah. But I can make ‘em laugh.”
“I want more than laughter, though,” he said.
I looked up at him. “Excuse me?”
His eyes darted back and forth. “I mean, talking friend to friend…um…I want to laugh, sure, but I want to be serious too. Do you think I want to spend the rest of my life alone?”
“Where did that come from. You’re confusing me again, Scotty.”
“What I’m saying is that…I’m changing. I’m not the same guy as a year, or even two, ago. I want more in life. I keep telling myself to keep reaching, keep learning. Strive more, Scott, I say. I used to want to be alone. Let’s face it, I didn’t have great relationship role models, if you know what I mean.” I shook my head as he continued. “I just want…normal. That’s all. And I think that’s what you want too, at least I think that’s what you’re saying. And I’ll tell you what, there are some things that are hard to say when you haven’t said or done them before. But I’m trying. You’re a great guy who says what he thinks; there’s no reason not to have someone in your life. Sometimes we need a little nudge to change. Is what I’m saying making any sense?”
“For the most part, yeah,” I said.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to sound like a prick, but did you ever think that maybe the problem wasn’t the other people? Maybe you should have asked them, seen if there was any reciprocation.”
I thought about this for a bit. “True,” I nodded.
He sighed. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling.”
“Hey man, friends ramble. That’s how we get to know each other.” I leaned closer to him and said with a smile, “Just don’t call your friends a pussy.” He splashed water in my face to shut me up.
“So when are the ‘rents coming for a visit?” I asked.
“Tomorrow night,” he said. You could tell he was dreading it.
“You gonna stick around?” I asked him.
He looked me dead in the eye and said, “I’ll never, ever run away from Frank.” Whoa! Case closed!
We sat in silence for a minute when I realized that “You know, I have no idea what you do for a living!”
He laughed. “That’s ‘cause you never asked me.”
“Geeze, no shit! You're right. So what do you do?” I asked.
“I’m a g.c.”
“What’s that?”
“A general contractor. I’m the guy you look up in the phone book if you need stuff done around the house; tilework, new windows, if you want to add a room or just add onto your house, that kind of thing.”
“Hey man,” I said “that’s awesome. You ever work on any really old houses? I always thought it’d be cool to restore and live in an old Victorian. Been to Inman Park yet?”
“Yeah, man, that’s where I live,” he said.
“Oh, you’re kidding! I’ve always loved that neighborhood. How cool is that,” I said. A little history about Inman Park (so’s ya knows). It’s billed as Atlanta’s first “Garden Suburb” and was developed in the 1880’s, if I recall correctly. A trolley line would take you east out of Atlanta to what was then an area considered way out in the country, along Edgewood Avenue. It’s a really big neighborhood with blocks and blocks of Victorians, big and small, all different. As most cities during the 50’s and 60’s it faced some serious decline and many of the fine homes became dilapidated.
I think it was in the 80’s that the Jimmy Carter Library was proposed near the northern edge of the neighborhood at the same time that a lot of those horrible people with money (I’m saying this tongue in cheek) had the audacity to spend time, effort and money to start restoring many of the old homes. A highway was designed to bring patrons to the Library, and guess where it was planned! Yep, right through Inman Park. Literally, blocks and blocks of houses were destroyed for the road. Yeah, because so many people would be killing themselves to get to this library, right? This destruction got people rallying and believe it or not the road was re-routed.
Over the years, those same people have done a fantastic job fixing up the area. Every year they have a festival of homes and about fifteen to twenty houses each year are opened up for public tour. It’s really cool because you can see the different ways that people renovate; some do a full restoration while others completely gut the interiors and modernize.
“What kind of house are you in? Is it a bungalow?” I asked him.
“Oh, God no. It’s a pretty big house.”
“Oh yeah? How long have you lived there?”
“Well it was my grandparents’ house. They lived there for forty-five years, I think, and they left it to me when they passed away,” he said.
“Wow, forty-five years,” I repeated. “How come they didn’t leave it to your mom?”
“Because they were my real dad’s parents. I think they felt sorry that he pretty much vanished once my parents divorced. They remained active in my life and I was able to spend a lot of time growing up with them,” he told me.
“Well that’s cool.”
“Yep.”
“You know there’s one house I’ve always loved. I don’t know what street it’s on, but the street’s parallel to Edgewood…it’s a big ol’ barn of a house with a porch upstairs and a round tower on the corner of the house. The roof over the tower looks kinda like a bell. I think it’s being restored now so you’ve probably seen it.”
“Hmm, it sounds familiar. Maybe you can show me sometime,” he said.
“Do I get to ride in your truck?” I asked.
He chuckled at that. “Well yeah, I don’t see why not.”
“Can I ride ‘bitch’?”
He laughed at that. “What’s riding ‘bitch’?”
“You know, you see these good ol’ boys riding around in their trucks with their girlfriends sitting right in the middle instead of in their actual seat. It’s called riding ‘bitch.’” I said.
Laughing a bit more at that he said, “Dude, where do you come up with this shit?”
What me??? “Well,” I said standing up, “I have a cd to listen to. I’m gonna hit the shower. I like my eggs scrambled and my toast with jam.”
“Me too. Let’s see if we can find someone to make it.” We both laughed at that.
I held out my hand for him to shake and we did the three-pat-on-the-back “I’m not gay” man-hug and told him to let me know if he had more nightmares. He held on a bit longer than I expected, our wet chests pressed against each other. Hey, I was just giving him a supportive hug, I didn’t plan this! But then he let go and said “Thanks, buddy,” and we headed back down stairs.
My head was spinning. I needed a cold shower, dammit!
* * * *
After my shower, which felt great, I grabbed my walkman and the cd and went upstairs (again) to sit on the patio. It was still early and looked like it was going to be a gorgeous day. I tell you what—Freddie had put a great cd together. I’d have to thank him when I saw him again. The songs all brought me back to the great times I had in school…
I must’ve fallen asleep because I woke up with a start, still sitting in the chair on the patio. The cd had already finished and as I shook the cobwebs from my head I heard someone open the door to the patio. It was Deanna.
“Hey there gal,” I said. “How’s it goin’” I yawned.
“Sleepy?” she asked.
“Oh man, I must’ve fallen asleep. Hey check this out,” I said showing her the cd.
“What is it?”
“Freddie made it for me.”
“Freddie?”
“Yeah. It’s great but look at the songs.”
She read through the titles. “Am I supposed to see something?”
“’I Want To Know What Love Is, If You Were Here, Something About You.’ It’s like he’s trying to tell me something,” I said.
“Who, Freddie?” she said, surprised. “Huh.”
“Well you’ve seen the titles, who else would I think it’d be? He’s the one who knows about all of that electronic shit,” I told her.
She sat there looking at me and shook her head. “Mikey, you know sometimes you’re as dense as lead.”
“What?”
“Why did God make so many man blind,” she muttered. “Here,” she said, and she handed me another cd case.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“Duh.”
“I mean where’d you get it?”
“Read it, ding-bat.” What a bossy chick!
It read: “Logan, Some things I don’t want the cameras to catch. You’re braver than I am. Enjoy my second cd. (smiley face) Remember—music always has something to say. S” I was stunned! I looked up at Deanna who had a sheepish grin on her face.
“You mean?” I stammered.
“Mike, you really need to sharpen up a bit,” she laughed. I couldn’t believe what she was telling me. I about broke the second cd trying to get it into the player. I hit start and heard some seductive breathing and electronic drums.
Looking up at Deanna I said, “Oh my God! I know this song!”
“What is it?” she asked. I just listened to the song.
“It was raining when I met you,
You were soaking wet, no time to be impressed.
And I remember so much later on,
I knew that you were someone I would not forget.
Everybody’s searchin’, hungry for the glamour,
You know too many hearts are in a rush,
No matter how you try to
You can’t explain the places you find love.
I can’t explain. But I can feel it, all around me.
The need to find the place where feelings can be safe.
It’s not money that buys happiness,
No it’s not the shine of silver that puts the heart to rest.
Everybody’s pushin’, the clock is always runnin’
And no one ever seems to have enough.
And when you least expect it,
You come upon the places you find love.
Love, remember!
In a flash the feeling can hit you
After all the times that it’s missed you
Reachin’ deep inside, to find your secret heart, yeah, yeah!
Look around you notice you’re flyin',
And for once you’re not even tryin'
City lights below you, like a million tiny stars.
Oh it’s a river never stopping, winding in and out
You should never doubt it will lead you
Into the ocean someday
There’s no way to fight it, let it carry you away.
Everybody’s dreamin’, waitin’ for the feelin’
That moment when they finally rise above.
But it’s always in the giving that gets you to
The places you find love.
Remember!
In the poorest part of town,
Where the sun never reaches the ground
Seein’s not believe, the feelin’ stays alive, yeah, yeah!
Little children laughin’ and playin’,
‘Cause they haven’t learned to start hatin’
Never givin’ up! No. 'Cause they still believe in love sweet love”
It was Babs and I had the cd. It’s a great cd called “Till I Loved You.” I tried to tell Deanna about it but she stopped me.
“Shut up and let me hear it,” she said. I handed it over and I watched her moving to the beat. “Wow,” she said when it finished. “You think he’s trying to say something?” she had a big smile on her face.
I couldn’t believe it. What a fantastic fucking way to pass a note! “Oh God, I hope so.”
“See,” she said laughing, “I told you y’all were gonna get'cha some!”
I laughed at her. “You’re nuts gal! C’mere.” I grabbed here in a bear hug.
“Ugg. Can’t breath!” she gasped.
“I can’t either,” I said.
“Shut up. You’re acting like a chick,” she said.
I laughed again. “Well, I gotta go see if ‘music has a lot to say.’” Deanna laughed at my corny joke while I took my walkman and the other cd and headed downstairs.
Scott was standing at the island cleaning up after his breakfast. Everyone else was sort of hanging out around the island too which was going to make it impossible to say anything to him. Maybe.
As I walked up he looked up at me, then to the walkman and disk. I stood near him and acted like I was looking for something in the cabinets. “So they’re from you?” The others were involved in their own conversations and weren’t really paying attention to us.
“Yep,” he said, still cleaning.
I stood at the counter and put a pan on the cooktop. I was breathing kinda heavy. “The first one brought back some great memories,” I said, flipping on the gas. “Only one thing about the second one, though.”
He froze. “What’s that?”
“The lyrics say ‘no time to be impressed’?” I said.
“Uh huh?”
I stood next to him, shoulder to shoulder and said, “It was instant for me.” I smiled watching the others and I could tell he looked at me out of the corner of his eye.
“What was instant?” Samantha said. She must’ve heard me.
“Oh, I just hate instant coffee,” I said, trying to cover myself.
“Ugg, I know. Maybe we can head over to Starbucks?” she asked.
“Sounds good. Lemme eat first.” She returned to her conversation. Everyone was oblivious to us.
“Really?” he muttered. “Instant.”
“You have no idea,” I said mixing up a few eggs.
“Wow,” he said softly. He walked behind me and was heading towards the bedroom when he leaned over and whispered, “Privacy?”
“What, you want some?” I said grinning.
He laughed. “No. Cameras,” he said looking up and around.
“Got it. Not a problem.” Hey, I could wait, what, seven more weeks, right? I could, couldn’t I? Oye vey! I hoped so. He walked towards the bedroom. Dammit, what a fine ass!
“Want some sausage, Scotty?” I asked, taking it out of the refrigerator. He turned and smiled at me.
“Maybe later,” he said.
“Um…kielbasa?” He burst out laughing at this.
“You’re a piece of work, Logan,” he said.
“You wanna piece of what?” This time we were being loud and goofy for the others’ entertainment.
But I could hardly breathe. It looked like he and I wanted the same thing: each other.
Seven weeks of waiting? Oh God, can I do it? I asked myself. Can I wait that long? It’d be a long, hard wait. Ay-yi-yi!
* * * * * * * * *
“The Places You Find Love”
By Clif Magness and Glen Ballard
Performed by Barbra Streisand on the cd “Till I Loved You”
copyright 1988 CBS Records
Columbia CK 40880
* * * * * * * * *
Okie dokie guys,
You like, you like?
Lemme know.
Mark
mlogan6969@hotmail.com