he was?”
“Gay?”
“Gay, bi, biologically available.”
“He’s my friend. I don’t care what he is.”
“Sure.”
The bell jingled. Two high school girls came in and browsed
the Indie section, giggling over Cavalcade
of Boys , the homo version of Archie .
One of them said to the other, “I told you.” They left without buying anything.
“So who was that Jeremy guy last night?” I said. “Quid pro
quo.”
“OK. He’s on my brother’s basketball team.”
“He’s in high school??”
“Relax,” he said, scrunching his eyebrows. “He’s a senior.”
It hit me that I was judging the appropriateness of the
hook-up based on my own age. Zane was only twenty.
“Oh, yeah, I guess that’s not a big deal,” I said. “Couple
years.” I felt old. Zane seemed young.
“I came across his profile on XY . He didn’t have a very descriptive pic, but there was a
basketball jersey like my brother’s hanging on the chair behind him. Number nine.
So I went to one of Ralph’s games and was like, Yo .”
“Did his number match his inches?”
“Not even close,” he said with a frown.
I laughed. “Well is he cool?”
“I guess—for a jock. I don’t know. He was skittish.
Too eager. Bad kisser. Told me just before he went down on me that I was
quote-unquote beautiful . —Funny
how it’s always beautiful , isn’t it?
Never cute or hot .”
“For newbies beautiful is the only word intense enough to express their feelings,” I said. “They need
patience. You know how hard it can be to deal with.”
“Well, judging by the look on his face when you arrived last
night, I don’t expect to get another shot.”
“Too bad,” I said. “He was cute.” I put my hands up over my
head, shaped my lips into a surprised O .
“ You won’t tell anyone, will you? ”
“So are we laughing about this now?”
“I don’t know.”
He looked at the clock. “OK, Vince,” he said, “I’m gonna go.”
He left the counter and pulled off his Golden Age t-shirt.
His white undershirt rode up and revealed his stomach and a trail of dark hair
that disappeared beneath a red Gap waistband. I looked then looked away. He
went into the back room, came out wearing his coat and the blue hat.
“Have a good weekend,” he said.
“You too. Thanks for the company.”
“Sure.”
The bell jingled. Through the window I watched him go down
the front walk, and when he was out of sight I felt like crying.
At 8:20 I noticed Griff standing outside the store,
bent over with his eyes aligned with the hours on the glass door—the
double zeros of 8:00 looked like
white spectacles.
“Can’t you see the sign?” I mouthed from the other side. “We’re
closed.”
He cupped his hand around his ear. I tapped the numbers on
the alarm pad and went outside. Once again there was that urge to kiss him,
this time a hi-honey-how-was-your-day kiss.
“Good day?” he said.
“Kind of slow.” I put the keys in my pocket. “Wow, it’s
chilly out, huh?”
“Slow boring or slow relaxing?”
“Zane stayed a while after his shift and kept me company.”
“Dreamy.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I shushed. “I think he just wanted to inquire
about you, actually—make sure we’re not fucking or anything.” I felt
dizzy from saying that about Griff and me, even if it was meant to sound
ridiculous.
“Ha, he was jealous,” Griff said. “I knew he liked you. So why haven’t you asked him out or
whatever?”
“Why haven’t I asked him out? How about I’m his boss? How
about he’s like five years younger than me?”
“How about he’s into you and even I can tell he’s cute?
Here’s your keys.”
“Thanks.” They were warm from his pocket. “I don’t know. I’m
not that into him. So what did you end up doing all day?”
“...” He arched an eyebrow. I wasn’t sure he was going to
let me off the hook about Zane. But he relented. “Had myself a little shopping
trip,” he said at last. We got into the car. It
“Gay?”
“Gay, bi, biologically available.”
“He’s my friend. I don’t care what he is.”
“Sure.”
The bell jingled. Two high school girls came in and browsed
the Indie section, giggling over Cavalcade
of Boys , the homo version of Archie .
One of them said to the other, “I told you.” They left without buying anything.
“So who was that Jeremy guy last night?” I said. “Quid pro
quo.”
“OK. He’s on my brother’s basketball team.”
“He’s in high school??”
“Relax,” he said, scrunching his eyebrows. “He’s a senior.”
It hit me that I was judging the appropriateness of the
hook-up based on my own age. Zane was only twenty.
“Oh, yeah, I guess that’s not a big deal,” I said. “Couple
years.” I felt old. Zane seemed young.
“I came across his profile on XY . He didn’t have a very descriptive pic, but there was a
basketball jersey like my brother’s hanging on the chair behind him. Number nine.
So I went to one of Ralph’s games and was like, Yo .”
“Did his number match his inches?”
“Not even close,” he said with a frown.
I laughed. “Well is he cool?”
“I guess—for a jock. I don’t know. He was skittish.
Too eager. Bad kisser. Told me just before he went down on me that I was
quote-unquote beautiful . —Funny
how it’s always beautiful , isn’t it?
Never cute or hot .”
“For newbies beautiful is the only word intense enough to express their feelings,” I said. “They need
patience. You know how hard it can be to deal with.”
“Well, judging by the look on his face when you arrived last
night, I don’t expect to get another shot.”
“Too bad,” I said. “He was cute.” I put my hands up over my
head, shaped my lips into a surprised O .
“ You won’t tell anyone, will you? ”
“So are we laughing about this now?”
“I don’t know.”
He looked at the clock. “OK, Vince,” he said, “I’m gonna go.”
He left the counter and pulled off his Golden Age t-shirt.
His white undershirt rode up and revealed his stomach and a trail of dark hair
that disappeared beneath a red Gap waistband. I looked then looked away. He
went into the back room, came out wearing his coat and the blue hat.
“Have a good weekend,” he said.
“You too. Thanks for the company.”
“Sure.”
The bell jingled. Through the window I watched him go down
the front walk, and when he was out of sight I felt like crying.
At 8:20 I noticed Griff standing outside the store,
bent over with his eyes aligned with the hours on the glass door—the
double zeros of 8:00 looked like
white spectacles.
“Can’t you see the sign?” I mouthed from the other side. “We’re
closed.”
He cupped his hand around his ear. I tapped the numbers on
the alarm pad and went outside. Once again there was that urge to kiss him,
this time a hi-honey-how-was-your-day kiss.
“Good day?” he said.
“Kind of slow.” I put the keys in my pocket. “Wow, it’s
chilly out, huh?”
“Slow boring or slow relaxing?”
“Zane stayed a while after his shift and kept me company.”
“Dreamy.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I shushed. “I think he just wanted to inquire
about you, actually—make sure we’re not fucking or anything.” I felt
dizzy from saying that about Griff and me, even if it was meant to sound
ridiculous.
“Ha, he was jealous,” Griff said. “I knew he liked you. So why haven’t you asked him out or
whatever?”
“Why haven’t I asked him out? How about I’m his boss? How
about he’s like five years younger than me?”
“How about he’s into you and even I can tell he’s cute?
Here’s your keys.”
“Thanks.” They were warm from his pocket. “I don’t know. I’m
not that into him. So what did you end up doing all day?”
“...” He arched an eyebrow. I wasn’t sure he was going to
let me off the hook about Zane. But he relented. “Had myself a little shopping
trip,” he said at last. We got into the car. It
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