35. Cole
Thirty Five
Cole
Sal is busy cleaning every nook and cranny at my order. I’m not usually a neat freak, but tonight I want every cobweb dusted, as if we had a house cleaner.
He’s also got some excellent bachata music playing, and it takes me back to the first night we shared together here.
I shake my head at the memories. I need to focus. Now isn’t the time to think of Sal swaying with me to the music.
A nervous energy has overtaken my body. I’m sure Sal can tell, he’s been tiptoeing around me all day and obediently doing anything and everything I ask.
Dipping the fish filets in batter, I fry them on the stove. Once they’re frying, I take the opportunity to cut up the cabbage, onion and carrot.
In another pan I begin to saute those with a pinch of pepper and salt.
Once the fish is all fried and battered, the essential ingredient being beer, I place them in a dish to stay warm.
The tortillas are warmed then kept in a container especially designed for them and everything is placed on my high top table.
A knock at the door sends panic shooting through my body.
Last, I cut up cilantro, lime slices and mix my special dipping sauce and put them on the table as well.
Washing my hands, I join Sal at the door and resist the urge to screw with my styled hair. Sal helped me style it to the side and to my surprise, he told me to keep my current outfit on. He said this isn’t a fundraiser, yet.
Standing at the door is the actual ‘it’ couple of Bayfront. Thank god, they’re dressed semi-summer casual as well.
“Hey guys!” Jesus I hope I sound as casual as I wish I was. “I’m Cole and this is Sal.”
“It’s nice to meet you in person,” Oliver says. “This is Ace.”
The shorter guy, Oliver, looks so similar to me, it’s uncanny. Is that why Ace is looking at us so strangely?
I lean in and give them both hugs.
Oliver tries to hug Sal but he offers his hand to them both.
“Come on in,” I say.
We bring them in and they remove their shoes.
Oh my god there are millionaires with stocking feet in my apartment.
Regret pools in my chest as I realize we should have done this at Sal’s place.
Oliver and Ace follow us to the living room and we all take a seat.
Ace wraps his arm around Oliver’s shoulder as Sal offers them each a glass of wine. They accept and sip from their drinks.
Sal sits in my big chair and I sit on the floor between his legs. I’m not sure if it’s proper etiquette, but they seem super informal.
“Did you grow up in Bayfront, Oliver?” I find myself asking.
“I did. I love it here. I looked at other schools out of state, but I couldn’t find anything that was as appealing as here.”
I nod. “It’s got a lot to offer.”
We both smile.
Ace and Sal are silent but it’s fine. I didn’t expect much from Sal. However, it’s entertaining how similar Ace seems to be.
“So, what exactly do you do for work?”
“I help people locate what they’re looking for in the area. That can range from planning a vacation, to finding the best veterinarian service, to now planning the biggest party of the year.”
I’m sure he has loads of other questions, but I’m not ready to dive into that just yet.
“Ace, are you here for the whole summer?”
It was revealed last summer that he’s a hero, secretly going to war torn countries to volunteer at hospitals.
Sal’s legs tense under me but I figure he’s just antsy.
Now that I’m in my element I’m only eager to move this to the dinner table.
Ace sits up a bit. “It was hard not to go this summer, but I have worked out some ways with my father so the work will continue. I’ve actually trained two dozen paid employees to do more than I ever could.”
I don’t miss the note of regret in his words. I get the sense he’d prefer it was him.
Oliver squeezes Ace’s thigh and there’s the sweetest silent exchange between them. The dirty blonde’s frown lifts a little.
“Let’s get to dinner before it gets cold.”
We all get up and at the table, Sal tops off our glasses off and I explain the dish. It’s a simple fish taco dinner.
I’ve made it before and while i’m worried it’s too basic, the two happily dig in and even make satisfied noises.
Ace wipes his face with one of the fancy napkins I picked up.
“Cole, this is excellent!”
I could faint. I might die right here on the spot and be totally cool with it.
“Thank you.”
I sip my wine and glance at Sal who hasn’t touched the food. Rather, he’s glaring at Ace. Snapping out of it, he catches me looking at him confused and tries the food.
Sal finally says something, and says, “Great job, babe.”
“Thanks!”
“So how did you two meet?”
I wait to see if Sal answers, he does not.
“At work, actually. We’ve worked together for a long time. It wasn’t until recently that we started chatting at a work party and we hit it off.”
It’s not a lie, right? I mean, I’m not gonna say my boss started jerking me off in the work bathroom, cause that’s… hot but crazy.
“That’s so cute!” Oliver sips his wine a little too quickly. I only say that because he giggles when he puts his glass down. “That’s actually how we started off too. Well, Ace was my boss.”
I nod. “Sal is my boss too.”
“Sal, what’s your last name?”
Every effort to appear, his normal annoyance, dissipates. “Amato.”
Ace doesn’t seem satisfied by the answer.
“My last name used to be Hammond.”
That answer seems to click something in place for him. “Like, the son of Samuel Hammond?”
The room shifts and I don’t think it’s from too much wine.
“You two know each other?” Oliver asks, looking back and forth from the two.
Sal leans back and folds his arms across his chest.
Now I want to hear Sal answer the question because what the hell?!
“So, you remember me?”
Ace nods. “Yeah, but it’s been a long time.”
Muscled arms flexed. “A very long time.”
Why is he so defensive?
Ace sips his drink and shifts awkwardly in his chair.
Oliver and I exchange what I can only describe as stressed and confused glances. So much for a fun dinner.
“When did you move back?”
The way his brows pull together, you’d think they were exchanging insults.
“I never left.”
Ace frowns now. “People said you moved to Italy to be with your mother.”
Anger visibly drains from Sal. “Is that what my father told people?”
Ace shrugs. “It’s what I heard, not that rumors are ever true…”
I recall the fake engagement about them that just got cleared up.
“I did not go stay with my dead mother in Italy…”
Everyone’s eyes go wide.
“It’s too bad he decided to spew that story instead of the truth, that my mom died and he cut me off for being gay.”
The silence is actually painful and I consider chugging my wine.
There’s no way Oliver will accept my offer now.
What happens next throws me off.
Ace holds his wine glass in the air toward Sal. “To shitty dads.”
Okay, Sal is gonna flip.
Right?
But he doesn’t. Instead, he clinks his glass against Ace’s and they chug their drinks.
Oliver and I both look at one another again with relieved smiles and also drink our wine.
The tension shifts in the room and we all begin chatting about random goings on in the elite community and their busy schedules.
Oliver is going to school to be a history professor and hoping to start a nonprofit to help teens who are disfellowshipped. He would like to help adults too, but figures it’ll be laying the groundwork and helping younger ones first.
Ace is continuing his efforts to help his father and his father is helping him. There’s clearly some resentment, but he says it’s worth it because he’s doing good.
Sal mentions that after his dad cut him off, he bounced around trying to find a career that he enjoyed and ended up at our company, and has enjoyed it.
“So, are you a chef on the side?” Oliver asks me.
I laugh, a pained laugh. Suddenly I’m aware and annoyed that my wine glass is empty.
“No… I tried to work in a restaurant a few times.”
I sense Sal leaning in closer.
“What stopped you?” Oliver prodded gently.
Why am I telling these strangers my biggest regrets?
Yet, my soul is begging to be purged. Maybe there’s something trustworthy about them I can’t pin.
“It was too demanding.” Are there fucking tears welling in my eyes? “I couldn’t handle being yelled at. Having a boss is fine. But I couldn’t handle the pressure.”
I wipe at the tears stinging my eyes, the shame burning, threatening to consume my whole body.
“You know, some restaurants are cut throat,” Ace says.
I swear I almost snap at him.
Thank God I bite my tongue because he continues, “But there are many different opportunities for chefs out there. Especially here in our city.”
I nod. What else do I say?
“Alright, Oliver.” Sal speaks up and all eyes land on him. I’m grateful. “Would you like to speak at the gala? We think it would be the perfect opportunity to mention your cause regarding raising awareness to high control religions. Plus it would be extremely inspiring.”
Oliver smiles thoughtfully and bites his bottom lip. “No.”
No?!
Ace appears equally as thrown as the rest of us. I’m ready to collapse on the floor and call it a night.
“But only because I want to have someone else speak…”
“Who?” I croak.
I snap my mouth shut as my face goes beat red.
He sits back into the chair and plays with the collar of his white collared shirt. Suddenly I’m captivated by the shirt with little pink flamingos on it.
“In the religion, men run the show. So many women are put down and rarely get the spotlight. There are plenty of women who had to choose their identity and lose their friends and family, just as I did.”
Wow. My disappointment is replaced with awe.
“I was wondering if my sister could as well?” Ace blurts, looking to Oliver for permission.
Oliver looks to me.
I nod, eagerly.
“My sister is amazing and she took the brunt of our fathers anger since she came out first.”
This catches Sal’s attention. He’s watching Ace intently.
“When Oliver and I were thrown into the spotlight, all my sister did to make our father more accepting was overshadowed.”
Oliver nods.
“I’d love to have them. Imagine how comforting that will be for women who leave the religion and see others like them sharing their experiences,” I say.
Everyone perks up and we clear the table.
“I appreciate you coming over,” I say to them at the door.
“For sure! If you’re up for it, we’d love to have you both over,” Oliver says with a genuine smile.
“That would be awesome!” I say back to him.
Ace and Sal shake hands.
“Feel free to text me,” Ace says to him.
I can’t read Sal’s expression, a cross between amused and… is it contentment?
“Sure will.”
“I’ll text you Ace’s number,” Oliver says.
We say one last goodbye then close the door.
Immediately my shoulders relax and I slump against the hallway wall.
Sal starts rubbing my shoulders and my legs wobble.
“You did good.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Let’s get you to bed.”
“I gotta clean,” I grumble.
“The chef does not clean the kitchen.”
That makes me smile.
Walking me to my room, Sal slips my shorts down and gently pushes me to sit on the bed. After he pulls off my shirt, he helps slip my nightshirt on and even brings me my toothbrush.
I brush quickly, hand it back and he eases me into bed. The whole thing is a bit silly, yet when he kisses my lips and turns off the light, tears stream down my cheeks as I listen to him cleaning the dishes and the kitchen up.
Struggling to keep my eyes open, I wipe at the tears on my cheek, I finally let them close and drift off.