Chapter Eleven
Renny
“Fool me twice, shame on me and my dumb ass,” I said.
Rightfully, I was skeptical about Brent and his so-called breaks from Macy.
“You and that mouth, Renny,” Brent said. “I never lied to you about the breaks Macy and I took, including that first time you and I…”
“If you say so.”
“This time, I know it’s for real,” Brent said, squeezing my hand. “Macy and me. We’re done.”
In my mind, I thought, this was the melodrama that made for a romance novel plot. I’d need to jot down this bar booth scene after this meeting was over.
“I’m glad your journey is where you want it to be,” I said. “I don’t know what it’s like to come out in your forties, seeing that I’ve been out since college, but I can imagine it’s a lot to process. I’m happy for you.”
“I could use some friends. Like some gay friends,” Brent said. “And definitely someone like you, Renny, who knew me when. You’ll always be special to me. You were my guy.”
My phone buzzed. I let go of his hand to see who was texting me. Ugh. Antoine. The sight of Antoine’s name popping up on my phone screen was enough to buzzkill my reunion with Brent.
“Fuck,” I said out loud, with the intention of only thinking it. “I didn’t mean that.”
“All good,” he said with a shrug. “I mean, unless you are with someone. I wouldn’t want to complicate your life.”
“No, I don’t have anyone at the moment,” I said. “Give me a sec.”
Hey. How are you?
Usually an indication he wanted something—a favor, money, a dinner request.
Good. The award ceremony was impressive. Glad I accepted the invitation .
No acknowledgment.
In a couple days. I’m going to do some book events in Kansas City and Oklahoma City while I’m out this way for Pride month .
No acknowledgment, again, from Antoine. Do you mind if my friend comes over while you’re gone?
Ugh. My yes or no answers never stopped Antoine from keeping company in my condo before, why would he ask now? I knew I needed to get the situation resolved and get Antoine out of my place.
Fine. I let out an audible sigh.
Thanks. I know you’ll be glad when this Renny Ross shit is over and you can get back to Detroit. I miss your cooking. Lol.
Truth is, I liked my so-called Renny Ross shit.
Being Renny Ross was the best part of my life.
I felt happiest doing book signings and events, meeting readers and author colleagues, and most of all, writing my books.
Even happier than with my university teaching life.
Antoine had had no clue how many book fests, trips, television appearances, and other opportunities I’d turned down during our so-called relationship just so he wouldn’t feel like my life overshadowed his. Lesson learned.
No more falling for charming convention center service workers masquerading as readers. I deserved someone who would love me for all I did and would be unconditionally supportive. Someone who would encourage my work. Someone who didn’t harbor jealousy or resentment because of my success.
My mood turned. Quickly. I wanted and needed validation. Not just from an unknown and undetermined partner. I wanted it then and there. From Brent. Who knew me before I was Renny Ross.
“You okay, Renny?” Brent said, snapping me out of my train of thought. “I just told you you were my guy, and now you look upset. Sorry if I did that.”
I looked across the table at Brent.
“I’m just thinking, Brent,” I said. “I have a question for you. Would you like to sit in the chair? For old times’ sake?”
A grin formed on Brent’s face. “I was kinda hoping you would ask. But I wasn’t going to press the issue if it didn’t come up.”
I knew I’d probably hate myself the next morning, but after a more than twenty-year hiatus, I was going to get validated by Brent that night.