The Vest #2
“Great party,” Liko said, then nodded at Pao. “Senor. Eat anyone yet?”
“Not yet,” Pao said, looking at Dane.
Dane moved a little closer to Liko. “Pao’s a farrier. All the horse farms around here use him.”
Pao gave his hat brim a little flick, managing to be both arrogant and modest.
“His Instagram has like half a million followers.”
“Twenty-five thousand.”
“Whatever.”
Pao smiled. “People like watching me bent over, working between my legs.”
“Oh my God,” said a woman passing by. “You’re the farrier guy? I love your reels. Hey Liz. Liz. Come here. It’s that farrier guy.”
The women started chatting up Pao, which let Liko eat his snacks, people watch in general, and study Dane in particular.
He was, Liko had to admit, one of the most interesting-looking people he’d ever encountered.
It wasn’t just the two different eyes, although they were hard not to fixate on.
The mismatched gaze was unsettling, as if the brown eye noticed your appearance and the blue one examined your soul.
Dane’s hair had a dozen colors in it: blond and copper and sable and gray and a couple streaks of pure white.
His body seemed unable to decide on one thing, so it chose everything.
Likewise nothing about Dane’s appearance tonight matched up with Liko’s impressions from two months ago.
That Dane had been just a guy. Your basic dude in sweats and sneakers and ball cap.
Tonight Dane wore a black leather vest over jeans and a white linen shirt. He had a gold hoop in one ear and a silver hoop in the other. As he talked, Liko caught the flash of a tongue stud.
Pretentious, Liko scoffed, except Dane was anything but. He didn’t pose or preen, didn’t offer any explanation about his look. These clothes were the ones he’d thrown on, and he wore them for his own enjoyment.
Pao and his two fawning devotees left the kitchen. Liko assumed it was for a quick threesome and chuckled as he assembled his last cheese and cracker. “Dallying with the farrier. How very D.H. Lawrence.”
“Better them than me,” Dane said. “Jesus, I can barely put two words together when he’s around.”
“Any history?”
“Hell, no. Gorgeous to look at but his ego barely fits under the hat.”
“Reputation precedes him and he knows it.”
“He probably fucks like he’s shoeing a horse.”
“He’ll bend you right over the anvil and start hammering away.”
Laughing, Dane drained the last of his beer and set the bottle in the sink.
He pushed off the counter and turned to open the fridge.
His vest was laced up the back, neat tight criss-crossings pulling the leather snug to his torso, ending in a tied bow at his nape.
The cords hung down and Liko thought about pulling one.
He sighed.
“Wow, that was gale force,” Dane said. “What’s on your mind?”
I dig your look, Liko thought. “Nothing,” he said aloud.
Dane raised skeptical eyebrows, then looked around for the bottle opener. “You’re so full of shit.”
“I was just checking out your vest.”
Dane’s smile jumped sideways, full of pleasure. “You like?”
“The back was a surprise.”
“The lacings? They keep me in place.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have a little trouble defining the edges of my life. I always feel ever so slightly…not here.”
“I see.”
“I have to work really hard on grounding myself. Mentally and physically. And one of those ways is with clothing that binds me a little.” Dane smoothed a hand down his vest. “I like how it feels when I draw the laces up. Not so tight that I can’t breathe or it’s uncomfortable. Just enough to let me feel my edges.”
“Do you wear something like that all the time?”
“When I’m in a new or unsettling situation. And almost always at a party. This sounds corny but I feel braver in it. It’s a little like armor. I have such an empathetic nature, I suck up everyone’s emotions. The vest reminds me to keep healthy boundaries.”
Liko started to speak. Stopped. Started again. And stopped.
“Go ahead,” Dane said.
“Can I try it on?”
“Holy shit, yes.” The pleased smile Dane had given before paled in comparison to the grin he flashed now.
He set his beer bottle down so enthusiastically it foamed up.
Liko mopped the puddle while Dane unbuttoned the vest, took it off, and loosened the back laces.
He held it out and Liko shrugged it onto his shoulders.
It was heavy, but buttery soft, and still warm from Dane’s body.
“Button it first,” Dane said. “Right. Now this is tailored for me so even when I pull the laces, it’s not going to fit perfect. But you’ll get the idea.”
Liko felt the cords draw up his spine and the leather garment contracted gently, pressing his sides and lower back.
“How’s that feel?”
“Like being hugged.”
“Right? It’s way too short on you but you get the idea. Turn around, let me see.”
Liko turned in a slow circle, running a palm down the front panel, then up to where the first button came under his sternum. If he’d been shirtless, his nipples would be hanging over the edge.
“You look good,” Dane said. “But more importantly, how’s it feel?”
“I feel like…”
“What?”
“Like I wish it came up higher. What you said before about armor…” Liko rubbed a slow circle over his heart. “I want this covered. Know what I mean?”
“For sure. Of course.”
“But I see what you mean about how it helps you feel your edges.”
“Wow,” Fred said, coming over to get in the fridge. “Liko, that’s a sweet look on you.”
“Isn’t it?” Dane said.
“You wear it for fashion or binding?”
“Little of both.”
Fred nodded seriously. “I have a friend who cured severe agoraphobia by corseting.” They walked off, Bupkis following.
Dane’s hand closed warm and strong around Liko’s forearm. “I don’t mean this to sound dirty, but take my clothes off.”
“You totally meant it dirty,” Liko said, unbuttoning the vest. He missed its warm hug as soon as it slid from his shoulders.
“You can get your own.”
“Not sure if I like leather that much.”
“You can get it made in suede,” Dane said. “Buckskin. Broadcloth. Flannel. Come on, get in the game here.”
“The whole reason I came is getting in the game.”
Dane reached behind his neck and pulled the laces, drawing the vest tight to his body.
“By the way, my social tank is going to dump its fuel in another hour or so. My parties always have a hard stop and most everyone will move across the street to the Pub. A few will stay. You make yourself at home, all right? You want to pub crawl, you want to sit on the porch, you want to hit the sack, you want to take a bite of Pao…”
Liko laughed. “You’d have to file a missing person report in the morning.”
Liko enjoyed himself thoroughly the next hour, especially when a good portion of guests made their way to the Pub and it was down to a more intimate handful in the kitchen.
Liko. Dane. Fred. Bupkis leaning on Liko’s leg.
Three women—Anna, Jackie and Meg. Meg had a great smile and smelled delicious.
She was not quite leaning on Liko’s other leg, but close.
They were all playing one of those conversational card games, drawing from a plexiglass cube.
“Do you have an irrational fear of anything?” Anna read from her card. Then gave a little shudder. “Slamming my fingers in the car door.”
“Garage door,” Fred said. “My fear of garage doors can only be described in psychological terms. What about you, Dane?”
“Doctors,” Dane said.
“I’d literally rather throw up than go to the dentist,” Meg said.
“Jackie?”
“Snakes in the toilet.”
“Oh my God, same,” Anna cried.
“Not enough people take this seriously,” Jackie said. “They are in there and they will bite you in the coochie.”
“Well thank you, I am never sitting down to pee again,” Fred said.
Meg took a card. “Give a piece of non-philosophical advice.”
“Non-philosophical?”
“I guess practical,” Meg said. “Like…always keep extra toothbrushes in the house.”
“Don’t propose in public,” Jackie said.
“Righty-tighty, lefty-loosy,” Fred said.
“Stash extra meds in the car,” Liko said
“Don’t fry bacon in the nude,” Dane said.
Liko took a card. “Share a weird fact or quirk about yourself.”
“I can’t sleep on the left side of any bed,” Anna said. “No matter where I am, where I go, any bed. I have to be on the right side. Always.”
“I’m afraid of snakes in the toilet,” Jackie said.
Dane made a buzzer sound. “No repeats.”
She thought. “I can’t not watch any video of a haka.”
“I’m addicted to videos of ingrown toenail repair,” Fred said.
“Ew.”
“Hear me out. It’s the perfect story. The beginning hooks you with a dire situation. The middle is suspenseful. You can’t look away. And the ending is always happy.”
“I have to support this,” Liko said. “I watch Dr. Pimple Popper for the same reason.”
“My idea of a great date,” Meg said, “is getting high and watching Dr. Pimple Popper.”
“You free tomorrow?” Liko asked.
She winked and called, “Dane? Your quirk?”
“My eyes are different colors.”
The group gave a collective gasp. “No.”
“Shut up.”
“Really?”
“I was wondering if you’d ever notice,” Dane said.
“What causes that?” Anna asked.
“It’s probably genetic, right?” Fred said.
“Usually inherited,” Meg said. “But sometimes it’s from mosaicism. Or even chimerism.”
Liko looked at her, impressed. She smiled and said, “I’m a vet. You see it a lot in animals. Actually—”
“Oh, ackshyually,” Jackie said. “Here comes the vetsplain.”
“Interestingly,” Meg said patiently, “you see heterochromia most often with Huskies. And the Australian Shepherd. All hail the queen.” She motioned toward Salma.
“Quick,” Fred said to Liko, “ask me my sexual orientation.”
“What’s your sexual orientation?”
“Heterochromic.”
“Fabulous.”
“What about cats, Dr. Dolittle?”
“Most commonly in white cats.” Meg delicately adjusted the frames of her glasses and went for uber-pretentious. “You see, either the epistatic white gene or the white spotting gene prevents melanin granules from reaching one eye during fetal development.”
“You make it sound so dirty,” Liko said. Meg bumped his hip once, settled against his side a minute, then moved away.
It was Dane’s turn, and he drew a purple wild card: You and the person on your right may ask each other anything.
Liko stood on Dane’s right. They exchanged glances.
“Who sent me the letter?” Liko asked.
“I honestly have no idea.”
“What letter?” Meg said.
“Inside joke,” Dane said. Then asked Liko, “How long did it take for you to stop wearing your wedding ring?”
“Wow.” Liko looked at his left hand, turned it palm up, then closed it into a fist. “Wow, I don’t remember. I mean, I remember taking it off but I don’t recall when it was. How long after she moved out…” His eyebrows furrowed hard and he was quiet a beat. “Weird how memories blur.”
They looked at each other, the stare only broken when someone cleared a throat. Then both men snapped out of it and looked around the table.
“Well, that got personal,” Liko said heartily. He chugged the rest of his drink and slammed the can down. “Who do I gotta fuck to get another beer? And I mean it to sound dirty.”