Chapter 4 Fairy Godmother
He spotted William in the dining area. Who could miss him? He sat at a booth, ankles crossed, primly sipping a soda. He held his glass in one hand, while pressing the straw to his lips with the forefinger and thumb of his other hand.
Matt’s chest swelled with anticipation. He had waited a week for this moment.
He bypassed the order line, beelined between tables, and slid into the seat opposite William.
William appraised him with an arched eyebrow. “Looks like you came straight from practice, dahling.”
“Yeah, no time to shower,” Matt grinned.
He leaned back in the seat, resting one arm along the back of the booth, trying to appear nonchalant when he felt the opposite.
His hair was damp. He wore a sweaty jockstrap underneath his jeans. Moisture trickled down his balls and pooled near his ass-crack. He was certain that if he stood up, he would see a little puddle in the booth’s vinyl seat. The things he would endure to finally get laid.
But was he going to get laid? Or was this just another test related to that secret gay fraternity?
“Poor thing,” William said. “You must be hungry. I got you some food.”
He gestured to a plastic tray with three burgers, a bag of fries, and a soda. “Go ahead and eat. I hope you don’t mind, but I had them hold the onions. I can’t abide the taste of onions on a guy’s lips.”
“Thanks!” Matt tried, but failed, to suppress what he knew was a goofy, puppy dog smile—not because William had bought him dinner (well maybe partially for that reason), but mainly because he felt desired—by a guy. This guy. William.
A thought niggled in the recesses of Matt’s awareness, reminding him of that other time he had felt so desired. How he had been used and humiliated. He would be cautious this time.
He grabbed a burger and took a bite. He remembered something he wanted to ask, so he swallowed quickly.
“Why meet here? Why Johnnie’s?”
William picked up a fork, used it to probe the fries, searching for a perfect specimen. He speared one and took a dainty bite.
“It’s not exactly like we could meet on campus or anywhere in Bliss. Those people are such vicious gossips, and good girls like me must guard our reputations.”
Matt laughed.
Not for the first time did he wonder how William not only survived—but thrived—at MCU. He also wondered, again, not for the first time, what it was exactly about this pale, skinny, effeminate kid with a big head that entranced him.
“You have a nice laugh,” William said.
“Thanks.” Matt relaxed. He ate more of his burger.
“I hear mixed things about you on campus,” William said. “Bit of an exhibitionist in the bathroom, standing naked while waiting for the shower. And, what’s the deal with that Dallas Cheerleaders poster?”
Matt had started to take another bite. Instead, he put the burger down. “Are you spying on me?”
“Never, dahling.” William batted his doe eyes innocently. “If anyone is being spied upon, that would be me. You really aren’t very subtle during chapel, you know.”
Matt crossed his arms, almost hugging himself. Anger seeped into his veins, much as the sweat had soaked into his jeans. He wasn’t going to be gas-lighted into thinking that William was the victim here. There were things he wouldn’t do to finally get laid.
William speared another fry. “I told you we had to check you out before inviting you to join our little fraternity. You can pout or you can answer my questions. Pouting won’t impress our members. Now, about that exhibitionism?”
Matt stifled a smirk, took a drink of soda to hide it. Exhibitionism? That was ironic coming from a guy who only needed a scarf around his head and over-sized sunglasses to complete his Hollywood-starlet look.
“I’m not trying to get anyone’s attention,” Matt said. “Just the opposite. In my world, wearing a towel or bathrobe to a communal shower room is the odd behavior. Being naked is normal.”
William sighed longingly.
“It’s such a pity that my own soccer career was cut short before I could enjoy such pleasures.”
“Injury?” Matt asked.
“Something like that. I think they caught me pulling a muscle.”
Matt laughed. “Play your cards right, and I might sneak you into the locker room some evening for some, um, exercise.”
“What an interesting proposition for someone with a Dallas Cheerleaders poster hanging in his room,” William said. “Tell me, are you just trying to deflect suspicion? Or are you confused about which team you’re on? ‘Cuz our fraternity doesn’t cater to confused guys.”
“I’m gay,” Matt said, “which you somehow figured out at the student mixer. The poster’s just a stupid—what’s the word? Talisman?—to protect me from homophobes. Apparently, though, I need a better lock on my door to protect me from your spooks.”
William rolled his eyes. “Simmer down, Suzette. No one broke into your room. Resident Advisors have master keys to all the rooms. They regularly snoop for porn and alcohol. Never keep a journal, by the way. And before you ask: your Resident Advisor is not in our fraternity. He just has a big mouth.”
Matt sighed, slightly mollified. The anger leeched out of him.
William pointed to Matt’s unfinished food, told him to keep eating, that he would need his strength soon enough.
Matt hoped so. He wanted to get out of that jock, get down to fucking. He wolfed a bite. “Next question.”
“You haven’t even touched your fries!” William said. “You want to know why I really come here? The fries. Best in the state.”
“Next question.” Matt stuffed some fries in his mouth, had to admit they were good.
“Okay. You haven’t made any friends. Even your teammates think you’re aloof, like you’re waiting for a better option to materialize. Is that what we are to you? Plan B?”
Matt shrugged. “MCU wasn’t my first choice. I can’t imagine that it was for anyone in your fraternity. Was it yours?”
William broke eye contact. Stared into the distance. Blinked several times before answering. “No, but I’ve accepted my fate. I’m making the best of my situation.”
“I am, too,” Matt said. “Making the best of my situation, that is. I’m trying to get into your secret fraternity and also into your pants. Neither one is ‘Plan B.’”
William laughed.
“My turn,” Matt said. “What’s with all the ‘dahlings’ dahling?”
William leaned forward, turned suddenly serious.
“You honestly don’t know?” he asked.
Matt shook his head.
“Tallulah Bankhead? Star of Lifeboat? Original gay icon?”
“Never heard of her,” Matt said.
“I’m sorry to hear that. I was about to tell you that I’d recommend you for membership in our little fraternity, but that may have been premature.”
“How many guys are in this fraternity anyway?” Matt asked. “Do you do anything besides imitating movie stars?”
“There are eight of us. I can’t tell you much more until you become a member—if you become a member.”
Matt was surprised. “Only eight? There should be twenty gay guys on campus! Your eight plus me equals nine. Where are the other eleven?”
“Not every gay boy on campus gets invited to join,” William said. “Some who do make it to the interview stage, get rejected by our members. I will tell you that you’re not the only freshman we’re vetting.”
Matt wondered who those other freshmen could be. And, while he was disappointed there were so few members in the fraternity, eight was better than nothing. Had he found his tribe? Still, he had questions.
“What does this fraternity do anyway?” he asked.
“Part social club, part broken hearts support group, and part protection plan. That last one—protecting each other—is the most important. I guess I should go ahead and tell you we call ourselves the ‘Gay Mafia, GM,’ for short.”
Matt laughed, thinking this was another joke. “So that makes you the Godfather, right?”
“Godmother, dear,” William tutted. “Godmother.”
Matt smiled. Seeing the uneaten food, he remembered how hungry he was. He picked the burger back up and polished it off. He weighed reaching for another.
“Anyway, dahling,” William said. “I’ll recommend you for membership. Assuming there are no objections, there will be an interview with the whole GM on the 19th. Check your mailbox for a note with details on where to come. Now, sexy man, any more questions for me?”
Matt felt that goofy smile spreading across his face again. William had described him as sexy! He was back on track to finally get laid AND he had found his tribe! His cock stirred, trying to breach the swamp, trying but failing.
He didn’t take the Mafia thing seriously.
He had watched all three Godfather movies and read Mario Puzo’s novel.
Mafia guys were uber-hetero, hardened criminals saturated in violence—not gay college kids vamping around like starlets, handing each other Kleenex’s after failed romances.
His main take-away from the Godfather movies was that the young Michael Corleone was hot, the older one not so much.
And he remembered that other gangsters showed Michael respect by kissing his ring.
Matt tried a joke of his own, a risqué one. “So, Godmother, how soon until I get to kiss your ring?”
William’s dark eyes twinkled. “Good one! Witty. Double entendre. Perfect!”
William paused, then pretended to look at an imaginary watch. “Wherever has the time gone? If we’re going to continue your education, we need to get going. You do want to continue your education, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Matt smiled. He had a ring to kiss—a pink one.
Twenty minutes later Matt parked his Jeep on the same rutted farm drive they’d used for last week’s hookup. He loved that word—hookup—now that he was in the club (the hookup club, which didn’t really exist, as opposed to the GM, which did exist, but which did not count him a member—yet.)
William supervised preparations, telling Matt to fold down the back seat.
The resulting rear storage area was about four feet on each side, three feet tall. Matt wondered about the mechanics of fucking in that cramped space.
And kissing. He rummaged for mints in his glove box, found some, and popped two in his mouth.