10. Malcolm
Malcolm
“ M alcolm?” the blond Adonis before me asks.
“Yeah,” I sigh, running a hand through my hair anxiously.
“Sorry about that. I set it up with the company to give a fake name for you, while they maintained privacy with whom I really am.” It’s a copout, I know.
But I couldn’t risk anyone finding out I rented a date.
Much less a guy. I want to win back Jefferson, and I can only do that if I get comfortable with who I am. This seemed like the easiest way.
I’ve got a plan. Step one: get comfortable with Bradley—if that’s even his real name. Step two: go on a real date, out in public, in a town where no one knows me. Then, once I stop feeling like I’m going to shit myself from nerves, I’ll come out to my kids and family.
Once I do all that, I’ll fight for Jefferson. He’s going to be mine. My husband until the day we die. And then, in the hereafter.
“Why the cloak and dagger?” Bradley moves over to the counter and leans against it, crossing his legs as he takes a swallow of his Heineken. “Are you a double agent for the CIA? In the mafia?” Then he raises his eyebrow. “Married?”
I can’t help it; the boisterous laugh erupts from me as if it were lava and I was Mount Vesuvius.
I’m cracking up so hard tears start to stream down my face, yet Bradley’s expression doesn’t falter.
He continues to look at me, brow raised, nose scrunched as if he’s trying to figure out if I’m insane or he hit the nail on the head.
Finally, I hold up my hand as the other goes to my stomach, clenching my beer so as not to spill a drop. “Sorry, that was just funny, and I really needed a laugh today. The answer is none of the above. The truth is far less dull and a great deal more heartbreaking. Well, for me anyway.”
“Hit me with it then. We have dinner, a long night ahead. At least three hours,” he winks, “and I love a good story.”
Is this guy for real? He actually wants to hear more about me? The only people who’ve ever done that are Paige and Jefferson. Do I want to tell him about the shitshow that’s my life?
I let out a sigh, knowing the answer. Everything I’m doing.
Every move is all for Jefferson. To show him that he’s the man of my life and I’ll do anything for him.
That he’s not a dirty secret in the closet, because I don’t want them anymore.
All they do is gnaw away at you until there’s nothing left but bones.
Tonight is the first step. It’s me breaking the ice.
“Help me carry the food to the table and we can chat while we eat. I was just about to pull the bread out of the oven when you arrived.”
“My favorite,” he all but purrs as he pushes off the counter and picks up the salad sitting on the counter beside me.
My eyes linger on his ass as he goes, and I have to take a deep breath to calm myself. I’ve never felt drawn to a man before other than Jefferson, but Bradley has my cock twitching.
I give him a moment, or rather myself a moment, before slipping on an oven mitt and pulling the pan of bread from the oven.
Piece by piece, I quickly place them in a basket, filling it before carrying it and the casserole dish of lasagna to the dining room.
Skillfully holding both dishes in my hands so I don’t drop them, I make my way to the dining room.
It’s almost as if it’s muscle memory from doing the same for Jefferson so many times.
As I step into the dining room, I see Bradley frozen in place, staring at the setup. I might have gone a little overboard. There are candles burning in the middle, the table already set with wine glasses waiting to be filled. There are two heated pads waiting for the lasagna and bread.
I take a moment to really take him in. He’s young.
I knew that already, having seen his age when I booked him.
It’s not that there weren't older men who were available, but I saw this as a chance to kill two birds with one stone. One, I can work to get over my issues with coming out, and two, I could talk to him about how he’d handle it if his father was gay.
How he came out and what his family’s reaction was to his sexuality.
Not gonna lie, the way he wrote about himself hooked me almost as much as that face.
“Hope it’s not too cliché looking,” I say as I step up behind him. A little closer than I normally would with a typical dinner guest. My assumptions are confirmed by the way his body shivers.
“Nope, it’s perfect,” he says, the small hitch in his voice evident, as he sets the bowl of salad in the center of the table.
I smile awkwardly, feeling the heat rising in me, no doubt turning my neck and face a bright shade of red when his eyes lock with mine. What is going on? No one but Jefferson should be doing this for me.
“Umm, I’m going to get my beer,” he spits out before rushing out of the room.
He needs a moment and so do I. Setting the plates on the table, I look around anxiously before deciding to check on him. He’s been gone a couple of minutes and while I know I rented him for a date, I want to make sure he’s not feeling awkward.
Needing to get my own beer and the wine I head into the kitchen. Standing at the counter, his hands placed firmly on it, head bowed, is Bradley. Instantly, the need to know he’s alright courses through me. “Are you okay, Bradley?”
“Yeah, I’m good. Sorry, I just felt a little lightheaded.” He looks over at me before standing upright. He picks up his beer and turns to face me. “Anything else we need to take out before you tell me your whole sordid story?” He laughs, but it isn’t a heartfelt one.
Somehow, I don’t believe he’s telling the truth. But I’ll play along. For now.
“No, we’re good. I was just getting my beer and some wine in case you want some. I’ll meet you at the table.”
Bradley leaves and I quickly get the items and head back out. It’s time to get the night started.
He’s placing salad on his plate and I have to do a double take as there’s salad on my plate as well.
“I didn’t put any dressing on it. I wasn’t sure how much, if any, you liked, so it’s plain.” I drop down into my seat, my jaw slightly open at what he’s done. It’s truly unexpected.
“Thank you.” I don’t know why, but I wink at him. “For the record, just a little Italian or oil and vinegar if it’s available.”
“Noted. Now I’m dying to know why are we meeting at your house?”
I can beat around the bush to give him the answer, or I can just be straight and to the point. Time is ticking, and I need to work through my insecurities so I can get the love of my life back.
“Simply put, I’m not out. No one but my ex-wife and the love of my life know I'm gay.”
His eyes go wide, and he nearly chokes on the bite of salad he just placed in his mouth. Tiny pieces of lettuce and carrot spew from his mouth as he coughs, frantically trying to recover.
I slide back my chair, ready to perform the Heimlich maneuver, but he manages to recover.
“Shut the fucking back door. You have an ex-wife and a lover? What the hell am I doing here?” He begins to nervously look around as if some six foot eight bodybuilder with a gun in hand is going to burst through the doors at any moment.
“What are you doing?” I question him.
“Looking for the cameras. Obviously.” He throws his hand up in the air, waving them around. “Because if I'm not on a newly revamped episode of Punk'd, then I'm afraid someone’s going to come barging through the door calling me a homewrecker.”
“My lover or my ex?”
He blinks. “Neither. Both? This is some Lorena Bobbitt shit. I’m fully expecting to have my cock cut off and thrown from a window when one of them takes me being here the wrong way.”
“Nothing like that's going to happen.” I pull my lower lip into my mouth as I pick up my fork, gripping it tightly as I lean back in my chair.
“Then what is it? I'm confused.” His shoulders stay tense as he asks, almost as if he feels there's a danger still lurking around the corner.
“My family, let's just say they are very conventional in their views. In their eyes, it's one way. A man is made for a woman. To be her provider, her nurturer, and to procreate.”
“You gotta be kidding me?” He laughs.
“I wish I were. Early on, I knew I was attracted to men, yet I never acted on it in fear of what my parents would think. I tried to talk to my father once about it. He got so angry. Not because I was attracted to men—he didn’t know that—but because he was afraid of me being brainwashed by someone.
Another time I was at dinner with them, and there was a lesbian couple seated at the table across from us.
My father requested to be moved, and when the restaurant declined, he made us leave, boycotting the establishment.
He bad mouthed it to everyone, until it finally went out of business.
” I pick up my beer and take a sip, calming my rising emotions remembering the past.
“But you like women too?” he asks as he spears a piece of his salad before lifting the fork to his mouth.
“Yes, and no.” I inhale, taking a moment to look at him, noticing his full attention is on me. Either he's really good at his job and making his clients feel important or he is invested in what I have to say.
“Malcolm, it's not that hard of a question.”
I furrow my brow as I focus my attention on the flickering flame of the candle.
“I was attracted to Paige when I first met her. She was beautiful, sweet, and genuinely kind. She accepted me for who I was. But it was always more of a friendly love. A best friend. I tried to make it work. For her, my family, and when the kids came along, them.”
Bradley reaches out and takes my hand in his, giving it a comforting squeeze.
“She knew all along before I ever told her. Our divorce was amicable and I'm happy for her. Paige finally has the love she deserves.”
“So the big question is why are you not with your lover? That’s what I'm not understanding. Wouldn't you want your man here instead of me?”
“Of course. But I'm still in the closet and he was tired of waiting for me to come out. He wanted a real relationship. One where we go to family events, go on actual dates and vacations. And I want all of that too. It’s just so fucking hard. All I can think about is my kids hating me. Cutting me from their lives. All the life events I’ll miss.
If they’ll even let me see my grandchildren.
It’s not just an easy choice for me to scream to the world that I’m gay. ”
He looks at me as if he's sizing me up as he tries to make sense of my story.
“Just so I'm clear, no one in your life other than Paige and your ex knows you’re gay.”
“Well, you know now. But to answer your question, no.” I move the lettuce on my plate around with my fork.
“Fuck, that's some shit. Why am I here?”
That's the million dollar question. Hopefully he can fulfill what I need.
“Let’s eat before it gets cold and then I'll tell you everything.”