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NICK
After finishing my shift at Dede’s, I head back to the apartment. But when I walk by Julius’ on Tenth, someone taps on the window. It’s another Colorado native, a guy named Lionel who’s in rehearsals for his first Off-Broadway play. He waves me inside, so I retrace my steps and go inside the crowded bar.
“You looked so glum,” he says after a long hug. “I had to say hello and see what’s wrong.” He pauses, offering another cheery grin. “So? What’s wrong?”
Instead of answering the question, I ask about his boyfriend. Lionel and Harrison both arrived in Manhattan on the same day. They met at JFK while waiting for a taxi into the city. One shared cab ride led to a drink the next night which led to a romance that’s so sweet it makes most people either gloriously happy for the two men or deliriously jealous.
“Harrison’s fine,” says Lionel. “But you’re not, Nicky. What’s up?”
“Nothing.”
He clucks his tongue. “You are the world’s worst liar. It’s like that thing when someone always loses at poker. Where they have like a facial tic or particular eye movement that gives them away.”
I blink and roll my eyes above an exaggerated lopsided grin. “I’m one big facial tic, as you can see. But everything’s fine.”
He puts down his beer, circles my neck loosely with both hands and pantomimes the act of strangulation.
“You are one of the most frustrating people that I know,” he says derisively. “I’m going to ask one more time, okay? And when I finish the question, I expect an honest answer.”
I lean against the bar, wait for him to repeat the same two-word inquiry and then plaster a goofy grin on my face.
“What’s up?” I say rhetorically. “It’s the same old song and dance. I met someone. I liked him. And he turned out to be a fraud.”
Lionel’s forehead creases with concern. “I’m sorry to hear that, buddy. Where’d you meet this schmuck?”
I glance away. “Doesn’t matter. He’s not who I thought he was.”
“No, seriously,” Lionel says, leaning closer. “Where was it?”
“A private club on the Upper East Side.”
His mouth squirms. “Ooh la la! The Dirty Secrets one?” He pauses to wait for a nod. “Wow, Nick! I’ve heard some pretty hot stories about that place. Did you spend any time in the dungeon?”
I shake my head.
“What about the fancy suites upstairs?”
I smile. “Maybe a couple of minutes.”
“Holy fuck! My friend Joseph told me about a threesome that he did there with these two daddy bears. They’re married and everything, but want a cub to move into their place at Saranac Lake.”
“How nice for your friend Joseph,” I say with a meager laugh. “I hope he’s very happy up in the country.”
Lionel smirks. “Oh, Joseph’s not moving anywhere. He loves the city too much. But he did enjoy being sandwiched between the two burly balls of fur all night.”
“That’s cool. It’s actually a pretty great place; very chic and spacious with a killer art collection and some very hunky bartenders.”
“No doubt.” Lionel arched one brow. “And some very hot daddies, I imagine.”
“Possibly.”
He glowers for a moment. “You’re not fooling me, mister. I can tell from that goofy grin that you had a memorable evening. When was this?”
“Last Friday,” I report. “It was the grand opening party, although they did a few trial nights before that to iron out the wrinkles.”
“Standard operating procedure,” Lionel says. “I’ve worked in enough bars and restaurants to know that things run much more smoothly if you do a few soft opens.”
I nudged him with one elbow. “That’s what all the boys say about you, sexy. Things run smoothly because you did a few—”
He stops me with a yelp. “That’s enough of that shit! Now, did you and the big, studly daddy have a second date yet?”
The question is intended as a joke, but hits me like a roundhouse punch. Lionel sees me flinch and turn away, so his next remark doesn’t surprise me at all.
“Well, fuck him then! He doesn’t deserve anyone as sexy and cute and smart as you, buddy.”
“That’s kind of you to say,” I murmur.
“What was it?” he asks, lowering his voice. “What did the bastard do to hurt you?”
“I don’t want to get into the details,” I answer. “Let’s just say that it reminded me of how things ended with Taylor.”
Lionel’s mouth flops open. “The fucker went after someone else that night?”
“No, nothing like that,” I say. “And it doesn’t even matter. I just met the guy. I’d rather know who he really is at the outset as opposed to investing real time and emotion into a relationship. Not to mention how presumptuous it is to even talk about such things after one night.”
Lionel wraps his arms around me for another hug. “I’m still sorry to hear that he wasn’t a good guy,” he whispers. “You deserve only the best after enduring two years with that asshole Taylor. Maybe it’s time to ditch the older guys and try someone closer to our age.”
I smile. “Habits die hard. I’ll try again sometime down the road.” I pause. “Like, maybe in another ten years or so.”
Lionel smiles. “Well, that might actually work,” he says. “Because then you’ll be closer in age to the guys you’re hunting right now.”