I DIDN’T BELIEVE RYDER’S GESTURE came without strings. I knew him too well. I’d told him my relationship with Ollie was serious, and he scoffed. He must’ve assumed Ollie was a virgin, or at least a letdown in bed when he implied I would soon get bored with the relationship and look for something more exciting. This was coming from a man who took cotton swabs and some sort of chemical to methodically and tediously remove hundreds of years’ worth of dirt and grime from antique paintings. Don’t get me wrong; I thought restoring art was a cool and rewarding job, and it took him to the most amazing museums in the world. In his mind, he was the Indiana Jones of the art world, but in reality, he was more like Mouth from The Goonies.
I realized during his visit to my office that he never really knew me. Ryder hadn’t taken the time to know my feelings on relationships, or he would’ve known I’d always wanted to find someone like Ollie with whom to grow old and share a life. I was desperate to belong to someone, and it led me to make horrible choices in men. I let myself believe hookups and clandestine relationships were all I could have—all I deserved. Even after gay marriage became legal nationwide, I wasn’t the kind of guy men wanted to bring home to mom and dad. I, and my desire to wear makeup and dress in drag, set the movement back. Blah. Blah. Blah. Then came Ollie, and I found the person God meant for me all along.
I tried to find a reasonable excuse for us to sit out the benefit, but it was wrong to ignore an event that would raise money for Ryan’s Place, and Ollie wanted to see me in a tux. Therefore, a few weeks later, I stood in the foyer looking in the mirror while adjusting my black bow tie for the tenth time in five minutes. Ollie was due to arrive any minute.
“Ohhhh,” Mamma said, waving her hands in front of her face. “You look so handsome in your tuxedo. I missed this when you refused to go to prom because of old heteropathic something or others.”
“Archaic heteronormative traditions,” I corrected. “It was true then, and it’s still true now. Don’t think we don’t have issues in the LBGTQ community. Homonormativity is also a thing,” I said. “Whenever the community is represented on a television show, it’s usually a white, gay male who fits in so perfectly with his straight, white neighbors or co-workers so viewers can all say ‘see, honey, they’re just like us.’ I understand we want straight people to see us as the same because we are just like them in the ways we dream, hope, love, succeed, and fail. However, it sets the movement back when we leave everyone else out of the conversation. Where are the black transwomen and the bisexual Asian men? I could go on, but you see my point.”
“I do,” she agreed, nodding her head. “I can also tell by your impassioned speech you’re nervous.” She had me there. “Why?”
“I don’t want Ryder causing trouble for Ollie and me. I don’t trust him or his motives.”
“My love, Ryder can’t ruin your relationship with Ollie unless you guys let him. It doesn’t matter what the man says or does, only how the two of you react. Ollie loves you and believes in you, and I see you feel the exact same way about him. How could Ryder destroy that?”
“Listen to your mother,” Esther said, joining us. “Ollie looks at you the way my Morty looked at me. There were plenty of bimbos who tried to lure my man away, but he only had eyes for me. That kind of love is a beautiful gift, so don’t waste precious time worrying someone will take it away from you when you could be enjoying the bounty.”
I heard a car pull up in front of the house followed by doors shutting. “They’re here.” Why was I so damn nervous? Was I worried the reality of me in a tuxedo wouldn’t live up to his fantasy? I didn’t have time to internally debate it any longer because Millie walked through the door with the love of my life following closely behind her.
My eyes roamed hungrily over Ollie decked out in his black tux which made his olive-toned skin look darker and his eyes warmer. “Wow, Golden Boy. You look…” My words trailed off because I couldn’t think of a good enough adjective to describe the way he looked.
“Breathtaking,” Ollie said breathlessly.
“Yes, you look breathtaking,” I agreed, nodding.
“I was talking about you, Arch. I’m not letting you out of my sight tonight.”
“I was just thinking the same about you.”
“Good God,” Henry said, coming down the stairs. “Are you guys heading to a gala or a GQ photo shoot?” I snorted, and Ollie laughed.
Mamma, Millie, and Esther continued to fuss, making us pose for pictures standing next to the staircase or sitting on it.
“These are looking like wedding photos,” Henry teased.
My breath caught in my throat when I saw how badly Ollie wanted Henry’s words to come true and knew he saw the same hope in my eyes. We would get there when the time was right. I was sure of it. Right then, I was going to enjoy showing off my gorgeous boyfriend at the event then later strip him out of his tuxedo and worship his body.
We hugged the ladies and Henry then headed out. I noticed Ollie was quieter than normal on the drive over. I looked over and saw his jaw looked clenched in the light from the dashboard.
“Is something wrong, Ollie?”
“Wrong? No, there’s nothing wrong.”
“You’re not worried about Ryder, are you? Esther reminded me tonight that he can’t come between us unless we allow it.”
“To be honest, I haven’t given Ryder another thought.”
“Then what’s with the white knuckles?”
Ollie glanced down at his hands on the steering wheel then forced himself to relax. “I have something to confess, and I should’ve done it before tonight.”
“I’m listening,” I said uneasily.
“Baby, it’s nothing bad,” Ollie rushed to clarify. “My secretiveness came from a place of humility and wasn’t intended to exclude you. Will you believe me?”
“Of course.” I wouldn’t give many people my blind trust, but I would him. “Tell me your big secret.”
“I have artwork on display at the museum tonight. In fact, I’ve submitted artwork for the past five events.”
“Ollie, that’s so exciting. Do you normally sell anything?” I asked.
“I…um…do okay.”
“You sell out, don’t you? I bet they eagerly wait to see your drawings.”
“Archie,” he said in a voice that pleaded with me to steer the conversation away from his success.
Ollie had once explained pastors of small, non-denominational churches like his often had to work part-time jobs to supplement their income, where larger churches supplied a salary and provided housing for their clergymen. Ollie had inherited his home and church from Randall, who’d bought the buildings with the income he’d earned from the farm where Millie still lived. I was stunned to learn those acres and acres of corn and beans belonged to her, and the bulk of Ollie’s annual income came from farming the land.
“I donate my proceeds from the art sale to charities or put it back into my church so we can do fun events, like the annual picnic at Kings Island amusement park.”
“Have I seen any of the art you’ve submitted?” I asked, changing the subject to something he would feel more comfortable discussing. “Are they nudes?” I asked in a scandalized voice.
“No,” he said. “I drew these especially for the event because I knew they’d be popular.” He sounded guilty like maybe he thought he was a sellout.
“Why do you sound ashamed? Isn’t the purpose of tonight to showcase LGBTQ artists who have art to sell?”
“Yes.”
“Why wouldn’t you bring something people would want to buy? Are you supposed to glue bubble gum wrappers onto canvas and hope someone will like it?”
Ollie snorted. “I guess you have a point.”
“What did you draw?”
“You’ll see when we get there.”
The event at the museum looked like something out of Hollywood. Big floodlights illuminated the old, graceful building with the huge columns and grand steps leading up to the entrance. Photographers were on hand to take pictures of people on the red carpet after they entrusted their vehicles to the valets on hand. I loved posing with my Golden Boy and shamefully hoped our photo made it into the newspaper or the museum’s website. I chuckled to myself when I realized Ryder wouldn’t let it happen if he could help it.
Once inside, I was wowed again by the breathtaking grandeur of the ornate double staircase in the Great Hall. It wasn’t my first time at the museum, but it was my first high-society event there. Waiters wove throughout the crush of humanity dressed in beautiful gowns and formal tuxedos offering flutes of champagne, which Ollie and I both declined. Ollie didn’t drink, and I preferred beer.
“Let’s go explore. I want to see your art.”
“Okay, but please don’t make a big fuss.”
“Me? Excited to see something you created showcased in a such a grand setting? I can’t believe you think I’m going to make a big fuss.”
Ollie groaned but led me to the first painting in the far-left corner of the room. I couldn’t tell if there was a specific direction we were supposed to adhere to, but it looked like people casually strolled willy-nilly while taking in the art. The variety of submissions from the local artists were vast and jaw-dropping. The arrangement of artwork grabbed my attention and kept me interested in seeing what was next. Modern sculptures and paintings were sandwiched between the more traditional mediums like watercolor, oil paints, and charcoal sketches. They were so different but meshed together to form a beautifully diverse display of talent. It reminded me people could do the same when they put forth the effort.
I didn’t need to see the name placard on the easel to recognize my man’s work. “Ollie,” I said breathlessly. I stared in awe at the sketch of the Roebling Suspension Bridge, my eyes unsure where to look first because I was overwhelmed by its beauty. “This is stunning.”
“You know, many people think the bridge was built as a replica of the Brooklyn Bridge, but our bridge was actually constructed first. It opened to traffic on January first, 1867. Construction on the Brooklyn Bridge started two years later. Same civil engineer though.”
All Cincinnati natives knew that. “I see you are trying to deflect my attention away from your talent,” I teased. “Are you going to strike up a conversation about why the city used to have the nickname Porkopolis instead of the Queen City? Let me just look at this picture, Ollie. I promise not to run up to the top of the stairs and scream my boyfriend made the most beautiful piece of artwork here tonight.” Ollie groaned. I put my arm around his waist and pulled him closer so I could kiss his temple. “The drawing is almost as beautiful as you are, Golden Boy.”
“I must say, I was impressed when I first saw your submission,” said a new and unwelcome voice. We turned and looked at Ryder, who wore a light gray tuxedo and pale pink bow tie that complimented his blond looks. “In fact, this piece of art is the talk of the event. I expect it will sell for a handsome sum.”
“I hope so,” Ollie said, staring into my eyes. “I’m donating the sale proceeds to Ryan’s Place.”
“Ollie,” I said, sounding as stunned as I felt. “You can’t do that.”
“Of course, I can. It’s my art, and I can do whatever I want with it.”
“You need—” Warm, firm lips cut off my words and robbed me of the ability to argue.
“All I need is you. The rest is just extra.”
Ryder cleared his throat to regain our attention.
“Are you still here?” Ollie asked without taking his eyes off mine. I grinned at his display of irritation.
“Archie, can I talk to you in private for a minute?” Ryder asked testily.
“No,” I told him. I finally tore my gaze away from Ollie’s warm eyes to look into Ryder’s artic ones. “Anything you want to say to me can and should be said in front of Ollie.”
“Fine,” Ryder said haughtily. “I have something to say to him too.” He tilted his head to the left then the right, stretching out his neck then straightened his already perfectly aligned bow tie. These were signs he was nervous which was pretty rare. “I owe you both an apology for my behavior.” I would’ve been less stunned if he told me Elvis Presley was his lab partner. “I was wrong to try to create trouble in your relationship. I’ve been observing the two of you since you arrived, and it’s obvious to see how much you love one another. I’m a big enough man to admit my mistakes and wish both of you the very best.”
I narrowed my eyes and scrutinized him closely. “Is this a trick?”
Ryder chuckled and put his hands up in front of him like he was surrendering, his pale eyes twinkling with mirth. “No trick, Archie. I just need to put my energies into finding a man who will look at me the way you two look at each other.”
“Apology accepted.” Ollie extended his hand toward Ryder. “I hope you find him too,” Ollie added when Ryder shook his hand.
“Take care of yourself, Archie,” Ryder said, offering me a reserved smile before he left us alone once more.
“That was an interesting turn of events,” I told Ollie. “Not at all what I expected.”
“Me either,” Ollie said, sounding distracted. I turned to follow his line of vision and saw he was looking at a tall, dark-haired man who’d opted to wear a black, V-neck sweater and charcoal gray pants instead of a formal suit like the rest of us. There was an aura about the man which spoke of power and privilege, and it was doubtful anyone would approach him and ask he leave. The man wasn’t looking in our direction, so I was unable to tell the color of his eyes, but I guessed they would be dark to match his inky hair and swarthy skin.
“Do you know that man?” I asked Ollie.
“I don’t, but it would seem Ryder has picked up the intense focus of a man after all.”
I turned and saw the mystery man was indeed watching Ryder circulate around the room greeting attendees. “So it seems. Should we tip him off?”
“Heck no,” Ollie said. “There’s a lot of fun to be found in the chase.”
I pulled him against me and pressed my lips to his ear. “What do you say we finish checking out the other pieces so we can get out of here? The way you look in your tux makes me want to do very naughty things to you, and I don’t need an audience.”
“And if I assured you I knew of a secluded place we could go? I’m not sure I can wait much longer to find out what you’re wearing beneath your tux.”
My eyes widened in surprise, but oh, how I loved this side of Ollie. I offered my hand to him and said, “Show me the way, Golden Boy.”