Chapter Twenty-Five

 

 

“YOU RACK. I’ll put the quarters in.”

After downing the rest of his third drink, Forrester set the glass down and gathered all the balls under nine. He put them in the diamond-shaped rack. “We playing slop?”

“Sure,” Dino replied, chalking up his cue.

The John Fogerty song “Centerfield” came over the jukebox. “I love this song. Hey, George!” Forrester called out, feeling more than pleasantly buzzed. “Turn it up!”

The bartender happily obliged, and a few people, already well on their way to being hammered, cheered. Joey was one of the loudest, at which Forrester observed, “Joey better get a ride home.”

“Amanda’s already on it,” Dino said as he took the break. He sank the seven and the four.

“Nice,” Forrester told him as he chalked his own cue. He sniffed a laugh. Chalking his cue. Where was Lucas when he needed him? He never got tired of that joke.

Dino nodded and studied the red felt, looking for a clean shot at the object ball. “So who’s the guy?”

Forrester planted the end of his stick on the ground, the sharp crack of the balls smacking each other and then whizzing around less startling than the cryptic question. His eyes darted to Kyle, but he played casual. “A friend.”

Dino lined up his next shot. After nailing the two-ball into the corner pocket, he asked, “A friend you go to gay bars with?”

Forrester blinked a few times to make sure he’d just heard what he thought he had.

Then it hit him.

The conversation with Amanda….

Fuck!

Dino knew where his wife had been Thursday night. How could Forrester have been so stupid? All the blood in his body rushed to his face, heating it until he surely looked as red as his baseball cap. He swore his tongue swelled to twice its size too.

Just tell the truth. This is Dino. He’ll understand….

His brother didn’t say anything else, just took his next turn. When he lost the shot, he indicated the table was Forrester’s.

Bending over, his entire body on edge, Forrester took his turn, not making contact with a single ball.

When Dino approached him, he stepped back to give him room, but his brother leaned in to whisper, “I know them girls went to that gay bar because of the strippers. And Amanda told me about dancing with drag queens. What the hell were you two doin’ there?”

Tell him!

But his throat tightened and his jaw clenched as if his body had some sort of self-preservation instinct, warning him to keep his mouth shut, no matter what Dino said next. He’d spent years trying to find the right time to tell Dino, and now was not the right time. Not in the middle of Smitty’s.

But dammit, he didn’t want to lie.

They both faced the table, sticks planted on the floor in front of them, staring down at the red felt scattered with balls. To anyone else, they appeared to be studying their next move, not standing on the precipice of a life-altering conversation.

Whatever path he chose, nothing would ever be the same. He took a shaky breath.

It’s time….

“What do you think we were doing?” Forrester heard his mouth say.

Dino gave him a playful elbow in the side. “Were you guys cruising for chicks? Joey said a lot of hotties hang out there. Was it ladies’ night or something?”

At one time, Forrester would’ve laughed along, taken the out his brother provided. But he just wanted to be himself. Didn’t he deserve that? Keeping the two parts of his life separate, the misdirecting, the outright lying at times, had taken its toll.

If he wanted a chance at a real future with the man he loved, it was now or never.

“No, Dino. We weren’t there to pick up chicks,” he said softly.

“What?”

“We… Kyle and I were… together.” The words sounded like someone else had taken them from inside him, using his body as a puppet and making them stumble out. “Like together, together.”

Forrester held his breath, refusing to meet his brother’s eyes. His heart pounded, his veins spreading the alcohol through his body faster than the pistons of an engine. Absurdly he noticed the jukebox changed songs. Now “Sweet Home Alabama” blared from the overhead speakers.

Racist fucking song.

Dino let out an awkward chuckle.

Forrester’s gaze shifted back to him.

“Fuck,” Dino exclaimed in a whisper. His head dropped under the weight of the discovery, and then he stared openmouthed at Forrester. “You serious?”

Clutching the cue tighter, he forced the words out, though he didn’t know where the oxygen came to form them. “Yeah. I’m gay.”

Dino laughed.

The sound was a sucker punch, and for a second Forrester couldn’t breathe, the blood thumping hard in his ears. “Why are you laughing?”

“Are you shitting me?” Dino laughed even harder.

Forrester’s whole body went hot, and he stood there, breathless and unable to move as his brother laughed at him. “This isn’t funny, Dino,” he said, tamping down the hurt.

“Like hell it isn’t!” he insisted, wiping at his eyes.

“Dammit, quit laughing.”

Dino squinted at him, his face incredulous with hilarity. “You’re into dudes?” He barked with more laughter. “That’s so messed-up.”

Pain lacerated Forrester at the cruel sound, and he couldn’t disguise the desperation in his voice. “Please, just stop laughing.”

Still chuckling, Dino raised his hand to concede. “Okay, okay,” he sniggered. “Guess I’m out a hundred bucks.”

“What?”

Dino’s humor disappeared, and he fidgeted like someone caught in a lie. He lined up his cue instead of answering.

Forrester’s stomach contorted when it dawned on him. “You sons of bitches took a bet on me?”

Dino looked up at him, cue still in position. “Yeah, so what if we did?” He shook his head in disbelief once more, and then he chuckled again. “Tony bet me and Joey that you were a….” His gaze darted to Forrester, then quickly away, his amusement fading.

“A fag?”

Dino flinched.

Temper sparking, Forrester set his cue on the floor, hard. “That’s the word you’re looking for, right? Fag?”

The word felt like some bizarre benediction. Whether it was appletinis on an empty stomach and that tequila shot Joey gave him, or a lifetime of pent-up rage, he didn’t know. But he wanted to scream the word right there inside Smitty’s. It had been stabs of a dull blade each time someone he loved had said it, but now something intensely freeing came over him using their own ignorance against them.

Dino said nothing, taking his shot and missing.

“What? Can’t say the word all of a sudden? Since when?” Forrester challenged, trying to temper his volume and failing miserably. “I know you got some good ones. Real funny stuff. Butt-pirate, peter-puffer, sperm-burper.” He gave his chin a sarcastic tap. “Though it doesn’t really make you burp, if you must know.”

Dino’s face twisted with shock and revulsion. “Keep it down, Frankie. You want somebody to hear you?”

“Or maybe you don’t want anyone to hear me.”

Looking around, Dino clenched his fists at his sides, like he wanted to hit him.

Forrester wished he would punch him.

At least that hurt would eventually heal.

He pursed his trembling lips, refusing to allow Dino to see the pain tearing him up inside. Then he threw his stick down on the slate, knocking the balls all over the felt. “Go fuck yourself, Dino!”

At the outburst, the people playing darts behind them turned to stare.

“Take a picture, it lasts longer,” Forrester snarled at them.

They rolled their eyes and returned to their game.

Forrester stormed back toward Kyle, shoving through the celebrating bar patrons. Maybe someone said something to him, but the blood thundered so loud in his ears, he couldn’t be sure. He snatched up Kyle’s beer and chugged it down.

“Hey, what’s—” Kyle stopped short when he saw Forrester. “I wasn’t going to finish that or anything.”

Wincing at the bitter flavor, Forrester slammed the empty bottle on the bar. “We’re leaving. Now.”

“Okay, I have to pay our tab first.”

“Then get to it,” he snapped, gesturing irritably. “I’ll be outside.”

He had to get out of there.

He didn’t know how to stop the combustible thing building up inside him. If he stayed a second longer, the explosion might come out in great hiccupping sobs or a murderous rampage.

Neither would be good.

He couldn’t believe this was how it had finally played out. He’d agonized over every scenario, telling them privately, getting caught walking into the Flames, some big Italian drama with the Spaghetti Hotline ringing off the hook. But in all of them, Dino had never been cruel. Laughing at him like his whole life was some hilarious joke? And his brothers had made a bet on him?

Rushing outside, he rubbed his face, fighting back tears. When the door shut, the raucous laughter inside the bar disappeared and the hot July air slapped his flaming cheeks like cruel fists. Wound tight and straining to burst, he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. He paced outside the door, pulling off his hat and clenching fistfuls of his hair, trying to contain his emotions. In a matter of five minutes, he’d traversed elation, fear, anger.

And misery was close on its heels.

A familiar voice in the parking lot drew him up short. Squinting into the semidarkness, Forrester saw Joey, arms wide, arguing with a shorter man. He recognized the little greaseball immediately.

“Dammit,” Forrester spat, a cold fury welling up inside him and needing an outlet.

Alfie fucking Parisi seemed as good as any.

“Joey!” Forrester shouted, slamming his hat back on so his fists could be free. “What the fuck are you doing?”

His brother’s eyes widened, and Alfie frowned.

“Frankie, just wait a second,” Joey began as Forrester stormed forward. “Alfie and I are just talking.”

Alfie took a step back when Forrester pointed at him. “What did you get my brother into now, Alfie?”

Fast as lightning a strong hand gripped his arm, stopping him in his tracks.

Kyle had ahold of him. “Dammit, what’s the matter with you?”

The force of Kyle’s question stunned Forrester enough to freeze. He’d never heard Kyle raise his voice in anger, not even when Jasper pissed on the bed.

Blood still pounding, Forrester took a breath, the binds on his chest loosening. “Nothing, let’s go.” He planted his hands on his hips, turning his head side to side. “Where the fuck is the car?”

Kyle depressed the key fob, and the headlights flashed off to their right as the car chirped happily to indicate its location. Without another word, he walked away, and Forrester followed.

“Hey, Frankie, wait up,” Joey called.

With a growl, Forrester waved him off. “I don’t care anymore, Giuseppe.”

Looking none too pleased, Kyle opened the passenger door and gestured him inside like an errant child. “Get in.”

Forrester didn’t argue but obediently piled in, his entire body still vibrating with humiliation. Kyle slammed the car door, making Forrester jump. After he got behind the wheel, he repeated the door slamming. Offering Forrester a scowl, he wordlessly turned the engine over. Revving it once, he put the car in gear and pulled onto the main road.

Once they were a few miles away from the bar, Forrester’s heart rate returned to a less-than-fatal pace, and he realized what an ass he’d just been to Kyle. “I’m sorry.”

“Would you like to explain to me what that little psychotic episode was all about?” Kyle asked in a studied, calm voice—so calm it unsettled Forrester more than the yelling.

Forrester’s lip trembled, and tears smarted his eyes. His face contorted as he tried to stop them from falling, but he couldn’t. Burying his face in his hands, a broken sob escaped him.

“Babe? What’s wrong?”

“They made a bet on me,” he blubbered through a sudden flurry of tears. Dammit, I shouldn’t have drank so much!

“A bet on what? Oh, you don’t mean…?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean!”

Kyle placed an appeasing hand on his knee. “Please tell me what happened so we can talk about it. Rationally, huh? Not like some hysterical Italian opera, okay?”

Forrester gave him a begrudging sniff.

“There are tissues in the glove box,” Kyle told him in a softer tone, popping the compartment open for him.

After drying his face and regaining some semblance of composure, Forrester reached for Kyle’s hand. Anchored by the connection, his heart quieted, and he told Kyle everything.

“I can’t believe you said all that stuff to Dino.” Kyle’s expression was divided between disapproval and amusement. “Did you actually say butt-pirate?”

It might have been funny if Dino hadn’t been such a jerk.

“He just laughed at me,” Forrester muttered, his lips swollen.

“I’m so sorry.” Kyle stroked the back of his hand with his thumb.

His cell phone rang.

“You don’t have to answer it.”

Forrester looked at the caller ID. Joey. “Hello?”

“Why did you yell at me, then run off?” Joey asked, talking loud over the sounds of the bar in the background. “You coming back? I need you to spot me a twenty.”

The anger he thought he’d reined in roared back to life. “Why didn’t you get it from Alfie? Don’t you lie to me. You’re still hanging out with him, aren’t you?”

Joey sniffed. “Yeah, like you got any room to talk to me about lying. How long you been keeping it a secret that you’re queer?”

Squeezing his phone tight to his ear, he hissed, “Don’t you ever fucking call me a queer, Giuseppe Giordano! Don’t you ever say that word again, or so help me God, I’ll wring your fucking neck!”

“Jesus Mary and Joseph, don’t blow your O-ring,” he said with a liberal dose of sarcasm. “Fine, I won’t say it again. But don’t you call me a liar. Like I said before, I’m not working for Alfie and we’re not friends.”

Blood pounded in his ears. “Oh yeah? Then what was he doing there?”

“None of your business.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Joey said in a high-and-mighty way. “If you can keep the secret that you’re gay, I can keep secrets too. How do you like them apples?”

Forrester liked them so little he wanted to reach through the phone and throttle Joey.

A voice in the background cut him short. “Who’s gay, Joey?”

It sounded like Marla with the mouth as big as her tits. Before Forrester could tell Joey to keep his trap shut, he heard his brother reply, “My brother Frankie. I guess that dude Kyle was his boyfriend or partner. Whatever they call it. Yo, Frankie? Which is it? Boyfriend or partner? I don’t know all the gay lingo, and I don’t need you yelling at me about it again.”

Forrester’s mouth opened and closed like a landlocked fish’s. He lowered the phone from his ear, as if somehow not hearing Joey’s voice might make the last ten seconds disappear.

“What is it?” Kyle asked.

He gaped at the phone. “H—he just outed me. He….” Putting the phone back to his ear, he whispered, “Did you just out me at Smitty’s?”

“What do you mean out you?” Joey asked, confused. “I thought everybody knew. Dino came over and told me after you left. Even Amanda knows. I can’t believe Tony was right. Bastard made me pay up, and now I can’t pay my tab.”

Speechless, Forrester’s mouth remained open, but no sound beside unintelligible squeaks came out.

“What did you say, Frankie?” Joey asked. “I can barely hear you. Must be a bad connection.”

Forrester just shook his head, his entire body trembling, and disconnected his phone. He dropped it into his lap, staring at it as if it were a stick of dynamite ready to explode.

“What happened?” Kyle asked, dividing anxious looks between Forrester and the road.

“Joey just outed me. Right now the whole bar is laughing at me.”

“Maybe not,” Kyle said in a placating tone. “Maybe they realize this isn’t a joking matter.”

“You have no idea what they’re like when they’re drinking. Everything’s a joke. You should’ve heard how hard Dino was laughing.”

He’d desperately wanted to believe that while Dino might make gay jokes, he wouldn’t think Forrester was a joke.

Turned out his fears had been justified all along.

His cell sounded again. Like he wasn’t in possession of his own body, he answered it.

“Hey, Frankie. It’s me. You okay?”

Hearing Tony’s calm voice on the other end caused him to erupt like a volcano. “You fucking asshole!”

Kyle jumped when he shouted. “Babe, you need to calm down.”

“What the hell?” Tony sneered. “I was just calling to see how you were doing. What’s your problem?”

Forrester let out a loud laugh, which sounded insane even to his own ears. “You called to gloat, don’t even deny it, you asshole,” he growled, throttling the phone like he wished he could do to Tony. “I can’t believe you made a bet about me!”

“So what if I did?” Tony challenged. “You should’ve fessed up a long time ago.”

“Are you kidding me right now?” He sounded hysterical, he knew it, but he didn’t care. “You think it’s okay to make a bet on me like my life’s a ball game? Fuck you, Tony!”

Forrester fumbled for the stupid Disconnect button. He growled when he missed it, wishing he still had a flip phone so he could have the satisfaction of slamming it shut.

Rolling down the window and chucking it into the street was far more rewarding.

Noticing Kyle staring, mouth agape, Forrester realized he must look like a lunatic. “Sorry for shouting,” he mumbled.

Kyle merely pressed the button to roll up the window.