Chapter 7
Although Ford made a comfortable living, he had a mortgage and home maintenance costs for his townhouse in Missouri, even higher rent for a studio in DC, a car payment, a lot of travel expenses, and no dependents, so his taxes were through the roof. Because of that, he didn’t have much money left for extravagances, which meant his lifestyle was the same as an adult as it had been growing up in a household with three siblings, a stay-at-home mother, and a father who had an only slightly higher income than him.
Ford’s family had always prided itself on being like every other middle class family and while he certainly had been exposed to more than his fair share of wealth, he had never seen anything close to the likes of Trevor Moga. The bathroom he stood in was a prime example: marble floors, double vanities with televisions in the mirrors, a separate toilet and bidet, a soaking tub, and a shower with full-body massaging sprays. But opulent surroundings aside, Trevor came across as exceptionally low key and informal in everything from his relaxed posture to his bordering on crass but undeniably arousing manner of speaking.
As he washed himself using the salon-quality products provided by the hotel, Ford tried to visualize Trevor in his world. The mental image that came to mind was his mother’s dining room table, where his family still ate Sunday supper every week. Trevor’s parents were reason enough why he’d never be welcome. They, along with their Democrat colleagues, were a source of consternation and therefore frequent conversation in the Hollingsworth household. Then there was the possibility that Trevor would mention his disbelief in God or his aversion to church. And Ford couldn’t even begin to imagine how his sisters would react to having their children in the same space as a man who was sleeping with their brother.
Shaking off the ridiculous ideas, Ford reminded himself that he was in Washington, DC, hundreds of miles away from St. Louis, and there was no chance of the man he was sleeping with making an appearance at his family home. Unfortunately, what he intended as an internal reassurance instead pained him because he had never considered himself the type of person who would engage in casual sex.
Being with Trevor was a reminder of how far Ford continued to stray from his life path, and yet, he couldn’t stay away when he saw Trevor at the reception that night and he couldn’t say no when Trevor asked him to stay the weekend, because the truth was, Ford liked Trevor in a way that had nothing to do with sex. And if that wasn’t confirmation that he was gay, he didn’t know what was. Not that he needed confirmation.
Suddenly tired, Ford sighed and turned off the water. The time for revealing that aspect of himself to his parents, and maybe even to his constituents, was well past due. He dragged his palms over his head, squeezing out the excess water, and then wiped his fingertips over his eyes to do the same.
“Ford?” said Trevor as he knocked on the bathroom door. “You decent?” He paused. “Or better yet, really, really indecent?”
Ford snorted, opened the shower door, and called out, “Come on in.” Difficult conversations could wait. For now he’d cherish his opportunity to spend three days alone with Trevor. He picked up a fluffy towel and began drying himself. “Did I take too long in here?”
“Nope.” Trevor walked in, holding a thick white robe. “But I sent your clothes out to get cleaned and the room’s a bit too chilly for dinner in the buff so I’m bringing you a robe.”
“You didn’t mention this weekend came with laundry and dry cleaning services,” Ford teased, trying to keep the mood light in the face of his increasingly heavy feelings. “Any other fun surprises?”
“Does shoe shining count as fun?”
Ford laughed, then stopped, cleared his throat and said, “Are they seriously shining my shoes?”
“I doubt they’re doing it at this very second, but sometime between tonight and tomorrow afternoon it’ll get done.”
His earlier stresses all but forgotten, Ford tossed his towel over the rack and then stepped toward Trevor. “You’re very thoughtful.” He cupped Trevor’s cheek and kissed him lightly on the lips. “Thank you.”
“It isn’t a big deal, but if you really want to express your gratitude, I have some ideas.” Trevor draped the robe around Ford’s shoulders. “Fair warning, they’re of the X-rated variety.”
“I’m in.” Ford slid his arms through the sleeves and tied the belt around his waist.
“You’re agreeing before you hear the details? What if my ideas are very, very kinky?”
Arching his eyebrows, Ford said, “Were those two verys or three verys?”
“Your decision point is the number of verys?” Trevor asked disbelievingly.
“Not really.” Ford moved closer and wound his arms around Trevor’s waist. “I pretty much made my decision when I followed you out of that conference center tonight.”
“Oh, I see.” Trevor draped his arms over Ford’s shoulders. “So by getting into my car tonight you put yourself at my mercy and now I can do anything I want to you?”
“Something like that.” Ford felt his cheeks stretch and realized he was smiling, which made him notice he was happy. That happened a lot when he was with Trevor. “Want to tell me what I’ve gotten myself into with my impetuous actions?”
“If all goes as planned, you’ll be getting into me in the not too distant future, but dinner’s hot, so first we’ll get a meal into you.”
“Neither of those activities strikes me as particularly kinky,” Ford pointed out.
“I qualified my question with a ‘what if.’”
“For someone who didn’t go to law school, you’re remarkably partial to the verbal semantics.”
Trevor shuddered dramatically. “Perish the thought.”
“Hey now. It’s poor form to insult lawyers in front of one.”
“No insult intended. Lawyers are great. Some of my closest friends are lawyers.”
Arching his eyebrows, Ford said, “At this point, I can’t tell if you’re serious or joking around.”
“Little of both.” Trevor held up his hand with his thumb and pointer finger a couple of inches apart. “Law is as good a field as any, but both of my parents are lawyers and it’s the standard base for a career in politics, so I decided early on that I’d never, ever go that route.”
“You really hate politics, don’t you?” Ford left out the question he really wanted to ask, which was how Trevor felt about his parents. Every time they neared the topic, Trevor smoothly diverted the conversation. While Ford understood Trevor’s reluctance to share something negative about the president and first lady with a professional adversary, he wanted to get to know Trevor for reasons having nothing to do with his job.
“I really hate politics,” Trevor confirmed. “So let’s talk about something else.”
“Like what?”
“Well.” Trevor tugged on Ford’s robe collar and then threaded his fingers with Ford’s and walked out of the bathroom and through the bedroom. “We can start with whether you prefer fish or beef because there’s a poached salmon and a filet waiting for us.”
Though he hoped Trevor would eventually share personal information with him, for the moment, Ford went along with the topic change. “I’m sure they’re both great and I’m not a picky eater. Give me whichever one you don’t want.”
“I’m good with both too. How about we share? It’ll be like making our own surf and turf.”
“Brilliant idea.” They stepped into the dining room and Ford glanced from the beautifully and elaborately set table for eight to Trevor. “Uh, I see more than two plates here and I’m not dressed for company.”
“No company.” Trevor rubbed his hands up and down Ford’s arms. “Instead of providing us a waiter for the meal, I asked them to set up all the courses at once.”
“A waiter? In a hotel room?”
“Yes. I think they call him a butler here, but the idea’s the same. Anyway, he set up the food and left.” Trevor pointed to two chairs across from each other at the closest end of the table. “Those are plates for our appetizers, which are on that covered silver dish between them.” He pointed to the next set of chairs. “Those are our salads, already plated.” He indicated the third set of chairs. “Those are the entrees, fish and steak.” Then he pointed to the final set at the farthest end of the table. “And those are plates for dessert. I asked for a sampling so we can try a little of everything.”
“I’ve never experienced anything like this,” Ford admitted quietly.
“Anything like what?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “You show up out of nowhere, whisk me away to a fancy hotel, get my clothes cleaned, and then lay out a nicer dinner than I’ve seen at weddings.” Ford drew in a deep breath and looked Trevor in the eyes. “Do you do this sort of thing a lot?”
“Am I coming on too strong?”
“No,” Ford said firmly. “I just need to know if this is your normal.” Because the way Trevor’s generosity and thoughtfulness made Ford feel was anything but his own normal and he didn’t want to get ahead of himself.
Holding Ford’s gaze, Trevor said, “I’m not in the habit of providing people laundry service.” He trailed his fingertips over Ford’s eyebrow, down the side of his face, and over his lips. “And you’re the first guy I’ve ever whisked away to a fancy hotel for the weekend.” Trevor leaned forward, took Ford’s bottom lip between both of his, and tugged at it. “Does that answer your question?”
Anything less would have made Ford feel silly and cheap, like he was one of the many objects Trevor could buy without batting an eye. Anything more would have overwhelmed and pressured him to take a closer look at what he was doing and what it meant.
“Yeah.” Ford nodded. “Thanks.” He breathed in deeply and refocused on the table. “So we’re moving from seat to seat with each course? Like a progressive dinner, except at one location?”
“I’ve never been to a progressive dinner, but yes, the concept’s the same.”
“Never? Back home we did them all the time with our church group. But nothing we ate ever looked this good.” He inhaled deeply and his stomach growled. “Or smelled this good.”
Chuckling, Trevor reached for the back of the first chair and pulled it out. “Let’s eat.” He waited for Ford to sit, then took the spot across from him, and raised the cover off the silver serving plate between them, revealing an assortment of scallops and oysters. “Did you like those progressive dinners when you were growing up or was it more of a familial obligation?”
“I never really thought about it.” Ford shrugged. “The church group started as a pre-marriage group so our parents were friends before we were born.” He picked up a scallop. “We’d all known each other forever.”
Brow furrowed in confusion, Trevor asked, “What’s a pre-marriage group?”
“It’s a set of classes through our church for couples to attend before they get married. They learn how to be good spouses, manage money, plan for children. My sisters all went too. But our church group was the families from when my parents did the class before they got married.”
“Wow. That’s an impressive length of time to be friends with the same people.” Trevor handed Ford the last oyster. “Want to move to the salad chairs?”
“Salad chairs,” Ford said with a chuckle as he got up. “That reminds me of that line from the Nicolas Cage movie about salad days.”
Trevor cleared his throat and then, in a slow cadence drawled, “‘These were the happy days. The salad days as they say. And Ed felt that havin’ a critter was the next logical step. It was all she thought about. Her point was that there was too much love and beauty for just the two of us and every day we kept a child out of the world was a day he might later regret havin’ missed.’”
“Oh wow.” Ford was frozen, halfway out of his chair, staring at Trevor. “You sound just like him.”
“I’ve had lots of practice.” Trevor stood and moved to the next seat over. “Tuesday night was Raising Arizona night in my frat house at college. We’d all sit around the main living area, drink beer, and watch the movie. The tradition was to say the whole introduction in exactly the same dialect as H.I. McDunnough.” He tapped the side of his head. “Do that often enough and it sticks with you.”
“That’s what those few kids brilliant enough to get into Stanford do in their free time?” Ford asked as he switched seats. “Memorize movie lines?”
“Yup. We like to call it networking.”
“The only line from that movie I can remember verbatim is, ‘Turn to the left. Turn to the left.’”
“Right.”
“What?”
“The line’s ‘Turn to the right.’”
Ford shook his head. “My fraternity clearly wasn’t as dedicated to the arts as yours.”
“What frat were you in?” Trevor asked, taking a bite of salad.
“Sigma Chi. You?”
“Say-kahs-kar-ah-tahs.”
“Stegg-ah-man-krees-tose,” Ford responded reflexively. “You’re a Sig too?”
“Mmm hmm. But I was less into the ritual and more into the movie nights.”
Pointing around the room, Ford said, “Well, it seems to have served you well. Meanwhile, I wasted my time at Wash U with my head in a book.”
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”
“That I wasted my time or that I was as dull in college as I am now?”
“Not dull.” Trevor reached his arm across the table and rubbed his palm over the back of Ford’s hand. “Earnest. I see you as the type who sat in the front row and made sure to have his reading done before class in case he got called on.”
“Both true. And it wasn’t easy, let me tell you. Especially because I always had the misfortune to get roomed with people who skipped the bookstore and hit the liquor store instead.” Ford ate more salad. “Or maybe they’re the ones with the misfortune because they got stuck with me.”
“I’m sure you were a very considerate roommate.”
“Considerate. Just what every twenty-year-old guy is hoping to be remembered for.”
“Well, I for one would have loved to share a room with you when I was twenty.” Trevor leered at him. “And not because you’re considerate.”
Ford cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “Something tells me our roommate experience would have been vastly different than the ones I had.”
“I suspect you’re right.” Trevor gazed at him in silence for several long seconds and then picked up his fork and looked at his plate. “Do you keep in touch with any of your old roommates?”
Ford opened his mouth to answer and then paused. What would it be like to have one person in his life who knew him exactly as he was? No pretending to be something he wasn’t or like something he didn’t, just being himself.
“Do you want the real answer or the one I’m supposed to give?” Ford asked.
Arching his eyebrows, Trevor said, “Both. Last one first.”
After taking in a deep breath and then releasing it, Ford said, “My parents always encourage me to keep in touch with people. Staying close to friends from high school and college and law school shows I’m loyal and have roots and…I don’t know, other things too. So I sort of try but…”
“And the real answer?” Trevor asked quietly.
“The real answer is I see their posts on Facebook and know more about them now than I did when we lived in the same place and the only things they talked about were how drunk they were and how late they’d stayed up the night before.” He sighed. “See? I’m boring. Even when I was younger and everyone looked forward to whatever the big party was on the weekend, I looked forward to the dorm being empty and quiet so I could get my work done or read.”
“I don’t think you’re boring. A homebody, maybe, but not boring.” Trevor’s voice and expression held nothing but sincerity.
“What about you?” Ford asked. “Do you stay in touch with people?”
“A lot of people stay in touch with me.”
“I’m not surprised.” Ford had never enjoyed another person’s company the way he did Trevor’s. “You’re friendly and fun and easy to get along with.”
“I’m also rich, connected, and easy to target.”
Setting down his fork, Ford leaned forward. “You think they keep in touch to use you?”
“Not intentionally. Or at least with most people it’s not intentional. But the fact of the matter is, I’ve made a lot of introductions and given a lot of people jobs over the years. I won’t hire someone if I don’t think it’ll be good for my company long term and it’s not a problem to connect people who can help each other, but everyone knows who I am and what I make. You know that firsthand. All it took was a quick Google search, right?”
“I’m not after your money or—”
“I know,” Trevor said reassuringly. “I’m good at picking up on that, believe me. Originally, you were after my dick.” Trevor grinned and Ford felt his neck heat. “And I’m thinking now maybe you’re after…” He let the sentence trail off, his inflection making it sound like a question.
What did he want from Trevor? Why was he there? The easy answer was sex and it was a true answer. But sex wasn’t a reason to share things about himself. Sex wasn’t a reason to sit over dinner and laugh. Sex wasn’t a reason to want to know more about the man across the table. Friendship? Is that what he wanted? Could he actually be friends with the openly gay son of a Democrat president? And did people want to kiss their friends? To touch them and smell them and feel their arms wrapped around them as they fell asleep at night?
“Ehm.” Ford cleared away the sudden thickness in his throat. “Now I’m after the next course. Ready for surf and turf?”