Andy Stevenson vs. The Lord of the Loins (24 page)

"Shhh...” he soothed me. The poor guy had absolutely no idea why I was crying, and I couldn't say anything that sounded intelligible, so no wonder he was telling me to be quiet. “It's okay. It's okay.” He held me tighter.

Alan said many more things to me, but I had no idea what they were. In his desire to both protect me and put me at ease, he covered one of my ears with his arm and rubbed his hand through my hair and over my other ear.

"What are you doing up here a night early?” I asked when I finally calmed down enough to put consonants and vowels together in an order that made sense. It also helped that he loosened his grip on my head.

"I called your parents to thank you for mixing some of your underwear in with mine.” Sarcasm. “And when they said you were already on your way back to school, I figured I could put off strangling you another day.” More sarcasm. “Guess I must have missed your goofy ass a little more than I thought because here I am.” Semi-sarcasm. Alan cared about me, and he was showing it the only way he knew how, by berating me. Yep, we'd become like so many heterosexual couples.

I told him everything that happened to me from the time I left until I walked back through the door. He called me a moron for going at all then took it back once I reminded him that it was his idea I go in hopes of making peace with Tristan. After a little bit of thought, he called me a moron for having listened to him in the first place. Either way, he was bound and determined to call me a moron, and I did finally ask him to stop calling me that. How moronic of me was it not to sleep with someone at the bathhouse? How moronic of me was it to know that I didn't have to go out to the market when I had the fruit at home?

"I don't mean to interrupt this little inner monologue you have going here, but ... fruit?” He glared at me.

"Yes, my little piranha fish.” I grinned weakly. “Even Adam took a bite of the forbidden fruit. Can't Andy?"

"You already did ... twice,” he reminded me. “Why? Are you saying you want to take a bite with me now?” He asked in such an even voice that I couldn't tell what his opinion on the matter was, or how I should answer.

"We've been really good about keeping things in perspective so far and not rushing.” This line of reasoning certainly wasn't going to convince him that I wouldn't mind moving forward. “And we've still remained good friends. Heck, we're better friends for not having done it so far.” No, no, no! “So, yes, I think we should totally move forward."

"Are you sure you're ready?” Alan pressed.

"Let's see. I've been stalked for the past two months, outed in the classified section of the school newspaper, returned from a bathhouse tonight after turning a diverse number of men down, run from the police through the streets of Grand Rapids in a towel and flashed a friend's parents.” I added it all up in my head. “Yeah, I'm pretty sure I can handle taking things to the next level with the guy I'm head over heels crazy about."

There, I'd said it. If he was going to put this all on me, then I was ready and willing to accept the risks of what it might do to our relationship.

"Let's!” He pulled his shirt off and leaned towards me.

Pound! Pound! Pound!

"Andy Stevenson!” Kim's voice screamed out. Did
everybody
come back early? I was just about to have my first multi-cultural experience and ... “I know goddamn well you're in there! I called your parents and they said you came back today. I've been calling you for the past two hours and finally realized you took your phone off the hook. Now open this door and let me in!"

"Shhh.” I put my finger over my lips and hoped he'd get my less-than-subtle hint that maybe she'd go away if we were really quiet—Wait a second. “You took the phone off the hook?” I looked at Alan, and he shrugged his shoulders.

"I didn't want anyone interrupting us."

"Oh, I see.” I gave him a small push to the chest. “Just in case I'm the one who wanted to have sex, you wanted to make sure that we wouldn't be interrupted."

"Well...” He looked thoughtful. “...it's an important decision, and I wanted to make sure you didn't have any distractions when making up your mind."

"Very thoughtful ... you liar! You had a pretty good idea what would happen tonight."

"Only if we were ready.” He looked slightly offended.

"And you were going to let me think that this was all my idea?” Oh, he was good. He was really good. “I'm on to you."

"I'm sorry,” Kim yelled from outside. “Do you think I can't hear the two of you talking through the goddamn door?"

"Well, shit.” I pouted. “She's still there."

"And I don't think she's going away.” Alan pouted, too.

"If we wait long enough...” I tried to give us a little false hope.

"
Now!
” She just wasn't about to give us our peace and quiet.

"All right,” I called out to her, stood up and opened the door. Kim pushed right by me carrying a gallon jug of wine.

"It's about fu—” She looked over at Alan sitting on my floor without his shirt. “Starting or finishing?"

"Still in the hopeful stage.” I was only going to be so nice for so long.

"I need a drink. How about the two of you?"

"No, thanks.” I shut the door. “I was doing a pretty good job without alcohol.” I caught a whiff of her breath and a vivid flash of my grandmother ripped through my mind. “Apparently you aren't, though."

"I've had it with people like you!” She took the cap off the bottle and swallowed a mouthful.

"And by ‘people like you’ you mean...?” Alan asked.

"Mennnnnnnnnnn,” Kim breathed out and spoke at the same time. “What is it with you? The only mofos who want to date me are either broke or they've got IQs five degrees below ant shit!” She took another drink, but I wrestled the bottle out of her hands before she could get much. “And the ones I like ... well.” She motioned to me and Alan. “Y'all just want to do each other."

"Did somebody have a bad spring break?” I looked at the bottle. It was the cheap stuff, which meant we were in for a very long night.

"Oh, honey. Aren't you just the observant one? And you're the worst one, too.” She collapsed on my bed. Damn it! Alan and I were supposed to be doing that. “I can't even mention a guy I like around you because your dick be gettin’ all hard and you'll end up with your legs in the air lettin’ him plug your out hole!"

"Why am . always the one getting it up the ass in your fantasies?"

"Be nice,” Alan warned me. He knew she wouldn't leave without first having her say, and starting a bitchfest with her wasn't going to move things along.

"And you.” She turned to Alan but ended up staring at his chest instead of berating him, “Have really small nipples."

"Okay.” I was getting a bit fed up with this. “You've made your points. Men are bad, I'm worse, Alan has...” Actually, he did have small nipples. “Sweetie,” I looked at him, “please put your shirt on.” Back to Kim. “Would you like to tell us what happened or should we just sit here and take more abuse?"

"Don't tempt me.” She glared at us. “I talked my evil sista Alex into hitting some of the dance clubs with me in downtown Chicago where a ton of cute guys on break were looking to party. Mama knew what she wanted, meow meow meow. We made the circuit, and finally found a place on Halsted where I've never seen so many hot men in an enclosed area in my life. If I ever died and wanted to go to hot-man Heaven, I was there.

"Out of nowhere comes this stallion on three legs. He had the most beautiful eyes, with curly dark lashes, pecs that bulged through a tight shirt and a pecker I couldn't wait to see bulging."

This was getting a bit sordid, and I wasn't sure I wanted my Alan subjected to stories about heterosexual sex. They might corrupt him.

"I walked right up and told him how I like it, where I like it and suggested we find some place private so he could put it there."

"Gay?” I asked her.

"If he was a bank robber,” Kim announced with some amount of bitterness, “he'd tie up the safe and blow the guard!” Her nostrils flared. “Yeah, he was gay."

"Then it must have been a short conversation.” Alan looked as if he was hoping this would be, too.

"Not exactly.” She made a grab for the bottle, but I wouldn't give it to her.

"Was he bi?” Alan wondered out loud. At least I wasn't the only one who was confused now.

"No. He thought I was gay, too.” She smiled, but it was one of those ironic smiles, the kind that's totally devoid of any warmth or humor and could collapse into something else at any moment.

"Kim.” I tried to put it together, only it wasn't working. “If he was gay and he thought you were a lesbian, I still don't understand why he'd be hitting on you. What did he expect you to do, strap something on?” Alan and I chuckled.

"I haven't finished the story yet, honey."

It suddenly stopped being funny when she said that.

"He didn't think I was a lesbian. This motherfucker thought I was in drag! Can you believe that shit?” She threw her hands up into the air. “I've been called every name in the book, but I've never been called a man. Do I look like a man?” She brought her hands down and cupped her breasts. “Do these puppies look like a pair of fat-man boobs?"

"If it helps, you aren't doing anything for me so, no, I don't think you look like a man."

Alan reached over and smacked me on the arm.

"You and your sister probably wandered into a gay bar and didn't realize it. And, okay, maybe it's not flattering to you to be equated with a drag queen, but I'll bet you made any actual drag queens there that night jealous as hell."

"I think he probably thought you were too stylish and fabulous to be a woman,” Alan chimed in, and Kim's face lit up. “Most college women are so used to trying to make themselves look good that they never do anything beyond what they think works for them. Someone who keeps up with the times, experiments with fashion and carries herself with attitude is bound to be mistaken as a drag queen in a gay male environment. It's actually a compliment!” He smiled.

"So, kneeing him in the nuts and knocking out two of his teeth was wrong of me?” Kim asked us in perfect sincerity.

"The police are looking for you, too, huh?” I muttered when I recovered.

"Did my bitch sister call you?"

"No.” I quickly related the events of my evening to her, and I think she'd forgotten her own woes by the time I finished. It's always easier to do that when someone's had a worse night than yourself, especially when that person also accidentally screwed up another friend's life worse than it already was in the process. “I've got part of an idea worked out to take Tristan down a couple of notches, but I need to think the rest of it through. I'm also going to need some help making it happen."

"I'm in.” Kim raised her hand. “The Lord of the Loins is going down, and I want to hang his cock over my fireplace."

"We're not going to castrate him.” I think she was getting a bit ahead of herself, and I didn't like the way it sounded. “But we may get you some therapy. I just want to make sure that he won't be able to do anything to anybody else like he's done to me and, I suspect, a number of others. It has to be direct, but nonviolent. It has to be just enough to get the point across to everybody about him, but nothing he can't eventually recover from. I want to get him back, but I don't want it to be labeled as revenge."

"This already sounds more complicated than it has to be.” Alan was disgusted, but more with Tristan than with me ... I hoped. “Keep things simple and direct. Chop his dick off, give it to Miss Kim and be done with it."

"You're not helping.” He and I were going to have a long talk about this later.

"Whatever.” Kim yawned. “Do you mind if I grab one of your pillows and pass out on the floor?"

"As a matter-of-fact, I do,” I objected.

"Why?” she demanded.

"Kim..."

"Oh.” She looked back over at Alan—without his shirt, since he hadn't bothered to put it on like I'd nicely asked. “I see. I was interrupting something. Apparently, my drama doesn't matter.” There was no way I was going to fall for this, therefore I didn't even bother giving her an answer. “Okay, fine. I can take a hint.” She struggled to stand up and finally managed to do it without losing her balance. “Y'all don't worry about me. The worst that can happen is my black ass falls down the stairs trying to make it up to my floor, but that's okay. I've got insurance. I'll just wallow through life and become a nun."

"You don't get none, so you might as well be one.” I tried to sound as cheerful as possible, and Alan smacked me again. “Oh, come on. Don't even tell me you're falling for this load of horse shit. She can't even walk a straight line when she's sober!"

"It's just,” Kim turned and told Alan, “I don't want to be alone tonight, not when I'm feeling so vulnerable."

I should have known she'd stoop to this level. Swell. She knew she couldn't get to me, so she was trying her sob story out on him.

"I'll just be going now."

I watched as she made it as far as the door before giving it one last try.

"Can I stay and watch?"

"Out!"
Alan and I both yelled.

[Back to Table of Contents]

It was amazing how quickly time passed while I was busy writing my final project and also plotting Tristan's comeuppance. He tried to ask me what happened that night at the bathhouse, but part of the strategy between myself, Kim, Ryan and Alan, who joined in posing as Kim's—let's leave it at “stud,” because I can never quite get the same flow of adjectives she uses—was that I'd never be alone. If and when Tristan approached, and he did, something would quickly come up that required my immediate attention elsewhere.

Since persistence was part of his nature, I knew he'd try calling me. The four of us had a code worked out so that I'd know if it was one of them trying to reach me, otherwise, everybody else got the answering machine. Once he got a clue that calling wasn't going to work, he'd stop by, only I was rarely in or I always had company and couldn't tear myself away from studying to talk with him. I also stopped hanging out in the library.