The Boy Who Came in From the Cold (22 page)

“Kansas City is starting to get a reputation for its coffee,” Cody said with a smile. “I’ve read top critics who put us right up there with New York and San Francisco.”

“Really?”
“Really,” Cody replied. “Now spill it.”

“The coffee?” Todd asked, suddenly regretting opening up to Cody. Did he really want to talk about this? Talking would make it more… real. Did he want to open Pandora’s box?

“You
know
what I mean,” Cody answered.
“No. I don’t,” Todd said stubbornly. “I’ve told you everything.”

“Except the most important part. Why you think you might be bisexual.”

Todd froze a moment, looked around him to see who might have overheard, and saw Cody was right. No one was listening. And if they had overheard, they didn’t care.

How could they not?
he wondered. Especially about something that might just be the biggest thing in his life.

“How did you know?” Todd asked.
“About…?” Cody returned.

“Your… your sexuality. When did you know that… that… that you were…?”
Cody rolled his eyes theatrically. “Gay?”

“Well… not necessarily that,” Todd said. “I mean, you probably had girlfriends, right? When did you know that…?”

“Nope,” Cody replied. “Not one. Never had a girlfriend. Never wanted one. I’ve always known I was gay. Always.”
“Oh, come on,” Todd returned. “Always? What does that mean?”

“Well, since at least fourth grade,” Cody said, running fingers through his brown hair.

 

“Fourth grade? How could you have known since fourth grade?” Todd was stunned. “I didn’t know what sex
was
in fourth grade.”

“Oh, please!” Cody laughed.
“No. I didn’t. I barely knew about the birds and the bees. I was in fifth grade before my asshole stepdad took me into his workshop and showed me magazines with men and women fucking. I was—” Horrified, Todd almost said, and froze.
Holy shit. I was. I
was
horrified.
He thought about Joan. How he’d known her since kindergarten when she had helped him tie his shoes. You weren’t supposed to be able to start school until you could tie your shoes, and she helped him out. He’d learned from her that very day. They’d been inseparable from

that day forward. How he had loved her (still did?), and of course, it was only logical that they become boyfriend and girlfriend. And how that had gone fine until she decided they were old enough, at seventeen, to start having sex. He’d pretty much always done what she wanted because she’d almost always been right. But something happened once they turned sexual. He suddenly found Austin was his best friend instead of her. Todd had begun preferring Austin’s company over Joan’s.
God. How could I have been so blind?

“Maybe you were a late bloomer—”
Really late
, Todd thought.
“—but I knew.”

“How could you know that young?” Todd asked. “You actually knew you were different, that you liked men
instead
of women that young?”

“Yup. It was Al Borland from
Home Improvement
. Oh, my God. I was in love. No doubt about it. While the boys at school went on and on about
Baywatch
and the near-naked girls, for me it was Al. That beard. His hairy chest. Those eyes. And I
loved
his chunky little belly. I would dream about him hugging me.”

Todd gaped at Cody. He wanted a man to hug him when he was only, what? Ten? Silly. It was silly.

“And I was pretty hot for—and don’t laugh—David Hasselhoff, although not as much as I liked Al. It was the belly. That belly and that chest set up my taste for life, I think. Maybe part of why I was so hot for Harry when we met.”

No. It was silly. How could Cody have been in love with a man at that age? Ridiculous.

Trip
.
Todd almost gasped out loud.

Suddenly the image of Connor Trinneer, who played “Trip” Tucker on
Star Trek: Enterprise
came so clearly to his mind that he felt a tingle rush all up and down his body. How mysteriously thrilled he’d been when Trip had suddenly taken off his shirt one night when Todd had been watching the show. When had that been? He wasn’t sure. But he’d been about the same age Cody was when he claimed to have fallen in love with Al Borland.

In the
Star Trek
episode, Trip had been all sweaty. His skin so smooth. How Todd wondered what that skin would feel like. Had it been the desert planet episode? Or was that later? Earlier? Sudden vivid memories hit him of Trip in his blue underwear, and how distinctive his bulge had been. How Todd had stared and how he could clearly and suddenly remember being able to see three distinct sections to the bulge, and how he had known that was the man’s cock and balls. He’d called it a penis back then. Maybe a pee-pee?

Todd suddenly remembered the night clearly, and how he had gotten very hard staring at Trip’s nipples and wondering if there was any way he’d get to see the man naked. How he’d been unable to look away. How he’d lain in bed that night confused and feeling all fluttery. Sweaty. Wondering why his pee-pee was so hard.

Oh, my God.
He hadn’t thought of that night in years. Todd felt sweat break out across his forehead. Good God! It wasn’t possible, was it? Was he looking at men even back then?
“You all right, Todd?”
Todd jerked in his seat and stared at Cody unseeing for just a moment. “Trip,” he whispered.
“Excuse me?” Cody asked.
“On
Star Trek: Enterprise
. I used to stare at his crotch. I didn’t know why. But now….”
Cody didn’t say a word. Just sipped his coffee.
“You saying I was gay back then?” Todd barked.
“I wouldn’t dare to presume.” Cody took another sip.
Dare to presume
. It was like something Peter would say.
My God
, he thought. Was it happening even then?
Cody reached out and touched Todd’s hand. He jerked it away as if burned. Then felt stupid. “Sorry,” he said.
“Gosh,” said Cody. “You really are just realizing all this, aren’t you?”
Once more Todd felt like he was about to cry. How could this be? How could this be? How? Gay? Was he gay?
Bisexual. Maybe I’m bisexual
.
“Todd. Are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I don’t know.”

Chapter 12

 

W
HEN Gabe stopped before the Dove apartment building, he all but groaned at the sight.
Dear God
, he thought,
what’s holding it upright?

He parked his silver Saturn Sky across the street and approached the old brick building. It wasn’t all that easy. He wasn’t exactly dressed for walking through heaps of snow, especially given how little of it had actually been shoveled here. The street was slushy and a mess, the sidewalks barely cleared. He almost fell, and when he swung out his arm, realized he had his briefcase. He hadn’t realized he’d brought it. Habit? Instinct?

The front door of the building was a mess of peeling paint with what looked like a million layers underneath. It opened easily, as did the inner door. No lock? Could anyone just barge in? Gabe paused, looking at the four apartment doors before him. Which one held the building manager? Did the man even live here? Gabe hadn’t even thought about that.

Gabe returned to the small foyer and looked at the mailboxes. Yes. There by the box for 1-A was the stenciled word “Manager.”

He went back in and knocked on the door.
Nothing.
He knocked again.
Still nothing.

Maybe the man was out doing some kind of managing? Or maybe he was locking someone else out of their apartment? Gabe looked around him, noticed a frozen cockroach as big as his thumb in a dark and filthy corner. Gabe shuddered. He hated cockroaches. Thank God the Wilde didn’t have any. Had the manager done Todd a favor by kicking him out?

Gabe sighed. Would he have considered losing his own dingy apartment a favor ten years ago? The answer, of course, was no. Even though he had walked in on his first official boyfriend fucking the bejesus out of some trick Gabe later found out was a local bartender. For a while, he’d been hopelessly in love, and in that time, the apartment had seemed like Camelot to him. A place for him and his lover. His
male
lover. How exciting it had been making house with a man. Shopping together and fixing meals together and eating by candle light. Being naked with him whenever the mood struck them. Making love. Fucking.

At least his ex and his trick were using a condom when they’d cheated.
One more time, Gabe raised his hand and knocked on the manager’s door, this time a little more forcefully.

This time he got an answer.
“What the fuck?” came a bellow from behind the door. “Hello?” Gabe called back.

The door flew open to a sight that made the Wilde’s overly large manager look positively svelte. At least Gabe’s building manager kept himself clean. Wore a nice shirt and slacks or jeans. This man? This man looked like a caricature of the worst of the worst. Hugely fat, a dirty gray sweatshirt stretched over an immense belly. Suspenders. Cheeks and nose fiery red. The signs of an alcoholic? Greasy black hair combed ridiculously over a balding and shiny head. A broken and missing tooth up front, the rest stained by what looked to be cigarettes. Pants half-unzipped. Gross. Disgusting even.

“What the fuck do you want?” the man shouted, foul breath rolling out of him. Then noticing Gabe, probably the way he was