The Price Of Dick (16 page)

“
Mom and dad and church. Brothers and sisters and their wives and husbands in their suburban homes, picket fences, two car garages and station wagons. Family vacations, scrapbooks and trophies. Everything on display to reaffirm their togetherness, their bond. And they’re taught from tots on up how they should fit inside that bubble. And more importantly, what doesn't fit. It’s apparent he had a very strong voice in his ear that’s been telling him what he should be.”

“
His mother,” I stated.

“
Yes. He probably realized he was gay at a very early age. Make no mistake. From what you tell me, this young man
is
gay. He’s not bi or bi-curious. He’s homosexual. But good old mom has been pumping his head so full of the Catholic creed to go forth, find women, marry, and have babies that he probably has been trying to find ways to rebel. I wouldn’t put it past someone like him to try to seduce a priest just to get even with her.”

I remembered his confession
. “Or a coach?”

“
Pardon?”

“
His football coach in high school. It’s how he made team captain.”

Pat
’s brows laced tightly. “Well that’s an industrious way of rebelling. And a bit messed up too, I might add.”

“
He said from the very beginning I’m the only one he feels comfortable with,” I told him. It had always been the most meaningful compliment he’d ever give me.

“
You’re his refuge. You’re also his dirty little secret, and he’s pulled you into the horrid ongoing game he has to play. He had to reshape your identity to introduce you to the important people in his world. It’s absolutely essential, in his mind, that everything fits the image he has to project. And that includes the image he projects to his associates at work.” He looked at me. “I’m thinking when he offered this vacation to you, he didn’t think he’d win, or he didn’t realize the consequences of what winning would entail if his associates from work would be joining him with their wives and girlfriends on the vacation.”

The heat was fading from my rage.
I sat back in my chair. What anger was left in me seemed to melt like the last bite of ice cream sandwich in my hand. I ate it and licked my fingers.

“
You think I’ve been irrational?” I wanted to know.

He wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and handed it to me.
“I think you’re a very sensitive guy. It’s a fucked up situation. When you involve yourself with someone in the closet, whether it’s friendship or something more, you’re obligated to play by their rules. Whether you want it or not, you’re in there with him. It’s not pretty living in the dark like that. A lot of people have to do it. You just have to prepare yourself for a lot of things that are going to upset you in this... relationship.”

“
What do you mean?”

He crossed his arms,
leaned back in his chair. “Nothing good comes from staying in the closet, for anyone. If your friend doesn’t break free of mommy’s apron strings and stand on his own two feet like a man, then you shouldn’t be surprised by anything that may come down the pike along with his pretending to be heterosexual.

“
That includes him getting engaged, getting married, settling down and having kids. Just like mommy wants. He’ll don the guise of the homophobic, Republican, NRA card-carrying super conservative if it makes mommy happy. And the only way that this illusion he creates will ever be destroyed is the day he’s caught in a park john soliciting an undercover cop for a blowjob.”

I looked at him, stunned.

“He thinks of you as his hiding place, he says. It’s not that you’re someplace he feels safe. It’s because you’re his procurer. You find the men for him he hasn’t got the guts or knowledge to get for himself. That’s why he pretends to be straight for them, too.” He looked at me with what I thought was resignation and shrugged. “For the time being it’s a very beneficial mutual exchange of services because he’s helping you get photographs that have elevated the quality of your work. But I guarantee you, somewhere along the line, he’s gonna have to do what mommy expects of him. And when that happens, he will leave you twisting in the wind.”

I heard Willie
’s admonition in the back of my mind once again.

“
Just don’t fool yourself. A relationship isn’t seeing how many concessions you make for another person. And don’t allow yourself to believe that this is about him. I don’t know anything about him, except what information you’ve given me, upon which to base these assumptions. He could be a real great guy, or he can be a serious sociopath. That doesn’t matter as long as you have to lie to be a part of his life. But you’re focused on him and missing the really important and most interesting part of this. You.”

“
What do you mean?”

“
I’ve seen your work, J.J. You’ve made an impact with what you’ve chosen to do. It’s incredible. And it’s making a loud statement that I think is going to help change the way people look at love. You’ve turned photos of gay love into beautiful, iconic symbols. And honestly,” his smile was broad here. “Some of them look like they could hang in museums. You’re doing something that’s made me proud to have been your mentor and a part of your life. I’m proud that I know you.”

He
’d brought me close to tears, if I had any left in me.

“
And now you’re writing a book. A real book,” he said it like I was accomplishing a fantastic feat. “You have to see this young man for what he is. He’s a muse. Nothing more. He’s bringing beautiful things out of you. But the muse is not the talent. You are. Make no mistake of that.”

The compliment blindsided me. But I noticed my pain had lifted. My anger was in the backseat.

If Dick was my muse, then Pat was my anchor. I was glad we could remain friends. I still needed him very much.

Thanks to Pat, I
'd gathered myself together again, gone home, and got back to work. I wrote. Day and night, nonstop; the words flowed from me so easily I felt possessed. I stole so much truth from the strange and wonderful things that had happened since I’d met my muse that it was almost an autobiography. In odd pauses, I’d still feel the sting of anger over the vacation I’d never have, but then Pat’s words would come back to reassure me that I was being given this time to utilize my talent. I was creating. My world would find balance again.

The weather was nice
, so I slipped on the new red shorts I’d bought and carried myself and laptop to the pool to catch some rays, and to continue working on the novel. The pool was still empty; the college students back at their homes for the summer, so I had the quiet I needed. My company: a couple of senior citizens, a pregnant mom-to-be.

I wrote like my brain was on fire
, and the only way to extinguish it was to let the words out. It was true what Pat said. Creativity shut out destructive thoughts. It was salvation. I felt myself returning to normal as I lost myself in my world of words.

Mike was back in town and called me just as the sun
began waning. I gathered my laptop and towel, headed back to the apartment. My skin tingled with a slight burn. My ear felt hot under the phone. He wanted me to meet him for dinner at the Korean restaurant just around the corner. He had a new boyfriend and wanted to introduce us. It sounded like a great way to end the day.

I showered, threw on some shorts and a loose button down. By this time a trace of
a sunburn was manifesting itself on my skin. I walked the short distance to the restaurant.

Mike and his boyfriend had garnered a window seat in the small storefront establishment and saw me as I walked up. I was greeted with an energetic wave
with a pair of chopsticks. He looked incredible, my little lifeguard-poolboy. He’d gained some serious muscle and had let his black hair grow out to shoulder length. With his slightly aquiline nose and barely slanted eyes, he looked like anime. His new amour seemed average in contrast to Mike's dramatic coloring, but he had his handsome traits, as all young men do. He was taller, leaner than Mike, and had buzz cut blondish hair. If he’d worn fatigues he could have passed for someone newly enlisted in the military. They both wore colorful tie-dyed T-shirts bought from the same store, and that style of shorts with an overabundance of pockets.

Mike was his usual hyper-animated self.
A million stories to tell in a few minutes. It made my brain race just to keep up with his verbal sprints.

They ordered way too much food along with the entree I chose, and decided we should all share. The two of them consumed enough for four men. I
’d no idea where they had room in their bodies. I was done eating fifteen minutes ahead of them. As their appetites tapered, Mike finally brought up the subject of my friend, Dick. I’d hoped not to discuss him at all at this point in time for obvious reasons. Why ruin a nice meal with unpleasant conversation?

“
How’s your
straight
buddy doing?” he asked, putting a weird emphasis on the word straight.

I lied
, “He’s out of town at a conference.”

His chopsticks
needled some stuffing out of an eggroll. He popped it in his mouth. He exchanged a glance with his partner like they shared some secret bit of information.

“
So do you still think he’s really straight like he says?” he asked, his voice edged with a notable skepticism.

Again I found myself in that position of trying not to lie by avoiding the truth.
“Why do you ask?”

The two of them looked at each other again. Now I knew there was something the two of them knew.
Mike scooted forward in his chair and leaned in to talk in a hushed tone. “Dude, what I’m gonna tell you is strictly between us, all right?”

That is never a good beginning to a discussion, but I agreed.

“Okay so between you and me, I’m telling you that your Dick friend is one creepy ass dude. He started calling me right after I left for college. At first I just thought it was because he wanted to be my friend and he liked me. I’d get calls every day and he’d talk like I was his bestest buddy. I didn’t mind because, you know, I thought the guy was hotter than shit. Who doesn’t want a dude who only fucks girls to think you’re hot, too? So I was flattered.”

“
He did seem to get along with you,” I said.

His hand worked
in a nervous tick over the pocket of his shirt. I could see the outline of his cell phone tucked in it. “So for a while he’s like, how’s college? What’s new? What courses are you taking? Do you have a boyfriend yet? Are you getting laid? How is the party life? Bull shit stuff. No big deal.”

Inwardly, I was surprised. Dick had never mentioned Mike at all in the past few months
since he'd left for school. I didn’t know he had his phone number. I hadn’t given it to him. It seemed strange. All news to me.

“
Then he started to get a little weird. And then a lot weird. I mean, that is, if he’s really a straight guy who digs chicks and has had nothing but girlfriends.” He reached into his pocket and took out the phone. He began tinkering with it as he jabbered on. “I’ve always had doubts about anybody being totally straight to begin with, but the way he just kept harping on it was like, you know, methinks he protests... doth...” he got lost on the quote.

I helped him out
, “Methinks he doth protest too much.”

He pointed at me with the gun
hand gesture. “Exactamundo!”

He laid his phone in front of me, spun it around so I could see the screen. I quickly wiped up the spilled sweet sour sauce on the table that he
’d almost laid the phone in with a napkin.

“
What am I looking at?” I wondered, peering down at the phone.

He hit a small bar on the surface to demonstrate how to scroll the typed words on the screen. I was looking at a bunch of text messages.

“It’s my belief,” Mike said, "that straight dudes don’t sext gay dudes. But that’s what he started doing.” He pointed at the small screen on the phone and scrolled it for me. “Read what he was sending me. I started getting these one night just out of the clear blue. I thought he had like drunk texted me thinking I was one of his girls. But nope... lookee here,” he pointed to a typed line. “He knew who he was talking to and he was doing it on purpose.”

I read and scrolled through the messages. There were numerous texts.
Too many to count. And all of them were pointedly sexual and exceedingly graphic. Some read: “Have you had a teacher suck your dick yet?” “What’s college jock ass like there?” “You should have a three-way. You’d look great as a spit-roast.”

“
I tried to tell him I had a new boyfriend, thinking maybe he would slack off on the private perv act, but then he started talking about getting a hotel room when I got back and having a little orgy get-together if I wanted to bring my guy and some friends. Like I would do that to a new boyfriend.” He made a face of disgust. “But he just kept on sending me this crap and asking me if we could hook up when I got back, even if I didn’t want my boyfriend involved. The dude just doesn’t get a clue!”

The one thing that was clear in Dick
’s texts to Mike was that he was persistent. He believed he’d prevail through sheer tenacity. Mike took the phone back, punched another button, scrolled and handed it back to me.

“When that didn’t work, this is what I started to get from him. Selfies of him masturbating at work in his office. I was getting those from him while I was in class. I had to turn my phone off to keep my professor and classmates from seeing these things pop up.”

I flipped through photo after photo of Dick jacking off. There was no doubt whose cock it was. I
’d seen it enough times. This was messed-up behavior by anyone’s standards.

The weird tale went on:
“He kept asking me to jerk off and send him pictures; to have phone sex with him.” He leaned closer to me across the table. “You see what I’m saying about this bullshit he’s trying to sell us about being straight? What straight guy asks for pics of you jerking?”

I shook my head. I had no way of putting a spin on it.
“I don’t know what’s going on with him,” I admitted. It was the truth.

“
Okay, now this is where it starts to get real strange.” Mike’s face was stony. “He started asking me about my folks. All kinds of questions. I got totally freaked out by it. He already knew their names and where they lived. I never told him their names. So every time he brought them up I tried to change the subject. Finally, I quit answering his calls. Then he started sending me more texts. He somehow got the names and addresses of where they worked, and then he wanted me to introduce him to them so he could do business with them.”

The hairs on my neck stood up
at that bit of information as well. I could understand what Mike was experiencing. Dick wasn’t just being weird. He was invading his privacy.

“
I mean, how would I explain this guy to my folks? Oh dad and mum here’s a guy I let fuck me in a photo shoot who’s harassing me to convince you to invest with him.”

Eventually, w
e did end dinner on a pleasant note. We’d get together next time he was in town and he’d email his new cell phone number when he got it...as long as I didn’t share it. In other words, he was done with Dick.