Foxe Hunt (9 page)

Everyone stared wordlessly at one another for a moment, before Keith broke the silence. “Well I guess I should go. You and your…friend…seem to be busy.”

Philip waved his arms. “Oh no! I was just going. It’s late. You stay.”

“No, maybe I shouldn’t—”

“Look, Keith. I’m sure Skyler would prefer your company—”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, yes. Must be off. Thanks for the wine, Skyler.” He passed Keith and behind his back made a “call me” gesture to Skyler before he was gone.

Skyler watched him depart and slowly closed the door. He turned and smiled wanly. “That was Philip.”

“So I gathered. Sorry to interrupt what was evidently an intimate moment.”

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65

There was that tone again that so irked Skyler. “Well, it wasn’t an ‘intimate’ moment. We were just watching TV.”

“In the dark.”

“It’s
my place
,” he said, voice getting a bit louder. “I like watching TV in the dark.”

“Far be it from me to tell you how to watch TV in your own place. I just thought you said you needed to be there for a friend.

If you’re seeing other people then I’d appreciate a heads up, that’s all.”

“Philip is not other people. He’s one of my best friends. And he
was
just keeping me company in case
Jef ,
my friend in
need
, called. Which he didn’t. So chill.”

Keith’s lips were pressed tightly into a thin line. “I see. Sorry.

Maybe I should go.”

“Maybe you should.”

Keith gave Skyler what he could only describe as a hurt-puppy-dog face. But it didn’t matter. Skyler was royally pissed off. This jealous attitude was one thing that did
not
work for him.

He went to the door and pulled it open. With shoulders slumped, Keith passed over the threshold. He stopped in the doorway and turned. “See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Right.” He made sure he didn’t slam it in Keith’s face but he closed it with a certain flourish and threw the deadbolt.

He listened as Keith thumped down the stairs and seethed, his back to the door. “Couldn’t commit, huh?
That’s
my problem?

I think Keith Fletcher has far more problems than I do.”

§ § §

The next day, Skyler studiously avoided anyone that even remotely looked like Keith Fletcher, including being more than unusually rude to Ben Fontana, the art teacher. He was tall and broad-shouldered, too, except he had a rather dumb sheepdog aura about him.

Skyler scrambled to his classroom through the throng of students after break, waving his hello’s to those who shouted
66 Haley Walsh

greetings to him.

Sitting at the computer, he checked the emails and found one with the subject line “Sorry again for being an a-hole.” Checking the source he saw it came from kfletcher.

Skyler sighed and opened it.

Skyler,

I’m sorry about last night. I don’t know why I was acting that way. It
certainly was uncalled for. Please accept my apology here and in person. I
have to run the boys through practice all afternoon, but I could get away for
a few minutes. Would you meet me at the boy’s locker room after 3 today?

Please?

Keith

Well, he supposed it was the polite thing to do. He’d gotten a call at lunchtime from Philip asking how it went last night after he left and Skyler told him.

“I never thought I’d say this, but don’t be too hard on the guy,” Philip had said.

“He was being a complete jerk. Jealousy is not my thing. If he can’t listen to me when I’m telling him something—”

“There’s those walls again.”

“What walls?”

“Those commitment walls. The least little excuse and they’re up again. I’m telling you, Skyler. Don’t fuck it up!”

“
Goodbye
, Philip!”

He’d hung up abruptly on his friend and didn’t feel the least bit guilty about it. Relationships were too complicated. Why shouldn’t he find excuses to get out of them?

But thinking of Keith, how sweet he was in bringing those flowers, taking him to dinner, their conversation that never had a lull until, it felt right to just
be
with him without saying a word.

Wasn’t that worth fighting for? Is that what Philip meant? He supposed he’d find out at three o’clock.

The rest of the afternoon dragged. When it got to the last Foxe hunt
67

class of the day, Skyler felt a sense of relief wash over him. The class had started reading
The Great Gatsby
and though Skyler was supposed to be discussing it, he found himself getting distracted.

Someone tall with dark hair would walk by the windows and his eyes would snap to the corridor, zipping away again when it turned out to be a teen. This was getting ridiculous. He was watching the clock just as much as his students.

When the clock hands hit two-fifty, the bell rang and the students did not wait for any formal dismissal in order to rise from their desks and collect their things. Amber tried to get Skyler into a conversation about the Daisy Buchanan character, but Heather pulled her friend away, smiling back at Skyler with her black painted lips as if to say to him “You’re welcome.”

Skyler took his time. He scanned the emails to see if he needed to reply to anything, shut down the computer, and stuffed homework assignments into his satchel. He didn’t know what he was going to say to Keith as he walked slowly through the emptying corridors and down the stairwell. He’d be polite and listen to what the man had to say. That was the very least he could do. But he’d seen Keith’s temper and once you added jealousy into the mix it made for a losing combination.

It always amazed Skyler how quickly the school emptied after the last bell. Of course there were still many stragglers. Some of them were in band, some in the school play and were headed to the auditorium for rehearsals, and some were in sports, mostly football. The season was over but the team still had to meet for exercising and, he supposed, strategy sessions and practice.

Passing the field as he walked, Skyler could see the team doing laps. He thought he could just make out number forty-nine, Alex Ryan, making his way around the far side of the oval. He searched the bleachers and sure enough, Rick Flores lounged across two rows, pretending to read his homework. These were heady days for those two. Their coming out, the first flush of love. How would it turn out for them? Could they overcome the obstacles of homophobia? They both had two more years of high school.

Rick might go to college. He was certainly smart enough. Alex
68 Haley Walsh

on the other hand wasn’t likely to go. If he only applied himself, he could surely go to community college and then maybe get the confidence to go on to a university. It was so hard when one didn’t have the support at home, something Skyler suspected of Alex’s family. He wondered what Alex’s aspirations were and decided he’d try to get a chance to talk to the boy’s guidance counselor.

He reached the boys’ gym, with its art deco entrance arch and clerestory windows. Up the brick-red-painted steps and he was inside. There were a few lights on at the far end of the locker room, a towel lying on the floor near one of the benches, but no one else. Except.

Up the metal catwalk staircase to Coach Carson’s office, Skyler saw the light on and Carson, Ed Fallows, and Mac Simpson, two of the assistant coaches, speaking loudly.

Mac was a broad beefy guy with no neck and a shaved head.

Either some of the kids took to emulating his haircut or half the football team were really skinheads. There were rumors, of course, but Skyler didn’t like to believe it, even though they gave every indication of acting just like goosesteppers.

Ed, on the other hand, was a tall man, too thin for his bones which stuck out in lumps at his knees, shoulders, and elbows. His dark hair was cropped short to his round head. It was strange that he had a sallow complexion since he spent a lot of time outdoors.

But right now, his sallow face was burnished red. Carson kept telling him to calm down, that everything would be fine. Uh oh.

Was the district making budget cuts? Also being at the bottom of the food chain at the school, Skyler worried that he could get the ax, though he knew he had the support of Mr. Sherman and most of the staff. They all seemed to like him, especially the secretaries. They were the ones who made sure all the paperwork was in, after all. But last hired, first fired.

Mac stood by, saying nothing. His arms were firmly folded over his broad chest, crushing the whistle hanging from a lanyard around his neck.

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Skyler stepped back into the shadows. The situation didn’t look as if Carson would want company right now, especially Skyler’s. They didn’t get along, what with Carson’s general animosity toward Skyler. The coach seemed to know that he was gay and liked to taunt him about it with sly asides attempting to humiliate Skyler at every turn.

Carson managed to get Ed settled down and they continued to talk quietly for a time in a low tone Skyler couldn’t decipher.

The scenario made him think about poor Julia and who it might have been that shoved her down the math building stairwell.

Skyler had been certain it was Carson but Sidney had maintained he had had an alibi. But was it ironclad?

And what about Ed? Wasn’t he one of “Carson’s flunkies,”

the very type Julia had warned Skyler about? Did
he
have an alibi?

And what about Mac, Mr. Skinhead? Did he have a penchant for mayhem, as well?

And of course, she had warned him about Keith, too.

The light switched off suddenly. Ed opened the door to the glass office and Carson, Mac, and Ed headed down the metal steps. Panicked, Skyler looked around for a hiding place and finally had to settle for ducking into the showers behind the tiled wall. It was damp and smelled of mildew and feet. Just the smell of it sent him into unwilling memories of his days in gym class. His eyes moved unbidden to his old locker. Number 323.

Three separate times he had been stuffed in there wearing only his underwear. Not a pretty thing when the coach had to get him out and blamed Skyler for it!

“What are you doing in the shower?”

Skyler’s heart jumped into his throat and he spun around, facing Keith. Embarrassment took over and he felt his face warm as he stepped out. “You know, they could stand to re-grout that,”

he muttered, trying to recover his lost dignity.

Keith looked at him steadily and when Skyler gazed up into those forlorn eyes all his arguments for putting Keith in his place melted away. The man was really too good-looking for himself.

70 Haley Walsh

“I’m here,” he managed to say.

Keith smiled warmly. “Thanks for coming. I thought you might not show. I got a little carried away at your place the other night. I’m sorry. Really. I just saw this other guy there and I thought maybe you ditched me for him and I…well. I guess I was a little…jealous.” He grimaced. “That’s not a very attractive trait, I know. But I can’t help it. When I’m really interested in someone that’s how I get. This wasn’t just a hook-up to me, you know?”

“I know. It wasn’t to me either. But I’m not used to this. I’m more used to hooking up.”

“So I gathered.” Keith worried the handle of his gym bag.

He seemed anxious, a new look for the normally confident man.

“Look, Skyler, I have to be here for a few more hours, but could we do something tonight? I want to see you.”

His gaze was unnervingly intent on Skyler’s. It was hard to look away. And when all was said and done, Skyler didn’t want to. “I want to see you, too,” he heard himself say quietly. He laughed, suddenly finding all his earlier intentions flying out the window. “Come over when you’re done. I’ll cook dinner. A quiet evening at home. We can talk.”

Keith’s smile was positively radiant. “A home-cooked meal?

Great! I can be there around seven.”

Skyler left the locker room feeling light on his feet. He swung his satchel and if he weren’t afraid of someone seeing him, he would have kicked up his heels.

§ § §

At his apartment, Skyler chopped the peeled blood oranges into small pieces and mixed them with red onions, strips of red bell pepper, and balsamic vinegar. The zucchini was quartered into bite-sized pieces and steaming on the stove, and the sea bass was broiling nicely, almost ready to come out.

He had just put the butter in a heated pan when the doorbell rang. Flinging open the door he smiled on seeing Keith standing there.

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Before he could even think about it, he reached up to the taller man and kissed him on the lips. Keith was almost as surprised as Skyler. Feeling himself blush at his audacity, Skyler gestured for the man to come in. He poured him some white wine, and Keith sat on one of the stools at the breakfast bar, watching Skyler in the kitchen.

“You really can cook, can’t you?”

Skyler preened. He had changed into the tightest jeans he had, with his favorite champagne-colored silk T-shirt. He slung a towel over his shoulder. “I do like to. Not as much fun cooking for one, though.”

Keith glanced at the small dining table where they had shared breakfast last weekend. Skyler had rearranged the tropical bouquet Keith had given him into a shorter and smaller decoration between two squat candles. The table was set with his Mikasa Global china.

“This is just spur of the moment cooking?” asked Keith, clearly a little taken aback.

“Well, yes. I was going to make the sea bass this way anyway.

And there was enough for two. I hope you like fish.”

“I think I’d like anything you made.”

He warmed at that. “Do you cook?”

“I can throw a steak on the barbecue and make grilled cheese sandwiches. That is the extent of my gourmet abilities. But I enjoy good food.”

“Well, I hope you like this.”

The fish was ready and he placed a filet on each bed of zucchini. Finally, he spooned some of the blood orange relish on top and brought it to the table. “Dinner is served.”