You Are the Reason (19 page)

I was so glad for the cockblock that I allowed Lee to stay where he was.

That’s what I told myself, anyway.

It had nothing to do with the fact that I liked declaring that he was with me.

The show was wonderfully camp. The actors played up the “Pink Queens” as they were known in this version, led by Rizzo, Frenchy and Sandor, who were panting badly over the “T-Bones,” who, in turn, all secretly wanted to bone them.

I forgot about the audience seated around me and laughed like an idiot at the antics on stage. By the end of the show, my cheekbones were hurting. I stood and wolf whistled with the rest of the audience while the actors took their bows, beaming their pleasure at the great show.

The house lights went up, and a crush of people started for the exit. That time, when Lee groped for my hand, I grabbed hold. I didn’t want to lose him in the crowd while we filed out of the theater. They were selling merchandise in the foyer, but we bypassed it and walked out to the street.

“Did you like that?” Lee asked, a huge grin on his face.

When I looked at him, I hardly saw the eyeliner. After spending three hours watching the “Pink Queens” on stage with their overdone makeup, Lee looked positively tame next to them.

“Loved it,” I admitted. I tugged him down the footpath, following the other patrons who’d attended the show. They were all crossing the road and making for a bar called Rudy’s. I’d never been there, but suddenly I was desperate for a pint. “C’mon,” I said and dashed across the road in front of the cars.

Inside was a normal bar—music blaring from a juke box, tall tables for people to gather around, but no chairs. There didn’t seem to be a theme at this bar as so many had. It was simply a place where you could relax and chat. I stepped up to the bar to be served and waited in line behind the others who had recently left the show.

We listened to their chatter for a bit.

“…and oh, my God. When Frenchy french kissed Doody. I nearly died.”

“Nuh-uh,” another disagreed. “Rizzo worrying about the HIV-positive thing instead of pregnancy like in the original. Stroke of genius.”

“Nothing could beat those moves in ‘Greased Lightning,” another chimed in.

“And what was that line in the song? ‘Those dicks will cream’?”

They all roared with laughter and agreed that it was the best line ever.

“Who played the part of Cha-Cha DiGregorio?” one man asked. “She was hot.”

There were some scoffing sounds, and then the disagreement started. “Her? I was too busy watching Kenickie’s arse.”

“Oh, yes.”

“Oh, delish.”

“That Kenickie can give me a hickey any day.”

“What about Danny?”

“I liked Sandor.”

“What about the football coach?” one asked. “He was hot, for an older guy. What was his name?”

There was a pause while they all tried to remember. Then Lee piped up. “Coach Calhoun.”

There were nods all around, and next thing I knew, Lee and I were included in their group. One guy turned and started nabbering on to Lee about hot older guys. I caught the names of “George Clooney” and “Sean Connery.” Then it was finally my turn to order at the bar.

I grabbed us some beers, and we stood around chatting. The group was comprised of twelve people—nine guys and three women—but it fluctuated during the night. Others joined us, some bid good-bye and took off. I was glad to see that several men seemed to be couples, which meant I could relax about being out on a date with Lee.

I fell into conversation with Simon, a real estate agent who worked out in the eastern suburbs. We were discussing the plight of the first-home buyers who couldn’t get a foot in the market, when an older, effeminate man I hadn’t seen earlier came over and slid his arm around Simon’s waist. Simon leaned into the embrace, so I assumed they were partners and carried on listening to his story about a bidding war on a small house.

When he finished the story, the new arrival pushed into the conversation with, “Hi. I’m Parry. How do you do?”

“Davo,” I replied with a nod and a lift of my beer.

“Where are you from Davo? Which suburb?”

“Beaconsfield.”

“Lovely. Would you like to join Simon and me one night for a little ménage?”

Luckily I wasn’t drinking at the time because the beer would’ve gone down all wrong. Of course, I was used to being propositioned, but not in such an open way, in the middle of a public bar, without the guy first asking me if I was gay.

“Ahh….” I searched around frantically for an excuse. “No. But thank you for the offer. I’m with someone.” I nodded my head toward Lee, who was deep in a discussion with two others. A discussion that seemed to involve, to my amusement, a lot of hand waving and some sort of hip wiggling.

“That’s okay,” Parry said with a smile that oozed oil, it was so slick. “Bring him along. I wouldn’t mind a piece of that arse.”

Something happened to me at the completion of that sentence. Something that had never happened before in my life. Something that I didn’t think I was capable of. Something that I wasn’t sure I liked.

My hackles rose, and I became territorial.

I stood taller, my feet planted firmly on the ground to aid my balance. My eyes narrowed. I squinted against the light until all I could see was the man who had insinuated that he would take my belongings, use my property, besmirch my boyfriend. And all in front of me.

I lowered my chin and glared. “You weren’t invited to take a piece of that arse. In fact, I don’t even think I like you looking at that arse. Eyes off.”

Parry’s brow rose dramatically, and he took a step back, almost ducking behind Simon. I was glad to see that Simon stood his ground. In fact, he even smiled and tipped his head to me, as if to apologize for his partner’s rudeness.

Simon turned to look over his shoulder at the cowering man. “Parry, how many times have I told you about this? It will save you having to wash the shit out of your pants once again. Firstly, you should be checking to see if your invited person is receptive to man-on-man action. Then you should ease into the conversation about sharing partners.” He turned back to me. “Just ignore him for another five minutes while he sulks. I assure you, he won’t be going anywhere near your boyfriend.”

It took a lot more effort than I liked to admit to push my resentment toward Parry back down and speak civilly to him. But I did, and conversation resumed. Albeit with a glare from me to the older man. We fell into chatting again. Only not about sexual matters this time. At one stage, Parry disappeared to get a drinks refill, and Simon lowered his voice to me.

“Don’t hold it against him. He’s a slut, I know. Nevertheless he’s a nice slut. He’s a great guy, but he just thinks that monogamy is outdated and only practiced within a marriage. And since Australia is stupid enough not to accept gay marriage, it gives him the green light to play with anyone he wants. He doesn’t understand that gay men can embrace the idea of a relationship that only involves two sexual parties.” He glanced at Lee, who was still rapt in a conversation with the same two people. “Have you guys been together long?”

I licked my lips. Were we even together? Three dates does not make a couple. But I was posting Keep Out signs around him, just in case. “No. Not long,” I answered.

Simon was still smiling at the antics that Lee and his acquaintances were having. “He looks like a sweet guy. You’re very lucky to be with him.”

“Yes.” I felt warmth on my cheeks, which then began to blossom in my chest. Lee was sweet. He was charming. He was fun. He was sexy. He was witty. He was caring.

And he sometimes liked to dress in women’s clothes.

It still didn’t make sense to me, and it still made me uncomfortable. But not to the point where I would leave his side. And so, when he finally waved good-bye to his new friends and joined me where I was chatting with Simon, Parry, and another friend of theirs named Crowley, I happily placed my hand on his lower back and introduced him around. That hand managed to slip down a couple of inches and cop a quick feel. Then it rested casually but proprietorially on Lee’s hip.

The possessive display had Lee all fired up, and we ended up fucking in the back of my van in the parking lot.

I love that van.

F
RIDAY
WE
were invited to dinner at Jake and Patrick’s house. Jake had asked me to babysit the following week, as Patrick had some work-function dinner for them both to attend. To my surprise, I found myself agreeably telling Jake I’d do it.

“Yes. Sure. I can babysit Stinker. Can I bring Lee along for moral support?”

“No problem,” Jake replied affably. “But Patrick and I want to meet him first. Can you guys come to dinner on the Friday before?”

I narrowed my eyes, trying to assess his honesty over the phone. On one hand, I had to agree with his reasoning that the parents of the child should really meet someone who was going to be babysitting. But on the other hand, I knew Jake. He was sneaky. He was up to something.

“Why?”

“So I can meet Lee and check him out.”

“Check him out as a possible pedophile and not allow him near your daughter? Or check him out because you want to ask him rude questions?”

“Me?” Jake cried, all fake effrontery. “Would I do that?”

“Yes,” I immediately responded.

“Hey,” he blustered. “So much for mateship.”

I laughed. Did I want Jake to interrogate Lee? No. But did I want to introduce him to my friends? Yes.

“Fine,” I sighed over the phone. “I’ll bring him to dinner so you can interrogate him.”

“Good.”

W
HEN
I
arrived, Charlotte answered the door, all dressed up in an off-white suit that looked more like it would be worn at a wedding than around the house.

“Dave, come on in. I’ve hardly arrived home myself. There was a luncheon with the governor-general today. Beautiful food, but I was too scared to eat anything in case I spilled it down my jacket.” She laughed gaily. “I heard Lee in the shower and muttering to himself five minutes ago. Why don’t you go on up and find him. I need to get changed and start dinner for me and Howard. Just follow the sounds of the grumbles and clothes being discarded.”

I agreed and started up the stairs. I hadn’t been upstairs before, and I was nervous. The interior of the house was all cream and brown—and plush. My feet sank into the carpet in the hallway.

As Charlotte had said, I could hear the sounds of Lee getting ready by the time I hit the top of the stairs. There was a slam of drawers and some angry words that I didn’t quite catch. With trepidation, I made my way to the door and knocked.

His voice came back. “What, Mum? Is he here already? Dammit. I’m not ready. I told myself I wouldn’t be late this time….”

He trailed off, so I knocked again.

There was the sound of a deep sigh and footsteps. Then the door opened. Lee was dressed in blue boxer shorts and nothing else. Our eyes met. His were shocked, but he was clearly pleased to see me. I smiled and knew that lust was filling my eyes.

“Hi,” I murmured. “I wanted to let you know that yes,
he
is here.” I allowed my eyes to drift down Lee’s pale chest, tracing a line that kept falling until I was staring at his crotch.

“Dave,” he said.

“Davo,” I quickly corrected. “Were you waiting for me?”

He hadn’t moved from the doorway, but my gaze obviously said something my mouth didn’t because he gasped, covered his crotch, and whispered furiously, “We can’t. Besides it will make us late for dinner.”

My stare didn’t waver because I was sure I could see subtle movement under the satin material of his underwear. “I can be quick?” I offered. “And quiet.”

At that, he spun around, which didn’t act as a deterrent to me at all. His butt was as completely alluring as his front. Unfortunately he grabbed some blue jeans that were spread across the beige cover of his bed and briskly stepped into them. I made a sound of disgust.

“Prick tease,” I grumbled.

“Horn dog,” he muttered. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“And coming is what I’m all about,” I said, only half joking.

I lounged against the door as he did up his jeans and headed toward the walk-in closet. From my vantage point, I could see rows of shirts, suit jackets, and trousers. The sight was extremely different from my closet. My wardrobe primarily held three colors—black, white, and blue. You could technically find shades of gray in there as well, but that was really a combination of black and white, so not really a new color at all.

Which was not at all like Lee’s closet, because I could see it held yellows, oranges, pinks, blues, reds, greens…. If I continued to list them all, I would soon be humming, “I Can Sing a Rainbow.”

“Is this okay?”

Lee’s question broke me from me reverie, and I focused on the dark purple shirt he was holding up.

“It’s a bit gay.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. I blame the rainbow song.
Damn.