I could tell he was running a Western movie in his mind. He was a gun-totin’ John Wayne cowboy, his arms held akimbo, ready to draw imaginary guns and start shootin' up the place as he strode up the block. As he got closer, his gaze still on me, he started rolling up his sleeves . . .

Heat waves shimmered on the metal roof of the band stand in the center of Old Town Plaza as I stepped out of my shop on the southeast corner. I scanned the square. The only person out in the heat was one of the priests watering some flowers in front of the rectory next to the centuries old adobe Catholic Church. I wondered if he was naked under his black cassock. I damned well would have been.

The relentless late August sun scorched the browning sycamores and cottonwoods surrounding the bandstand. The grass had long ago given up trying to be green. Even though the daily sprinkler truck had wet the street down just two hours ago, it was dry and dusty again.

In a more sensible world it would be siesta time. But in today’s fast-moving gringo world where we all strive for that ultimate dollar, all the shops were open, the proprietors hidden away in the cool, dark depths, hoping for that one tourist crazy enough to brave this heat to spend their money. There were no tourists out today. Later, in the cool evening, the square would be filled with them mixed with locals enjoying the festive atmosphere of Old Town Albuquerque.

It only got this hot for a few weeks each year. Heat here in the mile-high desert city was dry, not like the humid swelter of Houston or New York City that literally beats you into the ground. The dry heat didn’t bother me. Having been born and raised in it, I had long ago learned to ignore it. In the shade it was only about ninety-four degrees. In another hour it would probably hit a hundred. Then, even I would stay inside.

I leaned hipshot against a porch post, weight on one foot, fingers tucked into my Levi pockets, watching the heat shimmers and daydreaming about a particular redhead I’d been secretly in love with since high school. I’d never gotten him out of my system; all these years later I was still in love. He was married – well, divorced now - with three teenage kids. Still, he was my best and closest friend. I knew nothing would ever come of it, but that didn’t make me want him any less.

I noticed a man come out of a shop at the far end of the block. His white dress shirt and black slacks were a sharp contrast to the dun color of the adobe buildings. He stopped at the edge of the boardwalk and looked around. His gaze paused on me and then passed me once again as he studied the whole Square. When his gaze came back the third time, I could see, even from that distance, the sunlight sparkle on his white teeth when he smiled.

He stepped off the boardwalk into the unpaved street. As he strode toward me, he grinned, ignoring how his highly polished Italian shoes turned from glossy black to dull and dusty, and that the bottoms of his sharply creased black slacks were also covered in dust. His stride was long as he advanced on me, his eyes never wavering. Damn, he was one sexy dude.

I could tell he was running a Western movie in his mind. He was a gun-totin’ John Wayne cowboy, his arms held akimbo, ready to draw imaginary guns and start shootin' up the place as he strode up the block. As he got closer, his gaze still on me, he started rolling up his sleeves, and by the time he reached the steps below me he’d unbuttoned the front of his shirt down to his navel, exposing his hairy chest.

I gulped as he planted his right foot on the bottom step. He hooked his thumbs into his belt, his forefingers aimed at his crotch. “Howdy, there, Handsome,” he drawled with a New Jersey accent that broke my trance.

I gave him a lopsided smirk and chuckled. “Howdy, yourself.” I pushed off the post and turned toward the door. “Come on in, out of the heat.”

He climbed the steps, stomping his feet, the dust flying off his shoes, then turned away, bent over, and dusted each pant leg with both hands. I admired his tight rear end, wondering if he had purposefully turned his back toward me just to give me a show.

He gave me his shit-eatin’ grin again as he straightened to follow me inside. I walked through the store to the desk and propped my butt against the edge of it, then crossed my ankles, knowing that would accentuate the bulge in my 501s. I had folded my arms across my chest, and hooked a thumb discreetly in each arm pit, pulling my Western plaid shirt open to expose my furry chest.

He stopped just inside the door, glancing around at the merchandise. After wiping the sweat and dust off his forehead with a white handkerchief, he grinned again as he took in the view I was giving him, then went back to checking out my shop.

A gourmet cooking shop was a new thing back in those days before the department stores all developed them. At the rear of the store was a full-fledged kitchen where I, or a guest chef, could hold demonstrations or classes during the cool months. It helped to bring in the locals as well as the tourists. They all get a kick out of a tall, lanky cowboy like me wearing my sweat-stained old cowboy hat and an apron.

“My name is Rich,” he said, casual like.

“It’s nice to meet you, Rich.”

“Sweet shop. Something I’d expect to find on Fifth Ave, not in Hicksville.”

I couldn’t take offence at the back-handed compliment since it was accompanied by that ever present grin, but I couldn’t just let it go, either. “Well, we’ve managed to pick up a bit of civilizin’ since the Injin Wars,” I drawled.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to offend, it’s just the unpaved streets and wooden sidewalks ...  You know what I mean?”

“I get you. We keep the dirt because that’s what you turistas expect. Can’t disappoint the trade, now, can we?”

“What I’ve seen so far hasn’t been the least bit disappointing.” Of course that was said with a big grin as his eyes wandered up and down my torso. I wiggled my foot to cover my anticipation. The movement caught his attention.

“Nice boots. I’ve always wondered how you get your foot into something like that.”

I shrugged. “You just put a sock on it and stick it in.”

He caught the double entendre and his grin widened. He wandered around the shop, examining a bain marie and then some heavy tin-lined copper pots. Next he wandered though the section of porcelain items and picked up a coeur de crème mold, placed it over his heart and looked at me. I wondered what the message was. Did he have a heart full of holes like the mold or maybe his heart was as rich as a cream dessert? Or possibly it was hard as the porcelain mold, or as fragile?

When he got to the foods section he held up a bundle of Italian-made dried linguine.

“Do you cook Italian?” he asked.

“I do a fair job of it. At least Mrs. Hazan gave me a passing grade when I took her course.”

“Here or Italy?”

“I cook here.”

“No, did you take her course here in the USA or in Italy?”

“Oh, actually it was right here in my shop.”

“You’re joking. She taught a class here in New Mexico?”

“And what’s wrong with that?” I challenged.

“It’s not even properly part of the States.”

“You’re yankin’ my chain again, aren’t you?” I arched an eyebrow and shot a menacing look at him.

He looked at me innocently with big brown eyes as he asked, “You mean I’m not really in a foreign country?”

“I hope you have your passport on you because I’m going to arrest you for being an illegal alien if you don’t,” I growled and pulled my wallet out of my rear pocket, flipping it open to flash my Deputy U.S. Marshal badge.

I’d swear he blanched as he stepped closer to examine the badge. When he saw the U.S. at the top of it, the grin returned to his face. I looked back at him with a smirk.

“You had me going for a moment there.”

I winked. He ducked his head and continued examining the merchandise while frequently glancing at me. Without looking up, he asked, “Is it illegal to attempt to connect with a U.S. Marshal?”

“Depends on what you mean by ‘connect with’ I suppose.”

He didn’t bother to explain. He examined a few more items before asking another question.

“Are you married?”

I raised an eyebrow at him as he looked up at me. I gave him a quick shake of my head.

“Involved?” he asked as he examined a bottle of Greek Olive Salata.

“Let’s bypass the twenty questions. I am as interested in you as you are in me. There’s a fine little Mexican restaurant within walking distance of my house. And my house is two blocks from here. My help will be here in less than forty-five minutes. May I offer you a soft drink or a brew while we wait?”

His expression lit up. His grin got bigger still.

“I’ve got Lone Star or Coors, so it’s Texas or Colorado.”

“Had a Coors. It’s like drinking piss.”

I grinned. “And you would know about that?” I asked.

“Let me try one of your Lone Stars,” he pointedly ignored my query.

“A man after my own taste,” I said and stepped around the desk into the store room. I grabbed two longnecks out of the fridge, turned and walked right into his arms. His lips met mine. We did a bit of exploring; he did a bit more than me since my hands held the two bottles of beer.

The old fashioned spring-loaded doorbell jangled. I handed him the beers and stepped out into the store to greet the three women who had come in and welcome them even though one of them was a local who really raised my hackles. She was a born-again fundamentalist who apparently didn't believe in Jesus' teachings. She worked for my ex, who was the head of investigating welfare eligibility. How she got that job, only her god knows. She didn’t approve of people like me who made no bones about sexual preference, and she’d let my ex know it in no uncertain terms. She commenced to do a guided tour around my shop. I ignored her and turned back to Rich just as the bell jangled again.

It was the mayor’s wife. Isabel was one of my favorite customers. She was a short, dumpy middle-aged matron. She was filthy rich, yet you would never know it by the way she dressed sometimes … like now.

She’d apparently been gardening when she remembered that she had to buy a gift. Her hair was loosely pinned on top of her head, a few damp strands clinging to her neck. Her long-sleeved white blouse had dried mud smeared down the front. She also had mud on a cheek and both forearms below the rolled-up sleeves. It was easy to see where the tops of her gardening gloves had reached. Without even dusting the dirt off her knees, she had obviously jumped into her little Jaguar convertible and raced over to my shop to buy this important gift.

“Oh good, Shay, I was I afraid I would have missed you. You must save me. I have to have the perfect gift for a wedding shower. The young lady doesn’t know the first thing about cooking, so it needs to be something basic.” She caught sight of Rich standing behind me. “Oh, hello,” she said softly.

“I’ve got the perfect thing for you, Issy. But first, let me introduce my friend. Issy this is Rich, Rich this is Issy.”

Rich turned on a thousand-watt smile that won her heart as he took her hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, Ma’am,” he said. I noticed he’d discreetly buttoned his shirt.

“Oh my, you are a gentleman. It’s nice to meet you, too,” she responded, and turned to me. “You do know how to pick them, Shay. I’d say he’s a keeper.”

I blushed and looked at Rich who was just as red faced as me. Not many people can do that to me, but Issy is one and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s that we’ve been friends forever - like since grade school - so she knows which buttons to push.

At that moment, I heard the social worker bitch saying something about how all Mexican pottery had lead in the glaze and you couldn’t use it for food. I glanced across the room. She was holding a covered onion soup bowl, stoneware, from Tonala, Jalisco. Everyone knows that stoneware is fired at such a high temperature any lead in the glaze evaporates. I was too far away to correct her. I thought at her, projecting hard, “Drop it, Bitch.”

I never thought I could cause someone to do something with just a thought. Her hand released the bowl, letting it crash to the floor and shatter. I excused myself to Issy and Rich and hurried over. The three women had squatted and were picking up pieces of broken pottery. “Please leave it. I don’t want you cutting yourselves.”

They stood up, each with pieces in their hands. I held out mine to take the pieces from them.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what made me do that,” the bitch said.

“Don’t worry about it, Janet. Accidents happen. It’s no big deal,” I told her, playing the gracious shopkeeper but feeling a lot of guilt over causing the incident, even if it was aimed at someone I disliked.

“Well, I broke it. I must be allowed to pay for it,” she said.

“No, no, really, don’t worry about it.”

One of her friends popped up, “Well, I guess we’ll have to buy something, then.”

I grinned. “Now, that is something that I can’t object to.”

“Excuse me,” the other woman said. “Isn’t this stoneware?” She pointed at the pieces in my hands.

“Why yes, it is.”

She turned to Miz Social Worker. “Janet, stoneware is fired at such a high temperature that if there was any lead in the glaze, it would turn to a gas and disappear. Isn’t that right, Mr. Warren?”

I wanted to kiss her cheek in gratitude. “Yes, that is correct. You’re very knowledgeable.”

“I’m a hobby ceramicist,” she said, smiling.

“Oh, cool!” I replied, and turned toward the desk so that Janet wouldn't see my self-satisfied smirk.

Meanwhile, Rich and Issy were getting along like a house afire. He had helped her decide to get one of the new Cuisinart food processors that had recently come on the American market. He had it half wrapped by the time I’d dumped the shards into the waste basket.

“Let me finish that,” I said.

“I’ve got it; you write it up and take care of payment."

“My, you two make a good team. You’re not looking for a job are you, Rich?” Issy asked.

“No, I don’t think this place would pay more than I make in my present job.”

“And what is that?” she asked.

“I’m a medical doctor doing research on aging for one of the pharmaceutical companies.”

“Oh, Shay, you’ve got to keep this one for sure - he’s a medical doctor.” She winked at Rich.

I couldn’t help teasing him by bouncing my eyebrows suggestively at him. I swear he blushed again. Damn, there's something so sexy about a masculine man who can blush.

Rich finished doing a fabulous wrapping job on Issy’s gift while I wrote up the sale and put it on her American Express. All the while Issy was talking to Rich.

“I want you to know that I really appreciate how you just accepted my appearance. I know I look like I live on the street. But you and Shay just treat me like I have all the money in the world.”

I interrupted with an aside. “Don’t let her kid you, Rich, she does have all the money in the world.”

“I’m being serious here, Shay, so stop the smart remarks. Anyway, Rich, my husband and I flew into New York a while back. I always travel very plain and comfortable. I wanted to pick up a new piece of jewelry for the whingding we were going to be attending, so I dropped into Tiffany’s without changing. Well, the staff completely ignored me except to watch me like I was going to try stealing something. Even when I asked for help, I was snubbed.

“I left there, went back to the Waldorf and dressed up in my finest, put on all my diamonds and marched right back into Tiffany’s. Needless to say, the staff was all over me. I asked to see the manager. When he came out I said to him in a voice loud enough for all the employees and customers to hear, “I came in here, not an hour ago, dressed like a common person. Except for being closely watched so I wouldn’t steal anything, I was completely ignored. Now everyone wants to be my personal servant. I just want to say one thing. Everyone should be treated with courtesy and respect when they come through your doors. And since they aren’t, you can just all fuck off because I'm going down the street to Harry Winston’s. They are always polite and helpful.” I marched out the door and have never gone back in there. There is just no reason for that kind of rudeness. That’s why I enjoy coming into Shay’s. The first time I came in here I looked worse than I do now. Don’t say it - I know I look like I slept in a cardboard box last night. And Shay treated me like royalty even though he didn’t know me from Eve. I appreciate that.”

I didn’t wreck her little story by informing Rich that Issy and I had been friends practically since we were in diapers.

After Issy had taken her wrapped gift and left, the couple with Janet wanted to purchase a big covered serving bowl from the Tonala Collection. I told them that in appreciation of their purchase I would give them a courtesy discount, and asked them to please come back when they were again in town. They left with smiles on their faces and even Janet looked pleasant as she went out the door.

“You are good at public relations,” Rich said as he handed me the untouched bottle of beer.

“That’s one of my lesser talents.” I guzzled half the bottle's contents thinking about what I had done to Janet, but when he grinned suggestively, I forgot all about her and leered back at him.

A few minutes later Rich had me backed up against the refrigerator door telling me what he was going to do to me once I got him home. I saw Joy let herself in through the back door. She turned and saw us and looked exasperated.

“Hi, Joy,” I said meekly, and waved.

Rich must have thought I was pulling a fast one; he continued to nuzzle my neck and mutter about the obscene doings he was planning. Joy tapped him on the back and said, “Excuse me for one moment, please, while I put my food in the fridge.”

Rich jumped back, aghast. I laughed, but Joy ignored his response. Once her food was put up, she turned on me. “Mr. Warren,” she said. Joy and I have always been on a first-name basis so I knew she was upset. “If you walked in on me, like I just found you, I would imagine you would be considering firing me. Right?”

She had a valid point.

“Unfortunately, I can’t fire you," she continued. "And threatening to quit would be counterproductive to my income. So what do you suggest I do?”

Rich butted in. “Excuse me, Miss, may I inject a thought here?” Obviously he had no idea what he’d just done. Joy turned on him.

“You listen to me well, Mr. Sex On Two Legs. I don’t care how horny you are or what you’d like to do to my boss after you get him home. Your behavior in my store is completely inappropriate. So save your injections for when you get Shay behind closed doors.” She paused, then added, “Pun intended.”

She turned and glared at me and then closed her eyes a moment. When she opened them she smiled. “Now get the hell out of here, Shay. Go enjoy what Mr. Sex was suggesting. You lucky bastard.”

She started straightening the mess I’d left on the desk. Unprepared for her complete turnaround, neither Rich nor I moved. She glanced up and frowned. “What? You want some more verbal abuse? Go on, get out of here.” We scurried for the door. As we left Rich asked, loud enough for her to hear, “Are you sure she’s not a nurse?”

Instead of heading for the restaurant, I took Rich directly home. Once we got the door closed behind us, we commenced to do everything Rich had promised and an amazing amount more. We were … uh … quite compatible. When we’d exhausted ourselves, we fell asleep in each other’s arms.

I awoke a little later and studied Rich in the dimming light. Such a handsome man, and to think he’d literally walked into my arms. I summed up what little I knew about him. He’s a doctor doing research here. He has a New Jersey accent. He’s a fantastic lover and his name is Rich. I didn’t even know his last name. ‘Well, I’ll learn all about him at dinner,’ I thought. I drifted back to sleep.

A finger trailing through the hair on my chest and belly woke me up. I opened my eyes and looked into his. He smiled and kissed me. “I’ve got to get moving, Shay. I have a dinner date with some of the hospital staff that I’m working with.”

“Oh,” was the only response I could come up with.

He slid out of bed and started dressing. “I’ll shower back at the hotel.”

I simply nodded.

Once he was dressed, he leaned down and gave me a tongue-filled kiss. I reciprocated. When he broke it and straightened up, he smiled. “Damn, you are not only handsome, you’re the best.” 

“You need a ride back to the Square?”

He shook his head. “Nah, my car’s parked just down the street. We passed it coming here. Listen, I’ll give you a call when I’m back in town.”

“When are you leaving?” I asked.

“Six tomorrow morning. I fly to Denver and then back to NYC tomorrow night. I’ll be back in a month.” He leaned down again, gave me a quick peck on the lips, and left.

I felt used, just an afternoon’s dalliance. Fuck, what is the matter with me? I’m thirty-eight goddamned years old. One would think that I’d stop looking for love from every man I went to bed with.

I got up and showered. Having decided there was no future in sticking around the house I headed for Helena’s, the bar and restaurant just off the plaza where a lot of the locals hang out. I hadn’t been there in a week or so. Maybe I’d run into someone to have dinner with, although it was early … wasn’t even seven yet. I hate eating alone. I hate sleeping alone. Sheesh. I hate being alone.

I stepped into the dim bar and let my eyes adjust as I looked around. I nodded to several different people before I saw Tom Tooley sitting at the far end of the bar nursing a beer. He saw me about the same time and his whole countenance lit up. Tooley’s a bit shorter than me, and maybe a little more slim, with a mop of dark auburn hair, fair complexion, startling blue eyes and a constant smile. He’s been my best friend since our freshman year in high school. But he’s straight, so I keep my hands off. I sidled in next to him and said howdy. He threw an arm around my neck and kissed my cheek. I didn’t reciprocate, but I did close my eyes and cherish it. He hadn’t done that since graduation night some twenty-odd years ago.

“Damn, Shay, I just don’t get to see enough of you,” he said.

He must have had a few beers to loosen up this much. Usually he doesn’t touch me. He lives less than five blocks from me, but I don’t often seek him out. With his family and all, I don’t want to interfere. “Is that my fault?” I asked him.

“Of course it is.” He leaned into me and put an arm around my neck. Now I knew he’d been drinking.

“Have you had dinner?” I asked, thinking that getting some food into him would sober him up some.

“Nope. Don’t like eating by myself.”

“Wanna join me?”

“Damn, Shay, you do ask some stupid questions,” he said and tightened his arm around my neck.

I grinned at him. “Your ass glued to that stool?” I asked.

One would have thought it was greased the way he slid off onto his feet.

“Come on, whatcha waiting for?” he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the dining room. Yup, he’d definitely had a few. Sober, he would never have taken me by the hand in public. He obviously didn’t know what his touch was doing to me.

It’s always been that way with me, taking whatever little bit of intimacy Tooley would give me, thankful to have him for my friend and always wishing it could be more.

We were quickly seated in one of the high-backed booths. Tooley was looking over the menu. I was looking at him, wondering what was going on. Something was different and it made me nervous.

He stabbed his finger at the menu, pointing at a picture of a stack of enchiladas. “I was out in L.A. a couple of weeks ago. Went to a Mexican restaurant. Part of a chain, I think. Man, one enchilada, I mean one measly tortilla dipped in chili sauce and sprinkled with cheese, was four ninety-five. Is that outrageous or what?” He glanced up at me.

I’d heard what Tooley was saying, but I figured the question was rhetorical so I didn’t respond. I was also still thinking about Rich. I was tired of these dalliances. I wanted more than that. I wanted Tooley and I knew he was off limits, but his touches tonight really fucked up my thinking. For one thing, it dawned on me while I was muddling, all these years it was always Tooley who had to come to me. First, when we were kids his parents discouraged me hanging around his house. And then he got married and since I didn’t want to harm his marriage, I stayed away. Staying away had become such a habit that even after his divorce … I stayed away.

“And besides the exorbitant price, they don’t soak the tortillas in sauce; they just roll them up and pour some sauce over them. What a rip off.”

Damn, he just turns me on. Even at thirty-seven he’s still so sexy and cute when he gets wound up.

The waitress came and took our orders. He ordered the stacked enchiladas. I ordered carne asada con papas fritas y verduras, a grilled marinated steak with fried potatoes and vegetables. That was one of the great things about Helena’s - you only got refried beans and Spanish rice on request.

“Hey, Shay, are you okay? You look like someone just took your lollipop away from you.”

I shrugged. “Yeah, I kinda feel that way.”

“You want to tell me about it?”

Tom’s known I’m gay for years. Hell, since we were in high school. It never made any difference to him. He remained my best friend. I never had any difficulty talking to Tooley about anything … well, except how I felt about him.

“Oh, it’s silly. Damn, at thirty-eight you’d think I'd know better.” I commenced to tell him the whole story. Our food came and as we ate I finished the story and ended up feeling sorry for myself all over again because I couldn’t tell him what really had me feeling down.

Tooley spooned up the last bit of the red chili sauce on his plate and pushed it away. He finished off the second beer that he’d had with his meal, set the bottle next to his plate and leaned forward. “Shay?”

I looked up at my old friend. He reached across the table and took my hand. I stared at our hands. “Can I ask you something?”

I looked back up at him and shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

“Why do you keep doing it? I mean I’ve been watching you ever since that damn Lee left you - what? - ten years ago? You keep meeting these guys and you keep trying to form a relationship out of a toss in the sack. Every one of them leaves you high and dry. Why, Shay? Why do you do it?”

I just stared blankly at him. I knew damned well why, but I couldn’t tell him. I wondered if he had an inkling that the reason Lee had left me was because he couldn’t compete with a redheaded straight man.

“Did you ever think about looking closer to home for someone?” he asked. He squeezed my hand and I looked down at it and then back up at him. He has the most amazing blue eyes. His eye lashes are even auburn.

“Closer to home?” I asked. “You have someone in mind?”

He stared at me for a moment while he chewed his lip. “Me,” he said.

“But ... you’re ... you’re ... you’re straight.”

“Tried to be. Thought for a long time I’d succeeded.”

I stared at him a long time. I wondered if it was the booze talking. Did this mean that he was playing around with other guys? Is that how he knew he wasn’t straight? I thought of all the years I’d carried a torch for him.

“So you’re into playing with other men now?”

His expression said I might as well have slapped him. “Damn you, Shay. Do you really think I’d play around on you?”

This wasn’t making any sense. “You’re playing head games on me, aren’t you?” I asked.

“I’m serious, dammit. No games.”

I dropped my eyes down to his hand on top of mine. My anger boiled up. This had to be the liquor if it wasn’t a game. It was hitting too close to my core - my reason for living. “You bastard. How dare you tell me you’re not straight. I’ve spent my whole life trying to find someone to take your place.” I yanked my hand away like his touch burned me, slid out of the booth and stood over him. “You can go straight to hell.” I turned on a heel, headed for the door.

Tooley slid out of the booth and followed me outside. “Shay, stop,” he yelled after me as I headed toward home. He raced after me and caught my arm, pulling me around.

I shook his hand loose. “Don’t touch me, you asshole.”

“We’ve got to talk about this.”

The waitress had followed us out. “Señores, you forgot to pay.” We both turned and stared at her. She stood there waving the bill at us. Tooley pulled out his wallet and handed her a fifty. “Keep the change.”

With profuse gratitude she went back in.

Tooley turned back to me and repeated, “Shay, we gotta talk about this.”

“Not right now, we don’t. I’d just as soon beat the livin’ shit outta you as look at you. How dare you tell me you’re not straight.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t understand? Well, tough shit. That makes two of us. And ... and ... Fuck! Just stay away from me.” I turned and started walking again. I could hear him blubbering behind me. He yelled, “I’m sorry. Shay, I’m so sorry.”

I glanced back at him. He’d collapsed on the sidewalk. I stopped and thought about it. He was my best friend after all; I couldn’t just leave him lying there. I walked back and stood looking down at him. How in hell was I supposed to stay angry when he was being so pathetic? God, I hate drunks. I just can’t deal with them. I felt like kicking him in the kidneys, but instead I put my heel on his rump and pushed him. “Get up, S.O.B.”

He got up to his knees, wrapped his arms around my thighs and pressed his forehead against my crotch. “You don’t know how hard it’s been, Shay. My parents, Marcia, my kids.”

A group of people had stopped to watch. I grabbed Tooley by his armpits and pulled him up. “He’s just a maudlin drunk, folks. Pay no attention. I’ll get him home,” I told them. They filed on into the restaurant. “Did you drive here?” I asked.

He nodded.

“Gimme your keys. Where’d you park?”

He pointed across the street and handed me his keys. I gathered him against my side with an arm around his shoulders and proceeded across the street. He put an arm around my waist. Damn, it felt good … like that was where it was supposed to be. But I was still pissed. He’d deprived me of so many years of ... of himself, of this pleasure of holding him, of him holding me. I should have taken him to his own place. But I couldn’t see leaving him for his teenage son to deal with.

Once I got him into the house, he passed out on the sofa. I stood over him and stared at him for several minutes. It could have been seconds. It felt like a long time though. Finally, I sighed and went to find a shot of something to numb the pain, the anger, the hurt.

Tequila. I took the bottle and a shot glass out to the dark patio and settled into a chair by the pool. The tequila was too fine to toss back. I sipped it, savoring the flavor and considered what Tooley had told me. I could feel the pound of my blood coursing through my veins. I wanted to continue to be angry, but somewhere along the way I’d realized he wasn’t playing with me. So he had to get drunk to tell me. So what? I couldn’t blame him. I knew what his father and mother had been like: self-righteous, hate-blinded, self-professed Christians. They’d been the kind who approved of killing women and children in the name of their god, and hated a man who loved another man.

I’d gone to his mother’s funeral and endured his father’s baleful stare. And then when his father died I had stood by him again, much to Marcia’s consternation. But Tooley was straight and I knew she had no threat from me.

And then a year later, Marcia divorced him and moved back to Portales. It wasn’t eight months later that Andy, Tooley’s fifteen year old son, was shipped back to live with him. Tooley never said why and I hadn’t asked. But I understood why he’d tried to be straight.

I hadn’t noticed, but I must have gone through at least three jiggers of tequila añejo. I was feeling mellow when Tooley came out and laid a hand on my shoulder. Damn, why did he have to keep touching me? I should have pushed his hand away; instead I laid my cheek against it.

“How are you doing?” I asked.

“I haven’t the least idea,” he said. “And you?”

“The tequila’s got me feeling pretty numb.”

“Are you still pissed off at me?”

“Tom, come around here and sit down.”

“Why are you calling me Tom?” he asked. “You’ve always used my last name.”

“Well, I guess it was my way of reminding myself you were off limits.”

“Oh.”

“I’ve been sitting out here thinking about your life. I understand why you attempted to lead a straight life. I just don’t understand why you never said anything to me.”

Tom stared past me. I began to wonder if he’d even heard me, but then he started talking.

“For years I couldn’t admit it to myself. When I did there was still no way I could tell anyone else. If I’d talked about it, Shay, even to you ... no, especially to you, I’d probably have given up trying.”

“And Marcia found out anyway and divorced you.”

“No, we divorced amicably enough. We realized that we didn’t need each other anymore. In the beginning she needed a husband and father for the kid she was pregnant with and I needed a wife to hide behind. And our constant bickering wasn’t good for the kids.”

I’d often wondered why Amy his oldest didn’t look like him while Andy was his spittin’ image and Darlene, his youngest, was a female version of her brother.

“So why did you wait four years after your divorce to tell me?”

“Still scared … and Andy. Just about the time I’d gotten up the courage to tell you, Andy came back to live with me.”

“I’ve never understood why Marcia shipped him back to you, especially now that I know you’re gay.”

“She couldn’t accept that he was gay. She knew I’d accept him, being you’re my best friend.”

“Andy’s now nineteen, and starting college this fall. So you have found yourself a new lady to take Marcia’s place?”

Tom looked me in the eyes and shook his head. “You really are a dumb fuck.” He reached across the table and took the bottle out of my hand and then took my hand in both of his. I stared at them. My heart had started pounding again. I wanted to get up and run. I tried to pull my hand away, but he held onto it.

“Look at me, Shay.”

I glanced up at him. Something in his eyes caught mine and held me in thrall.

“I need you to forgive me for what I’ve done to you. I never meant to hurt you. I just couldn’t be what you wanted. I was so scared of my feelings. So scared that my parents would hate me and disown me if they found out. And then I trapped myself in a loveless marriage. Hell, the only good things in my life have been you and my kids. Please forgive me, Shay.”

I’d thought he was going to declare his undying love for me. Well, he hadn’t really done anything that deserved my forgiveness. I pulled my hand and he let go. I walked to the edge of the pool and stared into its bright aqua depths. I turned and looked back at Tom in the eerie light. So now he wasn’t straight. He wanted my forgiveness, but did he want me? He hadn’t said so in so many words.

I stared back into the pool. I was missing something. Something he’d said. I mulled over the whole sequence of events since I’d run into him at Helena’s. Oh God, I’m dense sometimes. He’d actually offered himself to me before he told me he was gay. I guess I was so shocked I’d blocked it out.

I knelt beside him and caressed the back of his head. “Did you mean it when you suggested I look closer to home?” I asked.

He raised his head and looked at me. Red does not complement his beautiful blue eyes. He nodded, cleared his throat, said “Yes.”

I stood and Tom stood up with me and looked me in the eyes. He was obviously waiting for me to make a move. I reached out and pulled him to my chest and kissed the top of his head as he laid his forehead on my shoulder. “I love you, Tom. Have you ever had sex with another man?”

He pulled back and stared at me, incredulous.

“Well, then. We’re going to take this slow. I know you’re my best friend, but I don’t know that you’re really ready to be my lover.”

He hugged himself to me like a child, with his total body. I loved the feel of his smaller body against mine. His forehead was even with my lips. I kissed it. “I’m ready, Shay,” he said, looking up at me.

I simply nodded and sought his lips. I felt his hesitation, but persisted until he got past the idea that he was actually kissing me. His tongue haltingly explored my lips and I opened to him. His tongue brushed over my teeth. I touched my tongue to his. His body tensed, but after a moment of dueling with my tongue, he relaxed and we took turns exploring each other’s mouth. I could feel his hardness pressed against me and slid a hand down to grasp him through the denim. He startled and then pushed into my hand, his eyes wide, like a frightened colt. His body tensed and started quaking, then his knees gave way and he collapsed against me. Still clinging to me, his arms around my chest, his head tucked into the curve of my neck, he said “I’m sorry, Shay. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Cherishing the moment, I held him tightly against me until he regained his equilibrium.

“Hey, it’s okay, Tom, I didn’t know that I turned you on so much.”

Tom started laughing. It began as a gentle chuckle, but ended as a near-hysterical cackle. He was hugging me and kissing my neck as he calmed down, with an occasional outburst. “If ... if you ... Oh shit. If you only knew what a battle I’ve had keeping myself under control around you.” He pulled back. “Uh oh, what time is it?”

I glanced at my watch.  “It’s nine thirty-eight. Why?”

“I promised Andy I’d be home to meet this guy he’s been dating. Seems to be getting serious about him. Come with me?”

“Tom, I’d love to but I’m on duty tomorrow morning. I have to be at the courthouse at seven. I’ve got to get some sleep. It’s been a hard day.”

Tom looked crestfallen.

I grimaced and shrugged.

He then must have remembered my story about Rich. I’m sure I turned a dark shade of red when he said, “Oh, yeah, I forgot,” and pulled away from me.

“Tom, I promise if you’re tellin’ the truth, it’s only you from now on.”

He nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets. The wet spot from his orgasm was right over his right hand. “I gotta go change my pants before the boys get home.”

I pulled his keys out of my pocket and handed them to him. “You know you’d always have been the one–and-only one if you’d been available.”

He nodded and said, “I know. It’s just … I never let it mean anything before. Well, it did, but I ... well, you know.” He heaved a great sigh and said, “I’ve gotta go.” He was almost running as he went out the side gate, leaving me standing there feeling like I’d been unfaithful to him.

I stared at the damned gate for a long time trying to get my thoughts unjumbled. As I thought about it, I was still kind of angry. I still felt betrayed. I felt guilty for my afternoon’s toss in the sack with Rich. I felt good and guilty at the same time that Tom had kissed me and let me fondle him. The thought crossed my mind that he had just been horny and drunk. Tomorrow, or the next time we saw each other, neither of us would say anything about what had happened and life would go on as usual. That depressed me.

I picked up the tequila bottle with the intention of taking a big swig, but ended up tightening the cap, picking up the shot glass and heading into the house. I stopped and stared at the phone, shrugged and headed for another shower. It hadn’t been three hours since my last shower, but I needed to feel the sharp, hot spray on my tense shoulders before going to bed.

Once in bed I stared into the darkness and ticked through the day’s events. I knew it would be a long time before sleep sought me out. The phone rang.

“Shay Warren,” I answered.

“I can’t go to bed without saying ...” There was a long pause. “God, I’m such a mess right now. You’re a good friend. Didn’t mean to leave so abruptly.” Then after another hesitant pause, “I love you, Shay.”

“Tom, you also know I love you. Tonight I made you a promise … I keep my word. You know that, you S.O.B.”

Tom chuckled. It was good to hear him laugh. “I deserved that, I suppose. Good night, Shay.” He disconnected.

For the rest of the night I wondered how he meant it when he said he loved me. Just as a friend? What?

I spent the day being a guard in court at the federal courthouse downtown. When I got off duty at four, I changed my clothes and headed for the shop.

Joy took one look at me and shook her head. “Damn, another one duped you.”

I frowned at her. “Mind your own business, woman. He’s already on his way back to New York City.”

She shook her head. “Well ...  Oh, we got in a shipment of Takahashi enamel ware. I’ve got most of it unpacked and inventoried. You keep shop and I’ll finish it up.”

“Sure you don’t want me to finish up?” This is the boss asking the employee. What can I say? She runs things. I’m just glad I’m not straight, ’cause I know she’d try being my wife if I were. She plays the part in taking care of me in the shop anyway.

“No, you’ve put in a full day’s work. I’ll do it.”  With that she disappeared into the back. I followed as far as the fridge, which I opened to pull out a longneck. The front door bell jangled. I twisted off the cap and took a swig figuring I’d give the customer a moment to look around before I greeted them. Suddenly I was thrust up against the fridge. My attacker had a strong grip on my wrists holding them up above the fridge. His hot breath on my neck made me shiver. I could feel a hard cock pressed against my ass as kisses were applied to my neck. Before I could get loose or turn around Joy was asking, “What is with that damned refrigerator? Is it some kind of sex magnet? Every time I turn around, Shay, some man has you thrust up against it.”

My attacker jumped back. As I started to turn around, Joy screamed, “Tom Tooley!”

“Hi Joy. I didn’t know you were hiding back there.”

“I wasn’t hiding. What were you doing to my boss?”

I watched Tom turn bright red as he stuttered, “I ... I ... I was just kissin’ the back of his neck. That’s all.”

“And why were ...”

“Joy, shut up and mind your own business,” I said.

“Shay ...”

“Just leave him alone.”

“What? You’re so damned hot even this straight man can’t keep his hands off of you?”

“That’s enough, Joy. Tom’s already embarrassed enough.”

“I just stopped by to say hi. I gotta run.” He turned and fled.

I turned on Joy.  “See what you did?”

She stared at me wide eyed. For the first time since I’ve known her she was utterly speechless.

I grimaced and said, “I’m sorry. I’m sure you were shocked.”

She blinked, turned to the fridge and got herself a beer, then wandered out the front door and sat on the edge of the board walk. I followed her out the door.

“You know you could be arrested for drinking on the street.”

“Oh B.S., I know every damn cop in this part of the city. They would dare.” I knew she was right. I wandered over and sat beside her. “So Tommy finally came out of his closet,” she muttered.

“He kind of said that last night. He’s actin’ weird. Last night he kept touching me.”

“Shay, I called him a straight man a minute ago - the man’s been in love with you since ... geez ... since you guys were freshman in high school.” 

“Tom has been my best friend all my life. He’s straight,” I insisted.

“Damn, you’re dumber than a rock. Why do you think Marcia divorced him?”

“That’s simple. Because she didn’t want to live with a man she didn’t love and who didn’t love her.”

“Dumber than a rock,” she said and shook her head. “She had two kids by him, Shay. She agreed to an amicable divorce. She even gave his son back to him.”

“That’s because the boy is gay and she couldn’t accept it.”

Again she shook her head and said, “Dumber than a rock.”

“Would you stop saying that. You’re giving me a complex.”

“Well, it’s true. All men are dumb. Of course, she loves him. Why wouldn’t she have taken him to the cleaners otherwise? Damn, Shay, she wanted to see him find some happiness after his poker-up-the-ass parents finally died."

“I wonder why she never told him that.”

“How do you know she didn’t?”

“He told me that they amicably divorced because they couldn’t stand each other.”

“And that sounds logical to you?”

“Well ... yeah, it did.”

“Dumber than a rock,” she muttered and took a long swig of her beer.

“Damn, it’s hot out here.” I finished off my beer and stood up.  “Come on back inside where it’s cool.”  I gave her a hand and took her empty bottle so she could dust her bottom off.

When she came back inside, I turned the Open sign around so it read Closed and locked the door. “What are you doing? It’s only five o’clock,” she asked.

“And there’s not a soul out on the plaza. Do you want another beer?”

She laughed and said, “Sure.”

I turned the lights off. Pulling a couple of bottles out of the fridge, I walked over to the dining table by the kitchen set-up and motioned for her to join me.

When she sat down, I asked, “So … Marcia divorced him so he could be with me?”

“Shay, I’ve never lied to you.”

“Well, I’d better go find him and straighten this out.”

She laughed. “Hell, Shay, you should have followed him out the door.”

“I s’pose. Now, where the hell d’you think he went?”

“He probably headed for the nearest place to get a drink.”

“Helena’s?”

“That’s the first place I’d look.”

I guzzled the rest of the beer and stood up. “I’m headed over there.”

“That’s the thing to do,” she said.

“You’ll lock up?”

“Get out of here, Shay.”

I wandered down the block to Helena’s. When I reached the door, I stopped and stared at Tom’s back. I wondered where the truth lay. Was Joy telling me the truth?  Tom had acted so straight all my life. Had he just been acting? Were Tom’s actions and words last night the truth? Was it the alcohol talking?

I didn’t know. At this point, I wasn’t sure I’d know the truth if it hit me between the eyes. Manny, the bartender, caught Tom’s attention and motioned with his chin in my direction. Tom turned and nodded at me. I walked over and sat down on the bar stool next to him. He stared straight ahead. Manny brought me a longneck and went back to polishing glasses.

I took a swig and looked at Tom. “Sorry she embarrassed you.”

He shrugged. “S’right. Just wanted to say hi.”

I grinned. “I like the way you said it.”

He grinned, took a swig and ducked his head.

“Look, Tom,” I said. “Joy says I’m dumb and maybe I am. She says that the reason Marcia divorced you was because she loves you and so you could be with me. Is that true?”

He didn’t answer for a long moment. After taking another swallow of beer he turned and looked at me. “And if it is?” he asked as if it were a challenge.

“Is it?” I demanded.

He stared at me some more, maybe to be sure I wouldn’t react like early last night. “Yeah, it’s true.” He turned back to his bottle and lifted it to his lips.

“You’ve been divorced four years. It took you that long to get around to telling me. I’ve seen you at least every other day for every one of those four years.”

“And I wanted to tell you every time,” he muttered into the top of his beer bottle not looking at me.

“So what kept you from it?”

“Fear.”

“Fear? You’re the man that faced three Chicano punks with switchblades, backed them down and ended up with all three blades in his pocket, and you were afraid to tell me that you’re gay and in love with me?”

“Hell, Shay, this is different.”

“So why did you tell me that you and Marcia hated each other?”

“Didn’t mean to lie. I just was too scared to say the truth. I mean what if you’d stopped loving me. I would be left high and dry with my mouth hangin’ open.”

“Damn, Tom. Maybe Joy is right. She says all men are dumb as rocks.”

“You tellin’ me I’m dumb?”

“You are if you think I’d stop ... Do you really want to be with me?”

“What do you think, Shay?”

“I think my thinking is really messed up.” I shook my head like a dog slings water. “You’ve been straight my whole life and now you’re not. I don’t know what to do with that.”

I could feel Tom staring at me like he was memorizing the side of my face. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. He wasn’t straight any more. He’d told me he loved me. I didn’t know for sure what kind of love he meant. I was afraid to be forward for fear of having misinterpreted.

“You could pretend I'm a stranger,” he said softly. ”I’ve just walked into your store and find you hot and sexy.”

I gaped at him, then asked, “And you’d be pretendin’, too?”

“Joy is right about you and rocks.”

I laughed at his indignation. “So, you want me to take you home and have my way with you?” He nodded. “I always fuck the guys I take home. You ready to be fucked?” I thought being blunt would shock him out of this game he was playing – if it was a game.

“I bought a dildo after Marcia left. I’ve been practicin’.”

That startled the hell outta me but I kept pressing. “So, you’re seriously willing to be my bitch?”

He frowned and looked away. “I ain’t no bitch.” Then he turned back and smiled at me, coyly. “But I’ll happily be your bottom.”

I laughed and shook my head in disbelief. The thought of Tom Tooley under me with his muscular legs in the air had me rock hard. Then I thought about him stretched out on top of me, holding my arms above my head, chest to hairy chest while he had his way with me.

"I also like to get fucked, Tom. You ready to stick it to me and give me a good hard fuckin'?"

Tom grinned at me. “Thinkin’ about drilling your beautiful butt gets me hard as a rock.”

I grinned slyly at Tom. “So where’d you say you’re from, stranger?”

We finished our beers and headed for the door.

I stopped on the sidewalk and Tom turned around to see why. “Damn it, Tom, this isn’t goin’ to work.”

“Why not? I’m willin’. Little Shay looks like he’s willin’.” He was pointedly lookin’ at my swollen dick. “What’s the problem?”

I put my hand around the back of his neck and headed down the street. “The problem is I’m in love with you.”

He put his hand on my shoulder and shook his head. “That is a problem. Double problem.”

“Double problem?”

“Yup, ‘cause I’m in love with you.”

We meandered on down the street towards my house, arms around each other’s shoulders. “You know, Tom? This double problem is kind of like a double negative in a sentence.”

“How’s that?”

“Surely you remember Miz Shoop in fourth grade. A double negative makes a positive.”

Tom grinned. “So what we’ve got here is something positive.”

“Yup. Something very positive. Huh! And Joy thinks we’re dumb as rocks.”