Anything Could Happen (17 page)

I
T
WAS
with great excitement that Austin passed over his next big threshold—and that was his entrance of The Male Box, his first gay bar.

His first thought?

Are all these guys gay?

Guy saw the look on his face and, as if reading his mind, said, “Honey, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet. The gays don’t even show up until at least ten, and that’s only because they want to get good seats for the show.”

But Austin’s thoughts remained the same. Ahead of him and slightly to the right was the main bar, which stretched the length of the room. It was a good thirty feet long, and almost every stool was occupied. To the right was at least one pool table—it was hard to see from where he was standing—and three men were gathered around it. Immediately in front of him were several round tables, tall enough to need barstools as well, and patrons claimed half of those. To Austin’s left was a set of stairs leading to where he did not know, but four or five guys were heading up them.

It was quite a few men, and….
Are all these guys gay?
Austin’s heart started beating even faster.
Are they?

Farther to Austin’s left was a slight drop and the stage area. It was there that Guy and a handful of others guided him. Rows of chairs and small tables had been set up, and as they approached, Austin saw three of the tables had been ribboned off with “Reserved” signs. Several helium balloons rose above each table, held in place by brightly decorated weights.

And how many chairs have been reserved
? Austin wondered. Was that nine? Ten? People Guy had invited, apparently. Which was nice since Austin really didn’t know many people in Kansas City yet, especially those who would want to go to a gay bar. Most of his acquaintances at that point were the senior residents of his apartment building.

“Which one of you is the birthday boy?”

They turned around, and Austin’s mouth fell open. Standing before them was a young man—one who didn’t look old enough to be in the bar—wearing little more than a black leather vest, jock, and matching army boots. He was very thin, but with a respectable little set of pecs, and was smooth as smooth could be. He didn’t even seem to have hair on his legs. He did, however, have long dark hair touching his shoulders, and a very pretty face. Pretty as a girl.

“This is the one you’re looking for,” Guy said, stepping behind Austin, resting his big hands on his shoulders and giving them a squeeze. Austin shivered.

“You cold?” Guy whispered in his ear, so close he could feel the heat of the man’s breath.

Definitely not cold
. “I’m fine,” Austin managed. He gulped. Between the nearly naked young man with the surprising bulge in his leather jock and Guy so close behind him, breathing against his neck, a stirring had begun in Austin’s jeans.

“Well, Happy B-day,” the youth said and leaned in and gave Austin a kiss that somehow managed to be chaste and sexy at the same time. “The management of The Male Box has asked me to say that we all hope you have the best birthday ever.”

“Th-thank you,” Austin stammered, feeling his cock shift even more.

“And…”

Just then another man appeared, dressed—or undressed—like the youth. This one was much more muscular, though, with a thick, hairy chest. He was carrying two buckets filled with ice and a bottle of Champagne apiece, one in each hand like dumbbells, biceps popping deliciously. Austin’s eyes went wide at the sight and his crotch stirred even more. This new waiter—after putting the buckets down—pulled him close, clutched his ass roughly, and licked his cheek. “Happy fucking birthday,” he said, and then turned and sauntered off. Austin could only stare at his retreating hairy butt.

“Happy birthday, Austin,” said Uncle Bodie.

“Huh? Wha?” Austin asked as that muscular ass disappeared in the crowd.

“I said, ‘happy birthday.’” His uncle laughed.

A little zing went through Austin, one he’d been getting all day.
Twenty-one
. He was twenty-one! Legal. Now, at least, he could do whatever he wanted. He’d never understood why he was old enough to die for his country at eighteen, but not allowed to drink for it. It seemed wrong somehow.

“Thanks, Uncle Bodie.” He threw his arms around his uncle. He’d done that a lot today. “I love you.” He stood back, then pointed at the Champagne. “Did you do all this?”

“Don’t look at me. Guy did most of the organizing.”

He looked over at Guy. “Thanks.” He hesitated a moment, then gave the man a hug. And yes—
Zam!
—he felt that rush go through him again.
Why can’t you be Todd?
he thought for the hundredth time.

“No problem. It was fun. But I didn’t do the bubbly.”

“You didn’t?” Austin asked. “Then who did?”

He pulled a card off one of the bottles and looked down at the lovely script. “For Austin,” it said.

“Go on,” said Uncle Bodie. “Open it.”

Austin waited a moment longer, and then tore it open in a rush. “Gosh,” he said. “Happy Birthday—sorry I couldn’t make it—hope your day is an adventure—Peter Wagner.” He looked up, astonished.

“Peter really is sorry he couldn’t be here,” his uncle said. “He’s in Germany. I should have given him more warning we were doing this; he probably would have made it. Sorry, son.”

“No,” said Austin. “It’s okay, Uncle Bodie. I just can’t believe he did this.”

“Do you want these bottles opened?” asked the younger waiter, who was still standing there.

“Let’s wait just a tad,” suggested Guy. “A few more people are going to join us. Is that okay with you, Austin?”

“S-sure.”

They sat and Guy ordered a round of drinks. “What’ll you have?” he asked Austin.

Austin shrugged. “I don’t know. They probably don’t have that hoppy IPA stuff, right?”

“Nah, it’s a specialty beer. And I sure don’t want you to drink the Box’s house specialty—Pabst.”

The waiter shuddered. “God, no!”

“What are you having, then?” Austin asked.

“I’m a Cuban-Lesbian fan myself.”

“Excuse me?” Austin was confused.

“A Cuba Libre,” the waiter said. “Rum and Coke with lime.”

“Oh, I love lime,” said Austin. “That sounds good. Extra lime, please.”

“I’ll just have some white wine,” Uncle Bodie said.

“Okay, then, I’ll be right back in a shake.” He turned, shook his impossibly round bare ass, and winked over his shoulder.

“Oh my God,” Austin exclaimed as he sat down. This was what gay was?

“This is all a
part
of being gay,” Guy said, once more seeming to read his mind.

How does he do that?

He looked around him. A few men and women were sitting at a nearby table.
Are they gay?
he wondered. He was sure the young waiter was. So pretty. Not really his type, but….

Like that, the waiter was back with a tray and their drinks. He placed them on the table, and Guy asked if he could start a tab.

“If you leave your credit card,” the boy-man said. Boy? Man? If it weren’t for the bit of pecs, and what may or may not be a fairly big dick in that jock, he could be a girl, Austin thought. He was that pretty.

Guy dug it out of his back pocket and handed it over.

“Hey, you can’t do that!” Austin said. “I’ve got money.”

“And it’s your birthday,” Guy replied. “Tonight, you don’t pay.”

“I’ll take this to the bar,” boy-man said and strode off, wagging his ass once again.

“Damn.” Austin couldn’t help but stare. He’d never seen men stroll around like that outside a locker room.

“I’d tap that,” Guy said, laughing.

“As would I, in another time and place,” Uncle Bodie said appreciatively.

“He’s a little pretty for my taste,” Austin replied.

“You wouldn’t kick him out of bed for eating crackers, would you?” his uncle asked.

Austin blushed and they all laughed. “I guess I like my men a little more… hairy.” And he blushed all the more.

“Listen to you,” growled Guy. “So you liked Mr. Muscles?”

Now his face was positively flaming. “I guess. But someone in between the two of them would be best.”
Like you
, he thought, looking into Guy’s handsome face.

Todd! Remember Todd!

“L
OOK
,”
said Uncle Bodie. “Why don’t we drink a toast to Austin.”

“Sounds good,” Guy said.

Austin smiled shyly.

“To Austin’s twenty-first birthday. As Peter said so wisely, may it be an adventure.”

“Hear, hear!” Guy raised his glass, and Bodie and Austin clinked theirs against his and drank.

“Whoa!” Austin’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “Did they put
any
Coke in this glass?”

“Very little,” said Guy. “These bartenders depend on tips. You even give a dollar and you know all the ones you have after that will be killer.”

“Plus, I imagine they know you well here,” said Uncle Bodie.

“Not
that
well, my friend,” Guy protested.

“You spend too much time in places like this.”

“You make it sound like I’m an alcoholic.”

“I never meant to imply that at all,” said Uncle Bodie. “Only that you could come home a
little
more often in the evening. We’ve missed you. Of course, my bedtime is nine anyway. But Austin doesn’t know many people in our fair city and could use a little company now and again. The poor boy is alone almost all the time.”

“Oh.”
Is that an uncomfortable look on Guy’s face
? Austin wondered. He hoped not.
Change the subject
, he thought. Tonight was supposed to be fun. “I’m not alone,” Austin told his uncle. “I have you and Lucille and a building full of tenants.”

“People four times your age are hardly the company you need, my boy.” Uncle Bodie took a drink of his wine. “And speaking of being alone, what are you doing for Christmas, Guy?”

He shrugged. “Nothing really. Probably hang out in the evening with a few friends. Here probably. It’s packed here on Christmas evening. All the fags who’ve had to spend ‘quality’ time with their family all day. Macho bullshitting with dads and uncles and cousins. Being asked when they’re going to get married by moms and aunts and more cousins….”

“See what I mean, Austin? He’s going to be alone all day. And then spend the evening with drunken fools. And you, Guy. Telling me you don’t spend too much time here.”

“Well, Bodie. I’m playing the cards I was dealt, you know?”

Austin cleared his throat.
Good time! We are supposed to be having a good time.

“Well, what if I dealt you a different hand?” Uncle Bodie asked.

God. Uncle Bodie is going to do it. Crap!
He felt his stomach knot up. What would Guy say?

“Austin and I are going to go home to Buckman for a few days for Christmas. We wondered if you would go with us.”

The question obviously startled Guy. “What?”

“We’d have to take your car, of course. There isn’t room for the four of us in Austin’s pickup. But we could get away for a few days. And you could relax and have a real Christmas for once.”

“I-I… I don’t know what to say. This is such a surprise.”

Guy at a loss for words?
Austin thought.
Will miracles never cease?

But before he could answer, some of the first guests arrived. It was the triad he’d met at Guy’s little get-together weeks ago. Thank God they introduced themselves, because there was no way he remembered all the names of the people he’d met that night, even if they were as unusual as a “throuple.”

Tony, the big, bearded member of the little group, went to get drinks.

“That’s Tony for you,” said Mark, a handsome man just starting to go salt-and-pepper. “Too impatient to stick around long enough for a waiter.”

“While Mark will wait until the end of the universe to be served,” said Grant. He was the one who’d said he was the newest member of their little family, Austin remembered.

“Damn right,” Mark said with a wink.

Austin put on a grin and tried to talk. He wanted to meet people, but coming from a town where he knew nearly everyone, he didn’t really know how to go about it. He found he was as nervous as hell.

Tony came back with three small pitchers of beer, and Austin couldn’t help but goggle.

“It’s really only about two, two-and-a-half glasses worth a pitcher,” Grant explained. “It’s cheaper, and you don’t have order as many times.”

“Oh,” said Austin. That made sense.

“We make you uncomfortable, don’t we,” Grant said quietly, leaning in.

Austin shrugged. “A little, maybe.”

“I understand. Believe me. I never expected to be with
one
man, let alone two. But I fell for both of them. Hard, Austin. I fell in love with them,
as
a unit. And miracles of miracles, they fell for me too. And got me out of a bad situation.”

“What kind of situa—sorry. None of my business,” Austin apologized.

“It’s okay. It’s not like you couldn’t read about it if you wanted.”

“How in the world would I do that?”

“A friend of ours. Jude. He’s a writer. He used to live in Chicago, and once when the three of us were vacationing there, we met him and were talking and he asked if he could tell our story. It was pretty cool.”

“He wrote your story?”

Grant nodded. “And then it was a surprise when he moved into our neck of the woods. We were all amazed when we bumped into each other here one night. I think he’d forgotten we live so close.”

“Where are you from?” Austin asked.

“Terra’s Gate. It’s a college town about forty-five minutes west of here. Anyway, I was married to a woman for twenty years.”

“A woman? Twenty years?”

“I was fighting it. Being gay. Did a damned good job of it until they moved in next door.”

Austin nodded but didn’t fully understand. Twenty years? One hour with Joan—no, five minutes, and he’d known he was gay for sure. He could never have married. And certainly not for twenty years. He looked at the man, tried to imagine him married. And funny—just like that—the triad/throuple thing was okay. Not because there was anything wrong with a man being married to a woman. But not
this
man.
This
man
needed
to be gay. And if it took a couple to bring him out of himself, so be it, and he was happy for the three of them.