The Game (6 page)

“Gallery showing? Your portfolio? Someone is hosting a show for you? Why didn’t you tell me?” Shari squealed, jumping up and hugging Marcie.

“I was going to this weekend. It’s scheduled for the week after next. I still can’t believe it.”

Dave grinned. “Guess I’ll see your work sooner than we thought. Congratulations, Marcie.”

“Yeah, that’s fantastic. Have you selected the pictures yet?” Frank asked.

Marcie swirled her coffee with her finger then licked off the tepid liquid. She made a face and then slapped on a happy smile.

“Well, I did bring some 8x10s to look through while we were up here—just in case Frank and I hated each other’s guts, I locked him out of the bedroom, and wedged a chair under the knob to keep him from bashing it down.” She turned an innocent look on the three others. “Kidding. And you know we don’t hate each other.” She grinned. “I actually like him.” She sighed. “Gosh, lighten up. I brought them because, well, I wasn’t sure I’d picked the right ones, and I thought maybe getting some objective opinions would help me make up my mind.” She smiled tentatively. “I still can’t believe someone thinks my work is that good.”

“We’ll look at them as soon as I clear the table. You go bring them in here. There’s better light and we can…there’s better light!” Shari’s voice broke. “The snow’s stopped completely. The sun’s coming out! It didn’t even hit me until now.”

Dave strode to the small window by the kitchen door. He wiped off some of the grime and peered through the small patch of clean glass. “The sun’s shining so bright, the glare is blinding. If we’re lucky, the plow may get up here by tomorrow or Monday.” He took a deep breath. “We’d better hope so, because the snow is more than halfway up the window and the drifts are even higher.”

“Shit.” Frank spat the word out.

Marcie laughed bitterly. “Well, I guess that says it all.”

“Hey, if the plow doesn’t get here by tonight, we’ll say to hell with conserving and make a huge fire. They usually send up helicopters after storms like this, just to make sure no one is stranded. They’ll see the smoke from the chimney, plow us out, and we’ll be fine.” Dave spoke with authority, managing to calm their fears for the moment. “Let’s look at Marcie’s photos.”

* * * *

“Well, those are the ones we all agree we like the best.” Marcie pointed to a stack of twenty-four pictures and then to a smaller pile. “And these are the ones we’re not sure of. I need twelve more to present to Josh. Any ideas?”

“Let’s talk about why we’re not in agreement about them. Maybe we can see a common theme for our reasons.” Frank’s suggestion made sense and he picked up the first one and passed it around the circle.

“Too commercial. I mean, two kids and a dog?” Dave sniffed.

“But see, the dog’s a rescue dog and there’s the blurred image of a bombed-out building in the background,” Shari pointed out.

“No. I see Dave’s point. The subject’s been done to death. Too hokey.” Marcie took the picture from Frank and turned it facedown. She chose another one. “How about this?”

“Oh, I like this one.” Shari grinned. “It is so wicked.”

Marcie smiled. “I took this one at a friend’s engagement shower. We hired two male strippers for her. Only problem was, I hired one and her sister-in-law to be hired another. They both showed up at the same time. A cop and a fireman. The fireman comes in all his gear, says there’s been a report of a gas leak and he’s looking to see if it’s from her gas fireplace. He takes off his yellow slicker and he’s wearing these tight pants and when he kneels to examine the fireplace, they split. Well, just then, Lorraine ushers into the room the cop stripper she hired, he sees the fireman’s thong-clad butt and goes nuts. Seems they work for the same agency, have a grudge going—some relationship gone wrong—and they start fighting, ripping each other’s costumes and, well, I almost peed my panties. See, I took this just after they’d made up. They left with their hands down each other’s banana slings and their tongues down their throats. But it’s the looks on the faces of the girls at the party I really like. They ranged the gamut from horror to envy.” Marcie nodded. “It’s good.” She grinned. “It shows my manic side.” She placed it on the second pile. “Let’s keep going. You guys make a great sounding board.”

The shadows had deepened before Marcie glanced at her watch and gasped.

“Jeez, I didn’t realize how long we’ve been at this! Thanks, guys. I think the ones that will be in the show are the best ones I’ve done.” Marcie rubbed the back of her neck. “How about we take a break and do something wild and crazy?”

Three pairs of eyes looked at her in shock.

“What? I wasn’t going to suggest we go out hiking in the snowdrifts. I thought maybe we’d play strip-
dreidel
a little earlier. I could use a little relaxation.” She licked her lips. “And then we can play again tonight. There’s no rule that says we can only spin once a day. Come on.” She sauntered over to the door to the living room and paused. “Well? Any takers?”

Frank stood up. “Sure, why not. Gotta do it sooner or later—play, I mean.”

Dave shrugged. “Fine by me.”

* * * *

Frank watched as the top teetered on its tip. He didn’t know whether to be happy or afraid. No, strike that. He
knew
he was afraid. Would he be lucky or not? Right now he was down to his boxers. One more spin and he’d be naked—the winner in this crazy game. He knew Marcie was hoping he’d hold off telling Dave. She really cared for his feelings and feared Dave’s reaction, but he knew his friend didn’t have a bigoted bone in his body. He wouldn’t hate the fact he was gay, just that he’d kept it a secret all these years. No, he hoped Dave would forgive his lack of trust, his lack of guts. But would he forgive him for falling in love with him?

“
Shin
, Frank. Take it off, bro. Let’s show the ladies the difference between a man and a pencil dick.” Dave’s gleeful joking brought a groan from Marcie and Shari.

“Look,
man
,” Marcie shot back. “I think the term you’re looking for Frank is
mighty sword
.”

Shari giggled. “How about
massive club
?”

“How about Dave and I leave you two little girls to play Xena and Gabrielle?” Frank got up and dropped his drawers. “Souvenir, ladies. Don’t fight over it. Come on, Dave. We’ll go over what you’ll need to do to get the cabin ready to be rented.” He turned and left the room, heading to the bedroom he shared with Marcie.

Dave looked at the two females, still chuckling. “We won’t be long. He picked up the
Mad Libs
game pad and a pencil. “I’ll just use the back of the sheets to jot down his suggestions, and we’ll be finished in a few minutes.”

* * * *

Frank paced back and forth while he waited the agonizingly few moments before Dave joined him. Assuming he did join him. He’d given him a legitimate excuse to talk, but who the hell knew how he’d react to his petulant exit. He just couldn’t think of any other way to get him alone. After all, what could he say?
I want to be with you?
Yeah, sure, like that was a good idea.

“Frankie? You okay?”

He whirled. Dave stood, hesitating in the doorway, a pad and pencil in his hands. He had on his
fucking underwear
, as he called them. A deep blue silken pouch that barely contained his penis and a thong back that would reveal his muscled butt when he turned around. Frank shuddered. He rushed over to his suitcase at the foot of the bed, threw it open and grabbed a pair of shorts.

Ain’t no way he was going to tell him anything totally naked.

“Well? What’s up, bro? Is it Marcie? I thought you guys were getting along great.” He grinned. “I think she really has the hots for you. I mean she was all over you at breakfast and even the first night, she—”

“Stop it!” Frank clenched his hands and shut his eyes. “It doesn’t matter if she likes me or not. She’s not the one I want.” He opened his eyes and saw only concern in Dave’s.

Dave took a step toward him. “Oh, shit, man. I’m really sorry. I know she has that effect on men. I mean, she is incredible. She’s so fucking sexy. Man, you don’t know how amazing Shari is. I’m really sorry, Frank.”

“It’s not Shari I want.” He took a deep, cleansing breath. “It’s you. I’m gay. I love you.”

Dave stared at him and then slowly smiled. “Bro, you had me there for a minute.” He shook his head. “Shit, as if I wouldn’t know it if you were gay. Not that I’d care, and hey, I love you, too.” He grinned. “You’re the brother I never had.”

Frank moved to Dave and stood in front of him, only inches away. He placed his hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes.

“I’m gay. I’ve known since I was fourteen. No, before that, but fourteen is when I realized I loved you, and…” His voice broke. “And you would never want me or love me.” He dropped his hands and moved to the window. He turned and looked out. “Do you hate me?” He clenched his fist and hit the window frame. “Say something. Anything.”

Frank heard the anger in Dave’s voice and leaned his head against the frigid windowpane.

“I don’t know what to say. You made a fool of me? Did everyone know but me?”

“I never intended to make you feel foolish. Your family and mine don’t know. I’ve been very careful to keep my lives separate. I was never going to tell you.” He laughed bitterly. “Not every gay sounds like a flaming queen. I could have gone on forever, keeping this a secret from you. But I can’t any longer.” He sighed. “Marcie and Shari know.”

“You son of a bitch.”

Frank whirled around. Dave stood in the center of the room. The sunlight glinted off his short brown curls, finding traces of golden blond hair. And revealing the tears sliding down his face.

“You think I give a shit that you’re gay? I’m just so fucking pissed you didn’t trust me. That you lied to me.” He took two long strides and came up into Frank’s face. He took another deep breath and cursed. “Fuck it.”

And he grabbed Frank’s face, shoving open his mouth and grinding his lips against his. He thrust his tongue in and out driving Frank crazy.

Frank’s arms whipped around Dave’s waist, and he pressed his groin against his.

And realized that Dave’s penis was still soft.

He wrenched his mouth away and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “I don’t want a pity kiss from you.”

Dave shut his eyes. “Damn, that’s not…” He paused. “I do love you, Frank, but I…I thought, maybe, I did love you the way you say you love me.” He shook his head. “I thought if I kissed you…Boy, did I blow it.”

Frank breathed deep, cupped Dave’s head and smiled. “No. That’s the problem. You didn’t
blow it
.” He dropped his hands. “Do I have to find a new apartment?”

“No. I guess not.” Dave grinned, full out. “But please, no show tunes now.”

Frank thrust out his right hand. “It’s a deal, but damn, I was hoping to take you to see
Brokeback Mountain
, the musical, next year.”

“Guess you’ll have to take someone else.”

Frank threw himself on the bed. “Jesus, I’m beat. I feel like I ran the marathon. I have to lie down for a while.”

Dave stared at him, his thoughts still whirling. He’d recovered fast enough from Frank’s bombshell, but couldn’t quite wrap his head around it. And that kiss. What the hell had he been thinking of? Damn, who was he kidding? He knew what he’d been thinking; he’d been thinking of it off and on for a while and since they’d been stranded in the cabin, it seemed it was all he’d been thinking. Christ, he was tired, too.

“Mind if I lie down next to you? You’re not the only one who’s run a mental race.”

“Sure.” Frank shrugged. “Not as if I’m going to jump your bones now.”

“Guess not.”

Dave stretched out on his side, his back to Frank. He did his best not to move, to remain unconcerned that Frank lay mere inches away from him.

He could hear him breathing.

He tried to remember if he had missed some sign or something. He had interrogated enough drag queens and runaway teenage boys willing to suck some bastard’s cock to score a fix to recognize the negative side of gay existence in the city’s alleyways. But Frank was nothing like the lowlifes that prowled the filthy streets.

He was Frank, his best friend who remembered his birthday, picked up the dry cleaning, went to the
Knicks
games with him and drank beer, and gorged on Chinese takeout late at night when he’d come home drained from dealing with some thirteen-year-old drug dealer.

And Frank loved him.

“Dave?”

He felt Frank’s hand touch his shoulder, and his warm breath on the back of his neck.

“Are you okay?”

The mattress sagged as Frank moved closer and his hand slid down his arm. Frank’s cock nudged his backside through his boxer shorts.

“Dave, can I just hold you? For a little while?”

Dave took a deep breath.
God, Frankie, don’t touch me.

“Yeah, sure.”

He could barely hear Frank’s response. “Thanks.”

Frank’s fingers twined with his, and he rested their hands on Dave’s thigh. He pressed his lips against Dave’s shoulder.
Oh, God, his lips are as soft as I’d imagined.

“Thanks for understanding.”

Dave trembled. Frank’s lips felt too good. He managed not to draw away. Damn if he would let an innocent expression of thanks disturb him.

Frank whispered in his ear.

“The first time I saw you naked in the shower after PE at Franklin High, I thought of Michelangeloʼs
David
. You were so perfect. Remember that bastard bully, Stewie Halperin? He caught me looking at you and said he would tell everyone I wanted to suck your dick. I punched him in the nose.” He chuckled. “He left me alone after that. Wouldn’t do to let anyone know he’d been beaten up by a queer.” His hand drifted around to Dave’s cock and he brushed it gently. It bucked against his fingers and Frank slowly ran his hand down its length.

“Don’t.” Dave’s voice was hoarse.
Don’t stop.

“Please, Dave, let me just…please.”

Yes, please, please. I want to know.