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Chapter 7

Seven

Titus sensed the change in Pedro's dark eyes. The warmness there had intensified, as if giving him permission to proceed. So, he continued with his roundabout explanation, Pedro's hands still in his own.

"I only want the best for Tucker."

"Of course you do. You're his father."

"I don't want him to live in my shadow—good or bad."

"Any worthy parent would say the same."

"I married Violet out of necessity. She was pregnant. It was our first time, cliché as it sounds–an accident. She came from old money too, only her family is from Morehead. So, to save both of our parents the embarrassment, we got married fast."

"Were you not in love?" Pedro asked.

"I loved her deeply, but I wasn't in love with her. I'm not certain I've ever been in love with someone."

Until now , Titus thought.

"Our love for each other grew, as it does with others. More like friends, though. Friends with a life-changing situation in common. You get me?"

"I do."

"Are you gay, Pedro?"

Pedro's eyes widened a bit, startled by the question.

"Oh, man," Titus said. "I'm sorry. That was totally out of line. I've been secluded for way too long. The line between cordial and crass is blurry, to say the least. I spend most of my day with four-year-olds."

Pedro's alarm retreated as quickly as its onset. He smiled, forgiving.

"Yes, T. I am. I am gay."

Titus closed his eyes and leaned forward, resting his face in Pedro's palms. "Thank God," he said, immersed in his warm breath and feeling the light catch of his beard stubble on Pedro's calloused palms. It was a personal gesture, intimate. Almost too intimate.

"Sorry," Titus said, straightening. He blushed self-consciously.

"It's OK. You're getting closer to what I thought you were going to say. But crass ? You get points for that. I never recall hearing anyone using that word aloud."

"I get it from my mother. She's refined, you could say."

"She must be a sophisticated woman to have such a charming son."

"Charming? Really?" Titus chuckled. "I don't know about that. As far as first impressions go, you're the winner, hands down. First day on a new job and you hit the ground running, busting with fresh ideas for the place. And now, you're playing shrink to a clearly fucked up employer who showed up to greet you in a skimpy swimsuit with nothing better to do than hold hands over lunch."

"Well, it's not exactly part of my job description." Pedro said, mock-seriously, then grinned. "But really, I don't mind. I can see you're struggling with something."

"I just… it's a small town, and it's hard for me. I feel like–and I know it's ridiculous–but I feel like folks have an image of me, and I don't wanna let them down."

"By coming out?"

Titus nodded.

Pedro inhaled deeply, then spoke. "I'm closeted, too, in a different way. Being a sponsored worker, I always feel like—" Pedro briefly thumbed through his mental files to find a suitable expression. "I'm walking on eggshells. I'm always afraid I'll make the wrong move, say the wrong thing–anything that might get me deported. As far as my sexuality, I was out to my parents and friends as a teenager in Mexico. But here, in America, I keep it hidden because I don't want to risk bringing any attention to myself. It's hard playing subservient when, inside, you just want to break free and be yourself. I keep reminding myself that one day I won't have to."

"Sounds like we have a lot in common."

"No." Pedro's eyes narrowed. "Not at all. And that, my friend, would qualify as sensitive."

"Sorry." Titus winced. "What I meant is we both keep a part of ourselves hidden."

"Yes."

"And we're gay."

"Yes again–and I know it seems mammoth to you now–but you really don't have a lot to worry about when people discover your secret. You were born here and your family has money. We couldn't be any more different."

"I don't want to be different. I like you, Pedro."

Pedro bypassed the sentiment, clearly vexed. "And you're used to getting what you want."

"Touché."

"What's going on with you is ego."

That comment stung. Only those close to Titus had ever called him out about his shortcomings. Yet, here was a man he just met, telling him like it is. It was a wake-up call and hearing it from Pedro made it even more valid.

"You're right," Titus said. His voice lifted with a lilt. "You've got a little bit of a temper there."

Pedro's glare softened. "You're not going to have me deported, are you?"

"No. Never."

"I'm sorry if I overstepped my bounds."

"Not at all. Thank you for being honest with me."

"You're welcome." Pedro's smile returned and, to Titus, it was warmer and brighter than the sun. He knew in that moment he could live for that smile.

"Anyway," Pedro continued. "I'm the one that digressed now. You were saying that you feared letting people down by coming out."

"Ugh." Titus grimaced. "Now, it just sounds stupid."

"No. It's not. Feelings are valid. Are you worried that because of your wealth and status, some may already harbor resentment?"

"No doubt."

"And maybe that ill will would extend to Tucker?"

"Yes."

"You have to live your life, too, T. You've been secluded for years. Do you really think you're at the forefront of everyone's thoughts?"

"No. But it's a small town. Word travels fast."

"Who cares?"

"I was the high school hero, P. My Dad is the mayor. My son has wealthy families on both sides. It's—I don't know how to explain without sounding pretentious. It's?—"

"Shakespearean?"

Titus's brow furrowed with confusion. "I'm not sure what you mean. I was terrible in English."

"Sorry. I don't mean to sound pretentious. It's just—I read a lot. It's a habit I picked up from my father. What I meant was that maybe it seems predestined—inevitable—like an arranged marriage."

"Maybe."

"And even though your marriage wasn't arranged, it?—"

"—felt like one," Titus finished. "Yeah. Kinda."

"But you loved each other."

"We did. I mean, there wasn't a lot physically between us because our time together was so limited—less than three years total—most of which she was terminally ill."

"I'm sorry. It's a terrible ordeal. I've been through it too."

"It was. But I took care of her and she gave me a beautiful son—a son I promised to raise well."

"So, Violet… she knew about you?"

Titus nodded. "I think when people are close, they pick up on these things. I guess she saw it in my eyes. To tell the truth, I thought maybe you did too."

"A little," Pedro said, unable to suppress his grin.

"Yeah?"

"You've kind of been doting on me since I arrived."

"I'd like to continue doting on you."

"And you're still holding my hands."

"You said you'd be sad if I let go."

"I have to get back to work, Titus."

"I don't want this conversation to end."

"Real world, T. Remember?"

"Let's go swimming."

"I can't. I have to finish my work."

"No, you don't. You don't have to do anything. Silas will never know."

"My conscience will. I can't live with that. I have integrity."

"I know. It kinda turns me on."

Pedro opened his mouth to speak, but when Titus's words registered, he closed it, averting his eyes. Titus waited, and when the telltale blush confirmed his suspicions, he felt giddy.

"Come on, P. Please. No funny business. I swear. The kids'll be out soon, anyway."

"Oh, yes. I can hear them now. Daddy, why is this man in the pool with us? The gardener ."

Titus grinned at the emphasis on Tucker's poor choice of words. "Kids don't care, P. You know that."

"What about Roz?"

Titus paused, eyes lifting with ponder. "Now, that may take some explaining."

"No, it won't. Because it's not happening. It's too soon. Too many questions. Too many eyes."

Titus didn't press. He knew for sure himself that word would not travel with Roz beyond the gate. But he could see that Pedro was uneasy with the idea, and the last thing in the world he wanted was for him to feel uncomfortable.

"I want to," Pedro continued. Now, it was him struggling for words. "I too have… feelings… for you. But I need to finish up here. I have to have the truck back before six."

"Then how about tonight? You could come over for a swim. Just us."

He squeezed softly at Pedro's hands, puppy-dog eyes pleading, big and hopeful like a child. Pedro's heart fluttered.

"I can give you a passcode for the gate," he added. "Do you have a personal vehicle? If not, I'll pick you up."

"I do. But I thought you said you never leave."

"Not much. For groceries, occasionally, but mostly Roz does that too. I try to avoid people."

"This is not like some old fairy tale, is it—where you only exist inside the fence?"

"No. Well, maybe. Staying home helps people keep their image of me." He began massaging Pedro's palms again. "But for someone as good-looking as you, I think I might be willing to venture out more."

"You, my friend, are the handsome one. I keep a low profile as well. Should we be seen, there would be problems, for me at least."

"I would never let that happen," Titus said.

"I believe you. I do. It's others I don't trust, especially in town. Maybe elsewhere it's different. I don't know. California?"

"No idea. I was born and raised here. I've never crossed the state line—so you're a leg up on me travel-wise. I did have hopes for Clinton's election—but with the whole don't ask, don't tell thing, I've given up on him."

"You have the advantage there. I cannot vote."

"One day."

"And we're not only gay men. I'm a Mexican. Some people would hold that against you more."

"Fuck people. It's none of their business."

Pedro chortled, shaking his head.

"What?" Titus asked.

"It's just…" He sighed dramatically. "It's very Capulets and Montagues."

"I don't follow."

"I mentioned Shakespeare earlier. In Romeo and Juliet, their families—the Capulets and Montagues—were keeping them apart."

Titus caught on. "Only instead of families here, it's the town—people, politics, prejudice."

"Yes," Pedro said. "Like in West Side Story."

"I've seen that. It's very romantic."

"It's very sad."

"Let's not let it happen then." Titus's smile returned, energized. "Meet me here tonight. The passcode for the gate is BT23."

Pedro repeated the code.

"Yeah. Big T twenty-three. Twenty-three was my jersey number."

"I see."

"So, you'll come? Say seven-thirty?"

Titus waited for an answer, hopeful.

"Yes," Pedro said finally. "I'll be here. I will swim with you, o secretive one… safe behind your locked gates."

Titus lifted Pedro's hands to his lips and kissed them gently, like a child with a flower.

"Thank you," he said.

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