17. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Jeff

E ven though it was the middle of the afternoon on a Thursday, Jeff had somehow managed to convince Gary to come with him to Newton Falls to meet up with Brandon. He hadn’t seen Brandon much lately outside of their shifts at the mall. When he and Gary pulled up to Brandon’s house, he was already waiting outside smoking, and he hurried over while Jeff put the car in park. After opening the back door, Brandon flicked the butt of his cigarette onto the pavement.

“Alright, Jeff Russo,” he said as he slid into the back seat. “Drive.”

“I thought we were hanging out here,” Jeff said, crooking an eyebrow.

“Nah, that’s boring. Let’s visit the bar.”

Jeff’s next breath caught, nervousness pressing on his chest.

Brandon leaned forward and smacked Jeff’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “ Not O’Henry’s.”

Swallowing hard, Jeff forced a nod, though he still wasn’t sure he was okay with Brandon’s plan for their afternoon.

“O’Henry’s?” Gary asked.

“Ah, yeah, that’s where Don likes to hang out,” Brandon said. “But we’ll try The Buckeye. I’ve been there a bunch of times, and I’ve never seen Don there before. Remember when you came out with me a couple months back? And I promised we wouldn’t see Don? ”

With a roll of his eyes, Jeff nodded once more.

“Well, I kept my word, huh? I’m telling you, Jeff, he only ever spends time at O’Henry’s.” Brandon looked over at Gary. “Don’s broke, and his cousin owns O’Henry’s, so...”

“Free booze,” Jeff finished for him.

“So, can we try The Buckeye or what?” Brandon asked.

Chewing on his bottom lip, Jeff looked over at Gary, who just shrugged.

“Jeff, it’s up to you,” he said. “But if you’re uncomfortable...”

Shame began to burn beneath Jeff’s skin. Dammit, this was pathetic, wasn’t it? He couldn’t let Don win . Jesus, he needed to be able to visit a bar .

“Yeah, yeah, we can go,” Jeff relented, trying to ignore the pit that had come to settle in his stomach.

Brandon’s face lit up. “Great.”

“Uh...” Gary shifted in his seat. He was looking at Jeff like... like he thought Jeff might break. “Or, well, I’m not really a bar person.”

Gary Goddamn Graham trying to save him.

“Well, then you can be our ride home,” Brandon said.

“No!” Jeff blurted out, remembering the horror of the stop-and-start back in Oklahoma. “God, no. I’ll... I’ll stay sober.” Even though a couple of beers or a whiskey cocktail would really help settle his nerves. “You two have fun. Drink your faces off.”

“I still have my radio show later,” Gary said.

Smirking, Jeff said, “Gare, it’s radio. You have no need for your face.”

“Very funny, Jeffrey.”

“Time’s a-wastin’, fellas,” Brandon said from the back.

“Seat belt,” Gary chided.

Brandon scoffed. “What a bummer this is turning out to be. ”

He still put on his seat belt, though. Brandon was pretty much a pushover.

So, Jeff took them to The Buckeye, a bar that had a couple of billiards tables and popcorn as a bar snack, rather than nuts. The moment they went inside, he found himself relaxing a bit. No Don. Don wouldn’t be here. Brandon was sure of it, and he trusted Brandon.

Brandon ordered some silly cocktail Jeff had never even heard of, Jeff ordered a beer—which he’d have to nurse for the entirety of their visit because there was no way in hell Brandon wouldn’t be three sheets to the wind within the hour—and Gary ordered a whiskey sour. When the bartender walked away, Jeff looked to Gary and cocked a curious eyebrow.

“ You ordered a whiskey sour?” he asked.

“Hey now, I’ve had whiskey before. I made myself a whiskey lemonade once.”

“Whiskey lemonade,” Jeff repeated. “Not exactly the same as a whiskey sour.”

“I’ll be honest, it was mostly lemonade.”

“Gare, be careful.”

“I know my limits.”

“If you end up on your ass—”

Brandon cut in, “Isn’t that what you’d want though, Jeffrey ?”

Jeff leveled a look. “Bran, that nickname is not yours to use.”

“Ugh.” Brandon scoffed dramatically. “You stay friends with someone for over twenty years, and this is how he treats you.”

With a slight roll of his eyes, Jeff turned back to Gary. “Sorry. Again,” Jeff mumbled.

“I like him,” Gary said. “He’s interesting.”

Brandon said, “I’m right here, you know. ”

“Did you hear something?” Jeff asked Gary, and Brandon shoved him lightly from behind in response. Jeff looked back over his shoulder. “Dick.”

After the bartender returned with their drinks, the three of them claimed a pool table. Brandon and Jeff played while Gary watched. In the course of an hour, Gary not only finished his first-ever whiskey sour but also ordered a second one. Jeff couldn’t really understand why. Gary kept making a weird face every single time he took a sip, like he just couldn’t get used to the taste. Maybe he just wanted to fit in? Jeff hoped that wasn’t the reason, but he didn’t know what else to think.

Shortly after Gary finished his second cocktail, Jeff chugged the last of his beer, which had become lukewarm and therefore tasted like ass (and not in a pleasant way). Since it was Brandon’s turn at pool and Jeff didn’t trust Gary’s lack of sobriety, Jeff volunteered to take their empty glasses to the bar counter. He gathered them up, headed over to the bar, and set them at an empty spot on the counter for the bartender. Then he turned to start back toward the pool table, thinking to himself how the outing had been going surprisingly well.

And just as the thought formed in his head, he spotted a familiar black-and-orange letterman jacket out of the corner of his eye, and his stomach sank to the floor.

Don.

God, how could he still be wearing that? After so many years?

The sounds of conversation fell away, and soon the only thing Jeff could hear was the whooshing of blood past his eardrums as his heart thundered in his chest. Don saw him almost right away, almost like he’d already known Jeff was there or like... he’d been watching Jeff for a while. Then Don’s eyes narrowed, and a smirk settled across his face as he started in Jeff’s direction. In seconds, his hulking six-foot-and-change frame was looming over Jeff, making him feel small and weak and pathetic. Jeff went rigid.

Folding his arms over his chest, Don looked Jeff up and down and then licked his lips like a wolf eyeing its prey. Fear rolled through Jeff’s body, making him shudder, and it took everything he had to try to hide his reaction to Don’s icy stare.

“New boyfriend?” Don asked, nodding in Gary’s direction. “Isn’t he from WKbr?”

But Jeff couldn’t make himself respond, not even with a nod.

“He is, isn’t he? I recognize that voice of his. Niles, right? I can pick up the station in my truck sometimes.”

Colorful spots started to form in front of Jeff’s eyes.

Still, he said nothing.

“What, are you scared of me now?” Don asked. After a couple more seconds of Jeff’s complete inability to form words, one side of Don’s mouth curled up into a smirk. “Jesus Christ. Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m over you.”

Don started toward the restrooms, intentionally clipping Jeff with his shoulder when he walked past, and the force made Jeff stumble back a step. He was still standing there, frozen like a fucking idiot, when Gary came over.

“Are you coming back to play? I tried to take over for you, but I have to say, I’m a pretty terrible pool player. Almost sunk the eight ball on my first shot!”

Now that Don wasn’t near him, Jeff couldn’t hold in his upset anymore. He started to tremble. Without yet having responded to Gary, Jeff looked at his now-shaking hands and squeezed them into fists. Fuck.

Finally, he managed a soft, “Gare, we need to leave.”

“What happened?” Gary asked.

Brandon came over. “Hey, whoa, was that Don Juan?”

“Yeah,” Jeff said, his voice distant and detached .

“Well, shit, let’s leave then. I won’t be able to stand looking at his stupid face.” Brandon heaved a sigh. “Fuck, Jeff, I’m sorry. I’ve really never seen him in here before.”

Gary placed a hand on the small of Jeff’s back. “Don’s the man you were talking to?”

“Yeah.”

Gary started moving his hand in small circles, and it helped ease some of the tension from Jeff’s body, though the moment he unclenched his fists, his hands began to shake again.

Jeff kind of wanted to say that he couldn’t drive, but, fuck, he was the only one who hadn’t had too much alcohol. He’d have to manage. Somehow.

“Let’s head out,” he said instead, though he only forced himself to move when Gary’s hand pressed a little stronger into his back.

By some miracle, Jeff was able to get Brandon home safely. Halfway there, his hands had stopped trembling, though it still felt like his insides were buzzing, every nerve in his body frayed like a busted telephone wire.

He took the long way back to Niles. Upset continued to hum beneath his skin.

Somehow, he managed to hold himself together the entire way. Until he and Gary were inside.

And then, the second he crossed the threshold into Gary’s radio studio, he fell to his knees, his muscles so sore it felt like he had run a marathon. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“What can I do?” Gary asked, kneeling next to him. He reached a hand toward Jeff but then stopped. “Can I touch you?”

Jeff nodded.

“Just tell me if it’s too much,” Gary added.

And the moment Gary’s fingertips touched his forearm, Jeff turned and collapsed into Gary’s arms. He rested his head on Gary’s chest, snuggling close, and when Gary wrapped his arms around him, Jeff finally felt safe. Not trapped. Not fearful. Safe.

“Jeffrey,” Gary whispered, stroking Jeff’s hair. “I’m sorry.”

Jeff hugged Gary tighter.

“Fuck,” Jeff muttered under his breath. “I fucking hate him.”

“I know.” Gary continued to move his fingers through Jeff’s hair. “I’m here.”

Inhaling Gary’s scent, Jeff nuzzled his nose against Gary’s shirt.

“I should have...” Jeff trailed off, unsure of what he’d thought to say. Punched him? Spat in his face? Called him a name? The truth was, Jeff had been too shocked to even move . “I should have done something,” he mumbled after another moment.

“Next time we see him, I’ll punch him for you.” Gary said this with such complete and utter sincerity that Jeff started to chuckle, and soon, his entire body was shaking from laughter, every trace of upset being forcibly ejected by the feel of his muscles trembling from happiness.

“God, do you even know how to make a fist, Gare Bear?”

“Of course I know how to make a fist! I’m not sure if I’d have the oomph behind my punch to effectively hurt him, though.”

“Yeah, Don’s pretty big. I never told you that, huh?”

“No, you never told me he was The Hulk. I’d have remembered that.”

“Well, remember when you asked me if I had a type? That was my type.”

“Yikes.” Gary squeezed him. “How on earth did I manage to make you like me, then?”

“Because you’re perfect, Gare. I mean, your ass in bike shorts? Museum-worthy. DaVinci couldn’t have sculpted a better ass.”

“Yeah, but, Jeff, I’m five-foot-nine.”

Jeff squeezed one of Gary’s biceps. “Look at these muscles. Perfect. ”

“Yeah, right. I won’t be entering any bodybuilding competitions anytime soon.”

“Nope, you won’t be.” Jeff rolled over to rest the back of his head on Gary’s chest instead and pulled Gary’s arms tighter around him for a backward hug. “And it’s perfect.”

Gary kissed his head. “I really will clobber him if I ever see him here in Niles.”

“Sure, Gare.”

“Just— bam! —I’ll show him what Gary Graham is made of.”

Now Jeff was contending with a second bout of body-shaking laughter. “Stop, stop. I might piss myself.”

Lowering his voice, Gary responded with, “I don’t get no respect. No respect at all.”

Jeff cocked an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be Rodney Dangerfield?”

“Well, yeah, who else would it be?”

“I’m never letting you have whiskey again. You’re way too silly.”

“But I’m making you feel better, right?”

With a sigh and a smile, Jeff said, “Yeah, you are.”

He reached back and poked Gary in the side, causing him to yelp.

Gary scoffed and said, “No respect at all!”

And then they both lost themselves to a fit of laughter.

***

On Saturday, Jeff was listening to Gary end Tell Me S’more , readying himself for Gary’s phone call. While waiting, he glanced over at the business card sitting near the corner of his desk, and he reluctantly picked it up to study it. Earlier that evening, he’d fished it out of his wallet with the intention of throwing it in the trash, but then Gary’s voice had come on the radio and...

Frowning, he stared at the woman’s name on the card. Dr. Martha Goldstein. Psychologist.

God, he really wanted to be better. For Gary. Ever since the beginning, their physical relationship seemed to have taken on the pattern of two steps forward, one step back, and no matter how content Gary claimed he was, Jeff knew that he wanted more. Because what boyfriend wouldn’t? Gary needed a real boyfriend. One who could be intimate with him. Sure, maybe mutual masturbation was a type of intimacy, but they needed to move beyond it.

He needed to move beyond it.

Still, Jeff wasn’t really sure how talking to some stranger would help. Could he even talk to a stranger? He hadn’t even shared the story with Gary. Yet. Christ, he wasn’t even sure he’d ever be able to share it with Gary.

Knowing Gary might be able to picture what had happened...

Jeff’s stomach soured, bile creeping up his throat. Fuck that. He’d never be able to stand the thought that Gary might see him that way.

Jeff startled from the sound of the phone ringing.

After a second ring, he picked up.

“Hey, Gare.”

“How’d you know it was me?” Gary teased.

“Yeah, you’re right, it could have been one of my many other boyfriends who call me this close to midnight.”

“I really need to cut my hours, huh?” Gary asked. “I’ve been thinking about ending the show at ten. What’s your opinion on it?”

“Do it. ”

“Well, okay, I’ll let everyone know soon, then. Maybe tomorrow.” Gary sighed. “Ugh, tomorrow .”

“What?”

“Youngstown.”

“I’ll be with you,” Jeff reminded him.

“I know, but boy am I nervous.”

“Scared of what you might learn about him?”

“That’s part of it, yeah. I mean, he could have been a real monster.”

“What would that change?”

“Mmm... not much, maybe, but it’d be a crappy thing to learn, I think.”

“Look, if he really was that bad, it’s better that he left, right?” Jeff waited for Gary to respond, but he stayed silent, probably not quite able to believe Jeff’s statement. Maybe if Jeff shared a little about his own shitty excuse for a father, it’d help Gary see that he wasn’t the only one with poisonous roots. God, Jeff would have much rather had his father leave than suffer through so much heartache. He cleared his throat and forced out, “I mean, Gare, I’d know.”

After a couple more seconds of silence, Gary said, “What was he like? You’ve mentioned that he was horrible, that you changed your name, that sort of thing, but...” He let out a sound that was some mix between a groan and a sigh. “Sorry, I’m being nosy.”

“It’s okay. I probably should have talked about him sooner. He was—or is —a piece of shit.” Jeff laughed bitterly. “Sorry. I try to think of him in the past tense sometimes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“And it’s hard to try to pick one or two things to say that are horrible when it feels like it’s everything. Just... every bit of him is rotten. Growing up, he was a leech, and he was mean, and he was somehow never ever there when you needed him—even for little things, even to, like, hammer a Goddamn nail or something—and yet he was somehow never not making our lives hell.”

“Gosh, Jeff, I—”

“You know, Gare, for years I kept falling for men who were practically as shitty as him. Don was probably shittier. Or, yeah, I mean, I never saw that coming from him. Not really. I never...” Rage and shame ran through Jeff like lava, spiking his irritation, and he smacked the desk to let out some of that energy. “Anyway, I think my father fucked me up for a long time. Fucked up my mom too. I’m pretty positive he’s the reason she drank herself to death. Looking back, I can’t say I blame her either. I’d have been miserable with him as a husband too. So, yeah, I think we’d have been better off without him.”

As soon as Jeff was finished, he let out a deep breath, and a wave of calm spread through him as though some of his long-held tension left his body.

“Wow. I... I have no idea what to say.”

Gary’s breath shook. Loud enough that Jeff could hear it through the phone. Dammit. Had he been too blunt, too honest? He hated the thought that his own stupid past might have made Gary feel even worse. One more reason he could never tell Gary what happened with Don.

With a trembling voice, Gary said, “I wish... I wish I could have hugged little you, Jeffrey.”

Gary’s sweetness made him smile, but Gary’s uneasy tone, heavy with upset, hurt his heart. It was a silly thought—big Gary hugging little him—but Jeff kind of loved the sentiment.

He had to make Gary feel better somehow.

So, in the most playful voice he could muster, Jeff said, “Well, that’s nice, Gare, but you’d have had to call me Jimmy. ”

Immediately, Gary burst out laughing. “Jimmy,” he said through a lively chuckle, one that was making Jeff laugh too. “Jimmy! I can’t believe it!”

Gary continued to laugh. God, he was so fucking cute.

“Okay, okay,” Jeff said. “It’s not that ridiculous. It’s a normal name.”

“Sorry,” Gary said before bursting out laughing some more. “Jimmy. Jim. Jimbo.”

Now Jeff couldn’t stop laughing either.

“Gare, fuck, stop.”

“Jiminy. Jimothy. Jim-Jam.”

“Gare!”

“Okay, I’m finished,” Gary said, clearly trying to compose himself, though his voice was still colored by lingering laughter. “I think I ran out of silly nicknames anyway.”

“Thank you.”

“For stopping because I ran out of nicknames?”

“For being you.”

“Well, thank you for reminding me of your old name. I feel so much better now.”

“Anytime,” Jeff replied, his chest warm and tingly from knowing he’d made Gary smile.

Jeff really wished he could hug him.

“Thank you for telling me about your family too,” Gary said.

“I hope it helped.”

“Yeah, I feel a little better now.”

“I’ll be with you tomorrow, Gare. It’ll be okay.”

“I know. I can’t tell you how much that means to me, either,” he said. “Did talking to me help you feel better too?”

“Yeah,” Jeff said, surprised to realize that it had.

His eyes found the business card again.

Talking really had made him feel better. Somehow.