7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Jeff

O ne hour later, Jeff was standing knee-deep in trash, surrounded by even more trash, searching for a sixty-year-old piece of costume jewelry. Why? Because he had a crush on Gary Goddamn Graham. Worse, he wanted Gary to like him too. Not romantically, necessarily. Or even sexually. Because, fuck, there wasn’t a chance of that—Gary had never even hinted that he wasn’t straight—and, hell, even if there was a chance that Gary was into men, Jeff couldn’t ever pursue him. He couldn’t let himself risk hurting the chipper man from the radio.

No, Jeff was illegally rifling through half-frozen, half-decomposing piles of refuse simply because he wanted Gary to like him enough to spend more time with him. And, God help him, some stupid part of him was having fun with it too.

What. The. Fuck.

“Oh, wow!” Gary exclaimed, causing Jeff to turn. Gary kicked a box of crackers over to him, one that looked like it had been chewed on by a rodent of some sort. “Ratz Crackers!”

“Ratz Crackers,” Jeff repeated, his monotone voice sounding faraway before a long-forgotten memory kicked him in the teeth. “Holy shit!”

“So, you remember those spoof trading cards too?” Gary asked.

“I, uh, yeah. I had a few. I think. ”

Gary was obviously tickled by this, which made Jeff’s chest flutter and warm in the most pathetic way possible. He was so hopelessly into Gary Graham.

“Weakies, Quacker Oats...” Gary started rattling them off.

“Jail-O,” Jeff offered.

“Right!” Gary said, his excitement crashing into Jeff and fueling Jeff’s own excitement too.

While they searched for a few moments more, Gary was still smiling this huge, silly smile. And it was really stupidly cute—so cute that if Gary kept it up, Jeff thought he’d probably explode or implode or maybe even spontaneously combust. But then, before Jeff could meet such an untimely, violent end in a heap of refuse, Gary sighed very loudly and said, “I’m never finding that necklace, huh?”

And it was like a knife to Jeff’s heart.

“Probably not,” Jeff said, forcing himself to be honest.

Gary sat dejectedly in the trash pile he’d been standing on, staring off into the distance, and Jeff came over and sat beside him. As soon as he plopped onto the heap, a fresh puff of rotting detritus wafted into the air, and he had to fight the urge to retch. Jesus Christ, it smelled so terrible out here. Who knew what kinds of diseases they might have picked up looking through this shit.

“Thanks for searching with me,” Gary said quietly. “I didn’t expect you to do that.”

“Not like I was busy.” Fuck, Jeff, try to sound a little less like an asshole. “I, uh, I had fun.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Gary said, and this time, he was laughing. “Geez, what sarcasm. I never said you had to come look with me, you know.”

“No, I’m not... I’m not trying to be...” Jeff closed his eyes to try to force the words to come. “I mean it. I liked hanging out with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re funny. Sometimes.”

“I’m funny sometimes,” Gary repeated with a wry smile. “Wow, you sure know how to make a man feel special.”

Jeff snorted, his heart thudding from Gary’s tease. “I know.” Without thinking, Jeff moved a hand through his hair, and as soon as he did, he remembered how fucking filthy he was. His face contorted into a grimace. “Ugh, shit.”

Gary burst out laughing, and the sound had Jeff’s heart soaring, even as blood rushed to his cheeks. Hearing Gary so happy was maybe worth him having moved literal garbage through his hair.

After a moment, Gary said, “Hey, you never tried one of those cookies the other day. If you drop me back off at home, I’ll bring one out for you.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Seconds passed. Some birds—crows, maybe?—cawed overhead.

Then, with a voice that was low and full of sorrow, one that sounded so completely unlike the infamous Gary Graham of WKbr, Gary said, “Do you have memories you’d rather forget, Jeff?”

“Many,” Jeff responded, not even missing a beat.

“Yeah, me too.”

Apparently, that knife that had become lodged in Jeff’s chest earlier was still there, only now Gary’s words were twisting it—turning it this way and then that—and Jeff had to shut his eyes to block out the painful rush of empathy.

When he opened his eyes, Gary was staring into the sea of trash heaps again. He let out a long breath and said, “I haven’t been sleeping very well lately. Just can’t stop thinking of certain things. Do you know how that is?”

Did he ever. Jeff couldn’t even find the words to answer .

Gary seemed to catch on even though Jeff hadn’t managed to confirm it.

“I’m sorry,” Gary said. “That you know how it is, I mean.”

Jeff only shrugged.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Gary pushed himself up.

“Well, let’s head back. I need to take a shower and incinerate these clothes before it’s time for Tell Me S’more .”

Jeff hopped to his feet too and started toward his car. “Come on, radio man.”

Gary followed. Garbage squelched and crunched under their feet, and the moment they were inside Jeff’s car, both men rolled their windows down. Neither of them talked while Jeff pulled out of the landfill site.

When they were about halfway to Gary’s house, Gary broke the silence with a short laugh. “I might suggest selling your car for parts now that we’ve infused the interior with our stench,” he started, laughing again, “but I’m not sure that’s really feasible. Who would ever buy something that smells remotely as bad as either of us right now?” Gary sniffed his own shirt and recoiled. “Ooo-eee. I think that single whiff burnt my nose hair off. Completely obliterated the follicles. No future trimming required.”

Gary and his silly comments. Stupidly cute, that Gary Goddamn Graham. When Jeff rolled to a stop, the two of them locked eyes.

“Really, I can’t believe you came with me,” Gary said sincerely. “What a trip this was.”

Yeah, it was probably strange that Jeff had stayed.

“I clean toilets and mop up puke for a living,” Jeff said, trying to keep his voice neutral. “Smells this bad, they never bother me. ”

Well, that was a lie. But making sure that Gary wouldn’t feel bad that they’d both probably contracted some new form of leprosy seemed more important than being truthful.

“Alright, well, I’ll be right back with that cookie,” Gary said as he exited the car, the happy hitch returning to his voice.

And Jeff really hoped he was the one responsible for it.

Strumming his fingers on the steering wheel, Jeff watched as Gary jogged toward the house and disappeared inside. Would he and Gary ever spend time together again? Or was this it? Would their temporary almost-friendship end with the trip to the landfill? Damn, what a depressing thought that was. But it was probably right. Gary liked to keep busy. And the two of them were pretty much each other’s opposite too. Still...

Jeff tore his eyes away from Gary’s house and looked out through the open car window toward the sky. Could you wish on stars even when the sun was preventing you from seeing them? Because Jeff really wanted to see Gary again. Even if nothing sexual or romantic ever happened between the two of them, Gary was such a nice person to spend time with. He had that comforting voice. He was easy— too easy, really—on the eyes. And he had that stupid sense of humor that Jeff was starting to like for some reason.

Continuing to strum his fingers on the wheel, Jeff heaved a sigh. He’d probably never stop liking Gary. Worse, he wasn’t even sure that he wanted to.

Gary emerged from his house with a bag of cookies not more than a couple of minutes later. He opened the passenger side door and tossed the bag onto the seat.

“I swear to you, I washed my hands before I touched them,” he said.

Jeff smirked. “I figured.”

“Well, see ya, Jeff,” Gary said. He grinned, now seeming much more like his usual chipper self. “I think I’ll hold off showering until my sister arrives, which should be in five minutes or so. If she sees that I risked my health trying to retrieve that necklace, I think she might forgive me for tossing it in the trash. Maybe.”

“Good luck with that,” Jeff said with a short nod.

After returning the nod, Gary shut the car door.

And Jeff went home to be alone.

***

Later that night, once Jeff had finished scrubbing the stink of rotting trash from his skin, he mixed himself a whiskey sour and climbed into bed to listen to WKbr. Throwing back a third of his cocktail in one swig, Jeff’s stomach clenched, not from the burn of the liquor, but from the knowledge that he needed to figure out some other way to cope with the lonely nights and painful memories of Don. Otherwise, he’d end up fucking up what was left of his life.

Blowing out a breath, he set the tumbler on the nightstand and turned his focus to the radio. While Gary relayed some of the local news, Jeff lay back on the mattress and let himself become lost in his crush’s soothing voice. Over the next few minutes, he let his mind wander, not even really irritated by the last terrible song that Gary threw on the program, and then, once it was nearly eleven, Jeff’s stomach started to churn from unease. Because soon, Tell Me S’more would be over, and then Jeff would have to switch off the radio and face those haunting memories.

“ Okay, folks, we’re near the end of our program here. I wanted to leave you all with one more interesting factoid, only this time, I thought I’d stray from the food-related commentary to talk about one of the most beloved singers ever to walk this earth — Bing Crosby!”

Turning his face toward the clock radio, Jeff arched a curious eyebrow.

“Now, I’m not sure how many of you know this, but Bing Crosby was born Larry Lillis Crosby on the third of May in...”

Uh, what the fuck? Bing’s birth name was Harry, not Larry. Why the hell would Gary stray from bullshit food facts to talk about one of Jeff’s favorite singers only to mess up one of the most basic facts about him?

While Gary was still blathering away, Jeff pushed himself up on his elbows, and his eyes found the phone on the other side of the room. Did Gary want Jeff to correct him? Did Gary... want Jeff to call ? Jeff’s entire body thrummed excitedly from the thought.

By the time Jeff’s feet hit the floor, Gary’s program had come to a close. He reached back to switch off the radio and then went to retrieve the phone. Even with the telephone wire being fairly long, Jeff couldn’t make it reach the bed, and so, he set the phone base on the shaggy brown carpet and proceeded to toss his blanket and pillow beside it.

Sitting cross-legged, Jeff called Gary’s number. It rang twice.

“Hello?”

Jeff let out a huff and said, “You were trying to make me call you.”

“I’m sorry, who is this?” Gary asked, a playful hitch in his voice.

“Billy.”

“Oh! Billy! I was wondering if you’d call.”

“Bing’s real name was Harry, not Larry.”

“Really?!” God, Gary was so obviously full of shit. “Shucks, I had no idea.”

Scoffing in a manner that probably sounded a little irate, though hopefully a little playful too, Jeff said, “You knew. ”

“You can’t prove that.”

“You’re a real bastard.”

Gary laughed one of those maddeningly cute laughs of his. “Gee, well, now that we’re on the phone, we might as well keep talking, right?”

Now unable to stifle a smile, Jeff reclined back to rest his head on his pillow and pulled the blanket up to his chest, forgetting his earlier worries.

“Guess so.”

“Good,” Gary said. “So, what’s your favorite Crosby song? Don’t tell me it’s ‘White Christmas.’”

“No, it’s, uh, ‘A Man and His Dream.’”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Just...” Great, something he’d probably never be able to put into words. “I like the sentiment.”

“Do you have a lifelong dream, then?”

“Not really.” Fucking liar, that was what he was. He had the most pathetic, most predictable dream possible: to fall in love and buy an overpriced house in the suburbs. “What about you?”

“Running a radio station was mine. Not so much the teaching.”

“Teaching?”

“Yeah, I teach a few math courses. Intro ones. You know, the classes that primarily exist to weed out the kids who won’t be able to handle their eventual science or engineering coursework.”

Jeff scrunched up his face. Gary Graham was a math teacher?

“Really? Math?”

“Calculus.”

“ You?! ”

“Now, why’s that so hard to believe?”

“I’ve only ever known you as the radio man with the bad music.”

Gary scoffed into the phone. “Wow. Thanks. Well, I play fewer bad records as a teacher. I tend toward math humor instead of food humor too.”

“Math humor? Wow, your students probably hate you.”

“Eh, I think they tolerate me okay. I make my exams pretty easy.”

“Why math?”

“Math’s easy for me. I wanted something easy.” Jeff found himself smiling even more. Not only was Gary Graham really fucking cute, but he was smart too. “I’d have probably taught high school if I hadn’t weaseled my way into being permitted to teach a couple of these college courses each year. But then I wouldn’t have had the time for the radio. And the radio by itself, well, I’d never make enough money with such limited hours. I’d have had to work from sunup to sundown. Now, I know it may not seem like it, but being a radio show personality takes a lot out of me. Twelve or more hours of that each day by myself? I’d be burning the candle at both ends. Or, hell, tossing the whole stick into the fire. I tell ya, I wouldn’t last a week .”

It was nice to listen to Gary talk about himself for a change. Jeff liked listening to Gary talk about real shit, not just filling up his radio time with something inane, like what’s better on a hot dog—cheese or mustard? He wanted to keep listening to the real Gary Graham talk about his real life.

“What’s teaching like?” Jeff asked, hoping Gary’d take the bait and open up some more so that Jeff could listen to him ramble in that radio-ready voice of his.

And, thankfully, that was exactly what happened. Gary launched into a monologue—one with a lot of silly interjections like “boy howdy”—and Jeff was plenty happy to close his eyes and listen. Gary had a surprising amount to say about teaching. He seemed to like it, which had the strange consequence of making Jeff’s chest warm and tingly, like maybe... maybe he was happy for Gary’s happiness.

Then Gary started talking about the radio station, and how his dream had been to start up a station of his own, be his own boss, that sort of thing. He wanted people to like him, to count on him, to appreciate him. More than that, though, he wanted to feel connected to everyone in town.

Jeff smiled to himself. Must be nice, chasing your passion, and then, fuck, really reaching it. Holding it. Having it. What must that have been like? For your wants to become haves ? Over the last couple of years, Jeff had been chasing storms whenever he could take the time off to travel, and yet, it wasn’t really the storms he had been trying to reach. Because as much as he enjoyed seeing the tornadoes, storm chasing was something that calmed him, that helped him cope with what was happening in his head.

What he really wanted, he’d probably never have.

For the next two hours, he and Gary continued to talk on the phone. About music. And math. And movies. Nothing important, really. And yet...

God, it was wonderful.

After they hung up, Jeff scrambled back up into his bed, taking the pillow and blanket with him, and as soon as he was comfortable, his hand found his half-hard cock. Thinking of Gary’s bright-green eyes and that big fucking smile of his, it wasn’t long before Jeff was completely erect. After pushing his briefs past his knees, he started to stroke himself in earnest, losing himself to fantasy. He thought about what Gary might look like beneath him. Running his hand up his shaft, Jeff imagined what it’d be like to finger him, to watch Gary lose himself to pleasure. He wanted to make Gary come for him, and then he wanted to kiss him and touch him and make him hard again. And then, God , he wanted to fuck him, to make him come a second time, and he wanted to make it so incredible that Gary’d still beg for more.

Closing his eyes, Jeff tried to imagine Gary saying the things he so badly wanted to hear.

“ Geez, Jeff, you’re so fucking good.”

He moved his hand faster, his toes starting to curl.

“ Harder, Jeff. Make me come.”

With a low moan, Jeff came over his fist. Calming from his orgasm, he lay staring at the ceiling, breathing ragged, feeling like complete and utter shit. Because no matter how much he liked Gary, they’d never be anything more than what they already were.

***

Two weeks later, in the middle of March, Jeff was nursing a beer while listening to Gary’s radio program. Only two minutes were left before the end of the show. Soon, Gary would share some kind of bullshit factoid—one he knew Jeff would have to correct him on—and then Jeff would call. Both of them knew this was a game. But that was fine. Whatever kept them talking.

“Folks, would you believe that Trumbull County hasn’t ever had a tornado before?”

Christ, Gare, there was one less than ten years ago. What a lazy try this was. Still, Jeff couldn’t stifle a smile. As soon as the program ended, he called Gary.

“Hello?”

“Lazy.”

“Wow, I’ve never had a telemarketer insult me before. I’ll have to report this to someone.” Pause. “Say, Jeff, who would I report you to? Do telemarketers have to follow some sort of standard like us radio producers?”

“Trumbull County had a tornado in ’78.”

“Yeah, I know. I remember it. Wasn’t very big, though.”

“Don’t you care about your credibility?” Jeff teased.

“Who else, besides you, listens to my closing lines? It’s eleven!”

“Why are you on so late?”

“Eh, mostly to keep busy. I can squeeze in a couple of ads too. Discounted because of the hour, of course.”

“I help keep you busy now, though.”

“That you do,” Gary said before Jeff heard him let out a long and exaggerated sigh. “Sorry. Just relaxing on the love seat. Phone barely reaches. I think I need a longer cord.”

“Yeah, mine can’t even reach the bed. I’m on the floor.”

“I think a shopping trip is in order.”

“Sure. Why not?”

Jeff’s chest was tingling with that fucking warmth again, like it always did whenever Gary suggested that they spend more time together in person. Which hadn’t happened much. Mostly, they were only phone friends. It was probably better this way, though, because Jeff could have a little privacy with his crush. Gary had a tendency to make him smile too much.

“Do you think we’ll ever see a tornado here like the ones you see out west?” Gary asked.

“Eh, probably not,” Jeff said. His Goddamn cheeks were starting to hurt from the incessant smiling. “Which is really fucking fortunate because this house doesn’t have a basement.”

“Wow! I thought every house had a basement.”

“Nope.”

“Geez, well, I’m happy we’re so far east, then,” Gary said. “So, how was work?”

“It was okay,” Jeff said. “Someone smeared shit on a changing table.”

“Boy, I bet that was fun to clean,” Gary said through a laugh. “Very impolite, you know, of that baby not to think of the poor custodial workers.”

Jeff laughed a bit. “Uh, I’m mad at the mom, not the baby.”

“Don’t ruin the fun. It’s much more fun to blame the baby.”

“I think you have issues.”

“Yeah, probably.”

Through a chuckle, Jeff asked, “How was school?”

“Not bad. I think one of my students has a crush on me, though.”

Jealousy twisted in Jeff’s stomach. And, fuck, what a stupid reaction that was.

“Oh?”

“Her name is Lisa.”

Lisa. She sounded terrible.

“Do you like her?” Jeff asked, even though he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.

“Uh, no. I mean, she’s my student.”

Jeff fiddled with the phone cord, twirling it between his fingers.

“But you would,” he said, “if she wasn’t.”

As soon as the words left Jeff’s mouth, he squeezed his eyes shut, like he maybe could hide from Gary’s answer, and then every single muscle in his body tensed, bracing for the inevitable heartbreak to come. Why hadn’t he been able to stop himself from saying that?

“Oh . . .” Gary paused, and Jeff’s stomach tightened. “No. Jeff, I . . . uhm . . . my interests lie elsewhere.”

Stomach still in knots, Jeff sucked in a breath. Was Gary saying what Jeff thought he was saying?

Gary cleared his throat and said, “You know . . . uh . . . men?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck .

“Uh...” Dammit. Now Jeff kind of wanted to be honest too. “Mine too,” he sputtered. “I mean, my interests lie elsewhere too.”

“Oh.”

Uncomfortable silence followed while Jeff’s heart thundered in his chest.

“Do you . . . have a boyfriend?” Gary asked.

“No,” Jeff said. “I haven’t had one in... in years.”

“Me neither. I haven’t even been with someone for... yeah, it’s, uhm, it’s been a long time. Embarrassingly long, really, so I’ll spare you the specifics. But I’ve been... okay with my, uh, my forced celibacy. I mean, everything with the, uhm, the virus that’s on the news...”

Jeff’s heart sank, some of his earlier nervousness subsiding, only to be replaced by unease. He swallowed hard. While Jeff hadn’t personally known anyone who had passed from AIDS, it wasn’t as though he’d been unaffected by the news coverage. It was still fucking sad and terrifying to think about.

“Yeah, I... feel the same way,” he said.

Silence. Depressing and horrible silence. Damn.

Finally, after another moment, Gary said, “Sorry to bring that up. Just... I think about it sometimes, you know?”

“Yeah,” Jeff said before clearing his throat. “Me too.”

Even more silence. Christ, how could they move on from this?

Eventually, Gary spoke again, his voice tentative. “What’s your type? If you were to... want to be with someone, I mean.”

Well, that was one way to move past it. Jeff’s heart started thumping wildly again, and now he could barely focus through the whoosh, whoosh, whoosh of blood rushing past his eardrums.

“Uh . . .”

“Just asking,” Gary said.

Jeff’s mind was scrambling to come up with a way to answer. He kind of wanted to say that Gary was his type, but that wasn’t really true. Gary was the opposite of his type. Jeff typically went for bigger men, men who looked like they worked out. Gary was, what, maybe five foot ten? Probably shorter. He wasn’t very built either. But, Christ, he was cute. Silly too. Smart. Funny. Kind. Besides the physical, there weren’t even other similarities to his previous boyfriends or crushes either. Because before Gary, Jeff’s crushes had been...

Assholes.

Jeff scrunched up his nose.

“I’m not sure I have one,” Jeff settled on instead of confessing that he sort of did have a type, only it was a shitty one. Maybe it wasn’t his type anymore, but it still bothered him to think about it now. “What about you?”

“I’m not sure if I have a type either. And I have so little time for romance anyway. I’m plenty busy with the radio station. So...” Gary huffed an uncomfortable-sounding laugh. “Yeah, it’s just me and my hand over here.”

God , that image. Blood was rushing to Jeff’s nether regions from the mere thought of Gary touching himself. All sorts of shit started running through his mind. Questions like What’s Gary’s cock look like? , What’s Gary into? , and Does he whack off in the morning or the evening? Or both? Squirming, Jeff readjusted his pants. They’d suddenly become way too tight.

“Sorry,” Gary said. “I was trying to be funny. Or, well, I’m not sure. Boy, what a stupid comment that was. Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Uncomfortably hard was more like it.

“Yeah, I...” Jeff shifted his hips. Okay, he wanted—no, needed —to touch himself, and he couldn’t very well make himself come with Gary on the other end of the line. “I’m not uncomfortable. Just, uh, tired. I touch myself plenty too.”

Jesus, what the fuck, Jeff ?

Gary cleared his throat again. Christ, how awkward this conversation was now.

“Wow, well, okay then,” Gary spluttered.

Jeff covered his reddening face with his free hand.

“Good night, Gare.”

“Night?”

Quickly, Jeff placed the receiver on its base, and somehow, it only took a few seconds for him to push past his lingering embarrassment enough so that he could finish himself to the thought of Gary Graham masturbating.