My Straight Husband by Spencer Spears
Gabe
“So let’s make sure to discuss synergistic management strategizing at the meeting with Lund and McCormick next week. They’re a VIP client, so we need to bring our A-game with them. If we win this branch over, we could be talking contracts in the millions next year, working with their international offices. Niya, you’re running point on the meeting, and Gabe, you’re on top of the PowerPoint for that, right? Gabe? Gabe!”
“Right, yeah, of course.”
I spoke quickly, trying to cover up the fact that I’d completely zoned out while Winston was talking. Jesus, how much had I missed? I scanned back over the few words that remained in my brain from what he’d been saying.
“The PowerPoint. Of course. Already done. I can send it to you now.”
It was done, thank God, which meant I didn’t have to think about it for the rest of the weekend. Our team’s last project had been management consulting for an industrial plastics company. I’d thought that work couldn’t possibly get more boring than that. I’d been wrong.
Our new client, Lund and McCormick, was a consulting firm. Doing management consulting for a management consulting company made me want to bang my head against a desk. Or, in this case, against the glass window of the taxi I was in.
“Send it to me, Gabe, if you can,” Niya chimed in. “I’ll take a look at it and I can get back to you if there are any adjustments I want you to make.”
“Sounds great!” I forced cheer into my voice. Thank God this wasn’t a video call. I didn’t think I could hide the apathy on my face. “Yeah, just let me know and I can make any changes you want.”
Please God don’t let there be any changes. I didn’t think I could stand looking at that stupid presentation again. But Niya was conscientious and detail-oriented to an extreme. I had a feeling I was going to get a five-page memo, single-spaced, laying out everything that could be improved.
Not that I blamed her. I actually liked Niya, and if she hadn’t been my boss, we’d probably have been good friends. But if she found her job as boring as I found mine, she did a way better job of hiding it. And since her work life revolved around keeping Winston and our clients happy, mine revolved around keeping her happy. Thus the endless PowerPoint revisions, late-night emails about spreadsheets, and general head-desky nature of my job.
“Excellent.” Winston’s voice was clipped and brisk, as usual. He always sounded like he had five different places to be and meetings to run, all of which were more important than talking to you, and all of which he was running late to. “Then I think that wraps it up. Talk to you soon.”
“Bye, Winston, bye, Niya.” I waited for Niya to hang up before I finally dropped my cell phone into my lap.
“Work call?” my taxi driver asked from the front seat. Her eyes were sympathetic.
“Yeah.” I sighed. “Probably not the last one I’ll have today, either.”
It pays well, it pays well, it pays well. That had become my mantra since I’d started working for Burke-Hollings-Tinsley, or BHT, as everyone called it. It might have been mind-numbingly dull, but the sooner I could move up the ranks there, the sooner I’d be able to bank enough money to quit and just travel the world.
“Hey, at least you’re somewhere beautiful, right?” The driver gave me a kind smile, and I found myself returning it. “You here for work or for pleasure?”
“Pleasure.” I grinned. I’d worked on my flight from Chicago to Savannah, and then on the ferry over to Summersea too, but just remembering what I was in town for put me in a better mood. “My friend’s wedding.”
It wasn’t every day that your friend got married and asked you to be the best man. Even if Niya ended up sending me revisions, even if I had to pull my computer out and work a little this weekend, I was going to enjoy myself, dammit. I was going to take in everything bucolic Summersea Island had to offer—even though I couldn’t imagine that would be very much.
“You couldn’t have asked for a better weekend for it,” the driver said. “Is it an outdoor wedding?”
“Yeah, basically. Mark—my friend who’s getting married—really wanted to do something outdoors, but Jesse was worried about rain. They got a tent in the end, but it looks like they won’t need it.”
“That’s funny.” The driver laughed, and I cocked an eyebrow at her. “Usually it’s the bride who’s pushy about wedding things, not the groom. I guess your friend found himself an easy-going girl.”
“What?” I blinked, confused, until I realized what had happened. “Oh, I see what you were saying. Jesse’s a guy, actually. They’re gay. Or, well, Jesse is. Mark’s bi.”
“Oh.”
The driver lapsed into silence and I wondered if she was uncomfortable—either because she was embarrassed to have interpreted Jesse’s name wrong or because she didn’t know what to say next. But what was I supposed to do, go around announcing I was going to my best friend’s gay wedding just to clear up any confusion up front?
I didn’t see why gay marriage, or being gay in general, was such a big deal to people. It wasn’t to Mark and Jesse, so why should other people care? Hell, Mark hadn’t ever dated a guy before he’d met Jesse but he hadn’t let that stop him from following his heart.
Frankly, I envied Mark. He’d moved out to Georgia to get some space while he dealt with his PTSD and he’d ended up with a fiancé, a bed and breakfast they were renovating together, and a community of people who loved him. He’d made his dreams come true by doing what he was passionate about.
That was what I was supposed to be doing. Following my dreams, living my passion. But you don’t grow up poor in rural Illinois and start living the life of a louche bohemian without putting in some serious 9-to-5 hours first. The life I wanted required money, plain and simple. Hence me working at BHT, trying to survive the soul-crushing monotony.
Five years. That was the plan. Five years of consulting until I’d built up enough of a nest egg that I could quit and travel. Go bungee jumping. Climb Mount Everest. Anything except turning into my parents, married too young and bitter about it, staying together out of sheer stubbornness, spending their entire lives in a hundred-mile radius of where they were born.
I couldn’t stand the idea of growing old without really living. Of settling, and settling down, too soon. Just thinking about it made me itch with a desire to hop on a plane and never come back. I wasn’t going to end up trapped.
The only problem was, I was beginning to wonder if I was missing my window while I worked at BHT. The plan was to save up money and then live this amazing, exciting life. But some days, it was like I could feel myself becoming more boring between the time I got up in the morning and the time I came home from work.
By the time I finally had enough money to quit and see the world, would I even want to anymore?
Was I going to become my parents by accident? Meet some girl and end up marrying her just because it would be easier than breaking up? Spend the rest of my life traveling to Chattanooga or Des Moines to tell companies how to improve their bottom line and then flying home to attend Little League games and PTA meetings?
I could just see myself, older and with a slight beer gut, excited about how many miles I was racking up and talking to other dads about which credit cards gave you the most points with the lowest annual fee while eating a casserole off a paper plate at a two-year old’s birthday party with a moon-bounce and a slip-n-slide.
Good God, I could not let that happen to me.
I ripped the image to shreds in my mind. That was unacceptable. I was not boring and I certainly wasn’t going to become boring before I’d lived a little.
I was going to a wedding this weekend, wasn’t I? I was going to have fun. I was going to drink too much, sing too loudly, and dance my face off. It wasn’t going to be a big wedding, but if I was lucky, someone was going to have a slutty cousin who I could hook up with. Not that I was desperate for a one-night stand, but I had to do something to stave off my impending death-by-dullness.
I thanked the driver as she pulled up outside my hotel and grabbed my suitcase, heading inside to check in. The room was surprisingly nice, considering that the hotel wasn’t really a hotel at all, but rather the Wisteria Inn, a local bed and breakfast. I’d sprung for one of the few rooms that had an en-suite bathroom, and the whole place had a quaint kind of charm. There was even a tray with bottled water and fresh-baked cookies, which I had to imagine would be nicer than what you got at a corporate—dammit.
It was already happening. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to start wondering whether the Wisteria Inn had a rewards program I could join. I was twenty-four years old, for Christ’s sake. I should be wasting money on stupid shit, not comparing regional hospitality choices.
I needed to get out and do something. I didn’t have a ton of time before the bachelor party tonight—bachelors’ party, really, since Mark and Jesse were doing it together—but I could at least get a run in. That always helped energize me and pick me up when I was in a funk.
It felt good to change out of the suit I’d worn on the plane and rid myself of the stale air scent that seemed to cling to it. I threw on my University of Illinois college gear and heaved a sigh of relief. I always felt more at home in gym clothes than anything else. I was just tying the laces on my running shoes when my phone buzzed from the bed where I’d tossed it.
AIDEN: FML
Well that was helpful and descriptive. I texted my brother back requesting more information.
GABE: What happened?
AIDEN: Fucking Paolo got cast in some horror movie and has to go to Slovakia for 3 months
AIDEN: Asshole decided it was the perfect time to break up with me too. Says he won’t pay the rest of the rent. I don’t have enough money to cover his half tho
AIDEN: And I have an audition tomorrow but I’m so stressed that I know I’m going to fuck it up
Fucking Paolo indeed. I’d never liked my baby brother’s boyfriend. I mean, I never liked any of his boyfriends, short-lived though his relationships tended to be, but I’d especially disliked Paolo. But now wasn’t the time to tell Aiden that.
GABE: I’m sorry, that really sucks. Wish I were there and could be a better big brother :(
AIDEN: Thanks man
GABE: Anything I CAN do?
AIDEN: Don’t think so
AIDEN: I just have to try to find a new roommate. And not a guy I want to sleep with, this time. Learned that lesson at least
AIDEN: Only problem is my apt is, as you know, a shithole. Who the hell would want to live in this dump?
GABE: It’s not that bad. It just has character. You’ll find someone
GABE: And if you don’t, I can pay the rest of your rent
AIDEN: By character do you mean it looks like someone was murdered here? Pretty sure this building should be condemned
AIDEN: And you’re not paying my rent
GABE: Just describe the decor as ‘meth lab chic’ in your Craigslist ad
AIDEN: Perfect. They’ll be banging down my door
GABE: And I am too paying your rent, if you don’t find someone. I’m serious
AIDEN: Really? I feel so crappy asking you to do that
GABE: Really. That’s what family’s for
AIDEN: Tell that to Mom and Dad :P
GABE: I know right? But seriously, don’t worry about it. Just worry about crushing your audition
AIDEN: Thanks bro
GABE: No prob
I tossed the phone back down on the bed, shaking my head as I bent to finish tying my shoes. Aiden had moved out to LA right after high school to try to make it as an actor. Our parents were…not thrilled, to say the least. One of the few things they agreed on, actually.
Aiden worked at a coffee shop and did other odd jobs too, but he still couldn’t afford to live anywhere nice. It was shitty for Paolo to break up with him and stick him with the rent like that, but I wasn’t really surprised. The guy had always seemed like a particularly pretentious prick whenever I’d visited. Work took me out to LA a few times a year, and I couldn’t say I was sorry I’d never have to see him again.
Poor Aiden. He always seemed to fall for guys who were total tools. He just couldn’t get over this fantasy in his head of getting swept off his feet by the perfect relationship.
I didn’t understand why he was in such a hurry to meet the man of his dreams. It wasn’t like our parents provided a stellar example of a loving, supportive relationship. But at least Aiden was out there, going for what he wanted. When I looked at him, actively pursuing his goals, I couldn’t help but wonder if my plan made any sense.
I walked over to the desk in the corner of the room, my footsteps muted by the thick, cream-colored rug. The inn had placed a binder of local attractions on top of the desk. I flipped it open to see if I could find any information about running trails. Maybe I could find something cool to run to and visit.
Miniature train museum? Pass. Pickle festival? Only during June. Covered bridge? Maybe if I were with my mom. As if my mom would ever be willing to get on a plane and cross state lines. Dammit, was there really nothing—oh.
Local nature trails and parks. Now that could be interesting. There was a network of trails criss-crossing the island, including one that picked up not far from the bed and breakfast where I was staying.
It looked like it started over by an elementary school and then wound its way out towards the coast after a few miles. These days I was averaging about five miles a run, but I could probably go up to seven without killing myself. And I could always catch another taxi back to the Wisteria, couldn’t I?
Within a minute, I was out the door. I found myself smiling as soon as I hit the streets. It always felt like a release after a long day at work to go for a run, and after being on planes for most of today, this was just what I needed.
Once, I’d thought about asking for a treadmill desk back at the office. But I traveled so much and worked from home half the time that I wasn’t traveling that it wouldn’t really make sense. Besides, asking for something special like that from HR felt like I was admitting defeat—that I was surrendering to the idea of staying at BHT permanently.
I followed the route I’d memorized through town until I reached Adair Elementary, the school near the trailhead. I could see a bunch of trees poking up over the far side of the building. That had to be where the running path began.
I jogged forward, listening to shrieks of laughter emanating from what must have been a playground behind the school. There was a guy locking up his bike, a few cars parked in the parking lot, and—wait. Where the hell was the path?
As far as I could tell, the path was supposed to begin at the parking lot, but I couldn’t see a way into the dense thicket of woods that adjoined it, just an unbroken line of trees. I could have sworn the map said this was where it started, though, so where the fuck had it gone? I put my hands on my hips and spun around in a slow circle, confused.
“Looking for the path?”
I turned and looked at the sound of the voice behind me. The guy with the bike was looking at me and pointing off to my right. I stared at him in surprise. How had he known I was lost? Had he been watching me?
No, that was dumb. He was probably just being helpful. There was no reason to assume he was watching me with any special interest. Though if he had been, I had to say, I was flattered.
He was a good-looking dude. Even I could see that. A bit taller than I was, light brown hair, tiny bit of facial scruff, wearing a natty cardigan and ripped jeans. Suddenly, I felt like an idiot in my bright orange Fighting Illini t-shirt and shorts. A sweaty idiot.
“Uh, yeah.” I smiled to cover up my embarrassment. “The map said there was supposed to be a running trail that started here? It goes into the woods or something?”
This was dumb. He wasn’t looking at me for any particular reason, and it wouldn’t matter if he were. There was no reason to be embarrassed.
“A hundred feet behind you. Right next to that little maintenance shed. The path picks up on the far side of it and then goes into the woods.”
I looked in the direction the guy pointed. I hadn’t even noticed that shed before. Well, at least I wasn’t crazy.
“Thanks, bro!” I called out. Weird. My voice sounded higher-pitched than usual. Almost like I was nervous. But there was nothing I should be nervous about, was there? “See ya!”
I turned and got out of there before the guy could respond. No reason to stand around and make myself look even more awkward. Might as well save a little dignity while I could.
Why did that guy make me nervous? I turned the question over in my mind as I found the path by the far end of the shed and ducked into the slightly cooler shade of the woods. Dappled sunlight filtered through the broad leaves of the trees, casting green shadows all around me.
There was no reason for me to be nervous. No reason to care what he thought of me at all. Unless…
But no.
It couldn’t be that I...
No.
At least, I didn’t think that I…
Right?
The fact of the matter was that I’d never been with a guy before. But it wasn’t like I hadn’t thought about it. You don’t grow up with a little brother who comes out at an early age without wondering if you might swing that way too. But I’d always figured that if I did, I would have felt something for one of my guy friends by now.
Maybe I’d written the idea off too soon, though. I remembered when Mark first told me about falling for Jesse, a little part of me had been envious. Not of Mark—I’d never wanted him that way. But I’d been sad, somehow, that he was trying something I might never get a chance to.
What if this were my chance? It was a wedding weekend, dammit. Maybe what I should look for was someone’s slutty gay cousin. Or a hot-but-emotionally-distant bisexual uncle. Or hell, even just a sexually curious random guy like myself.
I mean, I’d hooked up with plenty of women in my life. I hadn’t been looking for a relationship with any of them. I had no interest in hurting someone when I inevitably ended things, no interest in settling down yet. And I’d never felt a spark, a tug that told me, ‘She’s the one. Stop what you’re doing, change all your plans, your life now revolves around her.’
That had been just fine with me. It meant I could stick to my plan. But what if I’d never felt that tug because I’d never feel it for any woman I was with?
Technically speaking, how could I know that I wouldn’t feel something stronger for a guy, if I never gave it a chance? And what if I were missing out on some element of the human experience by never trying things with a man? Who knew, maybe it would blow my mind.
I brought Bicycle Guy back to the front of my brain, pictured myself running into him here in the forest, maybe making out as we leaned up against a tree trunk. Something in the pit of my stomach tightened at the thought. Nerves? Excitement? I didn’t know.
The whole idea was crazy. Finding some random dude to hook up with at Mark and Jesse’s wedding. Absurd. And yet I couldn’t get it out of my head.
It was stupid. Trying to hook up with a guy just because I could was a little weird. More than weird. It sounded insane, the more I thought about it. I wasn’t even sure I’d actually be able to go through with it, if I tried. I might hate it. I might regret it utterly.
But there was one thing, at least, I was sure of.
It wouldn’t be boring.