My Straight Husband by Spencer Spears
Gabe
Iwatched Brooklyn spin his beer bottle around in a circle on the wooden surface of the bar, worn smooth by years of patrons doing the same thing. The room was dimly lit, packed with bodies, and I could barely see him through the sea of people between us. But I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
We were back at the bar we’d been at for the bachelor party. Jesse hadn’t wanted to piss off their neighbors in Tolliver, so at midnight, the reception had wound down and the after-party had moved here. I was kind of exhausted after the long day we’d had, but I hadn’t quite been able to make myself go back to the Wisteria and crash, and if I was honest, the reason for that was Brooklyn.
It wasn’t hard to see that he was upset about something. But I was pretty sure it was about something he’d found out in the phone call he’d taken at the reception, and not about me any longer. Well, sixty percent sure. Fifty, at least.
I wanted to go over there and talk to him. Ask what was wrong. Apologize again for last night. But I wasn’t sure he’d welcome the intrusion.
I felt like such an ass about the night before, but what was I supposed to do, not take Aiden’s call? Brooklyn was the one who’d pushed me to answer, dammit. And there Aiden had been, drunk and morose, convinced that not only would he be alone forever, he’d never get over Paolo. And that royally pissed me off.
Paolo was a dick, and it was time Aiden saw that. So of course I’d stayed on the phone with him, trying to help him process, help him see that he was better off without him. How was I supposed to know that Brooklyn was on the other side of the door, assuming I was talking about him?
I wondered if I should be annoyed that Brooklyn had jumped to conclusions. Annoyed he’d been listening to my conversation in the first place. Instead, I was just mortified. He’d thought I was just using him for a story? As an experiment?
The thought burned because it hit so close to home. That was the attitude I’d gone into the night with, but by the time I’d wound up underneath him on my hotel bed, I’d known this was something more. Something scary. Something new. And something I wanted.
Only now, there was this weird giant wall of awkward between us, and I wasn’t sure how to break it down. I was probably overthinking it. Brooklyn had been right about one thing, at least—I was going back to Chicago tomorrow. So why was I obsessing over this?
I should probably let it go. Order a beer and go find that slutty cousin. Chalk last night up to a weird blip and try to forget about it.
But I couldn’t. And I didn’t want someone’s slutty cousin, I wanted Brooklyn. I’d wanted him last night and I wanted him even more now. Before I could talk myself out of it, I squared my shoulders and wove my way through the room, squeezing through the crowd so I could stand on his right, next to the bar.
“At first, I was gonna just drop your jacket and go,” I said, flashing him a confident grin as I held the garment out. I’d been carrying it with me all day. “But then, I realized you wouldn’t mind if I came and stood here, since you’re not avoiding me or anything.”
Brooklyn rolled his eyes. “Guess not.”
He guessed he wasn’t avoiding me? Or guessed he didn’t mind? Well, at least he hadn’t outright told me to leave. But if he wanted me to go, I might as well find out now. Time to grab the bull by the horns.
“So what was the news you got on that phone call? You’ve looked like you want to cry ever since.”
“What?” He turned and squinted at me.
“Ever since that call you got at the reception. You’ve been all frowny.”
He sighed. “It’s really okay. You don’t have to pretend to care.”
“I’m not pretending.”
“Gabe—”
“Brooklyn.” I smiled brightly. Even when he was being standoffish, something about him drew me in. Besides, it was fun to needle him. “I’m really not pretending.”
I stared at him until he nodded, finally. Victory. He took a long sip of his beer before answering.
“It’s that charity I told you about. The one my advisor founded.”
“Yeah, Human Nature.” I nodded. “You do science and nature programs with kids and stuff.”
Brooklyn blinked like he was surprised I remembered that. What, did he think I didn’t listen when he talked?
“Well, we just found out that this huge grant—and really our only source of funding—isn’t going to come through for us this year. We planned all of next year’s budget on the assumption we’d get that money. Because we always do. And now, unless we work some kind of miracle, we’re going to have to close in January.”
“Wow. That’s awful. You guys didn’t have anything else lined up? Or a rainy day fund or something?”
Brooklyn laughed bitterly. “Gabe, you’re talking about a charity founded by a biology professor who can barely remember not to lock his keys in the car. I love Jeff, but organization isn’t his strong suit.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. So, it pretty much sucks. And the kids are just going to be left with nothing halfway through the year. Like, thanks for all the data you guys gave me, we’re just gonna abandon you now, peace.”
“There’s gotta be something we can do.”
Brooklyn arched an eyebrow. “We?”
“We, you, whatever. I’m sure more than just you and your advisor care about this. If you got a group of people together, maybe other volunteers, people at the schools you work with, I’m sure you could at least start generating some ideas for how to move forward.”
He paused, assessing me for a second. “Gabe, is what you told me earlier true? About your brother?”
“Wait, you still don’t believe me?” I stared at him in confusion. “Yes, it was fucking true. You really think I would say shit like that about you while you were in the room?”
He flushed, and if I hadn’t been annoyed at him right then, I would have thought about how good it looked on him. Well, thought about it more than I already was.
“Here, this is what we’re going to do.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket, dialed Aiden’s number, and then hit the speaker button, holding the phone in between me and Brooklyn.
“Gabe? What’s up?” Aiden’s voice was a little static-y, but I could hear him.
“Two things. First, how did your audition go?”
“Ugh, can we get to that second?”
“That good, huh?”
“I was pretty hungover. I tried to play it like I thought that fit the character I was reading for, that he was the kind of guy who just always looked like he needed an aspirin and eight ounces of water, but I don’t think the casting director bought it.”
“That sucks.”
“Not my finest hour. Let’s not dwell on it. What was the second thing?”
I looked at Brooklyn to make sure he was listening before I spoke.
“Aiden, it just so happens that when you called last night, I had someone in my hotel room. And they overheard half of our conversation and got the wrong impression. I have them here with me now, and you’re on speaker. Would you mind telling them what we talked about last night, so they stop thinking I’m a lying asshole?”
“Uh…what?” Aiden sounded completely confused.
“Last night, when you drunk-dialed me. What did we talk about?”
“Fuck, you had someone over last night? Why did you answer?”
“Because I care about you, dummy. And you called me three times.”
“Still, you shouldn’t have…” Aiden trailed off for a second. “This is so embarrassing.”
“Aiden, will you just—”
“Fine. Person-Gabe-brought-home-last-night, for your information, I called my brother drunk off my ass to cry about how my ex-boyfriend had dumped me, stiffed me for rent, and was probably hooking up with one of his co-stars on his shitty horror movie set in Slovakia at that very moment. I was wasted, moping, and a complete disaster. And Gabe, in his eminent compassion, was nice enough to listen to me, to try to cheer me up, and to remind me that fucking Paolo is a fucking dick, and I should probably be glad he’s gone. There, are you happy?”
I looked at Brooklyn. His eyes were wide, and if I’d thought he’d been blushing before, I hadn’t known the half of it. His face was bright red, from the base of his neck to the tips of his ears, and goddamn if he didn’t find a way to make that look good. He nodded, and I smiled.
“Thanks bro, that’s perfect. And I’m right, by the way. You are better off without Paolo.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Aiden laughed. “It sounds loud there. Where are you guys?”
“Wedding after party. We should probably go, actually.”
“Wait, don’t I at least get to know her name?”
“Her who?”
“The girl you brought back with you last night.”
I glanced at Brooklyn, his face a flaming scarlet, and laughed. “Brooklyn. His name is Brooklyn.” Then I hung up.
Brooklyn looked incredulous. “You told your brother.”
“Told him what?”
“About me being a guy. Why would you tell him that?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” I shrugged. “He’s gay. And even if he weren’t, it wouldn’t matter. He’d be happy for me.”
Brooklyn shook his head slowly. “I swear Gabe, the more I get to know you, the more I realize I really don’t.”
“I’m like the ocean, baby.”
“Full of fish?”
“No, deep, you weirdo.”
Brooklyn leaned a little closer to me to let someone squeeze up to the bar on his other side. He didn’t look at them once, his eyes were so focused on me.
I smiled. “So am I forgiven?”
“I…yeah.” He finally grinned. “Yeah, you are. Completely. Except really, it should be me asking for your forgiveness. I was the one making baseless assumptions. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Well, they weren’t completely baseless. I mean, it would have been, you know, new for me. I don’t blame you for being a little worried about my motivations.”
“Still, I should have trusted you.” He sighed. “I don’t know, I think I was just a little thrown by the whole thing. Maybe I’m not cut out to be someone’s gay sex guide after all.”
“Why not?”
“Eh, it’s complicated. But you really don’t need to hear about my baggage. Look, do you think we could just start over? Forget last night ever happened and just be friends?”
I struggled to keep my face impassive. Just be friends? I felt like I’d been kicked.
“Yeah. Friends. Totally.” I nodded and forced a smile.
“Good. Then as a friend, let me buy you a beer to make up for the one I owe you from last night. And then you can tell me more about your brother. I wanna know why this Paolo guy sucks so much. Maybe we can plot some revenge.”
I laughed, keeping my smile in place as Brooklyn ordered me an amber ale. I couldn’t quite explain how I was feeling. I’d only known him for twenty-four hours. But somehow, the fact that he didn’t want me anymore hurt.
He turned around and handed me my beer, and suddenly a cheer went up from the crowd. I looked over my shoulder to see that Mark and Jesse had just walked into the bar. They kissed by the door, and everyone clapped.
“Aww, they make such a cute couple,” the bartender said as she slid a coaster in my direction.
I raised my eyebrows at Brooklyn. “See, lots of people say that phrase.”
“Yeah, but still not a lot of straight men.”
“But I’m not—”
“I give it a year,” said a deep voice behind Brooklyn. We both swiveled to stare at a man who’d sat down at the bar on Brooklyn’s left. He was tall, with dark, wavy hair that was just beginning to go gray at his temples in a way that looked obscenely stylish. He was a little older, early forties maybe, with classic good looks, and from the way he carried himself, you could tell that he knew it.
I disliked him immediately.
“I’m sorry, what?” I asked, annoyance rising in me.
The man smiled. “I said, I give it a year.”
“Ugh, ignore him,” Brooklyn said darkly.
He was looking at the guy the way people looked at rats scurrying around a subway system—familiar, not unexpected, but not exactly welcome either. Speaking of familiar, there was something about the guy’s face that rang a bell, but I couldn’t figure out why.
“He’s just a bitter, jealous, mean drunk,” Brooklyn continued, “who enjoys ruining people’s happiness.”
“Mean? Have I said anything mean? You’re the one who started calling names.” The guy gave Brooklyn a level look before transferring his gaze to me. “I’m Tanner Carmichael.”
He paused as though he expected that to mean something to me, and again, it almost did. The name tickled something in the back of my mind, but I couldn’t bring it to the surface. Something about…Miami, maybe? Why did I picture Tanner standing on a beach somewhere?
“I’m Gabe,” I said, bringing my mind back to the present moment. Brooklyn was glaring daggers at Tanner. Who was this guy, and why did Brooklyn hate him so much? “I’m Mark’s friend. And best man. I take it you know them?”
Tanner smiled. There was something self-satisfied about it. “Oh, I knew Jesse long before Mark ever did.”
Brooklyn snorted. “Yeah, and then you cheated on him with a fetus, got dumped by Jesse, then got dumped by the fetus, and I’m pretty sure you didn’t even get asked back by Chatham University to teach this fall. Which raises the question—what the hell are you even doing in the state of Georgia, Tanner? Don’t you have somewhere else to infest?”
“Just passing through on my way back from filming a show on Fire Island,” Tanner said. “I’m headed out to LA next, meeting with a couple of companies about future projects I’d like to produce.”
“You don’t ‘just pass through’ Summersea,” Brooklyn said. “It’s not on the way to anywhere.”
“I had a desire to see something quaint,” Tanner said with an exaggerated shrug. “Maybe I’ll propose shooting something here, next.”
“Or maybe you can’t get over the fact that Jesse’s happy without you, living his life and moving on while you’re still stuck in the past.”
“Spring Break Breakout!” I said, suddenly remembering where I knew Tanner from. “You used to host that show, didn’t you?”
Tanner smiled, looking exceptionally satisfied. “Indeed I did. Always nice to meet a fan.”
I hadn’t actually said I was a fan. Spring Break Breakout was one of those reality shows you either loved or hated. People who liked it praised the fact that it showed queer college students making bad choices on television, the same as straight ones. People who hated it pointed out that it was still invasive and tawdry, even if it was open-minded about whose lives it was willing to exploit. But it wasn’t worth arguing over.
“Even if you are here for work,” Brooklyn said, “that still doesn’t explain why you’re in this bar. I know you weren’t invited to their wedding, and I swear to God, if you try to ruin Jesse’s day for him—”
“Brooklyn and I are previously acquainted, as you can see,” Tanner said to me, before baring his teeth at Brooklyn in something that didn’t even pretend to pass for a smile. “And before you give yourself an aneurysm from all that glaring, I’ll remind you that, like it or not, most marriages end in divorce. Add in the fact that these two are rushing to get hitched after only knowing each other for a few months, and I don’t see how you can expect their relationship not to fall apart. It’s a statistical fact, not a judgment call. ”
“Like fuck it’s not a judgment call,” Brooklyn said. “You just never learned how to feel good about yourself without shitting all over other people’s happiness.”
“Those statistics aren’t as clear cut as you think,” I put in. “Plus, even if what you said is true, that doesn’t mean that Mark and Jesse are doomed to fail. Plenty of people get married quickly, and stay married for years.”
“And have either one of you two ideologues ever been married?” Tanner raised an eyebrow and laughed at our silence. “I thought as much. It’s easy to blithely assume a statistic will never apply to you. No one knows how hard marriage is until they attempt it for themselves.”
“How hard can it honestly be?” I shook my head. “My parents have been married for twenty-four years and they don’t even like each other. I’m not saying anyone should emulate them, but it’s clearly not that difficult to stay married if even they can manage it.”
“Spoken with the confidence of someone who’s never tried.” Tanner laughed. “Or failed.”
Looking back on it later, I would realize that it was his laugh that did it.
The sheer amount of disdain Tanner managed to freight his laugh with, the pure contempt—it got under my skin in a way nothing else could. Some part of me knew he was just trying to get a rise out of us, knew that we were giving him what he wanted if we let him make us mad. But I didn’t care. The dude was pissing me off.
“Bullshit,” I said, taking over chief glaring duties from Brooklyn. “Maybe it seems impossible to you because you apparently can’t make a relationship work to save your life. But trust me, for normal people, it’s not that hard.”
Tanner’s eyes went dark, and his lips curled into a cruel smile.
“Prove it.”