Dear Mr. Brody by A.M. Johnson
Parker
“Why are you so annoying?” I asked as Marcos hovered over my shoulder, his hand on the arm of my desk chair. “Seriously, man. If you want me to go to that club with you tonight, you have to let me finish this essay.”
“You’ve been working on this forever, mijo. Mr. Brody asked for a get-to-know-you essay, not an autobiography.” He fiddled with the small blue feather earring dangling from his earlobe.
“Nice feather.”
“What do you think? I bought it today,” he said, and I shrugged, the motion earning me a slap to the back of the head.
“Ow… I’m sorry. It’s kind of flashy.” I had to press my lips together to stop myself from smiling.
“Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“That’s why I know it’s perfect. You have terrible taste.” Marcos grinned and dropped his eyes to the document on my screen.
I attempted to close it before he could get a good look at what I’d written, but he reached over me with his long-ass arm and snatched it right off the desk.
“Asshole, you’re going to break it.”
He swiped a handful of his wavy dark hair from his forehead as he sat down on my bed. “Why so secretive?”
“Give me my laptop, shithead. Don’t make me kick your skinny ass.”
He ignored me like I figured he would, reading my damn essay like he had some sort of best-friend-roommate right to invade my privacy. To be fair, there wasn’t much we kept from each other. I’d never hidden anything from him before, and I wasn’t sure why I thought I needed to now. But the smirk on his face while he read my essay had me feeling queasy. If he thought it was crap, my friend who’d always had my back, my ride or die, what the hell would my professor think? Marcos and I had been friends since our first day of basic training in San Antonio when we’d both puked up our guts after running miles in the mid-summer heat. It had been a relief to know I hadn’t been the only one struggling that day. By some sheer magic, we’d both gotten through training and had been stationed at MacDill Air Force Base, in Florida, after graduation. Those four years could stay in the past as far as I was concerned. If it hadn’t been for Marcos, I’m not sure I would’ve made it. Like ashes scattered in the wind, without him I would have been lost. For four years I’d forced myself to stay in a closet I never wanted, and every now and then, I worried some of that darkness would never fade.
“This is good,” he said, surprise coloring his tone. “I guess that public affairs job was useful after all.”
“I basically wrote propaganda for the Air Force, Marcos.” I rubbed my palm over my short hair, a familiar knot twisting inside my stomach. “This class… it’s different. I want to write stuff I’m proud of, stuff for me.”
“It wasn’t propaganda.”
“Close enough.” I stood, not wanting to go down this road. When I was enlisted, it had been my job to make the Air Force look good regardless of the truth. Some days being in the service had been everything I’d thought it would be, and other days I’d rather not revisit. “Give it back.”
Marcos sighed and handed me my laptop. “I think the essay is good, I mean, I’m no expert, but it’s missing something.”
“Oh yeah, what’s that?”
Sensing my mood, Marcos did what he did best. Made me laugh. “In the hopes and dreams portion...” He tapped a finger against his lips. “You forgot to add how bad you want to fuck our new teacher.”
“Christ… get out of here with that bullshit.” I laughed and set my laptop on my desk, opening it before I sat down again.
“Whatever, mijo. Don’t act like you weren’t flirting with him yesterday. Can we call you Donovan?” He mocked. “You might as well have gotten on your knees for him right then and there, it was that obvious.”
“Fuck off.” I tried to sound pissed but my widening smile gave me away. “He’s hot, I couldn’t help myself.”
“You never could,” he said, his smirk a reminder of how well this asshole knew me.
“Do you think Mr. Brody even realizes how sexy he is?”
He had a quiet confidence, but there was something timid about him. Something nervous behind those wolfish gray eyes of his.
“Probably. And I’d bet money he’s straight and married to some perfect-looking woman and has perfectly boring sex. A man that gorgeous has to have flaws. It’s the way the universe balances shit.”
“You’re probably right,” I said, and he hummed his acknowledgement. “I bet he has a big dick, though.”
“You wish.” Laughing, he flopped backward onto my mattress. “Speaking of big dicks… Tam’s going to be at the club tonight.”
Tam worked with Marcos at an upscale clothing boutique near Piedmont Park. He wasn’t one-hundred-percent my type. I liked my guys to be a little less fragile. Tam was elegant with long legs and pretty lips. His ass was nice, though. I was a sucker for a bubble butt. And it wasn’t a secret he’d be down to mess around. He flirted with me relentlessly whenever we all got together.
“Yeah?”
“Yup, you should go. You never go out anymore. Always sitting around reading, you need to get a life.”
“I guess I could tear myself away from this essay for a few hours.”
Marcos sat up and smiled. “Thank God… you take this school shit way too seriously.”
“It’s kind of important if we ever want to have real careers.”
He stood and sauntered toward my bedroom door with purpose. “We’re just starting our junior year. It’s okay to have a little fun, Park… we can worry about real life later. You haven’t hooked up with anyone in a while. And one-on-one time with yourself in the shower doesn’t count. Be ready by ten. And that’s not a suggestion, it’s an order.”
I huffed out a laugh as he left. I wasn’t much of a hookup kind of guy, it reminded me too much of all the sloppy, under-the-radar shit I had to pull while enlisted. Nothing ever felt real then, it had to be quick blow jobs in bar bathrooms or fucking in a back seat of a car like a teenager, hoping to God no one would find out. I wasn’t into that anymore. I wanted something solid, something I didn’t have to hide. Being out in the military wasn’t impossible, but I’d learned the hard way it was easier if I kept my head down. There were some memories not worth dredging up, and as if the bruises and the cracked ribs had never healed, I struggled to take a deep breath. I’d never change my choice to join, my choice to stay. I’d joined to make my dad happy, even though he’d passed away of a heart attack when I was ten, enlisting was something I had to do for him. I’d idolized my father and the stories he’d told me about serving his country. When he’d died, I’d promised myself I would make him proud. On some of my hardest nights, I’d lie awake, wondering if my father would accept me as a gay man. When I’d come out to my mom, I was only fourteen, and she’d told me he’d love me no matter who I was attracted to. My sister Mandi was six years older than me and had gotten to spend more time with him, and she agreed with Mom. She’d said my dad thought the world of me, and there wasn’t anything that would’ve changed how much he’d loved me. I’d like to believe that was true, that he was up in heaven smiling down on me.
I swiped my finger over the touchpad of my laptop and the screen came to life, my essay staring back at me. Reading over it again, I deleted at least half of it. Marcos could make fun of me all he wanted, tell me it was only an essay, but I’d written enough half-truths to last me a lifetime. I couldn’t do it anymore.
“In fifteen-hundred words tell me who you are, tell me the story of your life. It doesn’t have to be perfect, but it does have to be honest. Real words matter.”
Mr. Brody’s challenge sat heavy on my shoulders. Without knowing it, he’d given me the courage to write what I wanted. What I needed.
Real words. The real me.
Humid air thick with sweat surrounded us as we made our way toward the bar. The Masquerade wasn’t the biggest or the best gay club in Atlanta, but it had amazing music on Tuesday nights according to my best friend and perpetual thorn in my side. The place was decently sized with three bars, a large, circular one in the back, and two smaller ones on each side of the open industrial space. Exposed ventilation and metal beams decorated the high ceilings, and the bright multicolored lights bounced off the concrete walls and floors creating a dizzying effect on the dance floor. The sea of bodies moved to the beat of the bass, pushing us down stream toward the back of the club. Hands and fingers brushed against my bare arms, setting off an explosion of goosebumps across my skin.
“What about that guy?” Marcos hollered back at me once we’d found our way out of the crowd. “The one with the goth vibe.”
“The guy in the leather Speedo?” Laughing, I shook my head. “He has a nice body, I guess, but he looks like he’s in his forties?”
“Nothing wrong with a silver fox.”
“I’m not drunk enough for forties or leather.” We’d been here for about an hour, giving the buzz of my first few drinks time to wear off while we’d danced. “I think I’ll pass.”
“It’s not always about you… I was looking for me.” He bumped me with his hip, and I chuckled. “You really think he’s that old?”
“At least.”
“Fuck, I don’t think I care… look at his abs.” Marcos licked his lips, subtle as ever, and the guy smiled at him. “Oh shit, he saw me.”
“He could probably feel your boner from across the room.”
Marcos flipped me off, and I followed behind him, wishing I had half his confidence sometimes. I was nervous about meeting up with Tam tonight. It had been forever since I’d had any interest in dating. But Marcos wasn’t afraid of anything. He wore what he wanted. Fucked who he wanted, and never apologized for any of it. Like me, he’d hidden his sexuality while he was enlisted. He could say it hadn’t affected him, he liked to pretend everything was butterflies and cupcakes for the most part, but when we’d gotten out two years ago, and he’d decided to move back home with me to Atlanta, a switch had flipped inside him. Maybe he wanted to make up for lost time, and hell, maybe it was time I did too.
Once we found our way to the bar, I ordered our drinks. I took a sip of my vodka tonic and scanned the dance floor. “I wonder where Tam is.”
“He said he’d be here thirty minutes ago.”
“Maybe he changed his mind?”
“That guy has the biggest hard-on for you, I doubt it.” He pulled out his phone. “I’ll text him.”
“Don’t make me look desperate. If he doesn’t show, it is what it is. There are a few guys here I wouldn’t mind hanging out with tonight.”
“Oh yeah, show me one,” he said, calling my bluff.
He rested his hand on his cocked hip, and if it wasn’t for the red harness and white skinny jeans he had on, I’d say he looked almost maternal.
“The bartender for one.”
“Ew, no, everyone fucks the bartender.”
“That’s a stereotype,” I argued. “Don’t be a dick.”
“I veto the bartender. Moving on… what about…” He glanced over my shoulder as said slutty bartender smiled at me. “Holy shit.”
“What?”
Marcos’s eyes were wide as he lifted his glass to his lips and took a sip. “Mr. Brody.”
I exhaled, annoyed. “Marcos… you have to stop with that shit, it’s not—”
“No, Mr. Brody is here. In this club. Right fucking now.”
“What?” I turned my head, following his line of sight and froze. Mr. Brody tipped his head back and laughed. His dark, almost black hair looked blue under the lights. “Um…”
“I know.”
“Oh, my shit… is that Wilder Welles?”
“Who?”
“Holy fuck, it is.”
“Park, I don’t know who this Wilder whoever the hell is, and I don’t care. Our hot as sin professor is standing less than a hundred yards away. In a gay club.” He knocked on my forehead with his knuckles. “Gay… Club.”
I shoved his hand away and laughed. “Wilder Welles… he’s one of my favorite authors, and he’s famous as fuck, dumbass.”
“Yeah… still don’t care.” He grabbed the sleeve of my shirt. “Let’s go say hi.”
“Marcos, come on… we shouldn’t—”
“We should and we shall.”
When I didn’t budge, he groaned.
“It’s not a good idea. We should give Mr. Brody some privacy, isn’t there some code of conduct about fraternizing with your teacher?”
Marcos stared at me, his face expressionless. “Who cares about codes and rules? We don’t subscribe to any of that shit anymore, my friend. And if the man wanted privacy, he wouldn’t be out at a club.”
“Fair, but it feels rude. He’s with a huge group of people. And just because he’s out with friends, doesn’t mean he wants to be bothered.” I drained my drink in one gulp and set it on the bar. “Besides, Tam is probably up front looking for us.”
“Fine…” Marcos finished his drink and lifted his hand, grabbing the bartender’s attention. “If you want to suck your whole life, I can’t stop you.”
I gave him a cheesy grin. “I’m pretty good at sucking.”
“Ew… I need to find my silver fox anyway. I’m in desperate need of some maturity.”
Marcos was a lot to handle sometimes, and living with the guy, I questioned my sanity. But he was the levity I needed, and I was his gravity. We balanced each other. I draped my arm around his shoulder, and he turned to look at me. “Thanks for dragging me out tonight.”
“Kicking and screaming,” he teased and ordered another round of drinks. “Can we get four shots of whiskey.”
“Whiskey?” I asked.
“Why not?” He shrugged off my arm. “Liquid courage.”
“For what?”
“See, that’s the fun part,” he said. “I don’t know.”
The bartender poured our shots, not spilling a drop. He winked at me as he slid them across the counter. “Enjoy.”
Marcos rolled his eyes and picked up his glass. “Here’s to leather Speedos and hot teachers.”
“And slutty bartenders,” I added.
“I guess I can drink to that.”
We tossed back both of our shots in less than a minute, and as the warmth of the alcohol crawled through me, though I’d never admit it to Marcos, I might’ve snuck another look at Mr. Brody.