| FIVE MARRIED MEN |
CHAPTER 2
At three o’clock that afternoon David’s last appointment of the
day had arrived in the front office, an architect and a restaurateur.
He was gazing out the window when Janie opened his office door. He turned when she spoke his name
the third time, his face weighted with gloom.
“Sorry, Janie. My mind’s on a million things today.”
“Mr. Brubaker and Mr. Dagady are here.”
He glanced at his watch, then started for the door. “Ask Betty to join us,” he said. “Tell her we’re
organizing a new project this afternoon. She’ll want to start a new file.”
The young lady looked at him with concern, her brow furrowed. “Are you okay, Mr. Westin?” Despite
the preoccupations of her youth, she had noticed his dire mood. She cared. He never made an issue of
her short skirts or tattoo, and he was funny. She told her friends just the night before how cool it was to
work in his office.
He looked over her shoulder at the men sitting in the front office, then his eyes dropped back down and
he smiled. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry I didn’t hear you when you first came in.”
“No problem,” she said, breaking into a grin when he comically reached up and twisted his finger in his
ear. “I’ll talk louder next time.”
“Good idea. You have to make allowances for the old guys.”
She returned to her desk and picked up the phone. David approached Mr. Brubaker, his hand
extended. After a brief greeting, they went into David’s office. Betty, his secretary, walked in a moment
later. They joined her at the conference table.
Though an unyielding melancholy had settled over him, David proceeded with all of the charade he could
muster. “Mr. Brubaker, have you found time to look at any of those projects I mentioned on the phone
the other day?”
“Please call me John, and yes I have. Three. The restored house in Highland Park was exquisite. If I
had six million dollars to spend on a house, I’d have bought it on the spot. The steak house on
Greenville Avenue shows your understanding of the restaurant business. But that country club dining
room. Unbelievable. I’ve never seen anything like it. I spent two hours there, amazed by the incredible
attention to detail.”
David smiled, though he felt more like walking out of the room. He continued, calling upon his well-
honed business acumen to proceed under adverse circumstances. “That was the only project I ever
worked on with an unlimited budget. The owner’s an eccentric fast food millionaire. That clubhouse is
his passion. It cost him five hundred a square foot, mostly due to his hair-trigger change orders. The
money was virtually no object.”
“Well, that’s not quite the case with Tri-State Development. We have a pretty liberal budget but it does
have limits. Nevertheless, I’m convinced you have a unique ability to bring stone, wood and plaster
together.”
David nodded at his colleague. “That’s why Don’s here. He was involved in both of those restaurant
projects. He brings the stone and wood together. We just provide the means. Don’s one of the most
notable architects in Dallas.”
Don Dagady leaned forward. “I wouldn’t know about that, but David does keep me busy with these
wonderful projects.”
“Well gentlemen,” said John Brubaker, “we have a budget of one point three million for this restaurant,
excluding the real estate of course. We believe it’s an exciting concept. If it works, it’ll be the prototype
for future locations.”
The meeting continued. David left the room just once to splash cold water on his face. Two hours later,
he concluded by saying: “Looks like we’ve covered the preliminary details gentlemen.” Flipping through
the papers before him, he had reached the point in the meeting where he knew he had gotten through it.
“The time table, the budget, the required estimates for the bankers . . .” He looked up. “That’s what we
need to get started.” He looked at Don Dagady. “You have a good idea of what John’s looking for?”
Don nodded. David paused, wondering if he had overlooked anything, wondering if anyone other than
Janie had noticed his distraction. He looked at John Brubaker. “Will you need time to look around a
little before we proceed?”
“Oh no,” Brubaker said, stuffing documents back into his briefcase. “I’m sold. I want you to get started
as quickly as possible.”
“Okay then. My attorney is out of town . . . “ David nearly lost his composure. He’ll be gone a week.
David pictured his best friend, the man he had confided in, walking abruptly out of the restaurant. What
if he shuns me when he returns? How do I explain it to Linda? He had a compelling urge to stand, walk
out of the room, but only a few seconds remained. Get this over with. Scanning the faces watching him,
he drew a calming breath and carried on. “My attorney will be back in a week to draw up the contract.
But that won’t cause a delay. Don will start the design blueprints right away. We can fret over the
contract later next week.”
The men stood and shook hands. All but David started toward the door. Clutching the files in her arm,
Betty glanced back from the doorframe.
“Something bothering you, David?” A middle-age, no nonsense kind of woman, her voice hinted
concern.
David wished she had walked out with the others. Evidently he had not been as composed as he
thought. He was in no mood to explain.
“Nothing to worry about, Betty. Got a few things on my mind.”
She knew by his tone he didn’t want to talk, but she also knew he hadn’t been himself for a while now.
“Then you haven’t forgotten how to smile?”
He forced a smile, then said: “There’s nothing to worry about. Thanks for asking though.”
She looked at him a moment longer. “Anything you need before I leave?”
“No. I’m out of here in a few minutes myself.”
He drifted over to the window when she closed the door and looked down at the deserted construction
site. The crew had left for the day. He stood transfixed, wondering how the day’s events were going to
affect the rest of his life. If only he had kept his mouth shut. If only he could get in the car and drive, get
away for a few days himself.
* * *
James entered his house through the kitchen door at five-thirty. It had been a long and unnerving
afternoon rearranging his schedule for the benefit of a secluded week in San Diego. He nearly walked
past his wife without noticing her. His mind was on packing a light suitcase. He had paid full fare for the
last flight out to San Diego and would be in the air by ten PM. Shasha looked up when he opened the
door and watched him cross the kitchen, his expression suggesting thoughts a million miles away.
“I’ve seen that look before,” she said just as he was about to walk out of the kitchen. “Guess your nose
will be glued to a contract until two o’clock again.”
He turned toward the sound of her voice. “Oh . . . hi sexy,” he said wearily. He started toward her,
closing his arms around her waist as he neared. “No reading tonight. Got a call from San Diego this
afternoon. Hank Thompson. Thinks he has an emergency. Sorry baby, I have to go out there.”
“When?” she asked warily.
“Now, tonight.” He shrugged with a hapless smile, as if to remind her of a lawyer’s thankless
responsibilities.
Disappointment washed over her face. She looked over at the counter, at the food set out for dinner.
“Do you have time to eat?”
“Afraid not. My flight leaves at ten. I need to pack.”
Shasha hated this. He already looked exhausted and instead of a moment’s rest, he had to fly out to
California. Sometimes she wished he had chosen a different career, but he loved his work and never
complained. “How long will you be gone?”
Dreading her reaction, he stated it quickly. “A week.”
“A week! What kind of an emergency takes that long for crying out loud? You’re not even licensed in
California.”
James had agonized over lying to his wife all afternoon, but he had not realized the full impact of actually
doing it. A wave of dread came over him and he tasted it in his throat. Now he had to build on the lie
and it felt like an iron fist squeezing his heart. “I know, honey. But ever since I caught that late-fee
penalty that his own lawyers overlooked, he always calls me on complicated deals. This one’s
complicated. Negotiations included. That’s why it’ll take a week.”
“It’s just that I hate not seeing you everyday, even if it’s no more than your shiny head behind a contract.”
She turned toward the counter to continue cutting lettuce for the salads. Their three daughters would be
down for dinner any minute. She looked at him over her shoulder, apologetically, and said: “I know, I’m
being selfish.”
“Look at it this way: When the girls are grown, you and I’ll be going on these trips together.”
She smiled and nodded, wondering if it was really in him to slow down enough to enjoy having his wife
along on a business trip.
His eyes swept over her. Ponytail, lips their usual red, she was wearing tight shorts and a Spanish style
blouse that tied in the middle, leaving a peek at her navel. With no effort at all she was beautiful. Her
only complaint—her hips, which had expanded a couple of inches over the years; a subject that made
James smile inwardly when she sat down in front of a bowl of chocolate ice cream.
“I’m going upstairs to pack.”
Ten minutes later Shasha entered the bedroom. She strolled toward the bed to look at the small
suitcase he had been packing: shaving kit, pair of sandals, blue jeans, Docker shorts and a few folded
pullover shirts. She looked up when he walked out of the bathroom, his tie off, his shirt unbuttoned.
“You’re packing this stuff for business meetings?” she said, bewildered.
He glanced at the suitcase, suddenly aware his packing did not match the lie. The dread he felt in the
kitchen turned to instant panic. He stared wide-eyed at the small case as his mind grappled for a
supplement to the ever-expanding lie. “Uh . . . thought I’d use the garment bag for my suits.”
She dumped the suitcase on the bed. “Why not put this stuff in the garment bag, too? I’ll help.” She
thought for a moment, then asked: “Think two suits will do?”
“Sure,” he said, hiding relief.
Mired in self-contempt, he turned away from her and reached up to rub his neck. Oh God! I’m lying like
a dog. She came up to help me pack. You’re no good at this, asshole.
She started toward the closet, returning moments later with the garment bag in one hand and two suits in
the other.
“Looks like Janet might have a new boy friend,” she said, speaking casually of their middle daughter as
she organized his clothes inside the bag.
He looked at her for a moment to reorient his thoughts. “That’s supposed to be great news?” he said
sarcastically.
“I for one think it is great news. I don’t like the girls focusing on one boy too long.”
“I don’t like them focusing on one boy, ever.”
Shasha looked at him, incredulous. She had yet to get through his thick head that his daughters were
growing up. “Anyway, you know I can’t resist listening in on their phone conversations when the
opportunity arises . . .”
“You picked up the extension!”
“James! You know I wouldn’t do that. Now shut-up and listen.” Placing the casual clothes he had
gathered into the pockets of the garment bag, she continued. “I simply overheard her talking to a friend.
It was about a new boy who enrolled near the end of the semester. The conversation included all the
customary giggling. Didn’t hear much because she noticed me and started talking in a lower tone.”
“So the girls know you eavesdrop?”
“Of course they do. They know their mother.” She glanced him over. “Sure you don’t have time for
dinner?”
“You know airport security these days. Never can predict how long it’ll take. I better get on over there.”
In fact he did have a little extra time, but he was desperate for a stretch of solitude and calm. Adding the
anguish of lying to Shasha on top of his emotions over David’s sudden confession, it took considerable
effort to remain composed. Had he not been in turmoil, he would not have overlooked the need to pack
a bag that matched the lie.
He watched the loving care she used in packing the garment bag, thinking of how much he loved her.
They had shared life’s challenges longer than he could remember; but from the beginning, though he
considered doing so a thousand times, he never talked to her about his bisexuality; he couldn’t. He
remembered the phone call he received from his roommate three years after graduation. Randal had
taken a job in New York and his company’s annual convention was being held in Dallas. He had called
to find out if James might be interested in getting together when he got to town. It wasn’t easy, but he
declined, including even a casual lunch. Shasha was all ready pregnant with their second daughter
then. James knew, by setting eyes on his old roommate again, the likelihood of making excuses for a
rendezvous.
His thoughts returned to matters at hand. Shasha was looking at him, her head tilted quizzically.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked.
“Oh, nothing really. Just how tired I am tonight.”
“I can’t believe they expect you to fly all the way to California after working all day. Can’t it wait ‘til
morning?”
“Hank wants to get an early start. Sorry, honey.”
Shasha shook her head, exasperated. “So what do you want to wear on the plane?”
“Something comfortable. Khakis and a pull-over.”
She went into the closet and returned to a husband standing near the bed in a pair of white cotton
briefs. Her eyes took on that sensuous gleam that never failed to redirect his train of thought. “Well, now
I remember why I’m going to miss you this week, big boy.”
Tossing the khakis and shirt onto the bed, she came up behind him when he leaned over to zip the
garment bag. He felt her hands slide down his back, the heat of her body against his. Her hands
rounded his waist and came up over his stomach and chest. The conflicts in his brain collided like
fighting rams. He closed his eyes, tempted with second thoughts about leaving; but no, he had to go.
He had to be alone for a while, to deal with the circumstances David had imposed.
“Trying to make me forget I have to leave?”
“Think I could?” she asked, sliding her hand under the waistband of his briefs.
“Resorting to those tactics, maybe.”
Twenty awkward minutes later he was on his way to the airport.
* * *
David was home by six-thirty.
He took a bottle of beer from the refrigerator and walked absentmindedly through the kitchen and on to
the bedroom. After pulling off his work clothes, he stepped into a favorite pair of cotton shorts with a
comfortable elastic waistband. Exiting through the den, he crossed the deck and stretched out on a
chase lounge near the pool, still lost in a fog of gloom. His world had evolved into a state of change,
now that James knew about his lifelong secret. That troubled him. His best friend’s alarming reaction
felt like another weight to bear. He had wanted someone to talk to. Instead of a sense of relief, he got a
new dilemma to feed the tension in his shoulders.
Leaning forward to scratch his neck, he watched Linda rearrange the deck for their outdoor dinner. She
looked up and smiled, a good sign his preoccupation hadn’t drawn her attention, at least for the
moment. His wife was among the growing number expressing concern.
Guess I ought to walk around smiling all the time.
It stood to reason those in his life would comment if his behavior had changed. It’s just that he didn’t
realize it had become that obvious. He resolved to be more conscious of the mood swings and the way
people observed him.
But the guilt. It struck a blow every time he looked at Linda. Just admitting his secret to James seemed
like an act of infidelity. Guilt. It set in every time his eyes locked on a pair of broad shoulders or
forearms darkened with hair or sweat streaking down a construction worker’s back. It came in being a
man his wife didn’t know, in harboring a secret he could never share. What would become of his
marriage if she knew of his inclination for the firmer contours of masculine flesh and a man’s smell?
Now this thing with James. He felt alone when James walked out of the restaurant, isolated, coupled
with an intense need to know why he so suddenly had to disappear for a week.
A week! It loomed like the longest seven days he would ever live through. A whole week with questions
haunting him every minute of every day. Nothing could draw his mind from dwelling on it, from dragging
the hours into days.
He watched Linda fire up the grill, wearing those tight, worn out blue jeans, the ones that so delightfully
accentuated the feminine curve of her hips. He felt a rush of affection, aware she stirred him as always.
Though it had never been a staggering concern, he had wondered if a sexual experience with a man
might somehow diminish his attraction for her. But as do her many sensual nuances and the suggestive
clothes she often wore around the house, the blue jeans effectively dispelled that particular concern.
Twenty years. David not only still loved her, he loved to look at her, to watch her go about her routines.
He considered her the perfect woman, as youthful and sexy at forty-two as the day they married; breasts
of average size, waist narrow, hips appealingly mature, a natural beauty with a ruddy complexion rarely
enhanced by makeup. She wore her straight, sandy brown hair short, without a lot of fuss. It matched
her auburn eyes and gave her a carefree, feisty look. Pregnant with their son, she had dropped out of
college and spent much of her time after that assisting with those early construction projects, never
bothered by the grit and noise and heat. He remembered being enchanted by her intensity in choosing
colors and materials to finish out a job. Watching her go back into the house, he could have easily
followed her in for an hour in bed that very moment. Given a choice, he would never carry a secret that
couldn’t be shared with the woman who had supported him, who had steeled herself through his years of
risk taking and had loved him in spite of everything for two decades.
He reached for the beer and took a long swallow. Beyond the new circumstances with James, the
problem was to find a way to deal with the guilt. He leaned back and stared into the glint of evening sun
across the pool. The guilt. They would be eighty years old one day. He would tell her that he’s
bisexual. She would laugh and say she never had a clue. They would be too old to be concerned by
such things. Until then, he’d have to live with his silent demons and quit allowing it to be written on his
face.
The door swung opened and Linda stepped back out. She walked over to join him.
“Have a good day today, lover?” she said, taking the chair next to his.
“We got the contract on that restaurant construction.”
“I’m glad to hear you’re not forgetting all your business meetings these days,” she said, staring up into
the low limbs of the live oak that shaded the pool.
He turned and looked at her a moment. “You know about that?”
Their eyes met. “You didn’t want me to know?”
“Well I wasn’t keeping it from you, but I am curious how you heard about it.”
“I had lunch with Shasha today.”
David’s gaze fell back over the water. Shasha knew! Why did James tell her about that? Why did I talk
to him today? I never should have brought it up.
“David? Did you hear me?”
“Uh, yeah. You and Shasha had lunch.”
She studied him for a moment. “Honey, why have you been so preoccupied lately? It’s really starting to
worry me. I’m hearing comments about it. Betty mentioned it the other day. Shasha brought it up today
during lunch.”
“Betty mentioned it?”
“The other day when I called you at the office. She answered the phone. It’s not that she sounded
concerned—she just mentioned you seem to have a lot on your mind these days.”
“Shasha knew I missed that meeting?”
“James talked to her about it. Evidently he’s concerned, too. He couldn’t believe you forgot an
important meeting. That’s what I’m talking about here. People have to repeat themselves two or three
times to get your attention. You always blow it off. Now even James is worried about you.”
“I saw him today. We talked about it.” He looked across the pool, reminded again of James’s quick
decision to go to California. He felt the panic creeping back in. He didn’t want to talk about all of this
just now. He remembered something he had been thinking about that would divert the conversation.
“Honey, it’s nothing. Maybe it’s time we spend a couple of days on a beach somewhere. Actually, I’ve
been a little burned out at work lately. I’ve thought about slowing down some. Been thinking about that
new Thunderbird you like so much. Maybe we should get one and hit the road now and then.”
Her eyes brightened. “Well David, if you’re asking my opinion, I’m all for it.” Her head tilted with
curiosity. “What do you mean by slowing down?”
“I want more time off. Guess I’m tired of the same old routine. Now that Jeff rarely comes home from
college these days, it seems like you and I should have more time to spend together.” He watched the
concern fade from her eyes. The diversion had brightened her mood as well as his.
She smiled and leaned forward to kiss him. “This is downright exciting.” She thought for a moment.
“Couldn’t you phase out some of those mundane projects? Store-fronts, things like that. It would free up
your time and it might keep you from feeling burned-out.”
“I thought about that. It’s a good idea, but those routine projects usually bring in the best income. You
know, fewer fickle clients, fewer change orders, and it’s always easier to line out subcontractors on
those jobs. If we’re going to start buying convertibles and living a carefree lifestyle, I’d rather not give up
the bigger margins.”
“Then maybe its time to let Johnny handle those jobs. He’s been with us long enough. He can handle it,
especially with Betty to fall back on. She knows how you think and knows how to make a decision.”
As if the same idea had been waiting in his subconscious, he liked the sound of it immediately. He
reached out and ran his hand over her leg and smiled. “That’s a perfect approach. He’s been hinting for
a raise lately. This would give me an opportunity to give him one, along with the additional
responsibilities of a promotion.” He thought for a moment, then added: “I could hire a new site
supervisor to take over what he’s doing now. If all I have to worry about is closing deals and special
projects, I could plan around what you and I want to do.”
She swooshed her hand at a honeybee buzzing her hair.
“Don’t swat at it and it won’t sting you,” he said.
When the bee flew away, she looked at him with a gleam in her eyes. “I’m excited about this, David. I
had no idea you were thinking about taking more time off. Shasha’s been talking about Destin beach.
We could all go together.”
This brought him back to thinking about James. After what happened today, would James be ready for
the four of them to vacation together? It seemed unlikely, not after that abrupt departure and the sudden
need to be alone for a week. Why? Why would a man leave so suddenly just because he learned his
best friend is bisexual? David feared the outcome of James’s return was far too unpredictable.
Linda came to her feet. David looked at her ass, distracted again. “Those jeans shrink when you
washed them last time?”
“What?” She quickly looked down, lifting the lower seam of her blouse.
David realized immediately he had asked a question no man should ask a forty-two year old woman.
“Does it look like I’ve gained weight?” She sounded alarmed. She sucked in her belly but the
waistband was still tight around the soft flesh.
“Uh . . .”
“I’ve had these five years.” She looked at him, distraught. “Do they look too tight?”
For these occasions, he had become adept at fast thinking. “They’re too sexy. Don’t you know better
than to turn-on a middle-aged man who hasn’t had dinner? Bad for the heart.”
A knowing smile formed on her lips. “Bullshit.”
“What are we having?”
“Rib-eyes and salad.”
He remembered the lunch he didn’t eat and his stomach growled. “Sounds perfect,” he said, eyeing the
jeans. “I’ll be looking forward to dessert, too.”
She shook her head and turned to go check the grill.
Watching her, torn by conflict, he sighed. Confiding in James had been tougher than he had imagined,
and it only made things worse. What could he do but wait, get through the week and hope their
relationship would balance in time. Maybe James would find a way to accept it and let their lives get
back to normal.
* * *
James was awake by seven o’clock the next morning. He had taken a suite on the beach across the
bay from downtown San Diego. The second floor balcony overlooked a popular jogging trail, beyond
which a crowded beach stretched as far as the eye could see. The balcony provided a perfect view of
the Pacific Ocean.
He crawled out of bed and slipped on a pair of shorts, then went out to sit on the balcony with his first
cup of coffee. He sat staring down at the path, at the endless flow of joggers, bikers and people strolling
among the reckless antics of young skate boarders—oblivious to it all. Tunes from an oldies radio
station wafted up from an open window across the way, mingling with the soothing sound of nearby
waves. The ocean breeze settling on his skin was pleasantly unlike the sticky heat in Dallas.
A relentless battle of two images raged in his mind: that of the past, a male lover with whom he had
shared an apartment in college; and that of the future, his best friend, taking center stage in every
thought his brain produced. He remembered the anxiety etched on David’s face while trying to confess
his bisexuality. An ache formed in James’s heart that caused a silent groan. Leaning back in the chair,
stretching his muscular legs toward the railing, he gazed out over the sea, trying in vain to sort out this
new dilemma. His thoughts carried him back to his final days in school.
The college lover had not been an overly emotional affair, but it confirmed what he had known all along.
Though he and Shasha had fallen in love years before, a thousand miles separated them during his final
year in graduate school. When Randal eventually came on to him, he let it happen. It went on from
there, at first an occasional night in bed together that ultimately led to sleeping together every night. All
through college he never considered the company of another woman; but the roommate, he told himself,
was a good way to get that inclination out of his system before he and Shasha married.
Now David.
From the moment David uttered the word bisexual, James had not had a coherent thought. He faced
dealing with the fact that he and David shared the same inclinations. How could he continue to
suppress the hunger he bore all these years, almost from the day he left college; or sit across from
David to discuss a contract while trying to ignore the unspoken. How could he shower with him after a
workout, when he was already turning his back to that magnificent body to avoid revealing his thoughts?
How could he deal with any of this, now that he was aware of what David might be thinking, when it was
already so difficult to endure as his own private secret? Could he continue to deny what he felt for the
man he would forever face on a daily basis? And what about the many occasions they spent time
together with their wives? Would it not always be there, threatening to charge the air when they were
together with Shasha and Linda?
His hand tense, he took a sip of coffee, the smooth flavor finding its way down to churn with the acids in
his stomach. The answers seemed as elusive as the origins of mankind, the complications more
formidable than any legal challenge he ever faced.
He stood and leaned against the railing. A hundred yards past the churning foam, surfers bobbed on
their boards awaiting the next wave. Pairs lay on towels in the sand as far as the eye could see. Below,
an endless stream of people passed along the path, their expressions reflecting the thoughts of their
own private worlds. It was just his first morning in San Diego, his first moment to sit and contemplate in
this fine California weather. He still had the rest of the week to reflect, to find a way to adjust to new
circumstances at home, to think of a response for David. So why, he wondered, did a whole week
seem like such an impossibly short time?
At three o’clock that afternoon David’s last appointment of the
day had arrived in the front office, an architect and a restaurateur.
He was gazing out the window when Janie opened his office door. He turned when she spoke his name
the third time, his face weighted with gloom.
“Sorry, Janie. My mind’s on a million things today.”
“Mr. Brubaker and Mr. Dagady are here.”
He glanced at his watch, then started for the door. “Ask Betty to join us,” he said. “Tell her we’re
organizing a new project this afternoon. She’ll want to start a new file.”
The young lady looked at him with concern, her brow furrowed. “Are you okay, Mr. Westin?” Despite
the preoccupations of her youth, she had noticed his dire mood. She cared. He never made an issue of
her short skirts or tattoo, and he was funny. She told her friends just the night before how cool it was to
work in his office.
He looked over her shoulder at the men sitting in the front office, then his eyes dropped back down and
he smiled. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry I didn’t hear you when you first came in.”
“No problem,” she said, breaking into a grin when he comically reached up and twisted his finger in his
ear. “I’ll talk louder next time.”
“Good idea. You have to make allowances for the old guys.”
She returned to her desk and picked up the phone. David approached Mr. Brubaker, his hand
extended. After a brief greeting, they went into David’s office. Betty, his secretary, walked in a moment
later. They joined her at the conference table.
Though an unyielding melancholy had settled over him, David proceeded with all of the charade he could
muster. “Mr. Brubaker, have you found time to look at any of those projects I mentioned on the phone
the other day?”
“Please call me John, and yes I have. Three. The restored house in Highland Park was exquisite. If I
had six million dollars to spend on a house, I’d have bought it on the spot. The steak house on
Greenville Avenue shows your understanding of the restaurant business. But that country club dining
room. Unbelievable. I’ve never seen anything like it. I spent two hours there, amazed by the incredible
attention to detail.”
David smiled, though he felt more like walking out of the room. He continued, calling upon his well-
honed business acumen to proceed under adverse circumstances. “That was the only project I ever
worked on with an unlimited budget. The owner’s an eccentric fast food millionaire. That clubhouse is
his passion. It cost him five hundred a square foot, mostly due to his hair-trigger change orders. The
money was virtually no object.”
“Well, that’s not quite the case with Tri-State Development. We have a pretty liberal budget but it does
have limits. Nevertheless, I’m convinced you have a unique ability to bring stone, wood and plaster
together.”
David nodded at his colleague. “That’s why Don’s here. He was involved in both of those restaurant
projects. He brings the stone and wood together. We just provide the means. Don’s one of the most
notable architects in Dallas.”
Don Dagady leaned forward. “I wouldn’t know about that, but David does keep me busy with these
wonderful projects.”
“Well gentlemen,” said John Brubaker, “we have a budget of one point three million for this restaurant,
excluding the real estate of course. We believe it’s an exciting concept. If it works, it’ll be the prototype
for future locations.”
The meeting continued. David left the room just once to splash cold water on his face. Two hours later,
he concluded by saying: “Looks like we’ve covered the preliminary details gentlemen.” Flipping through
the papers before him, he had reached the point in the meeting where he knew he had gotten through it.
“The time table, the budget, the required estimates for the bankers . . .” He looked up. “That’s what we
need to get started.” He looked at Don Dagady. “You have a good idea of what John’s looking for?”
Don nodded. David paused, wondering if he had overlooked anything, wondering if anyone other than
Janie had noticed his distraction. He looked at John Brubaker. “Will you need time to look around a
little before we proceed?”
“Oh no,” Brubaker said, stuffing documents back into his briefcase. “I’m sold. I want you to get started
as quickly as possible.”
“Okay then. My attorney is out of town . . . “ David nearly lost his composure. He’ll be gone a week.
David pictured his best friend, the man he had confided in, walking abruptly out of the restaurant. What
if he shuns me when he returns? How do I explain it to Linda? He had a compelling urge to stand, walk
out of the room, but only a few seconds remained. Get this over with. Scanning the faces watching him,
he drew a calming breath and carried on. “My attorney will be back in a week to draw up the contract.
But that won’t cause a delay. Don will start the design blueprints right away. We can fret over the
contract later next week.”
The men stood and shook hands. All but David started toward the door. Clutching the files in her arm,
Betty glanced back from the doorframe.
“Something bothering you, David?” A middle-age, no nonsense kind of woman, her voice hinted
concern.
David wished she had walked out with the others. Evidently he had not been as composed as he
thought. He was in no mood to explain.
“Nothing to worry about, Betty. Got a few things on my mind.”
She knew by his tone he didn’t want to talk, but she also knew he hadn’t been himself for a while now.
“Then you haven’t forgotten how to smile?”
He forced a smile, then said: “There’s nothing to worry about. Thanks for asking though.”
She looked at him a moment longer. “Anything you need before I leave?”
“No. I’m out of here in a few minutes myself.”
He drifted over to the window when she closed the door and looked down at the deserted construction
site. The crew had left for the day. He stood transfixed, wondering how the day’s events were going to
affect the rest of his life. If only he had kept his mouth shut. If only he could get in the car and drive, get
away for a few days himself.
* * *
James entered his house through the kitchen door at five-thirty. It had been a long and unnerving
afternoon rearranging his schedule for the benefit of a secluded week in San Diego. He nearly walked
past his wife without noticing her. His mind was on packing a light suitcase. He had paid full fare for the
last flight out to San Diego and would be in the air by ten PM. Shasha looked up when he opened the
door and watched him cross the kitchen, his expression suggesting thoughts a million miles away.
“I’ve seen that look before,” she said just as he was about to walk out of the kitchen. “Guess your nose
will be glued to a contract until two o’clock again.”
He turned toward the sound of her voice. “Oh . . . hi sexy,” he said wearily. He started toward her,
closing his arms around her waist as he neared. “No reading tonight. Got a call from San Diego this
afternoon. Hank Thompson. Thinks he has an emergency. Sorry baby, I have to go out there.”
“When?” she asked warily.
“Now, tonight.” He shrugged with a hapless smile, as if to remind her of a lawyer’s thankless
responsibilities.
Disappointment washed over her face. She looked over at the counter, at the food set out for dinner.
“Do you have time to eat?”
“Afraid not. My flight leaves at ten. I need to pack.”
Shasha hated this. He already looked exhausted and instead of a moment’s rest, he had to fly out to
California. Sometimes she wished he had chosen a different career, but he loved his work and never
complained. “How long will you be gone?”
Dreading her reaction, he stated it quickly. “A week.”
“A week! What kind of an emergency takes that long for crying out loud? You’re not even licensed in
California.”
James had agonized over lying to his wife all afternoon, but he had not realized the full impact of actually
doing it. A wave of dread came over him and he tasted it in his throat. Now he had to build on the lie
and it felt like an iron fist squeezing his heart. “I know, honey. But ever since I caught that late-fee
penalty that his own lawyers overlooked, he always calls me on complicated deals. This one’s
complicated. Negotiations included. That’s why it’ll take a week.”
“It’s just that I hate not seeing you everyday, even if it’s no more than your shiny head behind a contract.”
She turned toward the counter to continue cutting lettuce for the salads. Their three daughters would be
down for dinner any minute. She looked at him over her shoulder, apologetically, and said: “I know, I’m
being selfish.”
“Look at it this way: When the girls are grown, you and I’ll be going on these trips together.”
She smiled and nodded, wondering if it was really in him to slow down enough to enjoy having his wife
along on a business trip.
His eyes swept over her. Ponytail, lips their usual red, she was wearing tight shorts and a Spanish style
blouse that tied in the middle, leaving a peek at her navel. With no effort at all she was beautiful. Her
only complaint—her hips, which had expanded a couple of inches over the years; a subject that made
James smile inwardly when she sat down in front of a bowl of chocolate ice cream.
“I’m going upstairs to pack.”
Ten minutes later Shasha entered the bedroom. She strolled toward the bed to look at the small
suitcase he had been packing: shaving kit, pair of sandals, blue jeans, Docker shorts and a few folded
pullover shirts. She looked up when he walked out of the bathroom, his tie off, his shirt unbuttoned.
“You’re packing this stuff for business meetings?” she said, bewildered.
He glanced at the suitcase, suddenly aware his packing did not match the lie. The dread he felt in the
kitchen turned to instant panic. He stared wide-eyed at the small case as his mind grappled for a
supplement to the ever-expanding lie. “Uh . . . thought I’d use the garment bag for my suits.”
She dumped the suitcase on the bed. “Why not put this stuff in the garment bag, too? I’ll help.” She
thought for a moment, then asked: “Think two suits will do?”
“Sure,” he said, hiding relief.
Mired in self-contempt, he turned away from her and reached up to rub his neck. Oh God! I’m lying like
a dog. She came up to help me pack. You’re no good at this, asshole.
She started toward the closet, returning moments later with the garment bag in one hand and two suits in
the other.
“Looks like Janet might have a new boy friend,” she said, speaking casually of their middle daughter as
she organized his clothes inside the bag.
He looked at her for a moment to reorient his thoughts. “That’s supposed to be great news?” he said
sarcastically.
“I for one think it is great news. I don’t like the girls focusing on one boy too long.”
“I don’t like them focusing on one boy, ever.”
Shasha looked at him, incredulous. She had yet to get through his thick head that his daughters were
growing up. “Anyway, you know I can’t resist listening in on their phone conversations when the
opportunity arises . . .”
“You picked up the extension!”
“James! You know I wouldn’t do that. Now shut-up and listen.” Placing the casual clothes he had
gathered into the pockets of the garment bag, she continued. “I simply overheard her talking to a friend.
It was about a new boy who enrolled near the end of the semester. The conversation included all the
customary giggling. Didn’t hear much because she noticed me and started talking in a lower tone.”
“So the girls know you eavesdrop?”
“Of course they do. They know their mother.” She glanced him over. “Sure you don’t have time for
dinner?”
“You know airport security these days. Never can predict how long it’ll take. I better get on over there.”
In fact he did have a little extra time, but he was desperate for a stretch of solitude and calm. Adding the
anguish of lying to Shasha on top of his emotions over David’s sudden confession, it took considerable
effort to remain composed. Had he not been in turmoil, he would not have overlooked the need to pack
a bag that matched the lie.
He watched the loving care she used in packing the garment bag, thinking of how much he loved her.
They had shared life’s challenges longer than he could remember; but from the beginning, though he
considered doing so a thousand times, he never talked to her about his bisexuality; he couldn’t. He
remembered the phone call he received from his roommate three years after graduation. Randal had
taken a job in New York and his company’s annual convention was being held in Dallas. He had called
to find out if James might be interested in getting together when he got to town. It wasn’t easy, but he
declined, including even a casual lunch. Shasha was all ready pregnant with their second daughter
then. James knew, by setting eyes on his old roommate again, the likelihood of making excuses for a
rendezvous.
His thoughts returned to matters at hand. Shasha was looking at him, her head tilted quizzically.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked.
“Oh, nothing really. Just how tired I am tonight.”
“I can’t believe they expect you to fly all the way to California after working all day. Can’t it wait ‘til
morning?”
“Hank wants to get an early start. Sorry, honey.”
Shasha shook her head, exasperated. “So what do you want to wear on the plane?”
“Something comfortable. Khakis and a pull-over.”
She went into the closet and returned to a husband standing near the bed in a pair of white cotton
briefs. Her eyes took on that sensuous gleam that never failed to redirect his train of thought. “Well, now
I remember why I’m going to miss you this week, big boy.”
Tossing the khakis and shirt onto the bed, she came up behind him when he leaned over to zip the
garment bag. He felt her hands slide down his back, the heat of her body against his. Her hands
rounded his waist and came up over his stomach and chest. The conflicts in his brain collided like
fighting rams. He closed his eyes, tempted with second thoughts about leaving; but no, he had to go.
He had to be alone for a while, to deal with the circumstances David had imposed.
“Trying to make me forget I have to leave?”
“Think I could?” she asked, sliding her hand under the waistband of his briefs.
“Resorting to those tactics, maybe.”
Twenty awkward minutes later he was on his way to the airport.
* * *
David was home by six-thirty.
He took a bottle of beer from the refrigerator and walked absentmindedly through the kitchen and on to
the bedroom. After pulling off his work clothes, he stepped into a favorite pair of cotton shorts with a
comfortable elastic waistband. Exiting through the den, he crossed the deck and stretched out on a
chase lounge near the pool, still lost in a fog of gloom. His world had evolved into a state of change,
now that James knew about his lifelong secret. That troubled him. His best friend’s alarming reaction
felt like another weight to bear. He had wanted someone to talk to. Instead of a sense of relief, he got a
new dilemma to feed the tension in his shoulders.
Leaning forward to scratch his neck, he watched Linda rearrange the deck for their outdoor dinner. She
looked up and smiled, a good sign his preoccupation hadn’t drawn her attention, at least for the
moment. His wife was among the growing number expressing concern.
Guess I ought to walk around smiling all the time.
It stood to reason those in his life would comment if his behavior had changed. It’s just that he didn’t
realize it had become that obvious. He resolved to be more conscious of the mood swings and the way
people observed him.
But the guilt. It struck a blow every time he looked at Linda. Just admitting his secret to James seemed
like an act of infidelity. Guilt. It set in every time his eyes locked on a pair of broad shoulders or
forearms darkened with hair or sweat streaking down a construction worker’s back. It came in being a
man his wife didn’t know, in harboring a secret he could never share. What would become of his
marriage if she knew of his inclination for the firmer contours of masculine flesh and a man’s smell?
Now this thing with James. He felt alone when James walked out of the restaurant, isolated, coupled
with an intense need to know why he so suddenly had to disappear for a week.
A week! It loomed like the longest seven days he would ever live through. A whole week with questions
haunting him every minute of every day. Nothing could draw his mind from dwelling on it, from dragging
the hours into days.
He watched Linda fire up the grill, wearing those tight, worn out blue jeans, the ones that so delightfully
accentuated the feminine curve of her hips. He felt a rush of affection, aware she stirred him as always.
Though it had never been a staggering concern, he had wondered if a sexual experience with a man
might somehow diminish his attraction for her. But as do her many sensual nuances and the suggestive
clothes she often wore around the house, the blue jeans effectively dispelled that particular concern.
Twenty years. David not only still loved her, he loved to look at her, to watch her go about her routines.
He considered her the perfect woman, as youthful and sexy at forty-two as the day they married; breasts
of average size, waist narrow, hips appealingly mature, a natural beauty with a ruddy complexion rarely
enhanced by makeup. She wore her straight, sandy brown hair short, without a lot of fuss. It matched
her auburn eyes and gave her a carefree, feisty look. Pregnant with their son, she had dropped out of
college and spent much of her time after that assisting with those early construction projects, never
bothered by the grit and noise and heat. He remembered being enchanted by her intensity in choosing
colors and materials to finish out a job. Watching her go back into the house, he could have easily
followed her in for an hour in bed that very moment. Given a choice, he would never carry a secret that
couldn’t be shared with the woman who had supported him, who had steeled herself through his years of
risk taking and had loved him in spite of everything for two decades.
He reached for the beer and took a long swallow. Beyond the new circumstances with James, the
problem was to find a way to deal with the guilt. He leaned back and stared into the glint of evening sun
across the pool. The guilt. They would be eighty years old one day. He would tell her that he’s
bisexual. She would laugh and say she never had a clue. They would be too old to be concerned by
such things. Until then, he’d have to live with his silent demons and quit allowing it to be written on his
face.
The door swung opened and Linda stepped back out. She walked over to join him.
“Have a good day today, lover?” she said, taking the chair next to his.
“We got the contract on that restaurant construction.”
“I’m glad to hear you’re not forgetting all your business meetings these days,” she said, staring up into
the low limbs of the live oak that shaded the pool.
He turned and looked at her a moment. “You know about that?”
Their eyes met. “You didn’t want me to know?”
“Well I wasn’t keeping it from you, but I am curious how you heard about it.”
“I had lunch with Shasha today.”
David’s gaze fell back over the water. Shasha knew! Why did James tell her about that? Why did I talk
to him today? I never should have brought it up.
“David? Did you hear me?”
“Uh, yeah. You and Shasha had lunch.”
She studied him for a moment. “Honey, why have you been so preoccupied lately? It’s really starting to
worry me. I’m hearing comments about it. Betty mentioned it the other day. Shasha brought it up today
during lunch.”
“Betty mentioned it?”
“The other day when I called you at the office. She answered the phone. It’s not that she sounded
concerned—she just mentioned you seem to have a lot on your mind these days.”
“Shasha knew I missed that meeting?”
“James talked to her about it. Evidently he’s concerned, too. He couldn’t believe you forgot an
important meeting. That’s what I’m talking about here. People have to repeat themselves two or three
times to get your attention. You always blow it off. Now even James is worried about you.”
“I saw him today. We talked about it.” He looked across the pool, reminded again of James’s quick
decision to go to California. He felt the panic creeping back in. He didn’t want to talk about all of this
just now. He remembered something he had been thinking about that would divert the conversation.
“Honey, it’s nothing. Maybe it’s time we spend a couple of days on a beach somewhere. Actually, I’ve
been a little burned out at work lately. I’ve thought about slowing down some. Been thinking about that
new Thunderbird you like so much. Maybe we should get one and hit the road now and then.”
Her eyes brightened. “Well David, if you’re asking my opinion, I’m all for it.” Her head tilted with
curiosity. “What do you mean by slowing down?”
“I want more time off. Guess I’m tired of the same old routine. Now that Jeff rarely comes home from
college these days, it seems like you and I should have more time to spend together.” He watched the
concern fade from her eyes. The diversion had brightened her mood as well as his.
She smiled and leaned forward to kiss him. “This is downright exciting.” She thought for a moment.
“Couldn’t you phase out some of those mundane projects? Store-fronts, things like that. It would free up
your time and it might keep you from feeling burned-out.”
“I thought about that. It’s a good idea, but those routine projects usually bring in the best income. You
know, fewer fickle clients, fewer change orders, and it’s always easier to line out subcontractors on
those jobs. If we’re going to start buying convertibles and living a carefree lifestyle, I’d rather not give up
the bigger margins.”
“Then maybe its time to let Johnny handle those jobs. He’s been with us long enough. He can handle it,
especially with Betty to fall back on. She knows how you think and knows how to make a decision.”
As if the same idea had been waiting in his subconscious, he liked the sound of it immediately. He
reached out and ran his hand over her leg and smiled. “That’s a perfect approach. He’s been hinting for
a raise lately. This would give me an opportunity to give him one, along with the additional
responsibilities of a promotion.” He thought for a moment, then added: “I could hire a new site
supervisor to take over what he’s doing now. If all I have to worry about is closing deals and special
projects, I could plan around what you and I want to do.”
She swooshed her hand at a honeybee buzzing her hair.
“Don’t swat at it and it won’t sting you,” he said.
When the bee flew away, she looked at him with a gleam in her eyes. “I’m excited about this, David. I
had no idea you were thinking about taking more time off. Shasha’s been talking about Destin beach.
We could all go together.”
This brought him back to thinking about James. After what happened today, would James be ready for
the four of them to vacation together? It seemed unlikely, not after that abrupt departure and the sudden
need to be alone for a week. Why? Why would a man leave so suddenly just because he learned his
best friend is bisexual? David feared the outcome of James’s return was far too unpredictable.
Linda came to her feet. David looked at her ass, distracted again. “Those jeans shrink when you
washed them last time?”
“What?” She quickly looked down, lifting the lower seam of her blouse.
David realized immediately he had asked a question no man should ask a forty-two year old woman.
“Does it look like I’ve gained weight?” She sounded alarmed. She sucked in her belly but the
waistband was still tight around the soft flesh.
“Uh . . .”
“I’ve had these five years.” She looked at him, distraught. “Do they look too tight?”
For these occasions, he had become adept at fast thinking. “They’re too sexy. Don’t you know better
than to turn-on a middle-aged man who hasn’t had dinner? Bad for the heart.”
A knowing smile formed on her lips. “Bullshit.”
“What are we having?”
“Rib-eyes and salad.”
He remembered the lunch he didn’t eat and his stomach growled. “Sounds perfect,” he said, eyeing the
jeans. “I’ll be looking forward to dessert, too.”
She shook her head and turned to go check the grill.
Watching her, torn by conflict, he sighed. Confiding in James had been tougher than he had imagined,
and it only made things worse. What could he do but wait, get through the week and hope their
relationship would balance in time. Maybe James would find a way to accept it and let their lives get
back to normal.
* * *
James was awake by seven o’clock the next morning. He had taken a suite on the beach across the
bay from downtown San Diego. The second floor balcony overlooked a popular jogging trail, beyond
which a crowded beach stretched as far as the eye could see. The balcony provided a perfect view of
the Pacific Ocean.
He crawled out of bed and slipped on a pair of shorts, then went out to sit on the balcony with his first
cup of coffee. He sat staring down at the path, at the endless flow of joggers, bikers and people strolling
among the reckless antics of young skate boarders—oblivious to it all. Tunes from an oldies radio
station wafted up from an open window across the way, mingling with the soothing sound of nearby
waves. The ocean breeze settling on his skin was pleasantly unlike the sticky heat in Dallas.
A relentless battle of two images raged in his mind: that of the past, a male lover with whom he had
shared an apartment in college; and that of the future, his best friend, taking center stage in every
thought his brain produced. He remembered the anxiety etched on David’s face while trying to confess
his bisexuality. An ache formed in James’s heart that caused a silent groan. Leaning back in the chair,
stretching his muscular legs toward the railing, he gazed out over the sea, trying in vain to sort out this
new dilemma. His thoughts carried him back to his final days in school.
The college lover had not been an overly emotional affair, but it confirmed what he had known all along.
Though he and Shasha had fallen in love years before, a thousand miles separated them during his final
year in graduate school. When Randal eventually came on to him, he let it happen. It went on from
there, at first an occasional night in bed together that ultimately led to sleeping together every night. All
through college he never considered the company of another woman; but the roommate, he told himself,
was a good way to get that inclination out of his system before he and Shasha married.
Now David.
From the moment David uttered the word bisexual, James had not had a coherent thought. He faced
dealing with the fact that he and David shared the same inclinations. How could he continue to
suppress the hunger he bore all these years, almost from the day he left college; or sit across from
David to discuss a contract while trying to ignore the unspoken. How could he shower with him after a
workout, when he was already turning his back to that magnificent body to avoid revealing his thoughts?
How could he deal with any of this, now that he was aware of what David might be thinking, when it was
already so difficult to endure as his own private secret? Could he continue to deny what he felt for the
man he would forever face on a daily basis? And what about the many occasions they spent time
together with their wives? Would it not always be there, threatening to charge the air when they were
together with Shasha and Linda?
His hand tense, he took a sip of coffee, the smooth flavor finding its way down to churn with the acids in
his stomach. The answers seemed as elusive as the origins of mankind, the complications more
formidable than any legal challenge he ever faced.
He stood and leaned against the railing. A hundred yards past the churning foam, surfers bobbed on
their boards awaiting the next wave. Pairs lay on towels in the sand as far as the eye could see. Below,
an endless stream of people passed along the path, their expressions reflecting the thoughts of their
own private worlds. It was just his first morning in San Diego, his first moment to sit and contemplate in
this fine California weather. He still had the rest of the week to reflect, to find a way to adjust to new
circumstances at home, to think of a response for David. So why, he wondered, did a whole week
seem like such an impossibly short time?
| Copyright 2004 |
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