“So are you coming to dinner or what?”

“Just ‘cause you have good intentions, don’t mean your plans will work out the way you want them to. Your friends don’t like me, and I don’t like them. Why force it?” Steven plopped down on the couch and turned on the TV.

“Who’s that?”

“Nobody.”

“Is that the TV?”

“Yeah.”

David frowned. He wanted Steven’s full attention. “You don’t even know my friends, and they don’t know you. Besides, we have to get this over with. Come to dinner, please?”

“Don’t whine. I hate that.” Both men were quiet for a moment. Finally, Steven spoke. “Okay. I’ll come just to prove to your Pollyanna ass that sometimes you should leave well enough alone.”

“Whatever. Just have your gorgeous butt over here this Friday.”

“By the way, I had an interview for this new job yesterday. I think I got it. I mean, they still have to check my references, but I think I have a shot at it.”

“Great. Where? What’s the job?”

“It’s for a supervisor position in the mailroom for this insurance company. It’s not much, but it’s better than bein’ a deliveryman. I won’t have to do anymore liftin’.”

“Good. I’m so proud of you. I mean . . .” David became embarrassed. His cheeks flushed. “I’m happy for you. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” said Steven, chuckling. “So whachu doin’ right now?”

“I’m looking over the books. I’m thinking about my budget for a trip to Jamaica this summer.” He closed the program on the desktop computer.

“Ooh Jamaica mon. So you tink about goin’ to Jamaica.”

David laughed. “Yes mon. I’m tinking about going. Maybe take a friend with me.”

“And who would that be?”

“Randy’s always wanted to go.”

“Funny. How much does it cost?”

“Not too much. The whole trip’s estimated at fifteen hundred per person.”

“That’s it? I’ll just break open the piggy bank. I’m only fourteen hundred and ninety-nine dollars short. You talk about money like it grows on trees.”

“It does, remember? It’s paper. Paper comes from trees,” said David, grinning.

“For you! My money comes from sweatin’ and breakin’ my back.”

David’s grin quickly changed into a frown. “I work hard too. Maybe not the same way as you, but I put in long days, and sometimes, long nights.”

“You don’t have to get so defensive.”

“It’s just, sometimes I think you don’t appreciate that about me. Like just because I don’t break a sweat, I don’t deserve what I have.” David angrily turned off the monitor to his computer. His desk shook.

“I never said that.”

“You don’t have to. You express it.”

Steven sat up straight. “When have I ever made you feel that way?” He practically growled into the phone.

“You just did when you made a point of telling me how you earned your money. I shouldn’t be made to feel as if I have to justify how I earn a living. I work hard, and I have every right to enjoy myself however way I want.”

“That’s not what I meant. Damn.” Steven sighed. “Let’s not fight anymore. I’ll be there Friday.”

When David realized that he had won the argument, he smiled. “Six o’clock. Don’t be late. And you don’t have to bring anything. Just yourself.”
“All right. I’ll see you then.”

David made a kissing noise into the phone. Steven smiled wearily. He heard a click, and then David was gone. He looked at the TV. He wasn’t really watching. He ran over their conversation in his mind.

“I need to keep my cool. Shit, Jamaica.”

*****

The week passed too quickly for Steven. When Friday arrived, he found himself wishing that he had never agreed to dinner. A gnawing sensation in his gut told him that the night would be a disaster, but he didn’t dare back out. He didn’t want to disappoint David. His tension grew as he dressed. He became more anxious with each passing moment.

He surveyed his reflection in the full-length mirror, attached to the back of his bedroom door. His curly hair was immaculately groomed thanks to a lunchtime appointment with his barber. He had to forego a manicure due to lack of time. Today he was laden with more than enough packages. And typically on a day when he was in a rush, all of the addresses were from one end of Brooklyn to the other. Steven, always aware of his travel time, took his required hour for lunch, but he didn’t finish delivering packages until quitting time at four. He had to hustle home to get dressed. His watch read 6:15. He was running late.

He carefully checked his attire again. He was wearing tailor-made, brown leather cargo pants and an ivory, raw silk shirt. He smiled. His reflection smiled back at him. After a few minutes of mental appraisals, he turned away from the mirror feeling calmer and more confidant. He grabbed his wallet and keys from the bureau and left his apartment.

The May weather was holding as true spring weather; not too cold, not too warm, but Steven wasn’t taking any chances. He carried a black suede shirt/jacket just in case. When he emerged from the building, he turned right and headed for the subway. His train ride was quick and easy for rush hour, to which he was thankful. His total travel time was approximately a half hour from 145th street to 59th street. His watch read 6:47. He took a cab across town and up six blocks to David’s apartment.

David told him not to bring anything, but he knew better than to arrive empty handed. He stopped at a liquor store and purchased cognac. He was surprised when David opened the door. David was wearing jeans and a faded blue, button-down shirt. Steven suddenly felt overdressed. His anxiety returned.

“Come in. You look nice. What’s in the bag?”

“Cognac, and I’m overdressed.”

“You look fine. It’s okay. I cooked, so I’m allowed to look like a slob.”

He kissed Steven and closed the door behind him. Steven handed David his jacket. After David hung his jacket in the closet, he walked past Steven into the living room where his friends were already seated. Steven followed behind closely. When David stopped, Steven bumped into him. David stepped aside, looped his arm through Steven’s, and introduced everyone. He took the cognac from Steven and went to the kitchen to check on dinner. Randy, who had always bucked for attention, was the first to speak.

“Steven, so happy that you could join us. David was skeptical about you showing up, but I told him that that was nonsense. I knew that you had better manners than that, or else David wouldn’t be dating you. He has never dated ill-mannered men. Always gentlemen. What a snazzy outfit, unobtrusive neutrals but assertive leather. I like that, classy with a splash of panache. Is that Saks? Where’s dinner? I’m famished.”

Randy spoke in a machinegun stream of sentences. Charles and Brad were smirking at Randy’s comments. It was as if they knew a joke that Steven hadn’t been made privy to.

“Maybe if you didn’t talk so much, you wouldn’t burn so much energy, and you wouldn’t be so hungry,” said Charles. “Steven, have a seat. Don’t stand there like yesterday’s discarded trash.”

He had a pinched, nasal voice that matched his gangly appearance. He resembled a squirrelly librarian instead a stockbroker--his real occupation. His hands and feet looked too big for his body. They seemed to jut from his pinstriped suit. He was also going bald from the crown to his forehead. In a few years, he would comb the hair from one ear to the other in order to cover up the bald spot.

Randy was the opposite. He was blond, tanned, and athletic with a full head of thick hair, which he wore a tad too long. He looked perfect for the district manager position of a retail sportswear clothing chain--his occupation. He wore shorts, a blue sweatshirt, and sneakers. He was sprawled out on David’s loveseat, which allowed a full view of his toned, hairy legs.

Brad was average height and weight, and had nothing distinctive about him, except for his mid-section. He had a pot. He wore a t-shirt, sweats, and sneakers. Steven did another once over of David’s friends and realized that they had nothing on him as far as looks. He thought that Randy was worth a second glance, but he had never been attracted to men that resembled poster boys for the Nazi party. He liked white men who looked more Mediterranean. David’s olive skin, jet-black hair, and hazel eyes turned him on instantly. David returned to the living room before he could answer.

“Dinner is served.”

*****

David placed a pan of lasagna in the center of the table between a loaf of garlic bread and a large salad in a clear glass salad bowl. He sat at the head of the table while Steven took the seat to the right of him. Randy strategically placed himself on David’s left so that he was opposite of Steven. He wanted to look Steven directly in the eye. The other two men sat in the remaining chairs.

“Dig in,” said David.

Everyone placed a heaping square of hot, gooey lasagna on his plate. They ripped pieces of garlic bread from the loaf and spooned helpings of salad into salad bowls. David filled their glasses with red wine.

Randy held up his glass for a toast. “To the happy couple. May you be happier in this relationship than you have in the past relationships.” Everyone raised his glass. When they thought Randy was finished with the toast, they took a sip. “And any future relationships,” he added. David almost choked on his wine. He grabbed his napkin and wiped his mouth.

“He’s just kidding,” said Brad. “Randy has a horrible sense of humor. It comes from taking steroids.”

“Steroids, my ass. You wished you looked as good as me. So Steven, was David everything that you’d thought he’d be?”

Steven sat his glass on the table and cleared his throat. “He was more than I expected.”

“Yeah, we think he’s a big pain in the ass too,” said Brad. He winked at David. David flicked his tongue at Brad.

They finished the meal in silence. Steven was too nervous to eat. He didn’t want to be rude, so he only had one helping. David and his friends stuffed themselves. After dinner, they repaired to the living room. David returned to the kitchen to make coffee.

Randy lay across half of the sofa with his leg dangling over the arm. Steven sat next to him. Brad and Charles occupied the loveseat. Charles had removed his jacket, tie, and shirt. They sat in silence and allowed their food to digest. David returned with a tray of coffee. He placed the tray on the coffee table and sat on the carpeted floor.

“So is everyone getting acquainted?”

“We were sitting here, listening to our arteries harden,” said Charles.

“Not mine,” said Randy. “I’m in great shape. What about you Steven? You look like you work out. What do you press?” Brad groaned, and Charles rolled his eyes. “Pay no attention to these weaklings. Where do you work out?”

“I go to the bathhouse in Harlem. I press about two hundred.”

“A serious lifter! You need to get David in there. He looks wonderful now, but one day it’s all going to catch up to him. That Adonis figure won’t last forever without a little help from Mr. Bicep Curl. Tell ‘em Steven. I’ve tried to get these sissies into the gym, but they always wimp out. Oh sure, they’ll go when the spring begins just to get into some sort of shape for the summer. Like that will really make up for a year of sitting on their asses, but then they always give up.” Steven smiled. David flicked his tongue at Randy.

“I run in the mornings, plus I get enough exercise running around the gallery. I eat what I want because my metabolism is so high,” said David.

“You’re metabolism won’t stay that high,” said Randy.

“No, but it’s always going to be higher than it should be. I have Graves’ disease. Hyperthyroidism. When I was in college, I had radiation treatments to shrink my thyroid. My metabolism has slowed down a little, but it’s still pretty high.”

“I didn’t know that,” said Brad. “So that’s how you stay so thin. I wish I had that problem. I even think about food and I put on weight. It sucks because the fat sits right on my middle, just like my beer-guzzling father.”

“Save it for therapy, Brad,” said Randy. “We’re being rude to Steven. So Steven, tell us about yourself. I can confirm that David doesn’t kiss and tell. We don’t know a thing about you.”

“What would you like to know?”

Steven exuded calm aloofness on the surface, but underneath the cool exterior were a bundle of tightly knotted nerves. He had dreaded this moment all week.

“What do you do? Where do you work? Why are you dating David?”

“I can’t believe you,” said Brad, chuckling.

“I work for Choice Delivery. Deliveryman. I love basketball, jazz, and workin’ out. I live in Harlem. No kids, so no baggage.”

David suddenly realized that Steven was nervous. Instead of his usual deep, smooth bass, Steven’s pitch was a little higher, and his words came out in a sort of staccato-military style.

“Ever been married?” asked Randy.

“Nope. Never wanted to.”

“No? Because David wants to stroll down that aisle one day.” Steven perked up. He looked at David.

“Is that legal?” asked Steven.

“Some states allow gay marriages, but Congress passed a law in ’96, which stated that the local governments didn’t have to recognize them if they didn’t want to. New York City doesn’t, but I’m hopeful,” said David.

“See, he really knows his subject matter,” said Randy, smirking.

“I don’t wanna get married,” said Steven.

David looked down in his coffee cup. “I don’t see anything wrong with two people in love, committing their lives to each other.”

“I don’t see what difference it makes. Married or not, we’ll still be together,” replied Steven.

“I understand what you mean. I--”

“Randy wait,” said David. “So you wouldn’t take that step with me?”
Steven leaned forward and sighed. He didn’t want to argue, especially in front of David’s friends. They seemed poised for a performance, and he didn’t want to be their entertainment.

“Look, we get married and it doesn’t work, then we’d have to get a divorce. All that legality and money just so we can live together? It doesn’t seem like it’s worth it.”

“Steven, don’t be so negative,” said Brad. “Davy, I’m with you. I want to grow old with someone, and I want that someone to be my spouse, right Charles?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Charles.

“You’re not married to that woman! You’re just roommates,” said Randy, grinning.

“I’m married,” snapped Charles. “I love my wife and she understands.”
Randy gently nudged Steven in the ribs with his elbow. “Charles sleeps around on his wife and with her blessing.”

“I don’t sleep around. Not really.” Charles looked directly at Steven. “It’s just one guy. She has her life and I have mine.”

“Basically, they’re both in the closet, but everyone knows that they’re gay,” said Randy.

“My wife isn’t gay!”

“Right. She has really good friends that just happen to be women who sleep over and keep her company when you go out with him,” said Randy sarcastically.

Steven started to relax now that he was no longer in the hot seat. He leaned back. David looked at him. He was still a little disappointed with Steven, but he decided to let it go for now.

“Enough picking on Charles, and no more prying into Steven’s life,” said David. “Unless you still feel like sharing?”

Everyone looked at Steven. He shrugged. “There’s not much left to tell.”

“Of course there is,” said Randy. “Like why are you a deliveryman at your age? Isn’t that kind of strenuous? I know you’re in great shape, but you’re getting a little long in the tooth. What’re your plans? Not planning on living off of David are you?” Randy laughed and nudged Steven again.

Steven could feel the anger growing inside of him. Randy spat out deliveryman as if it were the name of a new venereal disease. The vein in Steven’s neck stood out to the point where it looked to burst out of his skin.

“No, I don’t plan on livin’ off of David,” he snapped. “I haven’t depended on anyone since I left my father’s house fifteen years ago, and I never will. No matta what amount of money they have.”

“Whoa! Did I touch a soft spot?”

“No.”

“Stevie, I think you’re overreacting,” said Randy.

“It’s Steven. We don’t know each other that well. And I don’t think I am.” Steven faced Randy. “As a matta fact, I think you like startin’ trouble. I don’t know Charles, but that didn’t stop you from tellin’ all his business. How do you know if he wanted me to know about his marriage? You don’t. You just blurted it out.”

Randy sat up and frowned. He didn’t like for anyone to upstage him. “This isn’t about Charles. This is about me hitting a soft spot. You’re afraid that people will think you’re being kept,” he said, smiling wickedly.

“Stop!” yelled David. “Let’s try to have a nice, civilized evening.”

“There’s always one,” said Steven. He looked at Randy with all of the malevolence that he could muster. His nostrils were flared and his jaw was tight.

“Oh please! You can cut the ‘I’m a big, bad, black man attitude’ because I’m not afraid of you. If you’re not secure enough to handle the conversation . . .” Randy let his voice trail off.

Steven sprang to his feet. “Goodnight everyone. Nice meetin’ you Brad, Charles.” He stormed out of the living room.

“Steven wait!” David scrambled to his feet. He chased after Steven.

Randy laughed. Charles looked at him in disbelief. Brad was shaking his head. When Steven got to the front door, he ripped open the adjacent closet and hastily put on his jacket.

“Please don’t leave like this. Ignore Randy. Let’s go in the bedroom and talk.”

“I told you this evenin’ would be bad, but you had to push things. You know what, fuck your friend. I’m outta here.”

He ripped open the door and stormed out. The door slammed shut in David’s face. He looked at it in astonishment. He slowly walked back into the living room. His face was flushed. Charles was putting on his shirt. Brad and Randy were standing, ready to leave.

“I have never been so humiliated,” said David. Everyone looked at him. He was standing in the doorway of the living room, glaring at Randy.

“You should be,” said Randy. “But that’s how those people are. They’re so thin-skinned.”

“What did you say?” asked Brad.

“I said thin-skinned. They are. I don’t care if it sounds racist. I’d say it to his face. I’m tired of feeling like I have to apologize for every trespass that my ancestors might’ve done. Steven’s life is screwed up because he screwed it up, and it’s not my fault that he’s embarrassed by that.”

David’s eyes narrowed. “Randy. Get. Out. Of. My. House.” He spoke slowly, as if every word were its own sentence. Randy had never heard such iciness in his voice.

“Goodnight,” said Randy softly.

David waited until Randy was gone before he let the tears flow. Brad walked over and embraced him.

“It’s okay, Davy. You know how Randy is. I’m sure Steven will be okay. You guys’ll be fine.”

David cried into Brad’s shoulder. He wasn’t so sure if Steven and he would recover.

*****

David’s attempts to contact Steven over the weekend failed miserably. Steven let his machine screen all of his calls. David became desperate on Monday. He bought a dozen roses and went to see Steven. He arrived a little after seven to make sure that Steven would be home. Steven greeted him with a frown. David handed him the roses. He accepted them reluctantly.

David walked past him into the living room. He smelled a sweet, pungent odor that seemed remarkably familiar. A short Latino man was sitting on the sofa. He stubbed out something in an ashtray. David assumed that he was extinguishing a joint. Steven and his friend had been smoking marijuana.

“David, this is Brian. Brian, this is David. Look man, I’ll check you later.”

Brian stood and shook Steven’s hand in the way that most black and Latino men shook hands--a handclasp and a step forward so that their shoulders touched. He nodded in David’s direction and left Steven’s apartment. Steven placed the flowers on the coffee table. He sat next to David.

“I called all weekend. Why didn’t you call me back?”

“You know why,” said Steven. He looked at the coffee table in order to avoid eye contact. He didn’t want to go soft.

“Steven, I’m sorry. Randy’s an asshole, but you didn’t behave any better.”

“What? Your snotty ass friend started with me. He was tryin’ to embarrass me.”

“You’re right, but you could have been the bigger man and ignored him.”

“This is bullshit.”

“Why?”

“Why!”

“Yes, why is this bullshit?”

“You want me to let your friend slide. I don’t work like that David. I don’t take shit from nobody.”

“Randy asked you a simple question. If you felt like he was being too nosy, why didn’t you just tell him to mind his own business?”

“Because he wouldn’t have stopped with that. He would have started on somethin’ else.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t even know Randy.”

“No maybe you don’t know him. Randy was pickin’ on his own friends. Why would he go easy on me?”

“We’re not going anywhere with this. You have your opinion about what happened, and I have mine.”

“You’re right. I don’t think that this is gonna work. As a matta fact, I think we need space.”

“What?”

“You heard what I said. We need space.”

Steven slumped into the sofa and sulked. David looked at him and almost agreed. But his feelings wouldn’t allow him too. He was in love. Steven looked like a sullen little boy. His impertinence was almost cute to David. He reached out and took Steven’s hand in his.

“I don’t think should stop seeing each other. Maybe we should wait a little while longer before we take this step.”

Steven was shaking his head from side to side. “It won’t make a difference. We’re from two different worlds. Everything about your world makes me feel bad about mine. I can’t afford to go off to Jamaica whenever I feel like it. I don’t outright own anything I have; not even the clothes on my back. Everything I own is bought on credit. I owe someone for my whole life. Sometimes I feel like less than a man because of it.

Whenever I see you: your car, your home, your business, it’s a constant reminder of my shortcomin’s. I know you don’t do this on purpose, but I can’t help how I feel. Randy was right to some extent. If I lived with you, then I would be kept. I wouldn’t be able to contribute anything to our relationship.”

“Steven, what I want from you money can’t buy.”

“But we live in a world where everything else costs. Trust me, this is for the best.”

David felt defeated. He was out of arguments. He knew that he couldn’t give Steven what he needed most. Pride. David leaned over and kissed Steven on the cheek. He stood and walked away. Steven heard the front door close. He looked down at the roses. His eyes misted over, and a lump formed in his throat. He leaned over and picked up the bushel. He inhaled, breathing in the perfumed scent of love and exhaled slowly. Then he swallowed hard to hold back the tears. Despite his efforts, they fell anyway. He didn’t bother to wipe them away.










“What’s Love Got To Do With It?”
By
Tanya Toppin



“So are you coming to dinner or what?”

“Just ‘cause you have good intentions, don’t mean your plans will work out the way you want them to. Your friends don’t like me, and I don’t like them. Why force it?” Steven plopped down on the couch and turned on the TV.

“Who’s that?”

“Nobody.”

“Is that the TV?”
“Yeah.”

David frowned. He wanted Steven’s full attention. “You don’t even know my friends, and they don’t know you. Besides, we have to get this over with. Come to dinner, please?”

“Don’t whine. I hate that.” Both men were quiet for a moment. Finally, Steven spoke. “Okay. I’ll come just to prove to your Pollyanna ass that sometimes you should leave well enough alone.”

“Whatever. Just have your gorgeous butt over here this Friday.”

“By the way, I had an interview for this new job yesterday. I think I got it. I mean, they still have to check my references, but I think I have a shot at it.”
“Great. Where? What’s the job?”

“It’s for a supervisor position in the mailroom for this insurance company. It’s not much, but it’s better than bein’ a deliveryman. I won’t have to do anymore liftin’.”

“Good. I’m so proud of you. I mean . . .” David became embarrassed. His cheeks flushed. “I’m happy for you. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” said Steven, chuckling. “So whachu doin’ right now?”

“I’m looking over the books. I’m thinking about my budget for a trip to Jamaica this summer.” He closed the program on the desktop computer.

“Ooh Jamaica mon. So you tink about goin’ to Jamaica.”

David laughed. “Yes mon. I’m tinking about going. Maybe take a friend with me.”

“And who would that be?”

“Randy’s always wanted to go.”

“Funny. How much does it cost?”

“Not too much. The whole trip’s estimated at fifteen hundred per person.”

“That’s it? I’ll just break open the piggy bank. I’m only fourteen hundred and ninety-nine dollars short. You talk about money like it grows on trees.”

“It does, remember? It’s paper. Paper comes from trees,” said David, grinning.

“For you! My money comes from sweatin’ and breakin’ my back.”

David’s grin quickly changed into a frown. “I work hard too. Maybe not the same way as you, but I put in long days, and sometimes, long nights.”

“You don’t have to get so defensive.”

“It’s just, sometimes I think you don’t appreciate that about me. Like just because I don’t break a sweat, I don’t deserve what I have.” David angrily turned off the monitor to his computer. His desk shook.

“I never said that.”

“You don’t have to. You express it.”

Steven sat up straight. “When have I ever made you feel that way?” He practically growled into the phone.

“You just did when you made a point of telling me how you earned your money. I shouldn’t be made to feel as if I have to justify how I earn a living. I work hard, and I have every right to enjoy myself however way I want.”

“That’s not what I meant. Damn.” Steven sighed. “Let’s not fight anymore. I’ll be there Friday.”

When David realized that he had won the argument, he smiled. “Six o’clock. Don’t be late. And you don’t have to bring anything. Just yourself.”
“All right. I’ll see you then.”

David made a kissing noise into the phone. Steven smiled wearily. He heard a click, and then David was gone. He looked at the TV. He wasn’t really watching. He ran over their conversation in his mind.

“I need to keep my cool. Shit, Jamaica.”

*****

The week passed too quickly for Steven. When Friday arrived, he found himself wishing that he had never agreed to dinner. A gnawing sensation in his gut told him that the night would be a disaster, but he didn’t dare back out. He didn’t want to disappoint David. His tension grew as he dressed. He became more anxious with each passing moment.

He surveyed his reflection in the full-length mirror, attached to the back of his bedroom door. His curly hair was immaculately groomed thanks to a lunchtime appointment with his barber. He had to forego a manicure due to lack of time. Today he was laden with more than enough packages. And typically on a day when he was in a rush, all of the addresses were from one end of Brooklyn to the other. Steven, always aware of his travel time, took his required hour for lunch, but he didn’t finish delivering packages until quitting time at four. He had to hustle home to get dressed. His watch read 6:15. He was running late.

He carefully checked his attire again. He was wearing tailor-made, brown leather cargo pants and an ivory, raw silk shirt. He smiled. His reflection smiled back at him. After a few minutes of mental appraisals, he turned away from the mirror feeling calmer and more confidant. He grabbed his wallet and keys from the bureau and left his apartment.

The May weather was holding as true spring weather; not too cold, not too warm, but Steven wasn’t taking any chances. He carried a black suede shirt/jacket just in case. When he emerged from the building, he turned right and headed for the subway. His train ride was quick and easy for rush hour, to which he was thankful. His total travel time was approximately a half hour from 145th street to 59th street. His watch read 6:47. He took a cab across town and up six blocks to David’s apartment.

David told him not to bring anything, but he knew better than to arrive empty handed. He stopped at a liquor store and purchased cognac. He was surprised when David opened the door. David was wearing jeans and a faded blue, button-down shirt. Steven suddenly felt overdressed. His anxiety returned.

“Come in. You look nice. What’s in the bag?”

“Cognac, and I’m overdressed.”

“You look fine. It’s okay. I cooked, so I’m allowed to look like a slob.”

He kissed Steven and closed the door behind him. Steven handed David his jacket. After David hung his jacket in the closet, he walked past Steven into the living room where his friends were already seated. Steven followed behind closely. When David stopped, Steven bumped into him. David stepped aside, looped his arm through Steven’s, and introduced everyone. He took the cognac from Steven and went to the kitchen to check on dinner. Randy, who had always bucked for attention, was the first to speak.

“Steven, so happy that you could join us. David was skeptical about you showing up, but I told him that that was nonsense. I knew that you had better manners than that, or else David wouldn’t be dating you. He has never dated ill-mannered men. Always gentlemen. What a snazzy outfit, unobtrusive neutrals but assertive leather. I like that, classy with a splash of panache. Is that Saks? Where’s dinner? I’m famished.”

Randy spoke in a machinegun stream of sentences. Charles and Brad were smirking at Randy’s comments. It was as if they knew a joke that Steven hadn’t been made privy to.

“Maybe if you didn’t talk so much, you wouldn’t burn so much energy, and you wouldn’t be so hungry,” said Charles. “Steven, have a seat. Don’t stand there like yesterday’s discarded trash.”

He had a pinched, nasal voice that matched his gangly appearance. He resembled a squirrelly librarian instead a stockbroker--his real occupation. His hands and feet looked too big for his body. They seemed to jut from his pinstriped suit. He was also going bald from the crown to his forehead. In a few years, he would comb the hair from one ear to the other in order to cover up the bald spot.

Randy was the opposite. He was blond, tanned, and athletic with a full head of thick hair, which he wore a tad too long. He looked perfect for the district manager position of a retail sportswear clothing chain--his occupation. He wore shorts, a blue sweatshirt, and sneakers. He was sprawled out on David’s loveseat, which allowed a full view of his toned, hairy legs.

Brad was average height and weight, and had nothing distinctive about him, except for his mid-section. He had a pot. He wore a t-shirt, sweats, and sneakers. Steven did another once over of David’s friends and realized that they had nothing on him as far as looks. He thought that Randy was worth a second glance, but he had never been attracted to men that resembled poster boys for the Nazi party. He liked white men who looked more Mediterranean. David’s olive skin, jet-black hair, and hazel eyes turned him on instantly. David returned to the living room before he could answer.

“Dinner is served.”

*****

David placed a pan of lasagna in the center of the table between a loaf of garlic bread and a large salad in a clear glass salad bowl. He sat at the head of the table while Steven took the seat to the right of him. Randy strategically placed himself on David’s left so that he was opposite of Steven. He wanted to look Steven directly in the eye. The other two men sat in the remaining chairs.

“Dig in,” said David.

Everyone placed a heaping square of hot, gooey lasagna on his plate. They ripped pieces of garlic bread from the loaf and spooned helpings of salad into salad bowls. David filled their glasses with red wine.

Randy held up his glass for a toast. “To the happy couple. May you be happier in this relationship than you have in the past relationships.” Everyone raised his glass. When they thought Randy was finished with the toast, they took a sip. “And any future relationships,” he added. David almost choked on his wine. He grabbed his napkin and wiped his mouth.

“He’s just kidding,” said Brad. “Randy has a horrible sense of humor. It comes from taking steroids.”

“Steroids, my ass. You wished you looked as good as me. So Steven, was David everything that you’d thought he’d be?”

Steven sat his glass on the table and cleared his throat. “He was more than I expected.”

“Yeah, we think he’s a big pain in the ass too,” said Brad. He winked at David. David flicked his tongue at Brad.

They finished the meal in silence. Steven was too nervous to eat. He didn’t want to be rude, so he only had one helping. David and his friends stuffed themselves. After dinner, they repaired to the living room. David returned to the kitchen to make coffee.

Randy lay across half of the sofa with his leg dangling over the arm. Steven sat next to him. Brad and Charles occupied the loveseat. Charles had removed his jacket, tie, and shirt. They sat in silence and allowed their food to digest. David returned with a tray of coffee. He placed the tray on the coffee table and sat on the carpeted floor.

“So is everyone getting acquainted?”

“We were sitting here, listening to our arteries harden,” said Charles.

“Not mine,” said Randy. “I’m in great shape. What about you Steven? You look like you work out. What do you press?” Brad groaned, and Charles rolled his eyes. “Pay no attention to these weaklings. Where do you work out?”

“I go to the bathhouse in Harlem. I press about two hundred.”

“A serious lifter! You need to get David in there. He looks wonderful now, but one day it’s all going to catch up to him. That Adonis figure won’t last forever without a little help from Mr. Bicep Curl. Tell ‘em Steven. I’ve tried to get these sissies into the gym, but they always wimp out. Oh sure, they’ll go when the spring begins just to get into some sort of shape for the summer. Like that will really make up for a year of sitting on their asses, but then they always give up.” Steven smiled. David flicked his tongue at Randy.

“I run in the mornings, plus I get enough exercise running around the gallery. I eat what I want because my metabolism is so high,” said David.

“You’re metabolism won’t stay that high,” said Randy.

“No, but it’s always going to be higher than it should be. I have Graves’ disease. Hyperthyroidism. When I was in college, I had radiation treatments to shrink my thyroid. My metabolism has slowed down a little, but it’s still pretty high.”

“I didn’t know that,” said Brad. “So that’s how you stay so thin. I wish I had that problem. I even think about food and I put on weight. It sucks because the fat sits right on my middle, just like my beer-guzzling father.”

“Save it for therapy, Brad,” said Randy. “We’re being rude to Steven. So Steven, tell us about yourself. I can confirm that David doesn’t kiss and tell. We don’t know a thing about you.”

“What would you like to know?”

Steven exuded calm aloofness on the surface, but underneath the cool exterior were a bundle of tightly knotted nerves. He had dreaded this moment all week.

“What do you do? Where do you work? Why are you dating David?”

“I can’t believe you,” said Brad, chuckling.

“I work for Choice Delivery. Deliveryman. I love basketball, jazz, and workin’ out. I live in Harlem. No kids, so no baggage.”

David suddenly realized that Steven was nervous. Instead of his usual deep, smooth bass, Steven’s pitch was a little higher, and his words came out in a sort of staccato-military style.

“Ever been married?” asked Randy.

“Nope. Never wanted to.”

“No? Because David wants to stroll down that aisle one day.” Steven perked up. He looked at David.

“Is that legal?” asked Steven.

“Some states allow gay marriages, but Congress passed a law in ’96, which stated that the local governments didn’t have to recognize them if they didn’t want to. New York City doesn’t, but I’m hopeful,” said David.

“See, he really knows his subject matter,” said Randy, smirking.

“I don’t wanna get married,” said Steven.

David looked down in his coffee cup. “I don’t see anything wrong with two people in love, committing their lives to each other.”

“I don’t see what difference it makes. Married or not, we’ll still be together,” replied Steven.

“I understand what you mean. I--”

“Randy wait,” said David. “So you wouldn’t take that step with me?”
Steven leaned forward and sighed. He didn’t want to argue, especially in front of David’s friends. They seemed poised for a performance, and he didn’t want to be their entertainment.

“Look, we get married and it doesn’t work, then we’d have to get a divorce. All that legality and money just so we can live together? It doesn’t seem like it’s worth it.”

“Steven, don’t be so negative,” said Brad. “Davy, I’m with you. I want to grow old with someone, and I want that someone to be my spouse, right Charles?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Charles.

“You’re not married to that woman! You’re just roommates,” said Randy, grinning.

“I’m married,” snapped Charles. “I love my wife and she understands.”
Randy gently nudged Steven in the ribs with his elbow. “Charles sleeps around on his wife and with her blessing.”

“I don’t sleep around. Not really.” Charles looked directly at Steven. “It’s just one guy. She has her life and I have mine.”

“Basically, they’re both in the closet, but everyone knows that they’re gay,” said Randy.

“My wife isn’t gay!”

“Right. She has really good friends that just happen to be women who sleep over and keep her company when you go out with him,” said Randy sarcastically.

Steven started to relax now that he was no longer in the hot seat. He leaned back. David looked at him. He was still a little disappointed with Steven, but he decided to let it go for now.

“Enough picking on Charles, and no more prying into Steven’s life,” said David. “Unless you still feel like sharing?”

Everyone looked at Steven. He shrugged. “There’s not much left to tell.”

“Of course there is,” said Randy. “Like why are you a deliveryman at your age? Isn’t that kind of strenuous? I know you’re in great shape, but you’re getting a little long in the tooth. What’re your plans? Not planning on living off of David are you?” Randy laughed and nudged Steven again.

Steven could feel the anger growing inside of him. Randy spat out deliveryman as if it were the name of a new venereal disease. The vein in Steven’s neck stood out to the point where it looked to burst out of his skin.

“No, I don’t plan on livin’ off of David,” he snapped. “I haven’t depended on anyone since I left my father’s house fifteen years ago, and I never will. No matta what amount of money they have.”

“Whoa! Did I touch a soft spot?”

“No.”

“Stevie, I think you’re overreacting,” said Randy.

“It’s Steven. We don’t know each other that well. And I don’t think I am.” Steven faced Randy. “As a matta fact, I think you like startin’ trouble. I don’t know Charles, but that didn’t stop you from tellin’ all his business. How do you know if he wanted me to know about his marriage? You don’t. You just blurted it out.”

Randy sat up and frowned. He didn’t like for anyone to upstage him. “This isn’t about Charles. This is about me hitting a soft spot. You’re afraid that people will think you’re being kept,” he said, smiling wickedly.

“Stop!” yelled David. “Let’s try to have a nice, civilized evening.”

“There’s always one,” said Steven. He looked at Randy with all of the malevolence that he could muster. His nostrils were flared and his jaw was tight.

“Oh please! You can cut the ‘I’m a big, bad, black man attitude’ because I’m not afraid of you. If you’re not secure enough to handle the conversation . . .” Randy let his voice trail off.

Steven sprang to his feet. “Goodnight everyone. Nice meetin’ you Brad, Charles.” He stormed out of the living room.

“Steven wait!” David scrambled to his feet. He chased after Steven.

Randy laughed. Charles looked at him in disbelief. Brad was shaking his head. When Steven got to the front door, he ripped open the adjacent closet and hastily put on his jacket.

“Please don’t leave like this. Ignore Randy. Let’s go in the bedroom and talk.”

“I told you this evenin’ would be bad, but you had to push things. You know what, fuck your friend. I’m outta here.”

He ripped open the door and stormed out. The door slammed shut in David’s face. He looked at it in astonishment. He slowly walked back into the living room. His face was flushed. Charles was putting on his shirt. Brad and Randy were standing, ready to leave.

“I have never been so humiliated,” said David. Everyone looked at him. He was standing in the doorway of the living room, glaring at Randy.

“You should be,” said Randy. “But that’s how those people are. They’re so thin-skinned.”

“What did you say?” asked Brad.

“I said thin-skinned. They are. I don’t care if it sounds racist. I’d say it to his face. I’m tired of feeling like I have to apologize for every trespass that my ancestors might’ve done. Steven’s life is screwed up because he screwed it up, and it’s not my fault that he’s embarrassed by that.”

David’s eyes narrowed. “Randy. Get. Out. Of. My. House.” He spoke slowly, as if every word were its own sentence. Randy had never heard such iciness in his voice.

“Goodnight,” said Randy softly.

David waited until Randy was gone before he let the tears flow. Brad walked over and embraced him.

“It’s okay, Davy. You know how Randy is. I’m sure Steven will be okay. You guys’ll be fine.”

David cried into Brad’s shoulder. He wasn’t so sure if Steven and he would recover.

*****

David’s attempts to contact Steven over the weekend failed miserably. Steven let his machine screen all of his calls. David became desperate on Monday. He bought a dozen roses and went to see Steven. He arrived a little after seven to make sure that Steven would be home. Steven greeted him with a frown. David handed him the roses. He accepted them reluctantly.

David walked past him into the living room. He smelled a sweet, pungent odor that seemed remarkably familiar. A short Latino man was sitting on the sofa. He stubbed out something in an ashtray. David assumed that he was extinguishing a joint. Steven and his friend had been smoking marijuana.

“David, this is Brian. Brian, this is David. Look man, I’ll check you later.”

Brian stood and shook Steven’s hand in the way that most black and Latino men shook hands--a handclasp and a step forward so that their shoulders touched. He nodded in David’s direction and left Steven’s apartment. Steven placed the flowers on the coffee table. He sat next to David.

“I called all weekend. Why didn’t you call me back?”

“You know why,” said Steven. He looked at the coffee table in order to avoid eye contact. He didn’t want to go soft.

“Steven, I’m sorry. Randy’s an asshole, but you didn’t behave any better.”

“What? Your snotty ass friend started with me. He was tryin’ to embarrass me.”

“You’re right, but you could have been the bigger man and ignored him.”

“This is bullshit.”

“Why?”

“Why!”

“Yes, why is this bullshit?”

“You want me to let your friend slide. I don’t work like that David. I don’t take shit from nobody.”

“Randy asked you a simple question. If you felt like he was being too nosy, why didn’t you just tell him to mind his own business?”

“Because he wouldn’t have stopped with that. He would have started on somethin’ else.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t even know Randy.”

“No maybe you don’t know him. Randy was pickin’ on his own friends. Why would he go easy on me?”

“We’re not going anywhere with this. You have your opinion about what happened, and I have mine.”

“You’re right. I don’t think that this is gonna work. As a matta fact, I think we need space.”

“What?”

“You heard what I said. We need space.”

Steven slumped into the sofa and sulked. David looked at him and almost agreed. But his feelings wouldn’t allow him too. He was in love. Steven looked like a sullen little boy. His impertinence was almost cute to David. He reached out and took Steven’s hand in his.

“I don’t think should stop seeing each other. Maybe we should wait a little while longer before we take this step.”

Steven was shaking his head from side to side. “It won’t make a difference. We’re from two different worlds. Everything about your world makes me feel bad about mine. I can’t afford to go off to Jamaica whenever I feel like it. I don’t outright own anything I have; not even the clothes on my back. Everything I own is bought on credit. I owe someone for my whole life. Sometimes I feel like less than a man because of it.

Whenever I see you: your car, your home, your business, it’s a constant reminder of my shortcomin’s. I know you don’t do this on purpose, but I can’t help how I feel. Randy was right to some extent. If I lived with you, then I would be kept. I wouldn’t be able to contribute anything to our relationship.”

“Steven, what I want from you money can’t buy.”

“But we live in a world where everything else costs. Trust me, this is for the best.”

David felt defeated. He was out of arguments. He knew that he couldn’t give Steven what he needed most. Pride. David leaned over and kissed Steven on the cheek. He stood and walked away. Steven heard the front door close. He looked down at the roses. His eyes misted over, and a lump formed in his throat. He leaned over and picked up the bushel. He inhaled, breathing in the perfumed scent of love and exhaled slowly. Then he swallowed hard to hold back the tears. Despite his efforts, they fell anyway. He didn’t bother to wipe them away.