“Shit. Sorry, man. Ans didn’t say anything.”
“He doesn’t know. West either, so I’d appreciate it if you kept that between us. We separated about…six months or so ago. Bobby moved to London. I didn’t want to go, and it was getting hard, never seeing my own husband. I didn’t want to burden West with it while he was getting ready to tie the knot.”
Maybe that was partly an excuse, but I was sticking with it. Like I said, divorce felt like failing, and talking about it reminded me I was alone again.
“Damn. That’s hard. If I did men, I’d make you forget him for a few hours. I’m a fantastic fuck.”
A laugh tumbled from my lips. I hadn’t expected that. I enjoyed it when a straight man could joke around with a gay man that way. The first time I’d met Darren, it quickly became clear he didn’t have much of a filter, but it looked like he was pretty damn comfortable in his skin too. “What a coincidence. I too am a fantastic fuck. I’m quite known for how good I am—both taking and receiving. Too bad it’ll never happen. Can you imagine the fireworks we could create together?”
He plucked his glass off the table and took a drink as well. “Definitely hot. I’m not sure about the receiving part, though. I tried to ask Ans about it once, but he told me he wasn’t having that conversation with me. He’s so boring.”
Darren was absolutely not boring. He was surprising, that was for sure. “Don’t knock it till you try it. If the top knows what he’s doing, there’s nothing like a dick in your ass. Ever played with your prostate? Amazing.”
“Can’t say I have. Exit only so far. I’ve heard some straight dudes like to be pegged by a woman. Maybe I’ll try it sometime.”
I was swallowing whiskey as he said that, and his words made me inhale. It went up my nose and burned like a motherfucker. Darren laughed as I coughed, but then he hit my back like people did with babies. That didn’t do shit. Why was that a thing?
When I caught my breath, I said, “There’s never a dull moment with you, is there?”
“Thank God for that. Who wants to be boring?” He finished his drink and said, “You need another. I’ll get the next one, and you can tell me more about your prostate and how good it is.”
“You’re strange.”
“I’m fun.”
He was.
“Plus, I don’t like people to be sad on my watch. We’ll get you sorted out. There’s no crying at weddings.”
I stood to go with him, not ready for the conversation to be over. “People cry at weddings all the time. It’s pretty standard. Also, is that sort of like there’s no crying in baseball?”
He rolled his eyes. “Fine, no sad tears at weddings, but you should let them run free in baseball. It’s boring. I don’t know how people play without dissolving into tears,” he said, making me laugh again.
We made our way to the bar and each got another drink. We didn’t end up back at the table, instead leaning against one of the far walls, putting a little space between us and everyone else.
Darren said, “Seriously, I don’t mean to make light of your situation. I’m sorry your ex-husband sucks.”
“First, never be sorry when a man sucks—and Bobby was good at it.” I grinned. “And he doesn’t. He’s a great guy. We still talk weekly. We had a happy marriage. We love each other, but…we fell out of romantic love, I guess. Or maybe it was only ever friendship, and I didn’t see it. He travels a lot. We were rarely in the same place. That used to work. It doesn’t anymore.”
“I hear ya. Comes a time when you gotta think about your happiness first. I think that’s what Ans did when he met West.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. We both looked over at them. The song had changed, more than once by then, and they were still dancing together. “They’re still nauseating, though.”
“You can say that again,” Darren replied.
We finished our drinks and chatted some more. Darren asked me about my law practice in San Francisco, and then we talked about football. I was a huge fan of the sport, and Darren was really good. He mentioned the next season being his last with the Lightning, and then he’d be a free agent.
“That must be hard…not knowing what will happen or having any say where you go, or if you go at all.”
“Well, I do in some ways. If I don’t like it, I don’t have to play. I’ve been lucky to spend my whole career in the same place, close to my family, and to play with Anson. Don’t think I’m ready to walk away from it, though, so even if I’m not in Atlanta, I’ll still play.” He nudged me. “Hey, maybe I’ll end up in San Francisco. We can go out. I’ll be your wingman with guys, and you can do the same for me and women.”