One to Chase (One to Hold 7)

“You’re going to have to tell me what’s going on at some point.” C.J. ordered a starter of lamb pizza, and he lifts a thin slice, folds it in half and takes a large bite.

I turn over his statement in my mind, taking a sip of white wine. Carlton and I have been friends since high school. He knows me as well or better than anyone else. If anyone would understand what I’m facing...

The server appears, sliding a plate of lamb empanadas with blueberries and avocados in front of me, and a side of roasted cauliflower with peppers and pine nuts next to my friend.

“Can I get you anything else?” He stands in his black uniform with a little lamb on the pocket waiting.

Despite being one of the top restaurants in the city, the atmosphere is surprisingly loud and casual.

“I’ll have another Italian grandpa,” C.J. shouts. My Chardonnay is only half-finished, so I wave that I’m fine.

Once he’s gone, I take a bite of empanada. “I can’t believe how well the blueberry goes with this.” A small cut of avocado is next, but my lupper (lunch mixed with supper—it was the only way we could get a table without reservations) date isn’t letting me off the hook.

“I saw Karen come after you last night.”

I don’t respond, choosing instead to steal a piece of cauliflower. It’s unbelievably delicious.

He doesn’t let my lack of response throw him. “When are you going to stop letting her get away with that shit? She’s such a troll. I hoped once you were back, she’d feel threatened enough to crawl back under her bridge for good.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Remembering Karen’s words, her cruel accusation, only makes me cringe, and I want to enjoy this nice dinner.

C.J. slides the last piece of pizza in his mouth and sits back as his martini is placed in front of him. The waiter removes the pizza plate and disappears.

“I can’t believe she’s holding onto that,” he says, sipping the cocktail. “I still say you were rufied. That guy has always been a slimy toad, even then.”

A shiver moves across my shoulders, and I deflect as per usual. “I drank too much in high school. You can’t sling accusations like that when I was always so messed up.”

My friend shakes his head. “Everybody goes through phases.”

“Not everybody.” My eyes are on the stem of my glass, my fingers circling the base.

“Some have theirs later in life.”

We’re both quiet a moment. Our thoughts drown in the echoing noise of the brick-and-wood West Loop establishment. We’re not terribly far from Marcus’s office, and I can’t help wondering what he’s doing. As much as I’ve struggled to put him out of my mind, he sneaks back in like a cherished addiction.

Blinking up at my friend, I can’t resist. “Invisibility or flying?”

“Invisibility. All the way.”

“That didn’t take long,” I say with a laugh. “Sneaky bitch.”

“Oh, you know it, girl.” He winks at me over the edge of his glass. “Pervy, too.”

This is why C.J. and I have always been so close. No matter how shitty my life gets, no matter how much the badness presses down on my shoulders, he can always make me laugh.

“Are you going to the gala?” I feel like I’ll survive the night if he’s there.

“Maybe. If I can get the hot little twink I met at Studio O to come out.”

I take a finishing sip of my wine and laugh. “I always took you as more of the Daddy type.”

“I’m vain.” He says, leaning back to button the slim black blazer he’s wearing over a white V-neck tee. “I’m looking for me.”

“I’ll be looking for you.”

“And I’ll be watching you and Mr. Merritt.” He adjusts his fake, horn-rimmed glasses, eyebrows rising. “I know why you choose to be alone, but rules are made to be broken.”

“Choices? Rules? Interesting words from a gay man.”