A Favor from a Friend - 1. Chapter 1

I owed Joey a favor. That’s why I was in Twin Peaks Tavern, possibly the most boring gay bar in San Francisco. It had the right location at the corner of Market and Castro streets; Twin Peaks is no hovel situated out in the avenues or, even worse, the suburbs. It is, however, a drinking hole for old men and tourists. When I say old, I don’t mean the “gay” old age of over 30. I mean really old guys. 50 and up. I shouldn’t be here for at least another three decades.

The bar is famous for its floor to ceiling plate glass windows but tonight they were only good for watching all the hotties outside making their way to Qbar or Badlands or even Midnight Sun. On any other Saturday night, I’d be out there with them.

But I had decided that Joey needed rescuing and that’s why we were at Twin Peaks Tavern. The one good thing about Twin Peaks is that you can have a conversation here. Having gotten Joey into the bar and sipping an apple martini, the first part of my plan had been executed. Now it was time to go to work. Joey gave me the perfect opening.

“I can’t remember the last time I was here.” Joey sipped the cocktail and cast his brown eyes over the crowded bar. He shot a smile towards the white haired geezers collected around two tables at the far end of the room. It was a friendly smile, not coy, not flirty. That was Joey.

“I can’t remember the last time you agreed to come out on a Saturday night.”

“I get out.” Joey was still taking in the view, eyes tracking the people behind me, a half smile on his face. I turned to see if anyone interesting had come in, but it was the usual crowd of pasty white guys with a mid-western sense of style and a few overweight lesbians.

“Joey, your monthly writing group doesn’t count as “getting out” and neither does that book convention you went to a month ago.”

“Why wouldn’t they count?” The words were laced with mock indignation. Joey was laughing at me.

“Did you hook up with anyone at that convention? No. And please don’t tell me you’ve fucked any of the guys in your writing group. I’ve met that crowd and if you’ve been doing any of them, we’ve got more of a problem than I thought.”

“Hey now, those are my friends you’re talking about. I never thought any of them were so bad looking, but I don’t screw around with my friends. As you know.”

“It’s not their looks. There’s just nothing there. I can’t tell if they’re gay or straight. I’ve never met a group of people who exude absolutely no sexuality. As far as I’m concerned, that’s the overriding problem in your life, Jojo. No sex.”

“Not all of us have a slutty phase that lasts over a decade, Rico.”

Okay, that was a dig at me and he nudged me with his elbow, still trying to keep things light. But when it came to Joey’s sex life, heck his entire social life, I was serious.

“Joey, I’m telling you that you’re 29 years old, and you’re in a rut. You are going to be 30 before you know it and you won’t have lived at all. San Francisco is a gay mecca. Take advantage of it.”

Joey was looking past me again, watching someone, but I guess he heard the concern in my voice. His brows furrowed and those brown eyes warmed, centering on me. He cocked his head just a little bit. “I do take advantage, Rico. In what other town would I find a group of 8 guys into writing Jane Austen fanfic? One of them produced a slash piece between Mr. Darcy and Mr. Knightley - now there’s that sexual vibe you were looking for.”

I had no idea what Joey was talking about but I was pretty sure he was still laughing at me. He reached over, placing a hand on my knee and squeezing, asked, “Are you doing OK these days, Rico? We talk pretty often but I haven’t asked lately how you’re doing?”

Just like that, Joey turned the tables on me. He was the therapist, all calm assurance, without judgment, ready to help shoulder whatever burdens a friend might drop at his feet. I’d been the one asking questions but he was the one doing all the listening. “I’m fine, Joey. Still clean, just like I have been since you pulled me out of that fucked up party I ended up at last year. This conversation isn’t about me. Can’t you hear what I’m saying? You’re young. You look good without even trying – work that body of yours and you’d be smokin’ hot. You’re smart and you have plenty to occupy yourself. But, you’re not really doing anything. You’re just existing.”

“And you think the answer to all this is what? Picking up a trick? A two hour hook up?” Joey’s voice was clipped, the only indication I’d managed to prick him.

“Yes, frankly. What’s wrong with a night of recreational sex? Unwind. You’ve acted more and more chill every time I’ve seen you but I finally figured out that’s a cover up for the fact that you are really, fucking uptight. Cut loose for a night.”

Joey gave me that famous, easy smile of his. All sunshine. Super sincere. Only this time I kept glaring at him. He wasn’t going to cajole me into his shtick of easy-going, nerdy friend. When he saw I wasn’t budging, his shoulders slumped.

“I hear your concern, Rico. I don’t know why I’m not putting myself out there. Honestly, I did think I’d be able to meet someone at one of my book clubs or my writing group. It just hasn’t worked out that way and I’m not one for bars or even the online thing. I’m not you.”

“Venturing out to a bar once in a while is a good thing, Joey. It’s a casual, social thing. Maybe you’ll hook-up with someone, maybe you won’t. I’m not trying to turn you into me. I’m an incomparable whore. That takes years of practice.”

“I do envy you sometimes; it’s so easy for you to go with the flow, catch the vibe of a place, a person. I’m always trying to figure things out. I want to study a place, understand a person, before throwing myself into a scene. But, I guess I could try something new.”

He was seated at a table by himself when Joey approached, me following in service as a faithful wingman.

“Hi there, mind if we join you?”

He was clearly startled to be addressed, turning his attention to us from the view of the crowd on the other side of the windows. He began to rise as we seated ourselves, but Joey quickly bade him to stay. “I don’t want to run you off. I came over to introduce myself. Joey Sykes, and this is Rico Knightsbridge.”

Neal introduced himself and Joey eased into a conversation with him as if finding common ground with a stranger were the easiest thing in the world to do. It wasn’t the sort of flirting I was used to. I wasn’t sure at first that Joey was flirting at all. When Neal told us he had a daughter I wasn’t even sure he wanted a guy coming on to him. Maybe Neal wasn’t aware that this was a gay bar. My plan to turn Joey out for the night seemed to be going off the rails. He’d zeroed in on the one straight guy in the place and was turning him into a friend.

The three of us exchanged basic information about ourselves. Neal from out of town, Joey a transplant from the southern U.S. and me a native of San Francisco. I worked for my family’s catering business, Joey was a professional photographer, and Neal with his lawyering. Once the basic demographic information was out of the way, I contributed little to the conversation fretting about how to detach Joey from this dead end of an encounter. He wasn’t supposed to collect friends here; he should have another goal in mind.

I should have realized that Joey would have his own way of doing things, even something as straightforward as a one night stand. Here I was thinking that Neal was just some pre-game conversation before I hauled Joey off to Qbar for some real action when Joey asked his next, oh-so-casual sounding question.

“So what brings you out on the town tonight, Neal?”

“I’ve been up here in northern California for a trial in federal court. It finished up this week. I was sitting in my hotel room tonight and I realized I’ve been living in San Francisco for seven months and haven’t seen more than the six square blocks around the courthouse. It was time to soak up some of what this city has to offer.”

Joey and I exchanged glances before he spoke. “A seven month trial? You must be here for the litigation in connection with the oil spill that happened a couple years ago in the bay. It’s been in the news.”

Neal placed his palms on the table, flattening a crumpled cocktail napkin. “That’s right.”

“What a tremendous undertaking. It must be strange to have it be over.”

That was all Joey said and Neal gave him a look that was hard to interpret. Gratitude, maybe. Even relief. That’s when I realized that Joey wasn’t going to ask the logical question. He was either too polite or he truly didn’t care what the answer was. I, however, was curious, if not caring, and I certainly wasn’t too polite.

“So did you win or lose the case? The news reports said the environmental groups that sued came out way ahead on this one. For once.”

Neal smiled to himself, fingers still worrying the edge of the napkin. Joey reached across the table and covered Neal’s hands with his own. He held them. Squeezed. Neal went completely still, staring at their linked hands. Even I held my breath, conscious of some sort of momentous exchange between them. After a pause, Neal turned up his palms, linking his fingers with Joey’s. “I’ve never held hands with a man.”

Then to me, “My client was not happy with the outcome of the trial.”

I couldn’t hold his eyes. They were too naked with defiance and pain and exhaustion. Jesus, why couldn’t Joey find someone normal to hook up with? I watched my friend’s thumb make soothing strokes on the edge of Neal’s palm.

“Hey.” Joey drew Neal’s attention back to him. “I’m not sorry that your client lost. They were careless in how they operated their tankers in our waters. But I’m sorry you lost. It sounds like a trial is just that – a monumental endeavor.”

Neal dipped his head in acknowledgment. “My team worked hard on this one. It’s been almost our entire life for about two years. Anyway, I have a couple weeks remaining in San Francisco to tie up loose ends. Tonight I realized I’ve spent the better part of this year indoors and have been living in one of the great cities of the U.S. without seeing any of it.”

“Well, I’m glad we crossed paths though the Castro seems like an odd choice for someone who is, or was, married? I’m assuming, anyway, because you mentioned a daughter.”

“Widowed, actually. Not long before my firm took on the oil spill litigation. I guess throwing myself into the trial was one way to work through the loss.”

Things couldn’t have gotten heavier if Neal had dropped an anvil on the table. Dead wife, straight (or closeted), some sort of recent professional trauma. If a trick had dropped even one of those on me, I’d be heading for the nearest exit. Joey, however, pulled his chair closer to Neal and dove right in. “Two years isn’t very long. How did your wife die?”

“This calls for another round.” I don’t think they heard me. I only muttered the words and neither of them glanced my way as I headed for the bar. I loitered as the bartender filled the order, burning up time by halfheartedly flirting with a daddy who should have hung up his leathers a decade ago. Still, he knew how to do bar banter and I made sure to give my butt an extra wiggle for his benefit as I walked back to the table.

“I’ve always known that I’m into guys, but I loved my wife. We made a good team. If she were alive, I wouldn’t be sitting here now. But, she’s not still here and I have this opportunity to find out more about this side of myself. ”

I plunked a fresh bottle of beer in front of Neal as he finished speaking.

“So, you’re straight, or at least that’s what your friends and daughter and co-workers think.” I know I came off sounding like an asshole; Joey’s glare told me as much, but Neil Sheridan needed to take his closet full of baggage and move on. Joey needed a blow job, not a bull session.

“My co-workers would be surprised to see me in a gay bar, that much is true.”

Which sounded like a carefully worded lawyer’s response to me. I shifted in my seat, not quite blocking Neal but definitely excluding him from my next words. “So, Joey, how about we finish this round and head over to Qbar?”

“Sorry, Rico. While you were getting drinks, Neal agreed to go back to my place with me. He wants to see more of the city and there’s no better view than the roof of my apartment building.” Joey gave me a broad wink. My jaw nearly unhinged. I looked at Neal, sure that I was being punked.

Neal picked at the label on the beer bottle. “Joey said the two of you weren’t…”

He trailed off, then picked up again. “Excuse me. I think I’ll just find the men’s room and leave you two alone for a few minutes.”

Once he was out of earshot, I turned on my friend. “Jojo, seriously, what are you doing?”

“Wasn’t this the plan for me tonight?” I’m supposed to meet someone, take him home? Well, mission accomplished. Or nearly accomplished. You need to assure Neal that you and I aren’t a thing. I told him, but then you got all weird and now he probably thinks you’re jealous.”

I held up my fingers and started counting. “Dead wife. Fucked up job. Closet case…Joey, think again before taking Neal home. We’ll find someone better for you over at Qbar. I don’t think Neal is the guy to give you what you need.”

Joey just shook his head at me, gave me that half smile he’d started the night with. “You think I need a blow job and hey, I probably do. You’re going to have to trust that a neophyte whore like me can manage to get what he needs from a hook up.”

“Neal’s never had a guy touch him before you grabbed his hands a few minutes ago. How can a guy like that give you what you need? All that’s going to happen tonight is the two of you sitting on your roof and looking at the stars.”

“Trust me to know what I’m doing here.”

Joey wouldn’t be budged. Neal was his choice for the night. I would have to be happy with that. I just hoped my friend was happy.

“Promise me one thing, Joey.”

“What’s that?”

“This is only one night. Don’t start up a relationship with a guy who’s still claiming to be straight, who’s still in the closet. That type of mix – one person out, one person in – never works.”

Joey nodded. “Agreed.“

When Neal returned I played nice. We finished our drinks. I shared stories from Joey’s and my college days, getting laughs at our antics while emphasizing the “just friends” status of our relationship.

We left Twin Peaks as a group, heading in the same direction. We passed Hot Cookie then drew to a stop in front of the Castro Theater. A playbill promoting San Francisco’s Silent Film Festival was enclosed behind the glass. Louise Brooks in a double bill for Prix de beauté and Pandora’s Box.

Pandora’s Box. That was an apt metaphor for what Joey had uncovered in the closeted, widowed Neal whose career involved defending an oil company’s wreckage of the environment. It was an apt metaphor for what I’d unleashed by setting out to “rescue” Joey.

“Time for me to say my good byes.” I held out a hand to Neal. “Qbar is just across the street. I’m going to cut over here.”

Joey gave me a couple air kisses.

“Remember your promise,” I whispered. “One night.”

++++++++++++++

Joey found me the next day in Dolores Park. I had my two Chihuahuas, Kit and Kat, out for some exercise.

“You were right.” He stooped to give me a loud smack on my cheek and dropped onto the grass next to me. Resting on his side, he propped his head with one elbow. He had a languid, flushed look about him, like he’d just come from a really good massage. Or a night of great sex.

“Look at you.” I shove his hip and he rolled onto his back, a goofy smile filling his handsome face. “Looks like I was wrong, I’d say. Looks like Neal was ready for some man on man action after all.”

“You were right that I needed to get laid.”

“And Neal managed to get the job done the first time round?”

“You want me to kiss and tell, huh?”

“Please do.”

Kit and Kat raced over greeting Joey with wet noses and tongues.

“Back off, girls.” I threw a couple balls out for them to chase. “Jojo here is about to deliver some juicy gossip.”

“Classy, Rico. Think I’ll keep the details to myself.”

“Mighty stingy of you when I went to all that work to get you out of your rut of a routine.” I was teasing him. I certainly had no expectation of hearing details of what transpired between he and Neal.

I threw the balls for Kit and Kat while Joey stared up at the sky with that pensive, goofy smile on his face. He surprised me when he started talking about their night.

“Have you ever been with someone who was just coming out, Rico?”

I thought about it, shuffled back through the tricks and relationships of a decade. “No. I don’t think I have. At least, not since I was coming out myself.”

“Well, Neal surprised me. It’s not that we did a lot last night. I’m not sure what we did even qualifies as sex for most people. Mostly, we did a lot of touching. He hadn’t been touched in a long time, Rico. Longer even than me. Not since before his wife grew ill. But, we touched a lot last night. It was intense. And satisfying. I’ve never experienced anything like it.”

I swallowed. Somehow what he described was more intimate than hearing they’d had sex. “So how did you guys leave it? Are you going to see him again?”

Joey gave a brief shake of his head. “No. That’s another thing you were right about. ‘No dating guys in the closet.’ Neal started talking about weekend trips up here, seeing me, getting to know San Francisco. When I told him my photography business took me into San Diego fairly often, he backed off. I got the clear impression he’s not ready to be seen with a male lover, at least not by people who know him.”

So that was that. Maybe it would have ended there too except for two things - Firstly, when Joey wouldn’t return his calls, Neal started contacting me, and Secondly, Joey became even more of a hermit than before he’d met Neal. I'd pushed my friend into a situation worse than I'd found him.

++++++++++++++++++++

“A suit, Jojo. Dark. We’ll provide a serving coat when you arrive.”

“This must be some shindig if you’re calling me in to help with catering service.”

“You have no idea.” I crossed my fingers, a childhood habit meant to absolve my guilt for lying. “You won’t bail on me, will you? I’ll pick you up at 3pm on Saturday.”

“I’ll be ready.”

It was one month after my Joey rescue operation. I’d thought that day in Dolores Park that my role in the rehabilitation of Joey was complete, but it turned out my plan needed a third stage in order to have a hope of success. The point person of stage three was Neal Sheridan. My role was to deliver Joey to him.

Like Joey, I’d ignored Neal’s calls at first. He’d located me through my business, calling I don’t know how many caterers before he found me. Finally, just to give my parents some peace, I took one of his calls. That’s how I learned that Neal had no idea why Joey cut him off after that Saturday night. Joey, for all his ease with casual conversation and all his skill at listening to people, is complete crap when it comes to communicating what’s bugging him. Maybe because he’s so accepting of people. If you don’t have many lines in the sand, you don’t get a lot of practice in pointing out when someone’s crossed one of them. I’m the one who had to tell Neal why Joey wouldn’t return his calls.

“You’re in the closet, Neal. I mean, I don’t know exactly what your situation is. I’m not even sure what you think about yourself – gay, bi or whatever. But Joey had the impression that he’d never be more than a side interest of yours. He’s out, totally. He didn’t want to try growing a relationship with someone who wasn’t equally visible, someone who flinched away from being thought of as gay.”

There was a long silence at the other end of the phone. “I never meant to give him the impression I’d be uncomfortable being seen with him.”

“By anyone? Your San Diego friends, your co-workers, your daughter?”

“Well, what am I supposed to do, send out an announcement? Throw a dinner party and make a big coming out speech? I’m a lawyer; it’s not like I’m some celebrity with a publicist who can send word around that I’m dating a guy these days.”

“The sarcasm’s not helping the situation, bud. And I think you’re being a little disingenuous here. Your original plan was to keep Joey as a weekend getaway. That’s not what Joey wants.”

Neal expelled a long breath. “So that’s why I ended up being a one night hook up for him.”

“I don’t think that’s what Joey wants either. He’s not much of a one night stand sort of guy. I kinda put him up to it that night he hooked up with you.”

“Do I hear you saying you’ll help convince him to give me a chance?”

“Better get working on that coming out dinner party if you want my help.”

I got a catering gig out of the arrangement. Well, this particular gig mostly fell on my sister since she ran the San Diego branch of the family business. I put Neal in touch with her and then called up Joey and told him my sister was calling all hands on deck. She needed both of us down in San Diego to circulate hors d’oeuvres at a massive party. Joey had worked for my family during college and then sporadically during the years his photography business was getting off the ground.

My job was to deliver him to Neal’s party. It was up to Neal to take it from there. Though he had been instrumental in getting the two of us down to San Deigo.

“I can’t believe that your sister has a client who would send a private plane for a catering crew.”

“I think it’s just a charter service. Evidently the client has a lot of business up in the bay area so the flights are fairly frequent.”

“Well, this is a first for me. Is this some sort of Hollywood thing?”

I evaded specifics. Joey grew even more curious when a chauffeured sedan met us at the terminal. I kept him distracted during the drive. It wasn’t easy because it suddenly occurred to me that I should probably prepare Joey for what was about to happen. I’d sworn to let Neal reveal the truth behind the evening’s events so I was limited in what I could say.

“You know, Joey, last month at Twin Peaks, I was impressed by how easily you were able to strike up a conversation with Neal. Those skills are useful to have at parties like the one we’re going to.”

“Yeah, if you’re a guest. No one talks to the guy handing out the food.”

“Just saying, casual conversation is a good skill to have.”

“Well, thanks. You’re always on my case for being a hermit, but I do like people. I just prefer to talk to them not ogle them.”

“Touché.”

We watched the scenery, appeared to be drawing close to the ocean and some of the large hotels along the beach.

“One other thing I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

Joey turned his head, brows raised.

“I was really touched by what you said about Neal in Dolores Park. Your night with him was something special, Joey. Trust me, I should know. I’ve felt since then that I may have given you bad advice.”

He pursed his lips, swallowed hard. His voice was a little husky when he spoke. “No, your advice was good, Rico. Under the circumstances, it was good.”

“Well, remember that circumstances can change.”

The car pulled to a halt in the circular drive of a large hotel. Joey pushed open the door before the chauffeur could come around and the two of us got out.

“Joey!”

Neal was there immediately, striding over from the hotel lobby, looking sleek and debonair and very lawyerly in a dark suit. He looked healthier too, tanned and relaxed. He rested both hands on my friend’s shoulders. “It’s good to see you again. I apologize for the subterfuge in getting you down to San Diego; it was quite the operation.”

Joey stepped out from Neal’s hands and made a slow swivel in my direction. “What is this?”

I shrugged, not sure what to say. “Circumstances change, Joey. Neal has something to tell you. I recommend you hear him out.”

“Please do, Joey.” Neal stepped forward again. We were still in the drive of the hotel, just outside the entrance. Guests entering the building were flowing around us. “The most important thing you should know is that you don’t have to go along with any of this. Just please hear what I have to say before you decide and if the answer is “No” I’ve got a room booked here in your name and a return flight to San Francisco tomorrow.”

Joey shook his head. “Start talking because I’m entirely confused.”

“Rico didn’t bring you down here to cater. I asked him to – “

“Neal, my man!” A tall, blond surfer type in suit that cost more than I make in a year bore down on Neal. Next to him was an equally tall, equally blond woman in an evening gown and glittering with diamonds. I’d forgotten how blond everyone in southern California was. “Lila and I have been looking forward to this all month. Win or lose, the firm knows how to throw down at the end of a big trial. We’re expecting quite the party tonight.”

“Well, win or lose, the team deserves some recognition. A lot of people spent a lot of time away from their families the last few months. They all deserve a thank you.” I could see the faint tightness in the smile Neal gave the boisterous man and the dawning recognition on Joey’s face. Before Neal could usher the couple on into the hotel, the woman was turning to Joey and extending her hand. I stepped away from the circle.

“I’m Lila Kennedy. I don’t think we’ve met?”

Again Neal dropped a hand on my friend’s shoulder. “This is Joey Sykes. We met my last weekend up in San Francisco. I asked him to fly down and join me tonight.”

“A pleasure.” The woman shook Joey’s hand and nudged her husband who, mouth agape, did the same.

“Everyone’s in the main ballroom. The concierge can direct you once you’re inside.” Neal gestured towards the door and the woman, Lila, took the lead. “Come along, Howard. “

Once Howard and Lila were gone, Neal took Joey aside and explained that for large trials, the ones that last for months, the firm always throws a large thank-you party for the lawyers and staff who sacrificed so much of their time to bring the trial off. Win or lose, they always acknowledged the dedication of their employees. Tonight was the celebration for the oil spill trial and Neal wanted Joey there with him as his date.

"When I went home with you last month, I began the night with trepidation, caution, maybe even a little shame and guilt. By the morning time, all that was gone and in its place was hope. I've been clinging to that hope for the past month. What do you say, Joey? Can you introduce you as my date tonight?"

Joey said “yes” of course. He couldn’t believe Neal had gone to so much trouble, involving me in the subterfuge to get him to San Diego.

“I had to do a little soul searching on how open to be about my sexuality. Rico helped me figure that out. The next step was obvious – figuring out how to convince you that I wasn’t ashamed to escort you around town. Or have you escort me. Or whatever.”

So, that’s how Neal Sheridan came out to his friends and co-workers. There was no big announcement. He didn’t tap his water glass and make a public statement of his bi-sexuality. He simply introduced Joey as his date for the evening and let people draw their own conclusions.

Neal encountered a couple squalls during the next few weeks, but according to Joey, those were easily navigated. I saw even less of Joey than I had previously. For several months, he was down in San Diego nearly every weekend. Eventually, though, I noticed that Neal was traveling to San Francisco on a regular basis. I had thought early on that Joey would pack up his photography business and move to southern California but it didn’t turn out that way. They did the long distance thing for two years before Neal announced that his firm was opening a branch office in San Francisco and he’d be moving up here.

Even two years in, Joey will still show up with that same languid, flushed, relaxed look and goofy smile he was sporting in Dolores Park after their first night together. I was teasing Joey about that recently. He told me that anytime I want some tips from him on how to chat up a guy like Neal, all I have to do is ask. Maybe I’ll take him up on that someday. Someday soon.