Opposites attract - 8. Chapter 8

Time passed by and soon November was about to start.

“He made you do what?” Rob asked in a shrill voice.

“He didn't make me do anything. He asked me, whether I would help him oiling up for the fake competition they would do for training.”

“Which you did?”

“Sure. See, for some people friendship does mean more than exchanging insults.”

“Perhaps, he figured out you are gay and is now trying to kill you by sexual tension or wants you to make a move to get away with ‘self defense’, that psycho.” Once again quotation fingers.

“Now add aliens and the government and you have one heck of a conspiracy theory and I only know one psycho… hint one… in this room… hint two… it's not me.”

After a short pause I added

“How could he have figured out?”

“Perhaps you going all Florence Nightingale on him tipped him off?”

She had made a valid point.

“Or he likes… me.”

“Don't go there, little one. Don't go there.” She grabbed me in a tight embrace “That will just hurt you.”

It was one of the few instances, I saw the more compassionate side of her. She really was worrying for me this time.

“Thanksgiving. He has nowhere to spend it, so he’ll stay here. I’ll spend it with him.”

I hadn't told her yet. I hadn't dared to.

“You will what?” She pushed me away. “And your family?”

“Mom and Dad are on this cruise to celebrate their 30th anniversary. They apologized a hundred times for it taking place on Thanksgiving.”

“Tiff and Marc?”

“Of course, they have invited me. They are planning to visit Marc's family. Nice people, but I barely know them. By the way, am I in some way related to the parents-in-law of my sister?”

“In my family, yes. It would be as having married Marc yourself. In your All-American-dream family, no. Back to topic.”

“Mom and Dad sent me money. ‘Spend it as you please… if you want to go visit your sister… or anything else.’ I've decided for ‘anything else’.”

“Don't come back crying to me, if he kills you.”

“Rob, I promise you: I will not come back to you, if I am dead.” I emphasized the last word, pointing out her blunder. The whole sentence had dripped with sarcasm.

“Dorm Haunting, part one: Return of the Fag. That would suit you. Leon the unfriendly ghost.”

I couldn't help, but laugh. Rob glowered.

“Just don't get hurt, in any way. Got it, bitch?” She added softly.

I waited even longer to tell Kev. It was the Monday before Thanksgiving. When he returned from the spa, I stood by my desk, beaming as if I had lost it.

“What's up? Found the missing step in the proof you were working on?”

“I did, but that's not the point.”

I was teasing him.

“So, what IS the point?”

Kev was puzzled.

“Guess, where I'll be on Thursday?”

“With your family? It's Thanksgiving.”

“Nope. I will spend it with this best friend of mine. I don't know, if you know him: tall…. muscular…”

“But…”

I explained to him the situation with my parents being on the cruise and that I didn't want to celebrate Thanksgiving with Marc's family.

“Whoa. After all, it seems like this will be not just another lonely holiday.” Kev grinned, resting both of his hand on the back of his neck.

“Best is still to come.”

I teased him again.

Another one of those Winnie-the-Pooh-style puzzled looks his reaction.

“What's Thanksgiving without eating till you are full up? I reserved a table at Rosenham's for the two of us.”

“Rosenham's? That's an expensive place.”

I told him about the money which my parents had given me to ease their conscience.

“It’s bribe money. The bad karma has to be set off by using it for something extraordinary fun and sharing it with someone else.”

“And classy.” Kev didn't give up.

“Yep. Formal wear required.”

“Um, Leon, you know the tie I have, the one with the stripes? That's about all the formal wear I own.”

“Mmmm. That's a problem… oops… look what I've found under my desk.”

I produced a cardboard box with “Fitzgerald's” written on it in a loopy, golden writing.

“You didn't buy me…” Kev started.

“No. I never commit the same mistake twice.” I smirked.

“And…” he pointed at the box.

“It's a rental suit from my Mom's shop.”

“Thought your mom is on a cruise.”

“Beth, her assistant, is running the shop at the moment. You are a wary one, aren't you?”

Kev grinned apologetically.

“I asked her to send those as well.” I was holding a pair of black leather shoes in my right hand.

“I know your size and I described you to Beth. Better you try on the suit and the shoes. We can still get replacements till Thursday.” I handed him the shoes and the box.

Kev handled the box as if he was carrying a selection of the most precious china in the world. He put it down on his bed and opened it.

“Um, Leon, the label says ‘Armani’. It's fake, isn't it?”

“You are lucky that my Mom didn't hear that. It's genuine, fall collection, prêt-a-porter.” The last part I said with a thick French accent that was definitely fake.

He took out the trousers and the jacket. The color was a light gray with a very decent pinstripe pattern some shades darker. Beth had added a simple, but elegant, white shirt and two ties, from which he could choose. He tried them on and it seemed as if this suit had been tailored just for Kev. Even the shoes were a perfect fit. He undressed again and carefully folded the clothing back into the box. He caressed the outside of the box with both hands.

“Never in my life have I worn such nice clothing.” Kev was close to tears.

“And there will never be a nicer guy in them.”

Kev looked at me.

“What if something happens to them, if I ruin them?” He was about to panic.

“You know, I’m very close to the shop keeper...” I crossed the middle and ring finger of my right hand, imitating the gesture you often saw in hip hop video clips “… she's a cool bitch.”

It had the desired effect: Kev relaxed and chuckled.

“Does your mom know what you call her behind her back?”

“I hope not.”

We burst out laughing.