What about kismet? - 4. The Beef and the Generous: Philly Cheese steak anyone?

Chapter 4:

The Beef and the Generous: Philly Cheese steak anyone?

“So if you’re on a diet, you simply cannot think of munching on gourmet fatty foods. Think of an almond as something you’d be willing to pay $120 for that is fit for a queen. Then, you could say to yourself – Goodbye 20 lbs. and hello Bulimia!”

Three months have passed since I have been seeing Joe. We have been hanging out every Sunday and spending our afternoons just talking about everything that would come to our minds. He started inclining me to run with him for which I happily obliged. There was no malice with our male-bonding moments. Bromance seems to be popular these days; brotherly love with another man without the aspect of sleeping with each other was really a breath of fresh air.

That seemed conventional enough in this generation that I would have to say that my relationship with him have not seemed that tacky as what I had thought it would be.

Even Evelyn’s cronies have gotten used to seeing us together; although I would still have imagined them, talking about us whenever we passed by them on our usual runs at Mac Dandy Park. I would have envisioned them saying such things as “That faggot has him wrapped around his fingers – what a waste.”

Although he seemed impervious to what the whole perception of the people around the park thought of us, I tended to be the more cautious one – in reference to our developing friendship. Sometimes there were those moments where certain awkward situations where he seemed oblivious, for which he found it something natural, that made me really want to ask him if he is gay or straight.

Like the time when we were doing our usual runs, where he paused and took a second to notice that my shoelace was unknotted, as we both were running on a slow pace across the roundabout. He knelt down and tied my shoelace as if it was something a heterosexual man would do. He bobbed his head upwards and said to me “You’re such a klutz!” while he laughed at the situation.

I stared down at him while realizing the uncomfortable position that I was in. Though it may resemble something George Michael preferred doing, for him to have specifically chosen the shadier section of the park while tying my shoelace, as he knelt on the cobbled pathway, while sweat dripped across my forehead was simply an awkward feeling while he expressed his uttermost concern.

There was also this one time while we were having our break from running that I told him that I wanted to get some rest. I know I was not fit to having done those longs runs with him, which is why I was trying my best to catch upon his speed and agility.

I only wanted to rest my feet because my toes were aching from the tight insides of my newly bought running shoes. When he noticed that it was impossible for me to have another go, he advised me to take it easy and call it a day.

I was prepping my stuff to leave when he grabbed this foot lotion in his bag, directed me to take off my shoes, and instructed me to have a sit and just relax as he massages my feet. Certain nuances like that would have made my heart flutter from a lover who was willing to surprise you, not that he was a lover - I think this is the whole point of the part of this retelling that he was a friend who gives foot massages, which was extremely, mind baffling.

However, that part surely made me tick. We even had a slight argument about me having taken off my running shoes. He assured me that he did not mind the smell of a feet congested with sweat. The thought of getting a free massage in such a public place horrified me. However, he was so persistent that he grabbed my feet and took off my shoes anyway.

I did not have the strength to have resisted such offer so I prayed to the mercy of my new Nike that it had not given me athlete’s foot. He caressed my soles and massaged it properly that I gave out a slight moan of satisfaction, and to his delight, he even complimented his skill as a foot masseur.

After giving me a long foot massage, I asked him, “Does it not bother you that everyone is looking at us? You do not want other people thinking differently of you or me.”

“Nah! I don’t really bother what these folks think. Should it concern you?” He said as he contemplated on such inquiry.

I hesitated for a bit as I gave out a remark from what had just transpired.

“Of course not! It does not bother me that you are touching my feet despite my reservations that it might smell. Or the thought of being given a public massage in a very public place does not really bug me. Even if we are both guys which exactly is...”

Before I could finish my sentence, he interrupted me then said, “And... a guy can’t give his buddy a foot massage because he felt guilty about pushing his friend’s limit? I know that those are new...” he then pointed a finger to my running shoes.

He then added, “Think of the massage as a gift. I know you’re trying your best to run with me and that you’re giving me your free time to be here every Sunday.”

He gave out a comforting smile as he placed my feet in his lap, while he caressed my calves and parts of my feet I did not know were aching.

From that moment on, I considered him a straight man trapped in a gay man’s body because for sure, his fingers were the devils making. Having been touched by him gave me goose pimples on the wrong areas. I had slowly grown on the lower regions of down under, as he felt my calves with such gentle pressure, that the only thing I did – as soon as I felt my boner popping out of my shorts – was to get my feet away from that beast who had obviously gotten me sexually aroused.

I have to say that I have not had any sex for a very long time, years even, and that massage woke my dick’s other function. It had remained locked up in the recesses of my voided memory, for I considered that having a sexual relationship with someone or anyone was unlikely to happen – not that I was planning to test the waters with Joe. It was just that a simple man crush of mine surely had to stop if I were to maintain a good relationship with him, which is to stay friends.

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The following week took a surprising turn of events from our usual weekly Sunday run. We finished our run very early so we had both agreed that it was time to go our separate ways and bid our goodbyes. I had an article due on Wednesday that I was planning to start that evening so going home early would be a good start.

All of a sudden, he asked me “Hey wanna grab a bite to eat? I’m starved.”

It was befuddling that he would consider going outside the premises of the park while we were still together. Moreover, for him to have asked me to be in his company was without a doubt intimidating, for it was something out of the ordinary.

So I said to him, “Why not. I’d probably just order in some pizza when I get home.”

He gave out this huge comforting smile, as he got excited with his various suggestions as to where we could dine. He already had something in mind, and for that, Italian seemed appropriate on that wondrous occasion despite the liberties that the White Plains’ night scene may have had to offer.

I just presumed that he simply wanted to boast his Italian lineage in relation to his love of food. Albeit thinking that it would be a more intimate setting for the two of us, it never occurred to me that it was a date.

Although my mind would not stretch that far - hoping that it would leave out that certain conundrum as to why he thought of inviting me to have dinner was indeed surprising. I simply thought of that event as another friendly get-together of two budding guys. (‘You beeeyotch!’, said my subconscious)

“So where are we eating?” I asked him.

“Well, there’s this famous restaurant that I’ve been dying to try. You know this place called Scampis, right across...”

I interrupted him while he ardently expressed his insights to the venue and said “Sure!” as my thoughts wandered off to a special place where all I could think of was the oddity that out of all the restaurants or any business establishments that serves food, he had recommended Scampis.

It was undeniably serendipitous for I too had thought of the exact place where we could have eaten, given that it was the only Italian restaurant I have dined in the past and knew in this side of town. So much for being a loser and a hermit at that very moment for not having known much of the town I lived in.

“Have you eaten there in the past?” He inquired.

I did not want to seem like a jackass in his presence by overshadowing his insights, noticing that he was very enthusiastic with enlightening me his newfound discovery. So I hesitatingly replied by having said “No, I haven’t tried eating there. Tonight would be a first.”

A sigh of relief came to his face as he said, “That’s great! Cool... uhm, so...are you ready?”

I thought for a while about the current disposition that I was in. I was in no way ready to dine at a fine restaurant while having worn something that had been soaked in sweat. Therefore, I thought of an excuse to make way for an idea that would have agreed to what he had planned.

I said to him, “Oh shit, my friend has my keys. I better go to my apartment and see where that turd left it.” as I scrambled for words to make up a follow-up explanation for that white lie.

His eyes widened. “So tonight’s cancelled?” he said as his forehead formed creases that only added to a frustrating predicament that I have instigated. I then explained “No no...what I meant was, can you wait for me here? I will make haste don’t worry. I just need to get my apartment keys.”

“Sure. But can I go with you?”

I was stumbling to make some form of justification to what I had just said when a better explanation came forth when I said to him, “I don’t want to hassle you Joe, and besides my place is filthy. I don’t want you seeing my disgusting mess that hasn’t been cleaned for days now.”

I was trying my best to persuade him but it seemed it only got him curious. I would be curious as well if I he had given me an opportunity to see where he lived. Who would not be inquisitive enough to see the real side of a person whom you have been spending time for the last three months.

I mean, it is only human nature for us to inquire about certain aspects of a stranger, let alone an acquaintance and more so, a friend. As the saying goes, birds of the same feather flock together. Much that anyone would want to be associated with a complete stranger or pry about a stranger’s personal life; of course, we all have to know some parts of the people we affiliate ourselves with.

Although, Joe was no stranger anymore in my life, Joe and I’s relationship seemed to have reached another level of comfort that disintegrated any notion that we were serial killers as a hobby. Though some secrets have not yet been divulged, as no formal inquiries regarding my sexuality had ever been a topic of discussion whenever we had our usual debates and conversations.

Such revelation would be pertinent to my relationship with him, but since he had not delved on that aspect yet, I have deterred myself that it was better to save that for future conversational references in case his curiosity did reach to that certain point of discerning. He barely mentioned anything about his personal life anyway, so why probe on something that the other person wishes to keep, as a part of a past that one wishes to stay locked up in ones memories.

“I don’t really care about the mess and it’s no hassle really. But it would be slightly eerie if you let me wait for you while I sit here at this bench...alone...in the dark.” He said.

His eyes met mine as it pleaded while he vocalized his bargain “Come on Luke. I won’t judge you for yer filth. I won’t even have to go inside your apartment if you don’t want me to.”

I was collecting my thoughts as to how I could have made that scenario work as I figured how it would meld the probabilities that would go my way. I was becoming desperate enough that I was willing to throw my keys at some recognizable thatch of gravel beside the usual bench that we sat upon every Sunday.

I could have made up another story and said, “Hey, my keys magically appeared along with my car keys! How cool is that, TADAH!” and it would all be over with. Nevertheless, I paid attention to my thinking cap and affirmed to myself that it was a contingent, full-proof plan – for having lied to him per se.

I finally agreed to his idea and said, “Might as well have you tag along since I am the delay of our planned gastronomic dinner.”

He replied with, “Your wit is no match for my powers of persuasion. I know that you’ll agree.”

He smiled and took a hold of his duffel bag and slid out his car keys from its inside pocket. I then teased him as my eyes raised and mockingly said to him “You don’t need to bring your car Joe, it’s a block away from here.”

“Okay then, that’s cool...erm, DUDE!”

“What’s with the dude? Impeccably lame!” I sneered back at him.

“Okay I’m shutting up now. Geeze. You’re such a tight cookie. Just loosen up will yah.” He gave out his roaring laugh, as we both grinned in unison as we exited the park.

We were silently approaching the west entrance of the park when he said, “Why don’t we just drive to your place. You did say that you have to rush to your apartment to catch up on your...friend. I could stay in the car and just wait for you.”

The way he said “friend” seemed to imply something that would have meant more than what the term defined it as such. But I dismissed his implication since it provided me the lesser evil not to have made up another story as to why I had my apartment keys to begin with.

“If you want to, that would be fine. It would just take a minute anyway.”

“So we’re good to go now, wait me for me here then.” He said.

I wondered with my presumptuous hollowed brain as to what his car would have looked like. I may never get to see where he lived and how his home would have appeared to be, but at least I would get to see a glimpse of what he drove around town.

I wondered at that moment if Paul Bunyan has driven those large four-wheel drive-enormous trucks that suited his appearance. Probably he rode a Harley Davidson to accompany his cool brooding aura that he always exuded. He did mention that we would be riding in his car so I was obviously bullshitting myself at that point on, probably from being too nervous about everything.

From a distance, a black car approached my vicinity as a white blinding flash from the car’s headlights pierced through my vision as it closed in to where I was standing, I could see a shiny silver panther like creature decked on top of the car’s hood. My jaw dropped when Joe walked out of the car, he gave a slight embarrassing grin as I screamed, “You fucking drive a Jaguar XKR Convertible sports car? I cannot even fucking afford my rent. Who are you? Do I even know you?”

He then coughed up a laugh and said, “Cool, you know your cars. Get inside.” while motioning me to hurry up and get my things inside his unbelievably dashing ride.

My eyes peered through the interior of his car as he drove. Everything inside his car gave me an impression that he was living the bachelor life since no signs of any car vomit, leftover remnants of used condoms or any leopard print knickers were in sight. Not even a single evidence of dust or shoe grime was inside his car that was visible through the human eye. He was simply too good in the subtleties of a proper car cleaning.

I felt self-conscious that my shoe was doing more of the mucking in his newly cleaned upholstery. I could not contain myself anymore so I asked him,

“Are you sure this is your car?”

“Amazing, and we’re back to day 1 after months of no disparaging remarks.” He scoffed at my inquiry that needed some answering.

“I’m sorry, but it’s really an oddball that you drive this expensive car and it looked like...” I was about to finish my sentence when I saw that we were nearing my apartment so I pointed him the direction and said, “...we nearly missed that intersection there, turn left.”

He tried to put on a smile as he managed through the steering wheel then he said, “I got this car after my first promotion. I’m still paying it now even after 5 years. I should have saved up for a house but at that time, it all seemed useless to me.” His expression became stern as he added, “I just ended an 8 year relationship when I decided to buy this.”

“What an expensive way to get over someone. What happened to buying yourself a hallmark card?”

He grinned his way out of the conversation just to alleviate the tension I felt after having heard him open up about his past relationship. As we approached our destination, I directed him to park near the driveway and suggested that he put out a hazard sign in case one of the occupants was to leave the premises so that his parking would not be a bother.

“You really don’t want me to come upstairs and see your apartment do you. I showed you my car didn’t I?” he said teasingly as he put on an impish grin.

“If it takes me more than 20 minutes to get my keys, just knock on unit 35E, 2^nd Floor. That is the second building on your right, over there. It’s the building in the middle”

“Oh I could see it from here. Okay, will prolly drag your ass here if takes you more than 20 minutes. I’m a patient man.” He chuckled and pressed a button to unlock the door.

“If you say so.” I then stepped out of his car and rushed to my unit.

When I got to my unit, it dawned on me that I had put my keys inside my bag, which was peacefully inside his car’s trunk compartment. It would really look like I was such a diva for having him wait for nothing if I went back to his car and get my keys while I explain to him the urgency of my own bumbling actions that had stemmed from a series of lies. All because I wanted to take a bath and change my clothes just because he asked me out to have dinner – the irony of wanting to smell good.

I saw a light on Allana’s apartment and thought of asking her for my spare keys that I gave her in case certain situations were to occur, which was precisely what was happening at that very moment. I knocked on her unit as harsh as I could, since the likelihood that Joe might pop up out of nowhere was an imminent catastrophe waiting to ensue.

The sounds of the door’s locks popping open were strangely coinciding with the voice of an unidentified man.

I was preparing my Jujitsu stance in case some trespassing thief may have entered her unit. I had no clue what I was doing at that time and relied on my crystallized knowledge from watching cable reruns of Jet Li’s Chinese action flick on the World Movies channel. As the door finally opened, I was prepared to pounce on any marauding stranger that came out of Allana’s apartment, when a recognized face greeted me.

“Hey Luke. What’s with that pose, were you just about to punch me!” His face grimaced with confusion while his eyebrows arched in surprise.

I exclaimed, “Ryan! What are you doing here, where is Allana?”

“Oh, she went to pick up some groceries. We were supposed to watch a movie but then decided to stay home instead. She just texted me a while ago that she’ll just get some sushi at the town. She’ll be here soon.”

I got a look inside Allana’s apartment and saw piles and stacks of mess coming from the unwashed dishes in the sink, disorganized pillows on the sofa, plates of food that were randomly left on the floor, and cans of beer condensing and leaving out puddles of water on the coffee table.

“Ryan, put some coaster under those freaking beer cans. I’m the one who’s cleaning that up.”

“Damn, you noticed. I’ll clean that up later, don’t you worry sir.”

As he fumbled through the kitchen to get the coaster to put under his can of beer, I remembered the urgency of the matter as to why I was there to begin with. I said to him, “Ryan I need my spare keys to my unit. Do you know where Allana put it?”

“Dude, I don’t live here. I can’t even find that stupid coaster. Didn’t you bring your keys with you?”

I abruptly heard footsteps as I was about to enter Allana’s unit to search for my keys. I looked to my left and saw Joe smiling. I was trying to see any hints of him being annoyed but all he said was, “Your 20 minutes is up. Did you find what yer lookin for?”

“My friend’s not here.”

Ryan overheard our conversation and approached outside the entrance door where Joe and I were standing as he blurted out “My my, Luke...who’se he? Your boy...” I intercepted him before he could finish his commentary.

“Luke, this is Ryan. Ryan this is Luke, my running buddy.”

Joe then entered the unit and reached for Ryan’s hand as he said, “Nice meeting you Ryan.” Ryan snickered while having glanced towards my direction as he reaffirmed Joe’s handshake and threw back a reply, “Same goes, Joe.”

“Nice job Luke, finding yourself a running *coughs* buddy Not bad.” Then he added, “So, running buddy huh...that’s an odd term you use apparently.” Ryan snorted then chuckled at Joe and me.

I was getting the faint insidious hints to what Ryan had said. But I kept my reserve and tried to make it casual by having said “Odd term? I do not think so. Joe’s more of a coach rather than my running buddy if you ask me.”

I smiled and looked at Joe to assert a known fact that he was indeed more of a personal coach than someone whom I would have shared a particular passion with. He was the reason why I even started running.

He convinced me, on our first month of spending each Sunday afternoons together, that I had the potential to develop my hamstring by making it tougher and more resilient to physical stress. Therefore, he suggested that I go run with him the following week. I enjoyed more the conversations that we shared when we ran, in comparison to the actual activity itself.

However, in order to keep appearances that I was enjoying what I was doing, I sometimes exerted the extra mile of outdoing his record of running five lapses in an hour – without any success – just to perk his interest that I was competitive and was taking his lessons by heart.

Despite having never done any rigorous physical activity in the past, besides my La Crosse and mini Cricket games back in college, or competed in any marathon or triathlon twice like what he did, talking with him and enjoying his company gave me a sense of relief, much like a compassionate effort on his behalf to spend time with me.

Ryan headed straight to the couch as he slouched and placed his feet on the coffee table while he sorted through the channels. He offered Joe a can of beer and invited him to have a seat on the sofa, which Joe humbly declined – seeing that Ryan was all too comfortable at his own seating.

“You really haven’t got a clue where your spare keys are?” said Joe, as he stood beside the couch while Ryan watched the football game on the sports channel.

“Did you check the flower pot?” said Ryan.

I remembered the fake orchid plant hanging outside Allana’s apartment and that she always had a knack of placing things inside that fake ornament that she would soon forget. So I went outside and saw the brown leather keychain and took it out of the flowerpot then shouted “Got it, at last.”

“You’ve got your keys? Are you ready to go?” Joe said. Having not forgotten the real reason for my delays, I said in reply “Can I just take a quick shower?

“Why not! It’s only five minutes after five in the afternoon. I’m pretty sure the food can wait, but you seem really anxious to get a bath. I’ll wait.” He grinned and asked me to lead the way.

I quickly went inside my apartment and soon followed Joe. He said “Wow, what happened to your place looking like a pig sty as what I had imagined.”

“Magda, my cleaning lady must have been here.”

“Shut up man! You have a cleaning lady? Your apartment’s nice...oh wow, you have those new flat screens out in the market, I hear they cost a fortune.” He said.

He then approached a rectangular fish tank and lightly tapped on the glass that contained a blue Pygmy Angelfish, “Look what we have here, I finally get to meet Bernie. Hey Bernie!”

I just smiled at him to conceal the truth that having a housekeeper around the apartment who visited me on a weekly basis was one of the perks I enjoyed for receiving a monthly stipend coming from my trust fund that I had, ever since I turned 18.

It was one of those certain benefits that I do not really need, to which my mom protested with conviction that I do something with it. If not buy a house in the Hamptons then at least spend for some form of luxury in my life. So I decided to study at Cambridge University and got my masters there, bought a condo unit in Manhattan and paid my weekly housekeeper named Magda, who was also my nanny for 18 years until I went to college.

Right now, a famous pop singer is renting my condominium unit. As for the income, I told the bank to put the income in another trust fund for some random child I am to adopt someday when I reach my 40’s. On the other hand, in case I woke up someday and some kid would be knocking on my door saying he or she is my bastard child, to which is very unlikely to happen knowing my bad sexual history with women.

However, I did donate some of my sperm in a sperm bank brought on by a college dare, so the likelihood of having a future kid was all too plausible.

One of the bank appropriators said that I cannot put my money on some anonymous child that may or may not have existed, so I threatened them that I would pull out my remaining money and get an account to another bank that would satisfy their customer’s need.

The bank did heed to my fair warning, which resulted to me getting a monthly allowance and a hidden trust fund for my future offspring, due to the directions I instructed that the bank was to provide me, instead of having access to the millions I never wanted in the first place.

Joe scanned the whole of my apartment, every nook and cranny was with his peering eyes trying to observe any anomalies or obscurities that one would severely hide, apart from the bits of information that he knew about me. He set his gaze on my CD collection, grazed his fingers on the titles, and flickered through its contents. I observed him silently as I went to the cupboard to get a drinking glass.

“You have an interesting collection of music here. You’re into classical music?”

I said to him while I opened the fridge, “Yeah, used to play the piano but wasn’t really my thing. Hey you want to grab a beer while you wait for me? I will be ready in 15 minutes tops. And the remote’s over there...feel free to be at home.”

He took a seat in the lounge as I gave him a bottle of beer then he said, “Your music collection is really great. Although I have no clue who most of those composers are, I think I now know why you’re so silent and uptight most of the time. It’s because of the music you’re listening to.” He gave out a smirk as I went to my room.

I turned around and said, “Do not blame the music; blame the person whom I am with for my personality.” I gave him a whimsical look in exchange for his recent banter.

“Hey! I don’t bring out the worse in you do I? I think I’m a good influence on you if you ask me.” We both laughed in unison.

I frantically searched my closet as I heard Joe changing the channels. I felt like a girl on the night of her prom while her date anxiously waited for her to get dressed. Okay wrong comparison, but the feeling that the night had to be perfect was paramount to that unexpected occasion. I was nervously flipping away hanger after hanger, thinking that the shirt, polo, cardigan, jacket, jeans or sweater was too much for what he had planned. I even thought of browsing through my formal wear, which obviously was too overstated.

I did not want to make Joe feel like a fool while I wore a suit and tie considering that his invite was impromptu. Therefore, I decided to match what I would be wearing to what he already wore. I chose a beige long sleeved turtleneck, dark blue denim jeans and a black leather biker jacket, all thanks to the Salvation Army and Armani. The jacket would be the only expensive thing in my body and the only jacket that I had that went well with my chosen apparel for the night.

I was very hesitant to wear that jacket or even thought about wearing it. Allana would have sent me to another shrink if she knew that I kept that jacket. But then, I thought about that the night called for no sentimentalist’s point of view, and having worn that jacket was exhilarating and freeing.

I took off my clothes; put it in the laundry bin and headed to the shower. I probably did the fastest shower in my life, which approximately went for seven minutes as I scrubbed my body so hard that I felt the loofah rubbing off the first layer of my skin. I stepped off the shower, dried myself, brushed my teeth and dabbled on to my face some moisturiser then dampened some hair gloss to get that bed head look – a bad hair day waiting to ensue.

I put on the clothes that I had layered on my bed earlier then took my red chucks from my shoe rack, sprayed myself some perfume, then went to the lounge and saw Joe, crossing his legs while idly staring at me as I glanced back at him.

“Uhm, how the hell did you get to change your clothes when I didn’t see you bring anything to wear?” I said in astonishment.

“I’ve been waiting here for 45 minutes you dummy. I decided to take a bath myself. I asked your friend, ugh, what’s his name again...Ryan, if I could take a bath in his apartment. And he was cool enough to let me have a real quick shower. Imagine, I had enough time to go get my bag, knock on your friend’s door, take a bath and get changed. Hmm...you owe me 2 more lapses on next week’s run.” He snickered as he looked at my grimaced expression then laughed his boisterous laugh.

I rifled a quick reply in horror that I had wasted most of my time by choosing my clothes, so I said to him “I’m really sorry that it took me ages to get dressed. What a disgrace to have my guest waiting.”

“No harm done man, at least I got to change my clothes and feel refreshed tonight. It would be unfair for me that you got dressed for the night while I smelled like a football locker room the whole evening. I do have my manners yeh know.”

He turned off the television and rose up then said, “So are you ready now? I’m hoping you won’t tell me that you forgot to feed Bernie this time because right now, I’m really hungry and might start munching on the leftovers in your fridge.”

I quickly had a glimpse to what he wore and to my shock; I have never seen a man wear a plaid polo shirt while looking so good. The image of Michael, my balding editor, wearing his infamous plaid shirts would give anyone the will to curse the Cowboys for creating such a look. It had been sadly embedded in my mind that anything plaid was nasty and having seen Joe wearing one gave me a certain rush that dialling 911 was imminent to my safety or even to his.

Even his light blue jeans fitted him nicely. I was eyeing on the overtly large bulge in between his legs for a good nanosecond. I kept on thinking to myself“I don’t want to be filed a lawsuit for sexual harassment happening in my own home.”

I was trying to be a Mrs. Grundy so I focused on his face for a good minute. His long chestnut brown, wavy hair pulled back gave it a nice touch, while his muscles were about to burst open his red, white, and blue colored plaid shirt – thank God for America!

I realized that his nicely trimmed beard was adding to the image of him being a poster child for Marlboro. The only thing needed was a good ol’ cowboy boots, a cowboy hat, and a whip to add to the effect...and probably him riding a white horse to finish that imagery (the whip was giving me the image of Indiana Jones, wrong wrong wrong!).

He was a remarkable sight, and my jaw nearly dropped when I noticed how gorgeous he was especially when he gave out his crooked smile. I was smiling back and slightly opened my mouth a bit to the point that a fly could nest into my mouth for all its spacious accommodations. Soon, I nestled on the thought that maybe he was smiling because I looked like an idiot with what I had worn.

“Why are you staring?” He retorted and tried to find an image of his reflection in the television set.

“Sorry, I think I might be wearing inappropriately for tonight.” I said as my face panicked.

“Nah, you’re good. It should be me that should be worried. Look at me!” He picked up my frustration as he showed a crooked smile that gave me a certain elated feeling of comfort.

The only thing that went wrong was the clothes I had chosen to wear; I was either hitting the club, a fashion show, or a rave party. I wondered where I did not listen to the part where my other self was saying turn it down a notch or simply be low key damn it.

We arrived at the vicinity of the restaurant at 6:23 pm and parked a few blocks away from the restaurant since the place was flooded with people and parking was difficult. As we entered the restaurant, the maitre d’ prompted in front of us and asked us if we had reservations, if none then we had to wait in the lobby until a seat was vacated.

“Yes, table for two for De Morellio.” said Joe.

“Sir, we had given your table away for you had your reservations at exactly 6:00 pm sharp and we have a 10 minute grace period in case you have not arrived on time, in which you have...not, arrived on time.” said the slightly flamboyant host.

I looked at Joe and asked him, “You had us reservations?”

“Yeah, when you were looking for your keys I called in and reserved us a table. I know any restaurant tonight would be packed since it’s a Sunday. I just want to eat darn it.”

I tried to step in then said to the host, “Can’t you make any considerations? Can you tell us exactly if whether there would be an available seat in let us say...another 10 minutes or so? Because my friend is really starving and so am I. It would be splendid if we could be seated; if not then we better take our leave.”

“Just wait for a second SIR. For you I would consider, more than consider.”

The host gave me a slimy look you would get when you know someone was hitting on you and his suggestive wink topped it off. I was patient enough to let it pass knowing Joe was starting to get irritated and cranky from all the abrupt grunting noises he was making.

Since it was my entire fault, why we have been standing there and not seated comfortably for the server to have asked us our orders, I shrugged with embarrassment as Joe lifted his gaze to his watch.

The host looked in his computer and said to us, “There would be an opening in five minutes. A seated couple is just waiting for their bill.” then gave me another wink.

“Finally!” said Joe as he heaved in a sigh of relief.

“Hey, we got here first!” said the large woman seating in the lounge.

“It’s a table for two Miss. Not a table for 20, considering your size...we probably would need the reimbursed steel chairs, not that wooden one that’s been holding on to its dear life. It might not hold out any longer... Alex! Get this woman an industrial chair!”

The host scurried off in the back room as our server approached us. “Good evening sirs welcome to Scampis. I am Sheena and will be your server for the night. Please follow me.”

We followed Sheena, our server, and I saw people gawking at Joe. It made me a tad uncomfortable that adorning looks were being thrown in our direction, more so, to his direction. Even our server was sending out profound smiles connoting some desire to Joe, and it was more irritating and all too awkward for he was throwing back the stares that he had been given.

It certainly made a statement that he loved the unspoken praises he had received, or he was just glad that we finally got our seat as we approached our designated table.

“So what’s for dinner Sheena?” Joe softly asked, while having thrown back a glance at her.

“We have a four course dinner, a six course dinner and an eight course dinner for tonight sir...?” as she waited for him to say his name.

“Call me Joe.” He shrugged then smiled at her sprightly energy.

I was trying to clench my fist with all my might and prevented myself from shouting aloud “Die you whore!” until she focused her attention on me then said “And you sir, what would be your name?”

“I’m...” then Joe interrupted and said, “Sheena, my stomach’s growling. You don’t want to let a man wait to get his grub would you?”

“Yes Joe, so what would be your order sir?”

“What is wrong with you, she was asking about my name. Sorry about that Sheena, I’m Luke.” I stared at him as he laughed at my interjection.

“Ha! I’m hungry man. I want some food.” said Joe as he eyed Sheena.

She then took a small stick and took out the menu behind her grip. “Tonight, we have a wonderful selection of our four courses, six course and eight course meal. Our theme this month is the eight lovely sins prepared by our very own head chef, Chef Andrew Whitmore. Tonight’s theme is our own version of the seven deadly sins, that is accompanied with a 2003 Silver Oak Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon Vertical Red Wine or our 1990 d'Yquem, Sauternes white wine. The eight lovely sins comprise of Hurt, Lies, Faith, Trust, Respect, Adoration, Sex, and Love. The eight courses have all eight themed dishes that are composed of three different appetizers, two different entrees, one main course, and two different desserts. The 4-course menu has one of each from the themed selection for the four parts of the dinner. While the 6-course menu enables you to select two from each of the themed selection at any of the four parts of the dinner, except the main course. We also have our single food orders in case you prefer an array of our famous New York Italian Pizzas to go with our selection of fine alcoholic beverages. So what would like to have tonight for this lovely evening sir?”

I was sternly eyeing Joe and was waiting for his decision as to what he would prefer to eat then he said to me, “Do you want the eight course meal? Are you up for it? What’dya say?”

I thought for a second then said in reply to his question, “I think we should go with the Pizzas. We don’t look gentleman enough to eat an eight course meal.”

”Are you saying that I don’t look handsome enough for you? Doesn’t mean that just cause you’re drop dead gorgeous tonight don’t mean you have to put down us common folks Luke.” Both he and Sheena chided and laughed at the same time.

“What are you implying? That is not what I meant.” I then looked away when I remembered that he thought of me being gorgeous. ‘He probably was just making fun of what I looked like and what I had worn, typical Joe.’ I thought to myself.

My hands signalled him to come closer to me until I could have spoken out in whisper; I said to him, “I was surmising on the fact that I only brought $50 with me. I forgot my wallet. I got the money I have with me now, inside my gym bag in your car’s trunk. I wanted to return to my apartment but you look like you could kill me if ever I asked you to return to my apartment and have another cause for a delay. I’m being a klutz now. Sorry again...” I whispered to him then frowned at my embarrassment for having forgotten my wallet inside my running shorts, currently inside my laundry basket.

He gave out a forceful grin as it contained his laughter at my expense as he whispered back to me “Don’t apologize Luke...I told you it’s my treat. I was the one who invited you out so stop dilly dallying and just get on with the program okay.”

“I’m still paying you when you drive me home. Thanks.” I smiled back as he motioned his fingers to me “Nah, I’m payin our meal uhmmm-kay.”

He turned back his attention to Sheena then asked her, “So how much is the eight course meal by the way. I don’t see any numbers on the menu.”

“It’s $180 for the 4 course meal, $240 for the 6 course meal and $320 for the 8 course meal, while it’s $580 for the Red Wine and $647 for the white wine Joe. The wines that I have mentioned earlier have been specifically paired for the themed dishes just for tonight. But if you want the more expensive and a more elaborate selection then I shall bring you our wine list.”

“Oh god, it’s that expensive.” I jittered at the mention of the prices.

Though I knew that I might have dined in restaurants that were more luxurious in the past and were more expensive, it was mostly my mother or my credit card that had paid for those night outs, lunches, dinners or brunch.

The first time I ate at Scampis, I paid $40 because both my friend and I ordered the pizza...not the set course dinner, therefore, we shared the bill and now I have realized that we paid $80 for a pizza (WTF!). I did say that I have lived on take-outs and with my trust fund completely cut off for my own benefit; it was only now that I have experienced the true hurdles of having a limited income.

I have not eaten in a nice restaurant in a very long time since I went back to the States, except Scampis and the occasional affordable bar and restaurants that Allana and I visited, for which she had mostly offered to pay. Even when I was living in London taking up my master’s degree, I had a job to pay for my living quarters and my living expenses on a weekly basis.

Some people with money problems would probably shoot me in the head for being a masochist by living the harder life. What I do know is that money messes a person’s psyche, and at that moment it had started to muck my mind, all thanks to Joe’s offer – men and their egos (not that I could pay for dinner anyway).

“You’re complaining on how expensive it is, yet you’re wearing an Armani jacket? Damn, you’re stingy. Sheena, we’ll take the eight course dinner please. Thanks.” Joe’s eyes wondered towards my Jacket as Sheena left for the kitchen.

I wondered as to how he knew I had worn Armani, up until I saw his gaze towards the small insignia logo in my right arm that said ARMANI, figures.

“I did not buy this; someone dear gave it to me.” I nodded in his direction.

“Oh. Did that Ryan guy give it to you?”

“Why would Ryan give me a Jacket, or anything? That would be too inappropriate unless it would be my birthday.” I said in wonderment to his imposition.

“Forget what I said earlier. I’m just hungry that’s all. You know that blonde guy with a high voice in the entrance of this restaurant, I’m pretty sure he has the hots for you man. He was flirting with you a while ago. But thanks to you, we got good seats.” He snickered with a laugh.

“Your point being?” I gave him a sardonic look.

“And there’s your evil eyes of doom staring me with death written all over your face. Keep it cool Luke, I was just kidding. Can I at least have my dinner before you kill me?” His eyes got worried with my expression but when he saw my eyes soften a bit, he just laughed the remainder of it.

“We did have good seats so you should be kissing me instead of mocking me.” I said to him while I imitate his crooked smile. I saw him coughing without any expression and he looked like someone knocked him out of his seat so I asked him, “Joe? Is something wrong, you look like you are about to crap your pants, cough out your lungs or particularly to that same effect? Are you not feeling okay?”

The crowd around us got a good look at him breathing heavily and nearly choking as it had appeared to be, and it seemed all of them were expecting me to do the Heimlich manoeuver. Why in the world would I do that, I thought to myself, we have not even started our dinner so what was there for him to vomit or spew in case he was indeed choking?

“*coughs* no I’m good. My throat’s itchy *coughs* But I’m good people”. He started putting up an “Ok” sign for everyone to see while gasps and mild applauses soon followed.

“What a weird crowd tonight. Why are they all silently cheering for you, you are not choking on food. Hold on a second, were you choking? Unless you were really choking then all I could say is, good for you for not dying on me because I cannot pay this bill on my own.” I looked at him with a worried face, as he laughed at my undeserving concern.

“Don’t worry, you could leave your jacket and put it as a down payment for the bill, in case I drop dead while eating an eight course dinner based on some stupid random emotions.” He placed his elbows on the table and clamped his fingers together as he snickered.

It took him a couple of minutes to say something, and then he stared directly to my eyes hinting the seriousness of his mood as he surprisingly said to me “I have something urgent that I need to confess to you Luke. It’s really bugging me these past few weeks.”

I started to sweat profusely with the idea that he was about to confess something that would knock me out of breath, as much as he did. That was the moment where all I was thinking was that he knew about me, and he was thinking of distancing himself from me because he had found it too awkward to be near me, for he knew I am gay.

Maybe that was why he invited me to that restaurant, because he knew I was allergic to shellfish or any live crustacean so he planned to feed me seafood...in order to plant his revenge just because I have not told him I am gay! (Some preposterous theories I have).

I had prepared for the precise moment for him to open his mouth and confess everything, that all I was thinking were the words he would utter. It was like a slow motion movie sequence as he opened his lips as he said the words,

“I got promoted!”

“Congratulations!” was the first word I said, followed by, “No wonder you asked me out tonight. We do need to celebrate!”

I gave out my best impression of a person who had been grazed by a bullet near his heart by a few millimetres, and was saying Hallelujah for having been given a second chance in life.

“Thanks man. Hey Luke, you are sweating profusely. Why don’t you take off your jacket?” He then called one of the servers to have the air-conditioning adjusted as I took out the folded table napkin and wiped off my cold sweat. I said in reply, “Yeah, I should take it off. It is hot. Whew!” despite my body having felt completely dry to which I still took it off.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Ugh, my head hurts...”

“Good, you’re awake.”

I wake up peevish, and with the worse hangover that I am now experiencing in my life. I look around and see that I am not in my apartment. There he is, Joe, wearing only a white cotton shirt and pinstriped boxer shorts, while he stares down at me with concern as he offers me a glass of water.

“I can’t believe 4 glasses of red wine would knock you out in a tailspin.” He says while laughing.

“What happened and what time is it?” as I ask him feverishly while trying to garner my bearings to what is left of my recollection from last night’s dinner.

I then ask him another question, “Did I even get to finish all throughout dinner?” as I take the glass of water from his grasp, while I sip it slowly to help gain my senses.

“It’s 7:40 am. And by the way you did, and you drank all the wine after dessert. It was fun watching you babble like some drunk idiot...I’m not saying you’re an idiot Luke, well to my surprise, our conversation last night was the most interesting we’ve had. More than what I have expected if you ask me.” He smirks as he sits in the lounge table across his sofa from which I have slept apparently, throughout the whole night.

“Where am I?” I shrug while still being puzzled.

“How rude of me, welcome to my apartment. I tried dropping you off to yours but I don’t know where you had put your keys so I decided to let you stay here. I don’t think leaving you in your place as you crawl through your bed is something I’d leave to my conscience.”

I place my hand in my forehead as the seething palpitations of my brain starts jeering me to lay down my head against the earth’s gravity. I lay my head to the nearest soft object I can place my head into, to which I find a pillow tucked behind my back. Joe quickly moves himself as I jiggle my neck as he tries to support my aching body.

Sunday’s running session combined with my shocking lack of alcohol tolerance may have done a harsher damage to me recuperating from all that running. I move myself sideward to lessen the tension from my whole body, and close my eyes.

I can feel the warm heat of a foreign matter as it is gets position into my forehead. The warmth emanating from a skin as it feels my own skin is making me want to search for my hand as I wonder whose hand is feeling my throbbing head. My body tenses and starts to shiver from the cold wind that comes from the open window as my eyes, shut close, blindly searches for the heat that I have felt a while ago. I then open my eyes and see Joe, with a panic-stricken look on his face as he says, “I think you’re getting the flu.”

He flies across his seat towards the white door as he vanishes from my sight. A couple of minutes later, I feel a strong hand slowly grip in support of my back as I am gently being lifted from my horizontal composure, as his dark calming voice orders me to open my eyes.

“Luke, drink this okay. You shouldn’t have taken off your jacket from last night cause it was freezing outside when I drove us here. Now I feel shit that you have to go through this under my watch. Crap.”

I take the two capsules of the pills he has placed on my palm, without asking the name of the drug I have just engulfed down my throat. I then say to him “I feel a bit drowsy but I’ll be all right.”

I take off the sheets that covered me as I try to lift myself, hoping I could get out of the couch and have the proper rest in my own bed that I need in my own apartment. It was humiliating enough what the conversation he had mentioned was all too about, but my head is spinning and my body is riveting in pain, which is more than I can handle at this time being.

Having given him much to think about me is too much for a span of one evening. He may have thought that I am some drunk, cavorting with so-called “friends” for some uninhibited night of binge drinking, and the thought of my current situation is the worse impression to give to a person who just paid for some expensive dinner, which is way beyond my moral discerning.

I decide to leave his apartment, go home, and make way for my planned apologies as soon as I get back to health.

He then repositions himself and holds me as soon as I try to lift my growing heavy stature from the strain that my bones and innards are putting in me.

Then he says, “You’re not going anywhere. I know it’d be a better thing for you if you stayed in your own apartment since you’d feel rested than sleep in a stranger’s house. But since you can’t even lift yourself...you don’t want to make me feel guiltier than what I’m feeling now for probably having done this to you would you?”

I nod in compliance to his idea to stay in his apartment seeing that I am in no shape whatsoever to go anywhere but stay in his couch until I am rested enough to do my affairs. I soon notice that I have been wearing different clothing from what I had worn from last night.

My long sleeved shirt is now replaced by a pinstriped-buttoned nightwear that is too familiar and is too large for my body frame. It is the same color and design to that of Joe’s boxer shorts in which he is wearing. I then peek under the blanket sheets that covers my lower body and see myself stripped down to my grey bikini briefs.

My face turns red as I tried remembering how I lost all my clothes to which the only recognizable thing I had worn from last night is my briefs. I have completely forgotten Joe’s lingering presence there beside me as he sheepishly grins while observing me as I look at my near naked lower body with dismay.

He again sits on the outer edge of the coffee table besides the sofa then says, “Don’t worry, I’m no pervert. If yer wondering why yer wearing my nightgown is cause you started stripping away your clothes the moment I laid you down the sofa. You just kept throwing your clothes all over the place so I gave you my nightshirt since I thought you might freeze to death. And I when I came back to get you some water...you were dozing off like a baby.” He starts laughing as he points towards a brown paper bag then says, “I put all your clothes there dont’cha worry.”

He then rises from his seat to go towards a different white door from which he went earlier to get the pills. He comes back with a basin and a cold compress. By the time he is sitting on the edge of the coffee table, I have been frantically shaking my body as he realizes that the cold wind is coming from the large glass French window.

He immediately stands up from his seat and closes the opening that has been the source of my shivering. I feel the heat of the room soon covering the atmosphere as he turns on the heater then he says, “You need to sweat it out for you to get better. I’ll get some of my warmers for you to wear. Be back in jiffy.”

A couple of minutes later as my eyes have begun to spasm as I make way for sleep, I feel his touch gently lifting my back, then my arms, as he inserts my head towards the opening of the wool sweater. It is still too large for my size but feels more commodious in all respects as it makes my body warmer.

The wet sponge-like object caressing my forehead, as the cold escaping water trickles down my forehead gives me a cooling sensation. It then shifts into a more icy feeling as the cold compress replaces the sponge that had drenched my forehead. My sense of sight is of no use to me as my headache starts to swell within my head, longer and with more pressure. All I can do is rest my eyes and hope that my body will leave its punishing for another day.

And all I can hear is the lulling music from some ornate device as I recognize the song playing on the background. I remember J Frank Wilson and the Cavalier’s cover song ‘Last Kiss’ and tries remembering the memories that dates back to where I have heard the song.

I start to toss and wiggle my body to my right and slowly open my eyes and see Joe sitting on the opposite end of the sofa looking straight towards me, alert, as ever, as he says, “Do you need anything?”

I nod sideways and he smiles until I close my eyes while I drift to sleep. The line from the song ‘Where oh where could my baby be...’ keeps swirling deep in my thoughts as the soporific nature of the pills takes its effect on my system. The antibiotic finally makes its way through my body that even I could not resist drowsing away to sleep.

“William...” I whisper.

“Oh, him...” a faint deep voice trembles across the room, as my thoughts drift to another place, not ready to remember and not ready to forget.