girlfriend felt my helping him out around the time rent was due was inappropriate."
Chris folded his arms and sat back. "Now, I'm going to ask you a question -- a simple, yes-or-no question -- and you are going to tell me the truth, or I will seriously kick your ass. I'm from Texas. We know how to issue a beat down. Do you understand?"
Sebastian looked Chris over critically.
Chris cracked his knuckles and rolled his neck, loosening up to fight.
"Fine."
"Good." Chris folded his arms. "Now look me in the eyes and tell me the God's honest truth: did Jason ever ask you for money? Did he ever tell you to give him cash?"
Sebastian sucked in his cheeks and looked away.
"No."
* * * *
On the best day, Jason would've been difficult to track. Now that Jason actively avoided him, Chris had few options. He found a shadowy alley in which to hide where neither Jason nor the bouncers could see him. He waited there nightly, watching for Jason.
Once he gave up on the front, he stalked the backdoor, waiting for any sign of blond hair or high heels. There were a few false alarms, but as far as Chris could tell, Jason was enjoying himself inside with no sign of leaving.
Fall gave way to winter, which was when New York's weather turned truly cold. Fashion Week loomed. Chris had spent the day on go-sees, booked by even more designers than he had been for spring and summer. Sebastian said his networking worked and Chris should get back to it.
But Chris was more interested in waiting for Jason to appear. Word from NYU came; he was accepted--on probation--for the spring semester. Getting back in school was worth celebrating, but the accomplishment felt hollow. He couldn't hold onto such an abstract notion of happiness without the right person to share it with.
After another Jason no-show at the club, Chris, shivering from the cold and blowing on his fingers, decided to stop by the newsstand-coffee shop he'd visited with Sebastian.
The shop had undergone some small renovations since he'd last been here. The flowers were gone, and though the counter still held newspapers and magazines, a glass pastry shelf filled with muffins and miniature Bundt cakes was located at the back.
Behind the counter were a very large espresso machine and several cups.The Mom n’ Pop wasn't yet a Starbucks; it still had the homegrown feel no free wireless and bland jazz musical selections could ever touch. The blond barista shined the brass knobs on the machine, his back to Chris. When Chris cleared his throat, the blond turned and dropped his rag.
Now that Chris got a look at him, he noticed the barista didn’t wear pants. Instead, he wore a white oxford with a garter belt with long black fishnet stockings. His apron was fabulously embroidered with crystals and lace. And, of course, on his face was the ubiquitous dark eyeliner and ruby lipstick.
"Jason!"
"You must be cold, hanging outside of that club like a vagabond." After his initial shock, Jason seemed to take Chris's arrival in stride. He set a steaming cup of coffee on the counter and pulled his shirt cuff chastely over his wrist.
"You knew I was out there?" Chris took the coffee, still in shock.
"You're hardly a ninja, Chris. Everyone knew you were out there."
Jason poured himself a cup and leaned against the counter.
"And you just let me do it?"
A smile tugged at Jason's lips. "Obviously."
"But why?"
"Because you deserved it." The cuff on his right sleeve slipped down again, and he tugged it back into place, frowning.
"So that's it? One day of lousy judgment and I'm out?" Chris finished his cup and set it on the counter.
Jason refilled it. "Pretty much."
"That's fucked up." Chris ignored the coffee.
"What? Me? Fucked up? That should hardly be a surprise to you. You're the one who pointed out to me how fucked up I was. With your front row center seat to my one-man freak show, I can't believe you're surprised."
"Look, I'm sorry, okay? You're right. I let Sebastian get to me and it was
Chris folded his arms and sat back. "Now, I'm going to ask you a question -- a simple, yes-or-no question -- and you are going to tell me the truth, or I will seriously kick your ass. I'm from Texas. We know how to issue a beat down. Do you understand?"
Sebastian looked Chris over critically.
Chris cracked his knuckles and rolled his neck, loosening up to fight.
"Fine."
"Good." Chris folded his arms. "Now look me in the eyes and tell me the God's honest truth: did Jason ever ask you for money? Did he ever tell you to give him cash?"
Sebastian sucked in his cheeks and looked away.
"No."
* * * *
On the best day, Jason would've been difficult to track. Now that Jason actively avoided him, Chris had few options. He found a shadowy alley in which to hide where neither Jason nor the bouncers could see him. He waited there nightly, watching for Jason.
Once he gave up on the front, he stalked the backdoor, waiting for any sign of blond hair or high heels. There were a few false alarms, but as far as Chris could tell, Jason was enjoying himself inside with no sign of leaving.
Fall gave way to winter, which was when New York's weather turned truly cold. Fashion Week loomed. Chris had spent the day on go-sees, booked by even more designers than he had been for spring and summer. Sebastian said his networking worked and Chris should get back to it.
But Chris was more interested in waiting for Jason to appear. Word from NYU came; he was accepted--on probation--for the spring semester. Getting back in school was worth celebrating, but the accomplishment felt hollow. He couldn't hold onto such an abstract notion of happiness without the right person to share it with.
After another Jason no-show at the club, Chris, shivering from the cold and blowing on his fingers, decided to stop by the newsstand-coffee shop he'd visited with Sebastian.
The shop had undergone some small renovations since he'd last been here. The flowers were gone, and though the counter still held newspapers and magazines, a glass pastry shelf filled with muffins and miniature Bundt cakes was located at the back.
Behind the counter were a very large espresso machine and several cups.The Mom n’ Pop wasn't yet a Starbucks; it still had the homegrown feel no free wireless and bland jazz musical selections could ever touch. The blond barista shined the brass knobs on the machine, his back to Chris. When Chris cleared his throat, the blond turned and dropped his rag.
Now that Chris got a look at him, he noticed the barista didn’t wear pants. Instead, he wore a white oxford with a garter belt with long black fishnet stockings. His apron was fabulously embroidered with crystals and lace. And, of course, on his face was the ubiquitous dark eyeliner and ruby lipstick.
"Jason!"
"You must be cold, hanging outside of that club like a vagabond." After his initial shock, Jason seemed to take Chris's arrival in stride. He set a steaming cup of coffee on the counter and pulled his shirt cuff chastely over his wrist.
"You knew I was out there?" Chris took the coffee, still in shock.
"You're hardly a ninja, Chris. Everyone knew you were out there."
Jason poured himself a cup and leaned against the counter.
"And you just let me do it?"
A smile tugged at Jason's lips. "Obviously."
"But why?"
"Because you deserved it." The cuff on his right sleeve slipped down again, and he tugged it back into place, frowning.
"So that's it? One day of lousy judgment and I'm out?" Chris finished his cup and set it on the counter.
Jason refilled it. "Pretty much."
"That's fucked up." Chris ignored the coffee.
"What? Me? Fucked up? That should hardly be a surprise to you. You're the one who pointed out to me how fucked up I was. With your front row center seat to my one-man freak show, I can't believe you're surprised."
"Look, I'm sorry, okay? You're right. I let Sebastian get to me and it was
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