Page 3 of The Master

“I still haven’t figured out what to do,” I admitted. “She’s had my back about Nate from moment one, but I know part of why she supported me was because she’s always trusted my judgment. I hate the idea of her not being able to do that anymore.”

Perry gave me a squeeze. “Ash, I looked up that asshole, and trust me when I say he’d make anyone lose their sound judgment.”

“He’s right,” Gary added with a wink. “I don’t even like dick, and I think he’s hot.”

I laughed, and some of my tension eased. I felt like I’d been on edge for the entire week, constantly worrying about if I’d see Nate at work, what I’d say if we did cross paths. Fortunately for me, he seemed as determined to avoid me this time as I was to avoid him. I supposed that was a good thing since it meant I didn’t need to worry about him pushing me into forgiving him like he had the last time he’d behaved like a jackass.

No, I reprimanded myself, I wasn’t going to lay that at his feet. Each time he’d done something stupid and then apologized, I’d forgiven him of my own volition. He was right when he said I’d know exactly who he was when I’d first gotten involved with him. Yes, there had been some things I hadn’t completely understood at first, but I’d never made the mistake of thinking that he was simply misunderstood. I’d known all too well exactly how he could be.

“Enough of my self-pity party,” I said, straightening. “The pizza should be here soon, and we haven’t even picked out a movie yet.”

Gary got up to get us our usual drinks, and Perry’s arm moved to the back of the couch, his fingers playing in my hair with the sort of casual, platonic affection I never thought I’d have. He was like that with Gary too, which had surprised me at first because I hadn’t known too many male gay-straight friends who were both comfortable with physical contact.

I still remembered a man I’d met at a Pride rally when I was a kid. Jerome. He’d been there with a straight friend of his who’d been sure to mention his own orientation at least a dozen times before the rally had even begun. I’d been fascinated by Jerome’s friend, unable to understand the need to declare his heterosexuality with such conviction and repetition.

Then, about ten minutes into things, Jerome had thrown his arm around his friend’s shoulders. It hadn’t been anything sexual. Even at ten years old, I’d been able to tell. But Jerome’s friend hadn’t appreciated it. He’d shoved Jerome into another group of people and sputtered out some sort of “you know I’m not queer” statement before stomping off.

The expression on Jerome’s face still broke my heart.

I knew that part of the reason I’d liked Gary and Perry from the first time I’d met them was that they were completely and utterly comfortable in both who they were and in their friendship. This past week, I’d learned that they’d grown up together in Tucson, best friends from their first meeting when they’d been assigned seats next to each other on the school bus. Their friendship had gotten them through Perry coming out in seventh grade and Gary telling his homophobic father and stepmother that he was going with Perry to NYU to major in interior design. They’d been there for each other when Kenneth Goulding had graffitied both of their lockers with the same slurs and when Macy Franks had turned down Gary asking her to junior prom.

I was sure there were dozens of other similar stories in their shared history, and each one had strengthened their friendship to the point where they could be one hundred percent themselves with each other. Perry’s dry humor and Gary’s flirtations. Perry’s odd love of curling – the sport, not hair – and Gary’s equally off-beat fascination with geology. They even alternated between straight and gay bars and clubs, neither one of them even slightly uncomfortable in either world.

“Is our romance boycott still in place?” Gary asked as he came back with three beers. “Because if it is, I’d like to make a request.”

“We’re not watchingLord of the Rings,” Perry said quickly.

“I don’t mind,” I put in. “I could use a little non-romantic fantasy.”

“Yes!” Gary fist-pumped as he shot Perry a triumphant grin.

Perry turned to me in horror. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”

I looked back and forth between the two. “Um…all right. What did I do?”

“We’re watching the director’s cuts, right?” Gary asked as he headed over to the rack of movies. “Silly question. Of course, that’s what we’re watching.”

“Did he just say ‘cuts?’” I asked, swallowing hard as realization hit. “As inplural?”

Perry pinched the bridge of his nose. “Gary has a slight obsession with all things Tolkien. He’s going to quote along with the entire movie. And that’s if we can get him to stop at one.”

“How can you stop withFellowship?” Gary practically glared at us, but humor was lurking behind the expression. “Not knowing what happened to Gandalf or if the others went after Sam and Frodo.”

“I’ve seen them before,” I said. “So, I already know what happens next.”

He shook his head. “You’re missing the principle of the matter.”

“I am?”

As Gary launched into an explanation of why the films should always be viewed back-to-back, Perry leaned over and put his mouth next to my ear.

“Just wait until he starts talking in Elvish.”

While not what I had in mind, at least I’d be distracted.

Three

Nate

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