All About Yves (4 page)
Yves laughed. “I'd just graduated from high school,” he said. “Let's just say they weren't thrilled their son was a fairy, and they weren't shy about telling me so. It was June. My father called his pastor and arranged for me to be sent to one of those places where they try to make gay men straight again. It was like a camp."
Marco sat back and shook his head. He'd heard about these places, and he'd always wondered about the type of person who went there. He never thought he'd actually meet one.
Molly blinked.
"What did you do there?” Jasper asked. “What was it like?"
"It must have been a nightmare,” Molly said. “You poor boy."
"I learned how to play by their rules,” Yves said. “I knew it was a waste of time. I'm gay and I'll always be gay. But I also knew if I didn't do what they wanted me to do, I'd never get out. It was like being in prison and doing time. So I spent the entire summer there and pretended to be straight. I was good, too. They truly believed they'd converted me. I even dated women to prove I'd changed. By the time I left, they thought I was ready to marry a nice girl and start a family. But the only thing I cared about was going back home and seeing my boyfriend again. I would have done anything for him."
"The football player,” Molly said. “What happened to him? Was he there waiting for you when you went back home? Did you two get back together?"
Marco rolled his eyes. He knew how much Molly loved a happy ending.
Yves sighed and stared down at his lap. He spoke softly, with slow pauses between disconnected sentences. “When I went home, I found out my boyfriend was engaged to be married. I tried to see him. I tried to talk to him. But he just ignored me. He actually pretended I was crazy and nothing had ever happened between us. When I finally cornered him and challenged him one night, he beat me up and left me in such bad shape I spent two months in the hospital recovering. I never told anyone who did it and I never pressed charges against him. I was so devastated I just wanted to forget him completely.” He lifted his arms and shrugged his shoulders. “When I got out of the hospital, I decided to move to New York. If it hadn't been for you, Mr. Denny, and all the hope and inspiration you've given me all my life, I don't know how I would have survived. There were times when just looking at your photos kept me from taking a bottle of pills."
Molly pulled a tissue out of her handbag and wiped the corner of her eye. Jasper and Frazier just sat there staring at him shaking their heads in amazement. Marco took a deep breath and wondered how the poor guy had survived all that. He'd always taken for granted he'd been so lucky in life to be able to do all the things he'd ever wanted to do.
"That's one helluva story. All you needed was Anita Bryant to hit you over the head with a hammer, kid,” Jane Francis said. She wasn't trying to be mean, but it sounded sarcastic, as if she didn't believe his story.
"
Jane
Francis
,” Marco said. He turned to face her, shaking his head. “There are some things in the gay community that are still happening. Even though we've come very far, there are still young gay men and women out there being treated as if there is something wrong with them and they don't have the options gay men like me have always had. I find it appalling when people
don't
think these things can still happen to gay people."
Then he turned to Yves and said, “I have to apologize for my associate. She doesn't understand certain realities in life. She spends a great deal of her time reading carefree gay novels that focus more on meaty nuts and other cliches than real issues, and she thinks everything in the gay community is just perfect..."
But Jane Francis cut Marco off. “Hold on,” she said. “You don't have to apologize for me, buddy.” Jane Francis stepped around Marco and walked over to where Yves was sitting. She wiped a tear from her eye, then placed her palm on his shoulder and said, “I'm sorry if I sounded a little rough, kid. It's just the way I am. I didn't mean anything by it."
"I know you didn't,” Yves said, reaching for Jane Francis's hand. He looked up at her and smiled. “I'm okay, Ms. Francis."
"You can call me
Jane
Francis
."
He nodded and squeezed her hand.
Jane Francis smiled at him and patted his hand, then turned to Marco and said, “I read all kinds of LGBT fiction, not just carefree gay novels about meaty nuts. I've even read
The Front Runner
, and you know it.” Then she put her hands on her hips and stormed back into the bathroom, slamming the door even harder this time.
A second after that, while Marco was still laughing at Jane Francis's outburst, Frazier's cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his suit jacket and opened it to see who was calling. He listened for a moment, answered a few yes and no questions, then closed the phone. When he put it back into his pocket, he frowned at Marco and said, “I have to leave for Atlanta tonight. There's a problem with the new line and I have to be there to make sure everything is right."
Marco rolled his eyes and took a deep breath. He knew Frazier was talking about a new line of menswear they were selling on the Home Value Network. Home Value was the largest home shopping television venue in the world, and the company had secured a deal with them to sell their new line of menswear. Due to the fact Marco was already committed to doing the TV reality show, he wasn't part of the deal yet. But he knew once the show was over, he'd be modeling Frazier's new line on television. The people at Home Value wanted both Frazier and Marco to actually help sell the line on the air. Though all the designers were doing this nowadays, Marco couldn't help thinking there was something demeaning about it. It made him wonder where his career as a model was going. But more than that: where his life was going.
"Can't someone else deal with it until tomorrow?” Marco said. “We're supposed to be celebrating tonight. It's not every day I win the Rendell Vista award.” Normally, Marco wouldn't have made such a big thing out of winning an award. But he couldn't stop worrying about the fact that he was aging and he'd reached his peak as a model. This might be the last time he'd ever receive something as important as the Rendell Vista.
Frazier stood up and shook his head. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I can't help it. I have to be there. It's important. This is a huge deal and I want it to be perfect.” He put his arms around Marco and kissed the top of his head. “I'll make it up to you when I get home. I promise."
Marco took a deep breath and sighed. This wasn't something new. They had been together long enough for Marco to know and understand their intense, competitive business was demanding and it often controlled their lives. There had been times when Marco had to cancel personal plans with Frazier because of his work schedule, so he couldn't get mad at him for doing the same thing.
"I'm fine,” Marco said. “I understand.” He turned to Molly and Jasper and said, “Do you guys mind if we go to dinner another time?” He didn't feel like going out to celebrate without Frazier. It wouldn't have been the same. He often went to business events alone, but he rarely socialized without his partner.
Molly shrugged her shoulders and turned to Jasper. She forced a smile and said, “No, we understand.” Then she stood up. “We'll do it sometime next week. We'll take Frazier to the airport and grab something to eat on the way back."
Marco stood up and hugged Molly and Jasper. He was still in his robe. “Call me tomorrow,” he said to Molly.
"I will,” she said, giving him a strong hug.
Then Frazier looked into Marco's eyes. When Molly stepped back, he put his arms around Marco's waist and rested his palms on Marco's ass. Marco sank into his chest. He put his arms around Frazier's shoulders and closed his eyes. When he arched his back, he pressed his lips to Frazier's.
While they kissed goodbye, Frazier squeezed his ass so hard the robe rode up his legs and exposed his black underwear in front of everyone. When Marco was in Frazier's arms, there was no one else on the planet and he didn't care who was watching. He loved him just as much now as he'd loved him the first day they'd met. Frazier's masculine baseball-player body still made his knees weak. He thought his receding hairline was masculine and sexy. Frazier had a slight paunch, but Marco loved to kiss it. But more than that, Frazier's thick penis still made him want to fall on his knees and submit completely. This strong wonderful man was the love of his life, and he never took it for granted.
Yves was standing behind Marco. He looked to the side and stared up the ceiling with an uncomfortable expression.
Molly laughed. “Don't mind them, Yves. These two lovebirds have been doing this sort of thing in front of us for years. We're used to it."
Marco stopped kissing and adjusted his robe. Frazier's right hand was still on his ass. “I have to kiss my man goodbye properly,” he said. “Sorry if I embarrassed you, Yves."
"I think it's wonderful to see a gay couple so much in love,” he said. “I only wish I can find someone to love just as much one day. Don't be sorry."
Macro turned fast and smiled. “I have an idea. What are your plans, Yves?"
"Nothing.” He shrugged.
"Then why don't we go out for a cup of coffee and a quick bite?” Marco said. “We can talk and I can get to know you better."
"I'd love that,” Yves said, staring at Marco with wide eyes. “I'd be honored."
"It will be an early night,” Marco said. “I'm tired. But I'd like to get to know you better.” He purposely said he was tired because he didn't want Molly and Jasper thinking he'd blown them off. He just didn't feel like going out to an expensive restaurant with another couple and being the third wheel. At least with Yves, he wouldn't be alone and he wouldn't feel awkward.
Frazier looked at his watch and frowned. “We have to go now,” he said. “I still have to call the pilot from the car.” They had a private company jet in Teterboro airport, just across the river in New Jersey. It was always on standby.
"Have a good flight,” Marco said. “And don't pay attention to any good-looking young guys while you're down there.” Marco had a jealous streak, because he knew good-looking young guys were always flirting with Frazier, especially the young blond guys.
"You don't have to worry about that,” Frazier said. “I already have the best right here."
Marco kissed Frazier goodbye one last time, then all three of them left for the airport. When they were gone, Marco told Yves to sit down and wait, and he went into the bathroom to get dressed. He was looking forward to getting to know more about Yves. Though they were complete strangers, for the first time in a long time Marco felt as if he'd met someone who was going to become a very good friend.
Marco and Yves went to a small cafe in the Village that was dark and quiet. It was one of those long narrow places, where the tables were slightly hidden with potted palms and statues. The owner knew Marco as a regular customer, and he always gave him the most private table in the house. It was next to the kitchen where no one else wanted to sit, nestled into a dark little alcove so his back faced everyone else. When Marco wasn't working, he preferred to remain as anonymous as possible.
He wore a simple black leather jacket, with faded jeans and a black V-neck sweater. He'd learned early how to dress if he wanted to blend in with the crowd. If he kept his hands in his pockets and stared at the sidewalk, he could almost pass as a civilian. That's what he called people who weren't models or entertainers. They were all civilians, and sometimes it felt as if they all wanted a piece of him.
Marco's private car dropped them off in front of the restaurant. It wasn't a long stretch limo or a big white pretentious affair. Marco's car was a dark Lincoln Town Car that looked like all the other airport limos in the city, which only helped his anonymity. They entered the restaurant without any problems, but as a waiter led them to their table someone at the bar recognized Marco and asked for his autograph. The middle-aged guy stood up and grabbed Marco's sleeve so fast the zipper on Marco's jacket opened. Marco smiled and signed a cocktail napkin. He never turned down fans, no matter how tired he was or how rude they were.
But when tried to walk away, this particular fan didn't let go of his sleeve. He continued to ask Marco annoying questions about the TV show, until Yves stepped between them and said, “Mr. Denny has to go back to his table now. He's had a long day and he hasn't eaten.” Then Yves reached for the man's hand and pulled it away from Marco's sleeve.
Marco's head went back and his eyebrows arched.
The fan stopped talking and looked up at Yves. Yves was tall and solid. His voice was deep and he spoke as if he were giving commands to recruits in basic training. When the fan saw the serious expression on Yves's face, he stepped back, thanked Marco for the autograph, and went back to his bar stool.
When they were seated, Marco smiled and said, “Well done, Yves. I thought I'd have to stand there the rest of the night and talk to that guy."
Yves placed his napkin on his lap. “He was very rude, Mr. Denny. And you're too nice. People like that will take what they can and leave you drained."
Marco shrugged. “Trust me,” he said. “That was nothing. I've experienced much worse, I promise. At least there weren't any photographers or tabloid reporters following us tonight. You never know when
they're
going to show up."
After that, they ordered dinner and talked about Yves. Marco was curious about him. He seemed so strong and capable, yet there was something missing. A nice-looking young man his age should have been concentrating on his own career instead of following Marco around. He should have been with his own friends, working on his own life, instead of sitting in a dark restaurant with an aging male model who was already in a monogamous relationship with another man.
Yves gave all his questions with quick, simple answers. Yves looked Marco in the eye and he didn't waver or hesitate once. Marco was amazed at how uncomplicated he was. Yves didn't bother with his family at all, he was still too new in town to have established any real friendships, and he wasn't sure what he wanted to do with his life yet. The poor guy hadn't even rented a real apartment. He was living in a small rundown hotel in the East Village, trying to save up enough money to make the initial down payment on a one-room studio.