First Time for Everything (15 page)

“I think so. Marybeth said Jamie is his counselor or something at school.”

The thought of seeing Cory dressed up excited him. He’d look like a young movie star on the red carpet at a world premiere. Then he remembered the old jeans and T-shirts inside his roller bag. “I can’t go.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have anything nice to wear.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of that.”

“Okay then, sure, I’ll go.”

A.J. took another bite of pizza and hoped he’d get to sit next to Cory. His dad went to the dining room. A.J. whipped his head in that direction when he heard his dad talking on the phone.

“Hey, Marybeth. A.J.’s gonna go with us to the reception on Friday. I’m gonna give him a few bucks. Would you mind taking him shopping tomorrow while I’m at the office…? No, Target will be fine…. For trousers and a shirt. A belt and shoes too. He can wear my dress socks…. What…? Are you sure…? Okay, babe…. Love you too,” he said and ended the call.

“Dad, I can go to Target by myself.”

“Marybeth squashed Target.”

“Why?”

“She’s got something different in mind.”

“What?”

“She wants to surprise you.”

A.J. picked pineapple off his pizza and popped it in his mouth. If her clothing adventure was anything like her aquarium surprise, he knew tomorrow was going to be sweet.

R
ODEO
D
RIVE
was not their destination. He stopped thinking he might spot Kevin Bacon or someone from
The Hunger Games
when Marybeth parked by a large warehouse in a bleak industrial district of North Hollywood.

She’d picked him up at his dad’s townhouse, and they’d cruised through sunny valleys on the 134 Freeway with the Beetle’s top down. As Marybeth talked, he’d listened and gazed at her every so often, amazed his dad was dating her. Unlike his mom, she was full of surprises. She’d floored him when she divulged that she was a wardrobe stylist for film and television productions and worked with Hollywood celebrities all the time. No wonder she dressed like a star. He was also stunned to learn Cory lived with her, not his parents. He was itching to ask why but held his tongue. He didn’t want her to think he was too nosey. She told him Cory’s counselor at school, Jamie, was one of her best friends. He’d coaxed Cory out of his shell and gotten him to join Yearbook Club—which Jamie advised—after Cory moved here last year from Texas. He’d helped get Cory the job working at a movie theater too. He wanted Cory to meet his older brother, who worked in publishing in New York and would be in town for the wedding. Right then, she’d peered at him over the top of her Ray-Bans. “By the way, Cory’s thrilled you’re going to the reception. Thank you for being a friend to him yesterday. It means a lot to me.”

Now, as she led him toward the warehouse, he couldn’t get her words out of his head. He could not wait to see Cory again.

They rounded the corner of the building. “This is where we got Cory’s outfit.”

He eyed the sign above the door. “Western Costume Company? Like for Halloween?”

“Yep, any character you’ve ever seen in a movie, they’ve got—
Darth Vader, Indiana Jones, the Cowardly Lion, Gandalf, Captain America, you name it. Cory’s wearing a replica of the suit Leonardo
DiCaprio wore in the big party scene of
The Great Gatsby
.”

“No way.” A.J. could see him now, so handsome in that suit. He imagined embracing him in a slow dance and feeling the fine fabric against his fingertips.

“What’s your favorite movie?” Marybeth asked.

“
Footloose
.”

“Original or remake?”

“Original.”

“Hmm, the prom scene had some fun tuxes. We’ll fashion you in formal wear inspired by the eighties but with stylish modern lines and tones. You’ll look smashing.”

“Okay, sure.”

He could hardly believe his good fortune. She was nothing like Bill. She made him feel like a celebrity. No wonder his dad had fallen for her.

They entered the spotless warehouse, and as she led him through a section containing rack after rack of men’s shirts, jackets, shoes, and hats, his excitement grew. The possibilities were endless—linen, silk, and wool in dressy blacks and whites, pale pastels, apple greens, corals, lavenders, and bold beautiful blues. He was thrilled she’d nixed the idea of taking him to Target. Here, he was sure to end up looking fantastic for Cory.

“Marybeth, honey!” An older woman with frizzy red hair approached them. She wore a colorful hippie dress and chunky turquoise beads around her neck. “Who’s the handsome fella?”

“Vera, this is Peter’s son, A.J.”

“I see the resemblance.” She shook his hand. “What can I do you for today?”

“A.J.’s going with us to Jamie’s wedding.”

“Ah, do we want another
Gatsby
suit?”

“No, think
Footloose
prom meets Public School’s spring collection.”

“Oh, now that’s hot!”

Vera shepherded them to a counter and pulled out measuring tapes and fabric swatches. A.J. stood still while Marybeth tested swatches against his face and hair. She arranged six different color groupings on a counter. “Which palette’s your favorite?”

“The blues.”

“Great choice, perfect for your coloring.”

While she wrote down notes on a pad, Vera took his measurements. “A.J., honey, you have to check out LA’s food truck scene. I did one at Venice Beach that blew my mind. It was called Keep on Food Truckin’. They blasted seventies guitar riffs and served food an old stoner like me could appreciate. I got Eagles fried chicken, Boston clam chowder, Fleetwood Mac and cheese, and, get this,
real
Doobie Brothers brownies. No shit. Space cakes right off the truck.”

He and Marybeth cracked up. She handed her notes to Vera, who looked them over and nodded. “We’ll have it ready Friday.”

“Do I need to try anything on?”

“Just shoes,” Marybeth said. “The tailor will take care of everything else.”

They said good-bye to Vera, and Marybeth led him to a selection of high-gloss dress leather Oxfords. He tried on elevens that fit perfectly.

“Well, I think we’re done here. You want me to take you to your dad’s? Or you feel like hanging at my house for a while?”

“Let’s go to your place,” he said, hoping Cory would be home.

W
HILE
M
ARYBETH
checked e-mail in her home office, A.J. marveled at the fact Cory practically lived in a palace. Marybeth’s house—a midcentury modern affair, as she called it—was a spectacular glass and metal structure that sat in the hills overlooking a sprawling valley kingdom. In the backyard, there was a sparkling lap pool, cozy hot tub, and three towering Mexican fan palms, all secluded by purple-flowered bougainvillea vines growing thick along a privacy fence. If Cory had been home, A.J. would have suggested they go swimming and then hoped they’d end up in the hot tub with their feet touching.

Marybeth returned and caught him staring at the pool. “You want to get in? You can wear one of Cory’s swimsuits.”

The thought of slipping into Cory’s trunks made his insides tingle. “Okay, sure.”

She showed him to the bathroom and brought him aqua board shorts and a colorful SeaWorld beach towel. He locked the door, took off his shoes and socks, and pulled off his T-shirt. As he stripped off his jeans, he eyed the board shorts, imagining them riding low on Cory’s waist and hugging the curve of his butt. Would Cory have a thin trail of hair like his own, leading down his belly to the waistband? Or would Cory have more body hair than he had? Enough on his chest to run your fingers through?

He reached for the board shorts, pressed them to his nose, and inhaled the clean fresh scent of mountain spring Tide. He fingered the insides. That fabric had clung to Cory like wet papier-mâché. His cock pressed hard against his briefs. He pulled them down and stepped out of them. He gazed at himself in the mirror, standing there naked and excited, and longed for Cory to be the kind of boy who could desire him. As he stepped into the shorts, he imagined Cory had just taken them off and given them to him to wear. He left his cock hanging out and felt the fabric hug his butt. He was itching to jerk off right there in Marybeth’s bathroom, desiring her nephew. He knew it would feel as amazing as when he used to fantasize about Dylan in Colorado. Instead, he crammed his hard-on into the shorts and tied the drawstring. He folded his clothes and laid them on the vanity. He wrapped the Shamu towel around his waist to hide his whale-sized excitement and poked his head out of the bathroom.

Marybeth was nowhere to be seen, so he dashed to the pool, tore off the towel, and dived in. Surfacing, he scissor-kicked and hoped forty laps of the sidestroke and front crawl would sidetrack his heart until he could crawl into bed. Tonight, he’d dream of being with Cory and take his time taking care of business.

A
S
HAD
happened in Colorado, work emergencies were gobbling up his dad’s vacation. He had to go into the office again that morning. A.J. took it in stride as he sat in the dining room alone in his underwear, eating a bowl of Chocolate Cheerios. He was simply glad to be out from under Bill’s thumb. He was about to flop on the couch with the remote and channel surf when the doorbell rang. He hurried to the door and looked through the peephole. Cory stood on the welcome mat holding a large box and plump white plastic bag. He glistened in hip new jeans and a fitted aqua polo shirt.

“Just a minute,” A.J. hollered. He scrambled upstairs to his bedroom, slipped on his least faded jeans, and hurriedly laid his best pocket T-shirt on the bed and smoothed out roller-bag wrinkles. He pulled the shirt over his head and glanced in the dresser mirror. Shit. Bed head. Hair mowed down here, branched out there, and sprouted like a weed on top. He darted across the hall to his dad’s bedroom, flung open the closet, and found a Colorado Rockies baseball cap. He slapped it on, raced back downstairs, and opened the door, trying to look collected.

“Hey, Cory.” He scanned the overgrown courtyard. “Where’s Marybeth?” he asked, hoping she wasn’t with him.

“Working. I was out shopping and thought I’d swing by and see if you were home.”

“Come in. Set your stuff down.”

“Actually, it’s all for you.” Cory went straight to the dining room and set things on the table.

A.J. saw the box’s label. “A fish tank.”

“And fish.” From the white plastic bag, Cory pulled a clear, water-filled baggie. Swimming inside were colorful mollies, tetras, and rainbowfish. “I know the tank’s not as big as the one you had in Colorado, but these guys will like it anyway.”

A.J. gazed at the fragile little world floating in his gentle grip. He couldn’t believe the boy could be so thoughtful.

“Can I help you set it up?” Cory asked.

“Of course.”

“Where do you want to put it?”

“In my bedroom.”

They took the box and fish upstairs. As Cory unpacked the tank and A.J. put together the filter, Cory talked about Jamie’s wedding reception. “He’s seating us yearbook people at our own table. Stacy Morrison’s gonna sit by you. I told her about us going to the aquarium. I think you guys will hit it off.”

A.J. didn’t want to sit by Stacy Morrison. “You trying to play matchmaker?”

“Maybe.” Cory poured colorful rocks into the tank. “Unless you have a girlfriend in Bagdad.”

“I don’t.”

“Why not?”

Not about to reveal the truth, A.J. shrugged and fumbled with the filter. “If Stacy’s so cool, why aren’t
you
dating her?”

“We’re not into each other.”

Their gazes met, and A.J. saw it again. A dozen boy-meets-girl movie scenes flashed in his head. It
was
that look. But then Cory blinked and turned his attention to the heap he’d poured into the tank. Emboldened, A.J. stepped closer to him and secured the filter as Cory spread the colorful rocks along the tank’s bottom. When their arms brushed, he felt warmth radiating from Cory’s skin and was suddenly doubly grateful for the unfortunate circumstances that had brought them together.

“Cory, why’d you move to California? Marybeth told me you used to live in Texas.”

“Yep, outside Ft. Worth.” He stepped back, looking serious, and surveyed the rocks he’d leveled. “It turned awful there once I got to high school. I was like a lone porpoise in a tank full of vicious tiger sharks. They circled me all the time, and if I let down my guard, they attacked. The last time they bloodied me so bad they put me in the hospital. That’s when Marybeth came out from California and rescued me.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry.”

“Jamie says I should tell people if they ask, but I still kinda hate talking about it.” He shifted his stance, carefully picking up the baggie of fish. “I think the tank’s ready to fill.”

“I’ll get a bucket.”

A.J. left the room and straggled around upstairs, feeling as though he too had been bashed.
Attacked
.
Bloodied
.
In the hospital
. It sickened him that Cory had suffered such cruelty. He found a bucket in his dad’s bathroom, and as he filled it with water, he felt himself filling with guilt. He’d been standoffish toward Cory at the airport and during the long ride to Long Beach, and he’d snapped hard at him outside the aquarium. He had to apologize. He sloshed water onto the carpet as he lugged the heavy bucket to his bedroom. “I’m sorry I was a jerk before we had lunch yesterday.”

“Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t friendly either. I honestly thought you were going to be like the rednecks in Texas, with you working on a horse ranch and all.”

“Seriously?”

“I know you’re nothing like those guys. I was being stupid.”

“No, you weren’t…. You were being cautious.”

“I guess you’re right.”

A.J. hefted the bucket and poured water into the tank. Cory handed him the baggie.

“I’ll release them after the filter conditions the water,” A.J. said.