Six Degrees of Lust (31 page)

Mac felt nauseated by the glaze he could see covering his mother’s

eyes. She was lost in her own world, a world where the O’Bannons

were powerful and ruled the world, and Mac was starting to think

she might get lost in it.

“You can’t blame Mother for having big dreams for you,

Mac.”

“Stay out of this,” he snapped at Amy. “I’m my own person,

Mother. I like what I do and I want to like who I am. I don’t care

for politics and I don’t belong here. I want to be in Houston, or

anywhere in this world where I can finally be myself.”

He looked at all three of them as they stood there staring at

him, and it was obvious they didn’t want to hear what he had to

say. But it was time, and too fucking bad if they didn’t like it. He

took a deep breath before he continued. “I’m not hiding who I

am any longer, Mother. We have a deal, remember? And the five

years I agreed to are almost up.”

“Stop it, Mac! You can’t possibly be serious about letting the

world know you’re gay and embarrassing all of us in the process!”

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He looked at Amy, white as a ghost after her outburst, and felt

like crying over her attitude. It was safe to say she had abandoned

him, and to have the one person he’d trusted with his secret all

those years ago bail on him hurt like a bitch, especially because

she knew how strongly he felt about being able to live out and

proud.

Her promise of literally holding his hand when he came out

to the world was clearly not good anymore, and Mac realized in

that moment that, when the time came, he might walk out of this

house completely alone. Mac swallowed the lump in his throat.

Despite having convinced himself he was ready to deal if he had

to part ways with them, he wasn’t sure how he’d feel about that.

Amy grabbed his arm, her big eyes pleading with him. “Don’t

you see you’re getting Mother upset?”

And Mother was definitely agitated, fussing with some books

on his father’s desk. Stepping up to her, Mac touched her lightly

on the shoulder then retrieved his hand when she flinched under

his touch.

“I’m happy you’re here now,” she said to him, and for a

moment he dared believe she’d accepted his decision, but his

hopes came crashing down when she opened her mouth again.

“We’ll go to church tomorrow.”

“I’m leaving as soon as I find Remy,” he announced, no

inflection whatsoever in his voice, then he turned towards Amy.

“I’ll stop by to see the twins on Monday.”

“I still can’t believe you brought your… close friend here,”

Amy said, biting her lips to stop herself from saying lover, Mac

guessed.

“We’ll have a good day amongst family and friends, and

tomorrow we’ll go to church and meet with the reverend after

the service,” his mother continued. “He’ll be able to talk you out

of all this nonsense.”

“Are you not a Baptist anymore?” Mac snarled. “Because

unless you’ve changed churches and now attend one where I’ll be

accepted the way God created me I’m never putting a foot in it.”

220 Taylor V. Donovan

“Do you want to go to Hell, Machlan?” His mother’s voice

was so low he could barely hear her. “Do you want to live in

disgrace? Force your family to live in shame?”

“I just want to be happy! Why can’t you accept who I am?”

“Homosexual is not who you are.” She made a dismissive

gesture with her hand. “That’s just a phase.”

“A phase…” Mac repeated, shaking his head a little and

looking at his father who, as usual, seemed completely at a loss.

He never knew how to stop or deal with what was happening

right in front of him. Scary personality trait, really, considering

he’d been the mayor of the city for only God knew how long.

“Do you agree with her?”

“Of course he does!” Mother said, not letting his father

express his opinion. Not that he would. Mac was convinced the

man had given up on arguing with Mother a long time ago, thus

leaving Mac to fend for himself. “Do you think your father wants

you to drag his name through the mud? To have you smear his

outstanding political career and achievements?” She straightened

up her back and looked at him in the eye. “I’m not letting you

destroy our good reputation.”

“We had a deal, Mother.”

“I miscalculated the time. I thought five years would be

enough to make you see there’s no place for homosexuality in

this family.”

“So you never intended to honor our agreement.”

“But of course not! Unlike you, I care about our family’s

name.”

“I’m gay, Mother, not a goddamn criminal.”

“You’re confused.”

“I like men. I told you this when I was in high school,” he said

between his teeth. “I have liked men my entire life and no church

or motherly psychological manipulation will change the fact that

I crave the freedom to be with whichever guy I choose to be!”

“I will not have you talk that way in my home. I will not stand

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here and listen while you say things that are obviously meant to

hurt me. What did I ever do to deserve this from you, Machlan?”

Once again it was all about Sheila O’Bannon, and nothing Mac

would say today was going to change her ways. “Travis is in town.

You ought to talk to him, get close again. He was your best friend

once, and there’s no reason why you can’t be again. It’ll be good

for you. He’s a respectful member of the community with a

lovely wife and a daughter and another child on the way and—”

“You seem to forget he’s also the guy who was fucking me all

through high school and college.”

Mac didn’t regret his words. Not one bit. Not even when his

mother slapped him so hard his eyes teared up.

“That was child’s play,” she said carefully. “He is no more gay

than you are.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way.”

He glanced at his dad, hoping the man would say something,

anything. But all he did was look at Mac with hurt in his eyes.

Whether it was for him or because of him, Mac didn’t know, and

he wasn’t sticking around to find out. After one last look around

the room he headed for the door.

“Think about what you’re doing Machlan, because you won’t

be welcome here until you’ve changed your mind.” His mother’s

firm voice only added insult to the injury. Didn’t the woman love

him? Even a little? Was it really that easy to let go of her son?

“That’s fine, because I don’t think I want to come back to this

place.”

“Think about it, Mac!” she repeated. “You’re young and have

so much potential. You’re financially solvent and have a good

pedigree. You could have a wonderful existence. If you listen to

me and forget about this foolishness you’ll get very far in life.”

“I am gettin’ far in life regardless of what you say, Mother,”

he told her before opening the door. “I just choose to go in my

own direction.”

What he least expected when he opened the door was to find

222 Taylor V. Donovan

himself face to face with Travis Malone. The color drained from

Mac’s face. That man was the last person he needed to see that

day.

“Mac! Hi! I didn’t know you were here.” But Travis didn’t

look surprised to see him. At all.

“Get out of my way.”

“Are you leaving so soon?”

“Get out of my way, I said.”

Mac didn’t wait. He just forcefully removed the smaller man

by shoving him against the wall and went outside to look for

Remy. He found him surrounded by women near the barbecue

pit, where he’d apparently taken over the grilling duties. His

friend was incapable of staying away from the kitchen for too

long, but as soon as he saw Mac he put the spatula down and ran

over to him.

“Cher, what’s going on? You look like death… Are you okay?”

“I just need to get out of here.”

“Let’s blow this stand, then.”

Mac didn’t bother to look back. Why would he, when he

knew his family cared so little about him? His last thought while

speeding away from the house was that he didn’t get to see his

father’s reaction to the birthday present he’d gotten for him, and

probably never would.

July 5, 2009

New Orleans

“There is nothin’ like the smells of home, cher, nothin’ in

da world like it. And dats da truth.” Remy patted Mac’s chest

for emphasis with his left hand, the other arm swung over his

shoulders as the two made their way down Bourbon Street.

“That’s it, buddy, no more alcohol for you. Home is Abbeville,

not New Orleans. We even stopped by your pop’s place yesterday,

remember?” Mac teased.

“But o’course I ’member. You don’t have to tell me where

I grew up. I ‘member…” Remy’s straight eyebrows furrowed a

little, as if he doubted the veracity of his own statement. He

shook his head and patted Mac once again, this time on the

stomach. “I gotta thank ya for agreeing to stop by his place, man.

It’d been a minute since I last saw my old man.”

“No problem.”

It had been a spur of the moment kind of thing to ask Remy

if he wanted to take a detour and go home before continuing

their road trip to New Orleans. His friend took him up on the

offer immediately and three hours after leaving Liberty Heights

Mac had driven into Remy’s hometown.

“It’s like a different universe out there,” he said to his friend.

“I love the solitude of the bayou,” Remy said, taking a deep

breath, “but N’awlins feels more like home. I came here when

I turned eighteen, did I ever tell ya that? Took a few classes at

Tulane and tended bar for three years before finally moving to

Houston.” He squeezed Mac’s shoulder and patted him on the

stomach yet again, his fingers lingering on the abdominal muscles

for several seconds. “Fuck man, ya sure are ripped.” Mac slowed

224 Taylor V. Donovan

down and glanced at his friend, trying to figure out what that was

all about. “Turning the trip to N’awlins into a boys weekend away

was the brilliant…est… the most brilliant idea you’ve had in…

like… a very long time, yeah.”

“I was looking forward to spending some time here. I’m sorry

we had to cut it almost two days short.”

But having limited time wasn’t going to stop Mac from

partying a little and trying to relax some. And he was still having

that heart to heart with his best friend they’d both agreed on a

couple of weeks ago.

They’d reached New Orleans a little after nine. Hotel check-in

and dumping their bags in the room took all of twenty minutes,

and they finally hit the town around ten-thirty that night. The

place was as wild as it’d been prior to Hurricane Katrina, with

hundreds of tourists set on leaving their problems behind and

having a good time.

They had a light dinner and, either subconsciously or

purposely, managed to avoid any serious conversation by hitting

every single bar on Bourbon Street. They enjoyed the people, the

ambiance, the music, and altogether greatness of the city, and

were both too drunk to talk when they returned to their hotel

after three in the morning.

They were out and about as early as ten the next day. Several

cups of very rich cafe-au-lait and some aspirin took care of the

hangovers, and after even more coffee and a few beignets each,

they were ready to go. Mac just wished there was some over the

counter pill he could take for the tension that was slowly creeping

in on them.

They spent the day walking around the French Quarter,

visiting areas damaged by Hurricane Katrina and going on rather

lame tours of haunted houses and cemeteries just for shits and

giggles. After stopping by their hotel to shower and change into

something a little dressier than cargo shorts and t-shirts, they

went to the opening of Remy’s friend’s Cajun seafood restaurant.

It turned out to be trendy and extremely pricey, but Mac wasn’t

impressed by the food. Obviously, getting fed by his friend slash

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225

best chef ever on a daily basis had spoiled him for life.

After an hour or so of schmoozing with Remy’s friend, they

decided it was time to return to the Quarter to enjoy the nightlife,

and, four Jagermeister shots each and who knew how many beers

later, they stumbled a little down Bourbon Street, not a care in

the world… or too many to count.

“You’re my best friend in da whole world you know that,

Macky boy?” Remy was well on his way to being truly drunk, his

Cajun accent getting stronger with every slur. Mac was far from

sober, but it took more than what they had consumed to get him

drunk.

“You’re mine too, man.” He looked down at Remy and smiled

when he saw his friend had his famous shit eating grin firmly in