The Other Side of Someday (18 page)

“Have a good night.” I took a step back from him.

Nodding, he looked at me for a split second longer, then turned and opened the door, heading toward his condo. I leaned against the doorjamb, watching him walk away from me.

“Sebby, wait!”

He spun around and faced me.

“All that stuff I said earlier about opposites…” I fidgeted with my hands. “I didn’t mean anything by it. If you’re happy…”

He looked down.

I took purposeful steps down the hall, approaching him. “Sebby,
are
you happy?”

He tilted his head back, our gaze meeting. I could see the indecision in those stormy eyes. I waited for what seemed like hours for him to finally answer my simple question. Then he let out a long breath, shaking his head.

“Yes. I am.”

Liar
, I thought.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTEEN

M
Y
PHONE
BUZZED
W
EDNESDAY
night as I was lounging on my couch eating a bowl of ice cream, snuggled next to Sport. Apart from my usual morning walks and coffee with Sebby, I hadn’t left my condo much. Inspiration had finally seeped its way into my brain and I didn’t want to lose my momentum. I had been searching for my story for years when I didn’t have to look too far. The old adage that you write what you know turned out to be true. I was writing my story, more or less, with some changes and embellishments. I didn’t know how it would end yet, but I knew that would all come in time.

Sebby kept asking to see what I had written, but I didn’t want to let anyone read it until I had a better grasp on the story. I was just writing whatever came to mind, not knowing where it would all fit, and that was okay for now.

Convinced that the only person who would be looking for me tonight was most likely Sebby, I ignored my phone, devoting my full attention to the two men in my life who had never let me down…Ben and Jerry.

My phone stopped buzzing, then instantly began again. Groaning, I looked at the screen and saw Marcel’s dapper and brilliant face beaming back at me. If I didn’t answer, a search party would be sent to my condo.

“You’re interrupting my threesome,” I answered.

“Oh boy, Miss Dixie!” he bellowed over the background noise of wherever he was. I could hear voices shouting over some crappy techno remix, so I could only assume he was at a club. “I expect full details!”

“Don’t get too excited,” I replied. “It’s the usual suspects. Ben and Jerry are the only men in my life who know exactly what I need when I need it.”

“Speaking of men in your life, I’m sleuthing.”

“Sleuthing? What do you mean?”

“Well, when you told me about the fallout between you and Dennis, I refused to believe I was wrong. I mean, there are times when it could go either way, but Dennis certainly doesn’t.”

“What did you do?” I asked cautiously. By the tone in his voice, I knew he was up to something.

“Don’t get mad, but I may have tracked down where he lives.”

“You what?!” I couldn’t believe my ears. Why would he do such a thing? What if he got caught? Would Dennis think I put him up to it?

“It wasn’t that hard,” he insisted. “Hell, he ended up contacting the design company I work for to get a consult. Initially, he asked for me, but I didn’t think I could take him on as a client. Anyway, I went through our system and got his address. When I got there, he was leaving with another guy.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. He has a roommate.”

“But this guy picked him up. They went to a romantic little Italian restaurant in Hollywood, and now they’re at a swanky martini bar, which just so happens to be where I am at the moment, too.”

“That still doesn’t prove anything.”

“Dixie, stop fighting me on this. If you want to see for your own eyes that Dennis lied to you, get off your butt, put on a hot dress, and come to the address I’m about to text you. Drinks are on me.” He hung up before I could even respond.

I remained on my couch, unmoving, staring at the laptop in front of me. Minutes passed as I tried to refocus my energy into writing. I read my words over and over, not really comprehending them. My thoughts kept shifting to Marcel and what proof he had that Dennis was gay.

“Well, since I’m now officially blocked, I may as well go,” I huffed, throwing my legs off the side of the couch. If nothing else, this invitation would get me out of my condo for a while. I was beginning to feel like a hermit, spending the past few days in front of my laptop, typing away. After fixing my appearance and throwing on a slinky green dress and leopard print heels, I was on my way to the address Marcel had texted me.

I pulled up to a brick building off Sunset a short while later, the sound of drunken frivolity greeting me once I entered the darkened club. Behind the bar was an extravagant water feature, rain-like streams cascading over a stone backdrop. Bartenders demonstrated their skills as they prepared brightly-colored drinks in martini glasses, a perfectly orchestrated symphony of alcohol and more alcohol with a floater of alcohol for good measure.

As I made my way through the crowd, I spied Dennis at the opposite end of the bar and I looked down, trying to hide myself. Running into him hadn’t crossed my mind, even though I knew he’d be here. I would have been lying if I said I wasn’t hopeful Marcel was right. It would at least make me feel better about how things ended between us. I wasn’t immature to the point that I wanted to rub his lies in his face, but I was hoping for some sort of vindication if he, in fact, did lie and made me look like a complete fool.

“Whoa, hot stuff!” Marcel draped his arm around me and pulled me toward the bar, taking me by surprise. “You clean up good!” He continued moving his hips, not even missing a beat. He had this energy and liveliness that could only be described as being akin to a kid rushing down the stairs Christmas morning to see that Santa had come the night before. He didn’t have an off switch, and you couldn’t help but feel an added boost of energy whenever you were in his presence. Who needs caffeine when you have a friend like Marcel around?

“You’ve seen me in a dress before,” I shouted over the music.

“I know, but this is a quick turnaround from you wearing an oversized t-shirt and yoga pants less than an hour ago.”

I scowled, placing my hands on my hips.

“I know these things.” He winked. “Now, what do you want to drink?”

“Manhattan, please. Up.”

“Hitting it hard. My kind of girl.”

Marcel signaled the bartender, a tall, lean man with dark hair and soft, creamy skin. He was probably in his late twenties or early thirties, although he didn’t look a day over twenty-one.

“What can I get you?” he asked, his attention devoted to Marcel, who rattled off our drink order, leaning closer than necessary to our bartender. Once he left to make our drinks, I elbowed Marcel in the side.

“What was that for?”

“Is this a gay bar?” I hissed under my breath.

He placed his hands on his hips. “Just because I’m here and flirting with the bartender, you think it’s a gay bar?”

“Apparently, based on recent experience, I can never be too sure about these things.”

When the bartender returned with our drinks, Marcel paid him, throwing a generous tip down on the counter. “Relax, sweetie. It’s not a gay bar.”

“Then why were you hitting on the bartender?” I asked, taking a much-needed sip of my Manhattan.

“Like I said, Dixie.” He wrapped his arm around me, ushering me away from the bar and toward an empty booth in a dark corner where we could observe the dance floor and not be spotted. “When it comes to knowing who’s gay and who’s not, I just know.”

Rolling my eyes, I slid into the booth. “Like with Dennis? You messed that one up pretty good.”

“Did I?” He nodded toward the dance floor. My eyes followed his line of sight, landing on tall, dark, and muscular Dennis dancing to an upbeat song with a shorter blond man.

I had seen men dancing together before, but usually only when they were drunk as they slurred the words to “Sweet Home, Alabama” or something, their arms draped over each other’s shoulders. I wasn’t even sure you could consider swaying and stumbling over your own feet dancing, but that was what I had witnessed during my wedding at the glamorous VFW Hall and any other social event I had been to with Will. But as my eyes lingered on Dennis and his dance partner, I knew this wasn’t simply a friendly dance between two men. This was something different, something bigger, something much more…intimate.

Their eyes were glued to each other. The connection was so strong, I had a feeling even an earthquake couldn’t break it. Dennis’ hips moved in a sensual way, his body nearly touching his partner’s. The way their two bodies moved together was almost erotic, like they were each other’s perfect match.

The music grew to a climax and, as if scripted, Dennis grabbed his partner’s neck and pulled, ensnaring him in his arms. Giving me further confirmation, he crushed his lips passionately to his partner’s, their kiss eliminating any doubt left in my mind.

I bolted up from the booth, my eyes glued to Dennis and the kiss that seemed to last forever. I didn’t know what I thought I would do. Confront him? Why? He lied to me. So what? Maybe he had a good reason. What would it solve if I did confront him with his lie? Most likely nothing. Would I ruin his chance at happiness? I couldn’t live with that on my conscience.

Unclenching my fists, I took a deep breath and lowered myself back to the booth. “Well, looks like you were right,” I said to Marcel.

“I told you, Dixie,” he replied. “I just know these things.”

“I still don’t understand why he wouldn’t just admit it.”

Marcel shrugged. “I can understand, I guess. I remember being afraid of people finding out who I truly was, but then I finally stopped caring. When I told my parents, you want to know what they said?”

“What?” I asked, sipping my drink.

“My Dad goes to me, ‘Tell me something I didn’t know.’ My entire family knew I was gay.”

“And they didn’t say anything?”

“No. They figured I’d tell them when I was ready. Even after I told them, it took me a while to be open with my friends and co-workers. It doesn’t matter how far we’ve come as a nation in support of gay people. There are still a lot of close-minded people out there.”

“Tell me about it,” I agreed, rolling my eyes. “I used to live in a town full of them.”

“So maybe there’s something going on in Dennis’ life that is still scaring him so much, he wanted to be able to go into work on a Monday morning or pick up the phone at night and tell people how he met a beautiful girl and have the proof to back it up. Hell, he may have even taken you somewhere knowing he’d run into someone and could prove he wasn’t who they all assumed he was.” He narrowed his eyes at me.

“The farmer’s market,” I mumbled as I recalled Dennis excusing himself and talking to someone he knew. The exchange seemed cordial and almost professional in nature.

“I’ve been there and have done the exact same things. Eventually, he’ll get sick of constantly pretending to be someone he’s not and he’ll finally be brave enough to show everyone who he truly is. Until then, I wish him all the luck in living the double life he’s made for himself.”

He raised his glass and I followed, downing the remainder of my drink.

“Like Dennis really matters anyway,” Marcel continued, lightening the mood. “From where I’m sitting, it looks like you’ve got your sights set on someone else.” He raised his eyebrows at me, a lascivious smile crossing his face.

“What are you talking about?” I feigned ignorance. I knew all too well about whom he was speaking.

“You can play that innocent card with everyone else, but not me. I know you and Sebby have been spending quite a bit of time together lately.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re looking for something that isn’t there, Marcel,” I replied. “We’re neighbors. We get along. We have a lot in common. It’s only natural for us to spend some time together.”

“Mmm-hmm.” He pinched his lips together. “Then why did he cancel the trip he was supposed to take to New York on Saturday?”

“What?”

“You heard me, Dixie. Your darling neighbor, Sebastion, was supposed to be heading to New York City for the next month to see his girlfriend and family, as well as promote his new film. Then, out of the blue, he canceled the trip and, from what Sophia told me, had the studio rearrange his schedule so he could promote it from the West Coast instead.”

My jaw dropped as I tried to think of what that could all mean. He wouldn’t have changed his plans just to spend time with me. There had to be another reason.

“It’s not because of me,” I insisted.

“Mmm-hmm,” Marcel repeated. “Whatever you say.”

“We’re just friends. He has a girlfriend—”

“Whom he never sees.”

“That doesn’t matter. I’ve been cheated on. I don’t care whether you know the relationship is doomed to fail or not—”

“So you think Sebby’s relationship is doomed to fail?” he interrupted.

“I didn’t say that!” My voice grew irritated. “What I meant to say is that, regardless of the status of the relationship, I refuse to come between them.”

“Even if he’s not happy?” Marcel pushed.

“His happiness isn’t at issue here.”

“It’s not?” He tapped his glass. I felt like I was in a sparse interrogation room, the police officer tripping me up with each question.

“Of course, I want him to be happy. Like I said, I’ve been cheated on, Marcel. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t in love with Will anymore, if I ever truly was. It still hurt that he cheated on me. I could never hurt anyone else like that, regardless of whether I know them or not.”

“Just take Mercedes out of the picture for a minute. What if he decided to end it with her? Then what would you think?”

“I…” I stopped short. I hadn’t given much thought to that scenario because it wasn’t reality. Still, there was something refreshing and familiar about being with Sebby, knowing there was no hidden agenda. We were just two friends hanging out. I had the horrible fear that if he were to break up with Mercedes to pursue something with me and it didn’t work out, it would end our friendship. I shuddered at the thought.