T.J. Klune - Bear, Otter, and the Kid 2 - Who We Are (32 page)

“And then one day, Robert Redford and Beyoncé will have babies, and I’ll sell them in a box on the side of the road because Duke says we don’t have enough room at the ostrich farm, and I’ll be sad, but I’ll understand, and I’ll make sure each one gets a good home because, dammit, it’s what Robert Redford and Beyoncé would want!”

Otter and the Kid are both staring at me. “What the hell are you talking about?” Otter frowns.

The Kid sighs. “I worry about you sometimes, Papa Bear.” “What did you want?” I growl at Otter.
He looks at me, and his eyes go wide and he smiles that crooked smile. “Good,” the Kid says encouragingly. “Keep it just like that.”

“Some friends of mine want to go out to a bar in Portland this weekend. They asked if we wanted to go,” Otter says, still smiling. It’s a little creepy now.

I frown. “That’s not a big deal. As long as Mrs. Paquinn can watch the Kid, and as long as Tyson is okay with it, I don’t see what the problem is.”

“It’s a gay bar.”
“Oh,” I say. “Uh… you can go.” Even though I don’t mean that at all.

He looks at me knowingly. “The invite was for the both of us. My friends want to meet you, I haven’t hung out with them in forever, and we can both use a night off.”

“Would either of you be going in drag?” the Kid asks. “I was researching gay history and I’m quite taken with drag queens. They have cool hats and stage names. I found a drag queen name generator online, and my drag name is Minerva Fox. I would probably sing a lot of Barbra.”

“Who’s Barbra?” I ask him, glancing at Otter. Otter looks as baffled as I do.

He shrugs. “All the pictures I saw said that drag queens sang Barbra. I don’t even know what that means.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask, but
why
were you researching gay history?”

He stares at me like I’m stupid. “You’re gay.”

“I’m not….” I stop myself before that old argument comes up again. I’ll just keep telling myself I don’t like labels. Maybe one day I’ll even believe it. “Look, I don’t think I would be comfortable there.”

“How would you know unless you tried?” the Kid says wisely. “Yeah, how would you know?” Otter echoes, sounding less wise. “Look, maybe next time, you know? I don’t think it’s a good idea. What

with the whole custody thing going on. And stuff.”
“Already on it,” Tyson says, dialing into his cell phone. “Erica? Hi! It’s
me! Minerva Fox! What? No. It’s Tyson. Tyson McKenna? Minerva’s my
stage name. Yeah, everything is fine. What? Oh, school is okay, I guess. It’s

still a little easy, but I didn’t call to brag. No. No. Hey, is it okay if Bear goes to a gay bar? A
gay bar
! Yeah, with other gays. It won’t hurt his chances of getting custody of me? A what? A back room? What’s that? Why not? Okay. Okay. Thanks! Bye.”

He grins at me from my position at the table where Otter’s holding me back. “She says you can go as long as you don’t end up in a seedy back room on your knees. What’s that mean?”

“It’s where they play illegal poker,” Otter says with a straight face.

“Oh,” the Kid says. “Well, I guess that makes sense. I don’t know why Erica wouldn’t tell me what it was. But why would you be playing poker on your knees? Wouldn’t you just sit in a chair?”

“It adds to the mystery and excitement,” I tell him.
“That doesn’t sound like a real thing at all,” the Kid mutters.

“So I’ll call and tell them we’re going?” Otter asks me, his eyes flashing.

 

“There’s no way in hell I’m going to a gay bar.” I scowl at him. “And that’s final.”
7. Where Bear Goes to a Gay Bar
Y
EAH
. So
that’s
happening.
“D
O YOU
even know what you’d wear?” Anna asks me the next day. “You
don’t really have… clubbing clothes.” She looks at me disdainfully, as if my wardrobe is something cognizant and will bite her face off.

“And you really do need to go all out, especially if it’s your first time going,” Isaiah points out even as Anna shoots him a dirty look. “What bar are you going to?”

We’re sitting at a metal picnic table waiting for our psych class to start. Isaiah had sat down without being invited, and Anna clearly is not in an invitation kind of mood. Isaiah doesn’t seem to mind. I don’t, either. He seems to be okay, especially when he’s not pressing me up against walls or kissing me. I’m sure Otter will just love that he’s sitting on my side of the table even though there’s more room on the other side. I know Anna sure does.

“PDXers,” I tell him. “Sounds… neat.”

“That place is huge!” Isaiah says, laughing. “You’ll have fun, I’m sure. Hell, maybe I’ll even see you up there.” He gives me an appreciative leer that I don’t quite know what to do with. So I just stare.

“Yes,” Anna says, her voice hard. “Maybe I want to go too, just so I can see what happens when Isaiah meets Otter for the first time. I wonder how that would go.”

Isaiah waves his hand in an easy dismissal. “Walrus will love me,” he says, pretending to pick a hair off my shirtsleeve, but really just rubbing my arm with his finger, a long slow stroke. I pull it away. “He’ll probably end up angling for a threesome. Then I’ll have to get my animal name so I can be a part of the group. So Native American of you white boys. I’ll probably go for something like Falcon. Or Wolf.”

“Jackass suits you better,” Anna intones. “The noble donkey. And you’re white too. Pale and pasty white. Rather sickly looking if you ask me. Do you do drugs? You look like you do drugs.”

“I’m going to win you over,” he tells her with a laugh. “One day, you’re going to say my name without an ounce of contempt.”

 

“I highly doubt that.”

“We’re not going to have a three-way with you,” I tell him, even though my dick thinks it’s a fantastic idea. Hormones that move independently of the brain are the bane of my existence.

Right. Hormones,
it chuckles.
That must be it. I almost believed you.
“Maybe a two-way, then, huh?” he grins. “You and me, and then me and Walrus. I don’t mind going twice.”

This causes me to see red for a moment, and I have to grip the table before I grab him on the back of his head and smash his stupid face down on the stupid table to get him to shut his stupid fucking mouth. My jaw starts to ache from how tightly I’ve got it clenched, and holding onto the table is almost not enough to stop me.

Anna sounds pleased when she says, “You see that look on his face, Jackass? That’s the face Bear makes when he thinks about anyone touching Otter but him. Otter makes the same face about Bear. So, please. Go on. I
dare
you.”

He cocks his head while studying me. “Looks more like a Care Bear to me than a Grizzly,” he finally says. “But I hear you loud and clear. Hands off in front of Walrus.”

“Hands off
all
the time,” I remind him.

He plays offended. “You act like I have some disease that you’re going to catch.” He pauses and then looks at Anna. “I may not have thought what I just said through, and I hope you’re woman enough to take the high road.”

She shrugs. “Doesn’t bother me in the slightest. You look like you’re diseased.”

 

Isaiah sighs and looks at me. “Are you going to let her talk to me like that? It would be nice to have someone here to protect my virtue.”

I roll my eyes. “Something tells me your virtue is no longer a problem.” He sniffs delicately. “Well, I never! And here I was, going to be all nice and let you borrow some of my clothes for your Grand Gay Adventure. I think I have some stuff that would fit you that I used to wear before I got all buff and hot. You’ll look so fucking gorgeous Walrus won’t know what hit him.”

“And I suppose you want Bear to come over to your house to try clothes on in front of you?” Anna says dryly. “Subtle, Jackass. Real subtle.”

He grins and it’s wolfish. Maybe Wolf isn’t such a bad name for him after all. If you were into that sort of thing. Which I’m not. “Subtlety is not exactly within my nature. What’s the point of dancing around a situation when you can just tackle it head-on?” He winks at me. “Isn’t that right, Bear?”

I wince. “Are you always on? You could dial it back. Just a little.”

“Where’s the fun in that? So, my apartment after class?” Isaiah asks, looking like he thinks it’s the greatest idea in the history of ever to get me alone in his apartment.

“If you’re going, then so am I,” Anna says, looking like she thinks it’s the stupidest idea in the history of ever for me to go to his apartment alone. “He’s got a point,” I admit grudgingly. “What the hell do I have to wear to a gay bar?”

 

“Or any bar,” Anna points out. “You’re not really a ‘going out’ kind of person.”

“Having a nine-year-old kinda does that to you,” I remind her. “That, and the fact that I don’t really like to drink. Stupid shit happens when I drink.”

“Like what?” Isaiah asks.

“Long story,” I say, glancing at Anna. She looks like she wants to smirk but is trying to stop herself. I wonder (like I’ve wondered often before) if she ever got pissed off at me when she found out I’d kissed Otter all those years ago when she and I were still together. It seems trivial to focus on the one thing, especially since it was such a small part of a bigger whole that I completely fucked up, but I can’t help but think she was the one I hurt the most through all of this, and even though she’s bounced back with a resiliency I should not have doubted, I don’t know if it’s because of her supposed guilt over dating Creed or a genuine need to see me happy. I’d like to think it’s the latter, but I know it’s probably a combination of the two. I don’t know if I need to apologize to her for anything again. How many times must a person say they’re sorry before it just sounds forced and false? I know, I know: blah, blah, blah.

“Do you ever have any stories that aren’t long?” Isaiah asks, sounding exasperated. “A person won’t be able to learn a damn thing about you unless they want to listen to you talk for days.”

“Hey,” I say, insulted. “Some people
like
to hear me talk.”

“Especially his boyfriend,” Anna says snidely. “His gigantic, sweet, hotter-than-hell boyfriend who probably hates you for even breathing the same air as the person he’s loved for all his life and—”

“Jesus
Christ
,” I groan. “Give it a
rest
.”

 

“Why?” she snaps at me. “So I can just sit here and watch you flirt with this tool?”

“You’re flirting with me?” Isaiah asks, arching an eyebrow. “I’m flattered. And I’m not a tool. Unless you want me to be.” He flashes a lascivious grin.

“I’m not flirting with you,” I reassure him. “You’re nice, but not my type.”

Ha!
it whispers.
Hilarious. I thought we were done with the whole “less than the truth” thing. Admitting you have a problem is the first step toward recovery. Hi, my name is Bear, and I’m attracted to men who are not my boyfriend.

I don’t have a problem
, I remind it
. I have hormones and errant blood that seems to wander down to my dick without my consent. It’s called being in your twenties.

It’s funny how you always have an excuse for everything,
it says as it chuckles.
Lord knows your life will never be boring. Not honest, either, but at least it’ll never be boring.

“Not your type?” Isaiah scoffs. “I’m
everyone’s
type.”
“So what you’re saying is you’re a slut,” Anna says.
“If the cockring fits,” Isaiah says, grinning wickedly.

“It’s sad that you think you’re funny,” Anna says with faux sympathy. “Quick, cover up your narcissism before someone sees it.”

 

“You and me,” he says seriously, “we’re going to end up being best friends.”

 

“I highly, highly doubt that.”

Actually, I could almost see that happening, if they don’t kill each other first. But for once I keep my mouth shut. I don’t need to be under Anna’s wrath any more than I already am.

O
TTER
had planned for us to get a hotel in Portland to stay the night so we wouldn’t have to drive back so late. I understood the implied message behind his words was that he didn’t want to drive back drunk. This caused me to pause for a moment and to try and think of a time that I’d ever seen Otter drunk, and I realized that in all the years I’d known him, I’d never seen him drunk; beyond that, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him even tipsy. Otter is a model of self-control, and when I told him this, he thought for a moment and shrugged, saying there was only one thing in the world he couldn’t control himself over. I’d asked him what that was. He said I shouldn’t have even had to ask and kissed me sweetly before heading off to take a shower. I realized what it was about two seconds later and ran in after him, showing him just how much I enjoyed that loss of control of his. I was even able to put Eddie Egan and his idiotic questions about dominance out of my head long enough for Otter to have me pressed up against the shower wall, his massive body pressed against mine as I writhed under his lips and teeth attached to my neck and his dick up my ass.

If that’s not devotion, then I don’t know what is.

Isaiah had lived up to his promise and given me some clothes that he said would send all the boys running after me. I told him that I didn’t want boys chasing me. He said that I probably shouldn’t go, then. I told him that was my plan to begin with. He told me to stop being such a baby and then made me try on jeans that felt like a second skin but made my ass look a lot better than it actually is and a black, collared button-down that he said to leave unbuttoned halfway down. It made my chest look huge, the white skin there contrasting with the dark shirt so much that I looked like I glowed in the dark. Isaiah rolled up the sleeves, rubbing my forearms appreciatively while Anna scowled in the background. He took some goopy sticky crap and rubbed it through my hair, making it look messy on purpose. He then gave me a leather bracelet thing that I normally associate with douche bags and told me to snap it around my wrist.

When he finished, he stepped back and said I looked hotter than fuck. Anna agreed, although it killed her to admit it.

I looked in the mirror and realized I looked like a whore. It was weird, because I knew it was my reflection I was looking at and I could still see the faint outline of the real me buried in there somewhere, but this Bear looked slutty and ripped and hot and gross. It didn’t help when I found myself flexing at my reflection just to see what it’d look like. Isaiah came and stood behind me, brushing invisible somethings off my shoulders, grinning at me in the mirror. That grin that said
I told you so
. That grin that said
you love the way you look
. I was never one for these things, because what would be the point? It was easier to focus on the reality of life, that Tyson needed a new coat or new school supplies. That the water bill was due. Our cell phone bills. I needed gas. Or food. I didn’t have time to care about the little bullshit stuff that some people get to worry about. But I wasn’t bitter because I’d never had them in the first place. And looking at myself in the mirror, all sheen and pretty and fake, I didn’t know if I wanted it.