Ran waves my concern away. “No, no, nothing like that. I just realized I didn’t think to ask before. Do they know you’re gay?”
“Oh.” The question takes me by surprise a little. “Uh, maybe? I’ve never really said much about my personal life.”
I glance down at the end of the bar, but the guys are talking and not even close to done with their beers, so I lean over and prop my forearms on the bar. “This is a good place. AJ is pretty zero-strikes-you’re-out when it comes to any kind of slurs. Our beer distributor sent some pride-month swag last summer —you know, coasters and shit like that — that I put out, and nobody said anything negative. And Mikey —” I subtly tip myhead in his direction, “has a son who’s gay. Nobody gets weird or rude or anything when he talks about him and his boyfriend.” I straighten back up. “Why’d you ask, anyway?”
“I didn’t know if I had to act or not act a certain way around you, or what I should say if anybody asked about you and me.”
“Oh. Uh, whatever you want, I guess.” I hadn’t thought about this prospect — which was probably a mistake on my part, because the regulars can be nosy as hell.
The cook rings the bell to let me know somebody’s order is up. “I gotta hustle,” I tell Ran.
“Oh, yeah —of course.” He waves his hand. “Didn’t mean to keep you.”
“You weren’t. But, um, I wouldn’t care if people knew. Actually, I think I’d like it.” The thought of Ran publicly claiming me ashisputs a smile on my lips and a flutter in my belly as I head towards the kitchen pass-through.
I bring Mikey his fries and go to grab a glass of the shittiest draft beer we’ve got for Frankie —the only kind he’ll drink —as he settles onto his usual barstool. I don’t get far.
“Wait-wait-wait —get back over here!” Mikey frowns as he beckons me over.
I shoot Bruce an exaggerated glare. “Uh-oh —what’d you say to him? Come on, now — I’m too busy back here to play referee.”
Bruce snorts. “I didn’t say nothing.”
“Didn’t say nothing,” Frankie echoes as I deposit his glass in front of him.
“Not him —you.” Mikey narrows his eyes as I approach him.
I huff out an irritated sigh. “If it’s about the ketchup again, we’ve been over this. Ipromiseyou it’s the name brand.”
“Naw. Ketchup’s fine. Open your mouth for a sec.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” I’m clearly not thinking, because I do as he asks. “The fuck’s that in your mouth, son?”
Oh, Jesus Christ. The tongue piercing. I sigh inwardly. This is going to be good for a solid month of ribbing unless I get out in front of it and nip it in the bud immediately. I stick my tongue out far enough to show the stud clearly. “It’s a piercing,” I say, rolling my eyes like it’s the dumbest question anyone’s ever asked me.
“A what now? What’s it for?” Mikey looks befuddled, while Bruce lets out a whoop and slaps his hand down on the bar.
“I’m a-thinking that’s one of those things where if you gotta ask, you don’t really wanna know,” Frankie mutters. His eyes are glittering beneath the shadow of his fisherman’s cap and I can tell he’s enjoying this. Fucker.
Bruce elbows Mikey with a grin. “Youknow,” he says in a conspiratorial stage whisper. “It’s like asexthing.”
“Huh.” Mikey’s brow wrinkles in thought. What’s it supposed to feel like?”
“It’s not forhim, dummy,” Bruce says.
Frankie squints at me. “Looks like it fucking hurt.”
I shrug. “Not really.”
“So what’s it feel like?” Mikey asks again.
“You deaf, old man?” Bruce turns to him. “Isaidit ain’t for —”
“It feelsgood.” All the heads in the bar, including mine, snap to Ran. He has his elbow propped up on the bar, his chin resting in his hand and a shit-eating grin on his face. There’s a mischievous sparkle in his eyes when he looks at me. I try not to laugh, given that he hasn’tactuallygotten a chance to feel it yet. “Realgood,” he adds, giving me a comically exaggerated leer.
For about a second, Finn’s is entirely silent before the regulars bring down the house with a chorus of hoots and guffaws. I feel a grin of my own spreading across my face until it feels a mile wide. “Like the smart man says,” I say, waving a hand in Ran’s direction.
