"Talk to me, buddy," Mike begged.
Pulling in a deep breath, I went with the phrase I'd been practicing so long. "I'm a bisexual man, Mike." And then I couldn't figure out what came next.
"And?" he asked. "Does that mean you can't see your daughter?"
Fuck, but my eyes started welling up. He wasn't calling me a faggot. He hadn't hung up on me. He sounded like he was honestly worried about Faith, and here I was about ready to puke.
"No, I got primary custody," I said, but my voice was off, so I cleared my throat. "Um, Simmons paid for Meredith to have a private investigator, and, uh, seems he got some pictures of me with a guy, like, on the property. And, uh, you see..." Why was this so fucking hard? "They put them up on this big monitor. Faith was sitting right there, and my attorney said I couldn't tell her until after the shit was done, so like, she had no clue. But there was me, her daddy, with a guy's hand on my dick. Another with my hand on his. And, um, kissing and shit. She's fuckingthirteen!I didn't want her to see that shit!"
"That's the kinda shit that scars kids for life," Mike agreed. "Parents aren't supposed to fuck."
He was rolling with this a little too well, so I had to double down. "Mike, it was a guy. I was groping a fucking man, don't you get that?"
"Nope, got it," he promised. "So, does this mean I call you gay now?"
"I'm bi," I grumbled. A split second later, his words hit me. "Mike? Are you honestly ok with this?"
"Shit," the man drawled. "Luke, this ain't no fuckin' surprise. When you were a freshman, you used to eye fuck Jeremy Brenner. Always kept waiting for you to say you were gay - and see, I got this. Haven't said faggot once because I've been practicing. Was kinda waiting for you to tell me, you know? I mean, you damn near kissed Clay Clarkson at homecoming that year when you got so damned drunk."
"What?" I asked, hearing what he said, but just not able to wrap my mind around it.
"I just thought that you fucked Meredith to, you know, make people shut up. I figured that was why you never had a girl. Thought it might be why your parents never took you back in. I mean, you were always talking about these babes you picked up, but ain't no one seen you with one. Then you go and start dating that model with her little gay friends, right? I mean, c'mon, that's pretty easy to figure out. So, you finally gonna tell me what the fuck you're doing?"
A breathy laugh just fell out. "I'm with all of them."
"No way," Mike teased. "Serious, man. C'mon, I've been your best friend for how long and you're not gonna tell me?"
"I'm serious," I admitted. "I mean, it wasn't until Cy kissed me that I even thought about it."
"So, do guys suck dick better?" Mike asked, sounding just a little too serious.
"Nope," I said. "It's pretty much the same. Well, if she's the kind of girl who will actually suck it and not just lick the tip."
Mike laughed just the way I knew he would. "Yeah, man. Sounds about right. So, how pissed is Meredith about all this?"
"Someone put a death threat on our door," I told him. "It happened while we were at court, so it wasn't her, but I bet she's gonna love that. She says I stole her daughter. Thing is, I want Faith to grow up and be just like Violet. Strong, you know? Confident."
"Well, I guess if you're actually sleeping with the billboard model, I'm not gonna get any nude pics of her. Maybe you can shoot me some of the guys. You know, so I know their names. Clothes on, please! I still like the pussy, you know."
"You're a good friend, Mike," I said. "Know something? You're the first person I've ever told. I mean, the rest figured it out, but I was pretty sure you'd never talk to me again."
"Shit," he laughed. "Not like I got nothing better to do, and you're gonna get me a whole lot of that rich business." Then he paused. "Wait. Did your boyfriend buy you the truck?"
"Two boyfriends and a girlfriend," I clarified because it sounded like he was still trying to figure this out. "And Ash bought the truck before he was a boyfriend. He's rich as fuck, Mike. Vi's not far behind him. Cy's a doctor. Like, the mental health type. I have no fucking clue what they see in me, but yeah. I have the three loves of my life and my little girl. If there hadn't been that shit on the door and the gate crushed, I wouldn't believe this was all real."
"Someone crushed the gate?" he asked.
"Mhm. Looks like they drove through it."
"Huh." He was quiet for a little too long. "I'll keep an eye out for any fucked-up bumpers. Shit like that? They'll come to me to buy a new one."
"Don't say shit if they do," I warned him. "Mike, I don't think these people are playing around, and it sure feels like lines are being drawn."
"And I'm on your side," he promised. "Now go celebrate. Don't let those fuckers ruin your fun. I dunno, like slap an ass for me. Tell me it's the model's, but I don't really care which one."
"You're a good friend, Mike," I said as I ended the call.
Then I sat there for a little longer. All my life, I'd assumed that Mike and I were friends because we had nothing better to do. For the first time, I'd just seen that it didn't go both ways. I'd been a shit friend to him, but he'd always been there for me. Damn, and he'd known I was into men before I did? He didn't fucking care?
