I haven’t seen Damien in almost a year, but suddenly, that doesn’t feel long enough. I have less than no idea how one’s supposed to respond to that, and I find I don’t have a huge amount of interest in working it out. I look over his shoulder, scanning the room for Elliot. Damien doesn’t like being ignored. He never did. He ups the ante, sliding a hand up my chest and pretending to remove a piece of lint from my shoulder. “Not like you, huh?” His voice drops almost an octave. “We had some fun, you and I. We had some kinky good times.” He looks down, and when he looks up again, his eyes are wide and clear, the picture of boyish innocence. A picture so pretty and perfect that I bought into it for way, way too long. He grazes his bottom lip with his teeth, “Didn’t we, Daddy?”
“Stop it,” I hiss, looking around again to see if I can find Elliot.
“We didlotsof things, you and I. So many things. All the things, I guess you could say.” His hand is on my chest again, and he’s close. Too close. “You know what we never did though…breakup sex. Ex-sex. A fuck where you’re inside me, fucking me hard and rough, even though we both know it’s over. A last time.” He nods slowly. “Mmm. Yeah, we should totally do that. A final fuck. For closure, or some shit like that.”
I think of the sad bottle of moisturizer I kept in the bathroom for months, and I think of what I felt like when he left. I think of all the hours I’ve spent going over what I did wrong and how I could have been better. Then I think of the photograph of him and Sadie, and I see it torn up into neat little pieces at the bottom of the trash can, and I smile.
“I’ve had closure.”
“Hmm.” He bristles, but he shakes it off quickly. He twitches his head to my left and narrows his eyes. “Who’s Puppy Dog Eyes over there? He’s watching you like a lost little stalker.”
I follow Damien’s gaze and catch sight of Elliot through a throng of people. He’s standing stock still. People all around him are moving, but he’s frozen. His eyes are huge, watery and wobbly, and his brows are raised high in horror. His chest heaves when my eyes find his and his mouth drops open.
He’s wearing a suit. It’s fitted as hell, obviously, but it suits him. Dark blue with a pink floral shirt. He looks beautiful. Sweet and sparkly under the lights. His hair is shiny. It's so shiny, it might be the shiniest thing in this whole shiny shitshow. I smile slowly, watching as his whole body relaxes for no reason other than the fact I’m looking at him.
“That’s my boy, Elliot Gould.”
I say it loud and clear, taking care to pronounce each word carefully so Elliot can read my lips as I do. I start walking toward him as fast as I can, weaving through people, suddenly unable to wait another second to be close to him.
I think I hear Damien’s voice saying, “Gould?Gould?”but I don’t stop to find out.
“Hi,” says Elliot, swallowing hard.
He leans forward to kiss me and then hesitates. I circle his waist and pull him toward me, holding him tight and kissing him softly, dipping my tongue into his mouth for a taste of the sweetness he has inside him.
“Hello-o,” trills a strident voice. “Don’t think we’ve met.”
Oh fuck.
“Elliot, this is Damien. Damien, Elliot.”
“Nice to meet y—” Elliot barely gets the words out of his mouth before Damien cuts him off.
“Well, aren’t you adorable? What a gorgeous little thing. Say what you will about Stuart, but he’s always had excellent taste in men.” Elliot gives him an uncertain smile and looks at me like a deer in the headlights. “I don’t seem to remember you liking them this young, but I guess things change.” High-pitched laughter bounces off glass. “Can’t say I blame you.” He looks Elliot up and down. “Idefinitelywould. Two boys and a mean Daddy? No, that’s been done to death. Oooh! I’ve got it, a bad boy withtwoDaddies, mmph!” He smacks his lips loudly.
I expect Elliot to flounder, and I don’t blame him. This conversation and Damien in general are too much for most people to handle. I step forward, ready to shut this shit down, but Elliot beats me to it.
His eyes are almost black and his chin is tilted toward his chest. “Idon’tshare.”
I wrap an arm around his waist and pull him toward me. “I don’t either.”
Damien laughs again. Longer and louder. Stopping only when a stout man with an expensive suit and an uninteresting face touches his arm.
We suffer through more introductions and several minutes of painfully slick small talk until Jed and Damien take their leave.
We watch them walk away, and the second they’re out of earshot, Elliot's face lights up into the most mischievous grin I've seen yet and he says, “My Daddy’s hotter than his Daddy.”
I start laughing. A belly-clenching, eye-wateringly hard laugh. A valve opens, releasing the tension of the encounter and sending it fizzing all over the room. Elliot laughs too. We laugh and laugh, and every time we stop, he says something worse.
“My Daddy is more hung than his Daddy.”
“My Daddy spanks harder than his Daddy.”
“My Daddy is more of a perv than his Daddy.”
By the time Elliot’s boss calls it a night and we can leave without seeming like we’re ducking, I’ve laughed so much that the extra oxygen has gone to my head. I’m lightheaded. I’m light everywhere. I find myself watching Elliot’s face light up and splinter into the purest of giggles. Eyes shiny. Cheeks pink. He looks happy.
I know I look exactly the same. I feel the same. I feel like I've spent a whole night laughing with an old friend.
