Date: Sat, 27 Aug 2011 00:40:35 -0500
From: Jonothan Wolf <jwolf24450@gmail.com>
Subject: The Funny Thing Is... Chapter 8

**Standard disclaimer applies. This is purely fiction (if based only
slightly on actual events). Don't read if you shouldn't because you're
under 18 or live in a backwards area. This is a continuation of The List.
It isn't necessary to read The List, but it would help in understanding
characters and references. I appreciate any and all feedback, so please
email me at jwolf24450@gmail.com. Enjoy the story!


     The Funny Thing Is... Some Things Are Just Never What They Seem.

       There are certain things in life that are straight forward. You can
take these things at face value and they never really surprise you. You
will pay taxes. You will gain a few pounds during the holidays. You will
turn into your parents as you age. Most of life's normalities are exactly
what they seem. But then, every once in a while, life throws you a major
curveball. Just as things were beginning to resemble what they seemed to
be, readers, I got tossed one of those inevitable curve balls.
       As I stood at the back of the middle boat, listening to Kyle Wriggs
and Winston Smith announce their intentions to be married, I knew I had one
of two choices. I could stand there, bitter, upset, jilted and angry,
suppressing the desire to vomit. Or I could get shitfaced.
       I decided to get shitfaced.
       I finished the drink I had in my hand and quietly poured myself
another. By the time the announcement was done and everyone was clapping
along to the plans for a June ceremony, I was halfway done with another
Pink Panty Dropper.
       As if things couldn't get any worse, the DJ began playing the
ancient sappy song Can You Feel the Love Tonight from Kyle's favorite
childhood movie. I looked around, downed my cup and poured myself another
drink.
       "You don't look too thrilled," Bass said behind me as he dipped into
the trashcan for his next beverage. "What gives?"
       "Nothing," I said quickly, forcing a smile on my face. "I'm
excited. Surprised, is all. But I am... overjoyed for them."
       "Cooper, how long have I known you?" Bass asked as seriously as
someone who was above the legal limit could ask.
       "A long time," I said, realizing that my words were beginning to
slur.
       "Exactly," he said with a wink and smile. He pointed at me
deliberately. "So how long have you been screwing Kyle?"
       I couldn't tell if he meant literally or figuratively. The two
answers were vastly different.
       "How'd you know?"
       "I knew, buddy. I knew from the first day I smelled his sex all over
you at brunch. It doesn't take a fucking genius. People walk out on you,
and you screw someone. It's what you do."
       If he wasn't correct and drunk, I would have taken offense to the
statement. He was right though. It's what I'd always done.
       "The thing is, Kyle knows you too. We all know you. Hell, I'm
surprised Spencer didn't know ya'll were fucking, what with all the
sleepovers and the woe-is-me nights," Bass rambled.
       "Is there a point here?" I asked, sipping my drink and realizing I
was almost done with my third cup in ten minutes.
       "The point is, this is a good thing for both of you. He can't be
your body pillow forever," Bass said, his lips turning sideways like they
always did when he was drunk. "He's moving on and now you need to. Like
seriously. And not with Chase. I never liked him much, you know? So
smug. And arrogant."
       Bass concluded. I smiled at him, internally acknowledging that he
was right. Kyle deserved this. Kyle deserved to be happy despite of me. Or
maybe in spite of me. I had dragged him down in my baggage for far too long
and for whatever reason, he had pulled the trigger. It wasn't his fault
that he pulled it just as I was beginning to need him again. Our timetables
refused to align, and that wasn't his fault.
       But knowing that something was right and caring were two completely
different things. On paper, Kyle was doing the right thing. He would have
passed the life test with this decision. But in my head, he was giving up
on me way too soon. How do you go from being in bed with me one day to
being engaged to someone completely different the next? I couldn't help but
wonder if there was a difference between the right thing and the best
thing...
       By the time I saw the happy couple post announcement, I was a couple
drinks in and my tongue was definitely loose. I made a snap decision to
reign in my disappointment and put on a happy face.
       "Congratulations," I said to both of them as I approached. They had
set up shop on the center barge and people who knew them had made their way
to the front to offer their congratulations. I was just one person in a
long line of people who were excited for the pair.
       "Thanks Cooper," Winston said politely. The guy didn't like me and
it didn't take a sober me to see that. "I'll let you two talk."
       He picked up their empty cups and walked towards the drink station
on the first barge.
       "We don't have to do this," Kyle said quietly. The sadness in my eye
was definitely palpable. This wasn't how I'd expected Kyle and me to go
down.
       "It's okay," I replied with confidence. I mustered a smile. "I'm
happy for you and Winston... and... you know what, you're right. We
probably shouldn't do this now."
       "Cooper."
       "I want to be happy for you, Kyle, I definitely do, but... I just
don't know how right at this second," I said honestly. It was no use trying
to lie to him. He could have read the entire sentence on my face with just
one look.
       "Try holding that feeling in for twenty years and then give me a
call," he said with a shrug. It wasn't a cruel thing to say. In fact, it
was unbearably vulnerable. This decision that Kyle had made was by far the
most mature thing I'd ever seen one of my friends do. He was choosing to
move on, no matter how hard it was. And in the back of my mind, I knew I
had to let him.
       Luckily for me, Spencer wasn't too far away, holding a bottle of
Crown Royal, wearing a smile, and ready to dole out some much needed
wisdom.
       "Rough day?" he asked. I forced out a smile, took the bottle of
Crown, and took a swig. I didn't take the Coke chaser that Spencer
offered. In a way, standing there getting shitfaced with Spencer, analyzing
things about Kyle, and generally being confused about my love life, took me
back to freshman year in a big way.
       "I think you're making a huge mistake," Spencer said, echoing his
usual refrain.
       "I don't think I am. I have a feeling about this, and I just... he's
the real deal, Spencer," I said. It was the last Friday in April and the
last day that freshman had to resign their dorm leases. We'd talked
extensively about our sophomore year living arrangements, and it was
finally time to make a decision.
       "Besides the fact that splitting an apartment off campus is going to
zap most of your room and board scholarship, I just think it's too soon to
move in with him," Spencer replied. Spence speaking in a serious tone was
rare and startling. "You've been dating for, literally, three months."
       "Look, when you know, you know, alright?" I said, handing Spencer
back the Virginia dorm resigning lease. We'd talked through every scenario
of the four of us—Kyle, Spencer, Bass, and I—all getting a
house. We'd done the numbers on an apartment in Uptown. We'd even
considered all applying to be dorm counselors.
       Our last plan involved the four of us splitting a suite in the
sophomore complex. Spence and I would room together again. Bass and Kyle
would take the room across the common area from us. Four guys. Two
bathrooms. One refrigerator.
       And then the variations began. Spencer was courted to live in the
swimming house which, if he hadn't signed on, they would have lost to a
group of wrestlers. Bass' parents insisted he keep his job as a dorm
counselor in a valiant attempt to keep him grounded and away from the trust
fund baby tendencies lesser people born with his silver spoon would have
exhibited.
       That left Kyle and me. And it was when I expressed my uneasiness to
Chase about rooming with only my ex, who I knew was very much still into
me, he made the offer to live with him.
       "I've been thinking about getting an apartment away from campus for
a while," he had told me the night before I broke the news to Spence. "We
could split it and rent wouldn't be too bad."
       I crunched the numbers, decided I could pull it off if I applied for
work study, and then it was final. It left Kyle applying to live at the
Sigma house, something he had wanted to avoid at all cost, but at the end
of the day, we each had to make the best decision for us.
       "I just question what will happen when you and Chase break up,"
Spencer said candidly. He was an active cheerleader against Chase and me,
positive that we were moving too far too fast. He also had a
happily-ever-after all planned out for me with someone else, and he was
none too subtle about it.
       "Dude, Chase and I are solid," I said. "I know you don't get it, but
when you're in love with someone, you trust your gut and it all works out."
       He rolled his eyes and said the one thing I hated hearing from him.
       "One day, you're going to wake up and realize you chose the wrong
guy, and it's probably going to be too late."
       I never thought his words would ever actually come to fruition.
       "Are you listening?" Spencer asked. He was standing next to me
holding a bladder of wine and faded purple teeth.
       "Huh?" I asked, coming out of my blackout induced day dream.
       "I said I have something important to ask you."
       "I don't know how you expect me to take you seriously when you're
slapping the bag like that, but yes, I'm listening," I said, suddenly hit
by a bout of sobriety.
       "Okay, I'm only going to ask you this once, so listen up," he
began. "Let him be, Cooper. I know you have this twisted connection to Kyle
that frankly you both should see a therapist for. But he's made his choice
just like you did twenty years ago. Let him go. Actually... let him let you
go. Move on. Or better yet, stay single for a while. Just, whatever you do,
I am begging you to let him go and let him be happy."
       Coming from Spencer, the words carried a substantial amount of
weight. If I had been struggling to decide before his little speech, I
wasn't struggling anymore. Spencer was right; there was only one thing I
could do.
         Shots.
       With Spencer in tow, we went to the drink counter and took tequila
shot after jager bomb, after shotgunning a beer, after another tequila
shot. The goal was to erase the day, and by the time the boats took off for
a sunset circle around the lake, the day was all but gone from my mind.
       When I came to, I was in my bedroom, that much I was sure. The smell
of coffee filled my loft and I knew I hadn't brewed it, meaning someone was
there. Despite my throbbing head, I got out of bed, walked as carefully as
possible out of the room in an attempt to see who was domesticating my
kitchen this early on a holiday afternoon.
       "The boy who lives," he said with a bright smile. He was wearing my
robe and pushing down on my coffee press. I could hear bacon sizzling
behind him. I should have been happy had I not been utterly confused.
       "What the hell are you doing here?" I grogged, my throat too dry to
function.
       "Good morning to you too, sleeping beauty," he said. In my hangover,
I wished I could have wiped the smug look off his face, but admittedly, the
look was beautiful. "I made you coffee. There's water and aspirin out next
to your bed. And you might want to put on some pants."
       I looked down. In my attempt to investigate who the intruder was,
I'd neglected to realize I was buck naked. I hadn't woken up that hung
over—or quite possibly still drunk—since my bachelor party seventeen
years before.
       I took the coffee mug from his hands, walked back into my bedroom
and took three aspirin, finished a bottle of water and pulled on a pair of
Peruna Mustang sleeping pants, in that order.
       When I returned to the living room, Chase was domestically plating
two toad-in-a-holes next to some corned beef hash. He was wearing a pair of
my sweats, I noticed right away, and nothing else. It was impossible not to
notice the distinct outline in the jersey grey fabric as he walked a plate
over to me in the living room.
       I waited until he sat down with his own plate and cup of coffee
before I repeated my question.
       "So... are you going to tell me what you're doing here?"
       "You don't remember," he said. It was a little game I hated in
college, and it was a little game I hated just then. Let's let Cooper try
to remember what happened between the time he blacked out and the time he
woke up.
       "If I remembered, I wouldn't be asking you, Pal," I said playfully
annoyed. I guess I couldn't have a total attitude with someone who had
cooked me breakfast, but I was still surprised, alarmed, and nervous about
what I'd said or done the night before.
       "Relax," he said, leaning back and making himself comfortable. "You
called me from a cab on your way home. I stayed on the phone with you and
you kept saying you couldn't get in. When I got here to check on you, you
were asleep on your stoop holding your key, so evidently you were actually
unable to get it in."
       I put my hand to my head.
       "Seriously?" I asked. He smiled at me and I chuckled. What else
could I do but laugh?
       "Oh, seriously. You were passed out. You'd given up," Chase
laughed. "So I carried you inside, ran you through a shower, hence my
clothes being wet and in the dryer, and I put you to sleep. I slept out
here on your very comfortable couch."
       He patted the couch and I noticed a throw blanket under him. The
thought of Chase carrying me in with his big, strong, backstroke arms made
me melt. The thought of him being gentleman enough to sleep on the couch in
the event that I woke up and freaked out at someone unexpected in my
bed... well that was downright chivalrous.
       "Thank you," I said simply with a curt smile. I loaded my fork and
took a bite of delicious potatoes. The grease coated my scratchy throat,
and I could feel the potato soaking up toxins almost as soon as the starch
hit my tongue.
       "Don't sweat it," he said. "I'm just glad you called me."
       I searched for the subtext in his voice, but I couldn't find any. He
didn't stress me, so I didn't think he was putting himself above
anyone. The lack of stress on glad meant he wasn't waiting by the phone all
these nights for me to call. In fact, the ease in which he said the
sentence left me wondering.
       Stressing over his lack of stress, I asked: "Did I say anything to
you last night?"
       "You were pretty incoherent throughout everything," he said. "I
asked you in the shower how you got home, and you said that Spencer put you
in a cab. And I asked you about the party and you said something about a
wedding. I didn't understand it to be honest. Did someone get married on
the boat?"
       I took another bite, relieved that I hadn't explained that my sudden
desire to drunk dial him was a direct correlation between Kyle's sudden
desire to marry his on-again-off-again sweetheart.
       "No," I replied honestly. "I think it was a game we were playing or
something."
       "Oh," he said, not fully believing me, I was sure. "Oh, and Spencer
called to check on you both last night and this morning. He asked about
some guy named Andrew that was supposed to make sure you got home safely."
       "Andrew?" I asked, mostly to myself. The name rang slightly
familiar, but I couldn't pin point it. It must have been someone I talked
to on the boat or something. I put in the back of my mind. "Any other
calls?"
       "Yeah." He hesitated. "One from Kyle."
       "What did he say?" I said. I sat up quickly.
       "Well, he was obviously surprised that I answered your phone," Chase
replied. I put my hand on my head and shook it. Fuck, I thought. Having
Chase over the night I made an impassionate plea, regardless of what we did
or didn't do, was not the way to make Kyle see my point. "He told me to
tell you that Devon messaged over some sort of settlement offer."
       I bolted up. As soon as I heard Devon and settlement offer, I was
half-way across the living room.
       "Cooper," Chase called out to me as I put my dish in the sink and
crossed towards the bedroom to get dressed. I was sort of annoyed that this
little announcement wasn't the first thing out of his mouth this
morning. My head pounded with every step, but I didn't slow down.
       "Where are you going?"
       "I'm going to Kyle's office," I said as I dug into my closet for a
clean shirt.
       "It's Labor Day, gamin," he said matter-of-factly. "I doubt he's at
work."
       He was probably right, but I had to try him. If he wasn't at the
office, I'd try his apartment. A settlement offer was a big deal, and no
matter what it said, I needed to see it immediately.
       "I'm going to find him," I said, pulling a pair of slacks on. "Are
you going to stand around looking pretty or are you going to get dressed
and come with me?"
       I knew what I had said, but I didn't quite fathom the implications
of the invitation until the words were out.
       "I mean, you don't have to. It's just... I need to see what Devon
sent over," I replied. I crossed to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash
the crud out of my eyes. I heard Chase say something about calling someone
on the phone, but I didn't pay it any mind. This was priority number one.
       As I left the apartment in a hurry with Chase right behind me, I
found myself saying something else that I didn't stop to consider the
implications of. As we got to Chase's car, parked right next to mine in the
fairly empty lot, he asked if I would do dinner with him.
       "Yeah, I'd like that," I replied quickly, pulling my shades on and
stepping into my sweltering car. I guess saving me from asphyxiating on my
own vomit was the foot in the door Chase had been waiting for, and he
wasn't going to relinquish that position easily.
       With a sore head and a heavy foot, I made it across town to Wriggs
and Streck in record time. The office building was a ghost town, with every
partner and senior associate out on their decked out yatchs or spending the
weekend at vacation homes outside of the metroplex. The only people
lingering around were junior associates hoping to get their billing hours
higher than the next guy. Even assistants and secretaries took the weekend
off.
       Which is why I breezed past any sort of security when I used Kyle's
elevator code to get me to the top floor. Kyle's office was second to the
last on the far side, and I heard voices as soon as I turned the
corner. His was the only light on, and the door was cracked open.
       "It's not something I ever even thought about," Kyle confessed in a
hushed tone even though the building was all but deserted. "Until Jason
brought it up, I wouldn't have even considered it."
       "And where is your head at now?" an unfamiliar voice asked.
       "To be honest, I'm intrigued by the prospect."
       "I'll be frank with you, Wriggs," the deep, masculine voice said in
the same hushed tone. I stopped short of Kyle's floor length window and
listened to this man be frank. "The governor's office is excited about the
prospect of an openly gay man running for district attorney here in Dallas
and repainting the politics of this city. We're well behind Fort Worth,
obviously Austin and San Antonio bit that bullet ages ago with their
district attorneys and mayors, and the fact that a proud lesbian sits on
the circuit court in Houston means it isn't an impossible task. Hell,
Lubbock's city planner is a homosexual, and between you and me, I would be
surprised if the mayor isn't as well, as many hunting trips as those two
take."
       There was a long pause, and then the deep voice said the clinching
words.
        "You have the credentials, the pedigree, and now you've certainly
got the right companion on your side. You and Winston will look spectacular
in that announcement photo, let me tell you. All you need is the proper
financing and I think you can give District Attorney Thompson a run for her
money."
       "Financing won't be an issue," Kyle said confidently. Not when your
best friend was undisputedly one of the wealthiest bachelors in the entire
state.
       "Neither will an endorsement from the governor's office," the
mystery man said. I got the sense the meeting was coming to an end, so I
took a quick step forward and knocked on the door, pretending like I hadn't
heard Kyle just broker an underground deal to run for Dallas DA.
       "Sorry to interrupt," I said, playing up my surprise to see the tall
and strapping black man standing there in front of Kyle, as he sat on the
edge of his dark wood desk.
       "We were just wrapping up." Kyle hopped down, shook the official's
hand and led him out. I heard something about dinner or a lunch or a call
anytime he was in Austin. The man said something about making sure the
announcement made it to the Austin Ledger and a second later, Kyle popped
back in.
       "Hey," he said nonchalantly. I thought about asking him what the
meeting was about, but every single one of my instincts told me not to. I
fought against it and explained the real reason I was there.
       "Yeah, I did call you this morning," Kyle replied. "Chase answered,
which was something of a surprise."
       "I drunk dialed him last night and he helped me home," I confessed
truthfully. Kyle raised an eyebrow. I wanted to tell him he had forfeited
the right to raise an eyebrow when Winston put an engagement band on his
finger, but I didn't say it.
       "Nothing happened," I told him flatly, taking a seat on the left
side of his office, where the casual conversations were held around a
coffee table and not an imposing desk with straight leather backed
chairs. "So what exactly did Devon messenger over?"
       Kyle crossed the office carrying a simple manila file folder. I
opened it and was immediately bombarded with legal jargon that made my head
ache even more.
       "Basically, following y'alls little visit the other night, she wants
to amend the temporary divorce order," he said. "And with this document
here, she is waiving any request for financial assistance from you,
essentially cutting the discovery proceedings in half. This whole thing
could be over in a matter of weeks as opposed to months."
       I looked down at the paper and read where she was waiving her right
to financial assistance from me. That was somewhat of a surprise, but
probably her way of saying she wanted to proceed in good faith from here on
out. What I was most interested in was the amendment to the divorce order.
       "She wants to drop the restraining orders and make your children
available to you upon request. Basically, you have full access to them as
long as you call her and seek permission first," he said. "It's lifted when
they turn sixteen and they can choose to see you ad libidum. It's all in
there."
       "Parenting by appointment," I said under my breath. "What's the
catch?" I asked, mildly suspicious at such a generous offer and a complete
change of heart.
       "From what I read, there is no catch," Kyle said, sitting up and
leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. It was his go to lawyer
stance, and his tone was all business, regardless of how close he was to
me. "I called our divorce specialist here, and he thinks an olive branch
like this one could have come from one of two things. First, she might
finally understand what a big fight can do to your relationship as well as
how it can affect the kids. We were looking at a month long discovery
period, and that was just to exchange documents back and forth. It's
tiring, taxing, and with Franklin as counsel, extremely expensive. The
other theory he had is that she has some skeletons in her closet that she
doesn't want released when we start digging. If that's true, you might be
able to do better than this."
       Kyle's eyes were wide. I couldn't tell what theory he believed or
what he wanted me to believe. I knew the majority of Devon's skeletons, but
they weren't things I would ever hold against her. We'd both had
extramarital affairs. I didn't have pictures or phone records of hers, but
a subpoena and an oath would bring out the truth.
       There was the question of her commitment to family life when she
started a dental clinic when our kids were young, forcing me to play
primary parent. At the time, it was a convenient option because I could
write from home, but her work log was stacked with trips, eighty hour work
weeks, and conferences galore. Those didn't matter in the first hearing,
but Kyle was sure they'd come into play in family court.
       Still, the idea of getting my kids back, of not having to hide out
in a box at their football games, of getting to drive them to karate on
Saturday morning without a proxy there... that thought made everything else
moot.
       "I don't think she's hiding anything," I told Kyle with a straight
face.
       "Then I advise you to sign the document and messenger it over to
Franklin before Devon changes her mind," Kyle said, handing me a pen from a
drawer in his apothecary table. "This is a good deal, Coop. Especially
since Devon makes considerably more money than you do."
       I looked up at him. That was impossible, I thought. I made more
money than her. Not considerably more, but it was more. There was no way.
       "What?" I asked, not meaning to let my chauvinism show, but I was
fairly certain he was wrong about that.
       "Yeah, I got the report from your accountant this morning and it
matches up with what she sent over. She's not asking for financial
assistance because, basically, she's not entitled to any. She almost laps
you, Cooper."
       "That's impossible," I replied. "With the book deal, the column, and
my contract with the school. I make a lot of money."
       "Yeah, you do," Kyle said. "But her clinic is booming. If y'all were
to even the score out in court, she'd come out with a loss, even if she did
keep the kids."
       Hearing Kyle say that Devon's clinic, which I had helped her build
from the ground up, was booming and that crafty wench was trying to keep my
hands off it, put a brick in my belly. My first thought was how dare she?
My second thought was that she would mask her desire to keep me away from
her profits as an even handed deal. Leverage the kids, keep Coop away from
the cash. I could see her and Franklin sitting around with dry martinis and
planning the whole thing. I hesitated before I signed.
       "Now I kind of want to think about this," I said.
       "Coop."
       "No, Kyle, I put a lot of work into that clinic. If she's raking it
in, I'm entitled to something, right?"
       "Trust me, buddy, you're doing just fine without that money," Kyle
said with big eyes. "This is a Christmas present compared to what a judge
would award. I say take it and we'll even the score when it comes to
assets."
       Kyle went on to explain that granting her waiver of financial
support didn't mean the playing field was leveled completely. We still had
two homes, two cars, and a substantial amount of stock—including what
I'd signed into the clinic—to hammer out. This only waived either of us
the obligation to pay spousal or child support, which, as Kyle stressed,
neither of us particularly needed. It was simply one less hurdle towards a
fairly amicable divorce.
       In the end, he explained that it was a no brainer. Seven signatures
and three initials later, and my obligation to support my wife was
effectively waived, as was the court order to stay away from my children.
       "So now you know what I make," I said to Kyle as I signed the
pages. It wasn't something I'd tried to hold secret, but I didn't flash
money around in quite the same way that Spencer did.
       "I do," Kyle said, collecting the pages as I signed them.
       "And... where does that put me from what you know about the four?"
       "Well none of us can touch Spencer, that's for sure. He makes an
assload in dividends each month, it's sickening."
       "I mean, one gamble on alternative fuel and the guy hasn't worked a
day in his life," I smiled.
       "It's quite absurd," Kyle said. "You make less than I do, but if you
were to hit the touring circuit it again like you did after All Cooped Up,
I'm sure that would close the gap." I nodded along to that one. As a
best-seller, as much as I made on the front end, the status as a celebrity
put more in my pocket from appearances and select endorsements. The year
after the book dropped and people clamored to get it, I was commanding a
pretty penny for graduations, conferences, cruises, and basically anywhere
people would listen to me tell my tale of bisexual woe. Luckily, my
accountant was both sexy and smart and had put that money away for me in a
high yield kind of complicated way.
       "And you definitely make more than Bass does annually, even if you
break up your advance money," Kyle concluded.
       "But Bass has that trust fund," I said. Kyle nodded. "So what you're
saying is, all things considered, I'm the poorest of the four of us."
       I finished signing the papers, and watched Kyle as he signed the
last one under the attorney tab and put them back into the folder.
       "You are far from poor," Kyle responded. He stood up, rolling his
eyes as I lamented my status at the bottom of my friends' heap.
       "I'm even poorer than Devon," I said standing and following him. "If
we were to all go to Aspen for Christmas or something, I wouldn't be able
to afford it."
       "Calm down, you're not knocking on bankruptcy's door, Cooper. Plus
you live a much more modest lifestyle than Spencer and me."
       "Yeah. I'm not trying to run for office or anything," I blurted,
without even thinking. The words came out like last night's vomit, and Kyle
turned around quickly to catch them. I wished I could have pulled them back
before they reached him, but they were out there, in the atmosphere, and he
knew I knew everything.
       "I don't know what you think you heard," Kyle said evenly.
       "I didn't hear anything, Kyle," I replied quickly, closing the gap
between us. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that."
       "Okay," he replied, clearly flustered. He took a deep
breath. "Um... yes. Running or district attorney is something I'm
considering. So cat's out; you're the only one who knows. Don't say
anything to anyone, not even Spencer or Bass, I am begging you."
       "My lips are sealed," I replied sincerely. And because there was no
way I could let it go, knowing what I now knew, I asked it anyway. "Look,
Kyle. This wedding thing... it doesn't have anything to do with the bid for
city hall does it?"
       He looked at me with an intensity I hadn't seen for years. Of course
it did, I thought. There was no way it didn't. Being gay was one thing, but
being a bachelor and running for office was a different thing
altogether. It would cause a considerable amount of problems I'm sure Kyle
had predicted. And in all truth, Winston made a much better trophy husband
than I did. But still, I needed to know if that was why Kyle had done it,
if only to ease my own disappointment.
       "Cooper, I'm only going to say this to you one time, so as soon as
I'm done, drop it for good. I'm marrying Winston because I love
him. Everything else is... secondary. Can you understand that?"
       I challenged his stare for a second. Sure, I thought. But it's total
bullshit.
       I could have made an issue out of it, and truthfully, if I hadn't
seen Chase that very morning, I might have. But something about last night
and the acceptance of my fate made the fight for Kyle go from uphill to
impossible. Even if he was marrying Winston for the picture in the paper,
he was still marrying Winston. I didn't think I could compete with that.
       "Okay," I said, trying my hardest to be sincere. "Consider it
dropped. Forever."
       "Good," he said, turning back around and putting my file on top of
his desk.
       He couldn't have ushered me out of there quicker, saying he had to
get across town to see Winston and the two of them had dinner plans. I said
goodbye, awkwardly, and drove myself home.
       The thought of Kyle sticking it out with Winston simply to get
elected to the DA's office drove me insane. Granted, I had heard only a
snippet of the conversation between him and whatever handlers he had coming
up from Austin, but still. It seemed like a disingenuous proposition
bordering on prostitution.
       It was the first time Kyle had screwed his way to the top, as
evidenced by the second largest Sigma placard hanging in the Wriggs and
Streck War Room. He'd screwed Rusty right into the fraternity, following
his brother's advice. Once there, he `forged relationships' for three years
until he was awarded the coveted position of Securities Chair, second in
command and in charge of the secret fraternity's overall image, including
recruitment. The news shouldn't have surprised me, but that didn't stop it
from bothering me.
       By the time I got home, I had all but forgotten that I'd agreed to
go to dinner with Chase. The excitement over Devon's white flag that would
fly officially in the morning and the news that Kyle had dropped me, not
necessarily because he didn't want me, but because he had to in order to
further his career had pushed Chase to the back burner. Not a terrible
place to be, but still.
       I walked into the apartment and went straight to my bedroom, ready
to strip down for a much needed shower. As I peeled my shirt off, I noticed
the Barney's box on the bed, black with silver cursive writing. The box was
classic and instantly recognizable. It would have taken a team of cleaning
ladies to wipe the smile off my face when I approached it.
       I sat down, wondering when he had time to do it between me changing
clothes like a lightning rod and us leaving the apartment like we were
being chased.
       "What the hell?" I whispered to myself as I pealed back the shiny
grey ribbon. And then I remembered. He had a key. He'd had a key since the
realtor gave me two and I handed him one, intending the place to belong to
the both of us.
       I lifted the lid and saw a small card perched on top of a navy blue,
one-button Givenchy suit. The fabric almost glistened when I lifted it and
examined the size. I was certain the luxury fabric would fit me like a
glove.
       "Oh my god," I let escape as I took each piece out of the box and
laid them out. The jacket, the tailored pants, the checkered shirt, the
striped tie and finally the red silken pocket square, held to the bottom of
the box by a tie clip with a lone diamond stud at the end.
       Overwhelmed, I opened the card, and read it.
       To Cooper: A car is coming to whisk you away at seven. I'll do the
rest.
       It was almost too much for me to handle. Just minutes before, I had
been reveling in the thought of Kyle still being in love with me,
regardless of what he was obligated to do in order to further his
career. And now here I was excited to change into designer duds and meet
another man for a date that Vivian Ward would have cried foul for.
       It was hard, but as I sat there thinking about it, I came to the
conclusion that it was indeed possible to love two men at the same time.
       And it hit me that at some point, I would have to choose. It
wouldn't be a, "What do you want for dinner?" choice, but rather a "Who are
you going to give your heart to" choice. With Kyle playing husband, I
thought that choice would have been easier, but as I stood up and walked to
the shower, I realized that what I knew now only made that choice more
complicated.
       I had no doubt that if I fought for Kyle, I would win. Winston be
damned. District attorney aside, he would pick me if I asked him to. But
the question was, could I ask him to?
       And then there was no doubt that Chase could make me happy. He was
amazing and romantic and we worked together. I could love him again. But
could I ever trust him the same way?
       And just as I was weighing the two options in a lather, rinse,
repeat, I made the decision to table the decision. The only thing I decided
for sure was that the next time I made a choice, I would stick to it for
life. Of that, I was positive I could do.
       Forty-five minutes and one designer suit later, I loaded myself and
the multiple thousand dollars worth of clothing I was wearing into the
backseat of a black town car.
       "Any idea where we're going?" I asked the driver.
       "Mr. Pallendrino gave me strict instructions not to say a word,
Mr. Carpenter," the driver said in a thick French accent. Chase would have
a French chauffeur, I thought.
       As the car drove, I noticed I was getting closer and closer to the
center of Victory Park just north of downtown. From what I knew about the
area and how I was dressed, I inferred one thing. When the driver stopped
right outside the Reunion Tower, my suspicions were confirmed.
       I stepped out of the car and in the distance, I saw Chase standing
there, holding a single red rose, dressed in a suit as elegant and
expensive as mine.
       "You didn't," I said as I approached him, unable to stop grinning. A
maitre d' opened the door behind Chase as I approached and walked right
into his strong hug.
       "I did, Gamin," he said. "I told you I wouldn't quit trying."
       It was unreal in that he remembered everything down to the last
detail.
       "That was the cheesiest fantasy date I have ever seen on this show,"
he said, jabbing me in the gut as I rolled over and clicked off The
Bachelor. It had been our Monday night ritual during the fall. Whereas,
Chase had practice until well into the night for the rest of the week,
Monday nights were his cool down nights, and the only evenings we got to
spend together. It was no wonder we spent them in bed, eating take out and
watching something as corny as The Bachelor.
       "I know it's corny and stupid, but come on. If someone did that for
you, tell me you wouldn't cream your pants?" I said.
       I wasn't one to get overly sentimental when it came to romantic
gestures, but what we'd just seen was brilliant. The bachelor, granting his
favorite girl a dream date, emptied out one of the most elegant restaurants
in Greece for the night. The place was deserted and lit with a million
candles. They spent the entire night ooing and awing over one another until
he finally gave her a rose and they made their way to a private suite where
the cameras finally left them alone.
       "Well, gamin, you and I don't need a fancy restaurant do we?" he
asked, climbing on top of me, covering me completely with his rock hard
body.
       "And we don't need a stupid rose," he said, planting a kiss on my
lips, almost too light to feel. But it was there, and so was he. I closed
my eyes and let him lightly trace his tongue down my neck.
       "We don't need a fancy hotel suite," he whispered as he passed my
nipple and traced down my stomach with his lips.
       "We don't need a fantasy date, do we, gamin?" he asked. My torso
writhed as he lightly made his way down to my beltline. He looked up at me,
expecting an answer and I smiled.
       "We don't need any of that," I said with a grin. "But it sure would
be nice."
       I winked and a second later, he pounced back on top of me and kissed
me hard, forcing an adolescent giggle out of me. It was those moments I
remembered, I thought. Not the moments that followed.
       "This is too much," I said as we stepped out of the elevator and
into the circular dining room. A waiter handed us each a glass of champagne
and ushered us to the center of the room. The place was deserted, every
table empty except for the one in the very center. We sat down and watched
the room begin to move ever so slowly; in one hour, we would have completed
a full rotation, seeing the entire city of Dallas in 360 degrees from
above.
       "I told you I would do anything to get your attention, gamin," he
said quietly. I took in a deep breath and willed myself to enjoy my
date. There was no way that Kyle could permeate this fantasy.
       And just when I thought I was about to spend the perfect date with
the perfect man, the man who'd won the great shampoo debate, my phone rang.
       "I'm sorry," I said. "I'm really sorry."
       I opened my phone with the intention to turn it off. When I saw that
the number calling was Britney's, I looked at Chase. He nodded the go ahead
and I opened it.
       "Britney?"
       "Hey, Coop, it's Sebastian," my friend said on the other
line. "Look, I hate to scare you like this, but we have a serious problem
here. Devon is on her way over, and I think you should come too."
       "Bass, what happened?" I asked.
       "Just get down here, buddy, and I'll explain when you do," he
said. His tone was even, but stressed. I knew it was serious if he was
asking me to drive all the way to the suburbs without telling me why.
       I hung up, and looked into the eyes of the perfect man and told him
I had to cancel our perfect date.


I hope you're enjoying the series so far. More to come soon. As always,
comments and reviews are the only currency for Nifty writers, so your
feedback good or bad is always greatly appreciated. Contact me at
jwolf24450@gmail.com. Thanks again for reading my story!