My Best Man by Andy Schell (unputdownable books .txt) 📗

around Amity while she coos in my grasp and. bats her eyelashes at Winston.

“Well done,” Winston says, reaching out his hand. I extend mine to shake, but I realize he’s talking to Amity. ;

“Thank you,” Amity says, shaking it in triumph. “I look forward

“

to knowing you.

“I’m calling your aunt Shirley!” my mother says, running into the house like a bird on fire. Energized by her triumph, Amity turns to me and suggests, “Let’s take a stroll through the yard.” She takes me by the and leads me away. Winston lowers himself onto the chaise longue, disgusted, while Donald rights his chair, shakes his head, and tends to the other birds on fire, the game hens on the grill.

“I can’t believe you did that,” I whisper, not angry but stupefied, i

“Just keep walking, Bubba,” Amity whispers back.

The yard is impeccably manicured, no longer by gardeners, my

mother has told me, but by Donald. Amity makes it appear we’re walking arm in arm, young lovers on a saunter through the garden, but it’ smore like she’ san attendant in a psychiatric hospital, holding up the dazed patient on her arm, lest he fall face first into a pyracantha bush from the news he’s getting married before he’s even been discharged. We stroll past native grasses and sunflowers, marigolds and impatiens, petunias and geraniums, past the new water fountain, past the ancient oak and sycamore trees at the edge of the property, and when we’re out of earshot, almost to the edge of the fairway, Amity says sincerely, “I’m sorry, Harry. I had to do it. Your brother is gayer than you’ll ever be.”

I knew it! I’ve always known it! I hadn’t told her that he was mostly because he’s never come out, even to me. And it’s only been a sense I’ve had never confirmed by anyone. And I knew she’d tell me if she sensed it, because Amity’s not-so-remote detection is as sharp as any gay guy’ s. I can see she is blown out of the water by this unexpected grasp of Winston. “Do you think so?” I ask innocently.

“I know so, Bubba. That boy’s about as straight as a circle jerk in a bathhouse!”

My eyes grow wide. “How do you know what goes on in a bathhouse?”

“Never mind!” she answers, the whites of her eyes flashing. “Listen, Harry. I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t let that bona fide queer take all your heterosexual money. It would be as ironic as a Baptist beauty pageant.”

I can smell the stagnant water from the pond by the sixteenth hole of the golf course. “I’ve carded these doubts around for years, but deep down I think I’ve always known. None of my friends has ever met him because Winston and I keep such distance between us, so I’ve never had anyone who could make an analysis.”

“He’s gay,” Amity says. “How can you stand it? Why don’t you expose him?”

“What am I supposed to do, ask his girlfriend if his dick tastes like shit?”

“His girlfriend isn’t Patty, but some guy named Pat, I guarantee you.”

“What difference does it make? He can live his life any way he wants. If he’s willing to deny what he is and live a lie just for money, then that’s his own miserable business. I’ve never wanted that kind of a life, and he knows it. It’s why he hates me.” “Misery wants company?”

“You got it. God,” I laugh, watching a foursome tee off in the distance, “are we really doing this? Are we getting married?”

“We can’t turn back now,” Amity says forcefully. Then she changes expression. “Unless you want. I can write your momma a note after we return to Dallas. Tell her we decided to call it off. Is that what you want, Harry?” she asks, searching my eyes for a clue.

“My mother’s probably in the house calling all her friends, booking the church, the caterers, the photographer. It’ll be in the

Eagle-Beacon tomorrow.”

“What’s that?”

“The local paper.” I pause. “My mother will make this huge.” “And we’ll laugh through the whole thing,” Amity promises. She rubs my back in circles with her palm. “Don’t worry, Harry. We’ll pull it off.”

The foursome drives away in their little golf carts. “I’ve always known in my heart that Winston was gay. But he’s so powerful, And mean. He was mean as a kid, and he’s mean as an adult. I think I knew the day he ratted on me to my father that I was sucking my baseball hot dog like it was a dick.”

Amity bursts out laughing.

“I’m serious,” I contend. “He recognized too well what was going on. He totally understood my desires. They were his only he was successful at masking them. He somehow fooled Father.

And Mother. And most everyone else. But he hasn’t fooled you. And he knows it. You better watch out, Amity. Those handsome queers are the most vicious.”

She says nothing more, but wears her smile like a weapon.

That night, in the bedroom next to Winston’ s, Amity takes great pleasure in seducing me, not even asking me if I want to do this. There’s something weird for me about being naked in front of a girl. I’m slightly uncomfortable for her to be looking at me with lust, which is probably the way a straight guy feels in a locker room when he knows another guy is looking at him. But unlike the straight guy in the locker room who can quickly put his clothes on and leave, I have nowhere to go. We lie down on the bed, and she brings her face to mine. As on our layover in Denver, it feels strange to kiss Amity’s soft, feminine lips. It doesn’t do the trick for me, but she’s forceful tonight, so animal in the way she has sex that, after a few minutes, I’m spurred forcedminto action. Meaning, she’s a great top, staying in control, filling my emotional void with friction, keeping me going when necessary with her hands and