Chapter 2

“You,” he purrs. “How’s work going?”

Another laugh, because it’s still early in

the day and Richard probably hasn’t had any clients yet. He’s a

salesman for a company that CJ’s never heard of, selling things he

isn’t sure he understands. Frames and displays and shelves for

trade shows. CJ has never been to a show, though Richard has

offered to take him. In CJ’s mind, they’re something like Star

Trekconventions, only without the fun. When his lover has to

travel to these shows, CJ tags along because he doesn’t like to

sleep alone and he’ll go to the hotel ballrooms to help Richard set

up his own displays, but that’s about it. During the actual show,

CJ hitches a ride to the local mall, board in hand, in search of

fellow skaters. He usually doesn’t have to look too hard—he’s been

at this long enough, he knows where to find them, outside the food

court or hanging around the arcade, the video game store, the top

level of the parking deck. A trade show of his own, where he shows

off his moves and learns new techniques. Once he broke his wrist,

fell flat on his arm and had to be rushed to the hospital in a city

whose name he doesn’t remember. He didn’t even know the name of

their hotel, but one of the nurses knew about the trade show

because her husband ran concessions and she managed to get in touch

with his guy. Richard rushed into the emergency room like a worried

father and, just like a dad, once he realized that CJ was going to

be alright, he laid into him something fierce. “I shouldn’t bring

you to these things” and “You’re going to break your neck with that

goddamn board of yours” and “Do you even knowwhat all went

through my mind when they called my name out over the loudspeaker?

Jesus Christ,Ceej. You could’ve gotten yourself

killed.”

But that happened long ago. What, over the

summer? CJ pulls the blankets tighter around himself and listens to

his lover’s soft voice as Richard tells him, “It’s going fine so

far, babe, knock on wood. Did I wake you up?”

“You know you did.”

“Lazy.” The word is tinged with

affection. In his mind, CJ can see the smile that creases Richard’s

smooth face. He loves his guy. “So,” Richard asks, searching for

something to keep them talking a little while longer, “what are

your plans for today?”

CJ doesn’t know. He’s out of school, on his

own more or less, and his days stretch out endless before him like

pages in a blank journal, each one full of promise. He’s enrolled

at the local community college but hasn’t gotten around to taking

any classes yet. He doesn’t know what he’ll major in anyway. And he

doesn’t have a job—the last one was at a video store downtown but

it didn’t really work out. He doesn’t have a car, just his

skateboard—still, the bus runs right by that strip mall and he

showed up more or less on time for the first few days. Then the

manager decided she needed him to work nights and he told her no.

Richard works all day, the evenings are “their time.” And some

chick with a name badge wanted CJ to stand behind a counter until

ten or eleven at night? He didn’t think so. He told her he had to

be in by six, she put him down three to close, and he didn’t bother

to come in again. Fuck that. He’s not losing what he has of his guy

for a few measly bucks. Shit, Richard makes enough, they aren’t

starving, and he doesn’t harp on CJ for not working. At least he

takes care of the apartment now, mostly, though his idea of

straightening up means washing the dishes when he can’t find any

clean glasses and all the forks are in the sink. Rich is cool about

it, though. He knows CJ will find something.

In the meantime, he spends his days lounging

around the place, snacking or watching TV or running out to the

store if they need more chips. Wednesdays are his night to cook

dinner, which means they usually order pizza or subs. He does the

laundry when Richard’s out of underwear, irons his guy’s shirts on

the lowest heat setting possible so he won’t burn them (and usually

ends up ironing more wrinkles inthan out), runs a vacuum

over the floor and sweeps up when the cat knocks over its food bowl

in the kitchen. He plays video games—Richard doesn’t like them but

CJ is crazy for racers, he’s hell on wheels even if he doesn’t have

a car of his own—and he makes sure the place looks half decent by

the time his lover comes home. Some days, for something different,

he catches the bus and rides down to the park or the mall or the

comic shop, board tucked under his arm, in search of other

skaters.