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“What kind?” the young lady asked.
“Sorry?”
“The tattoo on his nose. What kind was it that he had to get covered up?” She put both elbows on the thick glass to stare at me. She had really pretty brown eyes. Thick lashes. Not quite as pretty as Henry’s eyes, but…mother humper. There he was again! Showing up right in the middle of a nice talk with a pretty girl. I’d have to call in an exorcist soon to rid my skull of that man’s face.
“Oh, well, it was a crude one. He’d been drunk, young, and on shore leave while serving in the Navy, so you know…” I shrugged as I forced the image of Henry out of my head to watch the boxers. The sparring match was over now it seemed, as both men, one a gorgeous tall Black man and the other a Black dude who looked a great deal like the other man in the ring, were bumping gloves. “So yeah, it was a manly appendage that he’d had inked on his face. His shipmates talked him into it, which wasn’t hard since Petrocci was a lightweight when it came to drinking. Hand to the Virgin’s dainty sandals, my grandma Rosie once drunk him under the table at a birthday party.”
“But…I’m confused,” she said, her brows knitted. “If he got the tattoo when he was in the Navy, why did his grandmother call him a rotten mango when he was a baby?”
“Oh, well, he had this birthmark right smack dab on his nose.” I tapped the bridge of mine as the front door opened and two more guys walked in. “It kind of looked like Mickey Rooney wearing a beret if you squinted and twisted your head to the left. Oh hey, there’s Bean. Thanks for helping me find him…what is your name?”
“Etta,” she replied. “You’ll need a guest pass unless you’re a member, and I’m pretty sure I would remember you if I’d seen you before.”
“Yeah, all the ladies, and most of the men, remember Greck. I’d like to join. Bean! Yo, Bean!” I shouted at my team captain. Everyone in the gym turned to stare at Carson as he exited the men’s locker room. His face went beet red. “See how he blushes. Ain’t that cute? Such a vanilla bean.”
I signed up, scanned my debit card for a year’s fee, and then jogged over to Bean, who was sitting on a stationary bike with his arms folded on the handles and his brow on his forearms.
“Hey, thanks for grabbing us some bikes and for letting me know about this gym. I love the esthetic of the place. That’s the right word, yeah? Esthetic. The vibe. I used to always love watching them old fights with Grandma Rosie. Talk about being a rabid fan! Hey, you okay, buddy? You got a headache? I got one too. Big one. About as tall as you but Frencher. Gimme five to change. Don’t go nowhere, okay?”
He mumbled something that sounded like a yes, so I darted into the locker room to change. I took my refrigerated bag with me. Not that I worried that someone would steal my clothes but that bag was pretty nice. Kept your beer or soda cold for longer and who wouldn’t want that? Also, it had Tarcy Hayward’s autograph on it, so double the value easily. When I jogged back to our bikes, my team captain was still in the same position. I tapped his head and then climbed onto my bike to pedal away the Frenchman who had moved into my thoughts. Talk about role reversal.
Bean lifted his head, his sight moving slowly to me as he sighed dramatically. “I was going to ask why you call me Bean in public,” he began to say. I opened my mouth to reply but he held up a finger. “I know why. It’s my name. It’s been a few weeks since anyone called me that.”
“Nice to be back home, huh?” I asked as I picked a nice-looking road in France to pedal through.
Thought we were getting away from all things Henry?
I did not choose France because of someone who was French. I chose it because I like French fries. Go pound sand.
“It is, yeah, but being away with Criswell and Benji was a blast. Fossie has some amazing acreage in the woods.”
“Did you get into any trouble with bears or moose?” I asked, eyeballing the views as I began to climb the Pyrénées. “I once saw this show that cited that moose kill more people than sharks, which was, you know, hard to buy, but then they said most of the killed were in cars, and then I was like, sure, that makes sense. You don’t see many sharks darting out in front of your Honda.”
“Not a one to my knowledge,” Bean said and then chuckled. “I did miss you, Greck. So, how’s things at the chalet?” My body reacted like someone had it hot-wired to a tractor battery. A jolt of lust shot right to my balls as my traitorous brain brought back that garage kiss in explosive technicolor. I pedaled faster. “Did I hit a sore spot?”
“No, nope, nothing sore at all.” My calves would be if I kept up this pace. “Things at the chalet are trays magnifeets.” I cringed at the pronunciation, then sped up even more. “Nothing to report from the chalet. All is good. Great. Golden. Platinum. That’s better than gold, right?”
“Platinum is denser than gold. Dad, me, and Criswell watched a show on the Discovery Channel about various…are you trying to blow a hamstring or something?” I slowed instantly, the muscles in my thighs screaming in thanks. “Okay, so what’s wrong? You’re acting weird.”
I pulled my palm over my sweaty brow. The two Black guys who had been boxing were now at the desk, talking to Etta, and it was obvious they were all related. Closely. Like maybe triplets or something. What a trio of good-looking people. Good god damn.
“I just…we had a little thing happen in the garage,” I confessed, pulling my sight from the trio at the register to peek at Bean as he pedaled along placidly beside me.
“What happened? Did you lose a lug nut from one of his fancy cars?”
“No, no, I don’t ever lose lug nuts. I make sure they’re put on good. Like needing a breaker bar to get them suckers off tight.”
Bean studied me as only a captain can. They got this vision that cuts right through the BS to the heart of the matter. They had to because it was up to them to keep the team running like polished silver. Not that this was a team matter but me and Bean and Sunny and Basky and Fossie were close. Closer than most because we shared the amazingness of being queer.
“Okay, so this is just between you and me,” I said, my voice lowered while my legs pumped along steadily. I glanced left and right. No one was within hearing range. “Me and Henry might have kissed.”
“You kissed Henry?” Bean asked loudly, his foot slipping off his pedal as several people on treadmills glanced my way. He hurried to recover.
“Why don’t you say it louder so the old folks twisting to the oldies in the other room can hear you?” I snapped, my cheeks hot with embarrassment, something that didn’t generally happen to me all that much. Took a lot to make Phil Greco flush pink. “It wasn’t all me anyways. It was both of us. An angry kiss.”
“Oh, he was angry at you. That I can see,” he said and winked. “I’m kidding of course.”
“Nah, hey, I know I can be a little pestiferous at times. Ma taught me that word. She has a word of the day calendar on her phone, and when that one come up, she said she thought of me.”
