Page 45 of Tito

Tito

Afew minutes before closing time, I stood just inside the entrance to The Buckle while Reggie helped a young woman select a pair of cut-off shorts from the display. Stealing nervous glances at me as each opportunity presented itself, she smiled and joked while holding various pairs of the skimpy denim garments for the woman to inspect.

“Hey, Taddeo,” Raymond said from behind me.

Focused completely on Reggie, his voice startled me. I turned to face him. He looked especially gaunt and overly happy to see me. I wondered how much of his sunken-cheek look was obtained by the makeup he wore.

“What’s going on?”

He lifted a button-down shirt and looked it over. “Oh, nothing much. Just trying to clothe the words heterosexual men with shirts like this awful specimen without laughing hysterically when they try them on. How’s the car wash business?”

I laughed. “She told you what I do for a living?”

“She tells me everything.”

I grinned. “Good to know.”

He glanced at Reggie, and then at me. “Did she tell you everything?”

“Tell me everything about what?”

“About her ex?”

“She said they just broke up.”

He clasped his hands together. “Did she tell you why?”

“I didn’t ask.”

He glanced over each shoulder before looking right at me. “He had sex with a stripper,” he whispered. “In the parking lot of the strip club.”

“Oh. Wow,” I coughed. “That ought to do it.”

He leaned close enough to kiss me. “He knew her.”

“Knew who?”

“The nasty stripper,” he whispered. “He said they were, like, best friends.”

“Maybe it wasn’t a one-time thing,” I said. “If they were friends.”

He leaned away and looked me over. “I know, right? That’s exactly what I was thinking. I never liked him. Not even a little bit. They had a barbeque a few years ago in their back yard, which, by the way, is huge. Reggie used it to burn everything that stripper-fucker Jared left in the house. The cops came. To the fire, no the barbeque. Anyway, back to the barbeque, he—Jared—cooked sausages, ribs, hamburgers, and I don’t know, some other stuff. Whatever it is that people barbeque. He had everything. When I went to get my food, he said, ‘watch Raymond, he’ll get a wiener, he loves them.’ Everyone laughed. I didn’t tell Reggie, but now I regret it. I thought it was rude. I mean, I’m not a closet gay by any means, but really?” He rolled his eyes. “He didn’t need to say that.”

“You’re right,” I said. “He didn’t.”

“Does it bother you?”

“That he said what he said?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said. “But, yeah.”

“I think it was uncalled for, and rude,” I responded.

“It doesn’t bother you that I’m gay?”

“Does it bother you that I’m not?”

He smirked. “Actually, maybe a little bit.”