Date: Sun, 09 Sep 2001 20:13:22 -0700 From: Josh Heilig Subject: What You Won't Do for Love 02 What You Won't Do for Love, Chapter 2 By JoshBabe This work contains depictions of homosexuality. If that is illegal in your jurisdiction, please, do not continue reading this. This work is copyright (c) 2001 by JoshBabe. You may download and keep an unlimited number of copies for personal use, but this work may not be used under any circumstances without the prior consent of the author with the exception of a personal copy. Aesthetic changes (font size, font face, whitespace) do not constitute a change that requires the author's permission; any non-whitespace changes to the actual text of the story require prior permission. WHAT YOU WON'T DO FOR LOVE, CHAPTER TWO I left off leaving for Ira's party, if I remember correctly. If we assume that's true, well, I'll just summarize and then pick it up from there. I was at the Kennedy High Homecoming Assembly, on a beautiful and unusually sunny October day in Oregon, in my little town of Forestdale, when the cross- country team captain, named Alex Wright, caught my eye. At that point, I had a girlfriend named Julie, an attractive cheerleader; I was popular and intelligent; but I had never thought of myself as attracted to men, I guess. I spent the rest of my day questioning myself, thinking about Alex, and then I went home, decided I was bisexual, and came out to my mom over dinner, explaining the circumstances under which I had come to my conclusion. My best friend Ira invited me over to a party at his house, and while I was out buying soda to bring to Ira's, I got hit on at the grocery store by another guy, James, and got his phone number. My mom pulled some serious strings and discovered that Alex would be at the party, and when I came home, she told me and I spent way more time than usual primping myself for the party. I was on my way over to Ira's when I concluded the last chapter. The radio was tuned up and ready to go in Mom's car, a signature that only I could leave it with. I had accidentally left it on a real station, none of that sappy stuff she liked, but I was fine with that this evening. The sounds of KGON, the local classic rock station, were almost vibrating the frame of the car, which was cool by me. I loved the feel of the road as the tires hummed their way from the farthest edge of Forestdale to Spring Valley, about three miles away, where Ira lived. Basically, if you drove up the hill on 53rd from Miller, and then headed down into the next valley over, you were in Spring Valley. It was a pretty cool place, still mostly small farms and old farmhouses that had since been sold. Remember what I said about Portland? It's cool that way. The shadows panned in and out of the sunroof as I cruised up to the top of 53rd and then started the long, winding descent into Spring Valley. Ira's parents were pre-dot-com tech people who had moved to Portland about ten years ago to work for Tektronix, and they picked their house because they liked the way it felt like being in a small little town. They had their own little grocery store, and a couple of other small businesses, although it wasn't like Forestdale. Finally, I came around this massive last curve and felt the road sliding downhill again, and there I was at Ira's, at the very bottom of the valley itself. Talk about a happening event -- he had cars lined up all up and down the street, parked all over, and people were walking in and out constantly in droves. I almost felt ridiculous for taking a single car, most of these people lived a lot closer than I did... the other big party was in Forestdale, and we tended to segregate based on where we lived. But I'd known Ira for forever, and so I wasn't going to miss the chance to go to his party -- and I sure wasn't going to miss the chance to see, and maybe meet, Alex. I snapped my head around quickly, as I pulled into my place of honor in the garage. He always let me park there... I even had a garage door opener. His parents never used it. Wait. Was that a Land Rover pulling in? Wow. Talk about a cool vehicle... did he know someone that went to St. Andrew's? That was the only way I could foresee a teenager with the family resources to own a $45,000 car. Or maybe it was a parent's. Didn't matter, this car barely cost us $25,000 and it still put me substantially above most of the people I went to school with. And then I saw something I didn't expect to see. Alex, and this cute kid with spiky brown-black hair, stepped out of the Rover, which was, for the sake of description, a nice dark blue. Wow. What a find. Not only is he a knockout, but he's also got money. Oh, wait, I said to myself. Isn't that what men hate so much about women? Who says we don't do the same thing? Then I added silently, I want to go into journalism, though, I need to find me a wealthy woman -- or, I amended, man, at that. I went around and walked through the front door of Ira's house, and stepped into the foyer, and suddenly I could feel the place just vibrating with energy, with bodies and motion, and -- disco. Wow. I hope Ira's not overdoing it. Sure, everyone loves disco, and it's the best way to get down and funky with some hot ladies -- or Alex Wright -- but at the same time, it is '70s music, or '80s music, or whatever. But all of that beside, I thought for a moment and decided to ask Ira if he could point me in Alex's direction -- I'd interview him, run a feature on him in the next Cold Warrior. Oooh, and then I could keep all the pictures that get taken during the candid "official interview". Yummy. I figured that enough time had passed between Alex's entrance and mine that he would be somewhere in the party at that point. I was wrong, as it turned out. Ira was "holding court," if you will, in the living room, a Coke in one hand and a blonde chick in the other. "Hey, Josh! What's up, man? Bring those sodas like I asked, amigo?" he called, pulling the blonde into his lap, and setting his soda between their legs. She giggled. I took in the redecoration he had tastefully put over his parents' dining-room mural -- cool posters, and that kind of stuff. I raised my hand in salutation, and called back, "Hey, Ira, my man! Awesome party you've got going here! Who's the babe?" "Heather, Josh; Josh, Heather." He made a couple little gestures. She giggled again and I nodded in her direction. "I got the sodas for you, man -- they're in the car. I got a trade for you -- I want to interview Alex Wright," my knees quaked as I said the name, "and you will be able to figure out where he is better than I can," I told him flatly. He grinned again, and said, "Sorry, man, he's still outside. Either that, or he's broken the cardinal rule of my parties: Always pay a visit to the host." I nodded back and he whispered something in Heather's ear, and she blushed. He pushed her off, waved regally at all of us, -- oh yeah, there were about fifteen in the living room, just chilling -- and headed up the steps. Gee, I wonder where Ira was headed with Heather. How wonderful it is to think that all your best friend sees in women is a body to fuck. Or at least that was the impression that he was giving off -- it's not like he was really serious about her, or he'd've given me a little more personal introduction, you know? So that being that, I headed off, to go find Alex. See, now I was really driven to meet him -- and what better way than to run a feature which I'd written? I would have, of course, to hope that he really was a star and not some kind of wannabe. I headed outdoors first, gazed longingly at the beautiful car, the Rover. Then I saw him, sitting there in the driver's seat, music on at nearly full blast, with some guy next to him who looked pretty similar -- probably a brother. Not the guy with the spiky-brown hair, interestingly. How was I going to do this? Palms sweaty and heart pounding with excitement, I made my way over to the car and pushed my way through the admirers surrounding it. There were people lounging inside, sodas or beers -- I couldn't tell -- in hand, and the doors were open. Inside, there was rap or hip-hop or something akin playing; I don't know which. So I just tapped him on the shoulder and shouted, "Hey, man, Ira sent me out here to find out if you want to come in the party." He grinned. It was like watching the sun rise over the mountains, totally heartfelt and warm, and enveloped his entire face. My knees practically gave in at the sight. "Oh, yeah, man, lemme just bump these morons out and get the car locked up and we'll go in. Will you wait here a minute? I know the rules of the house." "Sure, man," I said. Actually, I didn't say it, but I sure like hell tried. Nothing would come out, so overwhelmed with delight was I that he wanted me to stick with him. So I just nodded, which really meant the same thing, right? "Cool." I watched as he cut the radio off, swatted out of the car all the people in the back, pushed his brother out the door and then closed the doors and locked up. He clapped me on the back and said, "I'm Alex, although I think you already know that, and you are...?" "Josh." This time, I managed to produce a word. He looked at me. "Heilig? Like, the sports editor kid, in the Cold Warrior?" "Yeah." I knew we should have used photos to go with bylines. "Cool." I started grasping for straws, as we were geting closer to the house by the minute. "Cool car you've got, Alex," I said, managing not only to say a word but to construct a complete sentence in his presence. It was hard, but somehow I pulled it off. "Thanks. It's my dad's. Usually, I only get to drive my mom's old car, a Volvo agon. Pretty new, though, so I can't complain." I shrugged. "So you're the Alex from the cross-country team, right? Alex Wright?" He gave me another one of those grins, and I gazed straight into those perfect brown eyes. Fuck. He'll get freaked out if I start coming on to him. I broke my gaze, being hyper-paranoid about this whole business still, and smiled back, although I know it's a hell of a lot less impressive a sight. "I was thinking, you know, of doing a feature on you next month. Figure it'd go well with this month's." "Who'd you talk to?" "Sharon Kell, from the soccer team..." "I know Sharon, man... she lives just down the street from me." Well. Now I know where you live, too; we did the candid at her house, after school. But on to more immediate matters. "Would you mind if we did a prelim interview tonight?" He thought for a moment. "Shit. I was supposed to hook up with somebody tonight, but no biggie." "Cool. Thanks a bunch, man!" I said, and sincerely at that, which was unusual for a journalist. We're usually really good at flattery, to get what we want out of a subject, but not terribly good at the whole business of being honest. It's generally a bad idea. He thought a moment. "I know it's a little weird- sounding, but do you have your camera? We could even do the candid if we have time -- word has it Paul is coming tonight." What he meant was, since you don't have a clue who Paul is, is that our photographer, who was something of a local legend, might be up from Eugene, where he was going to the University of Oregon, and could shoot. I held up my hand, to stop, you know, and then I told him, "I'd better check in my trunk, but I think so. Come with me, man, and we can talk a little first. You know, get a feel for where to go -- and where not to - - in the interview." "Cool." And I guess that was that. We talked a whole bunch about a number of things, including league rivalries and teachers whose classes to avoid. Luckily, I still had hope, we hadn't mentioned girls once. Only, what would I do if we did? (Or if we didn't? It's not like I had this "being attracted to guys" business down pat! 'Sides, so far, he was the only one I'd been attracted to.) But I've digressed off the plot. It turned out my camera -- well, not mine, really, I'm a terrible photographer, but the newspaper's -- was in the car, and thus we took it, went into Ira's brother's room after fighting our way through the throngs in the party, and started. (Ira's brother was elsewhere, being only 8.) I noted distastefully the awful bright blue that the room had been painted clashed hideously with the olive-green furniture. Poor kid. My other complaint was hearing Ira and Heather next door, faintly but clearly. God! You're not rabbits, people! Calm down! OK. Again, I've digressed. Our interview went reasonably well, and it gave me a lot of appreciation for the mind behind the gorgeous face, and, while it was a typically 'athletic' mind at times, it had some unexpected curves, too. Now that I actually knew the guy, I could have a crush on him. I have a cardinal rule: No falling for strangers. The interview went something like this, and I'm including it in a Rolling Stone-style format slightly modified for the needs of plaintext. Keep in mind, this is just the interesting bits. Josh: So, the world knows you're a senior, 17 or 18, tall, blonde, popular, athletic, and -- by the looks of the car out front -- not hurting in the fiscal department. How do you differ from the 77 million other guys who fit that description? A: Well, you know, dude, it's like, they're just copying me anyway. (Laughter) Seriously, uhh... well, I do a lot of other stuff outside of school and sports. I volunteer at the Humane Society, working with lost dogs. I volunteered to work for Ralph Nader's campaign... J: So you'll be the reason we lose? A: They don't want registered Democrats, evidently. (Laughter) Other things? I dunno. I hate rap. J: What do you call what was playing in your car earlier? A: My brother's music. J: So what do you listen to? A: Off the record, since this is really embarrassing, but ... I love Rosie 105. J: Eww! OK. Sorry. That was a value statement. What's your favorite song? A: The Santana song, "Smooth". You know, the one with... J: Rob Thomas. From Matchbox 20. A: Yeah. Well, at least we're on the same wavelength. Great song. J: I love Santana, ... but I prefer the more dated stuff. You know. "Oye Como Va," that kind of thing. A: Whatever, man. I don't know any of his old stuff. J: Sacrilege! Anyway, before the audience pukes, let's move on-- ... Why the Humane Society? I understand the whole "I help out dogs because they're cute and fuzzy and look pretty" business -- I got that from Sharon last month-- (Laughter) But seriously, why dogs? Why not trees, or rhinoceroses, or depressed people? A: Well, dogs give something back emotionally. It's like, I get the love of 20 dogs a day and they give it unequivocally. Every time I've tried to love someone, I always have these strings attached, something getting in the way-- popularity, good looks, money, sex, ... overriding themes of high school. But a dog loves you no matter what. You can't say that about a tree. Or a rhinoceros, I don't think. J: Probably not. OK, fair enough. Next question-- You mentioned that you wanted to volunteer for Ralph Nader's campaign, and yet you weren't planning on voting for him from the sound of it. Why didn't you just volunteer for Adlai's -- I mean, Al's -- sorry, historical allusion -- campaign? A: Sabotage. J: Cool. I wish I could vote in this one. A: I turn 18 on November 5th, just in time to register on Monday and vote on Tuesday. Of course, it means I have to drive my ballot in, because of this vote-by- mail shit. J: I don't think I can publish that word, man. A: So don't. I'm sure there are suitable words that you can replace it with. ... J: What's the biggest influence in your life? Or, alternatively, who? You can answer either. A: My dad. He's always been there to help, console, teach, love, trust, and coach, plus lend a car. ... (Laughter) J: Do you have a favorite book? A: _The City and the Pillar_, by Gore Vidal. It's this really profound exploration of what it means to be gay and not be a flaming drag-queen type, but just, like, an ordinary guy. Gave me some insight as to how to treat the other 10%. J: How did you come across it? A: I'm a big Gore Vidal fan. I saw it at Powell's one day and picked it up. ... J: OK, final question -- In just one word, how would you describe yourself? A: Umm. Damn, that's hard. Can I make it three? J: Sure, why not? I'll pretend I originally said "three". A: Cool. 'Do what's right.' J: That's four. A: No, 'cool' isn't part of it. J: Ah. Well, that concludes this. ... So, you see, he really blew me away at times. My knees got weak, well, especially weak, at the mention of _The City and the Pillar_, and I was hoping he's at least got some sympathy for my interest, even if it wasn't reciprocated. As it so happened, that's my favorite book, too; I read it on Meredith's recommendation, when we were freshmen. On the way out, his hand even brushed up against mine, and lingered there for a second or two. It sent shivers down my spine, and I thought I would collapse for a second or two, except that would have been really super-obvious. Was he interested? Nah. Couldn't be. But he did let his hand stay there. Or he didn't notice, unlike you -- specifically one part. Shit, can he see it? I doubt it, under all these layers of clothes. Hey, I like these clothes. Well, you didn't ask me first, before you picked 'em. Either way... he's not interested. He's straight. Gotta be. Or in denial. Mmmn, wouldn't that be nice? Quit daydreaming! You're on a staircase. Unfortunately for me, Paul never did make it to the party. 'Sides, I don't think Mr. Hyle, our newspaper adviser, would have let me run photos from a party for the candid. They would have made great file photos at home, though, if you know what I mean... As I headed down the steps, just a step or two ahead of Alex, I saw my friends Jessica and Meredith, who had always been close, peering up at me on the steps. "Josh! What's up?" Meredith shot at me, excited as always. I nodded appreciatively, and then tossed in, above the din, "I was just interviewing Alex here for a feature for the paper." Letting myself turn around on the steps, I gestured at who was below, and said, "Alex, these are my friends Jessica and Meredith. Jackson is, well, not into the 'immorality of parties', and Ira is, as you heard, enjoying himself upstairs, but that's basically the whole gang." He flashed that smile that made my heart pound, my knees quaver and my legs stop cold in their tracks, and said, "Pleasure to meet you, ladies." Meredith, the lesbian, was blissfully immune to that magical expression -- or at least, didn't notice it, Alex being a male -- but I saw Jessica swoon. Damn. We started heading down the steps again, and the roar of the music and the sounds of sungar and/or alcohol- high teens became overwhelming. I motioned to Alex to follow me, and we exchanged phone numbers, on Ira's back porch. He flashed me one more stunning grin, and then I headed back inside. OK, so maybe I have a crush on him. And? And what? Whaddya gonna do about it? Don't use that voice with me! Why not? It's mine too! This is ridiculous. You started it! No, I think Alex started it. Whatever. "Josh! Are you OK, dude?" It was Meredith. I pondered. "Yeah. I was just zoned out, is all," I reassured her. "Why?" "I've fallen for another impossibility." "What?!? You want to give up the last conquered impossibility? They don't come any more good-looking than Julie, Josh!" she cried, rather loudly. "I mean, geez!" "Uhh..." She laughed. "No way! Better?" "Uhh..." I carefully selected the best word, before continuing my statement. "Different, is all." Meredith frowned. Suddenly I heard my mom's voice: "I've known for a long time, honey." I decided to tell her. "Meredith, I... I... uhh... I'm bisexual." I saw her smile. She clapped me on the back. "Good for you! I'm proud of you for being able to tell me." Then she gave me a hug. "It's not the end of the world." But I was already in panic mode, and a look of horror had struck me on the face. -- Or so I'm told; I couldn't exactly see it. -- Anyway, I was panicking. "What's the matter, hon?" she asked me, so I turned her around. Standing in the door to the porch were Alex and Jessica, the one -- the most beautiful being in existence, as far as I was concerned -- looking stupefied, and the other with a face probably mirroring mine. "Oh God! Now I'm screwed!" I cried out, and ran as fast as I could. Somehow, I made it to my car, and got in and locked the doors, and broke down crying. Not exactly my idea of a good ending to a day that had already been pretty rough, in retrospect. Pretty soon, I heard a tapping at the window. A concerned Meredith and Jessica, with Ira and Alex in the background, were standing at the window. "Josh? Josh! Open the door now!" Meredith commanded. Reluctantly, I complied, and instantly Jessica thrust a few Kleenexes at me. "Thanks," I sniffled, wiping my eyes and then blowing my nose. "OK, we need to talk, bud. This disappearing-act bit didn't work... why are you screwed?" asked Jessica. "What's this all about?" "What was that look you flashed me all about?" She chuckled. "You and Meredith were in a reasonably compromising position, under circumstances I'd call more than reasonably compromising. I mean, I figured, she _is_ a lesbian, right?" Meredith beamed. "So what's all this fuss about?" Jessica persisted. Fuck. Now I'd have to tell them. I wouldn't've if I hadn't run. "Jessica, I'm ... bisexual. That's what I was telling Meredith." A grin got thrown my way, from Meredith. "See? It just gets easier every time." Jessica just nodded. "OK. Not what I was expecting. But that's cool." >From in the distance, Ira approached, Alex in tow, the two both looking puzzled. I heard my best friend say, although it didn't really register, "And?" I faltered, so Meredith covered for me. "Josh is bisexual. Oh, and if you ever tell a soul, until he says otherwise," and she smiled sweetly, "I will cut your balls off. Either of you. I'm a lesbian, don't doubt I see little value in them." I actually thought it would be a shame to see Alex have to lose his balls, but hopefully, it wouldn't be a problem, you know? Ira nodded. "Cool. 'Double the pleasure, double the fun...'" he hummed the old Double Mind jingle. Meredith glared at him. Then I heard the other door, on the passenger side, open; I felt my head moving involuntarily; and I suddenly saw Alex there. I moved my head towards him, and we kissed. Whoa. Laughter and applause rippled through our audience of three. WHAT YOU WON'T DO FOR LOVE, CHAPTER TWO CLIFFHANGER Now that everyone in the group besides Jackson knows that Josh is bi, what's going to happen? Is Meredith going to need to cut anyone's balls off? Why did Alex kiss Josh? Does he really like him, or is he just being nice? What about James? We still haven't heard from Julie! COMMENTS FROM THE AUTHOR Hey, guys. Sorry the last chapter was so long, but I kind of get carried away with my own descriptions sometimes. This one's shorter. Give me your feedback, please... send them to joshbabe22@hotmail.com. Flames will go to /dev/null.