A Love of My Own by E. Lynn Harris Page A

walked into the bar, carrying a box.
    â€œHayden, don’t embarrass me,” I warned. Hayden approached
any man
in whom he took an interest. It didn’t matter if the man was gay, bi, or straight. In fact, Hayden preferred men who were somewhat confused, and I had been captivated by his stories of seducing so-called straight men. When I protested, telling him if he had them they couldn’t be straight, he would tell me what he told them: As long as they messed around with only him, then they kept their straight status.
    Hayden didn’t have time for romance with gay men because he said they brought him too much drama and heartache. I knew his current dating strategy was just a phase he was going through and that one day he’d give true love a chance. I was also a little concerned that he had such an easy time meeting and having sex with men who were either married or living with a woman. I was comforted by Hayden’s promise that he wouldn’t let me date any man who swung both ways, and whenever I had a concern I made sure Hayden met the guy before I became intimate. I remember how mad Hayden was when I introduced him to Jabar and Hayden had to admit that he didn’t stand a ghost of a chance to get him to cross over, even for just one night.
    â€œSo how is my man?” Hayden asked.
    â€œWho?”
    â€œZola, don’t be coy with me. You know who I’m talking about.”
    â€œJabar?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œYou know I don’t see him but once a week. Twice if he’s lucky.” I smiled.
    â€œStop frontin’. If you get that dick twice a week, then we both know who the lucky one is,” Hayden said.
    â€œAs Jabar would say, ‘That’s what’s up,’” I said, laughing.
    â€œTell me about it. What time is it?” Hayden asked as he looked around the bar for a clock.
    I checked my cell phone and realized that it was almost seven-thirty. I gulped down my wine, dropped my phone in my bag, and told Hayden to drink up, that it was time for us to dash.
----
    From
Bling Bling
Confidential
    When Davis met Veronica Meadors during orientation at Harvard, it was love at first sight for him. For Veronica, the leggy beauty from Philadelphia it was love at fifth sight—once she learned from his close friend Seth, that Davis came from old money. She was even more interested when she discovered that both of Davis’s parents were deceased and there were no siblings to share his inheritance, which he would receive once he turned twenty-five. Since Veronica had her own trust fund, she decided she could wait.
----

6
__________________
    It was a humid Tuesday evening in early July, and I jumped from the taxi to the street and then through a gold and glass door. A nervous anticipation bounced in my stomach as I rode up the elevator with an attendant to Davis’s Fifth Avenue apartment. I wondered if I’d be dressed appropriately since I’d only changed my shirt and tie and had kept on the suit I’d worn to the office that day.
    Davis’s wife, Veronica, had insisted on giving a small dinner party for me to welcome me to New York City. I was hoping that Davis had told her I was gay so I wouldn’t have to spend the evening entertaining some beautiful woman she had invited just for me.
    When I reached the penthouse I took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. Seconds later, an older white man in a tux opened the beveled-glass door and greeted me with a very stately, “Welcome to the McClinton residence. And you would be?” as he looked me over from head to toe as if he were measuring me for a better suit.
    â€œI’m Raymond Tyler.”
    â€œYes sir, you’re the evening’s guest of honor. Please follow me, Mr. Tyler,” he said as he turned to lead me down a long hallway covered by a colorful Persian rug. I could hear the buzz of conversation and laughter coming from the end of the hall.
    I was led into a