right?”
“Is he even gay?” Kevin asked.
“We’re going dancing at a gay club. What do you think?”
Kevin laughed. “You? At a gay club?”
“Can we fire him?” Gio asked Dacia.
Dacia laughed. “Are you going to go?” she asked in Italian.
Gio glared at Kevin. In Italian, he said, “I told him I would. I’m not sure if I will blend in with this crowd, though. Mike is more… I don’t know. Rugged? He doesn’t know a lot about music or opera. What if we have nothing to talk about?”
“Has that been a problem so far?”
“I suppose not. But there’s also the other thing.”
“That he’s your student’s father?”
“Yes. You don’t think that’s unethical?”
“I suppose it is, but the workshop is ending soon, no?”
“You guys are no fun at all,” Kevin said. “You know I don’t speak Italian.”
Dacia threw an arm around Gio and gave him a brief hug. “It will be a new and interesting experience for you,” she said in English. “It might be nice to fall in love with someone who is not a performer for a change. Performers are so dramatic.”
“ Dio. Who said anything about falling in love?”
Dacia stood. “You would not be having an existential crisis over a man you just wanted to fuck.”
As she walked away, Gio shouted, “I hate my friends.”
“ Noi ti amiamo !” called out Dacia.
Gio rolled his eyes.
Six
O F ALL the times for a meeting to run long! Gio had gotten stuck at the most epic faculty meeting of all time. Eons passed, seasons changed, animals went extinct. He was inclined to tell everyone he’d just do whatever they wanted so he could get out of there, but no, the meeting dragged on, well past five and into the dinner hour. When it at long last mercifully ended, Gio bolted from the conference room and to his office, where he rapidly changed clothes, checked his e-mail, said something nasty to his assistant Angela, and then apologized for being rude. He took a moment to examine himself in the men’s room on the way out of the building. He thought he looked passable. His hair was mussed but that couldn’t be helped. He could have used a shave, but there was no time. His shirt was a little wrinkled, but maybe that would fix itself as he wore it.
He wasn’t going to make it in time for dinner, that was plain, so he grabbed a sandwich on his way down Eighth Avenue and ate it as he walked. It was not a good sandwich—the turkey had no flavor and there was way too much mayonnaise—but it was sustenance and that was what mattered. He got a text from Mike to meet him and his friends at the Thai place where they were eating, and then they’d walk to this club together.
So Gio, of course, caught every “don’t walk” sign as he walked. By the time he finally got to Fifty-third Street and found the restaurant, he wanted to cry.
Mike and four other men were sitting around a table toward the back. Gio walked over to them and said hello.
Mike stood and… arms. He had incredible arms. He’d been wearing sleeves every time Gio had seen him before so he hadn’t really noticed, but now he was wearing a tight black tank top that showed off meaty, muscular biceps and perfectly outlined the pecs of a man who worked out or did a lot of physical labor—probably both, given Mike’s profession—and Gio’s mouth went dry.
He was a far cry from the lithe little dancers Gio had been dating lately.
Mike smiled. “Well, I’m glad you made it.”
“Sorry, terrible meeting. If I could have left it, believe me, I would have in a heartbeat.”
Mike nodded solemnly and gestured toward the table. “Here, meet everyone. The blond one is my friend Sandy. We’ve known each other for a million years and served in the army together until I got discharged. The handsome man in the pink shirt is Sandy’s new boyfriend James. He’s a doctor and we’re supposed to be impressed by this.” Sandy threw a napkin at Mike, which just made Mike laugh. It was nice to see
“Is he even gay?” Kevin asked.
“We’re going dancing at a gay club. What do you think?”
Kevin laughed. “You? At a gay club?”
“Can we fire him?” Gio asked Dacia.
Dacia laughed. “Are you going to go?” she asked in Italian.
Gio glared at Kevin. In Italian, he said, “I told him I would. I’m not sure if I will blend in with this crowd, though. Mike is more… I don’t know. Rugged? He doesn’t know a lot about music or opera. What if we have nothing to talk about?”
“Has that been a problem so far?”
“I suppose not. But there’s also the other thing.”
“That he’s your student’s father?”
“Yes. You don’t think that’s unethical?”
“I suppose it is, but the workshop is ending soon, no?”
“You guys are no fun at all,” Kevin said. “You know I don’t speak Italian.”
Dacia threw an arm around Gio and gave him a brief hug. “It will be a new and interesting experience for you,” she said in English. “It might be nice to fall in love with someone who is not a performer for a change. Performers are so dramatic.”
“ Dio. Who said anything about falling in love?”
Dacia stood. “You would not be having an existential crisis over a man you just wanted to fuck.”
As she walked away, Gio shouted, “I hate my friends.”
“ Noi ti amiamo !” called out Dacia.
Gio rolled his eyes.
Six
O F ALL the times for a meeting to run long! Gio had gotten stuck at the most epic faculty meeting of all time. Eons passed, seasons changed, animals went extinct. He was inclined to tell everyone he’d just do whatever they wanted so he could get out of there, but no, the meeting dragged on, well past five and into the dinner hour. When it at long last mercifully ended, Gio bolted from the conference room and to his office, where he rapidly changed clothes, checked his e-mail, said something nasty to his assistant Angela, and then apologized for being rude. He took a moment to examine himself in the men’s room on the way out of the building. He thought he looked passable. His hair was mussed but that couldn’t be helped. He could have used a shave, but there was no time. His shirt was a little wrinkled, but maybe that would fix itself as he wore it.
He wasn’t going to make it in time for dinner, that was plain, so he grabbed a sandwich on his way down Eighth Avenue and ate it as he walked. It was not a good sandwich—the turkey had no flavor and there was way too much mayonnaise—but it was sustenance and that was what mattered. He got a text from Mike to meet him and his friends at the Thai place where they were eating, and then they’d walk to this club together.
So Gio, of course, caught every “don’t walk” sign as he walked. By the time he finally got to Fifty-third Street and found the restaurant, he wanted to cry.
Mike and four other men were sitting around a table toward the back. Gio walked over to them and said hello.
Mike stood and… arms. He had incredible arms. He’d been wearing sleeves every time Gio had seen him before so he hadn’t really noticed, but now he was wearing a tight black tank top that showed off meaty, muscular biceps and perfectly outlined the pecs of a man who worked out or did a lot of physical labor—probably both, given Mike’s profession—and Gio’s mouth went dry.
He was a far cry from the lithe little dancers Gio had been dating lately.
Mike smiled. “Well, I’m glad you made it.”
“Sorry, terrible meeting. If I could have left it, believe me, I would have in a heartbeat.”
Mike nodded solemnly and gestured toward the table. “Here, meet everyone. The blond one is my friend Sandy. We’ve known each other for a million years and served in the army together until I got discharged. The handsome man in the pink shirt is Sandy’s new boyfriend James. He’s a doctor and we’re supposed to be impressed by this.” Sandy threw a napkin at Mike, which just made Mike laugh. It was nice to see
Similar Books
