Reunion (5/6)
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Chapter Five
After quite some time spent reminiscing, Scotty, Jack and Marie finally began including Kevin in the conversation as Scotty filled his old friends in on the history of their relationship. But, while the three of them laughed at the story of his drunken Tom Jones impression, Kevin wished they had just continued to talk around him. The only thing that made it worthwhile was Scotty’s grin as he reached over to grab Kevin’s hand.
Scotty took a sip of his punch before he started to tell them about their wedding day. He had just described the "one or two little flowers" in the living room when an older woman came up to the table. She crouched down, putting her arms on the backs of Scotty's and Marie’s chairs.
"I should have known you three would be getting up to no good."
Scotty abruptly put his cup down and stood to give the woman a hug.
"Mrs. Thompson!"
She pulled back from the hug and smiled up at him. "Scotty Wandell! You completely disappeared. Whatever happened to you? Please tell me something great, because a few of us teachers have a bet going."
Scotty laughed in shock. "Well, I don’t know if it’s great, but I’m in L.A. I’m head chef at a five-star restaurant."
"That’s pretty great! And I had California in the pool, so that’s even better."
Scotty shook his head in disbelief. "Who knew I was such a big deal?"
***
Scotty had never officially decided where he was going, but when he saw the sign welcoming him to California, he wasn’t particularly surprised. Los Angeles seemed like as good a place as any, and he’d probably be able to find a job fairly easily. The money he had saved and the cash his father had given him were holding out pretty well. He usually slept in his car and tried to order the cheapest thing on the menu whenever he stopped to eat. Nonetheless, he needed to find a job soon. Somewhere in Arizona, at a rather disgusting truck stop where he kept getting disturbing winks from some of the drivers, he decided there was one thing he’d never do for money. Other than that, he didn’t really care what kind of job he found.
Thankfully, it never became much of a concern since he got a job bussing tables almost as soon as he arrived in L.A. He found a creepy, tiny studio apartment that didn’t require a security deposit or a lease, just payments every two weeks. He lived next door to a, well, an amateur filmmaker. As soon as he realized what his neighbor was up to, he added porn star to his "I’ll never be that poor" list.
At the end of his first week at the restaurant, he dropped a postcard in the mail for Marie. At the end of his second week, he walked to the payphone at the corner and called home. His dad answered and sighed in relief when he heard Scotty’s voice. He made Scotty swear that he was safe and healthy and didn’t need any money. At the end of his third week, he agreed to hang out with one of the restaurant’s hosts, Jordan. As soon as Jordan had found out Scotty was new in L.A., he had taken him under his wing. He taught Scotty which restaurant regulars gave the best tips and which ones had groping hands and which ones he should avoid when they showed up, sniffling and with blown pupils.
That night, Jordan was taking Scotty out to introduce him to the L.A. nightlife.
"This is hardly the wildest place you could go," Jordan informed him as they walked down the sidewalk. "My friend Quinn works here, though, and it’s a decent place. Watered-down beer, but what can you do?"
"That’s not a big deal. I don’t really drink much," Scotty said. "Besides, I’m not 21."
"Yeah, me neither. But you have a fake, right?"
Scotty shook his head, and Jordan stopped in his tracks. "You don’t have a fake? Christ."
"Sorry."
"That’s OK. I know a guy who can make you one. Quinn will let you in anyway."
They turned the corner, and Scotty saw a neon sign that said "Cinnamon Jack’s." There were several guys standing around outside. Two of them held hands while they smoked cigarettes. Two other men were making out; Scotty watched as the man pressed against the wall reached down and stuck his hands into the other man’s back pockets. Scotty stopped abruptly.
"They’re - "
"Yeah, it’s a gay bar," Jordan informed him.
Scotty opened and closed his mouth a few times but didn’t say anything.
Jordan laughed. "Don’t even try to tell me you’re straight, because I won’t believe you."
"No," Scotty finally said. "It’s not that. It’s just, I’ve never..."
Jordan nodded. "Oh, yeah. Mississippi." He put a hand on Scotty’s shoulder and pushed him forward. Scotty stumbled before he caught his balance and kept walking. "Scotty, welcome to L.A."
That was when Scotty’s new life really started. He slowly got used to the idea of going to places where gay people kissed and danced and held hands in public and nobody looked twice. And after he got his fake ID and had been a regular at Cinnamon Jack’s for a couple weeks, he finally started to realize when he was being hit on. He was surprised at first, but soon figured out his way around the dating scene. He was hardly as promiscuous as Jordan or Quinn or Mario, but he did meet and go out with people now and then. He had told Brad that he wasn’t going to waste his time with guys trying to pass, and he didn’t. The guys he dated were all incredibly out. They wore eyeliner, and called each other honey, and fit basically every cliché Scotty had ever heard. But he didn’t care, because he didn’t have to hide anything with them.
Scotty had to admit, though, that he did sometimes feel like he was pretending. He wasn’t that fond of going out every weekend. Sometimes, he just wanted to hang out at home, watching a movie or eating ice cream. Instead, the other guys would drag him to a new club or a concert. Whenever Scotty felt overwhelmed, he just tried to copy his friends’ lead, and he learned how to flirt and tease outrageously. Occasionally, he actually succeeded at it, and if the guy was cute or nice, Scotty would sometimes go home with him. More often than not, though, he went home alone. If he had extra cash, he would stop by the grocery store on the way back to his place and entertain himself by seeing what he could make with the items on sale that week.
He had been in L.A. a couple years when his landlord sold his building to a developer the same month the restaurant went out of business. He moved in with Jordan and began searching for jobs. He ended up getting hired by a catering company. Jordan, who had found a job at a hotel, mocked him every time he saw him in the white jacket. But Scotty made good money and better tips, and the chef was teaching him how to make a few dishes. Cater-waiting may not be the best job, but he really liked it.
In June, he had a shift at a private party. Scotty raised his eyebrows and whistled when he saw the houses in the neighborhood. He pulled alongside the shoulder and parked his car behind the catering van, then walked around to the back of the house. The catering station was set up near a rather nice pool. Scotty pulled his jacket on as he walked up to the station.
The chef looked up. "Scotty, good, you’re here. Can you finish this seafood dip? I need to go out to the van for a second."
Scotty nodded and took the spoon from the woman. As she walked away, an older woman with shoulder-length dark hair walked up to him.
"I’m sorry, but did she just say seafood dip? There’s no shrimp in there, is there? We said no shrimp."
Scotty smiled. "No, ma’am. Crab."
"Oh, good. My son’s allergic."
"Nothing to worry about."
"Thank you so much," she said with a smile, patting his arm as she walked past him and into the house.
An hour later, the party was in full swing. Based on the conversations around him, Scotty figured out they were celebrating some rich kid’s law school graduation, but he had yet to determine who the guest of honor was.
He picked up a fresh tray of champagne and walked alongside the pool. As he stopped to offer the drinks to a group of people, he could feel a pair of eyes on him. He looked up and across the yard. A young man met his eyes and then quickly glanced away. Scotty looked back down at the tray with a smile. Embarrassingly traumatic memories aside, curly dark hair and blue eyes still grabbed his attention.
A few more times throughout the course of the day, he caught the man staring at him. Scotty avoided actually serving him any food or drinks, though. He had worked at the company long enough to know that, at these types of parties, several of the waiters often earned extra tips by disappearing for a few minutes with a bored housewife or a son not used to being turned down. But Scotty had made a promise to himself, and he was more than happy with the tips he got for serving food. When the cake was brought out and Scotty realized that the man was in fact the guest of honor, he knew he had been right to avoid him. He may have been cute, but Scotty wasn’t really in the mood to be propositioned by someone looking to go slumming for an afternoon.
That didn’t stop Scotty from remembering - later that night when he was home alone and curled up in bed - the look in the man’s eyes or the shy smile he had given Scotty one time as Scotty walked past him.
***
Scotty was pouring himself another cup of punch when he heard an unexpected voice behind him.
"Ten laps, Wandell."
He whirled around. "Coach Roberts."
The coach smiled and stuck out his hand, which Scotty shook. He had seen the coach earlier, surrounded by a bunch of guys he was pretty sure had been on the basketball team. Scotty had wanted to go say hi, but there was never a moment when the other man had been alone.
Coach Roberts clapped his other palm around their clasped hands before releasing Scotty’s hand. "Alice Thompson tells me you’re in California these days."
Scotty nodded as he took a sip of punch. "Yep. Yeah, L.A."
The coach sighed. "Must be nice." After a pause, he laughed. "Man, I nearly skinned you alive when you turned down that scholarship, but it looks like you did pretty well for yourself after all."
Scotty shrugged. He looked down at his feet and took a deep breath before looking back up at the coach. "I never - " Scotty cleared his throat. "I never got a chance to thank you for...everything."
The older man didn’t say anything or even look at him, but he reached up and patted Scotty’s shoulder a few times as they both stared out across the gym. After a few moments of silence, the coach laughed. "God, you were the scrappiest kid I ever saw. Taking them on three at a time."
Scotty laughed, raising his free hand to cover his eyes as he shook his head.
Chapter Six
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Chapter Five
After quite some time spent reminiscing, Scotty, Jack and Marie finally began including Kevin in the conversation as Scotty filled his old friends in on the history of their relationship. But, while the three of them laughed at the story of his drunken Tom Jones impression, Kevin wished they had just continued to talk around him. The only thing that made it worthwhile was Scotty’s grin as he reached over to grab Kevin’s hand.
Scotty took a sip of his punch before he started to tell them about their wedding day. He had just described the "one or two little flowers" in the living room when an older woman came up to the table. She crouched down, putting her arms on the backs of Scotty's and Marie’s chairs.
"I should have known you three would be getting up to no good."
Scotty abruptly put his cup down and stood to give the woman a hug.
"Mrs. Thompson!"
She pulled back from the hug and smiled up at him. "Scotty Wandell! You completely disappeared. Whatever happened to you? Please tell me something great, because a few of us teachers have a bet going."
Scotty laughed in shock. "Well, I don’t know if it’s great, but I’m in L.A. I’m head chef at a five-star restaurant."
"That’s pretty great! And I had California in the pool, so that’s even better."
Scotty shook his head in disbelief. "Who knew I was such a big deal?"
***
Scotty had never officially decided where he was going, but when he saw the sign welcoming him to California, he wasn’t particularly surprised. Los Angeles seemed like as good a place as any, and he’d probably be able to find a job fairly easily. The money he had saved and the cash his father had given him were holding out pretty well. He usually slept in his car and tried to order the cheapest thing on the menu whenever he stopped to eat. Nonetheless, he needed to find a job soon. Somewhere in Arizona, at a rather disgusting truck stop where he kept getting disturbing winks from some of the drivers, he decided there was one thing he’d never do for money. Other than that, he didn’t really care what kind of job he found.
Thankfully, it never became much of a concern since he got a job bussing tables almost as soon as he arrived in L.A. He found a creepy, tiny studio apartment that didn’t require a security deposit or a lease, just payments every two weeks. He lived next door to a, well, an amateur filmmaker. As soon as he realized what his neighbor was up to, he added porn star to his "I’ll never be that poor" list.
At the end of his first week at the restaurant, he dropped a postcard in the mail for Marie. At the end of his second week, he walked to the payphone at the corner and called home. His dad answered and sighed in relief when he heard Scotty’s voice. He made Scotty swear that he was safe and healthy and didn’t need any money. At the end of his third week, he agreed to hang out with one of the restaurant’s hosts, Jordan. As soon as Jordan had found out Scotty was new in L.A., he had taken him under his wing. He taught Scotty which restaurant regulars gave the best tips and which ones had groping hands and which ones he should avoid when they showed up, sniffling and with blown pupils.
That night, Jordan was taking Scotty out to introduce him to the L.A. nightlife.
"This is hardly the wildest place you could go," Jordan informed him as they walked down the sidewalk. "My friend Quinn works here, though, and it’s a decent place. Watered-down beer, but what can you do?"
"That’s not a big deal. I don’t really drink much," Scotty said. "Besides, I’m not 21."
"Yeah, me neither. But you have a fake, right?"
Scotty shook his head, and Jordan stopped in his tracks. "You don’t have a fake? Christ."
"Sorry."
"That’s OK. I know a guy who can make you one. Quinn will let you in anyway."
They turned the corner, and Scotty saw a neon sign that said "Cinnamon Jack’s." There were several guys standing around outside. Two of them held hands while they smoked cigarettes. Two other men were making out; Scotty watched as the man pressed against the wall reached down and stuck his hands into the other man’s back pockets. Scotty stopped abruptly.
"They’re - "
"Yeah, it’s a gay bar," Jordan informed him.
Scotty opened and closed his mouth a few times but didn’t say anything.
Jordan laughed. "Don’t even try to tell me you’re straight, because I won’t believe you."
"No," Scotty finally said. "It’s not that. It’s just, I’ve never..."
Jordan nodded. "Oh, yeah. Mississippi." He put a hand on Scotty’s shoulder and pushed him forward. Scotty stumbled before he caught his balance and kept walking. "Scotty, welcome to L.A."
That was when Scotty’s new life really started. He slowly got used to the idea of going to places where gay people kissed and danced and held hands in public and nobody looked twice. And after he got his fake ID and had been a regular at Cinnamon Jack’s for a couple weeks, he finally started to realize when he was being hit on. He was surprised at first, but soon figured out his way around the dating scene. He was hardly as promiscuous as Jordan or Quinn or Mario, but he did meet and go out with people now and then. He had told Brad that he wasn’t going to waste his time with guys trying to pass, and he didn’t. The guys he dated were all incredibly out. They wore eyeliner, and called each other honey, and fit basically every cliché Scotty had ever heard. But he didn’t care, because he didn’t have to hide anything with them.
Scotty had to admit, though, that he did sometimes feel like he was pretending. He wasn’t that fond of going out every weekend. Sometimes, he just wanted to hang out at home, watching a movie or eating ice cream. Instead, the other guys would drag him to a new club or a concert. Whenever Scotty felt overwhelmed, he just tried to copy his friends’ lead, and he learned how to flirt and tease outrageously. Occasionally, he actually succeeded at it, and if the guy was cute or nice, Scotty would sometimes go home with him. More often than not, though, he went home alone. If he had extra cash, he would stop by the grocery store on the way back to his place and entertain himself by seeing what he could make with the items on sale that week.
He had been in L.A. a couple years when his landlord sold his building to a developer the same month the restaurant went out of business. He moved in with Jordan and began searching for jobs. He ended up getting hired by a catering company. Jordan, who had found a job at a hotel, mocked him every time he saw him in the white jacket. But Scotty made good money and better tips, and the chef was teaching him how to make a few dishes. Cater-waiting may not be the best job, but he really liked it.
In June, he had a shift at a private party. Scotty raised his eyebrows and whistled when he saw the houses in the neighborhood. He pulled alongside the shoulder and parked his car behind the catering van, then walked around to the back of the house. The catering station was set up near a rather nice pool. Scotty pulled his jacket on as he walked up to the station.
The chef looked up. "Scotty, good, you’re here. Can you finish this seafood dip? I need to go out to the van for a second."
Scotty nodded and took the spoon from the woman. As she walked away, an older woman with shoulder-length dark hair walked up to him.
"I’m sorry, but did she just say seafood dip? There’s no shrimp in there, is there? We said no shrimp."
Scotty smiled. "No, ma’am. Crab."
"Oh, good. My son’s allergic."
"Nothing to worry about."
"Thank you so much," she said with a smile, patting his arm as she walked past him and into the house.
An hour later, the party was in full swing. Based on the conversations around him, Scotty figured out they were celebrating some rich kid’s law school graduation, but he had yet to determine who the guest of honor was.
He picked up a fresh tray of champagne and walked alongside the pool. As he stopped to offer the drinks to a group of people, he could feel a pair of eyes on him. He looked up and across the yard. A young man met his eyes and then quickly glanced away. Scotty looked back down at the tray with a smile. Embarrassingly traumatic memories aside, curly dark hair and blue eyes still grabbed his attention.
A few more times throughout the course of the day, he caught the man staring at him. Scotty avoided actually serving him any food or drinks, though. He had worked at the company long enough to know that, at these types of parties, several of the waiters often earned extra tips by disappearing for a few minutes with a bored housewife or a son not used to being turned down. But Scotty had made a promise to himself, and he was more than happy with the tips he got for serving food. When the cake was brought out and Scotty realized that the man was in fact the guest of honor, he knew he had been right to avoid him. He may have been cute, but Scotty wasn’t really in the mood to be propositioned by someone looking to go slumming for an afternoon.
That didn’t stop Scotty from remembering - later that night when he was home alone and curled up in bed - the look in the man’s eyes or the shy smile he had given Scotty one time as Scotty walked past him.
***
Scotty was pouring himself another cup of punch when he heard an unexpected voice behind him.
"Ten laps, Wandell."
He whirled around. "Coach Roberts."
The coach smiled and stuck out his hand, which Scotty shook. He had seen the coach earlier, surrounded by a bunch of guys he was pretty sure had been on the basketball team. Scotty had wanted to go say hi, but there was never a moment when the other man had been alone.
Coach Roberts clapped his other palm around their clasped hands before releasing Scotty’s hand. "Alice Thompson tells me you’re in California these days."
Scotty nodded as he took a sip of punch. "Yep. Yeah, L.A."
The coach sighed. "Must be nice." After a pause, he laughed. "Man, I nearly skinned you alive when you turned down that scholarship, but it looks like you did pretty well for yourself after all."
Scotty shrugged. He looked down at his feet and took a deep breath before looking back up at the coach. "I never - " Scotty cleared his throat. "I never got a chance to thank you for...everything."
The older man didn’t say anything or even look at him, but he reached up and patted Scotty’s shoulder a few times as they both stared out across the gym. After a few moments of silence, the coach laughed. "God, you were the scrappiest kid I ever saw. Taking them on three at a time."
Scotty laughed, raising his free hand to cover his eyes as he shook his head.
Chapter Six
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