First Time for Everything Read online

  They entered the spotless warehouse, and as she led him through a section containing rack after rack of men’s shirts, jackets, shoes, and hats, his excitement grew. The possibilities were endless—linen, silk, and wool in dressy blacks and whites, pale pastels, apple greens, corals, lavenders, and bold beautiful blues. He was thrilled she’d nixed the idea of taking him to Target. Here, he was sure to end up looking fantastic for Cory.

  “Marybeth, honey!” An older woman with frizzy red hair approached them. She wore a colorful hippie dress and chunky turquoise beads around her neck. “Who’s the handsome fella?”

  “Vera, this is Peter’s son, A.J.”

  “I see the resemblance.” She shook his hand. “What can I do you for today?”

  “A.J.’s going with us to Jamie’s wedding.”

  “Ah, do we want another Gatsby suit?”

  “No, think Footloose prom meets Public School’s spring collection.”

  “Oh, now that’s hot!”

  Vera shepherded them to a counter and pulled out measuring tapes and fabric swatches. A.J. stood still while Marybeth tested swatches against his face and hair. She arranged six different color groupings on a counter. “Which palette’s your favorite?”

  “The blues.”

  “Great choice, perfect for your coloring.”

  While she wrote down notes on a pad, Vera took his measurements. “A.J., honey, you have to check out LA’s food truck scene. I did one at Venice Beach that blew my mind. It was called Keep on Food Truckin’. They blasted seventies guitar riffs and served food an old stoner like me could appreciate. I got Eagles fried chicken, Boston clam chowder, Fleetwood Mac and cheese, and, get this, real Doobie Brothers brownies. No shit. Space cakes right off the truck.”

  He and Marybeth cracked up. She handed her notes to Vera, who looked them over and nodded. “We’ll have it ready Friday.”

  “Do I need to try anything on?”

  “Just shoes,” Marybeth said. “The tailor will take care of everything else.”

  They said good-bye to Vera, and Marybeth led him to a selection of high-gloss dress leather Oxfords. He tried on elevens that fit perfectly.

  “Well, I think we’re done here. You want me to take you to your dad’s? Or you feel like hanging at my house for a while?”

  “Let’s go to your place,” he said, hoping Cory would be home.

  WHILE MARYBETH checked e-mail in her home office, A.J. marveled at the fact Cory practically lived in a palace. Marybeth’s house—a midcentury modern affair, as she called it—was a spectacular glass and metal structure that sat in the hills overlooking a sprawling valley kingdom. In the backyard, there was a sparkling lap pool, cozy hot tub, and three towering Mexican fan palms, all secluded by purple-flowered bougainvillea vines growing thick along a privacy fence. If Cory had been home, A.J. would have suggested they go swimming and then hoped they’d end up in the hot tub with their feet touching.

  Marybeth returned and caught him staring at the pool. “You want to get in? You can wear one of Cory’s swimsuits.”

  The thought of slipping into Cory’s trunks made his insides tingle. “Okay, sure.”

  She showed him to the bathroom and brought him aqua board shorts and a colorful SeaWorld beach towel. He locked the door, took off his shoes and socks, and pulled off his T-shirt. As he stripped off his jeans, he eyed the board shorts, imagining them riding low on Cory’s waist and hugging the curve of his butt. Would Cory have a thin trail of hair like his own, leading down his belly to the waistband? Or would Cory have more body hair than he had? Enough on his chest to run your fingers through?

  He reached for the board shorts, pressed them to his nose, and inhaled the clean fresh scent of mountain spring Tide. He fingered the insides. That fabric had clung to Cory like wet papier-mâché. His cock pressed hard against his briefs. He pulled them down and stepped out of them. He gazed at himself in the mirror, standing there naked and excited, and longed for Cory to be the kind of boy who could desire him. As he stepped into the shorts, he imagined Cory had just taken them off and given them to him to wear. He left his cock hanging out and felt the fabric hug his butt. He was itching to jerk off right there in Marybeth’s bathroom, desiring her nephew. He knew it would feel as amazing as when he used to fantasize about Dylan in Colorado. Instead, he crammed his hard-on into the shorts and tied the drawstring. He folded his clothes and laid them on the vanity. He wrapped the Shamu towel around his waist to hide his whale-sized excitement and poked his head out of the bathroom.

  Marybeth was nowhere to be seen, so he dashed to the pool, tore off the towel, and dived in. Surfacing, he scissor-kicked and hoped forty laps of the sidestroke and front crawl would sidetrack his heart until he could crawl into bed. Tonight, he’d dream of being with Cory and take his time taking care of business.

  AS HAD happened in Colorado, work emergencies were gobbling up his dad’s vacation. He had to go into the office again that morning. A.J. took it in stride as he sat in the dining room alone in his underwear, eating a bowl of Chocolate Cheerios. He was simply glad to be out from under Bill’s thumb. He was about to flop on the couch with the remote and channel surf when the doorbell rang. He hurried to the door and looked through the peephole. Cory stood on the welcome mat holding a large box and plump white plastic bag. He glistened in hip new jeans and a fitted aqua polo shirt.

  “Just a minute,” A.J. hollered. He scrambled upstairs to his bedroom, slipped on his least faded jeans, and hurriedly laid his best pocket T-shirt on the bed and smoothed out roller-bag wrinkles. He pulled the shirt over his head and glanced in the dresser mirror. Shit. Bed head. Hair mowed down here, branched out there, and sprouted like a weed on top. He darted across the hall to his dad’s bedroom, flung open the closet, and found a Colorado Rockies baseball cap. He slapped it on, raced back downstairs, and opened the door, trying to look collected.

  “Hey, Cory.” He scanned the overgrown courtyard. “Where’s Marybeth?” he asked, hoping she wasn’t with him.

  “Working. I was out shopping and thought I’d swing by and see if you were home.”

  “Come in. Set your stuff down.”

  “Actually, it’s all for you.” Cory went straight to the dining room and set things on the table.

  A.J. saw the box’s label. “A fish tank.”

  “And fish.” From the white plastic bag, Cory pulled a clear, water-filled baggie. Swimming inside were colorful mollies, tetras, and rainbowfish. “I know the tank’s not as big as the one you had in Colorado, but these guys will like it anyway.”

  A.J. gazed at the fragile little world floating in his gentle grip. He couldn’t believe the boy could be so thoughtful.

  “Can I help you set it up?” Cory asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Where do you want to put it?”

  “In my bedroom.”

  They took the box and fish upstairs. As Cory unpacked the tank and A.J. put together the filter, Cory talked about Jamie’s wedding reception. “He’s seating us yearbook people at our own table. Stacy Morrison’s gonna sit by you. I told her about us going to the aquarium. I think you guys will hit it off.”

  A.J. didn’t want to sit by Stacy Morrison. “You trying to play matchmaker?”

  “Maybe.” Cory poured colorful rocks into the tank. “Unless you have a girlfriend in Bagdad.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Why not?”

  Not about to reveal the truth, A.J. shrugged and fumbled with the filter. “If Stacy’s so cool, why aren’t you dating her?”

  “We’re not into each other.”

  Their gazes met, and A.J. saw it again. A dozen boy-meets-girl movie scenes flashed in his head. It was that look. But then Cory blinked and turned his attention to the heap he’d poured into the tank. Emboldened, A.J. stepped closer to him and secured the filter as Cory spread the colorful rocks along the tank’s bottom. When their arms brushed, he felt warmth radiating from Cory’s skin and was suddenly doubly grateful for the u
nfortunate circumstances that had brought them together.

  “Cory, why’d you move to California? Marybeth told me you used to live in Texas.”

  “Yep, outside Ft. Worth.” He stepped back, looking serious, and surveyed the rocks he’d leveled. “It turned awful there once I got to high school. I was like a lone porpoise in a tank full of vicious tiger sharks. They circled me all the time, and if I let down my guard, they attacked. The last time they bloodied me so bad they put me in the hospital. That’s when Marybeth came out from California and rescued me.”

  “Shit, I’m so sorry.”

  “Jamie says I should tell people if they ask, but I still kinda hate talking about it.” He shifted his stance, carefully picking up the baggie of fish. “I think the tank’s ready to fill.”

  “I’ll get a bucket.”

  A.J. left the room and straggled around upstairs, feeling as though he too had been bashed. Attacked. Bloodied. In the hospital. It sickened him that Cory had suffered such cruelty. He found a bucket in his dad’s bathroom, and as he filled it with water, he felt himself filling with guilt. He’d been standoffish toward Cory at the airport and during the long ride to Long Beach, and he’d snapped hard at him outside the aquarium. He had to apologize. He sloshed water onto the carpet as he lugged the heavy bucket to his bedroom. “I’m sorry I was a jerk before we had lunch yesterday.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t friendly either. I honestly thought you were going to be like the rednecks in Texas, with you working on a horse ranch and all.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I know you’re nothing like those guys. I was being stupid.”

  “No, you weren’t…. You were being cautious.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  A.J. hefted the bucket and poured water into the tank. Cory handed him the baggie.

  “I’ll release them after the filter conditions the water,” A.J. said.

  The boys watched the colorful creatures swimming in their makeshift home. A.J. thought he’d feel the kind of happiness he used to feel when he admired his fish in Colorado. But he didn’t.

  Cory sensed something was wrong. “What’s the matter?”

  “They’re gonna die after I go back to Arizona. My dad will neglect them.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll move the tank to my house and take care of them until you come back.”

  “Awesome, they’ll belong to us both.”

  Something chimed. Cory pulled a smartphone from his pocket and fingered the screen. “Shit, my boss needs me to open the theater. I have to get going.”

  Bummed, A.J. followed Cory as he headed downstairs and out the front door.

  A.J. held up the baggie. “Thanks for the fish.”

  “You’re welcome. See you tomorrow at the reception.”

  As he watched Cory leave the courtyard, he wondered if maybe he should reveal the truth about his feelings. He was certain of what he’d seen in Cory’s eyes, wasn’t he? But what if he was dead wrong? What if Cory turned against him and told Marybeth his secret? What would his dad do when he found out? What would his mom and Bill do when he got back to Arizona? It was all too scary to think about, so he retreated to the townhouse and closed the door.

  FRIDAY, HIS dad didn’t go into the office. But taking calls and answering e-mails got in the way of their plans to hit Universal Studios. His dad promised they’d go tomorrow and take Cory if he wanted to tag along. That satisfied A.J. just fine. He killed the afternoon by walking up to Orange Grove Boulevard and shopping for plants and food at Angel’s Tropical Fish Store. The sun was on the horizon when he returned with his purchases. As he let himself into the townhouse, his dad called from the kitchen. “Hey, buddy, Marybeth’s people dropped off your suit. I hung everything in your closet. Better start getting ready.”

  A.J. headed upstairs. First things first. He planted the aquarium and fed the fish. Then he went to his dad’s bathroom and showered and shaved. As he dried and combed his hair, his anticipation grew. What was the suit going to look like on him? Would it actually fit? Would he look as nice as Cory?

  Back in his room, he dropped his towel and put on clean white briefs. Then he opened his closet door. Inside hung the new outfit.

  His dad rapped on the bedroom door. “Chop, chop, A.J.! I mean it. We gotta leave. Traffic’s horrendous on Fridays.”

  “Okay,” he answered. His dad sounded anxious, so he wasted no time getting dressed. Not until he’d tied his shiny new oxfords did he examine himself in the mirror. Then he couldn’t believe what he saw. The gorgeous blue fabrics he wore were tapered and flared in exactly the right places, and the suit’s subtle sheen made him almost glow. Marybeth had styled him to look better than Ren, Willard, and everyone else in Footloose.

  He hurried downstairs, where his dad was waiting in a dark gray business suit with keys in hand. “Holy cow, buddy, the girls from Cory’s class are gonna throw themselves at you. Marybeth’s turned you into Mr. Hollywood!”

  He grinned and followed his dad outside to his Pathfinder. He felt a tinge of excitement as they cruised down Colorado Boulevard. Romantic sidewalk cafés, bars, and bistros bustled with nightlife. When they stopped at a red light, he froze, not believing his eyes. Right on the corner, two young guys held hands. It was the first time he’d ever seen such a thing in person—real-life gays, open about their love in public. Then he gripped the Pathfinder’s armrest. Men as big as Denver Broncos hoofed toward them. His heart thumped hard in his chest. How bad would they hurt the guys? Would anyone try to help them? As they neared striking distance, he gasped, “Dad.”

  “Huh?” His dad was fooling with his Bluetooth.

  The men passed, not caring at all that the youths were holding hands. The blond playfully tugged his companion into a restaurant, and A.J.’s fears changed to astonishment. If you were gay here, maybe you didn’t have to hide your love from the world. Maybe that’s why they shot unrealistic TV shows like Glee and Modern Family here. Maybe here they were realistic. He was suddenly thankful his dad had moved. He wanted to stay in Southern California forever.

  His dad plugged the Bluetooth into his ear. “What is it, A.J.?”

  Searching for something to say, A.J. picked out the light ahead. “It’s green.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  When they reached the giant trench of the 134 Freeway, they descended into a slow, hellish lava flow of red-hot taillights. A call came through on his dad’s Bluetooth. He tapped the earpiece. “Hello…? What…? Jerry, don’t give me that shit…. We’re not going to lose Yamamoto as a client.”

  A.J. tensed. Yamamoto was the man who’d demanded his dad fly to Tokyo and ruined their Christmas trip to Disney World. He glanced at his father. His jaw was clenched. He slowly shook his head and glared at backed up traffic. “I can’t leave in the morning. Book it for afternoon.”

  He tapped the Bluetooth, yanked it out of his ear, and tossed it on the dashboard. “Morons.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Work’s sending me to Tokyo tomorrow.”

  “What about your vacation?”

  “I have to reschedule it.”

  “Can I stay here while you’re gone?”

  “No, buddy, you can’t. I’m so sorry. I’ll take time off in August for you. I promise.”

  “Shit,” A.J. muttered.

  “C’mon, you’ll be back here in no time. Let’s not ruin everyone’s night, okay?”

  A.J. grudgingly nodded. He knew come August his dad would likely break his promise, but he did not want to wreck the wedding reception for Marybeth and Cory.

  THANKS TO a Mercedes and Prius fender bender on the freeway, they arrived late to the Castaway, a chalet that sat atop a mountain and overlooked LA’s wondrous grid of lights. His dad guided him down a corridor toward the banquet hall where Jamie’s reception was under way. “Go find our table. I’ll meet you inside after I hit the can.”

  A.J. entered a cavernous room that echoed with laughter and loud, happy
voices. Most guests already sat at round tables, but a few sipped wine and chatted on a large parquet surface that would become a dance floor when music played. Marybeth and Cory were nowhere to be seen, so he scanned tented name cards and found his group’s at a table near the back of the hall. He sat next to a pretty girl in a pink floral dress.

  “A.J.,” she said, shaking his hand, “I’m Stacy.”

  “Nice to meet you. Where’s Cory and Marybeth?”

  “Outside with Jamie’s brother, Ian.” She leaned toward him and lowered her voice. “He’s offering Cory a publishing internship. He gave me one too, because we helped Jamie convert our yearbook to an e-book. We’re spending next summer in New York. Isn’t that exciting?”

  “Wow… yeah,” A.J. stammered, feeling as though he’d been slapped. He could see nothing in his own future but searing heat, choking dust, and horse dung.

  Servers in white shirts and black vests set plates of salmon, asparagus, and roasted potatoes in front of them. Stacy nibbled salmon. “Cory said you want to be a marine biologist?”

  “It’s a silly dream. I’m stuck going to college in Arizona, and there’s no program in Tempe or Tucson.”

  “Why not go to UCLA like Cory and me?”

  He shrugged. He wasn’t going to tell her his dad had said no to moving in with him to get residency. That was the only way his family could afford UCLA. Instead he asked, “How long has Cory been outside?”

  “He should be back soon.” She glanced around and pointed. “Here he comes.”

  Cory crossed the room alone, gorgeous and graceful in his Gatsby suit. Something extraordinary must have happened outside because he looked genuinely happy. He approached the table smiling.

  “Well?” Stacy asked.

  “Ian wants me too. I get to stay in Manhattan with him and his—” Noticing A.J., he cut himself off. “Wow, you look nice. I’m glad you’re finally here. Your dad said traffic was hell.”