ANN

Why is it that when things go horribly wrong, I go home to my mom? I never thought about it before. But it's true. I do that. Life crashes in on me, I get really sick, someone dies, everyone else goes on and I can't ... and I go home.

You know why?

Because my mom's there.

"I called him a big pooh," I told her as I buried my face in her lap. It was Saturday afternoon. I was fighting the ends of a killer hangover. But that wasn't anywhere near the worst thing going on just then in my life.

"Did you now?" she asked me. Her cool fingers pulled the hair from my face; I nestled in more intently into her body, shielding me from her eyes.

"I did."

"Why?"

"Because I was drunk."

"Well, that's okay then."

"Is it?"

"Oh, sure. I mean, if you're drunk, you can't really be expected to be using words any smarter than 'big pooh' when you're trying to tell a man off, can you?"

"Mom."

"You wanna tell me what happened?"

"Why am I so bad at love, Mom?"

"You're not bad at love. Buck up, girl. You're having a pity party. When did you turn into this weak sister? This is more than the hangover talking."

"Do you know that even some of our friends think I'm not the right kind of woman for him? It really hurt my feelings. But I suppose even I think he could do a lot better. I don't know what he ever saw in me."

"That's love for you, don't you think? But love that lasts is a lot of work. It's not easy. But when was it ever that you, of all people, were interested in something easy?"

I sat up, eased away from her. We regarded each other from our respective sides of the couch. I bit my lip. She just watched me. Finally: "I'm scared to see him again."

"Why? You think he's going to hit you?"

"No!" I said, shocked that this would be where her mind would go. "Because I'm so ashamed. I know I've hurt his feelings. I know I've let him down. I can't face him."

She nodded, leaned in to stroke my knee. "Okay. Then you might as well move into your old bedroom. That is what you're asking, right?"

"No. I just needed some breathing space, to get up my courage, that's all. I think."

"You're an intelligent woman. You've done something stupid, maybe even mean. You've hurt the man you love. You have to go give him the chance to confront you. Or were you really considering frittering away your whole future because you're a coward who doesn't love him enough to work this out and put it behind you? Just how bad was whatever you did ... besides calling him a big pooh, I mean?"

What had I done? In toto, is what I'm talking about.

I went out carousing with friends. I got drunk. I kissed another man. I put on a display in a strip club that I would have not even cared about if I'd been single ... but I wasn't single anymore. I didn't want to be that woman anymore: the woman who only concerned herself with herself as an individual instead of concerning herself with the couple she was part of now.

You know what? The only bad thing I'd really done is tell Max I'd kissed a man and that I'd stripped in public.

Why is that so bad?

Because I know if the shoe were on the other foot, if he had called me after a night of drinking and said he'd kissed another woman and then did something with sexual connotations in full public view? Well, I would have really been hurt.

Because you don't do something like that and not think about it later, when you're sobering up and taking a shower in a condo in New Orleans, and not realize one thing: I would have been ashamed if Max had seen me. To then be standing there in that shower, remembering how I'd blabbed it all out in a drunken phone call to him? Oh my God and the other truly vulgar things I'd said in that phone call to him that were just so not how I ever talked to him. I had just stood there in that shower this morning cringing, remembering that conversation and feeling like all the air had just been sucked out of me.

And then I tried to rectify it a bit, to call him this morning after I'd left the shower ... and to hear the distance between us, this total void that was there only because I'd been so gauche and low class and thoughtless as to have made that drunken phone call. It had seemed like a start, you know? Until I saw him later ... until we ended up on opposite sides, in public, when Max decided to deal with a bit of the outfall that he saw from his perspective. And I hadn't been able to deal with facing him alone after that. So instead, I'd gone to my mom's house, knowing I just wanted some place to hide. The whole thing taken together? I was more ashamed of myself than I'd maybe ever been in life.

One night of abject fun and then I'd done something that colored every memory of it with nothing but the purple rush of shame. I had this cold, huge pit inside my gut and I felt it every single time I thought about that night and about the fact that Max knew parts of it that were hurting him.

It had nothing to do with whether or not I had a right to be out carousing and blowing off steam ... it had everything to do with respect for him.

Oh. It had one other aspect. Something I knew he'd never find out about.

Another man had slept in our bed with me. 

PAUL

It seems like ages since Jeff and I had a real night out. I've been working every bloody hour I can at the building site and then rushing to the pub every night for a shift for months now. I'm bloody knackered. Jeff's the same - he's on site all day and then at night running around doing 'foreigners' on the side. But we needed the money. We've bought this pretty expensive place and we like things nice. Well, I like things nice. I'm not sure Jeff notices much as long as the place is clean and moderately tidy. But he knows I'm into design and shit like that and he wants me to have the things that matter to me.

And in a way he's kind of proud that we have this great apartment and it's ours, you know? We worked hard for everything. It's our home. Something we have built together. Jeff puts a lot of store by things like that.                                                            

So do I. There was a time when I never believed I'd ever have a regular life like other people. Jeff changed all that. Made it all possible. Christ, I love that guy.

We'd decided months ago to take our first holiday together. I nearly blew it when I spent all that dosh on a suit and Jeff went nuts at me but I started at the pub then and replaced the fund slowly. We chose Thailand because it has sun, sea and a free and easy atmosphere as far as sex is concerned. I mean we're not rampant but we like a bit of action, you know? Blokes are like that.

August had seemed like forever and then suddenly it was looming and we had our tickets and sun cream and new clothes...I even got Jeff to buy a few new shirts and pairs of shorts. I had a screaming fit when I saw what he thought he was going to wear on the beach so he gave in to shut me up. I always do that. It always works.

The plan was that when Jeff finished work on Friday we would get in the holiday mood with a night out on the town, get totally off our heads, crash out in front of the telly all Saturday fighting for the remote and then get ready for the party of the Firsts that night. By the time Sunday night and our flight came we would be already well in the mood for our week long party in the sun.

That was the plan. I had barely sipped my first beer when Jeff rang with some emergency at the job. It was going to take all night and he couldn't possibly go off on his holiday unless he knew this was all dealt with. He's like that. Takes pride in his work. Takes it personally, you know? He's a good bloke, reliable and honest, where so many in his business are just fucking cowboys. Did I say I love that guy?

I didn't right then, of course. I was pissed off with him. What the fuck was I going to do with a night off and all alone? It looked like I would be hanging round the bar again. I mean how sad is it when you can't find anywhere to go on your night off but your own place of work? But frankly, I've sort of lost touch with the crowd I used to run with since I met Jeff. They think I've gone soft and domestic. I don't give a shit. Jeff isn't overly keen on spending all his time with a gay set anyway. He doesn't much like the lifestyle, if I'm honest. You see Jeff doesn't identify with gays. He identifies with people. Old, young, male, female - doesn't matter to him who you sleep with. Nor does he believe it has to define your life and beliefs. I wish I had the courage to be the kind of man he is. I'm trying, but I still look to him for a hand. He's my hero actually. A man who is himself and pretends to no one. I'm not sure there are many Jeffs in this world. I bloody love that guy.

Luck would have it I ran into a group of girls who had been similarly left on their lonesome that night. I realised then that I did have friends other than Jeff. And they liked me for me. They didn't give a fuck if I was bent and wore mascara and eyeliner. Jessie even gave me a dusting with this stuff she has that makes you glow. So we decided to hit the town altogether and Ann had the idea of hitting THE town. Nawlins itself. Fuck me, but I was in the mood for the Quarter.

ANN

If we could freeze moments in time, we all would.

The one I'd freeze would be the innocent moment on that Friday night of being surrounded by kindred spirits of women with whom I have come to be friends. Nothing had yet happened that would later seem tainted by my selfish wildness.

Max was out of town. His work. I understood. I did. I missed him. How I did. Was it getting old? Oh, you don't want to know.

I had the night off work. I went to the pub. I was tired of spending all my nights off with no one but Buck to keep me company. I should have gone to my mom's house instead. But the idea of spending that night listening to Max's greatness was more than I wanted to bear. And besides, I'd missed everyone at the pub and it just seemed ... fun.

Carol was on her own that night as well; Zach was working on some case. Meet me at the pub, I'd told her. Let's just refuse to spend a night locked away from fun. We don't need a man to have fun do we?

Clarity was at the bar when I got there. One look and I knew she'd been hitting the bottle a lot more than is normal for her. Since we'd been back, I'd heard others gossip about her seeming on edge; I figured if she had a problem and thought any of us could help, she'd reach out. Like I'd meddle in her business uninvited? Yeah, because I so love having people do that to me, eh?

So I sat next to her, ordered a beer from Jessie. Clarity said John had taken off on her to some meeting and wasn't sure when he'd be back. Okay then.

Jessie said Lachlan was flying a route that night. New job. Mmm. Tough getting used to a man being on the road, eh?

We had the makings of a not-so-merry band of abandoned women. 

Carol sauntered in, breezy and saucy, just the way I love her. Karen wandered by needing advice on where to shop for a nice evening gown. We all considered her options. I wasn't really paying attention. Tulip had come in looking pitiful. Egan's being a right bastard, she mouthed at me. Oh, I mouthed back. Sniff.

Been there. Bastard men, how we love them anyway when they deserve it even when they don't, you know?

Paul rushed in, looking sexy and happy, all duded up for his honey to come take him out for a night on the town. Lucky guy. Until Jeff called to say the date was off; work, of course, was interfering.

Hey! Were we going to take this kind of treatment?

No.

I said to hell with men who abandoned their sweeties and cared not how we might be at a loss as to how to fill the empty hours. Are we women and one cutie named Paul? Hear us roar.

Watch us party.

Yes, indeed, it was my idea.

I said we didn't need men to have fun ... pardon me, Paul, but you know what I mean. I suggested that if they left with me, the door I took out of the pub led to New Orleans ... hey ... hop, skip and a block or two and you're in the French Quarter. It's the place to go and be bad and have fun.

Are we women ... and Paul? Can we not carouse?

You betcha.

Wild nights. I've done this I can't even say how many times. You go on purpose to drink and lose your mind and forget your cares ... they don't call New Orleans the city that care forgot for nothing. We wandered the streets, checking out the sights, the voodoo, the leather ... you heard me, the leather (ask Clarity about her little trinket she purchased) ... the antique shops, the jewelry, the jazz, the drinking ... and drinking ... and drinking. And then we hit Bourbon Street.

There we were at my favorite bar. We were all already very well lubed and we had all just gotten fresh drinks. Jessie suggested body shots. Paul did the honors. I think he got scared when some woman not with our group took the first shot off his body. The boy was shaking. He's so cute. I took the next one just so she'd back off. Shot glass of tequila in his waistband. Salt around his belly button. He was holding the lime between his teeth. A kiss was the point of it all, eh? It was just messing around. He did kiss awful good. I didn't expect it to be so manly, for some reason. I thought he might kiss me different, I suppose. So it definitely made an impression.

We lurched down Bourbon, trying to keep Carol from being arrested for exposing herself to every cop she saw (okay, only one and he was tres cute) in her hunt for beads. Then the others joined in ... I think Clarity and Karen were vying for bead slut of the night crowns. I don't show my puppies for beads. Tulip did but only a bit. She asked the question of the night: if they gave beads for bare boobs, would they give some for bare asses? Hmmm. Never had anyone ask me that before. I was worried they might decide to find out for themselves.

I challenged them to go into Big Daddy's Strip Club. Didn't take much convincing. But I figured, with what little sober cells were firing in my brain, that if I let them stay on Bourbon much longer, I'd be coming up with a hell of a lot of bail money when they got hauled off. NOPD can turn a blind eye to a little playful flashing but these ladies were a bit too enthusiastic even for them.

Paul said for $50 he would strip. I plunked the bill down. He blew me a kiss on his way to the stage. He put on quite a show. What women weren't watching him? They were all down in front of the stage, hooting for him. You need someone like him along when you're out boozing it up. He makes it a party and he keeps you safe just by being a man along. Sexist, I know, but even I admit I feel safer with a guy along on a night like this.

Jessie and I got up to dance. I was well oiled and I just wanted to be wild. I wasn't thinking any further ahead than that. She dances good. And then she showed us how to work a pole. I tried to imitate her. I thought I was stripping; Paul told me later all I really did was show everyone I was wearing a thong under my skirt.

Others did other things. They'd probably rather me not say so I won't.

See?

That's not so painful, is it?

Oh for that moment I wish I could have frozen way back at the beginning of this evening. The one before I really started drinking.

So out of the strip club, we went. I was going to take everyone to a jazz joint called Snug Harbor. I stumbled, even more clumsy than usual, as we left the strip joint. Twisted my ankle. It hurt. I felt like crying. If I'd not been drunk, it would have really hurt. No way was I going anywhere else that night but home, not with that hurt ankle. I whined to Paul to give me a piggyback ride to the pub because I couldn't make it there on my own.  He said not only was he too drunk but no way could he carry me all that way. I asked him if he was saying I was fat. He said he was just saying he wasn't Maximus.

Just the word Maximus, when Paul said it, got me all mooning over Max and missing him and how sexy he is and how horny being drunk made me for him.

Paul is such a good guy. He went all manly on us. Hailed a cab to take the other ladies back to the pub; hailed another one to take me directly to my condo. I think I was looking particularly pitiful; when I mumbled something about how I didn't know how I was going to make it from the cab, into the condo building and up to our unit ... Paul simply got in the cab with me to make sure I made it home okay seeing as how I was injured. I told him Max would be so grateful.

That launched him on a little monologue on his crush on Maximus. We were so silly. We were cracking each other up. We even got a fit of the giggles when the cabbie announced we were at the condo.

So that was our evening of mad, frivolous revelry.

If it had stayed there, we would have been left with nothing but a really bad hangover the next day.

Paul gave me the piggyback ride but only because it was a pretty short distance up the three front stairs, into the lobby, into the elevator, down the hall to our door. He dropped me on the couch. I thought it was hilarious. He floated in and out of my vision. When he reappeared, he had a baggie with ice. He was so incredibly tender with how he put it on my ankle and mumbled to me to keep it elevated.

He left me alone. I heard him in the bathroom.

I looked around the condo with blurry vision. I thought about how if Max were here ... oh, he'd find this all hilarious. He likes me tipsy. He says I come out with funny things. Plus, we have gotten up to some pretty wild things together when we've been drinking a bit. He's such a man. That's all that was coherent in my mind.

From there, it seemed so cute. I dug out my cell phone and pressed the speed number to get him. He answered on like the second buzz. God. I melted instantly. I started blathering away about missing him. I thought I was making such sense; I'm sure now I was slurring my words. He asked me if I was drunk; I said no way and then said, well, okay yeah. He kind of chuckled.

He really sounds fucking sexy when he chuckles like that. If he's with me when he makes that delicious sound, I know he's about to either ravish me or he's going to let me ravish him. So I started saying all these things to him, about missing him, about needing him, about how horny I was, about ... wait, hold on there. I think that was my first real odd thing. I don't normally talk quite that low-class to Max. Obviously, that was a big sign.

I think he interrupted me at that point and asked me who I'd been out with. He was probably just thinking I'd been drinking at the pub.

This was when I made the mistake. The one that haunted me when I remembered it. The one I don't know how to face because I can't face myself for it. If I'd kept my fucking mouth shut, none of the bad things with Max would have happened.

What'd I do? Oh. I told him all about it ... well, I told him the highlights: that I'd gone out with Jessie, Clarity, Carol, Karen, Tulip and Paul. That we'd caroused in the Quarter. That I'd kissed Paul and he tasted sweet. That I'd stripped in a club on Bourbon. That I'd gotten wasted and was back home, missing him.

Oh. God. I can hear myself, my drunken happy voice just blathering away at him. Not even aware of what I've said and how that's going to upset Max. I hate myself for doing that. I am so ashamed that what should have been a fun night will forever be tainted because of what I said to Max and how that hurt him.

So anyway, from there I proceeded to tell him in excruciating and vulgar detail what I was wishing he was there doing to me and with me. What a trashy woman I am.

And when I say vulgar ... man, I don't think I even knew I'd put those thoughts into those kinds of cheap words, you know? Damn. I hear that coming out of me, when I think back on this conversation, and I wonder just how much more horrible that could have made it for Max?

Oh, so, the coup de grâce was this: I'm blabbing away, spouting out white trash descriptions of sex when ... all of a sudden ... another physical reaction to a night of drinking to excess comes over me.

"Max, something's wrong," I said to him. And then I plunked off the cell, tossed it away from me and hobbled as best as I could into the bathroom where I proceeded to do some serious worship at the porcelain god.

PAUL

So we did it all. And when I say all, people, Paul O'Gallagher means ALL. Half measures do not figure in my dictionary. We drank bars dry, minced around like we owned the place, got tattoos, flashed tits and willies (sorry, willy, I was the only owner of one present), had a bit of a kiss and cuddle, stripped, pole danced and almost got arrested (I did my best but the police officer fancied Carol.) Finally at some ungodly hour, Ann fell off her stilettos and twisted her ankle so I went all White Knight on her, put the others in a cab and carried Ann. I soon gave up on that - I am not really a White Knight, it seems. But still, my Mam brought me up proper so I did get her safely home.

And got myself invited in. Well, she was really pissed and falling about, plus she couldn't walk so I had to give her a hand. Then she had a chucking up session so I had to sort her out and put cold ice on her ankle and get her to bed. What else would your girlfriend do at a time like that?

It was a bit creepy being in Maximus' bedroom. Well, not creepy. It's a really nice room, well decorated and all, but I kept thinking: 'Fuck, he pisses in this toilet! That toothbrush must be his - you can't quite imagine him brushing his teeth, can you? That his cologne? Nice...! So I can't pretend I wasn't slightly inhibited by being in this inner sanctum and imagining Maximus reclining on the bed like some naked Roman gladiator, sporting a giant hard on and...well, you get my drift? I was distinctly uneasy that he would walk in and find me sitting on his bed with his half naked fiancée - and probably rip my head from my body...

Ann said he was out of town. I wasn't to worry. I gingerly sat on the bed and settled her. She was rambling on about something or other and I found myself lying on the pillow next to her rambling on about something as well. I was thinking - God, this is the actual pillow where he rests his head at night...!..and that is the last I remember.

The very next thing that I was aware of, I woke with a start. There was sunlight flooding in the window. 

I was naked in bed with Ann.

When the fuck did I take my pants off? More to the question - why had I removed them? Had we? Oh my god! Had we ....done it? In his bed?

I sprang up with a start. Ann was still fast asleep, curled up next to me, all snug and cute. It was odd to think that she probably thought I was Maximus. Imagine that?

But as much as I didn't really want to die on the wrong end of a short sword, that wasn't actually my main concern running through my brain as I sat on the edge of the bed with my head in my hands.

What the fuck was I going to say to Jeff? Either I tell him I betrayed him with a woman or he will presume I picked up a bit of passing trade for a night of lust with some bloke I'd bumped into. Either way I was fucked. Fidelity matters to Jeff. Man or woman, it makes no difference to him. He'd made that clear at the start. No more whoring around like I had been doing up to then. I was his bloke and his alone. We might on the odd occasion do a bit of the group thing but that was different. We promised each other never to fly solo with anyone else. That was the golden rule.

And I'd just broken it. 

And what else had I broken along with it?

His trust? 

His heart? 

My dreams? 

Later, when we were both awake, I don't think either Ann or I quite knew what to say. Who does, the morning after the 'night before's mistake to end all the mistakes you have ever made when you were pissed'? It appeared neither of us clearly remembered the last few acts of the night's performance and there was a time when we both were seriously worried that we had actually done the nasty.

I mean, I'm as capable of it as much as any other man. I know I'm not really interested in women sexually but, let's face it, you give me enough to drink (but not too much), give me a good looking girl and then pull on my chain and you will get the same response as from any red-blooded straight guy. It isn't necessary for my head to be involved. So, in theory I knew I could have done it. In my murky past I would have done it - and just laughed it off as another experience.

Ann told me we hadn't. I suppose she would know best. I couldn't see any signs but as I wasn't sure how I even got my kit off, I don't know that I didn't go and have a shower, did I, to erase the evidence? But it does look like we fell asleep with the physical side unconsummated. Come to think of it, I was way past my fucking limit anyway...one of those four-pot screamers, to paraphrase a friend. And Ann with her heaving stomach and bad ankle would probably not have been as lively as she could have been either.

So we were in the clear...or were we? Naked in a bed together? So Maximus would accept our perfectly reasonable explanations? So Jeff would?

Are you kidding me?

We sat down over a pot of coffee and made a pact. Silence. Total blackout about the night. No one would ever know the story and even in our cups or confessing to the pope himself, we would never let a germ of this episode escape. We were bound together in a bond of secrecy, like some Cosa Nostra promise, slit your finger and seal it in blood on pain of death or everlasting torment (except I can't stand pain or blood so we just pretended to do that).

She would tell Maximus only what he already knew from that half remembered drunken telephone call - and she figured that was bad enough. Other than that she would just say she twisted her ankle and I dropped her home. I would tell Jeff that I got off my head drunk and after seeing the girls safe, ended up at the pub where Uma told me to sleep upstairs for my own safety as I was too drunk to be allowed out alone.

But the problem was Uma would have to know that I was lying and be asked to lie for me. So would Andy. Now, there was no question of me blaming Ann in any way or even mentioning her name so, in effect, I would then be taking the rap for bad behaviour. Uma and Andy would think I had been unfaithful to Jeff. Ann said I shouldn't have to be put in this position but I just said one word to her: 'Maximus'. That shut up her objections.

We both knew we couldn't risk him ever finding out and, for that, I would have to accept the disapproval of my friends. In the end it was the lesser of two evils. I can be a White Knight when I try. There was some compensation in that thought.

Ann was so cool. She kissed me softly and told me I was a real man and she wouldn't forget what I was doing. I just prayed that my secret stayed safe from Jeff.

If he leaves me over this, I don't know what I will do. But I swear I will never ever let Ann down, whatever the cost. 

I've done a lot of bad and selfish things in my life so maybe this is the payback, hey?

Sort of ironic, isn't it? That I should lose all for doing nothing but being unselfish. 

I took my leave, went back to the pub and slid in, hoping I'd find Andy around, reckoning he would be easier to manipulate than HMV herself.

Naturally he was out and no one was there but Uma.

"...Paul? Thought you'd not see the light of day until at least late afternoon after yesterday's little blow out...and while I've got you here...thanks a lot for your little disappearing act last night. Because of you and your total lack of any sort of common sense or charitable feeling for anyone but yourself, added to the fact that you seem to have been born without even a fledgling gentlemanly gene in your entire overly toned and pampered body...."

She is fucking scary in that mode, a cross between a head mistress, your big sister and a Rottweiler. And she speaks without taking a breath for incredibly long stretches using so many rapid fire words that your brain is still trying to understand the last sentence even as she is onto the next, thus you never really get the full gist. Except I did get an approximate idea what she was on about.

She was pissed as hell and I was the chosen whipping boy...

"....and so because of you, Andy had to get out of bed at one thirty in the morning and run a pack of drunken women back home so they could curl up with their men while I was left in an increasingly cold bed after I had quarreled with my boyfriend so that even on his return neither of us were talking to each other...so thank you very much and let me remind you that the next time you want a night off or a raise or any fucking thing from either of us expect a big NO as the answer and save your breath. But don't worry as long as you got to do exactly what you liked and then snuck back in for a bit of late night nookie with Jeff then everything is bloody apples, isn't it? Just a minute...." Then she stopped and you could see her face as the truth dawned on her... "...You were wearing those clothes last night...! Jesus Christ, you haven't been home yet have you, you cheap little tart..? What this time? Picked up some sugar daddy for a bit of rough...you just make me sick! You have less morals than a tom cat...wait a minute....so that's why you're here, is it? You are now sweating on Jeff finding out - so you want me to cover for you? That it? You bloody little rat...if you think I'm going to lie for you, you've got another think coming..."

So far I hadn't uttered a word in my defence. I hadn't even said hello. Which is unusual for me because I am a bit of a blabbermouth by nature. But she didn't give me a chance and my head was banging to start with. My mouth that had been rather stale and bitter to start with was now becoming drier by the minute.

What chance did I have now at this turn of events?

"Uma...give me a chance to explain....it's not what you think! I didn't do anything wrong but I just...well...I just...I didn't get home, you know? And Jeff might just think the worst because although I am not up to the same shit as I used to be, he sometimes gets a bit insecure and jumps to the wrong conclusion..." I was blabbering now and she was just staring not saying anything while I dug myself a deeper and deeper hole.

"If I cover for you, you dirty little bleeder, it will be so that Jeff is not hurt. He loves you so much, though God knows why."

Her answer was cold and clinical but at least she was prepared to do it.

"Uma....aww...thanks...you are a pal...mate, I'll make this up to you, I promise...I knew you'd come good for us..."

"...I am not doing this for you. I am doing this for Jeff. Frankly, I couldn't give a toss for you. He is my main concern. You are just his bloke and a rather unreliable member of my staff. But I'm telling you this, pal, you hurt him again and I will take great delight in spoiling your little fun. I always worried when he took up with you, if the truth were known. He could do so much better. I always knew you'd break his heart in the end..."

It bloody hurt when she spoke to me like that. I know her passion is for her boys and she worries endlessly about them but she is also close friends with their partners. I thought she was a close friend of mine too. I actually thought she liked me. It hurt to know she had never trusted me and had such doubts. But I suppose I deserve it. That's my reward for the years when I was exactly the little slut that she thinks me to be.

"Uma...you never made a mistake? You got nothing in your past that you're ashamed of?" I murmured.

She glared at me. "This is about you not me...how dare you try and turn it to my reputation!"

That isn't what I had meant so I shut my mouth and walked out just muttering, "Thanks, anyway..."

And cried in my car. With relief. With fear. With the painful realisation that I was still never going to shake the past from me or ever win the respect of those I cared about.

ANDY 

"What was that about?" I was leaning on the door into the bar drying my hands on a towel.

Uma shrugged. "Just Paul."

"Yeah, I know who he is. What was it about?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me, Uma. I heard enough."

She tutted. "Paul spent the night somewhere other than his own bed. He wants us to cover for him if Jeff asks. Say he slept here. I said we would. No need to hurt Jeff..."

"That's not exactly how you said it though, is it?"

She flounced over to the bar and began gathering ashtrays to set out on the tables. "Well, I wasn't exactly thrilled to be lying for him. You know what he's like..."

"Actually, I don't. He seems to be in love with his boyfriend and it strikes me their relationship has bugger all to do with you anyway. They are not your little pet lambs. They are grown up men who do not need Little Bo Beep herding them around and protecting them from the dangers of the world. Stop interfering and give the bloke a chance before you really cause some damage..."

"I beg your pardon?" Uma gasped.

"You heard me. You and me. That's the only relationship that you should be bothering about. And what you said to him stank. He was right. We've all made mistakes and other people have forgiven us. Remember that before you start queening it again..."

"You can't talk to me like that."

"Yes, I can. And will. Someone has to. Stop playing games with other people's lives. Start living your own instead. And when he gets back from his holiday, apologise."

She stood looking at me for a long while and then nodded. "You're right, Andy. I was a cow to him. He didn't deserve that. I took it out on him because we didn't get to have sex last night. That was a pretty pathetic thing to do. And you're right about something else as well...you are the only one who can get away with talking to me like that. And what does that say about us, hey, tough guy?"

I grinned. "Lock the front door. They can wait half an hour... we've got a bit of business unfinished upstairs..."

PAUL

"That you, Paul?"

Jeff was under his van checking that oil leak that had been bothering him last week as I parked in my bay. 

"Yeah."

"What happened to you last night? I was worried. Tried to call you. Your phone was off..."

"Got rat arsed. With a load of the girls. Slept it off at the pub."

He pulled himself out, his face was smeared with oil and his hair was streaked with it. "The girls? I hope you didn't take them anywhere inappropriate..."

I put on my choirboy face. "Moi? It was they who led me into sin. Ann took us to Sin City. I was shocked. Totally shocked...."

"New Orleans? Fuck, you lucky bastard... Suppose you've got a thick head?"

"Fucking banging. Think I'll get a few hours' kip..."

"I'll run you a bath and make you some tea..."

"You're the one who needs the bath...."

"Well, I wasn't thinking of leaving you unattended. You can wash my hair for me with one of those poncy shampoos of yours..."

"You know, Mitchell, you have to be the most romantic guy alive...wash oil out of your hair while we sip cups of tea. You sound like me Mam..."

He threw the oil rag at me and grinned. "Your 'Mam' could blow as well as me? I'm impressed..."

I gave chase as he ran for the stairs. Everything was normal. He had bought it quite happily even if I hated the fact that I had lied. I promised myself there and then I would never get into any situation where I had to do that again.

ANN

After Paul left the condo that morning, I sat on the floor of the bedroom and just stared at the bed for a long time. My head hurt so bad. My ankle ached dully. Everything hurt. Even my hair. Especially my self respect.

I stripped the bed and threw the sheets in the wash. I emptied a bunch of bleach in there. Max wouldn't notice if I screwed up the wash again; I think he was almost used to my ineptness on the domestic front.

My brain was functioning even worse than usual. My headache was killing me. I was slugging down ibuprofen by the handful. I think I drank two gallons of water just to try to get that cottony feeling out of my mouth. I spent a bit of time in between examining the white throne in the bathroom. Eventually, I forced myself to eat crackers then a slice of toast. Then some coffee. More ibuprofen. I took a long shower. Cleaned the bathroom. Felt almost human.

It was about an hour later, as I was pulling the sheets from the dryer and then making the bed ... this is when I saw the lights on the answering machine flickering. I was standing next to the bed and looking at those lights. I pressed the button, listened to three messages from Max, obviously made after I'd called him but before I'd woken up that morning. In each one, I could hear the level of his concern deepening because he didn't know if I was okay or not. That says a lot for a man like Maximus. He'd also called my cell three times, as I found out when I went in the living room in search of it.

God.

I finished making the bed.

My fingers were trembling.

I dialed his number. He picked it up on the first ring. "Are you all right?" was all he said.

"Yes. Hung over. But I'm fine. Max ..."

"I've been calling since ..."

"I know, I know, baby. I'm so sorry. I passed out and then ... I never heard your calls. I just finally happened to notice the answering machine was blinking ..."

"Ah." There was a deep pause. "I couldn't reach you ..."

"I'm so sorry I worried you, Max."

His voice was suddenly soft. "I feared something had happened to you, cara."

I closed my eyes. "I know. I feel horrible that I worried you like that. But it was just this ... Max? About last night ... it was just a carouse, y'know? But, boy, I drank way too much. I don't know what came over me. And I shouldn't have called you. I don't really remember what I said, but I was drunk and I doubt I was making any sense."

"We'll talk about it when I return."

"Yes. Okay." I could hear it in his voice; that tightness of anger that was coming in the wake of the concern he'd had that something had happened to me.

After we hung up, I was getting dressed when I started worrying about Paul. About how things had gone between him and Jeff when he'd gotten home. God. We had really fucked up, me and Paul.

Feeling like I should do something ... anything ... virtuous, I decided to drive over to the levee with Buck and walk until I sweated out all the toxins of the night before. But part way there, I rationalized that the last thing I should do is go for a long hard walk on my sore ankle. So instead I turned my car in the direction of the Marigny. Thought I should go to the pub before it opened and check on Paul. I wondered how he was doing this afternoon. I felt a new awareness of him after what's happened ... we'd barely had more than a nodding friendship before last night. And now, I was trusting him with a secret that could take away everything that was important to me in life if he ever told anyone. It's odd to me how we started the night barely knowing each other and ended it putting our future in each other's hands.

As I turned onto the street, I got a shock that nearly made my heart stop. Max was just getting out of his car, parked at the curb just down from the pub. He stalked deliberately to the door. His body was contained fury. Anyone looking at him would have been able to see that. I pulled in a few spaces before his car. I was shaking. Why was he there? Why had he not come home to me instead of coming there? Oh God, I thought as I remembered telling him I'd kissed Paul. Oh God oh God. This was not good.

I wasn't sure what I'd find when I opened the door to the pub. What I saw, it scared me on way too many levels.

PAUL 

It's always when you think you're out of danger that the bastard luck hits you right between the eyes. Know what I mean? After a sweet little afternoon of sport and sex with my main man, I showered and strolled in for what was to be my last night at the funny farm for two weeks. Jeff and I were off to the exotic east in the early hours of the morning after I finished my shift. Everything was packed and all he had to do was cab it round and pick me up at eleven - and we were away.

The traumas of the early morning well behind me, I was in a great mood, loose and easy, looking forward to getting away. The bar was empty; it was early on. Andy was leaning back on the counter, his arms folded, quizzing me about the details of the night before with a big grin on his face. Uma was sitting on the bar top draped around Andy in that way she has when she forgets that anyone is watching and you see this whole different side of her and you know that the boss does not wear the pants when they close the bedroom door at night. I kind of like that. Mostly because I like Andy. He's a sorted bloke. Just straight up and no guile about him. Straight as they come sexually-speaking, of course, but hasn't got any hang-ups about other people and their lifestyles. You are what you are and he's curious about everyone in a non-threatening way. Likes to listen and work things out, understand what makes people tick. That's why he's so good in this sort of trade. He's just like a sponge in many ways and people use him to soak up whatever they need to offload. He doesn't make any attempt to solve their problems, but he listens and mostly that's what people want. But when he has something to say, he says it and you can bet it makes damn good sense too.

Uma might be older than Andy in years but I think he's solved a few of her problems in life already. She was also suddenly less frosty with me that evening compared with her comments of the morning and I reckoned that Andy had given her a pep talk since then which had made some difference. She really takes notice of what he says. Don't know anyone else who can ever get her to change her mind but him. That says a lot about people and what's inside, I think. You never really know from surface impressions what goes on in the lives of others until you look behind that gloss and read the real signs beneath.

Anyhow I was just regaling them with the story of how I dropped my pants in that sex shop and flashed my cock ring. Uma was giggling and Andy was pulling faces.

"A ring through your bloody dick? You nuts? Don't you piss all over the place?"

"Yeah, you want to see?" I went for my zip but Andy shouted over, "Don't even think it, O'Gallagher..."

"You have to sit down to pee when you have a Prince Albert," Uma informed him with authority.

"Sit down? Me? You tapped?" I scoffed.

"But you must spray everywhere. Extra holes..." Andy added somewhat unnecessarily.

"Then every man must have a few extra holes from my experience," Uma replied tartly.

"So it's a bit messy? So what? Anyway, there I was with my pants round my ankles and these women all going 'oooooh that's a big one, Paul...' very impressed naturally when..."

The door burst open and Maximus strode in. Now Maximus is a man who never walks when he can stride manfully around. It is one of his many charms. You know, the way he walks slightly leaning forward as if he is daring the air to get in his way? Well today it was more of a charge. The door swung back and he just covered the ground between the door and me without appearing to be hurrying - but very fast all the same. One moment he was there at the entrance and the next his meaty hand was round my skinny neck and I was hauled up against the wall.

"I want a word with you," he growled.

My life flashed before my eyes. It really does happen when you think you're going to die, you know? He must have found out. How? Ann wouldn't have said. Did I leave something in the bedroom? Shit, I bet I did something fucking insane like leave my driving licence or some such thing so even a flaming half wit could work out what had happened, never mind the general himself.

"Er...." I replied. Well, it was hard to speak with his fist constricting my windpipe.

"I should...." he rasped out. I was rather glad that he did not actually finish that sentence as I was having enough trouble with the strangulation without him adding to my worries with threats about how he was next going to proceed.

Suddenly a voice broke in. I realised Andy had walked forward and was standing at his shoulder. With his hand on Max's arm, he said "Okay mate....just let him go...no need to get rough with him...he's going nowhere....come on...not in here...calm down, mate..."

There was a moment when Maximus's eyes glinted and I wondered whether he was just going to kill us both and have done with it. Andy did not move back even though I knew he wasn't comfortable. But fair play to him, he's got guts and he was there for me.

Then another voice broke in, "Maybe this is not the place for this, Max?" Uma's voice was soft and for the first time Maximus seemed to waver. He turned his head and they looked at each other. It was a very intimate moment. I know they used to have a thing but it was only then that I began to understand how deep it must have been once upon a time if just one word from her could still make him stop in full attack.

He blinked a few times and then let me go. I slithered down the wall and grabbed my neck, still coughing and spluttering. Another person entered, this time at a run. It was Ann looking really scared, upset and anxious.

Meanwhile Maximus was back on my case, "I want you to know I hold you personally responsible for what happened last night. What kind of man drags decent women with him when he is visiting such tawdry haunts as...?"

"...Max, that's not fair! I can make my own decisions about getting bombed!" Ann protested.

"Enough! I will discuss this with you at home." I thought Ann would explode at that putdown but she didn't. She just flushed bright red and dropped her head in embarrassment.

Maximus turned back to me and took a step closer; I backed even further against the wall.

"...Get your hands off my staff, Maximus, and go home! You need to calm down before we all make mistakes." Andy spoke firmly and quietly but thank God he had the desired effect. Whatever had fired Maximus up, he was coming down from it now and I suddenly realized that I was not going to die today after all.

He turned on his heel and with one last look back at me, a glance so replete with warning that it could have stripped the skin off a man's hide had it so wished, he brushed past Ann and walked back out. Ann mouthed to me: "I did not tell him!" before following him on out.

"Ann?" Uma called. She stopped and looked round at her. "When did you get to be such a wimp? Go sort him out...what are you, a doormat?" But her expression was not unkindly and Ann did not take it as such. She just threw up her hands as if in frustration and headed out of the door, still limping slightly on her sprained ankle.

Andy blew a slow steady sigh of relief, rolled his eyes and slapped me on the back. I grinned, somewhat weakly and he went to get me a Scotch. Uma slipped off her perch and came over, giving me a suspicious look.

"Nothing happened," I said. 

She did not seem convinced. "Something did. We all know that now, hey...?"

"Leave it...! Uma... leave it now, you got that?  It is not your affair..." Andy addressed her from the bar and for the second time in as many minutes a strong and willful woman meekly backed down in the face of a strongly worded objection from her man.

As I said before, you never really know from surface impressions what goes on in the lives of others until you look behind that gloss and read the real signs beneath.

"Paul. Go home. Finish your packing. Go and cuddle up to Jeff and have a great holiday. Just say we sent you off early for good behaviour...." Andy said as I slugged back the shot of Scotch. "In two weeks' time, no one will remember a bloody thing about this. Forget it."

"Cheers, mate. I owe you a couple for all this..." I said to Andy.

"No worries. Shit happens. You've done enough for us in the past. We're mates. We look out for each other. You've looked after me a few times when I've been low..."

Yeah, well, where else would he go when he's on the outs with the boss? Who else would listen to him? He's not the sort of bloke to tell one of the girls how he feels and I can't see him confiding in guys like Curry or Ryan, the set he usually hangs about with. So he's poured his heart out a couple of times to me and Jeff. His secrets are safe with us. He knows that. Just as Ann's is. I might be a dirty little poofta but I'm a bloody good mate. I nodded at him in thanks and he returned the nod with a smile.

If he was gay I'd have had a real thing for him, you know? The boss sure is a good judge of men, I'll give her that.

So no harm done. I got an early start to my holiday and got to get up close and personal to the general himself at long last. 

Christ, he's strong.

And so brutal.

And he's got gorgeous eyes....

ANN

You can't always go home. Or maybe, it's that you can't go to the home of your childhood, time and time again, like going to the well once too often.

So I did leave my mom's house after we had a little chat. And then I went to my home. Where it was home because it's where he was. It's where my heart was. I knew I had to go, I knew I had to face what had happened and find a way to put it right. I knew it before my mother said to me, "Even when you were a little girl, you weren't really interested in having me fight your battles. You just sometimes needed to catch your breath. But you know what? He's the one who does that for you now, not me."

It was pretty dark inside the condo. But I knew it so well by this point that the residual light of street lamps through an open shade and the faint glow of light spilling in from the kitchen gave me all the illumination I needed to see in the living room. And even if they hadn't, even if it'd been so black I'd not been able to see my hand before my face, I would have found my way to where he was.

He sat in the big, overstuffed armchair in the living room. He didn't say a word when I came in. He barely moved; only his hand reaching for a snifter on the table next to him. He picked it up, brought it to his lips, he held it in both hands, swirling it, slowly.

As I neared him, I could see he was staring into its amber depths as if lost inside whatever images he saw flickering in a far off daydream.

I don't know exactly what I expected. No, I take that back. I thought, based on the scene at the pub, that he'd be pacing, pent up, angry, ready to fling accusations of infidelity and worse. I thought he'd tell me that I was not the woman he thought I was. I thought he'd say that he couldn't love a woman who had done what I'd proven myself capable of. I thought he'd order me to change, to never be that drunken harlot he would think I was. I thought maybe he'd even threaten that he'd never marry any woman who'd act that way. I thought maybe he'd get in my face and tell me hurtful things about me being low class and vulgar. I thought he might even fly into an awesome rage, throwing things, breaking stuff and screaming at me about kissing another man. I never once thought he'd show me his pain but I knew that was the bottom line between us.

"Max?" I whispered softly. "I am so sorry."

He leaned his head back on the rounded neck of the chair. He closed his eyes. I could see his lashes, dark and lush, against the rise of his cheeks. He licked his lips.

"It was just supposed to be this crazy fun with friends." I let out a shaky breath as he moved but it was only to put the snifter back on the table. He wouldn't even look at me. "I think it sounded a lot worse than it was."

Then why was I apologizing, I heard him ask me inside my head. I wish he would have said something out loud.

"I was drunk when I called you. Max? Please just say something ... please yell at me or something. Give me a chance to say I didn't mean to hurt you."

He still didn't move. He still didn't talk. I sunk down to my knees before him and put my head on his thigh. I stroked his calf. I waited. It was so odd. I waited for him to explode in anger at me and all the time I was, I was touching him for the comfort of being with him, where I was safe from harm.

"I've been so used to being alone and only having to worry about how my actions affect me. I didn't mean to do anything to hurt you or disappoint you or embarrass you. And I know I have. I know I worried you, Max. I am so sorry for that."

I felt his hand stroke over my head. His hands are so large, so masculine. Feeling one on my head, it feels like he could swallow it up in his hand.

For so long, we stayed like that. Me on my knees, my body leaning in on his, grateful just for the proximity. Him with his eyes shut, held back from me, his hand giving me hope.

And then the fingers of that hand slipped from my hair to my face. They brushed across my closed eyes. They hesitated as they ran through wetness of tears. Silent tears. Sometimes I think those are the saddest of all.

"Shh," he said softly, as he reached for my hand that rested atop his thigh.

I don't know. I may never know. This man does things that take my breath away. He is a phantasm, maybe. I never seem to be able to really quite get a grip on all that he is.

He pulled me up. I was on my feet, unsure what he wanted but needing to be led by him. Both of his hands guided my awkward body until he had me sinking down astride his lap, my legs dangling off over the side of the chair's arms. My arms slowly going around his shoulders. I was watching him; he was still laying back with his eyes shut. He kept whispering these little shushing noises at me every time I tried to say something else. And then one of his hands gently pulled my head until it was tucked between his shoulder and neck. His arms circled and he settled me against him.

I drew my fingers down his jaw, letting them linger and play along his beard in an intimate gesture that had become habit for me. I put my dry lips to the side of his throat, to where his beard met stubble from where he'd shaved many hours earlier. I felt him swallow; I heard his breathing steady, deepen.

"Max ..."

"I don't want to talk about it," he said. His voice was low, tired. He turned his head into me, pressed his warm lips against my forehead. It was such a tender, loving kiss. "I just want to forget."

I gripped in tight, pulling his head in tighter, making his lips have more contact. He flexed and reached around my body more, solidifying the hold until I could breathe again.

We sat there like that, just holding each other. For so long.

And this is what I came to think. I had hurt him. I had. I had wounded him in a way he never honestly thought I would. But he also knew me well enough to know that no matter how I'd wounded him, I had not done it on purpose and that I was going to beat myself up over it more than he ever would. He had made up his mind that he was not going to let me go over this. And therefore, he didn't want to hash it out, fight it out, bring it to some crisis point.

He just wanted to move beyond it.

Or maybe it's that a man can forgive if he knows his heart is still safe with the woman he's entrusted it to.

I don't think either of us said another word the whole night. We spoke instead in a different way. We held each other for a long time. Eventually, we did made love. It was not desperate. It was not anything but healing. It was saying to each other that this would not harm us, that this would be something to rise above. But it was also this: he was in charge when we made love. He made all the moves. I responded. He took over. I wanted him to.

And I know this. I told him the next day, as we laid in a warm bed and let sunlight ease over us. I had a hand on his chest. We were staring into each other's eyes and we hadn't even talked, not really. You can't count love noises and scattered fragments of expressed passion as talking. Not really.

I told him this: I had learned a valuable and unexpected lesson in all of this. I realized I was no longer in the least interested in walking some solitary road. I was no longer the least bit infatuated with being nothing but an independent "me." All I wanted, all my focus, all my strength now came from being a part of something bigger. I am walking our path now. Not mine. Ours. I will still be an individual, just as he will. I am still capable of standing up on my own, just as he is. But I am more than that now. Now, we share a path in life. Now I am not whole without him.

He said only two things about how he felt about the things I'd said to him in that drunken phone call. He said them both to me right in the wake of what I'd said about being a part of "us" rather than just "me." He said them solemnly and firmly but he never said them mean. He just needed to say them, to know that I knew and understood. He said nothing else had mattered except he had been scared to death when he couldn't reach me. And, he said, you must remember that I love you.

There was a look in his eyes. Remnants of wounded pride that he was determined to banish after letting me see them. And I wondered ... did he mean to remind me that nothing could hurt him worse than for the woman he loved to share an intimacy with another man? I don't know; maybe I read into it what he said, the words unsaid but emotions in his eyes and in the way he made love with me after we said these things to each other.

Days went by in which the intensity between us seemed all there was. We didn't laugh, not really. But we loved as if our lives depended on it. The day after he had returned, he called from work and said he was taking some time off, that he was taking me away, a little spur of the moment trip just for us. I loved him for that, for realizing this was just what we needed to acknowledge this feeling that was hanging over us that we both were realizing just how valuable what we had together was. I also felt awkward, like that trip shouldn't have been necessary. But it was. It just was. And so was the intensity of that time.

I don't remember when the laughter returned, but it did. And with it returned our ease with each other.

But if Max knew ... if he knew there was more to what had happened that night between Paul and me ... it was a secret two people would protect forever. It was innocent; it's the only reason we could keep it secret. But I knew Max well enough to fear one thing: if he'd known, I might have lost his trust. And him.

EPILOGUE
ANN

The choices we make to survive.

I'd told Paul the one thing he'd needed to hear that afternoon after Max went after him. 'I did not tell him,' I had mouthed out to him.

What didn't I tell Maximus?

It was the most innocent and yet most unforgivable thing. Paul and I spent the night, in Max's bed, together. We didn't mean for it to happen.

He had carried me in from the bathroom. The room was still spinning. I have learned long ago that when I've been drinking and if the room is spinning when I'm lying down, I can't sleep. It's hopeless. I have to distract myself. And a conversation is the best distraction. It isn't enough to just ramble on, because that doesn't keep my mind off what's happening with my body.

Until that night, Paul and I had never really said anything meaningful to each other. About the only thing we really had in common? We both had a real thing for Maximus.

Heck, maybe that's precisely why I said it to him, why I admitted it to him. Because maybe I thought ... maybe I just thought he'd know something. I can't believe what it led to between us. Something quite beautiful.

He said something funny about this being where Max laid his manly head. I said the thing that'd been on my mind and never spoken about to anyone.

"You know how people will say things, right? They always think no one's ever going to overhear them. Or that no one's ever going to tell the person they're saying things about," I said to him, rolling over on my side to face him. He was staring up at the ceiling, watching the fan. "Want to know a secret?"

"I love secrets...tell me..."

"Remember the day Max and I found the pub again? Everyone seemed so happy to see us ... to see us both, I mean. But ... I overheard something ... a couple in a booth ... the woman was telling the guy that I was all wrong for Max. The wrong kind of woman. That there was no way a man like Maximus would be interested in a girl like Ann. That it was so out of character for him. That no one else saw it but her. But that she knew Maximus better and knew he needed a completely different kind of woman for him to love her."

There was a tiny pause before I asked, "Do you think she's right?"

"No, I bloody don't," he said. He turned on the bed to face me. "Who was the silly cow anyway? Was that something Uma said? She said that about you?"

"No! Uma is the one who got Max to realize we belonged together."

He waved his hand at me. "Well, then she should know. Take no notice of other people - what do they know? They always think they know ... but they never do ... because no one ever sees what's inside."

"I guess it's just that I worry sometimes that I am going to end up being his biggest mistake. Do you have any idea what that's like to feel that way about someone you love that much?"

"Yeah, I know that feeling well."

I had always wondered about him and Jeff. Like that night when we were all out carousing, he joked around about Jeff ... but I always wondered if that was mostly show ... because the way he looked at Jeff when he thought no one was watching, well, I just hoped Jeff deserved that. When I told Paul that, he was indignant. It made me chuckle at him. He said he barely deserved to be in the same room with a man like Jeff ... that I had no idea how lucky he was. But I heard something else in his voice ... insecurity to match my own when it came to deserving love from a good man.

"I can't believe you're insecure! You are such a good guy."

"If you only knew ..." he said.

I reached over and put my hand over his heart. "Look how you took care of me tonight."

"Yeah well, you're a mate," he said as he put his hand over mine. "... and a girl. I mean I might be a poofta but I can still be a gentleman."

I thought he was drifting off to sleep. I told him he couldn't. That he had to stay up with me, keep me company until I was not dizzy anymore. I told him to tell me how he met Jeff. He just said, "In a club."

That was all he was going to say but I wouldn't let him off that easy ... you know, I can be so rude when I'm drunk and happy. I just kept after him until he finally, grudgingly said, "I used to go to this place ... gay club. I was kinda well known there ... you know? Look, Ann...to be honest...it's a bit embarrassing to talk about it with a woman."

It drew me up short. "I understand. You don't have to explain."

For some reason though, it was like he got on a roll. Or probably, it was just that all the drinking and the rather unfortunate need to take care of me had lowered whatever inhibition had always kept us as nothing more than nodding acquaintances in the Pub. Because he just started talking. And I just let him.

"I was a little tart," he said, almost belligerent. "This place was pretty high end, lot of older guys ... loaded...rich guys ... sugar daddies. I was very popular...they kept me in designer clothes and I ... you know? No different from what lots of girls do?"

"I suppose. I was never quite that fast or that confident." 

"Yeah, well many are...they want a rich boyfriend. He wants young meat. It's whoring by another name ... so that was me. Worked on a building site by day, played the field at night."

"And Jeff went to this place too?"

"Now and again I saw him there. He was just this guy. First time I saw him, I thought - what's he doing here? Thought he was straight." He paused; I watched his eyes flicker across the ceiling. I imagined him remembering seeing Jeff in some meat market bar. "He's young. Some of them liked a bit of what he was offering. Hey, look...he needed it like anyone else did, but he never really liked the people. But you generally get laid. You know? Thing is, Jeff's not really a girl, you know."

"Yeah, I did know that."

"I mean he isn't into submission."

"Oh."

"But if you're desperate ...this is pretty sordid, Ann. You don't want to hear it."

"But I do actually ... I want to understand," I said. He turned his head. Our eyes met. It was one of those fragile moments, the kind that help make you friends.

"Well, one night, I saw him there. He smiled over at me. It was kinda sweet ... innocent ... just a smile. I mean, no one was innocent in there, y'know? ... I got this sort of feeling: 'Jesus, someone's gonna hurt you, mate.' It was like seeing some pretty young thing in a Dracula film ..."

"... and you wanted to protect him."

"Yeah. Which was weird ... 'cos I was one of the vampires." He closed his eyes for just a moment. "So I went up to him and asked him his name ... and we talked. I mean, really talked ... about normal things ...just sat down and talked ..."

"Wow ... how did that feel?"

"Fucking great," he said, in a voice that was equal parts tough and awestruck. "But I was with someone ... and it got a bit heavy so I had to back off. I didn't want anyone to start on him, you know?"

"I remember the first time Max and I just talked ... it just takes on such big proportions, doesn't it? Like you know it means something but you're afraid to really let yourself believe."

"Yeah! That's it exactly ... you know this person is just different ... like it isn't about sex anymore. You know you fancy them but not for the same reasons ... like a whole different set of reasons that you didn't know existed."

"And it's so confusing, isn't it?"

"Yeah ... I told him to go home. I said go and find a decent place to hang out. I think he hung around a while that night but I didn't talk to him again ... A few weeks later I saw him in town. He was just walking along this street. So I stopped the car and said hello." He shook his head at the memory. "I mean it wasn't the sort of thing I do ... but I just did it anyway."

"That was brave of you."

"He was cool ... just had a chat about this and that ... and then he asked me if I fancied meeting him for a drink some night ... So I did ... and we became friends ... I mean friends ... no sex. Just friends like guys do -- went to a match, had a drink now and again. I realised I'd never had a friend."

"Never?"

"Well, at school I did ... but ... I always knew I was gay. So I hung around with guys and I was just, you know? Trying be part of all that. But if they'd known, they would have bashed my head in. I come from Liverpool ... they don't have time for men like me."

I can't even begin to imagine what that would feel like. Even as he told me, it still was beyond my grasp. He said that even as he tried to hide his difference ...playing football, dating girls ... that the straight guys of his neighborhood somehow just knew. So he drew away from them. Started hanging around gay bars. He was only 15.

"You can imagine what a draw I was. You just get passed around ..."

"Man, that makes me ache for you, the way you say that."

"It wasn't pretty," he said. But at least they made him feel he belonged. He was living two lives then: the one where he was accepted and the rest of his life, where he had to fake it best he could. Eventually, his family realized he was gay. They kicked him out. Just like that.

From then on, he just kept to himself while he kept up the pretenses at work but went to the gay bars at night.

"Sounds like such a lonely life."

"Well, you think you have a lot of friends but they're not real friends. I only realised that when I met Jeff. I couldn't believe that he was gay and he lived with regular people ... that he told everyone ... and people generally accepted it. And he said to me, you are being defined by it and you shouldn't let who you sleep with define you. That was pretty fucking amazing ... to me anyway. It was funny ... here was me, this tough little shit, thought Jeff needed looking after and he has spent the last few years looking after me."

"Must be love."

"I'm still not the man he is ... but I know what I want to be and I'm trying ... Thing is: why the fuck does he bother with me? That's what I never understand. I mean, the sex is great but sex is just sex. You know what I mean? I'm high bloody maintenance in every bloody way."

Why do people love other people? Here're the brilliant conclusions we came to in that inebriated conversation: sometimes, only the two people involved know why they are in love with the other. Sometimes, even they don't understand.

"That's the odd thing about love. That's why people outside, they just don't know. Me and Jeff alone -- we're not like we are in public ... we don't have to be. I expect that you and Maximus aren't either. I mean, it's hard to imagine but he must be needing just what all blokes need."

"No, you're right. When we're alone, we are different with each other. We don't let the truly private parts of what we are show."

"I hate it when people come up and say others will never make it. I want to say...how do you know? How the fuck do you know? It's like they want them to fail. Well, call me a silly old queen but I always want people to make it ... 'cos if they do -- so will I."

"Yeah, I think the same thing all the time."

It's funny. Me and Paul were so alike in how we didn't think we deserved the love we had ... but how we valued it as the one treasure in our lives. Odd that this is how we learned we are kindred spirits. What a night.

"Do you ever see your family anymore, Paul?" I asked him, taken by this image of him, cast off and alone until Jeff came into his life.

"No. Well, I see my sister ... she calls from time to time but the rest seem to have swept me under the carpet. Jeff encouraged me to get back in touch ... said he'd come home with me but they were pretty offensive to him so I just walked out. I wouldn't put him through it."

"I'm sorry. That would kill me to have that happen."

"Well, I warned him but he made me. He said I had to give them a chance and maybe show them that we weren't freaks ... but they just were embarrassed by it all. They feel like I shame them -- how could they have a son like me? ... So, he's all I have, Ann. He's my family."

"I never will understand how families can waste so much time -- when did it happen that you changed from the boy they loved to the boy they couldn't let themselves love anymore just because he was different than what they thought he should be?"

"I chose to live in some twilight world ... 'cos it was safer.  Jeff taught me how to embrace both worlds ... there are not many who can do that."

We compared how wonderful and perfect Jeff was. How he's got great taste in love. How he is so perfect that he actually doesn't see his perfection ... that he thinks he's boring and normal; worries that Paul will leave him for someone more exciting. Everyone has their hang-ups and weak spots, Paul said. Even Max, I said.

"I think Max feels like he's somehow got to be more like a modern man, like I need that ... but I never quite can understand that because I think he is the only man I'd ever love. Here he is, a man for whom every single thing he ever knew is gone. But what isn't gone are the things that I admire most: it is him, his essence, what he is capable of being for me ... that is what makes me love him."

"Maybe that is what the clue is for you ... like you are this quintessential modern woman and yet you admire everything he is. You are his modern world; you bridge the two worlds. He doesn't have to hide or pretend when he is with you."

"That is so beautiful to think. I do think I see more and more each day that he shows me things about him I know scare him to put on display, you know? Not like he's ashamed -- just that he lets his guard down with me and is enjoying the peace of being able to do that."

"He's got it all locked away and you let him take it all out and want to see it. How many people really want to know a man like that? I mean, they want him to be this rock but inside he must want to set that down."

"The truth is, when he sets it down, he is even more beautiful to me ... and I would do everything and anything to protect him."

"Takes a lot to make a man like that show his needy side ... you know....this is making me cry. I always cry when I'm drunk. Let's have a good cry...come here....I need a cuddle."

"Me, too, can't you hear me sniffling?" I rolled right into his body and wrapped my arms around his waist. "God, all I keep thinking about, as maudlin as it sounds, is that he is just everything I consider important in my life."

"Why is that maudlin?"

"It just sounds it to me, like I'm expecting to lose it someday."

"Tell me about it. I live in abject fear that one day I'll do something and Jeff will look at me with disdain. I don't know if I can ever change that. But ... maybe if you do, you stop trying?"

"Or maybe you stop realizing how special what you have is and how it would kill you to lose it."

How we got from there to Paul suddenly just telling me about their courtship ... who knows? Things have a way of evolving like that when two drink-happy people get maudlin, eh?

He said it took forever for them to move from friendship to lovers. They both thought the other was only interested in being mates. But then Jeff made a move even though he feared Paul would run a mile. It was like a romantic movie, Paul said, but with sport. He makes me laugh. He said they were watching rugby on television. Oz scored. Jeff just kissed him. Just like that. Said he was feeling emotional. Said he'd been wanting to do it all night. Paul said, do you want to watch the second half of the game? Jeff said he'd prefer taking him to bed.

After I ooohed over the romance of it all, Paul wheedled out of me all about the first time Max and I were intimate. I talked instead about how when we first met, we just really seemed to rub each other wrong and how Max was forever pushing my buttons. Except I had this wild crazy crush on him even still. I started talking about our first night together but then I got so embarrassed. It seemed so tawdry compared to him and Jeff. But he wouldn't let me not say, and I figured everyone at the Pub already knew pretty much anyway. So I told him ... about me, Max, Johnny. That one night. And I also told him how it was Max who was there, taking care of me, in the morning after.

When I finished, I was suddenly so aware of what I'd just said ... the intimate nature of what I'd just revealed. I said he had to promise me that he'd never tell Max I had told him. And he joked at first but then he was so calm to just say that he never betrayed a friend's confidence because he values friendship too much. And I thought about this boy, laying there next to me, who'd told me just a few minutes ago about how he didn't have that many friends until Jeff came into his life. No, I couldn't imagine Paul wouldn't have gone to his grave before betraying a friend considering how he valued them.

We were both coming down from our high. Crashing. I wasn't as dizzy. I was sleepy. We told each other a silly story about flirting misadventures. We were slaphappy and giggling even though it was all quite pathetic.

I said, "We are both such sad sacks -- we're lucky we found ourselves in the vicinity of men who would save us from ourselves."

"Too right. God, we are so lucky. Not just that bloody Curry who's lucky ... if he says that 'lucky, lucky, lucky' crap once more ..."

I gave this huge yawn. Paul chuckled at the interruption to whatever he was about to say about Lachlan. "I'm getting sleepy," I said, sounding about 5 years old.

"Me, too ... I think I better go..."

"Don't go! I feel too comfy right now," I murmured as I snuggled in against his body. 

So he offered to stay until I fell asleep. But the truth is, he was way too tired to leave the comfort of that bed. He teased me that I'd have to keep my hands to myself ... I told him I'd turn over so I'd put my hands out of temptation's reach. We nestled into our pillows. I was already half dreaming of Max.

"Paul?"

"Hmmmmmm?"

"You are something so wonderful."

"You too......your hair smells great...you must tell me what you use...."

I don't remember another noise. I don't even remember dreaming. I was just so dead to the world.

It was the most innocent night. It was filled with innocent revelations. It was two almost strangers revealing the depth of their love for the two people they could not live without.

And this is the secret. I protect everything I have that matters to me, by keeping from Max any hint of something I don't think I could expect him to believe. And I have never once felt guilty for keeping it from him.