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11: The Man

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My phone rang then with Lester’s custom ring tone, “The Man,” by The Killers. “Hey,” I said. “Listen, I didn’t mean anything about the Bureau moving me. I’m settled where I am and I have no interest in going anywhere else.”

“I know. I overreacted. It’s my bad record popping up.”

Lester had endured his share of heartache, crushing on other jocks who either weren’t gay, or weren’t willing to come out of the closet, and he was sensitive to anything that might lead to us breaking up.

“You still want to look at apartments today?” he asked. “I’ve got a demo tonight but I have a few hours free.”

We agreed that he’d pick me up in half an hour, and we’d drive to Doral. I assumed that we’d have dinner together, and I’d help him at his demo. Then I remembered what Roger always said about assuming.

I dressed and put together my overnight bag, and I was on my phone making a list of properties when Lester texted he was turning down my street.

I slid into the seat beside him and pecked him on the cheek. “I’ve got a couple of places we can look at,” I said, as he backed out of the driveway.

I kept tapping away at my phone as we drove. We looked at apartments in three different complexes, and Lester had something to complain about at each one. At the first, the rooms were too small, at the second the gym not up to his standards, and the third was too close to the highway and too noisy.

None of those mattered to me, but I let Lester take the lead. There was still an undercurrent between us, and I didn’t want to rock the boat.

“Maybe we should look at renting a house,” he said, after we left the third place.

“But a house wouldn’t have a pool or a gym,” I said.

He shrugged. “That isn’t a deal breaker. We could still get memberships.”

Even though it might set us off again, I asked, “Are you sure you want to do this? We don’t have to move in together if you aren’t ready.”

He stiffened for a moment, then relaxed. “I’m being a prima donna, aren’t I?”

“No. You seem nervous. That’s okay, I am too.”

“What if we move in together and start to piss each other off? Then we’re trapped by a lease.”

“Leases can be broken. Or one of us can stay and get another roommate.”

“But I don’t want to lose you.”

“Lester. You’re not losing me, and I’m not losing you. If we move in together and it doesn’t work out, then we’ll work from there. It doesn’t do either of us any good to imagine the worst.”

“You’re right as always, G-Man.” He reached over with his right hand and grabbed my left. “I’m lucky I found you.”

“Back at you.”

It was nice to have the air clearer between us, but I knew that there would be more arguments before we closed the deal.

We had an easygoing dinner. I told him about how Yulirus had reacted to all the art at Jesse Venable’s house, and we speculated about how things would work out for them. Then we drove to a bar on South Beach where Lester had a demo scheduled, and we both worked our asses off for the next couple of hours. I had to drive his SUV back to Fort Lauderdale because he was so exhausted from hauling cases of whiskey, making drinks and talking until his throat was dry.

Sunday morning we slept in, then went to the gym together, where all Lester’s exhaustion of the night before disappeared, and he put me through a punishing workout.

I was ready to collapse by the time we were finished. “Jesus, if you’re going to work me this hard I don’t know that I want to live with you,” I said. “You’ll kill me within a month.”

“Just want you to be the best damn G-Man you can be. Besides, if we’re both working nine-to-fives we won’t have that much time to work out.”

There was that phrase again. Wanting me to be the best G-Man I could be. Was that all he saw of me—a government agent who had to be in good physical shape? And what did he mean about less time to work out? Exercising was one of the few things we did together on a regular basis. Well, that and sex. If we lost that “us time” what did it mean for our relationship?