Not accustomed to being home in the middle of the day, Raymond treated himself to a salami and cheese sandwich for lunch, with a few potato chips on the side. Absorbed in his own thoughts, he had come straight home after an interview with FBI agents.
The interview had gone well, Raymond thought. The red-faced man with the short hair of a military officer had spent the first few minutes talking about the upcoming football season. Asking Raymond what kind of team his brother’s Northwestern Wildcats were going to have and what would happen if Northwestern ever played Raymond’s alma mater, Alabama. He told him his father would sit on the Northwestern side while his mother would split her time equally.
“Sounds like you have a very supportive family,” the agent said.
“I do,” Raymond said quietly.
The only tension occurred when the agent said, “I understand you live an alternative lifestyle.” There was that word again, he thought. “Lifestyle.”
“If you mean I’m gay, then I guess the answer is yes.”
The agent came back quickly with a question. “You guess?”
“I’m gay,” Raymond said. Never in a million years did he envision a day when he would be telling an FBI agent that he did men. The agent asked for the correct spelling of Trent’s name and date of birth and that was that.
Sitting at the table in the airy skylit kitchen, Raymond assumed the interview was going to be like a police interrogation. Two men in tight gray suits of impressive girth, spouting off question after question about his life. “Where were you, Mr. Tyler, when Waco went up in flames?” “Did you ever cheat on a college exam or your taxes?” “Have you ever cheated on your lifetime partner.” But it turned out to be nothing like that. Just two guys talking about football.
Raymond had taken the last bite of his sandwich when the phone rang. He swallowed his fruit punch and grabbed the wall phone. He thought it might be his father or Trent. Both men had been more nervous than Raymond about the interview. His father had called him the night before and even called him on the car phone this morning advising Raymond to just look them in the eyes and tell the truth or “your version of the truth.” Raymond thought his father’s advice came from spending many years defending people whose version of events was their only defense.
“Hello.”
“I got a call ’bout you,” the voice said. Raymond knew the voice. Couldn’t forget it if he wanted to.
“Basil Henderson,” he said.
“Raymond Tyler. Whassup?”
“You, Mr. Henderson. Who called you about me?”
“Said they were from the FBI. Asked me what kind of lawyer you were,” Basil said.
“And what did you tell them?”
“Told them you kept me out of jail. Told ’em it cost me a lot of money.”
“Anything else?”
“Naw, then they wanted to talk about football. Asked me if I was the former pro player. I told them, you the FBI—don’t cha know who you talking to?”
Basil Henderson wasn’t exactly what Raymond would call a friend. He was more like an associate. Raymond met the unforgivingly handsome Basil while living in New York under some strange circumstances. Basil was paying Raymond’s best friend, Kyle, for sex. Basil’s closet door was tighter than the doors at Fort Knox; one of those people who depend on their own version of the truth regarding everything. Raymond and Basil would reunite some years later in Atlanta when Raymond represented Basil after he beat up a gay guy making a pass at him. It didn’t matter that Basil was in the wrong and was gay or bi himself. Basil would never refer to himself by either of those terms.
After he settled the case, Raymond had done the unthinkable. He began an affair with his client. It was a passionate and powerful relationship. Just the sound of Basil’s voice took Raymond back to a humid summer night when they made love in a swimming pool. Raymond hated to admit to himself how many times he thought of that night. Even though it had been over five years ago, Raymond could still remember their first kiss, and the way the kiss made him feel. Like he had a fever covering his entire body. The heat would break when Raymond thought about the night he spent amid Basil’s clothes, trapped in his closet while he made love to a female friend.
When Ray and Basil’s relationship ended, the two maintained a strange connection. Both knowing how to push the other’s buttons, and doing it whenever there was an opening. But today, Raymond decided to handle Basil with kid gloves. He knew it wouldn’t be beyond Basil to call the agents back and say, “I forgot to tell you we fucked. Often!”
“When you asked the FBI agent if he knew who he was talking to, what did he say?” Raymond asked.
“Aw, he just laughed. So why is the FBI calling me about you?”
Raymond shared his big news and how the FBI was checking into past cases and former clients. Raymond was not surprised Basil’s case had attracted the FBI’s attention. Raymond’s “alternative lifestyle” would undoubtedly cause the bureau to dig up quite a few people from his past.
“Man, that’s deep. My buddy is going to be a judge. Ain’t that some shit,” Basil said.
“We’ll see. So how are you? The last time we talked you were having some problems,” Raymond said.
“Everything’s on the down low. Still doing the football commentating gig. How’s your little brother?”
“He’s doing great! I think he might start this year,” Raymond said proudly.
“Cool. Maybe the next time I’m in Chicago I’ll look him up. Maybe I can give him a few pointers,” Basil laughed. Raymond ignored the last comment. He didn’t want to even think about what kind of pointers Basil might be talking about.
“So are you still dating the young lady in Chicago? I think her name was Yolanda,” Raymond said. From their last conversation, Raymond felt he already knew the answer.
“Naw,” Basil said quickly. Exactly what Raymond was thinking.
“So who you dating?”
“Nobody. How’s yo’ boy?”
“You mean my partner, Trent?”
“Whatever.”
“He’s cool.”
“So when you heading to New York, so we can hang?” Basil quizzed.
“No time soon. I’m busy trying to wrap up all my cases and get ready for the confirmation process,” Raymond said.
“Maybe I’ll see you at a Northwestern game. I know we’re covering a few of ’em.”
“Maybe. So, Basil, it’s been nice talking to you.”
“Same here,” Basil said.
Both men hung up thinking about their passionate escapades. Basil thinking if he could just get Raymond alone for one more night. Raymond thinking if you touched the stove more than once, soon you’d get burned.