Twenty-Four

Ethan had kept himself busy for most of the day. He’d discovered that none of his brothers had been in trouble with the law, that it wasn’t as easy to run a New Mexico license plate as he’d hoped, and that his mother’s neighborhood had become rather sketchy over the past year. The number of crimes reported had more than quadrupled in that time. He’d arrived at Mamá’s house just after noon, and she’d immediately insisted on feeding him lunch, which proved she couldn’t stay mad at her oldest son for long. He’d then tackled some chores that were difficult for an aging, though still feisty, woman—trimming hedges, repairing the roof, cleaning out a slow drain, replacing the broken window in her bedroom, and adding some bright-as-the-sun security lighting to the exterior of the house. When he’d finally sat down for the delicious dinner she’d prepared—her tamales were to die for—he felt he’d earned a meal. She’d insisted they watch Entertainment Tonight, which didn’t interest him in the least, but he was too exhausted to care. Until a segment about a very familiar couple filled the screen.

“Oh, look, Ethan,” Mamá said, pointing excitedly at the television. “That’s Reagan. Look, it’s Reagan.”

Ethan’s heart dropped, and he prepared himself to listen to all kinds of derogatory statements about the woman he loved.

“. . . over the past week, allegations of her affairs with various men. So everyone was surprised when her current boyfriend, a guitarist in the hard rock band Sinners, popped the question in Central Park.”

Ethan blinked at the TV, not responding to his mother’s questions about the man who’d stolen Reagan from him. Trey was on one knee presenting a ring to Reagan. Ethan’s ears were buzzing too loudly for him to hear Trey’s proposal, but going by the way Reagan tackled him to the ground and kissed him, she’d obviously said yes. She appeared so overjoyed, puppies could take lessons from her.

“I can’t fucking believe this,” Ethan said, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“Ethan, watch your language,” Mamá said. She placed a comforting hand on his knee. “You still love her then?”

“Of course I still”—fucking—“love her!”

“Oh, mijo, I’m so sorry.” She tried to take his phone. “You shouldn’t call her when you’re so upset.”

“I’m not calling her, I’m calling him. He should have at least warned me that he planned to ask her to marry him.”

While Mamá gave him a puzzled look, he dialed Trey’s number. A quick glance at the clock told him that Trey would be onstage in a few minutes, so it was unlikely that he’d answer. When he did, Ethan forced words out through the tight fist squeezing his throat. “You asked her to marry you?”

“I was hoping to tell you before you found out secondhand. I didn’t know they’d air the story tonight.”

“Why is there a story at all, Trey? How long have you been waiting for me to leave so you could do this behind my back?” It wasn’t the actual proposal that upset him. It was that they’d done it with absolutely no input from him.

“It wasn’t like that. I planned it on a whim. Sinners had a press conference this morning and the reporters started asking about Sed’s upcoming wedding and we had to keep diverting questions about me and Reagan and I’d just had enough. I figured if we were engaged like Sed and Jessica, the press—the real press—would focus on that instead of all that bullshit that ridiculous tabloid printed. And it worked, E. All the paparazzi have cleared out since I asked her.”

“You planned it this morning?”

“Yeah.”

“And you couldn’t find a moment in your day to give me a call and at least warn me that this was happening?”

“Reagan said you’d call me after you came out. That I wasn’t under any circumstances to call you first.”

Ethan took a deep breath, recognizing the anger building inside him. “That’s your excuse?”

“Get on the stage,” Ethan heard someone say in the background.

“I’m in the middle of a very important phone call,” Trey said to them.

There were sounds of a scuffle and then a somewhat familiar voice—maybe Jake, the guitar technician—said, “He’ll call you back.” And then the call disconnected.

Ethan sighed in frustration and called his other lover. The one that still had an hour before she had to be in Trey’s position.

“Ethan!” she answered, sounding like she was having the time of her life. There was a whole lot of feminine giggling going on in the background. “How did your mom take the news?”

“Not well. She doesn’t understand the real reason why I’m so pissed at the two of you. Why I’m hurt.” Ethan was pretty sure he’d never admitted to being hurt to anyone in his entire life.

“Huh?”

“Did you think I’d be okay with you two getting engaged behind my back? Don’t you think you should have consulted me before flaunting your happiness all over national television?”

“Television? Wait, what are you talking about? Didn’t you call to tell us you finally came out?”

Ethan slapped himself in the face and tried to wipe his frustration away. It didn’t work. “I’m sitting here having dinner with my mother.” He glanced at Mamá and found her staring at him, eyes wide, hands mangling a dish towel. “And what do we see on Entertainment Tonight but my boyfriend asking my girlfriend to marry him. On national fucking television.”

“What are you talking about, mijo?” Mamá asked quietly.

“We were on TV?” Reagan asked.

“Yes! Do you really think that’s the best way for me to find out about this?”

“Oh, Ethan, he should have called you. I should have called you. We suck. Both of us. We were going to tell you everything the next time you called. We figured that would be well before the media announced our engagement.”

And now for the million-dollar question. “So does this mean I’m no longer a part of your relationship with Trey?” His voice cracked, and he closed his eyes, taking breaths to steady himself for whatever she’d tell him.

“Of course not. This is just a publicity stunt, Ethan. It has nothing to do with how we really feel.”

“So you don’t want to marry him?”

“I do. I want to marry you too.”

“It doesn’t work that way.”

“I know,” she said, all the happiness completely gone from her tone. He couldn’t help but think he was responsible for that. It was his fault she was no longer celebrating her engagement to Trey, and he couldn’t stand to hear the turmoil in her voice.

“I’ll let you get ready for the show.”

“Ethan,” she said, her voice raw with emotion. “If you’d asked me first, I would have said yes.”

“I wasn’t aware that you were in such a rush to get married.”

“Neither was I.” She laughed, and the sound made him think that maybe things would be okay. But not as long as he was in Texas. He had to get back to them. When he left them to their own devices, they gave in to impulse and made rash decisions. They needed someone sensible in their relationship. They needed him. And he wasn’t about to step down unless they forced him to go. He should have never left in the first place. Hell, he couldn’t even remember why he’d left.

Then he caught sight of his mother’s ashen face where she sat on the sofa staring at nothing, and it all came back to him in a rush.

“I’m going to talk to Mamá now,” he told Reagan. “It’s time.”

“Past time,” she said. “Hurry back to us.”

“I will. You two can’t be trusted without me there to balance you out.” He was teasing, so was glad when she chuckled.

“You can’t leave us anywhere.”

He disconnected the call and shoved his phone into his pocket. He was pretty sure his mother had the gist of the situation from hearing his side of the conversations, but she needed to hear the entire truth directly from him. It would mean a lot to him if she would stand firmly in his corner.

He sat next to her on the sofa, staring straight ahead, because seeing any doubt or hurt on her face would have made the task unbearable.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said.

“I’m not sure I want to hear this.”

“Probably not,” he said, “but I’m going to tell you everything I’ve been keeping a secret for the past couple of years. I hope you’ll understand.” He felt asking for her blessing was too much, but if she understood and accepted him for who he was, that would be enough.

“Ethan . . .”

There was a knock at the front door. Ethan cursed, Mamá chastised, and Juan let himself into the house. “Your door was unlocked,” Juan said, approaching the sofa and kissing Mamá’s cheek. “Carlos would be furious.” He slammed a fist into Ethan’s shoulder, but Ethan was in no mood to horse around. “Do I smell tamales?” He took a deep whiff and then gasped in surprise when Ethan stood from the sofa, lifted him from the floor, and sat him next to their mother on the sofa.

“I wanted to tell her alone, but since my brothers have the worst possible timing, I’ll just tell you both.” And let the chips fall where they may.

“Tell us what?” Juan glanced from Ethan to Mamá and back again. Couldn’t he see the turmoil in their mother’s eyes? No, he’d always been clueless about such things. No matter.

“Reagan is getting married,” Mamá said. She tilted her chin down and stared at Ethan. “To your boyfriend?”

“What?” Juan looked at Mamá as if she’d grilled hotdogs on Cinco de Mayo. “Ethan has a boyfriend?”

“I’m not exactly straight,” Ethan said, unable to stop himself from hedging.

“You’re gay?” Juan’s jaw dropped.

“I’m not exactly gay either.”

“This makes no sense,” Mamá said.

Ethan pulled a hand through his hair and started pacing. He should have thought more about how to say this. It didn’t help that he had an audience of two instead of one.

“About seven years ago, I had this partner,” he said, deciding to start at the very beginning, long before even Reagan had come into the picture.

“While you were with the police?” Mamá asked.

Ethan nodded. “He was openly gay.”

“Hernandez.” Juan spat the name as if it were bitter on his tongue. Juan had been all of twelve at the time. Ethan was surprised he remembered him.

“Yeah,” Ethan said, though the name wasn’t important. “I found myself attracted to him, and after several months things progressed and . . .” His gaze shifted to his mother. Awkward. “It wasn’t a romantic relationship. Just . . .” Way, way awkward. Especially when his mind was replaying their times together like a gay porn reel. “. . . physical.”

“Uh, you fucked a guy?” Juan asked, twisting his face in disgust.

Mamá slapped her youngest. “Do not be vulgar. Go on, Ethan.”

“We didn’t last long, a few weeks, and I started dating a new woman.”

“Lisa?” Juan asked. And when Ethan nodded, Juan added, “Ah yeah, she was fine. I’d like to lick her honey.” So that horn-dog thing of Juan’s had started young.

Mamá slapped him again.

“She was gorgeous,” Ethan said, “and I couldn’t get enough of her. At first.”

Juan covered his ears with both hands. “Don’t say it.”

“I sought out another man. Again nothing romantic. It was purely physical.”

“You cheated on Lisa with a man?” Mamá asked.

“No, it was after we broke up. Right before I was fired from the force. But I did cheat on Reagan with a man.”

“I’m going to throw up,” Juan said.

“I don’t know why I cheated on her. I loved Reagan and still do, I just . . .” He’d needed some cock in his life. But he couldn’t exactly say that to his mamá.

“Despicable,” she said. “Does Reagan know this, that you cheat? Like your papá, you cheat!”

Ethan nodded, feeling like slug slime on the bottom of Mamá’s shoe. “She caught us together.” Fucking in the shower. “And that’s when we broke up. But we decided to stay roommates and friends.”

“You can’t be friends with a chick you’ve banged,” Juan said knowledgably. “Not possible.”

Didn’t Ethan know it? Those long hellish months of living with Reagan, but not as a couple, had nearly done him in. Watching her move on to other men had seemed a cruel and unusual punishment for his infidelity. But she probably hadn’t seen it that way.

“So I tried to be exclusively gay during that time, but what I really wanted was to be with a woman,” Ethan said. One woman and only one woman. “But whenever I tried to be with another woman, it felt like I was cheating on Reagan and I couldn’t do it.”

“Ah, mijo, you are so confused.”

“I used to be. Until I met Trey. Trey is unlike anyone I’ve ever met before. Trey is like me.”

“Disgusting?” Juan was actually taking this much better than Ethan had assumed he would, so his barb didn’t sting. Much.

“Bisexual.”

“Only women can be bisexual,” Juan said. “And, guey, that is some hot shit right there.”

Mamá slapped him again. She apparently needed to strike harder. Her punishments did no good.

“Go on,” she said to Ethan.

“The three of us got together. At first it was just physical between us. And I was okay with that, I thought. But I still had feelings for Reagan, and a person can’t be with Trey and not fall in love with him.”

Mamá smiled. “You’re happy now.”

He nodded because his throat was too tight to get out the yes that was on the tip of his tongue.

Mamá rose from the sofa and reached up to cup his face. Her dark eyes sparkled with tears as she stared into his eyes. “That’s all Mamá wants for her boys. Happy life. Happy always.”

“So explain how the physical part of this works,” Juan said, twisting his fingers into various configurations.

Mamá turned to scowl at him. “Stop that or I’ll send you home.”

Ethan was starting to see why Mamá needed her own place. If she moved in with Juan or Carlos, she couldn’t send them away when she was perturbed with them. She could starve them, however.

“I need to get back to the tour,” Ethan said. “I’m away for one day and they get engaged.”

“So sorry they hurt you,” Mamá said as she slipped her arms around Ethan’s waist to hug him.

“I’m not hurt.” Not too much. “They need me there. They’re both a little reckless. Especially Trey.” He chuckled, feeling so light-hearted he wanted to dance. Or at least fidget a bit. His mother knew that he was in love with a man, and with a woman, and she had yet to kick him out of her house in disgust. .

“I will meet this man you love, no?” Mamá asked.

“How about on Tuesday? There’s a show in Atlanta—”

“Tuesday!”

“I’ll fly you anywhere you want to go for a concert. You can see Reagan again and meet Trey. Or visit us in Los Angeles when we’re on a break from the road.”

“Does Carlos know you’re queer?” Juan asked.

Mamá spun around so fast that Ethan had to take a step backward. She grabbed Juan by one ear and pulled him off the sofa. “I don’t like that word,” she said. “You will never say it in my house again.”

“I’m sorry,” Juan said, wincing.

“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to your brother.”

Juan’s gaze focused on Ethan, but he didn’t meet his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. Mamá released his ear, and he scrambled to safety. “If you want to screw men, that’s your business.”

Mamá groaned in frustration and threw her hands up. “Why are you like this? I raised you wrong?”

“It’s okay,” Ethan said. “Not everyone will understand me or accept who I am.” He was sure everyone felt like an outsider at times, if not for their sexual orientation, then for their quirks or their appearance or their ideas. Trey had come to terms with that fact long ago. Ethan was just starting to align with his wisdom.

“Your brother should accept you—he’s your blood,” Mamá said. “Where Carlos?”

“He’s in Laredo,” Juan said, “with his . . .” He glanced at Ethan nervously. “. . . uh, bros.”

“Again with this?” Mamá said. “Will he ever get a real job?”

Mamá knew Carlos was heading down a dark and dangerous path and she hadn’t bothered to mention it to Ethan? Or ask him for help in steering Carlos in a better direction?

“Does he do this often?” Ethan asked.

“Several times a week,” Mamá said, shaking her head. “He wants his mamá to die of shame, that’s what he wants.”

“It’s not so bad,” Juan said. “You support Ethan and his weird lifestyle, so why can’t you support Carlos too?”

“Is an embarrassment!” Mamá snapped.

“Why would Mamá support Carlos being in a gang?” Ethan asked. “What is he trafficking? Drugs? Humans?”

Mamá and Juan gaped at him for a long moment, and then Juan burst into raucous laughter.

“Carlos in a gang?” Juan wrapped his arms around his gut, but that didn’t diminish his mirth. “That chicken shit? Oh, that’s a good one, Ethan. I’ll have to tell him you think he’s in a gang.”

“Then . . .” Ethan was at a total loss. “Why is he riding with a bunch of dudes in yellow bandanas to border towns?”

“He plays trumpet in a mariachi band,” Juan said. “You thought he was in a gang?” He shook his head, still chuckling. “No wonder the police fired you.”

Ow, that barb stung. A lot.

“They wear ridiculous sombreros and beg tourists for money,” Mamá said, crossing her arms. “So disrespectful to our heritage.”

“Mamá hasn’t actually seen him perform,” Juan said. “Her friend Gloria—”

“Gloria is no friend of mine,” Mamá said, pretending to spit on the absent ex-friend. “Puta.”

Ethan’s eyebrows shot up. Wow, she must be beyond upset if she was calling other women names.

“The puta brought Carlos’s shameful profession to Mamá’s attention.” Juan leaned close to Ethan and whispered, “He’s actually doing quite well with it. They’ve got a manager now and everything.”

“Big black guy?” Ethan asked.

Juan nodded. “Dimitri.”

“From New Mexico. Drives a beat-up white van.”

“That’s him.”

So all the pieces fit. Ethan felt like an ass for suspecting his brother was up to no good, but why had he tried to hide the truth from him? Probably for the same reason Ethan had hidden his sexuality. He hadn’t wanted his brother to disrespect his life choices.

“I’d like to see him play sometime,” Ethan said. “Mamá, you should come with me.”

She shrugged and headed for the kitchen. “I’ll make sweets now.”

Juan exchanged a knowing glance with Ethan. “She forgives us,” Juan said. “She feeds us.”