CHAPTER TWO

 

 

IT MADE Wyatt extraordinarily happy that everyone was impressed with the layout. “Don’t forget to get a lei,” he announced, pointing to where they hung over the dining room table.

“Oh!” Cedar pumped his fist. “I want one of the ganja ones!”

“Me too,” said Scott.

Would wonders never cease? Scott? Wanted one of the marijuana leis? Was it one of the final signs of the apocalypse (that Wyatt didn’t believe in)? Wyatt almost giggled.

“I can’t believe you did all this,” said Asher, and then he answered Wyatt’s wonderings by popping a roll of the thinly sliced ham into his mouth before it even reached his plate. He might have been getting curious about his Jewish heritage for the first time since he was a kid, but it didn’t look like Asher was converting back to the religion of his grandfather anytime soon. Still, it was sweet to see the way he was watching over Peni. Sweet, lovely Peni with his caramel skin and Superman blue-black hair and the tattoos that Wyatt was dying to see.

Asher turned to his lover. “You know, Peni, you can just sit and rest. I’ll load your plate for you.”

Peni laughed. “I’m fine and you know it,” he declared and then blushed furiously when Asher told him he was far more than fine. He was delicious.

“If I was going to have a problem, wouldn’t it be with sitting?” Peni asked.

“I don’t know,” Asher said. “I think it should be me who would have trouble sitting after last night.”

Peni blushed all the more, and there were a few hoots around the table.

“I meant my pe’a,” Peni said, referring to his new tattoos.

“I know what you meant,” Asher said and gave him a sweet kiss. It really was amazing. A side of Asher that Wyatt had never expected to see. Sweet. Kind. Romantic.

“I just can’t get over the cake,” Peni said, pointing. “I mean, it’s even smoking!”

That was because Wyatt had run for the kitchen freezer, taken one of the small chunks he’d chipped off the block of dry ice, and carefully dropped it down into the juice can concealed within the cake.

“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” Sloan said as it smoked away.

“It really is something,” said Max. Broad shouldered, a shadow of a beard on his strong jaw, flashing blue eyes, and a hint of chest hair showing at his open collar, he was the one man here tonight Wyatt was attracted to. Wyatt had had more than one fantasy about seeing Max naked, like trying to dodge into the locker room at the local gym where they all worked out. Sloan had forbidden it. And that was even before the two of them hooked up. Now that they were practically married, Wyatt knew he would probably never get a look. And wasn’t that one of the first things Howard had taught him? To look?

“Hey, we’re men!” Howard had declared on many an occasion. “We like to look. You look all you want, baby.”

“That volcano must have taken you all day,” Max continued.

“It really wasn’t all that much trouble,” Wyatt said, blushing. “I started with an angel food cake pan and then when it was done, did some carving and some sculpting and threw in lots of icing and—voilà!”

“Don’t let Wyatt fool you,” Sloan said. “He’s spent like two or three evenings working on it.”

“I had to do something in honor of you coming home,” Wyatt said, turning to Peni.

“How did you make it smoke like that?” Peni asked.

“Why, magic,” Wyatt said. “After all, I am a witch.”

“You really did outdo yourself,” Scott said when he’d circled around the table to Wyatt. He dropped his chin on Wyatt’s shoulder. “Asher is going to have to work his ass off to ever top this.”

“I heard that!” Asher cried, laughing.

Wyatt grinned again. He couldn’t help it. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed all the fuss. He was only doing what he loved to do, but it had been a while since he’d been able to show off.

They all filled their plates, and Wyatt reminded them that the cocktails were in the kitchen. “I’ve got them leaded and lead-free,” he said.

“Leaded and lead-free?” Peni asked.

“With and without booze,” Wyatt explained.

“You have an alcohol-free version?” Peni asked. “I thought you once told me that gay men are required to drink.”

Wyatt smiled wistfully. “I’m changing my mind. Plus—” He glanced at Asher. “—you know….”

“Well, I’m certainly imbibing,” Cedar said and went right to the cooler in the kitchen. “I love how you decorated it.”

It hadn’t been a lot of trouble. He’d simply taken a straw mat, wrapped it around the cooler, and tied it on. He would have used a glue gun, but then, the cooler wasn’t his.

“Where did you get the tiki goblets?” Scott asked.

“It was an incredible find,” Wyatt crowed. “I got them at Michaels, in the city. I was lucky. They were on clearance. No one is having luaus this time of year. And they had exactly enough of them.” Seven, not eight, he thought with a sigh.

“Now you’re shocking me,” Asher said. “You’ve always told us we should never admit we got something cheap, on sale, or at a garage sale.”

Wyatt gave a little shrug. He was looking at all kinds of things differently these days. Watching his money was a big one. With as much as Howard had made, Wyatt had been able to get away with a lot. Without Howard he was wondering how he was going to make ends meet. He was manager of Treasures of Terra, the New Age store where he worked, but it was a small business, and he wasn’t paid a fortune. With businesses failing so much these days, it was wonderful that the store was doing as well as it was. He was really thankful that Sloan had refused to take any rent money the last two months.

 

“I hope you don’t think I’m taking advantage,” Wyatt had said while Sloan watched him make the cake, even lent a hand with the icing.

“What are you talking about?” Sloan had asked as he slathered chocolate icing where directed.

“That I spent all this money and haven’t given you a cent for rent.”

“You tried to give us money, Wyatt,” Sloan said. “And I said no. We can think about that in the future. The house is paid for. We wanted you to have a chance to get some money in the bank. A cushion.”

“I’ll make it work,” he said. “And Katherine is letting me do readings on my days off for extra money.” Katherine was his boss and the owner of Treasures of Terra.

“Readings?” Sloan glanced up. There was some icing on his nose, and Wyatt had to laugh.

“Tarot readings,” he answered.

“Did I know you did that?” Sloan looked crossed-eyed down at the end of his nose and then wiped the chocolate away and stuck his finger in his mouth.

“It’s been a long time. I did a reading for you one drunken night about five years ago.”

“Five years,” Sloan said and whistled. “Have we really known each other that long?”

“Ever since my short stint in the call center.” Wyatt winced. “That didn’t last long, did it?”

“Well you did tell a customer to kiss your ass,” Sloan said.

“My rosy red ass.” Wyatt crossed his arms. “Because she called me a fag! And I told her that I was more man than she was ever going to have and more woman than she would ever be.”

 

“Well, I don’t care where you got the goblets,” Peni said, drawing Wyatt from his musings. “I love them.”

That’s when Sebastian the crab began to croon to them from the stereo, letting them know they should take it from him, there was no place better than under the sea. That was the perfect time for them to find a place to settle in the living room. Wyatt had brought in a few dining room chairs to make sure everyone had a place to sit, and as he joined them, he looked around the room. Gods…. Lovers paired up all around him. And he was alone.

Yet… was he? Could he really look at all these people and think he was alone?

Wyatt looked from face to face to face, listened to them as they chatted, and the warmth surged into almost overwhelming love. He really was lucky. As hard as things had been these past months—how lonely he’d been lying in that bed by himself night after night and week after week—how much worse would it have been without these friends?

“Asher,” said Max. “Any word on Drunks?”

Which was the movie Asher was doing for HBO. Imagine. HBO. Asher had gone from a small stage in Kansas City to a movie for HBO. Wyatt had always insisted they would all be famous one day, and Asher, at least, was on his way.

“I think it’s scheduled for November,” Asher said.

November?” cried Wyatt. “Next November?”

“Well, this November did pass last month,” Asher replied.

“But that’s a year away! We have to wait that long?”

“Wyatt, we’ve barely begun shooting.”

But… “But the play wasn’t even two hours long! How long does it take to make a movie?”

Asher chuckled. “We’ve got about two weeks under our belts and another three more weeks to go, and that’s because they’ve added a couple of flashback scenes that take place outside of the hotel where the play took place.”

“They’ve added scenes?” asked Sloan.

Asher nodded. “Yes. That’s pretty normal for a movie. Did you know the play version of Steel Magnolias is set strictly in the beauty shop?”

Wyatt nodded. “I saw it at the Pegasus Theatre. It was pretty cool. Half the women were played by men in drag!”

“Movies are able to add all kinds of stuff. They almost always do since they don’t have the constraints of what can be done onstage. And then there’ll probably be pickups. After that there is a host of stuff that happens. Editing. Music. Promotion. I’m excited we’re only having to wait that long.”

“But a year!” Wyatt whined. He couldn’t help it. Somehow he thought it all went so much faster. Then a new thought. “How did you manage to get home this weekend if you’re still shooting?”

“I told Spencer I wanted the weekend off, and he didn’t even blink.”

“Oh,” Wyatt said. “You’re on a first name basis with him now?”

Spencer—Spencer Morrison, the actor—was the big name who was making Drunks into a movie and possibly only one of the biggest stars in Hollywood these days.

“I wanted to be here for Peni.” Asher hugged his lover close. “I didn’t tell Spencer that—he thinks it’s something else.”

Something else? Did they not know Asher was gay? Wyatt thought Asher was out of the closet. He’d slept with about a million men—it wasn’t like he’d been discreet. People would find out.

“I wanted to fly from Samoa right to Los Angeles,” Peni said. “But my family wouldn’t hear of it.”

“No, I don’t suppose they would,” Max said. “You can’t blame them. That’s the way it should be.”

That’s the way it should be, Wyatt thought. But it wasn’t like that for everybody.

Which made it all the more painful that Howard was out of his life. Howard was—had been—his entire life. His family. Howard had rescued him when his blood family had rejected him.

Only to abandon me.

He bit down on his lower lip. No. No pain tonight.

“But the advance buzz for Drunks is already good,” Asher was saying. “People are talking. They might pick it up for a series.”

“Really?” asked Scott. “This is the play you did a few months ago at the Pegasus?”

Asher nodded.

“How can they make it into a series? Wasn’t the story pretty much told?”

“Yeah. But they like the characters a lot. They want to explore the idea of what happens next.”

“Whoa.” Scott grinned. “It only proves that anything can happen.”

Wyatt grinned back. Amazing. Scott. The pessimist. Talking like anything could happen. Then, mind bouncing as usual and unable to resist—he was Wyatt Dolan after all—he asked, “So tell me, Asher. Have you seen Spencer Morrison naked?”

“Wyatt!” said Max. “How was he supposed to do that?”

Asher shook his head and then, bless his heart, blushed. Had Wyatt ever seen Asher blush? “No. But I could have. He sure offered.”

Wyatt’s mouth fell open.

“He tried to get me in bed.”

Wait. What? What had Asher just said? “Spencer Morrison?” Wyatt exclaimed. “Spencer-fucking-Morrison?”

Asher nodded.

“You know, they say he’s going to get nominated for an Oscar this year,” Scott interjected, apparently unaffected by Asher’s bombshell. “For Crosshairs.”

Wyatt shook his head, held up a hand. “You know I was mostly kidding, right? About the naked part?”

Asher grinned. “No, you weren’t. You were hoping I got a look at him in a dressing room or something….”

Wyatt bit his lip. Well. It was true.

“Well, I was standing next to him, taking a piss if you must know, and I could have looked—”

“And you didn’t?” Wyatt said, his voice a squeak. “You didn’t even peek? You could have seen Spencer-fucking-Morrison’s dick and you didn’t look? Oh—My—Gods! Sacrilege. Hand over your gay card! Now.”

Asher looked over at Peni and placed a hand on his knee. “There is only one penis I want to see these days, Wyatt.”

Peni smiled like a high-school girl. “Oh, Asher.” They kissed.

I don’t believe this! I have fallen asleep and woken back up in the twilight zone.

“You know I wouldn’t have minded,” Peni said. “I mean, if you’d peeked? After all, I certainly don’t want you to have to give up your gay card.”

Asher laughed. “Well… I might have caught a glimpse….”

Wyatt jumped to his feet, nearly spilling his plate of food. “And? And?”

“I honestly didn’t get a good look. But he was sure trying to show it to me.”

Wyatt shook his head violently, held his hands up high, and then clasped them to his chest. “Okay. Wait. I am trying to picture this.” And he could. He could! Standing next to Spencer-fucking-Morrison—only the next Matthew McConaughey or Bradley Cooper. “You are telling me that Spencer Morrison was wagging his cock at you—”

Asher laughed and gave a shrug.

“—and you didn’t look?”

“It was kind of pathetic, really.”

“His cock?” The world was coming to an end. “Spencer Morrison’s cock is pathetic?” It couldn’t be. It—could—not—be!

“No,” said Asher. “Not his cock. Him. So full of himself. Thinking all he had to do was show me his cock and I’d be on my knees. Trying to seduce me that way. As if I couldn’t resist him.”

Wyatt shook his head. If Spencer Morrison had waved his cock at him, he would have been on his knees in a flash. Of course, it had been a long time since he’d been on his knees. Sometimes he wondered if he ever would again. Then sometimes he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“I don’t even know why you care,” Asher said. “He’s not your type. Way too skinny, isn’t he?”

Wyatt opened his eyes wide. “Doesn’t matter. That was celebrity dick, Asher. You never miss a chance to look at celebrity dick.”

Everybody started to laugh.

“You know, I used to feel that way,” Scott said. “But now Cedar…. Well, I don’t need to see anybody else’s either.”

Wyatt put his hands on his hips. He was feeling a real fit coming on. “No! No-no-no-no-no!” He shook his head again.

“I would look,” Cedar said.

“Cedar!” Scott glowered at his lover.

This only caused more laughter around the room.

“Anyway,” Asher said. “When I wouldn’t look, he took another tactic. He came right into my trailer one day and all but grabbed my ass. I told him I belonged to Peter Wagner—”

Only one of the richest gay men in the country—hell, richest men in the country period—and a producer on Drunks as well.

“—and he let go of me so fast you would have thought he’d grabbed a hornet’s nest. Started apologizing like crazy. It was all I could do not to laugh at him. It’s part of what got me here this weekend. He didn’t object for one second when I mentioned I was flying home. Of course, he thinks it was to be with Peter Wagner.”

“I won’t tell him if you don’t,” Wyatt said and tried to let it sink in. Spencer Morrison was gay. And tried to show Asher his cock. Surely it would have been okay to look! Wyatt had an entire collection of celebrity nudes on his computer. Hundreds (thousands?) of pictures. But not one of Spencer Morrison. Shirtless, sure, but not even a butt shot. Howard wouldn’t have cared if Wyatt looked. Howard wouldn’t have cared if Wyatt blew him. Howard would have called him crazy for not doing so. Would have pushed Wyatt out of the way if he’d been there.

Then Wyatt noticed the way Asher was looking at Peni and the way Peni was looking back. Gods… in love. They were so in love. Had Howard ever looked at him that way?

Yes. He could remember Howard holding every door open for him, taking him to dinner, buying him single red roses. And making love to him like no one ever had before. It had been so much more than the fumbling, awkward sex he’d had with boys in high school. Boys who would call him faggot at school but happily ask him to their houses for a sleepover and an exchange of mutual blowjobs on weekends. Mutual if he was lucky, that was. Usually it meant him blowing them. And Wyatt, desperate for any human contact, accepted it.

Howard didn’t deny him anything but his ass and treated him so differently from those boys….

But even in the beginning, Howard had made it clear he could never be monogamous.

That had broken Wyatt’s heart. It had. It really had. Hard to remember that kid he used to be. The dreamer. The romantic. Looking for a knight in shining armor. Yet now it came back clearly. The ache at the idea that Howard wanted other men. How could he practically cut Wyatt’s steak for him but want other men at the same time? The first night that Howard told him they wouldn’t be monogamous, he’d gone and taken a shower. Taken a shower to muffle the sound. So Howard wouldn’t know. Taken a shower and bawled. Then Howard came home the next day with flowers, and Wyatt had been lost, totally unable to resist him. He’d decided “fuck it.” If he couldn’t have the Disney fairy tale, he’d have the next best thing.

Howard convinced him that not only were other men no threat to the two of them, but there was nothing wrong with Wyatt being with other men as well. Even on his own. He encouraged it.

How had that happened?

“You’re young,” Howard had told him. “You need to sow your wild oats, Wyatt! Try things. Try different men. Experience life. I mean, don’t you ever want to try topping?”

And he had, hadn’t he? He had found the sexual adventures to be fun. He’d decided that maybe Howard was right—it was stupid to think he could have a Harlequin Romance life (his mother had read those his whole life, and he’d snuck dozens of them late at night). But those stories weren’t real.

But…

But now, looking at his friends? Had he been right? Did they have it? Did they have everything Wyatt’s boyhood heart had ever wanted? Did Harlequin love really exist after all?

“And in a week or so,” Peni said, breaking Wyatt from his thoughts, “I’ll fly out to be with him.”

Even though the two of you will only be there a week or so? Wyatt wondered.

“We know it will only be a week or so,” Asher said as if reading Wyatt’s thoughts. “But that’s a week we’ll have together. And besides… come on… Hollywood. I want to show him around.”

Everyone agreed that was just splendid, and Wyatt managed a smile. Good for him. Good for them.

It didn’t make the ache go away, though.

And then…

…as Wyatt looked around the room, he had a sudden thought.

It seemed crazy, but…

When had the trouble really begun with Howard?

Why… why, it had been the month that Sloan met Max.

And as the sparks between the two of them turned into a fire and then true love, the fights had begun to turn serious between Wyatt and Howard.

He would never forget when Howard had ignored their veto rule—the ability they each had to nix a partner’s potential playmate. Wyatt had told Howard in no uncertain terms that he didn’t want him having sex with Chuck (Upchuck) Mueske, a complete gnome, and Howard told him he didn’t care—he was going to anyway. He wound up not doing anything, but not before Wyatt had a complete fit and stormed out.

Next, when Scott met Cedar out at Camp during the annual Heartland Queer Men’s Festival (an event that Wyatt loved and Scott had always mocked!), things only got worse. Way worse. He and Howard had a huge fight that time—their worst ever. It seemed Howard had practically raped some kid, and word was, he hadn’t worn a condom (not that a condom would have made it okay). The kid—a sweet airhead named Blue—came to admit his part in what happened. And after Wyatt and Howard had their roof-raising fight, Wyatt accepted Howard’s story. That the incident had been a role-playing game that had gone wrong. That Howard hadn’t realized he’d taken things too far….

Then, finally, Asher had found love.

Asher—who Wyatt figured would never settle down—fell in love with Peni, and suddenly Wyatt was the only one single.

How had that happened?

Well! It had happened when Wyatt had gotten off work early one day and picked up some Nilgiri chicken korma and samosas on the way home to surprise Howard and found his lover in the middle of a bareback party—fucking some guy bent over their coffee table (they’d picked it up for a steal in a little antique shop on one of their trips) while he, Howard, was getting fucked by a man with one of the biggest cocks Wyatt had ever seen (and he’d seen some huge cocks).

Howard.

Who did not get fucked.

When Wyatt got (understandably) angry—started shouting about it—Howard kicked him out. Broke up with him! Told him he was tired of Wyatt’s shit. Slapped him! Howard had never hit him. Close once or twice, maybe (he’d seen it in Howard’s eyes), but never hit him.

And now for the first time in years, he was single and his friends—every one of them without a lover in all the time he’d known them—were all quite suddenly and happily deep in wedded bliss.

What if…

What if there were something… cosmic going on? What if the gods only had so much wedded bliss to go around? What if him being in a relationship had somehow… blocked his friends from doing the same? What if their finding love meant some cosmic balance had shifted, and now he had to be alone?

Maybe this was some weight he needed to bear so his friends could be happy?

Would he ever have someone again? Would he ever have what they had? Was Howard right? That no one would ever want him?

Gods.

Please….

No.

The group began to whoop and holler, startling Wyatt out of his thoughts.

“I’m not stripping!” cried Peni.

“No,” agreed Asher. “He most assuredly is not!”

“But I do want you to see…,” Peni said.

See? See what?

“Be back in a flash.”

“I can’t wait,” Cedar was saying. “I bet he looks amazing.”

“He does,” Asher said with a sweet smile.

“I just can’t imagine the pain,” said Scott. “I looked it up on Google and found some articles that made me downright queasy.”

“I’ll bet they don’t come close to describing how bad it really was.” For a moment Asher’s face went grim. “I don’t know how he did it. I could barely make it.”

Oh gods, thought Wyatt. Did they mean…?

And to confirm Wyatt’s wonderings, Peni came back, jeans replaced by a sarong. No. A lava-lava. That is what Samoans called the colorful piece of cloth tied around Peni’s waist. It flowed around him as he walked and there was no way you could help but see the tattoos.

The pe’a.

Magnificent.

Unreal.

Almost otherworldly.

The elaborate tattoos were nothing like what Wyatt had drawn all over Peni’s legs and lower buttocks with a Sharpie last Halloween.

Nothing.

Wyatt was quite simply in awe at the sight. Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.

The pe’a began at Peni’s knees and rose up his body to his waist and higher, covering every inch of skin with black and line and pattern. Wyatt’s marker art had stopped at the waist, but Peni’s Samoan art did not. In front it did, with a sort of checkerboard just below his belly button and said navel filled with a square of black. But then, in an upward fan pattern, the tattoos swept high on his sides and over his entire lower back. There were great plains of solid ink and then dozens of radiating lines—some straight, some jagged—dots, tiny squares, and daggers spread out like a palm leaf. Peni lifted his lava-lava high, concealing only his groin, to reveal more lines radiating out across his buttocks, some that met at the top of his cleft, which was filled in with even more black.

He was beautiful.

Wyatt couldn’t speak. For a long moment, the only sounds around the room were the intakes of deep breaths and quiet gasps. As Wyatt stood there drinking in the beauty of Peni and his pe’a, he found himself feeling… spiritual.

None of this work had been done with a tattoo gun. Oh no. This ink had been inlaid deep into Peni’s flesh by tools made of fish bone and boar’s tusk. Tools carved into tiny, jagged, razor-sharp combs that were then dipped into the ink and tapped or even pounded in with a mallet. When Peni went to Samoa a couple of months ago to get his tattoos, Scott had called Wyatt, all but freaking out. He’d read what Peni was going to be doing—or having done to him—and sent Wyatt the links he’d found. Reading them had made him squeamish, even dizzy. Looking at the expansive artwork today, Wyatt could only rub at his teddy-bear tattoo on his upper arm and be embarrassed about what a big deal he’d made while getting it. His had taken an hour. Asher—and the online articles—said Peni’s had taken days. Long twelve-hour days. And if Peni had stopped the tufuga ta tatau—the tattoo artist—before it was all done, he would have brought shame on himself and his family for the rest of his life.

Again, Wyatt could only stare in wonder.

“W-well?” Peni asked.

Around him, Wyatt’s friends each opened and closed their mouths, at first not speaking. It seemed that the tattoos—the pe’a—had affected them all. They looked at Peni. They looked at each other. They looked at Asher.

Asher nodded once. “I know, right?”

Wyatt reached out, almost touched Peni’s skin, then jerked his hand back. “It’s… it’s like holy ground.”

Peni smiled, and his big black eyes turned wet. “Thank you, Wyatt.”

Then Wyatt was crying and that “thank you” somehow broke the spell that had fallen over the group and they all began to speak.

 

 

THEY CHATTED more quietly after that, though. None of the robust hilarity that often ensued on Porch Night.

They updated each other as usual.

Scott and Cedar talked about how they were going to visit Cedar’s mother, the famous rock star Cyan Carrington, for Christmas. She still hadn’t met Scott and wanted to, and Scott was as nervous as fuck about meeting her. Wyatt was agog. “Wow! You’re going to meet Cyan Carrington! You know she wrote ‘Dark Witch,’ right? And ‘Night Birds’? I mean… whoa! And her new one playing all the time: ‘Stuck out on the open road, I don’t know which way I’m supposed to go….’”

He stopped, hearing the voice of Howard in his head shouting, “Don’t give up your day job!” every time he sang. “You sound like a cat in heat!”

“Why do you think I’m so damned nervous?” Scott cried.

Sloan talked about how he might be flying out to New Hampshire for a few months to open another call center and how he didn’t like the idea of being away from Max for so long. Max didn’t like the idea either. They hadn’t even been together a year, but the opportunity was incredible.

Asher told a few tales of Hollywood and what it was like to film a movie. Peni talked about all those weeks he spent recovering from getting his pe’a and how different island life was. But it had allowed him to find out even more about his heritage.

There were polite but cautious inquires as to how Wyatt was getting along.

Then, while Wyatt went to refresh several cocktails, Peni followed him into the kitchen and asked for a couple himself.

“I thought you didn’t drink,” Wyatt said.

“Not really. Especially after that drunken night when we all went to The Male Box.” Peni rolled his eyes. “But I think I would like one tonight. Experience what you made. The ‘lead-free’ version is pretty good.”

“Well, as long as you understand the lead-in version packs a little more punch, no pun intended. So be careful.”

“I will.”

“And Asher? He’s drinking?”

“We’re experimenting. We had a glass of wine with our dinner last week. It went just fine. He drank it slow and told me he couldn’t remember actually enjoying a glass more. So I thought we could try one of these.” He pointed at the decorated cooler.

“Okay.” Wyatt nodded. Poured the fruity cocktails into the plastic tiki goblets, stopped about midway, and asked if perhaps he could half-and-half them with the nonalcoholic version. Peni thought that might be a good idea. Then just as he was about to hand them over, Peni was suddenly hugging him—holding him—in his arms. It felt so good. To just be hugged. Even by a friend. Maybe especially by a friend.

“Thank you, Wyatt,” Peni whispered into his ear.

He was taken aback. Thank you? For what? “For what?” he asked aloud.

“For being you. I love you so much. I thought of you….”

“Th-thought of me?”

“When I was getting my pe’a. Sometimes.” Peni got a faraway look on his face. “The pain….” He trembled. “It took me to this other… plane. I don’t know how to explain it. There were times that I sort of… rose out of it. Like I wasn’t in my body. Like I was… not drunk exactly. I don’t know how to explain it. Strange thoughts would come. One time I was thinking of Tangaloa—the highest Samoan god—and then…. Well. I heard you. I heard your voice in my head—talking about your Lord and Lady and the Queer Ones. And that day, you were what got me through it all.”

“Wow.” Wyatt didn’t know what to say. What did you say to that?

Peni pulled back. “When you said my pe’a was holy ground, I knew you understood. Maybe more than Asher—and I know he gets it.”

Wyatt sucked in a breath and for some reason felt like crying.

“It reminded me of something. The other day I was thinking about us. You and me. About the paths we’ve chosen to walk. The not-Christian paths. And suddenly I remembered something. Don’t you have a holy day coming? Isn’t it really soon?”

Wyatt sighed. Felt that deep ache again. “Yule,” he replied, remembering years of celebrating with Howard. And circles of friends, standing—hand in hand—celebrating the defeat of darkness and the triumphant return of light. “The Winter Solstice.”

“What are you going to do this year? I mean… since….”

Since he wasn’t with Howard anymore.

“I don’t know,” Wyatt said. “I guess I’ll skip it. Just celebrate Christmas with the guys. It’s not like Asher celebrates Chanukah, right?”

“But it seems wrong,” Peni replied. Then something happened in his dark eyes. A determination. “Come here.” He took Wyatt’s hand in his own, ignoring the drinks, and led him back to the living room. “Hey, guys. I want to ask you something important.”

They all stopped talking and turned, curiosity clear on their faces.

“What is it, baby?” Asher said.

Peni looked at Wyatt. “When is Yule?”

“I….” What? “It’s in a couple weeks. On a Sunday.”

Peni turned back to the group. “Yule is in two weeks. Big deal from what I understand for our friend here. And Wyatt doesn’t have anyone to celebrate with. I think I’m going to. No. I know I’m going to. Does anyone want to join me? Join us?”

Wyatt almost gasped. What? What was Peni saying?

“Yeah,” said Cedar immediately. “I’m game.” He looked at his lover. “Scott?”

Scott smiled. “Sure. Why not? You mean like a circle, right? Like we did at Camp? I’d love to.”

Wyatt’s mouth almost fell open.

“You know you can count on me,” Asher added, further astonishing Wyatt. Asher and Scott? In circle? Sloan he might have imagined but….

“I think that sounds fantastic,” Sloan said.

Max, ever-practical Max, nodded. “I’m willing. It’ll be educational. To see another spiritual approach to this time of year.”

“Seriously?” Wyatt asked.

He looked around the room, and they were all nodding. Including friends that had—at least at one time—called what he did “witchy-woo-woo.” Of course, one of those people had been Scott, and now he might as well be witchy-woo-woo himself. These friends. They had all changed so much. It wasn’t just their love lives. It had been a year of transformation for all of them. And now? Now they were willing to celebrate a pagan ritual with him.

The tears came back to his eyes. “You guys…. You won’t think it’s too weird?”

“Not me!” proclaimed Scott. “Not after some of the things I saw this past summer.”

“And I dig it big-time,” added Cedar.

“I’m excited,” said Peni. “I mean really excited.”

“Oh gosh,” Wyatt whispered, a tear threatening to roll down his cheek.

“Does it have to be Sunday?” Asher asked. “If we did it Saturday, I could fly in that morning and then go back to Los Angeles on Sunday.”

“No!” Wyatt smiled. “Saturday is fine. We mostly do that anyway. Celebrate on the Saturday closest to.”

“That works great,” said Peni.

Everyone agreed. Wyatt couldn’t believe it. The tears were building.

No! No tears. He had to fight them. This was wonderful. A time of joy!

And then! Inspiration struck! The night would be complete!

“Hey,” Wyatt cried. “I got a joke.”

Would wonders never cease, no one moaned!

“What do you call a bear with no teeth?”

Everyone shook their heads. Apparently no one had any idea, although he was sure someone would have guessed.

“A gummy bear!” he exclaimed.

There were groans. And a few giggles.

It wasn’t a very good joke. But considering the circumstances, it wasn’t bad at all.