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Jesse was my roommate for the second year in a row, and another of my best friends. I kept him away from Brad as much as I could. Jesse was both gay and black, therefore Brad felt compelled to act like a giant asshole every time he was around Jesse. If I was being honest, in a fair fight, Jesse would one hundred percent kick Brad’s ass. Brad never kept anything fair, though.
Caitlin had ended up in our mismatched group courtesy of Jesse. They were a package deal; she was his ride or die before Jeff and I even met him, but once I met her, I couldn’t imagine life without her. She had the kind of personality that made you love her instantly, and she’d become our BFF as well, pretty quickly. She would fight to the death for any one of us, and even though she was small, she was feisty. I’d bet she could kick Brad’s ass, too.
Caitlin didn’t fit into any sort of box, reading her horoscope daily and learning about the powers of gemstones while going to mass at the Catholic church nearly every other week. She ate meals that were all natural and rarely ate meat but stashed loads of candy and sweets everywhere in her room. She did yoga and meditated, but then got absolutely hammered at parties every weekend, making out with whatever random person crossed her path. She didn’t mind being a walking contradiction, but you’d better not call her out on it.
Caitlin dated whoever she felt like dating. She didn’t care if they were a guy, a girl, trans or non-binary. It was who they were as a person that mattered to her, nothing else. She was way too close to Jeff and me to ever date us, though. She was majoring in journalism, in her first year of it even though she’d been in college for three. She’d changed her major every year. She started as an art major but didn’t think she could make a living at it, so she switched to business. That bored her to tears, so she decided to try journalism. She was definitely her own person, a free spirit you could say, and I loved the heck out of her.
I glanced over just as the guy Brad had pointed at walked away without looking back at us. Jamie, I thought his name was, Jamie Bryant? It sounded kind of plain and average, and it just didn’t fit him. He wasn’t plain, and he wasn’t average. He was a little shorter than me, and slender, but on days when he wore things like he had on in the quad, you could see that he was all lean muscle. It was a little startling because when he wore a baggy t-shirt or a fuzzy sweater, he looked almost delicate. When he wore something that showed a little more skin, though, you could see that his arms, though not big and bulging like a bodybuilder, were nothing but solid muscle. He didn’t even have to flex for it to be noticeable. He had a six-pack, too. It had been peeking out of his shirt where that strip of skin was showing as he moved. His hair was jet-black, and full of unruly curls, his skin a few shades darker than mine even when I was tan. I’d seen him in a skirt a couple of times. His legs were the same- solid muscle and smooth. I was pretty sure he had no body hair. He could walk in heels that would have had me on the floor after taking one step, even though he didn’t wear them often. He just didn’t seem like a Jamie Bryant. He seemed much too unique for such a simple name.
I’d noticed all of these things only because he was in my class, and he sat fairly close to me. There were only so many places you could look in calculus, because let’s face it, it’s a boring subject. And it wasn’t like he didn’t draw attention. People stared at him constantly. I wasn’t gawking like them, but it wasn’t like I was looking looking at him. He was just…intriguing.
Then he was gone, and I looked back at Jeff, who held me back while everyone else headed into the rink. “So listen,” he said, “I know we were trying to figure out what to do for Jesse’s birthday, and I was thinking we could really surprise him this year. It falls on Friday, and we don’t have a game. I know we could do the whole party or nightclub like we always do, but I have a better idea. I think we should keep it just a close friend’s event because I found the perfect place. It's this club on the edge of town. It’s a…strip club.”
In my stupidity, I started to ask why Jesse would even want to go to a strip club. I’m not sure why my brain didn’t catch up, but it didn’t until Jeff went on, “It’s called Club Adonis.” Oh. That kind of strip club. But…Jeff wasn’t gay. And, I mean, neither was I.
“Look, Caden, I know it will be awkward and probably a little weird for us, but Jesse is our best friend. Think of everything he’s done for us. He puts up with our other friends and our teammates, even the douchey ones. He saved Caitlin from that creepy ass guy she went out with. He was ready to jump in and kick that guy’s ass for you when you got into a fight at that party. He even went to a strip club on my birthday and watched half-naked girls prance around and bought me a lap dance. It’s one night, man. I didn’t even know we had a gay strip club here until I looked. He would freak out. We have to do this for him.”
Yeah, he’d definitely freak out. I wasn’t so sure, though, that I could bring myself to go. It seemed like a really bad idea. Jeff had a point, though. Jesse had been there for all of us any time we needed him. He deserved a fun birthday, and our parties weren’t really his scene, even though he tolerated them. With no game until Saturday, and no practice on Friday, I was lacking a real argument against it. I tried to come up with one, but I had nothing. Nothing I wanted to dwell on, anyway. “Ok, man, I’ll do it for Jesse.” And I would. Because Jesse was my friend and he’s the only reason I would ever set foot inside a gay strip club.
Jeff grinned. “Attaboy,” he said, punching my shoulder with a laugh. I gave a half-hearted laugh in return, and we headed into the arena to catch up with our teammates.
???
The next day, as we all walked through the quad, Brad took it further than pointing and laughing. He’d stalled us a bit, and I think he timed it that way on purpose so that we would end up right in front of Jamie. Brad felt safe because his two cronies were with him, along with Jeff and me, who he probably thought would back him up because we were all teammates. “What do you think you’re doing?” Brad demanded, blocking Jamie’s path.
Jeff’s hackles were already up. “What the hell is Brad doing now?”
My own hackles had risen, too, but I wasn’t sure what to do. I thought maybe I should speak up, but I wasn’t sure what Brad was planning.
Jamie slowed to a stop, eyeing each of us. He was wary, but not fearful. His eyes narrowed in annoyance, and his full lips turned down into a scowl. “I’m walking through the quad. What does it look like I’m doing?” Snappy. I was proud of him. He was wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a tight black T-shirt. Pretty conservative for him, but he was still wearing that pearl choker.
“Being fruity?” Was Brad’s stellar response. What a tool.
“Knock it off, Brad,” Jeff hissed through his teeth.
Brad completely ignored Jeff. “Jamie, isn’t it? Jamie Bryant? What kind of a name is that, anyways? I think it’s a little too white for you. It’s pretty plain, too, like maybe you just made it up trying to fit in. What are you, Mexican? Shouldn’t you have some kind of Spanish name, like Jose or something?”
Jamie remained composed on the surface, but I could see the fire in his eyes. I couldn’t even tell which part of Brad’s horrifically racist, spewed jumble of bullshit had caused the rage to bubble to the surface of those dark eyes, but I thought it was something to do with the comments about his name itself. Jamie tended to let things roll off his back, but that was going to set him off, I could tell.
Despite the anger burning in his eyes, Jamie calmly looked Brad in the eye. “Brad, isn’t it? Brad Corbin? What does that name mean in your superior American tongue? Tiny Dick? I think it suits you just fine.”
I would have laughed out loud if Brad hadn’t lunged for him. For a moment, I was frozen to my spot in shock. Brad’s face was red with fury, and he spit out, “You little piece of-” as he grabbed for Jamie. Jamie did not cower. Jeff, obviously in less shock than me, lunged for Brad to stop him. Just as Jeff grabbed his arm and yanked him backward, Brad managed to get hold of the choker on Jamie’s neck. “These are for girls,” he roared as the choker broke in his hand and the little pearls flung all over the place.
Jamie dropped the books he’d been carrying as he moved to defend himself while Brad still grappled for him and simultaneously struggled with Jeff. Jamie got a decent shove and a “fuck you!” in before Jeff managed to get Brad a safe distance away.
Jeff shoved Brad, too. “What the fuck are you doing, you piece of shit? Get in the rink. Now. If you try one more thing, I’ll take you the fuck out myself, and your friends too, if I need to. I’d better never see you treat anyone like that again.” Jeff glanced over at Brad’s besties, who were standing there in shock. “Go!” he yelled, motioning in the direction we’d been heading in before Brad’s fiasco. They all glanced over at me, and I pulled myself up to my full height as I finally came out of my trance. I pointed in the direction Jeff was already dragging Brad as he yelled, “Coach is going to hear about this! You know he doesn’t tolerate this shit!”
The other two took off after Brad and Jeff sullenly. They knew Jeff and I could take them all out by ourselves. It was quite obvious that Jamie would also throw down if he needed to. He was no damsel in distress. He’d been fully poised to fight before Jeff dragged Brad away from him.
I made sure they were gone and weren’t going to turn around before I turned to Jamie. “Hey,” I said, “I’m really sorry about that.”
Jamie had been looking at the pearls scattered all over the ground, and I could tell it was bothering him more than he was letting on. My words brought him back to reality fast. He looked up at me and there was no amount of trust in his eyes. Not even a little. I may as well have been Brad at that moment. “Yeah, whatever,” he said, “I’m not worried about it. I’m used to it.” He bent down to pick up his books, and I started trying to collect the pearls, scooping up as many of them as I could find.
We both straightened at the same time, and I offered them to him. “Maybe it can be restrung?” I suggested.
He let me place them in his outstretched palm. His hand was lithe and seemed delicate, but I noticed callouses on the pad of his palm. I wondered what they were from. I glanced back at his face after I gave him the pearls, and I swear if looks could kill, I would have been dead and buried. “It doesn’t matter,” he practically hissed, “It’s just a twelve-dollar choker from Angie’s at the mall.” He dumped the pearls I’d collected into a nearby trash bin, which broke my heart a little bit because I knew they’d meant something to him.
“I’m really sorry,” I said again, but it came out squeakier than I meant it to, and I felt my cheeks warm.
