Queer Folk and Cheap Wine
Andrew
Weeksslipbylikesand through my fingers, my routines settling into an exhausting rhythm. Long days taping Relay drain every last drop of energy from my bones. Between squeezing in yoga classes and working from sunup to sundown, I'm running on fumes. I do my best to stay energized, soaking up sunshine whenever I can and prioritizing sleep like it's the most precious currency I own. One constant remains: Vince and I run together every weekday morning. Shockingly, he hasn't abandoned his "running bud" yet.
Today stretches long and unforgiving, as usual. The crew wraps up a taping session outside, but my portion with Vincehas already finished. Most of the remaining team is in the field, chasing after additional contestant footage. Meanwhile, I'm stuck at the studio's sad excuse for a concession area, trying to figure out what might pass for dinner.
The snack selection is a landscape of disappointment.
I stare at the table laden with leftovers, wondering how this setup might differ if I were starring in a blockbuster film instead of co-hosting a reality competition show destined for obscurity. It's clear this whole production is someone's expensive passion project. Unfortunately, that passion doesn't extend to providing anything resembling decent food.
"Eat the donuts," Gary teases from behind me as he approaches, his plate already piled high. His hand hovers over a lone Caesar wrap.
"Gross," I reply, my nose wrinkling in disgust. "Those have been sitting out since this morning. They're definitely stale."
"So?" Gary smirks, grabbing a donut and balancing it precariously on his already full plate. "Oh, please, Mr. Goody Two Shoes. I guess that's how you keep a waist like that, huh?" He jabs me playfully in the side, making me flinch and laugh despite myself.
"Stop!" I swat at him, trying to dodge his finger. "I've never liked donuts. It's not about my waistline."
"Yeah, sure." He grins, rolling his eyes in mock disbelief. "I looked like you once, you know. Back in the day, before I grew old and decrepit."
I return his grin with an exaggerated eye roll of my own.
Gary is impossible not to like. Over the past few weeks, his relentless humor and unfiltered honesty have become a source of comfort for me. While we don't hang out as much as Vince and I do during our morning runs, Gary has a way of making workdays feel lighter. Sometimes, we'll even text late at nightwhen I need to vent. He has become a constant in my life, and I value him more than I'd ever admit out loud.
"You should stop talking about yourself like that," I tell him, grabbing a Caesar wrap and putting it on my empty plate. "I don't like hearing it. It's bad for your headspace."
Gary sighs dramatically. "It's true, though. About ten years ago, before Frank and I got married, I'd have given you a run for your money. So, you know—don't get married."
We both laugh as he takes a bite of the donut. A slow grimace spreads across his face.
"I told you they were stale," I say, shaking my head.
He ignores me, swallowing.
"How are things with Ted?" Gary asks, the teasing lilt in his voice unmistakable.
"They're fine," I say, shrugging. "I guess."
Gary snorts. "What do you mean, you guess?"
My eyes widen slightly, and I fumble with my food. I know what he's about to say before he even opens his mouth.
"Oh, wait." Gary's grin widens as he nods toward the far end of the studio. "Now I get it."
I don't need to follow his gaze to know exactly where he's looking. Vince is standing across the room, deep in conversation with a group of producers, his easy smile and confident demeanor commanding attention.
"Stop," I warn, trying to sound firm but failing miserably as my voice wavers.
"Uh-huh," Gary says, clearly unconvinced. "Totally unrelated to why you're second guessing Ted, right?"
I groan, grabbing my plate and moving to the other side of the table in a feeble attempt to escape his scrutiny. But Gary isn't letting this go so easily. He follows me, still grinning like he's just uncovered the juiciest secret in the world.
"Hey, hey, hey. Not so fast, Andy."
I stop abruptly, spinning to face him. "It's Andrew," I correct, though my tone lacks the conviction I'm aiming for.
Gary laughs, shaking his head. "How weird. You let Vince call you Andy. Why is that, I wonder?"
