Page 38 of Talk to Me

“It’s okay to say they’re all cunts, dear,” Arthur said. “Why sugarcoat it when they certainly don’t sugarcoat what they say about you? I have a Peepers account. I see the news.”

“The…news?” I scoffed.

Arthur shot me a look and a nervous chuckle escaped Theo’s lips.

“Yes,” Arthur said. “The queer news. They tear him to shreds online. I can only imagine what it’s like in real life.”

I tilted my head back and closed my eyes. Arthur bringing up the problems Theo was facing was not why I had allowed my new friend to come along. Knowing Arthur, I’d expected some initial cattiness. Making Theo uncomfortable by bringing up the worst situation he’d probably ever faced in his life was not what I had wanted.

“Arthur,” I began, “do you really think Theo wants to—”

“As a black gay man,” Arthur interrupted me, “of a certain age, don’t you feel I might know something about being screamed at in public?”

“Well, yes,” I said. “But we came here to have a nice, friendly little visit.”

“Real friends don’t have nice, friendly conversations.” Arthur chided me. “You know that. And you brought this boy here for a reason, so I’m not going to make polite inoffensive conversation. He’s your friend, I’ll treat him like a friend.”

I rolled my eyes. Arthur snapped his attention back to Theo.

“Boy,” he said, “those hos treating you poorly, or what?”

I couldn’t help but belly laugh at Arthur’s question. Theo chuckled nervously again and nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice more certain. “They do. They’re all dicks.”

Arthur made a humming sound, and when I looked over at Theo, he was smiling ruefully. When my eyes caught his, he jerked.

“Except Josh,” he said. “Of course. And a few others. My roommate’s a stoner, but he’s not awful. But yeah, most of them are dicks.”

“Of course,” Arthur nodded.

When Theo and Arthur locked eyes, it seemed as if some understanding passed between them. As someone who had never really been bullied, I assumed it was something that only the two of them would pick up on. A secret they could share with a simple look, and one I hoped to never know. The room was quiet for several moments, and I was about to speak to break the silence, but Arthur beat me to the punch.

“Do you want to hear about the time a man threw a bottle at me on the street when I was living in New York and I threw a toaster through his window?” Arthur asked.

Theo and I both laughed, which made Arthur sit up straighter.

“I mean, I want to—” I began.

“You’re A.M. Thompson,” Theo said.

It wasn’t a question.

“You wrote all of those crime thrillers,” Theo added.

Arthur, taken aback, examined Theo for a moment before speaking.

“Yes.”

Theo nodded. “I saw you in a documentary about queer African American authors at Blaze. Uh, Blaze University. But they only showed a picture of you, that, uh, I guess was from a while ago. You were with a drag queen at a party or something?”

“That’s my friend Bang Bang.” Arthur waved a hand dismissively. “Leave it to that pasty bitch to show up in a documentary about African American authors. Taking up space and playing the diva.”

Theo and I laughed.

“How much time did they talk about me?” Arthur leaned in.

Blanching, Theo said, “A few minutes, maybe?”