AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I take a moment to string my thoughts together before launching into my dilemma. I don’t feel great lying to my son—we’ve always been totally honest with each other, even about uncomfortable matters—but I think in this particular instance it’s necessary. Maybe one day, when I’ve figured everything out, I’ll tell him the truth. For now I’m just happy to be able to talk in this way. “My friend is straight, but he has sex with men sometimes.”
I wait for Jazz to object to this claim of heterosexuality, but he just nods. At my blank look, he says, “What?”
I shake my head. “Nothing, I just thought you’d say he’s kidding himself for thinking he’s straight when he has sex with men.”
Jazz shrugs. “There are a lot of straight men who have sex with other men.”
I blink at him. “There are?”
“Sure. I’ve probably fucked more straight men than gay men.” He’s thoughtful for a moment and then shakes his head. “Okay, that’s probably not true. But there have definitely been a fuck load of tourists.”
I wince, rubbing a hand over my face. It’s hardly news to me that my son is incredibly…active. But I don’t need it shoved right in front of me. Jazz, meanwhile, just gets back to his burger, casually chewing away as though we’re talking about baseball or something.
“Tourists?” I ask warily.
He swallows his bite before answering. “Straight guys who just want to experiment. Generally just for a night or a weekend or whatever. Usually they want to try it with a guy because they want to be overpowered by someone stronger than them, so that’s fun.”
I shake my head in exasperation. This is far more than I needed to know. “I don’t think he’s a tourist,” I say, getting us back on track. “He’s been doing this for years.”
Jazz eyes me skeptically. “Are you sure he’s not just closeted? He might be bi—nothing wrong with that.”
“I don’t think so…he’s not actually attracted to men, he just likes…um…anal sex sometimes in very particular circumstances.” I can feel my face heating but I know Jazz won’t read anything into it.
“Like when he’s drunk?” he drawls, rolling his eyes as he brings his soda to his lips for a sip.
“No—apparently it’s good stress relief,” I say with a shrug.
Jazz nods. “Ah, yeah. I can see that working. Sounds like your buddy’s a bit heteroflexible.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
He shrugs. “Straight guys who do gay things under very particular circumstances. Like Jace—he loves sucking cocks when he’s high.”
“I really didn’t need to know that,” I grumble, rubbing my fingers into my forehead. Jace is one of Jazz’s best friends and I’ve known the kid and his family since the boys were about five.
“Which part? The sucking cocks or the getting high?”
“Take your pick,” I say dryly.
“Was that all you were trying to figure out?” Jazz asks. “How your friend should identify? Because you know it’s really his choice—if he says he’s straight don’t be a dick about it.”
I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head. There’s never any sugar-coating with Jazz. “Thanks, but no, that wasn’t even the crux of the issue.”
I pick at my chicken salad as I attempt to explain the situation with Deacon, being as vague as possible while still getting the main point across. I’m not sure what insight I can possibly hope to get from Jazz when he only has half the information, though. Maybe it just helps to get it all out there, even if it is in the guise oh me speaking on behalf of a friend.
“So he kissed a boy and he liked it, but then he freaked out afterward?” Jazz summarizes.
“That’s the gist of it, yeah,” I say awkwardly.
“And what? You told him you’d check with your gay son to see if this makes him gay now?” he asks with a snort.
I roll my eyes. “Of course not. I definitely won’t be telling him I spoke to you about it. But it might help to have some insight if he wants to talk about it again. I was a bit caught off guard the first time.”
Jazz nods in understanding and it makes my gut clench. I’d much rather see more of his glib side, or even his abrasiveness, because those are his factory settings. The gentle, caring Jazz rarely peeks through the surface for anyone but Izzy, and I feel as though I’m squandering this rare sighting by lying to him.
“Alright, well I don’t really know what sort of insight I’ll be able to give—I’ve never freaked out after kissing a boy before.” He thinks for a moment and then says, “There have been a couple guys who got all weird after kissing me, though. And, trust me, there is nothing wrong with the way I kiss. If you ask me, they only got weird because they were so into it. It sounds like that might be your buddy’s problem as well,” he adds thoughtfully.
Well, that’s something I could have figured out on my own.
