“I know you were the only person in that crowd rocking this whole Fabio-Fonzie vibe.”
Lucky burst out laughing, and then he said, “Wow. If I’m ever at risk of developing an overinflated ego, I’ll come and find you so you can knock me back down to size.”
“I didn’t mean it as an insult. You just have the hair of a cover model on a romance novel, and you seem to spend every day of your life in a white T-shirt, jeans, a black leather jacket, and motorcycle boots, so…” I shrugged and finished my tea before placing the empty cup on the table.
“How do you know I wear this every day?”
“I told you, I’ve seen you around.”
“Do you live in the neighborhood?”
“No, but you visit mine regularly. Apparently you’re a big fan of hash browns, just not on the weekend.”
As understanding dawned, he exclaimed, “Oh, the diner! But I’ve never seen you in there.”
“You’re right, I’m usually at the bakery across the street when you ride up on your motorcycle. You’re extremely consistent.”
He leaned back and said, “Okay, now I get it. A look of recognition crossed your face right before you fell on me, but I was sure I’d never seen you before.”
“You hadn’t, but no one ever remembers me anyway.”
“I would have.”
I asked, “Why are you so sure?”
“Because you’re beautiful, Logan, and in case hanging out at that club in the Castro didn’t make it obvious, I’m gay. A man like you would never escape my attention, even if he wasn’t up on a platform, doing the worst robot I’d ever seen in my life.”
I didn’t know what to do with those compliments, so I focused on the last part of that and joked, “Dude, you need glasses. My robot was dead-on!”
“I’m wearing contacts, thank you very much, and you really shouldn’t quit your day job for a career as a robot.”
That made me laugh. Then I said, “You never answered my question about what you were doing at that club.”
“No, because you’re very distracting. But that question doesn’t really need an answer.”
“Why not?”
“Because ninety-nine percent of Thrust’s customers are there for the same reason. Look for a clue in the name.”
That surprised me. “You were hoping to get laid?”
He actually seemed a little embarrassed—probably by my dumb question more than anything—and broke eye contact. “Yes, but I don’t want you to think I lured you here with the plan of throwing myself at you. You’ve obviously had too much to drink tonight, and I’d never take advantage of someone in that condition.”
“To be clear, I had two drinks in about twenty minutes, and they didn’t sit well. They’re also no longer in my system, as we both know. It wasn’t like I was doing shots for like, five straight hours or anything.”
Now he looked confused. “So, you’re not drunk and want me to hit on you?”
“Yes. I mean…no. I didn’t come here to have sex with you. But I wouldn’t mind making out or something.” Oh god, did I really say that? And was he actually going for it? He started to lean in, and I jerked back and exclaimed, “Not now! I probably have barf breath.”
He sat back again and told me, “You’re a very confusing man, Logan Genardi.”
“Sorry. I’m not very good at…whatever this is.” I got up and asked, “Can I use your bathroom?”
“Sure, it’s right through there.” He pointed at a doorway in the far corner of the garage. “Also, I’m in no way confirming you have breath issues, but there’s a new toothbrush in the cabinet to the left of the sink. Feel free to help yourself to it, if that’ll make you feel less self-conscious.”
I heard that as, “You’re right, you have barf breath. I’m trying not to hurt your feelings, but you should absolutely brush your teeth.”
Once I was in the bathroom with the door shut behind me, I closed the toilet lid, sat down on it, and looked around. The room was plain white, except for a huge, rusty sign from the 50s or 60s advertising Chevrolets, which filled most of the wall in front of me. This was literally the least child-friendly home I’d ever seen. All that rusty metal everywhere was making me wonder if my tetanus shots were up to date.