Bankers' Hours Read Free Page A

that question come from?”
    I stretched out on the sofa and pulled the afghan off the back of it to cover my legs. It was the middle of September and I wasn’t very warm natured to begin with, so any slight drop in temperature had me covering up. I sighed into the receiver. “I don’t know. A girl at work said she knew I was gay from the first day. I’ve only been there five days.”
    “So? You’ve never denied it, have you?”
    “No.”
    “You were as up-front with me as I was with you. Remember our first lunch?” he asked, his voice conveying his happiness so well I could almost picture the smile on his face.
    “Yeah, I remember. But it was the way she said it and based her assumption on my clothes and mannerisms.”
    “Ah! Stereotyping. You’ve always hated that, haven’t you?” Mel asked, but I knew it was rhetorical.
    “Mostly since meeting you. I guess I don’t want to admit my appearance isn’t more neutral. But you didn’t answer my question: am I flamboyantly gay?”
    “Of course not. But it’s more than your Easter egg colored wardrobe, Grant. When a guy… for example, you… ogles another guy’s ass as often as I’ve seen you do, then that guy’s gay, and it doesn’t matter what color his shirts are or how much his hips sway when he walks.”
    “My hips do not sway!” I protested.
    Mel snickered. “Okay, they don’t sway… much , but the way you openly check guys out is obvious.”
    “I haven’t done that at the bank, I don’t think.”
    “Just be careful, Grant. Carroll County is a way more conservative part of Maryland than Howard County. You don’t want to piss off some old-school farmer, or a Harley-Davidson–loving auto mechanic.” I choked and pulled the phone away from my mouth to clear my throat. When I brought the phone back up to my ear, I heard Mel laughing. “Oh, wow. Did you ogle a farmer? You slut!”
    “Oh my God, Mel. Don’t make this harder than it already is,” I whined.
    His tone changed right away. “I’m sorry. I know relationships are hard for you. I didn’t mean to poke fun.”
    “I’d almost prefer being a slut to being alone. I hate it. Every night I come home to an empty house. Maybe I should move back in with my mother.”
    “Grant,” he warned.
    “She’s all alone. She’s got that stupid cat I’m allergic to, but I could take shots.”
    “Grant, don’t.”
    “But, Mel!”
    “No buts. Moving out last year was the best thing you’ve done for yourself. And if you do meet a hot farmer, then at least you don’t have to explain why you’re still living with your mother.”
    “I could tell him she’s sick,” I countered.
    “But she’s not. Your mother is perfectly healthy and active. There is no reason that doesn’t make you sound pitiful. You’re a big boy. You can take care of yourself.”
    “You’re right. So do you think I’m attractive?” I asked, even though we’d covered the answer before.
    “Yes, you know you are. But I’ve told you before, I’m attracted to girls, so your looks don’t matter to me either way.”
    “I know. But do you think my looks would be enough for an auto mechanic?”
    “You know I was only joking about the auto mechanic, right? There are other professions in Carroll County.”
    “Oh, I know. I’m asking because there was a guy who came in today who’s an auto mechanic.”
    “And?”
    “And he’s hot,” I whined.
    “Oooh, do tell.” I appreciated his interest. Mel had egged me on for details about all three guys I’d been interested in since we’d met. And he’d been there to support me after all three had bombed after one date. He was used to my crushes and hadn’t discouraged me from dreaming.
    I drew my knees up and tucked my afghan under my feet, positioning myself for the juicy details I was about to spill. “Okay, he’s built like a tank. Taller than me, and he has more muscle than the bodybuilder guy we used to make up stories about last year.”
    “Mr.