Hunter
Ray Thomas Scott
Father – Husband – Brother
Died, age 62
According to his headstone, he was just a father—no signifiers to elaborate on what kind. I sure as fuck hope mine at least calls me a loving one.
Maggie suggested I come here, for closure, I think. She suggested I write him a letter or say a few words to express what it is that I would say to him if he were alive. But, to be honest, I have a hard enough time opening up to living people, so the idea of speaking to a piece of stone placed over a rotting corpse and some dirt is a little bit much for me.
So, just sitting here will do. Sitting here and thinking.
Thinking about how I was crazy to assume two months would be enough to undo all the damage this man has done. It was a start, though. Enough of a break to make me realize that I can’t live like this anymore.
But this time alone did help. It gave me time to reflect, to feel what my life is like without them, and to force myself out of the mental funk I was in. And more than anything, it makes me realize one very important thing.
I can’t live without them, and I don’t intend to.
But I’m not going back to them empty-handed. I want to show them progress, because that’s what they deserve. Which means, I need to suck it up and get over my fear of expressing myself, and stop letting this man—this dead man—control my life anymore.
So, I’m here to say goodbye. But I feel the itch to say something else.
“I’m bisexual,” I blurt out loud, surprising even myself.
Oh fuck, that felt good.
“What do you think about that, asshole? I’m bisexual and I’m in love with a man.” A laugh rolls off my lips as I stare at the word engraved in stone. Moss and decay have already begun to show themselves. Weeds sprout along the bottom because he was too much of an asshole to ensure people would care for his grave after he’s gone.
I won’t make the same mistake.
“God, I hope you’re rolling around in your grave right now. Damn, I wish I would have said that to you when you were alive. I bet you would have been so pissed. I can only imagine the things you would have called me. You might have even tried to punch me for it. But you would have been too sick and weak to overpower me, and it would have felt really good to watch you try.”
Damn…okay, I guess I can talk to a grave. I quickly turn to make sure I’m really alone, which I am, so I don’t feel like such a weirdo for doing this. I feel lighter, like something has been lifted from my chest.
“Maybe if you weren’t such an asshole and took better care of yourself, you could have met them. Maybe you would have been proud of me. I have a beautiful wife, and a fucking awesome…boyfriend? I don’t know what I’m calling him right now, but either way, I’m lucky enough to have two amazing people, who want to be with me, and I really fucking hope I didn’t blow it because of you.”
A breeze blows through the small cemetery, rustling the leaves that have fallen around sparse headstones. And suddenly, this feeling of being lighter is replaced by a sudden anxiousness. As if losing this burden has triggered my response to go back to them, to go home.
“All right,” I mutter, looking down. Bending over, I grab the weeds that have laid roots around his grave. I yank a few out and toss them to the side. Then, I brush off the top of the gray stone. “Well, that’s all I have to say. So…fuck off, old man.”
And with that, I turn and head out of the cemetery, anxious to get to my car, to get to the club, to get back to the people I love.
There are two places where all of the owners of Salacious are in the same place at the same time—the bar and board meetings. Now that it’s like a well-oiled machine with a staff of floor managers to contact us if anything goes wrong, we can actually all meet at the bar, just like old times. And since the bar has alcohol (as most bars do) where I can try and drown out my nerves, I decide Thursday night is the place to do this.
Drake and Isabel aren’t here. I don’t know where they are or what they’re doing, which is how it’s been for the last two months, and exactly how I want it to be. I talk to my wife over the phone from time to time to check in, but we don’t talk about anything heavy, and she doesn’t pester me with uncomfortable questions. My too-good-for-words wife understands that I have to do this soul-search alone.
And this is one of the milestones I definitely need to do alone.
We’re on our second round when I clear my throat. “I have something to say.”
Everyone freezes and looks my way. Those five words don’t come out of my mouth often, and even they can tell how rare it is by how rapt their attention suddenly is.
Fuck, this is uncomfortable. And terrifying. And I’m thirty-three. How do kids do this?
“I’m sure you’ve all noticed…” I stammer. “That I haven’t been living at home, and Isabel and Drake haven’t been around much.”
Maggie bites her lip next to me. Then I feel her hand rest against my back. Seeing as how I’ve taken up residence in her guest bedroom, she obviously knows everything about my situation. She’s been my unofficial counselor this whole time, letting me unload everything on her.
I’m sure most of them assume something happened between Isabel and Drake, maybe that she cheated on me with him, but I let them believe what they wanted. I knew the moment would come when I would clear it all up.
“Well, the truth is that the three of us…”
I look up to find Charlie clinging to Emerson’s arm, a hopeful expression on her face. Mia is staring wide-eyed at me, and Garrett is biting back a grin.
Inside, I’m screaming. These are my friends. No, this is my family. We’ve been in business together for over seven years. We raised and nurtured our company together like parents, and all of that bullshit about not going into business with your friends seems wrong. Because your friends are the only ones who won’t steal from you or exploit you. This team has always had each other’s back, and right now, I can feel just how much they have mine.
“The three of us are together. In a relationship. Even Drake and I. I…uh, I’m bisexual.”
As those words bleed out of me, all of the weight and sickness I felt from holding them in bleeds out too. Across from me, Charlie is beaming. Mia is tearing up as she reaches a hand out for me, and at the end of the table, Emerson is wearing an expression of pride.
When no one says anything for a while, I let out a heavy breath. “You all knew that already, didn’t you?”
The table breaks out in mumbled responses, confirming my suspicion. They knew this whole damn time.
“Why didn’t you guys say anything?”
“It was none of our business,” Emerson states.
“To be honest, I thought you three had been banging this whole time,” Garrett replies, and Mia rolls her eyes at him.
“It just makes sense, Hunter. The chemistry between you guys is more than just friends,” she adds.
“I’m just glad you finally got here,” Maggie says, rubbing my back again.
“So…” Garrett says with his brow furrowed. “Why did you move out?”
“I just needed to figure some shit out before someone got hurt.”
He nods, his eyes focused on me with a light, hopeful expression.
“What now? Are you going home?” Charlie asks.
“I think so.”
She bites her lip in excitement.
“It’s not fair,” Mia whines, pushing her bottom lip out in a pout. “Isabel gets two. I only got one.”
As she turns her grumpy features toward the man sitting next to her, his expression hardens as he snatches a pinch of her hip.
“You little brat.”
“One? I have zero, so don’t complain,” Maggie adds as she scowls into her wine glass.
“That’s because you work too much, Mags. And you’re always with us. There are no more single guys here,” I reply.
“I don’t want any of you anyway,” she replies. “You guys are too kinky and rich and full of yourselves.”
The three of us stare at her, taking offense.
“Too kinky?” Emerson asks.
“Since when do we act rich?” Garrett adds.
And I can’t help but laugh. I mean…we are full of ourselves, so that one doesn’t even deserve an argument.
“Not even going to respond,” she says astutely. You gotta love Maggie. She works hard, and she’s surprisingly sweet and shy for a woman who’s kept the three of us in check for almost a decade. But she never takes the time for herself that she deserves. Since I’ve been living there, I’ve noticed that she does nothing but work. Until her comment to Mia about not having a man, I honestly didn’t know she even wanted one.
She’s never dated anyone, that we know of. Never used the club for anything. Never flirted or hooked up. She’s an enigma to us all, but we love her all the same.
The table is busy arguing about her accusations of the way we act, and I’m thankful for the attention being taken away from me. And it was just that easy. I dropped the biggest bomb of my life, and my friends barely flinched. Because, to them, nothing really changed. I’m still me. Drake and Isabel and I are the same three people we’ve always been.
And to think I was afraid this would be hard.
