Stage Fright by Pender Mackie Read Free Book Online Page B

he’d taken his garbage out and seen a dead crow near his building’s dumpster. The crow had been crawling with maggots. His stomach lurched, and his throat closed up.
“So stop flirting with your fuck buddy, and show a little more enthusiasm for your female admirers. Yeah?”
    Jesse took a couple of jerky steps over to the bench between the rows of lockers and sat down, fighting nausea. “Sure.”
Chaz stood there, gauging his reaction. He must have been satisfied, because he said, “Good man. See you tonight, Jesse.”
The dressing room door swung shut behind him.
Jesse lowered his head and took slow, careful breaths. He hadn’t felt this level of stomach-twisting anxiety since high school after he’d accidentally outed himself to a friend who couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
In hindsight voicing his admiration for his favorite movie star—and fantasy fodder—had not been a smart move. Something in his tone, his expression, must have given him away.
As they’d walked home from the movie theater, he’d babbled enthusiastically even as the other boy had stopped responding and started frowning.
“You like him.”
“Yeah, he’s a great actor and a good person too. I heard he even donates to Amnesty International and the Sierra Club. Not just money, but his time.”
“No, you like him , like him.”
    He’d never been good at reading other people, but finally his sense of selfpreservation had kicked in. “No, I don’t. Not like that.”
It was too late.
    “You’re a fag.” The other boy’s face had screwed up in disgust. “I was friends with a fag.”
Jesse had denied it vehemently, but the damage was done. In his tiny town, to admit he was gay was social death, so he’d done the only thing he could think of to salvage his reputation. He’d launched himself at his former friend and gotten a couple of good punches in before he got his ass kicked.
He’d limped home, nose bloody, mouth and knuckles swollen, and spent the rest of the weekend hiding in his room pretending he had a stomach bug. Since his “illness” left his parents shorthanded, they’d been too busy running their diner to figure out he’d been fighting, or why.
    When the weekend was over and he’d had to go back to school, he really did feel ill, but he went. That day and the rest of the school year were a nightmare. No one else beat him up, but his books were “accidentally” knocked out of his hands. Jocks openly sneered at and taunted him. One or two seemed to take malicious pleasure in making his life miserable, especially Ben, who was like a younger, meaner Chaz.
    Every time he’d spoken up in class, someone had muttered, “Fag.” Girls had giggled and whispered. Boys shrank away from him. Even the nerdy kids wanted nothing to do with him.
    Jesse didn’t blame them. They were like him, just trying to make it through high school. They didn’t need to borrow more trouble and be labeled fags by association. He was an untouchable, a social pariah. His last year of high school had been the loneliest year of his life.
    The sounds of the blow-dryer stopped. Jesse scrubbed his face. He was an adult now, not some scared, skinny teenager. No one was going to stuff him in a locker or tape a KICK ME sign to his back. If Chaz decided to out him, he’d survive.
    Anyway, he didn’t think Chaz was actually homophobic. Chaz knew Mike was gay, and since Mike had helped Jesse get the job and they were friends, Chaz had probably suspected Jesse was gay from the day he’d started. Chaz had never said or done anything to indicate he had a problem with gays. Maybe Jesse was overreacting, but in his mind’s eye he could still see Chaz’s smile. The same lazy smile he used on the women.
    Jesse stood. His stomach felt better, but all that adrenaline from his fight-or-flight response was still coursing around in his blood and making him shaky. He glanced down at his hands. He’d gripped the cheap towel so hard he’d ripped it. He turned to face