Collusion

Chapter 1 Jay was drunk. Thankfully, he managed to avoid embarrassing himself or anyone else, but everyone noticed (and tried to ignore) the slurred speech, the laughter that went on a beat too long, the excessive and uncharacteristic friendliness. His inebriation was just another sour note in an evening that had started poorly and went steadily downhill from there. My friend Olivia and I had made plans to have dinner at a high-priced Mexican restaurant we’d both heard about, but hadn’t been to yet. It was just supposed to be a quiet evening with the two of us catching up. After moving into Jay’s condo six months ago, I’d seen less and less of Olivia. She didn’t care for my boyfriend and preferred to steer clear of him whenever possible. Jay wasn’t particularly fond of her either, although he claimed she was the catalyst for the negativity between them. “I wouldn’t have a problem with Olivia if she didn’t have a problem with me,” was his defense. He even suggested having a three-way with her, telling me that whatever problems he and Olivia had would all be solved if the three of us just climbed into bed together, turned out the lights, and “let nature take its course.” Right. As if that would ever happen. When Olivia showed up at the condo Saturday night, Jay invited himself to dinner and the drama began. Even though she was clearly not happy to have him tag along as a third wheel, Olivia kept her mouth shut and we headed to the restaurant. Dinner went about as well as expected. It wasn’t terrible, due mainly to the food and pitchers of margaritas that kept coming at Jay’s request, but it wasn’t that great either. Olivia shut down and clammed up, leaving me and Jay to do most of the talking. At one point, I got up to go to the bathroom and when I returned to the table I heard Jay sarcastically telling her, “You really don’t get it, do you?” “No,” she said. “I guess I don’t.” Jesus, I couldn’t go take a leak without them sniping at each other. I thought about giving my “Can We All Just Get Along” speech yet again but, decided against it since, obviously, my pleas weren’t doing much to help their strained relations. “What’s going on?” I asked. They both looked at me with blank expressions before Jay shrugged and mumbled, “Nothing.” While we were mulling over the dessert menu, Jay noticed some people he knew at another table and left to speak with them. “You’re awfully quiet tonight,” I told Olivia. “You’re upset that Jay’s here, aren’t you?” “No.” “Liar. Your whole demeanor changes when he’s around.” “No, it doesn’t.” “Yes, it does. Don’t you think I can tell?” “He just irritates me.” “Give him a break, Olivia. He’s trying. He really wants you two to be friends.” She rolled her eyes. “He does. He’s quite fond of you actually.” “The only person Jay Tanner is fond of is Jay Tanner.” “That’s not true.” “Brian, I know you love Jay and you mean well, but you need to stop trying to force a friendship between us because it’s never going to happen.” Jay and I had recently reunited after an exhausting on-again/off-again relationship that spanned nearly five years. When we first met, he was in the closet. Then, after about a year of sneaking around to see each other, he dumped me to marry a woman, Meghan, claiming his position as the “AccuWeather Authority” for Channel 2 (Philadelphia’s News Leader) would be in jeopardy if anyone found out he was gay. “Try to understand, baby,” he said. “It’s not personal. You know I love c**k, especially yours, but I have to try loving p***y for a while. My career depends on it.” Jay and Meghan were married for two years and had a son together, named Brian, of all things, before he finally decided to end his marriage and come out publicly as gay. (As a side note, when Meghan found out her son and I shared the same name, she went ballistic and threatened to have the boy’s name changed. But Jay talked her out of it, arguing, “Brian is the only name he knows! Do you really think he’s going to respond if we suddenly start calling him Chuck?”) Soon after his divorce was finalized, he agreed to an interview with Philadelphia magazine and let the cat out of the bag (or out of the closet, I should say). And a few months after that startling revelation, we moved in together. Olivia, whose own (now ex-) husband had cheated on her and impregnated another woman in the process, was not happy about my relationship with Jay. She constantly berated me for seeing him and bitched about the awful way he’d treated and lied to his wife. “He’s a dog, Brian,” she’d say. “You deserve better.” Maybe so, but I loved that dog and that dog loved me. End of story. I was about to say something to try in vain to convince Olivia that Jay wasn’t the creep she made him out to be when he returned to the table with a man and woman in tow. Apparently, he’d invited his two friends to join us for another round of margaritas and they’d decided to take him up on the offer. The couple, a young, attractive dark-haired pair who looked like they walked right out of a Banana Republic ad, were stuck up and phony, but engaging enough to keep Jay and Olivia out of each other’s hair. Their presence also provided Olivia with the opportunity give a bullshit excuse about not feeling well and bow out early. Before she left, she tried to give Jay money for her part of the check, but he waved it away telling her dinner was on him and adding, “Let’s just say you owe me.” He and his friends laughed and Olivia looked like she wanted to smack him right across the face. “Thanks for coming,” I said as I walked her out and hailed a cab for her. “Next time it’ll just be the two of us. I promise.” “Right. Goodnight, Brian Daly.” “Goodnight, Olivia Carter.” I kissed her cheek and she got into the cab. I honestly wished I was going with her. I didn’t feel like spending the rest of the evening chatting with Mr. and Mrs. Banana Republic, but I did. Thankfully, Jay’s obvious intoxication cut the party short and his friends decided to call it a night. During the cab ride home, he smiled at me and grabbed my thigh. “I can’t wait until we get home,” he whispered, pressing his lips to my ear. “Neither can I,” I told him, although I suspected he and I were anxious to get home for different reasons. As drunk as he was, I doubted he’d be able to get it up for s*x and I wasn’t in the mood for it anyway. I really just wanted to go to sleep. Jay stumbled into the condo and I helped him to the bedroom where he collapsed onto the bed in a heap. I helped him out his clothes and shoes before changing into a tee shirt and pajama pants and crawling into bed beside him. He pounced on me the moment I turned the lights out, pressing his body against mine, asking for s*x. “You’re drunk,” I told him. “Go to sleep.” “Please, baby,” he said. “I’m so hard.” Surprisingly, he was hard. The margaritas clearly hadn’t affected his libido. Figuring neither of us would get any sleep until he was satisfied, we had s*x. As much as I normally loved having Jay on top and inside of me, I didn’t enjoy our lovemaking that night. I felt jittery and annoyed and anxious for it to be over so I could finally relax. Jay, on the other hand, appeared to be in the throes of ecstasy, thrusting into me while grunting and calling out his usual string of pleasured expressions: Oh, baby. Oh, God. I love you. But in between his usual breathy, pre-ejaculation spiel, he said something I certainly hadn’t expected to hear. With his fingers entwined in mine and his face pressed against my neck, he called out a name that was familiar to us both. “Olivia,” he said with a groan right before his body shuddered and released and he collapsed on top of me. I couldn’t get out from under him fast enough. I sequestered myself in the bathroom and looked at my reflection in the mirror above the sink. My brown hair was mussed, my blue eyes were red and tired, and my face and ears were flushed…and not from the s*x. Why the hell was Jay calling out Olivia’s name? Was he wishing she was the one lying beneath him? Did he want her legs spread before him? In all the time I’d been with Jay, he’d never called out someone else’s name (other than mine and, occasionally, his own) during s*x. Hearing him call for Olivia was strange and troubling. Jay was asleep when I returned to the bedroom, sprawled across the bed like he didn’t expect to share it with anyone. I threw the comforter over him before heading to the guest room to spend the rest of the night there.