Page 11 of Something Like Hail

“I don’t think so. I’lltake…” He turned his attention to the menu.“Everything!”

Harold laughed. “That might getexpensive.”

“About that,” Noah said,trying to remember how much cash he had in his wallet. Enough tocover this meal? Maybe. But not the rest. “Are the clothes webought going to come out of my paycheck?”

“Business expense,” Haroldsaid easily. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Wow, so we get to shop forclothes and it’s covered?”

“Normally? No, but Marcellosaid to help you get set up, and that’s what I’m doing. Our clientsare going to love you.”

“Are you sure?” Noah asked,letting his insecurity show.

They were interrupted by the server, whocame to take their orders, but Harold stuck with the topic once shehad gone. “You’re a good-looking guy,” he said. “More importantthan that, you’re real.”

“You said that earlier too.I don’t get what you mean.”

“Our clientele look for oneof two things. Some of them want what they can’t normally have. Theguy on the magazine cover, or a lookalike from the boy band theyobsess over. Toned muscles, flawless face—”

“In other words,you.”

Harold’s teeth flashed at the compliment.“The other side of the coin—and you’ll find out how popular it canbe—is clients wanting to feel like they’re really with someone.Instead of a superhero they worship, they want a down-to-earthconnection with another human being. That’s so you. You’re cute,don’t sell yourself short in that way, but the way you get nervous,or how easily you blush…”

Noah’s stupid cheeks demonstrated hispoint.

“Exactly!” Harold said,laughing happily. “I hope you never lose that because it’s sweet.That’s what I mean by being real. Guys in boy bands? Fashionmodels? They don’t feel real. You do. You’ve got this country boycharm that people are going to love. That’s what I’m trying tocultivate with your clothes and stuff.”

Noah sighed. “You can take the boy from thesmall town, but you can’t take the small town from the boy.”

Harold leaned forward. “Really? So I wasright?” He held up his hands to stave off an answer. Or like he wassetting a scene. “I want you to tell me all about yourself. Ready?Go!”

“Oh. Okay. Well, I’m from asmall town out west. Have you heard of Fort Stockton? No? I’m notsurprised. There’s nothing out there. A bunch of oil pumps, but myfamily doesn’t own any of those. We have a farm, mostly for cattleand fish. The land out there isn’t great for growing things. Odessais a little over an hour away. ‘The big city.’ That’s how I thoughtof it whenever we went there.”

“Loving it so far!” Haroldsaid.

That was a weird response, but Noah pressedon. “My parents are Southern Baptists. When I was fourteen theycaught me spooning with a guy friend. We weren’t doing anything. Iwas so naïve back then that I didn’t even know how sex worked. Wewere playing house. Way too old for that sort of thing, I know, butwe were only goofing around. My friend thought it was funny. Me? Ifelt all sorts of things. My parents sat me down, and after askinga bunch of questions— Most gay people come out. I feel like I wasdiagnosed. It doesn’t help that our family doctor was also ourminister. We tried praying the gay away, but he also used medicine.I was put on testosterone briefly, which made me crazy. They triedantibiotics, antidepressants, all sorts of things. I still don’tknow what most of it was. The sad thing is, I was right there withthem, wanting to find a cure.”

“Jesus,” Haroldbreathed.

“Yeah, him too. I triedtalking to Jesus about it, not that he ever responded. This attemptto fix me went on for a couple of years. None of it was working, soI quit. I refused any treatments. I had been reading things on theinternet—which we didn’t have at home. No computer at all. We onlyhad one television, and that was in the living room. I wasn’tallowed to watch it alone. Anyway, when they taught us how to usecomputers at school and I discovered that the local library didn’tcensor search results, I started drawing my own conclusions. Ilearned that I didn’t have to be ashamed of who I am or need tochange myself. My parents disagreed. After enough arguments, theykicked me out. I was only sixteen and I’ve—” Been homeless eversince, except he didn’t want his date to know that. “It’s been astruggle.”

Harold looked aghast. “Man… I’m sosorry!”

“It’s fine,” Noah replied.“Everyone has problems.”

“Yeah, but that’sespecially rough. Think they’ll ever come around?”

Noah shrugged. “My mom got a laptop. I’mhoping that’ll change her mind the way it did mine.”

“I hope so.Wow.”

Their food arrived, but Harold didn’t touchhis.

Noah had no such reservations. He grabbed aknife and fork and dug in. After swallowing a few bites, he lookedup. “What about you?”

“My parents are cool.”Harold chuckled. “Old hippies. I haven’t managed to shock them yet.Anyway, back on track, your story is a little intense. It’s okay tobe honest, but maybe hold back on the details unless someone reallyasks.”

Noah’s chewing slowed. Then he swallowed.“What?”