Page 85 of Something Like Winter

Tim gripped the wheel with one hand, scrolling through the contacts on his phone with the other. Where was the bastard? Aha! Highlighting Marcello’s name, Tim pushed the button to call him and scowled against the morning light. His head hurt from the six-pack he had downed last night after Eric’s discovery. Tim had been a whiny nuisance and Eric had been a saint, listening to a list of worries so old that even Tim had grown tired of them.

“Good morning, Mr. Wyman!” Marcello sang in his ear.

“Fuck you!” Tim responded.

“I’d be honored to let you, if I weren’t such a domineering top.” Marcello chuckled at his own joke, before asking, “What’s wrong?”

“The cover ofGay Austin!”

“Ah, I just saw that myself. I wish the print quality of those magazines was better. They don’t do the photo justice.”

“You didn’t know about it ahead of time?” Tim asked, his anger taking a smoke break.

“I only deal in sales for the big clients. The little ones buy from our catalog.”

“Well, someone could have warned me about that before my face was plastered on the cover of a gay magazine!”

Marcello scoffed. “I thought you would be thrilled.”

“I’m in the closet, you asshole!”

“Oh!” The line crackled quietly before Marcello spoke again. “What’s the point?”

“Of what?”

“Of being in the closet.”

Tim snarled, hung up the phone, and tossed it to the passenger seat. What a dick!Gay Austin!was the sort of magazine given away for free in bookstores, along with other independent publications and real estate guides. Surely it was only a matter of time before someone recognized him.

He pulled up to the frat house, expecting his brothers to spill out the front door, howling with laughter. But when he got inside, everything was normal. The few guys who were awake were just as hung-over as he was, so no one paid him much attention.

Two days later, and still nothing had happened. Maybe he had overreacted. Tim hung around the frat house more than usual, waiting for the bomb to drop, but eventually let down his guard. He shouldn’t have. Returning to his room one night, he found a copy of the magazine on his bed.

“What’s this?” he said to Rick, but his roommate just stared at Tim with wide eyes, like he was going to be assaulted by a syringe full of gay at any second. “Did you put this here?”

When Rick didn’t answer, Tim tossed the magazine at him and went downstairs to the common room. The atmosphere got a whole lot thicker when he entered. Three brothers were lined up on the couch, each holding an open copy in front of their faces, snorting and snickering behind them. Tim noticed a couple more copies scattered around the room.

“Tim.”

He spun around. Quentin stood in the doorway. He was smiling, but his lips were tight.

“What’s up?” Tim said like nothing was wrong.

Quentin shook his head. No dice. He wasn’t getting off easy this time. “You want to explain yourself?”

“I needed some money and did some modeling.” Tim shrugged. “So what?”

“So what?” Quentin walked over and grabbed a copy from one of the guys on the couch. He looked at the front again, as if he couldn’t believe it. “It looks to me like you’re doing more than just modeling.”

“The other guy was straight,” Tim said. “It was just a job.”

“Oh, okay,” Quentin said sarcastically. “Theotherguy was straight. That’s good to know, Tim, because we’re real concerned about him.”

Quentin crossed his arms over his chest. A couple more brothers had entered the room, attracted by the raised voices. They weren’t looking too friendly.

“Is there something you want tell us?” Quentin pressed.

Travis walked in the room. The second he saw Tim, he turned and walked back out. Fuck him. Fuck everyone! Tim wasn’t going to stand there and beg for them to believe him. They never would anyway, not completely. “I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of,” he said.