By Pfantazm

	By seven o'clock, I was still unprepared. I sat in my booth, nursing another hot chocolate and checked my watch again. I'd spent three quarters of an hour trying to figure out what I was going to say to him. What would I say to him if he was just borrowing Frank's space without asking him? I didn't think it would come up; the voice on the phone sounded like the one I'd heard through Frank's door. I was obsessing for the hundredth time when the door to the cafe opened. My first thought was that he was insane. Let me explain. I'm from Ontario originally. (You can't throw a rock in Vancouver without hitting a Starbucks or a refugee from another province.) We have real winters there. In Vancouver, it doesn't snow, it rains. But when the temperature rises near ten degrees (fifty Fahrenheit to you Yanks) there are those looneys who'll go out in shorts. Madmen, every last one of them. This particular kook was dressed in bicycle shorts no less. He was wearing a yellow jacket and looking around. My second thought was, that's Alan? Allow me to describe myself. I'm thin, but not gaunt, I don't wear glasses, no acne, no face-marring scar from barroom brawls. I don't have an extra finger, toe, eyeball, or nipple. In the right light, I'm halfway decent looking. Now, allow me to describe Alan. God damn! Perfect features, a model's face. Crystal blue eyes. Straight blond hair even his helmet couldn't ruin. Taller than me by a good four inches. And what I could see of the body? Holy shit. I once saw a magazine cover with a bodybuilder on it. It looked like someone had shoved a tire pump in his mouth and inflated him. Made me wanna puke. This guy, though, was gorgeous. Not overmuscled like that picture. The specimen in front of me knew his body was not a toy. Strong, powerful legs. Broad shoulders, flat stomach through his open jacket. Couldn't see the arms, but I didn't think I'd be disappointed. Not until he walked over to my table and said, "John?" "You. Uh, you must be Alan. Have a seat." He smiled and did so. My eyes were red from all the crying I'd been doing and I looked pale. In walks Mr. Wonderful and I have to wonder why Frank strayed? It was obvious; I wasn't good enough to satisfy him. What he wanted was right in front of me and the saddest part was I couldn't even blame him. In the time it took him to sit down, I knew just what to say to him. "You can have him. If you still want him after hearing what I have to say, he's yours and I hope you enjoy yourselves." Alan looked confused. "What are you talking about?" "I'm talking about Frank. I'm pretty sure you were at his apartment last night." Alan just stared. "And who are you?" "I was his boyfriend for the past five months." "That's not possible, I've been seeing Frank for the past few months myself." "Don't lie to me." I fished in my pocket. "Frank gave me the keys to his apartment." I laid them on the table. Alan reached into his pocket and withdrew a keyring. He separated a smaller ring with two keys on it, just like mine, and laid them on the table. "May I?" I asked. Alan's brow just furrowed so I picked up his set and compared them to mine. Outer door... and apartment door. "You're telling the truth." Still no light bulbs over Alan's head so I added, "The keys are identical." "Can I look?" I passed him both sets and he examined them. "He's been dating both of us. Where did he find the time?" I said. "Or the energy?" I glared at him. "Maybe we're still not talking about the same person," he suggested. "Maybe they're roommates or something." He dug out his wallet and showed me a picture. "Is that him?" The photo was of Alan and Frank, skiing. I felt myself start to cry again. I nodded. "That picture was taken during a surprise ski weekend we went on." "Yeah, that's Frank, alright," I said bitterly. "Him and his goddamn surprises." Alan smiled sadly. "Yeah. He's very controlling, but I don't mind." "Huh?" "You haven't noticed that about him?" I shook my head no. "When you've had sex, who's the bottom, you or him?" "He is." "Sometimes?" "Always." "Uh-hunh. It's true what they say: the bottom is the one in control. His surprises too. He's the only one who knows what's going on. His job, he's master of ceremonies. He doesn't sing, he just manages the whole show." "His cheating on us as well," I added. "He had to keep a few steps ahead of us to keep us from finding out about each other." "There you go. One control freak." I was still staring at the picture. "That must have been the weekend he said he was visiting his uncle." "It was. His uncle has a cabin near Whistler." "And he knows I hate the cold. I didn't want to go." I thought about our last time having sex. My jeans were around my thighs and he was sitting on top of me. He had it so that, not only could I not move, I didn't want to move. "God damn him." "So what should we do?" Alan asked. "I already told you. You want him, you got him." "No. I want to talk to him about this. If you're right, he's been jerking me around since he met me. We need to get him for it." "Then we'll hit him where it hurts. We'll take away his control. I haven't been to the karaoke bar in months. He's working tonight, right?" "As far as I know, but if we're going there, I'll want to get changed. It'll take maybe half an hour: home, get showered, dressed and back again in the car?" "Alright. We'll meet back here." Alan ran out to his bike to get going. Those shorts really don't hide anything. I'd gotten a good look at his crotch and his ass by now. I could see why he'd wear them even in weather like this. I got out a quarter and called home. Jeff answered on the second ring. "Hello?" "Hi. Guess what?" "What?" "The other guy, Alan? Frank's been seeing him regularly too. For months now." "Well, fuck. What an asshole! What are we going to do to him?" Most people would have said 'about him'. "We, Jeff, aren't doing anything. Alan and I are heading over to the bar as soon as Alan gets changed and picks up his car." "Picks up his car? Do you people walk everywhere?" "No, Jeff. Bike." Pause. "And he's changing out of...?" "Bicycle shorts, Jeff. And he earned 'em." Jeff could hear that I wasn't drooling, and that I was more dismayed than anything. "I get the impression Alan isn't too quick?" "Well. At first it sure seemed like he wasn't exactly the brightest light on Broadway, but he did have an insight into Frank I never noticed. He's a control freak." "You think?" "Yeah. It fits. So?" "So fuck him. If Frank can't see what a great guy you are, then he's not too bright either. There's better out there." "Thanks, Jeff. Don't wait up, by the way. We'll probably end up having to wait until his shift is over." "Okay. You be careful." "I will. See you tomorrow." I hung up and ordered a sandwich at the counter. I hadn't had time for dinner, had slept through lunch, and there wouldn't be anything much at the bar. I wasn't facing this on an empty stomach. I didn't feel much like eating, but I'd regret it if I didn't. I picked at it until Alan returned. I'd managed to eat most of it at least. Alan's car was a compact of indeterminate make and model. It was a weird metallic olive green color. It looked like it was in the habit of breaking down, but it ran perfectly from what I could tell. I don't know cars. I climbed into the passenger seat. Alan's seat was considerably farther back than mine. I had no idea how he could possibly be comfortable in a car this small. Alan must have seen me calculating heights, because he said, "It was a gift when I graduated high school." "And you had one more growth spurt up your sleeve?" He laughed as we pulled into traffic. "It was the old family car and I kinda inherited it when Mom and Dad got the new car." We kept on talking all the way to Frank's workplace. We discussed cars (Alan carried the conversation there, and let's face it, he was built enough to carry something like that), my column (no great shock: he hadn't read it), and where we would hide the body. I think I had all the practical, and yet still creative, ideas on that last subject. Once we had drifted away from matters automotive, I managed to keep Alan in merriment for most of the trip. He had a great laugh, and I guess I was discovering that I love an audience. We made our way near the front, a table or two back from the stage, inconspicuous, but still visible. I watched his expression. I knew he was supposed to keep track of all the new customers coming in, so he can enforce the rule that everyone must sing. He saw me, and he saw Alan, and I could see his eyes widen. He was in shadow, but I'd swear he turned pale. "He's seen us," I said jovially. "Now the real show can begin." Alan snickered and took a seat. He hung his jacket on the back of his chair. He wore a dark blue T-shirt and tight jeans. I was right about his arms. "I wonder if he'll come over for his break," I said. "If he asks us what song we're doing, I'm going to knock his teeth out." Might, perhaps, Jeff's vindictive streak be rubbing off on me? Nah. "Aren't you being a little... intense about this, John? We ought to hear what he has to say." I looked at Frank at his controls and imagined him sweating. "I don't think you're getting into the proper spirit here, Alan," I said conversationally. "Do you two have sex?" Stupid question. "Uh-hunh." "Use condoms?" "Until we get tested enough times and come back negative, yeah." "Fat lot of help that is if he's sleeping around. Two nights ago he and I had sex without a condom. That might have been the moment he committed my murder. No offense, but if he can have two partners, he could have more." "But if he was the bottom--" "Doesn't matter. HIV's been transmitted in both directions." Alan studied the table. "I'm sorry if I'm depressing you," I said. "I've had a while to think about this. You're just finding out. How are you holding up?" I put my hands on his, which were resting on the table. "Alright, I guess. I still trust him. I want to hear what he has to say first." Oh, lord, kid, I thought, just stamp VICTIM on your forehead, why dontcha? I have to admit, I was feeling sort of protective of Alan. He didn't look or act like he was as old as Frank or I, maybe hadn't had a real relationship before this. And wasn't there something about the enemy of my enemy is my friend? Maybe Alan wasn't feeling enough enem-osity to qualify but the theory was still sound. Frank had crapped on his head too. Alan might not have been ready to lynch him, but I knew I wanted Frank to suffer right then. So let's get the ball rolling. Alan still looked downcast. "Come on, man, don't feel down. You want to hear a dirty joke? A white horse fell in the mud." Alan gave me a pained look. "Alright, how about a real dirty joke?" I proceeded to do my best to make my muscular new friend laugh as often as possible. And because the other patrons were singing loudly, we both had to lean in so he could hear me. I kept looking over to Frank's station to see how he was doing. He saw the two of us talking conspiratorially, laughing at regular intervals and looking over at him. He was definitely sweating. Once it seemed to Alan that this was how we were spending time until we dealt with Frank, he contributed some horribly corny gags himself. All in all we were having a good time. For the second time, I considered what would happen if Alan and I were to get together. And for the second time, I quashed the idea. There'd probably be too much let's-get-back-at- Frank for me to even enjoy the sex. Besides, I wanted something more than just sex and I didn't see enough in common between me and him for a relationship. Finally, Frank's shift was over, and he had to face us. He came over to the table as the place was closing. "Hello," he said. I chimed in right away. "Hi, Frank. Look who I found." He looked properly embarrassed. "I'd like a chance to explain. It's something I think you'll want to hear, John." That he specified me was significant, I knew. What it specified, I didn't have a clue. I looked to Alan. "You still want to hear him out?" Alan was admiring the patterns in the veneer tabletop. He looked like I imagined I must have walking home through the rain, like he hadn't really believed that this strange person who told jokes at him all night long really knew Frank. "Are you going to be okay?" I asked him. Frank sat at the table. I grimaced at him. He'd done enough. If Alan was going to be getting any kind of comfort, it'd have to be from me. "Yeah. Let's get this over with." Attaboy, Alan. "I'm in then. This should be an amusing way to end our evening."

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