If We Weren't Married

"I had to check out some locations down in San Diego for a movie script I'm working on," Jerome answered in a neutral voice. "I left you a note."

"Yes, but you didn't say where you'd gone and you had your cellphone off."

"Did I?" Jerome said coolly. That wasn't admitting that he'd had it off on purpose--that he didn't want to talk to either Todd or Jamie while he was gone. "Jamie doesn't seem to be here," he added.

"No, he's off somewhere with Christopher Newgate."

"Christopher Newgate, the movie producer?"

"The same."

"Jamie's just making contacts," Todd said. He didn't seem to be concerned.

"By bed hoping?" Jerome said.

"It's the Hollywood way, isn't it?"

"And you're not concerned? And, more important, you're not concerned that I'm concerned. Jamie's my son."

"Which is where he got his great genes from," Todd said, giving Jerome his version of a sexy smile that had worked on millions of theatergoers. "Are you going to eat that other roll? I'm famished. We worked right through dinner." He came in close behind Jerome, putting one hand on the man's shoulder while reaching for the dinner roll. He dipped his head to where they could kiss if Jerome turned his head toward him.

Jerome didn't turn his head toward him. "Jamie's my son and you're my husband," he said.

Either Todd didn't get what Jerome was saying or he didn't want to get it. "Speaking of husband," he said, "how are the plans for our third anniversary party coming? Did you miss anything from being gone and having your cellphone turned off?"

"Everything is in train," Jerome said, with a sigh. Even more than you know, he was thinking.

On the day of the anniversary party, which was held at the Mesa Verde Club house, Todd had just greeted a set of guests at the door and was showing them the way to the party room at the back of the house, when he heard a "Hi, Dad," and turned, in shock, at hearing the familiar voice.

"Son," he said. "You've come to the party." He hadn't spoken to his son for five years. The only way he knew where the young man was from year to year and that he was alive was that Todd's ex-wife made sure to let him know where he could send the settlement checks.

"I received an invitation. I thought you wanted me to come."

"An invitation?" Todd repeated, confused.

"I invited him," Jerome said, approaching the father and son in the foyer. "I thought you needed a lesson in how to deal with family members."

"I don't understand," Todd said. "Jamie isn't here. He's off in Hawaii with Christopher Newgate." Todd's son said nothing. He was standing there somewhat in shock.

"Yes, that's certainly part of it," Jerome said. "After you fucked your husband's son, you turned him over to a movie producer to toy with. But, speaking of sons..."

"Yes, this is my son," Todd said.

"Travis Robinson, right?" Jerome asked. "We've already met--recently. That three-day trip I made to San Diego? I was fucking your son practically all the time I was there. He's working at the Del Coranado Hotel now, in case you didn't know."

"Fucking my son? Is this true, Travis?"

"Yes, but I didn't know this guy was your husband, Dad?"

"But why?" Todd asked, turning to Jerome.

"You can be very hardheaded sometimes, Todd--like you've been about how to treat family--husbands and sons. You needed to know how I felt when you decided to fuck my son. Now, let's go in and see how good an actor you are--let's party with our friends to celebrate being married, and see if we can start this marriage off again--because, I swear, Todd, if I didn't want to be married to you and if we weren't actually married..."