Page 39 of Sweet T

Tucker nodded. “That’s a good way to put it. It’s definitely simmered down over the years, from whatever it was. Daddy keeps the lines of communication open because they’re the mayors of neighboring towns. Business-wise, it makes sense. They’ll be at the wedding.”

Evan’s eyes flashed with surprise. “That’s odd to me. Inviting your enemies to your wedding... your gay wedding.”

“Rivals, remember? Not enemies. Whether they come is up to them. But it would be rude not to invite them.”

“Reminds me of that old saying... keep your friends close, but your enemies closer?”

“For sure. But back to your question. Being raised by two gay men was... normal. I mean, I don’t really have anything else to base it on. We were just... happy.”

“And then Javy came along.”

Tucker’s demeanor shifted again, his voice lowering. “Yeah. Javy’s a lot like Daddy. Not physically, but ambitious. He went out for everything, trying his best to fit in. I can’t blame him for that. He excelled in sports and studies. He was good at everything.”

“And you?” Evan asked tentatively.

“No. I was a slow study. I had to work extra hard to pass. Went to summer school once, just so I could graduate with Shelly. I was terrible at sports, too. Didn’t make the football team. Tried wrestling my freshman year, but my heart just wasn’t in it.”

Evan reached out and squeezed Tucker’s large hand in his. “It’s OK, you know. High school seems like the end-all, be-all, but it’s not, you know?”

“I just wanted to make him proud—Daddy, that is. But nothing I ever did was enough.”

“In your eyes, or in his?”

“Definitely in mine and, I think, in his. For sure, he focused more on Javy because of football. Daddy is well-remembered for high school football. Through Javy, he got to relive his past glory with all his friends and their kids now playing. I couldn’t give him that. I didn’t even want to go to the games.”

“It’s not your fault, Tucker.”

“Can we talk about something else now? You were gonna tell me about one of your tattoos. I want to know about this one.” Tucker reached out and touched Evan’s right pectoral.

Evan had laid hands on Tucker a few times during this conversation, but this was the first time Tucker had touched him since the bathtub. A sensation rippled through Evan as a result, making the hair on his neck tingle. When Tucker retracted the finger, inquisitive, yet oblivious, Evan physically missed the contact. He wanted to reach out and place Tucker’s entire hand on his chest and hold it there.

Instead, he said, “Brando. It’s Marlon Brando, from The Wild One.”

“I’ve seen it. I don’t really remember it, though. Pedro and I used to watch old movies together. I think he had a crush on the guy.”

“Many did. I do. He’s a bit old-school for 2015. But in his day, whew, both men and women wanted him. Rumor has it he was OK with either.”

“Why put him on your chest, though? Because he’s hot? Why is he on this side, and the masks on the other side?”

“Aha! You’re trying to get twofer.”

Tucker grinned. “Maybe. I just assume there’s a strategy for placing tattoos. If not, there should be. I mean, they are permanent.”

“You’re right, and I was just teasing. I don’t mind telling you about both. The masks are Greek—comedy and tragedy. They’re on the left side with my heart because acting is my love. It’s near and dear to my heart.”

“Makes sense. So, what about the other?”

“Marlon? He was—is—one of the best actors we’ve ever had. He brought a deeper sense of realism to movies. Before his generation, a lot of films were stilted, actors were just reading lines. Brando studied the Stanislavsky method. Method acting, they call it. Natural pauses in speech, reflection, introspection. Sorry.” Evan chuckled. “I’m going off the deep end here.”

“No. I like it. There’s a fire in your eyes. No denying.”

“It’s just—when Brando played hurt, you felt hurt. When he was happy, you sensed it, rather than saw it. He wasn’t afraid to look ridiculous either, sometimes at his disadvantage. But overall, he was simply an amazing performer, especially in films like On the Waterfront and A Streetcar Named Desire. He was a troubled soul, though. Lot of chaos in his personal life.”

“So, you have him captured in his prime, right there on your chest. From the looks of it, he could play steamy too.”

“Smoldering. You remind me of him.” The words were out of Evan’s mouth before he could stop.

Tucker shifted in his chair, his face flushing.