Jamie said goodbye to Robert and walked to the house he shared with three others, two men and one woman. As he went to the kitchen for a glass of water he bumped into the house mother Helen, who said Anthony was mad at him for some slight.
"He came storming in here just a few moments ago saying you were trying to steal a boyfriend," said Helen, a friendly and fit 30-something. "He slammed his door and it sounded like he was throwing things around. It's your job to cage the beast."
"I have no idea what he's talking about," said Jamie. "Sounds like the usual drama."
The shared house was another of the hundreds of three-story stone walk ups built after World War I in the neighborhood. The places were meant to last forever but features like staircases and windows were feeling their age. Landlords had been converting them into apartments or group living arrangements, attracting the gays congregating around DuPont Circle.
Jamie walked up the creaky steps to the floor he shared with Anthony, a small, girlish 21-year-old whose affairs with several athletes at his high school made his homosexuality obvious to the community of powerful black Washingtonians that included his family. Anthony was studying law at Howard University, the prestigious, historically black college south of the Circle.
Jamie and Anthony had met through Jamie's record store job and soon become lovers. That had evolved into a friendship with occasional sex when both were feeling horny and alone. They decided to move into the group home together after seeing an ad in DC's free alternative weekly asking for two renters. Helen was the third and the fourth was a man who showed up a couple times a month when he flew in for meetings with Capitol Hill bigshots.
Anthony was brilliant and hardworking and had an extraordinary ability to read people and the needs that drove them. Law was the perfect profession for him. Any family would be proud to call him their son. Except his own. They found his openness about his sexuality and effeminate mannerisms disgusting.
Jamie took a breath and knocked on Anthony's door.
"What do you want?" was the cry from inside.
"Anthony, can I come in?" Jamie asked as he turned the knob and slowly opened the door.
Anthony was lying in bed with the covers over his head. Silence. Jamie entered the room, closed the door, and sat down at the desk.
"Helen said you were mad at me," said Jamie. He had experienced the man's emotional behavior and knew it was best to be the calm presence in the center of the storm.
Anthony threw off the covers, sat up, stared at Jamie with red-rimmed eyes, and said, "The problem is you are a sneaky shit who pretends to be a friend while stealing boyfriends."
The odd outburst had no logical explanation to Jamie. "I don't know what you are talking about."
"I'll tell you. You were at our friendly neighborhood restaurant this evening. You were there hitting on a waiter. The waiter is Hank, a lovely boy who happens to be a good friend of mine. An exceptionally good friend. I do not appreciate this underhanded behavior."
Jamie responded in the same calm manner, as if giving testimony. "I was in the restaurant dining with a friend. The waiter was professional and friendly to us as we were to him. We finished our meal and left."
"That is not what I was told. I heard you were all over him, making advances and practically taking his clothes off in public," said Anthony. "It is true you were with a friend, a handsome large black man, I'm told. The man was described as a hunk. I'm told he bought you dinner. You would think that man would be enough for you without trying to seduce a sweet and innocent waiter," Anthony said.
Jamie realized that Anthony was staging the crying fit to get all the juicy details about his new lover Robert, the black hunk. We had one meal together an hour ago, thought Jamie, and the neighborhood is already gossiping about them.
"Your innocent friend Hank was quite forward and made it clear he was interested in the both of us," said Jamie. "Robert and I are interested in each other. We had no interest in people trying to nose in so they can go gossip with friends."
Jamie stared at Anthony who looked away.
"Why don't you come right out and ask about the 'black hunk' as you describe him," said Jamie.
"OK, so who is he? Give me the details. Hank said he was gorgeous," said Anthony.
Jamie proceeded to share background on his whirlwind affair with Robert. They met at the gym, the attraction was mutual, they had great sex, they met again the next day, they had great sex. Robert was in town for a few months taking a class. It wasn't clear if they would see each other again.
"Don't ask me for personal details. He's very closeted. I had to beg him to go out to dinner," said Jamie. "Besides, he hasn't shared much about his personal life."
Anthony mulled that over. "How is he in bed?"
Jamie kept it brief. "I keep going back for more, don't I? That is all I'm saying. I'm not feeding you information to share with all your queeny friends."
Anthony stuck out his tongue. He went on to discuss one of his favorite peeves -- white men with money and power got the most attractive Black men while most brothers were left out in the cold. Jamie was sympathetic but had heard the complaint before.
"I have no money or power. The guy wanted to fuck me. Is that my fault?" Jamie said.
"It happens because black folks are taught from birth that white is beautiful and black is ugly," said Anthony. "You already have the power."
Jamie believed America desperately needed Affirmative Action and the civil rights bills passed in the 1960s to address the wrongs that whites had done to black people for four hundred years. He agreed with most of Anthony's arguments. That was the point -- Anthony was preaching to the converted when repeating his stump speech.
Anthony could see Jamie wasn't in the mood for a talk about race relations.
"Well, it's on my mind because I just learned about another beautiful brother that wants your skinny white butt," said Anthony. "If you aren't nice, I won't tell you about him."
