This morning, I pretended to be asleep when he left for work. As soon as he was out the door, I bolted. I’ve been driving aimlessly for the past forty-five minutes, too workedup to go home. It’s not like I’ll be able to relax. I’ve got to get my head on straight before practice.
My experience with Devante wasn’t much different than Evan’s experience with Mike. They both used us in some way. I chose not to share much with Evan for a couple of reasons. One, it’s been three years and I thought I had moved on, and two, Devante used me for my money unlike Mike who used Evan as a metaphorical punching bag. Devante expected me to pay for everything–dates, his bills, anything he needed. I was young and dumb and fell right into his trap. He even convinced me to buy him a car and get a credit card in his name.
When we broke up, I let him keep the car and all the stuff I bought him. I closed the credit card but didn’t ask him to pay me back for anything. It wasn’t worth it. I cared more about keeping my sexuality a secret than I cared about the money. It pains me to admit, I paid him hush money, too. I gave him five hundred thousand dollars to keep his mouth shut about our relationship. No one knows that. Tyson knows about everything else, but not the hush money. I keep that to myself. It’s an embarrassing admission that isn’t anyone’s business.
It's barely eight in the morning when I find myself parking in front of Tyson’s condo. I shoot off a quick text telling him I’m here, so he will buzz me in then I take the elevator up to the top floor. He has a modern penthouse condo on the top floor of a seventy-five-story building overlooking Miami Beach with breathtaking views. When I step off the private elevator and into the hallway outside the penthouse, he is waiting for me in the open doorway.
“You look like hell.”
“Thanks.”
“Come on in.”
I follow him into the spacious room with floor-to-ceiling windows and panoramic views. It’s a huge open space. Down one hallway is the master suite, a small living room, and a home theater. Down the other are five bedrooms, and five bathrooms, one for his sister, Grace, and one for each of her four children. After her husband died in a small plane crash several years ago, Tyson bought this place, so she’d have a somewhere to live when she relocated to Miami to be close to family. His parents and her in-laws have their own apartments in the same building.
“Where are Grace and the kids?” I ask, walking into the quiet space.
“Grace took the kids to school. She’ll be back soon. Coffee?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
He pours us each a cup and gestures for me to sit on the couch. I sink on the soft, leather surface and take a long drink of the hot coffee. I’m not sure why I’m here. Hell, I didn’t even register the drive here.
“Something on your mind?” he asks when I’m quiet for too long.
“Too damn much,” I reply with a shake of my head.
“Did something happen between you and Evan?”
“Sort of.”
“You aren’t making this easy, Isaac,” he growls.
“I’m trying to figure out what to tell you. I don’t want to say something that’s going to embarrass or hurt Evan.”
“That tells me quite a bit.”
“What exactly does that tell you?” I snap.
“That whatever happened might be eating away at you, but you still love him and it didn’t damage your relationship.”
“We didn’t break up or really even have a fight. He has some money problems. We spent hours last night workingup a plan and budget. If he follows it, everything will be fine, and he can fix the issue.”
“I’m not seeing the problem.”
“I tossed and turned all night. All I can think about is this is a repeat of all the shit I went through with Devante.”
“Did Evan ask you for money?”
“No.”
“Did you offer him money?”
“No.”
“Did anything that happened last night or at any time in your relationship give you the impression that Evan wants money from you?”
“No.”