Clint

Shit. I am so fucking late, and they are going to be PISSED. I ran a hand through my hair and straightened out my clothes, grabbing my jacket on the way out the door. I hoped that the shower water had drowned out the sound of my leaving as I poked my head out into the hallway. Good. Nobody. I slid my sunglasses over my eyes and crept out into the hallway of the trashy motel, keeping my head down and my pace quick. It is not a good idea to get caught fucking around with a groupie on your lunch break.

I was almost to the back door when a soft voice came from behind me. “Excuse me, sir?”

I slowed and sighed, knowing that I couldn’t blow off someone so polite. “Yes?” I responded without turning around. The less she saw of me, the better.

“Um, are you...Are you Clint Moffatt?”

Motherfucker. “Um...No. Who’s he?” I knew I didn’t sound convincing, but I didn’t care. I was late.

“Oh...Nothing. Never mind. I’m sorry.” She sounded so dejected. That poor girl. And she was so sweet. It’s not like she was going to maul me or anything...

I sighed and looked back to see her turning to go. “Wait,” I sighed, taking off my sunglasses. She looked back and her eyes lit up. It was adorable. “Yes, I’m Clint Moffatt,” I grumbled. “I’m just running late, that’s all.” She just stood there and looked at me with this little smile on her face and a glitter in her eye. “Um...Do you want an autograph or something?”

She giggled. “Um...”

Okay, so maybe stopping was a bad idea. ”Listen, I’ve gotta get going, but if you have something you want me to sign...”

She giggled again. “I...Um...Don’t go just yet. You...Your um...” She was flat out laughing now, and her face was about the color of Scott’s hair that one time it came out magenta. I shook my head and turned to go. “NO! Wait! Really.” She managed to compose herself for at least the moment, and took a breath before speaking again. “Your fly’s open.”

Motherfucker...

Dave

I checked my watch again, hoping that Isaac might get the hint that I was trying to get out of there. Wow, he was boring. I tried to be polite and hide a yawn by popping a french fry in my mouth, but I probably could have fallen asleep in my food and he wouldn’t have noticed. He was too busy talking about Gus Van Sant or something. He initially started out by asking me a question about Bob Rock, but I never got to answer it because he went off on a tangent about all Hanson’s producers. I imagine he had no idea that I already knew all about their producers, simply because they were Hanson’s producers.

“I don’t know,” Isaac was saying. “I think Taylor only wanted to work with Gus Van Sant because he wanted to write a song about being gay. And Gus is gay, you know? And “Weird”, no matter what Taylor tells you, is about being gay and in the closet. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard the song, but it’s totally obvious if you think about it and if you know Taylor...” Ramble ramble ram-...What?

I perked my ears just as Isaac finally stopped talking. “Is it really?” I asked bluntly, fully aware that he was probably going to go off on another tangent, but too shocked to care. I had never realized that, and I kicked myself for it. All that time that I’d thought Taylor was straight...

“Well, yeah,” Isaac answered. “Listen...

Reaching for a hand that’ll understand
Someone who feels the same
When you live in a cookie-cutter world if you’re different you can’t win...
And then there’s...
No one can hear
But you’re screaming so loud
You feel like you’re all alone
In a faceless crowd...”

Isaac went on to showcase more verses to the song I knew by heart, and I tuned him out again. It suddenly hit me that he was openly sharing Taylor’s sexuality with me. Was it that obvious that I was gay, too? I couldn’t help but feel like he knew something; otherwise he wouldn’t be so shameless about it. And if Isaac knew...Did my brothers know?

Taylor

Shit, Scott was gay. More so than I’d originally thought. I could tell about Dave right away, just from the way he dressed. But Scott seemed like more of the rock star type, more the kind that would cut off his own dick before messing around with a guy. How wrong I was.

There we were, kissing, touching, Scott with his legs wrapped around my waist and pushed up against the mirror. It was glorious to be so irresistible that even previously straight guys wanted you. I stopped myself from giggling at the thought by focusing on the soft flesh of his tongue as he became more investigative, finally getting up the courage to move his mouth onto my neck. I groaned in appreciation, knowing he would need the encouragement, but I couldn’t hear myself. I heard something else instead. I heard a door open...

Scott heard it too, because as soon as the rumble in my throat died down his head shot up from my neck and all the color drained from his face. I didn’t have to turn around to see what had happened, I just glanced at the mirror to see the figure standing in the doorway. I grinned at his shocked expression, until Scott finally dropped his legs from my waist and moved me aside to jump off the counter.

I finally turned so that I would be a part of the interesting conversation I knew was coming. After the silence, of course. The three of us stood in an awkward triangle, Scott and Clint staring at each other in disbelief, shame, and embarrassment, uncomfortable, I’m sure, almost to the point of vomiting. I knew I didn’t have the right to say anything; this was something they were going to have to work out themselves. Family matters.

Clint coughed. Scott did, too. I tried not to laugh.

“Um...Aren’t we supposed to be in make-up right now?” Clint finally spoke, his voice hoarse and his cheeks flushing a deep red color.

Scott checked his watch and cleared his throat. “Not for another hour.” His words came out slow and he blushed a cherry red, too.

Clint looked down at his own watch. “My watch says it’s 1:30...Didn’t we have to be here at one?”

Scott and I blinked at him, and this time I laughed out loud. “You’re still on Tulsa time, Clint. It’s only 12:30.”

Scott let out a little nervous laughter, sort of the “heh heh” kind, and I laughed again.

Clint still stood there and stared at him. He looked at me for just a moment, then back to Scott. “Um, okay. I...I’ll just go see if I can find something to eat.”

“You haven’t eaten yet?” Bob asked loudly as he and Zac came coasting into the room, both holding paper plates heavy with food. “Here.” Bob shoved the plate at his twin. “I’ll just go get some more.” He turned and sashayed out the door again and I nodded hello at my brother, who nodded back as he shoved a forkful of pasta in his mouth.

“Good shtuff...” he commented as he chewed. I shook my head. Zac has no manners. And it didn’t help that it was so quiet in the room; all you could hear was his loud munching and crunching of food. Of course, it took him forever to notice. Once he was done with his plate and his napkin had been royally spoiled, he looked up at us, who were all looking down at him. “Um...Clint, are you gonna eat that?”

I rolled my eyes at Zac’s comment, and noticed the disgusted look on Clint’s face as he shook his head no and handed his Styrofoam plate to my brother. I tried to catch Scott’s eye for a grin, but he was just staring at the floor. For a moment I felt guilty; I didn’t want this to cause trouble between him and his brothers. Then I frowned at myself. He liked it, didn’t he? It’s not my fault. But I couldn’t help wondering if he’d really wanted it to happen. I didn’t want him to regret anything. I bitterly recalled my own first sexual experiences and how my freedom of choice had been stolen. Looking at Scott, and the way he kept staring at the floor, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt, and prayed that he didn’t feel at all violated.

I was so busy staring at him and remembering that I barely realized it when he looked up and offered me a weak smile. I felt the corners of my own mouth twitch up in a combination of relief and sympathy, and tried to compel the sadness to leave my eyes before he saw it. Only as I shakily exhaled did I recognize that I hadn’t felt genuinely bad in years. Scott was still the focus of my stare, and I spontaneously pondered what it was about him that made me start to feel again.