Resist by Cat - RPS
(Originally posted @ author’s LJ, which has since been purged - catkcrl.livejournal.com)
Author’s Notes: This started out to be something else entirely – fluffier, shorter, porn-ier. The fact that it turned
out as serious as a heart attack is solely the fault of my muse. I tried to talk her into a compromise, but she
wasn’t havin’ it. I have no thought that anything about this story is true. I’ve taken a few commonly known
facts about Gale Harold (his tattoo, his family’s involvement in the Pentecostal Church, his manager’s name
[Suzanne DeWalt], his truck, and the fact that he proclaimed himself straight in an interview with Flaunt
magazine in Feb, 2002) and woven them into an imaginary story. How close I got, or didn’t get to the truth, is
for Gale to know and the rest of us to wonder about. I know nothing about Randy Harrison beyond the fact that
his parents have been very supportive of him, he grew up in Atlanta, and went to college in Cincinnati.
Therefore, anything I have written about him is pure speculation, contrived purely to drive the plot. Think of it
as RPS AU.
And, yeah, I incorporated some popular fanfic!Justin and fanfic!Brian traits into Randy and Gale because, like, I
can.
I hope this entertains you.
Chapter One
Gale sat quietly picking at his dinner. He wasn’t really hungry, but he hadn’t had anything better to do, so he’d
decided to try out a little Thai restaurant Randy had been eyeing for a couple of weeks. If it was any good,
maybe he’d try and talk Randy into dinner here on the weekend. He finally sighed and put down the fork,
wishing Randy was here now, but they probably wouldn’t wrap tonight until well after midnight. For the next
few nights shooting was scheduled outside on Church Street. They were working on the ‘pink posse’ story arc
and Randy was going to be working the night shift all week with the second unit crew. Gale had thought about
going along just to watch, but as much as he loved filming the show himself, just watching the sometimes
monotonous repetition could be a crushing bore. Tonight, he was too restless to deal with it. But maybe he
should have gone along anyway, he thought. At least he and Randy would have some time together between
shots. There had been precious little togetherness of late.
The waiter returned, asking Gale if he wanted his wine glass refilled and after a moment he nodded his assent.
After all, he didn’t have anything better to do. He sighed. As much as he hated to admit it, his relationship with
Randy was beginning to show the strains of his continued reluctance to reveal to the world that he wasn’t quite
as straight as he claimed to be after all, and this separation wasn’t helping. To make matters worse, when they
returned to Toronto last fall, they’d agreed to live in separate apartments. They’d lived together in New York
for most of the summer and it had been pure bliss as far as Gale was concerned. But they were a lot more
anonymous in New York than they were in Toronto, and living together here was only going to attract attention
that Gale hadn’t felt ready for. Gale knew Randy didn’t like it, but had gone along with it. Now he was
wondering if Randy wasn’t right after all. It sure wasn’t doing their relationship any good, and Gale couldn’t sit
on the fence forever. At some point he was going to have to shit or get off the pot.
“Fuck”, he thought, raking his hand thru his hair. “Why the fuck did I ever tell that woman from that magazine
that I was straight.” The truth is, at the time he hadn’t known why he’d done it, and he’d realized it was
probably a mistake almost immediately. He didn’t know why he hadn’t done what he’d always done – just
refused to answer, or ignored the question, or even been coy and told her he was under contractual obligation to
keep that to himself. That bullshit had worked more than once. But even that was a cop-out and he knew it.
Regardless of why he’d done it, he did it – and she’d bought it, hook line and sinker. He told her he was straight
and she accepted it without question. She even went on to call him “a total guy’s guy” in the very next
paragraph, waxing poetic about his truck, his obsession with Italian racing bikes and his brief flirtation with
construction work. It was like she was in collusion with him, providing him with public and irrefutable evidence
of his oh-so-masculine straightness. He shook his head at the memory. After his impromptu declaration, she’d
spent the rest of the interview blatantly flirting with him, going so far as putting her hand on his thigh at one
point. Maybe she’d believed his bullshit because she’d wanted to believe it, hoping she had a chance at him.
Whatever. It was nothing new and had happened countless times before. He might have been glad his
performance was so convincing if he hadn’t been so damned disappointed in himself. Almost as disappointed as
she’d been, ending the interview no closer to his dick than she’d been when it started.
So he’d perpetuated the myth of his heterosexuality to the press and the public yet again -- the truth was that he
lied to almost everybody. Well, maybe “lie” was too strong a word. Up until that interview, it was more like
“willfully misled”. He knew for a fact that a lot of the people that he worked with assumed he was straight even
if he never came right out and said it – probably most of them, if he was honest about it -- and he’d done
nothing to discourage the perception. In fact, he’d subtly cultivated it. Only a few really knew the truth; he
knew a couple of the others suspected, but Randy, Peter and Bobby knew for sure. Even though he’d never
asked them to, they all kept his secret for him, somehow knowing that he wasn’t ready, leaving it to him to pick
the place and time of his public ‘outing’. He envied all of them, really. They were out and proud, and sometimes
he just felt like a coward, stuck in the morass of his own deceptions. For the longest time it hadn’t really
mattered, but now it was affecting the one thing he had in his life that really meant something to him: Randy.
He sighed and drained his wine glass and motioned the waiter to fill it once more as he lit another cigarette. He
rested his chin in the palm of his hand and stared out the window, watching the cars and the people move by,
going about their business. There was a light mist and the street was wet, reflecting the lights of the cars as they
passed. Watching the scene outside made him feel lonely. All those people had somewhere to be, something to
do. He felt like he was motionless, paralyzed by his own deception and unable to do anything about it. He
leaned back in his chair and thought back to that interview and once again tried to figure out what the hell he’d
been thinking when he answered that reporter’s question. He’d tried to hedge it at first, saying he didn’t know
what to do with it, how trying to answer it was hysterical. He guessed he’d been trying to buy time or
something, but for some reason he’d just blurted it out....”I’m straight.” He winced at the memory. The
interview had taken place almost two years ago, and remembering it still made him cringe. He and Randy were
already an item back then. It had been the beginning of their relationship, really, and that interview had almost
been the end of it. Gale had finally gotten up enough courage to reveal to Randy how he felt about him maybe
three months before the interview. He’d never forget the look on Randy’s face when he’d read it. It was almost
over right then and there.
The waiter came back and asked if he’d like anything else and Gale could recognize the guy’s thinly veiled
attempt to encourage his customer to finish up and vacate the table. Gale looked at his watch; it was after 9 p.m.
They probably wanted to start cleaning up for the night, so he drained his glass one last time, put out his smoke
and left a hefty tip along with his bill. He turned up the collar on his jacket and headed out into the night.
*****************************************************
Walking back to his apartment had seemed like a great idea until he’d gotten about half way there. It had started
to rain even harder then, and by the time Gale actually got home he was pretty well soaked. He unlocked the
door and flipped on the light switch as he went inside. Every time he came home, some stupid part of him
expected to find Randy there waiting for him. He almost never was these days, but Gale was never able to
squash that glimmer of hope he got every time he stuck the key in the lock. He started peeling off his wet
clothes as he headed toward the kitchen, and was down to his underwear by the time he reached the refrigerator.
He was opening the last bottle of water when his cell phone rang. Randy’s name appeared on the caller ID.
“Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.”
“How’s it going?”
“How do you think? I’ve had to punch this guy – he’s one of the day players – about 14 times. Once I missed
and actually hit him. I’m wet, and I’m cold. It’s raining out here off and on so we have to stop every time that
happens, and one of the guys in the car couldn’t get his line right if you held a gun to his head. Christ, all he has
to do is yell ‘faggot’ at me. How hard can that be?”
“That good, huh?” Gale snickered. “So how much longer?”
“They said we’re going to wrap at midnight. I can’t wait. I’m freezing my ass off out here.”
“Wanna come over?”
Randy was silent for a moment and Gale could hear his own heart beating behind his eardrums as he waited for
him to answer. “I don’t know, Gale, I’m really tired and I have to be back on the set at seven.”
“I want to see you.”
“You’ll see me in the morning. You have a seven a.m. call, too, you know.”
Gale closed his eyes and tried not to sound petulant as he tried another approach. “That’s not really ‘seeing’
each other. I guess what I really mean is that I think we need to talk.”
Randy was again silent and suddenly Gale realized what he’d done. “No, Ran, I want to talk about ‘us’ but it’s
not .... it’s not what you think. Fuck, every time I say something like this you automatically think I’m going to
break it off with you, don’t you?”
Randy remained silent and Gale knew why. “Ran....Randy....this isn’t going very well, I know, but that doesn’t
mean I don’t want us to be together. I do. We just need....no I need...to do something about this.” He swallowed
hard before he continued, knowing that Randy knew full well what ‘this’ meant. “We can’t keep going on like
this. We’re both miserable. There has to be a way to fix it.”
“I’m not miserable.”
“Oh, fuck you, yes you are, and I don’t blame you. Look, why don’t I go over to your place. I’ll be there when
you get home.”
Randy sighed in resignation. “We’re going to be up all night.”
“If we talk AND fuck....probably.”
Randy was finally smiling. He could hear it in his voice. “No chance we could ditch the talking and just go for
the fucking, is there?”
“Ahh, no.”
Randy snorted. “Fine. I’ll be there a little after midnight.”
“I’ll be waiting for you.”
Gale held the phone for a long minute after Randy hung up. He knew what Randy needed from him; he’d
known all along. What was starting to occur to him, however, was that maybe he needed it for himself even
more.
Chapter Two
At about fifteen minutes past midnight, Randy opened the door to his apartment and found Gale sitting on the
sofa waiting for him. Randy could always tell when Gale was feeling anxious and vulnerable, and the ashtray
on the end table next to him was filled with the evidence of his anxiety. Randy put down his bag and slowly
took off his coat.
“You OK?’
“No.”
“I can tell. What’s up?” He already knew the answer but he flopped down next to Gale on the couch and
waited for him to reply.
“I can’t stand this.”
“Define ‘this’”.
Gale frowned and turned his face toward the wall. “Don’t be fucking dense. You know what I mean.” He
swallowed. “I feel like I’m losing you.”
Randy had dreaded this conversation, but he’d known it was inevitable. Over the summer he thought they’d
been making progress. He’d convinced himself that if he just gave Gale enough time, he’d conquer his fear, or
get sick of living in the closet he’d constructed for himself, and give up his little pretense of being unwaveringly
straight. Randy knew for a fact that, regardless of what Gale thought, not too many people were really buying it
anymore. At least nobody that knew Gale at all. And Randy himself was tired of the inertia in their
relationship. He was in love with Gale and wanted a life out in the open with him. The longer time went on,
though, he wasn’t sure what he’d choose if he couldn’t have both. He was afraid that the life out in the open
part was going to become more important to him than being with Gale.
“Randy?” Gale’s voice pulled him out of his reverie and he looked up at Gale, unable to miss the apprehension
in his eyes.
“Sorry. Lost in thought.” He squeezed Gale’s hand in an attempt to reassure him. “You’re not losing me. I’m
still here.”
“You’re not as ‘here’ as I wish you were.”
Randy took a deep breath and tried to keep his voice neutral. “Living in separate apartments was your idea,” he
said gently. “You know I didn’t want that, after New York, but I went along because you needed me to.”
Gale pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I know .... I know. I just didn’t know how much I’d hate not
living with you all the time. I miss you. I miss your stuff all over the place. I miss stupid shit....grocery
shopping and battling over the TV and taking a shower with you every morning. I miss going to sleep with you
every night.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I want us to move back in together.”
“Are you sure about that? I mean, have you really thought about it? Don’t have an emotional reaction here,
Gale, because I need you to make up your mind about whether we’re together or whether we aren’t.”
“What do you mean? Of course we’re together.”
“No, we aren’t, Gale, and that’s the problem.” Gale turned away, and Randy could feel his discomfort, but he
needed to finally tell Gale how he really felt. “You think we’re together, and maybe in your mind we are, but
your definition of ‘together’ and mine are pretty far apart right now. And you know that if I were a girl, we’d
be a whole lot more ‘together’ than we are.”
“That’s not fair,” Gale whispered.
“Yes, it is fair, and you know it’s the truth. Look, I love you, but I’m sick of feeling like your dirty little
secret.”
“You are not my dirty little secret.”
“I’m sure starting to feel that way! We don’t live together.....”
“I just asked you to move back in,” Gale interrupted.
“Why, so you can pretend we don’t live together like you did before?” Randy shot back. “And that’s not the
only problem, Gale. The only places we can go out together are places where you think nobody will recognize
us. I’ve never met your family; you’ve met mine just once. In almost three years, we’ve never spent a holiday
together. For fuck’s sake, the people we work with every day aren’t even supposed to know we’re seeing each
other, even though nearly all of them do. They just pretend they don’t for your sake. We had this little ‘play
house’ vacation in New York for the summer but only because nobody knew you were living in my apartment
except a few people from the theater. Then we come back here and you want separate apartments. That’s not
together, Gale. I’ve gone along with all of it because I love you, because I’ll always love you, but don’t fool
yourself into thinking we’re ‘together’. Just because we fuck and I sleep at your place, or you at mine, for 5 or
6 nights a week doesn’t mean we’re sharing a life.” Randy’s attempt to keep his emotions in check failed
miserably. By the end of his speech, he was close to tears. The floodgates closed and the tirade stopped, but
only because he was afraid his voice would crack, giving him away, and freaking Gale out even more.
He waited for Gale to say something, and prodded him gently when he didn't. “Aren’t you going to say
anything?”
“What do you want me to say, Ran? If you expect me to debate this with you, I can’t. You’re right, about
everything you said. I didn’t let myself think about how all this must be affecting you and I guess I am fooling
myself. I thought I had all the time in the world to deal with my ‘issues’ but I don’t have as much time as I
thought I did. I can’t expect you to be okay with this forever. ”
“Look, I’m willing to give you all the time you need, and I always have been, but I’m not willing to give you
time to do nothing. This isn’t healthy. It isn’t healthy for me, and certainly not for you. And it’ll end our
relationship if nothing changes. That’s not a threat, Gale, it’s just the truth. We can’t go on like this; it’ll
eventually destroy everything we feel for each other, and you know that.”
Gale leaned back on the sofa and lit yet another cigarette. He’d smoked so much in the last few hours that his
voice was getting hoarse, but he just kept lighting one after the other. “I don’t know what to do,” he said softly.
“Yes, you do. You just live your life. Fuck what other people think. So what if you told that journalist you’re
straight. Tell them you made it up, tell them you were just kidding, tell them the devil made you do it, or don’t
tell them any fucking thing at all. Who you sleep with has fuck-all to do with them anyway.”
“It’s just that....two years later....all of a sudden I’m supposed to jump up and say ‘April fool, I’m really
queer’....it’s not that easy. I’m going to look like an asshole.”
“Christ is that all you’re worried about? Who the fuck gives a shit? You never gave a shit before! In fact,
you’re the last person who gives a shit about shit like that. What is it you always tell me? ‘You don’t owe
anybody an explanation for your life’. Well, that goes for you, too”
“Yeah,” Gale whispered. “Easy for you to say.”
Finally Randy couldn’t take it anymore and what he’d suspected for months finally came out of his mouth. “No
it isn’t, but that’s beside the point. The truth is, this isn’t about that fucking article, is it.”
“What?”
“The article. It’s not the goddamned article that’s bothering you.”
Gale cleared his throat and Randy could see the beginnings of panic in his eyes. “Look, Randy, I know I said I
wanted to talk, but...” His voice trailed off.
“But now you don’t.”
“Not exactly ‘don’t’. It’s more like ‘can’t’. You’re right. The article bothers me a little but that’s not all of it.
Fuck, I don’t know WHAT I’m feeling. I feel like I want to just open the door and walk right out into the light
with everybody else, but I can’t find the fucking doorknob, and it scares the shit out of me. Does that make any
sense at all?”
Randy paused a moment, trying to be careful of what he said. He sensed that Gale was reaching a crossroads
here, and Randy wanted to make sure he ended up on the right road. Or at least he didn’t want to be responsible
for pushing him onto the wrong one. “I told you once that I would wait forever for you if I had to, and I still
feel like that’s true. I can wait for you for as long as you need. But me waiting is not the problem here. I think
YOU’RE the one that can’t wait much longer. If you’re having so much trouble working this all out on your
own, maybe you should consider asking someone to give you a hand.”
Gale scoffed. “Fling myself on the mercy of some shrink and beg him to fix poor broken little me?”
“No, talk to someone who can maybe help you sort out what you’re feeling and why you’re having so much
trouble adjusting to those feelings.”
Gale immediately dropped the sarcasm that had crept into his voice, and whispered, “I’m sorry. This hurts you,
doesn’t it?”
“What hurts me is that you claim you love me, but you spend most of your time in denial over it. It makes me
feel like you’re ashamed of what you feel for me....that you’re ashamed of me.”
“I’m not, Randy, I swear I could never be ashamed of you.”
“Then you need to figure out what it is that’s making you act like you are.”
“Do you want me to go?" Gale asked softly.
“For tonight, maybe it’s best. I’m really tired and I just don’t have what it takes to deal with this right now.
But, Gale...” he lifted Gale’s chin to make sure he was looking at him and paying attention. “I want you to
come back tomorrow.”
“Why is it that one minute I’m pulling away from you, but when you push me away the only thing I want to do
is hang on to you for dear life?” Gale asked miserably.
“Listen to me.” He looked directly into Gale’s eyes for emphasis. “Are you listening? I’m not pushing you
away. I’m telling you that you have some stuff to work out and that for right now I’m tired, but I’m not pushing
you away. This is just time out. Now go home, and let’s both get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay.” He leaned over and kissed Randy gently on the lips and reluctantly slipped on his jacket. With a sad
parting smile, he closed the door behind him.
Chapter Three
‘Well, here goes,” Gale thought as he pushed the door open and stepped inside. The office was typical. Semicomfortable looking chairs, interspersed with occasional tables holding piles of magazines. People, Us, Time,
Newsweek. No copies of Out or The Advocate in sight; nothing his picture would likely be in. This place
looked way too white bread for any of the inhabitants to spend their evenings watching hot gay sex on
television so maybe he’d get lucky. He stepped up to the receptionist’s window.
“May I help you?”
“Ahh, yes, my name is Harold. I have an appointment with....”, he glanced at the note he’d stuffed in his pocket
to be sure he got the name right. “Kathleen Prescott.”
“Last name, sir?”
“Umm, Harold is my last name. First name is Gale.” He sighed. That used to happen all the time. At least it
meant he hadn’t been recognized. If he was fortunate, it would stay that way.
“Sorry, Mr. Harold. Would you please take a seat? Kathleen will be with you shortly. She’s just finishing up a
session.”
“Thank you.” He sat down and began idly thumbing through a copy of Newsweek, paying it little attention, but
it beat staring off into space. There was a 30-something woman sitting a couple of chairs to his left and he
could feel her eyes on him. He kept his head down and pretended to read. It was quiet and after a few minutes
the receptionist’s voice startled him.
“Mr. Harold? Kathleen will see you now. Down this corridor, first door on your right.”
He thanked her and headed in the direction she’d indicated. The sign on the first door on his right read
“Kathleen Prescott, Ph.D., Family and Individual Counseling.” He knocked and heard a voice inviting him to
enter.
After the introductory formalities and offers of tea or bottled water were out of the way, Gale took a deep breath
and started talking. At first it was pretty easy. Then it got a whole lot harder.
****************************
Gale put his feet up on the dashboard of his truck. He was sitting in the passenger’s seat, parked in the parking
lot across the street from his new therapist’s office, smoking a cigarette. He’d just spent the better part of 90
minutes spilling his guts to a total stranger and he felt drained, and vaguely distressed. Things he definitely
didn’t like to talk about surfaced and had left him with a headache forming just behind his eyes. He was only
mildly surprised to realize that he got a headache just about every time he talked about his mother.
Because, just as he knew they would, his parents ended up right in the middle of the discussion. Right in the
middle of everything.
******************************
When Gale was about 16 years old he stopped going to church. It sounds simple but it was anything but. One
Sunday morning as the rest of the family was getting ready to make their almost daily pilgrimage to the local
Pentecostal church, Gale decided he’d had enough and announced he wasn’t going. In fact, he announced that
he wasn’t ever going again. He’d normally been a compliant, fairly well behaved boy who feared his father’s
anger enough to stay that way, but as he grew older all that started to change. He was very intelligent,
possessing a quick and analytical mind that just wasn’t buying the dogma the Pentecostal church, and his
mother, spewed forth. It all sounded like a really bad fairy tale to him and directly contradicted many things
that he believed in his heart to be the truth. Finally going along to keep the peace was no longer an option for
him, and it all came to a head that Sunday morning. His parents, particularly his mother, railed at him endlessly
about his ‘crisis of faith’ but they only succeeded in changing his mind about one thing: the existence of Hell.
He no longer doubted it was real because he found himself living in it for the next three years.
Many times it seemed to him like it almost wasn’t worth the fight, that he should just go back to pretending to
be a good and devout little boy until he could get out of his parent’s house and off to college. At least it would
end the lectures and the grounding and the endless hours upon hours of out-loud bible reading that his mother
subjected him to. But there was some stubborn, independent streak inside him that just wouldn’t let him do it.
And one day, when things had gotten particularly bad, he’d ended up, of all places, in a chair at the local tattoo
parlor. After much heated discussion, he got the guy to tattoo the word “resist” in bluish-green ink on the
inside of the middle finger of his right hand. It was a symbolic gesture on his part -- his way of giving the
finger to everything he didn’t believe in and had no room for in his life. And it was also a reminder to stay true
to himself at the same time, to resist all efforts to change him, to turn him into something he wasn’t. It was
weeks before either of his parents noticed it, tucked between his fingers the way it was. He refused to explain it
to them, and to this day, he refused to explain it to anyone -- not even Randy. But it stood as a reminder, to
follow his own path, to live his own life, to not give in. To resist.
So after three years of hell, Gale went off to college and found out that hell had many levels; so far he’d only
seen the first two or three. In college, he’d met Christopher Frost and lost his virginity. He also lost his tuition
money, his car, and the roof over his head when he took his new found love home to meet the family. Looking
back on it, he now realized that Christopher was just one more raised middle finger directed at his parents,
tattooed or otherwise. Taking him home to ‘meet the folks’ was not only a full-on manifestation of his
rebellion, it was also a landmark in the Dumb Stunts Hall of Fame. But back then it had felt like heady, fullbodied freedom at a time when he’d felt free enough to do almost anything.
It took almost eight years and his father’s stroke before the first tentative steps toward reconciliation between
parents and son were been taken. Gale had just moved to LA and begun his acting career. He wouldn’t have
called it a ‘career’ back then, but it was turning into one, it seemed. He didn’t have two cents to rub together,
and he picked up a few walk-on gigs, commercials, and small parts in bad plays to keep the bill collectors and
the repo-man at bay. He’d only been there for a month when the call came. As luck would have it, he was
dating a woman at the time. Her name was Connie Preston and they’d met in drama class. She, like Gale, was
a budding actor with dreams of making a career in the theater. He called her nearly every day while he was in
Atlanta at his father’s bedside, more out of boredom than anything else. His mother, however, blissfully
proclaimed his recovery from homosexuality to be the work of God, and begged him to go to church with her.
She crowed that, because he had seen the light, God would welcome him back into the fold of the faithful and
reward him by healing his father. After all, she told him, his father’s affliction was divine retribution for his
son’s sodomy and fornication. He must realize that he was the cause of his father’s suffering and pain. God
had punished their family for Gale’s evil ways, but that was all over now. God was merciful, and would
forgive, if you lived a good and Christian life.
Gale listened to her, as he sat quietly in the chair in his father’s hospital room. Staring intently at the tattoo on
his right middle finger, and realized for the first time in his life that his mother was probably insane. He
squeezed his eyes tightly shut and the word “resist” shimmered brightly on the insides of his closed eyelids.
After about three weeks, Gale’s father’s condition improved enough so that he was transferred to a rehab
facility back in Decatur, and Gale, his duty done, immediately took the opportunity to go back to LA. He told
his mother he missed Connie, that he had a construction job waiting for him back in Los Angeles, and was
thinking about going back to college. None of it was true. What he really wanted was to get laid, get stoned,
and go back to his acting class. What he wanted more than anything, though, was to get the fuck out of
Georgia.
His first day back in LA he got laid and he got stoned, and while he was sleeping off that first glorious hangover, his mother called. Georgia suddenly didn’t feel so far away anymore. She didn’t say much of anything
really. She talked about his father’s progress in rehab, prayed for a while, asked him about Connie and his new
job, and told him again how happy they were that he’d rejected sin and seen the evil of his wicked ways. He
listened half-heartedly, letting her believe whatever she wanted, and when she was through, she hung up. She
called faithfully, every week. His mother was nothing if not faithful.
Once a year, usually at Christmas time, he hauled himself reluctantly back to Decatur, generally on a
Greyhound bus. While there, he made up a few more innocuous lies about his life to pacify his parents, and
then fled back to the coast as fast as possible. Connie hung around in his mother’s fertile imagination for much
longer than she did in Gale’s life. Two Decembers later, Gale’s mother was still asking what to send Connie for
Christmas. By then Gale was living with Eric but telling his mother that Eric would love a new sweater for
Christmas didn’t seem like a particularly good idea. Truthfully it didn’t really matter. He knew his parents
would never come to LA and subject themselves to it’s heathen and wicked ways, and the phantom Connie,
after all, couldn’t leave her family at Christmas time, now could she? So it all worked just dandy for a while. In
other words, Gale resisted, and life was pretty good.
That is, until Brian Kinney arrived and fucked up everything.
Looking back, that moment, the moment of his alter ego’s arrival, heralded the very best time of his life
superimposed on the absolute worst. He was actually an actor, at last, with a great part in a ground-breaking
show that was sure to set the country on its collective ear, if not its ass. And the money they’d offered him
made him giddy. In relation to somebody like Harrison Ford, maybe it was a mere pittance, but to Gale it
seemed like a fortune. He could pay the rent; he could make his truck payment. Hell, he could even afford
cable so he could watch himself on TV. And then there was Randy, arguably the best thing of all. But while all
this wonderful stuff was happening, Gale found himself simultaneously exploring what were probably the fifth
and sixth circles of hell when it came time to present his new-found good fortune to his parents.
Gale was naive, no doubt about it. At least as far as show business was concerned, he sure started out that way.
At first he figured he didn’t really have to tell his family anything, and he didn’t. The show was filming in
Canada, a good long way from Decatur, and it probably wouldn’t run for more than 6 or 8 weeks. They all
figured that even though Showtime had bought 22 episodes, it would be a miracle if even the first 10 ever saw
the light of day. It would probably be on and gone before his parents ever got wind of it. He never bothered to
consider what he’d do if the thing was a hit. When he realized he was going to end up in magazines across
America talking about doing nude sex scenes with other men, reality impacted quickly and he knew the
proverbial shit was inevitably going to hit the legendary fan.
The only thing he could think to do was to haul his sorry ass to Decatur and at least warn them in person. It
would be just his luck that the entire congregation down at the Liberty Hall House of God would be tuned in
while he explained to Barbara Walters or Larry King that, no, pretending to have sex with another man and
spending at least fifty percent of his on-screen time on the show stark fucking naked didn’t feel strange at all.
At least this time he got to make the trip to Atlanta by plane. He spent the entire flight trying to figure out why
he didn’t just stay in Canada and keep his fucking mouth shut.
Predictably, the visit didn’t go well.
********************************
On the flight back to Toronto, Gale tried to make sense of what had happened. Why, at the moment of truth,
when he should have told them exactly who and what he was, did he just back down and once again let them
believe what they wanted? Was it the look in his mother’s eyes? Was it the knowledge that she was much
more interested in her fantasy of him than in his reality? Was it his father’s halting, limping walk and slightly
drooping left eyelid? Was it the result of years of exposure to the religious dogma that dominated his parent’s
every thought and deed? Was it just because he didn’t want to rock the fucking boat? Whatever the reason,
when his mother had gone shrieking through the house in search of her bible, convinced that her son had once
again descended into the pits of hell and moral and physical violation, he’d just agreed with her when she’d
begged him to tell her that he really wasn’t “that way” again. It was bad enough that she accused him of being
nothing more than a whore for making porn films; he just couldn’t deal with the abuse a declaration of his own
personal sexual proclivities would surely bring. And of course, she wanted to know how Connie reacted to all
of it. At least he had balls enough to tell her Connie was gone, but then she made the assumption that “a good
Christian and God-fearing girl like Connie” would never stay with a man who indulged in such perversion and
actually allowed people to show him doing it on television. He was glad he didn’t have to try to explain away
Eric. Or Paul and Zak who had come after him.
His father just sat still in stony silence through the entire debacle, making eye contact with neither of them.
Gale told them that he’d signed a contract to do the show, that it was a legitimate acting gig and he was going to
be making good money, and that other projects would be developed for him, and that it was just a job and had
nothing to do with his own personal behavior. Like Brian Kinney always said, it wasn’t a lie if they made you.
He also told them that the show probably wasn’t going to be shown in the states. He winced a little at that,
knowing full well that it already was, but his parents didn’t have a TV and he figured he could tell them he’d
made a mistake by telephone, when he was safely back in another country. It wasn’t a lie if they made you.
It didn’t seem to matter, though; nothing he said beyond his initial statement of “I’ve got a part playing a gay
man on a television show and there’s some sex and nudity involved” seemed to make any impression. His
mother was already packing his bags for the next shuttle to hell; he could see it in her eyes. When Gale left,
things weren’t back to the complete break that had existed after he brought Chris home to meet Mom and Dad,
but it wasn’t far off either. He’d said goodbye when he’d left at dinnertime to go back to his hotel and pack for
his 8 p.m. flight. No one answered him as he shut the door behind him.
When he got back to Toronto his mother had left a message on his answering machine to let him know that his
father was back in the hospital with chest pains. He wasn’t sure if she’d called because she thought he’d be
concerned, or because she wanted him to feel guilty. She told him not to worry about coming back. She’d call
him the next day and let him know how his father was doing. The following day there was another message.
Thankfully, it turned out to be nothing serious. Gale was relieved. The thought of going back to Georgia any
time soon made him nauseas.
Things took on a veneer of calm after that, but it was only the calm of issues undealt with. He called his parents
every couple of months, always talking briefly to his mother, never to his father. No mention was ever made of
“Queer as Folk”. If she ever saw the show, or heard anything about it, she never let on. In fact if anyone had
listened in on their conversations, they would have sworn she had no idea her son was even an actor, let alone
one on a successful series. No questions about Gale’s life were ever asked, and he volunteered nothing. The
conversations consisted of descriptions of church suppers, the minister’s daughter’s work as a missionary in
Central America, trivialities about family members, and tiffs with neighbors that Gale had never met. He
stopped going to Georgia for Christmas and that was never mentioned either. He resisted, and while the break
wasn’t complete, the yawning chasm grew.
But no matter how wide it got, he couldn’t seem to put aside the ‘straight’ persona he’d adopted for his parents,
and ultimately it just carried over into his professional life of its own volition. At first, he adopted avoidance of
the entire issue. He wanted the character to stand on his own, he said, unaffected by his own sexuality. He was
particularly proud of that one, and it worked for quite a while. That one kept everyone at bay – his family, the
guy he was seeing, even his new agent, Suzanne, who insisted that he needed to be straight if he wanted to work
in Hollywood. “Remember Rock Hudson,” she’d say sagely, wagging her finger in Gale’s general direction.
He wisely kept his opinion of that remark to himself, but he couldn’t shake the sense of truth in her advice. So,
for vague reasons that he avoided examining too closely, The Myth of Gale Harold’s Straightness was
perpetuated. He became a master at being non-committal and while that made no one happy, least of all Gale, it
didn’t piss anyone off either, and he decided he could live with that. As far as he could tell, Randy apparently
could, too. So, why his sudden and abrupt claim to be straight? No matter how much he examined it, he had no
answer. He had no idea why he did it.
At the end of it all, there he sat in his truck, in his new therapist’s office parking lot, smoking a cigarette that he
desperately wished was a joint, and trying to deal with the fact that he was a bisexual man in love with a man,
and who, at least passively anyway, was trying to pass for straight and totally fucking up his own life in the
process. The last thing the therapist had asked him before concluding their first session was whether he had any
thoughts about why he was so reluctant to accept his own bisexuality, acknowledge his feelings for Randy and
just expect everyone else to deal with it. He didn’t respond, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know the answer,
and he guessed he’d known it all along. He didn’t do any of those things because he wanted his parents to love
him. And if they didn’t love him, he at least didn’t want them to hate him. Sitting there alone in his truck, he
finally realized that he hadn’t resisted anything at all.
Gale went to see the therapist four more times, but when he realized that he wasn’t going to figure out anything
he didn’t already know he stopped going. What he needed was a backbone, and talented as she may be,
Kathleen Prescott, Ph.D. wasn’t going to be able to help him find one. That was something he was going to
have to grow on his own. And as fate would have it, the person with the seeds and the fertilizer was someone
he never would have expected.
Chapter Four
“So, do you want to come?”
“I always want to come.”
“Gale, be serious.”
“Look, thanks for the invitation, but the holidays are for families. I don’t need to be tagging along.”
“You’re being ridiculous. My parents invited you. I’m inviting you. How is that ‘tagging along’?”
“I’d feel like I was intruding.”
“You were invited. You’re only intruding if you just show up. So what is it? Do you have somewhere else to
be?”
Gale snorted. “You know the answer to that.”
“Yep, which is why you have no excuse. You’re coming with me.”
“Look I can live just fine without being ‘Poor Lonesome Gale’ who gets dragged off to Randy’s mommy and
daddy’s house because he doesn’t have anyone to spend Christmas with.”
“Oh, fuck you, Gale, do you think that’s what this is? The Yuletide equivalent of a pity fuck?”
“Isn’t it?”
Randy sat down next to Gale on the sofa with a huff and bit his earlobe. “Fuck you,” he repeated.
“In your dreams, Blondie.”
“Yeah, well I must have been dreaming last night, then, because I could swear it was your ass my dick was
buried in.”
Gale sucked in his lower lip in an attempt to keep from laughing, but it didn’t work. No matter how hard he
tried he could never hold out for very long when Randy didn’t back down.
Now that Gale was done putting up a fight, Randy leaned in and nuzzled his ear, licking this time instead of
biting. “You’re coming with me because, one,” he punctuated his first point with a kiss to Gale’s cheekbone, “I
don’t want to be away from you that long. Two,” this time punctuated with a kiss to his jaw, “I want to spend
Christmas with you. Three,” he whispered seductively as his lips moved down to Gale’s neck, “my parents
really want you to come and it would be rude to turn them down for no reason, and four,” Randy pushed Gale’s
shirt aside and gently licked his collar bone, “I want to show off my gorgeous, sexy boyfriend to all the folks
back home.”
“Mmmmmm,” Gale closed his eyes. “Well, in that case, how can I say no?” And why, he thought, can’t I ever
say no to you?
Randy bounced up with that grin on his face that Gale could never resist. “Then it’s settled. We’re leaving on
Thursday.”
“Whatever you say, Sunshine.”
“How many fucking times do I have to tell you not to call me that?”
***************************
Randy pulled the rental car into the driveway of an immaculate two story colonial in the heart of suburbia. Two
car garage, neatly clipped hedges, willow tree in the front yard – A Baby Boomer’s wet dream. Gale had met
Randy’s parents once before, when they’d attended the L.A. Queer as Folk premiere at the beginning of the
third season. They’d known that Gale and Randy were seeing each other, and were very friendly and gracious
when they’d met. Gale had been introduced to the parents of girls he’d dated in the past, but meeting his male
lover’s parents was a first for him. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but he secretly suspected he’d have
been more comfortable with polite disapproval than with their effusive warmth. He’d held up well enough until
Randy’s mother had leaned over and whispered loudly into her son’s ear, “Randy you were right, he is just
beautiful.” He kept imagining how his parents would react if he introduced them to Randy. He doubted that
commenting on his physical attributes would be part of the ensuing conversation. He was suddenly having
doubts about the wisdom of his decision to come here. Maybe he should have gone to Maine with the Harpers
for Christmas after all.
“You coming?”
“Uh, sorry. Lost in thought again.”
“Well, come on; get your ass in gear! Grab some of the stuff out of the trunk! We’re here! It’s Christmas!”
Randy opened Gale’s door and waved his arms in the air. “Let the celebrations begin!”
Gale chuckled. “Sometimes you are so gay, Randy.”
Randy pinched his ass sharply as he got out of the car. “Damned good thing for you, Big Boy. What would
you stick in your ass if I wasn’t?”
“I have no answer for that.”
“Good. Now grab that green bag. If we do this right, we’ll only have to make two trips.”
Randy’s mother met them at the doorway, clearly excited to see her son. Randy dropped the bags in the
doorway and they flung their arms around each other and literally squealed in delight.
Gale hung back and turned away, suddenly feeling out of place. He realized with some surprise, that he was
also jealous. Never in his life had his mother been even half this glad to see him. He shook his head slightly.
‘What the fuck are you,’ he admonished himself, ‘ten? Get a fucking grip. You’re 34 fucking years old and
you don’t need your mommy for a damned thing.’
“Gale? Gale?”
He looked up quickly at the sound of Randy’s voice to see Randy and his mother looking at him expectantly.
“Lost in thought again?”
“Sorry,” he huffed in embarrassment, “more like half asleep.”
“Well, wake up and come say hello to my Mom.” Randy pulled him inside and closed the door behind him.
Gale put down the suitcase he was carrying and extended his hand to Randy’s mother. “Hello, Mrs. Harrison,
it’s nice to see you again.” Instead of shaking his hand, she grasped it gently, pulling him forward into a firm
embrace.
“We’re glad you could spend Christmas with us, Gale,” she said softly against his face. After a moment she
released him and smiled up into his eyes. “Randy was a real grump last year, stuck here without you.”
Gale felt his cheeks grow warm. “Yeah, well, I missed him, too.” And it was the truth. He remembered going
back to Toronto a few days early, after spending Christmas in New York with Roy and Suzanne Harper last
year. All he’d done pretty much was sit there fiddling with the remote control and eating Chinese take-away
until Randy had come home. That memory reminded him of why he’d come to Atlanta with Randy this year
and politely turned down Roy’s invitation to go with them to Kennebec. “Anyway, thank you for inviting me.
It was very kind of you.”
She smiled maternally at him and patted his arm. “You boys get your luggage and take it upstairs. Randy, I’ve
given you two the big guest room in the back instead of squeezing you both into your old room.” She stopped
at Randy’s wide-eyed look. Gale tried to hide his smile, remembering how sure Randy had been that she would
put them in separate rooms. They had decided before they left home that they wouldn’t push it. Sylvia smiled
wryly at her son and raised an eyebrow. “Look we know you’ve been together for a couple of years now. It
seems kind of silly to put you in separate rooms, don’t you think? You’d probably just get a hotel, anyway, and
I can’t see much point in that.”
“I don’t … want to make anyone uncomfortable, Mrs. Harrison,” Gale said softly.
“You’re not going to make anyone uncomfortable, Gale, so don’t worry about it. And stop calling me Mrs.
Harrison. My name is Sylvia. Now come on and let’s get your things up to your room. You guys need some
time to unwind and get settled before dinner.”
******************************
Gale stretched out on his back on the big comfortable bed and stared at the ceiling while Randy unpacked their
bags and hung their clothes in the closet. “Tired?” he asked, shaking the wrinkles out of a shirt and putting it on
a hanger.
“Maybe a little. Felt like a long flight.”
“Wanna sleep for a little while? You probably have time for a nap before dinner.”
“Hmmmm. Only if you lay down here with me.”
Randy snickered. “Mr. Harold, are you getting funny ideas?”
“I don’t know, am I? You were so sure she was going to stick us in separate bedrooms. But she didn’t. She’s
gotta figure if we’re sleeping together we’re going to fuck at least once while we’re here.”
“Probably, but maybe we’d better not do it while she’s awake.”
“So, fine, I’ll behave. Just lay down with me for a while.” Gale was almost embarrassed to admit it, but he
hated sleeping without Randy. He ended up sleeping alone at least once a week, but he intensely disliked it. He
slept badly when he wasn’t with Randy, and was restless and awake for most of the night. He knew if Randy
didn’t lay down with him at least until he fell asleep, he’d just lay there and stare at the ceiling, no matter how
tired he was.
“Will you go to sleep if I do?”
Gale grinned wryly. “Am I that transparent?”
“Uh-huh,” Randy said gently, stretching out next to him. “I know you don’t sleep if I’m not with you.”
“And how do you know that?”
“Gale, the bags under your eyes are usually a dead give away. Now settle down and close your eyes. I want to
visit with my mom for a bit. We haven’t seen each other in months.”
Gale figured he was right about the bags under his eyes, and he pulled Randy into his arms and buried his face
in the back of his neck, inhaling deeply. That distinctive Randy-smell as well as the feeling of his warm body
curled into his own relaxed him. His breathing settled into the same regular rhythm as Randy’s and before he
realized it, he’d drifted off.
Randy always knew when Gale was deeply asleep. He felt the arm Gale had wrapped firmly around his waist
go limp and boneless, and Gale began to snore softly. He gently disengaged Gale’s arm, moving very slowly in
an effort not to disturb him, and rolled off the bed. Gale didn’t stir and Randy leaned over and pressed his lips
to Gale’s forehead, pulled the blanket from the end of the bed up over his shoulders, and quietly closed the door
behind him as he left the room.
Chapter Five
When Randy got downstairs he found his mother in the kitchen. His father still wasn’t home, the rest of the
family wasn’t due to arrive until tomorrow and Gale was sleeping soundly in their room upstairs. A perfect
opportunity for a good mother and son reunion.
“Hey, Mom.”
Sylvia Harrison turned and smiled at her son. “Hey, Honey. I thought you’d rest a little after your flight.
Where’s Gale?”
“He’s asleep. I thought I’d come down and help you with dinner. And we’d have a chance to visit at the same
time.”
She smiled and pulled him in for another hug. “Well, good. You can peel those carrots,” she said, pointing to
the bag on the counter. Randy picked up the peeler and got to work.
They made small talk for a few minutes, she inquiring about the show and his prospects for work during the
upcoming summer hiatus. He asked about family and friends, jobs and vacation plans. Finally, when they were
done peeling and chopping and marinating, Sylvia asked the question Randy knew was coming.
“So, how are you and Gale doing? Things seem fine.”
It seemed like such an innocuous statement, but they both knew it really wasn’t. There were few aspects of his
relationship with Gale that Randy hadn’t discussed with his mother over the years. He deeply valued her
insight and opinions, and frequently turned to her for comfort and advice when he was hurt, confused or just
plain in over his head.
When he and Gale had returned to Toronto and Gale had insisted on separate apartments after living together all
summer in New York, Randy had turned to his mother for advice. That in turn led to him revealing his unease
over Gale’s discomfort with his sexuality. While neither of them knew precisely why Gale was having
difficulty accepting his own homosexuality, Randy knew his mother could appreciate the struggle. Randy felt
fortunate that he had never had to endure that struggle and his mother was supportive of his determination to
live his life unencumbered by his sexual orientation. That put the Gale and Randy somewhat at odds and Randy
confided in her that while he loved Gale very deeply, Gale’s reluctance to be open about who he was and about
their relationship, even with those closest to them, was difficult for him. She’d advised patience, telling him
that Gale’s circumstances were very likely much different than his had been and he agreed with her and took
her advice. Some time had passed since then, but the problem remained.
“About the same,” he sighed. “Not much changes. One step forward, six steps back. He did ask me to move
back in with him.”
“Really? Well, that’s a step in the right direction, isn’t it?”
“It should be, but I really don’t trust his reasons.”
“Why not?”
“Well, I think emotionally he wants it, but I don’t think he’s really prepared for what it’s going to mean from a
practical standpoint. There’s no way we could keep that quiet. Maybe we could keep it out of the press, but our
friends and families would have to know it. I mean, no one really buys his straight act anyway, even if he
thinks they do. Well, maybe his family does, but nobody else. It wouldn’t change anything, really, except for
whatever is going on with his family, but he would think it did. Does that make any sense?”
“Yes, it does. He thinks he’s hiding something but he’s really only hiding it from himself. Everybody else has
figured it out already. Except for Gale, of course.”
Randy grinned ruefully. “Yeah, that’s about it.” He looked at his mother pensively. “It’s the whole family
thing that worries me the most. Do you know he hasn’t been to see his family in at least four years? I know
that’s got something to do with it, but I’m not sure what.”
“Didn’t you tell me they’re in Decatur?”
“Yep. Just outside the city. This is probably the closest he’s been to them since the show first went on the air.”
“Is he going to go see them?”
“Not that I know of. He hardly ever even mentions them.”
“What do you know about them?”
“Nothing, really.” He shook his head, thinking. “I mean, he makes a snarky remark every once in a while, so a
little information gets out there, but not much. I know they’re very involved in some heavy duty, industrial
strength, fundamentalist Christianity thing.”
Sylvia frowned. “That’s true of more than half the population in this part of the country. If it weren’t for your
father’s career….”
“Yeah, I know. You never would have left New Hampshire.” He grinned.
“You got that right. You know, honey, if they are that religious, and that’s the atmosphere he grew up in, it
could go a long way toward explaining his …..confusion.”
“I don’t think he believes in any of it. As a matter of fact, I know he doesn’t.”
“That may be, but the influences we experience as children often have profound effects on our attitudes in
adulthood.”
Randy smiled and hugged his mother. “And have I thanked you lately for not influencing me with any of that
crap? I mean, when I think about what some people have had to put up with from their parents…”
“We tried,” she smiled.
“You did more than try, Mom.”
“Well, I hope Gale can get by whatever his issues are. I know you feel that you can’t have a full relationship
with him as things stand now. I know that’s important to you.”
“No, I don’t feel I can because he won’t ….just let it be what it is. I can tell he wants it, too, but he just can’t
seem to let go of whatever is holding him back. And as long as he’s holding back, I’m probably never going to
be completely satisfied with it.”
“Are you thinking about ending it?”
“Me? No. I don’t think I could. But I’m afraid he will. Not because he doesn’t love me because I think he
really does. I think he’ll end it because he just can’t take the emotional stress. Or because he thinks it’s hurting
me.”
“I know you love him, honey. I hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“You and me both,” he sighed. “You and me both.”
*****************************
Randy quietly opened the door and slipped into the guest room, closing the door soundlessly behind him. Gale
was curled up on the bed, still sleeping, with his back to the door. Randy sat down on the edge of the bed and
gently rubbed Gale’s shoulder.
“Hey, sleepy head. It’s dinner time.”
Gale yawned, shuddering as he stretched like a cat on the now wrinkled comforter. He rolled over on his back
and Randy rubbed his stomach instead. “What time is it?”
“Nearly six. My dad’s home and mom’s putting dinner on the table.”
“Wow. I didn’t mean to sleep so long.”
“It’s OK. You were tired. You hungry?”
Gale closed his eyes. “Yeah, I think I am.” He suddenly pulled Randy down on top of him. “But maybe not
for dinner,” he smirked.
Randy grinned and braced his hands against Gale’s chest and gave a half-hearted push. “I’m not on the menu.”
“Playing hard to get, huh? Maybe you’re on the dessert menu.” Gale nuzzled Randy’s ear and gently bit the
muscle at the base of his neck. He smiled when Randy gasped softly at the sensation. That was one of his
sweet spots and it was a card Gale often played when he woke up horny. He cupped Randy’s ass in his hand,
kneading the firm rounded cheek and licked Randy’s neck and swirled his tongue around the inside of his ear.
“Mmmmm….Gale…..we can’t stay up here and fuck. My mother made dinner. She’s been cooking
for….oh!” Gale rolled Randy over on his back and pushed his shirt up, starting a relentlessly gentle assault on
his left nipple, sucking it firmly between his lips and teasing it with his tongue until it stiffened and Gale could
feel goosebumps break out down Randy’s torso. “Gale,” he breathed and Gale grinned, knowing he wasn’t
playing fair. He kissed Randy firmly and then turned him loose.
“Don’t worry, Sunshine, I won’t make you miss your Mom’s dinner the first night we’re here.”
“How many fucking times do I have to tell you not to call me that?” Randy grumbled, bouncing off the bed,
and Gale grinned at him as he straightened his clothes. “But your ass is mine after everybody goes to bed.”
“It always is….Sunshine.”
*****************************
Dinner was a pleasant affair…certainly more relaxed and boisterous than dinner at his own family’s home had
ever been. Randy and his mother kept up a constant banter throughout the meal and Gale was content to just
enjoy their interaction, as was Randy’s father, apparently. Gale couldn’t quite figure him out, but he was as
comfortable with his silence as he was uncomfortable with his own father’s lack of conversation. Randy’s
father never gave the impression of being uninterested or unengaged. He didn’t act like he wanted desperately
to be somewhere else. He just acted like a man who was content with his surroundings even if at the moment
he only chose to observe them. Gale decided he needed to learn how to do that.
“Gale? Gale?”
“Um, sorry…what did you say?”
“Mom wants to know if you’d like coffee. What planet are you orbiting?”
Gale blushed. “Not this one I guess. Ah, coffee would be nice, thanks, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“No trouble,” she smiled, patting his arm. “It’s already brewed. I’ll be right back.” She got up, leaving the
three men at the table in a companionable silence.
“So how much longer are you guys stuck in The Great White North?”
Randy grinned at his father. “A while. We just started filming in early September. We’ll probably be working
until at least March.”
Randy’s father turned to Gale. “Randy tells me next year is probably the last season.”
“Yeah, it’s hard to believe we’ve been doing this for four years. Seems like just yesterday when I walked in
thru that door for the first time.”
“And promptly took off all your clothes,” Randy guffawed.
Gale glanced at Randy’s father, imagining what his own father’s reaction would be to a remark like that, but
Randy’s father just chuckled and shook his head, looking affectionately at his son. “And turned you upside
down in the process, apparently.”
Gale could feel his face turn hot just as Randy’s mother walked back into the room with his coffee. She put the
cup in front of him and scowled at her son and husband. “Will you two let up? Gale’s only been here for a
couple of hours. Can’t we at least wait until tomorrow before we embarrass the heck out of him?”
“Oh, he’ll get over it, Mom. He pretends he’s shy, but he’s really not.” Randy put his arm around Gale’s
shoulder and nuzzled his cheek. Gale knew Randy felt him flinch slightly at the contact, and he gently pulled
away and mumbled an excuse under his breath about needing a cigarette and bolted for the door.
Randy’s father looked slightly chagrined. “I’m sorry Randy, I was just teasing. Did I say something that upset
him?”
“I really don’t know,” he replied, and started to follow Gale out the door. “Maybe I’ll just make sure he’s OK.”
His mother placed a restraining hand on his arm and looked after Gale thoughtfully. “Just leave him be for a
few minutes. Why don’t you and your Dad go in the living room and I’ll bring more coffee. You guys can
spend a little time catching up.”
“What are you going to do, Mom?”
“Why, honey, whatever do you mean?”
Randy rolled his eyes. “Mom….”
“Don’t worry.” She kissed his cheek. “It’s just that maybe you telling him it’s OK just isn’t enough. If you
know what I mean.”
Randy studied his mother for a moment and then shrugged in capitulation. “What the heck. He obviously can’t
hear me when I say it.”
She smiled and took a sweater from a hook on the wall near the door. "Be back in a while."
Chapter Six
Sylvia Harrison pulled her sweater closed against the November chill and folded her arms across her chest as
she slowly walked down the sidewalk looking for her missing houseguest. She knew her son was deeply in love
with his co-star and she was a little worried about that. She sensed the first time she’d met Gale that no matter
how much he might love Randy, the relationship troubled him on some level, and she knew that eventually his
unease would have an effect on her son. Randy’s revelations about Gale’s background had been telling and
she’d met enough parents of gay children since Randy had come out to surmise that Gale’s problems were
probably parental in origin, despite the fact that he was 35 years old. Just then she looked up and saw the
subject of her musings ambling towards her.
“Hi, Gale.”
He stopped, looking at her quizically for a moment, and she could tell he was wondering why she’d followed
him outside.
“Feel like taking a stroll around the neighborhood with me?”
Gale stared down at his feet, and Sylvia felt a momentary pang of guilt. She could tell he felt trapped, but he
accepted his fate gracefully. “Sure, why not? It’s a nice night,” he answered softly.
Sylvia fell into step next to him as they headed back the way he’d just come. After a few moments of silence
she decided to take the plunge. “So, are you planning to see your family while you’re here in Atlanta, Gale?”
She watched him hunch his shoulders, hang his head and push his hands into the pockets of his jeans…his body
language was practically shouting self-protection. “I, ah, hadn’t thought about it.” Sylvia didn’t respond and just
waited for him to continue. “We, um, aren’t very close.”
“That’s a shame.”
“Yeah, well, we don’t have much in common.”
“Do they know you’re gay?” Gale turned to look at her intently. “I’m sorry. That was a personal question. I
should mind my own business.”
Gale studied her for a moment and finally sighed. “They…don’t know much about me.”
“They probably know more about you than you think.”
“I sure hope not,” he muttered under his breath. “Besides, how could they know something about me that I
don’t even know myself.” He stopped walking suddenly and just stared ahead into the darkness, his discomfort
palpable. “Look, um, Randy is probably wondering where we are. We should probably go back,” he said
hurriedly. “Besides, he wanted to…”
“Gale”. For the second or third time since they’d arrived that afternoon, she put her hand warmly on Gale’s arm.
“You’re going to have to talk to somebody eventually.”
“Talk about what?”
“Gale Harold, I imagine.”
“Oh, I suppose Randy has been telling you all kinds of stories about poor fucked up, conflicted Gale who won’t
get his fucking ass out of the closet,” he huffed, walking faster and jamming his hands deeper into his pockets.
Sylvia couldn’t help but smile a little, but only because he wasn’t looking at her face. “Yeah, something like
that. I think he added chicken-shit and commitment phobic in there, too, now that I think about it.”
“Ha,” he barked. “That sounds like your son.” He shook his head.
“Yes, it does. So, the offer stands, if you’d like somebody to talk to. I’ll offer a confidential ear...and shoulder…
if you need it.” Gale eyed her warily, but didn’t respond. “Even if you don’t take me up on it now, that’s OK,”
she continued. “I’ll be around if you change your mind.” She started walking again, slowly, waiting for him to
catch up.
“What do you want me to talk about?”
She smiled. “It’s not supposed to work like that. We’re supposed to talk about what you want to talk about.”
“Anything I want to talk about?”
“Uh-huh.”
He thought a moment. “You love your son.”
“Yes, very much.”
“You love him even if he’s gay.”
“Yes, but I wouldn’t put it quite that way.”
Gale turned toward her. “How would you put it?”
“Well, that sounds like I love him in spite of the fact that he’s gay. It’s really not like that. The fact that he’s gay
doesn’t enter into it. I love my son. I’d love him no matter what.”
Gale grinned ruefully and shook his head. “I keep telling him he’s a lucky little bastard.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, anybody who has someone’s unconditional love is pretty lucky.”
“How about you, Gale? Do you have anybody’s unconditional love?”
Gale laughed quietly. “Yeah...Randy’s.”
“You’re probably closer to the truth than you think.”
“I know,” Gale whispered, all hint of laughter now gone.
Sylvia linked her arm thru Gale’s as they turned onto yet another well manicured suburban street. “It’s hard on
him, you know.”
“What?”
“Your … indecision.”
“That’s a delicate way to put it. I think Randy was a little closer to the truth. Chicken-shit and commitment
phobic.”
“Why do you suppose that is?”
Gale lit another cigarette. “Oh, there’s a whole list of stereotypical reasons I guess. What I can’t explain is why
I care about any of them.”
“Everyone cares whether their parents love them or not, Gale. There isn’t anything stereotypical about that.”
“What makes you think it’s their fault?”
“Because I’m a parent myself. We’re responsible for everything.” Gale remained silent so she continued. “Do
they know?”
“Know about what? About Randy?”
“No, Gale. Do they know about you.”
He laughed, but there was little humour in it. “How the hell could they? I don’t even know about me.”
“Yes, you do. It’s not about not knowing. It’s about not accepting. It’s about not sitting easily with it.”
Gale stopped walking and looked at her more directly that he had during the entire conversation. He seemed to
be studying her, taking her measure.
“Gale, you can’t live your life trying to make other people happy. Because you know what happens? You fail.
That is an impossible task. The only person you can make happy is yourself. And when you do that, sometimes
people just follow along and they get happy too. But if they don’t, you can’t do anything about that. No matter
who they are. You’re the only one who can live your life. Everybody else is just part of the audience.”
“Even family?”
“Oh, especially family. If people love you, they want you to be happy, and how you get that way is a secondary
issue for them. If they place their own happiness in direct opposition to yours….well, then they have another
agenda. And what you want or need is probably not part of it.”
“Yeah, like I said, he’s a lucky little bastard. There’s no doubts about your agenda.”
Sylvia chuckled softly. “No, I don’t suppose there is.”
“So you think I should get my ass out of the closet and fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke.”
She smiled and squeezed his arm. “No, Gale. What I think is that you should make yourself happy.”
He looked up and they had come full circle. They were back in front of the house. Sylvia pulled him toward the
door. “Come on, let’s go in. There’s a good old fashioned Georgia pecan pie in the kitchen and I think it’s time
we had some.”
Chapter Seven
“Do not.”
“Do, too”
“Do not.”
“Do, too!”
“Do not!”
“Yeah, just keep telling yourself that, Sunshine.” Gale pinched his ass and Randy shoved him backwards on the
bed.
“Ouch!” Randy sat down next to him on the bed. “And stop fucking calling me that!”
“Well, you can protest all you want, but the truth of the matter is that I can have you completely out of control
in under 10 minutes,” Gale smirked. They’d had pie and coffee with Randy’s parents, and then they’d both
opted to turn in, claiming to be tired from the trip from Toronto. They were both a lot more horny than tired,
however, and when they’d returned to their room, Gale’s throaty declaration that he knew exactly how to have
Randy moaning his name and begging to be fucked in 10 seconds flat led to the current claim and the gauntlet
that was about to be thrown down.
“Well, aren’t you Mr. Confident! You think you know me that well, huh?”
Gale stretched seductively, arching his back up off the mattress. “I know you better than ‘well’. I’d say I know
you….intimately.”
Randy laughed. “Can’t argue with that,” he shot back.
“I’m serious. I know how to flip all your little switches, Blondie…every single one of them. I can turn you into
a quivering, coming, drooling mess before you even know what hit you.”
Randy arched an eyebrow seductively, the challenge implicit in his eyes. “OK, stud. I’m calling you on your
bullshit. Let’s see what you got.”
Gale grinned, sat up, and pulled Randy into his lap. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he whispered into the side of
Randy’s neck as he gently slid his hands under his shirt and started rubbing his back and his chest. “But I think
you’ll be too busy moaning my name and begging me not to stop to complain too much.”
Randy smirked at him expectantly and Gale breathed into Randy’s ear while he slowly pulled his shirt up over
his head. “First, you love it when I undress you, nice and slow.” He tossed the shirt onto floor and lightly
brushed the palm of his hand over Randy’s nipples until they stiffened under his touch. “And, you’re a little
exhibitionist. You love it when you’re naked…..” He unbuttoned Randy’s jeans and slowly pulled the zipper
down “…..and I’m not.” He motioned for Randy to stand up and when he did, Gale slipped the jeans and
underwear down over his slim hips. Gale pulled him back into his lap and Randy kicked his feet free. Gale
knew Randy would get off on the feeling of his clothes against his bare skin and Randy’s erect and leaking cock
was ample evidence that it was working. Randy had once told him that he though there was something erotic
and a bit unnerving about being completely nude when the person you were with was completely dressed and
Gale was happy to indulge that little ‘kink’ whenever the opportunity presented itself.
Gale grinned; he was just getting started. Before it was over he intended to push every single one of Randy’s
sexual buttons, and he wasn’t kidding: he had each one memorized in minute detail to be lovingly unleashed at
just the right moment to achieve maximum impact..like now. “You love it when I lick you…all over,” Gale
breathed. Randy shivered as Gale slowly drew his tongue across his shoulder and across the back of his neck,
leaving a trail of spit in his wake on Randy’s skin. Gale could feel the goosebumps forming under his tongue.
“And you love it when I bite you……here.” Gale gently bit down on the muscle at the base of Randy’s neck
where it curved into his shoulder and he smiled into Randy’s skin when he felt the shudder and the soft intake
of breath that resulted. “And here….,” Gale dragged his tongue down over the shoulder blade in front of him,
then wrapped his fingers around Randy’s wrist and raised his arm up slightly, and away from his body. He
sucked at the tender skin over Randy’s ribs and once again bit him lightly. “And here.” Gale raised the slender
arm higher and ducked his head underneath so Randy’s arm was wrapped loosely around his neck. He dipped
his head lower and teased Randy’s left nipple with his tongue, and then bit gently, feeling it harden against his
lips.
“And you love it,” Gale murmured, “when I run my fingers thru your hair.” He would never let on, but he had
really disliked the buzz cut “Justin” had ended up with last season. It might have worked for Justin, but on his
Randy it looked like shit and Gale was glad it had grown out again into that shaggy art student look he loved.
Randy arched his neck, pushing back against the hand sensuously massaging his scalp. “And I love your hair,”
Gale whispered. “All of it.” With his other hand, he gently massaged Randy’s stomach, his fingers dipping
lower to tease the honey colored thatch between his legs.
“And you love it when I touch you…..all over.” Gale brushed his hands down over Randy’s back and chest, just
barely making contact with his skin. Randy leaned his head back, lips parted, and closed his eyes. Gale grasped
his upper arms and squeezed lightly. “Turn around, so you’re sitting with your back to me,” he said softly,
kissing Randy’s neck as he maneuvered him into position. Randy let Gale move him, turning so he was sitting
with his back against Gale’s chest, rubbing his bare skin against Gale’s soft chambray work shirt. “Lay back,”
Gale whispered, and Randy leaned back, resting his head against Gale’s shoulder. Gale nuzzled Randy’s cheek
and slowly drew his hand down over Randy’s belly, finally wrapping his fingers firmly around the cock he
knew better than his own. He gave it a couple of firm tugs, eliciting a low moan from its owner. Sitting in
Gale’s lap backwards, Randy wrapped his legs around Gale’s, entwining their ankles together. Gale spread his
legs apart, pulling Randy’s apart with them, and he reached down and cupped Randy’s sac in the palm of his
hand. He slowly stroked Randy’s thigh with the other hand and nuzzled his ear. “And you really love it when I
do this….” Gale quickly flipped a startled Randy on his back on the bed and pinned his wrists over his head.
Randy laughed.
“Is this a seduction scene or a wrestling match?”
“Ahhh, the best seductions always require a little wrestling don’t you think?’
“Mmmmm”, Randy purred into Gale’s ear. “I love it when you pin me to the mat.”
Gale grinned. “Then you’ll really like this.” He started to lick his way down over Randy’s stomach, gently
sucking on his skin as he went, leaving small reddened areas behind.
Gale had had his share of lovers in his day – mostly men, and a few women -- but he couldn’t remember any of
them tasting and smelling as good as Randy. Gale buried his nose in Randy’s soft pubes and breathed in that
unique musky scent that was so intertwined with Randy and sex in his mind that it always made him instantly
hard. He licked Randy’s cock from base to tip and then took the head into his mouth, sucking on that sensitive
spot on the underside that always drove Randy crazy. When he pulled Randy’s entire cock into his mouth and
started sucking him off in earnest, he felt Randy wind his fingers in his hair and could hear him softly
murmuring, the way he always did when he was deeply aroused. He couldn’t hear what Randy was saying, but
he had at other times and he knew it was probably his name softly repeated over and over again. Something else
he’d never told Randy was how much all of the little sounds he made during sex turned him on. The little sighs,
the soft grunts and gasps of pleasure, the breathy whisper of his name – they all went straight to Gale’s dick.
Sometimes he got hard just remembering the sounds Randy made when he came. Sometimes he thought he
could come just listening to him. But he’d never tell him – Gale was afraid that if he did Randy would get selfconscious and stop. And Gale never wanted him to stop.
Between Randy’s cock in his mouth, and the sound of Randy’s voice in his ears, Gale was so lost in the moment
that it took him a minute to realize Randy was tugging on his hair trying to get his attention. He felt Randy
shudder at the loss of contact when Gale let his dick slide out of his mouth, and he wrapped his hands around it
and gave it a gentle squeeze, holding on for a moment, hoping to soothe him until they got back to business.
Randy apparently had other ideas, though. “I don’t want to come like this,” he whispered, tugging on Gale’s
hair again.
“What’s the matter, baby?” ‘Baby’ was one of Gale’s few concessions when it came to endearments. He never
indulged in random “sweeties” or “honeys”, and beyond the occasional “Sunshine” or “Blondie” because he
knew it drove Randy nuts, he almost never called Randy anything other than “Randy”, except when they were
in bed. There, and only there, Randy often became “Baby”. The first time Gale had ever called him that, after
the third or fourth time they’d made love, the twinkle in Randy’s eye had been unmistakable. He’d never admit
it, but Gale knew he loved it.
“Nothing is the matter,” Randy sighed. “I just want to come with you inside me.”
Gale smiled and leaned up for a kiss. “I thought you said my blow job technique was improving,” he teased.
Randy gave him a playful swat. “There’s nothing wrong with your damn technique. I…..just need to feel
connected to you, that’s all.”
Gale stroked Randy’s face and slowly licked his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. He stood up, quickly
stripped off his clothes and retrieved the small tube of lube and a condom from the stash he’d left in the
nightstand drawer when they were unpacking. He ripped opened the little foil package and then stopped, staring
at the condom in the palm of his hand. He looked down at Randy who stared back at him quizzically. He didn’t
say anything -- he simply reached down and smoothed the condom over Randy’s cock. “You drive,” he
whispered.
Randy looked back at him with those impossibly blue eyes. “Are you sure,” he said slowly?
“Shhhhh.” Gale put his index finger against Randy’s lips. “Yes, I’m sure.” Gale smiled as Randy leaned over
and kissed him. No matter how many times they did this, Gale knew Randy never took it for granted. They’d
never discussed it, but Gale knew Randy understood the act had some significance for him. He’d been with a
number of men before Randy, but had rarely bottomed with any of them. He had never been quite certain why,
beyond a vague sense of vulnerability that he hadn’t cared much for. It wasn’t the pain, though there was some
of that, and even he had to admit it didn’t last long. And it wasn’t what he thought of wryly as the ‘hygenic’
drawbacks of the act, either. He had just always had a hard time putting himself in that place, no matter how
much he sometimes thought he wanted to. The therapist he’d gone to see a few times had suggested that his
reluctance had it roots in his lack of acceptance of his sexuality. He’d told her he thought she was full of shit,
but he secretly thought she was on to something. It felt to him like accepting someone else into his body was
also accepting a whole lot of other things he didn’t feel quite ready for. But somehow with Randy, that was all
different. He stretched out on the bed on his stomach, folded his arms under his head and surrendered his body
to his lover.
Randy didn’t move for several seconds, and just sat looking at Gale. He reached out and gently stroked Gale’s
back, drawing his hand down over his hip and finally his ass. “You know,” he whispered, “I generally don’t
envy Justin much, but right now I’d give a lot for his artistic ability.”
Gale turned just in time to see the smile form on Randy’s lips. He grinned back. “Are you going to sit there and
admire me or am I going to get fucked some time tonight?”
Randy’s smile broke in to a grin. “Oh, Fucking…definitely fucking.” He squirted the lube on his fingers and
began the familiar stretching and lubricating ritual that had become so much a part of their foreplay. Gale
sighed and closed his eyes when Randy’s fingers gently slid inside him. Fuck, he wanted this; from Randy, he
always wanted this. He felt Randy rubbing his back as he continued to stretch him and found himself pushing
back against the fingers in his ass without thinking about it. He heard Randy softly chuckle behind him.
“Ready?”
“Ummm.” Gale felt the bed shift as Randy stretched out on top of him, and felt the warm, blunt pressure of
Randy’s cock pushing against his ass. He pushed back and felt Randy slide part way in. That was all it took; he
started pushing back harder, trying to draw Randy in all the way.
Randy gripped his hip, holding him still. “Easy….,” he murmured. “Not too fast.” Gale forced himself to be still
and Randy slowly eased his way in until finally, Gale felt Randy’s balls gently nudge up against his own. Now
it was his turn to reach back and hold Randy still.
“You okay?”
Gale laughed softly. “Yeah, just….hold still a minute or this is gonna be over before it starts.”
Randy smiled and buried his face in Gale’s shoulder, gently stroking his hip. After a moment, Gale sighed and
reached back to gently slap Randy’s ass. Randy got the message, and drew out nearly all the way, then thrust
back in swiftly, hitting Gale’s sweet spot on the way in. After that, there was no holding back for either one of
them. Randy maintained a steady pace as Gale clutched the sheet in his fists and thrust back, giving as good as
he was getting. And if he could have formed a coherent thought at that moment, Gale would have said he was
getting it pretty good. Thinking wasn’t part of the deal, however; this was all about feeling, all about Randy,
and Gale could have sworn that, at the end, he levitated off the bed.
When the end came for both of them, they were so far beyond thought that they forgot where they were. Down
the hall, Sylvia Harrison’s eyes snapped open at the echo of her son’s name shouted in the darkness.
Chapter Eight
Gale awoke to the sun shining brightly in his face. Randy was still asleep next to him. As he always did at these
times, he settled in to quietly watch Randy peacefully slumber next to him. Even though they had known each
other for a number of years, the young man’s beauty was somehow always a surprise to him…the soft, bright
blonde hair, the long, thick eyelashes, the smooth, fair, baby-soft skin. He slid his arm around Randy’s waist
and pulled him close, kissing his shoulder.
He couldn’t remember it clearly, but he’d had a dream, about Randy. All he could remember of the dream was
Randy walking away from him, and Sylvia Harrington’s voice in his head saying “Gale, what I think is that you
should make yourself happy.” He couldn’t remember any more, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out
what it meant. He sighed, pulling Randy closer and nuzzling his ear. ‘This,’ he thought, ‘this is what makes me
happy.’ Before he got beyond that thought, he felt Randy stir in his arms.
“You awake?”
“Mmmmmm.” Randy’s voice was still thick with sleep. “You?”
“I asked you first. Is that coffee I smell?” Gale slowly stroked Randy’s chest until Randy wove their fingers
together and pulled their hands out from under the covers to kiss the inside of Gale’s wrist.
“Yeah, Mom must be up. What did you two talk about on your little stroll through the neighborhood last night?”
“What makes you think we talked about anything?” Gale smirked.
“Because my mother had that conversational look on her face when she went out the door. I know that look.”
Gale stroked Randy’s bare flank and kissed his neck. He couldn’t keep his hands – or his mouth – off Randy
when they were curled up in bed together like this. “We talked about a lot of things.”
“You talked about me.”
“You think so, huh? Well, yeah, we did. But mostly we talked about me.”
Randy squeezed Gale’s hand. “That sounds about right. Now, let’s go get some of that coffee.”
“What, no more questions?”
Randy smiled. “Nope. That’s all I need to know.” He bounced out of bed, grabbing Gale by the arm and tugging
him to his feet. “C’mon. Mom always makes pancakes on Thanksgiving morning.”
“Oh, good. More food,” Gale groaned. “When we start filming again next week, all of North America will get
an eyeful of your mother’s cooking the minute I take off my clothes...because it’ll be lodged firmly in my ass.”
Randy laughed as he pulled on his sweat pants. “If I didn’t know better I’d swear you were queening out over
all this damage to your girlish figure.”
Gale frowned. “Well, I will be if I keep eating like this. The pounds don’t come off as easy as they used to.”
Randy patted Gale’s bare ass. “Don’t worry. North America won’t be disappointed. Now put something on and
let’s go downstairs.”
*******************************
Sylvia was indeed making pancakes when the arrived in the kitchen. And sausages and bacon and scrambled
eggs and toast and blueberry muffins, and that’s only what was already on the table. She turned toward them
with a bright smile. “Hungry? There’s coffee.”
Gale shook his head in wonder. Normally, if he had a muffin and coffee for breakfast it was a lot. There was a
dizzying array of food on the table. If this was just breakfast, Gale thought, Thanksgiving dinner promised to be
mind-boggling. He was sure she had to have at least one extra refrigerator stashed in this house somewhere, just
to store all the leftovers.
Sylvia grabbed a couple of mugs out of the cupboard, filled them with coffee and set them on the counter.
“Randy, you can put the sugar and cream in these.” She turned back to the sausages sizzling in the skillet. “How
did you two sleep?”
Randy smirked at Gale behind his mother’s back. “Oh, we slept fine, Mom, how about you?”
“Not as well as I usually do. You know, it’s so quiet with just your father and me here now. I swear the least
little noise wakes us up these days.”
Gale, in the middle of a hearty slug of his coffee, slammed the mug down on the table and began coughing
uncontrollably. Sylvia turned to him and raised her eyebrows. “Are you okay, Gale?” she asked innocently.
Gale continued to cough while vigorously nodding his head. She grinned and returned to her cooking. “Have
something to eat, dear,” she said, winking conspiratorially at her son. “You need to keep your strength up.”
Gale shook his head and took another hit of his coffee. ‘Nope,’ he thought. ‘Not a damned thing like my
family.’
*****************************
The remainer of the holiday went without incident. The rest of Randy’s family showed up for Thanksgiving
dinner, turkey was eaten, football was watched and pie and coffee were consumed. Gale marveled at the level of
comfort he felt in the company of near complete strangers – something that he could never hope to achieve with
his own family whom he’d known all his life. When it came time to say their goodbyes, Gale got an extra long
embrace from Randy’s mother. “Come back and see us soon,” she’d whispered, and he had no doubt she meant
it.
The plane trip back to Toronto was long, but uneventful. Randy spent most of it sleeping, headphones firmly in
place, lulled into unconsciousness by some alternative band that Gale had probably never heard of. For Gale,
however, blissful oblivion was a long way away. Even though it was unspoken between them, Gale knew they
were fast approaching a juncture in their relationship that he felt ill-prepared to confront. But confront it he
must, or risk loosing the man sleeping at his side. He could feel them rushing toward it, headlong and dead on
target. He felt powerless to stop or even slow down, and all he could do was hope he did the right thing when
they reached whatever was at the end of ride. He reached out and gently folded Randy’s fingers in his own and
closed his eyes and tried to sleep. As he drifted off he could hear Randy’s mother’s voice, telling him to make
himself happy.
*********************************
"Are you almost ready, Gale?" his agent called into the dressing room. "The interview is supposed to start in 15
minutes."
"Yeah," he called out. "Just give me a minute. I'm almost done."
Suzanne DeWalt set her day planner back down on the table and sighed. Gale was clearly dragging his feet and
she knew why. He hated doing interviews and photo shoots and while she was sympathetic, she also realized
that both were necessary evils in an actor's career. They were especially trying for someone as private as Gale
and even more so, she thought wryly, for someone who had something to hide. She genuinely liked Gale, but
what she didn't like were clients with 'issues' and this one had 'issues' up the wazoo. She didn't like 'issues'. They
made her job a lot harder and 'issues' had a nasty way of turning into 'bad press'. Suzanne was not one of those
personal managers who believed any publicity was good publicity. She believed in exerting a lot more control
over events than that, and she was very interested in keeping her clients as close to a blank slate as she could get
them. Much easier for fans, casting directors and studio execs to superimpose anything they wanted on a blank
canvass. She liked her clients to have the broadest possible appeal and 'issues' always limited appeal and
narrowed the fan base, thereby limiting the marketability of the client. No, Suzanne DeWalt definitely didn't
like 'issues'.
The door opened, and her introspection was interrupted by Gale Harold's number one 'issue'. She quickly hid
her frown. "Hi, Randy."
"Hey, Suzanne. You guys almost ready?"
"Well, I've been ready for a half an hour. Mr. Harold on the other hand..."
Randy laughed. "Yeah, I know. I'll see if I can hurry him up." He disappeared into the next room.
"Gale, you're beautiful. Let's go." Randy grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward the door.
Gale gently pulled his arm out of Randy's grip. "Wait."
"For what?" Randy giggled. "Come on, this is a print interview, for crissakes. No pictures. You could show up
in a taffeta prom gown and a tiara and it wouldn't matter. What's the problem?"
Gale stared at the floor and shrugged. Something about all this felt bad to him, but he knew without opening his
mouth how silly that would sound. Fuck it, he thought. Just get it over with. "Yeah, I hate this, but I guess we'd
better just do it. Are they interviewing us together?"
"That's the plan, big guy. Now let's go and get this done. I've got plans for your mouth later that have nothing to
do with answering questions."
"Oh? Like what?" Gale smirked.
"Well, let’s see...moaning my name, begging me to fuck you, sucking my dick..."
"I get the picture, Sunshine. Let's go."
"How many times do I have to tell you to fucking stop calling me that?"
Gale grinned. Randy was right, it was just another interview. How bad could it be?
**********************
In hindsight, bad didn't even begin to cover it. Words like disastrous, horrible, awful and wretched passed
through his mind but none of them came close to describing the sick feeling he ended up with in the pit of his
stomach and the sound of the door slamming as Randy stalked out of the room.
It had started out innocuously enough. The interviewer seemed like a fairly mild mannered guy, apparently
straight, and bookish looking with glasses and a bad comb-over. His exterior, it turned out, masked the heart of
a true asshole. Gale was used to female and gay interviewers grilling him on his sexuality. Straight male
interviewers, the few of them that there were, generally honed in on the “how can you make out with another
guy like that?” angle, assuming he was as straight as he claimed to be and assuming another guy’s dick grossed
him out as much as it did them.
But this guy was functioning way outside any box Gale had ever been in. It was like being interviewed by a pit
bull. The first question out of his mouth, right after “Hello, how are you? Bob Schneider from Entertainment
This Week,” was ‘You’ve publicly claimed to be straight, is that correct?” Gale knew he was in trouble and he
knew the guy’s choice of words was no accident. If the chair had had a seatbelt, he’d have buckled up.
“Um, yes, well, I did, yes.” Gale hated it when he verbally stumbled around like that, but he was proud of
himself anyway. He’d acknowledged saying he was straight, not that he actually was straight. Semantics,
maybe, but at least he’d have something to defend himself with when Randy gave him the silent treatment after
the interview was over.
Later, Gale would remember something his father once told him. ‘Never underestimate your opponent’. He was
talking about soccer, but he could just as easily have meant the little weasel sitting in the chair across from him.
Gale was having a hard time remembering his name. Schneider, maybe? “Gale…may I call you Gale?” He
continued before Gale had time to respond. “Gale, you very reluctantly claimed to be straight, is that true? You
wouldn’t answer that question for a very long time.”
“Well, no, I, ah, wanted the character speak for himself, and not be filtered through the audience’s perception of
my sexuality. I don’t think my sexuality has anything….”
Schneider didn’t wait for him to finish. “It’s very remarkable, really, that, being straight and all, you are able to
do the sex scenes required of your character with such enthusiasm. I mean, I was certain you were gay when I
first saw the show.”
Gale winced slightly. “Um, well, ahh, thank you, I think. I guess that means I’m doing my job and that the
character is believable and working for you, and that the performance...”
“Well, really, you must be one hell of an actor. Most straight men would have a really hard time doing what
you’re expected to do. In fact, I don’t think most straight men would be able to do it.”
Gale could sense Randy stiffen in the chair next to him. Schneider had barely acknowledged him since the
interview began, beyond a perfunctory nod in his direction when Randy sat down. Gale suspected Schneider
wasn’t going to be ignoring him for much longer.
“Are you suggesting that Gale should be grossed out because he has to kiss me, Mr. Schneider?” Randy’s voice
sounded calm, but Gale could hear the anger bubbling just underneath.
“Hey, he’s a straight guy, right? Straight guys have a problem kissing other guys. If they didn’t they’d be gay,
right?” Schneider snickered at his own joke before he continued. The expression on Randy’s face didn’t change.
“Look, no offense or anything. Really, I’m just commenting on his acting skills, that he can perform those sex
scenes without batting an eye. Hell, I couldn’t do it.”
“Thank god for small favours,” Randy muttered as Schneider had returned his attention to Gale.
“So,” Schneider continued, “Gale, how do you do it? What’s your secret for making it look so real?”
Gale stared at the man in front of him and realized that he was standing at that juncture he’d thought about on
the plane coming back to Toronto. ‘Here it is,’ he thought. ‘The moment of truth.’ He opened his mouth to
answer but before he could get a word out, Suzanne, who had been standing quietly against the wall behind
them spoke up.
“Gale’s a very professional actor, Mr. Schneider, and his goal with this role was to portray the character to the
best of his ability and to follow the direction of the producers and the directors in bringing their vision of Brian
Kinney, and Queer as Folk, to the screen as honestly as possible. That’s the goal of all the actors associated with
the production, and if the characters they portray act in ways that are outside their own usual behaviors, they
view that as a professional challenge and do their best to rise to the occasion. As with all talented and dedicated
actors, their personal feelings don’t enter into it.”
Schneider turned to Gale. “Do you agree with that, Gale? It’s really just acting?”
Suzanne interjected again. “Mr. Schneider, just because Gale is portraying a gay character, it doesn’t make him
gay. No more than it would make him a Nazi if he were portraying Heinrich Himler. It’s a common
misconception, associating an actor too closely with a part he’s well known for, but I assure you that Gale isn’t
Brian Kinney.” She smiled, pleased with her own spin. Gale on the other hand, did his best to remain neutral in
the face of Suzanne’s hijack of the interview. Any intent he might have had to come clean evaporated faster
than the sweat forming in the palms of his hands.
Schneider smirked. “Well, you sure could have fooled me, Gale” he said turning to Gale once again and winked
conspiratorially. He waves his arms expansively at the two actors. “You two sure manage to make it look
VERY real.” He grinned, but all Gale could see was bared teeth. “You sure there isn’t something you’d like to
confess?’
Gale remained silent as Randy seethed next to him. The problem was Gale wasn’t sure what had set him off.
Was he angry because he thought Gale was hedging the straight thing again, or because this asshole was so
insistent on probing into their personal lives? He decided to hope it was the latter and forged on. “Well, thanks,
I think, ahh, Rob….ahhhh, Bob. Really, it’s acting. That’s what we’re paid to do, to bring these characters to
life and make them real, and if we’re doing it that well, then I’m gratified.”
“So, no exclusive for me today, huh? You’re sticking to your straight story?”
Even though he couldn’t see her, Gale could feel Suzanne’s eyes boring a hole in the back of his head and
Randy was practically turning himself inside out in his chair. Gale felt trapped between the two of them…one
willing his silence, the other begging for his recognition. He took a deep breath and shrugged, trying to laugh
and pass it all off as a joke. Later, he’d be angry at himself for his own cowardice, but right now he just wanted
to get this guy on another topic. “Sorry, I’ve made all the statements I’m going to make on that subject.” He
could almost hear Suzanne sigh with relief.
Schneider looked thoughtfully at Randy, who refused to make eye contact with him. He turned back to Gale and
went in for the kill. “OK. Hey, I’m convinced. But you know that raises another whole line of questioning.” He
glanced at Randy and his eyes twinkled malevolently. “Anybody special in your life at the moment?”
Gale wasn’t even remotely prepared for this turn of events. “What?” was the only response he could manage.
“Someone special – you know, ‘little honey’, ‘main squeeze’, ‘love of your life’?” Again Schneider looked
pointedly at Randy.
Gale later thought that if Randy hadn’t been sitting right next to him, he might have been able to think more
clearly. And if he had been able to think more clearly, he might have come up with a brilliant and tricky reply,
like “Now, you don’t think I’m really going to answer that do you?” or “yes, but I’m not telling you anything,”
or even something banal and meaningless like, “Next question, please.” But because Randy was sitting right
next to him ensuring that he couldn’t think clearly at all, he said the first thing that came into his head. “Ahhh,
no, nobody special.”
Schneider looked like he was waiting for Gale to answer, but he was really watching Randy out of the corner of
his eye. Randy flinched, pressed his lips together in a tight, angry little line, and slowly rose to his feet. “Excuse
me,” Randy whispered and turned on his heel. The sound of the door slamming echoed through the now quiet
room.
Schneider bared his teeth in a grin. “Where’s he going? Is the interview over?”
Gale blinked, his face blank. “Ahhh, I think they need him on the set.” In the brilliant and tricky reply
department, he was 0 for 5.
*****************************
“So what the fuck did you want me to say, exactly?”
“I don’t fucking know. Just not another version of ‘that’s my straight story and I’m sticking to it’!”
“Fine. Fucking FINE. Next time we do an interview, I’ll wear a pink miniskirt and a t-shirt with your picture on
it that says ‘I’m a fucking queer and this is my boyfriend’. Will that do it for ya?”
“Gale….”
“Gale WHAT?”
“Gale, don’t go into drama queen mode, OK?”
“Hello? Pot, kettle, black? Ring any bells?”
“Fuck, Gale, you didn’t have to say ‘NO’! You could have at least said, ‘yes, there is someone special, but the
details are private and I won’t discuss them.’”
“What difference does it make? We didn’t need that asshole to validate our relationship.”
“I didn’t want that asshole to validate our relationship. I want you to validate it, if only for yourself. For us.”
“I do, Randy. You know I do.”
“No, you don’t. You don’t acknowledge it privately or publicly. You don’t acknowledge it to our friends, your
family, to anyone. Hell, you barely even acknowledge it to yourself. I’m your fucking dirty little secret, the
piece of ass you keep on the side but are too ashamed to be seen in public with.” Randy was as stunned at what
was coming out of his mouth as Gale appeared to be; he knew he was headed straight for the point of no return
at about warp 6, but he felt powerless to stop himself. The floodgates were open, and it was all coming out
whether he liked it or not. “You’d rather haul your straight female friends around with you in public and let
people take pictures of you to prop up the ‘Gale Harold Is Straight’ myth than be seen with me. You won’t even
fucking stand next to me for publicity photos anymore because you’re so scared somebody will think you’re a
goddamned faggot. You’ll fuck me as long as nobody is looking, but otherwise you act like you barely know
who I am.”
“Randy, it’s not like that….”
“No, fuck you. It’s exactly like that, and you know what? I’m sick of it. I’m not going to do this anymore.
Either you’re queer or you’re not. Either you want me or you don’t. Either I’m good enough for you, or I’m not.
What the fuck ever, Gale. You’ve had years to deal with this. If you haven’t come to terms with who you
are…with me… by now, then I don’t think you ever will.
“Look, I love you, but I love myself, too, and I can’t do this. I can’t be with somebody who isn’t even sure he
wants me, and sure as hell doesn’t want anybody else to know it if he does. I need somebody who does want
me, who isn’t ashamed of me, someone who isn’t scared to death somebody is going to find out he’s with me.
Do you know how that makes me feel? It makes me feel dirty, Gale. Like something that’s not quite clean,
something that’s not quite right. It makes me feel like there’s something wrong with me, and that makes me feel
sick. I vowed a long time ago that I was never going to let the fact that I’m gay make me feel like that, and I
damned won’t let you. I don’t want you to sleep with me at night, and then ignore me during the day while you
hide behind this week’s sleazy, guitar playing bimbo.” He turned away from Gale and headed for the dressing
room door. Gale followed him and stopped him before he could get his hand on the doorknob.
“No, Randy, please, don’t leave…like this. Don’t leave…me. Please.” He hesitated. “I love you, Randy.”
Randy leaned his forehead against the door and sighed. “If you loved me, you wouldn’t treat me like this. If you
loved me, you’d be proud of me. You’d be proud of us.”
“Don’t, Randy. You know I’m proud of you, and you know it’s a lot more complicated than that.”
“No, I don’t know that.” He turned and faced Gale. “And it’s only as complicated as you make it. You have to
decide what you want, Gale, what’s important to you. You have to figure out how to make yourself happy.”
Gale stared at him. “Somebody else said that to me not long ago,” he whispered softly.
“Yeah? Well it’s good advice. I suggest you take it. And when you figure it all out, let me know. Just excuse me
if I don’t wait around until you decide who and what the fuck you are.” He pulled the door open and was
shutting it behind him before Gale could beg him to stay.
Chapter Nine
Gale didn’t see Randy again for nearly a week. They’d had no scenes together on the shooting schedule so it
wasn’t even necessary to avoid each other. Much to Gale’s dismay, that didn’t make the situation any easier. He
was withdrawn and preoccupied and everyone knew it. He kept flubbing his lines, missing his marks and
throwing up his hands and walking away in the middle of his scenes.
Bruce MacDonald was directing the episode they were currently filming, and he finally took Gale aside.
“Everything OK?”
“Yeah, fine.” Bruce just looked at him, and Gale finally broke eye contact and looked at the floor. “OK,” he
whispered. “Not fine.”
“I didn’t think so. Wanna talk about it?”
Gale shook his head. “No.”
“OK, look. We’re not getting anywhere and everyone, including me and including you, is just getting more and
more frustrated. It’s almost seven. Let’s wrap for tonight, and start fresh in the morning.”
”OK, thanks.”
“And Gale? When you get back here in the morning, I expect you to leave whatever is bothering you at the
door. Be ready to work.”
“I will be,” Gale bristled. “I’m just tired. I’ll be fine tomorrow.”
“Yeah, you may be fine tomorrow, but today you’re full of shit.” Bruce clapped him on the back. “Look, I
usually stay out of my actors’ personal lives, but here’s a piece of advice. Go home and talk to Randy and work
out whatever is wrong between you two and get back on track. You haven’t been yourselves since before
Thanksgiving break. He hides it better than you, but not much.”
Gale stared at him, mouth slightly agape. “What makes you think…..?”
“What makes me think what…that it’s got something to do with Randy? It ain’t rocket science, Gale. You think
nobody knows the two of you have a thing going on? Please, everybody knew it the last time I was here, and
when was that, late spring? If you’re trying to keep it a secret, you’ve failed, buddy, and miserably. Now go
find him and work it out. But, whatever you do, show up here tomorrow ready to work.” With that, he turned
and instructed the assistant director to wrap until 8 a.m. the following morning.
The extras wandered off the set, the crew started shutting everything down and Gale headed for his dressing
room, wondering if working it out was even an option. For the first time since he’d met Randy, Gale was afraid
that there wasn’t anything left to save.
When he arrived back at his apartment, he was done worrying that their relationship was beyond saving and was
edging sickening close to being completely convinced. The first thing that struck him was that the few things
Randy had routinely left at his apartment – a few changes of clothes, a stack of DVDs and CDs, a robe, a
toothbrush, some shampoo and body wash – were all gone. Randy had clearly come to pick up his things that
afternoon because it had all been here when he’d had left that morning. And then he saw it…the key to his
apartment that he’d given Randy was sitting on the little table in the living room, next to the phone. No note,
just the key, but a note wasn’t necessary: the abandoned key said it all.
He quickly picked up the phone and dialed Randy’s apartment and then his cell phone. Randy didn’t answer
either call and he ended up with his voice mail. The second time he left a message.
“Randy, look, I know you’ve heard this before, but this time I mean it. I’m going to do something about this. I
don’t want to lose you. I love you and I’m going to make this right. You were right about everything you said.
Please call me when you get this, OK? I need to talk to you. Please…just…call.” He stood with the phone in his
hand for a few minutes and then sighed and hung up. He didn’t know what else to say.
*********************************
By the time another week had gone by, Gale was getting really frustrated. He and Randy had only two scenes to
film together and shooting had taken place on two separate days. Randy called claiming to be sick the first day.
The second scene was rescheduled for the following week due to the weather. The rest of their scenes were
filmed separately – part of the “Justin Goes to Hollywood to Sell Rage” story arc. The end result was that they
didn’t see each other at all. Every time he called Randy he got voice mail, and no matter how many messages he
left and no matter what he said, his calls were never returned. Every time he went by Randy’s apartment he
either wasn’t home or wasn’t answering the door; Gale wasn’t sure which. But he was sure of one thing: he had
to do something before he went out of his mind. He missed Randy so much he could barely stand it.
It was Friday night and once again he went by Randy’s apartment but there was no answer when he rang the
bell. He briefly considered just sitting down in front of the door and waiting. Randy had to come home
eventually, right? But in the end, even he realized how pathetic that was and decided to go home. Before he
could even get the keys in the truck’s ignition, his cell phone started ringing. He quickly snatched it out of his
pocket and looked at the display. Much to his disappointment, it wasn’t Randy. Instead, it was Michelle.
“Hey”, he answered.
“Hey, Gale, what are you doing?”
“Oh, nothing.” There was no way he was going to admit that he was sitting in his truck parked on the street in
front of his conspicuously absent boyfriend’s apartment sinking deeper into depression. “What are you doing?”
“Well, a couple of us decided to go out for a drink. Want to come with us?”
“Who’s ‘us’”?
“Just me, Thea, Scott….Bobby might stop by later. He was having dinner with some friends and didn’t know
how long he’d be. You interested?”
He though about it for a minute and decided it had to be better than sitting here on the street waiting...for what
he didn’t know. “Sure. Where are you guys going?”
“Woody’s.”
Gale laughed ruefully. “Oh, Christ, I might have known. OK, I’ll meet you there in a half an hour.”
“Cool, see you then.”
He snapped the phone shut and started the truck. Yeah, he supposed it was less pathetic than sitting around
feeling sorry for himself.
Woody’s was a real gay bar and at the same time, because of its role on Queer as Folk, it was also one of the
biggest tourist attractions in the Church Street neighborhood. As a result, the clientele was always a bizarre mix
of gays, and fans of the show on some kind of pilgrimage. Since at least 50% of the show’s fan base was
straight women, an evening at Woody’s was always an adventure. The cast hung out there infrequently, but
when they did they all had a wild ride getting hit on and chatted up by all known sexual persuasions, and some
they’d never even thought of.
This night was no exception and Gale knew he was in for trouble when he spotted the table full of women,
clearly not locals, over in the corner watching the action with wide-eyed fascination. They’d apparently spotted
Scott and Michelle at the bar, but they hadn’t gotten a fix on him yet. He took a deep breath, wondering once
again why he’d thought this was a good idea, squared his shoulders and headed over to his friends. Maybe he
could talk them into going somewhere else.
“Hey,” Michelle grinned. “Don’t look now, but our adoring fans in the corner over there are trying to figure out
of it’s really you.”
Scott smiled and saluted Gale with his beer bottle. “Five bucks says they’re over here in less than
three…..two…..one…..”
“Excuse me, Mr. Harold?” Gale turned and was face to face with a cluster of about 6 middle aged women all
looking at him like he was a good sized chunk of filet mignon. The one who had addressed him was clutching a
magazine and a Sharpie to her ample bosom. “Oh….My….GOD,” she giggled breathlessly, “it’s really YOU!”
He plastered a smile on his face and mentally prepared himself for the onslaught. “Yep, it’s really me,” he
replied with an enthusiasm he didn’t feel.
“Oh my GOD,” she repeated, “OH MY GOD! I just love the show. I just LIVE for you and Justin….! Oh, sorry,
I mean, Randy. You guys are just so hot together! Oh my god!”
“Mary Beth,” one of her companions whispered, placing a hand on her arm. “Come on now, don’t scare him off
before the rest of us get a turn.”
Gale resisted an urge to roll his eyes. They were taking turns. He felt like a damned amusement park ride.
Mary Beth recovered her composure just long enough to thrust her magazine and Sharpie into Gale’s face.
“Would you please sign this for me, please? Oh my god, I LOVED this interview.”
Gale took the magazine from the woman’s hands. It was the interview that had turned just his life upside down;
he’d even made the cover. “Gale Warning,” the cover read. (Why did they always have to make those ridiculous
plays on words with his name?) “The ‘Queer as Folk’ Star Insists It’s All Just Acting”. Gale nearly groaned out
loud. No doubt what the focus of that interview ended up being. Just like he wasn’t in enough trouble. He
quickly scrawled his signature across the front of the magazine and made quick, and acceptably polite, work of
the rest of their autograph requests. He hurriedly posed for a handful of photos and then bidding them, and his
coworkers, a hasty good night, he bolted for the door. It wasn’t necessary for him to read the article to know
that if Randy had read it already, then the situation had just gotten significantly worse.
Chapter Ten
Gale drove around Toronto for about an hour before he realized he wasn’t going home. In fact he was revisiting
his earlier idea of camping out in front of Randy’s door and the idea was sounding less and less pathetic the
more he thought about it. Before he could think about it long enough to talk himself out of it, he found himself
pulling up in front of Randy’s building. He looked up at Randy’s living room window and realized sitting all
night in front of Randy’s door wasn’t going to be as much of a problem as he’d thought; the lights were on.
He slowly climbed the stairs, rehearsing a hundred and one apologies, and speeches begging for forgiveness in
his head, but he felt no better prepared when he reached the door than he had while still driving around
aimlessly in his truck. It probably didn’t matter. He had no confidence in Randy giving him another chance. He
could barely give himself another chance. Before he could knock the door flew open and he was faced with
Randy dressed in sweat pants glaring at him. His eyes practically sparkled with anger.
“I suppose you’re here about this,” he spat out, tossing the offending magazine at Gale’s feet. ‘Gale Warning’
the cover shouted at him, and he almost laughed at the irony. He was in the middle of a storm all right. He
slowly leaned over and picked it up and followed Randy into the apartment, closing the door behind him.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
“Yeah, no shit.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think?”
“Could you please just answer the question?”
“OK. I’ll answer it. Because I’m sick of being your cheap fuck, Gale. Of course now I can have a whole new
thing to be sick of….now I get to be sick of being the poor, sad little faggot who is lusting after his oh, so
straight co-star: poor pitiful, humiliated little Randy, the victim of the queer curse – falling for a straight guy
who doesn’t want him.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh, please, don’t pretend you don’t know what that son of a bitch wrote in that magazine. He made fun of me,
Gale. He humiliated me. He said I flounced out of the room! Fucking flounced!!! He said I was having a hissy
fit because you said it was all acting instead of acknowledging my ‘unrequited love’ for you. He actually wrote
in the article that having your gay costar lusting after you was one of the hidden dangers of straights playing gay
in a ‘mixed’ cast.”
“Randy, I’m sorry. I had no idea that’s what the article said. I didn’t read it.”
“Oh, bullshit!”
“No, really, I didn’t. Look, I figured the guy outed me and I guess I wasn’t ready to deal with the fall out. So I
didn’t read it.”
“Oh, heaven forbid! The world might find out you’re queerer than a fucking three dollar bill! Well, don’t worry.
He bought your bullshit, Gale. He thinks you’re straight, and that I’m some lovesick little queen hanging around
your neck like an albatross, the cross you have to bear for your ‘art’!”
“Randy….” Gale reached for him, but Randy was having none of it.
“He actually said that you’d probably be relieved when the show was over! Presumably because you could be
done with me mooning over you and jacking off while I watch you in the dailies!!”
Gale tossed the magazine on table; it felt wrong in his hands somehow. He reached for Randy again. “I know
you’re mad and I don’t blame you, but, please, I don’t want this asshole to tear us apart.”
“News flash, Gale. He didn’t have to. You can’t tear apart something that was never together in the first place.
Look, I want you to go. I want you to stop calling me. I want you to leave me alone.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do mean it. This was a mistake. Everybody told me it was a mistake, but I wouldn’t listen. ‘Never get
involved with a guy who’s in the closet’. ‘Never get involved with a guy who can’t come to terms with the fact
that he’s queer’. I heard it all, but I wouldn’t listen. Well, I should have.”
“Randy, no…”
“I can’t do this. It isn’t going to work, and I’m sick of getting my heart broken. Now I’m fucking getting bad
press because of it! I’ll always feel something for you, Gale, I’ll probably always love you, but I just can’t do
this any more. I can’t live my life like this. We’re just going to have to get thru the rest of the season and then
go our separate ways during the hiatus. Maybe when we get back next year I’ll be over wanting to kill you, but,
whatever…..I don’t want to see you outside of work. I want you to leave me alone and I don’t want to have this
conversation any more. I want you to go home.”
“Can’t we talk about….”
“No.” Randy cut him off before he could finish the sentence. “We’ve talked. And talked, and fucking talked,
and nothing has changed. I’m done talking, Gale. Now, please, I want you to leave.”
It was pointless to keep trying and Gale knew it. He was only going to upset and alienate Randy further than he
already had. He sighed in defeat and slowly walked out the door, quietly shutting it behind him. He unlocked
his truck, slid behind the wheel and spent the next half hour parked next to Randy’s building, staring out into
the darkness as silent tears made their way down his cheeks.
Chapter Eleven
Gale really didn’t think he could stand it much longer. They still had three episodes left to film and Randy
hadn’t budged. He was the picture of professionalism on the set and Gale never once saw him outside of the
studio since that last awful conversation. They’d filmed two sex scenes since the night Randy sent him away
and both times he’d felt like his heart was being torn apart. He’d actually had trouble during the last one and
had to ask for a break because he was seriously afraid he was going to cry. He claimed that his stomach was
bothering him, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t fooling anyone any more. Randy had remained outwardly aloof
and unemotional and had retreated to his trailer until they called him back to the set after Gale pulled himself
together.
Gale had hoped that if he gave Randy some space that he’d come around after a while, but it hadn’t happened.
Gale had gotten drunk one night and called Randy’s apartment but he’d hung up when a male voice he didn’t
recognize answered Randy’s phone. He’d sent flowers, but found them the next day in the back of his truck.
Gale didn’t know what else to do besides give up.
***********************************
“Good morning, everybody.”
Everyone mumbled back ‘morning’ at Sheila Hockin, the show’s producer, as she entered the room they used
for cast meetings and read-thrus. The entire cast was there, some eating breakfast and drinking coffee. Gale sat
at the far end next to Thea; Randy was near the head of the table next to Sharon. Gale stared at Randy, as he
normally did when they were in the same room, but Randy resolutely refused to meet his gaze. Thea soothingly
rubbed his thigh under the table. “He’ll come around, Gale. Give him time.”
Before Gale could react, Sheila spoke up. “Sorry for the short notice everyone, but before we start the script
read-thru, I wanted to warn all of you that Entertainment Today has asked if they could send a couple of their
people to tour the set, film a little of our operations, and do interviews with the cast and crew for a short piece
they’re doing on our Season Four Premiere.”
Michelle spoke up. “When are they coming?”
“Ahh…tomorrow.” They all groaned. “Sorry, guys, I know, but its good publicity for the show and Dan and
Ron are pretty happy about them coming. I think they’ll just be looking for sound bites, no big long interviews.
They’re only staying the one day, they want to get some action footage during the filming, do a few brief sitdowns with you guys and me and Patrick and Dan and Ron and they’ll be out of here. I promise it won’t be too
bad.”
The room filled with their muted groans and dramatic sighs. “Part of the deal, folks,” Sharon grinned. “Suck it
up and smile pretty for the camera. At least you all get to keep your clothes on!” That was Sharon’s running
joke. She was the only lead cast member who had never done a nude scene on the show and that fact was the
well-spring of a lot of good natured teasing.
“Yeah,” Hal shot back, “but the big surprise is that this time you have to strip.”
Sharon laughed that loud, brash laugh they’d all come to love. “Trust me, America may be ready for you guys
to all strip and pretend to fuck the shit out of each other, but there’s no way they’ll put up with me naked in
their living rooms.”
Randy joined in the laughter, but Gale could tell it was forced and that just made him feel sadder. He was sure
neither of them would ever be happy again if they didn’t find some way to put themselves back together.
*******************************************
Gale arrived at the studio the following morning and almost groaned out loud when he saw the Entertainment
Today crew setting up near the set. He’d forgotten they were going to be there. He’d read the script last night
for today’s scenes and he had a scene with Randy that promised to be a real emotional powder keg and now he
was going to have to film it with these yo-yos in his face and probably recording every scene. He just wanted to
go back to his apartment and get stoned. No, scratch that; he wanted this crap between him and Randy to go
away, but if that wasn’t happening, he’d settle for some weed.
Gale checked the shooting schedule for the day and his scene with Randy wasn’t until later that afternoon. He
wasn’t looking forward to this one at all. This was their last scene of the last episode of the season, and in it his
character, Brian, asks Randy’s character, Justin, to move back in with him. Life imitates art, Gale thought.
Yeah, this ought to be more fun than a root canal.
“Gale…..Gale?”
He turned and saw Sheila hurrying toward him with a woman he didn’t recognize in tow. “Hey, Sheila.”
“Hey, Gale, I’d like you to meet Sherry Hart, she’s with Entertainment Today and since you don’t have a scene
to shoot for a bit, maybe you can spend a few minutes with her?” He could almost hear the plea in her voice;
Sheila knew he hated this stuff.
Gale took a deep breath and tried not to remember the last interview he’d done. He cordially extended his hand.
“Nice to meet you, Sherry. Sure, I’ve got a couple of minutes.” It was, after all, his job. “Would you like to go
sit down somewhere?”
“If it’s OK with you, I’d like to interview you right here on the set while they’re setting up for the scene. Do
you mind? It would be great background for the interview.”
“No, wherever…it’s fine.”
“OK, let me go get my camera guy. I promise we won’t take too long. Just a couple of questions.”
“Sure, take your time.” As she walked away, Gale glanced up and saw Randy coming onto the set. He was in
the scene they were setting up for now. He and the guest actor playing “Brett Keller” were scheduled to film a
scene in “Brett’s” kitchen. Sharon was talking on the far side of the room with the director, probably about the
next scheduled scene. Randy did what he always did these days: he pretended Gale didn’t exist. When he was
finished pointedly ignoring Gale, he headed toward Sharon and the director. It didn’t matter to Gale that he was
doing what he always did. It still hurt.
Before he could think about it much longer, Sherry was back with her camera man whom she introduced as
“Rich”. Hands were shaken and pleasantries were exchanged while Gale continued to watch Randy out of the
corner of his eye. He tried to ignore the fact that “Rich” was cruising him and doing nothing to try to hide it.
“Ready, Gale….may I call you Gale?”
He smirked. “Just as long as you don’t call me Brian.”
She smiled at the joke. Actors never liked being mistaken for their characters.
“Ok, let’s go then….ready, Rich? Three, and two and one…..Good afternoon everyone, I’m Sherry Hart and
Entertainment Today is bringing you live to the set of Queer as Folk where the cast and crew are busy wrapping
up filming on the fourth season of the show. With me right now is Gale Harold, who plays the character of
Brian Kinney. Thanks for being with us today, Gale.”
“You’re very welcome.”
“So, you’re almost ready to wrap the fourth season of your show and next year is rumoured to be the last
season. Any thoughts on that?”
“It’s bittersweet, really. Um, we’ll all be sad to leave, I think, but happy to be free to pursue other projects, you
know? It’s been a long run. A good run. And we’re all looking forward to filming season five, to bringing,
umm, the story to a close.”
“Think you’ll miss your character?”
“Yeah, I’ll, um, miss Brian. He’s a pretty interesting guy.”
“Have you learned anything from him?”
“Oh, sure, it’s always a learning experience.”
“Do you think you’re anything like him?”
“Um, no, not really. He’s a lot more aggressive than I am.”
“And he’s a gay man and you’re obviously not. Different life experiences, different relationships, that sort of
thing?”
Here it was again, Gale thought. The Gale Harold’s Sexual Orientation Elephant in the Middle of the Room.
What came out of his mouth next shocked everyone who was listening. When he watched the interview on
television later, he realized he’d even shocked himself.
“Well, that’s not true. I mean, we’re both gay, but we’re still nothing alike. We’re still completely different
people.”
Sherry Hart, for the first time in her effervescent career, was at a loss for words. She just stood there, smiling
her bright white smile, and looked at him, with the microphone pointed in his face. Rich The Cameraman,
however, smirked knowingly and kept the camera rolling. Gale couldn’t resist. “Sherry, are you alright?”
She visibly almost shook herself and blinked her eyes at him owlishly. “I’m sorry, did you just say you were
gay?”
“Ummm…yeah, I guess that’s what I said.” He rolled his lips into his mouth, trying not to laugh out loud at the
look on her face. “You got a problem with that?” He could hear the low murmuring of the cast and crew
members as, one by one, they focused on the conversation. They all slowly stopped what they were doing,
nudging the person next to them to get their attention. The change of focus rippled across the room and Gale
could sense people slowly drawing in toward him and his surprised inquisitor.
“In last week’s Entertainment This Week magazine, you said you were straight,” Sherry said slowly. She knew
she was in deep water, but her tabloid reporter’s heart wouldn’t let her let go.
“Yeah, I guess I did.”
“So now you’re saying you’re gay?”
“Looks like it.”
“Ummm…..well, they can’t both be true,” she laughed nervously. “I mean……well, which is it?”
“I’m gay,” he said, shrugging his shoulders and sounding matter-of-fact about the whole thing, when in reality
he was quite certain his heart was going to punch a hole right out through his rib cage. He briefly wondered why
he was doing this. At one time, Randy would have been the reason, but Randy was gone.
“Then why did you say you were straight?”
“The same reason most gay people claim to be straight. Scared, I guess.” He took a deep breath. “Pretty stupid,
huh?”
“Nooo,” she hesitated. “Not stupid. A lot of people have reasons to keep that kind of information to
themselves.” She smiled gently at him. “There’s no shame in that. But why are you coming out now?”
“Tired of hiding, I guess. And because my refusal to be honest about it hurt someone I care about very much.”
Inside his head, a voice was screaming at him to shut up, but another, louder voice, was cheering him on. He
had no idea where the hell this was going. All he knew was that it didn’t really matter one way or the other. He
couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.
“Someone you love?” She smiled at him quizzically.
“Uh-huh.”
“Care to share?” She was trying to appear caring and sympathetic, but Gale was quite sure she figured she had
the story of the month, right here at her fingertips.
The moment of truth had arrived. “Um…well, I don’t know. He might not appreciate me talking about him.” He
looked up and saw Randy staring at him intently. “He isn’t exactly speaking to me at the moment.”
He could see the glee in her eyes. There was no doubt that she smelled a hot story and she wasn’t about to let it
go. “Well, Gale,” she encouraged, “feel free to declare your feelings right here. Does he watch the show?”
“I dunno…” He was suddenly coming down with a case of cold feet and he was starting to feel kind of stupid.
And he suddenly, for the first time in months, couldn’t stop thinking about his mother. “Ahhh….could we shut
off the camera….this is getting a little personal.” He looked up in time to see Randy turn to walk away. “No,
wait…wait. Don’t turn off the camera. What the hell. He’s already pissed at me so I guess I haven’t got
anything to lose.”
Sherry Hart pushed the microphone back in his face. He leaned in slightly and spoke directly into it.
“Randy…?”
Randy slowly turned and looked at him.
He took a deep breath and took the mic out of Sherry Hart’s hand. “It’s Randy. I’m in love with Randy
Harrison.” Gale grinned, but it felt more like a grimace. He dropped his hand, still clutching the microphone, to
his side. He started to feel mildly dizzy and his peripheral vision faded just a bit, until all he could see was
Randy slowly walking toward him.
*************************************
“Don’t get me wrong. I’m really glad we’re here, but I don’t get it.”
“What’s not to get? I wanted to see your mother.”
“That’s the part I don’t get. Why do you want to see my mother?”
“Because she’s a nice lady. Beside, I have something for her.”
“What?”
“Never mind. None of your business, Sunshine.”
“How many fucking times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?”
Gale smirked and pulled Randy in for a kiss. “Buckle up, Sunshine. We’re about to land.”
*************************************
“Thanks for dinner.”
“You’re welcome, Gale. Now would you like tell me why you wanted to go for a walk?”
Gale slipped his arm around Sylvia Harrison’s shoulders as they slowly ambled up the sidewalk. It was quiet
and cool. The streetlamps and porch lights gave off just enough glow so they could see where they were going.
A breeze ruffled Gale’s hair and a dog barking echoed off in the distance. “I just wanted a chance to say ‘thank
you’.”
“Randy told me what you did.”
“I figured as much.”
“How did your parents react?” Sylvia slipped her arm around the waist of this man her son so deeply loved.
“Let’s just say the silence was deafening.”
She couldn’t resist a quiet chuckle. “Sorry, I know that wasn’t meant to be funny.”
“No, but it was predictable.”
“I’m sorry, Gale.”
“Doesn’t matter. You know what they say. One door closes, but another one opens.”
“That’s what they say.”
They walked on in comfortable silence for a few minutes until Gale finally spoke again. “So, thanks. I thought a
lot about what you said.”
“Well, you’re welcome, but I don’t think what I said made much difference. I think what really mattered to you
was Randy.”
“He’s the most important thing, but……I couldn’t stop thinking about everything you told me. It’s what really
got me through it, I think.” He was silent for a few moments and then he sighed. “You know, for the first time, I
really understood what I was doing.”
“What was that?”
“I kept trying to resist.”
She looked at him, puzzled. “Resist what?”
He snorted. “Everything. My parents, their religion, being gay…..everything. I even got this tattoo...” He held
up his hand. “It says ‘resist’. On the middle finger of my right hand, no less. The big old ‘fuck you’.”
Now it was Sylvia’s turn to snort. “That’s so very like you, Gale.”
He smiled in the darkness, but then grew serious again. “But you know what I finally realized? What you finally
made me realize? The only thing I was really resisting was being happy.”
“Well, now you have some new things to resist.”
He pulled away slightly and looked at her. “What’s that?”
“Un-happiness. And my pecan pie. Now, come on, let’s go back to the house.”
When they returned, Randy was waiting for them on the front porch. Gale pulled him into his arms and kissed
that sensitive spot just behind his left ear. He tangled his fingers in Randy’s soft locks and smiled as his eyes
were drawn to his tattoo, tucked between his index and middle fingers. It looked the same, but he realized it
meant something different now. Something better. He buried his nose in the sweet fragrance of Randy’s hair.
“You know what?” he breathed .
“Ummm?” Randy murmured, pulling Gale closer.
“You’re absolutely irresistible.”
~An Deireadh~
I'd like to thank the two folks who were kind enough to beta the whole 55 pages for me -- rhiannonhero,
whose suggestions resulted in massive improvements. She's a real talent and an excellent editor. And
plumsuede my new bud whose writing I greatly enjoy. I'm honoured that she was willing to devote her time
to my little project. Thank you both so much.