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Joey

Bill Tope

    “I had a cousin once,” remarked Jake to a gathering of his friends at the tavern, “but he was a Homo.” The crowd had been discussing their families,
    Several of the other men snickered, but Joey, an off-duty policeman and a bit of an iconoclast, piped up with, “How do you know what he was?” One never knew what Joey would say or do or which side of an argument he would take.
    Jake rolled his eyes. “He lived his whole life with his mother. He died what, five years ago? He was fifty years old. And he never lived out on his own. What would you call it?” he asked.
    Joey shrugged. “Maybe he just loved his mother, felt responsible for her, wanted to take care of her?” he suggested. “We all need someone when we get older.”
    Jake shook his head. “You had to meet him. He was queer!”
    “And what,” asked Joey calmly, “do you have against queers?” The others grew quiet now, unsure where this conversation was headed. This was Joey being Joey, they thought. Their eyes darted, in turn, from Joey to Jake and back again. Jake was known to have a short fuse.
    “You mean the ‘LGBTQ Community?” asked Jake with a smirk. “Nothing. So long as they know their place—and stay there.”
    “You never know who’s in the ‘Community’” noted the other man with the serenity and confidence of the martial artist that Joey was.
    Jake frowned, wondered if he had said too much. After all, he wasn’t a bigot. “Look, I can have a beer with a gay guy, I’m broad minded. But if he comes on to me, lays his hands on me, I’ll take his head off. I’ll waste the mother,” he promised. Jake began to wonder about Joey, whom he’d known for years. Or thought he did.
    Joey took a step forward, placed his hand comfortably on Jake’s shoulder. He said, “You’re a good friend, Jake. I love you, Man.”
    Jake flushed. He stammered, “Well, yeah, Joey. I love you too, man....”
    “I appreciate that, Jake.” He drew nearer to the other man, so no one else could hear them. “I want to get closer to you, man, do you know what I mean?” Jake’s head spun. How much beer had he had? He couldn’t remember. Was Joey actually hitting on him? No... Now Joey’s fingers were digging gently into Jake’s shoulder. Joey was still talking. Jake listened. “I’m HIV-free, Jake.” Jake nodded, smiled weakly, unsure how to respond. “I got to call it a night,” said the policeman suddenly, pulling back and speaking to the group. “Lot’s of perps to bust tomorrow—check out the gay bars tomorrow night—for violations, huh?” He winked at Jake. “Next round’s on me,” Joey said, tossing a twenty onto the table.
    When Joey had left, Jake felt like a weight had just been lifted from his chest. He blew out a breath. His cheeks were still burning.
    “Hey,” said another of the men, watching Joey go. “That dude has a black belt in karate, what a stud. I bet he’s got the chicks chasing after him. Joey is a lot of fun, ‘eh, Jake? You’ve known him for a long time, right?”
    Unaccountably, Jake blushed deeply and replied, “Yeah, you never know what to expect out of Joey; he’s a great kidder.”

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