watching three movies a week and then writing about them. I like being out on the scene, getting the story, chasing tips,” I say, sipping my drink. The bartender comes back and brings Ray his Corona. He stuffs a lime down the bottle’s neck.
“Any cute guys tonight?” Ray asks, taking a swig from his beer.
“Just the usual. I feel like I’ve met everyone here.”
“Oye, Ted, that’s because you have met everyone. You’re always out. You’re overexposed like Britney Spears. You’ve clocked more club hours than Paris Hilton. If you were on Friendster or MySpace, you’d have the whole city on your friends list.”
“Well, I am on TV after all. My face is out there. My name is out there. I have to be out there to keep up my profile. Look, you’re the one with the mug shot in your paper every Friday, so I wouldn’t talk.”
“Yeah, but I don’t do the party scene and take Channel 7 with me like you do. Maybe you should take a break from all the partying and being-seen scene.”
I know what he means. It’s hard to stand out when you’re everywhere, but I can’t help it. It’s part of my persona, my job. I feel like I’m doing community service by attending various functions and events, like I’m promoting Channel 7 and myself in the process. There’s always cuter and younger faces out there waiting for me to screw up so they can steal my job. I know I’m good at what I do, but I also know I’m not a looker by South Beach standards. I’m not all-American boy handsome like Brian, or even boyishly Cuban cute like Ray and his twin. I stand out here and yet, I don’t. Makeup cleans me up well for television. But one thing I’ve got under my belt is my Magnum P.I. (Portuguese-Irish) dick. It’s the size of a hand-held Channel 7 microphone, at least that’s why my tricks have told me. I’m happy that I take after the Portuguese in that respect.
“I just think that if I get myself out there, I’ll find that guy, you know?” I tell Ray, scanning the surrounding tables for other cute guys.
“I know what you mean but I bet there’s a whole layer of guys out there who go to book clubs, or the Gallery Walks in Coral Gables. It’s those guys we have to find,” Ray says, holding up his beer for a toast.
“Amen,” I click my glass to his.
“Gay men!” Ray says looking around. “Speaking of men, where’s Brian?”
It’s almost midnight, and Score is packed. The Venezuelan bouncer with the fake blonde hair is turning people away at the door. The DJ inside starts mixing Christina Aguilera’s Ain’t No Other Man. It’s a good thing we have our table outside. We only go inside when we have to dash in for a bathroom break. Friday nights are about the three of us catching up, not so much about manhunting, though Brian would probably disagree.
I think I see him over there by the Starbucks, talking to some muscular Latin guy. No wonder he’s late. He’s chatting it up with a hot Puerto Rican. A few minutes later, we see Brian coming our way with a big grin on his face. I notice that Brian is dressed in his usual attire: white Polo T-shirt accented by a thick silver necklace, blue jeans, and sneakers. No matter how many times we’ve told Brian that he has the money to dress better, he doesn’t listen. He prefers to be ultra-casual.
“Hey, chicos. Sorry I’m late. I, um, got sidetracked,” Brian says, looking up as if he just ate the canary and the cat that was eyeing it, too. He gives us each a bear hug that leaves us momentarily breathless. Ray and I are like midgets next to him.
“Good seeing you, Brian,” Ray says, with a return hug and a loud masculine pat on the back.
“Yeah, I saw what distracted you, a six-foot-tall, dark, curly-haired Puerto Rican with a deep-fried tan and biceps the size of the grapefruits, probably the ones that made my drink. Does that sound right?”
“Yeah, just about, Ted. Wasn’t he hot?” Brian’s eyes dance mischievously as he talks about the guy who sort of looks like Adam Rodriguez from CSI: Miami but with a slightly bigger Latino fro. Brian plays with the golden brown whiskers of his goatee. “I’m gonna meet up with him inside later after we all hang out. Qué rico! His name is Eros. He’s a Puerto Rican with a Greek name. How hot is that?” Brian says, taking his seat next to Ray.
“You know, you better be careful with that one,” Ray pipes up. “Eros in Greek mythology was the god of love, lust, and sex. His Roman equivalent is Cupid,” Ray says, lighting another cigarette. “Even worse, his name is sore spelled backwards.” Ray is always giving us some pop or historical trivia. He does this with movies, literature, history or anything else that comes to his mind. He’s a human Wikipedia. Call him Ray-ipedia.
Brian grins. He obviously seems smitten, or just lustful, from the few minutes he was talking to this guy.
Even from my seat across the café table, Brian’s eyes seem luminous, a slice of the Atlantic on a stormy day. The guy has the looks, the money, a rich partner, and the life. But yet, it never seems to be enough for him. He wants more.
Don’t get me wrong. I really like Brian. He’s a good guy and means well, but does he have to have it all? Let Ray and me have the single guys to ourselves. Brian already has a man, a very wealthy one. Do I sound a little bitter? Maybe I am. I guess because deep down inside, I’ve always had a tiny crush on Brian, but that could never be. He has a man at home and another always waiting on his Miami horizon.
The manboy bartender returns and fetches a drink for Brian. He likes vodka and cranberry.
“So what’s going on, guys? How’s your other half, Ray?” Brian asks, sipping his reddish drink.
Ray tells him that his brother is good, as always, and that he’ll see him tomorrow. He tells us about Miami Vice II and what to expect, but doesn’t ruin the movie. I recount my crazy week and my little encounter with Trina Tucker.
“You called her Trina Fucker?” Brian asks, his blue eyes widening.
“Oye, that’s hysterical,” Ray jumps in. “Too bad that wasn’t on camera. It could have made the people news in the News.”
Catching up with these guys is the right way to end the week and begin the weekend. We chat for another hour or so, ordering more drinks and talking about what’s coming up in our lives.
Brian says he’s doing his best to complete the renovations on his new house on the Venetian Causeway while having Daniel call him about every little thing every hour. Daniel expects things to be done yesterday, every day. It may explain why he’s a multi-millionaire. Too bad we haven’t met yet. Brian says he doesn’t like to socialize.
“Daniel hates it when the contractors fall behind schedule. That’s why I have to stick around here for the next few weeks to watch things. I don’t mind. That’s more time to play with my new friend,” Brian says, prowling the outside of the club for Eros.
Ray has two movies to review next week, Ocean’s 14, and a new movie by Pedro Almodovar. He also has to help his father and Racso with some house repairs. If he’s not at work or with his dog Gigli, Ray is with his super-needy Cuban family.
By 1 a.m., just as things start getting good outside of Score, Ray decides to call it a night.
“Oye, I’m exhausted guys. I had a long day, and I have to help my brother tomorrow. So in the infamous words of the Ah-nold, Hasta la vista, baby.” He takes one last swig of his third Corona, and he high-fives each of us as he disappears down Lincoln Road.
Brian decides to use Ray’s exit as his exit. It figures. He’s always seemed more comfortable with Ray than with me. It was through Ray that I met Brian. It’s always been me and Ray since college, but Brian makes a nice third to our group. I know what it feels like to be the new kid on the block in a new city, not knowing anyone so I felt I should give Brian a chance and welcome him to Miami when he joined our little clique a year or so ago. Besides, it’s fun listening to Brian’s stories about his latest hookups and the renovations to his homes. He’s quite a wild character.
“Hey, Ted, I think I’m gonna