Coda 03 -The Letter Z

and Angelo. Zach had his arm around Angelo’s shoulder, and Ang had his hand in Zach’s back pocket, and any time Zach said something to Ang, he would lean down and say it into Angelo’s hair. Angelo would smile up at him, and sometimes Zach would even kiss him. It was a level of intimacy that Jared and I rarely displayed in public. Even in Vegas, some people were turning around to watch them pass. The distance between them and us seemed to grow as we walked. Without even meaning to, Jared and I were distancing ourselves from them. I wasn’t sure if it was him causing it, or me.
    “They don’t care at all, do they?” I asked.
    “Zach doesn’t even think about it,” Jared said. “You know how he is. He probably doesn’t even realize people are looking at him. Angelo knows, but you’re right—he doesn’t care.”
    “Does it bother you?”
“That they’re like that?”
“That I’m not.”
He looked over at me with a smile. “No. Not a bit.”
    Once we got into the Forum Shoppes at Caesar’s, we ended up switching places. Somehow, I ended up walking with Zach. Jared and Angelo were a couple of steps ahead of us. I was watching the crowd around us, looking for men with other men.
    “What are you doing?” Zach asked me.
“Trying to pick out other couples,” I said, feeling embarrassed. “I never used to think about it, but now, every time I see two men together, I wonder if they’re together .” I could tell he thought that was funny. “Don’t you wonder?” I asked him.
He shrugged. “I don’t pay attention.” Which, if I had taken the time to think about it, I probably would have known. Zach didn’t really pay attention to much that went on around him.
“What are you trying to judge by?” Jared asked, obviously amused.
“Clothes.”
“You think that’s all it takes?” Angelo asked.
“Well, I think my basis for comparison might be skewed. I tend to think any guy dressed better than Jared is gay.”
Angelo gave me his lopsided smirk. “That’s half the guys in Vegas, includin’ Zach.”
“Yeah, but Zach is gay,” I said.
“Right,” Ang said, “but like those two guys,” he gestured toward two men wearing suits, “they’re dressed better than any of us, and they’re straight.”
“They’re wearing name badges,” I said.
“So?”
“They’re here for a conference. They have to wear those suits, so that doesn’t count.”
“Okay, genius, then what you basin’ it on?”
I shrugged, looking over at Zach for help.
“Shoes,” Zach said.
“Coats,” I said.
“Hats,” Zach added.
Jared and Angelo looked at each other in amusement but didn’t say
    anything. We kept walking and after a minute, Angelo nodded toward a man walking past us with a funny lopsided hat on his head. “So you probably think that guy’s queer just ’cause of his hat?” he asked.
    Zach and I looked at the guy and both of us nodded. “No way does any straight guy wear a hat like that in public,” I said.

    Jared shook his head. “I think he was just European.”

    Zach and I looked at each other again, and Zach laughed. “So a nice coat or a funny hat means either gay, or European?” he asked.
    “Yeah man,” Angelo said sarcastically. “Which makes all four of us straight as fuckin’ rulers. Who’s ready to hit the strip clubs with me?”
I actually wouldn’t have objected to a strip club, but I knew Ang was joking, and Jared and Zach probably weren’t interested, so I kept my mouth shut.
    “What about those two?” I asked, gesturing toward two more men walking together. “Gay, or European?”
    Zach watched them walk past, then said, “European.”
“Gay,” Angelo and Jared said in unison.
“How do you know?” I asked.
    Angelo and Jared looked at each other, trying to decide who would answer. It ended up being Jared. “They were each carrying more than three shopping bags,” he said, “and not one of them was from Victoria’s Secret.”
    “Maybe they were buying gifts for their moms,” I said. Jared laughed. “Yeah, right. How often do you do that?” He had a point there, so I didn’t answer.
    “Okay,” Zach said a minute later. He gestured at two more men who were walking past us. “Gay, or European?”
    “Gay,” I said.
“European,” Angelo said to me over his shoulder.
“How do you know?”
“They were speakin’ French!”
    “Okay,” Zach said to me, smiling. “I suppose that should have tipped us off.”

    “Aren’t you supposed to have some