The Front Runner

very excited about going to Montreal. The other one wishes he was back at Prescott mowing the lawn." He was rinsing himself off carefully.
    "Yeah," I said. "Oh, well, just a few more weeks." I was pressing against him very tenderly.
    He moved his rear end a little. "Oh, you're such a sexy old man," he moaned. "If you make Mike wait, he'll leave and I'll have to walk back."
    "He won't leave," I said. "He's a friend."
    "That's a fact." Billy moved aside and let me get up to the washbowl myself.
    We pulled on our clothes. We felt very relaxed. We went out into the winey air and down the row of units to where John and Vince were staying. The door was open, and they were all in there sitting around on the beds with cans of beer.
    Mike grinned at us lasciviously. "The big advantage you guys have," he said, "is that you don't have to spend five dollars a month on the pill."
    Sue giggled and colored.
    Vince was sitting stooped, wearing a laced leather
    jerkin that left his arms bare. He had come back from Europe with more money, more tattoos, a few bizarre adventures in the gay undergrounds of London and Amsterdam, and a load of depression that none of us could lift from him, not even Billy. He had come straight out and moved into the motel with us. He was delighted that Billy had made the team, and was living vicariously in it.
    "Oh," said Mike, pulling something out of his jacket pocket, "I've got something for you. Saw it on the newsstand in town." He threw it across the bed to Billy.
    It was Time, with Billy's and my faces on the cover. I was behind, with my Marine crewcut and poker-face. Billy was in front, slightly lower down, smiling and hairy. The artist had rendered his curls as carefully as Botticelli (I had learned about Botticelli from Steve Goodnight). The band across the cover said
    THE GAY PHENOMENON.
    "So they finally ran it, huh?" said Billy, leafing through it to find the cover story. There were three pages of color photographs giving the straight reader glimpses into the gay world. Gays sunning themselves on the grass in Central Park. Gays touch dancing in a downtown Manhattan bar. A religious service in a gay church, conducted by a gay priest. There were several photos of Billy and me, taken by Bruce Cayton. The two of us sitting on the grass at our wedding, kissing on the mouth. The two of us at the track, me timing and Billy hurtling past, blurred.
    Time senior editor Ben Maddox and a girl researcher had come up to interview us in June. We had told them that we couldn't cooperate with them unless they signed something saying they would not use Billy's name in any advertising, as this would jeopardize his amateur status. They had agreed. They had done a big research job, and we were impressed with their effort to make some sense of the emerging gay community.
    "Isn't there something about being jinxed if you've been on the cover of Time?" said Mike.
    "Buddhists aren't supposed to be superstitious," said Billy. He looked at me and grinned. "Neither are Christians."
    The magazine went from hand to hand. "Lindquist is not gonna like this," said Vince. "Neither is the USOC."
    "What're they going to do?" said Billy. "We talked to Time before the Trials. The hell with the USOC."
    In the obedience agreement that Billy had had to sign, there was a clause saying that the athlete would not have dealings with the media unless the USOC gave permission. Billy had actually been happy about that clause, because he was sick of talking with reporters about being gay. He was even sick of discussing running with them. He just wanted to be left alone. The USOC were mystified at his docility about this, and relieved that Billy was going to be out of sight for a while. They weren't letting any reporters near him.
    Mike swallowed the last of his beer and stood up. "Well, folks, sorry to break up this gathering, but we have to get back. I promised Martinson I'd play chess with him right after dinner."
    We all got up and trooped out. At the door, Billy put his arms around me and kissed me. "Bye," he said. "See you tomorrow."
    Mike, Sue and Billy climbed into the convertible. A honk, a wave, a screech of tires, and they were out on the highway, speeding away.
    "Remind me to tell Sue to drive carefully," said John a little drily.
    We all went back into John's room.
    "Billy and Mike are pretty friendly, huh?" said Vince morosely.
    "Don't worry, you haven't been replaced," said John.
    "There's several of them that he's really solid