Lafayette seemed stressed about having people over on Saturday. It looked like he was on an old sitcom and the boss was coming over for dinner. He was the boss so what was he stressing about? Plus, it was only six people, all of whom he had known for years. I helped him clean up the terrace so we could barbecue. Most of the terrace furniture had been covered, so I took off the covers, fluffed the throw cushions, straightened the furniture so it was laid out in a nice sitting arrangement, and swept the floors. Lafayette didn't ask me to do this and he even told me to not worry about it, but I told him I was his assistant so I would assist.
By the time everyone was supposed to arrive, the terrace looked great. The string lights were lit, casting a hazy, yellow glow that was just bright enough to see but not too bright to kill the ambiance. Lafayette had the grill set up and was already cooking a variety of foods, the smoke carried through the window he opened so it didn't carry up over the terrace, even though the ceiling was also open. Drinks were ready on the beverage cart and music was playing on the speaker. Still, Lafayette was stressed.
I had never hung around with Lafayette and his crew. Lafayette said he met Jerry and Don when he was eleven. They lived in a townhouse next to the Catholic school he had attended. He went there after school sometimes. I remember he said that he stopped attending that school after the seventh grade and that he went to the public school where Emilio and Michael attended. So he met them when he was thirteen, almost twenty years ago. It was crazy to me, having the same friends for that long. I barely had any friends, none of which I had known for very long. The three of them met Carla and Marion in college, so the three of them had known those two for over a decade.
All of them arrived at the same time, and in a matter of minutes it's like they had been there for hours already. Michael and Carla sat on the couch talking. Marion and Emilio were standing next to Lafayette at the grill. Don and Jerry were upstairs in the art gallery. Lafayette said I was not on the job. I was staying with him and was there to hang out. Nonetheless, I still felt like I had to be the dutiful assistant. So I was tending to the food on the table for snacking and the beverage cart.
When the food on the grill was done, we sat around the patio table eating, talking, and drinking. I sat next to Lafayette, who was not saying much. I also was not saying much. I felt so awkward and out of place. There wasn't a name for the feeling I was feeling, but it gave me the self-conscious feeling I felt all the time in high school. Alone, out of place, an afterthought.
"Hey," Lafayette said, tapping me on the arm. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," I said. Did anyone ever say they were not okay?
"Do you like the food?" he asked. His plate was empty while mine was half full.
"Yeah, it was really good," I said. "I'm just full already."
He nodded. "Well, let me know if you want me to kick everyone out."
I smiled lightly. "No, that's so rude," I said.
He shrugged. "They'll get over it." He drank his beer.
"You literally told me that you want to put your house to use more," I said.
"One house guest is enough," he said. "Look at these guys anyway. They're such slobs. At least you clean up after yourself."
"Well, these are your friends and I'm your employee. You could fire me if you thought I was too much of a slob," I said, smirking.
"I would not fire you for messing up my house when I was the one who invited you. If anything, I could get the ax from the board for letting you stay here," he said.
My smile dropped. "Are you serious? I don't want you to get fired. How can you get fired? You're the CEO. Do I need to leave?" I asked.
"No, Em, it's fine," he said. "But yes, I can get fired, which is a good thing. If I couldn't get fired then I could do all kinds of corrupt things. It's good governance. All of the board of directors are volunteers, external stakeholders, you know. So there is no bias."
"That's cool. I didn't know that. I don't know anything about business. Sometimes I wish I got an associate's in business administration. It would have been better than writing," I said.
"If I recall, your degree got you promoted to the marketing floor," he said. "I also thought you wanted to work in the marketing department, like a content writer."
"Oh, well that was a while ago," I said. "I mean, I like writing. I tend to prefer creative writing, but I know that's not super sustainable as a career."
Lafayette shook his head. "It can be sustainable. It just takes time. If you want to ever write an article or something, you can let me read it and I can review it. I mean, Carla will get the final say, but if I like it I can let her know."
"Okay, yeah, that would...be really nice," I said, trying not to get too excited.
We started playing a card game next. Lafayette seemed to be enjoying himself. It was nice seeing him socializing. Sometimes I worried about him, even though it wasn't my place to do so. He just seemed sad sometimes, and alone. I saw a lot of good sides of him since staying at his place, but there was still this wall that he put up. Even as we played this card game, he was like a faded wallflower hidden behind vibrant paintings hanging above him.
After the card game, it was Marion who went to the basement to get some wine from the cellar. When he came back up, he said, "I forgot you had a hot tub. We should bring our swim suits next time and swim."
"That would be fun," Emilio said.
"No," Michael said. "Don't you remember? Lafayette doesn't like hot tubs."
"I don't dislike hot tubs," Lafayette said.
"Well you never want to get in yours and you always make a big thing about it."
"I'm not making a big thing about it," he said defensively.
"Well, we don't have our swimmies today," Don said. "It's okay. Maybe in the future."
"How about next weekend instead?" Carla asked.
"No," Lafayette said.
"See what I mean?" Michael asked. "He has a thing with hot tubs."
"I don't-" Lafayette yelled, but stopped himself. "I don't have a thing, ok? I just don't want to have to clean it and get it ready and I don't want to invite any of you over just so we can go swim in my fucking hot tub."
"You barely wanted to invite us here anyway," Michael said.
"You're right. In fact, I think you're the one that basically forced an invite from me."
Everyone started talking at once, except for me. I had seen Lafayette and Michael bicker before, fight even. I had seen Lafayette yell. And yet, I hadn't seen Lafayette like this. There was something different. Usually he was blank-faced, maybe angry, but this time he almost seemed sad or even panicked. His hands were shaking. He seemed really upset.
"I think we should call it a night," I said, but no one could hear me. I continued. "Guys, I think maybe we should call it a night. It's getting late and..." Everyone was quieting down. "It's getting late and the alcohol is getting to my head and sometimes I...throw up...if I'm stressed, and drunk. So, I don't want to throw up." This wasn't true, but I would rather embarrass myself than have this arguing go on.
After a few minutes, it was just Lafayette and I.
He was facing away from me with his hands on his hips, looking somewhere far away that I couldn't see. I sat on the couch. "It's fine if you have a thing with hot tubs," I said.
"I don't have a thing with-"
"I mean it's fine because I have a thing with sitting on people's laps," I interrupted.
He sighed. "It's not the same thing," he said, turning to face me.
I pushed my cuticles on my thumb with my other thumb. "I think it is the same thing," I said, staring down at my hands. When I glanced up at him, I knew he knew what I meant.
He sat down next to me on the couch without saying anything.
"When I was in high school," I began.
"Em, you don't have to," he said, looking at me.
"It's fine," I said. "But when I was a senior in high school, every fall, the marching band had a bonfire. It was always fun and in the woods and one year, there was this guy, he had graduated the year before but sometimes older kids would join us. Like usually the trip was during a college fall break or something. Anyway, one guy, he came back with some friends. It was pretty late when he came up to me and everyone else was, like, playing hide and seek or something. Anyway, I thought this guy was cute and knew he liked boys too. So, anyway - sorry, I've said anyway like ten times. But anyway, he was flirting with me and he eventually got me to sit on his lap. I thought we were just, you know, going to cuddle and make out or something. But then he like, moved me so his, you know, his-his penis was between my legs. I mean, it was so weird, but he was just, you know, jacking off between my legs, and it was so weird and lame because I was fully clothed but he like, you know, wasn't even touching me because he was touching himself and he finished on my pants, but..." I shrugged. "But yeah, I've never liked sitting on anyone's lap since then."
I kept pushing my cuticles, looking down, my hands shaking. Lafayette was staring at me but I didn't want to look back.
Lafayette said quietly, "Eight years ago, I had some people over. We were celebrating reaching our first million dollars in revenue. It was probably around this time of year even, but luckily I don't remember the day. But, there were tons of people in the house. Some of us went down to the hot tub. Someone had added bubble bath soap, so there were bubbles everywhere. Everyone was drinking and laughing. There was a lot going on, and it was dark down there. I was sitting next to someone that I had known for a few years. He had been an investor. Next thing I know, he grabs my hand and puts it on his crotch and he...you know, he made me jerk him off in the hot tub. No one noticed. It was disgusting. I felt terrible because so many people were in the hot tub and he finished in there, but he wouldn't let go of my hand. I mean, I tried taking it away, but he said he would take the company down, so..."
I pushed against my cuticle one more time, then I looked up at him. He met my eyes. "My thing happened eight years ago around this time of year, too," I said. I was seventeen and he would've been twenty-four. I had never even heard of him back then, and yet we were both going through a terrible time in our lives at the same time, miles away from each other. Did he cry alone later by himself? Did he ask why he was so upset? He didn't even touch me. Did he hide this terrible thing from everyone around him? This was the first time I had ever told someone. "Have you ever told anyone?" I asked. When he shook his head, I said, "Me either."
"I'm sorry you had to go through that," he said quietly.
"I'm sorry, too." I took a deep breath. It happened so long ago. Why was I crying? Was I crying because I was thinking about it? Or was I crying because I was sad for Lafayette? Michael had said that Lafayette stopped having people over years ago. Is this why? Is this why he had a wall up so often? It wasn't fair for him. It wasn't fair.
"Hey, hey," he said, moving closer. "It's okay," he whispered, putting an arm around me.
I found myself leaning into him, his arms around me, rubbing my back. He was hugging me. I cried on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm crying," I said.
"It's okay," he whispered again. He pulled tighter, which seemed to help.
I know it wasn't normal for this to be happening between an assistant and a boss, but in this moment he was not Mr. Jett my boss and I was not Emerson his assistant. He was Lafayette, a troubled man that took me into the comfort of his home and opened up to me. I was Em, an overly-sensitive, overly-emotional over-sharer that needed his comfort. I never believed in fate or destiny, but in this moment in his arms, I knew this was supposed to happen. All of the roads or paths of the universe led to this crossroads in our lives.
"Thank you," I whispered, my tears stopping. I let my head linger, and he didn't make any motion to move his arms. I decided to pull away, but only one hand of his slid away. The other slid down to my lower back, so we were still sitting close, my knees over his thigh. I knew I should have moved away, but I felt almost safe sitting close to him.
Lafayette wiped my cheek with his thumb. "Emmy," he whispered.
I snapped my head up. "Did you call me Emmy?" I asked, then laughed.
He smiled softly, almost bashfully. "I may have," he said. "Sorry, it just came out."
"It's fine. You can call me Emmy. It makes me feel like a girl," I said, putting a hand under my chin like I was posing.
He laughed. "Well, it would probably be best to call you that not in front of everyone," he said. "It can be an...after work nickname."
"Okay, that's fine," I said, smiling. I put my hands on my head like I was holding a tiara. "Emmy. Maybe I should change my drag name to Emmy Lane Houston instead."
"That would be a nice name," he said. "I should come to a show of yours sometime. Maybe I'll bring Michael and everyone, as reconciliation for my outburst."
"Yeah, that would be cool to have you all come see me," I said. "But, you know, your behavior tonight was valid. Like, you don't have to tell them what happened and Michael should've dropped it."
"I know," he said. "I don't know why I've never told them."
I shrugged. "It's hard," I said. "But, they would understand. It's your choice, though. It could help with things."
He nodded. "It could help. It could." He looked at me and said, "Well, it's getting late. I don't want you to get sick, like you said."
I laughed, saying, "Oh, that was a lie. I just needed an excuse to get everyone to leave."
Lafayette laughed, longer than I expected. "Oh man, that's good," he said. "Thank you for lying then. I appreciate it."
"Of course."
We cleaned up the patio and then stood in the doorway of the stairway.
"Good night," I said.
Lafayette smiled softly at me. "Good night, Emmy."