Black Diaries

18. Out in the Open

My eyes slowly slid over the figure on the brochure cover. There was quite a lot of it—the figure, I mean, not the brochure. Not that the guy was fat. On the contrary. You could hardly imagine anyone who had less fat in a single cell of his body. On the other hand, he was quite well-equipped in the muscle department.

For a few moments, my eyes wandered appreciatively over the fine figure. Hey, yes, I had a boyfriend, but come on, give a girl a break . Everyone can appreciate a fine figure—from a purely artistic standpoint, of course.

Then I remembered that Chuck had given me this brochure, and I wondered if he admired the guy's figure, too.

I looked up.

"Is this your way of telling me you're gay?"

"Cassy!"

Never in my life had I seen Chuck's face so red. It was quite impressive. He could have beaten tomatoes and beet roots any old time.

Quickly, his finger darted forward, tapping on the caption on the brochure cover. "Did you even read this?"

Admittedly, I hadn't. My attention had been a bit distracted by the half-naked Adonis. Now, however, I firmly squashed down my estrogenic instincts and read:

New York City, 22nd Amateur Fitness Contest

"Oh," I said.

"Yes, Oh." Chuck threw me a look which could only be described as censorious.

"Um... I'm sorry. About the gay thing, I mean. I didn't mean to offend you or anything."

"Cassy—"

"Not that there would be anything wrong with you being gay. I don't have anything against gay people. I don't like rainbows much, but gay people are great. So, if you were gay, it wouldn't be a problem with me."

I hesitated, realizing what I had just said.

"Actually, it would," I corrected myself hurriedly, "I mean, if you were gay, you and I couldn't, um... you know. And I really like, um... to..."

"Yes," Chuck nodded, solemnly. The way the corners of his mouth were twitching, though, made me suspect he was trying not to laugh. "I really like umming with you, too."

Now I was the one whose face was red! Wasn't he was the one who had just handed me the brochure with a half-naked guy on the cover? This wasn't fair! I decided to turn the tables right then and there.

"So what's this about?" I asked, tapping on the brochure.

"Well... you might have noticed I'm really into fitness. Training and fighting and stuff."

I gazed at Chuck, lifting one eyebrow. Even sitting completely relaxed at the breakfast table, with all his clothes on, I could discern the hard ridges of his muscles under his shirt. "I think I noticed something of the kind. We had the lights on while umming last night, if you remember."

"Yes, well... I thought, if I'm into that kind of stuff, why not go? I mean, musicians go to competitions, so do designers and race car drivers. Why not fitness trainers?"

He waited just long enough for me to open my mouth, then hurried on before I could say a thing.

"It's just an amateur thing, of course, nothing like real bodybuilding. I don't think I'd manage that unless I swallowed a bucket full of steroids. But still... I'd like to compete. Do you think my, um... physique is good enough to—"

"It is."

He bit his lip. "That's very nice of you to say, but I don't want you to pretend just because you don't want to hurt my feelings. I know I don't look nearly as perfect as I could be if I did real bodybuilding, and the jury—"