Gaydar

“Let’s swing by one more time.”

Anthony sunk deeper into the passenger seat as he turned a pleading head to Chris. The digital glow of the radio’s LED display lit up Chris’s features, the pale blue blending into his deep complexion. His lips parted to allow a subtle, yet sufficient sigh to escape.

“You said he wasn’t in earlier. I doubt he’d be in now.”

“But that was during the lunch rush,” Anthony tried to rationalize, “he might be working the closing shift tonight. Or maybe he was on break and I had just missed him.” There was a thread of hope that stitched through his words, a prospect that bordered adorable and delusional.

“Do you even know if he’s gay, Anthony?”

“Haven’t had the chance to ask.”

“But does he LOOK gay?”

“Everybody looks gay to me,” Anthony shot back. He noticed the edge in his tone and brought himself down a few dials. “Even you,” he teased with a wink and an extended hand caressing the stubble alongside Chris’s jaw.

“Chill with that shit,” Chris laughed with a raised hand to thwart Anthony's reaching hand. Heat rushed to his cheeks.

Anthony knew what Chris was implying and although it went against what he believed in, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t analyze his mystery man for any signs of queer life. He usually wore his uniform: a red baseball cap with an embroidered logo of the burger joint and a matching red apron adorned with a grease stain or two. Underneath the brim of his dad cap were two deep-set eyes paired with manicured eyebrows handcrafted by his barber. His long eyelashes stuck in clumps along his top and bottom lids like a Maybelline model. Two studs glistened atop of each nostril as they caught the light of the cheap fixtures that swung above the register.

Extremely gay or very Tupac-esque.

Checkers, a nickname unknowingly awarded to him by Anthony, was an enigma that had been teasing at Anthony’s psyche for weeks. It forced Anthony to question eye contact that lasted any longer than 3 seconds. It convinced him to find deeper meaning in Checkers’ thumb grazing his palm as he passed him back his change. And the extra barbecue sauce? What other explanation could there be besides the fact that he wanted to get inside Anthony’s pants?

“Look,” Chris began as he turned his direction from the row of parked cars in front of him to Anthony, “I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

Chris joined the front desk at the doctor’s office Anthony had worked at only a couple of months ago but the two had been inseparable ever since. Anthony had taken on the responsibility of training Chris and it wasn’t long until the two began to spend their weekends shit-talking movies they had watched together in theaters, debating the greatest musicians of all time, and dreaming of hitting the lottery so they would never have to clock in to work ever again. Anthony loved Chris’s carefree attitude. He appreciated how Chris moved on his own terms, a character trait Anthony wished he could inherit.

As outdated as it may seem, it wasn’t easy being cool with someone as expressive as Anthony was. He admired how Chris paid no mind to the dirty looks from the old women at the laundromat or the whispers from the guys playing dominos on the corner by the bodega.

“Who gives a fuck?” Chris always asked. “It’s not like I got to take them home with me.”

Chris studied Anthony. He had a baby face, short and round, with pale skin that flushed whenever the winter air pinched at it. Brown curly hair rested at the top of his head and swung down in front of his forehead kissing the tops of his brows. His eyes were large and glossy, a rich chocolate color that melted seamlessly from iris to pupil. It was those same eyes Chris imagined would flood with tears as his beautiful face would shatter into a million pieces.

“I’ll be fine, Chris,” Anthony reassured, “the worst thing he can do is say no, right?” Anthony’s mouth unfurled into his infamous smile, so wide that his top lip curled underneath itself to flash his top row of teeth.

Chris had no choice but to oblige.

Chris set the car to a low hum, shifted gears, and maneuvered his way out of their parking spot and over to the other side of the lot. Anthony was a fan of Chris’s driving. He was smooth as he glided past pavements and he always found it funny when Chris would have to remind him to wear his seatbelt. He felt as if he was in good hands.

They halted in front of the burger joint, its fluorescent insides pouring into the surrounding night through its glass windows. Anthony leaned over the car’s dashboard for a better look. His eyes squinted aggressively, moving left and right, as he scanned the windows for his future husband. There were a dozen of them behind the counter, all wearing their red caps and aprons, scrambling in unison like an army of ants. After eliminating five of them who didn’t meet the height requirement, four whose arms were bare of any tattoos, and two who had an impressive set of breasts, Anthony found him.

“Okay, let’s roll,” Anthony spoke. After a deep breath and an intense fight with his seatbelt, he had noticed a stationary Chris staring out of the windshield. His head subtlety bobbed to the muddled music rumbling from the sound system, his lips quietly following along to Frank Ocean’s lyrics.

“He’s there, let’s go.” Anthony turned his entire torso to Chris, his hand grabbing at the door’s handle. His gaze was met with Chris’s accompanied with two raised eyebrows sending ripples across his forehead.

“You want me to go with you?” Chris scoffed.

“Yeah, you’re my back up.”

“Back up?”

“You know, like moral support.”

“I don’t know Anthony. I’d rather-“

“Please Chris?”

Anthony’s large eyes widened, softly wavering in anticipation. Chris sucked his teeth and threw his head back against his seat.

The cold air enveloped them as they stepped out of the car and through the swinging doors of the restaurant. Scents of frozen burger patties and deep-fried grease wafted into their nostrils. Leading through the vestibule, Anthony’s footsteps came to a full stop at a line of customers that stemmed from the register and covered the span of the entire dining area. It was long enough to give Anthony enough time to strategize. He brainstormed some approaches. He considered introducing himself but decided it came off too formal, like an interview. He thought about keeping it simple with a suave “sup?” but couldn’t rely on the flamboyance of his voice to pull it off. As the space between him and the register grew smaller and smaller, the more he became uneasy.

“I don’t think I could do this,” Anthony confessed. He reached out and grabbed Chris by his arm before he could take a step closer to the register. His mouth ran dry, his lips becoming taut and dry.

“Anthony, we just waited on line for like -“

“I just can’t Chris.”

Anthony’s eyes clung to the cement tiled floor. Defeat underlined his words, something Chris was familiar with seeing in Anthony.

“Look, how about this. I’ll do all the talking. You just have to follow up and hit him with that smile of yours. Worst thing he can say is no, right?”

Chris set a hand on Anthony’s shoulder and Anthony raised his face to meet Chris’s. He nodded his head yes, a smirk crawling across his face.

By the time they had reached the counter, Anthony had already jammed his headphones into his ears. Classic Donna Summer comforted him in his head but was low enough where he could catch his cue from Chris. He watched Chris approach the counter and offered his hand to Checkers for a dap, the typical greeting between straight men. They spoke for a minute, their mouths catching each other’s words and sending them back. This exchange continued until Chris turned to Anthony and gestured his chin to him. Checker’s eyes followed and met Anthony’s along with a pointed finger at his direction. It was his cue.

He popped out his earbuds and slowly made his way closer to the counter. His hands gripped the lining of his jacket’s pockets.

“What’s up,” Checkers began, “heard you had a question for me.” His voice was smooth and deep, it’s bass vibrating in Anthony’s chest.

“I- I wanted to know if you had a boyfriend.” Anthony spoke through a cracked voice so low that you’d miss it if you thought too hard. He scanned Checkers face for a response and felt at ease when the corners of his mouth began to rise into a smile.

“Follow me,” Checkers whispered as he turned away and made his way through the kitchen. He grabbed at his apron and pulled it over his head, his coworkers gradually turning in curiosity. He walked through the door that separated the dining room and the kitchen and waved a hand to Anthony to follow him. Anthony took a few steps forward, but looked back to see Chris.

Chris didn’t move, his back stood turned to Anthony.

Anthony’s footsteps trailed behind Checker’s as they walked through the vestibule and further into the parking lot. Checkers lead the way around the corner of an old Subway that closed down for finding chicken in their tuna melts. He crossed his arms in front of him as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. As Anthony got closer, Checkers tense body loosened. The corner was only lit by a single lamp post, an orange glow casting down over his face.

“You wanna know if I have a boyfriend?” Checkers asked through a subtle smile. He looked down to the pavement beneath him, his hand tucked underneath his armpits for warmth.

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve seen you a couple of times here and there and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to-“

Before he could finish, a solid fist came crashing against Anthony’s cheek. Anthony, stunned and confused, toppled to the ground. Checkers stood in front of him, his two hands clenched tightly into fists.

“I’m not with that gay shit,” Checkers spit, a rage bubbling behind each word. “Don’t play with me.”

Anthony’s head pounded from the first hit, a rhythm that rattled his brain. He felt the throbbing of his cheek and the pull of its skin as it began to swell. The soft skin of his palms caught the jagged pieces of the concrete and they began to bleed. Fear charged Anthony. He tried to lift himself from the ground but was sent back down with a foot to the side of the temple.

Anthony’s face slid across the gravel, his vision blurring. In his sight, he could see Chris step through the doors of the burger joint. Anthony brought two hands in front of him and slowly lifted his head up from off the ground.

“Chris! Help!” His voice shrieked in desperation.

Chris stopped in his tracks. He turned to look over his shoulder, his eyes fixating on the ground behind him. A few seconds passed before he finally turned to face forward again and made his way to his car.

He couldn’t bear watching Anthony’s beautiful face shatter in a million pieces.