The Ride of Our Life

When not building my online presence as O. Black, I work in a real estate firm. Kindred, my coworker turned best friend, comes and leans a hip on my desk. I look up, meeting his gaze, and say, “Is Marie still on board with you doing our road trip?”

Kindred wistfully smiles and says, “Yes, she told us to have fun. I’m looking forward to watching you interact with your…fans?”

Kindred pauses because he’s never been a guest or anything, though he has seen my show. When he admitted to listening, I was shocked. He didn’t seem the type to follow me. Most of my followers are gamers, underground musicians, or followers of a gamer/model named Sophie E. Ivey.

Grinning like an idiot, I say, “Followers, but yeah, it’s going to be great. I’ll be at your place no later than 11, and we can head out. I appreciate you driving. When you get tired, I’ll stop the stream and take over.”

“For a chance to see the O. Black in action, the pleasure is all mine. You ready?”

“Yup.”

Once home, I can’t sleep even after jumping online and testing a few games. I practice the game that I will be playing at the convention, and one of my gamer friends manages to serve me a loss. Luckily, that skilled friend would not be playing against me at the con. Sleep finally tugs on me, and I head to bed.

The following day I pull up in front of Kindred’s home and send him a “here" message, set up my camera, and log into my Talent.com account.

Unmuting the mic, I say, "Welcome, to the O Universe. It's your boy, O. Black. Come in. Let's get ready for this adventure."

I cue up my intro music and greet my top fans. The air in my ride gets super chilly, so I turn it down before I start shivering.

The last thing I want to do is to appear nervous. Leaning back in my seat, ensuring the frame is the way I need it to be, I say.

“A little fanboy backstory, four years ago, some people rearranged my face. After my attack, I stayed indoors and watched Sophie’s podcast. I put the h in hideous. And yes, I am vain.” I wink at the camera.

“I tried Sophie’s makeup line, and it not only covered the scars, but I got lots of compliments online and in my daily life. Sophie said I could at the very least look good even if my fear was still locked in harder than a cheat code on a cheap system. The “cheap system” comment instantly made me aware that Sophie E. Ivey wasn’t just a gamer but also the supermodel I’d followed for years.

Anyone that follows me knows I don’t agree to ads for stuff I don’t use, so here we go. The SEI makeup line is my best friend. It makes me look like a human after hours of gaming instead of a ghost. If you don't believe me, here is me this morning before applying this great product."

I pull up the before picture. Comments on my chat feed explode. With, "No way,"

"Damn, I thought you were tanned"...

Smiling, I say, "If you go to the link below and type O Universe, you'll get 10% off."

I watch the website banner disappear and launch what I have planned.

"Today, in the O Universe, we are going to be traveling to Dark Imagining's Gaming convention."

I glance at the message portion of my screen and respond to one of my top fans.

"Good question Red Carpet. The short answer is yes, a friend will be joining me. He loves to drive, and if we find anything while moving, I'll be able to record without crashing."

KoK: Why did you cut your hair? You look nervous. Is he a crush or an O Universe member?

I turn my head, showing the Universe my artfully done topknot.

"KoK, my hair reaches the middle of my back. I'm not trying to look like a crash test dummy driving across town. Oh, and no, we are work friends. His name is Kindred."

I glance out the window at Kindred's home. He's 6’8 to my 5'8. Kin has broad shoulders, a trim waist, and this curtain of onyx hair that hit right above his tight ass. He turns around from locking his door and starts walking with that graceful swagger that only he can pull off. As he approaches, I say, "He's all yours," pointing at the seat I have just let back as far as it will go in my new black Nissan Rogue.

Kindred grins, showing off deep dimples as he eyes the camera set up. His face falls a bit as he gazes at me.

“Please answer me this, friend. Did you travel here while only half paying attention to the street?"

He stands with his thumbs hooked into belt loops of tight blue jeans. He's wearing a cologne I like. It smells fantastic. I suddenly wish I’d worn something a bit more comfortable for the drive. I have to get out of my head and say something before making this awkward.

With a cheeky grin, I say, "No. the O Universe and I were waiting for you to come out."

He slides in the car, shaking his head. I climb in the passenger seat and start responding to the messages missed while outside the vehicle. Adjusting the camera, I reply to top fans and thank them for their internet donations. I include Kindred in the conversation by turning on audio request mode, so I don’t have to read the feed at warp speed. He responds to the many audio comments about the convention since this is his first.

Kindred is happy I’m glad he seems to be having fun, and my page is getting significant traffic. At a glance, I am shocked that it’s getting late.

I see an audio request pop up with a new subscriber’s name. “An O Universe follower has a question, Kindred.”

Kindred smirks and says, “Let’s hear it.”

I squint at the name because it’s so unoriginal and say, “Go ahead “KyleS.”

Kindred glares at my phone, then at me, to which I shrug and listen to the oldest sounding follower I have as KyleS snarls, “Kindred? Do you like M&Ms?”

The temperature in the car seems to drop, as Kindred frostily replies, “Leave them out of this.”

I’m stunned not only by the question but also by Kin’s mood switch.

“Ok, that was weird. Mods, please handle whatever that was.” I watch the screen and see that KyleS is now red, which means the moderators and I are the only ones who can see him.

Hearing my engine rev, I notice we are officially out of cruise control and a solid 15 miles over the speed limit. I prepare to comment on Kindred’s lead foot. As I open my mouth, he yells at me.

"Do you have to do that the entire journey? I'd prefer not to converse with you while in front of the Universe.”

I wince at his tone and slide the audio-in function off. The last thing I need is for another follower to piss Kindred off more. I don't want to see my friend go nuclear while navigating my two-ton vehicle with us inside on the highway. Kindred’s grip on my steering wheel is so harsh I fear he’s going break it off in his hands. He is also sitting rigid in the seat like any response will set him off.

The O Universe starts filling the comments with lyrics to “Shut up and Drive” by Rhianna for Kindred not wanting to talk in front of them. Not only is this not the time, but I don’t let stuff like that go on my podcast because I have been on the other side of the creator /follower curtain, and it’s not a good look to let your audiences chew up and spit out your guest.

I politely but firmly say. "Guys, I was going to sign off soon anyway. We’ve been streaming for 9 hours except for pit stops. And even then, if a store was selling something super cool, we gave the place some O Universe love. Kin is my friend, not just driving me, so please cool it with the sing-along. Be ready for part two tomorrow. O. Black, out." After turning off the equipment and hooking it to the charger, I turn in my seat to face my friend.

"Done, so what's wrong? I mean, the candy question was weird but not something to get mad about."

Kindred sighs and says, "Nothing, I'm sorry.”

I give him my “yeah sure” face and say in my fake chipper voice. “Right, because you usually switch moods faster than I leave work on Fridays.”

Kin doesn't say anything. We ride in silence, and for the first time since we met, this quiet time is heavy, at least for me. I don’t know what else to say. I’m a smart ass, but only when I feel comfortable enough to be one. I sigh as I stare longingly at my phone. I have nothing to do, and talking to Kindred is not happening. My anxious nature sets in, and as I reach for my phone, Kindred speaks.

On a shuttering breath, he simpers, “Olly, it's not your problem.”

Kindred is the only person outside of my family who calls me Olly without making me cringe. Seeing tears roll down his face makes me almost tear up, which I don't want to do. "Take this exit."

He pulls ahead of a semi. Looking over, I cringe as I notice the wheels are too close to my door.

He says, “I’m ok.”

It’s been my experience that driving with emotional people at the wheel can be dangerous. He is coming undone, and I don’t want to be a splat on the highway. We get too close to the truck ahead of us. My words are out before I can make them sound like a suggestion. “Take this exit. I don’t need you crashing my ride!!!”

Kindred pulls into the dilapidated-looking rest area and gets out of the car with a sigh. Great, now I’ve pissed him off. For a moment, I sit watching him pace from one end of the darkening parking lot to the other. I look up at the sky for answers—nothing but sizable angry-looking clouds up there. A storm is brewing in the sky and inside, my friend. Kindred has been my buddy since he came to the office a year ago. He’s upset I’d like to help him, but I don’t even know why he’s angry. I also don’t want to be the one who makes him redirect that anger at me.

A chill runs up my spine. I once pissed off a guy that I was dating, and to this day, I have no idea what I did. Or what I could have done to prevent him from giving me a facial by fist. I’m not dating Kindred, but since my ex attacked me, trying to talk to an angry person, even one I see as a friend, still unnerves me. It’s getting late, and we need to get to the hotel. I can’t keep sitting here. I don’t think being at a bathroom-only rest stop with broken signage everywhere in the evening is something I want to experience.

Getting out, I hear Kindred screaming at someone on his phone. Moving closer, I realize Kindred’s words are not in English. Whoever he’s yelling at is getting cussed out in the Spokane dialect. I am easing back to the vehicle since I don’t want someone stealing my ride and trapping us here. Kindred suddenly turns around and locks gazes with me.

Once again, my dry mouth starts moving before thought can solidify. "I…I'm Sorry, Kindred. I didn’t hear anything. Um, we have to get going. I'll drive."

Kindred walks back towards me and then passes me as he gets in the passenger seat. Closing my eyes, I try to take a breath and let it out slowly. I am anxious, and I hate feeling like this.

I get in, turn on my GPS and pull off toward the highway. This trip was fantastic until I somehow ruined it. I can feel my face heating. I keep trying to figure out what I could have done differently. I have hundreds of thousands of followers, but I can count my trusted friends on one hand without using my thumb.

Kindred mumbles, “Oliver, I'm sorry for my behavior back there.”

I sigh, “It's fine, I don’t know what happened, but something is totally eating you.”

As I park, Kindred mutters, “It’s Marie.”

My thoughts go in many directions as I freeze and stare at him. That probably would explain why he was screaming in Spokane. Marie is his wife. I don’t like her, but I’m not married to her. If she changed her mind and wanted him to come back right this minute or something, that would leave me in a bind. She has ruined three of our road trips so far, and this trip looks like her fourth. Kindred assured me yesterday that he had spoken to his wife, and they agreed that he could do this drive. Though I feel myself growing irritated, I try my hand at fun and smile - wagging my eyebrows, "I didn't need to know your wife eats your ass.”

Irritation soaks his tone as Kindred barks, "What?!!!"

Uncertainty makes me stammer, "I -I was kidding. I didn't mean anything by it."

He sighs and says, "Sorry, Olly, Marie is cheating on me with a rich rancher named Kyle. M&Ms are what I call my twins Mara and Marvin.”

Stunned, I sit with my mouth hanging open then sigh. “Wow, I didn’t see that coming. I mean, are you sure she’s cheating?”

Running a hand through his hair and pulling so hard it looks painful, Kindred snarls, “I don’t just suspect that my wife cheated; I caught them this morning. Marie was open to me going on this journey. Now, I suppose I know why. I go for my usual morning run, and when I return, I notice the door to my garage is ajar. Walking closer, I hear moaning. I whip open the door and see that little pale bastard fucking my wife.”

Kindred accentuates his last statement by letting go of his hair and slamming both fists on my dashboard.

I flinch at the furious gesture. I get why Kindred is angry, but I have never seen him this irate, and because of my past, I tense and stay quiet. At the sound of impact, I knew without any doubt that if he ever hit me that hard, I’d die. When he moves his hands back into his lap, I stare unblinking at the indention he’s left in my dashboard.

“Holy crap.” I manage to breathe out softly.

Kindred returns his attention to where my gaze is on the spot, his hands hit. With a quick turn of his head. I have no clue what he is thinking. I fear that my last two words are like a match for the kindling of his current mood. My mouth goes on autopilot. “It’s no big deal. I’m sorry she did that to you. I’m going to stop talking. I’m sorry.”

He pins me with his gaze. With a bit of huskiness in his usually even baritone, Kin breathes, "Don't be sorry. Maybe I've been deluding myself. “He leans closer to me as he lowers his gaze to my mouth.

Until Kindred breaks eye contact, I feel entranced. When he puckers his lips, I lean away from him and say, "I know your hurting, but I don't want to contribute to the end of your family."

Kindred’s eyes pop open and narrow at me as he sneers, “You can’t end something that has been destroyed.”

I open my mouth, but my words won’t cooperate. Kin gets out of the car and grabs his bags. I do the same. We head inside; after getting the cards for the suite with two queen-sized beds, we move toward our room with a heavy silence sitting between us.

Inside our room, the feeling of being watched strikes my already hyperaware ass. Turning, I see Kindred sitting on the side of his bed, watching me. His intense scrutiny makes me stumble over my suitcase.

Kindred gets to his feet. I wave him away and groan. “I’m fine.”

I push the suitcase out of my path and sit in the little office chair near the desk because sitting on my bed would put me right in front of my friend. The more I think about what he said in the car, the more feelings of hurt and anger ride me.

Kindred breaks the silence. “Do you want something to eat? My treat? It's the least I can do for all the trouble I have put you through today.”

“I’m not hungry. I think I’m going to drive around and clear my head.”

I rise and head to the door. Kindred stands and blocks my path, peering at me with a sidelong glance.

“You’re not thinking of trapping me here because….”

As I fight back the tears, my words erupt in a scream. "Why the hell do you think I would trap you anywhere? I’m not into getting fired or losing a friend.”

Kindred looks alarmed and sad as he steps back, leaning on the door.

He says, “Oliver, yes, I recently made partner but, I can’t, nor would I fire you. Is that the reason you don’t want me?”

I point at him and bite out, “That’s not fair. Kindred, I didn’t let you kiss me because I like you more than I should have ever allowed myself to like anyone. You want to hear me say I like you. I fucking dream about you. But you don’t want me.” He moves towards me, and his expression is one of hurt.

Kindred sobs, “Olly, I do….”

Hugging myself, I continue. “You’re understandably hurt right now. All you want is revenge sex. When you are happy with Marie again, you’ll at best tell me when you no longer want my attention. Worse case, I end up a perfect target for your misplaced anger. I love that you don’t judge me for being gay, but Kindred, you're not gay, and if at the last minute you found your homophobia as my ex did, I fear that a hospital bill would be the least of my worries because if you ever hit me as hard as you struck my dashboard, you’d kill me.”

Kindred steps back and sits on the dresser. Lowering his gaze to his bruised hands where my car fought back, he looks up at me, and for a split second, everything inside me tells me to run. But I’m frozen in place because once again, I get stuck in the power of his gaze.

Kindred slowly walks over and sits on his bed with a small sigh. When he starts speaking, I know that I hurt his feelings from his tone.

“Oliver, I’m not your ex. I’m sorry you got hurt, but please don’t go through life believing that every person who shows you kindness wants to hurt you. That is what is not fair. Not fair to you or me. You’re right, I’m not gay, but I’m not as heterosexual as you think. I’m bisexual. I like you, and I have liked you ever since I met you. The last thing I would ever do is try to hurt you. I also know that this probably sounds like I just want you for a moment in time. But when I said maybe I have been deluding myself, I meant that maybe I was trying so hard to be the perfect image of a great husband and father that maybe my attraction to you was more visible to my wife than to myself. I’m not saying I would act on any thoughts that sprung to mind about you if my marriage was as attractive as it appeared from the outside looking in. You assume that there is a chance that I would be able to erase the image burned into my brain of my wife screwing the rancher. I don’t think Marie is that hard up for fresh produce. I missed the neon signs that my wife was cheating. Because when I’m with you, no matter what we are doing, I enjoy just being near you.”

“Please don’t blame me,” I whisper.

Kindred flops back on his bed, covering his face with his hands as his voice wavers, and I know he is crying as he says in a mournful tone, “Olly, I’m not blaming you for anything. You did nothing wrong. I should blame myself. I apologize for putting that look of trepidation in your eyes with my actions and words. I’ll understand if you can’t forgive me, but I pray that you can because I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”

The sound of Kindred’s sobs shreds me to the point of tears. I get up. He looks up at me and cries. “Oliver, even if you can’t forgive me, please don’t leave me here.”

I walk towards him. He sits up, wiping his face with the backs of his hands.

“Kindred, stop that, or you’ll get salt in the bruises and have scars on your hands. I’m not going anywhere. So please stop making me feel like shit for thinking that I would ditch you on a trip that I invited you to.” I sob as I grab a medicated wipe from my bag and hand it to him.

Grabbing one for myself, I wipe my face and take a few deep breaths. After I calm down and no longer sound like a pitchy Muppet, I sit next to Kindred and say, “I won’t lie today freaked me out because I didn’t know what was going on. I’ll forgive you if you forgive me for comparing you to my ex. You are nothing like him. As much as we know about each other, there are lots we don’t know, but I’m willing to learn if you are. ”

“Fair enough, now can I please feed you? I feel terrible about how I behaved today.”

I know it’s not fair to compare, but a meal after a fight was what got me so drugged up that it took three months to fully remember the attack my ex and his crew launched on my ass. I don’t want to start that pattern with anyone else, especially not Kindred.

“Kindred, how about I order us some food, and I can practice the game I will be playing at the con. I don’t feel like going anywhere anymore, and there is a level that I suck at and want to see if I can find some combo not to get my ass handed to me in front of my followers.”

“Sounds like a plan. Maybe you can teach as you play.”

The rest of the night is thankfully uneventful.

The following day we head to the convention. I win first place, which is a cash prize. When I step out of the winner’s circle, Kindred runs over, hugs, and congratulates me. I involuntarily stiffen but force myself to seem relaxed. Since most people don’t touch me, I never tell anyone about my fear of being touched. Kindred finally releases me, and the tension in my chest eases. I give him one of my practiced smirks. It works because he’s still smiling.

The End