“Dad,” said Matt as they left the restaurant. “DAD. Jesus Christ. DAD!”
Tom looked up. “I think I better start going by Nick,” he said, “because it’s weird to be called Dad when I’m only like eight months older than you, and I don’t feel like Tom.”
Just then a woman dropped a bag in front of them. Nick bent down to scoop it up and hand it to her, smiling as he did. The woman winked as she said, “Thanks, young stud.”
“Young stud?” asked Nick as they continued walking.
“You gotta admit, Da… uh… Nick, you’re gonna be pretty attractive to women. You’re young, but you look older than 16 because of the body hair and stubble, and some people have a real fetish for blue collar men. She thinks you’re a hunk.”
“I’m a lawyer!” protested Nick.
“Nick. Look in that shop window at yourself. Do you look like a lawyer? Do you look like you’re going into a courtroom to argue a case? You look like you’re about to put up drywall on the ceiling all by yourself. You’re kind of a rough diamond in that body. Women want to imagine you doing things with them.”
“This is all new to me, I guess. I was never a big looker as Tom. But hey. I need to go get some stuff out of my old office. Can you take the suitcases? I’ll meet you at home.”
Nick thrust the suitcases of clothes at Matt and headed off to the subway station. As he turned the corner, a voice from a building door said, “I know you!”
Nick turned and looked around.
“Down here. You’re the Mind Storage patient, right? You died as a shriveled up old white lawyer and woke up like this?”
Nick looked down and saw a short, wiry young man with a short fade wearing a tank top and short shorts. “Who the hell are you, mang?”
“I’m José. I was Nick’s good time guy before his accident.”
“His good time guy?”
“Damn, you even think like him. We were on the DL, my man.”
“The D…L…?”
“The down low?”
Nick just looked confused. José sighed, walked over to Tom, grabbed him, pulled him into the building, bent him down, and kissed him passionately. Nick, overwhelmed by the sensation, let the smaller man do it.
“Now look down,” said José as he broke off the kiss. Nick looked down and saw that both he and José were sporting wood. “That kind of good time. ¿Comprendes, Mendez?”
Nick smiled deviously, then picked up the smaller man effortlessly and pressed him up against the wall with one hand, kissing him, and rubbing José’s crotch.
“I see you remember,” said José, fondling the young athlete’s enormous pecs. “I’m glad you stayed gay. Sometimes they don’t.”
“I have a wife,” said Nick. “And I had great sex with her yesterday. So if anything I’m bi.”
“Pan,” said José, “you sound like a boomer saying bi. Nick and I were partners ever since we were in eighth grade. He was a really late bloomer, but we made it work.”
“That’s because my parents lied about my age. I’m only 16. So in eighth grade I would’ve been, um, um…”
“Eleven,” said José. “That explains a lot. I had to teach him a lot, because I was mature earlier and had way more experience. And because of football he couldn’t ever come out.”
Nick nodded. “I just found out. And actually earlier today a cop made me fuck him so I wouldn’t get a speeding ticket. It felt good but he looked so OLD. He had to have been, like, thirty.” He clapped his huge bear paw over his mouth.
“What’s going on, big stud?”
“I was in my forties as Tom. I’ve only been like this for two days and already people seem so old. I keep acting more like a teenager. It’s weird.”
“It makes sense,” said José. “They say our brains don’t finish cooking until we’re 25 or even 27. So I have another six years of bad decisions and you have at least ten. Now… speaking of bad decisions… want to come upstairs with me?” He grabbed Nick’s huge bulge, making it twitch.