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Mickey got to the restaurant half an hour early. Mandy had chosen the place and he’d never even heard of it, but letting his sister pick where they had their weekly dinners was always easier than listening to her complain about his poor choice in pubs for the entire night. He decided to take a seat at the bar and have a beer while he waited for her to arrive.
“Hey there, assface,” Mandy said, wrapping her arms around his neck from behind him. “You’re early.”
He spun the stool around and gave his sister a proper hug. It was always a shock seeing her dressed up for work in clothes that looked like they’d been taken right off of an Express mannequin. He still thought of her as the same fuck-the-world, boy-obsessed, pastel-streak-haired teenager she’d been ten years ago, but the tall, beautiful business woman in front of him with her hair done up in a tight, neat bun and a briefcase under one arm was anything but that.
“Come on, let’s get a table,” he said to her, sliding off his stool and reaching behind him to grab his beer.
“Oh wait,” Mandy said, stopping him with a quick yank of his jacket sleeve. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
Mickey looked past Mandy at another woman who was standing just a couple of feet away. She was dressed similarly to his sister and Mickey assumed they worked together. It didn’t take him long to realize that Mandy was attempting to set him up, yet again.
“Hi! You must be Mickey,” the woman said overenthusiastically. “I’m Leslie. Mandy’s told me a lot about you.” She held out her hand while Mickey gave her a quick once-over. She was shorter than him, had her blonde hair in a ponytail and looked to be about double his sister’s weight. He hesitantly shook her hand.
They waited for the hostess to get them a table while making small talk. Leslie was the receptionist at Mandy’s office and had been working for the company for almost two years now. Mandy said it was a shame she hadn’t gotten to know Leslie sooner; she and Mickey were perfect for each other.
For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why his sister was so obsessed with seeing him in a relationship. He tallied Mandy’s failed set-up attempts in his head while Leslie went on and on about the pet cat that she was watching while her little sister was on vacation. This would make eight dates in the past three months.
They followed the hostess to their table and Leslie excused herself to the “little girls’ room.” Mickey waited until she was out of earshot before rolling his eyes at his sister.
“Mandy, you need to cut this shit out,” he started, attempting to keep his voice low. They were in public, after all. She opened her mouth to argue but he wasn’t in the mood for it. He’d had a long-ass day and had been looking forward to unwinding with a couple of drinks. “Stop wasting everyone’s Goddamn time by setting me up on these ridiculous dates. Unless one of them has a fucking hidden cock they forgot to mention, it ain’t gonna work. I’m gay,” he told her, taking a long sip of his beer ‒ anything to not have to look at Mandy’s face.
It had taken Mickey a long time to admit to himself that he was gay, but it had taken him even longer to come out to anyone. He didn’t know what kind of reaction his sister would have. He could see it going either way: disgust at learning that her brother was a faggot who took it up the ass from other guys, or sheer indifference. What he actually got was neither.
“What do you mean, you’re gay?” she asked him in a half-yell, setting her water glass down onto the table. He spun his head around out of instinct, making sure no one had heard her. The restaurant was noisy, but in that moment Mickey heard nothing but the pounding of his heart in his own ears. He lowered the beer and finally looked her in the eyes, which were wide and staring at him through furrowed brows.
“I mean I like guys with dicks,” he told her frankly, the words just pouring out now without a filter. “What the fuck do you think I mean?”
“But…”
She closed her mouth and leaned forward, finally aware that they were in a public setting. “You like girls…” she said conspiratorially. “Fat girls.”
He shook his head a fraction. “Not really though.”
“But Mickey, I’ve seen you going over to Angie Zago’s,” she reasoned. “The summer you got out of Juvie, Iggy wouldn’t shut up about how jealous he was that you got with Cindy Stevens before he did! Rob Parkinson even hooked up with me because he heard from his sister Tiffany that Milkoviches were amazing in bed.”
Mickey could only shrug. He’d been young and had been in denial. When he’d gotten out of Juvie, he’d had a feeling he was gay; it was the only explanation for him being able to get off so easily while on the inside, but he had done everything he could think of to fool himself and his body into thinking it wasn’t true.
“I was kidding myself,” he admitted.
“What about all that lesbian porn you asked me to send you?” she demanded.
He laughed. “Great currency. Worth more than cigarettes.”
She groaned in frustration and looked like she was about to ask him another question when Leslie returned, sliding into the seat beside Mickey. “So? What did I miss?” she asked them, her blonde hair practically bouncing in its ponytail.
“This isn’t over,” she’d mouthed to him before plastering a friendly smile on her face for Leslie.
~ ~ ~
Mandy had gotten past the denial phase pretty quickly, but the anger phase had been a rough one.
She’d come over to his apartment unannounced one weeknight and had reamed into him for keeping something like that from her. “I’m your fucking sister!” she’d screamed. “I could have helped you.” (Helped him with what, he wasn’t quite sure.)
Mickey spent the better part of the following week deflecting his sister’s nosy-ass questions. There was no reason she needed to know about his sexual history or “what kind of gay” he was. He ignored her “shouldn’t you dress better if you’re gay” comments and didn’t respond to her texts asking him if there were any particular gay bars in the area he wanted to go to for drinks that week.
They made plans to meet at an Italian restaurant downtown. Mandy called him about an hour before dinner and told him she would be a little late, but that she’d made the reservation under his name so he could wait for her at their table. He got there on time and ordered a drink while he settled in to wait for her.
Even though Mickey wasn’t looking forward to answering more intrusive questions from his sister, part of him felt a little relieved at finally having told her the truth. For the first time, they could have a real conversation, where he didn’t have to be careful about keeping this gigantic secret from her. He could finally be himself, especially since Mandy had handled the news relatively well.
He was so deep in thought that he didn’t notice the maître d’ walk over to his table with another menu until a redhead slid into the seat across from him.
“Your waiter should be over to take your orders shortly,” he told them before disappearing rather quickly.
“Hey man, this table’s taken,” Mickey said to the stranger while trying to get the maître d’s attention.
“Aren’t you Mickey?” the redhead asked with a sudden confused expression on his face.
Mickey stopped and stared at the guy suspiciously. “...Yeah?”
The stranger visibly relaxed. “Oh good. You had me worried for a sec there.” He reached for the water glass in front of him and took a sip like he belonged there.
“Who the fuck are you?” Mickey demanded, causing the guy to choke on his water.
He coughed, then cleared his throat. “I’m Ian,” he said, as if that should have clarified everything. Mickey waited for more but didn’t get any further explanation, so he shook his head at the redhead.
Mickey could see the gears in Ian’s head turning.
“So... I’m guessing Mandy didn’t tell you about me?”
He shook his head.
“And you had no idea she was setting us up?”
Mickey shook his head again.
“Okay then,” Ian said, looking awkwardly from side to side for a possible exit. “Maybe I should go…?” he asked with a frown.
Mickey’s cell started ringing just as he was about to tell the guy that maybe he should. He glared at the phone in its spot on the table as if it had done something to offend him, while Mandy’s name showed up on the caller ID. He finally reached for it and answered, holding the phone to his ear.
“What?” he growled.
“I take it Ian’s there?” she asked him, and he could practically hear her grinning through the phone.
“Yes,” he answered curtly, stealing a quick peek at the redhead sitting across from him. His green eyes were watching Mickey with worry, still waiting for an answer.
“Isn’t he fucking hot?” Mandy wondered. Mickey gave her an uncomfortable groan as an answer, not wanting to admit to his sister that she was right.
“He is,” she said triumphantly when Mickey didn’t reply. “I knew you’d like him.”
He sighed. “Why do you do this to me?” he asked her, rubbing his free hand down his face, feeling defeated.
“You win some, you lose some, right? Maybe it’s time for a win…” she answered. “Be nice to Ian. His brother’s a partner at the firm and is even cuter than him.”
“Not likely,” Mickey muttered, then covered his mouth with his hand when he realized what he’d let slip to his sister. He hung up as soon as her cackling began on the other end of the line. His cheeks were hot with embarrassment.
He looked up at Ian. “There’s no winning with my sister,” he complained, putting the phone back down. “Can you believe she tried setting me up with the chubby, cat-loving receptionist last week?”
“Leslie?” Ian asked, brows furrowed. “Wait, you went on a date with Leslie?”
He hadn’t bothered remembering her name, but it was familiar when Ian said it. “Mandy brought her to dinner last week,” he explained. “It wasn’t a date.”
“Oh, so you’re bi?” Ian asked.
Their waiter came to the table then, and they had to put their conversation on hold. They listened to the specials before ordering, both choosing the basic, chicken parmesan.
Mickey shook his head once the waiter had left. “I only told her I was gay last week. While the blonde was in the bathroom, actually,” he said with a laugh. “I probably could have kept it from her longer but I was just fed up with her constantly setting me up on dates with the wrong kind of person. Know what I mean?”
“Not really,” Ian said with a shrug. “I’ve been out to my family for a long time. They never had a problem with it…”
“Well, clearly my sister didn’t either. She called me every single fucking night this week, asking me bullshit questions like what my type is.”
“Oh?” the redhead said casually. “What’d you tell her?”
“I didn’t tell her shit,” Mickey spat, annoyance at Mandy returning in quick wave. He told himself to calm down. It obviously wasn’t Ian’s fault his sister was so pushy.
“How did she convince you to come here tonight?” he wondered. “A trick or something?”
It was crazy how quickly Ian’s face went from pale to pink, making his freckles stand out on his cheeks. Mickey hadn’t noticed them before.
“Um, no. Not exactly... I was visiting my brother, Lip, at his office... and she showed me a picture of you… then asked if I’d be interested in going out on a date with you,” he admitted, albeit reluctantly.
“Oh,” Mickey said, feeling equally flustered. So it wasn’t exactly a blind date: Ian had basically just told him that he’d liked what he’d seen in the picture enough to accept going out with him, without knowing a single thing about him.
He was saved from having to figure out what else to say by the arrival of their food, and busied himself with eating for the next few minutes. To tell the truth, despite having been set up countless times by Mandy, Mickey had never been on a real date. He felt like he was at a loss for what to do or say. He would usually let the women do the talking while he fought not to check the time too often. But what did normal people do on dates?
“So Mickey,” Ian said, putting his fork down, “why don’t you tell me about yourself? What do you do for work?”
And so the redhead came up with question after question for him, happily offering his own answers in return. In stark contrast with Mandy’s constant pestering about his personal life or how his week went, Mickey didn’t feel like Ian was harassing him in the slightest, and their conversation flowed naturally after its initial, bumpy start.
Before he knew it, they had both finished their meals.
“Should we order dessert?” Ian asked.
Mickey made a face. He wasn’t exactly having a bad time ‒ far from it. He and the redhead had actually connected, and he would have been happy if Ian wanted to stay at the restaurant and talk longer… but he would be happier to leave.
“Do you really wanna sit here and chit-chat more while we eat shitty, overpriced dessert? Or do you wanna come over to my place?” he suggested with a smirk.
He didn’t have to wait long for an answer: Ian was already motioning for the waiter to bring them the check.