TEN
“What the fuck are you wearing?” Anthony laughed as he stood in the doorway of Roman’s room, looking at him.
“Fuck you,” Roman replied, tugging at the collar on the dress shirt. He hadn’t wanted to look like a piece of shit when he went to the new church, the fancy one with the bells and colorful windows, but Anthony was right—he just looked like a wannabe instead. These clothes weren’t him. Everyone would take one look at him and know that.
“Where’d you get your pretty new shirt?” his brother asked sarcastically.
“I stole it,” Roman told him just as his dad walked by. Roman’s gut clenched. That was almost always his reaction whenever he was in the same room as his father. He couldn’t help but be tense.
He’d hoped to get out of the house before they woke up, but he’d spent too much time in front of the fuckin’ mirror.
“Jesus, fuckin’ look at you. They hire you to be their server for the event? Fake-ass, piece-of-shit son,” his dad mumbled as he continued making his way down the hallway.
He flinched, his body getting tighter. “It’s at the church,” Roman told him.
His dad stopped at that, swatted Anthony on the back of the head, and said, “Don’t give your brother shit for trying to look good for church.”
It would have been fine for Anthony to tease him for any other reason, though. Church was, as always, a different story.
“Yes, sir,” his brother said.
“Come on. I wanna speak to you,” Dad told Anthony.
As they walked away, Anthony’s eyes caught Roman’s, and for a second, he thought he saw regret there, but then it was gone. He knew it was wishful thinkin’ and that it hadn’t been there to begin with.
They disappeared the way they always did, to talk about things they never shared with Roman. Anthony had always been the better son, the stronger one who made their dad proud in ways Roman never did.
What was he thinking, trying to wear this shit? His brother was right; he was stupid.
With a sigh, Roman closed the door, took off the dress shirt and slacks, then put on a tee and an oversize pair of jeans. He grabbed his beanie and pulled it on, the whole time thinking how much he hated his family.
And maybe how much he hated himself too.
♦
People at his church teased him for dressing like a thug, but it was better than getting shit from his family. Roman didn’t care what they thought, but his gut and his desire to be safe made him care about his dad and Anthony.
As they drove to Beverly Hills, he sat by himself, looking out the window. No one tried to sit with him. No one tried to talk to him. They knew when Roman was in a bad mood and wanted to be left the fuck alone.
The day was spent doing bible study and talking about devoting themselves to the Lord. He wasn’t sure why they brought him here, to this rich fuckin’ church. The words sounded the same in this fancy church as they did in his falling-down one.
It was halfway through the day that he saw him—the kid with the judge for a dad. The kid he’d talked to outside the courtroom two years before. The kid his dad and Anthony would hate.
His black hair was cut short, styled neatly, and curly on top. He wore slacks and a dress shirt. For just a second, Roman pretended he was that kid. That he had the things he had and the life, the perfect life, the kid had. One where his dad told him he looked nice and maybe helped him with a tie. One where he sat down with Roman before church instead of disappearing with his brother to talk about things he shouldn’t even think about in church.
Then the kid glanced over at Roman, stared a second before giving him a shy smile and looking away. Roman’s stomach did a strange flip-flop thing he didn’t understand.
What the fuck?
One foot in front of the other, he moved toward the kid, the whole time knowing his dad would hate it…which was what made him want to go over to the kid even more. He was angry at his dad and Anthony about earlier, the things they said and the way they disappeared without him, thinking Roman was too weak for it all. He wanted revenge, and talking to this kid would be that, even though it would also get him hurt if his dad knew. He wasn’t beyond using his fists, or more, to get his message across.
When he got close, their eyes caught. Something sparkled in the kid’s gaze, and Roman stumbled, felt a warmth in his lower belly. He felt his cheeks suddenly get warm too, but didn’t know why in the hell that would happen. “’Sup?” he said.
“Hey,” the kid replied.
“I think we met before, a few years ago.” As soon as he said it, he wished he hadn’t. He didn’t want to remind him or let anyone else here know he was the kid with a criminal father.
“Yeah…yeah, I thought you looked familiar. It was at the courthouse, right? You were…” His words trailed off as though he realized he shouldn’t remind Roman why he’d been there. “That beanie’s sick,” the kid said.
Roman didn’t know if he really liked it or just said that to make him feel better. “Thanks. What’s your name again?” he found himself asking.
“Leo.”
“I’m Roman. Come on. Chill with me today.” When he said it, he realized it wasn’t totally because spending time with Leo felt like a betrayal of his dad. He wanted to know more about Leo. There was something about him, about the way he looked at Roman and the flutter Roman felt that put a strange calmness in his chest, and Roman wanted that. Wanted it more than anything.