Chapter TWO

 

 

Raymond

 

MY PLAN had been to slip out of the house undetected to avoid the inevitable conversation with Michael because I knew it would devolve into a screaming match. My brilliant strategy was shot to shit when I slept well into the morning after a busy night of moping and watching porn to cheer up. I could have slept even longer, but the doorbell jolted me out of a weird dream about being lost in a department store. The sound of a familiar voice floating up the stairs chased away the last traces of sleep.

I had no idea why David was in my house. From upstairs, I could hear him talking to Michael by the front door. After a moment of Michael sounding increasingly dismayed, I heard David’s quick footsteps bounding up the stairs. My door burst open—because even upper-class kids from Connecticut didn’t knock—and with a sunny smile, David stepped into my dungeon. Between the blond hair, tanned skin, and tight white-and-blue ensemble, he looked fit for a yacht rather than my bedroom.

I groaned and rolled over, covering my head with a pillow. “Why?”

“Why not?” My door clicked shut, and the bed rocked as David plopped down next to me. “I’m not teaching summer school, so I have nothing better to do than coming to see your charming face.”

“Go away,” I muffled out. “I’m busy.”

“You look super busy.”

“I’m busy willing multiple people to be hit by cars.”

“Am I on the list?”

“No. But you could be.”

He snickered. There was a rustling sound and two thumps that sounded suspiciously like shoes hitting the floor. Then David wriggled under the sheet to cuddle up to me. I tensed. David plastering his body all over mine wasn’t new—the guy was like a heat-seeking missile and seemed to constantly crave physical contact—but I was normally fully clothed for our impromptu cuddle sessions. Now, I had on nothing more than a pair of briefs. Not that he cared. He rubbed his face against my shoulder like a cat.

“Wake up or I’ll do the lamprey thing all day. I don’t have anything else to do.”

“I’m fucking naked, dude.”

“I don’t care. I’ve seen naked men before. Lots of them.”

“Ugh.” I peeked at him from under the pillow. “I need a rape whistle.”

David removed the pillow from my head and shoved it under his own, making himself right at home. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve given up on us ever playing hot-intruder-and-innocent-twink sex games.”

“What the hell?”

He smoothed my long hair back so he could get a full view of my grumpy, sleep-creased expression. “You know—role-playing. You’re the scary but smoldering intruder, I’m the defenseless gay boy, you came for the goods but help yourself to my ass….”

“Why do I have to be the intruder? That’s some racist bullshit.”

David smirked. “I like how you’re more worried about my fantasies being PC than the fact that you bang me in them.”

“I already knew you were a sick bastard considering….”

Bringing up his one-night stand with my brother and Nunzio was just awkward. We both knew it had happened, but we never talked about it, even if I had no idea why it was such a big deal. It wasn’t like I cared what the hell they’d done a year ago while almost blacked-out drunk. As far as I knew, Nunzio was the only one with a lingering problem. But judging by the way David’s mouth tightened, it seemed as though he didn’t like hearing about it either.

I pinched his side and changed the subject.

“Did you lock the door?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

David settled on the bed and looked around my room. He’d been over several times in the past couple of months, but only when Michael was staying with Nunzio. They didn’t know a lot about our friendship, and I liked it that way. David seemed to understand. Maybe he knew Michael would question how we had gotten so close, and act weird about it.

“You wrecked your room again. Good job, Ray.”

“Wrecking shit is what I do best.”

“How dramatic.” David went back to petting my hair. “When’s the last time you did laundry?”

“I dunno, Mother. Like, two weeks ago? Feel free to get on top of that shit.”

“Am I going to be paid for my services?”

“Getting to touch me is payment enough, to be honest. Do you know how many people get to lounge around in my bed like they belong here?”

David looked at me, intrigued. “How many?”

“It’s between the numbers negative one and one.”

The response put a smile on his face that could have given me cavities. David was a sap, but it was infectious, and I grinned back.

“I knew you liked me best.”

I closed my eyes. “Uh-huh.”

David inched closer until we had no space between our bodies. He pressed a kiss to my jaw. It was brief, innocent, but the feel of his soft lips was enough to send Nunzio’s comments flooding back into my head. The chaste peck burned against my skin, searing down to thicken my morning chubby. I kept my eyes shut, not letting my expression so much as twitch, even as I pressed my crotch harder against the mattress. I’d hoped my poker face was working, but when I slit my eyes open, I found him scrutinizing me.

“What?”

“Just pondering on the unfairness of how you can wake up looking this gorgeous.”

I scowled. “Stop being so extra.”

David rolled his eyes and withdrew his hand. “Fine. Did you talk to Michael yet? You never answered me.”

“No, and I don’t want to. In fact, I need to get out of here before he starts in on me about something other than unemployment.”

He frowned with disapproval. “You can’t keep avoiding this and lying to him. These things happen. You’ll find another job.”

The idea of Michael shrugging it off and saying “these things happen” was ridiculous. He was going to be disappointed to the nth power. He’d revert to taking potshots at me about being lazy and worthless. Every ounce of respect I had gained since our father’s death would evaporate one molecule at a time until we couldn’t stand being in the same room together. And it was my own fault.

“I’m just going to go out.”

“Where?”

“Dunno.” I rolled over and got to my feet, not so discreetly adjusting my dick once my back was to him.

“You could come to lunch,” David suggested. “Karen and Charles invited me, but I told them I was busy.”

I fished a pair of jeans out of the tangle of discarded clothing on the floor. “Nah.”

“Oh, c’mon. My friends are starting to think I’m making you up,” David complained. “Charles only believes me because he knows Michael.”

“If your people think you have imaginary friends, they ain’t friends.”

He lapsed into silence just as my doorknob uselessly twisted. David shot me a questioning look, and I nodded at him to unlock it.

If Nunzio thought the idea of me and David hanging out was weird before, I had no idea what was going through his mind when the door opened to the sight of me shirtless and zipping up my jeans. And after burrowing into my side like a puppy, David was distinctly more disheveled than he had been a few minutes ago. I looked over my shoulder and almost laughed at Nunzio’s startled expression.

“What?”

“I made breakfast.” Nunzio eyeballed David. “I guess you can have some too.”

“How can I refuse such an invitation?” David replied. “Don’t strain yourself setting out an extra place. I already ate.”

“Good.” Nunzio looked him up and down once more, shook his head, and left the room.

“Remind me not to have any coffee either,” David said. “He’ll poison it.”

“It’s possible. Listen, I’m going to jump in the shower. You can wait in here or go downstairs and deal with that shit by yourself. Up to you.”

Unsurprisingly, he stayed, even though my showers typically took seven years due to my hair, but it was better than sitting at the kitchen table while Nunzio cracked constant jokes and made side comments as Michael looked on with embarrassment. Goddamn soap opera.

By the time I got out, he’d gathered my laundry and was straightening my entertainment center. Knowing David, he did it more out of a compulsive need for order than an actual desire to please me. He was also stalling because Nunzio made him nervous. I didn’t blame him. Nunzio could be intimidating when he wanted to be.

I dragged David out of the room and away from the engaging task of alphabetizing my games while he muttered about not needing to be present to watch me eat. It was true, but I knew breakfast was going to turn into the house-renting conversation, and I hoped David’s presence would deter Michael.

Fat. Fucking. Chance.

“I know Nunzio warned you already,” Michael said as soon as I entered the room. He seemed to give zero fucks about David hanging around during this debacle. “And I know you’re trying to avoid it by hiding in your room and calling backup.”

“I came on my own,” David protested. He rested his arms on the counter and peered over the island. It looked like he was preparing for trench warfare. “I don’t even know what’s going on right now.”

I heaped eggs and bacon onto a plate, inhaling the smell, and temporarily ignored my brother. Starting the morning with a big breakfast while sun streamed in through the pale yellow curtains was ideal, but the cozy setting was already looking like deception. Michael knew I was more amenable to his lectures if I was well fed.

“Where’s the bread?”

Nunzio pointed a fork at a paper bag full of bagels and wisely chose to stay silent as Michael sat at the table across from him and geared up for the oncoming speech.

“I know you’re upset,” Michael went on, not touching his own food. “But it’s not like I’m suggesting we should sell the house. It will still be ours.”

David cocked his head to the side quizzically, but he refrained from commenting.

“¿Raymond, me escuchas?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m listening.” Ignoring the impatient look Michael hurtled at me, I held up a bagel for David. “Want one?”

“Um. No.”

“Fine.” I took one for myself and walked around the counter to where he was blocking the toaster. “Move.”

“The phrase is excuse me.”

I smacked his ass hard, and he jumped, scrambling out of the way. A flush crept up David’s neck and over his face, but he didn’t seem too upset. I got the feeling he liked it when I manhandled him.

“You’re a jerk.”

“Shut up and sit down,” I said.

“Why don’t you leave me alone and pay attention to your brother?”

“Good idea,” Michael said. He was looking between me and David with the same suspicious expression Nunzio had worn when he’d barged into my room. “What’s going on with you two?”

“Nothing is going on,” David said, giving one of his massive eye rolls. “Why do you have to keep asking that same question? Do you think I’m trying to turn him gay?”

“Did I say that?” Michael demanded.

“You’re implying it.”

“Why are you so defensive?” Nunzio piped up, smirking like he had a secret.

David shot me a frown that was equal parts questioning and uncomfortable. He looked out of place next to my, Michael’s, and Nunzio’s hulking forms, and his country club outfit clashed with the old-fashioned kitchen. I’d eliminated a lot of the religious décor in the past few months, but the walls were still crowded with displays of giant wooden utensils, island-themed art, and drawings of coquí frogs on every available piece of fabric.

“Okay, leave him alone already.” I dropped my plate on the table with a clatter and put the toasted bagel on top. “This nagging big brother shit hasn’t been cute since I was twelve, so quit busting David’s balls and say whatever you have to say, since you can’t wait until we’re alone.”

“Nunzio is family,” Michael pointed out. “And David, well, apparently you like him enough to let him loll around in your bed.”

I gave Nunzio a dirty look over the rim of my coffee cup. He winked.

“Enough bullshitting.” David’s voice switched from mellow to authoritative. I wondered if he used that tone with Michael at work since he was some kind of grade-team leader or fake supervisor or something. Michael didn’t seem to mind David’s alleged authority, but in the beginning, Nunzio had bitched about him enough for them both. “If I’m sitting in on this conversation, I want to know what’s going on. If you’re not suggesting the house be sold, what do you want to do?”

Michael released a slow exhale. “Rent it.”

“Why?” David fired the question out before I could speak. “Is it because you want to live with Nunzio?”

After a brief hesitation, and a mushy look exchanged between the two lovebirds, Michael inclined his head. “Yes.”

“So why can’t he move in here?” David tucked his fist under his chin. “Is it the neighborhood?”

“Of course it is,” I butted in. “He’s too good to live around here. Needs to be Mr. Manny-hatty.”

Michael leaned back in his chair, glaring. “It’s not about being too good for anything. David’s right—I hate this neighborhood. I hate getting off the train and having to see the same losers I’ve been seeing on the corner since I was a kid. And I hate that it’s starting to look shabbier and shabbier, but I also want to move because we’re way out here in carajoland and I work in the middle of Brooklyn. You don’t understand because you drive.”

“You could get a car,” I pointed out. “No one’s telling you to hop your ass on the train every day like a sucker.”

“If I didn’t have other debt, I would.”

“Well, no one told you to use mad credit cards and go to college and have student loans either.”

David gave me a look of impatience that rivaled Michael’s. “Can you be serious, Raymond? He’s obviously stressed out about this, and you’re being a big baby.”

I packed my bagel full of bacon and eggs and declined to comment. Pointing out how David was taking the wrong side would only prove that I was a big-ass baby, but I’d expected him to have my back, considering Michael wanted me to fuck off to some unknown destination just so he and Nunzio could play house.

I shoveled food into my face while the silence lingered. In my peripheral vision, I could see Michael, mouth pinched at the sides and face etched with frown lines, as he stared at the table instead of touching his breakfast. I hadn’t seen him so uptight in months, and I wondered if he was stressed out by the conversation. About having to depend on me to agree so he could go live his life however he wanted to live it.

The last thing I wanted to do was hold him back; I just didn’t know where that left me. The suggestion was coming out of the blue after our lives were finally stabilizing, but maybe I was the only one who’d felt that way. Maybe Michael had felt trapped all along. The thought made my food taste like ash.

“I don’t know what to do,” I said. “I’m sorry, but I feel like you’re backing me into a corner. Where am I supposed to go?”

“We could help you find an apartment,” Nunzio said. “Somewhere closer to your job.”

“Yeah, about that….”

David nodded encouragingly and gave me the big doe-eyed look of someone who was way too optimistic about the fate of this conversation. Bless his heart.

“Just tell them,” he said. “It’s important.”

“Tell us what?”

I could tell by the tone of Michael’s voice that he’d already figured it out. Somehow, based on those few words, he knew.

“I lost my job. Kinda.”

“Wha—” Nunzio started, but Michael cut him off. “¿Cómo?”

Wincing, I choked down a massive chunk of bagel without daring to look up. When Michael switched to Spanish, it meant trouble.

“I messed up, okay? We don’t need to get into the details.”

“Raymond,” Michael said, his tone warning. He pushed back from the table, hands braced along the edge. “¿Qué pasó, carajo?”

“¿Qué te importa?”

Michael was out of his seat so fast the chair flipped backward and crashed to the floor. David flinched.

“¿Cómo que ‘qué te importa’?”

I shoved my plate away and watched Michael combust. “Look, calm down—”

“Hijo de la gran puta, coño—”

“I’m not telling you shit if you’re going to curse at me the whole time!”

“Then tell me what happened!”

This time I was the one who flinched. Having him scream at me in front of David and Nunzio should have fired up the fuck-you chip in my brain, but I just wanted to disappear. Sink into the floor. Rewind twenty minutes and drag David out the front door instead of into this disaster.

Michael paced the kitchen like a caged animal, breath coming out in harsh bursts. I hazarded a look at him again and felt worse. The guy was digging his hands into his hair and squeezing his eyes shut like the apocalypse had come. Maybe being trapped in this house with me was the equivalent for him.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I sounded small and weak, and if that wasn’t bad enough, there was a suspicious tickle at the back of my throat. My leg hopped up and down until David reached under the table and put his hand against my knee. He squeezed.

“The dispatcher was giving preference to the other casuals.” David met Michael’s eyes, and he lied right through his perfect teeth. I tried not to do a double take. He’d asked me a million questions about my short career as a longshoreman, but I’d thought he was being polite rather than retaining the information. “The guy who got Ray in at first—Rolly or whatever—kept telling him to get his TWIC card and to start the process to become unionized, but he slacked off and stopped getting preference if Rolly wasn’t the one making the calls.”

“David,” Michael gritted out, “I do not understand a word you are saying to me.”

I imagined that David was judging him for not paying more attention to my initial overexcited rambling about the job. Funny how he could look haughty about his superior longshoreman knowledge while stroking my thigh under the table. It reminded me of the way Nunzio had caressed Michael last night, before they’d gotten hot and heavy on the leather.

I pulled away, but David was not deterred. He dropped his arms on the table and kept talking, willing to act as my proxy regardless of my acceptance of his affection.

“Do you understand how his job worked, Michael?” he asked with a look of tried patience.

Nunzio choked on his coffee. I didn’t blame him. I was waiting for a rowdy Rodriguez explosion, but Michael swallowed David’s condescending tone with obvious practice. He looked calmer. Maybe they were role-playing—doing the team leader/team member thing, so Michael would talk rationally like they were at work, instead of rampaging at me like a beast.

“I understood that he either went in or called the hiring hall every day to see if they needed him, and I know it wasn’t guaranteed work, but for months it sure seemed like he was doing well for himself. So, again Raymond, what the hell happened?”

Me screwing up had happened. Not applying for my government credentials had only been part of it—I could have worked for a while without it. But I’d been too impatient to wait for work when Rolly wasn’t the one dispatching jobs to the docks, and I’d started fumbling my shift when someone called me unexpectedly, because I’d already started getting high for the day. Rolly had handed me an easy way into a competitive job, and I’d returned on the investment with immature bullshit. I didn’t need anyone else to tell me that, but Michael would rant about my irresponsibility until Christmas just to beat it into my head and make sure I knew he was disappointed.

My refusal to fess up was more damning than coming up with a bogus excuse, but I wouldn’t give it all away. I’d screwed up, and it was done. No need to make myself look like a complete asshole in the process.

“They stopped calling me in,” I said. “So it’s time to find something else. End of story.”

The vein in Michael’s head looked dangerously close to exploding. Nunzio stood behind him, hands on Michael’s shoulders.

“We just started working on his résumé,” David said. More lies. “That’s why I came over.” Damn, he was on a roll. “He’ll find something.”

You had to love David’s yuppie optimism. He functioned on the belief that everything would work itself out in the end without factoring in the reality that it didn’t happen that way for everyone. If you’re white, chances are you’ll be all right, but if you’re like me… well, the deck wasn’t quite so stacked. Or it was stacked in the wrong direction.

“Where is he looking?” Michael seemed to accept that I wasn’t going to participate fully in this inquisition, and he directed his questions to David. “I haven’t seen him go to any interviews.”

“Because we’re working on his résumé today… like I already said.” All David needed was a duh to max the sass factor, but he just sat there looking prim and cute, daring anyone to argue. “He seems to think he has no transferrable skills, and I beg to differ. He was one of the best on the gang because he has good people skills—”

Michael raised an eyebrow.

“—and,” David went on, unperturbed, “he was handling sensitive material, operating heavy machinery, organizing shipments, working under time constraints, providing flexibility….”

“Wow, you’re good at bullshitting,” Nunzio said. “No wonder you got hired as grade-team leader.”

“Shut up, Nunzio,” I said.

He grinned at me again. I was starting to think he was picking on David just to see how frequently I would defend him. Either way, David’s transferrable skills fairy tale was simmering Michael down. He’d started nodding in agreement and was rubbing his chin, having fantasies about me getting some great job with those amazing credentials. I was sure that working at Subway or bagging groceries at Key Food was the only fairy tale in my future.

“He could apply for some entry-level office jobs,” Michael said. “Some kind of clerk position, maybe? Or data entry—didn’t you do that too?”

I shrugged. David nodded.

“I’ll take you shopping,” Nunzio said, “for interview gear.”

“And cut that fucking hair off.”

David glared at Michael. “How dare you! I love his hair.” He ran his fingers through the damp strands for emphasis.

I did nothing to stop him, and Michael gave me another of those suspicious stank-eyed glares. Nunzio just kept smiling his smarmy smile.

“Well, this has been a real special journey into the world of make-believe,” I drawled. “But what has that got to do with you kicking me out of my house? I can cover rent somewhere for a couple of months with the rest of Mom’s money, but I’m getting the feeling you assholes want to make this happen before school starts again in September, which means I’ll have no time to find a place I can afford so you can be gay, happy, and in love. Half of my friends live with their girlfriends and the other half still live with their parents.”

“I’ll help you find a place,” Nunzio repeated. “And I’ll cosign for you.”

“And, um….” David picked up a napkin and fiddled with it.

I nudged him. “Um, what?”

He folded the napkin, smoothing the corners. “I was going to say that my lease is up, so….” He cleared his throat and said in a rush, “If you want to be roommates, that would be okay with me. I’ve been struggling to pay the rent for my overpriced apartment ever since my ex moved out. I mean, I can’t move in here because it’s so far, but we could, um, find a new apartment. In Brooklyn maybe. Or whatever, it’s just an idea.”

David trailed off with a blend of too-fast words. Nunzio’s face reddened as he shook with silent laughter. Michael did me the favor of punching him in the arm.

“You’ll kill each other,” Michael noted. “You’re OCD, and my brother is a slob.”

“That’s why it’s perfect,” I said, warming up to the idea. “He’ll be my slave.”

David threw the napkin at my face. “Shut up before I retract the offer.”

I smirked and shoved the remaining half bagel into my mouth. Nunzio was becoming oxygen deprived from his incessant guffaws, and Michael was waiting for us to proclaim we were looking into openings at City Hall for our marriage, but I couldn’t be too troubled over their assumptions. I’d expected the morning to be far worse, but David had single-handedly prevented the conversation from becoming a full-on fiasco complete with rage blackouts and either me or Michael swearing to God or our mother.

We left the kitchen while Michael and Nunzio were immersed in real-estate talk, and I tugged David up the stairs by the hand. He chattered nonstop about jobs, résumés, and apartments—already leaping three miles forward into what we could do to design a space before we’d even found one. It was too much too soon, considering I’d just agreed to all of it, so I shut him up with an impromptu hug.

David smiled against the side of my neck. “You’re welcome.”

I disentangled myself and flopped backward on the bed. “You sure about this, man?”

“Positive.” David climbed right on top, straddling me. He knew I’d never throw him off, even if I’d threatened to do so a hundred times in the past. Maybe he knew how much I liked it. “It will be great. Trust me. And I may have suggested the idea, but we’re helping each other. I need you just as much as you need me. I’m drowning in student loans and bills. I can’t afford to keep pretending I can live in Manhattan, and I don’t want to live with a stranger.”

“What if you get sick of me? Michael had a point. I am a slob.”

“Shut up.”

David dipped his head down and kissed my forehead. I had no idea how such a brief, light touch could charge my libido, but once again, it did. My dick twitched, and my hand drew up to the small of his back. I was sure he could feel my heart thump with an erratic rhythm while I wondered how it would feel to push my swelling dick into his ass. I swallowed hard, and David leaned back to give me a funny look.

This was going to be interesting.