2
Frankie
“Get out of that!” Mom smacks my hand when I try to steal one of the deviled eggs she’s making.
“Ouch, woman!” I tease and earn a smile from her. “I just want one. Please?” I bat my eyelashes at her and give her a little frown that never ceases to get me my way.
“Fine, just one, mijo, but that’s all. I would have made extra if I knew you were coming over. They’re for a party tonight at your father’s work.”
And by “your father’s,” she doesn’t mean the sperm donor. He’s a piece of fucking shit that I can’t even think about without feeling as if I’m going to lose my damn mind. I hate the fucker for what he did to us, what he did to her, and if I never see him again, it’ll be too soon.
Mom has forgiven him. I don’t know how. She hasn’t talked to him since that day. She says she forgives him for herself, not for him and that I should too, but I can’t get past that shit. Can’t get past what he did to her. The day I turned eighteen, the first thing I did was work on getting my last name changed from Johnson to Mom’s maiden name—Ramirez. I considered using my stepdad’s but I wanted to be connected to Mom’s heritage. Both she and Randall understood.
She met Randall when I was twelve, married him when I was fourteen, and not a day goes by that I don’t wish it was his blood that flowed through my veins.
I pick at the red and black beaded bracelet on my wrist. She made it for me during one of her crafting phases. I wear it all the time. On my other wrist is a silly, white rubber bracelet that Evan got one night when we were out at Flirt. He put it on me when we were dancing so now I always wear that one too. It makes him happy to see it on my wrist. “From now on, you should just always make extra of things I like, just in case I happen to come over.”
She chuckles and rolls her eyes at me. “Should I now?”
“I think so. I mean, I am your favorite son and all.” I pick up the egg and bite into it.
“You’re my only son,” she replies. I can’t answer because I’m chewing, but she continues first anyway. “But you’re still the best one in the world.”
“Thanks, Ma.” I go to the fridge on the other side of the kitchen and grab the pitcher of sweet tea. “You thirsty?”
“Sure, I’ll have a glass.”
I pour our drinks as she finishes up with the eggs and then we go outside into the backyard. She scratches her arm—her skin is a few shades darker than mine. I pull out a chair for her at the patio table. Mom sits and then I take a seat beside her. “How’s work going?” she asks.
“Good. Keeping busy, which I guess is both good and bad since people have to need us for me to be busy.” I’ve known since I was seven years old that I would work on an ambulance. I know what it feels like to be on the other side, seeing those first responders come to help you, that moment you look up at that person who becomes your hero. Most of my life I’ve worked toward people looking at me that way, knowing that I would always be there to help.
“Have you put any more thought into the Paramedic Program?”
It’s something I’ve tossed around for a year or so now. There’s a part of me that wants to do it but on the other hand, I’m happy where I am. I feel good going to work every day and though more knowledge is always better, I don’t need to be a paramedic. I just don’t know if I want it or not. “Thinking about it here and there. It’s not real active on my radar, though.”
She pats my thigh. “The only thing that matters is that you’re happy…and you are, which means I’m happy too. You know how proud of you I am, Frankie.”
I set my hand over her smaller one. She’s little, not over five foot two but you don’t fuck with her. She hasn’t let anyone fuck with her since the sperm donor left. “I know, Ma.” We haven’t always had it easy. Mom and I…we’ve been through a lot, but we’ve always had each other. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.
We enjoy the rest of our tea and talk about her work at the nursery. Mom’s always loved plants and flowers. It wasn’t something the sperm donor had allowed her to do, for no other reason than the fact that she enjoyed it, but Randall has always encouraged her. Even if he didn’t, she wouldn’t allow anyone to dictate her life again. Not like that.
When we hear the front door open, we head back inside.
“Hey, Dad,” I say to Randall.
“Hey, Frankie.” He walks right over to the deviled eggs, but Mom swats his hand like she did mine.
“Get out of those. They’re for the party tonight.”
“Ouch, woman!” He teases and both Mom and I burst into laughter.
“I should head back to Midtown and let you guys do your thing.”
“Do you have plans with Evan tonight?” Dad asks.
“And when do we get to meet this guy?” Mom adds. “He’s the first man you’ve ever talked to me about.”
“That’s because they’re not hooking up, dear. They’re just friends,” Dad replies for me, and my forehead wrinkles.
“Um…the words ‘hooking up’ sound weird coming from you. And I don’t know when you’ll meet him. You know we’re just friends, right, Ma?” I’ve told her a million times. Unlike our friends who just give us shit about our friendship, I think my mom believes we’re secretly in love. It’s not about that with Evan, though. He’s…different. I knew it the first night I went home with him after the Peter fiasco. I’ve never had a problem talking. I’m a chatty motherfucker and everyone knows it, but I’m also a good listener too. It’s important to take the time to listen to people and when I’d done it for Ev that night, it was like no one had ever taken the time to let him talk before.
We just clicked, and we haven’t looked back since. He makes me laugh. I love how he looks at the world, even though he’s been through some heavy shit. How he gets his ass on the karaoke stage any chance he can. It doesn’t matter that he’s really fucking bad. I admire the hell out of his tenacity and love of life.
And I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that it feels good being there for him, having his trust the way I do.
“Yes, I know. You’ve told me. I’d still like to meet your friend, mijo,” Mom replies, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“We’ll see.” I don’t know why I haven’t taken Evan home. There’s no real reason for me not to, but something has always held me back. “Okay, I’m out. Have fun, kids.” I give them each a hug good-bye before heading out to my Honda and making the forty-five-minute trip to Midtown.
I check the time and realize Evan is still at work for a little over an hour, so I drop my car off at Metropolis and walk to the coffeehouse where he works. Little bastard always seems to get me down there. I spent half his shift with him the other day when he’d asked me to come.
He looks up from foaming a drink when I walk in and grins. It’s a knock-out fucking smile. Evan is definitely gorgeous and exactly my type—sexy, little twink with blond hair, hazel doe-eyes that can basically weasel anything out of me, and perfect fucking teeth. Yeah, it sounds funny to mention someone’s teeth, but anyone who’s seen Evan’s smile knows what I mean. “Hey, you. I didn’t expect you here tonight. Left your parents’ house early.”
“Yeah, they had a work party thing tonight I didn’t know about.”
“Sit down. I’ll get you a drink,” he says, and I do. A few minutes later, he brings me a cup. “Vanilla latte, extra shot and whip, just how you like it.”
“Thanks, Ev.”
“No problem,” he replies before getting back to work. I play around on Grindr, sending a few messages back and forth with a bottom that tells me all the dirty things he wants to do to me, and drink my coffee while I wait for Evan to finish his shift. When he’s done, he plops down on the seat beside me and leans over to look at my phone. “Oh, who’s the twink?”
“Some guy with a sexy mouth who really wants to blow me, he says.”
“Oh my God. Are you going to ditch me tonight for a blowjob?” he asks.
“Wouldn’t you?” I tease. “Who doesn’t want their dick sucked?”
Evan crosses his arms and pretends to pout. “I’m hungry, and I wanted Valentino’s.”
Shit. He knows I can’t say no to him when he pouts. “You’re killing me, Ev. I haven’t had a good blowjob in like…”
“A week and a half. It’s only been a week and a half since that one hookup came over, and we haven’t had Valentino’s in like a month!”
I reach out and ruffle his hair, which makes his fucking eyes roll back every time, then pull him close and press a kiss to his forehead. “Fine. You win. I’ll turn down getting my dick sucked for pizza, but you owe me.”
“You know I’m giving you shit. You can meet up with him, and I can bring food home and meet you there later.”
“I know you’re teasing me, but it’s fine. I’m sure someone will be around later, unless I just take matters into my own hand.” I wink. “And what about you? It’s okay to enjoy yourself. Get out there and meet someone—to date or hook up with. Whatever you want. It’s been a while now since Peter. Don’t let him keep you down.”
Evan looks down, his cheeks tinged pink. “I know.”
I worry about Evan…that he’s afraid to let himself get close to anyone because of how Peter hurt him or afraid to put himself out there at all. I’m not sure if he feels like all men will treat him the way Peter did, if he doesn’t trust himself or what, but it’s the last thing I want for him.
“Come on. Let’s go eat.” I nudge him out of the seat. He stands; I do the same. We walk to Valentino’s and inhale a large double pepperoni. Afterward, we head back to Metropolis, get changed, and then go to Flex, the popular Midtown gym, to work out.
“Are you and Jackson meeting to play racquetball in the morning?” Evan asks me on our way home.
“Yeah, I think so. I’m going to text him and figure it out.” It’s become our thing. Once in a while, we try to get a game in before or after work. I kick his ass ninety percent of the time and tease him about being too old.
By the time we get back to Metropolis, I’m beat. I take a quick shower, jack off, and then fall onto my bed in a pair of boxer trunks.
I hardly open my eyes when I hear a sound from the doorway. “You should invite that guy over,” Evan says.
“Nah. I’m good for tonight. Spent a little extra time in the shower.” I open my eyes and look at him. He has one hand on each side of the doorjamb, and a far-off look in his eyes. “What’s up?”
“Nothing…I was just thinking about what you said earlier, about getting back out there. I think you’re right.”
“I’m always right,” I reply. “You need to do what’s best for you, Ev. If it’s not what you want, don’t do it. I just don’t want you to hold yourself back in any way because of that prick or because you don’t trust yourself. You’re smart as hell, sexy as hell, and have a good head on your shoulders.”
“I know.” He walks into the room and lies beside me. I run my fingers through his blond hair because I can always tell how much it comforts him. “I really do know it. In a lot of ways, I feel like I’m a totally different person from the Evan that was with Peter.”
“You are.” I’ve seen the changes in him, the growth. He should be really fucking proud of himself.
“That feels good,” Evan says.
“Spoiled.”
“Well-liked,” he counters, and I chuckle. My eyes flutter because I’m tired as hell and have to get up early for work.
“I’ll let you go to bed,” Evan says but stays for a moment while I continue to play with his hair. Then he gets up, kisses my forehead, and says, “Night, Frankie.”
“Night, Evan.”
He turns out the light and closes the door behind him.