“Yeah, it’s nice.” Jake glanced around, pride in his every move. “We like it.”
“You have a lawnmower?” Jericho lifted the cast and shrugged. “When this comes off, I can take over mowing. I can do whatever you need.” He hated the desperation in his voice, but that wagonload of emotional bricks had again hammered home to him how much Trent and Jake were changing their lives to make room for him. “You name it.”
“We’ll see in three weeks when that comes off.” Jake jerked the top of his head towards the opening, stepping back to hold the door wide. “Come on. I wanna get my shoes off and sit on my ass for a minute in a chair that’s not vibrating my balls off. Trent’s getting your room ready now.”
Yeah, Uncle Trent’s having to scramble to make a place for me, because when they left to come to Tennessee, they hadn’t intended to bring me back.
Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face as he trudged towards the house, because Jake turned loose of the screened door, letting the pneumatic arm close it softly behind him as he stepped towards the edge of the porch, meeting Jericho there. “Don’t, Jericho. Don’t do that to yourself. I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but just don’t. We want you here.” Well, that proved he’s a mind reader. “If we didn’t, we wouldn’t have raised both hands and yelled ‘Pick me, pick me’ when the judge was making his ruling. We want you with us. It’s where you belong, and neither Trent nor I would have it any other way. You’re stuck with us now, kiddo. No way around it.” Jake angled down so he was staring right in Jericho’s face, the passion imbued in his gaze slightly unnerving, but Jericho steeled himself to meet it, in the end seeing only concern and sincerity there. “You’re ours. It doesn’t matter if you mow the yard or not.” Jake gave a one-shouldered shrug and grinned, breaking the intense mood slightly. “I won’t argue with you if you want to mow it, but don’t feel like that kind of thing is how you have to pay your way. We, me and Trent, we aren’t going to get tired of you or decide you’re too much trouble. We aren’t going to leave you, and we will not, will never let you leave. This is us, and now us includes you.”
Trent had been hovering in the doorway, his expression obscured by the screen until he shoved it wide and Jericho saw he was blinking away tears. “Get used to it, Jericho. Jacob’s never wrong when it comes to family. Never trust his selections at a sushi bar, but where family is concerned, he’s the master of making things make sense.”
“Okay.” Jericho shrugged and glanced down, embarrassed he’d forced them to have yet another emotional conversation with him, just to soothe his nerves. A huge part of him wanted to apologize, but he knew Jake would meet any “I’m sorry” with a demand to know what he’d done wrong, and then it would become even more of a thing than it was. He decided the best way to let them both know he’d heard and was digesting their messages was to move things along and follow Jake’s earlier directive. “Uncle Trent, can you show me my room? Uncle Jake said his balls were still vibrating, and he needed you to look at them.” Jake snorted a laugh, and Jericho looked up to see Trent’s mouth opened in a distorted “O”. “I’m pretty sure that’s going to involve things I don’t want to see, so I thought I could put my stuff away while you guys did…whatever.”
“Jesus, kid.” Jake reached out and grabbed the edge of the door from Trent. “Get your ass inside already.” His gruff words were at odds with the smile on his face, and Jericho deliberately bumped his shoulder into this found uncle, someone he hadn’t known he needed in his life.
As he stepped inside, he took a moment to marvel at the changes from even a month past. Of course his mother was gone, and that would be a pain he carried with him all his days, because, soul deep, he missed her. But beyond that, he’d gone from a boy who had a narrow thread of family to someone with uncles and an aunt and cousins, open invitations to come stay in Memphis if Jake and Trent decided not to move back, and an offer to tour Jordan’s college and meet his friends.
“Blessed beyond measure.”
He wasn’t aware he’d muttered the words, a saying from Bible study that his grandmother had taught him, until Trent’s hand lifted and cupped the back of his neck, bringing their faces close together. Staring into Jericho’s eyes, Trent finished the phrase, bringing things full circle in Jericho’s mind. “Forever and ever, amen.”
***
Hours later, he was sprawled out on one of the two couches in the living room, Trent and Jake seated on the other in something he couldn’t call anything except what it was: a cuddle. They’d just finished watching a fourth episode of some show he couldn’t get into, but he also couldn’t complain about the way the characters dressed, because every man in the show was fine.
Without thinking, something that had been happening more and more often over the past weeks since leaving Knoxville, he asked, “Those men in the street today, was that like a parade or something?”
When they’d first stopped at the red light, he’d been facing the other direction, but Jake had glanced past Jericho’s shoulder and grinned, then lightly shook his head as he faced front again. Intrigued at what could pull that kind of reaction from his uncle, Jericho had turned to look and been floored. If he’d been standing, he would have been taken to his knees.
Men, with only a couple of exceptions, and it had only taken a little studying to realize even they weren’t really exceptions, just dressed differently. Men in sparkly rainbow tank tops, hair curling and shining in the sun. Men with no shirts, their chests strapped with leather belts and buckles, tight pants of the same material wrapped around their butts and legs. Men who dressed like Marco, a little upscale but comfortable, light pastel colors complementing their golden tans. Men, so many men, all pressed together so when one took a step backwards the others around had to adjust to allow it, bodies brushing against each other. He was reminded all at once of the magazine he’d stolen from the gas station only a month ago, the ad for the club inside the front cover promising man meat everywhere.
That led immediately to a memory he’d tried to repress, that of Frank’s eyes drilling into him over the glowing ember of the cigar, smoke wreathing the man’s head as if looking for the horns of a devil. Heart racing, he struggled, trying to force the fear away, hoping his uncles wouldn’t see.
That prayer was answered, at least, because when Trent responded to the question Jericho had already forgotten asking, he only sounded amused, not alarmed.
“No, baby boy. Not a parade. Just a line to get into one of the clubs.”
Jericho looked at Trent, seeing he was still staring at the TV. Jake, watching Jericho, wore an expression of concern. Jericho tried smiling at him, hoping to forestall whatever observation Jake had been about to make. It worked, thankfully, because Jake gave him a short nod, then tightened his arms visibly around Trent. The squeeze got Uncle Trent’s attention, but by the time he looked at Jericho, Jericho was sure he’d been able to blank his face convincingly.
“A club? Like a dance club?”
Trent grinned and nodded, then leaned his head back against Jake’s shoulder. The two men had been significantly freer with their affection since getting back into their own home, and that made him wonder how hard it had been to curtail it back in Tennessee.
“So, like, that’s a thing? A dance club for guys?” Jericho let loose a little snort of amusement. “That’s pretty cool. They’re pretty brave to just, I don’t know, stand there where anyone could see and know that they were going to the club like that.”
“California’s more progressive than Tennessee, that’s for sure.” Trent was watching the TV again, but Jericho saw his mouth twist sideways. “‘Free to be me’ was a motto for a political candidate not long ago, and I always thought that summed up Southern California in a nutshell. Sure, SanFran has a higher ratio of gays to straights, but it’s less politicized here. It just is, instead of something to aim for.”
“Did you ever live in San Francisco?”
Jake shook his head. “We went
from Memphis to San Diego, living down near Coronado to start with. Such a tiny, jankie little apartment, and we still paid through the nose. But the views?” That broad grin came back and Jericho responded in kind, feeling the corners of his mouth curl up. “I’d never seen the ocean, never played in the sand before we came out here. I was ready to pay twice as much just for the chance of seeing the ocean every morning.”
“And the other scenery wasn’t bad, either.” Trent chuckled. “It’s a Navy town, so there were—” Trent made a choking sound that morphed into a series of muffled snorts when he laughed harder, hardly able to get the words out as he finished with, “There were seamen everywhere.”
“Ah, God. That’s so bad. It wasn’t funny the first time you said it, Trentie.” Jake had thrown his head back, laughing raucously at the ceiling. He raised his voice an octave and lilted a nonsense response, “Seamen, seamen, seamen. There was seamen everywhere.”
Jericho watched them laugh, each man offering varying versions of the same phrase, their laughter growing more hysterical and out of control, and he was just sitting like a lump because none of it made sense to him. Embarrassed, he finally admitted on a soft mutter, “I don’t get it.”
“Ah, God.” Jake flung a hand up, waving it side to side in a negating motion. “Flag on the field, Trentie. You gotta take this one. I can’t.”
“No, Jakey. Please. Don’t make me. I’ll puke if I laugh more.” Trent had slumped down, his head in Jake’s lap, fingers wiping tears from under his eyes. “Please.”
“No, this is all you, babe.”
“Oh, man.” Trent made a visible effort to get himself under control, losing it and convulsing with laughter again. The whole time Jericho felt himself getting stiffer, muscles tensing up, because as with everything in Tennessee, he was on the outside, not in the know, different. “Okay. Navy guys are called seamen, right?” Trent lifted his head and looked at Jericho, who nodded. “And jizz,” Trent gave a rolling wave aimed vaguely over his middle, “is also called semen.” The play on words hit Jericho then, and he stared at Trent with wide eyes, not moving, not blinking. Trent muttered, “Oh, Jakey. I broke him.”
Jericho flung himself to the side as heat flooded his face, and he pressed tight to the cushions at the back of the couch as peal after peal of laughter burst out of him. “Semen everywhere.”
“Exactly.” Trent’s shout was threaded through with hilarity, and the room echoed with Jake’s laughter, too. “So much semen. So funny. All the semen.”
After the laughter finally died down, and Trent stopped muttering “semen” at odd intervals, Jericho pushed up to a sitting position, staring over at Trent and Jake. “Did you guys ever go to a club like that? A dancing club for me?” Eyes wide, he corrected himself quickly. “Men, I mean. A dancing club for men?”
“Yeah, we did.” Jake dropped his head to smile at Trent. “My husband can cut a rug. We spent many an evening in places just like that one.”
“Did it… Were you scared the first time you went inside one?”
Trent pursed his lips, thinking, then said, “Not really. Not once we got into the line, because the energy was just so positive. As if everyone there understood exactly what was in my head. It felt like I’d found my tribe.” He wrinkled his nose and narrowed his eyes to look up at Jake, who was watching the TV. “At least until I found a twinky boy pressed all up against my man. I told him to take his go-go-boots-wearing self somewhere else.”
“He wasn’t my type, babe.” Jake didn’t look down, but he reached for Trent’s hand, their fingers falling into place. “I like ’em beefy.”
“I got your—” Trent shot a glance at Jericho as he interrupted himself. “Jakey, watch the show.”
“I am.” The soft smile Jake aimed at the TV wasn’t lost on Jericho.
I wish Mom could have seen this. Just this. It could have changed everything.
Chapter Nine
Trent
“Thank you. Yes, I’ll hold.” Tapping the tip of a pencil against the tablet laid on the counter in front of him, Trent studied the remaining list he’d written out last night, sighing at how few had been checked off. The legal aspect of taking on a not-quite-sixteen-year-old boy was proving daunting, but fortunately, Mr. Reedman had provided him information about not only what kind of documentation he’d have to provide the courts, but also hooked Trent up with the names of a couple of family lawyers back in Knoxville. He and Jacob had hired one here in California, too, and while both lawyers had reassured Trent this was a very straightforward case, it still needed the official stamp of approval.
He’d expected home visits, interviews, and the like, but it was the more intangible things that kept tripping him up.
Like what he was trying to do right now, setting Jericho up with a doctor. The cast was only a week away from needing to be removed, and he was on with the fourth doctor’s office, hoping to find one that would accept a new patient on such short notice.
There was a sound on the line, and he perked up, mouth open to respond, when the noises flattened and went away. He pulled the phone from his head and looked at it, frowning. The screen was dark and pushing buttons didn’t do anything. “Dammit.” Either the phone had died entirely, or it had run out of battery, but either way, it meant he wasn’t any closer to finding an answer to the pressing problem.
“Jakey.” He directed his yell towards the back of the house, where their joint office was. No answer, which meant Jacob probably had his headphones on, intently working. Interrupting him would mean derailing Jacob’s productivity for a while, because it took time to get back into the groove. Trent twisted to look towards the front of the house, where he knew Jericho was in the living room watching something on TV. A buzz on the table behind him drew his attention, and he saw the phone they’d bought for Jericho lying there, the screen’s brilliance fading from a recent notification.
Problem solved, he thought, proud of himself for dealing with it and not having to bother Jacob.
He fumbled with the device, expecting to have to unlock it somehow, but the screen brightened again as soon as he pushed the first button. In the middle of what he saw was a text message. It was a thread Jericho had with Nate, and while not every message talked about not wanting to be a burden, it was certainly a theme throughout each of them he skimmed. He navigated away from that conversation and saw Jordan’s name was actually first on the list of most recent threads. There were a number of notifications, indicating unread messages. While he was trying to decide how he felt about the older boy, a young man really, texting his nephew, another message came in and flashed up on the screen.
I rlly wish yd answr me. I dbl cked w Nate so I kno I got the # rght. Talk 2 me Jericho.
Blowing out a stream of air, he angled his head up and minimized the text application. He still wasn’t sure what it meant that Jordan was reaching out, but Jericho was ghosting him. That didn’t seem like the boy he was coming to know and love. But admitting he’d seen anything would be an invasion of privacy, which would undoubtedly cost him no small amount of the trust he’d built up with the boy in just a few short weeks.
Glancing down at the phone number written on the paper in front of him, he tapped it into the phone and connected, laying the device down and putting it on speaker. Ringing ended and the call immediately went to an auto-attendant, and he worked his way through the various menus until he was back in the queue for scheduling. Tonight would be soon enough to ask Jacob how best to handle the things Trent had read, and then strategize about how to deal with the other.
Appointment successfully made, Trent had moved to the next series of calls, establishing guardianship through the school system, because it was likely Jericho would have to at least start the school year here in San Diego. As he was rattling off his email address for what felt like the hundredth time today, lips landed on the back of his neck, and a well-known hand slipped across his chest, Jacob’s strong arm pulling Trent backwards until he rested against his husba
nd.
“Uh-huh.” He wiggled against Jacob, getting more comfortable while prompting the woman on the phone to keep talking, hoping she’d get to the point sometime soon. “Yes, ma’am, but when do we need to have his transcript from Tennessee?” More rambling words, until finally she stumbled into disclosing the information he needed.
“No later than one week before registration. The guidance counselors will want time to provide the best possible advice for his academic success.”
“Okay, I think we can do that.” He jotted the dates down, drawing a heavy, black circle around the deadline. “Thank you so much.”
Trent ended the call and locked the phone, tossing it facedown on the countertop next to his own. Jericho had received another half a dozen texts while Trent used the phone, and he’d studiously tried to ignore each one.
“You done working, honeybuns?” Trent lifted his chin as he spoke, looking into Jacob’s face from his position on the stool. Jacob swooped down and brushed his lips lightly across Trent’s, pulling a smile and a contented hum from him. My hunka-hunka.
“Yeah. The team’s done amazing. I can’t believe we’re already caught up on everything I missed during our trip.” Jacob kissed him again, and Trent closed his eyes, falling into the caress until Jacob pulled back and ended it with a series of tender, closemouthed pecks. “What do you want for supper, babe? I’m cooking tonight.”
“Ugh, work. I can’t even think about that right now. I can’t. Not now. I made all the calls we needed, I think. It’s so much, Jakey. But Jericho’s lined up for a doctor early next week to remove the cast. The appointment is with a guy who’s in a decent pediatrician group. I finally found a bunch of good recommendations online. Then when I talked to Carla from the ad agency, I found out it’s where she takes her teenaged son, so they’re used to more than just babies.”
Bet On Us Page 12
