Come Play: An Erotica Charity Anthology

by Quin Perin

Jamie: Dude

  Jamie: Dude

  Jay: JFC. What?

  Jamie: Okay. So I kinda fucked up and I kinda didn't get a form sent to Loyola in time and I kinda don't have a dorm assignment for next year. I can't commute from Naperville to Loyola. That's nuts. I’ll have to buy a car and then I'll die. In traffic. Traffic will literally kill me.

  Jay: And?

  Jamie: And you don't want me to die, do you?

  Jay: Let me think about it.

  Jamie: Come on! Can I come live with you? Please. I'll pay half your rent and utilities and I'll buy my own food. I've got my money from Grandma to pay for stuff, but Dad says I'm too young to live on my own, and you are the PERFECT roommate. I mean, I already know you won't kill me in my sleep.

  Jay: Truth. Otherwise I'd have done that years ago.

  Jamie: EXACTLY. So. What do you think? I'll pay my way and stay out of your hair. I won't have wild parties and trash the place.

  Jay: I'll ask my dad. It's his place, you know.

  Jamie: Yeah, I know. I won't be any bother. I'll be a lot less of a problem than your cat.

  Jay: I don't have a cat.

  Jamie: Yeah, but if you did, you would notice me less.

  Jay: I'll let you know, okay?

  Jamie: Okay. But I have to know soonish. If you can't do it, I'll have to take my chances with Craigslist. Do you really want some rando Craigslist roommate to turn me into a throw rug?

  Jay: Let me ask Dad.

  Jay stared at the text conversation as he had, off and on, for the past several hours. Yes or no? Yes or no? His father probably wouldn't give much of a shit one way or the other, especially if Jamie paid half the rent. And it would be good to not live alone. Until June, he'd had a roommate, his cousin Max, who'd just graduated from Northwestern. He'd then moved to New York to go to grad school, leaving Jay with the two-bedroom apartment in Evanston all to himself. That was nice, but also fucking lonely. Having a roommate would be good. Having one he already knew was better.

  But it was Jamie. And Jay knew that with Jamie came baggage. Fourteen years of love and concern and feelings. Dangerous ones.

  Jay cursed, then called his father. The answer was yes. When it came to Jamie, the answer would always end up being yes.

  Jamie

  Twelve years ago

  “Jesus Christ on a pogo stick. What'd you do now, assmunch?”

  Jamie looked up and there was Jay, tall and worldly like only a nine-year-old who was allowed to stay up until ten and go to sleepover camp could be.

  He wanted to plead for help, but instead he only burst into tears.

  “Is that Mom's doll? What the H-E-L-L, booger brain? It's all cracked.”

  Jamie sniffled and hiccupped. “I only. W-Wanted. S-Sarah. To have her.”

  Jay groaned. “That's not a little baby doll, numb nuts. It's fragile.” He looked at the broken doll lying on the floor. “Was fragile. Idiot. Now you're gonna get it.”

  Jamie started crying harder, and inevitably, that brought Jay's mom. She started screaming right away.

  “How could you? She's not a toy, James. You're not a baby anymore. You should know better. I'll talk to your father when he gets home, but you will be punished. You understand me? This was mine. Not yours. You had no right.”

  “Mom,” said a voice that was utterly chilly. “It wasn't the brat. I mean, he's a huge pain in my bee-hind, but I did it.”

  Heather looked at her son, anger defused and confusion in its place. “But why? You know Grandma Taylor gave her to me.”

  Jay shrugged. “I thought Sarah would like her. Girls like dolls, right?”

  Exasperated but fond, Heather said, “Sarah's a baby, Jay. That isn't a doll for a baby.”

  Jay opened his eyes wide at his mom. “I'm so sorry, Mom. I was only trying to be nice.”

  Heather ruffled Jay's hair. “I wish you'd asked first, but your heart was in the right place.” She sighed heavily and picked up the doll, fingering the fracture on her face. “I'll see about getting her repaired.”

  “You can use my allowance to fix her,” Jay volunteered.

  “That's very sweet and mature of you, but no. It's okay.” She kissed her son on his cheek. “Now, go play outside. It's a nice day. But if you ride your bike, wear your helmet.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Jay grumbled. “Come on, booger brain. Let's go.”

  “Be nice to Jamie,” Heather said, but she said it absently, like she didn't care one way or the other.

  “Whatever,” Jay replied as he tugged Jamie out of the house. He whispered conspiratorially into Jamie’s ear, “We should probably stay away and outta sight until dinner. I've got cookies in the fort.”

  “Okay,” Jamie said, but inside his head, he was doing back flips. He thought that he might love Jay more than anyone in the whole world, except Daddy and Jesus and Santa.

  Jamie

  Now

  “I'm not sure this is the best idea, Jamie,” his father said.

  “I'm not wasting all that money I got from Grandma on rent just because I screwed up my dorm request form.”

  Jim sighed. “Jamie, Jamie, Jamie. That's my point. We've been over this and over this and over this. You're too irresponsible. I’m not sure you’re ready to live on your own, unsupervised.”

  “Jay’ll be there, Dad, so I won't be alone.”

  His father grunted. “I’d feel better if you lived with your aunt instead, like we discussed.”

  “Aunt Ev lives in Lake Forest. The commute is still too long. I’d have to get up at four in the morning to take the train and make it on time, and how am I supposed to get to the Metra station with no car? Wake Aunt Ev or Uncle Bill? And besides. All their kids are grown up and married and shit—”

  “James Robert Dixon!”

  Jamie sighed. “Sorry, Dad. Stuff. Grown up and married and stuff. What I was getting at is that they don’t want me in their house. And who can blame them?”

  “They’d love to have you,” Jim insisted. “They’re your family.”

  “Jay is my family, too.”

  His father frowned and said nothing. He didn’t have to. Jamie already knew his dad’s opinion of Jay and his father and the rest of the Rodriguez family. Jamie liked them, though, especially when Jay’s abuela made tamales and gave some to Jay to take home. But Jamie’s dad was, well, he was what he was, and sometimes Jamie didn’t agree with him, but he was still his dad. Even if he did say things like “You know they're all illegals living off the system,” and, “I don’t like you going over there, Jamie. It’s not safe where they live,” and worst of all, “They’re not our kind of people.”

  When his dad said things like that, it filled Jamie with embarrassment and anger and a deep well of sadness that he couldn’t explain. He loved his father, but sometimes, he wasn’t sure if he liked him.

  “Dad, it’s all taken care of. Jay’s father is okay with me being his roommate. The rent is five hundred a month, which is way cheaper than it would be getting my own place. I can walk to the L station and take that right to school.” That was a tiny exaggeration, but not by too much. He could certainly manage without having his own car, and that would save on gas and parking and insurance. “This is perfect, Dad. Really. And I probably even won’t see that much of Jay or his friends, since he’s going to Northwestern and I'm going to Loyola. We’ll be like ships passing in the night or whatever.”

  Jim sighed again. “I can see you’ve got your mind made up, but if it doesn’t work out, we’ll figure something out, okay?”

  “Sure, Dad.” And with that, Jamie knew he’d gotten his way. Internally, he turned cartwheels. Outwardly, he grinned and gave his dad a manly punch on the arm. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

  Jay

  Seven years ago

  “Holy shit, Mom's gonna murder you.”

  Jamie's head whipped around toward the sound of Jay's voice, looking away from the bathroom vanity mirror he'd been gazing into intently.

  The picture
he presented to Jay was a little disorienting. His eleven-year-old brother had his hair pulled back from his face with a headband, and his face was covered in makeup. Jamie's lashes had been darkened and lengthened, his blue eyes rimmed with sharp, black lines, and his lids colored pink and bright yellow and turquoise. His lips were dark pink and fuller than normal, and he had cheekbones instead of baby fat.

  He looked like Jamie and not like Jamie at the same time. The child's body was the same, wearing a Cubs t-shirt and khaki shorts. But his face was pretty now, instead of boyishly cute. It made something weird pang inside Jay's chest.

  This was bad. It was really, really bad.

  “You're not supposed to be home,” Jamie said, a slight tremble in his voice. “No one's supposed to be home.” Panic suffused his features, and he started scrubbing the makeup off his skin with a sponge.

  “I skipped last period at school,” Jay said by way of explanation. “We had a sub. Look, Mom won't be home for another two hours and your dad an hour after that. Chill.”

  Tears ran down Jamie's cheeks, making his mascara run. He buried his head in his arms. “Go away.”

  “Baby J—”

  “Don't call me that!”

  Jay inched closer and laid a tentative hand on Jamie's trembling shoulder. “Jamie,” he said softly, “it’s okay, I promise.”

  “No, it's not. It's not okay. If your mom doesn't kill me, my dad will.”

  Jay stroked Jamie's back comfortingly. “I swear I won't say anything. We'll just clean this up and hope she doesn't notice you got into her shit, okay?”

  Jamie let out a watery laugh. “It's mine.”

  “What?”

  “The stuff. The… makeup. It's mine. I bought it with my birthday money.” He looked up at Jay, his face tragic and defiant and shattered and filthy and somehow beautiful. It knocked the breath out of Jay for a second.

  “Oh… okay. Grab it, then. Clean your face. Do whatever.”

  “I know how to clean my face, Jay,” Jamie said, sounding far too much like Jamie's dad for Jay's comfort. Hearing that tone make his heart hurt. “This isn't a new thing. I've been messed up for a while now.”

  “You're not messed up, Baby J.”

  Jamie hung his head. “I'm not normal, though. This isn't normal.”

  Jay stared at Jamie, taking him all in. “Do you like it?”

  “What?”

  “This.” Jay gestured to his face. “The makeup thing. Do you like it?”

  Emotions flickered across Jamie’s face. “Yeah,” he finally said, his voice full of scorn. “Pretty fucked up, huh?”

  “If you like it, fuck normal. Fuck it hard. Normal is shit, anyway.”

  Jamie produced a watery chuckle. “I thought you'd hate me. If you… ya know… ever found out. What I do.”

  Jay hugged the boy hard. “I could never hate you, Baby J. Never in a million, billion years. But you better get cleaned up, because even if it isn't her stuff all over your face, Mom's still gonna kill you if she catches you in here looking like that.”

  Unspoken was how Jamie's dad would react, because some things were too bad for even Jay to think about, let alone say out loud.

  Jay

  Now

  His dad looked at the three wardrobe boxes and shook his head. “This kid has more clothes than your mother, which is saying something,” he said in Spanish, forgetting, as he always did, that Jamie had gotten straight As in Spanish. Jamie might have been the whitest white boy to ever white, but his ears worked just fine in Spanish.

  Jay saw Jamie stiffen and said, in English, “Mom has enough clothes to fill two moving vans. She made one of the house’s extra bedrooms into an entire fucking closet.”

  “Her dressing room,” Jamie murmured. “It’s bigger than my bedroom.”

  “Smallest bedroom for the smallest kid,” Jay teased. “You know, you could’ve taken my room over when I moved out.”

  Jamie looked uncomfortable and didn’t say anything.

  “What?” Jay asked.

  His dad grunted and rolled his eyes. “La bruja,” he muttered. “What the boy don’t wanna tell you is that your mamá probably told him he couldn’t disturb anything in your precious room, which she’ll keep perfect for you, hoping one day you’ll move back, until she dies. I know you hate it when I talk about her, but you know I’m right. Aren’t I, niño?” he added, turning his head and speaking to Jamie.

  Jamie looked between Jay and his father, apparently unsure of what to say, which was answer in and of itself. Jay loved his mother, a lot, but he’d have to have been blind to not see how Jamie had always been her stepson, and she’d never allowed him to be anything more. She had limited space in her heart, and there had never been enough room for a child that wasn’t hers.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Jamie finally said. “I have a new home now.” Then he blushed and looked mortified.

  Papá shook his head then hefted one of the wardrobe boxes and carried it inside.

  “Maybe I brought too much,” Jamie worried. He chewed on his lower lip in thought.

  “Nah. You're fine. Dad's just being cranky, like he always is. Ignore him. Your room has a walk-in closet and you have plenty of space for all this shit. Now grab a box and come on. The sooner we get this all unpacked, the sooner we can eat pizza.”

  Jamie smiled then, and the expression lit up his entire face. Jay was struck with how beautiful Jamie was. Way prettier than any boy should be.

  Jamie grabbed Jay and hugged him tight. “Thanks, Jay. I owe you big time for this. I don't know how I'm ever going to make it up to you, but thank you. Thank you so much.” He gave Jay a great smacking kiss on the cheek.

  Jay's dad came out of the apartment building’s front door at that point, a huge frown on his face. “You two stop fucking around and start carrying boxes inside, you hear me?”

  Jamie leapt away from Jay, an unnecessarily guilty look on his face. “I'm sorry, Mr. Rodriguez. I'm just so happy I get to live with Jay.” Jamie picked up the next box and carried it inside.

  Jay followed suit. He grabbed a box and walked in through the apartment building's propped-open front door.

  “You should watch yourself with that one, hijo.”

  Jay paused at the foot of the stairs. “What?” he asked. “Watch what? What’re you talking about?”

  “That kid. Keep your eye on him, Jay.”

  “That's the plan. He's my younger brother. Of course I'm going to keep an eye out for him.”

  His dad shook his head in exasperation. “You know what I meant.”

  Jay stiffened. “No, I don't.” He didn't like his father's tone one bit.

  “Just don't come crying to me when that kid crawls into your bed one night.”

  Jay dropped the box he was holding. He hoped there wasn't anything breakable in it. “Dad! What the fuck? That's disgusting.” Oh, but is it really? a voice in his head mocked. Because hadn’t he pictured that very thing, from time to time, when he knew damn well how utterly wrong it was?

  A creak of floorboards made his gaze go up. Looking down at them from the floor above was Jamie, his face as white as a sheet. He gave Jay an injured look, then rushed down the stairs, past Jay and his father, and ran out the door.

  “Don't say I didn't warn you,” Jay's dad said, then he went back to the moving van to get another box.

  Jay stood there for a second in the apartment vestibule. What his dad was insinuating was completely nuts. Jamie was his brother, not by blood, but in all the ways that mattered. Jamie and bed shouldn’t be thought of in the same sentence. Ever. Even if Jay sometimes did. Sometimes a lot. And while it was one thing to have very secret inappropriate thoughts, it was quite another to have them vocalized out loud by your papá, of all people.

  Jay shouldered the box with a groan and started up the stairs. With each step he cursed his father for voicing things that should never, ever have been said. Especially not in front of Jamie.

  It was wrong. So wrong. Very wron
g. Dead wrong. But all that night, through bringing in boxes, helping Jamie unpack, and eating pizza, Jay couldn't stop thinking about Jamie's sweet lips on his cheek.

  Jamie

  Five years ago

  “You can't hide in your room forever, Baby J.”

  Yes I can, Jamie thought. Just watch me.

  “Look, I know you're in there.”

  “So?”

  “So I want you to come out.”

  “No.”

  Jamie lay on his bed, face down, with the overhead light turned off. He'd been hiding in his room all day, and his father had previously tried to coax him out, but also to no avail.

  “He’ll come out when he gets hungry,” his dad had said.

  Maybe, but right then Jamie felt like he'd never be hungry again. He'd made a complete fool of himself, and now he was in trouble, and he didn't know what to do.

  There was a muffled thump, and then his door creaked. Jay had sat down on the other side of the door and was leaning against it. “Then I'll just wait out here. Look, whatever happened, we can figure it out. I can help.”

  “No, you can't.” His voice dripped with bitterness.

  “I won't know unless you tell me.”

  Jamie tried to fall asleep, but it was hard, knowing Jay sat right outside the room.

  “Come on, Baby J. My butt's getting numb on this hard floor.”

  “Fine! I have this crush…”

  “And?” Jay prompted.

  “And I let it sorta slip.”

  “Oh. She didn't take it well?”

  Jamie was silent. He couldn't say the rest.

  “Jamie? Was that it, or…” He lowered his voice to barely above a whisper. “Fuck. It wasn't a girl, was it?”

  Jamie continued to say nothing.

  “Wow. I never… well, maybe I should have, but… a guy, huh? You had a crush on a guy. And you said something. What then?”