by Lane Hayes
I pursed my lips and leaned in to brush my nose against his. “I believe in you too, Char.”
I pulled him into my arms and sealed my mouth over his in what was possibly the longest kiss ever. I didn’t want to let him go. I couldn’t tell if I was moved by gratitude or desire or a combination of both, but I was afraid I’d say too much. I didn’t want to make promises I couldn’t keep and he might not want anyway. It was best to stay in the moment. And let Charlie lead.
9
Charlie
We ended up at Ky’s place later that night. He seemed lost in thought but oddly focused too. I sensed he needed to be near the beach and didn’t mind the drive. Moreover, I sensed he needed to be close to me. He held my hand or made sure to touch me somehow as he navigated the empty streets westward. My hair, my jaw, then buttons on my sleeve. It wasn’t a toned-down version of foreplay. It was just sweet…and romantic.
And when Ky moved inside me later, it felt like he was trying to tell me something. He tempered his raw intensity with tender kisses, playing my body like an instrument. He was quieter than usual too. He didn’t praise my ass or my cock or tell me to beg him for his. He spoke with his talented hands, the roll of his hips, soft sighs, and a burning look of desire. Somewhere in the sensual push and pull, we found a quiet place for just the two of us. No music, no words, no past, no secrets, or lies or half-truths. Just us in our most primal form.
He roared when he came inside me. And he stayed until I stopped shaking. Then he gathered me close and held me. We must have cleaned up at some point, but it was a blur. I didn’t really surface again till sunlight streamed through the blinds in his bedroom.
No…it probably wasn’t until Ky handed me a thermos containing my third cup of coffee and asked if I wanted to ride bikes down to the skate park in Venice.
He cracked up when I fixed him with a blank stare. “Is that a no?”
“I’m not sure how to put this delicately, but my ass is sore. I’m not riding a bike.”
“How about a skateboard?”
“You’re funny this morning,” I snarked, curling into his side when he put his arm around my waist and pulled me close. “I don’t know how to skateboard, and I’d rather not go to the ER today, but I’ll walk with you.”
“Deal. You can borrow one of my T-shirts, so you don’t look like a shoobie strollin’ the boardwalk in those fancy duds. Don’t argue. I gotta think of my reputation.”
“Your reputation?” I huffed, following him into his room. I caught the huge white T-shirt and sniffed it, chuckling when he rolled his eyes.
“It’s clean. And yeah, I don’t want anyone thinking my boyfr—that you’re a dork,” he corrected quickly before heading into the next room and grabbing one of the skateboards leaning against the wall. “Come on, Char. I’m gonna show you around my ’hood.”
“Wait. Am I your boyfriend?” I asked in a low voice.
Ky cocked his head thoughtfully. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t—”
“Like labels,” I intercepted. “I know.”
He kissed me softly before pulling a beanie over his head, instantly catapulting him into another realm of sexy. “Yeah, but I like the sentiment behind the word. You’re mine. That’s all that matters. Let’s go. See if you can keep up, baby.”
I couldn’t. I tried, but I couldn’t master speed walking while drinking coffee. When I slowed to a snail’s pace, Ky shook his head in mock exasperation and tucked his board under his right arm and wrapped his left arm over my shoulders. The public display of affection caught me by surprise. Of course, not as much as the “boyfriend” bomb did. Don’t get me wrong, I loved it and it fit. It didn’t matter who knew about us or what they thought. We were the ones who counted. But a couple of months ago, I assumed Ky was straight and had a girlfriend. Fluid sexuality was a concept I admired but didn’t fully get. It’s not that I didn’t trust him. I knew he felt the same things I did…lust, need, respect, friendship, and more lust. I just wanted him to always feel this way and to always look at me the way he did last night.
Forever was a dangerous word, I mused as I sipped my coffee and took in the scenery. It was partly cloudy and kind of chilly, but the boardwalk between Santa Monica and Venice Beach was packed. Joggers, bike riders, skateboarders, and rollerbladers outnumbered pedestrians. But the beach was mostly deserted. I spotted a family huddled together under a blanket and umbrella near the pier and smiled.
“They must be disappointed that it’s not Speedo weather,” I commented idly.
“California dreamin’. I bet it’s still warmer than wherever they’re from.”
“Do you ever want to live anywhere else?”
Ky cast a “What the fuck?” look my way and shook his head. “No way. I love it here. It’s home. I don’t even know why I feel that way sometimes. For all the good memories, there are twenty bad ones. Every time I try to leave, I end up within five miles of where I started. I guess it was meant to be.”
“Hmm. Was your high school close to the beach?”
“About a mile or two away. Close enough. And our house was in between. Some days I’d walk outside, look left and then right and decide if I was going to the beach or school.”
I chuckled. “Don’t tell me…the beach won.”
“Every time. I hated school. I had to anesthetize myself to get through it and deal with my fucked-up family,” he grumbled.
I bit the inside of my cheek before asking, “How’s your dad doing?”
“Okay, I guess. Karly’s been visiting him. She says he’s doing really well. Not sure what that means, but she seems to like hangin’ out with him. I don’t fuckin’ get it.” He let go of my shoulder to adjust his glasses, then tossed his board in front of him and rode away.
I watched him weave through traffic with practiced ease until he disappeared. He was back a couple of minutes later, dismounting from his board with some fancy trick that had a few bystanders cheering for him.
I lowered my sunglasses and gave him a thorough once-over. “Better now?”
“Much,” he grinned. “Gotta get that negativity out. You know that’s probably why I love the beach. I have years of pent-up negative BS coursing through my veins. I need an outlet that’s not gonna put me in rehab to stay sane.”
“From a purely observational standpoint, I think you need to talk about it,” I said gently.
“Dude, I’ve done my time in therapy too. I’m good.”
“I mean…maybe you should talk to your dad. For you, not for him.”
“No.”
I studied the hard line of his mouth and nodded. “Okay. I get it. I—”
“No, you don’t.” He stopped abruptly and leveled me with a harsh scowl. “You have two dads who fucking worship you. So what if their era kept them from publicly acknowledging their relationship? So what if they split up? I’m not saying it doesn’t suck ’cause it does. But they never stopped loving you. They never gave up on you. They never walked away or let you doubt for one second that you mattered. I see it every damn day. You have so much love in your life. Sometimes I don’t think you realize how lucky you are.”
I pushed my sunglasses on top of my head and gaped. “We weren’t talking about me. We were talking about you.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I can’t bring anything to this conversation ’cause unlike you, I didn’t win the parent lottery. My mom’s gone and she wasn’t here when she was here…if that makes sense. And my dad hates me. End of story.”
“But that’s not the way it has to end,” I said in a calm, neutral tone to offset his growing agitation. “Why don’t you take control?”
He let out a humorless huff. “This isn’t like Zero finding the right label, Char. This is a little more personal and it goes a little deeper.”
I waited a beat, then let out a rush of air. “Okay, but I understand better than you think I do. Everyone’s story is different, Ky. You can’t judge mine based on yours. It’s not fair. Yeah, I have a lot to be grateful for and I am.
But I’ve had my own battles to fight and that’s what…”
“What?” he prodded. When I didn’t reply right away, he walked to a bench facing a tattoo parlor and flipped his board in the air and caught it by the nose before sitting, patting the empty space beside him. “C’mere and talk to me. I’m only charging five cents for this session.”
I quirked my lips in a lopsided smile and complied. “I’m not talking to you if you’re going to get mad.”
“I’m not gonna get mad. But since when do you care if you rock the boat?”
“You’re right. Check your preserver, then, I’m moving in,” I joked, setting the thermos between us. “You have to fight, Ky. You can’t keep ignoring him. It’s making you miserable.”
He opened his mouth like a fish out of water. “Are you kidding me? I fucking love my life right now. I have Zero and you and…I don’t need him. Geez, just talking about him makes me miserable. Did I tell you he was in a band?”
“No. Really?”
“Yeah. He played guitar in a bluegrass folk group. They weren’t famous, but they were popular enough that they could make a living, I guess.”
“He must like that you’re a musician too,” I said feebly.
“No. I don’t think he wanted me to play at all. He never encouraged music. He was slow to praise, but very quick to criticize. And quick to anger too. The broken arm I told you about? That was ’cause I touched his guitar.”
“Oh, my God.”
“Yeah. Real fuckin’ quality guy. But hey, he went away, found Jesus and a rich divorcée, and decided he was a changed man. He wasn’t. He hated when I joined a band in high school, and when I told him that I’d switched directions and decided to skateboard professionally, he flipped. At my mother’s fucking funeral, no less,” he growled. “She used to say we were so alike. Maybe that’s what he hated. Maybe he hates himself and I remind him of everything he got wrong. Who knows? We almost came to blows at her service. We agreed not to see each other again and…I think it’s for the best.”
“But what if he’s dying, Ky? He has no power over you. It doesn’t matter if he praises you or rips you apart anyway. You know you’re good. You know you’re talented and smart and worthy. You don’t need his opinion or—”
“No, I don’t.” Ky shifted on the bench and thumped his fist against his chest twice then grunted. “You want a real opinion you can trust, you get it here.”
I jolted. Thank God we were sitting. I’d heard that line before. The first time I saw the man with the baseball cap at a Zero show. “Where’d that come from? Who said that?”
“My dad. He had dozens of so-called helpful one-liners. He’s like a mad pirate who throws his first mate overboard, then tosses him a rope, but won’t pull him in. I’ve learned a couple of invaluable lessons from him. One…never commit if you can’t follow through. And two…never have kids.”
My head was reeling as my brain worked frantically to put the pieces together. And when I did, it was verbal vomit at its worst.
“Your dad comes to your shows,” I blurted. “I think your dad is Nelson. He’s the critic who said Zero sucks, but he comes back every time. He was there last night.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“The critic,” I repeated, jumping to my feet. “The guy who hates Zero. Nelson Cormer.”
“My dad’s name isn’t Nelson.”
“Is it Ed?”
Ky’s forehead creased. “Yeah, but I probably told you that or—”
“No. You’ve never told me his name, and I didn’t ask because I know there’s bad blood. But why would he come to your shows?” I paced a few feet away, then turned back to him. “He never says anything nice but…”
“Well, that part sounds about right,” Ky huffed, pulling my wrist in a wordless request for me to sit beside him. “But he’s not a writer.”
“He is. And he’s not bad, which isn’t great for us. He writes crappy things about you guys, and he goes out of his way to mention Declan. Do you think your dad helped get him signed at Sandstone? Is he friends with those guys?”
Ky didn’t speak for a long moment. “I don’t know.”
“I understand family issues like no one’s business, but I don’t see why he’d actively work against you. You need to talk to him and find out what he’s up to and—”
“No.” He turned to face me and shook his head vehemently. “I’m not going to.”
“Then I will.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Yes, I will,” I repeated. “I want an explanation. He can’t get away with this. He’s fuckin’ with your band and messing with your head, and if you’re not going to stick up for yourself and find out why, then I will!”
Ky took his sunglasses off and fixed me with a stern look. “Take a seat, hothead. This isn’t your battle. You don’t even know if it’s the same person.”
“Okay. I’ll ask.” I changed my tone to something less combative, then added, “Assuming I’m right…why would he do it? Or maybe I should ask if your dad is the type of guy who’d blatantly try to sabotage your career.”
“Yeah, it’s definitely something he’d do. He was one of those ‘Do as I say, not as I do’ parents. He didn’t like being disobeyed. And had poetic ways to ‘teach me a lesson.’ When my mom told him I entered a local skateboard competition, he said it was a waste of time and told me to drop out and study. I did it anyway and I won. Instead of congratulating me, he dismantled my board and left the pieces on the front porch. When I was a senior in high school, I had a crush on a guy. It wasn’t my first time, but it was the first time I wanted to do anything about it. My mom was going through treatment and she was in a bad place. My sister had moved back in to help take care of her. It was an ugly time for sure, but my dad was nowhere around. They were divorced, I get it. He had a new wife and Mona had money and older kids and…they were probably everything he hoped Karly and I would have been. So, I really didn’t think he gave a shit what I did or didn’t do anymore. So I asked this guy out. I think his name was Ryan—”
“Such a pretentious name,” I said sarcastically.
Ky chuckled, then cupped my neck and drew me close to press a kiss on my lips. “I love it when you get jealous. It’s cute. You want to hear this or not?”
“I don’t know. I’m afraid I’m going to get really mad.”
“Maybe, but it was a long time ago.” He tugged one of my curls playfully. “Ryan and I went out a couple of times. He wasn’t the love of my life.”
“I am,” I joked.
“Maybe you are.” Before I could weigh the possibility that he might be serious, he continued. “We screwed around a bit, hung out, and acted like we didn’t give a shit if anyone noticed a couple of skater punks who occasionally stuck their tongues down each other’s throats in the school cafeteria. Someone took a picture and put it on the internet. It was a while ago, so it was probably Myspace. Didn’t matter to me or Ryan. My mom didn’t care, my sister thought it was cute, but my dad…the same guy who went MIA for months at a time, popped up out of the blue and went fucking bananas. He screamed bloody murder at me about being a fuckin’ queer and my mom being a useless bitch until someone called the cops.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No, he didn’t touch me. And I didn’t punch him, even though I wanted to. But I laughed and I think that was worse. He went to my high school the next day and posted blown up posters of the kiss in the quad. No shit. They caught it on camera. Crazy motherfucker,” he huffed. “I guess he thought that if he embarrassed me, I’d stop being queer. Funny that it didn’t work. I wasn’t even that into Ryan, but we went out for at least a month after that as a warped ‘fuck-you.’ I almost didn’t want to go out with girls for a while because it felt so good knowing my bi-ness got under his skin. The more he threw at me, the more passive-aggressive I got. Call me what you want, say what you want, but don’t expect me to engage. I’m not telling anyone I’m gay, straight, bi, in a band, i
n a relationship.…It’s no one’s business what I do or why I do it. Especially not his. So, if he’s decided to become a critic and rip what I love apart, that’s his problem. Not mine. I’m good in here”—Ky tapped his head and smiled—“and I don’t need his approval.”
I bit the inside of my cheek and made myself count to ten before I unleashed my scathing and possibly insulting opinion. When the initial red haze of anger faded to a dark pink, I gave it a shot.
“Of course you don’t need his approval. You need to tell him where to shove it,” I growled. “He sounds perfectly hideous. What did the school do about the posters? Did they charge him with vandalism?”
“No, they took them down, asked him not to do it again, then gave Ryan and me detention for being late to class that morning,” he snorted.
“Where is this school? Who’s in charge? Who should I contact? I’m taking this to the district. How dare they—”
Ky crashed his mouth over mine to shut me up. He softened the connection before pulling back with a smile. “Thanks for sticking up for me, baby. It was a long time ago. I was okay then and I’m okay now. Ignore him.”
“I can’t do that. It’s my job to launch Zero. If I sense a danger to the band, I need to investigate it. Maybe it’s not him, but if it is—”
“Then let it go.”
I balled my fists and growled menacingly. “I can’t promise you that.”
“I’m serious, Charlie. I don’t want you to talk to him. This isn’t about the band. It’s personal. It’s my story and I’m not letting him in. I know that’s not the way you like to deal with things, but when it comes to him, it’s better for me to leave some distance.” He unfurled my fists and flattened his palm over mine. “And by the way, you’re a fuckin’ grizzly when you get pissed. I’m glad you’re on my side.”
“I don’t like cruelty and I hate that life is so unfair,” I replied lamely.
Ky caressed my chin before sliding his fingers through my hair. “Me too. But sometimes life can surprise you too. I’m grateful for the good stuff, Char. Like you.”
