The Good Neighbor: A Novel

by Jay Quinn

  “Promise?” Meg asked.

  Her unfeigned hopefulness stung him. Austin nodded. “Promise,” he replied with conviction.

  Meg rewarded him with a happy smile. “Well, go get your long, tall butt in the shower then, boy. We got places to go.”

  Austin grinned and made his way from the pool deck into the house. He was happy that Meg was trying to get back to where they always been before. He also felt as if he’d been shot at and missed.

  5150 ST. MARK’S COURT

  BRUNO STOOD IN the darkness of his drive and gave the driver a tip. For a moment after the man closed his door and drove away, Bruno stood looking at the dark hulk of his house. There wasn’t a single light on to greet him. It was only a little past seven, and Rory didn’t expect him until after ten. He dreaded going in to find a cold welcome. The black weight of his home loomed over him as heavy as a promise of punishment. Where he had left as a confident man of the world, he’d returned as a shamefaced boy. With a bowed head, he grasped the handle of his carry-on bag and made his way up the drive, dragging it behind him.

  Once he’d found his house key in the tomblike darkness of his porch, he let himself into the darker air-conditioned chill inside. Rory was nowhere to be seen; not even Bridget ran to greet him. He was immediately flooded with panic. He left his bag and briefcase by the door and headed to the family room. Unable to bear the still, black silence, he turned on every familiar light along the way. He saw a glow through the sliding glass door that turned out to be a candle lit on the table that held his stash box. Rory sat like an angel in a nativity scene within its shallow yellow pool. He could just make out the calm outline of his dog at his lover’s feet. His already rapidly beating heart broke a little at the tableau, and he wanted more than anything to be already there, a part of it.

  Bruno slid the door aside as quietly as he could so as not to startle them; still, Bridget got quickly to her feet and growled threateningly. Rory only turned his face toward the sound and sat tensed, waiting to see what unexpected threat was poised in the doorway. Bruno had taught him long ago never to show fear, it only escalated the threat. Now, Rory sat waiting for whatever would be undeservedly thrown at him next. “It’s me,” Bruno said, his voice cracking, “I’m home.”

  Bridget barked happily and rushed for the door. Rory stood in the near darkness and waited for the dog to welcome Bruno first. Bruno quickly knelt and rubbed her big head before he and the dog both walked toward Rory. Surprisingly, he simply opened his arms and lifted them, welcoming Bruno into his embrace, welcoming him home.

  Bruno stepped into his arms gratefully and hugged him close. He nuzzled the top of Rory’s head and breathed in his deep, clean smell as if it was the best scent in the world. He held Rory so long that he finally took Bruno’s upper arms in his hands and gently pushed him away. “I caught an earlier flight,” Bruno said. “I just wanted to come home.”

  Rory nodded and said, “Poor beast, can I get you something to drink?”

  Bruno sank into the wicker sofa’s generous cushions and pulled Rory down to sit beside him. “I was scared you wouldn’t be here when I got back,” he said. “Then the house was all dark. Jesus, Rory, I’m so sorry I fucked up.”

  Rory laughed gently and reached to undo Bruno’s tie. “No you’re not. You’re sorry you got caught. You’ve been fucking around on me for years.” He swiftly loosened the knot and pulled the tie free from Bruno’s collar. Efficiently he lifted Bruno’s hung head by the chin and undid the top button of his skirt, then the next one down. “C’mon, give,” he said and pulled back the lapels of Bruno’s suit coat.

  Obediently, Bruno moved his large shoulders in the small space and shucked the jacket. Rory took it from him and draped it over his arm as he stood. “Don’t bother to apologize. You’ve already explained, and I really don’t want to hear any more. I got your phone messages and I think you’ve punished yourself enough.”

  Bruno raised his head and tried not to smile. “Will you forgive me?”

  “Goddamn you, you’re like a six-year-old who’s been caught in a lie,” Rory said disgustedly. “You know every way in the world to get around me, why would this time be any different?”

  Bruno looked genuinely hurt, even in the near darkness.

  Rory decided that was enough. “Will, you stupid, stupid man. You know I’m stuck with you. Of course I forgive you. I’d forgive you murder, though God knows I’ve wanted to fucking kill you on more than one occasion.”

  “I guess I’d deserve it,” Bruno said miserably.

  “Yeah, yeah, you do this time, and probably all the times to come, but right now you’re home and that’s all that matters.”

  Bruno leaned forward and, resting his forearms on his thighs, hung his head once more.

  “How’s Brian?” Rory asked gently.

  Bruno looked up at him and shook his head. “They slit him open like a hog, Rory. You should have seen him laying there in ICU zippered up from his throat to his navel. They shaved him slick as a baby. That’s what he looks like, a big cut-up baby.”

  “But he’s going to be okay, right?” Rory asked with real concern.

  “Yeah, now it’s all diet and exercise. I couldn’t believe how much he’d let himself go. I mean, he was always my big mean-assed brother. He had a body that was built like a brick shithouse. Now he’s got these man tits. It scared me, Rory,” Bruno admitted hopelessly.

  “Why, Will?” Rory said gently.

  “Because without you, if I had a bitch of a wife like his, I’d end up being the same way. Butchered like a fat hog on a hook,” Bruno said fearfully. “I don’t want to end up that way.”

  “You won’t as long as I’m looking after you,” Rory said softly and stroked his big head as fondly as Bruno had stroked Bridget’s not moments before.

  Bruno’s shoulders trembled and he sniffled. “Please don’t leave me,” he said bleakly. “I know I’m an asshole sometimes, but…” with that he sniffled once more and awkwardly wiped at his eyes with the heel of his hand.

  “Hush,” Rory whispered. “I’m not going anywhere. Got it?”

  Bruno nodded and sat up. The wetness on his cheeks gleamed tellingly in the candle’s glow.

  “Good. Now dry up and tell me what you want to drink,” Rory said with earned authority.

  “Can I have something to eat? I’m starved,” Bruno said hopefully.

  “Jesus, you’re just like a dog. You at least had enough sense to come back home where you belong,” Rory said and laughed. “And that’s all I want.

  “I’m glad,” Bruno said honestly, “because I love you a lot.”

  “Whatever,” Rory said breezily and turned to go.

  “Wait,” Bruno said anxiously. “What have you been up to? I mean, were you just ignoring my calls altogether or have you been out having fun?”

  Rory paused, almost imperceptibly and then continued toward the door. “I’m here now,” he said over his shoulder.

  “Yeah,” Bruno said as Rory stepped into the house. “Right where you belong,” Bruno teased.

  Though Bruno waited, Rory didn’t respond.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Tender loving care

  ST. MARK’S COURT

  AT FIRST, JOSH only complained of a headache coming home from church on Sunday. By suppertime he had chills and fever. Noah’s head began to ache in sympathy. By Monday morning the Harden household was in the unforgiving grip of the flu. Austin’s last week at home before returning to work in Boca became focused on providing the boys with all the tender loving care they needed to mend as rapidly as possible in order to return to school. Any thoughts of Rory were subsumed to temperature takings and medication dispensary, until his own headache grew crippling and Meg tiredly pronounced it was time for him to get into bed himself.

  While the boys’ resistance triumphed over the virus enough to have them back in school on Thursday, Austin’s flu raged into a ragged deep cough that necessitated a trip to the doctor’s office ea
rly Friday morning. By eleven A.M., he pulled back into his drive with a diagnosis of bronchitis, and a bag holding three bottles of drugs and another of Vicks VapoRub. Aching and tired, he had long since left behind any thoughts of Rory as he got out of the minivan and heard him say, “Where have you been all week, stranger?”

  Austin looked across the yards to see Rory standing by his car with a thick roll of blueprints in his hand. “It’s been a rough week,” Austin said hoarsely. “We’ve had the flu.”

  “You sound like you’re still sick,” Rory said with real concern.

  “Bronchitis,” Austin explained and held up the drugstore bag. “I feel like shit.”

  Rory laid the roll of plans on the hood of his car and walked quickly across the yards. “I’m sorry,” he said as he came to stand close to Austin’s tall form. “I wondered why I hadn’t seen you. I was wondering if, well… you know how we left it after we got back from Fort Myers. I had no idea you were sick. You should have called.”

  Austin tried to smile, but instead glanced at his front door longingly. “I was busy taking care of the kids at first,” he said and looked back to Rory. “Then I came down with the stupid shit. I’m sorry, Rory. I feel like hell, I better get back inside,” with that he turned toward the door.

  “Wait,” Rory said and took his arm. “Is there anything I can do? I’ve got to drop off those plans with a contractor for a job I’m doing, but I’ll be right back.”

  Austin looked at Rory’s hand on his arm, then looked around nervously. “I’m okay, seriously.”

  Rory let go of his arm quickly and took a step back. “How about I bring you some lunch, some soup maybe?”

  Austin looked at him gratefully. “That would really be nice of you, if it’s no trouble.”

  Rory glanced at his watch and then firmly said, “You get inside and take it easy. I’ll be back within an hour.”

  Austin smiled at him. “Thanks,” he said and looked around, “buddy,” he added tenderly.

  Rory rewarded him with a grin and took off back across the yards.

  Austin watched him until he backed his car out of the drive. Rory waved at him as he pulled off down St. Mark’s Court, and Austin returned his farewell with an upraised arm. Once he’d turned off their street, Austin sighed and let himself into the house. He quickly went upstairs and changed into a ratty but clean pair of sweat pants and T-shirt before returning downstairs to wash his first dose of medicine down with a cold Coke straight from the can. Absently, he lined the bottles of pills and the Vicks on the bar before a coughing fit overtook him. Suddenly he felt like he either needed to lie down or fall down.

  Austin really wanted to find his way to a lounge chair outside in the sun. The promise of warmth to soothe his aching chest had a great deal of appeal, but he also realized how much he wanted to see Rory. The thought occurred to him that if he was outside he wouldn’t be able to hear him knocking when he came back. Believing Rory would simply think he was sleeping and go away wrenched at him, he looked into the family room and considered Meg’s prim sofa as an alternative. Sighing in resignation, he made his way to it and stretched out. It didn’t accommodate his tall frame, so he turned on his side and drew his legs up. It was only grudgingly comfortable, but he thought it would do until Rory came back, and then he was sure everything would be much better.

  So Austin lay on the sofa while his fevered imagination conjured thoughts of Rory. Today’s visit would in no way match how he’d dreamed of spending his last day off, enjoying Rory all to himself. Austin had some pretty big plans for the two of them going into the past week. All of them involved putting Rory through some inventive paces. Instinctively Austin understood that something special was coming to a close. He had no doubts that he and Rory would manage to do it after he went back to work, but Austin’s creativity didn’t extend to imagining situations convenient enough and lasting long enough for the kind of sex the past few weeks had provided.

  So Austin lay and drowsed, tumescent with desire and regret. Pictures flitted in his mind as rapidly as gay triple-X galleries on a computer screen. Mentally he could select any one and be rewarded with jpegs of specific acts. All Austin could do was allow them to cross his mind until he’d satisfied himself with the earnestness of the images and begun to call on his own recent reels of actual experience. He played his scenes with Rory over and over in his mind, lingering on some and skipping over others to replay and repeat his favorites. Finally, he groaned from the new ache in his groin that had arrived to add to the catalogue of flu-induced aches. Austin was fervid for some touch, and he finally slept, lightly and haunted by his need.

  Startled by the doorbell, he sprang to his feet and was rewarded with a dizzying, blistering cough for his effort. He had to stop and hold on to the edge of the bar to steady himself along the way to the front door. At the doorbell’s second chime, he managed to croak that he was on the way, damning himself for his weakness and need.

  Rory greeted him with a clear plastic bag holding a quart container of soup. “Jewish penicillin,” he said and stepped past Austin into the house.

  “What the hell is that?” Austin said tiredly.

  “Matzoh ball soup,” Rory explained around a grin.

  Austin smiled. “I’ve never eaten that in my life,” he admitted.

  “Then this is the best time to try it,” Rory said and waited for him to lead the way into the kitchen. “What else have you eaten today?”

  “Nothing,” Austin said miserably.

  Once they arrived at the bar, Austin stepped around it to retrieve a spoon and napkin as Rory sat and took the container from the plastic bag. Once he had the items in hand, Austin joined Rory on the opposite side of the bar and sat next to him. Peering inside the container he regarded the matzoh balls skeptically. “What are they made of?”

  “A kind of cracker-type meal,” Rory replied. “Don’t think about it, just eat it.”

  “I guess some work came in for you, huh?” Austin asked as he cautiously cut a small section of a matzoh ball with the edge of his spoon.

  “Yeah,” Rory said. “And I just picked up two small jobs from the same client when I dropped the big job off. They’re not any big deal, just nice simple money-makers.”

  Austin ate the grainy-looking stuff in his spoon and chewed thoughtfully. “It’s sorta like chicken and dumplings,” he said with relief. “But not as corny tasting.”

  “Exactly,” Rory said. “Now eat.”

  Austin obliged him with a whetted appetite that surprised him. “This is pretty good,” he admitted.

  Rory watched him eat and chattered along easily about his work, while Austin consumed all of the matzoh balls and most of the soup before putting his spoon down and pushing the container away. Unapologetically, he burped and gave Rory a grin. “Thanks, I really needed that.”

  “I thought you might. Feel better?”

  Austin nodded.

  “Works every time,” Rory said and started to stand.

  “When are you going to hear from that record producer guy?” Austin asked suddenly. He wasn’t ready or willing for Rory to leave yet. Already disappointed by his flu, he didn’t want to abandon all hopes for intimacy now that, with some lunch in him, he was feeling better.

  Rory relaxed back into his seat. “I have no idea. It could be weeks or months yet. The tracks have to be tweaked and sweetened, then the CD has to be burned,” Rory sighed and gave him a rueful smile, “The group could run out of production money or split up. Anyway, I got paid and the check was good. That’s about all I can count on really.”

  Austin nodded. “Sounds like a lot of bullshit to put up with.”

  Rory mistook his terse answer for forgivable irritation. He said, “Well, I better scoot and let you get back to work on feeling better.”

  “Don’t go,” Austin said quickly and put his hand on Rory’s wrist. “Keep me company a little while, please?”

  Rory searched his face, and then said casually, “Do you feel like
sitting outside? I could use a cigarette.”

  Austin looked a little disappointed, but he thought once more of sitting in the sun and feeling it warm his aching chest. He stood and said, “Just for a cigarette, okay?”

  Rory nodded and followed him out through the sliding glass door. Once Austin had settled into a sunny spot, Rory sat nearby, but far enough away to keep the cigarette’s smoke from getting anywhere near Austin.

  “I wish you didn’t have to sit way over there,” Austin said irritably.

  Rory lit his cigarette and grinned. “You don’t need the smoke, and I don’t need your germs.”

  Austin gave him a hurt look. “I’m not contagious now,” he said stiffly. “But I can imagine you are scared of bronchitis, the way you have to smoke all the time.”

  “Actually, I’ve gone back to smoking only three a day,” Rory said calmly. “It’s only when I’m around you that I seem to want to smoke so much.”

  “Do I still make you nervous?” Austin said and grinned.

  “Yeah,” Rory admitted. “You have this sexy way of looking at me and making me want to do things I shouldn’t.”

  “Yeah, right.” Austin said with an irony that freshened his grin. “I know I’m such a stud. It’s you that’s got this sexy thing going…” At that, he launched into a series of coughs than grew to deep dry hacks.

  Rory took a deep hit off his cigarette and stepped out of the pool enclosure to flick the thing in the yard. While he was outside and well away, he exhaled and stood for a moment, waiting until he heard Austin’s cough subside before returning inside. “You need to get back in the house,” he said firmly, “and I need to go.”

  Austin motioned him back into his seat. “I’m not dying, yet,” he said.

  “You sure do sound like it,” Rory said.

  “Sit,” Austin said with authority. “I’m not ready for you to leave.”

  Rory hesitated, but sat, perched only on the edge of his seat.

  “How are things since Bruno came back,” Austin asked.