Bad Influence

by K.A. Mitchell

  Now she faked a pleasant complaint. “My head is pounding and you’re shouting.”

  Silver would have suggested she lay off the merlot, but he really didn’t care anymore.

  “Have a thought for your soul, Jordan.” His father had come up behind him.

  “Did you talk to him, Thomas? Honey, we only want you to be with us in heaven. With Nana and Grandpa and Ginger. You can be. We can fix it.”

  Silver would rather take another backhand from his father than this faked softness from his mother. Emotional blackmail only worked if he gave a shit.

  “Your church says dogs don’t go to heaven, remember?” Silver did. Every bit of being twelve and having to put Ginger to sleep, consoling himself with the idea of Ginger running around up there waiting to come bouncing up to meet him when he died. He talked about it so much, his parents brought him in to talk to Pastor Stu, who had calmly but emphatically explained animals didn’t have souls and couldn’t go to heaven. Silver had responded that he would rather go to hell then himself.

  Come to think of it, that was how he felt about it if he was going to be stuck with Cheryl and Thomas for eternity too.

  Silver opened the door to permanent escape.

  “The door is always open if you want to change.” Thomas’s voice was so kind and calm, you’d never know he’d just split his son’s lip.

  Silver stepped over the threshold. “On this side, it’s closed.” He pulled the door shut behind him.

  Chapter Eleven

  ZEB’S PONTIAC was in front of the next house down. Silver raised the folder to shadow the mark he could feel swelling the right side of his face as he hurried down the walk. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t want Zeb to see it. The bleeding had stopped, so Silver didn’t have to worry about his contaminated blood getting anywhere. And being backhanded meant the bruise faced away from Zeb. Maybe it didn’t look as bad as it felt.

  “Did you get everything you needed?” Zeb asked as Silver settled himself in the passenger seat.

  And then some. Silver poked with his tongue at the fat part inside his mouth, then opened the folder to double-check. The thing that had looked like a form with boxes was his certified birth certificate. Then there was the social security card, and best of all, his license, still valid.

  It was totally worth a split lip.

  “Yeah. I’m good.” Silver grabbed for the seat belt and latched himself in. In a few minutes, he’d be done with New Freedom for good. Bonus, they’d even be back in plenty of time for Eli’s show opening.

  “I’m glad.” Zeb popped open his door. “I’ll only be a few minutes. I’ll leave it running for the AC.”

  Zeb was already at the bottom of the walk before Silver’s brain caught up to what his eyes were telling him. Fuck. What the hell did Zeb want with them?

  By the time Silver had wrestled free of the seat belt and shut off the car, Zeb was at the door. Despite a breathless sprint, Silver didn’t make it to the stoop until the show was already in progress.

  “—still perverting my son?” His father’s face was pale under the golfing tan, his voice a low, furious whisper, a stabbing finger an inch from Zeb’s chest.

  “Using his innocent love of God to lead him into sodomy.” Cheryl clutched the doorjamb and her pearls with equal intensity. Probably so she didn’t face-plant on the welcome mat. “I trusted you, a child molester, to shepherd my only son.”

  Silver wanted to share the embarrassing absurdity of her posturing with Zeb. But Zeb wasn’t making eye contact. With anyone. Shoulders hunched and head down, he was just taking it.

  “Call the police, Cheryl.” Thomas puffed himself up, chest out, head back. “We’ll send this pedophile to jail like we should have then.”

  Even then Zeb didn’t say anything.

  This might have been a good prank on one of those hidden camera reality shows, but as real life, it sucked.

  “You can’t have him arrested. I’m twenty fucking years old.” Silver got in front of Zeb.

  “Watch your language in front of your mother.” His father jabbed a hand like a knife against Silver’s chest.

  “Or you’ll hit me again? You know what? Call the cops. I’m pressing charges for assault.”

  That got Zeb’s attention. An audible intake of breath and a gentle turn of Silver’s head. “Jordan.” Zeb’s whisper sounded pained, like he was the one who’d been hit.

  Silver pulled free. “Did it leave a nice mark? That’ll look good in the paper and online, Dr. Barnett. Maybe my impressive representation could hook me up with a personal-injury lawsuit.”

  Cheryl’s hand went from her throat to her husband’s shoulder. The squeeze looked painful. Maybe her perfect manicure pierced the skin, because Thomas deflated like a popped balloon.

  How had these people ever had any power over him? Why had he cared what they thought of him? “And I can’t wait for the trial so everyone in town can hear exactly what filthy sodomizing I did. Every detail of cocksucking and ass—”

  “Enough.” His father pushed Silver into Zeb, and they both fell off the stoop. “Get out. Just get out.”

  “No cops?” Silver smiled, flashing his teeth.

  Zeb grabbed Silver’s wrist and pulled, but it was over. The door shut, and it was only the two of them trampling the landscaping.

  Silver waved at the lady neighbor on the left who was pretending to do something to her dogwood as she eavesdropped.

  Zeb reached for Silver’s cheek. “Are you all right?”

  “It’s fine.” He knocked the hand away. “I’ve had worse.”

  “He’s hit you before? I should have come with you.”

  “Because that went so well.” Silver wanted to know why the hell Zeb had bothered with his parents even now, but he wasn’t giving Dogwood Lady any more free drama. That’s what HBO was for. “Not that I give a shit about any of these assholes, but let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  Zeb nodded, lips white and bloodless. A quick tremor echoed up Silver’s arm as he pressed the keys into Zeb’s palm.

  “You okay?”

  “Yes.” Zeb turned away.

  The air in the car was so thick Silver couldn’t find words to fit his questions. Right before they got back on 83, Zeb swung the car off into Polson’s Auto and Tires, bouncing and scraping over the rutted dirt and gravel. No matter how hard Silver stomped, there was no brake pedal on his side of the car, but he didn’t stop trying until they jerked to a stop a few feet from the trees bordering the lot.

  Zeb shoved open his door and staggered into the brush before hunching over, hands on his thighs. Silver pushed his own door open and followed cautiously. Carsick? But Zeb hadn’t puked. He was only sucking wind.

  Silver put a hand on Zeb’s shoulder. The skin shuddered, his whole body vibrating. “Zeb? You okay?”

  A long noisy exhale and another deep breath.

  Shaking and hot. “Is it malaria, a relapse?” So maybe he’d looked it up, what could happen long-term after the initial infection.

  Zeb let out another breath and then stood straight, though he didn’t turn around.

  Silver felt ridiculous with his hand resting on Zeb’s shoulder, so he yanked it back.

  “No. I’m fine. I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah. No. This is not fine.”

  He knew Zeb. There may have been some changes, but the three years in between now and then couldn’t change knowing the shifting colors of his eyes, the quirks of his smiles, what tension and complete relaxation looked like on every part of his body.

  But Silver had never seen Zeb like this. And with Zeb not looking at him, Silver didn’t know what to do.

  If Zeb wouldn’t turn around, Silver would go to where his face was. He stepped around him, pants catching on sticks and leaves. He tore free and stood squarely in front of him.

  Zeb was rubbing his shoulder and upper arm. Silver hadn’t gripped him hard, hadn’t bled on him. What was that about?

  Zeb tried that patient, distant sm
ile. “I’ll be okay in a minute. Sorry,” he said again. “You can go back to the car. I’ll still get us back in time.”

  “The fuck you will.”

  The smile froze for a second then resumed its curve. “Excuse me?”

  “You may not trust other drivers, but I don’t trust you to get me back in one piece right now. Christ, you’re still shaking.”

  Zeb gripped his arm more tightly, pain rippling his forehead, making his eyes into slits.

  “Did you get hurt when you pulled off the road?”

  “No.” Zeb turned like he was going to go back to the car.

  Silver got around in front of him to block his path. “What the hell was that all about, you talking to my parents?”

  Zeb’s dark gaze lasered in on the place on Silver’s cheek where it felt thick and hot.

  A shake of Zeb’s head and he started forward.

  “What does that mean?” Silver caught Zeb’s wrist.

  “It means it’s none of your business, Jordan.”

  Silver stared back, digging behind that pleasant mask Zeb seemed to wear so much more now than he ever used to. The one that made everyone think he was a sanctimonious prig. He’d almost convinced Silver that fun Zeb was gone, except for the drive up in the car. That crooked smile. The slanted humor in his eyes.

  Silver wasn’t giving up. He pictured Zeb on the stoop, taking that abuse from his parents, letting them call him names and—

  “Holy fuck. You believe it.”

  Zeb’s fingers tightened on his arm. “What?”

  “You think you deserve it? Is that why you wanted to come? So you could let them nail you to a cross?”

  “Don’t talk like that.”

  Silver controlled the urge to roll his eyes. “Okay. Then tell me why.”

  “I owed them an apology.”

  “For what?” Silver couldn’t stop disgust from filling his voice.

  The pain on Zeb’s face made Silver furious. He wanted to stomp off to the car, let Zeb roast in his own stupid self-made hell. He couldn’t really buy all that crap.

  “You didn’t—pervert me. I came after you. God, I’d have jumped your bones a lot sooner than you let me.”

  Zeb shook his head.

  “For fuck’s sake, you’re not a pedophile.”

  “No?” At last there was that cynical half smile, but it was all wrong.

  “No.” Silver put as much force as he could into the word.

  Zeb’s hands landed on Silver’s shoulders as if he’d shake him, then slid down in almost a caress before gripping his biceps. His eyes were so dark they could have been black. “I knew you lied about your age. I don’t know when I knew it. I didn’t want to.”

  Zeb glanced away for a minute. When he looked back, his eyes were wet. “I pretended to believe you, but deep down, I knew. I wanted you so much. God help me. I wanted you anyway. I’d never wanted anything as much as I wanted you. Never. And I ruined your life.”

  Silver wanted to chase that look off Zeb’s face. Send it somewhere Silver would never have to see it again. The corner of his mouth lifted. “So… I made your dick hard, huh?”

  Zeb squeezed once then let him go. “It was wrong.”

  “Didn’t feel wrong to me. Or—” The sudden thought made the earth drop away from Silver’s feet. He wished Zeb was still holding on. Because there was this huge ragged hole between what Silver had always thought and what Zeb was saying. And maybe the real reason Zeb wouldn’t help that night was echoing in Silver’s ears. “Or were you only pretending when you said you loved me too?”

  “No. I swear to God, no, Jordan. I’d never pretend—about that.”

  “So what’s the big deal? You were only, what, twenty-two?”

  “It was wrong,” Zeb repeated.

  “Think about it. Was there ever so much as a single second where it seemed like I didn’t know exactly what I was doing and what I wanted?”

  Zeb might have been the one with a little experience, but Silver had led every step of the way.

  “Wait a minute. Is that why you made us wait until my birthday before we actually fucked?”

  Zeb glanced down. “I hoped it meant you were eighteen.”

  “What the fuck is so magic about a day on the calendar? It had nothing to do with you and me. I mean, seriously, did I suddenly taste older?”

  “Jordan.” But it was muffled when Zeb buried his face in his hands.

  “You’ve been thinking that all this time? That you corrupted me? Ruined my life?”

  Zeb looked up. “Didn’t I? I just didn’t know how much.” His thumb grazed Silver’s sore cheek. “I’ve done so much worse than this.”

  Silver caught Zeb’s wrist again and dragged him closer. He didn’t resist, but he didn’t respond as Silver tucked a long wavy strand of warm brown hair behind an ear and dragged his own thumb across the hint of scruff on Zeb’s chin.

  “I always knew you had one hell of a god complex, heavy on the martyr side, with this hair and chin fuzz.” Silver shook Zeb’s trapped arm. “But could you get over yourself for a second? You can’t take credit for everything.”

  “I should have helped you that night when you came to me.”

  “Yeah. You should have.” Silver dropped Zeb’s arm and let out a big sigh. “And maybe I should have tried to figure something else out.” He moved his other arm to rest on Zeb’s neck. “It sucked, all right. But you weren’t responsible for all of it.” The muscles under his palm relaxed. Almost without his permission, Silver’s fingers rubbed the skin under Zeb’s hair. Fragile barrier over hard muscle and bone. Vulnerable soft skin Silver had licked the sweat from, sucked his mark into as their bodies crashed together. Zeb hadn’t been the only one full of a desperate wanting back then.

  But Silver’s wanting days were behind him. Stilling his fingers, he tipped Zeb’s head until their foreheads almost touched. “Besides—” Silver felt an odd trace of laughter in his throat. “—if I let you take all the credit for that, I’d have to let you take credit for things getting a lot better since you popped back up. And God knows I don’t need to feed into your complex.”

  Zeb gave a short laugh like the one Silver was holding back. “‘Better’ like getting arrested?”

  Silver shrugged. “Weirdly enough.”

  The shrug moved his head enough to brush Zeb’s, and that was all it took. Zeb’s arms wrapped around him, and Silver found himself hugging back. At first it felt like any other hug from a guy he wasn’t planning on having sex with—which in Silver’s world boiled down to a hug from Eli. Only holding Zeb didn’t require hunching over, and Zeb didn’t squeeze the breath out of a guy like Eli did.

  They shared an exhale, and it wasn’t a friendly hug anymore. It wasn’t suddenly about sex, but a gradual awareness of what their bodies had been to each other, the physical part of them jumping ahead of where their heads were. A little sway, a shift of pressure, and Silver’s face found that space in the crook of Zeb’s neck. Soft curls and the smell of his shampoo and skin and sweat. Home. Home the way the house on Appleblossom Road had never been. Something that had been missing dropped back into place with a click Silver felt all over his body. There was no need to run to or away from anything. Because he’d always belonged right here.

  He wanted to stay right here forever.

  “I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry, Jordan.”

  Until Zeb opened his stupid mouth and reminded them both why it couldn’t be that easy. The brief connection dissolved faster than paper in a storm drain. Should have known it could never stand up to any pressure.

  Silver shifted his weight back onto his own feet and patted at Zeb’s back. “It’s okay.”

  But when something that right could be broken again so quickly, he wasn’t sure anything ever would be.

  THERE MUST have been some sporting or concert thing going on in the city, because there was enough traffic going their way to make Zeb need to concentrate. At least that’s what Silver told himself as the s
ilence stretched on and on in the car.

  As the exit for Quinn’s house came up, Zeb blurted, “Does the lawyer think having legal ID will make sure you don’t go to jail?”

  “It’s more to show I’m following rules now. Besides, I needed it to sign up for the GED. The whole thing hinges on whether I used the other ID for illegal activities.”

  “Like buying alcohol?”

  Silver snorted. “Not really my thing. I don’t trust most people enough to be drunk around them—and I don’t do drugs. No. They’re looking to see if I signed up for any credit cards or stuff like that.”

  Zeb nodded, like that solved that problem. It was nice to know Zeb didn’t believe Silver would steal stuff, but the guy was still kind of clueless sometimes.

  “I didn’t, but someone else could have, using that name. I bought the ID, but it didn’t exactly come with a warranty.”

  Stopped at a light, Zeb shot him a questioning glance. “Why risk it?”

  It had gotten him the side income of porn faster since he didn’t have to wait until he was legal, but that wasn’t why he’d been willing to pay. “I was afraid my parents would find me and drag me off to that camp. They weren’t even looking.” Silver swallowed back shame, staring at the artwork on the produce truck ahead of them at the light.

  “From the way your cheek looks, that probably wasn’t a bad thing.”

  Silver could handle a lot more pain than a slap on his cheek. And anything was better than the solitary room at Path to Glory.

  He glanced over at Zeb as they accelerated away from the light.

  “I’ll drive you to the gallery. What time do you want me to pick you up?”

  They rounded the corner onto Rockspring Road. Quinn’s old-man Buick was still in the drive. Zeb’s Pontiac was marginally cooler. Red and newer. And not a Buick. Of course, he’d rather be rolling up in Gavin’s Bentley. That wasn’t a choice, and he’d already used enough of Zeb’s gas.

  “Don’t need a ride. Quinn’s still here.”

  “Right.” Zeb’s response was almost too quiet to hear.

  Silver popped open the door as soon as the car stopped. Weighed against the drama of the past hour, having his own ID barely balanced out, but a thank-you was probably the expected thing. He leaned back down to offer one, and Zeb gave him a crooked smile. “Be sure to tell Eli where that bruise came from. I don’t have a cup to wear under my pants tonight.”