Bad Influence

by K.A. Mitchell

  “Not one of your sexier moments, my friend.”

  “Good thing there was only a friend around to see it, then.” Eli stuck out his tongue.

  “Don’t be pissed at Quinn. He had a point about Zeb. So don’t think it has anything to do with you guys. Me and Zeb—there’s a lot of past shit involved. And there isn’t with you two. ’Sides, when you think of it, I owe Quinn a blow job or two for letting me crash in his house. You have to make good for me.” Silver stuffed the rest of his cone into his mouth. “If you can.”

  THERE MIGHT be too much past shit to know where he and Zeb were going, but things inside Silver still did a happy skip at the sight of the Pontiac next to the curb in front of Quinn’s house. They’d timed it perfectly to get back right at four.

  It had been a hot, thirsty walk from the bus stop with the chipotle chocolate burning in Silver’s mouth. He’d have a big glass of iced tea, and then he’d see if the leftover chilies would sizzle Zeb’s tongue. But as they got closer, Silver noticed two things that were seriously going to fuck up his plans.

  Zeb wasn’t in his car. Silver had forgotten Zeb and Quinn had gone into school together. And Marco sat on Quinn’s front steps, an overstuffed backpack next to him.

  “Hey.” Marco jumped to his feet as Silver and Eli came closer. “Eli, I hope you don’t mind I sat on the steps while waiting for Silver.” To Silver, Marco added, “I wanted to hang out, but when I went to the restaurant, I found out it was your day off. Lucky for me, huh?”

  Marco sucked at faking casual. The knot of oh-shit that had started in Silver’s stomach when he saw the backpack got fatter, more tangled.

  He cut to the chase. “What happened?”

  Marco slumped back on the stairs like someone had cut off his legs. “I can’t. I can’t be there anymore. It—he makes me hate everything. Hate myself.”

  Eli took a seat on the step under Marco’s. “Your brother?”

  “He made me go to the priest. He told the priest to fix me.”

  “Did he? The priest, I mean.”

  Marco and Eli both snapped their heads up to look at Silver with almost identical expressions of irritation.

  Then Marco smiled. “No. But he was very nice. The priest, I mean. And cute.” Marco winked.

  “What are you doing here, Marco?” Silver asked.

  “’Kay. I loved being here for dinner. You don’t know how much. Like heaven to sit and eat and not get sick with the yelling. When I went back, it was so much worse. You and Eli made out okay. So I thought you would know what I should do.”

  “Marco, Silver and I didn’t have a choice.” Eli said it more nicely than Silver would have put it.

  “And we lived on the street for a while. I told you about being a hust—whore.”

  “Oh.” Marco’s inquisitive look at Eli went unanswered.

  Eli tapped Marco’s thigh. “Did your brother tell you you couldn’t live there anymore?”

  “No. But—” Marco’s eyes widened. “Mierda.”

  Silver spun around. He’d have known they were in deep shit without Marco’s curse.

  There couldn’t be two cars with those toxic-green rims, even in East Baltimore. “Jesus, Marco. Does he have a LoJack on you?”

  Marco patted his jeans like he was taking that seriously and then said, “Soy un tonto. The GPS, I used it in Ernesto’s car. I didn’t think to erase it.”

  The fact that the black Firebird had to park two doors down to avoid driveways and a fire hydrant didn’t give Silver much time to plan.

  “Never mind.” Marco picked up his backpack. “I’ll go with him. I’m sorry. I’ll call you when I can.”

  Eli put his hand on Marco’s shoulder. “Wait.”

  Marco’s brother slammed the passenger door and started charging up the sidewalk. “Timo?” Eli muttered.

  “Yup.”

  Timo wasn’t much taller than Marco but a hell of a lot more thickly muscled. Premature gray bristled at the temples and in the stubble standing at attention on his angrily jutting jaw. But with Eli and the house behind them, they could handle Timo. The serious worry was the other guy, who looked like professional muscle. Since he’d been driving the car, Silver hoped he was Marco’s brother-in-law Ernesto and not a hit man.

  Without talking it out, Silver and Eli had taken a position in front of Marco on Quinn’s yard.

  Timo raced up, finger stabbing at Silver’s chest. “You. I told you if you came around him again, I’d kill you.”

  “He came to us,” Eli said.

  “I don’t care who came to who. Marco, get in the car. These boys aren’t your friends. They only want to make you like them. Maricónes.”

  “Seriously? Faggot is the best you got?” Eli rolled his eyes. “’Cause I’ve never heard that before.”

  Silver snuck a look around Timo at who he was guessing was Ernesto. He was about a yard back, looking like he’d rather be getting a root canal than standing there. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t wade in if it came to swinging. And if Eli kept baiting Timo, it would. There was a vein throbbing in his temple that might be one extra corpuscle away from an aneurysm.

  “Marco, I told you to get in the car, or I swear—” Timo tried to go around them on Silver’s side. When Silver moved to keep Marco behind him, that was the trigger. Timo shoved Silver out of the way.

  Silver didn’t know when he had decided, but no fucking way was this guy taking Marco anywhere. Silver locked his hand into a fist as he regained his balance. But before he could swing, there was an arm, then a body between them.

  Zeb.

  Timo let loose a stream of Spanish Silver couldn’t follow. But Zeb did. Silver had forgotten Zeb had spent his junior year of high school as a foreign exchange student in Argentina.

  When Silver’s ears caught up, he whispered a translation to Eli. “Zeb asked if Marco was eighteen. Timo says Marco is, but he’s too young to know and is something—something about the internet.” So much for Silver’s straight As in Spanish.

  Marco leaned in. “Timo thinks I got crushes on boys from watching TV shows on the internet.” He made a disgusted face. “Now they are arguing about religion.”

  “Good luck winning that round with Zeb,” Silver told them.

  Marco nodded. “Zeb can quote a lot of the Bible.”

  He was relieved when it went back to screaming rather than swinging. Although now that Quinn had joined them and stood next to Ernesto, Silver liked their odds if things got physical again.

  “Marco, chico, what did Father Rossi tell you?” Timo had gone from demanding to cajoling.

  “That God made me and He loves me.” Marco grinned. Silver tried not to laugh.

  The vein in Timo’s temple bulged. “What did he say about homosexuals?” His accent got thicker on the last word.

  “He said loving others is what God wants but any kind of sex before marriage was a sin, and I should carry a rosary and say my prayers if I start thinking about sex.”

  “See?” Timo threw his hand heavenward, as if he could get God to help make a point on his behalf.

  Marco blinked then held his eyes wide open in innocence. “Is that what happens when your nov—girlfriend Tessa comes over and you go in the bedroom and close the door? You say the rosary together? I’ve never heard it like that.”

  “That’s different.” The words came from behind Timo’s clenched teeth.

  “How?” Eli’s teeth were bared.

  Silver relaxed his fist, swallowing back not acid frustration but a warm burst of pride. Theirs was the winning side for once.

  Marco pressed the advantage. “Because a pussy is better than an ass?”

  “Because, God, Marco, because that’s how you make babies. That’s why it’s different. If that happens, I’ll marry Tessa.”

  “Blow jobs don’t make babies,” Marco said. “Doesn’t she suck—?”

  “No más.” Timo spit at their feet. “That’s it. You come home with us right now or—” Before Silver could stop him
, Timo grabbed Marco by the arm and was hauling him forward.

  Marco dug in his heels, twisting, tearing at Timo’s grip until he was free.

  “There is no or.” Timo’s voice was flat. “You have no choice.”

  “That’s not true.” Quinn’s voice was calm, but the rumble of it got Timo’s attention. Zeb stood next to Marco. “Do you want to go back with your brother?”

  Marco shook his head.

  “Eso es estúpido. Chico, where will you stay?”

  Quinn looked Marco in the eye. “You can stay here until you decide.”

  “Quinn?” Eli sucked in the name on a gasp.

  “So you can fuck him too? Pimp Daddy doesn’t have enough boy whores?” Timo snarled at Quinn.

  Marco’s gaze flicked from Quinn to Timo and back to Silver.

  He wanted to tell Marco to be safe. Silver just didn’t know what the safest choice was. He couldn’t imagine Marco managing to live with Timo after this, and Quinn and Eli would try to help—but Silver had thought he’d be safe with Zeb.

  Marco backed away from Timo.

  “You do this and you have no home, you understand?” Timo shook a finger in Marco’s face. “No family. Nothing.”

  Marco turned away. Silver saw the shine of tears on his eyes. “Sí. No tengo familia.”

  “Don’t think your sisters will help you because you are the baby. When I tell them what you are, they won’t want you around their children.”

  Marco stumbled, and Silver caught him, hugging him close. “It’s okay.”

  “I knew you were the one who did this to him.” Timo glared at Silver over Marco’s head.

  Marco’s arms went around Silver’s waist, and Silver hung on to him, staring Timo down.

  “You made your choice, chico.”

  Timo turned around and started back for Ernesto’s car. Marco squeezed Silver harder.

  Eli tapped Silver on the back. “Take him into the house.”

  Silver walked Marco up the steps. He was crying, but silently, which bothered Silver a lot more than if Marco had been ranting.

  He stopped in the foyer, unsure, Marco’s arm still clinging like a tentacle to Silver’s waist.

  “You want a drink—water or something?” Marco shook his head.

  Eli came in, Marco’s backpack over one shoulder. Silver met his gaze over Marco’s head.

  They’re gone, Eli mouthed, then jerked his chin in the direction of the stairs. “C’mon up to my room.” Silver urged Marco toward the stairs.

  At the top, Marco rubbed his face with the hand not twisted into Silver’s shirt. “¿El baño?”

  Silver steered him toward the bathroom. “I’m not holding it for you, though.” Marco gave him a weak smile.

  As soon as the door shut behind Marco, Silver’s text alert went off. Eli.

  Don’t leave him alone.

  Yeah. I’m not a total asshole, thanks, Silver sent back. He hoped Eli didn’t mean in the bathroom. After Silver heard the toilet flush, he knocked and the door swung open.

  Marco was washing his face. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I am a—el pato, a pussy.”

  “No, you’re not.” Silver went into the linen closet across the hall for a towel. “You stood up to him. That takes guts.”

  Marco’s knuckles showed white where he gripped the washcloth. “I couldn’t—it was too much, every day. But I didn’t think—”

  “Yeah.” Silver had known his parents weren’t going to like it. He just hadn’t known they’d rather see him dead. “I don’t think anybody does.”

  “After my parents died, mis ab—grandparents raised us in Cozumel, and then Timo and Isabella here. My classes. I can’t pay for my classes.” Marco bent over the sink, looking like he was going to puke.

  Silver put a hand on Marco’s shoulder and made a tentative pat on his back. “Want to shower?”

  Marco looked up at him with a lopsided smile. “But you’re not washing it for me? No.” He tossed the washcloth in the sink. “I can’t—I can’t think about anything, it all goes….” He raised a finger and spun it around like an out-of-control carousel.

  “So don’t.”

  They went into Silver’s room. Marco perched on the edge of the bed like he didn’t know what to do with himself. Silver didn’t give the cue, but his mind called up his first night, trying not to sneeze, hidden with the dust bunnies under Marissa’s bed until her parents left for work and she could drive him into Shrewsbury to the bus stop. He still owed her for the ticket.

  Silver gave Marco a gentle shove, and he sprawled back. “Does this mean a pity fuck?”

  Silver choked. The first thing that came to his mind—Where did you hear that?—made him feel a hundred years old.

  “No.”

  “Pity blow job?”

  “Not happening.” Silver stretched out on his back next to Marco.

  “Is that your boyfriend? The one with the long hair?” Marco rolled on his side, supporting his head with a cocked elbow.

  The boyfriend part of it was debatable but not worth getting into with Marco. “Yeah.”

  “He’s cute, but not what I thought you would like. He’s… quiet. I thought someone strong with nice muscles.” Marco made a biceps flex.

  Silver pictured the cuts over Zeb’s hips, how he should have licked them yesterday when he had the chance, remembered the power in his thighs, the unfamiliar damage to his hands. “He’s strong enough.”

  “Thank him. And thank you. For saving me. Again.”

  “Thank Quinn. I didn’t do anything.”

  “But they helped me because of you. Because it’s your family.”

  It’s only because of the judge. The protest came immediately to mind, but Silver didn’t say it. Because they kind of were. A family.

  Marco rolled onto his other side, facing away. Silver figured Marco was crying again, but he obviously didn’t want Silver to see.

  Silver stroked a hand through Marco’s curls. “Is it always this bad?” Marco asked.

  “At first. It gets better.” Maybe Silver should lie. But Marco deserved to know. “But it always hurts.” He put an arm around Marco and held him until he fell asleep.

  Chapter Twenty

  SILVER JERKED awake. He’d never intended to fall asleep. Marco was breathing deeply, curled in a tight ball like a kitten. Checking his phone, Silver found out he’d only been out for about twenty minutes, and Eli had sent a text every two minutes.

  I didn’t mean for you to fuck him. What are you doing up there?

  OMG cops R here!!!

  It’s OK. Quinn does responsible suburban homeowner well. Jamie showing up helped.

  Brother didn’t call cops. Nosy neighbor.

  Mrs. Murdoch. Sounds like a character on a sitcom. We’re getting pizza.

  Silver slipped downstairs. Voices in the dining room had him headed there in time to hear Jamie complain, “Christ, why the hell can’t these damn kids wait till they leave home before they announce they like dick? Like we did.”

  “That’s your solution?” Quinn’s growl was so different than his usual calm voice.

  Silver saw a little of what got Eli so hot and bothered.

  “How much of a choice do you think I had?” Eli said. “I didn’t announce it. I couldn’t fucking hide it.” He glanced up as Silver came in. “How is he?”

  Silver shrugged. “Asleep.” He clamped down on a sigh of relief when Zeb came in from the kitchen. Silver had expected him to have taken off after the showdown was over.

  Zeb met Silver’s eyes and gave him a smile that made him feel like the only person in the room.

  Jamie slammed back against his chair. “And in the meantime you’re going to run a home for wayward youth? I think the cops thought you were running a stable of boys out of here.”

  “The problem is that there isn’t anyplace in the city for them to go.” Zeb leaned against the archway to the kitchen. “Like a safe house.”

  “Well, Quinn can’t take ’em all in. Do you e
ven have a bed for this one?” Jamie jerked a thumb toward the ceiling.

  The doorbell rang, and Quinn pushed to his feet. “We can handle it.” He paused to rest his hands on Eli’s shoulders for a moment, then went into the hall.

  “I’ll get napkins.” Eli shoved back from the table, glaring at Jamie.

  Silver followed Eli into the kitchen, pausing to whisper, “Don’t take off, okay?” to Zeb. As Silver opened the fridge, he asked Eli, “Beer or soda?”

  “His Royal Asshattedness can deal with iced tea.” Eli got down some glasses.

  “Um. Thanks. For bailing out Marco like that.”

  “Quinn did it. I had no idea what the fuck we were going to do.” Eli leaned his back against the counter and shoved his bangs out of his face. “He gets kind of—I think he’s trying to help me, back then? Not that it makes any sense.”

  Since Silver wondered if Zeb had been doing the same thing when he got in Timo’s face, it did. But explaining that to Eli was too complicated, so Silver nodded.

  Eli sighed. “Man, can you imagine if we’d had a place like that to go to instead?”

  “A place like what?” Silver stepped around him. “Plates?”

  “Yeah. A place like Zeb said. For queer kids with no place else to go.”

  Was that what Zeb was talking about? Silver must have missed that part of the conversation.

  “Sounds like more social workers. And what if the kids’ parents try to get them back?”

  “Zeb says they have them in other cities. There must be a way. That would be tons better than the shithole where we met.”

  “I guess.” Silver thought it sounded epically delusional.

  “I take it I missed some excitement,” Gavin said from the doorway.

  “Gavin.” Eli bounced over and kissed him. “We thought you were the pizza guy.”

  “Sorry to disappoint.”

  “You? Never.”

  Gavin picked up a couple of the glasses from the counter but didn’t take them anywhere. “Where did you two meet?”

  Eli shuddered. “Homeless shelter. It was January, cold as fuck, and the place was packed. Everyone screaming, babies, winos, crazy people.”

  “Trading a blow job to fat and bald for a sweaty twenty and a hotel room looked pretty damned good after that,” Silver said.