Bad Influence

by K.A. Mitchell

  “A Scylla or Charybdis decision.” Gavin nodded. Then saved Silver from asking if those were STDs by explaining, “Mythological monsters. There should be some other option.”

  “Tell me about it.” Silver carried the plates and napkins out to the big table.

  “I got an old air mattress. I’ll bring it over for you,” Jamie was saying to Quinn as they came in.

  Zeb still hadn’t claimed a seat, so Silver joined him in leaning near the kitchen door. “Great. Drive safe.” Eli thunked the pitcher of iced tea on the table. “We’ll save you some pizza.”

  “I meant—” Jamie slung an arm around the back of his chair and looked up. Whatever he saw on Eli’s face had him sputtering. “C’mon, kid—Eli. Are you serious?” Jamie glanced around like someone was going to bail him out. “All the way to Dundalk and back?”

  “Use your lights,” Eli suggested.

  Jamie stood and kicked his chair back, scrubbing a hand across his face. “Look, what I said about staying closeted—”

  “It’s fine.” Eli smiled, but it was mostly teeth. “Or it will be when you get back here with that air mattress.”

  Jamie growled deep in his chest but started for the door.

  Gavin raised a hand in goodbye.

  Jamie turned back, grabbed Gavin, and kissed him hard and long. “Wish you’d been here earlier.”

  “I doubt my influence extends to keeping your foot out of your mouth.” Gavin put a hand on Jamie’s face.

  “Maybe not, but you give me something else to do with my mouth.” Jamie winked, and they were kissing again.

  Zeb’s hand landed on the small of Silver’s back, fingers wide, palm a warm, solid weight. He wondered if Zeb had spent time around other couples. It had been something Silver had seen in the bars, but it had taken some getting used to around Eli and Quinn, the way they kissed and touched, not just before fucking but all the time, in front of other people, comfort and connection in every brush of fingers or lips.

  “Maybe there won’t be any pizza left,” Eli said loudly.

  “I’m going, princess.” Jamie saluted and left, the door closing with a muted thud, then popping back open.

  “Pizza guy’s here,” Jamie called, then shut the door again.

  “You guys gonna sit or stand around all night?” Eli said as Quinn went to the door. Silver thought about stealing Jamie’s chair but shifted down so he and Zeb faced Gavin.

  Eli plunked himself at the opposite end from Quinn, who came back and slid the pizza to the middle, like it was some kind of choreographed dance.

  Silver didn’t know why that irritated him tonight. “For someone as heterophobic as you, you do a great imitation of Mr. and Mrs. Suburbia.”

  “Which might bother me except for where I have a dick and Quinn likes to suck it while also having a dick of his own.” Eli flipped open the lid and scooped out a piece from the sixteen-cut. “And it feels pretty damned queer with his dick up my ass.”

  Quinn shook his head and then gave Eli a crooked smile. Eli toasted him with his pizza.

  “What is the stick up yours?” Eli said to Silver. “Or is it that there isn’t anything up yours with your date being screwed up?”

  “Shit, Eli.” Silver couldn’t believe how hot his cheeks got. He dropped the slice he’d just grabbed. Talking about it with Zeb sitting right there was a whole lot more personal than anything he’d done on camera for who knows how many guys to jerk off to.

  “What?” Eli licked cheese and sauce off his chin. “Since when do you get embarrassed about sex?” He glanced over at Zeb. “Oops. Is it a religious thing? No offense.”

  “None taken.” Zeb pulled a piece of pizza from the box.

  Without giving Zeb a chance to answer, Eli said, “Or… oh. You’re not doing it. Sorry.” He looked like he meant it. Then he said, “Well, when Jamie gets back with the air mattress—”

  “For fuck’s sake, Eli.” Silver was so very sorry he’d brought it up.

  Eli grinned. “I thought you were feeling stifled by the imitation heterosexuality. I mean, I wouldn’t want Marco to have bad role models.”

  “I doubt he could have better,” Zeb said.

  Surprised in the act of stuffing his face, Eli had to swallow before he answered. “Are you blowing smoke up my ass?”

  Zeb seemed to consider it. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Eli laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far. It’d still be better if there was a place like you said they have in other cities.”

  “What’s that?” Gavin leaned forward.

  Eli had taken a break to eat again, so Silver got a chance to answer. “Zeb was talking about how there’s no place in Baltimore for gay kids who get tossed out. But other places have them.”

  “I looked up New York and Los Angeles,” Zeb explained. “They offer meals, emergency beds, and other kinds of housing along with medical care and case management.”

  Social workers. Always a catch. But Silver thought of that kid, Eddie, ready to knife someone over the possibility of a trick. After swallowing a mouthful of pizza, he asked, “How old?”

  Zeb pulled out his little notebook. “Ages twelve to twenty-four in LA, sixteen to twenty-four in New York.”

  “Probably has to do with state agencies like Child Protective Services, what they’re willing to sign off on. They’d want to keep their piece of the pie.” For a guy who never had to worry about a meal or a bed, Gavin seemed to know a lot about it. “But there are always workarounds in Baltimore. Once the immediate need and solution is identified, there are ways to get things done.”

  Eli reached for another slice. “Immediate need is sleeping upstairs. I’m open to solutions.”

  “What would have been the most immediate need to you back then?”

  “Shower and a bed,” Silver said right as Eli said, “A bed and clean clothes.”

  “Meals?” Gavin asked.

  “Yeah, but those were a lot easier to come by than a bed.”

  Silver thought of the clinic. He’d gotten his test because a guy he’d seen a bunch of times out in front of it offered him ten bucks if he took it and came back for the results and one counseling session.

  “Still might not get people to come in, though. I left the one shelter because I figured they’d track down my parents.”

  “So an element of trust is required. Spreading the word that it’s a safe haven.” Gavin nodded.

  “And medical care. I’m not saying give the kids an HIV test when they come in, because they won’t stay, but yeah. Eventually you’d need that.” Silver thought of Eddie again, the scar on Tanner’s face. “Some might come in fucked-up, beaten, or cut.”

  Eli was leaning forward in excitement, as if someone had really put him in charge of this made-up shelter. “Fed, healthy, and off the streets. Then what?”

  “If they’re as young as twelve, there’s still a lot of school left,” Zeb pointed out.

  “And if not, a GED,” Quinn added.

  Silver managed to keep from rolling his eyes as he gnawed on his crust.

  Zeb must have seen the aborted frustration because he put a hand on Silver’s thigh. “Job or higher education, with transitional housing.”

  “What the fuck is transitional housing?” Eli said.

  “It’s partially supervised and subsidized, where someone comes to check to see if you need help,” Zeb said. The guy had really done his research.

  “And makes sure you’re following all their rules,” Silver added.

  It had started off interesting, but now the whole thing was making him a little crazy. It might be fun for the rest of them to get riled up about some wild idea, but not Silver. It cut far too close to where Silver kept his wishes and what-ifs. Life was a lot easier when he didn’t get his hopes up.

  “Couple blocks from the bars? What do you think, Silver?” Eli’s question dragged Silver back to their fantasyland.

  “Huh?”

  Zeb rubbed Silver’s thigh. Not in a wish-we-we
re-alone way. More like he was trying to calm Silver.

  “Where would be a good place for the shelter? Where would it get more drop-ins?” Eli said.

  “Between the bars and the Greyhound bus stop. Or near a metro line.” Silver squeezed Zeb’s hand, then got up, grabbing the pizza box. “You guys done? I’ll wrap the rest of this up for Marco and Jamie.”

  After a round of nods, Silver carried it into the kitchen, hearing Zeb say, “A wardrobe or something where kids could get fresh clothes or find stuff to wear on job interviews would be good too.”

  Maybe Zeb hadn’t picked up on Silver’s mood after all. Wishful thinking. It was fucked.

  “I’d be great at that,” Eli said.

  “They might not all have your flair.” Quinn’s voice was amused.

  Silver went back and forth clearing the table while the rest of them made lists of what the shelter should have first. Good thing Marco was upstairs sleeping instead of sitting around the table getting his head gassed up on dreams.

  The counters were wiped, the dishwasher loaded, and still they yammered on. Silver banged out through the back door.

  It smelled like thunder outside, but there wasn’t much of a breeze. The clouds made it look closer to dark than it was. Silver swatted a mosquito as he sat in one of Eli’s swivel chairs and twisted back and forth.

  The anger burning Silver’s throat was familiar, but the target wasn’t. Not his useless parents, not Zeb for turning away. More at himself. He’d had more choices than he knew, but he hadn’t wanted to look. Maybe not something as perfect as the dream house they were busy building on Eli’s phone and in Zeb’s tiny notebook. But he’d been so angry, he hadn’t wanted any help. Maybe those assholes at Path to Glory had brainwashed him into believing he deserved to suffer. Or maybe he’d just been pathetic enough to punish himself for them.

  He heard the kitchen door but kept swiveling back and forth, staring at the tops of his Chucks. It didn’t matter who he hoped it would be. It would be whoever it was.

  “We’re missing your valuable input.” Gavin settled himself in another chair.

  Silver only heard the action, engrossed in observing the marks on the rubber-covered toes. How had they lasted this long? He’d whined about the right brand back when his mom had bought them almost four years ago. He’d had no idea what they’d see him through. Guess they were pretty good kicks. They were fraying here and there, and his toes left bumps in the rubber, but they still worked.

  “I’m doing this, Silver. I can make it happen.”

  Silver snapped his head up to look at Gavin. There could only be one thing he was talking about.

  Gavin nodded. “I’ve worked enough charity boards for museums and nature conservancies.” His tight-lipped smile offered an apology. “I know how to get funding, what arms to twist, and who to flatter for permits.” He stopped and looked directly into Silver’s eyes. “This is something I believe in. I’m good at what I do. But you know what the needs really are. I hope I can rely on you for that input.”

  Silver managed to swallow the confusing mess of shame and pride and nod back.

  “I regret it won’t be fast enough to help Marco, and I’m sorry it wasn’t in place to help you.”

  Silver finally had enough control of his voice. “Why?”

  “Not only do I think you’d be of incalculable value to the project, but if you’ll forgive me being mawkish, you are its inspiration.”

  Silver shook his head. He was very definitely not an inspiration.

  “I recognized something of myself in you when I met you. With a less fortunate birth, I might have found myself in similar circumstance.”

  “I doubt it,” Silver said.

  “A good thing too. As I’ve come to know you better, I realize you have an inner strength I could only hope to emulate in your situation.”

  Silver remembered Zeb saying I’ve always seen something amazing in you, Silver, like a light to draw me in.

  “Can I count on you to make sure this is done right?” Gavin lowered his gaze.

  “Yeah.” Silver snorted a laugh. “I can see why you’re good at the arm-twisting and flattery. How much of that was bullshit?”

  Gavin’s eyes held an answering laugh. “Less than ten percent, I assure you.”

  “Isn’t your boyfriend going to have something to say about it?”

  “I’m sure he’ll have a lot to say on the subject. But I think he will find himself backing the plan with his usual intensity.”

  Silver recognized Zeb’s silhouette the instant it appeared in the kitchen door. He came down the steps. “I thought you had gone up to check on Marco until he came down.”

  “How is he?” Gavin asked.

  “Hungry enough to finish off the pizza.” Zeb stood behind Silver’s chair.

  Silver had no trouble recognizing the next silhouette either. Jamie banged through the door and out into the twilight.

  He folded his arms on the back of Gavin’s chair. “So. I hear you’ve found a new cause.”

  Gavin tipped his head back. “I have.”

  “Won’t the dwarf wedge mussel people miss you?” Jamie stared down. The two of them might as well have been alone for all the attention Jamie spared for anyone not named Gavin.

  “I spare no appreciation for such a noble crustacean, but I’d like to do something with personal meaning.”

  “Thought you were.”

  Gavin frowned.

  “The hospice,” Jamie explained.

  “I’ll still be doing that.”

  “Not surprised.” Jamie leaned down to kiss him, Spider-Man style. “Come on. That kid ate all the rest of the pizza. You fill me in while I fill up at a drive-thru.” He pulled Gavin up out of the chair and started for the driveway before turning back with a typical Jamie exit line. “Enjoy the air mattress. It’s a single.”

  Zeb wasn’t touching Silver, but he felt Zeb everywhere. The grip of his fingers over the back of the chair, the sound of his breath over the cricket chirps, and most of all the solid warmth of him, welcome even in the sticky air. A blend of steady reassurance and tingling awareness. It was something he’d like the chance to get used to.

  “Sorry we didn’t make the movie.” Zeb’s words felt weighted like the air.

  Silver was too. And then he was surprised at how sharp the regret was. A longing that hollowed his gut and was about so much more than a lame movie. Straight people could take dating for granted. No wonder queers either fucked and moved on or moved in. When were they supposed to learn how to date when being out together in the wrong place at the wrong time could get them beaten up? Eli’s heterophobia made a lot of sense.

  “Yeah. Maybe I’m not cut out for dating.” Or moving in, according to Quinn. Not that Zeb had asked.

  Was sneaking around—more than only the lie about his age—what had made it so easy for it to fall apart? Even Marco now had a chance to fall in love the first time in the open, with people who would understand.

  Silver stretched his legs out. “Thanks for helping out with Marco. Getting in his brother’s face like that.” He paused, staring at a spider scuttling along the table edge. “I know you did it for me.” What the hell. Might as well put the whole thing out there. It didn’t look like they were going to be having sex anytime soon. “And I know it’s because you’re still riding the guilt train.” It was the truth. He wanted to know if Zeb knew it too.

  Zeb stepped around the chair and stood between Silver’s legs before leaning back against the table. The spider made it by an inch.

  A boat-shoe-covered toe nudged at Silver’s ankle until he looked up to Zeb’s face. “I did do it for you. For a second I was ready to throw a punch at him for shoving you. And yes, I’m always going to wish I could go back and fix that night, but that isn’t why I wanted to protect Marco. I wanted to show you that I’ve changed.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I had a lot of shame back then. About being gay.”

  “And that
wasn’t shame when you let my parents call you a pedophile?” The first rumble of thunder was only a vibration down in the bones of Silver’s ears, a low, deep warning. He expected Zeb to look away, but he didn’t.

  “Even then. I thought letting them confront me was something I owed them. It was a mistake. But I’m changing. I’m learning from men like Eli and Jamie and Quinn and Gavin. And you.”

  Silver slumped back in his chair. The sky had gone deep twilight with clouds. “Yeah, well, stick to Gavin as a role model.”

  “He seems to think just as highly of you.”

  “Jealous again?”

  “No. It would be impossible not to like him.”

  If Silver didn’t know how dark and deep Gavin’s cynicism ran, the guy would be perfect for Zeb. Polished. Smart. Undamaged.

  “You should be with someone like him. A nice guy.”

  “I want to be.”

  Zeb’s easy agreement slammed into Silver’s chest, knocking the wind out of him.

  Good thing he was already sitting down.

  Zeb leaned forward, his hands bracketing Silver’s neck where it rested against the chair. “You are a nice guy.”

  Silver wanted to brush the praise away, force the reality that nice guys in Zeb’s world didn’t do bareback porn just to stay off the street.

  Zeb loomed closer, hands on Silver’s shoulders. “No, screw that. I’ve had nice guys. I’ve dated and taken my time before ending up in bed with them.” Silver’s skin prickled with gooseflesh.

  Zeb’s hands moved onto Silver’s shoulders, intensifying the charge racing through his body. “None of them made me crazy. None of them made me feel like I couldn’t breathe right until we kissed. None of them made my whole body hum with the need to touch. You do.” Zeb’s grip shifted to Silver’s forearms and pulled him to his feet. “You turned my life upside down, and I couldn’t put it back together in any way that made sense without you.”

  Silver wanted to believe him, believe in what kept driving them together, that this halo of electricity around them could somehow make everything all right again. But in the meantime…. He swallowed back the spark of tears in his throat. In the meantime, they were kissing.