Paint It Black

by Amy Lane

  “I hate you,” Blake said.

  “It’s no darker than ours.” Shelia looked down at her brightly painted red toenails and then grinned at Blake. “I mean, I’m practicing poly… poly…. Goddammit, what’s that word again, Briony?”

  “Polyandry,” Briony said, grinning.

  “It’s a fancy word for slut,” Shelia said winsomely, peeping to see if Blake would take the bait. He’d learned not to even question the three of them about their ambiguous and strangely perfect relationship because they were all so good about yanking the family’s chain when questioned. When he merely rolled his eyes, she continued, “The only one here who wasn’t doing all the drugs and all the sex was Briony. Well, and Trav.”

  “I was six months pregnant at my own wedding.” It was as though Briony was clinging to that to make her a “bad girl.”

  “La-de-fuckin’-da,” Shelia teased. “Alert the news—Pollyanna here had a baby bump.”

  “Well, polyandry here has another one,” Briony snapped back, and Shelia laughed.

  “Hush! The boys don’t know yet. They just think the titty fairy showed up for shits and giggles. Blake, eat. I’ll go get your burger.” She wandered back outside, taking some of the sunshine with her, leaving Blake with his mouth open.

  “What?” Briony asked, bailing a batch of chips out of the grease.

  “Is she really pregnant again?”

  “Yup. I’m pretty sure it happened that first week after Mackey got hurt. The twins got clingy then, and there wasn’t a lot else to do except worry.”

  Blake sighed. “I hate to ask, but does she ever have any idea which—”

  “No.” Briony shrugged. “She told me once that their come even tastes the same.”

  Blake started to choke, and Briony poured him a glass of milk. “Speaking of which, when are you and Cheever getting to it?”

  “Oh dear God!”

  “You can’t just keep saying that, Blake. I’m not sure if you noticed here, but this family isn’t so good on the boundary thing. Here, have some chips. They’re really good with french onion dip. Just saying.”

  Blake took a chip because he was helpless and stupid against her. “Mm….” Oh yes. So much better warm.

  “Good. Finish that stack there. Let me fix your burger and then we’ll talk.”

  By the time she was back with his burger, he was actually hungry. He ate one of the pieces she’d cut up and sighed.

  “So….” She cocked an eyebrow.

  “I’m too old and I have a tragic past.” Well, Shelia had put it out there.

  “So does he. So does Mackey, and Kell, and the twins, and everybody but Trav and me, mostly.”

  “What if it doesn’t work?”

  “What if Kell walks into the bedroom tonight and decides he wants a twenty-two-year-old virgin instead?”

  Blake raised his eyebrows and played the no-boundary game. “It’s my understanding he already had him one of those, darlin’. After you knock one up, you don’t get a do-over.”

  “Ooh, that was impressive. What’s the problem really?”

  He will eventually see the real me. I like the way he’s looking at me now.

  “I’m—”

  A crash and a squeal came from the living room.

  “Never mind. Whatever you tell me right now in the kitchen, with the kids raising holy hell in the other room, is a total and complete lie. Does he make you happy?”

  He swallowed and went to push his plate away.

  “Don’t you dare. Of course he makes you happy. You wouldn’t be so freaked out about losing him if he didn’t make you happy. Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Blake. You have done your goddamned time. You think I haven’t heard the ‘Oh my God, you’re so young and innocent!’ speech before? It was sweet when Kell gave it, but really unnecessary. It’s even more unnecessary now.”

  “Why, because Cheever’s a boy?”

  “No, because he knows what he’s doing! He’s an adult!”

  “Yeah, but he’s already had one scumbag ruin his life. Does he really need another?”

  She smacked him on the top of the head, hard enough to bring tears to his eyes.

  “Jesus, Briony—”

  “Shut up,” she said thickly. “You’ll just make me stabby. Eat your fuckin’ burger. And for sweet fuck’s sake, remember this whole family is up in your business, making you eat, jumping past your fucking boundaries because we fucking love you. I mean, I sort of hate you right now, but I love you. Now fucking eat and don’t say another fucking word until you’re done.”

  Blake finished his dinner in silence, and was just cleaning off the plate in the sink while Briony consolidated leftovers when Cheever came in.

  “You eat two dinners?” he asked Blake, laughing.

  Briony growled and shook her head. “All men suck.” And with that, she flounced out.

  Cheever watched her go, frowning, and then moved up behind Blake and leaned over his shoulder. “What was that about?”

  It wasn’t his fault Blake was having a quiet crisis, right? Blake kissed him on the cheek and went back to the dishes. “I was just unsettled. I’m telling you, Cheever, if you move in, there will be people so in your face about being happy, you won’t even have a chance to second-guess yourself.”

  “What’s got you going?”

  “Your brother. He’s not doing good. Actually—” Oh hey! Blake had almost forgotten he had a job to do. “Actually, we could use your help. We’re having a band meeting at eleven, after we go running. I think your mama is going to be keeping him company in the morning, but could you go keep him company during the meeting? Odds are good he’ll call in, which is fine, but, you know. It would be nice for him to have some company.”

  “I’ll bring my sketch book,” Cheever said, hesitant and proud. “I… I don’t remember the last time he saw what I could do.”

  “I think he’d like that. He has some plans—wants to give you some work this summer, I think—”

  “Doing what?”

  “Well, you know. We got a project coming up. He wants you to do the cover art. It’s no big deal. You can say no—”

  “Are you kidding? He wants me to help?”

  Oh God. There was so much excitement and validation in one little request. “It’s what he said.”

  “But… he doesn’t even know if I’m any good!”

  “Your mom’s been showing us your art since you were in grade school. We know you can make it pretty. Just….” Blake grimaced. “It’s gonna be the guys as backup, so, you know, not too much of me, okay?”

  “It’s your next solo album.” Cheever’s voice had that same note in it that Briony’s did.

  “Yeah, whatever. Mackey’s gonna produce the sound—whatever he okays, how’s that?”

  “I get to work on a project. With my brother.”

  “Yeah.” Blake smiled, liking the way Cheever’s whole face lit up. Then Cheever took Blake’s chin and pulled him to face him, kissing him hard and deep. That tight band in Blake’s chest, the one that cut off his hope and made him think every time he and Cheever touched, they were going faster into a brick wall, loosened up.

  Blake closed his eyes and fell into the kiss, only pulling back when he heard a clatter of steps near the kitchen door.

  “Cheever! Cheever! Marcia said we can watch a movie! She’s gonna tell us how they do some of the stuff. Wanna watch with us?”

  “Yeah,” Cheever said, turning to look at Kyla and Kansas. The younger kids in the family were both chubby and looked surprisingly alike, with brown hair and hazel eyes. Like Stevie and Jefferson, they tended to travel together and were spooky about reading each other’s minds. “Yeah, guys. You go pick the movie with Marcia. I’ll be in there in a sec.”

  They ran off, and Cheever kissed him again. Blake’s worries about being too old, too damaged, second best, deserted him as Cheever’s taste filled him and Cheever’s touch overwhelmed him, leaving him stupid and cow-eyed and not worried at all. “I like t
hat look,” Cheever teased, pulling away.

  “Good. You sort of give it to me a lot.” Blake pecked him on the lips. “I like that you’re making an effort with the kids. You and Marcia made them really happy tonight.”

  Cheever looked behind him. “Are they always this easy?”

  “Oh God, no. This is ‘we have company’ manners, right after the tour. They’re still fighting exhaustion. Give them a week when they’re bored and restless and still tired, and tired of being tired. The whole family snarls at each other like bears. It’s great.”

  Cheever chuckled. “See, that’s what I remember about kids. I’ll be much more comfortable when they start doing that shit.”

  God, he was so young and so excited. “Go watch your movie,” he said. “I’ve got to talk to your brothers, then I’m walking home.”

  “Can’t I walk you—”

  Blake rubbed his thumb over Cheever’s lower lip, full and swollen from their earlier kiss. “Get to know your family. We go running in the morning at around eight. Everybody meets here in the kitchen. One person stays behind to get the kids cereal, and we usually take turns.”

  “I don’t have running clothes,” Cheever said regretfully. “I mean, I’ve got clothes I can run in, but no good shoes.”

  “We can shop for them tomorrow, maybe, before the movie?”

  “Excellent. I’ll be up to watch the kids. I’m helping!”

  Blake chuckled. “We’ll use and abuse you until you run screaming,” he said. “Marcia too.” He sobered. “But be honest if it gets overwhelming. Shelia and Briony have been talking about getting an actual nanny—or two—for the last two years. You’re not free labor. We all know it. It’s just, you know, easy to take advantage of family.”

  “Like you, keeping my mom calm and moving all of Mackey’s stuff into the house and being there for me every night?” Cheever asked archly.

  “That was a special circumstance,” Blake said, shifting from foot to foot. “Nobody knew you and me were so… time intensive.”

  “Mmm….” Cheever rubbed Blake’s cheekbone with a rough thumb. “Why didn’t you tell people? Like you said, make boundaries.”

  Oh damn. Cheever was so pretty. And the look he was giving Blake wasn’t childish at all. “I was so afraid you’d be out of bounds,” he admitted breathily.

  “I’m not,” Cheever said. “I’m right here.”

  Blake kissed him again, ever mindful of the clatter outside the kitchen, and this time, when Cheever’s hands slid down under the waistband of his jeans, he let himself arch against Cheever’s hip. Hard. His cock was hard, and his hands shook as he cupped Cheever’s neck. Pulling away this time was insanely difficult, and not grabbing Cheever by the hair and hauling him to his room to keep that kiss going was one of the hardest things he’d ever done.

  “We gotta—” He broke off, panting, hating himself for needing so much, hating Cheever a little for making him need.

  “Here’s an idea,” Cheever whispered. “My brother’s out there with his kids, who love me. How about we tell him now, and then we can go have private grown-up time!”

  Blake chuckled weakly and disengaged. “How about you go be with your family,” he rasped. “But first, I’m going to… shit, finish the dishes, then go talk to the guys.”

  Cheever wrapped his hand around Blake’s bicep, and Blake shuddered. For the first time, he wondered who would be the aggressor in bed. Yeah, Cheever might need to be taught a few things, but Blake had the feeling he’d be a very assertive lover.

  The thought made his stomach clench.

  A lover who would take care of him. It hadn’t happened since Cindy.

  “I’ll finish the dishes,” Cheever said in his ear. “You go do what you need to. But Blake, remember I’m the spoiled youngest son. I don’t wait too long, and I don’t wait patiently. You’re the guy who helped take my heart out of the jar, and now my heart knows what it wants.”

  “You weren’t spoiled,” Blake said bitterly. “And maybe the guy who takes your heart out of the jar shouldn’t be the one who gets to hold it.”

  “Maybe he’s exactly the guy,” Cheever snapped. “Go.” He reached behind Blake and caressed his backside, setting up another howl of want thrumming through Blake’s body. “Now go—go think about you and me, naked. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  One more kiss, brutal, taking Blake’s mouth hard and without compromise, and Blake was turned loose. The set of Cheever’s shoulders told Blake he wasn’t talking anymore, and it was time for Blake to leave the room.

  THE NEXT day felt so normal, except for getting up and checking on the fish. Blake hadn’t had time to set the tank up again, so he’d left it in Marcia’s room, with her permission. The thing was, Blake wasn’t really certain those fish were his.

  One of the things he and Mackey had picked up in rehab was the idea of caring for something other than yourself. Mackey had tried plants. Blake had gone with fish.

  But they’d both had pretty busy lives at the beginning, and Mackey confided in him once that the only reason the ficuses survived was that Astrid, their housekeeper, kept moving them to the sunshine whenever Mackey got too busy.

  At first, Blake had worried. He’d thought, “Hey, Mackey’s cheating at this one thing, so he might not make it!” Turned out, Mackey’s one thing to keep alive was the band itself, and it probably wouldn’t have worked with anyone else on the planet. But then, Mackey was special.

  Blake had known he was not.

  He had to keep those fuckin’ fish alive.

  He’d worked on it. He’d read books, watched videos, and thought, “Hey! It’s working! They seem to be getting bigger… but don’t they keep changing number?”

  It wasn’t until he got back from their first tour that he realized his tank had gotten bigger and all the fish had changed except for this one big scumsucker on the bottom that nobody paid any attention to until he just lunged out of the fuckin’ castle for shits and giggles. Funny, he’d been worried about Mackey not being able to keep a ficus alive, and apparently Astrid had been the one keeping the fish and not Blake.

  Except when Blake told Kell about it—feeling damned sad, because, hey, he couldn’t even keep fuckin’ fish alive—Kell sheepishly admitted that he’d been the one replacing the fish. So Blake had figured that if nothing else, he could keep his friendship with Kell alive, even after Kell and Briony had hooked up and their relationship should have all but disappeared.

  That made having the fish, even if they were Astrid’s fish and Kell’s fish, sort of a badge of honor. Hey! Blake had symbolic fish for real relationships! He’d won at rehab—at least in the fish department.

  And for the last few years, he felt like he’d been taking care of his actual fish himself. He knew that when he was not on tour, he lost a few every year, and he was the one who replaced them before Astrid or Kell ever got the chance.

  So leaving the fish back at the main house felt odd, but meeting up with the guys in the morning felt perfectly normal.

  “Me and the twins’ll move your tank into your house tomorrow morning,” Kell said, panting. They lived in a giant gated community, with paths that wound between houses and along canyons. On the one hand, they felt like they were running through a park, but they were all very aware of the walls and the security that kept out paparazzi. If it hadn’t been for the walls, Kell might have stopped his running regime years ago out of embarrassment. He had a naturally thick body. Even though they tried to stay fit on the tour, he was the first one to put on weight and had to work the hardest to lose it. “Think the meeting itself’ll take long? You got homework for us to do?”

  Blake did indeed. Walking away from Cheever had left him feeling achy and restless, and—God help him—horny, so after talking to the guys he’d spent the rest of the night pulling out the songs he’d worked on in the two years since his solo album had been released. He even had three or so about Cheever, although he’d kept them gender neutral because that was the ba
nd’s policy. Weaving the illusion of stars in the music web was all about letting the crowd think the stars were their personal stars. It was easier to do when they didn’t have to fix the words.

  “I got some shit for you guys to practice a little and play. I figure we take two days, everybody decides which ones we like best, then put a spin on them, and we go to the studio and see what shakes out.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Well, it was for Outbreak Monkey, anyway, and it had been how Blake had run his ship last time out. Back then, he’d thought that just once, he’d like his own voice to be heard. Now, he would just as soon his brothers drowned him out.

  “I’ll try not to work you too hard,” Blake told him. Mackey was the slave driver, but then, that’s probably why Outbreak Monkey would always be the bigger band.

  “Good,” Kell agreed. “But how long tonight? Briony wants to enroll the kids in actual school this year, which’ll sort of suck because they won’t be able to tour with us. But she figures we should give them at least until Christmas to see if they hate it, and if they do, then we’ll use the homeschool curriculum. Anyway, there’s paperwork and shit, and we gotta hassle that out tonight.”

  Blake looked up to see how far behind the rest of the guys they were, and realized that Trav, Jefferson, and Stevie were only a few feet ahead. So much for a quiet moment alone.

  “Early,” Blake said. “Got plans.”

  “Yeah? Doin’ what?”

  Well, honesty. With spin. “Taking Cheever shopping for shoes so he can come running with us.”

  “D’oh! Damn, Blake. It’s a good thing he’s got you for a brother. I just fell down on the job.”

  Blake nodded, and ahead of them, Trav kicked it into gear for their last two miles, as usual, so Blake didn’t have any breath to tell his best friend that the things he and Cheever had in mind for each other weren’t brotherly in the least.

  Let’s Spend the Night Together

  CHEEVER’S MORNING with his brother was a revelation.

  “Oh my God! You ain’t played Fortnite before?” Mackey asked, almost at the beginning. “Because me and the guys saved it for after tour. They broke it out when I was in the hospital, and oh my God, we need to fuckin’ beat them. If I have to hear Kell brag about it one more time, I’m gonna beat him to death with a controller.”