by Todd Gregory
But he will pay for my college.
I know he wants me to be a lawyer like him.
I don’t know what I want to do.
I was going to be a priest and a teacher.
But I don’t have to decide now.
I don’t think I want to be a lawyer.
I’m lucky with Sergio and Lupe. They love me and don’t care about the gay thing. Sergio isn’t sure I’m even gay because I’m still a virgin. He thinks if I have sex with a girl I’ll change my mind. He doesn’t understand how it works, but that’s okay. I know he doesn’t mean any harm by it. He will look me in the eye when he talks to me. I think if I fall in love he will understand and nothing will change.
“You need me to fix that knock under your hood before your engine goes bad,” Sergio says with a wink at me. He works at a Buick dealership repairing cars. He knows everything you could want to know about cars. He’s always fixed our cars for us.
“You can look at it when we get to Ricky’s fraternity,” she says, stressing the word fraternity. “So fancy, going from the seminary to a fraternity.” She starts singing Ariana Grande’s “Fancy” and blowing me kisses in the rearview mirror.
“It was Uncle Rubin’s idea.”
“Too good for the dorms.” Sergio makes kissy noises at me, too, but I’m not going to let their teasing bother me today.
I’m not sure joining a fraternity is the right thing for me anyway, but I don’t want to disappoint Uncle Rubin any more than I already have. I don’t know anything about fraternities other than what I’ve seen in movies or on TV. We didn’t have Greeks at Notre Dame, but sometimes fratboys came up from other schools for football games, and they always behaved badly. I mean, sure, we had kids at Notre Dame who drank too much and had wild parties like other schools, but the stories I’d heard from other students at Notre Dame—horror stories, really, about parties at IU and Purdue, stories about drugs and drinking and girls being drugged or gotten drunk and then assaulted when they were barely conscious—those were kind of terrifying, terrifying that kids could act like animals like that.
Lust is so powerful.
And to live in one of those places?
But I didn’t have the heart to tell Uncle Rubin, after everything he’s done for me and the way I kind of just threw it all back in his face. It may not be for me, but I’ll get through it if that’s what he wants. It’s the least I can do, and it seems like it’s really important to him.
Sergio is engaged to a nice girl who works at Lupe’s salon doing hair, and they’re also getting married in the spring at St. Aloysious, our parish church. Father Antonio will marry them but he refuses to speak to me. I’ve disappointed him. I was his star student, and my leaving the church and coming out as gay has disappointed him. He’s refused me communion since I came home from Indiana, but as long as I am not acting on my feelings, I am not sinning. I will find a church in San Felice where the priest doesn’t know anything about me and will get absolution there.
My faith is still strong. I say my rosary daily and pray to Our Father every day, and I find solace in my faith. The Lord is my father, and I find solace in the Holy Mother’s love.
I close my eyes and lean my head against the window. It’s two hours or so from Los Angeles on the 1 to San Felice. I say a prayer to Mother Mary about what’s waiting there for me.
It may not be so bad.
PHIL He’s even better looking in person, which is kind of hard to believe given how fucking hot he looked in the picture Rubin showed me.
I’m lying in the hammock slung between two palm trees in the house back yard, drinking an iced mocha and pinching off the end of the joint when a car pulls into the parking lot. It’s hot, it’s always hot in San Felice in July. It’s hot as hell inside the house right now, but the air-conditioning is getting worked on so the brothers living in over the summer will stop fucking whining to me every day. Thank God.
It’s not easy being polite and concerned all the time when some dumbass like Wes Preston, who doesn’t lift a fucking finger around the house, is in your face bitching. Like I broke the a / c on purpose or something just to personally inconvenience you. But I just smile and let him know I’m getting it taken care of and just be patient a little longer.
Sorry it’s too hot in your room for you to watch porn and beat off, asshole.
I make a mental note, though. I always make a mental note.
He may not pay for it right away. But he will eventually.
I am very patient.
Hate and wait is my motto.
It’s amazing what you can get away with if you’re patient.
I’m a little surprised Big Man Rubin didn’t bring His Sainted Nephew down himself in his red Ferrari convertible. The beat-up old Buick with a cracked windshield and a big dent in the back fender says a lot about how Rubin really feels about his family, doesn’t it? How much money did he spend on sending His Sainted Nephew to Notre Dame, and he lets his niece drive a piece of shit like that Buick?
Sainted Nephew clearly is the only relative that matters.
It must be killing Rubin that he’s gay.
I make my face friendly and neutral.
I am going to be Ricky’s friend. Take him under my wing and guide him through the difficult time of changing schools and pledging a fraternity.
Beta Kappa ain’t no seminary.
I roll out of the hammock and straighten my tank top, drop my sunglasses down over my eyes, and walk out to where they are busy unloading boxes and suitcases out of the trunk of the car. The sister is pretty and has incredible nails, at least a half inch long with amazing designs on them. The brother is stocky, could stand to cut back on carbs and hit the gym, but not bad.
He’d do around two in the morning if nothing better was around.
But His Sainted Nephew is fucking gorgeous, even better up close. The hair is thick and parted in the middle in a hopelessly out-of-date style and long, almost down to the shoulders. It’s bouncy and shiny and reflects bluish-black in the sun. His shoulders are broad in his faded navy blue Notre Dame T-shirt, which fits tight across the chest. The arms are thickly muscled. His waist is almost ridiculously tiny, the legs in his shorts thick and strong and covered with black hair.
And the ass.
Oh my God, the ass.
“Hi.” I stick out my hand, hoping I don’t reek too much of pot smoke. “I’m Phil Connors, president of Beta Kappa. You must be Ricky Monterro. Your uncle said you were on your way. Welcome.”
He smiles and I catch my breath. The dimples are deep, the chin strong, the eyes light up. His teeth are perfect and pearly white.
I’m tempted to fuck him myself. But that can’t happen.
No matter how tempting it is, I have to keep my hands off him.
My hands must stay clean.
I can’t believe Brandon is being so difficult about this.
I’m doing him a favor.
Maybe if I send him a shirtless picture…
“Yes, I’m Ricky.” He shakes my hand vigorously. His hand is dry and bigger than mine and strong. “It’s nice to meet you.” He looks deep into my eyes and I almost drop to my knees right then and there.
No, I must stay strong, but I definitely need to get laid tonight.
“This is my sister Lupe and my brother Sergio,” Ricky says as Lupe shuts the trunk. She picks up a box and smiles at him.
“You going to take good care of our little brother?”
I flash the smile that opens the bank accounts of the alumni. I shake hands with Sergio and pick up a box before I say, “I’m going to do my best. Follow me.”
I’ve put Ricky in a room on the first floor on the side of the house facing the Sigma Pi parking lot rather than the backyard. Brothers are going to bitch about him being on the first floor anyway when they come back and get their room assignments in the fall, but it’s standard that summer live-ins get priority.
I can also say, “His uncle got the a / c fixed. Cough
up a check and I’ll put you on the first floor.”
His room is conveniently just down the hall from my suite. The hall is dark and smells slightly of stale beer and pot smoke. I see him make a funny face at the smell. Nothing I can do about that, so I just smile.
It’s hot as hell in the hallway and I start sweating, and I can see sweat run down the side of his face. I apologize again about the air-conditioning. I unlock the door to room 7 and stand aside. Every room comes with two single beds, two desks, two chests. The small closet is divided in half. Brothers who get their own rooms can refurnish if they prefer, and we store the furniture in the attic. The room smells a little stale and it’s warm. “Sorry again it’s so damned hot,” I say, leaning against the door frame. “They’re still working on replacing the a / c. They should be done soon and the house will cool down.”
“This is…nice,” Ricky says uncertainly.
“If you want a mini-fridge for your room, just let me know,” I say as he turns around and pulls out bedding from a box. He bends over the bed to put on the fitted sheet, and that ass…
My God, that ass.
I shake my head. “Anyway, my room is down the end of the hall—the one with president on the door. That’s the office. Just ring the bell. If you knock and I’m not in the office, I may not hear you, so always ring the bell.”
He straightens back up and smiles at me again. “I’ll do that.” He nods at me.
“If you need anything…it was nice meeting you both.”
They nod back at me and I head back to my suite, wiping sweat from my forehead.
It’s deliciously cool in the office.
He’s so nice. So sexy.
I have a full bathroom, complete with shower, in my suite, but that doesn’t mean I can’t use the communal shower on the first floor.
My God, that ass.
I can’t believe he’s Rubin’s nephew.
I can’t touch him.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t help him get a little more experienced, does it?
There are plenty of guys who’d like to get a hold of that ass.
But I have to be careful, can’t be too obvious, can’t do anything to piss off Rubin. He can’t know I’m behind it all. That would be too obvious, for one thing, and for another, it’s so much more fun to be an innocent party when Rubin goes fucking nuts about his nephew turning into the biggest sloppy ho at Beta Kappa.
Got to get him past that religious thing, though.
Stupid fucking Brandon would be perfect.
I pull out my cell phone and start to text him, but drop my phone back in my pocket.
No, I’m on my own until he decides to come back to San Felice.
I hope he’s having erectile dysfunction problems on Fire Island.
Bastard.
BRANDON I kind of like Fire Island. I can’t believe I’ve never been here before.
New Yorkers, of course, think this is hot.
They couldn’t handle San Felice in the summertime, that’s for sure.
Sure, it’s warm, but the breeze from the ocean makes a big difference. San Felice also gets a cold wind off the ocean, but it’s sure as hell not over a hundred degrees here.
Glad I came.
The house Jordy’s renting has five bedrooms and a pool, and a boardwalk down to the beach. Right now we’re the only two here—I just missed his boyfriend and some of their friends, and some more people are coming in tomorrow. But for today it’s just me and Jordy. It’s kind of nice, not having spent any time with Jordy in a while.
Jordy’s a good guy, always has been. I’ve liked him ever since he first pledged the chapter at CSU–Polk when I was there. He’s inside right now, making a pitcher of Pimm’s Cups. He’s already been here for a couple of weeks and looks great. He’s always tanned easily because he has olive skin, and the body! That body is bangin’. When I first met him when he pledged, he was kind of doughy and soft. But he hired a trainer and a nutritionist and turned himself into an underwear model. He’s not quite as ripped now as he sometimes is—he says he’s not been watching his diet as much as he should—but it’s not noticeable unless you’ve seen him before.
I wonder if he and Dante have an open relationship? Or if they’ll do three-ways now? Is Dante a top, or do they take turns? Dante’s ass—that would be a waste if he didn’t bottom. Jordy’s got a pretty hot ass, too. He’s also got a really big dick.
Jordy is one of the few guys I’ve let fuck me.
I’d let him fuck me right now.
And I’d love to get in between him and Dante one night.
That would be almost like doing porn.
He hands me a glass. “So glad you decided to come, Brandon. How long do you think you’ll stay?”
I take a sip and it’s perfect. “A week, maybe. Longer. As long as you can stand to have me here. It’s kind of nice here.”
“Glad you like it.” He smiles. He’s wearing a black bikini and sits down on the lounger on the other side of the table from me. A gull squawks and flies overhead. It’s very peaceful there. Jordy opens a cigar box and pulls out a joint and a cigarette lighter. He sparks it and takes an inhale, passes it to me. “Dante is sorry he missed you,” he says as he exhales. “He won’t be able to come back out for another couple of weeks.” His face twists.
“I’m sorry I missed him, too,” I say. Jordy always has the best pot. Then again, he can afford it. Must be nice to be sitting on a trust fund you could buy Haiti with.
But it’s not like he’s cheap or anything. Most guys with that kind of money are arrogant dicks. Jordy’s cool.
“Why are you staying out here all by yourself all summer?” I decide to address it head-on. “Is everything okay with you and Dante?” I pass the joint back to him, feeling pleasantly high already.
He laughs. “Everything’s fine. He’s supposed to be here all summer, too, but a job that should have been finished last month isn’t quite over yet.” He frowns. “This should be the last two weeks. He’s hoping to be done sooner.”
“Are you still going to Oxford this fall?”
He nods. “That’s going to be hard enough—so yeah, this is disappointing.” Jordy is wicked smart. I never really quite understood why he went to CSU–Polk instead of Harvard. He had the grades, he had the money, he had the brains. He always says he wanted to go someplace “normal,” whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean.
I think there’s more to the story than that. No one chooses Polk if they have another choice.
I only went there to get my grades up so I could get into San Felice.
“And—since I know it’s on your mind, yes, Dante and I are talking about having an open relationship.” He winks at me.
He knows me too well. It’s a good thing we don’t go to the same school anymore.
“But not until I go to England. Celibacy is too much to expect when we’re on different continents.” He hands the joint back to me. “And I’m not going to dump Dante for getting off with someone while I’m over there, you know? I love him too much for that, I’m not throwing away our relationship because he got horny. That’s crazy.”
“And vice versa, of course.” I wink at him.
“I’m not looking for anything to happen, but…” He shrugs, the veins in his shoulder muscles bulging out as he does. “I also don’t want to lose Dante if I do something stupid.”
“A hard cock has no conscience!” we say in unison, and laugh. We clink our glasses together and drink.
“Someone’s arriving tomorrow, and I want you to be on your best behavior.” Jordy gives me his stern look. “I’m deadly serious, hands off on this one.”
I wave my hand tiredly. “I’m bored with boys, Jordy. I think I’m going to swear off fucking for the rest of the summer.” I take another hit off the joint and lie back on the lounger, closing my eyes. I feel perfect, that moment when you’re high and buzzed from alcohol but not drunk or so high you can’t function. The sun on my skin, the cry of the
gulls, the waves, is all so relaxing I don’t feel like getting off the lounger ever again.
“So you say now,” Jordy says. “Wait till we go out for happy hour later. Lots of hot men on the island, my friend. But I’m glad to hear it. I don’t want you touching him or getting any ideas about him.”
“I’m not even curious,” I say, but I am intrigued now. “But I am curious why you’re so worried.”
He laughs. “His name is Dylan Parrish, and he’s transferring to San Felice this fall, as a matter of fact, and he’s a Beta Kappa from UCLA.” He explains the roundabout way he knows Dylan, but I don’t pay much attention. I love Jordy, but he always goes into too much detail when he’s explaining. It’s part of that genius thing, I think. Beta Kappas are all connected somehow—someone always knows someone who knows someone who knows someone. Dylan apparently knows Blair Blanchard, who graduated from our chapter right before I pledged and now is working on Broadway. His parents are movie stars, and Dylan’s mother apparently is an actress and was in a movie with Blair’s dad which is how somehow Jordy knows him. Blair and his partner lived across the hall in the apartment complex Jordy lived in before he moved in with Dante.
That’s the gist of what he is saying, anyway.
“I told you I am going to be celibate for the rest of the summer,” I reply when he gives me a chance to finally say something. I wave my hand without opening my eyes. “Dylan could be a Calvin Klein underwear model. Wouldn’t matter.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You’ll see.”
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” he says casually. I glance over at him. He’s refilling his glass with ice from the cooler and more Pimm’s Cup. “You wouldn’t get anywhere with him even if you weren’t celibate, Brother Brandon.”
“So it’s a moot point.” Of course now he has me interested, damn him. I wasn’t interested—stupid Jaden is still texting me, and so is his stupid girlfriend, wanting to know why he broke up with her, and I’ve already decided the next time she does I’m texting back because he likes to suck cock you stupid bitch because I don’t owe him anything, so why shouldn’t I blow off his closet door? And so I’m not really up for anything besides some no-strings fun, and that certainly doesn’t include fucking some kid who’s going to be living in the same house as me when school starts again, but why is Jordy so sure I wouldn’t have a chance with this guy?
