by J P Barnaby
“Oh, ew,” Sean said. “I just use a water bottle, like a Dasani bottle.”
“A water bottle?”
“A water bottle. Get in the shower, turn on the warm water, fill up the bottle, and shoot it a few times. When the water’s clean, it’s ready for peen.”
“Wow.”
“Really?”
“Okay, I think that calls for another beer.” Anthony stood up and walked over to the cooler, his mind reeling. He grabbed four bottles and distributed them even though his still sat half-full in the sand. The break helped him to process things, and he sat back on the log.
“So, how do you know who is going to, well…?” Anthony swallowed and pulled on his big-boy pants. “Who is going to fuck and who gets fucked?”
“That’s all what you like, usually. See, Jeff here is a big ol’ bottom. He’d rather get fucked than fuck. I’m a top. I’d rather do the fucking. Chris is pretty versatile. He doesn’t care as long as he’s getting some. You don’t really know until you try it.”
“Wanna try it?” Chris asked with a wink.
“Out here in the sand? No thanks,” Anthony said as his dick hardened against his jeans. He didn’t want to admit it, but the refusal had more to do with fear than sand. He didn’t know Chris, really, not beyond their superficial conversations. For letting someone into his body, he wanted a little more trust than small talk.
“Well, if you’re interested, you have my number.”
“I’m interested,” Jeff piped up.
“Yeah?” Chris stood up and held a hand out to Jeff. Anthony watched in disbelief as they headed back toward the woods in the direction they’d come.
“Got a water bottle?” Sean called after them, and Anthony put his head in his hands.
“They’re really going to go out there and fuck?”
“Yeah, it happens.”
The two of them stayed quiet for a long while, watching the waves or the dancing flames. Every once in a while, Anthony thought he heard the sound of slapping skin, but it could have been the waves. Once or twice he heard a moan that he wrote off as the wind. He’d nearly decided to walk back to the liquor store, when something occurred to him.
“Hey, you’ve known Bren and Patrick for a while, right?” he asked, turning on the log to face Sean.
“Yeah, I worked there for about three years, why?”
“What was Bren like before?”
“Before the shooting, you mean?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know. He was the all-around jock. He played football. He liked cars. He was a couple years ahead of me in school, and I remember him being popular but kind. Bren wasn’t the kind of guy to let his football buddies fuck with someone. He’d just push them and tell them to move along. I always liked that about him, being the quiet gay kid.”
“Was he out?”
“I didn’t know he was gay until you said you’d fucked around with him.”
“Did he have girlfriends?” Anthony watched the water, wanting to know, but not wanting to know about Bren’s teenaged love life.
“I don’t know. I was a freshman and he was a senior. It seemed like he did, but then all the guys on the team did. He was outgoing, always making jokes. Everyone liked him. Then after, when he came home from the hospital, no one knew what to say or how to help him. He was angry all the time and wouldn’t come out of the house. After a while, people just stopped trying.”
“Yeah, my brother was the same way. I remember his friends at the house all the time before, and then after, they just stopped coming because he wouldn’t see them.”
“I’d have to guess it’s hard to adjust when your life changes like that. I’m lucky, I’ve never had something horrible happen.”
“I’ve never had it happen to me, but what happened to my brother was like an eclipse over our family.”
“It must suck to never see the sun,” Sean said.
“I see it now.”
Sixteen
“DUDE, HE’S going to be here soon. Are you fucking ready yet?” Bren asked for the third time as Patrick pulled another container of wings out of the bag. He set them on the counter with a pan of baked macaroni and cheese Butch had made for the occasion. Sandy had added a couple of two liters of soda.
“Yes, Jesus, calm down. It’s not a wedding, man,” Patrick tossed over his shoulder as he arranged the wings in the warming tin and moved it to the end of the counter to start the buffet line. Bren dropped paper plates, napkins, and plastic forks that the three amigos had brought. He hated that little fuck Sean, and Anthony had ignored him when he asked for help. Wasn’t that what he was he supposed to do, ask for help? What was the point if no one answered?
“What about the cake?”
“I put it in the refrigerator when I got here.” Patrick surveyed the counter. “Which was an impressive feat given the amount of beer in there.”
“The fact that it’s still in there should make you happy.”
“It does.” Patrick turned toward his brother. He didn’t hug Bren, which was fine, but he had that sappy “I’m so glad you’re my brother” look. Bren rolled his eyes and went into the living room.
“Maybe the bus is—”
“He’s coming up the street,” Bren said. Sandy and Butch grabbed Sean, and they all went into the kitchen to hide. Surprises weren’t a bright spot in Bren’s day, but something in his soul wanted to make it special for Anthony. Fucking Sean. Bren wanted so much more than just one special moment.
Thirty seconds… a minute… ninety seconds… and a knock at the door. He turned to make sure Anthony wouldn’t be able to see anyone from the door and then turned the handle.
“Hey,” he said, stepping back to let Anthony inside.
“It’s a bitch of a day out there. I think I just sweated my balls off,” Anthony commented as he stepped inside. “Thank God that guy fixed the air. Though his timing couldn’t have been—”
“Hey, I got wings instead of pizza. Are you hungry?” Bren asked, effectively cutting off whatever Anthony would add to the end of that sentence. He didn’t need their sexual escapades announced to the whole fucking world.
“Yeah, I love wings.”
“Cool, go ahead into the kitchen and make a plate. I’ll throw the movie in. I picked up Fantastic Four. It should be fine. No gun violence, just guys beating the crap out of each other.” Bren waited until Anthony started for the kitchen and then followed as quietly as he could.
“That’s cool, I’d been wanting to see—”
“Surprise!”
The kitchen exploded with laughter and chatter. Bren wanted to take a picture of Anthony’s face in that moment, full of wonder and emotion. Patrick hugged him, and then Sandy hugged him. Bren had been about to come in and put a hand on Anthony’s shoulder when he bolted from the room past him, pushing his way away from the crowd around the cake.
Bren stared at Patrick, who stared right back.
Well, no one really expected Anthony to run out of the room.
Chaos theory at its finest.
Bren left Patrick to deal with the confused partygoers, and he followed Anthony to the bedroom. Listening at the door, he didn’t hear anything, so he knocked. It took a few seconds for the doorknob to turn. When it opened, Bren’s heart broke. Which surprised him, since he didn’t think he actually had one left. Anthony’s eyes were bright and wet, his face flushed. Bren watched him for half a second before he came into the room, and Anthony bridged the gap to step into his arms.
“What is it?” Bren whispered into Anthony’s hair, running his fingers through the overgrown mess. God, they both needed haircuts. Too bad neither of them cared.
“I feel so stupid,” Anthony said, his voice drifting toward laughter.
“Why?”
“No one has ever thrown a party for me before. I mean, I probably had birthday parties as a kid, but parents kind of have to do that. I can’t believe you guys did this.”
“Patrick saw your birthda
y on your paperwork. He wanted you to spend the day with people who care about you.”
Anthony nodded. It seemed he was beyond words.
“Let’s hang out here for a minute, and then we can go back out. There’s cake. And beer.”
Anthony laughed through his tears.
“There’s always beer.”
“Thank Christ for that.”
It took a minute for Anthony to get himself together enough for them to rejoin the party. No one said anything to him about his little emotional meltdown. Patrick met Bren’s eyes over Anthony’s head, and his expression told Bren they’d be having a chat later.
They laughed and talked around the food, picking through the wings, as they sat in chairs and leaned against counters. Not once since the funeral had Bren had so many people in his house. If he were completely honest with himself, he’d admit he didn’t mind so much. But Bren had never been completely honest with himself. He didn’t much like where honesty got him.
Well, okay, he kind of wished them all gone when they started singing. Bren cringed and Anthony did the awkward moment of silence while he waited for them to finish their birthday rendition, so off-key it was in a completely different universe of bad. Then he puckered his lips, and Bren’s cock twinged while Anthony blew out the candles. He had something Anthony could blow after everyone else left.
Bren felt pretty good, he had to admit. His life had its good days and bad. Mostly bad.
But today was a good day.
He glanced around the kitchen, peeking around the refrigerator, but didn’t see Anthony. Frowning, Bren checked around the corner into the living room and wished he hadn’t. Anthony stood there with Sean, a fork against his lips as Sean fed him cake off his own plate. He laughed at something Sean said and frosting spilled from the corner of his mouth, and Sean wiped it away with his thumb. The scene, so intimate, froze Bren’s blood.
Without a word, he grabbed a six-pack, walked into his bedroom, and slammed the door.
Fuck. Them. All.
THE KNOCK on his bedroom door woke him out of an alcohol-induced sleep. Everything remained hazy around the edges, blurring and fogging like a windshield on a cold, rainy day. It took a minute for him to register Anthony standing just inside the door, cowering maybe, but there nonetheless.
“I thought you’d be off fucking Sean,” Bren said, his manners giving way to the hostile greeting. Trust wasn’t something he gave easily, and the fucking kid snuck in and took it anyway.
“What?”
“You guys were all cozy earlier. I assumed you’d be off with him.”
“Is that why you’ve been holed up in here? You think I’m fucking Sean?” The rage in Anthony’s eyes burned clear through to flush his cheeks. They took on a red hue, boiling steam, raging fires, all contained beneath the surface of his skin.
Bren didn’t answer right away. He rolled over onto his back, searching for an exit to make the room stop spinning. He didn’t fucking need this. Goddamn it, he might not have been happy before this kid weaseled his way into his life, but he knew what to expect. He knew he’d get up in the morning, or sometimes in the afternoon. He knew he’d eat. He knew he’d drink. He knew he’d pass out. Now he felt as though he’d fallen into the spin cycle on his fucking washing machine.
“No, I think Sean is fucking you,” Bren spat and threw his legs over the side of the bed. He still had his jeans on, but he picked up his shirt off the floor.
Anthony didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He didn’t make eye contact with Bren. The only indication he’d even heard Bren’s accusation stayed clenched in Anthony’s fists on either side of his body. Bren knew the rise and fall of Anthony’s chest, slow, steady, controlled, meant he was working to control his temper. Bren didn’t want him to control his temper. He wanted to fight, to get it all out, to punch something.
Anthony wouldn’t give him that, which pissed him off even more.
“Fuck. You.”
Without another word, Anthony turned and headed for the bedroom door, and maybe out of Bren’s life. The idea of never seeing Anthony again tore at something inside him that he didn’t think would heal. The rage boiled over his ability to contain it.
“Don’t come back.” The words were meant to come out as a growl, but it turned into a scream. His voice cracked in the middle on the strength of a sob. Anthony paused, almost as if he wanted to answer, but then kept walking, out of the bedroom, out of the house, and out of his life.
Bren closed his eyes and waited for the pain to break him.
Seventeen
JESUS, WHY did life have to be so fucking hard?
Anthony understood now why that seemed to be Aaron’s personal motto. Just when he thought maybe he’d found something good, fate snatched it from him. He wished he could just catch a break.
The walk from the bus took him right next to the pizza place, so he stopped for dinner before wandering back to the liquor store. Kevin waved as Anthony made his way to the pint room and the stairs that led to his tiny, rundown apartment. Even it had started to feel claustrophobic in the wake of Bren’s accusations. If they didn’t want him there anymore, maybe he could talk to Sean about somewhere else. He only needed a couple more weeks to finish saving for the car. He could couch-surf until then, right?
Anthony dropped the pizza on the empty table and grabbed his laptop from the bed. Maybe he could find something online in a Craigslist ad. He just hoped Patrick would let him keep the job until he found something else.
His third pizza that week helped to fill the hole inside him as he looked through the ads. Most of the rents were more than he made in a month. He’d have to give up food and his car to move out of the apartment over the store. He found one that maybe he could do, a room for rent. He clicked on the link to respond by e-mail and fired off a request for information. He was about to close his inbox when he saw he had new e-mail.
It wasn’t from Bren.
His heart raced as he double-clicked on the subject line, which read: I’m so sorry.
Anthony,
My dad found out that you were coming and stopped me from meeting you. He was so angry that he put me on lockdown. He wouldn’t let me write or call. I finally convinced him to let me e-mail you to see if you’re okay. I saw your e-mail that said that you’re staying with someone in Ferndale. Are you okay there? My dad’s not mad anymore and says you can come stay with us. We can even come get you.
I miss you,
Jay
Anthony blinked and read it again. And again. He read it until it blurred through his tears. He read it until the ball of flame in his throat threatened to consume him. Then he read it again and put the laptop in his lap, fingers on the keys. Instead of e-mailing, he switched to chat.
I could have been dead.
His chat dinged, reminding him that by logging into chat, he was visible to the world. Fuck the world. He took his status to offline and opened the chat window to read Jay’s message.
I know you’re angry. I didn’t know what to do.
I’m sorry.
Please.
Anthony looked away, over the cooling pizza and out of the small window above his makeshift bed. God, he wanted to believe Jay. He wanted someone to still want him to be there, to want him to be fucking anywhere. No one had posted on his wall. No one had e-mailed but Allen. Now Bren had pushed Anthony out of his life. It wouldn’t be too long before Patrick did the same, and then he’d be alone again.
Why should I trust you?
You said I could come and stay with you and then you disappeared.
He waited because the response seemed to take longer that time. Maybe Jay had to think of another lie to tell. Maybe he was trying to decide how to earn back Anthony’s trust.
I guess you have no reason to trust me.
I wish I could see you. You’re so close.
I’ve missed you so much.
Something inside of Anthony tore at that. He missed Jay too. Whenever life seemed too hard, Jay h
ad always made it better. God, he didn’t know what to do.
I miss you too.
The ding again, and Anthony forced himself to look at the screen.
Please, just let me and my dad come get you. If you don’t like it here, we can take you back.
I just really want to see you.
Anthony took a long, slow, deep breath. He wanted to think he’d learned from his mistakes. Just over a month ago, he’d packed up everything he owned and left on the word of someone who then abandoned him. If it weren’t for Patrick and Bren, he’d have nothing.
I will meet you. That’s all I can promise for now.
He closed the box of pizza as his stomach churned around the anxiety inside it.
Where?
Where indeed. Jay didn’t need to be inside the liquor store. Anthony was only inside because he worked there. Maybe the pizza place. No, he didn’t want anywhere associated with him in case things went bad. Jay didn’t know where he was. He only knew it was a liquor store. Until he could trust Jay, maybe they should keep things on neutral ground. But it had to be someplace close enough so he could run.
The Sunoco on Woodward Ave and Ardmore Dr.
The box dinged again almost immediately.
We can be there tonight around eight?
Eight would make it nearly dark, but the gas station was always pretty well lit.
Fine.
The final message came through as clear as a bell.
I can’t wait to see you.
Anthony slammed his laptop closed and grabbed the pizza. He’d lost his appetite. Between the fight with Bren and Jay’s sudden reappearance into his life, he didn’t want to think about food or anything else right then. Several minutes passed as he stood at the top of the stairs, pizza in one hand, railing in the other. Then he moved, the world starting to spin again.
“Hey, Anthony, can we talk for a minute?” Patrick called from the front as Anthony snuck into the cooler to throw his pizza next to the partial gallon of milk and six-pack of Pepsi he’d left there.
