by Posy Roberts
Louis chuckled. “So I take it you’re enjoying breakfast?”
Another bite was Bash’s answer.
“What are you doing for the holidays? Do you have . . . ? Are you expected . . . ?”
“No plans. No one in my family even knows where I am these days, extended or otherwise, so . . .”
“Would you like to . . . stay here? I mean . . .”
Bash scowled as he took a sip of coffee, leaving a few drops on his whiskers. “I won’t take advantage of your generosity.”
Louis handed him a cloth napkin. “What if I want you to?”
“You don’t. Plus, I need to make it on my own.”
“Why on your own? No one makes it on their own.”
Bash shook his head but remained silent.
“That’s a farce, making it on our own. I just . . .” Louis growled. “That pisses me off so much. We aren’t fucking islands. We’re people who live in a society that’s supposed to be there when shit goes bad, holding each other up until we get back on our feet. And right now, aren’t things bad for you?”
“Very,” Bash whispered. “But if I’m ever going to earn self-respect and my father’s respect, I have to make something of myself.”
“You’re already something damn amazing from what I’ve seen.”
“Oh?” Bash’s mouth curled up on one side in the sweetest little smile. “What have you seen that’s so amazing?”
“You’re funny. You’re nice. And you have a perspective few are granted in life.” He held up a hand before Bash could comment. “Not that what happened to you is good in any way, shape, or form, but what you’ve lived through and seen gives you a view of the world so different than my own. I don’t know the way around the money world despite having enough in the bank to make me very comfortable now, but you do. You know how it works. And because of the last year, you know how broken the system is. Think of the knowledge you’ve gained.”
“If only someone would hire me to tell them what’s wrong with the world and listen to me rant long enough that they’d hear some of my ideas on how to fix it.” Bash rolled his eyes, clearly thinking that wasn’t a true possibility.
“Yeah. If only.”
“Pipe dream.”
“Or is it?” Louis shrugged. “I know the right kind of people that actually want to make a difference in the world, or at least I know the people who can get me in contact with them.”
“Ah,” Bash said with an exaggerated nod, a smug smile creeping across his lips. “Networking at its finest. And there’s nothing quite like it in politics from what I understand. Except maybe for Wall Street.”
Louis suspected Bash knew the Wall Street crowd well. “Or Hollywood. And, yeah, I hate that part of my job, but if I want to make a difference, a real difference, I need to be there to schmooze philanthropists so I can shape policy.” He shrugged. “DC’s homeless population is shrinking, down for the third year in a row—”
“Geez. You really are a policy wonk, aren’t you?”
Louis chuckled. “Yes.” He snorted. “But what those numbers don’t tell you is that people like you, single adults without kids, well, those numbers have gone up. And why?”
“A lot of reasons from what I’ve seen.”
“Well, I’m open to hearing them if you care to share.”
Bash shook his head. “It’s too early to get that serious.”
“Touché. It’s a bit of a mess out there,” Louis said as he adjusted his collar.
“I need to get out of your hair.”
“Got somewhere to be today?”
Bash’s brows quirked just enough to let Louis know he took that as a jibe.
“I didn’t mean that as an insult, like, that you have no place to be because you’re homeless. That’s not . . .” He scoffed. “I keep tripping over my own tongue with you. I don’t know what it is, but the wrong words just spill out. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. We homeless do have places to be from time to time. I have meetings and job interviews. I spend a lot of time at the library searching for work and talking to the outreach lady that helps me. She helped me get my ID and occasionally helps fill up my SmarTrip card so I can get places.”
“Again, I’m sorry for being stupid.”
“You’re not stupid. Naïve, perhaps.”
Louis chuckled. “Ya think? I’m out of my depth with this. My parents struggled with money when I was younger. House nearly foreclosed on when the housing bubble burst. Weeks of living on ramen, rice, and what we caught in the Bay. Any of the haul we ate was less money in the bank, so that sucked.”
“Hunger is hell.”
Louis nodded. “Sure the fuck is. But I learned to garden that summer.” He pointed to the back of the house. “You should see what I grow out there.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“Loads of tomatoes. I love ’em. Cucumbers, strawberries, peas, greens, herbs, potatoes.”
Bash took three bites in quick succession.
“Talk of food make you hungry?”
Bash got “Mm-hmm” out around a massive bite.
“Anyway, my idea of a struggle is different than yours. The only tent I’ve slept in is one I set up at a park or campground where I stayed for a few nights. Youth hostels in Europe are the closest I’ve gotten to a homeless shelter. I’ve slept in my car, but only for a few hours.” Louis shrugged. “I get the hunger bit. Probably not the same way as you, but I know what it’s like to go without food for a few days. That’s why I donate food, why I help build houses. It’s probably why I blurted out my invitation last night.”
Bash skimmed a thumb along the inside of Louis’s elbow, a ticklish delight. “I’m glad you did. Sleeping in a bed again was amazing, and to do it without having to listen to a sermon or pray with someone was great.” He pointed with his fork at the egg bake. “And this is fucking amazing. The sausage . . .”
“I made the sausage. They’re tiny meatballs, really.”
“You did?”
“I had fresh herbs to use. Less to dry that way.” He shrugged, not wanting to get into how much time he spent in the kitchen making single-serve meals he could freeze for later. That way he didn’t have to be reminded daily of the hours he and Mati had spent cooking together. The less time he had to spend in there during the average week was well worth the days he cooked all day long. A trade-off.
“Next thing you’ll tell me is that you can your tomatoes, make pickles and jelly, and brew your own beer.”
Louis’s mouth curled all crooked and weird—his guilty-as-charged look, as Mati had called it—and Bash barked out a laugh.
“Oh my god. You’re one of those.”
“Those? What the fuck does that mean?” Louis put his hands on his hips.
“You’re an IPA microbrewer, DIYer, zero-waste, wannabe hippie.”
Louis chuckled. “Yeah? Remember my major in college. Family and consumer sciences started off as home ec. Cooking, sewing, canning, focus on the home.”
“Yeah, but . . .”
Louis shrugged. “I planned on being the stay-at-home dad too. That’s what we both wanted. After Mati’s maternity leave, she was going to head back to the law office. She loved her work. I didn’t really have anything to dive into, and when she found out she was pregnant, I sorta stopped looking.”
“You say that like it was a surprise, her getting pregnant.”
Louis snorted. “You could say that.”
“Oooo, I hear a story in that tone.”
“Not sure I’m ready to get into that yet, but either way, let’s move out to the living room at least.”
“Okay, but this bed is amazing. I could live in it, I think.”
Louis chuckled as he gathered the dishes up. “Why don’t you get dressed? And try on the red sneakers. Wear ’em around the house to see if they’ll work. I don’t want you getting blisters.”
“Okay, worrywart,” Bash said with a chuckle.
Louis carried the tray into the kitchen and made qui
ck work of cleaning up, then refilling both their coffee mugs. He flicked on the natural-gas fireplace. The living room was often colder for some reason.
“Wow,” Bash said as he walked toward the window and peered out toward the street. It was bright with the sunlight reflecting on all that snow. “The plow hasn’t even been through yet. Looks like your sidewalk is done, though.”
“It’s hired out, and the company starts crazy early.”
“So, I’m stuck here,” Bash let out on a sigh.
“You’re not stuck. We can walk to the Metro from here, same as we did last night.” Louis sat in the armchair closest to the fireplace. “Are you anxious to leave already?”
Bash shuffled a bit and sat down on the window ledge, sipping his coffee. “Not really. From up here I can pretend for a bit longer.”
“What are you pretending?”
“That this is my house. That I really did make it on my own, enough to prove to my dad that I could, at least. It’s not a penthouse or a sprawling mansion like he has, but it’s a great place.”
Louis appreciated Bash’s smile, partially hidden by his full beard, but the way his eyes lit up couldn’t be disguised. He needed to find peace. At the very least, he needed to find a way to come to terms with his past. Louis didn’t know how or if he even could. Could Louis even help? Maybe this was one time he needed to just step the fuck back and not put his foot in it.
But the way Bash looked out over the snowy neighborhood warmed Louis. He looked good perched in that forgotten nook, like he belonged there.
“So . . .” Somehow Louis had to move the day forward or he’d end up kissing Bash again, and that wasn’t what this was. It really wasn’t. Even if something inside Louis kept whispering to give it a chance.
No. Won’t confuse things for Bash. He needs to get on his feet and deal with his issues. And I have shit of my own to deal with.
But the kiss last night was different, remember?
Yeah, he remembered. He really, really, really remembered. He’d stroked himself off in the shower this morning because of it, but that was only because it had been a while. That’s what he told himself, at least, even if he knew deep down to his bones it was a lie. He’d been so busy with work, getting everything tied down for the holiday break, that he’d not had time in the day to jerk off. Right? Hell, he fell asleep glued to his phone answering last-minute emails most nights. How many times had he been startled awake when his phone landed on his face? Too many to count.
“Earth to Louis,” Bash singsonged.
“Huh?”
“You were about to say something.”
“Oh, right. Uh. Do you want to go shopping? I need to go to Costco to buy food to donate to make up for the crab fiasco. They have underwear and socks by the dozens if you need anything. I’ll . . . Not that you have to accept, but I’m more than willing to help you out if . . .” A sigh ended his attempt at forming a coherent sentence.
“We’re sorta snowed in, if you hadn’t noticed.”
Louis looked at the clock. “The plows’ll be here before long. I don’t think they’ve ever been later then eleven.”
“Well, I don’t want you spending your hard-earned money on me,” Bash said.
“Maybe I want to.”
Bash scowled. “Why?”
Louis sat forward, elbows pressing into his knees. “I like . . . spoiling people in my life.”
“Does that mean I’m in your life now?” Bash said with a teasing lift of a brow.
“Maybe.” Louis licked his lips and felt them pull into a crooked smile.
“Do I get a say in this ‘in your life’ thing?”
“Sure, but, I mean, you slept in my bed last night. That means something . . .” They were flirting, right? Louis had a ghost of a memory of how flirting made butterflies take flight, so yeah, that’s exactly what this was.
“And you were a perfect gentleman about it, so I’m not sure that counts as being in your life.”
“We made out in the tub. I fucking finger-fed you. I’ve never done that with anyone. Not even Mati.”
Bash turned to face him, setting his coffee mug on the wide window ledge. “Is that so? I never would’ve guessed that. You were a natural.”
“Do you have experience with that sort of thing?”
Bash tilted his head.
“And I . . . I don’t even know what to ask,” Louis said with a laugh.
Bash stood and slapped his thighs. “I could stand a few pair of underwear, if you’re serious.”
“Hmmm, so we’re changing the subject, I see. Okay . . . Yes, I’ll buy you underwear. Need more socks?”
“No. What you gave me last night is more than enough, but if you wanted to donate more, I have a few friends who could use some.”
“Sure. Let’s go shopping.”
“Yes, let’s.”
11
Dream Away
Just as Louis promised, the plow had been past the house by the time Sebastian was ready to leave. Good thing. As Louis drove, Sebastian looked down side streets that were buried yet, but they stuck to main roads, so they didn’t have to worry about getting stuck.
Louis drove an SUV, likely a good thing considering what he had planned once they got to Costco. Sebastian was along for the ride more than anything. He had no idea what this Costco place was, but apparently they sold underwear, socks, and chickens. Weird. But it was a diversion and a few more hours in warmth. And it was refreshing being away from the same old, same old.
The parking lot was nearly deserted—people likely still stuck at home—but those coming out had carts heaping.
Sebastian gestured toward a woman who had three kids trailing her. “Do they think this is the snowpocalypse?”
Louis let out a low chuckle that Sebastian couldn’t help but categorize as sexy. Hell, a lot of what the guy did was sexy. “Not everyone is as comfortable around snow as a New Yorker.”
“We have no choice.”
“Come on.” Louis grabbed a cart just inside the door and showed a guy inside his ID. He said something to the man that Sebastian missed.
Bash fished his ID out and flashed it at the guy, getting a wave and a “Welcome.”
He caught up to Louis. “What the hell is this place? They require ID? Do you have to be twenty-one too? Good thing I am.”
Louis took large strides as though he knew exactly where he was headed. “It’s to prove membership.”
“I’m not a member.”
“No, but you’re my guest.”
“Okay . . .”
Apparently Costco was a huge warehouse with tables loaded with products, rows of shelves stacked to the ceiling, and boxes that turned into displays. He couldn’t help thinking one of those boxes would make a good shelter, at least short-term. The cardboard was a hell of a lot sturdier than the boxes he had back under the bridge right now, triple walls versus his wimpy double walls.
Sebastian struggled to keep up. Louis had long legs, and he used them to propel them both to a section in the store that held clothes. He tossed pack after pack in the cart, and when Bash caught up, he reached in to see what Louis was so sure about.
Crew socks with a cushioned sole, arch support, and a smooth seam across the toe. They would keep feet warm with the wool in them, dry, but . . .
“Some people might be allergic to wool,” Sebastian dared.
“Right. I’m not the best when thinking about that stuff.” Louis picked up an eight-pack of sports socks. “Would these work better?”
“Yeah. They get dirty easy, but that’s okay.”
“I can make this a regular thing now that I know how important socks are.” Louis gestured to the packs of underwear. “Nothing special, but pick out the size and fit you prefer.”
Sebastian hefted a few, not entirely sure.
“You can buy more than one style,” Louis said.
As hard as it was for him, Sebastian chose a pack of boxer briefs and the one pack of low-rise briefs they
had in stock.
Louis grabbed a package of small T-shirts and tucked them in the cart, then grabbed a box of Calvin Klein boxer briefs in Sebastian’s size before asking, “Need anything else?”
“No. This is far too much.”
Louis furrowed his brow. “It’s not; now let’s go.”
They headed to the women’s clothes next and loaded up the cart there before heading into the kids’ section and then over to the food aisles.
“Which foods go over best? Stuff that lasts, sustains you, but doesn’t cause . . . digestive issues.”
Sebastian smiled. “So, you know how hard it is to find a public toilet in this city?”
“I do, but Oscar and I are working with a fairness coalition to make sure more are built or made available.”
“Good. We need them.”
“So, food . . .”
Sebastian led Louis up and down the aisles this time, pointing out anything he’d thought of as a treat in recent months: nuts, trail mix, good granola bars (not the flavorless shit), and dried fruit. He made a few other suggestions for personal care items before Louis moved over to the large freezers.
“Frozen chickens,” Louis announced as he tossed one to Sebastian.
He nearly dropped it but recovered at the last second, just in time for the second chicken lobbed his way.
Over and over, chicken after chicken landed in the cart.
“You leaving any for other customers?” Sebastian teased, but that was something his old self never would’ve considered.
One more pitch and Louis allowed the freezer door to shut. He shrugged and peered past the frost, pointing as he counted out loud. “I could buy ’em out.”
“Or you could buy smaller chicken pieces or chicken strips,” Sebastian said with a shrug. “I mean, I’d never take a whole chicken at the food pantry.”
“You wouldn’t?”
“What would I do with it? It would go bad before I could eat it all. And how would I even cook it out on the streets?”
Louis grumbled. “So I’ve been buying food people can’t use?”
“Nah. That’s not what I said. Some rent rooms or live in their cars or can go places where they can cook. Just not me. Unless you consider me bumming electricity off someone to get a hot plate working. There are a few parks with public grills too, but I have to hoof it pretty far. By the time I walk there and back, I’ve burned off every calorie I just ate.”
