Hating Cain

by Anders Grey

  A mix of hot shame and anger flooded my face. My fists clenched, my teeth grinding. What the fuck was his problem?

  Without replying I trudged back to my own place, forcing myself not to look back and see if he was watching or not. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

  Not wanting to spend the rest of the night pissed off, I decided to take a walk to clear my head. But first, I needed to pick up the one being in all of Rosecreek who actually gave a shit about me.

  “Roxy?” I called through the front door.

  A moment later a small, half-naked Chinese Crested dog came frolicking down the front foyer. Or at least, she was probably a Chinese Crested. I’d adopted her from an ‘ugly dog’ rescue, where she sat for a while because nobody wanted a mostly hairless dog. Thankfully, she was a perfect fit for me, since I wanted a dog that didn’t shed so much. Despite all the raised brows and weird looks she got, I still thought she was beautiful.

  She let out a small bark, her tongue lolling out in a goofy smile.

  “There’s my girl,” I murmured, clipping the leash to her pink crystal collar and giving the white hair on her head a brief pat. “Let’s go walkies and forget about our stupid next-door neighbor.”

  Roxy yipped in reply. I pretended she was agreeing with me.

  We strode down the driveway and turned onto the main street of Rosecreek community, a perfectly paved curving road lined with rose bushes. The two sidewalks running parallel to the road were brightly lit thanks to the decorative wrought iron streetlamps.

  I pointedly went in the opposite direction of the Hunters’ home–Johnny’s home now, I reminded myself with a scoff–and tried to focus on the pleasant evening air instead of my seething irritation.

  But my mind was too clouded to relax. What the hell happened to Johnny? He wasn’t the heart-of-gold knight I remembered. The quiet, somber boy who stood up for others. The boy with kind and sensitive eyes. The boy I missed so fucking badly.

  Ten years have passed, I thought. Of course he’s not the same. He’s a man now, and so am I.

  But that didn’t explain why this new Johnny acted the way he did. I didn’t remember Johnny being so overtly callous. He was always a lone wolf, always a little cool, but never outright rude like he was acting now. Even considering his emotional turmoil, I didn’t think he was the type of person to threaten me off his property and actually mean it.

  My mood quickly soured. Maybe my nostalgia had been clouding my judgment. Or maybe he got nasty after leaving.

  Then he’ll definitely fit in here, I thought bitterly.

  “Oh my god, Cain!”

  I halted when I heard the shrill voice. My neighbor from a few houses down, Cynthia, waved at me. I straightened up and faked a smile.

  “Hey, Cynthia,” I replied.

  Cynthia took a careless half-glance at the road and rushed over. Roxy wagged her tail, expecting to be pet, but Cynthia ignored her.

  “How are you?” When I opened my mouth to respond, she cut me off. “Oh my god, did you see that moving truck? What’s going on over there at the Hunters’ place?”

  I understood immediately. She didn’t really want to talk to me—she just wanted to know if I had the latest gossip. That was her currency.

  She shook her head with a click of her tongue. “And so sad what happened to Edward and Denisa.”

  “It was a tragedy,” I replied honestly.

  The Hunters were gone in an instant. It was still hard to think about. I didn’t know them very well, besides the fact that they were Johnny’s parents, but the accident happening to a couple I’d lived next to my entire life had shaken me. I swallowed the lump in my throat, not wanting Cynthia to see me getting so emotional.

  Thankfully Cynthia seemed more interested in the moving truck. She craned her head towards Johnny’s house as if she could glean any information from this distance. “So, did you see them? The new family?”

  “Oh, it’s not a family,” I told her. “It’s actually their son.”

  She gasped. “What? No. Not the one who ran away?”

  Yeah, the one who ran away and apparently joined the asshole circus.

  I nodded. “That’s the one.”

  Cynthia shot me a concerned frown. “I can’t believe it. What was his name again?”

  I hesitated for a second, not wanting to taste his name on my tongue after our fun little argument. “Johnny.”

  “And they left him in their will?” She gave a little scoff. “You’d think they’d leave everything behind to a family member who didn’t run off on them.”

  The corners of my lips twitched down. Despite my argument with Johnny, I wasn’t sure I liked Cynthia’s tone.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Well, he wasn’t exactly around for the past–what, ten years?”

  “Yeah, but he’s still their only son.”

  God, now I’m standing up for the guy? I need to dump these nostalgia goggles.

  “He’s not making much, is he?” Cynthia asked in a hushed voice, shielding her mouth with her hand as she spoke.

  “How do you know?” I asked, genuinely curious. Was she a mind reader or something?

  “Did you see the size of the moving truck? It’s tiny!”

  “That doesn’t mean anything. He could be buying brand new furniture, or just using the stuff his parents left behind,” I pointed out. But as I said it, I realized I didn’t know anything about the new Johnny. He was like a stranger to me.

  “I guess it doesn’t matter if his parents left him money behind,” Cynthia went on with a strange huff. She made a face and lowered her voice again. “And then there was that rumor, you know, about–” She stopped suddenly, realizing who she was talking to. “Well, I mean…”

  Two things struck me at once.

  One, Cynthia–and probably the rest of Rosecreek–still thought Johnny was gay based on a rumor. Second, she assumed–correctly–that I was also gay. Not only that, but she was hesitant to bring it up to my face, which made me think she was somehow ashamed on my behalf.

  Don’t worry, Cynthia—I suck cock so you don’t have to!

  I tried not to raise my brow at her. It was obvious she regretted her statement, as her cheeks turned pink from embarrassment.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I’m gay, Cynthia. You can say it.”

  That just made her blush harder. Oh, the humanity. I forced myself not to roll my eyes. I couldn’t believe she was making a big deal about it in this day and age. This conversation wasn’t doing anything to ease my foul mood. The worst part was knowing that Cynthia only accepted me based on the amount of money I made.

  If I wasn’t swimming in cash, would the people of Rosecreek think differently of me? And would they have the guts to tell me to my face?

  A soft whine made me look down. Roxy was gently straining on her leash, looking at me over her shoulder, obviously eager to continue her walk since Cynthia wasn’t paying her any attention.

  “Sorry, Cynthia,” I said, hoping to cut her off before she launched into another round of gossip. “I’ve got to finish walking my dog.”

  “Right, yes. Sorry again to bother you. I’ll be on my way.” In a hushed tone, she added, “But do let me know if you find out anything else!”

  When Cynthia continued on her power walk, I let out a sigh.

  After all that, she still thinks I want to gossip with her?

  Talking to both Johnny and Cynthia had worn me out. I finished Roxy’s walk around the block and trudged back home. When I glanced at the Hunters’–Johnny’s–all the lights were turned off.

  I frowned. I checked the time. Eight-thirty in the evening was a bit early to be asleep. Now with a slightly clearer head, I wondered if maybe Johnny was just tired and that was why he snapped at me. I did have a habit of taking things too personally.

  An idea popped into my mind. The way through to a man’s heart was his stomach–not that I wanted to get into Johnny’s heart–so perhaps a little food would
go a long way in terms of repairing the bridge he’d burned between us.

  I set my mind on it. The last thing I needed in this community was one more person to hate–especially if the feeling was mutual.

  So, I was going to kill him with kindness.

  3

  Johnny

  The doorbell rang once. I ignored it and buried my head deeper into the pillow. I figured if it was anyone important, like the lawyer, they’d already have my cell number and wouldn’t need to greet me at the door like it was the fucking Middle Ages.

  Unfortunately, ignoring it didn’t make it go away. When I was falling into another bout of sleep, it rang again. Twice. More insistently. Like whoever was there was fully determined to ruin my morning.

  I growled and stormed out of bed. I didn’t bother smoothing my hair or getting dressed. If the person standing on my doorstep was so intent on bothering me at–how early was it, eight in the morning?–then I had no qualms about punishing them with a view of me shirtless and wearing only boxers.

  Of course, with the enormous size of the house, it took me almost a full minute to reach the door, during which the person added a few more annoying rings.

  I grabbed the door and threw it open, but when I saw who was standing there I nearly choked on it.

  “You?” I sputtered.

  Cain smiled chipperly with his arms folded behind his back. I had no idea what he was so happy about. My scowl deepened.

  “What do you want?” I demanded.

  “Good morning, Johnny,” he said, his smile not fading.

  I didn’t miss the way his eyes slowly raked over me, up and down like he was judging me for being half-naked, which pissed me off even more.

  My jaw fell open from sheer disbelief. I could not believe this guy. After our big blow-up last night, why was he still trying to talk to me? Did he have memory loss or something?

  Maybe he’s just dumb.

  Cain went on as if nothing was wrong.

  “I just wanted to ask if you’d like to join me for breakfast this morning,” he said. “You know, to welcome you back to the community. I thought–”

  “No,” I snapped.

  Cain’s smile glitched for just a second but quickly bounced back. “I see. I suppose you’ve filled up your fridge, then? I assumed since you got here late last night and went to sleep promptly that you wouldn’t have had a chance to do so.”

  Went to sleep promptly? How the hell does he know that?

  “Have you been spying on me or something?” I asked in a growl.

  “No, of course not. Don’t be ridiculous,” he replied. “I saw your lights go off after I walked my dog, so I figured you were asleep. No spying whatsoever.”

  “Still creepy.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry. “I’ll make sure to avert my eyes from your house’s direction in the future.”

  Oh, now he’s being sarcastic with me too?

  I gritted my teeth, feeling my temper heat up to a boil. “I don’t need anything, especially not from you. And didn’t I already tell you to get away from my property? Goodbye, Cain.”

  Without waiting for a reply, I slammed the door, but not before I glimpsed the expression of mild shock on his face.

  I stormed away from the door, vowing to ignore any further rings of the doorbell, but thankfully none came. Cain got the point and left me alone, just like I’d been begging him to since last night.

  Who did he think he was, anyway? Did he think I was a child who couldn’t take care of myself? I trudged into the kitchen. I figured I might as well scarf something down since I was awake and too angry to go back to sleep.

  I threw the fridge door open.

  It was empty.

  I blinked at the shelves. Nothing. Not even in my worst days of joblessness and low pay did I have a fridge this empty.

  “Shit.”

  A dull sense of disappointment and irritation fizzled in my chest. To top things off, my stomach growled, like it was saying fuck you, Johnny.

  I shut the fridge door, then raided the pantry. It stood wall-to-floor, nine feet of polished wood that should’ve promised an apocalypse-worthy storage of canned and dry food. But of course, it was also empty.

  And why wouldn’t it be? After my parents passed away, the cleaners must have thrown out every perishable thing left behind.

  I ignored the pang of grief that hit me as I thought about my parents and focused instead on my growing hunger and desperation.

  Walking to a breakfast joint or the grocery store was an option–or it would have been, if Rosecreek wasn’t a haughty, secluded community that was only accessible by car. I knew from experience that walking would take nearly an hour, and the building heat of summer nixed it as an option.

  I stood in the large, open-concept kitchen and stared at the wall. Hungry and alone.

  Slowly the fists by my side unfurled as the tension left my body. I let out a deep sigh.

  There was still one option.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose.

  Was I really considering it? And would he even let me in after the way I slammed the door in his face?

  I weighed the options: staying here and slowly starving or sucking up my pride and going to have breakfast at the traitor’s place.

  My stomach quickly made that decision for me.

  When I rang the doorbell, it was followed instantly by a high-pitched barking. I cringed at the sound. Cain mentioned he had a dog, but for some reason I was expecting something big, like a guard dog. The yappy thing behind the door definitely did not sound like a Rottweiler.

  Cain opened it. He looked as well-groomed as he did earlier, with his blond hair brushed to the side and smelling like he’d just stepped out of the shower. The smile was gone, replaced by a thin frown. There was a pink alien in his arms vaguely resembling a dog.

  “Yes?” he said.

  I swallowed the lump of pride in my throat, knowing I’d have to spit out the words to get what I wanted.

  “I, uh… Sorry about before. Being hungry makes me cranky,” I mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

  He raised a brow. “Hungry, huh?”

  It was a statement, not a question. He knew there was no food in my house.

  Probably from spying on me, I thought with a twinge of irritation. Since he knows I didn’t leave to get any.

  “Yes,” I said, trying to get the words out without them morphing into something venomous. “There’s no food in my house, just like you said.”

  That admission made the corner of his lip quirk upwards. The icy frown disappeared and he eased back into a smug smile–one that kind of made me want to punch him.

  “I see,” Cain said. “Well, then. Come on in.”

  He let the alien down from his arms and started down the foyer. The creature didn’t follow Cain right away. It approached me hesitantly, raising a paw and peering up at me from beneath white bangs that looked like they’d been styled by a human hairdresser.

  “Hi,” I said awkwardly, wondering if the dog was going to abduct me into its UFO.

  I leaned down to give it a brief scratch. Its strange skin was surprisingly soft. Despite my initial reaction, I warmed to the dog quickly when it licked my hand.

  I followed Cain into the kitchen, careful not to kick his weird dog as it trotted beside me. The hallway opened up beneath a marble archway into a grand open concept kitchen with an island in the center. I noticed plates of food had already been set up on the island. The air smelled like coffee and pancake syrup.

  My stomach growled loudly. Embarrassingly.

  Cain grinned at me as he poured coffee into a mug. “Glad you came over, huh?”

  “Yeah,” I mumbled. “Everything looks good.”

  He handed me a bone china plate that was large enough to sample everything he’d laid out. “Help yourself.”

  I took it and began piling up food. “You don’t have maids or servants or anything to do that?”

  Cain snorted. “No.
Why, are you looking for work?”

  “Ha ha,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I have a job, actually.”

  He eyed me as I filled the plate up. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought he actually looked pleased.

  “Is that right?” he said as he poured a disgusting amount of sugar into his coffee. I wondered if he was distracted or if he always drank coffee like that. “What do you do?”

  I knew the hidden meaning behind his question.

  Why did you move back into this house? And why didn’t you have enough money to stay where you were?

  I sat at the island with my full plate, keeping a healthy distance between us–not far enough to be rude, but not sitting close enough to touch elbows. I poured a small amount of syrup on my pancakes.

  “I’m an artist,” I told him.

  His brows rose. “Really?”

  I watched his expression warily, unsure of how he really felt. “Yeah.”

  To my surprise a small smile appeared on his face. “Hey, I remember you used to like doodling. You said the teachers were always getting mad at you for doing that instead of listening.”

  I found it odd that he remembered that. “Right. Well, not much has changed except that now I do that for a living.”

  “That’s really cool,” Cain said, leaning on the counter. “What kinda stuff do you draw?”

  “Whatever the client wants,” I replied with a shrug, cutting into the pancakes with my fork.

  “Do you mail them the canvas, or something?”

  “No. Most of my work is digital. I don’t do traditional art much anymore.”

  Cain peered at me over the rim of his mug. “Why not?”

  I avoided his eyes and shovelled half a pancake in my mouth so I wouldn’t have to reply. When I finished, I said, “These are pretty good. Did you make these?”

  Cain grinned. “Sure did. It’s just boxed pancake mix, but I made ‘em. Just don’t tell the neighbors.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He rolled his eyes and downed a gulp of coffee. I noticed he had less on his plate, only some scrambled eggs and a bowl of fruit. Why had he made so much food if he was barely going to eat? Did he go to the effort of making all this food just for my sake?