"Nah, one of our best customers wanted to get rid of it. Asked if I knew anyone who needed it. But if they're giving it to charity, I figure I'm charity enough. So he sold it for all the money I had. Hop in. You're buying us McDonald's."
"Do I look like your sugar daddy?"
"Do you want a ride?" I sigh and lock up the house before hopping into the front seat.
"So where we goin', Genovese? McDonald's is shit."
"It's the only place close to work. I'll let ya buy me dinner some other time." I roll my eyes but don't comment. The drive is pleasant, complete with leg-room and a decent smell. Honestly, it's nice just not to be in the metal death trap that passes for a bus around here. I feel relaxed for the first morning since I started work.
"Thanks," I mumble, surprised at myself.
"Sure. I hate the bus too. Been meaning to get a car for a while anyway." We pull through the drive-through. "Four hash browns and two large coffees," he orders.
"Four? You trying to make me go broke?"
"Yeah. I know. A whole nine dollars. You're basically fucked for the week." He gives me that sardonic grin of his and hands me my food. I stare at it suspiciously. "C'mon, Gio, you'll make it back in an hour now. Live a little." That sounds like a challenge. I rise to challenges.
"You want to live a little why don't you come with my brothers and me tonight? We've got a job."
"You gonna kill somebody?" I laugh in surprise.
"No- fuck, no. We're gonna collect some money. Rough the guy up a bit. I don't kill people." He looks at me, uncertain. "Remember what a rush it was when we fought the first time? You were a fighter before, weren't you? When you were military? Don't you miss the rush?"
"Every day." His eyes go far-away then, and I have no fucking clue what he's thinking about. He shudders, then glances over at me. "Hard to go from combat to- well, fixing shit.
"Then come with."
"Okay. But I'm not fighting. I'll hang back and watch."
"Fine, be a pussy." He gives me a grin, then to my surprise reached over and musses my hair, like I'm all of ten years old. My face grows warm and I push him off. "Goddammit, Kelly, you're such a fuckhead." He just smiles.
8
Kelly shows up, to my surprise, in time to take a shot with us. My brothers talk and joke as they pack their guns, but tonight I'm quiet. It's Kelly's presence beside me, calm and quiet. This could well be the last time I see him. When he sees what I do, what I'm really like, he'll probably not want anything to do with me. Which, fuck, man, I get. I'm one fucked up piece of white trash and I know it. Still the thought of not having him around sucks. I've gotten kinda used to him. But if this is the last day I see him, so be it. I need the money and part of me wants to show him what I'm like when the lights are out and the streets are quiet.
We file into the street, and the night has begun. Manny and Christian lead the way, occasionally shoving each other playfully. They're followed by Marco whose hand rests on his Ruger. He's jumpy. Has been since he almost got shot a few months back. Kelly and I silently bring up the rear. We get to the place alright. It's a liquor store, and guy closing up is the target. I glance back at Kelly.
"You sure you want to see this?"
"I've seen worse. Even if you shot the guy in the face I've seen worse." I raise an eyebrow and open my mouth to ask more, but the man in the store steps out, fumbling with his keys. We step forward. I reach him first, slamming his face into the glass door.
"Mr. White. You missed a payment."
"Please," he begs as Manny and Marco hold his arms against the door. "Take whatever's in the register. It's over four hundred. I can get you the rest next week. Please don't hurt me-"
"You bought a fuckin' swiss chronograph watch last week. That's worth a helluva lot more than four hundred. How'd you pay for it?" He whimpers and I punch him in the kidney hard enough to bruise badly. "I feel like I'm being patient here. How the fuck'd you buy the watch if you've only got four hundred now?"
"Credit- on credit- please!" I sigh dramatically, gesturing at my brothers to let him go. This one's too much of a sniveling coward to try anything besides running, and Marco has his gun out so he won't try that.
"Turn around." He does slowly, with his hands up. "Give us the watch and we'll consider the debt paid in full." His face pales and he shakes his head, his bottom lip trembling.
"No- no please, I just need a little more time-" My fist connects hard with his jaw and adrenaline pumps through me as he staggers back.
"Give me the watch." He's crying now, a pathetic, idiotic mess. What kind of fuckhead buys a watch on borrowed mob money? Not that Harry ever tells us who we're collecting for, but I figure I know pretty well. I wait, stoney-eyed, and eventually he pulls the watch off his wrist and hands it to me. "There ya go. Good boy." I look at Christian. "Get the money from the register."
"No- wait- I need something, you have to give me something-"
"We fuckin' did. We gave you money and you didn't keep your promise, Mr. White. Now get the fuck out of here before I break something." He scrambles off, glancing over his shoulder every few steps. "And don't fuckin' spend money you don't have if you get it from criminals," I shout. Figure I'll give him a piece of free advice.
Marco whoops and takes off running. "He on something?" I ask Manny.
"Fuck if I know. Haven't seen him all day." I watch suspiciously. Doing hard drugs during shake-downs is an easy way to get someone hurt. He knows better. Still, Christian and Manny run off behind him. "See ya at home, G," Manny yells. I take a deep breath and steel myself. This is where Kelly runs away or threatens to go to the pigs on me. This is the end of whatever weird-ass friendship we had. I slowly turn toward him, and my mouth drops open. He's looking at me but it's not with horror or fear. He's smiling and his eyes are shining. He walks toward me. I step out of the light, back into the alley like prey being tracked by a predator. He grabs my shoulders and shoves me gently back into the bricks.
"You're fucking hot. You know that?"
"You think threatening people's hot?" I ask, trying not to feel the strength in his hands or the heat of his body so close to mine. This... this is not what I expected.
"I think you're hot. The way you talk to people- you've got this- this bravado or something. It gets me- fuck- it gets me going." He grabs my wrist and pulls my hand to his cock. I could have pulled away if I wanted. But my blood's pumping hot through my veins and I'm beyond all my reservations. My breath catches in my throat as I feel how hard he is. My own cock twitches with interest.
"Jesus," I murmur. I stroke him through his jeans, feeling the rough fabric brush over him. He's so fucking hard. I love the feel of him under my hand. "I thought you'd flip after seeing that. I mean- it's not all that... moral or whatever."
"I don't know," he breathes, his hands gripping my shoulders more tightly still. I lean into him, wondering what he's going to do, hoping he'll see past my saying I didn't want to do this shit anymore. "But it's really fucking hot. You sure you don't want to fuck anymore?"
"No," I admit. That seems to be the only confirmation he needs. He spins me around and pins me to the bricks with one hand, yanking my pants down with the other. He pulls my hips back until I'm bent over against the wall. I glance back and give him a nod. I'm nearly as hard as he is now, my skin sensitive in the sudden night air. He spits into his hand, then he's thrusting into me. It's raw and hard, and he doesn't seem to care at all about my comfort. He's too far gone.
I love it. It's so hard, so rough, his hands wrapped around my hips as he ruts into me over and over. It hurts. It burns. It feels like the best fucking thing I've ever felt. My eyes roll into my head. There's no way I'm going to last more than a minute or so. The alley's dark and filthy. Anyone could walk by and see us, but right now that makes the feelings even better. I reach a hand down to stroke myself, but Kelly rips it off, placing it back on the wall.
"Want to make you come-" he pants, his warm body draping over me, "With no hands." I
shiver, the warm feeling in the pit of my stomach growing, spreading over my whole body. I'm moaning and gasping, unable to form sentences, barely able to beg him to fuck me, to take me harder. All I can say is his name, his name and fuck yes, harder.
"Oliver-" I gasp, and then I'm coming. My vision explodes into white, and every muscle in my clamps down as pleasure takes me over and over again. It feels never-ending. I'm owned, pulled into his orbit. He's under my skin and I don't think I'm ever going to be able to get him out. I don't want to. He pulls me close and groans just once before I feel him spilling into me. We stay there for a moment panting, our skin sticking together in the warm summer night. Finally, he pulls away, yanking my pants up and giving me one last slap on my ass.
I stare at him, and suddenly, I'm very afraid. His eyes are boring into mine and I feel he can see straight to my soul. If he knew what I'd done- if he knew what my father was like he'd be gone in seconds. I don't want him gone. What the fuck is wrong with me? I want him to stay. I want to be around him all the fucking time. And this is dangerous as fucking hell. His hand reaches behind my neck and he pulls our foreheads together, leaning down to even reach mine. It's so intimate. So terrifying. So why don't I pull away from him?
"You're something, Giovanni Caruso. You know that? Something fucking else." My eyes slide shut and for just a moment I let myself lean into him. Then I pull away and shoot him a tired look.
"And you're a fucking fag, Kelly." He smiles at me, but there's something more behind it this time. It's like he can see what I'm thinking. "But you're a fag with guts. I'm glad you came tonight." He wiggles an eyebrow at me and I roll my eyes. "Like I said. Gay as shit."
"Proud. Let's get out of here." We walk together a few feet apart, our eyes straight ahead. When we part, we don't say goodbye. I don't feel like I need to. I'll see him tomorrow either way.
9
By the end of my second week at the shop, I feel like I'm getting the hang of it. Looking up car parts and fucking with engines is fun, way more fun than I thought it'd be. And it sure as fuck beats pouring drinks all day. Part of that's Kelly, I have to admit. He's funny. Hangs around the shop when I work later than him and shoots the shit with me. Sometimes we go to the Concord after, but now that we've gotta pay full price for drinks, half the fun's gone. We keep fucking, too. Just fucking, though, no kissing or any shit like that. I know I should end it, know I should pull myself away from the dangerous road that shit leads down, but it's too good. Anything else pales in comparison. Fucking Kelly broke me, and his dick's the only remedy.
I go over to Lydia's tonight instead of hanging out with Kelly after our shift's done. She's been accusing me of ghosting her, and really I miss talking to her. I guess I've been a little wrapped up in other shit lately. I knock on the door and she answers a few moments later, a baby on her hip.
"G. Thought you forgot where I lived."
"You could have come to my place," I say, shrugging past her and grabbing Kenzie from her arms. "Hello, beautiful," I say in a high-pitched voice. I'd have to kill anyone that wasn't Lydia who heard that voice. It was one of those things that only happened in this house.
"I tried. Saw Lina, said you were out with some guys from work. You're not going to forget about all of us now that you've got some dumb-ass new job, right?"
"I would never forget about you," I say to Kenzie seriously. She pats my cheek, eyes solemn. I look back at Lydia. "I guess you're alright too. Who else woulda ditched history with me to get high in the bathrooms? Sorry I haven't been around."
"Barely even missed you." She sticks her tongue out at me the way she's done since we were five. I flip her off with my free hand as we make it to the couch and sit. Kenzie babbles to herself in my lap and I nod along like I understand what she's saying. "Would you please just tell me what the fuck is going on with you? You're all happy, you're not around... are you fucking with heroin? Because that shit'll fuck you up. That's like our one rule, G. No heroin."
I roll my eyes. "No. I'm not doing heroin. Jesus. I'm not that fucking stupid. I don't know. I've got a new job. Pays well. I guess I'm happier or some shit?"
"No. There's something going on. I know that look on you. Kinda guilty but... shit, don't laugh at me for saying this, but you're glowing." I stare at her.
"Well, I'm not fucking pregnant, Lydia." She stares back at me, deadpan.
"Good. That shit sucks. Alright, I give up. But you better tell me eventually. I hate it when you keep secrets."
"When there's anything to tell," I say, stretching out my legs up on the coffee table. "I'll tell you. What's goin' on with you?" I can't tell her. Of course, I can't fucking tell her. I can't tell anybody because the stuff I've been doing is gay as shit, and if I say it out loud it can only get worse. Voicing certain things makes em real. And Kelly doesn't need to be any more real. The truth sits there on the tip of my tongue, though, just begging me to tell my best friend.
Instead, I listen to Lydia talk about her kid and her sister, the new asshole her mom's been bringing around. The sound of her voice is comforting. It's her familiar cadence. I know it so well I'd understand her if she was speaking a different language. Talking to her, even if I'm not telling her much, is comforting. It's just good to be around somebody who actually likes me. Lydia likes me, not because we're family, or because we're fucking. She likes me because she's my fucking best friend and she has to. For half a second, I again consider telling her. I push the thought back.
"It's a new person, isn't it?" she says suddenly, and I realize I've been zoning. I give her my best disinterested glance.
"No."
"Oh my god, it is. You're a really shitty liar, G." Fuck. I swallow hard.
"Am not. You've just known me way too damn long. You can read my mind or some bullshit. Fine. It's a new chick. We're boning and the sex is great. Are you happy?"
"No. But I will be when you give me details. Come on, where'd you meet her?"
"The bar."
"Concord? What, is she forty? The only women I've seen at the Concord are hookers and day-drinkers."
"That explains why you go there." She hits me. "Nah, she's sweet. She lives down here but she stays away from the shit most of us get into. Keeps her nose clean. She's really good in bed too. And strong. I don't know where she learned half the shit she knows, but she... she knows a lot of shit." Strong? That's how I'm gonna describe the "girl" I'm seeing? Strong? Lydia grins at me and swings an arm around my shoulder.
"So she's the one that broke your dick a few weeks ago. Glad to see it's working again."
"Just with her," I mumble, glancing down at my hands. I can feel Lydia's wicked smile hitting my back, and frown on principle.
"So that's why you were so freaked out. You've never been a one-woman man. And now you are?"
"Just temporarily." I scowl at her. Her eyes are wider than her grin.
"Holy shit, G. You like this girl. You met someone you actually like."
"No, it's not like that. It's just good sex." Good sex and occasionally talking before and after. Nothing weird. Nothing too weird, anyway. "We just... click. Well. In bed."
"Uh huh. Shit, you're blushing. I haven't seen you blush since high school."
"Shut your goddamn mouth or I'll rip your tongue out," I mumble. "It's just a sex thing. I swear to god. Now can we have a beer and watch some trashy TV like normal people? I'm done with the interrogation."
We do. Kenzie plays with my hair, which means it's definitely time to cut it. Usually, I just have Lina do it. She's good at that shit and does a decent job. Kenzie yanks down hard, giving me a wide grin as she does so like she knows exactly what she's doing. I sigh, but let it happen. Kenzie's a cute kid. It's fun to be around younger ones. My family's old and boring, although if fate decides to get Lina pregnant because I thought that, it can suck a big dick. I stay with Lydia late and help her get Kenzie down to bed. Then I wander home, watching the streetlights flicker in the darkness.
Kelly texts me at two in the
morning, the light from my phone waking me. I groan and look.
You up?
Groggily, I curse him under my breath. Fucking wasting my precious sleeping time with stupid questions. Still. It'd be a dick move not to answer him.
Am now.
Come over.
He just assumes I will. That fuck. It's two in the fucking morning. All the meth heads and crack whores will be out in the streets and he wants me to push through to go over and get laid. I pull on my pants and grab a jacket, walking out the door without a second thought. My dad's not home. Come to think of it, he hasn't been home in almost a week. I vaguely wonder if he's still alive. Probably. Devils are hard fuckers to kill. Maybe he'll stay out a bit longer.
Kelly pulls me into the house by my shirt. For once he's not smiling. We sit on the couch.
"You good?" I ask. He's obviously not good. His hands are shaking and his mouth twitches. His eyebrows push together then pull apart over and over. Instinctively I put a hand on his knee. "What's wrong?"
"My dad died." He says it stone-faced like he doesn't give a shit, but his hands give him away. They're shakier than the ground during earthquake months. I don't know what to say. What the fuck can you say that's right after someone drops death on you? Instead I wrap my arms around him and pull him close to my chest. His breath is warm through my shirt and his cheek presses into me where he leans. He clings to me tightly, like a shipwrecked sailor to a fallen plank. His body seems smaller. Fragile. I stroke his hair. It's so soft. So warm. Why haven't I touched it before?
"I'm sorry," I finally say. It's not enough. How the fuck could that be enough? But nothing I say right now will be enough. That's the nature of death. It goes beyond words. He sighs and pulls back far enough to look at me. His eyes are dry and his mouth is set in a hard line.
"I hated him. You know? Like I really hated him. He fucked me over so many times I lost track. I shouldn't be upset about this. But it feels like my stomach's getting ripped out of my body. It's- fuck, man, it's visceral." He looks guilty and his eyebrows draw together. My hand returns to his hair and I pull him back to my chest. It's where he belongs right now, and I tell myself that's the only reason I do it. To comfort him. That's definitely part of it, and I don't let myself think about the other part.
Sharp Edges: An Urban Gay Romance Page 6
