Heartless (Keeping Secrets) Page 2

  I WAS soul sick by the time I got back to my apartment on the other side of town. It had taken me a good two-and-a-half hours to get there, and I had wallowed in regret the entire way. Maybe if I were a different person, I would’ve called Cade when I got in and apologized, but I wasn’t. So I wouldn’t. I couldn’t let him see any weakness in me.

  I was tired by the time I hit the rusted outside steps that led up to my second-floor apartment. Some of the Hispanics who lived below me were already outside in their lawn chairs, smoking cigarettes and blasting music. I waved at them. Raphel, the big daddy of the group, held up his beer in greeting. He and his two sons, along with most of the other people on the first floor, worked construction for various contractors in town. Most people talked crap about them, but they were actually pretty cool. Raphel was a nice guy when he was drinking, so I hoped they’d bought the twenty-four pack. He would usually throw me a couple when they did.

  “Nice shoes, conejito!” his youngest son, Juan, yelled after me. Well, at least someone liked them. They all liked to call me conejito because I was small and apparently petable. It meant bunny. Juan always said I was pretty as a girl and let me sit in his lap when things got too bad upstairs.

  I approached the front door cautiously, knowing they were both home. My stepfather’s beat-up ’97 Toyota was a testament to that. It would be okay if Mom was home and awake, but if she was asleep…. I turned the knob and pushed. The door was never locked when they were home.

  I walked into the living room and was assaulted by the smell of cheap beer and something burning. I sighed as I saw Mom sleeping soundly in her bathrobe on the couch. She had narcolepsy, so she passed out quite often. It kept her from driving and working most jobs. She’d gotten disability a couple months back because of it, which actually put us a little better off. We weren’t always so bad off, if the things my stepdad mumbled in my ear when he got wasted could be believed. He’d apparently been in real estate before the market had bottomed out, and he’d lost his company to his business partner and his shirt to the bank that’d repossessed his several-million-dollar home over in Biltmore Forest. I didn’t remember that house or anything in it but apparently we used to live across the street from Kevin and his parents.

  “Hey, Jason. How was your day, big man?” My stepdad’s oily voice sent a shiver of dread through me. I swallowed.

  “It was fine.” I crossed into the kitchen from the living room and turned off the stove eye as it boiled what looked to be the remains of food but was now so black it was hard to tell what it had been.

  “You weren’t home when I got in.” He was in the hallway now, moving toward me. Wake up, Mom, I thought desperately. Please, wake up. “I had hoped to spend a little time with you before your mom got back from your Aunt Wanda’s house.” I’d forgotten: she went over there every Friday to go grocery shopping and spend some time with her family. If I had known, I would’ve stayed at Cade’s and put up with his clingy routine.

  “Sorry about that. I was studying with a friend.” I went to the fridge and opened it. Soda, milk, eggs, some sort of pasta bowl. I wasn’t hungry, because Cade had gone through a drive-through on our way to his place and had bought me a meal, but I needed something to busy my hands with. I grabbed a soda and popped the lid of the can.

  “Just a friend?” That was a deadly question. I covered my hesitance with a deep swallow of my pop. When I finished, I nodded. He was standing in the space between the kitchen and the hallway. There was no way to get past him without seeming like I was deliberately avoiding touching him. Shit.

  “Yeah. Just a friend. He’s too ugly to fuck.” I knew he liked it when I talked like that, despite the fact that when Mom was awake, he’d correct me. I leaned a hip against the fridge and forced myself to smile. Cocky and confident usually worked best on him too.

  “Good. I’d hate to think you’d waste your time with some loser high school boys.”

  I finally raised my eyes to meet his. My stepdad was just a hair taller than me but twice as thick through the chest, his arms were bigger than my head when he flexed, and his once-washboard stomach was quickly turning to fat from sitting on the couch without a job for the past ten years. He had a round baby face with a wide mouth, brown eyes, and light hair that he kept shaved in a military cut.

  “Nope. You know me, Jonathan. I’m a hit-it and quit-it kind of guy.” He preferred that I call him Jonathan when we were alone. I called him Dad in front of Mom so she could pretend it was something else, but we all knew what it was.

  “You won’t quit me, baby.” My stomach started rolling, and I glanced toward my mom, whose chest rose and fell in even sleep. My stepdad chuckled. “No worries, baby. She’s out like a light. I gave her something with supper to help her doze.” Probably the Ambien he’d bought off Jim, one of his buddies.

  “That’s cool.” I shifted from foot to foot, antsy. “I really need to go do some homework. I want my weekend clear for some fun.”

  “Come give Daddy a kiss and then you can go study. The game comes on in another ten minutes, so that’s all we’ll have time for.” He was grinning like he’d won the fucking lotto, and my heart pounded adrenaline through my veins. Fight or flight, my mind demanded one or the other. I shuffled forward, wrapped my arms around his meaty neck, and tilted my head up for a kiss.

  I STARED blankly at my history book on my navy-blue bed and then flipped the page. I was sightless and numb. It was the way I usually felt after he left. A kiss, as always, turned into so much more. He’d been a whole five minutes late to watch his game, but he hadn’t been too pissed about it. Jonathan was one of those people who assumed that if you were gay, you were automatically up for grabs. He had done a happy dance all the way to my bedroom when the counselor at the middle school had called to ask how I was adjusting after the fight and my announcement. It was sick to say that he was my longest running relationship.

  I flipped the page angrily. I was just a twink to him. I flipped it again, uncaring when the page ripped. I wanted to hit something. The urge to go in there and attempt to pound the shit out of him was so strong that my muscles trembled from the effort just to stay still. My mom too. It didn’t matter that she tried to act as a buffer between the two of us. She fucking failed at it. I counted backward from ten and blew a stray bit of brown hair out of my face. I slammed the history book closed. No way was I going to learn anything about civics and economics like this.

  I pulled on my clothes for the second time that evening, stuffed my feet into shoes, and stomped toward the door. I walked down the darkened hallway and out into the living room. The only light in there was the illumination from the small twenty-five-inch TV, which Jonathan had bought at a garage sale a couple years ago. The cable was hijacked from somewhere. I didn’t ask.

  Mom was awake and lying against Jonathan’s chest as she read a magazine my aunt had probably given her. She looked up and smiled at me. She was still pretty at forty-four. Jonathan didn’t even look up from the game.

  “I’m going out,” I announced, stuffing my hands into my pockets.

  She frowned. “But, honey, Jon said you’d only been home an hour. Where are you going?”

  I shrugged. “I think I’ll go downtown and hit up the drum circle. A few friends mentioned that they were going to be there.” I lied through my teeth, but she accepted it with a nod and went back to her magazine.

  “Don’t wake us up when you come in,” Jonathan contributed. I waved my hand and was out the door without a goodbye.

  Chapter Three

  I CHUGGED my third beer and tossed the can into the collection we’d made in the shell of the kiddie pool someone had left at the end of the cement porch on the side of the building. It was already mostly full, so I had contributed fairly little. I’d always been a lightweight, so I was slightly buzzed off the three beers I’d had.

  I was cozy in Juan’s lap as the music played on and everyone talked to one another in rapid-fire Spanish around me. I just liked listening t
o the cadence of their combined voices. I squirmed in my companion’s lap as my mind inevitably turned, as teenage minds were wont to do in moments of reprieve, to scandalous thoughts. It didn’t matter that I’d come already tonight. My body wanted to do it again. Juan squeezed my hips and kissed my ear.

  “What are you doing, little conejito?” he whispered as his father started yelling at Juan’s older brother in words I couldn’t understand.

  “Hopefully you in about thirty seconds,” I replied with a wink. The quickest way to forget Jonathan’s meaty hands was to wash it off with something new. Juan’s brown eyes widened, and he glanced over at his father to make sure that he hadn’t heard. While they accepted my presence well enough and even allowed Juan to give me a cuddle, they were strict Catholics who wouldn’t take kindly to me “converting” one of their own.

  “A quick one?” he asked. I nodded. I knew I had him. My hair fell into my eyes again. Man, I needed a haircut. “Where?”

  “We can walk to the convenience store,” I suggested, which was conveniently located next to a small patch of woods that would do nicely. I laughed at my word play. I was brilliant when I was drinking. I didn’t have to tell him twice. He interrupted his father with a couple short sentences, and his dad gave his nod of assent. The man was plastered, so I had expected as much.

  We stumbled off into the woods, and I moaned as he cupped me through my blue jeans. I fumbled with the button on his, and we had a good laugh trying to negotiate the zipper that got stuck in my boxers but thankfully did not catch the delicate flesh underneath, despite the lack of available space therein.

  We jerked each other off quickly, both of us in a hurry to get back to our evening plans. The edge that I had been dancing on since I’d left my apartment melted away as I found my release in Juan’s clumsy but eager hands. I wiped my own palm off on a fern, and he followed suit.

  “Coming back to drink with us, conejito?” he asked as I started to take a right instead of a left at the sidewalk.

  “Nah. I’m good. I think I’ll go to the drum circle,” I said after a moment’s pause. I was pleasantly buzzed, finally relaxed, and ready to go wander around the hippie-infested streets of downtown Asheville. It was a vibrant city, and I loved it a lot.

  “Alright. Be safe. I’ll see you later.” He left without a backward glance. Yeah, no “I love you”s from that guy. Juan knew the score. I tucked my hands into the pockets of my jeans and walked into the concrete jungle.

  WHEN I said I was a social glutton, I wasn’t kidding, and the drum circle that was put on every Friday night by the locals was like my heroin. There were always at least thirty to forty people there. During the summer, the park would be crammed full of people, hundreds of them, and they would all drink and trip and drum the night away.

  The rhythm always got into my blood, and it would never take long before my hips were swaying to the beat. I would inevitably find myself grinding and gyrating for the crowd. I loved it. I was an attention whore that way.

  Tonight was crowded for fall. The people were six thick to the drummers, and the circle they created was already filled with writhing bodies. Since I was too young to get into a club, this was my scene, though I could rarely convince one of my friends to come with me without imbibing serious amounts of alcohol first.

  I pushed my way through until I found a good spot, surrounded by people but not crushed by them. I tapped my fingers on my thigh to catch the rhythm the drummers were creating. I began to sway my hips, and then I was spinning in circles, dancing like the sun wouldn’t rise tomorrow. It was like I was some sort of ancient caveman, invoking the spirits of his gods to keep the sun at bay.

  I’d only been dancing about fifteen minutes, sweat just beginning to form on my skin, when a familiar voice called out, “Hey!” I looked up in time to see Danny Johnson, with a camera hanging from his neck like some tourist, pushing through the crowd. I stopped my movements and decided to meet him halfway. Don’t know why. It was probably the alcohol making me a little more free-spirited.

  “Hey, man.” I had to shout to be heard over the drummers, so I pointed to a tree growing out of the sidewalk just beyond the circle. He nodded in understanding and followed me over. It wasn’t until I turned back around that I realized he wasn’t alone. Two older men, one of them holding a laughing toddler on his shoulders, and another guy our age stood there. The other guy I knew all too well. Tommy freaking Johnson, Danny’s cousin, and the same guy who had blown me and who I had humiliated by forwarding a video of it to his mother. He was still as gorgeous as ever. Tall, same lanky build as Danny, blond hair, blue eyes. Christ. This meeting just got fucking awkward.

  “Uh, hi,” I said. Tommy paled but managed to muster up a glare from hell. If looks could kill, I would’ve been on the way to the morgue in a body bag. Danny seemed oblivious and smiled cheerfully.

  “I’m glad I saw you. You were really moving out there. I got some really great shots.” He grinned and held up his camera. The damn thing probably cost more than a month’s rent at my apartment.

  “You’re a photographer?” I asked. I was curious about him. Had been since I saw him in the bathroom earlier that day. Like I said, the guy was good-looking. It was hard not to notice. His tidbit of social awkwardness just seemed to add to the charm for me.

  He shrugged. “I like taking pictures. My dads bought my camera for me last Christmas.” He beamed and motioned to the two older men. “These are my dads, Charles and Mark.” I nodded my head in greeting, and they did the same. Affection filled Danny’s gray eyes as he reached up and tickled the squealing blond miniature on top of Mark’s shoulders. “This is my little brother, Christian.” I waved. “And this is my cousin, Tommy. Do you two know each other?” Well, wasn’t that a loaded question?

  “Sort of,” I said vaguely. Tommy’s lips thinned even further, and he half turned back toward the crowd.

  “I’m going to go dance, Uncle Mark,” he snarled, stalking off into the crowd. Well, it was nice to see that he’d missed me.

  Danny frowned. “That’s weird. He’s usually nicer than that.”

  I shrugged. “I provoke a lot of reactions.” Again, the vagueness of my answer didn’t seem to bother Danny in the least. We stared at each other for a solid twenty seconds, neither of us knowing what to say. “Do you want to dance or something?” I asked finally. He nodded eagerly and glanced at his parents.

  “Go ahead, Danny,” Charles said with a chuckle. Danny surprised me by grabbing my hand and pulling me back into the crowd.

  Man, that boy could dance. We swayed together, gyrating in a way that told everyone our teenage hormones were alive and kicking. I was surprised by the intimacy in the embrace. There was no way a straight boy would dance with me like this. Was there? He placed his warm hands firmly on my hips as he thrust against my jeans with every third boom of the drums. My head spun at the sensation. It felt primal, and I felt so alive in that moment. I felt like a king being seduced by some visiting dignitary or something.

  “You really like to dance, huh?” Danny asked in my ear as he spun me out and then back into him. I smiled and resumed my rhythmic swaying.

  “Yeah. I love coming here,” I said. Danny was really cute. Super cute. He was so cute he got put into the “I would love to date you” box. I could already see us arriving to lunch together, hand in hand, sitting with my friends. Kevin would talk about sports, and everyone else would swap gossip. He was new enough that, if he played his social cards right, he’d fit right into our circle with little difficulty once I introduced him as mine.

  Another ten minutes passed. “I’m getting thirsty. Do you want some water?” he asked in my ear.

  “Yeah, thanks,” I said back. He let go of my hips, and I felt his absence as I resumed my dance. The cadence had changed, and I was oddly disappointed by my lack of partner. Thirty seconds passed before those hands reclaimed their spot and his body came flush against mine. I chuckled. “That was quick. Did you rob the store or bully
your way up through the line to get ahead of everyone else?”

  “You need to stay away from my cousin, asshole.”

  Every muscle in my body tensed at the rumbled command in my ear. Fuck. This could not be happening. I forced myself to stay calm and continued to dance. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, Tommy dear,” I quipped, deliberately grinding my pert ass cheeks against his already semirigid member. I didn’t take it personally. It was just what our bodies did when we were that up close and personal with another human being. Hell, sometimes it didn’t even take a human being. Everyone else blamed it on hormones, so we did too.

  “The hell I don’t,” Tommy snarled. “You’re not ruining his life like you ruined mine.”

  I snorted and spun around so we were practically chest to chest, our crotches meshed, and we had to hold onto one another just to remain upright. “Oh please. ‘Ruined’ your life? Dramatic much?”

  Tommy surprised me by flinching. “I thought you’d understand.”

  The words were probably in a normal tone, but the drums were so loud I could barely hear them. I knew what he meant. He wasn’t talking about my snide comment. He was talking about the last conversation we’d had before we stopped speaking for one and a half years. I had two options. Option A said I could be sympathetic. I had hurt him. That much was easy for anyone to see. I’d been the only “out” guy he’d known, and he’d told me about his crush on me in confidence. Sending the video to his mom’s blog had been a dick move. Posting it on her blog for the whole world to see had been a gigantic dick move. So I could try and make amends. Option B said I could be the cold, heartless bastard everyone assured me time and time again that I was. Such a conundrum.

  “Yeah, well, sorry. I was not the fairy gay father.” I managed a downright evil grin and gave him a wink. “Though if you’re up for a round two, I’m sure I could muster up the magic.” I expected him to shove me away. I expected him to yell at me. I expected him to get disgusted and walk away. I did not expect him to kiss me. And I certainly did not expect to enjoy it.