String Boys, page 28
And neither of them was making any attempt to parent their daughter. They’d come see her, yes, hold her, coo over how big she was getting. They’d stay for dinner—which Linda cooked—and talk to the girls about religion and make sure Kelly knew he was still going to hell if he hadn’t renounced his homosexual ways. And then they’d leave without helping to clean up.
Chloe didn’t really know either of them. She’d rather talk to Seth on the phone, actually. In fact, Seth had taken to calling before her bedtime and playing children’s lullabies for her as she fell asleep.
When Matty held her on his lap, she frequently asked for “Set.”
Lily was the one who said, “Don’t mind her—it’s a cartoon character. It’s based on Egyptian mythology so, you know. Mummies. Egyptian gods. Sethmet, Osiris, Set—it’s fun.”
Kelly and Linda, who had been casually ignoring how she kept reaching for Kelly’s phone and saying, “Set! Set! Set!” had smiled and nodded, and Matty?
They weren’t sure whether he bought it or not.
Isela had stared at them with the simple gaze of a kitten and said that was nice, she’d have to watch it with her sometime. Lulu told her that Dora the Explorer was on instead, and conversation moved on.
But Matty—Matty looked at his daughter, puzzled, a sad little smile on his face, and Kelly actually felt a moment of sympathy for his brother.
This hadn’t been how they’d thought of having kids.
Kelly knew that when he and Seth talked about family, they talked about one like Kelly had—or even like Seth and his dad. They talked about laughter and warmth and knowing what your kid watched on television.
But as Matty held out his arms for Chloe to toddle into, he had the realization in his eyes—this wasn’t how he’d wanted his life to be.
Kelly could almost forgive him.
Almost.
One Friday night in early September, after Kelly and Linda had, with Craig’s help, dealt with back-to-school nights and soccer practices and, oh my God, the girls’ homework, Kelly threw his backpack over his shoulder, kissed his mom on the cheek, and shook Craig’s hand as he sat on the couch with Chloe in his lap and Agnes asleep against his shoulder. Craig had given Kelly a book to bring to Seth over the weekend—some science fiction thing that they both liked—and Kelly was glad to do it.
He hit the landing and rattled down the stairs, pulling in a sharp breath when he almost ran into Matty, leaning against the wall of the fourplex, finishing off a cigarette.
Well, they didn’t teach you how not to smoke in rehab. Kelly guessed it was a habit his brother was going to keep.
“Where you off to?” Matty asked, but not like he cared.
“Hanging with friends.” The lie came so easily. Not talking about Seth had become like breathing. Even in the apartment, they all talked about Kelly’s boyfriend, or about “how things were in San Francisco” or about “next time you guys go to Disneyland.” Unless Craig was there, the hunger to hear about his son written so plainly on his face that it made Kelly ache, they didn’t actually say his name.
“Friends in Egyptian mythology?” Matty asked snidely, grinding the butt out under his shoe.
“Sure. Osiris, Ra—you’d like them. They’re righteous dudes.”
Matty advanced, breathing nicotine right up into Kelly’s face. “You can’t expose my daughter to that psycho pervert, you know that, right?”
Kelly kept his eyes guileless. “But we can expose her to a guy who committed manslaughter, right?”
“It was driving while impaired!”
“That’s because of random fucking chance and a broken legal system. Go ahead, tell me why you’re better. I changed her diapers, remember? She had diaper rash that could burn through ointment. We had to take her to the doctor, remember? Tell me why you’re so much better than I am. Tell me why you got any right to judge.”
“Because I know things you don’t!” Matty snapped. “And you, wiggling your ass for him because we grew up together, like that makes any fucking difference—”
“Matty, at this point, anything you could tell me on this subject is a fucking lie.”
“He killed Castor Durant!” Matty said the words, but his eyes darted to the left, and Kelly sucked in a breath. “You knew?” And Kelly ignored the little bit of triumph in Matty’s voice to focus on that look.
“I thought I did,” Kelly said, blinking hard. “I thought… I thought I knew, and I was okay with that. Because he got the shit beat out of him, and it was self-defense.”
“It was murder!” Matty hissed, and Kelly shook his head.
“No. Because you’re lying. I’m not sure what about, but… but you’re lying. What are you lying about, Matty? What is it you know that you think I don’t?”
“Don’t let that psycho near my baby!” Matty snarled, breaking free and heading for the stairs.
“He’s in Italy,” Kelly lied. “You got no worries.”
“Talk about lying!” The contempt practically dripped through the concrete. “If he was in Italy, he’d take you with him!”
Kelly shook his head. “I can’t go,” he said, and for once, he didn’t try to hide it—the anger, the bitterness, the hurt. “Some motherfucker left his daughter on my mother’s doorstep and then killed her husband. Some motherfucker asks our mother for money twice a month when welfare can’t make ends meet. Some motherfucker comes here and eats all her good food every Sunday and makes us all pretend we’re happy to see him. I’m too busy helping Mom pay rent to go to Italy, and I’m sure you’re damned proud of that, so don’t even fucking bother to say it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got friends to see.”
He clattered across the parking lot then to Craig’s car, since Craig could drive his safer Toyota with the girls in it all weekend.
Once there, he stopped at a gas station before blowing through the night traffic to the Bay, his heart beating with righteous anger the whole time.
Fucker.
Motherfucker.
Thinking he knew something about Seth that Kelly didn’t.
Thinking he was going to shock Kelly about who killed Castor Durant.
Kelly knew.
Kelly had known since day one.
Two things going on at that crime scene.
But Matty had been lying when he said it, and now Kelly knew that. And he’d be wondering, fucking bothered by that until somebody broke and told.
But Seth acted like he couldn’t even hear the words, “What happened that night.” And Kelly—Kelly had tried to bottom a couple more times, and each time, Seth had calmed him down when it didn’t work, and talked about feeling helpless, being afraid, with so much passion, Kelly knew he’d been there.
Whatever had happened that night, Seth had almost died.
So as pissed as Kelly was, he was going to take something away from that meeting. Maybe—just maybe—Seth hadn’t killed Castor Durant. Maybe—just maybe—Matty knew who had.
Two things going on at that crime scene.
Fuck.
Kelly was going to have to be nicer to his brother, wasn’t he?
SETH AND Amara were playing chess when Kelly got there, and Kelly had a chance to sympathize with their friend, who never seemed to have a date on Friday nights.
“When are you going to get a boyfriend?” Kelly asked, barging in and throwing his stuff in its customary corner.
“How do you know I’m not gay?” she asked, without looking up. “I could be in need of a girlfriend. Check, Seth.”
“You like boys,” Seth said quietly. “You’re still in love with Vince. Checkmate.”
Amara looked up from the chess board to stare at him. “How in the fuck would you know that? Vince is at USC and—”
“And you’ve lost twenty pounds,” Seth said, grimacing sadly at her. “And I knew in the middle of our first year at Bridgford. Vince got a girlfriend, and you… well, for one thing you almost lost a challenge to Christopher Cramer, who was a shitty flute player and a total dog. You kept your seat, but only because you, I don’t know, started practicing in your sleep, like a nun. You never told him. Are you going to set up the board again?”
Amara wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Don’t you and Kelly want to stink the place up with loud and obnoxious boy sex?”
Kelly plopped next to her with a sigh. Actually, that had been on his agenda all the way down the fucking freeway. But Seth was looking at her with such compassion, and Kelly realized that right now, she needed both of them.
“We can do loud and obnoxious boy sex after we watch Paranormal Activity. Seth, tell me you’ve got snacks.”
Seth started to put away the chess pieces and smiled slightly. “Actually, Guthrie is coming with pizza. Don’t get mad. He’s fighting with his dad right now, and I guess I’m his gbf.”
“His what?” Seth could just do that, knock around slang like he’d been using it all his life.
“Gay best friend,” Amara said, helping put the chess pieces away. “Except, since we’re just dropping Bibles full of truth on people’s heads, I’d like to point out that Guthrie’s been in love with you since I met him in March, Seth. I don’t know how you don’t know that.”
Seth wrinkled his nose. “That’s highly unlikely. I told him in December I had a boyfriend. Smart man’s money is to go crush on someone else.”
Together, using the same weird synchronicity that they seemed to have developed while at Bridgford, Seth and Amara moved about the dorm, setting chairs up to surround the end table where they put the computer so they could all watch the movie.
But they didn’t stop talking about each other’s love lives, and Kelly had to admit, even the idea that Guthrie was in love with Seth—and Kelly thought it was obvious—was less uncomfortable than his conversation with Matty.
It was like his lie to Matty really was the truth. He was hanging with friends.
Such a small thing on a Friday night.
Too bad Kelly had to drive two hours to do it.
Guthrie arrived with pizza, and because Amara had said something, Kelly was looking carefully at his face.
Oh yeah.
He smiled at Kelly, was polite, warm and friendly even.
That’s what made it love. His eyes were sad. Not angry or resentful or secretly hoping Kelly got an incurable disease.
They were sad, like he knew Kelly was better for Seth and Kelly was what Seth wanted, but it hurt him because he wanted to be that person.
Of course, that didn’t stop Kelly from draping himself shamelessly over Seth’s body as they watched the movie.
When the movie ended and the pizza was mostly eaten, Seth hugged Amara and sent her to her dorm and then told Guthrie to text him when he got home. Everybody left, the party in Seth’s dorm room was over, and it was just the two of them.
Well, first there was sex.
Kelly had needed Seth’s body all week. He’d started to dream about things—about the way his hip bones stood out and the super-pale shade of brown on his abdomen, below his belt line, or the almost purple color his cock turned when he was just about to nut.
They’d gotten good at sex in the past months since Seth had gotten his own room, and Kelly had him naked, on his hands and knees and begging, within five minutes of Guthrie’s awkward goodbye.
He wanted to fuck all thoughts of the pretty white country boy with the blond ponytail right out of Seth’s head—and to shoot all his worries about what his stupid asshole brother was up to out his balls. Sweat dripped into his eyes and his hips bounced off Seth’s backside with a resounding thwack while Seth gasped beneath him. He clenched at Seth’s waist convulsively, his fingers biting into the soft flesh of his hip bones, his stomach, his thighs.
Seth gave a faint moan, and Kelly’s orgasm was just… just within fingertip’s reach. His hand moved on its own, cracking across Seth’s ass with a sound like a gunshot.
Seth convulsed, clamping tight around Kelly’s cock, and he fell facedown on the bed, twitching, probably shooting onto the sheets beneath him. Kelly fell with him, his face buried against Seth’s back, hips still rutting, trapped in the heaven of his rippling muscles, his slick entrance, the heat of his heart.
They were lying there, panting, when Seth shifted and moved his hand, rubbing the spot on his backside that Kelly had smacked.
“Ow….”
Kelly rolled to his side so quickly, he actually spattered come onto Seth’s thighs and examined the red mark he’d left on Seth’s ass.
The darkening red mark. The soon-to-be bruise that he’d left on Seth’s ass.
The oh my God, bruise! that he’d left on his kind, patient lover who had spent a year of his childhood walking on eggshells in fear of being hit.
Kelly buried his face against Seth’s arm. “Oh God. Oh God. I’m so sorry.”
“Little rough, Kel.”
As rebukes went, it was pretty gentle, but Kelly wasn’t being nearly so kind. “I didn’t mean to—oh God, Seth. I’m so sorry. That was too hard. I’m so sorry. You’re so patient with me, and oh my God, I didn’t mean to. I thought it was… you know, sexy smacking, and I didn’t mean for it to be so hard. It just got out of hand.” Oh God. He sounded like an abuser. Probably like Seth’s dad, that terrible drinking year that Craig couldn’t seem to let go of.
Now Kelly knew why.
Kelly tried to roll out of bed. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I’ll go. I’ll just walk away. You don’t need me or my baggage—fucking Guthrie could probably manage not to bruise your fucking ass, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Seth rolled to his side, wincing a little. That didn’t stop him from reaching up and grabbing Kelly’s hand. “What in the hell? No. You do not get to just fuck me and leave me. Get back in bed and cuddle, dammit. Jesus. It wasn’t intentional. I get it.”
Kelly allowed himself to be reluctantly cajoled back into bed, but once he got there, he pulled Seth up so his head was on Kelly’s chest and squeezed him so tight, it probably hurt to breathe.
Seth didn’t complain, just let it happen, and when Kelly finally relaxed his hold, he mumbled, “So, uh, anything you want to talk about?”
Kelly let out a strangled laugh. “Only everything. I’m so sorry, baby… I… God. I won’t do that again.”
“Just, you know. Control.” Seth shrugged. “I mean, it made me come. I must have thought it was sexy. It just… really stung afterward.” And he sounded so surprised, so befuddled and dear he was just so completely Kelly’s dreamy boy, that Kelly’s throat grew tight.
“I missed you,” he admitted. “Was a fuckin’ busy week. Matty was, like, lurking in the bushes as I left tonight. Saying shit, lying mostly, but saying shit. Some lady coughed up your picture this week—like, Isela’s dad and Castor Durant’s family have been stalking the neighborhood since that piece on TV. What’s it been, like almost four years later? All his gang buddies are either dead or in prison. They all fingered him as a predator, but no, he’s clean as God’s fingers.
“Anyway, after that thing on TV, some old lady admitted she saw you out—maybe that night. But maybe not that night, because she said it was the night of all the police at the gas station, which was my night in hell, not yours, and she lives by those apartments by that big vacant lot. Anyway, she could have seen you either one of those nights. She doesn’t remember which night, but she remembered the white curly hair and the brown skin and a white T-shirt falling off your neck, which is half the shit you own, so even if she was looking at some other blond-haired black kid, it’s not like the cops are going to be searching our neighborhood, which is too damned bad because you’re not the only one there who looks like that.”
He wasn’t. Kelly could think of two kids their age right at that moment who lived in their neighborhood that fit Seth’s description.
Seth grunted. “Shit. So much for coming home Thanksgiving.” He sighed. “But the good news is, we got the house in Monterey again, same two weeks, if you can get it off.”
Part of Kelly wanted to cry in relief, and the other part just wanted to cry because dammit, he was so… so not there for the bad shit. Was it just Kelly who knew how bad this could be?
“Seth, man, don’t you realize what this could mean?”
Seth turned his head. “It could mean I’m the first chair violinist in Folsom Prison. Do you think I don’t know that?”
Kelly had bruised his ass. He couldn’t even threaten violence, not even in jest or supreme frustration.
Dammit.
“But Seth, what are you going to—”
Seth’s look alone stopped him. “Well, if the police show up at my door, I’m going to answer their questions. They may believe me, they may not believe me. I may go to jail, I may not. If I do go to jail, I’ll get out, live my life, and hope my boyfriend waited for me. If I don’t, I’ll finish the trial and hope my boyfriend waited for me. Either way, I’ll be able to see you and your family and my dad and Chloe, which is something I can’t do right now. And I won’t have this shit hanging over my head anymore. Did I cover it?”
Kelly sagged into his double bed. “Yeah. Yeah, you covered it. You know, if you get busted, maybe we can hire a super-spiffy lawyer and you can get a book deal out of it.”
Seth half laughed. “Yeah. That’s my priority. Fame.” He sagged into the mattress, suddenly looking as tired as Kelly felt, and it hit Kelly, not for the first time, that Seth was carrying more than a full college load. His classes were performance classes, and in spite of Seth’s dreaminess—or maybe because of it—he spent more time in practice for a performance than Kelly knew he spent on homework for regular academic work.
“Sorry.” Seth yawned. “Had two performances at the Stomp this week—Fiddler and the Crabs is our name now, and I guess it’s caught on. Anyway, the quartet had a couple of gigs and a practice and….” He yawned again. “A gig tomorrow. I hope you don’t mind. You can hang out with Amara if you want. Guthrie can take me—”
“Guthrie?” Kelly’s palm still stung from that smack, and now he wanted to smack Guthrie’s blond surfer face. “Why’s he—” Oh yeah. There was no way in hell Kelly wasn’t going to that performance.
