“I don’t have much. I have rent to pay,” I murmured. My hope was that by lowering my voice he would do the same. I’d read about that working when people were mad, but it never helped with him.
“You didn’t have to move out! I need you here.” He glared and guilt burned like acid in my gut. He had no idea how I’d struggled with the decision to go. What had decided me had been the fact that I couldn’t get a full night’s sleep more than once a week, and I’d been starting to feel sick all the time. Now I was better. I had the energy to go out and take walks around the city. Playing video games was fun again. For a long while I was numb andnothinghad made me happy.Nothinghad made me feel, no matter what I did to myself.
How could I say he’d made me depressed without making him even madder than he always was? “I’m an adult. I needed some space.”
“You mean you wanted to be able to jerk off in peace.” He cracked his cane down again, as if that proved some point.
Embarrassment had me angrier than usual. “Maybe I wanted to be able to have someone over.” God, I couldn’t imagine a man I wanted to like me seeing how Dad treated me. Half of me was afraid anyone who witnessed this would agree I must deserve it, and even knowing that wasn’t likely to be true didn’t make the fear any less.
“You couldn’t do that here?” Dad smelled blood in the water because he turned his head whip fast in my direction. “Are you saying there is something to be ashamed of about this house? If you were doing your job, you’d be able to bring a girl over.”
Funny how cleaning up all his bullshit messes fell at my feet. It took everything in me not to come out to him again, right then and there, simply to watch him get pissed off. It wasn’t worth it. The last time I’d told him I liked dick, he’d been drinking, which was the norm, and he hadn’t remembered. He’d screamed at me about how real men didn’t take it in the ass. The time before that when I’d said something about being attracted to men, I’d thought he was with it mentally, but he’d seemed to have gone temporarily deaf. I didn’t know if he was drunk then, high on his pain meds, or he’d purposefully “forgotten.” I never really knew when he was fucking with me.
My gut swooped when his face twisted like he was gearing up for another fight. “No, Dad, that’s not….”
“That’s the trouble with you, Angel. Fucking stupid name, Angel. I never should have let your mother name you that. You don’t have the balls to do anything worth doing.”
“I moved out, didn’t I?” The words were flying loudly free of my mouth before I had time to talk myself out of it. My skin prickled with the heat of his personal attack. I stomped toward him and stood just out of reach. “I’m gone. I never have to come back. Maybe you should be nice.”
Dad’s cane snapped toward me, and I took it across the left arm and swore as he caught my wrist—he’d broken it doing nearly the same thing the summer I turned seventeen. The pain stole my breath and whited out my vision for a second. He went to swing again, and I blocked the blow with my hand, but took it directly across the knuckles. Teeth bared in fury, I used both hands to snatch at the cane until I had it in my grip and then threw my weight backward to tug it away. Dad dragged me back toward him with a burst of strength, and as a game ender, I threw my weight into it and leaned backward. He let go, and I stumbled a few steps, nearly falling over the arm of the couch. I flung the stupid cane away. My wrist hurt badly, and I sucked a breath through my teeth until it whistled.
“You’re my son and you’ll fucking do as I say. You’re coming back here.”
Laughing, I shook my head and scrambled across the room until I was well away from him. “You know what?” I said, feeling like the worst slimy thing hidden under a rock, but I couldn’t stop myself from speaking if I’d wanted to, and I sure as fuck didn’t. “I’m glad your back’s getting fucking worse. I can’t wait until you’re stuck in a bed and can’t move. Then you won’t be able to hurt anyone anymore.”
“Get the fuck out of my house!” Dad bellowed and pointed at the front door.
Everything inside me froze, and I felt terrible as tears began to gather in my eyes. “Oh, fuck. Dad, I didn’t mean that.” My wrist still ached, though, and I favored it, cradling it against my chest. I couldn’t quite bring myself to say I was sorry. It had all been true, but I didn’t need to shove it in his face.
“I did mean it.” He pounded the arms of his chair. “Get out.” He began to roll toward me, and even though it was stupid to be afraid of him, or at least I felt silly when he had to chase me to actually catch me to hurt me, my heart hammered as I ran away out the front door. I didn’t stop until I reached the nearest bus stop and pulled my phone out of my pocket. It might be insane, but after all that I wanted to see the one person who’d ever made me feel better after making me scared—Casey.
This was psycho, but I couldn’t forget the wave of pleasure that had tingled through my body when I’d realized he wasn’t at my door to hurt me more, but to try to make things better. The apology was such a fucking phenomenon that it had nearly knocked my feet out from under me.
I needed something to make me feel better tonight. After all, I’d have to go back and do the whole Dad debacle again in a couple of days, and to top it all off it was sounding like I’d have to spend my money to buy Dad’s groceries, and anything else he needed, this month. He’d never fucking tell me where his money went. I was afraid to find out. I ran a hand over my face and stood there that way, halfway to panicking with my tongue piercing tapping against the back of my teeth, until the dirty silver city bus came to a standstill in front of me.
I was grateful for the warmth and sanity of something normal as the doors opened and I climbed aboard. The air inside had a recycled, damp-people funk, but that was usual during the winter, and the old man who drove gave me a craggy smile.
“How many transfers ’til the Yacht Club?” I asked.
The old driver laughed, probably thought I was joking. Talk about a confidence killer. “Oh,” he finally said and tipped his hat back on his head as he seemed to realize I was serious. “Two?”
“Thanks,” I whispered as I paid and then took a seat. I’d be early, but Ineededsomething good after what I’d just been through.
4
Casey
The baby-faced server stacked our drinks onto a tray he had set on the backlit blue-glass bar, which was the main flashy feature on the second floor of the New Gothenburg Yacht Club. Turquoise lighting radiated from under the bar top, and I’d once been told by the manager it was supposed to remind customers of Lake Ontario outside—even though it was usually gray, nothing close to the tropical hue. The rest of the seating area was kept dim in comparison, necessitating lamps at each cluster of seating that gave the cavernous room a cozy atmosphere. The server picked up the tray and started toward us, casually adjusting the black tie that topped his crisp white button-down as he went, in a surprising display of coordination.
I couldn’t stop staring at him because he reminded me a bit of Angel. He had a small beauty mark on his left cheek in almost the exact same spot as Angel did, and he wouldn’t make eye contact with me, Creed, or Merit as he handed out our glasses of scotch. When he passed off my drink, he finally gave me a vague smile. It was probably telling that even though I watched his bouncy ass sway away from us as he rushed back to the safety of the nearby bar, it was Angel who was firmly on my mind.
I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
Creed sighed and settled deeper into his leather armchair opposite me across the low coffee table. He had a short black beard that made his severe face even more stern, but he softened his hard look by wearing neon green glasses. Merit sat on the couch beside us. We frequently worked out, and we were competitive fucks, so we’d bulked up more than we might have if we’d exercised alone. All three of us sitting around together, even in our suits, were probably intimidating to the poor server.
Creed let out a longer, louder sigh, obviously trying to snag our attention.
“What’s wrong?” I asked on a laugh.
