We hadn’t spoken in… three years? Four? Not since the funeral for his aunt, and even that had been a grunt and a nod over the buffet table, nothing more.
The last time we’d really interacted, I was twenty. I’d come home from college to work for the summer and make some cash. I found him with bleached tips and an earring, looking like a walking stereotype straight out ofQueer Eye. And I’d been ruthless. I’d made his life hell for three months straight. I’d called him names that would probably get me fired from my job today. I’d knocked books out of his hands, shoved him into walls when the parents weren’t looking, made sure he knew exactly where he stood in the food chain for being a fag.
He was the sensitive, artistic, soft thing. I was masculine, a sharp edge to his ridiculousness.
But James… James was adoormat.
That was the thing about victims like him. They were used to taking it. James was “nice.” He was pathologically kind. He was the type of guy who rescued stray cats and apologized whenyoubumped intohim. He never stood up for himself, and he never told me no. And I was almost certain he was still that same scared little boy I remembered.
He wouldn’t turn me away. He didn’t have the spine for it.
I chewed on the inside of my cheek, tasting blood. It was a low move. I knew it was a low move. Calling the kid I used to torment because I’d burned every other bridge in my life? It was pathetic, and I hated being pathetic.
But the rain was hammering against the roof of the truck now, sounding like hail. The windows were fogging up. I had forty-three percent battery and nowhere else to turn. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
“It’s just for a few days,” I muttered to the empty cab. My voice sounded rough and defensive. “Just until I find a new place. Besides, I’m doing him a favor. He’s probably lonely in that apartment. I can’t imagine he has the guts to go out and meet people or make friends. He’s such a loser.”
I hit the call button before I could talk myself out of it.
It rang.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
“Hello?”
The voice was hesitant. Soft. It annoyed me instantly.
“James,” I said, pitching my voice low, trying to sound authoritative, like this was a normal Tuesday chat. “It’s Kent.”
A pause. A long, heavy silence where I could practically hear him blinking.
“Kent?” he said, like he was testing the word to see if it was a trap. “Is… is everything okay? Did something happen to Mom?”
“Stacey is fine,” I snapped, then reeled it in.Be nice. You need the couch.“Everyone’s fine. Look, I’m in the city. I’m between places right now. Lease issue.”
A lie. A stupid, obvious lie.
“Oh,” James said.
“I need a place to crash,” I said, cutting to the chase. “Just for a night or two. Maybe a week. Until I get my stuff sorted.”
Another silence. This one was different. It wasn’t confusion like I’d expected. It was hesitation. He was thinking about saying no. I felt a spike of anger in my chest, hot and irrational.Don’t you dare say no to me you little shit.
“I don’t know, Kent,” James said slowly. “My place is… it’s small. And I’m working on a deadline right now, and?—”
“I’m not asking for your bedroom or an entire suite at the Ritz, James. I just need a couch. Unless you’re too good for family now?”
I played the family card. It was cheap. It was dirty. It was guaranteed to work.
I heard him sigh, a soft exhale of resignation. “No. I’m not… no. It’s fine. You can stay with me.”
“Good,” I said, putting the truck in gear. “Text me the address. I’m ten minutes away.”
“Wait, Kent, I?—”
