‘Really, Zeke?’ Charlie says, ignoring me. ‘You seriously think I’d send those? Fuck you, man.’
‘No, fuck YOU,’ I shout at Charlie, grabbing a slice of toast and whipping it at his face, pissed at him not even answering me.
‘THAT’S ENOUGH!’
The big bodybuilder at the head of the table is on his feet. His muscles are veiny and bulging under his white Gymroos stringer tank. He jabs his finger at me. ‘This is my house, and you’re a visitor, son,’ he barks. ‘Show some goddamn respect. Sit your ass down, or you’ll be out on your ass.’
I step forward. He’s sixty. I could take him.
But everyone at the table is looking at me with contempt, too. They all want me out.
‘Fine, I’ll go,’ I say. I point my finger at Charlie. ‘Cut it out and stop ruining my life.’
‘Kade, we can still get a beer this arvo to talk—’ Zeke says.
‘No,’ I say. ‘I don’t wanna talk. I’m out.’
I head to the front door, and leave.
22
MORTE DEL TOPO
ZEKE
‘What just happened?’ Ahmed asks.
‘Did I hear right?’ Rex asks. ‘Kade Hammersmith is a closet case?’
‘The biggest,’ Charlie says, before glaring at me again. ‘Zeke, I can’t believe you think I would out him.’
‘You admitted it!’ I blurt out.
‘I was winding him up,’ Charlie snaps. ‘He deserves a taste of his own medicine. Good on whoever’s sending those messages. Hope it teaches him to be a better person.’
‘He’s clearly not well in the head,’ I say. ‘He doesn’t deserve that.’
Curtis grabs his phone abruptly. ‘You mean I just had a distressed, closeted boy in my house and I shouted at him to leave?’ he says. ‘Shit.’
‘Babe, for God’s sake, you can’t save every single one of them!’ Ahmed snaps. ‘We’ve been through the wringer this week. Let’s just take care of each other, rather than trying to solve everyone else’s problems.’
Curtis fobs him off, already moving for the door. ‘I have to try – I might’ve done real damage …’
Ahmed rises to his feet, knocking over his cup in the process. Hot green tea spills all over the toast. ‘And what, you’ll invite him to live in the kennel with the rest of your rescue dogs?’ he cries, apparently not caring that we can all hear him. Curtis freezes inthe doorway. ‘First Rex, then Charlie, then Zeke – now you want a fourth?’ Ahmed says. ‘Nice young hot muscular footy boy. You gonna fuck him, too?’
Rex stands up abruptly. ‘Uh, I might get going to the gym,’ he mutters.
‘Oh, sure, where you first met my husband and felt him up in the showers,’ Ahmed cries. ‘Oh yeah, I know, Rex. And I know about you, Charlie. And what about you?’ He turns to me, eyes wild. ‘Zeke, I assume you’ve had sex with my husband too?’
I’ve never seen Ahmed like this. I had no idea there was this seedy background to our living arrangements.
‘No, never,’ I say. ‘I swear.’
Curtis is in the doorway still. ‘I can’t let this kid get behind the wheel of his car distressed,’ he says firmly. ‘I can’t be the reason a boy like him suffers.’
‘Iam distressed!’ Ahmed shrieks back at him. ‘Me! Your husband! We have been attacked from every angle all week and I’m hurt and upset and I want you here, with me, in our house. How about you try giving a shit aboutmyfeelings, Curtis?’
Curtis hesitates. ‘I love you, baby. But you’ll be fine,’ he says. ‘He might not.’ He slides his thongs on and races out the door after Hammer.
