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“Where the hell have you been?”
Dylan was mildly surprised to find Zoe sitting at the bottom of the stoop outside of the Donaldson abode. He had meandered his way back home just before 6:30 AM, Thursday morning. He’d had, what he thought, was a very good night. He and Tyler had stayed up into the wee hours, kissing and then fucking. In the afterglow, Tyler had popped in a DVD and they’d watched it naked in his bed, lightly touching, but not starting anything more. He’d fallen asleep at some point around three and woken with a start ten minutes before, cursing. He hadn’t intended to fall asleep, but the best laid plans and all that.
Per the question, he wasn’t quite sure how to answer. He hadn’t been drinking or even toking up. Tyler didn’t smoke, so he didn’t even smell like he’d snuck into a bar for a drink.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a walk,” he said carefully.
“Since before midnight last night?” She was doing an excellent job of keeping an even tone.
“It’s not important. I’m back and I was safe the entire time I was gone.” He started past her to go into the house.
Zoe’s face morphed in an indecipherable mix of emotion. “Safe? Why do I doubt that?”
“I’m in one piece, aren’t I?”
“I’m inclined to point out the gigantic hickey on your neck that would suggest otherwise.”
Shit, the bite! He’d never even thought about checking to see if it had left a mark. He’d honestly forgotten about it.
“Who?” She demanded. “And don’t even think about lying to me.”
Lie? He didn’t even know enough people to lie.
“Why does it matter?”
“My sixteen-year-old nephew is fooling around while in my house. I think I deserve to at least know where you were and who you were with.”
“It wasn’t in your house. It was in his.”
Her disgust passed quickly over her face.
“What? You think that I’d become magically straight? Fat chance.” He made his way into the house, just to be jerked back before he could make it past the foyer.
“Who? I want an answer, right now.”
“Why? So that you can drag his name around in the mud? No.”
“Dylan Montgomery,” her voice hardened, seething.
“Look, he’s just some guy I met at the grocery store the other day. He invited me to hang out. I knew you’d say no. I fell asleep watching a movie with him.”
“Uh huh, and the hickey?”
“We fooled around, so what? It’s my last vice.”
She shook her head. “No. No more. I don’t even care if you do, as you say, become magically straight. You’re sixteen. No sex.”
“How do you plan on stopping me?” Dylan pushed. “You gonna bar my windows and never let me leave the house?”
“If I have to,” she replied.
“Too. Fucking. Bad. My parents don’t give a shit about the sex as long as I’m safe and make regular clinic visits. Which I do, on both counts. You’re not my mother. You’re barely my Aunt, so quit trying to rule my life with your iron fist. It’s amazing your kids have as much free will as they do. They obviously didn’t get your social stigmas.”
“Your parents aren’t here. I’m the one making the decisions. I said no sex, and I mean it.”
“My parents never made that stipulation.”
“I don’t give a fuck what your parents said!” She shouted. Even Dylan, used to infuriating others, took a step back from her. “You don’t live with them anymore in their perfect fucking castle. You’re here, with us, and until they decide that you can go back. You’re going to live by my fucking rules.”
Dylan, ever jibe, clapped. “Wow three F-bomb’s, Auntie Z.”
She stilled, staring at him hard. “You were with the Norse boy, weren’t you?”
He paled involuntarily.
“That kid is bad news, not to mention far too old for you. I should call the cops and have him arrested.”
“For what? Totally consensual sex with–”
“A minor, consensual be damned. If I find out you’ve been hanging around with him I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” Dylan pushed as she trailed off.
“I will call the cops.”
“No, you won’t.” He pulled out his cellphone and selected a number from the contacts before putting the device on speaker.
“It’s six thirty in the morning. Who the hell are you calling?”
“My father, to put an end to this tyrannical BS you’re spewing.” Dylan knew that his Dad woke up at 4:30 every weekday morning, regardless, for a four-mile leisurely run through the estate. By now, he’d be back, showered, and sitting down to a cup of coffee in his robe.
Peter picked up on the fourth ring. “Senator Montgomery. How can I help you?”
“Dad, it’s me.” Dylan rolled his eyes. His father was perfectly aware of who was on the other end.
“What’s up? How’s Tynan?”
“Slightly more tolerable. I met a boy.”
“A nice boy?”
“Yes, he is, but Herr Zoe is forbidding me from seeing him. Tell her she can’t stop me.”
“Did she say why?”
“No, no she did not.” Dylan looked pointedly at Zoe. “Why, Zoe?”
“You know why.”
“Yeah, but I want you to tell my father why I can’t see a boy under your regime of terror.”
“Because homosexuality is an abomination. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“It’s what you believe, isn’t it?”
“Dylan, calm down,” Peter’s voice broke between them. “Zoe, we’re all entitled to our own opinions and beliefs. We didn’t send you Dylan because he’s gay. We sent him because you were our last resort. Has he been using?”
“No,” she spat.
“Then we’re happy. He can see as many boys as he likes, per our previous agreement with him when we found out about all of this,” Peter sounded tired. “My son isn’t broken, Zoe. Don’t try to fix him.”
“I’m supposed to allow this to happen in my home, around my kids?” Zoe asked.
“Dylan, are you doing this at her house?”
“Like I’d bring a guy to a crucifixion,” Dylan scoffed.
“Are you saying things to Pete and Sarah that you shouldn’t?”
“Hell no. I’m staying as far away from as possible. I don’t want in on their brain washing.”
“Then what’s the problem here? Why are you ruining my breakfast?”
“I just want someone to talk sense into this crazy bitch.”
“Dylan!”
“Sorry Dad, but c’mon. It’s bad enough she’s making me go to Church twice a week and have a chaperone at all times. I said I’d clean up, but I’m not a friggin’ monk.”
“Zoe?” Peter’s voice was questioning, “Can we just agree to disagree here? I understand your apprehension. I’ve found that with Dylan, it’s best to just give him a little slack.”
“A little slack is what brought us all into this mess,” Zoe snapped. She then took a moment to calm. “What were, or are, the terms to your previous agreement with him, regarding this behavior?”
“That he uses condoms, always, clinic check-ups and testing every six weeks. He doesn’t go anywhere with anyone unless he texts the location to our one of our security personnel.”
“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard in my life. He’s sixteen for Christ’s sake! How can you trust him?”
“Zoe, my son isn’t an idiot. High strung and a bit of a troublemaker maybe, but he knows how to take care of himself.” Peter’s voice was patient. As much as Dylan hated to admit it, and would deny if ever asked, he liked that his parents trusted him to make his own decisions. For the most part, anyway. Deep down, he also knew it wasn’t his father who had sent him to Tynan to live among the bigots. His mother, for all of her enlightenment, was after all, her sister’s sister. She had been the one to lose her wit’s end first. Peter would have held on a little longer. If only he hadn’t been such a fuck-up in the first place, he could be at home in the castle. Maybe having breakfast together after their run.
Except, he didn’t run unless wholly necessary. A jog, maybe. Down the driveway. Not a loop around the estate.
“Do we have an agreement?” Peter asked. Dylan had zoned out, so he wasn’t sure to what he was agreeing. He gave a glance at Zoe. She looked pissed.
“Fine. Just the Norse boy, at his home. Never here, never around my children. I don’t want to see you with him.”
“Fine,” Dylan agreed, “but I want a church-free Wednesday.”
“No, you’re already getting too much.”
“Don’t press your luck, Dylan,” Peter suggested.
“You’re not going to convert me,” Dylan warned.
Zoe shrugged. “I don’t remind you about your damnation, you go to Church. I think that’s a fair compromise.”
“Good. Now Dylan, can I have a private word with you?”
“Sure.” Dylan turned off the speaker. He stepped past Zoe towards his bedroom. “What’s up, Dad?”
“Do you have to antagonize her?” Peter’s voice lost the diplomatic tone and took on an annoyed father one instead.
“Just out of curiosity,” Dylan ignored the question, turning the speaker back on so he could get changed while they talked, “who was your first choice to ship me off to?”
“I didn’t have a first choice. I suggested counseling and your mother rolled her eyes at me. My second choice was Uncle Brick.”
“In LA?”
“For two more weeks. Then he’s moving to Vegas, doing promotions for one of the casinos.”
“I can see why you wouldn’t want me there,” Dylan admitted, then segued. “You wanted to talk to me about something else?”
“I know it’s only been a few days, but how’s it going so far?”
“Fine, I guess.” Dylan shimmied into a black t-shirt and a pair of fresh boxers. It was too hot to even pretend to give a shit about appearance. “Aside from the Zoe Regime of Damnation.”
“Milt and the kids have been treating you okay though?”
“Yeah. Sarah’s a regular Fag Hag. Pete is surprisingly adaptive. Milton’s barely been home, much less said more than five words to me.”
“Good. And your progress?”
“Four days, bone dry.” Dylan sat down on the bed. “I’m pretty sure I could find it if I wanted to. Aside from Family Night Scrabble making me want to drink to black out, I haven’t had any close calls.”
“Good, I think.” He pictured his Dad rolling his eyes. “So, this boy...”
Dylan sighed. “He’s just a guy, Dad. I met him at the grocery store. We hooked up. Then we ran into each other again yesterday.”
“Ah. So, this isn’t a serious thing?”
“Ugh, no. Why would it be?”
“Oh, I don’t know. You’re sixteen. As your father, it would be nice to say that my son has a boyfriend. Not a long line of one-night stands.”
“Hey, not all of them are one nighters. Some of them are widely spaced two, or even three-night stands.”
“Dylan...”
“Look, I just don’t want that right now, okay?”
“I’m not trying to push you into a relationship if you don’t want one. Perhaps, as part of your sobriety, you should take a look at how you view sex?” Peter suggested. “Because yes, it’s fun and nearly everyone does it, but wouldn’t it be nice to have one steady someone rather than a line of long, ever changing series of some ones?”
“Thanks for the pep talk, Dad, but I think I’m going to crawl into bed now.”
“Fine, but Dylan?”
“Yes?” He groaned.
“I love you.”
Dylan was silent before softening. “Love you too, Dad. Don’t work too hard.”
“Never,” Peter laughed. “Have a good day, son.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.” The line disconnected. Dylan tossed his cell phone onto the side table and crawled under the covers. With the door closed and the curtains pulled shut, it was just dark enough. His last thoughts as he drifted off to sleep were of Tyler and what if his Dad had a point?
***
“So, how’d you manage to ditch Youth Group?”
It was a week later and Dylan had met Tyler in the church parking lot; detouring from Youth Group after the ASG meeting. The second meeting hadn’t been any less awkward from the first. There had been two more members that day. Miranda, who seemed to have had a narcotics addiction. Then Warren, who’s addiction hadn’t been entirely clear, though Dylan suspected it was food related.
“I told Pete that I wanted to be somewhere else and he shrugged at me.” Dylan stroked a hand up his bare chest. “If I get sunburned out here, I’m going to kick your ass.”
Tyler laughed. They’d parked his pickup in the same grove they’d hooked up in. Now, taking a look around, Dylan could see that it was pretty and serene. The grove was next to a small man-made pond teeming with wildlife. There was a nice breeze blowing in, the small of fresh cut grass and wild flowers drifting in towards them. If he wasn’t dead set against it, he might even admit that it was a little romantic.
“Don’t worry,” Tyler said, “you’re just bare-chested. Nothing important will get hurt.” The truck bed rocked gently as he leaned over, kissing Dylan’s neck. Despite himself, he smiled before shoving him away.
“The top of half of me may not be very important to you, but I’m rather fond of it myself,” Dylan retorted.
“Trust me, I’m pretty fond of it too.” Tyler shifted over top of him. His tongue lazily encircled one pink nipple.
Dylan groaned, then gave another hard shove on Tyler’s shoulders. “C’mon. It’s daylight. And we’re in public.”
“There’s no one around to see. Besides, you didn’t mind the first time.”
“It was mostly dark and raining.”
“I remember,” Tyler hummed. “It was fun.”
“It was,” Dylan agreed.
“I can’t do anything about the lack of rain, but I’ve got a stash of condoms and lube in the cab. We could fuck.”
“No way. I don’t sex it up before six P.M. or after three A.M.,” Dylan wrinkled his nose. “Besides, it’s hot.”
“But you get me so hard,” Tyler groaned, taking Dylan’s hand and leading it to his crotch. Dylan rubbed his fingers along the outline of the encased shaft.
“If I break my rules for you, it’s going to set bad precedence for the others.”
Tyler stilled from the trail he’d been licking up Dylan’s chest, “Others? Are you doing someone else?”
“Not at this particular moment in time.”
“Let’s make a deal,” Tyler straightened. “We don’t have sex with other people.”
“That sounds suspiciously like a relationship.”
“Do you like me or do you just like fucking me?”
“I like you. You’re a welcome escape from Herr Zoe.”
“Then just agree to this term.”
“I’m not looking for a boyfriend, Tyler.”
“I’m not asking you to be my boyfriend,” Tyler retorted. “I’m asking to be your primary booty call.”
“Who says you’re not?”
“You’re just being difficult, aren’t you?”
“I don’t care if you want to sleep with other guys. Why do you care if I want to?”
Tyler frowned. “I don’t know. I have this overwhelming urge to take care of you.”
“Well, get over it. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“You’re a pain in the ass,” Tyler chided.
“I just know what I want,” Dylan offered. “I don’t make promises I have no intention of keeping.”
“What if I told you that I needed that; commitment or else we’re done.”
Dylan didn’t give away any emotions. “I’d be disappointed, but if that’s your decision, I understand.”
“Infuriating,” Tyler shifted forward, pressing their lips together.
Dylan brushed his thumbs over Tyler’s scruffy cheeks. “I don’t think I’d make a very good boyfriend anyway.”
“Nonsense.”
“Is that what you want though? Tell me now before we get into something.”
“Eventually,” Tyler confirmed. “You’re not always going to feel this way, Dylan.”
“Says you.”
“I used to. I thought commitments were for breeders. I grew out of it. No one wants to be alone Dylan. When my sister gets married, I don’t want a big empty house to myself.”
“Get a dog.”
“Allergic, smart ass.”
Dylan sighed. “If I say we can fuck, can we stop talking about this? I find this conversation exasperating.”
“Stop hiding in sex,” Tyler warned. “It’s going to get you into trouble. Not all disagreements can be buried with the promise of your come-covered mug.” He flicked the end of Dylan’s nose.
“You’re in full Mother Hen mode today, aren’t you?”
“Only you bring out these feelings.”
“Funny. We’ve only seen each other a hand full of times.”
“What can I say? Orphans make attachments quickly.”
“You definitely need a dog. There are hypoallergenic ones now, you know. Maybe a labradoodle.”
“Fuck you.” Tyler twisted a nipple. Dylan squeaked and lashed out half-heartedly with an open palm.
“Shit! That hurt you jerk!”
“You better let me kiss it better.” Tyler started to lean forward. His tongue had just flicked the tip when Dylan’s phone emitted a harsh strain of electronica.
“Damn.” Dylan lifted his hips to dig into his pocket. He rolled his eyes at the screen before answering. “Yeah?”
“Who is it?” Tyler mouthed.
“Pete,” he mouthed back. Tyler hummed, going heartily back to his task. Dylan ran his hands over his partner’s hair. His fingers twisted in the locks at the back while he listened to his cousin talk.
“Just tell her that Tyler picked me up,” Dylan spoke. “It’s her stupid rule. I’m under no obligation here.” Another pause. “Christ, Pete, you’re not my keeper. You should have said something earlier if you didn’t want me to leave.” He tilted the phone so he could let out a deep sigh without alerting his cousin. “Peter Donaldson, would you relax? ...No, I’m not fucking.”
“Yet,” Tyler said loudly.
“You shut up.” Dylan thumped the top of his head with his knuckles.
“Here.” Tyler took the phone away. “Pete? Yeah, hi. How are you?” He waited politely while Pete berated him in a very unchristian way. “I’m very sorry to hear that. Tell your lovely mother that Dylan is with me and I’ll drop him off this evening in time for supper.” He listened to some more harsh words. “Yes, I know. I really am quite the cad. However, if your Mother wants to have a chat, she can give us a call herself, okay? ...Correct. Now, Dyl and I were a bit busy, Pete. We’ll catch up some more later.” With that, he hung up and handed the phone back to Dylan.
“You’re awful.”
“I just know what I want.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Why does Zoe dislike you so much?”
Tyler hummed, “Ah, well. That’s a mood killer.” He shifted to sit back next to him and stare out across the pond. “The short version is that my sister and I refused help from the church after my parents died.”
“And the long version?”
“We did it very rudely.”
“All right.” Dylan let a perplexed look cross his face. “But that was almost eight years ago.”
“Most people have let it go. We were under duress, you know? But Auntie Z can hold a grudge. My being gay was icing on the cake for her.” His head lolled toward his partner. “Now, I get to ask you a question, right?”
“I suppose it’s fair.”
“You’re from this super rich, snob-fest family, so why do you live this way?”
“Live what way?”
“The constantly ripping and being so hard on yourself.”
“I don’t know. My grandparents died right before I was born. I was left an extremely large trust fund. I’ve always felt like, because I was born with all this money, I’ve had to do things on my own. I had to prove I’m not just my background or my bank account.”
“So, you act out and sleep around?”
“At first it was all rumor. I figured I might as well live up to my new reputation.”
“Is that what the goth wear is all about?”
“Helped to fit into the clubs I had the most fun in. Then, it just kind of became a habit.”
“So, you don’t usually dress like this? Or, you didn’t.”
Dylan smirked. “That’s four questions you’ve asked, Tyler Norse.”
“Just curious,” Tyler quipped.
“You want my entire life story? Pick up a couple back issues of the Journal,” Dylan suggested, “or Google me.”
“Just one more question,” Tyler requested.
“Fine, one.”
“Have you ever worn a school boy uniform?”
“Does that sort of thing turn you on?”
“Maybe.”
“Well, unfortunately for you, my former school uniform was not packed, so you’ll just have to keep dreaming about it.”
“Damn.”
***
Dylan jerked awake at the sound of his phone skittering across the bedside table. He had left Tyler’s a few hours before, sneaking in the propped open bay window. He groaned and reached for the phone, looking at the ID.
“Dad, what the hell?”
“Are you still in bed?” Peter didn’t sound amused.
“It’s summer vacation. I got in late. Early. I made a friend; I told you that. What do you want?” Dylan started to snuggle back down into his pillow with the phone propped against his face.
On the other end of the line, Peter took a deep breath.
“Your mother and I talked and we’d like you to come home next weekend. For a few days.”
“Come home?” Dylan sat up, holding the phone more securely.
“We recently ran into Stuart Leeman. He’d like talk to you.”
“Why?” Dylan’s smidge of excitement instantly deflated.
“He is the director of a very promising art program. It benefits underprivileged though the Carnegie School for the Gifted. He’d like to see you help out. He didn’t go over the complete logistics with me, but it sounded like a good opportunity for you.”
“So, he takes in kids who draw pictures of their Mom’s pimps and shithole neighborhoods. Then, gets them to believe that even though they don’t have the same opportunities as rich kids, such as myself, they can make a difference in our ugly world?”
“You know what, why don’t I call you back this afternoon?”
“No.” Dylan cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. Just tell me why I care about this guy?”
“He saw some of your work we had given to Dennis. He was impressed and wants to talk art with you.
“But why?” Dylan wrinkled his nose. “I’m not some shitty inner-city kid who can barely draw a line.”
“You have raw talent, Dylan,” Peter explained in his annoyingly calm tone. “Stuart wants to hone that. You can serve as an example of what troubled youth; advantaged though you are, can do when given the correct tools to express yourself.”
“You’re really not selling me on this, Dad.”
“Just get the stick out of your ass and come home next weekend to talk to a guy about your art. Bring your sketch book.”
“How do you even know I draw at all anymore?”
“The credit card bill from Art Supply every month.”
Dylan mentally slapped himself. He was such an idiot. “Well, I don’t know what I’m doing next weekend. Maybe I’m not available.”
“You are. I can’t promise another opportunity like this is going to arise, Dylan. Do you understand me? If this goes well, you could be home in September.”
“You promise?”
“If it goes well. If.”
Dylan blew out a deep breath and nodded to himself. “Can I bring a friend?”
“A friend?”
“Yes. I’ll need a ride anyway.”
“We’ll send David with the car on Saturday. You can stay until Monday,” Peter contemplated. “What do you know about this friend?”
“His name is Tyler. He’s in a band. He’s cute. What more do I need to know?”
“Is he, err, amiable?”
“Nah, he cusses like a sailor and likes telling strangers how big his dick is. Cripes, Dad. He’s a nice guy. I think you’ll like him.”
Peter hummed. “All right, as long as you’ll keep each other in check. Don’t make your mother and I regret offering this olive branch.”
“No problem, Dad. I swear, it’ll be great.”
“I already regret this.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
“Love you, Son. See you next weekend.”
***
“It’s a low-key weekend with your parents?” Tyler was sitting on the couch in Heath’s garage, plucking at an acoustic guitar and scribbling chords onto a piece of paper. His phone was tucked between his shoulder and ear. Heath and Jordan looked up from their own instruments. Jordan was re-stringing his bass and Heath was testing his new kick petal.
“You say that with such disgust; look I know it might be weird but it’s a free trip to the city. I need to prove to my parents that I’m on solid ground again.”
“I don’t know, Dyl. I mean, that just seems like an awkward situation waiting to happen. What if they hate me?”
“Tyler, it’ll be fine. You’ll be with me the whole time.”
“Well...” Tyler wrinkled his nose, “okay, I guess. But your folks are loaded, right? Does that mean we’re going to dress up for dinner and shit?”
“It’s possible that they have a nice dinner planned where a tie and blazer might be required. As luck would have it, I have a disposable income. I’d love to do some shopping. If you’re not busy, you could meet me in twenty minutes and we’ll go to the mall.”
“I’m in the middle of practice,” Tyler replied.
Dylan was quiet on the other end, letting the silence speak for him.
“Okay, fine, we’re just hanging out right now, but we’re about to get started.”
“An hour, tops. We’ll hit the basics. It’ll be fast.”
“That sounds like something my sister would say.”
“If it takes longer, you can take it out on me however you want. Though I may have a suggestion or two.”
Tyler contemplated briefly. “Yes, I think I can get on that wagon. You said twenty minutes?”
“If that’s enough time for you to pack up your guitar and get over here.”
“Fifteen,” Tyler promised. He disconnected the call and got up to tuck his phone away.
Heath narrowed his eyes slightly, “Jailbait calls and you leave in the middle of practice?”
“We’re not practicing, Heath. We’re just goofing off.” Tyler started to pack the guitar into its case. “I’ll be back later. We’ll jam, and everything will be right with the world.”
“Ty,” Jordan spoke up, “I say this because we love you. Getting mixed up with this kid is not a good idea.”
“Agree. It ranks up there with the time we mixed pot and cat nip,” Heath snorted.
“You’re being ridiculous. He’s nice.”
“He’s a nice, sixteen-year-old, who has a lot of shit in his baggage and notches on his bed post.” Heath stood, tucking his drumsticks into his back pocket.
“You barely know him,” Tyler scoffed, turning away from the closed case. “Stop taking this out of proportion.”
“We have some good stuff going on for us right now. We’re meeting with that label next week. We’ve got gigs lined up, opening for some good bands. We’re going places. I don’t want you to let this fling get in the way of that.”
“It won’t. I’m totally serious about the band; you know that. I always have been. Heath, you can’t be the only guy in life.”
Heath bit his lip. “That isn’t what this is about, Tyler.”
“Don’t get worked up. He is not my boyfriend. We hook up and we like spending time together.”
“Yeah, naked time,” Jordan retorted.
“What’s so wrong with that? You two are being a couple of prudes right now. Since when do you hate sex? You’ve done it. I know for a fact you both have. Just because you’re not getting any and I am doesn’t make me a bad person! Maybe you two should take a night off to go and have a little fun.”
“There are better ways to spend our time. Say, oh, making music.” Heath pulled his sticks back out and rapped them against his snare.
“I still spent plenty of time with you guys, focusing on the band,” Tyler rubbed the back of his neck. “I will be back later. We’ll even work on that new song.”
Heath shook his head, throwing the sticks past the drum set. “What the fuck ever, man. You do what you want.”
Tyler sighed. He knew there wasn’t any way to talk Heath down once he was pissed. And, honestly, he wasn’t sure what the problem was or what to say to fix it anyway. Instead of responding, he let himself out of the side door of the garage.
Dylan was waiting for him on the corner down from the Donaldson house, his hands tight around the strap of his black shoulder bag.
“Hey.” Tyler grinned in spite of the fresh argument with Heath, rattling around in his head.
“I was thinking, since we’re going to the mall anyway, and I’m trying to do this whole re-image thing, it might be a little longer than an hour.”
“It’s fine,” Tyler told him. “Just kiss me, okay?”
“That’s usually my line.” Dylan looked at him skeptically. He removed the bag and set it on the seat between them. “Is something wrong?”
“Everything is great,” Tyler assured him. “I just had a little spat with the guys.”
“About what?” Dylan asked, buckling in.
“Kiss me first,” Tyler requested.
Dylan rolled his eyes before leaning over to press his lips to Tyler’s. Tyler felt the knot in his chest loosen, just a little, and he relaxed.
“Tell me what happened. You listen to my shit. The least I can do is listen to yours.”
“They don’t think that me spending time with you is a good idea.”
“They don’t like me,” Dylan wasn’t surprised, but it still hurt.
“They don’t know you,” Tyler admonished. “I just... I like you, Dylan.”
“I like you too.” Dylan smiled, “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have asked you to come with me next weekend.”
Tyler smiled back briefly before he continued. “The thing is, the band is starting to get attention. We’re talking to a label next week. We’re opening for some bigger bands next month. We’re going to Wisconsin for a music festival. I mean, it’s all happening. The next six months or so are going to be critical to whether we make it.”
“Tyler, you guys are amazing. You’ll make it,” Dylan promised.
“Thanks,” he smirked, “but, first, let’s discuss this shopping trip. Did I detect a hint that you’re going to lose all the black?”
“I’m outgrowing it. Besides, it’s not a good idea for me to be around the scene. Plus, I’m going to get heat stroke if I keep wearing all of these black layers.”
“What are you thinking for your new wardrobe?”
“Nothing crazy,” Dylan told him. “Just some jeans, some basic t-shirts.”
“What should I be looking for?”
“I’m sure your nicest jeans and some standard shirts are fine. But if we go to dinner, do you have khakis and blazer?”
“I have very bad memories associated with khakis. And I don’t think the blazer I have fits anymore. I haven’t worn it since graduation.”
“Okay, so we’ll stay away from khaki, but something dressy. And we’ll find you a blazer. You can borrow one of my ties, if need be.”
“Is this going to be expensive?”
“Don’t worry about money,” Dylan insisted. “It’s my treat.”
“I don’t know if I like you buying me clothes. It feels very ‘kept’ to me.”
“It’s your call.” Dylan shrugged. “Oh, park by the food court. I’m going to need an Orange Julius.”
“Can do,” Tyler agreed, swinging the truck into the parking lot of the Mount Kiplinger Mall. He found a space near one of the side doors of the Food Court and they both got out of the truck.
“What time do we have to leave? I’ll need to gas up the truck before we go.”
“My Dad is sending a car,” Dylan told him.
“Fancy.”
“It’s not a limo or anything; just a standard sedan. And while David is quiet and discreet, he does report directly to my parents.”
“So, no hanky-panky on the way. Understood.”
They made their way from the truck into the shopping center. It was quiet for the middle of the week on a summer’s day. Dylan bee-lined for the Orange Julius and Dairy Queen while Tyler grabbed a bottle of coke from the vending machine.
“Let’s go see what we can find.” Dylan held out his hand when they reunited. Tyler hesitated for a moment before taking it. He allowed the teen to lead him out of the Food Court, toward their first destination.
Macy’s was a splash of red and white. The fragrance counter greeted them as they walked through the security sensors that separated the department store from the rest of the mall. As they approached the men’s department, Dylan dropped Tyler’s hand and started running fabrics between his fingers with his free hand.
“You look like you’re appraising something,” Tyler teased.
“I kind of am,” Dylan admitted. “My mother’s job is shopping; I mean, she serves on committees and does good deeds, but back in the day she was a buyer. She made me learn how to determine what makes a good product when she forced me to shop with her as a kid.”
“That’s kind of sweet. Bonding time with your Mom.”
Dylan screwed his face into a grimace. “Hardly. I hate shopping with her. I could never have something like Hanes underwear. It had to be like fuckin’ Calvin Klein and Ralph Lauren socks. You laugh, but I’m not joking. I don’t think I wore a shirt that cost less than eighty bucks until I was twelve and my allowances started.”
He stopped and gave Tyler an appreciative look. “You should try these on.” He set down the Orange Julius to pull a pair of heather-gray pants from the stack.
“Uh, these are a hundred and twenty-five dollars. I don’t think so.”
Dylan peered at him. “Who said you had to look at the price tag to try something on?”
“No way. I will look damn fine in them and they’re too expensive.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Dylan told him. “Try them on.”
“Can I help you gentlemen find anything?” A female voice sounded behind them. A girl in a khaki skirt and a red polo appeared, holding a stack of newly folded sweaters. She placed them on the shelf above the trousers they were looking at.
“He wants to try those on–and these,” Dylan pushed a pair of basic black slacks into Tyler’s arms. “I might find more.”
“Sure,” she nodded. “The fitting rooms are just this way.
Tyler sighed. “Hold my soda.” He handed over the bottle, which Dylan tucked into his elbow before going back to browsing and sucking down his own drink. Tyler was led away toward the men’s fitting rooms by the clerk.
“How’d they fit?” He asked when Tyler re-emerged, sans the pants.
“The gray was okay, but the black was too big.”
“Did you like them?”
“They were fine.
“Where are they?”
“I gave them back to the girl. I’m not paying a hundred bucks for a pair of pants.”
“Ty,” Dylan pressed a hand against his cheek, “I already told you I’d pay. You’re looking for stuff for a trip I invited you on. If I can’t buy an outfit for my fuck buddy, who can I shop for?”
“Fuck buddy? Isn’t that a bit crass?”
“You have used that exact phrase before. Do you have a new term you’d prefer for our relationship?”
“Oh, I don’t know. We’re sleeping together exclusively. We could just admit that we’re boyfriends.”
“You are not my boyfriend.”
“Is that because you can’t admit it that you have deeper feelings for me?.”
Dylan didn’t humor him by taking the bite. “Do you want the pants or not?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Then find something you do like and stop looking at price tags. I’m going to look at shirts.” Dylan walked away. Tyler sucked in a breath, looking over the array of trousers. He found a couple pair he liked, then found Dylan. He had picked up a couple of polo shirts, and was now looking a rack of blazers.
“Here.” Tyler handed him his selections. “I would greatly appreciate if you’d buy these for me.”
“You’re sure? It’s not going to hurt your pride if I buy you clothes?” Dylan asked, his tone snippy.
“I will pay you back. Eventually.”
“I already told you, Ty, I have more than enough.”
“I know you do, but I don’t. It’s important to me that I pay my own way when I can. I don’t want a friend who has to buy me.”
“Oh.” Realization seemed to dawn on Dylan. “I understand. I’m sorry.” He leaned up to press a kiss to Tyler’s lips. “I don’t want to buy you. I just want to do something nice for you. So, let me please?”
“Yeah, okay,” Tyler agreed.
Dylan turned away from him toward the shirts he’d been looking over. “Good. Since that’s settled, let’s talk shirts. You have a freakishly long torso. I need you to go try this shirt on,” he pulled down a deep purple shirt, “with this jacket.” He selected a simple black blazer.
“Freakishly long?”
“It’s sexy when you’re naked, but it must be a bitch to find shirts.”
“I’ve never noticed.” Tyler hesitated. “...Is it really freakish?”
“Maybe just unusual. Go try the shirt on.”
“Why aren’t you trying anything on?”
“I don’t need to.”
“Why?”
“Because I own enough clothing from every brand in this store to know what fits and what doesn’t. Plus, we have a personal tailor on staff. Did I not explain my mother’s shopping habit?”
“I think this is whole heartedly unfair,” Tyler bemoaned.
“If it makes you feel better, I’ll do a fashion show for you later. Or are you a fan of mall costume change montages?”
“You’re snarky when you shop.”
“I’m just having a hard time doing this without being a little smashed.”
“We don’t have to do this today,” Tyler reminded him. “We can do this any time.”
“I know, but we should just get it out of the way,” Dylan turned back. “Go, try on the shirts.”
“Come with. Tell me if they look good.”
“I already know they’ll look good. You could make a trash bag look couture.”
“I am pretty sure that was a compliment.”
“It was. Now do as I ask, please?”
“Fine,” he agreed. “Back in a minute.”
Dylan continued to browse for a bit before meeting Tyler as he came out of the dressing room.
“The blazer was kind of short. You’re right, I am grossly dis-proportioned.”
Dylan frowned, looking him up and down. “I wonder if it’s too late to have something made. Do you know any good custom clothing stores in town?”
“Those exist?”
“Yes,” Dylan responded slowly. “The shirt was good though?”
“Yes, and it looked damn good on me.”
“I’m sure it did. Purple makes your eyes sparkle.”
Tyler grinned. “Does it?”
Dylan nodded. “Do you want the shirt in another color or just the purple? You’d also look good in the burgundy or the blue.”
“Just this one. You don’t want to go overboard.”
“How are you on shoes?” Dylan ignored him.
“I’ve got a pair of Doc Martens I hardly ever wear.”
“We’ll come back to shoes.”
“Are we done here?”
“Yes, we’re done. I think we’ve got enough for any instance over the weekend. Why don’t we just look around after I pay for this?”
“Sounds good,” Tyler agreed.
“Great.” Dylan handed him back his soda. “Take this.”
They approached the register. Tyler attempted not to look phased by the huge amount of money that Dylan put onto a store credit card.
“Want me to carry that?” Tyler asked as they exited the store.
“Are you sure carrying a girl bag isn’t going to ruin your man cred?”
“Dude, I think you have more to worry about than I do,” Tyler teased.
The two of them spent the next couple hours meandering the store fronts of the mall. They became laden down with bags and spent more money than Tyler had ever seen at one time in his entire life. Dylan had, admittedly, gone overboard. And Tyler, still conscious of the price tags, tried not to wince every time Dylan handed over his bank card.
“I want to see you in some of this,” Tyler teased. “My house? Rachel can get over herself.”
“I don’t want to rock any boats,” Dylan retorted.
“We’ll hole up in my room. She won’t even notice we’re there.”
“We can, I guess,” Dylan finally agreed.
“Maybe she won’t even be home. She’s been spending a lot of time at Randall’s house.”
“Randall is her boyfriend, right?”
“Yeah. He’s okay. He works in accounting at her office so he can be kind of a stooge, but he’s a good guy. Good for her.”
“When do I get to meet her? I mean, we’ve been fooling around for almost a month now. Does she even know I exist?”
“Sort of,” Tyler answered. “We go days without seeing each other. I’m sure I’ve mentioned that I’ve been hanging out with you. Plus, if she doesn’t know by now, she would have figured it out the next time she ran into Auntie Z and got berated about my heathen ways.”
“She does have a tendency to do that, doesn’t she?”
“That is the understatement of the year,” Tyler snorted.
“So,” Dylan nudged into him, “what is it exactly that she doesn’t like? I mean, about you bringing boys home. Is she a homophobe like Z?”
“No,” Tyler objected. “In her defense, I don’t like it when she brings dudes home either. It’s like, this is our house. It’s where we live. She dated Randall for almost six months before he came over. She always went to him. That’s not an option for us.” He wrapped an arm around Dylan’s shoulders and pressed his lips to his temple.
“I will never complain about living at home ever again,” Dylan sighed. “Because, while security is extremely strict about knowing who I was bringing in. At least I got to bring them in.”
“And I’ll bet you picked up plenty of boys when you told them you’d fuck ’em in a castle.”
“Surprisingly most guys are happy doing it in their car, an alley, a bathroom...” He trailed off.
“You make me incredibly sad when you say that shit,” Tyler told him. He pulled his keys out of his pocket as they approached the truck. “Seriously, you are worth so much more than that.” He took the bags out of Dylan’s hand to toss them into the backseat. Then he wrapped his arms around Dylan’s shoulders, pressing their foreheads together. “Tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“Tell me that you’re worth more than letting guys fuck you in filthy places.”
“At the time I wasn’t. I was drunk and-or high, and it felt good.”
“Dyl, that isn’t how it works.”
“You’re making it hard to forget how much I would rather be drinking than having this conversation with you.”
“Brat.” Tyler pinched him in the side.
“Ow!”
“C’mon, get in. Let’s go back to my place.”
“Um, aren’t you forgetting about band practice? Your friends are going to be mad you ditched them.” Dylan reminded him.
“Oh, they’re pissed.” Tyler pulled his cellphone out of his pocket. “Yep, four voice messages and about fifteen texts ranging from a poorly misspelled ‘where are you’ to ‘you’re a fucking asshole, Tyler. We hate you.’.”
“Maybe we should go to Heath’s? Get your practice in?”
“You want to come hang out while we bitch at one another about chord progressions?”
“No, but I will. I don’t want you to mess up your dream because you went shopping with me.”
“Okay, fine. You want to stop at home and grab a sketch book?”
“Have one in my bag,” Dylan patted the shoulder bag. “I can entertain myself.”
“Okay,” Tyler shrugged. He took a minute to reply to his friends that they were on their way over. Then, he shoved his key into the ignition and they started the drive back to Heath’s garage.
When Tyler turned the truck into the drive way, Heath was standing in door, his arms crossed over his chest.
“You said an hour; it’s been four!” Heath started in berating him the minute before he was even out of the vehicle.
“I’m sorry,” Tyler admonished. “You know how it is. You start walking around and lose track of time.”
“No, I don’t know what that’s like. When I say I’m going to be gone an hour, I’m back in an hour.”
“I’m here now.”
“And you brought him with you. Like we’re going to get anything done?”
“If I’m in the way I can go,” Dylan offered.
“You’re not in the way,” Tyler assured him.
“Go home, Little Emo. The adults have shit to do,” Heath spat.
Dylan’s eyes widened slightly. He took a step back from the truck. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Heath’s arms dropped and he took his drumsticks out of his back pocket. “C’mon Tyler. Plug in and let’s get started.”
“Whoa–no way. Apologize,” Tyler demanded.
“Apologize?” Heath whacked the sticks against the door rail. “Are you fucking kidding me? Ever since you started hooking up with this kid, you’ve completely tossed the band aside.”
“This isn’t about the band. This about you being jealous,” Tyler retorted. “You absolutely hate that I found someone other than you to fuck around with.”
Dylan’s mouth fell open. “Wait, what?”
“You’ve made it perfectly clear that us isn’t going to happen,” Heath replied. “And I’m over it. But I want you to be serious about our future. You fuck around all you want. I’m not going anywhere. But I need you to be serious about DLT.”
“I am serious.”
“Then prove it by getting off your high horse, plugging into an amp, and starting off with Crater Avenue.” He turned away, and stalked off toward the drum set.
Tyler took a deep breath and turned to Dylan. “I’m sorry. He’s an asshole.”
“It’s fine. I’m gonna walk home. I am obviously not welcome here.”
“He’s just stressing because of the meeting with the label and the gigs we have coming up,” Tyler relayed. “Please, wait for me? It won’t be long.”
“No,” Dylan leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek, “stop by later to drop off my stuff. You need to spend some time with your friends.”
“Ugh, I hate this. I want to be with you,” Tyler grumbled.
“Band now, fuck buddy later,” Dylan reminded him. “Text me when you’re done.”
Tyler nodded. “I will, before I stop by with your stuff.”
Dylan swung his messenger bag over his shoulder and gave Tyler one more kiss before turning around and making the trek back to the Donaldson house. Tyler heaved out a big sigh. He scrubbed his palms across his face and through his hair before turning back toward the garage where Jordan was strumming out a chord and Heath was tapping out a beat on his drums. He shoved his hands into his back pockets, striding into the garage.
“What the fuck was that, Gibson?”
“What was what?” Heath looked up at him.
Tyler unclipped the fastenings on his guitar case, flipping it open. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Dylan has enough problems. You don’t have to be a bully.”
“You think I was a bully?”
“You called him Little Emo.”
“I could have called him a lot worse,” Heath retorted.
Tyler pulled out the guitar, pulling the strap over his head as he made his way over to his amp. “You won’t even give him a chance. He’s nice. He’s lonely. He hasn’t mentioned a single friend. The only people he knows here are his bullshit family.”
“It’s not fair to piss on the entire Donaldson family. Pete and Sarah aren’t bad,” Jordan cut in. “The mother? Eh.” He lifted and wavered his hand.
“That isn’t the point, Jordan,” Tyler plugged the amp into his guitar before flicking on the power.
“Your point is what’s bullshit. He’s sixteen. You’re lucky Zoe doesn’t have you sitting in county lock-up right now,” Heath argued. “You’re twenty fucking years old, Tyler. Grow up.”
“Would you be saying the same thing if he was eighteen? What’s three years difference?”
“It wasn’t that long ago for you. You can’t say you don’t remember the differences between being sixteen and eighteen.”
“Yeah. It was suddenly a lot easier to get a job and a loan to buy my truck.”
“I meant maturity level.”
Tyler laughed. “You can’t be serious. I’ve had to fast forward the growing up since I was thirteen.”
“Oh shit,” Heath rolled his eyes, “you’re not going to pull out that I’m an Orphan crutch again, are you?”
“The fuck, man!” Tyler exclaimed. “I don’t even know what to do with you.”
“Can we drop it and practice?” Jordan cut in again. “You’re making me feel like a third wheel over here.”
“Sorry,” the two chimed together.
“You always are,” Jordan retorted. “I’ve watched the two of you have this fight a dozen times. Heath, it’s not going to happen. You’ve got plenty of other options out there. Ty, you don’t have to be such a dick all the time. You know it bothers him.”
Heath’s face reddened. He twirled one of his drum sticks around his finger. “We’ll drop it then. Crater Avenue.” He rapped the stick downward. “One...one, two...one, two, three.”
Tyler’s pick strummed across the strings of his instrument. Jordan joined in after another few beats. The argument was dropped, but not at all forgotten.
Two hours later, Jordan had to excuse himself to get to work. That left Tyler and Heath alone in the garage. Tyler wiped down his guitar before putting it away in its case. Heath tucked his sticks into a can sitting on one of the shelf ledges before moving his kit back toward the wall.
“Are we going to argue some more?” Tyler finally asked.
“I don’t like fighting with you. It’s never fair. I always come off as petty.”
“And wrong.”
“Yeah, that too.” Heath stepped out from behind his kit and shoved his hands into his pockets. “You want to stay for dinner? Mom’s making that cheesy potato casserole you like.”
“I’ve got a bunch of Dylan’s stuff in the truck. I should go drop it off.”
“Right. Yeah. Okay.”
“Heath,” Tyler sighed, “you don’t know him. The couple times he’s come over here the last few weeks, you haven’t said two words to him. He’s smart. He’s funny.”
“I’m sure he is, but he’s a child, Ty.”
“He’s not though.”
“His birth certificate says otherwise.”
“I don’t know how to explain it to you.” Tyler gave up.
“I don’t need you to explain it,” Heath shook his head. “I just need you to be smart about it.”
“You know I would never knowingly do something that would hurt you or the band.”
“Do I?” Heath asked. “Ty, things have been off. Even before the kid. You’re going through the motions with us. You haven’t been writing. You haven’t been working. Rach can’t be happy about that.”
“I’m focusing. She understands. We’ve got it worked out.”
“Does she really? Or have you still not told her you got fired two months ago and have been living off your savings? It’s going to run out soon.”
“I got plenty in there.”
“Ty!”
“Heath, just trust me!”
Heath ran both hands through his curly locks. He huffed out a high sigh. “Fine. We won’t talk about money. We won’t talk about Dylan. The safe topics are getting fewer and fewer every time I see you.”
“Don’t.” Tyler crossed the garage toward him in a few steps. He squeezed Heath’s shoulders. “We don’t have to be like this.”
Heath seemed choked for a second before his own hands came up, swiping Tyler’s hands away. “Don’t touch me. Please.”
“You’re just stressed out because of the meeting coming up. And all those gigs.”
“I’m stressed out because I don’t know if I can do this with you anymore.”
Tyler stepped back, surprised.
“What?”
“It’s really hard to be around you when,” Heath’s head sank down to his chest, “fuck, man. I love you. You know that.”
“You know I love you too.”
“That’s the worst part, Tyler.” Heath looked up at him again. His jaw set and his eyes wet. “You know it’s not the same thing. We’re best friends. We’ve done a lot of stupid shit together. But the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever done was fall in love with you.”
“Heath.”
“I’m going in,” Heath shook his head. He started toward the door into the Gibson’s house. “Close the garage door on your way out, will you?”
“C’mon! Don’t walk away in the middle.”
“Why not?” He whipped back around. “It’s never going to go anywhere. We’re not experiencing the same relationship together. You like having sex with me. At first it was a good time. But it’s not all I want and it has got to stop. Every time you touch or kiss me, I know it’s just fun for you. It’s never been more.”
Tyler bowed his head, staring down at the toes of his canvas sneakers. “I don’t know what to say.”
“I don’t think there’s anything you can say, Tyler. Except, see you later.” Heath resumed moving for the door. “Maybe start looking for a new drummer.”
“You can’t quit the band. We’re shit without you.”
“I need some time.”
“Then take some time,” Tyler replied. “We haven’t taken a break for a while. We’ll practice like normal until the meeting next week. Then, we’ll take a few days off to relax.”
Heath paused, his hand on the door knob. “All right. Sure. I don’t think a couple of days is going to change anything.”
“We have other commitments besides that meeting. The gigs, the festival. Let’s get through that.”
“Sure, man,” Heath agreed. “Have fun with your new friend.”
The door squeaked as he pushed it open, slipping through into the entryway of the Gibson’s home. Tyler winced as he snapped the door loudly behind him. He blew out a breath and picked up his guitar case. The garage door chugged to life as he tapped the button and ducked out under it. What had started out as a perfectly fine day had turned into an epic shit hole.
He tucked the case into the passenger seat and pulled out his phone as he got behind the wheel.
“Hey, Rach. What are you doing tonight?” He asked after his sister picked up the phone.
“Uh, Randall and I are going to dinner. What’s up? Is something wrong? Do you need me to come home?”
“Slow down. I’m fine. I just, ah, wondered if you had a minute to talk about something?”
“Is this a face-to-face chat?”
“I, ah, I’ve been seeing someone.”
“Yeah?”
“Is it okay if I invite him over?”
“What? Of course.”
“You’re sure?”
“Look,” she sighed in his ear, “it’s your house too. You’re not a little kid anymore. Besides, if you think I honestly don’t know you’re doing it, you’re dense.”
“I know how awkward it can be to...”
“I don’t bring guys home because I know it freaked you out when we were younger. But we’re both adults now. I’m in a committed relationship. We should both feel comfortable bringing people home, bro.”
“Yeah, okay,” Tyler agreed. “Sorry. This was dumb.”
“You’re not dumb, Tyler.” He could just tell by her tone she was rolling her eyes. “You’ve got the house to yourself tonight. Enjoy. Be safe.”
“You too,” Tyler teased.
“Gross,” she sputtered, “I don’t need to hear that from my little brother!”
“Have fun with Randall. Tell him I said hello.”
“I will. See you tomorrow.”
“See you.”
Tyler waited for the line to go dead before lowering the phone from his ear. He swiped the screen and brought up his texts.
[YOU:] I’m about to leave Heath’s. Is it safe to stop by?
By the time he’d clipped his seatbelt into place and turned over the ignition, Dylan had replied.
[DYLAN:] Ds r gone 4 ice cream. Save me now
[YOU:] Be there soon.