Crossing Borders (29 page)

Randy chimed in, “Never going to get used to it, and I miss Viper the goth chick.”

“Me too,” sighed Devon. “She was going to show me a spell to make my enemies itch in uncomfortable places.”

“Devon,” said Julia sharply. “It's time to come to the table. Rock paper scissors Randy for grace.”

The boys played three times, each time ending in a draw. The fourth time Randy won. “Gotcha,” he said, waving his paper hand around. “Paper always wins in the end.”

“Like you actually wanted to say the prayer,” said Devon.

“Actually, I did,” said Randy, with a grin. When everyone was seated at the table, they joined hands.

“Dear Lord,” began Randy, who paused for long enough that Tristan sneaked an eye open to look at him. His saw his mother's cheek twitch with what he thought might be apprehension. “We are so grateful to be gathered here today with our family, and the family of our brother's homosexual boyfriend, and our new little goth friend who has a gay dad, whatever the heck
that
is all about. We'd like to say we're grateful this year for condoms, lube, and Ellen Degeneres, and for those guys on
Queer Eye
…”

“Randall Evan Phillips!” his mother shouted.

Michael and Tristan sat companionably on the roof of Tristan's house as they waited for Devon and Randy to plug in the Christmas lights they'd tacked into place. Tristan was pleased, because with the four of them working on it, they'd completed it in record time and had even added a little extra panache, thanks to Michael's creative use of the existing light fixtures and a couple of extra extension cords.

The sky was a rich auburn, puffy with ribbons of clouds that he thought looked like a painted backdrop in a film. Tristan was enjoying the silence between himself and Michael. He wanted to sit like this, completely content to watch the darkening sky paint different colors on his lover's light hair forever.

Dinner went well, once everyone realized that Randy and Devon were going to do everything they could to mess it up. Then, oddly enough, it became the Randy and Devon comedy show, and it was hard to say who laughed the most. They were merciless in their humor, and no one was exempt. Even Michael's vegetarian dish came under their scrutiny when Lily prodded it for the first time.

“What is this?” she asked, not too rudely, looking at Michael.

“It's a meat substitute.”

“Like tofurkey? I have a lot of friends who are eating tofurkey today.”

“Well, yes, but since we were already having turkey, I thought I'd try something with a tofu substitute for duck instead.”

“Oh,” said Lily. “It's actually very good.”

“Um, you know,” said Randy. “If tofu turkey is tofurkey, then this would be…”

“Tofuck,” said Devon. “Definitely.”

“Ah, yup,” said Randy. “This would definitely be tofuck.”

“Tofuck á l'orange,” said Emma, shamelessly. “Isn't that what it is? With the orange sauce?” She looked at Michael keenly.

“You people are heartless,” said Lily throwing her napkin on the table. She glared at her brothers. “Shame on you, you're like…barbarians. I'm getting myself some juice.”

“Oh, shoot,” sighed Emma after she'd gone. “I'm probably sorry.”

Michael laughed into his napkin. “I didn't go to a lot of trouble.”

“I should go talk to her,” said Julia, swirling another glass of chardonnay. “But to be honest, I can't seem to dredge up the sincerity.” She and Emma burst out laughing.

“Honey, we have to get you a motorcycle,” said Emma.

“If she gets one, I get one too,” said Randy.

“Me too. I'm not riding in anyone's bitch seat,” said Devon.

Tristan colored faintly. “That's hardly a nice thing to call…”

“Ha!” said Devon. “That's where
you
ride, isn't it?”

“What did I tell you?” said Randy. “You owe me five bucks.”

“Of course, he rides behind Michael,” said Devon. “Where do you expect him to ride; he doesn't have a motorcycle license. That doesn't make him Michael's bitch.”

“Devon!” his mother hissed. “You watch your language.”

“Sorry, Mom,” he said, with an exaggerated look of innocence that everyone at the table knew to be wary of. “But really, Michael, between you and Tristan, which one of you
is
the girl?”

“Jeez, what do they teach in school these days?” said Emma, disgusted. “Neither one of them is a girl, Devon, that's why it's called homosexuality, 'homo' from the Greek word meaning same.”

“Greek…” said Randy. “Figures.

“No, it's just a prefix,” said Julia. “It's like homophone and homogenize.”

“What's a homophone?” asked Randy.

“That's easy,” said Devon. “That's what Michael uses to call Tristan.”

“Are you finished?” asked Julia in a deadly voice. “Because I am.”

Lily entered the room at that exact moment with her eyes all red from crying. “So am I. I can't believe you're being so hateful. I, for one, will support Tristan in his new lifestyle, even if he is a total jerk.”

“I'm a what?” asked Tristan.

“I think it's romantic,” she said, mostly to Edward. “Cursed to live their lives in the shadows, to be together only under the cover of darkness…hiding their love from the sunlight.”

“They're gay, honey,” said Emma. “Not vampires.”

“Oh, but wouldn't it be cool if we were gay vampires?” said Michael, obviously enjoying himself more and more by the minute.

“Oh,” moaned Julia, almost accidentally. “Okay. I just had a Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise moment.”

“Yeah,” said Lily. “But better. There's definitely more chemistry right here at the dinner table than in that whole movie.”

“You got that right,” said Julia, her face washing red like her son's. “May I be struck dead for even thinking such a thought.”

“This is so freaking weird,” said Devon.

“But the food is good,” replied Randy. “Although I can't bring myself to eat anything called tofuck, can you?”

“Nope,” said Devon, looking at Michael. “No can do, buddy. Sorry.”

They both gazed contritely at Michael, who gave up and laughed.

“Okay, you
men
get to put up the Christmas lights, and then maybe”—said Julia, giving them the evil eye—“maybe I'll allow you to eat dessert.”

“Okay,” said Tristan, anxious to be out of there. “Michael?”

“Sure,” said Michael. “I'm going to put ours up tomorrow. You going to help me?” He gave Tristan a look that said,
You'd better
.

“Sure,” said Tristan.

Michael looked at Randy and Devon, then at Julia, and winked. “I don't suppose your mom lets you do this yet? Are they old enough to help out?”

“Of course we can. Right, Mom?” Devon gave her a pleading look. Julia looked like she wanted to high-five Michael.

“I guess…as long as you're careful,” she said.

“I will be,” said Devon. “Hey, Tristan, Mom said I could help.” He ran out the door, leaving Tristan and Randy staring after him.

“That idiot has no idea he's just been played.” Randy walked out after Devon.

Tristan met Michael's eyes and sighed. He went after his brothers, consciously delighted as he imagined Michael's hot gaze behind him, fastening on his ass.

Michael took Tristan's hand in his. “Thanks for today, Sparky. Your family is crazy.”

“Yeah, well, about that,” said Tristan, turning red even without the sun's setting glow. “I'm sorry. They're really just trying to adjust.”

“What are you sorry for? I've found kids living on the streets whose family just tossed them out like so much garbage for being gay. I'm delighted all I had to do was field a few probing questions over dinner. Although I don't expect we've seen the last of that.”

“Probably not,” agreed Tristan. “You're right, though, good-natured teasing is better than anger or silence.” The lights came on, and Tristan held his hand up for a high five. “Looks great; thanks for all your help.”

“My pleasure,” said Michael. “I'm sorry I have to work tonight. It's probably pretty quiet right now, but on my shift people will be starting to drive home with a little too much holiday cheer in them. Plus, I want to check the park, see if Mary's out tonight. It's going to get cold, even though it was warm today.”

“Who's Mary?”

“That's right, I haven't told you about my gang,” said Michael. “Mary is one of my homeless people. Sometimes she sleeps in the park. I try to talk them into going to the shelter when it's really cold. They can be…recalcitrant.”

“Why?” Tristan asked. “Doesn't it get cold in the park this time of year?”

“Some of my guys aren't rational anymore,” said Michael quietly. “They think they can take care of themselves, and they don't like people trying to tell them what to do. Sometimes they're off meds they should be taking.”

“But if it gets too cold, don't they stand a good chance of getting hypothermia?”

“Yes,” said Michael grimly. “So that's why I try to find them if they're in the park on a night like tonight. As soon as the sun goes down, the temperature goes down with it, and I just feel better when I get the chance to check things out.”