Finding Gary (The Romanovsky Brothers Book 4) (20 page)

Gary’s eyes fell to his hands.  The courtroom couldn’t see them from behind the witness stand, and he was thankful because he was digging his fingers into his skin with such ferocity he damn near drew blood.

With a deep breath, he forced himself back to that night.

***

10 Years Earlier

Gary zigzagged his way through his family’s packed living room, re-adjusting his gray beanie cap every time a new person patted him on the head or cooed him like an infant.  The party his parents had insisted on hosting that evening was proving old people just as lame as he’d imagined.

“How old are you now, GarBear?  Heavens, you’re so tall!”

“Don’t call me GarBear,” Gary grumbled, shooting a halfhearted look of disdain at the burly old man he didn’t recognize, continuing through the living room.

A frail woman hobbled into his view, her sunburnt skin and wide blue eyes stunning him so much he stopped in his tracks, right in the middle of the screaming, laughing and dancing party.

“Is that little Gary Romanovsky?  You don’t even remember me do you?” she beamed.

“No.” He’d had the grace to act embarrassed when the first ten people had asked him that question.  He’d even taken the time to venture a few guesses, but now that he was deep in the throws of his parents’ lame party, he’d tossed all appearances to the sharks.  Of course he didn’t remember this old hag or any of the other people who’d jumped in front of him and blocked his path to the door.

“I’m your cousin, Red, baby!  Remember?  On a count of my red hair!” She bopped her hand atop her curly red hair and giggled before taking Gary’s arms and yanking him into an unexpected kiss, square on the lips.

Gary groaned from the pit of his stomach, feeling the residue of her too-red lipstick loitering on his lips long after she pulled back.

“You’ve gotten so tall, but you’re just skin and bone.  What on Earth is Bette feeding you?  Are you in basketball yet?”

Gary motioned to the door.  “I gotta go, cousin Red.  Sorry.  My friend’s waiting for me.”  Gary breezed past her, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.  He sighed in relief when the front door of the house came into view.  He could hear the doorbell ringing off the hook. 

Just when he was sure he was home free, a svelte black woman came breezing out of the guest bathroom and into the foyer, freezing in front of the door at the sight of him.

At a towering six feet, Gary was enormously tall for a fourteen-year-old and had grown used to looking down at people.  As he found himself eye to eye with the amazon of a woman before him, who was long and lean like him with an elegant grace that reminded him of his mother, he felt himself squaring his shoulders, swallowing hard.

“Gary Romanovsky,” the woman said, her buttery smooth voice crawling under his skin and relaxing him.  “You don’t remember me, do you?”

When all he did was gape at her, she cocked her head to the side, showing him her sculpted jaw and narrowed dark brown eyes.  Her full lips were painted with a gorgeous maroon lipstick, and when they lifted into an easy smile, Gary knew she wasn’t going to leave the residue all over his face like the other women had.  No, she was… different.  He wasn’t even annoyed that she’d asked him that question for the millionth time.

“No… sorry, I don’t remember.”  He blushed.

She smacked her lips.  “Don’t be sorry.   The last time I saw you, you were this big…” She bent down and let her hand linger about a foot up from the floor.  “You’re the same age as my baby, Zoey.  You two haven’t seen each other since you were 12 months old.”  She offered him her hand.  “I’m Pansy.  My husband is good friends with your father.  They grew up in the same foster home.”

The corner of Gary’s mouth lifted.  “Oh, yeah,” he said, a mortifying heat burning his cheeks.  He lowered his eyes when it grew more intense under the warmth of her handshake.  “My dad talks about Marcus all the time.  He calls him his brother.”

“Marcus is the same way.  He was so hurt when his job moved us to Philly,” Pansy said, releasing his hand.  “It’s been so long since we’ve all seen each other, but we’re making a vow to change that today.”  She cocked her hip out and smacked her lips again; her smile blooming to show perfect teeth.  “If you’re not just Tony’s spitting image.  Those green eyes ain’t nothing but trouble, just like they weren’t nothing but trouble back when he was your age.  So handsome.”

Gary lowered his head, his chin nearly stabbing through his ribcage.

She giggled, brushing the tip of her knuckle along the edge of his jaw.  “You’re adorable.”

Gary sucked in a breath and willed himself to man up.  His eyes shot up.  “Maybe you and Zoey—”

But she was already gone. He looked over his shoulder just in time to see her plopping down on the living room couch between his uncharacteristically animated father and a dark skinned man who she gave a soft kiss. That must’ve been Marcus.  Gary watched his father, already dressed in his police uniform for his shift that night, roaring with laughter as Marcus said something, followed by his mother, who was facing them cross-legged on the coffee table. Gary couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his father laugh that hard, for that long. He yearned to know what Marcus had said that had made his father so happy, so he could keep it in his back pocket with the rest of the gems he’d gathered over the years.  Making his father laugh felt like Christmas Day every time he managed it.  Gary was sure it always would.

The doorbell rang again, followed by persistent bangs, and Gary was rocked back to the present.  He cursed under his breath and leaped for the door, throwing it open.

“Sorry man—” Gary’s eyes widened at the sight of Reggie King on the other side of the door. The porch light shone on his dark brown skin, along with the deep gash running through his top and bottom lip.  His left eye was swollen, and it appeared someone had gotten a golf ball under the skin at his temple.  “Fuck, Reggie, not again…”

Reggie tried to smile.  “It’s not as bad as it looks—”

“That fucking animal,” Gary spat.

“It was my fault.  He caught me with a…” Reggie hesitated for a long while, searching Gary’s eyes over the threshold.  “He caught me with a Playboy.  It’s my fault.”

“It’s your fault you like Playboy?  It’s your fault you like tits and ass?” Gary cried, pointing down the block where Reggie’s house sat, in the cul-de-sac, five houses down.  “No!  It’s his fault that he’s a fucking animal.”

“His campaign is in full swing.  We have to keep up appearances, even in our own house, you know?”

“No, I don’t know.  Fuck him and fuck his campaign.”  Gary bit his lip and forced his eyes shut, trying to find patience.  There was none.  When he reached out and took Reggie’s arm, he did it with the kind of force he wished he could use on the man who’d done this to him.

Reggie pulled back when Gary tried to bring him inside the house.  “Can we go around back?”

“No. Pop needs to see you. He needs to take pictures.”

“No more pictures.” Reggie reclaimed his arm and stepped away from the door.  “Please, Gary.”

“A month ago you said you were ready to start documenting this shit.  Now you’re saying no?”

Reggie crossed his arms tight, lowering his eyes.  “Can we please just go around back?  Please?”

Gary started, clutching the door, fighting to get his breathing under control.  He couldn’t get a handle on it.  Breath violent and shaky, Gary stepped out of the house and slammed the door closed.  Still brewing, he passed Reggie completely, knowing he would follow.  When he pounded down the steps of the porch and across the front yard, he heard Reggie’s shoes crunching in the grass behind him.

Jiggling a set of keys in his pocket, Gary stomped toward the white Cadillac parked on the side of the road, passing the large oak tree that had been growing outside the house for decades.  He took a look at the sign his father had stapled to it.

Vote Victor King

For a Better Tomorrow

If Gary thought all the uninvited smooches he’d endured that night had almost emptied his stomach, it was only because he’d yet to realize the nausea that sign inspired.  Making a disgusted sound, he wrapped his fingers around the sign and ripped it from the tree as he moved, never breaking his stride.  Faintly, through his pounding ears, he heard Reggie call his name.  He ignored it, shoving the sign into the trashcan at the end of the driveway before fingering the keys from his pocket.

“Fuck him, fuck his campaign, and fuck his sign, too.” Gary circled the white Cadillac and looked at Reggie over the hood.

“We’re taking the car now?” Reggie asked.  “I thought you wanted to wait until the party was over?  Or at least until your Pops went to work?”

Gary unlocked the door, nostrils flared, breath still coming too hard and fast to keep up with.  “Get in the car,” was all he could say, before climbing into the driver’s seat and slamming the door closed. 

***

Too upset to take the car racing as they’d planned, Gary had instead parked the Cadillac at the edge of the cliff at Cedar’s Point.  Hours went by—as they often did with his best friend—as well as several joints, and Gary still couldn’t relax.

Squinting through the dirty windshield at the Manhattan skyline that blinked from miles away, he pulled the joint taunt between his lips, green eyes blinking slowly closed as the smoke filled his lungs.  He breathed in until he couldn’t go any deeper, pulling it from his mouth with his thumb and forefinger.  As the white smoke billowed from his nostrils, he couldn’t help a lazy grin, moving his eyes to the passenger’s seat.

Leaning his elbow outside the open window, his head cradled in his hand; Reggie watched Gary with a quiet smirk of his own.  Their eyes danced across the car, brown on green, and he chuckled when Gary offered him the joint.  Reggie’s eyes went to the windshield too, staring ahead, running the beds of his fingers over his full lips.  After a moment, he snuck another look at Gary from the corner of his eyes.  Upon seeing those green eyes still locked on him, Reggie’s smile widened, and he looked away once more.

“Yo.” Gary nudged him with the back of his weed clad hand.  “Let’s go.  Don’t waste it.”

Reggie snatched it from him.

They shared a laugh.

“You’re corny as hell; you know that?” Reggie asked, bringing it to his lips, sucking.

Gary’s eyes fell to his mouth.  Their chests rose at the same time.  They exhaled together as well, eyes meeting as Reggie blew the smoke from his lungs.

He cut a look at Gary and held his gaze.  The wind outside shifted, making the car rock.

“You think I can stay at your house tonight?” Reggie asked.

“‘Course.  You know Ma is about two seconds from hooking you up with your own room in the garage,” Gary laughed.  “Seriously, why do you keep asking me that?  You’re always welcome at our house; you know that…”

Reggie handed him the weed, unable to stop his eyes from falling.  “He called me worthless.”

Gary’s hand fell to his thigh before he could take another hit as if he’d lost all control of his limbs.  “Fuck him.  You’re the furthest fucking thing from worthless.  He’s the worthless one.  Shit, Reggie, you hear me?”

Reggie ran his palms over his jeans.  “I heard you…”

“He’s worthless.  You…” Gary didn’t finish, staring down at the joint still burning in his hand.  He felt so sick he didn’t even want it anymore.  “You’re my best friend.”

Reggie’s breathing picked up.  “Gary, I…”

Gary squinted at him, finally taking a drag.  “What?”

Reggie raised his eyes and shot Gary a look across the gearshift.  Something passed between them that made him look away.  “Nothing…”

“Tell me,” Gary demanded.  When Reggie continued avoiding his eyes, getting shifty in his seat, Gary adjusted his body to face him; frowning when the steering wheel cut into his thigh.  “You can tell me.  You know you can tell me anything.”

After another long moment, Reggie scoffed and looked Gary in the eye.  “I love you.”

Gary’s mouth fell open.

“I know you’re not really my family.  But you are…” He motioned across the gearshift.  “I really… really love you, Gary.”

Gary searched Reggie’s eyes, bud forgotten.  He sucked in a breath before reaching across the gearshift, grabbing Reggie’s t-shirt and yanking him forward.

He caught Reggie’s gasp in a gentle kiss.  The moment Gary tasted his bottom lip, a gasp of his own escaped, warming the sliver of air between their parted lips before he moved in for more.  Every taste left him famished, left his stomach tightening for more, so taut—even in the wake of sustenance—that Gary was sure he would never be satiated. 

Even when Reggie went stiff, Gary pushed forward, tapping Reggie’s top lip with his tongue before sucking it between his own.  The tremble of each gasp betrayed his rapidly beating heart, rising in fervency with each peck as he begged for a response with his lips, asked the tiniest question with the tip of his tongue, and knotted the hem of Reggie’s shirt in a fist.

Reggie parted his lips, just softly enough to brush Gary’s, and the ticklish sensation sent Gary over the console, unaware of the gearshift stabbing him in the gut as he spread his lips wide over Reggie’s, cupping his face as he pushed his tongue between his parted lips, moaning at his taste as he offered a sample of his own.