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Why? Was there more to my father and Danny Conner's relationship than anyone was willing to share?

“Danny was alone when it happened?” I asked.

“Yeah. I guess he went to the bathroom and did a line. Took too much or something.” She waved her hand through the air like the why or how of it was inconsequential. To her, it probably had been.

“Uh, how long?”

“For Danny? I think they pronounced him on the way. By the time we got to the hospital, it was over. He never regained consciousness. Doctors said it was a fatal dose. Even if we had found him sooner, I don't think there was anything they could've done for him.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Thanks. Like I said, I think it made it hard for all of us to be together after that. But"— she smiled at me, her eyes crinkling up again—"it's been a long time. I'd love to see your father again.” She plucked off another piece of muffin and waved it in the air. “What else can I do to help with this party of yours?”

I asked her a few more questions, and she chatted about my father's campus political career and a camping trip they all took for spring break one year.

When the last of her stories wound down, I said, “Thanks again for taking the time to help me.”

“You're welcome. Sorry I couldn't find that album. It had a lot of good pictures— oh, and all the newspaper stories. Damn, I wish I could find it. I kept every article your dad and Phil were ever in. Did I tell you Phil was captain of the track team? That book's gotta be in my attic. I'd never have thrown it out.”

“That's okay.”

She popped the last piece of muffin in her mouth. “Nonsense. Let me take another look when I get some time. I know it's there somewhere. Give me your address and I'll send you copies of anything I find.” She pulled out a datebook and jotted down the address I gave her. She asked the next question in the quietest voice she'd used yet, still writing as she spoke. “Is your father happy?”

Is he
? “I think so.”

“Good.”

When I stood to leave, she gave me a hug, clinging to me for a moment. “I'm glad I got to meet you.”

I glanced around the crowded shop and patted her shoulder.

She took a step back and smiled at me before she left in a flurry of movement, her purse, her hair, her arms whirling about as I watched her leave.

“Hey, something smells good,” I said as I stepped into the kitchen.

Matthew looked good too. He wore a ragged pair of jeans and a plain white T-shirt and moved to a tune from his iPod as he finished making dinner. He hadn't shaved, and the bit of dark stubble looked sexy on him. I couldn't wait to feel the scrape of facial hair all over my body.

“Hi, Luke.” He smiled and removed his headphones. He came to me as though he had nothing else he'd rather do.

It'd been a few weeks since the night in the basement when he topped Richard. We worked. We played. We got to know one another. Matthew and Richard talked more than I did, but I offered what I could, mostly about my work.

On the weekends, Richard would cook, or we'd order in to give Matthew a break in the kitchen. He kept reminding Matthew he didn't need to cook all the time, but it seemed to please Matthew. And he had a knack for it. I wasn't complaining.

He also spent a few hours each day doing laundry and all sorts of domestic chores. Richard tried to put a stop to it early on. He told Matthew not to touch any laundry but his own.

It didn't last long. My dirty clothes were cleaned, folded, and put away two days later.

Richard began another protest one night at dinner, but I gave him a stern look to let it go once I saw the crushed look on Matthew's face.

I still spent Saturdays at work, but I left earlier and earlier each weekend in order to get home to the best sex ever. Yet it was more than that. I was having the time of my life with them. The constant stress and panic were gone, the obsession over my father absent along with them.

We spent Saturdays being lazy, eating pizza, and watching movies like
The Terminator
,
Aliens
, and
The Matrix
, which Matthew called “the classics.” I was certain he hadn't seen a movie released before the ‘80s, forget anything in black and white. The night would always end in the basement. Sometimes I'd be tied up. Sometimes I wasn't.

And every day after work, I rushed to the kitchen, to Matthew's waiting arms and kisses, to the scents of the finest food I'd ever had.

“You like the smell?” Matthew asked. He covered my mouth in an eager kiss.

“Yeah, I'm hungry. What is it?”

He grabbed my hand and shoved it down the front of his jeans. He wasn't wearing underwear, and his cock was leaking like crazy. “It's me.”

I couldn't move. “Matthew.”

He buried his face in my neck and grabbed my ass. That snapped me out of it. I began a slow stroke, and his hips drove forward.

The front door opened and slammed shut. Keys jingled and scraped their way across a hard surface, then clanked as they fell. Richard charged past the kitchen doorway and kept going. His shoes smacked each step hard.

Matthew's hands tightened on me. “Something's wrong.”

“Will the food keep?”

“Yeah. I'll warm it later.”

We hurried up the stairs and found Richard in the shower, the bathroom filled with steam. I flipped on the overhead vent, and we undressed, neither of us saying a word. I opened the shower door. Richard was leaning against the ceramic tiles, his head tilted back, his body half under the water as if he hadn't had the energy to make it all the way in. The raised scar on his chest glowed, surrounded by heated, angry, red skin.

I reached in and wrapped my hand around his neck. His eyes opened at my touch.

“C'mere,” I said.

He groaned and moved forward. He crushed his mouth against mine. He didn't give me a chance to join him under the water. He stepped out of the shower, not letting go of me. His body shook. His hands dug into my hips and yanked me against him. His cock swelled and came to life as our tongues fought. Matthew's lips found his neck, and Richard groaned louder. I stepped back.

Richard's arms snaked around Matthew. He drove their bodies together with urgency. The big hands forced Matthew's hips to move faster. Their mouths opened wider. They drove their tongues deeper.

I fetched a condom from the medicine cabinet and settled on my knees next to them. I licked at Richard's hip and delighted in the taste of his skin. The position of my head must have given Matthew a clue. He shifted around behind Richard and sank to his knees.

I rolled the condom on Richard, licked his length, and swirled the tip of his cock. I felt him harden more. Not the way I felt him harden in my hand. In my mouth, every suck and flick caused a different reaction from him. I understood what he liked best when he was in my mouth. I loved sucking his dick. It was tough to take him in far, but the stretch of my mouth, the tight fit, and the way he pulsed as I scrubbed my tongue along the underside triggered a twitch in my ass and sent my own cock barreling toward desperate need.

I knew the moment Matthew's mouth met his ass. Richard's legs spread wider, and his begging transformed into whimpers. He rocked between us. “Oh God. I need this. Need you two. Your hands. Your mouths on me.”

His hands coiled through my hair. At first, he petted. Then he tugged me farther onto him. I relaxed my throat and took him in. My hands seized his hips and encouraged his thrusts until he came.

“Thank you. Oh God. Thank you.”

His dick slipped from my mouth, and I helped him with the rubber. His shaking legs buckled. He collapsed and landed on his hands and knees.

“Fuck me, kid?” The words were a croak instead of his usual strong voice.

Matthew's eyes shot open wide. His hand stilled on his own prick. “Uh, yeah.”

Richard spent the next few minutes on his hands and knees with Matthew pumping into him. Richard's hand sped over his dick as soon as it was erect again.

I put off touching myself as long as I could.

“Luke, c'mere,” Matthew said. “Stand over Richard.”

He always did have the best ideas. I got a rubber on and straddled Richard's back. I held my cock to Matthew's mouth and brushed it across his bottom lip. He opened and took me in. No matter what else he was doing, no one gave head the way he did.

The small room filled with moans, mine and Richard's, sounding loud for two men. I didn't last long, and Matthew came soon after me. Richard's hand flew faster over his own cock. He hollered, and his cum splashed onto the floor.

He fell forward. “Shit. These tiles hurt my knees.” His sated, giddy laughter had Matthew and me laughing with him. He rolled over and lay on his back, a forearm draped over his eyes, a loose grin on his lips.

Matthew sat on the edge of the tub. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Don't,” I said. “He's smiling now.”

“Thanks, kid,” Richard said. “Just get tired of people and their opinions of me and how I live my life.” He sat up. “There's something I'd like to ask you both. Why don't we talk over dinner? It may not be as big a deal as I'm making it out to be.”

“I can have the food heated up in a jiff.” Matthew hopped into the shower and rinsed off. He had the table ready by the time Richard and I made it to the kitchen.

We were finishing eating when Richard brought it up again. “A friend of mine's throwing a dinner party this weekend. He has a few clients who might be willing to invest in my latest project.” He took a last bite of his food and shoved his plate aside. “I'd like to bring someone with me.”

“Someone?” Matthew said.

Richard rolled his eyes. “One of you.”

I grabbed his and Matthew's plates and stacked them on top of mine. “You're out at work?”

He met my stare. “I don't advertise, but I don't hide who I am. Most people I've done business with know. But I've never brought two men anywhere. Might be difficult for people to understand.”

“That's an understatement,” I said. “Being gay is hard enough for people to accept. Add in the two of us... ” I waved a hand through the air as I searched for the right words. “That might cost you.”

“I was thinking the same thing. I hate the thought of keeping one of you out, but honestly, I don't want to go alone. When Doug asked me if I wanted to bring someone, I told him the truth about you guys, and he was a jackass. Pissed me off. He's been my friend for a long time.” He paused. “It isn't fair to ask, but— ”

I interrupted with, “The kid should go.”

Matthew sat taller. “Me?”

I picked up the stack of plates and carried them to the sink. I rinsed the top dish until every ounce of food and possibly some of the dish's color had washed away, then swung the dishwasher open and stuffed the plate inside. This living together thing, being exclusive with them, was breaking all my rules. No way was I going to a party as a boyfriend, partner, or whatever the fuck Richard would tell everyone.

I turned around in time to see Matthew shake his head.

“What?” Richard asked.

“It wouldn't be right for me to go. I mean... you two look like you make sense together. You and me... ” He shook his head again.

“Why the hell would you say that?”

“Have you seen you? I'm not old enough, not sophisticated, not... people would buy the two of you together, but... ” He picked at the edge of a thumbnail. “Not me and you.”

I crossed the room and dropped into the chair next to him. “Matthew, that's bullshit.”

“He's right,” Richard said. “And even if people think you're too young for me or whatever, do you think I give a shit? Don't you know what I see in you?”

Matthew stared at the opposite wall. “I have no idea.”

Richard seized his face in his hands. “You are energetic, determined, caring, considerate, sexy— ”

“Addictive, beautiful,” I added.

“That's right,” Richard said.

Matthew stared at him for another shocked moment before he looked my way. “You mean all that?”

“I do.”

“We do,” Richard said.

“No one's ever treated me with respect the way you do.”

I hauled Matthew onto my lap, unable to keep away. “You deserve it.” I peppered him with kisses, over his cheeks, his jawline, the corners of each eye, showering him with affection. My subconscious told me the gestures were absurd, but I ignored it.

Richard slid into the chair next to us. “You'll come with me?”

Matthew leaned his forehead against Richard's. “Yeah, I will.”

Delight spread through me. Not because I didn't have to go to the party with Richard, but because we'd shown Matthew he mattered. Shown him he was worth something to us.

The rest of the evening progressed with laughs and excited bounces from Matthew as we watched
Close Encounters of the Third Kind
. And by the time Richard Dreyfuss sculpted his mound of mashed potatoes, Matthew had given up sitting by himself. He practically leaped out of his chair, landing on the couch between Richard and me. We ended the night with a slow, leisurely fuck that sent Matthew into a deep sleep.

I smiled as I lay in bed beside him. I'd helped to put him in a good mood.

I liked being someone who could make Matthew feel good about himself and his life.

I liked being someone who mattered.

What I didn't know then was that was the moment I'd gone too far. I'd become important to someone again, which meant I had given my father someone to hurt, someone to take away from me.

On the night Richard and Matthew went to the dinner party, I opted to trade Saturday at the office for Friday night. After I finished most of the analysis for my latest project, I shut my office door and dialed Roger Vance's number.

He seemed quieter than the last time I'd spoken to him, reserved, tired.

I wasn't great at this getting-people-to-talk-to-me business. I figured I'd better get right to it. “I'm starting to put together that DVD and had a question. Thought maybe you could help me make a decision.”

“Shoot.”

“I thought about including some photos of Danny Conner, but I don't know what my dad'll think. I was wondering, how did he act after Conner's death?”