stared at a small slate-colored box on the middle shelf and said, “This isn’t the way this sound
system is supposed to be set. Is it, Ricky?” Then he reached forward and adjusted a few knobs.
Ricky put his hands in his pockets and stared down at his shoes. He tended to like a lot of
bass when he listened to music, and his father preferred everything to be perfectly balanced.
Ricky had adjusted the sound the previous night when he’d been playing cards with Leyland. But
he’d forgotten to reset it and now his father was scolding him for ruining his balance. Ricky
never understood this. All it took was a few quick adjustments and the sound system could be reset. But if just one of the switches had been moved even slightly, it sent his father into a
complete kerfuffle.
When the balance was even again and all switches and knobs were where they should be,
his father turned to Ricky and said, “You know how I hate you fooling around with my sound
system. You have an iPod and you shouldn’t be fooling around in here with your friends. Do I
make myself clear?”
Without looking up, Ricky nodded and promised he wouldn’t go near the sound system
again, especially while his parents were gone. Then he went back into the kitchen and finished
his breakfast while his mother gave the granite counters a good going-over one last time.
On the way to the airport, he promised he wouldn’t leave the lights on all over the house,
he wouldn’t forget to put the trash out on Sunday night, and he wouldn’t open the door for any
strangers. His mother worried about burglary a lot. She kept a can of mace in every room of the
house, just in case. She had this strong belief that if a door was unlocked for even a second, half
the criminals in the inner city would be slogging into her living room to steal her beloved putto.
His father drove to the airport. When he pulled into the departure terminal, he gazed in
the rearview mirror and said, “We’ll call you when we arrive. And I set up an interview with a
man named Ted Rogers.”
Ricky sat up straight. He was in the back of the minivan, looking out the window at a
plane taking off. “What interview?”
“The interview I set up with a representative from
the right school
,” his father said.
“There’s a guy coming from Boston to talk to you on Thursday evening. He’s interviewing a few
prospective new students in New Jersey this week.” Ricky rubbed his face and frowned. “There’s no way I’m getting into an Ivy League
school. Besides, I’m not sure I want to go to one anyway. I’d like to go to school in New Jersey
or New York, and it doesn’t have to be Ivy League.” They’d been over this a thousand times, and
yet his parents still didn’t seem to get it. It was as though they went deaf when he told them
where he wanted to go to college.
His mother looked back at him and smiled. “Don’t worry, dear,” she said. “Just tell the
man about all your activities in school, especially about your work with Future Entrepreneurs of
America project. Tell them how much the other boys like you. They just love that sort of thing.
With your grades, your SAT scores, and you being president of the student council, not to
mention all your athletic achievements, you’ll have no problem getting into
the right school.
”
Her voice trailed off with a lilt, as if she were asking a question instead of making a statement.
Ricky folded his arms across his chest and stared out the window. He couldn’t help
wondering how his parents would react if he didn’t get into
the right school.
When his father pulled up to the curb and put the car in park, Ricky got out and helped
them with their bags. He was reaching into the back of the minivan for a carry-on bag when he
heard his mother say, “Look at those two pretty young girls, Ricky. They are staring at you and
giggling. I think that’s so cute. You’re going to be a real heartbreaker. The girls will be chasing
you.”
Ricky rolled his eyes and handed his mother the bag. He’d often wondered why she never
seemed worried he didn’t date girls or even talk about them. Did she think he was shy? That he
was saving himself for the right girl? Was the woman blind
and
batty?
He looked over his mother’s shoulder, completely ignoring the young girls, and smiled at
the taxi driver who had just pulled up behind them. The driver had that dark, swarthy look like the man in Ricky’s shower dream. The driver smiled back and Ricky and licked his lips a couple
of times.
Ricky’s father was too busy organizing the luggage to notice his son was undressing a
dark-haired taxi driver with his eyes. And Ricky’s mother was too busy fumbling with her purse
to notice Ricky stretch and yawn so his shirt would go up and he could expose his lean stomach
to the taxi driver. He even turned so the driver could check out his ass, arching his back on
purpose.
“Here’s a hundred dollars for food,” his mother said, handing him a wad of cash folded in
half. “And there’s another hundred for emergencies.” Then she leaned forward and kissed him on
the cheek.
As they turned to leave, Ricky’s father looked back and said, “And please don’t forget to
water the plants on the patio and in the conservatory, especially the hibiscus trees. It’s going to
be warmer than usual and they’ll need plenty of water.” He spoke with a patronizing tone, as if
Ricky were three years old.
Ricky smiled at his father and said, “Should I start your car?” His father drove a brand
new Porsche convertible, silver with black leather seats and a black top. Ricky had been dying to
get behind the wheel of that car.
His father frowned. “Just leave my car alone.”
“But what about the battery?”
“The battery will be fine,” his father said. “Just drive the minivan while we’re gone.”
“My van has a full tank of gas, honey,” his mother said. She smiled and tilted her head to
the right. She leaned forward to kiss him goodbye again and said, “And make sure you lock all the doors and turn on the burglar alarm at all times. You never know who could be lurking
around these days. My putto is very precious.”
He nodded yes and kissed his mother on the cheek, then he shook his father’s hand and
watched them walk into the airport.
By the time he turned to walk back to the driver’s side of the minivan, the cab pulled
away from the curb and stopped beside him. The swarthy dark-haired driver honked lightly and
rolled down the window. When Ricky looked down, the driver smiled at him and said, “Nice
jeans, man. Looks good.”
Without thinking, Ricky looked inside the taxi and smiled. But when he saw the driver
had one arm sprawled across the seat and one hand between his legs, Ricky’s hands felt shaky.
The driver looked to be about thirty years old, maybe younger. His legs were spread wide, his
zipper was down, and he was holding an eight-inch dick in his fist. Though he was aggressive to
the point of being obnoxious, this guy was even better-looking up close, and his dick was even
nicer than the dick Ricky had dreamed about. Ricky’s mother would have screamed and called
for the police, demanding they arrest this pervert. His friends on the football team would have
kicked the cab and reached inside to punch the driver.
But Ricky’s heart started to race and his mouth went dry. Part of him wanted to jump into
the cab and start sucking the driver off, and part of him wanted to crawl beneath the minivan and
hide. He fumbled with the keys, reached for the door, and jumped inside the minivan so fast he
banged his elbow against the door frame. He shoved the key into the ignition and locked the
doors. By the time he looked back at the taxi driver, someone was honking a horn.
The driver threw his hands up in the air, shook his head, and sped away. Ricky looked
into the mirror and took a deep breath. His face was still red and his heart was still pounding. Then he punched the steering wheel with one fist and pounded the passenger seat with the other.
Once again he’d had the perfect opportunity to hook up with a hot guy and he’d let it slip by.
Leyland would have jumped into the cab and dropped his pants. If this kept happening and Ricky
continued to panic each time a good-looking guy made advances toward him, he’d never know
what it was like to kiss a man, feel a man’s hands on his body, and touch another man’s penis.
* * * *
For dinner that night, Ricky popped a corn dog into the microwave and filled a water
glass with vodka. Then he dropped a few ice cubes into the glass and added a splash of bottled
sparkling water. This was the first time he’d ever been home alone for any length of time and he
wanted to make the most of it. Though his mother had left a row of pre-cooked well-balanced
organic meals on the top shelf of the refrigerator in plastic containers, labeled and marked for
each day she’d be gone, he didn’t feel like eating a balanced meal that night.
He ate his corn dog standing over the center island in the kitchen, without using a plate.
Each time he put the corn dog down on the granite counter to take a sip of vodka, he pictured his
mother running up with a dry paper towel and can of granite polish. She would have tossed the
corn dog into the trash and fished a decent meal out of the refrigerator. She only bought corn
dogs because he begged her for them, but she never made them for dinner. They were just for
snacking or late-night binges, not meals. If it wasn’t organic, grown on a special farm without
chemicals, and didn’t have the ingredients listed in detail, Ricky’s mother wouldn’t allow it in
the house.
When he finished the corn dog, he took another sip of vodka and looked out the kitchen
window. The glass of vodka was still mostly full and he hadn’t had much to drink, and by that
time the ice had melted and watered it down even more. But he felt a little lightheaded and his toes were starting to tingle. The sun had gone down already, but it was unusually warm outside.
Ricky’s father had just opened the swimming pool for the season and it was ready to be used. So
he picked up his drink and headed outside to take a quick swim in the nude. He’d always wanted
to swim in the nude, but he’d always been afraid his mother or father would come home and
catch him.
But they wouldn’t be home that night. He had the entire house to himself and he could do
anything he wanted to do. So he kicked off his sneakers and pulled off his socks. Then he
dropped his pants, pulled down his underwear, and unbuttoned his shirt. Being naked outside
was dangerous and exciting. He had a full erection before he had a chance to look between his
legs.
He felt so daring he took a small sip of vodka and walked back into the house, with his
dick flopping and swinging and his balls slapping against his legs. He crossed into the living
room and opened the armoire, then switched on the sound system, turned up the volume, and
readjusted the switches to give the music the heaviest bass sound he could achieve. And as one
of his father’s favorite oldie songs blasted throughout the house, Ricky danced all the way
outside to the pool. He spread his legs wide and rotated his hips in circles. He bucked his pelvis
forward and tossed his head back and forth. He pretended to be playing a guitar, and he mouthed
the words to the song. At one point, he leaned backward and slowly ran his palms down his
naked torso. Though he’d never seen a live male strip show, he’d seen male strippers on TV and
he’d always wanted to do try it himself.
After a few minutes of dancing around and jumping off lawn chairs, Ricky sensed he was
being watched. He slowly looked up at his neighbor’s bedroom window and saw a man peeking
through the blinds. Ricky just glanced sideways. He didn’t stare; he didn’t look directly at his neighbor’s house. This wouldn’t have worked if the guy knew Ricky could see him. It would
have been too awkward, the neighbor would have retreated, and Ricky would have run back into
the house riddled with shame. But as long as the neighbor didn’t suspect anything Ricky felt
comfortable. There was no harm done and nobody had to know about it this little exhibitionism
except them. Ricky might tell Leyland about it, but he wasn’t sure. Leyland probably wouldn’t
believe he’d had the courage to strip for his cute, young divorced neighbor.
With his naked legs spread wide and his white shirt hanging off his shoulders, Ricky
posed sideways and exposed more of his body. He didn’t look up once; he knew he had a captive
audience. Maybe he was doing something illegal and he’d be arrested for it. But he couldn’t help
