Sunset Park (17 page)

“Oh, fuck. Here we go again.” Raymond released me and stepped away, striding into the crowd. “Why does this always have to come up?”

I glared at his retreating back before hurrying to catch up. “It doesn’t always come up.”

“Yes, it does! You assume all of this stupid shit about what I’m thinking. Just like you thought I was hiding you from my friends.”

“Weren’t you?” I grabbed his arm, dragging him to a halt. “If I hadn’t taken the initiative, I’d have never met them!”

“Who gives a good goddamn?” Raymond exploded. “They ain’t got shit to do with you and me.”

“But it makes it seem like—”

“Makes it seem like to
who
?
I told your ass that it wasn’t the case, and you still don’t believe me! I don’t know how else to prove that I’m not some self-hating asshole just because I don’t think everyone needs to be all up in my business.”

His voice was so loud that I was sure everyone around us—and the people three blocks down—could hear and parse the conversation.

“If you’re not ashamed of being curious and of experimenting with me, then why is it such a big secret? Why do I have to lie to your brother?”

Raymond looked at me sideways. “What do you mean, lie?”

“Nunzio isn’t the only one who thinks we have a vibe. Michael has also asked me if something is going on between us.”

I hadn’t thought that there was anything particularly offensive about the words, but Raymond looked close to exploding. His jaw was clenched so hard that I was sure his teeth must be grinding.

“What’d you tell him?”

“I didn’t say anything. I had to lie and play stupid, because he is so convinced that you’re this innocent straight boy falling into my nefarious queer clutches.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“That’s basically what he said!” My own voice matched the volume of his. “If you weren’t so afraid of telling the truth, I wouldn’t catch so much flak for them assuming I’m trying to take advantage of you. Why can’t you just tell them what’s going on?”

Raymond rocked back on his heels, glaring at me from beneath the brim of his Yankees cap. “What should I tell them? That I wanted to see what it felt like to have some guy suck my dick and put his fingers in my ass?” He barked out an ugly laugh. “Are you seriously fiending to have that conversation with Michael? Or do you think something more is going on that needs to be talked about?”

The heat rose to my face. “I didn’t—I didn’t say that. That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean?” Raymond grabbed me again, his fingers closing around my collar. “If you think there’s something else we should be discussing, maybe you should just spit it out.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He jerked me forward, and I bumped into him, my face grazing his face, our lips close together, and his dark eyes mere inches from my own. Raymond’s head tilted down toward mine, just a portion of a moment when his eyes dropped to my mouth, and then it was ruined by a catcall. He stiffened and looked to the side. I didn’t bother to follow his gaze, but I heard muttered comments in Spanish.

Raymond sidestepped me and stood with his shoulders back, hands curled at his sides. “You wanna talk shit, motherfucker?”

I stopped admiring the smooth line of his jaw and finally looked at our audience. Two men a little older than us, Latino, and their expressions a cross between amused and jeering. I frowned and the taller of the two blew a kiss. Raymond shifted in their direction, and I grabbed his arm.

“Cálmate, Papi. No quiero tu novio.”

“Vete p’al carajo, maricón,” Raymond growled and flipped them off.

I dropped my hand. “Raymond!”

The two men laughed.

“Did you seriously just call him a faggot?”

Raymond rolled his shoulders. “Yeah.”

I stared at him, incredulous.

“What?” he demanded.

Scoffing, I turned away. “Nothing.”

Raymond

PAYDAY WAS
yet another reminder that I had screwed up big time by allowing myself to become known as an undesirable at my old gig. My check from LLS was half the size of my usual intake as a casual worker on the docks. I couldn’t imagine that the rest of the staff at LLS was making that much more than me, but judging by the glee on their faces when I walked around handing out envelopes, you’d think they had won the fucking Powerball.

“Yes!” Rosalie snatched it and beamed. “Thank God.”

“You get paid on the same day… all the time.”

“And it’s still a relief when you live paycheck to paycheck.”

I wasn’t quite at that point yet due to the leftover money I’d received from my mother’s insurance policy, but I wasn’t too far off. Scary thought. I’d barely be able to make rent and pay bills if I was only bringing in just about two grand a month with no cushion.

Rosalie recoiled from me. Or more accurately, the scowl that had formed on my face. “Geez. Are you having a bad day?”

“No. This is just my face.”

“Try to fix it. You’re going to scare people.”

She wasn’t the first person to say so. According to Karina and Eugene, half of the office staff was afraid to approach me. Karina seemed to think this could be easily solved if I started going to their weekly happy hours, but I wasn’t convinced. Or interested.

I spent the next hour handing out mail and paychecks, pretending I wasn’t irritated, and returned with a head full of cynicism about my lot in life and one paper cut away from flipping out on someone. My boss was a likely target. Viktor’s role as CEO of a small but lucrative company had put him on a major power trip. He was an unapologetic tool, appeared to get a hard-on from pitting his employees against each other, and fired people left and right. I’d been working at LLS for just under two months, and the office had already seen more turnover than gyro meat on a vertical spit.

But by some miracle, he hadn’t bothered me… yet. I suspected it was because I did my job and stayed to myself. Even so, I hated the guy on principle. Sending out invoices to freelancers had provided even more ammunition for my loathing. LLS regularly took in five- and six-figure fees for translation jobs from major corporations, but Viktor paid the translators chump change to do all the work. The proofreaders made even less money than I did. What a scam.

I watched the clock until the end of the day and had big plans to cash my check, get some shawarma from the Halal vendor on the corner, and do nothing for the entire weekend. I hadn’t been this much of a homebody when working on the docks, but there was something about LLS that sucked the energy out of me and led to me cherishing every moment I could spend in the comfort of my own home. Going out just made the weekend pass by quicker, and the faster it went, the closer Monday loomed. It was a nightmare.

I’d just yanked on my jacket and stepped out the door when my phone chimed. David.

David: Don’t forget, Karen’s party is tonight.

Six words had never been so horrifying.

Raymond: dont feel like going

He called as soon as my message sent. Not picking up was the best option, but after the way things had been going for the past couple of weeks, I wasn’t willing to dig myself into a deeper hole. Ever since the festival in Little Italy, there had been a noticeable shift in David’s behavior. We still hung out to watch movies or cook dinner, but he’d started avoiding smoking with me, and he wasn’t his typically affectionate self. It was even more noticeable if we wound up on Grindr at the same time. He had never messaged me again, and showed no interest in whether or not I was meeting guys. And I wasn’t. I’d yet to go beyond the realm of sexting, but my sexual frustration was heightening.

“What do you mean you’re not going?”

“I didn’t say I’m not going.” I dodged the pedestrians scurrying down Broadway. “I said I wasn’t feeling it tonight.”

“We talked about it weeks ago, and she’s expecting you.”

“Your friends don’t care if I show my face or not.”

“That’s not true. We were literally just talking about it.”

“I’m tired and pissed off, David. I’m not in the mood to pretend to give a damn about your friends. Just go have fun.”

The silence on his end lasted so long that I glanced at the screen of my phone to see if he’d hung up. He hadn’t and when he spoke again, his voice was low and tinged with disappointment.

“I knew you would back out.”

I stopped at the crosswalk and sighed. How did he manage to guilt-trip me so easily? And why the hell did I fall for it every single time?

“I’m not backing out.”

“So you’re coming?”

Cursing myself inwardly, I said, “Yeah. I guess.”

“Yay!”

He was disgustingly adorable sometimes.

“But I’m not dressing all fancy for you. I’m wearing the same shit I wore to work.”

“Like it matters? You look good in basketball shorts and a white tee.” David’s words tangled together at the end of the sentence. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, she lives on 180th and Fort Wash. You could just come uptown now, and we can pregame and help her set up.”

“Fine.”

Rerouting my steps to the A train, I had a feeling the night would end in disaster.

THE FIRST
sign of impending doom was that David was already drunk by the time I arrived at Karen’s apartment. It was just after seven o’clock, and he and Karen had worked their way through a bottle of Grey Goose. It had been a tough day at McCleary High School. Multiple student fights during a visit from the superintendent, and the principal had taken it out on David since his students had been involved. Michael had been so stressed that he’d bailed on the party.

It was a shitty situation, but I was glad my brother had chosen to stay away from a place that would be saturated in booze. Even if it meant I would now be alone at a party full of yuppies. A
birthday
party that I was attending without a present since David had neglected to tell me that key detail. I offered to set up the decorations since I had nothing else to give Karen. They didn’t look sober enough to string the two dozen Japanese lanterns she insisted on hanging from the ceiling, anyway.

“Why don’t you be easy on that shit?” I asked David, looking down from my decorating assignment. I was already regretting my goodwill. “You’re done for the night.”

“I’m not done with nothing.”

David stood up, making like he had big plans to help me, and tripped over Karen’s outstretched legs. He tumbled back onto the couch, fell half on top of her, and they both dissolved into giggles. I was not amused. Being around hopelessly drunk people just gave me an itch to get as far away as possible. Especially since I had never seen David in this state. He was like an alien. A slurring, red-faced, bright-eyed alien. And it reminded me a little too much of things I normally kept locked at the back of my mind.

“Listen, I don’t think I can stay all night,” I said. “But I’ll finish setting up all of this crap.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Karen said once she reemerged from her sprawl. “It will go late since my ex-husband has my daughter, and I’m sure you’re tired.”

“It’s not fine.” David regained his footing and glared. “You said you were staying the whole time.”

“There was never a point when those words came out of my mouth, and you know it.”

“It was
deeply implied
that you were staying the whole time,” he insisted.

“What do you need me here for? You’re already drunk off your ass.” I descended the step ladder and turned to face him fully just as he stumbled over the discarded box for the lights. “Seriously—look at you.”

“Don’t judge me. If you go home,” David slurred, crossing the room, “you’ll just smoke dope all night, and how is that any better than me being drunk?”

“Yeah. I’ll
smoke dope
.” I slapped his hand away when he pointed in my face. His finger skewed upward, knocking off my baseball cap. “You’re a mess.”

“You’re a hypocrite.”

“If this is how you be acting when you’re drunk, I’m definitely not staying.”

Karen waved her hands. I couldn’t tell if she was trying to calm me down or give a caution signal. Slow down, treacherous terrain ahead in the form of sloppy, drunken teachers.

“David gets a little feisty when he rage-drinks,” Karen confided. “And he’s been ragey for a couple of weeks.”

David shushed her, an exaggerated hissing noise, and I raised an eyebrow. It didn’t take much analysis to figure out he didn’t want her to talk about it in front of me. Probably because it involved me. Or rather, the scene at the festival. He was never going to let me live down that stupid slipup. I’d tried to pacify him with the knowledge that my father tended to come out of me when my temper got too hot, but he wasn’t trying to hear my excuses.

“You just can’t keep your mouth shut about anything, can you?”

“Oh, I forgot,” he retorted. “Everything with you is
secret
.”

“And with you, nothing is.”

I turned back to the lights. He muttered something, but I didn’t reply. If I’d known it was going to be like this, I wouldn’t have come at all. My intention had been to smooth things over, not have him shit-talk me in front of his friends all night, but a peaceful reunion wasn’t in the cards. I would stick around for a while just to avoid him throwing a fit, and then I was gone.

A flood of people arrived around nine o’clock, and by ten, the apartment was so crowded that I snagged a beer and ducked out on the balcony to get some space. Oli was already there, lounging on a wicker sofa with a plastic cup in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He also seemed to have come to the party right after work. But unlike my version of business casual, he was wearing a slim-cut gray suit and a burgundy shirt with the first few buttons undone.

“Can you believe the size of this apartment?”

I sat next to him and swigged from my beer. “It’s huge.”

“I used to wonder how she swung this on a teacher’s salary, but they bought the apartment when she was still with her husband.”