Sunset Park (3 page)

I pinched his side and changed the subject.

“Did you lock the door?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

David settled on the bed and looked around my room. He’d been over several times in the past couple of months, but only when Michael was staying with Nunzio. They didn’t know a lot about our friendship, and I liked it that way. David seemed to understand. Maybe he knew Michael would question how we had gotten so close, and act weird about it.

“You wrecked your room again. Good job, Ray.”

“Wrecking shit is what I do best.”

“How dramatic.” David went back to petting my hair. “When’s the last time you did laundry?”

“I dunno, Mother. Like, two weeks ago? Feel free to get on top of that shit.”

“Am I going to be paid for my services?”

“Getting to touch me is payment enough, to be honest. Do you know how many people get to lounge around in my bed like they belong here?”

David looked at me, intrigued. “How many?”

“It’s between the numbers negative one and one.”

The response put a smile on his face that could have given me cavities. David was a sap, but it was infectious, and I grinned back.

“I knew you liked me best.”

I closed my eyes. “Uh-huh.”

David inched closer until we had no space between our bodies. He pressed a kiss to my jaw. It was brief, innocent, but the feel of his soft lips was enough to send Nunzio’s comments flooding back into my head. The chaste peck burned against my skin, searing down to thicken my morning chubby. I kept my eyes shut, not letting my expression so much as twitch, even as I pressed my crotch harder against the mattress. I’d hoped my poker face was working, but when I slit my eyes open, I found him scrutinizing me.

“What?”

“Just pondering on the unfairness of how you can wake up looking this gorgeous.”

I scowled. “Stop being so extra.”

David rolled his eyes and withdrew his hand. “Fine. Did you talk to Michael yet? You never answered me.”

“No, and I don’t want to. In fact, I need to get out of here before he starts in on me about something other than unemployment.”

He frowned with disapproval. “You can’t keep avoiding this and lying to him. These things happen. You’ll find another job.”

The idea of Michael shrugging it off and saying “these things happen” was ridiculous. He was going to be disappointed to the nth power. He’d revert to taking potshots at me about being lazy and worthless. Every ounce of respect I had gained since our father’s death would evaporate one molecule at a time until we couldn’t stand being in the same room together. And it was my own fault.

“I’m just going to go out.”

“Where?”

“Dunno.” I rolled over and got to my feet, not so discreetly adjusting my dick once my back was to him.

“You could come to lunch,” David suggested. “Karen and Charles invited me, but I told them I was busy.”

I fished a pair of jeans out of the tangle of discarded clothing on the floor. “Nah.”

“Oh, c’mon. My friends are starting to think I’m making you up,” David complained. “Charles only believes me because he knows Michael.”

“If your people think you have imaginary friends, they ain’t friends.”

He lapsed into silence just as my doorknob uselessly twisted. David shot me a questioning look, and I nodded at him to unlock it.

If Nunzio thought the idea of me and David hanging out was weird before, I had no idea what was going through his mind when the door opened to the sight of me shirtless and zipping up my jeans. And after burrowing into my side like a puppy, David was distinctly more disheveled than he had been a few minutes ago. I looked over my shoulder and almost laughed at Nunzio’s startled expression.

“What?”

“I made breakfast.” Nunzio eyeballed David. “I guess you can have some too.”

“How can I refuse such an invitation?” David replied. “Don’t strain yourself setting out an extra place. I already ate.”

“Good.” Nunzio looked him up and down once more, shook his head, and left the room.

“Remind me not to have any coffee either,” David said. “He’ll poison it.”

“It’s possible. Listen, I’m going to jump in the shower. You can wait in here or go downstairs and deal with that shit by yourself. Up to you.”

Unsurprisingly, he stayed, even though my showers typically took seven years due to my hair, but it was better than sitting at the kitchen table while Nunzio cracked constant jokes and made side comments as Michael looked on with embarrassment. Goddamn soap opera.

By the time I got out, he’d gathered my laundry and was straightening my entertainment center. Knowing David, he did it more out of a compulsive need for order than an actual desire to please me. He was also stalling because Nunzio made him nervous. I didn’t blame him. Nunzio could be intimidating when he wanted to be.

I dragged David out of the room and away from the engaging task of alphabetizing my games while he muttered about not needing to be present to watch me eat. It was true, but I knew breakfast was going to turn into the house-renting conversation, and I hoped David’s presence would deter Michael.

Fat. Fucking. Chance.

“I know Nunzio warned you already,” Michael said as soon as I entered the room. He seemed to give zero fucks about David hanging around during this debacle. “And I know you’re trying to avoid it by hiding in your room and calling backup.”

“I came on my own,” David protested. He rested his arms on the counter and peered over the island. It looked like he was preparing for trench warfare. “I don’t even know what’s going on right now.”

I heaped eggs and bacon onto a plate, inhaling the smell, and temporarily ignored my brother. Starting the morning with a big breakfast while sun streamed in through the pale yellow curtains was ideal, but the cozy setting was already looking like deception. Michael knew I was more amenable to his lectures if I was well fed.

“Where’s the bread?”

Nunzio pointed a fork at a paper bag full of bagels and wisely chose to stay silent as Michael sat at the table across from him and geared up for the oncoming speech.

“I know you’re upset,” Michael went on, not touching his own food. “But it’s not like I’m suggesting we should sell the house. It will still be ours.”

David cocked his head to the side quizzically, but he refrained from commenting.

“¿Raymond, me escuchas?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m listening.” Ignoring the impatient look Michael hurtled at me, I held up a bagel for David. “Want one?”

“Um. No.”

“Fine.” I took one for myself and walked around the counter to where he was blocking the toaster. “Move.”

“The phrase is excuse me.”

I smacked his ass hard, and he jumped, scrambling out of the way. A flush crept up David’s neck and over his face, but he didn’t seem too upset. I got the feeling he liked it when I manhandled him.

“You’re a jerk.”

“Shut up and sit down,” I said.

“Why don’t you leave me alone and pay attention to your brother?”

“Good idea,” Michael said. He was looking between me and David with the same suspicious expression Nunzio had worn when he’d barged into my room. “What’s going on with you two?”

“Nothing is going on,” David said, giving one of his massive eye rolls. “Why do you have to keep asking that same question? Do you think I’m trying to turn him gay?”

“Did I say that?” Michael demanded.

“You’re implying it.”

“Why are you so defensive?” Nunzio piped up, smirking like he had a secret.

David shot me a frown that was equal parts questioning and uncomfortable. He looked out of place next to my, Michael’s, and Nunzio’s hulking forms, and his country club outfit clashed with the old-fashioned kitchen. I’d eliminated a lot of the religious décor in the past few months, but the walls were still crowded with displays of giant wooden utensils, island-themed art, and drawings of coquí
frogs on every available piece of fabric.

“Okay, leave him alone already.” I dropped my plate on the table with a clatter and put the toasted bagel on top. “This nagging big brother shit hasn’t been cute since I was twelve, so quit busting David’s balls and say whatever you have to say, since you can’t wait until we’re alone.”

“Nunzio is family,” Michael pointed out. “And David, well, apparently you like him enough to let him loll around in your bed.”

I gave Nunzio a dirty look over the rim of my coffee cup. He winked.

“Enough bullshitting.” David’s voice switched from mellow to authoritative. I wondered if he used that tone with Michael at work since he was some kind of grade-team leader or fake supervisor or something. Michael didn’t seem to mind David’s alleged authority, but in the beginning, Nunzio had bitched about him enough for them both. “If I’m sitting in on this conversation, I want to know what’s going on. If you’re not suggesting the house be sold, what do you want to do?”

Michael released a slow exhale. “Rent it.”

“Why?” David fired the question out before I could speak. “Is it because you want to live with Nunzio?”

After a brief hesitation, and a mushy look exchanged between the two lovebirds, Michael inclined his head. “Yes.”

“So why can’t he move in here?” David tucked his fist under his chin. “Is it the neighborhood?”

“Of course it is,” I butted in. “He’s too good to live around here. Needs to be Mr. Manny-hatty.”

Michael leaned back in his chair, glaring. “It’s not about being too good for anything. David’s right—I hate this neighborhood. I hate getting off the train and having to see the same losers I’ve been seeing on the corner since I was a kid. And I hate that it’s starting to look shabbier and shabbier, but I also want to move because we’re way out here in carajoland and I work in the middle of Brooklyn. You don’t understand because you drive.”

“You could get a car,” I pointed out. “No one’s telling you to hop your ass on the train every day like a sucker.”

“If I didn’t have other debt, I would.”

“Well, no one told you to use mad credit cards and go to college and have student loans either.”

David gave me a look of impatience that rivaled Michael’s. “Can you be serious, Raymond? He’s obviously stressed out about this, and you’re being a big baby.”

I packed my bagel full of bacon and eggs and declined to comment. Pointing out how David was taking the wrong side would only prove that I was a big-ass baby, but I’d expected him to have my back, considering Michael wanted me to fuck off to some unknown destination just so he and Nunzio could play house.

I shoveled food into my face while the silence lingered. In my peripheral vision, I could see Michael, mouth pinched at the sides and face etched with frown lines, as he stared at the table instead of touching his breakfast. I hadn’t seen him so uptight in months, and I wondered if he
was
stressed out by the conversation. About having to depend on me to agree so he could go live his life however he wanted to live it.

The last thing I wanted to do was hold him back; I just didn’t know where that left me. The suggestion was coming out of the blue after our lives were finally stabilizing, but maybe I was the only one who’d felt that way. Maybe Michael had felt trapped all along. The thought made my food taste like ash.

“I don’t know what to do,” I said. “I’m sorry, but I feel like you’re backing me into a corner. Where am I supposed to go?”

“We could help you find an apartment,” Nunzio said. “Somewhere closer to your job.”

“Yeah, about that….”

David nodded encouragingly and gave me the big doe-eyed look of someone who was way too optimistic about the fate of this conversation. Bless his heart.

“Just tell them,” he said. “It’s important.”

“Tell us what?”

I could tell by the tone of Michael’s voice that he’d already figured it out. Somehow, based on those few words, he knew.

“I lost my job. Kinda.”

“Wha—” Nunzio started, but Michael cut him off. “¿Cómo?”

Wincing, I choked down a massive chunk of bagel without daring to look up. When Michael switched to Spanish, it meant trouble.

“I messed up, okay? We don’t need to get into the details.”

“Raymond,” Michael said, his tone warning. He pushed back from the table, hands braced along the edge. “¿Qué pasó, carajo?”

“¿Qué te importa?”

Michael was out of his seat so fast the chair flipped backward and crashed to the floor. David flinched.

“¿Cómo que ‘qué te importa’?”

I shoved my plate away and watched Michael combust. “Look, calm down—”

“Hijo de la gran puta, coño—”

“I’m not telling you shit if you’re going to curse at me the whole time!”

“Then tell me what happened!”

This time I was the one who flinched. Having him scream at me in front of David and Nunzio should have fired up the fuck-you chip in my brain, but I just wanted to disappear. Sink into the floor. Rewind twenty minutes and drag David out the front door instead of into this disaster.

Michael paced the kitchen like a caged animal, breath coming out in harsh bursts. I hazarded a look at him again and felt worse. The guy was digging his hands into his hair and squeezing his eyes shut like the apocalypse had come. Maybe being trapped in this house with me was the equivalent for him.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I sounded small and weak, and if that wasn’t bad enough, there was a suspicious tickle at the back of my throat. My leg hopped up and down until David reached under the table and put his hand against my knee. He squeezed.

“The dispatcher was giving preference to the other casuals.” David met Michael’s eyes, and he lied right through his perfect teeth. I tried not to do a double take. He’d asked me a million questions about my short career as a longshoreman, but I’d thought he was being polite rather than retaining the information. “The guy who got Ray in at first—Rolly or whatever—kept telling him to get his TWIC card and to start the process to become unionized, but he slacked off and stopped getting preference if Rolly wasn’t the one making the calls.”

“David,” Michael gritted out, “I do not understand a word you are saying to me.”

I imagined that David was judging him for not paying more attention to my initial overexcited rambling about the job. Funny how he could look haughty about his superior longshoreman knowledge while stroking my thigh under the table. It reminded me of the way Nunzio had caressed Michael last night, before they’d gotten hot and heavy on the leather.