Taking In Strays (7 page)

“Because, I’m not your kind of guy,” Donny plowed on, now afraid that Peter was angry that he had even considered that someone as upstanding and moral as Peter would stoop low enough to want him. “I’d just end up like those others….your other boyfriends, I mean… with blank spaces in your photo albums where my picture should be.”

Another long pause and then Peter said tightly, “I didn’t take them out, Dan did. He said they were assholes and that I shouldn’t remember them.”

“He was right!” Donny agreed, though he didn’t know the first thing about Peter’s ex boyfriends. That they had left Peter, causing him sadness, were good enough reasons not to like them.

“Donny,” Peter paused and there was the sound of plates and silverware rattling. “You’re having trouble and you’re sick. You don’t have to worry about what I think. You just have to take care of yourself and get better.”

But then he would have to leave, Donny thought dejectedly. More and more, he was discovering that leaving was the last thing that he wanted to do.

Peter brought in a tray and placed it on Donny’s lap. He looked down at a carefully prepared grilled cheese sandwich. Peter had cut it into wedges dripping with melted cheese, and placed those pieces upright, making a point at the center of the plate. A bowl contained hot tomato soup.

“You love me!” Donny exclaimed in delight as he smelled the rich aroma of melted cheese and tomatoes. “This is just what I want.”

“I’m glad,” Peter chuckled as he sat down on the couch next to him with his own meal.

Donny realized what he had said, paled, and tried to backtrack. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean love…. as in love…”

“Shut up and eat, Donny,” Peter admonished, looking amused. “You think too much.”

They ate in silence, except for the clink of silverware and plates, and then Parker said around a mouthful of food, “I tried contacting your father.”

Donny froze, his body clenching so tightly in shock and trepidation that he wondered if projectile vomiting was in his near future. He looked up from his soup and asked carefully, “And?”

He wanted Peter’s answer to be:
Your father says he’s sorry and that all is forgiven. He reinstated your credit card and your bank account
. Instead, Peter swallowed his food and then replied sadly, “He said that you were in South American with relatives and that the person claiming to be his son was an imposter. He suggested that I arrest you.”

“Why did you call him?” Donny asked bitterly.

“I thought there was a chance for you to work it out with your father,” Peter admitted. “I’m sorry that I interfered, but I couldn’t understand why you didn’t even want to make the attempt.”

Donny leaned forward and put his tray on the coffee table with deliberate motions. He felt dizzy as he stood up. He said, not looking at Peter, “I’m a freeloader. I’m not going to blame you for wanting to get rid of me as quickly as possible. I’m glad that I didn’t have to call my father and hear those lies for myself. I don’t even have relatives in South America, for fuck’s sake!”

Donny scrubbed hands over his face and then took a deep breath. Ignoring Peter’s steadying hand on his elbow; he pulled away and headed for the bedroom.

“You haven’t finished eating!” Peter called after him in concern.

“I’ve overstayed my welcome,” Donny replied loudly as he entered the bedroom. “Just let me get dressed and I’ll be out of here in a few minutes.”

Donny looked blearily around for his clothes and then remembered that Peter had taken them away to clean. All he had was the robe he was wearing. He felt Peter’s warmth at his back and he said quietly to him, without turning, “Did your brother leave anymore clothes behind that I can borrow?”

“Donny, please stop it,” Peter insisted. “I didn’t call to try and get rid of you. I called because I thought that I might be able to get you two to talk to each other. I spent years not speaking to my father. I didn’t want to see that happen to you.”

Donny rounded on him. He was unreasonably angry, his physical misery adding to his temper, as he shouted, “Why do you care? You could have just let the police put me in a cell and saved yourself a lot of trouble. That’s where I belonged. Now, you know that I don’t have anything, that my father isn’t going to change his attitude and come to take me home. Unless you dump me out on the street, you’re stuck with me.”

Peter didn’t hesitate to reply, “Dan helps people just like you. He’ll find you a job, a doctor, and even a place to stay, eventually.”

“Eventually?” Donny looked up into Peter’s blue eyes. His expression was concerned. Why couldn’t they have met under better circumstances? “He should find a place for me now. Why don’t you call him?”

Peter lifted a hand as if to place it comfortingly on Donny’s shoulder. Donny ached to feel his touch, those strong fingers bringing comfort, but Peter thought better of it and let his hand fall.

Peter explained, “Those kinds of places are okay until a person gets somewhere better, but they’re not places where you can sleep well, and get better, from the kind of flu that you seem to have. In fact, they might not even let you stay there if they think you’re contagious.”

Donny didn’t have any experience with places like that, but he could imagine an open dorm situation where his bunk mates might be drug users and alcoholics. He could imagine the noise and insecurity of a place like that. It definitely wasn’t where he would want to be unless he was healthy enough to defend himself.

“I don’t mind if you stay here a few more days,” Peter continued. “I have second shift the rest of the week and I usually work late. We’ll have breakfast together, but we probably won’t see much of each other after that. While you’re getting over the flu, Dan will sign you up for some programs that will help get you back on your feet.”

Peter made a motion with his hand, beckoning Donny back into the living room. “You don’t need to worry about your future, for now, so come back and finish your food.”

Donny wasn’t sure what to think about Peter’s assertion that they probably wouldn’t see much of each other
.
Did that mean that he wanted to avoid Donny or that he was reassuring Donny that he wouldn’t be encroaching on Peter’s privacy? As he followed Peter back into the living room and sat down to finish his dinner, he found himself hoping that it was the latter explanation.

Peter turned on the news while he finished his dinner and they sat in companionable silence. Donny had never had any interest in what was happening in the world--- or even in his own community. Totally insulated by money and position, it was hard to care about things that didn’t affect him. Now, Donny found himself watching local events with some trepidation. Work was scarce, violence was often gruesome and sudden, and housing that was affordable was as hard to come by as work. Good news seemed far and few between. This was going to be his new life, he thought, and he was as unprepared to deal with it as a newborn.

A fleeting thought skittered across Donny’s mind and he was surprised how quickly he mentally stomped it into oblivion. He might have scoffed at his sudden turn of altruism when he had been more than willing to open his fly for a few bucks in an ally, but the thought of using sex to manipulate Peter made him feel worse than he did already. The best thing that he could do for the man, in repayment for his kindness, was to get out of his life as soon as possible.

Peter looked over at Donny and then was turning off the television, his expression concerned as he stood up. “Maybe you should get some more rest?”

Stomach full and worries put on a backburner for the moment, Donny couldn’t deny that his eyelids were getting heavy and that getting from the couch to the bed seemed a distance that he couldn’t begin to cross under his own power.

“Pathetic,” Donny said around a yawn. “I need to turn in my Man Card
,
because I don’t think I can make it to the bedroom.”

“
Man Card
?” Peter snorted in amusement. “I think if you can still joke, as sick as you are, you’re still entitled to have one.”

Peter bent to help him stand, pausing a moment to decide how best to do that with his hands open and his eyes searching for holds that wouldn’t be construed as invading Donny’s personal space. Finally, he gave up any pretense of finesse and simply picked Donny up as if he were a child.

Donny felt impressed by the man’s strength as Peter carried Donny into the bedroom seemingly effortlessly. As he placed Donny on the bed, Donny couldn’t help saying, “You are unreal.”

“Is that good or bad?” Peter wondered as he straightened and looked down at Donny.

“Good,” Donny assured him and then let himself relax into his pillow. “Don’t worry, though, I won’t climb into your pants or anything. I know I’m not your kind of guy and that you have standards.”

Peter’s hand brushed Donny’s bangs gently out of his face and his eyes looked pained as he replied softly, “You keep putting yourself down.”

Donny felt a chill and it wasn’t from cold. The contact of those big fingers made him want so many things that he couldn’t have where it concerned Peter Parker. “You picked me up when I was passed out behind a bar. I was arrested for prostitution. I’m pretty certain that you have better standards than to want someone like me.”

“Circumstances sometimes-” Peter began but Donny turned a shoulder to him and hitched up his blanket until it hid his face.

“Don’t sugar coat it, Officer Parker,” He admonished dejectedly. “I made those decisions. I can’t take them back.”

“My mom likes to say that there’s always a chance for redemption,” Peter replied.

Donny wasn’t ready to hear something like that, and probably never would, he thought darkly, but he refrained from biting off Peter’s head. Instead, he muttered, “Sermon delivered. I need sleep.”

Peter sighed, stood for a moment, and then Donny heard his footsteps leave the room. The door closed softly. He didn’t think it was possible to feel more like shit than he already did, but he had managed it.

Chapter Four

“You were right about your brother,” Donny said as he leaned against the doorframe of Peter’s apartment and looked at Dan waiting expectantly outside. “He’s way too trusting and giving.”

“Interesting way to greet a guest,” Dan said, puzzled, as he shifted large bags more comfortably in his arms.

“I don’t live here, so I can’t really invite people in as guests,” Donny reminded him anxiously. “Does Peter usually let you come into his place? I don’t want to get into trouble or-”

Dan was already pushing past him and putting his burden down on the small kitchen table. Once the bags were secure, he slipped off a well worn, brown leather shoulder satchel and placed that next to them on the table.

Standing with the door still open, Donny grunted and closed it, before shuffling closer to see what Dan had brought.

Dan looked him over.

“You look…” Dan couldn’t find the words.

“Like a zombie?”

“Like you’re still sick,” Dan decided and began pulling clothes out of the bags. “I don’t want to hear any lip about style or color coordination,” he warned. “These are for not getting arrested for indecency and that’s it. When you are gainfully employed, you can buy your own.”

“A little big,” Donny noted as he checked the size on an orange shirt that spelled out in white letters:
Orange juice is for lovers
.

“They didn’t have stick figure clothing,” Dan joked. “I did the best I could.”

Donny pulled a pair of soft, worn, blue jeans and a white t-shirt from the pile and headed for the bedroom. “Crack about my size aside, I’ll take anything that will get me out of my robe couture.”

“Good attitude to have,” Dan called after him.

Donny changed, shaved, and brushed his teeth with a finger and some toothpaste, before returning to the living room. He felt much better, even though the shirt was two sizes too big and the jeans drooped off his ass. He was surprised to find sandwiches and chicken soup on the table.

“Peter said that you weren’t a whiz in the kitchen, so I thought lunch for both of us was in order,” Dan explained as he sat and opened his satchel. He pulled out forms and pens. “While we eat, I’ll explain how to fill these out so that you can get help from the state. First, though, I have to ask you a few questions.”

Donny sat and then felt a draft on his ass crack. He hopped in his seat and pulled the jeans up higher before looking over his food and replying, “I owe you and your brother. A few questions aren’t too much to ask in return.”

Dan stacked papers and picked up a pen as Donny began to eat. “Have you tried to contact any relatives or friends that might help you?”

Donny’s mouthful of chicken soup suddenly didn’t taste so good. He swallowed with difficulty and replied, “I made some calls on Peter’s phone after he went to work this morning. I found out that, when I was rich and the life of the party, everyone was willing to overlook the fact that I was a little bastard. Now, they’re not.”

Dan studied him, made a note, and then pressed, “Did your relatives feel that way too?”

“Dad burned those bridges a long time ago. Our family is from the backwoods of Arkansas. He moved away to dissociate himself from illiterate hillbillies. His words, not mine, though I have to admit that I’m not eager to call up second cousin Zeke and sleep on the cot in his hunting shack.”

“You’re alone, then?” Dan sounded sympathetic as well as disappointed. Donny couldn’t blame him for wanting a quick resolution to the problem of what to do with Peter’s unsavory guest. “You don’t have any close friends?”

“You and Peter live in a different world,” Donny replied bitterly. “The one that I lived in was all about position, power, money, and getting more of it. People there are disposable when they become inconvenient or aren’t useful any longer. I had one close friend from school. We always hung out together. Dad found out that his father had been part of a scandal involving some embezzled bank funds. He wasn’t prosecuted for it, but the suspicion was enough. Dad told me not to see my friend anymore and I didn’t.”