When You Don't See Me (8 page)

Unfortunately, when I called the farmhouse, I only got Adam's assistant. Adam and Jeremy had escaped Wisconsin's winter to go to some friend's wedding in Acapulco. Great for them; bad for me.

I muttered a few vile things about Kendra under my breath and began gathering up my dirty clothes. For the cost of a cab ride to Hell's Kitchen, I could use Blaine's washer and dryer and get that bit of drudgery out of the way. By the time my uncle got home from work, maybe I'd be mentally prepared to throw myself on his mercy. Again.

 

Blaine and Daniel lived in an apartment in an eight-story building on Fifty-seventh. It was actually two apartments combined—one on the seventh floor, and another directly above it. There were two bedrooms upstairs: the master bedroom where Blaine and Daniel slept, and the room that Blaine's daughter, Emily, used when she stayed with them. The dining room had been converted into their shared office. They rarely used the kitchen, unless they entertained. A terrace garden that had originally been accessible only from the master bedroom could now also be reached from their living room. The area provided the ideal setting for the small dinner parties they sometimes had.

I preferred the downstairs area. My bedroom had been there, as was Gavin's. That living room had been turned into the entertainment room and included theater seating and a stereo system with speakers wired to every room on both floors. Gavin and I cooked meals in the downstairs kitchen, and Blaine and Daniel ate with us whenever they didn't have other plans. The dining room table was the hub of the apartment. It was where everyone caught up, where all of us read over coffee or hot tea in the mornings, and where everyone but me had cocktails in the evenings. Even though there was a desk and a computer in my bedroom, I'd often done my homework or sketched at the table to keep Gavin company. His boyfriend, Ethan, was there a lot. It was fun to watch them flirt with each other, and they both spoiled me, so we were all satisfied.

“But it's not real,” Fred had once said to me after we spent a Saturday afternoon battling each other on the PlayStation 2.

“That's why they call it a game.”

“Not Ultimate Ninja. Your big gay family. The men are flawless. Their smiles gleam. Their eyes sparkle. The apartment is fantastic. Nobody's broke. Everybody's buff and healthy and white.”

“Ethan's Native American.”

“You know what I mean. You never see anyone paying an overdue bill or taking a crap. It's like a TV show about two gay couples and their rebellious teenage son. Except your rebellion is mostly limited to multiple ear piercings and slouching around in clothes they wouldn't be caught dead wearing. Every problem will have a happy resolution in less than thirty minutes.”

Fred was wrong. We had problems, and they didn't get worked out to a laugh track. But living with Blaine was still a million times better than my life in Wisconsin, right up until I told him I was moving out.

I walked into the lobby of his building with the duffel bag of dirty clothes slung over my shoulder. The concierge, a big hulking Greek named Stratos, smiled and waved me toward the elevator. At least Blaine hadn't told everyone to keep his bad-news nephew out of the building.

When I reached for the number pad, my finger hovered briefly over the
THREE.
That was the floor where my little cousin Emily lived, and I hadn't seen her since before I moved out. Then I chose
EIGHT.
Blaine and Daniel were never home during the day, and I could get the lay of the land before I went downstairs and faced Gavin.

As I shut the apartment door behind me and heard the synth-pop music pulsing through the apartment, I wondered if Stratos had called Gavin to let him know I was on my way up. I leaned against the wall and listened for a few seconds to what our household of men with very different tastes had called our peacekeeping music.

Daniel liked the classic divas: Cher, Madonna, Barbra, Judy, Bette, and Liza. They'd provided the soundtrack for his gig as a female impersonator when he was younger. Blaine preferred music without words. Techno, drum and bass, classical, jazz. Music that he could work or work out to. Only Blaine would endure Gavin's tendency to put on New Age music. Even Ethan, who'd made a career of doling out spiritual advice and wisdom, preferred to indulge his inner sister and wail along with Aretha, Mary J., Queen Latifah, Oleta Adams, and Erykah Badu. Unlike Gavin and Blaine, Daniel liked Ethan's music, but could barely tolerate anyone else's.

Then there was me. When I'd first moved in, none of them wanted me to control the tunes, because they hated Eminem, Marilyn Manson, and Ozzy. Later, they refused to let me play Gorillaz. I could barely even get away with the Foo Fighters, White Stripes, or Bush.

The only music all of us ever agreed on was the Pet Shop Boys, and it was their
Behaviour
CD that Gavin was playing when I went in. It made me happy. Relaxed enough to put down the duffel bag and walk through the apartment. Blaine's screen saver, the Lillith Allure logo, was the only thing moving. Daniel's favorite coffee cup was on the table, but other than that, everything was immaculate. Parker D. Brooks would have loved it.

I went down the hall and glanced into Emily's room. The marks she'd scrawled with her Crayons were still on the far wall, but she had new Hello Kitty bedding. This was apparently a recent interest and had replaced the original Beatrix Potter nursery furnishings. I thought of the years ahead and wondered if Emily and Blaine would go head-to-head about her tastes. Maybe she'd like the Pet Shop Boys, too.

It seemed rude to go inside Blaine's and Daniel's room when neither of them was there. And since I had no desire to go on the terrace, I walked back into the living room. Gavin was leaning against the half wall that hid the stairs, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Hello, Attica,” he said.

I scowled and said, “They didn't put me in jail for the fake ID. They didn't even arrest me.”

“That may change if you're starting a new vocation as a cat burglar,” Gavin said.

“Did I scare you?”

“I recognized the laundry bag.” He smiled, uncrossed his arms so he could hug me, and said, “Come on down and let's get it started. Are you hungry?”

“No.”

I followed him down the stairs. Then I had to forcibly take the bag to stop him from doing my laundry. “You don't get paid to take care of me anymore.”

“I never did it for pay in the first place,” Gavin said.

After I started the first load, I went back to the kitchen, pulled out a stool, and sat down. Gavin was filling pastries with some concoction. I didn't want to break his concentration, so I studied him for a few minutes.

Fred was wrong. The men in Blaine's apartment weren't flawless. People who didn't know Gavin might not even think he was handsome, especially if they didn't like the features that went along with having reddish hair. Light eyebrows. Some freckles. Fair skin. He did have a good body, toned more because of stretching and doing yoga than putting in time at the gym.

I thought it was Gavin's personality that made him attractive. He was always upbeat. Friendly. I liked it when he teased me because I knew it came from a good place. I watched the gentle way he nudged Dexter, Blaine's cat, away with his foot so he wouldn't step on him. Gavin took good care of everyone he loved, as I knew firsthand.

I watched him slice mushrooms and finally said, “Can I help you with anything?”

“It's under control. What's going on with you? Tell me about your roommates. Your new place. Your job. I hope I've been a great role model for your career as a domestic.”

I slid off the stool and opened the refrigerator. I wasn't really hungry, but I couldn't face Gavin. I didn't want to lie to him, but I wasn't ready to tell him the truth about being fired. He was being so nice. It made me feel guilty for staying away until I needed money.

I took out a container of yogurt and got a spoon before I sat down again. I told him about Kendra and what a sweetheart she was. Then I quickly launched into tales about her evil alter ego, Morgan. She and her snakes were always a good diversion. Plus it was satisfying to know that she'd hate being useful to me.

Gavin laughed about Lucifer and Hugsie and said, “My first boyfriend had a snake.”

“Is that the beginning of a dirty joke or the truth?”

“Truth. A boa constrictor named Squeeze. One thing I learned. Nobody fucks with a gay kid in the Baltimore suburbs when he walks around with a big snake.”

“That's the stuff of after-school specials,” I said, scraping out the last of the yogurt. “Instead of trying to turn your kid straight, just let him pack a snake in his book bag.”

“Soon every school would have a snake detector at the door.”

“Too bad my apartment didn't,” I said.

“Maybe Morgan's like my first boyfriend. The snakes keep away people who might hurt her.”

“I don't think Morgan can be hurt,” I said.

Gavin turned to stare at me and said, “I don't mean to sound like Dr. Phil, but
everybody
can be hurt, Nick.”

“Don't make me feel guilty about Morgan,” I said. “Let's hear more about your first boyfriend.”

Gavin washed his hands, got a different knife, and talked while he chopped onions. “Allen came from Florida. That seemed exotic to me at the time. He was all attitude, tan, and sun-bleached hair. We were fifteen. Freshmen. He was out and proud from the first day he walked into our school. I'd never told anybody about the feelings other boys gave me, so even though I admired Allen, he scared me. If I hung out with him, people might figure out the truth about me.”

Gavin stopped and tilted his head toward the stereo speaker. We both grinned as the Pet Shop Boys sang “Nervously.”

“Is that the way it was for you?” I asked. “Two boys from different places, too shy to talk about it?”

“Oh, that first kiss,” Gavin said. “It's always a killer, no matter the circumstances. On the weekends, everybody used to drive out to this abandoned chromium mine to drink or get high. Even kids too young to drive, like me and my friends, still managed to show up, hang around, pretend we were as cool as the seniors. One night, Allen was there with Squeeze. I don't know what it is about girls and snakes.” He made a resigned gesture with his hands. “But Allen was surrounded by them. I knew that one way or the other, I was getting some alone time with him. I shunned offers of rides home. Outlasted my friends and the snake-loving girls. And finally it was just Allen and me and die-hard couples off doing what couples do.”

“Did you do what couples do?” I asked when Gavin paused to wash his hands.

“As it got later, the night turned cold. Allen was wearing a denim jacket. He took it off and sort of stretched it across both our backs. Which meant we had to sit close. I have no idea what we talked about. I doubt I made any sense. I was too dazed by being in such close proximity to Allen, with Squeeze covering our laps. When we both turned our faces at the same time and nearly bumped foreheads, he kissed me.”

“With tongue?”

“He had no choice. I was practically eating his face,” Gavin said and blushed. “That's the first time I kissed a boy.”

“I was sixteen,” I said. “My stupid brother wasn't outside when my mom came to pick us up from school. She made me go to the boys' locker room to look for him. I never went near that place because I valued my life. But I knew she'd just keep sending me inside until I found Chuck, so I forced myself to go there. I caught Keith Lindblom, one of the track coach's student aides, um,
adjusting
himself while he watched my brother and his friends horse around in the showers. I didn't say anything to him. Other than could he tell Chuck our mom was waiting. But it freaked him out. He knew what I saw, and I guess he was afraid I'd tell the jocks.”

“You weren't out yet?”

“No. Keith started making a point of speaking to me in the hall between classes. Forcing me to meet his eyes. Being all friendly. I worked in the audiovisual department of the library, and he came in one afternoon when I was putting up some equipment. He was acting all jocklike and shit, trying to pretend we were friends, hitting me on the arm. He was too gutless to ask me to keep my mouth shut. That provoked me. I trapped him against a shelf of videotapes and kissed him.”

“What'd he do?”

“He shoved me away and burst into tears. I felt like shit. For about ten seconds, until he grabbed me and kissed me back. Then he walked out, and we never spoke of it or went near each other again. Especially when Shelley Creighton told the whole football team I was gay a couple weeks later. I think your first kiss went better than mine. Especially if it led to better things.”

“I wouldn't be a teenager again for a million dollars,” Gavin said. Then he looked at me and said, “Oh. Sorry.”

“Don't be. I'd give a million dollars to skip nineteen. It's good that no one can make that happen, because I'm too broke to pay up.”

“I thought you might be,” Gavin said. “Is that why you're here? To ask Blaine for a loan?”