Breakneck

Chapter 11: Terminal

"Anyway, you know it's going to be at least two weeks until we get our tests back," I grouched to Daphne. "Like, what's he doing with them, anyway? Taking pictures of each page so we can't go and modify it afterward, and then ask for a grade change?"

Daphne giggled. "He would, you know. If he could figure out how to work a camera."

I moaned. "But I want my test back now!"

"Just don't think about it," Daphne said, patting my shoulder sympathetically. "Here—tell me about dinner last night! How did it go?"

Daphne had had a dentist appointment this morning, and we'd spent lunch period cramming for calculus, so both of our usual time slots had been nixed today. Now, after the school day had finally ended, was the first chance we'd had all day to really talk.

"It was fucked, just like I thought it would be," I said, shrugging.

Daphne made a face. "What happened?"

I opened the door and lost my breath for a moment as bitter wind cut right through my jacket and into my chest. My eyes watered, and I bent my head down, shuffling outside against the wind, and waited for Daphne to catch up before I started speaking.

"Michael still hates me, his boyfriend feels bad for me, and Melanie and Lindsay think I'm just a stupid kid who should have given Luke up for adoption." I considered things for a moment. "Although Emmett was nice enough. And Brian fucked me, so he can't be completely disgusted with me."

"Oh my God, what?"

I couldn't hold back my grin. "Yep."

"Oh my God! Oh my God, Justin, I knew you weren't over him. You big liar!" She squealed as she slapped me on the shoulder. "I knew you still loved him!"

"It's just fucking, though," I told her, rolling my eyes a little at her enthusiasm. "I mean, he's pretty much acting like Luke doesn't exist. It's not like he's suddenly decided to become his second daddy."

"Do you want that?" Daphne asked.

I shrugged. "I mean, yeah. A second father in general would be great for Luke, but I don't think Brian..."

I trailed off, the words slipping out of my head as I saw who was standing on the sidewalk.

"Hey, what—oh. Oh my God."

I stood there, too stunned to move.

Cal's face was haggard and set in deep, sagging lines, his hair looked as though it hadn't been washed in several days, and he didn't even seem to notice the biting wind, or the fact that his coat was entirely too thin to be keeping him warm. He swayed a little, in the wind.

Then he caught sight of me and straightened, his face suddenly coming to life.

"Oh my God," Daphne repeated.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was marching right up to him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I demanded.

He smelled like he'd bathed in rum.

"I came to see Luke," Cal said, a slight smile on to his face.

"You stay the fuck away from him."

Cal blinked.

"You lost all rights to him when you walked out on us," I snapped. My heart was pounding furiously, and my palms were shaking—I had no idea whether I was afraid or angry, but whichever it was, I could barely keep myself under control. "And I'll be damned if you think that you can waltz back in and take him back. He's my son. Mine. I won't let you take him away from me."

"I only want to see him," Cal said, sounding lost. "That's all. He must be so big, now."

"You're not getting within a hundred feet of him."

"I just want to see him," Cal repeated.

I glared at him, hiking my backpack up my shoulder a little higher. "You're drunk."

"Please, just let me see him. I need to see my grandson. My Luke. He's all I've got left."

"Look, Cal..."

"Please," Cal pleaded, tears coming to his eyes. He grabbed my hand, holding it in both of his, looking one step away from getting down on his knees. "I want to see him. I tried to come last night, but your father slammed the door in my face, he said you don't live there anymore... Justin, please. I don't understand. I just want to see him. Why can't I see him?"

"Justin, he's totally fucked up," Daphne said warily.

My mind was racing.

"I want you to go to your house and shower," I ordered, my voice shaking slightly. "Get new clothes on. Don't so much as look at a bottle of alcohol for the next twenty-four hours. And meet me tomorrow at the Liberty Diner, at five."

"Will Luke be there? He's still blond, isn't he? All that beautiful blond hair..."

"I'll bring him, but I swear to God, if you've been drinking, I'll leave and never let you see him again," I added, my voice hardening.

Desperately, my brain was trying to process things. Cal was back. Cal wanted to see Luke. I was letting him see Luke.

What was I thinking?

As Daphne hustled me away from Cal, the same question was obvious in her eyes, though she didn't say it aloud. I was grateful. I don't know what I would have said.

*

I wanted to call my mother and tell her that Cal was back in town, but I had her number halfway dialed (home phone number was shaped like a flattened rhombus) when I realized telling her this wouldn't accomplish anything. Dad had clearly given up on me completely. I would have expected him to have yanked Cal into the house, called a lawyer, and had me served with a custody hearing first thing in the morning. But he'd given up on me. He probably hadn't even told Mom that he'd seen Cal.

Mom hadn't given up on me. She'd probably try to get me to give Luke to Cal, try to get me to come home... try to get me to turn straight?

Fuck her.

I could deal with this on my own.

*

Later on Monday evening, just as I was settling down with my homework in the living room after I'd gotten Luke to sleep (it had been bath night, and he'd carried on unreasonably for almost an hour afterward), the phone rang.

"Got it!" Debbie announced, though in a muted voice compared to her normal booming tone.

I shrugged and opened my bio textbook. I had all the data for my project, but the second half of the project was more theoretical and required an unfairly thorough knowledge of plant hormones. I had gotten through the second paragraph on the effects of auxin when I heard my name.

"Oh, no, Sunshine would love to do that! Anyway, I've got a shift. Sunshine, come here."

I frowned, having no idea who it could be. Not Cal. He didn't know where I was staying, and he didn't have a working telephone in his house to be calling on. My mother? Daphne? Hell, Brian?

"Hey Justin, it's Melanie," Melanie announced, when I picked up the phone.

I blinked. "Oh. Um, hi. What's up?"

"Well, Lindsay and I were wondering if you wanted to make a little money on Friday night."

"Sure," I said, still surprised. "Um, I mean, I'd love to make money. But I don't know if I can get someone to watch Luke."

"Well, see, that's the thing, kiddo. We need a babysitter for Gus."

She sounded only a little bit reluctant in telling me.

"Oh."

"It would be at our house. I'm sure that we've got most of what your kid needs, anyway. What do you say?"

Always with the 'your kid'. Did no one want to acknowledge that Luke had a name?

"Sure," I said, keeping my irritation to myself. "What time do you want me over there?"

"Oh... Five would be good, even though we don't have to leave until five-thirty. Lindsay's got a whole list of shit she'll want to run over with you. We're just going to a dinner that my firm wants me to attend, so we should be back by ten."

Something came to life in my mind. An idea. A question.

"Are you a lawyer?" I asked.

I didn't want to ask her—it was too private, too personal, too... But I had to know, and Luke was more important than my pride. We'd established that on Sunday, hadn't we?

"Yes, I am. And if you crack so much as half of a lawyer joke, I'll kick your ass," Melanie threatened, only somewhat playfully.

"No, no," I said quickly. "I have a question, actually. Um. If you don't mind."

"Nope. Shoot."

"Just—I don't have to go through any adoption process, right? Because Luke is biologically mine, no one can question my legal right to him?"

"His mother passed away two months ago, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then you're good," Melanie said. Her voice had taken on a brusque tone that I recognized was probably her 'courtroom' voice. "You've got every legal right to him. If someone wants to challenge you for custody, they'll have to do it on the grounds that you're an unfit parent, not on your actual rights to raise him. Why? Did someone serve you with court papers?"

"No, nothing like that." I wasn't inclined to share much more than I had to—I was uncomfortable enough, asking her. "I was just curious."

"Well, there's your answer. So we'll see you on Friday evening?"

"I'll be there," I promised.

We said our goodbyes and hung up. I was caught off guard, however, when Debbie pulled me into a hug on my way back to the living room.

"Um."

She released me, grinning broadly. "See, honey? And you were worried that they wouldn't accept you."

"I never said that," I said instantly.

Debbie gave me a knowing look.

"I wasn't worried," I insisted.

Also, Melanie hadn't 'accepted' me. She'd just been desperate for a babysitter. But I didn't say that part out loud.

"Well then," Debbie said, patting me on the shoulder. "I was just givin' you a hug for the hell of it."

I rolled my eyes as Vic chuckled from his armchair, and went back to my biology homework.

*

The following day, as I was leaving the house with Luke in one hand and a diaper bag in the other, Vic wandered downstairs and asked where I was going.

"To meet a friend for dinner," I said vaguely.

By happy coincidence, Debbie had a PFLAG meeting at five and wouldn't be working until eight, tonight. Vic moaned about having to fend for himself for a moment or so, but told me to scoot, when I offered to bring him a doggie bag.

I was surprised to see, when I arrived at the diner fifteen minutes later, that Cal was already inside. I could see him sitting by himself through the front window. He wasn't paying attention to much beyond the top of the table he was seated at, so I took the opportunity to check his appearance.

He'd showered, changed his clothes, shaved, and now wore a weather-appropriate coat. He still looked like a corpse. Whether or not he'd been drinking remained to be seen.

It was really fucking cold outside, and I still hadn't gotten around to buying one of those puffy snow-suit things for Luke, so I didn't stare for much longer and hurried inside where it was warm.

I tentatively sniffed the air near Cal, but couldn't smell any alcohol, so I slid in the booth across from him with Luke. "Hi."

He looked up in surprise, eyes widening and then fastening on to Luke. There wasn't a lot of him visible—because I was still lacking a legitimate winter outfit for him, I had him dressed in multiple layers and a hat, as well as a thick blanket that was practically swaddling him.

Cal himself looked even worse up close. His skin was mottled and grayish, sagging in places and making it look as though he had lost fifty pounds in the last month. Cal had always been tall and thin, but now he just looked like a skeleton with skin pinned up in places.

The waitress—or waiter, I couldn't tell—stopped at our table. "I can get you a high chair, sweetie."

I nodded. "That'd be great, thanks."

"Can I hold him?" Cal asked, his voice with an almost hoarse quality to it.

I hesitated, and then nodded. "Yeah. Just let me get him undressed so he doesn't overheat, first."

I didn't want to hand him over. I don't know what I thought Cal was going to do with him, but I took my time unwrapping the blanket, pulling off the little green hat (it had antennae coming out of the top, like an alien's—a present from Daphne), unzipping the little sweater...

Luke had lived with Cal for eight months, I reminded myself as I pulled the sweater off of his other arm. Cal would never hurt him. Cal just wanted to see his grandson.

But still, I couldn't quash the rising dread in my stomach as I lifted Luke up and over the table, into Cal's waiting, trembling hands.

I almost snatched him back when I saw the trembling hands.

"Hi, Luke," Cal breathed, holding Luke out from his body and taking him in. There was a wide smile on his face that made him look slightly less dead. "Hey, kiddo."

Luke, predictably, began to whimper and squirm, distressed with the lack of support, and my hands were underneath him in an instant.

I glared. "He doesn't like to be dangled. Or did you forget?"

"Of course," Cal murmured, bring Luke closer and holding him against his chest, now, one hand sliding down under his butt. Luke had calmed down, and was only sniffling.

I wanted him back. He was still unhappy, and there was a stranger holding him, who didn't know how to comfort him, who had spent the last two months drunk off his ass, and I was sitting here across the table…

I clenched my fists and forced myself to keep quiet. This was stupid.

"Here you go," the waiter/waitress said, setting a wooden high chair down in front of the table with a bang. I caught sight of a name badge, which read 'Sam'. A fat load of help. "We ready to order?"

I didn't have any money.

I looked at Cal.

"Order what you want," he said.

I shook my head. "No, really, it's—"

"I mean it," Cal interrupted.

Well, fine.

"I'll have a bacon double cheese burger, fries, and a strawberry milkshake."

"Just a cup of coffee for me," Cal said, when Sam looked at him.

"You sure?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow. "How about a little toast to go with that?"

Cal shook his head. "No thanks."

When Sam left, Cal was still holding Luke. On one hand, he had cheered up considerably, which made me happy, but on the other hand, time had passed and Cal still had him. How long did he need to hold him, anyway? Why couldn't Luke be as clingy as he's been on Sunday night?

"Can you put him in the high chair, so he can have dinner?" I asked.

A perfectly reasonable request. I was a little uneasy at the idea of Cal putting Luke into the high chair, but I told myself that I was being ridiculous (again). It wasn't like Cal was going to drophim.

But I still watched Cal like a hawk as he carefully slid Luke into the high chair, and didn't relax until his hands were fully off of Luke and back under the table.

"He got so big," Cal said fondly, smiling at Luke.

"He said his first word, last week," I informed him.

Cal grinned at me. "No kidding? What was it?"

"Dada."

Grinning, Cal turned to Luke. "Good job, kiddo!"

Luke beamed, though this might have had something to do with the diaper bag that I had started sifting through. He clapped his hand and made 'gimmie' motions when I came up with a baggie of apple puffs. I laid a few out on a napkin for him.

With obvious effort, Cal tore his eyes away from Luke and focused on me. "So you're, uh, not at home anymore?"

I shook my head.

Cal didn't know about the gay thing, and at this point, it wasn't any of his business. Also, I definitely didn't want to get into the whole story of Liberty Avenue and Brian and how I'd left Luke alone so many times during those last few weeks when I was living at home.

"When did that happen?" Cal asked.

"Week and a half ago," I answered.

God, that sounded like such a short time. Why did it feel like a lifetime ago?

Cal was watching me, and I avoided his gaze by turning to give Luke more apple puffs.

"Well, are you gonna tell me what happened?" he finally asked, sounding a bit irritable.

"No," I said curtly. "I'm not."

"You're not going to tell me the reason you took my grandson from a stable home to go bum off some other dumb—"

"I'm leaving," I interrupted, reaching for the diaper bag and zipping it shut.

"No!" Cal protested, grabbing my arm.

"Let go," I said through clenched teeth.

Cal let go.

"Please," he begged, suddenly the picture of remorse. "Please, don't leave. Don't be mad. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that, not when I…"

Grudgingly, I let the bag go. But there was no way I was letting him steer the conversation any longer.

"Why did you leave?" I asked.

Cal flinched, eyes lowering to the table.

"Why?" I demanded.

"I couldn't stay," Cal said, shaking his head and not looking up. "Sara was… I just had to leave. It's different, for you. You've only known Luke for ten months—you haven't raised him for sixteen years. It's so different."

"You think I love him less than you loved your daughter?" I couldn't hide the anger in my voice, the disbelief. I'd almost given up everything for Luke. Everything. And he'd run away like a fucking coward!

But Cal shook his head. "You don't understand. You don't... You don't know."

"I know that I wouldn't run away to go—go waste away in a bar somewhere! I'd stay and help the people who were depending on me!"

Luke stopped mid-chew, face crumpling, and I quickly calmed myself and reached out to stroke his hair while keeping my eyes fixed on Cal.

"Justin, what I did…"

"You ran out on your grandson, when he needed you most," I said, keeping my voice calm so that my drama queen of a son wouldn't start to cry again. "You left. You ran away like a goddamn coward."

"I'm not staying," Cal said suddenly, looking up at me again. "I can't stay. But Luke—you and Luke, how are you gonna be?"

"We'll be fine," I answered automatically.

"You should go to college. Are you going to college next year?" Cal asked.

"I don't know how that's any of your business."

"Is it… Is it the money?"

"It's always the money," I snapped, losing my temper for a moment. I forcibly reined it in, keeping the rest of my words even. "It's the money that I'm costing people to live where I do—the money I need to take care of Luke, the money I'd need to pay for daycare and the money I'd need to pay for tuition, because my father sure as hell isn't going to pay for it anymore. Money that no one's just going to hand over to me."

Cal looked at me for a long moment, and then nodded slowly. He seemed resigned, heavy. "You're right. Of course."

"So, this is, what? A goodbye?" I asked.

Slowly, Cal nodded. "Guess so."

"You'd better mean it," I said tightly. "Luke doesn't need you coming in and out of his life—he needs stability and consistency right now."

"I'm selling the house," Cal said.

I blinked. "What?"

"Grab anything you want."

"Uh. Yeah," I said slowly, still struggling to comprehend. Of course he was selling the house. It wasn't like he was living here anymore—had I expected him to just let it go on as it was, abandoned and rotting?

I let Cal feed Luke the rest of his dinner and ate my burger in silence. Not much more was said. A strange combination of dread and anger was twisting up my stomach, and I couldn't wait to get out of there and leave Cal—this broken, wasted man who was promising to stay away for the rest of his life but would probably come around again when he'd had a little too much to drink, hurting Luke as he got older and understood who he was but not why he couldn't stay.

Half of my shake still untouched, I made excuses about homework and Luke needing a diaper change soon, and started bundling him up to go outside.

"Thanks for dinner," I said as I pulled on Luke's hat.

Cal hesitated. "Can I… Can I hug him? Just one last time?"

"Let me get this on," I said after a moment, referring to the sweater that I was forcing Luke into. He wasn't being disagreeable—just completely distracted with trying to get to the remaining food on my plate.

Cal took Luke gently, not dangling him this time. Luke went without a fuss, though he started squirming when Cal hugged him for a moment too long. I wanted to dismiss it as him just being a drama queen as usual, but truthfully, I was uncomfortable with the whole thing, too, and I snatched him back as soon as Cal was finished.

Without another word, I got the second sweater on and then wrapped him tightly in the thick blanket I'd brought. But as my eyes swept the table, doing a final check for things that might have escaped the diaper bag, I caught sight of who was sitting a few tables down.

Brian. What?

He, of course, cocked an eyebrow and stared right back, looking not at all fazed to see me. How long had he been there?

Then he raised a hand and slowly crooked a finger—a come-hither motion.

Fucker.

I turned back to Cal, who had slumped back into the booth and was staring blankly at the counter like he'd been doing when I'd first come in. I sighed, zipped up my coat, slung the diaper bag over my shoulder, and then finally picked up Luke.

"I…"

I couldn't think of a single thing to say.

"Good bye," I finally said.

Cal didn't answer. He'd seemed to have crawled back into himself, the stupid coward.

Scowling, I hitched the diaper bag higher on my shoulder and turned, making my way over to where Brian was sitting.

"What?" I snapped, and then I winced. "Uh. Sorry. What's up?"

Brian leaned back, amused. "Do you remember your little performance in your school's parking lot, last month?"

The hand job.

My mouth fell open. "Brian, did it escape your attention that there's a baby in my arms?"

"Is that what that is?" Brian eyed an admittedly barely-visible Luke. "I thought it was a twitching roll of blankets."

"I'm not giving you a handjob right now," I said, irritated. "And if that's all you wanted—"

"Christ, can you stop being a twat for, like, two seconds and listen to me?"

Sullenly, I glared.

"Do you remember the reason why I was at that hideously over-priced high school of yours?" Brian asked.

"You wanted to tell me to get my ass back on Liberty Avenue," I said. And then, thinking it might appease him a little, added, "Because Emmett and Debbie were worried."

"I'm telling you that again," Brian said.

I decided to be deliberately obtuse. "That Emmett and Debbie are worried?"

Brian was so not impressed. "What are you doing tomorrow night?"

"Homework. Dishes. Giving Luke a bath," I said with a shrug. I flashed him a winning smile. "Why, are you asking me out?"

"I thought you were already out. Isn't that the reason you're in this whole mess?"

"Ha ha. It's so funny I forgot to laugh."

"Be at Babylon tomorrow night," Brian ordered me, and then he picked up the menu as if that settled everything.

I frowned. "I can't."

Brian looked up, eyebrow raised. "Why not? You can't have that much homework, you're too smart."

"I can't," I repeated. "I'm not… I don't think I'll be going out for a while."

On my hip, Luke was starting to fuss about the blanket. I knew that it was restricting his movement, but until I got up the money to buy him one of those snowsuit things, this was as good as it was going to get. Anyway, I wouldn't be much longer.

Brian was studying me when I looked back up, but he didn't remain pensive for long. A second later he shrugged and picked up the menu again. "Suit yourself."

Great. Well, there went that.

As I left, Cal was still staring at the table. Brian was staring at the menu. And outside, Pittsburgh was getting its first real snowfall.

*

The three hundred dollars I found stuffed into Luke's sweater put me in a bad mood for the rest of the night.

*

Cal had already skipped town by the time school let out the next day. I didn't hang around the house to pile up on stuff that I wanted—I stayed only long enough to determine that he'd gone, and then left for Deb's. I wasn't even sure that I was going to take anything at all. I supposed that I should grab photos, for Luke. But that could wait for another day.

I didn't make much of an effort to hide my rather morose mood at dinner, and Vic asked me about it as we were clearing the table.

"It's nothing," I mumbled, stacking the plates to take to the sink.

"Justin, you haven't smiled once all night. If you keep this up, Sis is gonna have to change your nickname to Overcast."

I snorted, a weak smile coming to my face.

"Don't worry about it," I said, shaking my head a little. "It's just stupid teenage stuff. I'll get over it."

"All right. But just so you know, I make a mean cup of hot chocolate, and my soundboard impression is impeccable."

"I'll keep that in mind. Did someone just knock?"

"Let me check," Vic said, dropping the dish towel he'd been using to wipe off the table.

I turned my attention to Luke.

"You're a mess," I informed him, lifting him out of his high chair. Tonight had been some chicken-pea mash with rice, and Luke's hands and face were all sticky. I turned on the faucet and ran a rag under the water, waiting for it to warm a little. "And tonight's your bath night, isn't it? I'll bet you were hoping I would forget. Too bad for you, little dude."

Luke protested as I cleaned him off, but I was quick about it. I pulled the bib off from around his neck and was about to set him down when Vic suddenly yelled.

"Justin! Door for you."

Puzzled, I stepped out of the kitchen and saw—

"Brian?"

He grinned. "I heard you needed help with your chemistry homework."

The burst of joy that I felt at seeing him (oh my God, he's here, he actually went out of his way to come and see me) was quickly replaced by wariness and confusion.

"Shouldn't you be out?" I asked. "You know, drinking, fucking, doing d—"

"Not in front of the child, Justin," Brian said with a smile gone predatory. He slid his coat off and threw it over the couch. "Now show me this chemistry problem. You were having trouble with dipole seconds?"

"Uh," I said intelligently.

For the record, I wasn't in chemistry. But I had a pretty good idea of what Brian wanted me to show him upstairs.

I looked down at Luke, who was squirming every which way in an attempt to be put down.

"I'll watch him," Vic offered, looking between Brian and I. He grinned. "You two go work on your chemistry."

I shook my head. "No, I couldn't—"

"Oh yes, you can." Brian glanced up the stairs meaningfully. "Let's go. I've got other places to be tonight."

I opened my mouth to protest again, but saw Vic's eyebrow go up, and thought better of it. It wasn't that I didn't want Brian to fuck me, or let me suck him, or whatever it was that he had planned—it was just that the idea of leaving Luke alone… Leaving for school this morning had been hard enough.

But I trusted Vic. I did.

"All right," I agreed, letting Luke down on the ground. "You can help me with my chemistry homework."

Brian followed me up the stairs.

"Although, I don't know how much they knew about chemistry, back in the Stone Age," I went on as we climbed. "Did they even have paper back then? Or were you still chiseling things out on—ow!"

Brian slapped my ass again, for a good measure.

I reached the top of the steps, spun around and smirked. "Or was it the printing press that they'd just invented?"

"Here I am, being nice, coming to rescue you from a life of servitude to your little parasite—"

I elbowed him.

"Also," I added, as he shoved me back and then plowed ahead to the bedroom, "you know that it's called a dipole moment, not a dipole second, don't you? It's not actually a measurement of time, it's a measurement of polarity in a chemical bond."

"The idea of being grateful really just escapes you, doesn't it?"

I grinned, shoved the last of my worries about Luke out of my head, and let him push me down on the bed.

*

Surprisingly, Brian didn't rush out as soon as he'd gotten the condom in the trashcan. He went for a cigarette, but I yelled at him that he would give Luke cancer by secondhand smoke, and so with an eye roll and a disgruntled look, he set the pack of cigarettes back. It was silent for several minutes before—

"Do you wanna know why I don't go out anymore?" I blurted out.

"Chemistry homework," Brian deadpanned.

"You asked yesterday. You're the only one who's asked. I want to answer."

Brian sighed, closing his eyes. "Whatever."

I stared down at my hands for a moment, and then pushed myself up and off the bed to get a pair of underwear.

"It's just that—being irresponsible and going out to Liberty Avenue all the time was what I did wrong last time. I almost lost Luke. And I learned my lesson, I don't want to leave him alone at night, especially now that…" I paused. "You remember the guy I was with last night, at the diner?"

Brian didn't so much as twitch.

"That was Sara's father—Luke's grandpa. The one that skipped town. But he came back to see Luke and he…"

"Fucker wants custody?" Brian asked, cracking open an eye.

I shook my head. "No. He just wanted to see him. He said that he wasn't ever coming back, but I know he will. He'll get drunk and he'll turn up again, begging to see Luke, and I don't want to… I mean, he has a right to see his grandchild, but—"

"No, he fucking well doesn't," Brian snapped, his eyes opening in irritation. He lifted his head, scowling. "Family doesn't mean shit. You of all people should know that—or did you forget that your dad kicked you out?"

I glared. "I ran away. And it's not like Cal hurt Luke. He loves him."

"Look, it's your kid. You've got to do what's best for him, and you're not going to do it by trying to appease everyone. Do what you think is right and fuck the rest of it."

The words tumbled out before I could stop them.

"I'm not like you, Brian."

Brian raised an eyebrow. "What, ballsy? Confident? Stubborn?"

I paused for a moment, surprised. I'd always thought of Brian and I as opposites attracting. But when he put it like that...

But that wasn't the point.

"You do this thing, where you can just shut it all off."

"Ah," Brian said, a slow smile coming to his face. "The art of not giving a fuck. It's the skill of a lifetime, grasshopper."

"But you do give a fuck." Of this much I was certain. "You just find some way to… stop. Shut it off. Everyone knows that you don't care what anyone thinks, you don't care about anyone else's feelings… How do you do it?"

Brian stopped for a moment, and then blew out a breath. "If we're gonna have these conversations every time after I fuck you, I'm gonna stop fucking you. Or at least stop doing it sober."

I don't know why I expected a real answer.

The important part, I reminded myself, was that Brian was fucking me, and that he planned to keep doing it. He was as good as ignoring Luke, but he wasn't angry with me, and he certainly didn't judge me for my failed attempt at striking out on my own. I think that I intrigued him, more than anything. Something about me had caught his eye, before he'd known about Luke, and even now that I had a kid and wasn't out pursuing him on Liberty Avenue every night, he was curious enough that he was coming back to me.

It wasn't love. It wasn't blossoming romance. There were no visions of Brian becoming Luke's second daddy, or of the two of us buying a house in the suburbs and attending PTA meetings—but I knew that if I pushed hard enough, we could have something. Some kind of relationship. There was a spark between us that had existed from the first night, something I'd never felt with any of the other men I'd fucked (granted, there hadn't been that many of them), and I knew that Brian had felt it too. What we had was special. And if I pushed, something would come of it.

"Mikey's birthday party is this Sunday night, at the loft. I expect you to be there."

"Um." I tried to think of a way to phrase my question without sounding totally lame. "Will Gus be there?"

"It's not that kind of birthday party," Brian said dryly. "Leave the kid with Mel and Linds' babysitter, wear something hot, and come ready to fuck."

I goggled. "You're throwing Michael an orgy for his birthday?"

"If I was, I wouldn't be telling you to come."

"What, I'm not hot enough?" I asked playfully.

I knew I was hot enough for one of Brian's orgies. I'd never been in one, or even seen one, but it was just something that I knew—if there was an orgy, Brian would want me involved, if only under the pretense of education.

"Let me put it like this," Brian said, eyeing me with a look that told me he knew what I was thinking. "Would you want to be in an orgy with Mikey?"

"Ew," I said immediately, wrinkling my nose.

"Exactly. Also, Debbie's going to be there, and there's no way Michael would get naked in front of his mother."

I wrinkled my nose even more at the thought of me being naked in front of Debbie—and Michael being naked in the first place.

Brian smirked.

"But… I don't know if I can come," I said slowly, shaking my head. "I mean, I don't have any money to pay the babysitter, and I… I just told you I don't feel comfortable leaving Luke alone."

"Christ. I'll pay for your half of the babysitter, if it's that much of a problem."

"No, I don't want—"

"You can stay after the party and clean up, if you're going to insist that you earn it."

"Don't you have a cleaning service?"

"Only on Tuesdays."

I bit my lip. "I still don't feel comfortable leaving Luke. I know it's irratio—"

"Look," Brian interrupted, propping himself up on his knees. "Debbie took you and your kid in, out of the goodness of her heart, and you're going to miss her son's birthday party? You don't think that she'd want you to be there?"

Ouch.

"That's not fair," I muttered, but I was feeling the twist of guilt anyway. "You can't manipulate me just because I care about other people."

"Well, until you learn how to, as you said, 'shut it all off', you're going to be," Brian said, sounding rather smug.

I glared. "Fine," I huffed. "I'll go."

Brian grinned and, apparently satisfied with that, changed the subject. "So where'd the nipple ring go? Finally realize that it made you look like a hooker?"

I grinned sheepishly. "Luke discovered it and liked pulling on it a little too much. It's probably closed up by now, but I guess it's better than having my whole nipple ripped off."

"I thought you were into pain?"

I fought down a rise of irritation. This again?

"Just whips and bondage. No mutilation," I said blithely, to cover my annoyance.

Brian's lips curled upward slightly.

I unlocked the door, sticking my head out slightly, and heard Luke's laughter from downstairs. Having determined that he was fine, I shut the door and relocked it, and then finally went back to where Brian was still sprawled out on the bed.

"You should come over more often," I said, dropping down on the bed next to him.

And then before he could get out some snarky reply, I leaned up and kissed him. Hard. Brian instantly responded, his hands coming up to my shoulders as he tongue pushed into my mouth. I regretted putting underwear on as I felt him getting hard against my thigh, and I worked to pull them down with one hand without breaking the kiss. Brian wasn't the only one getting hard. I was seventeen and between school and Luke, I didn't exactly have the opportunity to lock myself in the bathroom for a few hours on Saturday afternoons.

He raised his hips, grinding into the soft skin of my inner thigh, and whatever half-heartedness there might have been about my erection before vanished, leaving me painfully hard.

"Uhf," I gasped, as Brian pulled away, his tongue running along my bottom lip for a moment. I kissed the side of his mouth and then began trailing kisses down his neck, planning on descending all the way down to his cock, where intended to suck it with abandon. My ass may have been my best feature, but my cocksucking was, without question, my best skill. And I liked it, too. I didn't see it as servicing Brian—I saw it as taking control, me controlling his gasps, his jolts, his heart rate, his every moment of pleasure.

I'd seen Brian talking on the phone during blowjobs in the backroom of Babylon.

Brian forming coherent words when it was my mouth around his cock? Not even in the same zip code as possible.

So I guess it was lucky that Brian's phone went off just as my lips were puckered on the head of his cock.

"Motherfucker," Brian spat, pushing himself up.

"Ignore it," I said hopefully, but he was already sliding out from under me and rolling off the bed.

Annoyed, I sat Indian-style and crossed my arms over my chest, glaring and not caring that I looked like a petulant five-year-old.

Brian pulled his phone out of his jeans, which had somehow landed over Luke's crib in the frenzy of getting undressed. "Kinney," he snapped.

There was a beat of suspended silence, in which I was still irritated with him, and then suddenly his posture stiffened and I knew that whoever was on the phone with him, they had good reason to be.

"Lindsay, shut up, you're rambling. You're taking him to the hospital?"

Oh, no.

Gus.

"Which one?"

Brian had started dressing one-handedly as he spoke.

I bit my lip, a thousand terrible things running through my head. Gus was still young enough for SIDS, still young enough for allergic reactions and congenital defects that hadn't yet been detected and auto immune disorders and more than the two soft spots at the posterior and anterior fontanel—what had happened?

"I'm on my way," Brian said, and then he hung up.

"What happened?" I asked immediately, rising up off the bed. "Is it Gus? Is he okay?"

"He's sick. He's got a fever and he's throwing up," Brian said shortly, while pulling his shirt over his head. "I'm sure Lindsay's just overreacting, but she wants me to turn up. Doesn't even ask if she's ruining my night..."

Yeah, right. I was totally gonna buy that.

He wasn't even bothering to keep the worry out of his tone.

"Call me and let me know that he's all right, okay?" I asked.

Brian stuffed his feet into his shoes as he put on his jacket. "Yeah, whatever. See you."

I bit my lip as he practically flew out of the room, and hoped that everything would be okay. Luke, thank god, had survived his ten months with only the appearance of a rash on his arm, which the pediatrician had dryly diagnosed as "A rash. The kind every kid gets. Stop worrying." Hopefully, Gus just had the flu. And hopefully, his little immune system would be able to fight it off.

*

By the following morning, Brian had not called with news on Gus. I left him an irritated voicemail before leaving for school, which he had not returned by the time I got home. I stuffed down my irritation, played pat-a-cake with Luke for a while, and when five o'clock rolled around I called Lindsay and Melanie.

"Oh, Gus is fine, honey," Melanie quickly assured me. "He just has a little ear infection, that's all. He's almost all better. How'd you hear that he was sick, anyway?"

"Oh, you know," I said vaguely. "The grapevine."

"Meaning Brian."

"Um."

"Mm. Justin, a word of advice—I know that you think Brian's some kind of gay mecca in human form, and no one's denying he's hot, but he's not the kind of guy you really want around your kid."

"You chose him to be the father of your kid," I shot back, suddenly prickly, both at the fact that Melanie thought I was a total retard, and also at the fact that, yet again, Brian was being verbally slaughtered. I was beginning to think that his huge ego was more of a defense mechanism than anything.

Of course, it worked on a positive feedback loop, but that begged the question of which had come first—the ego, or the verbal assault?

"Brian's a sperm donor, not the father," Melanie said shortly. "Or he will be soon, anyway."

"I just wanted to make sure that you still wanted me to babysit on Friday night," I said, changing the subject before I started arguing and lost myself my Friday-night gig.

"Of course! Gus isn't contagious, and he should be back to normal by then. We'll see you at five?"

"Yeah, I'll be there."

"Awesome. See you then, kiddo."

"See you."

I hung up and turned my attention to Luke, who was babbling while simultaneously stuffing the leg of his hippo into his mouth. I'd have to do the bundling routine tomorrow night before I took him out—there were only a few inches of snow on the ground, but it was mighty cold outside and I still didn't have the money to buy him snow clothes…

My thoughts slowed as it dawned on me that I did have the money.

I didn't want to use it. Everything in me screamed against using it. But I couldn't deny the fact that Luke had no real winter clothing, and as we'd already established, loving your kid apparently also meant forsaking your pride. So I closed my eyes, inhaled, and reached for the phone to call Daphne, who'd always loved shopping for baby clothes a little too much.

*

A week later, Cal killed himself.