by Todd Gregory
Why couldn’t I have had a nice sister?
“And Dylan—her friend Dylan—he’s transferring here this fall?” Phil is saying. “I thought I recognized the name. Transferring from the UCLA house, you said?”
“Dylan’s not so bad,” I lie. Dylan always treats me like I’m invisible. “He’s engaged to a Marine serving in Afghanistan.”
Phil smiles. “Isn’t that nice?”
“Yes,” I lie. I can’t tell him the truth about how I feel about Dylan, Joni’s precious Dylan, and his precious fiancé and—no, best to keep my mouth shut. I have Ricky, and that’s more than enough. I don’t want Phil to know how awful I am.
I don’t want anyone to know.
I can’t mess this thing up with Ricky.
I wouldn’t want to live if I lost him.
PHIL Poor, stupid, naïve Kenny.
I’m tempted to tell him about Brandon’s plans for Dylan, but why get his hopes up? Besides, it doesn’t make me look particularly good to know about it.
Must keep up appearances.
Anyway, Brandon might not succeed. He doesn’t always. And this Dylan sounds like a tough one. I’m looking forward to meeting him. The pictures I’ve seen of him online don’t look like he’s anything special. It must be the engagement that is so challenging for Brandon. I get it, I do; sometimes it gets boring playing the seduction game, especially when the other player is so easy. It’s why I don’t bother with any of the gay brothers in the house. They’re all too easy. Look at Kenny, with his tearstained face, sitting on my bed upset because of his bitch of a sister!
Family. I’ve never understood why people are so hung up on their families.
I could go the rest of my life without seeing or talking to mine and it wouldn’t bother me in the least.
“Stop giving your sister so much power,” I say to him, and he turns an adoring face to me. Honestly, I could have the little fool right now if I wanted him.
Yes, I do understand Dylan’s appeal for Brandon.
“She can only hurt you because you let her,” I go on. “Why would you let her have that kind of power over you? She’s your sister, but you don’t like her. Let it go, Kenny, you’ll be much happier.”
I think of my own sister. I haven’t spoken to her since I came to San Felice. I don’t speak to my parents very often, for that matter. My mother always tries to guilt me into coming home for a visit and I just can’t deal with them. Isn’t Thanksgiving and Christmas enough? I send cards for their birthdays and call once a month like clockwork. What more do they want?
“I know it’s hard,” I say. “But trust me, you shouldn’t give anyone that kind of power over you. Not even Ricky.”
“But I love him.” He looks confused. “Why would he hurt me?”
He’s like a child. His parents—and sister—have really done a number on this poor kid’s self-esteem. I mean, for God’s sake, he is twenty years old and still a virgin. He’s never had sex, he’s never had a boyfriend, he’s never been in love. It’s no wonder he and Ricky haven’t done anything yet.
They don’t know how.
Maybe I can convince Brandon to help Ricky along a bit when he’s here for the Baby Bash.
It’s this coming weekend, actually, and I have the party completely planned. The kegs are ordered, the cups and ice; I’ve hired the DJ and everything is ready. Brothers will probably start arriving on Friday and start drinking the minute they arrive. This is my first party as president, and since the social chair won’t be here until school starts, I’m running things, and I want to impress the brothers as much as I can by making this the best damned party in the history of the chapter. Last year there were only six kegs; this year I ordered ten. The DJ will play until two in the morning, and I’ve invited all the other fraternities and sororities. The party is an excuse for the brothers to come back to town and hang out for a weekend in the middle of the summer. It started years ago, and it’s called the Baby Bash because it’s unfair that brothers whose birthdays are in the summer don’t get to celebrate them in the house, so we celebrate them all at once in a big blowout of a party. The house is already spotless; I’ve been getting the other brothers living in the house this summer to help me get it all shipshape. Usually the house is a disaster area before the party; last year’s president thought buying the kegs and hiring the DJ was all he needed to do and then let it go. Not me.
And hangovers or no, everyone is going to get this place cleaned up the day after.
I wonder…no, forget it.
That wouldn’t be smart.
“All right, Kenny, are you okay now?” I ask, standing up and smiling down at him. “I have some things to do, but I don’t want to chase you out if you still need me.”
As I expected, he leaps to his feet awkwardly, all bumbling and clumsy and full of apologies, and can’t even get the words out. He’s kind of like a puppy, endearing in all of his goofiness, almost adorable in a way.
“No, no, no need to apologize, I’m sorry I have to chase you out,” I say, steering him gently through the office and out the door into the hallway. “Are you sure everything’s going to be all right with you now?”
He nods, and I smile as I close the door.
I pull my phone out of my pocket. Three hours’ time difference between here and Fire Island, so it’s late there—I speed-dial Brandon and hit the FaceTime app.
His hair is wet and drops of water are scattered over his face. “What do you want? I just got out of the shower.”
“Big plans tonight?”
“We’re just going dancing. Dylan is coming with us. Jeff and Blair are here now, too.”
“Dylan’s going to a club? Isn’t he afraid he might be tempted?”
Brandon gives me a sour look. “It’s just dancing.”
Hmmm, that’s an interesting response. Things must not be going well. “I wanted to let you know that I think I’ve figured out who’s been telling Dylan negative intel on you.”
That got his attention. “Who?”
“Turns out that Dylan’s best friend is Joni Gaylord.”
“Gaylord? As in Kenny Gaylord?”
“None other. So Kenny probably talked to her—or she asked him about you.”
He gets a lazy smile on his face. “And didn’t you say that Kenny is dating Ricky now?”
“Mmm-hmmm.”
“I suppose fucking Ricky would be a nice way to punish Kenny for talking out of turn, wouldn’t it?”
“You’d really be doing them both a favor,” I purr back at him. “You know, they haven’t done anything yet. I don’t think they know how.”
“You always get your way, don’t you, Phil?”
“It does seem to work out that way a lot, doesn’t it?” I laugh, delighted. “Any luck with your Dylan?”
“Not yet, but we’re both coming to the Baby Bash.”
“You’re going to have a busy weekend, aren’t you? Bye, darling.” I disconnect the call.
This is working out even better than I could have hoped.
I walk out of my office and up the stairs and knock on Ryan Bradford’s door. I can hear rock music blaring from inside. I knock louder.
The door opens and I wince from the loudness of the music. “Is my music too loud?” he yells at me. I shake my head and hold a finger up to my nose, pressing the left nostril closed. Ryan smiles and waves to me to come in. I shut the door behind me and he turns down the music on the stereo system with his iPhone plugged into it. “How much you need?”
Ryan is the house dealer. We all pretend that no one in the house does drugs and that no one in the house is a dealer, but it’s how Ryan is paying his way through college. You can never go wrong selling coke and acid and weed to a fraternity, and he does a pretty good business. He’s a straight A student, too. He doesn’t indulge in his own wares very often—he told me once that’s the worst thing any dealer can do, because once you start dipping into your product you’re cutting into the profits, and once you start cu
tting into the profits it’s a slow, steady road to bankruptcy, addiction, and rehab.
He should know, his dad is a bankruptcy lawyer who worked his way through school, so all he does is pay Ryan’s tuition, and Ryan has to come up with the rest of his money on his own.
“Beats flipping burgers” was all he said when he told me the story.
Ryan also doesn’t use the coke to bag chicks, either. “I leave that to my customers. It’s a business, man.”
I buy a gram from him and he gives me a taster bump.
The coke explodes in my head and I feel light-headed, like I’m floating. It almost tastes like bubblegum, the way the best stuff always does. I check the little origami fold he gives me and it’s all rock, too, which means it’s as close to pure as I’m going to get. You never can be sure when it’s all ground powder.
This should be enough to get me through the weekend and the party, and a little celebratory line tonight won’t hurt once I get back to my room, would it?
That’s the trick with coke, you can’t just give in to it because it will always beat you if you let it. About half an hour or so after I do one line my body will want to do another one, and my mind will start thinking oh just one more won’t hurt anything and there’s still plenty left and then I’ll not want to do it alone and so I’ll have to find someone to offer some to and then the next thing you know there’s nothing left and I’m licking the paper desperately trying to get a bit more high when the truth is you’ll never get more high and the first high is really the only good one and all the rest will do is make your head hurt and your nostrils burn and your eyes tired.
I roll a joint before I grind up a tiny piece of the rock on the framed picture of my parents on my desk. It always makes me laugh a little bit to snort coke off my parents’ faces.
I light the joint and take a hit and snort the coke almost immediately.
Perfect. I feel perfect.
I lie back on my bed and think about the party this coming weekend.
Dylan.
What’s up with Brandon and that anyway?
I think about the face he made when I made fun of Dylan. That isn’t normal. Usually Brandon will go along with just about anything I say, play along with the joke. But he didn’t. He made a face and he played it all off.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say Brandon was starting to feel something for Dylan Parrish.
Like that’s going to happen.
I get out my phone and open the Grindr app.
I need to blow a load.
This party is going to be epic.
BRANDON The music is thumping and I’ve had more to drink than I should. I’m trying to keep it together, but Dylan, the way he dances! Oh my God, the way he can move that hot little ass and TWERK and who the hell taught this boy how to dance? The dance floor is crowded and Jeff and Blair have already made it more than apparent to me that I’m welcome to join them in their bed tonight, and I might if I can figure out a way to do it without Dylan getting mad or finding out about it, but I am so pissed at Joni fucking Gaylord that I can’t wait to get back to San Felice this weekend and fuck her brother’s boyfriend.
Damn, it is a small world.
So I am going to fuck her brother’s boyfriend and I am going to fuck her best friend.
Although having a three-way with Jeff and Blair…
I look over at them. They’re dancing, sweat glistening on their bodies, and they aren’t wearing underwear and I can see the cracks of their asses and how their torsos both have the deep V’s from the hip bones down into their crotches, and they are both really good looking and ripped and I know Jeff did porn when he was still in college—I think I may have even seen some of it he has a big dick if I did see it I think it was filmed in Palm Springs and Jordy told me about it and he wouldn’t lie and the more I see Jeff the more I think I have seen his porn and I can feel my dick getting hard inside my shorts and the way Dylan is shaking his ass in front of me isn’t helping I could just rape that hot little ass here on the dance floor and Jordy is dancing with some Latino-looking muscle boy just to the side of us and this is wonderful, the most fun I’ve had in a long time and the bumps of coke Blair and Jeff have given me haven’t hurt in that regard either although I wish we had some Molly I wonder if Dylan would do Molly and now he’s brushing my dick with his hard little ass and my balls are aching and he’s now actually grinding into me the little fucking tease and I grab his hips and grind my own crotch against his ass and he looks back over his shoulder and he smiles at me and sweat is pouring down his face and sweat is dripping off my chin onto his back and his skin feels slick and moist and soft with water and now Jeff is behind me and I can feel his dick through our shorts and it’s a big one all right it was definitely him and that’s all there is to it I am definitely joining them in their room tonight and I am so horny oh my God I could fuck anyone right here and right now and now the lights are coming up as the music stops and it’s time to go back to the house.
Jeff whispers into my ear, “Want to join me and Blair?”
I grin back at him and nod, and out of the corner of my eye I can see Dylan has a weird look on his face.
He’s jealous.
It’s working.
We head back to the house and I go upstairs and down the hall to Jeff and Blair’s room and they are undressing me and both of their mouths are working on my dick and it feels amazing and then Blair is tonguing my ass and my God it feels fantastic and then the poppers are being pushed under my nose and I inhale deeply and my dick gets harder and I can feel my heart pounding in my ears and my dick is straining as Jeff deep-throats it and he is licking the head of my dick and then we are in the bed together and Blair is sucking my dick and Jeff is fucking him in the ass and I put my hands back behind my head and I watch as Blair goes to town and every once in a while Jeff pounds him so hard that my cock pops out of his mouth with a strand of spit connecting the head to his tongue still and he smiles at me and goes back down on me and then we switch again, now I’m fucking Blair while he sucks Jeff and Jeff’s dick is horse-like it’s so big and the poppers are under my nose again and I’m inhaling and Blair’s ass is amazing it feels so good on me and Jeff’s dick slips out of his mouth my God that thing is huge and Blair is moaning and breathing hard and then he is blowing a load out onto Jeff’s chest and right after that I am coming too and it feels so amazing like the head of my dick is going to blow right off and my balls are going to explode and this is so amazing and now we are both working on Jeff’s gigantic dick with our mouths and now he is coming and they are wiping me down with a towel and I pull my shorts back on and they ask me to stay but I shake my head and I step back out into the hallway and the door to Dylan’s room is open and he is standing there in the doorway glaring at me and I just shrug and smile back at him and go to my room and shut the door behind me and laugh to myself.
I got off and he’s jealous.
He wouldn’t be jealous if he didn’t have feelings for me.
He will be mine before the end of the summer.
DYLAN I hate to fly. I hate airports.
And I hate traveling with Brandon Benson.
It’s been two days since I saw him coming out of Jeff and Blair’s room, and the smirk he gave me…God, I’m so stupid.
I can’t believe I was starting to think he wasn’t everything I’d heard about him.
I’ll never doubt Joni again.
I don’t know what kind of twisted game he was playing with me, but I don’t care.
I’m just glad I now see him for what he is.
I just regret I let him change his flight to San Felice so we would be traveling together.
So now I am stuck with him. We rode the ferry to Sayville together, took the LIRR in to JFK together, and now are sitting in the airport at the gate together. We have a three-hour flight to Houston, then an hour change there, then another four hours to San Felice. We’re sitting together on the flights, too. I’m not being rude, I can’t be,
it’s just not who I am as a person, but I am trying to keep the conversation to as bare a minimum as I can.
That smirk. I just can’t forget that smirk on his face when he knew I’d caught him.
It makes me itch to punch him.
I’m not a violent person. The way I am reacting to this bothers me.
I guess I don’t like being taken for a fool.
I’m usually such a good judge of character, too. I guess that goes to show just how right Joni was about him.
“You’re awfully quiet,” he says.
“Don’t have much to say.”
I spent most of yesterday avoiding him with varying degrees of success. The house is big but it’s not that big, and I had to eat. I didn’t go out to the pool. I didn’t need to see Jeff and Blair and Brandon smiling at each other knowingly. I liked Jeff and Blair, they both seemed nice when they first arrived, but how can they do that sort of thing? Don’t they love each other?
I don’t understand open relationships. I don’t think I ever will.
I shouldn’t judge, I know. Some of the comments on my monogamy essay at Out called me at best a self-righteous puritan, and I will not repeat what the nastier ones said, but they were hurtful. My editor told me to ignore them and not to engage with anyone. It was hard, though, some of the comments were so mean and nasty and personal. But it made me realize what it felt like to be judged. If that was their intent, then it worked. So I shouldn’t judge Jeff and Blair. It works for them, great. Life and freedom are about choices, the ability to make choices, and if they choose to bring someone else into their relationship for sex, that’s their right.
I just wish it wasn’t Brandon.
“You’re mad about the other night, aren’t you?”
He says it softly, so softly I barely hear it over the hubbub of a crowded airport.
Okay. “I don’t have a right to be mad,” I say, not looking at him but very aware of how close our bare legs in our shorts are to each other in the waiting area. “You’re free to do whatever you want. Or whomever.” I can’t resist adding that but shouldn’t have.