by Amy Lane
“See,” he said, looking at his clasped hands and ignoring the eggs smothered in ketchup next to him, “the thing is, my sister just left her asshole husband because on top of everything else, he was beating on her.”
Dex blinked. “Like, the sister with the baby with leukemia?” God. It was inconceivable. No one was that much of a fucker, were they?
“Yeah,” Kane confirmed and then stood up and started a leisurely pace around Dex’s newly furbished suburban dream kitchen. (Dex cooked a little himself, and he kept intending to take a class or something.) “I’ve only got one sister. Anyway, the thing is, I told her she could move into my place, but, well, you know how she feels about what I do.”
Dex put his fork down. “So? I know she kicked you out of her place ’cause she said it’s against Jesus or some such bullshit. But Jesus didn’t pay for her kid’s hospital bills!”
Kane shrugged like that was nothing, but Dex knew for a fact that Kane had worked two shoots a month for around eight months to make sure that kid got through her chemo so she could be healthy and grow up, and that Kane adored the little goober with all of his heart.
“My sister says she doesn’t want no pervert sex fiend near her baby. But I don’t want them being beat on either. And, you know, my place gots all that room. So I was gonna ask if maybe I could crash here. I’d help pay rent and everything! But you got a nicer place here, and I got the guys—”
“Guys?” Dex didn’t know Kane had roommates.
“Yeah, my pets. No cats, which is too bad, I always wanted a cat, but my guys are sort of reptiles and things like that. I just don’t want to leave them there. Lola’s afraid of those things, and some of them just need some care, and I’m afraid she’d let them die because she’s overwhelmed because the baby’s still got some healing to do, right?”
Dex realized his hands were shaking. “Your sister is kicking you out of your own house?” he said, his voice tight. “Does she have any idea how many times you bent over so her kid could have the best care? How many guys you had to fuck so that baby could be all okay? I did the schedule, Kane. Hell, I helped put diaper rash lotion between your ass-cheeks because Cam rabbit fucked until the lube dried up—”
“I can’t believe you remember that!”
“Shut up, I’m still pissed. Kane, how can you let her do this to you?”
Kane shook his head and swallowed, then started to run the water into the dish tub. “Can we just forget it?” he asked, his voice low and quiet. He didn’t do great with crowds of people he didn’t know, but one on one, Kane was usually a rabid, rampant extrovert, and Dex’s stomach twisted again when he added, “It was a stupid idea.”
Dex stood up and picked up his plate, then walked around the island and scraped the rest of the eggs—not too many; he’d needed the comfort food—into the garbage disposal. “It was a fine idea,” he said after a moment of them standing side by side. Kane had picked up the scrubber sponge and started to take care of the pan with the scrambled eggs in it.
“You don’t need this place full of cages and shit,” Kane said softly, and Dex thought of that moment in the dark, where his life had fallen apart and he felt about as low and as lonely as he ever had in his life.
I gotcha, sweetheart.
“It’s no worries,” Dex told him. “Scott hates animals. They’ll be better than watchdogs to keep that fucker away.”
Kane shook his head and chuckled wickedly. “Since you don’t got no more CDs.”
Dex groaned. “Aw, shit. I’m gonna have to buy them all again, you know that, right?” He looked at the clock and then swore. “But first I’ve got to get my ass to the gym. Chase is working out in half an hour, and I don’t want to miss him.”
“Why?” Kane kept doing the dishes, and Dex felt the absurd urge to kiss him or hug him or something, because breakfast had been such a sweet idea, even if Kane had wanted something and had been almost too shy to ask for it.
“’Cause he’s fucked-up,” Dex said soberly. “I know you’ve been working out with Tommy because I asked you to, but Chase is… you want to come with me and see?”
Kane shrugged. “Yeah, why not? And then we can go get my lizards from Lola.”
Dex burst into giggles. “You gonna write a song about that?”
Kane looked at him blankly. “Why?”
“Lizards from Lola—you know, Kane—it’s an alliteration. The two Ls?”
Kane looked at him and shook his head. “I’m lost. I have no idea what lizards and my sister have to do with music. Can I borrow some workout clothes and some clothes to put on after the workout and your shampoo and your—”
“Yeah, Kane. Whatever you need. You finish dishes, I’ll go pack us a bag and get you some clothes.”
Kane nodded, and on impulse, Dex turned back around, put his hand on the small of Kane’s back, and leaned in to kiss his cheek. Kane looked at him in surprise, and their noses almost touched, they were so close.
“What’s that for?” he asked.
For the first time, Dex noticed that his eyes were a true, rich brown, no green, no gold, very few black specks—just brown. They were solid and comfortable, and Dex swallowed, suddenly liking them very much. “For taking care of me,” he said softly. Should he mention them, bodies in the dark? Should he ignore it? He swallowed, and his voice dropped. “You were a real friend last night, and breakfast this morning was awesome. Thanks.”
Kane grinned and bounced on his toes a little, and Dex took a relieved step back. “Excellent! Does that mean I can pick out some more CDs? Because that shit you threw at Scott last night sucked!”
Dex grunted. “I liked that music.”
Kane shook his head. “Naw, man. Let’s get my guys moved in here and then I’ll treat you to some real music.”
THEY didn’t get to the music that day. First they worked out with Chase, which sucked, because it felt like someone had Chase’s brain in a little jar while Chase the robot followed them around and worked out.
“Chance, man, we’re over here!” Kane said urgently. Dex thought of him as Chase, for some reason, which was weird, because besides Tommy, he had a real solid sense of most of the models as their porn name and not their real one.
Chase was standing by the barbells, where he’d just spotted Kane for an obscene amount of weight on a scary number of bench presses. His tall, rangy frame was limp unless he had a weight in his hand, and his blue eyes were vacant. “Sorry,” he said absently. “I forgot we hadn’t done those yet.”
Kane looked at Dex helplessly, and Dex shrugged. He’d been like that since the breakup with Tommy.
“So,” Dex said, looking again at Kane, who grimaced, “you talked to Donnie lately?”
Donnie was Chase’s best friend and a pretty decent guy. Where Chase was sort of quiet and introverted, Donnie was just like Kane, all Tigger, and a little like Dex, all about taking care of everybody else. Dex liked Donnie plenty. He might be healthy for Chase.
“Yeah,” Chase mumbled. “We lost our last game. No state championship for us.” He managed a little smile and picked up a set of free weights. He looked carefully at Dex, who was doing bicep curls, and then mimicked the motion.
“Yeah,” Dex said, a little concerned. “You told me that a couple of weeks ago.”
The free weight paused midway from Chase’s waist to his chest. “That long? Wow. Hadn’t realized.”
“So what’s Donnie up to now?” Kane asked from Chase’s other side.
Chase’s gaze drifted to him, like he’d forgotten that Kane was there. “Donnie? I don’t know.”
“What about Kevin? I need to take that brother to Thirty-One Flavors again. I’ve never met a guy who can eat as much ice cream as I can!”
Chase’s mouth lifted up at the corners. “I should call him,” he said. “Maybe tomorrow.”
“Why not tonight?” Dex made eye contact with Chase and switched his free weight to the other hand just to watch Chase mirror the move. He didn’t know why he did
that—maybe because Chase was just so absent—but when it happened, he thought a little desperately that he needed a response, any response, to let him know this guy wasn’t gonna….
A thought tickled the back of his mind, a memory from a couple of weeks ago, when Tommy had made himself sick and Chase had broken it off, because Chase wasn’t really a bad guy and it hadn’t sat well to be with Tommy when he was with Mercy too. They’d stopped at a store after cleaning up Tommy’s apartment, so Dex could buy some Febreze and some baking soda, and Chase had bought razor blades. Dex looked at Chase now, noted that the blond, almost invisible stubble at his chin was long enough to show, and wondered what Chase was gonna do with razor blades.
“Yeah, Chase,” he said deliberately. “Why can’t you call him tonight?”
Chase thought about it for a moment, then said, “Mercy wants to go out tonight. Some club off of K Street. Fuchsia—you heard of it?”
“Yeah,” Dex nodded. “It’s about three blocks from Gatsby’s Nick. I know the place.”
Chase smiled a little like he was remembering something pleasant. “Yeah. I remember. Anyway, we’re going there.”
“How’s Mercy?” Dex asked, and if anything, Chase’s expression became even more vacant.
“Fine,” he said. “Why wouldn’t she be fine?”
“No reason,” Kane said, and he was jumping up and down on his toes. “Chance, Chase, whatever, are you on drugs?”
Chase squinted at him and put the free weight down after hardly any reps at all. “No. Why?”
“Maybe you should look into them. I hear they can make you happy too.”
For the first time since they’d gotten to the gym, Chase’s expression became animated. “Do you think that would work?” he asked, and Kane shrugged.
“Yeah, but you gotta see a doctor and tell him why you’re sad.”
To Dex, it looked like a door slammed shut, an iron vault sort of door, big and concrete and terrible. “I’m fine,” Chase said, making direct eye contact for the first time that day. “I don’t need to talk to anyone. It’s all good.”
He stalked off to their next routine then, and Kane looked at Dex with a furrow between his eyes. “Why don’t I fuckin’ believe him?” he muttered, and Dex shook his head and scowled.
“I have no idea.”
“Well, because he’s not really here, you know? He’s all funky and spacey and—”
Dex laughed and smacked him on the back of the head. “I know what you mean, you goober—I was being sarcastic.”
Kane’s mouth compressed uncharacteristically, and Dex realized with horror that he was a little hurt. “I don’t know when people do that,” Kane apologized. “They need some sort of sign or a light on their nose or something that says ‘this is when I’m being shitty and sneering at you.’”
Dex took all the puzzle pieces that he could see about Kane and did a flash reassemble. “I didn’t mean to be shitty, Kane. I’m worried. Aren’t you worried?”
“Well yeah! That’s why I didn’t want to use sarcasm.”
Dex nodded, because watching Chase move dispiritedly to the bench presses again, like he didn’t even remember they’d done those, made Dex think that sarcasm was pretty fucking overrated.
They left the gym and Chase went off to school, and Dex called Tommy before he even started his car—a big black pickup truck, fortunately for Kane—and told him about dancing.
“He’s gonna be at a dance club tonight,” he said without preamble as soon as Tommy picked up.
Tommy’s voice was bitter and sad, when usually he was so animated Dex had trouble keeping up. “So the fuck what?” God, he’d sounded like that for weeks.
“So I’m fucking worried about him, Tommy. There’s something not right in his head. He’s… you’re sad, and I get that. I get the being sad.” He didn’t tell Tommy that he was sad too. Funny—Chase knew about Scott, Kane knew about Scott, but Dex hadn’t wanted to bother Tommy about Scott, because Scott the douche bag seemed like such a minor consideration next to Chase, the lost guy who thought he was a douche bag.
“Worried?” Tommy’s voice hitched, and Dex let out a grunt. Kane was watching him avidly and taking in every word as they sat in the car, and Dex suddenly felt a little self-conscious, but he couldn’t stop now.
“What, Tommy, this surprises you?”
“He walked out on me—twice!” Tommy’s voice was a snarling, vicious mess, and Dex’s voice dropped to gentle accordingly.
“Yeah! Because he loves you. Look, I had to throw a CD at Scott to make him go away, and I’m firmly convinced that’s because he was having too much fun laughing at me to go on his own. But Chase—Kane, you psycho, give that back!”
“You’re getting all sappy,” Kane said, his nose wrinkled in distaste. “Tommy? Yeah. Look. Go to the fucking club and ambush him. You heard what I said. He’s hurting. It’s like being near him makes my skin crawl, he’s screaming so hard inside.” Dex watched as Kane gave an honest visceral shiver. “I don’t give a fuck about your pride, asshole, you gotta make that sound stop, he’s a friend!”
And then Kane hung up.
Dex stared at him, his mouth open. He closed it after a moment, and then opened it again, and Kane glared at him defensively.
“What?”
Dex shook his head. “Did you really hear him screaming?” he asked after a moment, and Kane shrugged.
“What would you call it?”
Dex felt like forming words was right out of his skill set. “I, uhm, I dunno,” he said after a few moments. “I guess that was it.”
Kane nodded like Dex had just totally affirmed his deepest beliefs. “See. Tommy’s got to make it stop. Can we go now? I sort of want to talk to my sister when the baby’s up.”
DEX looked at Kane’s spare room with some serious disbelief.
“Really?” he asked for what must have been the fiftieth time.
Kane had the grace to look a little embarrassed. “Sorry, Dex. But, you know. They’re my babies.”
“Not babeeth,” said the toddler in Kane’s arms. Frances was small, Dex thought sadly, and bald, and thin. But Kane said she was in remission, and all Fabiola had to do was keep feeding her veggies and doing healthy things—like not letting her douche-fucking ex-husband beat on her mother—and Frances would be all right.
And if that was going to happen, then they had to live here in Kane’s house, because Hector did not know where that was. And given the way Fabiola had glared uncomfortably at them both as Kane and Dex had stood on the stoop of Kane’s own house in the nice part of Natomas where the houses were huge and beautiful, the odds were good that if Frances was going to have a safe place to live, Kane was going to have to move out.
Dex couldn’t help thinking it: the whole situation was monstrously unfair to Kane. Dex wasn’t going to say anything, though. It was Kane’s family, and—thank God—Kane didn’t know jack diddly shit about Dex’s own hang-ups, so Dex didn’t have room to speak, did he?
So no, Dex didn’t feel qualified to deal with Kane being abused by his own family. But this, seriously?
“Really?” he said again, and Frances looked back at him, her brown eyes huge in that thin hairless face.
“Weallwy?” she said back to him, and Kane shrugged miserably.
“They’re my guys.”
Dex looked back at the lovely large guest room with the white carpet and the white walls and no furniture. Instead of posters or books or music or any of the things that Dex might have put in there, there were four big terrariums, one smaller terrarium, and a big-ass cage. Kane’s guest room was the habitation of lizards, turtles, frogs, and snakes, crickets to feed all of the above, and then (oh fuck, really?) a small cage for the feeding mice. There they all sat, with things slithering, skittering, spazzinating, and chirping inside. Dex tried and failed to count how many live creatures there had to be in that room, and then turned back around to Kane.
“You, uhm, want to move all of them?” he aske
d.
Kane nodded, and Dex’s stomach dropped. Kane’s normal smile—as happy as Frances’s had been when she’d seen her Uncle Carlos—was compressed into a miserable, humiliated, sheepish expression, and Dex realized that he was embarrassed.
When Dex had gotten his first couple of checks, he’d gone out and bought the big black truck of manhood (as Kane had called it that morning), and then he’d bought a house. Tommy had done the same thing, except he wasn’t really that into cars—but he was sort of a clothes whore. Some guys did stereo systems, some guys did big trips, some guys did blow and whores (but not that many of them, because everyone knew blow made your balls shrink).
But not Kane.
Kane did lizards and bugs. And Dex was the last person in the world to tell him he couldn’t, because who in the fuck was Dex to say it was wrong?
“I don’t see any heat lamps,” Dex asked after a minute. “How do you keep them warm?”
Kane shook his head, his brow still furrowed and that awful look of mortification on his face. God, he so obviously hated to ask for this. “They got heaters under their cages. The cages cost, like, an arm and a leg, but see how they’re all plugged in?”
Dex did.
“That’s so we can keep them at the right temperature.”
Dex gnawed on his lower lip and wrinkled his nose, thinking this through. “Okay, so Kane? It’s like fifty degrees outside, and threatening to rain. We can’t take these guys back to my place in the rain. What we gotta do is drive down to the Walmart and get a space heater—we can plug it into the jack in the back of the truck, okay? And we gotta get a tarp so we can make the truck all nice inside—”
“And we should get one for your carpeting and your bed,” Kane said unexpectedly. “I don’t want the cages messing up your shit.”
Dex nodded. “Good idea—that’s real considerate, thanks. So I’ll go get the stuff and you can stay here and visit the baby. I’ll be back in half an hour.”
The furrows at Kane’s forehead disappeared, and his eyes opened in a guileless look of naked gratitude. “Thanks, Dex. I’ll do anything, man. I’ll pay rent, I’ll—”