Love and Other Hot Beverages

by Laurie Loft

  “So, now,” Todd said, regarding Sebby with a penetrating stare, “it’s about you and your guilt, not about me and my memory retention.”

  “It’s both. It’s everything. And one other thing: sometimes it’s good to get a second opinion. Someone who’s not involved can see, can tell me, ‘Yes, he’s great, keep him,’ or, ‘Hey, you know, he’s not so great.’”

  “And what of the bone breaker?” Todd said. “Did he sleep with them?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did he hit them?”

  Sebby winced and bit his lip, hard. “No. Just me.”

  “But he was a good thing you had found and were willing to share.”

  “Not . . . not . . . not after he hit me.” His breath quickened. “Barry and Lawrence tried to tell me. They did tell me, I mean. But I couldn’t see it, wouldn’t listen. I just thought they didn’t know him like I did.”

  “And so this line of reasoning fails as well. You do not value their opinion.”

  Sebby stared at the bottles of water still sitting on the table. How tiring it would be, how humiliating, to tell Barry and Lawrence that Todd wouldn’t go with them after all, how exhausting to go upstairs with Todd, who didn’t respect Sebby even a tiny bit, who thought Sebby was a whore, a wreck who’d never had a decent relationship. No wonder he thought about Vivian all the time.

  “You are concealing from me the true reason for wanting me to go with them,” Todd mused aloud. “And from yourself as well, it seems.” He stood and stretched. “No matter. I’ve grieved you, it’s plain to see, and, not wanting to break another promise so soon, willingly I go, if for no other reason than to see a smile return to your face.” The swift turnabout had Sebby blinking and gaping before Todd’s arms went tight around him, pulling him to his feet. “If to love you I must love them, so be it.”

  Sebby’s heart threatened to gallop off, as it did whenever Todd spoke heedlessly of love, but he reined it in and tried to breathe. Todd meant lovemaking, not love—two different things, things that often had nothing to do with each other. “It’s not a ‘must,’ Todd.”

  “You want me to go, I go. I begin to feel I can refuse you nothing.”

  Sebby’s heart was really not behaving itself, and then Todd was kissing under Sebby’s jaw and down his throat, taking his time about it, as if he didn’t have two pretty boys waiting for him in the other room. It was so difficult to breathe, and Todd stopped at Sebby’s collar bone, taking it between his teeth and then soothing the tooth marks with his tongue. “You’re quite certain you want me to go?”

  Sebby had been alone all week, and Todd’s breath on his skin was a torment. “Oh! You don’t fight fair. Yes, go, you can come back to me later, or stay all night with them, I know you’ll probably want to, but stop that, stop!” Arching against Todd and closing his eyes, he hoped Todd would take him seriously. Sebby didn’t have the will to stop him, and his friends were going to give up and leave, if they hadn’t already.

  Thinking this, Sebby’s eyes flew open, and he wriggled from Todd’s grasp, nearly fell, twisted away, and leaned back against the counter, breathing hard. “If you don’t go now, you never will. It’s not going to work, trying to kiss me till I change your mind . . . my mind.”

  Todd was grinning, the irksome boy. “It was worth a try. Right, then.” Todd drew a deep breath, and his face fell into tragic lines.

  “Smile! Don’t look like a martyr, you’ll hurt their feelings!”

  “I rather thought my smile was making you angry, cielito lindo.” His grin returned, and he approached Sebby, holding out his arms. “Good-bye kiss?”

  Sebby glared. “No!”

  “And off I go.” Todd clicked his heels together and bowed like a butler, the strange boy. He turned and went off down the hall. Sebby followed. Barry and Lawrence were curled up together in a corner of the sofa. They had turned The Descent back on.

  “Hmm,” Todd hmmed, taking in the content on the screen. The two turned to look over their shoulders. “Sebby, you do guarantee they’re not dragging me back to their lair to make quick work of me?”

  “Oh, we’d never make it quick.” Lawrence bounced up.

  “And you don’t, either,” said Barry. “We’ve been waiting forever!”

  “We almost left.” Lawrence took Todd’s arm.

  “But we were patient.” Barry took his other arm. “You can follow us in your truck.”

  Sebby intervened. “Barry, you go with Todd in his truck, so he won’t get lost. Lawrence, come here and I’ll give you some coffee. Todd has to have coffee.”

  “What Sebby means,” said Todd, “is that he fears I’ll make a getaway, if left to my own devices.”

  “No. I fear you can’t fuck without coffee,” Sebby said, and Barry and Lawrence tittered.

  “I really cannot argue with that,” Todd said gravely.

  Sebby had to push them out the door and drag Lawrence to the kitchen.

  “’Sup?” Lawrence demanded, hopping up on the counter and swinging his legs.

  With an effort, Sebby ignored the heels kicking his cabinets. “He likes to cuddle after, so make sure you don’t ignore him.”

  “Kay. What else?”

  “Don’t ever act like anything hurts, ’cause he freaks.”

  “Kayyy . . .” This with a puzzled look.

  “Um. If he gives you any trouble, just start kissing his neck. Hard, like to leave bite marks. It drives him wild; he can’t resist that.”

  Lawrence cocked his head. “Whattaya mean, ‘trouble’?”

  “He’s nervous about it. So if he seems like he’s changing his mind, just get busy on his neck.”

  Lawrence appeared to think this over. “You seem nervous.”

  Sebby shoved beans into the grinder. “Yeah. That he’ll ruin things, that’s all.”

  “Doesn’t he really want? Or don’t you want him to? I’ve never seen you act like this before.”

  “I think I might love him.” Sebby began to grind the beans, but the noise of it did not quite drown out Lawrence’s squeal. Lawrence dropped to the floor and threw his arms around Sebby.

  “Sebbyyy! Are you in love? Does he love you back?”

  Sebby kept turning the grinder crank. “He does, at least a little, but I know he’s not ready to say it, because . . . he still loves his ex.” Sebby scowled. “I thought I could make him forget him.” He shook his head and bit his lip; the grinder blurred in front of his eyes. “Make him want to stay, Lawrence. Make him forget.”

  “We’ll brainwash him,” Lawrence promised fiercely as he kissed the top of Sebby’s head. “The three of us’ll keep him so busy, he won’t know day from night. That motherfucking motherboard’ll be wiped.”

  Sebby laughed, and the sound of it was like a sob.

  “Sebby, Sebby, don’t cry,” Lawrence said, fluttering.

  “’M not. ’M just glad.” Turning, Sebby reassured his friend, bagged the ground coffee, and sent Lawrence on his way.

  Sebby curled up on the couch with an afghan and some soy crackers and hummus dip. Having turned out all the lights and set The Descent back to where he’d left off, he settled in to be scared, and was only a few minutes into his viewing when the landline rang. He glanced at the caller ID, and it wasn’t a number he recognized, so he let it go to messaging. Scarcely had the phone stopped ringing when it sounded again. Again, he let it go to messaging, but the same thing happened: it stopped ringing and began again. Someone was determined to talk to a human being. Sighing, Sebby paused the movie and picked up. “Hello?”

  “Hi, there. It’s me.”

  Collin. Icy-footed ants raced up and down Sebby’s back. “Oh, you.”

  “How are you?”

  “Fine. It’s very late.”

  “You’re up, though.” It was not a question. “I want to talk to you.”

  If Sebby hung up, he would just call again. Maybe if he agreed to talk, Collin would say whatever he had to say and that would be the end of it. “So talk.”<
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  “I want to know how you’re doing.”

  “Fine.”

  There was a pause, a noise of the phone being shuffled from one ear to the other, and then he spoke. “I want to tell you how sorry I am. I know it was wrong and terrible, and I want to apologize. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’ve never been so scared in all my life, and then I made it even worse by running away instead of staying to face what I did, to make sure you were okay.”

  The temperature in the room seemed to drop twenty degrees. Sinking, he pulled the afghan tighter around himself. “I know it wasn’t on purpose.”

  Collin’s voice warmed. “I’m in counseling. And I’m in a program. And we’re supposed to make amends to people we harmed. And that’s why I’m calling.”

  “Okay. Well . . . you can cross me off your list, now.”

  “I want to see you.”

  Sebby felt strangled. He put his hand to his throat. “Collin, no. I’m glad you’re dealing with your . . . issues . . . and I’m glad you called to apologize. But all that’s over with now. You need to move on. And I’m with someone now.”

  “Not tonight, you’re not.”

  The strength drained right out of him. He could hardly believe his arm was still holding the phone to his ear.

  “You sent him off with the twinkies. And you lied about him living with you too.”

  The affront jolted Sebby. He sat up straight. “Are you watching my house?” There was no answer, not even the sound of breath, and Sebby fell back against the sofa cushions. “Collin, this is so wrong. What would your counselor say? Listen to me. They have an after-hours number, yes? I’m going to hang up, and you call them.” There was more silence, and a pleading note crept into Sebby’s voice. “You’ve been working so hard, no? In your program, the steps, and whatever they have you doing—”

  “You’re acting like I’m a stalker or something,” Collin interrupted. “I want to see you, and I had to see this guy that you were supposedly living with. I just want to hang out. Can’t you even let me in to talk?”

  “I’m hanging up now. Do what I said. Don’t call back.” Sebby hit the End button on the cordless and pressed Call, listening to the dial tone, not wanting to hang up and hear it ring again. He leaned over, unplugged the phone, and switched on the lamp.

  He couldn’t call Todd or Barry and Lawrence, not after making such a big thing about them going home together. Ethan, maybe Ethan. He and Wayne went to bed early, but it was worth a try. He texted Ethan’s cell phone first, then Wayne’s, and finally called their landline, where he left a message. “It’s me. If you get this, call me right away, even if it’s late. Um, everything’s fine, just call.”

  Who else could he try? Leo! He was an insomniac, he might answer. He texted, Are you up?

  Sebby held his breath, but the response came almost immediately. Yes. Everything all right?

  Yea. No. Collin called here and creeped me out. Do u think u could maybe come over?

  What about your boyfriend? Call him.

  Sebby paused for thought, sucking at his lower lip. No Todd’s not available right now. I tried Ethan but it’s so late. Please?

  All right. I can’t sleep anyway.

  K call me when u get here so I know it’s u!

  He had just set his cell phone down when it went off, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. It was Leo calling, telling Sebby to call the police. Sebby argued. Leo told him to say he’d seen a prowler, no need to say anything about an ex-boyfriend. Sebby agreed in order to get Leo off the phone, but he didn’t call the police, only shrank and tried to disappear under his afghan. Could Collin see into the house? His eyes darted around the room: all the shades and curtains were drawn. Collin couldn’t see through them, could he? The doors were locked; Sebby always locked them.

  This was ridiculous. If Collin was still watching, Sebby didn’t want him to see that he was frightened. He hurled the afghan away from himself, knocking the box of crackers to the floor. The hummus container toppled, splattering the couch, the floor, and the afghan. Sebby pressed his lips together and growled as he gathered up the mess and the afghan. Intending to toss the afghan down the basement stairs to the laundry, he took three steps and froze, certain that Collin was waiting in the kitchen. It was the place Sebby had last seen him. A twinge in his arm made him wince.

  “There’s no one in the kitchen,” he said aloud. He marched through the house, switching on lights as he went. He dropped the hummus into the garbage, and continued to the basement door, where he froze again, hand on the doorknob, his eyes locked on the back door, which led out to the deck. The dead bolt was disengaged, the mechanism pointed right instead of left: unlocked. How could it be unlocked? He remembered locking it! Could Collin have gotten in the house—in the basement? Was he right there on the other end of the doorknob? Sebby thought he felt the knob turning within his grip; the door was going to fly open and Sebby would be knocked to the floor. Move! He backed up a step, eyes darting from one door to the other, when an immense bang sounded, the noise of it smacking his eardrums like a sudden increase in air pressure. Sebby cried out and skittered backward till his hip clipped the kitchen table, and he realized that it was the screen door banging in the wind. But he knew he’d latched that door, and it couldn’t have come unlatched unless someone had unlatched it.

  And then he remembered. Earlier, Barry had left the room to smoke, and he must have gone out on the deck, must have neglected to lock the door when he’d come in. Sebby’s breath was swept from his lungs as he wilted and clutched the afghan to his face. Oh, what a picture he was making for Collin, if Collin was watching.

  The screen door banged again, and Sebby jumped despite himself. Catching his lower lip between his teeth, he lunged at the door, dropped the afghan, and flipped the dead bolt. The screen door could bang until Leo got there. Sebby didn’t know how much time had passed; it seemed like days.

  What if Collin was in the house? In the basement . . . or upstairs, or in the bathroom, past which Sebby had walked on his way to the kitchen. Even now, Collin might be lurching down the hallway . . . Sebby whipped around, so certain of seeing Collin’s hulking form, that for an instant he did see it, black against the hallway light. In the space of time it took for him to draw breath to yell, the apparition vanished, and the air drained from his lungs in a deflated sigh. “Ay, Dios, get a grip. Collin does not want to hurt you, he said so . . .” His voice trailed off, and he jittered from one foot to the other until his cell sounded, and he was relieved almost to tears to see Leo’s name on the screen. “Leo?”

  “I’ve pulled in your driveway. Nothing looks suspicious.”

  “Oh, Leo, I’m so glad you’re here. Carajo, he was watching my house, he said he knew I was alone. Leo, he was watching my house!” Sebby flew to the door, tossed the lock, and threw the door wide. There was Leo coming up the walk in slacks and a button-down shirt, holding his phone and giving Sebby a little wave. “Mi casa es tu casa. Gracias, thank you for coming.” The words tripped over each other, filling the quiet night with babble till Leo reached the door.

  “Are the police on their way?” Leo took Sebby’s elbow and steered him away from the door, closing and locking it behind them.

  “I don’t need them; you’re here now.” Leo clucked but said nothing, and Sebby threw shaking arms around him, pressing his face into Leo’s shirt that smelled of fabric softener and cherry cigar smoke. “He was watching my house!” he repeated, the fear giving way to outrage. Leftover adrenaline ebbed and flowed, seeking an outlet.

  “There, there.” Leo put his arms around Sebby. “You’re safe.” He patted Sebby’s trembling form.

  “I’m safe,” Sebby agreed, pulling away with reluctance, letting his arms slide from around Leo and linger at his buttons. He smiled up into Leo’s face.

  “You’re going to have to get a restraining order.”

  Sebby grimaced. “Are you hungry? Want something to eat? Or some coffee?” His fingers stroked Leo’s buttons.<
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  “I could use a drink,” Leo allowed, and Sebby flew to his nice, bright kitchen. Leo followed and reached the Laphroaig down for Sebby, and he latched the screen door so it wouldn’t bang anymore.

  They went back into the living room with their tumblers of Laphroaig on ice. Sebby frowned when Leo seated himself in an easy chair rather than on the couch where they could cuddle, but then he simply sat in Leo’s lap. Leo shifted and patted Sebby’s back as he sipped his drink. Sebby took a long swallow.

  Leo cleared his throat. “Did you and your young man, Todd, break up?”

  “No,” Sebby said in surprise. He took another swallow, and the smooth, golden warmth began to leak through all his limbs. He slumped until he could rest his head on Leo’s shoulder.

  “Is he out of town?”

  “No.” It occurred to him that Leo must wonder why Todd wasn’t available on a Friday night. “He’s with Barry and Lawrence tonight.”

  “Ah.” Leo nodded and sipped, breathing into the tumbler.

  Sebby snuggled closer and smoothed his free hand over Leo’s chest and down his abdomen. “I like this shirt.” Leo was endearingly soft around the middle, after the manner of an older man who eats what he likes and exercises just enough to keep from getting fat.

  “You’re putting my leg to sleep,” Leo complained, his deep voice reverberating inside the tumbler of whiskey.

  “Sorry.” Sebby shifted his weight, wriggling indecently. “Better?” he murmured into Leo’s neck.

  “Not really.”

  Sebby shifted and wriggled more. He pressed a quick kiss just under Leo’s ear. “Better? Don’t want your legs to quit working. You might need them.”

  Leo stomped the offending foot, bouncing Sebby, who laughed and clutched Leo, spilling a small amount of whiskey down Leo’s front.