Dirty Laundry

by Rhys Ford

  Tiffany grabbed one of the intact cloves and placed it on the board. She put the flat of the blade against its plump curve and brought her hand down against the steel plane, slightly crushing the clove and popping its meaty flesh free of its skin.

  She gave me a look over her shoulder, one of confusion with a dash of sneering disgust at my bare chest. Nodding to the laundry room, she said softly, “I washed the shirts I got from Jae-Min. Probably one of them is yours, if you want.”

  “Ah, thanks.” Stunning her with my witty retort, I dug out an old rugby Jae’d stolen months ago and tugged it on. Returning to the kitchen meant talking with Tiffany, but short of moving into the wash room, I didn’t see any other option. After making sure my fly was closed, I headed back into the kitchen and, as casually as I could, grabbed a beer from the fridge and held it out to her. “Want one?”

  If I thought Jae’s derisive looks were withering, they had nothing on his sister, who put the full weight of her snark in her gaze. “Um, I’m seventeen.”

  “Shit, forgot that,” I said sheepishly. Looking back into the icebox, I dug out a few soda bottles. “We’ve got Diet Coke, Dr Pepper, and Sprite. Want any of those? Or there’s some of your brother’s iced green tea, but it’s plain. You’ll have to add some sugar to it.”

  She took a Diet Coke, popped off the plastic bottle top, and let it sit open on the counter. I joined the soda, taking up residence above the dishwasher. Her eyes bugged out a bit, and I sipped at my beer, grunting slightly when I swallowed. The air was thick with unspoken feelings and tight words. I went for casual, hoping to charm more than brittle politeness out of her.

  “Yeah, your brother gets pissed when I do this too.” I shrugged. “We’ve come to a compromise. I sit over here, and he doesn’t cook anyplace near where my ass has been. How’d you get in?”

  “You left the front door unlocked.” She sniffed, and the corner of her mouth curled up in disgust. “Guess you forgot about it when you dragged my brother upstairs. I guess you didn’t wait that long after we left before you sickos started fucking.”

  “Sweetheart, let’s get one thing straight,” I cut her off, gesturing at her with my beer. “What goes on between your brother and I is something very special to me. You can fucking hate my guts all you want because you’re a kid and your world’s still kind of black and white. I get that. But don’t you ever say anything bad about how much I love your brother or what he means to me. Everything else is on the table. Just not that.”

  She put the knife down, probably not trusting herself with it. I was within stabbing range, and while I might have outweighed her by about a hundred pounds, Tiffany must have known she was safe from any attack on my end. Not only was she a teenaged girl, I was sleeping with her brother. She could come at me with a Sherman tank and I’d have to lie down on the ground and take it.

  “We understand one another?” I pressed.

  She rolled her lips in, and for a moment I worried that I’d made her cry, but instead, Tiffany nodded once and went back to chopping up garlic.

  I wasn’t good with kids. Hell, my own sisters scared me. The only teenagers I’d ever been around for an extended period of time were Claudia’s grandchildren, and they were freaks of nature: well-behaved and polite. The only time one of them got out of line was in the hospital right after she’d been shot, and the family jerked on his chain pretty fast, reeling the young man in before he could tear into me. I wasn’t sure how to handle a bundle of hormonal nerves… much less female hormonal nerves.

  One thing I learned was God and Nature hated a vacuum. That same rule usually applied to people, especially teenagers. Leave something empty or silent long enough, someone would come along to fill it up. Tiffany was no exception. She lasted about two cloves before she cracked.

  “Do you… how can you love him?” The knife stilled, delaying the great garlic massacre. “You’re both… guys.”

  This was not a conversation I wanted to have with Jae’s little sister. Especially not with him still sleeping upstairs. I could have opted to take the coward’s way out, telling her to wait until Jae woke up, but something told me she would have an easier time talking to the big bad Gay Man sitting on the counter than her brother. I was… safe. Someone distant she could throw poop at like an enraged baby baboon when she felt cornered. Tiffany wouldn’t be able to do that with Jae.

  Well, she could, but she would end up breaking his heart, and for all of her teenaged angsty drama, she loved her older brother. Her world was fucked up because she found out Jae loved men, but she was struggling to come to grips with it.

  I only wished I had some answers for her.

  So I gave it my best shot.

  “I don’t know.” Problem sometimes with being honest was admitting I didn’t have all the answers, but it was all I had. “I can tell you it’s something inside of me. I can’t speak for Jae, but when I’m with him, I feel… good. Better than good. Like between the two of us, we can do anything. And when he’s hurting, I want to make everything okay for him. I can’t put it better than that. Not really. That’s pretty much what it is. Something inside of me becomes… greater… when I’m with him. He makes me more human… more than what I am just by being with me.”

  “And that’s the same thing as… a guy and a girl?”

  “Dunno,” I said with a grin. “I’ve never ever liked a girl like that.”

  Suspicion must have been handed out by the bucketful at the Kim house, because they used it liberally. Tiff’s sidelong glance at me was dripping with it. “Really? Did you try?”

  “Try?” I snorted. “I can’t count how many times I’ve wished I liked women. Hell, high school sucked ass. Do you know how hard it was to hide my… um… you know… behind a towel in PE class? Showering with a bunch of guys when men turn you on is not the best way to spend puberty.”

  “Didn’t you see a doctor?” She turned to face me, thankfully leaving the knife on the counter. “To try to fix it?”

  There was so much youth on her. Her fresh face was drenched with the arrogance of teen knowledge and a deep-seated belief that she had all the answers in the world if only someone would just listen to her. It made me wonder how in the hell so many of us survived to actual adulthood, considering our delusional pubescent state.

  “Doesn’t work that way, sweetie.” I was gentle in my reproach. “If anything, trying to change who you love just fucks you up more. It’s better to change who you are inside so someone can love you.”

  “But—” She was conflicted. No one handed out manuals on how to feel about things. I floundered with trying to make sense of my thoughts when I was her age. I’d fought against what the people who should have loved me unconditionally were telling me. In the end, they’d done more damage than good, laying minefields of insecurity and doubt.

  “Who Jae loves… isn’t what’s important. What matters is that the person loving him treats him right and treasures him for who he is. Isn’t that what you’d want for him? For your brother?” I asked softly. “I’ve got a brother… hell, I’ve got two now, and I can tell you this, I wouldn’t care whether or not they loved someone with inside or outside parts. I’d want them to be loved by someone who gave a shit about them. Because that’s what love is. That person… that one person that makes you feel like you can do any damned thing you want to do really giving a shit about you deep down inside of their soul. That’s love.”

  Chapter 18

  A COUPLE of hours and a very embarrassed Jae later, I was packing up the rest of Claudia’s blueberry pie and urging the Kims to take the king-sized inflatable mattress I’d bought for a camping trip. I left Tiff one of my suitcases to pack her things in when she was done with a video game Bobby’d left behind, then joined Jae on the front porch when he stepped outside for a smoke.

  Staring at the cement slab that served as my stoop, I sat down on one of the steps and nestled up against my lover. Nudging him with my shoulder, I grinned at Jae when he narrowed his gaze at me.
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  “I can’t believe you talked to her about… us. About me being gay.” That sensual mouth I’d seen wrapped around my dick closed over the end of his Djarum Black, sucking out a bit of smoke. “What the hell… I can’t—”

  “To be fair, we also talked about the fact she’s felt bad about telling you she’s allergic to cats when she’s not.” It was a weak defense, but I went for it anyway. “She only said that because she thought Neko was mine and it would keep you away from me.”

  “Did you tell her you’re allergic and tough it out for me?”

  “Hey, one little white pill with my coffee every morning is a small price to pay to have you in my life.” I caught a whisper of a smile at the corner of his mouth, and I leaned forward to catch it with my lips before it slipped away.

  He looked behind us, furtively peeking at the picture windows in case Tiffany was in view. I could see her in the living room, playing a dancing game he’d bought a few months ago, her eyes frequently drifting to where we were. Chuckling under his breath, Jae returned my kiss with a small, casual peck, staying long enough to swipe the tip of his tongue over my lips.

  “She’s going to see you,” I warned, but I savored the taste of Jae’s clove-spiced kiss.

  “I don’t think I care.” There was too much caught up in his exhale. Smoke and tension bled out of his body in a swirling plume. A tinge of guilt flushed through his eyes, and he ducked his head, his laughter turning on a nervous thread. “Okay, maybe a little bit. It’s… hard to suddenly… have everything out in the open. I’m not sure… I feel like… I’m laid out for the world to see me and I’m naked. It’s… hitting me a little bit hard.”

  “Do you feel overwhelmed?” It was a safe question to ask. If I needed to pull back from Jae physically, I would. I needed him to tell me how much was too much. How we were… how we acted… was totally up to him. “Whatever you need, babe. I’ll make it happen.”

  “This one… I think I have to do on my own,” Jae murmured, nodding to where his sister halfheartedly did the Dougie. She stumbled, and we lost sight of her head as she took a gainer to the floor.

  “Your sister… not so graceful on the dance moves there, babe.” I elbowed him, turning away to watch a plane’s tiny blinking wing lights disappear into the clouds.

  “That chest is hard to dance around. She should have moved it. It has those coaster things under it. It just needs a good push.” The tip of his kretek flared red. “I’m going to go back to the studio and have a talk with her about… us. Do you mind?”

  “No, I’ll be okay… you’ll be okay. That was a shitty book, by the way.” Smirking, I jerked my chin toward the car parking on the street near my driveway. “Besides, I think I’ve got company.”

  Ichi’s ambling stride was deceptively swift, and he was up the walk quickly. Despite the slight chill in the air, he wore another black short-sleeved T-shirt advertising a tattoo shop in Takeshita Dori—wherever that was—and jeans with more holes than fabric. Jae studied Ichi as he approached, noting my brother’s ink and a smirk that looked like it’d crawled off of my face and found a new home on his.

  “He looks like you,” Jae finally said.

  “Really? I thought he looked more like Mike.” Looking down at the frayed remains of his pants, I muttered. “But he dresses like you.”

  “Hey.” Ichi smiled at Jae and held his hand out for a shake. I could hear the slight differences between Jae’s tones and my brother’s. Ichi’s words had a staccato beat, sliding in and down as he spoke. I was more used to Jae’s rolling tones, rounded off at each of his sentences, dropping before rising up again. “I’m Ichiro, Cole’s… brother.”

  “I’m Kim Jae-Min.” He took Ichiro’s hand but gave a small bob over their clasped fingers. “I’m… Cole’s boyfriend.”

  I’d honestly never believed the shock of hearing something spoken out loud could render someone speechless.

  Boyfriend was not a word I’d ever heard come out of his mouth. I’d heard other words to describe me, and not all of them were complimentary. I called him my lover or boyfriend when speaking to other people, but he’d never really ever… outed… that word when referring to me before.

  For the next few minutes, all I heard was a high-pitched buzz punctuated by my brain repeatedly muttering what the fuck did Jae just say someplace near my forehead. They continued to talk. I could see their mouths moving and, further behind us, Tiffany flailing away at some dance move that had her flinging her arms out like a demented starfish, but beyond that, I was gone.

  “Cole-ah, did you hear me?” Jae’s worried voice punched through my daze. “Ichiro can help you translate the papers. He reads hangul.”

  “If you want the help.” My brother looked at me like I’d grown a second head. “Since Jae is leaving—”

  “You read Korean?” I must have sounded like I’d been dropped on my head, because both of them stared at me.

  “I learned Korean a long time ago. A lot of my customers come up from South Korea. We were just speaking it.” Ichi cocked his head and studied me carefully. “Maybe you weren’t listening… perhaps?”

  “Because Korean is so difficult to recognize when it’s spoken,” Jae scoffed at me. “It’s like birdsong or maybe the sound of cars passing?”

  “My brain was just elsewhere,” I muttered, lightly cuffing Jae on the shoulder. “Did you eat, Ichi? I think there might be leftover pizza, but I don’t know if it’s edible. And some of whatever Tiff made, I think.”

  “If you didn’t eat it for breakfast, then chances are it’s not edible.” My lover sidestepped another cuff.

  “Sure you can’t stay?” I asked. While the conversation Tiff and I had in the kitchen went a long way in lessening the tension between us, it’d spiked back up to prickly once Jae’d woken up and slunk downstairs. He and I both agreed she probably needed a little more time before we asked her to help pick out our china pattern.

  “No, we had a couple of good hours between all of us.” Leaning into me, Jae slid his hand over my ribs, a casual, intimate touch I’d have considered bold for him a few months ago. “I’m going to take her back to the studio before she gets grumpy.”

  “Grumpy?” Ichi glanced through the window at Tiffany. “She looks sweet.”

  “Oh, little brother, how little you know the mind of a teenaged girl,” I said mournfully. “Let me help you pack up the car, Jae. Ichi, if the pizza’s shit, I’ve can make you a sandwich or something.”

  Loading up Jae’s car earned me a brief kiss on the lips when I leaned through the driver’s side window to say good-bye. The kiss got me a disgusted hiss and an eye roll from Tiffany, who, in turn, earned herself a sharp look from her tight-lipped older brother. After promising to call me later, Jae backed the Explorer down the driveway and drove off.

  “Have you guys been together long?” Ichi had snuck up on me when I wasn’t looking, and I jerked in surprise. Laughing, he put his hands on my shoulders to steady me.

  “I don’t know,” I said sheepishly. “Not too sure when to start counting. I’ll have to ask him, but how the fuck do I work that into a conversation?”

  I ended up making Ichiro a sandwich that would have done Dagwood proud. I then had to explain who Dagwood was, but his mouth was full of meat, bread, and cheese, so I don’t think it mattered whether or not he understood me. I sat down on the couch and began to flip through one of the books Hong Chul gave us.

  “I probably should have called first,” Ichi said between bites. “You could have been busy.”

  “Nah, I figured Mike was driving you nuts and Maddy was out saving the world, so you couldn’t hide behind her.” He laughed, and I knew I’d guessed right. My brother… our brother… liked to pry and poke. A few hours in his company and a guy would begin to wonder if he’d somehow stumbled into an odd CIA interrogation. “Coming over is good. We can do that get-to-know-one-another shit we’d promised to do.”

  The folio I’d chosen was an address book. While the addresses
were in English, the names themselves were in Korean. A few of the places were familiar, and I recognized Gyong-Si’s immediately. Hong Chul’s grandfather, Bhak Bong Chol, had been meticulous and kind of a stalker. Under Gyong-Si’s address, he’d listed who appeared to be the fortune-teller’s assistants, both past and present. The last name was the only one not scratched out.

  “Terry Yi. And once again, why so many of the same last name? Too many Koreans are named Yi and Lee. It’s nearly as bad as Kim.” Ichiro gave me a look that damned me for being ethnocentric. “Look, I just have a hard time keeping track of who the hell is related to whom sometimes. My brain doesn’t work that way. Why did Bhak write that name in English instead of hangul?”

  “Terry’s English? The word, anyway,” Ichi said around a mouthful of potato chips. “Kind of hard to write that in Korean.” He wiped his hands on a napkin and dug into one of the folders. “What exactly are you looking for?”

  “Don’t know,” I admitted. “Bhak seemed to keep track of this fortune-teller from Seoul. Guy tries to pass himself as gay over here, but our English-named Terry told me Gyong-Si is about as gay as sugar is sour.”

  “Maybe he’s bi?” My younger brother shrugged. “Or at least curious about guys. I am. Well, have been. About some guys.”

  The chip I’d stolen from his plate caught somewhere in my throat and I choked, spitting up oily crumbs over Bhak’s papers. The sip of beer I’d sloshed into my mouth did little to clear it away, but the liquid washed away enough of it to let me speak.

  “Wait, what?” Coughing, I glared at Ichi. “You’re what?”

  “Curious… kind of.” He shrugged it off and went back to looking through the papers. “I’ve been with a couple of guys. Nothing too much, but it was okay. They weren’t anyone I was in love with or anything, so I think that would make a difference.”

  “Jesus, does Mike know?” I finished coughing and rubbed at my chest. The spasm jerked my scar tissue into a twist, and a tingle of pain rolled through me.