by Fred Aceves
“To go to the gym,” I say, cutting him off. “And I’m going to keep going. I’m going to the gym no matter what you say!”
These words just rip outta me.
His eyes get rounder than I’ve ever seen, anger flashing in them. “You want to yell at your father now? Yeah, I know all about it. I’ve been reading about how the drugs make you angry.”
“Drugs?” I ask, and move toward the computer screen.
He steps in my way but I can see symptoms listed on the screen. Symptoms of steroid use.
I start sweating like when I bike to the gym.
“What are you talking about?” I say as calmly as I can.
He points to the bed. “Shut up, sit your ass down, and listen to me!”
The cursing is a first. It shocks sense into me. I do what he says. Getting angry won’t help me one bit.
“I wouldn’t take drugs,” I say, maintaining my calm. “Why do you—”
“I told you to SHUT UP!”
It’s the loudest he’s ever yelled at me. What he does next is even more shocking. It leaves me dumb and breathless.
He picks up my stash from the desk, which I didn’t see because the stack of DVDs on the end was blocking it. The small plastic bag with the Suspension, D-bol, and three syringes. I jump up and grab for it. He swings it away.
“You’re taking drugs,” he says, dropping his voice on the last word. “Bringing this garbage into the house.”
“They aren’t drugs,” I say, standing right here. I’m getting that bag. Just as soon as I have a chance I’m snatching it. “Steroids are just hormones our bodies already produce.”
He leaves the bag next to the keyboard and takes a step toward me, closing the space between us. It blocks my view of the entire desk.
“I knew something wasn’t right,” he says, containing his anger. “That gym and that new friend? You wanted space and privacy, and look at what happened. A bunch of gringo bullshit.”
“Dad, you don’t understand. Just listen to me,” I plead. “Hear me out and you’ll get it.”
I struggle to form some kind of explanation in my head, but all I can think about is that small bag behind him. Which is mine. Not his. Which he has no fucking right to keep from me. He doesn’t even have my permission to be in this room, for fuck’s sake.
The fury and desperation is so big it’s not even inside me. It’s all around me, in this room. I’m stewing in it. It takes effort to focus on Dad and what he’s saying.
He puts a hand on my shoulder. “You’ll be okay, mijo,” he says with determination. “We’re going to get rid of the drugs and get you some help for your drug addiction.”
The words get rid of hit me hard, and the last ones, drug addiction, hit me harder. There’s no way he’ll hear me out and no way he’s getting rid of what’s mine. The rage swoops me up.
I shove him aside as hard as I can to clear a path for the bag. I take my first step toward it, already stretching out a hand to grab it.
His arm blocks me. Somehow he’s back. He snatches the bag from the desk and shoves me with one hand. I fly backward onto the bed like a doll.
“You crazy drug addict!” he says. “Putting your hands on your own father!”
My heart still racing, I push myself up into a sitting position.
His wide and thick body, those arms that can shove the whole weight of me away. I don’t care. I vowed to never let anybody fuck with me again. That goes especially for somebody who has what’s mine.
I don’t know if the room shrinks or if it’s the fury growing. It’s too much though, completely overtaking me. In a flash I’m up again. I rush at him, gripping his shirtfront with my fists, and keep rushing. I slam him against the wall. He lets out a pained groan and slides down the wall.
I bend down to pick up the bag. As Dad groans, I check the bottle of Suspension—it didn’t crack. The tablets of D-bol are still there too.
I turn to Dad, who’s writhing on the floor. My relief turns to fear. What have I done?
The door opens. Gaby’s face is wet with tears. She must’ve heard everything and now she sees what it’s come down to.
She sobs and hurries to him. “Dad, what’s wrong?”
The toughest man I know is wincing and groaning with pain because I’ve hurt him. It’s the most terrifying noise I’ve ever heard.
As Gaby huddles with him, pleading with him to get up, I remember the stash in my hand. I gotta keep it safe. What if the cops are on their way? If our fighting was loud enough for nosy Doña Carmen to hear, that bitch might have called 911.
With no time to grab anything else, I hurry out to the backyard and roll my bike over to the gate. Swing it open and pedal outta there as fast as I can, down the street and toward Alpha’s house, my brain heavy with what I’ve done and my heart pumping so fast it just might explode.
18
Eight days until school begins
SOMETIMES SOMETHING HORRIBLE happens that ends up leading to something pretty great.
Like half my life ago when Dad booted me out one extra-hot summer day and I ended up meeting Miguel.
Like how a slap across the face became a metaphorical kick in the ass, the push onto the path to greatness I needed.
Like leaving my dad’s house and moving into a place that I can truly call home.
At Alpha’s, there’s nobody nagging or supervising or asking annoying questions. I don’t gotta put up with teasing or snide remarks when I cook or heat up my muscle food. I don’t gotta hide my stash or who I am.
I guess you don’t realize how trapped you really were until you have freedom.
As I’m organizing my bedroom for my special visitor, it’s cool to know the room is mine. My desk. My bed. My everything.
The morning after I left Dad’s house Alpha drove me by the auto shop to make sure Dad made it to work. He did. I felt ashamed about what I’d done, but it was a relief to know Dad wasn’t in the hospital. And wasn’t at home either. I went there to pick up all my stuff and the computer.
Dad reached out two days after the incident to ask if I was fine, if I needed anything. I responded with no, just that one word. I was still angry. Now I’m less angry and more guilty, feeling like I should apologize but not ready to do it just yet. My thoughts keep landing on how he tried to take what was mine and boss me around.
Gaby is caught up in the middle of this, which sucks. If nothing else, I have to make things right with Dad so I can see her.
Anyway, although my new life is without rules, I make my bed today and tuck in the corners all nice, to impress Karina, who’s coming over for the first time.
I gather up the cup and plate from last night. That’s something I could’ve never done at my dad’s house, leave dishes unwashed overnight. I take them out to the kitchen.
“Karina should be here in about half an hour,” I say. “She got back from Miami last night.”
Alpha’s on the recliner watching Netflix. Even though it’s late morning on a beautiful Sunday. Even though it’s his birthday.
Day after day Alpha is either out here watching TV or heating up a meal, the only sounds being the drama coming from the TV and his fork scratching the plate.
Without moving his eyes from the big screen, he gives me a thumbs-up. “Cool.”
And it is cool with him. That’s freedom. I told him someone’s coming, didn’t ask for permission.
The house looks both better and worse since Mindy took off for good. On one hand, Alpha replaced the furniture. He bought it secondhand—and mismatched—when I went shopping for a bed in order to turn the office into my bedroom.
On the other hand, the place is a mess, which is all Alpha. There’s a T-shirt of his on a dining room chair and another rumpled beside the recliner since who knows when.
“I was going to get that,” Alpha says, barely moving his eyes from the screen.
It’s not the first time I’ve cleaned up for him. I figure it’s the least I can do since he’s not charg
ing me rent. He said I can stay as long as I like, that it’s nice having me here.
I’m practically the only person he talks to all day. Besides going to the gym for a workout and to check on how the renovations are coming along, he doesn’t leave the house. One of three newly hired trainers is covering what used to be his own shift during the day.
I work there evenings, as I’ll continue to do when school starts again. I’m not giving advice or anything—just making sure people use proper form and don’t get hurt. The money is consistent, unlike at the auto shop.
The coffee table is cluttered with dishes from two, three days ago. I gather them up—plates with crumbs and shriveled avocado skins. The bowls with bits of oatmeal hardened on the bottom.
I put them in the sink to soak. Then I cover Alpha’s box of gear, put it on the fridge, and push it way back against the wall. Karina knows Alpha takes steroids—how could she not?—but I don’t need her seeing them.
I gotta admit it’s the first time in a while that I’m actually happy she’s coming over. Not that it was a drag before. It’s just that since the summer started, I haven’t been excited to see her. It’s like my goal takes up all my time, and my gains give me so much satisfaction, I don’t need her like I used to.
Alpha has a point when he says the gym is enough. On most days it’s enough. Even so he needs to get out and have fun. He’s not hiding from the public like me, and moping around because he’s heartsick over Mindy isn’t doing him any good.
That’s why Karina and I are gonna take him out to his favorite place, Patio Grill. I’m excited because I’m finally big enough to be a little bit in public, like a restaurant.
First though, Karina and I will be kicking it in my bedroom. I haven’t seen her since I left Dad’s house, and we haven’t had sex since early May.
Okay, so that’s probably the main reason I’m excited. That’s easily the best thing about my newfound freedom.
A while later, with the house in order, there’s a knock at the door followed by Crockett’s excited barks.
Alpha surprises me by opening the door and introducing himself. “You must be Karina,” he says, inviting her in.
“You must be the birthday boy,” she says. “Happy birthday, Alpha.”
“Thanks.”
“Is that what you always go by or . . .”
“Yeah,” he says. “Just Alpha.”
I forget that his real name is Alfonso. Nobody ever calls him that.
“Let me give you the tour,” I tell Karina.
I lead her to the kitchen, where the counters are cleared away, the sink empty and shining. I open the back door to show her the small yard, the big red Snoopy-like doghouse where Crockett sleeps unless it’s a rainy night.
Then I lead her down the hall.
“And this is my bedroom,” I say.
How strange to call it my bedroom. It still makes me think of Dad’s house, which I try not to do. Though I’m glad I left, I’m not proud of what I did. I know I gotta make things right. I just don’t wanna think about it for a while, and keep forcing it outta my head when the memory of that evening pops in there.
“Nice,” Karina says, looking around.
The bright blue curtains were chosen by Mindy for what was the office, along with the wide desk, which still looks new. They’re super nice and make the bed and dresser I bought look shabbier than it did at the garage sale.
My Nightchaser poster is up, next to the extra-large mirror I bought.
My action figures are on a shelf. I could give a damn about kid stuff like comics and superheroes anymore. I just like the bodies on those figures. Like the Van Nelson poster, they serve as a sort of inspiration.
Done looking around, Karina says, “It’s sort of dark in here.”
Yep, to get a mood going. I’ll be closing the blinds completely and also shutting the curtains before we have sex. She can’t see what non-awesome things the steroids have done to my body. My balls are still hiding and my back acne is still bubbling up.
She tells me about the Greyhound bus trip yesterday, and how much she’s missed me. I tell her I’ve missed her too, even though the truth is I’ve been too busy to feel anything like that.
“So are we taking Alpha to lunch?” she asks, still standing, though she has the bed and a chair to choose from.
“We have time before lunch,” I say, hoping she gets the hint.
“What do you want to do?” she asks, her face blank.
“Well, let’s see,” I say, pretending to think about it. I scratch my chin. “We could play Ping-Pong or we can have passionate sex in various positions.”
Her eyes widen. “You have a Ping-Pong table?”
“Nope.” I shrug. “Oh well. Sex it is.”
She laughs. “Not with Alpha out there.”
“Why?”
“He’s going to know we had sex. Even if we just hang out in here alone for a while, he’s going to think we had sex.”
“What’s the big deal?”
“So when we go to lunch, the whole time he’s going to be thinking, ‘Those two just had sex.’”
Karina crosses her arms, done with her explanation.
“You’re crazy,” I say. “You know that?”
As if to emphasize how serious she is, she pulls the cord of the blinds. “Much better.”
The harsh light makes me squint. “You’re completely outta your mind,” I tell her.
I wanted to get Alpha out of the house for his own good. Now I’ll need to get him out of the house for my own good.
Karina takes a seat on my chair. “So this is really where you live now? Like, for good?”
“Yep.” I’ve already explained it to her, how I can’t live with my dad’s stupid rules.
“All because your dad won’t let you go to the gym?”
“It’s about me having my own life, Karina. My dad wanted to control it.” It’s the truth, though not the whole truth. She can’t know what actually went down. “Besides, I was gonna be outta his house and living on my own in less than a year. My plans got moved up is all.”
To change the subject I mention Universal Studios. “Did you figure out what time we’re leaving on Saturday morning?”
Okay, so now I’m just flat-out bullshitting. Because I’m not going. That’s money I can spend in better ways. I’ll just invent a stomach virus or something the night before to get out of going.
The five of them can go without me and I’ll see them all at school next Monday.
“Janelle says seven in the morning, on the dot, but you know how she is,” Karina says. “We’ll meet at her house, gas up, and then go.”
I pat the bed and make a motion with my head for her to come over.
She does and I pull her in for a kiss. We start making out. Man, I want her so bad. For the first time since summer began, there’s something more important than consuming five hundred calories every two and a half hours.
I hold her tighter. Just as it seems this might go somewhere she breaks away from me.
“Let’s go have lunch.” Karina is on her feet, smiling.
I think of horribly graphic stuff in order to calm the stiffening down there. Maybe she’ll change her mind when we get back from lunch.
We head out to the living room. I may never get used to Alpha’s big size, those thick slabs of arms and how he fills up that large recliner.
That’s what you should look like. Your body is nowhere near as impressive as that.
I shake that thought out of my head and focus on our goal at hand. Karina and I are getting Alpha out of that recliner and into the world. It will make him feel so much better.
Crockett is in his favorite spot, on the middle cushion of the couch. I sit on one side of him and Karina sits on the other.
Alpha pauses his show and hands me the remote. “You guys wanna watch something? I was just about to heat up some lunch.”
“About that,” I say. “We’re taking you out to Patio Grill.”
>
It’s one of the few places he trusts. You see them grilling without adding oils or butter to your food.
“For your birthday,” Karina adds.
“You can’t say no,” I say quickly, before he can protest.
I’m getting this guy outta this house. It’s my duty as his friend.
At that moment the front door swings open.
Rassle comes in, orangey-red from the sun as usual, carrying a supermarket bag. His stringy tank top shows just how much bigger he’s gotten with his cycle. There’s the alligator tooth, still lodged on the side of his right bicep.
“Check it out, bitches!” He brings up each arm to kiss each bicep. “Twenty-two-inch arms!”
With how big those arms are, he barely raises them a few inches to plant his lips on them.
“Hell yeah!” Alpha shouts, getting up to greet him.
I feel a tingling of nervousness. Alpha likes to monitor all the guys he hooks up with gear, takes pride from their gains like he does with me. He won’t mention steroids—the first and only rule of Gear Club is his, after all—but Rassle might let something slip.
They meet in the middle of the living room to hug like they just won a championship.
“Thanks to you, bro,” Rassle says. “And be careful with the tooth, bitch.” He heads into the kitchen.
“So that’s a tooth in his arm?” Karina whispers to me.
What a relief that she’s only curious about the second comment. “I’ll explain later.”
Jake comes in with a case of Bud Light in each hand. The gel in his parted hair is extra shiny this afternoon. His Superman T-shirt of the day is the original one—blue with the red-and-yellow S logo. “Happy birthday, bro.”
“You too, man?” Alpha says, grinning from ear to ear. “Hell yeah!”
Since Jake’s hands are busy he gives Alpha a hardcore chest bump. “Hey,” he says to Karina and me with a nod on his way to the kitchen. “I’m going to keep these cold.”
Karina leans over to say, “I don’t remember Superman having a receding hairline.”
Great, I think. The two guys who have come over to surprise Alpha are the biggest freaks we know. Why did Tower have to get his implants surgery last week and have to be at home resting? He’s relatively normal, a family man who would’ve made a good impression on Karina.