Sharp Edges: An Urban Gay Romance

by Moreau, Lenore

  "There aren't any good ones. We're all assholes. There are just the ones who'll hit you and the ones who won't. Next time, pick one who won't." She shoves me off, but there's almost a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Hey. You deserve better."

  "God, okay. Enough with the protective older brother shit. Did you beat up Carl? He didn't do anything."

  "Nah, I didn't. He's in juvie, you didn't hear?"

  "Fuck, really? God fucking dammit, I liked him." I lean my head back onto the pillows, closing my eyes.

  "Like I said, no good ones."

  "What's up with you? You've been weird the last few days." I frown but don't move.

  "Weird how?"

  "You're like- smiling and shit. I haven't seen you smile that much in- shit, in forever." I think about it, confused.

  "I guess I've had a couple good fights. Always puts me in a good mood," I say slowly. "I dunno."

  "Well- it's weird. And I don't know if I like it or not," she says, hitting my arm. We sit in comfortable silence for a moment. "G- if you wanna talk about anything, I'm here. No judgment, okay?"

  "Don't start acting like a girl now, you've been avoiding that your whole life."

  "Oh, fuck you. I just want to hear about the new girl you're obviously boning." I flip her off and go to my room. Sitting hurts. Laying on my back hurts. A reminder of something I sure as fuck don't want to be reminded of. I lay on my stomach, and on impulse pull out my phone.

  Don't think I'm gonna be able to sit tomorrow.

  I throw it on the bed and take a long shower, trying to forget what happened. A week ago my life was so simple. I did my job and my side job then fucked all the hood girls that'd let me get my dick wet. Now? My ass is sore and my brain is fucked. And worst of all, I want nothing to do with pussy, even when it's dripping in front of me. Maybe it's like those psycho Christians say. Being gay is an addiction. Not that I'm fucking gay. Still, I can't keep the smile off my face when I see that Kelly texted me back.

  Good. You any good with your hands?

  The fuck does that mean? I ask.

  Not gay shit. Shop's hiring. 14/hr, you game?

  Fourteen bucks an hour? I'd almost suck cock for that. Almost. I'm barely making eight now. Being around Kelly that much though. That could be bad for me. He's a cool guy, but being around a fag could turn me into one whether I want to be or not. Still. That's enough money to risk it. And anyway, I fucking know I'm straight. Even being around a guy like Kelly can't change that.

  Okay.

  Friday comes around too soon. My dad's gone again, so Manny and Marco are smoking in the living room, passing around Marco's ancient dirty bong.

  "Yo, coming out with us tonight?" Manny asks.

  "Can't. I've got plans. Give me a hit." I suck the smoke in, watching the water bubble. I blow it out in rings at Marco's face. He brushes them away, giving me his typical good-natured grin.

  "New girl, huh?"

  "Something like that."

  "Good in the sack?"

  "I've had worse." They both smirk at me, looking proud. God, if they only fucking knew.

  I'm feeling happily high by the time I get to Kelly's place, and the world is warm and comforting. The house is full, and the kids I saw last time I was here are gone. Hopefully with a sitter, not DCPS. Instead, it's full of teenagers in various states of undress, cheap beer in their hands. Some shitty pop band's blaring into the room, and the whole place smells like skunk and hops. I grab a joint from a kid's hand and walk through the room.

  "What the fuck, man?" he asked.

  "I'll pay you back when your balls drop," I say, taking a long drag. "At your age, this shit fucks your brain."

  Look at me being a good fucking samaritan. I scan the room. Lots of kids I know. The kids Christian hangs around with. They're all too shit-faced to walk straight, and I grin. Could be the weed, could be the sight of them but either way, it's pretty fucking funny. Fucking high schoolers, man. I spot Kelly on his stairs and push my way through, offering him the joint.

  "Wasn't sure you'd come," he said, taking a puff and handing it back. "Total shit show, though, like I told you. Half these kids have never heard of limits."

  "I never miss a chance for free weed," I say through a mouthful of smoke. "Or a chance to make fun of my brother's friends. He here?"

  "You think I know who your brother is?" Kelly asks.

  "Don't you?" He grins.

  "Yeah, okay. Haven't seen him." We watch the party. There's two kids dry-humping on the couch, their clothes coming off one item at a time. A game of strip poker's mid-way through at the table, and I spot a couple of them that look way too fucked up to just be drunk or high off weed.

  "It's gonna turn into a fucking orgy in here."

  "Yeah, I'm worried we'll get arrested for watching underage porn. C'mon, we'll hide in my room. I keep the good shit locked up in there anyway." He pulls out his keys and opens the door.

  "What, does your brother steal?"

  "Which one, Carl? Nah. That's for my dad when he's around. Junkie. We haven't seen him in a few months, but it's always good to be safe. Lock it behind you. Ariel's friends might come looking for a place to bone." We sit on his bed as he loads his pipe with bright green weed. They can probably smell it from the highway.

  "You weren't kidding about the good stuff."

  "What, did you think I lured you here without good weed? Tough guy like you-you'd try to kick my ass."

  "Wouldn't just be trying," I say, but I answer his grin. "How many of em do you have? All those little things running around last time your family's?"

  "Most of the ones you saw're my sister's kids. I've got four sisters and two brothers. Youngest's eight. Oldest is me. Most of em are half-siblings. Arden's got two kids. She doesn't live here except when she's fighting with her husband. Which honestly is almost half the time."

  "Shit, you running your mom's daycare?"

  "Figure somebody has to, right?" No wonder he's still broke at fourteen bucks or more an hour. "What about you? Besides Lina and Christian."

  "You know their names? Stalker."

  "Hey, they're friends with mine." He shoots me that dumbass disarming grin again and hands me the pipe. "You can have the greens."

  "Generous for a snatch-head." He snorts as I take a hit.

  "Snatch-head? That's not even a good one."

  "Fuck off, I'm high." We smoke the bowl together, and by the time we're done, my head's buzzing pleasantly. "I've got seven."

  "What?" he asked. Maybe it's been long enough that I shouldn't still remember the conversation. I can't fucking tell time right now. Or maybe he's just high.

  "Seven siblings. Two older, five younger. But the youngest boys live with their mom's family. They're better off." He nods slowly, then falls back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. I fall with him. "My ass still fucking hurts, by the way." His head turns mine. His stupid mouth is lit into a huge grin.

  "I guess I make quite an impression."

  "Yeah, very fucking funny," I say. Our faces are so close. My body's warm and compliant, and the weed's starting to make me horny. I want to reach over and touch him. And right now I don't care that that seems gay. I must really be high. "Wanna mess around?" Kelly laughs.

  "Yeah, I do. But I promised to uphold your honor, remember? You made me swear not to fuck you." His grin turns evil. "And I never break my promises."

  "Fuck that shit, man, I want you to now."

  "Sorry. I'm a man of my word." I scowl. He scoots closer to me and our arms brush against each other. Another wave of hot desire runs through me.

  "Don't fucking try to hold my hand or anything." He doesn't. "C'mon, I didn't mean it when I said don't fuck me. You know I didn't mean it."

  "Oh, I know." He rolls on top of me and I can't hold back a groan. The sudden contact right now feels almost better than sex. "Next time, don't say it." He hops lithely off the bed. I gape at him.

  "What the fuck, man?"

  "I'm hungry. Want
to get pizza?"

  "Yo, can we fuck first and get pizza after?"

  "I'm getting pizza. You can stay here-" He throws his jacket on and shoots me a mischievous smile. "Or you can come with me."

  "Aw, fuck you, Kelly," I mutter. Still, I pull myself off the bed and tuck my boner into my waistband. Pizza actually sounds great. Not as good as sex, but it's a close enough second that I take it.

  We bring the pizza and eat it in the shed so no one else steals any. Kelly's got a backyard. At one point, this must have been a nice house. My thoughts are interrupted by the alluring smell of pizza. Half pepperoni, half cheese.

  "How the fuck are you a vegetarian living down here? That shit's for rich white people." He shrugs.

  "What can I say? I have a heart of gold." I snort.

  "Okay but really. Like what do you do for protein? How are you alive?" He rolls his eyes at me.

  "There's plenty of vegetarian cheap shit. Cheese pizza's cheaper than any other kind. Now veganism- that shit's for rich white people. I couldn't live without cheese."

  "Fuck, man, me neither." The high's fading now, but the food tastes fucking amazing. Cheap good pizza is hard to come by, but drugs help bad pizza turn to good pizza. We talk for over an hour, long after we've finished the pizza and ditched the box. He's a few years older than me, but still, I can't believe we've never run into each other before this. We live like four streets away, for God's sake. And this is a tight neighborhood. Almost everybody knows everybody.

  "I keep my head down," he says, looking almost bashful. "I do what I've got to do to keep the kids fed, then I hole up. Works, most of the time. With Arden's kids, it's harder, though. More mouths to feed."

  "So you're just a mechanic," I ask, raising an eyebrow. "No side shit?"

  "No. Fuck that shit, it's too risky. I can't risk getting locked up with everybody I'm responsible for. Anyway, Arden brings in some cash when she stays here. And so does Carl, when he's not locked up. Fucking dumbass thinks he's a hardcore drug dealer."

  "Kids are idiots," I say, grabbing a cigarette and offering Kelly the pack. "My little brother wants to carry a gun around. He's fucking fifteen. I didn't even start that shit till I was almost sixteen. And that's way too young if you ask me."

  "I mean Ariel, she's the smart one. Really, the only smart one of us. If she can make it through high school without getting knocked up or hooked, she might be able to pull the kids out of this dump."

  "How old is she?"

  "Seventeen. She graduates next year, as long as she doesn't fuck up." We finish our cigarettes. The high's gone now. The only thing left from it is the unbearable horniness. I feel like jerking off right here. Maybe then Kelly'd fuck me. Kelly raises an eyebrow, seeming to read my mind. I give him a look that's half needy, half annoyed. "You want to go back to my room?"

  "I thought you were going to protect my honor or some shit."

  "I promised I wouldn't fuck you," he says, walking past me and grabbing my ass for a second as he does so. "You're not high anymore. And I didn't promise I wouldn't do other things to you." I grin and follow him back into the house, which smells like beer and hormones. We push through the crowd and make it upstairs.

  "I'm not sucking your cock," I say. He shrugs.

  "Okay. Then I'm not sucking yours." I gape at him.

  "But you're a fucking homo. I thought you loved that shit."

  "Sure, if I get off too." He steps close to me and wraps his arms around my waist. "We can jerk each other off. C'mon, that way it's not gay. It's just giving me something so you can get off. Right?" I think about it. I'm horny enough to agree to anything. He probably could have talked me into sucking him off, had he wanted to.

  "Aight. But don't look at me." Kelly grips my ass, his chin pressing into my shoulder, breath heavy and hot against my ear.

  "I'm gonna look at you. You're hot when you cum," he says, biting my earlobe gently. I shiver. My cock's hard in seconds, and we rip our clothes off, throwing them to the ground eagerly. We sit on the side of the bed, and Kelly squeezes a dollop of lube into each of our hands. There's no foreplay, nothing to make this too intimate. Which is a good thing, I tell myself. Less gay. More just getting off. Purely sexual.

  His hand grips my cock, and I feel his eyes on me. I bite my lip for just a second as he starts to move his hand up and down, the sudden friction going straight to my head. I glance away, down at his cock. I tell myself I'm just looking so I can find it with my hand, but it's more than that. I love the sight of it, hard against his stomach, just waiting for me to reach out and touch it. Slowly my hand moves forward. It hovers in the air for a long moment, then grips him.

  My own cock twitches, somehow getting more pleasure from the fact I'm touching his. Weird. Again with this guy's fucking gay magic. Every nerve in my body is alight. He's so hard- so stiff in my hand. I give him a couple strokes, marveling at the way his veins feel beneath my palm. He groans, and I feel a tremor go through me like the sound has shock waves.

  "Fuck," I mutter. His grip tightens, and his rhythm meets mine. Soon we're both groaning with pleasure. His free hand reaches out and turns my head. My eyes open in surprise. He stares into my eyes, jerking me faster. I'm panting, barely able to concentrate on his cock. I can't look away. I'm caught up in green. Hypnotized. His mouth falls open and his eyelids lower a fraction of an inch. His cock twitched in my hand.

  "Are you gonna come?" I manage to choke out. He doesn't answer, he simply moans, his hips lurching up. I keep jerking him, barely keeping control of my muscles. He strokes me through it, then I'm coming too, clenching down as white coats my stomach. He falls onto the bed again, and I follow, finally letting go of him.

  "Jesus, you're something else," he says. Our arms are touching again. I don't really mind. I don't want to move. I'm too tired. And he's warm. I'm still cold from outside.

  "Yeah, you're not that bad yourself, Kelly. For a fag." I can practically feel him rolling his eyes. His arm slides around mine, and suddenly our fingers are interlacing. "Cut it out," I mumble. I'm still too fucking tired to move, and this asshole wants to push all my buttons just to prove he can. We fall into silence and I feel my eyes growing heavy. Maybe it's queer, but I like the feel of his hand in mine. As long as I don't admit it, it can't be that gay.

  "Gio?" he asks.

  "Yeah?"

  "I'm glad you came over tonight." I grin, then stop myself. I pull my hand away and punch his arm lightly as I sit up.

  "Don't get faggy on me." I glance back to catch his grin. I'm not disappointed. "I had fun. But look, I'm not gay. I mean it. This is nice for getting off but it's never going to be anything more than that for me."

  "I know. Fuck, man, we're good at getting off together. Let's just keep it that way. You can fuck your girls and I'll do my thing. And we can fuck." I hesitate for half a second. I shouldn't agree to this. Even just sex is weird with a guy. It's pretty fucking queer. But it's the hottest thing I've ever felt, the best I've ever had. I nod.

  "Alright. Just don't make it weird, okay?"

  "You're the one that's gonna make it weird," he says, looking up at me with those huge-ass eyes. How does a guy have eyes like that? It's not fair. My sister would kill for eyes like that. His eyelashes are a fucking Texas mile long. I look away first, cursing myself. Makes me look weak in front of the guy that already fucks me in the ass. "Hey, come in Monday if you want the job. I'll text you the address."

  "Cool. Bye, Kelly."

  "See ya, Gio."

  6

  My dad's home again when I get back. Thank god this time he's passed out on the couch, a beer can tipped over spilling onto the carpet. No big loss. That carpet's seen way worse. And the house pretty much constantly smells like beer. But having him around always puts me on edge. Like I've got to make sure things stay livable for everybody else. Most of the time Christian and Lina can take care of themselves, but when he's around, I get the feeling they can't. Maybe I'm not giving them enough credit, but I sure as shit couldn't
when I was that young. I pick up the beer can and toss it in the trash. Christian's passed out in bed, but Marco and Manny are gone, probably up to some shit they shouldn't be. Fuck, I wish I would have gone with em. Then maybe I'd be free of Kelly's spell. Still, I fall asleep quickly.

  Sunday I'm up before anyone else. Christian and Manny are in their beds, passed the fuck out. Marco's still out somewhere. I grab some cereal and down a bowl in seconds before heading into work. Harry's not going to be happy. He's behind the bar when I get in, and he glances at his watch before raising an eyebrow in my direction.

  "You're late."

  "Sorry." Not off to a great start. I might as well rip off the bandaid. "So I'm going to quit."

  "The fuck, Caruso? Why?"

  "I got a better job. Pays better, I mean." He sighs.

  "Fuck. I knew you'd leave eventually. This place won't run that well without you. Can you give me a week?"

  "Probably. I'll check. But I'll give you as much time as I can."

  "Goddammit," he mumbles. "You know you're the first guy I've had in a decade that doesn't drink all the product or steal from the register, right? Where the fuck am I gonna find another one?"

  "There's tons of kids around here that want work. There's got to be one or two good ones."

  "Fuck," he repeats, tossing the rag in my general direction. I catch it, making a face as droplets of gray water fly into my eyes and hit my cheeks. "What're you gonna do?"

  "Mechanic job. Figure I've been working on motors most of my life, so I might as well get paid to learn how to do it better."

  "Don't blame you too much. I'd do it too. You still interested in contract work when I've got it?"

  "Sure. We could always use the cash." He nods gruffly and lets me get to cleaning or at least wiping at the tables. I nod at Billy the regular, but he scowls at me.

  "You're quitting?"

  "Yeah. Sorry." He shakes his head. I look around. Three of the regulars are looking at me, shaking their heads. I don't know any of them well, but I realize I'll miss them anyways. They're familiar faces. Faces I've grown used to seeing every day. I'll miss this whole place. It's been part of my world since I hit sixteen. "Hey, I'll still be around. Just on this side of the bar instead of the other one." They don't look convinced. Neither am I, really.