by KD Ellis
They drove several neighborhoods over to Teddy’s house. Here, the average family income was at least two zeroes smaller than the one they’d just left. Despite that, Teddy knew he was lucky. If his mother hadn’t gotten an inheritance after her parents had passed, they’d have been on the streets by now. Thankfully, she had bought the house outright when Teddy had been hardly more than a toddler, nearly a decade before his father passed and she started drowning her sorrows in a bottle.
Shiloh parked his car behind the rusty 1998 Plymouth Chrysler Teddy’s mother had bought the previous year, after she’d crashed their far-more-reliable Corolla. The Rustbucket, as Teddy called it, was missing the passenger side rearview mirror and a third of its fender. The vents insisted on only blowing out hot air, and two of the four windows didn’t roll down. Teddy was waiting for the day that the spring-laden seats succeeded in fully deflowering him. He didn’t count a few fumbled blow jobs and some half-assed fingering.
Shiloh, at least, was polite enough not to comment. He just grabbed his bag and followed Teddy up the porch steps. Teddy shoved his hands into his pockets and struggled not to defend the sorry state of his house. Shiloh had never come to visit before.
The house itself was a small but solid two-bedroom. The paint was faded but not peeling, the house number hanging by a single screw—but hanging on—and the yard was green, if overgrown. It could be worse. They could live near Rosewood, or over by Twelfth and Chicon, like they would if they were relying on their current income to pay for housing, instead of resting on the laurels of his grandparents’ generosity. Although both neighborhoods had been slowly getting better, he still wouldn’t want to walk home there at night.
Compared to the Beckett mansion, his house was a dump. Teddy’s cheeks burned as he twisted the knob on the front door and found it already unlocked. He held it open and gestured for Shiloh to go in first.
“Come on. You can throw your stuff in my room,” Teddy said, moving past Shiloh to lead him farther in. The entryway was barren except for the shoe rack against the wall. It opened into a short, narrow hallway. The kitchen was on the right, as was the dining room, though it was currently being used as a junk room. His mother’s old treadmill had been converted to a clothing rack—shirts that no longer fit, pants that needed hemming and mismatched socks dangling from the armrests. A few boxes of old magazines lined the wall with records stacked on top. They didn’t have a record player. He didn’t know what else was in there, since he pretended the room didn’t exist.
To the left was the living room. Teddy couldn’t help glancing in as he walked by. His mother was asleep on the couch again, surrounded by half-drank bottles and empty glasses. A mostly full pack of cigarettes sat near the edge of the table. Teddy wondered if she’d notice if he took them.
Instead, Teddy hurried past, taking the stairs at the end of the hall to the second story. “This is mine,” he said as he pushed his door open. At least he’d straightened up a few days before. It was messier than he’d have liked if he’d realized he was going to have company over, but his underwear had found its way to the hamper and his dirty magazines had been placed back beneath the mattress.
Shiloh dropped his bag on the floor by the closet and collapsed onto his back on the unmade bed. “I like your house,” Shiloh said, his arms flung out.
“It’s shitty,” Teddy corrected, going over to pull the blinds on the window, unleashing a bright stream of sunlight into the small room. “The only good part is the view.”
Shiloh rolled onto his stomach and craned his neck to see around Teddy out of the window. There was a three-foot gap between Teddy’s house and the one next door. His window looked right into the neighbor’s bedroom.
“He doesn’t close his blinds,” Teddy sighed dreamily, staring into his favorite place in the whole world…Ian’s bedroom. Not that he’d ever been in it, except in his dreams. Ian always kept it locked. Teddy used to think he had a superhero lair hiding behind the door. As he got older, he realized it was locked just because Lucas liked to steal his older brother’s shit.
“Creeper.” Shiloh grabbed Teddy’s pillow and chucked it at him.
Teddy ducked, laughing as the pillow hit the window and slid to the ground. “Have you seen him?”
Teddy’s excuses to visit had dwindled since Lucas had dropped out of school and started hanging with some sketchy kids, and he’d been left getting his Ian fix through the window. His neighbor worked as a bartender and, the last Teddy knew, he was taking online management classes, which was why he still lived at home. Teddy hoped he never moved out.
“You could leave him notes on the window if you want to go full stalker,” Shiloh mused, folding his arms like a pillow beneath his chin.
Teddy’s cheeks flamed. He had a stack of sticky notes on his desk, and he couldn’t honestly say that they’d never made their way onto the glass.
“Oh, you already leave him notes, don’t you?” Shiloh chuckled. “Oh, Ian, I wanna suck your—”
“I do not say that!” Teddy burst out, embarrassed. He’d certainly thought about it often enough.
“Oh, Ian, I left my back door unlocked for you. Come pound me into the mattress,” Shiloh rolled onto his back, fisting the sheets as he grinned like a maniac.
“I don’t sound like that!” Teddy grabbed the pillow and chucked it at his friend.
“Oh, Ian!” Shiloh continued moaning, but Teddy stopped listening as he caught movement through the window out of the corner of his eye. He turned to find Ian staring at him, a smirk on his perfectly formed lips. He was shirtless, every ridge of his muscles on perfect display, his jeans riding low on his sharp hips. The button was undone, leaving a V of tan skin that drew Teddy’s eye before he could help it.
He couldn’t tear his gaze away until Ian moved, stepping closer to the window and wrenching it up. He leaned on the frame with a smirk. Teddy’s skin heated further when Ian pointed at Teddy’s window, clearly laughing, and waved his hands like he was gesturing for Teddy to follow.
“Be quiet,” Teddy said to Shiloh before struggling to push up on the glass. It hadn’t been opened in forever. Not since he’d repainted his room, at least, and apparently he’d managed to paint the window shut. It cracked as the window snapped up.
Shiloh smothered his laughs in the pillow. He was thankfully out of sight.
Ian smirked. “Get your phone out.”
Teddy’s heart thumped in his chest. Why did Ian want his phone? Was he finally going to give him his number? Teddy had tried to be subtle in his crushing, but maybe Ian had noticed anyway. Ian was observant. He grabbed his phone and waved it as proof.
“Does it have a camera?” Ian asked.
“Um…yeah.” Teddy fiddled with the app, brow lowering as he wondered why he needed it.
“Good. Why don’t you take a picture?”
“Of…of you?” Teddy stuttered, face flushing.
Ian just smirked. “Well, unless you’d rather take one of my bedroom. I can just step out of frame…”
Ian went to step back but Teddy, half shouted, “Wait!” He snapped a photograph of the drop-dead gorgeous man before he could move too far.
“Got it?” Ian asked, brow lifting.
Teddy nodded, his phone clasped in his hand.
“There. You can stare at that next time you get the…urge to peek.” Ian winked then retreated into his own room, laughing as he closed the window.
Teddy… Well, now Teddy had to go shove his head in the oven and just die. He slammed his window closed and, for good measure, tugged down the drapes.
“You are so busted,” Shiloh teased.
Chapter Five
Ian laughed at the expression on Teddy’s face as he slammed the window shut. The shocked embarrassment was nearly as amusing as the lust that had preceded it.
Ian finished getting dressed and left his room—and his not-so-secret admirer—behind. Following the sound of laughter, he made his way to the kitchen. The back door was open to the small patio that comp
rised much of the back yard. Mama leaned against the doorframe, a cup of black tea in her hand. She was smiling fondly.
She turned to look at him as he entered, her smile brightening.
“Mama.” He leaned down to kiss her right cheek in greeting.
“Mijo. I made tea.” She gestured to the kettle on the stove.
Ian made himself a cup and carried it over to stand beside her, following her gaze into the back yard. It wasn’t large, and the patio swallowed most of it, but the little bit of property they called their own was enclosed in a white picket fence. His mother had insisted on it when she and his father had first immigrated from Bolivia, several years before Ian had been born.
“She’s growing like a weed,” Ian said, watching his sister dance. Noa was thirteen, though in his mind she was still barely knee-high. He still expected to see her gap-toothed smile when she looked at him. Instead, she looked far too old in her pink-striped leggings and racer-back tank top, her MP3 player tucked into the pockets. White earbuds traced their way up to her ears. Her face was fixed in concentration. Her heels sank into the dirt with each step.
“She wants to dance for the talent show,” Mama murmured, voice proud. “And she chose the Caporales.”
Ian remembered learning it at her age and wondered if he could still do it. He knew he couldn’t fit in the shoes, for sure. The low-heeled boots had bells on the ankles. He’d worn them everywhere for a month.
Noa ended with a flourish and Ian and his mother both clapped loudly. Noa grinned, bounded up the stairs and threw her arms around Ian’s waist. “Did you like my dance?”
“Of course, hermanita.” Ian ruffled her dark hair, careful not to disturb the handful of colored ribbons she had strung through the braid.
She beamed up at him. “You’ll come to the show, right?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Ian promised. He was about to ask when it was when he heard the thundering of footsteps down the stairs, followed by the front door slamming.
Mama sighed and muttered a prayer below her breath. “That boy, I swear.”
“I’ll go talk to him,” Ian replied. Mama had flatly refused to even consider hearing him out about Lucas going to rehab. ‘Not my baby,’ she’d said. Ian supposed he’d just have to do his best to bring his brother around on his own.
“Tell him I’m making saltenas,” Mama said as Ian placed his cup in the sink and headed for the front door.
His younger brother was several feet down the sidewalk. Ian shook his head as he hurried to catch up. It had been bad enough when Lucas had dropped out of school the past year, only a handful of months from graduating. Ian blamed it on the hooligans his brother called friends. Most of them came from broken families, so it was hard to blame them for taking to the streets, but Lucas didn’t have that excuse.
“Lucas!” Ian jogged up beside him, grabbing his brother’s arm to get his attention. “You didn’t say goodbye to Mama.”
Lucas rolled his eyes. “It’s not like I’m moving or nothing.”
“Where are you going? I know you don’t have a job.”
Lucas glowered, crossing his arms. It made him look like a child preparing to throw a tantrum. In his defense, however, he was. “I could have a job…if I wanted one.”
“But you don’t. You spend all day roaming town with your merry gang of assholes while Papa pays your rent and you don’t even have the decency to kiss Mama goodbye.”
Ian was tired of his younger brother’s tantrums and childish rebellions. He’d skipped from throwing fits to petty theft and vandalism. Just last week, the police had picked him up at a convenience store. Even if it wasn’t for the fact that it gave all of them a bad name, it pissed Ian off personally because it was so stupid. Their parents made good money. Lucas still got an allowance, though he did no chores and didn’t look for work. He could have paid for the stupid DVD if he’d wanted it so bad, but he’d stolen it just for street cred.
“You’re not Papa, so fuck off, yeah?” Lucas turned his back on Ian and started down the sidewalk, his shoulders set.
Ian grabbed his brother’s arm and spun him around, anger flaring. “No, I’m not Papa. I can still put you on your ass, though.” Ian wasn’t prepared for his brother to cock back his fist and let it fly toward his face. It struck him hard on the chin. Ian’s head snapped back and he winced, rubbing the already-swelling skin.
“Thought you said you could put me on my ass,” Lucas egged him on, his feet planted. He shoved Ian backward, but Ian refused to budge. “Well, come on then. Prove it, pendejo.”
“I don’t have to prove it to make it true. Come home. Have breakfast. Mama’s making saltenas.” Ian reached for his brother, who cringed away.
“Whatever. I gotta go.” The look Lucas gave him practically dared him to stop him again. Ian gave up. If his brother wanted to screw up his life, then so be it. He wasn’t going to waste his breath.
* * * *
Maybe Ian was biased, but Mama made the best saltenas he’d ever tasted. She’d learned the recipe from her mother, who’d learned it from hers and so on. She didn’t make them often anymore, since they were pretty much a whole weekend project, so when she did, he made sure to be home.
He helped Mama clear the plates after breakfast. His sister kissed him goodbye then headed out of the house to meet her friends at the museum. She said she was studying for a project. With only a week left before school was out, he suspected there was less studying going on then she pretended.
He knew Mama suspected it as well, but when he’d brought it up, she’d just smiled and shrugged. “She’s growing up. It’s good for her to get out of the house. I’ll be at my book club anyway.”
After his mother left, Ian grabbed his laptop and carried it out onto the front porch. Sitting on the steps, he leaned against the siding, his computer open in his lap. The sunlight made seeing the screen more difficult, but he learned better in the fresh air.
He was in the middle of a boring lecture on Creating a Culture of Health in Your Business when two boys spilled out of the house next door. They were both laughing. He recognized Teddy, of course, in his signature oversized sweater and jeans, but the second one was a mystery.
He wondered if Teddy had a boyfriend and immediately glowered at the thought—then had to kick himself for feeling something far too close to jealousy. Teddy was his brother’s friend. Even if he wasn’t, he was too young, only barely graduated. Maybe the four-year age difference wouldn’t seem so bad later. At the moment, staring after Teddy and his friend made him feel like a pervert.
He forced his attention back to the lecture as the pair climbed into the fancy car outside Teddy’s house and drove away.
Eventually, he gave up on the lecture and closed his laptop, resolving to watch it later when he was less distracted. Maybe his preoccupation with the boy next door was a sign. It might be his night off, but Prism was as good a place as any to spend it. At least he knew he wouldn’t go home alone.
* * * *
The nightclub wasn’t strictly queer, but over the years, it had acquired a reputation. Gays and their allies had commandeered it, drawn by the glitter and the rainbows and the relatively tolerant owner—an aging man who spent more time in his office than on the floor, but whose managers and staff waved more flags than just Old Glory.
One of the perks of tending bar there four nights a week was bypassing the line that weaved along the sidewalk. Some nights, like tonight, were busier than others. The bouncer, Zadrien, pounded Ian’s fist before unclipping the frayed rope and letting him through.
The club was dark. He’d seen it with the lights on and no amount of money could make him eat the food served, but he hadn’t come here for that purpose anyway. He flagged down Zak at the bar and ordered a drink. Glass in hand, he turned to scan the dance floor. It was crowded with college students on break and businessmen off for the weekend. There were more men than women.
One in particular caught his eye. From
the back, he saw only a lithe neck thrown back and a pair of slender legs in jeans that cupped an ass so perfect that Ian knew it would fit his palms like they were made for it. An overly large glitter top hid what Ian suspected was a lissome torso. The man’s arms were cast above his head. Ian pictured gripping the narrow wrists in his larger hands to pin the man under him, the willowy frame swallowed beneath him. Imagined the taste of sweat dripping down into the hollow of the man’s throat, and how his moans would taste on Ian’s mouth.
But then a blond boy separated from the crowd and draped an arm over the other man’s shoulders, and Ian flinched as he recognized him.
He’d seen the blond earlier that morning, leaving his neighbor’s house. And when the man Ian had been fantasizing about turned, his face brilliant beneath the strobe lights, Ian was shocked to recognize him as well.
The man of his fantasies wasn’t a stranger Ian could take home and fuck into the mattress. It was a bright-eyed, scantily clad Teddy.
Chapter Six
Ian stood stunned, a statue in a sea of gyrating bodies, until Teddy threw his head back and laughed. Ian could almost hear the bell-like sound being carried over the throbbing bass. It stirred him from his stupor and he frowned, pushing his way through the crowd to get closer.
He told himself it was because Teddy was too young to be there and that if he saw his brother here, he would do the same thing. But he knew that if he saw his brother here, he would be worried about what trouble the kid was trying to get into. When he saw Teddy, he had an entirely different worry—because Ian wasn’t the only one watching him.
Ian came up behind him and gripped his arm, spinning him around. Teddy looked startled as they came face-to-face. Face-to-chest, rather, as the younger man was quite a bit shorter.
Teddy’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his chin lifting as he looked up, then up some more. “Ian?”
“What are you doing here?” Ian growled, keeping his grip on the boy, who looked ready to run.