by Max Walker
As we lay there, drunk off the afterglow from the sex, I couldn’t help but ask the question that had been nibbling at the back of my brain for some time now. “Rocky, how, um, how are you so rich?”
Immediately, I regretted asking it.
“Sorry, dumb question.”
I could feel Rocky tense up next to me. The air felt heavier. Fuck, did I really step in it. Why did I have to ruin this moment with such a dum—
“My father, he was an investor. One of the sharpest, smartest, and most savvy. He took us out of the crime-infested neighborhood I spent my first birthdays in and moved us into an estate with more property than any of us knew what to do with. He worked day and night, and he built an empire.”
“Whoa. That’s amazing.”
“He was an amazing man. My mother, she hated feeling left out, so she started a business of her own. She created a few products, but her biggest was, by far, the Sonnie. Those sponges that last forever and are shaped like big orange suns.”
“No way? Your mom made the Sonnie? My parents swear by those things.”
Rocky nodded, a small smile curling his lips, but it didn’t match the emotion I could see in his eyes. The shadow of sadness that crept into his normally bright gaze.
“I remember when she was testing a bunch of different sponges. Our kitchens were covered in sponges. One time, I had hidden a box of Twinkies where my mom had stacked about fifty different sponges. I really wanted those Twinkies, so I tried to open the cabinet just enough that I could fit my hand in, without thinking to move the sponges first. I’m all contorted on the kitchen counter, and I can feel the damn box at the edge of my fingertips, and then, my mom walks in. I get scared and pull my hand back, knocking down the tower of sponges. Good thing I did because then I ended up falling back, into the mosh sponge pit.”
My jaw dropped open. “Oh my gawd, that could have been bad.”
“Yeah, my mom’s sponges saved me. And then, when I dig myself out of the mess, I look up and smile at my mom, who’s rightfully pissed off. Except I was having a difficult time smiling. I reach up and pull out the sponge that’s in my mouth. It’s shaped like a sun.”
“You’re the reason for the Sonnie?” I asked, laughing.
“Part of it, I guess. That’s why she spelled it ‘son’ instead of ‘sun.’” He laughed, his chest rising and falling under my arm. “It is a damn good sponge, though.”
I couldn’t help but kiss him, smiling as I did it. “It is,” I said, lying back down on the bed, my heart feeling all kinds of full.
“That was what was so great about my parents. They lifted each other up. When my mom helped my dad find success, he made sure he helped my mom find hers. She was the one who started him down the rabbit hole of YouTube videos and message boards where he learned all the basics. I loved that about them. They inspired me to open up my own business fresh out of college.”
It clicked. They were gone. With the way Rocky spoke about them, I knew they must have passed.
“What happened?” I asked. Two simple words with the strength to bring down a solid brick wall.
“I lost them.” Rocky’s voice was choked with emotion. The quiet that followed felt heavy and dark. “I lost them,” he said again, his voice steadier this time. “A plane crash. They were flying into New York. It was for the opening of my store. A bookstore.”
“Oh Rocky. I’m so… Jesus.” I couldn’t get many words out past the lump in my throat.
“I loved books. Something else my parents instilled in me. My brother got the love for video games; I ended up losing myself in stacks and stacks of books. It was my dream to open up a bookstore, and I had. I did it. Called it Hudson Pages. Took months of planning and prepping.” Rocky breathed in deep, his chest rising and shaking. “I closed it a week after their funeral. I couldn’t stand it. It all reminded me of them. Even just the smell of books would make me nauseous.”
I leaned on my arm, looking down at Rocky, who had his eyes glued to the ceiling. I could see a shine in them that came from unshed tears.
“When did this happen?”
“Eleven years ago. Eleven years and three months.” The tears spilled over, silently trailing down Rocky’s face. Something about the quietness behind his sadness resonated with me. Like striking a gong, I could feel his pain down to my bones. I had to look away, because my tears wouldn’t be as silent. I swallowed, hoping a cough could disguise the sound that escaped my throat.
“They would have really liked you.”
The cough morphed into something louder. I managed to hold the rest back, looking into Rocky’s eyes and finding strength in them. He had managed his way out of the storm, and he came through shining bright. I never would have known such an intense tragedy haunted him. There was always an air of mystery around him, but never would I have guessed he’d lived through the sudden loss of both parents. And at a time when everything looked so positive, he had the rug snatched from under him and then set on fire.
“They knew I was gay, and they always supported me. Even back then, in the nineties, when the attitude toward gay people wasn’t exactly kind. They had my back. They met my first boyfriend. Arty. He was a great guy, had the same kind of energy as you, actually. My mom called him ‘her little lovebug’ in that musical Southern accent of hers. Him and my brother would play video games all the time, and my dad learned how to make a killer pancake from him.”
Part of me wondered if he had lost Arty, too, with the way he was speaking about him. I couldn’t imagine any more tragedy following one man, but something in his distant gaze and the way he spoke started making me think. I stayed away from asking any potentially hurtful questions, though. I stuck with something a little safer: “And you and your brother? Does he live close by?”
Rocky’s entire demeanor shifted. If there had been a dark cloud hovering over this conversation, it seemed to have just cracked open, as if the sky had split in half and spilled out a fury of lightning and thunder. His jaw set into a stern sculpture of what it once was, only a few lines of muscle twitching underneath his skin. If I had to guess, I’d say he was biting his cheek.
“I have to go to the bathroom.” He said it suddenly, getting up from the bed.
Confusion hit me. I sat up in the bed, wondering if I’d said something I shouldn’t have. I didn’t think asking about his brother would have such a big reaction? Maybe they were the type of siblings who always fought about one thing or another. The relationship could be a messy one. Why else would he clam up like that? He had plenty of silent moments before, but this was different. He was clearly affected by the question, in a way I wasn’t expecting at all.
I cracked my knuckles, sitting there, still naked and still confused. Rocky walked in about five minutes later, his expression still skewed toward discomfort but the thunderous storm no longer lighting up his eyes. He seemed almost apologetic.
He stretched an arm over and behind his head. “I don’t know about you, but I’m beat. Want to crash here tonight?”
“Yeah,” I said, managing to avoid sounding like an overexcited Chihuahua yapping for a fresh bowl of human food. I looked around, wondering if this room also worked as a guest bedroom.
“Come on,” he said, leaning down and picking me up. I laughed out of surprise, never having been scooped up like this. My feet dangled in the air as he carried me out the door and into the hallway. Both of us were still completely naked, and Rocky smelled like man and sex and cherries and heaven. I drank in his scent as I fit my head into the crook of his neck.
He took us into his bedroom, the massive space feeling completely different to the room we had just spent hours in. There was a pleasant lavender scent in the air, most likely coming from the large diffuser sitting on his nightstand, set inside a pot of bamboo, the soft clouds from the diffuser rising up through the sticks of bamboo and wrapping around the thick green leaves.
Rocky laid me down on the side of the bed closest to the bamboo. I watched him walk around th
e bed, his entire body looking as if it were painted by a master painter, every shadow and highlight placed with intent and artfulness.
He went around and shut the heavy drapes on the windows. “I set a glass of water there for you, too.”
Sure enough, next to the bamboo was a glass full to the brim with water. I thanked him and grabbed the cup in both hands. I took a few big grateful gulps. Lying down, I felt a pang of nerves, realizing this was the first time I’d ever spent the night over another guy’s house.
The nerves quickly evaporated when Rocky got into the bed and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into him and holding me for the five minutes it took for me to fall into the deepest, most restful sleep of my life.
I couldn’t remember my dreams that night, but it didn’t matter. I woke up next to my dream the next morning anyway.
THREE WEEKS LATER
My feet were curled up under me, my fingers dancing across the keyboard, my friends shouting through my laptop speakers. I was supposed to be focused on the tar-covered dragon we were fighting, but all I could really think about was one thing, and one thing only:
I can’t believe I got to go into his Velvet Room.
It had been a solid three weeks and two days since the night I’d been invited into Rocky’s room, and I still had not stopped thinking about it. That entire night went down as the certified best night of my entire twenty-three years of existence. Something had happened that night. Rocky wasn’t the only one unlocking doors. There had been a dusty, cobweb-covered door deep inside me that I had long forgotten about, until Rocky came around and handed me the key.
Behind it was a well of endless confidence. The kind of confidence that had me wearing my mom’s heels as a kid and dancing circles in the green living room rug. The confidence that had me speaking up in class whenever I knew the answer and sometimes when I didn’t. A confidence that had me excelling in my karate classes and my Spanish classes and my art classes.
It was a confidence that I’d slowly suppressed at some point in high school, when I began feeling more and more distant from the rest of the kids, as the closet I was hiding in became stuffier by the day. I had sealed and cemented that door shut the night I was almost taken advantage of. That night had changed me in ways I didn’t even realize until recently.
“Sam! Did you fall asleep on the keyboard?” Silk asked, her character casting a bright white light onto me, my health points shooting back up into the green.
“Sorry, sorry,” I said, jumping back into the game. A ding rang through the living room, letting me know someone else had subscribed to my channel. I shot a wink at the camera and blew a kiss.
“Thank you…” I read the name on the side of my screen. “MissyKitty69, for subscribing and joining Sam’s Club!”
“Dude, I’m telling you,” Icey said over the sounds of ten different spells being cast at once, “you’re gonna get sued.”
I laughed and thanked someone else who had subscribed right behind MissyKitty. I peeked at the number of current viewers and almost tipped the flimsy desk over.
Four hundred and twenty-five people were currently watching me. A new record for me.
It was a welcome side effect of all this newfound confidence. I found myself letting go and actually connecting with the people behind the screennames, and having more fun playing games than I’d ever had before. I thought it showed, and it propelled me to higher numbers, even though my setup was janky and my laptop couldn’t handle a consistent sixty frames per second without sounding like a dual-engined jet plane getting ready for takeoff.
Hazel walked over from the kitchen with a steaming cup of coffee, and the scent alone was enough to wake me up a notch. She took a seat next to me, the couch dipping in her direction.
We’d only gotten in a couple of days ago, and truthfully, it was still weird. If it weren’t for having three months left on the lease with a clause forbidding us to sublet, then we would have been out of here from the night everything had happened.
Hazel leaned over, holding the coffee mug in both hands, a cute panda on the front of it. She smiled and waved at the camera. A dozen of my viewers all chimed in with a “hey, Hazel!” having known her on the nights she’d jump in and play with me. I passed along the greetings and went back to focusing on defeating the very pissed-off dragon.
Another ding. Someone else had subscribed.
“Thank you for subscribing… Rock—”
I froze. My character was hit with a massive wall of flame, getting killed instantly.
“RockyH85.”
That bastard. He signed up to be a subscriber! It had to be him. Not only were those his initials, but that was the year he was born.
“Sam, hello? I just rezzed you, dude.” Silk, who was on screen as a glowing pink and blue elf, left my side and went to go revive someone else.
I still couldn’t focus on the game. I became camera-shy all of a sudden. The confidence I had found seemed to be a fickle mistress because that bitch bolted out of the room. All I could imagine were Rocky’s eyes watching me through his computer, doing God knew what… well, doing something I could picture quite vividly.
A message popped up on the side of my screen, and this time, the chime of a donation rose through the sound of magic and swords.
My eyes bulged out of my head. Rocky had donated seven hundred dollars with a note simply saying “new camera.”
I tried to speak, but my mouth went cotton-ball dry. Hazel must have picked up on it. She leaned over and read the screen before the notification faded away. She slapped my chest and said in a stage whisper, “Say thank you!”
It snapped me out of my daze. “RockyH, thank you so much. You really, really didn’t have to.”
My character was hit by another torpedo of fire and tar, dying instantly. Silk groaned and Icey complained, but for some reason, the viewers were finding it funny. A couple were putting two and two together, commenting about the new subscriber and how I seemed to haywire when he arrived.
“Holy shit, Sam, are you getting your dick secretly sucked or something? You can’t keep dying like this.” Icey was pissed. Silk, always the more level-headed one which probably made her the perfect healer, reassured me it was fine and that the boss was almost dead anyway, but that I seriously needed to get my shit together.
With a nervous laugh, I tried to shake off the thought of Rocky watching me, and I went back into game mode, ignoring the chat room until the boss was finally defeated and there was no chance for me to mess things up.
“Whoa, finally,” Silk said with a sigh of relief as we all rolled for the loot. There was an epic staff that had dropped, but I rolled a twenty which meant three other people after me rolled way higher. It ended up going to some random who rolled a ninety-nine.
Lucky bastard.
“Well everyone can now go back to dick-sucking or getting dick-sucked,” Icey said, his character jumping up and down in the center of my screen.
“There was no fellatio going on,” I assured everyone. “At least not on my end.”
“It sure seemed like you were dickmatized, buddy.” Icey wasn’t letting it go.
And then Hazel made things a gazillion times worse: “Oh he is. He’s been dick-whipped,” she said from my side.
“Hah!” Icey shouted into his mic. “I effin knew it.”
Silk joined the fray. “You have been pretty out of it lately. Like your head’s been in the clouds.”
“Yeah, in the sex clouds,” Icey quipped. “Those big puffy clouds that are shaped like dicks. That’s where he’s been.”
“You two are going to get me banned.” I could see how red I was getting on the camera. Now my chat room was jumping into the fray with messages like “yesss, get it Sam!” and “I knew there was a glow!” Thankfully, none of them were coming from Rocky, so I just prayed that his computer had self-combusted and he was no longer even in my chat room.
“So who is it?” Icey asked as our group teleported back to the main
city. We landed in a flower-filled courtyard, with old stone buildings surrounding us, light bouncing off their stained glass windows. Someone on their glittering azure dragon mount landed right on top of me, disappearing as they logged off.
“It’s um… he’s, uh… whatever, none of your business is what he is.”
“So you aren’t going to introduce us, then?”
“Icey, stop bugging him.” Silk, once again, came to my rescue. “We have to go hand in this quest and queue up for the next dungeon. Why don’t you do that for us? I have to restock on potions.”
“Fine,” Icey said, his character mounting up on a black unicorn and riding off into town. “But I still think you should tell us who’s making you all googly-eyed.”
Then Rocky’s name came up in the chat room. All I read was “Wow, do I make you googly-eyed?” before I yelped and said I had to log off, that someone was knocking. It must have seemed like I had either the government or the SWAT team banging at my door, because I looked shaken to my very gay core.
But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t have Rocky hear more about how I was dick-struck and googly-eyed and whatever else my friends would end up throwing out there. I loved them to death, even without ever meeting them in person, and yet I also knew when it was time to pull the emergency cord and slam the laptop shut.
Hazel looked up from her phone, smiling, thin brow arched toward her bangs. “You okay there, Sam?”
“Yup, fine. Totally fine. Never been better.”
Never been so damn head over heels for someone either.
Shit… Rocky really did make me googly-eyed, didn’t he?
20
Rocky Hudson
My grin was wide enough to strain my cheeks. I sat back in my office chair, chuckling as the image on Sam’s stream went black and he logged off in a panic. Right after I sent him the message about the googly-eyes. I knew I’d caught him off guard just by subscribing, and I wasn’t exactly sure how he’d react to the “tip” I sent him, but I couldn’t help it. There was an easy option to give whatever amount I wanted to give, so I gave. He had mentioned to me before about how his gaming rig wasn’t exactly up to par and that he felt it slowed down his growth, so maybe now he could get what he needed.