Luke and his parents learn a little something about trust. |
âAnd whereâre you going at this hour, dressed like that, young man?â Luke Goldstein-Crossley pauses with his hand on the knob of the front door. âEr . . . library?â âHuh. Try again.â Turning to face his Dad, Luke puts on his most charming smile. It never seems to work on Neil, not even when Papaâs the one doing it. In fact, Neil merely gives him an unreadable once-over then huffs. âLukas, that shirt is more holes than shirt, and those jeans are so tight I can read your religion.â âDAD!â Luke covers the goods with both hands, wincing as his testicles try to ascend into his body cavity. âWell, itâs the truth.â Neil crosses his arms and leans against the banister. âAnd you know what else is the truth? No son of mine is going out at ten oâclock at night, looking like some sort of . . . rent-boy!â âReally? I look that good?â It slips out before Luke can censor himself and Neil does not seem amused. âRoger!â he calls, turning his head to look back up the stairs. Luke can just about make out a hickey on his Dadâs neck and has to fight not to gag. He knowsâfor a fact, ickâthat his parents still hump. Like bunnies. He knows that said humping means that they still love each other, and that even though theyâre so old they can still get off on each other. But being presented with tangible proof is absolutely horrifying. âRoger Crossley! Get your ass down here and take a look at your son! â And that, right there, is how Luke knows heâs in trouble. When he aces a math test or does something brag-worthy, heâs his Dadâs son. When he gets caught dry-humping with a varsity quarterback in an empty classroom or something else that might be considered slightly . . . unsavory, heâs his Papaâs son. âOh, what now, light of my life?â Papaâs amused voice precedes him down the curving staircase. He, like Neil, is wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. But unlike Neil, heâs barefoot. He has a tendency to walk around the house that way, a tendency Luke has inherited. âTake a look at the boy, Roger, and tell me whatâs wrong with this picture,â Neil says, gesturing at Luke, but not looking at him, as if the very sight of Luke pains him. Roger does so, eyebrows shooting up as he looks Luke over critically. âBloody hell, heâs started gelling his hair back again,â Roger moans, only to get an elbow in the ribs from Neil. âOuch! What was that for?â âFor not noticing your son looks like aâa streetwalker-in-training!â Roger tuts. âOh, now, donât be so harsh, my darling. He looks to be well out of the training stage.â Which is good for another elbow from Neil and a hastily covered laugh from Luke. Neil glares at them both. âI hope you think thatâs really funny, because getting grounded? Wonât be nearly so amusing!â âBut I just got done being grounded!â Luke whines, leaning on the door and pouting. Neil scowls and comes down the last three steps, arms still crossed and eyes squinting myopically. âAre you wearing make-up, Mister?â Luke rolls his eyes. âUh, yeah. But just lipstick and eyeliner, I mean . . . Iâm not going to a rave or anything.â âAnd where, exactly would you be going, Lukas?â Rogerâs wearing his concerned face. The real one, not the one he fakes to stay on Neilâs good side. âYour curfew is elevenââ âAgainst my better judgment,â Neil adds. ââand youâre leaving at ten? Giving you one hour to do . . . whatever it is youâre planning to do in that charming little outfit.â Rogerâs eyebrows quirk up again in unasked question. Luke sighs, but mentally sorts through all the handy lies heâs used in the past, andâ âand itâs obvious from the looks heâs getting from his parents that they know exactly what heâs doing, their bullshit-o-meter having been set off. So itâs to be the truth, then. The option of last resort. But even as Luke balks at telling his occasionally over-protective parents the truth, he imagines what itâd be like to go a whole ânother twelve hours without kissing Kyle, or feeling those strong arms around him, and resigns himself to it. âRight, then. So . . . Kyle called me and asked if I wanted to hang out for a bit and I said yes because we havenât been out since I got grounded that last time and I really miss going out with him and anyway itâs only going to be for a little bit so can I please go please?â âKyle as in Kyle Darden, that boy you got caught messing around with at school?!â Neil demands, at the same time Roger hmms and looks even more concerned. âAbsolutely not!â âButâbutââ Luke sputters angrily, then stomps his booted foot. âYouâre just saying no because you think Iâm gonna have sex with him if I go!â âWell, duh!â Neil exclaims, rolling his eyes, and elbowing Roger again. âDamnit, back me up, here, Roger!â âActuallyââ âAnd donât act as if you wouldnât!â Neil adds, cutting Roger off before he can say anything. âIf youâd had your way, youâd have lost your virginity in an empty classroom on your teacherâs desk!â âThatâs not true!â Though it halfway is. The part about letting Kyle do him in school, anyway. âAnd for your edu-tainment, I got my cherry popped a year ago, and it wasnât in a classroom, and you didnât know anything about it! So if I wanna have sex, keeping me from going out with Kyle isnât gonna stop me!â In the shocked, downright mortified silence that follows this outburst, Luke blushes, and crosses his arms over his chest, and rocks back on his heels. âI mean. I know how to be safe and everything. AndâIâm not, like, easy, or anything. I wasnât going to give Kyle any tonight in the first place.â Again, this is halfway true. Sucking dick is sucking dick. Itâs nothing like sex. Roger sighs, putting his arm around Neil, who shoves him away. Roger sighs again, his eyes darting unhappily between his husband and his son. âRight, then. Brilliant moment to drop a bomb like that on us, Lukas. Cheers,â he says sarcastically, and Neil snorts, his shoulders one tense, angry line. This time, when Roger puts his hands on those shoulders, for a wonder he doesnât get shrugged away. âYouâre only fifteen, Lukas,â Neil says finally, his voice pleading and cracking like just saying the words hurt. And that hurts Luke, who realizes that yet again, heâs disappointed his Dad. Granted, this happens fairly often, considering Neilâs astronomically high code of ethics regarding behavior and Lukeâs tendency not to live up to it. But that doesnât mean the pain of it gets any easier. âIâm sorry, Dad.â Lukeâs own voice is cracking like it hasnât since he was thirteenâhe may be Dadâs biological child, but heâs somehow inherited Papaâs low timber and accent, something which makes getting boys far easier than it should be. âI didnât mean to disappoint you. Again.â Neil heaves a sigh of his own, the straight line of his shoulders turning into a slump. He shakes his head. âLukeâyou could never disappoint me.â Luke snorts. âPlease. Donât act all like youâre not totally disappointed your little boy turned into some kinda . . . he-slut.â Neil cocks his head solemnly, as if he suddenly understands something thatâs been eluding him. âIs . . . is that how you think I feel? Is that what you think youâve become in my eyes?â âIââ Luke looks away. âI dunno. I guess,â he mumbles, picking at the edge of one of the holes in his t-shirt. It really is pretty scandalous. Even for Luke. âYouâve made it pretty clear that Iâm not living up to your . . . high standards.â Next thing he knows, Neilâs arms are around him, holding him tight. StartledâNeilâs not one for hugs and kisses. Not like Rogerâall Luke can do is hug back, ignoring the prickling behind his eyes. âYouâve never once disappointed me, Luke. You never could. I may not agree with all the choices you make, but I love you. And Iâm proud of you,â Neil says fervently, his voice cracking again, but in a completely different way. âOh.â Luke says, only itâs more of a hitch. He doesnât really know how else to respond to any of this. The hug, the approval . . . any of it. âOkay.â Then another set of arms are sliding around them both, strong and warm, and Papaâs muttering: âLook at us, blubbering like a trio of old queens.â âOh, man.â Luke laughs a little, blushing. After a minute he pulls out of his parents arms, unable to look at them. Unable to look anywhere but his expensive, fashionably battered boots. âSo, yeah. I need to go for a walk.â âA walk?â Luke can sense the glance his parents share between them. âWhere?â âNowhere. Just for a walk, okay? God.â He risks a quick look up, and sees Neil and Roger share another one of those glances. Concerned, but not worried. âAlright,â Roger finally says, sliding his arm back around Neil, who leans against him in a way that means theyâve got each otherâs backs on this particular decision: they stand united. âHave fun, and remember this is a school night, sweetheart.â âI will,â Luke promises, meeting their gazes in turn. Roger smiles wistfully, and Neil . . . looks like he might say something else. But in the end, he doesnât. Merely lets Roger lead him to the stairs. They go up quietly, without looking back. And that, it would seem, is that. Stepping out the front gate, feeling as free as a balloon escaped from a bunch, Luke pauses, contemplating two directions. Right leads to Kyleâs house (or, more accurately, the backseat of Kyleâs car), and left leads . . . to nowhere in particular. He takes a step to the right, thinking almost ruefully that he could blow Kyle four times in the next hour and still get in under curfew. In fact, if he really wanted to, he could let Kyle fuck him. Twice, even. Lord knows heâs got plenty ânough protection for that. . . . Suddenly, his Blackberry trills; heâs got an incoming text message. Probably from Kyle, wanting to know why the hell his dick is still unsucked. But when Luke checks his phone, the incoming message is from Neil: Be careful. Be safe. Be back by 11. XO, Daddy. For a long while, Luke stands there, a smallish, dark-haired, dark-eyed boy in too much make-up and too-tight clothes, staring at his phone and blinking a lot. âFucking Daddyâs boy,â he mutters to himself, turning left, toward nowhere in particular. But with a smile on his face. END |