Bad Influence (37 page)

“
Mmph.
”

God, had the guy fallen asleep? Silver cranked his neck and squinted, glimpsing an eye through a mess of tangled hair.

Zeb made another noise, a happy sigh. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Silver said back.

“Give me a second while I remember how to move.” Zeb’s lips brushed Silver’s chest.

“Nah.” Separating didn’t seem so important anymore. After all, wasn’t that the whole point of being here, to spend this last night with Zeb?

His body on Silver’s was warm and solid, matching the pulse of Zeb’s cock still in Silver’s ass. Instead of a weight pinning him down, Zeb anchored him. Anchored them both right here. Even if it was only for a night.

Silver woke up cursing his bladder. He tried to drift back into sleep, but the insistent fullness dragged him awake. Easing out from under Zeb, Silver staggered into the bathroom.

The annoying toiletry bag on the sink forced him to be more awake than his need to piss had.

He could look in it. See if Zeb had packed condoms. But that wasn’t the kind of boyfriend he wanted to be. And he really did want to be a boyfriend. Wanted it even knowing how much risk, how much pain it could bring. He wanted it with the same intensity of the clueless teenager he’d been the first time.

It was dark now, but the hall light shined into the bedroom, a wide parallelogram of it on Zeb, like a spotlight. He was about to join him in it, when he saw the condom on Zeb’s thigh. On his way back from flushing it, he noticed the sliding doors of the open closet. Looking to see what was still here wasn’t like checking for condoms in a zippered bag. He stared in.

A few pairs of dress pants, shirts and ties and a lot of empty space. Like the one in his gut when he thought about Zeb being gone. He’d been on his own for years. Why the hell should it matter so much now?

“Silver?”

He’d wondered if Zeb was going to go back to calling him Jordan.

“What are you doing?” Zeb asked.

“Nothing.” Silver climbed back into the bed.

Zeb pulled Silver into warm skin. The contrast made him shiver.

“I’m coming back.”

Silver nodded against Zeb’s chest. “It’s only six weeks.”

With a ten-hour drive ahead of him, Zeb wanted to be on the road by seven. At six forty-five, they sat in front of Quinn’s house.

“I’ll text you when I hear what the judge says. Or I guess if I’m in jail, Eli will.” Silver unlatched his door.

“Silver.”

He turned back.

“I feel like—” Zeb scraped a hand over his jaw. “Is there something else I’m supposed to say?”

“No.”

And it wasn’t a lie. Zeb had to go. Silver had a test to study for. A judge to please. And Marco to worry about. It was just the way things were.

Silver leaned over and gave Zeb a quick kiss. “See you in six weeks.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

“You get a week to go all emo,” Eli announced when he came downstairs.

“Fuck you.” Silver had baked some French toast. Mostly because he was bored standing in the kitchen at quarter of seven with nothing to do.

“I take it back. If you’re going to make breakfast, you can mope all you want. I hate cooking breakfast.”

“Fuck you sideways.”

“Mmm. Sounds good to me.” Eli grabbed a cup of coffee. “By the way, we had a little excitement last night.”

Marco slid into the kitchen in his bare feet. “Timo showed up outside my class yesterday.”

“Shit. What did he do?”

“Made an ass of himself,” Eli said.

“He asked if I was tired of having to get fucked to have a place to sleep.”

“Did you call security?”

“No.”

“Marco, you don’t know what Timo might— Oh fuck.”

Quinn came into the kitchen with a purple circle under his eye.

“Quinn was with me,” Marco said, grinning, like Eli’s boyfriend didn’t have an ugly black eye.

Eli started, but the three of them talked at once. “I was meeting Nate to do a shoot on some program the college was doing and—”

“He got way worse than this.” Quinn pointed to his eye.

“Quinn walked me to class, and Timo was there.”

Silver sank into a chair. “Please tell me no one got arrested.”

Quinn shook his head. “No one saw.”

Marco chirped, “Quinn took him aside. The bathroom. Then he fucked him up.”

Quinn winced. “The important thing is he won’t be back.”

Eli was practically vibrating as he tried to pretend he was okay with what had happened.

Silver glanced at Quinn’s scraped and swollen knuckles. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? My brother is a—a—asshole.” Marco landed on the right insult. He smiled. “Now he’s a bloody asshole.” His brows drew together. “I mean bruised.” His cheeks got pink. “I mean—” He shook his head. “Oh, but Timo swung first,” he added like he’d been prepped for the witness stand.

“What if he decides to press charges?” Silver looked at Quinn, who shrugged.

“He won’t.” Marco sounded positive. “He has a record.”

Silver’s appetite for French toast shriveled like a ninety-year-old’s balls. He couldn’t stay there anymore, looking at Quinn’s bruises. Quinn, who was the calmest person Silver knew, involved in a fist fight in a bathroom. A fist fight he wouldn’t have been in if Silver hadn’t dragged him into this. “I need to head downtown for something.”

Eli gave him a narrow-eyed stare through bangs.

“I’ll take my pill and grab something to eat on the way.”

“One week.”

“Yeah. I got it.”

Silver started in the direction of the bus stop, but he was only walking to burn off the urge to scream. He was a magnet for shit. And now it was splattering on his friends.

How the hell could families act like this? Turn their backs on their own kids, get violent with their own kids because of who they fucked? It was such shit. Silver was tired of it.

He wasn’t the only one. Quinn didn’t know Marco, but he was willing to stand up for him. Gavin too, in his way.

Maybe things wouldn’t have gone down like they did if Gavin’s shelter had been there for Silver. Or Marco. Silver stopped walking. If he was so sick of this shit happening, maybe Silver owed it, not just to whoever came next but to himself, to make sure Gavin’s idea happened.

If the shelter did it right, kids would have a place to go. A place to feel safe. But it could just as easily go wrong. Kids like the ones he’d hung out with off Eutaw Street would never trust it. Eddie and his butterfly knife wouldn’t trust some social worker with a bunch of forms.

He stopped and hauled out his phone.

When Gavin picked up, Silver had a hope that what he was interrupting would piss Jamie off.

“It’s Silver. Are you still thinking about the shelter for homeless gay kids?”

“I’m up to my…eyeballs in paperwork for it right now. I have a board in mind, but there are fifteen forms to fill out for every step.”

“I want to run it.”

“I’m sorry?”

Okay. Maybe that was a little much. Silver hadn’t really known it was what he was planning to say until it came out. “I mean, I want to be a part of it. I’ll volunteer or whatever. But if you just put social workers or whatever in charge, kids’ll be afraid to come in.”

“Thank you. That’s exactly the kind of thing I hoped you’d help with. I have one more question for you.”

“Yeah?”

“Why couldn’t you run it?”

Silver thought about it for a second. He didn’t have a GED yet. And he’d probably have to take some college courses. He could handle some school. But then what, he’d be in an office? “Me do the paperwork?”

“Paperwork is the tedious but easy part. After all, I can do that. But someone making the decisions who has had the actual experience would be invaluable. I’ll send over some information, like a job description. See if it’s something you want to think about.”

“I do. Want to think about it, I mean.”

“Does this mean you found your passion?”

Silver didn’t know if he would call it a passion. Not like the way Eli felt about his pictures or the way Zeb talked about teaching. But if it meant Silver was tired of seeing crap go down and pissed enough to do something about it, yeah. And maybe that’s how a passion got started. By wanting.

“I think I did.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Suits were a lame clothing choice for Baltimore in July. How was everyone in the courtroom not dripping with sweat? Gavin had vetoed Eli volunteering to take Silver shopping, but since Silver had decided to pay for this particular wardrobe upgrade himself, they went to a discount store. It wasn’t like he could compete with what was on his lawyer anyway.

Sweat trickled between Silver’s shoulder blades and pooled under the new tie worn a lot tighter than the token knot he threw on for work. Despite the sweat, going in front of the judge was easier this time. There were no guarantees, but having friends—family—on his side helped him face what might happen.

He grabbed a deep breath now as he and the lawyer went through the little gate Silver might not get to go back through. Here at this table, the lawyer would tell the judge why Silver shouldn’t have to go to jail. After putting a deposit on an apartment, the fine they were expecting would clear out the new savings account Silver had opened, but he’d be free. And when Zeb came back, Silver would be ready to see where things could take them.

The judge peered over her glasses and lowered the folder in her hand. “Jordan Barnett, the charge is Violation of Maryland Code 8-303, possession of a fraudulently altered government identification document with intent. This misdemeanor charge carries a fine of five hundred dollars or six months in jail. Do you understand that, Mr. Barnett?”

Silver had used lip balm and drunk plenty of water, but his lips still felt stuck together, and he stuttered a little. “Y-yes, Your Honor.”

“How do you plea to this charge?”

The first words were out, but the second ones weren’t any easier. “Guilty, Your Honor.”

“Do the people have a recommendation?” The judge looked over at the assistant district attorney.

The opposing lawyer had a sneer that reminded Silver of a high school bully. “Three months in jail and three years’ probation, Your Honor.”

Even though the lawyer had warned Silver, the words still felt like a punch to the gut.

Now it was their turn. “Your Honor, I would like to share with the court some circumstances regarding Mr. Barnett’s situation.”

The judge nodded sharply, pulling off her glasses.

“Mr. Barnett has no prior criminal record, not even a traffic violation. Mr. Barnett did not obtain a fraudulent identification with the intent to violate legal restrictions on purchasing alcohol. He was estranged from his family before the age of eighteen and was unable to access his own identification. Since his last appearance, Mr. Barnett has maintained a fixed address and has achieved employment. He is registered to take the GED exam next month and intends to pursue further education. He has signed a lease for an apartment in the city. We ask for dismissal.”

“What will you be studying, Mr. Barnett?” the judge asked.

Gavin had emailed a job description, complete with the qualifications. Counseling was just talking. But the other part, that would be a lot of use, knowing what the laws were and how to get around them.

“Criminal justice, Your Honor,” Silver said.

“Are you planning on becoming an attorney?” The judge slid her glasses back on her nose.

“No, Your Honor. I hope to keep people from needing one.”

“A noble sentiment.” The judge examined her papers. “Jordan Samuel Barnett, you have entered a plea of guilty to the charge of possessing fraudulent government identification. You are hereby sentenced to six months…”

Silver’s hearing faded out in a rush of blood, a waterfall of sound. Jail. The whole sentence. Six months of jail.

“…remain within this jurisdiction for the full six months. And, Mr. Millhouse, I expect to be apprised of the results of each step.”

Silver was still having trouble hearing. It made him feel off balance. He flinched when the lawyer shook his hand. Kind of a ballsy gesture when the guy hadn’t helped much.

“Do you understand all that, Mr. Barnett?” The judge was looking over her glasses at him again. “Stay in the area, keep your job and your apartment. And I’ll be looking to see the results of your GED. Any missteps and you’ll serve the full sentence.”

“I’ll brief my client, Your Honor,” his lawyer said.

But the judge was looking at Silver. He wasn’t going to jail. All he had to do was what he was going to do anyway.

“Yes, Your Honor.”

As the lawyer led Silver back through the gate, he said, “It’s probation before judgment. You comply with the court’s expectation, the main one being not getting arrested again, and at the end of the term, you’re free. Going forward, you won’t have to say you were ever convicted of a crime.” The lawyer shook Silver’s hand.