On Archimedes Street (39 page)

“See? It big. Get hard alla the time. You like it?”

Elwood started to swell even though Manny wasn’t moving his hand or even applying pressure. He reached for Manny’s and found him fully erect.

“See? You like it.” Then Elwood grabbed Manny’s hands, brought them to his own shoulders, and stepped into the circle of his arms. “We gonna have fun. You bin wit’out too long.” Then he moved his face in to Manny’s, angling it to avoid bumping noses, and brushed his lips.

Manny was still no longer. He crushed his pelvis into Elwood’s and started grinding fiercely in small circles. His tongue sought the seam of Elwood’s lips, requesting entry. When Elwood parted his, Manny started sucking on the tongue desperately. He rutted more insistently, clutching him and moving a knee over Elwood’s thigh as if Elwood were a tree he could climb.

“Whoa, dere. Slow down. You din’t shoot in your pants, didja?”

Manny climbed off Elwood and stood an arm’s length away, trying to still himself. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s been so long since…. Just twice since Dominic was born. And one of those times didn’t really count.”

“Jes’ wunst in all dem years! An’ I know! The time dat din’t count was wit’ dat boy you train, right? He mopin’ ’roun’ like he a calf an’ you his lost Maw. Dat boy lookin’ for his Paw.”

Manny nodded.

“An’ I t’ought
I
was a monk! You got me beat han’s down!”

“When Dominic was small, well, it was a lot of responsibility for the kid that I was, even with my parents’ help. And I got some offers, but from women, and there was so little time, so little opportunity. I took a woman up on the offer once, and I realized that I’d rather be celibate than be with women. And I suppose I just got used to it. Seemed too much trouble to go looking for it.”

“Celibate meanin’ no fuckin’?”

“Yeah. And then there was Dominic. I mean, there’s still Dominic. We’ll have to be discreet. I don’t want him to know. I don’t want him to be an outcast at school because his dad is gay.”

“You crazy! I got news for you. Foist, he alrelly know. He got eyes in his head, don’t he? In fack, dat boy’s got eyes on the
backa
his head. An’ secon’, he can take care of hisself, take my woid. An’ goils prolly want at him all the more ’cuz his dad likes cock.”

Elwood pounded on the wall separating the shop from the living quarters. “Dom-i-
nic
! Dominic! Get yo’ lazy ass in here, boy!”

“No! What are you gonna do?”

“What you shoulda done long ago. Dominic!” He pounded again.

Dominic poked his head into the shop doorway. “Whaddaya want, Elwood? I’m studying.”

“Studyin’, my behin’. ’Less it studyin’ the bes’ way to get in some goil’s pants. Or the head of your dick when you jack it.”

Dominic looked sullen.

“Look here! We got a announcement. Your Paw an’ me? We playin’ ’roun’ wit’ each udder’s wieners now. Jes’ so you know. He got a right to a life, eben if he has a woithless, no ’count son.”

“Eew.” Dominic grimaced. “TMI. Well, it’s about time, I guess. Anything else besides this historic announcement? I’m busy.”

“Don’t you be smart-moufing me, boy! You bet your ass dere’s somethin’ else. Go grab one of your Paw’s ties. Like the kind you put ’roun’ your neck.”

“What? Why?”

“Go get the dam tie.” But it was Manny who went for the tie. He had only two ties, one black, to wear to funerals. He’d last worn it for Elwood’s MeeMaw.

“Dat tie’ll do,” he told Manny. “You see dis tie, Dominic? You see dis tie hangin’ on my doorknob or your Paw’s doorknob? Dat mean we got somethin’ goin’ on. Dat mean it wiener time. Dat mean you don’t come in! You hear me, boy?”

Dominic accused his father, “Are you fucking Frenchy? I saw that picture!”

Manny recoiled. All those secrets he thought were secret. Nothing was a secret, he realized. Everybody knew everything, it seemed.
Well, that’s Archimedes Street for you.

“Your Paw don’t fuck no boy! He wit’ me! Dat boy jes’ confuse.”

Dominic narrowed his eyes. Finally, he shrugged and said, “Whatever.” Then he brightened. “I guess I have two dads now. Coolness. What do I call, you, Elwood? Paw?”

“Don’t get smart wit’ me.” He boxed Dominic’s ear.

“Can I have twenty bucks, Paw?”

He boxed the other one. “An’ enudder thing! Know all ’bout you an’ dat Rosalie. Goil oughta get her head examine’.” He reached into his back pocket. “Here some rubbers. If she dum enough to let you in, you use dem, boy! Don’t you be bringin’ no baby into dis house, like your Paw befo’ you. God knows what kinda crazy-ass baby you and Rosalie’ll pop out.”

Dominic grabbed the rubbers and, snickering, made his retreat.

Manny turned to Elwood. “Wow.”

Elwood just grinned and winked. “Knowed dat boy since the day he born. I set him straight, you see soon enough.”

Chapter 52

T
HE
FAT
envelope was ripped open, and it lay next to the carefully slit skinny envelope. Dutch was advancing on Flip, backing him into the wall.

“What do you mean, you’re going to LSU? You can’t turn down
Harvard
.”

“Sure I can. At Harvard I’m just another rich kid, a hick from the South. Here I’m a big fish in a little pond.” He kept advancing, pushing and prodding Flip to the wall. He grinned the feral grin Flip remembered from long ago.

“What are you doing? Why are you…?”

Dutch had him trapped against the wall, his palms flat on it. He leaned in to sing in Flip’s ear. “Flippie’s got a se-e-e-cret. Little Dutchie kno-o-o-o-ws it.”

“Oh, God. Not this again.”

“Say it. Say it and I’ll give you what you want.”

Flip racked his brain. What could possibly be left? They’d done everything, in every possible position, to each other.

“Say it.”

There was nothing left, except…. “Er—bondage?”

Dutch drew back in surprise. “Wow. Kinky. Never thought you had it in you, Flabbott. And you call
me
a twisted hairpin for eating Gorgonzola from a nontraditional baguette? You really want that?”

“No, I don’t. What is it, Dutch? What are you
asking
?”

Dutch leaned into the ear again and purred, “Flippie
lurvs
Dutchie, doesn’t he?”

“Oh.”
That.

“Say it.”

“L-love.”

“Who?”

“You.”

“Well, of course you do. You can’t help yourself.”

“Arrogant bastard.”

“And now your reward. What you want.”

Flip had been wrong. There was something they hadn’t tried. Obviously simple. Dutch did it now. He brought his lips to Flip’s and brushed against them.
Oh. That.
What an anticlimax. But Flip was willing enough, and he pressed his lips to Dutch’s, licking their outline. It felt nice. Familiar and corny, in a way, like some G-rated movie scene. He decided to raunch it up some by scrunching his crotch into Dutch’s.

Dutch shoved his crotch away. He drew back from the lips and held his torso rigidly, as if anticipating a punch in the stomach. Flip thought he looked a little strange, wild-eyed, almost angry. What had he done? “You okay? Is my breath bad?”

“No.” In fact, it was intoxicating. It was mint, cinnamon, man, and pepper. He drew near again and started moving his lips in slow, feathery circles over Flip’s, softly inhaling his breath. Jolts of electricity were traveling from his neck to his heels.

What was with this pansy kiss? He’d much rather be deep-throating Dutch’s huge cock or tongue-fucking his ass. Well, if it was kissing he wanted, he’d be properly kissed. He’d ram his tongue inside and start swapping some spit.

“I…. I…. I…,” Dutch stammered.

“C’mere.” Flip jumped on him and circled his thighs round Dutch’s hips. Then he forced his tongue inside. He tried every trick he remembered from high school, licking the teeth, sucking saliva, biting softly, trying to engage Dutch in a tongue duel.

Dutch pushed him away and looked at him wildly. “I gotta go,” he said.

“A
ND
THE
winner is, once again, Escalonia Lotte LaNasa, for her delicious stuffed artichokes with shrimp, sautéed fresh breadcrumbs, Parmesan, lemon peel, parsley, and the secret ingredient she won’t disclose!”

Honoria glared. Rita glowered, and Doodie scowled. Elwood loured. They stood, respectively, by their overlooked red-bean soup, team-effort stuffed crabs, and headcheese.

Lotte swept up grandly to receive the plaque and ribbon. There was a smattering of polite applause. She curtsied as if receiving an ovation. “Me? Ag’in? I don’t desoive it, I’m sure, in competition ag’inst all dese delicious dishes.”

Elwood harrumphed his agreement. “Artichoke take a hour and a half tops. Headcheese take t’ree
days
,” he mumbled.

“But t’ank you from the bottom of my hawt.” She stepped regally off the grandstand.

“Well, you win again, LaNasa. Congratulations, my dear.” Honoria’s icy tone telegraphed the depth of her sincerity.

“Yeah, congrad-ulations,” muttered Doodie and Elwood glumly.

“Yes, you’re a woman of
parts
, all right,” Rita said tartly.
You twat.

Flip wandered among the stands of the cook-off, sampling everything. He was trying to distract himself. He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Dutch since that kiss two days ago. Where
was
he? But, he was a growing boy with a healthy appetite, and he gobbled down with relish the artichoke that Armida, manning the LaNasa stand, handed him, even as he fretted over Dutch’s mysterious disappearance. In his mind, there was no contest. The LaNasa woman won fair and square. But hadn’t he tasted this dish before? Then he remembered.

At Pizzalotta’s. Those two old biddies—Googs’s twin aunts—had served the very dish. He wondered briefly about the cook-off rules, but then his mind reverted to the subject of Dutch.

What was going on?

“N
O
,
HE
isn’t here. I don’t know where he is. Isn’t he in Gretna, with you?” Say-Say hated lying to this beautiful boy. Dutch was holed up in his bedroom, and she was under strict instructions not to let Flip in. She felt bad about it, but also she felt good. Dutch was
back
where he belonged. Achille’s affair with Dianne was history, and Achille was performing his conjugal duties with a zeal and tenderness that left Say-Say breathless and somewhat bewildered. She and Paule giggled daily over Achille. She felt glamorous and sexy in the new clothes.

“Well, if you see him, tell him I’m looking for him. I’m worried.” Flip had vague suspicions. This was Dutch’s mother, and she wasn’t worried over her son’s disappearance? It didn’t pass the smell test.

“I will.” Say-Say felt pity. She wanted to console Flip, tell him everything was okay. But she kept her lips zipped instead.

Dutch had missed Organic Chemistry Monday. Surely he wouldn’t miss it Thursday, would he? It was hella hard. Actually, he was counting on Dutch for help on Organic Chemistry, a little tutoring. Suddenly the notion of tutoring rang a bell in his head.

Googs!
It came to him. Of course! He’d been slowly seducing Googs under the pretense of tutoring him, and Googs was too dependent on Dutch to deny him cock now and again. Dutch was chasing straight Italian salami, which Flip had no doubt Googs would gladly slip into any convenient hole.
I was a pushover.
He wants a challenge. And now Dutch is straying into “conversion” territory.
Yes. There was nothing Dutch would like better than to rub Mimi’s face into his conquest of Googs. It was obvious.

I’ve been dumped. For a “straight” jock. He’s too much of a pussy to tell me to my face, and he’s holed up in his childhood mansion, hiding behind his mother’s monogramed apron.

Flip suddenly worried about the rent on the Gretna shotgun. If Dutch moved out, there was no way he could swing it alone. Then he put that worry away.

No, he’ll continue to pay his half. He’d be honorable that way. It’s nickels and dimes to him, anyway.

With no Dutch to confront and three hours before Organic Chem, Flip needed to kill time. Too upset and angry to bury his nose in the chemistry text, he took off his backpack and plopped it at the edge of the Redemptorist Quad. He went into one of their stunting routines, guiding the bike balletically through loops, turns, rolling dismounts and remounts, and uprearings. It felt good to do this. Familiar. Comforting. Yes, maybe he was too old for a sport dominated by reckless, fearless, fifteen-year-olds with absolutely no sense of their own mortality. But fuck it. Fuck everybody if they can’t take a joke.

Suddenly, he felt a presence. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Dutch whoosh to his side in an orange blur to join the two-wheeled dance.

Where in the hell have you been?
he wanted to say, but this synchronized stunting routine required complete concentration, with no window of opportunity for chitchat. Instead, he chanted his portion of their chant.

“D
ah
-woom,
dah
-woom,
dah
-woom-
dah
.” To Flip’s surprise, Dutch did not contribute his “Um-um-
bwah
.” This routine ended with a tabletop followed by a rear-wheel scuff and leaping dismount.

As soon as Dutch’s feet hit the ground on the dismount, he spoke. “Incredible moves. You are awesome. Couldn’t help joining in. It’s amazing how well we did. Anybody would think that we practiced this for months.”

“Where in the fuck have you bee…. Wait, what do you mean practiced this for months?”
Awesome? Dutch never says “awesome.” He ridicules the word.

“Hi. I’m Dutch.” Dutch offered his hand to shake.

Flip looked down at the proffered hand with contempt. “Where have you been? I was worried! And what the fuck are you up to?”

“What’s your name?”

“What’s my na…. You’re asking me for my
name
? You want an
introduction
? Do I need to remind you that I’ve had my tongue up your a—”