The Telling (3 page)

When he was younger he’d daydreamed about buying the place and restoring the old dwelling to its former glory, but that was before. Now all he
could think of was figuring out what he wanted to do with the rest of his life and get the hell outta town.

Angie shared the drafty house with an ever-changing roster of college student roommates, she herself taking classes while working at Mercy General over in
Hanley as a Licensed Practical Nurse. Hard to believe that in a few short weeks she’d be graduating and sporting a shiny new Registered Nurse
pin. She’d also be making enough money to buy the place of her own she’d always wanted.

Michael retrieved his bags from behind the seat and hurried to catch up as Angie sprinted up the uneven concrete steps and across the front porch. She
flung open the squeaky front door, yelling, “Honey, I’m home!” He caught up as she marched into the living room, boot heels
clicking a sharp staccato on the scuffed hardwood floor. Storming through the door with her brother in tow, Angie screamed into the emptiness,
“House meeting, living room, now!”

The quiet wooden structure burst into a flurry of activity. It sounded to Michael as though a herd of elephants bounded down the stairs as the
deserted-seeming house sprang to life. Bodies converged from everywhere in a blur of colors and sounds, streaming into the living room where Michael and
Angie waited just inside the door.

“Okay, pay attention; there’ll be a test later,” Angie warned, dragging Michael farther into the crowded room. The house was
old and the rooms were large, but the gathered assembly still seemed like too many people to fit in one building comfortably for any length of time, let
alone one room. The furniture was a hodge-podge of mismatched couches, loveseats, and assorted chairs, all clashing loudly with the violet, cracking
plaster walls. Currently, the seating was filled to capacity.

“Everyone, this is my li’l bro, Michael,” Angie gushed to the room in general, displaying a brilliant smile full of gleaming
white teeth.

A chorus of “Hi, Michael” erupted around the room. A mumbled, “He’s hot,” followed a moment later, then
“oof!” as someone elbowed the offender in the ribs.

Ignoring the responses, Angie continued, “Michael, this is Vickie, Wayne, Drew, Bennie, Charlene, Danny, Jay, Terry, Victor, Emily, Annie,
Curtis, and Shasta. Welcome to the Zoo, little brother!”

Oh my God. Had she really recited that entire list without taking a breath? “Do they all live here?” he stage-whispered.

Angie turned back to where she’d begun the introductions, pointing off her friends as she had a moment before. “Lives here,
doesn’t, does sometimes, might as well, her mom thinks she does, does, does, doesn’t, I’m not sure, doesn’t, here
so much she should start paying rent, does, does—but we tell the landlady we’re just dog sitting.”

It was then that Michael noticed that Shasta was, in fact, not sitting on a couch or chair but under one. This suited the Golden Retriever just fine,
intent as she was on wreaking havoc on an acid green tennis ball with her teeth. Michael perused the room, attempting to put faces to names. Angie
wasn’t kidding; she would test him later. Some of the assembled he knew personally, some from his sister’s letters, and some from his
mom’s. One or two were even in residence during his last visit two years ago. All appeared young, though some were older than he, and all were
probably enrolled in the local university or community college.

On the first couch was Vickie, a poster child for Goth chic; that is, if you overlooked the inch or so of blond roots peeking through her stringy
black-dyed hair. She was new to Michael. He wasn’t sure but he thought that he and the heavily freckled Wayne had attended the same grammar
school. Drew had once dated his sister, he knew from a disapproving letter from Mom, and he and Bennie had worked together on his grandfather’s
farm during the summers hauling hay and doing odd jobs. There was a hippy chick sitting in a ratty, plaid chair, eyes owlishly peering from behind enormous
round glasses who he remembered as Charlene, a childhood friend of Angie’s. Perched on the arm of her chair was a young man dressed in black
skinny jeans and a black T-shirt with something illegible but probably brooding scrawled across the front, peeking out from behind an artfully arranged
fall of dark hair. Wasn’t his name Danny?

On the other side of the room sat a guy a bit older than the others. Victor, if Michael wasn’t mistaken. Next to him was a grinning pony-tailed
blonde with a bright shining face, who he wouldn’t have been a bit surprised to see suddenly launch herself out of her seat to scream,
“Go team!” Emily or Annie? Curtis he remembered from high school, and the other girl on the couch, either Emily or Annie, had
beautiful, light brown skin and rows of tightly braided hair—she probably caught hell from the local rednecks. So Curtis must be the jock-looking
guy currently talking mushy baby talk to Shasta while leaning over to rub the happy dog’s belly. She whipped her plume of a tail back and forth
but didn’t surrender her grip on the saliva-soaked ball.

Under a bay window that wreathed its occupants in bright sunlight, a blue loveseat caught his eye. Michael dismissed the blond sitting there, whose name he
thought was Terry, as being blessed with good looks and cursed to be fully aware of it. He recalled his sister making references to an ‘arrogant,
self-righteous, egotistical asshole’ in her letters. But the man also had a sweet and caring side, she’d said, or the other housemates
wouldn’t tolerate him. No matter what other people thought, Michael preferred to make up his own mind, but the looks Terry cast his way gave him
the impression that he’d recently been added to the Sausage Shack’s menu, and was about to be ordered for the novelty. While he liked
to be admired as much as the next person, those assessing green eyes were starting to creep him out.

From the chill of ice to the warmth of the sun, Michael slid his gaze away from the model- handsome blond to the dark-haired, dark-eyed man sitting next to
him. A startling contrast to Terry’s assured good looks, this man wasn’t as pretty but was more conventionally handsome. Also unlike
Terry, he seemed oblivious to the effect his appearance had on others, or in particular, on Michael.

His nose was long and straight, cheekbones high and prominent. A thick mat of glossy black hair hugged his scalp, wavy enough to imagine curls at a longer
length. A style of moustache and beard that Angie referred to as ‘muzzle hair’ surrounded generous lips. Long legs stretched out in
front of the loveseat and, though not as naturally stocky as Michael, the guy appeared sturdily built, with wide shoulders and a narrow waist.
Honey-colored skin, several shades darker than Michael’s own, along with dark eyes and hair, spoke strongly of Hispanic ancestors. His only
imperfection seemed to be his borderline too-large ears. Rather than detract from his appearance, however, they added interest. Hadn’t Michael
once heard some vague high school locker room reference to men with big ears?

While most of Angie’s friends regarded him with curious, indifferent, or even lust-filled eyes, this man’s thoughts were neutral and
undecipherable, except when an easy grin broke free. Twisty sensations squirmed to life deep in Michael’s belly, the beginnings of an erection
threatening. His eyes locked with the handsome man’s, chest tightening against his next breath. He stood frozen in place, unable to avert his
eyes. Blood rushed to his face. The scrape of a chair against the floor broke the spell, and he tore his gaze away to scan the room for witnesses. What the
hell just happened? Had anyone seen?

Almost against his will his eyes returned to their favored target. The stranger continued to watch him, bright teeth flashing once against that dark skin.
Just for Michael. That smile fanned the earlier spark into full flame. Michael shifted his weight to hide the tenting in his blue jeans. The wattage of
that brilliant smile increased.

The man couldn’t possibly have read Michael’s mind, could he? Would he say something, right here in front of everyone? A tendril of
fear crept up Michael’s spine, even as a bolt of pure lust shot straight to his groin.

A tacky wall hanging provided a temporary distraction, but his mind soon wandered back to where it had been, proudly proclaiming to Michael’s
body,
“Lookee here what we found!”
What was his name? Michael ran through the list in his mind trying to find one he
hadn’t yet matched to a person. Angie saved him the effort my hollering, “Hey, Jay, move over and let us sit!”

“Anything for you, Your Highness,” Michael heard, watching those chocolate-brown eyes roll heavenward. Damn, what a
voice—deep, with a touch of a Texas twang.

“You gotta watch out for this one.” Angie pushed her way between Jay and the blond sitting next to him. “We usually keep him
locked up as a public service.”

Oh fuck. Jay, as in “Jay from Brownsville,” a frequent star of Angie’s, and Mom’s, letters.
Oh, dear God, I’m lusting after my sister’s boyfriend.

Jay’s hypnotic gaze swept over him again, and Michael couldn’t have moved if someone yelled, “Grenade!” Tingling
feelings slithered down into his belly once more, but he was too tired to deal with this bizarre attraction at the moment, especially since his body
appeared unwilling to acknowledge Angie’s prior claim.

With a lazy smile, Jay from Brownsville drawled, “If you’re used to putting up with her then I think you can take care of yourself just
fine. I’ll bet growing up with Angie for a sister made basic training look like a walk in the park.” Those eyes finally released their
magnetic hold as Jay yelled, “Ow!” and turned to defend himself before Angie unleashed another punch to his ribs.

Their antics quickly escalated into a tickling fight. The others rolled their eyes and drifted away from the living room while moaning things like,
“They’re at it again”. “It was nice meeting you”, “See ya around”, and “You
poor thing, putting up with a sister like that.”

The intense fluttery feelings died a slow, horrible death when Michael turned his eyes back to the two tussling on the love seat amidst screams of laugher.
Jay was Angie’s boyfriend. Shit. Michael hadn’t a clue what took place a few minutes ago, but something about Jay unnerved him. Then
again, his tired mind could have been playing tricks on him, making him see things in those dark eyes that weren’t there. For a moment, though, a
scant second in time, he’d allowed himself to hope—he was so very tired of being alone.

There was no mistaking the hunger he saw in Terry’s eyes, however. Warning bells sounded whenever the handsome blond looked his way and, he
wasn’t sure, but it might not have been an accident when a hand brushed his ass and lingered a moment when Terry passed by on the way out of the
room. A breeze fluttered against his bad ear. A whispered proposition, maybe?

As quickly as the fight started, it ended, amid more squeals of laughter. “Well,” Angie announced, pushing Jay away and hopping out of
reach of his long arms, “I have to get ready for work. Michael, Jay here agreed to take you over to Mom’s for me. Is that all right
with you?”

“I did?” Jay responded, with a horrified expression that lasted only a moment before it gave way to another toothy grin.

“Yeah, you did—loser!”

The dark-haired Texan turned those paralyzing eyes on Michael again. “Well, the queen has spoken so I guess I’m taking you
home.”

Michael’s body screamed, “Yes!” while his mind screamed, “No!” Aloud he answered, “Sure, Sis;
have fun at work.”

Angie caught Michael in a bone crushing hug. “So glad to have you home, baby brother.” She dashed from the room, leaving Michael alone
with a man who made him unbelievably nervous and belonged to his sister.

Chapter Three

In theory Jay’s car should have been roomier than Angie’s truck; reality was a different matter entirely. The two-door rust and
‘chicken crap yellow’ exterior of the ancient Toyota Tercel was quite impressive when compared to the inside. It looked as though Jay
lived in the car and not the house, with books, clothes and dishes filling the interior. Michael removed a fast food drink cup half-full of questionable
semi-liquid from the passenger seat in order to get in. Gingerly placing the cup on the floor, he hoped that the ever-weakening bottom wouldn’t
choose that moment to end its fight with the inevitable. He’d no desire to get up close and personal with whatever sloshed around inside.

“Sorry about that,” Jay said, grin never dimming as he slid under the steering wheel. “The car’s a bit of a
mess.” The light tone suggested he merely stated the obvious and wasn’t actually apologizing for any shortcomings.

Michael managed to squeeze his bags into the already-filled-to-capacity area in the back and attempted, unsuccessfully, to adjust the seat to allow more
room for his legs. A quick glance into the back revealed a football helmet and a backpack, along with a few hundred additional items, wedged behind his
seat.

“Do you play?” Michael asked, focusing on the helmet as a way to break the tension of being alone with his sister’s
boyfriend, said boyfriend making him feel things he didn’t know how to deal with. Why? Why did he have to find this particular man attractive?

“Play what?” A cheeky grin and waggling eyebrows said just how Jay chose to interpret the question.

“Football,” Michael clarified, blushing hotly. Was Jay flirting with him? “Do you play football?” he asked again,
immediately feeling stupid for asking. Of course he played football, Angie had mentioned attending his games often enough in her letters.

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Jay’s eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed. “Now why would I be carrying
around a football helmet if I didn’t play?”

“Ummm…maybe because you have everything thing else in here but the kitchen sink?”

“Damn!” Jay exclaimed, fastening his seatbelt and motioning Michael to do the same. “I knew I forgot something! Remind me to
go by the hardware store and pick one up while we’re out, okay?”