Page 60 of Marcus in Retrograde
“Right.”
He peeked through the peephole and gasped. I saw his hand tighten on the door, but not actually move to open it.
“Chase?”
They banged on the door again.
He finally seemed to come out of his trance and yanked the door open before there was another bang. The person on the other side had their hand up as if they were going to do just that.
“Rider.” There was nothing nice or polite about my boyfriend’s voice at that moment. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I’m here to find you.”
“Well, you found me. Now fuck off and lose my address.”
He went to slam the door, but Rider—whoever the hell he was—put his hand out and slammed it back open. “I don’t fucking want to be here, gay boy. So you’re gonna hear me out.”
I cleared my throat and folded my arms. I was a big man, and I wasn’t afraid to use that to defend Chase. “Rethink your words right now,Rider, or I’ll make sure you forget this address.”
“Holy shit…” He stepped back and his eyes traveled up my body, finally reaching my hair.
“Do I meet your approval?”
His eyes snapped back to Chase. “Is that…is he…”
“Rider, this my boyfriend, Marcus. Marcus, this is my brother, Rider.”
Brother.Well.
“You really shacked up with a…guy?”
“We aren’t shacked up,” Chase said. “What the hell are you doing here?”
He stared at Chase for a moment and then sighed. “Can I come in?”
“Are you going to dislocate my shoulder again?”
“I don’t want to be here, Chase. At all. I hate the city, I dislike your lifestyle choice, and I have a life back in Illinois I’d like to get back to.”
He let go of the door and walked back toward the kitchen. Rider was a good six inches shorter than me, but his stank attitude made up for it. I watched him walk into the living room and slammed the door behind him.
MC sniffed at him and walked out of the room into the bedroom. She meowed once and Proust and Pollux came running after her.
Ha. Cat had good taste and sense.
I followed behind him into the kitchen where Chase had pulled out three beers and handed one to me, smacking the other on the table.
Rider seemed to get the idea quickly, and sat down. I slipped myself behind Chase and rested one hand on his shoulder, letting him know I was there, and held the beer in the other. He leaned back a bit against me.
“Talk, Rider. The sooner you do—”
“You have to come home.”
He snorted. “I have to do no such thing. Twelve years since you helped literally throw me out the door nothing but my high school backpack and the clothes I was wearing. I had to beg Mom to give me my bank book and my passport! I slept in a barn overnight and waited for you assholes to leave so I could ask for what was mine.”
“You need to come home,” he repeated.
“Maybe you didn’t hear me—”
