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“You do? Because I have more information on the sassy twunk,” Rami very casually lets me know.
“Who?” Gabe asks.
“Rague’s new admirer,” Rami singsongs, making me groan with annoyance.
Uri’s brows kick up. “He must be on a suicide quest if he tried to talk to you.”
“Oh, they talked alright.” Rami’s Cheshire Cat smile rubs me the wrong way.
“You should use him to get information,” Gabe says in his businesslike voice, his attention once again on his phone.
“Good idea. And try not to kill him,” Uri adds.
Rami hooks his hands behind his head, pushing out his impressively muscled chest. “A fewpetite mortswouldn’t hurt though, bro.”
Fucker! I rack my brain for a lippy reply, cursing when I come up empty. So, I just flip him off. He blows a kiss at me and whispers, “Check your email; we might have something on Lenny and it involves your admirer’s father.”
Fuck.
Chapter 4
OLIVER
Having to work a half-day means less money, but it also means I can have lunch with Lori. My best friend is the king of the twinks. Petite, feminine, and triple-sassy. His eloquent brown curls frame his delicate face with big, dark blue eyes and a heart-shaped, shiny mouth. With a long, pale neck and a slender chest, he’s almost as lean as my brother, but more compact.
He lives and breathes vintage fashion and has a knack for finding and matching garments. He introduced me to thrift shops and used markets. He can be very bold with his choices. Today, he’s wearing a turquoise cable knit sweater, red faux leather pants, and black ankle boots, which he paired with glittery blue nail polish.
“Do you have to eat that greasy monstrosity in here?” He’s eyeing my cheap fast-food double cheeseburger with a disgusted scrunched-up nose. I open my mouth wide and sink my teeth into the sandwich, moaning like a porn star on Viagra, just to fuck with him.
He snorts. “How long has it been since you had something that big in your mouth, mate?” Lori’s grandma who raised him is from Manchester, UK. That’s why he sometimes sneaks British words into his Chicago accent. Most people find it bizarre or fabricated, but Lori just carelessly shrugs and raises his middle finger. Life hasn’t been easy on him, but he isn’t bitter, nor is he a happy-go-lucky kind of fella. He’s tough as nails and snarky as hell.
“Actually, I had a very delicious snack the other day. It filled my belly juuuust right,” I tell him while obnoxiously chewing my food with my mouth open.
He stops ruminating over his ginormous homemade salad. “And why am I just now hearing this?”
I hum noncommittally and then toss a couple of fries in my mouth. The movement makes my belly ache. I took a hard punch yesterday during the fight. I won, but my adversary made me sweat. They are getting bigger and stronger the more matches I accept.
“Okay, putting my horny glasses on. Oh, what am I saying? I never take them off.” He half-laughs before telling me to spill the beans.
“Not much to say.” I continue to stuff my mouth. I don’t know why, but I feel kind of reluctant to talk about Hulk.
“That bad, ah? Did he drain the spaghetti prematurely? Tried to stuff the meatballs as well? Tasted like rotten cheese?”
I almost choke on my Coke, and while coughing, he pats my back. “For fuck’s sake, Lori. I’d like to eat pasta again.”
“Ollie, why are you being so weird?” He lets out his annoyed huff, pointing his upturned nose to the sky.
“Weird like what?” I’m trying to stall here, but it’s as pointless as the P in the psycho TV series Lori likes to watch.He’s known me since we were kids. We grew up together and both came out to each other around the same age. We even tried to hook up once in school—it felt natural since we were best friends and being queer wasn’t something you declared to the closed-minded folks living in our neighborhood. Dick surely doesn’t know about my tastes. There are still only a few openly gay people around these parts, because words like fag, sissy, and homo are used like glitter in a gay disco club.
Anyway, Lori and I kissed, and…it was terrible. Like kissing my own brother. Yuck.
“Didn’t know there was a range of weirdness,” he says with a sniff. “But very well, you’re acting like one of those fish swimming near a shark’s ass. You think it’s a good idea, but trying to hide behind a sphincter just makes you stinkier.”
“Fuck off, that doesn’t even make sense.”
He scratches his chin with his middle finger, making me smile while I sniff with exasperation.
That’s when I see him. Hulk. Coming out of a small hardware store. I blink a couple of times, but it’s really fucking him.
