Page 111 of Bobby Green
Her eyes got big, and Reg could see it. Right there. The moment when Isabelle Roberts recognized that her son had a special talent she might never have even thought of.
“I’m not sure if that’s why God gave you that,” she said weakly.
“Well, it must be. Because I’ve been able to keep an apartment and send you money,” he said frankly. “I’ve been able to help Reg fix his house, and keep medical insurance. I mean, sure. I’d love a construction job, or cabinetmaking or something—but I’m not trusting that shit until you are the hell out of Dogpatch.”
Reg was still looking at his white spaghetti, but he knew Bobby was looking at him when he said the next part.
“And the people I’ve met there—not all of ’em are gay, Mom, but they’re all real nice. They took care of Reg here for years before I came along.”
“Bobby….” Her voice was pained, but for the first time, Reg thought maybe Bobby was right and they wouldn’t be driving back to Sacramento in the dark.
“He’s got his health insurance for his sister through them,” Bobby was saying firmly. “Maybe if I get a construction job and I make a little more money, we can find something else he can do that will pay as much without….” Reg looked up this time in time to catch Bobby’s gaze. “Without people yelling at you,” he said with a little smile.
“I didn’t like that part,” Reg said, smiling back.
“No. You do okay at Johnnies,” Bobby told him. “People are good to you. They help with V.” He closed his eyes. “We’ll figure something out for later.” Then he turned back to his mom. “This isn’t forever,” he said softly. “But right now, it works for us.”
“Dear Diary,” his mom said flatly, “today my son told me he was a sex worker, and I almost fainted with pride.”
“Dear Diary,” Bobby returned just as flatly, “today I got my mom out of a shitty little town where my ex-boyfriend couldn’t stalk her and sabotage her car,andmy boyfriend got to know his sister wasn’t wandering the street with a shopping cart. Wasn’t Christmas, but it wasn’t bad.”
Isabelle looked away, her throat working. “Do you have any idea how many doors this job will close?” she asked. “How many things you can’t do?” She turned back to him. “Work as a teacher. Adopt kids. Do you think they’ll let you do those things?”
“Maybe not,” Bobby said softly. “But I’ve got six films already out. If those doors are closed, they’re closed, Mom. What matters now is where we go from here.”
She scrubbed at her eyes. “Wheredowe go from here?” she asked.
Bobby looked around at the decrepit house. “Keith Gilmore isn’t going to let this go,” he said softly. “I think wherewego from here depends on whereyougo from here. I think you should move out in the next week. You can stay at my apartment—it’s not great. We’ll put the furniture in storage for a couple of months, and maybe, in the summer, we’ll find a new place.”
For a moment, Reg wanted to protest. A new place? Why couldn’t Bobby move intohisplace?
And then he remembered. V was there. She hated Bobby. He couldn’t ask Bobby to move into that situation. Bobby could stay the night a lot, but… oh Lord.
“Maybe V’ll be feeling better,” Reg said weakly, staring at his plate. “I… someday, you know. You and me, maybe.”
“Yeah,” Bobby said quietly. “I’d like that. But right now, my mom can’t stay here any longer.”
“I have a job here,” Isabelle said worriedly. “I can’t just bail on that—not after seven years. George Foster may be a sleazy control freak, but he gave me a job when I had no skills and a child and an arm in a sling.”
Bobby nodded. “Two weeks’ notice? Maybe commute the second week. Reg and I are still free next weekend. We can do the moving then.”
“Dex has got a truck,” Reg said helpfully. “And Kane has the big Navigator. Ethan and Jonah can help, but, you know. Jonah’s not as big as Ethan.”
Bobby let out a low chuckle. “Jonah’ll be fine. We’ll get everyone to help. I’m telling you, Dogpatch won’t know what hit it.”
“Wonderful,” his mother muttered. “What am I supposed to say to these guys? ‘Hi, I’m glad to meet you, so nice of you to seduce my son into porn’?”
Bobby scowled. “They’re good guys, Mom. How about ‘Hi, I’m glad to meet you!’—just like you said to Reg, okay?”
“Yeah,” Reg said, nodding. “That was real nice. I gotta tell you, it’s been a long time since I met a mom.”
Isabelle closed her eyes. “Vern—goddammit. How could you… what are you… augh!” She stood up then and went to the stove, where two pies sat on the counter. One was obviously homemade apple, and the other was sort of a silky-looking chocolate mousse cream. She pulled out a pie slicer and cut about a third of the chocolate one off, then threw it on a dinner plate before grabbing a fork and coming back to the table.
Reg and Bobby stared at her.
“Bobby, do you guys eat dessert for dinner a lot?” Reg asked, because that seemed to violate one of the fundamental rules he’d always read about in books.
“No,” Bobby said, round hazel eyes wide. “Never.”
