Page 66 of Bobby Green
Reg narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Does ‘tabled’ mean ‘not over’?”
“It means I think you deserve more of a life than this, Reg, and I think there should be resources out there to help you.”
“But that’s why I started porn!” Reg wailed. “Because McDonald’s didn’t pay for crap, and I needed more resources to take care of her!”
Bobby took a deep breath. “But, I don’t know. A nurse? A home visit? God, someone to come watch her for you while you go out of town for a day?”
“Where would I go?” Reg asked, and Bobby rubbed the back of his neck.
“Dogpatch?”
“Isn’t that where you live?”
“Not anymore,” Bobby told him soberly. “I have an apartment here in Sacramento.” He turned then and stalked through the meat department, going too fast for Reg to ask him if he knew how to cook steak, but he slowed down around the ham. “Was there something here you wanted?” he asked courteously. “I can’t cook much in mine, so if you’re getting big-meal stuff, this is your stop.”
Reg bit his lip. “Uh… steak?”
Bobby reached for a packet of the thick-cut kind, with lots of fat. “Sure. Do you want something to marinate it in?”
Suddenly the conversation, which had seemed to exist in a black whirlpool for the past ten minutes, grew a bright silver ring. “Do you know how to do that?” he asked desperately. “Because Ilovesteak, but I have no idea how to make it.”
“Well, I think the cow makes it,” Bobby said, putting the package and a bottle of something in Reg’s basket. “But I know what you’re getting at. Here—we can get some bread and some veggies too. I’ll make it tonight.”
Reg’s breath suddenly stopped jamming up his chest. “That’s a good idea, Bobby. Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” Bobby returned easily. He winked, but he didn’t kiss Reg or grab his hand or anything.
Reg wondered that he’d want that.
He’d never wanted that with the Johnnies guys before. Ethan would hang on everybody, but that was expected. The guys roughhoused, they slugged each other’s arms—their physical space was sort of nonexistent.
But Reg had never wanted… affection from anybody. Not in public.
But he didn’t know if Bobby wanted any either.
“C’mon, Reg—let’s finish up and get your food to your place. Then we can take my truck to the apartment.”
Reg followed him quickly, suddenly all questions about his sister and public displays of affection lost in the promise of the two of them.
But when they got to Reg’s house, V had taken apart the kitchen, throwing the plates and the silverware on the floor, the old contents of the refrigerator, the little rack of plants Reg liked to keep—and, oh God.
“Books?” Reg asked, his voice wobbly. “You got me paperbacks for Christmas?”
He must have raided the used bookstore for an entire box full, because his present had been pretty big and heavy—and now they were spread all over the rotting, melting food.
“Here,” Bobby said, all practicality. “Let’s get the books up and stacked first. You do that, and I’ll get the food in a big trash bag, and then we can throw the dishes and stuff in the sink and wash the food off. We can fix this.”
Reg nodded, his lower lip not firm at all. This. This was what Bobby had been talking about, and now he was probably going to get all “I told you so!” on Reg and they would never have sex, never be together, and never even hug again.
To Reg’s surprise, Bobby looped an arm over his shoulder and kissed his temple. “It’s okay, Reg. We can fix this. Get the books stacked and go find your sister. Deal?”
Reg nodded. “Books?” he asked again, because he’d loved reading the books with Bobby and V—but he’d never thought somebody would thinkhewas a good bet to give a book to.
“You wanted ones where people treated each other decent. I asked my mom, and she said that was mostly romances, so I got a bunch of those.”
“Like boys and girls?” Reg just wanted to understand.
“Well, I’m sure they’ve got boys and boys,” Bobby told him, blowing his mind. “But these are about being nice to each other. I thought they’d make you happy.”
