Page 44 of Bobby Green
“Don’t you have to be gay to have a boyfriend?” Reg asked, legitimately confused.
Trey wrinkled his entire face. “Oh, baby. I hate to break this to you but—”
“Gay people are nasty,” V said, emerging from the living room with precision timing. “They’re sneaky. Want everybody to be gay. Want to make us make it illegal to not be gay.”
Reg gaped at her, his entire brain feeling like a mouse in a washing machine set on spin. “V, gay people are nice. You gotta not listen to those assholes on TV.”
“That’s not true,” Veronica snapped, before glaring at Trey. “I don’t like this one—he smirks. Where’s Bobby?”
Trey blew out a breath. “Bobby is outside, waiting for me to go get donuts. Reg, I’ll be back in an hour.”
Sure he would. After he and Bobby talked like grown-ups and left Reg here in the kitchen to sulk and worry like a child.
Reg’s chest hurt, and his breath wouldn’t come all the way, stopped up like it did when you were in the pool too long and your lungs were slogging through half a gallon of chlorine.
“Maybe me and V can come with you?” Reg asked desperately. God, he wanted to talk to Bobby alone—that was all. Just explain to him, how Trey was his friend, a quick lay, just a thing, but Bobby was… more. Bobby meant more. Bobby was acompanion, and Reg didn’t want that to end.
Trey sighed. “You and V stay here,” he said. “I’ll take Bobby to go get donuts. Reg, you and me, or you and Dex or Ethan or someone need to talk. I think you’ve got this whole…” Trey glared at Veronica, clearly out of patience. “Thing,” he spat, “wired in your head wrong. But I can’t explain it now, and you and Bobby need to set things right between you in your own way.”
Reg’s throat ached. “It feels so wrong,” he said, and his voice came out thick and broken. “It felt wrong last night—”
“You should have said something,” Trey murmured. “Why didn’t you?”
“I didn’t have the words.” Reg sank into the kitchen chair and stared at his hands as they dangled between his thighs. “And I still don’t.”
From the front yard, they heard a clatter of boards and pipes hitting the ground.
“Well, Bobby’s got some,” Trey muttered, pulling his hand through his hair. “And judging from that racket, they’re all bad. Here—I’m gonna go put a shirt on.” He grimaced, the grooves piling up on the sides of his cheeks. “Veronica, what kind of donuts doyoulike?”
“Chocolate ones,” she said, her voice mellowing. “That would be real nice. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” Trey turned toward the bedroom, and probably to the shirt he’d brought with his shaving kit the night before. “Reg, you sit there and think of some words, okay? I’ll try to calm Bobby down.”
Trey disappeared, and Reg stared at the door disconsolately. His entire life he’d acknowledged that he wasn’t bright. Whatever a brain needed to be good with words or numbers, to be quick with ideas or creative, Reg’s brain didn’t have it.
But in his entire life, he’d never felt so piss-stupid as he did at this moment here.
Breaks and Fixes
BOBBY COULDN’Tlook Trey in the face—and the guy was his roommate, and Bobby even liked him.
“Bobby, man—look, I didn’t realize it was like that with the two of you, I swear!”
“There was nothing to know,” he said numbly. God. There wasn’t, was there? Nothing to know. They touched. They held hands. Bobby stroked his hair, his face, held him close. Wasn’t sex. Wasn’t a relationship. Bobby had a girlfriend.
The thought made his eyes burn more, and he pulled the last of the lumber out of the truck. “Yeah, right,” Trey snapped. “That’s why you look like I killed your dog.”
Bobby tried to pull himself out. “I don’t have a dog.”
“Oh dear God.Bobby.What’s it going to hurt to admit you got attached to the guy! I mean, Reg is supposed to be the dumb one—”
“He’s not dumb!” Bobby snarled, dropping his tool chest and swinging around to confront Trey. A red mist passed in front of his eyes, and suddenly he could see himself waling on this perfectly innocent, perfectlyniceperson who had never wronged him, not really, and certainly not on purpose.
“Okay, absolutely,” Trey said, holding his hands up and looking alarmed. “I can see that. Not dumb. He’s not.Youare.”
Bobby gaped like a fish and became aware of the violence in his muscles. Oh God. Just like his old man. A mean, bitter fucker who swung first and asked questions later.
“I’m sorry,” he said, trying to find his footing. “I… I don’t know why—”
