Chapter 109

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Safely behind the tinted bus windows, Stacy studied the familiar streets, on the lookout for Lamar’s car. He found it parked in the lot at the body shop, thank God. As it disappeared behind him, he let out a sigh that trickled off into a bubbly laugh. One change-over at Walnut Mall and twenty minutes later, he hurried down Ange’s block to the side door of his friend’s garage. His heavy knock rattled the door in its frame, and he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans to keep them still. Nervous energy coursed through him, spiraling through his chest to pool at the hardness at his crotch. He soneeded this.

When the door finally opened, Ange stared at him for a full minute before a slow smile spread across his face. He wore a dingy tank top and black sweats that hung low on his narrow hips. Stacy didn’t think he’d ever seen his friend look sexier and he wanted him, here, now, in the doorway if he had to. At Ange’s smile, Stacy grinned in response.

“If it ain’t my cousin Miguel,” Ange said softly. His eyes flashed in the sunlight when he leaned out to glance down the street, and Stacy caught a whiff of cleanliness from his friend, soap and shampoo and something lemony, such a contrast to Ange’s dusky skin and dark hair that it made Stacy think of hot rutting in damp sheets. “You’ve got a death wish, chico. Get your gringoass inside already.”

Stacy brushed against Ange as he stepped through the door, pulling a hand free from his pocket to cop a feel across the front of Ange’s sweats. At the bulge he found there, he laughed. “Happy to see me?”

To his surprise, Ange stepped back out of reach. Closing the door, he threw the deadbolt. “If Lamar finds you here—”

“He’s at work.” Stacy tugged off his baseball cap and tossed it onto the hood of Ange’s Nova. When he pulled his other hand out of his pocket, it was filled with condoms. “I haven’t gotten any action in weeks. Pick a color.”

Ange frowned at the condoms. “So where you been, Stace? I thought you’d call last night.”

“I didn’t get a chance.” The lie came easily enough, but it made Stacy wince. “I like the blue ones. Makes your dick look Smurfy.” When Ange didn’t laugh, Stacy sighed. “I was taking practice tests, alright? Darian said I should try a few of them now so I don’t choke up on the GED. You gonna pick a color or what?”

“So you’re staying with him now?” The question was innocent enough, but something in Ange’s voice made Stacy’s fingers close over the condoms in defeat. “Tell me about it.”

With a shrug, Stacy muttered, “Not really much to tell.”

“The kid?”

Stacy nodded. “His. Great little boy. His name is James? And he plays Little League, how cute is that? He comes over every other weekend, and next time he said he’s bringing his glove so I can help him with his game.”

Ange didn’t reply. Stacy stared at the condoms in his fist and wondered what was going on behind his friend’s dark eyes. He thought of Darian’s words, no secrets, but he couldn’t imagine saying that to Ange. The guy had a million secrets Stacy knew nothing of—his eyes betrayed nothing, his body, nothing. They could be discussing sports, or groceries, or nuclear war, for all the clues Ange’s body gave away. Talk to me,Stacy pleaded, but he didn’t dare say it out loud. He simply waited, and hoped Ange would eventually tell him what he was thinking.

Years seemed to pass before Ange spoke. “Darian.” Stacy nodded, even though it wasn’t a question. “He know you’re here?”

“He knows,” Stacy said. “I told him.”

Ange chuckled and nodded at the condoms. “And he’s okay with that?”

Stacy shrugged, not wanting to admit that he hadn’t told Darian whyhe wanted to see Ange again. In a wounded voice, he asked, “Are we going to fuck or what?”

“That how you ask him?” Ange wanted to know.

“We don’t,” Stacy admitted. He sighed and tossed the condoms onto the hood of the car. “Look Ange. He’s still my teacher. He’s letting me stay with him because I don’t have anywhere else to go, and he said he’s interested but I have to finish the program first. So we’re sleeping in separate rooms and we don’t—he doesn’t…we aren’t doing anything yet, okay? It’s hard as shit not to jump his bones every time we’re alone, I’m jerking off every damn night, I need some relief. This has never been a problem between us before.”

Softly, Ange answered, “You were with Lamar before.”

“What the hell’s that got to do with anything?” Stacy wanted to know. “I thought we were friends, Ange.”

Faint lines around Ange’s mouth tightened. “We are.”

Stacy started, “Then why—”

“This guy is good for you.” Ange kept his voice dangerously low, but a muscle in his temple twitched. Stacy saw that twitch and wished he hadn’t pushed it—he knew Ange too well, knew his friend was pissed. “Don’t fuck this up, Stacy. What do you think he’ll say when he finds out we got together? Have you thought that far ahead yet? Or is this going to be the same thing you had with Lamar?”

Anger filled Stacy like vengeance. “He’s nothinglike Lamar.”

“Then don’t treat him like Lamar,” Ange shot back. “Don’t screw around on him the way you did before, Stacy. Here’s a newsflash for you—most guys don’t play the field when they’re with someone. Darian sounds perfect for you. He’s a step up at least, a way out of this shitty life, so don’t you darethrow that away, entiende? I won’t let you.”

So much for a quick hook up. So much for Ange. “What the fuck is it to you anyway?” Stacy asked, crossing his arms and glaring at his friend. “Why do you care if Darian finds out? At least you get off.”

With two steps, Ange closed the distance between them to get in Stacy’s face. His sweet, clean scent was overpowering, making Stacy’s resolve and anger crumble, but his eyes were hard chinks of obsidian in the stern set of his face. “I care about you, Stacy,” he whispered, his voice like the purr of a tiger, low and deadly. “I’ve always said you were too good for this shit, and finally someone else comes along who thinks so, too, only you’re too damn blind to see how easily you can throw away the one good chance you’ve got to get out of here. Start thinking with the right head, amigo.”

He jabbed Stacy’s temple with a hard finger to make his point. “Let this guy rescue you already and leave the rest of us here in the ghetto where we belong. Don’t let us drag you down again. I’m not going to be the one to hold you back.”

The sting of tears burned Stacy’s eyes and throat. “Ange,” he tried. When he blinked, the world around him shattered into a prism and Ange’s face blurred. “I like you—”

Ange’s face softened. “And I like you, monada. I like you a lot. Too much to let you fuck up your life.”

“I’m not—”

“Damn it, Stacy!” Ange whirled away, his body rigid. “You’re too goddamn stubborn to see that you can’t keep this up forever. Darian isn’t going to want a lover who sleeps around, is he? Sooner or later you’ll be back where you started because you threw everything else away. Then what, huh? Tell me, then what?”

A hot tear coursed down Stacy’s cheek. To his friend’s back, he pleaded, “I don’t see why this bothers you so much, Ange. It’s just us at the moment, right? Why keep bringing Darian into it? Why do you even careabout him?”

“I care about you.”

His friend’s back stiffened and Stacy reached out for him, but his hand curled into a useless fist before he could touch Ange’s squared shoulders. He wanted those sinewy arms around him, those strong legs laced through his, that body pressing him to the sofa as Ange entered him…why this fighting then? Why the argument, this debate? He didn’t come for this, wouldn’thave come if he’d known there’d be such drama. It was so unlike his friend. Ange was the quiet one who kept his emotions in check. Ange never yelled at him before, never fought with him. Where was this coming from?

In a small voice he didn’t recognize as his own, Stacy sobbed, “Why—”

“Because I love you,” Ange told him.