Don’t Talk to Strangers: A Novel by Amanda Kyle Williams Read Free Book Online

extra-strength Tylenol with a bulge in the center.
    “Stop staring at his junk,” Jimmy whispered.
    “You were staring at it. Besides, look at it. It’s like there’s a little face under
     there looking back.”
    We put in our orders and downed bottles of water while we waited—a double-shot, skim
     milk cappuccino for me and a caramel high rise for Jimmy, which appeared to be ninety
     percent whipped cream and caramel sauce. Our sweet tooths had been nurtured early
     as testers for Mother’s kitchen creations. Jimmy had been a good student and became
     an accomplished cook himself. Me, I just learnedhow to eat. I’m really good at it. Fortunately, I have a metabolism that burns through
     food like a Colorado wildfire, something genetic, I thought, inherited from the biological
     parents I didn’t remember—two drug addicts and one exotic dancer. They’d handed me
     off to my grandparents as an infant, thank goodness, and rushed off to pursue their
     dream of procuring, smoking, snorting, and shooting into their veins as many drugs
     as possible. The money stuffed into my mother’s skimpy bra probably funded their binges.
     I remember my grandparents, though the sound of their voices and the gentleness in
     their faces has been eclipsed over the years by their murder.
    Jimmy and I took a table near the window. This had become part of our routine too.
     I was seven when my parents adopted Jimmy. He was five. We had bonded instantly—a
     scrawny, geeky Chinese girl and an equally scrawny black boy. I’d been living with
     Howard and Emily Street almost two years at the time. I’d learned to trust them. My
     faith in their stability and the presence of another child in the house had helped
     give Jimmy a comfortable landing in his new home. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to
     protect my gentle brother from the bullying he’d take in the world. By high school,
     our population was more diverse. I didn’t look so different from everyone else anymore.
     But my dark-skinned, light-eyed, soft-spoken brother didn’t fit anyone’s mold. And
     he didn’t fight back when they pushed him around and called him a faggot. He begged
     me not to fight for him. But I did. Because that’s who I am—cocked and ready to fire.
     Jimmy just wanted out. He left as soon as he graduated with a bitter taste he would
     always associate with the South.
    “Any word from the agency?” I asked. After nine years together Jimmy and Paul had
     decided to have a child.
    “We’re flying to Boston next week. She’s four months’ pregnant.” Jimmy looked out
     onto Piedmont Avenue. The sun was burning through, and the streetlights had clicked
     off. “We’ll get to meet the father this time too. They seem like nice kids. They’re
     just not ready to be parents and they don’t care that we’re gay or interracial.”
    “I hope it works out,” I told him. I meant it. I thought they would make good parents.
    “Me too,” Jimmy said. “Because you know if it doesn’t we’ll end up adopting a pair
     of Chihuahuas and putting them in tiaras.”
    I nodded. “It just escalates from there. First a tiara, then a tutu.”
    “Ankle bracelets,” Jimmy added. “Chihuahua playgroups.”
    “Slippery slope,” I agreed.
    He set his coffee on the table and studied me with striking pale eyes that always
     seemed bluer against his dark skin. “How is it with Aaron?”
    “We’re still in the honeymoon phase. Kind of. I’m trying to enjoy it while it lasts.”
    “Rose-colored glasses as usual,” Jimmy said.
    I smiled. “I’m cautiously optimistic. That’s a step forward, isn’t it?” I pushed my
     blueberry muffin over to him. “I have a meeting across the street. And I have a job
     out of town. You want the shitty muffin?”
    “Not if it sucks.” Jimmy sipped sugary foam off hot coffee. “How long you away?”
    “I think I’m going to need a couple of days at least. Count me out on the next run.”
    “Sounds