Talker by Amy Lane Read Free Book Online

continued, and Brian scowled; the guy
    sounded like an asshole already and Brian hadn’t even met him.
    “Tate, don’t do this,” he said quietly, and Tate scowled up at
    him.
    “Brian, man, I’m sorry I cal ed you ‘G ranola,’ but please… just
    let me have a date. Just let me get this over with, you know?
    You’ve had girls like Virginia. I haven’t had anyone.”
    “You’ve got me!”
    Tate rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Jesus, try to be
    serious with a guy.”

    AUNT LYNDIE heard this part of the story and shook her head with
    a smile. “O uch,” she said quietly.
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    Brian looked at her with wide eyes and nodded. “Yeah! That’s
    what I’m saying!” O h thank G od—someone who thought he was
    serious.
    “So, did you tell him and make it stick?”
    Brian grimaced, embarrassed. “I thought I’d wait until he got
    back from his date,” he said with a sigh. “It was stupid—I know it
    was stupid. But the last time he went out just to get laid, it was just
    such a disaster. I didn’t expect….” O h Jesus, he real y hadn’t. “I
    real y didn’t expect this one to be worse.”
    Lyndie put down her iced tea and grabbed Brian’s shaking,
    clammy hand.
    “O kay,” she said, and damn, he thought, she was real y wise.
    “In what way worse?”

    THE guy’s name was Trevor: he looked like a calendar pinup and
    knew it. He cast Brian a smarmy look as Brian opened the door,
    and Brian returned it with a scowl. Bastard. E xpensively cut black
    hair, designer jeans, pricey button-up shirt, celebrity kicks on the
    feet. Liked to show off his money like it meant something.
    “Hey,” Trevor said as he shook Brian’s hand. “The straight
    roommate. How you doing, big guy—gonna go get laid tonight?”
    “It’s not on the menu,” Brian said tightly. “So what did you say
    you did again?”
    “Not on the menu? Too bad, man, because I’m gonna get
    me…” Trevor trailed off as Tate dashed from the bathroom to his
    bedroom, giving an “in-a-minute” wave as he went, “I’m gonna get
    me some sweet ass tonight. Too bad you don’t know what you’re
    missing.”
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    “Too bad you don’t know what you’re getting,” Brian muttered,
    and Trevor gave him a quick look.
    “What’s that?”
    “He’s a good guy. You need to treat him nice.”
    Trevor smirked. “That kind of kid? He don’t want to be treated
    nice, sweetie—he just wants the treatment, you know what I
    mean?”
    “That’s not Tate!” Brian said, feeling a nasty bout of worry
    congeal in his stomach and start to ferment. Trevor didn’t hear him.
    Tate was trotting down the hal , wearing his leather jacket and a
    new set of rainbow studs winking from his tattooed ear.
    Trevor grabbed his hand with a proprietary air that made Brian
    a little il , and hauled him in for a kiss that Brian would have saved
    for the darkest corner of a crowded hal , if in public at al . Tate
    looked up from the kiss dreamily and threw Brian an optimistic grin.
    Brian managed a sick smile back.
    “Don’t wait up,” Tate said, and then he closed his eyes like it
    was too painful to see what Brian would say to that.
    “Don’t do anything you don’t want to,” Brian told him in
    desperation, and Tate wrinkled his nose in a characteristic attempt
    to brush off any worry whatsoever.
    “Baby, ain’t much I don’t want to do!” he said, winking, and
    then Trevor rol ed his eyes and practical y shoved him out the door.
    But Tate was looking over his shoulder as he went. His face
    was bare of powder, and Brian would always regret that. O f all the
    nights for Tate to have some extra protection from an indifferent
    world, this would have been the one.
    Brian worked that night. When he got home, the door was
    open a little, and there was a light on in the bathroom. F or a
    moment, Brian felt a profound sense of relief. Tate was back.
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    Screw the open door (like they had much