Finding Home (19 page)

She was surprised he had no tattoos or piercings anywhere she could see. She’d assumed he would, but when she thought about it, realized he wouldn’t waste his money on a useless expense like body art.

After all of the months of wanting him and resisting desire, she couldn’t believe he was here now in her bed, sleeping naked and vulnerable and all hers to touch and hold and have.

Amazing and unbelievable.

ZY

On Friday, Sasha emailed Megan first thing to summon her to a girls’ night out that evening. Stevie was out of town for the weekend on some business trip, so they could hit a bar then go back to Sasha’s for a late night drink and a chat. It was a ritual the two of them went through a few times a year and a rare opportunity for Megan to be a girl’s girl. She always hung around with guys and it made a nice change now and then to talk fashion, boys, and cute asses with a girlfriend.

They started off slow at a bar downtown, near where Sasha worked, but Megan kept it under control because she was driving. At ten, Sasha suggested the pair of them go back to her apartment for a bottle of wine and a bite to eat as well as some more cozy girl talk. They picked up some Chinese takeout on the way home and a couple of bottles of chardonnay. Megan dug into the kung-po chicken the minute they hit the kitchen, while Sasha opened the wine. Megan was starving these days, and she wondered how much of it had to do with all the sex she was having.

When the food was dispatched, they moved to the living room, Sasha keeping up a steady stream of chatter about work, the colleagues she liked, this one girl who was a bitch, and how advertising was full of flakes. Megan listened and poured them each another glass of chardonnay. God, it had been a while since she and Sasha spent an evening together without the guys. Sometimes she almost forgot how much fun Sasha was when she wasn’t busy being annoyed at Stevie.

“So, come on, Megan, enough of my bullshit,” Sasha said. “What’s been happening in your sex life? I mean, you know how dull mine is, what with all the working until two a.m. and weekends that Stevie’s doing. I swear I should take a lover. He’d never notice.”

“You? Cheating on Stevie? That’d be the day.” Megan laughed. “I mean, not that you couldn’t find a lover easily if you did want to.”

“You say that, Meg, but you know, I’ve had offers…”
“Exactly, you have offers, you pass. You stay faithful to Stevie. Come on, Sash, it was the same at school. Otherwise, you would’ve slept with Mark Riddell. He was cute.”

“I can’t believe you’re throwing Mark in my face again. You must still be jealous… Anyhow, you’re sidestepping my question, what’s been up with you?”

“Oh, you know. Nothing much.” She took another long gulp of white wine.

“Nothing, really?”

Megan avoided her gaze.
“Do you and James still… get it on now and then?” Sasha asked, and Megan seized the opportunity.

“Sometimes. Not that long ago, actually.”
“Oh.” Sasha’s mouth dropped slightly open. “I was joking. You guys really still sleep together?”

“Come on, Sash, don’t be such a prude. Yes, we do. Once in a while. He never has any long-term girlfriends, and you know I don’t do boyfriends these days, so…”

“Yeah. I just thought… I mean, why don’t you guys go out together? Remind me.”

“Because we’d kill each other inside a week, that’s why. And you totally know that. Can you imagine us as a couple?”

Sasha laughed and swigged from her glass. “Well, you should consider it. You’re looking happier today than I’ve seen you in a while. If sleeping with James puts that kind of smile on your face, then you should do it more often.”

Megan bent her head down toward her wineglass in an attempt to keep her face hidden. She kept forgetting how perceptive Sasha was, how observant.

“No, it’s not just that. Work’s going well at the moment, you know. I got my piece published, and Rossi’s going to give me more assignments. That’s why I’m happy.”

“Nuh-huh,” said Sasha. “That’s not a work face you’ve got on. It’s an ‘I’m getting some’ face. I’m glad you said you’ve been sleeping with James, though, because I was seriously beginning to wonder about you and Sean.”

Megan choked mid-mouthful and nearly inhaled the wine. “You what?” she spluttered, summoning as much indignation as she could muster. “You’re completely crazy.” But she couldn’t bring herself to look Sasha in the eye. She knocked her glass over accidentally on purpose so she could get up and fetch some paper towels to mop up the spill.

“Just so you know,” Sasha said when Megan walked back in with a handful of towels, “I was almost ready to believe you until you knocked the glass over.”

Megan sat down heavily, the bunched-up towels in her hand. “Oh, fuck.”

“You really are, aren’t you?” Sasha put down her glass and wrapped her hands around her knees, leaning slightly forward toward Megan.

Megan grimaced. “Yeah, okay. I am sleeping with Sean. Fuck it, Sasha, you cannot tell the guys. Stevie hasn’t even met him and he already wants to strangle him, and James—oh, Christ, James will strangle me.”

“Oh, God, I knew this was going to happen.”
“You did?”
“The sexual chemistry with this guy… I don’t know. I wasn’t really getting a gay vibe off him. And the way you guys looked at each other at the bar that night we went out was steamy! Oh, but Megan, do you really know what you’re doing?”

“I know you already think I’m crazy to have taken him in, but…” Sasha waved her down. “Yes, well, you know how I felt about that. Moving in with a street hustler? Most stupid thing ever. And I was wrong.

He didn’t try to rob you and strangle you in your bed. But sleeping with him? Getting involved with him?“

“I know. But he’s… He’s not a kid. He really isn’t. And he’s not as fucked up as you’d expect, either. He’s just a young—man trying to get his life together and we kind of, you know, click together.”

“He’s a boy and it’s statutory rape,” Sasha said flatly.

Megan groaned and dropped her head into her hands. “You make it sound so…wrong. Listen, I know it’s wrong. But it also feels right. And he’s almost eighteen, anyhow, so no, it wouldn’t count as statutory rape—please, give me a break here. I feel guilty enough as it is.” She knew how hollow and fake her arguments sounded now she was serving them up to someone else. But she also knew nothing was going to stop her from sleeping with Sean. Nothing. She’d already lost that fight.

Sasha frowned. “You are just unbelievable. Is the sex worth it, at least?”

“Oh, Sasha, you have no idea,” Megan answered truthfully.

Sasha snorted into her wine glass. “That amazing, huh?”

Megan looked down at her hands, torn between her natural reserve and a desire to share, fuelled by the fact she hadn’t been able to talk about Sean to anyone and by the wine, which always made her more talkative. “Honestly, I’ve never experienced anything like that in bed. We just… I don’t know. The chemistry is out of this world and he’s fantastic. Unbelievably fantastic.”

She smiled at Sasha, feeling suddenly shy. “I didn’t know sex could be like that. And I’ve had, you know, my fair share of good sex. But this is…” She trailed off.

Sasha leaned back against the chair and closed her eyes. “Okay, enough. Because he’s already pretty hot and if you keep going on like that, I may try to jump his bones next time I see him.”

Megan smirked. “Hey, keep your filthy paws off him.”
“That reminds me. You guys are coming to Thanksgiving at my house next Thursday, aren’t you?”

Megan cut her off. “Yes. I already told my mom I wasn’t coming home. She wasn’t very happy. But I wouldn’t miss Thanksgiving with you guys for the world. What do you want us to bring?”

“What can you offer?” Sasha asked, reaching over for the bottle of wine and pouring another couple of glasses.

Megan picked up her glass and considered it thoughtfully.
“I can try my mom’s pumpkin pie. If it works out, it’s great. And if it doesn’t, I’ll buy one on the way.”

“Good enough for me,” Sasha said. She raised her glass.
“To pumpkin pie!”
“To pumpkin pie,” Megan repeated. “And to Thanksgiving with friends. Think I should tell the guys about Sean before we turn up?”

Sasha groaned. “Yes. You definitely should. I’ll do you a favor and tell Stevie. But you have to tell James.”

Megan debated telling James on the phone, then turned up at the bar where he worked at the end of his shift.

He was chatting to the manager, his jacket slung over his shoulder, when she walked in. “Hey Meg! That’s a nice surprise. What’s up?”

“I need to talk to you.” She felt awkward and wished she’d stuck with the phone option.

James looked at her closely but didn’t ask. He waved a vague goodbye to his boss and followed Megan out onto the street.

“Seriously, what is up? You look tense.”
“Nothing, really,” Megan hedged. “I just want to tell you something. Can we go for a drink somewhere? Somewhere that isn’t your workplace?”

They ended up in a sports bar a couple of blocks down, which was loud enough for their conversation to be private, without being too noisy to talk.

“The thing is,” Megan said when she returned from the bar with a couple of beers, “I’m going to take Sean to Thanksgiving at Sasha’s.”

“Yeah? Well I guess he doesn’t have anywhere else to go, so… It’s cool. He’s not such a bad guy, actually. We got along the other night.”

“No, he doesn’t have anywhere to go, but it’s not just that. He’s…actually, he’s coming as my date.” Megan folded her paper napkin, bracing for James’ reaction.

He narrowed his eyes at her in disbelief. “Your date?” The word snapped with a crisp click.

“Yes.”
“As in, the guy you’re fucking?”

Megan breathed in, counted to three and breathed out, willing herself to be calm. “Yes.”

“You’re shitting me. You’re fucking the hustler?” He leaned forward on his folded arms and stared at her, hard.

“Please, James, don’t…” Megan began.
“Don’t what? It’s the truth, right? He’s a whore, or ex-whore, whatever.”

“James…” She clenched the napkin in her hand.
“So do you have some sort of deal? He fucks you in exchange for a roof over his head?” He gestured with his hand, almost knocking over his beer.

“No! Fuck off! It’s not like that! Don’t you dare accuse me of that kind of shit!” Megan’s anger surged, and she fought off an undercurrent of panic. It was bad enough she’d worried about the issue. She hadn’t expected her friends to think her capable of that. Then again, James had his own axe to grind.

“Why not?” he asked. “I mean, the kid’s gay, right? His clients were men?”

“They were, but he isn’t. He’s straight.”
“He’s straight, and he was fucking guys for cash? That’s…fucked up.” “Oral sex, not fucking.” Megan tossed the crumpled napkin down, furious at herself for feeling she had to clarify what Sean had done, as if the specifics were any of James’ business. “And it was a job, okay, a way to survive. It’s not like there’s a lot of call for heterosexual boys on the streets. You don’t see women cruising to pick up kids.”

“Fuck, I’d rather steal than suck some guy’s dick for cash.” James grimaced in disgust. Megan’s hand itched to slap that look off his face.

“Yeah?” she snapped. “Well try being brought up by a crackhead mom and having to look after yourself on the streets at sixteen. I’d like to see how you’d have survived what Sean went through.”

James shrugged away her accusations. “And now
you’re
fucking him? That sounds like a great idea. Way to go, Meg.”

“You’re not exactly a font of good advice on relationships yourself.” Megan took a long pull at her beer in an attempt to keep her emotions under control.

“Yeah, well at least I steer clear of actual whores. By the way, should I get tested for diseases?”

“What?” Megan spluttered. “No! If you mean… No. It all happened after that night. Fuck you! You’re just saying that to piss me off.”

“I just hope you guys practice safe sex is all.” The bitterness in James’ voice made Megan cringe. She resisted the urge to accuse him of being jealous because it was so obvious he was. This was going all wrong, and if he was going to act like this on Thanksgiving, there was little point in turning up.

“Look, can we try to keep it civilized at Thanksgiving, at any rate? You said you got along with Sean all right the other night. I know you hate what I’m doing and you’re probably angry because you’re worried about me…”

“And I think you can do a lot better than a fucking whore.”
“James! Don’t call him that!” Her protective instincts took over. She couldn’t stand to hear Sean demeaned like that. But she was supposed to be placating James, so she continued more quietly. “Can you please keep it cool on Thursday? Please?”

He drained his beer, placed the bottle carefully back on the table without looking into her eyes, and got up. “I can’t promise anything. But I’ll try. For you and for Sasha. But if I was doing anything half as stupid as that, you wouldn’t be giving
me
the benefit of the doubt.”

He stalked off.

Megan watched him go with a sinking feeling. He was absolutely right on that count. If James had been shacking up with an underage prostitute, she wouldn’t have let him get away with it. She dropped her head in her hands and groaned. Perhaps Thanksgiving with her parents would’ve been easier.

ZY

On Thursday morning, Sean and Megan dragged themselves out of bed, a difficult task as Sean kept using very convincing arguments with fingers, mouth and tongue to get her to linger between the sheets. They attacked her mom’s famous pumpkin pie recipe. Already, she’d cheated by buying a pie shell and some canned pumpkin puree.

Together they mixed the puree with cream, maple syrup, eggs, spices and flour, filled the shell and put it in the oven. While Megan took a shower and got ready, Sean watched over the baking since the oven was notoriously unreliable. The end result was a surprisingly professional-looking pie.

“I can’t believe we nailed it!” This was definitely the best-looking pie she’d ever made with that recipe and she attributed it largely to Sean’s even-handed measuring and ability to keep an eye on a hot oven while washing up and tidying the kitchen.