The Foster Family (10 page)

Malcolm shook his head. “Patience, grasshopper.”

There was no mistaking the hunger on his face, even from that fuzzy distance, and Charlie all but dragged him out of the room.

I stared after them as they left me lying there, practically begging them to use me up. They kept getting me hard and leaving me hanging, and I was supposed to trust them? How the hell did that work? I grabbed the clothes and stuffed myself, boner and all, into them. Served him right if I leaked all over his nice silky boxers, the prick.

In the kitchen, Malcolm stood in front of the stove and Charlie behind him, kneading on his shoulders as Malcolm spoke in a voice that was too soft. Too fractured. And he was telling Charlie
my
story.

“Hey!” I stalked over and grabbed the wooden spoon out of his hand. “You don’t get to share that shit. That’s mine. If I want to tell him, that’s my fucking business.”

“I am going to have to wash your mouth out with soap,” Malcolm said mildly, rummaging in a drawer for a spoon that he dipped in the sauce and blew on. There was nothing broken or even cracked about his tone when he spoke to me. He brought the spoon to Charlie’s lips, and his lover licked it, managing to make even that obscene.

I groaned. I hadn’t realized I’d closed my eyes until I felt them both looking at me and opened them again. “What?”

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “You might be the horniest person I’ve met in a long, long time. And, you know, I’m pretty horny.”

I snarled at him and turned my back. Why I was staying, I couldn’t have said. Until a big hand—I had no idea whose because I refused to look—landed on my shoulder and squeezed. “Didn’t say it was a bad thing,” Charlie said. “Just an observation.”

“You want to watch me jack off?” I asked, spitting venom. “Because I’m ready now.” I had my hands on the waistband of the pants when Malcolm spoke.

“No.”

I froze.

“Set the table. Pasta will be ready in a few minutes. Charlie, pour some wine.”

“I don’t know where you keep your shi—” Charlie’s hand on my shoulder tightened. “—tools,” I corrected, and he relaxed.

Charlie snorted. “Same place you do, squirt.” He squeezed hard and turned me to face a bank of drawers. “Top drawer.” He had the nerve to slap my ass, and I glared at him.

That got me a smirk.

I rooted myself to the spot and crossed my arms. “If there are going to be rules, then I get to make some.”

Silence.

“Well?”

Charlie sighed and went to the fridge for wine.

Malcolm watched me through narrowed eyes. “The rules are this,” he said. “No swearing, you respect our space, we respect yours. No lying. No refraining from telling the truth, just in case you thought to use that loophole.” He moved away from the stove to pull open the top drawer. “When I tell you to do something, you do it.”

Charlie set three glasses on the counter and proceeded to open a bottle of white wine, calm as could be.

“Why do you get to make all the rules?”

“Didn’t I say he was the boss?” Charlie asked. “I could have sworn I said that.”

“We’re all grown men,” I protested.

Charlie’s brows went up, and he handed Malcolm a glass as he looked me over, head to toe. “Some more grown than others.”

“Asshole.”

Malcolm’s hand shot out and he slapped the back of my head so fast I nearly bit my tongue.

“Hey!”

“Apologize,” he said, glaring hard at me.

I pursed my lips.

He crossed his arms and tilted his head.

Charlie stood with his glass halfway to his mouth and his eyes flicking back and forth between us.

“Sorry, Charlie.”

He shrugged and sipped his wine. “I can be somewhat abrasive. I’ll try not to make any more short jokes.”

“I’m not short.”

They snickered.

I was a good head shorter than either of them and a lot skinnier. “I’m svelte.” I tossed Malcolm a look.
How’s that for vocabulary?

“Pasta’s ready to drain. Where’s the colander, Charlie?”

Charlie smirked. “In the sink, oh master, my master.”

A smile cracked Malcolm’s dour expression, and I breathed out a sigh. Neither of them looked at me or watched as I began laying utensils and place mats on the table and found a pitcher of water in the fridge. Malcolm mixed pasta, Charlie handed me plates and glasses, and it was… comfortable. Domestic, even. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so normal.

When everything was set out on the table and we had toasted to the day being mostly survived, everyone sat.

Silence stretched uncomfortably, steam from the casserole pot floating up through the tense moment. Malcolm sipped his wine and spread his napkin over his lap.

Charlie watched him uncomfortably.

“What?” I asked, glancing between them.

“Is this fair?” Charlie asked. “I don’t think he knows—”

I interrupted him with a growl of annoyance. “I get it,” I said, standing and reaching for the serving spoon.

Malcolm stopped me with a glower, and I sank back into my chair.

“You don’t get it,” he said.

There was no expression in his face, no clue to go by. Was I supposed to serve them? Like with the coffee, when I really hadn’t known the household dynamic? Or was I supposed to just sit there and wait for permission? After another tense moment had passed, I let out a sigh.

“I don’t understand,” I admitted at last.

“Do you want to eat?” Malcolm asked.

Of course my stomach growled on cue because he’d drawn my attention to the fact I was starving.

The sound drew a smile from him and a small chuckle from Charlie.

I wanted to toss off another smart remark, but for all his sternness, Malcolm didn’t look annoyed or angry. He was just waiting for me to answer.

“Yes, I want to eat.” I managed to keep my tone level and polite and he acknowledged that with a small nod.

“So?” Malcolm studied me, waiting.

“So make sure there’s enough for you and Charlie and serve you both first,” I said.

He smiled at me and nodded. “Simple rules, Kerry. There’s always a choice.”

“Serve you first or go hungry?” Didn’t seem like much of a choice to me.

“Serve us first because you’re the boy.” His smile wasn’t mocking or cruel. It was more like indulgent, and it made my heart skip a few beats and my hands shake. “Or sit and wait until we’ve eaten and if there’s anything left, serve yourself once we’ve left the table. I wouldn’t make you starve, just observe protocol.”

And eat alone if I messed up. That idea made my stomach twist in a whole other, unhappy way.

“Okay.” I rose and lifted the lid from our dinner. It smelled heavenly, and my stomach growled again. Spooning out a generous portion, I served Malcolm, then Charlie, then myself.

“Thank you,” Malcolm said as I retook my seat. He picked up his fork and began to eat.

Charlie beamed at me and nodded when I glanced his way. “Thanks, squirt.”

I wrinkled my nose, but they were obviously pleased with me. I’d overcome some hurdle, passed some test, and I had to admit, pleasing them was a rush way more intense than spooging all over their shower would have been. It lasted longer too.

We were sitting around the table after dinner, sipping the last of the wine when Charlie tossed me a wide grin. “I got you something today,” he said.

“Me?”

He laughed at the sound of my voice, squeaky and surprised.

“Yeah you, sprite. Wait here.” He scrambled from his chair to the front door, and we listened to him rummaging for a few minutes before he came back and handed me a small, flat box about the size of his hand.

“What’s this?”

“Open it.” Malcolm gently pushed my knee with his foot. “Find out.”

I pried off the lid and lifted a swatch of tissue off a square of butter-soft tan leather. “Charlie.” I ran a finger over the surface. “This is too expensive.”

“Let the man do something nice for you, Kerry,” Malcolm ordered, and when I glanced over at him, he wasn’t exactly smiling.

“But—”

“Kerry, it’s just a wallet. You need a new one and I thought….” Charlie shrugged. “It’s like the one you had.”

“It’s about a thousand times better than the one I had.”

“Not even you can wear this one out, though,” Charlie said. “Well. Unless you drop it in the ocean too.”

I grinned as I dumped the wallet into my palm. “I won’t, I promise.” I caressed the soft leather and Charlie chuckled.

“You like it?”

“It’s gorgeous.” When I looked up at him, he was gazing down on me like I’d just done some spectacular thing. “What?”

His grin fluttered. “You’re adorable.” Before I could move, he ducked down and pecked my lips, fast and sweet, and was gone again. “Thank you.”

“For what? You gave me the gift,” I reminded him.

But he only smiled and took his seat at the table, and when I glanced at Malcolm, he was smiling at Charlie, and how was I supposed to refuse? I went to the bathroom where I’d left my pile of ID and coins and loaded it all into the wallet. Probably I shouldn’t have accepted it, but it was more than just a few pieces of leather sewn together. It was the look on Charlie’s face when I accepted it and the way Malcolm looked seeing Charlie happy. It would be very, very easy to let them spoil me stupid if I wasn’t careful.

L
ISSA
ACTUALLY
waited until well into the evening, after dinner and cleanup were done and we were relaxing in the living room, before calling Malcolm’s home number. I’d expected her to call around dinnertime looking for me. Malcolm had an amused smile on his face when he handed me the receiver.

“What, Lissa?” A hand tapped the back of my head, and I looked up to see Malcolm frowning at me. “Sorry,” I said, with less annoyance in my voice than I felt. “What’s up?”

“Hi, honey. I was just locking up the house. You got the key I left?”

“I got the key.” I thought about it lying on the bathroom counter with my new wallet and my cheap, scratched-up old watch. “I don’t think I’ll need it tonight.”

“Kerr, I’m really sorry. I was out of line—”

“No, you weren’t, really. And it struck a nerve. Sorry I bitch—” I glanced at Malcolm, who only watched me steadily. “—snapped like that.”

“I’m worried about you. If you’re staying away because of what I said, please don’t.”

I glanced to where Charlie and Malcolm had moved to the kitchen and were leaning on the counter, sipping decaf and pretending not to eavesdrop on my conversation. I turned my back on them to move to the far end of the living room. “I know you’re worried, and you’re not the only one. I promise I’m okay and I’m not mad. That isn’t why I’m not coming there.”

“I just don’t want you to jump into anything because you’re feeling….”

“Vulnerable?”

She chuckled softly and sounded embarrassed but agreed.

“I tried. Believe me, I tried. But they’re not like that.”

“But you’re still not coming home.”

“Liss, I love you but I don’t really live there. It isn’t my home.”

“It is until you find a place.”

“Hello. I can’t afford a place. Have you seen my paychecks? Oh! That’s right, you sign them.”

“Funny. You could let me help you with first and last, you know. Or just accept that my home is your home for now.” She made a sound of mock annoyance. “I brought Miss Priss home for you.”

“Miss Claire,” I corrected. “Don’t make fun of her. She doesn’t like it.”

“She’s a cat.”

“A very sensitive one.”

“Whatever.” There was a pause and a small sigh and I swear I could hear Miss Claire purring in the background. “My home is your home, Kerry. I mean it.”

“No. You’re my boss. Not my caseworker. Not my moneylender. I can’t live on your couch forever. That’s not going to be a long-term solution. And anyway, I know I can come back when I need to, okay? I know that, I promise.”

There was a long pause that was only really seconds but stretched into infinity over the phone. “Okay,” she said at last. “But Kerr, that’s their home. Not yours. Please remember that.”

“Can you give me just a little benefit of the doubt here?”

“Just that you sometimes jump into things with guys. I don’t think you really give yourself enough credit.”

Was this to be the week’s recurring theme or what? I was not as down on myself as everyone seemed to think.

“Anyway,” she went on, “bed surfing is not really a legitimate housing solution, either.”

“Oh my God, Liss, really? I had no idea.”

“I worry.”

“Worry to yourself for a bit, babe. I’m okay. I already told you they had an open invitation. Literally.” I thought about how I’d put myself on display for them, legs wide, and been summarily turned down. “All they did was give me a job, feed me, and let me borrow their shorts. I swear.”

“So far.”

“So far,” I agreed, because she was no more idiot than I was. “Trust me.”

She actually snorted, and I should have been offended, but it was Lissa, and probably, at this point in my life, she knew me better than any other living soul. And she might have been a little bit right about the guy thing.

“You’re my touchstone,” I told her. “Never forget that.”