The People in Rossford

“It was amazing,” Brian told Todd in a hushed voice as they sat in the window seat of the living room and Adele and Fenn cleaned up the kitchen. “He was just… this hot little thing, and he came up to me, he was so cute, and bold. And soft.”

“Soft?”

“You know,” Brian said, taking Todd’s hand and running it over his rough cheek, as if this proved something. “The way boys are when their young: soft, baby face, soft—”

“Soft round ass!”

“Yes,” Brian chuckled. “Yes, that too. All that firmness and softness. And there he was, just… with that heat. You know, that heat young boys have. And I thought to myself, I’m going to take him home.”

“Brian, you’ve taken guys home before. You took me home.”

“That was totally different. When we had what we had that was a little more than just meeting a stranger, and I was younger, I had just come out of that soft young boy stage myself.”

Todd shook his head. “You were never in a soft young boy stage. And neither was I.”

“We were hardened,” Brian said with mock ire, tightening his eyes. “And bitter to the world.”

“A little bit,” Todd admitted.

“I was just so uninhibited. We just went back and…”

“Fucked?”

Brian looked shocked.

“Well,” he said, at last. “Yes… I mean, eventually that’s exactly what we did. But there was just so much fun leading up to it. It was just… like…”

“One of those fun pornos where guys just fuck and actually like it.”

“Yes. The romantic ones where you go, I wish life could be like that. And then we just fell asleep.”

“Oh, that is so hot!” Todd put his chin in his fist.

“And then I woke up to do some work, and he was like, ‘Do I have to go?’” Brian grabbed Todd’s fist and rocked it.

“And I said, ‘No, you just stay right there. I’ll be back.’”

Todd nodded.

“And he had this adorable smile on his face. And his hair was tousled and… his butt was so, round and soft and… I mean, I wanted to pounce right then, but I had work to do, so I did it.”

“And then did you do him again?”

“God, Todd! He was insatiable. We basically repeated all of last night until right before I took a shower and came here. Then, as he was leaving—he had this cute little red tee shirt and these faded jeans that really fit his thighs—he hugged me and he was like, ‘Thank you’ It was like the perfect night. It was so…”

“Hot?”

“Hot,” Brian agreed. “Definitely.”

Fenn came out of the kitchen saying. “Are you two still going on about Joe Callan?”

Smirking, Brian and Todd looked up at him.

“No,” Todd said. “Not at all.”

And then they looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Fenn shook his head and went back to the kitchen, “Like a pair of school girls,” he muttered. “Like a pair of school girls.”

From the kitchen, Layla shouted: “I resent that!”

“A child?” Fenn took a sip of coffee.

“I know!” Lee said.

“Goddamn. Well, did he cry?”

Lee looked at his cousin blankly.

“I said, did he cry?” Fenn repeated. Then Fenn said, “He cried.”

Fenn explained, “He gets that way sometimes. It throws you off because you don’t really picture Tom as that type. I mean, that’s why I fell for him. But then every once in awhile he does a little tap dance, or sings some Broadway musical shit. Or he just starts to cry. It will fuck your shit up.”

Lee said, “I was sworn to secrecy.”

“Well, you didn’t tell it. I just knew it. What did you say when he started that crying, that, ‘Oh Lee, I’m so sad! Waaaah!’”

“Stop that,” Lee said, not entirely seriously.

“I will not. I lived with it for damn near ten years. If you count the intervening years, twenty. He just throws those tears up on you and fucks you up.”

“I told him… I told him we could try to adopt a child.”

“You told him what! Have you gone soft in the head? What happened to Old Lee? Old Lee would have said fuck no.”

“Old Lee wasn’t in love with Tom.”

Fenn shook his head.

“I never thought how lucky I was,” he said. “To no longer be in love with Tom.”

“And what would you do if Todd said he wanted a baby?”

Fenn thought about this for a moment, and then said, “Probably lie to him and tell him I wanted one too.”

“See!”

“I see,” Fenn nodded his head. “But did you tell Tom you already have a child?”

“She doesn’t count.”

“She sure in the shit does. She was your daughter last time I checked.”

“Well, I haven’t seen her. It’s not likely she’ll turn up, and what’s more, she’s not Tom’s, so I’m sure she won’t make him feel any better. He wants a little baby. Danasia is a full grown criminal.”

“Danasia,” Fenn shook his head over the name.

“I didn’t name her that shit. That’s not on me.”

“No, that’s on Lemonade. And where the fuck is Lemonade?”

“He disappeared in time to tell us about Joe Callan, and I haven’t seen him since. Tom didn’t do too well with him.”

“No,” Fenn imagined. “I wouldn’t think he would have. Still, I always wished I’d slept with him.”

Lee looked at him.

“Oh, what? You’re sleeping with my ex on a daily basis and I can’t bring up Lemonade?”

“He was a criminal.”

“He is a criminal,” Fenn amended. “Which is why I only thoughtabout having sex with him. But… he is fine.”

“And what are you going to do if these adoption papers come through?”

“They won’t come through. I’m Black. We’re a gay couple living together for about three months. You know what that gets? Foster care for retarded, fucked up kids nobody wants. I saw it on Oprah. They won’t give you a real baby, but they’ll give you something fucked up, and then Oprah will come and talk about how big your heart is. And I told Tom that, and I told him I ain’t raising no fucked up babies.”

“You already raised Danasia.”

They were quiet a little longer, and then Fenn said, “You have to tell him about Danasia.”

“I never really saw the point.”

“But you do now,” Fenn prompted. He said, “Please tell me you do now?”

Lee said nothing. His face betrayed nothing. Then he put out his hand and tipped it. A little.

There was a thump at the door, and Paul shot up from the bed.

Kirk pulled him down.

“Don’t answer it, baby. Just fuck it.”

“Kirk!”

The thump came again.

“Someone is very rude,” Paul noted.

“Someone,” Kirk said, pulling him down and smoothing his hair, “is interrupting our time together.”

There was another rapid knocking at the door, and then Paul swore, climbed out of bed and pulled on his boxers.

“I’ll be right back,” he said.

“Good,” Kirk muttered, as Paul pulled the door closed, “Cause we both gotta be back at work in a half hour.”

Paul, pulled his hands through his hair, but did not see the need to wear actual clothes as he went to answer the blamming on the door.

“Knock it off all ready!” he shouted.

And the banging stopped.

When he answered it, a pretty, but worn out woman with dirty blond hair and a suitcase stood staring at him.

“You’re not Noah,” she said.

“No… I’m Paul.”

“His roommate?”

“Yes.”

The woman coming in with a suitcase on wheels behind her said: “I’m here to stay for a while. I’m Naomi.”

“Naomi?” Paul said.

Kirk had come out now, half dressed, shirttails hanging out of his pants.

“Yes,” she said, taking out a pack of Virginia Slims from her breast pocket and fumbling with a lighter. She tried to smile brightly, but it was stretched, and she was obviously scared.

“I’m Noah’s mama.”

“Noah!” Paul said when Noah walked into the apartment. He had that upset, stern older brother tone that, Noah noted, he never had in the old days but had all the time now. And Noah, playing his part, wailed, “Whaaaat?” like an upset teenager until he entered the kitchen and said, “Fuck!”

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” Naomi said with a sloppy smile, her face surrounded by cigarette smoke. The kitchen was filled with gray haze, and Noah could scarcely breathe.

“What are you…? Why are you?”

“Can’t I just come and visit my son?”

“I guess so…” Noah began. Then, shaking his head and coming back to his senses, he said, “No. Ma, why the hell are you here?”

“You’re a sharp boy,” Naomi said, wagging her finger and cackling.

“I’m on the run, you see?”

She didn’t wait for Noah to see, she just continued. “Bob Hugo came after me with a knife last night, and I hit the bastard in the head with an old crowbar, then took the car and came up here. I stopped at an I-Hop in East Carmel to eat breakfast. You come from there, don’t you?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Paul found himself saying.

“It’s a nice town,” Naomi said. “Nicer than Rummelsville. Well, I ate there, and washed a little in the bathroom. Then I gunned it all the way up here. And I can’t go back.”

“Well, you can’t stay here,” Noah said.

“Noah,” his mother reprimanded. “is that anyway to speak to the woman who wiped your ass and sucked the snot out of your nose?”

“I don’t really remember all that, Nay,” Noah shook his head. “I do remember you passed out drunk, me going hungry and you under half the men in Rummelsville, though.”

“And you under the other half!” Naomi started, indignantly, “You little faggot.”

“Get the fuck out,” Noah grabbed her wrist.

“I can’t!” Noami dug her heels in. Paul stepped away, not knowing what to do.

Noah was small, but he was strong, stronger than Naomi, and he pulled her out of the kitchen.

“You get the fuck out,” he growled. “You and your stinkin’ cigarettes, and your fucking raggedy suitcase on wheels.”

“Where am I supposed to go?”

“The Holliday Inn! Or better yet, do what me and Paul had to do. You go out and you find your own fucking way. You go out on the corner and turn a few tricks,” he said, grunting as he pulled her to the door. “Just like I did. Just like you always did. Only this time,” he said flinging her out, following with her bags and her cigarettes, “try FUCKING GETTING PAID!”

And he slammed the door.

“Cunt.” he muttered, and while Paul looked on, amazed, and Noah headed back to the kitchen, suddenly Naomi Riley started a wailing.

“Nooooahhhh!”

“Go away!” Noah roared.

“Noah, let me in,” she cried, banging on the door.

“I’m gonna fucking call the police,” he shouted back, “if you don’t knock that off.”

Naomi tried another tactic, crying, “Paauuul!”

Paul looked at Noah, alarmed.

“Paul, don’t you even touch that door,” Noah said. “I know you’ve gotten all high and mighty and proper since you got back here and forgot that you used to turn tricks and be a virtual slut on screen, but don’t you even think about telling me off for not letting her in.”

“She’s your mother.”

The sobbing had lessened on the other side of the door, but Naomi was still wailing.

“That’s right,” Noah said. “She’s not yours. She’s not nice Merilee who didn’t know what her son was doing. She’s the cunt you met today that I just dragged out of that door.”

“You’re right you know,” Paul said.

“Huh?”

“I have been high and mighty and… everything I wish I’d had a chance to be in the last ten years. Maybe I was more fun as Johnny Mellow. But I know how I got to be him. Maybe I didn’t have to be on the streets, but I thought I did. Maybe I didn’t have to do a lot of what I thought I had to do, what we both felt like we had to do. And you know what it was like.

“I know she probably fucked you over.”

“No you don’t,” Noah said, his voice filled with a rage Paul blinked at, because he’d never seen it.

“No,” Paul said. “You’re right. I don’t. I know she doesn’t know what she put you through. But… shit… when you know what it’s like to be scared and homeless, when you know, Noah, how can you let someone else go through that?”

Noah stared daggers at Paul and then turn around and wrenched open the door.

Naomi was on the floor, curled up and she looked up, her face red and wet.

“What if I give you money and send you to a hotel?”

Naomi didn’t say anything.

“It is more than you ever fucking did for me. Except for the one night me and Claire stayed with you.”

“No-ah,” Naomi’s sniffling staggered her voice. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“I hate you,” Noah said, simply. “I hate you so much.”

He looked down at her. He pulled in her bag, and her jacket.

“Come in,” he said.

Slowly, Naomi Riley stood up and entered the apartment, and when she had come in, full of anger but unable to turn her away, Noah closed the door.