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“Weare.”Istudy our sneakers side-by-side on the bench, my black canvas slip-ons next to his muddy, ripped basketball shoes.Nothingabout us is same-same, not really, and yetIunderstand him better thanIeven know myself. “Whatdo we do?Havea ‘watching our loved ones disappear into the oblivion of time’ party?Idon’t know what kind of cake to serve for that.”
Hecackles softly, likeIknew he would.Butmy heart stutters when he leans over and rests his forehead against my shoulder for a brief, soft moment.BeforeIcan react, the guy on the waterski gets thrown headfirst into the lake andBeckpops up with a piercing wolf whistle of approval.
“Well.”Isit up and straighten my t-shirt, making my voice business-like. “NowthatI’vetaken my massive emotional dump straight in your lap, what do we do for the next hour?”
6
BECK
Inever knowwhereI’mgoing–Ijust start walking untilIfind trouble or see something that will make one of my boys happy.Thoseare the only two thingsIcare about.Today,Ihave one hour to makeDallassmile.I’llknow the right thing whenIsee it.
Wedon’t hold hands as we retrace our steps around the lake, but he walks so close to meIcan smell his hair.Ona whim,Ipull off my hat and plonk it on his head.It’sso big that whenItug the brim down it covers his whole face and he has to shove it up, spluttering. “Wouldn’twant you to burn,”Ioffer, likeI’mso generous.
Helooks pointedly between his tawny complexion and my pasty white one, then rolls his eyes and keeps walking.Buthe’s fighting not to smile, and he’s still wearing my hat, soIwin.
Whenwe get to the sidewalk,Ispot a sign across the road.Bam, we have a destination.Dallaspulls out his phone while we wait for the light to change and squints at the screen, chewing absently on a bit of his hair.
“Areyou reading more of that bullshit?”Icrane my neck to see, but he grunts and waves me away. “Okay, that’s it.”
Dallasjumps in surprise whenIreach over his shoulder, snatch his phone away, and stuff it in my pocket. “Thehell?”Hesounds offended, but he has no right to.
“You’regrounded.”
Hisjaw tightens as he narrows his eyes at me, holding out his hand. “Ididn’t agree to this game.”
“Inever asked you to.”Thelight turns, soIwalk around him and head across the road.
“I’mserious,” he calls, jogging after me. “I’man adult.Youcan’t take away my rights.”
“Iguess you’ll have to get it back, then,”Iholler over my shoulder, keeping my eyes on the sidewalk in front of me.Assoon as the slap of his shoes gets close enough,Idodge and turn around, walking backward soIcan enjoy the sight of him stumbling and grabbing at empty air. “Doyou need something?”
“Give. me. my. fucking–”Hedunks his hand in my pocket, butIeasily spin out of his grip and keep walking.
“You’renot even trying, baby.”
“Goddamnyou.”Ionly stagger a little when he body-slams me with his full weight.It’salmost like he enjoys trying to take down someone stronger than him and failing.IfIdidn’t know better, if this wasn’t perfect, straight-lacedDallas,I’dsay it felt a tiny bit kinky.
Istumble into the store with him wrapped around me.Whenhe gets another hand in my pocket,Igrab his arm and spin him until he’s trapped in a tight hug from behind.Welook like a couple of drunks as he tries to waddle forward with me on his back, then breaks down into giggles. “Igive up, you win.Getthe fuck off me.”
Pushingmy luck,Isqueeze him to my chest. “Sayit again, louder.”
“Youwin,you filthy turd.”
“That’sright.”Ismack his ass, then hook an arm around his shoulders and take off for the back of the store.
“Thatwasn’t fair,” he protests, trying to smooth his hair back under my hat. “IthoughtIwas the king of your new world order.”
Isqueeze his shoulder through his thin, black tee. “Nothing’sfair, baby.”
Hissneakers slow to a stop when we get to the aisleI’mlooking for.Heglances up at me uneasily, then stares at the sea of blue packaging. “Whatare we doing?”
“We’repicking someHotWheels.”
“I–”Hetakes a step back with that look he gets when he doesn’t know what to think or say. “Wecan’t afford it.”
Pullingout my wallet,Isearch through the ripped lining untilIfind the emergency fiverI’vebeen carrying around for many years longer thanI’veknown this man. “Here.Ipromise this didn't come from the food money.”
Hestares longingly at the hundreds of shiny little cars hanging in neat rows, then shakes his head. “Youdon’t have to do this,Beck.I’mfine.”
