Page 30 of Bobby Green

“Because—they’re all screeching about minorities and shit—she’s telling me all the brown people—her word, by the way—are out to get her. If she’ll attack her brother with a knife, can we not let her have a gun?”

“Yeah—I think Reg is smarter than that.”

Bobby frowned. “Of course he is. But if she wanders out of here on her own one day, some asshole will sell her one.”

Lance grunted and turned to lean on one of the flaking counters. “Yeah. I know. It’s reason number one hundred and twelve why this is a bad situation all around.”

Bobby let out a groan and laced his fingers behind his neck. He didn’t evenknowReg. But then he didn’t know Dex that well either, and Dex had done him more thanasolid. Dex had taken care of him the best way he could. Bobby believed in pay-it-forward, but it was more even than that.

Reg was decent. And kind. And cute and funny. And he was sticking with his sister through the bad times when Bobby had cut and run, leaving his mom to fend for herself on Frank Gilmore’s property. Not that Frank would be asking the same favors as Keith, but still.

Bobby admired Reg and liked him, and this situation was just not fair.

“You said he was smarter than that,” Lance said, cutting into his thoughts.

“Well, yeah. Why?”

“Not everybody sees that in Reg.”

Bobby thought about it, about Reg’s sad little admission that he’d tried to cheat to stay out of the “dumb” class.

“Schools don’t always know,” he said, thinking about it. “The kind of smart you are to be in school isn’t the only smart there is. My… my girlfriend’s brother was top ten in his class. Ten years from now, he’ll still be in Dogpatch, knocking up his wife.”

Lance’s mouth twisted. “Bobby, I gave Reg an IQ test once—and I know they’re biased as hell, but he asked. It came back in the low eighties, which isn’t technically intellectually disabled, but it’s not genius level either.”

Bobby grunted, uncomfortable. “What’s your point?”

“The only reason I haven’t reported this situation to somebody is that Reg is an adult. A fully functioning, equal in the eyes of the law adult. If we start interfering with this ‘for his own good’”—Lance raised air quotes, and Bobby felt like shit—“we’re saying he’s not our equal, he’s disabled in some way.” Lance looked away unhappily. “I mean… he’s my friend. I can’t look the guy in the eye or hook up with him or even shoot a scene with him if he’s… he’s a child.”

“I don’t see him as a child,” Bobby said, feeling sick to his stomach. God. Lance was right. How awful would it be for Reg to be hanging out with all the guys from Johnnies, only to find it was some sort of pity? But it wasn’t—that wasn’t why Skylar was giving up his bed or his produce. That wasn’t why Billy had spent ten minutes crushing ice, or even why Dex had sent the guy home with Bobby to make sure he’d be okay. It certainly wasn’t why Lance was here.

Lance who “hooked up” with him.

“Then why?” Lance asked baldly. “You hardly know him.”

Bobby looked away. “I like him,” he said, voice small. “I just… I mean, I guess you guys are a thing, but… you know. He was nice to me.”

“We’re not a thing,” Lance said dryly. Then he sobered. “You go ahead and like him. Don’t mind me. I’m getting protective—because you’re right. This situation isn’t safe, but I don’t know what else to do about it besides be his friend.”

Bobby smiled a little, but he was tired, and it fell flat. “Everyone I know lives over a hundred miles away,” he said. “If this is what I gotta do to have friends, well, it’s a lot less of a pain in the ass than driving back up past Truckee.”

Lance’s smile was a little dim too. “Have some pizza, Bobby. Sit on the couch and fall asleep if you have to—I mean, you shot a scene!”

Bobby nodded, suddenly exhausted. “Yeah.” He yawned. “And I haven’t had my man-nap yet.”

Lance shook his head and pursed his lips. “Poor baby. Reg was the one who told me to take a long bath and to eat my favorite carbs and basically treat myself on scene days. We haven’t shown you much of the good side of the business.”

Bobby shrugged. Money in his pocket, friends, and pizza. “Maybe next time,” he said philosophically.

“Who you up on the schedule with?”

Bobby smiled. “Well, I got a girl named Rachel next week—”

“But…,” Lance asked leadingly, and Bobby flushed. “It’s okay, you know,” Lance said softly, probably responding to the heat in Bobby’s cheeks.

“What is?” But he knew.

“If you like boys more than girls. It’s… it’s perfectly normal. You know that, right? Sometimes it’s boys we like best, sometimes it’s girls.” Lance smiled reassuringly, and Bobby thought he was going to make an amazing doctor.