Page 75 of Bobby Green

It was Bobby’s turn. He was going to have to do it and make sure Reg knew whohewas, inside and out.

Maybe the best way was to let Reg see where he came from.

And God—wouldn’t it be nice to get Reg the hell out of Sacramento?

Bobby still loved the place. Now that he had a little bit of money—and tips over the holidays had filled his pockets more than he’d expected—he’d been asking for recs. Where to eat, where to dance, where to see movies. Trey liked theater—Bobby had three recs for plays in the next month.

He wanted to take Reg with him. He used to go dancing at a local bar with Jessica—one of those places that let you in if you looked eighteen but only served people with IDs. Bobby had liked dancing, but he wanted to try it with someone he really wanted to touch.

He thought there might be untapped potential for sexy in that direction.

Everything—everything—he’d ever known about dating now opened up before him in a great vista beneath his feet. Except Reg could only look at the vista—he couldn’t go explore.

They needed to find a way for him to explore.

It was with this idea in mind that Bobby called his mom.

“Vern? Good to hear from you, baby! How was your New Year’s?”

“Not bad. Me and a friend and his sister hung out, blew noisemakers, that sort of thing.” Veronica had been impressed. Bobby brought sparkling cider and cake, and together he and Reg had cooked a small ham and potatoes. She said it felt like a real holiday, and Reg’s face, watching her twirl the noisemaker happily—the sweetness there had stopped Bobby’s heart.

Dammit, Reg just wanted her to be happy.

“A good friend?” his mom asked. “I mean, you talk about friends there—I just don’t hear any names.”

Thanks, Mom, for the perfect opening.

“This guy’s name is Reggie—we all call him Reg. He’s a nice guy.”

“What’s he do?”

“This and that—he’s not, uh, a professional or white collar or anything. And man, he needs me to keep working on his house, ’cause the place… damn, Mom. Falling the hell apart, I can’t even lie. I did his bathroom before Thanksgiving, but I think I’m going to have to take on the kitchen next. I hate to do it. I’m still waiting tables, and I can’t finish it as fast as he needs to—”

“Well, he’s a grown man—he can deal with takeout,” his mom said. Well, practical. Of course.

“He’s grown, but his sister….” Oh jeez. Anything he said would feel like a betrayal, but he needed to talk to Mom so bad. “She’s got some mental problems,” he said, hating the way that sounded. “Like, if she doesn’t take her medication, she goes batshit crazy and takes out the house. When she’s on the meds, she’s sweet—just like he is, actually. Just… I think they both needed a mom, and they didn’t get one. But if I start redoing their kitchen, that’s just…. I mean, there’s tools and shit around and—”

“Is she dangerous?” His mother sounded concerned, and Bobby didn’t blame her.

“Well, you know. Not when she’s had her meds.”

His mom let out a long breath. “Does he have any help besides you?” she asked, so steadily he felt like she might almost know what Reg was to him.

“No… I mean yes. The guys he—wework with will do about anything for him—”

“Do they know how to deal with someone with her problems?”

Well, they didnow! “They’ve picked up a few things.” He grimaced. “They’ve had to. You know—it’s just a challenge.”

“Vern, if your friend’s sister needs to be someplace they can take care of her, there’s no sin in that. You know that, right?”

Bobby swallowed. “It’s complicated,” he said, sorry he’d told her. He’d wanted someone—an adult someone, not a kid fucking his way through college someone, or a porn model or porn photographer someone—to tell him that what they were doing was okay. Because facing Reg with this problem—no. They’d been together for… for a week. Just no.

But moms didn’t always do what you wanted them to, and Bobby should have known that by now.

“Okay,” his mom said quietly. “Your friend—Reg—how’s he deal with all this?”

“With a heart as big as the world,” Bobby told her, thinking of all the times Reg had forgiven Bobby for fucking around with his feelings because Bobby hadn’t known any better. “He’s… he’s got the best heart, Mom. I think you’d really like him.”