Page 8 of Bobby Green

And again.

At the end of the week, he went home to lie to his mom.

She fussed over his thumb and clucked that he was getting too thin. All she had in the house was spaghetti and butter. He ate the last of it and hated himself. Jessica and Keith came to visit, and for a moment, Vern let himself fall into Jessica’s warm and willing hug and dream. Dream of safety and soft mattresses every night, dream of a small town where you never went hungry, and where if your boss pulled a gun on you, you could at least tell the cops and get the guy investigated.

Jessica wanted to stay the night.

Vern told her that he had to use his mom’s computer, and she said that would be fine—she’d wait up.

Oh God.

Vern had dreamed about nothing but Gomez and his sweet brown eyes and his yearning, and the way he’d saved Vern’s tools for him. Jesus God, Vern didn’t want to touch Jessica with that yearning on his skin.

He spent hours on the computer, filling out an application for every fast-food chain in a twenty-five-mile radius from Sacramento—anything, anything but to come back to Dogpatch again.

He crawled into bed and felt up a sleepy Jessica, knowing it was his duty. He got it up—because that thing never stayed quiet long—but as he moved inside her, the satin of her body squeezing him tight, her soft cries urging him on doggedly, he was thinking of Gomez and the yearning in his eyes.

THE NEXTday Jessica had to work at the Frostie, and Keith said, “That’s okay. Vern and me, we can hang.”

His almond-shaped eyes went to half-mast when he said this, and his even white smile, that made all the girls want to spread their legs for him, cranked up a notch.

“I need to leave early,” Vern said desperately, but his mother teared up.

“Oh, honey—my check went through. I was going to make something special tonight. Can’t you wait until this evening?”

He looked at her helplessly, wanting a meal his mother cooked more than anything in the world.

Apparently more than hedidn’twant to suck Keith Gilmore’s dick, because “hanging out” meant going to the stables and going down on Keith while he grabbed the back of Vern’s head and knotted his fingers in Vern’s hair and tried to choke Vern on a six-inch cock.

He finished and Vern swallowed, and for a moment, a brief moment, Keith pressed Vern’s head against his stomach and the tight grip on his hair relaxed, turned into a caress.

“I missed that,” he said softly. Then he let go and pulled his pants up while Vern went to rinse out his mouth.

Vern didn’t anticipate the heat at his back, Keith’s warm body draping itself over Vern’s shoulder, the gentle hand at his backside—or the cash pressed into the back pocket of Vern’s jeans.

“Eat something,” Keith said, his voice low. “Your mom may buy that you’re okay, but you look like shit warmed over.”

Vern closed his eyes then and fought off the shaking that threatened to take over his body. He swallowed the last of Keith’s spunk and nodded.

Even when he was back in his truck, driving back down to nowhere, hoping for a goddamned job, he couldn’t have said what that moment was.

On the one hand, it was all the tenderness he’d ever dreamed of.

On the other, it was another step to whoring his ass out for food.

IT TOOKhim two more weeks to get a job waiting tables at a little smoothie café called Hazy Daze. He wasn’t making a lot of money, but after a week or two, a few people there let him flop on their couch and use their shower for ten bucks a night.

He still had to go home and sleep with Jessica once a week. And suck Keith Gilmore’s dick.

It was almost to the point where the thought of driving home made him want to vomit, but at least he got an employee discount on food that didn’t make him break out.

He must have been looking particularly rosy and clean-cut then, because some of the guys who wandered into the place started to check him out.

Particularly when he came out from behind the counter.

“Hey, Dex—check it out!” The guy speaking looked like a dark-haired, brown-eyed gorilla with supermodel face implants and a soul patch. His fake whisper sucked.

The tall, blond, blue-eyed, angel-faced, pillow-lipped country boy with him obviously thought so too.