Page 11 of Sean's Sunshine
“Right,” Sean said sadly.Hewas a cop and it had once made him proud. What could he do to convince this kid it wasn’t all crap?
He didn’t know. But at that moment, it was enough for Billy to finish his homework, and then they snarked their way through three episodes of the show before Sean felt absolutely compelled to take a nap.
The three days since had been easier. Billy still had homework—and he still worked out when Sean was resting—but the time they spent watching television and movies together was more companionable and less Billy humoring Sean because that’s what he thought his job was.
It had been… nice. Sean had mentioned liking jigsaw puzzles at one point, and Billy had ordered him one. He told Sean it had been on Jackson’s dime when Sean protested, and Sean reminded himself that he should pay Rivers back, but he’d enjoyed listening to music and putting the puzzle together while Billy struggled with his first week’s homework. The young man’s pithy and often acid comments regarding the literature he was reading were interesting and often eye-opening.
“So Oscar Wilde was gay?”
“Very gay,” Sean confirmed. “Served four years in prison for being gay, if I remember.”
Billy snorted. “Well, I hope he’s comforted by the fact that all the theater kids think he’s a god.”
It was a tentative friendship, and Sean was glad since that “need a nurse for a week or so” was bullshit, and he’d apparently need Billy’s help for at least another month. But that didn’t change the fact that in the meantime, Billy was still filling in on his job, having sex for a living.
SEAN TOOKa breath and tried to adjust himself on the couch, noticing as he did that Randy was sitting on his floor, arms wrapped around his shins, with a rapt expression on his face, completely intent on the opening credits ofAladdin.
As Sean watched, Randy’s lips started to move as he lip-synced the opening songs.
Sean’s eyes burned.
Oh my God—this kid. This kid was acoworkerof Billy’s, which meant heshot pornfor a living, but… but…look at him. What mother had let this kid out of her sight to be naked with strangers when he still sang the words to cartoons with that rapturous attention?
In an effort not to start prying into Randy’s life, Sean turned his attention to the screen, getting caught up in the story of the street rat with a heart of gold who really was a diamond in the rough.
Billy was gone until late afternoon, which meant Randy had watchedAladdin, The Lion King, Zootopia, and they were in the middle ofMadagascar 3before the front doorknob jiggled and Billy called, “It’s me. Everybody put away the cigarettes and booze.”
Randy let out a dorky guffaw, and Sean—who had gone to nap throughZootopiabut had been there for the ride through most of the other cartoons—felt a stab of relief for another adult in the room. He felt a level of exhaustion that usually accompanied babysitting his nieces and nephews and suddenly wondered if the rest of the flophouse guys felt like that around Randy.
“All put away,” Randy called, scrambling to his feet. “Come on in.” Suddenly he looked almost comically put out, as though he reallyhadbeen put out. “Oh my God! I was going to put on mac and cheese and hot dogs for you! My bad. It’s your favorite! It was the last thing Cotton said to me as I walked out the door!” He ran toward the kitchen as Billy let himself in. “Shit, Billy—my bad! I was gonna do the thing, but I got sort of distracted!”
“No worries. Here, put away the pots and pans, man. I brought pizza!”
Randy’s eyes got really big. “Not with—”
“Your side’s got feta and spinach—no lactose. No worries.”
The look on Randy’s face was pathetically grateful, and he went to get the box from Billy to set it on the table. “You’re so good to me,” he said happily. “I’m sorry about the mac and cheese. I even brought a bag of groceries!”
Sean remembered that—Randy had been in a rush to put the hot dogs in the fridge after Billy had left.
“I’ll eat it tomorrow,” Billy promised. “’Cause man, I gotta tell you, it’s hitting mehardtoday.”
Sean had watched him stare longingly at Sean’s pathetically small meals over the last three days as he’d nibbled vegetables and drank chicken broth and apple juice to clean out his system. Sean had never really thought of it before—too much good-boy guilt to let him watch porn and really enjoy it, maybe—but cleaning out the system was apparently a real prerequisite for any sort of sex on film, particularly between men who waxed all their pubic hair, even what was in their ass cracks.
“Yeah,” Randy said on a sigh. “I justcan’tsometimes. That’s why—” He cast Sean a surreptitious look. “Anyway, thanks for the pizza.”
Sean remembered Billy’s comment that “all of us have eating disorders,” and he remembered this kid watching animated features all day and practically wanted to cry.
“Definitely thanks for the pizza,” he said. “If someone wants to help me to the table—oh.”
Randy reached over the couch and put a paper plate in his lap, full of two slices of sausage, pepperoni, mushroom, and olive.
“Damn,” he said, inhaling lightly. “Seriously, thanks.”
Billy chuckled and came to flop down in the corner of the couch, his own paper plate full of spinach, goat cheese, and garlic, from the looks of it. Sean started feeling guilty all over again.
“You’re not even going to have sausage?” he asked.