Lost in thought, Danny suddenly felt a hot brush of breath against his neck as his cigarette was jerked from between his fingers. He spun around indignantly. “What the fuck?”
“You can’t smoke,” Paul snapped. “Sets a bad example.”
“I don’t work here. You don’t even work here. Where’s your good Samaritan paycheck?”
Paul stomped on Danny’s cigarette with his cleats rather than explain. “I’ll hurry.”
Danny rolled his eyes, now really irritated. With nothing else to do, he stared at his watch, his leg bouncing impatiently while Paul and the head coach helped the kids gather their equipment.
Getting fifteen kids to pick up a whole field full of football equipment and then herding them inside took longer than Danny felt like waiting for a cigarette. His nerves were frayed and he ended up smoking once Paul went inside. The sunset cast an orange glow over the Tampa skyline and the air had just a hint of autumn as the temperature started to drop. If his life wasn’t such a mess, Danny would have enjoyed it. The crisp feel of autumn had always been his favorite time of year in Florida.
“Couldn’t wait?” Paul called out as he walked up to him, a military-style duffle bag thrown over his shoulder. “Thanks for picking me up. I’m fixing the truck, I promise.”
Danny snorted in disbelief. “You’ve been saying that for three weeks. You ain’t never fixing that piece of shit.”
“No, I am.” Paul pulled off his blue baseball hat and ran a hand through his hair. He put it on backward, showing off a tan forehead shiny with sweat. “I just gotta find time. Football season, school and coaching, I barely have time to study. And parts cost money. My last scholarship check’s been spent. I need a job.”
Danny tried to hold his tongue. He threw his cigarette down, stomping on it to take out his frustration as he pulled his keys out of his pocket. “Paul Guy—”
“Don’t start,” Paul cut him off, giving Danny a look. “I know, okay? I do know.”
“You’re broke. Why the fuck are you volunteering all your spare time away?” Danny snapped. “You aren’t the only bleeding heart in Tampa. Let someone else be assistant coach!”
“I think we can go to the championship,” Paul said, his low, Southern drawl becoming as close to a whine as it got. “I just can’t mess that up for them. I’ll find the time and I’ll get the truck fixed. Maybe Peter can help me find some spare parts.”
“He’s not gonna help you. He never does.” Danny opened the driver’s side door and got in. He pushed a button, unlocking the passenger side. When Paul crawled in, tossing his bag into the backseat, Danny went on, “Your brother is an asshole. You know it gives him a hard-on to say no. Fuck giving him that satisfaction.”
“And how’s that attitude working out for ya?” Paul asked, raising his eyebrows curiously as Danny started his car. “Pride is your enemy, Danny Boy. You told your last boss to suck it.”
“He asked me to clean a bathroom.”
“Right, I forgot, you’re too good for that,” Paul said, shaking his head. “I just don’t think you should be lecturing me about money. You haven’t held down a job for longer than two weeks.”
“I got some side work tomorrow,” Danny said defensively.
“Doing what? Beating up druggies for Tony?”
Danny felt an uncomfortable wave of embarrassment roll over him. He was silently thankful for the gift of olive skin from his mother, because he’d be flushed with shame without it. “They’re assholes, Paul Guy. They’ll be selling drugs to your little Pee Wee kids in a few years. Putting a few dents in them isn’t a crime against the universe.”
“It is a crime though.”
“I’m not playing the
Danny Boy is a loser
game. I hear it enough from my father. I don’t need to hear it from you,” Danny said in irritation. “Where am I taking you?”
“Can I stay with you?” Paul asked, his head falling back against the seat, his voice becoming heavy with exhaustion. “So fucking hard to study at the dorm. My roommate thrives off chaos, always got the radio blaring, the TV going, it’s just—really annoying.”
“Tell him to turn the shit off,” Danny said simply. “Or break it while he sleeps.”
Paul snorted. “Nah, he’s a rich boy. Always got a fat bankroll. He’ll just buy new, louder shit.”
“Then kick his ass,” Danny sighed, rolling his eyes at his best friend. “If he’s that fucking inconsiderate, you’ll be doing him a favor. You should make it a priority to give a reality check to every obnoxious rich boy you come across. That’s a charity worth the effort.”
“Danny Boy,” Paul said with a bark of laughter.
“What?”
“
You’re
an obnoxious rich boy. The worst of the lot.”
“You gotta have money to be rich, genius,” Danny said bitterly. “My bank account’s in the negative again.”
“Your dad’s got more money than God.”
“Yeah, but I’ll be damned if I ask him for
anything
,” Danny said, his voice razor sharp and vicious. “That’s what I’m saying, obnoxious rich boys without a reality check turn into obnoxious old men like my father who think the world should kiss their ass. I would literally lick a monkey’s asshole before I’d give him that satisfaction.”
“Thank you for the visual,” Paul said rather than argue, his eyes closing in exhaustion. “Can I please stay at your place?”
Danny sighed, hating when Paul stayed at his place because it made him ache for him even more than he already did. Instead of telling him to stop torturing him with what he couldn’t have, he just huffed in defeat, “I don’t give a shit.”
* * * * *
Though few would agree, Paul liked Danny’s place. A rundown shack of a house halted in its remodeling due to Danny’s father turning the job of reconstruction over to Danny with the vain hope he would learn some sort of work ethic. Instead it just provided Danny with a free place to stay. If he finished, he would have to move back home with his parents. Which was likely his father’s plan all along. Danny and his father were strangely alike when it came to their ability to fuck with people in order to get what they wanted.
Paul’s father just told him to get the fuck out. Danny’s used a remodeling job to have the excuse to constantly remind Danny what a fuck-up he was by not finishing it.
Paul wasn’t certain, but he thought he might have gotten the better deal.
The house was built over a lake, the wood aged and weathered well beyond its years. Less than a third of the wood flooring was laid down, the original floor having been ripped out by Danny’s father and his crew before the project was turned over to Danny. The windows were bare. There was very little furniture save a kitchen table and an old couch in the living room. Danny’s bedroom held only a mattress on the floor with a TV in the corner.
Yet for all its faults, it was a quiet, peaceful place to stay. They could fish and drink beer as long as they wanted without the interruption of real life that was constantly chaotic. To Paul, that made the beat-up shack Danny called home about as close to Eden as he’d probably ever find.
Rubbing his tired eyes, he blinked down at his textbook and finally had to admit defeat. He couldn’t study anymore. He was too tired to retain anything. Night had long since fallen and Danny’s considerable lack of lighting made studying almost impossible anyway.
He grabbed a beer out of the fridge and walked outside. The sound of the wind whistling through the trees and the crisp feel in the air signaled that autumn had officially arrived.
Paul found Danny sitting in a plastic chair near the porch railing and said, “I thought you were working. You said the porch needed sanding.”
Fishing pole in hand, Danny cast out his line, shadows playing over his handsome face and bare chest from the single light off a lantern he’d set on the dock near him.
“This is me working,” Danny said blandly as he started reeling in his line. “Grab a pole, stay awhile.”
Paul smiled, wishing he could tell Danny how much he appreciated more than the haven of his house, but the protection his friendship offered. Around Danny he could be himself.
Almost.
Rather than dwell on the secrets between them, he grabbed a pole and enjoyed the indulgence of fishing when life rarely gave him the time for much of it anymore. What little stress relief he did have didn’t include fishing poles, and required quite a bit of creative time management and colorful excuses to the man fishing next to him.
Staying awhile meant Danny and Paul ended up sprawled in cheap plastic chairs sharing one beer after another. As tired as Paul was, those beers shared with Danny were enough to have him resting his head back against the chair. He laid the pole between his legs as his eyes fell closed.
“What’d you do to your arm?”
“Hmm?” Paul asked, his eyes still closed.
His entire body was heavy with the weight of mental and physical exhaustion that threatened to let him sleep all night in the uncomfortable chair.
“Your arm,” Danny said, his hand grazing Paul’s upper arm as he pushed up the sleeve of his t-shirt. “What the fuck—”
Paul didn’t think it was possible to wake up that fast, but he did, a surge of adrenaline pulsing through him so quickly he jerked in shock. He wrenched his arm away from Danny, shoving his sleeve back down.
“It’s nothing,” he growled out of fear. “Don’t touch me.”
Danny stared at him, his dark eyes narrowed and calculating, giving Paul the impression he was looking into his soul. “Defensive much?”
“I just don’t want you to touch me,” Paul said, feeling a sickening wave of dread wash over him because he knew he was acting suspicious, and he floundered for a way to cover up his mistake. “Why the fuck do you care if I hurt myself or not?”
Danny was silent as he rubbed his thumb against his bottom lip, turning to look out to the lake. He appeared to be choosing his words wisely before he finally whispered into the darkness, “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
“You’d think you were looking for a date or something,” Paul said, hoping to God that was the end of it.
“You made your point, asshole.” Danny’s head fell back against the chair as he reached down to grab the beer between them. He took a long drink, speaking against the rim. “You don’t want me to touch you. I got it.”
* * * * *
“Yes! YESSSSS!”
Danny jumped out of his seat, his fist raised in victory. He stood suspended in that strange place where everything felt as if it were in slow motion as he watched the football soar through the air. The receiver was wide open. Paul wasn’t the most light-footed quarterback in the world, but he could put a ball where it needed to be. That was a brilliant throw. It would take a complete idiot to miss it.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
The roar of the crowd was unanimous, deafening as the ball finished its beautiful arc through the air and the receiver missed it. It took Danny a second to speak against the lump in his throat.
“Motherfucker!” he shouted when he did find the words. His instinct was to rush out of the stands and kick the living shit out of that receiver who had fumbled a truly stunning pass. “You suck, Fulton! You should whore out your mouth, you suck so fucking hard!”
“There are kids here, Danny!”
“It wasn’t even a fumble,” Danny said, turning around in irritation to stare at Denise and Melissa, the sorority girls he came to the game with. “His fingers didn’t touch the goddamn ball. How’d you miss that?”
“That was pathetic,” Melissa said, looking disgusted. “Our team is really getting destroyed this season. So depressing.”
“I hate team sports.” Danny sat back down, putting his face in his hands, feeling completely miserable. Paul’s team getting abused for yet another game was the least of his problems. He was worried about Paul himself.
The incident on the porch last week haunted him day and night, burrowing doubts into his brain he didn’t want to have. He was just using the football as an outlet. “Why couldn’t he be into rodeo or track or anything that didn’t require teamwork? Then he wouldn’t have to worry about other people’s fuck ups. Team sports suck.”
Denise laughed, sounding genuinely amused. “Can you imagine Paul rodeoing? He’s too big to ride a horse.”
“He actually does all right,” Danny said, running his hand through his hair and looking to Denise. “He could rodeo if he wanted to. He can do anything. He’s Paul. Besides, he may be built like a linebacker, but there’s a reason he plays quarterback. He’s light on his feet and more coordinated than you’d expect.”
“Whatever.” Denise shrugged as she tucked a strand of long, dark hair behind her ear. “Are you coming to our party tonight?”
Danny pulled a face as he looked from Denise to Melissa sitting next to her. Though their coloring was different, Denise’s hair a deep mahogany, Melissa’s nearly white-blonde, they matched in the way sorority girls were apt to do. They had the same bleached-white teeth and long, layered hairstyles. Their clothes were always in fashion and each of them drove luxury cars nearly as nice as Danny’s. They both sported the very pretty, pressed look of girls who came from money and enjoyed the novelty of it, but Danny was more inclined to like these two than the others of their breed. He found them charming and adorable most days. It was their friends who were starting to grate on his nerves.
“I’m sorta bored with those parties. They’re always the same. Shallow people dancing to the same songs and mouth-fucking each other in the same dark corners. Can’t we do something else? It’s not like they’ll kick you out of the house if you don’t show.”
“It’ll be fun,” Denise said, giving him a secret smile. “Mel and I will make out for you.”
“And that’s valuable how?” Danny couldn’t resist laughing at them and teasing. “Not like I haven’t seen it. You do a lot more than that for me on a regular basis.”
Denise laughed, obviously recognizing the jab as playful. “You’re a dick.”
“I know,” Danny admitted, still laughing with her. “Why do you keep hanging out with me?”
“’Cause you’re hot.”
“And talented.” Melissa reached over Denise to squeeze his thigh and whispered conspiratorially, “You should give pussy-eating classes to the guys at school. I swear you’re the only one who knows how to do it.”