CHAPTER 1 #2
“To find you,” Ricky confessed before telling him the plan. “I was so worried!”
“Sorry. I thought about coming to your house as soon as the cops let me go, but you don’t have a car, so I figured it made more sense to walk to my place—which took forever—and get a pair of wheels.”
Ricky glanced at the motorcycle. “Does that belong to one of your customers?”
“It used to. The guy couldn’t pay his bill, so he brought this in as a trade.
The bike was in rough shape, but I got it running.
” Diego walked over to the motorcycle, which was a cluster of chrome pipes, a pair of wheels, and a polished black gas tank emblazoned with two cursive words.
“You’re looking at a seventy-nine XLH 1000 Sportster. ”
“A Harley?” Ricky asked after noticing the branding.
“Yup.” Diego swept up the helmet and held it out to him. “Wanna go for a ride?”
“Sure!”
The motorcycle’s leather seat had another just behind it, slightly higher up, positioned above the rear wheel.
Ricky put on the helmet. Diego climbed on the bike first, his strong shoulders used for support as Ricky swung a leg over.
Once perched on the seat, his head was at the same height as Diego’s.
“Aren’t you going to wear a helmet?”
“I’ll be all right. Just hang on tight.”
Ricky did exactly that, experiencing a rush of adrenaline as the motorcycle shot forward.
When they took a corner sharply, the bike leaning left, he felt a short-lived jolt of terror.
Diego would never do anything to hurt him.
Not intentionally, at least, so he made sure to keep his arms securely looped around his boyfriend’s waist.
The ride was thrilling, traffic sparse this early on a Sunday morning.
Ricky pretended the world was theirs alone, the illusion reinforced as they headed to the outskirts of town.
Diego gunned it down a straight stretch of road, only slowing again when they reached a weather-worn repair shop that they parked in front of.
Diego killed the engine. “Whaddya think?”
Ricky stumbled after climbing off, laughing self-consciously. “That was cool! Although riding in Frankenstein is a lot warmer. I miss him already.”
“Me too,” Diego said, taking the helmet from him and hanging it on the handlebars.
“Can you fix him?”
“Yeah, of course. I just gotta have him towed here. That might take a while though, so if you want a ride to school…” He patted the motorcycle seat.
“Do you have a second helmet?”
“Yup.”
“Promise to always wear it? I don’t want to date Frankenstein’s monster.”
Diego laughed. Then he began lurching toward Ricky with his arms outstretched. Which was actually scary. He screeched and scurried back before covering his mouth. “Sorry! Your mom is probably still sleeping.”
“Nah. She’s got a new boyfriend and is staying at his place. Which I don’t like thinking about, but it’s better than her bringing the dumbass around like the old days. Wanna come upstairs with me?”
“To hang out?”
“To do just what I said. To come upstairs.”
Ricky grinned and nodded. “Let’s go.”
He followed Diego to his room, where they wasted no time in undressing. Ricky’s eyes absorbed the details greedily. Every meaty curve and firm bulge.
“Will you flex for me?” he requested.
“You like my muscles, huh?” Diego asked while complying.
“Yeah.” Ricky was already rearing to go.
“I like your girly bod.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
Ricky made a face. “You think I’m girly?”
“Yeah. I mean, you aren’t. But you’ve got the body of a flat-chested chick.”
Ricky glanced down at himself. Then he shrugged. “Whatever works for you. So um… What are you in the mood for?”
“I like the way you look at me,” Diego said, reaching down to touch himself. “That’s kinda hot.”
“We can keep watching each other,” Ricky said, mimicking his actions.
Diego’s attention remained on his eyes as his arm pumped. Ricky’s gaze wandered, returning home on occasion to find the same intense stare boring into his own. He couldn’t decide what turned him on more, the strong build or the cinnamon eyes.
“Er… Where should I…”
“On the floor. I don’t give a fuck.” Diego moved a few steps closer to join him, his chest heaving as they made a mess together. This was unceremoniously mopped up with the T-shirt Diego had been wearing. Then a hand grabbed Ricky’s wrist and yanked him into bed.
“C’mere you little freak,” Diego murmured while pulling him into his arms.
Ricky scooted close, squirming up against Diego for maximum contact before he sighed contentedly. “I love you,” he murmured.
“You know how I feel,” Diego replied, an arm wrapping around him possessively.
“Did you ever think you’d end up with a guy?” Ricky asked.
“What do you mean?”
“When you were younger. I dreamt about this all the time.”
“Not really. I mostly thought about women.”
Ricky furrowed his brow before rolling over to face him. “But you noticed guys too, right?”
“Yup.”
“In a sexual way?”
Diego laughed. “Yeah. In a sexual way.”
“Who?”
“You want names or something?”
“Yes!”
“Too bad.”
“Why not?”
“Because I say so.”
Ricky pushed himself up on an elbow. “Was it Omar?”
“No way! He’s more like a kid brother to me.”
Ricky gasped. “Anthony?”
Diego rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“But was it him?”
Diego sighed. “Why does any of this matter?”
“I want to know everything about you,” Ricky said earnestly. “I mean that literally. Starting from the very beginning. Hey! Do you have a baby book?”
“A what?”
“An album with your baby photos in it, your birth certificate, maybe a lock of hair…”
Diego’s face scrunched up. “I think so.”
“You aren’t sure? I’ve seen mine a bunch of times. My mom and I go through it together. She tells me all the stories I can’t remember. It’s really fun. Speaking of which, I better call her so she doesn’t worry.”
“The phone is in the kitchen,” Diego said.
Ricky sat up. “Can you find your baby book while I call her?”
Diego stared at him blankly. Then he pushed himself up. “To answer your question, no. I never thought I’d end up with someone like you.”
Ricky smiled. He put on his clothes, in case Mrs. Gomez came home unexpectedly.
He called his mom and told her Diego had stopped by first thing in the morning—that they went on a drive before stopping here.
She was a bit perturbed about them meeting at such an early hour, but couldn’t complain like if they’d gone out past curfew.
He might be on to something. When did curfew end exactly?
At dawn? Could he leave an hour before school started to get some extra alone time with Diego?
His boyfriend plodded through the living room wearing nothing but underwear, an album gripped in one hand that jiggled enticingly.
“Gotta go, Mom. I’ll be home later. Love ya!”
Ricky followed Diego into the bedroom.
“You found it?”
“Uh-huh.”
Diego handed him the album and climbed into bed before stretching out, like he intended to sleep.
“You aren’t going to look at it with me?” Ricky asked in puzzlement.
“Nope.”
“You must be curious.”
“About a time of my life when all I could do was crap myself? No thanks. I’ll relive that experience when I’m in the old folk’s home. If I make it that far.”
“Always the optimist,” Ricky teased, getting into bed next to him, but he remained sitting up with his legs crossed.
“I’m a realist,” Diego murmured. “And tired as hell.”
Ricky placed the album on his lap and opened the cover.
A baby photo of Diego greeted him. The resemblance was unmistakable, despite the difference in age, due to the trademark scowl.
That was probably borne out of confusion.
Most infants don’t experience an existential crisis.
Although if one ever did, it would be him.
Ricky marveled over the birth certificate, surprised to discover that Diego had been born in Texas.
When he asked about this, his boyfriend mumbled something incoherently.
Deciding to let him sleep, Ricky focused his full attention on the album.
Like his own baby book, it did indeed include a lock of soft hair (which he caressed fondly) and plenty of handwritten observations from his mother.
Diego gets grumpy when he’s hungry, which is all the time.
Ricky laughed and continued turning the pages, seeing a happy little guy grow up to take his first steps and speak his first word. Dada. “I guess you were always a daddy’s boy,” he whispered.
There were plenty of photos of them together.
He wondered if Diego was aware of that. Mr. Gomez didn’t look much like his son, his build slight, his features narrow.
His mother, on the other hand… Seeing her so young in the photos was like discovering that Diego had a sister just as beautiful as he was handsome.
Toward the end of the album, beyond photos and mementos of Diego’s first day of school, were a few blank pages.
Ricky flipped through them just to be sure he wasn’t missing anything and was about to close the album when he noticed, trapped beneath the cellophane on the very last page, an envelope addressed to Marti—Diego’s mother.
Was it a letter from her son? That would explain why it was kept here.
The handwriting, despite being messy, had the maturity of someone who was older.
That would make sense. He probably didn’t call her mom these days, perceiving the term as too sentimental after everything that had gone down.
Ricky was curious to know what he might have said to her that she had decided to preserve.
Diego did have a rarely revealed softer side.
Unable to resist, Ricky slid the envelope free and took out a single folded sheet of paper.
Marti,
By the time you read this, I’ll already be dead.
Ricky’s attention darted to the bottom of the page, where Lorenzo had signed his name. This wasn’t a letter from Diego. It was the suicide note his father had left behind! The one that had been kept from him ever since.
“Diego!” he hissed.
“Shaddup,” his boyfriend grumbled before pulling the pillow over his head.
“But I found it!” he persisted.
Diego had searched high and low for this letter, his mother never allowing him to see it, no matter how often he begged. Ricky’s eyes continued to move across the page before widening in shock.
“Found what?” Diego grumbled, beginning to stir.
Ricky read faster, his stomach sinking. Then he hastily shoved the letter in the album and flipped to the start of the book to bury it.
“A lock of your baby hair,” Ricky answered, the pulse throbbing in his neck.
“So what?” Diego rolled over, putting his back to him.
Ricky remained perfectly still until Diego’s breathing slowed.
Only then did he take the letter out again, reading it carefully.
Once he’d reached the end, he realized that Mrs. Gomez had been right to hide this from her son.
The truth would destroy Diego! So even though it felt like a betrayal, Ricky returned the letter to the envelope and slid it into the plastic sleeve.
Then he carefully closed the album, set it aside, and held his boyfriend from behind, wanting to protect him from the world.