Chapter 13
The lights are dim and the overall mood is low.
My son is home. This ought to be a special day, but Ezzy ain’t talking to me or Johnny, and Johnny’s been walking around looking like a ghost for the last hour.
I don’t know what the hell happened in the kitchen earlier, but Faith must have said something.
She’s the only one who was in there with him.
Ezra went to check on them at one point, but just as soon as he entered, he left, rushing upstairs, his face redder than one of those shitty MAGA hats.
I’ll give Ezzy credit, the atmosphere around the dinner table is like something out of a movie.
I don’t know where the hell he got floor-to-ceiling purple tapestries with stitched-on silver moons and golden stars, but he’s got at least twelve of them hanging down the walls.
On the table, blood-red tea candles have been placed with precision, and Ezra’s got everyone’s name written on purple note cards, indicating where we’re supposed to sit.
Ezra is seated at the end of the table, and Johnny and I are sitting next to him, across from one another.
At the other end of the table, Faith is sitting opposite Ezra’s spot at the end, and Dallas and Austin are next to her.
Jaden is at my side, his head resting on my shoulder like he might fall asleep at any second, and Clint keeps staring across the table at him, smiling.
I don't think Clint is queer, but I never thought of myself as queer until Johnny.
Dallas didn't think he was either, and then he fell for his stepson.
Dallas always seemed to be as straight as they come, but now he's coming inside his stepson on a regular basis, probably finger-fucking his hole into oblivion.
Now my head is spinning with mental images of Clint seducing my boy the way Aussie seduced his stepfather.
Jacking off while they talk on the phone.
Constant, completely unnecessary lap sitting.
And those looks they give each other. My God, half the time, Aussie looks like he’s ready to bend Dallas over the dinner table and shove a tongue up his asshole.
Would Clint do that to Jaden? I already see the way he looks at Faith when he thinks I’m not looking.
Surely, he wouldn’t sink so low as fucking my only son in the ass. Surely, he would never.
I’ll rip his goddamn tongue out if he tries.
I bang the table with the side of my fist and point my finger at Clint. He’s lucky there ain’t a steak knife at this table or I’d be pointing it at his heart. “Don’t you ever bend my boy over this table. Do you fuckin’ hear me, bro? You keep your tongue away from his you-know-what.”
Clint looks up from his phone long enough to arch an eyebrow at me. “I’m straight.”
“A likely story,” Ezra calls out from behind the living room archway. He must be doing his makeup in the mirror by the thermostat again. I swear to God, the guy stares at it more than he stares at me, and my boy stares at his Daddy a lot.
Clint just sighs and shakes his head. “How the fuck did I end up in a living situation where I’m the voice of reason? I’m an atheist. I don’t even believe in this shit.”
“But you believe in our little family,” I remind him. “And you believe in having a good job that allows you to financially support yourself. Keep talking back to my boy, and that may not be the case for long.”
Clint just groans and turns his attention back to his phone. “Fine. But I want six days of PTO for this. There’s this girl down in Florida I’ve been sexting. I think we might make it Facebook official soon. She asked me to meet her somewhere called Lauderdale-by-the-sea, wherever the fuck that is.”
Ezra calls out, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“Yeah, well, you’re not me.”
“You will meet no lady in Lauderdale-by-the-sea, only a cheeky little twink named Archie.” Ezra steps around the archway and enters, looking absolutely breathtaking.
He’s wearing purple short-shorts, a purple-and-silver crop top, and his pretty, purple psychic scarf.
Every inch of his creamy skin makes my cock swell harder beneath the table.
Clint’s jaw tightens. “Don’t fuck with me, bro. Not about this. Not when it comes to my internet girlfriend, Ashley.”
Ezra rolls his eyes. “Don’t get mad at me, I’m just relaying the message. Barbara says if you go down there, you’re gonna fall madly in love, and you’ll have a dick in your ass by noon.”
I choke on nothing, hacking and coughing, banging my chest. “Jesus. Ezzy.”
Ezra lifts his hands in mock surrender. “The spirits are at play, and I cannot gatekeep what they say.”
“I’d love her anyway,” Clint softly says, like he’s making some monumental decision.
“Even if she’s trans. She’s still a woman.
” He lifts a fist of solidarity. “In this house, we protect the dolls, and if my girlfriend has been too scared to tell me yet, that’s okay. Don’t you fuckin’ shame her for it.”
“She’s not a she. She’s literally a twink named Archie. I just said that. Were you not listening? Honestly, I don’t know what part of his story seems believable to you. We’ve all seen his pictures. You’ve shown them to us several times.”
Clint glares. “She’s a pretty girl, and I’m fuckin’ proud of her. Fuck me for showing her off to my friends.”
“Clint,” I say, giving him a nervous glance. “Ezzy is right. Her hair don’t even look believable in the pictures.”
“Bullshit.”
“He has a full beard,” Ezra points out. “In every picture you’ve shown us.”
“It’s true,” Johnny says, looking sick to his stomach, but I don’t think it’s about this. Something must have happened with Faith earlier. He looks shell-shocked. “And that wasn’t hair, it’s just vector art he put over his head in Canva.”
“It was a filter!” Clint screams, fed up, apparently. “And even if it is, they would still be woman enough for me.”
Ezra nods. “Look at you, Mr. All-Inclusive Ally. I’ve had you pegged wrong this whole time.”
“I’ve been pegged a few times,” he admits. “It felt real nice.”
Across the table, Johnny’s attention is on his phone, and when he sets it down to grab a stick of gum from his pocket, I realize he’s been looking at a picture of the three of us.
It’s a picture we took out front, standing on the lake shore.
In the picture, my dick print is fully visible, and Ezra is turned to the side, his back arched, his ass popped out at the perfect angle.
Johnny has been staring at Ezzy’s ass and my dick in the picture for fuck knows how long.
I’ll have to break the news to Faith and Jaden tonight.
I wanted a few final hours before coming out to them.
A couple more hours added to the ‘before’ portion of my coming out journey.
A handful of minutes where I’m still the same man as last time I saw them.
I know they won’t abandon me, but I’m scared they’ll see me differently, even if it isn’t in a bad way.
Maybe it’s just me, but the tension in the room almost feels palpable, and there’s a sense of genuine hatred pouring out of Ezzy, toward my ex-wife. Is he jealous of her? He doesn’t have to be. My heart beats for my boys now, not Faith. I love her, sure, but she’s not my future. They are.
Ezra softly hums to himself, his palms upturned toward the ceiling as he bobbles his head left and right, eyes closed, lips slightly parted, fucking begging to be sucked. “These spirits aren’t just speaking, Faith. They’re screaming out a righteous song of rage.”
Faith stares at Ezra, her eyebrows meeting in the center of her head. “A righteous song of rage? Is that bad?”
“Does it sound like a good thing?” he snaps, his voice a lot shriller than the situation calls for.
“Ezzy,” I whisper, squeezing his hand. Johnny reaches for the other, but he just slaps it away, giving him the meanest look I’ve ever seen.
Closing his eyes, Ezra takes a deep breath, whispering, “Yes, I know, Barbara. No one asked for your input.” He pauses like he’s listening, scowling the whole time. “If you continue to lie directly to my face, I swear to God, I’ll hire an exorcist. I’ve had enough of your shit today, Babs.”
“Who is he talking to?” Jaden asks.
“His spirit guide, bro,” Johnny says, and Ezra jerks his head in Johnny’s direction. “Her name is Barbara. I ain’t met her yet, but Ez says she’s good people, so I know she has to be.” As Johnny stares at Ezra, there’s this strange, almost remorseful look etched across his face.
“I’ve said nothing of the sort,” Ezra says, sounding bitter.
“You have too,” I chime in, but it just earns me a mean mug. “You talk about her like she’s a second mother. You love her, baby.”
“You are humiliating me,” he growls under his breath. “In front of God and everyone. Is that how it is now? You’ll just take Johnny’s side no matter what the truth might be? Why, exactly? Because you’ve known him longer? Because he’s higher on your proverbial pecking order?”
“Pecking order?”
“Pecking order,” he confirms. He lifts his hand over his head.
“You’ve got your son up here, which, yeah, I get it.
” He lowers his hand a few inches. “Then you’ve got Johnny, way up here.
” He lowers his hand even lower. “Then there’s your stupid Core Four.
” A little lower this time. “And then there’s your ex-wife.
” He jerks his hand up higher. “Even if she apparently wishes she was up here, with both you and Johnny.” Being as dramatic as humanly possible, he leans down, his hand only a few inches above the floor.
“And then there’s me, surviving on breadcrumbs of devotion.
” He clenches his jaw. “At least I know where I stand. Next to nothing, lower than low.”