Texas, Our Texas 10

Chapter 10

Texas, Our Texas

Jonah tossed his bag down in the kitchen on top of several textbooks and scattered papers. Probably Blade’s he could never keep track of his stuff, even though Jonah knew Milton made him keep it in the study, and he’d seen Milton more than once organize it for the young redhead. He’d probably dropped half of it, running to catch the train. The kid was always late; he was always everything irresponsible and impertinent, but...

No, Jonah wasn’t going to think about it. The contrast between his youth and Blade’s was too painful. Jonah pulled the orange juice from the fridge and took a swig from the container.

“They’ll swat you if they catch you. Use a glass, boy.”

“Blade, what are you doing home?”

“I could ask you the same thing. I know they’ve got you so short leashed you can hardly wipe your ass without a dom standing over you.”

“Shut up, Blade!” Jonah turned away, trying to repress his anger. He didn’t need another Milton lecture about not lashing out or thinking before reacting.

“Well, it’s true, and if you’re like me you fucking like it. And I think you’re very like me just too big of a chicken shit to admit it. You’re a fucking sub, a big wide, flashing neon sub.”

“Does Milton let you talk this way?” Jonah asked. He wasn’t going to react. This was just a stupid kid trying to get his goat.

“Fuck no. He beats my ass, but I’ve got one coming so I might as well go for the whole enchilada. There’s no fun in halfway measures.” Blade’s eyes were laughing, and he flipped his hair off his face in a practiced gesture that spoke of teasing and sexuality. 

“Blade.” Jonah tried to find the voice of authority, the voice he’d used with his students and with Samuel, a voice he couldn’t ever seem to find now.

“Don’t even try.” Blade pulled a can of pop from the fridge and plopped on a chair. “You’re not a dom; you’re not even a Mace type who plays at dull and boring ninety percent of the time. I’m not one bit impressed by your attempt at fierceness.”

“You are impossible.” Jonah knew he should just walk away. This conversation was going to end badly. He was either going to say something that would bring the doms’ wrath down on his head, or he was going to be tempted by Blade. He couldn’t help it; he wanted what Blade had. Blade was so happy and carefree, and he basked in the dominants’ attention. Jonah had hid during college, the studious geek. He hadn’t wanted to live in the library, but girls and frat parties scared him. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from being half hard around all those guys, and with drink he might have said too much; studying had been much safer.

“Yeah, that’s me. The impossible sub stuck in permanent limbo, tossed over Milton’s knee, but not allowed to have the other part. Shit, at least you have Samuel. You do have sex, don’t you?”

Jonah could feel the color rise is his face, and he bit back his urge to either run for cover or automatically deny that he and Samuel were a couple. This wasn’t Texas; of course they were a couple.

“Could you turn any redder, man? It’s not like we’re in a monastery. Milton tries the monk thing with me, but I know he and Sheldon fuck like rabbits.”

“Blade, are you always so crude?”

“Nah, just with you. You need to relax. Of course if I had the tops hanging all over me like they are you, I might be jumping out of my skin too. What the hell did you do? Attack them or something? Milton won’t tell me a thing, and even brother Sheldon’s all tight lipped about it.”

Jonah stared at Blade. The kid was so open and guileless. It couldn’t be a trick to get him to talk about it. They’d been all over him about talking. Why couldn’t they just forget about it? He’d cut himself; Milton had jumped all over him for it, and they were still watching him like he was going to instantly implode. They had dragged the damn doctor down here to talk to him again. He’d been mister smooth and soft spoken, the perfect guy to trip you up. He’d lounged on the sofa, tossing peanuts in his mouth and chatting with Milton and Tilden. Adam, he’d insisted on being all informal and using his first name, had finally given up and gone and talked to the tops. Jonah had probably been diagnosed with something. At least they hadn’t hauled him off or started stuffing pills down his throat. Samuel had told him to stop being so damn paranoid, but Samuel was trusting. Samuel would never have survived back home without Jonah; he would have divulged something, and the consequences would have been irreparable damage.

“So what got the tops all freaked?” Blade asked again. The grin on his face was wide and charming. “It’s not like you ever do any real crazy submissive shit, but they’ve got you grounded for life. Being grounded is a drag especially if you didn’t do anything fun to get stuck with them breathing down your neck. You’re the most unfun sub on the planet.”

“Am I a sub?” Why had he asked that? He couldn’t be one of these maniacs. Who was going to take care of Samuel? Samuel wasn’t a top. If Jonah was a sub, he’d need a top, or at least that’s the way things seemed to work around here.

“Jonah,” Blade laughed. “It couldn’t get more obvious if you wore a sign on your back.”

“I don’t throw food at the dinner table or try to dress like a hoodlum.”

Blade ran his hand through his hair and spiked it upright. “You should ask Sheldon; he can explain this stuff.”

“Fine,” Jonah snapped. Why had he ever asked Blade anything? The boy was impossible.

“Jonah, I wasn’t trying to put you off,” Blade said softly, his expression more serious than Jonah had ever seen it. “It’s just I’m not the expert. I don’t have a top. I’m the odd man out here.” Blade paused and took a long gulp of soda. “And you’re a lot older than I am. You should know about this.”

“You don’t know anything about Texas?” 

It was a half question and Blade gave Jonah a partial shrug as if knowledge of far away places was unimportant. “They’ve got some warped family value thing, but it’s not like you can get pregnant.”

“Texas has sodomy laws. Being gay gets you arrested.”

“Oh,” Blade muttered, looking long and hard at Jonah as if it were the first time he’d seen him. “Look, I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about this.”

“No,” Jonah said sharply, standing up from the table and tossing the juice carton in the trash. He paced back in forth by the counter, fingering the freshly baked bread and the leftover cookies. “I want to know.”

“Haven’t Milton and Tilden talked to you? They’re big on talking.”

“They’re not boys.” Where had that come from? Why did he care about Blade’s opinion?

“It takes one to know one,” Blade said with a grin. 

“I’m not planning to run through the house in muddy boots and throw books across the room.”

“No, you just get all sullen and are like living with an unexploded bomb. The only time you’re halfway normal is if Milton has punished you. You’re not all prickly if he spanks you first. You like it. You like it when he takes that control. Stop looking like you’re going to have a stroke. I’m the one who’s ass end up nearly every day, and yeah I know it hurts, but it works for me, and it works for you. I can see it in your expression. You want them to have it. Let them take it.”

“I can’t. I can’t be this.”

“If it feels good, why not? It’s not like it’s a crime around here.”

“I have responsibilities,” Jonah ground out, staring out the window and wishing it was different. What would it have been like to have been born here? That was stupid. He was Texan. He wasn’t a submissive. He couldn’t let himself be a submissive.

“Jonah, where’d you get such a fucked up opinion about subs? Sure I like to goof off, and I like getting in trouble, but being a boy doesn’t mean you don’t have responsibilities. Sheldon has a real job in the real world. He’s the one who brought me here. I was totally fucked up, and my brother scooped me up and dropped me in Milton’s lap.”

“What had you done?”

“I have a son.” Blade played with the Coke can on the table. “It’s a big screw up--forever and ever.”

“Having a child isn’t a screw up.” Jonah frowned as he repeated Blade’s phrase. “It’s a blessing.”

“I’m not exactly daddy material.”

“You have to be better than mine,” Jonah muttered.

“He didn’t take your being gay too well?”

“I never told him. He would have had me arrested himself with great joy.”

Blade didn’t say anything. He just looked at Jonah with wide green eyes before rising from the chair. He walked over to Jonah and wrapped his arm around the Texan. “And I thought my life was screwed up.”

“There’s more,” Jonah choked, his voice thick with unshed tears. “He beat the crap out of me. I was never good enough for him. Nothing was ever good enough.”

“You’re good enough for us, and that’s all that matters.”

“I can’t take care of Samuel. I’m not a top. All I’ve ever done is hurt him.” Jonah wiped the tears from his face with vicious swipe. He wasn’t going to cry, not in front of this child. “Let go of me.”

“No.”

“I don’t want to talk anymore.”

“You’re not running away.”

“I don’t belong here. Samuel needs a top; I’m just in the way.” Jonah pulled from Blade’s grasp

Blade grabbed at Jonah’s hand. “Samuel’s not a submissive. Samuel’s not a sub,” he repeated. “You idiot.”

“He’s not a top?” Jonah asked, freezing in place.

Blade shook his head. “I don’t think so, but haven’t you noticed Tilden and Milton with him? They ask Samuel; they order us. With Trent it’s harder to tell because you’ve got to get pretty dramatic before he gets all toppy, and Samuel’s the shy type.”

Jonah stared at the floor. If Samuel weren’t a sub, but he was? No that would be just as bad. He’d need a top. He couldn’t be a sub.

“You can be a sub because Samuel doesn’t need a top.”

“But I will.” Where had that come from? He wasn’t a sub.

“You can join me in the purgatory of limbo. Milton promises the right guy will come along, but I think that’s a fairy tale. I might as well believe the moon’s made out of green cheese. No one’s going to want my crazy ass, especially since I’m not exactly unencumbered. You’ll be a catch, dude. And you’re fucking hot. Do you ever look at yourself in the mirror? Both you and Samuel, refugees from far away, searching for love. You’ll have to beat them off with sticks.”

Jonah laughed. It was Blade who turned heads with his emerald eyes and smattering of freckles. Jonah had muddy brown eyes, and dark hair that if he didn’t cut ruthlessly short stood up at all sorts of ridiculous angles.

Blade grinned that crazy grin of his, all teeth and dimples. “Now that we’ve established you’ve got the goods and are a crazy ass boy like me let’s have some fun. I’m already going to get my butt kicked. I might as well go for it big time. More fun that way.”

“More fun?” Jonah shouldn’t be asking these questions. He didn’t care. Let the boy play on his own.

“Well, you know if your ass is toast, you might as well go for the big Kahuna. And I’m toast, trust me. I failed my fucking test, and Milton will ask, and I’m supposed to be in class. And I lied to him about the test. A totally sucky day.”

“And getting in more trouble will make it better?”

Blade shrugged. “It won’t make it worse.” Blade looked up at Jonah. “You don’t get this, do you?” He didn’t wait for Jonah to answer but kept talking at that same rapid clip that took concentration to understand. “I’ve already broken several rules, some biggies, but I’ve had no fun. I might as well have some fun first. It’s not like he’ll really hurt me. He’s already going to be disappointed. What’s a little more?” Blade paused, his expression quizzical. “Are you afraid of the tops?”

Jonah started to deny it, but then looked at Blade with his bright eyes and scattered hair. This kid had been spilling his heart out. He at least deserved some honesty. “I don’t know.”

“Your dad? Have you told them that? They’d have a stroke if they thought you were afraid. You know afraid for real, not all teasing and tingling or a little apprehensive if you’ve royally screwed up.”

“I don’t want them to stop.” Jonah bit his lip to stop himself from saying more; he’d already said too much. He shouldn’t be blabbering on.

“What happened to your hand?”

Jonah looked down. It was only a small Band-Aid now. If it wasn’t where it rubbed everything, it would already be healed up. “I cut it.”

“No duh, and I have red hair. Adam was here, and I do know what he does for a living, and Tilden and Milton were both upset. They hide it well, but I can tell when they go on long walks together. You didn’t hurt yourself intentionally?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jonah said automatically.

Blade snorted. “Milton doesn’t give me a choice. Come on. You can tell me. It’s easier to tell the tops after you tell one of us guys. I practice on Sheldon all the time. The problem is he’ll drop hints to Milton if I don’t fess up quickly.”

Jonah pulled open the fridge door. He wasn’t really thirsty, but suddenly the fridge felt easier and safer than Blade’s inquisitive eyes and overeager questions. He’d been ignoring Blade, putting him down as a young and immature kid, but this kid was sharp. Somehow he’d burrowed inside Jonah’s defenses, and Jonah was inexplicably drawn to tell him everything. Maybe it was because he was so young and nonjudgmental. He wasn’t telling Jonah what to do, only listening and asking. “Do you want another Coke?”

“Sure. Are you going to tell me what happened?”

Jonah popped open the can and took a long gulp. He’d always told Samuel to use a glass at home, even yelled at him for it, and now he was drinking out of the can. “Tilden was trying to talk to me. He wanted me to talk about my feelings.”

“Tilden’s like that. He’s harmless.”

“He was asking me what I thought a submissive was.”

“All you had to do was point at yourself.”

Jonah stared at the Coke can, the familiar white script of the bright red can. He’d never dreamed it would be this hard when he’d left Texas and that he’d be sitting next to a twenty year old who used the word dude, couldn’t pass a basic algebra class, and saw right through Jonah’s carefully built facade.

“What’s so hard about this?”

“I lived in Texas.”

“Well, you don’t now. You want the submissive stuff, don’t you? I’ve seen you when you stop fighting. Everyone here will take good care of you. I should know. I’ve entangled half the town in my games and someone comes and rescues me.”

“I don’t want to advertise my idiocy to the world,” Jonah snapped.

“It’s not idiocy; it’s my peculiar brand of submissiveness, and they’ll be relieved. Entangling the police or innocent neighbors in ploys for attention tends to get Milton very hot under the collar.” Blade laughed. “Sometimes it’s fun, but it is like tweaking the tiger’s tail. So did you slice up your hand to keep Tilden from asking questions? There are better ways you know with Tilden. Develop a sudden interest in the Russian verbs of motion, and he’ll go into teacher mode and you’re safe.”

“You’re incorrigible.” Jonah found himself smiling. He hadn’t even wanted to think about that conversation, and now he was smiling. “I’ll remember it for next time.”

“So what did happen?”

Jonah fell silent. He traced his finger around the rim of the Coke can. “I freaked; I think that’s the expression you would use. One minute I’m telling Tilden I don’t want to talk to him, and the next minute I’m dripping blood on the table in a daze. I think I broke the glass on the table.”

“We’ve all broken a few dishes. It’s not the end of the world.”

Jonah rubbed his thumb against his other hand. He’d read that it was a self comforting gesture in some popular magazine at a train station or a doctor’s office, but he didn’t care. At least it helped hide the shaking. “I did that once with my father, and he beat me bloody with his belt.”

“Tilden’s safe.” 

The words were absolute and comforting in their easy and unpretentious truth. Jonah knew that, but he’d been blind with a terror he couldn’t explain, not as an adult and a rational human being. For a minute, he’d thought it was his father, and it had been Tilden with the wooden spoon. It hadn’t even hurt. He’d been wearing his heavy work jeans. He couldn’t tell that shrink guy; he couldn’t tell Milton or Tilden. They would make him go away. He didn’t want to go away. He didn’t want to be treated. He wanted to stay. He wasn’t crazy.

“So you broke the glass. What happened?”

“You’ll tell them,” Jonah said, still rubbing his thumb against his other hand.

“You should. Practice on me. It will be easier with them.”

Jonah swallowed, trying to moisten his mouth with spit that felt like it had been out in the Texas sun. “I hallucinated or disassociated or something. I thought Tilden was my father. Shit! I’m crazy. Don’t tell them. They’ll make me go away.”

“Stop!”

Jonah jerked his head up at Blade’s shout, focusing on the green eyes that were both very worried and very fierce.

“They’re not going to make you go away or any such crazy nonsense. They’ll make you talk about it, write about it, recite poetry in Russian about it or something, but go away is not in the cards. It’s not that big a deal. You’re a man, a submissive, a boy in the games we play with some bad stuff from the past. They can figure that out, but you need to talk to someone about the bad stuff, and Adam really is pretty nice. Milton had me talk to him about being a dad. He was pretty cool, not that it helped much I’m still a disaster, but I’m slightly less terrified, and I stopped trying to run away. You know what Milton said? He didn’t want to beat me senseless or chain me to the bed, so he needed to find out why I kept hightailing it out of here. He didn’t stop treating me like a naughty submissive; he just did some other things too.” Blade smiled, a soft almost embarrassed grin. “I know it’s nothing like what you lived through, but it does get better and being a boy is so worth it. Can we go have fun now? This counseling stuff is really exhausting.”

“What are you planning to do?” Why was he asking? Did he intentionally want to get in trouble with this lunatic boy? He’d spent his life trying to stay out of trouble; first at home with his disastrous efforts to be a model son. He’d been valedictorian, a sports star, a scout, but nothing had kept him from his father’s wrath. Jonah crushed the can in his hand, enjoying the satisfying feel of the aluminum popping under the pressure.

“Don’t cut your hand on that,” Blade said and snatched the can away from Jonah and tossed it in the trash. “So what do you want to do?”

Jonah shrugged. He’d never planned naughtiness. That’s what this was pure naughtiness.

“Fire,” Blade said with a wicked grin.

“I’m not committing arson,” Jonah said, starting to get up from the table.

“Not arson, you idiot. What do you think I am? I’m not a criminal or a total flipping lunatic. Only burn my textbook and test. Hide the evidence.”

“Won’t Milton ask what you were burning?”

“Yeah, and I’ll tell him,” Blade said with a theatrical sigh. “He’s impossible to lie to. Come on. It’ll be fun. You must have things you want to burn. Stuff from Texas. We can cook marshmallows too.”

Jonah let himself be persuaded. He didn’t want to think why he following this kid into certain doom. Jonah gathered the wood into a neat pile. He’d been a scout; he did know how to make bonfires, not that he had ever made one in the backyard with the explicit idea of burning a college algebra book. Jonah had taught math, ironic beyond words. “I could have helped you with this,” Jonah said, folding the test paper into the fire as part of the kindling.

“You haven’t exactly been approachable, and well, you know, planning’s not my thing. It’s one of my charms.” 

“Brat,” Jonah said with a grin.

“Yep, number one. Milton will make you tutor me after this. It will fit his diabolical mind.”

Jonah struck a match and watched the fire slowly take light, first the paper, then the twigs, and finally the wood they had taken from the wood box. Blade tossed his algebra book onto the fire.

“Textbooks are expensive,” Jonah said watching the licking flames.

“Don’t ruin the fun. Milton will take the money out of my hide, but let me enjoy it first. Don’t you have anything to burn?”

“I’m not destructive.”

“No you just self-destruct,” Blade snapped back, poking at the fire at the stick.

“It’s none of your business.”

“Don’t you get all high and mighty with me. You’re a boy just like I am, and you’re spinning so hard you’re permanently dizzy. At least I get off the merry-go-round sometimes. At least I’m not afraid to admit I’m on the merry-go-round. I’m a boy,” Blade shouted. “I’m a sub without a fucking top.” Blade ran around the fire, screaming lewd things about being a sub. He halted, ripped his shirt off, and threw it into the flames. “I’m a half-naked boy.” He stopped, kicked off his shoes, and slid his jeans down his slim hips. “I’m a naked boy,” he sang, spinning his pants over his head and throwing them into the fire.”

“Blade,” Jonah hissed.

“There’s a fence, and the neighbors are at work anyway. I’ll take my boxers off if you don’t throw something in the fire.” Blade ran his hand down his chest and rested it on the waistband or his bright green boxers.

“Blade.”

“Well, should I toss them in?” 

“No!” Jonah pulled his wallet from his back pocket and flipped through the worn contents: Texas driver’s license, university ID, university library card, pictures--the woman that he pretended was his girlfriend, a few dollars and a coupon from a local fast food place for a second order of fries at half price. He stuffed the money and the coupon in his pocket and shut the wallet with a snap; his finger traced the initials on the front. The wallet had been a present from his father at his college graduation; the bastard hadn’t even come, hadn’t let his mother come. Instead his parents had gone to some outing with clients his father was trying to impress. He threw the wallet into the flames.

“Jonah?” Blade asked softly.

“I just burnt Texas.” Jonah didn’t wipe the tear that was sliding down his cheek. “I’m not Texan anymore.” Jonah drew himself up to his full height. He wasn’t a small man. He knew people respected his physical stature. “I am an American boy.” He unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt and ripped it over his head. With a hard fling, he tossed it into the fire.

“You’re pants too,” Blade chided.

“No, I’m not in your league.”