Page 30 of Close Quarters

The thought flitted through my head for the umpteenth time as I glared at the cabin ceiling. It had been a few hours since I’d tried to come back here alone, only to have my personal babysitter practically bound through the door behind me. Thankfully, he hadn’t bothered to speak, and I was glad for that, at least. The last thing I wanted was an interrogation.

And to think, my afternoon had been going just fine until I’d heard one word while sitting quietly trying to read. A single word from a nearby conversation, spoken just a little too loudly by two guys I didn’t even know.

“I guess fag boy is getting around,” one had said, his voice loud enough to reach me but not carry through the din.

The second snorted. “What, Elliot? He and Dom aren’t a thing. Everyone knows that.”

“Are you kidding me, man? Dom is just the sort of guy to be hitting something on the side with Elliot?”

“What about Elliot?”

“Man, c’mon. Ain’t no one gonna be open about the fact they like dick unless they want a lot of dick. Probably had half a dozen poles shoved up his ass before he came here.”

I hadn’t wanted to hear the conversation, but all it had taken was that one word. A word I had grown all too familiar with because I’d heard it my whole life. First, it had been my dad, who liked to call anyone who pissed him off a ‘fag,’ but he wasn’t afraid to use the entire word when he thought a guy might be a little too ‘fruity’ for his tastes or just outright thought they were gay.

Funny, he hadn’t realized his own son was a fag until that same son got arrested for beating the shit out of his disgusting ex-boyfriend. I could almost appreciate the irony and wished I’d been there to see his reaction.

“Dom ain’t like that.”

“Whatever, man. I’m sure Elliot took one look at Dom and decided he wanted a taste of that dark chocolate.”

“Sounds like you’re the one who wants some.”

“Don’t say fucked up shit like that.”

“Whatever. Everyone knows he’s bunking with Reno now anyway.”

“Shit,” the first muttered. My eyes were locked onto my book, pretending I was still reading, but I could still see movement. The first guy was checking to make sure I hadn’t heard. Despite the rage building in my head, he seemed to think the coast was clear and kept talking. “Maybe that’s why they gave him to Reno.”

“For real? To fuck?”

“C’mon. Reno’s the meanest, angriest motherfucker in this place right now. Just give him a piece of easy ass, and boom! Problem solved.”

“Pussy would be better.”

“Yeah, well, there ain’t much of that around here. You know, a lot of guys take what they can get in places like this.”

“Sounds like you’d know.”

“I told you not to say stupid shit like that!”

“Whatever, man. I don’t see it. And I don’t care either.”

However, His buddy cared and continued his stupid little theorizing for the next fifteen minutes. It was about all I could stand, and I knew my options were to leave and not acknowledge they existed or fling myself at them. I didn’t think Leon and Mona would accept ‘they were talking shit’ as an acceptable reason to beat them up, so I’d left before I lost control.

A thump drew my head up from where I lay on my bed to find Elliot had managed to move to his desk without my having noticed. He had a pencil and was scratching away at something. The noise was irritating but better than listening to him talk. I didn’t need him to fill the silence of the cabin while I lay there, still trying to calm down. The longer he kept his mouth shut, the better.

Not that any of this was his fault. If the guy wanted to be out about liking dick, then fine, so be it. He knew the risks, he knew what it could mean, and he probably knew there were still plenty of guys here willing to talk shit about him over it. Would have been nice if I hadn’t been lumped in with the whole thing considering I kept my business fucking private, but fine, it wasn’t his fault.

But those two? God, talk about something other than shit most guys didn’t talk about openly in prison. That was the kind of shit everyone knew happened, but other than in private conversations, you kept quiet and let people go about their business. Talking usually meant someone got hurt like they almost did today.

Elliot let out a heavy sigh, tossing his pencil onto the desk before getting up and flinging himself onto his bed at an odd angle. The movement caught my eye, and I glanced his way, tensing when I realized his shirt had ridden up and his jeans had slipped down. Most guys here were probably like me, not worried about grooming, and from the hair sticking up from the waistline of Elliot’s exposed underwear, he hadn’t either.

The sunlight from the nearby window streamed over his exposed torso, making the faint hairs on his stomach sparkle. I could see his stomach muscles contract and relax with every movement. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen it. Elliot wasn’t self-conscious, moving around the room or doing his own thing. Not that outside this ranch or a prison, he should be all that self-conscious.

It annoyed me to admit it, mostly because of the stupid ass conversation I’d overheard, but he was pretty damn good-looking. The guy could be irritating, a pest for no good reason, but there was no pretending he wasn’t good-looking. In prison, I would have been sorely tempted to…indulge, but I refused to let myself be part of anything like that. The last thing I needed was to welcome more trouble by getting propositioned by other guys if they caught wind that I might be interested.

Outside, in the normal world, though? Oh, I would have definitely been interested…though after meeting him, I would have insisted on gagging him. He struck me as the sort of guy who wasn’t innocent despite the almost childish way he acted most of the time. He was probably a lot of fun when you got past his irritating mouth and under his clothes.

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