Page 44 of Close Quarters

“Mmm, you manage it at least half a dozen times a day, and that’s on a good day,” he told me, leaning closer. “The good days are the ones where we get laid.”

“I like how you had to make it a ‘we’ thing,” I told him, knowing full well he was trying to distract me with sex talk and that it was working.

“I mean,” he began, looking off into the distance wistfully. “You did give it to me pretty good the other day.”

“Just the other day.”

“Alright, I might be willing to admit that you consistently give it to me good.”

“Uh huh, and when was the last time you got laid before we fucked?”

“Is that important?”

“I mean, you could be looking through rose-tinted glasses. Pretty easy to think the sex is good when you haven’t been getting any.”

Elliot grinned, leaning against the nearby fencepost and watching me as I tried to busy myself with cleaning up more. “What makes you think it’s been that long?”

“You telling me those guys were right?” I asked and then winced.

His brow scrunched up. “What guys? About what?”

“I…goddammit, I’m picking up your big mouth,” I complained with a sigh. “I never meant to tell you.”

“Tell me what, Reno?”

“That…that day you were all into that whittling shit. A couple of guys were talking about you. I could hear them from where I was sitting, but I don’t think they realized.”

“And what did they say?”

“A lot of shit that wasn’t their business.”

“Reno, c’mon. I’m a big boy.”

I rolled my eyes. “A big kid, maybe.”

“Just tell me,” he said, beginning to sound irritated.

“Fine,” I said, my next stab at the dirty hay a little harder than it needed to be. “They were calling you a faggot, and talked about how you probably let yourself get passed around while you were in whatever prison you were in. I didn’t hear much more after that because I left.”

“Oh,” he said and then shrugged. “Well, if that’s the worst they said, I think I can handle that.”

“Seriously? I call you a name, and you want to bitch me out. They talk like that about you, and you don’t give a shit?”

“Should I give a shit what some random asshats had to say about me? Should I walk up to them and tell them that ‘faggot’ is a naughty word that can hurt feelings? That’s not going to change shit. And it won’t matter if I tell them, no, I did not, in fact, get passed around, and I kept outta that shit while I was behind bars, do you think they’ll believe me? That they’ll care?”

“Tch. So it was a waste of emotions on my part,” I grumbled. “You still didn’t tell me why you get pissed at me, and they get away without even a little bitching.”

Instead of answering immediately, he watched me for a few seconds before giving a slow shrug. “I guess because I don’t give a shit what they have to say. People have been saying nasty shit about me my whole life, I got used to it.”

His answer created a…complicated reaction. At first glance, I wanted to tell him he shouldn’t shrug it off when people were dicks to him and should be more like he was whenever I gave him shit. On second thoughts, it felt strange that he was apparently attributing more weight to my words and behavior. Maybe now we were living together and had been screwing, I could see how that might color his views on me. But he had been combative against my attitude from pretty much the beginning, so what did that say? Had he been giving more weight to my words even when he didn’t know me?

That was a troubling thought and not one I wanted to worry about too much. I wasn’t going to try to understand the weird and twisting ways his mind worked. I valued what little of my sanity was left for something like that. Plus, the thought had a lot of implications I was nowhere near prepared to go anywhere near.

“Hey!” I heard Max bark, pulling me out of my uncomfortable thoughts. “Leave the guy who’s actually getting work done alone and let him do his thing.”

Elliot rolled his eyes. “Well, boss man is calling. I guess I should probably go…for now.”

“Yeah, leave me in peace,” I huffed. I wasn’t sure if I really wanted him to go, but I definitely wasn’t comfortable with the feelings I was being left with.

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