Page 67 of Follows with Intent

“Fuck doll,” North said.

For maybe the first time since Jadon had known him, Shaw choked on his spit.

“What?” Jadon asked.

Slapping Shaw on the back, North said, “You want a fuck doll. A sex doll. That’s great, Jay. That’s easy. You can get good ones in Japan, we’ll find you one.”

“I don’t—”

“Yeah, you do. Doesn’t bother you. Doesn’t complain. Stays home and is available whenever you need him. Doesn’t mind being second in your life. That’s a fuck doll, buddy. You get that and a maid service, and you’re set.”

By that point, Shaw had recovered enough to say, “North!”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re—” Shaw grimaced. “Well, actually, he might be right.”

Jadon transferred the puppy to Shaw’s lap and stood. “Okay, I remember why I never come to you for advice.”

Shaw squawked—it was hard to tell, because Jadon only saw it out of the corner of his eye, but it looked like the puppy had bitten him and, for only an instant, appeared immensely proud of itself—and stood, dislodging the puppy onto the sofa. North immediately bent to check on the dog, saying, “Be careful with him!” The look on Shaw’s face made Jadon think of the lady who made dresses out of skin. Pointy teeth, indeed.

Cradling the dog to his chest, North gave Shaw a passing glare and then said to Jadon, “Life is a bitch, Jay. It’s not fair. It’s miserable. And relationships are hard as fuck, especially when one of you is a grown-ass man who gets jealous of a puppy.”

“He bit me! Jadon, you saw him!”

“I’m not saying I’m the expert, but I’ll tell you one thing: there’s no such thing as a complication-free relationship. You’re never going to find a person who’s going to take a back seat and give you all the benefits without any of the emotional commitment, without the compromises, without the sacrifices. If that’s what you want, then, yeah, I guess you should let Nico go, because it wouldn’t be fair to him. But if you’re tired of being the Million Dollar Man or a cyborg or whatever the fuck you are living off almond butter and oat groats, if you want an actual human life with an actual human man and an actual fucking chance at happiness, then nut up, buddy, and go tell him you’re sorry.”

Jadon stared at him. “That has got to be the worst motivational speech I’ve ever heard. That’s got to be worse than the one Shaw gave that cannibal.”

“It got better at the end,” Shaw reassured North, “when you got to the part about ‘nut up.’”

“Fuck you,” North said, “and fuck you. Fuck the pair of you, you old pocket wangs.”

Jadon rubbed his eyes. He wasn’t sure how to put it into words, the way when he thought of Nico, he could feel the emotions building, feel the static charge that made the hairs on his arms stand up, feel himself rushing toward—something. And then a part of him balked, and he knew what that was: fear. A kid who’s so afraid of the dark. “Oh my God,” he said, unable to help the dismay in his voice. “I have to talk to him.”

North snorted.

At the door, Shaw kissed his cheek.

“Do not fuck this up,” North said.

“You’re going to do great,” Shaw said. “Call us and tell us how it goes.”

“I’m not going to do that,” Jadon said.

“Thank God,” North said and started to close the door.

As Jadon made his way down the walk, Shaw said, “You realize that I slept with Jadon, and Jadon slept with Nico, and Nico slept with Emery, which means by the transitive property, Emery and I are lovers.”

“By the transitive property,” North said, “that means you’ve fucked a goat.”

“Always a pleasure,” Jadon called over his shoulder.

The door slammed shut.

It was going to be an easy murder to solve, Jadon thought. Honestly, the judge and jury might even find North’s actions justified.

17

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