Page 11 of Feral

“Uh-huh. Sounds good. What’s his name and how old is he?”

The silence on the other end is loud as fuck.

“Dimi. How old is he?”

My brother blows out a breath. “Forty.”

“Forty? What could you have in common with him?”

“Enough,” he replies, his tone tighter now. “I like older guys, okay?”

“I’m not here to criticize you, but I don’t want to see you get hurt again. These guys always seem to have… I don’t know, shitty intentions, I guess.”

“You know as well as I do that there’s nothing much for a guy like me here. Guys like Lawrence give me something to look forward to. I can be myself with him. Besides, the money and gifts are nice.”

“I know.”

“It’s not like we’re gonna get married.” His voice is softer now. “When I finish school, I’ll do something else like you did. Maybe I’ll come to New Onyx.”

“Maybe. Is your dad being okay these days?”

“Yeah, he’s been pretty stable. Haven’t seen a drink in a few days. Mom said he’s going back to the men’s prayer group too.”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. It takes more than a crusty group of conservative men reading Bible verses to calm Rich down after he’s had too many drinks. “If that helps him stay off the bottle I’m all for it.”

“Me too. Hey, how is the big city? Are you having fun?”

“Uh, yeah.” I scratch the back of my head. “I went out last night and found a really cool nightclub. I might work there part-time while I figure things out.”

“Any pretty girls?”

His question conjures images of Hale in my mind. “Nah.” I know I could tell my gay brother about the feelings I have, but it feels premature. Mild interest in a guy doesn’t feel worthy of a conversation just yet.

I was the first person Dimi told about his own sexuality, supporting him as he came out to our conservative parents and helping him navigate the people around town. He has a few solid friends at college and has found his way, and I’m so damn proud of him.

“I bet you’ll find someone amazing,” Dimi says. “You deserve it.”

“Thanks. It’ll happen when the time is right. I’m still learning the city and getting settled in.”

“Oh, I looked up Pride, and it’s in August. Maybe I can visit then.”

“I’d love that. Miss you, kidult.”

Dimi laughs. “I miss you too, old man.”

“Stay safe.”

“Always.”

We end the call and I walk over to my sofa and plop down, memories of the day my mom brought Dimi home from the hospital passing through my mind. My dad was never around, and I was already ten when she met Dimi’s dad, but he provided a lot of stability. I liked him at first, but about six years ago, he started drinking too much, making it hard to be around him sometimes.

I worried that he wouldn’t take his son being gay well, but both parents are reasonable about it. I wouldn’t say they’re happy, but they aren’t cruel or rejecting him either.

I just hope he’s being safe with these daddy figures he tends to date. He gets so wrapped up in them and then when it inevitably fizzles out, he’s like a lost puppy for a few weeks. Maybe after college he’ll move away from our hometown and experience more people his age. That’s my hope.

My thoughts shift back to my situation and my next move. There’s no point denying that I want to learn more about the club and the mysterious man who runs it, so I guess I’m going back tonight. With that decision made, I lean back on the couch and grab the remote, ready to surf channels for a few hours.

When I moved here, I told myself I’d be open to whatever life throws at me, so that’s exactly what I plan to do.

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