Page 57 of Getting It Twisted

“Any luck with that roommate ad?” I ask casually as I get myself a glass of water.

He shrugs. “I’ve vetted a few, but nothing’s set in stone yet.”

I decide it’s better to be frank with this. George prefers honesty above all else, after all. Maybe that’s why he and Nathan get along so badly.

“Nathan needs a place to stay.”

He sends me a slow, calculating look. “I thought he was staying at his mom’s place.”

“Well, he is, but—”

“But what? That old shack not up to his standards? I thought he was used to sleeping in his car.”

“Will you let me finish?”

“It depends. Are you asking what I think you’re asking?” He turns from the stove to look at me,reallylook at me, eyes burrowing into me with intent, and his voice drips with near disgust as he asks, “Are you fucking him?”

“Yeah,” I say with a shrug, though my heart starts pounding in my chest. I like to think I don’t care what George thinks of me, but he was the one to drag me out of my depressive hole a few years back. He was there for me when no one else was, and he deserves . . . I don’t know what he deserves. Shit, I don’t even know what I’m doing.

“He’s not a good person, Daniel,” he says in the tone of my father and uncle: slow and firm and commanding.

“Ifhe’snot a good person, what does that make your dad?”

He falters, eyes narrowing. “What?”

“Nathan told me all about Wayne’s visits to Theresa. Did you know?”

“Daniel, that’s . . .”

“Did you know he gave her drugs too?”

His cheeks go bright red, and the vein in his temple starts to pulse. “You know you’re playing right into his hands, right?”

Just then, April enters the room. “Some people are trying to study, you know. What’s going on in here?”

“Daniel wants Nathan to move in with us,” George says in a tone that makes it sound like I want us to finance him a trip to outer space or something.

“Oh. I thought he already had a house?”

“He’s in a bad way out there,” I say. “He needs me.”

“Needs you to stroke his ego maybe,” George says. “Fucking hell, Daniel, you’re more gullible than I thought.”

“His mom died, if you forgot.”

“So what, didn’t she beat him or something? From what I know, he hated her guts.”

“All the more complicated,” April says. “The death of your abuser, look it up.”

George waves a dismissive hand. “That guy doesn’t have the capacity for grief.”

“Fuck off, that’s not true,” I growl.

“I’m guessing he still doesn’t have a job?”

“No.”

“What’s his plan, then?”

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