Page 80 of Filthy Little Secret

“I’m sorry. I’m always complaining about Mom, but at least my parents stuck around.”

“No, it’s fine,” he says. “I just don’t ever talk about it because I didn’t ever get a chance to know my parents. Mom wasn’t around when I was a kid. She’d run off with some other guy and decided that I obviously wasn’t a part of her future. That’s what Dad always told me, at least. I guess that’s the nice way of putting it. His version was more like, ‘Your mother never loved you, so she left both of us.’”

“Oh my God.”

“No, don’t feel sorry for me. He was an asshole. I don’t know how Nanna could be such an amazing person and have given birth to such a shithead. He was a construction worker, and I didn’t see him most of the time. When I did, he was either stoned out of his mind or wasted. Not the abusive kind that people always give shit. More the negligent, doesn’t-give-a-fuck kind. He started hitting harder stuff when I began high school. Needless to say, I had to get good at mooching rides off other kids so that I could play football or do any sort of extracurricular activity.”

“You played football?”

That’s hot as fuck.

He smiles. He clearly knows why that story interested me.

“Yeah. That’s why I’m so good at tackling your ass,” he says.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“That’s pretty much it. I don’t know why he felt like he had to get rid of me since he didn’t do shit. I guess maybe it just weighed on his mind too much when I was around the house like that. Whatever the reason, he dropped me off at Nanna’s, claiming some bullshit about having to go out of town for some sort of work conference. Yeah right.” He scoffs. “I knew he was gone the moment he drove off, and I think Nanna did, too. But I fucking lucked out getting Nanna and not having to deal with my asshole parents.”

As he says it though, I can see his discomfort. Like he’s silently screaming, “But why didn’t you love me?”

Maybe that’s why he was always pushing against the idea of getting close to people. Maybe that’s why he preferred to just hook up with guys.

My thoughts pull me in another, equally compelling direction. “So considering your dad was a drug addict, I wouldn’t have expected you to go into this line of work to begin with.”

He smirks wryly. “Right? Oh, well, I guess it’s just the family business. How this shitty world works, I guess.”

“But it doesn’t make you feel weird, knowing that you’re enabling someone else to be that much of a deadbeat?”

“I figure they’re going to end up like that anyway. In some ways, I wonder if I’m not doing this because it’s sort of revenge against my father. Like I’m helping these people wreck their lives sooner rather than later, but really, I think the reason I kept it at dealing with college kids is because it’s mostly recreational. It won’t always be, I know that. But at least I can justify it by saying that they’re not fucking up some kid’s life. Just their own. Plus, you know how I hate you bratty rich kids anyway. I don’t care if I fuck you up a bit.”

He winks at me. I know he doesn’t mean that.

“I just like it when you fuck me up.”

“Up the ass,” he says, smiling once again. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to turn this into such a sad night.”

“It’s not sad. I like hearing about your life. I like knowing more about you.”

“I like knowing more about you, too, Mark.”

Tim grabs the back of my neck and rubs gently.

I enjoy the way he kneads my flesh.

“Maybe you should go into massage therapy,” I tease.

But it raises a question I’ve had since he told me he wanted to try a different life.

“Speaking of which, what are your plans if you’re not going to keep on dealing?”

“I was thinking about going back to bartending. I’m good at it, and the money wasn’t terrible. I have a few friends who work at places around town. They might be able to give this dealer a little in. This is the best job for networking, after all.”

“Well, I hope it’s better than waiting fucking tables, because that fucking sucks.”

He smirks.

“Well, I like it when things suck.”

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