Random Acts of Trust (7 page)

“So...man, I’m leaving,” he said, his words clipped, his eyes barely making contact with mine.

“I know. You told me at the gig last night.”

“It’s sinking in, though.” He took a deep breath, as if it were foreign to him, and looked at me. “I need to leave soon.”

“Darla OK with this?” I knew Trevor was.

“Yeah, but Darla isn’t exactly thrilled. She didn’t even know what Penn was. She thought it was Penn State.”

We both laughed, an evil sound of condescension. Ivy League vs. flagship state university? No contest.

“I can take the train—it goes straight into South Station. I can be here in seven hours. Not every weekend,” he demurred, “but, you know....”

We resumed walking. Tourists were gathered around the little bronze statues of the
Make Way for Ducklings
ducks and I laughed, seeing little toddlers climbing on the momma’s back, parents geeking out and taking pictures. It was cute. There were lots of cute things when you looked around the Common on a Sunday morning: a million people with strollers, lots of tourists, a few strung out bums, but mostly happy faces.

It was so different from the Monday through Friday grind where you walked past people who were so deep in thought, bent over their smartphones. If the zombie apocalypse ever started on a work day I’m not sure how many people would notice before it was too late.

“When do you leave?” I asked Joe.

“About a week and a half.”

“You got a place? Already?”

“The power of Craigslist,” he said, stretching his hands out wide like a guru talking before an audience.

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Do you know how cheap a room is in Philly compared to here?”

“Not that you need to worry about that.” Joe’s parents gave him a spending allowance per month that rivaled some of the lower incomes in Dorchester and Mattapan—annual incomes, that is.

“No, but it’s more money for fun.”

“And train tickets,” I said pointedly.

He mulled that over. “Yeah. Darla’s going to kill me. So,” he said after a pause, “you want to take over my half of the apartment and share it with Trevor?”

The thought slammed into me—I knew what they paid. I knew what half of that apartment was going to cost. There was no fucking way I could afford it. On the other hand, what a luxury that would be. My own room? My own space? An actual bed? A decent roommate? And without Joe around, maybe some of the sexcapades would slow down. I thought about Trevor and Darla for a second.

No, they wouldn’t slow down but at least it wouldn’t be quite as crowded.

“Let me think about it,” I said.

We paused again. He put his hands on his hips. “It would make it so much easier for me to leave if you would just take over. Seriously.”

“I know,” I said. I was starting to feel a sense of anger and irritation rise up in me. Maybe I hadn’t gotten as much sleep as I thought. Or, maybe, I was just aggravated that I couldn’t figure out how to be stable, without a job and without money. Miracle of miracles, it just wasn’t happening.

“Dude, if this is about the money I can...you know, I can pay the first month, maybe even two months’ rent for you.”

“I’m not a charity case, Joe.”

“I know—and I’m not saying you’re a charity case. It’s just....” Those brown eyes stared into mine. I’d imagine that mine were as hard looking back as his were conflicted. “It’s just...my parents won’t give a shit.”

I thought about that for a minute. If I had six weeks or so, could I scrape together the next month’s rent? I didn’t know. I had a call out to Liam’s job tip—maybe that would pan out. Joe was staring at me expectantly.

He ran a hand through his hair. “Make it easy on me, Sam. Just take the place.”

“How much time do you need? Before you need to know, I mean?” I asked.

“Couple days.”

“A couple
days?
”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “I have to list it on Craigslist otherwise, or Trevor might find somebody.”

“All right. Give me a couple days.”

Amy

No doubt about it, that was
definitely
Sam and Joe, and they were somewhere behind me.

I felt like an animal trapped—what could I do? If I turned around, they’d hear me. If I moved, they’d see me. I could tell they were close based on the sound of their voices. The sun felt particularly acute and my body warmed to a temperature that no amount of sunshine could generate. Each breath I took felt like an eternity as I overheard them.

Joe’s voice, pointed and sharp, with a tone of victory that I knew from high school. Sam’s voice was quieter, lower, more melodic and flowing. A cadence I didn’t remember came forth as he and Joe conversed. It made something inside me echo with a wondering. Would he ever talk to me like that? Something familiar and casual was in his tone, the way you talk to a best friend or an intimate confidante.

Being in the band with Trevor, and Joe, and Liam, had allowed Sam to forge a relationship with all of them in a way that I couldn’t understand. Liam I knew all
too
well and Joe I’d debated over the years. Trevor was a bit of a mystery to me—hot as hell, and confident and cocky, but we were just on a waving and a ‘hi’ kind of level.

I heard Joe mention Darla’s name and that nice, floaty buzzing feeling that I had as I heard Sam speak ended like someone snapped their fingers.
Darla.
The way she had tongue fucked Joe and Trevor on that stage and then turned to Sam...I closed my eyes, as if smashing the lids together could smash her. Who the hell was she? Some kind of band whore you pass around? That friendly affect and the whole fakey-fake Midwestern thing made my stomach turn. She’d come over to my table and been all friendly and nice and then, it turned out, she was just another hole for the band.

At least, that’s how it seemed.

“...Darla...share...” Joe said. I couldn’t catch the rest.

Share? Sam and Joe and Trevor
shared
Darla?

What?

Sam never struck me as the kind of guy who did
that
. Polyamory was big at my college among a small clique of gamers and the cosplay people. Not musicians.

Then again, four years is a long time for someone to change. I certainly wasn’t the same girl at that debate. But whatever they were saying was intense, their words hushed then loud. Dammit! If only I could get closer.

Turning my head slowly, I saw that they were behind a bush. There was no way that they could see me. My shoulders dropped and I stretched my arms out, not realizing how tense I’d been. My heart slammed in my chest as I caught a glimpse of Sam, his arms akimbo, his body loose, an old, well-worn pair of jeans hugging his hips, those long legs relaxed. They were twenty feet away from me at most, and there were enough holes in the hedge that I could catch as much of an eyeful as I wanted. His red hair was grown out in that slightly long look that so many guys had now. His eyes were narrowed and focused on Joe, who stood a few feet away, gesturing with his hands. Sam just nodded slowly and then said a few words, Joe interrupting him repeatedly.

Suddenly, Sam crossed his arms over his chest, the biceps bulging. Long tendons popped out in his forearms, those arms leading to hands that tapped out so many rhythms.

I was a goner, wasn’t I? I stood and picked up my thermos and walked closer, still hidden by the shrubbery. Phrases like ‘can you take over for me?’ and ‘Darla’ made my blood run cold. Were they really talking about
swapping
this woman? What exactly
was
his relationship with her? What were
all
of their relationships with her? Some sort of kinky three-men-one-woman thing? Was that even possible? This was making my head hurt.

A plume of jealousy poured up inside me from my knees, up through my pelvis, and into my throat. What kind of woman gets three men interested in her at the same time? The thought made me blush with rage. And arousal.

Anger drained out as my eyes remained riveted on the two of them and I let myself explore that idea—just for a moment—because, why not? Ideas aren’t inherently bad. There’s nothing wrong with letting yourself
imagine
something new that you could do, even if you never, in a million years, thought that you’d actually
act
on it.

What would it be like to have Liam, and Joe,
and
Sam, all at once, touching me? Hands on my lips, other hands on my breasts, and other hands going lower, finding a very eager red nub. Six hands.

And one
me
.

Sam

Joe’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He reached in, took a look, and said, “Oh, shit. I have to go—it’s my mom.”

“Dance, monkey boy, dance.”

“Shut. Up.” He looked me square in the eye and shook his head slowly. “Sam, you know for years I really felt sorry for you.”

I pulled my head back. “What?”

“You and all the shit that went down with your dad our senior year.”

A cold flush poured over me and I frowned. “Yeah, so?” Where was this coming from? I didn’t need pity.

“It’s just with this,” he held up the phone, “and my mom practically pulling on the diaper strings, sometimes I wish I had the guts that you have, man.”

“Guts?” I asked. Guts?
It didn’t take guts to tell my dad off and walk away and figure all this out on my own
, I thought. I didn’t really have a choice. It was that, or watch my soul die. Joe was looking at me like he expected me to say something.

“Joe, at least you have a mom who gives a shit.”

“Your mom gives a shit.”

“I know. She’s just...she’s just too weak to leave him.” Guys don’t talk like this, so there was something really awkward and weird about the fact that Joe was having this
after school special
moment with me.

“I’m too much of a pussy, aren’t I?” he said. Back to Guy Talk. “You’re a total pussy, Ross.”

“Hey, I owned up to it. You don’t need to dig it in.” He rolled his tongue inside his cheek and punched me in the shoulder.

“You weren’t a pussy, though, to go out to Ohio and rescue Trevor.”

“I didn’t rescue Trevor—Darla rescued us both.”

“And now you’re leaving her?”

He blew out a
looooong
puff of air. “I’m leaving everything, aren’t I?” he said, starting to walk slowly toward the apartment.

“Yeah, you are. But that takes guts.”

He laughed. “It doesn’t take guts to pick the seventh best law school in the country over BC. In fact, it’s kind of the easy way out.”

“What do you mean ‘the easy way’?”

“It’s programmed in me, man. This is what I have to do. Climb, climb, climb. Scrape, scrape, scrape. Get to the top. Ditch Trevor and Darla.” His voice took on a hard tone.

“You’re not ditching them, though, You’re moving seven hours away.” He started to walk a little faster, his head down. I found myself following, even though I was heading the other way. “You’re not really breaking up with them, are you?”

“Breaking up?” He came to a dead halt, his voice cracking. “Breaking up? You make it sound like we’re in some kind of a....”

“You
are
in some kind of a...” I stumbled. “What the hell do you call that
thing
that the three of you are doing?”

He leered at me. “Really incredible sex.”

“OK, you can call it that.”

“No,” he stopped and put a hand on my shoulder, and dipped his head down, his eyes boring into mine. “It’s
really
incredible sex.”

“Yeah, I know, Joe. I hear it. I’m on the couch, remember? And, by the way, you guys are out of whipped cream.”

“We’re out of condoms, too,” he said, absentmindedly, starting to walk at a faster pace toward the apartment.

“You’re going to give all this up for Penn,” I said dryly.

“I’m going give all this up for Penn,” he confirmed. “But I’m not breaking up with them. Ah, geez,” he cringed. “Breaking up with Trevor...that just sounds so...fucked up.”

“The whole situation is kind of bizarre,.”

“Yeah, I know,” he admitted. “But it’s the first thing that’s felt
real
, too,” he confessed. “What feels real to you Sam?”

Amy.
Her name flashed through my head.

Joe stopped and said, “I gotta run, man. See you later.” He took off like a shot, abruptly ending whatever conversation we just started to actually have. Shit got real when you talked about what was deep inside you. Another person could help you find things, beliefs that were buried so far inside you didn’t even know they were there, things that you could never discover on your own, like trying to tie your shoes with just one hand—you could do it, but it was a hell of a lot easier with two.