Fast Eddies
This is NOT fanfiction, but it is m/m.
If you liked my writing then have a read.
Title Fast Eddies
Rating Mature
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty Three
Joe leans back in the passenger seat, arm on the cill of the rolled down window, jet hair tousled and blowing about his face as he looks at the passing scenery. It's too hot, the closer we've gotten to my parents house the more humid and terrible it's become. I'm fed up of driving, but I don't want to stress Joe out by asking him to take over, not when we've already come across the most retarded drivers in the state, all on the same stretch of road. I don't want him to be in a bad mood by time we reach my parents house.
'So what do you think?' I venture, scooting my eyes to Joe.
I can't help but feel nervous, I'd forgotten how different this place is to New York and his time it's like I'm seeing it through his virgin eyes. He must be thinking so much and I have no clue, even as he turns to me, eyes hidden by his mirrored shades, only reflecting my own worries. I wish he weren't wearing them, the longer we've been together the more I've learned how good he is at facially hiding emotion, but not in his eyes, never in his eyes; not if you know what to look for.
'I'm thinking it's one hell of a place,' he answers coyly, tone so flat I can get nothing from it. I hate that he's being this way with me, that statement could mean fucking anything.
'Yeah, it's crazy. Too crazy for me,' I laugh, although it's hollow. I'm forced to turn my eyes from him to stop from ramming the car in front, and when I look back he's reverted to looking out of the window, and I know the eyes behind his shades are drinking every aspect in.
It feels like I can't breathe. Fuck, I shouldn't have brought him here, he's going to see through everything to the background I've been trying to deny from the start. He won't want to move in with me after this, when we get back he'll make some excuse and move in with Brandan. I force myself to take a deep breath, stopping myself short of having a panic attack and making a fool out of myself. We're not even at the house yet, although the minute I drive up to it he's going to realise we're too different, as his uncle's so keen to keep telling him. This was headed for disaster the moment I issued the invitation.
'So it's not far now,' I say, trying to keep up conversation when all I want to do is stew in my own thoughts. To let the silence grow would widen the gap between us and give him too much time to think everything through, to reach conclusions I really don't want him to make without an explanation from me.
He doesn't even make a noise to communicate he's heard me. Maybe I should just admit defeat. I'm tired of hearing my own voice, of forcing conversation I just don't feel up to. He'll be able to tell it's false, that I'm awkward about the whole thing. I'm just going to shut up, I don't want him to know how nervous I am, if I pretend like this isn't a big deal then maybe some of that attitude will rub off on him.
I let my own eyes roam the once familiar surroundings, ones which still evoke memories as if it weren't years since I lived here. The closer we get to the beach the less the passers-by are wearing, showing off their perfectly sculptured bodies. I hate how this place can make me feel so small and unsure. It's all visual here, the designer clothes, the perfectly styled hair and the shows of physical perfection. It's a fucking meat market, a sea of bronzed, toned skin covered by either the bare minimum, or the minimum of what is fashionable. I always felt out of place growing up here, with the body I know to be good, but not perfect. When I'm in New York I'm happy with what I see reflected back at me in the mirror, here it's all I can do to actually look in it. There's just so much pressure, to replicate what is held up as an example by any means possible; sucking, cutting or starving off what they can't tone but should actually have, what is normal and healthy. Even my mother hasn't remained untouched by this place, having been under the knife twice, that I know of, but I couldn't say for sure that's all. She says it's to keep my father interested, and who am I to deny that with his record of women, but I have a hunch its more to keep up with her girlfriends, all the other women who have made themselves glamorous with age.
I forgot just how much I hate it here. A thought hits me, and it forms a cold spot in my stomach. Is he looking out thinking that this is me, that because I come from here I've taken it into myself and live this lifestyle as standard? Does he think that this is what I'm like when I'm not around him? I want to tell him that this isn't true, that it isn't who I am and even go so far as opening my mouth and drawing a breath, but I choke it back. I'll sound like a fucking lunatic if I say it, he'll have no idea where anything I say has come from, being worked out in my paranoid mind this way. It's my train of though only, not anything he's indicated. It can't be, he's barely spoken a word to me since we touched down. But God how I wish I knew what he was thinking. I can only hope it's nothing like what I'm convincing myself he is. I don't think it would be, he's not judgemental, at least I've not known him to be with me, not after our second meeting. I need to get my head straight, going into that house with a brain full of insecurities will benefit neither of us, I need to be at the top of my game, and ready to fight the boyfriend corner I've left dormant for so long. My father needs to get over it, even though I don't know if it will be worth it when we get there.
Turning off the main road I start on my way to the more exclusive part of town, the part where my parents and their acquaintances live. I've always known the same house, he inherited the house and the business when his father died, he had only been in his mid twenties, but his father had been in his late sixties, my dad being born to his younger second wife, the same as me. I can't say I don't admire my father from building the business up from a thriving American business to the international corporation it is today. He worked hard for what he's achieved, but I don't want to just take it over and not have to work it up. I'd rather I were in my fathers shoes than my own. I think of the house now, feeling an attachment to it more than I'd care to admit. That building was the one constant in my life, the people in it always changing; hopefully I wont have to feel like this for much longer and the man at my side will become the constant I've always wanted so desperately.
My palms start to itch with sweat as they grip the steering wheel, all fondness replaced with worry. My mind is screaming out at me not to take the final few turns, to not let him see the house I had been thinking of so fondly only moments before. If I'm right in thinking that the beach was too much for him to take in, then it's only going to get a million times worse when he sees the house. Maybe I should have told him something, hinted at what my family actually does have. I could have softened the blow instead of dropping him in at the deep end without a single warning he could use to float on. I'm going to throw up, so nervous and anxious at the thought of losing him, or him thinking I've lied to him when I haven't. If he'd have straight out asked I would have told him everything, but he's never pried, never once asked about my future finances. But that says more about the situation than if he had, the prospect of money puts such a barrier between us, our backgrounds the greatest division and seldom spoken about, hell I'm sure I do everything to make sure the topic of conversation remains stagnant. But there is nothing to hide behind now, once I turn this corner we are on the street of the house, and when I pull up outside my future will be laid straight for him to see. Fuck I just want to turn and run, but I have to know if we can work. I need to know if this is more of an issue for me than it is him, and I hope to all deities that it is.
Passing security I see Joe sit up straighter, back stiff as he looks out at his surroundings. That can't be a good sign. Looking around myself I take in where I've called home the majority of my life. To me it seems usual, but I can see how everything will look different in his eyes. The houses are exclusive pads with price tags in their millions, sun soaked and close to the sea. It must be like nothing he's ever seen before, at lease not off a TV screen. I actually have to force myself to pull into the driveway, closing my eyes in horror as I hit the break.
This is it.
I don't have to open my eyes to see the great sprawling white building spread immaculately out in front of us, my fathers newest motor purchase sunning on the drive. Hesitantly I open them and find I'm right, the car one I've not seen before, one I can't name, but one Joe will probably be able to in a split second. There are more cars than I'd wanted there to be right now, indicating family I wished to avoid meeting for as long as possible. I only hope my step brother isn't here, I hate him and he will do everything in his power to make me and Joe feel as uncomfortable as possible and look like idiots. I don't care who else is here so long as he's not. I can even deal with my uncle, who being my father's brother, is of the same upbringing and will behave exactly the same in not acknowledging my relationship. Hopefully I'll be able to get my cousin on our side, someone else to fight our corner along with the women Joe should effortlessly charm. I shake my head, I've not even opened the car door yet and I've formed fucking battle lines. Why do I always have to do this, going home after graduation should be a joyous occasion, not a case of all out war. I hate that I don't have what I consider to be a normal home life, a mom who bakes cookies, a dad who's proud that his son's graduated university. I'll never have that though, that's just not who they are, and it will always leave me feeling anxious and worried, even moreso this time when I've got so much on the line and their reactions mean so much. Everything rests on these few days; my relationship with Joe, my future, my happiness. Usually all they can do it make me miserable, this time there's someone else to consider, someone who's opinion matters to me so very much.
'So, we're here,' I say obviously, full of fake cheer as I unlatch the seatbelt. I feel like I'm about to have a heart attack.
'You live here?' He finally asks, the statement slow as his eyes sweep lingeringly over the front of the house and garden. I'm only happy it looks smaller from this angle than it actually is, although I'm sure to him it's still impressive.
'No, I don't live here. I live with Mike and Jason,' I correct defensively, hopefully making myself understood that I've distanced myself from, and have no claim, on this property.
Joe doesn't reply to this, simply pushes his shades a fraction higher up his nose, making sure his eyes are completely obscured. He doesn't want me to know what he's thinking, and that can't be a good thing. Unable to fake any more enthusiasm I slip out of the car, nearly slamming the door shut but stopping myself just in time. I don't want him to think I'm angry at him, I'm not, more at myself for putting us in this situation. I can't let him know how much this is getting to me, one of us has to at least pretend this will be a positive experience. Joe however doesn't get out, simply sits there, seatbelt firmly buckled, hands in his lap as he looks up at the building in all of its brilliant glory, windows gleaming and spotlessly clean reflecting the clear sunlight. Now this is something I've not seen before, I've never known him to delay doing anything. Walking round to his side I pull the door open, looking in at him with curiosity and confusion. He turns to face me, although I can't tell where his eyes are actually fixed.
'What's up?' I ask, completely confused, although forcing myself to smile. It's not going to be as bad as I think.
'I can't go in there,' he says simply, not sounding distressed, tone even and perfectly measured. Now his head tilts down and his hand runs down his chest, over his faded t-shirt before tugging on the rips of his jeans, 'not looking like this. I didn't know it'd be so... like this.'
I want to shoot myself. This is something I never though I'd hear leave his mouth in a million years. He's usually so strong, so personally confident.
'You...uh...' I falter, working blind in this unexpected situation, 'you want me to get your bag out of the trunk so you can change in the car?'
It's the only thing I can think of that will placate him. I don't think a reassurance of how okay he looks will work. He nods, so I grab his bag out of the trunk as he moves into the backseat. Passing the bag into him he closes the door before wriggling out of his pants. Numbed with disbelief I move back to the trunk, taking out my own bag with the airport tags flapping on it. I also take out the boxed bottles of wine I stopped off to buy and the suits in their bags which I had carefully folded there. When I get back to the door it's kicked open and his zipped up bag is thrown out at me feet. He slouches out, dressed in a pair of jeans I've not seen before, tighter and more fitted than usual, but obviously only a newer, unworn pair of his usual ones. It's strange seeing him like this, and I can't say it's an improvement. I wish he felt he could be himself here, but then again its my family and I can't even feel at ease, how can I expect him to when he's meeting them for the first time and everything is so different to what he's used to?
'Better?' I ask with a slow smile, not wanting to seem patronising, but unable to help myself from sounding perturbed.
His lips tighten, indicating that he's scowling at me. I wish I could see his eyes, then I'd know whether or not it was in jest.
'Look Joe, I didn't mean it like that,' I sigh, leaning forward, taking hold of his forearm lightly, squeezing it to let him know I'm sincere.
'I know,' he concedes, tenseness in his shoulders lessening as he reaches up, pulling his shades off. My heart melts as he looks at me, the green so soft, gone the hope of yesterday, replaced with the insecurity of the moment. I can't let him feel like this.
Taking a quick look around I deem us alone before pulling him into my arms, holding him tight, head tilted against his neck as I breathe deep the scent of him.
'I'm so sorry. I should have told you more about this, but... can we just get through this day?' I'm pleading with him, hoping he can see I'll let him say whatever he wants when we're alone after the party.
He takes a deep breath but nods, smiling against my cheek as he hold me back.
'I'll see what I can do,' he offers, leaning back a little, kissing me hard on the cheek.
My heart bursts with pride. He's so strong, so fucking wonderful I don't deserve it.
'Thank you so much,' I offer with reverence, kissing him square on the lips.
I savour every second of it, feeling him respond the way he always does, body melting to mine. When we go inside it's over, no more kisses, not more heavy contact, this is it. My father didn't request the no contact rule for the house, but he's shot me enough dark looks over the years whenever I'd touched my boyfriends in any way a normal couple would in front of their parents. I guess it links back to the incident which forced me to come out, but I'd never bring it up, both of us would be too embarrassed. I hold him tight one more moment before stepping away, smiling with all of the love I always feel aching in my chest.
'Lets get these introduction over and done with shall we?' He grins as he releases me, hand running over my back, comforting me more than a simple action should. How can I not feel better when he's smiling at me?
Joe hefts his bag from the floor and I do the same, picking up the wine as well.
'You take the suits,' I instruct, and he picks the bags up with a playful roll of his eyes. I know he's not looking forward to wearing the cast off from Jason, but I've admitted I'm more than a little curious to now what he looks like in a suit. I think he's going to look delicious and I don't know how I'm going to keep my hands off him.
Walking to the front door I knock and wait, Joe standing a pace behind, but next to me. It takes only a moment before the door opens, Rosa standing there, face bursting into a beaming smile as soon as she lays eyes on me. She looks older than the last time I saw her, brown skin more wrinkled, more grey in her black hair and more wisdom in her bright brown eyes. I want to hug the short woman to me, the only motherly embrace which has been constant in my life. I don't though, always having to keep the working boundaries when I know my father is around, especially now I'm an adult.
'Ben!' She greets excitedly before turning, 'I'll just go let your parents know you've arrived.'
She hurries from the reception room and I let Joe step up to my side before closing the door behind us. I put my bag and wine down at my feet before wiping the nervous sweat off my palms onto my jeans. I look to Joe, find his eyes up as he looks at the height of the ceiling, his mouth is slightly open and now the shades are gone I see his eyes are wide. I take a breath to talk, but any thought of conversation is cut short as my mother breezes through the marble floored area, smiling as she takes my hands.
'Ben,' she grins, leaning in and kissing each of my cheeks in turn. My family isn't big on hugging, has never been. We're reserved, and that's why meeting Joe's friends had been such a shock, just as this must be to him now with our reluctance to embrace.
'Hi mom, it's good to see you. You're looking well.'
She does, better than the last time I saw her after my fathers heart attack, and sober.
'You too, how was graduation?' She asks, releasing my hands and taking a step back.
'It was fine,' I answer, the event having been nothing special. Satisfied by this answer she eagerly turns her attention to Joe, obviously having looked forward to meeting him.
'You must be Joe,' she greets with enthusiasm, 'I've heard so much about you.'
It's a nice pleasantry, but it's also a lie. I've told her very little about Joe, she had even been surprised when I'd called asking to bring him. I guess she assumed we were not longer dating after our conversation at the restaurant.
'Nice to meet you too Mrs. Haner,' he offers back, smiling, being as naturally charming as ever. It's a lovely charm, nothing like the sexual glint Jason has in his smile, this is only flattering. I'm glad, I want my mother to fall in love with him, and I can't see a reason why she wouldn't.
'Please... call me Kathryn. It had been a nice surprise when Ben called to say you'd be coming, it's good to know he's feeling more settled away from home,' mom continues, still holding his hand, using this as a point of contact to keep his attention the way she has always done with any of her clients. My mom is a good solicitor, one of note in her own right and her professional life shows in her private. Yet she is obviously taken by him, not having always given my boyfriends permission to address her so informally.
'Ben!' comes my fathers booming voice, taking over the room with its presence, always one to let people know he's there, and that he's in charge of all proceedings.
'Dad,' I greet, turning, accepting the handshake he always offers. This is the only show of physical affection I've had from him and will ever get.
'How was the flight?' He asks now, releasing my hands, keeping the usual distance between us almost like it's regulated.
'Wasn't too bad, it was the drive which was terrible. It's one hell of a hot day.'
My father nods in agreement, eyes fixed on me, not straying to Joe who is still in conversation with my mother. He's doing everything in his power to keep his eyes from him, that much is for sure. I know he doesn't want to acknowledge him, and he must have been pissed as hell that I wanted him to come.
'Yeah, it's stifling. Thought we'd spend the day on the yacht. Everyone's outside ready to go, we were just waiting for you to arrive,' he smiles, although it is soon lost off his face as my mother brings Joe over, gripping him by the wrist, her own smile tight. She knows this isn't going to run smoothly, it never has when my father is reminded of my sexuality. 'You must be Ben's friend,' my father offers cooly, eyes set as he runs them over Joe, lingering on his tattooed arms, not giving anything away in his face but not offering a handshake, a sure sign of dismissal. He is quick to look away.
'Joe Esposito,' Joe introduces, holding his hand out boldly, all of his usual pride in his stance, straight and fearless. I should have known he'd be able to handle this. 'Nice to meet you Mr. Landon.'
My dad can't avoid the handshake without offending both me, Joe and his own hosting sensibilities, so he takes his hand briefly, not raising his eyes to Joe, although Joe's eyes rest easily on him.
'You two should go freshen up before we join the others,' my mother suggests, 'you'll probably want to change for the yacht.'
I want to kiss her again, this opportunity something I'll be eternally grateful for.
'Yeah, I could do with getting out of this shirt... you out on the terrace?'
'Yes,' she smiles, taking my father by the arm, starting to lead him away, 'Rosa will show you to the room.'
As soon as they're out of sight I take a deep breath, bending down and picking up the bag again. Joe copies my actions and I move forward, placing the wine on a table to pick up on the way back.
'This way boys,' Rosa grins, her Mexican spiced accent something I've missed so deeply and I hadn't even realised. She takes the suits from Joe without a word, folding them over her arm before leading us up the stairs. 'I've put you in your old room, although it's been redecorated as a guest bedroom.'
How did I not know this? Has it really been nearly three years since I've come back to this place? I realise it has, my reluctance to be swallowed up by my fathers plans meaning I'd kept myself immersed in my new life, in the friends I've made and used their families at holidays as a replacement for my own. No wonder my mother rings me telling me she misses me so much. I shouldn't have stayed in a hotel last time, what kind of horrible person am I? In reality I'm just as fucking selfish as them, but then again, they're the only role models I have.
Up the sweeping staircase we turn to the right, following the small plump body. Slipping my gaze sideways I sneak a glance at Joe, find his eyes getting wider and wider as we get deeper into the house, closer to the room I used to call home. She pushes the door open and I see instantly that she's opened the panelled windows, thoughtfully airing the room for us. I drop the bag and act on the information that the others are outside by pulling her into a hug. She feels just as I remember, all of the safety of the embrace rushing over me, reminding me of my youth. She hugs me back, obviously surprised at my actions, but not enough to pull away. I'd grown reserved in the image of my father, but now Joe has changed me, made me appreciate love and not be ashamed to show it.
Letting go of the small woman I find her radiant, a beaming smile on her face like I remember when I was a child and she took me to the park. There is love in that look, more love than I remember seeing in my mother.
'If your father saw you...' she chides, although obviously not meaning it.
'He's outside,' I dismiss with a roll of the eyes, ' and what he can't see can't hurt him.'
'Well, I have to go see to their drinks,' she tells me reluctantly, I can almost see the tug on her emotions which makes her want to stay and talk to me. She looks to Joe now, eyes soft and genuine. 'It's nice meeting you.'
She scurries off, leaving us alone and closing the door behind her. Joe places his bag on the side of the bed he usually sleeps on. His back is to me, and he stands perfectly still, barely a rise of his shoulders as he breathes. I walk over, running a hand over his shoulder. He leans into the touch, a positive indicator of how he's feeling, if he was too stressed out by the situation he'd pull away and put the distance between us he usually does.
'You okay?' I ask, glad of this time to speak to him alone, to address the situation and get things sorted before he meets the rest of my family, because it's only going to get worse.
He doesn't speak straight away, just continues to look ahead of him, at the painting on the wall I don't recognise, but don't like, some modern splatter of paint on a canvass which could have been done by a three year old.
'I think I am,' he answers finally, not turning and not moving, 'I don't know, it's just this place...'
Again I feel ashamed, upset that I've caused him pain through my own stupidity.
'I should have said something, I'm sorry,' I apologise, squeezing his shoulder, 'I just didn't think. I'm an idiot.' I see him nod, choppy cut hair rippling like ravens wings. I lean forward, kissing the hair which is beautifully soft against my lips. 'I'm going to get changed.' I tell him, moving away, 'it's too hot and these are sticking to me.'
Unzipping the bag I pull out a pair of baggy shorts, already tasting the sea breeze at the thought of being on the yacht. Changing into these I see that Joe is also changing again, this time into a pair of cammo shorts which show off the tattoo's on his calves. A studded belt is already threaded through the loops and he fastens the buckle. To my eye he looks delicious, and right now I know that's all that matters. I just want him to feel comfortable, don't want him to think my family is judging him for the way he dresses although I know they probably are. I love it, and the minute he starts wearing pants and a shirt I'll know something is wrong. Still I wish we'd not come, I shouldn't have subjected him to this.
'You been on a boat before?' I ask as I pull a fresh t-shirt over my head, old one discarded on top of my open bag.
'No, and I can't say I'm looking forward to the experience,' he says, finally turning, brushing a hand down his fairly fitted t-shirt which skims his belt.
'It'll be fine, you wont get seasick, we wont be under sail, it's too calm a day,' I placate, smiling over at him, trying to get him to loosen up, even though I'm only hiding how uptight I am.
'It's not throwing up I'm worried about,' he smirks, looking positive despite the challenges I've placed in his way, 'I can't swim.'
'Didn't you ever go with school?' I ask, knowing mine had their own swimming pool, but doubting his did.
'God yeah, once, but me and Frank bailed out every time they tried to take us,' he tells me, and I don't doubt it. From what I've heard him and Frank used to ditch most days.
'Then I'll just have to make sure you don't drown if you end up in the water,' I smile, walking to stand in front of him. He rolls his eyes and I run my hand over his shoulders, then down his arms until I'm gripping his hands. 'Look, it'll be okay, I'll make sure of it.'
He nods to this, but avoids eye contact by leaning forward, his forehead on my shoulder. I let go of his hands, pulling him to me, holding him tight. I get why he's nervous and I only wish I'd done more to prepare him for this.
'We should go down,' I tell him, not wanting to break the silence, but knowing we have to go down at some point. I'd quite happily stand and hug him forever, but I can't, not when they're waiting for us.
Walking through the house his attention is everywhere but on me, eyes all over everything. He's inquisitive, I know he is, but this is more, this is him drinking in everything we've not talked about. Each single piece of furniture is another incriminating piece of evidence, everything picked out and overpriced by an interior designer. When we reach the reception area I pause only to pick up the wine, offering him a weak smile as I catch his eyes momentarily. He doesn't smile back, and drops his gaze quickly. I hate not having his approval. Continuing through the entertainment area and breakfast room I reach the immaculate French windows which are flung open, laughter filtering from the terrace outside. I hear my step brother... fuck I didn't want him to be here yet. Why is fate trying to kill me?
Passing through these into the sunshine I pluck the shades from my shirtfront and push them on. Stopping still a moment I take in the view, the steps down to the pool and the glittering ocean at the bottom of the lawn, behind the tennis court. I really have been privileged, I know this isn't what most people have. Joe is at my side and I start walking before he has a good chance to take everything in. Turning to the terrace I find the table beneath the shade of a rustic looking shelter, the table it houses filled with people I haven't seen for too long.
'Ben!' Pip greets, getting up from the table and eagerly running to hug me. I'm glad we've kept in touch. I wish she'd been my blood sister so she wouldn't have been taken from my life. I know she wishes it were the same, she wanted to ditch her actual asshole brother during the divorce.
'Pip it's good to see you,' I grin, hugging her tighter than I ever have, her small, delicate body dwarfed in my arms.
She takes after her mother, both slim, blonde women, although Pip doesn't look as breakable as her mother, who is fluttery and quiet. Unfortunately Rich doesn't take after his mother, he's rude, obnoxious and I don't know why the fuck he's been invited. My father knows I hate him, and that he harbours no affection for me. There must be some ulterior motive, dad doesn't like him too much either, all he admires is his Harvard business degree. I know my dad wishes that was me, but he can shove it, I didn't do it and I'll never do it. I wonder if anyone else has ever turned down such a prestigious university.
'It's been a long time since we've seen you,' my aunt follows with, not getting up from the seat, her youngest child in her lap. She's such a vibrant person, obviously connected to this family through marriage. It's the keen blue eyes which give it away more than anything, all of the Landon's having dark brown. 'God you've grown into such a handsome young man.'
I blush, but manage to offer her a compliment back. She's always been nice to me 'You're looking well yourself.'
Her eyes move and fix on Joe, and there's nothing but warmth in them. 'You must be Joe, nice to meet you, I'm Ben's aunt Belle,' and I can tell she is putting him at ease, reminding him more of the people he knows despite her southern accent and expensive clothes.
'Pleasure to meet you,' Joe offers, making her beam at him before continuing her introductions, ones which my father isn't going to offer to him.
'Well, welcome. That's my husband Pete, and that slouched in the chair sulking is my son Brett. This little madam is Haylie,' she moves her head down, closer to her daughters ear, who looks out at me with even blue eyes. 'That's your cousin Ben, he's not seen you since you were one, why don't you go give him a hug?'
Haylie looks at me, then up at her mother for reassurance, which she gives in form of a smile. She then slips off her mothers lap and makes her way to me. She must be four now, and she's grown considerably since the last time I saw here, her brown hair thin around her face, a pink bow clipped into the side, matching the floral print of her short dress, for some reason she's only wearing socks, her shoes on the table. She stands at my feet, looking up at me with wide eyes, and I see the encouragement of her mother has worn off, leaving her staring at someone she doesn't recognise. Instantly I feel awkward, not knowing how to react. I've had no experience dealing with children, and they just make me worried that I'll do something wrong and make them cry. With me offering nothing her attention quickly switches to Joe, a mix of concern and curiosity on her face. I guess he does look different to the people she's grown up around. Joe doesn't miss a beat, dropping down to his knees to be more on her level.
'Hey, I'm Joe, nice to meet you Haylie.' He smiles at her softly, holding out his hand, and with a look of wonder she slips hers into his, which he holds lightly.
Joe looks to me now from this position, a smirk on his lips.
'I don't think Ben knows how to treat such grown up young ladies.'
She giggles at this, still gripping his hand.
'I'm four,' she announces, indicating the number by holding her other hand up, fingers splayed, thumb bent down. 'How old are you?'
'I'm twenty one, old I know, but Ben's even older,' he leans forward a little, tone playfully conspiratorial as they both look up at me, 'he's twenty two.'
She laughs again, and I can see only openness on her face, towards us both. He's such a genius, not only has he thawed her wariness to me, but he's also brought himself to the attention of the women, shown them that he's gentler than he looks. I've always been useless with kids, they all know that, but Joe has had experience dealing with Frank's sisters' broods and I'm sure could win over any child he wanted.
'Your voice is funny,' she tells Joe simply, her other hand in his now as he laughs.
Belle laughs as well, getting up and picking her daughter up, bringing her back to the seat, letting Joe stand up.
'He comes from New York,' Belle tells her, 'remember the place with the big lady statue we walked up.'
Haylie nods, and I have to say surrounded by my Californian family Joe's accent is stronger than I'd thought. I can even hear some inflections in my own speech which I've picked up over the three years there, something which I'd completely overlooked.
'It's a home town affliction, what can I say?' Joe offers, eyes bright with amusement as he gets up off his knees. They have to be falling in love with him, because I know right now in this moment I'm doing it all over again.
Emily smiles at me, and I walk over, kissing her on the cheek, aware that my mother is watching every movement. She resents this woman for getting to spend time with me as a child, and that it was her affair with my father which split their marriage in the first place.
'Good to see you Emily.'
'You too,' she offers back breathily and I step back, nodding curtly at Rich, the only form of greeting I'll ever give him. I'll never forget the way he tormented me and Pip as children, and I'll never forgive him for making her life hell after they left.
'Sit up straight,' Pete barks at Brett, who simply scowls at his father, not even pretending to move.
'What's up Brett?' I ask my cousin, who's changed a hell of a lot since the last time I saw him, although I guess you do a lot of growing between thirteen and sixteen.
'These assholes won't let me have a beer,' he replies sullenly, looking every inch the rebellious teenager; lank, shaggy brown hair framing a face recovering from a bout of acne. His clothes are ill fitting, speaking of a lazy, skater style.
'Watch your language,' Pete complains, shaking his head at his son.
'It's not tangible, I can't watch it, sorry,' Brett replies with attitude.
I stifle a laugh, unable to stop it from bursting through my lips. Brett looks up at me with an encouraged glint in his eye. Maybe I shouldn't encourage him, but hell, he's got more spirit to him than I did at that age, and independent thinking is never a bad thing.
'He's sixteen isn't he?' I ask, looking to Belle for an answer. She nods. 'Well that's old enough to have a beer with your parents surely?'
'When he decides to grow up and not drop out of highschool then he'll be grown up enough to have a beer,' my uncle cuts in with, the same disparaging, authoritative tone as my father uses when talking down to me. Brett just rolls his eyes, muttering something beneath his breath, something I'm sure he wouldn't want his father to actually hear.
'Well, the introductions over I think we should make our way to the boat,' my father suggests, although it is more of an order, 'it's too much of a nice day to stay on land.'
I nod in agreement, eager to get to the water. As much as I love my life in New York, I can't say I don't miss the clear ocean and perfect beaches of home. It's the only thing I'd change about my current situation, and it's an aspect I've learned to live without.
The family start to move and I take a step back, bringing myself closer to Joe to reassure him, and myself. If we're going to get through this day then we have to remain strong, and united. They're going to start trying to pick him apart, for one reason or another. My father leads the way towards the private marina, his brother close behind, Rich at their heels, forcing himself into their conversation. Brett slouches up to my side, only a little shorter than me now, the same height as Joe. God, he really has grown, I remember him being a good head or two shorter.
'Thanks for trying to get me a beer,' he offers, although doesn't smile, 'my dad won't back down though, he's a stubborn fuck.'
'Why wouldn't I? I know how it feels to have a stubborn father,' I reply with a smile, glad that he can talk to me so easily after all this time. I thought it might be awkward, especially now with the age gap spanning teens and twenties. 'You really thinking of dropping out?'
He smirks now, devilment gleaming his dark brown eyes as he flicks hair out of his face.
'A little, but it's more just to wind him up so when I do decide to finish highschool he'll be so happy he won't give a shit about me not going to college.'
Smart little bastard. Maybe that's something I should have thought of when I was in the same situation as him, although I guess my father thought my 'experimentation with my sexuality' was acting out enough. Brett's sly and smart, and I envy his forethought instantly. If I had played it out that way I wouldn't have spent so many years arguing with my father, years where we pushed each other so far away there's no chance of either of us ever bridging the gap. He's too disappointed by me, and I'm too angry and wary to trust him not to try and run my life. Brett keeps in step and I move a little closer to Joe, but don't touch him. Brett however reaches his hand across my body.
'I'm Brett, you're Ben's new guy I take it.'
'Joe, yeah,' Joe replies, shaking my cousins hand over my waist.
'Welcome to fucking hell dude.'
And it will be.
If you liked my writing then have a read.
Title Fast Eddies
Rating Mature
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty Three
Joe leans back in the passenger seat, arm on the cill of the rolled down window, jet hair tousled and blowing about his face as he looks at the passing scenery. It's too hot, the closer we've gotten to my parents house the more humid and terrible it's become. I'm fed up of driving, but I don't want to stress Joe out by asking him to take over, not when we've already come across the most retarded drivers in the state, all on the same stretch of road. I don't want him to be in a bad mood by time we reach my parents house.
'So what do you think?' I venture, scooting my eyes to Joe.
I can't help but feel nervous, I'd forgotten how different this place is to New York and his time it's like I'm seeing it through his virgin eyes. He must be thinking so much and I have no clue, even as he turns to me, eyes hidden by his mirrored shades, only reflecting my own worries. I wish he weren't wearing them, the longer we've been together the more I've learned how good he is at facially hiding emotion, but not in his eyes, never in his eyes; not if you know what to look for.
'I'm thinking it's one hell of a place,' he answers coyly, tone so flat I can get nothing from it. I hate that he's being this way with me, that statement could mean fucking anything.
'Yeah, it's crazy. Too crazy for me,' I laugh, although it's hollow. I'm forced to turn my eyes from him to stop from ramming the car in front, and when I look back he's reverted to looking out of the window, and I know the eyes behind his shades are drinking every aspect in.
It feels like I can't breathe. Fuck, I shouldn't have brought him here, he's going to see through everything to the background I've been trying to deny from the start. He won't want to move in with me after this, when we get back he'll make some excuse and move in with Brandan. I force myself to take a deep breath, stopping myself short of having a panic attack and making a fool out of myself. We're not even at the house yet, although the minute I drive up to it he's going to realise we're too different, as his uncle's so keen to keep telling him. This was headed for disaster the moment I issued the invitation.
'So it's not far now,' I say, trying to keep up conversation when all I want to do is stew in my own thoughts. To let the silence grow would widen the gap between us and give him too much time to think everything through, to reach conclusions I really don't want him to make without an explanation from me.
He doesn't even make a noise to communicate he's heard me. Maybe I should just admit defeat. I'm tired of hearing my own voice, of forcing conversation I just don't feel up to. He'll be able to tell it's false, that I'm awkward about the whole thing. I'm just going to shut up, I don't want him to know how nervous I am, if I pretend like this isn't a big deal then maybe some of that attitude will rub off on him.
I let my own eyes roam the once familiar surroundings, ones which still evoke memories as if it weren't years since I lived here. The closer we get to the beach the less the passers-by are wearing, showing off their perfectly sculptured bodies. I hate how this place can make me feel so small and unsure. It's all visual here, the designer clothes, the perfectly styled hair and the shows of physical perfection. It's a fucking meat market, a sea of bronzed, toned skin covered by either the bare minimum, or the minimum of what is fashionable. I always felt out of place growing up here, with the body I know to be good, but not perfect. When I'm in New York I'm happy with what I see reflected back at me in the mirror, here it's all I can do to actually look in it. There's just so much pressure, to replicate what is held up as an example by any means possible; sucking, cutting or starving off what they can't tone but should actually have, what is normal and healthy. Even my mother hasn't remained untouched by this place, having been under the knife twice, that I know of, but I couldn't say for sure that's all. She says it's to keep my father interested, and who am I to deny that with his record of women, but I have a hunch its more to keep up with her girlfriends, all the other women who have made themselves glamorous with age.
I forgot just how much I hate it here. A thought hits me, and it forms a cold spot in my stomach. Is he looking out thinking that this is me, that because I come from here I've taken it into myself and live this lifestyle as standard? Does he think that this is what I'm like when I'm not around him? I want to tell him that this isn't true, that it isn't who I am and even go so far as opening my mouth and drawing a breath, but I choke it back. I'll sound like a fucking lunatic if I say it, he'll have no idea where anything I say has come from, being worked out in my paranoid mind this way. It's my train of though only, not anything he's indicated. It can't be, he's barely spoken a word to me since we touched down. But God how I wish I knew what he was thinking. I can only hope it's nothing like what I'm convincing myself he is. I don't think it would be, he's not judgemental, at least I've not known him to be with me, not after our second meeting. I need to get my head straight, going into that house with a brain full of insecurities will benefit neither of us, I need to be at the top of my game, and ready to fight the boyfriend corner I've left dormant for so long. My father needs to get over it, even though I don't know if it will be worth it when we get there.
Turning off the main road I start on my way to the more exclusive part of town, the part where my parents and their acquaintances live. I've always known the same house, he inherited the house and the business when his father died, he had only been in his mid twenties, but his father had been in his late sixties, my dad being born to his younger second wife, the same as me. I can't say I don't admire my father from building the business up from a thriving American business to the international corporation it is today. He worked hard for what he's achieved, but I don't want to just take it over and not have to work it up. I'd rather I were in my fathers shoes than my own. I think of the house now, feeling an attachment to it more than I'd care to admit. That building was the one constant in my life, the people in it always changing; hopefully I wont have to feel like this for much longer and the man at my side will become the constant I've always wanted so desperately.
My palms start to itch with sweat as they grip the steering wheel, all fondness replaced with worry. My mind is screaming out at me not to take the final few turns, to not let him see the house I had been thinking of so fondly only moments before. If I'm right in thinking that the beach was too much for him to take in, then it's only going to get a million times worse when he sees the house. Maybe I should have told him something, hinted at what my family actually does have. I could have softened the blow instead of dropping him in at the deep end without a single warning he could use to float on. I'm going to throw up, so nervous and anxious at the thought of losing him, or him thinking I've lied to him when I haven't. If he'd have straight out asked I would have told him everything, but he's never pried, never once asked about my future finances. But that says more about the situation than if he had, the prospect of money puts such a barrier between us, our backgrounds the greatest division and seldom spoken about, hell I'm sure I do everything to make sure the topic of conversation remains stagnant. But there is nothing to hide behind now, once I turn this corner we are on the street of the house, and when I pull up outside my future will be laid straight for him to see. Fuck I just want to turn and run, but I have to know if we can work. I need to know if this is more of an issue for me than it is him, and I hope to all deities that it is.
Passing security I see Joe sit up straighter, back stiff as he looks out at his surroundings. That can't be a good sign. Looking around myself I take in where I've called home the majority of my life. To me it seems usual, but I can see how everything will look different in his eyes. The houses are exclusive pads with price tags in their millions, sun soaked and close to the sea. It must be like nothing he's ever seen before, at lease not off a TV screen. I actually have to force myself to pull into the driveway, closing my eyes in horror as I hit the break.
This is it.
I don't have to open my eyes to see the great sprawling white building spread immaculately out in front of us, my fathers newest motor purchase sunning on the drive. Hesitantly I open them and find I'm right, the car one I've not seen before, one I can't name, but one Joe will probably be able to in a split second. There are more cars than I'd wanted there to be right now, indicating family I wished to avoid meeting for as long as possible. I only hope my step brother isn't here, I hate him and he will do everything in his power to make me and Joe feel as uncomfortable as possible and look like idiots. I don't care who else is here so long as he's not. I can even deal with my uncle, who being my father's brother, is of the same upbringing and will behave exactly the same in not acknowledging my relationship. Hopefully I'll be able to get my cousin on our side, someone else to fight our corner along with the women Joe should effortlessly charm. I shake my head, I've not even opened the car door yet and I've formed fucking battle lines. Why do I always have to do this, going home after graduation should be a joyous occasion, not a case of all out war. I hate that I don't have what I consider to be a normal home life, a mom who bakes cookies, a dad who's proud that his son's graduated university. I'll never have that though, that's just not who they are, and it will always leave me feeling anxious and worried, even moreso this time when I've got so much on the line and their reactions mean so much. Everything rests on these few days; my relationship with Joe, my future, my happiness. Usually all they can do it make me miserable, this time there's someone else to consider, someone who's opinion matters to me so very much.
'So, we're here,' I say obviously, full of fake cheer as I unlatch the seatbelt. I feel like I'm about to have a heart attack.
'You live here?' He finally asks, the statement slow as his eyes sweep lingeringly over the front of the house and garden. I'm only happy it looks smaller from this angle than it actually is, although I'm sure to him it's still impressive.
'No, I don't live here. I live with Mike and Jason,' I correct defensively, hopefully making myself understood that I've distanced myself from, and have no claim, on this property.
Joe doesn't reply to this, simply pushes his shades a fraction higher up his nose, making sure his eyes are completely obscured. He doesn't want me to know what he's thinking, and that can't be a good thing. Unable to fake any more enthusiasm I slip out of the car, nearly slamming the door shut but stopping myself just in time. I don't want him to think I'm angry at him, I'm not, more at myself for putting us in this situation. I can't let him know how much this is getting to me, one of us has to at least pretend this will be a positive experience. Joe however doesn't get out, simply sits there, seatbelt firmly buckled, hands in his lap as he looks up at the building in all of its brilliant glory, windows gleaming and spotlessly clean reflecting the clear sunlight. Now this is something I've not seen before, I've never known him to delay doing anything. Walking round to his side I pull the door open, looking in at him with curiosity and confusion. He turns to face me, although I can't tell where his eyes are actually fixed.
'What's up?' I ask, completely confused, although forcing myself to smile. It's not going to be as bad as I think.
'I can't go in there,' he says simply, not sounding distressed, tone even and perfectly measured. Now his head tilts down and his hand runs down his chest, over his faded t-shirt before tugging on the rips of his jeans, 'not looking like this. I didn't know it'd be so... like this.'
I want to shoot myself. This is something I never though I'd hear leave his mouth in a million years. He's usually so strong, so personally confident.
'You...uh...' I falter, working blind in this unexpected situation, 'you want me to get your bag out of the trunk so you can change in the car?'
It's the only thing I can think of that will placate him. I don't think a reassurance of how okay he looks will work. He nods, so I grab his bag out of the trunk as he moves into the backseat. Passing the bag into him he closes the door before wriggling out of his pants. Numbed with disbelief I move back to the trunk, taking out my own bag with the airport tags flapping on it. I also take out the boxed bottles of wine I stopped off to buy and the suits in their bags which I had carefully folded there. When I get back to the door it's kicked open and his zipped up bag is thrown out at me feet. He slouches out, dressed in a pair of jeans I've not seen before, tighter and more fitted than usual, but obviously only a newer, unworn pair of his usual ones. It's strange seeing him like this, and I can't say it's an improvement. I wish he felt he could be himself here, but then again its my family and I can't even feel at ease, how can I expect him to when he's meeting them for the first time and everything is so different to what he's used to?
'Better?' I ask with a slow smile, not wanting to seem patronising, but unable to help myself from sounding perturbed.
His lips tighten, indicating that he's scowling at me. I wish I could see his eyes, then I'd know whether or not it was in jest.
'Look Joe, I didn't mean it like that,' I sigh, leaning forward, taking hold of his forearm lightly, squeezing it to let him know I'm sincere.
'I know,' he concedes, tenseness in his shoulders lessening as he reaches up, pulling his shades off. My heart melts as he looks at me, the green so soft, gone the hope of yesterday, replaced with the insecurity of the moment. I can't let him feel like this.
Taking a quick look around I deem us alone before pulling him into my arms, holding him tight, head tilted against his neck as I breathe deep the scent of him.
'I'm so sorry. I should have told you more about this, but... can we just get through this day?' I'm pleading with him, hoping he can see I'll let him say whatever he wants when we're alone after the party.
He takes a deep breath but nods, smiling against my cheek as he hold me back.
'I'll see what I can do,' he offers, leaning back a little, kissing me hard on the cheek.
My heart bursts with pride. He's so strong, so fucking wonderful I don't deserve it.
'Thank you so much,' I offer with reverence, kissing him square on the lips.
I savour every second of it, feeling him respond the way he always does, body melting to mine. When we go inside it's over, no more kisses, not more heavy contact, this is it. My father didn't request the no contact rule for the house, but he's shot me enough dark looks over the years whenever I'd touched my boyfriends in any way a normal couple would in front of their parents. I guess it links back to the incident which forced me to come out, but I'd never bring it up, both of us would be too embarrassed. I hold him tight one more moment before stepping away, smiling with all of the love I always feel aching in my chest.
'Lets get these introduction over and done with shall we?' He grins as he releases me, hand running over my back, comforting me more than a simple action should. How can I not feel better when he's smiling at me?
Joe hefts his bag from the floor and I do the same, picking up the wine as well.
'You take the suits,' I instruct, and he picks the bags up with a playful roll of his eyes. I know he's not looking forward to wearing the cast off from Jason, but I've admitted I'm more than a little curious to now what he looks like in a suit. I think he's going to look delicious and I don't know how I'm going to keep my hands off him.
Walking to the front door I knock and wait, Joe standing a pace behind, but next to me. It takes only a moment before the door opens, Rosa standing there, face bursting into a beaming smile as soon as she lays eyes on me. She looks older than the last time I saw her, brown skin more wrinkled, more grey in her black hair and more wisdom in her bright brown eyes. I want to hug the short woman to me, the only motherly embrace which has been constant in my life. I don't though, always having to keep the working boundaries when I know my father is around, especially now I'm an adult.
'Ben!' She greets excitedly before turning, 'I'll just go let your parents know you've arrived.'
She hurries from the reception room and I let Joe step up to my side before closing the door behind us. I put my bag and wine down at my feet before wiping the nervous sweat off my palms onto my jeans. I look to Joe, find his eyes up as he looks at the height of the ceiling, his mouth is slightly open and now the shades are gone I see his eyes are wide. I take a breath to talk, but any thought of conversation is cut short as my mother breezes through the marble floored area, smiling as she takes my hands.
'Ben,' she grins, leaning in and kissing each of my cheeks in turn. My family isn't big on hugging, has never been. We're reserved, and that's why meeting Joe's friends had been such a shock, just as this must be to him now with our reluctance to embrace.
'Hi mom, it's good to see you. You're looking well.'
She does, better than the last time I saw her after my fathers heart attack, and sober.
'You too, how was graduation?' She asks, releasing my hands and taking a step back.
'It was fine,' I answer, the event having been nothing special. Satisfied by this answer she eagerly turns her attention to Joe, obviously having looked forward to meeting him.
'You must be Joe,' she greets with enthusiasm, 'I've heard so much about you.'
It's a nice pleasantry, but it's also a lie. I've told her very little about Joe, she had even been surprised when I'd called asking to bring him. I guess she assumed we were not longer dating after our conversation at the restaurant.
'Nice to meet you too Mrs. Haner,' he offers back, smiling, being as naturally charming as ever. It's a lovely charm, nothing like the sexual glint Jason has in his smile, this is only flattering. I'm glad, I want my mother to fall in love with him, and I can't see a reason why she wouldn't.
'Please... call me Kathryn. It had been a nice surprise when Ben called to say you'd be coming, it's good to know he's feeling more settled away from home,' mom continues, still holding his hand, using this as a point of contact to keep his attention the way she has always done with any of her clients. My mom is a good solicitor, one of note in her own right and her professional life shows in her private. Yet she is obviously taken by him, not having always given my boyfriends permission to address her so informally.
'Ben!' comes my fathers booming voice, taking over the room with its presence, always one to let people know he's there, and that he's in charge of all proceedings.
'Dad,' I greet, turning, accepting the handshake he always offers. This is the only show of physical affection I've had from him and will ever get.
'How was the flight?' He asks now, releasing my hands, keeping the usual distance between us almost like it's regulated.
'Wasn't too bad, it was the drive which was terrible. It's one hell of a hot day.'
My father nods in agreement, eyes fixed on me, not straying to Joe who is still in conversation with my mother. He's doing everything in his power to keep his eyes from him, that much is for sure. I know he doesn't want to acknowledge him, and he must have been pissed as hell that I wanted him to come.
'Yeah, it's stifling. Thought we'd spend the day on the yacht. Everyone's outside ready to go, we were just waiting for you to arrive,' he smiles, although it is soon lost off his face as my mother brings Joe over, gripping him by the wrist, her own smile tight. She knows this isn't going to run smoothly, it never has when my father is reminded of my sexuality. 'You must be Ben's friend,' my father offers cooly, eyes set as he runs them over Joe, lingering on his tattooed arms, not giving anything away in his face but not offering a handshake, a sure sign of dismissal. He is quick to look away.
'Joe Esposito,' Joe introduces, holding his hand out boldly, all of his usual pride in his stance, straight and fearless. I should have known he'd be able to handle this. 'Nice to meet you Mr. Landon.'
My dad can't avoid the handshake without offending both me, Joe and his own hosting sensibilities, so he takes his hand briefly, not raising his eyes to Joe, although Joe's eyes rest easily on him.
'You two should go freshen up before we join the others,' my mother suggests, 'you'll probably want to change for the yacht.'
I want to kiss her again, this opportunity something I'll be eternally grateful for.
'Yeah, I could do with getting out of this shirt... you out on the terrace?'
'Yes,' she smiles, taking my father by the arm, starting to lead him away, 'Rosa will show you to the room.'
As soon as they're out of sight I take a deep breath, bending down and picking up the bag again. Joe copies my actions and I move forward, placing the wine on a table to pick up on the way back.
'This way boys,' Rosa grins, her Mexican spiced accent something I've missed so deeply and I hadn't even realised. She takes the suits from Joe without a word, folding them over her arm before leading us up the stairs. 'I've put you in your old room, although it's been redecorated as a guest bedroom.'
How did I not know this? Has it really been nearly three years since I've come back to this place? I realise it has, my reluctance to be swallowed up by my fathers plans meaning I'd kept myself immersed in my new life, in the friends I've made and used their families at holidays as a replacement for my own. No wonder my mother rings me telling me she misses me so much. I shouldn't have stayed in a hotel last time, what kind of horrible person am I? In reality I'm just as fucking selfish as them, but then again, they're the only role models I have.
Up the sweeping staircase we turn to the right, following the small plump body. Slipping my gaze sideways I sneak a glance at Joe, find his eyes getting wider and wider as we get deeper into the house, closer to the room I used to call home. She pushes the door open and I see instantly that she's opened the panelled windows, thoughtfully airing the room for us. I drop the bag and act on the information that the others are outside by pulling her into a hug. She feels just as I remember, all of the safety of the embrace rushing over me, reminding me of my youth. She hugs me back, obviously surprised at my actions, but not enough to pull away. I'd grown reserved in the image of my father, but now Joe has changed me, made me appreciate love and not be ashamed to show it.
Letting go of the small woman I find her radiant, a beaming smile on her face like I remember when I was a child and she took me to the park. There is love in that look, more love than I remember seeing in my mother.
'If your father saw you...' she chides, although obviously not meaning it.
'He's outside,' I dismiss with a roll of the eyes, ' and what he can't see can't hurt him.'
'Well, I have to go see to their drinks,' she tells me reluctantly, I can almost see the tug on her emotions which makes her want to stay and talk to me. She looks to Joe now, eyes soft and genuine. 'It's nice meeting you.'
She scurries off, leaving us alone and closing the door behind her. Joe places his bag on the side of the bed he usually sleeps on. His back is to me, and he stands perfectly still, barely a rise of his shoulders as he breathes. I walk over, running a hand over his shoulder. He leans into the touch, a positive indicator of how he's feeling, if he was too stressed out by the situation he'd pull away and put the distance between us he usually does.
'You okay?' I ask, glad of this time to speak to him alone, to address the situation and get things sorted before he meets the rest of my family, because it's only going to get worse.
He doesn't speak straight away, just continues to look ahead of him, at the painting on the wall I don't recognise, but don't like, some modern splatter of paint on a canvass which could have been done by a three year old.
'I think I am,' he answers finally, not turning and not moving, 'I don't know, it's just this place...'
Again I feel ashamed, upset that I've caused him pain through my own stupidity.
'I should have said something, I'm sorry,' I apologise, squeezing his shoulder, 'I just didn't think. I'm an idiot.' I see him nod, choppy cut hair rippling like ravens wings. I lean forward, kissing the hair which is beautifully soft against my lips. 'I'm going to get changed.' I tell him, moving away, 'it's too hot and these are sticking to me.'
Unzipping the bag I pull out a pair of baggy shorts, already tasting the sea breeze at the thought of being on the yacht. Changing into these I see that Joe is also changing again, this time into a pair of cammo shorts which show off the tattoo's on his calves. A studded belt is already threaded through the loops and he fastens the buckle. To my eye he looks delicious, and right now I know that's all that matters. I just want him to feel comfortable, don't want him to think my family is judging him for the way he dresses although I know they probably are. I love it, and the minute he starts wearing pants and a shirt I'll know something is wrong. Still I wish we'd not come, I shouldn't have subjected him to this.
'You been on a boat before?' I ask as I pull a fresh t-shirt over my head, old one discarded on top of my open bag.
'No, and I can't say I'm looking forward to the experience,' he says, finally turning, brushing a hand down his fairly fitted t-shirt which skims his belt.
'It'll be fine, you wont get seasick, we wont be under sail, it's too calm a day,' I placate, smiling over at him, trying to get him to loosen up, even though I'm only hiding how uptight I am.
'It's not throwing up I'm worried about,' he smirks, looking positive despite the challenges I've placed in his way, 'I can't swim.'
'Didn't you ever go with school?' I ask, knowing mine had their own swimming pool, but doubting his did.
'God yeah, once, but me and Frank bailed out every time they tried to take us,' he tells me, and I don't doubt it. From what I've heard him and Frank used to ditch most days.
'Then I'll just have to make sure you don't drown if you end up in the water,' I smile, walking to stand in front of him. He rolls his eyes and I run my hand over his shoulders, then down his arms until I'm gripping his hands. 'Look, it'll be okay, I'll make sure of it.'
He nods to this, but avoids eye contact by leaning forward, his forehead on my shoulder. I let go of his hands, pulling him to me, holding him tight. I get why he's nervous and I only wish I'd done more to prepare him for this.
'We should go down,' I tell him, not wanting to break the silence, but knowing we have to go down at some point. I'd quite happily stand and hug him forever, but I can't, not when they're waiting for us.
Walking through the house his attention is everywhere but on me, eyes all over everything. He's inquisitive, I know he is, but this is more, this is him drinking in everything we've not talked about. Each single piece of furniture is another incriminating piece of evidence, everything picked out and overpriced by an interior designer. When we reach the reception area I pause only to pick up the wine, offering him a weak smile as I catch his eyes momentarily. He doesn't smile back, and drops his gaze quickly. I hate not having his approval. Continuing through the entertainment area and breakfast room I reach the immaculate French windows which are flung open, laughter filtering from the terrace outside. I hear my step brother... fuck I didn't want him to be here yet. Why is fate trying to kill me?
Passing through these into the sunshine I pluck the shades from my shirtfront and push them on. Stopping still a moment I take in the view, the steps down to the pool and the glittering ocean at the bottom of the lawn, behind the tennis court. I really have been privileged, I know this isn't what most people have. Joe is at my side and I start walking before he has a good chance to take everything in. Turning to the terrace I find the table beneath the shade of a rustic looking shelter, the table it houses filled with people I haven't seen for too long.
'Ben!' Pip greets, getting up from the table and eagerly running to hug me. I'm glad we've kept in touch. I wish she'd been my blood sister so she wouldn't have been taken from my life. I know she wishes it were the same, she wanted to ditch her actual asshole brother during the divorce.
'Pip it's good to see you,' I grin, hugging her tighter than I ever have, her small, delicate body dwarfed in my arms.
She takes after her mother, both slim, blonde women, although Pip doesn't look as breakable as her mother, who is fluttery and quiet. Unfortunately Rich doesn't take after his mother, he's rude, obnoxious and I don't know why the fuck he's been invited. My father knows I hate him, and that he harbours no affection for me. There must be some ulterior motive, dad doesn't like him too much either, all he admires is his Harvard business degree. I know my dad wishes that was me, but he can shove it, I didn't do it and I'll never do it. I wonder if anyone else has ever turned down such a prestigious university.
'It's been a long time since we've seen you,' my aunt follows with, not getting up from the seat, her youngest child in her lap. She's such a vibrant person, obviously connected to this family through marriage. It's the keen blue eyes which give it away more than anything, all of the Landon's having dark brown. 'God you've grown into such a handsome young man.'
I blush, but manage to offer her a compliment back. She's always been nice to me 'You're looking well yourself.'
Her eyes move and fix on Joe, and there's nothing but warmth in them. 'You must be Joe, nice to meet you, I'm Ben's aunt Belle,' and I can tell she is putting him at ease, reminding him more of the people he knows despite her southern accent and expensive clothes.
'Pleasure to meet you,' Joe offers, making her beam at him before continuing her introductions, ones which my father isn't going to offer to him.
'Well, welcome. That's my husband Pete, and that slouched in the chair sulking is my son Brett. This little madam is Haylie,' she moves her head down, closer to her daughters ear, who looks out at me with even blue eyes. 'That's your cousin Ben, he's not seen you since you were one, why don't you go give him a hug?'
Haylie looks at me, then up at her mother for reassurance, which she gives in form of a smile. She then slips off her mothers lap and makes her way to me. She must be four now, and she's grown considerably since the last time I saw here, her brown hair thin around her face, a pink bow clipped into the side, matching the floral print of her short dress, for some reason she's only wearing socks, her shoes on the table. She stands at my feet, looking up at me with wide eyes, and I see the encouragement of her mother has worn off, leaving her staring at someone she doesn't recognise. Instantly I feel awkward, not knowing how to react. I've had no experience dealing with children, and they just make me worried that I'll do something wrong and make them cry. With me offering nothing her attention quickly switches to Joe, a mix of concern and curiosity on her face. I guess he does look different to the people she's grown up around. Joe doesn't miss a beat, dropping down to his knees to be more on her level.
'Hey, I'm Joe, nice to meet you Haylie.' He smiles at her softly, holding out his hand, and with a look of wonder she slips hers into his, which he holds lightly.
Joe looks to me now from this position, a smirk on his lips.
'I don't think Ben knows how to treat such grown up young ladies.'
She giggles at this, still gripping his hand.
'I'm four,' she announces, indicating the number by holding her other hand up, fingers splayed, thumb bent down. 'How old are you?'
'I'm twenty one, old I know, but Ben's even older,' he leans forward a little, tone playfully conspiratorial as they both look up at me, 'he's twenty two.'
She laughs again, and I can see only openness on her face, towards us both. He's such a genius, not only has he thawed her wariness to me, but he's also brought himself to the attention of the women, shown them that he's gentler than he looks. I've always been useless with kids, they all know that, but Joe has had experience dealing with Frank's sisters' broods and I'm sure could win over any child he wanted.
'Your voice is funny,' she tells Joe simply, her other hand in his now as he laughs.
Belle laughs as well, getting up and picking her daughter up, bringing her back to the seat, letting Joe stand up.
'He comes from New York,' Belle tells her, 'remember the place with the big lady statue we walked up.'
Haylie nods, and I have to say surrounded by my Californian family Joe's accent is stronger than I'd thought. I can even hear some inflections in my own speech which I've picked up over the three years there, something which I'd completely overlooked.
'It's a home town affliction, what can I say?' Joe offers, eyes bright with amusement as he gets up off his knees. They have to be falling in love with him, because I know right now in this moment I'm doing it all over again.
Emily smiles at me, and I walk over, kissing her on the cheek, aware that my mother is watching every movement. She resents this woman for getting to spend time with me as a child, and that it was her affair with my father which split their marriage in the first place.
'Good to see you Emily.'
'You too,' she offers back breathily and I step back, nodding curtly at Rich, the only form of greeting I'll ever give him. I'll never forget the way he tormented me and Pip as children, and I'll never forgive him for making her life hell after they left.
'Sit up straight,' Pete barks at Brett, who simply scowls at his father, not even pretending to move.
'What's up Brett?' I ask my cousin, who's changed a hell of a lot since the last time I saw him, although I guess you do a lot of growing between thirteen and sixteen.
'These assholes won't let me have a beer,' he replies sullenly, looking every inch the rebellious teenager; lank, shaggy brown hair framing a face recovering from a bout of acne. His clothes are ill fitting, speaking of a lazy, skater style.
'Watch your language,' Pete complains, shaking his head at his son.
'It's not tangible, I can't watch it, sorry,' Brett replies with attitude.
I stifle a laugh, unable to stop it from bursting through my lips. Brett looks up at me with an encouraged glint in his eye. Maybe I shouldn't encourage him, but hell, he's got more spirit to him than I did at that age, and independent thinking is never a bad thing.
'He's sixteen isn't he?' I ask, looking to Belle for an answer. She nods. 'Well that's old enough to have a beer with your parents surely?'
'When he decides to grow up and not drop out of highschool then he'll be grown up enough to have a beer,' my uncle cuts in with, the same disparaging, authoritative tone as my father uses when talking down to me. Brett just rolls his eyes, muttering something beneath his breath, something I'm sure he wouldn't want his father to actually hear.
'Well, the introductions over I think we should make our way to the boat,' my father suggests, although it is more of an order, 'it's too much of a nice day to stay on land.'
I nod in agreement, eager to get to the water. As much as I love my life in New York, I can't say I don't miss the clear ocean and perfect beaches of home. It's the only thing I'd change about my current situation, and it's an aspect I've learned to live without.
The family start to move and I take a step back, bringing myself closer to Joe to reassure him, and myself. If we're going to get through this day then we have to remain strong, and united. They're going to start trying to pick him apart, for one reason or another. My father leads the way towards the private marina, his brother close behind, Rich at their heels, forcing himself into their conversation. Brett slouches up to my side, only a little shorter than me now, the same height as Joe. God, he really has grown, I remember him being a good head or two shorter.
'Thanks for trying to get me a beer,' he offers, although doesn't smile, 'my dad won't back down though, he's a stubborn fuck.'
'Why wouldn't I? I know how it feels to have a stubborn father,' I reply with a smile, glad that he can talk to me so easily after all this time. I thought it might be awkward, especially now with the age gap spanning teens and twenties. 'You really thinking of dropping out?'
He smirks now, devilment gleaming his dark brown eyes as he flicks hair out of his face.
'A little, but it's more just to wind him up so when I do decide to finish highschool he'll be so happy he won't give a shit about me not going to college.'
Smart little bastard. Maybe that's something I should have thought of when I was in the same situation as him, although I guess my father thought my 'experimentation with my sexuality' was acting out enough. Brett's sly and smart, and I envy his forethought instantly. If I had played it out that way I wouldn't have spent so many years arguing with my father, years where we pushed each other so far away there's no chance of either of us ever bridging the gap. He's too disappointed by me, and I'm too angry and wary to trust him not to try and run my life. Brett keeps in step and I move a little closer to Joe, but don't touch him. Brett however reaches his hand across my body.
'I'm Brett, you're Ben's new guy I take it.'
'Joe, yeah,' Joe replies, shaking my cousins hand over my waist.
'Welcome to fucking hell dude.'
And it will be.