Hugh's New Dude by Kris Ripper

Author:Kris Ripper
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-03-12T04:00:00+00:00

* * *

Truman checked his watch. Friday night dinner, only the third time he’d met up with Hugh at his house first, instead of meeting at the restaurant. And he’d better get moving or Hugh would be pacing in the kitchen, trying not to be anxious. (Andrew would save their table, no matter how late they were, but Hugh didn’t like to be the cause of anyone’s inconvenience.)

He was just starting down the stairs when he heard a knock.

“I’ll get it, I’m right here.”

Hugh emerged from the kitchen just as he opened the door.

To a soaked-to-the-skin Will. With dark shadows in his face and bloodshot eyes.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Sorry, Truman.”

“Come in, you’re drenched. Will, is everything all right?” Truman glanced at Hugh, who was not, as expected, walking toward Will. He was just—watching.

“Yeah, sorry, I—I don’t know. Sorry. I should—I should leave. Oh, god, it’s Friday, shit, I’m so sorry, you guys have to go to dinner—”

“Will.”

Drops of water flew off Will’s hair as he looked up. “Shit, I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” Hugh asked.

“I dunno. I just—Aunt Jeanie died. And we had the rosary. And I should have called, but I was just walking around and then I recognized the neighborhood, and then—fuck, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just shown up like this.”

“Come to dinner, Will,” Truman said. “Let me find you some clothes.”

“No—no, Truman, I couldn’t—”

Truman turned and went back up to the bedroom, dimly acknowledging that while this was the first time he’d ever gone into Hugh’s closet, it felt entirely right to be searching for a shirt and tie for Hugh’s ex. (While Hugh no doubt tried to convince said ex to accompany them to dinner.)

A green shirt hung to one side, slightly apart from the rest of the shirts. Perfect. Will’s most striking feature was his eyes.

He grabbed one of the ties in the top drawer and returned to find Hugh with his hands on Will’s shoulders.

“Get changed.”

“You’ll be late. You hate being late.”

“I’ll have gained your company. A worthy trade.”

“Here,” Truman said, and offered the shirt.

“God, Truman, I really can’t crash dinner—”

“Sure you can. And anyway, if you leave now, then we’ll be distracted. And Hugh will have to call your brothers, who will, naturally, also be concerned. They’ll call the rest of your family to send out a search for you through the streets of Oakland, in the dark, in the rain. Really, Will, this is so much easier.” He shook the clothing just a little insistently. “Go change.”

Will blinked, then glanced at Hugh. “So, uh, that’s what you meant, when you said don’t mess with Truman.”

“Logic being even more convincing than a tipped single tail,” Hugh agreed.

A flash of pain in Will’s face, just before he turned away.

“Is he all right?” Truman murmured, stepping closer.

“Aunt Jeanie—who was actually a great-aunt, and more accurately, a non-biological near-sister to his grandmother—was one of two family matriarchs, and his grandmother is in an assisted living home with Alzheimer’s.”

Truman reached up to rub his left shoulder, which still ached during bad weather fifteen years after the original injury.

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