Chapter 3: Looking for a chance

Thanks to Jim for editing!

I must have been out of my mind. I never should have been at the Trust's house, let alone in it. And Juanita must have recently waxed the hardwood floors because she was now standing halfway down the stairs with her hands at the hips of her two-piece black suit, shaking her bemused head at me, her long, dark hair shaking with it, as I attempted to get up before the door opened any further, but slipped and landed right back on my ass.

I was caught. Terrified. Caught. In shock. I was fucking caught, and in my panic, I lifted my foot and kicked the door so hard that it snapped shut again. Juanita's jaw dropped, and I found myself looking back at her as she rushed down the stairs, yelling a whole lot of things that I'm sure meant, very, very bad. I was so preoccupied with the way she was shouting at me, that I failed to get up on a third try. I really didn't remember the floor being so slippery when I'd entered the house.

"What is going on?" It was a distinctly male voice coming from the other side of the heavy, dark door and it gave me pause, just as I made it to my knees, grunting when Juanita grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the way. She was still shouting at me. Or maybe, at someone else. All I knew, was that it was hurting both of my pierced ears and I was eternally grateful when it stopped. But that was only because the tall man--really tall man, who not only towered over me, but would likely tower over Caleb, too--with piercing green eyes--currently narrowed--and a set jaw, stepped through the door, held his long, index finger up to his full top lip, and shushed Juanita while I stared at him.

I suppose shining was the word that came to mind. Even when there was no radiant smile to show off his curvy lips and white teeth, the man still had a presence about him. His wardrobe might as well have been perfectly tailored to his body because there wasn't a sleeve out of place or a waistline too high on his baby-blue dress shirt or black dress pants. Even his tie looked like it had grown on his neck. His shoes shone, and so did his dark hair--in the same soft, subtle way that Milo's did. He looked a lot like Milo, just like in the poster at my bank. But in person, it seemed that he glared like Milo, too.

"Who are you?" he demanded, looking at me before he looked at Juanita and addressed her. "¿Quién es?"

I actually groaned, not at all happy that now there were two people blocking my way out the front door who I couldn't understand, when Juanita moved around me to join Mr. Trust as she started chattering again.

"No sé. La Senora Hill me dijo a llevarle al cuarto de Milo, pero anda como un loco! Creo que está borracho," she finished, regarding me suspiciously.

I had a feeling that whatever she was saying, wasn't exactly flattering towards me, the way that Thompson Trust was suddenly regarding me cynically.

"I'm sorry," I cut in, deciding that it was a good idea to interrupt before I got arrested again. "Mr. Trust? I'm sorry... I'm just going to leave now." I took a brave step forward, meaning to reach the door, but Mr. Trust also took a step forward, his proud posture blocking me in as his green eyes fell over mine.

"What were you doing in my son's bedroom?" he demanded, looking me over from head to toe, as if he fully expected to find something pillaged from his property on my person.

My eyes widened at the question and I pointed a shaky finger at Juanita. "She took me there!"

Juanita released an outraged gasp as one hand went to her hip. "No, no," she said firmly. I wondered if she even knew what I was talking about.

"Yes, yes," I retorted, before turning the best blue, pleading eyes I could on Mr. Trust. "Look, it was all a mistake," I insisted. "Someone else... someone else... someone else..." I groaned as I tried to remember the name of the woman who I'd originally run into, and Mr. Trust frowned at me. "Emily Hill!" I blurted, stoked that I remembered. Mr. Trust seemed unimpressed, but his shoulders did seem to relax at the mention of the name. "I was dropping something off for Milo. Painting--it's his." Mr. Trust crossed his arms, still looking rather stern so I rushed the rest my explanation. "She thought your housekeeper..."

Juanita gasped again. I was beginning to see her as a very overdramatic individual. "Housekeeper?" she repeated in her very thick accent, looking entirely insulted.

"Juanita is not a housekeeper," Mr. Trust informed me, sounding somewhat snotty.

"Okay," I responded, becoming exasperated quickly. "Your... Juanita should take it to Milo's room. But, she misunderstood and took me there instead. I was just trying to return the painting. Honest. Can I please go now?"

Rather than responding to me, Mr. Trust turned back to Juanita, and once again they involved themselves in a conversation that I didn't understand. But, I did hear the name Tommy mentioned several times. I sighed, feeling rather stuck in this situation, but straightened immediately when Mr. Trust looked at me again.

"What's your name?" he demanded.

"Bobby," I lied, for the second time in one afternoon. Unfortunately, just as I said it, the door behind Mr. Trust and Juanita opened again, and this time Milo walked through it, carrying a handful of mail, innocently flipping through it until he bothered to look up, his eyes widening as he saw me and stopped in his tracks.

"Nelson?" he practically spat out, and now I had two members of the Trust family glaring at me.

"Nelson?" Mr. Trust repeated.

"Bobby Nelson," I said quickly. "Most people just call me Nelson."

Feeling caught, and completely desperate, I looked at Milo Trust, who had raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at me, pleadingly. It was all I really could do. He definitely had no reason to, but at the moment, I could only hope that he'd take pity on me. I threw a nervous but friendly smile in his direction. "Hi, Milo, I was just here... returning that painting." For this, Milo Trust rolled his eyes at me.

"You can't be serious," Milo mumbled.

"Tommy, do you know him?" Mr. Trust asked.

"Unfortunately," Milo remarked.

"Hey--I really have to get going," I insisted, cautiously stepping between Mr. Trust and Juanita. But, as I passed Milo, I made another mistake. "That painting's on your bed," I told him, and suddenly Milo was glaring at me again, his hand suddenly latching onto my arm, just above my elbow, so tight that I thought it was going to bruise. I met his eyes, feeling a little startled, and completely taken aback by the forced smile on his face that actually appeared frightening.

"You don't have to leave," he said, faking nice. "Stay a while."

I studied him for a moment, suddenly wondering if he had a basement and intended to bury me in it as I put on a fake smile of my own.

"I really need to go," I told him.

"It'll only take a second," he countered. "I want to show you another painting."

With those words, I felt my stomach rise into my throat, wondering exactly what painting he intended to show me, but managed to keep a straight face as I bit at my top lip.

"Fine," I replied quietly, and Milo suddenly released my arm, and looked away from me altogether, to face his father.

"Will you be home for dinner?" Milo asked.

"No," Mr. Trust started. "I'm meeting Emily at..."

To my surprise, that's as far as Mr. Trust got before Milo cut him off. "See you later, then. We'll be in my room."

Milo nodded for me to follow him, and reluctantly, I did so as he passed Juanita, smiling at her as he handed her the mail. But instinctively I stopped in front of the shiny wood stairs, even if Milo didn't, when Mr. Trust called out again. "Tommy, I want to talk to you before I leave."

"I have homework, Dad," Milo responded, still not looking back.

"It's summer!" Mr. Trust responded. He looked irritated when his eyes fell on me again, and as soon as he frowned, I was quickly following Milo again, and as I caught up to him, I found myself explaining in a hushed tone, about how entirely none of this was my fault because Juanita had misunderstood Emily Hill. Not that my excuses even mattered. For all I knew, Milo wasn't even listening to me. He didn't look at me or acknowledge my presence at all as we moved down the empty hall and I came to a stop with him in front of his opened bedroom door.

"Don't come in," Milo said simply, and I frowned at him as I watched him move into his room, while I obediently stayed put--for about two seconds, before I remembered that I wasn't his dog. I still stopped one step into his room, though, looking down at the corner of a blue rug and the center of a green one beneath my feet. I suppose I was just waiting, not really sure what I was doing there. When I looked up, however, I frowned again, to see Milo moving around his room very slowly and suspiciously, looking at many of the paintings that I'd stopped to take the time to look at with only quick glances, as if he were taking inventory. He was also looking at me every few moments, as if he expected me to give something away, which is why I did everything in my power to avoid looking towards the paintings covered by the white sheet near his closet.

"Fuck," I finally cursed, more exasperated than anything at this point, and when Milo looked at me I lifted my arms. "Wanna search me?" I remarked.

He narrowed those emerald eyes of his without comment before turning towards his bed, and I watched him lift the package I'd left from the burgundy comforter. With his back to me, he tore the paper rather carelessly, dropping it on the paint-splattered rugs covering the floor before he held up the painting, inspecting it for several long moments.

Milo slowly turned around, once again meeting my eyes. "What do you want?" he asked.

"Me?" I asked, surprised. "I wanted to go home, remember? You're the one who wanted to show me something," I added, preparing myself, just in case he was brazen enough to show me the only painting in his room that was hard for me to look at. But, as much as I was terrified of him doing just that, I was also curious, wondering what his intentions were. My instincts told me that he wouldn't dare try to show it to me, not that painting. But I was also questioning why he painted it. Fantasy, and a little common sense told me that Milo Trust didn't have a girlfriend, and he'd probably never be looking for a girlfriend, and that was an interesting and severely appealing thought to have. Caution, however, told me that his intentions were much more malicious than that, and for all I knew, he could be planning to hang it out in front of the post office as a practical joke, in which case, I'd have to kill him. That paranoid thought also had me wondering if he'd shown it to anyone already, like Jame Graham. That, I was afraid, would also warrant homicide.

Milo didn't show me that painting, though. Instead, he moved forward and held out the scarecrow portrait that I'd just tried to return to him, watching me carefully as my eyes fell over the detailed image set in front of the sunrise.

"Take it," he said.

I continued to stare for a moment, but did no such thing. Instead, I lifted my eyes, facing him reasonably.

"I don't feel right about keeping it," I said honestly.

He cocked his head at me. "You bought it. It's yours."

"Your other paintings..."

"You don't hear me offering to buy your jackass friend a new window, do you?" he cut me off. "Just take the painting, and go away. Stay away this time, alright?" I just frowned, still refusing to take it. "If you don't, I'll burn it," he challenged, and I looked at him, a small amused smile curling my lip.

"No you wouldn't."

"Try me."

I frowned at that, his threat bothering me more than I wanted to let him know as I looked at the painting that I'd grown quite attached to. Burn it. That was just wrong. I watched Milo brush his soft, dark locks back behind his ear when I reached out and took the painting from him. Once it was in my hands, he regarded me expectantly with a pointed look that told me that I was to leave, immediately. I almost did just that, too. He certainly didn't want me there, and I'd already gotten myself into enough trouble. But, knowing that I'd be walking out of a room that had a painting of naked me in it gave me pause as my mind focused on what his intentions were. For a brief moment, I thought of simply confronting him about it. Chances were, he'd be more embarrassed about it than I was, even if he had malicious intentions. But, I realized, I didn't want to embarrass him. Despite his blunt resistance to any effort I made to fall in his good graces, I still liked him. Plus, he was the only guy in this town, besides the flamer at the bookstore, who I'd met that could actually be gay. This wasn't exactly something that I was eager to walk away from.

"How long did it take you to paint this?" I asked conversationally, looking down to inspect the painting in my hands, once again appreciating the warm colors behind the tree as much as I appreciated the image of the ugly, dark scarecrow hanging from it.

"I don't remember," Milo responded tiredly. "Do I need to walk you to the door?" He made even the idea of it sound like a chore.

I smiled at him. "That would be great. Your housekeeper kind of freaks me out."

"Juanita's not a housekeeper," he responded hotly, passing me to move out his opened door.

"Then... what is she?" I asked nosily as I followed him into the hallway. "Because, she was doing your laundry, and I'm pretty sure she waxed the floor--right in front of the door, like..."

"She does a lot around here," Milo cut me off, abruptly stopping as he rounded on me. "She's family, and she doesn't... freak people out."

"She freaked me out."

"Well, you're a fucking idiot."

Milo turned to keep walking, but stopped and spun around again, looking annoyed as hell when I touched the short sleeve of his forest-green shirt, which was as dirty and wrinkled as mine from all of the work we'd done earlier.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" I asked calmly, just like I'd ask any normal person who wasn't entirely bothered by my general existence.

"What?" Milo snapped. His eyes were narrowed and there was a frown in his brow as he lifted his hand, once again pushing his hair back, giving me a better view of his handsome, yet perturbed face.

"What is it about me that you can't stand?" I asked. "I mean, I apologized for what happened with your paintings. I offered to pay for them, and I understand how fucked up the whole thing was in the first place. Why don't you like me?"

"I don't even know you," Milo responded as he turned for the third time and headed down the empty hallway, leaving me to follow in his wake.

"So, why not get to know me?"

"Because I don't like you," he replied, matter-of-factly.

"Which, brings me back to why not?"

"Why do you even care?" he retorted, his green eyes flashing at me as he glanced over his shoulder before facing ahead, just in time to move down the stairs.

"Don't you like to know why people don't like you when... you know, they don't like you?"

"No."

"Why not?" I asked, finding him quite impossible.

"Why would I if they don't like me, anyway?" he said, stopping in front of his front door and opening it for me. I didn't quite realize how dim the lighting in his house was until the sun from outside poured over me, causing my eyes to squint in Milo's general direction. "Are you leaving yet?" he asked impatiently.

I frowned, and stepped through the door, but only halfway, just in case he planned to slam it on me once I was on the other side. I turned to face him, still cradling the painting in my hands.

"I'll probably be at Hangman Cove tomorrow afternoon," I announced, even if it was information that he didn't care to have. "Any chance you'll be there?"

"Not anymore," he said flatly, and suddenly I had to step back because apparently, he didn't need to wait to slam his door before I was on the other side of it.

...

I lay face down in my green swim trunks on Leanna's long, pink beach towel, propped up on my elbows as I lifted a hand full of warm, white sand and watched it drain through my fingers. The temperature had reached the low nineties today. I couldn't even see any clouds set against the blue sky, just plenty of sun reflecting off the water and beating down on my bare back, which Haily had recently applied an extra coat of sunscreen to for me, the scent of it flooding my nostrils as much as the scent of the lake and the food being sold all around it.

Hangman Cove was just as busy as it was every other Saturday, but it was the snow-cone vendor who was making a fortune. From where I was resting behind my brother, who was stretched out on a blue towel with Leanna straddling his back, braiding his shoulder-length pink hair, I could see Haily and Joe in line. They'd promised to bring me back a grape snow cone, and Leanna and Chad--who was fronting the bill--strawberry. Caleb was there, too. Somewhere in the water, I guessed. That's where most people were today because of the heat. Caleb, Joe, Haily, and I had come around noon, ready to relax over the last weekend we had to enjoy before school started, and we'd unexpectedly run into my brother, something I was happy about, since he hadn't answered his phone the night before when I wanted to talk about Milo Trust.

"Are you sure it was you you saw?" Chad asked, moving his fist to prop up his chin as he looked over at me from behind purple sunglasses. I'd told him all about what I'd done after community service the day before, including how I'd found that painting in Chad's room. It had been hard not to think about, and I was hoping that Chad would have a helpful opinion on the matter.

"I don't think you understand just how good this guy is," I replied. "His paintings are... fucking amazing. They look real. Did you see the one of the scarecrow that's in my room?" Chad shook his head. "Well, it's good. And, yeah, I'm sure it was me. Naked. I mentioned naked, right?"

"You mentioned naked," Leanna said, pulling one of Chad's braids tighter, causing him to wince.

"So what do you think?" I asked. "I mean, do you think I should worry? I don't want to think about fliers of that floating around town."

"He doesn't like you?" Chad asked, taking an interest in picking the dirt out of his thumbnail.

"Hates me," I stated, frowning. "Pretty sure of it. Like, I think if I tried to be any nicer to him, he'd take it as an insult and spit on me."

"Maybe he's still pissed about what happened when you got arrested," Chad said. "I guess this could be revenge. Have you heard anything... I mean, do you think he's shown anyone?"

"I haven't heard anything--but I only saw it yesterday."

"He could be gay," Chad suggested. "He doesn't have to like you to have a thing for you."

"Why can't he like me and have a thing for me?" I complained.

"I like this theory better," Leanna spoke up as she looked at me. Without her thick glasses, her features didn't seem as tiny, but in her one-piece black suit with a butterfly pattern on it, and her light, short hair parted into pigtails, she looked a lot younger than she was. "You said in the painting you were..."

"Yes, naked," I said.

"No, besides that," she responded, turning back to face Chad's hair as a pink blush colored her cheeks. "You know, that you were..."

"Saluting the chief," Chad finished for her.

"Saluting the chief?" Leanna repeated, rolling her eyes. "Who ever says that?" She paused and looked at me again. "My point is, he gave you a big pecker, right?"

Chad laughed. "Pecker?"

"Oh, Christ," I muttered, running my fingers through my short hair and wishing that I had a hat because my scalp was actually starting to hurt under the sun. "Yes, I was saluting the chief with my big pecker--not me, the painting. But... you get the picture, so to speak."

"Don't you think that he would have given you a small one if he wanted to embarrass you?" Leanna replied, ignoring the way that Chad was now laughing hysterically beneath her.

"I don't know," I said reasonably. "Nothing like this has ever happened to me before." I paused and looked at Leanna. "I like this theory better, too."

"So you like him?" Chad asked me. "Thompson Trust's kid?" My brother sounded a little skeptical.

"He's kind of a jerk," I admitted. "I mean, to me. Not hard to look at, though."

"So you've chosen to be completely shallow about this?" Leanna remarked.

"Mostly shallow," I admitted, cracking a small smile. "But, someone who paints like he does can't be all bad. Seriously, the next time you're over you'll have to see the one in my room. It's perfect."

"I think I'd like to see it," Leanna replied. "Remind me." She smiled as she finished off another tight braid in my brother's hair, and regarded me curiously as she got the next strand ready. "So you met Thompson Trust?" she asked.

"Uh-huh," I replied, dusting off Leanna's towel where I'd spilled some sand on it.

"I've only seen him once," she said. "I was at the park with my mom and he was across the street at the library, getting into his car. I didn't really get a good look at him. Does he look as good as he does in the posters?"

"Baby," Chad whined, looking over his shoulder at his girlfriend. "I'm right here!"

Leanna rolled her eyes and leaned forward to kiss my brother's cheek. "I know you are," she promised, right before looking at me again. "So is he?"

"At least as good," I replied, and then smiled. "But you should see Milo."

"You're both pathetic," Chad commented, before turning his attention in my direction more seriously. "I don't know, Nels. Have you tried talking to him? Like, make a fresh start. Maybe he'll come around if you really try to introduce yourself."

"Introduce yourself to who?"

The three of us looked up at the sound of Haily's voice to find her and Joe standing over us, their hands filled with assorted snow cones, already dripping, from the look of purple and red streaks of color running down Joe's tanned, toned chest and into the waistband of his red suit.

"Mr. Danner," I said smoothly. "Just in case I get him for History again this year. He doesn't really like me."

"That's because you and Caleb replaced his midterm with that stupid test you guys made up," Haily responded, whipping her head around to get her long braid behind her as she sat next to me, cross-legged and started to pass out snow cones.

Joe laughed. "I remember that. Name four alternative words for breasts."

Chad chuckled, while Leanna raised one of her thin eyebrows at me.

"That one was Caleb's," I said. "Plus, Danner never proved it was us."

"That doesn't mean he didn't figure it out," Haily insisted. "I wouldn't worry, though, Nels. He'd never let either of you guys back in one of his classes."

That was probably true. But, I had a feeling that I had a better chance of getting into one of Mr. Danner's classes than I ever had getting back into Milo Trust's house.

...

Leanna and Chad didn't stay past three on Saturday. They'd told my mom that they'd be over for dinner, something that I was going to skip. The last weeks of my summer had been spent on community service, and regardless of whether I'd deserved it or not, I felt like those days had been wasted. Summers were very important. They were right up there with spring break and Christmas vacation. Sure, there were parties and events and otherwise suitable occasions to get together with friends and completely forget about having a single care in the world. But summer was not meant to be wasted. I had a day and a half of it left, and while it was so hot outside that even Caleb was willing to decline the beer that a few girls offered to us, and I was almost out of sunscreen, I was determined to have fun before I went home.

I started with swimming with Joe. Usually when Joe Douglas wasn't wasted or otherwise impaired, he could come off as a very serious individual. He'd never be caught wrestling with me and Caleb in the middle of the halls at school, or hawking giant loogies with Haily. But when he got in the water, Joe could be as rambunctious as the next, and given the attraction I'd always had towards him, I never turned down a swim with Joe. There was splashing and shoving and full body contact every time he got his arms around me. The highlight of last summer was in Teresa Milldrum's swimming pool when his hand had actually slipped up my shorts. Completely accidental, of course. But, it had been memorable for me.

Only today, I didn't feel the normal thrill that I would while wrestling around with Joe in the cool, teal water that came up to our necks. But, it wasn't the first time that I'd felt a lack of interest in him over the last few weeks. Ever since we were arrested my interest had been dwindling, but I reasoned that that was because Joe was just a crush, and now I seemed to have a new one in Milo Trust. Too bad that unlike Joe, Milo Trust couldn't stand me. There was still that painting, though. That explicit painting hidden in his room had my interest piqued. Perhaps I saw it as a sign of hope. Hope that I'd meet another gay guy before I turned fifty. Hell, it was possible that it could be even longer than that. The flamer who owned the bookstore was in his forties, and as far as I was aware, he was still alone.

I guess in all honesty, I wanted what my friends could have. Last year, Haily had two boyfriends. Neither of them had lasted beyond a week, but she'd still had them. She held their hands in the halls, she'd skipped out on hanging out with us so she could go out with them. Joe had done the same thing with the last girl he was dating. That relationship had been two months long and for at least half of it he'd walked around with a dreamy look in his eyes, and couldn't even mention the girl without smiling. And Caleb--well, Caleb was different. But, he had the option of having... someone. I wanted that. I'm not saying that I needed it. I could deal with being on my own, or with simply being happy for my friends. I wanted it, though. I was seventeen, and I'd decided that it was at least time to experience something more than I knew. The prospect of Milo Trust being gay was an exciting one. I just wished that there was a way of knowing for sure.

By the time that the sky had turned crimson and orange with sunset over Hangman Cove, most of the vendors were packing up for the day, and the crowd was thinning; but for many, the day was hardly over. In fact, some people were just arriving, mostly couples looking for a private place to enjoy one another's company. My friends and I, having been there most of the day, were able to claim a coveted spot beneath the old oak holding the scarecrow, close to the water; and as Joe tried to convince us to leave to go to a party not far from where we lived, on the Hill, Caleb finally made himself comfortable with a six pack. He offered Haily a beer; but not me, because I was designated; and not Joe, either, I noticed. Ever since we'd been arrested, Caleb had refused to give Joe anything. I suppose it was Caleb's way of letting Joe know that he wasn't forgiven for betraying everyone's trust, but Caleb otherwise treated him as he always treated him.

"It's dead here, anyway," Joe insisted. "Come on, Caleb, you know you want to get out of here. There's gonna be more girls at the party."

"Don't want to," Caleb said simply before he tilted his head back and guzzled down his drink. Haily and I exchanged glances, and then regarded him curiously.

"You don't want to go?" I asked Caleb.

He frowned at me, scratching at his head of wavy hair. "Do you?"

"Oh, great," Joe mumbled. "You'll go if he wants to?"

Everyone ignored the remark.

"No," I admitted, still facing Caleb. "But you don't want to?" It wasn't like Caleb to turn down a party.

"Nah," Caleb replied, shifting so that he was cross-legged as he dipped his fingers into a yellow bag of raisins that Haily, the only one of us who'd bothered to get dressed in her brown flannel shirt and jean shorts, was holding as she sat next to me. "There'll be more people here later. Plus, we hardly ever come here when school starts. I kinda just wanna hang out."

Joe rolled his eyes. "We come here all the time when school starts," he insisted, and technically, he was right. Generally we'd stop going on the weekends and start going in the afternoons, after school. A lot of kids did, especially after dances or even sport events, Hangman Cove was the place to be before winter came.

"Whatever," Caleb responded. "I don't feel like leaving right now."

"Me neither," Haily said, and Joe regarded her as if she'd betrayed him before he looked to me.

"You're driving, Nelson."

"I want to stay, too," I responded, and his handsome face pouted as he stood above all of us.

"Just sit down and relax," Haily insisted, grabbing Joe's hand to pull him down, and once he was seated with the three of us, Haily gave him a drink and as Joe relaxed the four of us started talking about what we thought of school starting on Monday.