Free Xylophone by K.Z. Snow

out after a few months. If I hadn’t been
    with GG by then and she hadn’t pushed me into that
    program, I would’ve boozed my way into
    oblivion.”
    “Did you, uh, discuss the abuse in rehab?”
    The cold night air seeped more noticeably
    into the car. Jonah wrapped his arms around his
    ribcage. “No. I wasn’t ready to. It was hard enough
    just admitting to my drinking problem and the
    promiscuity.”
    “Oh, so that’s what you meant when I asked
    if you were gay. First you said no, then you said
    you didn’t know, then you said something about
    having been too fucked up to figure it out.”
    The color in Jonah’s cheeks seemed to
    deepen. “Yeah, that’s the time I was referring to.
    I’d get blasted and have sex with anything that
    moved, then at some point I’d black out. After
    rehab I just avoided the whole issue. I had to focus
    on staying sober.” He gave Dare a sidelong glance.
    “That’s why I admire you. You haven’t avoided
    the issue. You didn’t let—what was his name?
    Howard?—turn you into some simpering, growth-
    stunted eunuch.”
    “Hey.” Dare give Jonah’s thigh a light shake,
    just enough to secure his attention. “First of all, it’s
    perfectly understandable how that experience
    twisted your self-image out of alignment. You
    were only eleven when that prick got a hold on
    you. You were like Silly Putty. Second, I’m not as
    well-adjusted as you think I am. And third,
    although I can’t speak with absolute authority on
    this”—Dare managed a smile, but it felt too tense
    to be jocular—“I’ll venture to say you’re not a
    eunuch.”
    Jonah’s left leg began to bounce, rapidly, his
    heel tapping against the floor mat as if a muscle
    spasm had seized his foot. He glued his gaze to the
    dashboard. Just as Dare began to think, despite
    how loony the thought was, Oh shit, maybe
    something happened to him and he actually has
    been castrated , Jonah abruptly stopped jiggling
    and spoke. To the windshield. As if Dare were
    sitting on the hood of the car.
    “I realized something at the Zandt Pavilion,
    even though I didn’t want to admit it to myself. I
    was attracted to you. And tonight I realized
    something that rattled me even more. You really
    fuckin’ turn me on, Dare. And it scares the hell out
    of me.”
    Chapter Ten
    THIS was not supposed to happen. This seemed
    like a boxcar full of wrong for all kinds of reasons,
    not the least of which was their reason for getting
    together in the first place.
    Jonah had excused himself and bolted from
    Dare’s car after his confession—he never did get
    around to asking that “personal” question—and
    Dare had pretty much obsessed about it all the way
    home and halfway through the night. The following
    morning, as he prepared for his Sunday gig with
    the Polka Doodles, his nerves squirmed.
    Sure, he’d entertained some lewd thoughts
    about Jonah Day. But they’d been harmless,
    divorced from any intention to act. He’d had
    similar fantasies about a lot of guys.
    Why couldn’t Jonah have kept his damned
    desires to himself, as Dare had been doing?
    “Get my tie on straight, would you?” he asked
    Carver, who’d just come out of the downstairs
    bathroom.
    Carver made a lazy U-turn and shuffled up to
    Dare. Staring at the tie, he scowled. “It’s a fucking
    clip-on, Daren.”
    “Just make sure it’s straight, will you?”
    “What’d you do? Sprain your hand while you
    were beating off last night? I heard you groaning.
    Must’ve been a good one.”
    “I couldn’t’ve beat off if I’d been using Brent
    Corrigan’s hand.” Dare figured he must’ve been
    groaning in dismay or frustration as he flipped
    from side to side and thought about Jonah. Carver,
    of course, being the coat tree he was, wouldn’t be
    able to distinguish one kind of groan from another
    if they all crawled up his ass with descriptions of
    themselves.
    After fixing Dare’s tie, the coat tree futzed
    with his bathrobe, looking down at