Rentboy

check on them.
    Wide awake in their king-size bed, the twins lay side by side in their matching Disney pajamas.
    They smiled when they saw him and, without a word, moved to the sides. They wanted him to get in
    bed with them. “How’s my favorite aliens?”
    The twins smiled.
    “Has he been in yet?” Fox asked as he unlaced his black Gravels and slipped them off.
    In unison, the twins shook their heads. Fox crawled onto the bed between them, and they rolled
    into his sides, resting their heads on his shoulders while he wrapped his arms around them.
    “Who’s going to be fourteen this summer?” he asked. They did not answer, and he did not expect
    them to. “Alder and Arden will be fourteen in August.” Fox kissed their foreheads and hugged them
    closer. The best present he could give them was to get their mum sober and their father into an early
    grave, and he was determined to do both.
    Last night someone had hugged him . No one ever hugged him except the twins. It had been so
    lovely to lie in Edward Atherton’s arms for hours. Fox had drifted off to sleep, and when he woke up,
    Eddie was still holding him. Not one of the stupid, so-called relationships he’d ever had had been
    satisfying. Other blokes just wanted sex. So what was wrong with Fox for wanting love as well? For
    some ill-advised reason that would get him nowhere, he had really liked the dude, even if he was a
    total and unqualified anorak.
    At the clomp of heavy boots on the landing, the twins stiffened against Fox. He swore he could
    feel their hearts beating faster.
    The door opened and William Baillie walked in, stopped, and took in the scene. Though he was
    no longer in the military, camouflage trousers and a dark green T-shirt remained his daily uniform.
    His hair was cut in a military-style crew cut.
    “You two morons get out of bed and get dressed.”
    Alder and Arden scrambled from the bed, shedding their pajamas as they ran for the bathroom,
    their long, thick hair flying behind them. They were as blond as Fox had been before he’d dyed his
    hair black.
    “Fox, get down to the kitchen. I want to talk to you.”
    “All right.” Slowly he got up off the bed, wishing his father would leave the room so he didn’t
    have to pass him to get to the door. Depending on William Baillie’s mood, Fox could get a smack
    across the head as soon as he was within arm’s reach.
    “Say ‘Yes, sir’ when you talk to me. Do you hear me, lad?”
    “Yes, sir.” Cautiously he skirted the room, and when he was within reach of his father’s hand, he
    picked up speed and headed for the stairs, careful not to slip in his socked feet. He could hear his
    father laughing as he followed him downstairs.
    “Make me a cup of tea, boy.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Without looking at him, Fox plugged in the kettle. “Do you want something to eat, sir?”
    “I had my breakfast at half past five before I went out for my run.” William Baillie was
    extremely fit and very strong. Fox could testify to that, having been on the receiving end of his father’s
    fists and belt more times than he could count. But it was when his father beat the twins that Fox
    wanted to kill him.
    In the center of the big kitchen was a large island with a counter and stools and a food-
    preparation area. Fox got out two bowls and filled them with cereal, then poured two glasses of milk.
    The twins did not like their foods touching and always ate dry cereal with their milk in a glass.
    Without a sound, the twins entered the kitchen, holding hands as they always did, and barefoot,
    which didn’t matter since they rarely ventured beyond the garden. They wore matching jeans and
    black T-shirts on their thin bodies. Still damp from the shower, their long hair trailed down their
    backs to their waists. Two pairs of identical blue eyes glanced warily at William Baillie before the
    twins edged around the island to stand beside Fox.
    “There’s your brekkie,” Fox said. “Get your laughing gear round that.” They sat side by side,
    their bodies touching as if they were conjoined, eating cereal with their hands, drinking milk between
    mouthfuls.
    When the tea was dark and strong enough, Fox set the mug in front of his father and poured a
    glass of orange juice for himself. At the counter he took a knife and sliced a banana, which he set on a
    separate plate in front of the twins. Without acknowledging him, they began to eat the banana.
    With an ugly sneer on his face, Baillie took a long