Read Online Sunset Park by Santino Hassell - Free Book Online Page A

cop guy. I was, like, what the hell? I thought you was bringing Ray to the party?”
    Raymond grabbed the ball and bounced it against the concrete. The muscles in his arm flexed each time it slapped against his palm.
    “I didn’t know they’d been hanging out for years,” I said.
    “Yup. Off and on since we was in high school. I thought for sure they’d get married or he’d knock her up or something.”
    “Well, as Beyoncé said,” I started, “he should have put a ring on it.”
    “Raymond can’t afford no ring.”
    The bouncing stopped. Raymond grabbed Chris’s shoulder and shoved him in the direction of the entrance. “Why don’t you go get yourself a fucking ice cream cone?”
    “Hey, good idea!” Chris grinned again, wider and more mischievous than before. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. “You want anything, David?”
    “¡Vete, pendejo!” Raymond gave Chris a harsher shove. He glared at his friend’s back until Chris sauntered off toward the ice cream truck. Raymond picked up a sleeveless jersey from the ground, yanked it over his head, and indicated for me to follow him.
    “What are you doing here?”
    “I wanted to surprise you.”
    Raymond led me in the opposite direction Chris had gone. “Congrats. You surprised me.”
    “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know my presence was offensive. I tried to un-gay myself for you and everything!”
    “Uh-huh. Yeah. Un-gay.” Raymond reached out to tug one of the belt loops in my skinny jeans, illustrating how poor my effort had been. “You and your Beyoncé quotes.”
    He had a point.
    “Fine. I’m sorry I showed up. I know you don’t want me around your friends.”
    Raymond kept walking, and I wondered what the big deal was. I’d basically outed myself to Chris, and the guy hadn’t batted an eyelash. Unless he’d thought I was just going along with the joke. Besides, if these people had grown up with Raymond, they’d also grown up with Michael. I didn’t understand why Raymond would be ashamed of an openly gay roommate when he’d grown up with a gay older brother. I added it to my list of to-be-solved Raymond mysteries and told myself not to get hung up on it, but my spirits sank anyway. I’d begged him for months to meet my friends, and he couldn’t even bear the idea of me exchanging a few words with one of his.
    I kept my eyes on my shoes, strongly debated going back home alone, and wondered why I hadn’t seen this coming before blissfully hopping on the train. I was so busy moping that I kept moodily examining my shabby shoes when he stopped walking for a moment. He was probably trying to find the quickest and most deserted route out of the park and to his house so nobody else would see me.
    “Here.”
    I looked up to find a small paper cup full of shaved ice shoved in my face.
    “Take it, motherfucker.”
    “Oh! Sorry.” I took the cup and glanced at the vendor. He was scraping away at a block of ice for Raymond’s cup.
    I was basic enough to allow a mouthful of coconut-and-cherry-flavored ice to chase away my sorrows. If Raymond was ashamed of me, he wouldn’t be buying me piraguas, would he?
    “I love these.”
    “I know.” Raymond gave the vendor three bucks and started walking again. “And they don’t have them near where you live now.”
    “Maybe in Sunset,” I said.
    “Doubt it. You’re more likely to find a churro vendor over there.”
    “That’s true.”
    I followed him to one of the park’s few gazebos—a construction in serious need of sprucing up but still a welcome relief from the burning sun. We settled on the scarred, wooden floor. He leaned against the wall and finished his ice, looking at me without voicing his thoughts. He did it a lot. Kept all of his opinions and thoughts to himself unless it was absolutely necessary to divulge them. Or unless it was rude, and he felt like being an ass.
    Raymond was one of those people who held direct eye contact for long periods of time without the barest hint of