When Dwight didn’t answer his son’s call, they made their way into the living room, which was next to the kitchen. The poorly decorated room had a cruddy dining table at the kitchen end, its surface smudged with numerous tanned rings from spilt morning coffees. A scungy brown lounge suite consisting of two small couches and an arm chair sat at the other end of the lounge. In front of the lounge suite was a cardboard box acting as a coffee table, with an overflowing ashtray sitting in its drooping, flimsy centre.
Josh called out again, but there was still no reply. They put their bags down on the floor beside the dining table, and made their way outside through the ranchslider door into the untamed backyard, overgrown with citrus trees and a neglected vegetable garden. At the very end of the property stood an old wooden shed that Dwight had converted into a sleep-out. This is where Josh and Levi would be sleeping. It was far enough away from the house that it guaranteed them enough privacy for the inevitable fuck they would be having later.
“Joshy, my boy! Happy birthday!”
Levi spun around and saw Dwight appear from around the side of the house. He was dressed in an outfit not dissimilar to Levi’s, consisting of ripped jeans and a baggy t-shirt. But the big difference was Levi’s clothes all came with labels, not like the cheap shit Dwight was wearing.
Dwight bowled on over to Josh and gave him a big hug, squeezing tight. When Dwight let go, he stepped back, looking his son up and down. “I can’t believe you’re twenty-fucking-one!” He shook his head in disbelief, which sent his messy fringe falling down in front of his eyes. He quickly huffed it back in place. “Seems like only yesterday you were sucking on ya mum’s tit.”
“Not an image I needed, Dad, but thanks,” Josh said, humouring his father.
There was no mistaking these two were father and son. Dwight may have had brown hair while Josh was a dark blond, but they were the same height and shared the same earthy brown eyes, tanned skin and their smiles were identical. Wide with perfectly straight teeth.
“How’s my favourite son doing?” Dwight slurred ever so slightly, giving away the fact that he’d already started drinking.
“Considering I’m you’re only son it ain’t like I can’t be your favourite.”
“I could have a thousand kids and you’d still be my favourite, Joshy.” Dwight grinned ear to ear. He glanced over at Levi as he rubbed his stubbled jaw. “Hey, Soggy. How’s it hanging?”
“It’s hanging well thanks, Dwight.” He didn’t bother referring to Josh’s father as Mr Stephenson. The guy was too much of a tool to be given that level of respect, and chances were he probably didn’t expect it.
“Based on what Lucas was just telling me earlier, it hangs small, shrivelled and to the left.”
Great. So now my penis is a hot topic between peasant lawnmower workers.
“Dad,” Josh groaned. “Don’t be a dork. Lucas talks a lot of shit.”
Dwight grinned at Levi. “I’m just pulling ya tits, Soggy. I was telling Lucas that you boys were coming up to stay tonight and he told me his Sophie used to date you before they shacked up together.”
“Yeah. Me and Sophie dated for a couple of years.”
“Until she craved something bigger?” Before Josh could tell his father off again, Dwight added. “It’s okay, Soggy. I wouldn’t believe a word that comes out of Lucas’s mouth. Never trust a man who goes on and on about having a big cock.” He shook his head. “Nice kid, but yeah, obsessed with his tackler.”
“Cheers, Dwight,” Levi said, slightly pleased to hear Dwight dismiss Lucas’s lies.
“No worries. Anyway, as I told Lucas, I’ve got better things to talk about than another bloke’s cock. I say, leave that sort of shit talk to the girls and the faggots.”
“You probably shouldn’t say that word, Dad.” Josh frowned disapprovingly.
“Why? What’s wrong with saying girl?”
Josh laughed. “No, the f word.”
Dwight snorted. “Your mother’s not around, Joshy, you don’t need to be all PC around here.” He flicked his eyes towards the house. “Would either of you two faggots like a drink?” He smirked, enjoying seeing his son look shocked.
Levi decided to play Dwight’s game. One of the man’s few good points was he let you give him as much shit as he dished out. If anything, he encouraged it. “A drink would be great thanks… turd burglar.”
Dwight’s mouth dropped open before a gravelly laugh came out. “That’s the spirit, Soggy! I sometimes forget that little rich boys like you can be funny.”