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The Way You Say My Name Ch. 01

By: wavyscribe



There were certain things in this universe that could always be counted on. The smell of old socks coming from the boy’s locker room. The pack of giggling females that crowded around the first-string quarterback as he slid down the hall. And the way Dillon Carver’s heart slammed against his chest every time he saw Jamie Walker. James, he mentally corrected himself. He’d long ago lost the right to call him Jamie. But if God was as merciful as the preacher of the First Christian Church of Reed claimed, he’d get it back.

Dillon watched from his own locker two rows down the hall as James loaded books into his backpack. His white blond hair was in need of a good combing, as usual, but the haphazard style suited him. The sight of James’s lean body, even encased in those baggy jeans, was enough to cause an involuntary tightening just below Dillon’s belt. Jamie might be short--not an inch over five-foot-six--but he had long, muscular legs. Legs that had once wrapped around Dillon and held him as his body shuddered with release. With a bitter pang of regret, Dillon wondered how many times those legs had preformed that same service for Ben Lewis.

“You’re gonna wear a hole in that boy with your eyes if you keep staring at him like that.”

Dillon turned to see Megan Nash leaning against one of the lockers, her blue eyes watching him. 

“I didn’t mean to stare. I was just wondering where his pet dick head is.” Hopefully, he slithered back under a rock.

“You mean Ben?”

Dillon snorted. “Who else? He and Jamie are more or less joined these days.” He just hoped that wasn’t the case, literally.

Megan tilted her head, her fiery curls trailing across her right shoulder. “I know you’re less than thrilled about James and Ben, but if you keep staring at him like that, everyone is going to know.”

Dillon shrugged. “Screw ‘em. They’ll know soon enough, anyway.”

“Maybe, but I think it would be better to stick to the plan. It will be easier on you if you do this at your own place.”

Dillon took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You know, I hate the fact that you’re always right.”

“Hardly. But having three gay brothers does make me a bit of an expert on this particular subject. Not to mention assorted cousins and poor relations.”

Dillon raised his brows. “Three gay brothers?”

“When Brandon married Nate, he became my brother, too.”

Dillon held up his index and middle fingers. “That’s two. Who’s the other one?”

“Randy. He came out to all of us just before the wedding.”

“Only in your family could that ever happen.” He laughed, but he envied Megan her family. Her brother, Brandon, was the sheriff of Reed. He was also openly gay, and had just married his partner, Nathan. Nate had even taken Brandon’s name after the ceremony. He could only hope he’d be that lucky some day. Of course, it was Megan’s parents Dillon envied the most. They loved their children unconditionally, unlike Douglas and Angela Carver. He was so caught up in his thoughts, he didn’t realize Megan was still speaking to him.

“So, are we still on for the dance tonight?”

Dillon groaned. “I don’t know, Meggie. I was gonna ask Jim at the pharmacy if I could work tonight. When my folks throw me out, I’m gonna need all the money I can get.”

“You work plenty. What you need is one night to just be normal, something to take your mind off your troubles. What better way to do that than to spend the evening with yours truly, dancing that cute little butt off?”

Dillon closed his locker. “You’re deranged, you know that?” 

The last bell rang and Megan started for the door. As she went, she said, “Maybe, but it’s all part of my charm. You know you love me.”

Dillon laughed as he followed her out. “Yeah, yeah. I love you, though God only knows why I do.” He and Megan went outside, and Dillon never saw the look of pain in Jamie’s eyes as he went past.

      # 

Jamie watched from the corner of his eye as Dillon and Megan walked by, laughing and talking as if the rest of the world didn’t exist. As if he didn’t exist. When he heard Dillon tell Megan he loved her, he actually wished he didn’t. Knowing the two of them were together was bad enough, but to have it thrown in his face was almost more than he could bear. Before he had time to work up a decent depression, though, he felt a familiar arm glide around his shoulders. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Are you pervin’ on me in the middle of the hall?”

Ben laughed and moved back to lean against the wall. “Nah. I figure after two years of trying to get into your pants only to have you resist my considerable assets at every turn, sex with you just ain’t gonna happen. Besides, we’d have to exorcise the spirit of Dillon Carver from your soul, and I’m fresh out of holy water.”

Jamie looked around the hall to see if anyone heard. “Keep it down, man. Someone might be listening.”

Ben shook his head. “I don’t know why you work so hard to front for that prick after what he did to you.” Jamie started to speak, but Ben cut him off. “Never mind. I’ve heard it all before, and we’re never gonna agree.” His face softened. “You know I’ll never tell anybody, J. Your secrets are safe with me.” His face took on that cocky grin. “Anyway, since you aren’t gonna let me get you into bed, I guess I’ll just have to settle for the thrill of being close to you.”

“You are so full of shit.”

“You didn’t think my eyes were this brown naturally, did you?” He jerked his spiky, black-haired head in the direction Dillon and Megan had taken. “I see Mr. and Mrs. Plunkett High are still going strong.”

Jamie shrugged, determined not to think about it any more than he had to. “I guess they make each other happy. They’ve been together for almost four months now.”

“Hey, if Dillon wants to play it straight, more power to him. If I was into chicks, I might go after Megan Nash myself. As much trouble as I’ve been in, it sure wouldn’t hurt to be banging the sheriff’s sister.” He heaved his six-foot-two-inch body away from the wall. “But since I haven’t found a girl yet who can rev up my engine, I guess I’ll just stick with what I’ve got.”

Jamie closed his locker and clicked the lock into place. “Ah, yes, the mystery man. Am I ever gonna get to meet this guy?”

Ben put his arm back around Jamie’s shoulders and led him towards the door. “Patience, young Walker. In time, all will be revealed.”

“No more Star Wars flicks for you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ben led him into the parking lot. “I can’t tell you anything about him just yet, J. He’s not ‘out.’ Besides, we’re keeping it casual. He and I are both free to date other people.” He grinned. “That reminds me. Are you gonna go to that Valentine’s mixer thing tomorrow night?”

Jamie grimaced. “I’ve got to. The Gay-Straight Alliance is hosting the thing. Since I’m the president of the G.S.A., I have to at least put in an appearance.”

“How did the G.S.A. get stuck putting on a dance?”

“Principal Morgan insisted. He thought it would help boost Plunkett High’s ‘gay friendly’ image. He wants the world to know that gay and lesbian students are free to express themselves, whatever the hell that means. He says the city of Reed has a reputation as being ultra hospitable to homosexuals, so it’s up to us as the next generation to further that rep.” He shrugged. “At least ten same-sex couples have signed up to go, so it must be working.”

Ben nodded and motioned Jamie over towards his car. The 1985 Firebird was Ben’s baby. Every dime he earned doing odd jobs for his foster mother went into the sleek, black beauty. Not for the first time, Jamie wished he weren’t so scared of learning how to drive.  

Ben broke into his thoughts. “You gonna stand around all day, or are you gonna get in the car?”

“I hear ya.” Jamie opened the car door and sank down into the bucket seat. He closed the door behind him and waited until Ben was seated behind the wheel before saying, “Weren’t you about to ask me something?”

Ben turned to better see him. “Oh, yeah. I was thinking, since you have to go to that dance tonight, anyway, maybe you and I could go together.”

“You mean, like a date?”

“Well, yeah, but just as friends. If a guy can’t go to a dance with his best friend, what’s the world coming to?”

“What about the guy you’re seeing? Won’t he care?”

“Nah. Like I told you, him and me, we’re casual. Besides, it’ll give us a chance to rub our presence in Dillon Carver’s face.”

“Ben--”

“Look, J, the guy fucked you over six ways from Sunday. The least you can do is show him that you aren’t pining away for him while he’s off playing the happy hetero.”

In spite of the present topic, Jamie found himself laughing. “You do have a way with words.” He looked down at his hands for a full minute before looking back up at Ben. “All right, then. If you really want to do this, you’ve got yourself a date.”

Ben pumped his hand twice in victory and started the car.

      #

Jamie’s Great-aunt Sadie was waiting in the archaic kitchen when he got home. He dropped his backpack into a near-by chair and bent to kiss her wrinkled cheek.

Sadie smiled up at him, her green eyes crinkling at the corners. “So, how was school?”

Jamie went to the fridge and scrounged around until he found what he was looking for. He slapped together three ham sandwiches, grabbed a bottle of Coke from the door, and closed the refrigerator with his foot. He settled into the chair next to his aunt and crammed his mouth full of sandwich. It wasn’t until he was half-way through the first sandwich that he realized he’d been asked a question.

“School was okay. Same as always.” This he said around a mouthful of ham and cheese on rye.

Aunt Sadie clicked her tongue. “For heaven’s sake, Jamie, you don’t have to gobble your food down in such a way. No one is going to take it away from you.” She stared at him for a moment, then said, “So, do you have plans for this evening?”

Jamie swallowed hard, almost choking on a large chunk of bread. Here came the tricky part. “Yes, ma’am. I’m going to the Valentine’s Dance with Ben.”

Aunt Sadie made a grumbling trek across the black and white tile floor on her way to the white porcelain double-sink. Jamie winced at the sound of banging pots and pans, but it was nothing he wasn’t used to. The Queen Ann home Sadie inherited from her father had seen more than one of her hissy fits. After a full two minutes of dish rattling and pan tossing, Sadie turned back to Jamie and said, “I wish you could tell me what you see in that hooligan.”

Jamie almost laughed at Sadie’s old fashioned term for Ben. Her short, iron-gray curls had frizzed up during her tirade, framing her face like a halo. At four-foot-ten, even Jamie towered over her. He couldn’t help but marvel at how lucky he was to have ended up with her instead of in a foster home like Ben. Instead of laughing, he said, “If you don’t want me to go with him, I won’t.” It was a bluff, and they both knew it.

“You know better than that. You’re eighteen years old, and I figure that makes you old enough to pick your own friends. I just wish you had someone in your life besides Ben.”

Jamie took a hefty swig of his drink. “Ben’s a good guy. He just hasn’t had the same advantages as the rest of us.”

Sadie shook her head. “Not having had parents doesn’t give him the right to do half the things he’s done since Nora Slater took him into her home. You’d think he’d be grateful to even have a home after more or less living on the streets, but if he is, he certainly doesn’t show it. Why she didn’t send him packing the day he turned eighteen is beyond me.”

Jamie stared down at the scarred surface of the ancient table. “Well, in that case, why didn’t you send me packing when I turned eighteen?”

“James Winston Walker!” Aunt Sadie put down the bowl she’d been holding and came back to the table. Using one short finger, she tilted Jamie’s chin so he was looking directly at her. “How can you even ask me that?”

Jamie shrugged. “It’s a legitimate question. If Ben deserves to be thrown out of the only home he’s had for the past three years, then why don’t I deserve the same treatment. I’ve been sponging off you for a heck of a lot longer than three years. At least Nora got paid by the state to look after Ben. What did you get when my mom dropped me in your lap and took off fourteen years ago?” 

Sadie released his chin and sat down in the chair next to his. “I got you, and I’ve never regretted it, not for an instant. I was fifty years old and had given up hope of ever having children of my own, spinster that I was. I’d just lost my only sister--your grandmother--to cancer, and my parents were long since gone. I just assumed I’d spend the rest of my days alone. You changed all that. I’ve cursed my niece a thousand times for choosing drugs and that worthless boyfriend of hers over her own child, but not a day goes by that I don’t thank her for bringing you to me.” 

“Then why doesn’t Ben deserve the same chance I’ve been given?”

Sadie stood up and smoothed the wrinkles out of her slacks. “I’ll do my best to get along with him, Jamie, for your sake. But if he hurts you, he’ll answer to me.” She paused. “I wish you and Dillon could have patched up your friendship. He was a good influence on you. You were always so happy when the two of you were together.”

Jamie held back a sigh. “It was Dillon’s choice to end the,” he forced himself to say it, “friendship, Aunt Sadie. There’s nothing I can do about it.”

“I just can’t believe Dillon would break off a twelve year friendship just because you ‘came out.’ So what if you are gay? You’re still you.”

She didn’t know the half of it, and he wasn’t about to enlighten her. He couldn’t resist ribbing her a little bit, though. “You didn’t exactly jump for joy when I first told you, either.”

“Nonsense. I admit, I was shocked at first. And I’m still not sure I understand it, exactly.” She gave him a warm smile. “But I love you for who you are, not for who you’re attracted to.”

Jamie nodded. “I know that. But Ben is a part of who I am. When Dillon dropped me, Ben was there. He’s never once let me down, and I refuse to turn my back on him just because he’s gotten into a patch of trouble here and there.” Aunt Sadie started to object, but Jamie said, “Just give him the benefit of the doubt. Please? For me?”

Aunt Sadie sighed and gave in.

      #

Dillon stuffed the college acceptance papers into his desk drawer and locked it. He’d done it. He’d been accepted to Garman College in upstate New York. It was prestigious, private, and known for its policies protecting gay and lesbian students. It was also James Walker’s school of choice. Even if--more like, when--his parents cut him off, he’d still be able to swing tuition, room, and board with student loans and the college fund his parents had made the mistake of putting solely in his name. Now that he was eighteen, the money was his. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough. It had to be. He could get a part time job to pay for books and living expenses, but he had to be close to Jamie. Living a lie was just no longer an option.

He glanced at the clock. Half-past five. He really should think about getting ready if he was gonna pick Megan up at seven. He was just about to hop in the shower when the phone rang. He grabbed the cordless and said, “Yeah?”

“Great phone manners, Carver.”

“Since when did you give a rat’s ass about manners, Barnes? Aren’t you the same guy who can belch the Star Spangled Banner in three octaves?”

“Hey, a guy’s got to have a talent. There’s more to Mr. Ashton Barnes the Third than the handsome, athletic specimen I present to the world. I believe in being well rounded.”

“Uh, huh. So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this phone call?” He and Ash were friends, but phone conversations were few and far between. He knew for sure something was up when Ash’s voice dropped and all traces of the teasing tone he’d answered with disappeared.

“I heard some of the guys talking this afternoon at Hailey’s. I stopped off to get a bite to eat after school and heard Rooster and some of the rest planning something for tonight.”

Dillon’s body went rigid. Rooster was Roy Carmichael, the biggest homophobe on campus. If he was involved, it couldn’t be good. “What kind of something?”

“I’m not sure. They shut their traps when they realized I was listening, but I’m pretty sure I heard the word ‘fag’ mentioned more than once. My guess is they’re pissed about the G.S.A. hosting that thing tonight and looking to stir up some trouble.”

Dillon tapped his fingers on the back of the receiver. “Why did you call me? Why not Morgan or one of the teachers?”

He could hear Ash swallowing. “Because I know you and James Walker used to be tight. I thought you might know how to get in touch with him. I was afraid to do it myself. I don’t want anyone to think. . .”

“You’re afraid everyone will think you’re gay if you get caught sticking up for a bunch of gay guys. Is that it?”

Ash went on the defensive. “Look, Dillon, I was trying to help. I should have known better than to come to you with this. I don’t want to see anybody get hurt, but I could have guessed you wouldn’t care. Everyone knows you ditched James the minute he came out. I’ll handle it myself.”

“Wait.” Ash didn’t hang up, so Dillon took that as his cue to continue. “I’m sorry, man. I’ll handle it. You did the right thing by calling me. Thanks.” There were only two things he could do, hang up, or change the subject. He went for the subject change. “So, you got a hot date tonight?”

“Yep. Chad and I are doubling with Blair Dees and Nina Ivan.”

Dillon shook his head. The two easiest girls in school. He should have known, given Ash’s reputation with the ladies. “Who gets who?”

Ash snorted. “Who cares? We’re only going to be at that lame-ass dance long enough to put in an appearance, anyway. Then it’s straight down to Pepper Road. You taking Megan?”

“Yep. I was on my way into the shower when you called.”

“Hey, don’t let me keep you. I had P.E. with you three years running. I know how nasty those pits of yours get. I’ll catch you tonight. And Carver?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry for what I said. About you dropping James, I mean.”

“Hey, the truth’s the truth. You and me, we’re good.”

“Sweet. See you tonight.”

Dillon disconnected and debated his next move. He could call Principal Morgan directly, or any one of a dozen teachers. But as president of the G.S.A., it was pretty much Jamie’s call. He picked the phone back up and punched in the familiar numbers. Even after two years, his fingers wove an automatic pattern over the keys.

Jamie answered on the second ring, his voice rich and smooth. “Hello?”

Dillon’s mind went blank. Hearing Jamie’s voice did something to him. Jamie said hello twice more before Dillon was able to say, “James?”

“Yeah, this is James.” A pause. “Dillon? Is that you?” 

“Ah, yeah. Have you got a minute?”

The surprise Dillon had first heard turned to wariness. “Just one. What do you need?”

If only he knew what Dillon needed. But he couldn’t tell him. Not yet. Instead, he said, “I just got a call from one of the guys at school. He seems to think there’s gonna be some trouble at the dance tonight.” He repeated what Ash had said, without giving away his identity. 

When he was finished, Jamie said, “Why?”

“I don’t know. I guess some guys just like to start trouble.”

“That’s not what I meant. I want to know why you’re calling me with this.”

“I told you, some guys are planning on starting trouble. I thought you’d want to know.”

“Not to seem ungrateful, but since when do you care what happens to a bunch of queers?”

Damn. “Jamie, I--”

“Look, Dillon, I’ve gotta go. Thanks for the info. I’ll pass it along.” He hung up before Dillon could say another word.

      #

Jamie couldn’t help but laugh at Ben’s choice of attire. The dance wasn’t formal, by any means, but somehow he doubted Ben’s ripped jeans, black leather jacket, and white wife-beater were what the dance committee had in mind when they recommended casual wear. Jamie looked down at his black pants and his dark blue button-front shirt. “Why is it I always feel overdressed when you’re around?”


The Way You Say My Name Ch. 01



“Probably because you are. Looks good on you, though.” He stood in the doorway, giving Jamie a good looking over. “Are you ready to go, or do we need to say goodbye to your aunt first?”

“I’m ready.”

“Good. Now, you wanna tell me why we have to be there so damn early? You were a little hazy on the phone.”

“I got a phone call warning me there was gonna be trouble tonight. I called Principle Morgan and he suggested an emergency meeting of the G.S.A. and the Student Council to decide how we want to handle it.”

“A phone call, huh? Who from?”

Jamie hesitated. “Dillon Carver.”

Ben whistled. “Carver, huh? Wonder what he’s up to?”

Jamie shrugged, trying his best to cover the confusion and longing inside him. “Who cares as long as we stop it before it starts. Besides, Dillon is on the student Council, so maybe he’ll enlighten us.” And Jamie would have an excuse to look at him outright without having to sneak glances when no one was looking.

Ben said. “If you say so.” He pointed to his car as Jamie pulled on his coat. “Your chariot awaits.”

Jamie closed the door but paused on his way to the car. “You sure you don’t mind going in early? I can get Aunt Sadie to drop me off.”

“Nah. It’s not like I have anything better to do.” He kept walking. “When are you gonna let me teach you how to drive?”

Jamie shuddered. “Ain’t gonna happen, my friend. I told you what happened when Aunt Sadie tried to teach me. I froze.”

“We can work on that.” The expression of horror on Jamie’s face was so comical, Ben laughed. “Alright, chicken, get in the car. But this conversation is far from over.”

Jamie just shook his head and got in.

      #

As usual at these meetings, the Student Council members sat on one side of the oak conference table in Principle Morgan’s office and the G.S.A. officers sat on the other. Dillon, as Student Council vice president, sat next to Megan, the president. The other members of both groups wandered in a few at a time and started filling in the empty seats. Dan Morgan came in a few minutes later. 

“I want to thank all of you for coming in early, and I assure you, we’ll make this as brief as possible.” His wavy brown hair didn’t so much as sway when he stood up to take his place behind the lectern at the head of the table. Dillon wondered for the hundredth time if the guy used hairspray. He watched as Morgan’s brown eyes took on a dull shine under the fluorescent lights. It wasn’t that Morgan was bad looking. He was actually kind of attractive in a between thirty-five and forty-ish sort of way. He filled out the black pants and gray turtleneck shirt he was wearing as well as any G.Q. model ever could. But there was something about him that struck Dillon as false, no matter how good he looked. Maybe it was the wooden smile he almost always wore. Or maybe it was that he tried just a little too hard to convince everyone that he was the poster boy for gay acceptance. Whatever it was, he gave Dillon a weird vibe. 

Dillon’s gut tightened as Jamie ran in, Ben Lewis on his heels. He collapsed into a chair not far from Morgan and motioned for Ben to sit next to him. “Sorry we’re late.”

“No problem, James. We were just getting started.” Morgan leaned into the podium. “Before we start--yes, Dillon? Was there something you wanted to say? I saw your hand go up.”

“Yes, sir. If this is supposed to be a meeting of the G.S.A. and the Council, then what is he doing here?” He looked at Ben as if he were a squished bug on the bottom of his shoe.

Before Morgan could answer, Jamie said, “He has a name. Ben is my date, and he’s here because I asked him to be.”

Dillon felt the word date like a heart punch, but he’d be damned if he’d let it show. “I don’t care whose date he is, he shouldn’t be in here.”

Ben shrugged. “If you want me out, Carver, you can always come over here and throw me out.”

Dillon started to rise, but Megan grabbed at his hand. “No,” she whispered. “Remember the plan. Don’t blow it now.”

Principle Morgan cleared his throat. “I suggest we get back to the reason why we’re here in the first place. Since these are special circumstances, Mr. Lewis can stay. But I’m warning you both,” he looked back and forth between Dillon and Ben, “If I hear any more threats from either one of you, you’ll both be out of here and on your way to a three day in-school suspension. Am I clear?” They both nodded. When Morgan moved on to the business at hand, Ben shot Dillon a smug smile that made Dillon’s fingers itch. He couldn’t remember ever wanting to hit anyone so bad in his life.

Morgan tapped on the podium. “Now that we have that settled, I must inform you of the distinct possibility that we may have trouble tonight.” Several of the students started speaking at once, but Morgan put up his hand for silence. “We don’t know anything for certain, but there’s a good possibility that our gay and lesbian students may be targeted. That’s why I’ve called the sheriff and asked him to send some men over to patrol tonight.” A murmur of complaints rose, but again Morgan threw up his hand. “I’m sorry if this cramps your style, but we have to send a message that bigotry of any kind will not be tolerated here at Plunkett.” He turned to Jamie. “James, I want you to be especially careful. If these guys are upset about the fact that the dance is being hosted by the G.S.A., you’re the most natural target.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Morgan. I’ve got Jamie’s back. He’s in good hands with me. And I won’t let him out of my sight. I’m gonna be all over him.” There was so much sexual innuendo in what Ben said, several girls giggled, Jamie blushed, and Dillon gnashed his teeth until his gums hurt.

Morgan tugged at his collar. “Yes. . .well, I appreciate that, Ben, but we’ll let the sheriff’s men do their job.” He looked down at his watch before readdressing the room. “If there’s nothing further, you’re free to go. I want you all to enjoy yourselves, but please be careful, and remember to report anything suspicious.”

The room emptied shortly thereafter. Dillon and Megan were on the side opposite the door, so they were among the last to leave. Dillon was forced to watch as Ben took Jamie‘s hand and led him out. He felt Megan rubbing his arm through the flannel shirt he wore over his black t-shirt, in a gesture he was sure meant to soothe, but he was beyond comfort. The one thing he wanted more than anything else in the universe belonged to someone else. What in the hell was he supposed to do now?

      #

The darkened gym vibrated with one rock ballad after another while crepe paper hearts littered the floor. Not even the sight of no less than four men in police uniform had killed the romantic mood, if the throng of couples making out all across the dance floor were any indication. Ben pointed to a private spot on the edge of the dance floor. He gave Jamie a mock bow. “Can I have this dance?”

Jamie swallowed, hard. “I’ve never, uh. . .danced, before. Not really, anyway. I’m not sure I know how.”

Ben shook his head. “Anybody can slow dance, J.” He held out his arms. “Just lean into me and follow my lead.”

Jamie’s mind was a swirl of confusion. He couldn’t understand this change in Ben. For two years, all his advances were playful, only half-serious. Tonight was different. From the minute they walked into Principal Morgan’s office, Ben started treating him like private property. He was about to ask him about it when Ben said, “Come on, J. You know you can trust me. It’s just a dance.”

Jamie gave up and walked towards him. Ben circled his arms around Jamie’s waist and began to rock his hips with the music, leaving Jamie to follow. Ben laughed. “See, this isn’t so bad, is it?”

“Nah. It’s kinda nice, actually.” And it was. It had been two years since another guy had touched him, other than the occasional handshake or slap on the back. Dillon had been the first, and the only. And even with Dillon, the touching had been limited. Dillon’s main focus had been to get off, to gain pleasure only for himself. Dillon had never even kissed him. Jamie had been the giver in everything from oral sex to jacking off. The only time Dillon ever touched him in an intimate way was to prepare him for sex, and then it was minimal. Dillon topped him, got what he was after, and was done, leaving Jamie to take care of himself if Dillon got off before he did. God, he’d been such an idiot.

Ben peered down into Jamie’s eyes. “What are you thinkin’ about?”

“Just about what a jerk I was two years ago.”

“You mean with Carver?”

“Yeah.”

Ben’s hand made circles back and forth over the small of Jamie’s back. “You got that backwards, J. Carver was the jerk, not you. The guy didn’t deserve you.” His voice fell to a whisper, barely audible above the roar of the music. “I wish to God I’d met you first.”

Jamie started to speak, but Ben put one long finger against Jamie’s lips. “Shh. I know you don’t feel that way about me, and it’s okay. At least let me show you what you’re missing.” And before Jamie could protest, Ben lowered his head and covered Jamie’s mouth with his own.

      #

Dillon watched in something akin to horror as Ben rammed his tongue down Jamie’s throat. If he’d had any doubts about their relationship before, he sure as hell didn’t now. Losing Jamie to Lewis might be no less than he deserved for being such a selfish bastard, but he’d be damned if he’d go down without a fight. He and Megan were dancing not fifteen feet away from where the other couple stood, but when Ben started making out with Jamie, Dillon stopped and just stared, his whole body rigid. Megan turned around to see what was going on and put her hand over her mouth.

“Oh my God.” She turned back to Dillon. “Are you okay?”

“Peachy as hell.”

“Dillon--”

He moved back. “I can’t do this. I’m not gonna stand here and do nothing while Lewis takes him away from me, Megan. I’ve waited too damn long to give up now.” He watched as Jamie pulled away from Ben and stepped off the dance floor, heading towards the men’s bathroom. He started forward, but Megan put her hand on his arm.

“What are you gonna do?”

Dillon ran his fingers through his hair. “I have to talk to him, Meggie. If I wait any longer, it’s gonna be too late. It may be already, as far as that goes, but I have to try.” He broke away from her grasp and headed in the direction Jamie had gone. He thought he heard her mumble something like “so much for the plan,” but right now he could care less about any plan. All he knew for sure was that he had to talk to Jamie, and he had to do it now. 



He opened the bathroom door and found Jamie bent over one of the sinks, splashing water on his face. The pants Jamie was wearing molded to his body, making Dillon want more than anything else at that minute to brush up against him, to feel the soft curves for himself. He forced that thought out of his mind. He had to take it slow. The last thing he wanted to do was scare Jamie away.

Dillon moved as quietly as possible to where Jamie stood and pulled a paper towel off the roll. The clicking of the dispenser caused Jamie to pop up in a sudden motion that sent water trailing down his neck. Dillon took advantage of Jamie’s surprise and used the paper towel to sponge the water off his face. He followed one small bead down into the hollow of Jamie’s throat, causing himself to harden and Jamie to swallow.

“Dillon, what . . . what are you doing?”

“Your face was wet. I was wiping it off.”

Jamie snatched the paper towel out of Dillon’s hand and backed away. “I can do it myself.” He moved back even further. “What do you want?” He looked around as if he was making sure they were alone. Dillon doubted that he was happy about the fact that they were. “Did you follow me in here?”

Dillon didn’t want to make him any more uncomfortable than he already was, but he wasn’t about to lie to him. “Yeah.” Jamie looked so alarmed Dillon put up his hand. “I didn’t come in here to cause trouble, Jamie. I just wanted to talk.”

“James.”

“Huh?”

“My name is James. Only my friends and family call me Jamie. As I remember it, you chose not to be in either category.”

Damn. Well, it wasn’t like he hadn’t expected this. Forcing himself to take it slow, he said, “I just want to talk to you James. Please.”

“Why would you want to talk to me? It’s not like we’re friends. Like I said, you made that choice.”

As openings go, it wasn’t much, but it was a start. “You’re right. I did make that choice, and it’s one I regret. We might not be close now, but we used to be. I was hoping we could be again.”

“Why?” Jamie’s voice was shaking, but even after two years, Dillon could tell that he was weakening. “Why, after all this time, do you want to talk to me? I tried for weeks after you dumped me to get you to even speak to me, but you pretended like I didn’t exist. You got your mother to lie and say you weren’t home when I called, and you ignored me in the halls like I was some freakin’ stranger instead of the guy who--” He took a deep breath. “I can’t see any reason why you’d want to talk now.”

The door swung open. “I can tell you why, J. It’s obvious that ole Dillon here has a hard on and he’s looking for an easy way to get off. He figures you were good for a quick fuck once, so why not give your ass another shot?”

Dillon’s jaw tightened. “What were you doing, Lewis? Listening at the door?”

“Actually, I came in here to take a leak. I pushed the door open just enough to hear what you were saying. Amazing how well the sound of bullshit carries.”

“Yeah, well, James and I were having a private conversation. There are at least four other bathrooms in this gym. Why don’t you go find one?”

“I don’t think so.” Ben turned to Jamie. “You okay, kid?”

Jamie nodded. “Yeah.”

“Good.” Ben held out his hand. “Come on. Let’s get outta here.”

Jamie edged around Dillon and followed Lewis out. The smart thing would have been to let them leave and try talking to Jamie when Lewis wasn’t around, but Dillon couldn’t afford to wait. He exited the bathroom, right on Jamie’s heels.

“What are you, Lewis? His bodyguard?”

They’d reached the edge of the dance floor, and even with the music blaring, the raised voices were starting to attract attention. Dillon saw Megan coming over and cursed himself. He hadn’t wanted to bring her into this, but it was too late now.

Ben turned, his face wreathed in anger. “Yeah, well, somebody’s got to be. Haven’t you hurt him enough?”

“I wasn’t going to hurt him. All I wanted to do was talk.”

Jamie tugged on the sleeve of Ben’s leather jacket. “It’s okay, Ben. Let’s just get out of here.”

Ben didn’t budge. “No, it’s not okay, J. Guys like Carver think they can just walk all over us. Who’s gonna care what happens to a bunch of fags?”

Megan walked up behind Dillon. “Dillon, maybe we should go.” 

Ben sneered. “Why don’t you listen to your little girlfriend, Carver? For a breeder, she makes good sense.”

Dillon stepped in front of Megan, shielding her from Ben’s view. “Leave her out of this, Lewis. Whatever’s going on here is between me and you.”

“Yeah? That’s funny, because I could have sworn you were trying to make it between you and J.” His expression went from go-to-hell sneer to evil grin in two seconds flat. “Maybe making it is your problem to begin with, Carver.”

Dillon stepped forward, heedless of Megan’s attempts to pull him back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Maybe the reason you’re so hot to ‘talk’ to my boy here is because the little lady wouldn’t let you into her panties and you’re looking to get it somewhere else.”

“Shut the fuck up, Lewis.”

“What’s the matter, Carver? Did you catch yourself a frigid bitch who won’t put out?”

Dillon had no memory of moving from point A to point B. All he remembered was the satisfying feel of teeth hitting flesh as he belted Lewis in the mouth. He’d have a row of cuts to his knuckles, but he could care less. No way was he gonna let that son-of-a-bitch talk about Megan like that.

Lewis pitched his body forward and sent them both tumbling to the ground. He and Dillon rolled, punches flying from both sides. Dillon wasn’t sure who got in the most licks, and he might be sore as hell in the morning, but it felt so good to give Lewis even half of the beating he’d been dying to give him for weeks. He’d just landed a solid smack to Lewis’s jaw when he felt himself being hauled to his feet. He looked across and saw Nathan Nash holding Lewis with his arms pinned behind his back. Ben was putting up a good fight, but Nate was obviously a lot stronger than he looked. Wait. If Nate was holding Lewis, then that meant . . .

Dillon titled his head to the side and stared up into the flashing blue eyes of Sheriff Brandon Nash. Brandon’s dark hair was standing on end from the struggle, and the look on his face was a mixture of anger and pure annoyance. “Does anybody want to tell me what in the hell is going on here?”

Everyone started talking at once. Megan was hollering, “That cretin insulted my honor,” while Jamie was going on and on about being “ambushed” in the bathroom. Dillon did his best to stammer out a defense, all the while being held tight with his back against a chest that closely resembled a brick wall. It was Ben that finally put the nail in all their coffins, though. Still struggling to break free of Nate’s hold, he said, “I know my rights, and I don’t have to tell you a damn thing without my lawyer present. And if your little wife here doesn’t get the fuck off me, I’ll file assault charges against every last one of you.”

Brandon might have been willing to let it go if Ben hadn’t opened his mouth, but Dillon had no doubt that the insult against Nate was the last straw. With an audible sigh, Brandon said, “So much for the idea of sneaking in a few dances with my husband. Let’s take this down to the station. I have a feeling it’s gonna be a long night.”

 {To Be Continued}



The Way You Say My Name Ch. 02



Dillon didn’t even realize he was drumming his fingers against the scarred surface of the metal table in the dimly lit interrogation room until Megan reached across, put her hand over his, and said, “Will you knock it off already?”

“Sorry.” He put his hands in his lap. “It’s not everyday I get arrested. Guess I’m not up on prison protocol.”

“He didn’t arrest you, Dillon. Not yet, anyway.” She looked down at her watch. “I’m thinking he’s probably not going to, either. We’ve been sitting in here by ourselves for almost an hour. I think if he were gonna charge you with something, he’d have done it by now.”

Dillon snorted. “Yeah, right. And I’m thinking he’s been in there, all this time, getting Lewis’s side of the story. Your brother’s probably trying to figure out the best way to put us all behind bars.” He covered his face with his hands. “God, I am so screwed.”

The door swung open and Dillon looked up to see Brandon lounging against the door frame. “A bit melodramatic, Carver, but I’d say screwed is a pretty accurate description for the state you’re in right now.” Obviously, he’d been listening to them through the intercom. He pulled a rickety chair from against the wall and positioned it backwards against the head of the table. Straddling it, he said, “To just what degree you’re screwed depends on your explanation for what happened tonight. You wanna tell me why I was called down to investigate a possible gay bashing only to end up hauling my sister’s boyfriend in for assault? Is this your idea of taking good care of Megan? What’s next? You gonna drag her into a bar brawl down at Shorty’s Pub?”

Megan started to speak, but Dillon stopped her. “It’s okay, Megan. He’s right. I had no business dragging you into the mess I’ve made.” He turned back to face Brandon. “I owe you both an apology.” He stood up and held out his wrists. “I’m ready to be cuffed and printed, or whatever it is you guys do.”

Brandon sighed. “Sit back down, kid. First of all, I think maybe you’ve seen way to many episodes of Law and Order. Next up you’ll be demanding your one phone call. Secondly, I’m not going to arrest you, although I could book you for assault, easy. No less than six people swear they saw you cram your fist down Ben Lewis’s throat, making the entire altercation essentially your fault. Lucky for you, Mr. Lewis has declined to press charges.”

At the exact same time, Megan and Dillon both said, “Really?”

“Yep. And let me tell you, that’s no minor miracle considering the fact that Ben Lewis has an arrest record longer than my arm, and that’s just the stuff he’s been charged with since he turned eighteen. The only reason he isn’t in jail is because most of his offenses are misdemeanors. Even so, I figured he’d jump at the chance to be on the other side of the law for a change.”

“So why didn’t he press charges against me?”

“You owe James Walker for that one, kid.”

Megan grabbed hold of that. “James talked Ben out of pressing charges?”

Brandon nodded. “I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t heard it for myself.” Brandon addressed his next remarks directly to Dillon. “He told Lewis that both of you were acting like a couple of ‘assholes’--his words, not mine--and that he should just forget about the whole thing. At first I was sure Lewis wouldn’t go for it, but James seems to have some kind of special hold over him. He agreed to let it slide.” Brandon narrowed his eyes. “Lewis agreed to let it slide, but that doesn’t mean I intend to. I want to know what’s going on, and I want to know now.”

Again, it was Megan who spoke first. “Ben insulted me, Bran. Dillon was defending me, is all.”

Brandon twisted his wedding band around on his finger. “I understand all too well the desire to protect the ones you love. Hell, when Morgan asked me to patrol that dance tonight, I insisted that Nate come with me because I can hardly stand to have him out of my sight. He’s in my office right now, waiting for me, and I want nothing more than to wrap this whole mess up so I can get back to him.” He looked directly at Dillon. “If you tell me right now that this grand passion you feel for my sister motivated you to rush to her defense, we’ll chalk this one up to young love and call it a night.” Dillon knew he was being offered an easy out, and part of him was dying to take it. He could agree with everything Brandon Nash just said and be done with it. But a larger part of him-- the part that was tired of lying and hiding all the time--wouldn’t stand for it. He was surprised at how calm his voice sounded when he said, “I am in love, Sheriff, but not with Megan.” When Brandon’s expression started to change, he rushed out, “Don’t get me wrong. I love Megan.” He half turned and gave her a weak smile. “She’s the best friend a guy could ask for, and I did freak out when Lewis insulted her. But loving her and being ‘in love’ with her are two different things.” He cleared his throat. “I can’t be in love with Megan because that spot belongs to someone else.” He took a deep breath and jumped head first out of the closet. “I’m in love with James Walker. I have been for almost four years, and I will be for the rest of my life.”

To Brandon’s credit, he didn’t so much as flinch. He turned to his sister. “Megan, go down to my office and tell Nate to come here, please.”

“Bran--”

“Just do it, Meggie. Nate’s a lot better with this stuff than I am.” He rubbed his hand over his face and stood up. “I’m gonna check and see if there’s any fresh coffee. The stronger the better. I’m guessing this is gonna be one hell of a story, and I think we’re all gonna need a shot of caffeine before we’re through.”

      #

Ben and Jamie sat side by side on a bench outside Deputy Sam Whit’s office. Whit, the sheriff’s right hand man, gave both of them a long, hard look. “Did both you boys get in touch with your folks?” As if he suddenly remembered that neither of them actually had parents, Sam said, “I, uh. . .what I meant was, do you both have someone coming to pick you up and sign you out.”

Ben just shrugged, but Jamie said, “Yes, sir. My aunt’s on her way to get me, and Ben’s foster mom said she’d be down here in a sec.”

Sam nodded. “Good. I’ll be in my office finishing up the paperwork. Have both ladies come in and sign before you leave.” He went inside and shut the door, leaving them basically alone.

Ben waited until he was sure Sam was gone before turning to Jamie and saying, “I’m sorry about this, J. I hope I didn’t get you into any trouble with your aunt.”

“Nah. For an old lady, she’s actually kinda cool. She didn’t sound too thrilled on the phone, but I don’t think she’ll stay mad for long.” He paused. “Ben?”

Ben sighed. “Let me guess. You wanna know why I kissed you?”

Jamie nodded. “I figure you did it to piss Dillon off.”

“That’s part of it. I’ve seen the way he watches you, J. The guy’s still got a thing for you, but he hasn’t got the balls to do anything about it. I wanted him to see what he was missing.”

Jamie leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. “Considering the fact that he and Megan are practically engaged, I doubt he’s missing anything I could give him.” He opened his eyes and turned his head back towards Ben. “You said part of the reason you kissed me was to get at Dillon. What’s the other part?”

Ben took a deep breath. “I did it because I love you.” He must have seen the alarm on Jamie’s face because he said, “Not like that. I know Carver’s the only one for you. God only knows why, but he is.” He moved his fingers down his left leg and tugged at the rip in his jeans. “I know you’ll always have a thing for him. Why do you think I let him get away with punching me like that instead of frying his ass? I dropped the charges because I knew it’s what you wanted me to do.” His lowered his voice so that Jamie had to strain just to hear him. “But I do love you, J. Like a friend.” He shook his head. “No, more like a brother.” He ran his hand over his face. “Damn. I’m no good with all this mushy shit. I just wanted you to know how I feel about you. You’ve meant more to me than anyone else ever has. Or ever could.”

“What about the guy you’re seeing?”

Ben shrugged. “No. I don’t know, maybe. I think I could love him, if I tried, but right now it’s not about that with us. We give each other a good time, but he’ll never mean to me what you do.” Ben grimaced. “Besides, when he finds out the truth about me, he’ll be history.”

It was Jamie’s turn to shake his head. “I don’t buy that. You couldn’t help what that prick C.P.S. sent you to live with made you do. If your boy dumps you because of something you were forced to do, he doesn’t deserve you.”

“I’m not talking about that, although, God knows what Burke made me do is bad enough.” He focused his eyes on Jamie’s face. Jamie got the feeling he was looking for something, but he had no clue what it could be. Ben said, “You have no idea what’s inside me, J. What I’m capable of. I’ve seen and done things that would make you sick to your stomach. And not just when I was living with Burke. If you knew even half of it, you’d walk away from me and never look back.”

“Ben--”

Ben held up his hand. “No, let me finish. Knowing you, you probably wouldn’t turn your back on me. You’ve stood by me through everything else. Two shoplifting arrests and a bust for that joint I had in my pocket during shop class. You even took up for me when I got suspended for chucking those smoke bombs in the girl’s bathroom a couple weeks back.”

Jamie snickered. “Actually, I thought that one was downright genius on your part. Tina Marks came running out with her panties down around her ankles screaming ‘Fire’ at the top of her lungs.”

Ben laughed, too, but it quickly faded. “That’s my point. No matter what I do, you’re always there for me. You’ve never let me down, not ever.” He got quiet for a minute, and Jamie could almost swear he saw tears in Ben’s eyes. Before he had a chance to say anything, Ben straightened up on the bench and said, “Damn. I hope Nora gets here soon. I told my boy I’d meet him before midnight. It’s got to be going on eleven already.”

“You’re meeting him tonight?”

“Yep.”

“Where?”

“You know the old Tanner Textile Mill?”

Jamie shuddered. “You mean that run-down old factory? It’s been closed for what, ten years? Place is bound to be crawling with rats.” Ben laughed. “I forgot all about your rat phobia. But as it so happens, we don’t meet in the factory itself. There’s an old foreman’s house on the backside of the property. We meet down there.”

“Aren’t you worried about getting caught?”

“Not really. My, uh . . . friend’s family owns the whole place. They only use it for a tax write off, and they never go down there, so it’s completely private. They keep the electricity on at both the factory and at the house, so I don’t freeze my ass off while we’re, well, you know.”

Jamie did. He had a sudden picture in his mind of Ben, bent over a faceless boy, thrusting into him the way Dillon once had done with his own body. He felt the blood rush to his face and heard Ben say, “Whatever you’re thinking must be hot as hell. You look almost sunburned.”

Before Jamie had a chance to answer him, he heard the sound of heels clattering against the tile flooring. He looked up to see Aunt Sadie barreling towards them. She wore the same look on her face as she had the day she caught Millicent Edwards pulling an ace out of her stocking during their weekly stud poker game. 

She didn’t even spare Ben a glance. “Getting hauled down to the police station like some common criminal. What’s next? Shall I get you a set of lock-picks and the number of a good bail bondsman for graduation?”

Ben spoke up. “Miss Banks, it was my fault. James didn’t do anything wrong.”

Aunt Sadie looked down her nose at him, no small feat considering they were already nose to nose, even with Ben sitting down and Sadie standing up. “I don’t, for one instant, doubt that every last bit of this is your fault, Benjamin Lewis. My mother used to say ‘Wrestling with dogs is a sure way to get up with fleas.’ Well, you’re a mangy cur if ever I saw one, boy.”

Jamie started to interrupt her, but Ben stopped him with a subtle shake of his head. If Aunt Sadie noticed the gesture, she didn’t let on. “Do I need to speak with anyone before we can leave, Jamie?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He pointed towards Sam’s office. “Deputy Whit has some papers for you to sign.”

“Fine then. Let’s get it done so we can go home.” She knocked on the door, but opened it before Sam even said, “Come-in.”

Jamie got up, but then glanced back down at Ben. “What about Ben? Nora isn’t here yet. Couldn’t we wait until--”

The look Aunt Sadie gave him was answer enough. She stomped into Sam’s office, all but commanding Jamie to follow with her eyes. As he moved forward, Ben reached up and grabbed his hand. “Hey, J?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks. For everything.”

Jamie nodded. Nothing else needed to be said.

     #

Dillon took a long, bracing sip of the scalding coffee Brandon had passed across the table to him. He hoped the tar-like mixture would clear his head, give him some focus. All it really did was make him want to brush his teeth. Megan came back with Nate a few minutes later. Nate took one look at their faces and said, “What’s going on?”

Brandon pulled another chair away from the wall and dragged it over to the table for Nate. The look of trust and devotion on Nathan’s face as he seated himself and waited for his husband to do the same filled Dillon with a mixture of awe and despair. He was stunned by the realization that such a love between too guys was possible, but he ached with the fear that he’d blown his only chance at ever having it for himself.

Brandon reached over and took Nate’s hand. “Dillon has something he needs to tell us. I wanted you to be here to listen in.”

Nate raised his brow. “I thought this was an interrogation.”

Brandon sighed. “I could have sworn it started out that way, but apparently, I was wrong. About a lot of things, as it turns out.” He looked to Dillon. “You ready?” Dillon nodded, but then paused. He turned to look at Megan as she reseated herself by his side. “Megan, maybe it would be better if you didn’t listen in. Some of what I have to say is a little, um, personal.”

Megan waved that away. “I already know it all, anyway. How you and Jamie met and became friends. How you came out to each other. How you--” Recognition hit. “Ohhhhh. You want to talk to about sex.” She laughed when all three of them blushed in unison. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, it’s not like I don’t know what goes on between gay guys.”

Brandon growled and she laughed again, but she also stood up and grabbed her coat off the back of the chair. “Fine, Fine. I’m going.” She looked to her brother. “Do you think one of your deputies could give me a ride home?” She reached out and squeezed Dillon’s shoulder. “That is, if you don’t need me to wait outside for you.”

Dillon shook his head. “No, you go on home. You’ve already done more for me than I can ever thank you for.”

“Not true. I just did what any friend would have done.”

Brandon pointed towards the door. “Ask Dewey to take you home, Meggie. He’s on tonight.”

Megan nodded and blew both Brandon and Nate a kiss. With one last squeeze to Dillon’s arm, she left.

Once the door closed behind her, Brandon said, “Tell him.”

Dillon swallowed hard. “I’m gay, Dr. Nash.”

Nate’s eyes couldn’t possibly have gotten any bigger. “Wow. I don’t really know what to say. I think I’m speechless.”

If Nate was speechless, Brandon showed no signs of having that problem. “All right, Carver. I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt here, but before you tell us your story, I want to make one thing perfectly clear. If I find out you’ve hurt my sister in any way, if you’ve led her on or used her to play the straight boy while you’ve been out screwing guys behind her back, you’ll wish to God the two of us had never met.”

Nate rolled his green eyes back in his dark blond head. “I think what Bran is trying to ask in his own, ever so subtle way, Dillon, is, how long has Megan known that you’re gay? Were you up front about it with her from the start?”

Dillon traced the rim of his coffee cup with one finger. “Yes and no.” He sighed. “I know that’s not very clear. Megan and I have been friends for years. She and I are both on the student council, and we shared chairmanship of the Homecoming Dance together. She didn’t have a date, and neither did I, so she suggested we go together.” He grinned. “I told her I didn’t really want to, but you know how she is. She’s pretty darn persistent when she wants something, and for some reason, she wanted me to take her to that dance.”

Brandon said, “Persistent, huh? That’s a nice way of putting it. Pest is more like it.” But he said it with affection. “When Megan gets an idea into her head, it’s damn near impossible to change her mind.”

Nate snorted. “Gee, I wonder where she gets that from.” He ignored Brandon’s playful slap on the arm and turned his attention back to Dillon. “So, what happened? How did Megan come to know the truth?”

“Well, and I sincerely hope you don’t kick my ass for saying this Sheriff, but after the dance, she asked me to take her down to Pepper Road.” Seeing Brandon start to get up, he said, “Not that she really wanted me to take her there. That was part of her plan, to shake me up bad enough to admit the truth. When she asked me to take her down there, I freaked out and told her I couldn’t do it. That’s when she asked me point blank if I was gay. She said she’d seen the way I watched Jamie, and she’d kinda been thinking I might be. She couldn’t have planned it any better. I was so tired of keeping everything a secret, anyway, that I just broke down and told her everything.”

Nate seemed sympathetic, but Dillon could tell there was no way Brandon was gonna let it go at that. “So, Megan knows the whole story. Fine. To tell you the truth, that doesn’t surprise me. She’s a pretty sharp kid. Takes after her older brother.”

“Which one? Keith?”

Brandon gave Nate a gentle elbow to the ribs for that one and kept on talking. “As I was saying, I’m not surprised that Megan guessed your secret, but I’m still not thrilled that you used her for cover in the first place, whether she was a willing participant or not.” Dillon wasn’t sure what to say, but Nate didn’t seem to have that problem. “Weren’t you the one who dated girls in high school so no one would figure out the truth about you?”

Brandon cleared his throat. “We were not talking about me, Nathan. I believe we were talking about Dillon and Megan. And I’m still waiting to hear his side of things.”

Dillon nodded. No more time for stalling. Considering how long he’s kept all of this bottled inside with no one to confide in save Megan, he could have sworn it would be harder to talk about, but once he opened his mouth, the words just seemed to come spilling out. “I met Jamie when we were both in kindergarten, but we didn’t really start hanging out till we were in the second grade. We played on the same little league team.” He smiled. “I wasn’t the greatest player in the world, but Jamie totally reeked. His aunt put him on the team thinking it would help him make new friends, but he was so scared of the ball, he ducked every time it came at him. His aunt asked the coach to pick someone on the team to help him out, you know, get over his fear. The coach picked me.” Dillon’s face hardened. “My dad was none too happy about it. He didn’t like Jamie because his mom was a druggie and had dropped him on his aunt, but I didn’t care. We spent a whole summer working on his swing.” He laughed again. “He never did get any better at baseball, but from that moment on, we were together almost every day. Riding bikes, fishing down at Patterson Creek. We did everything together.” Dillon stared down at his hands. “At least we did until we turned fourteen and I fucked everything up.”




The Way You Say My Name Ch. 02



Nate reached out and put his right hand over Dillon’s clasped ones. “Was that when you realized you were gay. At fourteen?”

Dillon nodded. “I think I always sort of knew, if that makes any sense, but I started having all these feelings I couldn’t control when I was twelve or thirteen.” He blushed. “I, uh, started having all these dreams.”

Nate patted his hands and then withdrew, leaning back in his chair. “Dreams about Jamie, I’m guessing.”

“Yeah. I knew I wasn’t attracted to girls, but that was the first time it really hit me that I might be gay. And it scared me to death.”

“Why?” Dillon took another sip of his coffee, though he didn’t actually taste it. “My parents raised me to believe that being gay is a sin, Dr. Nash. According to them, everyone who engages is “deviant behavior such as that” is headed straight to hell.”

“First of all, I’m Nate and this is Brandon. No more of this Dr. Nash and Sheriff stuff. And secondly, I hope you know that what your folks say about homosexuals being deviants is a load of crap.”

“I know that now, Dr.--I mean, Nate. Megan started dragging me to church with her as soon as I told her the truth about myself. I’m starting to see that my parents and the church they belong to are wrong, but back then I thought there must really be something wrong with me. And I had no idea how Jamie would react if I told him the truth. Hell, I didn’t even know how to tell him I was gay, let alone that I was having all these fantasies and dreams about him. So, for almost two years I pretended that I was just like everyone else.”

Brandon stretched his long legs out to the side. “That never works. Take it from me. Sooner or later, the person you were made to be always catches up with you.” He sat up straight and eyed Dillon across the table. “I’m guessing when you were fourteen, you couldn’t hide your feelings for Jamie any more.”

“No, and I tried, believe me. But one afternoon when we were up in Jamie’s room playing video games, and goofing around, the truth came out.” Even as bittersweet as the experience had been, the memory made Dillon smile. “We finished the game and started wrestling around on Jamie’s bed. He pinned me, and I popped a bone.” Dillon drew in a deep shuddering breath. “Jamie noticed it right away, and he could also tell that I was embarrassed. Then he shocked the hell out of me by showing me that he was hard to. Not long after that, he told me he was gay, and that he’d been in love with me like, forever.”

Nate nodded. “So that’s how your relationship started?”

“Yeah, if you could even call it that.” The bitterness and self-mockery in his voice were almost impossible to miss. “That’s when he told me he loved me, and that’s also about the time things got, um. . .physical, but calling it a relationship is way too generous. Oh, Jamie gave me everything he had, but calling it a relationship implies that I gave something back, and that’s not even close to the truth. I took, and I took, but I never once gave him anything, not a damn thing.” “What do you mean?”

Nate was being so kind, Dillon hated to tell him. He didn’t want either of them to know what a prick he really was. But lying was how he got into this mess in the first place, and he wasn’t about to do it now. “I thought as long as I let Jamie do all the work, I guess you’d say, that I wasn’t really gay. In my mind, kissing him was gay, and touching him was gay, but letting him get me off was okay.”

Brandon said, “So, to your way of thinking, as long as you never reciprocated, you weren’t really gay?”

Dillon nodded miserably, his head down, unwilling to look at the revulsion he was certain he’d see on both men’s faces. 

Nate picked up where Brandon left off. “So, the two of you never actually had sex?”

Again Dillon nodded. “Yeah, we did, but I was always the pitcher, so to speak.” He put his head in his hands. “God, I was such an asshole.”

To his surprise, he felt two large hands gently tugging his own away from his face. He looked up to see Brandon standing over him, a look of something like understanding on his face. “That may or may not be true, but the fact that you’re here admitting it to us says a lot about how far you’ve come.” He sat back down next to Nate. “Go ahead and tell us the rest of it, kid. You’re bound to feel better once you get it all out of your system.”

Brandon’s non-judgmental tone gave him the strength he needed to continue. “Even though I didn’t give him anything in return, Jamie stuck with me for two years. We dated in secret, spending all our spare time together. My folks were always pressing me to start dating girls, but I always had some excuse. I knew almost from the first that I was in love with Jamie, but I was too much of a coward to tell him the truth. I couldn’t even admit it to myself. I guess I just though we’d drift along like we had been. But when we turned sixteen, I realized that wasn’t gonna happen.”

“What happened when you turned sixteen?” Nate sounded just as caring and understanding as Brandon had.

“Right after his sixteenth birthday, Jamie told me he wanted to come out. He was ready to tell the world he was gay.”

Brandon whistled. “Bet that scared the daylights out of you.”

“Oh, God, yes. I couldn’t even admit to myself that I was gay, and there was my boyfriend, ready to tell the whole world. Oh, he promised not to out me, only himself, but in the back of my mind, I just knew that everyone would know I was gay. I mean, we spent all of our time together, and neither of us had ever dated girls. It wouldn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Plus, I knew my folks would freak if they found out Jamie was gay, even if they didn’t reason out our relationship.”

“So you dropped him.” Brandon made it a statement, not a question.  “Yeah, but not at first. I tried to talk him out of it, begged him to wait, but he wouldn’t do it. He said he was tired of lying about who he really was. I admired him for being able to do what I couldn’t, but I was too scared to stick around for it. I cut off all ties with him. I wouldn’t answer his calls or talk to him at school. And when he came out, I pretended I didn’t even know him anymore.” He felt sick just remembering. “My parents found out right away, what with my mom being a freshman English teacher at the high school and all. I already knew they were homophobes. My father was fired from a law firm in Chicago because he refused to take on gay and lesbian clients. That’s why he opened up his own practice here in Reed. Even with the gay and lesbian population here, he still refuses to work for those who practice what he calls ‘alternative’ lifestyles.” 

Brandon picked at his leather watchband. “I’ve always wondered why they call it that. They make it sound like we have a choice of something.”

“Tell me about it. Anyway, I knew they wouldn’t take the news well, but I had no idea they would freak out like they did. My mom didn’t say too much, but she does have a reputation for being harder on her gay and lesbian students, so I already knew pretty much how she felt. My dad left no doubt.” Dillon cringed at the memory. “He came into my room, ranting and raving about how that little ‘homo’ had been in his house, had eaten at his dinner table. He told me it was a good thing that I wasn’t hanging around with Jamie anymore because he was no longer welcome in our house. As far as everyone was concerned, that was the end of it.”

Brandon said, “Judging from the fact that you tried to shove your hand down Ben Lewis’s throat, I’m guessing that wasn’t the end of it for you.”

“Not even close. I did my best to fool myself into thinking I hadn’t really loved Jamie, but cutting him out of my life was like hacking off my own arm. I promised myself that I would forget about him and move on, but I couldn’t. About a year ago, I gave up trying. I accepted the fact that I would never be happy until I had Jamie back in my life. But I knew I couldn’t try to make up for the hell I put him through until I took care of a few things first. There isn’t a doubt in my mind that my folks will pitch me out on my ass the minute they realize I’m gay. So I’ve been working and saving as much money as I could. I just turned eighteen last month, and I have enough money saved up to make it on my own for the rest of the school year and the summer.”

“What about college?” This from Nate.

“With my extra-curricular activities and my three-point-eight G.P.A., I was able to get in at Garman College.”

Brandon raised a brow. “In New York?”

Dillon blushed. “Yeah. That’s where Jamie’s going. I know because Megan works as a student aid in the office and I bribed her to take a look at his files.” He took one more drink of his now cold coffee. “Anyway, I have a college fund in my name, and my car--which I bought myself and is paid for--is also in my name. If I’m careful, when my folks do kick me out, I should be able to make it until school starts.”

Nate said, “If and when that does happen, Dillon, Brandon and I could help. We--”

Dillon stopped him. “I appreciate that, but this is my mess, and I have to work my own way out of it.”

“I admire that, kid, but what are you gonna do if James Walker refuses to take you back? I can see how sorry you are, but you delivered one hell of a painful blow to the guy. What if getting him back is a no go?”

Dillon hoped to God that Brandon wasn’t right, but he also knew he very well could be. “Even if Jamie tells me to go straight to hell, I still have to try. And I also have to come out. I’ve done enough reading on the net and listened to enough of Pastor Oakley’s sermons to know I’m never gonna stop being gay. I’ll have to come out sooner or later. Might as well get it over with.”

“So, this whole thing with Megan was just for kicks?”

“I guess you could put it that way. I know you’re worried about your sister, but I swear, she’s known all along. She and I do stuff together because we care about each other, and we have a blast, but we’ve never been more than friends. We never could have been.”

Brandon nodded and then looked down at his watch. “It’s almost one o’clock in the morning. I hate to do this to you, kid, but you’re gonna have to call your folks to come and get you. You may be over eighteen, but as long as you still live at home I have to have a parent’s signature before I can let you go.”

Dillon’s stomach knotted. “My folks are out of town for the weekend. They’re off celebrating their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. They won’t be back until Sunday night.”

“Damn. Is there anyone else you can call? A grandparent, maybe, or an aunt or uncle?”

“No.” He thought for a minute. “I do have an older brother. Heath. Could he sign for me?”

“How old is he?”

“Twenty-three.”

Brandon said, “Well, it’s not the best situation, but I can’t have you stay here for two days until your folks get back.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and passed it across the table to Dillon. “Call him.” Before Dillon had a chance to dial, Brandon pulled a card out of his shirt pocket and handed it over. “Here. It has my work, home, and cell numbers on it. If you need us, call.” He got up and pulled Nate to his feet, leading him towards the door. “Nate and I will be waiting in my office. Just have your brother come in and sign you out when he gets here.” Brandon paused with his hand on the doorknob. “You know, your mother is gonna find out about this. It’ll be all over the school come Monday.”

“I know. I’ll tell them about the fight when they get home. The rest of it I’ll just make up as I go along.” 

Brandon nodded. “Good luck, kid. God knows you’re gonna need it.”

      #

Dillon watched his brother make his way through the rows of desks with a mixture of relief and dread. He’d had a lot of time to think while sitting in a chair just outside the interrogation room waiting for Heath. His brother had sounded none to happy on the phone. He probably had a hot date, and being called down to the police station in the middle of the night was screwing with his plans.

At six-two, Heath was just a couple of inches taller than him. Same brownish hair, though Heath’s was cut short to stay out his way while he was working as a firefighter for the city of Reed. Same light green eyes. Physically, the two were a close match. But that’s where all similarity ceased. Whereas Dillon had done his best to please his parents over the years, Heath could care less what anyone thought of him, his folks included. His who-gives-a-rat’s-ass attitude was one of the reasons the Carvers seldom saw their oldest son, and one of the things Dillon most admired about his brother.

Heath spotted him almost immediately. He crossed over to Dillon in three long strides, grumbling as he went. “You wanna tell me why you had to call me down here? Where are Mom and Dad?”

Dillon stood up and stretched his cramped muscles. “They went to the Pocono’s for their anniversary.”

The look he gave Dillon was typical Heath. “Ah, yes. Twenty-five years of wedded bliss.” He snorted. “Of course they’ve stuck together. No one else could stand to put up with either one of ‘em.” Health put his hand on Dillon’s shoulder and led him towards the door. “You said on the phone you needed someone to come down here and sign you out, right?”

“Yeah. Sheriff Nash is waiting in his office for us.” Heath nodded. “Let’s get to it.”

Brandon had the papers waiting for them. The signing out process took no time at all, a fact that Dillon actually found himself regretting. It wasn’t that he enjoying spending the night at the police station, but he knew his brother. As soon as the two of them were alone, Heath was going to demand to know the truth about his fight with Lewis. And Dillon was gonna tell him. All of it.

Heath’s truck was parked just outside the main door to the sheriff’s station, right in front of a fire hydrant. Dillon laughed.

“I thought you were a public servant. You’d think a firefighter would know better than to block a fire plug.”

“Yeah, well, most firefighters don’t have to bail their kid brothers out of jail after pulling a double shift, either.”

Dillon could feel himself getting defensive. “You didn’t have to bail me out, Heath. I was never charged. All you had to do was come down here and pick me up. It’s not like I asked you to give me a kidney or something.”

“Maybe not, but I still want to know what’s up with you.” Heath didn’t seem to care less that they were standing on the sidewalk within hearing distance of anyone who cared to listen, but Dillon did.

“Why don’t we get in the truck, and I’ll tell you about it on the way home?”

“Not happening, little brother. Knowing our illustrious parents, they’ll find a way to pin this one on me, like they do everything else. No, sir. We’re not stepping foot off this sidewalk until you tell me what’s going on.”

Dillon could tell by the set of Heath’s shoulders that he was serious. Might as well get it over with. “I took Megan to the dance tonight.”

“Megan Nash?”

“Yeah.”

“So what? The Sheriff busted you for taking his little sister to a mixer?” Heath narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t do anything stupid like take her parking, did you? So help me, Dillon--”

Dillon cut him off. “No, nothing even remotely like that. I got hauled in here for fighting.”

“With who?”

“Ben Lewis.”

“James Walker’s boyfriend?”

Dillon had to work not to wince at the word boyfriend. “Yeah. That’s him. He and I got into it, he insulted Megan, and I decked him.”

Heath tensed. “He insulted Megan?”

“Yeah, but that’s not what started the fight. He was pissed because I was trying to talk to James.”

“Lewis was pissed because you and James were talking? What, did he think you were doing, trying to put the make on his guy?”

Dillon nodded. “Yeah, that’s exactly what he though.”

“And why would he think that?” The suspicion in Heath’s voice would have been hard to miss.

Dillon took a deep breath. “Because I was. I’m gay, Heath. And I’m in love with James. I have been for the past four years.”

Dillon hadn’t exactly expected Heath to be thrilled, but he was unprepared for the raw loathing he saw on his brother’s face. “Gay? You’re gay? You rotten bastard.” Heath’s anger caught Dillon so off guard he didn’t see his brother’s raised fist, but he sure as hell felt the punch. 

   {TO BE CONTINUED}   



The Way You Say My Name Ch. 03



Dillon had no time to brace himself for the right his brother delivered to his jaw. He staggered backwards but was able to keep himself standing, barely. He whirled Heath, stopping just short of retaliation. “You no good hypocrite. All I’ve ever heard from you is how bad Mom and Dad are, and here you are, gay bashing just like they do. You wanna kick my ass because I’m gay? Go ahead. It’s not like there’s a damn thing I can do about.”

“You think I hit you because you’re gay? I don’t give a flying fuck about that. You can screw the whole male sector of the Plunkett High Young Republicans League for all I care. Hell, my best friend in high school was Jesse Wade, and he came out in like the eighth grade. Homophobic I’m not.”

Dillon rubbed his sore jaw. “Then why in the hell did you hit me?”

Dillon could see Heath’s eyes flashing even in the dim glow of the street lights. “Being gay isn’t something you can help, but toying with a girl’s affections is a definite choice.”

Toying with a girl’s affections? When did Heath start talking like an eighty-year-old man? And what was he talking about. “Toying with whose affections? Megan’s?”

“Yes, Megan. Who else have you been leading around by a string for the past five months?”

“Whoa. Heath, you’ve got it all wrong. The thing about Megan--”

Heath balled up his fists again. “You’re the one who’s got it all wrong if you think a sweet girl like Megan deserves to be used as a cover while you chase cock behind her back.”

Dillon leaned one hip against the side of Heath’s truck. “How would you know how sweet Megan is? As far as I know, you’ve only met her that one time at Mom and Dad’s Christmas get-together. You wouldn’t even have been there if Mom hadn’t called and guilted you into it.”

Heath shifted uncomfortably. “She volunteers with the Reed Boy’s and Girl’s Club after school. They taught a week long course on fire safety, and I was one of the guys who got roped into helping out.” The furious expression returned. “Anyone who gives up her own free time to help out underprivileged kids deserves a lot better than to be treated like your token girl.”

So it was like that, was it? “For your information, Megan knows all about me being gay. She has from almost the start. You’re right about what kind of person she is. She’s sweet and generous. That’s why she volunteered to help me get Jamie back. We’re friends. That’s all we’ve ever been. If you don’t believe me, call her and ask her.”

Watching the air go out of Heath’s sails would have made Dillon smile if his jaw hadn’t been hurting so bad. “She knows?”

“Uh huh.”

“Oh.” He stared down at his shoes for a full minute and a half before snapping his head back up and saying, “Well, you might have told me before I tried to dislocate your jaw.”

“When was I supposed to tell you, genius? Before or after you nearly knocked me to my knees? And how was I supposed to know you’re carrying a raging hard-on for my quasi-girlfriend?”

Heath shook his head. “It’s not like that. Megan is way too young for me, but she’s still. . .special. I’d hate to see her get hurt.”

“So would I. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but screwing Megan over isn’t one of them.”

“Fair enough.” Heath motioned towards his truck. “Why don’t you tell me the rest of it on the way home?”

“Sounds fine, but instead of taking me home, why don’t you drop me off at my car. It should still be parked in the senior parking lot at school.”

“Works for me. Get in.”

The ride back to the school took just long enough for Dillon to give Heath basically a repeat version of the story he’d just told Brandon and Nathan Nash. To Heath’s credit, he listened without interrupting, and when Dillon was through, he didn’t seem inclined to pass judgment.

Heath pulled up behind Dillon’s Lumina. “For what it’s worth, I hope it all works out the way you want it to.” He paused. “You know Mom and Dad aren’t gonna stand for it.”

“I know, but it can’t be helped.” Dillon grabbed for the door handle. “Thanks for the ride, and for signing me out with the sheriff.”

“No problem. Um. . .sorry about your jaw.”

Dillon shrugged. “No big deal. I’m sure I’ll have a bruise, but I’ll just tell Mom and Dad I got clipped in the fight with Lewis.”

“When are you planning on telling them the rest of it?”

Dillon climbed out of the truck and gave his brother a long, searching look. “I wish I knew, Heath. I really wish I knew.”

# 

Jamie was thankful the sermon didn’t last any longer than it had. It was bad enough that he’d had to spend an entire Saturday cleaning the basement just to appease Aunt Sadie’s wrath, but trying to concentrate on the preacher’s words proved impossible. His mind was still reeling from Friday night.

He flipped through the channels on the T.V., but couldn’t find anything he wanted to watch. He’d just about decided to surf the net when the phone rang. Normally, Aunt Sadie would pick it up, but she’d had a Ladies Auxiliary meeting after church. Jamie grabbed the extension in his room.

“Hello?”

“So, did old lady Banks ground your ass, or what?”

Ben. Jamie laughed. “Nah. I told you she wouldn’t. I had to clean the basement, but I would have had to do that sooner or later, anyway.”

“Cool.”

“What about Nora? How bad did she bust you?”

“She was fairly pissed, but she got over it quick. She wasn’t gonna let me back out to see my guy, though, so I waited until she went to sleep and climbed out my bedroom window.”

“Didn’t she hear your car?”

Jamie could almost hear Ben smiling. “Nope. My boy picked me up about two blocks from the house. He dropped me off at the same place about an hour later.”

Jamie couldn’t pass up an opportunity like that to tease his best friend. “An hour? Is that all it takes?”

Ben’s voice lost all sense of levity. “We didn’t even go there, man. He was too pissed over that kiss I gave you.”

“Oh, wow. Wait a minute. He was at the dance?”

“’Fraid so.”

“Dude, I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, don’t be sorry. I’m the one that kissed you, remember?” 

“I know, but still.” He paused. “Did you guys break up?”

“I honestly don’t know, J. He said he needed time to think things over, whatever that means.” Ben’s voice turned angry. “Where the hell does he get off, anyway? He’s the one that wanted to keep things between us light. Now he’s acting like some jealous ass just because the two of us shared a kiss. I told him you and I were just friends. That’s when he accused me of screwing around behind his back.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“What I always do. The best I can. Which right now includes washing my car.”

Jamie shuddered. “It’s twenty-three degrees outside. You’re gonna freeze your balls off.”

“A small price to pay for giving my car that special glow. Quit worrying, J. I’ll bundle up. Catch you in the morning. That is, if your aunt is still gonna let you ride in with me.”

“She will.”

“Cool. Catch you later.”

“Later.”

Jamie placed the phone back on the charger. He was just about to log on to the net when he heard the doorbell.

He mumbled all the way down the stairs. “What’s a guy got to do to get some peace around here?” He made it to the door just as the bell sounded again. Flinging it open, Jamie came face to face with Dillon Carver.

#

Seeing Jamie standing in the doorway almost caused Dillon to lose his nerve. All last night at work and all this morning at home he’d planned what he was gonna say. It took him a minute to realize he’d forgotten everything he’d hoped to recite. The fact that Jamie looked less than glad to see him didn’t help. Neither did the half-spoken, half-barked, “What do you want?” that came out of Jamie’s mouth. 

Forcing a smile, he pulled the package he held from behind his back. “I brought you these.”

Jamie took the box of chocolate-chunk cookies that Dillon had bought from Hailey’s Café just that afternoon and held it away from himself like it was poisonous. “Why would you bring me cookies?”

Dillon cleared his throat. “I remembered that you liked these. And,” he braced himself, “I was hoping maybe we could talk.”

Jamie looked down at the box in his hand, and Dillon could tell he was thinking it over. Finally, he said, “Come on in the kitchen, and I’ll pour us some milk to go with these.”

Dillon nodded and followed Jamie thru the narrow hall of the old Victorian home. Nothing much had changed. Same bold floral wallpaper, same elegantly outdated furniture. When they reached the kitchen, Jamie pointed towards the table. “You can go ahead and sit down.”

Dillon took a place at the table and watched as Jamie pulled glasses and plates out of the cabinet. He put two cookies on each plate, poured milk into both glasses, and then juggled everything to the table. Dillon met him halfway and took the plates from the arm Jamie had them balanced on, his fingers brushing Jamie’s elbow as he did so. He saw Jamie shiver at the contact, but he quickly covered his reaction.

Dillon returned to the table, Jamie right behind him. After they were both seated, Jamie said, “So, what did you want to talk about?”

That was Jamie. Always straight to the point. “I wanted to apologize for what happened with Lewis. I’m not sorry for hitting him, especially not after what he said about Megan, but I am sorry for getting you caught in the middle of it.”

“It’s over with. No real harm done.” He looked at Dillon over the rim of his glass. “You could have told me all that over the phone. What gives?”

Dillon took a sip of his milk while he gathered the words. Setting his glass back on the table, he said, “I came over here to say the same thing I wanted to say to you in the bathroom at the dance. I want us to be friends again, James. I miss having you in my life. I’m more sorry than you could ever imagine about the way I treated you two years ago, not to mention how I’ve ignored you since.”

“What will your parents say? And what about the guys you hang out with? How are they gonna feel about you running around with the school fag again?”

More than anything Dillon wanted to reach out and touch Jamie, to hold him in his arms and take that defeated look off his face. But going slow was key. “Don’t call yourself that. As far as everyone else is concerned, I could care less. I want to be with you more than anything.”

Jamie narrowed his eyes. “I thought you said you wanted to be friends. Sounds like you’re looking for a whole lot more.”

“I’m not gonna lie to you, James. I’d like for us to mean what we used to mean to each other. No, scratch that. I’d like for things to be a hell of a lot better than they used to be. But I’ll settle for what you can give me.” He stared down at his plate. “That is, unless you think Ben will care.”

“Why would he?”

Dillon brought his eyes back up to Jamie’s face. “If you were my boyfriend, I wouldn’t want to share you with anybody, even if you were just friends with the other guy.”

Jamie shifted in his seat. “Ben isn’t my boyfriend. He and I are friends, and that’s it. But just so you know, that doesn’t mean I’m ready to pick up where you and I left off.” He paused. “And anyway, what’s Megan gonna say about you spending time with your ex?” His voice turned sarcastic. “Oh, wait. That’s right. Megan doesn’t know about us. Nobody does.”

“Actually, she does. Just like you and Ben, Megan and I are friends. She’s not my girlfriend, and she never has been. And as far as other people knowing goes, I’ve told several people about me, and about us. Namely Brandon and Nathan Nash, and also my brother, Heath.”

To Jamie’s credit, he didn’t call Dillon a liar, but, then again, he didn’t have to. His expression said it all. “Yeah, sure you have. Next you’ll be telling me that you’re getting ready to come out to the whole world.”

Dillon kept his tone steady. “I am.” Jamie started to say something, but Dillon cut him off. “I don’t expect you to believe me, James, but I intend to prove it to you, if you’ll let me.”

Jamie took a bite of his cookie, using the time spent chewing to think. After washing the bite down with a healthy drink of milk, Jamie said, “If you’re serious about coming out, I can’t stop you, but don’t do it on my account.”

Dillon’s heart plummeted. “Is that your way of saying you want me to leave you alone?”

Jamie shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. The thing is,” he leaned forward, “if you’re serious about coming out, it doesn’t matter whether or not the two of us are friends or anything else. Coming out is something you do for yourself.”

“I know that, and no matter what you decide, I’m still gonna do it.” He searched Jamie’s eyes. “That doesn’t mean I’m not hoping the two of us can be together again.”

“Why now? Why, after two years, would you suddenly want me back?”

More truths. “It wasn’t sudden, James. I never stopped wanting to be with you. I just didn’t have the guts to do anything about it. It’s taken me a long time to gather up the courage to be honest about myself and about the feelings I have for you. I know it’s not gonna be easy, but it’s something I have to do, for myself, and someday, I hope, for us.”

“Dillon, I--”

Dillon put his finger against Jamie’s lips. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m not gonna rush you, I swear.” He moved his finger to the corner of Jamie’s mouth where a small glob of chocolate had collected. Using the tip of his index finger, Dillon swept the chocolate away and then brought his finger to his mouth. He saw Jamie shudder and felt a little thrill of satisfaction. But he couldn’t afford to push it any more for today. If he did things right, this would be the first of many afternoons spent with the one he loved.

He stood up. “I’ve got to go. My folks will be back any minute and I’ve got to tell them about that fight with Lewis before Mom hears about it at school.” Jamie started to get up, but Dillon stopped him. “I know my way to the door. See you at school tomorrow.” He was halfway to the hall before he turned around and said. “Thanks. For talking to me, I mean.”

Jamie shrugged as if it was no big deal, but as Dillon turned and left the house, he found himself hoping against hope that it had meant something to Jamie, if only just a little bit.

#

Dillon winced when he saw his dad’s Buick in the driveway. He pulled his Lumina in beside his father’s car. This was bound to get ugly.

He entered the house through the back door into the kitchen, and nearly knocked over his mother as he did so.

Angela Carver put her hand over her heart. “Good heavens, Dillon. You scared me to death.” She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, then went back over to the table and resumed unpacking the groceries she’d brought in with her. “Did you have a good time while we were gone? I understood you to say you were taking that Nash girl to that dance at the school.”

Dillon gritted his teeth. He hated the way his folks referred to Megan as “that Nash girl.” He supposed it was their revenge on Megan for having the nerve to be the sister of gay brothers. Forcing himself to calm down, he said, “Yeah. Uh, about that. I have something I need to tell you and Dad.”

His mother raised her frosted blond head, her hazel eyes boring into him. “I take it this is something we aren’t going to like.”

“Probably not.”

Angela sighed. “I’ll go get your father. I think he’s out in the garage unloading the car. Wait for us in the dining room.”

The dining room. Nothing good ever came out of those dining room meetings. The formal dinning room of the Carver house was strictly for company, as evidenced by the pristine carpets and the scratch-less wood of the furniture. Family always ate in the kitchen. In addition to company dinners, though, the dining room had one other use: so-called family meetings. A family meeting consisted of either or both of the Carver boys sitting on one side of the table, and their parents on the other, staring them down. Strangely, Dillon wasn’t so worried about this one. What were they gonna do, throw him out? That was gonna happen soon enough anyway. The thought was liberating.

Dillon sat down at the mahogany table and waited. His father came in a few minutes later, stooping his shoulders to keep from hitting the door frame. His graying hair was mussed, something that always happened when he was irritated because he ran his fingers through it, tugging until Dillon was sure he was gonna pull it out. The green eyes behind the round glasses, so like Dillon and Heath’s, found his son in an instant.

“Your mother tells me you have something you want to talk to us about.”

“Yes, sir.” He waited until his mother came into the room and both his parents were seated before beginning. “Friday night at the dance, there was a fight, and I got hauled into the sheriff’s station.”

The horror in Angela’s voice was plain. “You were arrested?”

“No, ma’am. I was brought in for questioning, but no charges were filed. The sheriff was already there because of a possible danger to some of the gay students.”

Angela twitched her finger in the air. “I blame Dan Morgan for that. What did he think would happen when he trotted out all those homosexuals and rubbed them in the face of God-fearing children?” She put down her hand and turned to her son. “Was anyone hurt?”

“No, ma’am. The gay bashing turned out to be a false alarm. I don’t think the guys they suspected even showed up for the dance. The sheriff and his men ended up being called out for nothing.”

Douglas peered at his son over the top of his wire frames. “So since the sheriff ended up with nothing to do that night, you thought you’d give him something to occupy his time by getting into a brawl?”

“No, sir. I know it was wrong, but Ben Lewis insulted Megan, and I ended up punching him. Sheriff Nash and his husband broke up the fight and took us down to his office.”

The expression on Doug Carver’s face was chilling. “First of all, Nathan Morris and Brandon Nash are not married. Marriage is intended for men and women, and men and women only.”

“Nathan Nash.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Nate changed his name when he and Brandon got married.” Dillon emphasized the word “married.”

Doug waved that away. “I could care less what he calls himself. Those two are not now, nor will they ever be, married. I was against you going to that sham of a wedding in the first place, and if you hadn’t insisted on taking that girl, I’d have been much happier. That aside, Ben Lewis is a hoodlum. Nash has some nerve taking you in for questioning when everyone knows it was probably Lewis’s fault. You’d think Nash would be glad to have someone taking up for that sister of his.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dillon’s voice held a rising anger that caused his father to move back a bit in his chair.

“Don’t take that tone with me, young man. All I meant was, with all the gays in Megan’s family, she’s bound to be the subject of ridicule. Nash should be glad to have someone sticking up for her.”

“The only people who would give Megan a hard time are small minded bigots whose opinions don’t matter, anyway.”

“Now, see here--”

Angela Carver cut her husband off with practiced ease. “Dillon, how did you get out of jail? Did the sheriff release you?”

“James Walker talked Lewis into dropping charges against me.”

“Charges against you?” Dillon’s father was an expert at righteous indignation. “Weren’t you the one who should have been pressing charges against him? You didn’t put that bruise on your own jaw, now did you?”

Dillon wasn’t about to tell them about that one. Instead he said, “Not when I threw the first punch. Anyway, James talked him into dropping the charges, and I was free to go. But since I still live under your roof, I needed a parent to sign me out. I think they call it a custody release.” He shrugged. “You guys were out of town, so he let me call Heath to come and fill out the paperwork.”




The Way You Say My Name Ch. 03



Douglas folded his arms over his chest. “I might have known Heath was involved in this, somehow. He doesn’t have time to come and see his parents, but he’s conveniently on call to pick his brother up from jail.”

Angela put her hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Well, I for one, am glad he was home. I hate the thought of him having to spend all weekend down at the sheriff’s station.” She looked towards her son. “Dillon, I want you to go upstairs while your father and I discuss a suitable punishment.”

Dillon started to stand, but Douglas stopped him. “That won’t be necessary. There’ll be no punishment this time.”

His mother looked as shocked as Dillon was. “Douglas, we have to do something. This type of behavior is intolerable.”

“Boys fight, Angela. And given the nature of the fight itself, I think it’s safe to say it won’t happen again. I’m just thankful that Dillon no longer associates with that Walker boy. I have no doubt that he was a large part of this whole fracas.”

“James didn’t do one thing wrong, Dad. Not a single thing. And as far as breaking off my friendship with him goes, that’s the worst mistake I ever made.”

Doug laughed, the mockery so thick in his voice Dillon felt ill. “Why? What did he ever do for you?”

Dillon was so tempted to tell him, but he forced himself to wait. For his plan to work, his timing had to be just right. Ignoring his father, he said, “If that’s all, I’d like to be excused.”

His father said, “No, that’s not all. I believe I asked you a question.”

Angela cut in. “Let him go, Doug. I think we’ve done enough talking for one night, and, Dillon, I’m sure you have homework.”

He didn’t, but that didn’t stop Dillon from nodding his head and leaving the room. He had to get out of there before his father said another word.

#

Jamie cursed under his breath and pulled his coat tighter around his neck. The gap between his scarf and his collar was just enough to let the thirty-three degree temperature seep into his skin. No matter how many layers he wore, there was nothing he could do to combat the cold as he started the three-block-walk to school. He could have called Aunt Sadie to come and take him, but he hated to bother her. Since she’d retired from her nursing job two years ago, she did her best to stay busy with other things. Today was her day to volunteer at the public library, and she’d already left by the time Jamie realized Ben wasn’t gonna show. He’d be late, but there was no help for it. The temperature was actually high for February, and thankfully, it wasn’t snowing. Snuggling into his clothing, he set a fast pace and took off. He’d made it almost to the end of the first block when he heard a car pull up beside him, and a familiar voice say, “Get in.”

Jamie bent down to peer through into the rolled-down passenger window of the Lumina. Giving Dillon the most nonchalant look he could manage with his teeth chattering as they were, he said, “No, thanks. It’s not that far, and I don’t mind walking. Ben’s probably just running late. I’m sure he’ll stop and pick me up on the way to school.”

Dillon blew out the breath he’d just taken in, sending little clouds of smoke swirling out the open window and through the frigid air. “Christ, Jamie--I mean, James--you’re gonna freeze out here. Just get in the car. You can meet up with Lewis at school.” 

Dillon must have seen the indecision on Jamie’s face, because he said, “I’m not gonna molest you, man. I swear. All I want to do is give you a ride to school. I meant what I said yesterday. No pressure.”

Jamie felt himself giving in, but the truth was, it wasn’t a hard decision to make. Yesterday at his house, he’d found himself aching to believe what Dillon said was true. Even after all the hurt Dillon had caused, Jamie had never stopped hoping he and Dillon could have something together. He was scared to let himself trust Dillon again, but that didn’t stop the butterflies that raced around his stomach every time he saw the guy, nor did it stop him from weaving dreams of a future with Dillon in a starring role. While all of this was waging a war inside his head, he failed to notice that Dillon had put the car in park and gotten out. 

Dillon walked around to where Jamie was standing and opened the passenger door. Ever so gently, he tugged on Jamie’s arm with his left hand, urging him towards the car. “Come on, James. Please, get in the car.” When Jamie still hesitated, Dillon, without ever letting go of Jamie’s arm, stuck the glove of his right hand in his mouth and tugged it free with his teeth. He removed it from his mouth and stuffed it into his coat pocket. Then, with fingertips so tender Jamie wanted to moan, Dillon traced small circles on each of Jamie’s wind reddened cheeks. “Oh, babe, you’re almost frozen. Let me see if I can help.” Then, before Jamie could protest, Dillon leaned forward so that they were almost touching--so close that Jamie could feel the heat from Dillon’s skin. As Jamie stood before him in frozen silence, Dillon opened his mouth and huffed warm air onto Jamie’s cold cheeks. 

Jamie was too stunned to say a word, but Dillon remained at his task. When he seemed satisfied that Jamie’s skin was warmer, Dillon again pulled him towards the car. “Come on. The car is nice and warm, and I want to get you out of this wind.” This time, Jamie went without protest.

The ride to school was mostly quiet, but, to Jamie’s surprise, it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. He could still feel Dillon’s warm breath on his cheeks, still feel the moist heat from his body. And the fact that Dillon had done all that on a busy street didn’t escape him, either. Anyone could have seen them, and Dillon didn’t seem to care. Before he had time to reason it all through, Dillon was pulling the car into the senior parking lot.

Jamie started to get out, but stopped short of opening the door. Turning to Dillon, he said, “Thanks for the ride. And thanks for, um, warming me up.” He was mortified to feel himself blush.

Dillon’s grin caused the blush to grow. “You’re more than welcome for the ride. And as for the warming up, well, that was pure pleasure on my part.” He laughed as Jamie felt his face flame. “I always loved the way you blush. God, you’re cute.”

Jamie didn’t know what to say, but he couldn’t stop the smile that lit his face. Here he was, eighteen-years-old, and blushing like some ten-year-old kid. Giving Dillon one last muttered thanks, he started to get out. Dillon reached out his hand and stopped him. “James?”

“Yeah?”

“I know you usually eat lunch with Lewis, but I was hoping you might eat with me. I mean, I don’t see Lewis’s car, and it looks like he’s not gonna show. And even if he does, I was hoping you might go off campus with me and grab a bite to eat, anyway. I was thinking we might go to Hailey’s. We both have fourth period lunch and a free period afterwards, which means we’d have over an hour and a half before we actually had to be back in class.”

Jamie raised his brows. “How did you know I have a free period after lunch?”

It was Dillon’s turn to blush, and Jamie had to admit, it looked adorable on him. “I, uh, had Megan check your schedule.”

That little bit of knowledge did more to warm Jamie than any amount of heat ever could. “Just lunch? That’s all your asking for?”

“Just lunch.”

Jamie’s head told him to say no, but his heart answered before his brain could shut it up. “Okay. Where do you want to meet?”

“How about meeting me at my car after third period?”

Jamie nodded. “I’ll be here.” He got out of the car, carrying the image of Dillon’s triumphant grin with him.

His first three classes seemed to drag on forever. Though he tried to fight it, Jamie found himself getting excited about the prospect of spending an hour and a half with Dillon. It was the same thrill he used to feel when he knew he and Dillon would be spending the day together. He’d fallen in love with Dillon Carver when he was just barely eleven years old, even though it took him three years to work up the nerve to tell him so. It was amazing that after all this time, and after all the heartache, Jamie still felt an electrical shock zing up his spine every time he saw Dillon’s face. 

When the third period ending bell rang, Jamie all but flew towards the parking lot. He’d almost made it to the double doors when a tug on his coat sleeve stopped him. He turned around to see the soft blue eyes of Megan Nash staring up at him.

His first reaction was panic. Dillon had lied to him. Megan was here to warn him off. All those things Ben had said at the dance were probably true. Dillon just wanted Jamie for a side dish while waiting for Megan to become the main course. God, how could he have been stupid enough to trust him again? He was just about to go from panic to anger when Megan spoke.

“Dillon sent me to keep you company until he gets here. His mother caught him after class and asked him to move some boxes from the teacher’s supply closet down to her class room. It’ll only take a second, but he didn’t want you to think he was standing you up for your lunch date.”

Jamie cleared his throat. “Date? He called it a date?”

Megan smiled. “Of course that’s what he called it.” When Jamie made no response, her face fell. “Was I not supposed to say that? He told me you guys were taking it slow. I didn’t mean to screw this up. Damn, damn, damn.”

All the relief Jamie felt knowing that Megan knew, that Dillon hadn’t lied, bubbled up and coupled with the natural hilarity of Megan’s muttered curses. He burst out laughing. Megan watched him for a full minute before she also got caught up and started laughing, too. When they’d both calmed, she said, “Does that mean you’re not mad?”

Though Jamie had known Megan for years, he couldn’t recall ever actually having a conversation with her before. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her, they just ran in different circles. For some reason though, he found himself opening up.

“No, I’m not mad. I’m relieved to tell you the truth. When I saw you standing there, I thought maybe. . .”

Megan was nothing if not quick. “Oh, no. You thought I was coming to tell you to back off. No wonder you had that look on your face. You poor thing. I’m so sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything. It’s just something I’m gonna have to deal with.”

“Does that mean you’re gonna give Dillon another chance?”

“Damn. You ask the tough questions, don’t you? I wish I could answer you, but I honestly don’t know yet.”

Megan nodded. “Perfectly understandable. But, for what it’s worth, I’m rooting for you guys.”

Her sincerity made Jamie feel at ease, like they’d been friends for years or something. “Thanks, Megan. That means a lot to me.”

Dillon came up from the back hallway. “What means a lot to you?”

Megan stepped in. “Lunch.” She gave Jamie a wink that only he could see. “Lunch means the world to him, Dillon. Look at him. The boy is skin and bones. Go. Feed him.” She gave Dillon a peck on the cheek, then stunned Jamie by doing the same to him. Before either could say anything to her, she was gone.

Jamie just shook his head. “I like her. She’s a firecracker.”

“That she is.” Dillon pointed to the door. “You ready to go? I think I promised you lunch. According to Megan, you’re gonna waste away if I don’t get you to Hailey’s soon.”

Jamie nodded, and they left. The ride to Hailey’s was much like the ride to school, silent but comfortable. Jamie played with the radio while Dillon sung along in that off-key squeak of his. Dillon pulled up to the curb and threw the car in park. They got out of the car and started towards the front of the restaurant, but Jamie stopped just short of opening the door. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“What, eat lunch? I sure do. I’m starving.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Dillon sighed and stopped walking. “I know what you meant, and the answer is yes. In the first place, it’s not like we’re gonna have sex on the lunch counter. We’re just two friends having lunch together. And like I told you before, I could care less what anyone thinks. Well, anyone but you, that is. Now, can we please go in and eat? I wasn’t kidding about the starving part.”

Jamie followed him inside, content just to be with him. Hailey’s Cafe never seemed to change a bit, the very epitome of a small town restaurant. Same old white vinyl covered booths, same old stools and blue checkered table cloths. The enticing smells coming from the kitchen were enough to drive a hungry man insane, as evidenced by the near packed house. Hailey Johnson, the owner, met them at the door. The blue-eyed blond had a thousand-watt smile and a warm manner that had broken many a heart. “Hi, guys. Would you like a table, or are you going to sit at the counter?”

Leaving Jamie standing in the doorway, Dillon stepped forward and whispered in her ear. Jamie saw her smile and nod. When Dillon stepped back to Jamie’s side, Hailey said, “Follow me, boys. It’s awful crowded in here. I thought you might like to eat in The Party Room.”

The Party Room was just that, primarily reserved for the large luncheons and dinners Hailey often catered. It was also separated from the rest of the Café by a thick blue curtain. Hailey led them through and seated them at a booth on the far wall. Before Jamie sat down, Dillon helped him remove his coat. After Dillon removed his own heavy barn jacket and set them both on a nearby empty table, Jamie expected Dillon to take the seat across from him. Once again, though, Dillon surprised him by sliding in on the same side.

Hailey offered menus, but neither needed them. After ordering two plates full of Hailey’s spicy chicken fingers and fries with Cokes to wash them down, Dillon and Jamie settled in to wait.

Pulling a napkin out of one of the old-fashioned chrome holders and, twisting it into a ball with his fingers, Dillon said, “I hope eating back here was okay with you.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” He took in the familiar knotty-pine paneling and the Norman Rockwell reproductions on the walls. “I love this place.”

Dillon turned to face him, so close they were practically nose to nose. “I didn’t mean the café. I meant eating back here, alone.”

Jamie was surprised at how husky his own voice sounded. “I think it’s nice.”

Dillon leaned in even closer. “That’s why I asked Hailey to put us back here. I didn’t want you to think I was ashamed to be seen with you. That’s not it. I just wanted you all to myself.” His sweet, hot breath fanned Jamie’s face.

Oh, God. Jamie could feel himself getting hard, his rising erection pressing against the rough denim of his jeans. He stared at Dillon’s mouth, wondering what his lips would taste like. In the past, Dillon had resisted all of Jamie’s efforts to kiss him. Would this new Dillon--the one who always seemed to know exactly the right thing to say, the one who could make Jamie hard with just a glance--would this new Dillon push him away were he to lean forward just a quarter of an inch and taste him? As afraid as he was to know the answer, Jamie had just about decided to go ahead and test the theory when Hailey came back with their Cokes. The boys broke apart in an instant.

If she noticed the sexual tension in the air, Hailey didn’t let on. “Your food should be out in two shakes, guys. Can I get you anything while you wait?”

With his eyes still fastened on Jamie, Dillon said, “Nothing for me. I have everything I need, thanks.”

Hailey grinned. “I can see that. I’ll leave you guys alone then.” She left unnoticed.

Jamie swallowed. “Dillon, I-- I’m not sure what to say.”

Dillon drew in a ragged breath and turned away a bit. “You don’t have to say it, James. I already know. I’m pushing too hard, damn it. I swear to God I’m trying not to, but being this close to you again is making me crazy.”

In a bold move that surprised them both, Jamie picked up Dillon’s hand and squeezed it. “You’re not pushing. This new you is just taking me a while to get used to.” When Dillon looked uncertain, Jamie turned his hand over and made little circles on Dillon’s palm with his fingers. He delighted in the little shudders he felt running through Dillon’s body. “Don’t get me wrong. I like it. Just give me time to adjust.”

Dillon laced his fingers through Jamie’s. “That’s all I needed to hear.” Just as he was about to say more, the food arrived, cutting off further conversation. The obvious reluctance with which Dillon released his hand made Jamie’s heart beat a little faster. Damn. If lunch with Dillon was this good, Jamie couldn’t wait for dinner.

#

The ride back to school was more like a walk down memory lane. Dillon couldn’t ever remember feeling closer to Jamie than he did at that moment. They talked about everything and nothing, just as they’d done so many times in the past. Two years melted away, and Dillon began hoping that, in time, all the pain he’d caused would dissolve as well.

He studied Jamie out of the corner of his eye as he drove. He followed the elegant curve of Jamie’s chin, the slight tilt of his ski jump nose. His body responded as Jamie laughed at something he’s said, the rich, gravely sound vibrating deep within him. It was bad enough that he’d had a hard-on all through lunch, but Dillon would be damned before he’d walk into the school with one. He willed himself to relax as he whipped into the parking lot.

Jamie slipped on his gloves. “I really enjoyed lunch. I still wish you’d at least let me pay for my half.”

“No way. You were my. . .” He trailed off, afraid to say the “D” word.

Jamie grinned. “All right, but I get to pay next time. I just hope you’re a cheap date.”

Did he hear him right? “Next time?”

Jamie’s glorious eyes clouded. “Well, yeah. That is, if you want to.”

Dillon lifted Jamie’s chin with one finger. “All right. You can pay next time.”

Jamie’s smile did nothing to ease the ache in Dillon’s jeans. He looked down at his watch. “We’d better go on in. We’ve got like ten minutes until the fifth period bell, and I still have to run down to my locker.”

Dillon nodded. “Can I give you a ride home this afternoon? I don’t have to be at the drugstore until four, so I’ll have plenty of time.”

This time there was no hesitation on Jamie’s part. “I’d like that. Meet you at the lockers?”

“You know it.”

Dillon was so high on thoughts of seeing Jamie after school that he barely remembered walking back into the building. Nor could he recall a single thing Mrs. Murdock, his geometry teacher, said during the fifth period class. When the bell rang, he practically raced out of the room, anxious to get the day over with and get to Jamie. He ducked into the bathroom, did his thing, and headed to class.

His last class, Government, was usually a snooze fest. Mr. Whitewood, the teacher, was a nice enough guy, but he spoke with one of those monotone voices that had the power to put anyone to sleep in a matter of seconds. Dillon walked in, expecting to find everyone in their seats and preparing for their afternoon nap. Instead, he saw chaos.

Clusters of weeping girls, whispering and dabbing at their eyes, stood huddled at various points throughout the room. He saw a group of jocks in the corner, Rooster Carmichael among them, his meaty face as red as his scrubby hair. He was laughing and saying something, but Dillon couldn’t tell what. The rest of the students were scattered into groups, chatting in corners or sitting on desks and speaking in hushed tones. He waited for Whitewood to call them to order, but after a quick visual search of the room, found no sign of the pudgy little teacher.

The door swung open and a breathless Megan rushed in, heading straight to Dillon. “Oh, thank God. I came in here a minute ago and couldn’t find you. Where have you been?”

“I stopped by the bathroom. What’s up? Why is it like a funeral home in here?”




The Way You Say My Name Ch. 03



Megan froze. “You mean you haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?” Alarm raced through his body. “Meggie, you’re scaring the hell out of me. What’s goin’ on?”

Megan put her hands to her chest, trying to catch her breath. “About ten minutes ago, Principal Morgan made an announcement over the intercom. I guess you were in the bathroom. Dillon, Ben Lewis is dead. Morgan didn’t give any details, just said that we need to keep his friends and family in our prayers because Ben had been killed.”

Friends and family? Oh, God. Jamie. Dillon said, “Megan, I’ve got to get to James. Can your remember what his last class is? I think it’s English Lit.”

“No, it’s art class, but that’s not the problem. I went down to the art room as soon as I heard what happened--you know, to check on him--but he wasn’t there.”

“What do you mean, he wasn’t there?”

“Dillon, James is gone.” 

{TO BE CONTINUED}



The Way You Say My Name Ch. 04



All the euphoria from lunch evaporated in the split second it took Dillon to get from the school to his car, only to be replaced by raw fear. He peeled out of the parking lot, not caring that his tires squealed or that half the school probably heard it. He had to get to Jamie. He was out there, in the cold, alone, and grieving for his best friend.

Dillon drove like a maniac, taking the most direct route to Jamie’s house. He found Jamie about a block from school, walking in what Dillon could only describe later as a trance. He pulled over and rolled down the window. “James?”

Jamie turned to look at him, his eyes glassy and dazed. “Dillon?”

“Yeah, James, it’s me.”

Jamie shook his head, as if he was trying to clear it. “You heard about Ben?”

For the second time that day, Dillon put his car in park and got out to go to Jamie, this time approaching him with a delicate care he hadn’t known he even possessed. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten him and make it worse. The blank look on Jamie’s face scared the daylights out of him, but he did his best to keep the worry from showing.

“I heard.” He took Jamie’s hand and led him, unresisting, to the car. “Let me take you home, baby. You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.” He helped Jamie into the passenger seat and buckled him in. Closing the door, he whipped out his cell phone and removed the card Brandon Nash had given him from his pocket. Home. He’d try the home number first. He just prayed to God someone was there who could help.

When Nathan Nash picked up on the second ring, Dillon wanted to weep with relief. “Hello?”

“Dr. Nash?”

“Yes?”

“Dr. Nash, it’s Dillon Carver. I need your help.”

“Dillon? What’s the matter, kiddo? Are you okay? Is Megan?” The concern in Nate’s voice was almost Dillon’s undoing, but he knew he had to stay strong for Jamie.

“Megan and I are both fine, but Jamie isn’t doing so hot. To be honest, Doc, I’m scared to death here.”

“Jamie? You mean James Walker?” The light must have dawned, because Nate said. “Oh my God. He was dating Ben Lewis, wasn’t he? Then he knows?”

“About Ben’s death? Yes, sir. They weren’t dating, but they were close. And the whole school knows. Principal Morgan announced it right before sixth period.”

Nate swore. “Brandon is gonna have kittens over that one. How did Morgan find out, anyway? Brandon’s still out at the scene, and I know for a fact he hasn’t made a press release.”

“I don’t know. I missed the announcement, but, according to Megan, he didn’t give any details. Morgan just basically said, ‘Ben’s dead,’ and that was it.” 

Nate swore again, this time using a more colorful word that seemed out of place coming from the staid doctor. “What’s done is done, but I feel damn sorry for Morgan when Bran finds out.” He blew out a deep breath. “So, what’s going on with James?”

Dillon looked towards the car, where Jamie was sitting, stock still in the same position Dillon had left him in. “I’m not sure, Doc. I found him on Harp Street, about a block from school. His eyes are glassy, and he seems really confused. It’s almost like he’s not even in there.”

“It sounds like he’s in shock. Where are you now?”

“Still on Harp Street. I called you as soon as I got him in the car. I was gonna take him on home, but I wasn’t sure if he needed to go to the hospital or not.”

“Usually, if the shock is fairly mild, the patient does better in his own home. Where does Jamie live?”

“2238 Lambert Lane. He lives with his aunt. She’s probably not home, though. She usually keeps busy during the day.” A thought occurred to him. “Should I try to get in touch with her?”

Nate said, “Go ahead and get him home. I’ll meet you there, and then I’ll call her myself after I’ve checked him over. That way I can explain what’s going on, hopefully without scaring her to death.”

“Okay, Doc. I’m headed there, now. And Doc? Thanks.”

“I’m glad to help, Dillon. You go take care of James, and I’ll see you in a few.”

Dillon disconnected and returned to the car. Even when Dillon got in and closed the door behind him, Jamie didn’t stir. With one eye on Jamie and the other on the road, Dillon drove the rest of the way to Sadie’s house.

He pulled into the driveway and turned to Jamie. “James? We’re at your house. Do you have your keys?”

With the same blank stare on his face, Jamie reached into his pocket and handed over the keys, but made no move to get out of the car. Dillon ended up having to lead him into the house.

Once inside, Dillon said, “Come on. Let’s get you upstairs and into bed.” Jamie just stood there, not saying a word. Dillon got behind him, and, putting his hands on the slight curve at Jamie’s hip, guided him up the stairs 

Jamie’s room was located on the far side of the upstairs hall. Unlike the rest of the house with its Victorian wallpaper and heavy furnishings, Jamie’s room was pure Jamie. The walls were painted a deep burgundy, and the drapes and coverings for the queen-size cherry bed were a warm shade of green. The rest of the furniture, which included a dresser, a table, a couple of chairs, and a computer desk, were finished in the same cherry tones as the bed. But instead of the posters and pin-ups most teenage boys had scattered across the walls, Jamie’s room was decorated with magnificent architectural sketches he’d drawn himself and Aunt Sadie had framed. He was gonna make a heck of an architect one of these days. Dillon only hoped Jamie would allow him to be there to share in his success.

Dillon moved Jamie to the edge of his bed. “James? I’m gonna undress you now so that you’ll be more comfortable, okay?”

When Jamie didn’t say anything, Dillon took the silence as agreement and grabbed Jamie’s long-sleeved t-shirt, pulling it over his head. It wasn’t until Dillon started removing the t-shirt he wore underneath that Jamie started whimpering.

“James?”

Jamie’s voice was ragged, laced with upset, “Please, don’t. I can’t . . . I don’t--”

“Shh.” Dillon rubbed his hands up and down Jamie’s arms. “It’s nothing like that, I swear. I just want to make you comfortable so you can rest until Dr. Nash gets here.”

Something in Dillon’s voice must have reassured him, because he allowed Dillon to strip him down to his boxers without further protest. The sight of Jamie’s near-naked body, well-toned without being overly muscular, had Dillon fighting a losing battle with his rapidly hardening penis. He willed it to go down, mentally cursing at it, calling it names. Damn. That was the last thing Jamie needed to see.

Thankfully, Jamie wasn’t paying attention, and Dillon was able to get him under the covers without incident. Jamie curled up into a ball, closing his eyes and burrowing under the blankets. Dillon stared at him for a full five minutes, his heart aching for the pain Jamie must have been going through. Eventually he left, pulling the door to and going downstairs to wait for Nate.

He didn’t have to wait long. He’d just reached the front hall downstairs when he heard the doorbell. Without even checking to see who it was, he turned the knob, letting Nate in with a weary sigh.

“Dr. Nash, you have no idea how glad I am to see you.”

Nate placed his medical bag on the floor and closed the door behind him. “How many times do I have to tell you, Dillon? My name is Nathan or Nate. No more of this Dr. Nash stuff.” Then he did something that surprised the heck out of Dillon. He wrapped both arms around him and pulled him into a crushing hug.

What surprised Dillon even more was how good it felt. Neither of his parents were touchy-feely folks. His mother was moderately affectionate, but his father rarely ever did more than pat him on the back, and the older he got, the less often that happened. Dillon found himself returning the hug tenfold.

“It’s gonna be okay, kid. I promise.” Pulling back, Nate said, “Where’s James now?”

“Upstairs, in his room. I thought he might rest better in bed.”

“Good thinking. Which room is his?”

“Last one at the back of the upstairs hall, to the right.”

Nate nodded. “I’m going to go up and examine him.” He reached down and picked up his bag. “Why don’t you see if you can find a phone number for his aunt while I check him over?”

“I will.” Phone number? Shit. He smacked his forehead. “I’ve got to call my boss. He’s gonna wonder where I am.”

“Go ahead. I’ll come back downstairs as soon I’m done.” 

Dillon waited until Nate was on his way upstairs and then pulled his cell phone back out. Dialing the number from memory, Dillon waited for someone to pick up.

“Savings Central Drugs. How can I help you today?”

“Carl? It’s Dillon. Is the boss around?”

Dillon wasn’t surprised by Carl’s next question, considering they went to the same school, though Carl was only a sophomore. “Hey Dillon. Did you hear about Ben Lewis?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh wow. I bet it was a drug deal gone bad. Everyone knew Lewis was a user. Either that, or a suicide. Oh, or a gay love triangle. Bet James Walker found him with another guy and offed his ass.”

Dillon gritted his teeth. “Carl, could I please speak to Mr. Pembroke?”

“What? Oh, sure Dillon. Just a sec while I get him.” Dillon was stuck listening to a lame rendition of a Garth Brooks song while he waited for what seemed like an eternity. He’d just about decided to hang up and try again when Jim Pembroke picked up.

“Dillon? Carl said you needed to speak with me. Sorry it took so long, son. I was in the back taking inventory.”

“No problem, Mr. P. I was calling to tell you that I’m not gonna make it in. I know it’s short notice, and I swear I’ll make up the time.”

“Nonsense. You’re the best worker I’ve got. You’ve come in above and beyond what was asked of you. In fact, I think this is the first time you’ve ever called in to tell me you weren’t coming.” Pembroke paused. “I hate to pry, Dillon, but is everything all right?”

“I think it will be soon, sir. I just need time to get a couple of things sorted out. If that’s okay?”

The warmth in Mr. Pembroke’s voice was reassurance itself. “You just take care of business, and I’ll see you as soon as you can make it back in.”

“Thanks Mr. P. See you soon.”

After hanging up, Dillon searched around for some idea of where Sadie might be. He’d just abandoned his efforts when the front door opened and Sadie came barreling inside. She spotted Dillon immediately.

“Dillon Carver. What are you doing in my house? And whose Buick is that in the driveway?” She looked around the living room, then marched down the hall to the kitchen. Coming back into the living room proper, she said, “Where on earth is Jamie, and what in the blue blazes is going on?”

Dillon was saved from having to answer by Nate, who came back downstairs at exactly the right time. “I think maybe I can clear that up, ma’am.” Nate walked into the living room and motioned towards one of the richly upholstered sofas. “Do you mind if we sit down to discuss this, Miss Banks?”

Sadie put her hand to her chest. “Dr. Nash, what are you doing here? Oh, lord. Is it Jamie? Is he all right?”

Nate took her elbow and led her to the sofa, joining her there and gesturing for Dillon to take one of the wingback chairs. When all were seated, Nate said, “Miss Banks, James has suffered a mild shock. Dillon found him wandering out on Harp Street, dazed and confused. He picked him up and brought him here after calling me to come and check him over. I gave James a brief examination, and it’s my feeling that the shock is only temporary. I can write him a prescription for a mild sedative, if you’d like, but in all honesty, I prefer to let these things run their course, especially given the nature of the situation. If you’d like a second opinion, however, I’ll understand completely.”

Sadie shook her head. “That won’t be necessary. I know your reputation, and I feel comfortable enough to go with you on this. But, Dr. Nash--”

“Please, call me Nathan.”

“Only if you’ll call me Sadie. Now, as I was saying, I appreciate you coming and looking Jamie over, but if someone doesn’t tell me exactly why my nephew is in shock, and just what in the bloody hell is going on, I swear before the Lord Jesus Almighty I will pull out my Grandmother Bank’s cast-iron skillet and lay open every last one of your thick skulls.”



Dillon could tell that Nate was doing his best not to crack-up. “You’re absolutely right, Miss Sadie, and I’m sorry for not explaining earlier. This afternoon, Brandon got a call about a suspicious death. Since today was his day off, the call came through to the house. I’d just finished up a shift at Chicago General, so I was at home when the call came in. I can’t give you any of the details, mainly because what little I know hasn’t been released yet. Since it seems that Principal Morgan jumped the gun and made the infamous ‘announcement’ over the loud speaker at school, I think it’s safe for me to tell you that the victim was Ben Lewis.”

Sadie pressed her knuckles to her breastbone. “Ben Lewis is dead? No wonder Jamie’s in shock, Lord love him. He must have heard that idiot Morgan’s little speech.” She sighed. “Are you sure he’s going to be all right? Can I see him?” 

“He was resting when I left, but of course you can see him anytime you like. As for whether or not he’ll be all right, my belief is that he’ll start to come out of it soon. If we don’t see an improvement over the next four to five hours, I recommend that we take him on into Chicago to have him examined more thoroughly than I can do here.” He stood up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go call Brandon and let him know where I am and what’s going on. If Jamie’s initial shock wears off the way I think it will, I’d like to have Brandon talk to him directly and explain exactly what happened.”

Sadie nodded. “That sounds reasonable to me. I’ll let him rest until the sheriff gets here. Oh, did you need to use the phone in the kitchen?”

“No, ma’am. I have my cell with me.” Nate pulled it out of his pocket. “I’ll just take my bag back out to the car and place that call.” It wasn’t until after he left that Dillon realized he was alone. With Sadie.

The minute Nate was gone, she did her version of a verbal pounce. “While I appreciate you bringing Jamie home, Dillon, given the dubious nature of your recent relationship--namely the fact that you threw my nephew away like a piece of trash two years ago--I think perhaps it’s time for you to go.”

The metallic taste of raw panic rose into Dillon’s throat. He’d just re-established a slight connection with Jamie, tenuous at best, but enough to have him hoping. He couldn’t lose it now. Clearing his throat, he said, “Miss Banks, please don’t send me away. I promise not to cause Jamie any pain, but I . . . I need to be here.”

Sadie’s hawk’s eyes narrowed on Dillon’s face. “And why is that?”

Dillon’s voice was choked with emotion, but he kept his eyes locked with Sadie’s. “Because I’m gay, and I’m in love with him.”

Instead of the stunned silence he expected to come from his announcement, Sadie nodded and said, “Thought so.”

Dillon felt like he’d been whapped with a brick. “You knew?”

Sadie shrugged. “Just because I never married doesn’t mean I don’t know what love looks like, nor does it mean I couldn’t see the way you and Jamie smiled at each other when you thought I wasn’t looking. And it didn’t take an act of genius to realize why the two of you spent so much time up in Jamie’s room. Didn’t take me long to put together the reasons why you broke off all ties with him, either. You were afraid your parents would find out, weren’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He got up and paced the length of the room. “I got scared and ruined everything.”

Sadie leaned back into the soft cushions of the sofa and smoothed her fingers over the skirt of her dress. “And what about now, Dillon? Aren’t you still scared? You and I both know your parents have been nothing if not vocal in their opposition of homosexuals.”

Dillon turned back to face her, his voice stronger this time. “I am scared. I won’t lie about it. I know that my folks will toss me out, and I also know that I’ll be basically on my own. I’m scared of their reaction, scared of the future, and scared of having to face it all. But I intend to tell them--and everyone else--all the same.”

“If you’re so frightened, then why come out at all?”

Dillon came back to sit beside her on the couch. “Because, as scared as I am of what’s gonna happen to me once I come out, I’m that much more terrified of living without James for another minute, much less the rest of my life.”

Sadie reached out and ruffled his hair the way she had when he and Jamie were kids. “You know you’re going to have your work cut out for you, don’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, you have my support.”

The front door opened and Nate came back in before Dillon had a chance to tell her how much that meant to him. The look on Nate’s face was grim as he removed his coat.

“Brandon’s on his way here. I’ll let him explain everything.” He hung his coat on the hall tree and tucked his gloves into the pocket. “I’m not sure how much of what he has to say will help James, but we can always hope. I’m going to check him over one more time before Bran gets here.”

Sadie and Dillon both nodded. Dillon longed to go upstairs with Nate, but forced himself to wait, instead. He prayed that whatever the sheriff had to say would give Jamie some peace, but the gnawing in his gut told him otherwise.

      #

Jamie fought his way through a fog of whispers and stirrings. He kept the truth about Ben at bay by pushing at it with a blank wall, a wall of carefully crafted ignorance. He could hear someone talking to him, but in the fuzzy blankness, it didn’t matter. Here, in this place, Ben was still alive because Jamie said it was so.

Gradually, though, the fuzzy comfort began to ebb. The reality of someone in his room, prodding at him, urging him back, proved to be too much. He didn’t want to go. He fought and struggled, but in the end, he was no match for the hypnotic pull of consciousness. He opened his eyes to see Nate Nash standing over him.

“How are you feeling, kid?”

Good question. He wished to God he knew how he was supposed to feel. Be nice if someone would just tell him how to feel and be done with it. Instead of saying all that out loud, his only response was a feeble shrug. He hoped his non-response would prompt the doctor to leave.

Nate more than matched him with persistence, though, and he showed no signs of giving up or going away. He sat down on the side of the bed. “Do you hurt anywhere, James? Any nausea or dizziness?”

Jamie’s reply was little more than a soft grumble. “No. I just wanna go back to sleep.”

Nate’s eyes were filled with sympathy. “I know you do, but I need you to stay with me for a few minutes. Can you do that?”

He didn’t want to. He wanted to yell, to tell the doctor with the kind words and soothing tones to get out, to leave him alone. But being raised by Sadie Banks marked a person with good manners for life. He heard his own voice betray him by saying yes.

Nate said, “Good. Brandon will be here in a few minutes, and I think he’ll want to talk to you.”

Jamie’s voice sounded small, fragile. “About Ben?”

Nate reached forward and smoothed Jamie’s hair away from his brow. “Yes, James. About Ben.”

Jamie backed away from the touch, as far as he could without unwrapping the layer of covers he had banded around him. Nate backed off, but didn’t move from his post on the edge of the bed. “I know you’re hurting, James, but you have people who care about you, who understand what you’re going through. Let us help.”

Jamie’s initial shock was slowly being replaced by anger. How dare this guy come into his room and start claiming he knew how Jamie felt? Manners be damned. Jamie sat up.




The Way You Say My Name Ch. 04



“You don’t know how I feel.”

If Nate was surprised by the venom in Jamie’s voice, he hid the reaction well. “I know it seems that way to you right now, James, but I swear, I do know what you’re going through.”

That did it. “Oh yeah? Did you lose your best friend?” Jamie was all but snarling.

Nate’s reply was basic, matter-of-fact. “Yes.”

Nothing dampens the fires of anger better than being proved wrong smack in the middle of a boiling rage. Jamie looked down at the covers. “Oh. Sorry.”

Nate actually smiled. “It’s okay, James. I was angry when I lost my Amy, too. Perfectly natural reaction.”

Amy? That name sounded familiar. Then it hit him. “Wasn’t that the lady doctor who was killed in an explosion?”

Nate’s eyes took on a far-away gleam as he nodded. “That was her. Dr. Amy Vaughn. She and I came here together from Georgia to open a medical practice. I won’t re-hash all the details, but the explosion which cost Amy her life was actually meant for me. I was a complete basket case after she died. It took me nearly a month just to function like a normal human being again.”

“How long were you guys friends?”

“Almost twenty-years.”

Jamie felt shame overtake him. “Damn. I’m such a prick. You lost your best friend of twenty-years, and here I am making you relive it when I barely knew Ben a tenth of the time you and she were together.”

Nate reached for Jamie’s hand, and this time, Jamie didn’t pull away. “Two years or twenty, it doesn’t matter. It still hurts to lose someone you care about. Every thing you’re feeling right now is perfectly natural. Don’t be surprised if you have a wide range of emotions to deal with over the coming days and weeks.”

Jamie sighed. “When does it stop hurting so bad?”

Nate squeezed his hand. “I don’t think the sense of loss ever goes away completely, but it does get easier to handle. I wish I could give you a time table, but it’s different for everybody.”

A knock on the door stopped further conversation. Nate looked to Jamie. “I imagine that’s Brandon. Are you ready for this?”

He wasn’t, but that didn’t keep him from nodding in agreement. Nate called out, “Come in,” and Brandon Nash entered the room.

Nate crossed over to where he stood and greeted him with a bracing hug and a peck on the cheek. “How’d it go?”

Brandon draped his right arm around Nate’s waist. “We won’t know anything more for a few days, not until the coroner’s report comes in.” He glanced towards the bed. “Is he ready for this?”

A spark of anger returned. Jamie sat up straighter on the bed “You don’t have to talk around me like I’m not here.”

Brandon grinned. “Sorry about that. According to Nate, that’s a bad habit of mine.”  

Jamie hunched one shoulder. “S’okay.”

“So, are you ready to hear this?”

Jamie leaned back against the pillows. “No, but I want to hear it, anyway.”

Brandon nodded and dragged one of the chairs closer. Straddling it backwards, as was his favorite position, he waited for Nate to resume his seat on the edge of the bed, then said, “I’m only gonna be able to tell you part of it, because this is an ongoing investigation, but I’ll do my best to tell you all I can.”

“Okay.”

“Just after breakfast this morning, I got a call about an accident out on Tully Road. The body of a young man was found, fully clothed, lying on the side of the road not far from a black, older model Firebird.”

“Ben.” 

“Yes. We’ll have to wait for the autopsy before we declare an exact cause of death, but all preliminary reports indicate he was the victim of a hit-and-run.”

Jamie clutched the blankets tighter. “He was murdered? You’ve got to launch an investigation, call in the F.B.I., whatever it is you do. You’ve got to put out an A.P.B. on the killer’s car. You’ve--”

“Hold it.” Brandon put up both hands to stop Jamie’s tirade. “Do all you kids O.D. on T.V. crime dramas?” Under his breath, he said, “When I get my hands on that idiot Morgan, I’m gonna rip his ass a new one for making that damn announcement.” He turned back to Jamie. “In the first place, nothing found at the scene indicates that Ben Lewis was murdered.”

“But you said--”

“What I said,” Brandon spoke slowly, much like one would speak to an unruly five-year-old, “was that Ben was the victim of a hit-and-run. Yes, it’s a crime to hit someone and leave the scene of an accident. When I find the person who did it, you can bet your last buck that I’ll see his ass prosecuted. I’ve got my men searching for the car even as we speak. But that doesn’t mean that it was a case of intentional homicide.”

Jamie’s blank look more than conveyed his lack of understanding. Nate stepped in. “What he means, James, is that Ben’s death was probably unintentional, and the guy who hit him ran scared and left the scene. Tully Road hosts a string of beer joints a mile long, literally. More than likely, the guy was drunk, didn’t see Ben standing there, hit him, and then panicked.”

“Why would Ben be out of his car in the first place?”

Brandon leaned his arms on the back of his chair, resting his chin on his forearm. “I can answer that. Ben’s front tire on the driver’s side was flat. Since his car was pointing back in the direction of the Reed City limits, he’d have been facing traffic while trying to change it. We found a disassembled jack and a tire iron not far from the body. Most likely, he’d just gotten them out of the trunk and was headed back to the front of the car when he was hit.”

Jamie wasn’t sure what to say. He appreciated the sheriff’s honesty, and he was glad to know what happened, but that didn’t take away the loss. If anything, knowing that Ben’s death was probably the act of some drunken asshole made it worse. His death was meaningless, just one more statistic on some nameless tally somewhere.

Nate cleared his throat. “Do you have any questions for us, James?”

“Just one. Did he,” his voice cracked. “Did he suffer?”

Brandon shook his head. “I can’t say for sure, not until the report comes back, but I honestly don’t think so. Going by his injuries, I’d say death came quick, if not instantly.”

Jamie went back to picking fuzz balls from the blankets. “Thanks.” He took a deep breath. “If you don’t mind, I think I’d like to be alone right now.” 

Nate stood up, and Brandon did the same. “We understand, James. I’m gonna leave a prescription for a mild sedative with your aunt, just in case you need it. And I’ll make sure she has all our numbers. You can call us anytime, for any reason. Also, if you’re okay with it, I’ll come back tomorrow to check on you, just to make sure you’re all right.”

Jamie nodded and lay back down, burrowing beneath the covers again, his eyes already closing. Brandon gave him an awkward pat on the shoulder before leaving, but Jamie barely felt it. He sank back into the merciful darkness and was asleep before they even left the room.

How long he actually slept, Jamie had no idea, but the first face he saw when he woke up was Dillon’s. He was sitting in the bedside chair, doing his homework. The minute Jamie stirred, though, Dillon was at his side, his books and papers scattering across the floor in his haste.

His green eyes sparkled in the dim light from Jamie’s bedside lamp as he leaned over to better see him. “Hey, you’re awake.”

“Yeah. What time is it?”

Dillon checked his watch. “Eight-thirty.”

Jamie sat up, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He turned to Dillon. “I thought you had to work tonight?”

Dillon eased down on the bed beside him, tucking one leg under his body. He was careful not to touch him, but they were close enough that Jamie could feel the heat coming from Dillon’s body. “I told my boss I wouldn’t be in this evening.”

“Why?”

Dillon shrugged, but Jamie noticed he was starting to look a little bit wary. “I thought you might need me, and I wanted to be here in case you did.”

For the first time since waking, Jamie gave Dillon a good looking-over. His hair was mussed, and his eyes were bleary, He looked tired, and the worry he was feeling was plain to see. For some reason, the sight of Dillon angered Jamie. So he’d been worried? So what? Jamie had just lost his best friend, the one person who was there for him when his life fell apart. No, when Dillon ripped it apart. For the first time since learning of Ben’s death, Jamie felt warm--hot, even--as two years of pain and an afternoon’s worth of grief mingled and came spewing to the surface.

“You thought I might need you?” Jamie was all but snarling, his sudden outburst startling Dillon so much that he jumped off the bed as if he’d been shocked. “That’s funny. You thought I might need you. What, like I needed you two years ago? Like I needed you to touch me instead of using me like some blow-up doll to get your rocks off?” He came out from beneath the covers and stood, oblivious to the fact that he was wearing only his thin, cotton boxers. “You know what, Dillon? I didn’t need you. Know why? Because I had Ben. When you fucked me over and tossed me away, he stepped up. He was there for me. You think now that he’s gone you can just slide in and take his place?”

Dillon took a step back. “No, that’s not what I think. I told you, I want us to be friends again.”

Jamie kept advancing. “Uh-huh. Like we were friends two years ago? What’s the saying? Friends with benefits? Someone to watch movies with, go to ballgames together. Oh, and lets not forget, someone to bend over and take it up the ass whenever you’re feeling froggy.”

Dillon swallowed, his eyes misting. “I know what I did to you, James. I’ve lived with the guilt and shame of it until it feels like I’ve never been without it. There’s nothing you can say to me or about me that I haven’t said to myself.”

Jamie was so close that he was practically in Dillon’s face. “Oh, yeah? Well, how about this? Get out. Get out of my house and out of my life.”

Dillon’s spoke softly, but his voice was strong. “You don‘t mean that.”

By now, Jamie was full-on yelling. “The hell I don’t. You threw me away two years ago, and now it’s my turn. My turn to hurt you, to make you feel like you’re bleeding internally, deep down where nobody can fix it. Like Ben probably bled.” The tears came, damn them, but he blinked them away. He had to finish this, had to wound Dillon the way he’d been wounded. “You wanted Ben dead so he’d be out of the way. For all I know you hit him yourself, then left him to die on the side of the road like some dog.” No amount of blinking was gonna stop the tears this time, but Jamie ignored the flow of water down his cheeks. “I hate you, more than I’ve ever hated anybody. You took him. You took Ben. Oh, God, he’s gone.” It was too much. Jamie’s knees gave way beneath him.

Two strong arms caught him before he hit the floor. Dillon scooped him up, cradling him to his chest as Jamie sobbed through the pain, the misery. He felt himself being carried back to the bed. He thought he should probably protest, but he didn’t have it in him.

Dillon laid him in the middle of the bed. As Jamie watched through the sheen of tears in a strange mix of fear and fascination, Dillon pulled his shirt over his head. Jamie heard his shoes fall against the hard wood flooring as he toed them off, along with his socks. He made quick work of shedding his jeans, but the disrobing ended there, leaving him clad only in a pair of tight gray boxer-briefs. His body was even more defined, even more beautiful, than Jamie remembered. The anger began to fade as Dillon slid under the covers and gathered Jamie against his chest and into his arms.

Jamie shuddered from the contact, causing Dillon to pull the 

covers tighter around them, the hard muscles of his chest bunching beneath Jamie’s cheek as he moved. “You warm enough?”

“Yeah.” Only after he said it did Jamie realize that his sobs had stopped.

Using one corner of the blanket, Dillon wiped Jamie’s eyes and cheeks. Jamie felt like he should say something, but he wasn’t sure what. “Dillon--”

“Don’t try to talk right now. Just rest.”

He shouldn’t have been tired, but he was. Still, as crazy as it seemed after ordering Dillon out of his house not ten minutes earlier, there was one fear he had to cast aside before he could go to sleep again. “You won’t . . .leave, will you?”

He could feel the soft rumbling against his ear as Dillon chuckled. “I think it’s a safe bet that you aren’t gonna get rid of me anytime soon.”

Jamie closed his eyes and pressed his cheek against Dillon’s bare, heated skin. “Dillon?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t hate you.”

Dillon ran his fingers through Jamie’s hair, brushing against his scalp and making Jamie tingle down to his toes. “I’m glad you don’t, James. Now rest. I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

Jamie nodded and then allowed the sound of Dillon’s heartbeat to lull him to sleep.

      #

Dillon woke with a start to find Jamie’s left leg draped over both of his. He took a minute to savor the feeling of Jamie’s body wrapped around him before he looked down at his watch. Damn. Eleven o’clock. He was gonna catch hell for this one. 

Taking care not to wake Jamie, he disentangled himself and then sat up, rolling Jamie onto his other side. He couldn’t help but smile over the way Jamie grumbled in his sleep and then scooted back over to find the warmest spot. He allowed himself only a minute to enjoy the sight of watching the man he loved sleep before reaching down and picking up his jeans, retrieving his cell phone from the right front pocket. Dillon punched in the number, watching the whole time to make certain he wasn’t disturbing James. Other than the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing, Jamie didn’t make a sound.

His mother picked up almost on the first ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Mom. It’s me.”

“Dillon, where are you? Do you have any idea what time it is? You were supposed to be home two hours ago.”

“Yes, ma’am. I do know that, but something came up.”

“It had better be a matter of life and death, young man, to justify staying out to all hours like this.”

Well put. “Actually, it was. Ben Lewis’s body was found today. I’m sure you heard about it at school.”

“Yes, I did. Most unfortunate, but not surprising considering the lifestyle he chose. Those people usually come to a bad end.”

That again. Dillon was a stone’s throw away from telling her that he was one of those people, but he stopped short. Tonight was about Jamie, not him. There’d be time enough for true confessions later. Gritting his teeth, he said, “Regardless of whether or not he was gay, the guy’s dead, Mom.”

“As I said, Dillon, that’s unfortunate, but I don’t see what that has to do with you? I mean, you and Ben Lewis were hardly friends. The two of you did your level best to tear each other apart at the dance. I talked to Principal Morgan today. He said the only reason he didn’t expel the both of you is because Sheriff Nash hauled you downtown. He figured that was punishment enough. You’re lucky.”

Dillon loved his mother--he really did--but sometimes she could be so dense it set his teeth on edge. “I’m sure Ben will really appreciate not being expelled now that he’s dead. Must be a huge load off his mind.”

Angela Carver’s voice took on that acid tone that Dillon so hated. “Your sarcasm is not appreciated, son. And you have yet to tell me what Ben Lewis’s death has to do with the reason you didn’t come home.”

His next words would be the beginning of the end, but Dillon wasn’t backing down. “James Walker was Ben’s best friend. He was devastated by what happened. I found him out on the road after Principal Moron’s announcement, wandering around in shock. I brought him home, and that’s where I am now.”

“I thought your father and I made it clear that we don’t approve of your friendship with that boy.”

“That boy was the best friend I ever had. If I’m lucky, he will be again.” That and a thousand things more.

“Dillon, I’m not sure what’s gotten into you tonight, but we’ll discuss this when you get home. I expect you here within the next fifteen minutes.”

“No.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Dillon was shaking, but he kept his voice steady. “I’m not coming home tonight, Mom. I promised James I wouldn’t leave him, and I’m not going to.”

The ice in his mother’s voice made Dillon feel ill. “I don’t recall giving you a choice.”

He was already in it up to his eyeballs. Might as well finish himself off. “You may not have given me a choice, Mom, but I made one just the same.”

“So I see. Your father and I are going to discuss this, Dillon. I expect you to be at home tomorrow when I get in. Principal Morgan has called a teachers meeting directly after school thanks to this nasty business with Lewis, but it shouldn’t take more than an hour. I’ll ask your father to come home early, and the three of us are going to have a long talk about your attitude and your association with James Walker. That’s not a request.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

His mother hung up without saying goodbye, but Dillon didn’t care. It wasn’t like she was gonna be talking to him for much longer, anyway. 

A soft voice broke him out of his revere. “I guess I got you in a world of shit with your folks, huh?”

Dillon looked down into Jamie’s face. He was glad neither of them had thought to turn the lamp off before they fell asleep. In the muted light, Jamie looked so achingly perfect that Dillon had to fight with himself not to lean down and kiss him. Instead he said, “You big faker. How long have you been awake?”

“Long enough to know that your mother is mad as hell.”

“So, what else is new?”

Jamie sat up, the sheet falling away from his waist, exposing his flat stomach and making Dillon itch to trace the slight indentation of Jamie’s belly with his tongue. It took him a minute to realize Jamie was speaking to him. “Still, I hate being the one to cause problems for you and your family.”

“It’s not your fault they’re bigots, James. I think it’s sorta like poetic justice that two of the biggest homophobes in Reed got stuck with a gay son. Talk about a karmic bite to the ass.”

Jamie laughed, the first time Dillon had heard that sound since lunch. “I guess so. I never really though about it like that.”

“Let’s not even worry about it right now.” Dillon slouched down a bit so he could see Jamie’s face. “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think it’s really hit me yet, you know?”

“I guess that’s normal. Probably take a few days to sink in.”

“Yeah.” He lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry for all that stuff I said to you. I didn’t mean it. I know you didn’t have anything to do with Ben’s death.”

Dillon gave a slight tug to the hair and the nape of Jamie’s neck, forcing his head up. “You have nothing to be sorry for. It was no secret that Lewis and I weren’t overly fond of each other.” His voice turned husky. “I am glad you don’t hate me, though.”

Jamie blushed, then went for the subject change. “I did rest better that last time. Thanks for . . .um, you know.”

“Stripping down and getting into bed with you?” Jamie nodded and tried to hide his eyes again, but Dillon wouldn’t let him. He turned enough so that they were facing and put one hand on Jamie’s neck, just below his chin. “It was my pleasure, believe me, but it wasn’t exactly an original idea.”

Jamie scrunched his eyebrows together. “What do you mean?”

“Did Dr. Nash--I mean Nate--tell you about losing his friend Amy?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, just before he left, Nate told me that he had a breakdown after Amy died. When he finally let himself cry it out, Brandon did the same thing with him that I did with you.”

“Well, I’m glad he told you about it, because it worked.”  

Dillon moved his fingers back and forth over Jamie’s throat. “Thank God it did. It hurt me so bad to see you suffering like that.” He moved closer, so that his leg was practically on top of Jamie’s. He lowered his head. “I wanted so much to make the hurting stop.”




The Way You Say My Name Ch. 04



Jamie lifted his chin and closed his eyes. Dipping down, Dillon could almost taste him. His own eyes fluttered shut. They were almost touching, when the door flew open.

Sadie stood in the doorway, wearing pink pajamas and a long, fuzzy white robe. She hid a grin as the two of them scrambled to opposite sides of the bed. “You’re awake. Thank heavens. I was starting to worry. Are you feeling better, then, Jamie?” Her tone was even, just as if she found her nephew in bed with a half-naked man everyday. 

“A little.” He looked at Dillon from the corner of his eye. “Dillon helped me through the worst of it, I think. For tonight anyway. Dr. Nash said grieving is a process, but I think I’m at least on my way.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” She gave Dillon a knowing smile. “I assume you’re spending the night?”

It was Dillon’s turn to blush. “Yes, ma’am. Um, that is, if it’s all right.”

“Of course. Though, perhaps it would be better if you passed the remainder of the night in the guestroom.” An order, not a suggestion. She might be open minded, but even that had its limits.

“Yes, ma’am.” Dillon started to get out of bed, but remembered he was wearing only his underwear. “Uh, Miss Banks?”

Sadie laughed. “I’ll just make certain the guestroom bed has fresh sheets.”

As soon as she left, Dillon scrambled into his jeans. The rest of his things he gathered into his arms to take with him. He was all loaded up and on his way to the door when Jamie said, “Dillon?”

“Yeah?”

“Sweet dreams.”

Dillon smiled down at him. “You too.” He knew Jamie’s would be anything but sweet, right now, anyway. But someday soon, he hoped they would be. And maybe, if he was lucky, those dreams would include him.

      #

Dillon parked his car in the usual space. Shutting off the ignition, he turned to Jamie. “You sure you want to do this? Your aunt said she’d write you an excuse so you could stay home today.”

Jamie zipped his coat and donned his gloves. “So I can do what, sit at home all day and think about Ben? About how much I’m going to miss him? I’m better off here.” His voice dropped so low that Dillon could barely hear him. “I’m better off with you.”


Dillon reached over and squeezed his hand. “Okay, then. Meet me back here for lunch?”

“How about meeting me at the lockers, instead? It’s too damn cold out here.”

Dillon laughed and got out of the car. “I’ll see you then.”

If days went any slower, Dillon had never seen one. Besides a myriad of cracks about the fact that he was wearing the same clothes he wore yesterday, Dillon’s school day started with a thirty minute period of mourning for Ben Lewis led by none other than Dan Morgan himself. The auditorium was filled to the brim with crying girls (most of whom had no idea who Ben Lewis even was) and a passel of laughing jocks who saw this as a prime opportunity to perfect the fine art of the spitball. Dillon did his best to catch a glimpse of Jamie, but the throng of pseudo-grievers made it impossible. Megan sat beside him through most of the assembly, rolling her eyes every time Morgan started in about the “brevity of life” and the “utmost importance of living each day to its fullest.” A few times, Dillon was certain he’d laugh out loud. Once Megan even stepped on his foot to keep that from happening. The mark of a true friend. The one bright side during the whole assembly was that he didn’t see his mother either. Time enough for the crucifixion after school.

The three remaining classes before lunch weren’t much better. Lots of talk about Ben from people who wouldn’t have spit on him if his guts were on fire. Not while he was alive, anyway. Seems that sudden death made a guy downright popular.

When the fourth period bell rang, Dillon was ready. He had vivid fantasies of kidnapping Jamie and keeping him for the rest of the day, the two of them shutting out the whole world. Unfortunately, Ashton Barnes and Chad Minton put a stop to that.

They were waiting for Dillon at his locker. Ash and Chad made quite a contrast. Ash was tall and slender, whereas Chad tended towards to the short, chunky side. Ash’s hair was a rich black, cut fairly short and shot through with auburn lights which made his brown eyes seem even darker. Chad was a blue-eyed blond with a buzz cut. Ash was old money, and Chad was no money. Even so, Dillon could count on one hand the times he’d seen one without the other. Hell, they even went out on the weekends screwing girls together: Ash and his girl in the front seat of his BMW, Chad and his girlfriend du jour in the back. Now that was devotion.

Dillon was hoping Jamie would come so he’d have an excuse to leave, but he saw no sign of it. Hell, he’d hoped to squeeze in as much time with Jamie as possible, but it looked like he was gonna have to make small talk with Barnes and Minton, instead. He motioned Chad, who was leaning against Dillon’s locker, out of the way, and fumbled with the lock. “What’s up?” It wasn’t until after he said it, that Dillon noticed how angry Ash looked.

Ash stood with his fists balled, his feet braced, and his spine rigid. “I heard some rumors about you, Carver. I was 

hoping you might clear ‘em up for me.”

Dillon threw his books inside and slammed the locker door. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Megan and a several others gathering in the hall. An audience. Well, wasn’t that just heaven on a stick.

Dillon leaned one shoulder against the metal door, keeping his voice calm and his posture relaxed. “Rumors, huh? You don’t say.”

“That’s right. Word has it you spent the night at James Walker’s house last night. Considering those are the same clothes you had on yesterday, I’m guessing it’s true.” Ash was doing all the talking, but Chad stood beside him, bobbing his head in agreement every time Ash spoke. He reminded Dillon of those little flocked-plastic dogs people put on the dashes of their cars.

Dillon was the poster boy for who-gives-a-damn, but inside he was seething. Damned if he’d let it show, though. As calmly as if he were discussing the cafeteria’s mystery meat special, Dillon said, “I’d be glad to clear that little rumor up for you, Barnes, but seeing as how it’s none of your business, I don’t think I will.”

Ash stepped closer. “I’m making it my business, Carver. Word’s out that you and Ben Lewis were fighting over James that night at the dance. I also heard that you had lunch with him yesterday.”

Dillon crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you, Barnes? The friendship police? I wasn’t aware that having lunch with a friend or spending the night with a buddy was a crime.”

Ash wasn’t giving up. “Yeah? Well, the way I hear it, you and Walker are a lot more than friends. What’s up, Carver? You fagging out on us?”

Oh, this was just great. Ash was the one who called him about the planned gay bashing at the dance. What was with this homophobic jock routine? Well, to hell with him. Dillon wasn’t going to play his little games. In as clear a voice as he could muster, he said, “No, Barnes, I’m not fagging out on you.”

He heard a noise behind him and turned to see Jamie, his face pale and stricken. Dillon had been about to clarify his last statement, but Jamie didn’t know that. He though Dillon was going to deny him yet again. The spark of anger Dillon had seen last night was now a blazing inferno.  

Jamie threw his books on the floor and faced Dillon, not caring that he was six inches shorter and about forty pounds lighter, or that half the school was watching him. He looked so small and so cute, that Dillon would have laughed over the whole damn thing if it weren’t for the look of pain in Jamie’s beautiful eyes.

“So much for coming out, huh, Dillon? Tell me something. Exactly when weren’t you ‘fagging out’? Was it when I was on my knees sucking your cock that you weren’t a fag? Or were you just a straight boy in disguise all those times you fucked me?”

That was it. The whole city of Reed could watch for all he cared, but Dillon was gonna show Jamie how he felt about him once and for all. “I never fucked you.”

Dillon could see the tears forming in Jamie’s eyes. He started to speak, but Dillon put up his hand. “Not yet. You’ve had your say. It’s my turn now.” He turned his back on Barnes and all the rest, using his body to force Jamie backwards until he was up against the lockers, with Dillon in his face. Putting one hand on each side of Jamie’s head so he couldn’t get away, Dillon spoke, his voice loud enough for everyone within twenty feet to hear, his eyes only for Jamie.

“What I was about to say when you walked up, James, was that I wasn’t ‘fagging out’ because that implies that I just woke up one morning and became gay. How can I ‘fag out’ when I’ve known for sure that I was gay for over six years?”

The gasps and whispers behind him following that little announcement reminded Dillon of something you’d hear in a cheesy movie. If they thought that was a shocker, the illustrious student body of Plunkett High hadn’t seen anything, yet.

“And as far as the other part goes, I stand by what I said. I never fucked you, James.” Jamie tried to protest, but again Dillon cut him off. “I was a selfish bastard. I got off on you without ever giving anything back, and for that I’m more sorry that you’ll ever know. Even as lowdown and rotten as I was, though, I never once fucked you. Every time I slid into you, every time you took me into that sweet, tight body of yours, it was making love.” Then Dillon lowered his head and covered Jamie’s mouth with his own. 

    {To Be Continued} 



The Way You Say My Name Ch. 05



At first, Jamie was too startled to respond as Dillon’s mouth came down on his. But as Dillon’s tongue began a slow assault against Jamie’s lips in an effort to get them to open, Jamie felt his body--and his resolve--melting. He opened his mouth and gave Dillon entry.

Dillon teased and tasted him until Jamie thought he would go insane. He could feel the bulge in Dillon’s jeans, which didn’t help his own condition any. It was everything a first kiss should have been, audience or not. Just when Jamie was wondering what the punishment for having sex in the school hallway would be, Dillon pulled away. He kissed the tip of Jamie’s nose and whispered, for Jamie’s ears only, “I’m sorry to embarrass you in front of everybody like this, baby, but I couldn’t think of any other way to show you how I felt.” Before Jamie could answer, Dillon straightened up and turned back to Barnes, shielding Jamie with his body.

“Does that answer your questions, Barnes, or do you have some more for me?”

Ash may have been shocked, but quick recovery was one of the things that made him such a hot commodity on the football field. And his temporary shock had made him no less angry. This time, though, his anger was redirected at Jamie. “God, Walker, you’re somethin’ else. Ben isn’t even cold yet and you’ve already moved on. So much for true love I guess.”

Jamie came out from behind Dillon, his eyes blazing. “What would you know about it, Barnes? You barely even knew Ben. If you and those dickwads you call friends ever spoke to him it was to tell him to fuck off or to call him a queer or a fag. Where in the hell do you get off telling me what I’m supposed to feel?”

“Who you calling a dickwad, Walker?” Chad stepped up. He wasn’t any taller than Jamie, but outweighed him by a good sixty pounds, not that Jamie cared. He could take him.

“You, no-neck. I’ve seen you and Rooster Carmichael hassling Ben more than once.”

Chad took a step forward, but once again, Dillon shielded Jamie with his body. Jamie should have been pissed about being protected like a child, but he wasn’t. Knowing that everything Dillon was doing was done because he cared about him so much made all the difference.

Chad took another step towards Jamie, but Dillon’s next words stopped him cold. “Touch him and you’re a dead man, Minton.”

Ash was on that in a second. “Making threats, Carver? Did you make the same kind of threats to Ben? What did you do, warn him off Walker and when he didn’t back away decide to run him down with your car?”

He knew how Ben had died? Sheriff Nash said that information hadn’t been released to the public yet. “How did you know that Ben was hit by a car?”

Ash shrugged. “Everybody knows. It’s all over town.”

Chad came to stand behind Ash. “What you getting at, Walker? You trying to say Ash had something to do with Lewis’s death? You’re the one who’s cheating on his dead boyfriend.”

Dillon started to say something, but Jamie reached in front of himself and squeezed Dillon’s hand. “Ben was never my boyfriend. He was my best friend, and he knew exactly how I felt about Dillon.” Jamie’s voice dropped and fought hard not to tear up. “I loved Ben, and I’ll miss him for the rest of my life, but we were never in love. There’s a big difference.”

Ash snorted. “Yeah, right. That’s why Ben was licking your tonsils at the dance Friday night.”

He might have said more, but the sharp clacking of footsteps sounding down the hall broke them all apart. Principal Morgan took one look at the four of them, squared off in the center of a mass of onlookers and said, “What’s going on here?” 

Ash went first, the suck-up. “Nothing, sir. We were just . . . talking.”

Morgan lifted one perfectly shaped eyebrow and put his hand on his Armani clad hip. How the hell did a high school principal afford Armani, anyway. “Talking, huh? Is that what they call it? Looks more like you were settling in for a sparring match to me.” He looked to Jamie. “James, were these boys bothering you?”

God, Jamie wanted to wipe that smug look off Barnes’s face. But he couldn’t do it without getting Dillon in trouble, too. “No, sir. Like he said, we were just talking.”

Morgan made no bones about his lack of belief, but he must have decided to let it slide, because he said, “Fine then.” He addressed the group as a whole. “All of you, show’s over. Get to class.” He waited until all of the onlookers, and Chad and Ash, left before turning back to Dillon and Jamie. “You want to tell me what really happened, James? Off the record, I swear.”

Jamie shook his head. “It was nothing, Mr. Morgan, I promise.”

“If that’s what you tell me, than that’s what I’ll go with, but just remember, if you ever need to talk, you know where to find me.” He waited until Jamie nodded and then took his exit.

As soon as Morgan left, Megan came charging back from her hiding place on the opposite side of the double doors leading to the main hall. She was out of breath and her face was flushed.

“Boy, do you two know how to make a scene or what? I thought Ash Barnes’s eyes were gonna pop out of his skull when you kissed James like that.”

Dillon leaned down to pick up the books Jamie had dropped earlier. Jamie had forgotten all about it, himself, but he was warmed that Dillon was still taking care of him. Dillon handed the books and papers to Jamie, but his words were for Megan. “Barnes isn’t usually such an ass, but I’m glad, at least, that he knows know where I stand.” Dillon reopened his locker and took out his coat. He fished a twenty out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Listen, Megan, I promised James some lunch, but I’ve got something I need to take care of. Would you mind taking him, instead?” He gave Jamie an affectionate smile. “This guy here still doesn’t know how to drive.”

Jamie shook his head. “I can eat in the cafeteria, and I’ve got my own money.”

Dillon closed his locker and put on his coat. “I know that, but I’m gonna ditch for the rest of the day, and I don’t want you to be alone any more than you have to be. And before you start, I know you can take care of yourself.” His eyes grew soft as he looked at Jamie, making Jamie feel strong and alive. “But you had a bad shock yesterday, and even though you’re feeling better, Nate says these things can boomerang on a guy. Please, just do this for me, okay?”

Jamie wasn’t sure what to say, but Megan stepped in so the point became moot. “We’ll go out to lunch, Dillon, and spend every dime of that hard earned money of yours.” Her tone was light, but Jamie could hear a slight quivering in her voice. “And don’t worry about James. I’ll see that he makes it home this afternoon, safe and sound.”

Home. That’s when it hit Jamie. Dillon wasn’t just ditching school. He was going home to pack. When his mother heard about that kiss--and she would, probably any minute now--Dillon would be thrown out of his own home. Dillon hadn’t just proved his feelings to Ash and Chad. He’d outed himself to the whole world.

Jamie moaned. “Oh, God, Dillon. Your parents. I am so, so sorry.”

Dillon came to stand in front of him, using his left hand to brush Jamie’s hair away from his forehead. “Don’t you dare apologize to me. None of this is your fault. I’m gonna go home and pack up so I’ll be ready to leave by the time they get there. My dad will bitch a little bit, but there’s really not anything he can do.” Dillon leaned forward and nuzzled his nose against Jamie’s. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

“Where will you go. What--”

“Shh. I’ll be fine.”

Jamie was getting desperate. “Let me go with you. I can help.”

Dillon shook his head. “I appreciate that, more than you know, but this is something I have to do by myself.” He kissed Jamie one more time and then took off.

Jamie was devastated. He sank back against the lockers and was doing a slow slide to the floor when Megan grabbed his arm and hauled him back up.

“Oh no, you don’t. First rule of a crisis is ‘deal with it, now--fall apart later.’ And this is a crisis if ever I saw one.”

Jamie nodded. When Megan was right, the girl was right. Dillon needed him too much for him to wuss out now. “I’m hoping you have a plan.”

Megan patted his cheek. “One thing you’ll learn about me, James. I always have a plan.”

      #

Dillon pulled into the driveway. It was amazing the things a person noticed when he was going home for the last time. The swing hanging from the porch that had a missing slat. The tree he planted for Arbor Day when he was in the fifth grade. And that was just the yard. The interior of the house was no different. When Dillon unlocked the front door and went inside, the creaking of the hinges his father was always after him to oil, coupled with the smell--that smell that was unique to every home, everywhere--was almost enough to make him want to take it all back. But the taste of Jamie, still fresh on his lips, the feel of him, the scent of his hair, was more than enough compensation. Pastor Oakley once preached about that verse from the Bible, “What does it profit a man to gain the whole world and lose his own soul?” At the time, Dillon hadn’t understood, but now he thought he did, only in reverse. He was about to lose everything, the whole world as he knew it. But it didn’t matter. He was getting his soul back. As long as he had Jamie, he could do this. Even though they weren’t technically together again, yet, the last two days had given him hope, something he hadn’t felt for a long time. 

The actual packing itself didn’t take long. He’d stopped at a fast food place on the way home and gotten some boxes. He emptied drawers, closets, and shelves, not lost to the irony that his entire worldly goods fit into six large boxes labeled Happy Time Burger Palace. The Place Where Happy Smiles Stretch A Mile. 

When he was sure he had everything he wanted to keep, Dillon loaded up his car. It took some doing, but he was able to cram it all in there. Thank goodness he wasn’t a packrat like his brother. It had taken a moving van to get Heath out of the house. Funny, all it took to get Dillon out was one kiss and six boxes.

When he was finished, Dillon moved his car from the driveway to the street and locked it, just in case his dad tried to block him in or stop him from leaving. Not that he would. Dillon was pretty sure Doug Carver would be all too happy to shed himself of his “deviant” son. That done, Dillon came back in and sat down on the couch in the living room to wait. He didn’t have to wait long.

At four thirty, he heard his mother’s car come tearing into the drive. She must have phoned his father from school, because Dillon heard his dad’s Jeep pull in right behind her. Time to face the firing squad.

Angela came in first. Her hair was mussed and Dillon could tell she’d been crying. He might have felt guilty, if not for the first words that came out of her mouth. “Thank God you’re here. I know all about that Walker boy attacking you in the hallway, son. We’re gonna see him prosecuted for trying to molest you like that.”

Doug was in full agreement as he slammed the door behind himself and motioned for Dillon to stand. “Get your coat, Dillon. We’ll go down to the police station right now and press charges. We’re going to the city cops, too. No use in trying to get any help from that pansy sheriff. We’re going to bust Walker for trying to force himself on you.”

Dillon stood up, but made no move towards his coat. “You’ve got it backwards. I’m the one who kissed James, not the other way around.”

“Nonsense. Now, you get your coat right this minute, and your mother and I may be willing to forgive you for your insolence last night and that lie you’re spinning right now.”

“It’s not a lie. I kissed James. I can get any number of people to back up my story. How do you think Mom heard about it? Dozens of witnesses saw me back him up against the lockers and stick my--”

“Stop it!” His father’s face was turning a mottled red as he tugged against his shirt and tie. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, son, but I will not have that kind of filth talked about in my house.” 

Angela went in search of the phone book, finally finding it in a side table drawer. Flipping through, she said, “I’ll tell you what’s gotten into him. That James Walker has lured him into this. What we need now, Doug, is to cancel out his influence. A friend of mine told me about a good doctor just outside Chicago who’s excellent at deprogramming kids who’ve been brainwashed like this.”

Brainwashed? Good God. “Mom, I don’t need to be deprogrammed. I’m gay, not a cult member.”

Doug snorted. “Same difference. I warned you what would happen if you kept hanging around that damned Nash family. Every last one of them is going to hell for sanctioning that sham marriage between Brandon Nash and that doctor of his. What did those two do, son? Get you alone and play around with you a little?”

Angela warmed to the idea. “That’s it. Instead of calling the doctor we should call the police, but for Nathan and Brandon Nash instead of James Walker. Dillon just turned eighteen, which means he was probably a minor when it happened. We could have the Nash’s arrested for raping him.”

Dillon could feel himself starting to lose control. He did his best to rein it in. “No one did anything to me. Neither Brandon nor Nathan Nash would ever touch me. And like I said, I kissed Jamie because I wanted to. I’ve been wanting to for years.”

Doug took his coat off and slapped it down on the coffee table. “I’ll not stand here and listen to my son talk about being a damned . . . a worthless . . .”

“A what, Dad? What is it you usually call us? Poofs? Queers? Sodomites? I don’t think there’s one I haven’t heard yet.”

Doug was so mad his eyes were bulging, but Angela wasn’t ready to give up the whole coercion theory. “Honey, these feelings you’re having aren’t real. This is James Walker’s fault, all of it. He has you in thrall, darling. He’s responsible for this . . . this,” try as she might, she couldn’t seem to find the right words.

Dillon knew exactly what to say. Listening to his parents stand there and slam Jamie like he was some evil guru was taking its toll. “What’s the word you’re looking for, Mom? You insist James is responsible for my being gay, so let’s think up a good word for that. Metamorphosis? Nah, too much like a butterfly, and those are beautiful, whereas us sinners are ugly. How about ‘the change?’”

Doug’s voice was solid steel. “Stop it.”

But Dillon was beyond listening. “You’re right. The change sounds too much like a female thing. We homos may be girlie boys, but not quite that girlie, huh, Dad? I’ve got it. How about ‘gayification?’ As in, ‘James is responsible for my ‘gayification.’ Wonder if they make a repellent for that? You know, some spray that keeps all those gay germs at bay. Something like, ‘Gay be Gone,’ or ‘Gay Away.’”

Douglas took a menacing step towards his son. “I’m warning you now, Dillon. Shut up.”

“No, Dad. You shut up. Shut up with all the slams against Jamie and all the excuses you keep throwing out so you won’t have to face the truth. I’m gay, Dad. I’m a fag. A great big butt-fucking one. God willing, I’m gonna marry Jamie and we’re gonna settle down and raise lots of little fagglets together.”

“Dammit, I said that’s enough.” Douglas raised his hand and was about to strike when a voice at the door said, “Go ahead, Carver. I’d love a chance to lock your ass up for assault.”

All heads turned at once to see Brandon Nash standing in the doorway, Megan and Jamie behind him. Brandon unclipped a pair cuffs from his belt. “Go ahead, Dougie. We’re waiting.”

If there was one thing Dillon’s father hated more than gays, it was being called Dougie. But even as filled with rage as he was, he wasn’t stupid enough to go after Brandon. Instead he looked down at Dillon. “Get out of my house. You’re not welcome here, anymore.”

Angela was crying, but Dillon ignored it. Grabbing up his jacket, he started for the door. He’d almost made it to where Brandon and the others waited, when Douglas said, “Dillon?”

“Yes, sir?” He almost choked on that ingrained bit of respect, but he got it out, anyway.

If Doug felt anything for his son besides disgust, he didn’t show it. “Give me back your house key, boy. If and when you come to your senses and ask for forgiveness from this path to Hell you’ve chosen, then you can come back. Until then, if you step one foot onto this property, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing and breaking and entering.” He turned back to Brandon. “Did you get that, Sheriff Nash?”

Brandon gave him a two fingered salute. “I hear ya loud and clear, Dougie, and I’m sure Dillon did, too. That’s the thing about the braying of a jackass. It’s pretty hard to miss.”

Douglas was just before having some kind of seizure, he was so pissed, but Dillon didn’t so much as look at him. He pulled the house key off his key ring and laid it on the coffee table. Without a second glance towards either of the two people who brought him into the world, Dillon left.

Outside, the frigid evening air helped to clear his head. As soon as they were off the driveway and on the public street, Jamie all but flew into his arms. He nearly knocked Dillon over, but Dillon could have cared less. Jamie felt so damn good against his chest, Dillon didn’t care if the two of them ended up in a pile on the street.

Jamie slid his arms into Dillon’s coat so that he was as close to actual skin as he could get. “Thank God you’re okay. I was worried sick.”

Dillon hugged him tight and took a long, deep breath of his hair. “I’m fine, James. I told you I would be.” He glanced over Jamie’s head at Brandon. “I owe you more than I can ever pay back, man. Thanks.” He grinned next at Megan. “And the same goes for you, baby girl. I have a feeling you’re behind all this.”

Brandon said, “Yeah, and that’s a bone I’ve got to pick with you, kid. I told you to call me anytime you needed me. Why, then, do I have to hear that you’re in a boat load of trouble from my baby sister, and not from you? I told you to call anytime, day or night. You called Nate yesterday to help out with James, but you wouldn’t call me to help out with that prick you call a dad. It’s enough to give a guy a complex, I tell you.”

Dillon felt Jamie laugh against his chest, and he couldn’t help but smile himself. “I’m sorry, Sheriff, uh, Brandon. It won’t happen again. I just didn’t want to be a bother.”

“Well, next time, you call. As far as being a bother goes, that’s what family is for.”

Dillon raised one eyebrow. “Family?”

Brandon shrugged. “That’s right. Family. I figure if being the fake boyfriend of my baby sister for almost five months doesn’t make us related, then what does? So, from now on, you call.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now, did you get all your stuff from the house?”

Dillon nodded, still refusing to let go of Jamie. “Yep. It’s all in my car.”

“Good. I want you to come stay with Nate and me.” Dillon started to speak, but Bran said, “No arguments, either. I called Nate at the hospital, and he’s all for it.”

Jamie pulled back so he could look Dillon in the eye. “You don’t have to, Dillon. You can come stay with me.”

Dillon traced the line of his cheek with one finger. “We’re not ready for that, yet. You know it as well as I do.”

“I know, but I’m the one who got you kicked out of your house.”

“No, you didn’t. My parents kicked me out. We both knew this was gonna happen.”

The sound of a truck coming up the street stopped the conversation. Dillon almost did a double take when he recognized the vehicle. Heath.

Heath parked behind Dillon’s Lumina and got out, walking over to where they stood. “Nice night for a family reunion, huh? 

Dillon looked back towards the house. He could almost feel his parents peering out through the picture window in the living room, trying to see into the rapidly falling dusk. He ignored the prickling of the hairs on the back of his neck and gave his full attention to his brother. “Heath, what are you doing here?”




The Way You Say My Name Ch. 05



“Someone,” Heath flashed Megan a brief grin, “called to tell me that you might be in some kind of trouble. Wanna tell me why I had to hear that my baby brother needed a hand from a third party, and not from the man himself?” 

Brandon said, “The kid seems to have a problem with the whole asking for help concept. I fully expect to have to force him to come stay with Nate and me.”

Heath nodded. “Ah, yes. Guess the ‘kiss that rocked Plunkett High’ didn’t go over too well with Ma and Pa Carver, huh?”

Jamie and Dillon both blushed, but it was Dillon who said, “Good news travels fast. Let’s just say Mom and Dad now have one son, and it ain’t me.”

Heath’s grin was pure mischief. “In that case, they won’t have any offspring left when they find out you’re living with me.”    

Dillon thought maybe his ears needed cleaning. “With you?”

“Yep.” Heath glanced back at Brandon. “I know you asked squirt here to come stay with you and the Doc, Sheriff, but you guys are still newlyweds. The last thing you need is some snot-nosed kid to look after.” When Brandon started to protest, Heath said, “Besides, I moved out because I couldn’t stand living under old Adolf Carver’s roof any longer.” His eyes softened as they focused on his little brother. “The only drawback to not living with them anymore was missing Dillon.” The lightness came back into his voice. “This’ll give us a chance to catch up.”

Brandon nodded. “I can understand that, but do you have enough room at your place?”

“It’s a one-bedroom apartment, but I have a fold-out couch.” 

Brandon started to speak again, but Dillon stepped in with, “It’s just until I find my own place, anyway, Sheriff. Like I told you before, I’ve been expecting this to happen, and I’m prepared.”

“Look, Dillon, there’s no need to find a place of your own. Nate and I would be glad to have you for as long as you want to stay. That way, you could save all your money for when you start at Garman in the fall.” Not until he said it, did Brandon realize what he’d just let slip. “Damn. I didn’t mean to say that.”

Jamie stepped away so he could give Dillon a long, searching look. Dillon could feel all the color draining from his face as Jamie watched. He must think Dillon was some kind of stalker or something. 

“You’re going to Garman? In New York?”

“Uh, yeah. I was gonna talk to you about that, James. I just got my letter the other day.”

“Either you already knew that I’m going to Garman, too, or this is one heck of a coincidence.”

Dillon felt more in knots now than he had fifteen minutes ago when he thought sure his dad was gonna hit him. He cleared his throat. “I knew.” When Jamie didn’t say anything, Dillon rushed out, “I knew, and I put in for Garman so the two of us could be in the same place, but I swear I wasn’t stalking you or anything.”

If Jamie was upset, he sure didn’t show it. “Pity. I was looking forward to an obscene phone call every now and then. How are you at heavy breathing?”

Dillon’s breath rushed out of his lungs in a gust of relief. “You’re not mad, then?”

Jamie reached out and tentatively took his hand. “No, Dillon. I’m not mad.”

Brandon was also the picture of relief. “Thank God. I thought sure I’d screwed things up with my big mouth.”

It was Jamie’s turn to flush. “Speaking of big mouths, what I did today, Dillon, outing you like that . . . God, I was so wrong. I’ve never told anyone except Ben about us, and that was just because he put two and two together and figured it out. Please, don’t be angry.”

Dillon grinned. “I’m not. You didn’t see me denying it, did you?” He reached out with his free hand and traced one finger over Jamie’s lips, following every dip and curve. “As I recall, I made certain no one had any doubts left as to what team I play for.”

Jamie smiled and leaned into Dillon’s hand. “Yeah. You did do that, all right.” He cast his eyes downward a little bit. “Not that I’m complaining.” 

Heath said, “I hate to break up this greeting card moment, little brother, but you still haven’t told me whether or not we’re gonna be rooming together.”

Dillon sighed. “I don’t want to put you out, Heath. I know you have . . . friends . . . over on a pretty regular basis.”

Heath’s eyes darted over to Megan before focusing once again on Dillon. “If you’re talking about women, let’s just say I don’t have any ‘friends’ who’ll be staying the night and leave it at that.” He grinned. “So, what do you say? You gonna hang out with me, or set up shop at the Sheriff’s place?”

Brandon and Nate were great people, but Dillon had to admit, he’d feel more comfortable staying with a member of his family--the only family he had left, for all intents and purposes. “Thanks, Heath. I’ll take you up on it, but I still wanna find my own place as soon as I can.” He smiled at Brandon. “Thanks for the offer, Brandon, but if you and Nate don’t mind, I think I’ll move in with Heath for a while.”

Brandon shook his head. “Not as long as you know that the offer’s always open.” He grinned. “I don’t blame you for wanting to move in with your brother, but Nate’s gonna be so disappointed. He was looking forward to the pitter-patter of little feet.”

      #

Megan dropped Jamie off at his aunt’s just before nine that night. Moving Dillon into that pigsty Heath called an apartment had been an experience, but it hadn’t taken as long as Jamie would have thought, even without Brandon’s help, since the sheriff had been called back to his office. One thing that saved time was not having to move any of Heath’s stuff out of the drawers and closets to make room for Dillon’s things. Most of Heath’s clothes and other possessions were already on the floor.

Still shaking his head over the shape of Dillon’s new home, and remembering Megan’s comment that she knew self-respecting gutter rats that wouldn’t live in that place, Jamie went into the house. He found Aunt Sadie in the kitchen, still dressed in her day clothes and nursing a cup of hot chocolate. She motioned for him to sit down.

“For someone who didn’t cause me a spec of trouble for over fourteen years, you’ve made up for it with a vengeance today, my boy.”

Jamie sank into the chair. “What happened?”

Sadie pointed to the old fashioned dial phone on the wall. “That thing has been ringing nonstop since I got home at six, and the answering machine in the den had about six messages on it from before I even got here.” Sadie took a long sip of her drink. “Must have been some kiss.”

Damn. “Aunt Sadie, I can explain.”

Sadie placed her cup back on its china saucer. “Just answer me one question. Did you enjoy it?”

Jamie’s face was on fire. “Yes, ma’am, I did.”

“That’s all I needed to hear. As long as you weren’t forced into anything, I say what you and Dillon do is your own business. I told Douglas Carver as much when he called, raving about how my ‘deviant’ nephew had corrupted his virginal son. Three of the messages on the machine were from him, by the way. The fourth time he called, he got me. Bet that insufferable ass wishes now I hadn’t picked up.”

He wouldn’t doubt that a bit. “What did you say to him?”

Sadie did her best to look all sweet and innocent, the perfect picture of old fashioned gentility. Jamie wasn’t buying it for a second. She shrugged. “Nothing much. I pointed out that you and Dillon were both over the age of eighteen, and that, as a lawyer, he should know that you’re past the age of consent to do whatever it is you feel like doing together. I also told him that since those dreadful, arcane sodomy laws were struck down by the Supreme Court a few weeks ago, it was none of anyone’s business. Of course, we haven’t had sodomy laws in Illinois since 1961, so there was never any question.”

“How did you know that?”

Sadie patted his cheek. “When you told me you were gay, sweet boy, I made it my business to know as much as I could, just in case. I simply told Douglas Caver what I’d learned.”

That didn’t sound so bad. “Is that all?”

Sadie toyed with the handle of her cup. “Well, I may have mentioned that I read somewhere that homosexual tendencies are usually passed down from father to son, so Douglas should clean out his own closet before he starts trying to slam the doors on others.”

God, he loved that woman. “You heard no such thing.”

“No, I didn’t, but Douglas Carver doesn’t know that. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s going through his family tree even as we speak trying to find the infidel who started all this ‘homosexual debauchery,’ as he called it.” She giggled. “Listening to him sputter and spew made all the other phone calls bearable.”

Jamie sighed. “Who else called?”

“That bubble-head Morgan called, wanting to make certain you were all right. He said you had some trouble in the hallway at school this afternoon.” Jamie was about to speak, but she stopped him. “No need to go into it, Jamie. I figure it had something to do with that kiss Douglas Carver was fuming about, and the less I know about it, the better.” She thought for a minute. “Let’s see. Who else? Oh, Nathan Nash called. He was planning on coming by here to check on you, but since you seem to be over the worst of the shock, we deemed it unnecessary. He did say to call him if you get worse, again. He also told me about Megan’s phone call to Brandon and about Dillon’s being thrown out of the house. If I were a man, and about twenty years younger, I’d go over there and give Dillon’s father the worst beating of his miserable life for treating his own child that way.”

“Aunt Sadie, if you were twenty years younger, you’d do it, man or not.”

“Good point. Where’s Dillon staying, by the way?”

“With his brother.”

“I bet Douglas and Angela will love that one. It’s no matter for them, reaping what they’ve sown and all that.” She got up to take her now empty cup to the sink. “Did you want some cocoa, dear?”

“No, ma’am. Were those all the phone calls?”

Sadie drizzled dish soap into her cup and swished it around while she thought. “There were two more on the machine, both from someone named Anton, or Alton. Something like that.”

“Ashton?”

Sadie turned back to Jamie as she twisted the knob and opened the faucet. “That’s it. Ashton. He left a number where he could be reached, but never gave any real message other than a request for you to call him. I wrote the number down for you, if you want to call him back.”

Jamie wasn’t ready to face that yet. He was still smarting from his confrontation with Ash and Chad, not to mention wrestling with a guilty conscious about Ben. He missed Ben, but it was Dillon he ached for. Why couldn’t he have given Ben more? More love, more attention. Ben, who’d known so little joy in his life, had done more for Jamie in the last two years than any friend he’d ever had. Jamie owed him, and now it was too late to repay the debt. 

“Jamie, did you hear me? Should I get that number for you?”

“Sorry. No, ma’am. I’ll just catch him at school tomorrow.” Not really. Not if he could help it, anyway.

“Well, it’s on the notebook by the den phone if you change your mind. Oh, and before, I forget, Nora Slater called.”

Jamie’s heart sank. Poor Nora. She must be devastated, and he hadn’t even thought to call her. He didn’t realize he’d said it out loud until Aunt Sadie came back to the table and squeezed his shoulder.

“Jamie, Nora’s buried two husbands. She, of all people, understands about grief. She called to see how you were, and she also said she’d like to talk to you as soon as possible.”

“Should I call her tonight?”

“No. She sounded worn through, poor thing. It might be best to wait until after the arrangements are made. Hopefully, the inquest will be settled soon and you can all get on with your healing.” She wrapped her arms around him and cuddled him close, the way she had so many times before. Jamie relished the feelings. He’d almost forgotten what his real mother looked like, Sadie being the only mother he ever needed. He relaxed under the coddling. Unfortunately, the phone rang.

Sadie snorted. “I should have taken that blasted thing off the hook and been done with it.” She started for the phone, but Jamie got up and shook his head.

“I’ll get it, Aunt Sadie, You’ve had to field enough calls today.” He crossed the room and lifted the receiver. “Hello?” 

“James? It’s Nate.” 

“Hey, Doc? What’s up?”

Nate hesitated. “First, tell me how you’re feeling.”

“I’m okay. I still hurt, and I miss Ben like crazy, but I guess that’s normal. That’s what everyone’s been telling me, anyway.”

“It is normal. Just let me know if it gets worse.”

“I will. Is that why you called, to check on me? Not that I don’t appreciate it, because I do.”

“I know, James. I’m glad you’re out of the worst of it, but I’d be lying if I said that’s the only reason I called.”

Jamie was afraid to ask, but the words came out anyway. “What is it?”

“Brandon wanted me to call you and let you know what’s going on. He’d have called himself but he’s down at the station, wrapping up some loose ends. He’s made an arrest, James. He caught the man who hit Ben.”

{TO BE CONTINUED}



The Way You Say My Name Ch. 06



Jamie sat with Dillon in the sheriff’s office, waiting as patiently as he could manage while Brandon chugged down a gallon of coffee. When he realized they were both watching him, Brandon looked up with an apologetic grin.

“Sorry about that. I was up all night trying to wrap up this case.”

“I know. Nate called me.” Dillon gave Jamie a hesitant glance before continuing. “He also said you had something to tell us.”

“Yeah, and I appreciate you coming down here before school. I know it’s damn early, but I wanted you to hear this from me before Morgan decides to make another little ‘announcement.’” 

Jamie cringed, remembering all too well Dan Morgan’s last nasty surprise. “Did you ever figure out how he knew about Ben?”

Brandon made a face. “He and I had a discussion about that very thing. Morgan claims he heard it through the student grapevine. After ever so politely telling him I think he’s full of shit, I had a nice long chat with Morgan about what will happen the next time he leaks information about an ongoing investigation.”

Dillon grinned. “Translated, that means you ripped him a new one.”

“Let’s just say I made no secret about my displeasure, or the fact that I’ll take great joy in locking his ass up for obstruction if he does it again.” Brandon sighed. “But that doesn’t mean he won’t. Guys like Morgan think they know everything and have no problem sharing what little knowledge they’ve actually gleaned with the rest of the world. That’s why I wanted you to hear this from me first.”

Jamie’s whole body went rigid. He felt Dillon take his hand, but, as comforting as that was, Jamie didn’t even look at him. All his attention was focused on the sheriff and what he was about to say.

Brandon didn’t waste any time getting to the point. “As soon as we found Ben’s body, I contacted every auto-repair shop within a three hundred mile radius, asking them to get in touch with me if anyone came in with extensive front-end damage and/or a story that didn’t quite add up. Yesterday evening, I got a call from a shop over in Naperville, a place called Clyde’s Customs. A guy had popped in early Monday morning, almost the minute the owner, Clyde Shire, got the doors open. He was driving a Ford Taurus, and claimed he’d hit a dog which was lying in the middle of the street. The minute Clyde saw the amount of damage to the guy’s grill, bumper, and undercarriage, he felt sure the man was hiding something, but he had no idea what. He might have just dismissed his suspicions altogether if it hadn’t been for the man’s behavior. He was nervous, agitated, and insistent on getting the work started that day. When Clyde told him it would be a week before he could even get the parts, the guy freaked out and took off. That’s when Clyde called me and gave me the guy’s tag number. The guy never did give Clyde his name.” He paused long enough to take another swig of his coffee before looking to Jamie again. “Now, before I tell you the rest of it, you need to know that this investigation is far from closed, so I’m only gonna be able to give you the details that the D.A. is releasing to the press this afternoon. I got permission to go ahead and give Ben’s friends and family an advanced warning. I’ve spoken with Nora already, so now it’s your turn to here this, as unpleasant as it is.”

Dillon gripped Jamie’s hand tighter as Jamie said, “I understand, Brandon, and I’m grateful for the heads up.” 

“Like I told Dillon, Nate and I want to help you guys any way we can, James.” He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. “That having been said, here are the details I can give you. My men traced the tag number to a woman named Marcy Sledge.”

Jamie wondered if he looked as confused as he felt. “I thought you said a man brought the car into Mr. Shire’s shop?”

“I did. Marcy Sledge may be the registered owner of that car, but there’s no way she was driving it.”

“How do you know?”

“Mainly because she’s been dead for seven months. We at the Reed County Sheriff’s Department frown on deceased persons operating motor vehicles. They tend to veer to the left.” Brandon reached for the top file on a stack of about twenty located on the right side of his desk. “Marcy Sledge may not be with us any longer, but her son is.” Brandon removed a picture from the file and handed it to Jamie. “Meet Mr. Barry Sledge, age forty seven.”

Jamie’s free hand shook as he took the picture. “He’s the one who--”

Brandon’s eyes filled with sympathy. “Yes. Technically, the investigation is still ongoing, but he’s the one who hit Ben. There’s no doubt.” 

Jamie felt Dillon lean over to better see the photo, but Jamie’s eyes never left it. He searched every inch of the ordinary face in the mug shot: the slightly crooked nose, the brown eyes, the graying hair. It was plain from his deep wrinkles and many scars that Barry Sledge was no stranger to hard living, but nothing in the photo indicated that the man was a killer. He looked just like someone you’d meet on the street or in a bar. Nothing sinister about him. For some reason, that angered Jamie. This guy was responsible for taking Ben’s life. How dare he look so normal?

Brandon leaned forward and took the picture from Jamie’s hand. “I know that look, James, and I know what you’re feeling.”

Jamie doubted that. “You do?”

“Yeah, I do. You were expecting the man to be some kind of monster, maybe have red eyes or some horns. How could a normal, average Joe have taken Ben’s life? You’re thinking there must have been some kind of mistake.”

Okay, so he did know. “Yeah. It doesn’t fit.” 

Brandon put the picture back in the file. “Let me tell you something, kid. Between my time with the F.B.I. and my stint here, I’ve been a cop for almost nine years. I’ve arrested more people for more crimes than I can even count, but I have to tell you that I haven’t seen a perp yet who fit that ‘monster description.’ Oh, I’ve arrested some truly evil bastards, but not a one of them looked the part.” He moved the file back on top of the stack and leaned forward, his hands clasped in front of him. “Because any arrests and/or convictions a suspect has that don’t fall into the juvenile category are a matter of public record, I can tell you that Barry Sledge is the epitome of the town drunk. Three D.U.I. convictions--the last one of which landed him in jail for twenty-two months--six arrests for public intoxication, two mandatory commitments to a state-funded drug rehabilitation center, and a five-year suspension of his driver’s license. The guy’s a walking statistic.” 

And now Ben was a statistic, too. A dead one. Jamie shook himself, wanting to free his body of the grief and anguish, but it didn’t help. Ben’s death meant nothing, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Brandon spoke again. “Look, James, if you’re not ready to hear the rest of it, this can wait.”

“No, Sheriff, please. I need to hear this.” Jamie felt Dillon squeeze his hand.

Brandon nodded. “As soon as I ran the plates and found out that Marcy Sledge was dead, I looked for her next of kin. That’s how I found out about Barry. I showed his mug shot to Clyde Shire who made a positive I.D. The actual arrest was text book. Sledge was still living in his mother’s house, so we didn’t even have to hunt him down. We found the Ford in back, behind an old shed and covered over with a tarp. Good old Barry was in the house, stone drunk. We impounded the car, hauled Sledge down to the station, and then waited for the guy to sober up. The minute Barry Sledge’s head cleared, he was ready to cut a deal. He gave a full confession, and we have several witnesses who saw him tossing back tequila shots in a bar not far from the accident scene. So, with any luck, this thing is a done deal, and we won’t have to take it to trial.”

Jamie’s head shot up. “What do you mean it won’t go to trial?”

Brandon sighed. “I figured that was gonna be a sticking point for you. James, the court system is so flooded these days--even in a small town like Reed--the District Attorney will do anything he can to lighten the case load. A jury trial could take weeks and cost into the thousands, not to mention the time it will take just to get to trial. With Sledge pleading guilty, all the D.A. will need to do is set-up a quick allocution hearing where Sledge will admit to his crimes and the judge will pass sentence.”

Jamie’s eyes flashed, his anger so potent he crushed his fingers into Dillon’s hand without realizing it. Dillon grunted, and Jamie let go altogether. He mumbled a quick, “Sorry” to Dillon before turning back to Brandon. “A sentence that will be less than what he would get from a jury. Because he’s pleading guilty, he gets to cut a cushy deal.” 

“I wouldn’t exactly call it cushy, kiddo. The charge is vehicular homicide. With his previous convictions, Sledge is looking at a mandatory twenty-year sentence before he can even be paroled.”

Jamie stood up, his body lance-straight. “What? I’m supposed to feel sorry for the guy cause he’s a falling down drunk and gets twenty years in prison? So he gets twenty years? So what? At least he’s got twenty years left. What does Ben have? A date with the worms?”

Dillon stood and approached Jamie with caution. He reached out for him, his voice soothing. “James, I know you’re upset, but Brandon’s doing his best for us, and for Ben.”

Jamie knew Dillon was right, but it didn’t help. He ignored Dillon’s outstretched hand, but did offer a weak apology. “Sorry, Sheriff. This is just hard for me, you know?”

“Yes, actually, I do. I lost a close friend myself, once. The bastard who did it--” Brandon broke off and looked away, but not before Jamie saw the fine sheen of moisture in his eyes. When he finally turned to face them again his eyes were clear. “I know how hard this is, kid, but I think at least knowing what happened will give you some closure.” He stood up. “Speaking of closure, Nora wanted me to let you know that Ben’s body has been released for burial. She’s having him cremated, so there won’t be an actual funeral. A memorial service is being held Saturday night starting at six, at the First Christian Church.”

The First Christian Church? That was where Brandon and Nate went. Jamie knew that because Megan and Dillon had both mentioned it. Since Ben and Nora didn’t go to church at all, Jamie knew without having to ask that the service was Brandon’s doing. Jamie said, “Dillon, could I have a second alone with the Sheriff, please?”

If Dillon was bothered by the request, he didn’t show it. “Sure. I’ll go down and start the car, let it warm up a little bit.” He gave Jamie a wink and walked out.

As soon as Dillon left, Jamie walked over to where Brandon stood and held out his right hand. “I just wanted to, uh . . . say thanks. For what you did for Ben, I mean. I know you were probably the one who set up the memorial service.”

Brandon shook Jamie’s hand. “No big deal.”

“Yes, it is. Ben didn’t have a lot of friends in this town. Truth be told, he only had one real friend. Me. I’m the first to admit, he wasn’t the easiest guy in the world to get along with, but the only reason people didn’t warm up to him is because they couldn’t see how special he was.” Damn. His eyes were getting watery again. Better finish this before the blubbering started in full. “Anyway, thanks.”

Brandon shrugged. “All I did was make a couple of phone calls. Nothing major. I was glad to help, James.”

“Call me Jamie, and please tell Nate and Megan that they can call me that, too, if they’d like. It’s what all my friends and family call me.”

Brandon propped himself in a sitting position on the corner of his desk. “I’ve noticed that Dillon calls you James. Doesn’t he fall in the ‘friend’ category? You guys seem a bit more touchy feely than you did before all this happened.”

Jamie stared down at his feet. “I don’t know what category he’s in, to tell you the truth. I haven’t really thought about it.”

“No offense, kid, but I’ve seen less manure than that in my grandpa’s cow pasture.”

Jamie looked up, but he saw no mockery in Brandon’s eyes, only understanding. Still, he wasn’t ready to admit to anything. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, I think you do. You loved Dillon once. In fact, I think you still do, but that isn’t the point. You loved him, and you lost him. Just when it looks like the two of you might finally have a chance to make things work, after all this time, you lose your best friend, only on a permanent level. Now you’re afraid to put yourself out there again, afraid history is just going to keep repeating itself. How close am I, here?”

Jamie didn’t say a word, but he didn’t have to. Just the look on his face was confirmation enough that Brandon was dead on.

Brandon ducked his head so he could look Jamie in the eye and crossed his arms over his chest. “I can’t say I know what you’re feeling on this score, kid, but I can say that I’ve talked to Dillon, and I believe he’s sincere when he says he wants to make a go of it with you. Coming out to his parents was a damn good start.”

“I know.”

“There’s something else that’s holding you back, isn’t there? Something besides Ben’s death.”

Jamie’s cheeks burned, but he answered, anyway. “Yes, but I’m not sure if I can talk about it. It’s kinda . . . personal.”

Brandon raised a brow. “Sex?”

Jamie nodded, but he refused to meet Brandon’s eyes. He heard Brandon draw in a deep breath and mumble, “Damn. This is Nate’s department, not mine.” Louder, he said, “Does this have anything to do with the way Dillon was before? Taking without giving anything back?”

“Sort of.” Jamie felt uncomfortable discussing his sex life with a guy he barely knew, but at the same time, he really needed someone to talk to. “See, the thing is, I don’t really think that Dillon would treat me like that again. Would use me, I mean. He actually kissed me the other day, in front of everybody.” When Brandon nodded, Jamie said, “Right. You already knew that. Anyway, he kissed me, and he’s been holding my hand and being pretty damned open about it. But still, there’s a big difference between a couple of kisses and actual, uh . . .”

“Sex, kid. It’s called sex. Intercourse. The horizontal mambo. Bumping Uglies. The grind--”

“I get the point.”

Brandon tried not to grin, but it came through anyway. “Sorry. I get carried away. Look, Jamie, I’m not exactly an expert on the subject of young love, but if Dillon cares about you the way I think he does, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Jamie brushed his hair back from his forehead. “I know that, logically, and I’m with you. I really don’t think Dillon would use me like that again. But at the same time, I have no idea who he’s been with--or what he’s done--since we broke up. I’m afraid he has all these experiences to fall back on, and I . . . well, I don’t. Dillon’s the only guy I’ve ever been with, and that was two years ago.”

The light went on in Brandon’s head. “You’re worried because you think you may be too inexperienced for him?”

Jamie squeaked out a yes, eyes still focused on the worn tile floor. Brandon said, “Jamie, look at me.”

Jamie obeyed, albeit reluctantly. Brandon gave him an encouraging smile. “Finally, you’ve hit on an area where I have at least a little bit of experience.” 

“What do you mean?”

“When Nate and I met, he was a virgin, kid, and I do mean a virgin.”

Jamie couldn’t believe it. “Doc Nash?”

“One and the same. Whereas you’ve gotten a good head start on the whole sex thing with Dillon, Nate had zero to fall back on. And you know what?”

“What?”

“I could have cared less. Nate was all I wanted, and I wouldn’t have cared if he’d been with one guy or a hundred. I’m willing to bet Dillon feels the same way.”

Jamie shuffled his feet. “I hope so, but even if he does, I’m not sure it’s the right time to even be thinking about sex.”

“Why not? You’re eighteen-years-old. At eighteen, I was a walking erection. Thinking about sex was pretty much my main occupation.”

His too, but Jamie wasn’t gonna say it. Instead, he said, “Yeah, but Ben’s been gone less than a week. It wouldn’t be right to fall into bed with Dillon. Would it?”

“That’s a pretty broad question, but like I told Nate when he was grieving for his friend Amy, you’re the only one who can answer it. Personally, I think sex is an affirmation of life, especially between two people who love each other, but that’s something you have to work out on your own. My best advice is to take it slow and see what happens.”

Jamie blew out the breath he’d been holding. “I was hoping you could give me some magic formula so I’d know when the time was right.”

“No such luck, kid. ‘Dear Abby,’ I’m not.”

Jamie actually smiled over that one, despite his inner conflict. “Maybe not, but she couldn’t have helped me any more than you did today. Thanks, Brandon. And thanks for what you did for Ben.”

“Like I said, Jamie, anytime. Now, get out of here before school starts. And, Jamie?”

“Yes?”

“I know you’re upset about Sledge cutting a deal, but Ben’s killer will get what he deserves. I’m sure of it.” 

Jamie nodded to be polite, but something deep inside told him that Brandon was wrong. Dead wrong. 

#

Dillon’s first day back at school since the big out coming wasn’t at all what he’d expected. He’d dropped an unusually quiet Jamie off at the door to his home room and then headed to his own class. Except for a couple of whispered comments and one ‘faggot’ thrown at him by Rooster Carmichael, most everyone who’d spoken to him had been positive, even downright friendly, about his newly established orientation. One kid asked him to join the G.S.A., and another patted him on the back and said, “Way to go.” A couple of girls whom he’d never really paid attention to before were looking at him like he was fresh meat, probably planning on trying to convert him. He and Jamie had taken Megan to Hailey’s for lunch, and, even there--away from Dan Morgan’s ‘gay utopia’--the climate had been nothing but pleasant among adults and students alike. He’d also managed to avoid even a glimpse of his mother, something he was in no way ready for. Now, here he sat, in his last class of the day. He’d almost convinced himself he was home free when Dan Morgan’s voice came over the intercom. “Mr. Matthews?”

Dillon’s English teacher said, “Yes, sir?”

“Send Dillon Carver to my office, please.”

Dillon’s heart sank as he gathered up his books and went to answer the summons. And here he thought he’d made it. Damn. He should have known better.

The Principal’s office was just a stone’s throw away from the English department. Dillon forced himself to knock on the door. He almost bolted when Morgan called out, “Come in,” but he made himself open the door, anyway. Better just to get it over with.

Morgan stood when he saw Dillon. “Ah, Dillon. Good, you’re here. Please, close the door and have a seat.”

Dillon took the chair across from Morgan’s desk and dropped his books onto the floor. While Morgan seated himself, Dillon took the opportunity to look around. He’d only been in this office once, in his freshman year, when Mr. Foley had been the principal, and Dillon had gotten busted for lobbing water balloons from the gym balcony. Mr. Foley had decorated the room with pictures of his wife, kids, and grandkids. Morgan, on the other hand, had painted the gray cinder block walls a rich brown to match the stylish mahogany desk. Framed art prints graced the walls, and an oriental rug covered the vinyl floor. The only artwork on Foley’s walls had been crayon drawings and educational posters. Morgan’s office looked more like that of a young executive than that of one belonging to a high school principal.

Morgan sat back in his chair and laced his hands together, his index fingers forming a steeple that he pressed to his lips. “I supposed you’re wondering why I called you down here.”




The Way You Say My Name Ch. 06



“I have a pretty good idea.”

“Yes, I’m sure you do. That kiss you gave James Walker yesterday kicked up quite a stir.”

“Yes, sir, I know it did, and I also know it’s against school policy. Before you suspend me, though, I want to make it clear that James had nothing to do with it. I kissed him, and if anyone should be punished, it’s me.”

Morgan shook his head. “You misunderstand me, Dillon. Neither of you is going to be punished. Yes, kissing on school property is frowned upon, but under the circumstances, we’ll overlook it, just this once.” Morgan paused, more for affect, Dillon thought, than anything else. Finally, he continued with, “I called you in here to talk about your mother.”

Dillon’s body went on high alert. “My mother? What’s she got to do with this?”

“Dillon, I understand that this is a tricky situation, but I’m going to be as candid as I can, here. Your mother called me at home last night, ranting and raving about you and James. She wanted me to expel James for what she called your ‘corruption,’ and she wanted me to have the school counselor refer you to a psychiatrist. She also hinted that since you’re eighteen and out of her reach, I should tell said psychiatrist that I feel you’re a danger to yourself and need to be admitted to a state hospital for observation.”

“She said what?” Dillon could feel hot blood racing through his veins.

Morgan put up his hand. “Calm down. I told your mother in no uncertain terms that I would do no such thing. Not only is it illegal, but it violates your rights and goes against everything I believe in. Angela may be a gifted teacher, but I’m not about to let her use Plunkett as a forum to further her own personal prejudices. I told her as much last night.”

Dillon snorted. “Bet she liked that.”

“Actually, she told me that she won’t come back to work as long as you and James are still students here. I reminded her that a refusal to come in goes against her contract. She refused to budge on her position, leaving me no choice but to suspend her without pay pending a school board hearing. In all likelihood, your mother is going to be fired.”

Dillon felt sick. He might not approve of what she was doing, but he still loved his mother and hated knowing that he was the reason she was losing the job she’d held for the last fifteen years. He sighed. “Any chance she can keep her job? She has tenure here at Plunkett, and James and I will be graduating in less than four months. Couldn’t she just take a leave of absence until then?”

Morgan shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Unfortunately, Angela has a reputation for taking her agenda against homosexuals into the classroom with her. I’ve had several complaints from the parents of gay and lesbian students, all claiming that Angela singled them out and treated them with less care than the so-called ‘straight’ kids. So far, I haven’t had any solid proof of wrong doing, so she’s kept a clean record. Now, though, having seen the extent of her bigotry firsthand, I can say with all honesty that I no longer want her working for this school.”

Dillon slumped down in his chair. He hated this, all of it. So what if he was in love with another guy? Why did the whole world have to go nuts over it? Dejected, he gathered up his books and stood. “Was that the only reason you wanted to see me?”

Morgan rose from his chair and came around the desk to stand in front of Dillon. He put his hand on Dillon’s arm. “That, and to tell you that I admire you for being brave enough to be honest about your sexuality.” The hand on Dillon’s arm started moving in soft, slow strokes that made Dillon feel queasy. “I know it couldn’t have been easy, and if there’s anything I can do for you--anything at all--just let me know.” He used his free hand to reach into the pocket of his silk shirt and pulled out a card. Dillon reached for it, and Morgan put up the palm of the hand holding the card flat against Dillon’s chest. “Just remember, I’m on your side. I’m a good man to have in your corner. I have ‘connections.’”

Dillon moved back enough to break Morgan’s hold. Reaching out before Morgan could stop him, Dillon grabbed the card and said, “Uh, thanks, Mr. Morgan. The last bell is gonna ring, and I promised James I’d give him a ride home, so, if there’s nothing else, I’d better go.”

Morgan nodded and smiled that ultra slick grin. “Of course. I know you and James probably have things you need to take care of. Just remember what I said and call if you need me.” Then the bastard winked.

Dillon couldn’t have moved any faster if his feet had been on fire. He tore out of the office and made straight for the bathroom. He splashed water on his face, hoping to calm himself. Had Morgan just hit on him? He could still feel the touch of Morgan’s fingers as they’d slid over the fabric of his shirt. He had to be imagining things. No way would a successful principal hit on one of his students. That just didn’t happen. Not in Reed, Illinois, anyway. Dillon was definitely loosing it. He thought maybe he should talk to someone about it, but decided against it. They’d just think he was crazy. Even so, he tossed Morgan’s card in the trash before leaving to meet James.

#

For the next two days, Dillon and Jamie did a sort of polite dance around each other. Their conversations were comfortable enough, but there was no hint of the romance Dillon was aching for. Megan kept telling him to give Jamie time, and not to push. Dillon knew she was right, but the one taste he’d had of Jamie had him longing for more of the same. If Jamie felt the same urges, though, he hid it well.

Dillon groaned as another ridge from the lumpy sofa bed frame pressed into his back. He really needed to go apartment hunting. Not only was he working on a serious case of bed back, but he just couldn’t stand to keep living in this mess Heath called an apartment. Not without a tetanus shot. He’d cleaned where he could, but his efforts were futile in the face of all of that filth. Dillon was no neat freak, but he drew the line at three week old pizza lying out on the table and the thin black layer of grease surrounding the tub. He rolled over and sighed. Saturday morning. He didn’t have to report back to work at the pharmacy until Monday night. He should try to go back to sleep, but he couldn’t. Tonight was the memorial service for Ben, and Dillon was worried. Not about the service itself, but about Jamie’s reaction to it. Brandon had said something about closure, but Dillon had serious doubts as to whether or not Jamie was gonna find it. 

Finally giving up on the idea of getting any more rest, Dillon untangled himself from the covers and stood, stretching to rid himself of the last traces of sleep. He located a pair of clean jeans, buried underneath a pile of plastic grocery sacks Heath had unloaded last night and then thrown on the floor. Dillon couldn’t even gripe at his brother about it because Heath had already left for work. Dillon shook his head and reached for his shirt. Might as well start the day. He’d just pulled the t-shirt over his head when someone knocked on the door.

Dillon opened the door to find Megan and her mother standing on the stoop, an arsenal of cleaning supplies piled behind them. He didn’t realize he was staring until Megan said, “Well, aren’t you gonna let us in?”

“What? Oh, yeah. Sorry, Megan. Mrs. Nash.” He reached for the caddy full of cleaners Megan’s mom was holding. “Here, Mrs. Nash, let me take that for you.”

Every time he saw her, Dillon marveled at the resemblance between Megan and her mother. Gale Nash was the older version of her daughter, all fiery red hair and big, blue eyes. She shook her head. “I’ve got this, sweetie. And if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, Dillon, call me Gale.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grabbed the rest of the cleaning supplies from the stoop and carried them into the house. Closing the door behind him he said, “Not to sound like I’m unhappy to see you, but what are you guys doing here?”

Gale held up the caddy. “What does it look like, doll? We’re here to clean this pigsty.” She looked around and curled her nose. “And from the looks of it, we got here not a moment too soon. Meggie, you start in the bathroom. Dillon, you take your brother’s room, since you know him better than we do. Heath might not like a couple of females rooting through his things.” Gale stepped over a pair of Heath’s well worn jockey shorts and wrinkled her nose. “Though from the looks of it, he’s not overly picky about his possessions. Meanwhile, I’m gonna start in the kitchen.”

“Gale, you don’t have to do this. I know you have better things to do than clean up after us. It’s my responsibility. I--”

Gale patted his cheek. “Dillon, you’re a sweet kid, and I love you. Now hush up and get to work before I spank that cute little butt of yours. From what I’ve heard, Jamie Walker has other plans for it.”

Dillon blushed to the roots of his hair, and Megan said, “Moooooo-ther!”

Gale just laughed. “You kids are so squeamish about sex. If you don’t stop complaining and get to work, I’ll call Grandma Taylor and ask her to come over and explain the facts of life to you two prudes.”

Just the thought of having the family matriarch come and give them “the talk” was enough to send fear into the hearts of men, women, and children alike. Dillon and Megan went to work without another word.

#

Six hours later, there wasn’t a surface in the apartment that didn’t shine or a piece of furniture that wasn’t in its proper place. The fresh smells of pine cleaner and disinfectant filled the apartment, and Dillon could actually see the carpet for the first time since moving in.

Dillon stood in the middle of the now clean living room, grinning at Megan and Gale. “I can’t thank you enough for doing this.”

“You worked just as hard, Dillon. Thanks aren’t necessary.” Gale tilted her head and studied him for a minute. “It’s hard for you to accept help, isn’t it?” Dillon nodded and Gale said, “Why do you think that is, sweetie?”

“I’m not sure. I know my dad was always after both me and Heath, telling us to grow up and be men.”

“There’s a big difference between taking responsibility and being trapped by stubborn pride.” Gale walked over to where Dillon stood and wrapped him in a tight hug. “From what I can tell, your father raised two good men, no thanks to his rotten influence. Just goes to show you that roses really can spring up in the middle of a weed patch.”

Dillon hugged her back, grateful for the comfort. Before he could say anything else, Gale backed away and said, “Now, do you have a suit to wear to Ben’s memorial?”

“Yes, ma’am. I hung it up in Heath’s closet when I moved in.” 

“Megan, you run out to the van and grab my iron and ironing board. Dillon, you go get your suit. We should have just enough time to get your clothes pressed before Megan and I have to run home and get ready for the service ourselves.”

“You’re coming tonight?”

“Of course, sweetie. We consider you family. Don’t you know that’s what family is for?”

Dillon didn’t know that. He’d never been around a family like the Nash’s before. He wasn’t sure just why they considered him one of their own, but he was damned glad they did.

# 

Dillon pulled his car into the parking lot of the First Christian Church of Reed. He spotted Sadie’s car a few spaces away, and wished for the hundredth time Jamie had ridden with him. He understood Jamie’s reasons for riding with his aunt, but he hoped at least Jamie would let Dillon take him home. Dillon needed to be close to him, to breathe the same air, share the same space, if only for a few minutes.

Dillon was no stranger to the First Christian Church, having visited with Megan too many times to count. He liked the open atmosphere, the lack of condemnation. The preacher at his mother and father’s church was an expert on hellfire and brimstone. Nothing like two hours worth of sin and conviction to make a guy want to throw himself out of a third story window. Walter Oakley, though, the preacher here at First Christian, was different. He spoke about love, and about forgiveness. Dillon knew that Jamie went to the Methodist Church with Sadie. He wondered if Jamie’s pastor preached about love and forgiveness, too. Dillon certainly hoped so. From Jamie, Dillon needed both.

The first person Dillon saw when he entered the church foyer was Brandon, in conversation with Jamie’s aunt. Dillon shook Brandon’s hand and then kissed Sadie’s cheek.

Sadie patted Dillon’s shoulder. “Dillon, it was good of you to come. I know you and Ben Lewis weren’t exactly friends.”

“That’s an understatement. And from what I hear, the two of you weren’t exactly on the best of terms, either.”

“Too true. I thought--and still do--that Ben Lewis was a hoodlum of the first order. I’m sorry to see any young man end up the way Ben did, but I can’t say I’m surprised.” She gave Dillon a warm smile. “Since neither of us were members of the Ben Lewis fan club, I can only assume we’re here for the same reason. To support Jamie.”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s about the size of it.” Dillon looked around the foyer and then peered into the sanctuary. “Speaking of James, where is he?”

Brandon pointed towards the right side hallway. “I saw him go into the prayer room about ten minutes ago. You might go in and check on him. He looked kinda pale.”

Dillon was down the hall like a shot. He’d never been in the prayer room before, but he’d seen it on his way to the church kitchen, two doors down. Even if he hadn’t known where to find it, the raised voices coming from within would have served as his guide. He recognized Jamie’s voice, and he heard the word “No.” That was all Dillon needed to hear.

Dillon flung the door open. Jamie was backed into a corner, his hands held out in front of his chest. Ash Barnes stood not even a foot from Jamie, his face flushed with agitation. Dillon slipped in, and before the door even closed behind him, he heard Ash say, “You did it for Ben. Why won’t you do it for me? Am I not good enough for you?”

“I told you, it wasn’t like that with Ben and me.”

“And I told you, I’m not buying it. I saw that kiss Ben planted on you at the dance. I want some of what you gave him. I want you to suck my dick.” 

{To Be Continued}



The Way You Say My Name Ch. 07



“What the hell is going on here?” Dillon’s voice cut through the stillness of the room, distracting Ash and giving Jamie the advantage he needed. Jamie raised his knee and planted it right where Ash least wanted to be hit. He clutched his nuts, and down he went.

Dillon crossed the room in an instant and hauled Ash to his feet. He had his fist cocked and ready to put Ash’s lights out when Jamie hollered, “Don’t do it, Dillon. He’s drunk. I wouldn’t have kneed him if he hadn’t been trying to . . . well, you know.”

“He’s drunk?”

“Yeah. Can’t you smell it?” Even from where Jamie stood, the stale smell of whisky filled the whole room. 

Dillon nodded and wrinkled his nose. He dropped Ash, who fell to the floor in a heap, holding his balls and moaning. Dillon said, “Well, shit. What the hell are we supposed to do with him now?”

“I don’t think you’re allowed to say ‘shit’ in church. Isn’t it like a law or something?”



“James, I think even God would agree that ‘shit’ is the right word to use in this case. The service is supposed to start in about fifteen minutes, and, as bad as I hate to say it, we can’t just leave him here like this.”

Damn. Dillon was right. As much as Jamie would like to leave Ash in a miserable pile for trying to force Jamie into giving him a blow job, the fact remained that he couldn’t. Jamie was pretty sure the alcohol had motivated the advance, anyway. Ash was an honor student, as well as a Plunkett High football star. He’d never been in any real fights that Jamie knew of, and even though Ash wasn’t exactly a champion for gay rights, he’d never known him to be a basher, either. He wasn’t even sure what Ash was doing here. He barely knew Ben. Jamie was just about to try his luck at getting an answer from Ash, who’d progressed from moaning to a slight mewling sound, when the door swung open, and Chad Minton came into the room. He took one look at Ash and whirled on Dillon. “What the hell did you faggots do to him?”

Dillon’s face turned red, and Jamie could tell that he was just about to blast Chad, when Ash spoke up, his voice thick and slurred. “They didn’t do anything to me, man. It was my own fault. We should never have come here, and if my damned father hadn’t made me pay my ‘respects to a fallen classmate,’ I wouldn’t be here now. Just help me up, and we’ll get outta here.”

Chad went to Ash’s aid, even as he said, “What will your dad say if the two of us ditch before the service even starts?”

“Like he’s gonna know. He and stepmother number five left for Europe about two hours ago. Second honeymoon, they called it. Funny, seeing as how they’ve only been married for three months.” He stumbled to his feet with Chad’s help. They were almost to the door, when Ash turned back and said, “James?”

“Yeah?”

Ash opened his mouth, then closed it again before any sound came out. Jamie figured he was about to apologize, but the words must have stuck in his throat, because all he got out was a squeaky, “Never mind,” before Chad helped him out the door.

Once they were gone, Dillon rushed over to Jamie, putting his hands on Jamie’s shoulders and looking into his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. He didn’t hurt me.”

“Not for lack of trying. You wanna tell me what just happened?”

“Pretty much what it looked like. I came in here to pray for Ben, and the next thing I knew Ash was in my face, demanding service, so to speak. I said no, you came in, and the rest is history.”

Dillon removed his hands and balled up his fists. “Drunk or not, I should have kicked his ass for touching you in the first place.”

That hit Jamie the wrong way. So what if he was smaller than most guys, or more reserved? That didn’t mean he was helpless. Did Dillon think that because Jamie had let Dillon take advantage of him in the past, that Jamie was the girl in their relationship? The little woman, in need of protection? Having Dillon try to fight his battles for him played upon all of Jamie’s worst fears and insecurities, fear that Dillon saw him as something less than an equal. That, plus the stress of saying goodbye to Ben and being pawed in the middle of church, caused Jamie to snap.

“Why should you have kicked his ass, Dillon? Because you believe I’m not capable of taking care of myself? You think I’m some puss who needs his big, bad boyfriend to play bodyguard?”

Dillon’s face turned white as death, and if he hadn’t been so upset, Jamie might have felt guilty. Dillon’s voice was horse as he stammered out, “No! I never thought of you that way. I wouldn’t . . . James, it’s not like that.”

“Then how is it, Dillon? You tell me.”

Dillon might have answered if Megan hadn’t stuck her head into the still open doorway. “The service is about to start, guys. Pastor Oakley just stepped onto the platform.”

Dillon nodded and then cast Jamie one last, pleading look before following Megan out the door. Jamie steeled himself for what was coming, the argument with Dillon temporarily cast aside in the face of Ben’s memorial. This was it. He took a deep breath and followed them.

Jamie, Dillon, and Megan sat together, three rows from the front. Aunt Sadie was sitting with the Nash family, one row back. The place was packed, from the first pew down front to the balcony above. Jamie was almost willing to bet that half the people there hadn’t even known Ben. Hearse chasers, looking for a good show. 

The First Christian Church was beautiful, a mixture of late nineteenth century architecture and modern restoration done in period style. The things that set the place apart, though, were the cathedral ceilings and the massive stained glass windows dominating the east-facing wall, windows that seemed delicate despite their size. Too bad Jamie couldn’t soak himself in the beauty. He only saw what was missing: his best friend. He noticed a blown up picture of Ben--grainy and having been lifted from the yearbook--placed on the raised stage, and several tasteful flower arrangements clustered around the altar. Since Ben had been cremated, there was no casket, and Nora had wisely chosen not to showcase the urn holding Ben’s ashes. Jamie thanked heaven for small favors. He looked around for Nora, but couldn’t see her in the throng of designer-clad spectators. Nothing like a memorial to bring out the best in folks--or their wardrobes. 

Walter Oakley approached the pulpit, a pleasant looking man, with gray, thinning hair, and round, wire-framed glasses. He’d seemed nice enough when he’d greeted Jamie in the hallway, but, even so, Jamie dreaded what he was about to hear. He expected some long winded diatribe about how everything happened for a reason and how they shouldn’t grieve for Ben because he was in a better place. Jamie, though, was in for a surprise.

Oakley adjusted his glasses and looked out upon the crowd. “Normally, I begin each funeral or memorial service with a prayer, and then I go into a heartfelt sermon about celebrating a life well lived and rejoicing because a soul has been reunited with his Lord. Then again, most funerals I preside over are those of older folks, such as myself, who’ve had a chance to live, to taste the world and all its wonders. There is no way I can, in good conscience, tell you that I celebrate the passing of an eighteen-year-old boy whose life hasn’t even started.”

“Benjamin Lewis left this earth a babe, another victim of a senseless tragedy that defies all logic and reason. Though Ben was not a personal friend of mine, time and again I’ve seen young ones like him fall, cast down before ever really having had a chance to rise. At times like these, I wish I had a direct line to God. I’d ask Him why Ben Lewis was taken, why he experienced so little joy in his young life, only to have what little happiness he’d managed to find so cruelly snatched away.” Oakley removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Since I can’t do that, I, like you, am asked to trust God, to believe that the answers will someday be made clear to us. I do believe that, but to those left behind, there is often little solace to be found in such beliefs.” Oakley replaced the wire frames on his nose and again scanned the crowd. “There is a certain peace to be found in our Creator, but it is often hard won in the face of tragedy. As He prepared His disciples for the Crucifixion and the trials to follow afterwards, Jesus spoke of such a peace--as we are told in the thirty-third verse of the sixteenth chapter of John--when he said, “These things I have spoken to you, that in Me you may have peace. In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world.’”

Oakley closed the prayer book he’d earlier placed upon the lectern and said, “Jesus overcame the world, and through him, so may we. That is not to suggest that the road between the here and the hereafter will be a smooth one. In fact, we are assured of just the opposite. My prayer now is not for Ben, who’s reached the end of his journey among us, but for his family and friends, those left behind and trying to find order in chaos. Would you bow your heads?”

Jamie closed his eyes, and though he heard the words of Oakley’s prayer, he couldn’t wrap his mind around them. He liked the fact that Pastor Oakley hadn’t tried to explain away Ben’s death with some tired old speech, but he still wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel or what he was supposed to do to obtain this closure everyone kept going on about. Jamie didn’t even realize the prayer was finished until he saw movement from the corner of his eye and noticed folks were raising their heads. He did the same, the whole time wondering what was next. 

Oakley said his amens and went straight to the next part. Jamie was grateful to the man for not dragging it out “I think now would be a good time to hear from those who knew and loved Ben. If any of you would like to say a few words on his behalf, please, step forward at this time.”

Nora Slater came up first. Jamie always marveled at what a striking figure Ben’s foster mother made, with her long brown hair and her olive complexion. At five-eleven, she reminded Jamie of a willow tree, towering over most women--and many men. Even so, she carried her slender frame with a subtle grace that emphasized her beauty. Though she was not a day older than forty, Nora was the only stable adult influence Ben had ever known. Too bad she hadn’t gotten him sixteen years sooner.

Nora approached the lectern and smoothed imaginary wrinkles from her elegant black skirt suit. Her hazel eyes scanned the crowd, finding Jamie almost immediately. They exchanged a look-- a subtle acknowledgement of the bond they shared--before Nora said, “I’d like to thank all of you for coming. I’m overwhelmed by the turn out. I hope everyone here knew Ben, or at least had the chance to know him.” Her voice turned thick, but she held it together. “If you didn’t know him, you’d probably think he was a tough guy, one of those kids who gave a lot more crap than he took.” She managed a weak smile. “That was true, but there was another side to Ben, a softer side. If you were one of the lucky few to be loved by Ben,” again she looked to Jamie, “he would have moved Heaven and earth to see you happy. That’s the Ben, the loving Ben, that I say goodbye to today.” Tears began to roll down her cheeks. “That’s the boy I grieve, the boy I was proud to call my son.” Nora said another quick thank-you, nodded to Walter Oakley, and returned to her seat.

Next up were two girls Jamie recognized from school, both with teary eyes and padded bras. Each one gave a stirring account of what a tragedy Ben’s death was and how deeply he would be missed. Jamie was proud of himself for not gagging.

When the second girl finished her act, there was an awkward pause while Oakley waited for the next speaker to come forward. Dillon leaned close to Jamie and whispered, “You gonna go up there?”

Jamie shook his head. He couldn’t do it. He’d never make it through without loosing it. Dillon seemed to understand. He gave Jamie’s knee a light squeeze before pulling back his hand.

Oakley was just before reclaiming the pulpit when Dan Morgan stepped on the stage. “If you don’t mind, Pastor, I have a few words I want to say.”

Pastor Oakley moved back to his chair as Morgan took his place at the podium. His Italian suit looked to be hand cut, and as usual, every hair on his head was in order. He stood before the memorial crowd like a politician addressing potential voters. “We’re here today to mourn the passing of one of our own, a young man cut down in the prime of his life. Ben Lewis was perched on the cusp of manhood, only to be plucked from our midst by an almost unfathomable tragedy. We come here today to make sense of the senseless, to infuse logic into the illogical. Though as Mr. Oakley so deftly pointed out, such a happening is difficult to understand, I think I may be able to put Ben’s death into a perspective you can all relate to.” Morgan smiled again, but this time Jamie could have sworn he saw something behind Morgan’s grin, some malicious intent buried beneath the flashing white teeth and the prep school charm.

Morgan placed both hands on the lectern. “Just like Mr. Oakley, I put great store in the principles laid out for us in the Bible. Now, I’m not up on chapter and verse, but I think I can make my point just the same. To paraphrase, ‘Whatever a man reaps, that’s what he’ll sow.’ You ask why Ben Lewis had to die. I’ll tell you why. The evil that he did in life finally caught up to him. Ben Lewis sowed seeds of sin and strife. How ironic, then, that Ben’s life should be taken by a drunkard, a man whose own life has been just as fruitless and violent as Ben’s.”

Jamie heard Walter Oakley clear his throat as Nora gasped and someone else cursed, but Morgan was far from finished. He pulled a folded piece of paper from his breast pocket and then continued.

“Now, lest you take my word for it,” he shook out the paper, “I have here a list of Ben Lewis’s indiscretions. And these are just the ones we know about.” Holding the document in front of himself like a banner, Morgan said, “Benjamin Lewis was a rap-sheet with legs. Between the ages of eleven and fifteen alone, Ben was arrested four times for solicitation, had five petty theft charges, got sent to juvenile hall three times for misdemeanor assault, and was implicated in two separate drug busts. Ben lived in twelve different foster homes--mainly because he was so unruly his foster parents couldn’t control him--and did over six months in two different juvenile detention facilities. Perhaps if those ‘kiddy jails’ had kept him until he turned eighteen, he’d still be alive. For some reason, he always seemed to get out early for good behavior.” Morgan snorted. “Good behavior was something Ben Lewis knew nothing about. Even after he ran away from his last foster home and Nora Slater so graciously took him in, Ben couldn’t seem to get his act together. I know he was arrested several times for crimes ranging from shoplifting to drug possession.” Morgan paused for effect. “The question then becomes, should we really be grieving for Ben Lewis? I say, he got what he deserved.”

“And I say you’re full of shit, Morgan.” Brandon Nash stepped up on stage and gave Oakley an apologetic glance. “Sorry about that, Pastor, but only a craven coward talks trash about a dead man in front of his loved ones.” Morgan opened his mouth to speak, but Brandon beat him to the punch. “Sit down, Morgan. You’ve had your turn. You’re lucky as hell I can’t think of anything to charge you with for exposing Ben Lewis’s juvenile record. If I can find something, though, you bet your ass I will.” 

That shut Morgan up and propelled him back to his seat. Brandon took the pulpit, his eyes flashing. For some reason, Brandon’s anger soothed Jamie. At least someone besides Nora and himself was outraged over Morgan’s comments. Jamie had no idea the amount of comfort and resolution Brandon’s next words were gonna bring.

Brandon spoke with obvious reluctance. “I’m not much of a public speaker. I leave all that diplomacy crap to my better half. God knows how I got elected sheriff. It certainly wasn’t for my people skills. But the fact is, I did get elected, and that put me in a unique position where Ben Lewis was concerned.” He shifted so that his hip was propped against the podium in typical Brandon Nash style. “There are two kinds of arrestees: the kind that clam up on you and go all quiet, and the kind who get made as Hel--um, heck, and raise the roof. Ben was in the second category. I got to see the worst of him, the angry, belligerent side. He was brought in on a variety of charges--all misdemeanors, I might add--and never once came in without setting the whole station on its ear. Even so, I can honestly say that I admired Ben Lewis. I may not have agreed with his views on the differences between right and wrong, but I admired the person he was inside, apart from that tough guy routine of his.”

Brandon’s blue eyes scanned the room. He settled on Jamie for just a second before moving on. “As Morgan so kindly pointed out, Ben Lewis didn’t always make the smartest choices, but no one really knows how much of that Ben did to survive. And survive he did. That’s where my admiration for Ben comes in. He wasn’t one of those people that sat down and gave up just because life dealt him a lousy hand. Was he bitter? Yeah, a little bit. But he didn’t let that bitterness or fear keep him from living a full life. He lived--and loved, from what I hear-- like there was no tomorrow.” Again, Brandon’s eyes settled on Jamie. “I can’t say for sure, but I believe if Ben Lewis were here with us right now, he’d tell those he cared about to do the same thing, to let go of what’s holding them back and move forward.” With that last bit of advice, Brandon nodded to Pastor Oakley and exited the stage.

Pastor Oakley wasn’t about to give Morgan a chance to say anything else. The minute Brandon relinquished the pulpit, Oakley reclaimed it, thanked everyone for coming, and ended the service. It took Jamie a full minute to realize people were starting to stand. He was still locked under the spell of Brandon’s words. They shamed him, made him realize he’d been hiding behind Ben, using his death as an excuse not to face his feelings for Dillon. The question now was, did he have the courage to change all that?   

Dillon peered down at Jamie from where he was standing. “James? You okay?”

“Jamie.”

“Huh?”

Jamie looked up at him, blue eyes into green. “Jamie. My friends and family call me Jamie.” He lowered his voice for Dillon’s ears only. “I always loved the way you said my name.”

Dillon’s smile was the best thing Jamie had seen in a long time. “Jamie, are you ready?” He said “Jamie” like a caress.

Jamie stood up and slipped his hand into Dillon’s. “I’m ready.” And he was ready. Ready for everything he’d been denying them both.

      #

Dillon held on to Jamie’s hand like a lifeline, afraid to let go, scarcely daring to believe that Jamie’s new-found acceptance of him was real. He wanted to get Jamie alone, to talk to him, to find out what he was thinking. Dillon led him through the sanctuary, stopping just long enough to say goodbye to Megan and to tell Jamie’s Aunt Sadie that they were leaving. Jamie had accepted Dillon’s offer of a ride home--a good sign--but Dillon needed more. He needed to know what was going on in Jamie’s head. They’d almost made it to the front doors of the church when they ran into Nora.

Her eyes were red, and her face was pinched, but Dillon could tell that the smile she gave Jamie was genuine. She took Jamie’s free hand and pulled him in for a tight hug. “Thanks for everything, Jamie.” Her eyes were filled with tears when she pulled back. “You did more for Ben than anyone ever could have. I can never repay you for making the last two years of his life so special.”




The Way You Say My Name Ch. 07



Jamie’s own eyes were wet. “He did more than that for me, Nora. He was a friend when I needed one the most.”

Nora looked down at Jamie’s hand, his fingers entwined with Dillon’s. When she glanced back up, Dillon was relieved to see nothing but approval. Nora said, “It looks like you’ve found someone else to lean on. I’m glad, honey. Ben would have wanted that.”

Jamie nodded. “I know. Oh, Brandon said you wanted to see me.”

“Yes, I do. If you have a few minutes, we can do this now.” She looked around. “Is there somewhere private we can talk?”

Dillon spoke up. “You could use the prayer room, if it’s empty.”

“That sounds good to me. I brought all the documents, just in case I ran into you tonight.” Nora sighed. “Actually, that’s not strictly true. I planned on running into you. Sort of an accidentally-on-purpose kind of thing. The sooner I get this legal stuff over and done with, the better.”

Jamie looked as confused as Dillon was. “Documents? Legal stuff? I’m not sure I understand. Brandon told me that the guy who hit Ben copped a plea.”

“He did. This isn’t about Barry Sledge, may he rot. This is about Ben’s will.”

“Ben had a will?” Jamie’s eyes went wide.

“He sure did. One thing about Ben that most people didn’t know, he was a meticulous record keeper. You’d never have known it to look at him, but he saved everything. He also had a near photographic memory. That kid never forgot anything.”

“Ben?” Dillon didn’t mean to say it, but it slipped out, anyway.

Nora didn’t seem offended. “I know. It doesn’t fit his personality, not the one he showed to the world, anyway. I think Ben saw being smart as a hindrance. Let’s face it, in his past life, the one he had before he came to Reed, intelligence wasn’t what people wanted from him.” Her jaw tightened. “Dan Morgan was only too happy to point that out, the bastard.”

Dillon wasn’t exactly a touchy feely person, but Jamie looked so helpless in the face of Nora’s anger over Morgan, he had to step in. He put his hand on Nora’s arm. “Why don’t the two of you go ahead and get this part of it over with? I bet you’ll feel better once you do.”

“You’re right, Dillon.” She reached out and patted his cheek. “You’re a sweet kid. Jamie is one lucky boy.”

Jamie said, “Nora, is it all right if Dillon comes with us? I’d like for him to hear this, if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course. Why don’t the two of you lead the way, and we’ll have at it. This won’t take long, and like I said, I brought everything I needed with me. I know reading a will at what for all intents and purposes was a funeral is considered poor taste, but I just felt like I had to do this.” She looked to Jamie. “You understand, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do.” Jamie pointed down the long hall. “The prayer room is right down here.”

The three of them descended the hall and entered the prayer room, which was, thankfully, deserted. Dillon hung the “occupied” sign on the outer knob and closed the door. Nora took one of the high-backed leather chairs, leaving Jamie and Dillon to share the couch. Dillon felt Jamie’s hand slide into his again as Nora removed a manila envelope from her purse. Placing a pair of reading glasses on her slightly sloped nose, Nora pulled everything out of the envelope and shuffled through the papers until she found the one she was looking for. She scanned it for a second, then looked to Jamie and said, “Are you ready for this? Ben wrote it out himself, but he had it notarized and then filed by a lawyer, so it’s all above board.”

“I’m ready.” The pressure on Dillon’s hand increased.

“Good. I’ll just read this as it’s written, and then if you have any questions, I’ll answer them after we’re finished. It’s pretty straightforward, though, so I doubt you will.” She cleared her throat. “’ If you’re reading this, that that means I’ve bitten it. I hope being dead doesn’t suck. Anyway, my lawyer said I have to at least take a stab at making this official, so here goes. I, Benjamin Neil Lewis, being of sound mind and body, do hereby leave the balance of my savings account, which at present comes to three-hundred, sixty-five dollars and fourteen cents, to my foster mother, Nora Slater. It could be less than that by the time I actually kick the ole bucket, but hey, a guy’s got expenses. Anyway, that and my arrowhead collection go to Nora. Nora, I know you’ve always liked Indian stuff, since you sort of are one. Well, half, anyway.’” Nora stopped, and Dillon could see that her hands were shaking.

Jamie stepped in. “Nora, if you need to do this later, we can.”

“No, Jamie. I appreciate the thought, but I need to get this done. I need to find my own peace over losing Ben.” She straightened out the paper and began again. “’With the exception of those two things, all my other worldly possessions--clothes, books, not that I have many of those, CD’s, my computer--all of that stuff, I leave to my friend James Winston Walker. I’m also leaving him my most prized possession, my nineteen-eighty-five Pontiac Firebird, title of which can be found in my safe deposit box down at the Reed Savings and Loan, along with various other receipts, papers, etc., etc. Nora has the key, J. There are a couple of other things in the box that I need you to take care of for me, buddy, seeing as how I’m dead and all. I trust you, though, J, and I know you’ll do the right thing. Oh, and if you scratch my car while you’re learning how to drive it, I’ll come back and haunt your ass.’”

Nora stopped, Dillon guessed, to gauge Jamie’s reaction. “How are you holding up, Jamie? Are you ready to hear the last of it?”

Dillon could feel Jamie shaking, but he was proud of the strength in Jamie’s voice when he said, “I’m good. Let’s finish it.”

“Okay, but this last part is tough, so if at any time you need me to stop, let me know.” When Jamie nodded, Nora continued. “’Okay, so now that I know my car is going to a good home, I can get on with the being dead part. Now, about my body. I’m not much for pushing up daisies, and the whole worms-feasting-on-my-dead-flesh-thing creeps me out, so I want to be cremated. What’s that lyric? ‘It’s better to burn out than fade away?’ So, set me on fire and be done with it. And Nora, stuff a few fire crackers in my pockets first, will ya? Give those morticians something to put a little excitement in their lives. Wait. My lawyer just told me that they cremate you naked. Damn. Well, in that case, Nora, there are several holes on my person where you could shove those babies. I’ll leave the choice of which orifice up to you. That having been said, that leaves only the question of what to do with my ashes. I’ve never cared too much for the thought of spending all eternity sitting in a glorified flower pot on someone’s mantel, so I ask, Nora, that you give my ashes to Jamie. Okay, J, this next part is for you. You’ve had almost as much unhappiness in your life as I’ve had, and that’s saying something, let me tell ya. I have a feeling, though, that things are gonna change for you, and soon. If I’m right, the next time you feel happy--and I mean truly, deeply, not a care in the world happy--I want you to find the most beautiful spot you can think of, and spread those jokers out. I may not like the idea of rotting in a box, but I sort of like the thought of seeping back into the dirt. You know, dust to dust, that kind of thing. Anyway, I’ve said pretty much all that I need to. Just be happy, J and Nora. I love you guys. Okay, dead guy, signing out.’” 

Jamie sat in stunned silence while Nora refolded the paperwork and put it back in the envelope. Dillon wished there was something he could say, but he found himself at a loss. He squeezed Jamie’s hand, and was relieved to feel him squeeze back. At least he didn’t seem to be in shock again.

Nora pulled one more envelope form her purse, this one larger. She stood and walked over to where Jamie sat, handing it to him. “This is your copy of the will, sweetheart, along with the keys to Ben’s car, and also the deposit box key. You can pick the car--and the rest of Ben’s things--up anytime you like.”

Jamie stood and took the envelope from her. Dillon stood as well, just as Jamie said, “Nora, I can’t drive. I don’t even know what I’m gonna do with that car. If you want it--”

“No, honey. Ben wanted you to have that car, and so do I. Besides,” she gave Dillon another one of her warm smiles, “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble finding an instructor.” She pulled Jamie close and gave him a rocking hug, then surprised Dillon by doing the same to him. Before she pulled back she whispered, “Take care of him, Dillon. He’s a special guy.” She pulled back before Dillon could answer and said, “Okay, guys, I’m out of here. I have a date with a romance novel and a bubble bath. Just come by whenever, Jaime. There’s no rush.” Nora left without waiting for a reply.

Jamie drew in a deep breath and then let it out slowly, like he was having trouble gathering his thoughts. Finally, he said, “Wow.”

Dillon thought “wow” was a fairly appropriate statement. He slipped his arm around Jamie’s waist, leaving it loose, just in case Jamie wasn’t ready for the contact. “How do you feel about all this?”

Jamie shook his head. “I’m not sure. A part of me can’t believe Ben even had a will, let alone left all his stuff to me. But, at the same time, knowing Ben like I did, it’s exactly the kind of thing he would do. If nothing else, he’d have a will drawn up for kicks. I can’t believe he hired a lawyer, though. Not on a lark. Where would he get the money? Attorneys don’t come cheap.”

Dillon wondered the same thing. “Maybe when you open that safe deposit box, you’ll find some answers.”

Jamie nodded and leaned into Dillon’s embrace. Jamie turned so that he was facing him, and before Dillon realized what was happening, Jamie was in his arms. God, he felt good. Dillon wrapped him up tight, the warmth of Jamie’s body seeping into his skin. Dillon slid his arms up under the back of Jamie’s suit jacket, just above his waist. Jamie’s head was pressed against Dillon’s chest, so much so that Dillon barely heard him mutter, “Thanks for staying with me. I don’t think I could’ve sat through that will reading stuff without you.”

Dillon kissed the top of his head. “I told you once before, Jamie. I’m through running. I want to take care of you, to protect you.” Dillon cursed himself the minute he said it. “Damn. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I don’t think of you as the girl in our relationship, Jamie. I swear to God I don’t. I just want to take care of you, to make sure you’re safe. I’d be the same way about anyone I . . . cared about.” He tried to pull away, intent on seeing Jamie’s face, but Jamie wouldn’t let him.

“I know, Dillon. I was just angry before, mad about the whole situation. But I’m not now. I mean, I’m still mad about Ben dying, but I’m gonna stop hiding behind it. I’m ready.”

God, please let him mean what Dillon thought he meant. “Ready? What are you ready for, Jamie?”

“Ready to stop hiding behind anger and bitterness. Ready to trust you, to give you myself again. I’m ready to be with you, Dillon. Completely.”

      #

Dillon let himself into Heath’s apartment, surprised that his feet even touched the floor. He felt lighter than he had in months. Hell, years, even. He was so stoked, he didn’t even see Heath standing in the middle of the living room until he nearly knocked him over.

“Jesus, Heath. You scared the crap out of me.” Heath just stood there, still not saying a word. Dillon waved his hand in front of Heath’s face. “Heath? You in there?”

“I have carpet.”

“Uh, yeah, Heath, you do.” Dillon was starting to get concerned. “Did you inhale a whole lot of smoke at work tonight?”

Heath shook himself. “Damn. That was scary. I thought for a minute there I was in the wrong place. I just got home from work, and instead of my stuff, I find this. Were we robbed?”

Dillon couldn’t help but smile. “No, we were Nash-ed.”

“Megan?”

“And Gale. They came before the memorial service. Don’t worry, though. They saved everything that was worth anything.”

Heath sighed. “It was damned nice of them to come and clean this place. Especially Megan. I’m surprised she didn’t have other plans. Did she, uh, go to the service alone?”

Dillon wondered if Heath could hear the jealousy in his own voice. Dillon certainly could. “Heath, it was a funeral, not the senior prom. Of course she came alone. If you care about Megan, just tell her.”

Heath ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s not that easy, Dillon. She’s too young for me. Besides, as pretty as she is, Megan will have no shortage of guys her age, all wanting to take her out.”

“Heath, you’re only five years older than she is. If you care--”

Heath waved him away. “Let it go, kid. It ain’t gonna happen. Now, I want you to come over here, sit down, and tell me what happened tonight. We had two fire calls this evening. That’s the reason I couldn’t make it to the service, by the way. We were shorthanded, so I couldn’t leave. For what it’s worth, though, I really wanted to be there to support you and James.”

“We both understood.” 

“Still, I wanted to be there.” Heath walked over to the recliner and collapsed into it, motioning for Dillon to take the couch. He looked down at his clean clothes. “It’s a good thing I showered at the station. I’d be afraid to come into this place all covered with soot. It looks like a different apartment. And, knowing you, you worked just as hard as Gale and Megan did. Thanks, little brother.”

Dillon shrugged. “I live here, too. It was no big deal.”

Heath rolled his eyes. “There’s no thanking some people. Anyway, tell me what happened at the memorial.”

Dillon told him everything, sparing few details. When he got to the part about Morgan, Heath whistled. “Bet that went over well.”

“Let’s just put it this way: Brandon Nash was less than thrilled, and I wouldn’t be surprised if, from now on, Morgan finds himself being arrested for everything from littering to jaywalking.”

“That’s no less than he deserves. James and Nora must have been devastated to have all Ben’s dirty laundry aired in The First Christian Church for half of Reed to hear.”

“They both were, but in a way, I’m grateful to Morgan.”

“How so? The guy’s a total dick.”

“True, but Morgan’s speech prompted Brandon to get up and make one of his own. I’m not sure what it was, but something Bran said made Jamie change his mind about us,” Dillon then went on to tell Heath about the reading of the will, and Jamie’s decision to be with him.

“Wow. So, what now?”

“Well, after Jamie hugged me and told me that he wanted to give us another chance, I took him home. We talked on the way to his aunt’s house, and I think we were actually able to work through some things. Jamie felt guilty for moving on, but we both agree that Ben would want him to be happy. More than anything, Ben’s death has taught us that we don’t always know how much time we have left. Even so, we’re gonna take this slow. You know, date for a while.” Dillon knew he wore a goofy grin, but he couldn’t help it. One date with Jamie would be better than two weeks of torrid sex with anyone else.

“You guys going out tomorrow night?”

“I wish, but Jamie promised his aunt he would help her get some stuff ready for a bazaar at their church. And Monday through Friday of this coming week is out because Mr. Pembroke is letting me make up the hours of work I missed this past week. I’m off next Saturday, though, and Jamie’s agreed to let me take him out then.”

“Any idea where you’ll take him?”

Dillon shrugged. “The usual places, I guess. Dinner, a movie.”

Heath sighed. “And here I thought sure I’d passed all my sexual charisma on to you. What a shame.”

“What? What’s wrong with dinner and a movie?”

“I didn’t say there was anything wrong with it, kid. Dinner and a movie is fine, but this is James we’re talking about, your soul mate, the man you’ve spent the better part of two years pining for. You want to do this thing right.”

“All right, Romeo. What do you suggest?”

“Hmm. Let me think about it for a sec.” Heath leaned back and closed his eyes. “Dinner and a movie works, if you spice it up a little bit.” He sat up and opened his eyes. “I know. I have a friend who owns one of those classic theater’s in Chicago. You know, one of those that was built in the thirties and allowed to run down? Well, anyway, this guy I know bought one of those and had it completely restored to its former glory. He shows classic movies, as well as Indie films. Let me talk to him, and see what I can do. I’ll also call around and see if I can find you guys a reservation at a decent restaurant.”

“Heath, I appreciate that, but I can’t really afford--”

Heath shrugged. “It’s on me, brother o’ mine.”

“No, I can’t let you do that, Heath. You’ve already refused to let me pay rent or help with groceries. You’ve done enough.”

“There’s no such thing as enough where family is concerned.” Heath looked Dillon right in the eyes. “Consider it penance for leaving you alone with Mom and Dad when I moved out. Or for that punch I leveled at your jaw when I thought you were fooling around on Megan. Maybe you could just say that I love you, and I want you to be happy.”

Dillon could feel himself choking up. “You’re really cool with me being gay, then? It doesn’t bother you.”

Heath stood up and grabbed Dillon, pulling him to his feet and crushing him in a hug. “I told you it didn’t. You can’t help being gay any more than you can help being a complete and total dork.”

Dillon punched him lightly in the stomach. Heath pulled back, and his expression turned serious. “All teasing aside, Dillon, there’s no shame in being gay. It’s no different than being straight or bi. You love who you love. I’m cool with it, as long as James treats you right.” Heath gave him one more squeeze before the both of them sat back down.

“He will. Jamie is an amazing person, Heath. He would never hurt me.”

“I believe you on that score, kid. Oh, I forgot to ask, what’s James gonna do about Ben’s will?”

“We talked a little bit about that on the way home. I don’t have to be at work on Monday till five, so I’m gonna run him by the bank after school, and he’s gonna clean out the safe deposit box. He’ll know more after he does that.”

“Cool beans.” Heath yawned. “I think I’m gonna call it a night, kid. Keep me posted.” He stood up and stretched.

Dillon nodded. “I will. And thanks, Heath, for everything.”

“Quit thanking me, Dillon. You’re gonna have to get used to people helping you.”

Dillon was starting to think that it wasn’t gonna be much of an adjustment at all.

       #

The change in Jamie since the memorial two days ago was incredible. He was openly affectionate with Dillon, holding his hand and kissing him on the cheek--even the lips--whenever he felt like it. Neither of them had initiated a heavy lip lock, not since that day in the hall, but Dillon was hopeful. The sexual tension between them was thick, but he was letting Jamie set the pace.

Monday crept by, Dillon’s every thought having been dominated by Jamie since the minute Dillon dropped him off at his homeroom door. Lunch didn’t last near long enough, to Dillon’s way of thinking, but the minute he saw Jamie waiting for him after school, the anxiety he’d been feeling vanished. Jamie was close, and that was all that matter.

The Reed Savings and Loan was only about three blocks from school, but Dillon used every minute of the short drive to his advantage. He held Jamie’s hand the whole way, using the pad of his thumb to caress the inside of Jamie’s palm. Jamie’s soft quivering was a gift to Dillon, one that would keep him going for days.

Mr. Lee, the bank manager, greeted them in the lobby. “Good afternoon, boys. Can I be of some assistance to you?”




The Way You Say My Name Ch. 07



Dillon had known Henry Lee for most of his life, as had Jamie. The man was one of the nicest, most down-to-earth people Dillon had ever met. He was also a bitter enemy of Dillon’s father, having been the subject of one of Douglas Carver’s gay bashing crusades. Dillon was a bit worried that Mr. Lee might hold it against him, but the warm smile Lee extended to him and Jamie told him otherwise. The old saying must be true, then. The enemy of your enemy really is your friend. 

Jamie said, “Actually, you can help us, Mr. Lee, if you aren’t busy.”

Again, Lee smiled. “Not at all. How can I help?”

Jamie fished his key out of his pocket. “My friend had a safe deposit box. When he d--” Jamie took a deep breath. “When he died, he left the contents to me. I have the will, if you need to see it.”

“That won’t be necessary, James. The key is enough.” Mr. Lee motioned for them to follow him to his office. Once there he opened a strong box located on top of his filing cabinet and searched for the matching key. As he did so, he said, “By the way, Dillon, I heard about what happened with your father.” He stopped the search long enough to give Dillon a look that was two parts understanding, one part pity. “It saddens me that you had to suffer through that, Dillon, and if there’s anything my partner or I can do, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“I won’t. Thank you, sir.”

Lee nodded, then said, “Ah ha.” He held up the key. “Found it. If the two of you will follow me, I’ll fit my key in first, then leave you to open the box in privacy.”

The vault was little more than a metal box with a table and a couple of chairs. Mr. Lee pulled box number five sixty seven from its perch and placed it on the table. After unlocking his side, Mr. Lee waited until Jamie popped the latch, offered his regrets to Jamie about Ben, and then slipped out to give them privacy.

Dillon sat across from Jamie, watching him for any sign of distress as he removed the lid and rifled through the contents. Dillon could see two envelopes, one manila, the other a white, legal sized paper with the D.M.V.’s seal on it, the car title, he guessed. He could also see a brown paper sack--filled and folded--taking up the other end of the box.

Jamie sat the envelopes aside and reached for the sack. He upended it, spilling the contents on the table. Dillon stared in blank-faced astonishment as cluster after cluster of bank-banded, one-hundred-dollar bills spilled out.

Jamie’s hands were shaking. “Good God.”

Well put. Dillon had never seen that much cash in his life. Jamie said, “Would you count it please, Dillon? I can’t think.”

Dillon nodded and went through each stack of bills, putting them back in the sack as he went. When he was done, Dillon placed the bag back on the table and breathed, “Finished.”

“What’s the verdict? How much was there?”

Dillon said, “You aren’t gonna believe it. Hell, I counted it, and I don’t believe it.”

“How much?”

“Give or take a hundred, I’d say you’ve got about forty-two thousand dollars on your hands.”

     {To Be Continued}



The Way You Say My Name Ch. 08



Jamie clutched both envelopes to his chest. He'd been holding them like that the whole time--all the way from the bank to his house--but he couldn't seem to make himself let go. He was afraid to open them. For now, those letters were a silent link to Ben. If he opened either missive and found proof that the money was dirty--as Dillon seemed sure it was--Jamie knew that link would be shattered.

Dillon pulled into Jamie's drive. "We're here."

Jamie nodded. "Thanks, Dillon."

Dillon hesitated, then finally said, "What are you gonna do about the money?"

"I'm not sure. That's why I put it back in the box. Until I decide how I'm gonna handle this thing, it's safer there."

"I still say you need to talk to Brandon about it."

Jamie sighed. He'd known Dillon was right the first time he suggested talking to the sheriff, back at the bank. But Jamie's reasons for waiting still stood.

"I can't do that, Dillon. Not until I find out where that money came from."

"Jamie--"

"Everyone already thinks Ben was scum. Everyone except for me and Nora, that is. I don't want to drag Ben's name through the mud any more than it already has been. Doing that would only hurt Nora all over again. If I find out that the money was part of something illegal, I'll talk to Bran, Dillon. I promise."

Dillon put his hand on the back of Jamie's neck, stroking the short hairs there with the edge of his thumb. "I know you will, but I worry about you. Who knows where that money came from? You have no idea what sorta shit Lewis was into."

"I'll be careful."

"I know you'll try, but you aren't like Ben was, Jamie. You don't have any idea what the guy was capable of. You always see the good in people, the bright side."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

Dillon used the hand on Jamie's neck to pull him forward until their foreheads were touching. "No way. I thank God that you're so trusting and forgiving. You never would have given me another chance, otherwise." Without changing positions, Dillon glanced down at his watch. "Damn. I've got to get to work." He gave Jamie a quick peck on the lips. "Call me if you need me. And don't do anything about that money without telling somebody first, promise?"

Jamie kissed him back and said, "Promise," as he reached for the door handle. He watched Dillon back his Lumina down the driveway, waved, and let himself into the house. He was thankful to find Aunt Sadie gone. He needed privacy.

Jamie went to his room and locked the door. Bouncing onto the bed, he opened the D.M.V. envelope first. The title to the car. Nothing unusual about that. Next he opened the manila envelope. Inside were two smaller envelopes, one thin, the other overstuffed. The thin one was labeled "J: Open First." The other was labeled, "To Be Revealed Later." Jamie sighed. Ben had been nothing if not dramatic.

Jamie tore into the first envelope. The shock of seeing Ben's handwriting hit him full force, but he made himself read it, anyway. "Dear J, Hey, too bad your name isn't John. This would be a real Dear John letter. I always wanted to write one of those things. Anyway, if you're reading this, that means you've opened the box and seen the money. Now, I know what you're thinking, and the answer is no, I didn't knock over a liquor store or rob a bank. I earned that money, and I want you to have it. And before you ask, no, I didn't earn it doing odd jobs for Nora. I can't tell you where it came from, J. That's a part of my life I don't want you to be touched by. Knowing you, you'll be afraid to take it, but please, do it anyway. I probably shouldn't say what I'm about to, because this is a major guilt trip to lay on you. Still, you need to know how I feel, and I need to say it. Forgive me in advance." The paragraph ended and Jamie took a deep breath before continuing to read.

"I'd always intended that money to be for us, a nest egg for the day you finally realized that Carver was a complete ass, and I was the guy for you. Crazy, I know, but from the first day I saw you, I loved you. God, I wanted you, J. You were hurt--battered, even--and all I could think about was holding you, making it better. I wanted to kill Carver for doing that to you. Hell, I even thought about it a time or two. But I knew it would hurt you too bad, so I didn't. That was a first for me, too, thinking of the consequences instead of just going with my gut instinct. That's what you did for me, J. You made me a better person, made we want for the first time in my life to please someone else, to put someone else before myself. Now, unless I miss my guess, Carver's starting to come around. I've seen the way he looks at you, and I know you're gonna forgive him if he asks you to. This money is my gift to you, Jamie. Use it to start a life with the guy. A life that for the two of us was never meant to be."

Jamie put down the letter, tears rolling down his face. He'd known somewhere inside that Ben had been in love with him, even though Ben had denied it that night at the Sheriff's office. To see it stated so baldly was still a shock, though. Several aching minutes passed before Jamie was able to pick the letter back up again.

"After heaping all that on you, I know I have no right to ask this next part, but when has that ever stopped me? The second envelope goes to the guy I was seeing. I swore I'd never tell anyone who he was, and I have to keep my word on this one. I know, I know. I'm dead, and honesty was never one of my sticking points in life, so why the burst of conscience now? The trouble is, J, I did something to the guy, took something from him I had no right to take. I'm not proud of it, but I used him, and I owe him for that. I can't tell you his name. That's one promise I will take to the grave. Hell, I guess I already did. For that reason, I ask that you not open the other envelope. I hate involving you in any of this, but you're the only one I can really trust. I might not be able to tell you flat out who the guy is, but, knowing you, you'll figure it out. When you do, please, give him the letter. And tell him I said I was sorry. No, scratch that. When he sees what's inside, he won't believe you, anyway. Okay, enough of this. I got a date with a cloud in my future, so I'm gonna run. I love you, J. Be happy--Ben."

Jamie refolded the letter and stared down at the fat, still sealed envelope with disbelief. What the hell was he supposed to do now? #

Dillon, Megan, and Jamie sat hunched in a corner booth at Hailey's the next day, trying to decide exactly that. Dillon reacted just as Jamie thought he would when he'd called Dillon last night and read the letter to him. "Open the damn thing."

Now here Dillon was, sitting in Hailey's and using a chicken finger as a pointer while he repeated himself. "I still say, open the envelope, find out who the guy is, and be done with it."

Megan, who was sitting across from Dillon and Jamie, shook flying chicken finger crumbs off her blouse. "If you point that thing at me one more time, I'm gonna stick it in a place chicken was never meant to go. Jamie's already explained why he can't open it, Dillon. It's a matter of ethics."

"Ethics? You wanna talk ethics? What about Lewis's ethics? God knows what he got Jamie mixed up in by leaving him that money. Now he wants to send him on a scavenger hunt? Find the missing boyfriend and you win a prize? Ethics, my ass."

A shadow fell across the table. "From what I hear, your ass has seen a shit-load of action lately, Carver."

Jamie felt Dillon tense beside him and turned to see Roy Carmichael standing over them, a couple of his thug boys at his side. They didn't call him Rooster for nothing. His round face was always beet red, and his dark brown hair stuck straight up on top of his head like a rooster's comb. Jamie heard a rumor that Rooster's eyes were brown, too, but they were small and beady enough to look black. He was medium height, but thick and well muscled from years of training with the football team. Jamie knew that there were reams of athletes out there with near genius I.Q.'s, guys totally undeserving of the dumb jock label. Rooster was not one of those guys. In fact, calling him dumb was giving him way too much credit.

Dillon had the unique ability to appear calm when he was seething inside. Only Jamie could see the tick in Dillon's jaw and feel the tightening of his body as they sat pressed together in the confining booth. Dillon drawled out, "I didn't realize you'd taken an interest in my ass, Rooster. Like what you see?"

Rooster's face got even redder, though Jamie would have sworn that wasn't possible. "I'll tell you what I don't like, Carver. I don't like knowing that one of our guys has switched teams. The way I see it, that's one more fag out there I have to worry about."

Dillon shifted in his seat. "What you worried about, Rooster? You afraid one of us queers is gonna make a play for you? Trust me, buddy, you ain't got that to worry about."

Rooster flexed his fists. "You think you got all the answers, don't you, Carver? Well, here's one for you: why don't you tell me what makes a normal guy like you go from banging a choice piece like Megan, here, to shoving it up Walker's nasty ass."

Dillon started to stand, but Megan and Jamie reached for him at the same time. Megan put her hand on Dillon's arm and said, "Don't do it, Dillon. He's not worth it, and Brandon isn't gonna hesitate to lock you up if you and Rooster start smashing this place."

Jamie slid his arm around Dillon's waist and whispered, "She's right. I couldn't stand it if you got arrested. Besides, I can't cook, so I couldn't even do a decent job of trying to break you out of jail. What am I gonna do, ask Hailey to bake you a cake with a file in it?"

Jamie felt Dillon relax a little just before he turned back to Rooster. "Rooster, if you think this is some kind of battle of wits we got going on here, I hate to burst your bubble, but you came to this fight unarmed. Now that we've established that, I believe you asked me a question."

"You're damned right I did, you smart mouthed little ass-fucker. I want to know when you gave up pussy and started chasing cock. What turned you queer?"

"Damn, Rooster, you mean you don't know what makes a man gay?" Dillon paused, and Jamie could tell he was building up to something. Finally, Dillon said, "Okay, I'll tell you, but this has to stay between us. I was bitten."

Rooster scratched his head. "Bitten? What the hell are you talking about, Carver?"

"Just what I said. You asked me what turned me queer, and now I'm telling you. I was walking home alone late one night, when out of nowhere, this rabid homosexual jumped me and bit me right on the ass. I tried to fight him off, but you know those homos have superhuman strength. Anyway, he bit me on my left cheek, then took off. The whole thing shook me up, but I thought I was gonna be okay. It took me a few weeks to notice the changes. At first the signs were subtle: the sudden urge to redecorate my room, the uncontrollable desire to do Megan's hair. Then, as the phases of the moon progressed, I noticed other things: the need to wear lace panties, the insane hope of one day owning my own flower shop. Before I knew it, I was jacking off six times a day to pictures of Brad Pitt and Russell Crowe. Of course, I won't be a full fledged gay boy until I bite someone else and pass on the 'dark gift.'" Dillon stood up, causing Jamie's arm to fall away. "Hey, Rooster, you wanna be my first convert? If I turn just four people, I win like a toaster oven or something."

The entire café burst into laughter, including Hailey, who was standing a few feet away, watching the whole show. Jamie and Megan were both rolling, shaking so hard the booth actually moved a couple of inches. Even Rooster's buddies were cracking up. The only one not amused was Rooster. "You are so full of shit, Carver."

Dillon looked hurt. "I am not. Here, I'll prove it to you." Dillon reached for his belt and began to undo the buckle. "Let me show you my scar. That guy took a plug out of my ass."

Rooster backed up. "I'm out of here." He turned to his cronies. "Come on, guys, let's jet." He threw on last look at Dillon and Jamie. "This ain't over, Carver. You and your little boyfriend are gonna pay. With Lewis dead, the count is one fag down. I say we make it three for three."

Rooster left, and Dillon fell back into his seat. Megan wiped her eyes. "Sweet Jesus. That was the funniest thing I think I've ever seen."

Jamie leaned against Dillon's shoulder, doing his best to stop laughing. "I had no idea I'd hooked myself to a comedy genius."

Dillon waggled his eyebrows. "There are a lot of things you don't know about me, but I'll be glad to show you all of them later on."

Hailey walked up to the table, her face flushed, fanning herself with a menu. "I've been thinking of hiring live entertainment for the Friday and Saturday night crowds. Do you do stand up?"

Dillon blushed. "Sorry about that, Hailey. I didn't mean to cause a scene."

"Don't you dare apologize. I thought you handled yourself with untold restraint. I kept expecting you to knock him on his rear. I like the way you handled it much better. You put him in his place without ever lifting a finger."

"Thanks. Um . . . if you have our check ready, I think we'll go." Dillon looked to Jamie and Megan, who nodded in agreement. "I believe I've had enough excitement for one day."

Hailey shook her head. "Lunch is on the house, today, kiddo. For all of you."

"You don't have to do that."

"Of course I do. That's the best laugh I've had in weeks. I'm gonna be telling that story for years to come."

Jamie and Megan both thanked her. Dillon said, "Thanks, Hailey. And thanks for not getting mad."

Hailey patted his arm and walked back towards the kitchen. As the crowd in the café resumed eating, Dillon said, "If you're ready, we'll head back to school."

As if they shared a brain, Jamie and Megan both said at exactly the same time, "As long as you promise not to bite us."

#

The debate about what to do with the second letter continued through the rest of the week. Jamie did his best to recall something--anything--that Ben might have said to give away the identity of his mystery boy. Something lurked on the fringes of his mind, something Ben said the night of the dance, but Jamie just could not wrap his brain around it. The stress of avoiding his newfound enemies--including Principal Morgan--and his nervous excitement over tonight's date with Dillon, had effectively turned everything in Jamie's skull to mush. He fastened the right cuff of his dark green button-up shirt and grabbed his jacket. He headed down the stairs to wait for Dillon and was intercepted at the living room door by Aunt Sadie. "Well, aren't you looking mighty spiffy this fine evening? You look a lot like your grandfather, did I ever tell you that?"

Jamie leaned over to kiss her cheek. "Yes ma'am, you did, but I never get tired of hearing it."

"You cheeky little rascal." She motioned him towards the living room sofa. "You may have heard me say you looked like your grandfather, but there's something I bet you don't know. Sit down while we wait for your young man, and I'll tell you."

Jamie followed her and took a seat next to her on the sofa. Some of Jamie's best memories were of this room. No major events had happened here. No lightening flashes to sear photos in Jamie's mind. Instead, it was a gentle remembrance, the long evenings sitting at Sadie's feet, listening to her tell him stories while she knitted. The childhood milestones recited after a hard day at school while Sadie oohed and ahhed in all the right places.

Sadie said, "Jamie, what do you know about your Grandpa Franklin?"

"Just that he was the husband of your only sister, and that he died when my mom was just a little girl."

Sadie nodded. "That's true. I think your mother was six or seven at the time. Franklin was killed in an auto accident. It was quite a shock. I'm not sure your grandmother ever got over it. Neither did I, but for a very different reason." Sadie took a deep breath. "Jamie, I was in love with your grandfather. He's the reason I never married."

Dammit. Did everybody he knew have a barrel of secrets stored up somewhere? Jamie said, "I had no idea."

"Of course not. No one did. Oh, I think my sister suspected. Jennie was nothing if not perceptive. But she knew I would never tell Franklin how I felt. He was totally enamored of her, and she knew it, so she wasn't threatened by me. Not in the least."


Sadie looked so sad, Jamie reached for her hand. "What happened?"

"I met Franklin at a community-sponsored dance the summer I turned sixteen. It was one of those old fashioned, heavily chaperoned affairs. I saw him standing across the room, with his dark blond hair and those hypnotic eyes of his, and just melted. A true case of love at first sight. But I was shy, Jamie, too shy to ever say anything. Back in those days, Reed had a dance every Friday night, and for months I watched Franklin, loving him more each time I saw him. After an eternity of worshiping him from afar, I decided to do something about it. I'd just worked up enough gumption to try talking to him, when I saw my sister sidle up and start a conversation. Jennie was the pretty one, the flirt. She was two years older than me, and worlds more sophisticated." Sadie shook her head with rueful amusement. "I was the smart one, sensible Sadie, as my father used to call me. Anyway, it was obvious that Franklin thought the sun rose and set on Jennie. No one was surprised when they started courting, nor when they married just six scant weeks later. Mother and Father were so proud, and so was I. I was proud for Jennie, but miserable for myself. I'd missed my chance, and I knew it." Sadie paused. "Do you know why I'm telling you this?"

"No ma'am, not really."

Sadie patted his hand. "I'm telling you this, my dear boy, because I want you to know how happy I am that you and Dillon are having your chance, that you didn't leave it too late. I also want you to know that I support you both, no matter what."

"Thanks, Aunt Sadie." Jamie stood up just as he heard Dillon's car in the driveway. Bending down to hug her goodbye, he said, "And thanks for telling me about Grandpa. It was nice to hear a little bit about him, but, for what it's worth, I've never felt like I missed out. You're all the family I've ever needed."

Sadie pulled back with tears in her eyes. "Thank you for that, Jamie. Thank you so, so much for that."

#

Dillon held Jamie's hand as the two of them approached the theater. Dinner had been amazing, the soft candlelight, the wealth of privacy. The food was nice too, he supposed, but Dillon had been too into Jamie to really taste it. God, Jamie looked good, with his black jeans and dark green button-up shirt, just a hint of his black tank showing underneath. And he smelled like Heaven--not cologne, but pure Jamie, a rich, heady smell that left Dillon hard and breathless.

Dillon insisted on paying for the meal, even though Heath had offered him money back at the apartment, and Jamie had tried his best to slip Dillon some cash at the restaurant. Dillon had compromised, finally, by telling Jamie he could pay for the popcorn and cokes at the movies and letting Heath take care of the cost of the movie tickets. Dillon wasn't used to letting other people help him, but he was learning.

The Empress Theater was amazing, all gold and glitz. Walking inside was like a trip back in time to the nineteen-thirties, from the lush red velvet benches in the entryway to the gold leaf frames surrounding the vintage posters on the wall. Faces like Clark Gable and Humphrey Bogart melded with visages of Rosalind Russell and Vivian Leigh. The rich smell of popcorn and roasted peanuts wafted from the old-fashioned hot boxes perched on the brightly lit candy counter. Business must be booming, too, if the throng of people waiting in line for tickets and snacks was any indication. Dillon and Jamie barely had time to take it all in before they were pounced on by a grinning Jesse Wade. He grabbed Dillon in a bear hug and swung him around the theater. "Heya, squirt. It's been a while."




The Way You Say My Name Ch. 08



Since Dillon was a good two inches taller than Jesse, being called "squirt" by his brother's childhood buddy was just too funny. Dillon laughed and clapped Jesse on the back. "Long time no see, man. What are you doing here?"

Jesse put him down, pulled back, and then grinned, his shaggy black hair falling into his navy blue eyes. "I own this joint, junior."

"Heath said a friend of his owned a theater in Chicago. He never told me it was you." Dillon surveyed his surroundings. "This place is incredible, Jesse."

The pride on Jesse's face was unmistakable. "She is, isn't she? It took us about two years to get her back in shape, but this old girl had good bones. She cleaned right up."

Jamie raised his brows. "I thought only cars and boats were thought of as female?"

Dillon's manners came back to him. "Damn. I was so surprised to see you, Jesse, I forgot to make introductions. Jesse Wade, this is James Walker, my--" Dillon faltered. What was Jamie to him? More importantly, what did Jamie think they were?

Jamie steeped up and solved the problem. He held out his hand. "James Walker, Dillon's boyfriend."

Boyfriend? Dillon's heart was beating so fast, he thought sure everyone else could hear it. If Jesse noticed Dillon's awestruck reaction to Jamie's response, he didn't show it. He shook Jamie's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, James. As for theaters being referred to as female, I don't think it's a usual thing. But when my better half and I bought the place, we figured only a lady could be as grand as we envisioned this one to be. So, we named her the Empress, and worked our fingers to the nub getting her just the way we wanted her." His expression changed from pride to affection. "Lucky for me, I fell in love with a carpenter. I wish Rafe could be here to meet you tonight, but I'm afraid he's away on a job. The restoration of The Empress went so well, he's been able to bid out on other restoration jobs." The pride was back, but this time Jesse's emotions were directed solely towards his mate. Only when Dillon and Jamie shifted where they stood did Jesse seem to snap out of it.

"Sorry about that. I get sorta sappy when I talk about Rafe." Jesse looked down at his watch. "The movie's gonna start in about fifteen minutes, so why don't we get you seated? Tonight's feature is an independent film called Destiny of Time. It's a gay vampire flick. I think you'll really like it. Destiny racked up at the Indie Awards. Hard to believe the guy who wrote it is only twenty-five-years old." He hesitated, then said, "Um, if it's okay with you, I'm gonna put you up in the balcony. It's closed to the public, so I thought you might have some, uh, privacy."

Dillon saw Jamie swallow. The last thing he wanted to do was make Jamie feel uncomfortable or rushed. He started to refuse Jesse's offer, but Jamie spoke before he could.

"That sounds nice, actually." He gave Dillon a shy smile. "If it's okay with you, that is?"

Dillon nodded, unable to speak, his emotions clogging his throat. He looked into Jamie's eyes, and for a minute, he could have sworn they were the only two people in the universe. Finally, Jamie said, "Um, I'll just go get the popcorn and stuff. Any special requests, Dillon?"

"Extra butter, please."

"Gotcha."

As soon as Jamie left, Jesse started laughing. Dillon said, "What?"

"Heath told me you had it bad, squirt, but I had no idea just how bad. I thought for a minute I was gonna have to turn on the sprinklers and cool you two off, the way you were looking at each other." Jesse put his hand on Dillon's arm. "For what it's worth, James looks like a man in love to me."

Dillon had often heard the expression, "I'd give my left nut," followed by whatever it was the speaker desired. He'd always thought it a little extreme to pledge a testicle for the want of a new car or a "bitchin'" motorcycle. With Jesse's words, though, Dillon realized he knew exactly what that phrase meant. He'd give his left nut to know that Jamie loved him, to hear him say the words. Jamie returned before he could tell Jesse that, though. 

Juggling popcorn and cokes, Dillon and Jamie followed Jesse to the back staircase, the one leading to the balcony. Jesse unclasped the chain holding the closed sign, and motioned them forward. "Go on up, guys. I'll refasten this as soon as you go so no one will bother you." 

After giving Jesse another round of thanks, Dillon and Jamie headed for the balcony. The plush red fabric of the seats gleamed in the low lighting, giving the whole area a cozy, warm feeling. Dillon motioned Jamie towards one of the center rows, far enough away from the railing so as to be hidden from anyone happening to look up. Dillon had Jamie all to himself, and he wanted to keep it that way.

The lights dimmed to the point of nonexistence not long after they were seated. Since the Empress showed nothing but classic movies and independent films, the previews were limited. Before long, Dillon was caught up in the plot of the main feature. The story captivated him, the tale of a teenage boy, brought back from the brink of death by a centuries old savior who himself had much to learn about living. The movie was well done, the script tight. Even as intent on the movie as Dillon was, though, there wasn't a single minute when Dillon wasn't aware that Jamie was sitting by his side. The subtle brush of Jamie's fingers as they met Dillon's in the popcorn bucket. The way Jamie laughed in all the right places, the smell of his hair as he leaned close to whisper something about the movie. All those things were driving Dillon crazy. He had to touch him, had to hold him.

Dillon leaned over. "Jamie?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you, um . . ." Okay, Carver, time to pull together some nerve. "Would you mind, uh, sitting on my lap?"

Dillon thought for a second he was gonna refuse. Jamie sat stone still and dead silent. It wasn't until he set the bucket aside and stood up that Dillon released the breath he'd been holding.

Jamie settled cautiously on Dillon's legs, facing the front so as to see the screen, his back resting against Dillon's stomach. It took him a minute to get settled, causing no small amount of wiggling--and no small amount of swelling to Dillon's groin. He was starting to think he'd made a mistake. What would Jamie say if Dillon shot off right then and there? Jamie finally got comfortable, causing Dillon to make an audible sigh of relief.

Jamie leaned further back. "Is this okay?"

"Perfect." And it was. He could feel Jamie's warmth, the soft weight of him a burden Dillon would gladly bear again and again. He maneuvered an arm around Jamie's waist and pulled him all the way in until there wasn't a space between them. "How about you? You comfortable?"

Jamie rested the back of his head against Dillon's shoulder, Dillon's mouth just inches from the exposed flesh of Jamie's neck. "Um hmm. This feels good."

Dillon relaxed and returned his attention to the movie as best he could. It was a blissful agony to have Jamie so close, but it was one Dillon wouldn't have traded. His body was on fire--his mind on overdrive--but Dillon did his best to focus on the film. Enter the feeding scene.

Dillon enjoyed a good vampire movie as much as the next teenage boy, but he rarely felt the urge to actually bite someone's neck. Jamie wasn't just anyone, though, and having the man he loved on his lap was too much temptation for Dillon. Just as the main character pulled out his fangs and bit the object of his affection on screen, Dillon lowered his head and scraped his teeth against the tender line of Jamie's jugular. Jamie shivered and moaned slightly, giving Dillon the encouragement he needed. He went in again, only this time Dillon used his tongue to trace the curve between Jamie's neck and shoulder. Jamie came unglued. He was moving and thrashing to the point that Dillon thought sure he'd hurt him.

"Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?"

Jamie's reply was a breathless rasp. "You didn't do anything wrong. It's just . . . oh God, Dillon, that feels so good."

"Can I--Can I keep going?" 

An immediate, "Yes." 

Exactly what Dillon wanted to hear. Keeping his mouth on Jamie's neck, Dillon slipped his hand under Jamie's shirt, tugging at the tank underneath until it was out of the way and the flat of his palm rested on Jamie's bare flesh. Using a slight amount of pressure, Dillon caressed the tensed muscles of Jamie's stomach, circling lazy patterns on his skin. He continued the assault on Jamie's neck with his mouth, alternately biting and licking from his head to his shoulder. His plan was only to bring Jamie pleasure, to give back something so long denied. And if Jamie's moans were any indication, the plan was working well. It wasn't until his hand accidentally dipped lower than he intended that Dillon realized just how well. When the knuckles of his right hand brushed the tent in Jamie's jeans, it was all Dillon could do to hold Jamie on his lap and keep him from going off like a rocket. Dillon stilled his hand long enough to let Jamie catch his breath.

"You okay, baby?"

"Yeah." Jamie might be okay, but he was panting like he'd just done ten laps around the building. His voice was thready, strained. "When you touched me like that, I sorta lost it." He stopped and took in a gust of air. "I know it was an accident, and I wasn't expecting it, but it just felt so . . ."

"So, what? It felt so what, Jamie?"

"Right. It felt so right."

Dillon's reply was a soft whisper against Jamie's ear. "Jamie?"

"Huh?"

"Can I touch you there again, only on purpose this time?"

Again, no hesitation, though Dillon could feel him trembling. "Yes."

Dillon kissed him on the jaw. "I'm gonna take it slow, and if I do anything you don't like, tell me and I'll stop. Okay?"

"'K."

Dillon wasn't sure where he found the restraint, but he forced himself to be gentle as he moved his hand to Jamie's fly. They were both shaking, all too aware of the bridge they were crossing. Jamie's button gave way with minimal protest, but Dillon could have sworn everyone in the theater heard the rasp of Jamie's zipper as Dillon pulled it down. Parting the fabric into a V, Dillon exposed Jamie's cotton-covered erection. He paused, waiting for Jamie to give him the signal to stop. When no such signal came, Dillon braced himself and then brushed one tentative fingertip against the slightly moist spot on the fabric directly above Jamie's head. Jamie closed his eyes and whimpered.

"Still okay?"

Jamie nodded. "Please, don't stop."

Dillon kissed his temple. "I won't. You ready?"

"Uh huh."

Careful not to snap the elastic, Dillon eased his fingers under the waist band of Jamie's cotton boxers, avoiding Jamie's erection while he shifted the fabric out of the way. Jamie's crisp curls swirled around his wrist, setting Dillon on fire with sensation. Dillon tugged lightly until Jamie was free of the fabric, the boxers having been bunched down into his jeans, which Dillon had pulled low onto Jamie's hips. This was it. No more excuses. Dillon fastened his mouth to a spot just above Jamie's collar and started sucking at the same time as his hand circled Jamie's length. He let go of Jamie's neck just long enough to whisper, "Is this okay?"

Jamie was practically vibrating. "God, yes."

Dillon had forgotten how big Jamie was. Either that, or he'd grown in the years they'd been apart. Whatever the case, God had made up for Jamie's lack of height by blessing him abundantly in his private region. Jamie was at least eight inches, and thick--so thick, Dillon swallowed at the thought of one day having Jamie inside him. He would, though. The time for selfishness had long since ended. With that thought in mind, Dillon began to stroke up and down all along Jamie's satin skin. His touch was light, but it was enough to have Jamie gasping for what little air his over-sensitized lungs could pull in.

How long he kept stroking, Dillon wasn't sure. In between the thrust of his fist, Dillon laved Jamie's neck and shoulder with his teeth and tongue. Soon he felt Jamie tense.

"Dillon, I'm gonna shoot."

"Go ahead, baby. Let it go."

And he did, pouring out his release in an almost painful rush of moans and gasps. Dillon held on, stoking the fires until Jamie sagged against him like a rag doll.

"You okay?"

Jamie nodded, seemingly unable to speak. Dillon understood. He'd never felt so good--or so powerful--in his life. He'd brought Jamie off, given something to him that he'd never given to anyone else. It wasn't until the cool air hit his hand that Dillon realized how uncomfortable Jamie must be. Reaching down beside him, Dillon located some of the napkins Jamie had snagged when he brought the popcorn and began to clean him off.

He was half afraid that Jamie would regret what they'd just done, but he surrendered to Dillon's cleaning efforts without a fuss. In fact, he nuzzled against Dillon's neck as Dillon finished the job and helped him back into his clothes. Dillon pulled him close and wrapped him up tight. Jamie twisted until they were facing, and then Dillon felt Jamie's hand move between them. "No, Jamie. Not tonight."

Jamie's face was a mask of surprise in the pale light from the screen. "But I want to make you feel good, the same as you did for me. Dillon, no one's ever touched me like that before."

"No one?"

Jamie shook his head. "You seem surprised. Did you think I'd had a steady stream of fuck buddies?"

"A stream, no. But surely you've had offers?"

Jamie rested his head back on Dillon's shoulder. "A few, but I wasn't interested. They weren't you." He kissed Dillon's throat. "Now can I touch you? Please."

Dillon cleared his throat. He hoped Jamie didn't think he was crazy, but he had to tell him what he was feeling. "Jamie, it's not that I don't want you to touch me, it's just that it isn't necessary."

"Not necessary? You mean you--"

"No, and I don't need to." When Jamie seemed skeptical, Dillon went on to say, "Yeah, I'm hard as a rock, and seeing you come like that is gonna have my blood boiling for weeks, but it was enough just to hold you tonight, to touch you. I'll have my turn, but for now I just want to make you feel good. I want tonight to be only about you."

Jamie raised his head and looked straight into Dillon's eyes. "I'm not sure what to say. I . . . I had no idea you felt that way."

"You don't have to say anything. Just let me enjoy you for a while before we take it any further" Dillon grinned. "Course, if you were to kiss me, I doubt I'd try to stop you."

Jamie smiled and leaned his head forward. He didn't need to be asked twice.

#

Jamie and Dillon sat inside the Lumina, holding hands and sharing an occasional kiss, but mostly just talking. How long they'd been parked in Aunt Sadie's driveway, Jamie couldn't say. This was one of the things he'd missed the most with Dillon, the quiet times, the conversation. Dillon got him on a level no one else--not even Ben--ever had. He still couldn't believe the two of them were together, starting fresh. It seemed like a dream he hoped he'd never wake up from. A flicker caught Jamie's eye, and he laughed as he saw the porch light come on and go off for the fourth time. "That one was only two minutes behind the last one." He sighed. "I guess that's Aunt Sadie's signal for me to go inside."

Dillon picked up Jamie's hand and kissed it. "If you must, you must. I have to say, I admire your aunt's style. My father would have just marched out here and yanked me out of the car if he'd wanted me to come inside."

Jamie studied him for a minute. "Do you miss your folks?"

"A little bit, I guess. I mean, there are things I miss about them, certain qualities, but I know they can never accept me the way I am. Deep down I know I'm better off."

Jamie brushed the hair back from Dillon's brow with the tips of his fingers. "Why wouldn't you let me touch you back at the theater, Dillon? I wanted to."

Dillon all but purred as Jamie's fingers brushed against his scalp. "I know you did, and I wanted it to. But like I said, tonight was about you. Hell, I almost shot from watching you get off. Taking my own pleasure after that just wouldn't have been the same." His smile was pure mischief. "Are you that anxious to get into my pants?"

The porch light came on again. "I am, but I don't think Aunt Sadie is gonna wait." He leaned forward and kissed Dillon, a light brush of lip against lip, but enough to send sparks flying. "As much as I hate to, I'd better go. Aunt Sadie does so much for me, and she doesn't ask anything in return. The least I can do is respect her wishes."

"That's one of the things I admire about her, Jamie. She does what she does because she loves you, not so she can hold it over your head. Douglas Carver doesn't do anything for anybody unless he can get something out of the deal. My father thinks he owns the world."

It was like a switch someone had flipped. The nagging memory that had plagued Jamie since the minute he read Ben's letter finally popped to the surface. That night at the sheriff's station, Ben had told Jamie about meeting his boyfriend at the old Tanner Textile Mill. Ben's exact words were, "My friend's family owns the whole place." Jamie grabbed Dillon and pulled him close.

Dillon stroked Jamie's hair. "Not that I'm complaining, but what was that for?"

Jamie pulled back and kissed him again. "For making me remember something I've been trying to think of for days. I know who he is, Dillon."

"He who?" It took Dillon a minute before realization dawned. "You mean--"

"Yes. I know how to find Ben's boyfriend."

#

It sounded so easy at the time, but knowing how to find somebody, and actually finding them were two different things. After a week of searching, Jamie and Megan were finally forced to admit defeat. She'd been pulled into the project almost immediately, but the two of them were quickly coming to the conclusion that they weren't gonna find anything on their own. They'd scoured the courthouse and city hall, but the red tape and nonsensical filing system made digging up any sort of useful information impossible. Dillon helped as much as he could, but between work and school, he didn't have any time to spare. Jamie sat in the basement of the courthouse, pouring thru deeds. After an hour of searching and finding nothing, he looked across the table at his partner in crime.

"Megan, I don't think it's in here. Maybe we should ask somebody."

Megan blew a dust bunny off the end of her nose. "I'm all for that, but who should we ask?"

"How about your brother?"

"Brandon would want to know why we wanted the owner's name."

And then Jamie would have to tell him about the money. Damn. Megan was right. There was no way Jamie could go to Brandon. At least, not yet. He was fresh out of options when Megan said, "What about Heath?"

"What about him?"

"Well, he works for the fire department, and I bet they keep records of all the inspections done on factories and businesses in the area."

"Yeah, but Tanner Textile has been closed down for years. The owners would have no need for fire inspection reports."

Megan shook her head. "If the new owners are using the property as a tax write off, they probably have insurance. And if they have insurance, they had to have it inspected. I bet Heath could get a copy of the report, which would have the property owner's name on it."

"You make a good point, but you're forgetting one thing."

"What?"

"Just like Brandon, Heath would want to know what we were looking for."

Megan shrugged. "So we tell him."

"Huh?"

"Well, unlike Brandon, Heath isn't duty-bound to report that money. Besides, he loves Dillon. I just know he'll want to help."

Jamie hoped she was right, but he wasn't betting on it.

#

"You found forty-two-thousand dollars, where?"




The Way You Say My Name Ch. 08



Jamie did his best to dissolve into the couch cushions, but Dillon had learned long ago the best way to handle Heath was not to back down. He squeezed Jamie's hand and said, "You heard us the first four times we said it."

Heath got up from his perch on the chair and started pacing back and forth across the apartment's small living room. "So let me get this straight. Ben Lewis leaves Jamie a wad of cash and some hokey death-bed confession letter, but instead of going to the cops like any normal people would, the two of you have decided to break out your junior detective kits. What is this, Revenge of the Hardy Boys?"

Dillon hated to do it, but Heath left him no choice. He would have to play the M card. Winking at Jamie, Dillon said, "I told Megan you wouldn't help us, but she swore up and down you would."

Heath's head spun around so fast, Dillon was surprised he didn't get whiplash. "You dragged Megan into this. Damn it, Dillon--"

"Think about it, Heath. Do you really think I could force Megan to do anything she didn't wanna do?"

Heath sank back down into his chair wearing that same defeated look that most of the men in Megan's life wore. "No, Megan knows her own mind. Was it really her idea for me to ferret out that info for you?" 

"Yep."

"You know it could take me a while to access the records, don't you?"

Jamie spoke up. "We understand. We're just grateful for the help. Me most of all, since Ben was my friend in the first place."

Heath leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "I'm not gonna get out of this, am I?"

Dillon hid his smile. "Not unless you want to disappoint Megan."

Heath's sigh was pure resignation. "That's what I was afraid of."

#

Heath had warned that it would take a while to scout out the owner of Tanner Textile. A while turned out to be three days. Friday afternoon, Dillon, Megan, and Jamie sat waiting in Heath's living room for a full report.

"Are you sure Heath said to meet him here?"

Dillon glared over at Megan from where he sat on the couch, cuddling with Jamie. "No less sure than I was the first four times you asked me, Megan." Megan sat in Heath's favorite chair, her legs curled beneath her. "I know, I know. I'm a gnat, buzzing around and bugging the crap out of you both. But I can't help it. I want this thing resolved so you and Jamie won't have to worry about it anymore."


Dillon was immediately contrite. "Sorry, Meggie. Didn't mean to snap. Ever since Heath called me this afternoon and asked us to meet him here, I've been on edge."

Jamie squeezed Dillon's hand and gave Megan one of his killer smiles. "At the risk of sounding like a puss, I just want to thank both of you for helping me. You didn't have to bust your tails to track down Ben's guy, but I'm damned glad you did." His voice cracked and his smile wavered a little. "I'm grateful, and I have the feeling that Ben would be, too."

Dillon pressed himself tight to Jamie's left side, and Megan came to sit on the couch, cosseting Jamie on the right. They were both so intent on giving Jamie their love and comfort, neither heard Heath come in.

"Hey, how come Jamie gets all the attention? I'm the one who's been busting his hump trying to track down Mr. Mystery Lover."

The anticipation in the room was so thick, Dillon swore he could taste it. Jamie stood up, but kept a death grip on Dillon's hand. Dillon and Megan rose as well, but it was Jamie who said, "You found him? You know who owns the property?"

"Yep. It wasn't easy, either, let me tell you. I spent my day off combing through old inspection reports, code violation tickets, rewiring permits--"

Dillon felt Jamie's trembling and scowled at his brother. "For Christ's sake, Heath, would ya tell us already?"

Heath had the good grace to look apologetic. "Sorry about that. Anyway, the property owner is listed as a Mr. A. F. Barnes, Junior."

Megan gasped, and Jamie said, "You mean--"

"A. F. Barnes, Junior, otherwise known as Ashton Franklin Barnes the Second, only has one son." Dillon swore. "Mother fucker. Ben's boyfriend was Ash."

{TO BE CONTINUED}



The Way You Say My Name Ch. 09



"Maybe I'd better do this alone."

Dillon paused, his key poised in the Lumina's ignition. "No way, Jamie. Ash more or less tried to ram his cock down your throat the last time. What's he gonna do for an encore, strip you down and rape you?"

"Yeah, well, he was drunk last time, too."

"Who's to say he won't be drinking this time?"

Dillon had a point, but Jamie wasn't about to tell him so. Besides, he had to make sure of one thing before giving in. "You're not gonna jump on the guy and start pounding him the minute we walk in are you?"

Dillon gave Jamie his most angelic smile and said, "Me? Never." When Jamie made the "Yeah, right" face, Dillon said, "I promise, Jamie, I'll be the soul of understanding and compassion."

He sounded so sincere, but Jamie wasn't buying a single word of it.

By the time they pulled up to Ash's house, it was pushing seven o'clock. Jamie said, "He may not even be home. It is Friday night."

"Then we track him down." Dillon parked at one end of the circular drive and shut off the engine. "I want you to give him that damn letter and be done with it, Jamie. There's no way you can move on and start putting Ben's death behind you when you're constantly getting dragged back in."

That was one thing they were in perfect agreement on. Jamie wanted to end this, to settle it once and for all. He had a bad feeling about what was in that letter to Ash. He'd know that Ben had some fuzzy areas when it came to right and wrong, but he chose to remember Ben as the loving, devoted friend he'd been, not the desperate kid who often did whatever struck his fancy to earn a quick buck. Jamie didn't want to know any more than necessary.

Ash's house smacked of old money, from the cobblestone paths leading to the house from all directions, to the thirty room mansion itself. Jamie looked up, certain Ash's father must be having some sort of party. Every one of the more than twenty windows at the front of the house was brightly lit, giving the red brick, colonial façade an eerie orange glow. Jamie stopped short of the massive, oak double front doors. "It looks like they're having a party, Dillon. Maybe we should go."

Dillon shook his head. "I don't think so. Remember what Ash said at Ben's memorial service? His father and his new wife have gone on a second honeymoon. It's only been two weeks. I doubt seriously if they'd be back yet."

"Maybe Ash is having a bunch of his football cronies over."

Dillon looked around. "Then where are all the cars? Or the loud music? Hell, with that crowd Ash hangs around with, someone would be shit-faced and standing in the front yard crushing beer cans between his naked ass cheeks."

Jamie could have gone years without having that visual image in his head. He gave in and rang the doorbell. He and Dillon waited, listening while the chimes echoed throughout the home. Jamie half expected one of those old English butlers to answer the door, but a red-eyed Ash came to the summons instead. 

Ash took one look at Jamie and Dillon, turned white as death, and said, "What are you doing here?"

"We came to talk to you, Barnes. You gonna let us in, or what?"

"Look, Carver, if this is about what happened at that memorial thing--"

Jamie stepped in. "It's not, Ash. We know you were drinking that night or none of that stuff would have happened."

Jamie thought he saw Ash relax a little, but not much. "If you're not here so Carver can kick my ass, then what are you doing here?" 

God, this was hard. Jamie cleared his throat. "I, um, have a letter for you."

Ash narrowed his eyes. "A letter? From who?" His eyes went wide. "You're not suing me for assault or anything are you? Look, I know I was out of line there at the church, but I never really touched you. If you think you're gonna make me pay just because I made a play for you, you can just forget it."

Dillon didn't have much patience to begin with, and Ash had just stretched it to its limit. "We're not here to sue you, dumbass. We're here to deliver a letter from Ben."

"Ben, who?"

Jamie knew what was coming. He tried to signal for Dillon to stop, but it was too late. Dillon said, "Ben Lewis, Barnes. You know, the guy you were screwing?"

Ash looked first at Dillon, then at Jamie. After giving them both his best impression of a deer caught in the headlights, he promptly threw up. 

Jamie glared at Dillon. "Help me get him back into the house so we can clean him up. Thanks so much, Mr. Understanding and Compassion."

#

Dillon and Jamie sat in the family room at the back of the Barnes house, waiting while Ash finished showering. Dillon had cleaned up the mess in the entryway, while Jamie had gotten Ash calmed down enough to clean himself up. Now they were just waiting. Dillon cursed himself. He should have just kept his mouth shut, but that was damn hard where Jamie was concerned. Dillon couldn't stand the thought of Jamie getting hurt, but it was more than that. Ash's attitude, his total denial of the relationship with Ben--of even being gay--stung. It reminded Dillon far too much of the way he'd treated Jamie two years ago.

He looked around the Barnes house. He'd been here a couple of times before, for some of those raucous parties he mentioned to Jamie. One thing always struck Dillon. No matter how many people were here, be it ten or a hundred, the house always seemed empty. The furnishings were top of the line, and Ash's father had obviously spared no expense with the decorating, but the place had a museum like quality, as if no one actually lived there.

Ash came back in a few minutes later. His hair was still wet, and he was wearing fresh clothes. The thing that got to Dillon the most, though, was the lost look in Ash's eyes. He'd seen it once before, the night of Ben's memorial. He hadn't recognized it the first time, mainly because he hadn't known about Ben and Ash, but he now saw it for what it was. It was the same look Dillon had worn for the entire two years he'd been without Jamie. Dillon's heart immediately started to soften towards the guy. Ash had been in love with Ben.

Ash took the chair directly across from the sofa Jamie and Dillon shared. He was quite for several minutes before saying, "How much do you know?"

Dillon was gonna let Jamie handle it from here on in. He'd done enough damage himself. Jamie said, "Not much really. Ben told me that his boyfriend used to meet him at the old Tanner Mills, and that said boyfriend's family owned the place. We tracked you down through that."

"Why, though? What does it matter now? What, you wanna out me because of the way I've treated you? Go ahead. At this point, I don't even care."

"No one's gonna out you, Ash." Jamie pulled the thick envelope out of his coat pocket. "Ben left me the key to a safe deposit box in his will. There were two letters inside, one for me, and the other labeled, 'To be revealed.' In his letter to me, Ben's last request was that I find out who his boyfriend was and give this to him. I've done that." Jamie stretched out the hand that held the envelope.

Ash looked at it long and hard before reaching out to take it. Even then, he held it between two fingers, as if it was a poisonous snake about to strike. Ash looked to Jamie. "What's in here?"

Jamie shrugged. "That, I couldn't say. Ben asked me not to open it, so I didn't. My job was to find out who you were and to deliver it." He stood up, prompting Dillon to do the same. "I've kept my word. Now maybe Ben can rest in peace."

Jamie turned to leave, and Dillon followed. They'd almost made it to the door, when Ash said, "Wait." Then, a little quieter. "Please?"

Jamie turned. "What is it?" Ash lowered his head. "Could you stay with me while I open it? I . . . I'm all alone here. My dad won't be home for another week, and--" He broke off, but not before Dillon heard the trembling in his voice.

Jamie trekked back across the room. "Is that why all the lights are on? Because you feel a little less lonely?"

Ash looked up. "Yeah. How did you know?"

"I used to turn all the lights on at Aunt Sadie's, right after my mom left." Jamie smiled. "Used to drive my aunt crazy, but I think she understood."

Ash was so miserable, Dillon could feel it, even from where he stood. "It's always been like this. My mom is busy with her new husband and their kids, and my dad . . . well, I know he loves me, but he's got his own thing goin' on. Know what I mean?"

Jamie nodded and reclaimed his seat on the couch. Dillon joined him, and then looked to Ash. "Where's Chad? I thought you two always spent the weekends hangin' out."

"He wanted to, but I didn't feel like it. I haven't felt much like partying since, well, you know."

"Since Ben died?"

The look Ash gave Jamie was heartbreaking, even to Dillon. "Yeah. Not since then."

Dillon couldn't stand it. "Look, Ash. You and I have sorta been friends most of our lives."

"So?"

Dillon leaned forward. "So, friends tell each other stuff. Talk to us, man. Tell us what happened."

Still holding the letter, Ash leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. "There's not a whole heck of a lot to tell. I've known I was probably gay for a while now, but except for the occasional blowjob at one of those rest stop glory holes out on the interstate, I haven't really done anything about it. When the urge got too bad, I'd go out there, get my rocks off, and be finished until the next time. That's where I met Ben. Well, not met him, exactly. I mean, I knew him from school, but the rest stop is the first place we ever hooked up."

When Ash paused, Dillon said, "Not to be an ass, but what about all those girls you're always, um . . ."

"Screwing? Cause that's all it ever was." Ash opened his eyes. "Sure, I've had lots of sex with a lot of girls, but I never used any of them. Every single one knew that I wasn't gonna make a commitment. And I wasn't using them as a cover. I like girls--even like the sex--just not as much as I do with guys."

Jamie nodded. "You're probably bisexual, then, with a preference for men."

Ash closed his eyes and leaned back again. "Probably, but none of that really matters, anymore. I don't want to be with anybody, male or female. All I wanted was Ben. Then he dumped me, and before I could make it right, he died."

Jamie's whole body went rigid. "Wait a minute. What do you mean 'Ben dumped you?'"

"Just what I said. We met that night, after the dance. I'd seen that kiss he gave you. I got so pissed, I ended up telling Ben I wanted him to make a choice: me or you." Ash opened his eyes again and glanced at Jamie. "I know that was the wrong thing to do, especially since I'd just gotten done feeling up Blair Dees on our way into the gym. But Ben was the one who wanted to keep things light. He suggested that I keep dating girls--keep sexing them up--so no one would get suspicious. Hell, I guess I was using girls as a cover, after all. Nothing like fucking a woman at your boyfriend's request." Ash laughed, but the sound held about as much joy as a public execution. "After I saw him lay that kiss on you, I realized just how much I had to lose if I lost Ben. I begged him to stay with me, to make some kind of commitment. I even told him I was ready to come out, to tell everyone about us, my father included. He freaked out when I told him. Said he didn't want that with me. He walked away from me, but not before telling me he never wanted to see me again."

Jamie looked more confused than Dillon had ever seen him. "Ash, are you sure about that, about what he said, I mean? Think real hard. Ben told me the exact opposite of what you're saying now." Ash looked at Jamie like he was crazy, but there was no malice in his voice when he said, "Of course I'm sure. It's not everyday a man loses the only person he's ever really loved. Why do you think I spent the next twelve hours calling him every thirty minutes, begging him to meet me at the foreman's house so we could talk? He finally gave in somewhere around call number twenty-three. I guess he was on his way to meet me when he was hit by that car."

Jamie looked like he wanted to say something, but Ash must not have noticed. Dillon saw it, though. It took him a minute, but the pieces eventually clicked. If Ben was on his way to meet Ash, what was he doing out on Tully Road, in the opposite direction from Tanner Textile?

Ash picked up the envelope again, holding it with a firmer grip this time. "You really don't know what's in here?" When Jamie shook his head, Ash said, "Might as well find out," and tore into it.

Dillon watched as Ash pulled a folded piece of white paper and what looked like an envelope from one of those twenty-four-hour photo places out of the larger envelope. Dillon remembered Ben's words from the letter Jamie had read to him over the phone. I took something from him I had no right to take or something like that. He had a bad feeling about what could be in that photo package. Dillon was about to suggest that Ash go for the letter first, but it was a moot point. Ash reached for the paper first, anyway.

Ash didn't even make it to the first line before he started tearing up. He held the paper out in front of himself. "Would you read it? I don't think I can."

Dillon wasn't sure if Ash was talking to him or Jamie, but judging from the look on Jamie's face, he was in no better shape to read it than Ash. Swallowing hard, Dillon leaned over and took the letter from Ash's hand. Clearing his throat, Dillon began to read.

"Dear Ash, I've done a lot of really bad shit in my life, but I can honestly say I've never felt guilty about any of it. Not until now, that is. Most of the guys I screwed over had it coming. The way I see it, they got what they deserved. But not you. The only real crime you committed was getting mixed up with a hustler. Yeah, that's me. I was a hustler, Ash. A whore. I was pretty damn good at it, too, if I do say so myself. Where do you think I learned all those little tricks I used on you? Come on, admit it. That ass flexing thing I used to do drove you wild." Dillon stopped long enough to wince. Definitely too much information. He sighed and continued reading. "I can't take all the credit, though. I learned from the best, a guy named Burke Carpenter. Burke was my foster father/pimp. Hell of a guy, let me tell you. Actually, as far as pimps go, he wasn't so bad. He started me early, and by the time I was fifteen, I was pulling in the cash. Not that I ever saw any of it. Burke gave his boys just enough for clothes and food. At first it seemed like an okay deal, but the older I got, the more I got tired of sucking cock and bending over just to make some guy who's supposed to be taking care of me rich. That's why I finally ran away. I was picked up and sent to Nora's, and from there, you know the rest. Just thinking about how much money I lost to that guy makes me mad, so I'm gonna shut up about him. Before I do, though, there's one more thing I have to tell you about good ole' Burke."

"Burke might have been a sleaze, but he was damned smart for a piece of slime. Burke always said, 'Diversify your interests.' I had no idea what that meant when I was fifteen, but now I know that it's the same thing Nora means when she says, 'Never put all your eggs in one basket.' Anyway, Burke's idea of diversifying his interests was to tape his boys having sex with their clients. We aren't talking your average clients here, either. Some of the guys were city leaders, police officers, trust fund babies. Burke had a stable of wealthy regulars. Why do you think no one's ever been able to shut him down? He has too many satisfied customers in high places for that to ever happen. Like I said, Burke is smart. He never counted on just the income he made from whoring us out. He'd tape these guys having sex with us, and then use the tapes for leverage. Not only would he get the fee they paid him to 'do' us, but he'd have something he could use against them later on. Like I said, sometimes he'd flat-out ask for money, but most of the time it was favors he was after. I may have hated the guy, but he was a good teacher, and I'm a quick study. I decided to diversify my own interests. That's where you come in."

Dillon felt like he was gonna throw up. He knew what was coming. Apparently, Ash did, too. Dillon looked across the coffee table. Ash was a sickly shade of white, but it was his expression that chilled Dillon to the bone. Rather, his lack of expression. Not a single one of the thousand emotions Ash had to be feeling was written on his face. In a dry monotone, Ash said, "Keep reading. Finish it." Dillon looked to Jamie. The pain on his face was evident, but Jamie only nodded, giving Dillon the signal to do what Ash said. With little choice, Dillon picked up where he'd left off. 

"J was always telling me that I was better than most people thought, but I knew that wasn't right. I know myself for what I am, well, was: a hustler who's always looking out for the bottom line. You deserve to know the whole truth, so I'm gonna tell you, as bad as it is."

"Our little meeting at the rest stop was no accident. Oh, the first time I saw you there, I had no idea you were gay, but I soon found out. I saw you and another guy sucking each other off in one of the bathroom stalls. Those glory holes do come in handy. I knew you were rich, so I staked you out. Took me about two months of ground work, but I finally engineered a run in with you. I built our relationship slowly, and the minute I had your trust, I knew we were ready for phase two: fucking. You helped by choosing the Mill for our meeting spot. Lots of places to hide a camera in that old foreman's house. I'm not as high-tech as Burke was, so I went for one of those time lapse thirty-five-millimeter cameras, the kind that can be set to take pictures every few minutes. I'd set the timer before you got there, get you all hot and bothered, and by the time we were both naked--slide show city."

"I took the pics to one of those one-hour-photo places and trotted them down to your dad's office. Told him unless he wanted to see his son's ass plastered all over the Net and beyond, he'd pay up. Since I didn't need any favors, I asked for cold, hard cash. Your dad forked it over without even putting up a fight. My plan worked better than I'd ever dreamed. The only problem was, I grew to like you too much."

"I'm what Nora always called a one-man-man. She claimed that no matter how much I screwed around, there would always be one special guy who held my heart. She was right about that. I wish that guy could have been you, but the truth is, James Walker had me wrapped around his finger from day one. Just because I couldn't love you, though, doesn't mean I didn't care. Okay, I didn't at first. To me you were just a red-hot fuck/meal ticket. But as I got to know you--as a person, not just as a wallet--I realized that what I was doing was seriously fucked up. When you started telling me you loved me and begging me not to break up with you, I lost it. That's why I broke things off. Don't get me wrong. I didn't feel bad enough to give back the money, but I couldn't keep doing what I was doing. Who knows? Maybe doing that one decent thing will get me into Heaven. I used to believe that if there was a God, he wouldn't waste his time on me, but meeting J changed all that. Only God could send someone like him to a guy like me. Anyway, in the inner envelope you'll find the only copies of the pictures I took. Well, besides the ones I gave to your dad, but I'm sure he destroyed those the first chance he got. Just so you know, your father didn't seem to be upset by the fact that you were gay, Ash. He was mad as hell that I was using you, but the gay thing didn't seem to enter into it. He may have a hard time showing it, but the guy really does love you. He said he'd do anything to protect his son. When you read this letter, try to remember that someone really does care about you. Even if I was never able to. I'd say I'm sorry, but you'd never believe it after all this--Ben."




The Way You Say My Name Ch. 09



Dillon refolded the letter, at a total loss about what to say next. Gee, Ash sorry your boyfriend took pictures of the two of you going at it like bunnies and then blackmailed your father. Somehow, that didn't seem to cover it. Dillon looked to Jamie, who seemed every bit as lost as he did. Ash was the only one of them who looked like he was still in control. He stood up and started towards the door, without ever even looking at the pictures.

Jamie stood, too. "Where are you going?"

"To take a whiz. Why, you wanna come hold it for me?"

Normally, Dillon would have laughed over such a smart-assed comment, but there was nothing funny about the flat, even tone Ash used when he said it. Dillon said, "You okay, man?"

Ash shrugged. "Sure. Why wouldn't I be? So I got fucked. So what? Won't be the last time."

Jamie reached out to him. "Ash, we'd understand if you weren't exactly okay with this. I mean--"

"Look, Walker, can this wait until I get back. Unless you want to come in there with me while I piss, it'll have to." He left before either one of them could say anything else.

Jamie collapsed back against the couch. Dillon held up his arm and Jamie scooted underneath until the two of them were pressed as tightly together as possible.

Dillon smoothed his fingers through Jamie's hair. "How you holding up?"

Jamie sighed and buried his face in Dillon's side. "I'm not crazy about the fact that my best friend was a blackmailer, or that he left me the money. God, who am I kidding? It makes me sick to my stomach." He turned his face back up to look at Dillon. "Want to know the worst part, though?"

"You know I do."

"The worst part is, it doesn't change anything. Even knowing what Ben did, I still care about him. I still see him the way he was with me. Does that make me a horrible person?"

"Nope. It makes you, you. Like I told you before, you're one of the most forgiving people I've ever met. You always see the good side of folks."

Jamie leaned back against Dillon's arm and closed his eyes. "I just hope Ash is able to move past all this. The way he looked just then scared the hell out of me." Jamie opened his eyes again and sat up. "Speaking of Ash, he's been gone a little too long to suit me. I'm gonna go check on him."

"Want me to go with you?"

"No, he'll just feel like we're ganging up on him. Where's the closest bathroom in this place?"

"Down the hall and to the left, I think."

"Gottcha." Jamie stood up, pausing just long enough to give Dillon a light peck on the lips. That Jamie was able to be affectionate in the middle of all this was a gift to Dillon. He only hoped Ash could find the same thing with someone. Someone who was actually able to love him back this time.

Jamie had been gone for less than a minute when Dillon heard him screaming. "Oh, God. Dillon, help me, please!"

Dillon was down the hall and to the bathroom in two seconds. Jamie was holding on to Ash's legs as Ash sagged like a rag doll from what looked like a belt lashed to the railing for the glass shower doors. Unfortunately, in keeping with the scale of the house, whoever designed the bathroom oversized the shower stall, making the top of the thick brass railing only about two feet shorter than the bathroom's nine foot ceiling. Jamie was doing his best to hold Ash up so he could breath, but he was staggering under Ash's weight. Dillon ran to help, taking Ash's body on himself. The stool Ash had used to stand on while he tethered the belt was still within reach. Jamie picked it up and stood on his tiptoes to unbuckle and untie the thick leather. The minute Ash was loose, Dillon lowered him to the floor and pulled the belt free of his neck. Ash was breathing, but barely. His pulse was almost nonexistent as Dillon whipped his cell phone out of his pocket and called nine-one-one. He prayed to God they got there in time.

# Brandon handed Jamie and Dillon each a cup of steaming coffee. They were the only three people in the waiting room of Chicago General's I.C.U. at the moment, and Jamie was grateful. He couldn't get the picture of Ash's limp body from his mind. He felt sick, and he felt responsible. If he hadn't given Ash that letter, none of this would have happened. His only consolation right now was that Ash was still alive, albeit barely. Well, that and the fact that Brandon wasn't questioning the story Dillon and Jamie had given him. At least, not yet anyway.

Brandon sat down across from Dillon and stretched his long legs in front of himself. "Okay, let's go through this one more time, just so I'll have it all straight in my head when I go back to the station to file my report. You say you went to see Ash because you had some papers that belonged to him and needed to give them back."

Jamie said, "Yes, sir," and felt the slight nudge from Dillon's knee. Since they were sitting side by side, Brandon didn't seem to notice it, but Jamie got the message, loud and clear. He knew Dillon wanted him to tell Brandon everything, but Jamie couldn't do it. Not until he knew what Ben was doing out on Tully Road that night. Not until he had a chance to get a few things settled in his mind.

Brandon took a sip of his coffee. "When you got there, did he seem anxious, depressed at all?"

Jamie played it off. "I don't really know Ash that well, Sheriff. Not well enough to judge his mood."

"Uh huh. And these papers you say you had of his, what were they, and how did you come to have them in your possession?" "I didn't read them, Sheriff." True enough. Dillon had read the letter out loud at Ash's request. "I'm not really sure why I ended up with them, but when I realized the papers belonged to Ash, Dillon and I took them over there."

Brandon narrowed his eyes. "So the fact that you were at Ashton Barnes's house the night he tried to off himself was just some stellar coincidence? Some cosmic mistake?"

"Oh, yeah. No doubt." Jamie wasn't lying in the least when he said that part. This whole thing was a mistake, from beginning to end. Jamie still loved Ben, loved the memory of him, but he was blown away by his first real glimpse of Ben's mercenary side. How could Ben be so loving with him, and so damned cold towards everyone else? It made no sense.

Brandon crossed his ankles. "Well, whatever the circumstances, Ashton is damned lucky you showed up when you did. What did he do, get up to go to the bathroom and then lash a belt to his neck while he was in there?"

Jamie shrugged. "I'm not sure what he was thinking." True again. He couldn't imagine what Ash must have been thinking. 

"What made you decide to go back to the bathroom to check on him? Did you have a reason to be worried about him?"

Jamie was this close to coming apart under the questioning. He was grateful when Dillon stepped in. "Actually, Jamie had to pee, Sheriff. He figured Ash would be finished. Speaking of Ash, how is he?" 

Brandon sighed. "I'm not sure. As soon as I got the call from the nine-one-one dispatcher about a possible attempted suicide--and found out who it was--I called my brother, Keith, who's a neurologist here on staff, and asked him to take the case. It's not unusual for me to request a specific doctor for a case, and Keith is one of the best. If anyone can put Ash back to rights, it's him."

"Wait a minute. What case? Ash hasn't committed a crime or anything."

Brandon made his voice sound as gentle as he could. "Jamie, he tried to commit suicide. That's not something to be taken lightly. If Ash does pull through, it's gonna be a while before he can go back home. He'll need to see a team of psychiatrists and counselors, and those guys will have to be satisfied that Ash won't try to kill himself again before they let him leave. Even then, he's gonna need therapy, maybe even medication."

Jamie rubbed his hands over his face. God, what a mess. Dillon leaned forward. "Here comes Keith."

Jamie looked up to see the eldest Nash brother coming down the hall. Keith Nash looked a lot like Brandon, dark haired and blue eyed, but there was no doubt which one was the doctor and which one was the sheriff. Keith just screamed bedside manner, while Brandon was the picture of a no-nonsense cop.

Brandon, Jamie, and Dillon all stood as Keith held out his hand to Jamie. "Keith Nash, brother to Megan and this lug right here, as well five assorted others."

Jamie shook his hand. "James Walker. Megan talks about you a lot."

Keith beamed. "Of course she does. I'm her favorite brother."

Brandon elbowed him in the ribs. "Quit clowning and tell us about Ash."

Keith eyed Jamie and Dillon. "Normally I'd only give this information to Ashton's next of kin." He looked to Bran. "Any luck getting in touch with his dad?"

"Not yet. I got through to the secretary at Barnes Securities, his dad's company. She said she'd try to reach him, but I have no idea when that will be."

Keith nodded. "Since these two saved Ashton's life, I'm sure his father won't mind if I bend the rules just this once. If he does, he can take it up with you." He grinned at Brandon.

Bran said, "Gee, thanks. Why don't we sit back down and then you can give us the update?"

The four of them chose their chairs, Keith and Bran facing Jamie and Dillon. Keith said, "From the E.M.T. report and your own statements, the best we can figure is that Ash was only without oxygen for two minutes, tops. That's a good thing. The M.R.I. shows no obvious signs of brain or spinal cord trauma, again, a good thing. His vital signs were faint and iffy when he came in here, but now they're steady and climbing, the third ball in our court." He shifted in his chair. "Now for the not so good. Ash is still not conscious, and we can't find an obvious cause. I'm guessing shock, but like I say, that's just speculation on my part. He's got a two-inch contusion encompassing the circumference of his neck, most noticeable in the front where the bulk of the force was exerted against his skin, and there's no doubt it'll leave a scar. A good plastic surgeon could probably decrease the appearance of the scar, but he'll always have a slight reminder of what he tried to do. That won't be his only reminder, either. Ashton's vocal cords were damaged. He'll be able to talk, but his voice will never sound the same. Even with all that, though, he's one lucky young man. Our goal now is to keep him from ever trying this again."

"I already explained to them about the observation and the counseling." Brandon stood up, stretching. "I'm gonna try one more time to light a fire under that secretary's butt, and then I'm off to the station to fill out a report." Bran clapped his brother on the back. "Keep me posted." He squeezed first Dillon and then Jamie on the shoulder. "You two call me if you need me, or if you think of anything else that might help Ash." The look he gave them let Jamie know that Brandon had no doubts they were hiding something. Thank God he wasn't pressing it. With one last goodbye to all three of them, Brandon left.

Keith stood as well, prompting Dillon and Jamie to rise to their feet. "I've got another critical patient upstairs, so I'm gonna go back up. Why don't the two of you head on home? It'll be hours before Ash wakes up, I'm guessing, and even then, you'll have to wait until he's moved out of I.C.U. before you can see him."

That sounded like a plan to Jamie. He was tired, tired of all the sickness and death, and tired of trying to reconcile his memories of Ben the friend with his knowledge of Ben the blackmailer. He felt Dillon take his hand and lead him towards the exit. Jamie was more than happy to go.

The elevator ride down to the parking garage was largely silent. It wasn't until they were halfway between floors nine and ten that Dillon said, "Are you so quiet because you're worried about Ash or because you're thinking about Ben and what he did?" Jamie grimaced. "A little of both, I guess. Well, that and I'm still trying to figure out what Ben was doing out on Tully Road when he'd promised to meet Ash at Tanner Textile."

Dillon leaned against the south wall of the elevator. "Maybe he just said that to get Ash off his back. Promising to meet somebody and then standing them up is a sure way to get that 'fuck off' vibe across to them."

Jamie shook his head. "I don't think so. Ben was way too direct for that. If he'd wanted to tell Ash to fuck off, he would have just said it. No, if Ben told Ash he was gonna meet him, he was planning on following through."

Dillon said, "Maybe," but Jamie could tell he had his doubts. After a few minutes of silence, Dillon picked back up with, "So, what's the plan?"

Jamie did his best to project the proverbial halo. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Come off it, Jamie. This is me you're talking to." The elevator doors opened to their floor just as he said it. Dillon took Jamie's hand and led him out. "I've known you too long for that to fly. You've always got some kind of plan. You're a whole lot like Megan on that score."

Jamie gave in. "All right. I'll tell you what I'm thinking, but you aren't gonna like it."

#

Just as Jamie predicted, Dillon didn't like what he was planning. Even so, Dillon was supportive and offered only minimal protest when they pulled up in front of the Reed County Jail the following Monday after school.

"You sure you want to do this?"

"I'm sure. The only person who might have seen anything that night--that we know of, anyway--was Barry Sledge. He's the last person ever to see Ben, and if Ben was up to something that night, Sledge might have seen it."

"Jamie, the guy's in jail for vehicular homicide. He hasn't even been sentenced yet. What makes you think he's gonna tell you anything?" Jamie reached for the door handle. "He may not say a single word to me, but I don't have anything to lose by trying. I'm hoping that if I approach him the right way and show him that I'm not any kind of a threat, he'll open up to me. That's one of the reasons I want to go in by myself. If you come with me, he might not say anything. One on one is better."

"I understand, but just be careful. And hurry. Keith sent word through Megan that we can see Ash this afternoon."

"He's awake, then?"

"Awake and in his own room." Dillon left the car running and leaned back in the seat. "I'll wait here for you." Jamie reached for the door handle just as Dillon said, "Hey, Jamie?"

"Yeah?"

"I . . ." He trailed off, and Jamie could tell he was measuring his words. Finally, he said, "I'm here if you need me."

Jamie leaned over and gave Dillon's lips a soft brush with his own. "I know that. Why do you think I've made it through this whole mess as well as I have?" He left before Dillon could say anything else.

The Reed County Jail wasn't a place Jamie wanted to become well acquainted with. Unlike the small cluster of holding cells attached to the sheriff's office, the county jail had the look of a prison, from the gray, peeling paint on the walls to the stands of metal detectors anchored in the lobby. In essence, it was a prison, the place where the most serious offenders were held over for trial, and where those serving less than a year did their time. After signing in, Jamie was led to the visitor's area, a row of glassed-in booths with phones on either side of the glass. The officer in charge instructed Jamie to have a seat at booth seven and wait. Jamie swallowed against the butterflies in his stomach and did as he was told.

Barry Sledge came out a few minutes later. Even with the orange jumpsuit and the cuffs encircling his wrists, Sledge didn't look like a killer. Jamie did his best to remember that this man was responsible for Ben's death, but one look at Sledge's pitted face and brown, sorrow-filled eyes had Jamie feeling pity for the man. Sledge sat down and picked up the phone, motioning for Jamie to do the same. Jamie picked up in time to hear Sledge say, "There must be a mistake here. I was told I had a visitor, but I don't know you." His voice was scratchy and strained, years of alcohol abuse having made its mark. 

Here goes. "Mr. Sledge, my name is James Walker, and I need to talk to you. I promise I'll make it quick." Jamie hesitated. "I'm a friend of Ben Lewis."

All the color drained from Sledge's normally ruddy face. He started to hang up the phone, but Jamie wasn't about to let that happen. "Wait, don't hang up. Please. I promise I'll make it quick, but this is important, and you're the only one I can ask."


Sledge hesitated but put the phone back to his ear, giving Jamie the window he needed to say, "I'm not here to talk about the accident, not really. I have reason to believe my friend was supposed to have been somewhere besides Tully Road that night. Since you were the last person to, uh . . . see him, I was hoping maybe you saw something--anything--that might help me figure out what he was doing out there."

Sledge looked around, making sure no one was standing behind him. Finally, he said, "Look, kid, all I can tell you is what I told the cops when they picked me up. I was driving home from Philly's Tavern when I saw this kid laying in the middle of the road. I tried to slow down, but he was wearing black and I didn't see him until it was too late. There wasn't anything I could do for him, so I split. I didn't see nothing or no one besides that."

Jamie's mind was reeling. "What do you mean Ben was 'laying in the middle of the road?'"

Sledge screwed up his face. "What are you, deaf? I meant just what I said. I was moving along Tully Road at a fair clip and all of a sudden, there was this kid, just laying there." Sledge snorted. "Not that the cops believed me. Thought I was lying just to save my own skin. That court-appointed, ass-wipe lawyer they assigned me swore up and down all the tests confirmed that kid very well could have died from the impact of my car. That's when I knew I couldn't get out of it, so I took the deal the D.A. offered and told em what they wanted to hear. Well, I got news for em: I wasn't lying. I may have hit that guy, but let me tell you something, Mr. James Walker, I didn't kill him. You want my opinion? That boy was dead before I ever came along." 

{TO BE CONTINUED}



The Way You Say My Name Ch. 10



“Jamie, the guy’s a drunk on his way to the pen for God knows how long. He’s bound to be lying to save his own ass.”

“Why now, though? He’s already taken the deal. He’s just waiting for the judge to impose sentence. What could he possibly have to gain by making up this story?”

Dillon waited until the doors closed and then pressed the button for the sixth floor. He did his best to reign in his temper, but he was mad as hell at Sledge for stringing Jamie along. Still, Dillon managed to sound halfway civil when he said, “Who knows why people lie? Maybe he’s one of those sick fucks who enjoys playing games with people’s heads. Or maybe he feels so guilty about offing Ben that he’s made up this thing about Ben already being dead just to make himself feel better. Who knows? I’ll tell you one thing, though. Brandon is gonna be pissed when he finds out you went to see the guy.”

The look on Jamie’s face made Dillon feel guilty, but he couldn’t help it. Jamie needed to understand that Sledge was lying. Dillon wanted this to end, for Jamie’s sake as well as his own.

The elevator doors opened, allowing them passage to the sixth floor of Chicago General. Just before they got off, Dillon raked his fingers across Jamie’s cheek. “You mad at me?”

Jamie moved slightly into Dillon’s hand. “No, I’m not mad at you. I know you’re only saying what you’re saying because you wanna help. Doesn’t mean I agree with you, but I know why you’re saying it.”

That was something, anyway. They walked off the elevator and searched for room six-eighteen, the number the volunteer at the visitor’s desk had given them. They found it without trouble and were just about to go inside when someone said, “Hang on for a second, boys.”

Dillon recognized Ash’s father from the handful of times he’d visited Ash. He’d always liked Mr. Barnes. The guy was friendly, if a little bit immature for a man his age. He was always jetting off, leaving Ash in the hands of housekeepers and nannies. It was just rotten luck that no one was on staff the night Ash tried to do himself in. Dillon’s parents might not be the best in the world, but at least they were always around. Attendance had to count for something. 

Ashton Barnes the Second looked nothing like his son. Ash was tall and dark-headed, where Mr. Barnes was medium height and blond. Mr. Barnes was wearing a white silk shirt and black tailored slacks, whereas Ash was jeans and t-shirts all the way. The only similarity at all was the eyes, and, even there, Ash’s eyes were a darker shade of brown than his father’s.

Dillon introduced Mr. Barnes to Jamie. After shaking hands with them both, Barnes said, “Listen, boys, there’s a private waiting area down the hall. Do you think we could go down there and talk?”

Dillon wanted to say no. He’d had enough of waiting rooms and private chats. He took one look at Mr. Barnes’s pleading face and heard himself saying yes just as Jamie said the same thing.

Once they were seated in the waiting room, Mr. Barnes said, “I don’t know how to thank the two of you enough for what you did.” He looked down at his hands where they lay trembling in his lap. “I know I wouldn’t win any father of the year awards, but I do love my son. I’d be lost if anything ever happened to him. When I think about what could have--” He broke off, his face strained with the effort of holding back his tears. Once composed, Barnes said, “I just thank God you were there.”

Jamie shook his head. “Mr. Barnes, you don’t understand. This whole thing was my fault to begin with.”

Dillon was about to protest when Barnes beat him to it. “You can just put that nonsense out of your head, James. I saw the letter, and the pictures. When he woke up, Ash told me everything, including the fact that Ben Lewis was the one who asked you to bring Ash that vile note in the first place. My son also tells me that you had no idea what was in the envelope when you took it to him.”

“That’s true. If I’d known, I never would have taken it over there.”

“I believe that, James, but in a way, I’m glad you did. I wish I’d been there when it happened, so that maybe all of this could have been prevented, but at least now Ash knows the truth about Ben. Maybe this will help him get on with his life and find a good man or woman to love. Someone capable of loving him back.”

Dillon was shocked. “You don’t mind that Ash is bisexual?”

“No, I don’t.” Mr. Barnes fiddled with his sleeve cuffs. “I can’t say that I’m happy, not because he’s bisexual, but because I know that bisexual people face prejudice from both the gay and straight communities alike. It isn’t like he has a choice, though, and I intend to stand by him, no matter what.”

Dillon never thought he’d have reason to envy Ash, but at that moment, he did. Why couldn’t his parents see it the way Mr. Barnes did? He shook himself out of it, just in time to hear Jamie say, “Mr. Barnes, about the money . . .”

“You mean the blackmail money?” Jamie nodded, and Barnes sighed. “I’m so sorry Ash had to find out about that. That’s the only reason I paid Lewis off, you know. I wasn’t worried about him outing Ash like he threatened. That I could handle. I knew, though, that Ash would be crushed when he found out Lewis was just using him. I wanted to protect Ash. I hoped if I paid Lewis off, Ash would never find out.”

Jamie nodded again. “I understand that, Sir, but see, the thing is, Ben left the money to me when he died.”

It was Mr. Barnes turn to look shocked. “You’re kidding.”

“No, Sir. Believe me, I wish I was.” Jamie rubbed his right hand across his face. “Mr. Barnes, that money belongs to you. I want you to have it back.”

“I don’t know what to say. That’s very generous of you, James, but you don’t have to do that. I owe you for saving my son’s life.”

“No, you don’t. To be honest, I wouldn’t feel right about keeping it now, no matter what. Knowing what Ben did, and where that money came from, changes everything.”

Mr. Barnes looked to Dillon. “Is he always this loyal and trustworthy?”

Dillon rubbed his leg against Jamie’s and grinned. “Always.”

Jamie steered the conversation back on topic. “The money is in a safe deposit box. If you’d like to meet me at the bank tomorrow after school, I can give it to you then. I’m not sure how much of it Ben spent, but I do know there’s about forty-two-thousand dollars left.”

“Forty-two-thousand? I’m sorry, James, but you must have miscounted.”

“Like I said, Sir, Ben may have spent some of it--”

Mr. Barnes shook his head. “You misunderstand me, son. I wasn’t trying to say that any money was missing. In fact, just the opposite. I paid Ben one lump sum of twenty-thousand--even. That means there’s twenty-two thousand extra in that box.”

#

Jamie and Dillon stood outside the door to Ash’s room. Jamie hoped he’d washed the confusion off his face so Ash couldn’t see it. The last thing Ash needed right now was to be dragged back into this mess.

Dillon knocked on the door. They heard a weak, gravely “Come in,” and entered the room.

Ash was lying in bed wearing a hospital gown and a manufactured smile. He looked like pure hell, but he was alive, and that’s all Jamie cared about. Ash had been victimized by Ben, and for some reason, Jamie felt responsible. If he’d been able to love Ben back, maybe Ash never would have been involved.

Ash broke him out of his morbid thoughts. He motioned to a couple of bedside chairs. “Sit down.”

Dillon took the chair closest to the wall, leaving Jamie to sit directly facing Ash. Jamie had a feeling Dillon had done that on purpose, and Jamie couldn’t fault him. He and Ash needed to talk.

Ash must have had the same idea, because he said, “Dillon, I know I owe you both, but, um . . . do you think I could talk to James alone for a sec?”

Dillon nodded. “I think I’ll run down and get something to drink. You guys want anything?”

Ash managed a laugh. The sound coming through his injured throat reminded Jamie of the scrape of metal against concrete. “ I don’t want anything, thanks. They’re pumping me so full of fluids now I feel like I’m gonna pop.”

“Nothing for me, either, Dillon.”

“I’ll be back in a few, then.” Dillon pulled the door closed as he left.

There was an awkward moment of silence while Ash searched for what he wanted to say, and Jamie waited. After staring down at his hands for a full three minutes, Ash looked up and said, “I’m sorry.”

“Look, Ash, you don’t have to--”

“Please, James. It hurts to talk, so just let me get it out.” Jamie nodded as Ash continued. “I have a whole lot to apologize to you for, from that stupid showdown in the hall, to the way I acted at the church, to trying to kill myself while you and Dillon were in the next room. For what it’s worth, I only tried that at the church because I wanted to know what it was Ben saw in you. I wondered what you had that I didn’t. I guess I thought if I could try you out for myself, I might see it, and then it wouldn’t hurt so bad. Pretty stupid considering the only thing Ben ever actually saw in me was a pay-off.”

“Yeah, well, I loved Ben, and I don’t imagine I’ll ever stop missing him, but in this case, he was an idiot. He could have had something real with you, Ash. It’s not your fault he didn’t seize the opportunity.”

Ash leaned further back into the pillows. “Maybe one day that will matter to me, but right now I can’t really see it that way, ya know?”

“Yeah, I do. I spent a whole two years wondering what was wrong with me, why I couldn’t have the one guy I really wanted. It took me a while, but I finally figured out it was him, not me.”

“That guy, was it Carver?”

“One and the same.”

“And now you and him have the real thing?”

“I think so. That’s what we’re working towards, anyway.” Jamie leaned forward and put one cautious hand on Ash’s arm. “And just because Ben wasn’t it for you, that doesn’t mean there isn’t a guy out there just waiting for you to find him. But, Ash, you’ve got to stay alive to find that, man.”

Ash closed his eyes. “I know. It just hurt so bad. I felt so, I don’t know, lost, I guess. The sheriff’s brother recommended a shrink here at the hospital who’s helping me work through it all. Dr. Carson said as long as I keep all my therapy appointments and submit to an evaluation every month, I can probably go home in a couple of weeks.”

“Cool.” Jamie hesitated. “What about school?”

Ash closed his eyes. “You know, huh?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, man. You may not believe this, but Dillon and I didn’t tell anybody.”

Ash opened his eyes, and the look he gave Jamie was pure sincerity. “I know you didn’t, James. I never even thought that.”

“So, how--”

“How do I think the fact that I’m gay and had a flaming affair with Ben got plastered all over the school?” Ash shrugged. “Who knows? Chad came rushing in here this morning, yelling at me, wanting to know when I turned ‘fag’ on him.” Ash snorted. “Like this is something I did to him. I tried to explain to him that I was pretty much bi, but he didn’t wanna hear it. He left without ever telling me where he heard it, but I gathered it had gotten around, somehow. To be honest with you, I don’t really care, not anymore. So, I’m out. So what? What am I gonna do, kill myself over it? You see how well that worked out the last time.” He pointed to the bandage encompassing his throat. “Believe me when I say I won’t be trying that again.”

Jamie gave Ash’s arm a squeeze before withdrawing his hand. “When can you go back to class?”

“Actually, I won’t have to. Morgan came to see my dad this morning, not long after Chad left. Told him I have enough credits to graduate. My college acceptance is already in, so all I have to do now is wait it out until fall.” He lowered his eyes. “I’m glad I’m not gonna have to face those guys. I’m not worried that they know about me and Ben, but I hate the way people look at you when they know you’ve tried to commit suicide. It’s like they’re just waiting for you to freak out and try it again. I’ve seen enough of that from the few people who’ve visited me. You and Dillon are the first visitors I’ve had who haven’t made me feel like a charity case.” 

Jamie nodded. “They look at you the same way when they find out you don’t have parents. A person can only stomach so much pity before he feels like he’s gonna hurl. I understand how you feel.”

Ash smiled, a real smile this time. “I believe you do, James. I really believe you do.”

#

Jamie had only been home for twenty-minutes when the phone rang. It couldn’t be Dillon, because he’d just dropped Jamie off on his way in to work. Jamie was tired, and nursing a headache. He hoped the caller would just go away, but after the sixth ring, he gave in. Reminding himself to set the answering machine to take over after the fourth ring next time, Jamie picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Wanna tell me what in the hell you were doing down at the county jail talking to Barry Sledge?”

“Well hello to you, too, Sheriff. Great to hear from you.”

“Don’t dick around with me, Jamie.” Brandon’s voice was hard, but even agitated, Jamie could tell Brandon held no real malice against him. His next words proved his only motivation was concern. “You have no business rubbing elbows with people like Sledge. Haven’t you been hurt enough?”

If Bran was mad about Jamie visiting the jail, he was gonna hate this next part. “I know you’re not happy about me meeting with Sledge, but he said some stuff I think you need to hear.” Jamie took a deep breath. “He said he was pretty sure that Ben was already dead when he hit him.”

“Uh-huh. And did he also tell you that Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy were all planning a coup to break him out of jail, too, because that scenario is just as likely as the one Sledge is trying to sell you.”

Jamie could feel himself getting angry. “So you aren’t even gonna look into it? Ben’s death doesn’t mean enough to you?”

Brandon’s sign reverberated through the phone. “Jamie, I understand how much you want to believe that Ben’s death was something other than it was. You want it to mean something, but the truth is, it was just another meaningless tragedy. Sledge may spin a pretty good yarn, but he left out a few details.”

“Such as?”

“Did he tell you that the autopsy results proved that Ben died with injuries consistent to those sustained by a high velocity impact, such as a motor vehicle?”

Jamie could feel the wind draining out of his sails. “Uh, no, he didn’t.”

“Big shocker there. I guess he also forgot to mention that my men investigated his claim the second he told us and found no evidence whatsoever to back up his story. Oh, and I suppose he neglected to mention that at least seven people at Philly’s Tavern saw him down enough beer and whiskey to intoxicate a third-world country.”

Brandon might be right about Sledge, but he didn’t know about the blackmail, either. Jamie intended to keep it that way, at least until he found out about the other half of the money. If Ben had another innocent victim out there, the last thing Jamie wanted to do was put another man through the hell Ash had suffered. Forcing out the words, Jamie said, “I’m sorry, Sheriff. I guess I wasn’t thinking.”

Brandon’s voice softened, and Jamie felt even guiltier than he already did when Brandon said, “The only thing you have to apologize for is calling me Sheriff. We’re friends, so it’s Brandon or Bran to you. As for wanting to believe Sledge, I understand it. Just talk to me first next time, okay?”

“I will.”

“Good. Stay out of trouble, squirt.”

The minute Jamie heard the click, he disconnected and began to massage his throbbing temples. He had to find out who Ben’s second victim was. He fell asleep at the kitchen table with his head propped on his arms, still wondering how in the hell he was gonna pull that one off.

#

Dillon was one of the few guys he knew who actually enjoyed his job, even though it consisted mostly of stocking shelves and cleaning the store. He’d been working for Jim Pembroke, pharmacist and general manager of Savings Central Drugs, since he was fifteen and old enough to get a work permit. Jim was easy to work for, treating his employees like real people and not a bunch of robot workers. He paid even his teenage crew well above minimum wage, making Savings Central one of the most sought after places to work by the high school set.

Still, Dillon was grateful when his shift ended. He’d been distracted all night, worrying about Jamie and his single-minded search for answers regarding Ben’s death. Dillon could strangle Barry Sledge for feeding Jamie that story about Ben having already been dead. Dillon didn’t know what kind of sick game Sledge was playing, but he intended to find out.

He was so caught up in his thinking as he walked out into the lamp-lit parking lot and towards his car, he didn’t see his mother until he all but knocked her down.

“Damn. I’m sorry, buddy.” Realizing who it was, Dillon said, “Uh, sorry, Mom.” He pulled his thick coat tighter to his body, the sudden chill he felt having little to do with the freezing weather. “What are you doing out here?”

Angela Carver was so thickly encompassed by her down jacket and her wool scarf and hat, Dillon could barely see her face, but he heard her voice loud and clear. “I came to talk some sense into you, Dillon. I want you to come back home, son.”

Uh huh. Sure she did. Dillon eyed her with pure suspicion. “Let me guess. All I have to do is give up Jamie and agree to go to that gay-deprogrammer you and Dad want me to see.” Dillon shook his head with disgust and started walking to his car.

Angela was with him, step for step. “It’s not an unreasonable request, Dillon. Your dad and I only want what’s best for you. This depravity will eat away at your soul.” Her voice quivered. Angela was better than anyone Dillon knew at trotting out the tears on command. “I can’t stand to be separated from you, Dillon. I miss you.”

Dillon turned to face his mother at the same time as his hand settled on the Lumina’s door handle. “Being gay is part of who I am, Mother. There’s nothing depraved or perverted about being the way God made me.”

Righteous indignation replaced the tears in Angela’s voice with fiery anger. “Homosexuality is an abomination in the sight of the Lord. Living as you’ve chosen to live, you aren’t fit to call on His name. Don’t you dare bring God into this.”

It was Dillon’s turn to get mad, and he did so with a vengeance. “You’re the one who shouldn’t bring God into this, at least not until you’ve gotten your facts straight. The only place in the Bible that even says that about homosexuality is the Old Testament, back in Leviticus or some place. That same book says you’ll go to Hell for eating pork and shellfish. Remember that the next time you make your famous pork loin roast or cozy up to the all you-can-eat crab leg special at Harry’s House of Seafood.”


Angela stepped back, giving Dillon enough room to open his car door. She may have stepped back, but she wasn’t done, not by a long shot. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Dillon.”

“The hell I don’t. You know who never said one word against homosexuals, Mom? Jesus. You know who He did warn against?” Not giving her a chance to answer, Dillon said, “Jesus warned against narrow minded bigots who pass judgment on other people, trying to substitute their own narrow-minded bullshit for God’s word. Jesus also said that most of these ‘reformers’ are dirtier than the so-called sinners they’re trying to save. Maybe you need to clean out your own damn closet before you start trying to stuff me back into mine.”

Stunned would be an apt description for Angela at that moment. “You’ve been studying this?”

Dillon slid into the driver’s seat of his car, turning his face up to his mother. “Studying? You have no idea how much I’ve studied, how much I’ve read. I didn’t choose to be gay, but I do choose to know as much about it as I can.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys. “A guy never knows when some half-crazed homophobe is gonna try to convert him. Anybody who would give up a tenure teaching job just because the principal she works for refuses to help have her son committed to a mental institution has gotta be some kind of nut.”




The Way You Say My Name Ch. 10



Angela’s face hardened. “Call me whatever you like, but until Dan Morgan changes his policies, I refuse to even try to go back to that school. I can see that we aren’t going to get anywhere like this. Just remember that I tried to help you, son. Whatever happens next, you brought it on yourself.”

Dillon slammed his door shut and drove off, having no idea what his mom was talking about. All Dillon knew was the he was scared to death to find out.

#

By Friday afternoon, Dillon had reached his limit. As if worrying about what his parents were planning to do to him wasn’t enough, Jamie’s crusade to find answers about Ben had him scared to death Jamie was gonna do something crazy. Visiting Sledge in jail was bad enough, but there was just no telling how far Jamie would go to find out where the rest of that money came from and to decipher what Ben was doing out on Tully Road that night. At least Mr. Barnes had taken back the twenty-thousand dollars he’d given to Ben. That one act had eased Jamie’s mind a little, but it did nothing to stop his self-appointed quest. Dillon was tempted to call in sick for work just so he could keep an eye on him, but Jamie wouldn’t have it.

They were standing in the hall, just after the last bell. “You don’t have to baby-sit me, Dillon. I’m not planning on doing anything tonight except sitting at home with my aunt.”

That was the point. Jamie wasn’t planning on doing anything, but ninety-percent of the insane things people did were unplanned. A plan. That’s what Dillon needed. When his mind finally settled on a course of action, Dillon breathed a sigh of relief. Jamie might not like it, but once Dillon made the necessary arrangements, he’d at least be able to go to work without worrying. For the first time that day, Dillon actually smiled.

#

Jamie wasn’t surprised to see Megan standing on his doorstep at four o’clock that afternoon. He might not be surprised, but he didn’t have to like it, either. “Damn it, he called you to play watchdog, didn’t he?”

If Megan was put off by Jamie’s burst of temper, she didn’t show it. “If by he you mean Dillon, then yes, he did.” Jamie started huffing again, and Megan had the nerve to laugh. “Oh goody, a real live gay snit. Get over yourself, Jamie. You and I are gonna have a nice long visit until Dillon gets off work, and then, since it’s Friday night, he’ll probably come over here and the two of you can suck face and various other body parts.”

That part sounded okay, but it rankled that Dillon thought Jamie needed a keeper. Still, he had to admit, it was nice to have some company. Aunt Sadie wouldn’t be home from the library for another couple of hours, and Jamie was sort of lonesome by himself. Not that he would tell any of that to Dillon the next time he saw him. Nope, Dillon was destined to catch at least a little bit of hell.

Giving in, Jamie said, “You hungry?”

“Depends on what you’ve got in there.”

Jamie grinned. “Leftover lasagna okay?”

“Now you’re speaking my language. Lead the way, oh kind and gracious host.”

Jamie led Megan into the kitchen and instructed her to sit down while he pulled the lasagna out of the fridge. Putting a huge pile of the stuff on a plate, Jamie slid it into the microwave. Before long the heavenly smell of pasta, marinara sauce, and melted cheese filled the kitchen.

Megan sighed in rapture. “There ought to be a law against anything smelling so good. I feel sorry for Dillon and Heath, eating out of cans and boxes all the time.”

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

Megan propped her size five feet on an empty chair. “You can ask me anything you want. Doesn’t mean I’ll answer it, but you can always ask.”

“You know Heath’s got a thing for you, right?”

Megan snorted. “Sure he does. That’s why he avoids me like the black plague.”

Jamie was shocked. “Heath does that?”

“Yep. When he did Fireman’s Week at The Boys and Girls Club, Heath and I were actually working towards a friendship. At least I thought we were, anyway. Even when Dillon moved in with him, he and I were able to talk, you know, kid around. We got along great. Then I kissed him and all that went up in flames.”

The microwave dinged, but Jamie couldn’t tear his eyes away from Megan long enough to take the lasagna out. “You kissed him? When?”

Megan actually blushed. “The day after Ben’s memorial service. Heath came over to thank Mom and me for cleaning his apartment. As he was leaving, I walked him out to his truck, and he gave me a hug. I looked up, he looked down, and before I knew it, total lip-lock.”

“So, how was it?”

The dreamy look on her face would have been sappy on anyone else, but on Megan it just looked cute. “It was perfect. Talk about fireworks. That boy has the softest lips. Incredible doesn’t even cover it.” She scrunched her brows together. “At least it was until he freaked out on me. One minute he had his tongue down my throat and the next minute he was hollering about how I’m too young for him and how he’s not ready to make a commitment. It was one kiss, for heaven’s sake. It’s not like I asked him to father my children.”

Jamie nodded in sympathy as he took the plate out of the microwave. “Sorry, Megan. Wish I could help, but I’m not exactly batting a thousand in the romance department myself.”

It was Megan’s turn to be shocked. “I thought you and Dillon were doing great.”

“We are but . . . we, um, fooled around a little bit, that night we went to Chicago to the theater.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“Yeah, but the thing is, he hasn’t touched me since then. Well, not really anyway. I mean we kiss and stuff, which is great, but I thought sure he’d want to, well--”

“Fuck you till your eyes crossed?”

“Megan! God, do you have to be so blunt?”

Megan wasn’t even close to being remorseful. “Yep. My Grandmother says, ‘Life is short. Why waste time beating around the bush? Say what you gotta say and get it over with.’” Megan smiled as Jamie brought the lasagna plate and two forks to the table. He went back to fetch a couple of Cokes from the fridge, ignoring Megan’s offers of help. She waited until Jamie was seated, then stuck her fork into the warm, gooey dish and brought it to her lips, savoring it like a last meal. Washing her food down with a healthy swig of coke, Megan said, “Since you’re feeding me, I’m gonna give you some inside information, but if you tell Dillon I told you, I’ll deny every word. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Jamie, Dillon told me what happened at the theater.”

Jamie turned bright red, but Megan laughed it away. “He and I are friends. He tells me the stuff he can’t talk to you about. Anyway, he loved every minute of it, but now he’s afraid.”

Jamie couldn’t believe it. “Of me?”

“No, not of you. Not really, anyway. He’s afraid if he rushes you into sex, you’ll think he’s just using you again.”

“Doesn’t he know that I trust him?”

“Knowing in his head and believing it in his heart are two different things. No, if you want to get Dillon out of those tight drawers of his, you’re gonna have to make the first move.” Megan grinned. “Don’t look so nervous. I’ve actually got something out in my car that might help you along a little bit. I was gonna give it to Dillon, but since it looks like you’re gonna have to get things started between you two, I’ll give it to you instead. Just remind me to give it to you before I leave.” 

Jamie poked around the lasagna with his fork. It made sense, but Jamie wasn’t sure what to do with that information. He’d never even thought about seducing anyone. In the past, Dillon had always made the first move. Knowing he was gonna have to do it scared the heck out of Jamie, not to mention the fact that he was worried as hell about what Megan might have in her car. Meggie was a sweet girl, but some of her ideas were a bit, um . . . warped. Rather than think about the situation with Dillon, Jamie changed the subject. “Dillon and I went to see Ash yesterday.”

“Poor guy. He’s lucky you and Dillon found him when you did.” Megan scooped up another forkful of pasta. “I gather the rumors are true, then. He really did try to kill himself because he was having an affair with Ben Lewis. I’m assuming you guys went over there to give him Ben’s letter?”

Uh oh. “Yep.”

“What did it say?”

Jamie adored Megan, and he hated keeping secrets from him, but this was Ash’s secret, not his. Keeping his voice neutral, Jamie shrugged. “You know. The usual stuff.” Usual when your boyfriend was blackmailing your father, that is. Damn. The blackmail. Megan didn’t know about that either. Damn, damn, damn.

Megan swallowed another mouthful of food. “Poor Ash must have really been in love with Ben to want to kill himself over the guy. Especially with Ben’s past.” 

Ben’s past. That was it. For the second time in as many weeks, Jamie had one of those instant zaps of understanding. If Burke Carpenter, Ben’s former foster father/pimp, taught Ben everything he knew, Burke might be able to tell him something--anything--that would help Jamie ferret out the identity of Ben’s second victim. Not that he probably would. Burke was just as likely to tell Jamie to go to hell, but as with Sledge, Jamie figured he had nothing to lose by trying. He got up from the table so fast he nearly knocked his chair over. “Megan, I have to go.”

Megan pointed to the half-full plate. “Now? You’re not even done eating yet.”

“I . . . uh, something’s come up. I have to catch a cab to Chicago.”

Megan narrowed her eyes. “This has something to do with that Sledge guy saying Ben was already dead, doesn’t it?”

“Dillon told you about that?” Jamie smacked his forehead. “Wait a minute. Of course he did. Yes, it does, but I can’t tell you what it is.”

To her credit, Megan didn’t push. “I understand. But I promised Dillon I’d do my best to talk you out of doing anything risky.”

“And I won’t. I promise.” Jamie the phone book from the counter and started flipping through the pages, looking for the number to Reed’s only cab company. Standing up and striding across the room with all the grace of a queen, Megan laid her hand across the top of the phone book. “Jamie, tell me who it is you have to see in Chicago.”

At least in this, Jamie could be honest. “Megan, Ben was a hustler before he came to Reed.”

“You mean he was a prostitute?”

“’Fraid so. And like you said, to find out what all I can about Ben, I need to talk to some of the people from his past. Who better to talk to than the guy who, for all intents and purposes, was his pimp?”

“You’re going to Chicago to talk to the guy who whored Ben out?”

Jamie’s voice was gentle but firm. “Yes, I am.”

Megan took the phone book out of Jamie’s hands, closed it, and then placed it back on the counter.

“I mean it, Megan. I’m going.”

“I heard you the first time, Jamie, but there is no way you’re taking a cab to Chicago this evening.” Megan pulled her keys out of the front pocket of her jeans. “If you have to go, I’m gonna drive you.”

# 

Who’d have thought a pimp would be listed with directory assistance? Jamie had been afraid finding Burke would be a hassle, but all it took was a quick call to four-one-one. Megan wanted to call the number listed, but Jamie refused. No one was he gonna warn Burke they were coming. With any luck, they’d zip through the thirty minute drive to Chicago, have a quick word with “good ole Burke,” as Ben had called him, and then be back in Reed before Dillon ever noticed they were gone.

Yep, it had all sounded so easy when he and Megan planned it out. Jamie should have known better. The minute he saw the yellow crime-scene tape attached to the brick pillars on either side of the driveway of the address the operator had given them, Jamie knew they were in trouble.

Megan double checked the driving directions she’d pulled from the internet. “Maybe this is the wrong house.”

Jamie shook his head. “I don’t think so. Pull over there, by the curb.”

“Why? There’s tape all over the place. We’re not supposed to go in there.”

Jamie did his best not to give her one of those “duh” looks. “We’re not supposed to be in Chicago hunting down a kiddy pimp, either, Meggie. Park the car, and I’ll get out and look around for a sec, then we’ll jet.”

Megan pulled her car to the nearest curb. “I’m going with you.”

“Meggie--”

“Look, Jamie, we’re not supposed to be here. We’ve already established that. Do you really want to waste more time here on an argument you know you aren’t gonna win, anyway?”

The woman did know how to make a point. Jamie got out and leaned against the car, waiting for Megan to come around to his side. While he waited, he took a second to study the house. It was one of those old Victorian Italianate designs. As a would-be-architect, Jamie could appreciate the bold elements of the house--of the entire neighborhood, for that matter. Burke’s neighborhood was one of those luxurious, well-maintained clusters of old homes only the truly wealthy could afford to keep up. Not exactly what Jamie expected. The place--with its elegant box shape and tan brick exterior--might have appealed to Jamie on a design level, but knowing what the house had been used for left him cold. He wanted to talk to Burke and then get the heck out of there.

As soon as Megan joined him on the other side of the car, the two of them made their way around the pillars and tape, walking up into the yard proper. Even in the dying light of late afternoon, Jamie could see how well manicured and tended the grass was. He could almost close his eyes and see Ben or one of Burke’s other boys coming home after a hard day of whoring and mowing the lawn. He thanked God he’d had Aunt Sadie to take him in when his mom ditched him. If not, Jamie could have just as easily become prey to Burke or someone like him. 

The main house was dark, and the deep porch’s arched openings were screened off with more of the bright yellow tape. Even in the shadows of the porch, Jamie could see deep red stains on the concrete floor he felt certain had to be blood. He turned to face Megan, and, seeing his own fear reflected on her face said, “I don’t see any sign of Burke Carpenter. Maybe we should go.”

Megan raised her hand to point at something behind Jamie’s back just as a massive hand clamped down on his shoulder. A deep, scratchy voice said. “And you won’t see any sign of him. Burke Carpenter is dead. And, as for leaving, you aren’t going anywhere.”

{To Be Continued} 



The Way You Say My Name Ch. 11



Dillon looked at the storeroom clock for the second time in as many minutes. Eight o’clock, at least another hour before he could see Jamie. It wasn’t that Dillon minded working until closing. He’d done it more times than he could count. Still, Dillon couldn’t remember ever being this anxious to leave before. He wanted to be with Jamie so bad he could taste it. It was a raging need, a burning he couldn’t explain. Like if he didn’t see Jamie soon, Dillon wasn’t gonna make it. God, he had it bad. At least he didn’t have to worry about Jamie, not while Megan was there with him, anyway. Jamie might not be too happy about the situation, but he was safe, and that’s all Dillon could ask for. Megan was a bit outrageous at times, but she had a level head on her shoulders. So did Jamie, for that matter, but he also had a glaring blind spot where Ben was concerned. A blind spot that prompted him to do things he wouldn’t normally do. No, Dillon had done the only thing he could think of by asking Megan to stay with Jamie. He only hoped Jamie wouldn’t be mad at him. He was still thinking about it when Jim Pembroke stuck his head through the stockroom door.

 “Dillon, you’ve got a phone call on line four.”

 “Thanks Mr. P. I’ll pick up back here.”

 As soon as Mr. Pembroke left, Dillon grabbed the receiver of the employee extension, the one located directly underneath the time clock. “Hello?”

 “You know, kid, I’m not sure which one has less sense: your boyfriend, or my sister. If you ask me, neither one of ‘em could find his or her way out of a round room with no damn corners.”

 The minute he heard Brandon’s voice, Dillon’s heart settled somewhere in the vicinity of his stomach. “What happened, Bran?”

 “Oh, not much. Well, not unless you count Jamie and Megan being picked up in front of a dead man’s house by the Chicago P.D. A dead man, I might add, who was the prime suspect in an ongoing child pornography/prostitution ring. A dead man who was murdered in cold blood not three feet from his own front door.”

 Bran had to be talking about Burke. Jamie and Megan had gone to see Ben’s pimp. Wait a minute. Burke was dead? No. Dillon couldn’t even think about that right now. First he had to know that Jamie and Megan were okay. Dillon sank down onto a nearby stack of plastic packing crates. “They were arrested? Are they okay?”

 Dillon could hear Brandon drawing in a deep breath. “They weren’t arrested, though not for lack of trying. They were caught snooping around the deceased’s residence. That was after they crossed enough crime-scene tape and no trespassing signs to wallpaper an entire house. A cop spotted them hanging around the place, and ended up calling the lead detective working the investigation. It just so happens that I know the guy who’s handling the case. He used to work for the force here in Reed, a man by the name of Hank Kilgore. Since the man’s killer is still at large, Detective Kilgore thought a couple of kids snooping around the guy’s house was more than a little bit suspicious. That’s why he hauled them in. Kilgore’s a good guy, and he recognized the Nash name the minute he ran Megan’s I.D. He called me, and asked me to vouch for them both. I managed to convince him that Jamie and Megan had nothing to do with the murder, but I couldn’t very well tell Kilgore what they were really doing at that house because I don’t have a freakin’ clue what the two of them were trying to prove. By the way, did you know that Jamie doesn’t have a driver’s license?” 

 Dillon nodded, then realized Brandon couldn’t see him over the phone. God, he was rattled, and not just from Brandon’s sudden shift in topic. “I know he doesn’t.”

 “Yeah, well, you need to work on that. Not only does a boy his age need to know how to drive, but he doesn’t have any picture I.D. All he had on him was his social security card and a credit card his aunt had given him. Since Sadie Banks was listed as the co-holder of the card, Kilgore very well could have called her. You’re just lucky he called me first and not Sadie. I talked Kilgore out of calling her by telling him I would handle it myself. The point is, Jamie needs I.D. I guess he could get one of those non-driver cards with just his picture and personal information on it, but he really does need to know how to drive.” Brandon paused. “I suppose I could teach him, if he wanted me to.”

 Dillon was stunned. “You aren’t mad at him?”

 Brandon sighed. “Look, Dillon, I’m not gonna lie and say I’m happy about whatever it is that Jamie’s got going on. Hell, I know he’s hiding something, and this latest caper of his just proves it. I’m also more than a little ticked that Megan got involved in this mess, but I also know my sister, and I know there was no way Jamie could talk her out of sticking her pug-nose into his business. I do know, from what Detective Kilgore told me, that the dead man is none other than Mr. Burke Carpenter, Ben Lewis’s last foster father.”

 Dillon closed his eyes. “You know about Burke?” 

 “I know that the Chicago force has been trying for years to shut the guy down because of suspected sex trafficking involving teenage boys, but I also know that no one’s been able to prove anything. Apparently, Carpenter was well connected enough to keep his fostering program going with only token protest from a handful of concerned citizens. I knew that Burke was Ben’s last foster father because I read Ben’s record from cover to cover when the poor kid was killed. I searched every inch of that report, Dillon. That’s why there isn’t a doubt in my mind that Ben’s death was an accident.” Brandon snorted. “Fat chance of me ever convincing Jamie of that, though. He’s on some bizarre crusade about Ben. Going to visit Barry Sledge in jail was bad enough, but when Jamie starts seeking out professional scumbags like Carpenter, he’s screwing around with things he doesn’t understand. Carpenter was shot six times at point blank range with a three-fifty-seven magnum revolver. The perp used hollow-point bullets that ripped the hell out of the body.”

 “What does that have to do with Jamie?”

 “Nothing, directly. But here’s the thing. I was a profiler with the F.B.I. before I came back to Reed and ran for sheriff. One of the first things I was taught was to guess a killer’s motivation. The police took thirty-thousand in cash out of Carpenter’s house at the same time as they took the body. That rules out robbery. Given Carpenter’s character, you’d think self-defense could have been a factor, but considering Carpenter was killed on his own front porch with his keys in one hand and a bag of groceries in the other, it looks like the shooter lay in wait for him and caught him by surprise on his way home from the store. Not exactly the act of someone fighting for his life. A hired killer would have fired one bullet--two at the most--straight to the head or the heart, just enough to get the job done without the added risk of extra shots to draw attention. That takes care of the professional hit theory and leaves one motive left.”

 “What’s that?”

 Brandon’s next words made Dillon’s blood run cold. “Revenge. The person who killed Burke was mad as hell. There’s no way he’d have emptied that gun into Carpenter’s body, otherwise. Hell, the first shot probably killed the guy. No, that was rage taking over. And a guy who has enough hatred inside himself to lay in wait for a man and turn him into hamburger on his own doorstep wouldn’t hesitate to take out Jamie and my sister if he thought the two of them were getting even remotely close to finding out who he is.” Brandon’s voice lost all traces of rancor. “The reason I’m telling you all this, Dillon, is because I care about you and Jamie. Even though I haven’t told you anything that isn’t a matter of public record, I wouldn’t waste my breath explaining all this if I didn’t believe there was a real risk involved. I care too much to stand back and let you guys get hurt. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect the two of you, same as I would with Megan. I want you and Jamie to have a long and happy life together.” Another pause. “That’s assuming you want to spend the rest of your life with Jamie.”

 Dillon had spent the last two years dreaming about nothing else. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he wanted Jamie--and nobody but Jamie--from now on. He’d heard more than one person say that eighteen was too young to make that kind of commitment, but Dillon could care less. He knew his own mind and heart better than anyone else ever could. The only feelings Dillon was unsure about were Jamie’s. Did Jamie want him, and nothing but him, till death do them part? After all they’d been through, Dillon was half-afraid to know the answer. He couldn’t bring himself to voice those concerns to Brandon, though, so instead he simply said, “Yes, I do.”

 Dillon didn’t see the trap coming until it was sprung. Brandon’s voice was laced with smug satisfaction. “Good. Then you can drive over to Chicago and pick him up yourself. Grab my sister, too, while you’re at it. I’ve already squared things with Detective Kilgore, so nobody’s gonna have to sign a custody release for this one. Seems Jamie and Megan fed him some cock-and-bull story about wanting to know more about Ben’s life before he came to Reed. What ever it was they told him, Kilgore bought it. He’s agreed to let this little incident go as long as Jamie and Megan agree to stay away from his investigation. Yeah, right. Anyway, just swing by the station and I’ll give you directions on how to get to the precinct where they’re being held.”

 Damn. “You set me up.”

 Brandon snickered. “You can blame Nate for that. It was his idea for you to pick them up.”

 Dillon rubbed his forehead. “I’m confused. Why can’t Megan just drive them both back to Reed herself?”

 “Because, even though they weren’t officially arrested, Megan’s car was impounded for being illegally parked in front of Carpenter’s house. She doesn’t have the cash on her to bail it out, so I’ll give you the money when you come by to get the directions and we’ll kill two birds with one stone. Actually, I was all set to go over there and get them myself, but Nate felt sure I’d cause a big scene. I swear, my own husband has no faith in me. Since Jamie is your responsibility now, Nate thought sure you’d wanna do it.”

 “He was right. I’ll be at your office as soon as I square things with my boss.” Dillon hesitated. “Hey, Bran?”

 “If you’re gonna thank me, kid, you might want to save it. Just because I’m not going to pick them up tonight doesn’t mean I don’t have a thing or two to say to Jamie and Megan about this little misadventure of theirs. This isn’t the amateur detective hour, and I’ll be damned if Jamie isn’t gonna get that through his thick skull even if I have to pound it in there.”

 Dillon actually smiled. “That, I don’t doubt. But I do want to thank you. For everything.” 

 “Yeah, yeah. You’re welcome. Now go get your guy before some sex starved jailbird decides to make Jamie his bitch. Knowing my sister, she’d want to watch.”

 Dillon disconnected with that rather disturbing picture in his head. The first thing he did after he got off the phone was seek out Jim Pembroke. He found him up front, talking to one of the pharmacists.

 “Hey, Mr. P., can I talk to you for a sec?”

 “Sure, Dillon.” Jim nodded to the pharmacist and motioned Dillon towards his office. “We can talk in here, if that’s okay with you.”

 “Yes, sir. That’d be great.” Dillon followed Jim into his office. Once seated, Dillon said, “I hate to do this, Mr. P., but something’s come up. I need to leave.”

 Jim leaned across his desk, his dark gray hair ruffled from a night at work, his hazel eyes boring holes into Dillon’s skin. “Is everything all right with you, Dillon?” Before Dillon could speak, Jim held up his hands. “I don’t mean to pry, but you went from never missing a night of work to having to take leave at a moment’s notice. The change in you has me worried.”

 The skin on the back of Dillon’s neck began to prickle. He needed this job too bad to lose it now. “Mr. P., are you gonna fire me? I know I’ve taken some extra time off lately, but--”

 Jim shook his head. “Calm down, son. I have no intention of firing you. Like I’ve told you before, you’re the best employee I’ve got. I just want you to know, no matter what’s going on in your life, you can talk to me about it.” He paused. “I heard a rumor that you’re no longer living with your folks.”

 Dillon swallowed, hard. “No, sir. I’m living with my older brother, Heath.”

 Jim nodded. “I understand that young men your age sometimes have problems relating to their folks. Heck, I may be three times older than you are, but I haven’t forgotten what it feels like to be eighteen. The point is, my door is always open for you, Dillon. I’m more than willing to help in any way I can.”

 “Thanks, sir. I’ll make up tonight’s time, I swear it.”

 “Not necessary. Now, go on. Take care of your business. I’ll see you on Monday night.”

 Dillon almost screamed his relief as he left Jim’s office. He’d cleared the first hurdle. Now all he had to do was get to Jamie and Megan. Dillon clocked out and had almost made it to the front door of the shop when he ran headfirst into Heath. Oh great. That was all he needed.

 “Heath, what are you doing down here?”

 Heath’s face was flushed, and Dillon was pretty sure it had nothing to do with the cold outside. “Did the sheriff get in touch with you?”

 Oh, crap. “Yeah, he did.”

 “Good. He called the apartment first, looking for you. Thought maybe you had the night off, he said. What’s this about Megan and Jamie being arrested in Chicago?”

 “They weren’t arrested, Heath. Just picked up by the police.” Oh, yeah. Like that was so much better.

 “Picked up?” Heath’s panic was near-painful to watch. “Is Megan okay?” 

 Dillon started walking towards the door again. “She’s fine, at least as far as I know. I still don’t know why you won’t just tell her you’re crazy in love with her and be done with it.”

 Heath followed. “Never mind about that. Tell me what in the hell Megan is doing in jail.”

 “It’ll have to wait. I’m on my way to pick her and Jamie up now.”

 Heath was hot on his heels. “You can tell me on the way there. I’m going with you.” 

 Well fuck a duck on Sunday morning. If Dillon’s night got any worse, he didn’t think he’d survive it. He forced himself to stop the pity party before it reached full swing. Time to fetch his boyfriend out of the slammer. One more trip to a correctional facility for either one of them and he and Jamie would officially be white trash. Dillon slipped into the driver’s seat of his Lumina and waited for Heath to climb in on the other side. It was gonna be a long night. 

              #

 Carrying a thick, manila-clad file Jamie assumed must be Burke Carpenter’s, Detective Kilgore came back into the stale office, his coffee-colored skin dripping with sweat despite the frigid air outside. Flipping his waist length braids over his shoulder, Kilgore slapped the file down and took a seat on his side of the rickety, wooden desk, putting him directly across from Jamie. Kilgore had the dark, exotic looks of a tropical swimsuit model, but the expression he wore made Jamie want to run and hide. His amber eyes probed first Jamie, then Megan, who was seated just to Jamie’s right. Finally, Kilgore said. “Damn, it’s hot in here. Stupid furnace malfunctioned again. You sure I can’t get you kids anything to drink? A soda, maybe?”

 Jamie shook his head just as Megan did the same. Jamie instantly wished he’d said yes about the drink when Kilgore went on with, “All right, then. Let’s go over this thing one more time. What were the two of you doing at Burke Carpenter’s house?”

 This guy had to be related to Bran in some way. They asked the same kinds of questions and gave the same damning looks. Jamie sighed. “I only wanted to talk to the guy.”

 “What about?”

 Jamie froze, not sure how to answer. That’s when Megan stepped in. “As I said before, Detective Kilgore, Jamie lost his best friend recently. It just so happens that Jamie’s friend, Ben Lewis, lived with Burke for a while. We were hoping Mr. Carpenter could tell us something about Ben’s life before he and Jamie met. You know, childhood stories, funny memories. Anything that might help Jamie find a little bit of peace and comfort after losing Ben the way he did.”

 Damn, she was good. Jamie could actually see Hank Kilgore’s eyes softening towards him. “Look, James, I can understand why you’d want to find out all you can about your friend, especially after Sheriff Nash explained to me what happened to the boy. But hunting down guys like Carpenter isn’t the answer. He wasn’t the kind of guy who’d keep a scrapbook of happy memories involving his foster kids, if you know what I mean. By all accounts, he was a total bastard. Carpenter did things during his lifetime you couldn’t even imagine.”

 Wanna bet? Jamie said, “I understand, Detective. I made a mistake by snooping around in Ben’s past. It won’t happen again.” Jamie had his fingers crossed under the table. If he told one more lie, Jamie just knew his nose was gonna start growing.

 Kilgore went on. “I’m not saying you aren’t entitled to find out all you can about your friend. All I’m saying is, you’re going about it the wrong way. Burke Carpenter used anyone and everyone he came in contact with, his foster children especially. I can’t say any more than that without jeopardizing the case, but I can say that you want to talk to someone who actually knew Ben, and Burke wouldn’t have fit into that category. You want someone who knew Ben the person. Old school mates, fellow foster brothers, former teachers: anyone who might have taken the time to get to know the real Ben Lewis.”

 Out of that whole speech, Jamie heard only one phrase. Former foster brothers? He hadn’t even thought of that. Jamie gave himself a mental slap on the forehead. Of course. Burke was bound to have had a stable full of boys, especially if he’d been raking in as much money as Ben claimed he was. One of the other guys was almost sure to know something that might tip Jamie off as to who Ben’s second blackmail victim was. At least they might be able to tell him how to find the guy. That is, if Jamie could get them to talk. He shook himself. First, he had to find them. And this time, he knew where to at least start.

 Forcing a cough, Jamie said, “Detective Kilgore, my mouth is kinda dry. Do you think maybe I could have a soda, after all?” Jamie broke into another fit of coughing. Megan reached over and started patting him on the back just as Kilgore stood up.

 “Sure, kid. I’ll be back in just a sec.”

 The minute Kilgore left the office, Jamie stopped coughing and turned to Megan. “If you’re done beating the daylights out of me, go stand at the door and keep a lookout.”

 “A lookout for what?” But even as she asked, Megan moved to the door. Jamie flipped open the file, relieved to see that it was, indeed, Carpenter’s, but wincing at the crime scene photos laying on top. Fuck. The guy who took out Carpenter meant business. Jamie forced his eyes away from the bloody pictures and flipped through the file. He passed over a picture of Burke before he’d been shot. Nice enough looking guy. Mid-forties, fake tan, big smile. As with Barry Sledge, there was nothing in Burke’s picture to indicate the monster within. After giving the picture a brief once over, Jamie started his search again, going through the folder until he came to a page marked Household Occupants. He gave the document a quick scan, making certain it was what he was looking for. Without giving himself time to really think about what he was doing, Jamie removed the paper from its clips and, folding it into a sloppy square, slipped it into his front pocket. He closed the file just as Megan came back to her chair.




The Way You Say My Name Ch. 11



“What did you take out of that report?” Even whispering as she was, Megan sounded scared to death. Jamie felt sick with guilt for putting her in that position.

 “The less you know right now the better, Megan. I swear I’ll tell you all of it as soon as I get it straightened out.” Jamie reached over and squeezed her hand. “I know I’ve said it before, but I’m so sorry for getting you into this.”

 Megan managed a weak smile. “It was my idea to come with you, remember? No apologies necessary.”

 Jamie was about to say something else when Kilgore came back in. He handed a soft drink can to Jamie and said, “All right, you two. Since Sheriff Nash vouched for you, you’re free to go. Your ride is here, and it seems they brought the money to free Miss Nash’s car from impound. All you have to do is pick up your coats and other personal belongings at the sign out desk, and then pay the clerk for the towing charges so you can leave. They’re waiting for you up front”

 They? Jamie’s heart sank. He knew without asking who’d come for them. If it had been Bran and Nate, Bran would have been in the office and in his face already. No, Bran had pulled out the big guns. Jamie and Megan left Kilgore’s office only to come face to face with a wounded Dillon and a furious Heath.

 Megan tried to speak first, but Heath held up his hand. “No way, lady. You and I are gonna pick up your stuff and get your car out of impound while Dillon and Jamie have a little talk. I think maybe the two of us are overdo for a discussion of our own.”

 Megan’s eyes crackled with electricity. “You and I don’t have a darn thing to say to each other, Heath Carver. You’re not my keeper.”

 Heath took her arm, gentle in spite of his anger. “Somebody damn sure needs to be. Honest to God, Megan. What were you thinking?” Before she could answer, Heath placed one finger over Megan’s lips. “Unless you want this to escalate into an all out screaming match in the middle of the police station, I think we should go get your car now.” 

 Megan nodded her head mutely and followed Heath towards the clerk’s desk. Dillon waited until they were gone and then pointed to a row of plastic chairs just outside the booking area. He sat down, and as soon as Jamie took the chair next to his, said, “Would you please tell me what’s going on here?”

 Jamie took a deep breath and spilled out the entire story, from sitting in Aunt Sadie’s kitchen eating lasagna to getting picked up by the cops at Burke’s place. When he was done, Jamie glanced Dillon’s way. “I guess you’re pretty mad at me, huh?”

 Dillon ran his fingers through his hair, causing it to stand--literally--on end. “Mad, no. But I am confused about a couple of things.”

 “Like what?”

 Dillon leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and turning his head towards Jamie. “Why would you come all the way to Chicago to talk to Burke?”

 “I was hoping he could lead me to Ben’s second blackmail victim.”

 Dillon clenched his fists in exasperation. “If there even is a second victim. For all we know, Ben stole that money. Either that or he fucked some guy who was stupid enough to pay big bucks for a cheap piece of tail.” 

 Jamie winced. He was pretty sure Dillon’s crude speculation came more from irritation and worry than anything else. For that reason, he did his best to ignore it. “I believe Ben got that extra twenty-thousand the same way he got the first twenty. Blackmail, right down the line.” Jamie gave Dillon a pleading stare. “And if you’re being honest with yourself, I think you believe it, too.”

 Jamie could tell that Dillon was doing his best to be patient. It wasn’t working, but at least he was trying. “Fine. For the sake of argument, let’s say I do believe Ben had another sucker on the hook. That still doesn’t explain why you came all the way to Chicago to talk to a kiddy pimp. What makes you think the other blackmail victim isn’t someone Ben met in Reed? How could Burke have possibly helped you find out who the guy is?”

 “It’s just a gut feeling I have. If it was someone from Reed, someone like Ash, then why didn’t Ben feel guilty about it? He felt bad enough about Ash to leave that letter and give back the photos. Why wouldn’t Ben feel bad enough about to do the same for the other guy. Also, if this new guy was someone Ben met while in Reed, how come I never knew about the relationship? Ben told me about Ash. Even though he never mentioned him by name, I knew he was seeing someone. If Ben had something similar going on with another guy, I think I would have known about it.”

 “Yeah, sure. Just like you knew that your best friend turned Ash into his own personal cash cow?”

 Jamie turned his head, unable to bear the sarcasm and disdain coming from Dillon’s direction.

 Dillon sighed and, tucking one finger under Jamie’s chin, turned his head so the two of them very facing. “So what, you think this guy is someone from Ben’s past?” The look on Dillon’s face said he wasn’t sure he was buying into that theory.

 For some reason, that bothered Jamie. He wanted Dillon to believe in him, to see things his way. “I think it’s a definite possibility. Ben said in his letter to Ash that Burke took pictures and made videos of his boys with their clients. He also said that Burke used that stuff to blackmail some pretty powerful men. What if Ben kept his own records from those days?”

 Dillon sat up straight. “You think Ben had his own set of blackmail pics from when he was a prostitute?”

 “I think it’s a definite possibility. And I also think there’s only one way to find out. I have to talk to some of the guys who lived with Burke during the time Ben was there.”

 Dillon narrowed his eyes. “And just how are you planning to find these guys?”

 Jamie flushed. “I sorta swiped a list of names from Burke Carpenter’s police file.”

 Dillon practically screamed. “You did what?”

 “Shh. Somebody’s gonna hear you.” In a calmer tone, Jamie said, “In Burke’s file, there was a list of guys who were living in the house at the time of Burke’s death. Out by each name is a phone number where each one can be reached. Now, some of those guys may have come in after Ben left, but a couple are bound to know who he is. I mean, was.”

 Dillon stifled a snort. “Let me guess, you’re gonna go home and contact each one.”

 Jamie sat up straight and stiffened his spine. “No, I’m gonna check into a hotel here in Chicago, spend the night, and contact each and everyone of them tomorrow morning.” Jamie looked Dillon right in the eyes. “I’m not coming home until I find someone who can tell me something that’s gonna help me find out who the second blackmail victim was.”

 “Seems like you’ve got it all figured out.” Dillon stood up and walked over to one of the narrow windows that overlooked the front parking lot. Jamie knew as dark as it was, Dillon probably couldn’t see a thing, but that didn’t stop him from standing there for a full minute, just staring. Finally he turned back to Jamie and said, “There’s only one part of this equation I’m unsure of.” Dillon leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. “You keep saying you’re gonna hunt down information about Ben. You’re gonna spend the night in Chicago. There’s a whole lot of ‘you’s’ in what you just said, and not a single ‘us.’ Where do I fit in Jamie? You have all these plans, and it seems like I’m not in a single damn one of them.”

 Jamie stood up. He could see the pain in Dillon’s eyes, and he hated himself for causing it. “I didn’t leave you out of my plans to stay in Chicago because I wanted to hurt you, Dillon. It’s just that you seemed so mad at me when you came in here, I didn’t think you’d want to be included.”

 Dillon all but threw up his hands. “Of course I was mad. Did you even stop and think about what could have happened to you. It’s bad enough that you got hauled in here, but God almighty, Jamie, what would you have done if you’d run into the guy who offed Burke. You could have been killed.”

 Jamie didn’t know what to say. Dillon was shaking, and Jamie could tell it was more fear than actual anger talking. He stretched out his hand. “Dillon--”

 Dillon pressed himself further against the wall. “No. You can’t talk this away, Jamie. I’m not just gonna stand by and watch you put yourself at risk time and time again. I can’t lose you again. I love you, dammit.”              

             # 

 Dillon and Jamie grabbed Jamie’s coat and wallet from the desk clerk and caught up with Megan and Heath out in the impound yard. Neither Megan nor his brother looked too happy, and Dillon could certainly sympathize. 

 Megan walked towards her car. “Who’s gonna ride with who?”

 Dillon cleared his throat. “You and Heath head on back to Reed in your car, Meggie. Jamie and I are gonna stay the night in Chicago.”

 Jamie gaped at Dillon, seemingly shocked by Dillon’s decision to stay in Chicago with him. Dillon wasn’t sure if Jamie was happy about it or not. Well, that was just too darn bad. There was no way Dillon was gonna leave him in Chicago alone. It was bad enough that he’d confessed his love in the middle of a Chicago police station only to have Jamie stand in mute silence and stare at him, but Dillon would be damned before he let Jamie put himself at risk again. Jamie would just have to deal with it.

 Heath raised his brows but didn’t say anything other than, “Fine, but I’m driving.” He glared at Megan, daring her to argue.

 To Dillon’s surprise, she didn’t. Instead, at the word hotel, Megan’s eyes began to sparkle. “Okay by me, but I have something in my glove box I need to give Jamie first.” She grabbed Jamie by the wrist and started pulling him towards the vehicle.

 Once Megan and Jamie were out of ear shot, Heath said, “A hotel room?”

 “Don’t ask.”

 Heath nodded, pulling his coat tighter against himself to keep out the chill March wind. “You need any money?”

 Dillon shook his head. “Nah. I’m good.” He stared down at his shoe for a second. “Heath, can I ask you something?”

 “I think you just did.”

 Dillon looked back up at his brother. “This is serious, Heath. Please.”

 “Sorry, kid. Go ahead.”

 “How, um . . . how do you know when your partner is ready to move the relationship to the next level?”

 “You mean sex?”

 Dillon’s face was on fire. “I was thinking more along the lines of a serious commitment, but I guess sex sorta goes with that.”

 Heath clamped his hand on Dillon’s shoulder. “I’ve never made a commitment to anyone before, but I do know a thing or two about sex. The thing is, the only experience I have is with girls. I’m not sure if it’s different with guys, but I’d say the best way to tell if a guy is ready is to look for signals. Usually when I’m with a girl, she’ll give me some sign that she’s ready to take things up a notch.”

 Dillon’s curiosity overcame his embarrassment. “What kind of sign?”

 Heath shrugged. “It differs from girl to girl. Sometimes it’s a look they give you, a certain word they say. Others are pretty damn bold about it. I had this one girl tell me once she wanted me to fuck her into unconsciousness. I ended up turning her down. Girls like that really aren’t my style.” Heath’s eyes drifted to Megan as she and Jamie walked back towards them. “I like my women softer, more feminine.” He shook himself out of it and turned back to Dillon, squeezing his shoulder again. “I think you’ll know, kid. I wouldn’t stress over it.”

 Jamie and Megan came back up just as Heath finished. Jamie was carrying a small duffle bag, but it was Megan who spoke. “You wouldn’t stress over what?”

 Heath crossed his arms, towering over her. “Just never you mind.” He held out his hand. “Keys.”

 Megan screwed up her face. “God, you’re bossy. What did I do, grow another father when I wasn’t looking or something?” Still, she handed the keys over and said good-bye to Jamie and Dillon.

 Heath took her arm and led her towards the car. Turning back, he said, “Be careful. Both of you. And call if you need me.”

 Dillon nodded. “Thanks, Heath. We will.”

 Dillon and Jamie walked back across the impound yard to the visitor’s parking lot in silence. The anger and fear Dillon had felt when Brandon called him had been replaced by a new worry. He was about to check into a hotel room with the only man he’d ever loved. He was scared of making the wrong move, but more scared of making no move at all. He only hoped Heath was right about the signs thing. Not only had Jamie given him no indication of how he was feeling, he hadn’t even returned Dillon’s declaration of love. Dillon had never felt so much turmoil, so much confusion, not even when he came out to his folks. He prayed Jamie would give him some signal to show him what he should do. God knows he needed it.

 But if Jamie was planning on giving Dillon any hints, he was taking his own sweet time about it. The only discussion once Jamie and Dillon were in the Lumina and on their way out of the parking lot was which of the hundreds of hotels in Chicago they should check into. There was also an argument about who should pay for it. Dillon wanted to pay for it himself, but Jamie insisted on using his credit card. His aunt gave it to him for emergencies, and Jamie intended to use it. Dillon was pretty sure Sadie wouldn’t consider hunting down the foster children of a murdered scum-sucker like Carpenter an emergency, but there was no arguing with Jamie once his mind was made up. Dillon was fast becoming an expert on the power of Jamie’s stubborn will. Jamie was just lucky Dillon was crazy about him. He’d be tempted to strangle him, otherwise.

 The hotel debate was settled when Dillon had to stop for gas not far from the police station. When Dillon stepped inside to pay, he asked the clerk, a guy not much older than himself, if he knew of any decent places in the area.

 The clerk peered through the Plexiglas. Even as dark as it was outside, Jamie was plainly visible sitting in the car under the bright lights of the convenience store parking lot. Dillon saw the look the clerk gave Jamie, and was fully prepared for some smart remark. Instead, the guy gave him a genuine smile and said, “There’s a place not too far down the road here, a hotel called the Preston Inn. It’s a nice place, clean and all, but since the new owners just opened back up after a complete remodel, it’s reasonably priced, and they don’t ask too many questions, if you know what I mean.”

 Dillon caught the meaning all right, but he thanked the clerk, anyway, and waited while the guy wrote out directions. Once done, Dillon headed back to the car. After a quick replay of the conversation--well, most of it--Dillon got the go ahead from Jamie, and the two of them headed towards the Preston Inn.

 Dillon was relieved to see that the hotel was in a nicer part of town. Streetlamps lined the sidewalk in front of the building, and a parking garage just behind the freshly renovated, white-brick structure provided safe and ample parking.

 Dillon pulled into a spot across the street from the hotel. As soon as the car stopped, Jamie turned to him, a look of surprise visible on his face even in the dim glow of the streetlights. “Why are you stopping here? Why didn’t you pull into the parking garage?”

 Time to put his cards on the table. “I’m not pulling into the garage until you and I get a few things settled.”

 Dillon heard Jamie pull in a deep breath. “What things?”

 “Things like, what is it you want from this relationship?”

 “I’m not following you.”

 Dillon could tell. Okay, time to spell it out. “Like I told you at the police station, I want to know where we stand. Are we an ‘us’--a real couple--or are we just two guys playing around. I know I’m serious, but I’m not sure about you. The more of these plans you make without me, the more I feel you pulling away.”

 Jamie reached for his hand. “Dillon, I swear to God it isn’t like that. I want us to be partners.” Jamie dropped Dillon’s hand long enough to wipe his face with his palm. “I know I shouldn’t have run off like that without talking to you first. I just didn’t want you to be mad at me.”

 Dillon picked Jamie’s hand back up. “People in relationships get mad at each other, Jamie. It’s just part of the deal. That’s where trust comes in. Each of us has to trust the other to forgive and move on. I’m not your master here, just like you aren’t mine. I don’t wanna tell you how to live your life, I just wanna be a part of it. Please.”

 Jamie nodded. “I want that, too.” He paused. “You said you had ‘things’ you needed to know, as in more than one. What else?”

 Dillon cleared his throat. He was gonna do it. He was gonna offer up his heart on a silver platter. “I need to know what you want to happen tonight, Jamie. I mean, I told you I loved you, and you didn’t say a word. God, you don’t know what that did to me, to tell you how I felt and have you just stand there.”

 Jamie went totally still. “You’re wrong, Dillon. I do know how it feels.”

 Christ. Dillon had said the wrong damn thing again. How many times had Jamie told Dillon he loved him, only to have Dillon brush it off, to ignore it? Maybe this was payback, an eye for an eye long delayed. “Is that why you didn’t say anything? Are you giving me a taste of my own medicine, or is it that you really don’t love me and don’t have the heart to tell me?”

 Jamie shook his head with violent intensity. “No. God no.” He let go of Dillon’s hand and laid his own hand on Dillon’s chest, just over his heart. “I didn’t say anything because I was in shock, Dillon. That’s the first time you’ve ever said you loved me. I wasn’t sure if you even meant it or not.”

 Dillon placed his hand over Jamie’s and looked into his eyes. “I meant it, every word. I love you, Jamie.”

 Jamie’s voice was soft, but his words were sparkling with clarity. “I love you, too.”

 To hear those four incredible words spill from Jamie’s soft lips again--to be able to say them back--took Dillon’s breath away. Still, he managed to say, “What is it you want from me, Jamie? Tell me and I’ll do it.”

 Jamie leaned forward until his mouth was almost touching Dillon’s. “I want everything you have to give. I want your heart, your soul, your life blended into mine. I want all of that.” His voice turned husky. “And right now, more than anything, I want you to take me into that hotel and make love to me.”

         {TO BE CONTINUED}     



The Way You Say My Name Ch. 12



Well, Dillon had asked for a sign, and he’d sure as hell gotten one. But there were several ways for two guys to make love, and as he stood waiting in the spacious lobby of the Preston Inn while Jamie checked them into a room, Dillon couldn’t help but wonder which way Jamie wanted things to go. Dillon was so nervous, he didn’t even realize Jamie was standing in front of him, again, talking.

“I said, are you ready to go up?”

“You got the room already?”

Jamie held up an old fashioned brass key. “Yep. Room four-sixteen is now officially ours.”

Dillon glanced over at the blonde-haired, uniform-clad desk clerk who was doing his best to watch them without looking like he was. “Did he give you any trouble?”

Jamie shook his head. “Nope. The guy took my card, scanned it, and gave me the receipt. After I signed it, he told me to ring down if we needed anything.” Jamie hesitated, the duffle bag Megan had given him rattling slightly from the tremor in his hands. “Are you, um . . . ready to go up?”

Dillon was pretty sure his palms were gonna start dripping sweat any minute. He’d never been this nervous, not even the first time he and Jamie had made love. Of course, back then he convinced himself it was nothing more than two buddies playing around. Now it was different. This time Dillon knew exactly what it meant. Clearing his throat, he managed to say, “Yeah,” before following Jamie to the elevators at the other end of the lobby.

Dillon barely remembered the ride up or the walk to the room. He waited in a type of trance while Jamie unlocked the door and led him inside. Jamie flipped a switch by the door, causing lamps on either side of the bed to come on, bathing the room in soft, romantic light.

The room itself was nice enough. The walls were painted a warm beige color with little red roses stenciled on top. Three floor-to-ceiling windows took up the east wall. Dillon wouldn’t have cared if the room had been painted green with purple polka-dots and had no windows whatsoever, though. All his attention was focused on the massive, king-sized oak bed taking up the middle of the room. Jamie’s eyes seemed glued to it, as well. So much so that Dillon was the one who had to shut and lock the door.

When he was done, the two of them suffered an awkward moment of silence, both of them just standing there, looking at the bed. Finally, Dillon said, “Did you call your aunt to let her know where you are?”

That snapped Jamie out of it. “I forgot all about that. God, she’s gonna be so pissed.” Jamie grabbed for the phone on the bedside table. “How do you dial out on this thing?”

Dillon pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “Here. You can use mine.”

Jamie took Dillon’s phone, but hesitated before dialing the number. “I’m not sure what I’m gonna tell her.”

Dillon sat down in one of the overstuffed arm chairs located in a small sitting area not far from the bed. “Tell her the truth. As much of it as you can, anyway.”

Dillon could actually hear Jamie gulp for air. “You mean--”

“Yep. Tell her that the two of us are here in a hotel room in Chicago. Tell her we’re spending the night together.”

#

Sadie took it better than Jamie thought she would. “Am I to assume from this announcement that you and Dillon are about to begin a new phase of your relationship?”

Jamie sat on the edge of the bed, dying from the embarrassment of discussing this with his aunt. But she’d asked him a question, and he was gonna answer it. “Yes, ma’am. That’s the plan.”

“And is this something you’re ready for, Jamie?”

Was he? He’d been asking himself the same damn question. Before, he’d been nothing more than a quick form of release for Dillon, a toy to be played with and then put away when Dillon was done. But that was a different time, a different Dillon. As far as that went, they were both different people. Jamie might be nervous, but there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Dillon was what he wanted--what he needed. Jamie looked over at his guy, relieved to see that Dillon looked just as nervous as he did. That one thing, seeing the ever-confident Dillon come undone, helped Jamie give his answer. “Yes, ma’am. I’m ready.”

“All right, then. Put Dillon on the phone, please.”

Oh, no. “Aunt Sadie--”

“Jamie, do as I say.” Her voice softened, laced with love and affection. “Put him on the phone, son. I have a couple of things I want to say to him, and then I’ll let the two of you get on with your night. And Jamie?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Remember that I love you, and that I support you no matter what. Now, give the boy the phone.”

Jamie walked over to where Dillon sat and handed him the phone. Dillon straightened from his slouch and said, “Hello?”

Jamie couldn’t hear what Sadie was saying, but he found the play of emotions moving across Dillon’s face fascinating. Dillon’s cheeks went from white, to red, and back again. More than once, he said, “Yes, ma’am,” and towards the end he answered something she’d said with, “No, ma’am. Never, I swear it.” To Jamie’s amazement, by the time he disconnected, Dillon looked far more relaxed than he had when they’d first entered the room. He stood up, shed his heavy jacket and tossed it onto the floor, then helped Jamie pull his own coat off and pitched it in the same general direction. Once that was done, Dillon put his arms around Jamie’s waist and pulled him close.

Jamie’s head came to rest on Dillon’s chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat the most reassuring sound Jamie had ever heard. He lifted his head only long enough to say, “What did Aunt Sadie want to talk to you about?”

The rumbling sound of Dillon’s soft laughter tickled Jamie’s cheek. “She wanted me to know where she stood on the whole ‘me-and-you-having-sex’ thing.”

Jamie moved back within the circle of Dillon’s arms so he could see Dillon’s face. “Really? And where exactly does she stand?”

Dillon grinned. “She’s cool with it, I guess, but she said if I hurt you again, she’s gonna come after me with her grandfather’s deer rifle. I believe she said something about using my balls for target practice.”

Jamie shuddered. “If that’s what she said, then how come you seem calmer now than you did a few minutes ago?”

Dillon trailed the fingers of his right hand up and down Jamie’s spine. Jamie felt the tingle, even through his shirt. “Because when Sadie warned me what would happen if I hurt you again, I realized something.”

Jamie could feel himself dissolving under the gentle pressure of Dillon’s hands. “What’s that?”

Dillon pulled him in even closer. “I realized that I could never hurt you like that again, because this time I’m going to put you first. This relationship isn’t about me, it’s about us. I want to please you, Jamie. I want to make you happy.”

“You do.”

Dillon shook his head, still holding Jamie tight. “That’s not what I meant.” He moved back, catching Jamie’s hands in both of his and stepping away so that only their fingertips were touching. “The times before, when we were together, I was always in charge, always on top. Tonight I want it to be different.” His voice dropped to a husky rasp that Jamie felt all the way to his bones. “I want you to top me tonight, Jamie. I want you to make love to me.”

Jamie froze. He’d thought about that so many times in the past, wondered what it would feel like to be inside of Dillon, to feel his flesh melting into Dillon’s warm body. Jamie wanted that, he really did. But not tonight. Tonight he wanted Dillon to take him. No, he didn’t want it, he needed it. 

“It means a lot to me that you want that, Dillon. I do, too, but not tonight.” Jamie lifted Dillon’s left hand up to his lips and kissed each finger. “Tonight I want you to top me.”

Instead of the excitement Jamie expected to see on Dillon’s face, he saw only confusion. “I can’t do that, Jamie.”

“Why not? You’ve done it before. Why not now?”

Dillon dropped Jamie’s hands and started pacing the length of the sitting area. “That’s just it. Before, I used you. Mistreated you, even. I was always on top, and I used it to my advantage.” Dillon stopped pacing and gave Jamie the most helpless look he’d ever seen. “What if I screw up again? What if I do something wrong that makes you think I haven’t changed? God, I can’t lose you, Jamie. I can’t go through that hell again.” 

This time it was Jamie who offered comfort. He walked over to where Dillon stood and held out his arms. Dillon all but flew into them, fitting rather nicely despite their differences in height. After holding him for a minute, Jamie led Dillon towards the bed. They sat down at the foot, holding hands but touching nowhere else. 

Jamie gave Dillon a chance to calm down again and then said, “You won’t screw up again because, like you said, you know what’s at stake now. Don’t you see, Dillon? It has to be this way. You have to prove to yourself that you can do it right this time.” Jamie gave him a crooked smile. “You have to stop being so afraid of losing me. I’m not going anywhere, and I’m hoping this will help show you that.”

Dillon was listening, but Jamie could still see his uncertainty. “So you’re saying that by me taking you, so to speak, I’m going to gain confidence in our relationship?”

“I think so.”

Dillon leaned in a little closer. “And what about you? What do you get out of this Jamie?”

Dillon was so close, Jamie could feel his breath. “I get to replace all the bad memories with new ones. Happy ones. I need this, Dillon. I need to see the difference in you--in us. I need to feel it.”

Those words had an immediate effect on Dillon, but not the one Jamie expected. Dillon stood up, grabbed his coat, and started for the door. 

Startled, Jamie stood as well. “Where are you going?”

Dillon opened the door but paused at the threshold. He turned and gave Jamie a sheepish grin. “Sorry. I got a little ahead of myself. It’s just that, if you really want me to do this, I’m gonna need to get some supplies. There’s an all-night drugstore not far from here. I saw it on the way in.”

“That isn’t necessary.”

“Yes it is, Jamie. We didn’t use anything before. No lube, I mean. I could have really hurt you, and I’m not gonna take that chance again. You’re too precious to me to risk that.”

Jamie pointed to the small duffle bag he’d placed on the floor near the bed when they’d first walked in. “That’s not what I meant. Megan, um . . . gave us everything we need.”

Dillon closed the door again. Tossing his coat onto a nearby dresser, Dillon came back into the room proper. “I beg your pardon?”

“That’s what’s in the bag Megan gave me. See, she was counting on me having to make the first move, and she thought maybe she could help.”

Dillon groaned. “I’m afraid to ask, but do you have any idea what’s in that thing, exactly?”

“Not exactly, no. But I do know Megan called it a do-it-yourself gay sex kit.”

Dillon’s eyes looked like they were in danger of jumping out of his skull. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“’Fraid not.”

Dillon picked up the bag and came back to the bed. Sitting down, he began to remove the contents. Jamie sat down beside him and watched in amazement as Dillon pulled out three videotapes, two pairs of matching silk boxer shorts, a book titled The Joys of Gay Sex, a bottle of lubricant which neither of them paid much attention to at that moment, and a package of condoms. A large package of condoms. A package of forty-eight, to be exact.”

“Jesus Christ, what was she thinking?”

Jamie couldn’t help but laugh. “Maybe she was just being optimistic.”

“Jamie, if Megan thinks we’re gonna use forty-eight condoms in one night she isn’t being optimistic, she’s just plain delusional.”

Jamie laughed. “Did you read the titles on those tapes?”

“Uh huh. Somehow I don’t think Ride ‘Em Cowboy, Hung, and Pounding the Ranger are classic westerns.”

“Wonder where she got gay porn?”

Dillon shook his head. “I’m afraid to ask.” He picked up one pair of the boxers. “These are nice.” He then reached for the second pair. “Look, she even got us the right sizes.”

“It was sweet of her to go to all this trouble, but I don’t think we’re gonna need most of this stuff.” Jamie put everything back in the bag except the condoms and the lubricant. He placed the lube on the nightstand and, studying the package of condoms for a second, said, “What about these? Are we gonna need them?”

Dillon seemed surprised. “No. Why would we?”

This was the part Jamie dreaded. Dillon knew about Jamie’s sexual history, because Dillon was Jamie’s sexual history. On the other hand, Jamie had never had the courage to ask if Dillon had been with anyone else in the time they were apart. He was about to find out.

“Well, just in case you’ve been with anyone that might, well, you know . . .”

Dillon took the condoms out of Jamie’s hand and tossed them in the direction of the bedside table, near the lubricant. “There hasn’t been anyone else, Jamie. There never could have been. You’re it for me.”

“Really?”

Dillon slipped both his arms behind Jamie’s back and, using the weight of his body, eased Jamie down onto the bed, coming down to rest on top of him. “I swear it. You’re the only one. If you want me to wear a condom, though, I will.”

Jamie shook his head, his body already heating at the thought of Dillon being inside him, encased in latex or otherwise. “No, I want to feel you, and just you.”

Dillon’s breathing increased at Jamie’s words. “I want that, too, but first I want to do something we’ve never done before.”

“Oh, yeah? And what would that be?”

Dillon grinned. “I want us to get undressed, slide under the covers, and just make out.”

“Make out?” 

“Yep.” Dillon wiggled his hips a little, causing Jamie to squirm underneath him. “Make out. You know, kissing and stuff.”

Jamie popped him on the shoulder. “I know what making out is, you jerk. I just never thought you’d wanna do it.”

Dillon’s eyes glittered as he braced himself on his elbows and ran the fingers of his right hand through Jamie’s hair. “Before, we missed out on so much of the good stuff because of my own stupidity. I want a chance to go back and do it right this time.” Dillon pulled himself off Jamie and stood, holding out his hand to help Jamie up. “What do you say? Wanna climb under the covers with me and suck face?”

Jamie took Dillon’s hand and stood up. He toed off his shoes and socks as Dillon did the same. Instead of undressing himself, though, Jamie reached for the buttons on Dillon’s shirt. Dillon hissed in a breath as Jamie slid first one button then the next through the holes until the button-up shirt Dillon was wearing over his t-shirt was undone. Jamie freed Dillon’s arms from the fabric, allowing the shirt to fall to the floor. Slipping his hands under the hem of Dillon’s t-shirt, Jamie pulled it up and over Dillon’s head, sending it to join Dillon’s other shirt on the floor. Dillon moaned and bit his lip as Jamie smoothed his hands over Dillon’s chest. But when Jamie’s fingers dipped lower to the waistband of Dillon’s jeans, Dillon stopped him.

“Better let me do that, or this is gonna be over before it even starts.”

That was the last thing Jamie wanted. He stepped back just enough to allow Dillon room to pull off his jeans. Dillon looked so incredible, standing there nearly naked. His body was perfect, but it was the man himself--the man Dillon had become-- that took Jamie’s breath away. Clad in only a pair of gray boxer-briefs, Dillon moved in towards Jamie and returned the favor of undressing him.

Jamie stood stock still, enjoying the sensations as Dillon’s hands roamed over his body, freeing him of first his pullover shirt, then his jeans. Just as he’d done with himself, Dillon left Jamie’s cotton boxers in place. Giving Jamie a smile that made Jamie’s knees feel like Jell-O, Dillon said, “God, you’re beautiful. You ready?”

Jamie nodded. Dillon went to the bed and pulled back the covers, waiting for Jamie to slide under before doing the same thing himself. The minute they were both in bed, Dillon reached for Jamie, taking him into his arms and pulling Jamie underneath his hard body. Without saying a word, Dillon lowered his head and covered Jamie’s mouth, using his teeth and his tongue to tease Jamie’s lips apart. Jamie allowed him entrance as Dillon tasted him, kissing him with an intensity that left Jamie weak.

Jamie wasn’t sure how long they lay like that, whether minutes passed or hours. Dillon’s mouth made the journey from Jamie’s lips, to his chin, to the tender skin of his throat, time and again, teasing Jamie, making him ache deep inside. The heat and feel of Dillon on top of him was almost more than Jamie could stand, and at the same time, it wasn’t quite enough. Jamie was so hard he hurt, and judging from the velvet weight Jamie felt on his leg, Dillon was, too. It was time to do something about it.

“Dillon?”

Dillon paused, his teeth tugging on Jamie’s tender earlobe. “What is it, baby? Didn’t you like that?”

“God, yes.”

Dillon released Jamie’s ear long enough to smile down at him. He leaned forward and kissed Jamie’s nose. “Then what is it?”

“I’m ready, Dillon. The kissing is nice, but I want more.”

Dillon pressed his lips against Jamie’s cheek. “But I’m not done kissing you yet.”

“Dillon--”

“Shh. I just said I wasn’t done kissing you yet. I didn’t say where I was gonna kiss you.” And before Jamie could say anything else, Dillon began a slow trek down Jamie’s body with his tongue.

Jamie writhed in agony as Dillon circled first Jamie’s left nipple and then his right one with the tip of his tongue. Dillon was thorough, and showed Jamie no mercy. Using his front teeth, Dillon tugged and pulled, causing Jamie’s hips to come up off the bed. Who knew his nipples were so damn sensitive?

Dillon didn’t stop there, though. He licked a hot trail down Jamie’s chest, into the sensitive hollow of his stomach. Jamie sucked in a breath as Dillon tickled his belly button. When he felt Dillon reach the waistband of his boxers, Jamie was certain Dillon was gonna stop. Since Dillon was under the covers now, and his head was hidden from view, Jamie couldn’t see what he was doing. That’s when he felt a firm tug and the soft whisper of cotton as it slid free of his legs.

Dillon pulled down the covers and rose up on his knees, tossing Jamie’s boxers to the floor. The cool air hit Jamie’s heated skin, but it did nothing to cool the fire inside him. Especially not when Dillon lowered his head.

Again Dillon settled himself over Jamie, only this time, Dillon’s arms were wrapped around Jamie’s hips, trapping him in a tender embrace. Using the softest of caresses, Dillon flicked across Jamie’s most intimate skin with the tip of his tongue.

Jamie was gonna die. He just knew he was. Dillon took his time, working across Jamie’s flesh with his tongue. God, Jamie wanted so bad for Dillon to do more, but he couldn’t get the words past his throat. That’s when Dillon read his mind. Just when Jamie thought he couldn’t take it anymore, Dillon opened his mouth and took Jamie’s erection inside.

Jamie’s head thrashed from side to side against the pillows as Dillon increased the wet suction. Jamie was too large for Dillon to take all of him, but it didn’t matter. The moist heat, combined with the loving way Dillon’s hands cupped Jamie’s hips and rear, brought him to the brink in seconds. He issued a garbled warning, but Dillon refused to back off. Jamie could feel the rising contractions racing through his stomach--could feel the release coursing through him and flowing into Dillon. He half-expected Dillon to jump away in disgust, but instead Dillon stayed with him, taking all he had to offer until Jamie sagged against the mattress in a limp heap.

Dillon grinned and moved back up long enough to kiss Jamie softly on the mouth. Jamie could taste himself on Dillon’s lips, but if Dillon was bothered by Jamie’s flavor, he didn’t show it. 




The Way You Say My Name Ch. 12



Jamie wrapped his right arm around Dillon’s neck and slid his left hand down Dillon’s side. When he got close to his target, though, Dillon stopped him. “Not yet, baby.”

“I want to touch you.”

“I want that, too.” Dillon kissed each one of Jamie’s eyelids. “But you’re assuming I’m done with you, and I’m not. Not by a long shot.”

“Will you make love to me?”

“When you’re ready.”

Jamie was confused. How much readier could he be? “I told you, Dillon. I want this. I’m ready, now.” 

Dillon shook his head and, kissing Jamie one last time, pushed himself into a sitting position. “You’re not ready yet, but if I have anything to say about it, you’re gonna be.” And before Jamie could ask what he meant, Dillon put one hand on each of Jamie’s legs and spread them as wide as he could comfortably get them to go. While Jamie watched in amazement, Dillon got into position, his head level with his target, and once again used his tongue to work magic on Jamie’s body. Only this time, Jamie’s entrance was Dillon’s goal.

Jamie would have sworn he didn’t have another erection anywhere in his near future, but the minute he felt Dillon’s tongue circling his opening, Jamie could feel himself getting hard again. As much as Jamie enjoyed the painful pleasure Dillon was causing, though, he yearned to tell Dillon to come back, to make love to him. To make Jamie his. Before Jamie could get the words out, though, Dillon moistened one finger and slipped it inside. 

God, it felt so good. As Dillon stretched him using first one finger, then two, Jamie did his best to talk, to tell Dillon he didn’t want to wait any longer. The best he could get out was a squeak somewhere in the vicinity of Dillon’s name. That was when Dillon added the third finger, and touched a spot deep inside of Jamie that made stars dance before his eyes.

Putting his hand on Dillon’s shoulder, Jamie said, “Dillon, please, I need you. I don’t want to wait anymore.”

Dillon came back up, his hands shaking, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “Are you sure about this, Jamie? Once I get started, I don’t know if I can stop.”

Jamie shook his head. “Don’t stop. I don’t want you to. But I’m dying here, Dillon. Please, come inside me.”

Dillon nodded. “Not without lube, though. Where did we put that stuff Megan sent?”

Jamie pointed towards the table. “I think I tossed it over there somewhere.”

Dillon shimmied out of his boxer briefs, sending them to the floor with the rest of his clothes. When he was done, he leaned across the bed and reached for the tube. He must have gotten a good look at it, because his whole body went still. 

Jamie looked up at him through a haze of need. A need made even worse by the sight of Dillon in all his glory. But Dillon still wasn’t moving. “What’s the matter?”

“Uh, Jamie? I don’t think I can use this.”

“Why not? All you have to do is flip the cap. It may be a little cold--”

Dillon shook his head. “It’s not that. It’s just that this isn’t exactly the right kind of lube.”

Jamie sat up. “What are you talking about?”

Dillon handed him the tube. Jamie laughed out loud when he read the name of the product. Vagi-Slick Feminine Intimate Moisturizing Cream. Megan had one sick sense of humor. No wonder he loved that girl so much.

Jamie wrapped his arms around Dillon’s neck and pulled him back down. “Dillon, I wouldn’t care at this point if you used Turtle Wax. I need you.”

Dillon was so ready himself, it wasn’t really a hard sell. Popping the cap and squeezing a dollop into his hand, Dillon warmed it between his fingers and spread an ample amount around Jamie’s entryway. He then turned his attentions on himself, hesitating just long enough to say, “I’m gonna do it, but if my dick falls off and I grow boobs from using this stuff, you sure as hell better love me, anyway.”

Jamie panted out, “I will. I swear to God I will. Now come on, please.”

Dillon complied, slicking himself up and crawling between Jamie’s legs. “I want to make love like this--face to face--so I can see your eyes. Is that all right?”

It was more than all right. It was exactly what Jamie had been dreaming of since the two of them came together again. Jamie spread his legs and helped Dillon position himself. Without ever breaking eye contact, Dillon placed his head against Jamie’s opening, and, watching Jamie’s face carefully for any signs of discomfort, pushed until he was all the way inside.

Dillon immediately stopped to give Jamie time to adjust. Always before, there had been pain, but this time, Dillon had Jamie so ready there was nothing but a slight pressure and then the relief of having Dillon inside him, filling him, making him whole. Still, Dillon refused to move. That’s when Jamie took matters into his own hands. He wrapped both legs around Dillon’s waist, angling up his hips and bringing him all the way in.

Dillon slipped his arms up under Jamie’s back and pulled them flush. “I love you, Jamie. God, I love you.” And repeating the phrase over and over, Dillon started to move.

With each thrust, Dillon grazed against Jamie’s prostate, causing an unbearable friction as the tender skin of Dillon’s stomach did the same thing to Jamie’s penis where it lay trapped between them. It wasn’t long before Jamie could feel himself getting close again. But he wouldn’t come alone. Not this time. Not without Dillon. With that in mind, Jamie clenched his inner muscles over and over, joy flooding him as Dillon groaned from the feelings he was causing. Just when Jamie felt sure he couldn’t hold back his own orgasm any longer, he felt Dillon go rigid above him and then collapse into his arms as the spasms overtook him. That’s all Jamie needed. He closed his eyes and let the sensations carry him over.

# 

Early morning sunlight streamed through the windows and dappled across Jamie’s face as Dillon lay propped on his elbow, watching him sleep. The shower they’d taken together the night before had left Jamie’s skin smelling sweetly of soap and that unmistakable scent that was uniquely Jamie. Dillon fought the urge to wake him, but it wasn’t easy. Memories of last night kept calling to him. In the afterglow, while he and Jamie were cuddling, Jamie had told Dillon how new it all was for him, how incredible. It was incredible for Dillon, too, but not because it felt new. No. For Dillon, being inside Jamie again was like coming home from a two-year exile. He hadn’t felt this whole, this complete, since pushing Jamie out of his life. Jamie had been right about Dillon taking the lead this time, too. All the bad memories had faded under the spell of last night.

As if he could read Dillon’s thoughts, Jamie rolled over and opened his eyes. “Good morning.” His voice was sleep scratchy, and so sexy Dillon’s morning wood grew even harder.

Dillon leaned in and kissed him, ignoring Jamie’s protest about wanting to brush his teeth first. Jamie tasted like Heaven to Dillon. Jamie must have thought Dillon tasted pretty good himself, if the way Jamie drew Dillon in deeper was any indication.


When he could bring himself to pull away, Dillon looked down at Jamie and smiled. “Good morning, yourself. Sleep good?”

Jamie yawned and stretched, looking so darn cute Dillon had to force himself not to kiss him again. “Uh huh.” He looked up at Dillon with shinning eyes. “I slept better last night than I have in years.”

Dillon grinned. “Must be contagious. So did I.”

Jamie cuddled in closer to Dillon’s side. “What do you say we go back to sleep?”

Jamie’s stomach chose that exact moment to let out a loud growl. Dillon shook his head and laughed. “As much as I’d like to, we can’t. You’re hungry, and I’ve got to pee. I say we get dressed and go out for breakfast.” Dillon narrowed his eyes. “My treat, by the way. You paid for the room. The least I can do is feed us.”

Jamie leaned in and nipped Dillon’s collar bone. “I fed you last night. How about returning the favor?”

It took Dillon a minute to realize what Jamie was talking about. And it took the two of them a whole lot longer to get out of bed once Dillon caught on.

#

The plan, when they finally roused themselves, was to go out, grab a quick bite to eat, and then go to a payphone and call each number on Jamie’s stolen list until they found somebody who actually knew Ben. At least, it had sounded good at the time. And the breakfast part was great. Nothing like a night of hot sex to whet the appetite. But once they found an out-of-the-way payphone located in the back of a convenience store and put the remainder of the plan into action, Jamie began to see just how difficult his search was gonna be. His idea to use an alias, call each number, and then pretend to be a school friend of the boys on the list when speaking with concerned foster parents seemed to work well enough. The problem came when Jamie actually spoke to the boys themselves and realized that most of them came to live with Burke sometime within the last year or so, long after Ben had moved to Reed with Nora. It wasn’t that the boys didn’t try to help. In fact, Jamie was surprised at just how willing some of them were to talk to a total stranger about Burke and what a bastard he was. Oh, a couple refused to say anything at all, but most seemed to be forthright about everything. Out of all the guys he talked to, though, not a one was able to tell him anything he could use. It wasn’t totally unexpected, but still, it was disheartening. Jamie was just about to give up when he called the last name on the list, a guy by the name of Mitchell Harding.

A woman answered the phone. When Jamie asked for Mitchell, she sounded more than a little annoyed. “Who wants to know?”

“I’m a friend of his from school.” Jamie hoped his voice didn’t quiver.

“Uh huh. And I’m the Virgin Mary. Mitch ain’t been to school in almost four years. Try again.”

Four years? Maybe he had the wrong number. “This is the Mitchell Harding who just recently lived with Burke Carpenter, isn’t it?”

The woman’s voice took on a nasty, snarling-quality. “Listen here, you son-of-a-bitch. If you’re one of Burke’s customers calling to get your rocks off on Mitch--”

Jamie just knew she was going to hang up. He couldn’t let that happen. He wasn’t sure how, but he was almost certain this woman knew something. He’d have to take a risk and tell her the truth. At least part of it, anyway.

“Wait. Please. I’m not one of Burke’s clients. I just need to talk to Mitchell. I think maybe he might have known something about a friend of mine. I promise I won’t take up much of his time.”

Dillon was leaning against the cinder block wall, watching Jamie with concern, but not saying anything. As for the woman on the other end of the line, she’d gone so quiet Jamie thought sure she’d hung up. Finally, she said, “Okay, then. If what you say is true, tell me the name of this so-called friend you’re trying to find out about? I know most of Mitch’s friends, and if he knows your buddy, then I can almost guarantee I know him, too.”

Jamie took a deep breath. “His name was Ben Lewis.”

Jamie heard a loud noise and them a kind of scrambling, the sound of the phone being dropped. When the woman picked back up, she sounded as angry as ever, but there was a new element in her voice: fear. She said, “Is this some kind of sick joke? And what do you mean his name was Ben Lewis? Has something happened to Ben?”

Jamie’s heart started pounding in his chest. “Wait a minute. You knew Ben?”

“Of course I know him. Ben Lewis is my brother.”

{To Be Continued}



The Way You Say My Name Ch. 13



The narrow, white frame-house was nice enough, Dillon supposed, but there was something about this whole thing that just didn’t feel right. Ben had a sister? If that was true, then why hadn’t Ben ever mentioned her to Jamie before? And where did Mitchell Harding fit into all this?

Jamie seemed to be having his own reservations, if his hesitancy to open the gate of the chain-link fence surrounding the property was any indication.

Dillon put his hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “We don’t have to do this, you know. We can always get back in the car and just go.”

Jamie shook his head. “I have to at least hear what this woman has to say.”

Dillon nodded, but didn’t say anything as he watched Jamie open the gate. He couldn’t say he understood, exactly, but this was Jamie’s call, and Dillon was either gonna support him in this or die trying.

Jamie pushed the gate open and walked up the cracked sidewalk, Dillon following directly behind. After a moment’s pause, Jamie stepped up onto the two-step stoop and rang the bell.

Dillon did a double take when he saw the woman who answered the door. Though she was obviously older than Ben, there was no doubt this lady was his sister. She was shorter than her brother, maybe five-four, five-five, but the similarities were undeniable. Same inky-black hair-- though hers was worn in a pixie-like bob--same chocolate brown eyes. But unlike the warmth Dillon had seen in Ben’s eyes every time they rested on Jamie, this lady’s eyes held nothing but distrust, maybe even a hint of contempt. Nevertheless, she opened the door a little bit wider and allowed them entrance.

“I’m Lily Harding. You’re James Walker, Ben’s friend?”

Jamie stuck out his hand. “That’s right. And this is my partner, Dillon Carver.”

She shook his hand, but raised her brows. “Partner? Ain’t you a little young to be a cop?”

Jamie shook his head. “I’m not. Not a cop, I mean.” Dillon could tell that Jamie was getting flustered. He always stammered a little bit when he got upset. Dillon reached for Jamie’s left hand at the same time as Jamie said, “When I say that Dillon is my partner, I mean we’re together. He’s my boyfriend.”

Lily looked down at their joined hands and snorted. “Fags. I should’ a known, you being friends of Ben’s and all. It figures.”

Dillon started to say something, but Jamie stopped him with a shake of the head. Turning back to Lily, Jamie said, “I take it you didn’t like the fact that Ben was gay.”

Lily sighed and led them into the box-shaped living room. “You might as well sit.” She waited while Jamie and 

Dillon got settled on a slip-covered sofa and then took a seat herself on a nearby recliner. Facing them with more than a little animosity, she said, “To answer your question, no I ain’t happy that Ben thought he was a homo, but I can see why he believed he was, after what Burke forced him to do.” She curled her heavily painted lips. “Fucking guys for money from age thirteen on. I mean, it’d been okay if he’d been fucking girls or something, but guys humping guys just ain’t natural. It’s no wonder Ben thought he was queer. Thank God Mitch knows the score. He knows he ain’t bent.” 

Dillon couldn’t remember ever wanting to get out of a place any worse than he did this one. Jamie showed no signs of budging, though. He leaned forward and said, “Look, Ms. Harding, I really need to speak with Mitchell. If you could just tell me how to get in touch with him--”

“I ain’t heard from Mitch in three days. He gave the cops my name and address when Burke bit the big one, but he ain’t been around. Don’t have no use for me, I guess. Some brother he is, huh?”

Brother? That’s when Dillon spoke up. “Wait a minute. I thought Mitchell was you husband. You mean he’s your brother, too? Ben’s brother?”

Lilly gave Dillon a look that suggested she didn’t find him especially bright. “That’s what I just said, ain’t it? Half-brother, though. Me, Ben, and Mitch all had the same mama, but God knows who our daddies was. Mama got around, if you know what I mean. Mitch and me, we go by Harding, Mama’s maiden name. Ben’s last name was Lewis, after the guy the old lady was married too for five minutes before the kid was born. Not that her husband was Ben’s daddy. That honor could’ve gone to any one of Mama’s regular johns.” She narrowed her eyes and trained them on Jamie. “You said on the phone somethin’s happened to Ben?”

Dillon could tell that Jamie was searching for the right words, but he really didn’t think Lily Harding was gonna take the news of Ben’s death all that hard. Despite her name, fragile little flower, she wasn’t. Finally, Jamie said, “I don’t know how to tell you this, but Ben was killed.”

The only real show of emotion Lily displayed when informed of her brother’s death was a brief closing of her eyes, and Dillon was pretty sure that particular show of respect was done more for their benefit than in any real display of grief. After a second, she opened them back up and said, “So, what happened to him? One of his fuck buddies whack him or what?”

Dillon could see how shaken Jamie was by Lily’s reaction, but he was proud of the way Jamie managed to hide it. “The working theory is that Ben was killed by a drunk driver.”

“And you ain’t buying it?”

Jamie returned Lily’s stare, keeping his gaze level. “No, I’m not. That’s why I wanted to talk to Mitchell. I thought maybe he could help me out. I had no idea Ben and Mitchell were brothers. As far as I knew, Ben didn’t have any family.”

“Yeah, well, I ain’t surprised the ungrateful little bastard never told you about us. I swear, you bust your tail to raise a guy, and then he turns his back on you like you was dirt.”

Jamie leaned forward on the couch. “What do you mean, ‘you raised Ben?’ I thought he was placed into foster care early on.”

Lily shook her head. “Nah. Ben was ten when our old lady snagged herself the wrong john one night and ended up in the morgue instead of the local no-tell-motel. I was twenty, so the state turned Ben over to me. Since Mitch was just twelve, I got saddled with him, too. You don’t know how many times I wished he’d been older so he could have gotten his ass a job and supported us.”

Dillon narrowed his eyes. “So you could be what, a stay-at-home-mom?”

Lily curled her lip. “Hey, I worked. Been turning tricks for years. My old lady, she had enough regular customers to pay the rent. I guess you could say I inherited ‘em when she died. Like I say, though, it paid the rent and nothin’ else. That’s when I found a guy willing to give all three of us a little extra employment, if you know what I mean.”

Dillon had a sick feeling he knew exactly what she meant. “You’re a drug dealer.”

“You could say that, but my old boss, Slick, called us somethin’ else.” She scrunched her brows. “What was that he called us again? Oh yeah. Recreational pharmacists.” Lily giggled. “I always liked the sound of that. I was damn good at it, too. Made more sales than anyone else on Slick’s roll.” Her face darkened. “I would still be doin’ it if Ben hadn’t fucked up right after his eleventh birthday and gotten all our asses busted.”

Jamie looked like he was gonna lose it. Dillon reached over and gave his hand a tight squeeze just as Jamie croaked out, “You’re blaming an eleven year old for getting you busted as a drug dealer?”

Lily shrugged. “Why not? It was his fault. Dumb fuck sold a quarter ounce of blow to an undercover cop, right here in his own damn neighborhood. The cops raided our house and found enough to get me for felony possession. I went to jail, and Mitch and Ben went to a boy’s home. More than one, in fact. From what I heard, every time the state placed ‘em, they did something stupid and got sent to another home. It figures. Neither one of my brothers was overly blessed in the brain department.”

Dillon heard Jamie mutter something to the effect of, “Yeah, right, like you’ve got so many brains it hurts.” When Lily turned to him and said, “What did you say,” Jamie looked her dead in the eye and came out with, “I said, how did they end up with Burke?”

“Oh, that. When Ben was thirteen and Mitch was fifteen, Burke got a couple of openings at his place. Burke only took boys. Said with him being a single guy and all, it was easier to relate. That was so much bullshit. Everybody knew that he was pimpin’ his boys out, but nobody could do or prove a damn thing.” She threw up her hands. “But whatcha gonna do, right? I mean, I was still in the slammer with two years to go on my sentence. Ben and Mitch started to work for the guy, and I served my time. Just as I finished up my stint, Ben ran off from Burke’s place and was put with that bitch over in Reed. Mitch, he stayed with Burke, but he swore it was just for the money, and I believed him. At least, I did at the time. I mean, why else would he keep whoring for Burke, even after he turned eighteen? Hell, Mitch was still living in Burke’s house when the guy got wasted.”

One thing in Lily’s last statement made Dillon more than a little bit curious. “Why did you call Ben’s foster mother over in Reed a bitch?”

Lily stretched her legs out in front of herself and crossed her ankles. “Because she was, that’s why. When I got out a jail, I went straight to Reed to see my brother. It took some doing, but I was able to hunt him down. At first the bitch wouldn’t even let me in to see him. Like I need her to tell me when I can see my own flesh and blood. Ben finally came outside and told her it was okay, that he was gonna talk to me.” She pursed her lips. “A fat lot of good it did. Witch had him brainwashed, already. Little bastard told me he was queer, and that he wanted to stay where he was instead of comin’ back with me. Said he felt accepted.” She snorted again. “Like I didn’t accept him. Give me a break. Anyway, that’s when I slapped his face. I only wanted to knock some sense into him, but that old bitch--that Nora lady--came running out onto the porch. Threatened to call the cops if I ever came back. That’s when Ben told me he never wanted to see me again.” Lily slapped her fist against her chest. “That hurt, ya know? After everything I did for him. All I wanted was to have him back in my life.”

Jamie gave her a look of pure disgust. “Oh yeah. And the money the state would have paid you for taking care of him again meant nothing to you.”

Lily chose to ignore that. Or maybe she just didn’t have sense enough to know when she was being insulted. Dillon wasn’t sure which. He only knew he had to get Jamie out of there. He also knew there were a few more questions that had to be answered before Jamie would be satisfied enough to leave. Dillon said, “So what about Mitchell? You say he refused to leave Burke’s and come to stay with you?”

The look of self-pity on Lily’s face was nauseating. “Yes. That cock sucker chose to stay with Burke. Swore he couldn’t leave, but never would tell me why, outside of saying the money was too good to pass up. And he did send a good chunk of that cash to me every month. Enough so’s I was able to quit working and buy this house.” She actually smiled over that one. “And since I knew Mitch wasn’t really a fag, just gay-for-pay, me and him was cool. He helped me out with my, uh . . . expenses, and I didn’t ask no questions. All that changed a few days ago, though. The minute Burke died, it was like Mitch just disappeared. He gave the cops my number, but I ain’t heard from him ‘cept once or twice, and then only by phone. Like I told you, the last time he called was three days ago. He said that he was gonna take some time away from here now that Burke was dead. I ain’t heard from him, and I ain’t got no way to get in touch with him.” Lily lowered her voice and leaned forward. “I bought his excuse about staying with Burke for the money at the time, but the way Mitch’s acted since Burke died has me wondering if maybe that was all a batch of lies. I’m startin’ to think Burke was holding something over Mitch’s head. Something to force Mitch to keep turning tricks for him. From what I hear, Mitch was pretty damn popular. Neither Burke nor that partner of his would want to lose the money Mitch was pulling in.”

Jamie increased the pressure on Dillon’s hand. “Burke had a partner? You mean a boyfriend? A lover?”

“Nah. Burke might’ve made a living off teenage boys, but he didn’t screw ‘em. Burke was straight. In fact, I heard he had a thing for girls. Young ones, like fifteen or sixteen.”

Dillon shivered. And people like his folks had the nerve to call him and Jamie perverts for being gay. Doug and Angela Carver had never even seen a real pervert. Dillon felt dirty just hearing all that stuff about Burke. He wanted to get out, and get out fast. But first, one more question. “What did you mean by Burke’s partner, then?”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Just what I said. Burke had a partner, as in a business partner. You know, a guy who got him customers and helped him run his boys. I don’t think the two of them were in cahoots anymore, though. Last I heard, Burke was trying to cut the other guy out, but I never heard why.” Lily pointed one long finger in Dillon and Jamie’s general direction. “If you ask me, he’s the guy who popped Burke. Yep, Burke’s partner is the one the cops should be lookin’ for.”

      #

Dillon didn’t say much on the way back to the hotel, nor did he speak more than a few words during checkout, something Jamie was grateful for. His head was still spinning from Lily’s revelations, not to mention the fact that there even was a Lily. How could Ben have had an entire family without Jamie ever even knowing? Obviously Nora had known about Lily, and Jamie was guessing she’d known about Mitchell as well. Why hadn’t Nora said anything to him? And what about Brandon? He’d read Ben’s file. Did Bran know about Ben’s family as well? Jamie felt like the whole world was keeping secrets. The question then became, how to get to the bottom of those secrets without exposing his own. 

The silence between Dillon and Jamie continued until they were about five miles from the Reed city limits. Finally, and without taking his eyes off the road, Dillon said, “If you don’t get whatever it is you’re thinking about off your chest, it’s gonna eat you alive.”

Jamie sagged within the confines of his seatbelt and placed his head in his hands. “I know, but I’m not sure what to say. My head is still spinning. I mean, I can understand why Ben never told me about Lily. If I had a sister like her, I’d want to forget she existed, too. But what about Mitchell? Why didn’t Ben ever mention his brother?”

Dillon shrugged. “Maybe Mitch is as bad as Lily. Maybe Ben just wanted to make a fresh start when he came to Reed. No family, nothing.”

Jamie had thought about that, too, but something Lily said told him otherwise. “Lily said she felt like Burke was holding something over Mitchell’s head, something that made him keep turning tricks.”

Dillon caught on. “You think Mitch was the one who cut off ties with Ben? Because of whatever it was Burke had on him?”

“Yeah. I can’t say for sure why I feel that way, I just know that I do.”

They’d reached the town proper, but instead of turning right to go towards Aunt Sadie’s, Dillon hung a left. Jamie looked at him with mild surprise. “Where are you going?”

“If you’re right, and Nora did know about Mitch, she might be able to tell us something about his relationship with Ben.”

“That’s a pretty big ‘if,’ Dillon. Especially since Nora didn’t bother to mention Mitch or Lily when she told us about Ben’s will.”

Dillon didn’t waver from his course. “It’s up to you, but I say we have nothing left to lose. We gave Lily our numbers and told her to ask Mitch to call us. That doesn’t mean she will, though, and you know it. Short of tracking Mitch down, I’d say Nora is our best bet.” 

Jamie didn’t argue. Though he doubted Nora would be able--or willing--to tell them anything, Dillon was right in saying they had nothing to lose.

The drive to Nora’s was brief, and before Jamie knew it, Dillon was angling the Lumina into the gravel drive in front of Nora’s house, an old, rambling farmhouse more suited to a large family than a single woman. A lump rose in Jamie’s throat as he made his way out of the car and towards the house. Nora’s was the only real home Ben had ever known. Jamie owed her for making the last years of Ben’s life bearable. For that reason alone, Jamie was loath to cause her any more pain. But for some unknown reason, Jamie was certain Ben’s brother held the key to finding out about the remaining money. And if Nora knew something that might help them, Jamie had to know.

Jamie was surprised to see the front porch littered with empty packing boxes, and, from the look on Dillon’s face, it came as a surprise to him, too. Jamie raised his hand to knock, only to have the door swing open under his hand. Giving it a nudge, he called out, “Hello?” and stepped inside.

Nora was standing in the middle of the living room wearing a pair of ripped jeans and a stained, short-sleeved t-shirt. Her long, dark hair was covered with a cheerful blue bandana, and she was surrounded by more packing boxes, each one filled to the brim with books, knick-knacks, and the like. She turned and smiled at them as they came in. 

“Well, hey there, you two. Come on in.” Nora wiped at a smudge of dust on her nose and indicated a pair of straight-back chairs sitting off to the side. “Good thing the movers aren’t here yet. I was gonna have them load those chairs first thing.” Jamie started towards one of the chairs but then hesitated. Nora saw his reluctance and gave him an encouraging nod. “It’s okay. Just ignore the mess and have a seat.” Nora waited until Jamie and Dillon were both seated before plopping down on a nearby stool. “Now, tell me all about your visit with Lily.”

Jamie could feel the blood leaching out of his face. He looked to Dillon and saw an exact mirror of his own surprise. Clearing his throat, Jamie said, “You know about that?”

If Nora was upset, she hid it well. “You bet your buns I do. Lily Harding called here not an hour ago, ranting and raving about her poor, dead brother and how she never even had a chance to say good-bye.” Nora crossed her work-boot clad ankles and curled her lips. “Like she’d really have come to Ben’s memorial. The only thing Ben and Mitch ever were to that woman was a meal ticket.”

So she did know about Mitch. Jamie was searching for a way to broach that very subject when Nora beat him to it. “Now, what’s this I hear about the two of you looking for Mitch?”

Dillon glanced at Jamie before saying, “Lily told you about that, too?”

Nora crossed her arms over her chest. “Uh huh. She said something about you wanting to squeeze Mitch for information, but she never gave any indication what it was you were looking for. What I want to know is, what kind of information are you after, and why?”

Jamie thought back to the lie Megan had spun for Detective Kilgore in Chicago. It seemed like as good an excuse as any. “I guess I just wanted to put together a more complete picture of Ben’s life, Nora. You know, his life before he came to Reed. I thought the more I knew about him, the better able I would be to let him go. I’d hoped maybe his friends and family could tell me a little bit more about him.”

For a full minute, Nora studied him as if she was gauging the truth in his statement. Jamie was just starting to sweat when Nora’s expression shifted from one of suspicion to one of pity. “Jamie, Ben’s life before he came here was a living hell. Nothing you find out about Ben’s early years is going to help you get over his death. That kind of thing takes time, and time alone.” Nora narrowed her eyes. “And as for that no account family of his, I don’t imagine either Mitch or Lily could come up with a kind word between them. Not for Ben, in any case.”

Jamie nodded. “I gathered as much with Lily. I mean, she told us about going to jail and all, and about coming here to Reed to see Ben when she got out.” Jamie stared down at an imaginary speck of lint on his pants leg and did his best to keep his tone casual. “The one thing Lily didn’t say anything about, though, was Ben’s relationship with his brother.”




The Way You Say My Name Ch. 13



“That’s because there was no relationship. Not since Ben came to Reed, anyway.” Nora sighed. “Poor Ben tried for weeks after he came here to get in touch with his brother, but Mitch refused all of Ben’s calls and letters. It was almost like Mitch was determined to cut Ben out of his life.” Nora clicked her tongue. “A real shame, that, especially since I got the feeling the two of them were pretty close at one time.”

Jamie slanted his eyes towards Dillon, giving him a wordless I-told-you-so. Everything Nora just said seemed to confirm Jamie’s suspicions. But what was Jamie supposed to do with the little bit of information he’d managed to gather? He still didn’t know where the rest of the money had come from, and he could hardly go to Brandon with a handful of half-formed theories and twenty-thousand dollars that came from God only knew where. Oh, shit. Brandon.

Jamie took a deep breath. “Uh, Nora, could you do me a favor?”

The genuine affection in Nora’s eyes made Jamie feel even guiltier than he already did. “Sure, honey. I’ll do anything I can for you. You know that.”

Jamie swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Could you, um, not mention my visit with Lily to the sheriff?”

Nora’s gaze sharpened. “Jamie, you’re not in any kind of trouble are you?”

“No, no. Nothing like that. It’s just that Brandon thinks I’m not dealing with Ben’s death all that well. He might, uh, worry, that’s all.” Jamie darted another quick glance in Dillon’s direction, daring him to argue.

Nora must not have seen it. Her voice held a slight quiver when she said. “I won’t tell him, sweetheart, but Brandon’s right when he says you have to move forward. Why do you think I’m selling the house?”

Until that moment, Jamie had been too wrapped up in the mystery surrounding Ben and his family to really comprehend the meaning behind the packing boxes and the misplaced furniture. Nora’s words brought it all home to him with startling clarity. “You’re selling your place? Why?”

Nora gave him a sad half-smile. “Because it’s time. I inherited this house from my first husband, Jack. He was killed in a boating accident not long after we married.” Jamie saw the tears forming in her eyes, but felt powerless to stop them as Nora continued. “I lived here with my second husband, Lyle, for five amazing years.” She took in a ragged breath and blinked away the wetness. “When colon cancer took Lyle from me, I thought seriously about selling, but by that time, the application Lyle and I had filled out together to become foster parents had been approved. I figured I’d just forget about it, but, according to the city of Reed, I was still considered a good choice to be a foster mom, even with Lyle gone. I’d just gotten my real estate license, so I was stable and employed.” Nora shook her head. “I’m sorry to say that with all the kids in the system these days, stable and employed are the two chief requirements. Love seems to have been pushed further down on the list.” The sad smile returned. “But love is the one thing I did have. I was bound and determined to take all the love I had stored in my heart from first Jack and then Lyle and spill it out onto as many foster children as the state would give me.” Nora chuckled. “Then the powers that be sent me Ben, and all those plans for more kids went right out the window.”

Dillon turned in his chair. “Why did taking Ben mean you couldn’t bring in more kids, too?”

“Because, Dillon, Ben was so damaged and hurt he needed all the love and attention I could give him. How could I possibly give him what he needed while trying to do the same thing for other kids?” Nora shook her head. “No. The minute I laid eyes on Ben, trying to look so tough even while he was dying on the inside from the abuse he’d suffered--” Her voice broke. “Anyway, the minute I saw him, I knew he’d be my only one. My only son.” Nora’s tears flowed freely. “I never minded, you know. Ben was all the family I needed. I know he had his faults, but I wouldn’t have traded him for ten kids, even if the other ten were my own blood kin.” Nora yanked at the hem of her shirt, using it to dry her eyes and furthering the smudges of dirt on her face. “But Ben is gone now, guys, and I can’t stay here mourning him forever.” She stood up and brushed herself off. “That’s why I’ve decided to sell. And that’s also why I’ve got to get a move on. The movers I hired will be here for some of the furniture any minute now.”


Jamie and Dillon stood as well, following Nora’s lead. Jamie could understand her reasoning, but Nora was special to him and always would be, mostly because of Ben. Jamie needed to know he wasn’t losing her, too. “You aren’t moving too far away, are you?”

Nora crossed the room in two long-legged strides and wrapped Jamie in a fierce hug. “And leave my second favorite guy in the whole world? Are you kidding?” Nora pulled back and chucked Jamie under the chin. “No way. I bought a condo on the far side of town. I’ll be no more than a ten minute drive away from your Aunt’s house.” 

“A condo? You?” Somehow Jamie couldn’t picture free-spirited Nora sitting on a co-op board.

Nora swatted his arm. “Don’t sound so surprised. After years of selling the things, I finally bought one, is all. I can’t say I’m going to live there for the rest of my life, but for now, anyway, I think a condo is just what I’m looking for.”

Dillon stepped up to Jamie’s side. “When will this place go on the market?”

“It isn’t going to.”

Jamie stared at her in confusion. “So you aren’t selling it, then?”

Nora patted his cheek. “It’s already sold, Jamie. A few days ago, a guy came into my office looking for, and I quote, ‘A fixer-upper with plenty of room and a fair price.’” Nora glanced around the living room with its faded floral wallpaper and moth-eaten carpet. “Let’s face it, boys, I love this place, but it’s a fixer-upper if ever I saw one. I think Jack once told me it was wired back in the nineteen-forties. The poor guy who bought this house is going to have to bring it up to code before he and his people can even move in.”

Jamie drew his brows together. “His people? What is he, a rock star?”

Nora laughed. “No, honey. The man who bought it, a guy named Blake Mathis, is going to turn this house into a shelter for victims of domestic violence. His focus is going to be on gay men who’ve been abused by their partners, though he assures me women will be just as welcome.” Nora shook her head as she scanned the room one more time. “I admire what he’s trying to do, but he’s going to have his work cut out for him with this house. And he can’t even get started until I clear all my junk out, which is going to take a few more days. Ben and I used the two downstairs bedrooms, and I do have most of that stuff already boxed up, but I have an entire upstairs to clean out still. Oh, and that reminds me, Jamie, what about Ben’s things?”

It took Jamie a minute to catch on. “You mean the stuff from his room?”

“Yes. He left it all to you. I figured maybe you could pick Ben’s car up one day next week. I know you can’t drive, so I was hoping Dillon could come and get it for you. Maybe your Aunt Sadie or Dillon’s brother could drop him off and then he could drive it to your house. I’d drive it over myself, but I don’t know how to drive a stick shift.” Nora laughed. “My first husband tried to teach me. Total disaster. Since then, I’ve stuck with automatics. Anyway, I’ll load the boxes into the car and you can pick them up all at the same time.”

Jesus, Ben’s stuff. Jamie hadn’t even thought about going through that. He doubted Ben had left any outright evidence of blackmail in his room. If that had been the case, Jamie was almost certain Nora would have found it and turned it over to Bran. That didn’t mean that Ben hadn’t left some clue, though. The trick now was to get to Ben’s things as soon as possible without making Nora suspicious.

“Nora, Dillon and I could load that stuff up in Dillon’s car and take it now. That’ll save you from having to lug it around.” 

Dillon must have been following Jamie’s train of thought because he chimed in with, “Yeah, Nora. If you’ll just tell me where it is, I can do that now.”

Nora waved them away, and Jamie’s hopes of going through Ben’s things anytime soon started to fade. “Don’t be silly, boys. It’s no trouble. Besides, none of the boxes are all that heavy. You can drop by sometime around the middle of next week. Oh, you can drive a stick, can’t you Dillon?”

Dillon nodded, and that was it. There was nothing Jamie could say from that point on without letting Nora know something was up. Jamie was simply going to have to wait it out. He only hoped there was something in Ben’s stuff that could help him. Jamie had the strangest feeling he was running out of time, but against what, he couldn’t say.

  *     *     *

The remainder of the weekend passed far more quickly than Jamie would have liked. The change in his relationship with Dillon was amazing, and even with the mystery surrounding Ben’s death and the money, Jamie’s heart was full to bursting with all the love and affection Dillon was sending his way. The two of them spent the rest of Saturday evening together, and would have spent the night together as well if Aunt Sadie had allowed it. Sleeping over in a hotel room some thirty minutes away was one thing, but, according to Sadie, having sex under her roof was another thing entirely. Jamie couldn’t fault her for it. She’d been far more accepting of his relationship with Dillon than most women of her generation would have been. He and Dillon would just have to use their time together as best they could. Dillon had wanted Jamie to go back to Heath’s apartment with him, but since Heath had the night off and Dillon slept on the couch, that was out of the question.

Not being able to spend the night together didn’t affect their waking moments, however. Sunday morning, Dillon surprised Jamie by picking him up and taking him to church. Though the church Jamie normally attended with Sadie didn’t openly condemn homosexual relationships, it still wasn’t the most gay affirming congregation in the world. For that reason, Jamie and Dillon chose to go the First Christian Church with the Nash family, even if it meant running into a less than thrilled Brandon. Thankfully, the butt chewing Jamie expected Brandon to give him turned out to be nothing more than a stern lecture on the merits of minding his own damn business. When the services were over, Jamie mentioned Brandon’s uncharacteristic restraint to Megan only to have her laugh and say, “Yeah, well, that’s because Nate threatened to cut him off for two weeks if he yelled at us.”

Jamie laughed. Like Nate could hold out that long himself. Jamie shook his head. He’d seen the way Nate and Bran looked at each other. Judging from the smoldering glances they exchanged when they thought no one was looking, Jamie was surprised Bran didn’t just bend Nate over the amen pew and have at it right there in church. Jamie understood, though. God knows he was dying to make love with Dillon again. Far from satisfying his hunger, that night in Chicago had only served to fuel Jamie’s need.

Jamie and Dillon did their best to convince Megan to go out to lunch with them after church, but she surprised them both by saying she had a date.

Dillon’s whistle echoed through the church foyer where the three of them stood. “Heath’s gonna freak when he finds out.”

Megan grinned, her blush matching the pretty pink color of her lace-trimmed Sunday dress. “He already knows.”

It was Jamie’s turn to whistle. “How did he take it?”

Megan laughed. “He was relieved. When Heath first asked me to go out with him, he was afraid I’d say no.”

Jamie and Dillon were both speechless. Speechless because Heath finally grew a brain and accepted the fact that he and Megan were made for each other. After kissing Megan goodbye and wishing her luck, Dillon and Jamie set out to make good use of the rest of their Sunday.

And make use of it, they did. From lunch at Hailey’s to an afternoon lounging on Sadie’s couch watching T.V., there wasn’t a minute that Jamie could recall when the two of them weren’t holding hands or cuddling in some fashion. But their time together slowly slipped away, and just as the night before, Jamie felt something akin to physical pain when Dillon kissed him goodnight and turned to go. The guy who wrote that song, “Love Hurts,” sure as hell knew what he was talking about. 

Jamie might have felt pain over the temporary separation, but Dillon’s reaction was closer to panic. Every time he left Jamie’s side, Dillon was plagued by the unreasonable fear that he’d never see Jamie again. He knew it was irrational, but there wasn’t a thing he could do to stop it. It was that fear that caused Dillon to throw his books into his locker Monday afternoon after school with a force that startled Megan and made her jump back three feet.

“Dillon, it’s not like Jamie’s riding home with an ax murderer. His Aunt Sadie picked him up, for crying out loud. What did you expect him to do, wait out here in the hall while we chair the student council meeting?”

“Yes. No. Damn, I don’t know.” Dillon closed his locker with an exaggerated slam. “I was hoping Jamie would be here for the meeting, too. Isn’t the G.S.A. helping out with all this prom stuff?”

Megan shook her head. “Not this one. The prom falls under the sole jurisdiction of the student council. I think it’s tradition. Though I did hear Morgan say he wants us to make it clear that the prom is open to all students and their dates, same sex couples included.”

“Uh huh. Speaking of dates, you taking my brother to said prom?”

Making Megan blush was getting too darn easy. She went pink all the way to the roots of her bright red hair. “I don’t know. It’s too soon to tell whether he even wants to see me again. We’ve only had one real date, you know.”

Dillon looped his arm around Megan’s shoulders as the two of them walked towards the conference room. “Meggie, I saw the look on Heath’s face when he came home last night. The guy was actually humming. Trust me, he’s gonna want to see you again.”

Megan only nodded, but the hopeful look in her eyes was impossible to miss. Instead of saying anything more about Heath, though, she turned the tables on Dillon. “Since you brought it up, what are your prom plans? You and Jamie gonna go together?”

“I hope so. I haven’t asked him yet, what with everything else going on.”

Megan stopped just outside the conference room door and turned to face him, still within the clasp of Dillon’s arm. “Does ‘everything’ include a night of hot steamy sex in that hotel room you shared?”

“It might.” Dillon couldn’t help what happened next. God save him, he actually giggled. Maybe that girlie lube Megan had given them had turned him into a woman, after all.

Megan was practically jumping up and down. “I knew it. The minute I saw you in church yesterday, I said to myself, ‘Self, there goes a man who just got laid.’” She leaned in closer. “So, how was it? Was it an all night monkey-sex fest?”

Dillon was trying his best to come up with an answer for that one when a shadow fell across the hall. He turned to see Dan Morgan standing not three feet away, wearing a three hundred dollar sweater paired with hand tailored slacks and taking in every word. When Morgan noticed Dillon looking at him, he grinned. “Please don’t delay your answer on my account, Dillon. Sounds like a good story if ever I heard one.”

Megan balked. “Mr. Morgan, I didn’t know you were standing there. I, um . . .”

Dillon took over. “Mr. Morgan, if it’s all the same to you, I’ll save the story for another time. I have to work this afternoon after the meeting, so I’d like to get started as soon as possible.”

The disappointed look on Morgan’s face made Dillon feel ill. “I suppose if we must, we must. Pity, that.” He waved one cashmere-covered arm towards the door and looked at Megan. “After you, Miss Nash. In fact, why don’t you call the other council members to order while I have a word with Dillon here?”

Dillon’s face must have shown his reluctance, because Morgan was quick with his reassurances. “I know you’re in a hurry, Dillon, and I promise this won’t take long.”

Dillon didn’t want to hear anything Morgan had to say, especially not after their meeting in the principal’s office and that little speech at Ben’s memorial. But Dillon also knew he didn’t really have a choice. Nodding to Megan, Dillon waited until she’d gone into the conference room and closed the door behind her before turning back to Morgan. “Yes, sir?”

Morgan moved towards him, standing so close Dillon could practically feel Morgan’s breath on his cheeks. “I understand that James and Megan enjoyed an impromptu visit to a Chicago jail this past weekend.”

The hairs on the back of Dillon’s neck stood on end. “How did you know about that?”

Morgan smiled and leaned in so that they were nose to nose. “Oh, let’s just say I have a friend or two down at the police department nice enough to keep me informed about what goes on with my students.” Morgan’s voice dropped an octave but lost none of its greasy charm. “I like James, Dillon, and I think you should know that he’s fooling around with things that could get him . . . hurt. I’m not including Megan in this because I suspect that she was only at that dead man’s house because James dragged her into it.” Morgan stepped back just a bit and looked directly into Dillon’s eyes. “If I were you, I’d make sure James backed of this little investigation of his.”

Dillon’s mouth went dry. “Mr. Morgan, is that a threat?”

Morgan did his best to seem surprised by the question. “A threat? Of course not. It makes no difference to me what happens to James, but you seem to care, so I thought I’d give you a heads up. Consider it friendly advice.” And before Dillon could say anything else, Morgan opened the door and entered the conference room, leaving Dillon no choice but to follow.

Morgan’s so-called “friendly advice” rang in Dillon’s ears as he took a seat next to Megan and listened to the seemingly endless string of updates and reports on everything from the prom’s location to the merits of decorating with Mylar instead of crepe paper. All Dillon wanted to do was get this meeting over with, work his shift at the drugstore, and get to Jamie. Dillon wasn’t sure how--or if--Morgan was connected to Ben and Burke, but if Morgan was trying to scare him with his cryptic warnings about Jamie, it sure as hell worked. Dillon was terrified, first that something would happen to Jamie, and next that Dillon would be powerless to stop it when it did.

When the last committee member was done presenting the final issue--something about the music that Dillon only half-way heard--Morgan took the podium and said, “Once again, ladies and gentleman, thank you for putting your time and effort into this project. I have no doubt this year’s prom will be the best one Plunkett has ever had. As you kids are fond of saying, the prom is gonna be a real killer.”

Dillon prayed to God that the prom would be the only killer he and Jamie came in contact with, but somewhere deep inside, he doubted it would be.

      #

Dillon thanked the gods of scheduling that he was down for a short shift, getting off work at seven instead of his usual nine o’clock. Dillon’s plan--one he’d shared with Jamie during a hasty on-break phone call--was to run home, take a quick shower, and then spend the rest of the evening (the time until Sadie kicked him out for the night, that is) with Jamie over at his place. The minute Dillon stepped into Heath’s apartment and took a look at his brother’s face, though, that plan was shot to Hell.

Heath, still wearing his uniform, was sitting in his ratty old recliner. His face was ashen, and as soon as Dillon walked in the door, he looked up and said, “We got trouble, kid.”




The Way You Say My Name Ch. 13



It was on the tip of Dillon’s tongue to say, “So what else is new,” but he stopped himself and instead said, “What kind of trouble?”

Heath leaned forward and grabbed a yellow piece of paper from the coffee table. “According to the manager of these apartments, I violated my lease by failing to inform her when you moved in here. Apparently, someone called her this morning and told her all about our new living arrangements.” Heath snorted and tossed the paper back down on the table. “Ten bucks says we have our illustrious parents to thank for that one.”

Dillon sank down on the couch. “What does violating the lease mean, exactly?”

Heath pointed towards the paper again. “According to that notice, I can either rectify the violation--namely kicking you out, which ain’t gonna happen--or I can consider myself on a fifteen-day notice.” Heath leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “In short, Dillon, it means we’re being evicted.”

    {TO BE CONTINUED}   



The Way You Say My Name Ch. 14



Douglas Carver looked up from his desk as Dillon came barreling into the oak-paneled office first thing the next morning. His father looked almost frightened by the sheer rage coursing through Dillon’s veins, but Dillon could have cared less. It was time he and his dad had a little chat.

It didn’t take Doug long to recover from his initial surprise. “Good morning, Dillon. Won’t you take a seat?”

Dillon stopped just inches from where his father sat. “I don’t think you want me to take a seat, Douglas. If I did, I’d probably shove it up your self-righteous ass.”

Doug crossed his hands in front of himself and looked Dillon directly in the eye. “I take it this is about your unfortunate eviction.”

Dillon could barely see his father through the red haze of anger clouding his vision. “You’re damn right it is.”

Douglas nodded, amazing Dillon with the cool, calculated grace contained in that one action. “While I understand your upset, son, I think perhaps once I’ve made my offer, you’ll calm down a bit and realize that I did what I had to do. You really left me no choice.”

God, the guy was unbelievable. “I can promise you right now, Douglas, I’m not interested in anything you have to say.”

Doug raised his brows. “First of all, you will address me as ‘Dad’ or ‘Father.’ You will show me the respect I deserve.”

Oh yeah, like that was gonna happen. “I don’t have a dad or a father. I have a sperm donor who thinks that one little contribution gives him the right to run my life.”

A muscle in Doug’s jaw started to twitch, but Dillon had to hand it to him. Doug reigned in his temper. 

“Call me whatever you like, son, but the fact remains that I am your father, and I have something I’d like to say. Will you sit down now and listen to me?”

Dillon shook his head. “I’ll stand.”

Doug was noticeably irritated, but he didn’t put any of that frustration into his next statement. “Whatever you say. Anyway, here’s the deal.” Doug sat up straight in his chair, looking into Dillon’s eyes again. “Your mother and I have decided to forgive you and allow you to come back home and live with us.”

Dillon was sure his father had to be joking. “You’ve decided to forgive me?”

Doug nodded. “Yes, as a matter of fact, we have. Your mother misses you, and I want to make her happy. The two of us put our heads together and came up with a solution to this little problem of ours.” Doug reached into his desk drawer, and, to Dillon’s sheer amazement, pulled out a set of index cards. The fucker had actually made notes. Bastard. He knew Dillon would come charging in here the minute he found out about the eviction. His father had played him, and, like an idiot, Dillon had fallen right into his game.

Doug arranged the cards in order on his desk and said, “Now, before your mother and I agree to take you back in, you should be aware that we’ve altered a few of our rules to reflect the recent changes in your personality and behavior.” Doug cleared his throat as if he were getting ready to present a pre-trial motion to the court. “Number one, you will have no contact whatsoever with James Walker. Any such contact will result in your immediate removal from our property.”

God help him, but Dillon was actually finding this funny. He leaned his hip against the corner of his dad’s desk and played along. “That’s number one, huh?”

Doug took Dillon’s question for interest in his new plan and warmed to his task. “Yes, well, it might not be easy to stay away from Walker at first, given the fact that, at present, you’re a pervert, but I believe in time you’ll come to see the error of your ways. Which brings me to number two. I’ve scheduled an appointment for you with a man by the name of Dr. Henderson over in Chicago. He’s one of the world’s leading de-gayer’s. Now, I’ve spoken to him, and he believes that with the proper therapy and medication, he can bring you around to the right way of thinking.” 

“Oh, I’ll just bet he does.” The guy sounded like a nutcase. “Any other rules you need to discuss with me, Doug?”

Douglas winced at the informal address but kept scanning the list, anyway. “Let’s see. Other than your new, seven-thirty curfew, there’s just one other thing.” Douglas looked long and hard at his son before continuing with, “You have to agree to file charges against Brandon Nash and his so-called husband for molesting you.”

Dillon fought the urge to vomit. “Brandon and Nate never touched me, and you know it.”

Douglas shrugged. “Doesn’t matter whether they did it or not. I think with the proper coaching, you could convince a jury they did.”

“I get it. You want me to lie.”

Doug shook his head. “Don’t think of it as lying, son. I’m sure the two of them have molested countless young boys in their lifetimes. You’ll be doing the rest of the world a favor by getting them off the streets. Anyway, those are my rules.” Doug looked down at his watch. “You’ve already missed an hour’s worth of school, but if we leave now, we can go down to the city police department, file charges against the sheriff and company, and have you back to school in time for your third period class.”

Dillon had heard enough. “So, those are the rules, huh?” When Doug nodded, Dillon said, “Okay, then. Let me tell you my rules.” He came forward and leaned over the desk, more or less towering over his dad. “Let’s start with rule one, since it’s the only rule I have. Stay the fuck away from me.” 

“Now look here--”

Dillon whipped up his hand and stuck one long finger in his father’s face. “No, you look. Take a good look at me, Doug. Look at this big fag you brought into the world and listen close to what I have to say. If you come near me or my family again, I can promise you, you won’t like the consequences.”

Doug blanched, but he kept his voice even. “Family, you say? Need I remind you, boy, I am your family.” 

“The hell you are. My family is Jamie. He and I are going to start a life together, just as real as the life you’ve carved out for yourself with Angela.” Dillon paused, thinking about his own words. “No, scratch that. What Jamie and I have is more real, because we’re honest. Honest with ourselves--and the world--about who we are. I love Jamie more than I ever thought I had it in me to love, and I swear before God, if you do one thing to hurt him, to cause him pain in any way, I’ll knock you into next week and then kick your ass again on Thursday.”

Doug’s self-control had reached it’s limit. “You can’t threaten me.” 

Dillon moved back from the desk. “I believe I just did.” Dillon started for the door, but turned back around when he heard his father’s voice.

Doug was standing behind his desk, a look of panic on his face. “Wait. What am I going to tell your mother? She was counting on me to get you back home and into therapy.”

How pathetic. “Tell her the truth. Tell her she married a spineless asshole.” And before Doug could say another word, Dillon left the office--and his childhood--behind.

  #



Dillon closed the phone book with an audible snap. Eleven more days and he’d officially be homeless. Not that any of the landlords and apartment managers in the greater Reed area cared. All they saw was an eighteen year old kid with no credit rating to speak of. Of course, Heath insisted the two of them were gonna find a new place together, but Dillon wasn’t having it. His brother had already done more for him than Dillon could ever repay. Dillon wasn’t about to let Heath lose his home on top of all that. No, Dillon would just have to find a place of his own.

He leaned back into the couch cushions and checked the clock. Nine-thirty. He’d worked another short shift and had planned on spending the evening with Jamie. Dillon had to admit, he was disappointed and a little bit hurt when Jamie told him he had a few things he needed to get done and therefore couldn’t see Dillon that night. Dillon hated to voice what he was feeling, but the truth was, he was scared. For the first time since leaving his parents house--and especially since that confrontation with his father--Dillon realized just how alone he was.

Oh, Jamie, Megan, and the rest had rallied around him when they heard that he and Heath were being tossed out, but there really wasn’t anything anybody could do about it. No, it was up to Dillon to solve his own problems, to sort out his own mess. The question was, how?

One good thing to come out of Dillon’s predicament was that his impending eviction temporarily put a halt to Jamie’s “investigation” into Ben’s death and the money. Jamie was too worried about Dillon and his situation to do more than raise his eyebrows when Dillon told him about Morgan’s weird threats before the prom committee meeting. Dillon was sure the reprieve was only temporary, and that as soon as things calmed down, Jamie would be back in action and more determined than ever to find the truth. Still, Dillon was going to enjoy it while it lasted. Even Nora--albeit unknowingly--had helped to delay Jamie’s search. She’d hit a snag in the moving process and had postponed the pick-up of Ben’s car and possessions by several days. Jamie wasn’t happy about the wait, but, again, worry over Dillon’s living arrangements kept him more or less silent about it. 

Heath came through the door a few minutes later and headed straight for the shower, leaving a trail of dirty clothes behind him. Dillon just shook his head and gathered them up, depositing the grungy garments in front of the washing machine. Hard to believe it, but Dillon was even gonna miss his brother’s slob-like tendencies. Amazing what a man could get used to.

Just as he came back to the couch, Dillon heard the shower cut off. Heath stepped out of the bathroom wearing nothing more than a towel clutched loosely around his hips. When he saw the phone book and cordless phone lying on the coffee table, Heath narrowed his eyes. “You weren’t apartment hunting again, were you?”

“Yeah, for all the good it did me. Seems I’m not a very good credit risk.”

“Dammit, Dillon, I told you we’d find a place together. In fact, a buddy of mine told me about another place to check into. Said it would be perfect for us.” Heath tugged at his slipping towel. “Since tomorrow’s Good Friday, they’ll probably be closed. I’ll have to wait until Monday to call, but it sounds like a good deal.”

Dillon shook his head, prepared to argue this one as long as he had to. “I told you, Heath, I’m not gonna let you give up your place for me. You’ve already done enough.”

“Look, little brother--” Heath was cut off when the door swung open so fast it shook on its hinges.

Megan came running in, her face flushed, her jacket half-on, half-off. She skidded to a halt as soon as she saw Heath. “Nice outfit.”

Heath did one of those all-over blushes, causing Dillon to burst out laughing as his brother ran to the bedroom to put on some clothes. Dillon looked at Megan and grinned. “Did you come over here just to embarrass the shit out of my brother, or was there something you wanted to talk about?”

“I have something I want to show you. No talking required.” Megan gave him a crooked grin. “Well, not by me, anyway.” When Dillon hesitated in his rise from the couch, Megan came forward with her customary impatience and grabbed his hand. “Come on, already. Everybody’s waiting.”

Everybody? Dillon followed Megan to the front door of the apartment, opening it to find a bevy full of Nash’s--namely Gale, Dean, Nate and Brandon--filling the outside corridor.

The first to speak was Brandon, who had his shoulder propped against a concrete post. “Heard you have a housing crisis on your hands here, kid.”

Dillon glared at Megan, causing Brandon to laugh. “Before you let Megan have it, Dillon, you should know that she’s not the one I heard it from.”

Dillon had a feeling he wasn’t gonna like this next part. “Who did you hear it from?”

“I heard it from good ole’ Dougie, himself. Seems when you didn’t take your dad up on his offer to have Nate and me charged as pedophiles, Douglas got pissed and decided to try pressing charges against us on his own. Yesterday, he told the chief of police, Ronald Skinner, that Nate and I had corrupted you, locked you up and violated you any number of ways.” Brandon grinned. “When Skinner got done laughing, he asked Doug for proof. Since Doug didn’t have any, Skinner threw him out on his ass, told Doug if he came back without proof to back up his allegations he’d throw him in jail for filing a false report.”

Heath came to the door then, fully clothed and wearing his coat. Dillon had been so wrapped up in what Brandon was saying, he hadn’t realized he’d forgotten his own jacket. He was just turning to go get it when Heath handed it over. “Here, take it, dumbass, before you freeze to death. I swear you need a keeper.” While Dillon shrugged into his coat, Heath turned to Bran. “Did I hear you mention our old man?”

“Yep. After trying to convince the chief of police that Nate and I are a couple of rapists, your dear old dad came to see me.”

Dillon groaned. “Oh no.”

Nate came up behind Brandon, slipping his arms around his husband’s waist. “Oh yes. I’d just gotten done with a double shift at the hospital and had come to the station to take Bran out for supper. I got there about the same time as Doug did.”

Brandon snorted. “And Doug is damn lucky Nate was there, too. I don’t think anyone else could have calmed me down when Doug started spouting about perverts and fornicators. The real kicker, though, came when Dougie started bragging about having you and Heath evicted. God, I wanted to hit that son-of-a-bitch.” Brandon glanced at his mother who was standing a few feet to his right. “Sorry, Mom.”

Gale waved him away. “Oh, please. I’ve heard worse talk than that at the Sunday dinner table.”

Dean snaked his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “She’s said worse than that at the Sunday table.”

Gale ever so gently stomped on her husband’s foot. “Anyway, when Brandon found out what happened, he called Megan to see if she knew anything about your impending eviction. I just happened to overhear the conversation.”

It was Megan’s turn to snort, the sound echoing around the corridor from where she stood between Dillon and Heath. “Overhead my butt. You were listening on the upstairs extension.”

Gale gave an unapologetic shrug. “A good mother always knows what’s going on with her children. And, Dillon, if you come and live with us, I promise never to listen in on your conversations. Well, almost never.”

Dillon’s head was spinning. “You want me to come and live with you?”

“Of course, Dean and I have plenty of room, and we think of you as family. We’d love to have you stay with us.”

Brandon clasped his hands with Nate’s. “Well, Nate and I want you to come live with us, and, no offense to my mother, but we won’t listen in to your phone calls, either.”

Gale was about to lodge a protest when the sound of an engine revving cut through the night air. Dillon looked towards the parking lot in time to see Sadie Bank’s big-ass old Cadillac come racing into a nearby space. Jamie jumped out of the front seat almost before the car even stopped. He all but flew to Dillon’s side. “What’s everybody doing here?”

Dillon reached out and grabbed Jamie’s hand, pulling him in closer. “They’ve come to solve my housing problem. They all want me to come and live with them.” The Nash collective nodded in agreement.

Before Jamie could respond, Sadie exited the car and glided up the sidewalk with all the grace of a queen. “A generous offer, no doubt, but a young man your age needs his own apartment, Dillon. You and Jamie will need privacy, especially if what you said to your father is true. Do you really think of yourself and Jamie as a family?”

Dillon heard Megan sigh in appreciation to that statement and saw Jamie’s eyes go wide. “Miss Banks, how did you know about that?”

“Enough of this Miss Banks nonsense. I’m Aunt Sadie to you. And as for how I know what was said, Adele Hopkins works in the office across the hall from your father’s office.” Sadie shook her gray head. “I’ve known her for years, and I can tell you, the woman couldn’t keep a secret if it was stapled to her butt.”

Gale chimed in with, “That’s the God’s honest truth.” 

Sadie said, “Yes, well, in this case, it worked to our advantage. The minute you left Douglas’s office, Dillon, Adele called me and spilled everything she’d heard. Did you know she has a photographic memory?”

“Um, no, I didn’t.” Dillon was still reeling. “How does that relate to me getting my own place?”

“Oh no, young man. You’ll answer my question first.” Sadie drew herself up to her full height, such that it was. Dillon would have smiled if she hadn’t looked so serious. “Did you or did you not threaten to kick your father’s sorry carcass if he ever laid a hand on your family, i.e. my Jamie?”

The look Jamie gave Dillon in the pale glow of the various apartment security lamps and porch lights was so sexy and so loving, Dillon felt his blood begin to heat. Without ever taking his eyes away from Jamie’s, Dillon said, “Yes, ma’am, I did say that, and what’s more, I meant it, too. Every word.”

Jamie leaned forward, and Dillon started to close his eyes, anticipating the kiss he hoped like hell was coming. Who cared if a large part of the Nash family, his brother, and Jamie’s aunt were watching? He was in love, and Dillon didn’t care who knew it. He heard Jamie whisper, “I feel the same way about you,” just as Aunt Sadie cleared her throat, breaking them apart as effectively as if she’d thrown cold water on them. When both of them turned back towards her, Sadie said, “That’s better. Now, as I was saying, a young couple just starting out needs their own place. When you told Jamie about the eviction, he came to see me straightaway. Of course, I already knew all about Douglas’s little plan thanks to Adele, but I didn’t tell Jamie that. No, I was waiting to see how he reacted. And I can tell you this, I didn’t have to wait long. Jamie begged me to let you move into the house with us, Dillon, but I’m afraid I can’t, in good conscience, do that.”

Dillon’s heart sank. “What do you mean? I thought you approved of Jamie and me.”

Again, Sadie shook her head. “You misunderstand me. I do approve of the relationship, but how would it look if I had two teenage boys shacking up under my roof?” Sadie motioned towards Jamie. “I told this one here as much, and the little devil threatened to move out. Said if you couldn’t stay, he wouldn’t stay, either.”

Oh no. First Heath was ready to give up his home for Dillon, and now Jamie. Dillon was touched, but there was no way he was gonna let this happen. “Aunt Sadie, please don’t be mad at Jamie. He didn’t mean it. He--”

Jamie yelled out, “Oh yes, I did,” just as Sadie threw up her hand and said, “Quiet, both of you.”

Dillon thought he heard Brandon or Nate chuckle--he never was sure which--but one glare in that direction from Sadie stopped the sound altogether. When quiet again reigned, Sadie said, “Mad at him? Why on earth would I be mad at him? I’m damned proud of my nephew. Proud of him for having the convictions to stand up for those he loves, and proud of him for sticking by you no matter what. Jamie is determined to live with you one way or another, Dillon, and I’m going to help him as much as I can without compromising certain principals. We put our heads together and came up with what I believe is a working solution. That’s why I’ve spent the last few hours helping Jamie clean out the carriage house.”

“The carriage house? You mean that old building behind your house?”

Sadie was filled to the brim with indignation. “Old building? I’ll have you know that old building, as you call it, was originally the property’s carriage house, built the same year as the house, eighteen-eighty-four. My Grandfather Banks converted the carriage house to a garage in the late twenties, and when my father inherited the house and grounds from his father in the early fifties, he sold off most of the property, but kept the carriage house and had the upstairs of the building renovated as a garage apartment, complete with an eat-in kitchen, full bath, and one nice-sized bedroom. My father rented the place--usually to young married couples just starting out--until he died in nineteen-eighty, six months after my mother passed away.” Sadie’s eyes got a bit misty with the memory. “A few months after Daddy’s death, the people who were renting the apartment bought a house and moved out. Since Jamie’s grandmother--my sister--had her hands full with Jamie’s unruly mother,” Sadie paused long enough to give Jamie a warm, apologetic smile, “I was the one elected to settle the estate. I was so busy, I just didn’t bother to rent the carriage house out again.” Sadie smiled. “Until now, that is. Jamie and I spent most of the afternoon and evening cleaning the place. There’s plenty of cleaning left to do, though. I’ve been in the apartment a few times since last it was rented, but not to do any real housekeeping.” She sighed. “It needs a little work before it’s strictly livable, but I think it will do nicely. And since the gas and electricity are tied in to the main house, we won’t have to wait for those dunderheads down at the power company to come out and hook it all up before you and Jamie can move in.”




The Way You Say My Name Ch. 14



Ever the contractor, Dean spoke up. “Meaning no disrespect, Miss Banks, but if that apartment has been empty for over twenty-years, there could be serious structural damage. I’m not sure the place is even safe for the boys to live in. It would need a complete inspection before I’d feel comfortable about it.”

Sadie looked down at her fashionable gold watch. “It’s just past eight now. Plenty of time for you to run over there and give it a good going over.”

Forty years of doing construction work--twenty-five of those spent owning his own company--had given Dean enough experience with shrewd customers like Sadie to know when he’d been had. “Miss Banks, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you set me up for that.”

Sadie was the picture of innocence. Gale laughed and kissed her husband on the cheek. “Well of course she did, dear. And you do make it so easy.”

Dean sighed. “I’ll call Wayne and see if he’ll meet me over there.” To Sadie, he said, “Wayne, my son, is also in the construction business. With the two of us working together, we can have the place inspected in half the time and, if no major repairs are needed, the boys should be good to go.”

Gale clicked her tongue. “They will not.” She looked to Sadie, “I’m assuming there’s no furniture up there, and if there is, it’s probably not in the best of shape after so long a time. Am I right?”

Sadie nodded. “There’s a small dinette set that seems to be in good shape, but the last tenants took everything else with them. The boys will need a couch, some chairs, and a bed.” She thought for a minute. “Wait, scratch that last one. They can have Jamie’s bedroom suite. Oh, and his television and computer. All the things from his room, in fact.”

Dillon listened in amazement as the entire assembly, save for himself, planned his new living arrangements. Brandon said, “I think I still have the living room suite Grandma and Grandpa Nash left when they moved down to Florida. When I bought the house from them, I bought new furniture, but the living room set was in such good shape, I stored it in the attic just in case any of us ever needed it. If I remember correctly, there’s a couch, loveseat, and two chairs.”

Heath shuffled nearer to Megan. “I’ve always wondered why the call them loveseats.”

Nate winked. “Because you have to sit so close together. Brandon and I sit on ours all the time.”

Gale ignored the lusty looks her son was giving Brandon. “Can we get back to the matter at hand, please? The boys are going to need more than just furniture. There’s dishes and towels, not to mention a good starter supply of groceries.” Gale slapped her forehead. “Speaking of food, they’re gonna need a refrigerator, too. Maybe even a new stove.”

Heath said, “I can get both of those. One of the guys I work with runs a used appliance shop on the side. He’ll cut me a good deal.”

“And as far as food goes, meals are included with rent.” Sadie laughed. “Jamie’s kitchen abilities are limited to microwaving pre-cooked dinners and heating frozen pizzas, so I thought perhaps the two of them could just eat with me in the mornings and at night. They’ll still need a refrigerator and stove though, for snacks and such.”

To Dillon’s amazement, Jamie seemed not to even notice that no one had even asked Dillon whether this was what he wanted or not. No, Jamie just seemed to be going right along with the rest of them, especially when he said, “Aunt Sadie, you never did tell me how much rent you’re gonna charge us.”

Sadie appeared to be thinking it over, but Dillon wasn’t fooled. If he knew Sadie, she’d had the rent issue sorted out before she ever even brought up the idea of renting the place to the two of them. “Well, lets see. I think my father rented the place for eighteen dollars a month back in nineteen-fifty-four, but that didn’t include meals and utilities, so I’m going to have to charge you and Dillon a little more.” She pursed her lips and paused for effect. “We’ll tack on ten more dollars for that, so I’d say twenty-eight dollars a month sounds fair. And since I’ll be paying your half, Jamie, Dillon’s part will be fourteen dollars, even.”

Gale said, “Sadie, that seems a little high to me. Didn’t you say the place needed some work?”

“You know, Gale, I didn’t even think about that. The wallpaper is peeling, so that needs to be stripped, and the walls could stand a good painting. And despite how much cleaning Jamie and I did today, much more needs to be done. I think if Dillon and Jamie have to do all that work, I should at least knock off the first two months rent. I wouldn’t want to charge them too much.”

Dillon was speechless. He knew damn good and well why they were doing this. The average rent for a one bedroom apartment in the city of Reed was five-hundred and sixty bucks a month. Here was Sadie, offering them a place for what would have been a steal fifty years ago. Dillon was touched, but he was also a little irritated that no one even bothered to ask him what he wanted. He’d half-way expected it from the others, but Dillon thought at least Jamie would have asked him if he wanted the two of them to move in together. Dillon did want that. Make no mistake, living with Jamie on a permanent basis was a dream come true, but after the talk he and Jamie had at the police station that night in Chicago, Dillon was almost sure Jamie would at least make the decision a joint effort between the two of them. Instead, Jamie just assumed Dillon was gonna say yes. That point was driven home when Jamie said, “You can charge us a real rent, Aunt Sadie. And you don’t have to pay my half. I’m gonna get a job so I can help pay my share.”

“That is a ‘real’ rent, young man. That amount was good enough for my father and it’s good enough for me. And as for getting a job, you’ll do no such thing. Dillon already had his job, so I can’t fuss too much about his working, but I want you to concentrate on your studies, Jamie. I intend to help with your expenses, and that’s just the way it’s going to be.” Sadie looked at the assembled crowd. “Well, what are you all waiting for? We have an apartment to inspect, accoutrements to gather, and furniture to move.”

Brandon said. “Damn, and I was looking forward to having the kid stay with us, too.” He grinned at Nate. “Guess if we want a family anytime soon I’m just gonna have to keep trying to get you pregnant, huh?”

Nate slugged him on the arm. “Come on, let’s go through the attic and see what else is up there.”

Megan said, “Wait up and I’ll go with you. I think Grandma Nash stored some curtains up there, too. Every house needs curtains. And if those aren’t the right size, I’ll just have to make some.” When eight pairs of eyes gave her eight equally doubting looks, Megan put her hands on her hips. “What? I can sew. Geez, so what if I made a dress in home ec and forgot to cut holes for the sleeves? Doesn’t mean I can’t sew. I happen to think the dress looked pretty good, even if I couldn’t move my arms.” She ignored the laughter coming from all directions, leaned up on her toes and gave Heath a shy peck on the cheek. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

Heath gave her shoulder a light squeeze. “Count on it.” He steeped back and stretched. “I’m gonna go call that guy I know and see if he’s got anything at his shop we can use.”

Before Dillon could believe it was happening, the lot of them, Jamie included, were headed towards their various vehicles and tasks. That was it. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Hold it.”

It was like playing freeze tag. Every one of them stopped in his or her tracks. Gale said, “Yes, honey? Was there something you wanted?”

Dillon cleared his throat. “Don’t think I’m not grateful to all of you for trying to help me, but don’t you think it’s time somebody asked me what I wanted?”

  #

Jamie wished to God his legs were long enough to kick his own self in the ass. He’d gotten so wrapped up in the idea of having Dillon live with him, Jamie had forgotten to even ask Dillon if this was what he wanted. Damn, damn, damn. Jamie looked around and saw some of what he was feeling reflected on the faces of the others involved. Every single one of them--from Gale and Sadie down to Nate, Brandon, and everyone in-between--apologized for being so careless. Dillon graciously accepted, but Jamie knew that his were the words Dillon was really waiting on. It was time for Jamie to mend his fences, as Aunt Sadie would say, and hope Dillon was as forgiving with him. 

Clearing his throat, Jamie said, “Uh, Dillon, do you think maybe we could go inside and talk?”

Dillon nodded, but didn’t speak. Jamie looked to their family and friends. “If you’ll all excuse us, we’ll be right back.”

“Of course, honey. In fact, why don’t the rest of us go on back to my house where it’s warm and drink hot cocoa?” When the group seemed agreeable to that, Sadie gave Jamie an encouraging smile. “That way, if you and Dillon do decide this is what you want--what you both want--we’ll all be ready.”

Dean said, “That sounds like a great idea to me, Miss Banks. And I can go ahead and get Wayne out there so the two of us can start the inspection, just in case. Get that out of the way.”     

Gale turned towards her car, then turned back long enough to say, “Dillon, I’m so sorry we ganged up on you like this. Dean and I really would like you to stay with us if you decide that Sadie’s offer isn’t for you. Of course, I wouldn’t blame you if you said no, not after the way we bossed you around and browbeat you tonight.”

“Gale, please don’t think I’m not grateful, because I swear I am. I--”

Brandon cut him off. “We never thought you weren’t grateful, kid, but no man likes to have his life mapped out for him. You’re eighteen. You’ve earned the right to make your own choices.”

Nate snorted. “Yeah, right. Like you let me make my own decisions.” Nate looked to Dillon. “I’m sorry we got so caught up, Dillon, but in all fairness, I think Brandon started it. He’s known for his prowess at telling others what to do.”

Brandon leaned in close to Nate and nipped him lightly on the ear with his teeth. “You didn’t mind one bit me telling you what to do last night. As I recall, when I told you to--”

“On that note,” Gale glared at her son, “I think we’re leaving.”

Brandon laughed and led Nate to the parking lot, the others in tow. Even as nervous about the coming conversation as Jamie was, he couldn’t help but smile when he saw Megan climb into Heath’s truck with him. Now that the plans had changed and they were all headed to Sadie’s, it appeared that Megan was gonna use the situation to her advantage. Good for her. She and Heath seemed to be heading towards something special. Jamie only hoped his own relationship would be moving forward as well.

Dillon indicated the apartment door. “Let’s go. I know you wanted to talk to me, but I have something I need to say, first.”

Jamie nodded and followed Dillon inside, his heart pounding against his chest. Dillon didn’t exactly seem upset, but neither did he seem thrilled at the prospect of the two of them living together. Jamie hoped he was just reading Dillon wrong, but from where he stood, things weren’t looking so good.

Dillon stood back to let Jamie inside, then closed the door behind them. The look he gave Jamie was again neutral, but Jamie was finding it harder and harder to breath. God help him, he didn’t know what he would do if Dillon said no.

But Dillon didn’t say no. Instead, he leaned back against the door, looked Jamie square in the eyes, and said, “Do you love me?”

Not what Jamie had been expecting. “You know I do. Look, Dillon, I’m so sorry for not asking you about moving in. I just got so--”

Dillon shook his head. “I’m not upset about that. I mean, I was a little irritated at first, but I know why you did it, and I’m not mad. I do know that you love me, but I think I phrased the question wrong. What I should have said is, how do you love me?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean, exactly.”

Dillon ran his fingers through his hair. “Damn, I’m screwing this up.” He gave Jamie a pleading look. “What I want to know--no, what I need to know--is, do you love me in the right-now-we’re-together-so-let’s-just-see- how-it-goes way, or the forever-after-till-we’re-both-pushing-up-daisies way?” 

Jamie didn’t so much as hesitate. “Forever. It’s always been forever with me and you. At least, that’s how I see it.”

Dillon’s smile lit the apartment’s small living room, but Jamie could still sense the tension, some underlying nervousness that racked Dillon’s entire being. He hesitated a minute, then said, “Does that mean you’ll marry me?”

Of all the things Jamie had been expecting, a proposal wasn’t on the list. He was stunned into silence, which Dillon must have taken as rejection, because he rushed out, “I wouldn’t blame you if you said no, not after all that’s happened between us. And I don’t have a ring to give you or anything. Hell, I didn’t even buy a class ring because I don’t wear jewelry.”

Jamie shook his head. “Neither do I, but that doesn’t--”

Dillon cut him off. “Look, Jamie before you say no, think about it this way. You want us to move in together. I want that, too, but I want a commitment first.”

“You mean a ceremony like Brandon and Nate had?”

“No. I mean, if you want that we can have it, but I don’t need a public declaration. All I need is right here, right now, you promising to be mine--and only mine--for the rest of our lives. But if a ceremony is important to you, we can do it.”

God, Jamie loved this guy. “No, I don’t want a ceremony--”

Again, Dillon took Jamie’s words as a refusal and cut him off. “Look, Jamie, I’m not moving in with you unless you commit to me. Like Megan always says, ‘Why buy the cow if you can get the milk for free?’ Well, this cow isn’t putting out any more milk until you make me a promise. I mean it. I--”

Jamie closed the slight distance between them and put his finger against Dillon’s lips. “If you’ll hush up and listen to me for about ten seconds, I’ll tell you that I already think of us as married. That’s why I don’t need a public commitment. I already think of us as being hitched. I’m not asking you to be my roommate, Dillon, I’m asking you to be my partner in life.”

Dillon’s shoulders literally sagged with relief. “You are?”

Jamie wrapped his arms around Dillon’s waist and pulled him in close. “Yes, I am. And as far as being yours and only yours goes, I always have been. I could never let anyone else touch me the way you do.”

Dillon kissed the top of Jamie’s head. “I feel the same way.”

Jamie laid his head on Dillon’s chest. “Glad to hear it. Now, will you move in with me? I want to get all the cleaning and moving out of the way so we can start the honeymoon.”

Dillon reached between them and tilted Jamie’s head up, bringing his own down for a kiss that set every fiber of Jamie’s being on fire and gave him all the answer he needed. As marriages went, this one looked as if it was gonna be hell on wheels, and Jamie was anxious to start the ride. 

  # 

Dillon lay on the bed, flat on his back, his stomach muscles clenched in an effort to keep from coming as Jamie slid up and down his rigid length. Dillon gripped Jamie’s hip with his left hand as his right hand fisted Jamie’s erection, doing its best to bring the two of them to the edge at the same time.

“Oh God, Jamie, ride me.”

Jamie moaned in response. A minute later, he threw back his head and poured out his release, the inner clasp of his tight body bringing Dillon to the brink and over at the same instant. Jamie collapsed against Dillon’s chest, and Dillon wrapped him up tight in the strength of his arms, filling Jamie with everything he had to give.

When they came back down to earth, Jamie said, “Wow.”

Dillon laughed, using what little breath he had left. “Wow yourself.” He kissed Jamie’s forehead. “Mmmm. You taste better than those chocolate bunnies your aunt gave us for Easter.”

Jamie snuggled in closer. “I bet you say that to all the boys.”

“Only the ones I’m married to.”

“That narrows it down to one, then.” Jamie opened one eye to look at the bedside clock. “What time do you have to be at work?”

“Six.” Dillon turned his head and gave the clock his own inspection. “Four-thirty. I have enough time to grab a shower. Wanna take one with me?”

Jamie laughed and rolled off Dillon’s chest and to his side. “Nah. You’ll just want to have your wicked way with me again.” His voice took on that teasing tone that Dillon loved so much. “Geez, you’d think after a week of living together in married bliss we’d have had enough hot sex to at least last us a few days.”

Dillon stretched and got out of bed, swatting Jamie’s naked rear as he went. “Never happen, my friend. I have the feeling you and I will still be on our honeymoon when we’re sitting in matching rocking chairs at the Shady Oaks Retirement Village.”

Jamie closed his eyes and pulled the covers over himself, too sleepy, Dillon guessed, to even bother with cleaning up. “Sounds nice. The honeymoon part, I mean. Not the old folks’ home.”

Dillon laughed and went to the apartment’s small bathroom. As he started the water and climbed into the shower, Dillon thought back on the last week. Well, one week and four days to be exact. He, Jamie, and that crazy mix of folks they called family had spent all of Easter weekend cleaning and moving. The minute Dean Nash and his son Wayne had pronounced the place in good condition, Gale and Sadie had orchestrated what Dillon called Operation Move-in. Under their direction, walls were painted, floors were cleaned, and furniture was moved. Thanks to them, Dillon and Jamie were able to move in right after church on Easter Sunday. Dillon thought that was fitting. Easter was a time of renewal, rebirth. He certainly felt like a new man. Amazing what love did to a person. Not even Morgan’s smug smile when Dillon and Jamie had gone in together last Monday morning--one week ago that very day, in fact--to give the office their change of address, had dampened Dillon’s spirits. He had Jamie, and Jamie was all he needed to be happy.

Well, Jamie and food. Dillon’s stomach growled, reminding him that he had just enough time to slap together a sandwich before work. He’d only meant to drop Jamie off after school, maybe get a little bit of his homework done before he had to be at the pharmacy. But as soon as Dillon and Jamie had stepped into the bedroom to put their things away, Dillon had been seized by a lust so strong he’d had no choice but to grab Jamie and take him. Smiling at the memory of what had just transpired between them, Dillon shut off the water and toweled himself off. He came back into the bedroom only to find Jamie sound asleep under a mountain of covers. Careful so as not to wake him, Dillon grabbed his clothes from the tiny closet and made his way to the kitchen.

As usual, the first thing that caught Dillon’s attention when he entered the eat-in kitchen was the bright yellow refrigerator and the bugger green stove Heath had bought from his friend at the appliance store. The colors clashed a thousand times over with the cheerful blue Sadie insisted they paint the kitchen, but Dillon didn’t mind. His brother--the only blood family Dillon considered himself as having left--had gotten those appliances for him and Jamie, and Dillon loved them, as ugly as they were. He’d done his best to convince Heath to let him pay for the stuff, but Heath wouldn’t hear of it. Heath wanted to do it, especially since the two of them wouldn’t be living together anymore, and there was nothing Dillon could do to change his mind. Heath had also gotten Dillon and Jamie a washer and dryer, which the Nash’s had hooked up for the two of them in the garage part of the carriage house, right downstairs. Dillon cringed just a little when he thought of the muddy brown hue of the washer and powder pink color of the dryer. At least they’d lucked out on the living room suite Brandon and Nate had given them. Two chairs, a sofa, and a loveseat, all in a nice, normal shade of blue. Combine that with Jamie’s bedroom set from Sadie’s house, the lace curtains Megan had found in Brandon’s attic, and the mountain of groceries Sadie and Gale had brought over, and Dillon and Jamie had one heck of a first home.




The Way You Say My Name Ch. 14



Dillon slapped together and woofed down two bologna sandwiches before rushing off to work. He felt good, in spite of the fact that Nora had called earlier to let them know they could pick Ben’s car up tomorrow. Dillon wasn’t exactly eager for Jamie to reopen his investigation, but there wasn’t really anything Dillon could do about it. Besides, as long as he and Jamie had each other, the two of them could make it through anything.

Dillon pulled his car into the drugstore parking lot and got out. The temperature was beginning to change for the warmer. Dillon didn’t bother to put on his coat, the thick sweatshirt he wore being more than enough. Dillon entered the drugstore, whistling as he went. His good mood was cut short the minute he saw Jim Pembroke’s face.

Jim barely gave Dillon time to get in the door before he said, “Dillon, follow me to my office, please. I need to speak with you before you begin your shift.”

Uh oh. That one didn’t sound so good. Dillon was rapidly developing a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach. He followed Jim into the cramped confines of his small office, noting the pictures of his kids and grandkids on the wall. Dillon had been in Jim’s office more times than he could count, but this time felt different. When Jim waited until Dillon was seated, then took his own seat and began to speak, Dillon’s feelings of unease intensified.

Jim sat across from Dillon at his desk, his arms crossed against his chest. “I got a rather disturbing phone call from your mother this morning, Dillon.”

Oh, God. “Look, Jim, I--”

Jim put up his hand. “Let me finish, son. Like I said, I got a call this morning from Angela. The woman was hysterical. Told me she’d just found out from someone she used to work with at the school that you and James Walker were living together. When I told her that lots of boys your age took a roommate when they moved out of their parent’s house to help with expenses, your mother informed me that you and Jamie were much more than roommates. She came right out and told me that the two of you were lovers.” Jim’s eyes pinned Dillon where he sat. “Is that true, son? Are you and James Walker lovers?”

Dillon knew his job probably depended on his answer, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to deny Jamie for anyone, not ever again. In a clear, strong voice he said, “I prefer the term life partner, but yes, Jamie and I are living together, and we’re a heck of a lot more than roommates.” Dillon’s voice softened despite the severity of the situation. “He’s everything to me. My husband, my lover, my best friend.”

Jim nodded. “I gathered as much. I didn’t think your mother would be that upset if it weren’t true. You should have told me, Dillon.”

Dillon swallowed. “I know, but Jamie and I need the money to help out with college next year, and I was afraid if I told you it would affect my job.”

Jim leaned forward, placing his hands in front of him on the desk. “You’re right about that one, son. Your relationship with James does affect your job. I’m afraid this changes everything.”

 (TO BE CONTINUED) 



The Way You Say My Name Ch. 15



It wasn't like Dillon hadn't expected it. He and Jamie had talked about this very thing the day they'd moved in together. In fact, it had been Jamie's idea not to tell Jim that the two of them were partners. Jamie was afraid if Jim found out, he'd make some excuse to fire Dillon. And from the way the conversation seemed to be headed, it looked like Jamie had been right. Dillon sat back in his chair and waited for the words, "you're fired" to come rolling out of Jim's mouth.

But they never came. Instead, Jim said, "Dillon, is it your assertion that James Walker is your spouse?"

Why was Jim asking questions Dillon had already answered? "Yes, sir, it is."

Jim nodded again and reached for a stack of papers at the side of his desk. "In that case, I have a few forms I need you to fill out. Oh, and we'll have to increase your hours so that you get at least twenty-five in each week, but that's doable."

Dillon wondered if Jim had been taking samples from the pharmacy's narcotics section. "You're increasing my hours? Why?"

Jim pushed the stack of papers over to Dillon's side of the desk. "I know it might be a bit of an adjustment at first. I remember how hard it was for me to leave my wife right after we moved in together." He gave Dillon a sappy smile. "Heck, I have a hard enough time leaving her now, even after twenty-seven years and three kids." He cleared his throat. "But you already work about twenty-hours a week, so five more won't make that much difference. And I wouldn't ask you to do it, but company policy is ironclad on the subject." Jim quoted word for word as if reading from the employee handbook. "All employees wishing to qualify for health benefits must work an average of at least twenty-five hours per week."

Health benefits? "Mr. P., are you telling me you're bumping up my hours so that I can have health insurance?"

Jim shook his head. "No, son, I'm telling you that I'm bumping up your hours so that you and Jamie can have insurance. Savings Central offers benefits for same sex partners just like they would for a married man and his wife." When Dillon started to speak, Jim said, "I know at your age you don't think much about getting sick, and I pray you don't, but everyone needs health benefits, just in case. Now, I spoke with your mother, and I know for a fact she and your father cancelled your insurance as soon as you moved out. And I imagine James has insurance through his aunt, but it would be better if it came from you. For all intents and purposes, you're a married man now, Dillon. It's up to you and James to take care of each other. I'd say this is a step in the right direction, wouldn't you?"

Dillon was too shell-shocked to do more than nod, but it was enough for Jim. He pulled some more papers out of a drawer and added them to the stack in front of Dillon. "Good. Now that that's settled, we need to renegotiate your pay. Since health insurance takes money out of your check each week, I'm giving you a raise to cover the difference. And since you're a full-time student as well, you get a discount. So, with the raise and the extra hours, you'll actually come out making a few dollars more each week."

Dillon wasn't sure what to say, but he was fast learning that honesty worked best. "Jim, I can't thank you enough for doing this for me. When you called me in here, I though sure you were gonna fire me."

"Fire you? Are you crazy, kid? Not only are you one of the best employees I've got, you're also someone I've come to think of as a friend. Like a son, even. I love all three of my daughters, but it would be nice to have a son to pal around with. You fit that bill rather nicely, I must say." Jim took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I was hurt when you didn't tell me about you and James, though, Dillon. I want to help you in any way I can, but I can't do that if you won't let me."

The emotions swirling inside of Dillon at Jim's words were overwhelming. "I'm sorry for not telling you, Mr. P. Jamie and I have been through so much, and with my folks acting the way they are, I just wasn't sure how to handle it." Jim put his glasses back on, stood up, and came around to Dillon's side of the desk. He clapped his hand on Dillon's shoulder. "I wasn't criticizing you, son. I know you've been through a lot. I could tell that just by talking to your mother this afternoon." Jim rolled his eyes. "That woman is the poster child for a massive dose of Prozac. For the record, I don't give a rat's rear about you being gay. I'm just glad you've found someone to share your life with. Oh, and before I forget," Jim walked back around to the other side of the office and grabbed yet another sheaf of papers. "I have another offer for you. I recall you mentioning to me once that you were going to attend Garman College in the fall, up in New York, right? Are those plans still on?"

"Yes, sir. They are."

"Good. Savings Central has stores all over the country, including one in Rochester, about a twenty-minute drive from Garman College. I'm recommending you for a transfer when the time comes for you to move up there. I'm guessing that James is going with you?"

"Yes, he is."

Jim gathered all the papers together and handed them over. "That works out nicely, then. You can keep working for Savings Central and still keep your insurance benefits."

Dillon stood up, holding the papers against his chest. "Mr. P., I'm not sure what to say. Somehow 'thank you' just doesn't feel like enough."

Jim reached out and patted Dillon on the cheek. "It is, son. Trust me when I say it is."

#

Dillon took the stairs from the garage to his and Jamie's apartment two at a time. He flung the door wide and found Jamie bent at the waist, rummaging through the fridge and wearing nothing but a thin pair of boxers. Dillon dropped his papers on the small kitchen table they'd inherited from the apartment's last occupants and came up behind Jamie, finding the position too good to pass up. Jamie started a bit when he felt Dillon's crotch pressed against the most intimate part of himself, but he quickly warmed to the feeling.

"Mmm. If that's gonna be what happens every time I bend over around you, I'll be sure to do it more often."

Dillon laughed and pulled Jamie up, closing the refrigerator door with his foot and turning Jamie so that the two of them were facing. "You do that." Dillon nuzzled his neck, inhaling Jamie's hair. "You smell good. Is that my shampoo?"

Jamie looped his arms around Dillon's waist. "Yep. I bogarted some of it. I like the way it smells. Reminds me of you. Guess we'll have to stock up. You get it at the pharmacy, don't you?"

"Uh huh." Dillon looked down and into Jamie's eyes. "Speaking of the pharmacy, I have something to tell you. My mother gave Jim Pembroke a little a phone call this morning."

Jamie leaned his head against Dillon's chest and groaned. "Oh no. I can just imagine what she said."

Dillon pulled him in closer. "Yep. Gave him a real earful, from what he told me. But it's okay. Jim knows about us, and he doesn't care."

Jamie lifted his head. "Really?"

"Really. He's even arranged for the two of us to have health insurance. I'll have to work a few hours more a week, but we can deal with that. And here's the best part. He's transferring me to one of the New York stores in the fall so I can keep working while we're in college."

Jamie hugged him tight. "That's amazing. I was so afraid he'd fire you when he found out about us."

Dillon strummed his fingers up and down the tender skin of Jamie's neck. "So was I, but it didn't happen." He drew Jamie up on his tiptoes and gave him a tender but promising kiss. "You know this calls for a celebration, don't you?" Jamie grinned. "You want to celebrate the same way we celebrated our moving in together?"

Just thinking about the four hour sex-a-thon he and Jamie had shared their first night in the apartment sent a rush of heat coursing through Dillon's veins. "I do want that, but this time I want you in the driver's seat." When Jamie gave him a puzzled look, Dillon cupped his face with one hand and said, "I want you to top me tonight, Jamie."

Dillon could hear the rush of air that Jamie pulled into his lungs. "Dillon, are you sure? I know I'm kinda big, and I don't want to hurt you."

Dillon planted another soft kiss on Jamie's lips. "Kinda big? Jamie, you're freakin' huge." Dillon's expression softened. "But the pain won't last long, and I need you to do this, baby. Please. For me?"

Jamie sighed. "It isn't that I don't want to, but--" He hesitated and clenched Dillon tighter to him. "You'll have to talk me through it. And if I hurt you--"

Dillon smoothed his hands up and down Jamie's back. "You won't."

Dillon could tell the exact minute Jamie gave in. His body relaxed a little, and he gave Dillon a wary smile. "Let's take it to the bedroom, then."

Dillon followed Jamie into the bedroom, his every nerve ending on fire at the thought of what was about to happen between them. To his own surprise, Dillon wasn't nervous. Oh, he fully expected it to hurt, but that didn't matter. He needed this, needed Jamie to take that final step towards the two of them becoming equal partners.

Too bad Jamie was lacking Dillon's confidence. The poor guy was so undone, he couldn't even get his own clothes off, much less Dillon's. Dillon ended up having to strip them both. By the time they were both naked and standing beside the bed, Jamie was shaking so hard, Dillon was ready to call the whole thing off.

"Jamie, you don't have to do this. I never meant--"

Jamie shook his head, his voice coming out small and hollow. "What if I fuck this up, Dillon?"

Dillon was stumped. "What do you mean?"

Jamie put his hands behind his head, winging them back and forth in frustration. "Just what I said. What if I don't satisfy you? I mean, look at yourself, Dillon. You could have anyone you want."

"For God's sake, Jamie, do you really think I'd have gone two years waiting for you if I wasn't sure you're the one I want?"

Jamie looked close to panic. "But what if I hurt you? What if I can't get you off?"

Dillon took him into his arms. "Then we keep trying until we get it right." Dillon bent down to peer into Jamie's face. "I want you inside me, Jamie. Not so you can get me off. Not because this is some test I expect you to pass." Dillon lowered his voice, but even so, his words came through loud and clear in the stillness of the bedroom. "I want you inside me because you're mine. You already own my heart. I want you to have my body, too."

Jamie shuddered. "Oh, God. How can I say anything but yes after that?"

"You don't have to, Jamie. I wasn't trying to pressure you, no matter how it sounded." "I know you weren't. As far as that goes, you're the one who's supposed to be freaking out over this. You're about to lose your virginity, not me."

Dillon laughed. "Technically, we both are. You've never topped before, and I've never bottomed. We're on equal footing with this one."

Jamie went still. "I never thought about it like that."

Dillon leaned down and kissed Jamie's neck, his tongue weaving a wet path between Jamie's ear and shoulder. "That's what you have me for. To point out the upside of things."

Jamie leaned into Dillon's caress. "You keep doing that, and I'm gonna show you my own 'upside.'"

Dillon growled, the sound vibrating against Jamie's skin. "That's my plan."

#

Okay, so Dillon had underestimated just how bad bottoming hurt when one's boyfriend had a dick the size of a telephone pole. It wasn't that Jamie hadn't prepared him. Jamie had fingered, sucked and rimmed him until Dillon thought he'd go insane from the sheer pleasure of it. The foreplay had even helped to dissipate Jamie's nervousness. No, the problem wasn't Jamie's prowess as a lover. The problem was, he was just too damn big.

Crouched between Dillon's widespread legs, Jamie saw the grim set of Dillon's features and panted out, "I'm gonna stop now, Dillon. I can't stand causing you pain like this."

Dillon shook his head as best he could with his body set in such a rigid pose. "Just keep going. The head will pop in any minute now." Again, Jamie tried to back out, and again, Dillon stopped him. He had to do this, had to prove to Jamie he was willing to both give and receive. Finally giving in, Jamie went back to using the gentle pressure needed to open Dillon to his body for the first time. Gentle, that is, for someone trying to shove a killer whale into a goldfish bowl.

Okay, this was it. Dillon's ass was going to explode. In the morning there would be nothing left of him but pieces of ass scattered all over the apartment. He was just wondering how Aunt Sadie would clean all those ass fragments out of the bedroom rug when Jamie moved forward and Dillon felt him slide fully inside.

Well, his ass was still attached, so at least Dillon had been wrong about that part. He felt full, stretched. Jamie lay above him, stock still and, Dillon guessed, afraid to move. But in addition to feeling pain, Dillon felt something else. Curiosity. He was anxious to know what it was that made Jamie so eager to bottom for him most of the time. With a slight rocking of his hips, Dillon encouraged Jamie to move. And move he did. With that one little motion, Dillon started Jamie's thrusting. And Dillon felt . . . nothing.

Nada, zip, zilch. Well, he felt something, but it wasn't anything special. It was sort of like having Jamie stick his finger in Dillon's bellybutton. Dillon knew it was there, could feel it wiggling around, but it didn't do a heck of a lot for him. At least it didn't hurt like it had at first. Dillon was glad Jamie seemed to be enjoying it--hell, Dillon would bottom for him every night if it brought Jamie the pleasure his grunts and groans said it did--but truthfully, Dillon couldn't see what all the fuss was about. Then Jamie shifted his position, and Dillon nearly passed out from the white-hot electricity zapping through his blood.

"Jesus Christ, what was that?"

Jamie was so out of breath, so racked with raw longing and lust, he was barely able to grunt out, "I hit your prostate."

So that's what that did. Dillon had always wondered. Now he knew. God, did he know. Where he'd been soft only minutes before, Dillon's erection sprang to life, trapped beneath Jamie's pistoning hips. Dillon had read more than one internet story about guys who had hands-free orgasms. He'd even given Jamie a couple. He never thought he'd actually have one himself, though. But as Jamie continued to rake over that one spot deep inside, and as he felt the contractions begin low in his belly, Dillon was damn thankful for being wrong.

He thought to warn Jamie what was happening, but he never got the chance. Not that such a warning turned out to be necessary. He heard Jamie whisper, "I love you," felt Jamie swell within him. And as Dillon filled the space between their bodies with the weight of his release--spurned on by the knowledge that Jamie was filling him the same way--Dillon closed his eyes, not surprised to feel the first wetness of his own tears. Dillon should have been shocked, being able to count on one hand the times in his life he'd actually cried, but this time, he thought it fitting. Jamie had just completed him. Dillon was whole.

#

Aunt Sadie pulled up in front of Nora's house. Well, Nora's former house. According to what she'd told them, Nora would be out completely by the end of the week. Jamie couldn't say he didn't feel a pang of regret at knowing the only real home Ben had ever had was being sold, but he understood Nora's desire for a fresh start.

Sadie put the Cadillac in park. "Are you boys sure you don't want me to stay for a few minutes? Dillon, don't you have to be to work soon, what with your new schedule and all?"

Dillon shook his head, even though Sadie couldn't see him from where he sat in the back seat. "No, ma'am. My new schedule doesn't start until next week. I have tonight off."

Jamie opened the front passenger side door. "It's a good thing he does. Nora really needs us to go ahead and get the car and Ben's things today so she can finish clearing out the place for the new owners. She's down at her office right now closing a sale, but she left the garage unlocked for us, and all Ben's things are inside the car."

"Do you have the car keys?"

Jamie patted his pocket. "Yes, ma'am. Ben left them to me in his will."

Sadie turned around to look at Dillon. "Dillon, how about going on up to the house and opening the garage? I'll send Jamie on in a minute."

For a second it looked like Dillon was gonna argue, but in the end he gave Jamie an apologetic smile and climbed out of the car. Jamie understood. Few men, himself included, had the balls to refuse a direct order from Sadie Banks. Jamie sank back against the seat and re-closed his door. He knew that look on his aunt's face. Lecture time. 

The minute they were alone, Sadie turned in her seat to face him and said, "Are you sure this is what you want to do?"

"Pick up Ben's car? Sure. I mean, that's why we needed you to drop us off, so Dillon would be able to drive us back home."

"Not that." Sadie sighed. "Jamie, Dan Morgan stopped me on my way out of the library yesterday afternoon." She paused. "He told me you were arrested in Chicago, and that you'd been probing into Ben's death."

Damn Morgan to Hell. "I wasn't arrested, Aunt Sadie, and Morgan knows it. He and Dillon had a talk about this the Monday after the trip to Chicago." Jamie felt a piercing of guilt. "I should have told you what happened, but I was afraid you'd be mad."


Sadie waved that away. "I'm not a complete imbecile, Jamie. I knew that you and Dillon hadn't gone all the way to Chicago just to rent a hotel room and 'do the wild thing,' as you kids say. And I also knew that you've been far from satisfied with the explanations you received about Ben's death. But being picked up by the police in front of a dead man's house?" Sadie shook her head. "Really, Jamie. What were you thinking?"

"Morgan told you all of it, huh?"

Sadie adjusted herself, causing the leather seats of the Cadillac to creak and groan. Jamie could relate. He felt like groaning himself when Sadie said, "He told me that you were involving yourself in some kind of vigilante investigation into Ben's death. He also told me that the man whose house you visited was murdered, and that he was worried about your safety." Sadie curled her nose. "What a crock. He had some books in his hand, made it seem like he'd come to return them and just happened to run into me while I was doing story hour for the kids. Horse pucky. There isn't a doubt in my mind that he came to the library with the express purpose of asking me to warn you off, and not because he was worried for your safety, either. What I want to know is, why?"

In this, at least, Jamie could be honest. "That, I don't know."

Sadie studied him carefully, making Jamie feel like a bug someone had pinned to a card and put under a microscope. Finally, she said, "But you do know more about Ben and his death than you're telling me." A statement, not a question.

Jamie didn't bother to deny it. "Yes, I do. But there's still a lot that I don't know."

Sadie didn't ask for clarification. "And you hope to find something in Ben's things that will help you fill in the blanks."

"Yes, ma'am. I do."

Sadie reached out with one hand and smoothed his hair. "Jamie, I know that you loved Ben, and I also know that you feel like you owe him something. But, son," she looked into his eyes, "You have your own family now, with Dillon. It's not just yourself you have to consider. Whatever you do directly affects Dillon, as well. And if Morgan is right, you could both be in danger."

Jamie did his best to project confidence. "I'm not in any danger, Aunt Sadie. Morgan was just trying to scare you."




The Way You Say My Name Ch. 15



Sadie's eyes were pleading, but she didn't argue with him. "I hope you're right, Jamie." 

She wasn't the only one who hoped he was. Jamie didn't even want to think about what could happen if he was wrong. #

Even as worried as he was about what he was likely to find in searching Ben's things, Jamie couldn't help but laugh at the cautious way Dillon eased himself into the driver's seat of the low-sitting Firebird. "What's the matter? Sore?"

Dillon shot him a dirty look. "You should know. You're the one who stuck that tree branch of yours up my ass."

"As I recall, you loved it." Jamie climbed into the car amidst Dillon's assurances that he had. It wasn't until he was completely seated and was closing the door that Jamie remembered the last time he was in that car. The night of the dance. The last time he ever saw Ben. Jamie had talked to him the next day on the phone, but that night was the last time Jamie ever saw Ben's face. The hurt must have shown on his own face, because Dillon's reaction was automatic. 

He reached over and squeezed Jamie's hand, his palm warm and comforting. "You know, you can sell this car if you want to. If it hurts you to even sit in the thing, there's really no point in keeping it."

Jamie shook his head. "It's okay. Just gonna take me a little while to get used to it, is all."

Dillon gave Jamie's hand another squeeze. Jamie reached into his pocket and handed over the keys. "You ready?"

Dillon nodded, then paused. "Can I ask you something?"

"You know you can."

"What about Ben's ashes?"

Jamie drew in a deep breath. "The mortuary sent them to Nora, and she's agreed to keep them for me for a while, just until I can figure out how to fulfill the terms in Ben's will."

"You mean the part about waiting until you're completely happy and then releasing them somewhere?"

"Yeah."

Dillon gazed at him long and hard. "Haven't you been happy, Jamie? With me, I mean." Jamie smiled. "Yes. Happier than I've ever been in my life, in fact. But--"

Dillon cut him off with a loud sigh. "But you can't be completely happy until you have Ben's death and the rest of it all settled in your mind."

Jamie leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. "Not completely, no." He turned his head in Dillon's direction and opened them again. "Does that make me sound like a total dick? I mean, here I am belonging to this amazing guy, but unable to let go enough to totally enjoy him."

Dillon popped the key in the ignition. "It doesn't make you sound like a dick, Jamie, but I have to admit, I'm hoping there's something in Ben's stuff that can answer your questions. I'm ready to put this behind us."

Jamie had the same hopes, but two hours later, as he sat on the floor of their apartment surrounded by empty boxes and Ben's few possessions, those hopes dwindled and Jamie had to admit to himself that he wasn't going to find anything, not that way.

Dillon came up behind him, sitting down so that Jamie was cradled between his legs. Dillon put his hands on Jamie's tired shoulders, rubbing with deep, forceful motions in an attempt to ease the tension.

Jamie leaned back against Dillon and closed his eyes. "That feels so good."

Dillon kissed his cheek. "Find anything?"

"No, but not for lack of trying." Jamie opened his eyes and pointed to the array of stuff scattered on the floor. "Forty-six baseball cards, eight ratty ole' comic books, a donkey that shoots cigarettes out of its butt--"

"I didn't know Ben smoked."

Jamie shook his head. "He didn't. God only knows where he got the thing, but you're missing the point, Dillon. I went through all his stuff, and I didn't find anything. Not one clue."

Dillon kissed him again. "You know what you need?"

"Besides a fifth of Jack Daniel's, you mean?"

Dillon tickled his ribs. "This coming from the guy who gets high off root beer. Not even close. You, my friend, need a driving lesson."

Jamie swatted Dillon's hands away from his ultra-ticklish mid section. "Quit it before I pee." When he'd gotten his breath back, he said, "We've talked about this before. I can't drive, and you know it. I don't even have a permit."

"You took driver's ed, though. I know you did, because it's required. And you have to have a permit to take that class."

Jamie nodded. "I took it last year, and I passed, but only because Coach Greenly went easy on me."

Jamie could see the shock on Dillon's face out of the corner of his eye. "Coach passed you even though you couldn't drive?"

Jamie nodded. "Fraid so. I got so scared the first time we went out, I almost wrecked the damn car. Coach passed me, anyway, because he didn't want to mess up my academic record with a failing grade. I know it sounds screwed up, and if anybody ever found out he'd be in deep shit, but he was trying to help. It's a good thing for me Plunkett's on-the-road driver's training is one-on-one. I'd never have gotten away with it otherwise. Aunt Sadie was mad as hell when she found out about it. I had to beg her not to rat out Coach Greenly."

The look of mock-horror Dillon sent him was comical. "You mean I've saddled myself with a cheater? God help me."

Jamie pinched him. "Yeah, well He's the only one that's gonna be able to help you if you don't stop teasing me. And like I said, I had a permit, but I'm sure it's run out by now. That was over a year ago."

Dillon shook his head. "Those things are good for at least a couple of years. Didn't you even look at the expiration date?"

"No, why would I? I can't drive, so what's the point in having a permit? I threw it in one of Aunt Sadie's kitchen drawers as soon as driver's-ed was over with."

Dillon stood up, pulling Jamie to his feet in the process. "The point in having a permit, genius, is so that you can learn how to drive. Come on."

Jamie followed even as he said, "Where are we going?"

"To get your permit. Then you're gonna have your first lesson."

Jamie was horrified. "At night? On the road?"

Dillon grinned. "Yes, and yes."

Jamie followed Dillon up to the main house, not that he had much choice. Dillon always called Jamie stubborn, but Jamie was nothing compared to Dillon when he made up his mind about something. Jamie's last thought as he pulled the apartment door closed was whether or not he and Dillon would make good crash test dummies. He had a feeling they were about to find out.

# 

Sadie eyed them with a mixture of amusement and wariness as they came to claim Jamie's permit, but she didn't say anything, and Dillon was glad. He was having a hard enough time convincing Jamie that he could actually do the whole driving thing as it was. Poor guy looked scared to death, but Dillon was just gonna have to remain firm on this one. Everybody above the age of sixteen needed to know how to drive, and that's all there was to it.

Dillon and Jamie walked back across the yard and up the separate driveway of the carriage house. Jamie headed to the Lumina, which was parked halfway up the drive, but Dillon shook his head and pointed towards the garage, where the Firebird rested.

Jamie's eyes went so big they were all Dillon could see in the dim glow of the security lights. "You want me to drive Ben's car? Dillon, that's a stick shift."

Dillon unlocked the garage door. "And you point is what again?"

Jamie rolled those same big eyes. "I can't even drive an automatic, let alone a stick."

Dillon almost laughed at the irritated tone of Jamie's voice, but he held it together. "If you learn how to drive a stick, you can drive anything. Heath taught me how to drive on a stick, and that's how I'm gonna teach you."

"Heath taught you how to drive instead of your dad teaching you?"

"Yep. Good ole' Douglas was too busy to teach me, so Heath took over." Dillon raised the garage door and pointed to a spot on the other side of the driveway. "Why don't you wait for me over there while I back it out and turn it around? I'll teach you how to go in reverse later. Right now, though, I think we should concentrate on going forward."

Dillon heard Jamie mutter, "And I think we should just look into getting me a bus pass," but he did as Dillon asked, anyway. Damn, he was cute when he was all agitated like that. As the engine rumbled to life, Dillon had to admit that Ben had great taste in cars. He looked to Jamie, standing off to the side. And men. Ben had great taste in men. At least, he had when he'd fallen for Jamie. 

Dillon backed the car out and took advantage of the wide driveway to whip the car around so that Jamie could just drive it straight out onto the street. As soon as he had the Firebird in position, Dillon put the car in neutral and got out, coming around to the passenger's side. "You ready to do this thing, baby?"

Jamie cringed. "Hell no on that one. Look, Dillon, I don't even know what position to put the gears in."

"Get into the driver's seat and I'll teach you." An idea had popped into Dillon's head, the perfect way to show Jamie how to shift gears. Dillon was betting on the fact that Jamie wouldn't forget, especially not given the method of instruction Dillon was going to use.

Jamie complied without protest, though Dillon could tell there was plenty he wanted to say. He waited until Jamie was seated on the driver's side before climbing in himself. As soon as they were both buckled, Dillon said, "You ready?"

Jamie shook his head. "No, for all the good it's gonna do me." He reached for the keys. "You want me to start it up now?"

"Nope. I want you to unbutton your jeans."

There was just enough light surrounding the driveway for Dillon to get a clear look at Jamie's face. Jamie couldn't have looked more confused if Dillon had asked him sacrifice a live chicken on the courthouse steps. "What in the hell does unbuttoning my jeans have to do with driving?"

Dillon knew Jamie. If he told him outright what he was planning, Jamie would raise a fuss. "Uh-uh. First you have to do it, then I'll tell you. You're just gonna have to trust me on this one." 

Jamie eyed him long and hard before sighing and doing as Dillon asked. As soon as Jamie's pants were unfastened, Dillon reached for him. Jamie squeaked out, "What are--"

"Shh." Dillon freed Jamie from the confines of his boxers and said, "Now, start the car so we'll have some heat in this thing."

"With your hand on my dick? Dillon--"

"Please, Jamie, just do this for me, okay?"

Another sigh, then the purr of the engine as Jamie started the car. Dillon grinned. Time for the first lesson.

One thing Dillon had counted on--could pretty much always count on--was Jamie's reaction to his touch. He started getting hard almost as soon as Dillon wrapped his hand around him. Dillon stroked him with a light motion until Jamie was rigid enough to begin. Then, with a gentle motion, Dillon wiggled Jamie's penis back and forth. "This is neutral."

Jamie was having trouble following. "Huh?"

Dillon smiled. "I'm going to demonstrate the positions of the gears using your own personal, um . . . shifter. As soon as I'm done, I want you to do the same thing using the real shifter."

"Are you nuts?" But there was no heat in Jamie's voice, especially not with Dillon stroking him the way he was.

Dillon laughed. "Yep, all part of my charm." He wiggled his hand, again. "As I was saying, this is neutral. Feel the slack in the gear shift?"

Jamie half-answered, half-panted, "Yes."

"Okay, you can take your hand off the shifter, now." As soon as Jamie relaxed back against the seat, Dillon moved his hand forward. "Okay, this is first gear."

Jamie leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "Damn. I think I like first gear."

"Then you're gonna love second, third, and forth."

And he did. Dillon's lesson turned into a fifteen minute, mutual masturbation session that left the both of them more than a little bit satisfied. 

When they were finished, Jamie zipped up his jeans and gave Dillon's hand a little squeeze. "Damn. We didn't even unbuckle our seat belts."

"Well, you know what they say. Safety first." He pointed to the shifter. "I'm ready when you are. Put your left foot on the clutch and your right foot on the brake. Then we'll get this show started."

Dillon's plan had worked two-fold. Not only had he shown Jamie "firsthand" the proper positions for the gears, but Jamie was now too relaxed to argue. Well, not much, anyway. He gave a token protest, but put the car into first in spite of his misgivings. It only took him six tries to keep the motor running in the process. Dillon winced each time the thing went dead and Jamie ground the gears in yet another attempt to get her on the road. Finally, though, on try number seven, Jamie managed to work the clutch and the accelerator together. Dillon almost shouted with relief when he felt the car inching forward.

But his relief was short lived. Just as Jamie lurched to the edge of the driveway, the left front tire made a loud pop, followed by the unmistakable hiss of air escaping its rubber confinement.

Jamie slammed on the brakes, not a hard slam considering they were going less than a mile an hour. "What did I do?"

Dillon was already unbuckled and on his way out to check. "I think you ran over something, probably one of those tack strips they pulled up when Megan's dad and her brother ripped out that old carpet. Dean sat all that stuff next to the curb."

"Yeah, but city sanitation picked all that stuff up." Jamie shut off the engine without even bothering to take the car out of first. 

Dillon came back in and helped him get the car into neutral, again. "Calm, down Jamie. A piece of it probably got left behind, is all. No big deal."

Jamie got out at the same time as Dillon. He looked so shaken, Dillon gave him a task just to keep him focused. "Grab my flashlight out of the garage, please. The light out here is too low for me to see what we hit."

Jamie was all too happy to go. By the time he got back with the light, Dillon was in position, ready to inspect the damage.

As he'd thought, a stray piece of tack strip had worked its way into the driveway and under the tire. The tread was totally wasted. Dillon stood up and brushed off his knees. "Looks like you're about to get a lesson in car maintenance, Jamie. You're about to change your first tire."

Jamie groaned. "I thought you said this driving stuff was easy." He walked back around to the driver's side and pulled the keys out of the ignition. "Ben had a flat tire the night of the accident, remember? Nora told me the police towed the car into the station, but changed the tire for her when they released it to her custody after Ben's death was ruled a drunk driving accident. I'm betting they put the spare on and just threw the flat tire into the trunk after they were done."

Sure enough, as Jamie raised the trunk lid and Dillon got a good look at the so-called spare, he could see that Jamie was exactly right. Dillon reached for the jack. "At least we can go ahead and take the old tire off. We'll have that part done, anyway. And we can take the one in the trunk to the auto-parts store. Maybe it can be patched."

Jamie just nodded, and Dillon could tell he wasn't handling this well at all. He figured it had more to do with talk of the night Ben died than anything else. Dillon's best bet was to get this over and done with so Jamie wouldn't have to deal with it any longer than necessary. He was in such a hurry he didn't notice that the edge of the jack was caught on the fabric lining of the trunk. With one smooth motion Dillon extricated the jack, the sound of ripping fabric alerting him, too late, to his mistake.

Jamie was staring at the ruined fabric, his brow furrowed. Dillon thought sure he'd upset him. "Jamie, I'm so sorry. I'll get it fixed. I'll--"

Jamie shook his head. "It's not that. Look." He pointed to a stack of what looked like papers stuffed against the side wall of the trunk, just inside where the lining should have started.

Dillon dropped the jack and the tangled fabric back into the trunk, reaching for the papers at almost the same time. Only they turned out not to be papers. They were photographs, instead.

Dillon took one look at the first one and his stomach turned. It was a picture of a man he'd never seen before doing unspeakable acts with a girl who looked to be no more than fourteen, fifteen tops. He shuffled through each picture, finding the same guy doing the same thing, only with a different girl in each picture. The guy's face was clearly visible, but Dillon didn't recognize him. He didn't realize he'd said the last part out loud, though, until he heard Jamie say, "I recognize him. I know exactly who he is."

Dillon took one look at Jamie's stricken face and knew what was coming, but he had to ask, anyway. "Who is he, baby?"

"He used to be Burke Carpenter. That is, before someone splattered him all over his front porch. I guess we know who Ben was blackmailing after all, huh? We just found Ben's second victim."

{To Be Continued}



The Way You Say My Name Ch. 16



"Now can we go to the Sheriff?" Dillon sat down on the couch, next to Jamie and across from Megan and Heath who were sharing the loveseat. He took a sip of the coke he'd brought with him from the kitchen, wishing it was something stronger. 

Jamie shook his head. "Not until we know all of it."

Dillon should have known it wasn't gonna be that easy. "Why in the hell not? We know all the players, and with those pictures of Burke having sex with underage girls, there's not a doubt in my mind that he was Ben's second victim."

Heath snorted and scooted even closer to Megan, though Dillon would have swore they were already as close as two people could get without actually sharing the same skin. "Some victim. You ask me, it couldn't have happened to a nicer guy." He looked to Jamie. "What did you do with the pictures?"

"I asked Dillon to hide them for me, but not to tell me where they are until I decide what to do with them. I know that sounds weird, but I feel better not having to see them." He sighed. "I know I should just hand them over to the Sheriff, but I'm half scared he won't believe me. Blackmail, prostitution, pay-offs. This whole mess sounds more like a soap opera plot than something that actually happened." 

"I know my brother, Jamie. If you tell him the truth and show him the evidence, he's gonna believe you. He's too smart not to." Megan leaned forward, taking Heath with her. "And I'm sure when you do talk to Brandon, Ash will be glad to go with you and back up you up with the story of his own blackmail."

Dillon, who'd just taken another sip, got so choked up Jamie had to whack him on the back a few times to clear the Coke out of his windpipe. "How did you know about that?"

Megan shrugged. "I went to see him in the hospital a few days after his near miss. I mean, I've gone to school with the guy for practically my whole life. It was only right that I go check on him. We started talking, and he told me what happened." Megan leaned back against Heath. "To be honest, I think he just needed to get the whole thing out of his system, poor guy. And he gave me permission to tell Heath, too. That's my point. If Ash is willing to let me tell a perfect stranger like Heath what happened to him, I'm sure he'd be happy to cooperate if you wanted to tell Brandon."

Jamie said, "How is Ash, anyway? I heard he was home from the hospital." Jamie lowered his eyes in that way that made Dillon's heart ache for all he'd been through. "I wanted to go see him, but I was afraid it would make things harder on him. You know, bring it all back."

Megan's smile was so warm and loving towards Jamie, Dillon could have kissed her. "Ash figured that's why you haven't been around. He said to tell you and Dillon both he'd love to see you, anytime."

Dillon set his Coke on the table and studied his brother's face, finding the way Heath's facial muscles tensed at Megan's words fascinating. "And just when did Ash tell you that? Did you go see him?"

Megan turned to face Heath. "You know I did. I told you about it."

Heath shook his head. "You told me you visited him at the hospital. You didn't say anything about going to his house."

"Oh for Heaven's sake, Heath. The guy needed a friend. I've been to see him a few times, and I don't think I should have to apologize for it. I don't know why you'd be jealous, anyway. You don't seem to care about how much time I spend with Dillon and Jamie."

Heath crossed his arms over his chest. "That's different. Dillon and Jamie are gay."

"And so is Ash."

"Ash is bisexual, meaning he plays both ways. Big difference, Meggie. I don't like it."

Megan stood up, pulling on Heath's hand so that he came to his feet as well. She gave Dillon and Jamie an apologetic smile. "Before this turns into another one of our fifty-decibel-discussions, Heath and I are gonna go." She blew them both a kiss, and shook her head when they started to rise. "Don't get up. We know the way out. And Jamie?"

"Yeah?"

"No matter what you decide about telling Brandon, I'm behind you all the way." On that note she left, taking a grumbling Heath with her.

Jamie leaned into Dillon's embrace. "I don't know what we did to deserve Megan, but I'm glad we've got her."

Dillon kissed his cheek. "She's a sweetheart, all right. I just hope Heath doesn't hurt her."

Jamie looked up at him in surprise. "You really think he would?"

"Not intentionally, no. But Heath has a whole lot of baggage he's carrying around with him. I just hope it doesn't spill out on Megan."

That peaked Jamie's interest. "What kind of baggage?"

Dillon pulled him in as close as possible. "To be honest, I'm not sure. I just have the feeling that something happened right about the time Heath moved out of Mom and Dad's house. Nothing was ever said to me, and Heath won't talk about it, but that's the feeling I get."

Jamie nodded. "You're probably right. You have good instincts."

Dillon didn't want to fight, but he couldn't let an opening that good pass him by. "Yeah? Well, if I have such good instincts, why won't you listen to me about going to the sheriff."

Jamie pulled away slightly, but to Dillon's relief, he didn't go far. "Those pictures we found tonight don't necessarily mean that Burke was Ben's victim, Dillon."

"You don't believe that, Jamie. Hell, it was your idea to call Megan and Heath over here to tell them what we'd found. Why would you do that if you didn't believe we had proof positive?"

Jamie did get up then, but Dillon sensed it was more a case of restless energy than anger. After a few minutes of pacing across the living room, Jamie stopped long enough to look at Dillon and say, "So what's our theory, then? That Burke killed Ben because Ben was blackmailing him?"

Dillon knew Jamie wasn't going to like what he had to say next, but that wasn't going to stop him from saying it. Jamie needed to face the truth. "Jamie, you have to stop looking for killers around every corner. Brandon's already arrested Ben's killer. His name is Barry Sledge, professional drunk, and he's sitting in the county jail right now awaiting his sentence."

Jamie pulled at his hair in a gesture of complete frustration. "Damn it, Dillon, can't you see what's right in front of you? It's too much of a coincidence that Ben was blackmailing two people for thousands of dollars each and then just happened to end up dead? Life doesn't work that way."

"Life isn't an eight-dollar mystery novel, either. It's time you stopped trying to make it one." Dillon was doing his best to hang on to his temper, but Jamie wasn't making it easy with his stubborn refusal to listen.

Jamie's cheeks were bright red and flushed with anger. "All right then. Since you have an answer for everything, answer this one for me. You're so sure Burke didn't kill Ben. Who killed Burke, then?"

Dillon stood up. "Gee, Jamie, I can't imagine who would want to kill Burke. I mean, who in his right mind would want to off a kiddy pimp/child molester. I can't think of a soul."

"Do you have to be so damn sarcastic?" 

It wasn't until Dillon heard the quiver in Jamie's voice that he realized how worn out Jamie was. Dillon's anger dissipated like a thin fog, almost at once. Dillon crossed the room and took Jamie into his arms, all but crushing him against his chest. "No, I don't. I'm sorry, babe. I'm just worried and ready for this to be over."

Jamie nodded but didn't say anything. Desperate to reach a compromise, Dillon said "I don't wanna fight about this. Can we try something here, please?" 

Jamie murmured "What," into Dillon's chest. Dillon smiled in spite of the tension between them. At least Jamie was interested. Dillon said, "It's too late to go to the auto parts store tonight, and I have to work every evening until closing for the rest of the week. But Saturday, I get off at four. Let's take the tire from the trunk in and let the guy at the auto parts store look at it. Then we'll make up our minds about what really happened that night, okay?"

Jamie nodded and hugged him tighter. Dillon only hoped when the evidence came in proving that Ben's death was caused by Sledge--and only Sledge--Jamie would accept it.

#

The guy down at Autos-R-Us--Joe, according to his nametag-- took one look at the tire Dillon had pulled from Ben's trunk and said, "Dude, who slashed your tire?" 

Dillon could feel Jamie go rigid beside him. "You mean the tire was cut?" 

Joe narrowed his eyes. "You're telling me your tire was cut and you didn't even know it."

Jamie shook his head. "The car belonged to a friend of mine. The tire was like that when I got it."

Joe took a pen out of his pocket and pointed to the black surface. "See this gash here, on the side?"

Jamie said, "Yeah, I see it. But what does it mean?"

Dillon tuned Joe out as he gave Jamie his explanation. Dillon already knew what it meant. If Ben had run over something which caused the tire to go flat, the gash would be on the bottom, not the side. But even in the face of mounting evidence that was contrary to his own theory, Dillon wasn't going to give up. If he admitted that the tire had been cut the night of Ben's death, then he'd have to admit the truth: someone wanted it to look like Ben had a flat tire that night and therefore had a reason to be out of his car on a deserted road in the middle of the night. Someone with something to hide. Something like murder. Nope, Dillon was not ready to believe that, not yet. To Joe, he said, "But couldn't running into something, say a ragged curb, couldn't that gash a tire on the side?"

It was Joe's turn to shake his head. "Not like this one was cut. See here?" Using the pen, he again pointed to the tire. "Take a close look and you'll see what I mean."

Dillon did as he was asked and out of the corner of his eye saw Jamie doing the same thing. The minute Dillon was eye level with the tire, he knew the truth. There, amid a store crowded with engine parts and the smell of old oil, all Dillon's theories about the night Ben died crumbled. 

Jamie straightened up first. "I don't know anything about cars and even I can tell that tire was cut with a knife. It's just too clean and narrow to have been made by anything else."

Joe nodded. "That's about the size of it. I can patch it if you want me to."

Dillon said, "No, don't do that. Can you get us a used tire in the same size? The one that's on there now was shredded by a tack strip. I doubt it can even be patched." He paused for a minute, thinking about the tire he hadn't had a chance to even remove in all the chaos caused by finding the pictures. "On second thought, see if you have two used tires in this size. That way we'll have a spare." 

"Piece of cake." Joe looked down at the tire on the counter. "What do you want me to do with this one?"

Dillon had to drag the words out of his mouth. "We'll take it with us just like it is. We may need it for evidence."

Jamie gave him a long, searching stare. "Does that mean what I think it means?"

"Yes and no." Dillon took a deep breath. "Let's just say I'm less certain about Sledge's guilt now than I was when I walked in here. I want to keep that tire like it is, just in case."

Dillon could tell that Jamie was trying hard not to say "I-told-you-so." Instead, he said, "In other words, you're keeping an open mind."

"Yeah, something like that."

Jamie grinned. "A guy can't ask for any more than that."

#

As soon as they got back to the apartment, Dillon parked the Lumina and pulled all three tires out of the trunk. Jamie took the slashed tired from him and carried it into the garage, propping it against the far wall. Coming back to Dillon, Jamie pointed to the other tires. "Want to store those in the garage, too?"

Dillon shook his head. "Nah. We've got a couple hours of daylight left. Might as well go ahead, change the damaged one, and put the spare in the trunk. Wanna give me a hand?"

"Sure. What do you need me to do?"

Dillon rolled one of the tires towards the Firebird, which was still resting on the side of the driveway. "Throw this one in the trunk please. Oh, and grab the jack and the lug wrench while you're at it."

Jamie pulled the keys out of his pocket and went to the back of the Firebird. At least he knew what a lug wrench was and wouldn't have to embarrass himself by asking Dillon. Jamie had to hand it to Dillon, though. Not once had he ever made Jamie feel inferior for his lack of knowledge about cars. Just another reason Jamie was so crazy about the guy.

He threw the spare inside the trunk, ignoring the sight of the ruined lining and the memory of those pictures as best he could. He grabbed both the jack and the handle, tucking them under his left arm and reaching for the lug wrench with his right. That done, he closed the trunk and headed to where Dillon was crouched on the driver's side of the car.

Dillon took the lug wrench with a grateful smile and made quick work of loosening the lug nuts. When that was done, he said, "Put the jack together, would you, sweetie?"

Jamie grinned in spite of himself. "Sweetie? You going all girlie on me, Carver?"

Dillon laughed. "I told you that lube Megan gave us was turning me into a girl. You are sweet, though, and I can prove it."

"Oh really? How?"

"Cause, I've tasted you myself."

Damn if Jamie didn't blush just hearing that. Cheeks still flaming, Jamie set about screwing the handle onto the jack so Dillon could pump up the car. Screw. Pump. Thinking those words made Jamie blush even harder. Dillon was turning him into a total horn-dog, and Jamie didn't mind in the least.

Jamie gave the handle a twist, knitting his brows in frustration when it refused to tighten in. Finally, after five solid minutes of trying, he turned to Dillon. "I think I must be doing it wrong."

Dillon set aside the lug wrench and looked over Jamie's shoulder. "There's no way to do it wrong. All you do is screw it in."

"I'm trying, but it won't catch."

"Here, let me try." Dillon turned and took the jack handle, repeating the process Jamie had been struggling with. Jamie was strangely happy to see that Dillon was having no more success than he'd had. Finally, Dillon took a good look at both the jack and the handle and said, "No wonder they don't fit. They're different models. Hell, they aren't even the same brand."

It wasn't disbelieve of Dillon's statement that made Jamie take a look for himself. It was more like a sure certainty that Ben, who put the "P" in "picky" where it came to his car, would never have a made the mistake of pairing his jack with the wrong handle. Dillon must have had the same thought, because he said, "I don't believe this."

Jamie nodded. "I know. I can't believe Ben would have made that mistake."

"Jamie, this wasn't a mistake."

Jamie wondered if his face was as blank as his mind at that moment. "I don't understand. You just said you didn't believe it. Now you're saying you think Ben choose the wrong handle on purpose."

Dillon laid the handle on the ground, right in front of Jamie. "Look at the handle, Jamie. It's solid steel. They all are. And judging by the way this one is too small to catch on the threads at the base, I'm guessing the handle that goes with this jack is even more solid, thicker. Just the right size to club a man over the head with--"

"And then leave him lying in the middle of the road for some drunk to run down." Jamie finished Dillon's sentence with a horrifying realization. "You think the guy who really killed Ben bashed in his head with his own jack handle and then dragged his body into the middle of the road?"

"Yep. I also think that the killer slashed Ben's tire to make it look like he was fixing a flat and had a real reason to be out of the car that night. But he couldn't leave a bloody jack handle behind, so I think the killer probably switched Ben's jack handle with his own thinking no one would ever check it. And it worked, because no one did. Not until now, anyway."

Jamie closed his eyes, his brain doing it's best to keep up. When he was together enough to open them again, he looked at Dillon and said, "But how did he do it without being seen? And if Ben didn't really have a flat that night, what was he doing out of his car? And how did the killer get the jack handle out of the trunk to hit him with in the first place?"

Dillon leaned back against the car. "The first part is easy enough to answer. Tully Road is isolated enough that no one would be out there at that time of night except the occasional drunk on his way back from the beer joints. If I had to guess I'd say that's why Ben and the guy who killed him were meeting out there in the first place." Dillon rubbed his grimy hand over his face, leaving more than one smudge. "As for the rest of it, who knows? Just more pieces to add to this dam jigsaw puzzle Ben created."

Jamie wanted to argue that getting killed wasn't exactly Ben's fault, but he knew it would be a hard sell, even to himself. Blackmail and extortion weren't exactly conducive to long life and good health. One thing he couldn't argue against any longer, though, was going to see Brandon. Jamie couldn't keep fighting the truth. He and Dillon were over their heads, and they needed backup. Looking to Dillon, he said, "Can we wait about changing the tire?"

"Yeah, we can, but we don't have to. I have a jack in the trunk of the Lumina."

"It's not that. It's just that, well . . . " Jamie cleared his throat. "We need to go see Ash before we do anything else."

It was Dillon's turn to look confused. "Ash? Why?"

"Because I want to clear it with him before we go to see Brandon." Jamie looked Dillon dead in the eye. "You were right, Dillon. It's time we tell Brandon the truth. All of it."

Dillon grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him, hard. When they broke apart, he summed up his feelings in four simple words. "It's about damned time."

#

Thank God, Ash was home. Jamie was so nervous, Dillon was afraid he was going to have to strap Jamie to the seat of the Lumina with duct tape just to get him to sit still long enough to fasten his seat belt. When Ash answered the door on the first ring, Dillon sagged against the doorframe with relief.

Ash looked worlds better than he had the last time they'd seen him. The bandages were gone, revealing a rope-shaped scar encircling the entire circumference of his neck, but other than that, no one looking at him would ever be able to tell he'd had such a near-miss. The thing that put Dillon the most at ease, though, was the warm smile Ash gave the minute he saw them.

"It's about time you assholes came to see me. I was beginning to think I was gonna have to barge into your little love-nest just so you'd know I was still alive." Even Dillon had to admit that Ash's damaged vocal cords gave his voice a low, sexy pitch.

Dillon laughed. "Yeah, yeah. Cry me a river, why don't you?" He grew more serious. "You look good, man. Real good."

Ash ushered them inside. "I feel good. And Dr. Carson is so happy with my progress, he's decreased my therapy sessions to once a week. With any luck, I'll be discharged from care completely by the time school starts in the fall."

Jamie clapped Ash on the back. "That's great, Ash." Jamie hesitated. "That makes what we came to ask you even harder."

Ash led them into the den and motioned them towards the couch, taking one of the chairs for himself. Once they were all seated, he said, "If this is about you telling the sheriff what happened with me and Ben, I'm all for it."

Jamie seemed too stunned to speak, so Dillon took over. "You know about that?" "Sure. Megan told me you were thinking about it, and might want me to back up the story with your brother. I'll tell you the same thing I told her. I think you should tell him what's going on. Especially until you find out where that other money came from."




The Way You Say My Name Ch. 16



Dillon looked to Jamie, a question in his eyes. When Jamie nodded, Dillon said, "Actually, we're pretty sure Ben was blackmailing the guy who pimped him out. The less you know about that the better, but let's just say we found photos a whole lot like the ones Ben made of you."

Ash shuddered, but he seemed to be holding it all together. "Damn. I had no idea Ben was capable of all that. I really thought maybe what he did to me was a one time thing."

Jamie cleared his throat. "There's more." He went on to tell Ash about the slashed tire and the mismatched jack handle.

Ash shook his head in amazement. "So what, you think the pimp killed Ben because Ben was blackmailing him, then made it look like an accident? It makes sense, I guess. All the more reason for you to turn the guy over to Sheriff Nash."

Dillon propped his right leg over his left knee. "That's the kicker. The guy who whored out Ben is dead. Somebody wasted him on his own front porch."

Ash whistled. "You gotta go to the sheriff, Jamie. I'll back you up any way I can." He lowered his eyes. "I still have those pictures Ben took of me and him, if you need them."

"God, Ash, why would you keep something like that?" Jamie made a rude noise. "I'd have burned the fuckers."

Ash shrugged. "I'm not sure why I kept them, to tell you the truth. Maybe I just wanted a reminder of my own stupidity." Jamie started to speak but Ash held up his hand to stop him. "It's okay, Jamie. I won't say I'm over it, but I'm dealing with it. And look at it this way. If you show Brandon those pictures and that letter from Ben, it goes a long way towards backing up your story."

By the time the visit was over and the two of them were ready to leave, Jamie seemed more convinced than ever that telling Brandon the truth was the right thing to do. Dillon was actually starting to think that all their problems would soon be behind them. He should have known better.

#

They drove to Brandon's house first. It was pushing eight o'clock by the time they got there, and Dillon was almost sure Bran would be there. Nate answered the door, with Sasha, Brandon's Great Dane, hot on his heels. Sasha studied the boys for a second with something akin to doggie-disinterest before sauntering back into the house. Dillon laughed. "Some watchdog she is."

Nate snorted. "Oh yeah. She's a watchdog all right. She'd sit back on her fuzzy rump and watch the thieves make off with all our stuff." Nate opened the door wider. "You guys want to come in?"

Jamie shook his head. "Actually, we were hoping to talk to Brandon."

"I wish you could, guys, but he's gone to Chicago to talk to a witness about a case he's working on. I'm not expecting him back until late tonight. Is there anything I can help you with?"

Dillon took Jamie's hand. "Not this time, Nate, but we appreciate the offer."

Nate slapped him on the shoulder. "Anytime, buddy. And whatever it is, I hope it works out for you. For both of you."

It was a too much of an understatement to say it out loud, but silently, Dillon did, too.

#

By the time they got back to their apartment, Jamie was totally drained. He could have sworn he fell asleep twice on his feet just walking towards the stairs. He followed Dillon inside the apartment and was just about to head towards the shower when someone knocked on the door. Since Dillon was halfway to the bedroom already, Jamie yelled, "I'll get it."

The minute he opened the door, all thoughts of being tired and taking a shower fled. Megan stood on the deck, her eyes red, dried tear tracks on her cheeks. Jamie pulled her inside and wrapped his arms around her. "Are you all right?" Megan mumbled into his chest. "Yes. No. I don't know." She drew back and took in a deep, shuddering breath as a fresh batch of tears filled her eyes. "I'm not sure how to feel. Heath's mad at me, and I don't know why." 

Dillon came back in, took one look at Megan's face and said, "Dammit, what did Heath do to you?"

"How do you know it was Heath?" Megan swabbed at her eyes with her shirtsleeve. "How do you know it wasn't me who screwed up?"

Dillon pulled her over to the couch. "Because I know my brother." He and Jamie sat down on either side of her, offering what comfort they could. "What happened, Megan?"

"You know that night we got picked up in Chicago?" When they both nodded, Megan said, "Stupid question. Of course you do. Well, Heath was so mad at me that night, he spent the entire drive back from Chicago blessing me out for what happened. I guess he was on such a role, he couldn't see how upset I was getting. By the time we got back to Reed, I was a complete basket case. Heath felt bad about it, and he took me to his apartment to get me calmed down before driving home. Guess he didn't want my mom and dad to see me so upset." She took a deep breath. "He was so great about it, so apologetic. We started kissing. One thing led to another, and . . ."

Dillon groaned. "Megan, please tell me you didn't sleep with him."

That brought on a fresh round of tears. "I did. And that wasn't the only time we've been together. He's always been so sweet afterwards. But not tonight. Tonight was different."

Dillon drew her against his side. "And how was tonight different, honey?"

Megan hiccupped. "Tonight I told him I loved him."

Jamie reached out and squeezed her hand. "And what did he say when you told him that?"

Megan increased the pressure on Jamie's hand. "He flipped out on me. Total pancake. We were at his apartment, and he just freaked. He jumped up and started getting dressed, going on and on about not expecting too much and about me pressuring him." Megan laughed, the sound harsh and bitter coming from her lips. "Jeez, you tell a guy you love him and he practically dives out the window to get away from you." Megan wiped her eyes on her sleeve again, and Dillon went to fetch some tissue. As soon as he came back, and Megan blew her nose and wiped her eyes proper, she said, "He all but threw me out of the apartment, told me it was time for me to go home. I drove straight here. God, what did I do wrong?"

Dillon cursed under his breath. "You didn't do a damn thing wrong, Megan. This is Heath's problem, not yours." Dillon stood up, and Jamie knew what he had in mind.

Megan must have guessed it, too, because she said, "Where are you going?"

"Where do you think I'm going?" Dillon picked up his keys. "I'm going to beat some sense into my dumbass brother. No way in hell am I gonna let him treat you this way."

Megan did her own version of a freak out. "No, you can't! Please, Dillon, it would only make things worse. You know how Heath is. He'd be so mad at me if he knew I told you what was going on between us. Please don't do it."

Dillon looked at Jamie with such helpless bewilderment, Jamie felt sorry for him. But on this one, Megan was right. "You can't do it, Dillon. You've been where Heath is. Think about it. Could anyone two years ago have forced you to confront your feelings about me?"

Dillon fell back onto the couch. "Take the wind out of a guy's sails, why don't you?" He looked at a still sobbing Megan. "So, what are we gonna do about this?"

"Nothing. I'm the one who screwed up, not you." Megan curled her lip. "I'm always the one talking about cows and free milk. I knew better than to give my virginity to a guy who barely even seems to like me most of the time."

Jamie pulled her in and hugged her tight. "Well, we like you. And we won't even ask you to sleep with us."

Megan managed a shaky laugh as Dillon wrapped his arms around her from the other side. "Who says we won't? This girl is downright cuddly. I've always wanted a human teddy bear. She could sleep right in the middle of that big ole bed of ours, and we could share her."

Megan laughed again, and Jamie could feel her relax a little bit. As much as he liked Heath, he was mad as hell at him for doing this to her. And judging from the look on Dillon's face, he was even angrier than Jamie was.

It took Megan another half hour to calm down completely. She was wrung out, and Jamie wasn't surprised when she said, "Thanks for listening, guys. I think I'm gonna go home now and drown my sorrows in a hot bubble bath."

"You sure you're up to the drive?"

Megan stood up, the two of them going up with her. "I'm fine, Dillon, just ready to go home." She kissed them both on the cheek. "I'll see you Monday at school, if not sooner." And before either one of them could lodge a protest, she was gone.

The minute the door closed, Dillon grabbed Jamie in a hug so tight Jamie thought sure he heard his ribs groan in protest. Dillon's voice was harsh, strained. "God, Jamie, I am so sorry."

"For what?" Jamie pulled back as best he could within the confines of Dillon's bear hug. 

Dillon's face was tortured. "For putting you through the same thing my brother is putting Megan through. If I hurt you half as bad as Heath has hurt Megan, you must have been in agony."

Jamie leaned up on his tiptoes and kissed Dillon's chin. "You've more than made up for it. And with any luck, Heath and Megan will work things out, too."

Dillon sighed and rocked Jamie back and forth in his arms. "I hope you're right, but, knowing my brother, he'll make Megan's life hell before he admits to her--and himself--how he really feels. I--"

A solid knock on the door cut Dillon off in mid-sentence. Jamie pulled away from him with a wry smile. "Hold that thought. Megan must have forgotten something."

Jamie crossed the room to the door, flinging it open with, "Hey what did you for--" The words died on his lips. Instead of seeing the blue eyes and red hair he'd expected, Jamie laid eyes on the face that had haunted his dreams since that ill-fated day in February. The dark brown eyes, the black hair, the face of the best friend he'd ever known. Ben Lewis was standing on Jamie and Dillon's doorstep.

{To Be Continued}



The Way You Say My Name Ch. 17



It took almost an hour for Dillon to get Jamie calmed down. The minute he’d laid eyes on Mitchell Harding, Jamie had started hyperventilating. Dillon tried everything he could to convince Jamie that he wasn’t staring into the face of a dead man, but Jamie’s panicked brain couldn’t absorb the information, not in the state he was in. In the end, Dillon had little choice but to let Jamie’s panic attack run its course. Dillon let out a deep breath when Jamie’s own breathing returned to normal.

Dillon took a second to study Mitchell, who was sitting in one of their living room chairs. His resemblance to Ben was uncanny, but now that the initial shock was over, even Dillon could see some differences. Whereas Ben’s hair had been short and spiky, Mitchell’s hair was longish, clasped with a leather cord at the back of his neck. Ben’s face had been unmarked perfection, but Mitchell had a wicked scar running the length of his right cheek from the corner of his eye to his chin. And there were other differences as well, like the more muscular build of Mitchell’s body and the deeper tone of his voice as he apologized, yet again, for sending Jamie over the edge.

Mitchell looked to Jamie, who was sitting on the couch next to Dillon, still wheezing slightly. “I am so, so sorry, man. I had no idea I was gonna trip you out like that. When my sister told me you wanted to see me and that it had something to do with Ben, I came straight to Reed. I didn’t even think about calling first.”

Dillon waved away the apology with one hand while the other moved in slow circles across Jamie’s slightly turned back, trying to soothe and comfort him as best he could. “You don’t have to apologize, Mitchell. This wasn’t your fault.”

“Please, call me Mitch.” Dillon nodded and made formal introductions for himself and Jamie. Mitch pushed a stray lock of hair away from his forehead, the leather of his jacket creaking as he moved. Crossing one faded, jean-clad leg over the other and picking at the heel of one black boot, Mitch inclined his head towards Jamie. “What caused him to freak?”

Was he kidding? Dillon tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “Not to be insensitive or anything, but you have to admit that you and Ben could pass for twins.”

Pain clouded Mitch’s warm brown eyes. “Shit. I didn’t even think about that.” His whiskey-smooth voice lowered an octave. “I used to think Ben and I favored a lot, but then, after I got this scar--” His hand moved unconsciously to his cheek and Dillon had the feeling the memory was as vicious as the scar itself. “Well, anyway, I guess I just didn’t think.” He looked at Jamie again. “Is he gonna be okay?”

Jamie sat up, using Dillon for leverage and holding on to him like a lifeline. “I’m okay. Sorry about that, going all crazy on you, I mean. It’s just, for a minute there . . .” Jamie’s voice was so low, Dillon wondered if Mitch could hear it. “For a minute, I thought you were Ben.”

“I understand. You and my brother, you were tight, then?”

“Yeah.” Jamie stopped for a second, gathering himself together. “He was my best friend. I still can’t believe he’s gone.”

Mitch shifted in his chair, his movements slow and measured. Even Dillon, a total stranger, could tell that the guy was grieving. But if he cared so much about his brother, why hadn’t he seen him in over two years? Why the breach? 

Before Dillon could pose the question, Mitch said, “How did my brother die? Lily told me something about a drunk driving accident, and that a couple of ‘fags’--her words, not mine--wanted to see me because they thought I might know something about his death. She gave me your names and a cell phone number, told me you lived in the town of Reed, and nothing much else.”

Jamie was about to say something, but Mitchell’s last statement raised a question in Dillon’s mind. “If all Lily gave you were our names and a cell number, how did you find us?”

Mitch sighed. “It wasn’t easy, believe me. I’ve been trying to pin you down for almost two days now. I knew that Ben’s foster mother was a woman named Slater, but when I found her house, some guy told me she’d moved. I finally tracked her down at the realtor’s office where she works, but she refused to give me your address. Said she didn’t want me hurting you the way I hurt Ben.” His voice dropped again, and he lowered his eyes. “As if I could.” He came back up to meet Jamie’s gaze. “Anyway, when she wouldn’t tell me anything, I tried looking you both up in the phone book.” He smiled, but there was little humor in it. “I must have called every Walker in the book before giving up and trying to find you both under the name Carver. Wouldn’t you know it? I had a hit the first time out. I guess I should have tried Carver first, anyway, since C comes before W.” He grimaced. “Although, after talking to the lady who answered the phone, I almost wish I hadn’t called at all.” He looked at Dillon with more than a little pity. “Your mom is one angry lady.”

Dillon wrinkled his nose. “That’s one conversation I’m glad I didn’t hear. I can just imagine what my mother told you. Needless to say, I’m not exactly the favorite son around the Carver house.”

Mitch snorted. “Total understatement, dude. The minute I said your name, your mom went off on a ten minute tear about you and James Walker being shacked up in, what was it she called it? Oh yeah, ‘that Lambert Lane Den of Sin’.” Mitch shrugged. “At least I got your address out of it, even though I had to ask around town before I found the place. Not to mention the fact that it took me forever to spot this apartment behind that big ole house in front.” Mitch gave a sheepish but sincere grin. “Then it took me another couple of hours just driving around town, trying to work up the courage to come knock on your door. I wasn’t even sure I’d have the guts to climb the stairs.”

Jamie spoke, and Dillon was relieved to hear some of the strength returning to his voice. “I understand. It was the same way for me when I knocked on your sister’s door, looking for you.”

Mitch put both feet on the floor, propping his elbows on his knees. “Don’t think I’m not grateful that you came and told us about Ben, but why did you come looking for me? If you and Ben were as close as I think you were, you must have known that I haven’t seen Ben in almost three years.”

“That’s just it, though. I didn’t even know you existed. My best friend in the world had a whole family I didn’t even know about. Why is that?”

Mitch sighed again, this time making the sound of a man torn apart inside. “You’ve met my sister, James. Would you brag about having a family like us? No, Ben did the right thing. He saw a chance to get out and he took it. Good for him.”

As much sympathy as Dillon felt for Mitch and what he’d lost, there was too much riding on what he might know for Dillon to let it go at that. Jamie was too tenderhearted to grill him, but Dillon was determined to get to the truth. “There’s more to it than that, and you know it. You need to tell us what really happened between you and Ben to cause such a split between two brothers who by all accounts cared so much about each other. We also need any information you can give us about Burke Carpenter’s death.”

Mitch went on the defensive. Dillon figured him for a man tired of taking orders. “Oh yeah? You think I drove here from Michigan just to spill my guts to two guys I don’t know from Adam? If I wouldn’t talk to the cops when they came nosing around, what makes you think I’ll talk to you?”

Jamie’s voice came through loud and clear. “Because as soon as we’re done talking to you, we’re going to see the sheriff here in Reed, a guy named Brandon Nash. We’re taking with us evidence of blackmail and murder, and all hell is going to break loose. Which side of all this you’re on when the smoke clears depends on what you tell us within the next five minutes.”

Dillon stared at Jamie in slack-jawed astonishment. So much for underestimating his partner. He should have known better. Jamie might be tenderhearted, but when it came to Ben, he was single minded and determined to a fault.

Mitch was just as astonished but for different reasons. “Whoa. Back up a minute. Like I said before, Lily told me Ben was killed by a drunk driver. How does that tie in with blackmail and murder?”

Jamie spelled it out, going from Barry Sledge and the supposed accident that took Ben’s life, to finding the money and both sets of pictures, to the slashed tire, and then ending with the mismatched jack handle. By the time Jamie was done outlining each point, there was no doubt in Dillon’s mind that Mitch was a believer.

“And you’re sure that this Barry Sledge guy couldn’t have killed Ben?”

Jamie shook his head. “I can’t be sure of anything in all this mess, but, like I said, Barry Sledge swears Ben was already dead when he hit him.”

Mitch raked his hands through his hair, dislodging the leather cord, which fell unnoticed to the floor. He all but tied the silken black waves of his hair in knots as he tried to take it all in. “And the last set of photos you found, you’re sure those are of Burke?” 

“As sure as I can be. All I saw was that one photo of him in his folder at the police station.”

More surprise came from Mitch, and Dillon could also see a hint of admiration. “You went through Burke’s folder?”

Jamie blushed. “Um, yeah. That’s how I got your name and number. I sorta swiped a paper listing all the known occupants of Burke’s house at the time of his death.”

Mitch whistled. “That took a whole lot of intestinal fortitude, kid. If the police catch you, you are so screwed.”

“Maybe, but it was worth it. And who are you calling kid? According to your sister, you’re only two years older than me.”

Mitch’s eyes took on a faraway, almost wistful gleam. “According to the calendar, I’m two years older than you. But the way I’ve lived, the things I’ve seen . . . it ages you.” He cleared his throat and came back to the present. “What do you want from me?”

Dillon took that one. “We want the truth about all of it, from your split with Ben to the night Burke died, anything that might tell us whether or not Burke killed Ben in retaliation for the blackmail.”

Mitch balked. “You think Burke killed Ben for blackmailing him? No way. Burke was a slime ball, sure, but he didn’t have the balls to kill anybody.”

“He could have hired someone to do it.”

Mitch shook his head. “You’re not getting my point, James. If Burke really was Ben’s second blackmail victim, why pay Ben off in the first place if Burke was just going to kill him later? Why not do it at the get-go?” When Jamie started to argue, Mitch said, “Before we take this any further, do you think I could take a look at those pictures? It might not even be Burke. You said yourself you couldn’t be sure.” When Jamie hesitated, Mitch went on with, “If you expect me to spill my deepest and darkest secrets to you, you’re gonna have to give me something in return. Trust works both ways.”

Dillon had to admit, the guy had a point. Jamie gave him a small nod and Dillon stood up. “I’ll get ‘em. Jamie asked me to hide them for safekeeping.”

He hated leaving Jamie alone with the guy, even if Mitch did seem sincere enough. Still, Dillon didn’t waste any time retrieving the pictures he’d taped to the back of one of Jamie’s framed sketches. Having a budding architect in the family had its advantages.

Dillon came back in, handing the pictures to Mitch and reclaiming his place beside Jamie. He watched the emotions swirling across Mitch’s face as he flipped through the pictures, finally throwing them down on the coffee table in disgust. “That’s Burke. No doubt about it. The fucker was doing those girls in his own damn bedroom.”

Jamie said, “Are you sure you don’t need to look again. Those pictures have got to be at least two-and-a-half to three years old.”

“What are you talking about? Those pics were taken just a few months ago. Four, maybe. Five tops”

Jamie was on the edge of his seat, literally. “That’s impossible. Ben left Burke years ago. How would he have gotten recent photos?”

Mitch picked up the top picture, wincing at the image on the paper. “There’s no way these pics are two or three years old. See that scar right there?” Dillon and Jamie leaned in and looked to where Mitch’s finger pointed towards a long, narrow gash trailing down the length of Burke’s back. Even in the grainy photo, it was impossible to miss.

Dillon leaned back against the couch. “So he has a scar. So what? How does that prove when the pictures were taken?”

Mitch placed the photo back on top of the pile. “Seven months ago, Burke was in a car accident. Wrapped his Porsche around a tree. That scar came from a piece of jagged sheet metal slicing into his back. Took almost two hundred stitches to sew him up, and he was out of commission for another two months recovering from all his broken bones. That’s why I say those pics had to be taken somewhere in the four to five month time frame.”

Dillon rubbed his fingers over the back of his stiff neck. “Then that leaves us with two choices. Either Ben snuck back to Chicago, set up a camera, and photographed good old Burke in action, or he had someone do it for him.”

Mitch held up two fingers. “I vote for the second scenario. After what happened the night Ben left, I don’t think he would ever willingly have stepped foot in Burke’s house again.” Mitch shuddered. “God knows, I wish I’d had the same choice.”

Jamie’s voice was filled with compassion. “What happened that night, Mitch? It’s obvious that you loved Ben, that you’re nothing like your sister. What happened that pulled you and your brother apart?”

Mitch closed his eyes, but not before Dillon saw the tears. When he opened them again, the tears had been replaced with an iron resolve. Resolve to help bring his brother some justice.

Mitch cleared his throat. “Before I start this, do you think maybe I could have a glass of water?”

Jamie nodded. “I’ll get it.” When he came back in and handed Mitch the glass, Mitch said, “Thanks, man. Talking about this makes my mouth go dry.” He wasn’t kidding. While Jamie was sitting back down, Mitch drained half the glass in one long swallow. Placing it on the table near the pictures, Mitch said, “How much information did you get out of my sister?”

Dillon rolled his eyes. “Depends on what you call information. We know that she was in prison for dealing drugs, and that you and Ben were sent to more than one foster home. Oh, and we know that you aren’t really ‘bent,’ as your sister so elegantly put it.”

Mitch laughed. “Show’s what she knows, huh?” Seeing Jamie’s rounded eyes, he laughed again. “Yeah, I’m gay. I knew I was before I ever started working for Burke.” He cringed. “Didn’t make fucking guys for money any easier, but hey, you do what you gotta do, right?” He shrugged. “I guess Lily needs to believe that I’m not really gay so she can keep living in that fantasy world of hers. More power to her, but I’m through hiding. Is it hot in here to you?” He pulled off his leather jacket and hung it on the back of his chair, revealing a wide, well-developed chest hidden beneath a tight black t-shirt. “Is that all she told you?”

Jamie said, “No, she also mentioned something about Burke having a partner.”

Again, Mitch did a full body shudder. “Yeah, I’ll get to him in a minute. First I want to answer your question about the night Ben left Chicago. I believe you’ve been honest with me, and now it’s my turn.”

“When Lily went to prison, she blamed Ben for getting her busted.” Mitch sniggered. “Personally, I always figured the little shit did it on purpose, and I was damn proud of him for it. Me and Ben, we were two of a kind. He hated living with Lily and selling that junk on the street corner as bad as I did. When we were busted and CPS moved us into foster care, Ben and I were relieved, especially since the social worker was trying to find a home that would take both of us so we could stay together.” Mitch’s expression turned dark. “If we’d only known what we were walking into, we’d have run away and never looked back.” He shook himself. “Hindsight’s a bitch. Anyway, the lady at CPS found several places that would take us, but each placement was only temporary. And Ben and I weren’t exactly the easiest kids to deal with. Hell, we’d practically raised ourselves, and here were these perfect strangers harping at us to do our homework and go to bed at ten o’clock. We pitched up so much hell, it’s no wonder they couldn’t find a foster home to keep us. Enter good ole Burke.”

Mitch paused, his hands shaking slightly. Dillon wondered how evil Burke had to have been so that just the mention of his name could cause such a reaction from Mitch. But Mitch went on with the story, in spite of the obvious distress he was feeling. “When I first met the guy, I thought he was the answer to all our prayers. Well-spoken, dressed to kill. I thought Burke was a regular Superman, ready to come in and save us. After two weeks in his house, I knew better.” Mitch fidgeted, trying in vain to find a more comfortable position. “I’m not sure how long we were there before he started pimping us out, but I can tell you this, I believe the dirty bastard is roasting in a black pit for the things he made us do. And the hell of it is, no one could do a damn thing to stop him. He had so many freakin’ cops and councilmen on his client list, I honestly think the guy could have screwed a goat on the mayor’s front lawn and gotten away with it.”

Jamie bit his lip. “You and Ben didn’t have anybody you could turn to? No family besides Lily?”

Mitch shook his head. “We didn’t have anybody but each other. And for a while, that was enough. As much as I hated whoring, we made decent money, even if Burke did take most of it. Ben and I saved what we could, hoping one day we’d have enough banked up to make a break for it.” Mitch sighed. “We almost made it, too. And we would have, if it hadn’t been for dear, sweet Uncle Jared.”

Dillon and Jamie said, “Who,” almost in unison.

“Burke’s partner. Uncle Jared. That’s what he called himself, anyway, though I doubt it was his real name. See, he and Burke had a sort of silent partnership. Jared would provide and screen new customers for Burke in exchange for a cut of the profits.”

Dillon said, “If he helped out in the operation, why do you call him a silent partner?”

Mitch fiddled with the leather bracelet he wore on his left wrist--his only jewelry save for the tiny gold hoop in his ear. “Because even though Jared brought in guys, he had nothing to do with the day to day running of the business or the management of the boys. Nope, that was all Burke.” He pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of the front pocket of his t-shirt. Tapping one out with less than steady fingers, Mitch started to light up, then stopped. “Sorry.” He held the cigarette up to Dillon and Jamie. “Do you mind? It helps settle my nerves.”

Normally Dillon would have said no, but the guy was doing them a favor by telling them this. Hearing no protest from Jamie, Dillon said, “Go ahead.” He went in search of an ashtray, finding nothing better to use than an empty soft-drink can. He handed it to Mitch with an apology on his lips. “Sorry, man. It’s all I could find.”

“Works for me.” Mitch set the can on the table next to his water glass and lit the cigarette, striking his Zippo lighter against the leg of his jeans in one fluid motion. He took a long, grateful drag before returning to his story. “Like I said, Jared’s job was to bring in business and screen the customers. Burke was always solid on one thing, and that was no violent stuff. None of that bondage or S and M shit. Not that he was worried about our welfare. No, Burke didn’t want anyone damaging the merchandise.” Mitch took another drag, and Dillon noticed that the shaking had settled somewhat. “Jared must have done a pretty good job screening, because Ben and I were there for almost three years without incident. Then, just before Ben’s sixteenth birthday, everything changed.”




The Way You Say My Name Ch. 17



Dillon fought the urge to reach out and pat Mitch’s arm, not sure how the gesture of comfort would be received. Instead, he said, “What happened?”

Mitch sighed. “Burke was out of town, one of the few times he actually left Jared in charge. Burke was pretty strict about no sex with clients in the house, which is why I was so shocked to see those pictures of him having sex with those girls in his own bedroom. He scheduled most of our encounters in out of the way motels, then slipped the motel managers extra cash to keep their mouths shut. But Burke was out of town, and Jared brought in this guy--Ralph, he called him--who was willing to pay extra if he could get it on with a matched set, twins. Burke didn’t have a set of twins, but--”

Jamie broke in. “He had you and Ben, and the resemblance was good enough.”

“Right. I told Jared there was no way I was going to have sex with my little brother, but Jared assured me that the guy didn’t want that, just wanted us both there. There wasn’t a whole lot we could do about it, so Ben and I just went along with it. Things started off normal. Well, as normal as can be expected when you’re selling your ass, but then the guy went nuts on us.”

Uh oh. Dillon was almost afraid to ask, but he had to. “Nuts, how?”

Another drag off the cigarette. “The guy got off on hearing other guys scream. The more pain he inflicted, the more he liked it. Ralph decided to do me first. His idea of foreplay was to knock me around, give me a bloody nose. I tried to fight back, and that’s when he pulled out the knife.” Mitch’s fingers again found the scar on his cheek. “I backed away as soon as I saw it, but I didn’t move fast enough. Bastard took a strip out of my cheek. That’s when Ben knocked him over the head with a baseball bat one of the other boys had left within easy reach.”

Jamie winced. “Ouch on both counts, but good for Ben. He did the right thing protecting you like that.”

Mitch shook his head. “He thought he was doing the right thing, but we’d have both been better off if he’d just let the guy do his worst to me.”

Dillon found that hard to believe, not unless . . . “Don’t tell me Ben killed the guy?”

Mitch took in a deep breath. “That’s exactly what happened. Well, what we thought happened, anyway. When Ralph didn’t move, I called out for help. Jared came running in, and not long afterwards, Burke came home from his trip. They ordered Ben and me out of the room, said they’d take care of everything.” Mitch sighed. “About an hour later, Burke came in and told us that Ralph was dead, that Ben had killed him. He also threw Ben out of the house, told him to pack his things and go.”

“Wait. I thought Ben ran away.”

“That’s what he wanted people to think, James. Ben had been giving Burke fits for a while. He was smarter than Burke’s other boys, myself included. Ben was always so headstrong, less inclined to follow orders than the others. I think Burke was relieved to have a good excuse to get rid of him, top money maker or not. I wanted to go with him, but Burke wouldn’t allow it.”

Since Ben had learned from the master, it didn’t take Dillon long to figure out how Burke kept Mitch from leaving. “He blackmailed you, didn’t he.”

Mitch gave a weary nod. “Yeah, he did. Told me unless I broke off all ties with Ben, he’d have Ben arrested for murder. Claimed he had the whole thing on tape, and knowing Burke’s penchant for taping his boys having sex, I believed him. From that point on, anytime I mentioned leaving, even after I turned eighteen, Burke would threaten to have Ben locked up if I left.” He gave a sad smirk. “Guess I was too good at my job. Wanna know the funny part? The whole thing was one big lie. Ralph wasn’t dead. The blow knocked him out, but except for one Louisville-Slugger sized headache, he was fine. Burke made the rest of it up to keep me right where he wanted me, and to get Ben out of his hair.”

Damn. And Dillon thought he’d had it rough. “When did you find out?”

“Six months ago, not long after Burke’s accident. I heard Burke and Jared arguing one afternoon. They didn’t know I was anywhere around. Seems that Burke was trying to cut Jared out of the business. He’d decided he didn’t need a partner, anymore, and he wasn’t happy about the fact that Jared was having sex with some of his boys. Jared was going through a laundry list of things he’d done to help Burke out, including helping him get rid of Ben by staging Ralph’s so-called murder. Jared threatened to tell me the truth if Burke dumped him, and he also threatened to expose Burke’s own dirty little secret.” Mitch’s mouth twisted. “I didn’t know what that secret was at the time, but I guess I do now, huh? God, I mean, I knew Burke was straight, but I thought he liked older women. Ones who at least qualified for a driver’s license.”

Jamie shivered, and Dillon pulled him in close without ever breaking eye contact with Mitch. “How did Burke respond to Jared’s threats?”

“In typical Burke fashion. He shrugged them off, told Jared he didn’t have any proof, and even if he got some, Burke was well connected enough to keep it from sticking.” Mitch shook his head in amazement. “Even flat on his back recovering from a car crash, Burke had one hell of a nerve. He told Jared to go ahead and tell me the truth, that I would never leave him, and that Jared would never have the balls to expose their little operation. On that last part, he was right. Apparently, Ben was the one who got the dirt on Burke and started blackmailing him.”

Dillon turned to look at Jamie. He could almost see the wheels in Jamie’s brain going round. Jamie said, “I think they both did.”

“Huh?”

“You said it yourself, Mitch. After what happened that night, why would Ben ever want to step foot inside that house again? Too much of a risk. To get the photos, he needed someone on the inside. Someone who could come and go when Burke wasn’t around. Someone who knew the boys and the layout of the house.”

Dillon said, “Someone like the mysterious Uncle Jared.”

Mitch crushed his cigarette butt against the top of the Coke can and dropped it inside. “Son-of-a-bitch, you’re right. Even with Burke trying to cut Jared out, he’d still have enough pull with the boys to get in and out of the place without Burke knowing. It’s not like the boys cared enough about Burke’s welfare to tell him that Jared was on the property. And Burke only had cameras set up in certain places. I should have thought of that the night Ralph was supposedly killed, but I was too damn scared to think rationally.”

Dillon did reach out and pat him on the arm then, relieved when Mitch didn’t flinch away. “Don’t beat yourself up over it, man. You did the best you could under the circumstances. Out of curiosity, though, why didn’t you leave when you found out that Burke and Jared had lied about Ralph?”

“I’ve asked myself that same question a thousand times. Scared, I guess. Where was I gonna go? I had a little bit of trick money saved up, but not enough to last any length of time, especially not after taking out the amount Lily guilted me into sending her each month. I was too old for foster care, and I’d burned all my bridges with Ben.” Mitch picked at a tiny hole just above the knee of his jeans. “I only have one skill, and Lily didn’t want me unless I ‘earned my keep,’ so it wasn’t like I had a whole lot of options. All that changed when I came home from a night of tricking and found Burke’s body shredded into hamburger on the front porch.”

Jamie closed his eyes, and Dillon wondered if he was remembering the pictures he’d seen at the police station. Opening them again, he said, “You were the one who found him?”

Mitch nodded. “Yeah, and from the looks of it, the killer hadn’t been gone long. If I’d gotten home about fifteen minutes sooner, there would have been two bodies lying on that porch.”

Dillon was horrified. “What did you do?”

“The only thing I could do. I made a run for it. I more or less flew upstairs, grabbed what cash I’d saved, then made a break for it before the cops got there. At least Burke had no objections to us owning our own cars. In fact, he liked it because he didn’t have to arrange a ride for us back and forth between jobs. All of the other boys were still out on their runs, so no one saw me. I hopped in my car, and I was outta there before I could get caught. When the police started their investigation, one of the guys who lived in the house gave them my name and told them I lived there, too. They traced me back to Lily, who was only too happy to help them since she figured she probably wouldn’t be getting any more money out of me. She called me on my cell phone and told me the cops were looking for me. She even sounded happy about it, the witch. But I played it cool. I went down to the station on my own and gave them my statement--something to the affect of not having seen or heard anything. They must have bought it, because they let me go with the standard, ‘If you think of anything that might help the case, please let us know.’ That was it. They were done with me, and I hit the road.”

That’s when Dillon remembered. “You said something earlier about Michigan. Is that where you went?”

“Yeah. I met this john a few months ago, one of the only ones who’s ever really been nice to me. He lives up there, but comes to Chicago every now and again on business. He’s a decent enough guy, only picks up hustlers who are over the age of eighteen. Anyway, he told me once if I ever needed anything, I could call on him. I made it seem like I was up that way for a visit or something.” Mitch pulled out another cigarette. “I’m sure he knew I was lying, but he’s cool enough not to ask any questions. I hid out with him until I called Lily three days ago to see if the heat was off. I more or less had to promise to pick up a few tricks and send her some cash just to get her to tell me anything. That’s when I found out you guys were looking for me. I drove straight here, and the rest, you know.”

Dillon had no idea listening to someone else’s story could be so emotionally draining. He ached deep inside for Mitch, and, as much as he hated to admit it, for Ben. He stood up and stretched. “So here’s what we’ve got so far. We know that Burke had a partner, and that he’s most likely the one who gave those pictures of Burke to Ben. Why do that though? Why use Ben to blackmail Burke?”

Mitch lit the second cigarette. “Because what Burke said was true. Jared wouldn’t have the balls under normal circumstances to do his own dirty work. He’d want someone else to handle the negotiations. Who better than Ben, a guy who hated Burke with every fiber of his being? Hell, knowing my brother, he jumped at the chance to give Burke a little payback.”

Jamie again moved to the edge of his seat. “Then it makes perfect sense that Burke would have turned all his anger on Ben. Maybe he thought Ben was acting alone. Maybe he thought killing Ben was the only way to get out from under the threat.”

“I’m still not buying it, James. I do think Burke was bluffing with Jared when he told him he wasn’t worried about having his secrets exposed. Otherwise, he never would have paid the blackmail in the first place. But the very fact that he did pay it rules out murder in my mind. If Burke was gonna kill Ben, he’d have done it right at the beginning, when Ben made his first demand. He wouldn’t have waited.” Mitch thought for a minute. “You said Ben was blackmailing another guy, some rich man whose son Ben was seeing. What about him? Could he have killed Ben?”

Jamie shook his head. “He was out of the country on a business trip. I checked. And even so, if your argument towards Burke being innocent is ‘why pay if you’re just gonna kill the guy,’ then the same could be said for Mr. Barnes, He paid Ben almost as much as Burke did. If he was gonna kill Ben or hire someone else to do it, why pay?”

Mitch thumped his ashes into the can. “There goes that theory.”

Dillon paced the living room. “I think you’re both overlooking the obvious. If Ben was willing to double cross Ash the way he did, who’s to say he didn’t double cross this Jared guy? We’re all reasonably sure that Jared and Ben had to be working together. Who’s to say Burke didn’t pay off Ben only to have Ben keep the whole thing, rather than giving said partner a cut?”

Jamie stood up then. “We could sit here all night talking this out and never know the truth. Until we find out who this Jared guy really is, and how he hooked back up with Ben after Ben left Burke’s, there’s no way to know whether we’re dead on or grasping at straws.” He started towards the kitchen, then stopped. “I’ve got a howling case of the munchies. You guys hungry?”

Dillon grinned. “You don’t even have to ask. You know I’m always hungry.” He looked down at Mitch. “How about you?”

Mitch rose to his feet and shook his head. “I should go. It’s late, and I’m sure you guys will want to hit the sack soon.”

Jamie said, “It’s not that late, and besides, you came all this way just to talk to us. The least we owe you is a meal, even if it is just a bologna sandwich and a bag of chips.”

Mitch plunked the remains of his cigarette into the can and carried it to the wastebasket at the edge of the kitchen. “You don’t owe me anything. I’m the one who owes you for being there for Ben when I wasn’t.” He paused. “There is one thing I’d like to ask of you, though.”

Dillon went on alert and stepped closer to Jamie. “Oh yeah, and what’s that?”

Mitch smiled. “You’re a regular guard dog where this boy’s concerned, aren’t you?” He smiled at Jamie. “You’re one lucky guy to have someone who loves you that much.” To both of them he said, “I was wondering if you had a picture of Ben I could have?”


Dillon was immediately ashamed. “Hey, man, I’m sorry. I had no idea you didn’t have any.”

“No harm, no foul. I have some old ones, a few from when we were kids, but nothing recent.” Mitch’s voice dropped and so did his eyes. “It’s been close to three years since I last saw him. I don’t even know exactly what he looked like when he died.”

Right at that moment, Dillon wished the damn apartment was wallpapered with pictures of Lewis, anything to ease this guy’s pain. But he didn’t have so much as a snapshot of Ben, and judging from the look on Jamie’s face, neither did he. Jamie said, “I don’t have a single picture. Ben hated photos. They had to make him take his school pictures for the yearbook.” The minute he said it, Jamie smacked himself on the forehead. “Of course. Ben’s picture is in last year’s yearbook. I’ll go ahead and show it to you now, then see if I can get you a copy from somewhere. Sit back down while I get it.”

Mitch smiled, the first real smile he’d given since walking in. “Thanks, man. That means a lot.”

Mitch took a seat in the same chair as before and waited for Jamie. He didn’t have to wait long. Jamie came in from the bedroom with last year’s book and stood on one side of Mitch’s chair, leaving Dillon to take the other. Flipping through the book, Jamie opened it to the page Ben was on and laid it in Mitch’s lap. “There you go.”

Mitch traced the face in the picture with one finger, so much hurt and longing in that one gesture that Dillon wanted to weep. Not surprisingly, the tears were flowing freely down Mitch’s cheeks when he looked up and said, “He looks so grown up in this picture. God, I wish I could have been there, especially when . . . well, you know.” He took a minute to clear his eyes, then said, “Are there any more pictures of him in here?”

Jamie grinned. “Knowing Ben, not if he could help it. But you can flip through and see. The yearbook staff always fills the extra pages with snapshots of the student body.”

Mitch nodded. “That part of high school I do remember.” He picked up the book and started flipping through. “I’m glad at least that Ben was sticking it out with school. I quit and never went back. I--” Mitch stopped and his entire face froze. He dropped the book face down and jumped to his feet. “What the hell kinda game are you trying to pull?”

Dillon rounded the chair and picked up the book. “What are you talking about?”

“You told me you didn’t know anything about Burke’s partner. I wanna know what’s going on, and I wanna know now.”

Dillon opened the book to the page it had fallen on and saw the full-page picture of Dan Morgan. “This? You mean Principal Morgan?”

“That’s what he’s calling himself?” Mitch searched first Dillon’s and then Jamie’s faces. “My God, you really didn’t know. Your Principal Morgan is my Uncle Jared. We just found Burke’s partner.”

Dillon dropped the book like it was a live coal. “Jesus.” He took one look at Jamie’s horrified expression and said, “That’s  

it. We’re calling Brandon. Now. If he’s not back from Chicago, the dispatcher’s just gonna have to track him down.” He looked at Mitch. “If you’re not gonna back us up on this, then you can leave.”

Mitch shook his head. “I’m with you all the way on this one.”

Jamie reached for the phone, just as Dillon heard a loud pop and the living room window exploded inwards in a hail of glass and bullets.

 {To Be Continued} 



The Way You Say My Name Ch. 18



Dillon threw himself towards Jamie, taking them both to the ground as glass showered the room. Mitch wasted no time following suit. Dillon tensed as he heard another shot being fired at almost the same instant, this one different in pitch. Worse though, was the silence that came afterwards.

He looked to Jamie. “Are you all right?”

“I’m not hurt, just pissed as hell that someone is shooting at us.”

Mitch, who was lying beside them, said, “Make that two someones.” When Jamie and Dillon both gave him blank stares, he said, “Unless I’m losing it, we have two separate guns firing on us.”

Well, fuck. Wasn’t that nice to know? Dillon reached for the cell phone he hoped he’d remembered to put in his pocket when they’d left for the auto-parts store what seemed like a lifetime ago. Pay dirt. He was just about to pull it out and call nine-one-one, when Sadie’s voice came floating through the window. “Are you boys all right in there?”

Jamie’s breath rushed out in a jagged rasp. “Oh God. Aunt Sadie’s out there by herself.” He struggled to get up. “We have to help her. We have to--”

Sadie’s voice came through just in time to put a stop to Jamie’s panic. “Jamie, if you’re through having the little episode I’m sure you’re having right about now, get your rump down here and help me tie this rascal up before the police arrive. I’m reasonably certain as to where his shot went. I know you’re all right.”

Dillon rose, pulling Jamie up with him and checking him from head to toe for injuries. He found a couple of shallow cuts on Jamie’s hands and arms, but nothing more serious. Jamie repeated the same inspection on Dillon and was quickly satisfied that Dillon’s cuts were no worse than his own. Mitch, too, seemed okay as he came to his feet and brushed the glass shards from his t-shirt and jeans. He had a few cuts himself, but all three of them seemed to have escaped any real harm. Sadie’s voice came through again as they were heading to the door. “Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. Somebody better get down here right now and shut this piece of trash up before I shoot him again.”

That was all it took to get them moving. The three of them were out the door, across the deck, and down the stairs in a heartbeat. Good thing Dillon hit the on-switch for the floodlights around the apartment as he was going out the door. He wouldn’t have gotten the full effect of what he was seeing, otherwise.

Sadie was standing at the base of the old oak tree which provided shade and privacy to Jamie and Dillon’s apartment. She was wearing a pink nightgown, a fuzzy purple robe, and a pair of honest-to-God bunny slippers. She was also holding a still-smoking twelve-gauge shotgun, the barrels trained on Dan Morgan’s quivering, bleeding body. Dillon, Jamie, and Mitch stopped just a few feet from the pair, shock and amazement keeping them rooted to the spot.

Morgan was lying on his side, the black silk turtleneck he wore peppered with holes from the middle of his back, up. His arms were sprawled out beside him, his black-trouser-encased legs curled in a fetal position. He started whimpering and pleading the minute he saw Jamie.

“James, thank God. You have to help me. Your aunt’s gone crazy. I was coming over here to ask you a question about the G.S.A.” Morgan’s normally oily voice was thick with obvious pain, but Dillon felt no sympathy. “This crazy old witch blasted me the minute I came into the yard. No warning, no reason. You have to call an ambulance. I’m dying.”

Sadie held the gun steady, her eyes pinned to the bead at the end of the barrels. A bead directly in line with Morgan’s head. “You’re not dying, you miserable weasel. I knocked your sorry self out of that tree with birdshot.” Sadie snorted. “Dying, my eye. I’ve been bird hunting at my daddy’s knee since I was old enough to hold a rifle. Not to mention the fact that I was the Reed County Country Club’s reining skeet champion six years in a row. Believe me, if I’d wanted you dead, you would be. You wouldn’t even be breathing, let only sniveling like the coward you are.” Sadie’s voice took on a menacing quality that sent chills coursing over Dillon’s skin. “But this is a double barrel shotgun, and I’ve only fired one shot. Do you know what that means?”

Morgan stammered a full ten seconds before getting out, “N-no.”

“It means, my boy, that I have one shot left. And you can bet your worthless butt that the second shell doesn’t contain game load. No, sir. It’s a slug, and I have no objection whatsoever to firing it directly into your empty skull.”

Mitch and Jamie were too shaken to speak, but Dillon went back to something Sadie had just said, “Aunt Sadie, did I hear you right? You shot Morgan out of that tree?”

“That’s exactly what I said. I was just heading down to the kitchen for a late night snack when I heard a noise in the back yard.” She spoke to Dillon, but never took her eyes off Morgan. “At first, I thought maybe I’d heard you and Jamie coming in from a date or some such, but when I looked out, I could see that your living room light was on, meaning you were probably up in the apartment, already. I felt like I should check on you, just to make sure everything was all right. I never go outside this late at night without some sort of protection, so I grabbed my father’s shotgun. Thank the heavens above I keep it loaded. The first thing I saw when I stepped out the back door was this imbecile,” she inclined her head towards Morgan, dislodging one green curler in the process, “climbing through the branches of that old oak. Even with the security lights on, I couldn’t tell just what he was doing until he got about twenty-feet up, just level with your living room window. That’s when the no-account-son-of-a-bitch pulled a revolver out of his pants and took aim.” Sadie gave a put-upon sigh. “Only a true idiot would use a pistol to shoot someone from that range, but his ignorance worked to my advantage. Morgan and I fired at almost the same instant, but my shot unbalanced him causing his shot to go wild. The recoil from the revolver, combined with the pain of the birdshot I sent up his way, knocked his fool ass out of the tree.” She nodded towards a shadowed spot a few feet away. “I believe you’ll find his weapon over there in the bushes. He dropped it when he fell.”

Even as injured as he was, Morgan kept protesting his innocence. “She’s crazy, I tell you. Looney as a tune. All I did was walk across the yard--”

Jamie spoke then, his voice laced with so much rage and raw hatred even Dillon flinched. “You’re the liar, Morgan. Or should I say, Uncle Jared?”

Morgan’s eyes went absolutely wild. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You have to help me, James. I’m bleeding to death.”

Mitch stepped up. “You know exactly what he’s talking about, you piece of shit. And I’m going to tell the cops every last one of your dirty little secrets. When I’m through with you, you’ll be lucky if they don’t crucify your ass.”

Morgan’s face twisted into a snarl, as much from the pain as anger. “Oh yeah? Who’s gonna believe the word of a ten-dollar whore like you?”

Dillon narrowed his eyes. “If you’re so innocent, Mr. Morgan, then how did you know Mitch used to be a hustler?”

Watching Morgan try to backtrack his way out of that one would have been funny if the guy hadn’t been so pathetic. As it was, Morgan’s pleas of denial made Dillon feel like he was going to be sick. Of course, Dillon’s nausea could be attributed to the fact that Morgan had just tried to kill them. The approaching sounds of sirens brought Dillon’s mind back into focus and away from his churning stomach.

A swarm of police officers and sheriff’s deputies filled the yard, but Dillon’s attention was centered solely on Brandon Nash, who was bearing down on them at a fair clip. He had his weapon drawn, but re-holstered it the minute he caught sight of Sadie and her shotgun.

“Miss Sadie, you wanna tell me why the principal of Plunkett High is lying in a bleeding heap with the end of that big ole’ gun you’re holding pointed at his head?”

Jamie answered for her. “Because Dan Morgan is a liar, a child molester, and a killer. I can prove it, Brandon. I think he killed Ben and his former foster father, and I know for a fact he just tried to kill us.”

Morgan was really desperate now. “You think I killed Ben? No, Burke did that. Don’t you see? He’d have killed me, too, if I hadn’t gotten to him first.” He raised one trembling arm and pointed to Mitch. “This is all your fault, you bastard. If you hadn’t come to Reed tonight, none of this would be happening.”

That was all it took to set the lot of them off. Mitch started shouting, swearing to see Morgan pay for what he’d done. Sadie was also carrying on about making Morgan pay, but not for his crimes. No, she wanted him to pay for the damage done to her window and the cleanup of any broken oak branches from her yard. Jamie was listing Morgan’s believed sins one by one, from blackmail, on. Dillon was doing his best to tell Brandon the story as he knew it, when Brandon put two fingers in his mouth and gave an ear splitting whistle.

“Hold on just a damn minute here. Miss Banks, give me that gun.” Once he’d gotten it away from her, Brandon emptied the slug from the chamber and handed it off to one of his deputies. “Bag that for me, please. And search the bushes around the house and the base of that tree. I’m almost certain I heard the word ‘revolver’ somewhere in the jumble of explanations and accusations they’ve all been spouting.” When the deputy was gone, Brandon rolled his eyes. “Why is it always you people? Thank God one of your neighbors heard the shots and called it in.” The ambulance pulled up, and a team of paramedics rushed out and headed towards Morgan. Brandon spoke to the man in charge. “Take Principal Morgan to County General, and make certain they understand that he’s to be kept under lock and key. From what I’ve just heard, I’m pretty sure he’s guilty of something.” Motioning for one of his deputies to step forward, Brandon said, “Dewey, send two of our men along with the ambulance, and have the rest of them canvas the scene.”

Dewey nodded. “You got it boss. Uh, what do you want me to do with them?” He pointed to Sadie and the rest.

Brandon sighed. “Take every last one of them down to the station, Miss Banks included. Oh, and Dewey?”

“Yes, sir?”

Brandon raked his fingers through his hair. “Make sure we have plenty of coffee. This ought to be one hell of a long story.”

      #

Jamie knew even before he turned over everything he’d been hiding for so long that he was looking at some serious trouble, but after five hours of answering questions and going through the story time and again, Jamie was starting to realize just how screwed he really was. Not even when the sheriff left to process all that evidence, was Jamie capable of feeling any relief. Brandon had been gone for almost an hour by Jamie’s count, leaving him alone in the interrogation room to stew about what was to come. If Bran’s intention had been to drive Jamie crazy with guilt and worry, it was sure working.

Just when Jamie thought he was gonna crack, the door opened and Brandon came back in. He looked haggard and worn, but not exactly angry. More like resigned. He sat down across from Jamie and slapped the folder he was holding on the table. “Go ahead. Read it.”

Jamie reached for the folder, not certain he wanted to open it, but doing so, anyway. Scanning the top paper, he said, “What is this?”

“A list of all the evidence you’ve turned over to us tonight, as well as a summary of your statement. Read over it and see if we’ve gotten it all. Oh, you might not want to read that last page, though.”

“Why? What’s on the last page?”

“A list of all the things I could charge you with right about now.” Brandon smacked his hand down on the table. “Jesus Christ, Jamie. What in the hell were you thinking?”

Damn. He just had to ask what was on that last page. But Brandon had asked him a question, and Jamie was gonna answer it. He was tired, and scared, and not a little bit angry. No, Brandon asked him a question, and damned if Jamie wasn’t gonna answer it.

“I wasn’t thinking, Sheriff.” 

Brandon made the mistake of taking Jamie’s statement as an apology. “You’re damn straight you weren’t thinking. You--”

Jamie stood up, cutting Bran off in the process. He was filled with a rage he hadn’t felt since the night Ben died. All the months of worry, of agonizing over who killed Ben and why, mixed in Jamie’s gut along with the all-consuming fear that he could’ve lost Dillon to Morgan’s bullet tonight. And all of it was due to the fact that Jamie couldn’t let well enough alone, with no one to believe him or offer him help, besides. All of that helpless wrath was what Jamie turned on Brandon, now. “Like I said, I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t thinking about the fact that my best friend was murdered and no one would believe me because they thought he was nothing but a two-bit hustler who deserved what he got.”

“Now wait just a minute, kid--”

Jamie gave him no quarter. “And I wasn’t thinking about the fact that Ben left me in charge of forty-two thousand dollars worth of dirty money and a letter that nearly destroyed an innocent guy’s life.”

“Jamie, wait--”

Jamie shook his head. “I’ve been waiting. Waiting for the truth to come out. Waiting for the same guy who killed Ben to come after me and Dillon. And that’s exactly what he did, Sheriff. Morgan came after me and the man that I love all because you dropped the fucking ball. I came to you for help and you let me down. You charge me all you want. Hell, it’s about time you sent someone to prison. Might as well be the guy who cracked the case you were too damn incompetent to break yourself. But whether you charge me or not, keep your damned lectures to yourself. Save them for someone who gives a shit.”

A deep, throaty chuckled sounded from the doorway. Jamie looked up to see a grinning Hank Kilgore standing just outside the interrogation room. Jamie had been so into his tirade, he hadn’t even heard the door open.

Kilgore said, “He’s got your number, Nash.”

Jamie looked at Brandon, surprised to see that he was smiling. “He may have my number, Kilgore, but you have to admit, he’s got yours, too. It’s a piss-poor day indeed when an eighteen-year-old kid cracks a case that two police departments and a ream of seasoned detectives couldn’t.”

Kilgore nodded. “True, but the kid had help. If I hadn’t screwed up and left Carpenter’s file within easy reach, James here couldn’t have swiped that paper with Mitch Harding’s name and contact info on it.” He turned to Jamie. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you should be in for that, kid? Tampering with evidence, coercion of a witness.” Kilgore grinned, again. “Practicing detective work without a license.” 

“I didn’t--”

Kilgore held up his hand. “Calm down, James. I talked to the D.A., and there won’t be any charges filed against you.”

Jamie sank back down into his chair, some of the frustration and anger subsiding as he digested what Kilgore had said. “There won’t be?”

Kilgore shook his head, his magnificent braids trailing over his shoulder. “Nope. You have your buddy Nash, here, to thank for that one. I may be grateful to you for giving us our prime suspect in Carpenter’s murder, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t ready to lock your lily-white ass up for screwing with my files. Lucky for you, Nash and I made a deal.”

“What kind of deal?”

Brandon answered that one. “Hank has a case he wants me to profile for him.”

“Profile? You mean, like F.B.I. stuff?”

Brandon nodded. “I was with the F.B.I. before I came back to Reed and ran for sheriff.” He laughed. “Despite what you might think, I’m not totally incompetent. No, I prefer to think of myself as only an occasional imbecile.”

Jamie’s own angry words flashed back to him. Before he could say anything, Kilgore said, “I’m not even gonna touch that one. As it so happens, I gotta run, anyway. Morgan just came out of surgery. I want to be there to question the bastard as soon as the anesthesia wears off.” Kilgore patted Jamie on the shoulder. “I know I should be grateful to you for everything you did, James, but heartfelt thanks aren’t exactly my style.”

“Not arresting me is thanks enough.”

Kilgore threw back his head and laughed. “I like you kid. I swear I do.” He left before Jamie could respond.

Jamie swallowed hard. He was still mad as hell, but he knew he owed Brandon for getting his ass out of a sling with Kilgore. He needed to say something, but he wasn’t sure what. As it happened, he didn’t have to say a word. Brandon did it for him.

Pointing to the file in Jamie’s hand, Brandon said, “If you’ll read over your statement there on the last page and sign it, I’ll send it over to the D.A.’s office and we’ll wrap your part of the investigation up. I’ve sent your aunt home already, though God knows if my deputies are still in one piece after taking her back to her house. She was one pissed off lady.”

Jamie didn’t doubt that, but it wasn’t Brandon’s statement about his aunt that had Jamie narrowing his eyes. “I thought you said all the things you were gonna charge me with were listed on the last page.”

Brandon’s grin was one part cockiness, two parts caring. “Yeah, well, I had to say something, didn’t I? From the minute I brought you in here, I could tell that you were about ten seconds away from imploding. I had to do something to get all that stuff out of your system.” When Jamie started to speak, Brandon held up his hand. “Before you start trying to take back what you said or make it sound better than it was, don’t. You were right. I did drop the ball.” Brandon sighed and leaned back in his chair. “It might surprise you to know this, Jamie, but I’m not perfect.”

Jamie bit back a smile. “No? Really?”

“I know, I know. It shocked the hell out of me, too, the day I realized it.” He came forward again, resting his elbows on his desk and looking Jamie right in the eyes, making his sincerity impossible to doubt. “I let you down in a big way by not believing you when you told me about Sledge and how you were sure he wasn’t the one responsible for Ben’s death. Of course,” Brandon wrinkled his nose, “you knew a few things that I didn’t, namely blackmail and extortion, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t have a job to do. I should have investigated your claim.” Brandon stood up and extended his hand. Jamie rose to his feet and grasped it, surprised at how comforting Brandon’s warm strength was to him. “I’m sorry, kid. Sorry for not listening, and sorry you didn’t feel like you could come to me for help.”

“That sorry business works both ways. I owe you for not coming to you in the beginning, the minute I found out about the money and then the pictures.” Jamie dropped Brandon’s hand and closed his eyes, the memory of Morgan’s shot and the sound of breaking glass still ringing in his ears. “Dillon begged me to go to you for help, but I was too damn stubborn. My mistake could’ve cost him his life.”

Jamie heard movement and opened his eyes to see that Brandon had rounded the desk and was now standing over him. He laid his hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “It takes one hell of a man to admit his mistakes, Jamie. I almost lost Nate once because of a mistake I made. I left him alone with the wrong man, and Nate almost paid for it with his life. It took me months to forgive myself for that one, and still, I have trouble accepting it.” Brandon shuddered. “Take my advice, kid. Spend a good, solid hour beating yourself up over it, and then let it go. Life’s too short to what-if yourself into an early grave.”

Jamie nodded. “I’ll do that.” He shuffled his feet as Brandon gave his shoulder one more squeeze and then returned to his side of the desk. Jamie had one more question to ask, and it was one he dreaded. “What happens now, with Morgan?”




The Way You Say My Name Ch. 18



Brandon sat down hard, weariness taking over. “It’s hard to say. Hank’s going to question him, confront him with the statements you and Mitchell Harding gave. And from what I’ve gathered, it shouldn’t be too hard to prove that Morgan was Burke Carpenter’s partner. His name alone is a good tip off.”

His name? “Don’t tell me . . .”

Brandon laughed. “You guessed it. The stupid fucker ran teenage prostitutes using his middle name. Seems Mr. Daniel Jared Morgan isn’t as smart as he wants the world to think he is.” Brandon waited until Jamie sat back down, then said, “We’ll have to wait until the investigation is done to get the full story on Morgan, but I have a feeling he’ll want to make some kind of deal before all this is over with.”

Jamie’s stomach clenched on the word “deal.” He remembered all too well how Barry Sledge had gotten off with a lighter sentence because the D.A. was overworked and ready to bargain. That brought on a whole new set of questions. “Brandon, what about Barry Sledge? Will he get out of jail now that Morgan is a suspect?”

Brandon hesitated. “Here’s the thing about Sledge, kid. He’s already admitted to running down Ben, and the damage to his car proves that he did hit Ben’s body. The only question now is whether or not Ben was already dead at the time of impact.”

Jamie shook his head. “But Morgan--”

Brandon picked up the sentence. “According to my deputy, Morgan swore up and down in the ambulance that Burke Carpenter is the one who killed Ben. Morgan claims he killed Carpenter because he thought that Carpenter was responsible for Ben’s death. Because of the blackmail, Morgan figured that he was next on Carpenter’s list.”

“There’s your confession, then.”

“I wish it were that easy, Jamie, but it isn’t. A good lawyer could claim that Morgan’s words were simply the rantings of an injured man, brought on by the pain. And even if we prove that Morgan killed Carpenter, that still doesn’t prove that Carpenter killed Ben. For all we know, Morgan may have killed them both. Or, Barry Sledge could have killed Ben, and then Morgan offed Carpenter thinking he was to blame.”

Jamie’s head was starting to hurt. He didn’t exactly relish the thought of Sledge being a free man--free, that is, to terrorize the streets during any one of his drunken marathons--but at the same time, Jamie wanted the man responsible for Ben’s death to pay. Not just any man, but the right man. He lifted his tired eyes to Brandon. “So, what now?”

“We wait until the investigation is finished, sift through the findings, and hope we have enough evidence to clear up this damned mess.” Brandon gave Jamie an apologetic shrug. “I know you were hoping for some smoking-gun conclusion straight out of the movies, but real police work doesn’t usually go that way. All we can do now is process what we’ve got, then wait until Morgan gives his statement and take it from there.”

Jamie nodded. “I understand, Brandon.” And he did. But knowing that Brandon was doing the best he could didn’t stop Jamie from hoping this would all be over. Soon.

      #

The first person Jamie saw when he finished reading over his statement and signing off on it was Dillon. He was slumped in one of the waiting area chairs, his hair matted to his head with sweat and dirt. He needed a good shave, the shadow on his face leaving a dark line. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep and sheer exhaustion. And still, he was the most beautiful creature Jamie had ever seen in his life. Nothing could have stopped Jamie from rushing across the room and pulling Dillon from his chair, his arms wrapping around Dillon’s waist so tight Jamie was in danger of knocking the breath out of him.

Dillon didn’t seem to notice. His sole focus was Jamie. He cradled him close, whispering words of love and offerings of devotion into Jamie’s ear. The words were nice, but Jamie didn’t need them. He had all he needed there, in his arms.

After a minute, Dillon pulled back enough to see him. His eyes searched Jamie’s face. “Are you okay?”

Jamie nodded. “I am now. God, Dillon, I was so scared for you. This is all my fault. If I’d only listened--”

Dillon put one finger to his lips. “Hush, baby. None of this is your fault. It’s Morgan’s fault--and Carpenter’s--for being such sick fucks.”

Jamie appreciated Dillon’s easy forgiveness, but he knew it was going to be a long time before he forgave himself. Then Brandon’s words came back to him. Spend a good, solid hour beating yourself up over it, and then let it go. Life’s too short to what-if yourself into an early grave. Jamie closed his eyes and took Brandon’s advice.

When he finally opened then again, Jamie scanned the room but saw no sign of the man he was looking for. “Where’s Mitch?”

Dillon stroked Jamie’s hair back from his face. “They took him back to Chicago to answer some questions about Burke’s murder and about the day-to-day dealings of his operation. He promised to get back in touch with us when all this is over with, and I believe him.”

Jamie leaned, again, into Dillon’s embrace. “Yeah. For everything that’s happened to him, Mitch seems like a decent guy. Not like . . .” He couldn’t say it. Couldn’t, even now, form words against his best friend.

Dillon understood. He planted a kiss just below Jamie’s jaw. “Ben did what he had to do to survive, Jamie. I’m not saying I approve of his methods, but after seeing how he was forced to live, I can’t say I wouldn’t have done something just as desperate in the same situation.”

“You wouldn’t have. You’re stronger than that. I just thank God you’re okay. That my fuck-up didn’t kill you.”

Dillon pulled out of the embrace and took Jamie’s hand. “I told you I didn’t want to hear that kind of talk.” He led him towards the door. “Let’s get out of here. I want to give you a good going over to make sure you aren’t hurt.” When Jamie started to protest, Dillon laughed. “I know the medics checked us when we got to the station, but I have a different kind of examination in mind, and I don’t think the Reed County Sheriff’s Office is ready to see it.”

Jamie didn’t need any more encouragement that that.

      #

It was pushing five o’clock in the morning when Dillon and Jamie finally left the station. They took a cab back to the apartment, even though Brandon and several of the deputies offered them a ride. Dillon wanted Jamie all to himself, and he was pretty sure the cab driver would pretend not to notice all the cuddling and kissing going on in the backseat. As it turned out, he was right. The cabby didn’t so much as comment, though Dillon was sure he must have seen Dillon fondling Jamie as he glanced in the rearview mirror. Dillon could have cared less. Let him look.

The driver refused to take any money when he dropped them off, saying Sheriff Nash had already taken care of the fare, tip included. Dillon thanked the guy one last time as he and Jamie got out and headed up the driveway to their apartment.

The front door was open. That was the first thing Dillon noticed as he topped the stairs and hit the landing. He felt a frisson of unease race down his back until he heard the sounds of a broom raking up broken glass. That could only be one person. He pushed the door open further and was told, “Well, don’t just stand there like a ninny. Grab the dust pan and hold it for me.”

Dillon leaned down and gave Sadie a kiss on the cheek. “You don’t have to do this, you know. Jamie and I can clean up this mess.”

Sadie waved that away as Jamie bent down to give her a kiss of his own and Dillon grabbed the dustpan. “The fact remains that Morgan should be over here cleaning this place up, not us. I wish now I’d shot the scoundrel in his good-for-nothing ass.” Sadie swept the last of the glass into the pan. “That way, he’d think of me every time he sat down.”

Dillon grinned. “I don’t think he’s gonna forget you anytime soon.” He took the dustpan over to the trash and emptied it. “Nobody else will, either. You’re a hero. You saved our lives.”

Sadie shook her head. “A lot of nonsense, that. Morgan isn’t exactly a crack shot. I doubt seriously if he actually had the skill to hit you. Not at that range, anyway.” But even as she said it, Dillon could see that she was shaking.

Jamie must have seen it, too. He took the broom away from his aunt and set it aside, folding her into a tight hug. “You always did have trouble taking compliments. Well, tough. I’m gonna give you one anyway. You saved our butts tonight. Thank you.”

Sadie returned his hug tenfold. “I’m just so thankful you’re both okay.” She pinched Jamie’s side, causing him to jump back with a yelp. 

“Ouch. What did you do that for?”

“For scaring me half to death.” Sadie grabbed him back up and hugged him again. “You’ve kept this old woman going for the last fourteen years. Sheriff Nash filled me in on all the little secrets you’ve been keeping.” Jamie tensed, and Sadie continued with, “Now, before you get your drawers all in a twist, I’m not angry, and I’m not going to question you any further. Let me just say this. If you think I’m going to lose you now, just when I’m getting the hang of this mothering thing, you’re sadly mistaken. Next time you need help, you’d better well ask for it.”

Dillon could see Jamie’s smile from over the top of Sadie’s head. “Understood. Now why don’t you go on home and soak in a hot bath? You know that always makes you feel better. Dillon and I will clean up the rest of this.”

Sadie took them at their word. After soundly kissing them both, she left them to it.

It took Dillon and Jamie another half an hour to sweep up all the glass and to cover the window with cardboard. Sadie told them before she left that the glass man would be coming first thing Monday morning to put in a new window pane. Cardboard wasn’t the ideal substitute, but it would have to do.

By the time they finished, Jamie was swaying on his feet, and Dillon wasn’t far behind him in the tired department. He pushed Jamie into the kitchen. “Sit down while I fix us something to eat. We never did get that late supper we started to have.”

“No, we didn’t. I’ll help you, though. Between the two us, surely we can find something edible.”

“Something edible” turned out to be day-old chocolate donuts and two tall glasses of chocolate milk. Sadie would have had a fit if she’d seen their idea of breakfast, but it would have to do. Dillon was just too tired to go out for anything else.

Jamie finished up and put their glasses in the sink. Turning to Dillon, he said, “You ready for bed?”

It was a mark of Dillon’s exhaustion that Jamie’s words didn’t bring the slightest stirring below his belt. Even the examination he’d promised Jamie at the sheriff’s station was going to have to wait. Holding Jamie in his arms would have to do until they both got some sleep. And from the look on Jamie’s face when they finally climbed into bed together and Dillon had pulled him in as close as possible, holding him was more than enough.

      # 

How long they slept, Dillon wasn’t sure, but it was nearly dark outside when the sounds of loud knocking woke him up. Careful not to wake Jamie, he slid out of bed and grabbed a clean pair of jeans from the closet. Pulling them on, he walked into the living room, wincing when a small piece of glass they’d missed in their cleaning bit into his bare foot. Hopping towards the door, Dillon pulled it open and came face to face with his parents.

Douglas Carver was his usual, disinterested self, looking at Dillon with a mixture of speculation and contempt. It was Angela who took over, her voice sympathetic and soothing. “Oh, Dillon, thank god you’re all right. You father and I were worried sick.” It wasn’t until she’d pushed her way past Dillon and into the apartment that he realized she and Douglas were not alone. 

Accompanying them was a slender man about the same height as Dillon. He was carrying a medical bag and wore an old fashioned fedora on his head. Dillon guessed his age to be about sixty, and from the look on his narrow face, the guy was on a mission.

He stuck out his hand, seemingly unfazed when Dillon refused to take it. “Dillon, I’m Dr. Henderson. Your parents have told me so much about you.”

Jesus. Henderson, the shrink his father had been pressuring him to see. “Yeah, I’ll just bet they have.”

Again, Angela stepped in. “Dillon, we brought Dr. Henderson here because we heard about your ordeal from one of the ladies at church this morning. We’re just certain after what happened last night that even you can see how dangerous living this lifestyle is.”

Dillon fought hard not to laugh in his mother’s face. “You think my being gay caused Dan Morgan to try and kill me?”

Angela sniffed. “Don’t be clever with me, Dillon. You know what I mean. You must know that none of this would have happened to you if you hadn’t hooked up with James Walker in the first place.”

Despite the generous amount of sleep he’d had, Dillon was still tired, worn out from all he’d been through. He had no intention of going through all this again. Turning his full attention on the doctor, Dillon said, “You’ve wasted your time coming here. I have no intention of becoming your patient or listening to hour after hour’s worth of lectures on the evils of homosexuality. You and my parents can show yourselves out.”

Henderson ignored Dillon and looked straight to his father. “I see what you mean, Douglas. Dillon is obviously suffering from self-destructive impulses. I might even go so far as to classify him as having suicidal tendencies. I think Dillon is a prime candidate for involuntary commitment.”

Involuntary commitment? Suicidal tendencies? What in the hell was this guy talking about? Dillon was starting to get scared. “You can’t do that to me. There’s nothing wrong with me, and you know it.”

Henderson’s smile turned nasty. “On the contrary, I can and I will. I’m a respected psychologist. All I have to do is sign the papers saying I believe you’re a danger to yourself, and you’ll be locked up in a state hospital by nightfall.”

Dillon felt the cold grip of panic seize his heart. He reached for the only person in the room he thought might have mercy on him. “Mom, please don’t let him do this.”

“I’m sorry, Dillon. It’s the only way.” Turning to Henderson, she said, “Do it. Have him locked up for as long as it takes.”

Dillon backed away, but his father stepped behind him, blocking his path towards the bedroom. “Don’t you have anything in that bag to sedate the boy? The sooner we get him out of here, the better.”

Henderson nodded and reached into his bag, pulling out a pre-filled syringe. “Of course. I never travel without the proper equipment. A mixture of Haldol and Ativan ought to keep him calm. The two of us will have to carry him out, but it’s a small price to pay.” He started towards Dillon with the syringe. Dillon tried to run, but his father was stronger. Doug had him pinned in place, his arms locking Dillon’s behind his back and rendering Dillon immobile. There was nothing Dillon could do. He waited for the sting of the needle, but it never came. What did come was a loud crash and the splintering of wood as his little league baseball bat cracked against the back of Douglas Carver’s skull. Doug let go of Dillon and sank to the floor.

The minute Jamie brought the bat down on Doug’s head, he dropped it and grabbed Dillon’s hand, pulling him forward with unheard of strength and propelling Dillon out of his stupor and towards the front door. Henderson and Angela were too busy seeing after Doug to try and stop them.

As they raced down the steps, Jamie pulled Dillon’s car keys out of his pocket and tossed them to Dillon. Dillon jumped into the driver’s side. Jamie had just climbed in and gotten buckled when Henderson, Doug, and Angela came charging out after them. Dillon gunned the motor of the Lumina and took off in the direction of the sheriff’s station. It wasn’t until he was on the main road that he noticed both he and Jamie were wearing nothing more than a pair of jeans each. Dillon pulled the car onto a side road and changed directions.

“Where . . where are we going?” Jamie was shaking so hard he could barely get the words out.

“I was headed for Bran’s office, but I changed my mind. We’ll try his house, first. With any luck, he’ll be there, and if he’s not, Nate might be.”

Jamie only nodded, hugging himself even though it wasn’t all that cold in the car. The temperature was pretty mild for early April, but Dillon knew Jamie’s chills came from within. After an agonizing silence, Jamie said, “I know how Ben felt.”

Dillon hadn’t expected that one. “What do you mean?”

“The night Ben hit that guy who was roughing up Mitch. I knew how Ben felt the minute I swung that bat at your father’s head. That’s where I got the idea, from Mitch’s story.” Jamie shivered. “I thought I’d killed him until I saw him coming out the door behind Henderson and your mom.” He put his face in his hands. “I didn’t want to do it, but I didn’t have a choice. They were gonna take you out of the house, give you that shot.”

Dillon increased the pressure of his foot on the accelerator. “I know, baby. I know. We’ll make this right, Jamie, I swear it.”

Dillon let out the breath he’d been holding the minute he pulled into the driveway and saw the Sheriff-mobile, as Megan always called the government issue S.U.V. Brandon used when he was on duty. Seeing Nate’s car there as well reassured Dillon even more. Unless the two of them were out for a drive in Brandon’s Camaro, there was a good chance they were both home.

Dillon got out first, the pine needles and rocks that lined the driveway pricking his bare feet. He went around to Jamie’s side and helped him out, much like he had the day Jamie found out about Ben’s death and went into shock. God, Dillon hoped Jamie wasn’t going to go through that again. From the look of him, though, it was a real possibility.

Brandon met them at the door, still wearing his uniform. “Get your asses in here. I was just about to go out and look for you.” He surprised them both by enfolding them in his arms. “Do you have an idea how worried I was when I heard the call from your father come over the scanner?”

“Shit. He called the cops on us?”

Brandon pulled them into the house, one arm still wrapped around each of them. “’Fraid so. He called the city cops, naturally, instead of my office. He wants to have Jamie locked up for assault.” Brandon let go long enough to close the door behind them. Seeing the look on Jamie’s face, he pulled him back in close and said, “Relax, kiddo, nobody’s gonna lock you up. The chief of police is giving me time to put this thing together before he even comes to question you.”

Jamie was too shaken to answer, but Dillon said, “Put what thing together? What’s going on? Do we need a lawyer?”

Brandon moved them towards the kitchen. “I’ll tell you all of that in just a minute. First thing we’re gonna do is get the two of you warmed up and settled down. Then you’re gonna tell me every last thing that happened, from the minute your parents walked in the door until the minute Jamie cracked good old Dougie on the back of the head. Damn, I wish I’d seen that.”

Nate met them in the kitchen, directing Dillon and Jamie to have a seat at the kitchen table. Coming back with two steaming mugs, he said, “I wasn’t sure if the two of you would want coffee or hot chocolate, but chocolate is more soothing, so I went with that.” After setting a mug in front of each boy, Nate knelt down beside Jamie’s chair. “How you holding up, buddy? You feeling okay?”

Before Jamie could speak, Brandon came in from the laundry room holding a couple of long sleeved t-shirts. “My shirt will probably fit you, Dillon, but even Nate’s will swallow Jamie alive. Still, they’ll do until I can send someone to your house to pick up some of your stuff. I don’t care if it is the end of April. It’s still too cold outside for the two of you to be running around in nothing but blue jeans. ” He handed the first shirt to Jamie. “You need Dillon to help you with that, slugger?”




The Way You Say My Name Ch. 18



Nate groaned. “Real sensitive, Nash.”

But Jamie laughed, the sound more precious to Dillon than anything he owned. If Jamie was laughing, then he probably wasn’t going into shock, thank God. “It’s okay, Nate. I’m fine, just a little shaky.” He reached across the table and took Dillon’s hand. “I guess our little league coach was wrong, huh? I can hit the broad side of a barn.”

Dillon grasped his fingers, and Brandon said, “I guess now would be as good a time as any to tell me what happened. Like I said, Chief Skinner is giving me time to get all this settled, but the sooner we deal with it the better.”

Nate gave them both a pat on the back and then, indicating his scrubs-clad body, said, “I just got home from work, so I’m gonna go upstairs and shower. Sasha’s still penned up in the sun-porch, so you shouldn’t be disturbed.”

Dillon and Jamie both nodded as Nate left, and Brandon walked across the room to one of the far cabinets, taking out a mini-tape recorder and coming back to claim a seat at the table. Placing the recorder in the center, he said, “I’m gonna tape this as we go, so be sure not to leave anything out.”

Dillon went first, going over every detail be could remember, from the opening of the door to his near-injection by Dr. Henderson. Jamie picked up the story then, telling how he heard Dillon arguing with his parents and about Henderson’s promise to have Dillon locked up. He went on to talk about grabbing Dillon’s old bat from the closet. He even told Brandon and the tape recorder about where the idea came from. Brandon only nodded, having gotten the rundown on that story from Mitch late the night before. As soon as Jamie finished, Brandon pressed the stop button and turned to Dillon.

“So you never actually asked your parents to come inside?”

Dillon shook his head. “My mother just sorta barged in when I opened the door. The other two followed her inside.”

Brandon nodded. “Sounds like self-defense to me. Jamie was doing what it took to defend his partner within the confines of his own home. I can’t see any D.A. in his right mind bringing Jamie up on charges for that.”

The word “charges” had Jamie gasping for breath. “Am I going to need a lawyer, Brandon? You never did tell us if we needed one.”

The backdoor swung open just as Jamie was asking the question, and Dillon heard the clattering of high-heels across the floor of the mudroom. A honey-sweet voice said, “Did I hear someone say ‘lawyer?’ Don’t you know that’s a dirty word around most parts?”

Dillon recognized the tiny redhead the minute she came into the kitchen. Alicia Nash Wilton, Brandon’s sister. He’d seen her more than once at the Nash family get-togethers and church dinners Megan had dragged him to. She seemed nice enough, but Dillon knew little about her other than the fact that she was a prosecutor for the D.A.’s office in Chicago. The minute the thought crossed his mind, Dillon’s whole body stiffened. Surely she wasn’t here to file charges against Jamie. No way was he going to let that happen.

Alicia must have seen the look on his face, because she started laughing, the sound so much like Megan’s laughter that Dillon relaxed in spite of himself. “Calm down, Dillon. I was just teasing about ‘lawyer’ being a dirty word.” She gave her brother a kiss on the cheek. “Sheesh. Talk about a tough room.”

Dillon blushed. “Sorry about that. Jamie and I have had a rough evening.”

Alicia nodded. “That’s why I’m here.” She smiled at Jamie. “I heard the question you asked my brother, and the answer is no. You don’t need a lawyer. You’ve got me.”

    {To Be Continued}   



The Way You Say My Name Ch. 19



Despite the fact that he’d only seen Alicia Wilton a few times around town, Jamie found himself trusting the woman. Her manner reminded him of Megan’s, warm and open, not the kind of woman who’d keep secrets or lie to him. Jamie relaxed just a fraction, more than he would have thought possible under the circumstances.

Alicia plopped her briefcase down on the table. “When Brandon called me, he told me that the two of you were in trouble and that Dillon’s father was pressing charges for an alleged assault. Bran was on his way out to look for you, last I heard, and he wanted me to come here and wait until he found you. I’m guessing he did.”

“Actually, these two found me. I was on my way out the door when they showed up here.” Brandon stood up and pulled a chair out for his sister. As soon as she was seated, he walked over to the counter and poured her a mug of coffee. “You still take it black, munchkin?”

Alicia rolled her eyes at her brother, but her comments were for Jamie and Dillon. “I’m almost thirty-years-old, and the big jerk still calls me munchkin.” To Bran, she said, “Unless that’s decaf, you’d better drink it yourself. I’m off caffeine for the next seven-and-a-half months.”

Brandon’s entire face changed. “For the same reason you were off caffeine the last time?”

Alicia nodded. “Yep. Emily’s gonna be a big sister.”

Brandon came back to the table, lifting Alicia out of her chair and into his arms. “Congratulations to all three of you, Miss Emily Jane Big Britches, included.” He stepped back, his expression changing from elation to concern. “Emily’s only eighteen months old. Doesn’t your doctor think it’s a little too soon for you to be getting pregnant, again?”

Alicia laughed as she sat back down. “Some couples don’t wait even that long to start trying. My obstetrician tells me I’m in perfect health, and Garth and I want our kids to be close together. We don’t plan on having a whole brood like Mom and Dad did, either. Two will do rather nicely, I think.”

Bran nodded and sat down beside Alicia. “If the new addition is anything like Emily, two will be a houseful.” He pushed the tape-recorder in Alicia’s direction. “I could talk about my nieces and nephews all night, but Ronald Skinner’s doing me a favor on this one, so we’d better get down to it. Everything the boys told me is on this tape.”

Alicia’s blue eyes widened. “Ronald Skinner, the chief of police?”

“One and the same.”

Alicia reached for the tape recorder. “This I’ve got to hear.”

Jamie reached for Dillon’s hand, worried about how silent he’d been for the last few minutes. Thankfully, Dillon squeezed back, his way of letting Jamie know he was all right. 

Alicia started the tape. A couple of times during the re-play, Jamie looked in Dillon’s direction. He looked tired, his beloved face drawn and weary, but he didn’t seem overly upset. Not compared to what they’d been through, anyway. Jamie turned his attention back to Alicia just in time to see her push the stop button on the tape recorder. It wasn’t until he heard the click that Jamie realized Alicia had turned the tape recorder off at the mention of Henderson’s name.

“Henderson? Not Lyle Henderson?”

Dillon shrugged. “I’m not sure. He never gave his first name, and I didn’t want to know, anyway.”

Alicia’s face was sweet sympathy itself. “No, sweetie, I guess you didn’t.”

Brandon said, “Why do you ask?”

“I need to finish listening to the tape before I say anything else, but if this guy is the same Dr. Henderson I think he is, he’s your key to getting Jamie and Dillon off the hook for this so-called assault.” Alicia turned the tape back on, this time taking a steno pad and pen out of her briefcase. Jamie watched as she scribbled notes in a graceful, flowing script that made his own handwriting look like chicken scratches. As soon as the tape finished, Alicia said, “I’ll need confirmation, but I’m almost certain this Henderson is the same guy our office has been investigating for the last two years.” She smiled at Dillon. “You and your little twinkie here may have just given us the evidence we need to make an arrest. At least we can get a warrant to search his office and home.”

Jamie was completely in the dark. “I don’t get it. Am I being arrested for cracking Dillon’s father on the head?”

Alicia tossed her notebook back into the briefcase. “Nope, not if I can help it, and I’m darn sure I can.” She pulled a hot pink cell phone out of the lining of the case, grinning when she saw her brother’s smirk. “What? Even a prosecuting attorney needs to have a little bit of style.” She punched in a series of numbers from memory and then waited. Jamie could hear a click, like someone picking up on the other end. Alicia said, “Bruce? Hi, it’s Al.” Pause. “I’m fine, but I need a favor.” Pause. “Yes, I know I still owe you from the last favor, but this is important. It’s about the Henderson case. I need you to get together everything you’ve got on the guy and meet me at this address.” She rattled off Brandon’s location and then listened again to the man on the other line before saying, “I’m not sure just yet, but I think we may have finally nailed the S.O.B.”

#

Not long after the phone call, Nate left, saying he had errands to run. Dillon was pretty sure Nate was leaving to give them some space, which only added to his nervousness. If Nate was leaving his own home so that Brandon and Alicia could handle his and Jamie’s case, this thing had to go way beyond a simple assault charge. Jamie called Aunt Sadie to let him know what was going on. Her thoughts must have echoed Dillon’s, because she gave Jamie a real earful. Brandon took the phone away from Jamie’s ear, talking to her with that commanding air of his and making Sadie promise to stay put until further notice. 

Bruce Seaford, Alicia’s friend and special investigator for the D.A.’s office, showed up at Brandon’s place about an hour later, carrying an overfilled, accordion style file folder. Dillon estimated him to be in his thirties, and though he wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous, he had a pleasant face and a genuine smile that made Dillon feel comfortable around him. But Seaford wasn’t alone. The man who came into the kitchen behind him was the polar opposite of Seaford. He wasn’t smiling, and no one could ever accuse the guy of being merely pleasant. 

It wasn’t that the guy was hard on the eyes. In fact, he was handsome to the extreme. His finely chiseled features and honed body could have easily graced the cover of an art magazine under the heading of “perfect specimen.” His hair was the color of honeyed wheat, tousled slightly, but in no way detracting from the total picture. Seaford was wearing casual clothes--a wrinkled flannel shirt and a pair of faded jeans--but his companion was dressed for business, his pants expertly tailored, his shirt crisp and immaculate. Even so, nothing about the second man suggested he was anything other than a regular guy who’d come to help with the investigation. Nothing that is, except his eyes. They were a shade of deep silver that missed nothing, following everyone in the room with eerie perception. Dillon felt chill bumps race along the tops of his arms. Something about the man spoke of a quiet power that even had Jamie fidgeting in his chair.

If Brandon had the same reaction to the guy, he hid it well. He greeted both the new arrivals at the door, calling them by name. He slapped Bruce on the back and shook the other man’s hand with a friendly, though reserved, smile. “Dr. Carson, it’s good to see you again.”

Carson? Wasn’t that the doctor who was helping Ash? The man returned Brandon’s smile. “Please, call me Dex. I’m not here in a professional capacity.” He looked to Dillon and Jamie. “I’m here to help.”

The minute he said it, Dillon started to relax. Maybe it was the confidence in Carson’s voice when he said the word “help.” Or maybe it was the way he looked at them with compassion, but not a trace of pity. Whatever the case, Dillon’s chill bumps faded and the knot in his stomach loosened.

Alicia took over from there, asking the men to take a seat while she filled Dillon and Jamie in. “Let me make formal introductions, and then we’ll get down to business. James Walker and Dillon Carver, I’d like you to meet Bruce Seaford and Dexter Carson. They’re here to help us sort through this mess and get Jamie out of trouble and back home where he belongs.”

“Can I get you guys some coffee?”

Both men nodded a yes to Brandon’s question, declining cream and sugar and thanking him as he placed a mug in front of each of them. He then asked Dillon and Jamie the same question, but neither took him up on it, having barely drunk any of the hot chocolate they’d been given earlier. And besides, he didn’t know about Jamie, but the last thing Dillon needed was to put caffeine on his already raw nerves.

As Brandon reclaimed the place next to his sister, Bruce settled himself into the chair across from Jamie and next to Brandon, leaving Carson to take the seat facing Dillon. “So, what have we got, Al?”

Alicia reached for the tape recorder. “You can hear it for yourselves and then decide.”

For the second time in as many hours, Dillon heard his own words played back to him. The first time he’d listened to the retelling of the story, he’d been scared to death and trying desperately to hide it. Now, though, he was less apprehensive. He was worried about Jamie, sure, and about being locked up in some crazy ward by that wacko, Henderson. But the way Alicia and Brandon had rallied to their defense soothed Dillon. He was starting to feel the first glimmers of hope.

When the tape was done, Bruce reached down beside his chair and grabbed the file folder, placing it on the table. Unclasping the latch, he removed six, eight-by-ten photos from the first compartment and slid them across the table to Dillon. Each one was of a different man, only one of whom Dillon knew. Bruce said, “I need you to look at each picture, Dillon, and tell me if the man who identified himself as Henderson is in there. Take your time.”

Dillon didn’t need to take his time. Just seeing Henderson’s semi-smiling face, even in a photograph, was enough to make his stomach lurch. He slid the pictures--Henderson’s on top--back across the table to Bruce. “That’s him.”

“You sure?”

“Not a doubt in my mind, Mr. Seaford. That’s the guy who tried to give me the shot.”

Jamie seconded Dillon’s vote. “I only saw the guy for a few minutes, but I know it’s him.” 

Bruce looked like a kid at Christmas. “What do you think, Al? Is it enough to get a warrant?”

Alicia nodded. “Henderson is a Ph.D., not an M.D., which means he doesn’t have the right to give out meds. We also have Dillon’s statement that Henderson tried to give him an injection. That should at least be enough to get us in the door so we can search his office.”

Jamie said, “I don’t wanna seem dense or anything, but could somebody please tell us what’s going on? What does Henderson have to do with me hitting Dillon’s father over the head with a bat?”

“With the actual assault, nothing. With the case, everything.” Alicia turned her chair enough to clearly see them both down the length of the farmhouse table. “Lyle Henderson is a psychologist from Chicago who prides himself on being able to take gay men and ‘turn’ them straight. That’s what he claims, anyway. Because Henderson is a doctor of theology, and not medicine, he can’t prescribe or administer the type of drugs Dillon heard him tell Douglas Carver were in that syringe. That’s a felony, and should be enough to convince a judge to issue a warrant so we can find what we’re looking for.”

Brandon said, “I get the feeling you aren’t looking to bust this guy just for dispensing without a license. Off the record, what gives?”

Alicia looked to Bruce. “You think it’s okay to give the boys the full story.”

Bruce nodded. “I don’t see why not. They have a right to know, especially since they’re in the middle of all this mess. The way I see it, Dillon’s father involved him the minute he and his wife brought Henderson into their son’s apartment.”

“I agree.” Alicia clasped her hands in front of herself. “Everything I’m about to tell you guys is strictly off the record, meaning basically if you tell anybody I told you, I’ll deny it with my last breath.” She directed her next statement to Dr. Carson. “Can you handle this, Dex?”

“I’m fine, Alicia. I’m here to help any way I can.” Carson seemed calm, but Dillon could see something brewing just below the surface of the man, some inner tension. Whatever it was, it made Dillon shiver.

Alicia didn’t comment. Instead, she went right into the story. “Lyle Henderson subscribes to the old school practice of treating homosexuality as a disease. A mental illness, if you will. He believes that homosexuality can be cured with the right treatments. His treatment of choice is aversion therapy.”

Brandon whistled. “Damn.”

Dillon was lost. “What’s ‘aversion therapy?’”

Carson leaned forward. “Alicia, I’d like to take it from here, if that’s okay.”

“If you’re sure you’re up to it.”

“I am.” Carson stretched his tall, lanky frame and sat back in his chair. “Aversion therapy is the process of using negative reinforcement to turn a person away from a certain behavior or thought process. There are different ways it can be done, but in the case of sexual aversion therapy, doctors generally rely on shock treatments. They show gay and lesbian patients a series of nude or even pornographic pictures. When the patient looks at pictures of the opposite sex, nothing happens. But the minute the patient sees a picture of his or her own gender, electrodes secured to the skin deliver a mild electric shock.”

Alicia shuddered. “Is it just me, or does that sound positively barbaric to anyone else?”

Brandon said, “It’s not just you. Hell, I have a degree in forensic psychology, and I still don’t understand it. Not in the case of homosexuality, anyway. I’ve heard of aversion therapy being mildly successful in some other areas, but never that one.”


“Aversion therapy in general has fallen out of favor with a large section of the psychiatric community for that very reason. It’s simply not as effective as other, more humane treatment methods. And thankfully, most therapists and doctors now view homosexuality as a sexual preference one is born with and has no control over, rather than a disease.” Carson sighed. “Unfortunately, there are still a few holdouts--dinosaurs like Henderson--who think being gay is a mental illness. Some of these guys will do anything to ‘cure’ a patient who’s gay. And I do mean anything.”

Alicia picked up the thread. “That’s where my office comes in. For over two years now, the D.A. in Chicago has been investigating Henderson for the abuse of his patients.”

Jamie scrunched his brows. “I don’t get it. If aversion therapy is used by lots of doctors, then why is Henderson in trouble for doing the same thing?”

“Because Henderson doesn’t stop at simple aversion therapy, James.” This coming from Bruce Seaford. “The D.A. brought me in to investigate allegations from more than one of Henderson’s former patients, allegations ranging from the patients being stung repeatedly with high voltage cattle-prods to being starved for days on end, kept in locked cells without food and water. Because most of these patients were teenagers at the time of treatment and only came forward as adults years later, the statute of limitations has expired, and there’s nothing we can do. Not for those patients, anyway. Our hands are further tied by the fact that Henderson isn’t a medical doctor. He doesn’t have hospital privileges--which makes his threat to have Dillon locked up in an institution laughable--nor does he see just any patients. It’s always harder to bust someone who’s in private practice, mainly because his records are harder to access.”

“But not anymore.” Alicia’s expression was pure satisfaction. “The minute Henderson pulled out that syringe, he opened himself up for investigation. All we have to do is secure a warrant and see what we can find.” She smiled at Jamie. “Now, you asked me a question. I believe you wanted to know what Henderson’s past had to do with you.”

“Yeah.”

“Jamie, when Douglas Carver held Dillon so that Henderson could dope him up, Douglas became Henderson’s accomplice. If we can prove that Henderson acted to harm Dillon and that Doug was helping to commit said harm, then yours becomes a case of self-defense, pure and simple.”

“How can it be self-defense if Dillon was the one threatened and not me?”

Brandon said, “I can answer that one. Because, kiddo, every man has a right to defend his spouse or his family. Since you and Dillon are partners, you have the right to defend him as you would yourself.”

“Yep. That about sums it up.” Alicia reached back into her briefcase, retrieving her phone and rising to her feet. “If you’ll please excuse me, I’ll call my boss and let him know what we’ve got so far. Hopefully, we’ll have a warrant before the night is out.”

Bruce stood as well, taking Brandon’s tape recorder with him. “I need to make copies of this. I have another recorder in my car that should do the trick.”

Brandon waited until Seaford was gone, then said, “I might as well call Skinner and let him know the score.” He stood and stretched. “Can I get you guys anything? How about you, Dex?”

Jamie and Dillon declined, as did Carson. “No, I’m fine, thank you.”

Brandon grabbed the cordless phone from one of the kitchen’s shining granite counters. “In that case, I’ll be in the living room, making a call.” Brandon walked out, leaving the three of them alone in awkward silence.”

The silence may have been awkward for Dillon--and Jamie too, if the way he was wiggling around in his chair was any indication--but Carson seemed oblivious to it. His silver eyes roamed the confines of the kitchen, taking in the homey atmosphere. Dillon didn’t even realize he was staring at the man until Carson said, “You can ask me about it, if you want to.”

“About what?” Even as he said it, Dillon knew what Carson was talking about.

“The reason Bruce called me and asked me to come with him while he and Alicia talked to you. I can tell you’re curious.”

“I just figured it was because you’re a psychiatrist. Maybe Bran and his sister think Jamie and I need a shrink.”

Carson laughed, the sound rich and warm in the quiet kitchen. “I’ll admit, it sounds like the two of you have been through the ringer, but I wasn’t asked here so I could analyze you.” He sobered. “I’m here because I know Henderson, know firsthand what he’s capable of.”

Jamie’s mouth dropped open. “You were his patient?”

“I was his first patient. Well, the first patient he ever tried to convert, anyway.” Carson lowered his eyes, but not before Dillon saw the aching sadness inside. “I’m also his son.”

“Jesus.”

Carson raised his eyes at Dillon’s well-placed curse. “Quite a kicker, isn’t it?” He leaned forward and crossed his arms, elbows bent and propped on the table. “My father used to be a well respected psychologist. Some of his philosophies were outdated, to be sure, but he was highly thought of by most of his colleagues. All that changed when he found out I was gay. He and my mother freaked.”

Like Dillon didn’t know how that felt. “How old were you?”

“Sixteen. My father caught me with my boyfriend. We were just kissing, but it was enough to set my father off. He forbade me to see the guy again, and then he started on his crusade, as I call it. He became convinced that he could cure me. He started studying up on different techniques, all the ways to steer a person’s mind away from the evils of homosexuality.” Carson shook his head. “Needless to say, it didn’t work. My father put me through a full year of electric shocks and ‘dirty’ pictures before he realized it wasn’t working.” Carson’s jaw was set in stone. “That’s when my dad up-ed the stakes.”




The Way You Say My Name Ch. 19



Jamie whispered, “God.”

“God is exactly who my father thinks he is. He just couldn’t accept the fact that I was gay and there was nothing he could do about it. Because he’s not an M.D., he has no real pull with any of the local psychiatric hospitals. He threatened me with commitment, anyway, though, just like he did with you, Dillon. My guess is, in both our cases, he thought he could scare us into compliance. And he was right, at least where I was concerned. Whereas you fought back and didn’t listen, my father’s scare tactics worked on me. I would have done anything my father asked to keep myself from being locked up in some nameless mental ward somewhere. I thought that was the worst thing that could ever happen to me.” Carson shook his head in amazement. “Isn’t it incredible how wrong a person can be? Anyway, once my father had my cooperation, he went about the task of converting me with a vengeance. He started experimenting with different drugs, begging his colleagues to write prescriptions for him in a bid to find the one medication that would kill all those urges I was having. Never mind that he almost killed me in the process. He tried high doses of sedatives and antidepressants. They killed my sex drive, but the minute my dad pulled me off the meds and the drugs cleared my system, the natural desires and feelings came back. That’s when he got the bright idea to combine aversion therapy with the medications. He’d read somewhere about doctors who were using vomit inducing medicines along with electric shocks.” Dillon could see the strain on Carson’s face--the way he fought off the memories--but none of that stopped him from continuing. “I won’t dredge up the gory details, but you can imagine how terrifying it was for a teenage kid to go through that. And the shock treatments and drugs were some of the nicer things my father did to me. The rest of it, well . . . the rest is best left unsaid.” Carson leaned back with a sigh. “It took me the better part of three years, but I finally got away from him. I changed my last name and moved as far away from Chicago as I could get.”

Dillon didn’t blame him. “Why’d you come back? To stop your father from doing the same thing to someone else? Is that why you became a doctor yourself?”

“Something like that.” Carson might have said more, but Brandon came back in, ending the private conversation between the three of them.

Bran was smiling, a good sign. Dillon could tell how tense Jamie was, just from the way he sat in his chair. Brandon’s next words went a long way towards easing the strain for both of them.

“I just got off the phone with Skinner. Doug is making noise about pressing charges against you, Jamie. Skinner told him the case is on hold until further notice.”

“What now?”

“You and Dillon are going to spend the night here, with Nate and me. You’re not to go anywhere until Alicia gets this thing squared with the D.A., hopefully by tomorrow. Until then, you’ll get a break from work, school, everything.” When Dillon tried to protest, Brandon said, “Before you get all up in the air, kid, I’ll talk to your boss and let him know what’s going on. Think of it as a mini-vacation.”

Unless Brandon was sending him and Jamie to a tropical island where homophobic parents were shot on site, Dillon didn’t think a vacation--mini or not--was going to help.

#

The next hour and a half--between the time Alicia and crew left and Nate came back--was organized chaos. Brandon had Dillon and Jamie write out and then sign statements about what had happened, statements which he faxed to Alicia’s boss and Ronald Skinner. Jamie almost breathed a sigh of relief when the hum of the fax machine broke the quiet of the house. He was looking forward to a few quiet minutes with Dillon.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than the phone started ringing. Heath, Ash, Megan, and Jim Pembroke all called in, having learned their whereabouts from Aunt Sadie. All had heard about Morgan’s attack. Megan also knew about the visit from Dillon’s parents, but the others--especially Heath--were stunned by the revelation. It took Dillon and Jamie both to explain everything that had happened, and by the time they were finished trading the phone back and forth and giving explanations, both were visibly exhausted.

Nate came in them, carrying a small suitcase, and a bag of take-out from the new Tai place down the road. “I thought you would be hungry by now, so I stopped and got us all some supper. Hope you don’t mind spicy food. Oh, and I went by your place and grabbed you some clothes.” He looked down at their still-bare feet and grinned. “Shoes included. I hope that’s okay. Your aunt let me in.” He laughed. “That’s why it took me so long. She grilled me for over half-an-hour, just making sure the two of you were really okay.”

The grilling he wouldn’t wish on any man, but for the clothes and food, Jamie could have hugged him. “Thanks, Nate. Hey, how much do we owe you for the food?”

Brandon snorted. “You’ve been hanging around your partner too long, kid. Dinner’s on us.”

Dillon protested, but just one look at his bloodshot eyes and sagging shoulders told Jamie he was too tired to put up much of a fight.

Spicy wasn’t the word for the chicken and coconut soup, fried fish with tamarind sauce, and steak salad Nate placed on the table. At least the tapioca and coconut milk pudding they had for desert didn’t burn Jamie’s mouth off. Spicy or not, though, the food was good, and Jamie soon found his belly full and his head nodding. Dillon must have been in much the same condition because Nate took one look at the two of them and said, “I think we’ve done enough talking for one night. Let me show you guys to the guest room.”

Dillon and Jamie followed him without protest, eliciting a chuckle from Brandon as he told them goodnight and watched them stumble up the stairs after Nate.

The guestroom was warm and inviting, decorated in cheerful colors with an old-fashioned style that made Jamie feel instantly at home. The thing that he most looked forward to, though, was trying out the king-sized bed dominating the center of the room. Dillon was way ahead of him. He flopped down on the bed with a mumbled thank-you to Nate and closed his eyes, not even bothering to undress or pull back the covers.

Jamie gave Nate an apologetic smile, but Nate just laughed and waved it away. “The poor kid’s been through hell and back. The least he deserves is a good night’s sleep.” Nate squeezed Jamie’s shoulder. “You haven’t had an easy time of it yourself. How are you handling all this?”

Jamie shrugged. “I’m okay. Talking to Dr. Carson helped.”

Nate nodded. “Brandon told me Dex came with Alicia and the special investigator. He’s a good man. He helped me through a really rough patch in my life.”

“The death of your friend?”

“That and a total betrayal by my parents.” Nate scrubbed his hand over his face. “Let’s just say that Dex and Dillon aren’t the only ones who struck out in the parent department.”

“I know. Every time I think about what Dillon’s parents tried to do to him tonight, I start to wonder if having parents is really all it’s cracked up to me.” Jamie yawned. “I’m lucky as hell to have my aunt, though.”

“Yes, you are. And not all parents are like mine and Dillon’s. Just look at Dean and Gale? I can’t imagine any parents more loving than they are.” Nate smiled. “But right now, you need sleep more than you need grateful reflection. If you guys need anything during the night, don’t hesitate to holler. Bran and I are just down the hall.”

“I think we’ll be okay, but I’ll remember, just in case. Thanks, Nate. For everything. And tell Brandon we said thanks, too.”

“Anytime, Jamie. Goodnight.”

“Night.” Jamie closed the door behind Nate and headed for the bed. He managed to strip Dillon down to his boxers and wrestle him under the covers before stripping down himself and climbing in on the other side. He closed his eyes and was almost asleep when he felt Dillon roll over and pull him close. Into Jamie’s ear, Dillon said, “You saved me.”

Jamie played it off, the memory of what happened that afternoon too fresh to reexamine yet again. “It was nothing you wouldn’t have done for me. You’ve made a career out of protecting me, in fact.”

Dillon increased his hold, drawing Jamie so tightly against him, Jamie could feel every fiber of Dillon’s being. “Explain it away all you want, but I was terrified tonight, and you were there for me. You saved my sanity, possibly my life. Do you know how that makes me feel?”

Jamie though he knew, but he asked anyway. “How?”

Dillon’s voice was little more than a husky whisper. “Like the luckiest man alive. I can’t live without you, Jamie. I never want to try.”

Jamie could do no more than nod, but he sensed it was okay. Words were unnecessary as he and Dillon rocked each other back and forth in a gentle rhythm to a quiet sleep.

#

Dillon had no doubt that a long, excruciating wait was in front of them as he got out of bed the next morning and started his day. Jamie was already up and going, but Dillon felt lethargic, too tired to move. Worry about what was going to happen to Jamie kept him pinned in place, despite the reassurances he’d received from Alicia the night before. When he finally forced himself out of bed, it was pushing noon. He showered and shaved in mechanical fashion, donning the clothes Nate had brought for them in the same robotic way. He came down the stairs and entered the kitchen to find a smiling Alicia sitting at the table talking to Jamie and Brandon. Dillon’s heart starting thudding against the walls of his chest, whether from hope or dread, he wasn’t sure.


Alicia sent him a thousand watt smile as he took the place next to Jamie. “There you are. I was beginning to think we were gonna have to go up there and drag your lazy butt out of the bed.”

Dillon blushed. “Sorry about that. I don’t usually sleep so late, I swear.”

“I’m just teasing you, honey. It’s not like you don’t have a good reason for sleeping in.” She picked up a sheaf of papers and waved them in front of herself. “I think these babies are gonna go a long way towards making you feel better.”

“What are they?”

Jamie leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I can answer the first part of that question. At the top of the stack is a notarized statement from your dad dropping the charges he filed against me.”

Dillon closed his eyes, fearing it was too good to be true. When he opened them again, he turned back to Alicia. “How did you manage that one?”

“Your father made it easy for me by digging his own grave. By hooking up with Henderson, he left himself without a leg to stand on.” She must have seen Dillon’s lack of comprehension, because she said, “Let me explain. You remember I said that Henderson’s dispensing meds without a license was enough to get us a warrant for his office?”

“I remember.”

“Well, as it turns out, Judge Finwell thought it was enough to give us leeway to search his house, too. He issued both warrants just around midnight. The office search yielded nothing more than a couple of vials of Haldol, hardly enough to make an arrest. That’s where the home search comes into play. It was in Henderson’s basement that we hit the jackpot.”

Dillon was almost afraid to ask, but as it turns out, he didn’t have to. Alicia was all too happy to fill in the details. The woman was almost giddy, but Dillon couldn’t blame her. He was feeling a little lightheaded himself.

Alicia placed the papers back on the table and folded her hands over them. “Apparently fearing that his office would someday be raided, Henderson confined the majority of his work to the basement of his Chicago home.” She shivered. “Bruce Seaford went with the police who executed the search. He said the place is like some kind of mad-scientist torture chamber. They found restraints, shock mechanisms, drugs, whips and paddles--the whole works. They also found detailed records of the abuse some of those poor people suffered at Henderson’s hands. My boss believes we have enough evidence against him to put Henderson away for at least ten years, if not longer.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Alicia, especially if it means that no one else will have to go through the things Dr. Carson went through. But I still don’t see what made my dad drop the charges.”

Brandon spoke for the first time since Dillon had come downstairs. His voice was thick with compassion, and that’s when Dillon knew the answer to his question was going to be hard to hear.

Brandon said, “Dillon, when the cops raided Henderson’s home-office, they found not only records of treatments the good doctor had already administered, they found treatment plans for his future patients as well. One of those treatment plans had your name on it.” Bran sighed. “You don’t want the details of Henderson’s ‘sexual re-orientation plan’, and I don’t want to give them to you, so I’ll just say it wasn’t pretty and leave it at that.”

“Not only were these so-called treatments Henderson proposed for you horrifying, Dillon, but almost every one of them was illegal.” Alicia pulled a piece of paper free from the others and held it up. “This is a copy of the release form Henderson had your parents sign so he could begin your treatments. It shows without a doubt that Douglas and Angela both knew and approved of all the things Henderson wanted to do to you.”

Jamie scooted his chair closer to Dillon and brushed his leg against Dillon’s thigh. Though Dillon appreciated the gesture of comfort, it wasn’t necessary. He’d long ago reconciled the fact that his parents held no real love for him. Not the unconditional kind, anyway. And after having received exactly that from so many people he wasn’t even related to, unconditional love was the only kind Dillon was interested in.

Alicia put the form back with the others. “The minute Bruce found that paper, he knew we had Douglas dead to rights. Bruce called me, and I called my boss. Together we put together a little deal for your dear old pops, Dillon.”

Brandon’s smile was pure mischief. “That’s not the best part of the story, though. Since Douglas and Angela are residents of Reed, I, as sheriff, was allowed to deliver the paperwork to them, and to present the deal.”

Brandon’s excitement was contagious. Dillon felt the corners of his mouth begin to lift. “What kind of deal?”

Alicia went back through the stack of papers, pulling out two official looking carbon copies and sliding them across the table to Dillon. “Since Douglas signed off on a therapy that he, as a lawyer, knew to be illegal and a violation of your civil rights, the D.A. could have moved to have him not only disbarred and banned from practicing law in the state of Illinois, he could have also had Doug locked up as Henderson’s accomplice. Our office agreed not to seek any action against Douglas as long as he dropped all charges against Jamie.” She pointed to the documents she’d given to Dillon, papers he had yet to look at. “He and your mother are also banned from having any further contact with either you or Jamie for the next two years. I filed a restraining order in your name against each of them, an order which you can renew when the two years are up, if you’d like. All you have to do is sign off on it. Then, if they do approach either of you, no matter what the reason, we can lock them up for violation of the order.”

Dillon was stunned. “You mean it’s over? There’s nothing more they can do to me.” He looked over at Jamie, who was grinning from ear to ear. “To either of us?”

“Nope. I swear, kid, you should have seen the look on old Dougie’s face when I slapped him with that order.” Brandon was on an adrenaline high Dillon felt sure would last him all day. “The bastard had no choice but to go along with it, and he knew it. I don’t think you have to worry about him, anymore, Dillon.”

Dillon started to speak, but Jamie beat him to it. “That’s not the best part, though. Brandon just got through telling us that Morgan’s awake. They got all the pellets out of him, and he’s ready to talk.”

Brandon said, “We’ll have to check out his story to see if it rings true before I can give out all the details, but the long and short of it is this, Dillon: Morgan made a full confession in the death of Burke Carpenter. He also admitted to the attempted murder of you, Jamie, and Mitch. Thanks to you guys--and Miss Sadie’s shotgun--we’re gonna nail him to the wall.”  

{TO BE CONTINUED}



The Way You Say My Name Ch. 20



Nailing Morgan to the wall took about two weeks. Two weeks in which Dillon lived each day like it was his last, enjoying the new found freedom of not having a murderer on the loose. No amateur investigations by his boyfriend. No homophobic parents on a self-righteous rampage. Nothing except school, work, and wild nights spent in his own home with the man of his dreams. It was enough to make a guy feel downright peaceful.

Not even the throng of reporters who hounded them in the days directly following the double arrests of Morgan and Henderson could shake Dillon’s sense of well-being. He took it all in stride, from the curious questions of the kids at school to the follow up questions by the Chicago District Attorney’s Office. 

To that end, Dillon and Jamie were blessed with plenty of help when it came to handling their recent celebrity. Aunt Sadie posted no-trespassing signs around the perimeters of her property and met anyone who wouldn’t take no for an answer at the door with her now famous twelve gauge. Mr. Ardsley, the vice-principal who’d taken over as Dan Morgan’s replacement, fended off the news crews who came to the school hoping to catch a picture of Reed’s newest heroes. Dillon laughed the first time he heard himself refereed to as a hero. As far as he was concerned, Jamie was the only hero involved. Dillon was just along for the ride. Not that anyone would listen. He was even hounded at work by one tenacious writer hoping to do a spread on the boys for a true crime magazine. Jim Pembroke came to the rescue on that one, ousting the guy from the store in much the same way as a bouncer got rid of an unruly bar patron. With all the protection offered by friends and loved ones, as well as the knowledge that he and Jamie were finally through the roughest part of the entire ordeal, Dillon was starting to feel half-way normal, again. Whatever normal was, anyway.

The only smudge in Dillon’s happiness--besides the anxiety of waiting for the end of the Morgan investigation, that is--was the change in Megan. Since the rift between her and Heath, Megan had been silent and withdrawn. Though he saw her every day, it seemed to Dillon like the two of them hadn’t talked--really talked--since the night of Morgan’s attack. He’d last seen Megan at school that afternoon, her face pale and gaunt. When he’d asked her what was wrong, she shrugged it off as nothing more than cramming for exams and dealing with the prom committee. Dillon wasn’t buying it, but he couldn’t force her to talk about it, either. He’d even tried talking to Heath about Megan, only to be told to mind his own damn business.

Dillon was stocking shelves and thinking about his brother at seven o’clock when Jim Pembroke called him up to the front. “Sheriff Nash is on line one for you, Dillon. You can take it in my office where you’ll have some privacy.”

Dillon nodded his thanks and headed towards the office, Perching on the edge of Jim’s desk, he grabbed the phone and punched the first line. “Hello?”

“Hey, kid. Don’t mean to bother you when you’re hardly working, er . . . working hard, but I thought you’d like to know where things stand on the Morgan case. The D.A. here in Reed finished with it last night, and the Chicago D.A. signed off on it this morning, so I’m free to tell you where things stand. I tried to call your house to let Jamie know, too, but I didn’t get an answer.”

“Tonight is his aunt’s poker night. Jamie’s serving snacks to the blue haired set over at her house.”

“Scary thought. Anyway, I’d deliver this news in person, but I’m ass deep in work on this case as it is, so I figured I’d just give you a call and be done with it.”

Dillon seated himself more firmly on the desk. If this was really going to be it--the end of all the hell he and Jamie had been through, Dillon wanted to get the full affect. “Hit me with it.”

“We ran a ballistics check on the gun Morgan used to shoot at you, Jamie, and Mitch. It’s the same gun that killed Burke Carpenter. We also matched a fingerprint found on one of the slugs that missed Carpenter and imbedded in the wood railing of his porch to Morgan. In light of the evidence, Morgan had little choice but to cut a deal. He’s agreed to give a full confession as long as the D.A. takes the death penalty off the table. He also wants the D.A.’s promise not to put him in the general population once he goes to prison. Seems inmates, no matter what they’ve done themselves, take a dim view of child molesters. Since Morgan had sex with some of those boys well before they were legal, he feels like he might be a target. It would serve the bastard right if some three hundred pound tough guy made Morgan his wife.”

Dillon laughed. “Talk about justice. Too bad it can’t happen now, though. At least Morgan’s gonna be looked away. I guess that’ll have to do.”

“Yep. And it’s not like the world lost a whole lot when Morgan offed Carpenter. The way I see it, he preformed a public service.”

Dillon silently nodded, then forced himself to ask the one question he dreaded, the one he knew Jamie most needed an answer to. “What about Ben’s death? Did Morgan admit to killing him, too?”

Brandon sighed. “’Fraid not, kid. According to Morgan, Carpenter killed Ben. See, Dillon, to understand the way Morgan thinks, you have to know a little bit about him. He was born over in Chicago, the only child of a well-to-do investment banker and his high society wife. The two of them doted on Morgan, gave him whatever he wanted. They sent him to the best schools, made certain he drove only the coolest cars. From what I understand, Morgan’s old man even paid the kid’s way through college. Morgan got a degree in education, but I don’t think he ever planned on using it. No, living off Daddy’s money was the only goal Morgan ever set for himself. All that changed right after Morgan graduated from college.”

“What happened?”

“Seems Morgan wasn’t the only criminal in the family. His father was caught embezzling from some of his clients. The Federal Trade Commission did an investigation, and Morgan’s father was arrested and then sentenced to seven years. The F.T.C. also froze all his assets. Morgan and his mother were left with almost nothing.”

“Ouch.”

“It gets worse. Morgan’s mother was unable to cope with the shame of being married to a common criminal. She shot herself two weeks after the old man went to prison.”

Dillon was almost feeling sorry for Morgan, but Brandon’s next words wiped out all those feelings in an instant. “Morgan wasn’t exactly heartbroken over what happened. His mother had an insurance policy just for burial, one that didn’t include a suicide clause. Morgan cashed it in, but instead of burying his mother with it, he used the money to set himself up in the boy business.”

Dillon shivered. “I thought Burke Carpenter handled that end of the operation.”

“That came later. Apparently, Morgan was running adult hustlers, brining in customers and ‘screening’ them, as he called it. He used the money from his mother’s policy to pay for hotels, drugs, whatever the customers required. Seems he racked up quite a client list. Morgan met Carpenter at a party a few weeks later, a party thrown by one of those same clients. Morgan was looking for younger guys to work with, and Carpenter was looking for better contacts for his own budding boy business. The two of them hooked up, and the rest is history. They would probably still be working together if Morgan hadn’t started having sex with Carpenter’s boys. Carpenter was real strict about no in-house sex, according to Morgan. After Morgan brought that guy in who roughed up Mitch, things continued to go down hill. Morgan was making less and less money, so much so that he took the job as principal at Plunkett just to make ends meet.” Brandon snorted. “That’s what he called it. ‘Making ends meet.’ To most people that means paying all the bills and having enough left over to buy groceries. To Morgan it means having enough money to gas up his Ferrari.”

“And Plunkett is where he met back up with Ben?”

“Yep. He pretended not to know Ben, but Morgan says the two of them got together on the sly every so often and had sex. Sex which Morgan paid for. Anyway, a few months ago, Carpenter told Morgan he was cutting him off completely. Said he had enough contacts so that he didn’t need Morgan anymore. Morgan was bitching to Ben about it, and that’s when Ben came up with the plan to blackmail the guy.” 

“And Ben had already succeeded in blackmailing Ash, so what was one more victim?” Dillon did his best not to gag.

“That’s about the size of it. Morgan knew about Carpenter’s affinity for young girls, and he’s the one who snuck back into the house and planted the cameras. Ben’s the one who approached Carpenter with the pictures and made the demands, but they split the money fifty-fifty. Listening to Morgan talk, you’d think he and Ben actually cared about each other, like they were friends or something.”

“So all that stuff Morgan said at Ben’s funeral was just a cover?”

“Yep. Morgan found out about Ben’s death from one of my deputies, a guy by the name of Phelps.” Brandon made a rude noise. “You better believe his ass is beyond fired. Phelps will be lucky if I don’t charge him with everything from obstruction of justice to aiding and abetting. Anyway, Morgan hired the guy to make certain he was never the subject of any active investigations, just as he paid a couple of cops in Chicago to do the same thing. Guess he wanted someone to give him advance warning just in case he was ever busted for his dirty dealings. Amazing how paranoid some of these sleazebags can get. Needless to say, the minute Morgan heard Ben had been killed, he had no doubt that Carpenter had finished Ben off to stop the blackmail. Morgan also guessed that Carpenter knew of his own involvement. Morgan claims that he and Ben met out on Tully Road that night so they could divvy up Carpenter’s latest payoff. Morgan swears Ben was alive when he left. Thing about that is, there was no money found anywhere on or around Ben’s body. To Morgan’s way of thinking, Carpenter must have followed them to the meeting place, waited until Morgan left, and then came out of hiding and killed Ben, taking Ben’s half of the money in the process. That’s when Morgan ran scared, believing he would be next on Carpenter’s hit list. He tried to publicly distance himself from Ben by giving that speech at the memorial, but that wasn’t enough to convince himself he was safe. Finally, the guy snapped under the pressure. Morgan’s plan was to off Carpenter before Carpenter did him in. The plan would have worked, too, if Mitch hadn’t come to Reed and exposed Morgan as Carpenter’s partner. Morgan saw Mitch while Mitch was in town trying to locate you and Jamie. He thought if he killed the three of you, his secrets would die with you.”

Once again, Dillon’s blood chilled, thinking about how close he and Jamie had come to dying by Morgan’s hand. Instead of voicing his dark thoughts, though, Dillon shrugged them aside and said, “So, do you believe him? About Carpenter killing Ben, I mean?”

Brandon paused long enough to think about it. “I’m not sure, to tell you the truth. I think it’s possible, but I also think it’s just as likely that Barry Sledge really did kill Ben that night, and that Morgan’s paranoia just got the better of him. We do know that Sledge hit Ben with his car, but the question is, did he hit him before or after Ben was already dead? It’s also possible that Morgan killed Ben before he pulled away that night and took Ben’s share of the money with him. We’ll probably never know for sure, but the D.A. feels like it’s enough to give reasonable doubt on the Sledge case. The assistant D.A. who took Sledge’s plea the first time is taking back the deal they made for vehicular homicide and changing the charges to reckless endangerment and gross negligence while operating a motor vehicle. The sentence will be altered, as well. Instead of prison, Sledge is going into a resident rehab program. It works almost the same way as jail, though. He can’t come out until a judge says he can. With Sledge’s record, I have a feeling he’ll be in treatment for a long time.”

Dillon wasn’t sure why, but he felt better knowing Sledge wasn’t being charged with murder. Sledge was a drunk, but Dillon was starting to believe that the guy wasn’t the one responsible for Ben’s death. At least Sledge was getting some help out of the deal. All that remained now was to see what would happen to Morgan. He asked Brandon as much.

“He’ll be sentenced in a few weeks, but I think it’s safe to say he’ll spend the rest of his life behind bars. That ought to be enough to satisfy even Jamie.”

Dillon laughed. “I think it will. I can’t wait to tell him. Now maybe we can put this behind us. Thanks for calling me, Brandon.”

“Anytime, kid. Before you go, though, I have something else I need to tell you.” Brandon hesitated, and Dillon could tell something was wrong. “What is it?”

Brandon cleared his throat. “I’m gonna be an uncle.”

“Yeah, I know. I was there when Alicia told you about the baby, remember?”

“I phrased that wrong. What I should have said is, you and I are gonna be uncles.”

It took Dillon a full minute to understand what Brandon was saying. Oh, God. “Megan’s pregnant?”

“Guessed it in one. I just found out about it last night. The poor kid’s been worrying herself sick, scared to death to tell anybody. Thank God she finally broke down and told Ashton Barnes. He convinced her to go to Mom and Dad with it. She actually thought they’d be mad at her. She should have known that we all love her no matter what.”

“Megan told Ash? Why wouldn’t she come to me and Jamie with it? We’ve been trying to talk to her for two weeks.”

“I know you have. Megan told me about how you’ve tried to help her when I talked to her this morning. But before you get your feelings hurt, think about it. It’s your brother who got her pregnant. She was afraid to drag you into this anymore than she already has, afraid it would cause problems between you and Heath.”

Dillon kicked himself for not thinking of that. That was so like Megan, always trying to protect him, the world, everybody but herself. And speaking of Heath . . . “What does my brother have to say about all this?”

Brandon’s voice crackled with anger. “Heath denies she’s even pregnant. Swears up and down that there’s no way she could be, and that if she is, the baby can’t possibly be his. He claims that Megan is only doing this because Heath broke up with her and she wants him back. Total dumbass.” Brandon swore. “Sorry, kid. I know he’s your brother, but the guy is being a complete dick.”

Dick didn’t even cover it. Dillon couldn’t ever remember a time when he’d been so angry with his brother. “I hope you went over to his apartment and kicked some sense into him.”

“I wanted to, believe me, but Megan wouldn’t let me. She freaked out on me, swore never to talk to me again if I said anything at all to Heath. That’s when my mother stepped in. She said that it was up to Heath and Megan to work things out, and for once I was gonna keep my big nose out of it, or else.”

“Damn. That’s harsh.”

“You’re telling me. Now all we can do is wait and see what happens. At least Megan has our family’s full support. Mom and Dad are already looking into colleges that provide student daycare and mother/baby housing.”

“How does Megan feel about the baby?”

Brandon’s voice softened. “She’s in love with it already. You know Megan. She has enough love to give to ten kids. She’s gonna make one hell of a mom, even if she is too damn young.”

There was no doubt in Dillon’s mind that was true, but the situation as a whole was still one hell of a mess. “Brandon, let me try talking to Heath. He might listen to me, or at least pretend to.”

“Good luck, kid. If Heath is half as stubborn as my sister you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

  #

Brandon wasn’t kidding. After calling Jamie to let him know where he’d be, Dillon headed straight to Heath’s apartment. He found his brother sitting on the couch, well into a bottle of Wild Turkey. Damn. Heath rarely drank beer, much less bourbon. Apparently, he wasn’t as unaffected by this as he wanted them to believe.  

Dillon took the half-empty bottle away from his brother and carried it into the kitchen. Heath said, “Hey, bring that back,” but he was in no real condition to stop Dillon from pouring it down the drain. That done, Dillon came back in and sank down next to his brother on the couch. The fumes from Heath’s binge nearly knocked him down, but Dillon refused to move. His brother needed him, and Dillon was going to sit by Heath’s side until the two of them talked it out.

Dillon jumped straight in. “I talked to Brandon Nash tonight. He told me about Megan.”

Heath closed his eyes. “So she decided to take her lies to the Nash collective, did she? Well, good for her. I guess the sheriff is going to come and kick my ass now, huh?”

Dillon fought down a fresh surge of anger. Getting mad and ramming his fist down Heath’s throat like he wanted to wasn’t going to help. “No, he’s not.” When Heath opened his eyes in obvious disbelief, Dillon said, “Oh, Brandon wanted to jack your ass up, believe me. But Megan made him promise not to.”

Heath sneered. “Awww, how freaking nice of her, to protect me from her big, bad-ass brother.” He snorted. “She lies on me, tries to force me to marry her, and then acts all sweet and innocent in front of her family. What a bitch.”

So much for not loosing his temper. Dillon reached over and shoved his brother so hard Heath feel off the couch and hit the floor. “What in the hell did you do that for?”

Dillon towered over him. “Don’t you ever--and I mean ever--call Megan a bitch in my presence again. What’s the matter with you, Heath? You get her pregnant, then drop her like she’s trash, and you’re the one calling her names? God, what’s happened to you?”

Heath didn’t even bother to get up. “She’s not pregnant, Dillon. She can’t be. At least not by me. I used a rubber every damn time we were together.”

“Those things aren’t one-hundred percent protection, and you know it. Anything could have happened. There could have been a hole, it could have broken--”

“Damn it, there is no baby!” Heath came up into a sitting position on the floor. “Megan told me she loved me--another freakin’ lie--and I told her I wanted to cool things down. Now, two weeks later, she’s telling the whole damn world that I knocked her up? That’s mighty convenient, isn’t it? She’s just doing this to force me to come back to her. She’ll do anything to get her way, just like--”

No way was Dillon gonna let Heath end it there. “Just like who? Dammit, Heath, either you tell me what’s going on, or I swear I’ll kick your ass myself. You won’t have to worry about Brandon, not if I get to you first.”

Heath didn’t seem overly concerned about the threat, but he leaned his back against the base of the couch and started talking, anyway. “Did Mom and Dad ever tell you the reason I moved out of their house?”

The change in subject startled Dillon, but he decided just to go with it. “No, not really. I always just assumed that you left because you were eighteen and didn’t want to play by there lame-ass rules.”

“That was part of it, but there was more to it than that.” Heath ran his fingers over his face, scrapping his palm against the thick stubble on his chin. “Do you remember that girl I was dating at the time, Marcy Collier?”

“Vaguely, why?”

“Vague describes my whole relationship with her. We were fuck buddies, and that’s all we were. The two of us got together whenever we wanted to scratch a certain itch, but there were no ties between us. I thought she felt the same way, that she was cool with the whole casual thing, but evidently, I was wrong. One day she told me that she wanted us to be more than just an every now and then kinda thing. Then she told me she loved me.” Heath laughed, a bitter, joyless sound. “Like she knew anything about love. She was screwing at least three other guys besides me. When I told her I knew as much, she swore she’d give them all up, that she wanted to make a commitment to me and me alone. I told her I wasn’t interested, and that was the end of it. At least I thought it was, anyway.”




The Way You Say My Name Ch. 20



Oh no. “What happened?”

“Marcy knew enough about Mom and Dad to know how strict they are. She went to them one day about three weeks after I called things off and told them she was pregnant, and that I was the father. That’s when our old man told me I could either marry her and ‘do the right thing,’ as he called it, or I could get out. Needless to say, I got out.” Heath smiled with pure malice. “Put a crimp in ole Marcy’s plans, let me tell you. Without Mom and Dad to back her up, there was nothing she could do, and she knew it. She finally admitted that she’d made the whole thing up.”

But not before the damage was done, Dillon thought. Regardless of what Marcy Collier did, surely Heath knew that Megan wasn’t capable of forcing a guy into marriage. “Heath, think about. You were the first man Megan ever slept with. You know she’s nothing like Marcy. She cares about you. She loves you, Heath.”

“So she says. But who the hell knows what love means, anyway? Mom and Dad say they love us, and look what they’ve done. They threw me to the wolves and almost had you tortured by some crazy-ass shrink.”

“Okay, so they aren’t the best examples, but you know that not everyone is like them. Look at Megan’s folks. Or Brandon and Nate. They all give one-hundred percent to the people they love.”

“Those are exceptions little, brother, not the rule.”

Dillon was losing his patience. “Why do you have to be so damn stubborn? You know that Megan isn’t lying, Heath. Deep inside, you have to.”

Heath’s own temper was rising. “I don’t have to know shit, kid. And who the hell are you to lecture me, anyway? You wanna talk about love? All right, then. Let’s talk about you and Jamie. Let’s talk about how you fucked his ass and then dumped him rather than admit you were gay. That’s real love for you, huh?”

Dillon swallowed. Heath’s words hurt, mostly because they were true. He stood up, looking down at the pitiful site of his drunken brother, slumped against the couch and sitting on the floor. “You’re right about that. Every word of it is true. But I had one thing going for me with Jamie that apparently you don’t.”

Heath looked up at him with glassy eyes. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

“I was smart enough to go back and fix my mistakes. You’re letting the best thing that’s ever happened to you slip through your fingers and you’re too blind--or too stupid--to see it.” And without another word, Dillon left.

  #

Jamie took the news about Morgan well, not even flinching when Dillon told him that they might never know for sure which one of the three of them--Carpenter, Morgan, or Sledge--actually killed Ben. As Jamie put it, “They all got what they deserved in one form or another. I can live with it.” Dillon thought that summed it up rather nicely.

Of course, part of the reason Jamie wasn’t overly focused on the Morgan investigation was his worry for Megan. She talked to them both a little bit on the phone, apologizing for not telling them the truth--but other than that little bit of contact, she kept to herself, even at school. Dillon thought maybe he’d gotten through to Heath, but after five days with no word from his brother, Dillon was starting to lose hope.

Ash came by Saturday morning, looking as worried as Dillon felt. Jamie showed him in and the three of them took a seat at the table.

Ash said, “I’m sorry to bother you guys so early, but I’m scared stiff about Megan. She doesn’t look good at all.”

“I know. Every time I talk to her, she blows me off and tells me she’s fine, but anyone can see she’s lying.” Dillon clenched his fists. “I’d love to beat Heath black and blue right about now.”

Ash nodded. “There’s a long line forming to do that very thing. Any word from him?”

“Nope. I went by there a few days ago and talked to him, but that’s the last contact I’ve had. Since I’ve off work today, I thought I might go over there and try again.”

Jamie said, “I wish you wouldn’t. I don’t think it’s gonna make any difference, and it might just make him dig his heels in deeper.”

“Jamie’s right, Dillon. You can’t force the guy to listen.” Ash stood. “I just wanted to stop by and see how things stood with your brother. I talked Megan into letting me take her to the movies this afternoon, so I’m gonna go on over to her house before she changes her mind.”

Dillon walked him to the door. “Thanks for being such a good friend to her, Ash. I know she has a hard time talking to me because Heath’s my brother.”

Ash smiled. “Megan was there for me when I needed a friend. I’m just returning the favor.” He turned to Jamie. “Brandon told Megan about the situation with Morgan, and she filled me. I hope you got your closure.”

“I did.” Jamie took a deep breath. “It won’t bring Ben back, but knowing that Morgan is gonna pay for his part in it--and for what he tried to do to us--makes it easier to take.”

“Understood. Any word from Ben’s brother?”

“Mitch called us a few days ago, but he didn’t say where he was. The D.A. has him in a safe house until this thing with Morgan is squared away. Hopefully, it wont take long. The sheriff seized the rest of the blackmail money from Ben’s safe deposit box, and since Morgan confessed, it makes all the little details easier to square away.” 

Ash widened his eyes at Jamie’s statement. “A safe house? Why?”

“Just in case one of Burke Carpenter’s clients gets antsy, thinking Mitch might I.D. him. The D.A.’s afraid one of the guys might come after Mitch.”

“For his sake, then, I hope this thing wraps up quick. It was good to see you guys, but I’m outta here.”

Dillon stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “It was good to see you, too, man. Don’t be such a stranger.”

Ash grinned. “You’ll be seeing a lot more of me come the fall.”

“Oh yeah? And why is that?”

Ash laughed. “Because Garman is a small college and we’re bound to be taking some of the same freshman classes.”

Jamie came to the door and high-fived him. “Dude, you got into Garman? That’s so cool.”

“Yep. I’m heading up same time as you, I imagine.”

Dillon slapped him on the back. “I’m glad to hear it, Ash. You’re on your way back to the land of the living, man.”

“Yeah, now if we can just get Megan back on track, we’ll have it made.” Ash gave them both another goodbye and left.

Jamie put his arms around Dillon’s waist. “Is it just me, or are we half-way there on the road to a normal life?”

Dillon bent his head, taking Jamie’s mouth with his own. He might not be sure what normal was, but he was dying to find out.

  #

Dillon never should have bragged about having the day off to Ash. He thought sure he’d be spending the day lounging around the apartment with Jamie. Of course, Dillon hadn’t counted on Sadie the Slave-driver. She’d knocked on the door at eleven-thirty with a list of things that needed doing around the house. Dillon grumbled to himself as he repositioned the ladder so he could clean the gutters. At least he hadn’t gotten stuck cleaning out the attic like Jamie had. There really was a bright side to everything.

By the time Dillon finished with the first half of his task, he noticed how warm it was. The first week of May had banished coats and sweatshirts from Dillon’s wardrobe, but now, even the cotton t-shirt he wore was too warm. Dillon shucked it over his head and tossed it onto the ground.

“If you take off your pants, I’m leaving.”

Dillon whirled so fast he almost fell off the ladder. His brother was standing at the base, not smiling, but not exactly frowning, either. Dillon decided to take that as a good sign.

He climbed down the ladder, stopping just in front of his brother. “Hey, Heath. How’s it going?”

Heath looked down and shuffled his feet. “I came to tell you that I’m sorry. For what I said the other day about you and Jamie, I mean.”

“I’m cool with that.” Dillon waited a second, then said, “What about Megan, Heath? She’s the one who’s suffering, not me.”

Heath started wringing his hands in frustration. “What do you want me to say, Dillon? Like I told you before, she’s lying. I guess the only way to prove it is to wait a few months. When there’s no baby, you’ll know I was telling the truth.”

Dillon wanted to scream. When he saw Heath standing at the bottom of the ladder, he’d hoped against hope that his brother had come to tell him he was going to at least talk to Megan. Instead, Heath had given him more of the same excuses. Before Dillon could say anything else though, his cell phone rang.

Dillon said, “Hang on a sec,” to Heath and “Hello” into the phone. All the color drained out of his face as he listened to the caller. Dillon said, “I’ll be right there,” then hung up the phone. To Heath he said, “We’ll have to argue about this later. I have to go.”

Heath grabbed his arm. “Wait a minute. What’s going on?”

“Let me go, Heath. I don’t have time to talk.”

Heath wasn’t budging. You’re not going anywhere until you tell me who that was on the phone and why you have to leave. Hell, Dillon, you were the one who was so damn set on talking about Megan.”

“This is about Megan, asshole. That was Ash on the phone. He and Megan had a movie date this afternoon.”

Heath made a nasty face, but didn’t relinquish his hold. “So much for being brokenhearted about splitting up with me, huh? How long did it take before Megan moved on to Ash?”

“Heath, I don’t have time to talk about this right now. Let me go.”

“Not until you answer my question.” Heath’s voice got deadly quiet. “Is she banging him?”

Dillon couldn’t believe his ears. “No. What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? You come down on me like a ton of bricks, and take up for Megan. Megan, the girl who claims to be pregnant with my baby and who’s out with another guy even as we speak. Why can’t you see what a liar she is?”

That did it. Dillon wrenched free of his brother’s grasp. “Oh yeah, Heath, she’s one hell of a liar all right. She’s so good, she’s got half the staff at Chicago General completely snowed.”

Heath went pale. “What are you talking about?”

“That was Ash on the phone, calling from the hospital. Your un-pregnant ex-girlfriend just had a miscarriage, and now she’s hemorrhaging. The doctors aren’t sure if they can stop it.”

{To Be Continued}



The Way You Say My Name Ch. 21



Heath insisted on riding to the hospital with Dillon and Jamie. He sat in the back of Dillon’s Lumina, not once during the ride breaking his silence. For that, Dillon was glad. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

The drive to Chicago General seemed to take forever. Dillon barely remembered parking the car or making the trip from the parking garage to the emergency room. What he would never forget, though, was the look on Ash’s face as he rushed to meet them. Ash started to say something to Dillon, but the minute he caught site of Heath, all hell broke loose.

“What the fuck did you bring him for? He’s the reason Megan is in this condition in the first place.” And before Dillon could stop him, Ash made a dive at Heath, slugging him hard in the jaw.

Heath didn’t even try to defend himself. Ash pulled back, ready to deliver another blow when Gale Nash stepped out of the waiting area and said, “Ashton, stop, honey. None of this is going to help Megan.”

Ash stepped back, but not before saying, “Go home, you bastard. You’ve done enough.”

Heath didn’t bother to answer Ash. He spoke only to Gale. “How is she?”

Ash blurted out, “Like you have a right to ask,” but Gale didn’t say anything. Not at first, anyway. She stood for a full minute, just looking Heath over. Finally, she said, “Do you really care how she is?”

Heath didn’t hesitate. “Yes, I do.”

Gale nodded. “I think maybe you do. Come into the waiting area, and I’ll tell you what I know.”

As they stepped into the waiting room proper, Dillon nodded to Brandon, Nate, and Megan’s dad, all of whom were glaring at Heath. For his part, Heath didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were glued to Gale. She took the chair closest to her husband, but Heath remained standing, waiting for her response.

Gale didn’t make him wait long. “According to the doctor, Megan suffered an ectopic pregnancy, meaning the fetus implanted in her fallopian tube, not her uterus. In a case like that, there’s nothing they can do to save the pregnancy, but if they get to it in time, a good surgical team can remove the embryo without serious damage to the mother.” Dillon watched as Gale’s eyes filled with tears. “In Megan’s case, the ectopic pregnancy ruptured her fallopian tube before anyone caught it.”

Heath wasn’t far from losing it, Dillon could tell. “What does that mean?”

Gale drew a deep, shuddering breath. “It means, Heath, that Megan could bleed to death if they can’t repair the damage.”

Nate came up beside Gale’s chair and slipped his arm across her shoulders. “That’s not going to happen, Gale. Like I told you before, Dr. Byrd is working on her. He’s the best reproductive surgeon Chicago General’s got. If you don’t believe me, you can ask Keith when he and Marie get here. I called him just as soon as I found out Dr. Byrd would be operating on Meggie. Keith agreed that Byrd’s the absolute best.”

Heath swallowed, the harsh sound echoing through the silent waiting area. “So that means there’s a good chance that Megan will be okay, right, in spite of the miscarriage?”

Gale only nodded, but Brandon stood up and came forward, despite Nate’s desperate attempts to hold him back. “It also means, you stupid prick, that my sister was telling you the truth when she said she was pregnant. All the hell you put her through just because you aren’t man enough to live up to your responsibilities was for nothing.”

The doctor came out then, a dark haired man of about fifty clad in blood spattered scrubs. Megan’s blood. If possible, Heath looked even more stricken than before. The others stood as the doctor started his report, effectively cutting Brandon’s tirade short.

“Megan’s lost more blood than I would like, but we were able to stabilize her and clamp off the bleeder without having to give her additional blood. I repaired the ruptured tube as best I could, and she may need another surgery to remove any excess scar tissue at some point in the future, but, barring infection, I believe she’ll make a full recovery.”

Gale clapped her hand to her mouth as tears of gratitude ran down her face. Dean closed his eyes, and Dillon swore he heard Ash say a prayer of thanks. Nate shook the doctor’s hand and thanked him while Brandon pulled his mom into his arms and held her close. Jamie stood by Dillon’s side, and it wasn’t until he whispered, “Look at your brother,” that Dillon turned to see how Heath was taking it.

Heath walked over to the doctor and said, “When can I see her?”

Dr. Byrd pursed his lips. “Are you a relative?”

Brandon said, “Hell no,” but Heath ignored him. “I am . . . was, the father of her baby.”

Dillon wondered how much that admission had cost his brother, especially when Brandon and Ash both protested. Dean, also, looked as if he wanted to object, but it was Gale who settled the argument.

“Dr. Byrd, this is Heath Carver. He and Megan have a lot to talk about as soon as you say she’s able.” Gale looked back at the rest of them, all but daring them to speak.

The doctor checked his watch. “She’s in recovery. As soon as the anesthesia wears off, she’ll be sent to a private room. Once she’s awake and has been examined to make certain there are no post-surgical complications, she can have visitors. But,” at that he hesitated, but only for a second. “I’m not sure about the status of your relationship with Megan, Mr. Carver, but you need to understand that she’s been through an ordeal. From what the nurses who prepped her for surgery tell me, Megan was hysterical, begging them to save her baby. When she comes to, she going to be dazed, disoriented. My advice to you is to come back tomorrow, and even then, you should use caution when you talk to her. Megan will have a lot to deal with, and it’s not uncommon for a woman in her situation to suffer from severe depression.”

Heath buried his face in his hands. Dillon thought sure he was going to break, but somehow, his brother managed to hold it all together. When Heath raised his head, his face was a blank mask, all his emotions locked inside. He turned to Gale. “If I come back tomorrow, will you let me see her?”

“If that’s what Megan wants, I won’t try to stop you, and neither will they.” Gale motioned towards Dean, Brandon and the rest. “But everything Dr. Byrd said is true, Heath. Megan is fragile right now. I won’t have you making things any worse for her than they already are.”

Heath’s mask cracked a little then, some of his pain seeping through before he caught it. “I swear to God I won’t, Gale. All I want to do is see her, tell her . . .” His voice faded and he trailed off. A minute later, he said, “I’m just gonna hang around here tonight, and then I can see her first thing in the morning.”

For the first time since Heath came into the room, Dean spoke up. Of all the Nash’s, Dillon always thought of Dean as the quiet one, soft spoken to the core. Circumstances being what they were, that rule no longer applied. Dean stepped forward, his voice low and menacing. “Go home, boy.”

Heath stood his ground. “No, sir. Megan needs me. I--”

“Megan needed you when she first found out she was pregnant. She needed you when she was sick, and scared, and alone. She needed you, and you let her down.” When Heath tried to protest, Dean held up his hand. “What she needs now is to be surrounded by her family. She needs her mother, me, her brothers and her sisters. Megan needs all the people who love her no matter what. Last time I checked you weren’t in that category. Tomorrow, you can come back, and if Megan says she’ll see you, I won’t try to stop it.” Dean leaned in closer to Heath, his tone chilling in its quiet intensity. “I won’t stop you from seeing her, but I swear by everything that’s holy, if you hurt my daughter again, I’ll make you wish you’d never been born. Do we understand each other?”

Heath didn’t even flinch. “Yes, sir. We understand each other perfectly.”

“Good. Come back tomorrow, then. And Heath?”

“Yes, sir?”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “You better start praying. Pray Megan is going to be all right, that she’s suffered no permanent damage from this. Most of all, son, you better pray my daughter is more forgiving than I am.”

Heath shook his head. “Start praying? Sir, I haven’t done anything but pray since Dillon got that phone call from Ash.” And to Dillon’s amazement, Heath left without saying another word.

#

Dillon followed Heath out to the parking garage while Jamie stayed behind and talked to Megan’s family. Dillon finally caught up with his brother outside, just as he was about to hail a cab. “Heath, dammit, wait a second.”

Heath paused but didn’t turn around. “I have to get out of here, Dillon. I’ll . . . I’ll catch you later, okay?”

“No, it’s not okay.” Dillon placed his hands on Heath’s arms, forcing him to turn until they were facing. “We’re family, Heath. Talk to me. Let me help you.”

Heath’s face was a study in misery, all the earlier control having fled. He shook his head with something akin to violence. “You can’t help me, Dillon. I fucked up, and there isn’t a damn thing you, me, or anyone else can do about it.”

Dillon wanted to argue, but Heath didn’t give him a chance. “I have to get out of here. I have to think. I . . . I have to find a way to fix this.”

“Heath, come home with me and Jamie. We’ll talk it out, see what we can come up with.”

But Heath wouldn’t listen. He flagged down the next cab that came by and was gone before Dillon could stop him. 

#

Dillon spent the rest of the night cuddled next to Jamie, thoughts of Megan and Heath zooming around his brain. He slept in fifteen minute increments, worry and dread waking him at all hours. He finally gave up on sleep at about six the next morning, tucking the covers around Jamie’s sleeping form and crawling out of bed.

Aunt Sadie had been more than sympathetic about the reasons why Jamie and Dillon hadn’t finished helping her around the house the day before, but Dillon had a thing about finishing what he’d started. That, and he hoped a little bit of manual labor would keep his mind off his brother and Megan. 

He worked for about four hours solid, cleaning the gutters and clearing the drains. He’d just climbed down and was about to start on the other side of the house when Jamie came out of the apartment, fully dressed and carrying two twenty-ounce bottles of Coke.

Jamie offered one of the bottles to Dillon. “Here. I think you’re gonna need the sugar rush.”

Dillon groaned. “What is it now?”

“Heath just called. He’s at the hospital.”

Dillon braced himself, propping one foot on the lowest rung of the ladder. “Is Megan all right?”

“As far as I know she’s doing about the same as she was yesterday, but Megan’s health isn’t the reason Heath called. Megan has refused to see him unless you’re there to referee.” 

“Me? For God’s sake, why?”

Jamie shrugged. “Heath wasn’t sure, but Megan sent word through a nurse that she’ll only talk to Heath if you’re there. In fact, she wants to see you first.”

Dillon draped his arms over the fourth rung of the ladder and laid his head in his hands. “Why do I always get dragged into this stuff?”

Jamie wrapped his arms around Dillon’s waist from behind. “Some people are just lucky that way, I guess. Need me to come with you?”

Dillon shook his head without even lifting it from his hands. “No. There’s no reason for both of us to go up there. I can suffer through this alone.”

Jamie laughed. “You can keep on with the ‘poor me’ act all you want, but you and I both know you’d do anything to help Heath and Megan.”

Dillon raised his head and turned in the circle of Jamie’s arms, returning the embrace. “I’m glad to do anything I can, but I’m thinking Heath may have been right yesterday when he said there was nothing anyone could do to fix this.”

“I’m not buying it. I mean, look at everything that happened between me and you. We’ve been through hell and back so many times I lost count, but we came out of it together. I have to believe Heath and Megan will make it, too.”

Dillon wanted to believe that Jamie was right, but as he walked towards Megan’s third-floor hospital room an hour later and saw the look on his brother’s face as he paced the hall just outside Megan’s door, Dillon’s hope evaporated.

Heath rushed to meet him. “Thank God you’re here. She won’t even talk to me. Not unless she sees you first. She keeps sending messages through her nurse.”

“I know. Jamie told me.”

Heath ran his hands over his face, his bloodshot eyes a stark contrast to his pale skin. He wore the same clothes he’d worn the day before, and his hands were shaking slightly as he lowered them to his sides. “I need to see her, Dillon. I have to tell her--” Heath broke off, but not before Dillon got a good look at his brother’s desperation.

“What, Heath? What is it you need to tell her?”

“Never mind. Just talk to her for me, Dillon. Tell her I need to see her. Please.”

“I’ll try, but like the doctor said, Megan’s not in the best of places right now. You know this little peace talk I’m about to give comes with no guarantees, right?”

“Understood. Just the fact that you’re willing to help means a lot. Thanks, Dillon.”

Dillon nodded and made his way to Megan’s door. Using the first two knuckles of his right hand, Dillon tapped on the fake wood. “Megan? It’s Dillon. Can I come in?”

At Megan’s hoarse but clear, “Yes,” Dillon swung the door open and stepped inside. Megan was lying in bed, her skin sallow against the sickly green hospital gown she wore. Someone--probably a nurse--had washed her hair and then braided it wet so that it hung in one damp red stream down her back. She looked so young and helpless as she reclined against the pillows that Dillon had to force himself not to run forward and gather her into his arms.

He settled for a cautious hug, carefully squeezing her shoulders while avoiding her tender midsection. He pulled back and plastered on a smile. “How’s my best girl?”

Megan’s eyes crinkled slightly at the corners, but that’s as close as she came to returning the smile. “I’m doing all right. Dr. Byrd says I can probably go home tomorrow.”

“That’s great, Meggie. Before you know it, you’ll be feeling like your old self, again.” Megan only nodded. They both knew it was a lie but went with the pretense, anyway.

Dillon sat down in one of the chairs beside the bed. “So, where is everybody? I expected the room and hallway to be covered in wall to wall Nash’s.”

Megan gave a ghost of a grin. “I sent them all home, one because they were exhausted, and two, because I knew Heath was coming and I didn’t want any bloodshed. Mama and Daddy stayed all night and a good chunk of the morning, and so did Bran and Nate. Keith is here somewhere, working his regular shift. He’s popped in a couple of times, but I finally convinced him that I wanted to catch some sleep. The rest of the family has taken turns coming by, and poor Ash has been here like three times this morning alone.” Megan leaned further back against the pillows and sighed. “I made them all go home about ten o’clock this morning. Convinced them I needed time alone, to think.”

“I bet they put up a fuss.”

“You know it. The only one who really understood was Mama. She lost a baby in between giving birth to Wayne and Keith. She knows how it . . . how it hurts.”

The aching loss in Megan’s voice made the back of Dillon’s eyes sting. He blinked time and again in rapid succession until he had himself under control. Desperate to offer comfort, he said the only thing he could think of. “I’m sorry, Megan. About the baby, I mean. I know how much you wanted it.”

Megan bit her lip and turned her head, facing away from Dillon for a minute. “Dr. Byrd said it was no one’s fault, just one of those freak accidents of nature that sometimes happens for no good reason. I know better, though. I know that my baby died because I wasn’t a strong enough person to hold on to him.”

Dillon couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Megan, how can you say that? You’re one of the strongest, bravest people I know. You can’t possibly believe this is your fault.”

Megan continued to stare at the wall. “I don’t know what I believe. Not anymore. All I know is that a couple of months ago, I was in love with an amazing guy who I thought loved me, too. Now I’ve lost him and the only thing I had of him, the baby we made together.” She turned her tear-soaked face back to Dillon. “I feel like I’ve lost everything.”

Dillon grabbed three tissues from the nightstand, leaning forward and drying Megan’s eyes as best he could. “My brother was an idiot Megan. None of this is your fault.”

“You’re wrong. Heath must have seen something in me, some flaw deep inside. I chased him away, made him leave because he could see something missing in me, something no one else could.”

“Megan, no! Listen, honey. You’ve got it all wrong.”

But Megan wouldn’t listen. “Is Heath still out there? Like I said, that’s one of the reasons I sent my family away, so they wouldn’t kill him. Mom told me Ash even took a swing at him yesterday.”

“Yes, he did.” Under his breath, Dillon muttered, “That’s only half of what he deserved,” but loud enough for Megan to hear he said, “Yes, he’s still out there. But, Megan, I don’t think you need to see him right now. Not until you can stop blaming yourself for his mistakes.”

Megan shook her head. “I want to see him, now, Dillon, to put an end to that part of my life. When I leave Reed, I want to leave knowing that Heath and I at least had some form of closure, whatever that is.”

Alarm bells rang in Dillon’s head. “What do you mean, ‘when you leave Reed.’ You mean for college?” When she nodded, Dillon said, “Meggie, that’s not until September. You’ve got almost four months until then. Give yourself some time. There’s no need to rush this.”

“I’m leaving right after graduation, Dillon. I’ve already been accepted to and registered for the fall semester at Michigan State, Brandon’s alma mater. With any luck I’ll be able to find a nice, off-campus apartment and sign on for a few summer courses as well.”

Dillon wanted to argue with her, but he could tell by the glint in her eyes that arguing at this point would be useless. If he couldn’t change her mind, the least he could do was be supportive. “What can I do to help you through this, Meggie?” He reached for her hand.

Megan laced her fingers with his and held on tight. “Just stay with me while I talk to Heath. I don’t trust myself to be alone with him, and no one else understands him the way you do, especially not my family. They’d just as soon beat the crap out of him now and ask questions later.”

“I’ll be here while you talk to him, but I gotta tell you, I’ve had the urge to beat him senseless a time or two myself.”

“I understand. Just . . .” Megan took a deep breath. “Just ask him to come in here, please.”

Dillon did as he was asked, but in his heart, he knew that there was no way this little meeting was going to bring Megan closure. Megan and Heath owned a part of each other, just as he and Jamie did. And just like him and Jamie, they probably always would.

#

Dillon found his brother exactly where he’d left him, pacing in front of Megan’s door. “Megan wants to see you, but before you go in there, there’s something you should know.”

Heath was almost too eager to see Megan to listen, but Dillon’s somber tone must have gotten through to him. “What is it?”

“Megan blames herself for all of this, Heath. She blames herself for everything from the break-up to loosing the baby.”

Heath flinched. “What? No, that’s not right. How could she possibly think any of this was her fault?”

“I don’t know, but the point is, she does.”

Heath swore. “I’ll make her listen, make her understand that I’m the one responsible.”

Dillon tried to reason with him, but Heath was every bit as stubborn as Megan. He swung open the door and walked into Megan’s room, Dillon on his heels.




The Way You Say My Name Ch. 21



Megan was lying in the same position, the bed covers clutched around her like a shield. “Hello, Heath.”

Heath swallowed so hard, Dillon could hear it. “Hi, honey. How are you feeling?”

“Okay, I guess. The doctor says I’m healing. No sign of infection near my incision, and my vital signs are good, whatever that means.”

“That’s great, Meggie. I . . . Oh, hell. I was never good at polite conversation.” He came forward and stood beside the bed. “Baby, I’m so damn sorry for this. For leaving you like I did, for the miscarriage. All of it.”

Megan held herself with such brittle control, Dillon thought she might shatter. “It wasn’t your fault, Heath, especially not the miscarriage. According to Dr. Byrd, that would have happened no matter what.”

Heath sank down in the chair beside the bed while Dillon stood on Megan’s other side. “Maybe so, but I should have been there to see you through it.”

“Why? You didn’t even believe there was a baby.”

“Honey, you have to let me explain. See, there was this girl a few years back. When things started cooling off between us, she lied about being pregnant to trap me into something I wasn’t ready for.”

“And you thought I’d done the same thing?” Megan closed her eyes. “You must not think very much of me to believe I could do something like that. Is that why you dumped me, because I was so unworthy of your love and trust?”

“No! Dammit, Megan, I’m trying to tell you that you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who fucked up. I care about you, baby. I didn’t even realize how much until I found out you were in the hospital.”

Megan opened her eyes, and Dillon was shocked to see how hollow and empty they were. “Nothing’s changed, Heath.”

Heath tried to take her hand, but Megan pulled away. “You’re wrong. We’ve been given a second chance. We can start over, do this thing right. I’ll treat you the way I should have in the beginning, show you the respect you deserve.” His voice dropped to a low murmur. “And I won’t rush you into bed this time. I’ll be careful with you, angel. No more babies until we’re both ready.”

“There won’t be any babies for me, Heath. Not now, and probably not ever.”

“I know you feel that way right now, but, in time, you’ll change your mind.”

Megan’s small hands knotted into fists as she clutched the rough blanket. “You don’t get it. When Dr. Byrd went in to fix the damage caused by the ectopic pregnancy, he had to remove one of my tubes. That cut my chances of getting pregnant again in half.”

Heath wasn’t giving in. “Fifty-fifty isn’t so bad. When the time comes--”

“Let me finish.” Megan’s face was turning red and her breathing was shallow. “I have scar tissue left behind from the surgery, but they won’t know how bad it is until my wounds heal. It could very well thicken, maybe even block my uterus and my other tube. According to Dr. Byrd, I have less than a thirty percent chance of getting pregnant without more surgery or some type of assisted reproduction technique.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. We have plenty of time.”

“You’re the one who’s not listening. We’re out of time. It’s too late for us.”

Heath didn’t budge. “I refuse to believe that, Megan, and I don’t think you really believe it, either. You’re letting your anger and grief do all the talking.”

Megan’s face contorted with some of that anger Heath had just mentioned. “What would you know about my grief? I’m the one who lost the baby.”

“It was my baby, too, honey. You’re not the only one who’s suffering.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Heath must have seen the fire gathering in Megan’s eyes because he moved back a little as she sat up and unleashed all the pain and self-loathing she’d been carrying inside. “What are you trying to say? That you’re all torn up over the death of a baby you didn’t even think existed? Bullshit. You’re glad it’s dead. Glad to be rid of it. Of me.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Yeah, well, you know all about lies, don’t you? All those times you pretended to care for me just so you could get laid. All the sweet words you’re spewing out now. You feel guilty because you didn’t believe me, and now you’re trying to make up for it by acting like you actually have real feelings for me.”

Heath stood up and leaned over the railing of the bed. “I never pretended to care about you, Megan. I didn’t have to. I’ve always had feelings for you. I . . . I . . .”

Dillon willed him to say the words. Tell her you love her, Heath. Don’t blow it now. But it didn’t work. Heath balked, and Megan clenched her jaw as she confronted the truth as she saw it.

“What are you trying to say? That you love me? Is that it? Cause if it is, you look more like a man who’s just had a root canal without anesthesia than a guy who’s about to declare undying love.”

Heath clutched the plastic rails so hard they creaked. “I don’t know anything about love. Hell, I’m not even sure it exists. Not the kind of love people are always spouting off about, anyway.” He leaned down to better see her face. “That doesn’t mean you and I can’t have something special. I’m sure as hell willing to try. We had fun together, remember? We can again.”

Dillon bit back a groan as he watched Heath’s words wash over Megan’s rigid body. He was proud of the self-control in her voice when she spoke. He could only guess what it was costing her.

“Fun, huh. As in the no-strings-attached version of fun we had before?” She waved her hands over herself. “Look at me, Heath. Do I look like I’m having fun? When I told you I loved you and you ran out on me, was I having fun then? When I told you I was pregnant and you called me a rotten liar, was that the fun part? No wait. I’ve got it. The fun part must have been yesterday at the theater when I almost died trying to hold on to my baby, the one thing I wanted above anything else and will probably never have now.” Her eyes were shiny with unshed tears, but she held herself together. “Thanks for the offer, but no thanks. As much as I hate myself right now, even I know I deserve to be more than some guy’s fuck buddy.”

“Dammit, you’re more to me than that.”

Megan shook her head. “Just get out, Heath. Go away and leave me in peace.”

Heath started to refuse, but Dillon stepped in. “You heard her, Heath. She’s had enough.”

Heath thought it over for a tense minute before giving in. “Fine, I’ll go. But I’ll be back, Megan. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”

Megan’s lip trembled. “Over? How can it be over when it never even started?”

Heath didn’t reply. He stormed out of the room with his usual flare, but this time, Dillon didn’t bother to go after him. Leaving his brother to whatever demons he faced, Dillon lowered the side rail on Megan’s bed. He sat down beside her and did the only thing he could. He gathered her into his arms and held her while the rest of her world fell apart.

#

Jamie watched Dillon struggle with his tie for another minute before taking over. “Here. Let me do that. We’ll never make it on time if we wait for you to get it right.” Jamie’s fingers wove an automatic pattern of loops and knots over the silk cloth, bringing the tie into a perfect bow.

Dillon stepped back to survey the reflection of Jamie’s handiwork in the dresser mirror. “Next time I have to wear one of these stupid tuxes, I swear I’m gonna get a clip on tie. Where did you learn to do that, by the way?”

Jamie shrugged and grabbed his tux jacket from the edge of the bed. “Aunt Sadie taught me.” He quoted her, his voice a near perfect imitation of Sadie’s refined speech. “’Every decent gentleman should know the fine art of tie tying, Jamie.’” He laughed. “Only took me about sixteen years to get the hang of it.” He pulled his coat on and smoothed it out. “You look awful damn good in that ‘stupid tux,’ you know? You should wear them more often.”

Dillon adjusted his cummerbund. “You look pretty damn fine, yourself. Of course, for what these things are costing us to rent, we ought to look good.” He reached for his comb. “Tell me again why we have to do this?”

Jamie laughed. “Because you were dumb enough to get yourself elected student council vice president, and there’s a good chance the president won’t show, which means you could be hosting the prom all by your lonesome. Principal Ardsley only explained it like five times yesterday when he called.”

“I know, I know. Doesn’t mean I have to like it, though. I just hope Megan changes her mind and comes tonight. Not just because I don’t want to give a speech, either. It’s been two weeks since Megan lost the baby. It’s time she came back to the land of the living.” He sighed. “At least no one at school knows the real reason she’s been absent. They all think she’s got some kind of late-season flu.”

“Heck of a bright side. Have you talked to her today?”

Dillon shook his head. “I talked to Gale early this morning. She said Dr. Byrd has okayed Megan to resume all her normal activities, including the prom, if she feels like going and doesn’t over do it. According to Gale, Megan just keeps saying she isn’t ready, yet.”

“She didn’t look so hot when we went to see her the day before yesterday. Maybe she’s telling the truth. And she was rock solid about not going to the prom, then. No reason to think she’d have changed her mind in two days.”

Dillon gave up on his hair and went to work fastening his cuffs. “I know, but a guy can hope. At least it looks like Heath has finally gotten it through that thick skull of his that Megan doesn’t want to see him. Gale says he hasn’t called Megan in over four days.”

“Have you talked to him about it?”

“Not really. I went by the firehouse to check on him yesterday afternoon when I picked up our tuxes. He looks bad, but he won’t say anything about Megan except that she needs time, and he’s going to give it to her. I guess that’s why he hasn’t called her. Whatever the reason, Gale said Megan’s pretty relieved to have some of the pressure off.” Dillon pulled his coat from the hanger on the back of the closet doorknob. “You ready to go, sexy thang?”

Jamie grinned. “I’ll go, but only if you promise to bring me home and violate me after the prom.”

Dillon reached for his hand. “Count on it.”

#

They’d opted not to spend the five hundred bucks on a limo, even though Sadie offered to pay for it. Dillon’s reasoning was that five hundred dollars would buy enough used books to see them through the first semester of college. Jamie agreed, but he had his own reasons for not wanting the limo. He’d wanted them to take Ben’s Firebird. A final tribute to Ben at the last dance of their high school career somehow seemed fitting.

Jamie had been to the Amory Hotel a few times in his life, but the sheer size of the place always surprised him. As Reed’s only luxury hotel, the Amory served as everything from a prime location for parties, proms, and business conventions, to a haven for folks who were visiting Chicago and wanted to stay somewhere close by yet out of the hustle and grind of the big city. The real attraction of the Amory, for many, though, was the rooftop gardens. Jamie had only been up there once, when he was just a kid, but even then, he’d been impressed.

The main ballroom was packed when Dillon and Jamie got there, even though they were a good half-hour early. They had just enough time to pose for a cheesy picture set against a backdrop of Mylar balloons and crepe paper flowers before Principal Ardsley claimed Dillon for a quick pre-prom, student-council conference. Jamie wandered to the other side of the room, helping himself to a glass of punch while he watched his classmates make fools of themselves on the dance floor. Rooster Carmichael was there, along with his cronies and their dates, the lot of them turning circles around the dance floor in one big, rhythmic heap. Jamie even saw Chad Minton dancing with his date not far from where Rooster and the others gyrated. The thing that caught Jamie’s attention above anything else, though, was the music. He wasn’t sure where the student council dug up that D.J. they’d hired, but if the guy didn’t play something besides crappy ballads and tired dance mixes, soon, Jamie’s ears were going to start bleeding.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder, and a familiar voice said, “I wish I’d brought my Butthole Surfers CD. We could show them what real music sounds like.”

Jamie turned with a grin. “Ash, what are you doing here, man? I thought you’d given up on good ole’ Plunkett High.”

Ash laughed. “I did, but since I’ve completed all the credits I need to graduate, I still have prom eligibility.” He tugged at his highly starched collar. “Proms aren’t really my scene, but when the prettiest girl in school agreed to be my date, even a reformed dick-head such as myself had sense enough to jump at the chance.”

Jamie raised on brow. “Prettiest girl in school, huh?” He looked behind Ash but didn’t see anybody. “So, where is this vision of loveliness?”

“Right there.” Ash pointed to the stage where Megan was making her way to the mike and preparing for her welcome speech. Jamie had to admit, Ash had been dead-on in his description of Megan as the prettiest girl in school. She wore a gown of pale green silk that hugged her slender figure and accentuated every gentle curve. Her hair was bound up in spirals on top of head, soft curls framing her face. The most amazing thing, though, was the change in Megan’s eyes. They were a bright, sparkling blue again, not the dull, lackluster color they’d been the last time he’d seen her. Jamie wasn’t sure what had happened or how Ash had convinced her to come, but he felt like hugging the guy for his efforts. He settled for a slap on the back, instead.

Dillon joined them as the houselights dimmed and the spotlight fell on Megan. “Damn, she looks good. How’d you get her here, Barnes? This morning she wanted nothing to do with the prom.”

Ash shrugged. “It was no big deal. She already had her dress. Did you know women buy those things like, months in advance? Anyway, I went over to her house about three o’clock this afternoon, grabbed her dress out of the closet, and told her either she put it on willingly, or I was going to strip her down and dress her in it myself.”

Dillon didn’t bother to hide how funny he thought that was. “Bet she went ballistic.”

“You know it. She started hollering for Gale, begging her to make me go away. Cussed me up one side and down the other, too.”

Having tasted Megan’s temper once or twice, Jamie could believe it. “What did Gale say?”

Ash smiled. “She’s really the one who convinced Megan to come. Gale told Megan she’d help me stuff her into that dress.”

Dillon nodded. “Sounds like something Gale would say.”

“Yep. It was more than that, though. Gale let Megan spit and sputter for a while, and then she sat down on the edge of the bed, took her hand, and told Megan it was time to get on with the business of living.”

“And she was right.” The three of them turned to see Megan standing behind them. They’d been so busy talking they hadn’t noticed that she’d finished her speech and exited the stage. Megan didn’t seem to mind being the main topic of discussion. She greeted Jamie and Dillon with a tight but cautious hug and squeezed Ash’s hand.

“My mom pointed out that it was time for me to rejoin the human race. My baby might be gone, but I’m still here.” Her face darkened, but only for a second. “Throwing my life away is not going to honor my child.”

Dillon slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “Your mom’s one smart bird, you know that?” He hesitated. “What are you gonna do about Heath?”

“Nothing. At least not right now. I’m not ready to face Heath just yet.” She sighed. “Who knows? I may not ever be ready to deal with him. There’s one thing I do know and that’s I have to focus on getting myself well before I can worry about anything else.”

Dillon gave her a squeeze. “Sounds like a plan. By the way, you saved my ass from having to make a speech. I think I owe you a dance for that one.”

Megan lowered her voice to a loud whisper, using just enough volume to be clearly heard over the music. “What will your date say?”

Dillon’s eyes twinkled. “Who? Him?” He winked at Jamie. “He knows better than to argue. I wear the pants in our family.”

Jamie couldn’t resist. “Oh, yeah? That’s not what you said last night when I had you flat on your back with my d--”

Megan put her hands over her ears. “Whoa. Way too much information, boys.” She grabbed Dillon by the hand and tugged him towards the dance floor. “One dance, coming up.”

Megan’s return--battered and bruised though she was--made Jamie feel like the four of them had reached a turning point. Surely the worst was behind them. All they had to do know was put their lives back together and move forward.

They took turns dancing: Megan with each one of her boys, as she called them, Jamie with Dillon, even Jamie and Ash. The only two of them who didn’t take a turn on the floor together were

Ash and Dillon. Dillon said it was bad for his image. Ash told Dillon he should be so lucky. Between the dancing and the friendly jibes, Jamie was starting to feel positively relaxed.

Half-way in, Principal Ardsley called a halt to the dancing, asking students to take a seat while he announced this year’s king and queen. Jamie and Dillon took one side of a table for four not far from the stage, with Megan and Ash taking the other two chairs. Since votes for prom queen were student based, Jamie wasn’t surprised when Megan’s name was called. Megan, however, was stunned.

“Prom Queen? Me?”

Dillon snorted. “That one was a no-brainer, Meggie. First homecoming queen, then voted girl most likely to succeed. Not to mention student council president. Hell, I’d have been shocked if you hadn’t made prom queen.”

Megan stood and smoothed out her gown. “Yeah, yeah. Just remember, Mr. Student Council V.P., that works both ways.” She patted his head and went on stage.

Dillon didn’t know what she was talking about until his own name was called. “Damn. Prom king?”

“Like Megan said, boyfriend-o-mine, it works both ways.” Jamie nudged Dillon towards the stage. “Go ahead, your majesty. Claim thy queen.”

Dillon gave him a dirty look but did as he was told. After he left, Ash said, “Hey, Jamie? Do you think maybe we could talk?”

“Sure, man. Shoot.” Just as he said it, the music started for Dillon and Megan’s first dance as king and queen.

Ash had to strain his damaged voice to be heard over the blaring love song. “Not here. Do you think Carver would mind if we took a walk?”

“Nah. He and Megan will be busy with their royal duties for no telling how long.” Jamie stood. “Lead the way.”

Ash got up, heading towards the exit at the back of the ballroom where the elevators were. “Ever seen the rooftop gardens?”

“Once, when Aunt Sadie dragged me to some tea or luncheon she was invited too. That was years ago, though.”

Ash stopped at the first free elevator and punched the call button. “My dad entertains clients here sometimes. Me and the mom of the month have to put in an appearance--family unity and all that crap--but after a few minutes of playing the good son, I’m allowed to cut out on my own. I always seem to end up in the gardens. They’re something to see.” Ash stepped into the arriving elevator, holding the doors open for Jamie with his arm. Pressing the twelfth floor command, he waited until the doors closed again and said, “Would it bother you if we talked about Ben?”

Jamie had already guessed that Ben was who Ash wanted to talk about when he’d asked to go someplace private. Once, Jamie would have found it too painful, but not now. With Dillon’s help, the wounds were healing. “No, it doesn’t bother me. I think it’s only right, in a way. Since Ben can’t be here tonight, the least we can do is keep his memory alive.”




The Way You Say My Name Ch. 21



The elevator stopped and the doors opened. “I kinda feel the same way. Ben may not have had any real feelings for me, but I cared about him. That’s gotta count for something.” Ash stepped out of the elevator, leaving Jamie to follow.

The Amory’s rooftop gardens were even more spectacular than Jamie remembered. Pale moonlight and old-fashioned street lamps illuminated a forest of fresh smelling spring greens. How they got grass and small trees to grow on a roof, Jamie wasn’t sure, but the overall effect was amazing. The outer edges of the roof were railed by ornate, wrought-iron fencing, while hidden alcoves and arbors offered privacy and an incredible view of the gardens, themselves. Jamie could see why Ash was so drawn to the place.

Ash steered him towards a rose arbor not far from the northern edge of the roof. Jamie took the bench on the side facing out, giving Ash the side overlooking the gardens. Though a few other people--mostly couples--strolled along the pathways and sidewalks, Ash and Jamie remained partially hidden from view by the climbing rose bushes.

Ash was quiet for a minute, resting his elbows on his knees. Finally, he said, “Thanks for coming up here with me. I guess I needed to clear my head.”

“Are you okay, dude? This is your first school gig since you tried to . . .uh--”

Ash laughed, and there was no bitterness or self-recrimination in the sound. “Since I tried to off myself, you mean? It’s okay, Jamie. You can say it.” Ash sighed. “I’ll never get over what happened, not completely, but I’ve come to terms with it. As far as being here tonight goes, I really thought it would be more awkward than it has been. There probably isn’t a person at that prom who doesn’t know that I tried to kill myself, but everybody’s treated me the same as they always have.” He made a face. “Well, almost everybody.”

“Is somebody hassling you?”

“Nah. Well, not exactly. It’s just . . . you know Chad and I used to be really close, right?”

“Yeah. It was weird to ever see one of you without the other.”

“We were like brothers. At least, I thought we were. Ever since he found out about me and Ben, though, Chad’s treated me like some kind of leper.”

Jamie knew that feeling, knew how much it hurt. “I remember you telling us about how he freaked that day at the hospital. I’d hoped maybe the two of you had patched things up.”

Ash shook his head. “I wish. Every time I try to talk to him, he pushes me away. Even tonight, when Megan and I first got here, I tried to say hi. That’s it. Just hi. He looked at me like I had something hanging out of my nose, grabbed his date, and walked away.”

“Ouch. Sorry man.” Jamie fidgeted with one of his shirt buttons. “The thing is, Ash, I never could understand what you saw in the guy. He’s always seemed a little, I dunno, weird.”

Jamie was afraid he’d pissed Ash off with his statement about Chad, but Ash just shrugged. “My dad always said Chad was using me because we have money and he and his folks don’t, but I never felt that way. He was my friend, and I didn’t give a rat’s ass what he did or didn’t have.” His face fell. “That’s all over with now.” Straightening, he said, “Enough of this self-pity shit. We came up here to remember Ben. Let’s get on with it.”

Jamie laughed. “You make it sound like we’re having a wake for him or something. All we need now is some good whiskey and some sad music.”

Ash winced. “Don’t even mention whiskey. I drank so much of my dad’s bourbon the night of Ben’s memorial, I can still taste the stuff.” He shuddered. “I don’t know what I thought I was doing at the church that night.”

“Saying goodbye to the man you loved?”

“Maybe. It was more than that, I think. It’s like I couldn’t stay away, you know? Like I had to be there.”

“You lied! You said your dad made you go to Lewis’s memorial. All this time, you wanted to be there. God, I’m so stupid.”

The anger in Chad Minton’s voice startled Jamie. He turned his head to see Chad standing behind them, his jaw clenched, his feet spread apart like he was gearing for a fight. Unless Jamie was wrong, he’d been hiding behind an overgrown part of the arbor, listening.

If Jamie was startled, Ash was in total shock. “Jesus, Chad. You scared the hell out of me. Were you . . . were you spying on us, man?”

Chad kept talking as if he hadn’t heard the question. “All that talk about your father making you go to Lewis’s service was just another one of your lies.”

Ash blinked. “I was hurting, Chad. I needed to find a way to be close to Ben, to say goodbye, but I wasn’t ready to talk about my relationship with him. Making up that excuse about my dad forcing me to go to the church seemed like a plan at the time.” He frowned and then stood. “What do you mean, ‘just another one of my lies.’ You and me, we were tight. I never lied to you.”

“Oh no, Ash. You didn’t lie. You just went out every weekend with me, fucking girls and pretending like you weren’t a total fag. What in the hell do you call that, if it isn’t lying?”

Ash was shaking. Jamie stood as well, flanking Ash’s left side, ready to back him if needed. In spite of the shaking, though, Ash was holding his own.

“Like I tried to tell you at the hospital, I’m bisexual. Just in case that word is too big for you, I’ll break it down. I’m into girls and guys, not that it’s any of you business. So what if I didn’t take out a full-page-add in The Reed Daily Courier telling the whole world I swing both ways? Doesn’t mean I lied about it. Judging from your reaction, it’s a good thing I didn’t tell you. You only would have hated me sooner.”

Chad’s head whipped back like he’d been punched. “Hate you? Are you serious?” He slipped two fingers between his neck and collar, pulling hard. Wrenching his hand free, he said, “I worshipped the ground you walked on. You were my hero. I’d have done anything to protect you. I wanted to be you, dammit.”

“I’m no hero, yours or anyone else’s.” Ash turned his head. “Come on, Jamie. Let’s get out of here. I don’t feel like talking, anymore.”

As they walked past, Chad grabbed Ash’s arm, spinning them both so that Ash was facing Chad and the railing beyond. “You may not feel like talking, but you’re damned well gonna listen to me. You owe me that much.”

A dull red flush crept up Ash’s face. “I don’t owe you shit.”

“The hell you don’t. What about all those nights you blew me off so you could sneak down to that old foreman’s house and fuck Lewis’s brains out? Me, the guy who would do anything for you. Anything. And you just tossed me aside like I was nothing.”

Jamie’s head started to spin. “How did you know about the foreman’s house?”

Chad’s eyes whirled to Jamie like he’d only just realized Jamie was there. “What the hell are you talking about, Walker? And where’s your boyfriend? What’s a matter, got tired of Carver so you thought you’d give Ash a try?”

Jamie refused to take the bait. “How did you know that Ben and Ash used to meet down there?”

For a minute, Chad froze. Then his eyes narrowed on Ash. “You’d be surprised what I know.”

“Only a handful of people know that Ben and I used to meet there, and not a single one of them would have talked to you about it. There’s no way you could have known, unless. . .” Ash trailed off as his eyes fastened to the spot behind the arbor where Chad had been hiding. “Oh, God. You followed me out there.” The fury in his voice was frightening. “What did you do, Chad? Watch us through the windows? Did you get your rocks off, you sick son-of-a-bitch?”

“What, you think I liked watching that? God, Ash, don’t you see? I was trying to protect you. I knew there was no way you’d have willingly fucked around with a lowlife like Lewis. I knew he must have had some kind of hold over you. I was trying to figure out what that hold was so I could break it. The dirty bastard was using you, can’t you see that?”

Jamie took a step towards Chad. “Watch you mouth, Minton. No way in hell am I gonna let you stand there and insult Ben like that.”

“How can you defend him, Walker? You and Carver act like you care so much about Ash. Well, where the hell were you when Lewis was jacking Ash’s dad up for twenty-thousand dollars hush money?”

Jamie’s blood turned to ice, but it was Ash who spoke. “How did you know about that?”

Chad tried to back up, but there was no where for him to go. He was almost against the railing as it was. Ash grabbed the lapels of Chad’s jacket. “Answer me, dammit! How did you know about the blackmail?” By then, a small crowd of prom-goers and hotel guests had gathered to watch the show, but Ash didn’t seem to care. His entire being was focused on getting the answers out of Chad, one way or another. 

Chad seemed oblivious to the onlookers, as well. He shrank back as much as he could within Ash’s grasp, but he wasn’t giving up on the devoted friend routine. “Weren’t you listening to me? You were my best friend. It was my job to protect you. Your father sure as hell didn’t.”

Ash let go of Chad’s coat and stepped back, closing his eyes. “My father. That’s it. You were spying on him too, weren’t you? What did you do, go through his things?”

Chad took a step towards Ash. “You make it sound like I’m some kind of thieving sneak.”

Jamie said, “You mean you aren’t?”

“No!” Chad waited until Ash opened his eyes again and said, “Look, Ash, the day after I found you and Lewis together at the old mill, I went to see your father down at his office. I thought if he knew what was going on, he might be able to stop it, to help you.” He snorted. “Lot of good that did me. Your old man already knew you and Lewis were sleeping together. Told me it was your life and you had to live it as you saw fit, or something like that.” He curled his lip. “The bastard made it sound like you were in a relationship with Lewis, that you wanted it that way. But I knew better. I knew you’d never fag out on me, not for real. I could also tell by the way your dad was putting me off that he was hiding something. So, I did what I had to do.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Chad hedged. “I’ll tell you, but only because, once I explain it, you’ll see what a good friend I am. Then we can go back to the way we were.”

“For God’s sake, just tell me what you did.”

“I. . .I figured your dad wouldn’t keep anything personal at his office, so I went through his study until I found what I was looking for. He’s never home, so it wasn’t like I had to worry about him catching me.”

“You raided our house? When?”

Chad swallowed, but he was determined to prove himself. “Saturday, the day after the dance. Remember, I came over, and you were all upset, but you wouldn’t tell me why?”

Ash squeezed his hands into tight fists. “Ben had broken up with me. I’d been up all night, drinking and crying in my beer.” Understanding dawned. “You waited until I passed out, then broke into my dad’s files.”

Chad took offense. “It isn’t like I had to pick the locks or jimmy the hinges, Ash. The combination to your father’s filing cabinet is the same as your birthday. I figured that out years ago. I thought sure he knew something, something he wasn’t telling me. Turns out I was right.”

Ash was speechless, but Jamie wasn’t. “You found the pictures, didn’t you?”

“That, and a whole lot more. Mr. Barnes had a whole file on Lewis, including his demands for money and the actual payoffs that were made. It was clear that Mr. Barnes wasn’t going to do anything. It was up to me to fix things.”

That’s when Jamie knew. “You killed him. You killed Ben.”

That snapped Ash out of his trance. He looked at Chad like he was a stranger. Chad saw it, too. He panicked.

“No, no, I didn’t! He was hit by that drunk, remember? Everyone knows that.”

Ash’s voice came out in a broken rasp. “You’re lying. You killed him, then drug him out into the middle of the road and left him there.”

“It wasn’t like that.” Chad had tears in his eyes. “I only wanted to talk to him, to convince him to leave you alone, stop blackmailing you. I went to Nora Slater’s house late that night, after I knew Nora would be asleep. I just wanted to see if I could reason with Lewis. But he was leaving just as I got there.”

Jamie tried his best to keep his tone even. “So you followed Ben just like you followed Ash?”

“Yes. No.” He was getting frustrated. “You’re twisting it. I followed him yes, but only because I thought he was going to meet Ash. Then, when he turned onto Tully Road instead of taking the road out to the Mill, I knew something else was going on. I thought maybe he was banging someone else.”

“And you wanted to find out who so you could run back and tell Ash. How’d you tail him without getting caught?”

Even as desperate as he was, Chad seemed almost proud of himself. “It wasn’t hard. Tully Road is full of hills and side roads. The roads were clear, so I could see that flashy car of his even from a half-mile up. I watched him pull over onto the shoulder, and then I turned off on a dirt road a good distance away. Lewis probably thought I was just some drunk heading home. Anyway, I got out and walked the rest of the way up to where Lewis was parked, keeping myself hidden by walking in the tree line. I saw Lewis talking to Dan Morgan, saw him open the trunk of his car and hand something to the guy, but I wasn’t sure what it was. Morgan left first, but Ben was still fooling around with whatever was in the trunk when I popped out of the trees and confronted him.”

Ash had gone from purple to green. Jamie could tell he was feeling sick, but he managed to keep Chad talking, anyway. “You fought with him.” 

Chad was so keyed up, so intent on getting through to Ash, he didn’t seem to notice he was confessing to a roof full of witnesses. “Yeah. I didn’t set out to, but the guy made me so mad. The things he said. You have no idea, Ash. I told Lewis to keep away from you, asked him to give me the pictures and leave you alone. That’s when he told me to go to hell. And then he said . . . he said . . .”

“He said what, Chad? What did Ben say that made you kill him?”

“Shut up, Walker. I told you, it wasn’t like that.” He cast pleading eyes on his former best friend. “Lewis was using you Ash--hurting you--and the asshole had the nerve to try and turn it around on me. He called me a sponge, said I only hung around you to make myself look better. Lewis said without you, I was nothing. Claimed you made me what I am, that I would be a nobody as far as the rest of the school was concerned if you turned your back on me. Then he said he was going to talk to you, Ash, tell you that I was a spy, a sneak. He said by the time he was through, you’d never speak to me again. It would have been over between us.”

And with those words, Ben had hit on Chad’s worst fears. Chad, who came from nothing and had nothing to look forward to in his life, counted on Ash, the golden boy, to keep him afloat, to define him. Ben was the one person standing between Chad and the center of his universe. For that alone, Ben had been given a death sentence. Jamie took a deep breath. “You grabbed the jack handle out of Ben’s trunk and hit him with it.”

Chad’s eyes were wild, darting back and forth between Jamie and Ash in a crazed frenzy. “I had to stop him. I wasn’t trying to kill him. I only wanted to make him go away. To leave us alone. I picked up the jack handle, but only to threaten him with. But Lewis freaked, and he rushed me. I swung without thinking about it, and knocked him over the head.” Chad’s tears started to fall. “But he kept coming at me, kept trying to fight back. And I kept hitting, over and over, until he wasn’t moving, anymore.”


Ash sank to his knees and started to retch. Jamie wanted to go to him, but he couldn’t. He had to finish it. “So you dragged Ben’s body out into the middle of the road, and then slashed his tire to make it look like he’d been changing a flat.”

Chad put his head down and nodded. “I started to throw his jack handle back into the trunk, but there was blood all over it. I had just enough time to run back to my car and switch Lewis’s handle with mine before that drunk guy came barreling down the road. He made it so easy, didn’t even try to stop. He hit Lewis and then took off in one direction while I ran back to my car and took off in the other.”

Ash looked up from where he was kneeling on the grass. “You left him there like a piece of road kill.”

Chad was full-on sobbing. “I thought that would fix it. With Lewis gone, you and me, we should have been okay. But you were different. You acted like you missed the bastard. I took hope from the fact that you said your father was making you go to that stupid memorial service, but, deep down, I knew it was a lie. You wanted Lewis more than you wanted anything or anyone, even me. You wanted him enough to die for him, with him. I was so damn scared when I heard you’d tried to kill yourself. I rushed to the hospital, only to hear you say you were bisexual. That’s when I knew for sure. No matter what Lewis had done to you, you were in love with the guy I’d killed him for nothing.” Chad struggled for breath and swiped at the tears rolling down his face. “I thought if I got away from you, pretended I was mad about you being a fag, that the distance between us would make you see how much you needed me, how important I am to your life.” His anguish rose. “But you went on without me, damn you. You picked up the pieces of your life and came out better for it. You came out on top, and I’m right where I started. At the bottom.” He moved back so that he was gripping one of the iron pickets on top of the guard rail. “You have it all, and I got nothing left.”

In that instant, Jamie knew that there would be no trial for Chad Minton, no day of reckoning in front of a jury of his peers. Even before Chad took the three steps needed to climb over the top of the railing, Jamie could see it. Chad Minton had come full circle. For one shining moment, he’d been in the sun, catching the rays Ash had shed his way. From bottom to top was one thing, but going back again wasn’t an option. Jamie reached out his hand to grab Chad, to stop him from going down the one road from which he could never come back. He caught a handful of Chad’s coat, the fabric making an even rip as Chad freed himself from the last of his bonds. 

(TO BE CONTINUED) 



The Way You Say My Name Ch. 22



Jamie placed one more box on top of the stack in the back of the U-haul and moved aside so Ash could close the door. “Is that everything?”

“Yep. That was the last box.” Jamie wiped the sweat out of his eyes, not that it did any good. The late August sun was relentless, especially at three o’clock in the afternoon. He couldn’t wait to get back inside the air-conditioned apartment. But first, thanks were in order. “I appreciate your coming over here and helping me load all this up, man. Dillon wanted me to wait until he got back, but I hate packing. I figure it’s better just to get it over with.” When Ash nodded his agreement, Jamie said, “I still can’t believe your dad is doing this. I can’t believe he bought and furnished a house near Garman just so the three of us wouldn’t have to live in the dorms.”

Ash grinned and shrugged back into the t-shirt he’d shed while they were loading the truck. “I can. You know my dad, Jamie. He’s still pissed that you wouldn’t keep that money Ben left you. You should have known he’d find a way to pay you back, somehow. He feels like he owes you for all you’ve done for me. Hell, I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for you.” His face fell. “Not to mention the way you helped me when Chad. . .well, you know.”

Jamie nodded. “How are you doing with that?”

Ash sighed. “I still can’t believe he’s gone, even though it’s been over three months. After everything he did, I think a part of me will always miss Chad.”

“Understandable. He was a part of your life. And watching a guy kill himself isn’t something you just get over.”

“I know. I’m glad that you and Dillon didn’t have my death to add to the shit you’ve already been through. Where did you say Dillon is, again?”

“Saying goodbye to Heath.”

Ash leaned against the back of the truck. “Heath’s not coming to the going-away-party your aunt’s throwing for you guys tonight?”

“Nope.”

“Not that I’m sorry to hear it, but why?”

“Said he didn’t want to be around a bunch of people right now. He’s taking Megan’s leaving town a whole lot harder than I thought he would.”

Ash curled his lip. “It’s his own damn fault. I feel the same way about Heath that I feel about Chad’s father.”

Jamie propped his foot on the bumper of the U-haul. “What do you mean?”

“You saw how Mr. Minton acted that night at the police station. A whole roof full of people heard Chad confess to killing Ben, and Mr. Minton still didn’t want to believe it. He practically accused us of pushing him.”

Jamie winced. “Don’t remind me. Talk about misery. The thing is, though, I felt sorry for the guy. He’d just lost his son. He must have loved Chad a lot to be so torn apart by his death.”

Ash shook his head. “That’s just it. Up until that night, he acted like he didn’t even know Chad was alive. Mr. Minton drank or gambled away every paycheck he ever got. If it hadn’t been for Chad’s grandma, the guy wouldn’t have even had clothes to wear. And Chad’s mom was just as bad, leaving him home alone every night while she was out screwing around on his dad.” Ash spat on the ground. “Heath’s exactly like they are. He treated Megan like some whore he picked up for the night, then acts like he’s dying with love for her now that she’s gone.”

“Yeah, well, some people don’t know when they’ve got it good. At least Megan sounds like she’s doing okay. She called us this morning to tell us she finished up her summer credits. She sounded better than she’s sounded in a long time.”

“Yeah. I talked to her for a little while last night. She’s still giving me lip about not walking with the rest of you on graduation night.”

Jamie’s skin itched just thinking about that stupid cap and gown. “You didn’t miss anything, believe me. Megan did miss you at graduation, though. She mentioned you not being there only about a hundred and fifty times. She’s really come to depend on you.”  

“I’m just glad she had someone to lean on. With you guys, her family, and me, Megan was able to pull it all together.” Ash drew a deep breath. “Someone should have done something like that to help Chad. I should have done something. If I had, maybe--”

Jamie didn’t let him finish. “Don’t even say that. You had no way of knowing that the guy was obsessed with you. He killed Ben because he wanted him out of the way. You couldn’t have known Chad was that close to the edge. Ben sure as hell didn’t, or he wouldn’t have taunted him that night.”

Ash shoved his hands in his pockets. “I know. Here I am bellyaching, when you’ve been through just as much as I have. How are you taking this?”

“I can accept it. Morgan’s gonna do life for offing Carpenter, and with Mitch’s testimony, a good chunk of Carpenter’s clients are gonna get what they deserve. As for Ben’s killer,” Jamie shrugged. “Seeing Chad take a twelve story leap still gives me nightmares, but I’m dealing with it. You still in therapy with Dr. Carson?”

“Yep. He upped my sessions to twice a week just in case all this turned out to be more than I could take, and he’s recommended a good therapist not far from Garman.” Ash pulled his keys out of his pocket. “Speaking of Garman, I’d better get this truck back to my dad. One the guys who works for him is gonna drive it up there for us tonight. You and Dillon gonna head up in the morning?”

“Yep. We’re gonna crash with Aunt Sadie tonight and then head out at dawn. You?”

“We’re heading for New York tonight, after the party. Dad and I are driving up together, then he’s gonna ride back home in the U-haul with the guy who’s driving the truck.” Ash started towards the cab of the truck, then stopped. “Hey, I just thought of something. How are you guys gonna get both cars up to Garman? Is someone gonna drive the Firebird up there for you? Cause I’m sure my dad would be glad to, if you asked him.”

“Not a problem, dude. The Firebird is staying here.”

Ash narrowed his eyes. “Don’t think that by leaving the car here you’re gonna get out of learning how to drive. Dillon and I have both told you that we’re gonna teach your ass to drive once school starts, whether you like it or not.”

Jamie smiled. “Believe me, that’s a fate I’ve resigned myself to. When I said the car was staying here, what I meant was, it isn’t mine anymore. I sold it.”

Ash whistled. “I’d have bet good money that you’d never get rid of that car. What made you change your mind? Price too good to turn down?”

“Something like that.” Jamie didn’t bother to tell Ash that he’d sold the car for a whopping one dollar and fifty cents.

“Cool. Who bought it? Whoever it is got one heck of a sweet ride.”

“Actually, I sold it to Mitch. Now that Morgan’s sentencing is over and the investigation is coming to a close, he’s out of protective custody. He’s gonna need wheels for his new job.” Jamie glanced up for just a second at the cloudless blue sky. “I think Ben would have wanted it that way.”

“You’re probably right. Where’s Mitch gonna be working, anyway? Chicago?”

“Nope. He’s working for the guy who bought Nora’s house. Blake, I think the guy’s name is.”

“Over at the new domestic violence shelter? Damn. I guess he and Ben knew all about that. Violence, I mean.” Ash turned away, but not before Jamie saw the sadness and pain shadowing his eyes. Jamie started to say something, but thought better of it. Some wounds couldn’t be healed with words. Ash took a second to compose himself, then said, “Okay, enough of this. Things to see, people to do, that sort of thing.” He punched Jamie on the shoulder. “See you at the party, roomy.”

“You know it.” Jamie watched as Ash got into the truck and pulled out of the driveway. As nice as it was of Aunt Sadie to throw them this party, Jamie had another party in mind. A private party. All he had to do now was wait for Dillon to come back, and then it would be time. This particular celebration had been delayed long enough.

      #

Heath grabbed two sodas out of the fridge, taking one for himself and tossing the other one to Dillon, Slumping down on the couch, he said, “So, you’re a college man now, huh? How does it feel?”

Dillon stretched his legs out in front of himself and leaned back in his chair, kicking a pile of clothes out of the way in the process. Heath’s apartment had reverted back to the pigsty it once was, but Dillon was too excited about leaving for Garman to worry about it. “It feels damn good, even though I won’t officially be a ‘college man’ until I take my first class.”

Heath cracked open his drink and took a sip. “You’re in at Garman, and that’s what counts. You made it, kid. Oh, that reminds me,” he placed his can on the coffee table and reached into his pocket, “I have something for you.” Heath pulled out an envelope and passed it across the table to Dillon. “I should have given you that the night you graduated, but, well . . . you know.”

Dillon knew exactly what had happened graduation night. Heath had been so afraid of ruining it for Megan, he’d stayed away. Dillon didn’t say anything, though. Heath was hurting bad enough without having it rubbed in his face. Instead, Dillon reached for the envelope. “What’s this?”

“Open it and see. Call it a late graduation present.”

Dillon slid his finger under the flap and broke the seal, recognizing the watermark of a cashier’s check sitting inside. Dillon pulled the check free and nearly dropped it when he saw the amount. “Eighty-thousand-dollars? Jesus Christ, Heath, where did you get this kinda money?”

Heath shrugged. “I always knew I wanted to be a firefighter, but Mom and Dad thought it was beneath me. Dad wanted me to follow in his footsteps, the next big time lawyer from the Carver clan. The old man set up a college fund for me, same as he did for you. And just like you, the thing was in my name, so I got to keep it when I moved out. I never used it, and I figure it’s only fair for you to have it.”

Dillon didn’t know what to say. He tried to give it back. “I can’t take this, Heath. You could use this money for anything. Hell, you could buy yourself a house.”

Heath’s eyes darkened. “I don’t need anything, Dillon. Not that money can buy, anyway. As for a house, there’s only one person I want to set up housekeeping with, and she’s out of my reach.”

“You don’t know that. Megan could still come around.” Dillon knew it was a long-shot, but he had to say something.

“You know better than that, kid. Megan told me the last time I saw her that she doesn’t love me, not anymore.” Heath laughed, a sound devoid of humor. “Isn’t that the definition of irony? Just when I realize I’m so in love with the woman I could die for her without blinking, I kill whatever love she felt for me in the first place.” Before Dillon could form a response, Heath shifted the subject. “Anyway, like I was saying, I want you to have that money. You’ll have enough to deal with when school starts without having to work extra hours just to make ends meet. Besides,” Heath smiled the first true smile he’d given Dillon all afternoon, “I think it’s the perfect revenge on our esteemed parents. Can you imagine how hard it’s gonna be for them knowing that you’re spending their money not only your from your own account but mine, too? I can just see it now. Dad will be sitting in his study, thinking about you and Jamie enjoying a night of sin-filled debauchery on his dime. Priceless, I tell you.”

Dillon laughed. “Who’s gonna tell them, you?”

“I already told them, my friend. Pissed isn’t the word to describe their reaction.”

Dillon stiffened. “You saw them? When?”

“Settle down, Dillon. Open up that Coke you’re holding in your lap, take a drink, and relax.” Heath picked his own drink back up and took another sip. “Mom and Dad came to see me at the fire station last night. Claimed they wanted to know how you were doing.”

“What did you tell them?”

“The truth, that they lost the right to ask about you the minute they threw you out of the house. When Dad tried to argue that leaving was your choice, I asked him if nearly being tortured by a mad scientist in psychologist’s clothing had been your choice, too.”

Dillon whistled. “Bet he liked that.”

Heath laughed. “I thought the old man was gonna have a stroke. Mom tried to cover, saying they had no idea what Henderson had in mind for you.”

Dillon’s outraged protests sent soda spewing halfway across the room. Wiping Coke from his chin, he said, “What a crock. The only reason our parents weren’t prosecuted as accomplices is because of that deal Alicia struck with Dad to drop the charges against Jamie and testify against Henderson.” Dillon sighed. “Thank God Henderson had sense enough to plead out. He’s gonna shave a couple of years off his sentence, but at least Jamie and I won’t have to come back to testify.” 

“I know. I told them as much, about the deal Dad made and all, but you know how they are. Mom had some bogus explanation, and Dad just ignored me. I finally told them that I was busy just so they’d leave.”

Dillon nodded. “I don’t blame you.” He glanced down at his watch. “Shit. I gotta go, Heath. I told Jamie I’d be back like half an hour ago.” He stood up, and so did Heath. Dillon clutched the cashier’s check to his chest. “I still don’t know how to thank you for this Heath. I’m at a loss.”

“Like I told you, you don’t have to thank me. Just . . .” He paused. “Just make sure you tell Jamie everyday how much you love him. Don’t fuck up your chance at happiness the way I did, okay?”

“I won’t.” Dillon grabbed his brother and pulled him into a tight hug. Heath was stiff at first, but before long he was returning the hug tenfold. Dillon said, “I love you Heath.”

Dillon heard a suspicious sniff. “Yeah, yeah.” Heath pulled back. “Now, get out of here before Jamie thinks you’ve stood him up.”

“He knows that will never happen.” Dillon slapped Heath on the back on last time. He started for the door, but Heath’s voice stopped him. “Dillon?”

Dillon turned. “Yeah?”

Heath shuffled his feet. “It’s not easy for me to say the words, you know? Mom and Dad have told us all our lives how much they love us, and look how that turned out. And I love Megan, but look what I did to her.” He looked Dillon in the eye. “Even so, you know I love you, too, right?”

Dillon nodded. His brother’s love was one thing he’d never doubted. 

      # 

Jamie smiled when he heard Dillon’s car pulling into the driveway. Meeting him at the door, he said, “I was starting to think you’d run off to New York without me.”

Dillon wrapped him tight in his arms and spun him around. “Never happen.” Dillon put him down and looked around the apartment, noticing the boxes were all gone. “I told you I’d be back to help you and Ash load the truck.”

“Ash came early, so we decided to get it over with. It didn’t take long with the both of us working.”

“Still, I wanted to help.”

“I know you did, but it was no big deal.” Jamie kissed his nose. “How was Heath?”

“Missing Megan like crazy, and trying not to show it. He hasn’t been the same since she left town, but he doesn’t talk about her much, other than to say he fucked up, which we already knew.” Dillon remembered the check. “You won’t believe what he gave me as a belated graduation gift.”

Jamie listened as Dillon told him the story and then showed him the check. All he could think of to say was, “Damn.”

Dillon grinned. “That was my reaction, too.” Dillon took another look at the apartment. “Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do?”

“Well, there is one thing. Come with me into the bedroom.”

“What’s the matter, baby? Didn’t you get enough of me this morning?”

Jamie gave his arm a solid whack. “Since when do we have to go to the bedroom for that? As I remember, we’ve managed quite nicely in the living room, the kitchen . . .”

“The garage, the car.” Dillon laughed. “I get the point. Well, if you’re not gonna let me have my wicked way with you, what’s in the bedroom?”

Jamie grew serious. “Ben’s ashes.”

Dillon caught on. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

Jamie nodded. “Ben’s instructions were to wait until I was ready, then scatter his ashes.”

Dillon ran his fingers through Jamie’s hair. “As I remember it, Ben wanted you to wait until you were completely happy and then scatter his ashes.” Dillon used one finger to lift Jamie’s chin so that they were eye to eye. “Are you happy, Jamie? Completely, I mean?”

Jamie leaned into his touch. “Do you doubt it?”

“No, but you’ve been through so much. If you want to wait a while, until you’re sure you’re ready to say goodbye, I think even Ben would understand.”

“I’ve already said goodbye, in my heart, anyway. All that’s left now is to say goodbye in the physical sense.”

“Do you have any idea where you want to go?”

“Actually, I do.”

      #

To say that Cain Lucas, owner of Reed’s largest junkyard/garage--and the place where Ben had bought most of the parts for his car--was surprised by Jamie’s request was putting it mildly. The three of them stood inside Cain’s immaculate shop. Cain pinned his dark eyes on Dillon, looking to him for help. 

Dillon said, “Don’t look at me. This is Jamie’s show. I’m just along for the ride.”

Cain turned back to Jamie. Jamie knew Cain from the times he’d come out here with Ben, looking for parts. Jamie was a little in awe of the big man. With his long black hair and his bronze skin, Cain looked more like a Cherokee warrior than a garage owner. He was a study in beauty.

Jamie waited a tense minute while Cain made his decision. Jamie was afraid Cain would deny his request, but finally, he said, “Ben Lewis was a good customer of mine. I always try to put my customers first,” he glanced down at the urn, “no matter what the circumstances.” Cain wiped his grease-stained hands on a rag he’d pulled from the pocket of his coveralls, then pointed one long finger towards the rear of the junkyard. “The Firebirds and Camaros are in the back. Take your time.”

Jamie almost sighed with relief. “Thanks, Mr. Lucas. I appreciate it.”

Cain smiled, softening the lines of his face. “You can thank me by calling me Cain.”

Jamie thanked him again and walked outside. Dillon followed, but stopped just outside the door. “You want me to go with you?”

Jamie shook his head. “This is something I have to do by myself, I think.”

Dillon kissed him on the lips. “I’ll be waiting for you here then.”

Jamie made his way through the junkyard, dodging wrecked cars and homeless engines. It took him about ten minutes to make it to the back. He stopped in front of a car that looked to be the same make and model as Ben’s and sat on the slightly crooked hood. Holding the urn in his lap, he began to speak.

“I don’t know if you can hear me or not, Ben, but I kinda think you can. Maybe that’s just wishful thinking on my part, but I don’t believe it is. Anyway, I’m here to fulfill your last wish.” Jamie took a deep breath. “You asked me to release your ashes when I was completely happy. I’m not sure if it’s possible to be totally happy, not forever after, anyway, but I can honestly say that there’s nothing more in my life that I want or need.” He paused. “Okay, so that’s not true. If I could just have you back here with me, then I’d want for nothing. But that isn’t possible. You’re gone, and I’m still here.”

Jamie stopped long enough to watch a barn swallow dip and dive over the wreckage of an old Ford a few cars away. Looking back down at the urn, he said, “I’m sure you already know this, but Chad is dead. He paid for what he did to you, just like Burke Carpenter paid. Like Morgan paid.” Jamie sighed. “I don’t know if that will give you peace, but I hope so. I hope you find in death what you never had in life.”

Jamie took the lid off the urn. “By your own count, there were two things in this world you loved: me, and your car. I never could understand why you chose me out of all the guys you could have had, and I’m sorry I couldn’t give you what you wanted in return. The best I can do is honor your memory. I wracked my brain to come up with the best way to do that, and all I could come up with was living my life to the fullest, enjoying each day in ways you’re no longer able to do.” Jamie grinned, “That, and I can give you a decent burial, so to speak.” He slid off the hood of the car, clutching the urn close to his body. “Knowing how much you loved that car of yours, I can’t think of a better place for you to spend eternity. Well, your ashes, anyway.” Jamie took a handful of ashes, scattering them in the slight breeze. He repeated the action until the urn was empty, then placed the container on the ground. “Goodbye, Ben. God knows I’ll never forget you.”




The Way You Say My Name Ch. 22



Jamie made it back to Dillon a few minutes later. “I’m finished. We can go if you’re ready.”

Dillon nodded and reached for his hand. “You okay?”

Jamie didn’t hesitate. “As a matter of fact, I am.” He followed Dillon back to his car. “Like I told someone else just a few minutes ago, I have everything I need.”

    {The End}