Just the Facts, Volume 1

by Edward Kendrick

  After the female reporter was done, he asked if anyone wanted to ask him questions in Japanese. The TV crew laughed. Dimas studied the small group that had been asking him questions, and wished Hunter was among the group. He wanted to share this moment with him.

  If only Hunter wasn’t so scared of what people thought. What Carl thought. He wondered if anyone would really care if Hunter came out.

  Luckily, after almost an hour of it, the questioning ended. His agent, impatient, since he had to take off for New York, signaled the interviews were done. Dimas himself didn’t wait for the camera assist to come over and remove his microphone off his golf shirt: he removed it himself and stood up, shaking hands quickly with several people who were near the exit.

  He practically ran up the stairs to his suite instead of taking the elevator, texting Hunter as he made his way up, and when he arrived in their room, he was disappointed to find it empty. He stepped into the bedroom and saw the latte sitting on the nightstand. He picked it up; it was room temperature.

  But no Hunter. And still no text.

  He wondered if Hunter was with Carl since Carl was supposed to check out today.

  He’d been thinking all morning about the two of them, Dimas and Hunter. In fact, the idea of the two of them becoming more public distracted him most of the morning. He wanted Hunter and wanted talk to him, but his absence was painfully disquieting.

  Where the fuck is he?

  Chapter 3

  Six Years Earlier

  Dimas whistled. “Nice house.” Hunter never carried himself off at school as an entitled or privileged kid like some others on their golf team, but the large house clearly dispelled this myth. Dimas chuckled. Hunter and his secrets. He still marveled that Hunter Mullins was the stepson of Carl Mullins, the pro golfer, a secret he just recently been told. Dimas had been sworn to secrecy by Hunter not to tell the others on the golf team. He wanted to be treated like anyone else.

  “Thanks,” Hunter said. “My mother likes the Victorian style.” Hunter parked on the driveway, not bothering to open up the detached garage door. “Come on.” They took their carry-ons and walked up to the front door. Hunter struggled to open the door with his key, when the door flew open. A petite strawberry blonde woman stood.

  “There you are!” She threw her arms open and hugged Hunter.

  “Hi, Mom!”

  “This is my friend, Dimas,” Hunter pointed to Dimas, who promptly shook her hand. She grinned from ear to ear and cocked her head to Hunter. “I’m glad to meet you.”

  “Thanks for inviting me for Thanksgiving, Mrs. Mullins,” Dimas said.

  “It’s our pleasure. I’m glad you can join us. And please, call me June.”

  Dimas stepped inside the house, putting his carry-on by the front door, next to Hunter’s, marveling on the polished wooden floors, and the Victorian details. He stepped into the foyer and the smell of turkey roasting in the oven greeted him. His stomach rumbled. They’d left Tallahassee about six hours earlier, and the Burger King breakfast was now a memory.

  An hour later, they sat to dinner. Carl joined them shortly as the turkey was placed on the table. He’d played golf earlier, and Carl’s freckled cheeks were red from the wind and sun. As he started carving out pieces, he gazed over to Dimas. “Your last name is Japanese, but Hunter says you grew up in Peru?”

  “Yes, my grandfather came over from Japan, Okinawa actually, to Peru around 1900 looking for work. He worked on farms, then stayed, married, and my father helped start a farm with him.”

  “I would have never guessed you were part Japanese,” June said. She smiled, passed the mash potatoes to Hunter, who sat across from her, then the gravy. “Has anyone told you look like one of Hunter’s favorite TV actors?”

  Dimas turned to Hunter, who sat on his right. “Oh? No.”

  “Stop it, Mom. Don’t embarrass me,” Hunter mumbled, his face turning red.

  “I can’t remember his name, but I remember the show, Saved By the Bell.”

  “Well, I hope I don’t remind you of Principal Belding.”

  Hunter shook his head. His face still red from embarrassment.

  “It’s the Zack kid, you look like.”

  Dimas let out a hearty laugh. “Thanks, I get that a lot. You know the actor who plays Zack is part Dutch, part Indonesian. So, like me, he’s mixed Asian.”

  “Do you speak Japanese?” June asked.

  “I do speak some Japanese, but my grandfather says it’s good enough to be a tourist, but I’d probably would never be considered a native. I can’t read Japanese.”

  “Your English is pretty good,” Carl said.

  “My mother’s Canadian, so it was English and Spanish spoken at home, and I listened to my father and grandfather in Japanese.”

  “My family’s Scotch-Irish, I suspect some German ancestry,” Carl chimed. “And Hunter will carry on that legacy.”

  “I’m partly Scotch-Irish,” June said. “We came to live with Carl when Hunter was around five, and Hunter took Carl’s last name after the adoption papers were signed. I’ve been fortunate, we’ve been fortunate to travel to Ireland and Scotland, and look up our ancestry.”

  “You’re on the same team as Hunter?” Carl asked as he passed the turkey platter. “And how is Hunter on the golf team?”

  “He’s great. Coach thinks we can make nationals this year.”

  Carl nodded. “He needs to work on his long game though. He under swings the shot and doesn’t consistently follow through.” Carl took a long sip of his white wine.

  Dimas glanced over to Hunter, who had his head down, silent as he ate.

  It must be tough living with a stepfather who’s a pro and trying to escape his shadow.

  “Until he fixes those problems, he’ll never make it into the pros. Everyone’s trying to be the next Tiger Woods these days, and you see the mess he got himself in recently. But Hunter, and I’m being honest for Hunter’s sake. He’s got to make major changes in his golf game before he can even make it.”

  Dimas didn’t say anything. He hadn’t expected Carl to take these shots at Hunter, not at the dinner table and not on Thanksgiving. Hunter didn’t say anything, and June’s flushed face displayed embarrassment too. He wanted to break the awkward silence.

  “Hunter’s moving in with me at my condo. The condo’s not far from the Southwood Golf Club. As roomies, and extra practice we’ll have a better shot in pushing through and winning collegiate tournaments.” Dimas took a bite of the green bean casserole.

  “Well, I don’t know how he’s going to do that, unless he takes a part-time job or something. I’m paying for tuition and board at Florida State. That was the promise. When I was growing up there was never any promise that my college would be paid by my parents. As it is, Hunter’s barely pulling a C plus right now.”

  “My psychology grade,” Hunter added, “didn’t help with my GPA.”

  “So he doesn’t need distractions. No partying, no girls,” Carl said.

  “Yeah, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about too many girls,” Hunter said.

  “What does that mean?” Carl asked, raising his voice. He poured more white wine into his glass. Carl openly glared at Hunter and waited for a response, while Hunter chewed his food slowly.

  “What do you think of the green bean casserole?” June asked. “It’s my mother’s recipe.” She smiled, weakly.

  Dimas nodded. “It’s great. I love it. The food’s delicious.”

  Carl sat back in his chair, moving away from Hunter’s personal space. Clearly, Hunter was intimidated by Carl. Dimas interpreted June’s interjection as proof that she often played peacemaker between the two. He wondered what happened when she wasn’t around and it was only Carl and Hunter.

  The foyer and hallway opened from the formal dining room, and Dimas saw Hunter’s carry-on next to his. Something told him that it’d be better if Hunter and he weren’t here for this weekend.

  “On the way in, my parents emailed me that t
hey’re flying into Miami today.” Dimas held Hunter’s hand under the table and squeezed it. “I appreciate the offer to stay here this weekend, and this meal is amazing, but Hunter and I plan on spending the remainder of Thanksgiving with my parents. Great golf courses and great weather this time of the year in south Florida.”

  Dimas studied Carl who seemed ambivalent. Hunter squeezed Dimas’ hand, acknowledging his thanks.

  “Oh, honey, I was hoping to spend some time with you this weekend,” June said.

  “I never cared too much for Miami,” Carl said. “Don’t get me wrong. Doral—that’s a nice course to play—but too many fags. They’re everywhere down there. Doesn’t even seem to be part of Florida.”

  Dimas almost yelped when Hunter crushed Dimas’ hand after Carl’s comment. “Yeah, we’re hoping to hit at Doral. Plan to hit other golf courses too besides spending time with my parents. You know the more you practice, the better.”

  No one said anything for a while. Dimas almost broke the silence again but June spoke out first. “Well, that sounds nice,” June said. “Family is everything.” Her shoulders drooped in resignation as the meal continued in silence.

  After dinner and dessert, and after Carl had started dozing watching football, Dimas and Hunter helped June put away dishes and pack away leftovers. As soon as everything was washed, and the table cleared, June walked them both out as Carl snored in the living room.

  They both hugged June goodbye. Dimas caught June whispering to Hunter that she liked Dimas and wished they could’ve stayed for the holiday.

  They were soon slowly driving past the little mansions of Ponte Vedra, but it wasn’t until they saw a sign that read, “Leaving St. Johns County,” that Hunter talked about dinner. “I’m sorry about dinner. I thought he’d be more pleasant.”

  “You weren’t at all surprised at dinner how he acted. It was like you expected it.”

  “My mom said he’s been drinking a lot lately. More than usual. He hasn’t won a major in a few years. And the endorsements aren’t going to him like they used to. So money’s been tight.”

  Dimas nodded, his hands on the steering wheel. “He doesn’t have to treat you like shit though. He should be more supportive.” Dimas bit his lip. “I guess this is when I tell you that I lied. My parents aren’t coming to town.”

  “I figured.”

  “So you went along?”

  “Of course. When you squeezed my hand, really hard, I knew you wanted me to go along. So where are we going?”

  “We’re going to Miami. My parents sent me some money from Peru, enough to have a few good days in the warm south Florida sun.”

  “Is there someone in Miami we’re visiting?” Hunter’s tone betrayed his concerns.

  Dimas shook his head. “No, I broke up with her last term. I’m going to Miami to get away from it all. You’re coming with me. Because—’’

  “Because? Because what?”

  “Okay, I’ll say it, and you don’t have to say it back…because you’re my boyfriend.”

  Hunter chortled. It was low, unexpected, then it turned into a giddy laugh. “Really?” Hunter kissed Dimas’s cheek so hard that his head cocked over to the left a little.

  “Hey, I’m driving.”

  “I know, I know…boyfriend.”

  Dimas laughed. If passionate kissing while driving on the open highway weren’t dangerous, he would do it. But for safety reasons, he’d have to save his kisses for later. He was just happy to hear the laughter and smile in Hunter’s voice again. And glad he’d gotten him away from Carl.

  Chapter 4

  Dimas’s cell buzzed, and he fished it out of his pocket and answered it right away because Hunter’s caller ID appeared. “Hey, what’s up? I’ve been looking for you. You haven’t responded to my texts.”

  “I’m sorry,” Hunter whispered.

  Dimas’s brow furrowed. Hunter’s voice was hurried and stressed.

  “I’ve been in Carl’s suite. They found him.”

  “Was he missing—”

  “He’s dead. They say he’s dead,” Hunter’s voice broke over the phone. “They want me to identify him. I don’t know if I can.” Hunter cried into the receiver.

  Dimas’s heartbeat quickened. “What’s the suite number, babe? Tell me the suite number! I’ll be right there.” Dimas grabbed the pen by the nightstand and wrote down the suite number. It was on the other side of the hotel, but Dimas ran and before he knew it, he was standing outside the open door.

  A million thoughts flooded Dimas’ brain. All of them colliding with each other. Hunter was okay? Right? He didn’t sound right on the phone. Guilt knotted his stomach. He said a lot of bad things about Carl, and now he regretted saying them to Hunter because he knew Hunter cared for his stepfather. He hoped Hunter was okay.

  What the fuck do I say to him? What are the right words?

  A deputy stood near the door blocking Dimas from going in.

  “I’m here to see Hunter Mullins.”

  “And you are?”

  “A friend of the family,” Dimas said, his heart beating fast. “Hunter just called me.” He repeated for emphasis. “Hunter Mullins.” Dimas was prepared to walk in, pushing past the outstretched arm, but Hunter came forward.

  “It’s okay, deputy,” another man said.

  Hunter collapsed in Dimas’s arms, sobbing. Dimas was both shocked and relieved. Shocked that Hunter rushed into his arm. Relieved that Hunter rushed into his arms. He rubbed Hunter’s back while Hunter cried. While Dimas hugged Hunter, he eyed the man who stood with his arms crossed. “Want to tell me what’s going on, deputy?”

  “They found Carl,” Hunter said his voice low.

  The deputy nodded. “We found Mr. Mullins earlier this morning. We need his stepson to identify him.”

  “But if the sheriff’s office has identified him, why do you need Hunter? Can’t you see he’s not wanting to do that?”

  “It’s just protocol, Mr. Kanashiro. Congratulations on the tournament win, by the way.”

  “Can you go with me?” Hunter asked. “Please?”

  The deputy nodded, and Dimas whispered, “Yes, I’ll go with you.”

  The deputy furrowed his brow, as if he had a question then spoke on his walkie-talkie. The deputy then beckoned them to follow him. The deputy that’d blocked the door ensured the suite door closed as they walked out, and was right behind Dimas and Hunter. They walked the hallway and waited for an empty elevator. As soon as they arrived on the ground floor, hotel security greeted them, and escorted them.

  Dimas caught the shocked looks of bystanders in the lobby. Some teenagers lifted their cameras, presumably to videotape them leaving the hotel. Hunter had his head down, and instinctively Dimas threw his arm around him, and brought him close to him. Hunter dropped all protocol and moved closer so as they walked, more intimate than they’d ever been in public. They walked this way for several yards until the investigating deputy stopped. One patrol car was parked off to the side, with another with its red and white lights on, blocking part of the road.

  They walked a few feet to where the deputy stood, past yellow caution tape and more officers. The deputy lifted the yellow caution tape and motioned for Hunter and Dimas to come closer. They walked for several more minutes until the deputy they followed held up his hand. On the ground a body lay with a white sheet covering it. It wasn’t on the fairway, or on the green, but in the tall, high grass that everyone considered rough. The deputy lifted the sheet that covered the face, and Hunter quickly turned away so he could avoid looking.

  “It’s him,” Dimas said.

  A gurney appeared, and the deputy waved them to follow him. “Mr. Kanashiro, can I ask you some questions?”

  “Here? Now?” Dimas asked. “Can we walk back to the hotel? To my suite?”

  “Yes, that’s fine,” Deputy Myers said.

  Dimas dropped his arm around Hunter and whispered. “Are you okay to walk back with me? Should I drop you off at home first?”
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  “No, I don’t want to be alone.” Hunter barely raised his voice and his voice broke. They quickly walked back to the hotel. There were more people in the lobby than before. He heard a screech of tires behind him, and a television camera van pulled in and parked in the hotel’s porte cochere.

  Hotel security walked past Hunter and Dimas and stopped the news crew from entering. Dimas, Hunter, Deputy Myers and a second deputy walked into the open elevator. After Dimas swiped his hotel key for security, and punched the elevator button, he held Hunter close. He’d already caught Deputy Myers’ judging glances during the walk to and from Carl’s body. But, at this point, he didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was the guy next to him, whose whole world was turned upside down.

  * * * *

  Dimas sat against the back of the chair in his suite. He’d been asked the same question twice and he was beginning to regret not calling a lawyer. “Let me repeat. Hunter was with me last night. He was my alibi, I was his. We didn’t leave the room. I’m sure there’s hotel video surveillance showing what time I came up to my suite, and what time Hunter arrived. Hunter was here before I was, so if Carl died in the early morning, we don’t know how or why.”

  “And these women that were invited in the suite…could they be witnesses?” Deputy Myers scribbled in his notebook.

  “I think one stayed but she had passed out. I didn’t get her name,” Dimas said. “Don’t you have the surveillance videos?”

  “We’re still in the process of obtaining them. The hotel tells me that its corporate counsel hasn’t given the green light to turn it over. It might require a subpoena or a warrant from a judge.”

  “The hotel can tell you when I swiped in. Right?”

  “It has record of swipes coming in, but not any evidence of when anyone left. Conceivably, someone could leave the room, and come back without swiping in—you could theoretically be inside the room and allow someone in with activating entry access.”