The Coil

by Gilbert, L. A.

  “He knocked them all over,” he replied sullenly.

  “That’s not a reason to hit, Jamie. We never hit.”

  Jamie didn’t answer, but his breaths came quickly, and Simon soon realized that his son was beginning to cry. He wanted desperately to comfort him, but this was a rule he truly needed to push home for Jamie. He could not have him hitting other children.

  “Did you say sorry to Tommy?”

  This time Jamie did look at his dad, and shook his head no. His mouth pulled down at the corners, and he looked absolutely miserable.

  “Do you think we should?”

  Jamie paused, thinking it through, and then nodded. “Sorry,” he said quietly.

  “It’s isn’t me you need to apologize to, is it?”

  “You told me to be good, and I was bad,” he said in a small voice.

  Unable to stop himself, he reached his hands out for Jamie, and his son—thank God—willingly went to him and allowed Simon to pick him up. He gently shushed him and rubbed soothing circles into his back. “We all make mistakes, and it’s all right, because that’s how we learn, isn’t it?”

  Jamie nodded against his shoulder, and Simon caught a brief, approving smile from Sarah. “What are you going to do next time you see Tommy?” There was a loaded pause before Jamie answered.

  “Let him play with the blocks?”

  Simon smiled. “And?”

  “And say sorry for smacking him.”

  “That’s my good boy. Perhaps we can even go to the store on the way home and pick up some gummy bears. Don’t you think it’d be nice to give Tommy some gummy bears tomorrow?”

  Jamie nodded, and when Simon went to set him down, Jamie wouldn’t allow it, refusing to let go. He was more than happy to comply, taking Jamie’s backpack when Sarah handed it to him and shifting Jamie onto his hip.

  “Thank you for calling.”

  “Of course.”

  “The other support teacher, Adam? He said that he’d get my number from you to pass onto Mr. and Mrs. Sadler. I’d like to apologize and reassure them that Jamie won’t do anything like that again.”

  “I’ll make sure to do that. I think they’ll appreciate it. Though, honestly, Simon, she seemed to understand. All the parents here are in the same boat.”

  “I’d still like to call.”

  She nodded and then once again attempted to catch Jamie’s gaze. “Tomorrow will be a much better day, Jamie.” She spoke as they headed toward an exit. To his relief, Jamie lifted his head and looked at Sarah.

  “I’ll say sorry to Tommy.”

  “Good boy. And then later I’ll be over to watch a movie with you while your dad is out.”

  Simon had almost completely forgotten. His editor, Andrew Camp—a man who was a complete and utter ass but was nonetheless very good at his job—had given him a ticket to some sort of art exhibition for tomorrow evening. Andrew had edited his previous two books, and despite a certain lack of affection on his behalf for the crude man, they had a solid professional relationship, and he couldn’t imagine working with anyone else at this point. He had a suspicion that this was Andrew’s way of trying to stir his writing muses, but hell, an evening out just sounded plain nice. Usually his instinct was to turn down any sort of social event. The only person he was happy to leave Jamie with was Sarah, and he didn’t want to abuse their friendship and ask her to sit too often. But it had been so long since he’d gone out for an evening, whether it was by himself or with someone else. He was simply eager for a night off.

  Tomorrow night, he’d be by himself, but his editor would be there with a few other authors, which would be interesting. He couldn’t say that he knew much about art, but there would be free champagne and adult conversation. He’d been looking forward to it for some time.

  “You’re still okay to sit?” he asked, turning to face Sarah, who paused by the exit.

  “Of course.” She smiled. “Tomorrow we’re going to watch The Two Towers, right?”

  Jamie nodded, and Simon was glad to see his son wasn’t looking quite so upset.

  “There’s a battle at Helm’s Deep in the second one, with lots of orcs,” Jamie piped up.

  “There certainly is. Shall I bring some popcorn?”

  “He doesn’t like the kernels.” Simon smiled, swaying Jamie gently. “But feel free to raid the cupboards for anything.” He touched her arm briefly. “Thank you, Sarah. I really appreciate you sitting.”

  She waved him off. “Think nothing of it. Now I have to get back to my class. I’ll see you tomorrow around seven.”

  He nodded and told Jamie to wave good-bye. He was happy when Jamie did, and decided that they’d go for a walk through the park before heading home.

  SITTING on the bench with Jamie beside him, he found himself content to watch as his son threw pieces of bread for the ducks. They’d had another talk about why it was bad to hit people, and Jamie had promised him that the next time he felt angry, he would tell a teacher. They’d gone to the store to pick up a few vitals, including bread to feed the ducks and gummy bears to feed Tommy, which had made Jamie giggle. Now they sat together, his hand gently stroking Jamie’s head. Jamie’s feet swung happily as he chattered quietly to the ducks.

  “That one’s called Boromir,” Jamie announced, pointing to what could be any one of five ducks.

  “All right then,” he laughed.

  “And that one’s Frodo.”

  “Is there a Samwise Gamgee?”

  “That one!”

  “I see. Do you like ducks?”

  “Yes.” Jamie nodded.

  Simon worried his lip for a moment, debating something. “How about one weekend soon, we go to the zoo?” He laughed when Jamie’s head snapped up to look right at him. It wasn’t often Jamie would show such excitement.

  “Will it have ducks?” he asked excitedly.

  “Yes, there’ll be ducks. And there’ll be all other kinds of animals too.”

  Jamie hesitated. “Will there be orcs?”

  “No, baby,” he laughed.

  “Good.” Jamie nodded.

  “There’s just one condition. If we go, you’re going to have to hold my hand the entire day. And it might get a little busy and noisy, but if that starts to make you unhappy, you just ask me to pick you up, okay? Can you do that for me?”

  Jamie nodded eagerly, and Simon felt a little less guilty about leaving him tomorrow evening. He smoothed down that little cowlick and laughed when a piece of bread meant for the ducks made its way to Jamie’s mouth instead. “Feeling hungry?”

  “Yep,” Jamie chirped.

  He’d pushed him—albeit very gently—on the swings, and helped him on the monkey bars, and then they’d fed the ducks again. It had been a long day for Jamie, and they should think about heading back soon.

  “Shall we head home?”

  “Can we go to the place with the funny music?”

  Simon frowned while he stood to gather the few bags they had. “You mean the diner?” Instantly his conversation with a rather nosy waiter and the image of baby blues and very kissable dimples returned.

  “Yes.” Jamie nodded as he struggled to put on his backpack.

  Simon placed the two carrier bags on the bench to help Jamie thread his arms through. He untwisted the strap on Jamie’s shoulder, picked up the two bags in one hand, and offered Jamie the other. “Okay then, the diner it is.”

  HE COULDN’T help but look to see if the cute guy—Mattie, apparently—was still there. Unfortunately, he seemed to have finished for the day. In his place stood a rather portly and sour-looking man with a dark complexion. Simon ignored his disappointment and walked over to the sandwich bar, where the less-than-friendly man stood, already glaring at them.

  On the way there, Jamie had already said he wanted a sandwich instead of the usual mac ’n cheese. While this surprised Simon, it also pleased him that he was getting some different foods into Jamie’s diet. The child was notoriously picky when it came to what he’d eat.
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  “Okay-dokey, up?”

  Simon set the bags down and picked Jamie up to rest against his hip while they looked into the refrigerated glass case where the different sandwich fillers sat. “What do you fancy?” he asked, bouncing Jamie on his hip a little, and thought absently that he’d miss it dreadfully when Jamie would be too big for him to hold. Jamie leaned forward, pressing a hand on the glass.

  “No touch the glass!”

  The gentleman’s gruff and accented command startled both Simon and Jamie. Simon looked at the guy, more than a little annoyed that he’d spoken so sharply to his son, and Jamie turned his face away, against his father’s shoulder.

  “Pick sandwich.”

  Simon could only blink at the completely ridiculous man. Whether this stranger did not possess an “indoor” voice, or was just naturally rude, he had no idea. He opened his mouth to tell him to keep it down—he could already hear Jamie begin to hum unhappily—but the dour-looking guy continued, picking up a sesame seed bun and slicing it in half.

  “The boy like pickle? I make pickle sandwich for him.”

  Simon sputtered and rubbed Jamie’s back soothingly. He was about to tell the guy to shove his pickle sandwich when movement at the “Employees Only” door caught his eye. He watched as the person he’d for a long time harbored a crush on strode over, dropped his backpack, and clapped a hand on the rude man’s shoulder.

  “How’s it going, Jules?”

  “I make pickle sandwich for the boy.”

  Mattie looked up and offered him an apologetic smile. Simon shifted Jamie on his hip nervously.

  “Why don’t you let me do this one before I head off? I’m sure someone needs their coffee topped up.”

  That’s when Simon noticed the casual attire. He wore jeans with a rip in the knee that fit like a glove, a plain heather gray T-shirt that hugged his sides and upper arms perfectly, and a black string necklace tight around his throat with two beads in the middle. He must have been on his way out, and though he looked casual enough, he was downright drop-your-pants-on-command gorgeous.

  “Sorry about Jules. I’m heading off early tonight so he’s covering for me. We don’t usually let him out of the kitchen.”

  Simon laughed and found himself smiling brightly. “Oh, that’s….” He waved it off. “It’s fine, honestly. Where’s he from, anyway?”

  “Really? We have no idea, but he makes a great omelet, so….” Mattie shrugged and gave Simon a crooked smile as he leaned both hands on the counter.

  “Well, um, thanks. Don’t think Jamie liked that fella too much. Did ya?” He pulled his head back to speak to his son. Jamie had stopped humming, something he tended to do before his prime numbers came out to play, but he wouldn’t look at either of them.

  “Sorry, he’s kind of shy,” Simon explained.

  “Aw, that’s okay, Jamie,” Mattie said brightly, completely friendly, and then continued in a hushed, conspiring voice. “Sometimes Jules is kind of rude, but he’s just a big teddy bear, really.”

  Simon knew no reply would be coming from his son and was about to apologize further, but Mattie interrupted him, taking the beginnings of a pickle sandwich and swiping it into a bin under the counter.

  “I know what this little guy wants,” he said as he pulled on some hygiene gloves and untwisted a bag to pull out two slices of white bread. “You want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”

  Simon looked in the glass case. “I don’t see that in there.”

  “That’s because we only keep it for our very favorite customers.” Mattie winked and pulled the jars out of a small fridge behind him. “And don’t worry; it’s the smooth kind of peanut butter. I’ve seen the little guy eat in here enough times to know he doesn’t like lumps in his food.”

  Simon blinked in surprise. He looked down and was pleased to see that Jamie—although he wouldn’t speak or look Mattie in the eye—was watching his every move as he made his sandwich.

  “And I’m guessing that you like it without crusts?” he asked as he carefully sliced off the crusts and then cut the sandwich into two perfect triangles and placed them on a plate.

  “What do you say, Jamie?” Simon asked, flabbergasted.

  “Thank you,” came the quiet response.

  “No problem, kiddo. Oh, no—” Mattie waved him off as Simon began to dig in his back pocket for his wallet. “It’s on me.”

  “A-are you sure?” Simon stuttered in surprise.

  “Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

  He watched as Mattie tugged off the gloves and pulled his backpack up onto one shoulder, walking to the part of the counter that swiveled up for staff to walk through, and felt his cheeks heat slightly when Mattie took the plate and nodded toward the booths.

  “Looks like you’ve got your hands full. Let me take this over for you.”

  Simon smiled his thanks, picked up their bags, and carried them, and Jamie, over to his usual booth, where Mr. Too-Good-To-Be-True set the plate down in front of his son.

  “Thanks, that’s real nice of you. Shame you’re heading off, otherwise I’d ask you to take a seat and join us.”

  A somewhat surprised and pleased smile spread across Mattie’s face, and he dug his hands deep into his pockets. Simon was utterly charmed.

  “That’d be real nice, but, uh, I gotta take off. Maybe another time?”

  “Yeah, sure. I’m Simon, by the way.” He held his hand out and Mattie took it, shaking it once but holding on a second longer than was necessary.

  “I’m Mattie, Mattie Green.”

  “It’s really nice to meet you, Mattie.”

  “Yeah.” Mattie practically beamed. “Yeah, you too. I’ll um… I’ll see you around, then.” Mattie ducked his head but kept his distance from Jamie. “Bye, Jamie, enjoy the chow.”

  To Simon’s utter surprise, though Jamie didn’t look away from his plate, he said good-bye around a mouthful of peanut butter and jelly. He smiled at Mattie, thinking how unaware he must be of how very special an individual he was to even garner a response from his boy, and then watched him walk out of the diner with another quick wave over one shoulder.

  “Nice man.”

  Simon’s head snapped back to Jamie. “What was that?” he asked, pleased with his son’s uninvited comment, but no response came, and he leaned back against the booth as he watched his son wolf down his specially made sandwich.

  MATTIE damn near floated as he approached the apartment block, his brief conversation with who he now knew to be Simon and Jamie replaying in his head. Ty would be so damn smug when he told him about it tomorrow.

  Stopping outside the building and looking at the familiar buzzer, he stored away the pleasant memory, shrugged into what he hoped was an impassive persona, and buzzed. A voice crackled over the speaker.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s Justin,” Mattie replied. He never gave a john his real name.

  No response came, but he was buzzed in. He took the stairs slowly, just wishing the evening was over with, and knocked on the door. The door opened, and one of his regulars stood there, moving aside to let him in without a greeting. The apartment was nice. Nicer than his place, anyway, but that wasn’t saying much. The kitchen had black polished counters and every kind of appliance imaginable. The bathroom had a large bath with jets and a shower stall. The living room boasted the largest flat screen TV he’d ever seen, and a leather couch and chairs. He’d only ever seen all this in passing, however, and walked straight on into the one room he was familiar with. The bedroom.

  He sat on the edge of the king-sized bed, dumping his backpack and leaning back on his hands as he waited. He could hear the guy tinkering about in the kitchen with something and sighed with boredom.

  Come on, already.

  He just wanted to blow the guy, get his ticket, and get out. He looked at the door when a shadow fell across the bed, and raised an eyebrow in question. The guy was six four, six five, maybe. He was heavyset, with dark hair that was receding,
and had pockmarks on his cheeks. Not his type at all, but he certainly paid well. Fifty dollars for a hand job and sixty dollars for a blowjob. What he didn’t like was his smarmy attitude, like he was used to being in charge. He thought he’d heard him on the phone once talking about a publisher or something, and figured he must be some sort of journalist. He’d snuck a glance at his mail once on the kitchen table, and at least knew his real name.

  Andrew Camp already had his pants undone and was stroking his unimpressive erection as he walked over to where Mattie sat on the bed.

  “Got something for you.” He smirked.

  Lucky me.

  “Open those lips for daddy. I want you to hold still while I fuck that pretty face.”

  “Rubber,” was Mattie’s only reply.

  Mattie watched dispassionately as Andrew rolled on the rubber, and spread his knees for the larger man to stand between them, his cock now in direct line with his mouth. He closed his eyes, but was ordered to open them and watch as Andrew held the base of his cock and then, none too gently, tapped it against Jamie’s face.

  “Dirty cocksucker.”

  Mattie’s fingers gripped the bedspread tight, willing his mind to wander away as he felt the fat head of the short, stubby penis rub over his lips, the scent of latex assaulting him.

  “Open up. Come on, take it.”

  Mattie opened his mouth and forced himself to look as if he was enjoying the feel of the asshole’s cock roughly thrusting in and brushing the back of his throat, or at the very least, he attempted to appear as if he didn’t hate it. He much preferred it when they’d just lie down with their head back and eyes closed to let him get on with it, but not this guy.

  “Oh fuck, yesss,” he hissed, gripping the back of Mattie’s head and slamming in forcefully two, three more times before spurting his load into the rubber.

  Mattie pulled away as quickly as he was able, taking a deep breath and inching away when Andrew made to stroke his hand through his now messed up hair. Andrew took the hint. Oddly enough, once he’d blown his load, he was less of an asshole and almost polite.

  “Money’s on the kitchen counter. Help yourself to a drink before you leave if you like.”