by Mike Monson
The older of the two, Clyde Pike, was sixty. He was Paul’s first and longest-term stepfather. The younger resident, Scott Love, was just fifty, and when his dead father, Billy Joe, was married to Mavis, he was Paul’s stepbrother. But now that the two of them had gotten married in Vermont, he wasn’t sure what to call Scott. Either way, he loved that someone he once thought of as a step-brother was now married to someone who was once his stepfather.
One thing he did know for sure: Scott Love and Clyde Pike were the two best people he knew and he adored them both without limits.
Paul and Bethany were born in Nacogdoches, a piney woods East Texas town located just past halfway between Houston and Shreveport, Louisiana. Both Mavis and their father, Jason Dunn, were born there and met in high school in the 1970s, and, in the early days of their marriage, neither could ever imagine living anywhere else, or with anyone else. With Bethany and Paul, they attended the same Baptist church they’d grown up in; Jason was a deacon and Mavis taught Sunday school to junior high school girls and helped out in the nursery during the sermons.
Jason worked on offshore oilrigs in the Gulf of Mexico. He was gone for months at a time. He was killed when Paul was five and Bethany seven. For years, Paul believed Mavis’ story that his father died in an accident at work. His mother described how he’d heroically climbed to the top of one of the rigs way out in the water to help rescue a co-worker who’d been trapped by fire after an explosion. As Mavis told it, the friend was saved, but Jason had been blown out into the sea and drowned after a second explosion occurred. But, in the summer after high school, Paul traveled back to visit his maternal grandmother and found out the truth that his father had been beaten to death in a New Orleans hotel room by the husband of his mistress. This news thrilled Paul, and he told Bethany as soon as he returned to Modesto. Bethany, who’d turned her father into a near fundamentalist saint in her memory, didn’t handle the news very well.
Though she still dropped Bethany and Paul off for Sunday school, Mavis stopped attending church after Jason’s death. She took up smoking and drinking for the first time in her life and began responding to the constant advances from men she’d gotten since she’d first blossomed in seventh grade. She found a job as a secretary to a prominent local attorney, and began to travel in his social circle, though she also frequented local honky tonks and dive bars and learned to love smoking weed while dating a student from local Stephen F. Austin University. After two years as a widower, she found herself broke and in debt despite her salary. She told her boss that she’d tell his wife about their sexual relationship if he didn’t give her ten thousand dollars. Instead, he offered her a thousand dollars cash and a month’s vacation in Cabo San Lucas, a trip that cost him next to nothing since a local travel agent who owed him substantial legal fees took care of all the arrangements.
While shopping in Cabo, she met another American, Clyde Pike. She was impressed with Clyde’s expensive and tasteful clothes, his sophistication and education, and his knowledge of wine, food, and fine art. She also loved that he was from California—a place she’d wanted to relocate to for several years. Clyde, who was still trying to mask his homosexuality, found Mavis fascinating and was taken by her beauty and flamboyant style in clothes and behavior.
Clyde owned an art gallery and frame shop Modesto, and also had a thriving business as an interior designer for some of the up and coming homeowners in the growing town. After a wedding in Las Vegas, Mavis had no problem gathering up Paul and Bethany and relocating to the California Central Valley. At first, it was a shock to learn that Modesto, located in the flatlands ninety miles east of San Francisco and ninety miles west of Yosemite, was just another small town, not unlike so many in Texas. It was surrounded by ranches and vineyards and dairy farms and orchards and was not the land of beaches and surfers, movie stars and Beverly Hills mansions that she expected. There were even rednecks, rodeos, oil wells, and county fairs—again, just like Texas. But she got used to it quickly and enjoyed the chance to remake herself in a new place where no one knew who she was or used to be. Plus, San Francisco and all its great beauty and wonderful shopping was less than two hours away, and Clyde let her go off to LA whenever she wanted.
Paul took to Clyde right away and had no problem calling him Daddy. Bethany didn’t like him and never seemed to forgive her mother for marrying him and taking her away from her friends in Nacogdoches. She continued to go to church in Modesto even though Paul stopped and she was now the only person in her family attending and the only one who still believed. Clyde, the child of atheist teachers at Modesto Junior College, had never attended church. Later, when he came out and made his relationship with Scott Love public, Bethany told her church friends, “I always knew there was something evil behind that smile and those nice suits.”
At first, Mavis and Clyde tried to have a normal marriage, but as his homosexuality and her constant need for male attention became apparent, the two developed a tense agreement—as long as each was discreet, they were free to engage in relationships outside of the marriage. But, when Mavis met the very wealthy local dairy farmer and cheese manufacturer Bobby Joe Love after both Bethany and Paul had grown up and left the home, the arrangement, and the marriage, ended.
Clyde and Mavis remained relatively close (he never lost his basic fascination with her; he later told Scott: “The truth is, I didn’t want to marry Mavis, I wanted to be her”), and when Bobby Joe died eight years later, he attended the funeral in support of his ex-wife. Bobby Joe’s son, Scott, who had lived in Hollywood for years, also attended the service. For Clyde and Scott, it was love at first sight.
TWENTY-FIVE
When Paul got back out to McHenry, he walked north until he got to Bangs Road, where he turned left. He made sure to hide in the trees if he heard a car coming. After about a half mile, he could see the driveway leading into Clyde and Scott’s property. He went back into the orchard and sat down, leaning his back against an almond tree. He found the card that Detective Fagan had given him and dialed the number.
It rang for a very long time. Paul was about to give up when Fagan finally answered. He heard a “what?” then banging. He could hear laughter and it sounded like Mavis. Figures.
“Detective Fagan here.”
“This is Paul Dunn.”
“Where are you? We need to talk again.”
“I didn’t do it, you know, right? At least I thought you knew it.”
“Right, but, still, you need to let me bring you in, clear a couple things up.”
“I saw the newspaper. Online.”
Fagan didn’t say anything for a moment.
“So?”
“There’s an update saying I’m the prime suspect. It has that low-life Jorge Rincon talking all about my motives, the insurance, and the pension and my debt and all that.”
“What?”
“That’s right.”
“I didn’t tell Rincon any of that shit. What the fuck?”
“Exactly.”
“Well, then you know why we need to talk to you.”
“I’m pretty sure Miranda and Logan Swift planted that gun and called you guys. Do you know my niece, Miranda Fish?”
“I just met her, as a matter of fact.”
“You know her boyfriend is Logan Swift, right? I was hoping you could figure that out on your own. You aren’t much of a detective, are you Fagan? I imagine real investigating involves more than smacking people around.”
“Look, man, I’m on your side, really. We need to figure this thing out so we know the truth, okay?”
“Will you let me help you?”
“Of course.”
“’Cause you need all the help you can get.”
“Look, I’m sorry about earlier, I thought I explained all that.”
“I guess you know I got beat up today?”
“You what?”
“I got the shit kicked out of me by three men from my bother-in-law Pete Fish’s Church. He’s some kind of minist
er now in addition to being a failed real estate mogul.”
“Shit. Where was this?”
“Out behind Mr. Tokyo’s. You know that donut shop on Sylvan and Oakdale?”
“Yeah, I know the place.”
“My mom and Miranda didn’t tell you?”
“Not a word.”
“I got into an argument with the church boys about Prop 8, and they fucking beat me. I want them arrested.”
“Like I said, let me come get you, and you can make a statement.”
“I just made my statement.”
“Where’s the shotgun, Dunn?”
“Oh, that’s the main reason I called. Logan Swift is sitting in his pickup in an almond orchard just off of McHenry between Kiernan and Bangs. He’s passed out on heroin and he has the shotgun.”
“Logan Swift, huh?”
“Yes, and he has this big bag of the shit, I don’t know how much it’s all worth but it’s got to be a lot, it’s like fifteen big bricks of the stuff. Interesting, don’t you think?”
“I do, actually.”
“Before I walked away I made a video of him in the truck with the bag of heroin. I’m going to send it to you. Plus, when he ambushed me out off of Carver Road, he just happened to have two shells in his pocket that fit into the shotgun. He knew how to use it too.”
“What? He ambushed you?”
“That’s right, Miranda sent him.”
“She sent him?”
“Yeah, he’s like her knight, her slave, her little puppy dog. He’ll do anything for her. Anything.”
“I see.”
“So someone better go find Logan, I’m not sure if he OD’d or not. Are you going to send someone?”
“Yeah, yeah, but where are you, exactly? Are you still with Logan?”
Paul wanted to tell him where he was—he thought he might be safer in custody. But he needed a little more time first. He wanted the police to find Logan and he needed to talk to Clyde and Scott.
“I gotta go, Detective, I’ll call you later. We’ll talk again very soon, I promise.”
“Dunn!”
Paul hung up. He had a hard time standing because his back had stiffened up, again. He used the tree branches for support. He forwarded the video of Logan to Fagan’s cell and walked up Clyde and Scott’s driveway.
TWENTY-SIX
Miranda pointed her iPhone into her grandmother’s room. It captured a naked Fagan as he put down his phone, turned back to a giggling Mavis. The door was open a crack—enough room for her to film the two fucking. It wasn’t the first time she’d watched Mavis with a man, but she was it was the first time she’d seen her do it with a cop.
She’d also taken pictures and video of the two of them out on the porch. She had footage of Fagan drinking vodka while he played with Mavis’ tits. She’d also captured him unzipping his pants and trying to get Mavis to get on top of him to do it right there on the porch. Dude was horny.
But Mavis managed to get him to go into the bedroom. Miranda was impressed that there were some things even her grandmother wouldn’t do. Maybe she just wasn’t into the whole sex-in-public thing.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Fagan couldn’t get enough of Mavis Love. He was forty-eight years old, six-foot-five, and he weighed 310 pounds. His gut was huge, he had dangerously high blood pressure and was most likely going to get adult onset diabetes and/or have a stroke if he didn’t watch his diet and lose about a hundred pounds. Fagan never did anything his doctor told him to do, but he’d been dismayed for several years at his inability reach and maintain a good stiff erection—something that, according to his doctor, was because of his diet, his blood pressure, his obesity, his age, and his habit of drinking about two pints of hard alcohol every day.
But with Mavis, that problem was gone. When he’d first saw her that morning in her doorway in the silk robe, he felt his erection push up against his pants. This shocked him, nothing like that had happened since he was a teenager. Nowadays, he had to look at porn and stroke his cock to get hard enough to orgasm, and even then he really needed to concentrate. He hadn’t been with a woman in about three years because he was tired of trying to explain away his impotence and deal with the sympathetic words and pitying attitudes of his disappointed dates.
Every time he saw Mavis that day and she looked at him so boldly and smiled that sexy smile, he was hard as a piece of steel beam, and his mouth went dry. Out on the porch, after she’d told him the story of her and Paul’s life, he knew he needed to take notes, follow up on the information to apprehend him. He was fairly certain Paul had gone to Clyde Pike’s house, or that it was at least the most likely place to start looking, and all he needed was to get the address from Mavis. But all he could do or think about was getting inside that woman’s goddamn pussy and fuck and fuck and fuck. When she had to talk him into waiting until they went inside to her bed, he was surprised that he’d forgotten that they were outside.
After Paul’d called him they went at it again—another shocker. His phone rang a couple of times but he ignored it—screw police work, this shit was important.
When he was spent, he checked his messages. The first one said that Paul Dunn’s Honda had been found in the parking lot of a church on Carver. It was crookedly parked and the driver’s side door was open. The keys were in the ignition. Clearly the owner had parked and left in a hurry, possibly under duress. They’d even managed to open the trunk but didn’t find a shotgun anywhere. They did find a black garbage bag that was sent to the lab. This all matched Paul’s story.
The next call was from the Assistant DA, who wanted to know what he’d found out at the Love house and if he was any closer to locating and arresting Mr. Dunn.
Shit.
The ADA also said he’d learned that Jorge Rincon had a history of minor drug-related offenses and was suspected to be a minor player in the local heroin trade. In fact, the DEA out of Fresno had been investigating him off and on for the last year. Plus, he’d done time in Folsom for multiple assaults and had been arrested for murder before getting released due to lack of evidence after witnesses changed their stories. The DEA said they’d recently started a file on Mark Pisko and Tina Dunn as well, and they were very interested in that morning’s murder. Two agents were on their way.
He checked his texts and opened the one from Paul. He watched the video, then called the station and had two units go to the spot in the orchards Dunn had described.
“Tell them I’ll be right there,” he said. “And get me ADA Adams ASAP.”
He caught Adams up on everything he’d learned at the Love house and on what Paul had told him.
He watched Mavis put on that sexy robe again while he worked the phone. She walked out the door and came back with a bong. She smiled, sat down on the bed beside him, and handed him a little plastic pink disposable lighter.
“Light me up?” she said.
“Sweetheart, I’d surely love to join you,” he said. “But I really must be going.” He found his underwear and his pants and put them on while Mavis watched.
“That spot in the orchard you just described?” Mavis said.
“Where Logan Swift is located?”
“That’s awfully close to Clyde Pike and Scott Love’s place, out on Bangs.”
“Really? That’s interesting.”
Fagan was nearly dressed now. He just needed to tie his tie and put on his shoes.
“What’s the address?”
Mavis stood up to help him with his tie.
“I’ll tell you on two conditions,” she said.
Fagan smiled, “Yes?”
“First, that you make sure Paul is protected and that he’s treated fairly.”
Fagan kissed Mavis’ neck and caressed her nipples with both hands.
“Okay, that’s no problem. I like the guy. And I got a pretty good idea of what’s really going on. ”
“And second,” she said. “Be sure and come back here to this bed tonight.”
Again, Fag
an grew hard.
“That’s another promise I’ll be sure to keep, darling.”
Miranda left the doorway and went down the hall to her room. She listened as Fagan walked out of the house. She went to her window and watched him pull away. She pulled the detective’s card out of her pocket and stared at the cell number. Then, she called Logan.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Mavis Love adored cocks. Actually, she loved cocks. Mavis Love loved cocks. Always had. She encountered her first cock at age twelve, in church, back in Nacogdoches. She and Layton Culpepper, who was 13, and very cute with long blonde hair, happened to find themselves alone together in a Sunday School classroom while everyone else was attending the church service. He pushed her against the wall and held her there by her shoulders. He kissed her, tongue and everything. Mavis did not protest.
“Look at this,” Clayton said. He unbuttoned, unzipped and pulled his pants down to his knees. He motioned for her to look at the front of his boxer shorts. A very large penis was sticking out of the slit. To Mavis, it appeared to vibrate and writhe. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
“Do you want to touch it?” he said. She put her right hand on it and squeezed tight. Clayton moaned. She liked that. Then they heard the sound of someone opening the door and quickly separated. Clayton pulled his pants back up.
It was all over so quickly.
Clayton and Mavis were never alone together again. Every time she saw him she tried to catch his eye but he wouldn’t look her way. She felt vaguely ashamed of what had happened, but, still, she couldn’t stop thinking about that hard cock.
When she and Jason got together in high school she shocked him by reaching for his penis on their third date, while they were making out in his dad’s car. She loved his cock too and when they got married, she felt like it was his cock she was wedding, that she vowed to have and to hold.
