“What? Mikey? He’s thirteen years old.”
“I had a crush on my hockey coach at that age.”
“Oh good Lord. I don’t want to think about that.”
“Me and my hockey coach? He was hot, probably in his midtwenties at the time, but I thought he was like forty.”
“You have a thing for older men?” I asked.
“Please,” Dillon said dismissively.
“Good, because I’m a little younger than you, in case you don’t remember.”
“But older in spirit.” He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.
I considered Mikey’s affection toward me. “No, I think Mikey sees me as a father figure. He’s got no positive male role models, plus being gay at his age…I don’t want him to have a crush on me. Gross.”
“Did he finally come out to you?” Dillon removed his bottled water from the side panel.
“Well…sort of.”
“Oh?”
We’d intuited Mikey’s sexuality, despite him never flat-out telling us. I glanced his way. “He’s got a thing for Tony Christmas.”
“Tony Christmas! The kid who stole our wallets?”
“I think it’s a bit of a bad-boy complex.”
“Is Tony…? Well, you know…gay?” Dillon guzzled his water.
“No, I don’t think so.” I requested a sip with an extended hand. “It’s a little worse than that.”
“Oh, boy. I don’t know why we’re getting into this. This whole situation just doesn’t feel right. What do you mean worse?”
I swallowed the water. “Well, you remember last night how you were talking to Jesús about straight men getting a helping hand from—”
“Oh, God. Did I say that?”
I laughed. “Yes, you wanted to take him home—”
“Oh my God! The Dominican Uber driver. It’s all coming back to me. Please forgive me.”
“Don’t worry. I have. But I think Tony might use Mikey…in similar ways. It’s just a hunch. He hasn’t told me.”
“How old is Tony?”
“Fifteen…sixteen. He’s still in high school.”
“At that age I was just whacking off between periods.”
“Dill, please. We don’t need the details.” I didn’t want to tell Dillon what I’d been doing at that age. “Mikey reminds me of myself, when I was young.”
“He’s really opened up to you.”
“I feel bad for him. He’s picked on in school. His mother’s an addict.” I changed lanes and passed a Volkswagen. “Dina is hooked on fentanyl. Poor Mikey has no decent role models. Despite it all, he’s a good kid.”
“And all last night, I thought you and Javier were texting each other. Fawning about how much you missed one another.”
“What? No! I mean, Jav and I text but not like that. And certainly not last night.”
The car speakers rang loudly with an incoming call, and we both jumped.
“Jesus!” Dillon yelled. “Turn that thing down.”
“It’s Mikey.” I hit the Answer button on the steering wheel. Before I could speak, a woman yelled in the background. “Mikey? Are you okay?” I asked.
“Evan,” Mikey said, “they’re taking my mom.” He sobbed.
“Who is?” Dillon asked.
“The police…Officer Christmas.”
Chapter 58
Dillon
When Evan and I arrived at the Settlement Police Department, Mikey ran out the front door and into the parking lot. He hugged Evan at the waist.
“Hey, buddy.” Evan patted his head. “It’s been a long time.”
“You got a new truck?” Mikey pulled away. “I didn’t recognize you ’til you got out.”
“You’ve been waiting long?”
“No.” Mikey came over to me. “Hi, Dillon.” He waved cautiously.
“What? I don’t get a hug?” I bent down and scooped him up, and he laughed in my arms.
Inside the station, Officer Elayn Christmas busied herself in conversation with her back to us. I recognized her blonde hair, despite it being up in a bun. Plus her petite hourglass figure gave her away.
“Excuse me,” I said.
She turned. Her mouth opened.
“Surprise.” I held out my hands and walked toward her.
“Dill…Dillon Deiss,” she said as the man she’d been talking to departed.
“I’m impressed.” I waltzed closer. “You remember. Well, you ought to know my name, since you had my wallet—”
Her eyes narrowed. “Let’s pop in here for a minute.” She motioned to a nearby office with a glass window. We left Evan and Mikey reacquainting in the lobby, and she closed the door. “What are you doing here?”
“Coming to rescue Mikey.” I pulled out a chair, strikingly similar to the ones I’d teetered on back in high school.
She wrinkled her brow and joined me at the table. “Proceed.”
“I’d like to pay Dina Westmore’s bail.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“Why?” I rocked back as if in eleventh-grade biology.
“She’s scum.”
“Ouch.” I lowered the chair’s front. “That’s not a nice way to talk about another human being.”
“Besides, nothing will be set until the bailiff arrives in the morning.”
“What did Dina do?”
“What do you care?” She smirked. “You know I can’t disclose info—”
“I care about the kid, and so does my husband.”
She folded her arms across her chest. She wore a tight navy long-sleeve. Her brass badge shined under the fluorescent.
“Besides”—I rocked again—“I know your kid stole our wallets and you pegged it on Mikey Westmore.” I wanted to make it clear that I knew she covered her son’s tracks.
“What do you want?” She leaned in.
“I know your son’s a thief and probably a few other things that you might not even know about.” I held my trump card of the alleged—leaving it for Evan to find out the truth—sexual encounters between Mikey and Tony. I pointed to her badge. “I could have that shiny little medal stripped from—”
“Oh, you could, huh?” Her hands slapped the table, and her mouth became an angry slit. She bounced up, and a piece of paper swayed down to the floor.
“Mikey is innocent. It’s not fair that he and his mother are blamed for things to cover up your good-for-nothing son’s shit! What did he do this time?”
With her back to me, she lowered her head. “All right.” She spun around and wiped her nose quickly with the back of her hand. “Look.” She sat. “Dina Westmore is not the best influence…for Mikey…for anyone.”
“I’ve seen the track marks on her arms. I know. But what did she do this time?”
She sighed, hand to mouth. “Do you know how hard it is to raise a child?”
“I do,” I lied, though Deet somewhat qualified in my humble opinion.
Her eyebrow cocked. “You do?” Her shoulders relaxed. “Look, I’m a single mother. I’m the only woman on the force. It’s tough. I fight off sexual advances nearly every day in order to hold my job, pay the bills, and keep a roof over our heads.”
I crossed my arms and put my feet up on the table, feeling all CrimeLine-like.
She looked at them—Neiman’s penny loafers, which cost me a few Benjamins. “Let’s not push it.” She jutted her chin toward my shoes.
I lowered them. “Look, I know it’s tough, but blaming other people for—”
“Dina Westmore is not the most innocent of people in this town.”
“I know. You’ve said that.”
“My kid got into her stash again, last night. She shouldn’t have it.”
“Stash of what?”
“Pot.”
I stared and silence fell between us.
“Look, I’ll let her go. It wasn’t much marijuana. But she can’t be…” Her lower lip trembled. “She can’t be fucking up my kid’s future.” She sniffed. �
�He’s a smart boy, my Tony. He gets all A’s and B’s in school. I want more for him. I want him to go to college and be something…not fall into the opioid trap that plagues this town.”
I rose and spread my hands into pyramids on the table. “Dina’s not the reason your kid steals or does drugs.”
“I know! I know. Just go.”
Dina’s apartment reeked of garbage and cigarettes. As soon as Mikey shut the door behind us, she disappeared into the kitchen. The stench, and his mother’s awkward demeanor, had us wanting out of there quickly. On the drive over, she’d barely spoken.
Evan held a knuckle to his nose, breathing into his hand. “Well, while your mother is getting situated”—the clinking of ice in a glass rang out from the galley—“why don’t we go get a bite to eat?”
Mikey’s eyes lit up. He looked thinner since our last visit. “Mom, I’m going out for a bit! I’ll be back soon.”
“Okay,” she muttered.
Gratefully out of the apartment, we trudged down the stairs to the first floor, then welcomed the clean air outside.
“It’s complicated,” Mikey said to Evan as we walked across the parking lot heading for the Italian café we’d previously frequented. Evan had asked him about Tony.
“A lot of relationships are complicated.” Evan looked at me as if commiserating with Mikey’s problems.
Behind the kid, I threw my palms up. “Me? Us?” I mouthed.
Evan rolled his eyes. “Look, Mikey, you can be open with us. We’re not going to get you in trouble or tell your mother.”
Mikey turned around to look at me.
“I’ll leave,” I said, “if you guys want to chat in private.”
“No,” Mikey said, “it’s just that…I’ve never told anyone, except for…for Tony.”
We stood in a circle in the middle of a dirt road. A Closed sign hung from the general store’s window. We stood in a circle as he confided in us about his sexuality.
Mikey’s eyes lobbed between Evan and me. “I like him. I like Tony Christmas.” He huffed. “There, I said it.”
Evan caught my gaze. “How old is Tony?”
“He’ll be sixteen in a few weeks,” Mikey said.
“And you are…?” I asked.
“Thirteen. But a mature thirteen,” he said, rushing the later part.
Evan sighed. “You know, when I was around your age, I had a crush on a boy who was older.”
“You did?” I asked.
Evan waved me off. “He was a bit of a bad boy, if you know what I mean. He drove a motorcycle, stole beer from his parents’ refrigerator, and would share it with his buddies and get them drunk.”
“Were you one of his buddies?” I cocked my head.
“This story’s for the kid, not you.” Evan threw me dagger eyes.
“Your first boyfriend was a bad boy?” I asked.
“Dillon! This isn’t about you.”
Mikey laughed. “You guys crack me up.”
“Well”—Evan’s seriousness never faded—“sometimes, in those situations, we do things we might not otherwise do with a clear head, especially if you like the boy.”
Mikey looked down. “I’m getting hungry.”
Evan touched his shoulder. “Mikey? Has Tony done things to you against your will?”
Mikey pulled at the hem of his dirty sweatshirt. “Not exactly.”
“Are you sure?” I asked. “He didn’t hurt you. Did he?”
“Well….” He scratched his head.
“Oh, God.” Evan paced, hands on hips.
“He didn’t rape me, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Evan stopped and stared. “So it was consensual?”
Mikey grimaced. “Huh?”
“You both wanted it?” I added.
Mikey nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Can we go eat?”
Elayn opened the front door to her home, a cute cottage on the corner of Main and Thorndike, not far from the Walmart where I left Evan and Mikey shopping after lunch.
“And to what do I owe the pleasure?” She wore her hair down, a pair of jeans, and a red sweater.
“Can I come in?” I asked.
She studied me for a time, then stepped aside. “Where’s your other half?” She led me down a hallway with an Oriental runner.
“He’s buying Mikey some clothes, and groceries for Dina.”
“How kind.” She stepped into a small kitchen. The smell of a roast reached me and, on the counter, a crockpot sweated against its glass cover. “Mikey told you where we live?”
“I can’t reveal my sources.”
“You should be a cop.” Elayn extended a hand toward the kitchen table.
I sat.
“Coffee? I made a fresh pot.”
“Can’t pass up a good cup.”
She reached for mugs—on tiptoes even though they were on the bottom shelf—and poured us some brew. “Cream and sugar?”
“Black.”
She joined me at the table. “So….”
My cup was hot and scorched my grip. “So.”
“You probably want to know what happened with Dina.” She sipped from her cup. Apparently, cop hands weren’t as delicate as mine.
“It’s a good place to start.”
“Last night, he came home high. Tony…that is….” She crossed her legs and placed the cup gingerly on her knee. “He’s a good kid, despite what you might think of him.”
“Is that why he stole our wallets? Because he’s a good kid?”
“Look, Dillon, if you came here to insult me or my son, you know the way out.”
I put my hands up, wrists still on the table. “At ease. Let me rephrase. Did he steal our wallets for drug money?”
Elayn’s leg jostled, and she returned her mug to the table. “I pray he’s not hooked. He does well in school, except that C in Math last year. I want him to go to college and be something. Get out of this town before falling to fentanyl or ether.”
“Ether?” My coffee had cooled some, and I slurped it. When a door behind me flung open, I burned my upper lip. I turned.
Tony stood by the refrigerator. His mess of brown hair stuck out from the edges of a Mountain Dew baseball cap, and he stared at me with his mouth slacked.
“Remember me?” I held my mug firmly.
He made for the fridge, and in it, with his back at me, said, “I remember.” He took out an energy drink, and the door closed. He cracked the can’s lid. “What do you want?”
“Manners, Tony,” Elayn said.
“Just a friendly hello.” I smiled so hard, my cheeks hurt.
He took a cookie from a plate beside the coffeepot—not that I’d been offered one—and trudged up the stairs. “Faggot,” he muttered.
“Tony!” Elayn looked over. “He’s not typically—”
I rose—placing my hands onto the table in a surprisingly similar fashion to how I did at the police station—fingers spread gingerly over the oak. “May I?”
“Um.” She clutched at the lapels of her sweater. “Sure.”
I took a cookie. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Oh, no. Have two.”
“I’m watching my weight.” I proceeded up the stairs where Tony had gone. “Chocolate chip, my favorite.” By the time I got to his room—the one with the closed door and the Keep-out sign—I’d eaten the cookie. I licked crumbs from my fingertips and knocked.
“I’m not apologizing!” he yelled.
I let myself in. “I’m not asking you to.”
“Jesus!” He sat upright on his bed and yanked a set of headphones to his neckline.
I shut the door.
“Mom—!”
“Don’t go crying to Mommy. She can’t always help you.”
“For the record, I didn’t trip you on the ice.”
I chuckled. “No, I did that all on my own. Clumsy.” I pulled his chair out from his desk, spun it around, and sat with my arms over the back. “But you did steal our wallets.”
“What do you care? You got them back…money and all.”
“Did you pay your mother back?”
“Who the fuck are you to—”
“Keep your mouth shut…faggot.” Despite that last word not being in my regular vocabulary, I couldn’t resist.
“Me?” He tapped his cell to his chest. “I’m no—”
“What did you do with Mikey Westmore?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” His response was overly defensive.
I tapped my feet.
“Is everything all right up there?” Elayn yelled.
“We’re fine!” I pointed to Tony to repeat.
“Fine!” he said toward the door.
I rose. “We’re just talking man-to-man!”
He stared at me for a few seconds. “What do you care about Mikey? He’s just a little cocksucker, like you.”
“Man, you are a live one.” I shook my head.
“Get out of my room.” He returned his headset to his ears and fiddled with his phone.
I reached across the bed, ripped the earphones off, and his cell flew. “What did you make Mikey do?”
“We did nothing!” Tony hand-crawled backward.
I took him by the scuff of his shirt, flung him facedown on the mattress, and wrenched his arm behind his back.
“Tony? Dillon?” Elayn said.
“We’re good.” I leaned into him. “Tell her you’re fine,” I whispered.
“We’re fine, Mom.” He pulled away, grabbed a pillow, and placed it between us.
I retreated to my chair.
“Okay,” he said, “I know he likes me.”
“Are you trying to break his heart?”
He grimaced. “No. I do it because…because of his mom.”
“What about her?”
“She gets me stuff.”
“Drugs?”
He shrugged. “And booze…and weed.”
“Your mother wants you to go to college. You can’t…look, if you want to fuck up your life…your reputation….”
“My reputation?”
“As a cocksucker.” Two could play at this game.
He threw the pillow aside. “I’m not a cocksucker.”
“You let Mikey do it to you. Didn’t you?”
He stared out the window. “He wanted it.”
“He’s thirteen! Do you know the trouble you could get in?” I dodged the mutual-consent-between-minors legality and replaced it with an aspersion of guilt.
Building Us: A Gay Romantic Comedy and Adventure (Marketing Beef Gay Romance Book 2) Page 23
