Bonfires

by Amy Lane

  “Oh,” Larx muttered, reaching out and grabbing the end table to steady himself. “Oh. Okay. Muffins. Coffee. Sheriffs. Aaron?”

  “Right here,” Aaron said, popping out of bed per usual. “Here, let me brush my teeth.”

  Larx giggled. “There’s another man in my bedroom.”

  Aaron met Christi’s amused look. “Not so good with mornings, is he?”

  “You see him after two miles. Probably the only reason he remembers your name.”

  “That is not true,” Larx said, sounding indignant. “I remember his name ’cause he’s cute!”

  Aaron burst out laughing as Christi complained, “Aw, Dad, really?”

  “Christi?” Aaron asked, and she rolled her eyes and left, closing the door behind her.

  Larx was still standing by the end table, looking dazed, and Aaron walked into his space, cupped his arms through his T-shirt, and rubbed.

  “You awake yet?” he asked gently.

  “Yeah. Sure. Let me get us sweatshirts. We need to turn on the heater. Do you want socks?”

  Aaron kissed him gently and pulled back, waiting to see if his synapses would fire.

  Larx just looked at him limpidly, lost as a child. “This is so much not fair,” he said after a moment.

  “Coffee, Larx. Then let’s fix the world.”

  Larx smiled faintly and pulled away to rifle through his drawers. When they went padding downstairs, they were wearing sweatshirts and thick socks, and Aaron felt like Larx had done his best to protect them both from the day to come.

  Flare

  USUALLY COFFEE made everything better, but not so much this morning.

  “You’re letting her go?” Larx asked for the umpteenth time. “She was covered in blood.”

  “Well, yes, she was,” Eamon acknowledged, nursing his own coffee. He looked exhausted, purple pouches under his red-rimmed eyes showing he hadn’t been to bed yet. “And that might even make her an accessory. But the boy told George last night and me this morning—his attacker was wearing black, and it may have been a female, but it most definitely wasn’t Miss Olson.”

  “It makes sense, Larx,” Aaron said quietly. “She was covered in blood because she knows the attacker—but she was wearing white, and her hair was up and heavily sprayed in one of those fake-bun things. Isaiah would have known her.”

  “But… you can’t compel her to testify?”

  “She’s a minor,” Eamon said. “And yes, we could send her to juvenile hall on a count of withholding evidence, but that wouldn’t get her to talk, would it?”

  “Her mother would be up your asses with a Brillo Pad,” Larx said dispiritedly. “And her lawyer could argue there’s a thousand ways she could have gotten that blood on her that would have nothing to do with knowing the assailant. But….” He shook his head. “So that’s it? She just shows up at school on Monday? No harm, no foul?”

  Christi had made their coffee—and their hot chocolate—and she had lingered nearby, eavesdropping shamelessly.

  Her evil chuckle actually made Larx’s coffee congeal in his belly.

  “Oh, Daddy. Do you think anyone is going to talk to her now? I mean….” Her sneer was a thing of cold beauty, and Larx didn’t like seeing that expression on his baby. “She’s a ghost. Isaiah is a hero—she’s the bitch who betrayed him.”

  Larx looked at his daughter helplessly. “Christi, that sounds really… poetic, in a terrifying way, but ugly begets ugly, honey. I don’t think—”

  “It won’t work anyway,” Eamon said, voice grim. “The first thing her mother did was demand an HIV test on Isaiah’s blood. The second thing she did was demand an emergency board meeting tomorrow night. I don’t know if you’ve checked your messages yet….”

  Larx groaned and tore his hand through his hair. “No. My phone’s charging upstairs.”

  “Well, you’re going to need more than coffee when you go through those messages. That woman has people all stirred up blaming Kellan here for Isaiah—”

  “But—” He flailed his hands, looking at Kellan in horror. Kellan shrugged, pale, dead-eyed, obviously still in shock.

  “She’s got him painted as a jealous lover, and his parents have….” Eamon looked at him sorrowfully. “Son, are you sure you want to be here for this?”

  “They said they don’t want a fucking thing to do with their faggot son,” Kellan said, voice wooden. “I’ll be lucky if they don’t burn my clothes.”

  Eamon let out a sigh. “I rescued some boxes of them, and your yearbooks. It’s what I did before I came here.”

  Kellan barely grunted with the news.

  “Christi? Kirby?” Larx said, not hesitating. “If you guys could bring that stuff inside and set it up in the game room? It’s got a futon, Kellan, but it’s also got some dressers and bookshelves. Feel free to put up posters and stuff. I’ll try not to embarrass you too much at school.”

  “Mr. Larkin?”

  Larx caught his eyes. “Son, I’d be grateful if you stayed at least until graduation, if not until we get you situated in a college somewhere. Isaiah and Coach Jones have put a lot of work into you at this point. It’d be a shame to kick that to the curb, you think?”

  “Yessir,” Kellan said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

  “Consider yourself my last chance for a son,” he said, trying to lighten the moment.

  “I am not chopped liver,” Kirby said with dignity, and Larx gasped, meeting Aaron’s son’s eyes for a whole other reason.

  “Twins!” he said brightly, fighting back emotion with everything he had. “Freshly delivered on my doorstep at seventeen years of age. Thank God you’re both potty trained. Now go unpack.”

  The kids all disappeared, and Larx looked at Eamon, feeling somewhat stunned. “So, is there anything else I should know while they’re all busy?”

  Eamon nodded. “She’s going to blame you for letting the gay kids come out. And whatsherface, Heather Perkins, is right on board with that shit, and so’s Heather’s husband, Carl, and so’s her bestest mani/pedi buddy, Sissy Graham.”

  Larx stared at him, flat-eyed. “That’s three of nine people on the school board,” he said in disbelief. “How…?”

  “You had best get calling folks, Larx. Every teacher you think will come represent you, every parent you have with a kid in the GSA—I know you didn’t want the job, but if it’s not you, it’s going to be someone who doesn’t protect those kids like they need you to do. I’m giving a press conference this afternoon. I’ll talk about how you ran a tight ship, about how we suspect it was someone sneaking in deliberately from outside, how your quick thinking kept Julia Olson from getting away unquestioned—and yes, I’ll mention that little girl’s name out loud, and how her mother is obstructing justice. But we need a politician here—I know you loathe the species, but it’s time to learn some of their tricks, you understand?”

  “But… but tonight’s homecoming,” he said, feeling stupid. His whole day was booked up from three o’clock because he had to supervise decorating the gym.

  “Well, do what you can today and pick up the rest of it tomorrow. I’m telling you, if you don’t get ahead of this thing, your school is going to the people who would have let a riot happen last week, and personally, I’m not real fond of bigots.”

  Larx nodded. Play the game. He’d been doing it for seven years, trying to leave those days of just blurting out whatever he felt in public behind him.

  If Whitney Olson got her way, his entire school would be a gay-free zone, all in the name of drawing attention away from her daughter’s complicity in attempted murder. Larx hated it—and he hated that people could be so easily led.

  But he understood it, and knew it was the truth.

  “I’ll go get my phone,” he said. Then he paused. “Uh, Aar—uh, Deputy George, what are you doing today?”

  Aaron looked at his boss, who answered. “He is going to get himself a clean uniform—”

  “Fuck—the dryer,” Larx muttered, a
nd Eamon didn’t bother to hide his smile.

  “And then he’s going to escort Kellan down to the hospital to visit his boyfriend, just like you both promised Isaiah’s parents last night. Yes, they told me, they’re expecting you. Then he’s going to escort the boy back and help you do what you need to.”

  Larx moaned. “I needed to burn my garden waste tomorrow before the winds kick up and they don’t let us burn!”

  “I’ll get hot dogs and marshmallows on the way back,” Aaron promised. “I can stop and feed the chickens and get a change of clothes for the dance and some more for tomorrow.”

  “You don’t want to go to the dance,” Larx said weakly.

  “I want to see you in a suit,” Aaron said. His hand on Larx’s shoulder was warm and grounding, and Larx reached across his chest and grabbed it on reflex, just to squeeze. Then he remembered Eamon, and startled.

  Eamon smiled gently. “I’m not your enemy here,” he said. “But you two—I know it’s new. I know you’re grown men trying to live good lives. But this town is about to be up in your colon like a fiber-optic network reporting on your morning dump. You need to decide—and I’m talking today—what you’re going to say publicly about each other. Now I told Deputy George he’s my pick for sheriff next year, and that will stand until they pry this job from my cold, dead hands. But Larx, you could lose all sorts of things—including that promise you just made to that boy there—if you let this town get the best of you. So you two talk it out—”

  “I’m in,” Aaron said implacably. “I’ll follow Larx’s lead. When he comes out, I’m coming out. Not until then. Not to the press unless he’s making the announcement. He’s the one who needs to guide the herd. I’m just the dumb muscle behind him.”

  “Ha-ha. Dumb muscle. It is to laugh,” Larx muttered. “Okay, Eamon. Point taken. We’ll talk about it—I’ll talk to my friends at school, whatever. If I can, I would like to not make Isaiah’s attack about who I’m sleeping with, though. I would actually really like to know who is running around with a big fucking knife making holes in my kids!”

  “Or a big gun making holes in nameless guys in the lake,” Aaron said, and Larx groaned.

  Then he looked at Aaron thoughtfully. “Think they’re connected?”

  Aaron cocked his head. “No…?” But not like he was sure.

  “What would make you think so?” Eamon asked.

  Larx shrugged. “I don’t know. Just… we’re a small town, you know? Every town has its problems, and violence isn’t just a city thing, but two violent crimes in one day? What are the odds?”

  “But the victimology is all wrong,” Aaron said, impressing Larx with the word in spite of his addiction to crime fiction. “I mean, a middle-aged man was shot and dumped, and a teenager was knifed and left for dead. Besides the violence—”

  “And how personal the crimes were,” Larx said. “I mean, you have to admit, shooting a guy in his face in his underwear was….”

  All three men shuddered. Yeah, that was personal.

  “And the knife thing was brutal and close,” Eamon said, like he was considering it. “You have good instincts, Larx. I don’t know if we can link the investigations yet, but I think we can definitely keep our eyes open for possibilities.”

  Larx nodded and looked at Aaron. “Are you sure they don’t need you to knock on doors or something?”

  Eamon shook his head. “Nope—we’ve got the rest of the force canvassing the area. Larx, part of my job is not just solving crimes, it’s making sure the town doesn’t burn itself to the ground because people are flighty, spastic cattle. You’re the heart of that operation right now. Making calls and supervising homecoming are like tactical battles, and Deputy George is your right-hand man.”

  He stood and Larx stood with him. “Wait a minute, Sheriff Mills, and I’ll get you some fifty-fifty in a travel mug.”

  “Hot chocolate and coffee?” Eamon said wistfully. “That is damned kind of you, Principal Larkin. You have just become my favorite school official ever.”

  Larx let a smile slip through the grimness of the morning. “Well, I need to practice my skills in the next couple of hours. I’ll be sure to add that.”

  AN HOUR later the kids had unpacked Kellan’s clothes and personal items and effectively converted the game room to Kellan’s bedroom for as long as he needed a safe place to stay. Christi had gone so far as to break out some gaming posters and some old football posters that Olivia hadn’t thrown away from when she’d had a major crush on one of the Green Bay Packers. They put the posters up, and a picture of Isaiah that Kellan had drawn in art, and Larx had fished out his old comforter—this one blue and brown—and the teddy bear Olivia kept on her bed for when she came to visit.

  “It’s got good love in it,” Christi said soberly. “When we first lived here and Olivia and I had nightmares, Larx kept that bear in his bed. We’d crawl into bed with him for that night, and he’d give the bear to us the next night and say it had all his good dreams in it to keep us safe.”

  Kellan hugged the bear self-consciously. “Did it work?” he asked, like this was important.

  “It did,” Christi said, nodding at Larx. “We could sleep when that bear was in bed with us—it was Daddy making sure we were loved.”

  Kellan hugged the bear some more and looked at Larx with naked longing in his green eyes. “I can have it? Really?”

  Larx opened his arms, and Kellan rushed in like any kid he’d ever hugged. “Yeah, kid. All yours. Same love there, I promise.”

  Kellan nodded and set the bear down on the corner of the futon on top of his pillow. He looked past the room then and said, “Do you think Deputy George is ready to go to the hospital yet?”

  At that moment the dryer went off, and Larx grimaced. “Give him five minutes—his clothes just finished.” Aaron was showing Kirby how to clear the garden and finish building the bonfire, a task the George men had appointed themselves, apparently.

  “Uh, Larx?” Kellan asked, looking from Christi to Larx and back.

  “Yeah?”

  “Uh, Deputy George stayed here last night?”

  Oh. “Yeah.”

  Kellan smiled a little. “Okay. I’ll, uh… I’ll keep it secret.”

  “Not for too long,” Larx conceded. “It’s just… very new.”

  “It’s a good thing.” Kellan nodded for emphasis. “Me and Isaiah, we can’t be the only ones, you know?”

  “I know.” Larx clapped his hands to snap them all out of it. “Okay, everybody—I’ll go tell Aaron to get dressed and we can get this road on the show!”

  Aaron shooed Christi, Schuyler, and Kellan out to the SUV before he went out himself, pausing for a minute to corner Larx in the kitchen.

  “What?” Larx asked, his stomach upset with all of the possibilities for shit to be wrong. “Is there something else I don’t know? Another windmill to tilt at? Another fucking dragon hiding in the trees?”

  “Larx. Hush.”

  Aaron was getting good at shutting him up with a kiss, and Larx opened to him greedily, needing all of the comfort and want and warmth that Aaron was trying to shove down his tonsils with his persistent tongue.

  Aaron came back up for air, and Larx was lost in that little fantasyland where they would actually get time to themselves.

  “Larx?” Aaron said into his ear.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m coming home with you after the dance tonight. I’ll have clothes for tomorrow and Monday with me. Kirby too.”

  “Wha—?”

  “Parents actually never have the house to themselves, you know that, right?”

  “But—”

  “Everyone thinks we’re sleeping together anyway. I’d like to get some sex out of it.”

  “Aaron, that’s no reason to—”

  And another bone-melting, cock-hardening, unapologetic kiss.

  “That’s not why I want to sleep with you,” Aaron said, breath coming short.

  Larx studied him for a moment.
He was so blond and earnest and kind. “It’s going to be a real thing,” he said. “I mean… you staying the night, we might end up telling the whole town about that.”

  “Larx, I want to tell the whole world about you. I’ll be back with hot dogs and marshmallows and overnight bags. We’ll have the bonfire tomorrow because we need to do something normal, and we’ll deal with the homecoming dance and whatever the town throws at us together.”

  Larx closed his eyes and let that sink in. “It feels like we’ve been together my whole life,” he confessed weakly. “Like waking up with you is normal. Like working as a team is the way we’re supposed to be.”

  “Then we’ll make it so,” Aaron promised. One more kiss then, on the forehead, and Larx was left in a quiet house to pretend he was a politician instead of an educator.

  If he hadn’t had the taste of Aaron on his tongue, the feel of him still lingering under his palms, Larx would have doubted his life had changed.

  But it had changed, and it was those changes that gave him the strength for the task ahead.

  FIFTY-FIVE PHONE calls and a fuckton of crepe paper streamers later, Larx stood in the school gym, watching Aaron scoop punch and wishing they could have stayed home with Christi, Kellan, and Kirby. (Heh-heh—alliteration! He giggled to himself, which meant that, yes, he really had just adulted himself off the fucking rails.)

  “If you don’t want the world to know you’re in love with the guy, you need to stop staring at him,” Nancy said archly.

  Larx shook himself, aware he’d allowed his eyes to glaze over in Aaron’s direction.

  “At this point I could be staring at my cat licking himself and not know,” Larx told her, somewhat unfairly. “I don’t function well on four hours of sleep.” Two days in a row.

  “Yeah, I hear you.” Nancy yawned, reminding Larx that she’d been there plenty late the night before and that she’d been his second phone call after Yoshi—and she’d been awake already. She had grade school kids, poor thing. Soccer left no rest for the wicked. “And judging by the gossip, you were on the phone all day. How’s that going?”