Chapter One
E
LI
C
ALERO
was grating cheese when he heard the front
door open. He knew who it was. He’d given her a key to his
house years ago, and the only time she ever rang the bell
was when he tied a sock on the doorknob to let her know
he was “entertaining.”
“Hi,” she called out from the living room. “I brought in
your mail.”
“Thanks, Sandy.”
“Where are you?”
“Kitchen.”
Sandy entered moments later, studying the cover of
the latest
World Enquirer.
“Hm. Betty White’s pregnant with
a fetus cloned from a strand of Michael Jackson’s hair.”
She rolled up the tabloid and swatted Eli over the head.
“You should be ashamed of yourself, subscribing to this
crap.”
“I am,” Eli replied. “I wish it came in a plain brown
wrapper.” He started chopping green onions over the
grated cheese.
Sandy sniffed, and then frowned. “What’s for dinner?”
she asked, looking suspiciously at the covered pot
simmering on the stove.
“My three-alarm chili.”
Sandy froze for a moment. She turned to Eli slowly.
“Are you insane?”
“It’s winter. My mom always served chili in winter to
warm us up.”
“It’s ninety degrees outside!”
Eli shrugged. Christmas was only three days away, but
he had not decorated his home with so much as a potted
poinsettia. He didn’t see the point. For him, the holiday
season was about people bundling up in overcoats to
spend more money than they should, gathering around fires
to sip eggnog spiked with rum, and filling houses with the
scent of fresh-baked spice cakes while frost kissed the
windows. He’d grown up in Missouri. Living now in
Pasadena, he missed the snow. “Chili in winter. That’s
tradition.”
“Whatever.” Sandy tossed the magazine on the
counter and started flipping through the envelopes in her
hand. She was thirty-three, a slender, pretty, dark-haired
woman dressed in black shorts, a white T-shirt, and
sandals. “Hey. What’s this?”
“Sandy, you asked me to let you know when you’re
being nosy. Well, here it is:
You’re being nosy
.”
“Thanks.” She held up the envelope that had caught
her eye. “What’s this from the Committee for the Elites in
Forest Lake, Missouri?”
Eli groaned, rolling his eyes. “Damn.”
“Ooh. I smell dirt.” Sandy slipped a thumbnail under the
flap and started to open it.
Eli snatched the envelope from her. “It’s not ‘dirt’. It’s
just an invitation to my stupid high school reunion.” He
raised the lid on the trash can and tossed in the offending
mail.
“I’m guessing you don’t plan to attend.”
“I skipped the ten-year reunion, so it’s a pretty safe bet
that I’m skipping the twenty-year too. And the fucking thirty-,
forty-, and—God help us all—fifty-year reunions.”
“Well, aren’t your pantyhose in a twist.” Sandy reached
around him and delicately retrieved the invitation from the
trash. “Come on. You have to be dying to see what
everybody looks like twenty years down the line.”
“Not really.”
“Yes, you are. I know you. I can see it in your eyes.”
She ripped the envelope open and pulled out the neatly
folded invitation.
“Opening other people’s mail is a federal crime,
Sandy.”
“You tossed this, remember? It’s not mail now, it’s
trash.” She started reading. “You have nothing to be
ashamed of, you know. That cute little baby face makes you
look twenty-seven instead of thirty-seven. You’re nice and
slim. I’ll bet you don’t weigh an ounce more now than you
did in high school.”
“I don’t. That’s part of the problem. I’m still a skinny
nerd.”
“Oh, you are not.” Sandy continued reading. “Hey, this
sounds like it will be fun. They’re having a dinner and dance
the first day, and the second day, there’s a pool party.” She
gave Eli an excited smile. “You have to go to this.”
Eli got plates and bowls from one of the cabinets and
started setting the kitchen table.
“Eli, are you listening to me?”
“No.”
“What in the world are you so afraid of?”
Eli sighed. “Sandy, high school was hell for me.”
“High school is hell for just about everybody—”
“Shit, don’t patronize me. I’m not talking about getting
teased or worrying about pimples. The first guy I fell in love
with, the one I was so crazy about…
that
was in high
school.”
Sandy paused. She could see the sudden pain that
opened in Eli’s tan face, the same pain that appeared
every time he mentioned his first boyfriend. “You’ve never
told me what that was all about.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Eli said curtly. He took the
bowl of cheese and onions and slapped it down in the
middle of the table. Then he yanked open a drawer and
began snatching up silverware.
“Eli?” Sandy said patiently. “Honey?”
“What?”
“If you’re still upset about this guy twenty damn years
after the fact, it may be a good idea for you to talk about the
whole thing. Either that or you’ll crack like that bowl you just
put down.”
Eli turned, reaching for the bowl of cheese and onion. It
had split neatly in two, the halves spread apart like some
strange blossom. “Shit,” he muttered.
S
ANDY
dished up a big helping of chili and placed it before
Eli. “Would you prefer crackers or bread, good sir?”
“Crackers, please.”
Sandy knew her way around Eli’s kitchen as well as he
did. She opened the pantry, pulled out a sleeve of saltines,
and put it on the table. “What will sir have to drink? Iced
tea? Sprite?”
“Gimme a double shot of bourbon.”
“Ah. Sir is building up his courage. Very wise.” She
dashed bourbon into a glass over ice and handed it to Eli.
Then she poured herself a glass of iced tea and sat down
at the opposite side of the table with the spinach and
tomato salad she had hastily assembled. “God bless,” she
intoned with a brief nod.
They ate in silence for nearly ten minutes.
“Eli, you can start talking any time now,” Sandy said
finally. “Tell me about Humphrey.”
Eli sighed. “Murphy, not Humphrey. Kevin Murphy, but
everybody called him by his last name. He was hot as hell.
He transferred from some private school to Forest Lake
High in our sophomore year. Tall, lean, black-haired, and
mean. That’s what I thought the first time I saw him. He
walked around with this scowl, and everybody just knew he
was bad to the core. God, how I wanted him. We were in
the same gym class. He was a natural athlete, and the first
time I saw him naked, I swear to you I almost fainted. He
had long, thick muscle everywhere. And I do mean
everywhere.
”
everywhere.
”
Sandy wiggled in her chair. “Ooh. I get the picture.
Thanks.”
“The coach wanted him for the basketball team. Girls
crawled over each other trying to set themselves up on
dates with him. He could’ve had just about anything or
anybody he wanted, could have been a hot jock ladies’
man, but he kept to himself mostly. I didn’t even speak to
him at first. I’d already made the mistake of hitting on a guy
I liked at school, Garvin Mitchell. My mom always told me
that life is about taking chances. I suspected Garvin might
swing for my team, so I took a chance. Garvin turned out to
be as straight as they come, and he was quick to put out
the word about me. Kids I didn’t even know were calling me
Queen Eli.”
“For the record, you’ve never struck me as particularly
queenly.”
“It was a moniker that stuck until I graduated,” Eli went
on. “In a way, I was glad to have it, because it got me
Murphy.”
“How’d that happen?”
“He heard word that I was gay. He never so much as
looked at me in school, but one Saturday night, a couple of
months after he transferred in, he showed up at my house.
I’ll never forget that. He had on blue jeans with a hole in the
right knee and a black sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off.
His arms had a lot more muscle than mine. His hair was
short on the sides but long in the back, hanging down his
neck. He was carrying his textbook from World History. He
told my mom we were going to study. She had no idea at
the time that I was gay, so she didn’t think anything about
going off to work and leaving us in the house alone.”
“Your mom had to work on a Saturday night?”
“Yes, Sandy,” Eli drawled, his voice heavily sardonic.
“ER nurses sometimes work holidays too.”
“Right. I forgot that she worked at the hospital. Go on.”
“Once she was gone, we went up to my room. Of
course, that World History book never even got cracked
open. He asked if we could watch television, so I turned on
this college football game. Murphy stretched out on my bed,
shoes and all. I sat in the chair at my desk. We watched the
game like that for about twenty minutes. I like football, but I
couldn’t focus on the game because Murphy pulled up his
sweatshirt, and he kept rubbing his hand over that rippled,
slightly hairy stomach of his. Then, out of the blue, he asked
me if I wanted to suck his dick.”
Smiling crookedly, Sandy shook her head. “Crude.”
“It was, but I jumped on that bed so fast it surprised the
hell out of us both. I was so excited I started shaking as I
unbuckled his jeans and pulled them down. I was a virgin,
but I caught on quickly. Later, he told me it was his first time
too, and that made what we did that night seem precious,
special. Over the next few weeks, we fell into this routine. At
school, we had nothing to do with each other. But every
Saturday night, after Mom went to work, he’d come over
and I’d blow him.”
“And you were satisfied with that?”
“God, yes! Sandy, you have to understand, I was a
horny teenager. We both were. And Murphy was hot.”
“So you said. And I can get just as turned on by a hot
guy as you can. But I drive a two-way street. Didn’t you want
more from him?”
“Sure,” Eli admitted, “but I thought Murphy was straight
and getting a blow job was as far as he’d go with a guy.
Over time, our relationship changed. He started bringing
over chips and sodas, and after the sex, we’d spend hours
watching TV together. Sometimes, we’d have these long
conversations where he’d ask all these questions about
me, my parents, and how things changed for my family after
my dad died. Then he started bringing me little gifts—CDs
by artists that I liked, a baseball cap with the logo of my
favorite football team, that kind of stuff. He’d put his head in
my lap and tell me how fucked up his life was at home with
his dad. One night, when I started to pull out his dick for the
usual, he grabbed my hands and he kissed me for the first
time.”
Eli closed his eyes, shivering as the memory washed
over him. “Sweet Jesus, Sandy, how he kissed me. Soft at
first, sort of hesitant and scared, but the kisses got harder
and deeper, making me so weak I could have melted right
through the bed. He held me as if he was drowning and my
body was a life preserver. And it was only then that I
realized he was falling in love with me.”
A dazed smile on her face, Sandy began fanning
herself with her hands. “Oh… my… God….”
“‘Oh my God’ is right. That night, we took off all our
clothes, and he screwed me for the first time. When that
was over, another first:
he
blew
me.
After that, even though
he kept up the same facade at school, I couldn’t just ignore
him like I had before. Other kids caught me staring at him.
As the year went on, our weekends together got more
intense. He started letting me screw him. It got so I couldn’t
hide how I felt about him. Just from my body language
whenever he went by me in school, kids could tell there was
something going on between us. Then rumors started going
around about him.”
“What kind of rumors?”
Eli put a finger to his forehead, frowning thoughtfully.
“Well, let’s see. Murphy had gorgeous females practically
throwing their panties at him, but he had no girlfriend, and
the school fag flashed like a neon sign every time he got
near. What kind of rumors do
you
think they were?”
Sandy laughed, refusing to take offense. “And how did
he-man Murphy react to that?”
“He hated it. He’d get pissed, especially when guys
whispered behind his back. He got into so many fights, the
principal threatened to expel him. Strangely enough, the
more he fought and the angrier he got, the more he
seemed to need me. He would sneak over two or three
times a week and spend the night with me. He was so
open, so… vulnerable when we were together, nothing like
the badass he was in school. But to kill the rumors and
calm things down, he started dating this girl.”
Chapter Two
S
ANDY
paused with a forkful of salad halfway to her mouth.
“You’re kidding. He brought a girl into all that?”
“Her name was Brittany Summers,” said Eli. “She was
beautiful, a petite blonde little thing, but she had this weird,
New Agey hippie vibe going on. She was a year older than
Murph and me, but she was a sophomore, like us, because
her parents had pulled her out of school for a whole year to
take her on some spiritual retreat in the mountains. She
was far from dumb. It didn’t take long for her to figure out
that the rumors about Murph and me were true. And she
didn’t care. She went right on seeing him, knowing that he
was in love with me.”
“That’s crazy. What kind of freako fag hag was she?”
“A devoted one, apparently. At the start of our junior
year, she told Murph she was in love with him and that she
would be with him no matter what. By that point, Murphy
spent almost as much time with her as he did with me. I
could tell that he had feelings for her too. And yes, that hurt
me to the bottom of my heart. But the rumors about Murph
had stopped, and things were better for him at school. I just
accepted that having Brittany in the middle was the
necessary price Murphy and I had to pay until we could
graduate and run off together. His feelings toward me
hadn’t changed. He needed me more than ever. His father
was the worst kind of bastard, and I was the one who
nursed Murphy through all that shit, not Brittany.”
“What was his father doing to him?”
Taking a swig of bourbon, Eli held up a warning finger.
“We agreed that we would talk about my issues, not
someone else’s.” He noticed that Sandy’s glass was
empty. He got up and filled it with more iced tea. “You look
as if you could use something stronger. You sure you don’t
want some wine?”
“You know me well, but no thanks.” Sandy took a sip of
tea as Eli sat down. She waved her hand impatiently. “Go
on.”
“That three-way affair went on through senior year.
Murph planned to move to New York after graduation to get
away from his dad. He told me that he wanted me—just me
—to go with him. I was excited. We were finally going to be
together, a couple, the way we wanted to be. I was
accepted into New York University, my mom took a year’s
lease on an apartment for me, and the school counselor
helped Murphy line up a nice Big Apple job. I thought
everything was set for us, that the only thing left was for
Murphy to end things with Brittany. Graduation night, right
after the ceremony, he did end things… with me.”
A frown edged onto Sandy’s face. “He chose that
hippie girl over you?”
“In those last weeks before graduation, he and I made
love so many times I think it made me delirious, like a
doper high on drugs. He never said a word, never gave
even a hint that he wasn’t planning to stay with me. Looking
back on it now, on how desperate and sad he was in our
last times together, I should have known. Yeah, he walked
away from all that we meant to each other. For a girl.”
Bitterness dropped over Eli’s face like a curtain.
Sandy reached across the table and clasped his hand. “Eli,
you can’t be mad at the guy for doing what he thought was
right for him. Maybe he just loved her more—”
“He didn’t!” Eli spat out the words, snatching his hand
away. “He was
gay
, for God’s sake! He loved me! He
needed me! He needed all the things only one gay man can
give another! There was no way he could fake that! He
chickened out, Sandy, pure and simple!”
Sandy gave a small, patient smile. “Eli? Sweetie?”
“What!”
“You’re yelling.”
Eli started to yell back that he wasn’t yelling, and then
caught himself. He took a deep breath. “Sorry.”
“Don’t you see how all that anger is affecting you? You
have to let it go.”
“I have let it go.” He saw Sandy open her mouth to
refute him and quickly cut her off. “Honestly, I have. It took
almost ten years for me to stop hurting for Murphy, to stop
wanting him. But that’s all behind me now.”
Sandy rattled off a cynical laugh. “That’s crap and you
know it. You’re still carrying way too much baggage for that
guy. It’s time you put it down.”
“I told you,” Eli replied stubbornly, “I am over Kevin
Murphy.”
“Good. Then there’s no reason for you to skip your
twenty-year reunion.”
“Huh?”
Sandy fished a small white card out of the envelope
beside her salad bowl. “You’re supposed to RSVP. Do you
want to do that by e-mail or snail back this little card?”
“Wait a minute—”
“Why? You
are
over this guy, right?”
“Completely.”
“So you’ll RSVP away and get ready to take your ‘I’m-
completely-over-Murphy’ self back to Forest Lake for your
high school reunion. As a matter of fact, I’ll send your RSVP
right now.” Sandy got up and grabbed her cell phone, which
she’d placed atop the refrigerator. “This won’t take but a
second.”
“Stop it, Sandy. I said I’m not going, and I meant it.”
“No, Eli.” Having accessed the phone’s e-mail function,
she selected the “create message” option and typed in the
address from the small card that accompanied the
invitation. “You are going. If I have to break every one of my
expensively done nails dragging you there, you will be at
that reunion.”
Eli folded his arms over his chest and glared across
the table at her. “Sandy, don’t send that e-mail.”
Sandy paused, her finger over the Send button. “Listen
to me. We’re not cute little twentysomethings anymore,
hanging out in the bars and dancing the night away. I’m
engaged, I’ll be a wife in less than two months, and—this
isn’t the way I planned to spring this on you, but—in about
seven months, I’ll be a mother.”
“What?” For a moment, Eli looked stunned. Then his
face broke into a big grin. “Sandy, that’s wonderful!” He
started to get up, driven by a sudden elated urge to hug her.
Sandy waved him back. “Eli, sit down and stay
focused. I’m telling you all this to say that I have a life. It’s
time you got one too.”
“And you think going to this stupid class reunion is the
solution to everything, huh?”
“No, but it’s a start.”
“Cassandra Lloyd, contrary to what you believe, I do
have a life, thank you.”
Sandy looked around the kitchen, up at the ceiling, and
under the table. Then she looked back at Eli. “Where?”
He chuckled despite himself. “You know, you’re
wasting your talents designing software. You should be a
comedienne. Or better still, since you know every damn
thing, just go online as Sandypedia.”
“I don’t know everything, but I know you. When’s the
last time you had an actual date?”
“Friday night. Remember the Asian guy I told you
about, the one I met in the adult bookstore—”
“That was a fuck, not a date. You don’t even remember
his name.”
“It still counts.”
“No, it doesn’t. A date is not cruising some guy at a
dirty bookstore, walking up to him and going, ‘Hi, I’m Eli.
Wanna come to my place for some fun?’ A date is when
you meet a guy who intrigues you, who likes your little baby
boy smile, and the two of you go for dinner or coffee and
have
a
conversation.
When’s the last time you did
something like that?”
Eli had to think about that one. He frowned. “Well….”
“Uh-huh. I’m waiting.”
“Don’t be a bitch.”
“I’m a bitch who’s right. A series of anonymous fucks is
not a life, Eli. Or, at least, it’s not the kind of life you should
want. You’re just using frivolous sex to avoid dealing with all
the crap from your past.”
Eli threw up his hands, rolling his eyes. “So we’re back
to
that
again, are we?”
“Oh, we never left ‘that’, my friend. One way or another,
you have to put the past in its place so you can move on.
How do you expect to have any chance of feeling
something for another guy if you keep Kevin Murphy stuck
in your chest like a brick?”
“For the last time, Sandy, he is not stuck in my chest.”
“Okay.” She raised her cell phone, holding it directly in
front of Eli’s eyes, and pressed the Send button. “There, the
RSVP’s done. Now we have to make plane and hotel
reservations for you. Let’s try Orbitz.” She accessed the
Internet.
“I can’t believe you just did that.”
“When have you ever known me to bluff about
anything?” She pulled up the travel site that she wanted.
“Do you have any frequent flyer miles with a particular
airline?”
Eli reached over and pressed the Off button on
Sandy’s cell phone.
“Oh. You prefer to make the reservations yourself.” She
put the phone aside, smiling at him. “That’s fine. After we
finish dinner, you can log on with your tablet. By the way, I’m
not leaving here until your travel arrangements are set.”
“Then I hope you like the new color in my guest
bedroom, because you’re going to be living there.” He
laughed. “Remember those three months you had to live
with me when your apartment building burned down? We
fought like Tom and Jerry.”
“Don’t remind me.” Sandy laughed too. “And don’t
change the subject. We’re making plans for your reunion.”
“Look, I haven’t been to Forest Lake in nearly fourteen
years, not since my mom died—”
“And you’re long overdue for a visit to your parents’
grave. We’ll make that number one on your list of things to
do once you’re in town.”
“Do you have any idea how awkward this reunion
would be for me? What am I supposed to do if Murphy
shows up?”
“Shake him until his eyes roll. Put a knee in his
cojones. Tell him how much it hurt when he cut off your
relationship like it was a gangrenous toe. You do whatever
it takes to put the past behind you.”
Eli felt a twinge of excitement and fear, and he found
himself wondering if Murphy was still the handsome hot guy
he had been twenty years ago. He had to admit that he
wanted very much to see the man. Moreover, he had some
vague hope that there would be a chance to restart what
had ended on their graduation. The feelings he thought he
had buried deeply and finally were still there. “Oh, sweet
Jesus…,” he muttered, closing his eyes and shaking his
head.
Sandy put a hand to her chest, looking profoundly
touched. “Praying for strength. Ah. That’s a very good idea.
It’ll keep you from throttling your ex-boyfriend.”
“Sandy, I have no intention of throttling Murphy. I don’t
hate the guy.”
“But you’re mad at him. You’re hurt. Tell him how you
feel. Tell him everything. If there’s an ounce of decency in
the guy, he’ll beg you to forgive him and explain why he left
you. He owes you that. Get him to tell you, once and for all,
whether he wants to be with you again. Then you can move
on with your life.”
“Everything always seems so simple to you. I wish I
lived in Sandyland. But you’re right. I should go, only I don’t
want to go alone. Can you come with me?”
“Honey, by the time your reunion rolls around, I’ll be
knee-deep in dirty Pampers and spit-up. You won’t want
Sandy Lloyd anywhere near you then, believe me.” Sandy
reached over and gave Eli’s hand an affectionate squeeze.
“You’ll be fine.”
Eli looked at her doubtfully. “If you say so.” He picked
up his glass and downed the rest of the bourbon in one
gulp.
W
HEN
dinner was done, Sandy stood up and started
collecting dirty dishes. “I’ll wash, you dry and put away.”
“Thanks, but no, thanks,” Eli said, rising and taking the
plates from her hands. “You run along home. Sean’s been
gone a week, and I’d be willing to bet you haven’t even
looked at a broom since he left. Don’t make the man come
home from his conference and clean house.”
“He likes housework. Who am I to deprive him of his
fun?”
“He likes a clean house. That doesn’t mean he likes
cleaning up after you. Go home and wash your own dirty
dishes.”
She grinned at him, giving his shoulder a playful swat.
“There’s one little detail I have to see to before I leave.
Where’s your tablet?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Sandy.” Eli carried the plates to
the sink. “You don’t have to look over my shoulder. I already
told you, I agree that I should go back and air out my
feelings over Murphy. I’m going to make flight and hotel
reservations as soon as I finish the dishes. Promise and
cross my heart.” He started rinsing the plates and loading
them into the dishwasher.
“All right. I’ll take your word for it.” She tucked a
Pasadena Pumas baseball cap on her head. She had
been coaching the Pumas, a Little League team from the
elementary school in her neighborhood, for almost six years
now. “And
I
agree that I should get home and chase out the
dust bunnies. Sean’s plane gets in at six tomorrow
morning, and I don’t want to spend all night cleaning up.
Call me later to make sure I haven’t slunk into bed and
passed on the tidying.”
“Sure.” Eli added the glasses to the dishwasher. “Hey.
I’ll have to throw you a baby shower. On top of a wedding
shower.”
“Vera and Opal are way ahead of you. They’re
organizing one big shindig on my behalf. Your name’s on
the guest list, so look for your invitation any day now.” She
walked over and kissed him on the lips. “Thanks for the
dinner. The salad was delish, even if I made it myself. Use
the rest of that chili to unclog your drain. See you,
sweetheart.”
Eli began cleaning the kitchen as Sandy made her way
through the living room and let herself out. Twenty minutes
later, with the dishwasher humming and the leftovers put
away, he went to his den, grabbed his iPad, and settled
comfortably into his suede lounger. After firing up the
computer, he went to his e-mail to check for anguished
pleas from his publisher regarding the looming deadline on
his latest manuscript. There were no such entreaties, but
the instant message button was blinking insistently at the
bottom of the screen, begging for attention. He opened the
chat.
<ShyBoy> Hi, there, Eli. Glad to get your RSVP.
I’m on the Committee for the Elites. Please get
back to me when you read this message. I have a
proposal for you.
Eli pursed his lips. The message had come over at
6:18 p.m. He looked at his watch. It was now 6:46 p.m.
Chances were that ShyBoy was still online. He typed out a
reply.
<WriteStuff> Eli here. Just got your message,
ShyBoy. What’s your proposal?
After sending his response, Eli went to the Internet to
search for August flights. He had just reached the website
for Pacifica Airlines when the instant message button on
the bottom toolbar began flashing again. He pulled up the
new message.
<ShyBoy> A little background info first. About 11
years ago, I became a founding member of the
Forest Lake High School Gay and Lesbian
Alumni Society. At the risk of being
presumptuous, I thought you’d want to join.
The fingers on Eli’s right hand drummed the tablet’s
casing for several moments. Then:
<WriteStuff> Why the hell would I do that?
The words “ShyBoy is replying” appeared on the
screen and held there for almost a minute before giving
way to the response.
<ShyBoy> There are, I was surprised to discover,
more than a few queer boys and girls in our class.
And we didn’t exactly stand with you when you
were dragged through the dirt back in high school.
These days, we’re trying to be more supportive,
especially of our younger brothers and sisters. We
welcome members not just from our class, but the
classes before and after us as well. The Society
hosts a dance every New Year’s Eve. I’d love to
see you again, and so would some of your other
out classmates. I know it’s short notice, but do you
think you’ll be able to make the dance?
Eli responded immediately.
<WriteStuff> Who are you?
To which the reply came just as quickly.
<ShyBoy> Come to the dance and find out.
Eli hated being teased, but he was definitely intrigued.
There was no way ShyBoy
could be Kevin Murphy, of
course. The teenage Murphy had never been so playful,
even between the sheets, and he was hardly the type to
associate himself with a bunch of out and proud
homosexuals. Still, Eli was dying to know just who his other
gay classmates were.
<WriteStuff> Send me the details about the
dance. I’ll be there. You’d better be there too.
<ShyBoy> Wouldn’t miss it. I’ll shoot you an e-mail
with the info.
Eli put the tablet aside and settled back in the lounger
to wait for the e-mail. He was glad for the unexpected
invitation. The only thing on his social calendar for the next
two weeks was the New Year’s Eve party at his agent’s
Hollywood condo, and he could certainly skip that. He was
actually anxious to get back to Forest Lake. Talking about
Murphy had not only brought back memories of the love
they had shared, it had reminded him of just how cold and
heartless Murphy’s dad had been. He should have reported
the man to the police, but he’d just been a kid and too
afraid to involve the authorities. His inaction had resulted in
a lot of suffering.
Maybe it was time he did something about Murphy’s
father.
Chapter Three
T
HE
rumble of servomechanisms woke Eli. He sat up in his
seat and looked out the window. The plane’s wing dipped
slowly downward, the flaps locking into place. They were
descending, on the approach path to the airport outside St.
Louis. Features on the ground below stood out more
distinctly. He could make out the tiny ribbon of a highway
winding its way through wet, wintry countryside, with
housing developments and shopping complexes sprouting
off it here and there like huge warty growths. There was a
soft
bing
, and the “Fasten Seat Belts” light came on. Eli
was already in compliance, as he had never unbuckled.
Flying made him nervous.
A flight attendant moved briskly down the aisle,
collecting empty coffee cups, soda cans, and crumpled
snack wrappers into a large plastic garbage bag.
Passengers buckled up and locked their serving trays back
into place. The woman sitting next to Eli, in the aisle seat,
snorted in her sleep. The flight attendant stopped, nudged
the woman awake, and then asked her to fasten her seat
belt. The woman yawned loudly and obeyed.
Eli looked out the window again. The ground was
closer, intermittently whiting out as they passed through low
clouds. He could practically feel the change in clime. On
takeoff, they had flown over a California landscape that was
dry but green. Staunch evergreens waved high and
multicolored geraniums and purple bougainvillea sprawled
majestically across fences and along the walls of buildings.
Skimpily attired sunbathers littered rooftops beneath the
hot, bright sky to bolster their tans. Here, everything below
was brown, much of it covered in dense blankets of snow.
The land itself seemed to be tucked in and hibernating.
Without a doubt, he was in Missouri. It was good to be
back. He settled deep into his seat again and closed his
eyes.
Eli half dozed but came instantly alert the moment the
plane had taxied up to the gate and his fellow passengers
rose en masse from their seats. After retrieving his
overnight bag and laptop from the overhead compartment,
he joined the slow march up the aisle and off the plane. He
pulled out the thick canvas jacket he had stuffed into the
overnight bag and slipped into it. Just the sight of the snow
piled along the runways made him shudder with anxious
delight.
It would take several minutes for the luggage to be
unloaded and sent to the baggage claim area. He used the
time to go to the rental car counter and get the keys for the
SUV he had reserved.
Once he had the vehicle and his luggage, he drove
carefully away from the Lambert-St. Louis International
Airport, taking the highway past Bridgeton into Forest
Lake. Plows had scoured the road, leaving dirty gray piles
of snow on either side, but there was still a slushy coating
on the asphalt that was slowly refreezing as evening came
on. This was why he had wanted a vehicle with four-wheel
drive, something that could handle the treacherous Missouri
winter driving conditions that he remembered all too well.
It was a few minutes after five. According to the
information ShyBoy had provided, the dance hosted by the
Forest Lake High School Gay and Lesbian Alumni Society
would be starting at eight. That left Eli a little leeway.
Instead of going straight to the hotel to check in, he decided
to take a drive through his old neighborhood.
So far, it had been a quiet holiday season for him. He
essentially had no family. There were some cousins on his
father’s side who lived somewhere in Illinois, but he’d had
no contact with them since he was ten. He usually spent
Christmas with Sandy and her family, but she was with
Sean now. This year, even though Sandy had begged him
to come over, he had stayed home. It was her family’s first
Christmas with Sean, and Eli hadn’t wanted to intrude.
If he were still in California, he’d be on his way to
Hollywood. The annual New Year’s Eve party thrown by his
agent, Nate Danziger, was intended to provide
opportunities for the man’s clients—which included writers
and actors—to network with producers. After thirteen years
as an investigative reporter with the
Los Angeles Times
,
Eli had settled into a career writing true-crime books. His
books sold fairly well, enough to lift him solidly into the
ranks of the upper middle class, but none of his work had
caught the interest of Hollywood, at least so far. Nate
insisted it was just a matter of getting one of his books into
the hands of the right star actor or producer. So Eli dutifully
made the rounds at Nate’s party every year. If nothing else,
it kept him from ringing in the New Year at some bar,
cruising for tail.
Forest Lake had changed in the years since Eli’s last
visit. The business district, which had once consisted of a
gas station, a diner, a tiny professional building, and an
assortment of mom-and-pop shops, was now dominated by
a sprawling open-air mall. At the southwestern edge of the
town, a gated community of stately mansions had grown up
into the hills. The tiny library at the edge of Eli’s old
neighborhood, where he had spent many a Saturday
afternoon lost in angst-filled young adult novels, was still
standing guard, however.
After passing the library, Eli turned right onto Old Lake
Road. The houses were pretty much as he remembered
them except for a new coat of paint here and a roof
replacement there. The road wound up to a cul-de-sac atop
a small hill.
His family home was still there. A three-story Queen
Anne Victorian-era house, it was one of the oldest buildings
in Forest Lake, erected in 1930 in what was then a rugged
patch of woods surrounded by farmland. Eli figured the
original owner had wanted plenty of privacy. In the 1940s,
tiny housing developments began swallowing up the farms;
then stores popped up one by one, and not long after World
War II, the town of Forest Lake was officially incorporated.
After the original owner died, the house sat vacant for
years, slowly deteriorating. With five bedrooms and four
baths, the grand old place had been too big for Eli and his
parents. But Eli’s father, Alberto Calero, had loved the
architecture, and the asking price was too much of a
bargain to pass on. A construction worker, Alberto Calero
had worked on the house for nearly a year, restoring it to
prime condition. After his mother’s death, Eli had sold the
place for a substantial sum.
Eli parked at the curb, turned off the engine, and sat
looking up at the house. A middle-aged couple with four
teenaged sons had bought the place from him. The last
time he saw it, the exterior had been painted a sunny yellow
with beige trim; blooming flowers lined the porch in clay
pots; waist-high azaleas surrounded the outer walls; bikes,
skateboards, and sports equipment littered the lawn; and
an honest-to-God white picket fence bordered the property.
Fourteen years later, all of that was gone. The place now
had an austere, almost foreboding look. The exterior wood
walls had been overlaid with dark-brown brick. The
ornamental picket fence had been replaced with a six-foot
high, spike-topped metal barrier, and a massive
electronically operated metal gate secured the driveway.
There didn’t seem to be a shrub or tree anywhere on the
property.
For a moment, Eli wondered if he was at the right
house. Still, he could feel nostalgia washing over him like a
warm shower. He had grown to manhood here. His mother
and father had spent their last years together here. All the
times he’d made love to Murphy had been here.
The memories flowed one after the other. Playing
football on the lawn with his friends. His father grilling
steaks and chicken in the back yard. His mother teaching
him how to cook his favorite foods. Murphy lying naked next
to him in his bed. He could have sat there for the entire
evening, losing himself in reminiscence.
Barely ten minutes after Eli’s arrival, the front door of
the house opened and a man walked out. He stopped at
the edge of the porch and stood there, straight as a rod, his
hands folded calmly at his crotch. He stared squarely at Eli.
The man was of average height, but he was thickly built, the
jacket of the dark suit he wore straining against the
broadness of his shoulders. His eyes had the glint of cold
steel.
Eli stared back at him for roughly a minute, wondering
what the hell this was all about. He was on a public street.
He wasn’t trespassing or playing Peeping Tom. He had
every right to be there. He stared at the man several
seconds longer, refusing to be intimidated.
Then he turned the key, starting the SUV’s engine. He
made a slow turn, following the curve of the cul-de-sac until
he was heading out. With a final glance at the man on the
porch, he drove slowly away. Obviously the house had
changed hands again, but the man in the dark suit was not
the new owner.
Eli knew a watchdog when he saw one.
E
LI
shut off the water and stepped from the tub, his body
dripping. The bathroom was steamy from his shower. He
dried himself vigorously with a thick white towel that was
softer and fluffier than he had expected. Then he used the
towel to wipe the condensation from the full-length mirror on
the back of the door and studied his reflection.
Growing up, he had skated, biked, and played sports
with the other boys in his neighborhood. But where their
muscles had thickened from the activity, his body had
remained stubbornly lanky. Looking at his naked body now,
he had to admit that his six-foot frame finally possessed a
tight, toned appearance. His shoulders and chest were
fairly broad, his waist narrow, his arms and legs ropy with
muscle. The two years he’d been a member of his local
YMCA had paid off. His tan skin—a compromise between
the rich brown tones of his Puerto Rican father and his fair-
skinned Irish American mother—had taken on a ruddy glow
from the hot shower. His slick, wet black hair stuck out in
little spikes around his head.
He applied the blow dryer, skimming his fingers
through his hair and teasing it back into its usual small
cloud of soft curls. After a quick shave to eradicate his five
o’clock shadow, he exited the bathroom and dressed in the
jeans, turtleneck, and spanking new Timberlands he’d laid
out for himself. Then he stood in front of the mirror again,
gave himself a final once-over, and decided that he looked
pretty damn good. He was no head-turner, but his dorky
high school self had definitely been put to rest.
He shoved his wallet into his back pocket, pulled on
his jacket and gloves, snagged his keys and the room’s key
card, and took the elevator down to the lobby.
The hotel’s lounge was already revving up for its New
Year’s Eve celebration. A five-piece band poured down
bebop from the stage at the front of the lounge. Guests
danced in the aisle just below the stage or sat sipping
drinks, chattering happily. A sign posted on the hostess
stand promised complimentary champagne to all patrons at
the magic hour.
A star-spangled champagne bottle as big as a
ponderosa pine dominated the center of the lobby. Just
trying to look up to the top of it gave Eli spasms of vertigo.
He was sure that if it fell in any direction, it would take out
an entire wall. He breezed quickly by the thing and out the
door, where he waited on the steps until the valet brought
up his SUV.
He had memorized the directions ShyBoy provided.
They took him back into the heart of town, past Forest Lake
High School, which, but for a massive, brick-enclosed
digital sign at the main entrance that flashed “Happy
Holidays from the Forest Lake Hornets,” looked much as it
had twenty years ago. About a mile past the sprawling dark
brick building, Eli took a left on Rex Road and carefully
drove its tight curves to the Hunters Lodge.
The lodge was a squat but elegant building, its long
front wall lined with big windows that formed bright, yellow-
lit squares in the dark of the cloudy, cold night. It was still
more than an hour before the dance was supposed to start,
so there were only a few vehicles standing in the parking
lot. One was a van with the fork-and-spoon logo of
Pamela’s Catering on either side. The rest were mostly
SUVs, although there was a bright-colored sports car here
and there. Apparently, the midlife crisis was hitting some of
the alumni a little early.
Eli pulled up beside a black Hummer near the main
entrance and shut off the engine. A plastic banner reading
“Forest Lake High Gay and Lesbian New Year’s Eve
Dance” had been draped above the double doors. ShyBoy
had suggested that Eli come early so they would have time
to talk before the dance started. Eli climbed out of the SUV.
The parking lot was sprinkled with ice-melting pellets, which
crunched irritatingly beneath the thick rubber soles of his
boots.
He looked at the building again. He could see people
inside, hurrying about. Something made him hesitate.
There was little chance that Kevin Murphy would show up
here tonight, but some part of him was still apprehensive
about the prospect of seeing his first—and, he had to
admit, only—love again. His hands actually started
trembling. “Oh,
sto p
it,” he hissed at himself. “This is
ridiculous.” Balling his hands into fists, he marched with
blazing determination toward the lodge’s entrance.
Chapter Four
M
USIC
started as he moved through the building’s narrow
foyer, the deep bass thump startling him. It was some
bizarre techno-pop, the kind of stuff that was edgy a
decade ago when he and Sandy were hitting the gay clubs
in San Francisco. Pushing through a pair of swinging
double doors, Eli emerged into a cavernous meeting hall. In
the hall’s center were rows of tables elegantly draped in
white linen. Two young women were quickly but carefully
arranging place settings on the tables. They wore black
slacks and white shirts with “Pamela’s Catering” stitched in
red across the top of the breast pocket.
To his left, Eli saw a tiny middle-aged woman—
presumably Pamela herself—who was dressed in black
and overseeing two young men in the setup of chafing
dishes atop a long serving table. On his right, the area had
been cleared to provide a dance floor, and in one of the
corners, the DJ—a skinny man in jeans and a leather blazer
who was in his midsixties—poked around, adjusting the
sound equipment, from which poured the jangling music.
The tempting aroma of the evening’s meal hit Eli suddenly,
a mixture of hot rolls and baked chicken and some lemony
dessert. He closed his eyes as his nervous stomach made
a small but impudent growl at having been ignored all day.
“Well, as I live and breathe. It’s Queen Eli.”
Eli’s neck stiffened at the old insult. He opened his
eyes and turned to his left, a snappish retort rising to his
lips. He froze upon catching sight of the sly grin on the
handsome face hovering across from him. “Garvin,” he said
in a flat, low rumble. “Garvin Mitchell.”
“Hey, friend. Great to see you.” Garvin spread his arms
in a warm, inviting gesture. Eli didn’t budge. Garvin tilted
his head to one side, his grin getting bigger. “Come on,” he
wheedled, motioning with his fingers for Eli to come
forward. “It’s been twenty years. Can’t we at least be civil?”
Eli hesitated. What the hell, he thought, sighing. He
had mostly come here for information, and he had to start
gathering it somewhere. He stepped into Garvin’s
embrace. They hugged firmly, each clapping a hand
against the other’s shoulder. Then they each stepped back,
exchanging long, appraising looks.
Garvin’s brown eyes twinkled, and his cheeks had a
nice glow from the cold. His dirty-blond hair had gotten
lighter, and he was more solidly built than Eli remembered.
Though hardly fat, the tight swimmer’s body of Garvin’s high
school days had thickened, and his middle was beginning
to bulge. The extra weight looked good on him, however. It
gave him a bearish look that would have had every twink on
the West Coast drooling after him. Eli felt a brief rush and
realized he still found the guy very attractive.
“I officially hate you,” Garvin said, his bright eyes
squinting playfully with faux disgust. “You look even hotter
than you did in high school. How the hell did you manage
that?”
Eli snorted. “You thought I looked good back then?
What were you smoking in those days, man? Weed or
crack?” And then he got it. “Wait. You
liked
me way back
when? You wanted me the way I wanted you?”
Garvin nodded, his smile tinted with a bit of
embarrassment. “Guilty as charged. There were a bunch of
other guys around school who turned me on too. But you
were the only one I actually thought about coming on to. You
were a skinny kid, sort of cuddly, not… intimidating.”
“Thanks. I think. But… you cursed me to hell and back
when I came on to you. You outed me to the whole school.”
Garvin winced sharply. “Yeah, not my best moment in
life. That’s for damn sure. Sorry, man. I was deep in denial
about myself back then, and I was terrified at the idea of
anyone even suspecting I was gay. Turning on you was a
rotten thing for me to do.”
Another realization hit Eli. “You’re ShyBoy. And from
the screen name, I take it you’re still playing coy when it
comes to your gay side.”
“Oh, no. I’m completely out of the closet these days. It
took going through college and two bitterly disappointed
girlfriends to get here, but I finally made it. My partner and I
have been together for eleven years now.”
“You’ve got a partner? Get out.” Eli looked around the
room. “Is he here?”
“No. He’s a sergeant. The army has him on a three-
month deployment in South Korea. His name’s Raymond.
He’s a great cook.” Garvin patted his belly. “As you can
see.”
“You look great,” Eli said. “How did you meet this guy?”
“My kid brother was a knothead, kept getting himself
kicked out of school and giving our parents heartache.
When he turned twenty-one, he was still lazing around the
house, drinking beer, playing video games, and making
excuses for not finding work. So I took him down to sign up
with the army, and guess who was working the recruiting
desk that day.”
“Was it love at first sight?”
“Pretty much. The attraction was definitely there. We
kept staring at each other the whole while my brother was
going through the sign-up. By the time I left there, Raymond
had our first date lined up.”
“Shit. A military man. I’m jealous.”
“Don’t be. I’m just a fat schmo selling insurance for a
living. You’re a famous big city author. You wouldn’t trade
your life for mine.”
“The romance part of it sounds pretty damn good to
me.” Eli let his eyes wander the room again.
“He’s never come to any of our dances,” Garvin said.
“And he was a no-show at the last class reunion.”
“Who was?”
“Murphy.”
“Oh, I wasn’t looking for him,” Eli lied. That was exactly
what he had been doing. He had been hoping since he got
off the plane that he would catch a glimpse of Kevin Murphy
somewhere.
“Come on,” Garvin said, gesturing toward a door at the
east end of the hall. “Let’s get someplace where we can sit
down. You want something to drink? Coffee or a soda?
There’ll be a bar, but the bartender we hired hasn’t arrived
yet to set up.”
“Some coffee would be great.”
They crossed the hall and stepped through the door,
entering a small conference room. A long table of polished
oak dominated the room, surrounded by black leather-
upholstered office chairs. At one end of the table, papers
and pens were scattered around an open laptop. Next to
the laptop was a coffeemaker, the cask half-filled with a hot,
dark brew that perfumed the air. On the floor beside the
chair at that end stood a small ice chest. On top of the
chest were an empty can of Red Bull and a little stack of
Styrofoam cups.
“My home away from home,” Garvin said as he settled
into the chair of his makeshift office. “Excuse the mess. I
was just working up the accounting for tonight’s little
shindig.” He gathered the papers into a disheveled pile and
pushed it aside. “Have a seat. How do you take your
coffee?”
“Black.” Eli seated himself in the chair to Garvin’s left.
Garvin grabbed two cups and filled them, passing one
to Eli. “None of us have seen Murphy since graduation,”
Garvin said, picking up their earlier thread of conversation.
“The speculation is that he left town and never looked back,
but I think he’s still here. That girl he fooled around with
certainly is, what’s her name…. I can’t remember.”
“Brittany,” Eli supplied. He wondered if the eagerness
he felt for details about Murphy’s post-high school life
shone in his eyes or something.
“Yeah. I heard that she lives in a little house just a
couple of blocks over from her parents’ home. As far as I
know, she never married, at least not in the wedding
announcement white-dress-in-a-church-with-reception sort
of way. That’s one of the reasons I’m convinced old
Murphy’s still around. If he weren’t, I’m sure a hot chick like
that would have found another man.” Garvin took a gulp of
coffee. A wry smile twisted his mouth as he swallowed.
“You want to talk about jealous? I was downright green-
eyed over you in high school. Murphy was one of the hottest
guys around, if not
the
hottest, and you bagged him—”
Eli held up a hand. “Wait. You’re presuming things
about Murph and me.”
“Eli,” Garvin said flatly, “everyone knew there was
something going on between you two. We could see it.”
“Look, just because—”
“I saw the way he looked at you, guy. You can’t fake
that kind of emotion. Murph was crazy for you.”
“He… what? Wait a second.” Eli briefly closed his
eyes, trying to get a grip on what he’d just heard. “You
caught Murphy staring at me? That can’t be. Murph barely
even spoke to me when we were in school.”
“Maybe not, but you know that old saying about one
look and a thousand words. I’d see you two pass each
other in the hall, or sometimes you guys would be sitting at
opposite sides of the classroom, and when you weren’t
looking, Murphy would practically eye-fuck you. I could see
how excited you’d get when Murph came near, even though
you tried to hide it. But that was nothing compared to the
way Murphy looked at you. Whatever you were putting down
on the guy, it had him smoking hot for you.”
A little shudder ran down Eli’s spine. Had Murphy’s
feelings for him been even deeper than he’d known? It
made his heart hurt to think of the life they could have had
together. But there was no point to what-ifs. Taking a deep
swig of coffee, he shrugged off the painful thoughts. “Hey,
the guy couldn’t have been all that hot for me,” he said with
a bitter laugh. “In the end, he left with the girl, didn’t he?”
“Maybe,” Garvin said. “But along with the envy, I
admired you. It took some balls to even get involved with
Murphy. He was bad news back then. None of us could
really put a finger on just what it was about him, but we
knew he was dangerous.”
T
HE
party was an unqualified blast. Nearly a hundred
people showed up. Eli was gratified to have long-standing
suspicions about certain of his old classmates confirmed
and shocked at the revelation of others he had been sure
were anything but gay. He exchanged condensed
biographies with them all, made new acquaintances, ate a
sumptuous dinner, danced for nearly an hour with a half-
drunk alumnus ten years his junior, and had a sip of
champagne with the rest of the crowd to ring in the New
Year.
All the while, he carefully observed the younger alumni,
sizing them up. Shortly after midnight, while waiting in line
to make use of the men’s room, he caught sight of a young
man he had talked with earlier in the evening. Of average
height and build, the young guy, who’d graduated from
Forest Lake High only three years ago, had a mop of
shaggy brown hair, pretty hazel eyes, and a pert little butt
that Eli thought was custom-made for spanking. Leaning
against the wall with a can of beer in his hand, the kid
flashed an inviting smile.
Eli waved him over. The kid peeled away from the wall
as eagerly as a puppy. “Hey, Pa,” he said as he joined Eli.
“I was hoping we’d get a chance to talk again.”
“Yeah, me too.” The kid was radiating pure lust, and he
would make a nice, easy fuck, but that wasn’t what
interested Eli. The kid was an auto mechanic who’d been
laid off seven months ago and was struggling to make ends
meet. “So tell me. If I were in need of quick cash but
couldn’t get a bank to even lend me a calendar, where
would I go around here for a loan?”
Chapter Five
H
IS
cell phone rang on the seat beside him. He reached
over, grabbed it, and looked at the caller ID. Against his
better judgment, he answered anyway. “Hey, Sandy. What’s
up?”
“I am having my toes sucked by the sexiest man in the
world.”
“Ew.”
“So how was the dance?”
Eli quickly shifted the phone to his left hand, putting it
to his left ear. “It was great. I actually had a good time.
Caught up with old friends, made some new ones.” With his
right hand, he resumed jotting notes on the little yellow pad
in his lap, which wasn’t easy even with the steering wheel
raised to its maximum height. He had left his laptop at the
hotel, thinking it best not to bring pricey electronics into this
part of town. “And no, Murphy did not show up.”
“Too bad. But the dance was a nice warm-up to the
reunion, huh?”
“I guess.” The pad slipped off his knee. He mouthed a
curse, catching it before it could drop to the floorboard.
“You sound distracted,” said Sandy. “What’re you
doing?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re lying. What are you doing?”
“
Nothing
.” Eli cringed at how obvious the lie sounded
to his own ears. Sandy was as adept at spotting his fibs
and fudges as his mom had been. “I’m just making a few
notes.”
“Oh, for God’s sake. Eli, tell me you are
not
out there
on one of your witch hunts.”
“Okay, I’m not. Happy now?”
“You’re on vacation, you idiot. This is New Year’s Day.
You’re supposed to be having a good time.”
“I am. In fact, I’m having such a good time that I can’t
talk at the moment. I’ll have to call you back, sugar. Tell
Sean I said hello. Bye.”
“Don’t you dare hang up in my face—”
Eli disconnected the call. After turning off his phone, he
tossed it aside. He felt pleased with himself. He hadn’t
been in town twenty-four hours yet, and he’d already
gathered enough information to confirm that the loan-
sharking business of Kevin Murphy’s father was still in full
operation.
He was in the southeastern section of St. Louis in a
seedy, run-down neighborhood on the outskirts of
downtown known locally and informally as Devil’s Alley. He
was parked on Grainger Street, half of a block down from a
square brick building with cracked walls and “Byron’s
Emporium” in dark-blue letters across the big front window.
This was where Leon Landry, the hot-to-trot kid from the
party last night, had directed him.
Following Leon’s instructions, Eli had gone in roughly
an hour ago and told the clerk at the cash register that he
needed to see Mr. Vickers. The clerk had pressed a button
under the counter, and seconds later, a small, natty man in
a dark-gray suit emerged through a door to the right of the
cash register. Mr. Vickers had scowled at Eli for nearly a
minute without saying a word, so Eli figured it was up to him
to get the ball rolling and announced that he was there for a
loan but had no collateral. When Mr. Vickers asked who
had sent him, Eli had given Leon Landry’s name. (Leon had
advised Eli the man took new customers only by referral.)
With that, Mr. Vickers had impatiently waved Eli into his
office.
There was no desk. Just a sofa and recliner oriented
toward a thirty-two-inch flat-screen television and, in the
middle of the room, two simple folding chairs facing each
other. Mr. Vickers had sat in one chair and pointed Eli
toward the other. After they were both seated, Mr. Vickers
had waited until Eli said he needed five thousand dollars.
Mr. Vickers explained the terms, which included an
exorbitant interest rate over the life of the loan, to be paid
with the principal on the due date. When Eli demurred, Mr.
Vickers had stood up at once and pointed at the door,
snapping that the terms weren’t negotiable. Eli had taken
his cue and left.
After a drive around the block, he had parked and
staked out the place. An Internet search on his cell phone
had revealed that the business license for Byron’s
Emporium was held by a David Ramsey, a name that
meant nothing to Eli and required more research. Before
delving into that, Eli had done a search of property records
and discovered that the owner of the building that housed
the store was Jameson Murphy Enterprises, LLC. Eli
figured the “emporium” was just a cover for one part of the
senior Murphy’s shady loan operations. But he wanted to
go to the police with something more than just his own
observations. He wanted some kind of hard evidence, or a
witness, to ensure a police investigation and grand jury
proceedings.
Jameson Murphy wanted his son to be an enforcer in
the family enterprise. To that end, he had routinely and
savagely kicked the shit out of teenaged Kevin, who balked
every time he was ordered to maim a sap who failed to
meet the terms of a business deal. Held down by two of his
father’s goons, Kevin couldn’t fight back, and the beatings
got so brutal that he had no choice but to do as his father
ordered. He broke limbs, hammered nails into knuckles,
and yanked out fingernails with pliers, actions that left him
so wracked with remorse afterward that he could only curl
up like a fetus in Eli’s bed and cry himself to sleep. Eli
would be surprised if Kevin was still in town. In high school,
the guy’s biggest dream was to move to some distant state
and get the hell away from his father for good.
But if Eli had his way, Jameson Murphy was finally
going to pay for his crimes. Eli was certain that he could
turn up at least one witness, possibly more. Leon Landry
was a good prospect, although by his own account he had
repaid his loan without suffering any injurious prompts. As
soon as Eli had sufficient evidence, he would go straight to
the police. He grinned at the thought.
Jameson Murphy maintained such a low profile he
was, for all intents and purposes, non-existent. Eli’s Internet
searches of local birth, death, and criminal records under
the man’s name had turned up nothing beyond his listing as
father on Kevin’s birth certificate. There was no record that
Jameson ever married Kevin’s mother who, Eli was
saddened to learn, died shortly after childbirth. (Kevin had
refused to talk about his mother in high school.) Similarly,
aside from a brief
Post Dispatch
article twelve years ago
about the state’s exercising eminent domain over a small
parcel of riverfront property personally owned by Jameson
Murphy, there was no mention of the man in any local
newspaper or television newscast. The senior Murphy was
obviously very skilled at keeping himself off the radar, and
Eli knew he had a lot of digging to do.
Ten minutes later, Eli watched as a prostitute rounded
the corner at the end of the block and tottered down to the
emporium on heels so tall just the sight of them produced
sympathy aches in Eli’s own back. She wore a form-fitting
silver lamé dress with her cleavage bulging at the top, black
fishnet stockings, a thin (and obviously fake) fur stole, and
nothing else. Arms wrapped tightly around her torso,
shoulders hunched, she shivered mightily as she ducked
into the store.
She was the third prostitute Eli had seen enter the
store in the time he’d been parked there. The first two, who
had also been insufficiently attired against the brutal winter
cold in the interest of highlighting their wares, had entered
together almost thirty minutes ago. They had exited hastily
perhaps a minute later, high heels mincing across the
slushy sidewalk as though they were being chased by
barking dogs. Eli had made note of it, thinking wryly that
even a crooked operation like Byron’s Emporium
apparently had its standards.
Now, watching as this third sex worker fled back into
the street, he was convinced there was something more
going on. As the woman turned and headed back the way
she had come, looking offended and frightened, Eli started
his engine. He waited until she rounded the corner, then
drove off to follow.
He realized she was heading toward downtown. There
was probably a strip down there where the working girls
strutted their stuff. He pulled alongside her and rolled down
his window, inching along at her pace. “Hey, lady.”
“Fuck off,” the woman snapped without so much as a
glance in his direction, her face full of irritation now. He
could see that the flyaway mass of blond hair on her head
was a wig badly in need of styling. Her scalp was probably
the only warm part of her body.
“I work for Mr. Murphy.” Eli said this with the intention of
coaxing her into a conversation, thinking that she had been
seeking a quick loan and would open up to him if she
thought he was in a position to sway the sour Vickers. That
is, if she knew Jameson Murphy was the man behind the
emporium.
Before Eli could say another word, the woman stopped
walking and turned to him, her face blazing with sudden
alarm. Eli pulled over to the curb, and she hurried up to the
SUV. “I don’t know what happened to Tibo,” she gushed.
“None of us do. We worked straight through the night and
half the damn day, and he never showed, not once. I pulled
in almost eleven hundred. I can’t keep carrying that much
cash around. I get robbed of it and Tibo’ll kill me. I tried to
get that zombie Vickers to take it, and he practically threw
me out on my ass. I’m dead tired. I gotta get some rest if
I’m gonna be back out there tonight. You know where I can
find Tibo?”
Caught off guard by the outburst, Eli froze for a
second. The woman was around twenty-two, but a night and
a half of hooking, on top of her agitation, left her looking
anything but fresh and youthful. He recovered quickly.
“Babe, I got no clue where Tibo is,” he said coolly. “I keep
an eye on this end of Mr. Murphy’s operations. I don’t know
shit about what goes on anywhere else.”
“Well, somebody had better look in on things
downtown,” the woman huffed. “A bunch of boy hustlers
moved in on our turf last night. Who knows how much
business they snatched away from us? They stopped
almost as many cars as we did. I tried to tell one of them to
back off, to let him know who the hell he was fucking with,
and the bastard yanked my hair off. Tibo’s supposed to
protect the territory, not me.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you.” Eli affected a
lazy drawl, slipping further into character. “Tibo doesn’t do
his job, that’s a cap in his ass.”
“Sure, and then we’ll get stuck with somebody even
worse than him.”
“What’s your name, sweet cheeks? And I mean your
real name, not your work name.”
The woman hesitated, and Eli could see in her gaze
that she was trying to work out what was behind his sudden
flirtation. “It’s Rosie,” she said cautiously. “Rosie Yates.”
“Well, Rosie, maybe I’ll swing by some night and take
you out for a drink. I’ll pay for your time off the clock. It’ll be
some of the best money I ever spent.” He winked at her and
drove off before she could respond.
Eli turned right at the corner and hung another right at
the next corner, heading for the expressway that would take
him back to his hotel. His mind was racing far faster than
the SUV. So old man Murphy wasn’t just a loan shark. He
was running a prostitution ring, as well.
That was another nail Eli would drive into his coffin.
Chapter Six
T
HE
detour was a spur-of-the-moment lark.
Eli had just passed Bridgeton, on the highway to
Forest Lake, when he spotted the ice-streaked green sign
informing him that the Kingsway Memorial Gardens was
one of the destinations off the next exit. He hadn’t planned
on visiting the cemetery until later in the week, but the urge
to pay his respects was as strong as it was sudden.
He took the exit, driving north on County Road 176.
Fourteen years ago, the surrounding countryside had had a
definite rural flavor, boasting fields bristling with corn and
wheat or grazed by livestock. Now there seemed to be only
fast-food joints and gas stations as far as the eye could
see. The change in the landscape was so radical he almost
missed his turn.
He peeled off 176 onto Kingsway Road. At least this
was one section of the county that hadn’t been urbanized.
The sparse woodland he remembered was still there, the
thin, bare trees looking starkly skeletal against all the snow.
The road ended two miles down at the cemetery, which, it
seemed to Eli, the owners had tried to tuck carefully from
sight, the way some municipalities tried to hide porn shops
from tourists. Funny, he thought, how society was no better
at dealing with death than it was with sex. He drove through
the black wrought iron gates, past a dark gray sedan that
sat idling in front of the small building that housed the
cemetery’s office and chapel.
The man behind the wheel wore black shades, which
looked enormous on his narrow face. His gaze followed Eli.
After driving past him, Eli glanced in the rearview mirror
and saw the guy pull the sedan away from the building and
follow. A visitor who had hoped to get information and
found the office closed for the holiday, Eli guessed. Maybe
the guy had decided to try to find whatever grave he was
looking for himself.
Eli knew precisely where he was going. He drove the
short distance down from the entrance to the point where a
small brook wound close to the road. After pulling off to the
side, he shut off the engine, barely aware of the gray sedan,
which continued past him and disappeared around the
bend. He zipped his jacket up to his neck, pulled a wool
cap over his head, climbed out of the SUV, and walked
over to the squat, cross-shaped headstone bearing his
parents’ names.
Hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, he stood
over the snow-blanketed grave, staring down. Except for
himself, all that remained of his parents was buried six feet
down. Coming here always heightened his longing for
children of his own. If he didn’t have at least one kid, his
family line would end with him. Of course, the devil was in
the logistics. Aside from finding a surrogate and getting her
through the pregnancy, he wanted to raise his kid with a
partner, someone who would love the child as much as he
would. But in all the years since high school, he hadn’t
come anywhere near falling for another man.
These days, he loved Sandy more than anyone else in
his life. Two years ago, she had suggested that they have a
child together. She had even gone so far as to have her
gynecologist recommend a fertility specialist to handle the
artificial insemination, as neither she nor Eli wanted to take
any chances with the conception. It would have been a
perfect situation. The child would have been nurtured by
both natural parents. But now Sean was in the picture, and
that complicated things to the point where Eli no longer
considered having a baby with Sandy even if she and Sean
both agreed to it. He didn’t want to risk affecting her
relationship with Sean in any way.
Eli stared at his parents’ names, carved in the stone.
He could feel that familiar pang blossoming in his chest.
You’d think after all these years he wouldn’t miss them as
much. Time had tempered his grief, but the feeling of loss
would never go away, it seemed. His father’s loud, choppy
laugh echoed distantly in his head, along with the sweetly
soft tones of his mother’s singing. A flood of memories
rose up, and he let it wash over him, smiling sadly as it
pushed back his loneliness.
T
WENTY
minutes later, Eli was still hunched over his
parents’ headstone, reminiscing, when he heard a car
approaching on the road behind him. He should get on
back to the hotel now. He was chilled to his bones. Maybe
he would stop by a liquor store and pick up a nice bottle of
brandy. He wanted a hot bath, followed by a hot toddy. It
would be good to follow that with some hot man sex, but
you can’t have everything. He had planned to drive
downtown that night to pick up Rosie and pump her for
information
about
Jameson
Murphy’s
sex-for-sale
operation, but for the time being he’d lost the inclination to
snoop. Hell, maybe he would just lock himself in his room,
get drunk, and cry his eyes out all night.
He heard a car door open and shut, followed by the
crush of footsteps on snow. After wiping away the tears
flickering on his eyelashes, he shoved his hands back into
his pockets and started whispering his good-byes to his
parents.
“Eli?”
Startled, Eli turned, wondering who the hell would know
him out here.
The man standing there had the strapping body of a
teenaged jock, dressed in jeans, boots, and a black
shearling jacket. He wore no cap, and his straight black
hair, cut short, fluttered in the winter breeze. Despite faint
lines around the mouth and eyes, his face was just as
youthful and handsome as Eli remembered. Still, some part
of Eli’s mind balked, refusing for the moment to accept
what he was seeing. “Murphy? Kevin Murphy?”
Gladness brightened Murphy’s eyes, although the
emotion didn’t appear to reach his mouth. He didn’t smile.
“I can’t believe it’s you. When did you get back?”
“Yesterday.” Eli paused before saying anything else,
trying to get a handle on what he was feeling. He was
excited in more ways than one to see his high school
boyfriend again, but there was an undercurrent of fury too.
He tamped down his emotions. “This is the last place I
would have expected to run into you.”
“I know,” Murphy replied. “It’s strange, seeing you here
after all these years.”
Murphy’s body shifted, and he seemed unsure of
himself. Eli found that attitude endearing, and he got angry
with himself for it. He didn’t want to like this guy right now,
not with so much unresolved between them. But this was
Murphy, his beautiful, brooding, tender, and wounded
Murphy. As righteous as his anger was over being dumped
for a girl and losing all chances of a life with the only guy
he’d loved, the rage was quickly being drowned in the
growing rush of sexual chemistry that was heating up his
groin even in the deep early-afternoon cold. The man
Murphy had become was just as hot as the high school
version Eli had loved.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Murphy said again, his
voice full of childlike wonder. “I was just on my way to get
some lunch. When are you going to be done here?”
“I was about to leave now.” Eli stepped away from his
parents’ grave, edging back toward his SUV. He figured it
was time for a hasty retreat. If he stood there much longer,
he was either going to grab Murphy and suck the lips off his
face or punch him dead in the mouth. The two impulses
were equally strong, warring with each other for supremacy.
Maybe Sandy had the right idea. Maybe he should have
prayed for the strength to refrain from throttling Murphy. He
turned and started striding purposefully away.
“Can I ride with you?”
Eli stopped in his tracks. It was the tone that got to him.
Soft, full of hurt, full of need, pleading. Murphy’s voice had
held that same tone on those occasions when his teenaged
self had made his way to Eli’s house and asked to come in,
his body battered, one side of his face red and hot and
swollen from his father’s blows. It broke Eli’s heart just as it
had done in the past.
Eli was afraid to turn back to Murphy. He had no idea
what would happen if he did, but he was certain it would be
something that should not occur beneath the high sun in the
snowy quiet of a cemetery. “Sure,” he heard himself reply
with a casualness he did not feel.
He started walking toward his rented vehicle again. He
spotted the gray sedan parked on the side of the road
ahead of him. The man wearing the shades was staring
past Eli at Murphy. The man abruptly turned, looking
straight ahead, then started the engine and drove slowly out
of the cemetery.
Eli continued on to the SUV. The long-lost Murphy
followed him, as close and scorching as a wildfire.
Chapter Seven
T
HEY
were both silent as Eli drove down 176 toward the
expressway.
There were a thousand questions swirling through Eli’s
brain, and he was afraid to ask any of them because he
wasn’t sure he could handle the answers. Murphy seemed
to be freezing; he had his arms wrapped around his chest,
hands tucked into his armpits, his knees knocking together
to generate warmth. Eli remembered how sensitive Murphy
was to the cold, how much he hated winter’s snap. Eli
reached down and turned the SUV’s heater up to full blast.
Murphy held his hands out to the vents, letting the hot
rush of air warm his skin. “You’re looking good, man,” he
said. “How ya been?”
“Fine.”
“Hey, I read your books.”
“Yeah? Which ones?”
“All of them. Some of those crooks you investigated
were into some sick stuff, man.”
“For sure.” Eli could hear how terse and flat his side of
the conversation was, but at the moment, he just couldn’t
invest much of himself in the exchange. If that hurt Murphy’s
little feelings, well, that was just too damn bad.
“I liked reading your stuff. You’re a great writer.”
“Thanks.”
“So what brought you back to town? You investigating
something here?”
“No,” Eli said quickly. “I came for the Forest Lake High
Gay and Lesbian Alumni Society’s New Year’s Eve dance.”
“Shit. I didn’t even know we had a Gay and Lesbian
Alumni Society.”
“Big surprise there.”
Eli saw the perplexed look Murphy gave him. He
turned his eyes back to the road.
“You pissed about something?” Murphy asked.
“No.”
“I think you are, man.”
“I said I’m not mad.”
Murphy stared at Eli, a long, appraising look.
“Something’s changed about you.”
“Yeah. I’m twenty years older than I was the last time
you saw me.”
“You don’t look like you’ve aged all that much. God.
Twenty years. Has it really been that long?”
“Time fucking flies when you’re having fun.”
Murphy paused. “Eli. Why are you so mad?”
“I told you before, I’m not angry. But you know what?
You’re pissing me off every time you ask me that question.”
Murphy raised his hands as if in surrender. “Okay. I got
it.” He put his head back against the headrest, looking at
Eli. “I thought about you a lot since we graduated. I’ve
Eli. “I thought about you a lot since we graduated. I’ve
missed you.”
“Okay, that’s it!” Eli spun the steering wheel, making a
sharp turn into the parking lot of a Chinese restaurant. After
putting the car into park, he whirled on Murphy. “You are un-
fucking-believable, man. Don’t you
dare
say you’ve missed
me. I didn’t walk out of your life. You dumped my ass like a
bag of garbage.”
“Oh. So that’s what you’re pissed about.”
Eli could feel his face burn as he got even angrier.
“Hell yes, I’m pissed about that! Do you have any idea how I
felt about you back then?
I. Loved. You.
And I’m not talking
about some teenage crush. I loved you with my whole heart.
I’d have done anything for you, given up anything for you.”
“I know that, Eli. It’s one of the things that made me
love you back.”
“Bullshit. That’s bullshit. You never gave a damn about
me.” Eli knew that to be untrue. Even in school, with Murphy
breezing past him in hallways and classrooms as if he
didn’t exist, he had been as certain of the guy’s love for him
as he was certain of his own name. But Murphy’s leaving
him hurt as much as the death of his parents had, and he
wanted now to fling some of that pain back at his former
boyfriend. “I was just a piece of ass to you, something you
could use when your goddamned girlfriend wasn’t
convenient.”
Murphy looked wounded. “You know you were more
than that to me, man. You were my first.”
“Yeah, the first person you screwed over.”
“Eli. Don’t say that.”
“What do you want me to say, then? That I’m glad to
see you? Well, I’m not. My whole life’s been fucked up
because of you. Thank you
very
much, Kevin Murphy.”
The pain on Murphy’s face intensified. His eyes
dropped from Eli’s, his fingers gliding back and forth
across one of the vents on the dashboard. “I’m sorry. I hate
that I made your life hard in any way, because I wouldn’t be
here right now if it weren’t for you. You helped me keep my
head together through some pretty rough shit. If it weren’t
for that, I’d have probably killed myself. Or I’d have gone to
jail for killing my father. I just couldn’t see that I had any
other options until I met you. To this day, you’re the best
thing that ever came into my life.”
“And that’s why you threw me away.”
“I didn’t throw you away,” Murphy said quietly, his voice
trembling.
“Really? Well, just what the hell would you call what you
did to me?” Eli’s eyes flared with indignation. Murphy was
the taller and stronger of the two, with broader shoulders
and bigger muscles. Even now, on the cusp of middle age,
he still had an air of quickness and menace about him, as if
he could reach out and snap a man’s neck with less time
and effort than it would take Eli to turn off a lamp. But there
he sat with his head down and shoulders hunched, as if
withering beneath the barrage of Eli’s ire. “On graduation
night, instead of saying adios to your fake girlfriend and
hopping the first train to New York with the best thing you
say ever came into your life, you told me you couldn’t be
with me anymore because you were staying with Brittany.
Any way you look at that, it all boils down to one thing: you
dumped me. You took out your trash graduation night, and I
was it.”
For several moments, Murphy did not move or speak.
“I have to tell you something,” he said at length, still without
looking at Eli.
“And what is that?” Eli snapped.
“You’re gonna hate me for this.”
Eli’s eyebrows went up incredulously. “More than I do
right now?”
Murphy winced at that. “My old man had no clue about
my being gay, not until he got up one morning and I was in
the kitchen in my underwear, making myself some
breakfast. He spotted a speck of blood on the back of my
boxers. I didn’t even know it was there until he got mad out
of the blue and asked me why the hell I was bleeding back
there. When he beat the crap out of me, he was always
careful not to break bones or draw blood, and I guess he
was afraid the last ass-kicking might’ve done some internal
damage. That was the morning after the first time you
screwed me, and my butt was still sore, so I knew right
away where the blood had come from.” Murphy’s fists
clenched. “I hated that man. I wanted to beat him down the
way he did me, but he always kept a bodyguard around,
even when we were at home. The only way I could hurt him
was with words. I knew how he felt about ‘flaming faggots’,
as he put it. So I looked him dead in the eye that morning
and told him my ass was bleeding because a guy with a
really big dick had popped my cherry, and I had loved every
minute of it.”
Eli was flat-out stunned, his mouth dropping open. He
had never mustered up the courage to come out to his own
father before the massive heart attack took him. And his
father had been nothing like the violent monster that was
Jameson Murphy. His rage at his old boyfriend gave way to
admiration—and horror, despite the fact that the certain
and awful repercussions from the confession had
happened over two decades ago. “Jesus, Murphy. Were
you out of your goddamned mind? The bastard could have
killed you for that.”
Murphy turned his head to Eli, a satisfied smirk turning
up one corner of his mouth. “He choked me unconscious
right there on the kitchen floor. But it was sure as hell worth
it just to see how pissed I got him.”
“You’re lucky all he did was choke you.”
The smirk vanished from Murphy’s face, replaced by
guilt. “That’s the point I’m getting to, man. It wasn’t all he
did. I didn’t know it at the time, but whenever I left the house
after that, he had somebody follow me. He found out about
you and what was going on between us.”
“Oh.” Eli blinked. “Oh, God.”
“From as far back as I could remember, I was always a
disappointment to that man. I was never what he wanted in
a son, but he was determined I was going to take over his
operations one day, just as I was determined I wouldn’t
have any part of that shit. Once he knew how I felt about
you, he had the kind of leverage with me he’d always
wanted. He told me I was going to stop the ‘faggy crap’, get
a girl, and be a fucking man or he’d kill you and your mom.”
After a moment of stunned disbelief, Eli’s rage came
blazing back, with Jameson Murphy as the sole focus. “That
bastard
!”
“I got the girl, like he wanted, and I started busting
heads for him, like he wanted. I brought Brittany home every
chance I got and fucked her right in my room where he
could hear every sound of it. But I was so in love with you by
that time, man, I couldn’t let you go. I thought if I convinced
him I was really into Brittany and did everything else that he
wanted, I could sneak around and keep seeing you. And for
a while, it worked.”
Eli waited. “But…?”
“I did my damnedest to make sure I wasn’t followed
when I came over to your place. But somehow he found out
I was still involved with you. You remember that night the
brakes gave out in your mom’s car, about a week before
graduation?”
“She rolled off the road into that shallow pond. It was a
miracle she came out of it without a scratch.”
“That was the same thing my father said to me. He
also said that she wouldn’t be so lucky the next time.”
Eli’s head swam. If he’d had a gun, he would have
tracked Jameson Murphy down right then and shot him in
the head. He closed his eyes, fighting to control his anger.
“I couldn’t let him hurt your mom,” said Murphy. “Or
you.”
“So you dumped me.” Eli could hear the familiar pain
in his own voice, but this time there was a lilt of gratefulness
as well.
M
URPHY
kept apologizing. “I’m sorry I almost got your
mother hurt, man.”
“Stop with the ‘sorry, sorry, sorry’, okay. That was your
old man’s doing, not yours.” They were on the expressway
now, heading toward Forest Lake. Eli kept his eyes on the
road and both hands on the wheel. His chest was still flush
with gratitude and affection for Murphy. “And thanks for
telling me what happened back then. I understand why you
did what you did, and I appreciate it. But why didn’t you tell
me all this then? There’s no way I would have let you walk
out of my life.”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you. Running away wouldn’t
have done you and me any good. Some of my dad’s men
would’ve come after us and dragged us back in the trunk of
a car. That’s the kind of evil we were facing in my father,
man. Even the major syndicate mobsters respected him
enough to stay off his turf. Don’t fool yourself, Eli. If you and I
had stayed involved, he’d have had you and your mom
killed. There’s no doubt about that.”
“So what happened with you after I left town?” After
graduation, Eli had gone away to college in New York and
then moved to California, determined never to set foot in
Forest Lake again. He had flown his mother out to Los
Angeles for their visits together, until she died.
“My father made me marry Brittany. It was a quickie
ceremony in the basement of my old man’s house. We
didn’t even have Brittany’s parents there. Dad didn’t think
any of the creeps in his organization would take me
seriously if they knew I was gay. He also wanted at least
one grandson to make sure there was someone to carry on
his ‘legacy’ after me. I got a vasectomy. There was no way I
was gonna watch him abuse any kid of mine the way he did
me.”
“What about Brittany?”
“We divorced six years ago. It was amicable. I gave
her a nice enough settlement to take care of her for the rest
of her life. We’re still friends. I told her everything up front
back in high school, gave her every chance to walk away,
but she wouldn’t. There’s a heavy price for loving me, I
guess. She knew how much I missed you, and she always
told me—begged me—to get a man in my life as long as I
played it safe. But I couldn’t take a chance that my father
would find out and put out a contract on the new guy the way
he threatened to do with you.”
“So you haven’t been with another man since high
school?”
“No.”
“God, Murphy, you’re breaking my heart here.” Eli
rolled his head miserably. “I’ve been whining about how
wretched my life’s been since you walked out of it, and
that’s nothing compared to what you’ve been through.”
“I’m not complaining about my life,” Murphy said. “You
have to play the cards fate deals to you. I do some behind-
the-scenes stuff with all kinds of charities. That’s how I
spend a lot of my time now. It makes me feel that I’m
atoning a little for the wrong I’ve done. Plus, it makes me
happy. I’m luckier than I deserve to be.”
“Don’t say that about yourself. You’re a good man.”
Murphy said nothing to that.
Chapter Eight
T
HEY
stopped at a liquor store down the street from the
hotel. Eli picked up a bottle of French cognac and a couple
of snifters, while Murphy made a trip to the drugstore next
door. Ten minutes later, they were tucked away in Eli’s
room.
“Here, let me take your coat,” Eli offered.
“Thanks,” Murphy said. He took off the shearling jacket.
Beneath it he wore a white mock turtleneck that, Eli couldn’t
help noticing, clung enticingly to his shapely torso. He
handed his jacket to Eli, who hung it in the closet with his
own.
“Nice room,” Murphy remarked, scooping up the two
snifters and the bottle of brandy and sauntering toward the
freshly made bed.
“Yeah, it’s not bad,” Eli agreed, “especially considering
that I booked it practically at the last minute.” He enjoyed
the sight of the dark-blue jeans so nicely draped over
Murphy’s slender, gliding hips and butt.
Murphy sat on the edge of the bed. Looking at Eli, he
raised the brandy. “You gonna pour, or should I?”
Eli was still dressed in the clothes he’d worn to the
party last night. After leaving Hunters Lodge, he’d gone to a
gay club in Bridgeton with some of his fellow alumni. Then
he’d gone to a coffee shop to read the local newspaper
and drink espresso, and from there he’d headed into
Devil’s Alley to begin his stakeout. He probably smelled
like old cigarette smoke. His body should have been on the
verge of crashing by now, but he felt oddly energized. “I’m
gonna get a shower first. You said something about lunch.
Why don’t you call room service?”
“Maybe I will.”
Eli knew he had Murphy’s full attention, and he wanted
to put on a show for him. He peeled off his turtleneck,
followed by the T-shirt beneath, and tossed them into a little
heap inside the closet, deliberately flexing the muscles in
his arms and chest with every move. After untying his boots,
he kicked them off and unbuttoned his jeans. He slid the
pants down slowly and stepped out of them, flinging them
onto the closet floor. Then he stood there in front of Murphy
wearing just his socks and his boxers.
Murphy’s stare was glazed with hunger. “Shit. You’re
definitely not the skinny kid I remember, man.”
Grinning, Eli struck an exaggerated pose. “I’ll be back
in five minutes.” He hurried into the bathroom and shut the
door.
He turned on the water in the tub, making it as hot as
he thought he could stand, and then he slipped off his
socks. As he yanked down his boxers, his hard dick
popped up and slapped against his abdomen like a board.
His desire and weakness for Murphy were still there.
Everything in him wanted to walk back into that
bedroom, yank off the man’s clothes, and take him right
there, right now. And he told himself how stupid that would
be. After their talk in the SUV, he had finally reached a
semblance of peace with the way Murphy had left him.
What point was there in rekindling the sexual part of their
relationship? That would just call Jameson Murphy’s
attention to him at the very time he needed to be as low-key
as possible. He was in the process of bringing the creep
down, and getting a contract put on his head for sexing up
the man’s son would definitely gum up that effort. And while
he had no doubt Kevin Murphy would gladly give up a
kidney for the pleasure of seeing his father hauled off to jail,
Eli had no idea of the extent to which Kevin was enmeshed
in Jameson’s organization. The last thing he wanted was to
see Murphy go down with his bastard of a father. And even
if he did manage to somehow insulate Murphy once the
proverbial shit hit the fan, he’d be going back to Pasadena
when it was over. Either way, he’d be losing Murphy all over
again.
No, he told himself. Better to just take a shower, get
fully dressed, share a drink and maybe a sandwich with the
man, and then send him on his way.
He felt at ease now, having reached the most rational
decision. The charge seeped steadily from his crotch,
letting his cock settle down once more. He brushed his
teeth. After twisting the cap off his bottle of mouthwash, he
took a big swig and swirled it around his mouth before
spitting it into the sink. By his reflection in the mirror, he
knew he needed a shave, but that could wait until later. He
grabbed a hand towel and the small complimentary bottle
of bath gel and pushed back the shower curtain. Just as he
was about to step into the tub, the door opened behind him.
He turned.
Murphy stood there. He was naked, beaming a little
smile that was shy and afraid. His body, though still lean,
was much more defined than it had been in high school. His
abs looked like fleshy cobblestones. His biceps, shoulders,
and pecs had a chiseled, hard appearance. His chest and
stomach were hairier than Eli remembered, and the thin
beard gave his youthful face solidity. The fine lines age had
sketched around his dark-green eyes and the sides of his
generous mouth only enhanced his good looks. Eli’s eyes
wandered lower, and there, draped almost languidly over
the low-hanging, purplish mass of Murphy’s balls was the
long, uncut cock that still haunted Eli’s dreams. The sight of
it was all it took to bring Eli’s own dick raging back to
attention.
Murphy stepped forward, and Eli took an involuntary
step backward. “Wait—” Eli began.
Murphy put a finger to Eli’s lips, silencing him. Murphy
took another step forward, forcing Eli to step back, into the
tub. Murphy stepped in after him and pulled the shower
curtain, shutting them away in the hot, cozy spray of water.
The water pelted Eli’s back. He saw Murphy’s eyes
close as he leaned in, rubbing his hairy chin along Eli’s
cheek. He felt Murphy’s erect nipples press lightly, teasingly
against his chest. Murphy’s ass jutted back, making the
necessary space for his cock to rise up. In only seconds,
their dicks were pointing at each other like cannons on a
battlefield.
Eli whimpered as it all came rushing back, the wild,
hungry urge to do whatever it took to satisfy this man he
loved more than any other on earth. And yet he held back,
afraid to even reach out and touch the body he had yearned
for all these years.
Murphy apparently had no such reservations. He
moved in closer, their dicks mashing upright between their
bellies. Eli shuddered when he felt first Murphy’s lips, then
Murphy’s teeth, nibbling at his left earlobe. He shuddered
again when the tip of Murphy’s tongue went circling the
flange of his ear before plunging inside. And the sudden
warmth of Murphy’s fingers slipping around Eli’s cock sent
a burst of ecstasy racing up his spine so sharply it made
him gasp.
As his fingers tightened around Eli’s dick, Murphy slid
his lips slowly from Eli’s ear, across his cheek, to his
mouth. He kissed Eli. Eli whimpered against Murphy’s lips.
Sweet Jesus, how he had missed this man, how he still
loved him! His passion took over, his tongue shoving its
way into Murphy’s mouth. He brought his hand up, slipping
it around the back of the man’s head and smashing their
lips together.
Murphy’s left hand slid up and down Eli’s back. After a
moment, he broke from the kiss, skimming his chin along
the right side of Eli’s face. With his right hand, he rubbed
the cup of his palm slowly and hard over the head of Eli’s
dick. Eli almost doubled over from the spastic pleasure of
it, a deep groan rumbling in his chest. It seemed that
Murphy had forgotten none of the little tricks from their high
school days.
Murphy’s lips gently brushed against the trembling Eli’s
right ear. “Did you miss me?” he whispered. “Tell me you
missed me.”
“Yesss!” Eli hissed urgently. “I missed you so much.”
T
HEY
stood in the bathtub beneath the jetting water, locked
in a tight embrace, kissing almost brutally as steam filled
the air. Murphy’s hands started to move again, and
suddenly they seemed to be everywhere at once. Eli felt
them massaging foamy lather down his back and over his
butt, slipping between his cheeks to probe and plunder. He
jerked his mouth away from Murphy’s to gasp “Oh, yeah!”
as first one finger, then another, slid into him. A good
minute of finger-fucking passed before Murphy pulled out
and slapped both hands firmly against Eli’s wet, bare ass.
Murphy slowly knelt, lips kissing and sucking, teeth
nipping, sparking little bursts of delight all over Eli’s chest
and belly. Wracked with erotic spasms, Eli barely noticed
as Murphy squeezed more bath gel into his palm, worked
up another big mass of lather, and began kneading the
suds up and down Eli’s legs. At the same time, he felt
Murphy’s chin rub back and forth, softly and slowly, along
the shaft of his rigid cock. The sensations blended together
into a maddening tease that had Eli’s fingers digging into
Murphy’s shoulders.
Minutes later, Murphy stood upright again, took Eli by
the shoulders, and turned him. Eli closed his eyes as
Murphy nestled in close behind him. He heard the
plop
of
more bath gel hitting Murphy’s palm, heard those powerful
hands rub together once more. Then Murphy’s hands were
working lather over his chest and stomach. He could feel
Murphy’s dick spearing up his lower back, as hefty as a
nightstick.
As Murphy’s left hand continued to massage and
cleanse, his right hand came down and grabbed Eli’s cock.
With deliberate, measured strokes, he worked Eli’s dick
until Eli rose up on tiptoe, his body going rigid, and
moaned, “I’m gonna come!”
As if he had been waiting for those words, Murphy
abruptly released Eli. He turned and shut off the water, then
stepped out of the tub. Grabbing a towel, he quickly began
drying off. “Come on,” he said over his shoulder as he
drifted into the bedroom. “Now that you’re clean, I’m gonna
get you dirty again.”
Eli grabbed a towel. He dried himself hurriedly, lust
raging through him like a tornado. He had screwed around
with guys of every variety over the past twenty years, some
of them fantastically handsome, some with gym-toned
bodies luscious enough to make them porn stars. Yet Eli
had never felt anything near the fiery passion coursing
within him now for Murphy. How the hell had he even lived
all this time without that beautiful man in his world? And how
could he ever let him go again?
He threw down the towel and rushed into the bedroom.
Murphy was lying facedown on the bed, his face turned to
one side, his eyes closed, calmly waiting. Eli stopped and
drank in the sight of him, the V-shape of the back and
shoulders, the narrow waist, the firm, round, finely haired
ass, the gorgeously muscled legs.
He’s mine again
, Eli
thought.
He’s all mine again.
Eli had brought no condoms with him; the last thing he
had expected to do on this trip was have sex. But there on
the bed beside Murphy was a box of Trojans and a tube of
KY. The sight of them got Eli’s heart racing even harder. He
slid onto the bed, climbing anxiously over Murphy’s naked
perfection. He rolled a condom over his cock and slathered
it generously with lube. Then he carefully massaged lube
into the crevice of Murphy’s ass.
The memory of his first time penetrating Murphy was
still vivid. Eli had been so young and inexperienced. While
his dick wasn’t as long as Murphy’s, it was still bigger than
average. He had plunged in too hard, too fast, drawing a
scream of pain from Murphy that made Eli flinch even now
as he remembered it.
In the twenty years since they’d last been together, Eli
had learned a thing or two about gay sex. He slipped his
lube-slicked finger between Murphy’s cheeks, finding the
puckered little hole within. Murphy’s entire body tensed at
the contact. Eli worked the finger in gradually, sliding it in
and out, loosening up the tight opening. All the while, he lay
with his head next to Murphy’s, gently and soothingly
kissing his face. He was going to take his time. He never
wanted to hurt this man again.
Eli pulled out his finger and grabbed his dick, guiding it
between the warm, firm mounds and down. He pushed with
steady but careful pressure. They both hissed when the
head of his cock slid inside Murphy. Eli paused, waiting for
Murphy’s ass to open up to him.
“Ram it in like the first time,” Murphy urged.
“I don’t want to hurt—”
Before Eli could finish, Murphy shoved his ass upward,
taking Eli’s cock deep inside himself. Murphy bit down into
the pillow with a muffled yell, eyes squeezed shut in obvious
pain. Eli lay over him and held still, letting him ride out the
burning ache. Within moments, Eli thought the pain must
have subsided, as Murphy began to move his hips beneath
him. He could feel the taut, strong muscle of Murphy’s ass
squeezing him again and again, drawing him in even
deeper. The sensation was at once familiar and new, like
trying on a favorite old coat and finding something
wonderful in the pocket.
Being inside Murphy again was like coming home.
Chapter Nine
“
T
HIS
is good whiskey,” Murphy said.
“Actually, it’s cognac.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Who cares?” A weary smile livened Eli’s face.
Murphy sat with his back against the bed’s headboard,
holding a near-empty snifter in one hand. Eli sat between
Murphy’s legs, his back resting against Murphy’s chest.
Eli looked at the clock on the nightstand. “It’s almost
five. Damn, we forgot all about lunch. Want to go
downstairs to the restaurant for some dinner?”
Murphy grinned woozily. “I don’t think I can walk.”
“Uh-oh. Sounds like somebody’s had too much
brandy.” Eli reached back and plucked the glass from
Murphy’s hand.
“It’s not the liquor.” Murphy’s grin turned randy. “You
been cowboying me for hours.”
“Ooh, Murphy, I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me
—”
“I’m not complaining. I like making you feel good.”
Murphy reclaimed the snifter and took another drink. “It’s
been a while since you had sex, huh?”
“No. But it’s been years since I made love.”
Murphy shuddered.
T
HEY
took another shower together, scrubbing each other
down with their hands. With a soapy fist, Eli grabbed
Murphy’s dick and started caressing it.
Murphy pulled away. “You don’t have to do that.”
Eli looked into his eyes. Murphy had not come once in
their entire session. In high school, he had loved having Eli
blow him, but both times Eli had tried to take him in his
mouth this afternoon, Murphy stopped him. “You sure?” Eli
asked with a bit of concern.
“Yeah. I’m okay.”
They dried each other off and returned to the bedroom.
Eli fell lazily back across the bed. Murphy started getting
dressed.
“You know I’m never letting you leave this hotel, don’t
you?” said Eli.
Murphy smiled sadly. “I missed a meeting this
afternoon. I have to go make nice.”
Eli wondered about the nature of that meeting but
decided not to ask. “What are you gonna be up to later? I
really would like to take you to dinner.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“Why not? I just want to talk.”
“And I’d like that just as much as you would, but it’s
dangerous for you to be around me.”
Eli sat up on the bed, frowning. “Just
how
would it be
dangerous for me?”
Fastening his jeans, Murphy gave Eli a sober,
unwavering look. “Do you really want to know?”
Almost instantly, Eli said, “No.” There was no reason to
have Murphy spell it out. The answer could be summed up
in one word: Jameson.
Eli watched as Murphy finished dressing and reached
for the shearling jacket. As Murphy shrugged into the jacket,
Eli saw for the first time the dark grip of a very large pistol
tucked into the jacket’s inner pocket.
After zipping up the jacket, Murphy met Eli’s eyes
again and froze, looking pained and resigned. “I’m glad I
ran into you again.”
“So this is it?” Eli asked. “We can’t see each other
after this?”
“It’s best that we don’t. I’m no good for you, Eli.”
“Why don’t you let me decide that?”
Murphy shook his head. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Eli slid off the bed and crossed the room, grabbing
Murphy in a rough, tight hug. When he let go, Murphy turned
without another word and walked out of the room, closing
the door softly behind him.
Eli grabbed clothes from his luggage and got dressed.
Then he paced the floor for several minutes, wanting to
make sure that he allowed time for Murphy to clear the
hotel’s premises. After pulling on his jacket, he grabbed his
gloves, pen, and notepad and rushed downstairs for his
SUV.
I
T
WAS
another cold but clear night. He found Rosie Yates
exactly where he’d expected: downtown St. Louis on Fifth
Street, known locally as “Whore Boulevard.” She was not in
a good mood.
“It’s fucking crazy down here,” Rosie snapped once
she’d climbed into the SUV. She wore a leopard-print
unitard under a black faux-leather coat and black high-
heeled boots. Her wig tonight was a shocking shade of red
so bright it verged on being orange. “Tibo’s a no-show
again. The gay hustler boys are coming on strong. Seems
that there are more of ’em tonight than there were last night.
And unlike us,
they’ve
got protection, and I’m not talking
about rubbers. According to a couple of our girls, pimps
from one of the Chicago mobs are backing them up.”
“I thought the other mobs steered clear of Mr. Murphy’s
territory,” Eli said.
“Yeah, well, your boss has been getting sloppy. He’s
not on top of things the way he should be. Word on the
street is that some of the people in his own organization
have been bought by some of the outside mobs and are
gonna put bullets in his head.” Rosie’s hand flew to her
mouth, her eyes going round with fear. “Oh, God. Why am I
telling you all this? Don’t go back and tell Mr. Murphy I said
any of this. Please. I’m already scared to death about
what’s going on around here.”
Eli gazed out the window. On one side of the dark
street were slim, leggy women in skimpy outfits, and on the
other were young guys in jeans and muscle shirts and
jackets. The prostitutes, male and female, were trolling the
many cars drifting up and down the street, trying to nab
customers. “This Chicago mob’s trying to start a turf war,”
Eli observed.
Rosie gasped. “What?”
“It’s obvious as hell. These Chicago people didn’t just
set up operation in another part of town. They did it right on
the same street where you ladies work. They’re doing
everything they can to slap Mr. Murphy in the face, trying to
get him to slap back.”
“Shit. I don’t want to be in the middle of that.” Rosie
pressed her hands to the sides of her face, looking
panicked. “You said you’d buy me a drink and pay for my
time. Remember.”
“Of course I do, sweet cheeks.”
“Then get me the hell out of here.”
T
HE
bar was perfect, as far as Eli was concerned. It was
small, tucked on a corner just outside of downtown, the
interior dim and intimate. There were only a few patrons;
most of its usual customers were probably all partied out
from last night. Eli sat with Rosie at a table in the back. Her
drink of choice was vodka on the rocks. It loosened her
tongue even more than her fear had.
Eli sipped Pepsi and let her ramble, only asking
questions to nudge her back on course when she began to
drift into topics irrelevant to Jameson Murphy’s operations.
“It can’t just be prostitution the Chicago mob’s bringing
in,” Rosie said, keeping her voice low as she huddled over
her glass. “Your boss is into a lot of crap—drugs, weapons,
gambling—”
“Wait a minute. How do you know that?”
“Some of the boys who handle the dope and
gunrunning like to come down when the girls are working.
They also like to brag. Think they ought to be able to dip
their wands for free just because they work for Mr. Murphy.”
“That’s sloppy,” Eli said, entirely to himself.
“That’s what I’ve been telling you. I’ve been working
Fifth Street since I was seventeen, and for years, I thought it
was just about Tibo and the girls. Then all of a sudden,
word gets out that there’s a mob boss behind Tibo, and that
the mob boss has got a finger in just about every illegal
operation in St. Louis. Now some other mob boss is trying
to move in here, and you’re telling me all this shit is about to
blow up.” She reached across the table and grabbed Eli’s
wrist. “If they start shooting it out right there on the street,
what’s gonna happen to me and the rest of the girls? I don’t
want to die.”
Eli knew a turf war would hardly be anything as blatant
as Rosie thought. It was more likely to involve a series of
targeted assassinations, with each side trying to take out
key operatives on the other until one side was so crippled it
had no choice but to fold. Jameson would obviously be a
primary target.
Eli knew he didn’t have to do a thing now to bring
Jameson down. The man must have gone senile in his old
age; he seemed to have lost the tight, careful control that
had kept his despicable life out of the news. The smart
thing for a man in his position would be to keep his various
criminal enterprises separate and at arm’s length. Low-
level drug dealers and hookers shouldn’t even know his
name, let alone his connection to other operations. If a cop
picked up, say, one of the streetwalkers some night, and
her lips were as loose as Rosie’s, Jameson would be
behind bars before he could pour his first cup of coffee.
And how had the evil old man gone from keeping the
bigger mobs afraid to even set foot in St. Louis to having
one of them practically camping on his doorstep? Jameson
should have been even more troubled by the fact that
someone working for the Chicago mob was likely to put
him in a grave before long. The idea brought bitter glee to
Eli, but there was also the possibility that Kevin would be
targeted too. Shit, maybe that was what Kevin was talking
about at the hotel. Maybe he knew what was coming. How
could he
not
know? He was right in the middle of it, working
for his father.
Better to get the police involved, Eli decided. He’d
rather see Kevin in jail than dead.
Eli took his Pepsi and Rosie’s vodka and set them to
one side. He leaned across the table. “Listen up, sweet
cheeks,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “We have to
look out for ourselves now.”
“And how are we supposed to do that?”
“Maybe it’s time for us to sing.”
“To the cops?” Rosie looked terrified. “Are you crazy?
Mr. Murphy would kill us.”
“Only if the Chicago boys don’t kill us first. Think about
it, Rosie. If we do nothing, we’re sure to die anyway when
the two mobs start going at each other. If we go to the cops,
at least we’ve got a chance of staying alive.”
“But… we’ll go to jail. I can’t go to jail again. I couldn’t
take it.”
“Baby, believe me, you will not go to jail. We’re small
potatoes. The cops want the guys at the top, the mob
bosses. They’ll give immunity and protection in exchange
for testimony about those guys.”
Hand shaking, Rosie grabbed her glass and took a
gulp of vodka. “What kind of testimony?”
“For us, that would be anything that ties Mr. Murphy to
his operations.”
“Shit. It’s better for me to just run. I’m getting too old for
this crap, anyway. I’ll leave town.”
That caught Eli off guard. It was a sensible option, and
he didn’t have a ready answer for it. “Okay, then why
haven’t you done that before?”
Rosie paused. “I did. Once. Back when I was nineteen.
Tibo sent somebody who tied me up and brought me back.
He kicked the shit out of me too.” She buried her face in her
hands. “God. What can we do?”
“We need some evidence for the cops.”
Rosie looked up at him. “Don’t you have any?”
“Nothing really solid. Can you point the finger at some
of those dealers and gunrunners you say have been fooling
around with you ladies?”
“I only know one of them by name. Zeph Baker. He
deals downtown with his boys. The rest I only know as Cool
Moe, Catman, and Big Baby. I don’t know where they
operate, but I can pick them out in a lineup.”
“Good, that’s good, Rosie. But the cops would still
have to connect a lot of dots before that would get them to
Mr. Murphy. We need something that ties directly to the old
man.”
“Well, I took the money up to his house this evening.”
Eli gave her a puzzled look. “What?”
“You remember my telling you how nervous the girls
and I were about being stuck holding all the cash we pulled
in New Year’s Eve? Since Tibo wasn’t around, I gathered it
all up, then I asked around to find out where I could take it to
turn it over. Zeph Baker’s been to Mr. Murphy’s house, so
he gave me the address, and I took the money there and
gave it to him.”
Eli almost jumped up from the table and broke into a
dance. “You saw him face to face? You actually handed the
money to Mr. Murphy?”
“Yeah. One of his men answered the door, I told him
why I was there, he frisked me and led me back to the
kitchen where Mr. Murphy was having his dinner, and I gave
him the cash. I can testify to that, if I have to.”
“Rosie, baby, I could kiss you.” Then he leaned over
and did just that, planting a big one on her forehead.
“What’s his address?”
Rosie told him.
And Eli froze.
A
FTER
giving her a hundred dollar bill, getting her cell phone
number and telling her to go about business as usual until
he called, Eli returned Rosie to Fifth Street. The battery in
his cell phone was low, so he drove back to the hotel. Once
in his room, he powered up his tablet and did an Internet
search of Forest Lake property transfers. It confirmed what
he had learned from Rosie.
The current owner of the grand old Queen Anne
Victorian house where Eli had grown up was Jameson
Murphy Enterprises, LLC.
Chapter Ten
A
T
LEAST
he knew now where to find Kevin Murphy.
Eli parked beneath a massive old oak tree just outside
the cul-de-sac where his old house sat. The shadows
beneath the tree afforded him cover, while he was left with
a clear view of the house’s front door. He had decided to sit
and watch for a while, hoping that he could catch Murphy
either on the way in or out. The risk he was taking was
foolish; he could just as easily be shot. But he had already
taken plenty of chances tonight, and this was the only
opportunity he would have of warning Murphy.
He had brought along his laptop. To pass the time, he
resumed polishing his latest manuscript. He would be
hearing from his editor soon, no doubt with another get-it-
to-me-yesterday deadline, and he hadn’t even looked at the
manuscript in nearly a week. This was a good occasion in
which to play catch-up.
He became engrossed in his work, as he usually did,
losing track of time. He still noticed, however, the instant
there was movement at the house. Looking up, he saw the
tall, lean figure of a man emerging through the front door,
pulling on a jacket. As the man came nimbly down the steps
and started crossing the snow-covered lawn, the metal gate
across the driveway began to slide open. But it was clear
that the man was not going to either of the cars parked in
the open garage. The man was heading straight for the
SUV.
Eli instinctively slumped behind the wheel, closing the
laptop and sliding it beneath his seat. He watched the man
step through the gate and walk down the street in long,
quick strides, his breath drifting in white blossoms on the
cold night air like puffs from a steam engine. Eli could read
anger in the man’s every step, and his mind began
screaming for him to start the engine and get the hell out of
there.
But he didn’t move. He just watched as the man
entered the shadows beneath the oak tree, marched right
up to the SUV, and banged on the driver’s window with his
fist. By then, Eli had gotten a good look at the man’s face.
It was Murphy.
Eli powered down the window, a trembling smile
breaking out on his face. “Hey, Mur—”
“What the hell are you doing here?” Murphy hissed at
him through his teeth.
“I need to talk to you.”
“You shouldn’t be here,” Murphy said in the same
breathlessly angry voice. “My guys were gonna shoot you
from the house, then come out and take your body off
somewhere to burn it. You’re lucky I looked out and saw it
was you.”
“Get in, Murphy. Please. Just for a few minutes. Then
I’ll go.”
Murphy snarled, a look of anxiety more that anger. He
hurried around to the passenger side of the SUV. As Eli
raised his window again and started to turn away, he
thought he caught a flash of movement toward the rear of
the house. He quickly looked back but saw nothing.
Murphy yanked open the door and climbed in. “How
did you find me?” he asked, pulling the door shut.
“It wasn’t hard. Everybody on the street knows your
address, it seems.” It wasn’t the most pertinent subject for
discussion, but Eli’s curiosity got the better of him. “Your
father bought my old family home?”
“No,
I
bought it. It was the only place I ever felt happy.”
Murphy cast a worried glance back at the house, then
looked at Eli with desperation. “What are you doing here,
man?” he asked again.
“You have to leave, get out of town. I’ve got enough
evidence against your father to get his ass taken down. But
I’ve got to act on it quickly. I can give you until morning
before I go to the police.”
Eli had anticipated a number of reactions from Murphy:
fear, hostility, gratitude, relief. Murphy’s face went blank, his
gaze drifting vacantly through the window, and Eli had no
idea how to read that. “Murphy?”
“I heard you,” Murphy replied indifferently. “Thanks for
telling me. Is that it?”
“No, that’s not it. We have to get you out of here.”
Murphy sighed. “I’m not going to run, Eli.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Eli snapped. “Is
this some kind of freaking loyalty to your father? Are you
seriously telling me you’re going to stand by that man? Or
you’re going back in there to fucking
warn
him? That
bastard deserves to go jail. For all the shit he’s done, he
deserves everything he’s got coming. But you don’t.”
Murphy turned to him. “Yes, I do.”
“No, you don’t. Every wrong you did was because your
father forced you. He’s the one who should pay for it, not
you.”
“Maybe I could have gotten away with that argument
when I was a kid. But even after I became a man, I stayed
right under my old man’s thumb, playing by his rules. You
gonna tell me that’s not my fault? Eli, my father died two
years ago today. And I took over his operations just like he
wanted me to. I’m the one who’s been running things since
then.”
“No.” Eli shook his head, his heart beginning to pound
in his throat. He felt as if he couldn’t breathe. “That can’t be.
I did a search of local public records for anything about
Jameson Murphy. Nothing came up about him being dead,
no obit -”
“It happened in Phoenix while he was on vacation. His
death certificate was issued there. We didn’t put any notice
in the papers here, and there was no funeral. I just dropped
him in the family plot. The people at the top of his
organization tried to keep word of his death from getting
out, figuring that might encourage the New York and
Chicago boys. I still hate my father. I go to the cemetery
every year on the anniversary of his death so I can spit on
his grave. Hell, I’d piss on it, but the first time I did that, the
caretaker caught me and had me arrested.” Murphy sighed,
a heavy, exhausted sound. “Eli, I’m so tired of hurting
people and being afraid, always having to look over my
shoulder. I’m tired of fighting the gangs from New York and
Chicago. I want all of this to be over and done.”
“Murphy, you can’t just… give up. That mob from
Chicago, they’re infiltrating your organization. They’re
recruiting some of your own people to kill you so they can
move in on your turf.”
A sad little smile tweaked Murphy’s face. “Well, that’s
not exactly true. I told you, I got tired of fighting New York
and Chicago, so I invited them in. I let them set up shop
wherever they wanted, as long as they didn’t directly
compete with me. If my organization is selling girls in an
area, they have to bring in boys. If my organization is selling
weed in an area, they have to bring in coke. Another
change I made when I took over was putting a stop to
beating and killing people who don’t play by the rules.
When I did all that, some of my men thought I was betraying
my father’s legacy and started trying to take me out. They
haven’t had much luck. The last one to try was one of my
pimps from downtown, a guy named Tibo. He took a shot at
me through my bedroom window and got taken down by
one of my guards.”
“Jesus.”
The tiny smile dropped from Murphy’s face. “There’s
been so much suffering, Eli, so many people hurt and killed
because of my father’s organization. And I can’t live like this
anymore.”
Comprehension hit Eli out of the blue. “Some of your
people say you’ve gotten sloppy,” he said. “But that’s not
true, is it? You’re making the cracks in your organization
intentionally.”
“All I have to do is let the right information get out
there,” Murphy replied, nodding. “The cops will take the
whole shebang down, and me with it. Or some thug gets
lucky and takes me out before the cops make their move
against the operation. Either way, I’ll pay for what I’ve
done.”
“Stop it, Murphy. I can’t stand to hear you say that.”
“Man, I
tortured
people—”
“Because your father made you. And once he died,
you put a stop to it. That counts for something. That shows
you have a soul. You’re not a monster like your old man
was.”
Murphy opened the door. “Get outta here, Eli. And
don’t come back.” He climbed out of the SUV, shut the
door, and started walking slowly back toward the house.
Eli watched him go, his heart breaking. Part of him
knew that Murphy was right. Jameson’s criminal enterprise
had exploited hundreds of people, using and discarding
them like toilet paper. Those behind that exploitation had to
pay. Murphy was willing to die for what he did. But Eli could
not stand to have him shot down like an animal.
Eli pulled out his cell phone to call Rosie. He intended
to tell her he was on his way back downtown. They would
go to the police tonight.
The shadow he saw hustling along the street behind
Murphy stopped him.
In the next moment, Eli saw that the hurrying figure held
a rifle, and he flung open his door. As he stumbled down
from the vehicle, the barrel of a rifle appeared beside his
head like magic, and before he could shout a warning, a
voice behind him said in a hushed, commanding tone,
“Don’t move don’t move don’t move!”
Eli froze, watching helplessly as more shadowy figures
appeared. Murphy had stepped through the gate and was
walking back across the lawn, oblivious to the rushing, gun-
toting figures converging on him.
From somewhere came the short, stacticky spurt of a
police radio. Murphy spun at the sound, hand going for the
inner pocket of his jacket.
“
Freeze
!”
Suddenly there were a dozen cops standing on the
lawn, suited in dark armor with rifles pointing at Murphy.
Murphy stopped, his hand just inside his jacket, staring
down the cop immediately before him.
“Take your hand out of your jacket,” that cop said.
“
Slow.”
Murphy didn’t move. Eli’s heart was pounding in his
ears. He heard a door bang open, and raised his eyes to
see three men being marched out of Murphy’s house onto
the porch, hands cuffed behind them, each escorted by two
armed and armored policemen. The cops forced them to
kneel on the porch.
“I’m telling you again,” said the cop directly facing
Murphy. “Get your hand out of your jacket. Get your hand out
of your jacket now.”
Still, Murphy made no move. The policemen on either
side of him stepped closer, guns pointed at his head,
cocking the hammers on their weapons.
Eli’s breath caught in his chest. All it would take was a
flicker of a wrong move anywhere on that lawn, and Murphy
would be dead.
Do what he says
,
Eli willed him.
Take your
hand out of your goddamned jacket.
“For the last time,” the cop in front of Murphy snapped,
“get your hand out of your jacket and both hands over your
head. Do it slow. If you don’t put your hands over your head,
we
will
shoot you.”
Eli could see Murphy’s face very clearly in the cold,
crisp night. He could see how Murphy’s eyes were weighed
down with the burden of his demons. He could see how
tired and empty Murphy was, could almost feel how
desperately the man wanted peace. And peace was very
close at hand. It would only take pulling the gun from his
pocket.
Murphy’s eyes dropped down to his jacket.
Eli screamed. “Kevin,
please
! It’s over! You don’t have
to die!”
For a moment, the hand inside the jacket trembled.
Then it slowly withdrew, and both of Murphy’s hands went
into the air.
The cop surged forward, hand slipping into Murphy’s
jacket and removing the gun. Other cops swarmed him,
blocking him from Eli’s view. Then Eli was forced to his
knees on the wet, icy sidewalk and his hands cuffed behind
his back. Several squad cars roared into the cul-de-sac,
lights flashing, and more cops appeared, some of them
seemingly plainclothes detectives. Two uniformed cops
grabbed Eli under the arms and started hauling him up the
street. He looked around, eyes searching through the flurry
of activity, trying to find Murphy.
Just as the cops were about to load him into the
backseat of a squad car, he spotted him. Murphy was just
ahead, handcuffed, being carted by cops to another waiting
squad car. Murphy caught his eyes and mouthed,
I’m sorry
.
Eli smiled back at him, so grateful that Murphy had
raised his hands, arms up and straight as if he were
praising the heavens.
Chapter Eleven
H
E
HEARD
the click of his front door. “Eli?”
“In the office.”
Eli sat at the desk in the front bedroom he had
converted into a home office, his laptop open before him.
He was looking over the book tour schedule his agent and
publisher had drawn up. His new book would go on sale
September 15. The tour would open in Toronto and work its
way south, wrapping up in Miami just before the jingle bells
started. Eli thought it was a perfect schedule. The Tuesday
morning was sunny. The window in front of his desk was
open, letting in a wonderfully warm May breeze. The buzz of
bees around the flowery hedges below drifted in like music.
Sandy walked in, led by her pronounced abdomen.
“Well. This is progress. Are you actually working on a new
project?”
“Not really. Just going through my e-mail.” He looked
up at her. She wore a pink sundress, her Pasadena Pumas
baseball cap, and white sneakers. “Wow. You’re huge.”
“Thanks. You have a spectacularly sexy figure too.”
She eased herself down on the love seat across from the
desk.
“Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“I took the day off. I just had a little visit with my parents,
so since I was on this side of town, I thought I’d pop in on
you.”
“How are your mom and dad?”
“Fine for two people who seem to have no idea how to
handle retirement. Dad’s building another birdhouse to go
up in the backyard, which is starting to look like a
subdivision for robins, and Mom’s making candy, which
neither of their diabetic selves should have. They send their
love.”
“Give ’em mine the next time you talk to them.”
“Sean wants you to come by Saturday afternoon. He’s
gonna grill and have some friends over.”
“Sounds like fun. I’ll bring some dessert.”
Silence followed. Eli glanced over his shoulder and
saw Sandy studying him. “What?” he said.
“Does it really sound like fun?”
Eli was puzzled. “Sure. Why wouldn’t it be? It’s always
nice to get together with friends.”
“I’m worried about you, sweetheart.”
“Why?”
“You’ve been grieving a long time now.”
Eli swiveled the chair around, a surprised look on his
face. “Have I?”
“You’re… different, have been ever since you came
back from Missouri. You’re like a shell. Oh, you still smile
and make with the jokes when we see each other. You
charm Mom and talk politics with Dad like always when
they have us all over for Sunday brunch. You came bearing
gifts to my combination shower and danced at my wedding.
gifts to my combination shower and danced at my wedding.
But it’s like you’re a copy of yourself. The heart’s gone out
of you.”
Eli could hardly argue the point. “I miss him. I spent all
of a day with him this time, and he left an even bigger hole
in my life.”
Sandy sighed. “If I hadn’t started all that crap with you
about that damn reunion, none of this would have
happened. I wish I’d never talked you into going back.”
“I’m glad you did. If I hadn’t been there, I would have
never known what happened with Murphy.” He had told
Sandy everything. After the arrests, he had been taken to
the county jail and placed in a holding cell. He still carried
Los Angeles Times
press credentials because he wrote
occasional pieces for them, and that won him his release
after he explained he had been on the scene gathering
information for an article. The detectives told him that their
investigation, still in progress, would be jeopardized by
publication of any details from the case before they finished
their job, so Eli agreed not to make public anything he knew
about the situation. They would not tell him anything about
Murphy. When he returned to the jail later to post bail for
him, the cops wouldn’t even admit they had Murphy in
custody. When he left Missouri a week later, he had no clue
as to Murphy’s whereabouts.
“You still haven’t heard anything about him?” Sandy
asked.
Eli shook his head. “I hired a private detective a couple
of weeks ago and had her dig around. She came up dry.
It’s as if he’s been shipped off the planet. Or killed.”
“Oh, Eli. I am sorry.”
“So am I. I wish I could have done something for him.”
“It sounds like you did a hell of a lot for him. And
wherever he is, I’m sure he appreciates that.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.” Sandy waved for him to come over. “Now
get your ass up. I need a hug. I’d come to you, but it would
take a crane to get me up from this love seat.”
S
ANDY
took him out for a movie, a comedy that had them
both screeching with laughter. Then they sat in the park,
eating ice cream and talking about their nightclubbing days.
It was good being with her. But after she returned him home
and headed back to her house to make dinner for her
husband, Eli felt the buoyancy from their afternoon together
draining from him rapidly. He sank weakly into the suede
lounger in front of his television, there to flip channels and
slouch through the long, empty hours until it was time to go
to bed.
Chapter Twelve
F
RIDAY
evening, Eli went to the supermarket. He hadn’t
been eating regularly and noticed that he was losing
weight. It was time, he decided, to start taking better care
of himself. After returning home with a load of groceries, he
put them away. Then he seasoned tuna filets, put them on
to broil, and put a bag of frozen broccoli and rice on to
steam. He settled on making lemon meringue pies to take
over to Sandy’s the next day.
While he was squeezing lemons, the doorbell rang.
Why the hell is she ringing the bell?
he wondered. His
mind was muddled these days, but he hadn’t had a guy
over in months, so he knew there couldn’t be a sock on the
doorknob. Drying his hands with a dishtowel, he went to the
door. As he opened it, he said, “Sandy, baby, what’s with
the sudden formality…?”
The sight stunned him.
Murphy.
“D
ON
’
T
CRY
, ”
Murphy said quietly, rubbing Eli’s back as
they stood together in the living room.
Eli could not stop his tears. His knees grew weak, and
his body sagged against Murphy. Murphy held him, easing
him down until they were sitting on the floor. Eli clutched at
him with both fists, staring at him through streaming eyes.
He wouldn’t let go of Murphy, wouldn’t close his eyes, afraid
the man would vanish like smoke if he did.
After a short while, Eli regained some amount of
control. He pulled up the hem of his T-shirt and wiped his
tear-streaked face like a kid. “I’ve been so scared,” he said
in a thick voice trembling with the threat of more weeping. “I
didn’t know where you were, what happened to you….”
“Shh. Don’t talk.” Murphy pulled Eli to his chest and
held him, gently stroking his face. Eli wrapped his arms
around Murphy’s waist and hung on as a fresh round of
tears flowed out of him.
E
LI
sat up, wiping his face again. “I’m okay now,” he said.
He felt drained but fully in control.
He looked at Murphy. Murphy was clean-shaven and
that, together with the clear rosiness of his skin, gave his
face a look of boyish innocence. His hair was trimmed
close to his scalp, and Eli marveled at the exquisite shape
of his head. There were a multitude of questions swirling in
Eli’s head, and he asked randomly, “Where’d the police
take you? What happened to you?”
“I was turned over to the FBI. I’ve been in custody
since.” Murphy wore jeans, sneakers, and a T-shirt. There
was a weightlessness about his manner that Eli had never
seen in him before. It surprised Eli that the guy wasn’t
floating.
“But what are you doing here? How did you find me?”
Murphy reached out, cupping his hand tenderly to the
side of Eli’s face. His gaze was intense. “Eli, I don’t have a
lot of time.”
Eli felt a jolt of panic. “What do you mean? What’s
happening?”
“Once I was arrested, I was ready to go to prison. I
didn’t even want to fight the charges. I would have
confessed to whatever the cops wanted.” Murphy took both
of Eli’s hands in his. “But then my lawyer showed up, and
she wouldn’t let me say a thing to the detectives. That’s
when I found out the FBI was taking over the case. They
were after much bigger fish than me. They wanted the big
boys in Chicago and New York. My lawyer worked out a
deal. The heaviest charges against me get dismissed. I
confess to the rest and do my penance. In exchange for the
dismissal, I testify against the heads of the New York and
Chicago mobs.”
“Oh, God, Murphy. That’s good, that’s great,” Eli
gushed. “Isn’t it?”
“Word about the deal is already out there. There’s a
target on my head. I’m going into witness protection for the
rest of my life.”
Eli’s heart sank like a cold stone. He clutched
Murphy’s hand tightly. “You’re disappearing for good….”
“I have to. It’s the only way the Feds can keep me alive
until, and after, the trial. They’ll wipe out my old existence
and give me a new one. They’ve confiscated all of my
property and money. I’m sorry, but they took your family
home—”
“I don’t care about that. Murphy… I don’t want to lose
you again. I can’t.”
Murphy took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Then
come with me.”
“What?”
“That’s why I’m here. The Feds asked if there was
family I wanted to take into the program with me, and that’s
you, Eli. They tracked you down and brought me to you. I’ve
loved you since I was sixteen. I used to think I had nothing to
live for, but after that day in the hotel with you, I realized
there was something in my life worth hanging around for.
I’ve been without you a long time, and I don’t want to be
without you anymore.”
Eli stared back at him, unable to speak. He could see
the faint sparkle of hope and excitement in Murphy’s eyes.
“I know I don’t deserve you,” Murphy said. “And I know
you’d have to give up your whole life here. It’s a lot for me to
ask of you, and I’ll understand if you can’t do it. But if you
come with me, I swear to you I will never walk away from
you again. There are a bunch of agents waiting for me
outside. They’re only giving me thirty minutes in here, and
that’s just about up, so I gotta go. But please, think about it
and—”
Eli sprang forward, throwing his arms around Murphy’s
neck, swallowing his words in a desperate kiss.
E
LI
and Sandy sat together on her patio, looking out over
the beach and the ocean beyond. Eli had his arm around
her shoulders, holding her close. The night was warm and
clear, the moon shining full and white above.
“You know, I keep thinking that if the big one ever hits,
all of this is gonna go sliding right off into the deep,” said
Sandy.
“You’re really cheering me up here, babe,” Eli replied.
“You don’t need cheering. You’re happy as a fly over a
fresh cow patty. Excuse the image.”
“I’m scared. I don’t know what to do.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I don’t know if I can really do it.”
“Yes, you can.”
“He couldn’t tell me much, but it was pretty clear that,
even with the plea deal, he’s going to do time somewhere
in the penal system. What’s not so clear is what will happen
between the two of us while he pays his debts to society.”
“He won’t get tossed into just any prison. That would
make it hard to keep him alive. He’ll probably wind up in
one of those white-collar camps where there are ponds for
fishing and trails for hiking. The important thing is, you’ll be
right there to work it out with him. And when he’s done
whatever time he has to do, the two of you will get a fresh
start, complete with new names and new lives.”
They were silent then, listening to the hiss of waves
breaking gently on the white sand. The air smelled of brine
and the steaks Sean was broiling in the kitchen.
Sandy gasped suddenly, bringing a hand to her
swollen belly. “Ooh. Somebody’s awake.”
Eli put his hand over hers, feeling the faint, mysterious
knock from within her. “I’m supposed to be his godfather.”
“You’re still bringing lemon meringue pie to the
cookout tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I love your lemon meringue pie.”
Eli laughed softly and shook his head. “You always
think everything is so simple.”
“That’s because it is.”
“Oh, God….” Eli groaned. He leaned forward, elbows
braced on his knees, burying his face in his hands.
Sandy patted his back.
A few moments later, Eli sat up again, wiping the tears
from his eyes. “You’re the one piece of my life I can’t leave
behind.”
“Sweetheart, Sean’s my hubby, but you’re the first love
of my life. And I’m telling you now, the day you finally take
off, my heart is gonna break like the Titanic. But I’ll be
happy for you. I’ll be so flipping happy for you.”
They settled back, Eli’s arm around Sandy’s shoulders
once again. He saw her belly move and put his hand over
the spot. “Settle down, Adam. You’re going to give your
mom indigestion.”
“You know,” Sandy said with a little frown, “I’m not so
hot on that name anymore.”
“I thought you and Sean decided.”
“Oh, Sean’s already said I can name the kid whatever.
He’s just happy it’s a boy. So I’m changing the name—”
“Mrs. Blake, don’t you dare do it.”
“Already dared and done,” Sandy replied with a smile.
“I’m naming him Eli.”
Eli looked at her, blinking rapidly. With a shaky smile,
he wiped the back of his hand across his eyes. "Woman,
you just love to make a grown man cry."
"Hey, don't go thinking I'm being all altruistic and
sentimental here. I expect quid pro quo. You and Murphy
have a little girl someday, her name had better be
Cassandra."
Eli laughed. "Sugar, you got it."
About the Author
E
VAN
G
ILBERT
lives in Memphis, Tennessee, a Southern
boy through and through. He thinks writing is a pretty neat
way to make a living. When he’s not writing, he enjoys, in no
particular order, swimming, going to the movies, reading,
long walks in the country, working out, and spending time
with family and friends.
Also from
E
VAN
G
ILBERT
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Copyright
Made Man ©Copyright Evan Gilbert, 2012
Published by
Dreamspinner Press
382 NE 191st Street #88329
Miami, FL 33179-3899, USA
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product
of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely
coincidental.
Cover Art by Catt Ford
This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any
means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal
prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be
legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced
without the express permission of the Publisher. To request permission and all other
inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 382 NE 191st Street #88329, Miami, FL
33179-3899, USA
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
Released in the United States of America
June 2012
eBook Edition
eBook ISBN: 978-1-61372-549-8
Table of Contents
Title page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
About the Author
Also from Evan Gilbert
Copyright