by Tara Lain
He watched the men crowd around the man who had kind of said he loved Mick. But he hadn’t meant it like that. Why would a guy like that be in love with Mick? Jerry wouldn’t lie to him on purpose, but Jerry loved lots of people. Mick was happy to be one of them. Nothing special.
He stepped back quietly as he could and returned to the equipment room. Let the guys have Jerry. He belonged to them. Not to Mick.
JERRY HOBBLED into his apartment, kicked the door closed, hopped to the sectional and flopped. Well, shit. Double shit.
He thought he’d actually made some headway with Mick Cassidy. Hell, the guy seemed to like him well enough, but today at the station, they might as well have been strangers. One step forward and twenty-seven back.
A knock on the door brought him up to sitting. He looked over the back of the couch. “It’s open.”
The door opened and David Underwood peeked in. “Hey, guy, how you doing?”
“Okay. Come on in.”
David looked over his shoulder. “I’ve got the boys with me.”
“Sure. C’mon. Love to see them.” David’s “boys” were actually two major hunks who played volleyball in college in Santa Barbara, so Jerry didn’t get to see them much.
Talk about easy on the eyes. David was a classically handsome man who’d even posed as the statue of David one year in the Laguna Pageant of the Masters. That’s where he’d met Gareth and Edge, a couple of Aussies.
The three men filled the space real nice. David was about Jerry’s height but more slender. The boys, however, were taller, and Edge reminded Jerry of Mick. Damn. That brought him back to his hurting heart.
Jerry pointed at the kitchen. “There’s iced tea and beer—help yourselves. Carrying stuff is my downfall on these things.” He nodded toward the crutches.
David went into the kitchen. “We actually thought we might be able to give you a hand. Do some shopping for you or something.” The refrigerator opened and bottles rattled.
Gareth went to help David, and Edge sat in the chair opposite Jerry. “Does it hurt, mate?”
“No. Just a pain in the ass.”
“Yeah, I’ve had a few of them myself.”
Gareth and David came in, each carrying two glasses of tea. Gareth set one in front of Jerry and plopped on the sofa next to him. David gave a glass to Edge as he sat on the arm of the chair next to his big, blond lover.
David ran a hand over the frosty glass. “I wanted to thank you for my new employee.”
He grinned. “Cool, man. So you hired Jezebel.”
“Yeah, she’s great.”
Gareth laughed. “Very determined. She intended us to know how much she wanted to work there and wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
Jerry smiled. “I hope she wasn’t too pushy.”
“Oh no. She just made sure we understood her qualifications. No customer will be safe from Jezebel. And JJ gave her his stamp of approval.”
“Perfect. The girl’s trying to shape a life for herself. I don’t know how much she told you about where she came from, but her circumstances are scary.”
David nodded. “She told me some. I know about changing your life, and I’m all for helping a fellow traveler on the road to happiness.”
“I appreciate you doing it.”
David sipped. “My pleasure. Good tea. So, can we go get you groceries or something?”
His friends were great. “That’s so great of you guys, but actually JJ came over with enough food to feed all of us for a month, then Sky and Adam brought another bag of organic produce. You know Sky. So I’m set. But I’m happy for your company.”
Gareth looked at him with those beautiful dark eyes. “So what do you need, luv?”
He sighed. “That obvious, huh?”
David smiled. “Rodney just might have mentioned that you were going through some romantic angst.”
“Yeah.” He looked over at Edge. “I’ve got a thing for a guy who doesn’t, or didn’t, know he was gay. He’s twenty-four. Comes from a majorly homophobic background. Same group as Jezebel.”
Edge gave a half smile. “Sounds bloody familiar.”
“This guy’s home life was tough. His father’s a preacher, and he was raised to hate gays. A total fanatic. From what Mick says, his father might kill his own son if he thought he was gay.”
David frowned. “Surely not.”
“I think it could be true.” He shuddered.
Edge looked over at Gareth. “Our dads might not have been lethal, but they were pretty vicious without having any idea they were defaming their own sons. Of course, I didn’t know it either. I just knew I didn’t want to live my life without Gareth. I fell in love with David first because I saw him through Gareth’s eyes.” He grinned. “Of course, the sex was so good it helped win me over pretty fast.”
Jerry nodded. “Mick likes the sex too, but I don’t think he understands anything else. He told me that no one had ever loved him, and I don’t think he believes that I do.”
David’s eyes widened. “Do you? Love him, I mean?”
“He saved my life.”
“That’s gratitude, not love.”
Jerry nodded slowly. “But maybe I mean, like, not just from the fire.”
Gareth said, “He saved you on more than one level?”
“Yeah, something like that. I’ve been trying to figure out why I like him. I mean, he was trained to be a homophobe. He could have been that his whole life and gotten lots of pats on the back from all the people he knows.”
David frowned. “But he’s gay.”
Edge nodded. “Lots of closet gays make the worst homophobes of all. I was a real bastard. I might have stayed that way if you two hadn’t been there.”
Jerry shook his head. “Mick didn’t have a best friend who was gay.”
Edge said, “He has you.”
“Yeah. But dammit, I don’t want to just be a friend with benefits.”
“What do you want, Jerry?” Gareth put a hand on his leg.
“He makes me feel… good.”
David cocked his head. “What kind of good?”
“He’s really smart. Like a genius, but he’s kind of a little kid. He’s a hero. Everybody saw that. But I feel like I can take care of him too.” He took a deep breath. “I finally feel like there’s someone who needs me as much as I need him.”
That idea just sat there in the middle of the room, and everybody looked at it.
Jerry smiled. “I cared about Hunter and Bill. Liked them and admired them. But they didn’t need me at all.”
“Taking care of someone isn’t love, Jerry.”
Jerry looked up at David and shook his head. “I’m not so good at saying stuff, but it’s like I need to be with him, and I think he needs to be with me. Like we’re better together.”
David looked at Jerry with his big blue eyes. “Does he know this?”
Jerry shrugged. “Not exactly.”
Edge smiled. “Well then, damn, mate. You need to tell him. And don’t take no for an answer. That’s what these two did with me.”
Right! “I need to tell him.” He looked at his watch. “He’ll get off duty soon. I’m going to go sit on his steps and wait for him. Then I’ll make him see. We belong together.”
David laughed. “Go get him, tiger.”
Chapter Fourteen
JERRY PULLED into the driveway that ended at Mick’s garage apartment. Mick’s car wasn’t here. Good, he’d beat him home.
He stopped the car, opened the door, and pulled his crutches from the back. He was good at it after four days of practice. Planting one crutch, he got to his feet, hopped away from the car, and kicked the door closed with his foot. Okay, up the stairs. That way he’d be ready to confront Mick and the guy couldn’t escape.
Stairs were a fun challenge, and Mick’s were steep. He planted the crutches, swung both legs up, got a rhythm going, and made it halfway up before he took a breath. Okay. No problem.
He propelled up one stair and
the door of Mick’s apartment opened a crack. Whoa. He grabbed the rail and managed to keep hold of the crutch.
“Jerry?” The door opened wide, and Jezebel ran out on the small porch. “Oh God, I’m so glad you’re here.”
Jerry put up a hand. “Hang on.” He hopped up the last four stairs.
She grabbed his arm. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“I just wasn’t expecting anyone to be here.” He looked down at the driveway. No car. “How did you get here?”
“A girlfriend who wants to get away too helped me. Come inside. I have to tell you what’s happened. Then we have to find Mick and get away from here.”
“What?”
“Come inside.”
He followed her in. She closed the door and peeked out through the peephole. There weren’t any windows on that side of the apartment, so she couldn’t get a bigger view.
He made it to a chair and sat on the arm. “What’s up?”
“Bill Ray knows about Mick, and he’s on his way here. We have to get out of here.”
“Whoa.” He held up a hand. “Who’s Bill Ray and why do we have to leave?”
She paced toward the kitchen and back. “Bill Ray Cassidy. Michael’s, I mean Mick’s, father. Some guy from Mick’s fire station came to the community to see Brother Cassidy. Bill Ray. This guy told Bill Ray that Mick was consorting with fags and perverts and was being led astray. He said Mick was deep in sin because of—you.”
Jerry shrugged. “I guess that would be me, all right.”
“This isn’t funny, Jerry. He’s dangerous.”
“Sorry. I know he is from what Mick’s told me.”
“I don’t know if he realizes I’m gone yet, but I have to find someplace to stay, and so does Mick.”
“You can stay with me. Mick too, of course.”
She sagged. “Oh, good. Call Mick now and tell him to meet us at your place. I’ve got my stuff.” She pointed at a small pile of plastic bags stacked by the door.
“Okay. We’ll call from the car. Can you take a couple of bags down? I’m not much for carrying.”
“Heck yes. I got them up here.” She grabbed two bags, dragged them to the door, and opened it. With an “oof,” she hoisted one over her shoulder and picked up the other. Damn, he wished he could help.
She vanished out the door. Jerry used one crutch and pulled the other two bags by the door. What else should he take? Mick’s toothbrush? They could share. Some clothes? Mick could wear Edge’s stuff if it came to that. But hell, would Mick’s father actually come after Mick and Jezebel? They were both adults. He didn’t have any right to interfere in their lives. Jerry stared around the place. He should call the cops, but he didn’t have any proof that the guy was coming or was dangerous.
She rushed back into the room.
He looked around again. “You ready?”
“Wait. The computer.”
“I’ve got one.”
“But I’ve got all my school stuff saved.”
She hurried over to a little desk made of a board and some bricks. A quick jerk unplugged the laptop, and then she rolled the cord and grabbed the mouse. “Okay. Let’s go.”
The voice came from the door. “Where exactly would you be going, Sister Jezebel?”
Kind of high and nasal, it sent a shiver right up Jerry’s back. Jezebel’s eyes went wide. Jerry looked toward the door.
The man standing there was maybe his height, not nearly the giant his son was. Clearly the dude had seen too many movies because he was dressed like something out of a bad flick—flannel shirt, jeans, long beard. Maybe he could throw the guy off. Jerry stuck out his hand. “You must be Mr. Cassidy. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Jerry Wallender.”
Cassidy stared at Jerry’s hand like a snake had just uncoiled. “You don’t expect me to touch you, do you?”
Jerry shrugged. “No. But I figured I’d give it a shot.”
The man’s dark eyes narrowed. “You will treat me with respect, boy.”
“No, sir. I only treat people with respect if they deserve it.”
“Where’s my son?”
“At work, I imagine.”
“And why would a homo pervert like you be alone in this apartment with a young girl? Maybe you’re trying to take Mick’s fiancée from him?”
Jerry shook his head. “Oh, come on. You believe that about as much as you believe pigs fly. She’s not a young girl, she’s an adult, she’s not Mick’s fiancée, and I’ll damned well take her anyplace she wants to go. Come on, Jezebel.”
He turned and started toward the door, but Jezebel was frozen. “Jezebel, get the hell out the door.”
Like somebody flipped a switch, she bolted toward the exit. Cassidy reached out and grabbed her arm.
“Ow!”
Damned crutches. Jerry loosed his grip on one crutch and reached toward the preacher, but the man grabbed his arm, pulled him off balance, and knocked him to the ground.
Shit. Ouch. Jerry looked up. Cassidy was staring at Jezebel. “You’re coming home to your family, and you’re staying there. No female is going to defy me.”
She pulled her arm free. “I’m an adult. You can’t hold me. I have a job and I’m going to school.”
“Over my dead body, bitch. Your father will lock you in the basement, and you’ll be lucky to get out for childbirth.”
Jerry swept a leg and slammed against the preacher’s knee.
The man collapsed onto the floor. “God damn.”
Jerry pointed to the door. “Get out, Jezebel.”
She backed up and Jerry staggered to his feet. Cassidy still lay on the ground. Jerry hopped toward the door. Jezebel turned to wait for him.
“Go on.”
She pointed. “She’s down there in the car—Mrs. Cassidy.”
“She won’t hurt you. Go on.”
The voice came from behind him. “She might not, but I will if you both don’t stop right now.”
Jerry looked over his shoulder right into the barrel of a gun. He didn’t know much about weapons, but this sure looked like something he’d seen on the six o’clock news. “You can’t seriously expect to use that thing in the middle of Costa Mesa and get away with it.”
“Oh, but I do, you defiler of God’s earth. Get in here. Both of you.”
Jezebel stared at the gun and crossed in front of Jerry back into the apartment. Her whole body trembled enough that he could see it.
Jerry balanced on his crutches a few feet from the door. He sighed. “You don’t believe all this crap you put out, do you? I mean, I’m sure a lot of your followers are just plain dumb, but you’re not. You know better. You just use this line of bullshit to make people afraid so you can get ’em to do what you want. Power trip, man.”
Cassidy frowned. “It doesn’t matter if I believe it. Because what I do believe is that the world will be a lot better off without you tempting young men away from their godly responsibilities. I know all about your kind. Pretty as a picture and just so sweet. Until you get what you want, and then you crush the boy like dirt under your fancy shoes.”
Jerry stuck out a foot. “All I got is some Keds, man. And I think you’re painting some other picture altogether.” Still, that gun gave him shivers.
The preacher stared at Jerry like maybe he saw somebody else. “Walk toward the stairs.”
What? “Why?”
“Because those crutches can so easily slip on those stairs, can’t they?”
“Get over yourself, man.” His heart beat in his throat.
“I think you get to choose how you die.” He waggled the gun.
“Hell no.” But this was not a cool situation. A fall down those stairs would likely kill. Where was Mick? He half wanted him to come and half hoped he’d stay away and be safe.
Jezebel took a step toward Cassidy, and he swung the gun at her belly. “Don’t you dare. I’d like to knock you both down those stairs, but that might make your perverted friend’s death seem less
like an accident. Still, I’m sure your father knows what’s good for you.” Cassidy stepped closer and aimed the gun at Jerry’s chest. “Jezebel, go into the bathroom and close the door.”
“No.”
“Do it, or so help me I’ll shoot you here.”
“No.” But tears ran down her cheeks. Jerry might drop a tear or two himself. Would he be able to catch himself? Shit, if Cassidy pushed him hard—
Jezebel stared at him. “Oh God, Jerry, I’m so sorry.” Her walk to the bathroom took a lot of hope with her. Alone with a crazy man holding a gun, and him on crutches. This was fucked up!
Cassidy narrowed his eyes. Pure hate. He pushed the barrel against Jerry’s chest. He couldn’t miss at this range. Hell, his chances on the stairs were better. Maybe he could keep from falling. Maybe.
Cassidy pushed. “Move.”
Jerry took one step. Shit, he needed out of this.
“Faster, damn your perverted eyes.”
Another step. His crutch hit the hard concrete of the landing. That would be the landing fourteen steps up. Breathe, man. Stay loose. It’s your only chance.
The thud of big, giant shoes running up the stairs sounded like the theme song to The Endless Summer. Mick! Jerry gasped. But damn, now Mick was in danger too.
Mick pulled the door all the way open. “What the fuck is going on?”
The preacher snapped, “Watch your language.”
Maybe it was relief at seeing Mick or the idiocy of the situation. Jerry started to laugh.
Cassidy scowled. “What’s so funny, fag?”
“You’re about to kill three people, and you’re worried about his language. I think you win in the commandment-breaking department.”
Mick stepped next to Jerry. “Kill? What do you mean, kill? Put the gun away.”
Cassidy’s voice was dead and flat. “I don’t break any commandments when I kill you, fag. God instructs us to wipe you from the earth.”
Well, hell. Jerry pulled his crutch back from the porch. “You are so full of shit.”
For one second they balanced on the crest of the wave.
Mick wrapped his hand over Jerry’s where he held the crutch. “Then you better kill me too, because I’m as much a fag as Jerry is.”