In My Father’s House

by E. Lynn Harris

  Jah shrugged. “I’ll pick that up next year. Seth said I can go wherever I want, although he said I should consider Pepperdine. Have you ever heard of that school?” He picked up the slice and took a big bite, making a playful face and saying, “Mmm-mmm.”

  But for me, here he was again, saying something over a meal to ruin my appetite. “Yes, Pepperdine is a very good school, Jah, but so is Florida International.”

  Jah wiped his mouth. At least the whites of his eyes were white today. “I know, but I need to just make sure I don’t have to spend a lot of time studying because I think Seth is going to be spending a lot of time with me.”

  Since prior conversations of me blowing up and lecturing Jah about his relationship with Seth hadn’t worked, today I was taking a different approach. Maybe I would let Father Time do the job for me, and let familiarity breed the contempt that made it famous. All that time together, surely Seth and Jah would grow tired of each other, right? Then Jah would come to his senses and return to Florida.

  I casually bit into my pizza and shrugged just like he’d done. “Jah, if this is what you want, then I’m happy for you.”

  His eyes grew big with surprise. “B, do you mean that?”

  “I mean it, Jah.”

  Jah jumped from his seat, came around the table, and hugged me. “Thank you, B,” he whispered.

  I looked into his eyes and said, “If this really is going to make you happy, then I say do it. Doesn’t mean I won’t miss you.”

  Happiness glowed on his face. “Oh, B, I’ll miss you, too, but Seth said I’ll be getting an allowance and I’m sure I can use some of it for tickets back here. And I can fly you to California when you have some free time. I’ll finally be able to pay you back some of the money you’ve loaned me.”

  I was still blown away at how Jah seemed to be fitting into a perfectly orchestrated plan where every detail was covered. I shook my head.

  “Jah, I gave you the money because you needed it. Don’t worry about paying me back.” He sat back down and we both ate for a minute. “If you feel compelled to do something, then find some young kid like yourself that needs help and give it to them. I’m sure you’ll find a lot of them in Hollywood.”

  Jah smiled. “Good idea, B! Why didn’t I think of that?”

  I poured us both some root beer and asked, “When are you moving? What about your car?”

  “Seth said we could ship the car or he’d buy me another one when I get there.”

  I laughed at the idea of having so much bank that he could just buy another Porsche on a whim and forget about the one here in Florida. My voice was dry and flat when I said, “It must be nice to have that kind of money.”

  “Yeah, right,” Jah said, gulping down soda. “But I remember what you told me, that Seth’s money isn’t mine. I guess maybe God is finally making up for all the shit I took as a child in foster care.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think God operates like that, Jah.”

  That dreamy look swept over Jah’s face. “I know, but it’s kind of amazing what has happened to my life since I met Seth. I really should be thanking you.”

  My stomach cramped. He had no clue how guilty I felt about this, or how much I’d been worrying about the downside of this fairy tale. “Don’t give me credit for that, Jah. I’d really like to see you with someone your own age.”

  He made an annoyed sound. “Guys my age are so immature. I don’t know how I could ever consider them as partners.”

  I just shook my head and forced a smile.

  “What’s up with the fake smile, B?”

  “As you always say, Jah, whatever.” My thoughts fast-forwarded to Jah living in California. Then I’d rarely see him and have no influence on what he was doing.

  “B, you want the last piece of pizza?”

  “I’m cool.”

  “Then I’ll eat it,” he said, holding it in front of his mouth. “Seth wants me to gain about five pounds. I think he likes bois with big asses.”

  I sipped my soda. “Well, we both know whatever Seth wants, Seth gets.”

  “But that only applies to me.”

  “And his wife,” I corrected, casting him a hard look.

  “B,” Jah whined, “are you saying that to be mean?”

  “No, Jah, but you can’t forget she’s there.”

  He shrugged and chewed. “I don’t care about her.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “What about the kids?”

  “I’m getting ready to go.”

  I reached across the table and held his hand down so he couldn’t get up. “Jah, it might feel like a fantasy with Seth. But there’s reality to think about, too. And it won’t go away just because you don’t want to talk about this. You can’t just run away from your problems.”

  Jah’s eyes filled with anger and hurt as he stared at me over our last supper together in Florida. “They aren’t my problem!” he snapped. “I’m very happy right now and no one is going to spoil that. Not even you, B.”

  Jah stood up and grabbed his keys from the counter without even a good-bye.

  TWENTY-NINE

  I started my morning by calling Wilson to tell him that Jah wouldn’t be flying to Chicago and to thank him for his help. When he picked up the phone, I detected sadness in his voice.

  “Is everything okay, Wilson?”

  He sighed and he sounded like he’d been crying. “Not really, Bentley. I just got some really bad news.” He exhaled loudly, as if he was trying to compose himself. “But I appreciate you calling and giving me an update. You don’t have to thank me for offering to help.”

  I wished I could give him a hug. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Just pray for my friend’s family.”

  “What friend?”

  Wilson blew his nose. “Remember the one I told you about who was messing around with somebody real famous? And that he got beat up really bad and was in a coma?”

  I grimaced, leaning back in my chair. That recent conversation with Gabriel, and of course Jah’s situation, came to mind. Everything was a dream when they were doing what the powerful man wanted. But what happened when the boi or fem got sassy? Angry? Defiant?

  Could Wilson’s friend have been messing with someone as rich as Seth?

  “Yeah, I remember that,” I said. “Has there been any change?”

  Wilson paused for a long moment, then he told me that his friend had died late last night.

  The words echoed in my head. All I could think about was Jah, taking up residence in the shark’s luxurious nest on the other side of the country, far away from me. I had to find out if Wilson’s friend had any connection to the PGC or Seth. If so, this would, unfortunately, confirm my fears about just how viciously they tossed out their used bois like spoiled milk. If not, then I could breathe easy for a minute. Maybe.

  “Oh, Wilson, I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do?”

  Wilson sighed. “We might be setting up a fund at Freedom Bank to help with funeral expenses because I know his family doesn’t have a lot of money and they were not that supportive of his life. I’m sure we can use any money you want to donate.”

  I logged on to my computer. “Just e-mail the address when it’s set up and I’ll do that. Are the police treating this as a hate crime?”

  I almost shivered as those words passed over my lips. Gay bashing was one of the things that terrified me most after hearing reports in college of a gang of straight guys who’d roam the streets looking for a lone gay guy to beat up.

  Wilson sighed. “I don’t know if it can be a hate crime if other gay men did this to him.”

  That set off an alarm inside me. “What makes you think gay men did this?”

  Wilson’s cynical laugh didn’t make me feel any better. “In Chicago, there’s a gang of gay thugs, if you can believe that. I’ve heard that sometimes ex-lovers or people trying to get back at some of the kids have been paying these bullies to rough people up. I can’t prove it, but it’s
really what I think.”

  I had to ask him and find out if Seth Sinclair could be behind that. “Wilson, do you have any idea who might be giving the orders to the gang?”

  Wilson sniffled. “My friend was too afraid to tell me, even from the beginning. He just said the guy was one of the most famous people on the planet. They’d go on these weekend getaways in fancy hotels. And all of a sudden my friend showed up with a Porsche.”

  My heart pounded. This was sounding way too close for comfort. “Wilson, what happened to end the relationship?”

  He was quiet.

  “Wilson?”

  Wilson cleared his throat. “My friend was too scared to tell me. He just said when he refused to do certain things, he got the boot. Literally.”

  I had to breathe deeply to stop myself from applying all this stuff to Jah’s situation. So far, it was smooth sailing. Jah said he was happy, and I’d have to just stay calm with that thought.

  “Wilson, have you told anyone about this?”

  He sounded defeated as he said, “No one will listen to me.”

  I spoke with authority. “I think you should talk to the police. Somebody in Chicago has got to know who these people are.”

  He sighed. “I’ll think about it. Thanks for being so supportive, Bentley. I hope we get the chance to see each other real soon.”

  Now I wished more than ever that I could give him a hug. “Yeah, Wilson, me, too. Now you take care and stay strong. I’ll check on you in a couple of days. Call me if you need me.”

  “I will. Take care.”

  “Bye, Wilson.”

  I hung up the phone and shook my head as I muttered, “Gay thugs. Yikes.”

  THIRTY

  My session with Dr. Fenton couldn’t have come at a better time, because after talking with Wilson, my head was a horror strip of worries about Jah. He’d been gone a week, and I was spending too much energy on trying to convince myself that he was okay.

  “Bentley,” Dr. Fenton said with worry in her eyes, “you look like you haven’t slept all month.”

  The relief of being in her office made me slump into the couch and grasp the leopard print pillows. I loved that this was the one place where I could just unload, no matter how crazy it sounded.

  “Dr. Fenton, every time I lay down at night, all I can think about is Jah’s fantasy turning into a nightmare,” I said. “Wilson’s dead friend in Chicago, the gay bashers, Gabriel’s warning and threat—”

  “Wait, stop, Bentley,” she said. “Explain, please.”

  I told her about Wilson’s dead friend, the gay thugs, Gabriel’s angry threat about exposing Seth, and his warning about how Jah would get used, abused, and tossed out.

  “Let’s step back and separate the reality of all this,” Dr. Fenton said. “It’s all very dramatic and scary. But how much of it is truth?”

  I almost smiled. Dr. Fenton was about to deflate my fears.

  “Bentley, who’s to say that this relationship for Jah couldn’t become a long-term affair where he truly does get the love and care that he’s wanted all his life?”

  I nodded. “That is a possibility, but—”

  “But what proof do you have that could apply other people’s problems to your friend’s arrangement?” she asked.

  I hated that it seemed like I was sounding paranoid. But I loved that she was making me look at the facts.

  “None,” I said, “but my parents always said, if something sounds too good to be true, then it is. And nothing is free.”

  Dr. Fenton nodded. “Very wise. However, we could say that Jah is already facing a downside of it, and perhaps that’s the extent of it.”

  I didn’t understand, and my face let her know that.

  “Look, this guy is married with a family, and has a reputation to uphold for the whole world as a straight man, right?”

  I nodded.

  “So the downside for Jah is that the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to him is completely secret. When you’re in love, don’t you want to stand on a mountain and shout it to the world?” She laughed softly. “Metaphorically, anyway.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. What if that were the extent of it?

  “Bentley, do you think as a straight woman, I’m being naïve?”

  Damn, she burst my bubble of relief and hope.

  “Yes,” I said without hesitation. “I just have this fear of Jah throwing a tantrum if things don’t play out like he wants. Whether it’s freaky sex or drugs or who knows what. And what does Daddy do when his boi throws a tantrum?”

  “He gives him a spanking,” Dr. Fenton said.

  All my fears flooded back.

  “I think this is far more complex, Bentley, than you realize,” Dr. Fenton said. “You’re so upset by what Gabriel said at Starbucks. Why?”

  “He was basically calling me a snob.”

  “Are you?”

  “No.”

  She raised her eyebrows in a way that questioned my honesty. “Are you sure? You did grow up in a privileged background.”

  I was not about to let her lay a guilt trip on me for how I was raised. “That doesn’t make you a snob!” I said too loudly. “Our parents were always reminding us a lot of people were less fortunate and a lot would be expected from us. We always took old toys and clothes to poor neighborhoods in Detroit. In college, I always tutored kids that were less privileged. I know how lucky I was to have the childhood I enjoyed.”

  She nodded. “But I think Gabriel touched a nerve in terms of sexual politics.”

  I exhaled, feeling annoyed. “What does that mean?”

  She took off her half-glasses and used them to pull her hair from her face. “I don’t think he doesn’t like you because he sees you as a snob as much as identifying with you as a gay man.”

  “I’m not in the closet,” I said, “but I’m not leading the parade, either.”

  “How do you feel about feminine gay men?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you have any feminine gay friends?”

  I looked at her like I still didn’t get it. What did this have to do with Jah or Gabriel or me? “If you’re talking tops and bottoms, then I have friends from both groups.”

  She gave me a super-analytical look. “But a bottom, from my understanding, can sometimes be very masculine as well. What do you consider yourself?”

  I sighed, not feeling like this was getting anywhere. “I don’t like labels, but I would most likely say ‘versatile.’ ‘Bisexual’ in the gay world.”

  She looked at me as if I’d said the magic word. “Okay. I think Gabriel was pointing out that as a feminine gay man, he’s most likely going to face double discrimination. First from society as a whole, then within the gay community.”

  I snapped, “He could bring it on himself when he acts like that. I know he’s just acting out.”

  “Aha,” Dr. Fenton said. “But maybe he’s being himself. I think his anger comes from the fact that when people meet you, they don’t know you’re gay unless you tell them. You can pass in and out of the straight world without much problem.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “That’s not my fault. I didn’t make up the rules.”

  “That’s a cop-out, Bentley.”

  The lightbulb lit up in my head. “You know, I never really thought of it that way. I just figured people like Gabriel were looking for attention.”

  Her voice had a hard edge when she said, “Attention that could bring them harm.”

  I felt confused. “Harm?”

  “From gay bashers,” she said. “Studies show that a danger or beating because of sexual orientation is more likely if there are clear signs that a man or a woman is obviously gay.”

  My eyes widened as I connected the dots. “Whoa, I never thought about that.”

  Dr. Fenton leaned forward. “Bentley, why do you think you’ve always been involved with guys who are hypermasculine?”

  I thought about my men. “Like—”
r />   “Warren?”

  “That’s just my type,” I declared. “Sometimes I see a softer side of Warren, but not often.”

  “Why is that?”

  Wherever this was going, I felt it was unnecessary. We needed to get back to the things I wanted to talk about. “I don’t know, Dr. Fenton. But I’m not a snob! And if I am, I guess I did pick up some of those clues that people were different from my father.”

  Her eyes widened as if she were shocked to hear this true confession from me. “So we should blame him?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying.” Suddenly an image of my father and me when I was a little boy clouded my thoughts. It was a happy memory.

  “What is that smile about, Bentley?” Dr. Fenton asked.

  “When I was a little boy, sometimes on Saturdays I would go with my dad as he tried to make payment plans with his customers who were behind on their car notes. He would do everything he could to prevent sending the repo man to get one of his cars. Most of the time people had good excuses for not being able to make a car note and I saw the kindness in my father that I didn’t always see when he dealt with business matters.”

  Dr. Fenton nodded. “You sound happy recalling that.”

  I nodded. “Sometimes after we’d make the rounds, my father and I would go to have a cheeseburger, fries, Coke, or sometimes a milk shake, at White Castle.”

  I leaned forward playfully and almost whispered, “Now this was our little secret, because both my mother and sister thought restaurants like White Castle and Church’s Chicken were set up for poor people. Not only were they cheap, but they served food that we knew wasn’t good for you. I mean, we had a family cook and sometimes my mother would get on her for frying chicken, even though everyone in the family loved it.”

  Dr. Fenton smiled. “So this was a little secret between you and your father?”

  My throat burned with sadness. “Yes, and I miss those times more than I care to admit.”

  “You could call him.”

  “He wouldn’t answer,” I said. “And if he did, he’d hang up when he realized it was me.”