by Max Walker
“You showed her pictures?” Kiley was up and running to my side in seconds. Milan laughed from the table, fully tuned into the conversation and avoiding the highlighted notes in front of him. “Let me see.”
I unlocked my phone and went to Beckham’s barebones Instagram page. “He only has these photos from like a year and a half ago, but trust me, he hasn’t changed.”
Kiley took the phone from my hand and drew in an audible breath. “How have you not introduced me to this man yet?”
“Because he’s scared you’d swallow him whole with your vagina?” Tyra said, brow still arched. We all laughed at that, Kiley handing me back my phone.
“It’s still pretty new, all right? I don’t think I’ve even shown pics to Will. I just don’t want to jinx things. It’s going really well, like… too well. I’m scared it’s all going to collapse suddenly, like a pop star’s career after she gets a terrible haircut.” The gang laughed. In my phone, I found the photo that was taken of us before the rainbow pool incident. I gave the phone back to Kiley, whose jaw dropped.
“You two are seriously so flipping cute. I’m dying here.” She was smiling from ear to ear, same as I was. “And you two text a lot?”
“Every day.” I looked around, as if I were going to share something extra scandalous. With my voice dropped, I said, “We even talk over the phone.”
Tyra gasped the loudest, although they all had surprised looks on their smiling faces. “Like… he dials your number, the phone rings, and you pick up?” she asked.
I nodded, as if it was the most alien thing in the world.
“You guys don’t even FaceTime each other?” Milan asked, pushing aside his pink highlight-covered notes.
“Nope, just call. Now can you guys please stop acting like I admitted that we use lambskin condoms and churn our own butter?”
Kiley’s chain of snorts filled the room.
“How old is he?” Kiley asked, a question that I was sure was on everyone’s mind.
“Why? Does it look like there’s a big difference?” My insecurities made my cheeks burn hot and red.
“Nothing major. I was just wondering.” Kiley, too, was blushing.
“He’s forty.”
Kiley’ couldn’t control the surprise that flashed over her face.
“I know, I know. It is a big difference. But… I don’t know. I don’t care. Is that bad?”
“Of course it’s not bad,” Tyra said, Kiley and Milan both nodding with her. Will was sitting down and seemed to still be absorbing everything. He was my best friend, but I’d kept things between Beckham and me pretty quiet, barely telling anyone about us. It had been too new and fresh.
Tyra sucked her teeth. “Age ain’t nothing but a number. Two consenting adults? Go and fuck like little Energizer bunnies. Well, in your case, an Energizer daddy and his Energizer twink.” She cocked her head before I started to laugh, my cheeks getting even hotter.
“How’d you two meet?” Will asked, the eyes in the room swiveling to him.
I grabbed a seat at the table and went into the story of how we bumped into each other overseas, then again when I went to Stonewall Investigations. Kiley’s head almost exploded when she realized my brother and Beckham had been working together for months now.
“So he didn’t even know your real name when you two met?” Milan asked.
“Nope. I was fully acting like a freshly minted sorority girl stretching her boundaries on a cute little Eurotrip.”
“How is it?” Kiley leaned forward on the table. “Dating someone older? I think my oldest boyfriend was two years older than me, and he acted like a whining baby unless he had my tit in his mouth.”
Tyra almost snorted the water she had been drinking. “Ted?”
Kiley nodded, lips pursed. “Ted.”
I laughed, remembering her loser of a boyfriend. “It’s been… it’s been perfect. I don’t know. You’d think we’d have trouble finding things in common or finding things to talk about, but it’s the total opposite. We keep discovering that we like the same things. And then the things I don’t know about, he teaches me. Vice versa. I’ve already downloaded Snapchat on his phone, and he’s sent me about four hundred and twenty snaps of him with that puppy filter on.”
Kiley put a hand to her chest, her face contorting as if I’d actually just brought out a box of puppies. “That is sooo cute.”
“And look at you. You’re literally glowing,” Tyra said. “You deserve this, Olly. Someone who has your back, someone you connect so well with.” She paused. I could tell there was a runaway train of emotions barreling toward the station. She had been close to Derrick and was as devastated as me when he was taken from us. I knew that all she wanted was to see me happy, and for the past few weeks, I don’t think I’d ever felt happier.
“It’s been really nice, I can’t lie. He’s so different compared to the other guys I’ve dated after Derrick.”
Kiley snorted. “Yeah, you started going for the crazies, didn’t you?”
“Or they started going after me. Whatever, the point is, Beck is completely different. He’s got his life sorted, a comfortable and stimulating career, a house that’s his own. And, the most important thing of all, we’re always laughing. Always laughing and talking and having the best time. Seeing him smile and hearing him laugh seriously gives me soo much life.”
My cheeks hurt from how bad I was smiling.
“Does he have any kids or ex-spouses?” Tyra asked.
“No kids, and a few exes. He’s been hurt pretty bad, so I don’t think he likes the whole swipe right or left thing.”
“Does he… have any straight brothers?” Tyra batted her thick lashes.
“Only child,” I said, chuckling and shutting down any hopes.
“Just keep your eyes open, Oliver.” It was Will, who was sitting back in his chair, still looking a little stunned. I didn’t blame him. He had come over here for an escape from his situation, from his breakup. And here I was, talking about my new and shiny relationship.
“I’m sure he knows,” Milan said, his shoulders stiffening. Milan and Will never gelled very well.
“I’m just saying. It’s all happening really fast, it seems.” Will looked like he was going on the defensive. “I just had my relationship crack into a million pieces. Happy endings aren’t always guaranteed. I just want you to be careful.” He was looking directly at me. I could sense the concern coming from him, and I was grateful for it, even if it was a little unwarranted.
“Beckham really does feel like my perfect match. I know it’s too soon to say for sure, but, guys, I haven’t been this happy in such a long time. I’m almost too happy, if that makes any sense. Like this feels wrong with how good it’s all going.” I felt bad talking about this knowing Will must be hurting from his breakup, so I opened my notes and dropped a hand on the paper. “All right, enough about me and my budding relationship. Let’s get to work. Will, if you want, you can put the TV on in my room and take a nap or something.”
Will checked his watch before standing up. “I think I’ll take a fifteen-minute nap and then head home. Thanks.” He put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed before excusing himself from the table and disappearing down my hallway. The rest of us got back to studying for five minutes before Kiley thought of another question to ask me.
We talked about Beckham for the rest of the day, leaving the endocrine system behind and focusing solely on the man who’d been running through my dreams every single night.
15 Beckham Noble
I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face, even if I tried. I pulled into the apartment complex where my interview would be, smiling from ear to ear and tapping away on the steering wheel to the beat of the pop song playing on the radio. I’d been smiling since I woke up, after reading the “good morning” text from Oliver, attached with a picture of his two cats sunbathing in the morning sun. He had said we needed to join them later in the day. I told him I was down for some naked sunbathing, so long
as it was with him.
Oliver, the man who’d stormed into my life and pushed away all the clouds with that illuminating smile of his.
It was scary. I was falling hard and fast, and that scared the piss out of me. I’d been mugged off plenty of times before by guys who I had wrongly assumed were as into me as I was them. Instead, they just used me for some good sex and stability, and then they’d drop me the second they felt an ounce of boredom.
What if Oliver got bored? He could download any app and have ten dates lined up within the hour. What if I wasn’t good enough to keep him around? The fear had planted itself in a dark, dusty corner of my brain, but it was growing louder and louder as the days went on. As things started to seem almost too good to be true.
I parked in front of a tall pale yellow window, the walls chipped and needing a new coat of paint. There were kids riding up and down on the street on their Razor scooters, chasing after each other. There was a lake next to the building. A family of ducks waddled out of the water and straight toward me. With no bread to offer them, I walked around them and up the steps to the apartments’ call box. I dialed in the number I was given and waited a few rings until someone answered.
“Hallo?”
“Hey, Greg. This is Beckham with Stonewall, here for the interview.”
“Ah, of course! Come right up.”
A loud buzz followed. I opened the heavy door and stepped inside. He was already waiting for me outside his apartment door, smiling and waving.
“Beckham! Hi, hello.”
Greg Williamson did not look like the man I’d been expecting to meet with. From Oliver’s account, I painted a picture of a gruff older gentleman with a brash attitude, a beer belly, and a permanent scowl on his scarred face.
Instead, I got a brightly dressed man with a sharp haircut and a warm smile. He was wearing a pair of light-blue shorts held up with a neon yellow belt, a pink polo shirt tucked into his waist, wrapped together with a pair of blue Sperry boat shoes, encapsulating the essence of Miami in one outfit.
His apartment was as eclectic as his wardrobe. There were dozens of vases holding brightly colored fake flowers and plenty of books strewn about the small living room, most of them appearing to be self-help books. There was an old couch still upholstered in a flowery fabric. There was one window, and the thin red blinds were shut. The only light was coming from a thin floor lamp that appeared to be leaning against the wall. It also smelled like mothballs and lavender.
This was going to be interesting.
“Sorry I couldn’t come to your offices,” Greg said, flopping down on the couch and patting the cushion next to him, inviting me over. “I’ve been having such a busy week. I have an outdoor fund-raiser in an hour and a half; that’s why I’m dressed so spiffy today.”
I contained the eyebrow arch. “Well, I don’t want to take up too much of your time, then. Let’s get right into it.”
“Let’s.” Greg clapped his hands and angled himself to me, sitting with a foot underneath him. This was not how I expected this meeting to go.
“Like we discussed over the phone, I’m here because I’m investigating the assault that occurred on Oliver and his boyfriend.”
“So tragic,” he said, taking a deep breath. “My heart broke when I heard the news of Derrick’s passing.” I normally felt confident in my judge of character, but Greg was throwing me off. He seemed sincere, but he was also suspect number one currently.
“How did you find out that he had died?” I knew Oliver wasn’t using Greg as a shoulder to cry on.
“At first, I overheard a few of Oliver’s friends talking in the hallway before they went into his apartment. That was when I first found out.”
The next question was one I knew the answer to. “Were you and Oliver close?”
“Oh no. Not at all, no.”
Okay, I was expecting a lie to be what came out of Greg’s mouth, but instead I seemed to be getting nothing but the truth.
“I was a walking shitbag of a human back then. I had prejudices and I was terribly homophobic. I was such a shit neighbor.” He paused and dabbed at his eyes. I noticed them glistening in the dim light of the living room. “I was running. I ran so hard that I trampled over everyone in my way.”
“Running from what?”
“My own sexuality.” He couldn’t dab at his eyes fast enough. A couple of tears overflowed their banks and spilled down his cheeks. “I saw Oliver and Derrick, and I saw how proud and happy they were together, holding hands and kissing and living exactly the life I wanted to live. It was an anger that made me lash out.”
“In what ways did you lash out?”
Greg took a moment to compose himself. I could see the visible pain this caused by talking about it. Surprising, especially since he was still a homophobic twat up until the day Oliver moved out of the apartment, which had been three years ago. Plenty of time to change, but suspicious timing if he was looking to throw people off his trail.
“I was a dick. I’d make dumb comments as they walk by, and I’d… oh God, I was just terrible. I don’t even want to say the things I did out loud. I’d take down their pride flag. Leave it on the floor like trash. It was horrible.”
“Did you ever get physical with them?”
His eyes almost popped out of their sockets. “Hurt them? No, no, absolutely… oh no. You don’t think… I didn’t do it, I couldn’t have. I swear, please. I would never.”
The dawn of realization broke inside Greg’s nervous brown eyes.
“You have to believe me,” he continued. “I’d never hurt anyone. Not physically. I own the mental trauma I inflicted, and I regret that every single day of my waking gay life. But I didn’t, and I would never, beat someone up. Kill someone. No. No, no.”
He was almost on the brink of tears. I had to regain control of this interview before he spiraled downward and I lost any chance of gaining valuable information.
“Okay, let’s double back. You said you were running from your sexuality. Did you realize something in yourself?”
Greg nodded, a streak of wetness glistening on his cheek. “I mean, I knew, ever since I could remember, I knew I was gay. I just… I was so scared. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t have any friends, and I had no guidance. I lashed out instead of asking for help.”
And out of all the people in the world, Oliver may have been the one who could have helped Greg out. He had one of the biggest hearts I’d ever known, and I just knew that he would have made a difference in Greg’s life if he were just allowed.
“When did you officially accept it?”
“It was around Christmas, two years ago.”
As touching as Greg’s story was, it didn’t quite help in easing my suspicion. The timing still allowed Greg to have lashed out at Oliver and Derrick. And even though Greg was adamant on the fact that he’d never hurt anyone, that didn’t exonerate him. He could just be an excellent liar, or he had connections to people who would hurt someone, depending on how much money was offered.
“What’s your job, Greg?”
And do you make enough money to hire a hit man?
“My job? Oh, I’m a florist. I used to work reception at a doctor’s office, but being a florist is one of my dreams come true.”
Okay, so he probably wasn’t making hit man kind of money.
“I swear, I’m a changed man. I donate to GLAAD, and I volunteer weekly at the local shelter. We still see so many kids coming through because they were kicked out of their homes. I can’t… it hurts to even think about.”
I knew Greg wasn’t lying about his volunteer time. I had been following him for a couple of days now, before this meeting, and I had seen him go to the shelter, where he had been greeted warmly and seemed to get along with everyone. I didn’t catch him going to work, but judging by the dozens of vases all holding fresh flowers around his apartment, I figured he wasn’t lying. I still asked for the name of the florist shop just to follow up, though.
There wa
s more to mine from Greg. He was seeming less and less likely to be involved, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have information on who could be behind this.
“When you were hostile toward Oliver and Derrick, did you also have friends who acted the same way? Anyone who would hang out with you often?”
Greg seemed to search his memory for a moment. “No. I was a loner for the most part. That part of my life’s gotten better, too. I joined the YMCA and go out to social events every now and then. I’m not the same person I used to be.”
His eyes were saying he spoke the truth. I believed him, but I still didn’t exonerate him. Derrick’s killer was still on the loose, and I had to make sure I followed every single thread, no matter how thin it might be.
“Is there anyone you can think of that knew Oliver and had shared your same attitude? Not friends, but anyone you may have seen around the apartment complex?”
“Right, no, I don’t… well, you know what. There was this one guy. I never really spoke to him except for a handful of times. Don’t even know if he lives in the state, but I remember him having a very strong hatred toward gay people.”
“You figured that out from a handful of times?”
Greg nodded. “He was very adamant about it. I remember now. Oliver and Derrick were walking past us to their apartment, and they were holding hands. I saw this man’s eyes drop to their hands, and then his face turned bloodred. He started saying things like ‘men shouldn’t be with men’ and ‘how unnatural it is.’ He said some worse things, too…”
“His name and contact information?”
“I think… uh, what was his name…Mario! Mario Reyes.”
Well, look at that.
Another thread.
I knew exactly who Mario was.
“He owned a landscaping company, that’s how I knew him.” Greg chewed on his nails as he spoke. “Kings Landscaping, he called it. He was asking me if I had any family that could use his business. Oliver didn’t see Mario’s reaction to his hand holding, so I wasn’t surprised when I spotted Oliver trying to talk to Mario before he left. My window was open, and I heard most of the conversation. I think Oliver had asked him for rates; apparently his parents were looking for a good landscaper. Well, Mario nearly spat in his face. Only hit the poor kid’s shoes because there were so many people out on the street at that time. Of course, none of us cowards said anything. I ran to the window to see what was going on. I’ll never forget the look on Oliver’s face. All he wanted was to hire the guy.”