Behind the Tears (Behind the Lives)

by Hansen, Marita A.

  “What a load of bull. It wuz your bloody temper that got him hurt, no one else. You shouldn’t have attacked Tyler.”

  “Tyler took advantage of him!”

  “I doubt that. Corey’s the one who takes advantage of people. Look what he did to Juliet, and not to mention what he did to you with the threesome. He’s lucky you didn’t bash him for that.”

  “I wouldn’t hurt him.”

  “Maybe not intentionally, but you needa back off or else you’re gonna push Corey further away. He needs someone like everyone else, and if it’s Tyler then at least the guy’s good looking and has a bloody nice car. Sheesh, I’d love to drive it again, and if Tyler’s his boyfriend, he might let me. It wuz such a sweet ride—”

  “It’s just a car.”

  “Are you crazy? It’s not just a car, it’s a freakin’ Alfa Romeo 159 3.2 JTS. Didn’t you hear that V6 engine? And if you were nicer to Tyler he might let you drive it too—”

  “I don’t wanna drive his bloody car; I want him to keep away from Corey.”

  “That’s Corey’s decision not yours, and if he wants Tyler as a boyfriend, get over it, cos Corey won’t stay your mate if you keep beating up his dates.”

  “Tyler’s not good enough for him.”

  “Are you shitting me? Tyler’s way outta Corey’s league; I don’t know why that dude is even interested in my bro.”

  “No way. Corey is way better lookin’ than Tyler. It’s Tyler who’s out-kicked his coverage, not the other way round.”

  “Are you blind, dude? Tyler looks like a freakin’ model, and that car wuz an absolute babe.”

  “Shut the fuck up ’bout the car.”

  “But it purred, man, it purred—”

  “You care more about Tyler’s car than your own brother! And if you’re not gonna do anything ’bout that sleazebag, I will.”

  “God, you’re a selfish prick. You don’t have a right to say who Corey can and can’t see.”

  “I’ve got every bloody right, I fuckin’ love him!”

  “You what?”

  Sledge went silent.

  “Holy crap!” Naf said. “That’s why you’re all hyper, you’re jealous. Man, I would never have pegged you for a fag.”

  “Cos I’m not, you moron! I love him as a mate.”

  “Yeah, I really believe that.”

  “If you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m gonna come round and beat the shit outta you.”

  “Sounds like you’re being a bit overly defensive. And if you want Corey, he’d definitely say yes, my bro loves you too. Just tell him what you feel.”

  “What I feel? And you’re calling me a fag? Go fuck yourself.” Sledge hung up, aching to smack Naf’s face in. And reactions like Naf’s were precisely why he couldn’t go with Corey, because he had a bad problem with tripping over his tongue and saying the wrong thing. And if he fucked Corey, someone would eventually find out... Sledge leaned his back against the shed, and closed his eyes. But he wanted to, although he didn’t understand why. He wasn’t into dudes, and the transvestite couldn’t be counted, because technically he got a hard-on for what looked like a chick. But how did it explain him getting one for Corey, and why was kissing Corey so much better than all the chicks he’d ever kissed. He wished Corey had just left it at the kiss, because it had been perfect, but the little shit had to ruin things by grabbing his cock, then showing off his own one. As if he was going to touch that. No bloody way, he wasn’t a faggot... Was he?

  “Sledge!”

  Sledge jumped, then poked his head around the corner of the shed to find Mr. Murphy looking for him. “I’m here, Mr Murphy,” he said, stepping out.

  “What’re you doin behind there, lad?”

  “Just needed some privacy, I don’t like pigs… I mean cops.”

  “It doesn’t matter, you still have to talk to him, and he needs to ask you some more questions.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Sledge followed Mr Murphy inside.

  The officer looked up from the couch as they entered the lounge. “Have you managed to get a hold of everyone?”

  “Almost all, just...” Sledge swore. He’d forgotten Beth.” He pulled out his phone, getting her on the fourth ring. After relaying the message, Beth started babbling hysterically, asking where Dante and Ash were. “Heading for Craven’s. Look, I can’t talk right now, I’ve gotta go, just don’t go near the house. Chaz may not come back, but the pigs don’t want anyone gettin’ in the way if he does.” Sledge hung up before she could reply.

  “Another thing,” the officer said, not looking amused. “Do you know a Deano Jones?”

  Sledge slid his phone into his jeans, realising he’d let slip the word pig. “Not personally, other than he’s Len’s cousin. Why?”

  “While you were outside a colleague radioed through, bringing me up to speed on a new situation that has arisen. After identifying his cousin’s body, Deano Jones lost it and started ranting that he was going to kill your brothers, then took off.”

  “And you lot didn’t stop him?”

  The officer frowned. “They tried to, but Mr Jones attacked the two officers who were in attendance, knocking one out and breaking the other’s nose. We’re currently looking for him. A car is at his son’s house right now in Freeman’s Bay, while another is at his place.”

  Sledge’s face fell. “My mate’s at his son’s house, and Tyler doesn’t live in Freeman’s Bay, it’s Herne Bay.”

  The cop grabbed his radio. “We have Freeman’s Bay on file, what’s the new address?”

  Sledge told him.

  The officer radioed it through, then refocused on Sledge. “Does Deano Jones know there’s a connection between your family and your friend?”

  “Not that I know of.” Sledge pulled out his phone and dialled Corey’s number. It rang through to the message system. He left a brief message, warning Corey about Deano coming, then texted a message, then recalled him, hoping he’d pick up. When Corey didn’t reply, he went for the door.

  “Where are you going?” the officer asked.

  “To get my mate back.”

  25

  Corey

  Corey opened his eyes at the sound of banging. Yawning, he pulled his right arm out from under Tyler and sat up, the limb having gone stiff from the position. His mate continued to sleep, no doubt exhausted from all the crap that had gone down earlier. Tyler looked battered and bruised, both emotionally and physically, his swollen eyes not only from Sledge’s fists.

  Corey ran a finger lightly over Tyler’s split lip, upset that Sledge had hurt the guy again. Just because Tyler did him, didn’t mean Sledge had a right to knock the poor bloke about, and it wasn’t fair, there was no competition between the two, Tyler was too soft to do damage to anyone. Man, why couldn’t Sledge stop being a prick and see that Tyler was nothing like his father, because if sons were clones of their dads he’d be a fat bastard who hated gays.

  Someone hollered, “Open up, Tyler!”

  Corey rubbed his eyes, wincing when he touched the bruised one. He bent over and scooped up his boxers from under the window and slipped them on, the memory of taking them off, making him wince again. He’d gotten so close to what he wanted, so fucking close!

  “I know you’re in there, your car’s outside!”

  Impatient git, Corey thought. He looked back down at Tyler as he pulled on his jeans. His mate was still dressed in the same clothes he’d come home in. Tyler had fallen asleep in his arms after Sledge had left, literally crying himself to sleep.

  “Tyler!” the person yelled again.

  Corey tugged on his shirt, then headed out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. He crossed the lounge and unlocked the front door, wishing he hadn’t opened it a second later. Tyler’s dad glared down at him. He’d thought the guy had looked terrifying yesterday, but today Deano had amped up the volume a hundred-fold, making Corey want to piss himself.

  “What the fuck are you doin’ ’ere?” Deano barked. “Farrah’s at my
place.”

  “Who’s Fa...” Corey stopped, instantly realising his mistake. He forced a laugh, even though he felt like crying. “Oh yeah, my girlfriend.” He swallowed as Deano’s bloodshot eyes narrowed.

  “Well?” Deano said, shoving Corey’s chest.

  Corey yelped.

  “I didn’t push that hard.”

  “My ribs are bruised.” He lifted his shirt to show Deano.

  Deano looked down, then back up at Corey’s face. “Where’s my son?”

  “Sleeping.”

  Deano shoved him again, making Corey stumble into the coffee table. “Now, answer my first question. Why’re you here?”

  “Staying with Tyler, he’s a mate.”

  Deano stopped advancing on him. He loosened up his shoulders and neck like he was getting ready for a round in the boxing ring, then lowered his gaze down Corey’s body.

  Terrified, Corey stared back, wishing he could move, run, do anything, even scream out to Tyler, but everything froze under Deano’s glare.

  “You don’t look like a faggot,” Deano said.

  Corey focused on Deano’s hands as they curled into fists. “I’ll go get Tyler,” he said, making a move for the bedroom. He squealed as Deano advanced on him, backing him up so fast that he knocked into the African sculpture. The wooden form landed on the floor with Corey on top of it.

  Deano grabbed Corey by the shoulders and hauled him over to the couch, throwing him down on it. “But you sure as hell sound like a faggot, squealer,” he said, placing his hands on either side of Corey’s head.

  Corey pushed his head back into the soft leather. “I-I’m not gay, sir.”

  “Don’t lie to me, and don’t gimme that bullshit ’bout Farrah either, cos I know why you’re here now.” Deano leaned in so close Corey could smell what he had for lunch. “You wanna bum my boy.”

  Corey shook his head.

  Deano’s left eye twitched. “You have no right to be here, my boy’s not gay; women love him. They always come round, still do, knocking at my door and asking for him.”

  Was the guy kidding? Tyler was abso-fucking-lutely-gay, his effeminate mannerisms hard to miss. But then again, if Deano was serious, he didn’t want to be the messenger. “I’m just a frie—” Corey’s head snapped to the side as Deano slapped him.

  “You’re a fuckin’ liar; otherwise you’d be with Farrah and not here.”

  Raising a hand to his cheek, Corey dropped his gaze, too terrified to look at the guy.

  Deano lifted his chin roughly. “Who bashed you?”

  “No one, I banged into—” Corey cried out as another slap stung his cheek.

  “I said, don’t lie to me.” Deano lifted up Corey’s T. “Looks bad to me. Did someone gay bash your puny-arse?”

  “No.”

  Deano exhaled shakily. “All I came over for was to see how my son was holding up, and you answer his door. Do you even know what’s happening to his family?” He grabbed Corey’s cheeks, his expression a mixture of anger and grief. “I betcha don’t. All you fags care about is getting off, using my beautiful boy while he’s suffering.” He ran his thumb under Corey’s eye, pushing into the bruised skin.

  Yelping, Corey jerked his head back.

  Deano clamped onto his chin tighter, his eyes narrowing. “I saw the way Tyler looked when he came over to my house with his black-eye and the plaster over his nose. I betcha tried it on with him and he didn’t like it, so you two fought.”

  “No, we didn’t—” Corey cried out as Deano slapped his cheek again.

  “Don’t interrupt me! Do you want me to teach you some manners, boy?”

  Corey shook his head, weighing up whether he should scream out to Tyler.

  “Maybe I should,” Deano said, turning Corey’s face. “Do you know what I wanna do to you right now, pretty boy?”

  He shook his head again, knowing damn well that Deano wanted to pound his piehole.

  “I wanna do what my son did to you, but ten times harder.”

  Corey’s eyes widened. Wrong hole! “P-Please, no, he didn’t f-fuck me, I promise, we-we just w-watched a movie.”

  Deano’s face fell then it hardened into a mask of hatred. “I didn’t mean that, you sick bastard!”

  Something banged in the bedroom as Deano ploughed a fist into Corey’s gut, the punch nothing like he’d ever felt before, Juliet’s ones kisses in comparison.

  The door opened, and Tyler hollered, “No!” as Deano’s fist struck again, this time connecting with Corey’s cheek. Sobbing from the pain, Corey curled up in a ball, then screamed as Deano yanked him off the couch by the neck.

  “Dad, no! He’s my friend!”

  Deano threw Corey onto the floor and brought a boot down on his right thigh, pulling out another scream. Tyler rammed into his father, making Deano stagger to the side. Deano pushed Tyler away, and grabbed Corey’s arm, dragging him towards the front door. Tyler started hitting his father, yelling at him to let go. When Deano didn’t, Tyler dropped down on Corey and wrapped his arms around him.

  “Let go, Tyler!” Deano hollered.

  “No!” Tyler tightened his grip on Corey. “Leave him alone!”

  Deano pried Tyler off Corey, and dragged his son kicking and screaming across the lounge.

  “Get in there!” Deano hollered as he tried to push Tyler into the bedroom.

  Tyler held onto the door frame, yelling, “I hate you! I hate you!”

  Corey pulled himself up by the couch, the pain unbearable, but his fear of Deano greater. Gritting his teeth, he limped outside, his right thigh hard to walk on. A door slammed inside, followed by Tyler yelling that Corey was his boyfriend. Corey glanced back. Deano was holding the bedroom door shut, and hollering through the wood that Tyler was lying.

  Corey staggered towards the neighbour’s door and banged on it. When no one answered, he tried the next apartment. The argument in Tyler’s apartment continued to flare, the yelling match so loud he could hear every word clearly. He stumbled to the third door, and banged on it, now screaming out for help. Noise came from inside, but the door remained closed. He started banging louder, crying out in frustration and fear when the owner told him to go away.

  He turned around, trying to figure out where to go next. A two-storey Art Deco house across the road caught his attention, the little kids out front staring at him, their expressions a mixture of fascination and fear.

  Corey snapped his head around as Tyler yelled at his father to stop. Deano was heading out the front door with Tyler hanging off his arm. Corey started half-running, half-limping down the driveway. The kids across the road ran for the front door, squealing for their mother.

  Behind Corey a scream split the air, Tyler calling out his name. Corey glanced back, horrified at the sight of Deano charging him. He went for the road, hope catching him in the chest as he saw a man and woman emerge from the house. The woman’s eyes widened, then she screamed, “Watch out!” her words overlapped by the screech of tyres.

  Corey turned just as the police car hit him.

  26

  Ash

  Ash jumped out of Corey’s car as it slowed down, getting an earful from Juliet in return, his sister yelling at him that he was a dangerous idiot. He turned around and waved at her to leave. She shook her head and drove off with Dante staring out the window at him, his brother’s expression almost mournful.

  Ash headed onto Tiana’s property, eyeing up the white van parked in the driveway, and wondering whether it belonged to the person who’d upset Tiana. He glanced through the lounge window as he passed by, hoping to spot the person, but instead got an empty lounge and dining-room in return.

  He jumped up the steps and knocked on the front door. When no one answered, he tried the handle, but found it locked. Calling out for Tiana, he knocked again, getting more and more anxious as the seconds ticked by. He jumped down the steps, about to head to the back of the house, when the door finally pulled open. He turned around, surprised to find Aroha looking out a
t him.

  “What’re you doin’ here?” you vile woman.

  “I had to drop off a package for you.”

  “You could’ve given it to Juliet to pass on.”

  “Juliet wuz here when I got it, and I wuz hoping to catch her before she came home. Naf’s acting up again, wanting her to move out cos she hit his brother.”

  “Sounds like the li’l twat deserved it.”

  “Yeah, but everyone’s protective of Corey, so Juliet’s in the dog box.”

  “It doesn’t matter, she’s coming to live with me, and if Naf even looks at her funny tell him I’ll be paying him a visit.”

  “Naf won’t touch her, so you keep away from him.”

  “Nuthin’ you can do about it, so get lost.” Ash walked up the stairs, annoyed when she didn’t move.

  “If you’re after Tiana, she popped out to drop off Angelo to a neighbour’s. She got really scared when some rough skinhead visited, asking questions ’bout you.”

  Ash straightened. “A skinhead?”

  “Yeah, a Pākehā fella with ACDC tattooed across his knuckles.”

  Ash’s hands clenched. “Deano fuckin’ Jones. How the hell did he know where she lives?”

  “Dunno. I came just as he wuz leaving. He didn’t hurt her, but Tiana still got spooked.” Aroha stepped aside. “Anyway, come on in, she said she’ll be back any minute.”

  Ash entered, heading for the lounge. A mug and a cup of tea were on the small table, along with a filter of coffee. Ash walked into the kitchen, dying for a wake me up, because he felt bloody exhausted. He opened the cupboard, looking for a mug, but only got plates.

  Aroha came up behind him and removed a mug from the cupboard on his left. “Do ya want me to heat up some coffee for you?”

  “No.” He snatched the mug out of her hand and headed into the lounge. He poured himself some coffee then took a sip, satisfied it was warm enough. He sat down on the couch as Aroha walked past with a cup of tea, her shaking hands making the teacup rattle against the saucer.

  “What’s wrong with you?” he said. “Not enough booze in your system?”