“Well, he better go’n an’ get used to it!”
Once she releases me, I can see the look of pure joy on Irus’s face. Perhaps I should let myself feel some of his excitement. Not all the laughter is coming from Irus, though. Kane is laughing too. The scars on the man’s face are faint. The small circular scar on his throat makes me swallow instinctively.
Kane and I may look alike on the surface, but there are differences I notice as he holds his hand out to me. He’s graceful and soft-spoken. His smile is sweet. I can’t see him busting balls in a locker room the way we do. Kane isn’t effeminate. He’s just gentle. His handshake is firm, and his New York accent is subtle. Not thick at all. I don’t know what part he’s from, but I’d be lost anyway. I’m just a country boy raised on a mountain.
“Jackson, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Kane says. Well, he sounds genuine.
“Jesus, Irus. You do have a type,” says Garrett, who is a tall man with dark curly hair. The guy’s built like a tank or a linebacker.
“You know I like my men pretty.” Irus traces his thumb along my twice-broken nose.
“You’re a fine one to talk,” Kane says to Garrett. “You spend Sundays drooling all over Jackson on the TV.”
“It’s football! Why can’t I get you to understand? I’m not drooling over him.”
“Sure you’re not,” Kane says.
Garrett yanks him damn near off his feet and into his chest. “Why do you have to be a brat?”
“Because it gets you to go all caveman.” Kane laughs. “I like you riled. And you’re too easy.” Kane’s voice is whiskey rough, yet soft. A little raspy. He lulls me in easily.
After a second, I snap out of it. “Well, we should probably head out. It’s a bit of a drive. We’re going to do Thanksgiving at my house. I think we can find room for everyone to sleep.” Just as I finish my words, the sky opens up, and freezing rain pours down from the heavens. Thanks. Just what I need. I knew this was gonna be a shit day. Rain down here means fresh snow at the mountain.
* * * *
Back at the house, Jared thumps snow inside as he helps bring in the bags. The fire has died down, but I stoke it back to life, throwing a log on from the wood box. It’s about empty, so I go out to start loading the box from the outside. The summer before I went off to college, I built this wood box so Mom wouldn’t have to always go outside to bring in wood. A nice thought, but I had to quit school in California to come up here anyway. The university in Seattle was a lot closer. Although I didn’t get a full-ride scholarship like the one I left behind. Mom was just too weak to be alone.
Unfortunately, that brought me back together with Paul, who went from coaching high school to college. Paul was the one who helped me get into the university’s football program after Mom died. I’d begun sleeping with him because he promised to retire from the charity and never touch another kid again. By my junior year, I couldn’t take Paul anymore. I needed to get away from him. He had started to act like a psychotic girlfriend, always making demands on my time, stalking me. I’m surprised I was able to keep my grades up with him interfering. Just like when I was a kid, he’d come yank me out of class. As soon as I could announce going pro, I never looked back and didn’t finish college.
The smell of the cut wood fills my nose, along with the fresh cedar trees and pines. The crunch of the snow underfoot leaves me feeling happily isolated as I stack the wood from the lean-to into the wood box. Anything to take my mind off Paul or my house full of people. Unfortunately, the act of stacking wood, the repetitive motion requiring no real higher thinking, always leaves me contemplating everything on my mind.
Maddox said they would come out here for my deposition after Thanksgiving. Am I the one holding up Paul’s arrest? Jared will be gone after the holiday. Will Irus go stay at his home with his family? He probably should. It’d give me a break from having people in my house. The question is, should I send him away? Will he be hurt?
“Hey, man, what’re you doing out here? My auntie’s having a fit over how great your house is, and you’re nowhere to be seen.”
“Need to fill the wood box. Don’t want anyone getting cold.”
Tension shows in Irus’s face. His brows point toward the bridge of his nose, his lips a flat line, telling me he wants to say more. Instead, he trudges over and starts shifting logs from the stack. He hands them to me, and together we get the wood box filled.
“What’s wrong with the twenty-first century, Jacks?”
“Nothing. This is how I live. Don’t make me change.”
“Not trying to make you change. Just bitching is all. At least you have satellite TV.”
“Gotta be able to watch football.”
The squareness in Irus’s shoulders eases. His smile appears. “Yeah, boy. For that, I’m appreciative.”
“There you go, using them fancy words.”
Irus slugs me as he heads to the door. Not to be outdone, I scoop up some of the snow piling up on a shrub. “Irus!”
Yes! Hit him in the grill. Sucker. His easy posture disappears. I know his body language. Adrenaline pitches my heart against my sternum. I take off, more sure-footed in the snow than my predator. With quick jukes, I rabbit around to the backyard, thwarting his tackle. He lands face-first in the thick snow.
“You falling down, Irus? Hey, stone feet, thought you were a defensive back! Second best in the league?” The last of my taunt is muffled by the snow. Irus jams me in the back. I sprawl in a whitewash as he crawls over my backside to pin me to the cold ground.
Something big takes Irus out. One minute he’s there, and then poof, no Irus. The sound of his struggle, panting breath, and a few choice expletives reach me as I roll on my side. At first glance, it looks like a bear. I scramble to my feet. Gotta get to the house for the gun. I’m almost to the slider when laughter stops me dead. I turn around.
Jared stands over Irus, who’s covered from tip to toe with snow and laughs maniacally. Irus sweeps the kid’s feet, takes him down, and smears snow into his face. My God. Jared’s wearing my grandfather’s fur coat made from the one grizzly he shot on a hunt in Alaska. Grandpa said he’d never do that again, but used the pelt for a heavy, full-length winter coat.
“Hey, I almost shot you,” I yell.
Jared glances up. “Who? Me? You don’t even have a gun. Do you?”
“I do. In the house. Can’t be out here in the wilderness without protection.”
Kane, Garrett, and Miss Beulah come out the slider.
“Lord, child! What’re ya wearin’?” exclaims Miss Beulah. I do love the way she talks, and I get the strangest feeling I’ve met her before. Huh. Probably just seeing a bit of her in Irus.
“A bearskin,” Jared says, standing tall, towering over Irus, who’s once again lying on his back in the snow.
“Irus, get yur ass up and in this house right now. Y’all be gettin’ soaked.”
“Yes, Auntie.” Irus climbs to his feet. He knocks Jared into the snow.
“Hey!” Jared hollers.
Once Irus is in front of me, I can see his shit-eating grin. The man’s had his fun. Jared crawls through the snow, pretending to be a bear stalking him. With due diligence, I sweep the snow from Irus’s dreads, keeping him distracted long enough for the bear to take him down one last time.
“Ow! There’s concrete under this snow, punk!” Irus yells.
They roll around a few more times. I leave them at it to go warm up. Inside, Miss Beulah’s putting the kettle on the stove.
“Cocoa is in the top cupboard there.” I point toward the pantry.
Kane pipes up. “Oh, I want some.”
“Have all you want,” I say, heading into the foyer to hang up my coat and slip off my boots.
Jared and Irus slide inside the door, pushing and shoving each other. Snow is everywhere. My mouth is open to admonish them when Miss Beulah beats me to the punch.
“Stop right there, I-reese Beaumont. Get yur happy ass back outside that door and ki
ck the snow offa yur feet. Ya ain’t comin’ in here messin’ up yur man’s clean floor. Ya too, little boy, get on after it, y’all. Clean up or no cocoa.”
“Cocoa? Oh man, can I have coffee?” Jared asks with a whine.
“Don’t ya be sassin’ me, child. I’ll smack ya upside the head jus’ same as Irus. Beat both ya boys till ya got sense back in them thick skulls.”
All the bright red in Jared’s cheeks flushes away, and he’s out the door with Irus, knocking the snow off each other. Irus’s voice penetrates the glass door.
“I told you, boy. She be a tough one.”
“A ballbuster,” Jared says.
“You don’t be letting her hear you. You saw how much her love hurts. Imagine her pissed off.”
“I’d rather confront the bear,” the kid mutters.
Miss Beulah chuckles as she pours the steaming water into the mugs. I’ve heard a few of the guys call Irus I-reese before, but not like Miss Beulah. For some reason, the sound sticks in my head, like I’ve heard her say it before. Not earlier, but… Must be déjà vu.
Garrett comes in and takes his cup. “The kid’s got a point. Might stand a better chance with the bear.”
“Momma’s more fun,” Kane says.
I can’t stop staring at Beulah. There’s something strange about the way she moves. When she gets excited, her voice drops low, like a man’s. My brain recognizes something familiar, but I swear, if I’d met her before, I’d remember.
Irus gives Kane a wicked grin and sneaks into the kitchen as Jared closes the slider. Without warning, Irus jumps on his aunt, wrestling with the big woman, laughing his ass off as her meaty hands scruff him up as if he were wearing pads. Once she has him, he’s hers to do with as she pleases, jerking him around the kitchen as if on a tether—
“Holy fuck!” I can’t… I can’t believe what I’m seeing or thinking. “Bert Beaumont?”
Everyone stops and looks at me. Irus’s grin is still in place, but it withers as his aunt…uncle, or whatever, lowers him to the floor.
“Bert Beaumont is your aunt?” My face flushes. I can feel it heat up. God, I’m such a fool. I feel like I’m eleven all over again. Letting this emotion get the better of me, I run down the hall to my childhood bedroom before Irus can say anything.
The look on his face, wide, stunned eyes, and Beulah/Bert just as mortified. I don’t know what’s worse. The shock, my outburst, or the fact I’m rummaging through the closet to find a box I stashed as a young boy. I lift the lid. The smell stings my nose. Grass. Dirt. Sweat. All the smells of safety. Of Bert Beaumont, number ninety-nine. The things I love about football, but with it comes the horror.
Everyone crowds into the room. I feel like an idiot, kneeling on the floor, swallowing emotion and hoping the sting in my eyes is from the mothball stench of the old jersey I clutch in my trembling hands. “I didn’t know he was your uncle. I didn’t make the connection. Beaumont?”
A heavy black hand rests on my shoulder. Her voice is quiet but deep. The man’s voice I remember laces through this feminized version of Bert Beaumont. “I didn’t realize Jackson McCoy was little Jackie.”
I look up at Beulah. My childhood crashes down around me. I don’t know what to do. Bert groans as he lowers himself to the floor. Shit. Beulah. Fuck, my head’s so twisted up right now. Bert tugs on the jersey, but I refuse to relinquish the material, afraid of God knows what.
“Come on, baby-child. Let go.” He/she holds it up to take a look. “Ya didn’t even wash it, honey.”
I shake my head. My voice box is broken. I don’t think my throat will let out any sound.
“Tha’s the year theys sold the team. Moved us ta New York. Oh child, ya must’ve been ’bout ten years, eleven if a day, but ya were little. I-reese was only eight, but yur height. ’Member you two traipsing ’round like ya owned the joint. S’tiny, ’n’ alone.”
I’m just a kid, small for my age, being dragged around a pro football locker room by Coach Paul Phelps. Big Bert Beaumont towers over me, his massive hand musses my hair, and his laughter echoes in the room.
“Go’n now, kid. Go play wit’ my nephew. After the game, we’ll get ya boys some ice cream.” Bert hollers, “I-reese!”
A dark child with wild hair appears. I look at Coach Paul. He’s not happy with me. He doesn’t like it when I hide behind Big Bert. Paul won’t make me touch him when Bert’s around. Paul is afraid of the man.
“Go’n, baby-child, go play wit’ I-reese, no un gonna hurtcha.” That big boom of laughter again, but it’s followed by a look of hate flung in Paul’s direction. Big Bert’s daring Coach Paul to say anything. At least, he is in my daydreams, when I imagine Big Bert taking me away from Paul, and then my mom gets better.
The fantasy always ends with Bert marrying my mom, and the mysterious I-reese comes to visit. I want to know him more, but I’m afraid. He’s younger than me. Does that make me like Paul? I’d never touch him like Paul touches me, even though I like him. Such a pretty black boy, and I dream he likes me too. A tiny illusion. Doesn’t hurt anyone to just dream, right? I wish I could kiss him, but I know I can’t. I can’t be like Paul. I don’t want to be.
As I run off to play with Big Bert’s nephew, I’m afraid of what Coach is gonna do to me when everyone else is gone.
“Oh, baby-child. I coulda kil’t that man for ya. I can’t believe ya still got my jersey. Lord have mercy, it covered ya to yur knees. Such a tiny thing ya were, Jackie.”
“Don’t call me Jackie.” I jerk away, having realized Beulah had her arms wrapped around me. Irus stands over us, the jersey now dangling from his hands. Jesus, I’d forgotten all this… I-reese? I should’ve remembered him. My head hurts. The memories bombard my mind. The blitz makes my skull ache. Pull yourself together. Don’t have a meltdown. My skin crawls. Like when Paul touches me. I can feel him on me right now. In me.
In the doorway, Kane ushers Jared out of the room. Garrett goes with them. I can hear Kane asking Jared questions about school and what subjects he likes. I listen until I can’t hear them anymore.
Irus crouches down in front of me. He shakes his head. His fingers trail through my hair. “So you’re the reason I’m so into blonds.”
The bed’s solid behind my back. Miss Beulah, next to me, is just as solid, and I’m trapped. Forced to recall horrible things. I’m at a loss, not really remembering a lot about back then, or the first time Paul actually fucked me. I remember Big Bert. The jersey. The anger. Paul used to only touch me. Make me touch him.
After Bert found us, Paul was mad at me, like I’d done something wrong. I had done something wrong, I guess. If I hadn’t been so enamored with Big Bert… His gentle brown eyes told me I was safe. There was something comforting about the big black man. I hid behind the man because I didn’t want Paul to touch me. It was a mistake. Paul made me pay. The next time was worse. If only Bert hadn’t caught us, then Paul would’ve been satisfied. Maybe he wouldn’t have forced me…
The memory of Irus is vague but not what Big Bert did to Paul. Too bad it didn’t stop him. That was the last time I saw Big Bert anywhere but Sundays on TV. No more hiding behind Bert or playing with his nephew, I-reese. The only part I enjoyed about being with Paul was taken away when Big Bert beat the shit outta the man and took me home, snuggled in the backseat with Irus, drowning in the oversize jersey. My clothes left on the shower room floor.
“Oh my God!” Kane exclaims from the kitchen. We run from the room. Kane and Garrett jostle up against the sliding glass door. Kane crouches down to look at something. Jared is just as captivated.
Four tiny paws press against the glass as dark bandit eyes peer into the house. My raccoons start to dance around the door when they see me. Kane gets down on his hands and knees to look at them on their level.
Grateful for the distraction, I grab some fresh carrots and leftover pot roast for my little minions. “You want to help me feed them?” I ask Kane. Like a little kid, he nods, a big grin splits his face.
The minute Kane sits, the two raccoons head over to him, eager for the carrot. Kane’s face lights up.
“That’s Larry, and the smaller one is Moe.”
“Do they think I’m you?” Kane asks. “I mean, can they tell the difference between people?”
Just then, Moe turns and ambles over to me. I hand him a piece of meat. Like a small child, he takes it with his tiny hands. “No, they just like you.”
“Aren’t they dangerous? Rodents? You know, carry rabies?”
“You mean like the rats in New York?”
“Those are small dogs. Had one for a pet once.” Kane laughs.
I crouch down next to him. “These guys are in between worlds. They survive without me just fine but survive with me even better. Mom used to have a cat door for her raccoons. I had to close it up because Larry, Moe, and their sister, Curly, get in and make a mess when I’m away for the season. They drive my housekeeper nuts.”
Kane hands Larry another baby carrot. He sits back and watches the faces staring through the slider as he nibbles.
“So, are you a mountain man? Like a lumberjack or something?”
I laugh. “I’ve not really given it much thought. I guess I’m a wilderness junkie.” Moe climbs up my leg. These guys are still young and small. Larry doesn’t have any hair on his tail, so he looks like a rat.
Kane looks around. “You said they have a sister?”
“Curly, she’s in the shed. She’ll come out later tonight. She’s shy.”
“Not these two.”
“Naw, these guys are pigs and attention whores.”
“They got my attention,” Kane says.
Movement at the sliding door draws my gaze, and I almost laugh aloud. Irus and Garrett are smashed against the glass by Miss Beulah. The assumption is she’s trying to see what the critters are up to with Kane.
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