The Truth of Yesterday

by Josh Aterovis

  “He's on the second floor?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Ok, so what's the plan now? Do I go in with you or do I stand guard?”

  I shrugged. I hadn't really thought that far ahead.

  “There're advantages to both. If I go in with you, I might pick up on something you would miss, but if I stay outside, then I can get help if something goes wrong.”

  I didn't even want to think about the sort of things that might go wrong, but I'd been in situations without back-up before and I knew how important it could be. “Maybe you should be back-up,” I suggested, a little worried that she wouldn't be happy with that, but she just nodded.

  “I'll follow you up to the second floor and stay out of sight until you're in the room, then I'll stay near the door. If anything goes wrong, you just scream like a banshee and I'll get help.”

  I smiled weakly and hoped like hell that we wouldn't have to put that plan into action. I led the way up the dingy stairwell. According to the plan, Chris stopped just out of sight and I approached the door alone. I knocked on the metal door using the door-knocker and waited for an answer.

  “Yeah?” came a muffled response from the other side of the door.

  “Tad? It's Killian Kendall, we talked on the phone?” There was a pause long enough to allow him to peer through the peephole and then the sounds of locks unlocking. The door opened a few inches, still attached to the frame by a thick chain.

  “Are you alone?” the boy asked. From the two inches of him that were in view, he was bare-chested and tousle-headed.

  “Um, yes,” I fibbed.

  The door shut for a second, followed by the sound of the chain being unhooked, and then reopened just wide enough to allow me to slide in. Tad quickly slid the chain back in place and shot the locks home. I began to feel a little trapped and fought a rising sense of panic. Was he going to do something to me? Would I have time to scream? Would Chris be able to get in here before anything happened? He turned to catch my uncomfortable expression.

  “I've lived here less than a month and I've been mugged twice, beat up three times, and almost raped once,” he said in a carefully casual voice. “I'm a little concerned with security. I hope you don't mind.”

  “I, uh, guess I can't blame you,” I said. He was wearing only a pair of denim cut-off shorts and I got the impression that he had only pulled those on to be polite. His body was pale, slender, and taunt with just the slightest hint of definition. His reddish-blonde curls were even springier than the last time I'd seen him and the halo effect was even more striking. Once again, I was struck by his ethereal beauty.

  “You can sit down,” he said, heading towards the couch in the center of the room. He folded himself onto the cushions with a cat-like grace that I envied. I felt like a Neanderthal plodding along after him. I sat self-consciously in an overstuffed leather chair to the right of the couch he had claimed. I tore my attention away from him to look around at the room. It was elegantly sparse with lots of black and chrome. Not much to offer in the knick-knack department. In fact, there was very little real personality to the room. It occurred to me that Razi had either rented or bought the apartment already decorated or he'd hired a decorator and given them free reign. I turned my attention back to Tad to find he was studying me with the same care I'd given him and the room.

  “You don't look like a detective,” he said.

  “I'm a private investigator,” I replied, playing the semantics game. “What did you think a detective should look like?”

  He grinned. “Fatter, older, and uglier.”

  I laughed. “Then I guess I should be flattered that I don't look like what you expected.”

  His eyes sparkled with humor. “Do you go to Michel's very often?”

  “Last week was my first time.”

  “What did you think?”

  “It was fun, but it kinda got ruined.”

  The sparkle faded. “Oh, yeah. Sorry about that.”

  I shrugged. “Well, that's what I'm here to talk about.”

  “So shoot.”

  “You said you met Paul?”

  “A couple times.”

  “What was he like?”

  Tad thought a moment before answering. “Quiet. He was friends with Razi, but they're really different. Razi is loud and likes to be the center of attention. Paul would rather sit in a corner and just watch everything. You'd forget he was there sometimes. But everybody seemed to like him.”

  “Somebody didn't,” I commented before I could stop myself. He frowned. “Sorry,” I apologized. “What did he look like? I never met him.” The question wasn't really relevant to anything, but I was curious. It would also help Tad loosen up if I asked questions that were relatively easy to answer to start with.

  “Cute. He has blonde hair, blue eyes, real small, and...I dunno...quiet somehow. He was really cute if you took time to look at him, but most of the time, if there were a lot of people around, you just kind of missed him somehow.”

  I was struck by how much his physical description could have fit me. Apparently, Micah liked a type. “Do you have any pictures of him?” I asked.

  “I don't think so.”

  “Can you tell me anything about him besides that he was quiet? What kind of a person was he?”

  “I didn't know him that well. I know Razi thought a lot of him. Razi doesn't have many guy friends. I think he feels threatened by them, like he sees them as competition. He didn't feel that way about Paul.” He fell silent and allowed him a minute to think. “He was always really nice to me,” he continued. “He was all concerned about me, always asking how I was doing and telling me if I ever needed any place to go I could stay with him. And it wasn't in a creepy sort of way, you know? It wasn't like he was hitting on me. It was like he genuinely cared. I think him and Razi might have even fought about me.” He stopped as if he'd said more than he'd intended.

  That caught my attention. “Fought about what?”

  “Um...” I could tell he was searching for something to tell me, probably a lie. I decided to head him off.

  “How do you know Razi? Is he your boyfriend?”

  “I guess you could say that.”

  “What would you say?”

  He shrugged. “Razi took me in when I didn't have anywhere else to go. I was living on the street, sick, hungry...He took me to the doctor, fed me and let me stay here.”

  “He sounds like a saint.”

  Tad made a face. “Not exactly. In exchange, he gets sex whenever he wants it.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “You ok with that arrangement?”

  “It's better than the streets. And let me tell you, Razi knows what he's doing. So I guess it's not all that bad.”

  “Are you gay?”

  He seemed surprised by the question. “What?”

  “Are you even gay?”

  “Yeah.” I could tell he was still so surprised by the blunt question that he'd answered truthfully.

  “How'd you end up on the street?”

  He looked away. “Does that matter?”

  “Maybe. You never know what will matter.”

  I didn't think he was going to answer at first, but then he turned back to face me and began to talk in low voice. Once he started, it was like a dam had burst and the words just kept flowing out of him until he'd spilled the whole story. “I grew up in this little dinky town in Virginia. My mom died when I was born so it was always just my dad and me. I think in some ways he always blamed me for her death; we weren't very close. I've known I was gay for a while now, probably since I was 12 or 13. I used to fool around with my best friend whenever he spent the night at my house or I stayed with him. I don't know if he was gay too or if he just liked to fool around; we never really talked about it. That all stopped when we got a little older, but I still liked guys. I met a guy online; he was a little older than I was and lived here in DC. We started dating but I was keeping it all a secret. He would drive to see me while my dad was at work
or we'd meet somewhere and spend some time together when my dad thought I was with friends. Then one night my dad came home from work early, I don't even know why, and he caught us...well, you know. It was bad. I thought he was going to kill us. My boyfriend, and I use the term loosely, bolted so fast I barely even saw him go. He left me to face my dad alone and I never saw him again. My dad beat the shit out of me. He never touched me again after that night, but I could tell he hated me. He hardly ever spoke to me and it was horrible living there. Finally, I just couldn't take it anymore. I left. I stayed a few nights with this girl I was friends with, but her parents said I couldn't stay. I didn't know where else to go, but I knew the guy I had been dating lived here so I hitch-hiked to the city. It was stupid. I didn't even know where to look for him once I was here. I've never been so scared in my life. Every night I thought I was going to be killed and I was half-hoping I would be. And then one night, I was begging for money outside a restaurant over on the Circle, you know, Dupont Circle

  ? There are a lot of gay people around there. Sometimes some of the guys would give me a little money if I did certain things for them, or let them do certain things to me. The next thing I know there's this guy telling me to come on. I figured he thought I was a hustler, which I guess I pretty much was, and he was taking me home for the night. I decided not to argue since a warm place to sleep sounded pretty good about then, no matter what I had to do to get it. It was Razi; he brought me here and told me to sleep on the couch and if anything was missing when he got up, he'd hunt me down and cut off my dick. I didn't know what was going on. I didn't sleep at all that night I was so scared. He got up the next morning, cooked me breakfast, and then took me to the doctor and shopping for clothes. I've been here ever since.”

  “He just took you in?”

  “Yeah. Just like that. For a few days I kept thinking I'd wake up and it would all just be a dream, but then the payments started and I knew it wasn't.”

  “Did he hurt you?”

  Tad blushed. “Not so that I minded.”

  “Did you feel forced?”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “I knew it was what I had to do if I wanted to stay here. He never said so in so many words but I knew. And it's not just sex you know. I also clean the apartment, wash the dishes if there are any, do the laundry, make appointments and some other stuff.”

  “Did Razi ever try to contact your father?”

  “He never even asked me my story.”

  “What about Paul?”

  He seemed suddenly wary. “What about him?”

  “Did he ask you for your story?”

  He seemed to be trying to decide whether or not to trust me. He made up his mind and nodded. “He's the only other person besides you that I've even told. I don't even know why I told you.”

  “Is that what Paul and Razi fought about?”

  He shrugged again. “Maybe. I don't really know.”

  Obviously, that was as much as I was going to get out of him at the moment. If Paul was the stand-up guy everyone kept telling me he was, then he had probably disapproved of Razi payment arrangement. He may have even wanted to contact Tad's father. I doubt Razi would have wanted to give up his personal houseboy.

  “How old are you again? 15?”

  He nodded.

  “And how old is Razi?”

  His eyes snapped to mine and grew round with fear. “You can't turn him in. Please! You can't do that. I know it's not great, but I'm fine. Really. It's better than living on the street and I don't want to go back to my dad. I know that's what they would do. I can't go back.”

  “Maybe they'd put you in foster care,” I said doubtfully.

  He sat up straight, his back rigid. “Like that would be so much better. Look, I'm almost 16. That's the age of consent, right? So in just a few more months, it won't even be illegal technically.”

  The panic in his voice was wearing me down quickly. I hated to hear him sounding like a terrified little kid.

  “Is Young even your real last name?”

  His startled look gave me all the answer I needed, but he answered anyway. “What difference does it make? There's no way I'm telling you now. You'd just go to my dad or turn me in. I swear, if I have to go back I'll run away again, and maybe this time there won't be any Razi to take me in. Or...or...I'll kill myself.”

  “Tad!” I interrupted before he could go into full-scale hysterics. “I won't turn him in, I promise. At least not until I know what's going on. I have to admit I'm not really comfortable with the whole situation though.”

  “It's not really any of your business,” he said stiffly.

  “I'm sorry,” I said quickly. I'd done a great job of ruining any sense of rapport we'd been building. I tried to reverse the damage. “You know, my dad beat me up when he found out I was gay too, and then he threw me out of the house.”

  Tad relaxed the slightest bit and I could see the curiosity in his eyes. “Where'd you go?”

  “I was lucky; I had someone to take me in. He was my friend's dad and he's gay too.”

  “Your friend or your friend's dad.”

  “Both actually.”

  “Oh wow. That's so cool. I wish I'd had somebody like that. It must be really cool living with your friend and all.”

  “Actually, my friend was murdered. That's kind of why I got into this sort of thing.”

  “Oh. I'm really sorry.”

  It was my turn to shrug. “It's been a couple years now. It doesn't hurt quite as much as it used to.”

  “What about your mom?”

  “She left my dad not too long after that. She moved away but let me stay with Adam, that's my friend's dad that took me in.”

  “You still live with him?”

  I nodded. He'd almost relaxed completely now, curling himself back into his feline pose. I was about to ask another question when a loud knock came at the door. Tad apparently was not only like a cat in his movements, but also as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs as the old saying goes. At the sound of the knock, he almost leaped right off the couch.

  “Tad? You in there?” a heavily accented voice called from the hallway. “Let me in.”

  “Shit,” Tad hissed, giving me a startled glance. “I thought you'd be gone before he got home.”

  “Will he be mad that I'm here? After all, I did come to talk to him.”

  “I don't know,” Tad said looking towards the door as another pounding knock sounded.

  “Just go let him in,” I said. “I won't tell him anything we talked about.” The boy cast me a grateful look and headed uncertainly towards the door. In the best case scenario, it was time for the second interview of my new case. In the worst, Chris and I would be testing out our emergency plan very soon.

  Chapter 12

  As Razi blew through the door, I was afraid it was going to be the worst case scenario.

  “Damn it, Tad, I don't know why you have to lock this place up like fucking Fort Knox. I feel like I'm in jail. And there's a creepy girl lurking around in the hallway. Do you know what that's about?” His verbal barrage came to a screeching halt when he spotted me standing awkwardly by the chair. Immediately, his expression changed into a semblance of pleasantry. “Hi, I remember you. You're Micah's little friend, right?”

  I tried not to bristle at the condescension in his voice. “My name's Killian.”

  “Like the beer,” he said. He was wearing obviously expensive clothing, dark slacks with a high quality white button-down shirt open at the collar. The white shirt set off his dark complexion and his black hair was pulled back into a pony tail at the nape of his neck. “So what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” he asked. He spoke English with only the slightest hint of an accent, but his careful pronunciation made me think that it wasn't his native tongue.

  “I'm a private investigator,” I told him. His eyes widened in surprise for a second, but his polite mask quickly slipped back into place. This guy was an excellent actor; I would hav
e to watch every nuance. “Micah has asked me to look into Paul's murder.”

  “Paul Flynn?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “Is that why you were at Michelangelo's? I thought you were dating Micah.”

  “I was-I am dating Micah. He didn't even know Paul was dead before he ran into you.”

  “Oh. Well, what do you want with me?”

  “I'd like to talk to you. You knew Paul, you knew what his life was like, you were the one who found him.”