Something told me this wasn’t the first time he’d seen this movie.
The scene started. An actor, whose bowl haircut and round glasses did little to make him look any younger than his midthirties, stood next to bearish older man. They both wore wizard’s gowns. “But, Lord Dicksalot,” the younger man said in a somewhat incongruous Brooklyn accent, “I don’t know a spell to raise the dead!”
“Oh yeah?” answered the older man. “How about a spell to raisethis?” He flung open his robe to reveal that wizards don’t waste money on underwear.
“Lord Dicksalot! Your magic wand doth entice me!”
I had no moral problems with porn, but this dialogue was a sin.
Without his robe, Lord Dicksalot quickly fell out of character. “Then get on your knees and suck my big dick, boy.”
I could see only the back of Locke’s head and his upper back, but slight movements of his right shoulder suggested he wasreallystarting to enjoy the movie. He stood up and reached into the pocket into which he’d placed the other item he’d taken from the credenza. I couldn’t read the label from where I was, but I knew the red and black bottle. Slide Away, a sexual lubricant. Looked like Locke was about to go to town on himself.
I was glad he faced away from me.
Locke tried to twist the cap off the bottle, but it was new and sealed in shrink-wrap. He struggled for a bit, but it didn’t budge. “Goddamn it,” he cursed.
Locke pressed pause and started walking toward his desk. Shit. I scampered as far back as I could. As Locke walked around the desk, he was out of sight again, reappearing on the other side when he reached its front. He opened one of the middle drawers and lifted something out of it. I could see him only from the waist down, so I didn’t know what he’d taken.
I could, however, see that his magic wand was just aching to be waved.
“Might as well use this, too,” he muttered to himself, opening the top drawer. It just missed hitting me in the head as it slid toward him.
Locke stood there fussing with something. My legs were cramped painfully as I tried to stay as low as I could. I raised my butt off my heels for a moment to relieve the pressure when Locke suddenly slammed the top drawer closed.
The back panel of the drawer smacked me in the forehead with the force of a baseball bat. “Ow,” I cried, falling off my heels, painfully hitting the side of the desk with my right elbow. The arm went numb down to my fingers. I felt blood dripping onto my cheeks from just above my eyebrows.
“Who’s there?” Locke demanded.
Stupid and dazed from the blow to my head, it seemed like a good idea to deny everything. “No one,” I answered.
“Get out of there,” Locke yelled. He reached under the desk and grabbed me by my hair. “Now!”
I crawled out, saying, “Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.” Locke pulled me to my feet.
“You!” Locke thundered. He glared at me menacingly. Well, as menacingly as he could glare with only one eye.
The other was covered by a black eye patch.
In his right hand, he held the heavy brass letter opener I’d seen earlier.
He yanked my head back. I was too dizzy and disoriented from the blow to my head to fight back. I was also half blinded by the blood running from my forehead. I felt like I was going to throw up, and swallowed hard.
Locke pressed the tip of the letter opener against my exposed neck.
“If you know what’s good for you, boy, you better tell me what you’re doing here.”
40
It Had to Be You For a guy who just a few hours earlier had been camping around the office like Harvey Fierstein starring in the Judy Garland story, Locke had a pretty strong grip. Given enough time, I was pretty sure I could get away from him. Unfortunately, time was a luxury I didn’t have. Locke pushed the tip of the letter opener a little deeper into my neck.
“I’m not playing with you,” he growled. “Unless you want me to carve you up like a Thanksgiving turkey, you better tell me what the hell you’re doing here.”
That reminded me—Thanksgiving was next week. I’d completely forgotten about it. I was considering inviting Tony to my parents’, but . . .
Focus, Kevin, focus.
Thanksgiving was going to be a moot point if I didn’t come up with something quick. Locke had killed at least four people. I wasn’t planning on being his next victim.
What did I know about him that I could use?
“I, I . . .”What, Kevin, think!
I couldn’t catch my breath. I didn’t know if it was because of the way Locke was bending my neck back, or if it was fear constricting my lungs.
“I love you!” I squeaked through my distended throat.
“What?” Locke asked. He relaxed his grip just enough for me to straighten out my neck.
“I love you,” I said, making it up as I went along. “Ever since I first saw you, I love you, I love you, I love you. . . .”
OK, maybe my resume was paper-thin and I’d never get a real job. But I’d spent the past few years of my life seducing men. That, I could do.
Locke let go of my hair and I collapsed to my knees, gasping for air.
I looked up at him pitifully. I wiped the blood from my eyes with my sleeve.
Locke’s face betrayed little. He still clutched the letter opener.
I threw my arms around his legs, turning my head so my cheek pressed against his crotch.
“It’s wrong,” I gasped, still having trouble breathing. “I know it’s wrong for one man to feel this way about another. But I can’t help it.”
I shook my head back and forth, as if I was using Locke’s pants to wipe away my tears. Back and forth, back and forth, babbling the whole time.
“Oh, Father,” I said, “I know I’m a bad, bad boy. I just can’t stop thinking about touching you, loving you . . .” As I continued to cry and rub my face against Locke’s jeans, he responded in the manner I expected, and soon enough the spot I was massaging with my face was a lot firmer. I made sure to make a lot of contact with his reawakened wand, breathing hotly against it at every chance.
“My son.” Locke extended a hand to help me off the floor. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the hand with the letter opener. Locke sat in his desk chair and pulled me into his lap. Still holding my hand, he asked me, “Why are you wearing these?”
I took off my latex gloves. “I just felt so dirty, Father. I didn’t want to soil you with my perversions.”
“My son,” he said tenderly. Then he took the gloves from me and threw them in the trash.
I perched on the end of his knees, but he put his arm around me and pulled me closer, pressed me against his chest.
I didn’t like having him at my back like this, but I didn’t have much choice in the matter. Locke rested his hand on my tummy. “My son,” he said again. “You mustn’t be so hard on yourself. God understands that we are men, that we have male needs.”
I wriggled in his lap to keep him interested. His hand rubbed my stomach in slow circles.
You know you’re having a bad day when the best you can hope for is that the guy you’re trying to seduce doesn’t want to kill you untilafteryou’ve have sex with him. Not that I intended to take things that far.
“Oh, Father,” I moaned, trying to make my croaking voice sound sexy instead of terrified. “The things I’ve thought about doing to you. About touching you, taking you in my mouth, feeling you inside me, oh, Father!” I was now openly riding his hard dick and Locke had moved his hand under my shirt to my nipple.
“It’s fine,” Locke groaned, his voice thick with lust. I pivoted around in his lap so I was facing him. His face was a mask of need, his mouth open and panting.
I slid off his lap, my hands running along his sides, meeting in his lap. Yuck. I wish I’d left the gloves on.
On my knees again, I reached for his belt. I opened it carefully, reverently, as if it really was my first time doing this.
My trembling hands added to the scene, but that w
asn’t pretending.
Locke moaned.
My plan was to get his pants down to his ankles and then make a run for it. I thought about punching him in the nuts while I was down there, but while he still held on to the letter opener, that didn’t seem like such a good idea. The impact would probably make him double over, and that would just bring the dagger closer to my head.
I’d just have to take a chance on running. But then what? I still didn’t have anything to take to the police. If I went to them now, Locke could just deny everything and probably getme arrested for breaking into his campaign office.
I slid Locke’s pants down to his shoes. He was wearing white Fruit of the Looms.
All right,I thought.He might be a serial killer, but he’s still a dork.
His hard-on throbbed menacingly beneath the thin cotton. In this position, it’d be hard for him to run after me. It was time for me to take off. So why couldn’t I will my legs to move?
I could handle myself in a fight, sure. But with my life at stake? I felt my confidence evaporate like any chance I had of happiness with Tony.
Tony?Really?I’m thinking about Tony at a time like this?
Focus, Kevin, focus.
I had to run for it.
What if he caught me?
If only that blow to my head wasn’t so hard and I still didn’t feel so goddamndizzy.
I needed another option.
I needed a miracle.
Then one arrived.
41
Guilty “Sorry to bother you, sir,” I heard from the doorway. “He never showed.” Jason’s voice. From where he stood, he could see only Locke from behind, sitting in his chair.
“Ahem,” Locke said, “this isn’t the best time.” He put his hand on my head.
“Sir?”
“Just go, Jason. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Locke pressed down harder, holding me in place.
“All right, sir,” Jason said.
I pushed Locke’s hand away and jumped up. “Jason!” I screamed.
Jason was already walking away. He turned and his eyes opened wide. “Kevin?” I saw he was looking at the open gash on my forehead.
“Jason,” I said, running toward him. “You have to help me. He’s crazy!”
Locke stood up, his pants at his ankles, his underwear tented and damp. “What are you talking about?” he asked me. Then, to Jason, “He was here when I got here tonight. He tried to seduce me!”
“Looks like it was working.” Jason chuckled. Then, remembering his position, he added, “Sir.”
I grabbed Jason’s arm. “He was going to kill me. Look!” I pointed at the letter opener in Locke’s hand.
“This?” Locke let the weapon fall from his grasp. “I didn’t even remember I had this. My mind was on . . . other things.”
I bet.
“Don’t believe him, Jason,” I begged.
Jason put his arm around me. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and put it to my forehead. “Calm down, Kevin. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for all this.”
Jason had to believe me. “I’m not the first one he’s tried to kill,” I told him. “There have been others. Brooklyn Roy. And Sammy White Tee. Rueben and my friend Randy, but Randy didn’t die and . . .”
Locke looked at Jason. “I don’t even know who those people are.” He looked down for a moment and then back at Jason. “Wait, there was a boy named Roy, right? And wasn’t there a Randy?”
Jason squeezed my shoulder harder and started walking me out of the room. “Kevin, it sounds like you’ve had a very traumatic night. Why don’t we let Father Locke collect himself and talk this out . . .”
Locke interrupted him. “Wait a minute, Jason. Sammy White Tee—could that have been that young man Samuel you introduced me to? The one you told me had written the fan mail?”
Jason’s eyes narrowed. “Not now, Father. Kevin, let’s get out of here.”
“No, let the boy talk,” Locke insisted. He bent over and pulled up his pants, regaining a bit of his authority in the process. “I want to hear what he has to say.”
“No, you don’t,” Jason insisted. “It’s just a lot of nonsense and you need to . . .”
“‘Nonsense!’ ” I shouted. “No, wait, you don’t understand. Locke hired these boys, he had sex with them, and now they’re all dead or . . .”
Before I had a chance to react, Jason drew his hand back and smacked me against the cheek. The unexpected impact sent me sprawling to the floor. “That’s enough from you, Kevin.”
Locke walked toward him in long, quick steps, his arms pumping. “What are you doing, Jason? I told you . . .”
Jason turned to him in a fury. “You shut up, old man! Just shut up!”
Locke hadn’t been hit like me, but he stumbled backward anyway.
“Howdareyou,” Locke hissed. “Who do you think you are?”
“Who do I think I am?” Jason laughed. “Who do I think I am? I’m the man who made you, you old fool. I’m your creator,Father.I decide what you do, who you meet, what you say, and when. I’m your scheduler and your planner and your pimp. I’m the man who’s been cleaning up your messes, the ones you’ve been stupid enough to leave behind. I’m the man you owe everything to. I’m the man who knows all your secrets, you dumb faggot. I know where the bodies are buried.
“I’m your god.”
Locke blanched and looked unsteady on his feet. He fell back into his chair. “Judas,” he whispered under his breath. “Blasphemer.”
Jason reached behind his back and pulled a small pistol from his belt. He pointed it at me. “And now I have one more mess to clean up.” He sighed. “Oh, Kevin. I had such for high hopes for you.”
“No,” Locke thundered from his seat. “Jason, why are you doing this?”
“Ask your little butt buddy,” Jason answered, waving his pistol at me.
I glared at him.
“Cat got your tongue?” Jason asked me. “Oh, I forgot, you probably don’t go much for pussy, do you?”
My mind struggled to figure out what was going on here.
Locke seemed to know at least some of the boys who’d gotten killed, but had no idea what happened to them. Meanwhile, Jason not only knew what was going on, but the gun in his hand made me think he might be the killer. But why?
And how come he didn’t have an accent anymore?
“How about I get you started?” Jason said, his tone condescending. “Our friendFather Locke here”—Jason spat out the name as if it were venom —“has certain . . . appetites. Needs he can’t control. Urges.”
Locke turned even paler. His eyes filled with tears.
“When I started working with him, I heard things around the office. Rumors. People wondered about his propensity for hiring young male interns. They talked about how he’d take them on trips with him. Or meet behind closed doors for longer than seemed necessary. Suchuglyrumors. Who would say such things?
“Still, this kind of talk wasn’t going to helpmeone little bit. I hitched my wagon to Locke because I wanted to take him places. I knew from the beginning that he had political potential, and I had every intention of going along for the ride. His . . . inconvenienthobbies threatened to derail that train.
“Still, it was all just rumors and scuttlebutt. The vast majority of Locke’s followers never heard any of it, and even if they did, those brainwashed idiots wouldn’t believe a word. I figured that as long as Locke was discreet, we’d be OK.
“Then, one day, a twenty-one-year-old office assistant came to me in tears. He said that Locke was constantly making comments about his appearance, brushing against him, touching him inappropriately. Finally, he claimed that Locke told him that if he wanted to advance in Locke’s ministry, he was going to have to do ‘whatever it took’ to get ahead.
“You remember Charlie, don’t you, sir?”
Locke began to tremble. His pallor turned from white to green. He turned his head, unable to meet Jason’s eyes.
“B
y that time, I was working as an assistant to Locke’s chief of staff. I went to Locke and told him the situation. At first, Locke denied everything. But I was young back then, and not too bad-looking myself. It wasn’t too hard to get him talking.
“After getting him to understand just how bad a public accusation like this would be, Locke agreed to let me pay off Charlie to keep quiet. Sure, I had to skim ten thousand dollars that we’d raised to support inner-city churches, but, hey, who cares about poor people, anyway?” He jerked his thumb over at Locke. “Certainly not this hypocrite. Neither did Charlie. He took the money and ran.
“Once I knew Locke’s secret, I had power over him. It wasn’t long before I moved up to the chief of staff position myself. Locke came to trust me more and more, didn’t you, Father?
“Eight months later, another young man came to me complaining about Locke’s behavior. Lucas. Big blond strapping boy. Even though I’m not into guys, I had to admit you had good taste on that one, sir.
“Lucas asked if he could meet me after work. At a local bar, he poured out his heart to me. I did my best to contain the situation. I offered him the same ten thousand dollars Charlie had taken, and, when that didn’t work, doubled it. Unfortunately, dear Lucas wasn’t about to be bought off.
“Lucas, bless his heart, was a true believer. Although he’d come to hate Locke—sorry, sir—he liked and trusted me. He told me the only reason he’d come to me was to give me fair notice before going to the press.
“I have to say, I was impressed by his integrity. Even his thoughtfulness touched me—imagine, thinking of my welfare at such a stressful time for him.
“I walked him out to his car and commended him on his character. Then I broke his neck.”
Locke doubled over and threw up into a garbage can beside his desk.
“See?” Jason said to me. “Weak. Without me pushing him, protecting him, he’d still be preaching to fat housewives on cable TV.”
Locke looked up, a smear of vomit staining his shirt. “You told me Lucas went back to school,” he cried.
“Because I knew you couldn’t deal with the truth, old man. You’d never accept what needed to be done.”
Second You Sin - Sherman, Scott Page 28