Second You Sin - Sherman, Scott

by Scott Sherman

  The gun went flying out of his hand before he even processed my movements. We both watched as it flew across the room, stopping, unfortunately, upon impact with the head of the still unconscious Jacob Locke, hitting with enough momentum that we heard it thud against his skull.

  Wow, I thought,this really isn’t his day.

  While I executed my crane well enough to achieve my primary objective, I didn’t nail the landing. As I stumbled backward after the kick, Jason charged forward furiously. If you were drawing the animated version of our encounter, he’d have steam coming out of his nostrils. In real life, he was a blur as he raced toward me, throwing his arms around my waist, and tackling me to the ground.

  “You little bitch!” he screamed as he crashed into me.

  The back of my head smashed hard against the floor. If the office hadn’t been so lushly carpeted, I’d probably have been knocked out. As it was, my vision went wonky and I saw stars. Jason straddled me. He probably had fifty pounds on me.

  “I have to give it to you,” he said, all friendly now that he had the upper hand again. “You got some moves, chief.”

  “Yeah,” I said, my own voice sounding foreign and a million miles away. “That’s why you need me at your side.”

  Jason slapped me hard against the cheek. The stars I saw were joined by comets and little tweety birds. I felt blood in my mouth.

  “Give it up, Kevin. You can’t bullshit a bullshitter.”

  “And you can’t get away with this forever,” I answered.

  “Haven’t you figured it out yet? I can. I have every angle covered, little man. Like this one.” He reached behind and pulled something from his back pocket. He showed me the black handle before he pressed the button on its side that revealed a switchblade. “I always have a backup plan, chief.”

  He pressed the cold metal against my neck. His mouth was slightly open and he panted with anticipation. His eyes were wide and dilated.

  Whatever else he was in this for, I realized, he liked this. He liked killing. I’d bet money that whatever neighborhood he’d grown up in had experienced a lot of missing dogs and cats.

  There was no way I was going to talk him out of murdering me. He was too far gone. Was the Jason I knew even left? Had he ever even existed? I had to try to reach him.

  “Please,” I said to him, my eyes filling with tears. “Don’t do this, Jason. Don’t kill me.”

  Jason’s mouth twisted into a shape that showed his teeth but yet was nothing like a smile. “Come on,” he said. “I told you that you remind me of me. Don’t go out begging like a pussy, man. These are your last words.” He lowered his face to mine. “Make them memorable.” A strand of spit dripped from his mouth and hit my chin.

  His mouth was watering at the prospect of ending me.

  I tried to say something, but all that came out was a choked sob.

  Jason sat up again. He held the knife in his right hand and brought it to his left shoulder.

  I bucked wildly under him. I knew he was about to slash my throat, but there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t budge him. I’d been counting on a lastminute surge of adrenaline, but instead, I felt just the opposite. I was drained, exhausted. It was as if my body had already absorbed the fact that I was dead. Only my head hadn’t accepted it yet.

  Oh, Tony,I thought.You’re going to be so sad. I’m sorry. And Mom, and Freddy, and the world, I miss you already.

  I cursed the tears that ran down my face. I hated giving Jason that satisfaction.

  I wished there was something I could say to him, some magic word that would destroy him.

  He lifted the blade higher, building the momentum he needed to slash my throat.

  As incredibly vivid as this all was, I felt a part of myself already drifting away, experiencing the whole thing as if in a dream. It was a kindness, really, this unreality.

  “Come on,” Jason taunted me. “You’re the Bright Young Thing around here. You said you wanted to be my partner, my right-hand man. Isn’t there one last thing you have for me, some final bit of ‘help’ to share? You know, so I don’t wind up as fucked up and dead as you’re about to be?”

  My pulse was pounding so hard I could barely hear him. My eyes darted desperately around the room, landing at a place just beyond him.

  “Just . . . one . . . thing . . .” I said, lifting my head to say the last word I’d ever tell him.

  Jason’s grin was pure evil. “That’s my boy! What last wisdom do you have to share at death’s door?” I think he was actually cackling.

  He was having such a good time, I almost hated to spoil his fun.

  “Duck,” I told him.

  “Du—?” he began.

  And then Jacob Locke blew Jason’s brains out.

  44

  I’m Still Here If you’ve never been showered by blood and bits of brain, consider yourself lucky. On the other hand, since the alternative to being covered in various pieces of Jason would have been for him to kill me, I was feeling pretty lucky. Almost giddy with relief.

  Without his head, Jason was a lot lighter. Or maybe there was just no more conscious strength holding me down. I shifted my hips and he fell off me, landing on the carpet with a wet plop.

  Locke was on his knees, mumbling. I couldn’t tell if he was praying or if he’d gone mad.

  I sat beside him. “I had to do it,” he said. “I had to do it.”

  I put an arm around him. “I know.”

  “He was going to kill you,” he said, looking at me for absolution.

  “You saved my life,” I told him. “You did the right thing.”

  “What are we going to do now?” he asked me.

  “We have to call the police.”

  Locke began to cry. “It’s all over, then, isn’t it? They’ll find out about my . . . indiscretions. About how Jason murdered those boys. In my name!” He grabbed my arm with surprising strength. “You know that I would never, I could never . . .” He took a deep breath. “If I’d have known what he was doing, I would have stopped him. Even if it meant losing everything. You know that, right?”

  “I know,” I said. I believed him. “But what I don’t understand is why you say all that stuff about ‘protecting the family’ and against gay rights when you have sex with other men. What’s that all about?”

  “Jason made me say those things,” Locke answered. “Look at my record. I never used that kind of language. But once Jason found out about my . . . needs, he started exerting more and more control. He told me I had to talk tough to appeal to ‘the base.’

  “He never came out and said it, but he always implied that unless I let him make the decisions, he’d expose me for what I am.” He buried his face in his hands.

  Was it possible that Locke was just weak and not the villain I’d thought him to be? God knows I’ve met a lot of conflicted men in my life. I seemed to be a magnet for them, actually. Could I have compassion for Locke, too?

  “Listen,” I told him. “Maybe you deserve another chance to do some good in this world. I have a plan.”

  By the time the police arrived, Locke and I had our stories straight.

  Jason had gone to Locke to confess his sins. Specifically, that he, Jason, had been hiring male prostitutes, having sex with them, and then killing them. When Locke told him that he had to go to the police, Jason shot him, meaning to kill him, too.

  That’s where I came in. I had been by the office earlier to volunteer and left my phone. On the off chance there was someone there, I went by and found the door open. As I walked in, I heard the gunshot. I ran into Locke’s office, where Jason and I scuffled.

  The rest of the story was pretty much the truth. We told the police that I was able to knock the gun from Jason’s hand, but that he was still able to overpower me. Locke came to and found Jason about to slash my throat. He shouted a warning, but when Jason didn’t stop, Locke had no choice but to shoot him.

  The weird thing is, when I was working the story out with Locke, he insist
ed that he reallydidcall for Jason to stop or he’d shoot.

  If so, I didn’t hear it. Neither did Jason, clear as I could tell.

  In any case, it gave me just enough pause to wonder if maybe Locke wasn’t more calculating than I believed. While everything I witnessed between him and Jason made me believe that Jason was a manipulative, psychotic freak, I couldn’t deny that Locke allowed himself to be used.

  If Lockedidn’tshout a warning, was it because he wanted Jason dead? And if so, why? Revenge? Or a more pragmatic decision that with Jason dead, there was one less person who knew his secrets?

  Locke said that he never meant to malign gay people, that Jason had forced him into it.

  About eighty percent of me believed him.

  The other twenty percent bought some insurance.

  I told Locke that with Jason gone, I’d keep his secrets, too. We’d pin the whole thing on Jason. I expected that once the police investigated Jason’s home and belongings, there’d probably be physical evidence connecting him to the deaths of the boys we knew about.

  I prayed there weren’t any more.

  In exchange, Locke would make good on his word. He’d withdraw from the presidential race and stay out of politics. Instead, he’d put his considerable influence over his faithful following to good use. He’d explain that he’d had an epiphany during his nearfatal encounter with Jason. He’d tell the world that he came to understand that the hateful and divisive language that he and other religious leaders used against LGBT people was ignorant and wrong. That it was intolerance like that that drove Jason to hate and fear his own God-given sexuality.

  Locke would devote his life to a ministry that emphasized love, kindness, and acceptance. The main focus of his work would be to heal the divide between gay and straight people.

  If not, I reminded him, Jason wasn’t the only one who knew his secrets.

  And then I told a fib.

  I said that what led me to him was that, before he died, Sammy White Tee put a copy of his taped encounter with Locke in the mail to me. A copy I kept somewhere safe.

  I told Locke that now that I knew it was Jason making him say anti-gay things, I was relieved that I’d never have to tell another soul about the tape.

  I didn’t exactly threaten him, but I knew Locke was smart enough to see that keeping his end of our bargain would be the best course for him.

  Maybe Locke would have done the right thing on his own. Or, maybe he needed someone to control him. Hell, maybe he got off on it.

  Don’t ask me. I only completed the first semester of that Intro to Psychology class. I might know what works with guys, but I don’t always knowwhy.

  I did know, however, that the person who hurt my friends would never hurt anyone again.

  And, whether for the right reasons or not, Locke was going to use his considerable powers to make the world a better place.

  Overall, I thought, things turned out rather well.

  After I gave the police my statement, two nice officers drove me home. They offered to take me to a hospital, but I hadn’t been hurt. All I wanted was to shower and crawl into bed.

  The shooting in Locke’s office was going to be big news. Luckily, at Locke’s insistence, my name would be kept out of it.

  Locke was a powerful man with a lot of influence. My participation in the evening’s activities would appear only in sealed court records. I’d be left out of the public story altogether.

  Whether Locke was protecting himself or me, I couldn’t say. Having washed every bit of Jason off me (I threw the clothing I’d been wearing into my building’s incinerator; they’d never feel clean again), I was more than ready for bed. In fact, I just hoped I made it there—falling asleep in the shower seemed like a distinct possibility.

  Then, my phone rang. It was 2:30 in the morning. Who’d be calling? I was glad caller ID prepared me before I picked up. “I’m OK,” I said by way of greeting.

  “What happened?” Tony asked. “I got a call from

  one of my friends at the precinct. You were involved in a shooting?”

  “That was supposed to be a secret,” I told him.

  “Yeah, well, you had to know I’d find out, right?”

  On any other night, it probably would have been some huge emotional moment for me to be hearing Tony’s voice again. As it was, I was so tired and numb that I couldn’t even muster up a vague sense of longing. I just wanted to sleep.

  “Listen,” I told him. “I asked you not to contact me until you knew where you wanted to take things with me.”

  “These are kind of special circumstances, Kevin. It’s not every day you get involved in a murder.” He paused. “OK, in your case—”

  I cut him off. “I appreciate your concern, Tony. I do. But I’m fine. I’m just really tired and I’m going to bed. Thanks for calling, but don’t do it again.”

  I turned off my phone and went to bed.

  45

  Here We Are at Last The next time I opened my eyes, my bedside clock read 9:40AM. I tried to go back to sleep, but my head was racing with images and sounds from the previous evening. Locke. Jason.

  Tony.

  The night before, I’d been overwhelmed by sheer physical exhaustion. In the morning, with sunlight sneaking through my blinds, the horrors of what I’d been through started to sink in.

  I’d almost been killed.

  I saw a man who was.

  My mother was on ViewTube.

  Oy.

  I’m not sure if I buy the old adage that idle hands are the devil’s playthings, but I was pretty certain that sitting around dwelling on what had happened wasn’t going to help me. Luckily, it was Sunday. Although I’d gotten up too late to make morning services, if I hurried, I could get to church on time to colead my Sunday school class.

  The kids were probably the best medicine for me, anyway.

  I arrived at church ten minutes early and helped Cindy set up. The kids hugged me as they filed in, and, sure enough, each embrace chased the shadows a little further away.

  When Nick and Paul arrived to drop off Aaron, they hugged me, too. As did Aaron, who excitedly introduced me to a little boy I hadn’t seen there before.

  “Dis is my fwiend, Rafi,” he said, pushing the little boy forward.

  I crouched down to meet him at eye level. “Hi, Rafi,” I said. “I’m Kevin.”

  Rafi looked at his shoes. “Hi,” he told them.

  “He’s a little shy,” Paul whispered.

  “That’s OK,” I said, still looking at Rafi. “I’m a little shy sometimes, too. But after a while, I really like making new friends. Aaron, why don’t you show Rafi where the building blocks are?”

  Aaron took him by the hand and the boys went off together to explore.

  “You guys aren’t auditioning a new kid to adopt, are you?” I asked.

  Nick laughed. “No.”

  “Too bad. He’s a cutie.”

  “He really is,” Nick agreed.

  “So’s his daddy,” Paul added.

  “Hey!” Nick elbowed Paul in the ribs.

  “What?” Paul shrugged. “I can’t look?”

  “Not,” Nick said, giving him the death stare, “if you want to live.”

  “All righty, then,” Paul said, taking him by the arm. “We better get back to the chapel. See you later, Kevin.”

  I turned back to the kids with a smile on my face.

  A smile.

  Who’d have thunk it?

  As usual, the kids were great. By the end of our hour together, I realized I hadn’t thought about Tony, or my mother, or Jason, or Locke the entire time. I knew I was going to have to process it eventually, but when I did, I knew it wouldn’t kill me. I’d be ready.

  It was hard to feel hopeless when surrounded by so much hope. Not to sound all Whitney Houston about it, but I really do think that’s the magic of children. They remind us of the good that’spossible in the world, and they inspire us to make itreal.

  Nick and Paul wer
e the last parents to pick up their kid. By then, Cindy had already left and it was just me, Aaron, and Rafi playing with toy trains. Rafi had warmed to me pretty quickly and was sitting in my lap when Nick and Paul arrived at the door.

  “Hey, guys,” I said. “You taking Rafi, too?”

  “Yeah,” Nick said. “He’s coming over for a playdate.”

  “Yay!” Aaron said. He and Rafi traded high fives.

  “Too bad,” I said, teasing. “I was hoping to meet the cute dad.”

  Rafi giggled at that. I ruffled his hair.

  “Actually,” Paul said, a big grin on his face, “his dad was hoping to see you, too.”

  Oh no,I thought.If these two were planning on fixing me up with someone, I didn’t even have the words to tell them hownot ready I was.

  I had to try, though. “Guys,” I said, “I’m really not up to . . .”

  But when Paul stepped aside and Rafi’s father walked into the room, my mouth stopped moving.

  So did my heart.

  “Daddy!” Rafi cried with glee, jumping out of my lap and into his arms.

  Tony scooped Rafi up like he was weightless. “Hey, sport,” he said, kissing him on the cheek. “Did you have a good time with my friend, Kevin?”

  “Yeah, Daddy. He was weal nice. Just like you pwomised.”

  “You know Daddy always keeps his promises,” Tony said, putting Rafi back down. “Are you ready to go over to Aaron’s house for a while?”

  “Yeah!” Rafi said. He ran over to me and gave me a quick hug. “Thanks for playing with me, Kebbin.”

  “Me, too,” Aaron said, throwing his arms around the both of us.

  I held on to them, the weight of their little bodies the only thing keeping me anchored to the floor. I didn’t trust my voice enough to speak.

  “OK,” Nick said, “last one to the door is a sweaty sock.” He and the two boys ran into the hallway.

  Paul lingered for a moment. The look he gave me told me he knew exactly what Tony and I needed to talk about.

  Tony must have sought them out. He planned this with them. But why?

  “You guys take as long as you need,” Paul said. “Pick Rafi up whenever you’re ready. He’ll be fine.”