by V. L. Locey
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me all of this the day it happened?” Chief Riggs asked my father. I pulled my attention from the purple pansies and glanced at my dad.
“It wasn’t something I wanted to spread around,” Dad replied then looked down at his hands resting on his thighs.
“It’s not like we don’t all know that O’Malley is gay, Eugene,” Waldo said. I nodded but kept my mouth shut tightly. “I stopped by as you were putting up the plywood and asked you what had happened. If you would have told me, or given me that damn note, we could have pulled that bastard Crocker in and locked him up. Now we have no evidence.”
“We might be able to find the brick.” I interjected. My father shook his fair head slowly. “Can you get fingerprints off a brick?”
“It wouldn’t do us much good now, O’Malley. Any lawyer worth his salt would say we planted evidence somehow, maybe went to Crocker’s home and found that brick. Y’all know everyone in this town is fully aware of the animosity between Crocker, you, and Garrison.”
“I’m sorry,” Dad whispered. “I just didn’t want to make things worse.”
“It’s okay.” I told my father. He sounded so ashamed and remorseful. I reached over to lay my hand on his. He grabbed my hand tightly and his chin came up just a bit. I looked from Dad to Chief Riggs. “Can you pick him up and talk to him? Give him a warning just to let him know that we know he committed this crime?”
“It would be my distinct pleasure,” Waldo said as he pushed up from his chair. “You two go on home now and let me entertain Mr. Arnold for a few hours.”
Dad and I stood up and shook hands with Chief Riggs. While it wasn’t the punishment Crocker deserved, without evidence there was nothing we could do. I hoped that Crocker would back off if he knew the police were monitoring him. If I were moving to Columbia sometime soon, I had to know that my father would be safe from assholes like Crocker Arnold. We thanked the chief and left the station. Dad took a few moments once we were outside to pull in several deep breaths.
“I hope this doesn’t add to your problems with Crocker, son,” he said as we lingered beside the flagpole. Over our heads, the US flag and the South Carolina state flag danced in the warm September breeze.
“It won’t.” I assured him. A police cruiser, one of just four our little town had, crept past us. Dad and I both waved at Dewey Jansen, one of Waldo’s three deputies. “Bullies like Crocker are always intimidated by anyone who pushes back. Let’s get on home and work on dessert to take to the going away meal.”
“I’m not so sure, O’Malley. Let’s just keep this between us and Waldo, okay? This way Crocker won’t hear about it from someone and come looking for you. Promise me this goes no further.”
“I promise. But I really think he’s done bullying us now. That’s how his kind are. Once they know you’re not backing down they slink off like a whipped dog. Now let’s get working on that pie for Garrison.”
My father didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t argue either. I, on the other hand, was feeling much better. I had dealt with homophobes like Crocker for years now. Generally, when you stood up to them, they backed down and went off to find someone without backbone to shove around. O’Malley Ramsey may have left Willow Glen a shaky numbers geek, but he had returned as a mathematics teacher/man who did not intimidate easily anymore. Now it was time make Garrison’s favorite pie and spend one last night with the man I loved.
***
The Rook’s dining room table was going to bow in the middle soon if Mrs. Rook placed one more side dish on it. Garrison, seated beside me, looked like he was close to orgasm as his dark eyes moved over the meal. Mrs. Rook had made all of his favorites such as country-fried steaks, black-eyed peas with bacon, buttermilk biscuits, collard greens with bacon, fried green tomatoes, white sausage gravy, and a huge bowl of grits. Dessert would be the sour cream peach pecan pie Dad and I had made.
“The boy is only going back to Columbia, honey,” Mr. Rook said when Mrs. Rook finally sat down across from us. “Looking at all this food you’d think he’d signed up for a one-way trip to Saturn.”
“You just never mind.” Mrs. Rook told her husband then turned loving eyes on her son and then me. “My boy misses my home cooking.”
“That’s the truth,” Garrison said then gave me a look. I nodded and lifted a fried steak from the platter Emily had passed me and put it on my plate. “Although with O’Malley moving down to Columbia with me, I’ll at least have pecan pie whenever I want it.”
The announcement made everyone at the table pause in piling food on their plates. My gaze touched my fathers and he was smiling as widely as I had ever seen him smile. Mrs. Rook leaped from her chair and ran over to smother both Garrison and me with kisses. She was softly crying as she hugged my face to her chest. Garrison chuckled when my eyes went round. Conversation centered on what our plans were. Garrison and I filled in all the blanks. Then we dove into one amazingly good sour cream peach pecan pie, if I did say so myself.
Dad and I stayed at the Rook house until eleven, when he slowly got to his feet and announced he was done in. I stood up as well. Mrs. Rook gave me the oddest look.
“You’re not going home too, are you, O’Malley?” She enquired. I shot a glance to Garrison, who was still sitting on the couch behind me. He lifted a shoulder. I looked back at his mother and then his father. Mr. Rook was snoring softly, as was Emily, who had crashed on the living room floor with a couch pillow under her head.
“Yes, ma’am, I thought I would.” I stammered.
“I assumed you’d sleep over with Garrison,” she said then got to her feet to begin gathering empty coffee mugs and dirty plates.
“Mom, you do realize that Mal sleeping over is now kind of different than it used to be when we were ten.” Garrison finally interjected into the awkward moment.
“Bless your heart,” Mrs. Rook said and both Garrison and I winced a bit. “I’m so glad I have my child to explain things like sex to me.”
“Okay, right, you figured that out.” Garrison mumbled. Mrs. Rook patted his cheek and then handed him a stack of dirty pie plates.
“Yes, I did, darling. Now, why don’t you two carry the dirty dishes into the kitchen and stack them in the dishwasher while I walk our guest to the front door,” Mrs. Rook said. I gave my father a limp smile and then hustled into the kitchen with dirty mugs dangling from my fingers.
“Your mother is amazing.” I told Garrison while he was neatly stacking pie plates in the dishwasher.
“Brutal is what she is.” He muttered then shut the door and turned on the dishwasher. Tipsy came in for a drink, gave me a lick on the hand, and then shuffled off to sleep in Emily’s room. Garrison and I slipped upstairs. I had to confess I felt somewhat weird walking into Garrison’s room and closing the door behind me. I had done this a thousand times over the years, but as Garrison had pointed out, sleeping in his room with him now was vastly different than it had been.
“This is odd.” I told him as he pawed around in his closet for something. The room hadn’t been changed much since our childhood. The twin bed had been replaced with a double as Garrison had grown and grown and grown. Aside from that, the dresser and carpeting, the drapes and posters on the walls were all the same.
“Yeah, it’s weird but cool.” He emerged from his closet with a soft-looking package in his hands. The paper was green with yellow stars. “Sorry about the stupid paper. It was the only thing left lying around that I could find.” I blinked at it.
“I didn’t get you anything.” I felt terrible. Garrison pushed his gift into my chest.
“Mal, you’ve given me the life I dreamed about for years. Now open the damn thing,” he said then dropped down to sit on the edge of his bed. I sat down beside him and gently tore open the paper. There on my lap was an official Cutters jersey with the name ROOK across the back in bright blue letters. “It’s mine.” He added when I sat there staring at it like a dimwit.
“I assumed when I saw
your name.” He snorted then leaned over to kiss me under my right ear. I held the white and blue jersey up and admired his name and the huge 54 on the back. Then I turned it around. On the front was the famous Carolina Cutters emblem, a huge cutter ship with sails snapping, wild waves lifting the boat nearly out of the water.
“You can wear that to all the games,” he said as he nibbled on my neck. My eyes slowly drifted shut. His mouth on my skin always made it hard to concentrate. “Why don’t you wear it to bed?”
“Mm.” I sighed as he leaned more of his weight into me. “What am I supposed to wear on my bottom half?”
“Nothing, same as me.” He purred beside my ear then slid his hand over my thigh to tenderly grab my balls. That was really all it took on my part. I suppose knowing it might be weeks until I saw him again, my reserve about messing around took a sound beating by my lust. Within minutes, we were both under the covers with only a Spiderman nightlight to give us any kind of light. I was wearing my new Cutters jersey and nothing else. Garrison was naked as well, spread out under me, as I licked and suckled every inch of flesh I could find. “Shit, Mal, stop teasing.”
“Shhh,” I whispered, pressed a hot kiss to his mouth, and then slipped downward, under the dark blue comforter. I sucked him deep into my mouth, relishing the flavor of his pre-cum on my tongue. Garrison made a strangled sound, which amused me. He was generally quite vocal when having sex. I loved every groan, moan, hiss, and little dirty word that escaped him, but his parents probably wouldn’t. Palm cradling his nuts, I sucked him hard and fast. He thrashed around, one hand on my head, the other covering his mouth by the sound. When he came, he bucked upward, choking me as his dick slipped down into my throat. Eyes tearing, I took him all with pleasure.
“Shit, Mal.” Garrison grunted when I emerged from under the covers. I laid on him and captured his mouth. He kissed me back with passion then flipped me to my back. As soon as he pushed up my Cutter jersey to get at my nipples, I grabbed a pillow and bit down on it. Garrison had yet to learn the fine art of tempting and teasing, but I happily forgave him for it. His enthusiasm and amazingly quick mastery of oral skills made up for things. He’d slow down with time and a guiding hand. Right now, my hand was too busy keeping his pillow crammed into my mouth. Two spit-wetted fingers slipped into me. I arched up off the bed, kicked at the cover over his head, and then watched him in the dim light suck me until I came so hard I saw stars. When I floated back to earth, Garrison was lapping his way up my chest. He pulled down my jersey and laid down at my side. I rolled to the right to look at him.
“You’ll be coming to Columbia soon, yeah?” he asked. I wiggled closer. We nestled against each other like perfectly cut jigsaw puzzle pieces. He removed my glasses and hung them over the headboard.
“As soon as I can find us a place.” I assured him then pressed a kiss to his Adam’s apple. He made a contented bear sound and placed a hand on my bare ass. “I’m searching for jobs tomorrow online after I do the realtor search.”
“Good. I love you. I want you there with me for life.”
I closed my eyes as his words sank in. “I want you there with me for life as well.”
We fell asleep in each other’s arms. Morning came and Garrison left. Standing in his driveway with his family and my dad, watching him drive off, felt like the world had suddenly gotten quite a bit colder even though it was a lovely sixty-seven degrees at 8:00 am.
“Come on inside, you two, and have some eggs and grits,” Mrs. Rook said to my father and me. Dad looped an arm over my shoulders.
“You’ll see him soon,” Dad said then steered me back into the Rook house, still in my Cutters jersey but with a pair of Garrison’s too big sleep shorts under it.
Soon seemed like a damn lifetime.
Fifteen
A week later, life took a decided upswing. After seven days of online searches for apartments and jobs, I had four strong leads on places to live. Garrison was now in possession of those and would be checking them all out since he was in the city. If only the job searches were as fruitful as the apartment searches had been. The total lack of interest from prospective employers was slowly beginning to whittle down my self-confidence. So, I made sure that I rolled out of bed every morning and walked. Exercise, I had found, not only made me look better, but it made me feel better. I was about two miles from home and working up a good lather when Chief Riggs pulled up beside me on a long stretch of tree-lined road that led out of Willow Glen.
“Morning, O’Malley,” Waldo said and began creeping alongside me in his cruiser.
“Morning, Chief.” I panted as my feet slapped the blacktop steadily.
“I stopped by your house but your dad said you’d let out already for your walk.” I could smell the coffee and the sweet aroma of doughnuts rolling out of the police cruiser. My empty stomach made a rude sound that the car engine thankfully covered up. “Figured you’d want to know that I finally tracked down Crocker Arnold and had me a nice little sit down with the boy.”
I slowed my pace but kept moving. “Did he confess to anything?”
“Now what do you think?”
“Guess that was a pretty dumb question.” I admitted as we crept along the highway.
“He had been over in the next county at his cousins for a wedding, or so he claimed. Anyway, when I passed him on the street in town, I politely asked him to accompany me to the station. We had a nice long talk about hate crimes and how deeply I frown upon them.”
“Thank you, Chief. I hope your talk sinks in,” I said as the smell of fried dough began to weaken my resolve to get another mile in before turning around to head home. The doughnut shop was on the way if I just took a small detour at Magnolia Circle and— No. There will be no doughnut stops, O’Malley. Garrison loves your lean, muscular body. He enjoys touching it and caressing it and tasting it just like you enjoy touching, caressing, and tasting his rock hard—
“…one word I’ve said for the past quarter mile?”
I shook off the purple haze of lust. It had only been a week. One week without sex and my mind was starting to get fuzzy. Of course, I always did have a mind that liked to meander through the mental forest and…dammit, O’Malley, focus!
“I’m sorry, I was thinking about the woods.” The ground rose a bit now and I felt the tug in my calves and thighs.
Chief Riggs grunted. “You always did drift off easily.”
“It’s a curse.” I confessed.
“Well, I’ll let you get back to your walk, just wanted to let you know where we are with Mr. Arnold. Please do me a favor? The next time anything like this happens, call the police so we can make sure the criminals get more than a little chatty-chat.”
“If I had found it, Chief, you would have been my first call, but I’ll pass along your words to my father.” I huffed and blinked some sweat out of my eyes.
“I wish you would. That man has always been as peaceful as a damn hippie.” He commented and then, with a lift of his hand, he pulled back onto the empty road and took off, leaving me with the decadent memory of doughnuts lodged in my head. I cranked up the speed and willed myself to stop thinking about crullers, sugar-glazed, crème-filled and chocolate-covered with rainbow sprinkles. Oh! Don’t forget the blueberry crumb muffins fresh out of the ovens, all lined up in steamy glass cases.
“I am a weak, weak man.” I spun on my heel and set a course for Dottie’s Bakery on Magnolia Circle.
***
Four days later, we were in Columbia to see the Cutters game against the Boston Aces. Over the long years of my friendship with Garrison, I had been to hundreds of games. The Rook family, me, and many times my father, as well, had cheered him on at fields up and down the eastern seaboard. This game tonight felt different from all the others. Perhaps it was because of the intimate relationship I was now in with him. Maybe it was my spiffy Garrison Rook jersey. Probably it was a combination of those two things paired with the knowledge that as soon as this car pulled into the parking lot
of Barnes Field, I’d be seeing the man I loved.
Mr. Rook parked their old Kia Sedona and I nearly killed myself exiting the minivan. I spun around, trying to find an entrance. The ballpark was a fairly large one, holding about ten thousand Cutter fans.
“He did say he’d meet us outside, didn’t he, honey?” Mr. Rook asked as he walked up to stand beside me.
“There he is!” Emily shrieked and sprinted across the parking lot to throw herself at Garrison. Two other burly types followed him out of the stadium, all three dressed in compression shorts and tops paired with ugly Crocs. My heart leaped around in my chest. Garrison gathered up his little sister, spun her in circles, and then loudly kissed her cheek. We all hustled over to him. Mrs. Rook got a long hug and a smooch. Mr. Rook got a hug as well. My father got a handshake, and I got a long meaningful look and a hearty clap on the shoulder.
“Son, you look great,” Mr. Rook said. Everyone was talking at once. Everyone but me because I was trying to swallow down the huge ball of disappointment wedged in my throat. Not being able to even touch him or show any kind of familiarity was terrible. It felt like someone had removed a large part of my soul. Garrison and the others all chatted away, and while I saw a smile on his handsome face, his dark eyes looked as sad as I felt.
“These two guys are also Cutters, Kyle Kirkland and Rudy Beloux.” Garrison introduced us to the two men who had followed him out. “They’ve made me feel right at home here in Columbia.”
Kyle was a big fellow with short blond hair and a quick smile. Rudy stood just as tall as Kyle and Garrison did. He also had an infectious smile. Rudy had ebony skin and a quick short laugh. We all shook hands with the Cutters who had befriended Garrison.