Conflict of Interest

by J. M. Snyder

  With a start Alex sat up in bed. I can love him now, he’s right, there’s nothing standing between us. God, how fucking stupid was I not to see that? I just have to call him up and say I’m sorry and tell him I want to see him again, that’s all, that’s it…

  He kicked the covers away and scrambled to his feet. One hand scooped up the bandanna and clenched it in a tight fist; the other knocked the phone out of the cradle and onto the floor. When he stooped to get it, he cracked his head on the leg of his bedside table. “Jesus Christ!” he swore, rubbing away the pain from his temple as he dialed the number to the shelter.

  Far away, the phone began to ring, and he sat down on the bed, praying for someone to answer. “Come on,” he begged softly. “Please just—” The phone clicked in his ear. “Hello? Nate?”

  “Alex?” Father Nate asked. The warm voice hardened. “You’re not telling him over the phone. I won’t let you.”

  “I already told him,” Alex whispered, “but I was wrong. You’re right, he needs someone to love him, and I need to talk to him again, I need to tell him I’m sorry…God, I know I was wrong. Not about the program but about him.” Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he asked, “Can I just talk to him for a minute? Tell him I’m sorry?”

  “Are you coming back?” the priest wanted to know. “Because I’m not going to let you play him like this. He needs someone who will be there for him, Alex. He needs—”

  “He needs me.” Now the words were out in the open, they were real, and it felt so good to admit them. “And I need him. So let me just talk to him. Please.”

  Father Nate sighed. “Hold on.”

  Alex heard him set the phone down. In the background he could hear children laughing, a television blaring through the shelter, sneakers squealing across the floor and a ball being tossed back and forth, the ping ping of tabletop tennis. Jamie, please, Alex prayed, please come to the phone. Please… The phone scraped as someone picked it up, and then the priest said softly, “He’s not here.”

  Fuck. Alex squeezed his eyes shut. Don’t do this, Jamie, not again, not now. “Do you know where he is?”

  “No,” the priest replied. “But if he’s pissed, I’m guessing he’s gone out to blow off a little steam.”

  Alex knew exactly where Jamie went. The clubs. He sighed, a shaky sound that terrified him, because he wanted to rush out and save the guy but he didn’t know where to start looking. “Tell him I called,” he murmured. “Tell him to call me back. No matter what he thinks of me, I need to hear from him again, tonight, as soon as he gets in. Please?”

  “I’ll tell him,” Father Nate replied.

  Chapter 15

  A little after four, Alex called the shelter again. “He’s not back yet,” Father Nate said.

  “I figured that.” Alex didn’t think Jamie was coming back, but he knew he had to find him. “I called to see if maybe you could name a few places he might be.”

  Father Nate sighed, defeated. “You’re going to look for him?”

  “I have to,” Alex whispered. “Please. Ask the other kids. Just a few of the clubs, or the street they’re on, someplace to start.”

  “Okay,” Father Nate agreed. “I’ll call you back in an hour.”

  “Fifteen minutes,” Alex bartered. He didn’t want to wait any longer. What if Jamie did something they’d both regret? Pissed as he was, he might do anything. But he said he’d give those clubs up for me and I plan on reminding him of that. He’s not going back to that scene. He won’t have to, not when he has me.

  But first he had to find Jamie. “That’s all I can spare.”

  “A half hour,” the priest countered.

  Alex sighed. “Fine. You have my cell number? Thirty minutes and I’m calling back if I don’t hear from you.”

  “You will,” Father Nate promised.

  Alex paced the floor of his small living room, willing the phone to ring, but it stayed silent. Absently he jingled his keys in one hand, ready to jump into the car and drive in all directions at once to find Jamie. As soon as I find him, he promised himself, I’m going to kiss him until my lips hurt, and hold him so tight I won’t be able to breathe. I’ll tell him I’m sorry until he forgives me. Because I was stupid but I’m finally listening and where the fuck IS he?

  He glanced at the clock—ten minutes had passed since he got off the phone with the shelter. Fuck. Blindly he kicked at one of the legs of the coffee table, a solid wooden structure that absorbed the impact easily. Angered, Alex kicked it again, harder. Where the hell can he be?

  At a club somewhere, his mind whispered. And who knows the clubs better than I do? Who knows where I might start looking?

  Dave.

  Alex tripped over the couch as he hurried to the phone to dial Dave’s work number. “Antonio’s—”

  “Dave?” Alex asked, cutting off the bored voice.

  Suspiciously, his roommate asked, “Who’s this?”

  “Alex.” He took a deep breath. “Do you know any gay clubs that let in underage kids? The seedier the better. Any at all.”

  For a moment Dave didn’t reply, and Alex could almost see his friend’s frown in his mind’s eye, wondering if he were serious or if this was some kind of joke. Finally Dave answered in a slow, deliberate voice. “There are other ways to meet guys, man, if you’re looking for action. Like the classifieds, maybe—”

  “Fuck, Dave!” Alex cried, exasperated. “I’m looking for Jamie. My kid from the Youth Outreach program? He’s out there and I have to find him, please. You don’t understand—”

  “Calm down,” Dave replied. “I don’t hang out at those places, you know that. I go for the chicks. Legal ones.”

  Alex sighed. What seemed like a good idea two seconds ago had proved fruitless, and all he wanted to do was hang up the phone. “I just hoped maybe you knew someplace I could start to look.”

  Dave thought for a minute. “Try 17th Street. There are some wicked places down there. Go now, before it gets dark, and don’t get out of the car. Do you hear me? Lock the doors. Do you have your cell with you?”

  “Yeah, I do,” Alex said, relieved. “Thanks.”

  “If you’re not back by seven,” Dave warned, “I’m coming after you. That strip is bad.”

  “I hope to find him by then,” Alex replied.

  * * * *

  Father Nate called him back as he turned onto 17th, but there was nothing else he could tell him. “You know how kids can be,” he said. “They like me but I’m still a priest. I’m older than they are and they’re not going to tell me the places they hang out at, even if they do think I’m pretty cool.”

  “My roommate suggested 17th,” Alex said, slowing as he scanned the already crowded sidewalks. Young kids lingered everywhere, dressed in leather and chains and tight jeans, tattoos and piercings and punked hair… God, please don’t let him be here, Alex prayed. “I’m there now.”

  “That’s a tough street,” Father Nate replied. “You be careful. If he’s there—”

  “I’ll be fine,” Alex assured him.

  He rolled the window up halfway and turned down the radio, trying to study the streets without making eye contact with any of the kids. A few glared at him as he passed, thumbing their cigarettes his way, but the majority just ignored him. Even though it was still light outside, neon signs flashed obscenely and loud music bled into the streets from open doors guarded by hefty bouncers. At the end of the street Alex turned around, but he didn’t see Jamie amid the teenagers crushed together against the brick buildings or pouring into the streets. He wasn’t there.

  Alex cruised up the street again, rolling his window down and slowing as he passed an empty spot by the curb. Maybe I should get out and look for him, he thought, debating. Dave told him to stay in the car but it was still light now, mostly, and he should be fine…

  “Hey there, mister.”

  Alex looked up as a young boy leaned into his window. The kid was blonde and couldn’t be any older than twelve or thirt
een, but he wore tight shorts that hugged his hips and a cropped top exposing his skinny midriff. “You’ve been driving around for a while now,” the boy said with a wink. “You looking for a good time?”

  “No,” Alex said quickly. God no. “I’m looking for a friend. His name is Jamie.”

  The boy shrugged easily. “That’s my name tonight.”

  “Look.” Alex fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a five dollar bill. Handing it through the window, he said, “Get something to eat, will you? Have you ever been to St. Catherine’s? They can help you—”

  The money disappeared as the boy shoved it into the waistband of his shorts. “This pays better,” he said. “If you change your mind, I’ll be around.” He started to walk away.

  “Wait!” Alex cried. When the boy turned back, he asked again, “You sure you don’t know a Jamie? He’s tall, bright red curls, gorgeous eyes—”

  The boy shook his head. “That five is spent,” he said, walking back to the curb. “You want to talk, fine, but it’ll cost you. Guys like me ain’t cheap.” For emphasis he rubbed his hand across his crotch, raising his eyebrows at Alex suggestively.

  “Never mind.” Alex eased off the brake and left the boy behind. I don’t know where the hell Jamie is right now but at least he’s not here, I know…

  Or rather, he hoped. He hoped Jamie wasn’t inside one of those clubs, doing something to someone that Alex didn’t even want to think about. Would he still be mad? Mad enough to do something…don’t think it, he told himself, turning off 17th. He’s not like these kids. He’s nothing like them. He’s just pissed at the world right now but eventually he’ll come back to the shelter and he’ll talk to you then. Everything will be fine. Do you hear me, Alex? Everything will be okay.

  Then why didn’t he believe that?

  * * * *

  Back home, the apartment was silent, too silent. Alex carried the phone with him from room to room, searching for something to do, something to take his mind off the time and the fact that it was getting late and the phone still wasn’t ringing. He watched it as he ate dinner, daring it to ring, willing it to shatter the silence surrounding him and bring Jamie back to him, but it didn’t. By ten o’clock he didn’t think it would ever ring again, and just to make sure it was working, he called the number from his cell phone. When it rang shrilly, his heart jumped, and for a split second he thought it was Jamie, finally, it was him, and he hung up the cell phone and lunged for the cordless only to realize it was himself calling, the phone cutting out in mid-ring because he had hung up.

  Fuck.

  At eleven he thought he should call it a night. Thirty minutes later he was still on the sofa, staring at the phone where it sat on the coffee table. Part of him was afraid to go to sleep, afraid he’d miss Jamie’s call. Maybe I should call the shelter, he thought, or even go down there, see if he’s in yet. Maybe he thinks it’s too late and he doesn’t want to wake me up. Maybe…

  He dialed the shelter’s number, but it was late and all he got was a recording. As he listened to Father Nate’s voice reeling off meal times and hours of operation, he mused, Why didn’t he put on there whether Jamie was back yet or not? That’s the important stuff—that’s what I want to know, what I called to find out.

  So the shelter was closed. It was too late to go looking for Jamie again—if he hadn’t found him in broad daylight, how would he ever find him now? Just go to bed, he told himself. You can go over in the morning and he’ll be there, you’ll see. You’ll see.

  But he carried the phone with him upstairs, and he set it on the pillow beside his head as he crawled into bed. Ring, dammit, he pleaded silently, closing his eyes. Just ring already, will you?

  * * * *

  Someone was calling his name, Alex was sure of it. He heard it in his dreams and it followed him into waking, a voice that sounded so damn familiar… “Jamie?” he murmured.

  “Alex?” Dave’s voice drifted upstairs, an unusual edge to it that made Alex’s eyes fly open in the darkness. “Hey, Alex?”

  “Yeah?” he called back, sleep thickening his voice. He squinted at the clock until the red numbers coalesced into digits he could read. Three in the morning. What the fuck? “Dave?” He raised his voice. “What is it? I’m trying to sleep.”

  “Can you come down here a minute?” Dave asked.

  “God,” Alex groaned, but he didn’t like the urgency he heard in his friend’s voice so he tumbled out of the bed and staggered in the darkness to the door. On the stairs he could hear a woman talking quietly, her voice calm and gentle, and he heard a hitching breath, someone trying not to cry. “Dave?” he asked, taking the steps two at a time. “Is everything…”

  His words died in his throat as he stepped into the living room and saw Jamie standing there, hugging himself tightly. Bright blood spilled from his nose and a livid bruise stained his pale cheek. “Jesus,” Alex sighed. He glanced at Dave, standing by the front door, and then at the woman with him, some girl from the clubs he brought back for the night, makeup thick and hair over-styled. She was reaching for Jamie, talking softly, trying to calm him down, but he shrugged her away.

  For the briefest of moments Alex hesitated, unsure of what to do, what to say. Jamie looked up at him, eyes shining with pain and hurt and need, and he whispered, “I’m sorry, Alex, really I am, but I didn’t know where else to go—”

  And then Alex took him into his arms, pulling him close. “Shh,” he murmured, soothing down Jamie’s rumpled shirt, his disheveled hair. He was as warm as Alex had dreamed he would be, his curls impossibly soft in Alex’s hands, and Alex didn’t care what had happened or what time it was. All that mattered was that Jamie was here now, safe with him, where he belonged.

  Chapter 16

  “Alex?” Dave asked cautiously.

  Alex frowned at his roommate. Jamie shivered in his arms, still hugging himself close, afraid to let go, afraid to hold onto him, afraid—afraid you’ll push him away again, his mind whispered, and Alex hugged Jamie tighter, feeling tears dampen his T-shirt. Uncertainty puckered Dave’s mouth. “Is he okay?”

  “He’ll be fine,” Alex whispered. Silently he added, I’ll take care of him.

  He’ll be fine.

  Keeping one arm around Jamie’s shuddering shoulders, Alex led the way into the kitchen. He flicked on the overhead light and flinched when he saw the bruise darkening Jamie’s cheek, the blood smeared beneath his nose. “Jesus, what happened to you?”

  Jamie sank into one of the chairs at the kitchen table and slouched down, resting his head against the back of the chair. “I got in a fight,” he muttered, staring at the ceiling.

  “Where?” At the sink, Alex wet a washcloth in cold water. He stood in front of Jamie, one hand on Jamie’s forehead to hold him still. “This might sting a little bit.”

  Jamie sucked in a sharp breath when the cold cloth touched the tender skin beneath his nose and he reached out, hands twisting in Alex’s T-shirt. “Some club,” he said, watching Alex as he leaned over him. Alex concentrated on cleaning away the blood and tried unsuccessfully to ignore the emotions swirling through him at Jamie’s touch. “I was pissed and I just wanted to hurt someone, you know? I just wanted to beat the shit outta somebody and hope it made me feel better.”

  “You were pissed at me,” Alex said softly. When Jamie nodded, Alex dabbed at the blood again. “So did it work?”

  “No,” Jamie with a lusty sigh. “I thought I could take him—he wasn’t that big. It was a straight club and I hit on him knowing it would tick him off. He called me a fag and I…”

  He sighed again and blinked away tears that filled his eyes. “God, I just kept pressing it, until finally he swung at me and hit me here…” He pointed to his cheek, already discolored. Alex fought the urge to kiss the bruised skin. “And then the bartender said ‘take it outside’ and we did, only he had a friend out there who said…” Beneath Alex’s hands, Jamie began to tremble. “God, Alex, they said—”

  “It’s okay
,” Alex whispered. He knelt down beside Jamie and took him into a tight embrace; this time Jamie hugged him back, his arms slipping around Alex’s neck until they threatened to choke him and still the trembling didn’t stop. “They aren’t here, Jamie, they can’t hurt you. I won’t let them.”

  Jamie’s words were barely audible through fresh tears. “They were gonna rape me,” he whispered. “Just take me into the alley and fuck me senseless and leave me bleeding and broken and dying and God…”

  His voice broke; anger flashed through Alex as Jamie clung to him. The thought of anyone hurting this young man, or even daring to touch him, made his own hands shake. To still them, he rubbed Jamie’s back. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re here now, and you know what? You were right. There’s no reason we can’t be together now. If…if that’s what you want—”

  Jamie sat back, his hands curving around the back of Alex’s neck as he leaned his forehead against Alex’s. His eyes swam in tears that slicked his eyelashes and spilled down his cheeks. His chin crumbled as he fought to retain his composure. “Alex,” he sighed; in his voice, the name sounded like a promise. “Oh God, yes.”

  Then he kissed Alex tenderly, his lips salty from tears and coppery from the blood. Mine, Alex thought as he finally gave into Jamie.

  * * * *

  Alex sent Jamie upstairs to get cleaned up. “You’re staying here tonight,” he whispered, kissing the soft skin beneath Jamie’s ear. “You know which room’s mine. Go on.”

  “‘Kay,” Jamie sniffled. “You coming, too?”

  “In a minute,” Alex replied. “I want to call the shelter; let them know you’re here.”

  He watched Jamie trudge upstairs and into the bathroom; he waited until he heard the shower turn on before picking up the phone. Then he dialed the shelter and listened to the message on the machine. After the beep he said, “Father Nate, this is Alex. I just wanted to let you know Jamie’s at my place now, and it’s late so he’s going to stay with me tonight. I’ll bring him by some time tomorrow, okay? If you want to talk to him before that, you know my number.”