by Jen Davis
“I don’t know what he’s talking about, Pat, but I’m going to prove to you, Robby is a good man. And Parker is nothing but a liar.”
His phone buzzed.
Robby: A friend of mine has an emergency. I need to help out. Rain check on 2nite?
Locking his jaw, he considered a dozen different responses. But this was not a conversation they could broach over text.
Matt: Can we get together afterward? I really need to see you.
Robby: I’ve got to get to the hospital. Tomorrow?
Matt: Fine.
Hopefully by then, he’d have put all of Patty’s worries to rest. And he’d be one step closer to the family he’d always wanted.
Chapter TWENTY-FIVE
Robby
Robby woke up close to noon on the sofa at the Q-Center, his heart still aching over what had happened to Sara the night before. At least now, she was safe and sleeping soundly in her own bed.
He thought about calling Matt but decided against distracting him during a shift at the bar. Besides, he needed to fill in Paul on what had happened.
Willing his tight muscles to move from the couch, he stood and spotted the reverend and his husband peering at a laptop on the wooden table.
“Hey, guys. Why didn’t you wake me?” Robby slid into the chair beside Chris.
“Figured you must’ve had a late night if you crashed here.” Chris turned the computer at an angle so he could better see. “Look. The website is up and running.”
The homepage had a clean look with THE Q-CENTER centered in white text at the top over a navy-blue header. What looked like two hand-drawn LGBT rainbow flags flanked the words on either side. Drop down menus offered an About Us page, Directions, Services, Donations, and Testimonials.
His finger hovered over the mouse pad for a second or two before he took the plunge and clicked on the Testimonial tab. The first video box featured a still image of Sara, and as he scrolled down, box after box showed a thumbnail of one of the kids who looked to this place for help. Marshall, Vin, Meggie.
From there, he clicked on the services tab and found pictures of the new addition, the bathroom, an inside look at Sara’s room. The new bedrooms didn’t have beds in them yet, but he’d bet his last dollar the private floor space would beat the shelter experience for some folks any day.
“If you want to watch the video-clip I took of you, it’s part of the About Us section.” Chris pointed to the screen. “I know you were nervous about it, but it’s really good.”
His stomach protested just thinking about it. “Pass. Thanks, though. I’m sure you did a great job; everything about the site looks amazing.”
Chris puffed out his chest at the praise.
He pushed the computer away, dreading what he needed to say next. “Did anyone tell you what happened last night?”
The reverend shook his head. “Does this have anything to do with why you spent the night here?”
“Someone hurt Sara. A guy she met at a bar. He, uh, didn’t realize she was trans.” Robby rubbed at the hard knot in his shoulder. “She’s pretty banged up. Her arm’s fractured. She called me from the hospital last night.”
Paul sank into his chair. “What kind of world are we living in?”
It hurt to see the bleak expression on his face. “I thought maybe we could do some outreach today,” Paul continued. “Send some of the kids to the parks and libraries, hand out some cards.”
Chris responded. “We’d asked Sara to help us out with intake for the new wing, kind of serve as a den mother for any new young people looking to bunk down for a while. I think we’ll need to find some temporary help while she recovers.”
“Probably a good idea. In the meantime, I’d like to help with the outreach today too. I could check out a few places I used to haunt. Spread the word.” Staying busy would help keep his mind off what had happened to his friend last night.
Paul slid a few cards his way. “You’re doing God’s work, son. I know He brought you to us for a reason.”
The words turned over in his head as he left the building. Awful as his early years in Atlanta had been, maybe something good could come out of them.
He hit the a few of the tent cities beneath the interstate on-ramps. In the middle of the day, there weren’t too many people around, but he’d learned early, if you had to sleep on the street, it was far safer when the sun was out.
In three stops, he only gave out one card. The slight man was probably younger than eighteen, but if he had any sense, he’d lie to anyone who asked. The guy had firmed his jaw and planted his feet at Robby’s advance, but he took the card. Only time would tell if the kid had enough trust or desperation to seek out the center at nightfall.
The guys he really needed to find probably weren’t on the streets. They’d be holed up with men like John or Harry. Or in the clubs.
Dammit.
He never wanted to set foot in a place like the Nitro party room again. Just thinking about it made him queasy. Then again, the easy path wasn’t always the right one.
Ten minutes later, he forced himself into the front door of the club’s public area. No one and nothing inside could distinguish it from the last time he’d visited or any of the times before.
He didn’t recognize the sentry posted outside the VIP room, which meant no way he’d get in. Instead, he approached the bartender—the good-looking one with the beard. What was his name? Larry? Lucas. Hopefully, the guy had a better memory than he did.
“What can I get you, gorgeous?” Lucas leaned forward, elbows on the bar.
“I’m looking for Parker.” If all else fails, go with name recognition. “Have you seen him around?”
“Can’t say I have.”
Robby pushed a twenty across the bar. “You mind if I go look for him in the back?”
Lucas lifted an eyebrow, then swiped the bill and stuffed it in his pocket. “Sure. Tell the Terminator over there I said to let you through.”
He passed over a second twenty, which prompted a grin and wink from Lucas. Who knew when it would pay off to be in the bartender’s good graces?
No one in the thin crowd stepped in his way as he approached the back door, but the big guy in the tight black jacket dropped his arm menacingly across the entryway when he made it back. “Private party.”
“Not according to Lucas.” He ran an exaggerated gaze over the bouncer’s bulging biceps. “I see why he calls you the Terminator.”
The bouncer scoffed. “Why the fuck can’t he pick something hotter than Schwarzenegger? How about Jason Momoa or something?”
The man looked nothing like Jason Momoa or Arnold Schwarzenegger, even in his younger days. He was more beefy than muscular, and his short, dark hair was visibly thinning on the top.
But the guy’s appearance didn’t matter. Robby wasn’t here to find a date; he only needed to get in the back room. “Sometimes people can’t see what’s right in front of them.”
The bouncer shook his head in a cross between irritation and disgust, but more importantly, he stepped aside to leave the doorway wide open.
No more wasting time.
Robby stepped into the back room, and the change in atmosphere hit him like a ton of bricks. How had he not noticed it instantly when he came in here before?
While the dance floor had a distinct sexual energy, out there, he’d felt exhilarated, liberated, and carefree. Out there, the men owned their sexuality, whether they showed it through sweetness, swagger, or a shy smile.
In here, the air felt heavier, stickier. Debauchery and desperation dripped from the dark velvety curtains and clung to everything like an oily sheen.
He shuddered against the pit in his stomach and scanned the crowd for anyone who might want to get out. Though most could hide it, Robby felt like he’d be able to sense any true desolation. Like calling to like.
Almost immediately, he zeroed in on a slight redhead, maybe nineteen or twenty years old, with deep purple bruises creeping above the collar of
his tight emerald-green glittery shirt. The guy leaned against the bar, his gaze trained on the floor, but he snuck glances around him every few seconds. Submissive, but aware of his surroundings.
Robby approached him from the side and stopped with about three feet between them. He didn’t look at the guy directly, instead facing the bar when he spoke. “I don’t expect you to believe me. When I was you, I wouldn’t have, but I’m telling you the truth. There’s a way to get out of here. Out of this place, out of this life.”
Setting the card on the bar between them, he lifted his hand for the bartender and ordered a bottled water. The redhead made no move to take the card.
“I volunteer at an outreach center on Peachtree. It’s not like the community shelters. We have individual rooms with doors and locks. You won’t have to share. You don’t have to pay, not in any way.”
He passed a five-dollar bill to the bartender as he accepted his drink. “We don’t have anything fancy, but we can give you four walls and a roof over your head. We’ll help you find a job, help you get on your feet.”
“And what’s in it for you?” the guy rasped. “Are you wanting me to believe you’re just saving souls out of the goodness of your heart?”
“I’m trying to make peace with what happened to me.” He turned to face the young man for the first time. “I didn’t think I’d ever get out, but I did. Nobody rescued me. Thing is, though, a stranger gave me a chance, gave me a job, when I needed one. If he hadn’t put a hand out to me, I don’t know how long I would’ve lasted before I ended up right back where I started. I’d be dead right now. One way or another. Someone would’ve killed me, or I would’ve killed myself.”
He gave the bar his back. “I hope you take the card. I hope you visit the center, but you’ve got to make the choice to save yourself first. You are worth saving; you just have to believe it.”
Of course, he wanted to say more, to plead with the guy to believe him and take what he offered, but he knew if he pushed, he’d only sabotage any progress he’d made. Instead, he walked away.
Trying to look casual, he sipped his drink as he passed one booth after the next. Even before sundown, men filled the seats.
At the first table, a forty-something Hispanic man jerked off, watching the trans woman standing naked—save for red heels—rubbing her breasts and getting a blow-job from a guy kneeling on the floor. Robby couldn’t tell if all the players really wanted to be there, but he couldn’t justify interrupting to find out. His stomach roiled as he moved on.
A group of five men crammed in the second booth, apparently halfway through a game of strip poker.
In the third, a couple kissed ardently as though they were the only two people on earth, a half-eaten plate of skewered shrimp on the table in front of them.
Then, the world stopped when he turned to the next tableau and locked eyes with the last person he’d ever wanted to see at a place like this ever again. A pinched-face older man gripped a shirtless Brady by the back of the neck and shook him.
“Do I have to remind you of the rules?” he hissed.
“No, sir,” the boy choked out.
“If feel your teeth one more time, I’ll knock them right out of your mouth.”
Robby didn’t think; he just reached to the table behind him, grabbed a skewer, and lunged, digging the tip into the older man’s throat. “Let go of the kid right now, or so help me, I will fucking end you.”
The man released his grip, and Brady stared at him with wide eyes.
“Grab your clothes, Brady, and stand up.”
The boy scuttled from his seat, and Robby pulled the metal stick away from the man beside him. A dot of blood welled in its wake. “Get out of here, asshole. If I ever see you again, it will be the worst day of your life, you understand?”
He stepped back to give the man room to escape, which he did quickly, his hand cupping his neck as if he might bleed to death rather than just drip on his collar. Dropping the skewer on the table, Robby turned to Brady.
The boy’s body shook, his thin arms wrapped around his bare midsection. At least a pair of white shorts covered some of his bottom half. “He’s going to tell my boyfriend about this, and I’m going to lose everything. I know you were trying to help, but—” He took a stuttered breath. “I don’t have anywhere to go now.”
Robby took off his lightweight jacket and hung it around Brady’s shoulders. “You’re wrong. Come on.” He steered him toward the door. “We’re going back to the Q-Center.”
***
Matt
Matt stood outside of Nitro at exactly five o’clock, trying to ignore the smug look on Parker’s face as he pranced up the walkway in a pair of skin-tight jeans and a form-fitting T-shirt.
“I wasn’t sure you’d really come, dove.” The blond looked around in an exaggerated motion Patty would’ve called extra. “I don’t see your lovely lady friend. She seemed very interested in what I had to say about Robby.”
“Patty’s working,” he gritted. She’d been pissed about it, had wanted to see what Parker had told her about firsthand, but apparently, Steve had booked a ton of appointments and said he couldn’t spare her help. “Just show me what you came to show me, and let’s skip the small talk.”
Parker dropped his fake smile. “Okay. Follow me.” The man led him into the club, past the dance floor and straight to a door in back, guarded by a balding guy wearing all black.
The bouncer—or whatever he was—didn’t even blink as Parker opened the door and breezed inside. The flashing lights and pounding beat melted into a dim yellow cast and a slower, more sensual soundtrack. The lingering scent of piped-in smoke mixed with some kind of incense and sex.
The shadows hanging over the room kept him from taking in everything at once, but as Parker led him to the far right near the bar, more details took shape. Like the sweaty, pudgy man kneeling on his seat with his dick in hand, coming on the tits of a woman who was…getting a blowjob?
“You took me to a sex club?” he hissed.
Parker chuckled. “Where did you think you were going? Narnia? I told you, Robby’s not the saint you think he is.” The asshole gripped his arm. “See the kid over there?”
A tear leaked down the cheek of a redhead, a very young redhead. A man crushed the side of his head against the paneled wall, as he fucked him from behind. Matt’s stomach gurgled, threatening to cast his lunch on the floor.
“Kids like him, guys like the one doing him—they’re the bread and butter of places like this. You asked me how I knew so much about Robby’s sex life; it’s because I’ve seen him, just like this. And those were on the tame nights. Other times, he got downright kinky. The more drugs he did, the less he cared. I saw him take on two at once. Oh, and I hear he gives a hell of a blowjob.” He cocked his head. “Is it true?”
Shaking his arm out of Parker’s grasp, Matt tried to put distance between them. “Screw you.”
“But don’t pull his hair. Right?”
He stopped in front of a table of naked guys playing cards and spun back to look the blond viper in the eyes. “I don’t believe you. No matter how many disgusting details you throw at me. No matter how you try to get under my skin.”
Robby would never come to a place like this. At least, not the back room. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.
No. Parker was just using tiny truths to convince him of lies.
Flexing his fingers, he tried not to ball his hands into fists—and failed. “Obviously, you’ve got some ax to grind with Robby, but you’re wasting your time trying to poison me against him. He would never be a part of this sordid garbage.”
“You sure?” A wicked gleam shone in Parker’s eyes.
Matt lifted his chin. “I’d bet my life on it.”
“Yeah? You might want to rethink that bet.” Parker smirked and looked pointedly over Matt’s shoulder. “Your paragon of virtue is right over there, and it looks like he’s not leaving alone.”
Following the direction of Parker’s
gaze, his heart stuttered, then shattered into a thousand tiny pieces.
Robby guided a teenage boy through the room, the kid wearing nothing but a pair of shorty-shorts and Robby’s distinctive new H&M jacket. As they turned toward the door, the kid reached back and grabbed Robby’s hand.
“There has to be an explanation,” he whispered and moved forward to get it.
Or tried to. Parker gripped his arm. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters.” He tried to shake off the other man’s grip, but Parker’s fingers dug in like a bear trap. “Maybe not to you, but to your baby’s mama. I know a dozen guys who’ll happily tell her all about seeing Robby here. One or two might be willing to testify to it in court.”
“Why?” he asked hoarsely. “What difference does all of this make to you?”
Parker released Matt’s arm and ran his hand over his hair. “Maybe it’s because Steve matters to me and Patty matters to him. Or maybe I just have a soft spot for children. I wouldn’t want your little boy wrapped up with someone as fucked up as your boy Robby.”
Bullshit.
Matt took in the debauchery all around him. The smell of sweat and lube. The wet slapping sounds. And something cracked deep inside of him.
Why had he ignored his own intuition? Why had Robby been with men like John? What kind of secrets did a man have to bury in a hole to live with?
Because he was hiding something he thought was unforgivable.
And while he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, Robby would have an explanation for all this—the man he loved was good and kind and true—he knew, just as surely, this could be the wedge Patty would use to take Jimmy away once and for all.
Matt had already put aside dreams to which he’d come so close. Of becoming an architect. Of finishing college. And he would do it all again a hundred times over for his son. His heart beat for his little boy. He would never abandon him. Never give up fighting for him.