Dirty Secret (26 page)

“Sorry,” I mumbled, and put them on the table next to the bed. My face was wet, and I wiped at my cheeks, hoping Claudia hadn’t seen me lose my shit.

“Don’t be ashamed to cry, Cole.” She patted my hand, tangling me into the tubing coming out of her arm. I undid myself and went to grab a chair, but she held onto my shirt. “Stay here. Sit on the edge of the bed, and talk to me.”

I did as she told me. I usually did. I took a moment to study her. Her cheeks glowed pink, and her skin was back to its rich café shade, not a hint of the sickly gray haunting my dreams. There was a small handprint of glitter on her left cheek and some plastic barrettes stuck in odd angles in her hair. She’d obviously been subjected to some sort of little girl makeover, but it looked nice on her. It felt damned good to feel her warmth against me, and I didn’t even mind when she smacked me on the side of my head.

“You will
not
apologize for me being here,” Claudia scolded. “If anything, I got a free tummy tuck and all the Jell-O I can eat. I will not hear any of your crap about being the reason I’m here.”

“I didn’t say anything!” I rubbed at the spot, mostly for effect. “I am sorry—”

She smacked harder this time and grunted slightly in pain. Waving me off when I reached for the nurse’s button, Claudia rearranged her robe so she was more comfortable and gave me an ogle. “Did they catch who did it? I heard about that boy. He was an idiot, but he didn’t deserve that.”

“No, he didn’t,” I agreed. “And no, they haven’t caught the guy yet. The cops found the car, but that’s about it. I probably shouldn’t stay long. The doctors will want you to rest.”

“I’ll rest when I’m dead,” she pronounced. “How are you? Where were you hurt?”

“Just on my back. Only a scratch.” Tugging up my shirt, I showed her the bandage. “I’ve had worse.”

“I don’t see why you keep getting shot up, son,” Claudia tsked. “It’s like you go asking for it.”

“This time I can say I don’t have a clue.” I told her about Wong’s theory about the shootings being related, and then my visit with Seong Ryeowon. She was thoughtful when I was done. “Honestly, I wish all mothers were like you. Marcus is lucky to have you.”

Claudia studied me for a long moment, then reached for my hand. Wrapping her fingers in mine, she sighed and squeezed hard. “Is that what you think? That it was easy for me when Marcus told me?”

“Maybe not… easy,” I stammered. “Sure as hell better than Barbara and my dad.”

“I threw him out,” Claudia said quietly. “My boy… the son I’d fed from my breast and rocked when he was sick… and I threw him from the house like he was rubbish.”

“You never told me that.” Shock rippled through me. Of all of Claudia’s sons, Marcus was the one she seemed to have the most
fun
with. “I didn’t know.”

“He was a boy, not even fourteen,” she murmured. “And he came to me with full faith, and I cast him out. What does that say about me? What does that say about my heart that I’d do that to my son?”

“Why?” I was confused. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I’d been raised that it was a sin, and nothing Marcus did would save his soul,” Claudia responded. “I left the house to go find my pastor because I was so angry and hurt. I needed to find something to hold on to. I needed someone to tell me I’d done the right thing and that it would all be okay.”

“Did you find him?” I’d never been one for church, but Claudia and her family went every weekend. From what I’ve heard, they had a great time. I preferred sleeping in and having sex, but everyone communes with God in different ways.

“No, I never made it to church,” she admitted. “I drove around, and somehow ended up at those gardens at the Huntington. My car ran out of gas. Right there. So I got out, and it was free to get into the Japanese place that day, so I went in. I found some rock where it was quiet, sat down, and cried my eyes out.”

“I’m sorry….”

“No. Don’t be sorry for me. See, I’d beaten my son, Cole,” Claudia murmured. “I’d smacked their butts for misbehaving before, but this was the first time I’d raised my hand to him in anger. In hatred. My own son. And God, if I didn’t sit there in some strange place when I was going to head to church because I was so lost.”

“He’d come to me in faith and love, and I turned him away.” She shook her head. “I’d lost faith, not in God or Marcus, but in myself. I’d let someone tell me what was right and wrong. All of these years, I’ve listened to preachers and people around me saying that someone like Marcus was wicked and evil.”

“Not Marcus.” I chuckled.

“No, not my Marcus. I
raised
that boy. I knew who he was. I’d seen him share with others who had nothing. I’ve listened as he worked out his brothers’ disagreements, because they knew he was fair. I spat on him because he knew himself? Because he knew how to love? Because he was honest with himself and me? He came to me, knowing I would love him and hold him when the world would tear him apart, and I crucified him for his love,” Claudia said with another squeeze of my hand. “There,
that’s
when I finally heard God laughing at me. I’d been given a son who had flaws, yes, but who was a good man with a good heart, and I’d fucked it up.”

“Claudia!” I mocked her. “Language. So you guys are okay? I mean now?”

“Now, yes, but he was a teenager eventually. I straightened him, okay,” she laughed. “Of all of them, he and Martin gave me the least worries. But, do you know what I think Marcus was really sent to me for? Other than to teach me humility?”

“Nope,” I said, shaking my head. “Not a clue.”

“I think God knew that I’d one day get bored with retirement and go looking for something to do,” Claudia said softly. “He knew that there was a broken gay boy who’d been treated with such little care that he’d need someone like me in his life. I just had to know how to love him. And if I couldn’t find it in my heart to love the son I already had, how could I learn to love the one I would find?”

She held me again, tighter than she’d done before, and I fought not to fall, but wasn’t very successful. Wrapped in her strong arms, I let the pain inside of me surface until I cracked open. It hurt. My throat turned raw, and I gripped Claudia’s shoulders like I was drowning. She let me silently drench her, rubbing at my back until I couldn’t breathe and finally had to come up for air.

Cupping my face, she held me fast and forced me to look at her. “There is nothing wrong with you that some good food and love can’t fix. You just have to eat well and open your heart up. Despite those people who have tried to make you less than who you are, Cole McGinnis, you are a good boy. You deserve everything good that comes your way. Remember that.”

“Okay,” I murmured, and kissed her palm. Chuckling, I asked, “Did you
ever
make it to church that day?”

“No.” She barked a laugh. “I called my friend to come bring me some gas, and then I went to find a church that didn’t tell me it was okay to hate. Just because God smacks me on the head once, doesn’t mean he calls me up to chat.”

“True,” I agreed. “’Course if God starts talking to you on a regular basis, you let me know. We’ll get you a robe with the arms that wrap around your back.”

She was tired. I’d worn her out, and now Claudia was sagging in her bed. Gathering up the balloons, I righted them as much as I could, and tied them to one of the chairs. We both waited a moment, expecting the chair to take flight, but it was made of sterner stuff and remained grounded. Jae knocked on the door, and they visited for a few minutes, long enough for Claudia’s eyes to flutter and Jae to kiss her on the cheek. We let ourselves out of the room, holding the door open for a couple of the women to go in.

The hallway was remarkably clear of the horde, with the exception of a few of the sons hovering near the vending machines. Martin was waiting for us a few feet away and waved us over to where he stood. He gave me a quick hug and slapped me on the back. It was like being smote by a lightning bolt.

“I’m glad you came. Momma was asking about you. I told her you’d be in today.” He took a Coke one of his brothers handed him, urging me to take a can from the stack they’d purchased.

“Wild horses couldn’t have kept me away,” I said. Jae’d refused a can, but took mine from me after I’d opened it, sipping it before handing it back.

“Jae-Min here says there’s something we should talk about,” Martin said. “Something about one of the flower arrangements. The ones with the Korean on them.”

I looked at Jae. “What about them? They’re not from Scarlet?”

“One of them is,” Jae replied. “The other one isn’t. A man dropped them off and asked to talk to the head of the family.”

“I told him she was inside that room,” Martin responded. “But he could talk to me if he wanted. He was Korean. Kind of spoke the same way Hyunae’s mom does, like English was really hard.”

“Hyunae?” I asked.

“Marcel’s girlfriend,” Jae and Martin said at the same time.

“She’s Korean,” Jae interjected. “Martin, tell Cole what he said to you.”

“He said he was sorry about Momma,” Martin replied. “I thought maybe he was someone Momma knew, but when I asked her, she said she really only knew Scarlet and her boyfriend. We’d already gotten flowers from them, and Hyunae’s family sent fruit.”

“Did he tell you his name?” I asked. “Shit, do you have a card or something from the flowers?”

“No name,” Martin said. “But Jae-Min’s got the florist card.”

“I got it when I saw the wreath. It says
I’m sorry for causing you pain. I beg your forgiveness.
” Jae yelped when I grabbed him into a hard hug. “
Aish
, let go.”

“God, I love you.” He stiffened in my arms, but I refused to let him go, hugging him tighter. Kissing his ear, I whispered, “I told you I’m going to love you. Let me at least be fucking happy you read the wreath, okay?”

“Okay,” he said grudgingly as I let him go. “For that.”

“Thanks, Martin.” I shook his hand and let him pound on my back again. My shoulder wound disagreed with me and sent a warning twinge down my spine. I told it to fuck off and take it like a man. My ribs disagreed and cramped up, showing an uncharacteristic solidarity with my shoulder. “I’ll get a hold of Wong and see if he’ll chase it down.”

“Not a problem. If that’s the guy that shot her, then I’m sorry I let him get out of here.” He smiled, and it was not a pretty sight. “Next time I see him, he and I will have some words.”

“Let me know if he comes back,” I said. “Okay?”

“Sure,” Martin replied softly. “I just can’t promise you he’ll be in any shape when you get here, but I’ll let you know.”

“Good enough,” I agreed. “All he needs is his tongue so he can talk. Anything else… that’s fair game.”

“Man can talk with a stump,” Martin disagreed. “But I’ll do my best, Cole. I’ll definitely do my best.”

Chapter Eighteen

I
DUG
through my notes for Brandon Yeu’s number after offering to help Jae with dinner and getting rebuffed by a derisive snort. From the noise he’d made, one would think I’d lived on steak and frozen pizzas before he’d come along. If I didn’t have a large chest freezer with half a cow and a stack of extra pepperoni and cheese pies in it, I could almost say he’d be telling the truth.

It took a few deep breaths before I dialed the phone. I was willingly going to break into a man’s life and open up a wound he’d thought long healed. And I was going to do it with a rusty, dull fork only so I could find out what happened to a dead man.

“Hello?” The man sounded young. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but a soft lilting voice wasn’t it.

“Brandon Yeu?” I broached.

“No, hold on.” The voice muted a bit, and I heard him ask someone else something. “May I ask who’s calling?”

“Cole McGinnis. I’m a private investigator,” I replied. “I need to ask him questions about a man he knew a long time ago.”

There was a bit of a wait, only a few moments, but it was enough to make my stomach curl. When someone else picked up, my intestines decided my stomach had the right idea, and began crawling up my throat.

“Hello? This is Yeu.” I introduced myself first then laid out what I’d been asked to do. There was a dead silence on the other end, and then a shuddering sigh. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that name.”

“I can imagine,” I replied. “I’m not looking to make trouble for you. I’m only trying to find out what happened to Park Dae-Hoon, so his sons have some closure. If it’s any consolation, they’ve decided to return the money he’d taken, along with any interest. I’d like to arrange that at least.”

“I don’t… know,” he stammered, and in the background someone asked him if he was okay. Yeu murmured something in response, then came back to me. “What do you need?”

“Mostly, to find out if you’d seen anything that night. Anything would be helpful. I’m trying to recreate what happened at Bi Mil. I’m hoping to find something to lead me to where Dae-Hoon went after that.”

“Let me think about it,” Yeu said. “My life is different now. I don’t… hide anymore, but you’re asking me to think about a time of my life I’d much rather forget about.”