The light went on in Brandon’s head. “You’re worried because you think you may be too inexperienced for him?”
Jamie squeaked out a yes, eyes still focused on the worn tile floor. Brandon said, “Jamie, look at me.”
Jamie obeyed, albeit reluctantly. Brandon gave him an encouraging smile. “Finally, you’ve hit on an area where I have at least a little bit of experience.”
“What do you mean?”
“When Nate and I met, he was a virgin, kid, and I do mean a virgin.”
Jamie couldn’t believe it. “Doc Nash?”
“One and the same. Whereas you’ve gotten a good head start on the whole sex thing with Dillon, Nate had zero to fall back on. And you know what?”
“What?”
“I could have cared less. Nate was all I wanted, and I wouldn’t have cared if he’d been with one guy or a hundred. I’m willing to bet Dillon feels the same way.”
Jamie shuffled his feet. “I hope so, but even if he does, I’m not sure it’s the right time to even be thinking about sex.”
“Why not? You’re eighteen-years-old. At eighteen, I was a walking erection. Thinking about sex was pretty much my main occupation.”
His too, but Jamie wasn’t gonna say it. Instead, he said, “Yeah, but Ben’s been gone less than a week. It wouldn’t be right to fall into bed with Dillon. Would it?”
“That’s a pretty broad question, but like I told Nate when he was grieving for his friend Amy, you’re the only one who can answer it. Personally, I think sex is an affirmation of life, especially between two people who love each other, but that’s something you have to work out on your own. My best advice is to take it slow and see what happens.”
Jamie blew out the breath he’d been holding. “I was hoping you could give me some magic formula so I’d know when the time was right.”
“No such luck, kid. ‘Dear Abby,’ I’m not.”
Jamie actually smiled over that one, despite his inner conflict. “Maybe not, but she couldn’t have helped me any more than you did today. Thanks, Brandon. And thanks for what you did for Ben.”
“Like I said, Jamie, anytime. Now, get out of here before school starts. And, Jamie?”
“Yes?”
“I know you’re upset about Sledge cutting a deal, but Ben’s killer will get what he deserves. I’m sure of it.”
Jamie nodded to be polite, but something deep inside told him that Brandon was wrong. Dead wrong.
* * *
Dillon’s first day back at school since the big out coming wasn’t at all what he’d expected. He’d dropped an unusually quiet Jamie off at the door to his home room and then headed to his own class. Except for a couple of whispered comments and one ‘faggot’ thrown at him by Rooster Carmichael, most everyone who’d spoken to him had been positive, even downright friendly, about his newly established orientation. One kid asked him to join the G.S.A., and another patted him on the back and said, “Way to go.” A couple of girls whom he’d never really paid attention to before were looking at him like he was fresh meat, probably planning on trying to convert him. He and Jamie had taken Megan to Hailey’s for lunch, and, even there--away from Dan Morgan’s ‘gay utopia’--the climate had been nothing but pleasant among adults and students alike. He’d also managed to avoid even a glimpse of his mother, something he was in no way ready for. Now, here he sat, in his last class of the day. He’d almost convinced himself he was home free when Dan Morgan’s voice came over the intercom. “Mr. Matthews?”
Dillon’s English teacher said, “Yes, sir?”
“Send Dillon Carver to my office, please.”
Dillon’s heart sank as he gathered up his books and went to answer the summons. And here he thought he’d made it. Damn. He should have known better.
The Principal’s office was just a stone’s throw away from the English department. Dillon forced himself to knock on the door. He almost bolted when Morgan called out, “Come in,” but he made himself open the door, anyway. Better just to get it over with.
Morgan stood when he saw Dillon. “Ah, Dillon. Good, you’re here. Please, close the door and have a seat.”
Dillon took the chair across from Morgan’s desk and dropped his books onto the floor. While Morgan seated himself, Dillon took the opportunity to look around. He’d only been in this office once, in his freshman year, when Mr. Foley had been the principal, and Dillon had gotten busted for lobbing water balloons from the gym balcony. Mr. Foley had decorated the room with pictures of his wife, kids, and grandkids. Morgan, on the other hand, had painted the gray cinder block walls a rich brown to match the stylish mahogany desk. Framed art prints graced the walls, and an oriental rug covered the vinyl floor. The only artwork on Foley’s walls had been crayon drawings and educational posters. Morgan’s office looked more like that of a young executive than that of one belonging to a high school principal.
Morgan sat back in his chair and laced his hands together, his index fingers forming a steeple that he pressed to his lips. “I supposed you’re wondering why I called you down here.”
“I have a pretty good idea.”
“Yes, I’m sure you do. That kiss you gave James Walker yesterday kicked up quite a stir.”
“Yes, sir, I know it did, and I also know it’s against school policy. Before you suspend me, though, I want to make it clear that James had nothing to do with it. I kissed him, and if anyone should be punished, it’s me.”
Morgan shook his head. “You misunderstand me, Dillon. Neither of you is going to be punished. Yes, kissing on school property is frowned upon, but under the circumstances, we’ll overlook it, just this once.” Morgan paused, more for affect, Dillon thought, than anything else. Finally, he continued with, “I called you in here to talk about your mother.”
Dillon’s body went on high alert. “My mother? What’s she got to do with this?”
“Dillon, I understand that this is a tricky situation, but I’m going to be as candid as I can, here. Your mother called me at home last night, ranting and raving about you and James. She wanted me to expel James for what she called your ‘corruption,’ and she wanted me to have the school counselor refer you to a psychiatrist. She also hinted that since you’re eighteen and out of her reach, I should tell said psychiatrist that I feel you’re a danger to yourself and need to be admitted to a state hospital for observation.”
“She said what?” Dillon could feel hot blood racing through his veins.
Morgan put up his hand. “Calm down. I told your mother in no uncertain terms that I would do no such thing. Not only is it illegal, but it violates your rights and goes against everything I believe in. Angela may be a gifted teacher, but I’m not about to let her use Plunkett as a forum to further her own personal prejudices. I told her as much last night.”
Dillon snorted. “Bet she liked that.”
“Actually, she told me that she won’t come back to work as long as you and James are still students here. I reminded her that a refusal to come in goes against her contract. She refused to budge on her position, leaving me no choice but to suspend her without pay pending a school board hearing. In all likelihood, your mother is going to be fired.”
Dillon felt sick. He might not approve of what she was doing, but he still loved his mother and hated knowing that he was the reason she was losing the job she’d held for the last fifteen years. He sighed. “Any chance she can keep her job? She has tenure here at Plunkett, and James and I will be graduating in less than four months. Couldn’t she just take a leave of absence until then?”
Morgan shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Unfortunately, Angela has a reputation for taking her agenda against homosexuals into the classroom with her. I’ve had several complaints from the parents of gay and lesbian students, all claiming that Angela singled them out and treated them with less care than the so-called ‘straight’ kids. So far, I haven’t had any solid proof of wrong doing, so she’s kept a clean record. Now, though, having seen the extent of her bigotry firsthand, I can say with all honesty that I no longer want her working for this school.”
Dillon slumped down in his chair. He hated this, all of it. So what if he was in love with another guy? Why did the whole world have to go nuts over it? Dejected, he gathered up his books and stood. “Was that the only reason you wanted to see me?”
Morgan rose from his chair and came around the desk to stand in front of Dillon. He put his hand on Dillon’s arm. “That, and to tell you that I admire you for being brave enough to be honest about your sexuality.” The hand on Dillon’s arm started moving in soft, slow strokes that made Dillon feel queasy. “I know it couldn’t have been easy, and if there’s anything I can do for you--anything at all--just let me know.” He used his free hand to reach into the pocket of his silk shirt and pulled out a card. Dillon reached for it, and Morgan put up the palm of the hand holding the card flat against Dillon’s chest. “Just remember, I’m on your side. I’m a good man to have in your corner. I have ‘connections.’”
Dillon moved back enough to break Morgan’s hold. Reaching out before Morgan could stop him, Dillon grabbed the card and said, “Uh, thanks, Mr. Morgan. The last bell is gonna ring, and I promised James I’d give him a ride home, so, if there’s nothing else, I’d better go.”
Morgan nodded and smiled that ultra slick grin. “Of course. I know you and James probably have things you need to take care of. Just remember what I said and call if you need me.” Then the bastard winked.
Dillon couldn’t have moved any faster if his feet had been on fire. He tore out of the office and made straight for the bathroom. He splashed water on his face, hoping to calm himself. Had Morgan just hit on him? He could still feel the touch of Morgan’s fingers as they’d slid over the fabric of his shirt. He had to be imagining things. No way would a successful principal hit on one of his students. That just didn’t happen. Not in Reed, Illinois, anyway. Dillon was definitely loosing it. He thought maybe he should talk to someone about it, but decided against it. They’d just think he was crazy. Even so, he tossed Morgan’s card in the trash before leaving to meet James.
* * *
For the next two days, Dillon and Jamie did a sort of polite dance around each other. Their conversations were comfortable enough, but there was no hint of the romance Dillon was aching for. Megan kept telling him to give Jamie time, and not to push. Dillon knew she was right, but the one taste he’d had of Jamie had him longing for more of the same. If Jamie felt the same urges, though, he hid it well.
Dillon groaned as another ridge from the lumpy sofa bed frame pressed into his back. He really needed to go apartment hunting. Not only was he working on a serious case of bed back, but he just couldn’t stand to keep living in this mess Heath called an apartment. Not without a tetanus shot. He’d cleaned where he could, but his efforts were futile in the face of all of that filth. Dillon was no neat freak, but he drew the line at three week old pizza lying out on the table and the thin black layer of grease surrounding the tub. He rolled over and sighed. Saturday morning. He didn’t have to report back to work at the pharmacy until Monday night. He should try to go back to sleep, but he couldn’t. Tonight was the memorial service for Ben, and Dillon was worried. Not about the service itself, but about Jamie’s reaction to it. Brandon had said something about closure, but Dillon had serious doubts as to whether or not Jamie was gonna find it.
Finally giving up on the idea of getting any more rest, Dillon untangled himself from the covers and stood, stretching to rid himself of the last traces of sleep. He located a pair of clean jeans, buried underneath a pile of plastic grocery sacks Heath had unloaded last night and then thrown on the floor. Dillon couldn’t even gripe at his brother about it because Heath had already left for work. Dillon shook his head and reached for his shirt. Might as well start the day. He’d just pulled the t-shirt over his head when someone knocked on the door.
Dillon opened the door to find Megan and her mother standing on the stoop, an arsenal of cleaning supplies piled behind them. He didn’t realize he was staring until Megan said, “Well, aren’t you gonna let us in?”
“What? Oh, yeah. Sorry, Megan. Mrs. Nash.” He reached for the caddy full of cleaners Megan’s mom was holding. “Here, Mrs. Nash, let me take that for you.”
Every time he saw her, Dillon marveled at the resemblance between Megan and her mother. Gale Nash was the older version of her daughter, all fiery red hair and big, blue eyes. She shook her head. “I’ve got this, sweetie. And if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, Dillon, call me Gale.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He grabbed the rest of the cleaning supplies from the stoop and carried them into the house. Closing the door behind him he said, “Not to sound like I’m unhappy to see you, but what are you guys doing here?”
Gale held up the caddy. “What does it look like, doll? We’re here to clean this pigsty.” She looked around and curled her nose. “And from the looks of it, we got here not a moment too soon. Meggie, you start in the bathroom. Dillon, you take your brother’s room, since you know him better than we do. Heath might not like a couple of females rooting through his things.” Gale stepped over a pair of Heath’s well worn jockey shorts and wrinkled her nose. “Though from the looks of it, he’s not overly picky about his possessions. Meanwhile, I’m gonna start in the kitchen.”
“Gale, you don’t have to do this. I know you have better things to do than clean up after us. It’s my responsibility. I--”
Gale patted his cheek. “Dillon, you’re a sweet kid, and I love you. Now hush up and get to work before I spank that cute little butt of yours. From what I’ve heard, Jamie Walker has other plans for it.”
Dillon blushed to the roots of his hair, and Megan said, “Moooooo-ther!”
Gale just laughed. “You kids are so squeamish about sex. If you don’t stop complaining and get to work, I’ll call Grandma Taylor and ask her to come over and explain the facts of life to you two prudes.”
Just the thought of having the family matriarch come and give them “the talk” was enough to send fear into the hearts of men, women, and children alike. Dillon and Megan went to work without another word.
* * *
Six hours later, there wasn’t a surface in the apartment that didn’t shine or a piece of furniture that wasn’t in its proper place. The fresh smells of pine cleaner and disinfectant filled the apartment, and Dillon could actually see the carpet for the first time since moving in.
Dillon stood in the middle of the now clean living room, grinning at Megan and Gale. “I can’t thank you enough for doing this.”
“You worked just as hard, Dillon. Thanks aren’t necessary.” Gale tilted her head and studied him for a minute. “It’s hard for you to accept help, isn’t it?” Dillon nodded and Gale said, “Why do you think that is, sweetie?”
“I’m not sure. I know my dad was always after both me and Heath, telling us to grow up and be men.”
“There’s a big difference between taking responsibility and being trapped by stubborn pride.” Gale walked over to where Dillon stood and wrapped him in a tight hug. “From what I can tell, your father raised two good men, no thanks to his rotten influence. Just goes to show you that roses really can spring up in the middle of a weed patch.”
Dillon hugged her back, grateful for the comfort. Before he could say anything else, Gale backed away and said, “Now, do you have a suit to wear to Ben’s memorial?”
“Yes, ma’am. I hung it up in Heath’s closet when I moved in.”
“Megan, you run out to the van and grab my iron and ironing board. Dillon, you go get your suit. We should have just enough time to get your clothes pressed before Megan and I have to run home and get ready for the service ourselves.”
“You’re coming tonight?”
“Of course, sweetie. We consider you family. Don’t you know that’s what family is for?”
Dillon didn’t know that. He’d never been around a family like the Nash’s before. He wasn’t sure just why they considered him one of their own, but he was damned glad they did.
* * *
Dillon pulled his car into the parking lot of the First Christian Church of Reed. He spotted Sadie’s car a few spaces away, and wished for the hundredth time Jamie had ridden with him. He understood Jamie’s reasons for riding with his aunt, but he hoped at least Jamie would let Dillon take him home. Dillon needed to be close to him, to breathe the same air, share the same space, if only for a few minutes.
Dillon was no stranger to the First Christian Church, having visited with Megan too many times to count. He liked the open atmosphere, the lack of condemnation. The preacher at his mother and father’s church was an expert on hellfire and brimstone. Nothing like two hours worth of sin and conviction to make a guy want to throw himself out of a third story window. Walter Oakley, though, the preacher here at First Christian, was different. He spoke about love, and about forgiveness. Dillon knew that Jamie went to the Methodist Church with Sadie. He wondered if Jamie’s pastor preached about love and forgiveness, too. Dillon certainly hoped so. From Jamie, Dillon needed both.
The first person Dillon saw when he entered the church foyer was Brandon, in conversation with Jamie’s aunt. Dillon shook Brandon’s hand and then kissed Sadie’s cheek.
Sadie patted Dillon’s shoulder. “Dillon, it was good of you to come. I know you and Ben Lewis weren’t exactly friends.”
“That’s an understatement. And from what I hear, the two of you weren’t exactly on the best of terms, either.”
“Too true. I thought--and still do--that Ben Lewis was a hoodlum of the first order. I’m sorry to see any young man end up the way Ben did, but I can’t say I’m surprised.” She gave Dillon a warm smile. “Since neither of us were members of the Ben Lewis fan club, I can only assume we’re here for the same reason. To support Jamie.”
“Yes, ma’am. That’s about the size of it.” Dillon looked around the foyer and then peered into the sanctuary. “Speaking of James, where is he?”
Brandon pointed towards the right side hallway. “I saw him go into the prayer room about ten minutes ago. You might go in and check on him. He looked kinda pale.”
Dillon was down the hall like a shot. He’d never been in the prayer room before, but he’d seen it on his way to the church kitchen, two doors down. Even if he hadn’t known where to find it, the raised voices coming from within would have served as his guide. He recognized Jamie’s voice, and he heard the word “No.” That was all Dillon needed to hear.
Dillon flung the door open. Jamie was backed into a corner, his hands held out in front of his chest. Ash Barnes stood not even a foot from Jamie, his face flushed with agitation. Dillon slipped in, and before the door even closed behind him, he heard Ash say, “You did it for Ben. Why won’t you do it for me? Am I not good enough for you?”
“I told you, it wasn’t like that with Ben and me.”
“And I told you, I’m not buying it. I saw that kiss Ben planted on you at the dance. I want some of what you gave him. I want you to suck my dick.”