Wayward Son (13 page)

“Morning,” he replied. He didn’t know what to say from there.
Thanks for a great fucking, I’ll be going now?

Cory didn’t leave him hanging. “We go out for brunch a lot on Sundays, but I’m still kind of tired from last night.” He shot Mikey a wicked grin. “And not just from that either. Mostly my feet are killing me. Those boots are just a bit too tight, I think.”

He looked down at his bare feet and wiggled his toes, and Mikey acted on instinct. “You need me to rub them for you?”

Cory’s grin lit up his face. “Oh, that would be fabulous. Let’s get our coffee and head into the living room. Jimmy’ll be out a little longer, I’m betting. He doesn’t do mornings well, and especially not after a night like we had.”

Mikey blushed as images from that night flashed through his mind. He didn’t hurt as much as he’d thought he would, but he was definitely tender back there, and he was just kind of sore all over. “It was, um… well, it was amazing. But yeah.” He shrugged. “It was kind of a workout.”

Cory laughed as the coffeemaker sputtered to a stop. “Best exercise in the world.” He reached for the pot and poured coffee into two of the three mugs sitting on the counter. “How do you take your coffee?”

Mikey moved closer. “Lots of sugar and creamer, but I can fix it.”

Cory lifted an eyebrow without looking at him but nodded and dropped spoons into both mugs. “Grab the half-and-half from the fridge, would you?”

Mikey did, coming back to stand next to Cory, who pushed a little rack filled with multicolored sweetener packets toward him. “Sugar, pink stuff, blue stuff, whatever you like,” he said. Mikey handed him the half-and-half and pulled out four sugars. He noticed a single pink packet lying torn open on the counter, but Cory didn’t skimp on the cream.

Coffee ready, Cory took Mikey by the hand and led him into the living room, where he sat down on one end of the overstuffed sofa and pulled Mikey down to join him. “I feel like a cuddle,” he said as he wrapped one arm around Mikey and drew him close. “We can do the foot massage in a bit.”

It took a few minutes for Mikey to relax, but the gentle touch of Cory’s hand rubbing along his arm did the trick. They sat quietly, sipping their coffee, the room silent except for the soft sound of the air conditioner running.

Then a loud snort came from the bedroom, and the two of them froze for a moment, then dissolved into laughter.

“Well,” Cory managed between giggles, “I guess maybe Mr. Black may be planning to join us soon. Good thing I made a full pot of coffee.”

Mikey took a long sip of his and then leaned forward to put it on the coffee table. “Let me take care of your feet, then,” he said. “Besides, if I sit like this much longer, I might just fall right back to sleep.”

“Nothing wrong with a Sunday nap, but I won’t turn you down.” Cory shifted on the sofa, putting his back to the arm, and stretched out his legs. Mikey moved until he could put Cory’s feet in his lap, and he picked up one and started to rub.

“Ooooooh.” Mikey glanced up to see Cory had dropped his head back. “That feels so fucking good, you have no idea.”

Mikey smiled and kept rubbing, pressing his thumbs into the arch, digging in deep. He was no expert—by all rights Jimmy should be the one doing this—but he’d done this for Kitty a few times after her stage performances in college. He knew enough to keep the pressure firm so it wouldn’t tickle and that the arch and ball of the foot would probably be the most sore. Especially considering the heels Cory had worn the night before.

“Baby, maybe we should send you to school, and you can open up a room right next to Jimmy’s.”

Mikey grinned. “I was just thinking he should be the one doing this.” He worked each of Cory’s toes gently back and forth. “But the basics are pretty, well, basic. I can handle that much.”

“You’re doing amazing.” Cory swallowed more coffee and then set his mug aside too. “God. You might put me back to sleep with that.”

“Nothing wrong with a Sunday nap,” Mikey said, parroting Cory’s words. He moved on to the other foot, giving it the same treatment.

A loud thump from down the hall set them off giggling again, and a few moments later, water ran in the bathroom.

“Sounds like Grumpy Bear’s gonna come join us.” Cory shifted his free leg. “Maybe once he’s got some caffeine in him, he’ll make breakfast. He makes a mean omelet. I could never manage it. I always end up with a scrambled mess. Tasty, but messy.”

Right on cue Mikey’s stomach growled, and there went the giggles again. They were still laughing when a throat cleared behind them.

“Gettin’ the party started without me?” Jimmy’s voice was rough and raw from sleep, and it sent shivers down Mikey’s spine. From the way Cory flushed, he didn’t think he was alone in that.

“Just waiting for your lazy ass to get out of bed,” Cory shot back. “Coffee’s on. Grab a cup and come join the party.”

Jimmy made a low noise in his throat and disappeared into the kitchen. Under Mikey’s hands Cory wiggled his toes.

“Don’t let him stop you, honey.”

Mikey went back to work, running his hands up to rub around Cory’s ankles and up to his calves, then back down to his toes. Mikey curled his own toes into the plush carpet as he worked, imagining what it would feel like to have Cory or Jimmy doing this to him. Maybe a full-body massage from Jimmy? Oh man, that would be awesome.

Jimmy appeared then carrying his coffee mug, which he set down on the coffee table with the others before flopping down next to Mikey and leaning over to rest his head on Mikey’s shoulder. “Too early,” he muttered.

“It’s after ten, lazybones,” Cory shot back. He nudged Mikey’s thigh with his toes. “Jimmy is not a morning person,” he confided, as if that point hadn’t already been made abundantly clear.

Jimmy’s hand crept onto Mikey’s other thigh. High up on Mikey’s thigh. “Only one reason to be up so early,” Jimmy muttered.

“Leave the boy alone and drink your coffee.” Cory stretched his leg out to poke Jimmy’s hand, pushing it away. “He had kind of a big night last night.”

“Kind of? I’ll have you know it’s a
very
big thing.” Jimmy gave them a lopsided grin, but he also pulled his hand away and reached for his coffee instead. He took a long sip, gave a contented sigh, and cradled the mug against his chest. “So,” he said. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

Mikey groaned. “I should really get some homework done.” He stopped massaging and just let his hands rest on Cory’s feet. “I have a quiz due in art history and a drawing to finish for later in the week.” He shook his head. “Glad I just took two classes this summer. It’s more work than I thought it would be.”

“Life’s kinda like that.” Cory pulled his feet free and sat up. “I don’t want to sound like I’m throwing you out, but we best get some food in you and send you off to get your work done.”

Mikey sighed. “Yeah, I know.” He nudged Jimmy with his shoulder. “Cory said something about omelets for breakfast?”

Jimmy let out a put-upon sigh. “Well, I guess I could muster up the gumption.” He took a sip of his coffee. “You two handle the plates and make some toast, and keep the coffee coming.”

He jumped up from the sofa with a hell of a lot more energy than he sounded like he had and held out a hand for Mikey. “C’mon, boy, time for some brain food.”

Mikey put his hand in Jimmy’s and let him lead the way.

T
HANK
G
OD
this is open book.

Mikey breezed through his art history quiz on the school’s virtual classroom system, though he knew he wouldn’t have done half as well had it been given in class. He’d need to review this section again before the midterm and probably again before the final, since both of those would be given during class.

But it was done now, and Mikey could take a breather before getting back to work on the drawing that had been giving him fits since the week before.

He was in the kitchen pouring a glass of ginger ale—Riley and Evan had been out when Jimmy dropped him off on his way back to the resort—when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out to check the screen, surprised to see the call was from Charles Day.
On a Sunday?
he thought, but he answered.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Mikey, it’s Charles Day. Sorry to bother you on a Sunday.”

Mikey put the ginger ale back in the refrigerator and shut the door. “No bother. I’m surprised to hear from you on the weekend, though.”

Mr. Day chuckled. “Well, despite the usual operating hours of our nation’s courthouses, the legal system doesn’t always run on a Monday-to-Friday schedule. I got a call from one of my contacts in Florida this morning, and he confirmed something you and I had discussed.”

Mikey had settled at the kitchen table with his glass by then. “What’s that?”

“Rhonda Donaldson worked at your father’s church. Only briefly, as a temporary office assistant through a local agency. But the dates align with the timing of the events described in the lawsuit. Obviously I can’t reach your father today to ask him about it, but—”

“But it’s Sunday.” Mikey nodded, mind whirling. “And officially he’s off on Mondays. I mean, he works, but it’s all internal stuff. He doesn’t take appointments or calls or anything. Or at least he didn’t.” Mikey couldn’t really say if that might have changed, but it had been his father’s practice for years.

“Understood. I could probably get him to talk to me, though.”

True, but…. “I can call him,” Mikey said. “I think he’d probably take a call from me, and I could tell him he needs to take your call.”

There was a pause. “If you think that’s a good idea,” Mr. Day replied.

“Yeah.” Mikey’s mind had tossed up another idea, but he needed to think about that before he told anyone. “I’ll do that and then call and let you know. Just… wait until you hear from me before you call him, I guess?”

“I’ll wait, but if I don’t hear anything by COB tomorrow, I’ll call him myself on Tuesday.”

“Okay.” Mikey stood and headed down the hall, mind whirling. “I’ll let you know.”

“All right, then. Talk to you soon.”

Mr. Day ended the call, but Mikey was in his room by then, booting up his laptop. He had lots of planning to do and not a lot of time to do it.

B
Y
TIME
the mostly empty MARTA train got to the end of the line, Mikey had shed his hoodie, tying it around his waist instead. Even at o’dark thirty, the July heat pressed in close, making it hard to breathe.

Harder than it was already.

Mikey stood when the train stopped, only distantly hearing the cheerful automated voice as she announced their arrival at the airport. The doors whooshed open, and Mikey followed the handful of other passengers out and down the stairs to the exit gates.

Mikey knew he’d been sheltered, knew he was naïve—about a lot of things—but he wasn’t stupid. It only took him two hours on his laptop the night before to get his plans together. Riley and Evan had been off at another of the fund-raisers given by one of the Yeats family charities, and they didn’t get back until late. By the time they woke up, Mikey would be halfway to his destination.

After swiping his card to exit the station into the terminal, Mikey turned left like the airport map he’d studied had said to do. He went out through the automatic doors and took a right from there to walk past a big section of baggage carousels, all sitting dormant, waiting patiently for the earliest flights to arrive. Beyond, Mikey could see more activity, and when he got to the area with the airline logos on walls behind counters, he searched until he found the one he wanted.

He hesitated just outside the counter area, though. His research had told him where to find the airline, and he had the confirmation number on his phone for the ticket he’d bought, but he needed a boarding pass, and he didn’t know where to get that. He eyed the computer kiosks and was just about to give those a try when a voice made him nearly jump out of his skin.

“May I help you, sir?”

Mikey whirled to face the woman dressed in the airline’s bright colors. Sweat popped out all over his body, and it had nothing to do with the air temperature.

“Jesus,” he finally managed. “You scared the shit out of me!” Too late he remembered himself. “Oh crap. I’m sorry. I just—”

The woman laughed. “I know. It’s crazy early. I just wasn’t sure if you were lost or low on caffeine.” She grinned. “Maybe both?”

Mikey relaxed a tiny bit. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Um, I have a ticket on the seven-thirty flight to Orlando, but I need to get a boarding pass?”

“You can use a kiosk,” the woman said, “but things are so quiet this early, let’s go over here.” The woman led him a few feet over to a roped-off lane. “Just go right up to the counter here, and the agent will be happy to assist you.”

Mikey almost went directly up but remembered his manners at the last second and turned back to the helpful lady. “Thank you so much!”

“You’re very welcome,” she replied. “Have a nice flight!”