Chapter Nine

HEMMED IN. TL was on one side of him and Straight on the other as they waited for a table. Mick should be enjoying his first time in this nice restaurant, but he just felt weird. Kind of sick.

The little hostess came up to Straight. “We have a table on the deck as you requested, sir.” She led them to the left and onto the covered deck that looked out over the sidewalk and the Pacific Coast Highway. It was a little noisy, but so was the inside. The place was packed, and voices and music bounced off the walls.

She stopped at a corner table with four chairs. Mick took a chair with his back to the wall, and TL and Ben sat across from him. The hostess smiled. “Jimmy will be your waiter. He’ll be right with you.”

The waiter showed up before they could even get their jackets off. The outside heaters did their job. He ordered a mineral water, and Straight and TL got beers. They looked at the menu for a while. Man, pricey.

Straight reached out and touched his hand. “I recommend the halibut sandwich if you like fish. It’s one of their most popular dishes.”

“Oh, okay.”

“That’s what I’m going to have.”

When they all three set their menus down, the waiter showed back up with their drinks. They all ordered the sandwich.

When the waiter left, Straight smiled. “The fish is good, but the sauce is the best. You’ll love it.” He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his belly. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said to TL the other day, Mick.”

Oh hell. This was not what he wanted to be doing. But what did he want? Breathe out. Not going there.

Straight looked real serious. “I finally got that what you were telling TL is that our society is so laid-back on the subject of sin, it’s no big deal anymore. People do these awful things and barely remember that they’re defying righteousness in their actions.”

TL leaned forward. “Okay, I get that. Sorry I didn’t understand, Mick.”

He stared in his mineral water. No answers there.

“Schoolboys are led astray and never know that they’re damned until it’s too late.”

Mick glanced up. Straight was on a roll. He didn’t need any agreement.

Straight leaned forward and lowered his voice. “And this is the very thing your father preaches about. We have to rip out the tempters sent by the devil to lead good people astray. The ones who make boys think it’s ‘no big deal.’ That’s the very reason I came to this hellhole of a town. If righteous men only associate with the righteous, how will we rid the world of the sinmongers?”

TL stared at Straight. “Wow, man. I never thought of that.”

Straight smiled. “But Mick thought of it, didn’t you, son? I know now that’s why his father sent him here. To bring truth.”

The waiter and an assistant arrived with their plates. The food looked like garbage. Smelled like garbage. The world reeked of garbage.

TL beamed. “Wow, this looks so good.”

Mick stared at the sandwich.

Straight gestured with the fat piece of fish between two buns and loaded with tomato and onion. “Eat up, Mick. You’re a growing boy.”

He picked up the sandwich in its paper holder. Whatever the sauce was smelled sweet and spicy, but the fish scent crept into his head and zipped around like the guppies in a bowl he’d had when he was six. They’d all died. He bit into the sandwich. Damn. Dead guppies. He chewed twice, three times, then grabbed the mineral water to wash it down. Straight stared at him like he’d swallowed a communion wafer. “Uh, it’s great. Excuse me. I need to go to the men’s room.”

Straight frowned. “Don’t let it get cold.”

Mick nodded. “Nature calls.” He got up and hurried across the deck to the inside of the restaurant. What in hell was he doing here eating food provided by that person?

A waiter walked by. Mick flagged him. “Where’s the men’s room?”

The guy pointed toward the back of the restaurant. “Keep going. You’ll see it after the kitchen on the right.”

“Thanks.” He powered down the aisle between the bar and the booths. What was he going to do? God, nauseated. He dodged two women as they left a booth with their guys and walked a few more steps. What the hell?

The golden hair he’d looked for all day gleamed in a booth at the back of the row across from the door to the kitchen. The little painter dude was there, and the beautiful firefighter, Hunter, and… the black-haired fag who’d come to the ball with Jerry. Right there, sitting beside the man who had said he wanted to fuck Mick again. The guy who had said it was no big deal for a straight man to assfuck a homo. There he was, back with the pretty boy and not even remembering Mick was alive. Oh God, what had he done?

Mick grabbed his stomach. Sick. Going to be sick.

He raced past the booth with the four men.

“Mick!” Jerry’s voice. No. He ran to the hall and saw the men’s room door just as a guy walked out of it. Mick nodded and tried not to look desperate. The guy rounded him, and Mick stepped through the half-open door. The room had a toilet stall, a urinal, and a sink. Good, he could lock the door. He pulled the handle and—the door ripped out of his hands. Jerry stood in the doorway, took one look at Mick, stepped inside, and locked the door behind him. He faced Mick with his back to the door. “What are you doing here?”

“Me? Me? I can go anywhere I want, asshole.”

Jerry shook his golden head. How could the guy be so beautiful all the time? “I’m sorry. That came out wrong, man. I just meant—oh hell, me being with Andres isn’t what it looks like.”

“Oh. What is it?”

“He was modeling for Rodney, and they all invited me to dinner since I’ve been in a funk.”

Mick couldn’t keep still. He paced three steps to the sink and turned. “And you’ll fuck him later to get you out of your funk?”

“No, dammit. I haven’t been with anyone but you.”

Mick was breathing so hard he should have been on the track. “But—” Breathe. “You lied—” Breathe. “To me.”

“I never.”

Mick poked a finger toward Jerry. “You told me ‘No big deal. Lots of guys fuck other guys,’ when you knew all along that only gay guys fuck other guys. You knew it.”

“Straight guys do too sometimes.” But he looked down when he said it. Even Mick knew that meant a lie.

“You tried to make me gay.”

Jerry looked up and frowned. “Nobody can make anyone gay. You either are or you aren’t, man. To quote Lady Gaga, you’re born this way. And I’m not the one who came over asking to get fucked, remember?”

All his insides quivered. “Are you saying I’m gay?”

Jerry breathed out real hard. “Yeah, probably.”

“Probably?”

“Almost certainly.”

“I can’t be.”

“Almost every guy who ever realized he was gay said that at least once.”

“No. No.” If he screamed, would they call the cops? “Not happening. Going to go back to Norco. Get out of that fucking fire station. I’ll marry Jezebel.”

“And live happily ever after?” Jerry wiped his eyes. “Don’t do it, Mick. I know this is harder for you than for most guys, but you’ve kidded yourself long enough. You deserve to be happy.”

Kidded himself? Holy God, what was happening? “Happy? With you?”

“I like you, Mick. A lot, actually. But if you can’t be with me, be with someone who’ll let you be who you are.”

Who I am? Who am I?

A fist beat on the bathroom door. “Hey, did somebody die in there?”

Die? Yes, he died. Everything died. He grabbed the door handle and pushed, but it didn’t open.

Jerry nodded toward the door. “It’s locked.”

Mick stared at it. Locked. Then he turned the latch and ran out the door. Behind him he heard Jerry say, “Sorry. We were talking.”

Mick bumbled his way down the crowded aisle and made it onto the porch.

Straight looked up. “Mick, your sandwich is cold.”

“Sorry. Sick. Got sick.”

TL peered at him. “Yeah. You don’t look so good. Maybe it’s the same thing you got at the dance. Like a virus or something.”

He nodded. “Gotta go.” He grabbed his jacket from the chair. “Sorry. Really sick. Appreciate it.”

He ran off the porch, out the front door of the restaurant, and toward home. The sidewalk was a tightrope, narrow and terrifying, between two choices so god-awful he couldn’t stand to think about them. He was balancing, but he had very big feet.

MICK’S SCARED shitless. Jerry watched Mick practically mow down a dozen people on his forward rush to the exit. He disappeared on the deck for a couple of minutes, then went plowing out the front door. Who would Jerry find if he looked on that deck? Man, he had a bad feeling.

He sighed and walked back to the table.

Rod had a big crease between his arched eyebrows. “What in hell was that all about?”

Jerry frowned. “The guy doesn’t want to admit he’s gay.”

Andres looked up from his cell phone. “Been there.”

Hunter nodded. “Done that.”

Jerry sipped the last of his warm beer. “I tried to tell him it would get better if he could just face it, but I think his actual life is in danger if he comes out, man.”

Hunter’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Yeah. From what he’s said about his preacher father, the guy ain’t exactly about God is love.”

Hunter leaned in. “What can we do?”

What a great man. Mick had insulted Hunter and his family beyond anybody forgiving, but here Hunter was, wanting to help. “I don’t know, man.” He shook his head and kind of shook something loose, because his face got wet.

Rod leaned over and put a warm hand on his arm. “I’ve never seen you cry.”

“I don’t much. I learned to man up real young. But I just feel so bad for him. I got a lot of crap in life, but, man, he wins.” He wiped a sleeve across his face. “Sorry.”

Hunter blew out a breath. “I never thought I’d ever feel sorry for that guy, but I think you need to help him, Jerry.”

“Me? Hell, I’m the last person he wants to see. Besides, he’s got real problems. I haven’t got the brains to deal with stuff like that.”

Andres had been quiet, but he leaned into Jerry. “You’re probably the only person he wants to see, guapo. You’ve already been through everything he’s experiencing.”

“Yeah, but I was twelve or thirteen. He’s twenty-four.”

Rod tapped the table. “Still, your parents hated you being gay as much as his.”

Jerry gave a little laugh. “They just wrote me out of their businesses. They didn’t shoot me.” His mouth was dry, so he drank a couple of swallows of water. “There are some bad guys at the firehouse, man. Worse than when you were there, Hunter. This new guy, Straight. He’s got evil vibes, you know. I hate to see Mick mixed up with them. Lethal, man. Lethal.” He stared toward the restaurant’s deck.