Poison Heart: Gay Romance E-Book

Trina Solet

• Herausgeber: Trina Solet
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

Is there anything Vince and Cal won't do for each other?
The two of them grew up together, doing crazy, reckless things and fell deeply in love. They were poor but happy until Cal made a big mistake and ended up in jail. He did it for Vince. To get him out, Vince is willing to do anything.
Roland Granger has the power and influence to make Cal a free man. Even if Cal never forgives him, Vince is willing to pay the price for his help.
Now he has to make sure that Cal accepts this unwanted help. And while Vince is trying to set things right in his own life, can he reunite Roland with a self-destructive young man who loves him?

Leseprobe

Poison Heart: Gay Romance

By Trina Solet

Copyright © 2014 by Trina Solet

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, locales or actual events is entirely coincidental.

All sexual activity takes place between persons eighteen years of age or older.

This novel contains material intended for mature readers.

Cover image is only for illustrative purposes. Any person depicted is a model.

Poison Heart

Gay Romance

Trina Solet

Part I

Fall

Chapter 1

Vince was glad that his grandmother could have one of the last pleasant days of autumn for her funeral. The treetops were still vibrant with yellow and orange leaves. The air was cooling off, but the sun was out long enough to shine down on her modest casket.

At nineteen, Vince stood tall but didn't fill out the borrowed suit he wore. His muscles were defined but not bulging, though he couldn't quite feel their power at the moment. All his strength seemed to be draining into the ground under his feet. The few other mourners were gone now. Only Vince remained to say his last goodbye. He stood with his hazel eyes closed, smelling the freshly dug earth that now cradled his beloved grandmother. If Cal was standing next to him, he would take his hand or put an arm around his shoulders. Vince willed himself to feel the pressure of that familiar hand and the strong arms encircling him. He pictured Cal's dark eyes looking into his, giving him the love and support he needed. When he visited him, Vince would tell him, "I wasn't alone. You were there with me. You comforted me."

Vince opened his eyes to rows of old graves and one new one. Today there was no warm hand or a tight embrace for Vince, only a wind that chilled him. It was almost as if the sun had come out only to shine for Vince's grandmother one last time, and it was now giving way to the coming season. Days were getting colder as the world was draining of color. It was unthinkable that Cal would be spending the coming winter in prison. Cal's place was next to Vince. They lived one life. It was that way since they met. The two of them had grown to manhood together. With the passing of years, they saw each other mature and get taller, stronger, more masculine. Each change primed their desire and drew them closer together. Going from inseparable to intertwined, they were one. Even now as walls, bars and men with guns separated them, they were one. They were together only in their hearts though. They couldn't touch or love one another the way they used to. All because Cal had seen a golden opportunity that he couldn't pass up.

Because of that one mistake, Vince now stood alone in a graveyard as the clouds covered the sun. Without the sun to warm it, the air felt heavy with cold and damp. It was really the day that was weighing on Vince. The last of his family was gone, and Vince couldn't even throw himself into Cal's arms for comfort.

His last goodbye said, Vince was on his way to Burghers Penitentiary. Even if he wouldn't be allowed to feel Cal's steely arms around him or even touch his hand, Vince had to see him. First he got on the bus then walked the rest of the way. He didn't want to stand and wait for the second bus that would take him to Burghers, where Cal was being held until his trial.

As he walked toward the prison along the side of a two-lane road, Vince still wore his funeral suit. The suit was borrowed. Millie, his grandmother's friend, had picked it out for him. It had belonged to Millie's late son. It was old, and it smelled funny and didn't fit right. At a funeral or at a prison, that didn't matter.

Today was the first time Vince had ever worn a suit. He hadn't worn one to his grandfather's funeral. That old man didn't deserve it, but his grandmother did. Vince stood by her grave not just as her grandson but as the representative of their whole family. They were all gone except for Vince. He said goodbye to her for all of them.

The road next to Vince only led to Burghers so not many cars passed him. To go from the cemetery to the prison was to travel from death to fear. His grandmother's resting place was quiet. Crows could be heard in the distance, but they were like the wind. They couldn't disturb that place of final rest. The branches were rustling with dry leaves ready to drop off and leave them bare. The cemetery was a place of endless sleep, forgetting, and letting go of pain.

Burghers stood in contrast to it. Where the cemetery had been cool and empty, the prison was a furnace overheating with everything the dead were glad to leave behind. To come within these walls was a dreadful, sad experience for Vince, but whatever he felt wasn't even a taste of what it was like for Cal. The indignities briefly suffered by Vince were Cal's daily existence. The walls, the bars, the locks, the guards, the men with sullen faces and mean eyes, they made up Cal's world. If he was convicted, it would be his world for a long time.

Coming together in the prison visiting room were mismatched pairs of prisoners and their visitors. Vince could see forced smiles, worried eyes and then he saw Cal. It took every last shred of his self-control not to call his name and pour out his heart to him. Forcing himself to hold back everything he felt, Vince gave Cal a small smile, not forced, but weak like a light that flickers before it dies. Vince saw that Cal had to exert incredible self-control to maintain a cold and tough demeanor.

The glass was between them, cutting them off from one another. They could only hear each other through the phone. Sitting across from Cal, Vince drank in the sight of his dark eyes filled with compassion.

"I wish I could have been there," Cal said with regret. His voice was low but a welcome and soothing sound to Vince.

"I know," Vince told him. He could see how much Cal wanted to reach out to him and help him through his grief.

"She's at peace." Vince wasn't just saying that. His grandmother had died in her sleep, just drifted away after a difficult life and illness. Vince didn't need to worry about her any more. Now his whole existence was consumed with only one goal. He had to get Cal out of prison no matter what it took. He had to be with him again.

***

When Vince met him five years ago, Cal had been a watchful, tightlipped boy, dark-eyed and beautiful. He wasn't as tall as Vince, but he was more powerfully built. He acted tough because he thought he had to, but inside, he and Vince were the same, and they knew it as soon as they met.

Vince felt like his life started the moment he met Cal. That very second, he was born and he became who he was. They were fourteen, and Vince watched Cal stacking plastic crates so he could climb into a dumpster behind All Electronics For Less. If Vince was telling his life's story, he would start on that day in early summer. The buildings wrapped the alley in cool shadow. Behind Vince, the noise of traffic couldn't drown out the sounds of birds chirping in the trees that sprang out of the sidewalk. At first Vince was curious and wanted to know what the boy was doing. Then he just wanted to watch him. When Cal turned around and noticed him, his fate was sealed, both their fates.

First Cal made fun of him for the way he sneezed and for having uncool clothes. Vince couldn't see that his clothes were all that different from Cal's. Vince had on a striped blue and white shirt and khaki pants. Cal wore jeans and a red t-shirt with a black motorcycle on the front.

He had finished stacking the crates and tried to climb them. When the crates weren't strong enough to take his weight, Vince jumped forward and made sure he didn't fall. Vince saw a flicker of a smile on Cal's face as he leaned heavily on his shoulders. Before Cal turned away, Vince was sure that he blushed. Maybe both of them did.

"I'm Cal," he said without turning to face him. Vince would learn his full name later – Calvin Duval.

Vince gave his full name right away, like he wanted Cal to be able to find him.

"Vincent Blaga."

"Vince, give me a boost," Cal said.

Vince laced his fingers together, and Cal stepped up on them then on his shoulders and into the dumpster.

"How come you're doing this?" Vince asked him as he watched him lower some things from inside the dumpster before he climbed back out.

"Maybe I just have no pride."

"Don't believe that," Vince said. He could see that he did have pride. In fact his eyes dared anyone to disrespect him if they were willing to pay dearly. He was a boy who had plenty of pride and would fight to defend it. Vince already admired him for that and for other reasons.

Admitting that Vince was right about him, Cal told him why he was dumpster-diving for broken down electronics. He needed to make money.

"Last winter I asked my old man for some cash to buy new sneakers. The sole peeled off from one of my old ones. I glued it back, but it wouldn't stay. My old man told me, 'I work for my money. If you want to beg, do it on the street. I ain't giving nothing away.'" Cal shrugged. "I had to get new shoes so I figured out how to make a little money. That's all."

Cal acted like it was no big deal, but Vince knew better. Even though Vince didn't have a father, he was sure that they weren't all like that. He did wonder if a father like Cal's was still better than no father at all.

Seeing that he was lost in thought, Cal clapped him on the back.

"Wake up and help me carry this stuff," he said.

Vince was glad to do it. He would have gone along even if he hadn't been asked. For some reason that was still new and unknown to him, he never wanted to leave this boy's side.

***

Sitting across from Cal in the prison visiting room was the same Vince he had always known, but now his eyes were worn with worry for Cal and grief over his grandmother's death. Cal tightened his fists in frustration. Vince needed him. He was only inches away, so close but hopelessly out of reach. Instead of being a comfort to him, Cal was only another source of pain. Even if Vince didn't blame him, Cal would never forgive himself for that. From the moment he met Vince, Cal knew they were meant to be together, at first just as friends and then as so much more. But he got greedy. Along the way, Cal forgot that the most important thing was to never let anything separate him from Vince. He had known it instinctively as a boy. It was written in Vince's eyes. Cal looked into them and read the words "Keep me by your side forever."

For Cal, the day they met was just another day in another dirty alley with a big dumpster. Places like that were a magnet for trouble so Cal kept his ears open for sounds that would warn him that someone was coming. He heard footsteps. When Cal turned, he saw a boy his own age looking at him with an open expression on his face and no hesitation in his eyes. A smile lingered just out of sight, held back and waiting for something to bring it out. At first, the boy stood out of reach but approached as soon as Cal called him over. The boy was taller than him and too good looking for a guy. Cal could tell this even though the boy had a funny look on his face. The boy sneezed and Cal laughed.

"You laugh at people when they sneeze?"

"You looked goofy, man. And who dressed you, your mom?" Cal said to him.

"My grandma," the boy said, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

"Don't tell people that. At least have the sense to be ashamed of the way you look," Cal told him.

The boy in the striped shirt finally gave him that smile he had been holding back.

Though Cal made fun of him, there was nothing wrong with the way he looked. There was even too much right about it. Mellow, teasing, hazel eyes looked at Cal, reached right through to his heart. His light brown hair was just asking to be touched and tugged. Broad shoulders made the striped shirt hang from his slim body. But that body was still growing, getting stronger and would soon be irresistible to Cal.

"You sure you want to go in there?" he said as he watched Cal test out the stack of crates. They weren't stable, but if he was quick they might hold him up.

"It's not like it's full of dirty diapers," Cal told him. The dumpster wasn't as bad as some, but there was something in every dumpster to make it stink.

When the crates collapsed under him, Vince caught him. It was a strange moment, the first time someone's touch had melted Cal's bones. With that feeling coursing through him, Cal had to look away from those pretty eyes and that smiling mouth. Something was happening to him, and all he could think to do was climb into a dumpster. He did it with Vince's help, stepping first on his hands then on his shoulders.

As Cal looked over what he found and threw some of it back, he told Vince about the value in it.

"There's this old guy, Peterson, who has the basement apartment in my building. He does repairs. His place is full of broken down junk people throw out. If he gets something working again, he sells it. When I bring him stuff he thinks he can use, he gives me a couple of bucks," Cal explained.

To make money, Cal had also mowed lawns in his Aunt Ginny's neighborhood in the summer, raked leaves and cleaned out gutters in the fall. He searched out every opportunity. Making what little money he could was becoming almost an obsession.

On that day, money was shoved into second place. Cal's first priority was to keep the boy he had just met from walking away. Though Cal could have managed by himself, he asked Vince to help him carry the stuff he had scavenged. Vince smiled and made Cal feel funny again. He couldn't remember anyone ever making him feel so strong and weak, focused and mixed up at the same time.

There was a sign by the steps leading down to Mr. Peterson's basement apartment that just said "Repairs". His door always stood open during the day. Old man Peterson sat at a workbench wearing glasses that had magnifying lenses built into them. A regular set of eyeglasses were perched on his head. He switched to those and nodded as he looked through what Cal had brought him. He paid Cal and told him what kinds of things to keep an eye out for.

Outside, Cal offered Vince some of the little money that he got from the old man, but he refused. That was Vince. He never wanted to take anything away from Cal. That's why Cal wanted to give him everything. That's why he ended up in prison.

Chapter 2

Vince felt no relief on leaving Burghers. No matter how much distance he put between him and that place, he wouldn't be free of it as long as Cal was in there. Visiting days weren't enough. Vince had never been away from Cal for so long. Their jobs after high school kept them apart during the day, but the rest of the time they stuck close to each other. Even when Vince was busy working and taking care of his grandmother as her health declined, he and Cal made sure to see each other every day. That's how Vince knew that something bad happened on the day Cal was arrested.

Vince remembered the terrible moment when he first found out. He went looking for Cal when he didn't show up at their usual place. There was no call or text from Cal, and he didn't answer his phone. Vince felt his blood run cold as time passed with no word.

Standing on the doorstep of the house where Cal lived with his aunt, Ginny, Vince was afraid to knock. Then as soon as he walked in, Cal's aunt started screaming at him. She was crying, accusing Vince of getting Cal mixed up in something, telling him Cal was on the news.

Even as she turned on the TV and he watched the news, Vince couldn't believe it. Feeling numb, he stood there and said, "It's a mistake."

"That's a mistake big enough to swallow a man whole," Ginny said while she hugged herself and tried not to cry again.

Vince was dazed. He couldn't make sense of it. He put the pieces together one by one, some from the news, some from Ginny. But he was still missing one piece of the puzzle. Why would Cal do this?

Though Cal chased after every opportunity to earn money, he never went for the easy way to get it. After digging through dumpsters for a few bucks profit, why would he be stealing cars now that he had a real job?

When he looked at Cal, Vince could always see the scars of his mother leaving, then his sister, and his father only tolerating him. Both he and Cal had lost people, been abandoned, mistreated, or neglected, but once they found each other, Vince thought that they were complete again. But if that was true, why did Cal risk everything?

The first time he visited Cal, Vince found out the truth. Maybe Vince suspected the answer all along, but he could only believe it once he was face to face with Cal in that terrible place. The visiting room was stark with a line of booths, chairs and guards standing by. The air had a disinfected, stale quality but with a chilling undertone like fear had concentrated there and absorbed into every surface. Speaking to Cal through a phone in his hand, seeing him through glass, Vince was feeling the first pain of their separation.

"Why did you need the money so bad?" Vince asked while fear knotted up his belly, adding to the atmosphere already thick with it.

"Because it's money. What other reason do I need?" Cal said. "You know I've always been money-hungry."

The lie was so transparent, Vince could see right through it to the truth.

"You're lying," Vince told him. "And that can mean only one thing. If you're lying to me..."

"Look, Vince..." Cal said trying to interrupt his train of thought, but it was too late.

"You wanted the money for me," Vince said, feeling like he might cry. The only reason Cal would lie to him was to protect him, and the only reason he would take that kind of risk was for Vince. Cal was sitting in jail because of him. Vince reached out and touched the glass with his fingertips. Cal didn't dare to do the same. That reminded Vince that he had to be careful not to out him. He withdrew his hand quickly for Cal's sake.

***

From the moment he was arrested, Cal tried to stay strong, but his worst moment was when Vince first came to see him in jail. With Vince on the other side of that glass, Cal realized it would be a very long time before he would be able to touch him again. When Vince touched the glass, it was painful not to be able to reach out his hand. The worst of it was the pain in Vince's beautiful eyes. Cal had put that pain there. Seeing Vince in a place like that was all wrong. Cal had made a bad choice. Maybe he belonged there, but Vince didn't. He didn't deserve the burden of knowing why Cal had turned himself into a criminal.

Trying to keep the truth from Vince had been hopeless from the start. Cal knew that he couldn't fool him, but he had to try. He didn't want to tell him it was for him, but of course it was for Vince. Cal would do anything for him. That didn't make it Vince's fault. But as Vince realized the truth, Cal could see him taking on the guilt, making Cal's crime his own.

Vince didn't know anything about the plans Cal was making for him. After graduating high school, Vince and Cal both got jobs. Vince was busy taking care of his sick grandmother too, but they spent time together whenever they could. He and Vince had so little, but they had each other. Then Cal got it into his head that Vince should go to college, and that Cal should pay for it by stealing cars for JD Simms and his bunch.

Cal didn't have the skills, but he was learning. The classic Jag in the supermarket parking lot would have been Cal's first solo boost. It wasn't planned. On that day, Cal saw a chance to grab a car the easy way. He saw the keys still in the car, dropped on the driver's seat. The car door was open as some woman walked away from it to find better reception for her phone. Cal jumped at the chance. He got a lucky break, and he took off in her car. Then his good luck turned into bad luck as he heard a kid start to cry behind him. Strapped into a child's car seat was a little boy. Without thinking, Cal drove right back. The woman was screaming. People had gathered. Cal didn't make it out of there before the cops showed up and shoved him to the ground, almost cracking his head open.

After that, the cops weren't too rough with Cal. They mostly just shook their heads at how stupid he was. For the same reason, they didn't push him about who he was working for. What saved him was the way he had tried to steal a car with keys in it and then came back to the scene of the crime. That told the cops that he was dumb as shit and a rank amateur, not one of JD Simms' crew.

At the time of his arrest, Cal was still apprenticing with Eddie Machado. Until he learned the ropes, Cal was just a lookout for Eddie. He was the only one Cal dealt with. They both worked for JD Simms, but to Cal, that was just a name. He didn't know anything about JD Simms' operation or how things worked. That turned out to be a good thing. When Cal was arrested, he didn't know enough to worry anyone except Eddie. Cal was smart enough to keep his mouth shut about what little he knew, but Eddie made himself scarce anyway.

Cal's cut from his work with Eddie didn't come to much. There was supposed to be a lot more when Cal started boosting on his own. Now there wouldn't be any more. The little money he had saved up for Vince had to be used to pay for his defense. It wasn't even close to enough. He still told Vince about it using their code.

***

During his prison visit, Cal had used the codeword for a hiding place they had agreed on.

"I wish I could get a real lawyer but can't pay the piper," Cal had said. That was their code for the first stash spot. Then Cal said, "Expenses keep adding up." He tapped his finger only twice. From that, Vince could tell that Cal had hidden money at the first stash spot and the next two only.

Vince had to wait till nightfall to get to the money. For now, he thought about what he could do to make his grandmother's grave a little nicer. That's why he was in Lawson's Garden Center. It was right near Millie's house, where Vince was still living. Lawson's didn't offer many choices, but it was in the neighborhood. On first look, Vince could tell that the garden center wasn't well stocked or well maintained. Vince was pretty sure that some of the plants still outside were tropical and should be taken indoors. Not that Vince was an expert on plants. He had only helped Millie in her garden a little. It didn't take an expert to judge the sad state of the place. Too many plants were wilting and one or two were well past dead. Some of the sickly plants could still be saved if they were taken care of.

While he was looking for a plant that didn't look half-dead, Vince considered what he needed to do for Cal. Thinking angrily about the money that had landed Cal in jail, Vince absently snapped a twig off a dead plant. He looked up guiltily. Standing behind the register, watching him, was an older man, Vince wanted to say gentleman. He seemed old-fashioned but not stiff. He had white hair and kind, blue eyes. When he looked at Vince, a wry smile tugged at the corner's of his mouth.

"I want something alive that will stay that way," Vince said when the man offered to help him.

The man turned out to be one of the Lawsons. He owned the nursery with his sister. Trying to help Vince, he looked around like it was his first day on the job. Finally, he pointed to a little shrub in a pot.

"That one has been around here forever, and it's still going strong. Five bucks, and it's yours," he offered.

Vince got down for a closer look. The plant was healthy, had a nice shape, and pretty, narrow leaves, turning yellow.

"What kind of plant is it?" he asked, not seeing a label.

"Whatever it says on there," Mr. Lawson told him.

"It doesn't say anything," Vince pointed out.

"A mystery," Mr. Lawson said helplessly.

Vince decided to take it anyway. As he paid, he thought about Cal's money.

"Can I ask you, do lawyers take cash?" Vince asked on an impulse. Mr. Lawson might not know much about plants, but he seemed like someone who knew how things worked in the world.

"Everyone takes cash," Mr. Lawson said as he took the five bucks and change from Vince and tucked it into the register drawer.

It was what Vince wanted to hear, but he was skeptical.

"Without asking where it came from?" Vince said.

"Why do you ask?" Mr. Lawson wondered as he looked at Vince kindly.

"My friend needs a lawyer. Did you hear about that car thief who drove off with that kid in the back then came back and got caught? That's him."

"Oh, my," was all Mr. Lawson said at first. Then he thought about it. "Hmm. I know someone. He'll want your friend's case for the notoriety and for the cash. He is good in his own way, and much better than a public defender." After looking at an old fashioned, little black book, he wrote down the name and phone number for Vince.

"Thank you," Vince said.

"Anything for a customer. Good luck, young man," Mr. Lawson said to Vince as he carried out the potted plant.

That night Vince found himself standing in front of Cal's old apartment building. Only eight floors, the building was dilapidated but solid. On the curb, someone had abandoned a couch with ripped cushions. It served as a perfect accessory to the building. Even darkness couldn't hide its rundown state. That's where Cal used to live with his dad before he moved in with his aunt, Ginny. Vince looked at the ugly, old building fondly. He and Cal had spend too many happy hours there for Vince not to love the sight of it. They could get a lot of sucking and fucking done before Cal's dad got home from work.

Vince went around to the back. Looking up, it was strange to feel so much joy and pain well up inside him at the sight of that dark window on the sixth floor. Other windows had lights on, but not that one. Cal's bedroom came back to Vince with its plain white walls and its scent of Cal's unwashed clothes piling up in the corner. His bed was always unmade. The pillow had no pillowcase. The thin, cheap mattress shifted under their combined weights as they rushed to make love, not just because they didn't have time, but because they couldn't wait to have each other. With pants around their ankles, their bodies moved in a savage rhythm, grunting, sweating, and clutching at each other. Even after coming, they were inexhaustible. They would be going at it again like fucking was something that could never be finished. Inside each other, or sucking each other off, taking and giving, crazy about each other, they could never get enough. How could one small room contain so many memories and so much love? Vince felt like their younger selves were still up there. He could hear them laughing, grunting and coming over and over again. Vince was sure that if he crept up there, he wouldn't see new occupants, but him and Cal, half dressed, holding each other in a narrow, messy bed.

Behind Cal's old apartment building, there was an empty field. Cal's window looked out on it. It didn't seem to belong to anyone. It was used for ballgames and as a dumping ground for every kind of junk. One day, Cal and Vince had been out there, kicking over beer cans and fast food containers. Then Cal noticed something at the edge of the field, behind a clump of bushes. Something was sticking out of the ground. To see what it was, Cal started digging. Vince helped him, but he didn't see what the fuss was about. It was just a disused pipe, broken and half filled with dirt. Most of it was buried. Seeing some value in it, Cal got down on the ground and stuck his arm inside the pipe as far as it would go.

"A raccoon will bite your fingers off," Vince warned him.

Cal stood up, looking happy. He pushed the dirt back into place to cover the pipe again.

"It's broken further in too and there is a space about this big," Cal said and showed him that it was the size of a deck of cards.

"What is it good for?" Vince asked. He could guess that it was for hiding stuff, but it seemed too small.

"It's not big, but we shouldn't put everything in one place anyway. We'll look for more places. Spread our stash around."

"What stash?" Vince asked. They didn't have enough to bother hiding it.

"Our future stash. We'll get as much money as we can so we can live like we want to, the two of us," Cal said. His eyes glowed as he looked at Vince. Cal was making plans for both of them. He was saying they would live their lives together. Vince felt a shiver of excitement go through him.

Now, when he thought back to the way Cal had looked at him, he didn't feel a thrill. He felt a shiver of dread. That day he had seen a seed planted, and today Cal was in jail because Vince had allowed it to grow out of control.

Vince had waited till nightfall to go out there. He used his flashlight sparingly so he wouldn't attract attention. Mostly he went by memory and felt his way around. Once he reached that familiar spot, Vince started digging out the pipe. Then he got down and fished out what was wedged in the hole. It was three or four plastic bags wrapped one over the other with a tight roll of bills inside.

The next day, Vince took the money to Cal's aunt and sent her to the lawyer Mr. Lawson had recommended. He took Cal's case just like Mr. Lawson said he would. The money was enough for now, but it wouldn't last with only two more stash spots to go. After that, the lawyer might bail.

That worried Vince, but hiring a lawyer was only the first thing that needed to be done. The next day, Vince once again found himself back in his old neighborhood, his and Cal's old stomping grounds.

Chapter 3

Vince passed all the familiar sights of his old neighborhood. Too many closed shops lined the streets. The open ones sold cell phones and lottery tickets. A few idle men lingered near liquor stores. It wasn't a bad neighborhood, but you didn't have to walk far to buy either drugs or sex. Down the block was where Vince had lived with his grandparents. These streets were where he and Cal hung out most often. Meeting up here, they would walk uptown to do some scavenging until Cal found better work. Vince had moved away after his grandfather died and his grandmother got sick. Even if he no longer lived there, Vince still thought of the place as his neighborhood. That's because he could still see himself with Cal jaywalking at age sixteen then giving the cab driver the finger just as he gave them one. It was almost a friendly gesture around there. The place was alive with loud insults and unspoken threats. It was poor and rough and sometimes dangerous, but it felt like home.

Vince was headed to the apartment where Sam and Hal lived. They were inseparable because Sam worried if Hal was out of his sight for even a second. Sam wasn't exactly bodyguard material though. His sharply spiked hair did come right to Vince's eye level so you could say he was armed and dangerous.

"You'll put my eye out one day," Vince always told him.

Sam was short and slim but beautifully put together. He had a pale complexion and black hair and eyes. Hal was also thin, but he was taller and his skin was darker. He had brown hair and big, brown eyes with long eyelashes. Where Sam was fierce, Hal was gentle. They lived with Sam's cousin, Rita, and called her the landlady. She liked Hal better than her own cousin because he was quiet and helpful around the house. Hal never let even a spoon sit in the sink, unlike Sam, who was a slob. Plus Hal got Sam to quit smoking pot. Hal had nothing against it other than it might land Sam in jail. So in his own way, Hal was protective of Sam too. Considering where Cal was, Vince could understand the feeling. If he hadn't let Cal out of his sight, he wouldn't be in the pen now.

Vince envied Sam and Hal and not just because they still had each other. Sam and Hal lived just outside Vince and Cal's old neighborhood. Though only ten minutes away, the area had a different vibe, less dangerous. That gave Hal and Sam the freedom to be themselves though not necessarily to go kissing in public. Since other gay and lesbian couples could be seen there from time to time, the two of them didn't stick out so much.

Vince marveled at how a little bit of distance could make so much difference. Walking through his old neighborhood toward their apartment, Vince passed the alley where he and Cal had first met Hal. Vince paused there. It was just as dark as it had been then, but today it was silent.

***

On that day, Vince and Cal were on their way nowhere. They were coming back from Cal's apartment, where they had gone because the coast was clear. They made sure of it first then locked themselves in Cal's room. They were on each other like two ravenous animals. It was a miracle their clothes weren't ripped to shreds. Two hours later, Cal's father had arrived home from work so they got the hell out. They had fooled around for a good, long while, but they would never stop if they didn't have to.

The satisfied and unsatisfied feelings still buzzed through them as they walked. In this neighborhood, they didn't dare touch or even look at each other too long in public. Vince remembered how much he wanted to press Cal against the nearest wall and kiss him again. As they approached an alley, Vince thought about its inviting darkness. They couldn't trust it to conceal them for long. Maybe they could duck in there for just a second, a taste of each other. Vince was dying to get his hands on Cal again, to feel up his ass while they rubbed their cocks together. Just as Vince was ready to drag Cal into that alley, a noise got their attention and banished all thoughts of a quick grope session. It was the sound of pain and violence.

Early evening light still filled the streets, but the alley was dark and dank, just the kind of place where they scavenged. Without revealing themselves, they approached quietly. Crouching, they sneaked along the walls. The sounds they heard resolved themselves. There was kicking, grunting and someone crying out in pain. They could see four figures ahead, plus one on the ground. As Cal and Vince went closer, they gathered a few things. Vince armed himself with a broken off piece of two-by-four and a corner of a brick. Cal had picked up some beer bottles. They clinked together, giving them away. The four figures stopped and turned. That was Vince and Cal's signal to start throwing. Bottles went flying as well as other garbage. Chased by debris coming at their heads, the four attackers made their way through the alley to the other side and vanished.

After making sure they were gone, Cal and Vince came back to the figure writhing on the ground. It was a young guy, slim and dark, bleeding and bruised. They approached him cautiously and talked to him.

"Those guys are gone. You're going to be OK," Vince said to him.

Without looking up, the guy crawled away from them. He reached for something and tried to stand up. When he fell down, Cal and Vince went to help him. He pulled a knife on them, and they drew back. That was what he was reaching for. In his hand was a small, wood-handled paring knife, like something you might use to peel an apple. It obviously hadn't done him much good during the attack. They must have knocked it right out of his hand like it was a toy.

"Which way is it to 2nd Street and May Avenue?" he gasped then turned his head to spit out some blood to the side. He was leaning against the wall. It was all that was holding him up. His hand shook. With him in that condition, Vince and Cal could probably take the knife from him easily, but they didn't want to scare him.

"It's that way," Cal pointed the way to the intersection, which was several blocks away. "But you don't need a knife to ask for directions. Only if you want our wallets," Cal told him. His voice was low and reassuring.

Unable to stay up, the guy slid down the wall. When he tried to get up again, he couldn't.

"We want to help you, but you need to put that knife down," Cal told him kindly but firmly.

He still held the knife up and just stared at them. Wide-eyed, scared, and in pain, he just couldn't bring himself to trust them.

"Who is at 2nd and May? Can we call someone for you?" Vince asked.

"No! He..." The guy suddenly got a pleading look in his eyes as he looked from Vince to Cal. It was like he was seeing them clearly for the first time. "I want to go somewhere else first. I want to get cleaned up," he said to them desperately. Something more important had replaced the fear that consumed him only a moment before. There was someone at 2nd and May who couldn't see him like this. Vince and Cal recognized the need to protect the person you love from your own pain. They had both done the same thing for each other and would again.

"I can take you up to my place," Vince told the guy. "Only my grandmother is there. I can lend you some clothes." His own were ripped and bloody.

"Your dorky clothes? You want him to get beat up again?" Cal said.

"Shut up, Cal," Vince told him. To the guy, he said. "That's Cal. I'm Vince."

"I'm Hal, Halim. Nice to meet you," he said and put the knife down. "I'm sorry to be so much trouble."

Cal and Vince were a little taken aback by how polite he was being all of a sudden. They held him up between them and slowly made their way to Vince's apartment building.

"They took everything I had, and they still wouldn't stop kicking me," Hal told them as they walked. They were supporting him one on each side. "I had the map and directions on my phone, and I memorized them too. But when I started running from those guys, I got turned around. I didn't know where I was. I didn't know the way to Sam's. Then they caught me."

"It's not far. We'll get you there after you get cleaned up," Cal said to him.

Along the way, Hal told them his story. His parents were Muslim and very traditional. They found out he was gay from some stuff they saw on his laptop. They reacted by trying to force him to get married. After a big fight, Hal left his home and family. He had no job and no place to go. Then a friend he had met online sent him an invitation to stay with him and his cousin. That's where Hal was going.

Hearing this, Cal and Vince looked at each other. They were thinking the same thing. Some old pervert was lying in wait for this guy. They didn't say anything though. Bad news can wait, and this guy had had enough of it for one day.

At Vince's, they cleaned him up and made sure he didn't have any serious injuries. They made him rest until he could walk more or less by himself. Eager to meet his online friend, Hal didn't rest for long. He lingered in front of the mirror, worrying about how terrible he looked.

"Your clothes look even worse on him than on you," Cal said to Vince, who shushed him.

"Don't make him feel bad," Vince whispered to him. "He wants to look nice for his old, Internet pervert." The clothes were the least of Hal's problems.

Since he still needed help, and they didn't trust the guy Hal was meeting, they went with him up to his apartment. The guy waiting for Hal wasn't old. Whether he was a pervert was up for debate. Sam opened his apartment door eagerly then stood there stunned. Like Vince and Cal, Sam was around eighteen but short and just as skinny as Hal. His hair was black and spiked dangerously. Sam's black eyes were glued to Hal's big brown ones. As soon as he saw Hal's condition, Sam was ready to go running after the guys who did that to him and make them pay. Poor Hal, he was a mess. One of his eyes was swollen shut. His whole face was one big bruise. He had lost a tooth, but all he said was, "I have others." Nothing seemed to be broken though.

Once he calmed down a little, Sam eyed Cal and Vince suspiciously. He spoke to Hal at the door before he looked them over and invited them inside.

"You're right. They are gay," Sam said to Hal as they went in.

"Keep it down," Vince warned him.

"Oh, I see," Sam nodded knowingly. "Discretion is nine tenths of the law."

They found out that Sam and Hal were in similar situations. Sam had left his mom's place because his stepfather had a problem with him being gay. That's why Sam lived with his cousin, Rita, and she had agreed to let Hal move in with them too. Cal and Vince waited until Rita came home from work so they could meet her.

As soon as she walked in and saw Hal, Rita was ready to go hunt down whoever had done that to him. Then she made Hal lie down and warmed up some canned soup for him. Seeing that Hal was in good hands, Cal and Vince left him there, not expecting to ever go back.

A week later, Hal brought back Vince's clothes washed and neatly folded. He invited him and Cal over for dinner at Rita's. He already had a job and was going to cook a special meal to thank them for saving him. Vince and Cal had never received that kind of dinner invitation before. Vince accepted without consulting Cal first. Of course Cal would be up for it. It was free food.

As they went up to Sam's apartment together, Cal was a little fidgety, like he thought it might be a formal occasion. Rita came home from work just as Vince and Cal arrived. She was happy to see them and announced them to the guys with a loud, "The hotties are here!"

"Yes, we are," Sam told her. "And I see Vince and Cal are here too."

Hal thanked them for coming, in that very polite, soft-spoken way that made them uneasy. When Hal went back to cooking, Rita tried to help him cook.

Sam told her, "If he needs any cans opened, he'll let you know."

Sam and his cousin squabbled a lot. Hal was the peacemaker. Rita treated him like he was her kid brother. And all three of them treated Cal and Vince like they were a couple, asking them questions like "How did you two hook up?" and "How long have you been together?" Being in the company of people who acknowledged their relationship was a new experience, strange and wonderful. That alone was enough to make Rita's apartment special to them. It was a haven, a place where they could be themselves. They had a good time together, and they realized how nice it was to have gay friends and to be accepted for who they were.

***

Vince felt the echo of the good times they shared as he went up to the door of Rita's apartment. Without Cal by his side, he couldn't quite recapture the feeling. As soon as Vince went in, the first thing Sam and Hal wanted to know was how Cal was doing. Vince gave them an update then told them what he needed.

"I heard Jim McCall is back in town. I'm looking for a quick way to get a meeting with him."

During his prison visit, Cal had given Vince another coded message. He told him, "You know, I think I might have left an old coat at the cleaners. Junior has my ticket." Only Vince and maybe one other man would know what Cal meant by that. That man was Jim McCall.

McCall was an intermediary in shady dealings. He was low key and looked more like a bum than anything, but with his connections, he could get people in trouble or out of it. Now and then, he worked for some seriously bad people, but only unofficially. While he knew all the major players, he wasn't one of them. That made him approachable.

Unfortunately, McCall had no fixed residence or known phone number. The only way to get to him was to let it be known in every dive bar and liquor store that you were looking for Jim McCall. Then you had to wait for him to find you when he was good and ready. Vince didn't want to go that route. Cal didn't have that kind of time. He was locked up with no one watching his back.

"I want to corner McCall, not run around and then sit on my hands and wait," Vince explained to Sam and Hal. "McCall owes Cal and me a favor. I'm cashing it in to help Cal."

"What kind of favor did you do for him? Help him bury a body?" Sam asked.

"Just kept him from going to jail. Cops were on his tail, and we helped him get away."

***

Everyone knew Jim McCall. He was a familiar figure with his black beard and his long, black coat worn no matter what the weather was like. Knowing what he could do, people bought him drinks just in case they ever needed a favor from him. Liquor stores just handed him bottles free of charge. McCall guzzled down everything he could get his hands on, but no one had ever seen him drunk. The man could hold his liquor.

When Vince and Cal spotted him that day, he seemed drunk for the first time. As usual, Cal was dumpster diving, and Vince was helping him. They saw McCall turn into the alley, unsteady, holding onto the wall. On closer look, they noticed that he wasn't drunk. He was hurt. His foot was giving way under him at every step. His ankle might have been broken, but he was trying to walk on it anyway.

As he went further into the alley, they heard him hissing, "Shit, shit." He looked back, and Vince and Cal could hear police sirens coming closer.

"That for you?" Cal asked.

"Shit" was all McCall said. He couldn't move fast with his leg like that.

Cal went over to him and slung McCall's arm over his shoulder. With Vince's help, he got McCall on the other side of the dumpster and out of sight.

"What now?" Vince asked.

"You boys..." McCall started to say, but Cal pulled his coat off him and left him speechless. Maybe he thought Cal was going to steal it, but Vince knew what he was doing.

After looking from McCall to Vince, Cal put the coat on himself. He and McCall were closer in height. Vince was too tall as Cal often told him. Cal wedged himself behind the dumpster. Vince guessed he was looking for somewhere to hide McCall. With Vince pushing too, Cal got the dumpster away from the wall. There was a pile of rotting stuff that had fallen there. Cal pulled McCall and had him lie down right in the middle of the worst of it. But he wasn't done. Cal threw more trash on top of him. He picked the worst of it, stuff that turned all their stomachs. McCall said "shit" some more as he was buried in the most foul garbage imaginable.

"Don't complain," Cal told him. "The worse the stink, the less they'll want to dig in there."

After McCall was covered up, they pushed the dumpster sideways across the alley to slow down the cops. When they heard them coming, Cal pulled McCall's coat over his head. He pulled up Vince's t-shirt the same way, and they ran. The cops chased them while McCall stayed huddled under that disgusting pile of rotting garbage. They didn't catch either Cal and Vince, or McCall. It must have been their lucky day and McCall's too.

Later on, when things cooled down, they ran into him again. First thing McCall did was ask about his coat. He was wearing an army jacket for the time being.

"Sold it to the thrift store for five bucks," Cal lied then he told him where it was. "Dropped it off at 1st Rate Cleaners on 4th." Cal handed McCall the ticket, which he had been keeping for the next time they saw him.

As McCall put it in his pocket, he pulled out some bills.

"You boys earned this," he said and tried to give them a fifty each.

Cal acted offended.

"Come on, man, don't be like that," Cal said, shaking his head.

McCall still held out the other fifty for Vince. Since Cal refused, Vince refused too.

"What he says goes for me too," Vince told McCall.

McCall put away the money and gave them one of those smiles hard men give that has no warmth to it. Before he went on his way, he took a good, close look at both of them, like he was memorizing their faces.

Though it hadn't occurred to Vince that they were helping McCall for the money, he wasn't sure why Cal refused. It surprised him even more considering how Cal went after every opportunity to earn some cash.

"His money is no good?" Vince asked as they walked away.

"This way he owes us a favor. A guy like that owing you, that's worth more than a fifty," Cal said.

Cal was right. They didn't know it when they helped him, but they weren't saving McCall from a night in jail. He might have been dead if the cops had grabbed him. The rumor was something had gone very wrong with a deal McCall brokered. Right then, he couldn't afford to get arrested. He knew all the wrong people and had too many secrets to spill. If those very nasty people had any doubts that he would keep his mouth shut, he would have been dead. Staying out of jail meant he got a chance to fix things up and smooth things over. By keeping him from being arrested, Cal and Vince had saved his life.

Now it was time for McCall to return that favor and help Cal.

"You want him to put in a good word with someone with connections on the inside," Sam guessed, and he was right.

"Not just anybody. I want him to talk to his son. Jimmy Jr. is in Burghers too. McCall's son is one of the big guys in there. He can keep Cal safe while he's inside," Vince told him.

"There's a hitch in your plan. Everyone knows Jimmy Jr. and his old man aren't on speaking terms," Sam reminded him. He prided himself on knowing what went on. "When Jimmy Jr. was arrested, he was cursing his old man's name."

"They better get on speaking terms quick. I can't have Cal in there on his own. And I don't have any better favors to call in." McCall was Vince's only shot. Vince didn't know anyone else who could help Cal.

"Maybe Cal wouldn't mind bunking down with a cellie," Sam said. "Those guys get real fit in there. Nothing to do but lift weights and boff each other all day, mm mm mm." Sam hugged himself and rocked back and forth.

"Shut up, Sam," Hal told him. Then he asked Vince, "What can we do?"

"You guys, not much," Vince told them and glared at Sam. "I'm just passing the time, waiting for Rita. She's friendly with McCall's daughter. She will have a way to contact her dad fast. When she gets home, Rita is taking me over to see her."

McCall's daughter, Iris, was only fifteen and worked after school at a discount clothing store where Rita used to work with her. That's where Vince and Rita met up with her. When Rita introduced her to Vince, Iris looked pleased with what she saw, but she wasn't eager to call her father for him.

"I barely say hi to him on the street, and I definitely don't call him up to chitchat," she said. She wasn't on good terms with her dad either. Vince didn't like hearing that both of McCall's kids had issues with him.

"But you do have his number," Vince said.

"Which I don't give out."

"Out of loyalty to your dad?"

She made a face and looked over at Rita, who nodded. With Rita vouching for him, Iris started dialing. There was no answer and no way to leave a message. Iris looked mad as she hung up.

"There you go. That's my dad for you," she said bitterly, but then her phone rang.

Vince could hear McCall asking, "Iris, baby, are you alright?"

"Fine," she said and rolled her eyes. Her expression had brightened, but she was trying to hide it. She talked to her dad for a while, making a face the whole time.

He sure had called her back fast. Vince wondered if that number she dialed went straight to an old-fashioned pager instead of a cell phone. Vince heard his name as Iris told her dad who wanted to talk to him. Then she handed Vince her phone.

"You getting my Iris involved doesn't sit well with me, boy," McCall told him.

"I just needed a shortcut," Vince explained. Then he offered, "I'll meet you wherever you want, and I'll bring a bottle of the good stuff to make up for it."

"Old Raj Gin," Iris whispered to him.

McCall chuckled when he heard her.

"I didn't know she knew that," McCall said. Speaking to his daughter seemed to have put him in a good mood. "OK. I'll tell you why I'll be meeting you. Not for the gin, not because I owe you one. I'll meet you because that sweet girl called me up and talked to me for the first time since she was twelve. Grand's Plumbing Supply, in the back, where the guys eat their lunch. Bring me a Stetson burger with fries and that bottle of gin."

McCall hung up, and Vince turned to Iris.

"I owe you one. When you need something, and you don't want to call your dad, call me," he told her, and she blushed. He saved his phone number on her phone before he handed it back to her.

She was still smiling when he left to go shopping for McCall.

Chapter 4

Grand's Plumbing Supply was closed for the day. In the back, boards were set up on steel drums to make tables. Plastic crates turned sideways were used for chairs. No one else was there except McCall. He was waiting at one of these makeshift tables when Vince delivered him his dinner and beverage. Vince had even brought an empty cup from Stetson's so McCall could drink. McCall motioned for him to take a seat opposite him.

"Don't waste my time. Talk while I'm eating," McCall told him then unwrapped his burger.

Vince told him what he wanted and reminded him how he and Cal had helped him, mostly Cal.

"I offered you each a hundred bucks, as I recall," McCall said. Wiping around his mouth with a napkin, he made sure no food got caught in his beard. Then he took a sip of gin.

"It was fifty," Vince corrected him. "And that favor was worth more than that, and you know it."

"Are you factoring in inflation?"

"I'm factoring in that you didn't go to jail. But Cal is in there now, and I want him looked after," Vince told him.

"My son and me don't got us that kind of relationship. He is in there because he didn't listen to me," McCall said. Vince could see some sadness in his eyes. The man sure didn't get along with his kids.

"Mend fences, make nice. Do this and maybe I'll owe you," Vince said.

"What good are you?" McCall asked and looked at him like he couldn't imagine how he could ever be useful.

"You never know. Me and Cal saved your ass once."

McCall made a face and pushed away the wrapping from his burger.

"I can still smell that stuff your friend covered me with," McCall said with a grimace and took a long swallow of gin to wash away the memory.

"Cal is better at saving other people than himself," Vince said.

"Heard how he got nabbed. Damn fool. Should have just ditched the car and the kid."

"The kid was scared, calling for his mommy." Vince couldn't really blame Cal for taking the little boy back to his mother. He just wished things had turned out differently.

"Still should have ditched him," McCall insisted.

"That's not Cal," Vince said.

McCall got up, and Vince did too. He wondered where things stood.

"I guess I'll be making a phone call," McCall said as he downed what was left in the cup.

"Maybe you'll get something out of it again." Vince was thinking of McCall's conversation with his daughter.

"Maybe I will. Haven't talked to Jimmy Jr. in a while. Maybe he's cooled off," McCall looked wistful at the idea of getting in touch with his son. Vince wondered if he was just looking for an excuse to reach out to him. "All right, all right. It's on."

"Thank you," Vince said as McCall took out his flask. He spilled out a few drops from it and refilled it from the bottle of gin. He set the bottle in the middle of the makeshift table before he left. About half of the gin was left in the bottle, a treat for the guys at Grand's Plumbing when they came in next morning.

The sun was low, breaking through between the buildings. Its light was blinding but not warm. It turned gray buildings into steely blue and glinted off windows. Vince missed the warmth and the cheerful colors of a summer sunset. When he and Cal walked these streets last, summer was already ending. The days weren't cold yet, only the evenings.

Vince passed his old apartment building and thought back to the early days of his friendship with Cal. Vince's old apartment building was nicer than Cal's. Vince's grandfather had managed a shoe store in the neighborhood. He made only enough money for Vince and his grandparents to live on, and he didn't let Vince's grandmother work. They couldn't afford to move though his grandfather always complained about the neighborhood.

Vince remembered Cal waiting for him outside. That's where Vince's grandfather spotted him standing on the sidewalk, looking up. His grandfather was suspicious of him even after Vince told him that Cal was his friend.

"What is he?" his grandfather had asked and looked down at Cal with contempt and prejudice.

"A little bit of everything," Vince told him. He meant a little bit of everything his grandfather hated.

His grandfather's look of distaste only intensified. His reaction was as good as a stamp of approval as far as Vince was concerned. It never occurred to Vince to wonder or ask about Cal's heritage. To him, Cal was Cal. Vince didn't know anything about Cal's heritage, and it turned out Cal didn't either. His mother was long gone, and his father and his aunt, Ginny, didn't like to talk about their family.