Boys Don't Cry (23 page)

‘I . . . I love you too, Dad.’

‘Where is he, Paul?’

‘I don’t know. I swear I don’t know. Let me go.’ Paul struggled to get out of my grasp but he wasn’t going anywhere. Not until I had some answers.

It’d been over a month since Adam had had his second operation and I was sick and tired of waiting for justice to be served on the ones who had put my brother in hospital. Adam had been in hospital for eight days and even though he was now home, he still had to take all his meals through a straw – when he could be persuaded to eat at all. His jaw had to stay wired shut for another two weeks at least. And he was in constant pain. My brother only left his bedroom to go the bathroom and that was only after he made Dad take down the bathroom mirror. He had given up trying to speak, using a notepad to communicate.

And his face . . .

He had a crisscross pattern of scars down the right side of his face and his right eye drooped noticeably, the result of facial nerve paralysis due to his fractured temporal bone. The doctors said that given time and effort
on Adam’s part it might improve. But Adam lost the will to make the effort. He didn’t fizz any more. Not even close. And he never smiled. He didn’t even attempt it.

And the ones who did that to him were out here somewhere having a good laugh and joke about their handiwork.

Well, if the police weren’t going to do their job, then I’d do it for them. Starting with this little weasel, Paul. He’d been the easiest to track down. He’d been the easiest to track down. It’d only taken three phone calls to find out where he worked. Dad had stopped working overtime since Adam came out of hospital, so it was easy to ask him to baby-sit with the excuse that I needed to go for a walk for a little while to clear my head. I waited outside the dealership where Paul worked, far enough away to not get spotted but close enough to see him the moment he came out. Then it was just a question of following him until he was in a secluded-enough place for the two of us to have a little ‘chat’. Ironic that it should be the park.

He didn’t know what hit him.

And now he was on the ground, wriggling and slippery as a hooked fish, but I had him and I wasn’t letting go.

‘Paul, I’m not playing. Where’s Josh?’

‘At his house probably.’

‘I’ve been there. His mum said he’s staying with you for a few days. So this is the last time I’m going to ask:
where is Josh?
’

Paul stared at me like a rabbit stunned by headlights. ‘He . . . he . . .’

I slammed the flat of my hand into the ground right
next to his head. And it bloody hurt, but if he thought I was mucking around, he was going to be painfully put right.

‘The next one won’t miss,’ I warned him.

‘He’s at Logan’s. He’s staying at Logan’s house for a few days,’ said Paul, his words tripping over themselves to be heard. ‘I’m just covering for him ’cause Josh’s mum doesn’t like Logan.’

‘Logan is at university.’ I scowled. ‘He told me at the restaurant that he was off to uni the following week, so stop lying.’

‘I’m not. I’m not,’ Paul said quickly, his eyes wide with panic as I raised my fist. ‘He didn’t get the necessary grades. He’s still at home. I swear he is. Logan was the one who lied. You’ve got to believe me.’

‘Hhmm . . .’ In spite of everything, I did believe him. I got to my feet, my eyes narrowing as I considered what to do next.

Paul struggled to sit up. ‘I . . . I’m sorry about your brother . . .’

I stamped him back down against the ground just as hard as I could. ‘Don’t you dare talk about my brother,’ I spat at him. ‘Don’t you dare.’

‘I’m s-sorry . . .’ Paul coughed.

I straightened up, asking icily, ‘Are you going to phone Josh to warn him that I’m after him?’

Paul shook his head. ‘But he already knows. That’s why he very rarely stays at his own home or any place for too long.’

My eyes were like slits as I considered Paul, remembering
the way he’d knelt on me whilst Josh kicked the crap out of my brother. At that moment, I wanted to hurt him so badly – but I wanted to catch up to Josh more. So Paul would just have to wait his turn. He was further down my list of priorities. What I wanted to know was why they were all still on the streets after what they’d done to Adam? Why hadn’t the police arrested them?

‘Did the police come and see you?’ I asked.

Paul lowered his gaze. ‘Yeah. I had to go to the police station with my mum and dad. I was released pending further enquiries but they warned me that I’ll probably be charged with affray and end up in court. They did the same to Logan.’

Affray? Was that it?

‘And Josh?’

‘The police haven’t caught up with him yet,’ said Paul. ‘But my dad says Josh will be charged with GBH for sure.’

Grievous bodily harm? Not good enough. Not even on the same planet as good enough.

‘He should’ve turned himself in,’ I told Paul. ‘He would’ve been safer than he will be when I get hold of him.’ I straightened up. ‘If you do phone Josh to warn him, tell him not to bother running because I’ll hunt him through hell itself if I have to.’ I turned to walk away.

‘It wasn’t Josh . . .’ Paul called out after me.

I turned back with a frown.

‘I mean, Josh . . . Josh hurt your brother, but it wasn’t . . . wasn’t him . . .’

What was he talking about?

‘I mean . . . it wasn’t Josh’s fault,’ said Paul.

I marched back to him. He’d just moved up my priority list. Paul drew back, shrinking into himself when he saw the murderous expression on my face.

‘Whose fault was it then?’ I asked softly. ‘My brother’s?’

‘No. No,’ Paul replied quickly. ‘I just meant that we’d all been drinking and Logan was the one . . . Logan . . .’

‘Spit it out,’ I ordered impatiently.

‘W-when we left the Bar Belle that night, Logan wouldn’t leave Josh alone. He k-kept teasing Josh about being a . . . being the same as Adam. And Josh was just getting madder and madder. I tried to tell Logan to back off, but he wouldn’t stop and then Josh said he’d prove how much he hated queers. And even then Logan wouldn’t stop provoking him. So it was Logan’s and Josh’s idea to wait for you guys to head home and then Josh would prove once and for all that he wasn’t one of . . . he wasn’t a . . .’

‘I get the picture,’ I told him stonily.

‘I didn’t know it would go as far as it did, I swear. I’ve never seen Josh lose it like that, but he never would’ve done it if Logan hadn’t kept provoking him.’

A conversation I’d had with Collette in the park crept into my head. What was it she’d said?

‘
You know what Josh is like when Logan is goading him
. . . ’

I ran a hand over my head, like I was trying to straighten out my thoughts. Had I got it wrong? Was Logan the one I should really be after? Was he really there in the background pulling everyone’s strings like some malevolent puppet master? I shook my head. I couldn’t afford to let doubts and second thoughts into my head. Not now. I’d
spent the last few weeks thinking about what I needed to do. And I’d finally reached a conclusion. This was not the time for uncertainty. Josh first, then Logan.

‘Paul, here’s some advice. Stay away from me and mine if you know what’s good for you. If you see me on the street, you’d better cross the road because the next time I see you, it’s on.’

I spun round and walked away.

Time to find Josh.

It turned out to be easier than I thought it would be. I only had to watch Logan’s house for one night without success. On the second night, I turned into Logan’s street and there was Josh walking towards me, his head down, a bulging rucksack across his shoulder.

I stopped walking as I watched him approach. He wore denim jeans, a grubby grey T-shirt and the brown leather jacket he’d got for his sixteenth birthday. And with each step he took, the quiet fury inside me rose a little higher and burned a little stronger. Each step Josh took set off flashes of memory, snapshots of the kicking he’d given my brother. He had hidden out, waiting to ambush Adam. And for what? Because Adam had insulted him in the restaurant? With his head still down, Josh couldn’t see me, which suited me just fine. I took a quick look around. There were three people further up the road but they were walking away from us. The late autumn night air was dark and cold and sharp, just the way I felt inside.

I smiled as Josh got closer and closer.

He was about two metres away from me and closing when he finally realized that something was wrong.
His head shot up. At the sight of me, his eyes widened, his mouth dropped open. And he bolted like he had the Devil himself after him – which, when you got right down to it, wasn’t far from the truth.

Josh was fast.

But I was faster.

Rugby tackling him to the ground, I then dragged him up onto his feet, throwing him against the nearest wall just as hard as I could. The air left his lungs in a pained hiss for a second time in as many seconds.

‘I’m sorry . . . I’m sorry . . .’

The words leaped from Josh before I could open my mouth. He put out his hands to fend me off but I knocked them out the way.

My hand was at his throat. I stared into his eyes without blinking. Slowly my fingers began to tighten around his neck.

‘I’m sorry . . .’ Josh squirmed frantically. ‘I d-didn’t m-mean to . . . He shouldn’t have k-kissed me.’

I tightened my grip. Josh’s face was turning puce now. He needed to taste some of what he’d dished out to my brother. Images of police, court, prison flitted in my head. My grip loosened, but only for a second. Josh had to pay.

My brother deserved nothing less.

And from the terror widening his eyes, Josh knew what was coming. He kept pulling away from me like he was trying to merge with the wall behind him. But he wasn’t going anywhere. Josh’s eyelids began to flutter shut.

Stop, Dante
. . .

No. Damn it, he had to pay. Hell! There was a war going on inside me. Visions of Emma danced through my resolve.
Her smile kept biting chunks out of my hatred towards Josh. I needed to focus on Adam, not my daughter.

Emma . . .

Damn it. I was all mixed up.

Josh stopped pulling away. He unexpectedly leaned forward instead.

And kissed me.

I let go of him at once, scrubbing my lips with the back of my hand. Josh collapsed in a heap at my feet, coughing and spluttering as he fought to draw breath.

‘You sick bastard!’ I shouted. ‘I’m gonna
kill
you.’

Josh put out his hands to try and push me away, but it did no good. Fists clenched, I aimed for his face and started battering him with all the fury that raged inside. He covered his head with his arms, curling up into a ball to try and protect himself. But it didn’t make any difference, not to me.

‘See,’ he gasped out through bloodied lips. ‘You hate us queers just as much as I do.’

His words jolted through me like a lightning bolt, stopping me in mid swing. Josh started to cry. Big awkward, embarrassed sobs racked his body. I stared down at him, his words clanging in my head.

Us queers
. . .?

‘You . . . you’re
gay
?’

Josh nodded, still sobbing at my feet.

‘I . . . I don’t hate . . . I’m not like you. This is about what you did to my brother,’ I stuttered.

But who was I trying to convince, Josh or myself? Here I was standing over him, my fists clenched, my mind set on his destruction. I’d made up my mind to make him pay.

Pay?

Don’t honey-coat it, Dante
.

I’d made up my mind to make him suffer, to make him endure worse than he’d inflicted on Adam. I had it all figured out. It was cold and calculated and I’d thought of nothing else since the night it had happened. Dad and Adam between them could look after Emma if I got banged up, plus Emma would get my bedroom to herself that much sooner. The social services wouldn’t take her away from the only family she knew, at least that’s what I was counting on. Dad wouldn’t let them take my daughter away from him. She’d be my one real regret, but if Josh got what was coming to him then maybe my brother could move forward and get on with his life.

An eye for an eye.

But then Josh had kissed me . . .

And any last lingering doubts I might have had about whether or not I could really hurt him flew out of my head and all I wanted to do then was not so much kill him as destroy him. I thought I hated him because of what he’d done to my brother. But that was nothing compared to what I’d felt when he’d kissed me.

So just what did that make me?

I leaned against the wall, my head tilted back as I tried to figure things out.

Next to me, Josh’s sobs were beginning to subside. He inhaled deeply, fighting for control. I watched as he slowly got to his feet, spitting out the blood in his mouth. We regarded each other. Josh was shaking. I was still.

‘Is . . . is Adam going to be OK?’

I glared at him. He could not be serious. My brother had escaped being six feet under by a hair’s-breadth and Josh had the nerve to enquire about his health?

‘Are you deliberately trying to wind me up?’

Josh shook his head. ‘No, I . . . no . . .’ The merest hint of a smile and it would’ve been me and him again, but Josh’s expression remained sombre. ‘Could you tell Adam . . . tell him I’m sorry?’ asked Josh.

Fists clenched, I turned round and walked away.

It was way after midnight when I finally returned home. I’d walked for a couple of hours, just thinking. And my thoughts hadn’t been pleasant ones, but they’d been honest. At first I’d seriously thought about going after Logan. When I eventually cooled down, I finally realized the extent to which we’d all been played, Josh included – not that I had any sympathy for that bastard whatsoever. But Logan was the one who’d wound us all up like mechanical toys and set us clashing and crashing towards each other. Some people like Collette and Adam had seen beneath Logan’s mask. I hadn’t. A lifetime ago, I’d dreamed of uncovering the truth and writing about it. Some joke when I couldn’t even tell what was true and what was false when it was right under my nose.