Authors: Rob Rosen
Tags: #MLR Press LLC; Print format ISBN# 978-1-60820-435-9; ebook format ISBN#978-1-60820-436-6, #Gay, #General, #Romance, #Erotica, #Fiction
Then she pulled out her iPhone and started punching away,
searching for something. A minute after that, she was dialing
someone. And then she was saying, in the fakest of southern
belle voices, “Well hi there, sugar. This is Governor Crest’s office
calling for Robbie. Is he in?” She paused and gave us a thumb’s
up. “He’ll be back in a half hour? Oh good, the governor will call
back then. Thank you kindly.” And then she flicked the phone
shut. “Well, at least Robert E. is in Savannah. Which means, so
is Beau.”
Zeb tapped his fingers on the tabletop. “But Beau’s not at the
office, I’m sure. That’d be too risky.”
“But he must be in about a thirty mile radius of it. The
receptionist said that the boss would be back in a half hour.”
Again she flicked open her cellphone, typed a bit, and then looked
up at us. “Found his home address and mapped it. He lives thirty-
five miles away from his office. Think it’s a coincidence?”
I looked over at Zeb. “I thought you said we were the brains
and she was the brawn.”
He shrugged. “Guess we’re just the pretty ones.” She reached
over and socked him one in the arm. “Ow! I meant, pretty in a
gay boy way. You’re pretty in a, in a, um…”
She hit him again. “Forget it,” she said. “I’ll take the brains
and
the brawn. Pretty fades; smarts only get smarter.”
I frowned. “Who says pretty fades? Look at Cher.”
She sighed and took another big chomp of her chicken.
“Okay then. Pretty fades unless it gets permalocked and stapled
in. Better?”
Reluctantly, I lifted my drumstick back up. “They don’t use
staples anymore,” I informed her. “And, yes. Much.” I finished
off the tender meat and took a big swig of Coke. “So, what do
we do once we get there?”
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119
She started in on her next piece. “Let’s just get there first; then
we’ll think of something after we get the lay of the land.” She
stared at me and then at Zeb, both of us now with mildly terrified
looks on our faces. “Don’t worry, boys; I’m trained for this.”
But I was worried. And slightly queasy from all the grease
and caffeine sloshing around in my belly. Not to mention the
pork rinds from that morning. Still, we knew about them and
they didn’t know about us, and we had the element of surprise
on our side. So I turned my frown upside down and sucked my
fingers clean, saving a piece of chicken for later, and then one
from each of their plates. Because, truth be told, that shit was
about as addictive as crystal meth, without the obvious slimming
side effects.
In any case, we were off a short while later, speeding along
now, making up time. And that’s when we spotted the black
Mercedes as it zipped by us, going in the opposite direction. Zeb
hollered, “That was him!”
“Him who?” I hollered back.
“Robert E!”
My belly burbled. That was good news for us; it meant we
were headed in the right direction, headed for Beau. And with
Robert E. gone, we had one less bad guy to contend with.
Though we weren’t out of the woods just yet. In fact, we were in
the thick of them. Literally.
This wasn’t the burbs; this was the sticks. And the trees were
dense on all sides. Giant oaks and massive pines. What we were
driving through was an old growth forest. And the reason?
Because the Pellinghams owned this land for generations. The
house, too, we were soon to discover, was old. Not like Granny’s,
of course. Or the senator’s, more than likely. But it did scream
of wealth.
We pulled of the road about a quarter of a mile past the place.
No sense in giving them any warning that we were there. Though
we hadn’t a clue who the
them
was. In silence we crept. Well,
when we weren’t cracking twigs or crunching leaves beneath our
120 Rob Rosen
sneakers, or squealing with each sound we heard from off to the
side. So, to rephrase, in
near
silence we crept.
We spotted the pick-up truck first, parked in front of a garage
that sat separate from the house. Then out of the side of the
garage stepped a big, burly dude, dressed in overalls and a plaid
shirt. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket and
lit one up, all while we crouched down, hiding behind two pines
that had grown side by side.
But that’s not what gave us pause. See, he wasn’t alone. Two
massive dogs lay sprawled out off to the right of the driveway.
And, while we could go undetected by the guy, the dogs were a
different story entirely.
“Now what?” I mouthed.
Zeb lifted his index finger at me and Stella, indicating that we
should wait there. Then he ran back the way we’d come, silently.
Um, silently-
ish
. But the woods were full of noise, and the dogs,
thank goodness, stayed slumbering, the guard puffing away. Ten
minutes later, Zeb returned, my Popeye’s box in his hand.
“How can you eat a time like this?” I whispered.
He punched me gently in the arm. “Not for me, boss.” Then
he pointed at the dogs and grinned.
Stella sighed. “How long will that keep them quiet, though?”
Zeb’s grin grew wider. From his front pocket he took out a
prescription bottle. I took it from him and read the label. Then
my smile echoed his. “Pays to be a stable boy, huh?” I whispered.
Stella took the bottle, and the smile was thirded. “Horse
tranquilizers,” she whispered. “Brilliant.”
He grinned, and whispered back. “I aim to please.”
She looked at me with her own grin, this one a knowing one.
So, I replied, “That he does.” Then I looked up at the garage.
“But what about Bubba up there?”
She smiled and stood up. “Leave Bubba to me. You two wait
back here; you’ll know what to do next.”
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121
I grabbed her arm. “But, but what if he, uh, tries anything?”
She patted the gun hidden in her waistband. “Trust me, I’ll be
fine. It’s him you should be worried about.”
I smiled and let go of her. She nodded and was off.
“Somehow,” I whispered to Zeb, “I believe her.” He nodded,
kissed me on the cheek, and the two of us watched her in action.
She backtracked a bit and approached from the driveway,
pushing her shirt down and over, so one shoulder was showing,
her boobs pushed up and out. Bait. And when you’re fishing,
it’s all about the bait. Thankfully, hers were first-rate. Then she
poufed up her hair. Because southern guys love big hair. Then
her walk went from her usual lumber to a dainty short-step. “Oh,
she’s good,” I whispered. And he was watching her now, eyes
wide, the cigarette finished and the butt tossed to the ground.
She approached him, swirling the tip of her mop of blonde
between her fingers, head tilted coyly to the side. He smiled, face
suddenly animated. Then, to Zeb and my great surprise, the two
of them took off down the driveway. “She’s taking him to our
car,” Zeb whispered. “So we don’t have all that much time to
rescue Beau, if he’s even in there.”
I stood up after they went past and then grabbed Zeb’s hand.
“Nope, not much time.” We ran as quietly to the house as we
could, the dogs suddenly alert, teeth bared, backs arched. The
growls came next. And then so did our pieces of doped-up fried
chicken, which got tossed right in front of them. They were on
it, quick as wink, ignoring us for the time being. And that was our
chance. The two of us ran to the side of the garage, grabbed the
doorknob, and hustled inside.
“What the fuck?” came the immediate reply.
“Beau!” I yelped, running toward him, and noticing in an
instant a kink in our plan. See, he wasn’t only guarded by two
dogs and one big Bubba; he was chained up to a radiator, too,
sitting on the cement floor, tucked away in a corner. “I don’t
suppose you have the key to that lock, do you?”
“Guess again, dipshit,” he grumbled, strangely none too
122 Rob Rosen
happy to see me.
“That guy out there have it?” I tried.
“Strike two.”
“Robert E.?” asked Zeb.
Beau chuckled, half-heartedly. “And it only took you three
guesses. My heroes.” He pulled at his chains and tossed his head
back. “Any bright ideas, fellas?”
My heart began to race even quicker now. “Do you, do you
know who I am?”
He locked eyes with me, bitterly. “You’re Trip Jackson.” He
looked to Zeb. “And you’re Zeb, the stable boy. So what? Unless
you brought a locksmith, I can’t see how either one of you is
much of a help here.” He held up the chains and the lock.
I moved in closer. “No. I meant, do you
know
who I am?”
His eyes shut tight, the chuckle repeated, the chains clanking
as his hands fell to his side. He opened his eyes again and smiled,
crookedly. “Family reunion time, huh?”
My legs trembled. “So you do know.”
“I know a lot, Trip.” His smile disappeared. “Like, when you
called me before and that asshole found my phone, guess what
he did after he hung up?”
I gulped. “Oh fuck.”
“Exactly,” he snickered. “Oh fuck. As in, you’re fucked.
Because the senator’s son has lots and lots of connections,
Little
Brother
. And now he’s looking for you, too. Guess why?”
My gulp repeated as I stared at him. “Because he knows that
I know. That I know he’s your father. That I know he’s about to
run for office and that one son is gay and the other an illegitimate
peach picker.”
His snickering stopped. “Bravo, Trip. Little good all that will
do you now. They have me and they’ll have you soon enough. In
fact, you’re halfway dead just being here. Might as well go back
up to New York where you belong, let me take care of
Daddy
.
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123
So long as no one’s talking out of turn, we’ll both be fine and
dandy.”
“But, but you’re my brother; I can’t leave you.”
He sneered, the chains loud as he shifted in place. “Leave me?
Huh. Where were you all the other times I needed you? What’s
so different about now?”
I crouched down a foot in front of him. “I didn’t know, Beau.
Honest, I didn’t know until after she died.”
He fought against his chains. “Bullshit!” he spat. “Bullshit,
Trip! She told me everything. So save your breath, go home,
and leave me the fuck alone.” His eyes flickered with hatred.
“Besides, he can’t kill me. I have the birth certificate in a safe
place. Insurance, Trip. Insurance. All I have to do is tell them that
I have it and I’m a free man.” He looked away, breathing heavily
now.
I wanted to tell him that if wasn’t true. To tell him how glad
I was that I had a brother. That we’d share the mansion, the
heritage. But I didn’t have time. Just as I was about to say all that,
we heard Stella’s voice booming from down the driveway. That
was our warning, our clue to skedaddle. “I’ll be back, Beau. Don’t
worry, I’ll be back to save you.”
We headed for the door, with him shouting from behind.
“Don’t do me any favors.”
I turned, quickly. “You have it all wrong, Big Brother. All
wrong.” And then Zeb was yanking me out of there, both of
us running behind the garage, just as Bubba made his way back
to the side. We’d made it to safety, but just by a hair. I poked my
head around as he shut the door behind him. Stella was waving
from the foot of the driveway. That was our next clue. And one
we gladly took.
Minutes later, with Zeb and I huffing and puffing, after
ducking behind too many trees to count, we met up with her
back at the car. “Well, that was fun,” she quipped.
“What did you say to him to get him out here?” I asked.
124 Rob Rosen
She winked at me. “Feminine wiles,” she said. “Told him my
car broke down, acted all defenseless, pushed out my tits and
smiled. Easy as pie.”
“But the car isn’t broken down,” I reminded her.
She nodded and winked. “Trust me, it was by the time he
looked. Took me a half a second to break it and five minutes for
him to fix.” She paused and her smile turned to a frown. “Guess
that wasn’t enough time though, huh?”
My own frown was twice as hang-dog. “It was plenty, Stella.
Thanks. But he was chained up, and Robert E. has the key.
Besides, he… he doesn’t want our help.”
Zeb made the frown unanimous. “Your granny, she lied to
him. But why?”
We filled Stella in on what he’d said. “Nope, doesn’t make
sense,” she soon agreed. “Family was everything to her. You,
your mama, her mama. It was all she talked about, Trip. Why
not add Beau to the mix? And why tell him about you and not
you about him?” She folded her arms over her chest and sighed.
“Something’s not adding up here. We’re missing something.”
“Besides that key for that lock back there.” I pointed to the
house through the thicket of trees, my heart nearly breaking.
Close. So close.
“Then let’s just call the cops and be done with it,” she