The Butcher's Son (19 page)

I was in a booth in a far corner of the nearly empty diner, nursing my coffee, when he came in. He looked tired and understandably distraught. Sliding into the bench opposite me, he got right down to business.

“What am I going to do, Dick? What am I going to do?”

“Well, before we go into that, tell me exactly what happened.”

He started to pour himself a cup of coffee and then apparently decided against it, pushing the cup aside.

“The day after the explosion, I got a message from one of the volunteers I’d had a call from somebody named Pat. I was getting all sorts of calls, of course, and didn’t think a thing of it—there are lots of Pats, both male and female—and I just let it pass.

“A few days later, there was another message, which came in to the shelter while Sue-Lynn and I were in Evertston meeting with a group of my father’s supporters. Again it didn’t register. And whoever called didn’t leave a call-back number.”

He reached for the coffee carafe and poured half a cup, then poured so much sugar in it I thought the spoon would be able to stand up by itself.

“Then, tonight, I was just going up to my office for my prayers and meditation. As I passed the phone, it rang, and when I picked up…I recognized his voice immediately. ‘How’s it going, little brother?’ he asked. Patrick is twelve minutes older than I am; nobody else would know that. I was so nervous I couldn’t say anything for a minute, and I finally asked him where he was. ‘Around,’ he said.” He looked at me with an expression of anguish. “He wouldn’t tell me where he is, but I know he’s here in the city somewhere.”

“How can you be sure?”

He shook his head.

“I just know. I
felt
it. Unless you have an identical twin, you can’t understand what I mean, but…” He looked into his coffee. I sensed there was something more he wasn’t saying.

“But…?” I prompted.

Kevin gave a deep sigh and a shrug.

“We always just knew things about each other, ever since we were babies. And now I’m certain he’s here, and that he’s been here for months!”

I shook my head, trying to follow what he was saying. He anticipated my next question.

“I’ve had this same feeling several times in the past couple of months, but I refused to pay attention to it. Twice, people I know mentioned having seen me around town in places I knew I couldn’t have been at the time. It didn’t register—probably because I didn’t
want
it to register. I just thought they were mistaken. It never occurred to me Patrick might be back—it just didn’t. It’s been so long.”

“Have you told anybody about this?”

“Nobody,” he said. “But I know Patrick is back, and that he’s going to do whatever he can to destroy my father’s career.”

I considered a good long time before saying, “You can’t jump to that conclusion, Kev. If he wanted to do that, all he would have to do is call the media—or any of your father’s political enemies.”

He gave a wry little smile.

“Oh, no. No. You don’t know Patrick. You have no idea of how evil he is. He called me for a reason, and he is out to do something terrible, and I have no idea what it is or how to prevent it.” His eyes locked on mine. “And you have no idea what this is doing to me—what it has done to me all these years.

“Patrick is evil. Truly evil, and it’s as though the devil himself created him to destroy me and my entire family. And still…” He bit his lower lip and shook his head slowly back and forth. “…and still, he is my brother, and I love him, and I miss him. How can I love him? How?”

I had no idea what to say. Kevin was obviously in a place I had no desire ever to go. I felt tremendously sorry for him in spite of my resolve not to get involved with him in any way.

He was still staring at me, obviously desperate for help, or advice, or something. Suddenly, to my total surprise, he reached across the table and took my hand.

“Can I spend the night at your house, Dick?”

I was sure the hell glad I was sitting down, because if I hadn’t been, my legs might have given out from under me.

“Kev, I…I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

“Please, Dick! I can’t go home; it’s much too late. I often stay over at the shelter, but I just can’t go back there tonight. What if Patrick were to call again? I could go to a hotel, of course, but…”

I was mildly surprised to realize he was still holding my hand, and more than a little pissed at myself when I felt myself starting to get aroused.

Jesus, Hardesty! Get a grip!

Reluctantly, and with my better judgment yelling
Don’t do it!
I said, “Okay, Kev, if you’re sure. I’ve got a guest bedroom you can use.”

As if suddenly realizing that he still held my hand, he released it quickly and said, “Thanks.”

We left the restaurant, and I said, “I’ll drive if you want.”

He shook his head.

“That’s okay. I’ll take my own car and follow you.”

*

All the way home, as I checked the rearview mirror
several times a minute to make sure Kevin was still behind me, my mind was working overtime on several levels at once.

Stupid move, Hardesty!

What was Patrick up to? Why would he come back after so many years? Well, that part was fairly obvious—the chief’s bid for governor had been mentioned to one degree or another across the country. It was payback time.

You’re going to regret this!

But if he was back to ruin his father’s chance for governor, why
didn’t
he just go public with his whole story? That would pretty much accomplish what he wanted. Could Kevin be right about Patrick having some other, more sinister motive or motives? And what in hell could it/they possibly be? If coming back was going to cut off his source of income, I’d imagine whatever it was would have to be pretty important to him.

My mind suddenly flashed to Kevin’s crawling into my bed at the motel. He really was hot.

Jeezus, Hardesty!

As we approached my apartment building, I noticed a parking place about halfway up the block and slowed to open the window and motion to Kevin to take it. Then I pulled into the building’s garage and walked back to the street to meet him.

It was just after three-thirty when we entered my apartment, and I realized I was completely exhausted. I showed Kevin to the guest bedroom, which was still cluttered with Chris’s boxes. He shook my hand and thanked me again, and I went into my own room, where I undressed, climbed under the covers, and immediately fell into a very deep sleep.

I felt Chris come to bed, and I rolled over and slipped my arms around him without bothering to wake up. He snuggled closer, and we just held one another. He put his head against my chest, and he must have been cold, because I could feel him shivering. I just pulled him closer, and it felt warm and comfortable and the way it should always be…

*

I awoke with a start. A bar of sunlight stretched
across
the bed from the partially open curtains. Chris was…

Chris?

I jumped out of bed, grabbed my robe from behind the door, and went directly to the guest bedroom. The door was open, the bed unmade, but there was no sign of Kevin. I checked the bathroom then went into the kitchen. On the counter was a note:

Dick: Many thanks for your hospitality. Have to get to the shelter for morning services.

Kevin

I do not have a closet full of dunce caps. I can occasionally complete an entire crossword puzzle all by myself, and I can dress myself without assistance when necessary. But when it came to Kevin and the clan Rourke, I honestly hadn’t a clue. Either he knew damned well what little game he was playing, and what the rules were, or he was one very strange young man. I tended to opt for the latter.

For some reason, I was reminded of a kid I took home while I was still in college. He was hot as hell, but all he wanted to do was masturbate using my tennis shoes. Fine for him, but sort of zilch for me. I actually went home with him a second time because I simply couldn’t believe the first. Tennis shoes: 2; Hardesty: 0.

Two things were for sure. With Patrick back on the scene, things were going to get a lot more interesting. And I wanted to talk to Patrick very badly.

*

Bob called around nine-thirty asking if I
wanted to
join him for brunch. He’d gotten a call from an old friend who had recently moved back to town he thought I might like to meet. I’m not averse to a little matchmaking, so I agreed.

We met Don Yosling at Rasputin’s. Don, Bob had informed me on the way to the restaurant, was a forensic pathologist for the state who had been his roommate at college. Don’s lover of fifteen years had recently died, and Bob thought it would be a good idea for the three of us to join up and take a little walk down the path back to the real world together.

Don turned out to be a really nice guy, about ten years older than I but quite handsome in a “grows-on-you” kind of way. He was very soft-spoken but had a sharp, wry sense of humor. He was also quite shy, which both surprised and pleased me a bit. I’ve always had a soft spot for shy guys. While he was very subtle about it, I caught him looking at me a couple of times and got a definite vibe or two.

By mutual unspoken agreement, none of us mentioned our exes, and I, for one, had a really good, relaxed time. And I was very much aware how much I really needed a time like that.

When Don mentioned his car was in the shop, Bob and I volunteered to give him a ride home. Despite his protestations of not wanting to bother us and the ready availability of public transportation, we convinced him.

It was nearly two-thirty by the time we left Rasputin’s and Bob, looking at his watch, said, “Damn! Dick, would you mind dropping me off at the apartment? It’s right on the way, and I completely forgot there’s a Bar Guild meeting at four o’clock!”

Don, who was sitting in the back seat, said, “I can just catch a bus from your place, then. It’s right on my line.”

“Hey, it’s no problem. Don’t worry about it. It’s really good just to get out!”

We dropped Bob off at the apartment, and Don got into the front seat beside me. Don and Bob agreed to call one another during the week, and Bob retreated into the building.

“You’re sure you don’t mind running me all the way home?”

“My pleasure,” I said, and got the sensation I really meant it. I realized that, other than that whatever-it-was-you-could-call-it with Kevin at the hotel, I hadn’t had sex in what seemed like several eternities. Of course, to a Scorpio, two days without sex is an eternity.

Not that I assumed that was what was going to happen with Don, but if he did show any interest, I certainly wouldn’t mind.

On the way, we covered a lot of conversational ground, including the upcoming elections. Either I or Bob had mentioned at brunch about my working on the chief’s PR team, and while Don was much too polite to say anything, I did get a quizzical look.

He made it quite clear his opinion of the chief pretty well paralleled my own, and he asked a few questions about the chief’s private life, about which very little was still known by the general public. Without going into too much detail, I mentioned the various family members and the fact that Kevin’s identical twin Patrick had disappeared on a hunting trip. He appeared very interested, and wanted to know where and how Patrick had disappeared.

“Up near Neelyville, from what I understand,” I said. “He apparently fell from a cliff into the river, which was in flood stage. His body was never found,” I added, not mentioning why.

Don nodded.

“That’s too bad. I remember hearing about it when it happened. The Oak’s a mean river when it floods. And didn’t it just come out that…Kevin?…was gay?”

“Patrick was gay, yes. Kevin’s married and, therefore, couldn’t possibly be one of
those
,” I said, grinning.

Don returned the grin.

“Ah, Patrick, yes…sorry. Anyway, it’s not unusual for bodies not to be retrieved in circumstances like that. Sometimes they might turn up later downstream somewhere. But more often than not, they’re never found. A real shame for the families.”

We arrived at his apartment, and I pulled up into an empty space not far from the front door.

“Could I offer you a drink for having dragged you all the way out here?”

“Sure. Why not?”

Don’s apartment was nice, and rather reminded me of mine in that it looked a little sparse—his from just having moved in, mine from Chris’s just having moved out. He fixed our drinks and we sat together on his large, comfortable sofa talking, but it soon became quite evident to both of us where the conversation was going.

Finally, Don took the initiative.

“So, what do you think of older men?”

“Like who?”

He smiled. “Spoken like a true diplomat. Like me, for example.”

“Shit! Ask me when you get there.”

“Well, it does matter to a lot of guys. Once you’re past thirty, you’re pond scum.”

“A lot of guys are idiots. I go to bed with what’s inside a person, not what’s outside. And if you ask me, you’re pretty hot either way.”

“Let’s find out,” he said.

And we did.

*

Don had given up smoking and there were no ashtrays
evident in the bedroom, so I forced myself not to ask for one and abstained. The sex, like the brunch, was just exactly what I needed, and even more enjoyable.

“Okay for an old guy?”

“You give me that ‘old guy’ routine one more time, and I’ll smother you with this pillow. And any time you want to start a sex school for some of these younger twinks, you could make a fortune.”

We lay side-by-side quietly for a while until Don said, “I owe you, Dick. This is my first time since…in a long time. It’s nice to know it can still be good.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” I couldn’t really count the time with Kevin, since he did all the work, and he wouldn’t let me return the favor.

“I’d like it if we might get to be friends,” Don said. “And you don’t have to worry about me trying to latch on to you. I’m nowhere near even
thinking
about the possibility of another relationship. But an occasional fuck with a friend would sure be great.”