The Way You Say My Name (9 page)

Jamie lifted his chin and closed his eyes. Dipping down, Dillon could almost taste him. His own eyes fluttered shut. They were almost touching, when the door flew open.
Sadie stood in the doorway, wearing pink pajamas and a long, fuzzy white robe. She hid a grin as the two of them scrambled to opposite sides of the bed. “You’re awake. Thank heavens. I was starting to worry. Are you feeling better, then, Jamie?” Her tone was even, just as if she found her nephew in bed with a half-naked man everyday.
“A little.” He looked at Dillon from the corner of his eye. “Dillon helped me through the worst of it, I think. For tonight anyway. Dr. Nash said grieving is a process, but I think I’m at least on my way.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” She gave Dillon a knowing smile. “I assume you’re spending the night?”
It was Dillon’s turn to blush. “Yes, ma’am. Um, that is, if it’s all right.”
“Of course. Though, perhaps it would be better if you passed the remainder of the night in the guestroom.” An order, not a suggestion. She might be open minded, but even that had its limits.
“Yes, ma’am.” Dillon started to get out of bed, but remembered he was wearing only his underwear. “Uh, Miss Banks?”
Sadie laughed. “I’ll just make certain the guestroom bed has fresh sheets.”
As soon as she left, Dillon scrambled into his jeans. The rest of his things he gathered into his arms to take with him. He was all loaded up and on his way to the door when Jamie said, “Dillon?”
“Yeah?”
“Sweet dreams.”
Dillon smiled down at him. “You too.” He knew Jamie’s would be anything but sweet, right now, anyway. But someday soon, he hoped they would be. And maybe, if he was lucky, those dreams would include him.
* * *
Dillon parked his car in the usual space. Shutting off the ignition, he turned to Jamie. “You sure you want to do this? Your aunt said she’d write you an excuse so you could stay home today.”
Jamie zipped his coat and donned his gloves. “So I can do what, sit at home all day and think about Ben? About how much I’m going to miss him? I’m better off here.” His voice dropped so low that Dillon could barely hear him. “I’m better off with you.”
Dillon reached over and squeezed his hand. “Okay, then. Meet me back here for lunch?”
“How about meeting me at the lockers, instead? It’s too damn cold out here.”
Dillon laughed and got out of the car. “I’ll see you then.”
If days went any slower, Dillon had never seen one. Besides a myriad of cracks about the fact that he was wearing the same clothes he wore yesterday, Dillon’s school day started with a thirty minute period of mourning for Ben Lewis led by none other than Dan Morgan himself. The auditorium was filled to the brim with crying girls (most of whom had no idea who Ben Lewis even was) and a passel of laughing jocks who saw this as a prime opportunity to perfect the fine art of the spitball. Dillon did his best to catch a glimpse of Jamie, but the throng of pseudo-grievers made it impossible. Megan sat beside him through most of the assembly, rolling her eyes every time Morgan started in about the “brevity of life” and the “utmost importance of living each day to its fullest.” A few times, Dillon was certain he’d laugh out loud. Once Megan even stepped on his foot to keep that from happening. The mark of a true friend. The one bright side during the whole assembly was that he didn’t see his mother either. Time enough for the crucifixion after school.
The three remaining classes before lunch weren’t much better. Lots of talk about Ben from people who wouldn’t have spit on him if his guts were on fire. Not while he was alive, anyway. Seems that sudden death made a guy downright popular.
When the fourth period bell rang, Dillon was ready. He had vivid fantasies of kidnapping Jamie and keeping him for the rest of the day, the two of them shutting out the whole world. Unfortunately, Ashton Barnes and Chad Minton put a stop to that.
They were waiting for Dillon at his locker. Ash and Chad made quite a contrast. Ash was tall and slender, whereas Chad tended towards to the short, chunky side. Ash’s hair was a rich black, cut fairly short and shot through with auburn lights which made his brown eyes seem even darker. Chad was a blue-eyed blond with a buzz cut. Ash was old money, and Chad was no money. Even so, Dillon could count on one hand the times he’d seen one without the other. Hell, they even went out on the weekends screwing girls together: Ash and his girl in the front seat of his BMW, Chad and his girlfriend du jour in the back. Now that was devotion.
Dillon was hoping Jamie would come so he’d have an excuse to leave, but he saw no sign of it. Hell, he’d hoped to squeeze in as much time with Jamie as possible, but it looked like he was gonna have to make small talk with Barnes and Minton, instead. He motioned Chad, who was leaning against Dillon’s locker, out of the way, and fumbled with the lock. “What’s up?” It wasn’t until after he said it, that Dillon noticed how angry Ash looked.
Ash stood with his fists balled, his feet braced, and his spine rigid. “I heard some rumors about you, Carver. I was hoping you might clear ‘em up for me.”
Dillon threw his books inside and slammed the locker door. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Megan and a several others gathering in the hall. An audience. Well, wasn’t that just heaven on a stick.
Dillon leaned one shoulder against the metal door, keeping his voice calm and his posture relaxed. “Rumors, huh? You don’t say.”
“That’s right. Word has it you spent the night at James Walker’s house last night. Considering those are the same clothes you had on yesterday, I’m guessing it’s true.” Ash was doing all the talking, but Chad stood beside him, bobbing his head in agreement every time Ash spoke. He reminded Dillon of those little flocked-plastic dogs people put on the dashes of their cars.
Dillon was the poster boy for who-gives-a-damn, but inside he was seething. Damned if he’d let it show, though. As calmly as if he were discussing the cafeteria’s mystery meat special, Dillon said, “I’d be glad to clear that little rumor up for you, Barnes, but seeing as how it’s none of your business, I don’t think I will.”
Ash stepped closer. “I’m making it my business, Carver. Word’s out that you and Ben Lewis were fighting over James that night at the dance. I also heard that you had lunch with him yesterday.”
Dillon crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you, Barnes? The friendship police? I wasn’t aware that having lunch with a friend or spending the night with a buddy was a crime.”
Ash wasn’t giving up. “Yeah? Well, the way I hear it, you and Walker are a lot more than friends. What’s up, Carver? You fagging out on us?”
Oh, this was just great. Ash was the one who called him about the planned gay bashing at the dance. What was with this homophobic jock routine? Well, to hell with him. Dillon wasn’t going to play his little games. In as clear a voice as he could muster, he said, “No, Barnes, I’m not fagging out on you.”
He heard a noise behind him and turned to see Jamie, his face pale and stricken. Dillon had been about to clarify his last statement, but Jamie didn’t know that. He though Dillon was going to deny him yet again. The spark of anger Dillon had seen last night was now a blazing inferno.
Jamie threw his books on the floor and faced Dillon, not caring that he was six inches shorter and about forty pounds lighter, or that half the school was watching him. He looked so small and so cute, that Dillon would have laughed over the whole damn thing if it weren’t for the look of pain in Jamie’s beautiful eyes.
“So much for coming out, huh, Dillon? Tell me something. Exactly when weren’t you ‘fagging out’? Was it when I was on my knees sucking your cock that you weren’t a fag? Or were you just a straight boy in disguise all those times you fucked me?”
That was it. The whole city of Reed could watch for all he cared, but Dillon was gonna show Jamie how he felt about him once and for all. “I never fucked you.”
Dillon could see the tears forming in Jamie’s eyes. He started to speak, but Dillon put up his hand. “Not yet. You’ve had your say. It’s my turn now.” He turned his back on Barnes and all the rest, using his body to force Jamie backwards until he was up against the lockers, with Dillon in his face. Putting one hand on each side of Jamie’s head so he couldn’t get away, Dillon spoke, his voice loud enough for everyone within twenty feet to hear, his eyes only for Jamie.
“What I was about to say when you walked up, James, was that I wasn’t ‘fagging out’ because that implies that I just woke up one morning and became gay. How can I ‘fag out’ when I’ve known for sure that I was gay for over six years?”
The gasps and whispers behind him following that little announcement reminded Dillon of something you’d hear in a cheesy movie. If they thought that was a shocker, the illustrious student body of Plunkett High hadn’t seen anything, yet.
“And as far as the other part goes, I stand by what I said. I never fucked you, James.” Jamie tried to protest, but again Dillon cut him off. “I was a selfish bastard. I got off on you without ever giving anything back, and for that I’m more sorry that you’ll ever know. Even as lowdown and rotten as I was, though, I never once fucked you. Every time I slid into you, every time you took me into that sweet, tight body of yours, it was making love.” Then Dillon lowered his head and covered Jamie’s mouth with his own.

At first, Jamie was too startled to respond as Dillon’s mouth came down on his. But as Dillon’s tongue began a slow assault against Jamie’s lips in an effort to get them to open, Jamie felt his body--and his resolve--melting. He opened his mouth and gave Dillon entry.
Dillon teased and tasted him until Jamie thought he would go insane. He could feel the bulge in Dillon’s jeans, which didn’t help his own condition any. It was everything a first kiss should have been, audience or not. Just when Jamie was wondering what the punishment for having sex in the school hallway would be, Dillon pulled away. He kissed the tip of Jamie’s nose and whispered, for Jamie’s ears only, “I’m sorry to embarrass you in front of everybody like this, baby, but I couldn’t think of any other way to show you how I felt.” Before Jamie could answer, Dillon straightened up and turned back to Barnes, shielding Jamie with his body.
“Does that answer your questions, Barnes, or do you have some more for me?”
Ash may have been shocked, but quick recovery was one of the things that made him such a hot commodity on the football field. And his temporary shock had made him no less angry. This time, though, his anger was redirected at Jamie. “God, Walker, you’re somethin’ else. Ben isn’t even cold yet and you’ve already moved on. So much for true love I guess.”
Jamie came out from behind Dillon, his eyes blazing. “What would you know about it, Barnes? You barely even knew Ben. If you and those dickwads you call friends ever spoke to him it was to tell him to fuck off or to call him a queer or a fag. Where in the hell do you get off telling me what I’m supposed to feel?”
“Who you calling a dickwad, Walker?” Chad stepped up. He wasn’t any taller than Jamie, but outweighed him by a good sixty pounds, not that Jamie cared. He could take him.
“You, no-neck. I’ve seen you and Rooster Carmichael hassling Ben more than once.”
Chad took a step forward, but once again, Dillon shielded Jamie with his body. Jamie should have been pissed about being protected like a child, but he wasn’t. Knowing that everything Dillon was doing was done because he cared about him so much made all the difference.
Chad took another step towards Jamie, but Dillon’s next words stopped him cold. “Touch him and you’re a dead man, Minton.”
Ash was on that in a second. “Making threats, Carver? Did you make the same kind of threats to Ben? What did you do, warn him off Walker and when he didn’t back away decide to run him down with your car?”
He knew how Ben had died? Sheriff Nash said that information hadn’t been released to the public yet. “How did you know that Ben was hit by a car?”
Ash shrugged. “Everybody knows. It’s all over town.”
Chad came to stand behind Ash. “What you getting at, Walker? You trying to say Ash had something to do with Lewis’s death? You’re the one who’s cheating on his dead boyfriend.”
Dillon started to say something, but Jamie reached in front of himself and squeezed Dillon’s hand. “Ben was never my boyfriend. He was my best friend, and he knew exactly how I felt about Dillon.” Jamie’s voice dropped and fought hard not to tear up. “I loved Ben, and I’ll miss him for the rest of my life, but we were never in love. There’s a big difference.”
Ash snorted. “Yeah, right. That’s why Ben was licking your tonsils at the dance Friday night.”
He might have said more, but the sharp clacking of footsteps sounding down the hall broke them all apart. Principal Morgan took one look at the four of them, squared off in the center of a mass of onlookers and said, “What’s going on here?”
Ash went first, the suck-up. “Nothing, sir. We were just . . . talking.”
Morgan lifted one perfectly shaped eyebrow and put his hand on his Armani clad hip. How the hell did a high school principal afford Armani, anyway. “Talking, huh? Is that what they call it? Looks more like you were settling in for a sparring match to me.” He looked to Jamie. “James, were these boys bothering you?”
God, Jamie wanted to wipe that smug look off Barnes’s face. But he couldn’t do it without getting Dillon in trouble, too. “No, sir. Like he said, we were just talking.”
Morgan made no bones about his lack of belief, but he must have decided to let it slide, because he said, “Fine then.” He addressed the group as a whole. “All of you, show’s over. Get to class.” He waited until all of the onlookers, and Chad and Ash, left before turning back to Dillon and Jamie. “You want to tell me what really happened, James? Off the record, I swear.”
Jamie shook his head. “It was nothing, Mr. Morgan, I promise.”
“If that’s what you tell me, than that’s what I’ll go with, but just remember, if you ever need to talk, you know where to find me.” He waited until Jamie nodded and then took his exit.
As soon as Morgan left, Megan came charging back from her hiding place on the opposite side of the double doors leading to the main hall. She was out of breath and her face was flushed.
“Boy, do you two know how to make a scene or what? I thought Ash Barnes’s eyes were gonna pop out of his skull when you kissed James like that.”
Dillon leaned down to pick up the books Jamie had dropped earlier. Jamie had forgotten all about it, himself, but he was warmed that Dillon was still taking care of him. Dillon handed the books and papers to Jamie, but his words were for Megan. “Barnes isn’t usually such an ass, but I’m glad, at least, that he knows know where I stand.” Dillon reopened his locker and took out his coat. He fished a twenty out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Listen, Megan, I promised James some lunch, but I’ve got something I need to take care of. Would you mind taking him, instead?” He gave Jamie an affectionate smile. “This guy here still doesn’t know how to drive.”
Jamie shook his head. “I can eat in the cafeteria, and I’ve got my own money.”
Dillon closed his locker and put on his coat. “I know that, but I’m gonna ditch for the rest of the day, and I don’t want you to be alone any more than you have to be. And before you start, I know you can take care of yourself.” His eyes grew soft as he looked at Jamie, making Jamie feel strong and alive. “But you had a bad shock yesterday, and even though you’re feeling better, Nate says these things can boomerang on a guy. Please, just do this for me, okay?”
Jamie wasn’t sure what to say, but Megan stepped in so the point became moot. “We’ll go out to lunch, Dillon, and spend every dime of that hard earned money of yours.” Her tone was light, but Jamie could hear a slight quivering in her voice. “And don’t worry about James. I’ll see that he makes it home this afternoon, safe and sound.”
Home. That’s when it hit Jamie. Dillon wasn’t just ditching school. He was going home to pack. When his mother heard about that kiss--and she would, probably any minute now--Dillon would be thrown out of his own home. Dillon hadn’t just proved his feelings to Ash and Chad. He’d outed himself to the whole world.
Jamie moaned. “Oh, God, Dillon. Your parents. I am so, so sorry.”
Dillon came to stand in front of him, using his left hand to brush Jamie’s hair away from his forehead. “Don’t you dare apologize to me. None of this is your fault. I’m gonna go home and pack up so I’ll be ready to leave by the time they get there. My dad will bitch a little bit, but there’s really not anything he can do.” Dillon leaned forward and nuzzled his nose against Jamie’s. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”
“Where will you go. What--”
“Shh. I’ll be fine.”
Jamie was getting desperate. “Let me go with you. I can help.”
Dillon shook his head. “I appreciate that, more than you know, but this is something I have to do by myself.” He kissed Jamie one more time and then took off.
Jamie was devastated. He sank back against the lockers and was doing a slow slide to the floor when Megan grabbed his arm and hauled him back up.
“Oh no, you don’t. First rule of a crisis is ‘deal with it, now--fall apart later.’ And this is a crisis if ever I saw one.”
Jamie nodded. When Megan was right, the girl was right. Dillon needed him too much for him to wuss out now. “I’m hoping you have a plan.”
Megan patted his cheek. “One thing you’ll learn about me, James. I always have a plan.”
* * *
Dillon pulled into the driveway. It was amazing the things a person noticed when he was going home for the last time. The swing hanging from the porch that had a missing slat. The tree he planted for Arbor Day when he was in the fifth grade. And that was just the yard. The interior of the house was no different. When Dillon unlocked the front door and went inside, the creaking of the hinges his father was always after him to oil, coupled with the smell--that smell that was unique to every home, everywhere--was almost enough to make him want to take it all back. But the taste of Jamie, still fresh on his lips, the feel of him, the scent of his hair, was more than enough compensation. Pastor Oakley once preached about that verse from the Bible, “What does it profit a man to gain the whole world and lose his own soul?” At the time, Dillon hadn’t understood, but now he thought he did, only in reverse. He was about to lose everything, the whole world as he knew it. But it didn’t matter. He was getting his soul back. As long as he had Jamie, he could do this. Even though they weren’t technically together again, yet, the last two days had given him hope, something he hadn’t felt for a long time.
The actual packing itself didn’t take long. He’d stopped at a fast food place on the way home and gotten some boxes. He emptied drawers, closets, and shelves, not lost to the irony that his entire worldly goods fit into six large boxes labeled Happy Time Burger Palace. The Place Where Happy Smiles Stretch A Mile.
When he was sure he had everything he wanted to keep, Dillon loaded up his car. It took some doing, but he was able to cram it all in there. Thank goodness he wasn’t a packrat like his brother. It had taken a moving van to get Heath out of the house. Funny, all it took to get Dillon out was one kiss and six boxes.
When he was finished, Dillon moved his car from the driveway to the street and locked it, just in case his dad tried to block him in or stop him from leaving. Not that he would. Dillon was pretty sure Doug Carver would be all too happy to shed himself of his “deviant” son. That done, Dillon came back in and sat down on the couch in the living room to wait. He didn’t have to wait long.
At four thirty, he heard his mother’s car come tearing into the drive. She must have phoned his father from school, because Dillon heard his dad’s Jeep pull in right behind her. Time to face the firing squad.
Angela came in first. Her hair was mussed and Dillon could tell she’d been crying. He might have felt guilty, if not for the first words that came out of her mouth. “Thank God you’re here. I know all about that Walker boy attacking you in the hallway, son. We’re gonna see him prosecuted for trying to molest you like that.”
Doug was in full agreement as he slammed the door behind himself and motioned for Dillon to stand. “Get your coat, Dillon. We’ll go down to the police station right now and press charges. We’re going to the city cops, too. No use in trying to get any help from that pansy sheriff. We’re going to bust Walker for trying to force himself on you.”
Dillon stood up, but made no move towards his coat. “You’ve got it backwards. I’m the one who kissed James, not the other way around.”
“Nonsense. Now, you get your coat right this minute, and your mother and I may be willing to forgive you for your insolence last night and that lie you’re spinning right now.”
“It’s not a lie. I kissed James. I can get any number of people to back up my story. How do you think Mom heard about it? Dozens of witnesses saw me back him up against the lockers and stick my--”
“Stop it!” His father’s face was turning a mottled red as he tugged against his shirt and tie. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, son, but I will not have that kind of filth talked about in my house.”
Angela went in search of the phone book, finally finding it in a side table drawer. Flipping through, she said, “I’ll tell you what’s gotten into him. That James Walker has lured him into this. What we need now, Doug, is to cancel out his influence. A friend of mine told me about a good doctor just outside Chicago who’s excellent at deprogramming kids who’ve been brainwashed like this.”
Brainwashed? Good God. “Mom, I don’t need to be deprogrammed. I’m gay, not a cult member.”
Doug snorted. “Same difference. I warned you what would happen if you kept hanging around that damned Nash family. Every last one of them is going to hell for sanctioning that sham marriage between Brandon Nash and that doctor of his. What did those two do, son? Get you alone and play around with you a little?”
Angela warmed to the idea. “That’s it. Instead of calling the doctor we should call the police, but for Nathan and Brandon Nash instead of James Walker. Dillon just turned eighteen, which means he was probably a minor when it happened. We could have the Nash’s arrested for raping him.”
Dillon could feel himself starting to lose control. He did his best to rein it in. “No one did anything to me. Neither Brandon nor Nathan Nash would ever touch me. And like I said, I kissed Jamie because I wanted to. I’ve been wanting to for years.”
Doug took his coat off and slapped it down on the coffee table. “I’ll not stand here and listen to my son talk about being a damned . . . a worthless . . .”
“A what, Dad? What is it you usually call us? Poofs? Queers? Sodomites? I don’t think there’s one I haven’t heard yet.”
Doug was so mad his eyes were bulging, but Angela wasn’t ready to give up the whole coercion theory. “Honey, these feelings you’re having aren’t real. This is James Walker’s fault, all of it. He has you in thrall, darling. He’s responsible for this . . . this,” try as she might, she couldn’t seem to find the right words.
Dillon knew exactly what to say. Listening to his parents stand there and slam Jamie like he was some evil guru was taking its toll. “What’s the word you’re looking for, Mom? You insist James is responsible for my being gay, so let’s think up a good word for that. Metamorphosis? Nah, too much like a butterfly, and those are beautiful, whereas us sinners are ugly. How about ‘the change?’”
Doug’s voice was solid steel. “Stop it.”
But Dillon was beyond listening. “You’re right. The change sounds too much like a female thing. We homos may be girlie boys, but not quite that girlie, huh, Dad? I’ve got it. How about ‘gayification?’ As in, ‘James is responsible for my ‘gayification.’ Wonder if they make a repellent for that? You know, some spray that keeps all those gay germs at bay. Something like, ‘Gay be Gone,’ or ‘Gay Away.’”