William Matheson and Theo Bascopolis have settled into married life, and of course, with marriage comes kids. Bear, their first son, Myles, who was born second, and Sophia, their youngest and only daughter. Wills loves them all, but he loves Myles, who has Theo’s red hair and light brown eyes, just a little bit more, although he’ll never admit it.
Myles has a secret he’s afraid to tell his Dad and Poppa. Oh, not that he’s gay -- since his parents are, that’s no big deal in their household. But he loves the feel of silk and satin against his skin, and he’s been slipping his sister’s panties into his own underwear drawer.
However, parents aren’t as clueless as their kids think, and Wills and Theo are both aware. They’re just waiting for their son to feel comfortable enough to tell them.
There are others, though, who aren’t as accepting. How will Myles react to a boyfriend making fun of him, and how will Wills, now a senior director in the WBIS and definitely not someone to toy with, deal with those who decide to mock his beloved son?
I waited, but he couldn’t seem to find any words. “When Poppa was ... Jesus, he’d just turned fifteen, so he was even younger than you, Papou found out he was gay. He threw Poppa out with only what he wore and nothing else, and if he had a couple of bucks in his wallet, that was a lot. Did you ever wonder why we warn you not to talk to strange men?”
“We ... to tell the truth, we just thought you were being overprotective.”
I shook my head. Kids. They never think anything will happen to them. “Poppa had nowhere to go. He was sitting at a bus stop wondering what the hell was going to happen to him. A man approached him. He was goodlooking and seemed to have kind eyes. He started talking to Poppa, complimented him, offered to buy him dinner.”
“Did Poppa go with him?”
“Yeah. Like I said, he didn’t have anywhere else to go. And frankly, he was flattered. Here was this adult who actually listened to what he had to say and didn’t treat him like a kid. To a fifteen-year-old as sheltered as Poppa had been, it was like all the romance movies Yia Yia loves to watch.”
Myles smiled, although it was watery. “Yeah, she does love those Hallmark movies.” He grabbed another tissue and wiped his eyes.
“Anyway, they were together for a while. Poppa thought the man loved him. He was positive he loved the man. So when the man came home one night, upset about not having money to pay the rent or buy them food, Poppa wanted to comfort him. He told the man he’d get a job, but the man said it wouldn’t be enough -- they’d be homeless. He had an idea though.”
Once again, Myles turned white, as if he could guess. Still, he made himself ask, “What ... what was his idea?”
“Poppa could be nice to one of the man’s friends. Poppa didn’t want to, he didn’t like the son of a bitch, was scared of him, and he didn’t understand how the man --” I’d be damned if I mentioned his name to my son. “-- could ask him to be intimate with someone else. But the man said if Poppa really loved him, he’d do that to help them both out. And it would just be the one time.” I scrubbed my face.
“So Poppa slept with the man’s friend?”
“Yeah. And of course it wasn’t just the one time. If Poppa tried to refuse, the man hurt him.”
“Why didn’t Poppa leave?”
“Because at first, the next day, the man would cry, say he was sorry, beg Poppa to forgive him. He’d buy him pretty presents.”
“Oh.”
“You have to remember -- Poppa wasn’t even sixteen yet.” I drew in a shuddering breath. “So he stayed.”
“He ... he didn’t think it would be better to go home?”
“Papou told him to never come home if he couldn’t stop being gay.” It was true, and I had no hesitation in throwing Theo’s father under the bus. It was the least he deserved after what his stupidity had cost his son.
“How did Poppa wind up here in DC?” He knew this was where we’d met.
“There was an accident --” I would not tell my son his poppa thought he’d killed the bastard. “-- and Poppa thought the man was dead. There were too many of the man’s friends who’d grab Poppa and make him work for them.”
“Especially the one he was afraid of?”
I inhaled. “Yeah, especially him. So Poppa ran away. He wound up here and met some other boys who’d been thrown out by their families or who’d aged out of the foster system, and they made their own family. They all did what they had to do to survive, and once they were able to get an education and make some money, they got out of the business.” I could see he was curious. “Don’t ask me who they are.”
“Do you know them?”
“I do, but those are their stories to tell.”
“You said Poppa thought the man was dead. Did he ever pay for what he did?”
“Yeah.” I grinned, a hard expression my son had never seen. “I went down to Tarpon Springs, I found him, and I killed him.”
“You didn’t ...” Then he gave a half-hearted grin. “You’re just telling me a story.”
“Does it matter?” I shrugged. “Poppa’s not proud of what he had to do, but he did what he did.”
