My Father's Lover Read online

  “Want me to convince him to come back?” Michael asked Anthony as he stood in the bedroom that Jason had just vacated.

  Anthony didn’t reply.

  “You’ll have to use your hand more, that’s all,” Michael muttered under his breath.

  Anthony reached out and grabbed his forearm. “What did you say?”

  “You heard me.” Michael dragged his arm away. “Don’t think I didn’t know you were fucking Jason.”

  Anthony’s mouth fell open.

  “Don’t play innocent little boy with me.”

  “I never fucked Jason.”

  “Bullshit. One time I came downstairs and he had you pinned against the wall. I know what I saw.”

  Anthony narrowed his eyes. “I don’t care what you saw. I never fucked Jason.”

  “You’re a liar.”

  “Ask him, then.” Anthony dug out his cell phone and shoved it at him. “Call him, and ask him.”

  Michael stared at the phone, then, he looked at Anthony. He realised that he was telling the truth. “I thought that…”

  “You thought wrong,” he muttered, and brushed past him.

  Michael sighed. He closed his eyes. After a few seconds, he left the room and went in search of him. “You know,” he said, when he found him sitting outside in the backyard beside the pool, “for someone you weren’t fucking, you seem mighty upset that he’s gone.”

  Anthony let his head go back against the chair. He rolled his head from side to side. “Michael, enough. Jason is like my brother.”

  Michael waited, folding his arms across his chest.

  Anthony lifted his head. “You’re not going to let this thing die, are you?” He stood up.

  “Just what is the nature of your relationship?”

  Anthony placed his hands on his hips. “Now you sound like a lawyer. Well, I’m telling you something honey, you’re no lawyer, and I’m no suspect.” He glanced at the pool. “The only suspicious thing here is your unwavering quest to find me fucking somebody. The truth is, I’m not fucking anyone, and isn’t that a shame?”

  Michael lips quivered a little. “It is, rather.” He ran his gaze over him. He licked his lips.

  “Horny?” Anthony asked him softly.

  “Just warm.”

  “Well then I suggest you --” He reached over for him, and then swung him around in the direction of the pool. “-- cool off!”

  Michael couldn’t believe it when he went flying into the pool. He heard Anthony’s deep laughter as he walked back into the house. He swore, and scrambled out, sloshing into the house. “Anthony.” By the time he had gotten to the front of the house, he heard his car drive out of the garage. He watched it disappear up the road, shouting in frustration.

  With Jason gone, it meant that he and Anthony were truly alone together. Michael was more than aware that Anthony slept by himself down the hallway. Sometimes he ran into him at night when both of them were half dressed, and half asleep, and that was rough. There were nights that Michael couldn’t sleep after those encounters. Then there were the other nights when Anthony didn’t come home at all. That was worse.

  Michael would pace the floor, imagining all the things he believed he was doing with other men. Then when Anthony would come home in the wee hours of the morning, Michael would run and get into bed, holding his breath as he heard him walk down the hall. He ached for that door to open, for Anthony to walk in, crawl into bed with him. He never did. Either he had great control, didn’t give a shit, or was getting it elsewhere, probably all three. He’d had his chance, and he’d blown it.

  * * * * *

  Michael walked into the living room one afternoon and saw Anthony standing there looking blankly out the window.

  “Hey,” Michael said. “What’s up?”

  “I’ve tried. I’ve tried to forget about this.”

  For a minute, Michael thought he was talking about them. “Oh, Anthony, I know what you mean,” he said, coming closer. “I…”

  He turned and looked at him. “I’ve got to do this thing. I can’t bear the thought that those guys are still walking around free, while Michael is in the ground. It’s not right.”

  “You’re talking about my father.”

  “Yeah. What did you think I was talking about?”

  “Nothing.” He shook his head. “If you know something, maybe you should tell the police.”

  “I did. It didn’t do any good. They say they didn’t have enough proof.”

  He felt his sadness. He felt his own sadness. He walked over to Anthony. He slipped his arms around his waist and put his head on his chest. For the longest time, he stood there like that, holding him.

  Anthony kissed the top of his head, then, stepped away from him. Michael looked at him. “You know I’m going out of my mind, don’t you?”

  Anthony didn’t reply.

  “How long are you going to make me suffer like this?”

  “I’m not doing this to make you suffer, Michael. It’s better if we just try to be friends.”

  “Who said?”

  “It’s too messy.”

  “Why do you get to be the one to decide?”

  Anthony sighed. He turned away.

  “No, wait.” Michael said, taking his arm. “Please. Don’t walk away from me. I know there has been a lot of misunderstanding between us. It’s been a trying time but…”

  “Things are not clear for me right now. There’s a lot going on in my head,” Anthony said. “Loving you just confuses things.”

  “Maybe loving me is just what you need to…”

  “No. Look, I know where you sleep. I picture you there often enough. If I can’t fight the temptation one night, well…”

  “Well, fuck you. You might just find my door locked in your hour of need.”

  Anthony shook his head. “Fine. I’ll have to take my chances.”

  “You’re a cold, unfeeling son of a bitch!”

  Anthony’s eyes widened.

  “Let’s leave it like this. We’ll be civil, but we fuck who we want, when we want.”

  “Not in the house,” Anthony said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I…just don’t bring them home.”

  Michael watched him walk away. He wanted to hit him, throw something at that hard head of his. He wanted to shout out loud, I think I love you. Damn you, Anthony. I love you.

  * * * * *

  Two nights later, when Anthony didn’t show up for work at the club, Michael panicked. He literally gave Jason the third degree. “So, where is he, exactly?” Michael asked Jason again as he stood watching him wipe the glasses at the bar.

  “I told you --” Jason glanced at him. “-- I don’t know. He said for you to run things, that maybe he’d be late. I told you a long time ago that I was worried. You could have talked to him about…”

  Michael tuned him out. He glanced around the room, looking for Lou. It was too early. There were only a handful of people getting an early start on drinking. He put a hand on Maria’s arm as she walked by with a tray of drinks. “Maria, the minute you see Lou come in, let me know okay?”

  “Sure thing,” she said, continuing on to the table.

  He walked into the dressing room and checked on Hollio, Juan, Karl, and Ron. They seemed all right, although they asked where Anthony was too. “He’ll be here later,” Michael said absently, then went out in the corridor and pulled out his cell phone. He dialed Anthony’s cell, and got his voicemail. He hung up. He was worried.

  * * * * *

  Anthony watched as the guy racked up the balls again. Anthony had already beaten him twice but the guy was determined to win. Anthony waited patiently, lazily glancing around the tavern, watching the door. “So,” Anthony said, “you say this guy Bosco comes in often?”

  “Yeah,” he replied, glancing up from the table. “I told you, he’ll be around. So what’s the deal with you and Bosco?”

  “No deal. We have a mutual friend, that’s all.”

&
nbsp; The guy missed. He swore loudly, then, gave Anthony a toothy grin. “Your turn, man. Shit, I’m losing my shirt here.”

  Anthony made the shot easily. Daniel had been an ace pool player and he’d taught him the game when he was a teenager. They’d spent a lot of time playing pool together. This was like taking candy from a baby.

  When the one called Bosco finally walked in the door, the guy he was playing with said, “There’s your boy.”

  Anthony’s knuckles tightened on the pool cue. Bosco was short and stocky with greasy black hair. He checked his watch, and took a deep breath. He told himself to be patient. It was almost seven o’clock. He’d wasted almost three hours playing pool with this idiot. It wouldn’t do for it to be all over in five minutes.

  “Hey, Bosco,” the pool player called out, “someone over here who wants to meet you.”

  Anthony stood back against the wall, a smile plastered on his face. Yeah, I want to meet you. I want to meet you bad.

  * * * * *

  Bosco was stoned, and a few times he slapped Anthony on the back, then eventually put his hand on his knee. Anthony pushed his hand away, wondering how in the hell he was going to lure him away from the bar. Over the past few hours, several of Bosco’s friends had arrived, a serious bunch of degenerate losers. Anthony was trying to figure out which ones could have been with Bosco the night that Michael died. He started buying drinks for all of them, then, he said, “You know what I hate worse than anything? Fags, man, cock sucking fags.”

  * * * * *

  When Michael came out of the stock room around ten o’clock, he spotted Lou hunched over the bar talking to Jason. He looked anxious about something. Michael walked over to the bar and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around and met Michael’s gaze. “Where’s Anthony?” he asked before Michael had the opportunity to open his mouth.

  “I don’t know. I was just about to ask you the same thing. Can we talk privately?”

  Lou followed Michael into the office. “Lou,” Michael said, not sure how comfortable he felt addressing this big guy by his first name, “did you give Anthony information about the guys who killed my father?”

  He nodded. “I gave him an address. I didn’t want to. When I came in tonight and didn’t see him, I knew I’d made a mistake. He’s got a gun.”

  “Gun?” Michael gasped.

  “Yeah. I got him a gun awhile back. He said Michael wanted to have one at the club locked in the safe in case of trouble.”

  “Jesus Christ.” Michael started to panic. “Do you think he took the gun with him? Where in hell did he go?”

  “I’m pretty sure he’s gone to South Central.”

  “South Central? Why South Central?”

  “There’s a bar there where one of the guys who was involved with the beating hangs out.”

  Michael swallowed. “It’s rough there, in that part of L.A., isn’t it? What if he gets hurt and…?”

  “Listen, Anthony can handle himself. Believe me, I’ve seen him do it. I’ve seen him throw a guy my size across this room when he was harassing the entertainers. It’s not that. It’s the gun I’m worried about. He could shoot someone in his state. I’m going to go after him. He’s going to be pissed but…”

  “I’m going with you.”

  Lou eyed him. “I don’t think you…”

  “I’m going with you,” Michael insisted. Hastily he walked over to Jason at the bar, and told him he was in charge.

  “What’s happening?” Jason demanded anxiously. “Where’s Anthony?”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to him.”

  * * * * *

  It wasn’t easy for Anthony to sit there and listen to the filth coming out of these guys’ mouths. He was biding his time, biding his time until one of them started bragging about the beating they’d given some queer. He knew it would happen, and it did. It wasn’t Bosco who did the bragging. He was slightly smarter than the others, and he was closemouthed. But there was one, a disgusting, ugly son of a bitch who had a habit of spitting gobs of something on the floor every five minutes, who couldn’t wait to give everyone a play by play of that night.

  “He was a real sissy, liked to dress in women’s clothes. He came out of some club one night and we gave it to him good, didn’t we Bosco?”

  Bosco snarled at him. “Shut the fuck up, Deluca, you don’t know shit for nothing.”

  But Deluca didn’t shut up. He kept right on talking, causing Anthony to have to turn away for a minute to gain control of his emotions. Anthony leaned over and said in Deluca’s ear, “Let’s go outside man, in the back. I got some real good shit. Tell Bosco to come too. He’s okay, but not the others. I don’t have enough for everybody. I’ll wait for you. Try not to let the others know. Pretend you got to go to the can.” He stood up.

  Deluca nodded at him slyly, and Anthony made his way outside. He shoved his hands in his pockets, and glanced up at the moon. “Don’t worry, Michael,” he said aloud, swallowing a lump in his throat. “Tonight they’re going to pay.”

  * * * * *

  “Can’t you make this thing go any faster?” Michael complained as Lou barely made it through a red light.

  “You don’t want to get stopped, do you?”

  “No, but shit,” Michael said, looking around him at the squalor of the downtown slums. “Damn, human beings shouldn’t have to live like this.”

  “Yeah, and the government wonders why there’s crime. So, what’s with you and Anthony?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I’ve been watching the two of you. Are you doing him?”

  Michael didn’t quite know what to say. “First of all, it isn’t any of your business, and second…”

  “It is my business. If you’re damn fool enough not to go for it, then maybe I got a chance.”

  “You?”

  “Yeah. I may not have a lot to offer in the looks department but I can give him everything he wants.”

  “He’s pretty well set up. He doesn’t need anything you got.”

  Lou laughed. “Well, I just got my answer.”

  “What?”

  “You don’t want to share. Can’t say I blame you.”

  “Look, Lou. Anthony and I…”

  “You’re nuts about the guy, and you know how I know? ’Cause right now you’re shitting your pants with worry.”

  Michael fell quiet. He had that right.

  * * * * *

  Bosco and Deluca were really stoned now. They couldn’t stop laughing. Anthony could feel the sweat roll down his face even though the evening was fairly cool. He fingered the gun in his pocket. The laughter was beginning to grate on him. When he pointed the gun at them, they laughed even harder, too far gone to realise the gravity of the situation. He regretted that. He wanted them to feel the fear. “Get on your knees,” he said between clenched teeth.

  “Come on man --” Bosco choked he was laughing so hard. “-- lighten up. What cha’ going to do with that gun, shoot us?”

  Anthony didn’t smile. In fact his face was a cold mask of hate.

  Deluca seemed to sober. “Hey ah…Bosco, he’s serious, man. What gives?”

  “Get on your fucking knees,” Anthony insisted, his chest heaving with restrained hatred.

  Deluca fell on his knees, pulling Bosco with him. They both looked up at him now, confused.

  “I bet you don’t even know his name. His name was Michael, Michael Fulton, and he was only thirty-nine years old.”

  Bosco looked at Deluca and back at Anthony. It was clear that he didn’t know who he was talking about.

  “He was a female impersonator, a very talented one, and a man with the biggest heart in the…” His voice faltered. There was the dawn of recognition in Bosco’s eyes. “He was a fag, a queer like me…and like you.” Anthony pierced him with his gaze, moving the gun closer.

  “I’m no fag man. I’m…” Bosco began to protest. “And he deserved what he got. He…”

  “Shut up,”
Anthony said, grabbing Bosco by the hair and dragging him out onto the pavement. “You took everything from me, the only family I had left, and now you fucking, cock-sucking closet queen, you’re going to pay.” Anthony swung the gun at Bosco, hitting him in the head. The blood began to run down his forehead. Deluca got up, prepared to escape.

  A voice shouted out now in the stillness of the night. “Anthony, no!”

  Anthony froze. He turned around to see Michael standing there in the alley, Lou’s hulking form beside him.

  “He’s not worth it,” Michael said, running up to him. “Please.”

  “I’ll take care of him for you, Anthony,” Lou said. “No one will ever find the body.”

  The guy on the ground began to beg. “I’m sorry, man. I’m sorry,” he blubbered.

  Deluca began to creep toward the side door, but Lou rushed over and grabbed him by the shirt collar and held him in one hand. “Let me take care of both of them. It will be my pleasure.”

  “Give me the gun, Anthony,” Michael urged. His heart was hammering in his ribs. He was so scared. “Please.”

  “This is the man who killed your father. Don’t you care?” Anthony demanded, tears and sweat mixing together on his face. He was shaking.

  “Yes, I care.” Michael pulled the gun out of his hand. “But my father wouldn’t want you to sacrifice your life for this piece of…” Michael paused, glancing down at the pathetic man who was still crying and pleading for his life. He felt the bile rise to his throat. “You plead now, you asshole, but did you show my father any mercy when you beat him to death?”

  Bosco lowered his head, sobbing.

  “You’re not crying because you killed an innocent man. You sleep fine at night. You’re crying because you’re afraid to die.” Michael looked at the gun in his hand, and he pointed it at Bosco. He felt his finger shaking, pressing lightly against the trigger, then, Anthony’s hand covered his, holding his hand steady.

  Michael looked into Anthony’s eyes. “I never knew him. He died like a dog in the streets, and I never knew him at all.” Michael held onto the gun. Anthony turned him around so that if the gun went off, it would hit the side of the building.

  “What do you want me to do with the garbage, Anthony?” Lou asked him. “You tell me, baby, and I’ll do it.”