Bad Boy 5 Page 9

“Whatever you want, baby. Johnny and I are just going to play checkers and whenever you’re ready, let me know.”

  “Sure, thing,” Peter said collapsing on the couch. He knew this wasn’t the end of it, but he’d given his all and though he had no idea what they’d do from this moment on, he just wanted to go to sleep and forget about the whole thing.

  He closed his eyes, his mind drifting off and his eyes getting heavy as he listened to Johnny squeal with delight while playing checkers with his father.

  Peter loved the sound of the two of them together and for the first time, didn’t feel like they were just father and son, he felt like they were a family, his family.

  ***

  “They said what?” Peter asked, rubbing his groggy eyes as Chip poured him some sparkling grape juice and turned the volume up on the news. The broadcast, a national one was interviewing perfect people on the street and their reaction to Peter’s interview was stunning.

  “What did you think of the Peter Vanderbilt interview?” the off-camera journalist said.

  “I think he should be able to do whatever he wants to do in his own time,” a black woman from Louisiana said. “Whatever floats your boat,” she shrugged.

  “Well, I don’t know. Seems like this is America,” a country hick-looking man spitting tobacco out of the side of his mouth responded, “It ain’t Iraq.”

  “I think he’s kinda cute,” a blonde girl from L.A. responded, “Wish I could watch him do those massages myself.” She tittered behind a hand, her face flushing in a hot blush.

  Peter and Chip laughed their asses off. “Son, go to your room and play. This is for grown ups.”

  “Okay, daddy,” Johnny answered doing what he was told without arguing for once.

  “Told you everything would be fine,” Chip said.

  “Yeah, well… still won’t get me my job back.” Peter said, sighing.

  “No, well, we’ll get you another job, a better job. We’ll figure it out. This is just a first step.” Chip encouraged. He squeezed Peter’s shoulders and pulled him closer, “Come here baby.”

  Peter smiled. Chip was right, it was nice to hear someone for once that wasn’t judging him and though he knew that not all of America might feel this way, it was a start and he could feel his confidence starting to build again.

  “So, what’s next?” Chip asked.

  “Well, I don’t want to do any more interviews, that’s for sure. I guess, I just have to figure out how I can turn this into a positive. Maybe I’ll end up being a spokesperson for sex toys,” Peter joked.

  Chip busted out laughing, “So long as they give us a few to try out on our own.”

  “That sounds good to me, actually,” Peter said, kissing Chip.

  Maybe things weren’t quite so bad as he thought. Maybe things really were going to get better and though he couldn’t quite figure out how he was going to make a living, Chip had assured him that he had a lot in savings to tie them over until they figure it out. Either way, at least he had him and Oregon was sounding even better.

  Las Vegas had been good to him, it’s where he truly became an adult but it was also dry there in so many ways than he could imagine. It sometimes lacked inspiration and creativity and though he’d miss the students he taught and hated that he didn’t get to say “goodbye” to them before he left, he trusted somehow everything would work out. They had a long road in front of them and he only hoped that they wouldn’t be faced with as big of choice, nor mistake as he had. But life had a funny way of throwing curve balls at you when you least expected it and all he could do was pray they’d be okay and one day they’d find someone who would love them unconditionally as much as Chip had.

  ***

  Days went by and days turned into weeks and soon, the news story seemed to die down. Some other scandal was looming any day now, Peter knew, it was only a matter of time and soon, people would say say “Peter Vanderbilt who?” which ironically sounded good to Peter. He wanted things to resume some resemblance of what they were. Peter had made some headway on jobs in Oregon, had kicked some tires. He hadn’t used his real name, just in case but based on his conversations with private schools and families looking for private tutors, he was hopeful.

  Chip too had made a few phone calls but the more he thought about it, he told Peter, the more he had an interest in setting up his own business than working for “the man”. A security business or more accurately a bodyguard business was what Chip said he had his heart on and though Oregon wasn’t exactly crawling with movie stars, Peter encouraged him and said the state had its fair share of millionaires and visiting politicians that were always looking for protection.

  “Besides, you can always protect me,” Peter teased. He knew Chip liked when he talked like that. He knew he liked being by his side, no matter what. He believed him now.

  That is, until that day.

  Peter could remember that day as if it were yesterday, he’d just made his second attempt at dinner and though it wasn’t exactly a 5-star meal it was spaghetti and a step above Chef Boyardee also. It was better than his attempt at burned eggs. He’d set the table for when Chip came home with Johnny so everything would be ready.

  Chip said he’d received a message from a buddy who wanted to meet him up for a few minutes, some other opportunity that looked hopeful and would return shortly. Two hours past and Chip still hadn’t come home and Peter tried not to let it bother or worry him. It wasn't like Chip, though. He tended to be to the minute punctual, that was one of the things that Peter loved about him, always reliable. But that night something felt off.

  Peter had sat down in front of the TV, exhausted from cooking and had nodded off when he heard the familiar sound of Chip’s keys jangling. He shot up, blinking his eyes open and smiled as Chip entered with Johnny.

  “Hi, Peter!” Johnny said.

  “Son, go play in your room. Okay?” Chip said, barely looking at Peter as he entered.

  “Now?” Johnny said.

  “Don’t make me repeat myself,” Chip said and Johnny gasped, running off immediately.

  Peter smiled, “Uh-oh, somebody grumpy?” He tried to lighten the mood with a little levity.

  He tried to giving Chip a kiss but he turned the other way as Peter’s lips grazed across his cheek.

  “You cool?” Peter asked. Worry made his heart skip a beat. It wasn’t like Chip to refuse affection. In fact, he couldn’t remember him ever doing that before.

  “Uh, yeah, just tired.” Chip said, taking off his jacket, and then his shoes.

  “All right, baby. Well, I made something for you. It’s a little cold but-” Peter started to say.

  “Maybe later?” Chip said. “Just wanna lie down and-”

  “No, sure. I can put it away. Maybe Johnny wants some now.” Peter said, feeling the tension that went beyond just being cranky.

  “He ate at McDonald’s,” Chip cut him off. “Doubt he’s hungry.”

  “Oh ... well. I thought I said I was preparing something,” Peter said, a little irritated about the time he’d spent but even more than that, hurt.

  “Well,” Chip started to say then sighed, “Fuck it. I think we should talk.”

  “Sure, what’s wrong?” Peter said, not liking the tone of Chip’s voice.

  He took another short breath and said, “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and I think I’m going to take Johnny up to my parents for while, just to … you know spend some time there.”

  Peter didn’t like the way he said that. It rattled him. Hurt him. He didn’t like what he implied with his tense words and it scared him.

  “Sure, we can go there but I’m not sure if-”

  “I mean, alone, just me and him.” Chip wouldn’t look at him.

  “What? Why?” Peter asked confused. It was happening, he thought, fear making him tremble. His worst nightmare was coming true. He couldn’t think of anything he’d done to deserve this.

  Chip cleared his throat and looked at Peter completely without expr
ession. “I just think that’s best, that’s all.”

  “Is there something I need to know about, something you’re not telling me?” Peter asked. His callousness was hurting him deeply.

  “I didn’t know I needed to explain myself or what I do with my son to anyone,” he said. There was a dark look in his eye that Peter had never seen before. It made his throat go dry and his stomach hurt.

  “Well, yeah, I mean no but … What’s happened to you? Why are you acting so-?”

  “So, what?” he cut him off.

  “So … different … so cold.”

  “Look, if you don’t like the way I do things, maybe you should just go,” he said, gesturing to the door. Peter followed his gesture, his eyes wide.

  “Excuse me?” Peter said, shocked by his behavior, “Go?”

  “Yeah, just get your shit and go if you don’t like it,” he answered.

  Peter didn’t know if he should cry or punch a wall, this didn’t seem like the loving caring Chip he knew, not the man who ran out a couple of hours ago and gave him a passionate kiss. It was as if someone had stolen his soul and heart and replaced it with someone else. It seemed more than just out of character, it just wasn’t the man he knew at all.

  “Well, if that’s what you think is best,” Peter mumbled turning away. He didn’t know where to begin, what to grab exactly nor where he would go for that evening.

  “Yeah, I do and … Peter, maybe it’s best that we … I’ll call you when I’m ready for us to talk.”

  “What the fuck, Chip?!” Peter snapped. “What’s gotten into you, tonight?” His heart was breaking and his eyes filled with hot, stinging tears. Why was this happening? He didn’t, couldn’t understand.

  “Nothing. It’s my house and I can do whatever you want.” Chip said, raising his voice.

  “You said this was our house. You said this was our family.”

  “Do you pay rent here? Is that your child?” Chip said.

  “Fuck you,” Peter said, grabbing his jacket. “I’ll come for my stuff later.”

  “Daddy?” Johnny said, coming out of nowhere.

  “Son, go to bed.” Chip said trying to sound calmer.

  “Where’s Peter going? Where are you going, Peter?” Johnny asked, pouting.

  “I … I’ll see you later, kid. Okay,” Peter said, crouching down and giving him a hug. His chest ached. He didn’t want to let Johnny go. Not now. Not ever.

  “Are you running away?” Johnny asked.

  “No, honey, I’m … I’m going to go on a little vacation for awhile and you and your daddy are going to visit your grandparents.” He tried to sound upbeat, but it was so hard.

  “But I want to go with you,” Johnny said, rubbing his tear-filled eyes.

  Peter looked up at Chip, betrayal and hurt in his eyes. Why? Why, he wanted to know.

  “Son,” Chip said. Peter looked up at him, he could tell how hard it was for Chip to do. Something was going on here, something Chip didn’t want to tell him but Peter wasn’t sure if he wanted to stick around to find out anything else, not with the way that Chip treated him.

  “I want to go with Peter!” Johnny screamed.

  “Son, don’t yell in the house,” Chip said, pressing down on his shoulder.

  “No!” Johnny said, clinging to Peter.

  Peter tried to pull him off gently, “Johnny, it’s okay. I’m going to come back. I’m going to see you.”

  “When?” Johnny asked pouting, sniffing back more tears.

  “Soon, I’m sure,” Peter said, looking to Chip for the answer.

  “You’re going to go away and never come back just like my daddy did!” Johnny said. And with that, he stamped on Peter’s toe and said, “I hate you!”

  “Johnny!” Chip called after him but he was long gone in his bedroom closet. It hurt Peter like fuck to have Johnny think that he’d abandon him. And it hurt even worse that Chip was driving him away and he didn’t know why.

  He could barely look at Chip as he opened the door.

  “Peter,” Chip called after him.

  Peter turned around, hoping that Chip would somehow apologize, call him into his arms and they’d be a family again but instead, Chip said, “I’ll … call you.”

  Peter didn’t even bother responding. He just shuffled out the door and shut it softly. The click that he swore he’d never hear again. The click that meant he closed the door on a perfectly good relationship, one he thought would last forever.

  Chip was the last person he’d ever expected would do this and so instantaneously, so unceremoniously. It just wasn’t like him and though Peter knew, as he walked down the street in search of his car, that analyzing the whole thing wouldn’t make it even a little bit better, he couldn’t help himself.

  He slammed the car door shut and revved up the engine, he blasted music on his mp3 player as if to drown out his thoughts. He shifted his car into the next gear and peeled out of the street and round the corner.

  Moving faster and faster, his pedal to the medal. He didn’t care if he’d get pulled over by a cop. He almost wanted to. Right now, he just wanted to drive and keep on driving until he ran out of gas. He headed toward Red Rock since it was one of his favorite places to find solace. It was also not far from where they found his roommate Anton’s body but it was the only place he could think of going besides going to some casino and getting fucking drunk.

  He wished he had some weed so he could get stoned out of his mind and just forget about everything but he wouldn’t know the first place to get it and besides, he hadn’t done that since he was in high school.

  He drove as fast and furious as he could swerving around the occasional car, that was trailing along the freeway this time of night. He didn’t care, so long as he didn’t hurt anyone. It felt like he held his breath the whole way until he drove as far as he possibly could go, pulled over, parked, locked the doors and walked out into the desert.

  That’s when it hit him what had happened. His legs became like Jell-o first. He just stumbled along over the sagebrush and rocks but then, he couldn’t move anymore at all. The first wave of tears were the hardest. They felt like he was purging after a long hangover, his body throbbed and convulsed.

  He was alone, just him, the wildlife and surrounded by the red rock and deafening silence. He screamed out, “Why?”

  Tony had kept his last promise after all. He was alone. His family didn’t want him anymore. He felt so lost and sad.

  Hadn’t he gone through enough? Didn’t God see that? If there was a God, he must have been a cruel one, Peter thought, kicking him while he was down, toying with his emotions. Just when he’d finally found someone he thought would support him through anything, stay with him no matter what, someone that cared for him and loved him and made love to him like no one ever had before, God yanked him away.

  Hadn’t he been punished enough for his choice? Yes, he fucked up. He gave men massages in the nude for money but that didn’t make him a horrible person and he didn’t believe he deserved to be tortured for his choice for the rest of his life for it. He thought that Chip understood him, that he didn’t judge him and though he had no idea what triggered such a delayed bizarre response from Chip, if this was the real man, the one he’d been hiding all along, the one that changed his mind and heart at a whim, then he was glad that he found out about it now before they pursued an even more permanent relationship. He was just sad that Johnny had to witness it and be part of it. That little boy, he thought, had witnessed enough bad things for two lifetimes.

  He felt like such a disappointment to Johnny.

  This never would have happened if he’d listened to his parents a long time ago and just ignored his gay thoughts. If he’d just pretended to be something else, maybe eventually he would have gotten used to living a lie, he could have married some nice girl. Lord knows he had enough of them beating down his door to get to him and he could have made a life with one of them. He could have had the American dream, Peter tried to convi
nce himself, picket fence, nice 9 to 5 job working at his father’s law firm, maybe even a couple of kids with her.

  The more he thought about it, the more it made his stomach turn. That just wasn’t him, he knew he’d go crazy if he even tried. It wouldn’t be fair to any woman he married either. He’d be lying to her too. And that wasn’t right.

  It was like God made him gay and then punished him every day for being who he was. This was not at all the life he dreamed of. Not even close. It wasn’t fair. He wasn’t a bad person so he didn’t understand why he was being punished. Did God, if he even existed, hate him? It seemed so unlikely that God would create gay people then treat them like this.

  Peter must have cried like he hadn’t in years. He cried until every drop of tears were squeezed out of him. He cried until there was nothing left and he felt empty and hollow inside. He cried until his eyes ached and were puffy and red, but he didn’t care. He needed to get all that pain and betrayal out of him some way.

  When he’d gathered enough strength, he pulled himself up and sauntered over to the car like a zombie, barely enough energy to unlock and open the door and throw himself into the driver’s seat.

  He shut the door and sat in his car, listening to the silence so loud he couldn’t stand it. He never realized how quiet it was out in the middle of the desert, especially at this time of night. But right now, being alone was exactly what he needed. He didn’t want to be around anyone anyway. It was as if he felt like he didn’t deserve to be around anyone and that if he had any contact with anyone, he’d only cast his bad luck on them.

  ***

  Peter spent the next few days in a cheap hotel in downtown Las Vegas that stank of beer and urine. The mattress, if you could call it that, had springs poking out of it and one pillow that was about as thin as a leaf. He spent most of his days staring at the television which had about three channels on it: bad, worse and horrific. It even had one of those hanger antennas that you had to adjust. But Peter was too lazy, or more like emotionally exhausted to get up and mess with it so he let the static channel just play day and night. There was air conditioning, thank God, that coughed out semi-cold air and sounded like a jackhammer was running.