My Brother’s Keeper - 17

“That smells good,” Roy said fifteen minutes later as he came to stand by the kitchen door. Like Jerry earlier, he had a towel was wrapped around his waist. He was using the other one to dry his hair. “I know what Jer meant,” he told Tad somewhat apologetically.

Tad chuckled. “I think I might have one more pair of sweats. Why don’t you gather up what you two were wearing and anything else that needs washing, and I’ll run a load or two of laundry.”

“You’d do that?”

“No, I just said it to torment you. Yeah I’ll do that. This place comes with its own washer and dryer, back there.” He nodded towards a door off the rear of the kitchen before he headed to his bedroom.

Roy watched him walk away, admiring for a long moment the fine ass defined by Tad’s tight jeans. Then he shook his head, dragging his thoughts from where they had no right to go. Needing something else to think about, he lifted the lid of the pot on the stove.

“Stew,” Tad said from behind him. “And I didn’t just whip it up. I keep containers of it in the freezer for emergencies, like when I don’t feel like cooking.” He handed Roy sweatpants and a T-shirt. “They should fit, you’re not that much taller than me and you’re definitely thinner. Go change and get the clothes together. They can wash while we eat.”

“Why does everyone in my life seem to like ordering me around?” Roy muttered as he went to get dressed and gather up the laundry.

  

Because you’re cute and sexy Tad thought, immediately followed by Where the hell did that come from? Not that he didn’t know, but it was something he rarely if ever dealt with. That particular half of his sexual being was definitely hidden so deeply in the closet it hadn’t seen the light of day since he was fifteen and experimenting with both boys and girls. He’d discovered he liked both equally, making him truly bi-sexual, but common sense had prevailed and since then he had kept his relationships to females only.

Even at that he rarely slept with them. Melodie was the perfect example. He liked her well enough he supposed, despite her obvious flaws, but when it came down to it he didn’t feel the urge to jump into the sack with her at every opportunity.

Tad’s musings were interrupted when Roy reappeared with an armload of dirty clothes. He marched past Tad to the laundry room door then looked bemused as he tried to figure out how to open it without dropping everything. Tad nudged him aside so that he could get the door and said, “Soap, bleach and softener are in the cabinet above the washer.”

Roy nodded his thanks and began to make two piles of clothes. Tad watched with amusement. “Someone trained you right.”

With a laugh, Roy replied, “I’ve found that if I separate the dirty gray-whites from the rest they don’t get grayer. Not that they get any whiter either at this point.” He put the first pile into the washer as he talked, added soap and dry bleach, and turned it on before coming back into the kitchen. “What can I do to help?”

“Go wake Jerry while I set the table.”

Guardian Angels - If It's Fated… (15)

Tim stood just inside Comforts. When the host asked, he said he was waiting for someone. He had taken off a few minutes early from work, to be certain he'd be on time. It was now ten past one and he was beginning to think Richard had changed his mind.

The door opened again, letting in a fresh burst of cold air—and Richard. "Sorry I'm late. A very persistent client insisted I stay until his painting was wrapped and ready to put in his car. Considering how much he'd spent, I figured it behooved me to cede to his wishes."

Before Tim could reply, the host returned. When Tim said they were ready, the man led them to a table at one side of the room. After taking off their coats and laying them on a vacant chair, they sat.

"You're a painter?" Tim finally had a chance to ask.

"Not even close. I couldn't draw a straight line if my life depended on it. I own an art gallery, Off the Wall." He looked expectantly at Tim, as if hoping he'd heard of it.

"I've walked past it a few times but never stopped in." Tim chuckled wryly. "The only piece of art I own is a copy of Picasso's 'Don Quixote'."

They stopped talking long enough to tell the waitress they hadn't decided what they wanted for lunch and ask her for coffee. Then Richard said, "You should come in next time."

"Now that I know it's yours, I might."

"So if it wasn't mine, you'd definitely keep on walking by, the way you always do?" Richard asked.

For a moment Tim debated how to answer before replying, "Honestly, probably. Unless I saw something through the window that made me want to take a closer look."

Richard's smile seemed to be one of relief. He verified that seconds later. "I'm glad you said that. It means you'd rather tell the truth than try to flatter me by saying something like 'I always meant to because you have great art, but…'."

"Well, you do, but…" Tim said seriously. Then he laughed. "To continue my honest streak, I know very little about art. To me, it's something you hang on your wall to fill an empty space."

Richard harrumphed, but with a smile. "Philistine."

"In that respect, yes. Now ask me about books and I'll talk your ear off."

"Gentlemen, are you ready to order?" the waitress asked, appearing with their coffees.

After a moment's perusal of the menu, they did. When she left, Richard asked, "What do you do in your spare time?"

"Read," Tim told him with a self-deprecating smile. "Go home, eat, read, or maybe watch TV, if there's anything interesting on, then go to bed. And you? Other than taking care of Cherie, that is."

Richard laughed. "That's a full-time job in and of itself."

"One you wouldn't trade for the world."

"Exactly," Richard agreed.

"No social life?"

"No more than you have, I suspect. I'm not really into the bar scene. I get more than enough socializing, if you can call it that, when we have a promotional opening for a new artist."

Tim shuddered. "I don't think I could deal with that."

"You'd learn to, if it meant bringing in new clientele. Luckily, I have a good staff to help me handle it."

Their meals arrived just as Tim said in response, "Not me. People at the library are one thing. Otherwise, I generally prefer my solitude."

Richard studied him while taking the first bite of his turkey club sandwich. "You're not really outgoing with people, are you?"

Tim sighed. "It's not that I don't like people. I just tend to shy away from anything that could become personal."

"And yet, you're here with me."

Tim nodded, picking up one half of his tuna melt. "I'm…taking a chance? I know that probably doesn't sound good, but it's the truth."

"I think we both are," Richard responded with a smile.

My Brother’s Keeper - 16

“Back to your question, Tad,” Roy said. “That’s why neither of us has looked for a job.”

“There has to be a way to…to get around it. Maybe something under the table?”

“No clue and not quite sure how one goes about finding out,” Roy replied with a shrug.

“I know some people who might.”

Roy looked surprised as he asked, “Why do you even care? Besides, as soon as Jer’s done and dressed we’ll be out of here.”

“I, well, someone’s got to give a damn.”

“And you’ve suddenly appointed yourself our guardian angel?” Roy cocked an eyebrow in amusement. “Angel, maybe, guardian, doubtful.”

“I’d like to help,” Tad told him in all seriousness. “If you’ll let me.”

“Again, why?”

“Why not?”

Roy laughed. “I guess you got me there.” He saw Jerry standing in the doorway at that moment, a towel wrapped around his waist and a disconsolate look on his face. Roy cocked an eyebrow in question.

Jerry chewed his lip before saying, “I hate putting my clothes back on now that I’m clean, if that makes sense.”

“Hang on,” Tad said as he got up. “I bet I’ve got some sweats that would fit you.”

“You don’t have too…”

“I want to, so shush.” Tad walked past him to the bedroom. A moment later he returned to hand Jerry a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved T-shirt. When Jerry thanked him and went to dress, Tad turned to Roy. “You’re next.”

“Excuse me?”

“Shower. And don’t argue. I hate to say it but you definitely need one.”

“Yeah, probably.” He stood when Jerry came back into the room. “Did you leave a dry towel?”

“Two.” Jerry eyed the lounge chair and looked at Tad who nodded it was all right. He immediately dropped down into it and closed his eyes.

“I’ll wake him when I get done,” Roy said.

“We’ll see. Go shower.” With that Tad headed to the kitchen.

My Brother’s Keeper - 15

“I’m sorry,” Tad said when he returned to the living room after he’d shown Jerry where the bathroom was and set out towels for him. “I overheard some of your conversation with your brother.”

Roy nodded. “So now you know my dirty little secret. I’m surprised you didn’t just kick us out.”

“Hang on a second. What kind of an ass do you think I am?”

“I don’t know. What kind are you?” Roy said with a serious look as he wondered if Tad would get the bad joke.

Apparently he didn’t because his reply was, “Not one who would think any the less of you just because you’re gay. It happens even in the best of families, and I’d say from what I overheard yours isn’t.” He sat down on the arm of the sofa. “Does your family live here?”

“In one of the suburbs up north.”

“You’ve never run into them since you left?”

Roy shook his head, a slight smile on his lips. “We don’t hang in the same social circles anymore. Besides, it’s a big city so the chances are slim that we would, as long as we stay away from the part of downtown where my mother works.”

“Next nosey question, how sick is your brother?”

“The doc at the clinic said it was just bronchitis.”

“Just? That’s nothing to fool around with,” Tad told him with a frown. “My granddad had it; it turned into pneumonia and… Hell, you don’t need to know this.”

“He was old, Jer isn’t,” Roy replied a bit defensively.

“Jerry’s also living on the streets with you under less than optimum conditions.”

Roy snorted. “That’s a fancy way of saying it sucks out there. But there’s no real option.”

“Can’t you get a job, even if it’s just manual labor or flipping burgers?”

“You need ID. If my family put out a missing person’s report for Jer, and they probably did, it’s more than possible they’d be notified, or my father would. He’s a cop.”

“Here in the city?”

“Nope, in the suburb where we…where they live.” Roy chuckled wryly. “Some fun huh? A bigoted suburban cop and fundamentalist churchgoer has a gay son.”

“Ouch,” Tad said. “And your mom is just as bad I presume.”

“Absolutely.”

My Brother’s Keeper - 14

“That wasn’t very nice,” Jerry said the moment Tad had left the room. “He’s only trying to help.”

“I know, and I apologized, although he is kind of pretty in a masculine sort of way.”

“Roy,” Jerry said in warning.

“I know. I didn’t mean anything by that. Don’t worry I know my place.”

“You’re ‘place’?”

Roy smiled tightly. “Yeah, my place. On the streets, doing what I have to, to stay alive and keep you safe.”

“We keep each other safe. It’s what brothers do.”

Roy looked at him, his smile fading. “I’ve told you it doesn’t have to be this way. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. It could be a good one if you’d only listen to reason. You—they love. It’s you they might have put out that missing person’s report on. It’s you they’d welcome home, coddle, take care of, and see that you had the best they could give you.”

“And I don’t want it. Not without you there too. What they did was wrong. My going back and acting as if nothing happened would only multiply that wrong. So like I’ve said a hundred times already that’s not happening. I can’t live with bigots and fear-mongers. You…you taught me that even if you didn’t know it.”

“When did you grow up to be such a good man?”

“I’m not sure I am. I know I’m not a man yet, not really. But being with you…” Jerry smiled, “it’s taught me a thing or two.”

“Yeah, like how to scrounge in a dumpster for supper and run for you life from some bastard who wants to beat you to a pulp because you dared to stand up to him.”

“I wasn’t going to let him do what he had planned. He’s a punk, a sick one.” Jerry shuddered.

Roy wrapped his arm around his brother’s shoulders. “We’re going to make it. Some how, some way, we’ll get off the streets.” He looked up when he heard a soft cough to see Tad standing in the doorway.

“If you want to take that shower now, Jerry…” Tad said.

'Snow Cat' has been re-released!

Snow Cat

https://www.jms-books.com/erotic-romance-c-29_94/snow-cat-p-2382.html

 

GENRE: Gay Paranormal Erotic Romance
LENGTH: 41,230 words

Artist Wynn McGuire has a problem. An enemy wants him dead.

Sheriff Mick Greene also has problems. Helping Wynn survive and finding the elusive "Snow Cat" that is prowling outside his small mountain town.

Wynn and Mick have another problem as well, their growing interest in each other. When Wynn disappears Mick is certain he’s either dead or has gone back to his old life. Then he discovers the truth about Wynn, just days before Wynn comes back into his life. Will this truth, plus Mick’s ex-lover and another man seeking to kill Wynn force them apart, or can they surmount the obstacles and learn that love indeed conquers all.

EXCERPT:

Mick tried to turn the camera on. He wanted to see the two pictures that had caused all the problems. It took him a moment to realize the battery was dead.

He didn't get a chance to buy a new battery until he was on his way home. It seemed as if everybody and their brother had problems only the sheriff's department could solve, from a runaway cat to a three-car accident just outside of town involving a local and two sets of tourists who didn't understand there was a reason for the speed limit on the winding mountain road.

So when his day ended, an hour later than normal, he pocketed the camera and headed out. After arriving home, he set the camera on his desk, went to change into well-worn jeans and a T-shirt, then fixed supper. He was anxious to see the photos but figured since he'd waited this long, another hour wouldn't matter and he'd have filled the empty hole in his stomach, which made him feel more human.

Finally he sat down at his desk, put the new battery in, and turned on the camera. Pressing the 'review' button, he brought up the last picture Wynn had taken.

"What the fucking hell!" He looked at the picture in disbelief then at the drawing over his desk and back at the picture. "No way, no how is that possible."

The picture was of a man, but not fully a man. The face was the one Wynn had shown him, the man he said was Lionel Knight. He was half bent over, above the body of a woman that had been torn to shreds. That was bad enough. What was unbelievable was the fact Lionel was more cat than man. His lower body was fully animal, thick powerful legs covered in black fur ending in powerful looking paws. It had a tail which was, Mick thought, shorter than say a tiger's or a leopard's in comparison to his body length.

From the waist up, he was still partially human, black fur melding into black chest hair. His hands were half morphed into cat's paws, long, sharp nails extended. The look of pure hatred as the creature stared out of the picture sent shivers down Mick's spine.

Hesitantly he looked at the second picture. Here the creature was fully cat, a jaguar, Mick thought. The nails of one front paw were imbedded in the woman's chest; the cat's powerful jaws gripped her arm and Mick knew seconds later they would pulverize it.

For a moment he thought maybe the two pictures were part of some fantasy shoot, one of the jaguar, the second of a morphing figure-maybe something Wynn had set up as inspiration for one of his paintings. Then he realized that was impossible when he looked at the time notations in the bottom corners of both pictures and studied the half jaguar, half man in the first one, comparing it to the second of the jaguar. The hind quarters were identical in both.

What the hell did I get involved in? Something out of science fiction, fantasy, the occult? Is this ... thing the same jaguar I found dead, its throat torn out, the day Wynn went missing? Is it ... was it ... really Lionel Knight?

Those and more questions spun through his mind as he turned on his computer.

Then he popped out the camera's memory card and plugged it into the USB slot before opening his photo program. After transferring the two pictures, he studied them side by side. He hadn't been wrong, it was the same jaguar, or ... or whatever it is. 

My Brother’s Keeper - 13

“You don’t have to do this you know,” Roy said as he and Jerry stood beside Tad at the front door to Tad’s apartment building.

“Yes he does,” Tad’s friend said while she unlocked the door. “From what he said it’s not safe for you out there right now.”

“Denise has a protective streak a mile wide,” Tad told them. “I’ve learned that when she’s in savior mode you don’t argue with her.”

“Damned straight.” She pushed the door open to let them in. “And now that I’ve done my,” she made quotation marks with her fingers, “civic duty, I’m off to bed. I have a hot man waiting there who wasn’t exactly happy when I came running to your rescue.”

“Oh hell, why didn’t you say something?” Tad growled.

“It’s Max, he’ll survive. See you tomorrow.” She looked at the brothers. “All of you I hope.” With that she handed Tad his keys and headed to the door leading to the stairs.

“Second floor,” Tad told the others when they looked surprised. “We take the elevator.”

A couple of minutes later Tad let the brothers into his apartment. “You can leave your backpacks there,” he told them, pointing to a chair a few feet away. Then make yourselves at home while I change clothes.”  He hesitated. “If you want to shower or what have you, you can.”

“I thought you just wanted to talk to us,” Roy replied somewhat pointedly.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean…” Tad shook his head. “Never mind, it was just an idea.”

“I’d like to, please,” Jerry told him, ignoring the frown Roy gave him. Then he started to cough, the hacking, seal-bark cough that Roy though was finally going away.

“Damn it,” Roy swore as he tore open Jerry’s backpack to get the bottle of syrup. He handed it to his brother, frowning hard when he saw him finish the last of it. “Where are your pills,” he asked tersely. Still coughing, Jerry pointed to the front pocket of the pack. Roy took them out, dumping two into his hand. “He needs some water.”

Tad was already headed to the kitchen. He returned quickly to give the glass to Jerry, who took it and popped the pills, drinking down half the water as fast as possible.

“What’s wrong with him,” Tad asked Roy.

“Nothing you need to worry about. He’s not contagious.” He put an arm around his brother, urging him towards the sofa and then telling him to sit.

“Is there anything else I can do?”

Roy stared at him. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about us. Go change, come back so we can finish that conversation and then we’ll be out of your hair.”

“Excuse me. My pretty little head?”

“Yeah you heard me.” Roy sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I’m just worried and…scared.”

Tad accepted his apology with a nod. “I’ll be right back.”

Guardian Angels - If It's Fated… (14)

Five minutes after Tim had left his apartment, Dom was in Samuel's office. To say he was angry would be an understatement.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Dom spat out, his wings waving so hard in his agitation that they blew some of the papers off of Samuel's desk.

Calmly, Samuel bent to retrieve the papers before asking with seeming innocence, "About what?"

"You know damned well—putting Deidre on Richard Lewis. You had to know she and I would run into each other at some point."

"I gather that happened. Given the fact you're here means she made contact with you."

"She did."

"With reason?"

Dom nodded. "I was worrying that Richard might stand Tim up. Then there she was, assuring me she'd make certain he didn't." Dom glared at Samuel. "I would have been quite capable of giving him a nudge in the right direction if needs be and you know it."

"True, but first he had to be convinced that he and Tim should be together."

Dom turned swiftly on hearing Deidre's voice from behind him. "Why are you here?"

She smiled slightly. "Undoubtedly for the same reason you are. To read Samuel the riot act now that our jobs are reaching a finish. I told you I didn't know you were involved until I saw you at the museum. I almost came back here then to tell Samuel he had to pull me off."

"Which wouldn't have occurred," Samuel said firmly. "What happened between the two of you to the contrary, you two were… are the best for what had to be done." He gave Dom a hard look. "If you hadn't revealed yourself to Timothy…"

"He needed a friend, not some stranger who couldn't show himself, trying to make him understand he has value in this world. That wouldn't have worked. I'm proof of that."

"If I'd showed myself to you instead of…" Deidre said quietly. "If you hadn't been so stubborn."

"Stubborn?" Dom jabbed a finger at her, stopping just short of poking her in the chest. "Stubborn? I was the reason they died. As a hostage negotiator, my job was to end the situation without any loss of life. I blew it. My… my…" Dom closed his eyes, fighting back tears.

* * * *

He would always remember the sound of the shots that took the lives of his family.

As the police department's hostage negotiator, he'd been sent in by his lieutenant, neither of them knowing who the hostages were. They only knew the two young men holding them had already murdered three people during the commission of an armed robbery. Dom's wife and son had walked into the convenience store seconds after the killings and moments before the first police officers arrived on the scene. The robbers had tried to use them to bargain for their freedom. Dom had done his utmost to talk them down—and failed. The guys used his wife and son as shields in their attempt to escape and carried out their threat to kill them when they realized escape was impossible—while Dom watched in horror. Seconds later, they died in a hail of bullets.

When Dom was sent for counseling by the department, he listened to the woman rattle on about how he had to talk about what happened. He listened, but he didn't talk. Her words were meaningless to him, as was the nagging voice in the back of his mind, telling him he had to keep going for the sake of his family—that he couldn't just give up. That they wouldn't have wanted him to. Three weeks later Dom committed suicide. Moments after he died, he arrived in the waiting room, destined to become another guardian angel. Deidre was there, begging his forgiveness for not saving his family. Samuel stepped in before Dom could grasp what she was saying. He took Dom into his office to explain why he was there.

When Samuel finished, he said, "You have a choice, Domingo. To become a guardian angel or"—he looked seriously at the devastated and disbelieving young man—"take your chances on where you'll end up if you don't."

"Which would be?" Dom asked, his hands clenched into fists.

"I can't tell you, because I don't know."

"Probably Hell," Dom muttered disconsolately. "So I guess I'll take the lesser of two evils." Then he frowned deeply. "Is she…" He nodded toward the door "Is she an angel?"

"She is. She was charged with protecting your son."

"Screwed that one up, didn't she?" Dom snarled. "Didn't do too well with me, either, if you set her on me once my family was dead." He tapped his forehead, remembering the voice he'd heard during the days before his death. The voice that until now he'd thought was his conscience playing games with him.

"I'm sorry to admit you're right. They, and you, were her first failures."

"Lucky us. Will she lose her job, I hope?"

Samuel shook his head. "Once you join us, it's forever. She'll be counseled about what went wrong and how she could have prevented it."

"A lot of good that will do now."

"Domingo, everyone fails sometimes but the wise ones learn from the experience."

Dom blew out a long breath. He was one of those who had failed. "Why do you want me to join you?"

"You have what every guardian angel has, compassion and a desire to help those who need it. I believe you will become one of the best of the best in time. You know what it's like to be so down that life doesn't seem worth living. You can help others—your charges—see that's not the truth."

Dom smiled wryly. "So you're going to put me with anyone who's suicidal. I'm not certain, given what I did, that that's your smartest idea."

"When needs be, yes, because I'm quite certain it is."

* * * *

Dom opened his eyes when Samuel said, "The two of you will finish your jobs, and if necessary, you will work together now that you each know the other is involved. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Dom and Deidre replied.

"Very good. Now go back down and make certain Timothy and Richard don't blow it. A child's future depends on the two of you."

"Why?" Dom asked.

"That, I am not at liberty to say. Just believe that it does."

"Of course," Dom muttered. He smiled slightly, remembering Paddy's telling him once that what they did was like playing Jenga. If they screwed up, it was the same as pulling out the wrong block. The whole world—or some part of it, at least—would tumble into ruin. He glanced at Deidre. I wonder what part tumbled because she didn't save me and my family. Not that I'll ever know but…

My Brother’s Keeper - 12

“Why do you trust him,” Jerry whispered to Roy as Tad sat down.

Roy shrugged. “Not much he can do to us here so let’s hear what he has to say.” He turned to look at Tad. “I’m Roy, this is my brother Jerry.”

“Names for the faces.” Tad smiled. “All right, to cut to the chase, a week or so ago I took your pictures. You were, I think it’s called dumpster diving.”

“We do that a lot,” Jerry said a bit snarkily.

“I’m sure you do, unfortunately. And honest,” Tad said quickly when the brothers frowned angrily, “I didn’t mean that condescendingly. Anyway, the night I took your pictures three guys were going to attack you.”

“Hang on.” Roy looked at him. “It was you. You’re the guy who told us to run.”

“Yeah, that was me.”

“We owe you, man. Thanks.”

“You don’t owe me anything. As a matter of fact, I owe you. Those pictures I took are good enough that my professor wants me to enter them in the winter art show at the university.”

“Oh?” Roy said cautiously.

“You don’t like the idea I take it.”

Roy glanced at Jerry who was shaking his head. Then he asked Tad, “How big is this show? I mean is it open to everyone or just the people at the university?”

“Everyone. That’s a problem I take it.”

“It could be.” Roy started to say something more. He stiffened suddenly and sighed. “No rest for the wicked.”

Tad turned to see what was bothering Roy. “Oh shit, it’s those guys.”

“Yeah. At least they can’t come in here and start trouble, but the guards will kick us out pretty soon since they know we’re not here to catch a bus.”

Tad made a quick decision and reached into his boot to get his cell phone. He punched in a number and moments later said, “Can you pick up me and two friends at the bus station, ASAP?” A moment later he said, “Thanks,” and hung up. “The cavalry to the rescue. She should be here in ten give or take.”

“Then what?”

“Then you come to my place where it’s safe and we finish this discussion.”

My Brother’s Keeper - 11

Roy and Jerry raced down the almost deserted street. Behind them the sound of footsteps from their pursuers echoed off the walls of the buildings.

“Almost…there…” Roy managed to gasp out as he grabbed his brother’s arm to help him keep up. Or pull him along. He wasn’t sure which but it didn’t matter as long as it got them both to their destination before Daws and his gang caught up with them.

The light at the crossing turned yellow. They ignored it, dashing pell-mell across the street. Horns honked angrily but they made it without being hit. Roy shoved open the door to the bus station. Seconds later they both collapsed on one of the benches, heedless of the stares from the people in the waiting room.

Roy glanced back the way they’d come to see Daws glaring at him through the plate-glass window. He was almost tempted to flip him off but decided there no reason to add more fuel to the fire.

Jerry started to cough and Roy quickly dug the cough syrup out of his backpack.

“Next time, we hide better,” Jerry grumbled once he’d taken a big swing from the almost empty bottle.

“Definitely,” Roy agreed as he checked to see if Daws was still standing outside. Not seeing him, although he knew that didn’t mean anything, he turned back. As he did he saw a kid he knew from the streets huddled on one of the benches across the room talking to a young man. The kid said something and the young man turned his head. A smile lit his face and he started towards Roy and Jerry.

“Now what,” Roy muttered with a sigh as he tensed, ready to defend himself and his brother if necessary.

“I’ve been looking all over hell and gone for you two,” the young man said as he stopped a few feet away. “My name’s Tad and I’d like to talk to you, if you don’t mind.”

“Doing some research project,” Roy asked while he looked Tad over with a jaundiced eye. “Whoever dressed you did a piss poor job of it. You match.”

Tad looked down at what he was wearing. As far as he was concerned his clothes looked ratty enough. Then he caught what the young man meant. “Yeah, guess I do, compared to you anyway. Who’s your tailor?”

Roy frowned, and then chuckled. “Good one. Okay, why do you want to talk to us?”

“Not for research, or some newspaper article. May I?” Tad nodded to the vacant seat next to Roy.

My Brother’s Keeper- 10

Tad took one more look in the mirror. He turned slowly to make certain he hadn’t missed anything. While he knew he didn’t look as rough as most of the people who spent their days living on the streets, he hoped he’d be able to pass as a newcomer, not a total fake. The only thing he had on him was his driver’s license and his cell phone. Both were tucked inside one well-worn boot.

Satisfied, finally, he grabbed the jacket he’d picked up at a near-new shop. He took his keys from the hook by the front door and let himself out of the apartment. When he got down to the second floor he knocked on the door of a friend who knew what he had planned.

When the door opened, she looked at him appraisingly. “You’ll pass,” she said and then changed her mind. “Your hands are too clean.” She stepped back to let him inside. “As luck would have it I was just about to empty the vacuum bag. Guess who gets the honors now.”

Tad laughed. “Lucky me.” He followed her into the kitchen where the vacuum stood beside her trash basket. After a second’s thought he dropped his keys on the counter, went to the sink and dampened his hands first and then emptied the bag. “Better?” he asked, holding out his filthy hands for inspection.

“Wipe some of it off. Right now you look like you’ve been playing in a mud puddle.”

With an exaggerated eye-roll he obeyed. Finally she was satisfied.

“Everything else is good. When will you be home?”

“I don’t know but if it’s too late I’ll call you first and you can leave the key to my place…umm, under my doormat. Thanks for doing this.”

“Not a problem. Just be careful.”

“I will be, promise.”

He left the apartment building without running into any of his neighbors, for which he was heartily glad. He didn’t want to have to explain why he looked like a vagrant. He had decided to start where he’d last seen the two young men and work his way out from there. He honestly didn’t expect to find them back at that particular dumpster—not after what had almost happened to them there—but it was a place to begin.

Two hours later he was wondering if this was an exercise in futility. He had wandered half the alleys in the downtown area and seen sights that made him wish he had been able to bring his camera along. But the two young men had not been in any of them. He had even stopped at some of the soup kitchens where, much to his surprise, he had been treated like a normal person despite how he looked. For some reason he’d expected to be lectured or forced to listen to some religious spiel. Neither of those things happened.

It was nearing midnight when he got to the bus station. From the research he’d done online he knew that the homeless often used it as a place to get warm until they were kicked out. He stepped inside, paused to look around, and not seeing them he turned to leave when a hand landed on his shoulder.

Guardian Angels - If It's Fated… (13)

Dom dropped down on the other end of the sofa. "An old… I guess you could call her someone I once knew who…" He sighed, staring down at the floor.

"Now she's back?"

"In a way. She's…here on a job."

"For the same company you work for?"

Dom gave a sharp nod. "Yeah, and there's not a damned thing I can do about it."

"Ask them to send you somewhere else."

"That's not feasible at the moment."

Tim smiled slightly. "Good, because I'd miss you."

Dom cocked an eyebrow. "From the sound of it—from what you said—you have someone else now to keep you busy."

"I'm hoping that's what's going to happen. But I won't know until tomorrow. He might change his mind by then."

"I don't think so. I told you he seemed very interested in you when we were at the museum, and I gather you've seen him again since then."

"At the library today." Tim told him what had happened—in detail.

When he finished, Dom chuckled. "I can almost see it all as it went down."

"Sorry. I'm just…it's important to me. But…" He looked at Dom, frowning. "Am I making a mountain out of a mole hill? I'm scared, Dom. This is the first time anyone's even seemed the least bit interested in me as more than…than an acquaintance, if you know what I mean. He could think about it tonight and decide he was stupid to ask me to lunch and—well..." 

"Tim, you have to start believing in yourself. From what you told me, he asked because he's interested in you. If you go into this thinking you're not worth his interest, he's going to wonder if maybe that's so. For all you know, he's as scared as you are. He's dedicated his life to Cherie, I suspect, and I'd be willing to bet that means not getting involved with anyone for fear it could cause… problems."

Tim frowned, thinking about that. "Problems for her if people found out he's gay? But you said he said he'd gone to Maxie's a couple of times."

"Don't forget, Maxie's caters to everyone, so if anyone found out, they wouldn't think anything about it."

"True, I guess. I wonder…"

"If she knows he is? Kids are smart and she's very smart, so it wouldn't surprise me if she figured it out." Dom grinned. "You said he told you she dragged him to the library today. What do you want to bet there was method in her madness?"

"She couldn't know I'm gay. No one knows."

"She really likes you, from what I've seen. Maybe she was playing matchmaker and hoping."

Tim sighed. "That definitely puts the pressure on. What if we decide we don't like each other? Could she deal?"

"Stop being so negative. Yeah, you barely know each other at this point but hell"—Dom reached over to pat Tim's shoulder—"maybe it's fated that you two are supposed to be together and she is just the catalyst."

"I don't believe in fate."

"Well start, damn it. You're a good, decent man who deserves to be happy. I'm betting Richard could make that happen, if you let him."

"If he decides he likes me."

"Would he have asked you to lunch if he wasn't attracted to you, at least on some level?"

"I…guess not."

"So go tomorrow and see what happens. I'm placing odds that by the end of lunch, the two of you will decide to have another date, and another, and in the end, he'll be more than willing to have you in his life—and Cherie's—on a permanent basis."

Tim chuckled. "What sort of odds?"

"A hundred to one?"

"That works." Tim started to get up then said, "If you want to talk about…."

"Not really, but thanks for asking. Now if I were you, I'd go get some sleep. You need to be bright and perky tomorrow."

Tim snorted. "Me and bright and perky is an oxymoron. Still, yeah, I probably should try to sleep, if I can."

"You will, and you'll dream of Richard and be doubly ready to see him tomorrow."

Tim rolled his eyes as he stood. "I'm already ready, thanks to your calming me down."

"Glad to have been of service. Just remember, I want all the details tomorrow night"—Dom grinned—"presuming you aren't out on a second date with him at that point."

"On a work night? Uh-uh," Tim replied as he headed to the door. "Saturday, maybe."

"Saturday works."

"Yeah, it does," Tim said hopefully, as he left Dom's apartment.

My Brother’s Keeper- 9

“I really am feeling better,” Jerry said as he recovered from a hacking bout of coughing. He smiled a bit when Roy instantly handed him the bottle of cough syrup. After he took a gulp he screwed the cap back on and stuffed it into his backpack.

“I know you are, and you look better too, not so pale.” Roy looked out over the city from their perch on a park bench several miles from where they’d spent the night. He cupped his hands behind his head to lean back and savor the warmth of the sun on his face. “How about we move to, oh Florida or Arizona so we don’t have to try to survive the winter here.”

“I wish.” Jerry chewed his lip. “It would mean a lot of hitchhiking and if we got picked up by the cops…”

“You worry too much,” Roy said, smiling at him.

“Says the one who forced me to go to the clinic.”

“Speaking of which, we’re due to go back there today.”

Jerry shook his head hard. “I’m better and we’d be taking a chance if we did. Who knows who might have seen us there the last time and maybe told Daws.”

“Jer…”

“Roy…” Jerry mimicked. “Honestly, let’s not take the chance. Please.”

Roy sighed. “On one condition, if I think you’re relapsing then we go and to hell with Daws.”

“Deal.” Jerry slid off the bench to lie on the grass, staring up at the sky. “Phoenix maybe?”

“Maybe, or Tucson.”

“Or California somewhere?”

“No. Too many people, too many homeless like us.”

They continued discussing the options, both of them knowing it was a dream which would never come true.

My Brother’s Keeper- 8

“Mr. Cooper, my office, please, now.”

Tad jumped slightly, cast a worried look at one of his friends sitting next to him in the classroom, and then got up to follow Mr. Moore. Once the door was closed behind them, Mr. Moore actually smiled as he indicated Tad should take a seat.

“I would like you to submit your photographs of those two homeless boys to the arts committee. If they accept them, then they’ll be in the winter art show.”

Tad sucked in a deep breath. “I…thank you, sir. I’m honored.”

“They are excellent and I think you know that so stop being so modest.”

With a nod, Tad started to stand. A thought came to him and he asked, “Won’t I have to get their permission since it will be a public showing?”

“Of course that is the optimal situation. But if you don’t know who they are you are still legally allowed to show the photos. They were taken in a public place and thus the subjects have no legal right to privacy.”

Tad nodded. “I guess.”

“If it will make you rest easier, see if you can find those young men. However please do not put yourself in danger in the process. I would hate to loose such a promising student.”

“Thank you.” Tad felt his face turning red at the compliment from a man who was usually so reticent to give them.

“That is all, Mr. Cooper. Now go put together your portfolio and submit it.”

“Yes, sir.”

When he returned to the classroom Tad couldn’t help the grin that broke out. He sat down, leaning across the aisle to tell his friend what had happened. Melodie, who was two seats away, looked upset when he didn’t immediately come over to tell her. He saw her frown and sighed. Quickly he let her know as well, adroitly avoiding her attempt to hug him as she squealed happily.   

Now all I have to do is find them. No matter what Mr. Moore had told him, he didn’t think it was right to show the photos of the two young men until he knew that it wouldn’t cause trouble for them. After all, there had to be a reason they were living on the streets. Perhaps they had run away from a bad home situation or were orphaned.

This weekend, he decided firmly.