The Colors of Hate - 45

“Oh, hell. Now what,” Dean said in shock as they turned the corner onto his street. Ahead of them, in front of his building, were several police cars as well as two television news trucks.

Kirby quickly pulled the car to the curb. He took out his phone, making a call. After talking briefly and listening to the person on the other end he hung up. “It seems not everyone was happy about your TV appearance and they don’t mind defacing private property to make their point. Of course they didn’t stick around to see how you’d react.”

“Which will be badly, I take it,” Dean growled as he opened the car door.

“Hold on. You’re going nowhere. I’ll drive us by your building slowly enough so we can see what they did, but we are not stopping.”

“Kirby, I’m not a coward.”

“No shit, and that’s the problem. You go up there, you’re going to be interrogated by the reporters who are just waiting for you to show up. You’ll probably go off on whoever did this, it’ll hit the news, and that will put you more in their sights than you already are. Trust me on this Dean and let’s do it my way.”

“I… all right.” Dean’s face was tight with anger. “You’re the expert.”

“In this, yes I am, and give me your phone, please.”

With a frown Dean handed it over, asking, “Why?”

“Some of those calls you got could have been from the people who did this.” Kirby set it on the console and pulled back onto the street. As promised he drove slowly past the building.

“God,” Dean whispered as he saw the slurs which had been sprayed across the front doors and the walls beside them.

“Not nice people,” Kirby agreed, his gut clenching in rage.

“That’s a bit of an understatement.” Dean sighed. “I suppose I’ll have to look for a new place to live now. You better believe my landlord’s not going to want me staying on here.”

“We’ll face that problem tomorrow. For now I’m taking you to a hotel.”

“Four star one?” Dean asked with a slight grin.

“No, you nut. Although…” Kirby tapped a finger on the steering wheel. “Yeah, that might not be such a bad idea. One of the better ones would have more security.”

“I’m all for that, as long as it includes no one telling anyone I’m there.”

“We’ll let them know what happened to your apartment building. That should keep them quiet. Kidding,” Kirby added when Dean frowned at him. He made a turn onto the main avenue through the city, heading into the heart of the downtown area. “This one should work,” he said a few minutes later.

As they entered the hotel Kirby said, “You sign in. I want to have a few words with security.” He scanned the lobby as Dean crossed it to the check-in desk, saw the man he wanted and went to talk to him. By the time he was finished, so was Dean. Kirby beckoned him over, introducing him to the night head of security. Then they went up to Dean’s room.

“Wait here,” Kirby said when they got inside. He made a quick but thorough survey of the room and bathroom, deeming them both fine, then came back to Dean. “You are not to leave the room until either I or Reid comes to get you. You are not to make any phone calls. You are not to open the door to anyone. You are not to order anything from room service.”

“Do I have permission to shower and watch TV?” Dean asked tightly.

Kirby grinned suddenly. “Yeah, but no porn. Look, I’m sorry if that all came off wrong but I don’t want anything happening to you.”

“I know. I get that. I shouldn’t have taken it the way I did.”

“We’re both tired and tense. Get some sleep and I’ll see you sometime tomorrow. Okay?”

“Yes. You get some sleep, too. You look like hell.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well you do. Go. I’ll be just fine.”

“Just remember…”

“No porn, got it.”

They both laughed, albeit tiredly, before Kirby left.

The Colors of Hate - 44

Fifteen minutes later they pulled into the parking lot behind a small restaurant on the outskirts of the city. Once inside Kirby greeted the host, introducing him to Dean as Tom, an old friend and ex-cop who had gone into business for himself after retiring.

The older man shook Dean’s hand, saying while he led them to a table to one side of the room, “You did a brave thing tonight young man.”

“Thank you.” Dean replied. “It was time, I guess.”

“More than,” Kirby said in agreement as he sat down. “A beer? Or something stronger, or weaker?”

“A beer’s fine.”

“It’s on the house,” Tom said, “as are your meals.” He patted Dean’s shoulder when he began to protest. “Do not argue with your elders. You earned it I think.”

As Tom walked away Kirby smiled. “He used to be a really prejudiced asshole when he was on the force. But towards the end he mellowed out and we became friends.” He chuckled. “I’m not sure he approves of me, but he’s accepts me as I am and that’s what counts.”

A waiter came over with their beers and asked if they knew what they wanted to eat. Kirby suggested the house special, ordering it for both of them when Dean said it sounded good.

“To…success,” Kirby said when the waiter was gone, lifting his glass.

“To success.” Dean smiled; tapping the rim of his glass with Kirby’s then taking a sip. “Now the question becomes, success in what?”

“In surviving your father, for starters I guess.”

“I will. He’s done his worst, making me live in fear of him and his warped ideas all these years. It’s over now. He can’t hurt me any more.”   

Kirby refrained from saying it wasn’t quite true. He didn’t want to spoil what was left of their evening together. Instead he said, “There’s also the success of your next show, after all that happened.”

“We’ll pull together. We’re theater people, we always do.”

“And then…there’s success on a more personal level. Yeah, I know, we’re not going to think about it until everything is back to normal, but I can still drink to it,” which he did. He smiled when Dean nodded, lifted his glass to him and took a drink.

For a long moment they just looked at each other, neither one quite sure what to say next. Their silence was broken when Dean’s phone chimed.

“What are the odds it’s my father,” Dean muttered before checking the name on the screen. His mouth tightened and he pocketed the phone.

“Dean, you’re going to have to talk to him sometime.”

“I know, but not right now. Maybe not for a long time to come. He’s only going to tell me I’m sick and need counseling to cure me of my ‘affliction’.”

“If he does you can suggest he’s the one who needs it.”

“I so wish.” Dean sighed. “I don’t have what it takes to fight him, Kirby. I never did. What happened tonight was purely an impulse born of frustration and a need to finally be open and step out of the closet I put myself in because of him.”

“Exactly, because of him, not because you wanted to be there. Now you’re out and I suspect in the days to come you’re going to find out you’re exactly where you should be. If that makes any kind of sense.”

Dean smiled. “It does, and you’re right, and I’m hungry. Where’s our food?”

Reaching over, Kirby patted his shoulder. “That was a very effective way to end that topic, and unless I’m wrong we’ll be eating momentarily.”

He wasn’t wrong. The waiter arrived seconds later to place their plates in front of them.

“If this tastes as good as it smells,” Dean said before taking a bite of the entrée.

“Fit for the gods, or two starving men,” Kirby replied with a grin.

They ate in companionable silence, Dean studiously ignoring his phone when it chimed several times during the meal. Finally Kirby pointed out he could just turn it off, which he did with a sigh of relief.

The Colors of Hate - 43

“That wasn’t a bad movie,” Dean commented as they left the theater.

“Wasn’t bad? It was fantastic,” Carrie countered as she linked her arm with Jim’s.

“Well,” Kirby said, “I’m not certain I’d rate it fantastic, but it was better than I expected.”

Dean gave him a mock glare. “What? You planned on dragging me to a semi-bad movie?”

“A semi-good one?” Kirby was all feigned innocence, which had them laughing.

“Mr Travers,” a voice called out the second they stepped through the doors onto the sidewalk.

Without a thought Kirby moved between Dean and the speaker, his hand sliding under his jacket.

“Mr Travers,” the man said again, “I just wanted to thank you for what you did. If you can stand up to all the haters then there’s hope for the rest of us.”

Despite Kirby’s growl, Dean walked over to the young man. “It’s cliché, but as long as we don’t let the bastards get to us there is always hope.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t seem like it,” the young man said morosely.  

“Hey, come on. Not everyone hates people like you,” a second man said, joining in the conversation.

“People like us?” Dean’s eyebrows rose as he shook his head. “We’re no different than you or him,” he pointed to the male half of a couple who were watching the exchange, “or her.” He smiled at the man’s girlfriend.

“Well technically you are,” Kirby said from behind him. “You’re famous now, at least around here. But that begs the question. We’re all human beings. Most of us, gay, straight or anything else, just want to live our lives in peace.” He put his arm around Dean’s shoulders. “So…when we see someone like his father and the haters who follow him, we have to speak out and let the world know they will not win.” He turned his gaze on each person in the now sizable crowd that surrounded them, then smiled. “End of lecture. If you don’t mind we have a date for a good meal, with good friends.”

“That would be us,” Carrie said as she and Jim joined them. “By the way, I’m Dean’s sister. Nice to meet you all.”

The crowd parted to let them through, some of the people voicing their support of Dean, the rest remaining silent, although most of the faces registered approval. There were a few of course who seemed less than happy. Kirby kept a close eye on them until he and the others reached his car. After a hasty consultation, Carrie and Jim begged off supper. Carrie hugged Dean tightly for a moment, kissed his cheek and then she and Jim took off for his car.

“So, where to?” Kirby asked as they got into the car.

“Somewhere quiet and out of the way.” When Kirby opened his mouth to speak Dean caught the look on his face. “A restaurant, a bar, a coffee house.”

Kirby grinned. “Killjoy. Okay, I know just the place.”

The Colors of Hate - 42

“Damn, Dean,” Carrie said softly when the news program switched back to the anchorman—who began to give a brief recap of the CVA’s history. “Just… Damn. I’m so proud of you.”

“We both are,” Kirby told him, gripping Dean's shoulder. “Now, shall we run for the hills before the national reporters descend on the city?”

“Oh hell, I never considered that,” Dean muttered.

Kirby chuckled. “Sort of thought you hadn’t, but they will.”

“My fifteen minutes of fame.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“It will be more than that I’m afraid. By this time tomorrow the fall-out will have begun. Therefore, I suggest we get our asses in gear and go take in the movie while you’re still just a person, not a cause.”

Carrie glared at Kirby. “You’re going to let him leave here and go out in public, on a public street, to a movie?”

“Carrie,” Dean said, laughing, “first off I am not going to hole up here like some escaped convict. Secondly, he doesn’t rule my life. I’m quite able to make my own decisions, and right now getting out of here to do something normal sounds just fine to me. You’re welcome to come along if you want to.”

“She is?” Kirby asked, a trace of petulance in his voice.”

“If she brings Jim along, sure.”

“Gee, thanks.” Carrie shook her head, obviously unsure whether she was amused now or still upset. Either way, she took out her phone to call Jim, moving away from the others to have some privacy after Dean told her which theater they were going to.

When she was out of earshot Kirby grumbled, “I’m not trying to rule your life as you put it.”

“Well, as a cop you are. As a person, I don’t think that’s been decided yet.”

“As a cop it’s my job to keep you safe. Well, maybe not technically but I’d rather do that than have to go after someone who attacks you.” He smiled, resting his hands on Dean’s shoulders. “As a person, I would never try to rule your life, but I wouldn’t mind sharing it with you, if and when you might decide you want me to.”

Dean nodded. “I’m…thinking about it. It’s early on and hell, Kirby, this is all new to me, as I think you know. I hope you do. I like you, I like the fact you want to protect me…as a cop...”

“And as a man,” Kirby said softly. “I get what you’re saying though and I’m not going to pressure you. After all we barely know each other when it comes down to it. We were thrown together due to circumstances beyond either of our control. Let’s get past this new…problem before we try to make such a personal decision.”

“Just give me time.” Dean smiled. He traced the line of Kirby’s jaw with one finger then dropped his hand. “That’s all I ask.”  

“All the time you need.”

“Guys,” Carrie broke in, “I hate to destroy your moment, but Jim’s on his way to the movie theater and the show starts in,” she pointedly checked her watch, “twenty minutes.”  

“All right. Do you want to ride with us?” Kirby asked.

Dean shot him a questioning look. “Us?”

“Yes, because right now I’m in cop mode. I’d rather keep a close eye on you when you’re out in public.”

“You can’t be with me twenty-four-seven.”

Kirby grinned. “Well damn.”

“Gentlemen, move it!” Carrie ordered. “You can discuss safety issues later. Dean, if you don’t mind I’ll leave my car here, pick it up tomorrow and ride with you all.”

“Sure.” He opened the door, said, “Now shall we?” and made a production of ushering them out of the apartment, much to the other’s amusement.

The Colors of Hate - 41

“He got the photos, Dean,” Carrie told him the moment he opened his apartment door to let her in. “He just called me. He’s through the roof.”

“But privately?”

“Of course. Did you think…” She stopped, looking at him in horror. “You’re really going to do this, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, he is,” Kirby said, coming in from the living room. He checked his watch. “It’s almost five, Dean.”

With his arm around his sister’s waist, Dean led her into the living room while Kirby turned on the television to the local news.

After the usual headline stories, the anchorman looked seriously at the camera. “Most people know or have heard about the Classic Values Alliance, or CVA, an extremist group which is adamantly opposed to homosexuals and what they deem the ‘gay agenda’. It was founded by Pastor Louis Travers, who runs it from his church in Colorado Springs, Colorado. Tonight we have an interview, taped just an hour ago, with his son, Dean Travers.” The picture switched to two people sitting in one of the station’s interview areas.

“Good evening, Dean. May I call you Dean?”

Dean nodded. “Good evening, Miss Nicholls.”

“To get right to the point, you have lived in the city for the past two years, working as a costume designer at the Front Row Theater.”

Dean nodded. “I have.” He smiled slightly. “I still am actually.”

“In all that time, you have never revealed what you are going to tell me to anyone. Correct?”

His smile broadened a bit. “This is beginning to sound like a police interrogation, but it’s true. I haven’t told anyone except two people who are very close to me.” He turned to look at the camera. “Now I’m telling the world. I’m gay. From now on this will no longer be a secret. Interestingly, if you want to look at it that way, my father Lou Travers is the founder of one of the most rabidly anti-gay hate groups in the country. A group which would, among other things, like to criminalize homosexuality.” Giving a slight wave at the camera he said, “Hi, Dad. Now you know. Your son is a criminal. An abomination in your eyes and those of your followers. But to those people who have an ounce of common sense, I’m just another man. One who happens, by nature, to be gay. It’s not a choice I made. It is who and what I am and always have been, and I’m tired of hiding the fact from those people I call friends and colleagues.” Turning back to Miss Nicholls he said, “And there you have it.”

“Yes we do,” she replied seriously. “One question. The CVA has a reputation for being, shall we say, less than accommodating to those they feel have betrayed their trust. Are you afraid they may come after you now?”

“Not afraid, just aware that it’s a possibility.” He turned to the camera again. “If they do, it will be on my father’s head.”

“Brave words.”

“And true ones.”

“Thank you, Dean, for allowing this interview.”

Dean smiled. “I think I should be the one thanking you.”