“Uh…yeah?”
“No, that isn’t a non sequitur. Some of my clients are rent boys.”
“Yeah?” His eyes widened, as if I were talking about some new species. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“How’d you meet them?”
I sighed. “I put an ad in a local GLBT newsletter.”
“Wow!”
“I got to know them fairly well—”
“Did you…did you have sex with them?”
“You mean did I pay for it? No. That would have been unethical.” His eyes grew huge. “What? You think rent boys don’t have any ethics? The ones I know are more honorable than a lot of the people who buy them.”
“I’m sorry.”
I waved aside his apology. “Anyway, they told me stories…A lot of them were tossed out because they were gay and their families couldn’t or wouldn’t accept it. Little boys—oh, maybe not age-wise—from white collar families, from blue collar families, with no way to support themselves other than selling their bodies. When you’re safe in your own room, it might sound hot, but when you’re out on the street, having no choice but to go from one man to another, doing whatever they want you to…It’s just sad. Don’t ever put yourself into that situation, Pat.”
“But your father threw you out.”
“Yeah, he did.”
“So how….” His cheeks were scarlet by this time, and he glanced at me from under his lashes. “But then you met Wills.”
And how could I explain that?
Fortunately, at that moment, Wills came in, wearing a jacket, and I sent a questioning glance his way. “Babe?”
“Dad’s on his way,” he said, and I saw his car keys in his hand. “I’m going to pick him up.”
“I’ll walk you to the door. Pat, tell JR to join you here. You can have a glass of milk and a piece of cake.”
He looked like he’d object to the milk, but I waited him out, and he gave up.
Once he was out of the room, I slung my arm around Wills’s neck and murmured, “What a mess.”
“Tell me about it.” We walked to the front door. “I hate being mad at JR.”
I kissed his ear and couldn’t resist sticking my tongue in it, pleased when he shivered. “I think he’ll get over it. It means a lot to him that you care so much.”
“I never came so close to hitting him.”
“It’ll be okay.”
He blew out a breath and shook his head, but said, “I shouldn’t be too long. Dad’s gonna need the spare bedroom. Set up the couch in my office for JR.”
“I’ll get right on it. Drive carefully.”
“Always do,” he murmured against my lips. A soft caress to my check, and he was gone.
Wills returned home with his father, and I was sorry to see how worn Jack looked.
“Would you like a cup of coffee, Jack?”
“No thanks.” He looked from JR to Pat. “May I have the use of a room?”
“Sure. You know where the guestroom is.” Wills had taken him on a tour of the apartment, and his father, being an architect, appreciated the details.
“John Robert, Patrick, if you’ll come with me?”
JR gulped and sent a nervous glance toward his brother. From what Wills had told me, the only time JR’s full name was used was when he was in trouble.
Pat was pale, his lips in a tight line, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed repeatedly.
They followed Jack down the hallway to the room that used to be Paul’s but which we used as a guestroom now, although come to think of it, we hadn’t had any guests stay with us.
Wills shook his head. “That’s just sad.”
“What is, babe?”
“Patrick expects Dad to hit him.”
“Wills, I took Pat aside while JR was tidying the kitchen and told him what could happen if he ran again.”
“Oh, babe.”
“I kept it vague, let him think it happened to some kids I knew.” I just hoped he bought it. “Maybe it will scare him into not doing such a boneheaded thing again.”
“Maybe.”
I ran my fingers through my hair. “Is it going to be like that?”
“What, babe?”
“Raising a child.”
“We just won’t let him be friends with another Damien. Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“My office.”
“Okay.” Normally I’d either ask why or let him go by himself—he was a big boy—but I had something else on my mind. “Can we?”
“What?”
“Wills, you had Michael. JR has Pat. What are the odds our son won’t have a friend like that? What if it runs in the family?”
“God forbid!” He grinned, but it faded when something apparently occurred to him. “Jesus, you may be right. Dad and Uncle Tony.”
“So what will we do?”
“We’ll just have to hope for the best. But in the meanwhile, we won’t go borrowing trouble.” By now we were in his office, and he touched the mouse. “I’d better change those reservations and cancel yours.”