Page 19 of Sweet T

“No. He doesn’t have a car either.”

“Do people not own cars anymore?”

Evan didn’t answer the question.

“Is he your boyfriend, this guy in Atlanta?”

“No. Just a friend.”

Why am I justifying myself? Evan wondered?

“Sorry. You said you were in a hurry. I thought maybe the fight with your parents was to do with him.”

“Tyke’s his name. It does have to do with him, but not what you’re thinking. My parents don’t like a lot about me... that I’m gay, that I have tattoos, and, most of all, because I wanna be an actor.”

“Your ID says you’re twenty-one.”

“Yeah. So? You gonna lecture me now?”

“No. You just look younger. Initially, I was afraid someone had beaten a fifteen-year-old half to death and left him on my doorstep. I was relieved when I saw your age.”

“So, it’s OK to get beat up if I’m an adult?”

“No. But you’re a man. You made a mistake and you’re paying for it. I’d help you either way. I’m just glad you’re not a kid. A kid should never experience something like that.”

“God. You sound like my father.”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to. But I hope you’re not as quick to give a stranger a blow job for a ride to Atlanta.”

“I won’t be.”

“Good.”

“Have you heard from your friend yet? About my bag?”

Tucker looked at his phone. “She’s headed to the tavern now. Won’t take long. Said she didn’t recall seeing one.”

Evan sighed deeply. “I’m so tired.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have agitated you. I just—I wanted to know what happened. So we can file a police report.”

“NO. Please don’t. I don’t want my parents to know.”

“They won’t. But we need to catch this guy. What kind of car was it?”

“Black. No, maybe blue.”

“Make? Model?”

“I have no idea.”

“Was it a truck?”

“No. SUV. It had a backseat. That’s where I put my bag. He was a salesman—so he said.”

“That’s not a lot to go on.”

“Please, Tucker. Don’t. I just want this to be over.”