Page 111 of Enemy
“You’ll be the first to know if something happens,” I tell him, wondering if that unsettled feeling at the pit of my stomach is me being uncomfortable with talking aboutgay sex to anyone but Clyde, or if Isaacisbeing creepy. Guys talk shit about women all the time, so why should it surprise me gay men would discuss their potential partners the same way? But it does. It felt as if he’s sprung it on me out of nowhere, trying to work out what I like, and if our taste is compatible. Which it is not.
I like good head like every other guy, but it’s disrespectful to talk about Clyde’s potential skill at it when we’re discussing him being my fiancé. Not to mention that comment about rough sex and younger guys, many of whom might not exactly know what they want yet. I’ve been there. I know.
It’s nothing new, really, plenty wannabe Casanovas around, but this whole conversation has left me feeling like I’ve fingered a stranger and forgot to wash my hands after.
There’s not much left to say, we share a few more words about the bikes, the Butchers in general, and I’m off.
But when I pass a large van with one side cut out, I spot the teens from earlier. They’re hanging out inside it, on sun chairs and a few large pillows. They’re drinking something that could be pop but probably has added booze.
I’m headed home, to Clyde, and I still have a lot to deal with once he makes a list of things he needs, but the niggling feeling in my stomach becomes a ringing alarm and I circle back.
“Hey kid,” I call out, zeroing in on the boy who all but came out to me earlier. He pokes his chest, as if not believing I’m wasting my precious time on him, but when I nod, he rises to his feet and walks my way, watched by several pairs of eyes.
As he approaches, I’m stuck wrestling the thought that maybe I’m making a big deal out of nothing. I’ve never once heard anyone gossiping about Isaac, and he is not known for hanging out with any kids either. Some guys are just bad about feeling out the audience for their sex jokes, so maybe Isaac’s only crime was assuming I’ll be happy to hear about his sexual preferences? Or maybe not. There was that guy five years ago who liked to talk big about his sexual fantasies, and he turned out to be a creep for real. Bastard snuck into some teenage girl’s room at night, after convincing her he was in love with her. Am I a hypocrite for being more worried about a boy, just because I used to be him? Maybe. Either way, I’d rather blow on cold food than burn my lips.
Big eyes stare at me in attention from under the floppy bangs. “Yes?”
I put my hand on his shoulders and look straight back at him, to convey that my message is serious. A bit of fear won’t hurt him. “This is just between you and me. Your ears only, understood?”
His pupils widen and he nods like one of those dolls with bobble heads. “Yes. Of course. A hundred percent.”
“Good. You know Isaac, the mechanic?” When the kid nods, I go on. “Don’t hang out with him. Especially not solo. Can you do that for me?”
He opens his mouth, and I can almost hear the ‘why?’, but he’s smart enough to hold it in. “Y-yes. Sure.”
“Good.” I ruffle his hair and shove him back to his friends who watch on like hawks. Or vultures for that matter, eager to get their lump of rotting-flesh-gossip, but I have a feeling the kid will do as told and keep his mouth shut. I’m about to walk off when the teen clears his throat.
“Will Clyde Turner be at the bonfire later?”
I keep myself from grinning and nod before hurrying toward the canteen. Fifteen minutes later, I’m climbing my hill with sandwiches for us both. So many issues occupy my thoughts and demand attention that the buzzing of the telephone in my pocket feels like an intrusion, but I pick up the call anyway.
“Hello?”
“Roadkill. That’s what you’ll be soon.” A deep voice I know but can’t place.
“You’re too late, jokester. That’s how they already call me,” I say and sit on a mossy trunk, because I’m not going home until this conversation is over.
“It’s Grizzly, you fuck. And I’m calling you, not Prophet, because we all know Clyde is your call. You saw what he did to Puck. You need to hand him over. And yes, this is a threat.”
I freeze, because all I can think about is that he should not have my number, and if he does, that means there is a leak of some kind. Then again, maybe they found it somewhere at Clyde’s?
I swallow and focus on the canvas bag containing the food as I imagine the Butcher president grinding his teeth in his leather chair, somewhere in their compound. He must hate that Clyde made him look like an idiot by faking his own death.
“I’ve known you for years, and your threats no longer work on me, Griz. Besides, he never revealed any secrets. We were just fucking like bunnies, good clean fun.”
“Don’t fucking test me! You think you can pull my nephew into your gay shit, and just get away with it?” He’s yelling into the phone. He must be losing his mind about this.
I want to protest, but I did technically pull Clyde in as if he were the biggest fish in the pond, so instead I rest my elbows on my knees and sigh. “I thought you were pissed he betrayed you. Which he did not,” I lie, because Clyde did cross a line when he warned me. And when he killed Puck for me.
“Anything he did with you was a betrayal. You being still alive is his betrayal. Bringing me your head would have maybe given him a chance, but we both know he’s not doing that, is he? So it’s in your hands. Give. Him. Up. Whatever you think the consequences might be? They will be worse.”
My mouth’s dry, and the birdsongs above are muted, as if I’m wearing earplugs. That’s what this bastard thinks of me? That I would give up someone who saved my life? “Look, I don’t know how a real family should work, but he’s the son of your brother, isn’t he? And you don’t have your own kids. Why not bury the hatchet?”
I hear how heavy Grizzly’s breathing is. “He made his choice. He is not my nephew anymore. He’s dead to me. Taken by the Vultures like Roy. I know it was one of you.”
Yeah, it was me, burns at the back of my throat, but I won’t say it for the sake of shocking him now. The truth would put Clyde, me, and everyone in Vulture Hollow in even more danger. As selfish as I can be, that’s a line I won’t cross. My hands tighten, balling into fists until the phone creaks against my ear, but the fire blazing in my chest roars, rising, until I can almost smell smoke.
“Well, good. He doesn’t need family that’s so ready to burn down his life. I will be his family now. I will put a ring on his finger, and give him my last name, so he can forget that he ever sharedanythingwith the likes of you. If that wasn’t clear enough, no, I’m not giving him up. You want him? You’ll have to go through me. Puck had it coming,” and so did Kalash, but I’m not sure what Grizzly knows about him dying by Clyde’s hand, “and anyone standing between me and Clyde can expect the same treatment. I’d sooner let you drag me over gravel by my guts than give him up.”
