Page 38 of Survivor
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Taylor
Groaning, Taylor rolled his shoulders and bent to touch his toes, stretching his sore muscles. Between their fervent lovemaking up against the bedroom wall and spending the night on the couch, his body ached and was tied in knots. But there was no way in hell he was sleeping in that bed. “I know it sounds insane and you probably think I’m this jealous asshole, but knowing that you screwed him in that bed makes me see red, Frank. Just the thought of sitting on it, sleeping on it, much less making love to you on it, makes my skin crawl.”
“I get that, I do, but neither of us was a virgin coming into this relationship, Tay. We both have pasts and…wait, don’t stand there.” Frank went off topic, taking him by the arm and moving him to the other side of the stove. “I fucked Trevor on that countertop once.”
Sighing, Taylor rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay. I get the point, Frank. But the bed, it’s intimate and personal. Knowing you two were togetherin that fucking bed—it has to go, Frankie.” He watched as what he was saying finally sank in, the light bulb going off above Frank’s head.
Nodding, he leaned in for a quick kiss. “That makes sense, Taylor. Sorry I didn’t see it before.”
They were just finishing breakfast when Valerie arrived, Frank saying a quick hello on his way out the door for his shift. “I’m fine, Mom, I promise. It was just a lot to take in all at once, you know.”
“Can I see the picture?” He walked over to the bar and grabbed it, handing it to her as he took a seat beside her on the couch again. “Oh my goodness, look at how cute you were. And Emily, your mom, you have her eyes.” Taylor didn’t miss the catch in her voice when she said the wordmom.
“Hey, look at me.” Taylor took the picture and set it on the coffee table. “Yes, she’s my mother, she gave birth to me and I loved her so much, I miss her every day. But you are my mother too, Val, don’t ever doubt that.” He pulled her into his arms and hugged her, rubbing her back.
Standing, he held a hand out to her. “Want to go shopping with me?”
“Of course, dear, for what?” She smiled.
Walking to the door, Taylor plucked his keys from the hook in the hall and opened it, ushering his mom out first. Then closing and locking it behind him. “A new bed.”
“Is there something wrong with the one you have?” she asked, truly baffled.
“You could say that.”
~ ~ ~
After purchasing the new king-sized bed to replace Frank’s queen-sized and paying extra to have it delivered that afternoon and the other hauled off, Taylor and his mom went to Jason’s Deli for lunch. They hadn’t had an afternoon, just the two of them, in well over a year. It was something Val insisted on from the start, that Taylor have some time with just her as well as just him and Charles so that he got the one-on-one attention a growing boy needed from his parents. Sitting in the restaurant with her talking about mundane shit reminded Taylor how lucky he was to have the Stones in his life. He wondered what his life would have been like if they hadn’t fostered him. Taylor knew he was one of the lucky ones. Life could have turned out very differently for him if not for Frank’s intervention.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy, Taylor.” Val reached across the table, covering his hand with hers. “He really is the one.”
Grinning like an idiot, he was certain, Taylor nodded. “He is, Mom. I love him so much that sometimes it makes me crazy.”
“How so?” she asked.
“Well, the new bed, for instance. When I found out that the Fed was Frank’s part-time boy toy, that they’d been together at the apartment, the fucking bed had to go.” Taylor sighed, still unwavering in his decision to get a new bed.
Val laughed softly. “Well, I don’t see how that is crazy at all. I completely understand the need to remove anything from the home that reminds you that your partner was intimate with another person. Just remember, the same goes for you, Son. If Frank has a problem with something you want to bring into the home you two now share, you have to let it go; that’s only fair.” She waved her spoon at him. “And you know I don’t like that language.” He had to laugh then. It was true. In fact, there was a swear jar in the kitchen of their house that Taylor swore funded several of their trips to the Vineyard.
“I love you, Mom; I miss this, us talking and laughing. Let’s make it a date to do this at least once a month.”
Swallowing the food in her mouth first, she agreed. “I’d like that very much, Taylor. Now, tell me, how’s the job search going?”
“I’m meeting with the hiring manager at Resource Center next Tuesday.” Resource Center Dallas was an LGBTQ organization for at-risk youth that specialized in HIV counseling. Taylor didn’t have to work at a job that paid him, he could easily put his degree to work for the people that truly needed help but couldn’t pay for it. After his parents died and the estate was finally settled, there was a trust fund opened for Taylor that he gained access to on his twenty-first birthday. Between selling the house and most of the contents, life insurance payouts for Emily and Sean Langford, closing bank accounts, and cashing in stocks, bonds, and retirement plans, Taylor had over five hundred thousand dollars in the trust. With the Stones adopting and raising him and a scholarship to college, Taylor hadn’t even touched one penny of the money until about a year ago. There had been no need.
“That’s wonderful news, Taylor; I hope you get it. Those kids would be lucky to have you in their corner.”
On the drive back to the apartment, they stopped at the local Target so Taylor could pick up groceries and new bedding, arriving back home just a few minutes before the new bed was delivered. While he put away groceries and decided what to cook for dinner, his mom started the washer, cycling through the new bedding. Setting his iPod in the dock, he flipped through his album of songs, deciding on some classic rock. Time flew by then, the clock showing it was six far sooner than Taylor thought it should, and his mom gathered her things to leave. “Hang on, take some chili with you.” He grabbed a large plastic container from the cabinet, filling it and making sure the lid was secure before handing it to her.
He said good-bye on the stoop, waiting for Val to get into her car and drive away, then went back inside, closing and locking the door behind him. Wondering where Frank was, Taylor found his phone on the bar, seeing a missed call and a text from Frank, smiling as he read the message.
Frankie: Hey babe, running a little late, Davis talked to the cousin this afternoon and wants to brief Caleb and me. Miss you, love you, can’t wait to break in our new bed.
Taylor fired off a quick response telling Frank that the bed had fresh, new, clean sheets and was ready to be christened. He’d just opened a bottle of wine when there was a knock at the door. “Who the hell?” he muttered, unlocking and opening the door.
He didn’t recognize the man on his welcome mat. Tall, late forties with graying dark-brown hair, wearing jeans, a button-up shirt with a blazer, and Taylor saw what looked like a press badge in the shirt pocket. “Mr. Taylor?” the man asked.
