Wayward Son (15 page)

“Just sit anywhere you like, boys, and I’ll be right with you.” The older woman who greeted them from beside the counter set a jarring tone against the midcentury-modern diner décor. She had sleek red hair in a modern cut and wore jeans, a T-shirt with “Mama’s Diner” on the front, and black sneakers. She did have the typical pencil behind an ear, apron around her waist, and order pad in one hand, though.

“Thanks, Martha.” And a fitting name, Mikey thought, though he marveled again that his father had been here often enough to know it. Once again he followed his dad, this time to a two-seater booth against the front windows. They slid into the booth, and his dad grabbed two menus from the holder at the back of the booth, then handed one over.

“Pretty much everything’s good here,” he said, his gaze running down the laminated sheet. “The fries are the best, and you can get chili cheese fries if you want.” He grinned over the menu at Mikey, the expression so unusual that Mikey could only stare. “I have to watch all that stuff now. Not as young as I used to be. But, man, I could put a plate of those things away when I was your age.”

It was all Mikey could do not to look around for the hidden cameras.

Martha bustled over in another minute with glasses of ice water, and Mikey absently ordered a hamburger and the chili cheese fries with a Coke. Once Martha had gone, Mikey put his menu back in the rack and picked up his water to take a sip.

“You know, if what they’re saying is true, we can always resolve things quietly, get you into treatment.”

Mikey nearly spewed all over the table. “It’s not true!” he spat out. He managed to keep himself from yelling his denial, but only just. “Oh my God. I would never do anything like that to any kid.” His stomach twisted at the thought. “I’m gay, Dad. I’m not sick, I’m not confused, and I am not any kind of pedophile. If that’s what you think, then maybe I should just call a cab and get out of your hair right now.”

He set his glass back on the table harder than necessary and started to slide out of the booth, but before he could stand, his father’s hand landed on his arm. “All right, calm down,” Rev. O’Malley said. “I just had to ask. No need to overreact.”

Mikey rolled his eyes but stayed in his seat. “I’m not overreacting. You think there’s something wrong with me because I don’t like girls. I could maybe agree to disagree on that, but you had to go and make things worse.” He curled his lip. “What about all the priests and preachers who have messed with kids? How would you feel if people thought you were a pedophile just because you’re a pastor?”

Mikey’s father froze for a long moment before nodding. “All right. You got me there. Sorry. I’m not going the change my mind about the rest of it, but I apologize for making an assumption like that.”

Mikey’s skin still crawled at the thought of anyone—let alone his own father—thinking he could do something like that, but he didn’t want to prolong the topic. “Apology accepted.”

Martha arrived with their lunches just then, and as soon as she left Mikey picked up a fry, though his appetite had fled. Rev. O’Malley grabbed the bottle of mustard from the basket at the end of the table and flipped the top bun off his fried chicken sandwich. “If Warren asks you—”

“I’ll tell him the same thing I told you,” Mikey retorted. He dropped the fry. “The fact that I’m gay is completely beside the point. I don’t even know if the lady who filed the suit knows.”

His father frowned. “She must not. Otherwise she wouldn’t have targeted you.”

Mikey sighed and slid down in his seat. “I don’t think it matters,” he said. “If she knew, she’d probably figure that would just help her case. I mean, people already think homosexuals are all pedophiles anyway.” He shot his father a look and was gratified to see him flush.

“All right,” his father murmured in a sort of tacit apology. He tilted his head. “Then why did she target you?”

Mikey rolled his eyes and sat up, reaching for another fry. “To get to you,” he said. He’d thought it was obvious, but apparently not. “I don’t know if she’s got some kind of vendetta going on, or if she’s just freaking out about what happened to her daughter and some crazy lawyer got ahold of her. But I sure don’t have anything for her to go after. You’ve got money and prestige and a church full of followers. It would be a big deal if your son was a child molester, so you’re a perfect target for legalized blackmail.” He lifted an eyebrow. “And if she does find out I’m gay, that only makes it worse for you. It’s just another way to try to get you to pay her off.”

Mikey stopped talking then and forced himself to actually eat a few of the fries he’d been fiddling with. His father had taken a big bite of his sandwich, but he seemed to be having trouble chewing.
Bet it tastes like cardboard now, doesn’t it?
Mikey thought. He immediately felt ashamed. He and his father might disagree on a lot of things, but that didn’t mean his father deserved to be mixed up in this mess any more than Mikey did.

His father swallowed finally and took a sip of water. “What does your lawyer say we should do?”

“Fight it,” Mikey replied. “Don’t give in. Figure out whatever we can to prove that she’s lying. Or wrong, at least.” He reached for his burger, hunger overcoming everything else, and took a big bite. It was delicious, though it hardly mattered. It was food.

His father nodded. “Warren will probably have some ideas,” he said. “It’s… well, it’s not the first time I’ve been a target. Probably won’t be the last.” He leaned forward. “Though for the record, I hope it never again involves you. You and I may have our differences, but I would never want for you to end up in the line of fire of someone trying to get to me.”

Mikey could only nod in response, partly because he had another bite of burger in his mouth and partly because he didn’t know what he could say. He didn’t know this version of his father, and meeting him like this threw him for a loop. He just hoped this guy would stick around because, despite their differences, he kind of liked him.

“R
OBERT
,
GOOD
to see you.” Warren Vickery, a short, rotund but well-polished man in a three-piece suit, greeted Mikey’s father with a firm handshake. He turned to Mikey. “You must be Michael.”

Mikey nodded and took the hand that was offered. Mr. Vickery gestured toward the seats facing his desk. “Please have a seat, and let’s see what I can do for you.”

Mikey settled stiffly into the chair. He’d spent more time facing lawyers in the past week than he had his entire life. He could deal with never having to do it again.

Mikey’s father got straight to the point. “Warren, it seems a former employee of mine has filed a lawsuit alleging that Michael molested her daughter some nine years ago. Michael has a lawyer in Atlanta on the case, but of course because the lawsuit was filed in Florida, we feel it’s time to bring in someone licensed here.”
We do?
Mikey thought, but he kept quiet. “I told Michael you’ve handled a few things for me in the past and might have some insight about the best approach.”

Mr. Vickery turned his attention to Mikey. “I assume, Michael, that you unequivocally deny the allegations in the lawsuit? Please be assured that I will take your response under attorney-client privilege, so you should be honest.”

Mikey nodded, his stomach twisting at the thought. “I never did any of that stuff. I worked at the water park when she said I did, but I don’t remember her or her daughter, and anyway, I would never do anything like that to any kid. Ever.”

Mr. Vickery nodded. “Good. I just wanted to be clear on that up front.” He opened a leather portfolio to reveal a legal pad and picked up a pen.
Oh great, more notes,
Mikey thought.

“Michael, I’d like you to start from the beginning and give me a brief recap of when you first learned of the lawsuit and what has happened since then.”

Mikey sighed and leaned back in his seat.
Here we go again.

T
HE
MEETING
didn’t take as long as Mikey had feared. Just over an hour after they’d arrived, they were saying their good-byes, with Mr. Vickery assuring them both he would begin looking into options and would set up a call with Charles Day immediately. When they were back in the car, Mikey’s father turned to him.

“Do you want to stay with us while you’re here?”

A day earlier Mikey’s response would’ve been a slightly more polite version of “oh hell no,” but the surprise of the past few hours with his father softened his feelings about that possibility. Not enough to make him say yes, though.

“I’m going to stay with Kitty,” he said. “I texted her on the way to the church this morning, and I’m supposed to meet her this afternoon. If you need to get back to your office, you can just take me with you and I can get a cab from there. Or I could get a cab from here.”

He reached for his door handle, but his father lifted a hand. “I can take you wherever you need to go,” he said. “It’s no imposition. Is the park the best place? I could take you to the apartment.”

Mikey settled back into his seat. “No, I don’t still have a key. There’s a shopping center a few miles from the apartment complex that has a bookstore where I can wait for her.”

“All right, then.” His father started the car. “Just tell me where I need to go.”

M
IKEY
FIDDLED
with his phone, trying to tell himself he should call or text somebody back in Atlanta to check in. Heck, he didn’t know if anyone knew he’d left town. The text from Cory hadn’t given any hints anyone knew anything. Cory had no reason to think he wasn’t still at Riley’s, and Riley would assume he’d gone back to Cory’s. But Mikey had charged the ticket using the card Riley had gotten him in his name on Riley’s account to use for emergencies, and Riley might check the account and see the charge anytime. Mikey planned to pay back the charges as soon as he got back to Atlanta, but he knew it would be better—on several levels—if he fessed up before Riley and the others found out.

Mikey blew out a breath and tipped his head back. He’d call later, once he’d talked to Kitty and had all this stuff straight in his head. He still couldn’t believe how laid-back his father had been. If he’d been that blasé about Mikey being gay, then maybe he never would’ve left.

No
, he thought.
You needed to get away anyway.
Too many eyes on him and too much pressure. Being the son of a minor local celebrity meant anything he did could come under scrutiny. There’d already been some talk, or so his mother had told him, because he didn’t go to church every Sunday. That hadn’t been optional when he was a kid, but once he graduated from high school, his father told him they wouldn’t force it on him. It would be his decision. His mother hadn’t been too happy about that, so he still went sometimes. But the past few years, the only times he’d been to the church campus had been for Easter and Christmas services.

It wasn’t that he didn’t believe. Mikey still considered himself Christian, even though the things he’d heard from the pulpit didn’t always jibe with what he read in the Bible he’d had since he was ten. He and Kitty had had some long conversations about all that. She was a believer too; she just didn’t believe the same way their parents did. The church Kitty attended had a tattooed muscle man for a preacher and a spot every year in the Orlando Pride parade. That was a far cry from the conservative congregation Mikey’s dad led.

“Mikey!”

The squeal of his name ripped Mikey out of his ruminations, and he just barely had time to get to his feet before Kitty barreled into him. She wasn’t a small girl by any means. She had a good two inches and nearly a hundred pounds on him, but she carried her weight in curves and muscle. Her voluptuous hourglass figure turned heads as much as the ombré purple tips at the ends of her blonde hair.

“Oh my God, it’s so good to see you!” Kitty hugged him tight and then held him at arm’s length, giving him a critical once-over. “You look like you’ve lost weight, and you know you’re already too skinny. And I could pack for a week in those bags under your eyes. What the hell is going on with you?”

Kitty never was one to pull her punches. Mikey had to laugh. “Can we hold off on all that until we get to your place?” He bent to pick up his backpack. “It’s kind of a long story. Actually it’s, like, three long overlapping stories.”

Kitty tilted her head. “How much alcohol will these stories require?”

“All of it,” Mikey replied, shouldering into his backpack. “I hope you’re well stocked.”

“Always.” Kitty waved a hand over her shoulder. “Traffic shouldn’t be too bad this early, so we’ll be there in fifteen and have drinks in our hands in another five.”

“Lead the way.”

“M
ARGARITA
?”

“God yes,” Mikey replied.

As soon as they got in the door, Kitty disappeared into the kitchen and started rummaging around to get their drinks together. She still lived in the two-bedroom apartment they’d shared. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it had worked fine for them, and not long before Mikey left, Kitty landed a new job that meant she could afford the place on her own: she joined the corps of women who played the role of Ursula in Disney’s various shows based on
The Little Mermaid
. She’d auditioned for the part several times, starting during her senior year of college at the University of Florida, where she’d majored in music with an emphasis in vocal performance. She figured her voice and size made her perfect for the role, but it wasn’t until this summer that she’d finally made the cut.