Cover image from Free Stock Photos: Railroad Track On A Fall Day by Curtis Dean Wilson
Aiden finds Eoin at home, grieving for Wendy. Aiden didn’t know that the other man loved Wendy. Eoin knew she was back, and had been in touch with her before her return.
“Why didn’t she ever call me? I’d have talked.”
“I know, Aiden. And I don’t mean to belittle, but you’re so young.”
“I’m almost nineteen!”
“And she was far older than you, in ways you can’t imagine.”
“I knew about her father and grandfather.”
“But you didn’t know the worst, and I won’t be the one to tell you. She was working up the courage to tell you about the baby. She had petitioned to get her back, but it was so expensive. She said she had a way to get the money, but didn’t explain and I didn’t ask. I should have. And now, she’s dead. Whatever plan she had, exploded on her.”
“Have you talked to the police about what you know?”
Eoin gave him a patient stare. “I’m a flamboyant drag queen, who works in the hottest club in town. Do you think they’ll take a thing I say, seriously.”
“I know a cop who will. I promise. She’s the best. She’ll listen. Will you talk to her?”
Pressing his lips together, Eoin nodded. “For Wendy. You can f**king rot,” he teased.
“Thanks a heap,” Aiden replied, punching his friend’s arm.
Wincing, Eoin clutched his arm.
“What happened?” Aiden stood, pulling the colorful, silk gently aside.
Eoin’s entire arm was covered in livid bruises, his torso was also black and blue. His face and legs were clear, but Aiden suspected that his genitals had probably also taken a beating. He sat carefully, guarding the tenderest spots.
“Who did this?”
“It does! Who did it!”
“No one cares what happens to a drag queen,” Eoin protested.
“I care! Detective Weinstein will care!”
“This isn’t her jurisdiction.”
“You’ll find with her, that doesn’t matter much. She will care, and will do something. You have to speak up, tell what you know. Please.”
“I already said I would. Let me get dressed. Don’t worry, I’ll be conservative.”
He came back, a few minutes later, wearing black, relaxed fit, jeans and a red silk tee with a black button-up shirt over it. His earrings were small, gold hoops. He wore a ring on his right hand, that looked like a wedding band, and an expensive gold watch.
“Nice clock,” Aiden remarked, pointing.
“I get paid well, prancing around in f**k me pumps,” he replied. “If you ever need a summer job, I can hook you up.”
“I’ll pass. I’m not wearing a dress.”
Eoin whooped. “We do ladies’ night. Body like that, you could make a mint.”
“My mother would disown me.”
Rolling his eyes, Eoin snorted. Picking up his wallet, keys and sunglasses, he declared himself ready.
“I’ll drive us. You shouldn’t be driving as beat up as you are.”
“No, I shouldn’t. How will I get home?”
“I’ll bring you, after I pick up my brothers.”
They talked a little on the way, but Aiden could tell that Eoin was in a lot of pain.
“Did you report this?” he asked.
“Why bother. Dickless will just get out again.”
“It was Troy?”
Eoin didn’t say anything, his silence was confirmation enough for Aiden. “He has a golden ticket down your way. Rumor has it, he’s got a f**k buddy with magic hands, who can make things disappear at will.” He wiggled his fingers in the air by his head.
Strangely, Aiden wasn’t terribly surprised about Eoin’s suggestion that Troy was gay. He’d suggested it before, and it seemed to fit what he knew of him.
“Troy’s in jail in Port Orange. I’m assured his magic ticket won’t get him out up there.”
“There is a God,” Eoin said with a happy sigh. “And right now, the old sod is smiling.”
Deirdre had worked hard on her novel all day. It was going directions she hadn’t anticipated, but felt good about. Fred called her around 1:00.
“I thought I’d take a chance, since you said that Aiden would transport the boys. How’s the day?”
“I slept in until eight o’clock, and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast with two cups of hot coffee.”
“Hot? What a miracle!”
She usually had to finish it cold, or nuke it. “I actually managed to decided on dinner ahead of time. I found roasts on sale at Publix, buy one get one.”
“Sweet! I’m gonna miss roast sandwiches tomorrow! Dammit!”
© 2018 Dellani Oakes