“Or else you’ll regret it,” Colton said. “I would hate to see something bad happen to your friends. You should think about them.”
Matt leaned in close to Colton’s face. “You’re a fucking coward, Colton,” he hissed. “Come after me, if you can. Leave my friends out of this. Hurt ANY of them, and I promise you that you’ll be sorry.”
Matt thought of Colton’s threat as he drove to pick up Josh. Matt had privately questioned the seemingly elaborate security precautions the GM took, things like this requirement that he and Josh meet off campus (Braum’s Ice Cream store at E Memorial, in this instance) and drive together from there. Now, he was glad for William’s foresight. He didn’t want Colton connecting Josh to him, targeting Josh. He worried about his friends. Which of them did Colton have in mind?
Thirty minutes later, Matt drove north on I-35 towards Ponca City, towards Adam’s house. Josh was in the passenger seat, quietly watching Edmond fly by. The Coleus plant was snuggly tucked in the Jeep’s rear storage area.
Josh, who had been the Lion at Matt’s interview, turned out to be the strong, silent type. He had a wide face with thick cheekbones. Short, chestnut colored hair. An easy smile. He reminded Matt of Kevin Sheedy, born in Wales, but who had played for Ireland in the 1990 World Cup.
Josh was wearing shorts.
Matt enjoyed this closeup view of the guy’s muscular, hairy legs.
“How about some music?” Josh asked, reaching towards the radio.
Matt nodded, but secretly worried that Josh would pick a country station. His type usually did.
Josh dialed the radio to Magic 104. Annie Lennox’s “No More I Love You’s” filled theair.
Matt smiled.
They barreled north, past Frontier City. Past the exit to Guthrie, Oklahoma’s first capitol. They listened to music, bonding without talking. Bon Jovi’s new song “Always” played.
Matt felt a pang of longing, listening to those lyrics, sung by a man to a woman. Would he—Matt—ever feel that way about a guy? Was it even possible in this “Don’t ask, don’t tell” world? Apparently not, considering his new girlfriend situation.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” Matt asked Josh.
Josh shook his head. “Not anymore. When I was a sophomore, I had a similar arrangement as yours. Three, four months later we broke up. It was enough to quell any questions about our sexuality, hers and mine. Since then, the straight girls have given up hope on me. I’m nursing a broken heart, you know.”
“And Harley?” Matt asked, picking one of the other seniors in the GM.
“He’s in a long distance relationship with a fictional girl, who happens to live in my neck of the woods,” Josh smiled. “Every few months when I head home to visit my folks, William whips up a steamy love letter from her to Harley. I drop it in the mail.”
They drove past Perry, home of “Ditch Witch,” Seth’s home town, also the area where Timothy McVay, the Murrah Building bomber, had been stopped by the Highway Patrol.
Finally came exit 214 to Ponca City, home of Conoco Oil. When they drove past the refinery, the Jeep filled with a sour, sulphury smell.
Matt wrinkled his nose.
Josh said. “Adam claims the locals call that ‘the smell of money in the air.’”
At mention of Adam’s name, Matt’s stomach tightened.
Adam lived in a one-storey frame house on a street of similar such low-slung houses, where the same five floorplans repeated.
Adam’s mom, “Call-me-Janet,” met them at the door. She was a petite woman with kind eyes and a welcoming smile. Her face was creased with worry. She ushered them into a living area with a dining table in one corner. She left to fetch Adam.
Matt and Josh sat on the couch. It faced a picture window overlooking the small backyard. Josh set the Coleus between his feet.
Matt held the signed card, nervously fidgeting with it.
Adam, wearing cotton pajamas, trailed into the room behind his mom. He was hesitant, as if he still hadn’t decided whether to remain in this world. Hegave Josh a weak, half-apologetic smile, nodded at Matt vacantly. He sat in a wingchair facing his guests, pulled his knees up to his chest, hugging them.
Matt noticed a bandage on Adam’s left wrist.
Adam self-consciously covered it with his right hand.
“Would you boys like something to drink?” asked Call-me-Janet. “I have iced tea, water. I could make some Kool-Aid…”
