It had taken a week for it to sink in before he realized Amber had left for good and Lillie was his responsibility. He’d been lugging the stroller up the front steps to the apartment building when Mrs. Kirsch, the self-appointed mayor of their block and knower of all goings-on, had stopped him and offered to look after Lillie. When he was working days as a waiter, Sylvia would stay in their apartment. Once he started working late nights, Lillie would stay in Sylvia’s second bedroom, and Tyler would bring her home around four a.m. and put her to bed back in their apartment. It was far from an ideal situation, but it was all he could afford right now, until he made enough money to hire someone to watch her in his apartment all night.
Sylvia’s kindness had proved to be a godsend to him. Lillie adored her, and Sylvia got a surrogate granddaughter to spoil. The two of them spent hours together, and Sylvia, a former schoolteacher, had begun teaching Lillie to read. That eased his worry because he didn’t have money for a private preschool, nor did he have the papers to prove he was Lillie’s legal guardian. Plus, he didn’t want her natural curiosity and inquisitive nature to be stifled because he couldn’t properly provide for her.
“How about some hot cocoa?” Tyler shut the door and went to the kitchen. “Or I could make some coffee before I leave for work.”
“You don’t have to do anything. We have everything under control, don’t we, Lillie?”
“Yes, Uncle Ty. We’re gonna bake brownies, and Grandma Sylvia said we can make princess crowns ’cause we’re reading princess stories.”
He chuckled, happy to disappear and not get covered in the inevitable glitter extravaganza. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. I have to get ready.”
Tyler quickly showered, dressed, and packed up his bag with his outfit for the evening and toiletries for his post-work routine. After a dutiful peck on the cheek from Lillie and a brief discussion with Sylvia about making sure Lillie didn’t take advantage of her—which he knew would be promptly ignored as soon as he walked out the door—he left.
The air flowed clean and fresh through his slightly damp hair, rustling the last of the late autumn leaves on the trees. Twilight had already descended upon the city, bathing the sky in its murky darkness. Porch lights snapped on, and lamps glowed behind curtains as he passed the well-kept single-family homes lining the street on his way to the train. He liked to play a mental game, imagining the people living in these beautiful houses, secretly wishing he could one day afford something nicer for Lillie than the slightly run-down one-bedroom they lived in now, especially since the small, dingy bedroom she slept in faced a brick wall.
He ran to catch the train, hearing its squeal of brakes as it slowed to pull into the station. Breathing hard, he found a seat on the surprisingly empty subway car, stuck in his headphones, and turned on his music. He used this downtime to plan his dances for the evening. Contrary to what most people thought, he didn’t simply go out on the dance floor, shake his ass, and display his crotch.
When he got to the club, he’d meet with the DJ, and he’d discuss the choice of music he wanted for the night. In the month and a half that he’d been working at Sparks, he’d become enough of an attraction that Marcus agreed to give him a headliner status for part of the evening. The other dancers complained at first, but Marcus, in his usual, flippant attitude, told them to either step it up or shut up.
Marcus.
They’d been cordial but nothing more to each other since the morning Marcus had shown up at Tyler’s apartment and kissed him into such a state of oblivion Tyler swore his toes remained permanently curled. Perhaps finding out he was the sole provider for a four-year-old child had finally dampened the strange attraction that always seemed to spark whenever they were together. Marcus was the furthest thing from a father figure Tyler could imagine.
He reached his stop and exited the train, then hurried up the stairs. The sky had darkened from the lavender of twilight to inky blue and not many people were about. It was an in-between time of the early evening when many people were either at home, making dinner plans, or finishing up their shopping before heading home.
Tyler turned the corner on Varick St. and headed toward the back entrance of Sparks when he heard footsteps rushing toward him. With no chance to react, he found himself thrown up against the wall beside the door used as the employee entrance for the club. His head connected with the rough concrete and stars exploded in his eyes, rendering him incapable of movement.
Taking advantage of his momentary incompetence, the men grabbed him under his arms and propelled him down an alley, heedless to his flailing legs and moaning. His head felt as though it had split apart.
“Shut up, faggot or you’ll end up with no teeth.”
Chilled by the flat deadliness of the assailant’s voice, Tyler remained quiet. If they killed him, what would happen to Lillie? He had no time to think of anything else as punches began to rain down on his body. Instinctively Tyler attempted to protect himself by curling into a ball, but the men continued to beat him until he sagged between them. At that point they dropped him, and after aiming a few swift kicks at his kidneys, took his phone and smashed it to the ground, then took off running.
He had no idea how long he lay there, blinded by pain and unable to take a deep breath. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, and he moaned. Several minutes passed before he felt safe enough to check how badly he was hurt. His arms and legs moved without difficulty, but when he tried to sit up the pain flashed through his side so piercingly white hot he cried out loud. Tyler suspected he had at least one broken rib if not more, considering the beating he took.
Taking in short breaths that didn’t force him to inhale too deeply, Tyler began the long, arduous task of crawling out from the alley to the street in an attempt to get help. After what seemed like hours, he’d just made it back to the opening of the alleyway when he heard heavy footsteps. Cringing, fearful that the men had returned to finish him off, Tyler held his breath.
“What the hell?” A familiar voice rang out in the dark. “Are you hurt, man?”
“Darius…help me.” Tyler could barely formulate the words; the excruciating pain that seared through his chest wiped out the last ounce of his strength.
“Tyler?” Darius’s voice rose with anxiety. “Holy shit, man, what happened? Hold on; I’m getting help.”
“No, no ambulance. Just some broken ribs.”
“You need to go to the hospital.”
He licked his impossibly dry lips. “No insurance. Help me up, please.”
With a gentleness that belied his size, Darius assisted him to his feet. For a moment he swayed and his vision blurred, turning gray at the edges. Nausea threatened, then receded. He breathed, increasing his inhalations until he could determine how far he could push himself. After several moments he managed a weak smile.
“Thanks. I think I’ll be all right.”
“The fuck you will.” Darius yelled, holding him steady. “You need medical attention.”
“I think it’s just a few broken ribs. I can get it taped up, and it’ll be fine.” His face itched from the blood that had dripped down from his hairline to his jaw.
“I’m calling Marcus.”
