“My parents live in Texas,” I slur. “Hate my dad. Hate my stepmom.”
Ladonna’s eyes widen. “Of course.” She looks at Pete, who seems to understand what her mouth isn’t saying.
Pete stares at me, almost frantic. “Where do they live, little man? Do you know the address?”
I try to speak, but nothing comes out, so I point at my wallet in the bowl by the door. Pete rushes over and grabs the bowl before returning, turning the bowl over and letting everyone’s wallets fall to the floor. Austin’s is pink, with a big picture of Sailor Moon in the middle, and it smacks me right in the forehead when it lands. I manage the strength to lift my arm and flip Pete off. “Prick.”
Pete lifts my wallet—purple with silver crescent moons—and asks, “Is this it?”
I nod, because it’s kind of my pride and joy. Inside, there’s a postcard my father sent to Austin’s house, in hopes that it might find me. It’s just an old family Christmas card, me excluded, and there’s a nasty note on the back, telling me how much happier they were without me. Telling me to never come back. Telling me I’d be better off killing myself than spreading my fag filth across town. Folded in half I can’t see the hate, only the smiling face of my dad. I can almost pretend like it wasn’t all bad. I can almost pretend like he still loves me.
“Great.” Ladonna scolds. “This is just great. You’ve probably scared the poor boy out of his mind.” I’m unable to move, every muscle in my body feeling sluggish and impossibly heavy. She touches my face again. I don’t pull away. “Don’t be scared, Ezra. I’m right here. Momma Ladonna is right here.”
Momma.
I sniffle, because I haven’t had one of those in a really long time.
“Help,” I whisper, but it’s loud enough for her to hear.
“There’s nothing for anyone to help you with. I promise, you’re safe, I won’t let anything happen to you.” she assures me, even though I don’t feel safe in the slightest. She runs her fingers through my hair. “Your hair is beautiful. All pink like the buttercups that grow out back in the meadow, back home. You’re going to love it there, sugar. You and I are going to be such good friends.” She strokes my cheek again. “Barbara made it very clear that you and I are going to be very good friends.”
“Johnny,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “Bubs.” I close my eyes—just to rest them for a second—and when I do, Pete breathes what sounds like a sigh of relief.
“Thank God. Okay, now that he’s out, we just need to—”
Whatever he’s saying sounds like it’s said through a mouth filled with marbles. It doesn’t even sound like words, just random vowels strung together with no real rhyme or reason for their placement. I think I hear him mention Jaden, but I can’t be sure. All I know is my eyes won’t open, I’m scared and lonely, and I want my boyfriends.
There’s a scuffle in the background, and I think I hear Austin’s voice, but then the whole world fades, me along with it.
Ezra. My sweet boy. My good boy. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him as happy as he is right now. He’s wearing a long, flowing robe with golden and green embroidery, monogrammed with his initials across the center. There’s an angelic glow like Della Reese and Roma Downey Jr. had on Touched by an Angel.God I hate that fuckin’ show. My ex-wife used to watch it every night before bed, so it’s a glow I’m more than familiar with, and it suits my Ezzy well.
His lips meet mine, and it’s like a religious experience in its own right, claiming and dominating, demanding every ounce of my devotion. That’s fine. I give it willingly.
“I love you,” I tell him, because he’s gotta know. I need him to know.
Oh God, and Johnny. He’s behind me, rocking against me, calling my name, a symphony of Bubba, Bubba—
“Dammit, Bubba, wake up! He’s gone!”
My eyes shoot open.
“Ezra?” I sit up, but I’m a little too fast, not taking account of Johnny, who’s standing beside the bed, kneeling over me, and I bang the top of my head against his chin.
“Fuck!” Johnny shouts, and when I look up, he’s rubbing his jaw, and there are tears in his eyes. I brush his hand away and hold him.
“I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to hurt—”
He shakes his head. “It ain’t that. He’s gone.” He’s staring down at Ezra’s spot in the bed. Empty. Cold. The bedroom door is open, and the hallway light is on. “I looked all over the house.” He looks dumbfounded, staring off into space like he took a Valium a little while back, and it’s just now kicking in. I know that ain’t what’s going on here, because Johnny doesn’t like Valium highs, but the fact remains, he’s staring into the void like he’s stupid or something. “Ezra’s gone.”
“What do you mean, gone? Where would he go?”
“Fuck if I know, but he’s gone, and he ain’t the only ones.” He pauses, looking scared to say whatever he needs to say.
“And what?”
“Momma and Pete.”
“What about them?”
