Second You Sin (38 page)

I looked up at him pitiful y. I wiped the blood from my eyes with my sleeve.

Locke’s face betrayed little. He stil clutched the letter opener.

I threw my arms around his legs, turning my head so my cheek pressed against his crotch.

“It’s wrong,” I gasped, stil having trouble breathing.

“I know it’s wrong for one man to feel this way about another. But I can’t help it.”

I shook my head back and forth, as if I was using Locke’s pants to wipe away my tears. Back and forth, back and forth, babbling the whole time.

“Oh, Father,” I said, “I know I’m a bad, bad boy. I just can’t stop thinking about touching you, loving you

. . .” As I continued to cry and rub my face against Locke’s jeans, he responded in the manner I expected, and soon enough the spot I was massaging with my face was a lot firmer. I made sure to make a lot of contact with his reawakened wand, breathing hotly against it at every chance.

“My son.” Locke extended a hand to help me off the floor. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the hand with the letter opener. Locke sat in his desk chair and pul ed me into his lap. Stil holding my hand, he asked me,

“Why are you wearing these?”

I took off my latex gloves. “I just felt so dirty, Father.

I didn’t want to soil you with my perversions.”

“My son,” he said tenderly. Then he took the gloves from me and threw them in the trash.

I perched on the end of his knees, but he put his arm around me and pul ed me closer, pressed me against his chest.

I didn’t like having him at my back like this, but I didn’t have much choice in the matter. Locke rested his hand on my tummy. “My son,” he said again. “You mustn’t be so hard on yourself. God understands that we are men, that we have male needs.”

I wriggled in his lap to keep him interested. His hand rubbed my stomach in slow circles.

You know you’re having a bad day when the best you can hope for is that the guy you’re trying to seduce doesn’t want to kil you until
after
you’ve have sex with him. Not that I intended to take things that far.

“Oh, Father,” I moaned, trying to make my croaking voice sound sexy instead of terrified. “The things I’ve thought about doing to you. About touching you, taking you in my mouth, feeling you inside me, oh, Father!” I was now openly riding his hard dick and Locke had moved his hand under my shirt to my nipple.

“It’s fine,” Locke groaned, his voice thick with lust. I pivoted around in his lap so I was facing him. His face was a mask of need, his mouth open and panting.

I slid off his lap, my hands running along his sides, meeting in his lap. Yuck. I wish I’d left the gloves on.

On my knees again, I reached for his belt. I opened it careful y, reverently, as if it real y was my first time doing this.

My trembling hands added to the scene, but that wasn’t pretending.

Locke moaned.

My plan was to get his pants down to his ankles and then make a run for it. I thought about punching him in the nuts while I was down there, but while he stil held on to the letter opener, that didn’t seem like such a good idea. The impact would probably make him double over, and that would just bring the dagger closer to my head.

I’d just have to take a chance on running. But then what? I stil didn’t have anything to take to the police.

If I went to them now, Locke could just deny everything and probably get
me
arrested for breaking into his campaign office.

I slid Locke’s pants down to his shoes. He was wearing white Fruit of the Looms.

All right,
I thought.
He might be a serial killer, but
he’s still a dork.

His hard-on throbbed menacingly beneath the thin cotton. In this position, it’d be hard for him to run after me. It was time for me to take off. So why couldn’t I wil my legs to move?

I could handle myself in a fight, sure. But with my life at stake? I felt my confidence evaporate like any chance I had of happiness with Tony.

Tony?
Really?
I’m thinking about Tony at a time like this?

Focus, Kevin, focus.

I had to run for it.

What if he caught me?

If only that blow to my head wasn’t so hard and I stil didn’t feel so goddamn
dizzy.

I needed another option.

I needed a miracle.

Then one arrived.

41

Guilty

“Sorry to bother you, sir,” I heard from the doorway.

“He never showed.”

Jason’s voice. From where he stood, he could see only Locke from behind, sitting in his chair.

“Ahem,” Locke said, “this isn’t the best time.” He put his hand on my head.

“Sir?”

“Just go, Jason. I’l see you tomorrow.” Locke pressed down harder, holding me in place.

“Al right, sir,” Jason said.

I pushed Locke’s hand away and jumped up.

“Jason!” I screamed.

Jason was already walking away. He turned and his eyes opened wide. “Kevin?” I saw he was looking at the open gash on my forehead.

“Jason,” I said, running toward him. “You have to help me. He’s crazy!”

Locke stood up, his pants at his ankles, his underwear tented and damp. “What are you talking about?” he asked me. Then, to Jason, “He was here when I got here tonight. He tried to seduce me!”

“Looks like it was working.” Jason chuckled. Then, remembering his position, he added, “Sir.” I grabbed Jason’s arm. “He was going to kil me.

Look!” I pointed at the letter opener in Locke’s hand.

“This?” Locke let the weapon fal from his grasp. “I didn’t even remember I had this. My mind was on . . .

other things.”

I bet.

“Don’t believe him, Jason,” I begged.

Jason put his arm around me. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and put it to my forehead. “Calm down, Kevin. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for al this.”

Jason had to believe me. “I’m not the first one he’s tried to kil ,” I told him. “There have been others.

Brooklyn Roy. And Sammy White Tee. Rueben and my friend Randy, but Randy didn’t die and . . .” Locke looked at Jason. “I don’t even know who those people are.” He looked down for a moment and then back at Jason. “Wait, there was a boy named Roy, right? And wasn’t there a Randy?” Jason squeezed my shoulder harder and started walking me out of the room. “Kevin, it sounds like you’ve had a very traumatic night. Why don’t we let Father Locke col ect himself and talk this out . . .” Locke interrupted him. “Wait a minute, Jason.

Sammy White Tee—could that have been that young man Samuel you introduced me to? The one you told me had written the fan mail?”

Jason’s eyes narrowed. “Not now, Father. Kevin, let’s get out of here.”

“No, let the boy talk,” Locke insisted. He bent over and pul ed up his pants, regaining a bit of his authority in the process. “I want to hear what he has to say.”

“No, you don’t,” Jason insisted. “It’s just a lot of nonsense and you need to . . .”

“‘Nonsense!’ ” I shouted. “No, wait, you don’t understand. Locke hired these boys, he had sex with them, and now they’re al dead or . . .” Before I had a chance to react, Jason drew his hand back and smacked me against the cheek. The unexpected impact sent me sprawling to the floor.

“That’s enough from you, Kevin.”

Locke walked toward him in long, quick steps, his arms pumping. “What are you doing, Jason? I told you . . .”

Jason turned to him in a fury. “You shut up, old man! Just shut up!”

Locke hadn’t been hit like me, but he stumbled backward anyway.

“How
dare
you,” Locke hissed. “Who do you think you are?”

“Who do I think I am?” Jason laughed. “Who do I think I am? I’m the man who made you, you old fool.

I’m your creator,
Father.
I decide what you do, who you meet, what you say, and when. I’m your scheduler and your planner and your pimp. I’m the man who’s been cleaning up your messes, the ones you’ve been stupid enough to leave behind. I’m the man you owe everything to. I’m the man who knows al your secrets, you dumb faggot. I know where the bodies are buried.

“I’m your god.”

Locke blanched and looked unsteady on his feet.

He fel back into his chair. “Judas,” he whispered under his breath. “Blasphemer.”

Jason reached behind his back and pul ed a smal pistol from his belt. He pointed it at me. “And now I have one more mess to clean up.” He sighed. “Oh, Kevin. I had such for high hopes for you.”

“No,” Locke thundered from his seat. “Jason, why are you doing this?”

“Ask your little butt buddy,” Jason answered, waving his pistol at me.

I glared at him.

“Cat got your tongue?” Jason asked me. “Oh, I forgot, you probably don’t go much for pussy, do you?”

My mind struggled to figure out what was going on here.

Locke seemed to know at least some of the boys who’d gotten kil ed, but had no idea what happened to them. Meanwhile, Jason not only knew what was going on, but the gun in his hand made me think he might be the kil er. But why?

And how come he didn’t have an accent anymore?

“How about I get you started?” Jason said, his tone condescending. “Our friend
Father Locke
here”—Jason spat out the name as if it were venom

—“has certain . . . appetites. Needs he can’t control.

Urges.”

Locke turned even paler. His eyes fil ed with tears.

“When I started working with him, I heard things around the office. Rumors. People wondered about his propensity for hiring young male interns. They talked about how he’d take them on trips with him.

Or meet behind closed doors for longer than seemed necessary. Such
ugly
rumors. Who would say such things?

“Stil , this kind of talk wasn’t going to help
me
one little bit. I hitched my wagon to Locke because I wanted to take him places. I knew from the beginning that he had political potential, and I had every intention of going along for the ride. His . . .

inconvenient
hobbies threatened to derail that train.

“Stil , it was al just rumors and scuttlebutt. The vast majority of Locke’s fol owers never heard any of it, and even if they did, those brainwashed idiots wouldn’t believe a word. I figured that as long as Locke was discreet, we’d be OK.

“Then, one day, a twenty-one-year-old office assistant came to me in tears. He said that Locke was constantly making comments about his appearance, brushing against him, touching him inappropriately. Final y, he claimed that Locke told him that if he wanted to advance in Locke’s ministry, he was going to have to do ‘whatever it took’ to get ahead.

“You remember Charlie, don’t you, sir?” Locke began to tremble. His pal or turned from white to green. He turned his head, unable to meet Jason’s eyes.

“By that time, I was working as an assistant to Locke’s chief of staff. I went to Locke and told him the situation. At first, Locke denied everything. But I was young back then, and not too bad-looking myself. It wasn’t too hard to get him talking.

“After getting him to understand just how bad a public accusation like this would be, Locke agreed to let me pay off Charlie to keep quiet. Sure, I had to skim ten thousand dol ars that we’d raised to support inner-city churches, but, hey, who cares about poor people, anyway?” He jerked his thumb over at Locke. “Certainly not this hypocrite. Neither did Charlie. He took the money and ran.

“Once I knew Locke’s secret, I had power over him. It wasn’t long before I moved up to the chief of staff position myself. Locke came to trust me more and more, didn’t you, Father?

“Eight months later, another young man came to me complaining about Locke’s behavior. Lucas. Big blond strapping boy. Even though I’m not into guys, I had to admit you had good taste on that one, sir.

“Lucas asked if he could meet me after work. At a local bar, he poured out his heart to me. I did my best to contain the situation. I offered him the same ten thousand dol ars Charlie had taken, and, when that didn’t work, doubled it. Unfortunately, dear Lucas wasn’t about to be bought off.

“Lucas, bless his heart, was a true believer.

Although he’d come to hate Locke—sorry, sir—he liked and trusted me. He told me the only reason he’d come to me was to give me fair notice before going to the press.

“I have to say, I was impressed by his integrity.

Even his thoughtfulness touched me—imagine, thinking of my welfare at such a stressful time for him.

“I walked him out to his car and commended him on his character. Then I broke his neck.” Locke doubled over and threw up into a garbage can beside his desk.

“See?” Jason said to me. “Weak. Without me pushing him, protecting him, he’d stil be preaching to fat housewives on cable TV.”

Locke looked up, a smear of vomit staining his shirt. “You told me Lucas went back to school,” he cried.

“Because I knew you couldn’t deal with the truth, old man. You’d never accept what needed to be done.”

Jason turned back to me. “Soon enough, I realized I had a real problem on my hands. Locke wasn’t going to give up dick, and one day I was the one who was going to get fucked. Metaphorical y, of course.

So, I started hiring male prostitutes.” Locke started to get up from his chair again.

“What?”