Edward Unconditionally Common Powers 3 (5 page)

“Is that for a new tire?” Edward asked.

“Yep. And the tow. Couldn't fix the old tire. You can't fix two holes in the sidewalls. How'd you manage to do that?”

Edward just shrugged. He definitely wasn't telling this jerk.

Just then another man, older and covered in grease stains, came through the bay door. “This the guy?” He had JIMMY embroidered over his pocket. With the grease on his clothes and his hands, Edward figured him for the mechanic. As the man stared at him, Edward's stomach started a slow slide down to the bottom, where fear waited.

“Yep. That's him.” The younger man stepped back, not bothering to hide his sneer.

“Un-fucking-be-liev-able. Well, aren't you pretty?” He gave a low whistle as he shook his head. “I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it.”

Edward glared at Phil. “Is my car ready or not?” The office felt too small, and the urge to bolt washed over him, but he locked his knees and stood firm.

“It's ready. What's your hurry?” Jimmy asked.

Edward hadn't been in a hurry; he just wanted to avoid any more trouble. He'd certainly met his quota for today. Okay, for the next year. Besides, the next time he saw the police chief, he didn't want to be wearing a set of shiny new handcuffs. Or sporting a lovely black plastic body bag.

He placed his credit card on the counter and pushed it at the young man, but the older man snatched it up. “Edward P. Beauregard
I-I-I
. What's that mean?”

“May I speak with the manager?” Edward kept his lips tight, he'd dealt with people like this ever since he'd come out.

The guy from the front desk stepped up. “Let me have that, Jimmy.” He took the card from the man, wiped it clean, and ran it through the machine. “Better get back to work.”

Jimmy returned to the garage but stopped in the doorway and turned back. “I swear. Ever since those two faggots took up residence here, the place is swarming with them. Spring Lake is going to be the next San Fran-fucking-cisco, if you ask me.”

How did three gay men make a swarm? Was that like a herd of elephants or a school of fish? Shouldn't it be something like a quorum of queers or a gaggle of gays?

The young man snickered and held out the receipt and the credit card. Edward signed them, handed him the yellow copy, and held out his hand, palm up. “My keys?”

“In the car. Jimmy'll bring it out for you.”

Edward nodded and left the office. Jimmy gunned the motor and backed out of the closest bay, cut the wheel hard, and nearly hit Edward as he came to a brake-squealing stop.

Curbing his anger, Edward set his face to neutral and walked around to the driver's side, doing his best “manly” walk. Hey, he could do butch if he had to.

Jimmy got out and held the door open, as if being polite, but Edward knew better. People like these two men wore thin veils of civility over the senseless hatred that boiled underneath, and when that hatred erupted, someone usually got hurt. Or killed.

Edward got in, and Jimmy shut the door. Still holding on to the door, Jimmy leaned over, his cigarette-laced breath puffed against the side of Edward's face as he growled, “I hope you don't plan on hanging around here for long, Mr.
I-I-I
. This is a God-fearing town, and we don't need any more of you faggots settling here, for damn sure.”

Edward knew arguing or even trying to reason with people like Jimmy and Phil was a waste of time and energy. Despite the fear and anger that warred inside him, he remained silent, which seemed to piss off the asshole even more.

“Just keep your hands to yourself, faggot. We catch you with any of our boys, we'll hang you by your dick from the nearest tree.”

Looking straight ahead, Edward put the car into gear and hit the gas. The mechanic jumped back, cursed at him, and gave him the finger. Heart pounding, Edward pulled out of the drive and into the street without a clue as to where he was going. All he could think about was to get as far away from the garage as possible.

Once free, Edward slowed down, and the tension in his shoulders eased. He could see the billboard...
Spring Lake: The next San Francisco
. He laughed. Not without the hills, the marina, and the Castro District.

How paranoid could some God-fearing people be? Did they really think he was going to start trolling outside the junior high school, enticing young boys into wickedness, sin, and manis and pedis with candy and video games?

Hell and damnation. He was a homosexual, not a pedophile. They were
not
synonymous. The thought of touching a child was as abhorrent to him as it would be to anyone else.

He drove a few more blocks, spotted a coffee shop, and pulled into their drive-through. After he ordered a latte, he got out the map and studied it as he waited. He was on the main street, and from there, he traced the route to his grandmother's house.

He paid, got his drink, and pulled out.

“Over the river and through the snow, to grandmother's house we go,” he sang, off-key, then sighed and looked at the empty seat beside him.

It wasn't the same without Winston.

After seeing to his wounds, Jack rolled back to his desk. His foot bumped the dog. He pushed back and looked down. The animal was dead asleep, the tip of his long tongue stuck out of his mouth between his front teeth as if giving Jack a permanent raspberry.

This was ridiculous. How on earth did he get stuck babysitting a dog?

Right. He'd promised Edward. No. He would not refer to Edward as Edward. Mr. Beauregard or Beauregard, but
not
Edward.

His stomach rumbled. His head pounded and his ankle ached. Jack popped two more painkillers and dry-swallowed them.

Kristen knocked, opened the door, and stuck her head in. “Chief?”

“Yes?”

“You've got the meeting with the mayor in thirty minutes, remember?”

Jack sighed and stood up. “I don't suppose you'd go in my place?”

She cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Right. Best be going. Maybe I can grab a burger on the way there.” He grabbed his hat and came around the desk to take the file Kristen held out to him.

Behind him, he heard the patter of nails on linoleum. Winston, dragging his leash, trotted up to him and sat.

“Oh no. I've got a meeting. You have to stay here.” Jack shook his head.

Woof.

“I don't care, you're not coming.”

“Chief? When you talk to him, does he answer you?” Kristen's eyes were all scrunched up as she fought to keep her lips straight.

“No, of course he doesn't talk.” Now Edward— Beauregard— had him doing it. Kristen stepped out of the office. Jack followed and closed the door before the dog could get out.

Woof. Woof. Woof.

Kristen raised her eyebrows and looked at the door, then at Jack. “Oh no, is right. I'm not sitting here all afternoon listening to that dog bark. And I'm not cleaning up any doggy messes.”

“But I can't take him with me to see the mayor.”

Woof. Woof. Woof. Woof.

“Why not? You said you'd watch him, didn't you?” Kristen had her hands on her hips.

“Yes, but... ”

Woof. Woof. Woof. Woof. Woof.

“Take him, or I'm taking the day off. With pay.” She raised her voice to be heard over the barking as she went for her purse behind her desk.

“No, wait!” He held up his hands in submission. “I'll take him.” Jack went to the door, opened it, and out trotted Winston. Jack bent down, snatched up his leash, and frowned at the animal. “Okay, Winston. Best behavior, right?”

Woof.

Jack hoped that meant “yes” in dog talk, not “just wait until I bite you again.” He pulled on the leash and headed down the hall to the parking lot. Winston dragged him straight to his car.

Hell, maybe the dog was smarter than he looked, because he sure was one ugly dog. His nose was smashed in, his jowls hung, and he snorted when he breathed. A small patch of light brown covered one eye, but other than that, the dog was white. And that tail. A dog should have a proper tail.

Jack opened the back door, but the dog just sat there. “You got in before. In, Winston.” Jack snapped his fingers, jerked on the leash, but the dog wouldn't budge. He could pick the animal up, but that was getting closer than he was prepared to be. Once bitten, twice shy.

Winston stood and pulled him around the car. Christ, the dog was strong. They reached the passenger side, and the dog sat at the front door.

“Oh, no. You are
not
sitting in the front seat with me.” Jack folded his arms across his chest, determined to make a stand, but a glance at his watch told him he was just wasting precious time.

With a growl of his own, Jack opened the door. Winston jumped in and settled into the seat. Jack shut the door, went around the car, and got in. He pulled out of the lot, and headed toward city hall. There was a burger fast-food place on the way there and fifteen minutes left to get it, eat it, and be in the mayor's office.

He stopped at the order board. “One burger, all the way, and a coffee, black.”

Woof.

Jack looked at Winston. “Ed— ” Shit. He gave up. “Edward said no table scraps. You're on a diet.”

Woof.

“Add a burger, plain.” Jack rubbed his temple. This took the cake. Ordering fast food for a dog.

“Will that be all?”

“That's it.”

“Five oh three. Pull to the first window to pay.”

Jack pulled up, paid the young lady, got his receipt, and pulled up to the second window for the food. Winston leaned across Jack's body, sniffing the air. Then he put his paws on Jack's leg and strained toward the window. Christ, even though the dog was small, he weighed a ton.

“Get off me, Winston,” Jack growled and pushed him back with his elbow.

The manager of the restaurant grinned at him. “Cute dog, Chief. Is he new on the force?”

“No,” Jack replied. He took the bag and the coffee, nodded, and pulled away. He sat the coffee in the holder. “Now, sit there and be good.” He took a burger out of the bag, opened the paper, and put it on the seat next to the dog. The animal lay down and began eating.

Jack opened his sandwich and ate it in about four bites, washing the last bite down with a sip of coffee. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until he'd smelled the food. They pulled up to city hall and he parked, then watched Winston lick the paper wrapper spotless, slobbering all over the seat.

Jack had two minutes left.

Edward pulled up outside a small Craftsman cottage and parked. It was white, with a lovely garden that bordered the porch on either side. He checked the address with the one stenciled on the top step of the porch and got out.

He stomach danced, and he tried to shake it off, but it'd been a long time since he'd seen his grandmother. He should have changed his shirt, but it was too late now. Would she recognize him? Would he recognize her?

He walked down the brick path to the wooden steps and up to the front door. Pushing the bell, he gave his bangs a final brush with his fingers, then stepped back.

A few moments later, a vaguely familiar woman with short gray hair opened the door. “Edward! I'd recognize you anywhere!” She gave him a quick hug.

Her warm smile helped to settle his stomach, and he nodded. “Meemaw?” He slipped into the name he'd called her as a child.

“It's been a long time. Come in.” She stepped back and pulled his arm.

Edward stepped into the living room, and the aroma of just-baked cookies filled his nose. “Oatmeal raisin?”

“That used to be your favorite, if I remember.” She led him to the couch. On the coffee table was a plate filled with cookies.

“They still are,” he replied as he reached for one and took a bite, unable to stop himself. It was a little piece of heaven. “Mmm. Is that just a hint of ginger?”

“Why, yes, it is. Most people don't recognize it.” She sat down and patted the cushion next to her.

“I have a sensitive palate,” he mumbled around a mouthful of cookie as he sat. “These are wonderful. Just like I remember them.” It was funny, but until he'd taken a bite, he'd completely forgotten that she'd made those cookies for him whenever he'd visited her with his parents.

“Glad you still like them. Now, Edward. What brings you to Spring Lake?” She sat back and watched him with sharp brown eyes.

Unsure whether he should spill the beans about his mission, he shrugged and went with his second reason for visiting. “I needed to get away, Meemaw. Things in Atlanta... well, I needed a change.”

“Edward. Are you in trouble with the law in Atlanta too?” Her eyes smiled at him, and he felt that she'd love him even if he had been a wanted man. For Edward, that was a rare thing.

“No. Nothing like that.” He sighed. “It's more along the line of an affair gone bad.”

“Ohh.” She nodded. “Had your heart broken?” She reached out and put a comforting hand on his leg.

“Worse. I was dumped in the middle of the biggest social event of the year. Right in front of
everyone
,” he whispered. The mortification of it still hung on him like cheap knock-off cologne.

She nodded again. “That must have been awful.”

“You have
no
idea.” He rolled his eyes. “I just couldn't stand the phone calls from so-called friends pretending to be sympathetic but just wanting to hear all the sordid details.”

“The ‘I told you so's'?” she added.

“Yes. But no one ever told me.” He shook his head and took another cookie.

“You wouldn't have listened, would you?”

He stared at her, cookie in his mouth; then he took a bite, chewed, and swallowed. “No, I don't think I would have.”

“You were in love.”

“At least I thought I was. I thought he— ” Edward froze and looked up at his grandmother. Hell and damnation, he'd just outed himself to her.

“You thought he loved you, right?” She smiled at him, her eyes holding love and acceptance.

“Yes.” He hung his head, so ashamed that he'd been played for a fool. Again. “I don't seem to pick the right men,” he confessed.