Driven, page 7
“Hey, Ollie,” he said, not turning away from the women. It seemed like he knew them… of course he must know them! That had to have been why they started calling him Ollie. Oliver wondered how long the relationship had been going on. Did they discuss luring him to their house in the first place? Maybe they had said, “Oh, we’re looking for a nice young boy to come do our bidding.” Richards would have responded with “Have I got a boy for you!”
Oliver’s blood started to boil as he thought about them talking about him over tea and finger sandwiches. The smile slid from his face, and his brows drew together as his hands curled into fists.
“Did you do this?” he demanded of Richards.
The officer turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised. “Did I do what?”
“Don’t play dumb, Richards. You know what I’m talking about. Did you set this all up? Tell these women that I needed someone to take care of me? Send them to my corner to fetch me? I was doing perfectly fine without them.”
Richards turned his whole body to face Oliver. “I don’t know that I would call what you were doing perfectly fine. I don’t know that I’d even call it living. It was surviving, and barely at that.”
Oliver saw red. “I didn’t ask for your help!”
The older man took a few steps forward, putting him right in front of the angry teen. “I know you didn’t ask, but it was written all over your face.” He put a strong hand on Oliver’s shoulder. “You’re a good kid, Ollie. A good kid that has had bad things happen to him. You’re young and still able to turn things back around. I wanted to help give you a chance at that, even if you didn’t ask me to.”
“I’m not your pawn to move around at will,” Oliver said, some of the anger leaving his stance.
“You’re right, but I’m not going to apologize because I know if I had asked you first, you would have flat-out refused. Sometimes we have to use some underhanded tactics, but it was meant for the greater good.”
Oliver let those words soak in for a few moments before he started shaking his head. He shrugged off Officer Richards’s hand. “How am I supposed to trust you now?” He looked over at the two women standing by the door, concern mirrored on their faces. “How am I supposed to trust any of you?”
He stepped around Officer Richards and headed out the door.
Chapter Fifteen
HE NEEDED air. He needed space. He needed to be anywhere but that gingerbread house. His feet took him toward familiar territory; he didn’t care much who was there or what was going on. His head was teeming with thoughts of betrayal and anger.
The streetlights were on and shadows danced at the edges of his scope of vision. The warm air had people out walking, headed for dinner, coming from a movie, doing late-night window-shopping. It also brought out the ladies, and men, of the night. Scantily clad, they beckoned from their corners to anyone who slowed down or turned a head their way.
Oliver heard his name being called, but continued to soldier down the sidewalk. He imaged it to be Marcus or one of the prostitutes he managed. That was the last thing he needed. The voice was relentless and sounded closer. Soon Oliver heard the telltale sound of pounding on the pavement. Someone was running toward him. He crouched a bit, ready to sprint, when his name was called again. Something about the voice made him turn, which put him face-to-face with a somewhat out of breath Simon.
“Hey, man, were you ignoring me? I’ve been calling you for blocks.” Simon brushed a damp strand of hair off his sweaty brow.
“Uh, no… I just didn’t hear you,” Oliver said, avoiding Simon’s watchful eyes.
“Oh… okay. Are you busy? Did you want to hang out?”
Oliver’s head came up to meet Simon’s hopeful gaze. “Hang out?” It seemed like a foreign concept.
“Yeah.” Simon smiled. “My friends and I are just going to the hall to shoot some pool. You don’t have to play if you don’t want, but you can hang out and chill with us.”
Oliver looked over Simon’s shoulder and saw three other guys standing a ways back, talking with each other. He wondered if they were gay too. Not that it would matter. If they were cool with Simon, they’d probably be cool with him… except maybe for the whole ex-con bit.
“So?” Simon prompted, nudging Oliver with an elbow.
Oliver gave in. “Sure… okay. Why not?” It would be better than roaming the streets when Marcus and his crew would be out and about.
“Cool. Come meet the guys.” Simon grabbed his arm and dragged him back down the block toward his waiting friends.
The “guys” were pretty friendly. He found out, through conversation, that they all had girlfriends. Maybe Simon wasn’t out to his friends. Maybe Oliver had misjudged the earlier conversation. He sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one to spill the beans.
Since they already had an even number of players, and Oliver had no money, he just watched them play, nursing a glass of ice water. He was concerned he was going to be out of the loop, not really being up on current pop culture or sports, but the guys discussed a whole range of topics from politics to the environment to modern art. Oliver was impressed and able to join in on occasion. By the time they decided to wrap up for the night, he got handshakes and requests to come out with them again. It was a good feeling, to be accepted by people, even if they didn’t necessarily know his past transgressions.
As he and Simon were headed home, Oliver remembered why he was out in the first place. Should he go back and finish out his sentence, even though they had all duped him? They were just trying to help, after all. Should he ask to set down some ground rules? Did he have any right to even ask for such a thing? His head hurt with all the questions whirling around inside it.
“Did you have a good time?” Simon interrupted his inner monologue.
“Sure. Been a while since I just… hung out, I suppose.” Oliver stuck his hands in his pockets, slightly embarrassed by his admission.
“I figured… but just goes to show you can interact with folks without it seeming like you’re on trial for something.”
Oliver stopped walking. “Did you tell them anything about me?”
Simon walked past him and turned around, so he could look at Oliver while slowly walking backward. “They asked how I knew you. I told them you’re staying with the twins for a while as you’ve had some hard times.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. I figured anything more wasn’t any of their business, nor is it my place to fill them in, especially when I don’t really know the story myself.”
Oliver started walking again, slow as to not rush Simon’s backward gait. “Thanks,” he finally said.
Simon smiled. “No need to thank me. I just thought of how I’d want people to act if I were in your shoes.”
The side of Oliver’s mouth turned up. “You’d never find yourself in my shoes. You seem too much like a goody-goody.”
“Oh, I can be a bad boy when it’s necessary,” Simon replied with a leer.
Both of Oliver’s eyebrows came up. “Is that so?”
He nodded. “Maybe you’ll just have to find out for yourself.”
Simon took a step back, not realizing he was so close to the curb. He teetered back, arms flailing as he tried to regain his balance. Oliver hurried forward and grabbed one of those arms and yanked hard, pulling Simon to safety and into his arms. A large truck barreled by right behind them. Oliver’s heart beat like a trapped rabbit from the adrenaline of the situation.
Lifting his gaze, he met Simon’s wide-eyed stare. Neither boy moved, but their fronts were flush against each other. Oliver was sure Simon could feel the pounding of his heart. He hoped the other boy couldn’t feel the blood flowing elsewhere. He wondered if he should just lean in, close the small gap between them and taste Simon’s lips. Apparently reading his intentions, Simon licked his lips as if in preparation. Before he could lean it, Simon’s husky voice rang out.
“See what I mean? I can be devious to get my way.”
Chapter Sixteen
SIMON GRINNED, but Oliver’s arms dropped. Had he stepped off the curb on purpose? What if Oliver hadn’t grabbed him in time? What if that truck had happened by a minute earlier? Simon would have been roadkill.
He watched as the grin slid off Simon’s face. It was obvious the other boy realized he had gone too far.
“I slipped, really! Then I made another stupid joke. Sorry! Obviously I’ve got a god-awful sense of humor.”
Oliver was too tired to go into an angry tirade about how really horrid it was. “Sure you did.” He rolled his eyes for emphasis.
Simon grabbed Oliver’s forearms. “I swear it. I don’t have a death wish or suicidal tendencies or anything. I didn’t realize how close to the edge I was, and then when I ended up in your arms… well, it just seemed like a good idea to make a joke about it. I seriously need to reevaluate what a good idea is—”
“Okay, okay. I believe you,” Oliver said, shrugging out of the other boy’s grasp. “Let’s just get back.”
Simon hung his head for a moment before turning and walking toward their respective homes. They walked side by side in silence until they got to the corner before their block.
“Shit,” Simon muttered.
Oliver raised a brow. “Problem?”
Simon didn’t answer but sprinted ahead as if wild dogs were on his heels. Oliver took off after him, not knowing what prompted the burst of speed, but fearing the worst. When they got to Simon’s house, Oliver slowed his pace, seeing what had probably caused Simon to start running. He called the other boy’s name and told him to stop.
Simon came to a halt, his breath coming in harsh puffs. “Aren’t you concerned? The cops are here! Someone might have broken in or maybe Tude fell again.”
“That car isn’t here for them, it’s here for me. That’s my parole officer.”
“Really? Are you in trouble? Do you need a place to hide out? I can smuggle you into my basement.”
“So you could go to jail for harboring a convict? Thanks, but I’ll pass. You wouldn’t last a day in there before becoming someone’s bitch….”
Simon’s eyes grew wide. “Were you someone’s bitch?”
“Not… exactly, and that’s all I’m going to say on that topic.” Oliver heaved a heavy sigh. “I’m not in trouble… not really. I was out roaming because I found out my PO and the batty twins duped me to get me off the streets.”
Simon’s brow furrowed. “How so?”
“Those old broads aren’t as sweet as they look,” Oliver said as he opened the metal gate.
“Oh, you don’t have to tell me twice, but I know they generally mean well.” At Oliver’s insistence, Simon stepped through the gate first.
“I’ll explain later. Richards has to have been sitting here for a while. I’m surprised he hasn’t put out an APB on me.”
“Should I go? I don’t want to cause any problems.”
“Nahh, you can stay if you want. I don’t care.” Oliver hustled up the steps to the front door. He didn’t hesitate to go in this time around, Simon on his heels.
The three adults stood as if they were part of a synchronized swimming team. Oliver just shook his head.
“Don’t you have criminals to chase down or something?” he asked Richards.
“I’m off duty,” Richards said, polite enough not to mention that Oliver could have been the criminal he was chasing.
“Oh….”
“Yeah, oh,” Richards replied. “Done with your tantrum?”
A scowl appeared on Oliver’s face. “I’d hardly call my actions a tantrum. Did I throw things? Cry and kick my feet?”
“I suppose not, but I’ve seen my toddler better behaved.”
That surprised him, that the cop was a dad. It made Oliver see him in a whole different light. “You’ve got a kid?”
“I’ve got more than one, but that’s a story for another time.” Richards frowned at Oliver’s smirk. “What’s that look for, kid?”
“I’m just surprised someone slept with you and your ugly mug.”
Richards rolled his eyes. “She’s a stunner too. I’m not sure how I got so lucky.” Oliver chuckled. “We good here, or do we need to talk about what went down?”
Oliver sighed. “I guess I get it… and the treatment here has definitely been a huge step up from where I was… I just wish someone would have asked rather than all the deceit.”
“Would you have accepted?” Tude suddenly spoke up.
Oliver shrugged. “I honestly don’t know…. Did you fall on purpose?”
The old lady shook her head. “No, I’m just naturally clumsy. I was going to buy a painting and invite you to dinner.”
Smiling, Oliver shook his head. “Yeah, I’m not sure that tactic would have worked. Last time someone on the street offered me a meal it turned out to be a half-eaten sandwich where the mayo had gone bad. Not exactly appetizing, no matter how hungry you might be.”
The ladies gave twin frowns at his words. He wondered if Richards had told them how hard Oliver had really had it out there on the streets. He wondered if they knew why he was in prison in the first place.
“Well, if we’re done here, I should be going. The wife is going to wonder where I’m at. Thanks for the tea and cookies, as always, ladies.”
“Oh, anytime, John,” Vera said with a smile.
“Unless we’ve only got oatmeal raisin. I don’t share those,” Tude added.
John Richards laughed. “I didn’t forget, Miss Tude. Hands off the oatmeal raisins.”
“And don’t forget it, boy. You’re not too old for me to put over my knee!”
Simon looked at Oliver and both boys burst out laughing.
“Neither are you two!” Tude shut them up with a glare.
“Sorry, Miss Tude,” Simon mumbled, trying to keep the smile from his face.
“Was there’s something you needed, dear?” Vera asked him.
“What? Oh! No, I was just… I mean….”
“We met up while I was out, and then he was concerned when he saw the cop car,” Oliver explained sinking into a nearby chair. He was suddenly exhausted from the events of the day.
“Oh, that’s sweet of you to be worried, but as you can see, we’re fine,” Vera said patting his arm.
“And we’re out of cookies, so no need for you to stay,” Tude added while bending to pick up empty plates and teacups.
Richards stepped forward. “Let me help with that.”
Tude slapped his hand away. “I’m perfectly capable, young man. Go home to your family.”
“Okay, okay.” The officer put his hands up in defense and walked back a couple of steps before turning to look at Oliver. “You and I need to have a discussion soon.”
A knot started to form in Oliver’s stomach. Those were never good words as far as he was concerned. “About what?” He wasn’t sure he wanted an answer.
“About that guy asking for ‘directions’ the other day.”
The knot doubled and tripled as Oliver swallowed hard. “Don’t know anything about him,” he said hoping the fear he felt wasn’t audible in his words.
Richards gave him a look. “Yeah, well, I still have a couple questions, but it’s for another time. Night, ladies, thanks again. Later, Ollie.” He shut the door behind him, leaving the twins and the guys behind.
“Well… I guess I should be going too,” Simon eventually said, breaking the silence.
“Yeah…,” Oliver agreed, thinking only of how much he wanted to crash in his room and sleep for the next ten hours.
“Night, Ollie.”
“Night,” Oliver replied halfheartedly, his head in a different place. He vaguely realized the twins had exited the room, leaving the two boys alone.
“It was fun, let’s do it again sometime,” Simon said.
Oliver looked up to respond to Simon and found him to be extremely close. Before Oliver could pull back, Simon closed the gap and gave Oliver a quick kiss on the lips.
“Sometime soon,” Simon said, giving Oliver a wink before he stood and walked out the door.
Chapter Seventeen
OLIVER SPENT the next couple of days doing work around the house: fixing creaking boards, painting shutters, and weeding—his least favorite task. In all that time, he didn’t see Simon once. Not working on his car. Not running out for the mail. No peek of him even through the windows, although, if asked, Oliver would deny that he had done peeking of any sort.
Obviously he and Simon had differing ideas of “soon.” Shame, since Oliver could use something to keep his mind off things. The anniversary was looming, and he had sunk to horrible lows every year since it had happened. He hoped this year would be different, but he wouldn’t put money on it. Painting helped him work out some of the emotional turmoil, but even that didn’t do a good enough job.
When he finally spotted Simon a few afternoons later, he practically pranced up the sidewalk to greet him. If he had a tail, it would have been wagging.
“Hey! Where have you been?”
The Simon who looked up at him wasn’t the same Simon who had landed the surprise kiss on him a little over a week ago. This Simon was sporting bloodshot eyes with dark bags below them. His body language screamed defeat: back curved, head bent, arms limp. The full mouth Oliver had, admittedly, more than a few dreams about, was curved down. Not even a hint of a smile in sight.
“Hey,” Simon finally said. “Sorry… been busy.”
“So I gathered… but if you needed a break, we could just… ya know, hang or whatever. Nothing major.” Oliver hated the pathetic sound of his voice, but somehow he just knew that spending some time with Simon would help him get through the worst day of his year.
“Sorry, man, just not up to it right now. Maybe in a few days….” Simon trailed off as if he didn’t even have the energy to finish his thought.
