The Way You Say My Name

Jamie clutched both envelopes to his chest. He'd been holding them like that the whole time--all the way from the bank to his house--but he couldn't seem to make himself let go. He was afraid to open them. For now, those letters were a silent link to Ben. If he opened either missive and found proof that the money was dirty--as Dillon seemed sure it was--Jamie knew that link would be shattered.

Dillon pulled into Jamie's drive. "We're here."

Jamie nodded. "Thanks, Dillon."

Dillon hesitated, then finally said, "What are you gonna do about the money?"

"I'm not sure. That's why I put it back in the box. Until I decide how I'm gonna handle this thing, it's safer there."

"I still say you need to talk to Brandon about it."

Jamie sighed. He'd known Dillon was right the first time he suggested talking to the sheriff, back at the bank. But Jamie's reasons for waiting still stood.

"I can't do that, Dillon. Not until I find out where that money came from."

"Jamie--"

"Everyone already thinks Ben was scum. Everyone except for me and Nora, that is. I don't want to drag Ben's name through the mud any more than it already has been. Doing that would only hurt Nora all over again. If I find out that the money was part of something illegal, I'll talk to Bran, Dillon. I promise."

Dillon put his hand on the back of Jamie's neck, stroking the short hairs there with the edge of his thumb. "I know you will, but I worry about you. Who knows where that money came from? You have no idea what sorta shit Lewis was into."

"I'll be careful."

"I know you'll try, but you aren't like Ben was, Jamie. You don't have any idea what the guy was capable of. You always see the good in people, the bright side."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

Dillon used the hand on Jamie's neck to pull him forward until their foreheads were touching. "No way. I thank God that you're so trusting and forgiving. You never would have given me another chance, otherwise." Without changing positions, Dillon glanced down at his watch. "Damn. I've got to get to work." He gave Jamie a quick peck on the lips. "Call me if you need me. And don't do anything about that money without telling somebody first, promise?"

Jamie kissed him back and said, "Promise," as he reached for the door handle. He watched Dillon back his Lumina down the driveway, waved, and let himself into the house. He was thankful to find Aunt Sadie gone. He needed privacy.

Jamie went to his room and locked the door. Bouncing onto the bed, he opened the D.M.V. envelope first. The title to the car. Nothing unusual about that. Next he opened the manila envelope. Inside were two smaller envelopes, one thin, the other overstuffed. The thin one was labeled "J: Open First." The other was labeled, "To Be Revealed Later." Jamie sighed. Ben had been nothing if not dramatic.

Jamie tore into the first envelope. The shock of seeing Ben's handwriting hit him full force, but he made himself read it, anyway. "Dear J, Hey, too bad your name isn't John. This would be a real Dear John letter. I always wanted to write one of those things. Anyway, if you're reading this, that means you've opened the box and seen the money. Now, I know what you're thinking, and the answer is no, I didn't knock over a liquor store or rob a bank. I earned that money, and I want you to have it. And before you ask, no, I didn't earn it doing odd jobs for Nora. I can't tell you where it came from, J. That's a part of my life I don't want you to be touched by. Knowing you, you'll be afraid to take it, but please, do it anyway. I probably shouldn't say what I'm about to, because this is a major guilt trip to lay on you. Still, you need to know how I feel, and I need to say it. Forgive me in advance." The paragraph ended and Jamie took a deep breath before continuing to read.

"I'd always intended that money to be for us, a nest egg for the day you finally realized that Carver was a complete ass, and I was the guy for you. Crazy, I know, but from the first day I saw you, I loved you. God, I wanted you, J. You were hurt--battered, even--and all I could think about was holding you, making it better. I wanted to kill Carver for doing that to you. Hell, I even thought about it a time or two. But I knew it would hurt you too bad, so I didn't. That was a first for me, too, thinking of the consequences instead of just going with my gut instinct. That's what you did for me, J. You made me a better person, made we want for the first time in my life to please someone else, to put someone else before myself. Now, unless I miss my guess, Carver's starting to come around. I've seen the way he looks at you, and I know you're gonna forgive him if he asks you to. This money is my gift to you, Jamie. Use it to start a life with the guy. A life that for the two of us was never meant to be."

Jamie put down the letter, tears rolling down his face. He'd known somewhere inside that Ben had been in love with him, even though Ben had denied it that night at the Sheriff's office. To see it stated so baldly was still a shock, though. Several aching minutes passed before Jamie was able to pick the letter back up again.

"After heaping all that on you, I know I have no right to ask this next part, but when has that ever stopped me? The second envelope goes to the guy I was seeing. I swore I'd never tell anyone who he was, and I have to keep my word on this one. I know, I know. I'm dead, and honesty was never one of my sticking points in life, so why the burst of conscience now? The trouble is, J, I did something to the guy, took something from him I had no right to take. I'm not proud of it, but I used him, and I owe him for that. I can't tell you his name. That's one promise I will take to the grave. Hell, I guess I already did. For that reason, I ask that you not open the other envelope. I hate involving you in any of this, but you're the only one I can really trust. I might not be able to tell you flat out who the guy is, but, knowing you, you'll figure it out. When you do, please, give him the letter. And tell him I said I was sorry. No, scratch that. When he sees what's inside, he won't believe you, anyway. Okay, enough of this. I got a date with a cloud in my future, so I'm gonna run. I love you, J. Be happy--Ben."

Jamie refolded the letter and stared down at the fat, still sealed envelope with disbelief. What the hell was he supposed to do now? #

Dillon, Megan, and Jamie sat hunched in a corner booth at Hailey's the next day, trying to decide exactly that. Dillon reacted just as Jamie thought he would when he'd called Dillon last night and read the letter to him. "Open the damn thing."

Now here Dillon was, sitting in Hailey's and using a chicken finger as a pointer while he repeated himself. "I still say, open the envelope, find out who the guy is, and be done with it."

Megan, who was sitting across from Dillon and Jamie, shook flying chicken finger crumbs off her blouse. "If you point that thing at me one more time, I'm gonna stick it in a place chicken was never meant to go. Jamie's already explained why he can't open it, Dillon. It's a matter of ethics."

"Ethics? You wanna talk ethics? What about Lewis's ethics? God knows what he got Jamie mixed up in by leaving him that money. Now he wants to send him on a scavenger hunt? Find the missing boyfriend and you win a prize? Ethics, my ass."

A shadow fell across the table. "From what I hear, your ass has seen a shit-load of action lately, Carver."

Jamie felt Dillon tense beside him and turned to see Roy Carmichael standing over them, a couple of his thug boys at his side. They didn't call him Rooster for nothing. His round face was always beet red, and his dark brown hair stuck straight up on top of his head like a rooster's comb. Jamie heard a rumor that Rooster's eyes were brown, too, but they were small and beady enough to look black. He was medium height, but thick and well muscled from years of training with the football team. Jamie knew that there were reams of athletes out there with near genius I.Q.'s, guys totally undeserving of the dumb jock label. Rooster was not one of those guys. In fact, calling him dumb was giving him way too much credit.

Dillon had the unique ability to appear calm when he was seething inside. Only Jamie could see the tick in Dillon's jaw and feel the tightening of his body as they sat pressed together in the confining booth. Dillon drawled out, "I didn't realize you'd taken an interest in my ass, Rooster. Like what you see?"

Rooster's face got even redder, though Jamie would have sworn that wasn't possible. "I'll tell you what I don't like, Carver. I don't like knowing that one of our guys has switched teams. The way I see it, that's one more fag out there I have to worry about."

Dillon shifted in his seat. "What you worried about, Rooster? You afraid one of us queers is gonna make a play for you? Trust me, buddy, you ain't got that to worry about."

Rooster flexed his fists. "You think you got all the answers, don't you, Carver? Well, here's one for you: why don't you tell me what makes a normal guy like you go from banging a choice piece like Megan, here, to shoving it up Walker's nasty ass."

Dillon started to stand, but Megan and Jamie reached for him at the same time. Megan put her hand on Dillon's arm and said, "Don't do it, Dillon. He's not worth it, and Brandon isn't gonna hesitate to lock you up if you and Rooster start smashing this place."

Jamie slid his arm around Dillon's waist and whispered, "She's right. I couldn't stand it if you got arrested. Besides, I can't cook, so I couldn't even do a decent job of trying to break you out of jail. What am I gonna do, ask Hailey to bake you a cake with a file in it?"

Jamie felt Dillon relax a little just before he turned back to Rooster. "Rooster, if you think this is some kind of battle of wits we got going on here, I hate to burst your bubble, but you came to this fight unarmed. Now that we've established that, I believe you asked me a question."

"You're damned right I did, you smart mouthed little ass-fucker. I want to know when you gave up pussy and started chasing cock. What turned you queer?"

"Damn, Rooster, you mean you don't know what makes a man gay?" Dillon paused, and Jamie could tell he was building up to something. Finally, Dillon said, "Okay, I'll tell you, but this has to stay between us. I was bitten."

Rooster scratched his head. "Bitten? What the hell are you talking about, Carver?"

"Just what I said. You asked me what turned me queer, and now I'm telling you. I was walking home alone late one night, when out of nowhere, this rabid homosexual jumped me and bit me right on the ass. I tried to fight him off, but you know those homos have superhuman strength. Anyway, he bit me on my left cheek, then took off. The whole thing shook me up, but I thought I was gonna be okay. It took me a few weeks to notice the changes. At first the signs were subtle: the sudden urge to redecorate my room, the uncontrollable desire to do Megan's hair. Then, as the phases of the moon progressed, I noticed other things: the need to wear lace panties, the insane hope of one day owning my own flower shop. Before I knew it, I was jacking off six times a day to pictures of Brad Pitt and Russell Crowe. Of course, I won't be a full fledged gay boy until I bite someone else and pass on the 'dark gift.'" Dillon stood up, causing Jamie's arm to fall away. "Hey, Rooster, you wanna be my first convert? If I turn just four people, I win like a toaster oven or something."

The entire café burst into laughter, including Hailey, who was standing a few feet away, watching the whole show. Jamie and Megan were both rolling, shaking so hard the booth actually moved a couple of inches. Even Rooster's buddies were cracking up. The only one not amused was Rooster. "You are so full of shit, Carver."

Dillon looked hurt. "I am not. Here, I'll prove it to you." Dillon reached for his belt and began to undo the buckle. "Let me show you my scar. That guy took a plug out of my ass."

Rooster backed up. "I'm out of here." He turned to his cronies. "Come on, guys, let's jet." He threw on last look at Dillon and Jamie. "This ain't over, Carver. You and your little boyfriend are gonna pay. With Lewis dead, the count is one fag down. I say we make it three for three."

Rooster left, and Dillon fell back into his seat. Megan wiped her eyes. "Sweet Jesus. That was the funniest thing I think I've ever seen."

Jamie leaned against Dillon's shoulder, doing his best to stop laughing. "I had no idea I'd hooked myself to a comedy genius."

Dillon waggled his eyebrows. "There are a lot of things you don't know about me, but I'll be glad to show you all of them later on."

Hailey walked up to the table, her face flushed, fanning herself with a menu. "I've been thinking of hiring live entertainment for the Friday and Saturday night crowds. Do you do stand up?"

Dillon blushed. "Sorry about that, Hailey. I didn't mean to cause a scene."

"Don't you dare apologize. I thought you handled yourself with untold restraint. I kept expecting you to knock him on his rear. I like the way you handled it much better. You put him in his place without ever lifting a finger."

"Thanks. Um . . . if you have our check ready, I think we'll go." Dillon looked to Jamie and Megan, who nodded in agreement. "I believe I've had enough excitement for one day."

Hailey shook her head. "Lunch is on the house, today, kiddo. For all of you."

"You don't have to do that."

"Of course I do. That's the best laugh I've had in weeks. I'm gonna be telling that story for years to come."

Jamie and Megan both thanked her. Dillon said, "Thanks, Hailey. And thanks for not getting mad."

Hailey patted his arm and walked back towards the kitchen. As the crowd in the café resumed eating, Dillon said, "If you're ready, we'll head back to school."

As if they shared a brain, Jamie and Megan both said at exactly the same time, "As long as you promise not to bite us."

#

The debate about what to do with the second letter continued through the rest of the week. Jamie did his best to recall something--anything--that Ben might have said to give away the identity of his mystery boy. Something lurked on the fringes of his mind, something Ben said the night of the dance, but Jamie just could not wrap his brain around it. The stress of avoiding his newfound enemies--including Principal Morgan--and his nervous excitement over tonight's date with Dillon, had effectively turned everything in Jamie's skull to mush. He fastened the right cuff of his dark green button-up shirt and grabbed his jacket. He headed down the stairs to wait for Dillon and was intercepted at the living room door by Aunt Sadie. "Well, aren't you looking mighty spiffy this fine evening? You look a lot like your grandfather, did I ever tell you that?"

Jamie leaned over to kiss her cheek. "Yes ma'am, you did, but I never get tired of hearing it."

"You cheeky little rascal." She motioned him towards the living room sofa. "You may have heard me say you looked like your grandfather, but there's something I bet you don't know. Sit down while we wait for your young man, and I'll tell you."

Jamie followed her and took a seat next to her on the sofa. Some of Jamie's best memories were of this room. No major events had happened here. No lightening flashes to sear photos in Jamie's mind. Instead, it was a gentle remembrance, the long evenings sitting at Sadie's feet, listening to her tell him stories while she knitted. The childhood milestones recited after a hard day at school while Sadie oohed and ahhed in all the right places.

Sadie said, "Jamie, what do you know about your Grandpa Franklin?"

"Just that he was the husband of your only sister, and that he died when my mom was just a little girl."

Sadie nodded. "That's true. I think your mother was six or seven at the time. Franklin was killed in an auto accident. It was quite a shock. I'm not sure your grandmother ever got over it. Neither did I, but for a very different reason." Sadie took a deep breath. "Jamie, I was in love with your grandfather. He's the reason I never married."

Dammit. Did everybody he knew have a barrel of secrets stored up somewhere? Jamie said, "I had no idea."

"Of course not. No one did. Oh, I think my sister suspected. Jennie was nothing if not perceptive. But she knew I would never tell Franklin how I felt. He was totally enamored of her, and she knew it, so she wasn't threatened by me. Not in the least."

Sadie looked so sad, Jamie reached for her hand. "What happened?"

"I met Franklin at a community-sponsored dance the summer I turned sixteen. It was one of those old fashioned, heavily chaperoned affairs. I saw him standing across the room, with his dark blond hair and those hypnotic eyes of his, and just melted. A true case of love at first sight. But I was shy, Jamie, too shy to ever say anything. Back in those days, Reed had a dance every Friday night, and for months I watched Franklin, loving him more each time I saw him. After an eternity of worshiping him from afar, I decided to do something about it. I'd just worked up enough gumption to try talking to him, when I saw my sister sidle up and start a conversation. Jennie was the pretty one, the flirt. She was two years older than me, and worlds more sophisticated." Sadie shook her head with rueful amusement. "I was the smart one, sensible Sadie, as my father used to call me. Anyway, it was obvious that Franklin thought the sun rose and set on Jennie. No one was surprised when they started courting, nor when they married just six scant weeks later. Mother and Father were so proud, and so was I. I was proud for Jennie, but miserable for myself. I'd missed my chance, and I knew it." Sadie paused. "Do you know why I'm telling you this?"

"No ma'am, not really."

Sadie patted his hand. "I'm telling you this, my dear boy, because I want you to know how happy I am that you and Dillon are having your chance, that you didn't leave it too late. I also want you to know that I support you both, no matter what."

"Thanks, Aunt Sadie." Jamie stood up just as he heard Dillon's car in the driveway. Bending down to hug her goodbye, he said, "And thanks for telling me about Grandpa. It was nice to hear a little bit about him, but, for what it's worth, I've never felt like I missed out. You're all the family I've ever needed."

Sadie pulled back with tears in her eyes. "Thank you for that, Jamie. Thank you so, so much for that."

#

Dillon held Jamie's hand as the two of them approached the theater. Dinner had been amazing, the soft candlelight, the wealth of privacy. The food was nice too, he supposed, but Dillon had been too into Jamie to really taste it. God, Jamie looked good, with his black jeans and dark green button-up shirt, just a hint of his black tank showing underneath. And he smelled like Heaven--not cologne, but pure Jamie, a rich, heady smell that left Dillon hard and breathless.

Dillon insisted on paying for the meal, even though Heath had offered him money back at the apartment, and Jamie had tried his best to slip Dillon some cash at the restaurant. Dillon had compromised, finally, by telling Jamie he could pay for the popcorn and cokes at the movies and letting Heath take care of the cost of the movie tickets. Dillon wasn't used to letting other people help him, but he was learning.

The Empress Theater was amazing, all gold and glitz. Walking inside was like a trip back in time to the nineteen-thirties, from the lush red velvet benches in the entryway to the gold leaf frames surrounding the vintage posters on the wall. Faces like Clark Gable and Humphrey Bogart melded with visages of Rosalind Russell and Vivian Leigh. The rich smell of popcorn and roasted peanuts wafted from the old-fashioned hot boxes perched on the brightly lit candy counter. Business must be booming, too, if the throng of people waiting in line for tickets and snacks was any indication. Dillon and Jamie barely had time to take it all in before they were pounced on by a grinning Jesse Wade. He grabbed Dillon in a bear hug and swung him around the theater. "Heya, squirt. It's been a while."