Author: Tiffany Reisz

Nora moved completely on top of Søren and pressed her entire body into his as he wrapped his arms around her. She loved Søren’s height. At six foot four he stood exactly one foot taller than her. She could lie on top of him, stomach to stomach, and her head could tuck right under his chin.

“Well, I lost count after the seventh orgasm. And you also did that thing I like with the thing.”

“No thanks necessary. I rather enjoyed it myself.”

Nora raised her head and looked Søren in the eyes.

“Just thank you…for being you,” she said. “The world is a better, more interesting place with you in it.”

He smiled as he dropped a kiss on top of her head.

“And the world is certainly a wilder, more beautiful place with you in it, little one.”

“Really?”

“Quite.”

“Say something else nice about me. I’m fishing for compliments, if you haven’t noticed.”

“I did notice,” he said as he rolled over quickly, pinning Nora onto her back. “Fishing for compliments is against the rules. Continue and I’ll have to punish you.”

“I don’t remember that rule, sir.”

“I’ve just made it up.”

Laughing, Nora raised her head and graced Søren’s lips with a kiss.

She pulled back and batted her eyelashes at him.

“Tell me more about my eyes.”

“Your eyes are…” he began before suddenly stopping and sliding out of bed.

“What? My eyes are what?”

Søren started to get dressed.

“I’ll tell you after my meeting.” He bent over and kissed her quick as he buttoned his shirt.

“Meeting?” Nora scrambled into a sitting position. “What meeting? I thought you said the search committee had decided on Father Peterson. No more meetings.”

Søren slipped his Roman collar into place.

“They did. Thank God. This meeting isn’t with any committee. I promised Suzanne one more long talk.”

Nora narrowed her eyes.

“This reporter bitch is getting on my last damn nerve. Why can’t she leave you alone?”

“She’s not the enemy. Especially now that she no longer thinks I am the enemy.”

“Well, if we’ve got her fooled that much,” Nora began. Søren shot her a vicious look that nearly set her giggling. “Then why’s she still hanging around?”

“She has a few final questions for me. After all I’ve put her through this summer, I feel she deserves some answers.”

Søren headed to the door. Nora had a sudden thought and bolted upright in bed.

“Søren? Wait a sec. Let me go talk to her.”

* * *

“Mick? You okay?” Griffin laid his hand on Michael’s knee and squeezed.

Michael shook his head.

“No.”

The hand on his knee moved to Michael’s face.

“Look at me,” Griffin said in almost a whisper. Michael reluctantly turned his head to meet Griffin’s eyes. “I’ve got this. I won’t let anything bad happen.”

Something in Griffin’s tone made Michael almost believe it.

“Okay.”

Griffin smiled.

“Good. Let’s get this over with. I want to fuck you before dinner.”

With a playful swat on Michael’s knee, Griffin exited the car and came around to Michael’s side. With extreme reluctance, Michael opened the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Griffin held out his hand. Michael stared at it. They’d never been out in public before. In bed they’d held hands…and every other body part. But here? On his street? In his house? In front of his parents?

“We’re in this together, Mick. I love you.”

Michael started at the words. They seemed to come echoing from deep inside a canyon. Or the canyon was inside him and the words filled it and him and finally muted the voice inside him that warned he’d never be loved for who and what he was.

Without further hesitation, Michael took Griffin’s hand as they walked up to the house. Michael opened the door without knocking and he and Griffin stepped inside.

He heard voices in the kitchen. Quiet, angry voices.

“They’re fighting,” Michael whispered. “They’re always fighting.”

“They’re divorced,” Griffin whispered back. “What do they have to fight about?”

Michael swallowed.

“Me.”

They stepped into the kitchen and both Michael’s mom and dad immediately stopped talking. He mother’s face was a mask of shock. His father’s face wore an expression of confusion that quickly turned to fury at the sight of Michael’s hand in Griffin’s.

“Michael…” his father began.

“I’m Griffin Fiske, your son’s boyfriend,” Griffin said, smiling hugely at Michael’s parents. “Nice to meet you both.”

“No. No way,” Michael’s father said. “No way in hell is this happening. Michael, what are you—”

He rushed forward and Michael braced himself. But Griffin stepped between them and raised his chin.

“I guess you didn’t hear me,” Griffin repeated. “I’m Griffin Fiske. I’m your son’s boyfriend. Nice to meet you.”

This time he said the words without smiling and with the subtle hint of a threat in this voice. Michael had always thought of his father as the big bad dad—taller than him, more muscular—but compared to Griffin, he seemed slight and short.

“Who the hell are you?” his father demanded.

Griffin smiled dangerously while Michael eased out from behind Griffin and tried to get closer to his mother, who was still standing in stunned silence.

“I feel like I’m repeating myself. Mick, am I repeating myself?” Griffin asked.

“Mom, Dad.” Michael tried speaking up. “Griffin and I—”

“Shut up, Michael,” his father ordered, “or I swear to God—”

What Michael’s father was about to swear the world would never know as Griffin raised a hand and snapped his fingers loudly in Michael’s father’s face.

The snap actually shut Michael’s father up momentarily.

“Don’t do that,” Griffin said in a tone of casual menace. “Don’t tell him to shut up. Bad things will happen to people who don’t treat Mick the way he deserves.”

“Don’t you dare tell me how to talk to my son. My fucked-up, sick son.”

Michael flinched at his father’s words. And next to him his mother also flinched.

“Ken, please,” Michael’s mother began. “Let’s stay calm and talk about this. We’ve always known Michael wasn’t—”

“Normal?” his father said. “Obviously not. And it’s your fault, Melissa. You let him grow his hair long. You kept him out of Catholic school. You coddled him. Turned him into a goddamn fa—”

Michael and his mother again flinched in unison as Griffin quickly and efficiently put Michael’s father into the wall. His shoulder hit the tile with a dull thud.

“Griffin, don’t,” Michael pleaded, not wanting the cops to come.

But Griffin didn’t pay any heed. He put his hand in the center of Michael’s father’s chest and held him against the wall, pinned like an insect in a shadowbox.

“I told you bad things happen when people don’t treat Mick nicely,” Griffin said, stepping up to Michael’s father and eyeing him menacingly. “I love your son. And I’ll break you if you ever even look at him sideways again. Your ‘not normal’ son is the most talented untrained artist I’ve ever seen. He’s intelligent, an amazing skater, has a great sense of humor and is the kindest, most humble person I’ve ever met. I’m so in love with him I can’t even think straight. Which is fine since obviously I’m not straight. And neither is he. Anyway, I’m rambling. I do that sometimes. Hard to shut me up. The point is…” Griffin said, and pointed hard at Michael’s father’s chest, hard enough the tip of his finger would certainly leave a small round bruise. “Your opinions on…everything really, are not welcome here. Michael’s fine. I’m taking care of him now. Shoo.”

With both hands, Griffin made a dismissive gesture as if Michael’s father were simply a fly or a feral cat hanging about.

“That is my son.” Michael’s father stabbed an angry finger in Michael’s direction.

“He’s my property.”

“Your what?”

Michael cringed outwardly even as his heart fluttered inside. Being claimed as Griffin’s property spoke to him on the deepest levels.

“My. Property. He belongs to me. Completely by his choice. And you are no longer relevant in this equation,” Griffin continued. “You make him feel bad. Ergo you are not allowed to ever be in his presence until such a time comes as you can control your insecurities enough to keep your mouth shut around Michael.”

“I’ve been paying to keep him in food and clothing with a roof over his head since the day he was born.”

“Money?” Griffin stood up straighter. “This is about money? Money I have. How much do you want for him?”

“Excuse me?” Michael’s father repeated.

“How much do you want for your son? I’ll write you a check right now to buy you out of his life forever.”

“Griffin, don’t give him a penny.” The words came out without warning. “He doesn’t deserve it.”

He doesn’t deserve it. Had Michael actually said that out loud? Before he would have said, or at least thought,  I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you spending a  penny on me. But Griffin valued him so highly, treated him like the rarest and most precious possession…Michael started to think maybe he was.

“No, he doesn’t deserve it,” Griffin said, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans and pulling out his wallet. “But you deserve a life without him. Didn’t you tell me he keeps a running total of the child support he’s paid out on the checks? Where are we? What’s the total?”

“Griffin…” Michael begged.

“Forty-two thousand, three-hundred dollars,” Michael’s mother said in a loud, clear voice, her eyes locked onto Griffin’s. “And if I had the money, I’d give it all back to him to get rid of him too.”

Michael watched as Griffin’s and his mother’s eyes met. Something passed between them that Michael saw but didn’t understand.

“Let’s round it up. Fifty thousand?” Griffin grabbed Michael’s father by the shoulder and turned him around, pushing his chest into the wall. Then using his back as a flat surface, Griffin filled out his check. “I’m feeling generous. We’ll make it sixty-nine thousand. I just love writing 69s. I’ll even put that in the memo. For sixty-nining your beautiful son.”

Griffin spun Michael’s father back around, ripped out the check and stuffed it in his father’s pocket.

“I’m good for it,” Griffin said. “Aren’t I, Mick? Didn’t you say this guy here worked in a stock brokerage?”

Michael nodded. “At Hamilton’s.”

“Nice,” Griffin said in approval. “My father is John Fiske. Heard of him?”

Michael’s father didn’t answer in words but his wide eyes confessed he knew exactly who Griffin’s father was and just how much money Griffin was good for.

“Go, Dad,” Michael said. “You don’t want me to be your son any more than I want you to be my father. Now you don’t have be my father anymore.”

“You just got dumped.” Griffin patted Michael’s father on top of his head. “Sucks, I know. Oh, goodbye.”