Under different circumstances I would have welcomed the change of pace. Despite my aversion to dim-witted acid casualties and aging rebels without a clue, I enjoyed my visits to Billy’s place. The fresh country air cleansed my lungs as the surrounding forest reactivated my love of nature, but not even the peaceful serenity of small-town living could curb my troubled mind. That monster was comin’ round the bend, trailing us out of the city and following close behind like a tailgater out for revenge, unwilling to change lanes and pass us by. They were out for blood, the wealthy businessmen, the hooded perverts; the ring of powerful men with a lust for young boys licked their lips drooling after Gabriel.

The wind picked up speed and rolled through the treetops as I stepped out of the car and glanced at the graying sky. We were in more trouble than I cared to admit, but as the wind thrust forward and lost its velocity to the open field, I knew that full disclosure was the only way out of this rabbit hole. Just like the bold red writing on the mask I made for the pinch-faced lawyer, exposing their perverted deeds was the only way to cap their encroaching power over us. We had to confront them head on, and if we survived the Halloween party, I intended on taking my story to the media and invoke the unsuspecting masses. There’s power in numbers, and the public I expertly shunned on a daily basis would be our only salvation from the boogiemen of our past.

Michael backed against the car as the bearded nudist stood close enough to peck him on the cheek. Stiff-necked with his arms wrapped tightly across his chest, he slowly maneuvered his way around the babbling beatnik but maintained eye contact while doing so. I smiled and turned away before my own eyes deceived me, but it was useless. Unwittingly, I glanced at the treasured jewels dangling below an unkempt tuft of kinky gray hair. Michael slipped in beside me as we watched the friendly burnout return to his campfire circle, his flabby white butt impossible to ignore like the hypnotic flow of a lava lamp. I laughed and jumped forward as Michael’s hand gave mine a good slap.

The small a-frame house stood like a modern-day teepee in the middle of the woods. Smoke rose from the black circular chimney jutting out from the side of the roof, and two small additional rooms were awkwardly attached to both sides of the wood-paneled house. We climbed the stairs and stepped onto the wraparound porch where we spent most of our time as teenagers smoking weed and playing guitar. Not much had changed. Two long-haired guys in their mid to late twenties greeted Michael from the porch bench and offered him a toke off their dove-tailed joint. Mind you, I’m still unsure of what separates a dove-tailed joint from a regular one, but that’s what Michael called it as he thanked them and enjoyed three long puffs. I stood idly by, tempted to let loose and relax but fearful that Gabriel might see me through the living room window. I declined the offer when Michael held it out for me to take and followed him inside.

It was a cozy house. Michael and I entered through the backdoor which led into the kitchen where steam from the coffeepot stopped me in my tracks. Grabbing a mug from a hook on the wall, I helped myself to a fresh cup of the strong brew. Colorful psychedelic art covered the slanted walls as we rounded the corner into the living room. A cast-iron fireplace sat in the middle of the room and an open staircase led to a small loft upstairs where three twin sized beds resided. We glanced at each other and looked around the house for signs of life. Michael stood by the kitchen bar and flipped open a box of doughnuts, his head bobbing to the side as he rubbed his fingers together and picked out one with chocolate icing and sprinkles. I shook my head in protest when he offered me one. My body rejected food, and the thought of choking down cold sugar rings churned the air bubbles forming in my stomach.

Billy emerged from the backroom with a light blue towel wrapped around his waist. Bare-chested and ready for his centerfold shoot, he padded across the dark wood floor as water dripped down his washboard stomach. Long strands of wet hair draped over his broad shoulders and brushed against his round biceps with such perfection that I almost felt the need to yell ‘action’ through an invisible megaphone. Quiet on the set, dim the lights and queue the saxophone, but the eye candy was a nice change from the lava flow outside.

“Gabriel and Lisa are upstairs,” he said, pulling up a chair by the fireplace. Grinning, he asked, “You two see Tom out there?”

Michael nodded, “Yeah, all of him.”

Swallowing down the rest of my coffee, I patted Michael on the shoulder and headed into the kitchen for a refill. Billy suggested having a bonfire later on in the evening and mentioned that some friends he knew from Austin might also be dropping by. Billy’s place was always the party house, something about the ambience or the relaxed atmosphere, or perhaps it was the unlimited supply of weed and alcohol that summoned the party gods, but whatever the case, I wasn’t in the mood for it. Rather, I was trying not to be in the mood. I had a battle plan to lay out, and I suspected, actually I knew that Michael would contribute very little to developing preliminary plans. The bonfire would take him over and the crowd would cheer him on as he consumed whatever mood enhancers were available and entertained them with his rock star stories. I knew I was on my own until the next morning when he would stumble into the car, hung over and halfway asleep, and come up with some play it by ear plan that would no doubt end badly.

I called out to Gabriel before heading upstairs. Not so much to warn him of my arrival, but rather, in an attempt to extract Lisa from the room. I needed to talk to him privately and prepared myself for more shocking revelations about the boy I saw as my perfect little angel.  And he was, even after admitting his drug use, even after the overdose, I still gave him an out and put the blame on everyone but Gabriel. I blamed myself, Michael, the school system, society, Kurt Cobain and God himself, but not Gabe.

My plan worked. Lisa appeared at the top of the stairs and glared at me with her arms folded against her full bosom, her long blonde locks framing her stern face. When I reached the top step, she grabbed my arm and whispered in my ear for me to be gentle with him. I pulled away and told her to mind her own business. Smiling, she glanced back at Gabriel and quietly reminded me that he was her business before descending the stairs. I disagreed but let the comment slide.

Gabriel sat in the middle bed with the covers pulled up to his chest and his favorite green hat hiding his disheveled head of hair. His bright green eyes met mine and then quickly blinked and looked down at his hands. How could I not be gentle with him? Captivated by his tender face, I stood in the entryway and admired his beauty, the natural arch of his dark eyebrows and high cheekbones, the perfectly sloped ridges descending from his nose to the Cupid’s bow of his lips – sometimes I wondered if he truly was some type of supernatural being. I wanted him to be mine, my biological son, my namesake, my prodigy, but he wasn’t. In a cruel twist of fate, an ironic contrast between good and evil, or beauty versus ugliness, Gabriel belonged to a psychotic pedophile that sacrificed babies, skinned cats and drew pentagrams on floors. I told myself the minute I discovered who his father was at that party tomorrow night, I’d take him out. No need in keeping that threat around. My preliminary plans consisted of more than one untimely death.

Gabriel kept his head down and fidgeted with the patchwork quilt as I approached the bed and sat down before him. “We need to finish our talk,” I said, resisting the urge to pull him into my arms and shower his forehead with kisses. “I need to know what happened with Mr. Spencer,” I said.

His green eyes darkened as he looked up and met my stare, “Nothing happened,” he said softly.

I redirected my strategy. “Cut the bullshit, Gabe. I need to know what happened. Besides, lying is a sin.”

He smirked and crinkled his forehead, “When did you find religion?” he asked. “Last I checked, you didn’t believe in God.”

“I don’t,” I said, “but you do.”

Gabriel sighed and looked down at the quilt. Tracing his slender finger across the edge of each patterned square, he tilted his head and kept his eyes on the patchwork quilt. “My real dad believes in God,” he said, tracing around a blue polka-dotted square, “but he thinks Lucifer is the true God of men. He thinks the devil’s the good guy.”

I sat silent and digested the comment while Gabriel kept his head down and continued tracing his finger across the quilt. The slanted ceiling closed in on me and a gush of heat swept over my body from the inside out. “How do you know that?” I asked.

His eyes caught the light as he glanced up at me and smiled, “He told me to tell you hello.”

“He was at the party?” I asked. “With Mr. Spencer?”

Gabriel traced his finger down the seams of a paisley-patterned square and stared blankly at the quilt. His hand hovered over the next square, the brown textured fabric lightly grazing his fingertips as they worked their way down.

“Stop it!” I grabbed his hand and shook him until his green eyes acknowledged me. They startled me, clear and bright with rage, his eyes enthralled me. I knew those eyes. I recognized that fierce, piercing stare. He twisted his wrist to free himself from my grip, but I tightened up and demanded he came clean and told me everything. His eyes twitched, and the rage turned to sadness in an instant – little boy lost returned with a lingering twinkle in his gaze. Leaning in closer, his breathless voice tingled the hairs on my neck, “When can we go snow skiing?” he asked. Dropping his arm, I quickly withdrew from his pale green stare.

I thought real hard about everything I had said to him while keeping watch by his hospital bed, but I knew. I knew what I’d said. I told him he wasn’t mine, told him he wasn’t my son, a fact he already knew of course but the rant had been in bad taste, and meant for my ears only. He absolutely heard. I saw it on his face, heard it in his voice, and felt it pour from his all-consuming rage turned pain. He had my number and I had his, we were both frauds. Blinking my eyes into focus, I lit a cigarette and took a couple of puffs before handing the rest to Gabriel.

“I need to know what happened at that party,” I said. My little angel slowly reached up and held it between his slender fingers, his eyes looking away as he placed it between his lips and inhaled.

Gabriel napped a good two hours before Billy called us down for dinner. I lay trapped with him nuzzled up against me, his head tucked under the covers, and a fat cat resting his girth on my ankles. I didn’t want it to end. If we stayed like that, just like that, curled up next to each other and tucked away from the world, we’d be safe from that monster comin’ round the bend. God help me, I promised I’d keep him safe. I stroked his thick hair as he cried into my arms and confessed the sins of evil men. He fell asleep crying, but I laid awake listening to the sound of his breathing with my eyes wide open, terrified. I told him I’d keep him safe, but neither of us believed me.