Chapter 4 #2
“I just don’t support all that sissy shit—makeup, pronouns, trans-whatever. I only fuck real men, like you and me.”
“I’m nothing like you,” I snap, anger boiling inside of me. “Sawyer supports conversion therapy.”
Ben huffs, shaking his head. “Do we really have to get into politics? I thought we were having a good time.”
“We were, until I realized you’re a bigot.”
“Excuse me?!” he barks.
“Goodbye, asshole.” I reach for the door handle.
His calloused hand clamps around my wrist. “Dude, c’mon. At least suck me off. All that kissing got me hard.”
I rip my hand away and shove the door open. “Abso-fucking-lutely not.”
The door slams behind me. I storm back into the bar, so livid I can barely see straight. Through the fog of rage, I spot Aliyah at the pool table with Cam. She’s twirling a braid around her finger, leaning in close, both of them chatting like no one else exists.
I clear my throat.
Aliyah startles, then turns to me. “What are you doing here? I thought you left with Ben?”
“Change of plans,” I grumble.
Her smile vanishes. “What happened?”
“He’s a douchebag, that’s what happened.”
“Did he hurt you? I will fucking kill him,” she seethes.
She starts marching toward the door that leads to the parking lot, but I grasp her shoulder and pull her back. She’s barely five feet tall, but I know she’d punch him without hesitation.
“No, he didn’t hurt me,” I say quickly. “But he supports Franklin Sawyer.”
Aliyah and Cam both cringe like I’ve said something foul.
“Seriously?” Aliyah asks.
“Ew,” Cam adds.
“You didn’t know?” I eye Cam skeptically. “I thought you were friends.”
“Friend is a generous word.” Cam laughs dryly. “This was our first time hanging out outside work. Also the last.”
“I can’t believe Ben supports that asshole,” Aliyah says, nose wrinkling with disgust.
A frown pulls at my lips. Although I’m surprised, it’s not a complete shock. I grew up around here. People wear bigotry like camouflage.
Aliyah seems to catch my expression—defeated and exhausted. “There are plenty of other guys in here,” she says brightly, tugging on my sleeve. “We’ll find you someone else!”
I shake my head firmly. “I want to go home.”
Her shoulders fall. “Okay,” she concedes quietly.
I head for the door, and she trails after me—then pauses, spinning back to Cam.
“Wait! Let me give you my number.”
Guilt twists in my stomach, realizing I barged in and ruined their moment. It seems like they were hitting it off. But Aliyah’s my ride, and I need to get out of here immediately.
She grabs a pen, scrawls her number on a napkin, and presses it into Cam’s hand with a smile. “Text me?”
“Sure thing.”
Aliyah pecks her cheek, leaving a smudge of ruby lipstick on her brown skin. She waves before jogging to catch up with me.
We climb into her car in silence. As she starts driving, I rest my head against the window, watching the trees pass by in a blur of green. She reaches across the center console to place a gentle hand on my thigh. Her nails are painted neon pink, with little red hearts on the thumbs.
“I’m sorry, Mason,” she says softy.
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not. I wanted you to have fun tonight.”
I sigh. “It was stupid of me to think I could find a nice guy around here. It’s impossible. As long as I’m stuck living in this shithole, I’m never getting laid.”
“Oh, Mason,” Aliyah breathes out, shaking her head sadly. “Sometimes I think you’re your own worst enemy.”
My body tenses. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She frowns and removes her hand from my lap, her grip tight on the steering wheel. “It’s just… you don’t have to live in Claremont Shores,” she says carefully.
“Of course I do. I have Maddie.”
“But you’re not even her legal guardian. Your parents still have custody.”
She’s right, but it doesn’t really matter. It’s all a matter of paperwork. After Mom’s attempt, Child Protective Services did a quick investigation. One interview in which my mom insisted the overdose was accidental. One home visit. They said everything was stable enough and closed the case.
My father—who’s been absent for more than a decade—still technically has joint custody. Only because he and Mom never bothered filing for divorce when they separated.
“I know I’m not Maddie’s legal guardian, but it doesn’t change anything,” I mutter, voice low. “What are you trying to say?”
“I’m just saying you chose this. It was your decision to drop out of college. Nobody asked you to do that. There were… other options.”
I huff and cross my arms. “Like leaving Maddie alone with our mom? She can’t take care of herself, let alone a kid.”
Aliyah exhales tiredly. “Obviously not, but there were other possibilities. Foster care. You could’ve told CPS your mom wasn’t fit. Didn’t your aunt offer to take Maddie in?”
I shake my head and gnaw at a hangnail on my thumb until it bleeds. “My aunt lives in Chicago. I wasn’t going to let them uproot Maddie’s life.”
“So instead… you uprooted yours?”
The words land in my stomach like a punch. My vision is suddenly blurry, my eyes stinging.
I cough to clear my throat. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Mason—”
“Please.” I wipe my damp face with the hem of my T-shirt before looking out the window, avoiding Aliyah’s worried gaze. “Just take me home.”
Aliyah frowns before turning up the radio to fill the silence between us.
As we approach the Claremont Shores highway exit, I feel its claws tightening around me, constricting my lungs. A feeling of inevitable doom settles in my gut as we drive down the familiar streets.
Home sweet home.