Page 94 of Big Britches

Now, driving through town, Titus stopped at Spoon’s one traffic light, wondering for the millionth time if it was possible in the current age of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell for an openly gay man to be elected mayor of a small Georgia town. There was Pedro to consider, too. Was it fair to ask him to follow one major commitment with another? Moving in with your boyfriend was a big step. Add to that a potential political campaign and their being outed as a couple—it might be a little too much to ask.

Shit, Titus thought. Not a little. It’s a lot.

Pedro was the reason for it all, though. Had he not opened Titus’s gate–both literally and metaphorically–who knew whether the motivation would have been as strong?

Nope. I’d still be wasting away by the pool or on the sofa.

He knew this for sure, and for that reason alone, he would never run for mayor without Pedro’s consent. No matter how much he loved his daddy, he planned to spend the rest of his life with P. He would never let anything or anyone prevent that.

The light changed from red to green and he eased off of the brake pedal, rolling through the intersection.

He had almost convinced himself that his outing this morning was for Pedro as well. Tuttle had strictly forbidden him to make any contact with Silas. Let the law handle it, he’d said. You need to just wash your hands of him, son.

But Titus couldn’t let Silas get away with hurting someone a second time. The image of little Timmy Peterman had haunted him, walking HOCO’s halls with black eyes and a swollen lip, bruised and defeated. And for what? Sport? Bragging rights? Titus couldn’t comprehend it.

How on earth could a human being take satisfaction in exploiting the vulnerability of another?

And here Silas was, doing it again with Pedro, Carlos, and probably countless others.

History repeats.

It violated every principle of Titus’s being. He’d let Silas slide with it back then, turning a blind eye for the sake of his own secret and fear of being exposed. Youth had a strange way of obscuring the things that matter. Maturity and self-acceptance had cleared the haze.

No more.

He turned right into the parking lot of Compton’s Greenscapes, gravel crunching beneath the wheels of his truck. He’d come early, hoping to catch Silas alone. But there were two vehicles in the parking lot, Silas’s truck and a white BMW.

Maybe it’s another of his workers already out in the field.

That thought was gone as quick as it came. No one working for Silas could afford a car that nice. Could be Susie Flanagan, his receptionist, though.

At seven thirty in the morning?

Titus thought not. Businesses like this may start early on the back end but calls and bookkeeping wouldn’t begin before nine.

Whoever this person was, they’d tossed a good-sized monkey wrench into his plans.

He closed his truck door quietly and crossed toward the smaller office building, stepping softly on the gravel. The glass entranceway was dark. Titus tried the door and found it unlocked. Quietly as he could, he opened it and stepped through.

It was darker inside, but he could see fine from the natural light spilling through the transparent door. Susie’s desk was in front of him, surrounded by sparse furniture. Additional light and muffled voices were coming from down the hall. One he recognized as Silas, but the other he couldn’t place.

Titus had planned to surprise Silas by confronting him on his own turf. He would warn him to steer clear of Pedro and inform him he was ending any contracts for future business with Compton’s Greenscapes. That, of course, he would expect. What Silas wouldn’t be expecting was the loss of several other accounts, including Truman Shepherd, Tuttle Barksdale, the Hawthorne House, the high school, and the City of Spoon. Titus knew the most effective way to take an opponent down was not with fists, but with his wallet. He had no intention of getting into a physical fight with Silas, but if the message conveyed resulted in one, so be it.

But who the hell is back there with him?

Once sure that no one had heard him enter, he tiptoed closer to the hallway. He reached a shelving unit next to the hall and stopped, leaning against it. The voices were much clearer here, and this is what he heard:

“Yeah,” Silas said. “Big Britches fucked everything up. I had the little fucker locked up and ready to go, but he and Tuttle convinced Junior that they had a witness, and that they would bust him for entrapment. So, Junior let him go.”

“Of course they did,” the mystery voice said. “Beavis and Butthead foiled again.”

Titus grinned.

“I was doing it for you.” Silas said.

“Bullshit. You’ve been crushing the dreams of motivated Mexicans long before Big Britches took a fancy to one.”

“Thank Christ I hadn’t called INS yet. I could be in hot water.”