Shine - Lauren Myracle [83]
“And?”
She shivered. “Beef can be . . . mean sometimes. Like, he has this thing where he makes fun of homos, even though Patrick is one. You know?”
“Usually he stands up for Patrick,” I argued.
“But not always. Anyway, when they saw me, Beef went into this spiel about how Patrick was mad at his boyfwiend and wasn’t that just so tewwible. He said it in a baby voice, like that, and he swished around and stuff.”
She cocked a hip and flipped her wrist, searching my expression. When I scowled, she dropped the position. “That’s all I know, but it made me think maybe Patrick’s boyfriend is like that. Swishy.”
I absorbed what she’d said. I tried out a scenario in which Patrick’s boyfriend drew attention to himself in a dangerous way—by acting swishy—and Patrick defended him, because Patrick would. Or what if Patrick met up with his boyfriend at the Come ‘n’ Go after hours? What if they had plans to meet that Saturday night, and that’s why Patrick insisted on going back to the store after everything went sour at Suicide Rock? And then, later, what if someone saw Patrick and his boyfriend together?
“So I need to go to Billy the Kid’s,” I said. That’s what it came to.
Bailee-Ann looked worried, but she didn’t tell me not to. Her truck was right behind us, but she also didn’t offer to give me a ride.
“Do you think a person would go to hell just for stepping into a place like that?” Bailee-Ann asked.
“No way,” I said, though I had no idea. I trusted my gut, though. “I don’t think people go to hell for being gay, either, because if they did, that would mean Patrick would, too. And I just don’t believe God would do that.”
“What if there’s different kinds of gay?” she said. “Like, good gay and nasty gay?”
“Um . . . I’m not sure.”
Bailee-Ann fiddled with the keys to her truck.
“Did Beef tell the police about Patrick’s boyfriend?” I asked.
“He, um, didn’t want to get involved. Because of other reasons.”
“Such as?”
She shook her head, and I thought, meth. Beef and this gay bar in Asheville were connected, and not just because of Patrick’s boyfriend working there. And if Beef thought Patrick’s boyfriend was a “rotten egg,” as Bailee-Ann put it . . .
Was it possible that Patrick’s boyfriend used meth? God, was Beef his supplier or whatever?
“What are you going to do?” Bailee-Ann asked.
“Well, I have to go to Asheville, like I said. To Billy the Kid’s, to find Patrick’s boyfriend.”
“How will you get there?”
She hadn’t volunteered to drive me there the first time I threw the idea out, and she sure wasn’t volunteering now. Perhaps she’d maxed out her bravery simply by telling me all this.
“I guess I’ll get a friend to drive me,” I said.
“A friend?” she said dubiously.
I told her about Jason. Not a lot, but enough.
“Oh, okay,” she said, sounding relieved. “Good.” She stood there, and the sun beat down on us, until at last she said, “So, are you going to?”
“What?”
She gave me a funny look. “Call him. Jason.”
“Well, not right this second,” I said. She waited for an explanation, so I added, “I don’t have a phone.” Plus, maybe it was a dumb idea. He said he wanted to help, but now I felt nervous about asking.
She reached into the truck and grabbed hers from the dashboard. It was a cheapie, but she handed it to me and said not to worry about how many minutes I used.
Well, here goes nothing, I thought. I angled my body for privacy and dialed his number.
Afterward, when I gave Bailee-Ann her phone back, she gave me a tentative half-smile. I didn’t know why, and then I realized that I was smiling. Because of Jason.
“You like him, don’t you?” she said.
“Patrick?” I said, deliberately misunderstanding. “Of course. Why would I go to so much trouble for someone I didn’t like?”
She shook her head and climbed into her truck. From out the window, she gave me a parting piece of advice. “Hey, Cat. Watch yourself, okay?”
“I will,” I said, knowing what she was getting at. Patrick’s boyfriend might have