Ricky had told John and me the news about his job offer the night before. For the time being, he wanted to stay with us, mostly because he was scared of Leo turning up again. In his mind, Leo would kidnap and haul him back to work in the city. Ricky thought if he was with us, we would save him. I had my doubts, mostly because from what I’d heard, if Leo wanted someone, John and I couldn’t stop him from kidnapping them.
“Do you think Leo will return?” I asked John after Ricky had gone to bed.
“No clue. It doesn’t matter. I’m not going anywhere with him and neither is Ricky,” he assured me.
After the meeting, while Kate and Beth took Ricky out for lunch, I waited in the greenhouse for the nurse to come pick up her stuff. I hoped she didn’t bring the boys with her. I didn’t think I could stand their teasing today. While I hung around, I leafed through the wholesale catalog put out by a local farmer. His wife had decided to propagate houseplants as a side business, and I thought we should buy from her.
Deciding which varieties and how many of each plant was tricky, especially if I stayed here in Stone Acres and worked for Beth instead of taking one of the more high-profile jobs I’d been offered. I didn’t have any experience with this side of retail, so I worried about ordering too many plants, or even worse, ordering too few if they became popular.
As I was mulling this over, an average-height guy with an athlete’s body and panther’s grace strode up to me. His eyes took me in, and he laughed a nasty bark.
“You Fen?”
I nodded. For some reason I had a bad feeling about this guy. He didn’t look overtly threatening, but he radiated anger. I got the ugly sense that even though I didn’t know him, he was pissed off at me.
“Yeah, I’m Fen. How can I help you?”
“I’m Robert Olsen.” His look said that I should recognize his name.
I waited. Since he was the one whose presence screamed “Fuck you,” I’d stand down until I understood what I’d done to the man.
“I’m Jeremy and Boone’s father.”
The light hadn’t gone on fully, but I had a sneaking suspicion where he was going now that he was standing with his feet shoulder-width apart and was eyeing me like a particularly fascinated snake looking at its next meal.
“The boys come in with their mother sometimes.” He took a step into my space and again squared his stance.
Now I was scared shitless. Fucking A. I started to settle into my self-defense position. I told myself I’d fought off bigger guys during practice at the gym, so I could defend myself against Mr. Olsen.
Before I got in place, he punched me in the face.
I put my hands over my nose as pain exploded in my head. I was dizzy and not too steady on my feet. While I was trying to get myself together to retaliate, he followed through with a punch to the midsection, and all the wind was knocked out of me.
I fell to the floor, my body screaming at me to run and hide, to get away from the agony of burning in hell. Then his foot connected with my stomach. I curled tighter into myself.
I was crying, panting, trying to breathe without antagonizing the pain and making it rear up to strike me again.
“You told my kids they would be faggots, you cocksucker! You told my fucking boys they would be happy being fags when they grew up. You goddamned fucking homo!”
I heard the words and felt another blow, but my fight or flight instinct had shut down in shock. If I could just roll up a little tighter, I could become small enough he wouldn’t see me.
I couldn’t even yell for help I hurt so much. Instead I whispered over and over again, “Stop. Stop. Stop.”
Then my world went black.
* * * *
When I woke, I was in a bed at the clinic. John was standing next to my feet. He looked really upset. My body was wrapped in a thick membrane of numbness, surrounded by a blanket of pain waiting to attack. Whatever protection I had was eggshell thin. I could feel the pulse of pain waiting, biding its time until it could take over my body. My mind tried resisting. I was terrified that whatever the nurse or doctor had given me would wear off and I’d be kicked around some more.
I’d been hit and punched as a scrawny, short kid in school, but for the most part, the kids lashing out at me weren’t all that tough or trained. Mr. Olsen proved himself to be both rough and skilled. He knew how to inflict the most pain, the quickest and easiest way. He’d hit with purpose as if trained to do it. I was past defenseless into innocent and clueless territory. I was a first-level baddie in his game, not even worth taking out his sword or putting on his armor. He’d felled me like DDT on an unwanted weed.
I should have been obliterated and not waking up in the clinic alive.
I took a breath and the pain snuck in, roaring like a pride of lions ready for the kill. I gasped.
“Fen? Hey, Fen. You awake? He’s awake!” John sounded upset and relieved. For an instant, he seemed poised to reach for me—to hug me?—yet he backed off and looked around, thankfully keeping his hands to himself.
Since the lions had me in their grasp and an acid rain poured over me, I didn’t want him to get torn to bits too. He couldn’t touch me or act like he was my friend and lover, or the lions would chew him up and the rain would erase the leftovers.
As I gathered my strength to warn him of
