I Got You | A Gay Romance: A Boyfriend for Rent Book | Gay For You

I Got You

by

Jamie Lake & Jeff Rivera

_______________________________

CHAPTER 1

Forty-five minutes ago, he flashed his fake ID and chugged his last beer at the bar with his best friend.

Now, Jake lay face down on the dirt and gravel road with his face pummeled. The taste of his own blood seeped from his nose into his mouth.  He’d never been in more pain in his life.

They’d never find his body out here in Forest Hills, not in the middle of nowhere. It was only a half an hour from Portland, Oregon, but off the beaten path where no one ever came to. Everyone thought the state was liberal, but they had no idea about its dirty underbelly.

This area was thick with evergreen trees, too hoarded by tree huggers to be cut down and too wild to tame. Ferns and bushes smothered the forest floor, which was the perfect place to hide a dead body. Even the wildlife seemed to be shocked into silence.

He rolled over to see the infinite stars glittered in the cloudless sky. It would have been breathtaking any other night. Any other night that he wasn’t bleeding from the inside.

Focus, dammit, focus.

Cold chills from the midnight air ran through Jake's body. He couldn’t hold a thought and his mind spiraled like a never-ending twister, passing in and out of time.

Disassociated thoughts of something, anything, were scrambling and trying to keep his mind focused.

He should have worn a jacket and for once, he wished he'd gotten the chance to say goodbye to his dad and sister. He hadn’t seen them in years. If he had, then maybe there would be a chance at finding his body.

Now, Jake would never get to see his dad’s face. He would never get to watch him stifle his tears of joy as he one day graduated from college, the first in the family, nor fulfill his dreams of becoming somebody. His dad would know then how much he missed out on Jake's life by abandoning them.

That would never happen, neither would there be a family for Jake one day, not even a chance. He didn’t even get a chance at a career. Other than a few massage therapy courses, Jake had no idea what he wanted to do with his life and now he’d never get a chance to figure that out.

He'd die tonight and just be another growing statistic of gay bashing.

Grunts from the homophobic mob of rednecks muffled his best friend Alberto’s cries for help. Bats were pummeling his almost lifeless body. He deserved so much better in his life.

Guilt burned through Jake. He wasn’t tough enough to defend Alberto although he’d tried. Wiry and pale, Jake didn’t have a prayer of a chance against that many guys.

"You're going to make it through this. We’re both going to live a long life," he mumbled to himself, though that was a lie.

There was a bone-cracking sound. Had they murdered Alberto? Jake wanted to kill them, if only he had the strength.

“Alberto,” Jake tried to scream out, but his throat was too dry, too strained, too coated with the dust he sucked in, and his strength nearly depleted.

“Faggot,” he heard the men say. Faggot. That word stung and clung to him like a bad stench, an ugly reminder of why they’d kept being gay a secret for so long.

The world would now know about Jake if they ever found his remains, spray-painted with the word Fag on it.

His stomach turned thinking about the shock and embarrassment his dad would endure, the stain to their family name.

What a fucked up night. Jake only wanted Alberto to have a good time for his birthday.

Not anymore.

The crunching sound of the gravel gave him a sense of relief. The men piled into the back of the pickup truck, whooping and cheering like they'd just won a football game as it began to back up, leaving them for dead. Maybe there was a way out of this, a way to still help Alberto.

He twisted his neck and grimaced in pain. That's when he saw him — the attacker was returning, the leader of the mob.

Tall and over-sized, the monster of a young man came toward him, ready to finish him off.

Something about him seemed familiar. He'd heard that voice before and he remembered those emerald green eyes that glowed like a predator. The scent of Old Spice, cigarettes and whiskey hit his senses.

Jake froze. What little blood remained in his body and drained from his pale face. The hair lifted on his arms, and the tendons of his neck strained.

He knew who the guy was.

He could see his silhouette backlit by the headlights of the rumbling, battered and mud-stained truck. The exhaust coughed and sputtered, filling his stinging nostrils with heavy pungent smog.

The attacker gripped the baseball bat in his hand, ready to take another shot at Jake's head.

Jake’s heart pounded so hard, it was deafening, ready to explode.  Petrified, his eyes bulged, but his blood boiled with anger.

This motherfucker had just taken away the only somebody he ever loved, the only somebody who cared about him unconditionally. And there was nothing he could do about it.

CHAPTER 2

Emptiness.

It was like a chunk of his heart had gone missing. It far outweighed the physical pain he’d woken up to.

Everything that happened the other night was a nightmare. Tubes ran in and out of Jake’s body like an electrical grid, and the rasping sound of the breathing machine next to him cranked in and out. His heart monitor’s rhythmic never-ending beep ticked on, and Jake had just one thought on his mind.

Alberto.

“Son,” his dad said, sitting by the hospital bed. “Who did this to you?” He was Jake’s step-dad officially, but was the only father Jake had ever known. He had bags under his eyes, his weathered face worn and etched in worry no matter how good he thought he was at hiding it. It’d been so long since Jake had seen his dad, it was sad to see him age so badly. Years of stress, guilt and alcohol abuse hadn’t helped.

“I … don’t know,” Jake lied. He didn’t want to get into it. He knew how bad his dad’s temper was and the last thing he needed was more drama.

His father sighed. He must have resented the fact that Jake wouldn’t open up to him, but his father had only himself to blame.

Part of Jake wanted to hug him after so long not having seen him, but the other part of him remained so angry with him, he just couldn’t let go.

Besides, no amount of fatherly lectures nor meds could numb Jake from the pain he felt right now.

Water, water, why am I so thirsty?
Ice cubes were not going to cut it.

“Son, please tell me. What were you doing out there?” he asked and Jake bit his lip. “And why the hell did they spray paint that
—
that word on you?”

“I …” Jake started to say, cringing in discomfort. He wanted to tell his father everything he’d been hiding his whole life, but he couldn’t bear what it would do to him in a small town like the one he grew up in to know his son was a homo. He wondered sometimes if his father regretted naming him after him. Technically speaking, Jake was a junior, when he was adopted legally as a toddler, they changed his name, but that title brought with it a lot of burden.

“You can tell me,” his father said. “That word. Why that of all things?”

His chest tightened as he said, “I told you. I don’t know. I don’t remember. Can I just sleep?”

“Of course.” His dad forced a smile, hiding his smile as usual. His dad used to be a really handsome man. There was a time when all the ladies used to look at him twice, but now, the years of stress had worn him down. He took a giant breath of relief in. The scent of his exhale told Jake, he’d gone back to cigarettes when he swore he’d quit. “My son’s all man. I bet you got one or two of those chicks at that college of yours too. Don’t you?”

“You know me,” Jake said, conjuring up a smile.

“Son, the cops said
—
when you’re feeling better, they have a few questions for you,” his dad said approaching closer.

Jake swallowed as they were the last people he wanted to talk to.

“Son, I promise you, when I find these guys,” his dad continued and gripped the side of the bed like he was wringing someone’s neck. “I’m going to make them wish
—
”

“Dad
—
Dad. Don’t worry. I’ll never see them again. It’s over,” Jake told him, hoping it was true. With his father’s heart condition, the last thing he needed was to lose him too.

“Okay, yeah … you’re right,” his dad said, tough as nails. Jake had never seen him cry before, but he could tell by the puffiness of his eyes that that’s what he’d been doing.

Jake sighed. He really wasn’t in the mood to talk.

“You got a place to stay?” his dad asked.

“I’m fine,” Jake told him although he had no clue where. With Alberto in the hospital, there’s no way he could sneak into his dorm room every night.

“I want you to stay with me for awhile, with me and your sister Genie, ‘till you get better,” his dad told him.

“I’m cool,” Jake said.

“That wasn’t a request,” his dad said firmly.  “Genie will be by later on. She cleared out your old bedroom.”

There was no sense in arguing with his dad.  What would a few days hurt?  He took a deep breath as if to gather strength for what he really wanted to ask.

“Dad, please, tell me. Is he dead? My friend Alberto
—
?” Jake asked, wheezing between breaths. Even the words choked in his mouth.

His father let out a breath as if releasing the stress of the world. “Son—"

“Mr. Richards. Jake, Sr.?” the doctor interrupted as he poked his head in. “Can I see you for a moment?”

“Sure,” his dad told him. “Rest up.”

“Dad, wait!”

His dad was gone. Jake wanted to scream out for him to return, but he didn’t have the strength. A quick glance at the warped reflection in the chrome rails that held him in and he didn’t even recognize his own face. If he didn’t have a chance for love before, this took it to a whole other level. Only one man held his heart, and now he didn’t know if Alberto was alive or dead.

“God help me!” Someone was talking in his or her sleep from behind the curtain next to him. Cramped and filthy, this is where the hospital stuck poor people they didn’t want to deal with. The outburst made Jake jump until he realized what it was.

The room stank of shit and Clorox so strong the fumes made it difficult to breathe.  God only knows how long it was before the orderlies visited this room, bedpans neglected, crusty dried remains of the other patients’ meals.

If the constant paging over the hospital speakers didn’t get to him, the groans and moans of the person from the next bed would. Even the crusty remains of the flowers and half-filled helium balloons, saying ‘Get Well’ no doubt brought by his father's church, couldn’t lift his spirits.

It'd been years since he'd seen any of the congregation. He couldn't believe how active he used to be in the church. He still had many of their emails and had been tempted to reach out to them. But why? If they got word that he was gay, it'd only ruin his family's reputation.

A bone-chilling draft raced through the paper-thin blankets and up the backside of his hospital gown as if to bring his mind back to where he was.

He could barely make out the muffled tones of his father and doctor speaking. His dad sounded irritated about something, but what? He couldn’t make out.

“Jake,” his dad said, racing inside catching his breath. “Alberto, he
—
”

Jake bit his lip to keep his eyes from watering. This was it: the finality of what he knew was coming. His heart monitor beeped like a hummingbird.

“Did he suffer?” Jake asked.

“Son, Alberto’s alive.”

CHAPTER 3

“Anybody home?” Jake turned around to see his sister Genie standing at the hospital room door. He raced over to her as quickly as his body would allow him and squeezed the life out of her. Had it really been five years that he’d seen or heard from her? She was just who he needed right now standing in Alberto’s room, seeing him like that.

“Look at you, still skin and bones,” she told him.

“And you, still slutty-looking as ever,” he teased.

“Right off the catwalk,” she told him, turning around to show him all her curves squeezed into a striped dress and tossed her long red mane out of her face. “Hey, you gotta use what you got.”

“Use what you got? Don’t you mean, on the street corner?” he said.

“Don’t think just cause you’re bigger I can’t still beat you up,” she said, trying to hide her smile.