Angel and the Assassin 3: Sins of the Father

it as a threat.
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    7

    Very calmly he said, “I might have to. I might have to report you to the police as
    well. I was underage. How do I know you haven’t been with other underage boys,
    before or since?” The last thing on earth he would do was tell the police. Even if he
    wanted to, which he didn’t, he couldn’t with his job. But he had to do something, and
    the threat would likely be enough.
    “There was no one else, Kael, just you. You were as big as a man anyway, and you
    acted like one.”
    “But I was a kid.” No grown man would have fallen for Shawn’s uncertain
    charms, not even when he’d been younger and better looking. “And you committed a
    crime.”
    “What about when I met you in Piccadilly Circus ten years ago? You were old
    enough then and you still wanted me.”
    “I didn’t want you. I just wanted an arse to fuck,” Kael said. What he had wanted
    that day was to rid himself of the hurt and disappointment he had felt when Shawn had
    rejected him at the end of that summer.
    “You can fuck me now if you want. We could go over there.” With his cigarette he
    indicated a darkened doorway along the building.
    The very thought of sex with Shawn made Kael feel queasy. “Err…no thanks,” he
    said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “Why would I want you when I’ve got a handsome
    boy waiting upstairs for me?”
    For a long moment, Shawn remained still, looking up at him, apparently gauging
    his intent. Finally he dropped his cigarette and ground it under his toe. “What do you
    want?”
    “I want you to get lost and leave my mum alone.” He paused. “Or I’ll make you.”
    Without another word, Shawn walked away, past the Tate Liverpool art gallery,
    around Canning Dock, and across the road into the downtown area.
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    8

    When Kael walked into the flat a few minutes later, his mum looked up, surprised.
    “Where’s Shawn?”
    “He had to go,” Kael said. “Do you want some wine?”
    “Yeah, go on, why not.” The disappointment in her face rocked him with
    momentary guilt. But he could not let that piece of crap back into her life.
    Angel jumped up. “I’ll get it, Daddy.” He raced to the kitchen ahead of Kael and
    grabbed a bottle of white wine from the fridge while Kael took three glasses from the
    cupboard. “Did that man leave, or did you tell him to take a hike?” Angel whispered.
    “I told him to take a hike,” Kael said. “Why were you so friendly with him?”
    Angel leveled a questioning look at him. “Because I’ve got a daddy who insists I
    be polite to everyone and not make him ashamed of me. I always try to make you
    proud, Daddy.”
    “Yes, I know you do. I’m sorry,” Kael said quietly.
    “Oh God! You didn’t think I fancied him, did you?” The look of horror on Angel’s
    face was testament to the fact that Shawn did not interest him even in passing. “He
    stunk of cigarettes. He had nicotine stains on his fingers. And he’s old!”
    “I’m old compared to you,” Kael said.
    “Daddy, thirty-three is not old. That guy must be seventy.”
    This time Kael laughed out loud. “He’s fifty-four, but I suppose compared to
    nineteen, that’s old.”
    From the living room, Sharon shouted, “Where’s that wine? And there’s a box of
    chocolates on top of the fridge.”
    Kael grabbed the chocolates, and they joined Sharon in the living room. They
    drank wine, ate chocolates, and chatted until it was late. Angel lay stretched out on the
    couch with his head on a pillow in Kael’s lap. All the while they chatted, Kael ran his
    fingers through Angel’s long, soft, beautiful hair. He still had not taken the boy for the
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    9

    buzz cut he kept threatening him with, and it trailed well past Angel’s shoulders,
    enhancing the beauty of his pale skin and delicate features.
    “I love the Christmas tree, Sharon,” Angel said happily. “Purple ornaments. Who
    woulda thunk it? Daddy says Christmas trees just make a mess and gather dust.” He
    was not being sarcastic, but simply repeating what Kael had told him when Angel had
    asked if they could have a tree. Sometimes when Angel remarked casually on Kael’s
    restrictions, he felt like Scrooge. No Christmas tree. No computer games. A least now he
    had the Xbox.
    “It’s not a real one, but it’s nice, isn’t it?” Sharon said. “We always had an artificial
    tree, didn’t we, Kael?”
    “We