Rentboy

dangerous dog, Fox said, “I left a note.”
    “You went to stay with a friend?” The sarcasm in his father’s voice made it clear he didn’t
    believe Fox had any friends. “And you took them morons with you? Making me look bad for fathering
    three idiots.”
    Baillie’s tall, broad frame blocked the doorway. Fox and the twins had their mother’s slender
    build. They would never be as tall as William Baillie. “I’ll just get the twins upstairs, sir.”
    Habitually, when addressing his father, he spoke in a neutral, nonconfrontational tone.
    “You’ll come into my office now. All of you.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Baillie walked in ahead of them and went straight into his office. As soon as his father was out
    of sight, Fox said, “Up the stairs and into my wardrobe. Wait for me there. Run!” Instantly obedient as
    they always were to Fox, the twins took off up the stairs while Fox hurried into his father’s office.
    “Where’s the twins?”
    “They’re tired. I sent them upstairs.”
    With one foot Baillie kicked the office door closed and in the same movement felled Fox with a
    fist to his cheek. He leaned over Fox, screaming into his face. “You are not allowed to leave the
    house without telling me where you’re going. And I don’t want them fucking morons out in public
    anymore.” He punctuated his words with the toe of his boot in Fox’s belly.
    Curled up like a caterpillar that someone had poked, Fox remained on the hardwood floor at his
    father’s feet. Baillie sank down into an armchair, a sneer on his face. “Is that a skirt you’re wearing?
    I’m going to kill you just for that. Now where have you been?” When Fox did not answer, he said,
    “You were with that fucking daft scientist, Atherton, weren’t you?”
    There was no point in lying, because someone in a black car exactly like Maputwa’s had been
    following them. All the more reason not to see Eddie again. Eddie might be able to do karate on an
    unsuspecting ASBO, but William Baillie would kill him before he could say dojo . “Yes, sir.”
    “You are a queer, aren’t you?”
    Slowly, holding his ribs with one arm, Fox sat up, still avoiding eye contact with his father. “It
    was you who told me to be a gay prostie and pick him up.”
    “That was to get into his fucking flat, not to enjoy yourself. Are you a queer? Is my son a frigging
    arse bandit?”
    He’s going to smack me either way. “Yes, sir; I’m gay.”
    Fox wrapped both arms around his head and ducked to the floor as his father jumped to his feet,
    slamming his fist down on the desk. “What did I do to deserve this?” he screamed. “My son is a nancy
    boy, my twins are idiots, and my wife is a fucking alchy. What did I ever do to bring this on? I’m a
    decent man with years of military service behind me. I come from three generations of military men,
    and not one of my children is fit to be a soldier. This is what I get, a queer and a couple of morons?
    It’s not right. It’s not fucking right. I’m a good man. I’m a good father.”
    With both hands he beat Fox across the head and shoulders, slapping repeatedly. Fox felt
    nothing. Whenever he was beaten he went into a kind of trance where he didn’t feel anything until
    later when the bruises started to come out. But what always left him shaking his head in wonder was
    that no matter what William Baillie did, the man always saw himself as the victim.
    “Stay away from Atherton unless I tell you to see him again. Understood?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “And if I find out you’ve been bending over for another man again, I’ll cut your dick off, and then
    no one will want you. Now get out of my fucking sight, you little queer.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Fox got quickly to his feet, ran from the room and straight upstairs. In his bedroom he found the
    twins fast asleep in the wardrobe, snuggled in each other’s arms on the pile of blankets and pillows.
    After closing the wardrobe door quietly, he tiptoed out of the bedroom. No room in the house had a
    lock. Baillie would not allow anyone to shut him out of any room in his house.
    Fox opened the door to his mum’s bedroom and crept in. It had been years since his parents had
    shared a bedroom. His father had the big master bedroom for himself, and his mum had a smaller
    room.
    As expected, she was stretched out on the bed, snoring, stinking of alcohol. An empty wine
    bottle sat on the bedside table. It wasn’t even good wine. When you drank the quantities