Rentboy

jump the final few feet that he saw William
    Baillie in full camo as usual striding along the path leading to the gates. His wild-looking eyes were
    intent on Fox.
    Landing quietly on the path, Fox said, “Eddie, take off now.”
    “Why? Aren’t you hungry?”
    With every step Baillie was getting closer. It was like watching a car crash in the making. You
    could see it coming but knew you could do nothing to stop it. “Just fucking run!”
    Following Fox’s gaze, Eddie said, “You’re worried about a queer basher? I’ll take care of him
    just like I did those ASBOs.”
    “No. He’ll kill you.”
    Baillie reached them and without speaking grabbed Fox by the back of his neck in a viselike grip
    and began to drag him across the grass. The road was some distance away. “Sir, please, I’ll come
    quietly. Let me walk so Eddie doesn’t get scared.”
    “Let him go, you filthy chav.”
    As the words fell from Eddie’s lips, Baillie released Fox so abruptly that he fell to the ground.
    From his hands and knees Fox caught sight of Eddie looking quite comical in his Jackie Chan stance.
    Though he was taller than William Baillie, who was six feet, his arms looked like matchsticks by
    comparison.
    The halo of light cast by the nearby lamppost was sufficient for Fox to clearly see his father’s
    scarlet face. Someone was going to die, and it couldn’t be Eddie. “Eddie! Run!”
    Stupidly brave, Eddie stood his ground. Even with his black belt he was neither as fast nor as
    vicious as William Baillie. He didn’t have the killer instinct to go with his skills. The combination
    was lethal, and Baillie had it. With one kick to the groin, Baillie felled Eddie before grabbing Fox
    again to continue dragging him across the park.
    In what seemed like only seconds, Eddie was behind them again, and this time he was ready.
    With one swift karate chop after the next he engaged Baillie in combat. Terrified for Eddie’s safety,
    because no matter how hard he fought Baillie would win, Fox screamed, “Eddie, stop.”
    The moment of distraction was enough for Baillie to get Eddie on the ground and pin him down,
    sitting on his chest with his forearm on Eddie’s throat. “Keep away from my lad, you frigging arse
    bandit.”
    Terror shot through Fox’s muscles when he saw Eddie’s eyes begin to bulge. “Sir, please stop!”
    Fox screamed.
    Amazingly William Baillie obeyed and withdrew his arm from Eddie’s throat. He stood up and
    grabbed Fox calmly by the arm as though he had not just tried to kill a man.
    With effort Eddie sat up, one hand holding his throat, the other going into his trouser pocket.
    When he spoke, his voice was strained. “This is madness. I’m calling the police.”
    “Eddie, no, you don’t understand.” One of his lies was about to be exposed, but he had no
    choice. “He’s my dad.”
    Shocked, looking back and forth between them, Eddie said, “But you said your father was dead.”
    “Did you tell him I was dead?” Baillie demanded, shaking Fox like a mother dog shakes a bad
    pup. “Why would you say that?”
    “Because I wish you were,” Fox said clearly.
    Stabbing his finger at the air in Eddie’s direction, Baillie shouted, “Stay away from my son, you
    fucking homo.” Just to drive home his point, he released Fox long enough to kick the phone out of
    Eddie’s hand and land another in his midsection.
    Not even out of breath, Baillie dragged Fox across the park by the back of his shirt. The Lexus
    was illegally parked on York Terrace. Baillie pulled out his keys when they were ten feet away and
    clicked the locks. Only when he had the car door open did he release Fox, shoving him in the
    passenger seat. Once he was comfortable in the driver’s seat, he backhanded Fox in the face. “I’m
    going to kill you when I get you home, boy. What did I tell you about seeing that queer again?”
    Whenever William Baillie was enraged, his face grew impossibly red, and he sprayed spittle
    everywhere. “Do you want me to kill that fucker?”
    But Fox knew his father had no intention of killing Eddie, at least not until after his gang of thugs
    had everything they wanted from him. “No, sir.”
    They were stopped at a traffic light when again Baillie’s hand flew out, the thick knuckles
    catching Fox on his right cheekbone. Blood spurted from the wound. With the edge of his kilt he
    dabbed at it.
    “You will not see him again. Are we fucking clear?”
    Pain screamed through his head. “Yes,