Bobby's Trace by Edward C. Patterson

Author:Edward C. Patterson
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: M/M Contemporary, Source: Amazon
ISBN: 9781434893963
Publisher: Edward C. Patterson
Published: 2008-03-11T00:59:55+00:00

Chapter Nine

The Key

Mr. Jameson’s wheezing drifted up the staircase seeping through the gaps in the walls to invade Perry’s uneasy solace. Perry winced. He clung to the phone receiver — clung and paced.

“Pick up, Marlin,” he muttered. “Please, pick up.”

Perry had been dialing the infamous cell phone number for three days now and even messaging service had been suspended. No doubt, Marlin was avoiding him, not that Perry blamed him. He thought they hit it off pretty well, and in fact, the sex was wonderful — liberating. Still, Marlin had, no doubt, viewed the evening with Yum Yum as a one-night stand . . . just one of many gleaned with that mysterious cell phone. Still, Perry also sensed a flickering ember in Marlin, a spark that could be fanned and nurtured beyond a kitchen romance.

If it weren’t for Bobby.

Bobby was a stumbling block . . . still. Not only a constant distraction, but also now rattling through Perry’s world as a hallucination or . . . some phantom that lingered. Perry couldn’t explain it. It was as if a cloud surrounded him — a portal to some unearthly place that enveloped anything he touched. He had to clear the air with Marlin. He needed to hear the damning words from Marlin’s mouth — words that released him from these new feelings that were kindled.

“Marlin, pick up.”

No chance. Perry had left hurried messages for days. Now, listening to dial tone when the voice mail should have kicked in threw him in the void. Soon, he anticipated a constant busy signal, and then a voice coming on saying, This number has been disconnected at the customer’s request. Fuck off, Perry and leave me alone. That means you!

Mr. Jameson wheezed again. Perry slammed the receiver down, placing his hands on the dresser top. He stared at the one thing that he had dragged from the closet that perhaps should have remained buried — Bobby’s diary. He found it stuck in an old Nike box while sorting through the shoes. He hadn’t realized that Bobby kept a diary, because he never saw him scrawling in it.

Diaries are sacred. Perry was not a prober into forbidden and private thoughts. He would die if anyone looked at his diary, if he ever kept one. Still, Bobby’s diary enticed him.

Read me. I am gone now and have much to say that I couldn’t say before. Read me.

It would have been easy to flip open the pages and soar into the secrets, except Bobby triumphed. The key needed to unleash the secrets was missing. So the leather-bound, tight clasped tome would remain shut, unless Perry applied drastic measures — wire cutters, a measure he would forgo.

Perry raised the diary to his nose. It held Bobby’s musky aroma, an aroma that jostled recall.

What secrets do you have in here? What have you hidden from me, Bobby?

A breeze mussed Perry’s hair, like a set of fingers roaming through his scalp. Panic. He turned about, but he was alone. He shuddered and regarded the corners of the room.

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