Page 9 of His Stepdad Wears Leather

The light from the inside of the tienda washed over his devilish features and caused him to look all the more dangerous. Noah’s gut twisted, sensing he wasn’t safe.

“Cost me? I said I don’t have any money.”

The man inched closer, closing the gap. A glimmer in his eye changed… and Mr. Rough Trade transformed into Mr.DangerousTrade. “There areotherways to pay.”

“You just showed up on a bus… which would lead me to believe you don’t have a vehicle.”

“My cousins are coming to pick me up in a few minutes,” he replied, his smile growing a little wider. “If you asked them nicely… and were good to us… Ithinkwe could be persuaded.”

Noah took a step back. Alarm bells went off in his brain. The hell if he was getting into some stranger’s car to disappear into the night. He wouldn’t become another statistic, especially now that he’d finally found freedom. “Maybe next time.”

The guy pushed Noah against the outside of the market. He leaned in closer, his smile threatening. “You sure?”

Noah swallowed. “Absolutely sure.”

“That’s too bad,” the guy said, pouting a little.

A car pulled up to the tienda, loud music blaring—and stole the guy’s attention. Noah was able to duck through the narrow space between the exterior and the man. “I’ve got to go. Thanks!”

Shaken, he quickened his steps. With one glance over his shoulder, he saw the man wasn’t giving chase.

Thank god.

His stepmother’s too-sweet voice whispered in his mind.Now be a good little boy and get on your knees to pray to Him for this blessing.

Noah kept on walking, wondering when her voice would stop tormenting him.

Never, Noah. I will be with you always and forever.

He could see her in his mind’s eye. Viciously chopping ne’er-do-well vegetables on the thick wooden slab on the counter of her kitchen plastered with floor-to-ceiling chickens. The animal adorned the walls, the pictures, her aprons, the dishtowels, the plates, the cookie jars—everything in her kitchen was covered with chickens.

While plundering the open refrigerator one of the rare days she hadn’t been home after school, his best friend, Stan, had said, “You said your stepmother was super religious, but you’re obviously wrong. She’s obsessed with cocks.”

Noah chuckled at the memory of chocolate milk spurting from his lips and nose… he’d barely been able to keep his composure in the kitchen from that point forward. Even years later, he’d spontaneously burst into laughter at the memory. Which had cost him a few punishments, but it had been worth it in his book. As the laughter faded he immediately grew depressed over the fact he might never see his best friend again. Stan was the one thing he’d miss about home. Theonlything. He wished he hadn’t ditched his phone. In that moment, Noah needed to hear a friendly voice.

He checked behind him once more and didn’t see anyone following. With a relieved sigh, he forged ahead, focusing on the glimpses of the small town. His gaze roamed over everything as he followed the sidewalk, trying to pick outanythingthat seemed familiar. The houses were small, and many appeared empty. He’d supposedly once lived there—many years before. Noah didn’t remember much from his existence then. Memories of his mother were fuzzy—he remembered the sweet scent of flowers—and books. She’d had tons of books. There had been another lady, too. He couldn’t remember her name or who she was, but he did remember a weird laugh, bear hugs, and playing with a doctor set with her once.

Above all, what he truly remembered was feeling safe.

Loved.

Happy.

Maybe it wasn’t true.

Maybe he’d imagined it all…

But he had to find out, one way or another. Anything had to be better than home where he felt none of those things.

Right?

She abandoned you… she never once tried to see you… she won’t want you back. She’s moved on with her life… and has a new kid to replace you.Abbie Lee had once told him that in a fit of rage. Those words now whispered through his mind over and over, growing louder with every step.

The fear mounted. His heart quickened… his chest tightening. Crossing the country on a multi-day bus-ride seemed like nothing now. The last fifteen miles were going to be hell. Hopefully he’d survive to the end. Forcing his maudlin thoughts aside, he pulled his jacket’s zipper higher against the cold. Noah threaded his duffel over both shoulders before shoving his bare hands into his pockets. Coming from the south, he hadn’t needed winter gear. Summer was almost upon Tennessee.

Now in California, it seemed like winter was still going strong. Wasn’t it supposed to be balmy and warm there? He was going to freeze to death. Trudging on another couple of miles or so, he heard the muted sounds of music growing with every step. As he neared the source, he saw an old brick warehouse in the distance that had a throng of vehicles parked out front. The music grew louder the closer he moved—club music. His footsteps synced to the beat of one of his favorite songs, a smile growing on his face. When he saw the rainbow flag waving proudly over the front door, his smile grew.

Fingering the fake ID in his pocket, he contemplated making a pitstop. That ID had gotten him into his current predicament—the catalyst that had forced him to run away. Stan had convinced him to check out an LGBT club in Nashville. An hour into their visit, he’d been caught by his step-uncle, the sheriff of the neighboring county. His parents had had him followed, it seemed. Once home, shit had hit the fan. Luckily, no one had found the ID, or it would’ve been confiscated.

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