Page 14 of Slay the Gay Away, Daddy

“Anyway,” I say, ignoring him, because he’s clearly lying—either to me or to himself. “We finished the first video for his YouTube channel. I found something while—”

“So, you’ve changed your mind? You want Daddy Meadows to turn your boyfriend into a superstar? Don’t worry, kid. I can set the Russian bots loose. We’ll make him viral in no time.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” I close my eyes and sigh. “And I’m not calling you Daddy. That’s not something we’re going to do.”

“Suit yourself.”

I take a deep breath, because I know I can’t get too rude with Meadows. The man is a trained killer, for fuck’s sake, and I’mjust a twinkish little thing with minimal muscle mass. He’d snap me like a twig—or maybe more apropos, he’d snap me like a twink. Still, I need to ask him.

“Spit it out, kid,” he says, his voice calm. Measured. “Whatever you’re worried about telling me, just tell me.”

“Have you been giving Miles the serum?”

There’s a long pause that grows uncomfortable, then Meadows clears his throat and says, “I have.”

His honesty takes me aback, and I just sit here, blinking at the walls, dazed. “Why?”

“Because I can.”

“That’s not a reason, Meadows,” I say, trying to stop my voice from hissing. “That’s just dumb.”

He’s quiet for a while like he’s lost in thought, then he exhales heavily. “Fine. I like you, Matthews. I see a lot of myself in you—not it in a gay way, obviously. And not that there’s anything wrong with it, if it was. The thing is, you’ve been a real asset to me, digging up intel about our targets. I wanted to treat you.”

“By drugging my pastor?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, that’s part of it. I see the way you look at him, kid. I know how protective you are of him. I also see the way he stares at you.”

“What do you mean?

“He stares at you like you’re prime-fucking-beef. Like he wants to bend you over and spit-roast you during Sunday service.”

“Yes, well, considering spit-roasting would involve another man in front of me while he’s behind me, I don’t think that’s what he wants at all, but thanks for the mental picture, Meadows.”

“If that’s what you need to land your daddy, I’ve got you, little guy.”

I almost choke on my tongue. “What?”

Meadows is breathing hard on the other end of the phone, and he quietly whispers, “I can do this,” to himself. Clearing his throat, he finally says, “If you need me to be the mouth end of the spit roast, I will. I’ve got you, bro. A mouth is a mouth.”

I open my mouth to object, but there’s a loud, pained, wailing sound on the other end of the line. I’m assuming it’s Pet, because the cries are muffled, and it sounds like he’s hyperventilating. The phone thuds, and Meadows’ footsteps rush away, though not very far.

“Ah, hell, Pet. I’m sorry, little man,” he says, his voice calm and soothing. “Baby, I’m sorry. Of course, if I was going to give my cock to a man, it would be you.” Pet makes some more muffled sounds, and somehow, Meadows understands every word. “Yeah, I know you do. And I care for you too.”

Done with this conversation, I end the call and lie back in bed, trying to make sense of it all. Meadows has been feeding Miles a daily dose of our agency’s truth serum. Tatum’s told me about it before. Apparently, his hulking husband used to drug him daily. I remember him saying it made him feel warm. Like every trace of resistance had fallen each time the concoction took effect. I bring up Tatum’s contact on my phone, because if anyone can help me figure out what to do next, it’s him.

My mind is racing. Why hasn’t the serum pulled the truth out of him before? We’ve spent so many nights together with him under the influence. If he really has been taking the serum for as long as Meadows claims, shouldn’t he have told me he was gay much sooner? I guess it doesn’t matter, because it all comes out in the wash. That’s what Mom always says in her soft, babylike voice. What matters now is what happens next. I will not allow Miles to continue this ex-gay self-imposed emotional exile. How can I? How the hell could anyone expect me to? As long as there’s breath in my body, I’ll fight for Miles. For the boy he’shidden away. For the man I know he can become. The sweetest man on God’s green earth.

I’ve spent weeks falling deeper and deeper in love with Miles Brooks. Weeks being held in his arms as he sang me long-forgotten hymns from my youth. Whatever our end may be, I’m going to ride there at his side, stealing his nights like keepsakes.

I grab a framed photo of us from my nightstand and stare down at my Miles. In the picture, he and I are at a church revival. We’re both sitting at a picnic table, laughing at a joke he shared. I flip the frame over and pull back the clasps to remove the cardboard backing. The picture is over a decade old, but the black sharpie message on the back is standing strong, unfading.

You’re going to change the world, Dare-bear.

If only I could start by changing his mind.

chapter six

It feels like my heart is going to fly out of my chest.

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