Page 55 of Slay the Gay Away, Daddy

Scotty’s eyes light up with joy. “Are you at all interested in polyamory? Because I know two bisexual women back home who are looking to turn their new home into a harem of sorts, but one where everyone fucks everyone equally. I think. Honestly, I’m not sure if I’m supposed to even call it a harem. Is that offensive? I know there’s a book genre called Reverse Harem, but I don’t know if the term is only acceptable in theform of literature.” He sighs. “Well, if my life were a book, I’d be home free. Sucks for me. Sigh.”

“Did you just say the word sigh?” I ask, my irritation rising.

“I did, and I’ll do it again. Do you have a problem with that? Because I’ll call Daddy and have him kill you dead.” Scotty looks down at the dead body on the floor and winces, his cheeks flushing. “Sorry. I forgot your dad just got his brains bashed in. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“Enough! I’ve had enough of this,” Miles snaps. “There’s a dead body on the floor, and no one has told us what the hell is going on. Why are you both here? Why are you in such ridiculous outfits?”

“We’re here to clean up your mess,” Tatum says matter-of-factly, pulling a pair of rubber gloves from his jockstrap and snapping them on. He must have just snapped them too hard against his wrist, because his eyes well with tears, and his jaw’s trembling like he’s about to cry. He pushes past the pain, walking into the hallway and returning with a duffle bag. Unzipping the bag, he pulls out a massive roll of plastic tarp and unfolds it across the floor. “I’m not very strong, so I’m going to need a little help.” He points at Miles, then twirls his hand around and crooks his finger, motioning me to join him. “You break it, you bag it, and I’m pretty sure you broke his skull wide open. Meadows is already firing up the incinerator at the agency. We just need to get the bodies there without getting pulled over by the police.”

“I’m pretty sure you just jinxed us,” Scotty says. “Rude.”

Once it’s done, it takes Miles, Tatum, and me to haul the body downstairs. Once we carry him to the garage, we return to the foyer and begin work on the Pastor Collins. Sure enough, there are bits of his brain matter littering the floor.

As Tatum and I unroll the tarp, Miles kneels beside the deceased pastor and places his hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers before looking up for me. I think reality is finally hitting him, because his eyes are a little wet. “I killed two men today.”

I shake my head. “Mom killed him. I’m pretty sure she shoved him down the stairs. You were just protecting me with Dad. Baby, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Guilt still masks his face, but he gives me a nod anyway. He reaches into the man’s back pocket and pulls out his wallet.

“Oh, good Lord,” I groan. “I just absolved you of the sin of murder, and now you’re robbing a corpse?”

Miles snorts a soft laugh and opens the wallet. “Pastor Trevor Collins.” He turns to me. “They’re going to cremate him too?”

I nod. “Probably.”

“What about his family? Will Meadows tell them? Are they just going to think he abandoned them?”

I shrug. “I’m not sure how Meadows usually handles workplace casualties. I guess there’s no better time to find out.” I lean down and kiss his forehead. “Roll him up, and we’ll take over. I need you to back your truck up to the garage so we can load them up.”

He takes my hand, and I help him up. Chest to chest, he smiles down at me and cups my cheek. “I love you.”

My heart flutters, because I don’t think I’ll ever get used to hearing those words coming from him. “I love you too.”

chapter twenty

The ride to the agency is spent mostly in reflective silence. Miles is driving, and I’m riding shotgun. Behind us, my mother and Mal are holding hands, Mal constantly assuring her thateverything is still okay. Can everything still be okay when our family’s patriarch is slowly decomposing in the bed of Miles’ truck? Tatum and Scotty are back there with my father and the late Pastor Collins, lying down underneath the truck’s bed cover for some dumbass reason. There’s more than enough space in the back seat. Truth be told, I’m pretty sure Scotty just wants to go through their wallets, and Tatum doesn’t want his biffle (whatever that means) to be back there alone. Sure, they could have simply driven their car to the agency instead, but where’s the fun in that? That was Scotty’s reasoning, at least. Stupid reasoning, but reasoning nonetheless.

I’ve got my hand resting on Miles’ center console. Miles usually just rests his hand beside mine, pinkie brushing the side of my hand to remind me that Father Daddy is there. Today, he’s gripping the steering wheel at ten and two like if he takes his hands off the wheel, we’ll all crash and die and be sent straight to Hell.

Around halfway to the agency, Miles’ hand slips into mine, and he gives it a squeeze. I look over at him, my heart heavy with emotion. I open my mouth to thank him, silenced when a siren sounds behind us.

Miles’ entire body stiffens, and my mom wails in the back seat.

“Oh for the love of—we do not have time to fall apart right now,” Mal says to my mom and Miles. “Miles, pull over. JoyAnna, I need you to put a pin in your emotional breakdown. Darren, catch chlamydia.”

I gape at her. “My father just died.”

She shrugs. “What is it the twink in the truck bed keeps saying? Too bad, so sad?” I roll my eyes and face ahead, but she reaches forward and squeezes my shoulder. “I’m only joking,” she whispers. “Just trying to lift your spirits a little.”

I don’t know who this new Mallory Brooks is, but I think I prefer the version of her I’ve hated for years. At least then, Iknew where I stood. Now, I have no idea. “Gonna fuck your husband. Gonna steal him from you.”

She snorts a laugh. “I don’t understand this homewrecker kink you’ve got going on, but I’m not a fan of it. As I’ve said—multiple times—you can’t steal what’s already been thrown away.”

“Gonna throwyouaway,” I mutter under my breath. “Maybe I’ll throw you into the incinerator with—”

There’s a knock on the window, and when I look over, one of our congregants, Officer Sparks, is smiling widely at us. He's a handsome man with quite the delightful bubble butt. I may have stared at it a time or two. My dad caught me each time, and, strangely enough, he seemed to take even more offense to the fact that I was lusting over a Black man than he did to my coming out as gay. I guess homophobia takes a back seat when race comes into play. Fucking bigot.

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