Page 55 of Haunted

“I was in high school. Sixteen and wedged in that closet because coming out?Tellinganyone? Hell no. I saw what happened toanyonewho gave off the slightest queer vibe.”

Toby sighed. “You’re right. Itwaseasier for my generation, especially in California. There were still kids who could be real assholes, though.”

Sol took another drink. “It might surprise you to learn I was one of the assholes.”

Toby stared at him. “Seriously?”

Sol nodded, then shivered. “I’m not proud of some of the things I did back then.”

“What kind of things?” Robert’s voice was quiet.

Sol swirled the dark liquid. “You know how these days we say a homophobe is probably just a guy who’s too scared to confront what’s lurking in his own closet? That bullies home in on stuff they see in themselves?”

Robert and Toby said nothing, and Sol’s shivers multiplied.

“I picked on kids who seemed like they were queer. I wasn’t the only one doing it—there was a bunch of us. All you had to do was scratch the dirt and up popped a bully. And I felt like shit doing it because I knew deep down I was gay.”

“Better to be on the attack than on defense?” Robert suggested.

“You know it. And I couldn’t tell anyone so I took out all my fears, my anger, my frustration, you name it, on kids that were too scared to fight back or tell me to shove it.” He raised his chin. “Like I said, I’m not proud of how I was, all the shit I pulled. Thank God I grew out of that and became a human being.”

“Is that why you went into counseling?” Toby asked. “As a kind of penance?”

“Yeah, but mostly it was to help people understand stuff they’re going through.”

“Let’s get back to your story.” Robert gazed at him. “So there you were, sixteen, in the closet... How did you first have an inkling you were gay?”

Toby grinned again. “I got it. You had the hots for the captain of the football team.”

Sol managed a wry chuckle. “I was never into jocks.” His heart beat faster. “No, I was secretly lusting after a tall drink of water called Brian Buchanan.”

“Buchanan?” Toby laughed. “Oh my God.” He turned to Robert. “Didn’t you say once that Butch came from Wyoming? They could be related.” He inclined his head toward the ranch below. “You met Butch earlier. Our bunkhouse foreman.”

Here we go.

“Yeah, I did, didn’t I?”

“So what was this Brian like? Apart from being a tall drink of water.”

Sol rolled his glass between his palms. “He never knew I was interested, that’s for damn sure. I knew better than to let anyone see that. Unless Iwantedto be beaten to a pulp.”

“He wouldn’t have done that, would he?”

Sol shook his head. “He dealt all his blows with his tongue, not his fists. In that respect, we were a lot alike. But no one called him Brian. He hated that name, so we all called him by his nickname—Butch.” He didn’t break eye contact.

Crickets.

Toby and Robert stared at him, openmouthed.

“No. Fucking.Way,” Toby said at last.

“OurButch?”

Sol nodded.

“But…” Toby frowned. “I was there. He… he acted like you’d just met for the first time. And you didn’t say a word.”

“That was because he was looking at me like he didn’t know who I was. I wasn’t about to make a scene.”

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