Mann of My Dreams Book 6: The Best-Laid Plans

Best Laid Plans Copyright © 2015 Tinnean All rights reserved WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000! REMEMBER: This book is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places, is purely coincidental. PLEASE BE ADVISED: This book contains material that is only suitable for mature readers. It contains scenes of a s****l nature between two or more consenting men. Dedication: This is for Bob, because… Bob. It will always be for him. This is also for my son Bobby, who allowed me to pick his brains regarding all things funeral, and for calling to tell me stories of men practicing karate in the men’s room. And for my son Joey, in memory of his beloved husky, who he lost in 2015. And most of all, to Tony, his daughter Cindy, his sons Tony and JoeBoy, and friends Cappy and Joe for the inspiration behind Best Laid Plans. Acknowledgment: A huge thank you goes to Gail Morse for fifteen years of being there. Her help made sure this story stayed on the straight (*cough* no pun) and narrow. Thanks also to Tisha, to Liz Bichmann, my wonderful editor, and to Jeff Adkins for the formatting and the consistently gratifying covers. And now… I hope you enjoy these novellas. Part 1 – Enter Love Chapter 1 – Enter Tad IT WAS GETTING late. The streetlights had come on, and the rush hour traffic was thinning. Thaddeus “Tad” Jackson II hurried down the street, his younger sister trotting along beside him, trying to keep up. He winced as the suitcase she was carrying banged into his knee. “I’m scared, Tad.” Her grip on his hand tightened. “There’s no need to be.” He was the big brother, and he couldn’t let her see how nervous he was. “Everything will be fine, I promise.” “Does your face hurt?” “It’s not too bad.” It was throbbing so hard he wanted to find somewhere to curl up and die, but he couldn’t tell her that. He brought them to a standstill just outside a white picket fence. “Here we are.” At the end of the walk was their father’s house, a boxy little bungalow with boxy little rooms that Daddy said was fine for a bachelor. Momma didn’t think so, though. The house they’d had when they’d all lived together had been roomy and airy, two stories and an attic, and he sometimes thought Momma regretted having to leave that house more than leaving Daddy. “Suppose Daddy doesn’t want us?” Becca’s nails were digging into the back of his hand. Tad swallowed. “He has to want us, Becca. We’re his kids.” “But Daddy is Grandpa Eleazar’s kid, and Grandpa doesn’t want him.” Becca was right—Grandpa had no use for homosexuals, and if his son was one, that meant he had no use for him. “It’ll be okay.” It had to be. “Suppose he isn’t home? Suppose he’s at… at Mr. Tom’s house?” All the way there Tad had worried that their father might be at his… his friend’s house. They were never allowed to mention Mr. Tom. Not only was he gay, but he was Jewish as well, and Momma said he was leading Daddy straight to hell. Tad’s knees had gone weak when he and Becca had rounded the corner and saw the truck in the driveway, and he realized he’d worried for nothing. “The lights are on, silly.” He gave a weak laugh. “He’s home. C’mon.” He opened the gate and led her up the sidewalk, and then they climbed the shallow steps to the veranda. He dried his suddenly sweaty palm on his denim-covered thigh, then jabbed the doorbell. The chimes were the sweet tones of “Dixie,” and he offered his sister a smile. “Daddy’s favorite song.” She just looked scared. “Tad, do I look all right?” He set down his suitcase and smoothed her hair, which was even fairer than his. “You look great, Becca.” He ran a hand through his own blond hair and hoped his sister wouldn’t pick up on his nervousness. The door swung open, and they stared at the man who answered the door. He stood about five foot eight. He had pale blond hair and blue eyes. He wasn’t their father. “Mr. Tom.” At fifteen, Tad was already as tall as this man. “Thaddeus, Rebecca.” Tad saw Mr. Tom’s gaze go to the suitcases, and he was afraid the man who his Grandpa Eleazar called a son of Satan was going to shut the door in their faces. Mr. Tom narrowed his eyes as he studied Tad’s face, and he raised a hand as if to touch Tad’s cheek, but then let it drop. “Don’t just stand there. Come in. Jack.” “Yeah, Tom? Who is it? It’s too late for the Girl Scouts to be selling cookies.” “It’s better than cookies.” Tad blew out a silent sigh of relief. Jack Jackson and Tom Weber had been best friends since they were in high school. And in spite of what Grandpa Eleazar said, he’d been sure his daddy wouldn’t like someone who was a bad man. Well, he’d been pretty sure. Besides, he’d heard Momma tell Daddy one time in a really funny voice that Mr. Tom brought out the best in him. “It’s just a crying shame that man is a fag.” Momma hadn’t noticed that Daddy’s face turned red, but Tad had. He’d been really young then, and hadn’t known what a “fag” was. Afterward he’d asked his father. Daddy had sighed, brushed back his hair, and said, “That’s a not nice word for men who fall in love with other men and want to marry them. And I really don’t want to hear you using it.” “Okay, Daddy.” “Thaddeus David Jackson!” Momma never used Daddy’s full name unless he’d done something she didn’t approve of, and it seemed she really disapproved of Daddy explaining what a fag was—her face had turned even redder than Daddy’s. “What are you telling my son? Tadboy, you go keep an eye on your sister until I call you for dinner.” Tad had gone out on to the veranda, where Becca had been leafing through a picture book version of Black Beauty, wondering what was so awful about two people loving each other. Of course he’d eventually learned it wasn’t that they loved each other but that they were the same s*x. And that was just sad. He pushed those thoughts out of his mind. Mr. Tom was grinning at Daddy. “We have visitors, Jack.” “Becca! Tad!” “Please let us stay with you!” Becca burst into tears and threw herself into their father’s arms. “Please, Daddy! Please!” “Hey, hey. What’s this all about? Tad? How did you both get here?” “We walked. We… we couldn’t stay there anymore.” Tad met his father’s eyes, the same deep blue as his own, and when he frowned, Tad felt the butterflies in his stomach turn into vultures. “What happened to your face, son?” His father held out his other arm and pulled him into his embrace. Tad buried his face against his father’s shoulder. He smelled of Life Buoy, the soap he’d always showered with, and for the first time, Tad felt safe. “Grandpa Eleazar got mad at Tad when he back-talked him.” “You talked back to your grandpa, Thaddeus?” “I… I couldn’t stand it, Daddy. He was saying such horrible things about you, and I—” “That’s Grandpa, Tad.” Daddy sighed and shook his head. “What did your momma have to say about him hitting you?” When they’d all lived together—before Momma had said Daddy needed to find Jesus and when he hadn’t, decided she didn’t want him around anymore—it had been a rule in their house that only they could hit either him or his sister. Even then it was nothing more than a swat on their backsides, because usually it only took a stern look from their daddy to make them behave. Tad’s face twisted. “Momma just got that look on her face and said she was going to her room to pray for me….” In spite of the fact that he was fifteen, Tad held on to his father as tight as he could. “Son of a b***h!” his father growled. “It’s all right, son. It’s all right. Tom, would you mind….” “I’ll leave you to get this sorted out and make some hot chocolate.” “Thanks, babe.” Tad saw the look they shared, and he realized there was more to their friendship than years of knowing each other. “Are… are you going to make us go back there?” Becca sniffled, and their father dug in his pocket for a handkerchief. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome, peanut. I’m going to call your momma to let her know you’re spending the night here. In the morning I’ll have a talk with her and your grandpa.” Tad sagged in relief. “Now let’s go get you two settled in.” Their father took Becca’s suitcase, and Tad took his own. This was a small house, originally two bedrooms, but Momma had pitched a hissy fit at the thought that he and Becca might share a room, even with bunk beds. Since Daddy was in construction and knew how to do stuff like that, he’d torn down one wall and put up another, and he’d made the bigger bedroom—his bedroom—into two separate ones. Tad could hear the murmur of low voices from the other room and hoped Becca didn’t tell Daddy too much. He was starting to not like Grandpa Eleazar very much, but the man was Daddy’s daddy, and Tad didn’t want to make trouble between them. He hurried with his unpacking and put his lucky seashell on the nightstand next to the twin bed. It was a small knobbed whelk, Georgia’s state seashell, which he’d had since the last time they’d gone to the beach as a family. It had been a beautiful day, sunny, with a balmy breeze, and a few white clouds dotting the sky. Momma stayed on the beach, laying out the lunch of sandwiches she’d brought on a blanket. Daddy had gone into the ocean with Tad and Becca. He’d tossed them into the waves, and they’d howled and screamed with laughter. That was when the waves washed up the shell, and Tad had taken possession of it. Finally, they’d gone back to where Momma was knitting a baby blanket for one of the young women in Grandpa Eleazar’s parish who was pregnant without a husband, although none of the kids was supposed to know anything about that. After they’d finished lunch, it had been time to pack up and go home, and on the drive they’d sung silly songs. He could tell Momma didn’t like them, and she’d have put a stop to it, but Daddy had said, “They’re harmless, Reba. Let them sing.” Tad looked at the shell ruefully and gave it a little push. I guess it really wasn’t very lucky. A few months later Daddy had moved out. Well, there was no point thinking about that over and over. He tried to look casual as he entered his sister’s bedroom. Becca was busy putting the few clothes she’d hurriedly packed into the dresser Daddy had made especially for her. There was a matching one in Tad’s room. “I’m done unpacking, Daddy.” “All right, Becca. Why don’t we go see if the hot chocolate is ready?” They walked into the living room to find Mr. Tom already there. “Here we go,” he said, holding up a tray and smiling at them. “Swiss Miss all around.” *** “WHAT DO YOU think will happen, Mr. Tom?” Tad and Mr. Tom had brought the empty mugs to the kitchen, passing his father’s bedroom. Daddy had gone to make that phone call, and though the door was closed, Tad could hear his voice was raised in something almost like fury. He shivered, glad Becca couldn’t hear. His sister was still in the living room watching a documentary on Animal Planet. He’d have watched the music videos on MTV. One of the reasons they liked coming to their father’s house was that he had cable TV, which Grandpa Eleazar called the work of the devil and refused to have in his house.