Poison Heart (Gay Fiction)

By Trina Solet

Vince and Cal were poor but happy until Cal made a big mistake. Now Cal is in jail, and Vince is determined to get him out. Roland Granger has the power to make that happen. All he wants in return is Vince. Vince is willing to sacrifice himself, but can he get Cal to accept this unwanted help? And while he is trying to set things right in his own life, can Vince reunite Roland with his true love?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trina Solet
• Release date: May 6, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311615299

Book preview

Part I

Fall

Chapter 1

Quin had built up his body beautifully. Soon after they met, he showed Brent pictures of himself as a skinny teenager who got picked on one too many times. No one in their right mind would mess with him now.

Vince was glad that his grandmother could have one of the last pleasant days of autumn for her funeral. The treetops were still vibrant with yellow and orange leaves. The air was cooling off, but the sun was out long enough to shine down on her modest casket.

At nineteen, Vince stood tall but didn't fill out the borrowed suit he wore. His muscles were defined but not bulging, though he couldn't quite feel their power at the moment. All his strength seemed to be draining into the ground under his feet. The few other mourners were gone now. Only Vince remained to say his last goodbye. He stood with his hazel eyes closed, smelling the freshly dug earth that now cradled his beloved grandmother. If Cal was standing next to him, he would take his hand or put an arm around his shoulders. Vince willed himself to feel the pressure of that familiar hand and the strong arms encircling him. He pictured Cal's dark eyes looking into his, giving him the love and support he needed. When he visited him, Vince would tell him, I wasn't alone. You were there with me. You comforted me.

Vince opened his eyes to rows of old graves and one new one. Today there was no warm hand or a tight embrace for Vince, only a wind that chilled him. It was almost as if the sun had come out only to shine for Vince's grandmother one last time, and it was now giving way to the coming season. Days were getting colder as the world was draining of color. It was unthinkable that Cal would be spending the coming winter in prison. Cal's place was next to Vince. They lived one life. It was that way since they met. The two of them had grown to manhood together. With the passing of years, they saw each other mature and get taller, stronger, more masculine. Each change primed their desire and drew them closer together. Going from inseparable to intertwined, they were one. Even now as walls, bars and men with guns separated them, they were one. They were together only in their hearts though. They couldn't touch or love one another the way they used to. All because Cal had seen a golden opportunity that he couldn't pass up.

Because of that one mistake, Vince now stood alone in a graveyard as the clouds covered the sun. Without the sun to warm it, the air felt heavy with cold and damp. It was really the day that was weighing on Vince. The last of his family was gone, and Vince couldn't even throw himself into Cal's arms for comfort.

His last goodbye said, Vince was on his way to Burghers Penitentiary. Even if he wouldn't be allowed to feel Cal's steely arms around him or even touch his hand, Vince had to see him. First he got on the bus then walked the rest of the way. He didn't want to stand and wait for the second bus that would take him to Burghers, where Cal was being held until his trial.

As he walked toward the prison along the side of a two-lane road, Vince still wore his funeral suit. The suit was borrowed. Millie, his grandmother's friend, had picked it out for him. It had belonged to Millie's late son. It was old, and it smelled funny and didn't fit right. At a funeral or at a prison, that didn't matter.

Today was the first time Vince had ever worn a suit. He hadn't worn one to his grandfather's funeral. That old man didn't deserve it, but his grandmother did. Vince stood by her grave not just as her grandson but as the representative of their whole family. They were all gone except for Vince. He said goodbye to her for all of them.

The road next to Vince only led to Burghers so not many cars passed him. To go from the cemetery to the prison was to travel from death to fear. His grandmother's resting place was quiet. Crows could be heard in the distance, but they were like the wind. They couldn't disturb that place of final rest. The branches were rustling with dry leaves ready to drop off and leave them bare. The cemetery was a place of endless sleep, forgetting, and letting go of pain.

Burghers stood in contrast to it. Where the cemetery had been cool and empty, the prison was a furnace overheating with everything the dead were glad to leave behind. To come within these walls was a dreadful, sad experience for Vince, but whatever he felt wasn't even a taste of what it was like for Cal. The indignities briefly suffered by Vince were Cal's daily existence. The walls, the bars, the locks, the guards, the men with sullen faces and mean eyes, they made up Cal's world. If he was convicted, it would be his world for a long time.

Coming together in the prison visiting room were mismatched pairs of prisoners and their visitors. Vince could see forced smiles, worried eyes and then he saw Cal. It took every last shred of his self-control not to call his name and pour out his heart to him. Forcing himself to hold back everything he felt, Vince gave Cal a small smile, not forced, but weak like a light that flickers before it dies. Vince saw that Cal had to exert incredible self-control to maintain a cold and tough demeanor.

The glass was between them, cutting them off from one another. They could only hear each other through the phone. Sitting across from Cal, Vince drank in the sight of his dark eyes filled with compassion.

I wish I could have been there, Cal said with regret. His voice was low but a welcome and soothing sound to Vince.

I know, Vince told him. He could see how much Cal wanted to reach out to him and help him through his grief.

She's at peace. Vince wasn't just saying that. His grandmother had died in her sleep, just drifted away after a difficult life and illness. Vince didn't need to worry about her any more. Now his whole existence was consumed with only one goal. He had to get Cal out of prison no matter what it took. He had to be with him again.

***

When Vince met him five years ago, Cal had been a watchful, tightlipped boy, dark-eyed and beautiful. He wasn't as tall as Vince, but he was more powerfully built. He acted tough because he thought he had to, but inside, he and Vince were the same, and they knew it as soon as they met.

Vince felt like his life started the moment he met Cal. That very second, he was born and he became who he was. They were fourteen, and Vince watched Cal stacking plastic crates so he could climb into a dumpster behind All Electronics For Less. If Vince was telling his life's story, he would start on that day in early summer. The buildings wrapped the alley in cool shadow. Behind Vince, the noise of traffic couldn't drown out the sounds of birds chirping in the trees that sprang out of the sidewalk. At first Vince was curious and wanted to know what the boy was doing. Then he just wanted to watch him. When Cal turned around and noticed him, his fate was sealed, both their fates.

First Cal made fun of him for the way he sneezed and for having uncool clothes. Vince couldn't see that his clothes were all that different from Cal's. Vince had on a striped blue and white shirt and khaki pants. Cal wore jeans and a red t-shirt with a black motorcycle on the front.

He had finished stacking the crates and tried to climb them. When the crates weren't strong enough to take his weight, Vince jumped forward and made sure he didn't fall. Vince saw a flicker of a smile on Cal's face as he leaned heavily on his shoulders. Before Cal turned away, Vince was sure that he blushed. Maybe both of them did.

I'm Cal, he said without turning to face him. Vince would learn his full name later – Calvin Duval.

Vince gave his full name right away, like he wanted Cal to be able to find him.

Vincent Blaga.

Vince, give me a boost, Cal said.

Vince laced his fingers together, and Cal stepped up on them then on his shoulders and into the dumpster.

How come you're doing this? Vince asked him as he watched him lower some things from inside the dumpster before he climbed back out.

Maybe I just have no pride.

Don't believe that, Vince said. He could see that he did have pride. In fact his eyes dared anyone to disrespect him if they were willing to pay dearly. He was a boy who had plenty of pride and would fight to defend it. Vince already admired him for that and for other reasons.

Admitting that Vince was right about him, Cal told him why he was dumpster-diving for broken down electronics. He needed to make money.

Last winter I asked my old man for some cash to buy new sneakers. The sole peeled off from one of my old ones. I glued it back, but it wouldn't stay. My old man told me, 'I work for my money. If you want to beg, do it on the street. I ain't giving nothing away.' Cal shrugged. I had to get new shoes so I figured out how to make a little money. That's all.

Cal acted like it was no big deal, but Vince knew better. Even though Vince didn't have a father, he was sure that they weren't all like that. He did wonder if a father like Cal's was still better than no father at all.

Seeing that he was lost in thought, Cal clapped him on the back.

Wake up and help me carry this stuff, he said.

Vince was glad to do it. He would have gone along even if he hadn't been asked. For some reason that was still new and unknown to him, he never wanted to leave this boy's side.

***

Sitting across from Cal in the prison visiting room was the same Vince he had always known, but now his eyes were worn with worry for Cal and grief over his grandmother's death. Cal tightened his fists in frustration. Vince needed him. He was only inches away, so close but hopelessly out of reach. Instead of being a comfort to him, Cal was only another source of pain. Even if Vince didn't blame him, Cal would never forgive himself for that. From the moment he met Vince, Cal knew they were meant to be together, at first just as friends and then as so much more. But he got greedy. Along the way, Cal forgot that the most important thing was to never let anything separate him from Vince. He had known it instinctively as a boy. It was written in Vince's eyes. Cal looked into them and read the words Keep me by your side forever.

For Cal, the day they met was just another day in another dirty alley with a big dumpster. Places like that were a magnet for trouble so Cal kept his ears open for sounds that would warn him that someone was coming. He heard footsteps. When Cal turned, he saw a boy his own age looking at him with an open expression on his face and no hesitation in his eyes. A smile lingered just out of sight, held back and waiting for something to bring it out. At first, the boy stood out of reach but approached as soon as Cal called him over. The boy was taller than him and too good looking for a guy. Cal could tell this even though the boy had a funny look on his face. The boy sneezed and Cal laughed.

You laugh at people when they sneeze?

You looked goofy, man. And who dressed you, your mom? Cal said to him.

My grandma, the boy said, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

Don't tell people that. At least have the sense to be ashamed of the way you look, Cal told him.

The boy in the striped shirt finally gave him that smile he had been holding back.

Though Cal made fun of him, there was nothing wrong with the way he looked. There was even too much right about it. Mellow, teasing, hazel eyes looked at Cal, reached right through to his heart. His light brown hair was just asking to be touched and tugged. Broad shoulders made the striped shirt hang from his slim body. But that body was still growing, getting stronger and would soon be irresistible to Cal.

You sure you want to go in there? he said as he watched Cal test out the stack of crates. They weren't stable, but if he was quick they might hold him up.

It's not like it's full of dirty diapers, Cal told him. The dumpster wasn't as bad as some, but there was something in every dumpster to make it stink.

When the crates collapsed under him, Vince caught him. It was a strange moment, the first time someone's touch had melted Cal's bones. With that feeling coursing through him, Cal had to look away from those pretty eyes and that smiling mouth. Something was happening to him, and all he could think to do was climb into a dumpster. He did it with Vince's help, stepping first on his hands then on his shoulders.

As Cal looked over what he found and threw some of it back, he told Vince about the value in it.

There's this old guy, Peterson, who has the basement apartment in my building. He does repairs. His place is full of broken down junk people throw out. If he gets something working again, he sells it. When I bring him stuff he thinks he can use, he gives me a couple of bucks, Cal explained.

To make money, Cal had also mowed lawns in his Aunt Ginny's neighborhood in the summer, raked leaves and cleaned out gutters in the fall. He searched out every opportunity. Making what little money he could was becoming almost an obsession.

On that day, money was shoved into second place. Cal's first priority was to keep the boy he had just met from walking away. Though Cal could have managed by himself, he asked Vince to help him carry the stuff he had scavenged. Vince smiled and made Cal feel funny again. He couldn't remember anyone ever making him feel so strong and weak, focused and mixed up at the same time.

There was a sign by the steps leading down to Mr. Peterson's basement apartment that just said Repairs. His door always stood open during the day. Old man Peterson sat at a workbench wearing glasses that had magnifying lenses built into them. A regular set of eyeglasses were perched on his head. He switched to those and nodded as he looked through what Cal had brought him. He paid Cal and told him what kinds of things to keep an eye out for.

Outside, Cal offered Vince some of the little money that he got from the old man, but he refused. That was Vince. He never wanted to take anything away from Cal. That's why Cal wanted to give him everything. That's why he ended up in prison.

Chapter 2

Vince felt no relief on leaving Burghers. No matter how much distance he put between him and that place, he wouldn't be free of it as long as Cal was in there. Visiting days weren't enough. Vince had never been away from Cal for so long. Their jobs after high school kept them apart during the day, but the rest of the time they stuck close to each other. Even when Vince was busy working and taking care of his grandmother as her health declined, he and Cal made sure to see each other every day. That's how Vince knew that something bad happened on the day Cal was arrested.

Vince remembered the terrible moment when he first found out. He went looking for Cal when he didn't show up at their usual place. There was no call or text from Cal, and he didn't answer his phone. Vince felt his blood run cold as time passed with no word.

Standing on the doorstep of the house where Cal lived with his aunt, Ginny, Vince was afraid to knock. Then as soon as he walked in, Cal's aunt started screaming at him. She was crying, accusing Vince of getting Cal mixed up in something, telling him Cal was on the news.

Even as she turned on the TV and he watched the news, Vince couldn't believe it. Feeling numb, he stood there and said, It's a mistake.

That's a mistake big enough to swallow a man whole, Ginny said while she hugged herself and tried not to cry again.

Vince was dazed. He couldn't make sense of it. He put the pieces together one by one, some from the news, some from Ginny. But he was still missing one piece of the puzzle. Why would Cal do this?

Though Cal chased after every opportunity to earn money, he never went for the easy way to get it. After digging through dumpsters for a few bucks profit, why would he be stealing cars now that he had a real job?

When he looked at Cal, Vince could always see the scars of his mother leaving, then his sister, and his father only tolerating him. Both he and Cal had lost people, been abandoned, mistreated, or neglected, but once they found each other, Vince thought that they were complete again. But if that was true, why did Cal risk everything?

The first time he visited Cal, Vince found out the truth. Maybe Vince suspected the answer all along, but he could only believe it once he was face to face with Cal in that terrible place. The visiting room was stark with a line of booths, chairs and guards standing by. The air had a disinfected, stale quality but with a chilling undertone like fear had concentrated there and absorbed into every surface. Speaking to Cal through a phone in his hand, seeing him through glass, Vince was feeling the first pain of their separation.

Why did you need the money so bad? Vince asked while fear knotted up his belly, adding to the atmosphere already thick with it.

Because it's money. What other reason do I need? Cal said. You know I've always been money-hungry.

The lie was so transparent, Vince could see right through it to the truth.

You're lying, Vince told him. And that can mean only one thing. If you're lying to me...

Look, Vince... Cal said trying to interrupt his train of thought, but it was too late.

You wanted the money for me, Vince said, feeling like he might cry. The only reason Cal would lie to him was to protect him, and the only reason he would take that kind of risk was for Vince. Cal was sitting in jail because of him. Vince reached out and touched the glass with his fingertips. Cal didn't dare to do the same. That reminded Vince that he had to be careful not to out him. He withdrew his hand quickly for Cal's sake.

***

From the moment he was arrested, Cal tried to stay strong, but his worst moment was when Vince first came to see him in jail. With Vince on the other side of that glass, Cal realized it would be a very long time before he would be able to touch him again. When Vince touched the glass, it was painful not to be able to reach out his hand. The worst of it was the pain in Vince's beautiful eyes. Cal had put that pain there. Seeing Vince in a place like that was all wrong. Cal had made a bad choice. Maybe he belonged there, but Vince didn't. He didn't deserve the burden of knowing why Cal had turned himself into a criminal.

Trying to keep the truth from Vince had been hopeless from the start. Cal knew that he couldn't fool him, but he had to try. He didn't want to tell him it was for him, but of course it was for Vince. Cal would do anything for him. That didn't make it Vince's fault. But as Vince realized the truth, Cal could see him taking on the guilt, making Cal's crime his own.

Vince didn't know anything about the plans Cal was making for him. After graduating high school, Vince and Cal both got jobs. Vince was busy taking care of his sick grandmother too, but they spent time together whenever they could. He and Vince had so little, but they had each other. Then Cal got it into his head that Vince should go to college, and that Cal should pay for it by stealing cars for JD Simms and his bunch.

Cal didn't have the skills, but he was learning. The classic Jag in the supermarket parking lot would have been Cal's first solo boost. It wasn't planned. On that day, Cal saw a chance to grab a car the easy way. He saw the keys still in the car, dropped on the driver's seat. The car door was open as some woman walked away from it to find better reception for her phone. Cal jumped at the chance. He got a lucky break, and he took off in her car. Then his good luck turned into bad luck as he heard a kid start to cry behind him. Strapped into a child's car seat was a little boy. Without thinking, Cal drove right back. The woman was screaming. People had gathered. Cal didn't make it out of there before the cops showed up and shoved him to the ground, almost cracking his head open.

After that, the cops weren't too rough with Cal. They mostly just shook their heads at how stupid he was. For the same reason, they didn't push him about who he was working for. What saved him was the way he had tried to steal a car with keys in it and then came back to the scene of the crime. That told the cops that he was dumb as shit and a rank amateur, not one of JD Simms' crew.

At the time of his arrest, Cal was still apprenticing with Eddie Machado. Until he learned the ropes, Cal was just a lookout for Eddie. He was the only one Cal dealt with. They both worked for JD Simms, but to Cal, that was just a name. He didn't know anything about JD Simms' operation or how things worked. That turned out to be a good thing. When Cal was arrested, he didn't know enough to worry anyone except Eddie. Cal was smart enough to keep his mouth shut about what little he knew, but Eddie made himself scarce anyway.

Cal's cut from his work with Eddie didn't come to much. There was supposed to be a lot more when Cal started boosting on his own. Now there wouldn't be any more. The little money he had saved up for Vince had to be used to pay for his defense. It wasn't even close to enough. He still told Vince about it using their code.

***

During his prison visit, Cal had used the codeword for a hiding place they had agreed on.

I wish I could get a real lawyer but can't pay the piper, Cal had said. That was their code for the first stash spot. Then Cal said, Expenses keep adding up. He tapped his finger only twice. From that, Vince could tell that Cal had hidden money at the first stash spot and the next two only.

Vince had to wait till nightfall to get to the money. For now, he thought about what he could do to make his grandmother's grave a little nicer. That's why he was in Lawson's Garden Center. It was right near Millie's house, where Vince was still living. Lawson's didn't offer many choices, but it was in the neighborhood. On first look, Vince could tell that the garden center wasn't well stocked or well maintained. Vince was pretty sure that some of the plants still outside were tropical and should be taken indoors. Not that Vince was an expert on plants. He had only helped Millie in her garden a little. It didn't take an expert to judge the sad state of the place. Too many plants were wilting and one or two were well past dead. Some of the sickly plants could still be saved if they were taken care of.

While he was looking for a plant that didn't look half-dead, Vince considered what he needed to do for Cal. Thinking angrily about the money that had landed Cal in jail, Vince absently snapped a twig off a dead plant. He looked up guiltily. Standing behind the register, watching him, was an older man, Vince wanted to say gentleman. He seemed old-fashioned but not stiff. He had white hair and kind, blue eyes. When he looked at Vince, a wry smile tugged at the corner's of his mouth.

I want something alive that will stay that way, Vince said when the man offered to help him.

The man turned out to be one of the Lawsons. He owned the nursery with his sister. Trying to help Vince, he looked around like it was his first day on the job. Finally, he pointed to a little shrub in a pot.

That one has been around here forever, and it's still going strong. Five bucks, and it's yours, he offered.

Vince got down for a closer look. The plant was healthy, had a nice shape, and pretty, narrow leaves, turning yellow.

What kind of plant is it? he asked, not seeing a label.

Whatever it says on there, Mr. Lawson told him.

It doesn't say anything, Vince pointed out.

A mystery, Mr. Lawson said helplessly.

Vince decided to take it anyway. As he paid, he thought about Cal's money.

Can I ask you, do lawyers take cash? Vince asked on an impulse. Mr. Lawson might not know much about plants, but he seemed like someone who knew how things worked in the world.

Everyone takes cash, Mr. Lawson said as he took the five bucks and change from Vince and tucked it into the register drawer.

It was what Vince wanted to hear, but he was skeptical.

Without asking where it came from? Vince said.

Why do you ask? Mr. Lawson wondered as he looked at Vince kindly.

My friend needs a lawyer. Did you hear about that car thief who drove off with that kid in the back then came back and got caught? That's him.

Oh, my, was all Mr. Lawson said at first. Then he thought about it. Hmm. I know someone. He'll want your friend's case for the notoriety and for the cash. He is good in his own way, and much better than a public defender. After looking at an old fashioned, little black book, he wrote down the name and phone number for Vince.

Thank you, Vince said.

Anything for a customer. Good luck, young man, Mr. Lawson said to Vince as he carried out the potted plant.

That night Vince found himself standing in front of Cal's old apartment building. Only eight floors, the building was dilapidated but solid. On the curb, someone had abandoned a couch with ripped cushions. It served as a perfect accessory to the building. Even darkness couldn't hide its rundown state. That's where Cal used to live with his dad before he moved in with his aunt, Ginny. Vince looked at the ugly, old building fondly. He and Cal had spend too many happy hours there for Vince not to love the sight of it. They could get a lot of sucking and fucking done before Cal's dad got home from work.

Vince went around to the back. Looking up, it was strange to feel so much joy and pain well up inside him at the sight of that dark window on the sixth floor. Other windows had lights on, but not that one. Cal's bedroom came back to Vince with its plain white walls and its scent of Cal's unwashed clothes piling up in the corner. His bed was always unmade. The pillow had no pillowcase. The thin, cheap mattress shifted under their combined weights as they rushed to make love, not just because they didn't have time, but because they couldn't wait to have each other. With pants around their ankles, their bodies moved in a savage rhythm, grunting, sweating, and clutching at each other. Even after coming, they were inexhaustible. They would be going at it again like fucking was something that could never be finished. Inside each other, or sucking each other off, taking and giving, crazy about each other, they could never get enough. How could one small room contain so many memories and so much love? Vince felt like their younger selves were still up there. He could hear them laughing, grunting and coming over and over again. Vince was sure that if he crept up there, he wouldn't see new occupants, but him and Cal, half dressed, holding each other in a narrow, messy bed.