“He did, but Tilroy warn’t even with them when they walked into town. It was Cleo, Donnie, and Wiltry. With me followin them.”
“Who are they?”
“Football friends.”
“Where was Tilroy?”
“Tilroy was visitin Mr. Paul when them three went by an saw him an Mr. Paul sittin in Miss Janey’s waitin room. Place was closed, but Tilroy was there, sittin down blubbering to Mr. Paul bout somethin, and Mr. Paul was holdin his hand. So Donnie starts to laugh an says somethin like, ‘The old fag tryin to teach the young fag his bidness.’ An he bangs open the door and starts teasin Tilroy an Mr. Paul, callin them all kinds a queer names. Then Tilroy jumps up an says he ain’t no faggot, then starts callin Mr. Paul a fudgepacker an homo an jus goes apeshit on him. Jus starts hittin him hard. An Mr. Paul runs to the back of the place, but Tilroy follows him and pushes him out the back door. You know the rest.”
“So Cleo never hit Mr. Paul or teased Tilroy.”
Buzzy shook his head.
“Well, you gotta tell him you know everything. You can’t be carrying this around with you. It’s killing you. Plus he didn’t do anything.”
“I jus don’t know what to do. I jus don’t. I know it’s wrong not to tell, but he’s my brother.” His voice broke.
The barn door slid open and Cleo walked in. “What are you homos doin in here?” he said and smiled.
Buzzy suddenly went cold. “We’re talkin bout what happened to Mr. Paul. An don’t ever be callin us homos again.”
The smile left Cleo’s face. “Easy, Buzz, it’s jus talk is all. Hey, I put a plug in for you on TV. Thanked you for being my faithful trainin partner.” There was an awkward silence before Cleo spoke again. “So what about Mr. Paul?”
“We’re talkin bout who done him.”
“Heard the Company’s men done him on acounta him tryin to shut Mr. Boyd down.”
Buzzy looked up from the floor hard into Cleo. “That ain’t what happened, Cle.”
Cleo regarded him. “How do you know what happened?”
“Because I seen it.”
“What did you see?”
“Everthin.”
“What’s everthin? What did you see?”
“I seen you an Donnie an Wiltry go into Miss Janey’s an I seen Tilroy beatin on Mr. Paul in the alley an I seen you standin there watchin while he kicked his teeth in.”
Cleo’s Adam’s apple bobbed on a hard swallow. He sat down slowly on a hay bale and put his head into his hands. “Ohhhh, man,” he said. “I think I’m gonna puke.” He stood up, took two quick steps to the door, then sat back down quickly. He got up again and walked unsteadily into the dark and threw up. He retched for a minute, stood in the darkness for a minute more, then came back to the hay bales relatively composed.
“Who you tole this to?”
“Jus Kevin. I tole the sheriff I dint see nothing.”
“Who you tole it to?”
“Nobody,” I said.
Cleo assessed the situation for a few seconds, then sat down on the third hay bale and motioned us in, huddle-like. “Okay, here’s the plan. If the sheriff comes back to you, don’t say nothin more. Hear? Don’t change your story in any way. We got two-a-days startin August first. Don’t want nothin distractin me.”
“You think you can jus quarterback this all away?” Buzzy said. “Life don’t work like that. Folks is gonna find out. Tilroy’s already tole people.”
Cleo cursed to himself. “Who’d he tell?”
“Petunia an them. Cle, you gotta go to the sheriff,” Buzzy implored. “You didn’t do nothing! It was all Tilroy.”
“Buzzy’s right,” I said. “It’s all going to come out, and when it does you’ll look guilty. You go to the sheriff now, you’ll look like you did nothing wrong.”
Cleo thought for a moment, then shook his head; his face went dark. “I worked too hard to get where I got, an I ain’t throwin it all away cause Tilroy beat up some old fag.”
“He wasn’t just some old fag,” I said, anger boiling inside me.
Cleo stood up now and pointed menacingly at Buzzy. “I ain’t goin to the sheriff an you don’t say no word to no one. You hear?” He poked Buzzy hard in the chest.
“But you gotta go see the sheriff, Cle. I can’t be carryin this around.”
He came up close to Buzzy and grabbed his collar. “Listen, you little shit, you fuck my ride up I’m gonna beat your ass so badly it’ll make what Tilroy done look like a fuckin birthday party. You got that?”
Buzzy nodded. A tear came down each cheek.
“What if I tell the sheriff?” I whispered. “You going to beat me too?” A curious calm had come over me as I faced up to this much larger boy, knowing that I had rightness on my side. It gave me a bravery I’d never felt before and made the embarrassment of a beating at the hands of Cleo seem irrelevant.
He brought his nose to mine. “I will kick your fuckin ass all the way back to Redfuck, Indiana, or wherever the fuck you’re from.”
Normally such a confrontation would leave me shaking, but for some strange reason I wasn’t scared. “Fuck… you!” I said calmly, looking squarely into his eyes.
He flinched as if slapped, then pushed me hard. I fell back across the hay bale and hit my head sharply on the plank floor, seeing stars. Buzzy lunged at Cleo, who simply grabbed him one-handed by the throat and pushed him back across the other hay bale so that we were lying next to each other, staring at the barn ceiling. He stood over us and glared.
“Fuck you, Cleo,” Buzzy said through tears.
“You remember what I said, boy.” He shot out of the barn, finger still pointing.
Tears were flowing freely down Buzzy’s face now, and he made no attempt to hide them. “Fuck you, Cleo,” he said as a whisper.
“I’m not going to tell, Buzzy. Unless you want me to.”
He wrapped his arms around his chest, holding himself so tightly it looked like he was trying to cling to the remains of an older brother who had suddenly shape-shifted into something unrecognizable. He seemed to be clinging to the old reality because this new bend of things left little for him to grasp, left no one for him to look up to. He just kept staring at the beams in the barn ceiling and at the air in between and at the floating dust specks in the air, caught for us by the sword of light slashing through a dislodged plank high on the barn wall.