Page 42 of Saved By the Pitcher

“That’s bullshit,” James spat. “You saw them and heard them up close. Why can’t they take your description of them and at least use that?”

“I asked him about security cameras in the area,” Billy continued. “He claimed he had already checked that and they weren’t operational at the time of the attack.”

James believed the cop was giving Billy the runaround, no doubt figuring that the theft of a ring with unknown value wasn’t worth their time investment. He couldn’t understand how the police could have already checked all the security cameras, questioned a witness and come to the hospital to interview Billy.

“Come on. Let’s get you home,” James suggested, taking hold of Billy’s elbow and helping him rise. “Why wouldn’t you call me?”

“I told you. I’m fine,” Billy muttered.

“No, you’re not,” James countered. “Billy, they said you’ve been given medication that could make you vulnerable if you left on your own. Jesus, do you want someone else to attack you and take the rest of your money?”

Billy let James shoulder him as they exited the building. “James, I saved for over a year for that ring,” Billy cried, once they were in the open air. Tears were flowing now, and he leaned into James’ larger body for comfort.

James knew there was nothing he could say to resolve that issue. Instead, he continued kissing the top of Billy’s head, noticing some of the locks of hair were stiff and discolored from dried blood. “Come stay at my apartment. I don’t want you to be alone tonight.”

“I’ll be all right,” Billy said with uncertainty, choking on some nasal drip and wiping his eyes.

“It wasn’t a request,” James answered. “I don’t want to be alone tonight either.”

Once James hailed a cab, he helped his wounded brother into the backseat and cradled him in his arm for the short duration home. Billy drifted into sleep on the ride as the effects of the sedatives kicked in. At the stoop of his apartment, James maneuvered Billy from the car the way he’d help an intoxicated friend, guiding him up the front steps, then up the inner staircase to the floor of his apartment. Inside James’ home, Billy emerged from his drug-induced fog a bit, asking if he could sleep on James’ bed. James stroked Billy’s hair and nodded, leading him into the bedroom. He took off Billy’s shoes then tucked him in, figuring one night of Billy sleeping dressed was better than James injuring him further by trying to remove clothes.

James was pulling an extra blanket and pillow from his linen closet to make up the sofa for himself when his phone buzzed. He looked to the screen and saw the incoming text had been from his father. It informed him that the patriarch wished to talk to him in the morning.

Wiping a hand over his face in frustration, James dropped to the couch and punched keys, typing that Billy had been attacked and he needed to stay with him.

His father responded that he was aware of what happened and that Billy would be fine, still demanding a meeting in the morning. Before James could protest, his father texted that a driver would be at his door at seven in the morning, and that he’d be sure to return him to the city on time for James’ theater rehearsal.

“How do you know he’ll be fine, you son of a bitch?” James yelled at the phone, as if his father could hear him. “You haven’t even talked to us!” James flung the cell to a nearby chair, vowing to ignore his father’s request. Seconds later, he knew he’d meet with his father. It had been a summons, and the driver was going to show up regardless of whether James protested. James imagined there might be added muscle to force James’ compliance.

James retrieved the phone and texted Nadia to explain that Billy had been mugged and beaten, and he asked her if she could be at his apartment before seven in the morning to stay with Billy. She called back right away, alarmed at what had transpired, but promised James she would be there. James hadn’t mentioned the engagement ring so as not to disclose Billy’s intent to propose.

He peeled off his shirt and pants, and grabbed a blanket for cover. The awful taste of the day still lingered in his mouth, but his usual nightly teeth brushing required energy he didn’t have. Instead, he stared at the darkened ceiling with tears rolling down his cheeks.

* * * *

James let Nadia into the apartment at six-forty-five a.m., whispering to her that Billy was still sleeping. She tip-toed into the bedroom and curled up beside her man, crying when she saw his bruised and broken body. James whispered a thanks for her help, gave her the doctors’ medication instructions then went to the front stoop to wait for his ride. He knew keeping his father waiting would make the meeting even more unpleasant.

James was surprised that the car had only a driver when it arrived. James figured that his father must have guessed he’d make the trek without a fuss. James wondered if his father respected his obedience or if James’ lack of pushback was just another weakness in his father’s eyes.

Once they arrived at the Hudson Valley mansion where his father resided, James was submitted to the usual body-search for weapons or concealed recording devices. James hated that his father treated him and Billy like every other visitor to the home, as people who couldn’t be trusted.

“The prodigal son arrives,” Charles commented as James was deposited by a security person at the entryway of Charles’ office. “Well, come in. Sit down. If you want to be back in time for your rehearsal, don’t dilly-dally.”

James didn’t bother greeting his father. He didn’t know why he had been summoned, but he was certain it wasn’t for father-son fun time. He took the seat on the other side of Charles’ desk, staring at the older man with what he hoped to be an unreadable expression. “Billy was still resting when I left the apartment, in case you were curious as to how your son is doing after being brutally attacked.”

His father sighed with impatience. “Stop being so dramatic, James. I texted you last night that I know he is fine.”

“How did you know that, Father? The hospital can’t disclose his medical information to you unless he authorizes them to do so,” James pointed out. “You’re no longer listed for either of us as an emergency contact.”

His father pursed his lips. “James, when will you learn that I have connections everywhere? In this case, the police officer who responded to the call notified me of how William is doing.”

James nodded with disdain. “Just how much of the NYPD is in your back pocket, Father?”

Charles grinned. “Enough. And you two may as well forget about someone solving the crime. It’s buried.”

“Why?”

“Because I want it to be,” Charles responded with a matter-of-fact tone. “James, if you’re upset that William was beaten, you have nobody to blame but yourself. I told you there would be consequences for you continuing to see that ballplayer.”