Page 21 of Adonis (Salt and Starlight #1)

Connor’s head hurt so much it stopped working. For the life of him, he couldn’t put together a scenario where everything fell into place in a way that made sense. That Cessair was his dad’s boss he could understand. Austin might not have known that. But everything that happened with the case didn’t make sense if Cessair truly was responsible for bribes. Because when it came down to it, a testimony would have been enough. What was the agenda here? Was there even one, or was Connor just seeing shadows on the wall?

He looked out at the ocean. He watched the waves and let his mind settle, focusing on how he’d felt a little while ago instead of this new confusion.

Adonis gasping against his neck. Clinging to him afterwards… All Connor wanted to do was swim out where he knew Adonis lingered and spend time with him. Rather than Malta, his future could be buying a boat and living on the ocean.

Connor doubted he’d get away with asking his dad for enough money to buy one, but he could save up; Sally would hire him in a heartbeat. Spend his days with Adonis by the beach in the meantime. Connor wouldn’t have any qualms leaving behind the world. He’d visit Laurence and Trevor, stop in every so often to stock up on books and food, and he’d be set.

“Are you okay?”

Laurence asked him quietly.

They’d sat in silence for a while now. Connor’s stress had melted away with his tension. He glanced at Laurence, taking in his nervous lip biting. “I’m fine. But let’s leave the conspiracy stuff be, okay? If there’s something there, the police will investigate it.”

They returned to silence. Connor was reluctant to leave the beach and drive toward civilisation.

“Do you want to see?”

Laurence dragged Connor’s attention from the ocean. He’d been leaning against the steering wheel, gazing out at it, trying to get a final glimpse of Adonis before they left. He knew it was futile, the beach was far too busy now for him to appear.

Connor turned to Laurence, who offered out his sketchbook. Laurence had joined them in the water after the girls started to surf with them, but after another hour he’d set himself on the beach and dedicated his time to sketching.

On the page was a full body drawing of Adonis.

“It’s good,”

Connor said, taking the sketchbook to study the drawing in more detail. He’d captured Adonis’s arrogant expression in the image. He smiled to himself, looking at it. “Can I have it?” he asked.

“Of course,”

Laurence said. “I have a few more if you flip over.”

Connor would wrap it in plastic and bring it to the dock to show Adonis. See what he thought about being drawn. The following pages were filled with close-ups of his face, small sketches of him swimming in the water. The last page had Connor sitting on his board, petting Adonis’s hair as he rested his head in his lap.

Connor’s gaze snagged on his own expression in the drawing; a pleased little smile on his face.

“Did I look that smug?”

Connor asked.

“You looked happy,”

Laurence said.

*

They’d brought everything they needed to go straight to the festival on the docks. It was coming up to three p.m., and the roads were packed as they got close to town. In the distance, Connor saw the Ferris wheel and another tall ride, one that turned you upside down—The Exterminator. There was also The Terminator, spinning cups, go carts.

Laurence leaned over the dash to admire the rides. “I can’t believe I have to work for this,”

he said regretfully.

Connor glanced at him. “Want me to do it? And you can go around with your friends.”

“But then you won’t get to go around either.”

Laurence shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I’m saving up for a drawing tablet, so I don’t mind working. I just want to complain about it, too.”

Connor nodded. He didn’t exactly want to go around the festival. He was curious, and maybe in past years it would have been the ultimate distraction, but now it hardly seemed like it was worth the effort. If he had someone to spend it with, friends or someone fun, then maybe he could enjoy it. But Laurence was the only person he would probably like going around with, and he was working.

Connor would rather go straight home and see if Adonis would come meet him at the dock…

Thanks to Trevor running a food stand, they could by-pass the jammed parking lot and get access to a staff lot. Connor parked in the first space they found and joined the crowd heading towards the docks. Trevor’s food truck had a long line of people mobbing it, and Trevor and Nick both scrambled around inside.

“Ugh.”

Laurence scrunched up his nose. “I’d better go help them.”

Laurence darted into the crowd, fighting his way to the food truck. Connor took one more long look at the surrounding people; a few people’s gazes caught on him. They recognised him without him recognising them, so it took no stretch of the imagination to figure out how they knew him. Connor’s chest squeezed in longing for Adonis, the ocean, open seas, and peaceful winds. How did he used to enjoy crowds like this? How did he find respite in the distraction and not utter madness?

Connor turned from the crowds walking toward the empty docks further out. He could walk the water line to kill some time. The food truck was only open until evening, and then they’d pack up and head home.

Yellow lights hung everywhere. The winking lights reflected off the ocean water. Connor paused, admiring the glittering effect. He imagined Adonis out there somewhere beneath the waves.

Connor wondered what Adonis would think if he borrowed scuba gear from his dad’s lab and went under the water with him? Connor would have to explain that he had to be careful with the equipment, and he’d most likely have to put up with some level of mocking from Adonis about needing equipment… but he’d probably like it. And Connor would see exactly what Adonis looked like while moving underwater. A summer of exploring the colourful reefs with Adonis… how amazing would that be?

“Connor Kelly?”

Connor looked away from the ocean to the pair standing in front of him. Two adults, a man and a woman, dressed casually. He didn’t recognise them, but they’d used his full name… He sighed, no doubt in his mind about how they knew him. “Can I help you with something?”

The voice that came out reflected someone done and exhausted with the world.

“I’m Alice, this is Harry. We’re journalists with the Independent.”

Connor suppressed an audible groan. Reporters. He hadn’t had to deal with any since the swift court case. He’d expected more fuss when he came home, but then again, he spent more time in his dad’s lab underwater or on the ocean. He'd been turned away the only time he’d ventured out somewhere new.

“Right,”

Connor said dryly.

“We’re here to cover the festival,”

Alice said in a friendly, conversational tone. “We’ve both been keeping up to date on your case… do you think that your sentencing was odd?”

Connor had read a few articles about the injustice of it all. How unbelievable it was that in this modern day that someone got away with such a blatant hate crime. His mind snagged on his very short trial; it had happened so quickly that he’d been sentenced before there was any excitement around him; the news broke after. Looking back now, he couldn’t fathom why he’d been so stubborn. Why didn’t he just tell the truth? Why was the spite he felt toward everyone used to hurt only himself? Sure, he would have gotten into trouble for fighting Peter either way, but admitting he was gay would have cleared him of the hate crime aspect.

“Sure,”

Connor said, aware that he was being watched. “I’ve read all about how odd it is. I’m not doing an interview, so if you’ll excuse me—”

“We spoke to some of your classmates,”

the man, Harry, said. He didn’t pretend to smile or act like he was Connor’s friend. “A few of them mentioned that Peter’s been in a lot of fights before your…spat.”

Connor snorted. He knew at least a dozen guys who would talk shit about Peter the second they got the chance. Guy had a mean streak and a habit of pointing out other people’s insecurities. Connor had never hated him, exactly. Their paths didn’t cross often, and any remark Peter dropped his way was nothing compared to what Connor used to hear from his mom. Plus, Connor had never taken anything lying down—he was far from a soft target. “I suppose everyone will think twice about picking a fight with him now, won’t they?”

“They also had a few things to say about you,”

Alice added, her gaze boring into Connor’s.

He hesitated before walking away, thinking about that line. Thinking about the way Alice and Harry looked at him. Like they had an inside track, and that track didn’t make them hate his guts.

“What did they say about me?”

It could just be the remarks that his teachers used to leave about him being a menace to deal with. Sharp-tongued and bristly. Or it could be something that one of his former friends let slip, finally breaking their silence.

“That you’re gay,”

Harry said.

Connor blinked in surprise at his bluntness. Information that he’d been so stubborn about keeping close to his chest, and here it was in the hands of two reporters. He almost laughed. His situation wasn’t funny, but his own spiteful attitude… It hadn’t been smart to do what he did. Not to lose his temper, nor keep his silence, no matter what his lawyer advised. But he’d done it, and he’d scorned the world for believing something like that about him, even though he did nothing to defend himself.

“So, you came here to cover the festival, hoping you’d see me?”

Connor asked.

“We’d like to help you.”

Alice stepped forward. “The more we dig into your case, the stranger it gets.”

Connor had first attributed the rush of his sentencing to Peter’s mom pushing to get sympathy votes for her upcoming election, and the light sentencing he’d gotten to a system that wasn’t concerned about protecting members of the LGBT community. Now, his mind gravitated to Cessair, and his creeping presence in the case.

Now that Alice and Harry had interviewed his friends and someone had actually talked, letting slip about Connor’s orientation, he had no doubt that an article was on the way. No doubt Connor was about to become a sensation yet again. He’d finally found some peace and normality. The idea of going back into court rooms and meetings all over again was exhausting.

“I’m good, thanks.”

Connor looked past the reporters, a tall figure catching his eye. Trevor was approaching, walking swiftly along the ocean path. As he got closer, Connor saw his frown. “And as I said, I don’t care to do an interview.”

“Everything alright here?”

Trevor asked as he reached them. His broad shoulders were stiff as he stood next to Connor, his gaze sharp on the two reporters.

“It’s fine,”

Connor said. He wasn’t going to stand by and let Trevor get into an argument with two reporters. Though part of him warmed that Trevor was clearly ready to have his back. “I was just coming over to you guys. Fryers still burning? I’m starved.”

Trevor’s eyes flicked to Connor, sweeping over his face. Connor guessed he was looking for signs of distress, and when he found none, his expression relaxed. “Laurence and Nick are running the place. I was just coming to check on you.”

“Well then, let’s go grab a bite. Nice meeting you two.”

Connor sidestepped the reporters.

“Connor.”

Alice thrust her hand out, offering a small business card. “If you want to talk, don’t hesitate to contact us. And I would advise you find a new lawyer. I can give some recommendations.”

Connor glanced at the card. He hesitated, but took it from her and put it into his pocket.

“Care to comment on what your friends said?”

Harry asked.

“I believe he just said he didn’t want to do an interview,”

Trevor said, his voice coming out stern. Both Alice and Harry glanced warily at Trevor. They didn’t know, as Connor did, that Trevor was softer than the average kitten.

“Are you going to write about it, if I comment?”

Connor asked.

“Not if you don’t want us to—”

Alice said.

“—Yes.”

Harry finished in a certain tone. Alice shot him a scathing look. Connor thought that was unnecessary; Harry was the one reading him right, after all.

“They’re telling the truth,”

Connor said. “And no, before you ask, I’m still not willing to do an interview.”

He turned his back on them and set off down the path. After a moment, Trevor caught up.

“What did they ask you?”

Trevor asked, his voice tight with worry. “What did your friends say?”

Ahead of them, the docks were filled with only a small scattering of people. In the distance, Sally’s bar was packed; the music and voices were audible even from where they were.

“They said I was gay.”

Trevor missed a step. Connor reached out a steadying hand before his big form hit the deck. Once he found his footing, Trevor’s shocked face jerked toward Connor. “Why didn’t you say that when you were being sentenced?”

he asked. His surprise didn’t infect his voice; Trevor kept it calm. His brow furrowed.

The back of Connor’s neck reddened; his reasons were spiteful when he’d made the decision, but he hadn’t been embarrassed by them before. He was now. He wasn’t about to tell Trevor that, though. “And go from a hate charge to an assault charge? There isn’t much difference.”

“I would argue that there is.”

Connor just shrugged.

Trevor kept his silence for only a few seconds. “What happened that night?”

He looked furtively toward Connor. “Can you tell me?”

Connor hated explaining himself. It always made him feel like he was trying to say, “Look! See! I’m a good boy really!”

His mom always got angrier with him when he would try to explain his actions. It was better to just shoulder the blame, let people assume the worst. He’d eventually convinced himself that he didn’t care what other people thought of him, which was largely true. But he knew without any deep soul searching that he cared what Trevor thought.

“I’ll tell you if you get me chips,”

Connor said. He meandered off the path, kicking a loose crisp wrapper out of his way before sitting on a bench set up for the festival. He glanced up at Trevor. “And a coke.”

“Alright,”

Trevor agreed. He looked back the way they’d came, waiting a moment with his eyes on the two reporters who were only dark shadows in the distance. “If anyone bothers you, come to the food truck, okay?”

Connor rolled his eyes. A “yes, dad”

sat poised on the tip of his tongue. He held it back. “I’ll do that,”

he said blandly. Trevor didn’t take any notice of his attitude.

Trevor wasn’t gone long. Only enough time for Connor’s eyes to start drifting shut as his tired body tried to force him to doze.

Trevor offered Connor the coke and then two wrappers. “There’s chips in one, and Laurence insisted on making you a beetroot burger.”

“Beetroot burger? Interesting choice for a fast food stand.”

“Oh, believe me, I have gotten quite the earful about being more inclusive to vegetarians. I didn’t realise how backward and stubborn I was until Laurence calmly explained it.”

Trevor sat next to Connor.

Connor grinned before reaching for his chips. “You’re no match for him.”

“I’m figuring that out,”

Trevor said in resignation.

He waited quietly as Connor got a few mouthfuls of food into him, watching the festival scene as it whirled around them. In the distance, Sam’s tall frame and red hair caught his eye. And he apparently caught his, too, because he lifted his hand in a wave. He took a step in Connor’s direction before Mary sprang onto him and dragged him into the crowd. Connor chewed through a few bites of the burger before he cleared his throat.

“I can’t remember what happened,”

Connor said.

Trevor inclined his head toward him.

“I was at a party—my birthday party. I remember counting down the time to midnight with Austin. There was a cake and candles. I had a Pepsi—not a drop of anything in it, no alcohol, no anything, I swear. I know I made a big song and dance about missing your wedding and getting drunk instead, but I don’t actually drink.”

No point, since he couldn’t ever actually get drunk. Not like people described it, anyway. “I was counting down the time and then… I don’t know. My mind was bulldozed by this black wave. I was out. And when I woke up, I was in this mess. My knuckles were all bruised and I was sore everywhere, like I’d been a fight, so I know something did happen. But I don’t remember any of it. The whole—I walked in on two guys getting it on, and my inner bigot came out in a violent rage—story? Well, I’m guessing what happened is I did walk in on them, and I got angry that my boyfriend was hooking up with someone, and we got into a fight.”

Connor let out a heavy breath, feeling an intense weight in his stomach, an oppressive hurt pressing against his heart.

Connor shoved a handful of chips into his mouth, chewing through his malevolent feelings. It didn’t matter how much he tried to keep a level face; it wasn’t happening. But it wasn’t the end of the world, because of all the people to see that he was upset, Trevor bothered Connor the least.

Trevor reached out, placing a comforting hand on Connor’s shoulder.

“I was upset,”

Connor continued, swallowing the mush of chips. “Afterwards, when I got the gist of the story and got to the sentencing and the whole hate crime thing came up, it just pissed me off even more when none of my friends said anything about Austin and I dating. We weren’t going out in secret—my friends knew about us. But when it came to witness statements, the only thing that got to court was that I walked in on the two of them and attacked Peter.”

Trevor watched Connor thoughtfully as Connor returned to tearing at his food to distract himself from his uncomfortable feelings.

“I’m sorry that happened,”

Trevor eventually said, his voice deep with sympathy.

Connor grunted, chewing on his burger.

“We can appeal your charge,”

Trevor said. “Put together a case and try to get your prosecution overturned.”

“I still assaulted Peter, even if I can’t remember it. All I have to do is read a few books. I’d rather stick with that punishment than whatever they’d give me next.”

“It sounds like you were drugged, Connor. Courts look at things like that in investigations. And I think the fact that they didn’t do any sobriety tests says a lot about how the investigation was conducted.”

Connor quelled the defensive feeling rising inside. Trevor was looking out for him. He was trying to help. “I remember up until midnight. I don’t know exactly what happened with their timeline, but I remember my night up until then. And according to the report, the assault happened at ten thirty when I was seventeen. There’s no way that’s possible. I’m worried that if we open things back up, I’ll come out the other side worse off.”

He sighed. “There’s evidence that I beat up Peter, and it’s too late to get any evidence that I was drugged.”

“The world is set against you, Connor.”

Trevor said. “I think it would do some good to get some of that hate off your back, don’t you? You don’t want to spend your life getting turned away from restaurants over something you can solve now.”

“I don’t much care for the world, so it can hate me all it wants,”

Connor grumbled.

“You’ll care when Laurence picks a fight with it to defend you.”

Connor met his eyes, his mind churning. He considered how to voice his feelings. “I realise something needs to be done. From what’s coming out about bribes, and what those reporters said, the case will come under investigation whether I take action or not. I’m just worried that the outcome won’t be what I’m hoping for.”

“We’ll be smart about it,”

Trevor promised. “I already have a talented lawyer getting familiar with the sentencing, and we’ll investigate everything start to finish to put together a strong case.”

Connor narrowed his eyes. “And how long has this lawyer been working for you?”

Trevor cleared his throat and looked away. “We can talk about it more tomorrow,”

he deflected. “How about that? When you aren’t ready to keel over from exhaustion.”

Connor was mentally and physically tired, and the idea of some sleep appealed to him. He could think all of this through tomorrow.