“This is your last warning, Kellam, and certainly the last time I’m pulling you from lockup.” Quick stepped closer. Kell swallowed but he held his footing. He stared straight ahead, his gaze level with Quick’s chest. The man was six- three, and Kell stood at an impressive five-nine. His sensei’s voice was dark and full of warning, “If you wanna be a goddamn vigilante, then do it someone else’s dojo.”
“Yes, Sensei,” Kell said in a low but firm tone.
“Get the showroom floors buffed and shined and the mats sanitized before the seven a.m. classes, since you have so much energy,” Quick added, before he turned his back and left the large warehouse.
Dang it! Kell wanted to turn around and punch the heavy bag beside him but he refrained, because his hands were already sore and the work he had ahead of him was going to be torture. Way to go, dummy. Kell hadn’t had to clean mats since he was a white belt—a budding seed in the life of martial arts. Now look at him, a black belt reduced to humiliation. Regardless of the fact that no one was there to see him. He knew what position he was in. He truly had disgraced himself as he fell to his knees with the bucket of warm water and cloth rags.
By the time eight-thirty arrived, Kell was stumbling back into his small apartment, more tired than he’d felt in a long time. But he deserved that punishment and he took it like a man. When was he gonna learn? After his sensei gave up on him? Jesus. Kell closed his eyes and took a couple of calming breaths. He couldn’t take another man walking out of his life. Like a glutton for punishment Kell went to his old laptop that sat on the small dinette table in his even smaller kitchen. He found his way to his father’s Twitter page, aggressively clicking on the images and staring angrily at the overly-tanned, grinning faces looking back at him. Taunting him. His father finally had the family he’d always claimed he deserved.
“There’s no way any son of my mine is a goddamn fairy. That’ll go over well at the next election.”
Kell flinched as if his father was right there yelling in his face. He’ll never forget the way he’d cast him to the wayside as if he were a used car and it was time for a newer model. He’d already begun working on a new family before he’d even discarded his current one. All Senator Mark Knight cared about were appearances and staying in office. He valued his designer and custom-made suits more than his real image. He cared for his multi-acre estate home—paid for mostly by dirty campaign contributions—more than he cared for his son. Even his vintage car collection remaining the talk of the country club poker parties took priority over having dinner with his family.
Now that Kell’s mother had passed and he was gone, his father had his picture-perfect household, complete with a blonde, plastic-infused wife, and the new heir to his reputable name, already a child prodigy—the stepbrother he’d never be allowed to know. Kell slammed the lid down on the picture of his dad and his unknown sibling in the skybox seats at the United Center, enjoying a Blackhawks game. Rubbing elbows with the elite. Kell had once been in that world, but at fifteen, he’d told his father that he was gay and it wasn’t forty-eight hours later before he was dropped and discarded like a diseased dog.
“I was so glad I prepared for this. I knew you’d try to screw things up for me. Just when I’m getting ready to launch the largest campaign of my career and you pull this shit. Gay!” his father fumed. “I’m being punished for something, but I don’t know what. My own son is trying to sabotage my name. God, if only your mother was here she could fix this mess. She’s probably turning over in her grave.”
Kell stood there gaping at his dad in complete shock. Coming out hadn’t gone anywhere near how he’d planned. His dad was supposed to tell him he loved him no matter what.
“Are you doing this because you don’t want to go to Pinecrest anymore? Huh?!”
Kell had been bullied and tortured daily, hourly, at Pinecrest Academy. His father constantly ignored his pleas to be transferred elsewhere. At fifteen, he was positive he was solely attracted to boys. He’d accept any school, public or private as long as it didn’t have homophobic assholes. Who knew his father was one, too? He hadn’t seen it coming. His dad might ignore him and put him off on his nannies and sitters entirely too much, but there were lots of public outings where he was proud to have a son. He told everyone as much.