Daddy Blue Pt. 01

"No problemo. I'll front you the money and you can pay me back later after you hit up your dad for some dough."

"Like I'm gonna wait for that. I'll do what I always do when I arrive home broke—which is sadly most of the time. They don't pay squat at that library. Anyway, I'm going to raid my daddy's stash."

"Say what?"

I had to laugh at the sound of absolute shock in Dell's voice. "It's not what you think. That's what I call the roll of bills he keeps rolled up in a sock in his underwear drawer. You know how old fashioned my dad is. Even though he's a cop, he's paranoid about carrying a lot of cash around with him. So he keeps a couple of hundred dollars rolled up in that sock for forever comes up. It's nothing new. I've been pilfering from that stash for years, whenever I'm running low."

"And he never noticed?"

"I keep trying to tell you, Dell: Despite what you may think, my dad is really the most trusting guy in the world. That's why he's always giving away money to people on the street. I don't think it has ever occurred to him to count the cash in his drawer. But I'm no fool. I only take a little at a time: twenty, thirty, fifty, tops. Just so it doesn't register on him."

"I don't want to tell you your business," cautioned Dell. "But considering what a total raving freak your dad can be, I don't think that sounds very smart. I know that if my dad ever caught me sneaking money out of his wallet, they'd still be scraping me off the ceiling the next day."

"Well, Dell, that's because your dad is a total raving psycho when it comes to money. My dad is nothing like that. Even when I go to him and actually ask for money he usually just forks it over—no questions asked."

"You're kidding. You're saying if you went to ask and asked for five hundred zillion bucks he wouldn't want to know what it was for?"

"Don't be ridiculous, you fool. You know what I mean. If I go to him as ask for a little spending money, he'll shrug and hand it over. Really, he's just a big softie. He caves on everything."

"Yeah, like how he caved when you said you wanted to go to UH."

"Fine. There is that one time," I sighed.

"I think what surprises me most, Charlie, is how you go on defending him even after he shot down your big dream of going to the school of your choice. Heck, I'm still punishing my dad for making me wait a year to get me a car back when I turned sixteen and got my license. And he even apologized saying he just couldn't afford it at the time."

"And that's because you're a totally rotten human being. I can't even imagine doing that to my dad: make him feel bad for something he couldn't help. We're too close for that."

"Because of your mom's leaving, huh," said Dell.

"Yeah. I was barely five when she up and left, just decided to take off without so much as a goodbye. She told my dad she just couldn't take it—wasn't cut out for domestic life. I've never been able to figure out what kind of a person does that: just gets up one day and decides to walk out on her own kid. It can really mess you up you up to go through a thing like that. For a long time I kept asking my dad, 'You're not going to leave too—are you?'"

"I know how the story goes, Charlie: About how he took lots of time off from his job to help you adjust, and how he sat up lots of nights with you until you fell asleep, and never once lost his temper even when you had all those troubles in school. I get the drift: He walks on water."

"OK, so maybe I do idolize him a bit. But I still say he deserves it. A kid in that situation pretty much needs a perfect father, and lucky for me I had one. You left out the hardest part he had to handle: a nerdy, sissy, loud-mouth kid who decided he was gay in the fifth grade and proceeded to tell the whole school about it. As you know, that led to nothing but grief for me. For a while there, I was into a fight just about every week; and when the principal threatened to suspend me, my dad marched right up to him and told him not only was he NOT going to suspend me, he was going to start sensitivity training for the entire school so that LGBT kids didn't have to go through what I was going through. Sounds like a hero to me."

"Yeah, that was pretty cool," said Dell. "He's a good guy, but not even he is goddamn perfect. Until you stand up to him—and I don't mean the half-ass stuff you've been doing up until now, Charlie—he's not gonna respect you. You need to make him see you as something other than just a little kid."

"I suppose you're right," I sighed ruefully

"So it's settled then," added Dell. "This time, you're really gonna do it. No more messing around and losing heart, no more letting him put you off with a lot of excuses. You're gonna corner him, sit him down, and let him have it with both barrels!"

"For Pete's sake, Dell, chill, will you? I'm not gonna shoot him. I'm going to sit him down and have a nice grown-up conversation about how this thing with A&M is not working out. He told me if I stuck it out for a year and really didn't like it, we could talk it over. Well, time's up. A year has passed, or almost passed, and I'm as antsy as ever to break out of A&M hell."

"Amen," chimed Dell. "Let him have it."

"I will, but don't expect me to attack him. He took care of me when I needed it, and I have to care of him, too. It's not easy being a cop and raising a kid alone. After Mom left he didn't have much of a personal life, at least not for a long time. I've always felt responsible for that, even though of course it wasn't my fault. I know I have to find a way to separate myself from him, and make him respect me as a grown-up, but I have to do that while still looking out for him."

"Poor Charliekins, you really are in a bind, aren't you. You know, he's a forty-year-old man. He doesn't need a mother."

"I know, but he could sure use a girlfriend."

"A girlfriend, yeah—so then he'd have somebody to focus on besides you."

"No, you idiot. So that then he wouldn't be alone in this house, now that I'm gone. Like I said, I worry about him."

"Well, that's sweet, Charlie, but I'm warning you: You go into that conversation with this I've-gotta-take-care-of-you-Daddy attitude and he is going to eat you alive."

"Honestly, Dell, where did you get this negative impression of my dad? He's nothing like that."

"I suppose you don't see it because you're so close to him, but he can be pretty intimidating. Like back when he couldn't find you, he used to call me up and start cross-examining me, wanting me to rat on you. I'm telling you, Charlie, when he wants to, that dude can be downright scary. The way he was coming at me, with all those questions, I got so rattled, I swear I was ready to confess to murder to make him stop."

I had to chuckle at the image Dell was painting of my dad. "Poor little Dell. Did he hurt your feelings?"

"It's not a joke, Charlie. There are times when I think your dad is a total psycho."

"He is not. He just gets a little intense sometimes. Look, I told you how to handle that cross-examination thing when he goes into cop mode. Just refuse to play the game. Whenever he tried that on me, I'd just sit there like a stony statue and stare at him until he ran out of gas, then calmly as you please I'd say I'm not a perp. Please stop treating me like I was one."

"This is classic stuff, Charlie. Come on, don't you think that this thing you have for bad boys—like Trey—has at least a little something to do with the fact that your dad is a cop?"

"Where do you get this stuff, Dell? I liked Trey because he was sexy and cute. How does that have anything to do with my dad?"

"It's pure rebellion—like when teachers' sons and preachers' sons start acting up. The last thing you want to be called is a goody two-shoes. Plus, as I recall, Trey happens to have a criminal record, doesn't he?"

"Big deal. He spent a year in the county lockup for boosting a car with a couple of his buddies right out of high school. It was just stupid kid stuff. What does it have to do with anything?"

"But, as I recall, you wouldn't have known that if not for your dad."

"Yeah, that was weird. A couple of months after Trey and I started dating, my dad went behind my back and had a criminal check run on him, completely without my knowledge. I swear I've never been more mad at him for anything than that. Heck, I still am. I know Trey would have gotten around to telling me about that eventually. What's your point?"

"That it's stuff like that that makes him a bad boy, and as far as you're concerned, the badder the better. And when are you going to stop pretending that it doesn't turn you on to know your dad doesn't approve of the guy."

"What crap. My dad never approved of any of the guys I liked."

"Precisely, because they were all bad boys."

"Agh, Dell! You drive me nuts sometimes. Just because I don't want someone like my dad doesn't mean I only like bad boys. See, the issue here isn't the type of guys I like, it more the type I don't like. And I'm just not interested in the nice, clean-cut, Mr. Stand-up, straight-arrow types. And before you take this too far, remember you don't like them either."

"OK, I give up," giggled Dell. "When it comes to the subject of your dad, you'll never give an inch. So how about tonight? Where are we going to eat?"

"That depends," I said as I jumped off the bed and headed down the hall to my dad's room. "It totally depends on how much money my dad is willing to 'loan' me for tonight."

"Well, I hope he's feeling generous," joked Dell.

"He is," I said smiling as I entered the master bedroom. I was always amused to see how neat and put-together my dad kept his room. Even the damn bed was neatly made. How come I didn't inherit some of that neatness?

"Found it," I announced into the phone when I located the white athletic sock with the thick roll in it. I lay the phone down on top of the chest and slid the bills out. After peeling off a fifty and a twenty for me, I reinserted the roll in the sock and carefully placed it back where I'd found it, tucked among the neatly folded socks and boxers at the back of the drawer.

It was then I noticed something else, partially concealed under a stack of underwear. I pulled it out.

"What the hell?" I muttered, staring at the object.

"What?" asked Dell, still on the line.

"I'm not sure. Some kind of CD in here; you know, the personal type, with a hand-printed label on it: 'Playtime in Todd's Crib.'"

"Todd who? Do I know him?"

"No, but I do. He's one of Dad's cop friends, from the stationhouse. They started hanging out a couple of years ago while I was still in eleventh grade. I always thought he was a little strange."

"Really?" said Dell, his curiosity rising. "So why have I not heard about him before?"

"For Pete's sake, Dell, he's Dad's friend, not mine. And until last summer right before I left for college, I really didn't see that much of him. Like Dad, he's a single guy and they liked to go out on weekends and hang out in old guy bars, listening to jazz and shooting pool."

Dell chuckled. "Ooo, that sounds cozy. Maybe that's why your dad couldn't get a girlfriend. He already had a boyfriend."

"Shut up, you moron. I don't know why I tell you anything. But I have to admit this guy Todd is sort of interesting—you know, for a cop. He's a lot younger than my dad, late twenties I think, and a lot of the cops down at the stationhouse don't like him."

"Really? Why not?"

"If you ever met him I think you'd know. This guy just doesn't look like a cop. He came into the department a few years ago, and looked so young that right away they put him into undercover and sent him into the schools as a mole, sniffing out drugs."

"Wow," said Dell. "That is sorta interesting. So he was like a spy or a snitch?"

"Exactly. They say he looked so young he could pass as a high school student, no questions asked. Of course that was then. He's older now, but he still mostly does undercover because he's so laid-back looking. Longish red-blond hair. Sideburns. A goatee. Even tatts on both arms."

"Are you sure he's a cop?" asked Dell incredulously.

I had to laugh. "Well, that's just it. A lot of the regular, older ones don't think he's much of a cop. And I happen to know for a fact that he's quite the lounge lizard. I think that's what appealed to my dad. He had just turned forty, and was feeling sorta old and out-of-it. So he started running with Todd to get back his groove and start having an honest-to-God social life. I have to confess I encouraged him to do it."

"Hm . . . so why do I get the feeling you're not telling me everything?"

When I didn't answer Dell knew something was up. "Do you really think you can keep a secret from me? Out with it, Charlie. There's something about this guy you don't like."

"That's not true. I like him fine. I just don't trust him."

"Because . . ."

"Well, there's his reputation for one thing. I mean, I don't really care what kind of reputation he has, but it does seem strange a guy like that would be hanging out with my dad. OK, and before you ask . . . he has a reputation as a junkyard dog."

"Oh. My. God," gasped Dell. "I can't believe you've been keeping this juicy stuff from me. OK, tell me everything."

"OK. In cop talk, a junkyard dog is basically someone who will stick his dick in any available hole. It doesn't matter who."

"You mean . . ."

"Exactly."

"Well, you're right. That really doesn't sound like the sorta guy your dad would be hanging with. So how do you know all this?"

"I admit I'm not beyond doing a little eavesdropping," I said. "And just like everybody else, cops do love to talk. Whenever I hear my dad talking to some of his cop buddies, I always keep my ears open."

"And what's wrong with a little eavesdropping? I do it all the time. So what do you think that tape means, 'Playtime in Todd's Crib'?"

"Hell if I know. But I sure as heck intend to find out. One more thing, Dell: Last summer while I was hanging around here waiting for college to start, Todd actually came up to me one night and asked me out. That's when I learned he wasn't exactly straight."

"Wait! He's gay?"

"Probably more like bisexual—like Trey."

"So what happened exactly?"

"Well, like I said, it was late summer. By then Dad and Todd were hanging out most weekends. One Saturday night they were here watching TV or something, and I was up in my room on my laptop. At some point I just happen to look up and there he was, Todd standing in the doorway, just kind of watching me."

"Creepy, huh?"

"No, just a little surprising. Todd and I hadn't exchanged a dozen words before that, and now suddenly he was in my room. OK, I guess that was a little strange."

"Then what?"

"He came in, smiling a lot, like he always does, and chatting, acting real friendly-like. And yes, now that I think about it, it did seem kinda strange. I wondered what he was up to. After a few minutes he got to the point. Now that I was 18 and all legal and everything, he said, he didn't see me as a kid anymore. That's when he asked me out."

"Just like that."

"Yep, pretty much, though I admit he was pretty smooth about it. If that dude is a dog, I'm willing to bet he gets a lot of tail. Up until that moment, I hadn't thought two cents about him, one way or another. He wasn't bad-looking, just nothing special. But in that moment, Dell, I realized this guy could honestly be considered sort of a hunk. If Trey and I weren't already together at the time, I think I would have gone out with him."

"And I'm sure that would have made Papa real happy."

I gave a hearty laugh. "I think we both know how Dad would've taken it. Can you imagine me telling my upright, straight-arrow dad that I was going out with a guy ten years older than me with a reputation as a dog? It would've been the beginning of a World War III."

"Oh, you are bad," laughed Dell. "Damn, I wish you would've done it just to see how your dad would've reacted, with me around to witness the fallout, of course. But I suppose hanging with ex-con Trey had already caused you enough trouble for one summer, huh. OK, so what happened with this guy Todd? Was that the end of it?"

"Pretty much. He did give me a card with his name on it, and said to call him if I ever changed my mind. And that was the extent of it."

"Too bad," joked Dell. "Talk about the ultimate bad boy. With him you could have indulged all your fantasies."

"Shut up, Dell. The only thing that interests me about Todd is what's on this disc."

I hurried downstairs to the den to pop the disc in the DVD player. I started to hang up on Dell, but he all but threatened to kill me if I didn't keep on the line and give a blow-by-blow description of whatever was on the tape. I put him on speaker and laid the phone on the coffee table.

"You're going to be disappointed," I warned. "Knowing these guys, it's probably just boring images of them playing poker or watching the Super Bowl."

"Nice try, Charlie C, but I can tell by your voice you're as curious as I am to see what's on this thing. You really were turned on by that dude, weren't you?"

"I was not. I just said that to get a rise out of you. To tell the truth, he was a little smarmy for my taste. But if you're so all-fired curious, I can always call him up and fix you up."

The video started up. No big surprise. The film was a piece of schlock: Poorly lit. Mediocre sound quality. Focus was off until Todd popped into view and fixed it. It was fairly obvious the camcorder was mounted onto a tripod and it was pointed at . . . huge surprise! His bed. So this little feature really was set up in Todd's "crib," and this setup was pretty obviously the boy cop's amateur attempt at a fuck film.

In thinking back over my impressions of Todd, I can't say I was all that surprised. He had a certain way of looking and dressing and acting that suggested he was probably up for anything, and the fact he would try something like this fell right into place. But if I wasn't overcome with shock, poor Dell was.

"You're not really serious, are you?" he yelped. "A porno? For goodness sake, Charlie, he's a cop. Aren't there like laws against cops doing that sort of thing?"

"Probably not more than for anyone else," I said. "Strictly speaking I don't think it's technically illegal for any consenting adults, especially if they're not trying to sell it. But I'm pretty sure he could get fired for something like this. Cops have a pretty tough morals code."

"Wait, dammit—shush!" I said, suddenly hearing the faint sounds of voices whispering off camera. Todd, having fixed the focus, had disappeared behind the lens and was arguing in a loud whisper with someone also unseen. I strained to hear what was being said but the sound was just too muffled.

"This is too weird," I snickered to Dell. "I think Todd's partner is getting cold feet about going through with the scene. Knowing him, he probably didn't spring this on the poor girl until the last minute. But ten gets you one he's done this with other girls, and maybe even guys. Jesus, Todd really is a junkyard dog."

"A perv is what he is," contributed Dell.

Perv or not, what was pretty clear was that Todd was lit, high or drunk or both. I could hear him giggling, teasing and poking fun at his unseen partner. And then suddenly Todd reappeared in front of the camera, still laughing and as naked as the day he was born.

"Fucking shit!" I gasped.

"What?" said Dell.

"Dell, he just came back on an he's completely—naked."

"Oh fuck no!" yelped Dell.

"I'm not kidding. And I think he's motioning for his girlfriend to come out and join him."

"So, tell me: How does he look—y'know, naked?"