Chapter Nine

“Go away, Jimmy. I got no time for you and your bullshit.” Phillip kept walking.

Jimmy had pulled his truck over to the side of the street, against traffic, just to harass Phillip. What an asshole.

“Where you going? Gonna hook up with one of your girlfriends?” Jimmy sneered as he trailed Phillip.

Like a flash of lightning, Phillip realized the entire time he’d worked at the garage, Jimmy’s only facial expression when he talked to Phillip had been disgust. The feeling had been mutual, only Phillip had tried not to show it. Jimmy hadn’t bothered.

Phillip kept walking. If he reached the diner, he’d be safe. But if Jimmy followed him, he’d most likely go in and tell everyone inside Phillip was a fag. The idea of that scene churned Phillip’s stomach. Everyone staring at him with hatred and disgust in their eyes…

The door slammed on Jimmy’s truck and Phillip’s gut did a freefall. What the hell is Jimmy up to? No way would he fight him, right here on the street.

“I said, where you goin’?” Jimmy grabbed Phillip’s duffel bag and swung him around. Phillip stumbled as his knee wrenched, then righted himself as he shook Jimmy off.

“Fuck you, Jimmy. Let me go. Get the hell away from me.” Phillip backed up.

“There ain’t no place in this town for you. We got enough fags already. You better get lost or I might kick your ass into the next county.” Jimmy laughed, but his eyes were filled with hatred. Hands clenched, he stomped toward Phillip. “In fact, might just do it right now.”

There was only one way out of this clusterfuck with his skin intact. Phillip put his hand out, hitting Jimmy right in the center of his chest. Get back in your truck and go home.

Jimmy stepped back, a look of confusion on his face. “Well, you’re lucky, you fucker. I got to go home.” He turned around and headed back to his truck. As he opened the driver’s door, he shot Phillip a look, more ‘what the fuck’ than ‘I’m going to kill you.’

He slammed the door and drove off.

Phillip exhaled. Tremors started in his feet and traveled up through him until even his teeth chattered. Christ, this had to stop. This constant fear of being attacked. Of not feeling safe. The attack at the bar had messed him up, more than physically, like some sort of PTSD. His only recourse had been to influence Jimmy, and he’d been lucky he’d had the chance.

Jimmy had been caught off guard and Phillip had had the quick wits to defuse the situation. If he’d been another person, he might have pushed Jimmy to do something dangerous or even deadly, like drive his truck into a concrete post or off a road.

Phillip wondered if there would ever come a time he’d be so afraid for his life as to stoop to that level of self-defense. To what he saw as nothing less than murder.

But it would be a perfect murder. How would anyone know he’d influenced someone? He probably wouldn’t even be a suspect. Jesus, do I really have that in me?

Another shiver racked him. He waited for it to dissipate, then he picked up his bag and put one foot in front of the other until he arrived at the diner.

Just twenty minutes before Brian arrived. And I’ll be safe.