Call Me Big Daddy
an I Got You series book
Jamie Lake & Jeff Rivera
Alberto shivered from the cold and pulled the bulky plaid covers over his head. The musty filthy air filled his nostrils.
He’d broken into the abandoned house and hoped to stay until he got on his feet.
He shouldn’t have slept in a stranger’s bed, but anything was better than roaming the streets in the cold.
Being kicked out of his parents’ home for being gay had been hard. Alberto had to get used to being alone. Not even his best friend was around.
It was times like these that the young man wished he had someone special in his life.
Fat chance. His last attempt at a relationship was a nightmare.
He’d bandaged his cut hand the best he could, hoping it wouldn’t get infected. Breaking the window was the only way inside.
The teenage boy’s bedroom he slept in was full of sports memorabilia, action figurines, and even a picture frame of him and his family.
Must have been great having loving parents.
Whatever. He didn’t need them. Alberto had made it this long without their help. Just him and his best friend.
Yet still, barely out of his teens himself, Alberto wished for better times.
He never should have came out of the closet, then he’d be celebrating the holidays with them instead.
The black eye his father had given him was evidence of that. He couldn’t believe his mother had done nothing but clutch the cross around her neck.
Hypocrites. Nothing said Christianity like beating up then abandoning your first born son for being gay.
Just get through the night. If there was a God, He’d work things out.
Wind howled through the hole in the window, flicking wet snow in Alberto’s face. He didn’t have much money, but he’d leave enough to cover repairs.
Must have been three o’clock in the morning before Alberto finally fell asleep. The troubles that weighed on his mind would have to wait until dawn.
A bright light from under the bedroom door woke him. Rays stretched across the scuffed wood floor and shaggy green carpet.
Someone was home.
Alberto gasped. He had to escape. But how? The only way out was the window; sure to creak loud enough to alert whoever was out there.
Heavy footsteps paced up and down the hallway, inching closer. Close enough to make Alberto’s heart stop.
His best friend said the man who lived here was gone for hunting season. He was wrong. Dead wrong.
Water rushed from the faucet. Then, the bathroom door slammed shut.
Now was his chance.
Where the hell were his shoes? Alberto had slept in his denims and jacket, but there was no time to look.
Gun-loving men in these parts shot first and asked questions later. He was fucked.
The bathroom water turned off. In seconds the man would be here. Alberto would have to go out the window barefoot.
Dammit. The window was stuck halfway.
Heavy wind blasted ice cold air in his face. Knick knacks shifted, loose papers spiraled in the bedroom.
The alarm clock fell with an indisputable clang.
“What the hell?” the man’s booming voice said from the bathroom.
Diving head first into the snow, Alberto didn’t have time for the pain. He crawled under the window sill, tucking his legs under.
Heavy bootsteps charged toward him. The man’s hot breath shot from his mouth above.
Please, don’t notice me.
He held his breath, waiting for his impending doom.
“Fuck,” the man said, slamming the window shut.
Alberto exhaled. He wasn’t out of the woods yet, if he could crawl in the snow and round the corner of the house he might have a shot.
Edging along the side of the farmhouse, cold pain shot through his barefeet.
Teeth chattering, he’d catch a cold walking to the closest shelter. Anything was better than being shot to death.
Just a few feet away and he could make a dash for it, disappearing in the snow-capped evergreen trees that peppered the enormous front yard.
As he stepped forward, a rifle clutched in his face.
“Now, I’m only going to say this once,” the gritty bass voice said. “Move and you’re dead.”