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.He spent an hour orso knocking on doors, finally finding someone who gave him the right 142 M.Kingstreet and house number.Brett parked outside, taking a second tocheck himself in the mirror.The sprawling neighborhood was mostly made up of houses builtin the 80s; they were squat and dark, crouching on scrubby lots, butthe dying sunlight turned the chain fences to gossamer and the glass inthe windows to molten gold.Brett screwed up his courage, stepped up onto the porch, andknocked on the door.After a moment, it cracked open, and the face ofa guy who looked so much like Tommy that Brett s heart leapedpeered out from behind the scratched wood. Yeah? Uh, you re Scott, right? Yeah, and if you re Wait a minute.You re him, aren t you? Scott Hawks opened the door fully, his tone hardening as he stoodbefore Brett in worn jeans and an old Grizzlies sweatshirt, a gold chainglinting at his neck.Different features, Brett realized now; the dark eyes less almond-shaped, more slanted, the chin narrower, the thick black hair croppedshort.Not so much alike at all. Yeah.It is you.Tommy s Scott appeared to be casting around for a less thancomplimentary noun, so Brett got in first. Brett, he said, simply. Brett Derwent. What d you want? I wanna help. Piss off. The door started to close in Brett s face, so he stuck his foot inthe gap.It hurt much more than he d expected. Wait! Argh& ! No, hold on.Please.I just& ouch! No one stelling me anything.Where he is, what s happening, if the lawyer sany good.I don t&. Scott glared at him from the dimness, then opened the door andleaned against the frame.He dug a packet of Marlboros from hispocket and pulled one out, looking thoughtfully at Brett. Breaking Faith 143 The County Detention Center.He got arraigned this afternoon. Already? Brett said, his voice rising in panic.He couldn t be too late.Not again.Scott nodded. Yeah.Bail s set at a hundred fifty thou, so thereain t no way we can make that.Mom s saying she wouldn t want himback here anyway, but I think that s shock talking. He fiddled withthe unlit cigarette, looking uncomfortable and avoiding Brett s eye. She s not well. I didn t know about the accident.I m& sorry. Scott grunted.Brett didn t know what to say.He took a breath. How can I see him? I dunno.Speak to the lawyer& the court-appointed one, I knowthat.I got a card somewhere. He patted his pockets and frowned. Is he any good? The lawyer? Cause I Scott shrugged. How the fuck should I know? Here. He passedBrett a dog-eared business card. I don t know.I think we have to findout about legal aid and shit, but&.Look.Brett, right? I have a motherstill not outta hospital and already on the verge of another breakdown,two shit-scared kids and a baby to worry about, plus a very pregnantfiancée in an apartment I m not going to be able to pay for because Ihave to sort out this fuckin funeral.I m really not down on mycriminal law 101 right now, okay? He stared at Brett for a moment, his mouth tight and his eyesguarded.A soft breeze bowled down the road.Scott put the unlitcigarette between his lips. It s you that had Tommy acting the way he s been this summer,right? What? Brett frowned.Did Scott somehow blame him for this?Scott shook his head. He s been& I don t know.Up, down,inside out.At first I thought he d started tweakin or something, but itwasn t that.Not even close.He looked& alive.Not just keepin hishead down and pushing through. He shifted uncomfortably from footto foot. I ve known he s queer for years.So.Um.You guys, are 144 M.Kingyou& I mean, is it, like, a thing, or are you just, y know, parkin itsomewhere? Brett wanted to laugh.Desperately.But, somehow, that didn tseem like the most sensitive reaction.Scott winced, like this physicallyhurt him. I love him, Brett said as simply and as gently as he could.Scott looked at him over the cigarette, his hands already half-cupped around the tip to light it.Relief flooded his face.And maybeeven something a little bit like admiration. Tommy says he feels the same.I&. Scott struck a flame from his lighter. Uh-huh. I don t plan on going anywhere, Brett said determinedly. Iwant to do what I can.Help.If there s a way for me to do it. Scott took the cigarette from his lips; a plume of smoke slippedfrom the corner of his mouth. All right.Well, you can tell the lawyer I said you re as good asfamily.If you, uh, need anything, call me.Um.This number, not thehouse. He took back the lawyer s card and scrawled a number on thereverse of it with a stub of pencil pulled from his pocket. You shouldgo see him at County, if they ll let you.I& I have to go.But I ll seeyou around. Thank you. Brett tucked the card into his pocket and stepped clumsily off theporch, unsure what else he d been expecting.He started to make hisway back to the Bronco. Hey, Brett! He turned.Scott leaned over the rail, cigarette in his fingers. Yeah? Would you really have gone to Canada? Sure. Brett smiled. But only while I worked out how to gethim somewhere with no extradition. Shit. Scott shook his head, a disbelieving grin on his face. Y know, he probably deserves you. I hope so, Brett called, watching him go back into the house. Breaking Faith 145The smile faded from his face as the door closed, echoing in theempty air.He couldn t keep from wondering what had happenedinside that building over the years and, with that, there came a rationalanger and a totally irrational guilt, as if he could have should haveprevented it.Brett s fingers closed on the card in his pocket.He might nothave been able to do anything before, and he wasn t even close toforgiving Tommy for keeping him in the dark, but he sure as hell coulddo something now.HILL COUNTY DETENTION CENTER fitted at least half thedescription Brett imagined when he thought of prison.The lawyer,Collins, had proved to be a complete jerk, but at least he d told Bretthow to apply for a visit.The visiting cubicle had phones either side of a thick glassviewing window, set in a bench just wide enough to lean on.Chairsstood bolted to the floor either side of the glass, the privacy panels notas wide as they really needed to be.Brett sat down and waited, awareof how the guards seemed to stand oh so close.Sweat slicked hispalms, and his pulse hummed.And then, finally, Tommy came in.He looked awful, still bruised and battered, though at leastcleaned up.He moved awkwardly, as if he was stiff and sore.Brett hadhardly closed his eyes for worrying about him; it seemed Tommyhadn t slept either.Dark circles ringed his eyes, and the orange prisonissue clothes made him look sallow and ill.Tommy sat down.Brett fumbled for the phone, holding hisbreath until the other receiver rested against Tommy s ear
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