He grabbed the first keys he found, which was to Gus’ car. Thankfully, his brother lived in Nashville, Tennessee, he wouldn’t need his car much, mostly because now they knew Anna was alright he would be flying home. In fact, he told Reece he could have it years ago, the only hold out had been their pop. Well, Brian Kinney could kiss his ass. He hadn’t behaved liked a father to him in years. The only parent he had was his dad, but he was so angry with him for accepting the way he had been treated. He didn’t need any of them, fuck them all.

Before he left he only grabbed a few sets of clothes and his laptop. Now he just had to figure out where the fuck he was going. Almost everyone in his extended family was at Britin. Alex was there too, he couldn’t even face his best friend after the humiliation about Ethan. Did Ethan ever even like him or was it all about his dad? His phone rang for the twentieth time; it wasn’t the latest, greatest like his brothers had but nothing he had was.

Brain had told them from an early age they would work, no trust fund babies. But no matter how hard he worked it was never good enough. Every one of his siblings but Caleb, Sean and Avery had worked at Kinnetik, except him. It had made him think his siblings were smarter, funnier, just all around better. But finally, he finds out that his huge crime had not been bringing a strange guy to the hotel, being gay or even almost hooking up with his dad’s ex. No, his great crime had been doing all three and looking like his dad. Well, if looking like his dad was the problem, he’d just fix it, after all he already had a nose ring.

The thought about going to Liberty Avenue crossed his mind but he quickly tossed that idea out, his parents practically owned it the whole damn street or were friends with those who did.

School was out for the summer, he hadn’t found a summer job yet. He didn’t have anywhere to be for over a month. He grabbed his phone and threw it out of the window; good, dependable, predictable Reece was dead and never coming back.

“Did you reach him?” Justin asked pacing the floor.

They had sent everyone home and explained what they could to the rest of their children. Anna was safe and that was a hell of worry off his mind. But now they had another child MIA, and this one was so very angry.

“No, you should try again; he won’t answer for me,” Brian said, he looking rough.

“He’s not answering for anyone, not even Alex. He’s an adult, we should just give him time,” Justin said, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do.

“I’m going to track his phone,” Brian said, grabbing his phone.

Justin shook his head, he didn’t even know why he tried. Their family was falling apart and he had no idea how to fix it.

Anna was going to lose it when she found out what happened. If she were home she’d force herself in Gus’ car with Reece. He’d had never of gotten away.

Brian went to the location the phone was at. He found it on the side of the road, tossed away like garbage. Had Reece done that or someone else? Was Reece running or being taken? He knew the answer, Reece had just told them to fuck off in his own way. Brian picked up the phone and took it home, Justin was going to be pissed.

He knew his mind should be on Reece or Anna or what was happening in his house. But all he could think about were the pictures of his dad after the bashing. That man, Christopher Hobbs, had done that to his dad for just existing. What would he do to his own son?

Giving up on sleep, he dressed and headed for Kenyon’s car. Kenyon went to school at UCLA, so he let Matt drive it when he wanted. He did a quick search using his phone, he was able to find a home address for Christopher Mark Hobbs, owner of Hobbs Construction.

“This can’t be right,” he muttered to himself when he pulled up and parked on the other side of the street.

The truck he had spray painted had been new. It didn’t match the squalor of this home, and home was a stretch.

Shingles were missing from the roof, boards were covering one of the windows facing the street. Truthfully, it looked abandoned, maybe it was. He held onto that thought until the front door opened and the older man from the night before staggered out. He was pulling something behind him. Matt breath caught when he saw that something was the boy from last night. The man had the boy by the hair and he could see the boy struggling.

He opened the car door and stepped out. He could hear them now.

“I’m sorry, Dad, please. I don’t have anywhere to go,” the boy cried.

“You should have thought about that before you became an abomination.”

At that last second, Matt’s brain kicked in. If he was caught beating the hell out of this guy, he would get more than some petty vandalism charge. Quickly, had hid behind another truck, it looked newer than even the last.

“Mom!” the boy yelled at the open doorway.

A small, scarily thin woman appeared in the doorway. She looked at the pair with tears running down her face. “I’m sorry, Chris, I babied him too much.”

At first, Matt thought the tears were for the boy, but they weren’t they were for her son-of-a-bitch husband.

With a final shove the boy went flying back. The man turned and headed back inside, slamming the door behind him. The boy stood up and starting banging on the door.

“Please, I’ll be good, I promise,” he begged. He sounded so incredibly young.

Matt had never been so lost as what to do before. His pop and dad would know. But they were worrying about Reece, he didn’t want to add to it, telling his dad he went to his bashers house. No, he had a lot to make up with his dad, that wouldn’t help.

Still not wanting to be seen by the people in the house, he whispered, “Hey, kid.”

The boy was still banging on the door, he would never hear him. Suddenly the door opened again, revealing Cristopher Hobbs and a shotgun.

“You have exactly twenty seconds to get off my property. If not, I’ll shoot.” The door slammed back.

The banging and sobbing stopped, almost like a switch. Matt watched as the boy turned and started to walk to the street, back hunched. Just as the boy past the truck, Matt stood up. “Hey.”

The boy let out a blood-curdling scream.

“Shush, I don’t want the man coming back out here with that shotgun,” he said.

“You? You’re the one that spray painted my dad’s truck. Are you crazy, he’ll shoot you without a second thought.” The boy was shaking.

“Where are you headed?” Matt asked, deciding that pointing out the man might shoot him own son wasn’t helpful.”

He wiped his eyes. “I don’t know.”

“What about family?”

“My parents are all I have. At least its warm out. I’ll find a bench somewhere.”

“Come on,” Matt said, gesturing to the car.

“Where?”

“I know a place, I promise I’m not a serial killer.” As calm as the night had been, a clap of thunder hit. “Don’t listen to him.” He hoped to get a laugh, he didn’t.

“Summer storms are the worst, I guess I’ll risk it,” the boy said. He got into the car and buckled up.

“What’s your name?” Matt asked.

“Everyone calls me Shorty.”

“Really?” He would hate to be called Shorty, but he wasn’t short. “I’m Matt.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Matt.”

He parked on Tremont and locked the car up. His father only used the loft if he couldn’t get home for the night, or when his parents wanted to live out their wild and younger years. He tried not to vomit in his mouth at the thought. His parents were always all over each other. He used to think it was sweet if not a little embarrassing. But after so many years of anger at his dad. It would take a while to get over an affair he apparently made up in his own head.

He unlocked the door to the building and let Shorty walk past him. He was crossing his fingers that his pop hadn’t changed the alarm in the past few months. Thankfully, he hadn’t. When he slid the door shut, he heard Shorty gasp.

“Wow, you live here?” he asked in awe.

“No, this is my father’s loft. He uses it when he can’t get home.”

“You must be rich,” Shorty said looking down at this feet. He was in clothes much too big for him and his shoes were beat to hell.

“My parents both do very well; they work hard.”

“Oh, shit!” Shorty yelled, eyes going wide.

Matt saw him run to the wall where a first edition of the first issue RAGE was hanging.

“You like RAGE?”

“I love RAGE, I had some but had to get rid of them before my dad found them.”

“What’s your dad’s deal?” he asked, he didn’t want to let on who he was.

“I guess you’re expecting more than he’s an hateful, bigoted drunk?”

“If you know that, why were you trying to stay?” He didn’t understand.

“Because they’re my family.”

“When I was three my biological mother left me and my twin sister in an apartment alone. I don’t know if she was ever planning to come back. We were there days before a neighbor called the cops. Blood don’t mean shit”

“I’m sorry that’s terrible. Here I am whining about my life.”

“Look, I didn’t tell you so I could have your pity. I’ve had a great life. All I’m saying is, they may be your ‘parents’ but they aren’t your family. You make your own family.”

His phone started ringing. It was his pop.

“What?” he said gruffly.

“Why are you in my loft?”

He looked around wildly, trying to see if his dad had a camera in the loft.

“How do you know?”

“I get a notification every time someone uses the code to get in the loft. Too many sneaky kids.”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“I watched you and some kid walk in.”

Rushing over to the window, he looked down. There was his father, standing next to his own car, glaring up at him.

“It’s not what you think,” he said quickly.

“I’m coming up.” He watched his pop pocket his phone.

They were not a repressed family. His parents had the sex talk with each of them early. He’d always been open with them. Safe sex was learned early. But there were rules that should never be broken, and fucking in his pop’s loft was a big one. His father was freaky about his privacy.

“My pop is on his way up. His bark is worse that his bite.” At least to his family.

The door slid open and his pissed off father walked in.

“My loft is off limits for tricks,” he pop snapped.

“You’re a magician?” Shorty asked, excitement in his eyes. Never in his life had he wished he’d helped Maurice with his magic more.

“Uh…no. He doesn’t mean that kind of trick,” Matt told him.

Shorty blushed with embarrassment. “Oh, sorry.”

Matt wanted to make him feel better, he didn’t like how ashamed Shorty looked about his excitement at the prospect about him being a magician.

“My brother’s a magician,” he said, hoping for the smile again.

“Really? I’ve always wanted to learn. My dad wouldn’t let me, said it was evil”

“Well, your father sounds like a real peach,” his father said.

“I’m Matt’s dad, Brian Kinney.”

Shorty smiled up at his dad and held out his hand. “I’m Justin Taylor Hobbs but everyone calls me Shorty.”

Matt stood there flabbergasted, he had no idea what to say. What the hell was Hobbs playing at naming his son after his father. There had to be something missing from the story that they had told. There had to be.

Brian looked at the kid who looked about fourteen, there was no doubt he was Chris Hobbs son. He hadn’t seen it when he came in but it was clear as day now. He didn’t have Hobbs height but he had his facial features. His face wasn’t long like Hobbs and looked very feminine on him. He had to admit he was a pretty kid, not handsome but pretty. But why name his own child after Justin. What the hell was going on in Chris Hobbs’ head? He was determined to find out.