What exactly was a lizard?
Once home, Nate did the only thing he could think to do—he went to the encyclopedias on the bookshelf and pulled out the L volume. He sat cross-legged on the floor and flipped through the pages. He wasn’t surprised to find that the only entry for “lizard” was the obvious one referring to reptiles.
“Working on a research paper?” his dad asked from the doorway. He’d just come home and was still wearing his uniform.
“Do you know what a lizard is?” Nate asked. “I mean, not like actual lizards, but when it’s used to describe a person?”
His dad crossed his arms, leaning back to look up at the ceiling. Nate recognized the expression on his dad’s face. It was the same one he’d had years earlier when Nate had asked him what a blowjob was after hearing the term at school. It meant his dad knew what the term meant, but he wasn’t sure if it was something he should share with Nate. Finally, he sighed. “A ‘lot lizard’ is what they call the girls who work the truck stops.”
Nate thought about what he knew about Cyndi. “Like, the waitresses?”
His dad shook his head. “No, not like that.” It was obvious his dad had hoped he wouldn’t have to clarify. He took a deep breath and said, “There are girls who actually work the lot, going truck to truck. They knock on the passenger side door and see if . . . well, if anybody needs some company.”
Understanding dawned, and Nate sat back, stunned. “You’re talking about hookers?”
His dad scowled. “Prostitutes.”
Nate wasn’t sure why the distinction mattered, but either way, it certainly explained Larry’s derision and Cody’s defensiveness.
“What’s this about?” his dad asked.
“Nothing, I just—”
“Are you talking about Cyndi Prudhomme?”
Nate felt as if the air had been sucked from the room. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. He wasn’t sure how to answer, but the fact that his dad, who had access to the criminal histories of Warren residents, immediately associated the term “lizard” with Cody’s mom was telling, in and of itself.
“Have you been seeing that boy Cody?”
Now Nate’s heart kicked into high speed. “Wh-what?”
“I told you back in the fall that I didn’t want you hanging around with that boy, and I meant it.”
“Dad, Cody’s not a bad kid.”
“You don’t know the things I know—”
“Like what?”
“Like—like— Things, all right? Things you don’t need to hear about.”
Was he talking about the rumors that Cody was gay? Or was there more to it than that? “Has he ever actually done anything wrong?”
“His name comes up now and then—”
“That’s not what I asked. Has he ever been convicted of anything? Has he ever actually gotten into trouble?”
“That isn’t the point.”
Nate stood up, letting the encyclopedia fall to the floor. “That is the point. Innocent until proven guilty, right?”
“He comes from a bad family.”
“His mom’s a waitress. That’s all.”
“That’s not all, and his mom’s only half of it. His dad’s in prison—”
“What? Since when?” Because he was sure Cody would have told him. He may have covered for his mom, but he wouldn’t have lied about his dad.
“Since October. He went down for vehicular homicide. He was driving drunk up in Worland and killed a woman and her two-year-old daughter.”
“That isn’t Cody’s fault! Cody hasn’t even talked to his dad in ages, and—”
“So you have been seeing him.”
It was more a statement than a question, and Nate froze, his heard pounding. He could tell his dad was furious by the slow tick in his neck and the way he clenched his jaw. Nate considered the words. “So you have been seeing him.” What would his dad think if he knew exactly how much of Cody Nate had seen, or touched, or tasted? The pleasure they shared in Cody’s bed felt like the most natural thing in the world, but his dad certainly wouldn’t see it that way.
“We’re friends,” he said, his voice shaking. His dad may disapprove, but no matter what happened, Nate wouldn’t turn his back on Cody again. Not even if it meant facing his dad’s anger. “We’re friends, and he’s not a bad kid. I don’t care what his parents have done. Cody isn’t like that. Cody—”
“Enough!” His dad took a step forward, and Nate backed away on instinct. His dad hadn’t spanked him since he was a boy. He hadn’t raised a hand to him in years, but the threat was clear. “There are plenty of other kids in this town—”