“Just what do you want?” he said.
“Are you the boss here?” Buddy Lee asked. The man ignored him, but the woman with the dreads responded.
“No, he isn’t. I’m Amelia Watkins. I’m the managing editor. What can I do for you gentlemen?” Amelia said. She was studying their faces, but Buddy Lee noticed her left hand was under the desk.
“Before you pull that heater, we ain’t here for no trouble,” he said. Amelia pursed her lips.
“So you say. It’s a dangerous time to be a journalist. Especially if you work for a nonprofit that focuses on the LGBTQ community,” she said. Her voice was deep and vibrant. It made Buddy Lee think of a blues singer he’d heard in Austin years ago.
“I’m Ike Randolph. This here is Buddy Lee Jenkins,” Ike said. Amelia stood and walked around her desk. She was nearly as tall as Ike, but slim and toned. Her dreads fell to the small of her back.
“You’re Isiah’s father.”
“Yes, I am. And Buddy is Derek’s father. Is there someplace we can talk?”
“Sure, let’s go downstairs to the coffee shop.”
Amelia took her coffee black and she drank it fast. Buddy Lee wished he had some whiskey to pour in his cup. Ike didn’t get anything. Amelia crumpled the coffee cup and tossed it in the wastebasket four feet away. It swished through the air and into the wastebasket. Nothing but net.
“You play ball?” Ike asked.
“Isn’t that just too clichéd? The lesbian plays basketball. But yeah, I like to play. I went to college on a scholarship.”
“Isiah could ball,” Ike said.
“Yeah, he had a wicked outside shot.”
“I could never figure out how he could be that way and be so good at sports,” Ike said.
Amelia laughed but it was bereft of mirth. “You think because he was gay he should have been knitting scarves?”
Ike drummed his fingers on the table. “I don’t know. I never could … I didn’t understand why he was like that. It caused problems between us.”
“I know. He told me,” Amelia said.
“He did?” Ike asked.
“We traded coming-out stories when he first came on board. You and my dad would have gotten along famously. You both think our sexuality is something that has to be explained. It isn’t. It’s just who we are. It wasn’t Isiah being gay that caused problems between the two of you. It was how you dealt with it or didn’t deal with it that caused the problems,” Amelia said.
Ike blinked hard. “It … it wasn’t that simple.”
Amelia shrugged. “If you say so. At least you still spoke to Isiah. My dad hasn’t talked to me since my junior year in high school,” Amelia said.
“No offense, but we ain’t here for a therapy session. We want to ask you about a death threat his boy got last year,” Buddy Lee said. Ike stared daggers at him, but Buddy Lee just shrugged.
“Oh yes, the Blue Anarchists,” Amelia said.
“The what?” Buddy Lee said.
“The Blue Anarchists. A bunch of extreme progressives who favor throwing bottles and Molotov cocktails over constructive discourse. I think they are just a bunch of overprivileged hipster assholes jumping on the next subversive bandwagon. Back when I was in school they would have been goths,” Amelia said.
“Don’t sound like you took them too serious.” Ike said. Amelia opened her hands and shimmied her shoulders.
“They were pissed because Isiah wrote a piece calling them out on their transphobia and bullshit rhetoric. We all thought it was just them blowing off some steam, but we reported it anyway. Better safe than sorry,” Amelia said.
“So you don’t think they could have done it?” Buddy Lee asked.
“My gut says no, but who knows? People are crazy these days. We’re working on a piece right now about Isiah and Derek and all the queer people who have been murdered so far this year.”
“There’s a lot of that going on?” Buddy Lee asked.
“Murders of gay and bisexual men are up four hundred percent since last year. It seems like somebody made hatred hip again,” Amelia said.
“Where do these Blue Anarchists hang out?” Ike asked. Amelia motioned for the waitress. A young Asian woman brought her another cup.
“Their headquarters are a head shop in Glen Allen. I can give you the address. Listen, I’m pretty sure they’re just a bunch of spoiled kids,” Amelia said.
“How’d you get their address?” Ike asked.