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Wayne had met Al’s child a couple of times before the kid showed up on his doorstep. The odd Christmas or Easter gathering didn’t give him much of an idea of the kid’s personality since it was still a wee thing.
The young Munson here in front of him stood tall, maybe up to Wayne’s eyebrows, whip-thin and willowy. Big brown eyes stared out at him from a sallow face. The resemblance to Al was uncanny; it would’ve been even more so if not for the kid’s raggedy buzz cut.
He wanted to be called “Eddie”. Sure, it was something to get used to, but it wasn't the strangest thing Wayne had run into over the years. He’d met some colorful folk during a brief stint in Chicago. He even had a bit of an idea how to help.
He helped Eddie get documents, sorted out school, and—after finding Eddie passed out in the bathroom—started sending letters. He got the contact of an endocrinologist in Indianapolis. Wayne could only afford a consult, gathered information. Enough to place a request with his dealer.
Rick didn’t ask questions. Probably assumed Wayne just wanted some extra virility. Wayne didn’t care what he thought.
Two hundred milligrams every two weeks is what that doctor had said. Eddie’s voice dropped quick as a stone. He worried that he’d start to look just like his dad. Wayne told him he’d look like a Munson, and Eddie looked at him real long before saying that might not be so bad.