by Krista Wolf
We’d spent all of today at a local farm, relocating a large shed. Stripping it all the way down to the studs, moving the base, and then rebuilding it again. It was shit work, but it paid in cash. And unlike the stuff we were doing at the castle, at least it paid.
“You should’ve told me,” I said angrily. “You could’ve asked for help.”
“Why?” Chase blurted. “Did you have it?”
My mouth curled bitterly into an admission of truth. “No, but I would’ve found it. Mrs. Fletcher still owes us five hundred for doing her roof. We could’ve hit her up for—”
“Mrs. Fletcher doesn’t have a pot to piss in,” said Chase. “Sweet old lady, but she’s broke and you know it.”
I shook my head, unable to argue. “Still, we could’ve put something together. Or maybe we could’ve gone to see him, or—”
“Going to see him is a bad idea,” Chase spat.
“Why?”
He finished his water and fired the glass across the small room. It hit the opposite wall and shattered, joining the rest of the debris in the center of our living room.
“Because the next time I see Killian I’m going to rip his fucking face off,” Chase spat.
Twenty-One
MADISON
“So yeah, this is why she doesn’t sleep alone,” said Julian. “Not anymore. Agreed?”
Noah and Chase nodded their heads quickly and definitively, after the stonemason’s little speech. He’d just got done going over the events of last night. Detailed everything from the overall eeriness of my nighttime visitor, to our failed foot-chase.
“And that’s where he — I mean it — disappeared?”
Chase was pointing directly into the forest. Julian had led us out here, to the edge of the field. Right at the spot where the intruder had vanished into the trees.
“I chased it a good hundred yards through there, until the path disappeared,” Julian acknowledged. “It was dark. I couldn’t see, and I couldn’t fit.”
My other two lovers peered curiously into the dense undergrowth. Even in the daylight, the forest was thick with shade and shadow.
“Alright then,” said Noah. “The three of us take turns crashing here.”
Julian nodded. “I’d stay every night if I could,” he said. “But I have… obligations.”
Chase’s expression broke into a white-toothed grin. “Obligations?” He laughed. “That’s a little mysterious, no?”
The stonemason appeared a bit uncomfortable. He scratched at the back of his neck for a moment, then sighed.
“Okay, I have a cat.”
All three of us blinked.
“You?” said Noah. “You have a cat?”
“Yeah,” Julian said, posturing up. “You have a problem with that?”
Noah put up both hands and chuckled. “No, no. Not at all. I just… I never figured you for a cat person.”
“What’s it name?” asked Chase. “I’ll bet it’s something cool and tough, like ‘Spike’ or ‘Brutus’. Or maybe—”
“It’s not my cat,” said Julian defensively. “Well, it wasn’t mine to begin with, but now…”
“Beast,” said Noah, chiming in. “Savage. Sparticu--”
“Conan!” Chase exclaimed. “Oh man, please tell me its name is Conan! Even if it isn’t, just lie to me about—”
“Leave him alone,” I jumped in finally. I laid a hand on each of their chests, pushing Chase and Noah back a half step. “So the man has a cat. Big fucking deal.”
“A cat person…” Noah left off, shaking his head. “Man, in a million years I never would’ve figured…”
“The point is,” Julian said, “whatever or whoever it was, they’ll probably be back. This wasn’t the first time she saw it.”
“What’s through there anyway?” Noah asked. He was still staring into the forest, as if trying to make sense of it.
“Woods, woods, and more woods,” I said. “The property is huge. Forty-eight acres.”
“Actually, woods, woods, and after that, the old paddock.”
The three of us turned on Chase, who’d just spoken. He was rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
I squinted at him. “Is it?”
“Yeah. You’re still renting the stables out, right? To what is it… a riding school?”
“It used to be,” I said. “Now it’s just a bunch of horses being kept in the stalls. One of the old owners pays me to rent the property, and he takes care of about two dozen animals over there.”
“I know,” he said. “I go there sometimes, to pet the horses.”
I found myself suddenly staring at Chase with all new eyes. A vision of him standing there, his hand against a horse’s face, made my heart melt a little.
“You do?”
“Yeah. The guy that runs it lets me feed them sometimes.”
“Nolan,” I confirmed. “Old guy. Crazy, wiry white hair?”
Chase laughed. “That’s him.”
Julian started pulling on his gloves, a signal that it was time to get to work. He’d already done two hours of stone-setting, just after sunup. Since our chase through the field last night, we hadn’t gone back to sleep.
“Alright, then,” said Noah. “All that remains is deciding who gets to stay tonight.” He looked at Chase and pulled out a bronze-colored coin. “Heads or tails?”
“I’ll call it in the air.”
Noah flipped, and Chase called. After slapping the coin on the back of his hand and revealing it dramatically, Noah’s mouth curled into a frown.
“You win,” he conceded. “You stay first. I’ll take tomorr—”
“You could both stay if you wanted,” I offered abruptly.
The guys looked at me slyly, each with his own grin. All of a sudden I realized what they were smiling at.
“That’s not what I meant,” I said quickly. My skin was flush. My face, I knew, was turning two shades redder. “I— I mean, I was just saying—”
“Might want to leave it at that,” Chase winked merrily.
We walked back through the field together, each thinking our own thoughts. After Julian peeled off in the direction of the curtain wall, Noah slid his hand into mine.
“Come with me,” he said coolly. “You and I are taking a ride.”
“A ride? Where?”
Turning on his heel, he pulled me in the direction of his truck.
“Somewhere important.”
Twenty-Two
MADISON
“Camping?” I laughed. “We’re going camping?”
Noah was still holding my hand, only now we were in the heart of Tranent, in the dead center of a sporting goods store. Propane stoves and lanterns hung from display racks. We were surrounded by tents in every direction.
We’d been there for almost ten minutes already, searching the aisles. In typical guy fashion, Noah steadfastly refused to ask any of the sales associates for help.
“Exactly what are you looking for?” I asked, for the third time. “Maybe I can hel—”
“Ah ha!” he cried abruptly. “Here we go.”
He plucked something down from one of the shelves. It was the size of a phone book, and just as thick. Its surface was covered in drab green camouflage.
“What the—”
“Trail camera!” he declared triumphantly.
I stared back at Noah, still trying to understand. All I could see were full, kissable lips on a tan, masculine face. His strong, sexy jawline, all covered with light blond stubble…
“Your smile is beautiful and all,” I told him, “but I still need a little help here.”
His hazel eyes glimmered with life. I was getting distracted…
“It’s a hunter’s camera,” he explained, turning the object over in his hands. “You strap it to a tree, and it takes pictures of wildlife.”
I could see a round lens on the front. Two thin slots on the back. A second or two later, realization dawned over me.
“You mean…”
“Yes. We set it up at t
he edge of the field, and we find out who’s been harassing you.”
I grabbed the thing from him in excitement. It was a lot lighter than I expected it to be.
“How does it know when to take photos?” I gasped.
“It’s got motion sensors.”
“And where do the—”
“On an SD card. Loaded in back.”
He pushed his thumb against a tiny compartment, and I heard an audible click. A little panel opened, revealing a tiny slot.
“They’ve got memory cards over there,” he pointed. “Just over your shoulder.”
Ten minutes later we had a trail camera all picked out, and a card with enough memory to store hundreds of photos if necessary. But all I really needed was one.
“This was a damned brilliant idea,” I told him excitedly, while standing in line to pay. “Thanks.”
“No thanks needed,” smiled Noah.
Before I knew it he was already paying, and waving away my credit card. I protested, over and over again, but he insisted.
“It’s nothing,” he said as we left the store. “Besides,” he added confidentially, looking over his shoulder. “I’ll just return it when we’re done with it. Get a refund, after we’ve caught that peeping Tom asshole that keeps trying to mess with you.”
“It’s not nothing,” I protested again. “It’s definitely something. And thank you.”
“You can thank me by buying lunch,” he said, taking my hand again.
We walked back to his truck, then past it, and straight into a nearby cafe. Noah asked the hostess for an outdoor table. He chose one with a beautiful view of Tranent’s historic city square, but also one that was still in the shade.
“This restaurant,” he said, “was one of the first places Chase and I ever ate, when we came over from the States.”
I nodded toward the sporting goods store. “Is that how you knew about the trail cameras?”
“Nah. I knew about those from my grandfather. He used to take me hunting.”
“In Brooklyn?” I laughed. “What did you hunt, pigeons?”
“No, wise-ass.” Noah smirked sardonically. “He had a tiny shitbox cabin. A couple of hours upstate.”
Two very tall, very cold iced-teas arrived, and we ordered a little food. Noah declared he wanted to eat fast, though. He didn’t want to leave Chase alone, in case he ‘screwed up more things than he fixed’.
We settled back and relaxed a bit, enjoying that perfect stretch of time when morning finally gave itself over to afternoon. Noah eyed me over his glass, sizing me up. I on the other hand, had questions of my own.
“So you lived in Brooklyn,” I said, “and you hunted upstate sometimes. From what I gather, you’re a New Yorker, through and through.”
“Yup,” he sipped.
“So then tell me,” I asked. “How does a nice guy like you end up all the way over on this side of the pond?”
Noah let the straw drop from his gorgeous lips. He leaned forward a little, setting his elbows on the table like he was about to tell me a secret.
“That’s a very long, very sad story,” he said.
I cocked my head. “Sad?”
“Unfortunately yes.”
I sipped my iced-tea, staring back. Trying to read the impassivity that had suddenly made its way across his beautiful face.
“Well I’m a very good listener,” I declared, leaning forward myself. “So try me.”
Twenty-Three
MADISON
“It all started at seventeen,” Noah said, slowly stirring his drink with his straw. “Like most kids, we’d convinced ourselves we were bored. We had the whole City at our feet, and could’ve done anything we wanted.”
He paused, and I could see his eyes unfocus as he looked back. He was staring silently back through time, to a place that no longer existed.
“Well… for some reason, we wanted to steal cars.”
I listened attentively, as our food arrived. The waiter arranged our plates in front of us, but neither of us moved to eat a thing.
“It started off stupid really, like most things,” Noah continued. “Posturing. Joyriding. Seeing which of us could swipe the hottest ride.” He shrugged non-comittally. “It was a dick-measuring contest with no real winners. But it was thrilling to us. At least for a while.”
Noah reached down and grabbed a french fry. Or rather, a ‘chip.’ They covered them with salt and vinegar here, unless you asked them not to. As an American, it was just one of the things you learned to do right away.
“Anyway, it escalated when Tech started using our stolen rides to rob places.”
“Tech?”
“Yeah, that was his nickname. We all had nicknames. Shit, I don’t even remember what his real name was.”
I wanted to ask his own nickname, but I didn’t want to detract from Noah’s story. I decided to stay silent.
“Anyway, I wasn’t into that. The robbing places, I mean. Stealing wasn’t my thing. It just felt… wrong to me.”
“But you were stealing cars,” I had to point out.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “I see that now. Back then though, I looked at it more like borrowing. People always got their rides back, usually within a day or so. Sometimes a little worse for wear…”
He paused again and shook his head. “Okay, most times a little worse for wear. We rode those things hard. But yeah. Like I said, I wasn’t into the whole robbery thing.”
Noah continued eating as he told his story, one french fry at a time. I followed his lead, working slowly on my salad. It had stuff in it I didn’t like — those bitter, frilly greens they always seemed to put in everything — but I ate it anyway.
“So what happened?”
“What happened was I thought I was hot shit,” Noah sneered. “I drove for a robbery. Somehow I convinced myself that I wasn’t involved, I was only behind the wheel.”
“And you got caught?” I asked.
“No. They got caught. The two guys I was with.”
I watched as Noah sunk his spoon into his cottage pie. Steam rose up, thick and fragrant. The inside of the thing looked to be about a thousand degrees.
“They stayed in too long,” he said. “Never heeded their own advice about silent alarms. The police showed up and nailed them both. When I saw the two of them handcuffed, I took off.”
“And then you got caught?” I guessed playfully.
“I wish.”
His statement was as ominous as it was perplexing. For the next several moments I just watched him eat, first blowing on each bite, then shoving the minced beef into his mouth.
“That any good?”
“Actually yeah,” he said. “Best cottage pie I’ve had since I’ve been over here.”
I smiled broadly. “Which brings me back to the question…”
“How’d I get over here?” he chuckled. “Yeah, I was getting around to that.”
Noah wiped his brow — apparently the meat was spicy — and took another hit from his iced-tea, which was almost gone.
“I drove,” he said finally. “I drove like a fucking demon. The police chased me from Ditmas Avenue down to Seaview, then back up one-hundred-and-eighth street. I must’ve lost three of them,” he said proudly. “Maybe four. But the last one… he stuck on me. He was good. Almost as good as me.”
I pictured him behind the wheel, just a teenager. Racing around in some powerful ride, before he even had the privilege of a driver’s license. It was scary. Scary but also stupid, just as he said.
“Anyway I got to the Marina,” Noah said. “I made a series of very quick turns, and I thought I lost him. But then I looked up… and there he was. The asshole had doubled back, and pulled his squad car across the middle of the road in front of me. I was going too fast to avoid it…”
I shuddered, thinking about what happened. Realizing now the whole story had just gotten a lot more serious than before.
“I swerved to the right,” he said. “Hard. As hard as I could, really.
I got around him and I got away, and I drove for another ten minutes before ditching the car and ducking into the nearest subway station.”
Relief flooded through me. “That’s good, no?”
“I clipped his bumper,” Noah went on. “Just a little bit, but enough to rip it off the front of his car. That’s what did it. He was embarrassed. Totally uninjured, but humiliated that I’d beaten him.”
“Who?”
“The officer who showed up at my house the next day,” he said. “The one who’d chased me. The one who’d been tipped off by the two guys I was driving for, who’d given me up for practically nothing.”
“But he was fine, right? Physically?”
“Vehicular assault on an officer,” Noah murmured. “That’s what they gave me.”
I saw him stiffen at the words. Like he was feeling the stab of hearing them for the first time, all over again.
“Wait… that’s bullshit. He pulled right out in front of your car!”
“Sure did,” Noah confirmed. “But the judge wouldn’t hear it. I got four years. Served three of them up in Elmira. Another eight and a half months in Coxsackie Correctional Facility, with an early release.”
His voice grew so heavy, I had to lower my eyes. It didn’t make any sense.
“Holy shit, Noah. I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, me too.”
He pushed his plate away. I did the same. Not only because my salad was terrible, but because I could see we were just about done.
“When I got out, I went back to the old neighborhood,” he finished. “I sat down on the curb, took a deep breath, and looked around for a good solid hour. I had my freedom finally, but there was nobody there. No one I recognized, no one I knew anymore.”
I nodded gravely. “Everything changes.”
“You got that right.”
I wanted to hold him. To slide my arms around him, and make him forget the troubles of his past. But he still hadn’t told me. He still wasn’t finished.
“The second my probation was up, I got my passport straight. Then I went down to the docks, and signed onto the first transatlantic freighter I could. Cargo containers. Hard work.” He turned to look at me again. “That’s where I met Chase. The two of us hit it off together, as deckhands. I saw a lot of myself in him. He was a slightly younger version of me, making all the same stupid mistakes.”
