by J. A. Rock
John asked the question easily, without any censure or suspicion. Daniel had been asked similar questions before, but always by people trying to get him to admit he’d known what he was going to do. That he’d planned it. And Daniel wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or pissed by John phrasing it “Cooper’s death.” Not “Cooper’s murder,” just “Cooper’s death”—as though Kenny might have died of illness or in an accident. As though Daniel might not have been involved at all.
“I don’t remember,” Daniel admitted. “I wasn’t sleeping very much. And when I did sleep, I was sleepwalking. I got to where I honestly couldn’t tell when I was awake or not. And I kept seeing things. It was like I really was crazy.”
“Did you find yourself thinking about Cooper during that time? Or don’t you remember?”
Daniel hesitated. “Yeah. Sometimes. I have these—nightmares. Really bad ones. And usually I don’t remember them. But I had some the week before I set the fire that I remembered.”
“What happened in them?”
“’Bout him beating me up, I guess. Hard to even want to go to sleep, because I knew I’d see him.”
Can see him now. Shit. Don’t want to talk about this.
“And after Cooper died, did you still have those nightmares?”
“I slept fine the first two nights in jail. Slept like a fucking baby. During the days I was a wreck, but at night I was fine. Fuck!” He squeezed the arm of his chair, forcing himself to calm down. “Sorry.”
“You can say fuck in here,” John said.
“Anyway, now a lot of the dreams are about fire. Either fire or being on the ground with Kenny Cooper standing over me.” He glanced at John. “So what’s that mean?”
“What do you think it means?”
“That I’m fucked up.”
“Or maybe that you still have a lot of fear—both of what Cooper did to you and what you did to Cooper?”
“I guess.” Daniel pressed the spot on his hand where he’d dug the nail file in. It was almost healed. He wished Bel was here. Hoped Bel would fuck him rough tonight. There was even stuff he could do to himself before Bel arrived, to make sure it hurt.
“I’d like to go back to the drawing,” John said. “You said you did that mostly in college?”
“I did it some when I was younger. But yeah, college was when I did it most.”
“What did you draw?”
“Stuff in the dorm. People in my roommate’s photos. I did a still life once with his computer and a bag of chips and one of his shoes.”
John smiled. “And you’ve said you liked college?”
“I liked staying busy. College kept me pretty tired out.”
“And you had a steady boyfriend there?”
They hadn’t talked much about Marcus yet. Daniel hadn’t told John anything except that he and Marcus had dated for a couple of years. “Yeah.”
“You look like you’re thinking,” John said after a minute.
“I’m just waiting to see what you’ll ask me.”
“Is there something you hope I won’t ask you?”
Daniel snorted. “There’s a bunch of stuff I hope you won’t ask me.”
“You can tell me anything you want about Marcus. Or we can move to something else.”
John never pressed him. That was good. Daniel took a minute to gather his thoughts. “Marcus was a pretty good guy. But we wanted different things. I drew him a lot,” Daniel added, suddenly eager to change the subject back to drawing. “Well, not a lot. I didn’t draw as much when I was with Marcus, because I slept through the nights better with him. Just like I sleep better now with Bel.” He watched John warily.
John didn’t even flinch. “So it helps not to be alone?”
It helps when someone else is in charge.
“Maybe. I think it ain’t gonna last, though. Not, I mean. It’s not gonna last.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because I killed someone and I do crazy shit in my sleep and I have nightmares like a goddamn kid. And Bel doesn’t have time for that.”
John leaned back. “Bel’s told you he doesn’t have time for that?”
“N . . . no. But he’ll figure it out. He just likes to fuck me because I’m better looking than the Greenducks crowd.” John’s eyebrows rose slightly. “You said I could say fuck.”
“You really believe that?” John asked. “That’s all Bel wants from you?”
Daniel thought awhile. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “Really. I don’t know.”
* * *
When he got back to Logan, Daniel felt as tense and exhausted as he had at the end of any interview he’d been subjected to in prison. Even though John hadn’t pushed him or judged him or threatened him, he felt wrecked.
It was only one fifteen, but Daniel didn’t know if he could wait until two thirty to send Bel his text update. He’d been late last week with a text. As punishment, Bel had read him the instruction manual for the toaster that night instead of the next chapter in the thriller they’d been working through. Wouldn’t’ve been so bad, except they’d ended on a cliff-hanger the night before, and it was all Daniel could do not to beg Bel to read the book.
He’d been early once, and Bel hadn’t minded.
You could just shoot him a regular text now, then do the official text at two thirty.
But what Daniel wanted right now was the reassurance of their ritual. When Daniel and Bel texted for fun, Bel might tease him, or Bel might reply sarcastically, or Bel might even wait awhile to respond. But the two-thirty text Bel always answered right away, honestly and seriously, no matter how dumb Daniel’s update was.
Daniel got into his car and pulled out his phone.
Hi, Bel, it’s Daniel. He paused. For all his impatience to text Bel, he didn’t have anything in particular he wanted to say. He typed: I don’t know anymore.
And hit Send.
He buckled his seat belt, feeling guilty. He didn’t want to worry Bel. Fuck, what if Bel thought Daniel meant he didn’t know anymore about seeing Bel?
Was that what he meant? He wanted to keep seeing Bel more than anything. And yet it was so obviously a bad idea. It’s gonna hurt him, in the long run, to be associated with me.
He picked up his phone to text Bel again, but before he could, the phone buzzed. A text from Bel.
Taking my break by the river in 15. Near the launch. Meet me there?
Daniel’s stomach clenched. He wanted to see Bel, but he was nervous that might mean more talking. Hadn’t he done enough of that with John? He’d basically come out and told John he was sleeping with Bel, for Christ’s sake. But why had he texted Bel, then, if he didn’t want to talk? If he wasn’t looking for a little reassurance?
He drove to the river, stopping briefly at Harnee’s, where he ignored the clerk’s stare and bought two glazed donuts.
I got as much right to be here as you, asshole.
Bel was on a bench near the canoe launch. He grinned when he saw Daniel, and for a second Daniel’s worry vanished. He smiled back and hurried over to Bel.
Bel stood and hugged him, and Daniel flushed with pleasure and just a little bit of fear. There wasn’t anyone around, but there could have been. Fuck it. Daniel squeezed him back.
“C’mon,” Bel murmured. “Let’s take a walk.”
They walked down river a ways until they found a secluded spot—all sunlight and warm grass and patches of shade, the water sparkling in front of them. Bel sat and patted the ground beside him. They took off their shoes. “What’s up?”
“Got you this,” Daniel said shyly, holding the Harnee’s bag out to Bel.
Bel took it and peeked inside. Grinned again. “I ain’t some cop stereotype, you know.”
Daniel laughed. “I just know you like donuts.”
“I do. There’s two here, so you gotta eat one.”
“All right.” Daniel reached into the bag. “We’ll eat ’em at the same time. Last one to finish has to fuck the other on
e tonight.” Daniel began cramming the donut into his mouth.
Bel threw back his head and guffawed. “In that case, I’ll savor mine.” He cuffed Daniel playfully on the back of the head. “Wish I was in that tight ass right now.”
Me too.
Daniel finished first then sat watching Bel. As soon as Bel was done, Daniel reached out, grabbed Bel’s wrist, and guided Bel’s hand to his mouth. He sucked the glaze off each of Bel’s fingers, and though Bel laughed at first, by the time Daniel reached his ring finger, he was breathing harshly, his gaze locked with Daniel’s.
Daniel slowly released Bel’s hand, still staring at him. He had a vision of lying by this river years ago, and of the skinny kid whose shoulders were starting to broaden, dripping river water. “You coming in?”
“Take your clothes off,” Daniel said softly.
Bel looked uncertain. “Might get a call.”
“Or you might not.” Daniel leaned forward and kissed him, unbuttoning Bel’s uniform shirt. Bel undid his own fly while Daniel worked, and slid his pants down. Kicked them off.
“What about you?” Bel asked. He nipped Daniel’s upper lip.
“Undress me.” Daniel finished sliding Bel’s shirt off, then lay back on the grass while Bel removed his own undershirt, then bent over Daniel and pulled Daniel’s T-shirt up. He licked and kissed Daniel’s stomach until Daniel squirmed. Tugged Daniel’s shirt over his head and tossed it aside.
He stuck his hand down Daniel’s pants and rubbed his cock. Daniel arched into the touch, lost in a haze of pleasure. Let Bel roll him onto his stomach. A blade of grass went up Daniel’s nose, and he almost sneezed. Bel pulled his hips up, reaching under him to unsnap his fly. Yanked Daniel’s pants off so hard Daniel got grass burn.
Daniel lay there in just his boxers, his hard cock pressing into the warm earth. When he didn’t feel Bel’s hands on him again, he rolled onto his side.
Bel had stood and was stepping out of his briefs. Daniel couldn’t do much more than stare, admiring the hard planes and ropy muscles of Bel’s body. The sunlight hit his skin and gave it a warm flush. Bel’s cock was full and thick, surrounded by dark hair.
“Well?” Bel cocked an eyebrow at him. “You coming in?”
Daniel slipped off his boxers and stood. He followed Bel to the bank. They waded out together until the water was up to their chests. The surface of the water was warm, but below were cold pockets. Daniel treaded closer to Bel until their legs brushed. Put his arms around Bel, and they shared a long, soft kiss.
“What don’t you know?” Bel whispered when they parted.
“Huh?”
“Your text.”
“Oh. Just a little confused, I guess.”
“Happens,” Bel said, kissing him again.
Daniel watched a drip of water fall from Bel’s chin. Bel had pretty eyes. Bel and Daniel didn’t spend enough time outdoors for Daniel to have figured out what those eyes looked like filled with sunlight. They were brown with specks of gold. And they were kind.
It had been a long time since anyone had looked at Daniel like they wished good things for him.
“Sometimes it feels like it’d be easier to be like I was before than to try to figure all this out.”
“What’s all this?” Bel asked.
Daniel held Bel tighter. Don’t leave. Don’t hate me.
“Bein’ alive again, I guess. Not spending every moment of the day thinking about how I’m gonna keep myself from doing anything in my sleep.” He paused. “Figuring out how to make this my town again.”
Bel pressed his chest to Daniel’s. His teeth grazed Daniel’s jaw. “You’re doin’ all right, far as I can see. You really think it was easier, locking yourself up every night?”
Daniel shook his head. “This is tough in a different way.”
“Don’t think so hard,” Bel suggested. He smiled. “Let’s just be here.”
He kissed the tip of Daniel’s nose, then released Daniel, dove under the water, and swam away. Daniel had a moment of panic watching him go. He swam after Bel, catching him in a few strokes. Bel rolled onto his back as Daniel surfaced beside him. “You’re fast.”
“I know.” Daniel pounced on him, and they wrestled for a few minutes in the water. Bel laughed so hard, so uninhibitedly, that he got Daniel going, and soon they were both out of breath. Bel found a clump of riverweed and set it on top of Daniel’s head. “There. You look perfect.” Daniel shook his head and sent the weed flying onto Bel’s chest with a wet slap. That set them both laughing again.
From the bank, Bel’s radio crackled and a woman’s voice came through.
“Fuck,” Bel said, paddling toward the bank. He climbed out, dripping, his ass flexing as he scrambled for the radio. Daniel got out slowly and knelt on the grass. Watched Bel pull on his clothes. Saw Bel’s socks lying there all balled up and grabbed them.
“It’s this lady’s fucking dog,” Bel told Daniel, rolling his eyes. “It gets out every couple of weeks and digs up the neighbor’s flowers, and the neighbor calls the cops. Complete waste of time, but I gotta go give her another warning.” He looked around—probably, Daniel imagined, for his socks. “Where the hell . . .?” He looked back at Daniel, who tried not to smile.
“What’s behind your back?” he demanded.
“Nothing,” Daniel said innocently. He was kneeling naked on the bank with his hands behind his back, Bel watching him, and it felt perfect.
“Show me your hands.”
Daniel dropped the socks on the ground behind him and held up his hands. “See?”
Bel darted around him. Daniel grabbed the socks and tried to turn to keep them hidden from Bel, but he ended up sprawling.
“Whitlock, you devil,” Bel said, reaching down to snatch up the socks.
Daniel lay on his side, snickering. Yelped in surprise when Bel swatted his bare ass. The blow barely stung, and yet it sent heat through Daniel’s entire body.
“I can’t take you anywhere.”
Daniel sat up and gazed at Bel. “Wish you could take me everywhere.”
Bel looked thoughtful. “C’mere,” he said.
Daniel scrambled up. Bel reached out and trailed his fingers down Daniel’s chest. Daniel held still. He did wish he could go places with Bel. Wished he wasn’t so freaked out about spending time in town.
“Put your clothes on. And then I got an idea.”
Daniel dressed, aware the whole time of Bel’s gaze on him. Bel had put on his shoes but stuffed the socks in his pocket. Now he held out his hand. Daniel took it and they walked back toward the launch. When they got closer to the parking area, Bel let go of Daniel, and Daniel followed him over to the cruiser. Bel glanced around, making sure they were alone. “Hands behind your back,” he said softly.
Daniel crossed his wrists behind his back.
“Turn around.”
Daniel turned to face the car, reveling in the warmth of Bel’s body behind him, at how his muscles ached—from laughing, he realized—at the way the sun was pulling the moisture from his clothes. He felt something soft around his wrists. One of Bel’s socks. Daniel tried to ignore his stiffening cock as Bel bound him. “You want to ride with me?” Bel asked.
“Yeah,” Daniel whispered, tugging at the sock, still not sure what was going on. Bel opened the back of the cruiser.
“Get in. Lie down on the seat.”
Bel kept a hand on him to steady him so he didn’t fall as he climbed in. Daniel lay curled on the seat with his arms tied behind his back, his heart quick, too quick—everything too quick for a second. He took a deep breath. He was Bel’s. Bel had bound him, and now all Daniel had to do was be still and listen to Bel. He spent so much time out of control, doing bad things, that it was a relief to find moments like this, where he could show that he could control himself. Could behave. Bel shut the door and got in behind the wheel. Threw a look back at Daniel. “Now, you understand, if I gotta put anyone back there for real, you better be ready to get the hell out.”<
br />
Daniel grinned. “Okay, Bel.”
“But seeing as it’s not likely to be anything more than loose dogs and speeding tickets today, you can stay back there till my shift ends. Long as you’re quiet.”
“Yes, Bel.”
Bel shook his head. Turned the key and put the car in reverse. “Whitlock, I’ve mentioned you’re pretty damned incredible, right?”
Daniel didn’t answer. Incredible seemed like the last thing he was. But Bel was in charge, so who was Daniel to argue? His smile broadened, and he closed his eyes.
15
Bel slipped into Greenducks and ordered a cheap draft beer. He didn’t really want it, but he needed something to kill the time until Daniel was free. He sat nursing the beer until the basement started to fill. All the usual suspects—Larry Hilton, Martin Ferris, Bob Locke. The guy with the receding hairline; Bel could never remember his name, but everyone called him Stubbs. Matt Lister showed up. Biggest tweaker of them all; his uncle used to have a meth lab outside of town. And then Jake Kebbler.
They’d all been wary of Bel when he’d started coming into Greenducks every once in a while. Now they tolerated him, though they rarely acknowledged him beyond a nod. It was an unspoken rule—you didn’t tell who you’d seen at Greenducks. Even if you saw a cop, or your doctor, or Jim Hines, the lawyer with a wife and three kids who made a big show of voting Republican. There were guys the whole town knew sucked dick, and there were guys who passed for straight. But even if you were one of the obvious homos, one of the guys who had nothing to lose by admitting you’d been at Greenducks—you didn’t tell on anyone else.
Bel kept an eye on the group until Larry waved at him.
“Belman,” Jake called cheerfully.
Bel nodded.
Jake and Larry turned back to each other and talked in low voices. There was a bark of laughter from Jake. Bel sipped his beer. Jesus, he hated Greenducks at the best of times, but lately he’d been getting strange looks from people at the Shack, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what that was about. Daniel. He’d hoped he’d get a reprieve in Greenducks.
It was Daniel’s sister’s birthday, and he was at a family dinner. Bel could only imagine how that was going. He was irrationally jealous of the claim a bunch of strangers suddenly had on Daniel. Because that’s what they were, weren’t they? Strangers. Bel may have known the Whitlocks a little growing up, but the only thing he knew now that counted was they treated Daniel like shit. Bel hadn’t tried to talk Daniel out of going to the dinner or anything, but privately, he thought Daniel was setting himself up for trouble. Yet Daniel had seemed tentatively pleased to be invited to the dinner. He’d promised to text Bel when he was done.
