by P. A. Brown
“Noodling?”
“That’s another one you won’t find in Webster’s.” Chris draped himself over David. “Like this.”
“All day?”
Chris nuzzled his ear. “Can you think of a reason why not?”
David pretended to think until Chris smacked him. He grunted and rolled over, ending up on top of Chris.
“As enjoyable as that might be, I still have work to do. That BeRMudA heAt 29
doesn’t stop even if I do retire.”
“I already talked to Becky. She can take over my clients anytime.”
“Good. It’s not formal, but I shouldn’t have any problem getting the time off.”
“I’d like to see them try to deny it.”
David gave Chris a look that shut him up before he could launch into his usual argument. David grabbed a robe out of the closet and slipped it on. “How about a drink at Abbey’s?”
“Fine, I’ll check my email and tie up some loose ends at Pharmaden. No sense getting there till after ten.”
Ten minutes later David came down and Chris trotted upstairs to take his own shower. After carefully shaving his face and chest, he moussed his hair. He donned his newest jeans and a skin hugging T-shirt. He knew he looked hot. It was always important for him to look good, but tonight called for some extra attention to detail. It wasn’t every day your husband talked about retiring.
He linked arms with David. “Don’t we make one gorgeous couple?”
“Right, a regular Matt Damon and Ben Affleck.”
“Ha, we outdo that pair.”
They took David’s car. He was finally nearing the end of refurbishing it and he took any chance to show off his handiwork.
The yellow and white ‘56 Chevy coupe had occupied nearly eight years of his life, but everyone agreed it was cherry. Chris was still a little irked that David had insisted on paying for all the repairs himself. But it was David’s baby and he wanted to do it on his own, just like he insisted on only using legitimate parts instead of knockoffs, even if he had to wait months to find them.
Chris settled into his regular spot in the middle of the newly refinished bucket seat, resting his hand on David’s knee.
At Abbey’s, David insisted on sitting in the darkest corner of the club. Even then the waiter stared until Chris gave him a 30 P.A. Brown
dirty look and he went away to hassle someone else. He probably thought Chris had inflicted David’s black eye, which might have been amusing if Chris hadn’t known the real reason behind it.
Back home David caught the tail end of a John Wayne movie.
Chris grabbed two beers out of the fridge and joined David.
During one of the commercials, Chris told David about his unsuccessful web trolling.
“Interesting history,” David said, barely taking his eyes off the TV as the commercial ended. “I’m not sure if I know of anyone who actually went there.”
“It’s pricey.”
“People want to go to the Caribbean, they hit the Bahamas.”
“It’s not in the Caribbean. It’s actually on the same latitude as South Carolina.”
David took his gaze off the screen. “Last time I looked, Carolina didn’t have palm trees. Don’t they have them in Bermuda?”
“The Gulf Stream keeps it warm all year round.”
“Interesting.” He reached over and took Chris’s hand.
“You’re really looking forward to this, aren’t you? Why?”
For you, he wanted to say. Instead he shrugged. “I think we could both use a vacation. Since our honeymoon, we haven’t gone anywhere. It’ll be nice to have some ‘us’ time.”
“As long as you promise to rest.”
“Cross my heart.”
ChAPteR Five
Monday, 7:10am, Cove Avenue, Silverlake, Los Angeles The next morning they lingered over coffee.
“I want to stop in New Hampshire on our way,” David said, not meeting Chris’s eyes. “Since we’ll be on the east coast we can swing by there. I can add a couple of days to my time off. Before the real vacation starts.”
Chris wasn’t fooled by David’s casual remark. He knew damned well what he meant. David meant to see his parents.
To confront his mother about her deception? That was like David. He wasn’t one to slink quietly away from a problem, no matter who it would benefit. Or who it might hurt. He was straightforward in his life and honest to a fault, and he expected the same from others. To find out his own mother was involved in such a monstrous lie must have devastated him, although David would die before he ever showed that.
Chris couldn’t see any good coming from the side trip.
“You sure that’s a good idea?”
“Why not?” David spooned some yogurt into his bowl and topped it with strawberries and granola. “I’d like to see Graham again.”
But not his mother? Right. Why not? “Sure,” he said, still uneasy. “We can trade the tickets in for new ones. How long do you want to stay at your parents?”
“A couple of days. That ought to be enough, don’t you think?”
“David—”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be civilized.”
Chris sincerely hoped so. He knew David was not going to argue about it. They were going to New Hampshire and that was that.
32 P.A. Brown
Friday 8:35am, Delta Terminal, LAX, World Way, Los Angeles The cab pulled up to the Delta terminal. The cabbie helped haul their luggage out of the trunk. David grabbed a cart and loaded everything onto it. Chris kept his laptop case as his carry-on luggage while David kept a small bag with their personal affects and his reading material.
As usual he had packed twice as much as David. He had also been shopping. He wore a new Banana Republic T-shirt and pair of Bruno Pieters jeans. David was afraid to ask how much it had all cost. He knew Chris was getting the reaction he wanted as people were turning to look at him, men and women. His beauty was like a jolt of ice water on a hot day and it always took David’s breath away when he least expected it.
They towed everything inside and checked in.
They had barely strapped in when Chris turned to him, the look of determination on his face telling David the time for equivocation was past. He still tried anyway.
“I want to talk about this retirement plan of yours.”
“Sure, we’ll talk, I promise, but I’d rather do it after this trip.”
“Don’t I get a say in this?”
“Of course. I’d never do anything this major without consulting you.”
“Consulting? That’s pretty damned insulting, don’t you think?
We’re supposed to be a couple. Partners. That’s a lot more than a consultation.”
“Okay, bad choice of words.” David reached over and captured Chris’s hand where it lay knotted in his lap. He squeezed the white knuckles. “But I do need to think about it. Face it, it’ll be a big change for both of us. I want to know I feel good about it before we talk it over. I want to have a chance to consider the ramifications.”
Chris wasn’t mollified. “And I’m a part of that life, whether you like it or not. I know you’ve always tried to shield me from BeRMudA heAt 33
the worst and I appreciate that, but you can’t shield me from the reality, which is that every time you walk out the door you’re at risk. How do you think that makes me feel? The phone rings and a little part of me dies, thinking this is the call. That someone at the other end is going to tell me how sorry they are…”
He dashed unwanted tears off his cheek, took several deep breathes to calm himself. “I don’t ever want to get that phone call. I don’t ever want to get a visit from your buddies in blue. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”
“You’re not going to lose me,” David said. “Not if I can help it.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll hold you to that.”
David forced himself to smile down into Chris’s earnest face.
He knew he shouldn’t make tho
se kinds of promises; who could keep them when that kind of tragedy was out of anyone’s control.
He could argue that he was always careful, but sometimes that wasn’t enough. Just look at Jairo. That was a name he knew Chris would not like him thinking about. It would just upset Chris more to carry on with this conversation.
David opened up his science fiction paperback and was thankful when Chris pulled a computer magazine out of his laptop case.
David drowsed off in the middle of a paragraph, one finger still cocked between pages to mark his place. While he dozed, his mind wandered. What would happen if he really did quit?
What would life be like if he no longer had the LAPD? Sure, he’d worked with the odd private investigator and found most of them hard-working stiffs who did their best with the limited resources they had at hand. But a downside was that he’d be giving up all the power the LAPD shield wielded. That kind of power opened doors and got things done.
He finally drifted into a deeper sleep where dreams didn’t plague him. He woke up when the plane began its descent.
The seatbelt lights came on and the captain’s voice came over the intercom, telling them they were approaching Manchester 34 P.A. Brown
Municipal Airport.
They drove the rental Saturn north toward Little Squam Lake where David’s parents had bought ten acres of land bordering the lake over three decades ago. His stepfather, Graham, was an avid fisherman and his mother attended the local summer auctions, always on the lookout for more antiques. His stepfather often joked that he needed to put up a barn to store her treasures.
Chris stared out of the window and David wondered what he was brooding over. He had accompanied David to meet his parents only once before, after they became a couple but before their wedding. The visit had not gone well. David’s mother had seemed incapable of seeing beyond what Chris represented: that their son was a pervert. Chris wasn’t very good at forgiving that kind of rebuff. David had cut the visit short and vowed never to return. Now his mother’s lies had forced his hand and he had to admit he wanted Chris along to strengthen his resolve not to take any more of his mother’s crap.
Chris suddenly seemed to think of something. “Did you tell them we were coming?”
“I talked to…Graham.” David shied away from his usual address form. Up until he had learned the truth he’d been happy to call the man Dad, since he was the only one David had known.
“Whether he told my mother, I don’t know.” Left unsaid was “I don’t care.”
ChAPteR six
Friday, 5:15pm Valley Stream Road, Holderness, New Hampshire The car crunched up the driveway. Flanking the drive like silent sentinels, marched a dozen carefully manicured cedars.
Past them, beds of flowers filled the vast front yard with a riot of color. The house itself was two stories of fieldstone and red wood trim. Several mullioned windows caught the late afternoon sun and threw back the shattered light. The front of the house looked out over the lawn and a koi pond nearly covered by pink and white water lilies. Behind the house, Chris could just see the edge of the dock jutting out into a lake so blue it burned into the back of his brain. The screen of cedar bushes that had only been knee-high when he last visited had grown into a towering, carefully trimmed hedge. A small craft was tied up at the end of the pier. A figure wearing a hat crouched over the boat, tinkering with the outboard motor. He straightened and looked up. Waving, he hurried toward them, wiping his hands on faded jeans, already stained with oil and smelling of gasoline. He pulled off his Tilley hat when he drew nearer and wiped his brow with the back of his arm.
Chris recognized Graham Laine, David’s stepfather. He’d gotten a little grayer over the intervening years. Like David had once, he sported a neat, gray mustache. He extended his hand to David who shook it. Then Graham turned to Chris.
“Chris, I’m so glad you could come.”
“Thanks, Mr. Laine—”
“No, no. Call me Graham.” He waved at the house and put his arm around David’s shoulder. “You must be tired after that long drive. Come on inside. I’ve got a few bottles of Pig’s Ear.”
They reached the bottom of the veranda steps. “How long do you plan on staying, David? We still have your room, just like 36 P.A. Brown
you left it. You’re mother’s thrilled you’re here. Come on, I think she’s in the kitchen getting dinner ready. Your favorite, prime rib and Yorkshire pudding.”
Chris had always admired the Laine home, even from his brief visit. From the two-story foyer with the graceful stairway that cascaded down from the second floor to the living room, to the crystal chandelier far above, it was a marvel of design and atmosphere. Graham had once jokingly told them that the builder had called it “the great room.” It had probably added a few extra thousand to the asking price. Chris especially loved the gas fireplace, though on this hot summer day it wasn’t in use.
The odor of roasting meat and caramelized onions overwhelmed Chris’s senses. Immediately his stomach growled.
David led him into the living room while Graham excused himself to change and clean up. Chris looked around the great room. It had changed since the one and only time he had been here. David’s mother had replaced the cool leather and copper furniture with her antiques; the woman might be a bitch, but she was a bitch with impecable taste. He recognized a couple of Shaker pieces and something that could easily have been used by Jefferson.
Graham returned, carrying three bottles of open beer. Chris took his and studied the label. It had a crude cartoon of a pig with the words Pig’s Ear Brown Ale. Despite being a brown ale Chris found it surprisingly mellow. Perfect for a hot summer day.
Chris glanced up to find David’s mother standing in the doorway. She wore a lace-fringed apron over a burgundy dress with a string of pearls Chris would bet a week’s salary were wild, not cultured. There was another woman with her. She bore a faint resemblance to David’s mother, but must have been in her eighties, at least. She wore a helmet of gray hair. A pair of reading glasses hung on a cord around her neck. David’s grandmother?
Chris knew she existed; David had mentioned her once or twice over the years, but Chris had never met her. She was as impeccably dressed as David’s mother. The faint smell of lilies of the valley that he always associated with older women—his BeRMudA heAt 37
mother wore the stuff—wafted through the room, competing with the bowls of chrysanthemums and asters scattered around on several antique end-tables.
Like David’s mother, she ignored Chris and greeted David stiffly. “I’m glad you could make it, David. I’m just sorry your sister won’t be joining us. She’s thinking of joining some God-forsaken international charity and has flown out to Botswana or someplace to meet her team.”
She clearly didn’t approve of her younger grandchild’s goal, but then she hadn’t approved of David’s choice of careers either.
Neither of them had. Only David’s stepfather had been in favor of it. Chris wondered what they would say if they knew David was thinking of retiring.
Not that David would ever tell them. At least not until it was a fait accompli.
When the two women left, David turned to his stepfather and asked, “Nanna’s staying here now? I thought she lived in Manchester.”
Graham nodded. “She had a mild stroke last year and had to give up her place in town. We fixed up the basement so that she had her own apartment. She’s doing much better now, but still needs daily care.”
“You never told me,” David murmured. He had made his dislike of his mother fairly clear to Chris early on, but he had rarely mentioned his grandmother. It was pretty obvious there was little love lost there, either.
“She didn’t want anyone making a fuss over her,” Graham said.
His mother re-entered the room, alone this time, and looked them both up and down. “Dinner will be formal.” She spoke to David directly for the first time. “I do hope you brought something dressier than that.” She glanced at Graham, w
ho had come back down wearing new, crisp jeans. “You too, Graham.
We’re not barbarians here.”
She never looked at Chris.
38 P.A. Brown
Once they had changed into more formal wear, Graham led them to the table. He sat David beside him and Chris opposite.
Chris was a little surprised to see David’s mother bringing in trays of food and setting them on the elaborately laid seventeenth-century oak table. He’d half expected a butler to serve. A gold-rimmed tablecloth was matched with napkins and Wedgwood dishes. When Graham offered to help, she waved him into his seat. There was something about the offer and the refusal that felt ritualistic. David’s grandmother led grace before the meal was served. David didn’t meet Chris’s gaze while the dishes were passed around. He made some small talk with Graham on his right, but Chris could tell his heart wasn’t in it.
Chris couldn’t fault her for the meal. The prime rib was succulent and barely medium rare. The roasted potatoes and corn were perfect and even the Yorkshire pudding was beyond reproach. Under any other circumstances he would have dove in and stuffed himself. As it was he managed a few mouthfuls along with a glass of passable Cabernet, then set his utensils down when David’s mother spoke up.
“So how have you been, David? You look peaked. Are you well?”
“I’m fine, Mother.”
“I hope you take care of yourself,” she said. “That city isn’t fit for a civilized man. You never know what you’ll catch from some filthy degenerate junkie. Diseases that would never have existed, except for the moral decline of our world.”
Chris nearly choked on his Cabernet. My God, she was talking about AIDS. Did she think David was exposed just because he was gay or because he was a cop? He’d thought that kind of attitude had gone the way of the Bush dynasty.
He could see by the white lines around David’s mouth that it was taking all his effort not to speak up. It was Graham who defused the situation.
