by P. A. Brown
“Give me a break.” Chris jerked away from Des’s touch. “It’s exactly what it looks like. He’s fucking that guy and you know it. That’s why the bartender at the Eagle heard about David. That’s where he’s been going. Probably met twinkle toes there. He’s bringing him breakfast—how long has he been here?”
“So does this mean you’re going to let it go? You’re not going to see him again?”
“I said I would.”
“You said you’d take him home.”
“Yes,” Chris said stiffly. “And I will.”
“Remember the man’s sick.”
“What does that mean?”
“That Christopher Ryan Bellamere giving him a piece of his mind might not be the smartest thing to do right at this minute.”
“Well aren’t you suddenly full of advice.”
“Hey, I love you two. I think you belong together, but I am not going through that shit again. This last month was bad enough. Never again.”
“I wouldn’t—”
“Good.” Des linked his arm through Chris’s and led him down the hall toward the bank of elevators that would take them back to the parking garage. “That’s healthier for all of us.”
Return to TOC
Chapter 8
Friday, 10:40 am, USC Medical Center, State Street, East LosAngel es DAVID LOOKED AT the empty door for several heartbeats after Chris had gone through it.
“I came at a bad time, didn’t I?” Blair asked softly. He didn’t pull up the chair. Instead he leaned over David and studied his face. “Do you want me to leave?”
“No! For God’s sake, no. Stay. I just wasn’t expecting him...”
“Who is he?”
“Chris. We, ah, we were together, for a while.”
“But not anymore?”
“What?”
“You’re not together anymore.”
“No, no we’re not.”
Blair was discretion itself. He made no further mention of Chris. Instead he said, “I fed your cat. What’s his name? Sweeney. I think he misses you. I think he was telling me he wants you to come home. I told him he can stand in line.” He opened the Starbucks bag and pulled out a cranberry-orange muffin, a scone, and a cherry-cheese Danish. “I wasn’t sure what you were in the mood for.”
David reached for the muffin. “I like them all, but this looks good,” he said. “Thanks,” he added, with a small smile.
They ate mostly in silence. Blair tried to keep a conversation going but David answered mostly in monosyllables or with nods. After an hour or so, Blair started picking up the debris and stuffing it in the bag. “I’m working the evening shift,” said Blair. “So I need to get a move on. Do you know when you are getting discharged?”
“Today or tomorrow,” David said. “Depends on the doctor.”
He paused. “If it’s today, I won’t be able to give you a ride home.”
“That’s okay, Chris said he’d pick me up.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, David regretted them. “Just a ride...” he added lamely.
“Well that’s great, then,” said Blair. “Either way, give me a call and let me know what’s going on, okay?”
David nodded yes, suddenly feeling tired and realizing his abdomen ached. He wondered how long it would take to completely recover. “Can you push the button for the nurse?” he said softly. “I think I need another pain pill.”
Blair nodded and did as he was asked, then stooped over the bed. “Time for me to get going,” he said.
“You get some rest.” He leaned over the bed and gave David a light kiss, letting it linger for more than a few seconds. He stroked David’s five o’clock shadow. “Guess I should have thought of a razor. But I like you like this.”
“I’m sure it would wear thin after a while,” David said, trying to muster the energy to return the kiss with some ardor, and failing miserably.
“Get well soon,” Blair said. “I miss you.”
David nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “And when I am feeling like myself again, I can thank you properly for your gift.”
Blair gave him a wink as he stood up straight. “Sounds good,” he said. “I’m waiting for that moment.”
He ended up staying the extra night since his bowels were not cooperating with the toilet. But the next day, he was discharged early and realized he was eager to get out of the hospital. David didn’t handle lying around well, even if he was trussed up like a turkey with stitches and an abdominal binder. He put on the clothes Blair had brought for him, realizing there was no sign of the clothes he had been wearing when he was attacked by Bitterman.
When Chris called he almost told him not to come. It would only open old wounds and he wasn’t sure he could take the pain all over. But he thought of how Chris had looked standing next his hospital bed the previous day and he knew he couldn’t refuse the chance to see him one more time. Face it, Chris was firmly entrenched under his skin and nothing short of exorcism would get rid of his obsession.
And he wasn’t sure he was ready to let it go.
So he told Chris when to come and he spent the next hour getting ready. A candystriper brought him toothpaste, a toothbrush, disposable razor and some shaving gel from the hospital gift shop and carefully scraped off his incipient beard, trimming his mustache too.
When Chris arrived, David was waiting, sitting stiffly in the chair in the corner of the room. He handed Chris the small bag of toiletries and Chris looked at it, surprised. “This is it?” he said. “No clothes?”
“I wasn’t planning on being admitted,” said David. “And I think the clothes I was wearing must have made the acquaintance of the incinerator.”
“Ah,” said Chris. He picked up the box of chocolates he had brought and noticed they were unopened.
A large bouquet of flowers stood in a vase on the window ledge. “What about those?” he asked.
“Just leave them,” said David, gruffly. Blair had brought them Thursday morning. They brightened the room but David didn’t want them in the house, reminding him of his hospital stay.
Chris pushed the wheelchair David had to use to get out of the hospital. Still stiff from his stitched wound, Chris helped him into his Lexus, buckling him in and putting his few possessions in the back seat.
Then he climbed in and started the engine. He made no move to kiss David. David wasn’t sure if he was glad or disappointed.
He tried to convince himself he was glad. Why start something he knew he couldn’t finish.
Right.
Given how all he could do was remember what it was like to make love to Chris, to hear his passion, to taste his desire and feel his perfect body respond to every one of his caresses. He clenched his hands into fists to keep from reaching over and sliding his fingers between Chris’s jean clad leg to feel his swelling cock. He wanted to hear Chris moan his name and—
He cursed under his breath. Chris looked over at him in alarm.
“Are you in pain? Do we need to get a doctor—?”
“I’m fine,” David ground out. “Let’s just go.”
“You could come back to my place,” said Chris. “Spend a day or two recuperating...”
“No,” said David, his voice sharp. “My house, please.”
Chris recoiled and frowned. But he put the SUV in gear and roared out of the parking lot. In stiff silence they rolled toward Glendale and David’s place.
Chris parked behind David’s yellow and white ‘56 Chevy Two-Ten sport coupe and killed the engine.
“Would you like to come in for coffee?” David asked.
“Instant?”
“No, I’ve got a grinder now.” David’s smile was ironic. “You spoiled me for real coffee.”
“Least I managed that,” Chris said sourly, then immediately looked contrite. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to be snippy. Let’s do that again, okay?” He smiled tiredly. “I’d love to have a cup of coffee.”
“Come on then.”
Before David could reach for t
hem, Chris grabbed the bag and followed David up to the front step.
They stepped into the small foyer and were immediately engaged by Sweeney who wound around David’s feet demanding an apology for David going AWOL for the last three days. David scooped the complaining cat up and cradled him in his arms as he led Chris into the tidy kitchen.
Chris paused in the doorway and looked around the familiar room. He couldn’t have counted the number of mornings they had shared breakfast at the kitchen table after a night of stunning, unforgettable sex. David saw his eyes scan every corner and wall. Looking for some sign of another man? He wouldn’t find anything. Blair might stay over occasionally, but he didn’t leave his things there. Things had never gone that far, though sometimes it seemed like Blair might like it to. David wasn’t sure he’d ever feel that way again. As personable and hot as Blair was, he wasn’t Chris. Which was really what it all came down to in the end.
David pulled out the coffee maker and placed it on the counter, then clutched his side as a spasm of pain swept through him. “Do you mind?” he asked. “Can you make the coffee?”
Chris looked at the wave of pain that crossed David’s face. “Sure,” he said. “No problem.” He motioned to the chair at the table. “Sit there and just tell me what to do. Where do you keep the coffee?”
“In the freezer,” David answered, gingerly moving in the chair until he found a comfortable position.
Chris busied himself with the coffee preparations, feeling David’s eyes hot on his back.
“So what have you been up to?” David asked as he watched Chris. “Keeping busy?”
“Picked up a couple more clients. Pharmaden’s still my biggest. Phil keeps me busy. Not busy enough.”
“What do you mean?”
“Being on my own is different. With DataTEK I worked with assholes but had a paycheck I could count on. Now... I like the people but the money isn’t flowing in in quite the same way.”
David nodded, watching Chris’s smooth movements as he retrieved two cups from the cupboard. Even with his aching side and taped up belly, he felt a stirring in his groin.
“I think I’m going to have to trade the Lexus in for something more economical,” Chris continued
“Insurance and gas prices are killing me.”
“What are you thinking of?” One of the few things they had shared was an abiding love of cars, though Chris loved their style and status, and David loved the mechanics. They had talked about attending the L.A auto show together, maybe even the Palm Springs show, but now... those plans seemed like they had happened in a different universe.
“Something smaller, but still practical. I need to transport equipment for some jobs. I’m looking at s compact SUV, maybe a Ford or Chrysler.”
“I’ve always been partial to Fords,” said David.
Chris gave him a wink. “I thought I saw a Chevy in the driveway.”
David chuckled. “Yeah, well they don’t make them like they used to. For new cars, I’d suggest a Ford.”
“Well, that’s as good a recommendation as any,” said Chris, as he poured the coffee into the two mugs on the counter.
“If you like I could go with you when you start test driving.”
“I’d like that. You know me, a real ditz about cars. I’d let the first smooth talking salesman sell me a bill of goods.”
David laughed. “Somehow, I think you’re selling yourself short,” he said. He picked up the mug that Chris placed in front of him. “I think there is some cream in the fridge,” he said. “Nothing flavored but I know it’s not sour.”
“That’s fine,” Chris said, adding a generous splash to his cup. “Thanks.” He sat in the chair and lifted the steaming mug, wrapping his hands around the cup, inhaling the fragrance. “Mmmm, smells good. Where did you get this?”
“From the Farmer’s Market,” David said. “It’s organic.”
“I’ll have to get some.”
“Then you can invite me for coffee.”
Chris put the mug down and met David’s gaze. “Any time.”
David cleared his throat, feeling a sudden and unwanted hardening in his groin. Chris had wanted to talk.
Well he’d go along with that, but he wasn’t going to pursue anything else. Not now. Maybe not ever.
God, he was such a liar.
He wanted nothing more than to tumble Chris to the floor and make him scream for him, just like he knew he could. Like he had so many times in the past.
He put a hard brake on his desires. They were beyond that now. He had Blair, who he suspected was falling in love with him. And Chris had... his mind shied away from images of Chris with another man. Or men? That would be worse. Chris had been an admitted slam hound before he had met David. Had he gone back to that behavior? David didn’t want to know.
“How about you?” Chris asked. “How are things with you? Still partnering with Martinez?”
“Yeah, we’re still running together. We fit. Always did.”
“I’m glad.” And the truth was, Chris was happy for David. He and Martinez hadn’t hit it off when they’d first met, but then Martinez was convinced Chris was a vicious killer even when the evidence pointed to someone else. He had seemed to need to believe in Chris’s guilt. He had never been at ease around Chris and any socializing between cops rarely included Chris and David, which he had always known had hurt David, whose life revolved around being a cop.
He indicated the hidden bandage across David’s abdomen. “How’d that happen?”
“Cornered guy freaked when he realized we’d made him. I guess I was slow to react. My fault.”
“You deal with animals, don’t expect them to act rationally.”
David shrugged. “I guess.” He started to get up but Chris stopped him, jumping up and grabbing the pot.
“You want a refill?” he asked and David nodded, thanking Chris with the smile in his eyes.
After several minutes of easy silence David murmured, “You want to go out sometime?”
Chris smiled, then clamped down on his reaction. He ducked his head. “Yes, I’d really like that.”
David never quite knew why the next words popped into his mouth. Maybe he was testing how much Chris would be willing to do in his desire to see David again. “Let’s go bowling. You like bowling?”
Saturday, 1:15 pm, Piedmont Avenue, Glendale
Chris stared at David. Was he serious? Bowling? Chris didn’t think he’d ever been inside a bowling alley in his life. Bowling was something beer swilling grunts did while wearing other people’s shoes—he froze. Didn’t that describe David? He was a blue collar stiff with no pretensions of being anything else.
He hadn’t lost that even during their time together. Chris had always known that. He had fallen in love with him despite what he would have always thought were flaws. Those things were part of what David was. Part of the man he had grown to adore.
“Ah, I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ve never been.”
“Well then, it’s about time you tried. New experiences and all.”
“I’m always game to try something new,” he lied. “When?”
David hitched in the chair, feeling another spasm of pain. “The doctor told me to lie low, take a week off work, so I suspect I won’t be in shape to throw a bowling ball anytime soon. Want to say a week from today? Next Saturday?”
Chris hid his disappointment. A whole week? He wasn’t sure he could wait that long but then—he had to wait that long, if that’s what it took to be with David. Chris made up his mind.
“Next Saturday would be great. You’ll have to be patient. I know nothing about bowling.”
“I’ll teach you.” David seemed amused. “You’ll see. It’s fun.”
“Right. I just hope I don’t drop the ball on my foot.”
“I’ll make sure you come out unscathed.” He was definitely laughing now. “Besides that’s one of the things the shoes are meant to prevent.”
Chris grimaced. Dav
id was really enjoying this. Finally Chris grinned ruefully. “If I do, you can pay for my cast.”
“I’ll sign it too.”
“I can hardly wait.”
David laughed. He reached over and took Chris’s hand. “You will have fun.”
Chris wanted to believe it. He had to settle for the knowledge that he would be with David for a few hours. That had to be worth some discomfort.
Coffee finished, Chris stood reluctantly. He wanted to stay, but knew he should take things slow. All he really wanted to do was jump David’s bones, but that would have to wait.
Instead he leaned toward David and kissed him on the mouth. “I’m sure I will.” And hurried out the door, leaving David standing in the foyer, watching him.
He flipped his hand and smiled when David waved back. He could tell by David’s tension that he wanted Chris to stay almost as much as Chris wanted to.
Maybe this would work out after all.
Return to TOC
Chapter 9
Saturday, 2:30 pm, All Star Lanes, Eagle Rock Boulevard, Los Angeles THE CACOPHONOUS ECHO of sounds assaulted Chris as soon as he followed David into the bowling alley. The alley was high ceiling and cavernous, with long rows of lanes, most of them occupied.
The nearly continual sound of brightly colored balls rolling on the wooden floor and the clack of the red and white pins crashing under the rolling balls never let up. The backdrop of Stars and Stripes on the backboard was garish but somehow fitting.
None of it was what he had expected. The first surprise was when David showed up at his place with a large bag that held his own bowling ball and shoes.
“So not fair,” Chris muttered. “I want my own shoes.”
“Then go buy some. I’ll make sure you get to wear them often enough.”
“Right.”
David touched his elbow and pointed toward a long desk. Chris eyed the rows of shoes stacked along the opposite wall. God, they were ugly. When David asked his size he told him and gingerly took the blue and brown things he was handed by the attendant. He met David’s amused stare and smiled ruefully.
