A Matter of Time 07 - Parting Shot (MM)

by Mary Calmes

  “Yeah, well, it’s never bothered me before. Only difference now is that more people’ll know.”

  “Jim.”

  “Like I give a fuck.” He sounded disgusted. “Whatever happens, happens. If guys down at the precinct care who you’re fuckin’, there ain’t shit I can do about that. What I will say is that everybody better keep any stupidass comments to themselves or I’ll punch their teeth in.”

  “This is your adult response?”

  “Lemme think about it a sec,” he quipped. “Fuck, yeah.”

  “Thanks” was all I said because the thank-you for having my back didn’t need to be spoken. This was my best friend; it was pointless to drag the conversation out. I would do anything for the man, and of course, it went both ways. That was never a question. Ever.

  “So,” my partner grunted at me over the phone.

  “What?”

  “Imma tell Lise about Sutter, all right?”

  “Yeah,” I sighed. “Before she sees it in the news somewhere and gets all hurt.”

  “Okay.”

  Silence reigned for a moment.

  “Jim?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re still on the phone.”

  “I know.”

  “What is it?” I prodded.

  “So Sutter… you think, uhm… you think we can see his place in Winnetka?”

  It took me a second. “Are you kidding?”

  “No, I’m not kidding,” he barked at me.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. What the fuck?”

  I coughed. “Sure, yeah. I got a key. I’ll show you around.”

  “Oh? You’ve got a key. Ain’t that the shit!”

  I hung up on him, and he called back laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. I made sure to tell him to go fuck himself before I hung up a second time. The third time, he was still chuckling but was in enough control to listen about the case. I promised to call him before we went into the compound the following day.

  After Jimmy, I called to leave a voice mail for my captain and was surprised when she picked up the phone in her office. Apparently, she was working late, trying to clear out some paperwork, and was pleased to hear from me. I caught her up on the case and then got to the heart of the matter.

  I started by explaining how sorry I was for not coming clean with her in person, but that I had to talk to her about me being gay before I returned and before it got back to her. She surprised me by thanking me for my openness and honesty, and then informed me it was not her business in the least.

  “Have you spoken to someone with the Gay Officers Action League, Detective?”

  “Uhm, no.”

  “Well, you should. Would you like me to shoot the GOAL rep for our department an e-mail?”

  I had no idea what to say to that. “Sure, I guess.”

  “You guess or you’re sure, Detective?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Excellent. It’s very important for you to know your rights. Equality can be a rocky road. Just know that when it is, I will be there to support you. You’re one of mine.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Of course.”

  When I hung up, I sat alone on the second floor and stared out the window. It made me almost sick that I had waited so long to be brave and stand up. And it was crazy, but I felt like I owed someone an apology.

  It seemed like the natural thing to do to call my ex.

  He picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”

  Of course he wouldn’t know it was me. My phone number wouldn’t be in his phone anymore, not after so long.

  “Hello?”

  And it was late. My brain sometimes just didn’t kick on.

  “Is there anybody—”

  “Nate.”

  After a moment, he said, “Duncan?”

  “Yeah, shit, sorry. I just realized it’s late there.” There was a two-hour time difference and it was a quarter to midnight where I was.

  “No, it’s okay. I’m up feeding the baby.”

  That was news. “Baby?”

  He chuckled, and as always, it was a warm, deep tone. Dr. Nathan Qells always sounded good. “My granddaughter.”

  “Oh.” I smiled into the phone. “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you. I’m giving her folks a break before they start shuffling down the hallway looking for brains.”

  “Little bit of Night of the Living Dead going on at their place?”

  “New parents. It happens.”

  I could imagine the scene.

  “So, Detective Stiel,” he said kindly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “This is gonna sound really stupid.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “I just wanted to call and apologize to you.”

  “For what?”

  “For not having the balls to come out when we were together. I’m so sorry, Nate.”

  He caught his breath. “You came out?”

  “Yeah.”

  “To who?”

  “To my captain, to my department, and there will be pictures, somewhere—I suspect in one or more of those horrible gossip magazines next to the checkout stand at the grocery store—about me and Aaron Sutter.”

  “Who?”

  “Aaron Sutter,” I began. “He—”

  “Aaron Sutter the multi-millionaire hotel guy?”

  I coughed. “Yeah.”

  “Wow.” He sounded stunned.

  “How do you know him?”

  “I don’t know him,” he huffed. “I know of him. You’d have to be dead not to know who Aaron Sutter is. This is the man who said, ‘Hey, why don’t we build in the Pacific Rim? I hear it’s gonna be big someday.’”

  I started laughing because it was funny to hear him kid and even funnier that my ex, the academic, knew even a little about the minds of millionaires.

  “So damn,” he said with a laugh. “When you come out, you come out guns blazing, huh?”

  “I didn’t plan on—”

  “Duncan.”

  “Crap.”

  His sigh was deep. “In or out of the closet, Duncan, you were never the right man for me. We both know it. We’re both sort of similar, and while that can be a good thing, it really wasn’t in our case. You being closeted at the time, I think, didn’t let us see the big picture. But now you can, and damn… I’m so happy for you.”

  “Not everyone has to be out and proud to be happy, Nate.”

  “I agree. I do. I think it’s a choice everyone has to make for themselves. But for you, knowing you, I swear if I didn’t have this cute kid on my chest, I would dance around the room for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Are you happy?”

  “So far,” I said honestly. “It’s brand-new, and the shit’s gonna hit the fan when I get back, but I talked to Jimmy and my captain so… you know.”

  “It will be what it will be, and that has to be okay.”

  “Right. It will.”

  “Wait, back? Where are you?”

  “I’m on an FBI task force.”

  He choked.

  I laughed.

  “What?”

  “I forgot you were funny,” I replied.

  “Jesus, Duncan.”

  “So I just wanted to call and thank you for being a really good part of my life.”

  “You’re welcome,” he sighed.

  “I’ll see ya.”

  “I hope so,” he confided and then hung up.

  Nothing like closure.

  Chapter 11

  “DUNCAN?”

  Lowering the newspaper I was reading, I glanced up at Aaron, who had come to stand next to the dining room table, rubbing his left eye and looking very confused. “Good morning,” I snickered.

  He was trying to focus. “What are you wearing?”

  “My suit. Well, my suit pants, the jacket is right over—”

  “No, I mean—” He rotated his head back and forth. “—what’s going on?”

>   “Well, you have to shower and have some breakfast, I need to coordinate our exodus from this hotel, and—”

  “No.” He sniffled. “Why are you dressed?”

  “Because I ran this morning, came back, used the gym, used the pool, showered, shaved, changed, had breakfast, and was reading the paper waiting for you.” I answered, very amused by his complete confusion. “You want some coffee?”

  He came around the table, and I pushed away from it so he could sit down in my lap, which was apparently where he wanted to be. “What happened last night? Why didn’t you sleep with me?”

  “I passed out on the chair after I talked to Nate.”

  “Who?”

  “My ex.”

  “Why were you talking to your ex?”

  “Just some things needed to be said. It’s good.”

  His hands slid up my chest as he scrutinized me.

  “What?”

  “Whenever we’re together from now on, I want you to sleep with me.”

  “Okay, I will. I just didn’t wanna accidentally attack you in the middle of the night.”

  “Maybe I would have liked that,” he grumbled.

  “You’re really cute, all bleary and out of it.”

  He would not be baited; instead he slumped forward and nuzzled under my jaw.

  “You need to eat.”

  “Tell me what’s going on?”

  “We’re leaving in about two hours so, really, you need to get a move on.”

  “How come I passed out? Did someone roofie me?”

  I snorted out a laugh. “No, you passed out because once the adrenaline goes, you’re pretty much done.”

  “Adrenaline?”

  “Just the racing around you’ve been doing is crazy. Plus, think about all the changes in your life over the past few days, and then last night and today… you just wrung yourself out.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” he snapped, getting up and stalking to the window. “I’m not weak. I’m not the woman in this thing.”

  “In this thing?” I repeated.

  He crossed his arms but didn’t look at me.

  “In our thing, ya mean?” I laughed, standing up and following him, feeling like humor was my best option. “Just so we’re clear, there’s no women in this thing, our thing, at all.”

  He spun around to face me. “Don’t make fun of me.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Listen, I don’t get taken care of or handled, you understand? I’m the one who does that. I fix things. Me. I’m the guy who makes all the plans. Not anybody else.”

  “Or,” I said gently, amazed at my own patience. Normally, I would have yelled, but something about Aaron made me want to talk to him, soothe him, give him comfort. “We could take turns, ya know, since we’re partners and all.”

  He was staring at me.

  “If that would work for you?”

  Still silent.

  “Since that’s what people do. Relationships are a team sport,” I instructed him. “Or so I’ve heard.”

  His eyes stayed fastened on mine.

  “Food?”

  He coughed. “Yeah.”

  I walked back over to the table, and he followed me. I pulled out his chair, and he sat and even let me push it back in for him. Once his eyes were back on me, I poured him some coffee, served him up some eggs benedict and fresh strawberries with powdered sugar, and then asked him if he wanted any orange juice.

  “No.” He shook his head.

  I went back to reading the paper, and after a few minutes, he said my name. My gaze returned to him immediately.

  “Yeah, let’s do that.”

  “Let’s do what?”

  He squinted. “Let’s play a team sport.”

  “Okay.” I grinned.

  He looked better as he took a bite of his toast.

  LEAVING the hotel would have been more easily accomplished with a battering ram or a snow plow. So many people, so many reporters, and every one of them wanted to know who I was, since Aaron was holding my hand. I had on his sunglasses again, which were way too fancy for me. We agreed to stop at a mall on the way out of town to pick me up a pair. We probably could have gotten through the paparazzi quicker, but when Aaron was asked point blank if I was his boyfriend, his answer—his clear and honest “yes”—started the whole onslaught all over again.

  It was deafening: the sound of the flashes going off, the yells at me of “Over here”; the calls of “What’s your name?” were crazy. Aaron smiled, held court, and then stuffed me into the back of the limousine.

  Once we were safe behind tinted glass, I took off the cap that didn’t at all go with my Italian suit and only then noticed his liquid eyes and the warmth in them. “What?”

  “Why is that stupid cap so ridiculously hot?”

  “Because you want me,” I said flatly.

  “Yeah, I think that’s it.”

  I took off his sunglasses and held them out to him.

  “You know you can just keep those if you want.”

  “They’re not really me.”

  “No?”

  “No,” I said. “I just need a boring pair from some kiosk in the mall. I have no idea why you’d need them to be this fancy.”

  “Those are Moss Lipow.”

  “I have no idea what that is,” I assured him. “Drive me to the mall.”

  But we ended up at Louis Vuitton, and I picked out a pair that would work. I pulled out my wallet, but Aaron grabbed the glasses, and my hand, and ordered Miguel to take care of it. We were headed back to the car in minutes.

  “You can’t just buy me everything,” I cautioned him.

  “Right,” he agreed. “But a seven-hundred-dollar pair of sunglasses, I should be allowed to take care of for you.”

  I stopped walking and took off the sunglasses I had just put on. “These are seven hundred dollars?”

  His grin lit up his face. “That was Louis Vuitton, baby, not Walmart.”

  “Holy shit,” I said, holding them out to him. “I’ll get something at the airport.”

  “No, you won’t.” He chuckled. “There’s no more airport for you, don’t you get it?”

  I tensed because, really, the money thing was weird. You had the feeling it was quicksand, and if you got too close, you wouldn’t be able to get out.

  He squeezed my hand tight, and once we were back in the limousine, twisted in the seat to face me. “You look like you’re freaking out.”

  “Just gimme a sec,” I directed, staring out the window.

  “Hey,” he said, and I was surprised when he threw a leg over me and straddled my hips, in my lap when I wanted some space.

  “You don’t listen all that well.” My eyes flicked up to his face.

  He put his hands around both sides of my neck, and I was stuck looking up at him.

  “Duncan, honey, listen to me.” His voice dropped low as he stared into my eyes. “You ride in a private jet now. A car picks you up and takes you places. You have expensive sunglasses and tailored suits, and when it’s time for me to get you a ring, the store will be closed when we pick out what we want. That’s how this works.”

  It was how it worked for him. It was his world, but it didn’t have to be mine. I—wait. “Ring?” I coughed.

  “Yes,” he said, his eyes rock solid on mine.

  “You said when, not if.”

  “Because it’s a when, that’s why, not an if. If is gone.”

  “Someday,” I said.

  “Yes. Someday.”

  “Okay, but you get that—”

  “I get that you’re not going to quit your job and stick around my house all day or travel with me whenever I want. I understand that kept is not something you’ll ever be. I know that. But what you have to wrap your brain around is your life now includes staff and charity fundraisers and events. During the day, at work, you’re Detective Stiel. Nights, weekends, you’re Aaron Sutter’s partner, and you have to look the part.”

  I had to giv
e. I never had, and it had yielded me nothing and no one. Letting the man go because I had too much pride was just a bonehead move.

  “You can’t manscape me,” I threw out after a minute.

  “Do you have any idea what that even means?”

  I thought a second. “No, not really.”

  He bent close. “Stop spooking over every little thing.”

  “Stop saying what I can and cannot do,” I cautioned.

  “Okay,” he said.

  “Okay,” I agreed.

  And then he kissed me.

  ON THE jet, Aaron was immediately on the phone and his computer at the same time. I was basically at a standstill until we got to the resort. Everyone knew where we were: all of us in a holding pattern until the next step of the adventure.

  I spotted some magazines on the small table by my chair, although none that I normally read. But I picked up the Forbes because Aaron was on the cover. The inside article had a cheesy title, “Here Comes the Son.” With Gordon Sutter on the left side of the page and Aaron on the right, Gordon with his arms crossed, Aaron with his hand out like he was ready to shake, you got the idea the two men were not close.

  It was interesting reading all about Aaron’s recent battle with his father for control of Sutter. The article cited many reasons why the company was better served with the son at the helm and not the father. Aaron was quoted as saying his father’s tenure as CEO had been fraught with mismanagement, plagued by poor investments, and riddled with scandal. Gordon volleyed back with his son’s lies about his homosexuality.

  Luke Levin—I really was crazy about the man’s name—was on record as saying that what mattered to the board and investors at Sutter were results and results alone. Under Aaron’s supervision, the Chicago-based brokerage company was apparently on course to finish up a fifth straight year with a net return in excess of 20 percent. That was apparently very good.

  I had wondered vaguely about Aaron’s status, millionaire or more, and finally got my answer. The man was listed as a billionaire in the magazine, 11.2 billion altogether. He was not the richest, but neither was he the poorest of the exclusive club. His money was diversified, coming from hotels built all over the world, other properties, and the value of his shares in Sutter. All there in black and white was a lot of reality in a short timeframe.