The Art of Love

by Max Hudson

  Chapter Eight

  The next morning, I woke up to see Aris asleep, his face turned to me. His eyelashes lay on his cheeks like soft fans. I could almost count the hairs. I reached over to touch his cheek gently and watched his eyes blink open slowly. He opened them and saw me staring.

  “Pervert. Don’t watch me sleep.” He grabbed my hand and pulled it close to him.

  “Don’t be so sexy, then.” He laughed and I pulled him closer. “You want to get up?”

  “In a little bit. I’m enjoying this.”

  “Me too.” I put my chin on his shoulder and he tucked his chin into his chest so that the top of his head snuggled into me. I let myself relax against him, a little sigh escaping me as we held one another. His bed became the most wonderful place in the world. I was a long way away from my old six a.m. runs and bowls of oatmeal.

  So, when I heard footsteps coming down the hallway, I froze.

  “Aris? Aris, you up? We need you at the—” a young woman walked in and froze at the sight of me. “Oh! Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize.”

  We both looked at her and Aris asked her to give him a minute.

  “Of course. Take your time!” She quickly walked out and we started giggling like little kids.

  “Sorry about that,” he whispered, kissing me on the cheek. “Tracy is a devout assistant. If she’s here, we either have a new buyer or a new commission. I better go and see what’s up.”

  “Sure.” We kissed again and started stretching, rolling to the edge of the bed, standing up. I was so sad to see him get out of our little love nest, but there was nothing to be done about it. “I’ll just head home, then.”

  “You don’t have to.” Aris gestured to the kitchen. “Stay. Have breakfast here. I’ll tell everyone I’m working in my home studio, and I’ll come back. We can hang out and be bad.”

  “Oh.” That brightened me up. “Well, that sounds great. I would love to snoop around and go through your fridge.”

  “Please.” Aris pulled on a nice T-shirt and some clean pants and rubbed his face with his hands. “Do I look presentable?”

  “Very.” I got dressed as well and walked into the bathroom to splash some water on my face. I looked up at myself in the mirror and hardly recognized the man in front of me. He was glowing and giddy. “I did it,” I thought. “I’m with Aris. He’s asking me to stay. It’s happening.” I rubbed my wet skin with a nearby towel and combed my hair. As I was getting myself together, Aris walked in and smiled at me as he reached for his razor and shaving cream.

  “You’re very handsome, you know.”

  “No. I’m average.”

  “Not true.” He put some cream in his hand and spread it on his face. “You have that tough, hard-working look, a salt-of-the-earth kind of thing going on. I really like it.” He went to work with his razor, scraping the white foam from his face and tapping the razor on the edge of the sink to flick it off. “I should do a portrait of you sometime.”

  I straightened up a bit. “A portrait? Are you joking?”

  “I most certainly am not.” He finished shaving and patted on his aftershave. “Your face would be beautiful on canvas. I’m already planning out the composition.”

  My mouth fell open in shock. Someone wanted to paint a picture of me? This had to be a dream. Aris finished his morning ritual and stepped forward to kiss me goodbye. “Don’t be so shocked. You’re a beautiful man.” He slipped his arms around me. “I have to go. Spare keys are in a bowl by the door. I’ll be back in a few hours, okay?”

  “You have any coffee?”

  “Oh, I’m out.” He patted his pockets and looked around. “Sorry, I’m out of cash, too. Could you go across the street to the little market and get me some? Just pick a bag of whatever looks good.”

  “Yes, dear,” I said with a smile.

  “Mmm, you make for one sexy housewife.” He kissed me again and gave me a parting smack on the bum. “See you soon.”

  After he left, I went for a walk. I realized as I strolled along that I hadn’t gone on a run in several days. I would have to start again. After all, I wasn’t retired; I would be back to solving crimes soon. Thinking about it took me back to Basil, Pink, and Captain Diaz. What were they all up to that day?

  “Hey partner,” I wrote on my phone, “just checking in. I hope life isn’t too crazy at the precinct. Be back in five days. Looking forward to catching bad guys with you again.” I waited to see if he might reply, but no luck. Not that Basil checked his phone too often. He was always annoyed by people who stared at screens all day.

  I turned around and went to find the market.

  The market was not a supermarket as I had expected, but a huge place called Carousel—A Gourmet Food and Wine Experience. It was a massive structure with an open floor plan, so it was hard to tell where the store stopped or started.

  I took my time, wandered through different stores, and tried some of the snacks offered to me by employees with samples on trays. It was great. I found a little gourmet coffee shop and perused the shelves while an eager young barista watched me.

  “Anything you want to try?” she asked. “We have these little baby cups in case you want to check the flavor of a certain blend.”

  “Oh, sure.” I picked up a bag of dark French roast and a bag of Sumatra. “Can I try these two? I’m not sure what the difference is between them.”

  She smiled and flipped on her machine. It hummed and spurted as she made me two tiny cups of coffee. “Dark roast is my favorite,” she told me as she spun knobs and gently poured the coffee into two small cups. “There you are. French on the left; Sumatra on the right.”

  I tasted them and we chatted a bit more. I asked her if she was an art fan.

  “Oh, for sure.” She smiled at me. “Actually, my friend is a well-known sculptor around here.”

  My eyebrows went up as I sipped the second cup. “Oh yeah? What’s his name?”

  “Clive. Clive Owens. Do you know his work? He’s everywhere. He and his girlfriend, Blake, are having a lot of success.”

  “You know,” I said, unable to help myself, “I do know a Clive who’s a sculptor. But, I could have sworn the one I knew was gay.”

  She furrowed her brow. “Well, he’s good friends with Aris Kahn, the painter, and I know he’s gay. They were never together, though.” She looked at me expectantly. “So, which one do you like better?”

  I held up the second cup. “The Sumatra, for sure.”

  “Wonderful. Just let me know which size you want, and I’ll get that ground and packaged for you.”

  I headed back to Aris’ place with my purchase, oddly intrigued with the conversation I’d had with my young barista. I didn’t know why, but I was still a bit hung up on Clive. He was clearly an adept liar and great at making people feel special and included. I was dying to meet Blake, the supposed girlfriend. Did she know about the whole act he had put on with Aris?

  I came back to find the door slightly open. Instinctively, I reached back to my waist for my gun, but of course it wasn’t there. I glanced around for anything that could be used as a weapon and I spotted a pair of heavy work boots right inside the front door. They would have to do.

  As quietly as I could, I put my shopping bag down and picked up the shoes. I could hear someone moving things around, muttering to himself inside the house. Keeping my back against the wall, I slowly approached the bedroom where the sounds were all coming from. My head turned so far toward the wall to see what was happening that my nose nearly touched it.

  I took one final step forward and saw him—Clive. He was digging through Aris’ things, looking for something.

  “Clive!” The digging stopped. “You are trespassing on private property. Stop and put your hands up. I’m coming in.”

  A big, frustrated groan came out of Clive. “I’m not doing anything.”

  “You’re here against the owner’s will. I know for a fact that Aris would not want you in his room.” I entered slowly,
boots ready, and quickly looked around for a weapon of any kind. “Are you armed?”

  “What?”

  “Do you have a gun? A knife? Anything?”

  “No! Jesus, I’m not a criminal. I’m just trying to find my necklace. I know it’s here.”

  “Clive,” I said, slowly setting the shoes down, “tell me what it looks like. I’ll find it and bring it to you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean,” I said slowly, “you can’t be in here. You need to step outside. If you go quietly,” I moved a little closer, “I’ll bring it outside. Then we can both go our separate ways. All right?”

  He put his face in his hands and let out a big groan. “God, I’m so stupid! Why did I do this?”

  “Hey, it’s okay. Everyone makes mistakes. Just step out now before you make a bigger one. I’ll help you, but you have to leave.”

  “Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” He looked up, his face red and angry. “Let me guess, you two are together now. God,” he scoffed, “Aris cannot be alone for five minutes. He slept with every guy he met.” Clive picked up a shirt from the bed, shook it out with hard, fast movements, then threw it down. “I need my necklace. It’s a leather thong with an amethyst attached to it. It’s kind of a lucky charm.”

  “Fine. No problem. Just step out, okay?”

  He glared around the room, but I could see he wasn’t going anywhere. He stood his ground, and I saw his fists ball up as his tension traveled down his shoulders and into his arms. “No,” he said, “no. This is not over.” He turned to me and I could see his clenched jaw and his body trembling. I took a defensive stance with my legs open and my shoulders square.

  “He’ll never let me live this down. He’ll ruin my career. He’ll make me look stupid.”

  “Aris wouldn’t do that. He’s hurt right now, but that doesn’t mean he wants to hurt you. He just wants it to be over. Now,” I continued, bending my knees a little, “are you going to leave quietly, or do I have to show you the door?”

  He didn’t answer. His breathing came faster and harder. His complexion went completely red and he glared at me. Screaming, he ran at me full tilt, but I was ready. I got low and caught his chest, putting him flat on his back. The move took him by surprise and he fell back with his feet flopping up into the air.

  I quickly turned him around, got his right arm behind his back and gave it a little twist to keep him from moving.

  “Ow! Hey, you’re breaking my arm! What are you doing?”

  “I’m not breaking your arm,” I explained, “but I will if you don’t calm down. Now, deep breath, easy, stand up and come with me. I don’t want any more trouble from you, got it?”

  No answer.

  “I can’t hear you.”

  “All right, all right! Sorry.” I escorted him out and the sight of me holding him in front of me drew out a few neighbors.

  “Clive,” one woman called, “are you all right?”

  “No! Call the police! This man is attacking me!”

  She hesitated but looked ready to take him at his word. I quickly held out my badge with my free hand. “Ma’am, I am the police. This man is trespassing.”

  That calmed everyone down, but then I realized I did require a phone call to the station. “Could someone please call the local precinct on my behalf? I don’t have my radio.”

  Everyone stirred a bit, then the same neighbor got out her phone. I recited the number and told her to tell the operator the address and the charges I was pressing.

  “Did you say aggravated assault?” she called over to me.

  “Yes. And trespassing.” She dutifully repeated all of it and soon we heard sirens coming down the road. To my surprise, my partner, Basil, appeared with the other officers. He stood up out of his car with a huge smile on his face.

  He watched as they took Clive away, then walked up to me, shaking his head the whole time. “Well! I’ve known workaholics in my time, but you are something else.”

  “I had to get you out from behind your desk, old man.”

  We laughed and gave each other a big hug. The two of us chatted as Clive was driven off and I remembered I had some fancy coffee inside.

  “Hey,” I said, grabbing Basil’s arm, “you have some time? I’d love to catch up. I’m just waiting for Aris to get back.”

  He frowned as he considered the offer. “I don’t know… I usually only drink the day-old stuff at work. Don’t wanna spoil my taste buds.”

  He stood and waited for me to laugh. I just rolled my eyes and used my most robotic voice. “Ha. Ha. Ha. Oh, Basil. You should do stand-up. Now come in and tell me everything that’s happening back at the precinct.”

  We went in and I impressed my partner immensely by making him some French press coffee. He drank it slowly as if he would be refused a second cup.

  “So,” he said over his demitasse, “you came in and found this kid in here, huh?”

  “Oh, let’s back up.” I set my cup down and leaned forward. “You need to know the entire story.”

  I gave him the whole history, the feigned aversion to physical affection, the lies about an illness each month, then the breakup. I left out the part about Blanche’s psychic vision. Without knowing why, I felt it was a good detail to skip over.

  “So, I come back,” I continued as Basil listened quietly, “and the door is unlocked and open. Well, you know how it is, no matter what, you just click over into battle mode. So, I creep in and find him tearing up Aris’ room. Not robbing him, but going through everything. We have a standoff and the little creep attacks me! It was unreal.”

  I paused to take another drink and saw Basil’s right eyebrow go up. He wanted to make some jab at me. “All right, whatever it is, just say it.”

  “Well, I don’t like to brag. Kind of a jerk move.”

  “Out with it.”

  He shrugged. “Just, I was right. You were attracted to Aris from the start. I said that a long time ago. I just wanted to point that out.”

  “That’s what you got from this story?” I stood to take his cup to the sink and he quickly upended it to get the last of the dark, rich coffee out of it.

  “Oh, the story’s great, don’t get me wrong. It’s just that I hear cop stories all day. Romances are the anomaly for me.”

  I laughed. “Is our story even interesting?”

  “It is to me.” He leaned his face on his hand. “How on earth did a cop and an artist ever get together?”

  Before I could answer, the door opened. “Hello. I’m back. Oh, hi.” Aris rounded the corner and saw Basil sitting with me. He shook his hand. “I remember you. Mark’s partner, right?”

  “Yes. Detective Zabrowski. Call me Basil.”

  “Great to see you.” They shook hands and Aris shot me a what is happening? expression.

  “Aris,” I gestured to a nearby spot on the couch, “you’d better sit down. Some stuff happened while you were out that I need to fill you in on.”

  He sat nervously and I told him the story. Basil helped by explaining that charges would be filed against Clive because of his attempt to attack me, but if Clive had a clean record it wouldn’t be the end of his career.

  “Oh,” Aris said, then fell silent. Basil and I exchanged a glance.

  “I understand this must be very upsetting.” I reached for Aris’ hand but he moved it away. My heart gave a little jump of fear. Had I ruined it?

  “I am upset,” Aris said, looking into my eyes. “Not with you, with the situation. I know you were just protecting me, but could you not press charges? The guy is just upset.”

  Basil interjected, “I’m afraid once a citizen acts in this way against an officer, it becomes a felony with up to three years in prison.”

  “Mark! You can’t. Three years?” He put his head between his knees and folded his hands on top of his head. “He won’t survive in prison. He’s a good kid. He’s just messed up right now. He’s spent too long pretending to be someone he wasn’t; it’s screwed
with his sense of who he is. Please,” he looked at me with big, panicked eyes, “can’t you do something?”

  Aris’ insistence stunned me. Clive was the man who had tricked him in every way possible and then broken into his house. He wanted to defend him now?

  “It may be possible,” Basil said gently, “to get the crime reduced to a misdemeanor. Mark isn’t hurt and Clive didn’t rob you. He was just looking for something. And certain judges will allow people to do their time through community service instead of in the county prison or jail. I can talk to some friends at work.”

  “Yeah. It should be fine.” I put on a polite smile, but inside I was raging. I had seen people like Clive before, guys who used well-meaning people like Aris to their own ends. They infuriated me and nothing about them ever changed. They just kept finding new people to latch onto and bleed dry by whatever means necessary.

  “Thanks,” Aris breathed. “I know you guys are just doing your jobs, but I promise you that locking up Clive would do more harm than good.” He reached out for my hand and I caught it and gave it a squeeze. I took all my harsh thoughts about Clive and pushed them down. Aris would eventually just have to see for himself how ugly people could be.

  Basil raised his eyebrows at us expectantly. “Hey, you two interested in some lunch? This old man’s gotta eat.”

  We regarded each other and then nodded. “Okay. Sure. Let’s do it.” All of us stood and made our way to the door, Basil walking out last.

  “I’ll leave last so Mark doesn’t go checking the perimeter. I swear, this guy is never off-duty.”

  Aris smiled. “I know. It’s kind of hot.”

  Basil laughed. “You’re telling me!”

  Chapter Nine

  For lunch, we went to a place Aris was sure two cops like Basil and me would love: a bar with a grill in the back. We sat down and ordered some beers and then perused the menu. Basil kept grinning over his at me as I did my best to ignore him.