Shotgun

by Marie Sexton

  “All of us?” he repeated pointedly.

  I slumped and stared at my toes. “You know what I mean.”

  “Uh-huh.” But it was quite clear he would rather have crushed me to dirt at that moment than continued talking to me. “Junior. You said his last name is Hernandez?”

  “His full name is Mario Hernandez Junior.” The thought of Matt confronting Junior made my heart pound. “What happens now? Are you going to go talk to my family? Out me to all of them?”

  “I won’t out you. Not yet. But I’m going to talk to your brother and this guy Junior. Maybe the rest of them too. See how they react when I mention Lamar’s name.”

  I should have been horrified. I should have begged him to do something else, but I didn’t have the strength. After everything I’d done, it was all going to come out. What chance was there of me keeping my secret now? Maybe if I called Dimitri. Maybe if I warned him, he’d be willing to cover for me enough to keep Matt away from my cousins or my dad.

  But what if one of them really was Lamar’s stalker?

  It seemed unlikely. After all, the damage to his car had happened before he’d ever come into the garage. Nobody there knew about my history with him. Even if they knew I’d been spending time with him since he’d come back, they’d had no reason to go after him back then.

  I said as much to Matt, and to my surprise, he didn’t argue. “I thought of that, too,” he said. “But the keys lead back to your family’s garage. Somebody there must know more than you think.”

  I didn’t bother to contradict him. What would be the point? He was following solid evidence. My thoughts were focused on Lamar. He was in danger. He was alone. He needed somebody, and all my misgivings about being with him shrank before the knowledge that I was the person who should be helping him. I wanted to be the person he turned to when things got rough. The urge to run to him and pull him into my arms and tell him I’d be his savior no matter what was overwhelming.

  But I couldn’t.

  “Is Lamar okay?” I asked.

  “He’s fine.”

  “I’d really like to see him.”

  “You should probably be telling him that, not me.”

  True. “Can I talk to him?”

  “Not yet. And don’t go calling your brother or your cousins, either. If I find out you’ve been making phone calls after I leave, warning people what to say, I’ll come back here and charge you with obstruction of justice. I’ll handcuff you right in front of your kid if I have to. We clear?”

  I hated letting him bully me, but I didn’t have much of a choice. “Crystal.”

  “Good.”

  “But you’ll let me know when I’m allowed to call him?”

  He squinted at me, as if debating whether or not to punch me after all. He pocketed his notebook. “I’ll let you know when you’re off my shit list,” he said at last as he turned to leave. “But I make no guarantees about getting off his.”

  LAMAR

  ANGELO TREATED me like a long lost friend, welcoming me into their home as if it was the most natural thing in the world. They didn’t even mind me bringing a yowling cat with me, although their own cat immediately bolted for the bedroom.

  “Geisha’s old and set in her ways,” Angelo said. “But it’ll be fine for one night.”

  Being a Friday, he was already on his way to work. “Make yourself at home,” he told me before he left. “Zach’ll be home in a couple of hours. I’ll tell him to bring some takeout so neither of you will have to cook.”

  At first, I felt like an intruder, sitting alone in their house. I stashed my bag in the tiny guest room where I’d be sleeping for the night, but was immediately at a loss at to what to do next. I flipped through the channels on their TV and browsed the books on their bookshelf. Eventually, I wandered into the kitchen and checked the fridge. Found Dr Pepper, beer, and enough hot sauce to burn down anything worth eating, but not much else.

  Was tea too much to hope for?

  I began digging through their cabinets. I unearthed a teapot, hiding behind the pots and pans. That seemed promising. In the cupboards, I found lots of Rice-a-Roni, several half-eaten bags of chips, and peanut butter, both smooth and chunky. Finally, tucked into the back of the spice cabinet, I spotted a single dusty box of Celestial Seasonings chamomile tea.

  “Aha!” I exclaimed triumphantly as I pulled it free. “Not exactly the champagne of teas, but better than nothing.”

  I put the kettle on the stove and, as I waited for it to boil, studied the photos tacked to their fridge. Predictably, most were of Zach and Angelo. Several included Matt or Jared. Two of the pictures had clearly been taken in Paris. The Eiffel Tower could be seen in one, and another, taken in front of the Louvre, was of Jared with two men I didn’t recognize. There were also several pictures of a baby girl dressed in a different adorable dress each time, usually with matching ribbons in her dark hair, but there was nothing to indicate how she fit into Zach and Angelo’s lives. But in all the others, I saw perfectly happy couples, living the kind of life I’d longed for and never managed to find.

  I couldn’t help but envy them all a little.

  I was about to sit down with a steaming mug of tea when somebody pounded on the door so hard, I jumped and spilled half of it down my leg.

  “Wonderful,” I mumbled and went to answer the door.

  It was Matt. “It’s not necessarily good news,” he said as he plopped down into the armchair opposite me, “but not bad either. I haven’t struck out yet.”

  “What’d you find out?”

  He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “First of all, I’ve confirmed that neither Troy Fowler or Bob Bolen are involved.”

  “Really?”

  “The break-in happened during the day, while they were both at work. Bob showed me his schedule at the school. The only time he could have done it was over his lunch hour, but I talked to two other teachers who said he was in the staff room the whole period.”

  “And Troy?”

  “Working until two painting houses and parked at the bar ever since.”

  “Okay.” I almost didn’t dare ask the next question. “What about Dominic?”

  He sighed and shook his head. “I still don’t think it’s him.”

  “I don’t either. But what about the others?”

  “I talked to his dad, his brother, and every cousin who works at that damn garage. Not counting Dominic, only two people had access to your keys that day.” He held up his fingers as he listed them. “His brother, Dimitri, and his cousin, Junior.”

  “Do you think one of them did it?”

  “Dimitri didn’t seem to know who you were. He remembered your car, once I reminded him of the circumstances. But he seemed pretty clueless as to why I was even talking to him.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  “I don’t think it was an act. My gut says it isn’t him, but….”

  “But what?”

  He sighed. “Maybe I should have gone at him harder. I was trying to be a hard-ass without blowing Dominic’s cover.”

  “Without outing him, you mean?”

  Matt shrugged without making eye contact. He leaned back in the chair, stretching his long denim-clad legs out in front of him. “I could,” he said. “As a cop, I probably should, if it means finding something I’ve missed.”

  “But you don’t want to?”

  He scratched at an invisible spot on the knee of his jeans. “Do you want me to?”

  I blinked, surprised. “You’re saying you’d do it if I said yes?”

  “No. I’m just asking, would you really want me to do that to Dominic if I didn’t have to?”

  I debated, but it was a complicated question. On one hand, it might simplify things between us. On the other, I didn’t want to see Dom hurt. “No. I don’t think so.”

  “Exactly. It’s funny. I went home for a few minutes before I came here. Blew off steam to Jared about Dominic hiding in the closet when he should be stepping up to
the plate….” His words trailed away, but I knew there was more, so I waited. After a few seconds of contemplative silence, he continued. “He reminded me how I’d done the exact same thing once upon a time.”

  I didn’t reply. I didn’t even move. It was too strange having this huge, strong man tell me something so personal. He seemed so confident now. Utterly sure of himself in every way. It was hard to imagine him struggling with anything.

  “And the other one?” I finally asked. “Junior?”

  He scrubbed his hand over his stubbled face, as if waking himself up. He sat up straight again in the chair. “Well, it’s tough to say. I’m in about the same boat with him as I am with Dimitri. I was trying to question him without revealing too much. He knew who you were. Not by name but by reputation. And I’ll tell you, he’s got no love for any of us.”

  “Us?” I asked, momentarily confused. “Oh. You mean he’s a homophobe.”

  “Not ballsy enough to come right and say so to my face, but I could tell. And he definitely seems slimy enough to do something like this.”

  “Does he have an alibi?” I felt like an idiot using the word “alibi,” like a kid playing at being an adult, but Matt didn’t laugh.

  “Dimitri says Junior was at the garage all day today, but he can’t swear his cousin never left at all. He says it’s pretty chaotic there sometimes, and he has no idea if or when Junior took a lunch break. Nobody who was there today could give me a solid answer as to whether or not Junior left at any point. One guy, Frank, says he couldn’t find Junior once when he needed him, but he said he didn’t check the bathroom or the smoking section out back.”

  “You think it’s him, don’t you?”

  “I think he’s by far the most likely candidate we’ve looked at yet.”

  Could this be it? Could we have finally found the culprit? “What happens now?”

  “I’ve applied for a warrant to check both Dimitri’s and Junior’s keys, but I won’t have an answer until sometime on Monday.”

  “It takes that long?”

  “The judge is on a hunting trip right now, and if I interrupt his weekend with nothing more compelling than a few broken dishes, it won’t go well for us. In all honesty, I don’t have high hopes either way but figured it was worth a shot. If he grants it, all we have to do is compare their keys to yours, see if any of them fit the lock I’ll be swapping out of your front door tomorrow morning.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I’m sure I could—”

  “Bullshit. If I do it, I’ll know it’s done right.”

  “So, that’s it? We wait for the warrant?”

  He shrugged. “Yep.” He pushed himself out of the chair. “I swapped with one of the guys on graveyard so I can camp outside your house tonight. See if this bastard comes back.”

  “A stakeout,” I said, grinning. “It really is like Miami Vice.”

  He laughed. “Yeah. Way fewer babes in bikinis, though.”

  Zach arrived only a few minutes after Matt had bid me good night. He came bearing an enormous bag from the Chinese restaurant and two bottles of wine. We made small talk through most of the evening. We were halfway through the first bottle when he asked the question I’d been waiting for.

  “Why didn’t you go to Dominic’s?”

  I shook my head and drained my glass. “I’ll need a lot more alcohol for that.”

  Zach laughed. “Why do you think I bought two bottles?”

  I’d told myself I wasn’t going to talk about it. After all, we were men, and men didn’t sit around commiserating about things like their closeted would-be lovers. But I had nobody else to turn to. Zach was quiet and nonjudgmental, and before I knew it, I was telling him everything. I told him about Jonas. About moving to Coda. About meeting Dominic fifteen years earlier, and then finding him again, waiting outside the school like some kind of knight coming to my rescue. I told Zach about my and Dom’s crazy make-out session a few weeks before, and the pumpkin patch, and how he’d ended it all with something as impersonal as a phone call. I told him about my stalker—the phone calls, my trashed car, and my ransacked house—and about Matt’s warning that it might be somebody I’d never met, and his suspicion that Dom’s cousin Junior was the culprit, but we had to cross our fingers and wait for a warrant. And once the alcohol had really loosened my tongue, I went back to Dom. I talked about how much I missed him. I talked until my throat hurt. The second bottle of wine wasn’t quite gone, but I’d long since switched to water.

  “He’ll come around,” Zach said at last.

  I shook my head, although the room spun a bit as I did. “I don’t think so.”

  “He will. He hasn’t had to face it until now, that’s all.” Zach frowned. “It’s funny, how we all go through it, but at different times and in different ways. My parents took it well, but it was still the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

  “I guess.” I knew he was right, but I’d been out for so long, the terror of telling my mom and dad had faded. I’d buried it beneath the rejection of a string of failed affairs. “It was a long time ago for me.”

  “For me too. But sometimes I think the older we are when it happens, the harder it is.” He shrugged. “Or that could be the alcohol and old age talking. Who knows? Either way, I think he’ll be back.”

  I put my face in my hands and rubbed hard. The wine had made my cheeks numb. “I’m not playing the game anymore. First Jonas, and now Dom.” I shook my head, trying to make my alcohol-addled brain and tongue work together. “He made his choice.” And that choice hadn’t been me.

  Not long after, I climbed between the sheets of the narrow twin bed in Zach and Angelo’s spare bedroom, with Miss Priss curled around my feet. I slept fitfully, dreaming of my stalker, imagining him outside, watching the house. Sometime in the night, I heard the front door open and close. I started awake, my heart pounding, before realizing it was Angelo, coming home from work. A minute later, I heard their hushed voices in the bedroom next door. I wondered idly if I’d hear more. I hoped not. I drifted off to sleep before I could find out.

  When I woke again, the rich smell of fresh-brewed coffee filled the house. Miss Priss yowled at the bedroom door, and my head felt like somebody had split it open with a tire iron. Quiet voices drifted my way from the kitchen. I followed them, expecting to find Angelo and Zach. Instead, I found Angelo and Jared sitting at the dining room table, each with a steaming mug in their hands.

  “Hey,” Jared said. “How’re you doing?”

  “I think Zach poisoned me.”

  Jared looked confused, but Angelo laughed. “I don’t know how you guys drink that shit.” He gestured toward the kitchen. “Help yourself to the coffee.”

  I would have preferred tea, but I wasn’t about to complain. “Thanks.” I poured a cup and joined them at the table. “Where is Zach, anyway?”

  “He always sleeps late,” Angelo answered.

  Jared slid a key ring across the table toward me. It held two identical keys. “Matt was up all night, so I sent him to bed. But he changed your locks already. He said you can go back home whenever you’re ready, but to call him—”

  “If anything else happens,” I finished for him. “I will.” I took the keys and held them in my hand. Matt, whom I barely knew, had stayed up all night watching my house. He’d changed my locks at the crack of dawn because he didn’t trust anybody else to do it. Jared had come over first thing to bring me keys. And Zach and Angelo had taken me in and treated me like a lifelong friend.

  “Thank you,” I said. “You guys have been great—”

  But they were already hushing me, telling me it was nothing, clearly uncomfortable with my gratitude. “There’s something else, though,” Jared said. “Matt said to tell you Dominic would probably stop by. He said you deserved fair warning.”

  My heart sank. Or maybe it swelled. It was hard to tell through the fog of my hangover whether I was terrified or relieved. “Oh,” I said, because it was all I could muster.

&nb
sp; “Want me to tell him to fuck off?” Angelo asked. “’Cause I will.”

  I laughed, imagining that scene. “I’ll decide when I’m more awake.”

  I finished my coffee and headed for the shower. I spent a long time standing under the cascade of hot water, trying to decide what to do if Dominic showed up. In the end, I had no idea. It depended a great deal on what he had to say for himself.

  Less than ten minutes after I’d dressed and combed my wet hair, the doorbell rang. Angelo and Jared had relocated into the living room, and Angelo glanced my way, waiting to hear my verdict.

  “I’ll get it,” I told him.

  Dominic looked amazing. Despite the stress and the hangover and my mix of anger and frustration, that was the first thing I thought upon seeing him. He was gorgeous, even with bags under his eyes and his hair a wild, uncombed mess. His shoulders slumped with obvious relief when I opened the door. “Hey.”

  That was it? Hey? “What do you want, Dom?”

  He winced. “Can I come in?”

  I held the door open and stood aside, but once he came inside, we were faced with both Angelo and Jared in the living room, watching us with unabashed curiosity.

  “In here,” I said quietly. I led him into the spare bedroom and closed the door behind us. It was a cramped space, with boxed puzzles piled on nearly every horizontal surface. I turned to face him, and as I did, he moved closer. I saw the desperate question in his eyes. He reached for me, but I held up my hands. “Stop.”

  He took a step back, tugging nervously on the zipper of his open leather jacket. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what, exactly?”

  He swallowed, looking around the narrow room. “Matt said somebody broke into your house.”

  So, he was sorry for my circumstances, not for what he’d done to me. Not for the fractured state of our relationship. “I’m fine.”