Shades of Henry (The Flophouse Book 1)

by Amy Lane

  “You’re not—” Jackson took a gulp of air. “—going to leave anything for Dr. Keller to bitch at.” They wheeled him through the corridor. “C’mon, guys, I called him first.”

  At that moment, a tiny African American woman with snow-white hair strode past Lance with a courtesy pat on his arm. “Excuse me, Dr. Luna,” Dr. Keller said. “This is my patient. His husband called me from the ambulance. I’ll take over if you don’t mind.”

  She did just that, asking Jackson questions, running by his stretcher on their way to ICU. Lance looked behind him in bemusement to see Henry’s lawyer sagging shakily against a wall.

  “Mr. Cramer?”

  Ellery looked up, wiping his mouth with his hand. “Dr.…?”

  “Hi, I’m sorry. I’m Dr. Luna. I stitched up Mr. Rivers’s back the other day. I’m Henry Worrall’s, uh, roommate?”

  Ellery straightened up and swallowed, his backbone going perpendicular to the ground and his shoulders squaring. “Oh, yes,” he said, his eyes shifting back to the corridor down which Jackson had disappeared. “Jackson said you were very good.”

  “That’s kind.” Lance forced himself to take a deep breath. “I… uh, I heard there were shots fired? Is Henry, uh….” His voice wobbled. “Is Henry okay?”

  Ellery heard the break at the end, though, and a pair of large dark-brown eyes snapped into focus.

  “Lance?” he said, a slight smile on his face. “That’s your name, right? You and Henry are in love?”

  Lance practically swallowed his tongue. “Uh, I’m not sure how Mr. Rivers got that, but—”

  Ellery shook his head. “It’s true,” he said, his eyes growing bright. “Jackson’s usually right about those things. Henry’s fine, Dr. Luna. All of us are fine except Jackson.” A crack appeared in Ellery’s façade then, and he wiped his face with the back of his hand. “Jackson’s never fine, but, you know, he does his best. But Henry’s okay. He won’t be arrested, and he’s no longer under suspicion.”

  “Thank God,” Lance whispered, wanting to hold on to the wall. “That’s… that’s really great to hear. Here, let’s get you to the waiting room, okay? You should hear something shortly.”

  “Thank you,” Ellery said, his voice stronger than the paleness in his cheeks suggested. “That’s nice of you.”

  Lance smiled crookedly. “I’m just so relieved to hear Henry’s okay. I thought I’d return the favor. So, all the bad guys are in jail?”

  Ellery grimaced. “Well, one of them is dead, one is heading to jail, and there are a few extraneous bad guys I probably have to brief the police about. But….” He waved his hand.

  “Priorities,” Lance said, understanding. “Henry’s all about solving the puzzle and getting the bad guys. I’m more about saving the patient. It’s a different way of thinking.”

  Ellery’s social smile grew a little stronger. “Lance, my friend, I have the feeling we’re going to enjoy being the only two sane people in a crazy world.”

  “Yessir. Your, uh, friend, Jackson Rivers—”

  Ellery looked at him sharply. “Dr. Keller believes he’s my husband. Perhaps we should let that, uh, stand?”

  Lance couldn’t protest. He’d been worried about Henry all week, and he wasn’t sure he could ever eat again. He couldn’t imagine how worried this man might be for Jackson Rivers, and how long he’d worried as well.

  “He was giving Henry pointers on how to get his PI’s license,” Lance said. “I… uh… I’m a little afraid.”

  Ellery met his eyes. “I don’t think Henry’s going to end up in the hospital nearly as much as Jackson does,” he said, and Lance couldn’t figure out if he was speaking with bitterness or humor. “But….” He bit his lip, and a wave of weariness passed over his features. “You just have to decide if it’s worth it. Do that right now. Before your relationship goes any further. Is the worry worth it?”

  “Yes,” Lance responded automatically. He heard his own voice in his ears and felt shock, but he wouldn’t take it back for the world. “It’s worth it.”

  “Then good luck.”

  They reached the waiting room and Lance gestured him in. “I’m afraid I need to get back to the ER. Usually I’m in the cardiac ward, but there are lots of hurt people today.”

  “I appreciate the guided tour,” Ellery said. Then as though remembering who he was, he continued, “I hope to see you soon. Perhaps Henry could bring you by. He seems to fit right in.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Lance nodded and backed away, trying to ignore the pounding of his own heart. He was halfway back to the madness of the ER when his pocket buzzed.

  I’m fine. Case is over. Jackson’s in the hospital. Will fill you in tonight. Don’t worry, okay?

  Lance stared at the text, his chest gradually warming as he caught his breath. I’ll always worry—but I’m glad you’re okay. Met Cramer in the ambulance bay. Cool customer. Good guy.

  How’s Jackson?

  Talking when he got here. That’s all I know.

  Good. He won’t die if he’s talking. Keep me posted.

  You too.

  Lance was about to put his phone back in his pocket when it buzzed one more time.

  Last night changed my life. See you tomorrow.

  He smiled, touching the face of the phone foolishly before texting, Me too. If Randy isn’t banging someone in his bed, you can sleep in my bed tonight. Later.

  Will think of you. Later.

  Okay, then. He could deal with this. Henry was safe, and he had an entire world to deal with. He sprinted toward the ER and another car wreck with renewed energy and purpose.

  He had a boyfriend, and his boyfriend had a mission. He himself should know there were worse things in life.

  LANCE STAGGERED home at nine o’clock the next night, after catching a few hours in the crib between shifts. Henry was reading quietly on the couch while Curtis sat in the stuffed chair with his laptop, and sounds of sex drifted out from Zep and Fisher’s half of the bedroom.

  “Randy and Billy?” Lance yawned.

  “Went to see a movie,” Henry said, getting up. “Here—hit the shower. Have you eaten?”

  Lance shook his head. “I could eat,” he said, because he knew he should, and because Henry would worry.

  “Liar,” Henry said with a grimace. “Go shower. I made something tonight you might not hate.”

  Lance emerged a dreamy half hour later and managed to find the kitchen table. Henry had plated chicken and veggies sautéed in a balsamic vinegar reduction that actually didn’t make him overfull. “This is perfect,” he breathed, trying to slow down between bites. “Where’d you get the recipe?”

  “I asked the guys,” Henry told him. “Apparently my mother’s stew and spaghetti were part of the problem. You kids and your fuckin’ carbs. Anyway, eat. Your bed’s all made, clean sheets and everything. We can talk when you can see straight, ’kay?”

  Lance managed to nod. “Morning?” he said hopefully. “I was gonna work out before my next shift.”

  Henry grimaced. “I actually got a thing I gotta do tomorrow.”

  Lance waited for a moment. “Go on….”

  “Rivers sort of runs this… I guess halfway house for junior ex-cons. He and Cramer have a friend who’s dating one of them. Anyway, I told him I’d go visit and see how they’re doing. He’s getting the feeling they’re ready to move somewhere else, and Cramer sent me some info to help them out. Then I get to sort of vet more ex-cons to see who I think would benefit most from the house after they leave.”

  “Wow,” Lance said, waking up a little just so he could marvel. “Rivers put you in charge of that?”

  “He’s sort of down for a bit. I guess he’s got to go in for surgery in a couple of weeks, and he’s under strict orders to eat well and sleep a lot and not go running all over the fuckin’ world. I gotta tell you, I’m tired. I don’t know how he does it.”

  “I hear you. Are you getting paid for this?” Because Henry felt like working for his brother
made him a burden.

  “Some,” Henry said. “And he’s got a friend who runs a housecleaning service too. Joey’s not a bad guy. We figured I could go in on Fridays since, you know, you usually have Mondays and Tuesdays off. So, that’ll bring in some extra income too, and I can still help my brother when he needs me, until school starts.”

  Lance had to smile a little. “Look at you, Henry. You have a life here. Friends, connections—not bad.”

  Henry shrugged. “Yeah, well, I’m doing some stuff Monday and Tuesday that’ll not get me paid. I’ll let you sleep in for the first thing, but the second might be up your alley, like, maybe you could help.”

  “What’s the first thing?” Lance’s brain hurt just parsing that sentence.

  Henry looked away. “It’s sort of… well, you’re gonna think this is stupid.”

  And Lance wanted to scream. “Henry, do you have any idea how much I don’t know about your last week? Any? At this point, I will take something stupid that will help me understand what happened here over something blind like ‘Don’t worry about it, Lance, it’ll be fine.’”

  Henry nodded, stood up, and wandered to the refrigerator and back. “I… look, there’s ice cream that I buy and nobody’s eating. Can I have some ice cream? Is that going to send someone over the fucking edge?”

  “No,” Curtis called from the couch, “but if you’re getting those Drumstick things, get me one or I’m gonna think you’re an asshole!”

  Henry and Lance met eyes and smiled. “There’s flavored ices in there too,” Lance said. “Get me one of those, and we’ll call it even.”

  “You want to come listen, legit?” Henry asked Curtis. “I mean, you could always pretend you’re still working over there and get the whole story, but this way you can ask me to repeat the hard parts.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Curtis closed his laptop and wandered over. “Wasn’t finding anything good there anyway.”

  “Whatcha looking for?” Lance asked, finishing off his veggies and chicken.

  “A job that’ll pay as much as porn for as little hours.” Curtis shrugged. “Not finding it. I mean, I get student loans and such, and I save money living here. Still, it looks like I’m in for another three years. No big deal.”

  “Joey’s housecleaning service pays pretty good,” Henry said. “But you might have to work there three days a week.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Curtis said dryly, which told them both that he really wouldn’t. “Anyway, c’mon, Henry. You tell me and I promise to gossip, okay?”

  “Okay.” Henry dished out dessert and sat down.

  Then he told them a story of violence and abuse and sex and drugs and murder, and how the drug-dealing porn star ended up dead in the dumpster, with Henry as the easiest guy to blame.

  When he was done, Lance could do nothing but stare blankly at him, while Curtis served up the recap.

  “So it was all about drug dealers and Daddy? Had nothing to do with you? Seriously?”

  “Pretty much,” Henry said, looking suddenly sad. “And don’t get me wrong—Martin Sampson’s father is a scumbag, pure and simple, but that other guy was a fucking psychopath. Man, I’m glad he’s dead.”

  Lance and Curtis met eyes and then looked at Henry again. “And how did that happen again?” Because Henry’s account had been sketchy.

  Henry let out a breath. “So… do you want the scary version or the action adventure version?”

  Lance closed his eyes and looked at Curtis, who shrugged.

  “I’ll take the ‘Is this going to come back and haunt us again’ version,” Lance said.

  Henry smiled faintly. “Probably not….” He bit his lip, looking embarrassed. “But that doesn’t mean there’s not wrap-up to it. See, Jackson called me this morning and asked… well, he asked if I wanted to come to a small memorial on Monday.”

  “For whom?” Who on earth would Henry be mourning?

  “For Martin Sampson,” Henry said softly. “Because he was an asshole, but he had help getting there, and it’s just not right that nobody comes to his funeral. It’s like… we want to say goodbye to the guy who might have been, you know?”

  Lance and Curtis stared at him.

  “That’s… that’s really….” Lance struggled for words.

  “Stupid,” Henry filled in with a roll of his eyes. “I get it.”

  “I was going to say wonderful,” Lance said softly. “He could have been so very much more.”

  “Yeah,” Henry agreed. “He could have. And I guess….” A flush washed over his pale features. “I guess I was his last scumbag straw. Like, that day I came to defend all the guys. He really loved my brother, and here I was, Davy’s little brother, telling him he was a scumbag. And suddenly, he didn’t want to be that guy anymore.”

  “And that’s what got him killed,” Curtis said in wonder.

  Henry looked uncomfortable. “Exactly. So it only seemed right we sort of… honor that. Honor that there was a part of him who didn’t want to be that guy. It’s really important to Jackson that we not let that go.”

  Lance nodded and bumped Henry’s knee with his own. “You sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

  “No.” Henry shook his head for emphasis. “This is… it’s my thing, I guess.”

  Lance raised his eyebrows, and Henry blinked, an entire conversation in that exchange.

  You’ll tell me later, right?

  Yeah. But not in front of Curtis.

  “So what’s the thing you want my help with?” Lance asked, yawning.

  “I’ll tell you tomorrow before we split,” Henry said gently. “You’re so tired, you won’t even remember.”

  “That’s not fair.” Lance yawned again. “I will too!”

  Henry helped him up from the table and exchanged an amused look with Curtis that might have pissed Lance off if he could only stop yawning.

  “C’mon, Dr. Feel Good—let’s get some shuteye.”

  “This isn’t fair.” Lance pouted, stumbling along with Henry anyway. “You have this super exciting life, and I just—”

  “Save people from heart attacks. Yeah, you’re such a shut-in. C’mon, sweetheart, let’s get you in bed—”

  “Lie down with me?” Lance begged. “Just until I’m asleep. Or, you know. Bring your book. You can read it in bed next to me. Or your phone. Set your phone. Or—”

  “Sh… sh, sh….” Henry kissed his temple. “Don’t worry. You had me with ‘bed.’”

  They got to Lance’s room, and Henry stripped out of his cargo shorts and his T-shirt before helping Lance into the twin-sized bed and sliding in next to him.

  “Mm….” Lance burrowed up against him, snuggling his face against Henry’s chest and stroking his stomach with an idle hand. “God, this is all I wanted. All, you understand. All I wanted. Two days and I wanted this. I saw Jackson’s boyfriend, and he looked… looked like the world was caving in on him. It made me just… just really grateful you were okay.”

  Lance remembered to pull his head back and checked. “You are okay, aren’t you? I mean, are you traumatized? Do we need a shrink or a counselor or something?”

  Henry let out a strained chuckle. “I was a soldier, remember? Deployed? War zone?” He sighed. “It wasn’t pretty, I can’t lie. But I was less worried about the dead guy than I was about Rivers making it. Man, he scared me. All of Jackson’s people were there, and he’d put himself in danger for me. And they were there and I was there, and it really was fucking terrifying.”

  “Fucking brave,” Lance mumbled.

  “Yeah.” Henry dropped a kiss in Lance’s hair. “Fucking brave.”

  “But… I still don’t understand who killed the bad guy,” Lance said, and Henry grunted.

  “Have you ever… I don’t know, walked into a staff meeting of people who were way above your pay grade?” he asked after a minute.

  Lance tried to reason. “Once. Board members, trying to decide funding, I think. They were… well, sort of cavalier, I
guess. I kept thinking that this funding decided if people lived or died.”

  Henry smoothed his hair back from his face. “Yeah. Well, Jackson and Cramer know people on that board. I figure at this juncture, they’re my COs, so I just smiled and nodded.”

  “That’s scary,” Lance murmured, not sure he could wrap his head around it right now.

  “It is. But in the end, I think it boiled down to Rivers and Cramer, taking care of their people. Me included. And you know what? I’m sort of okay with that.”

  “Really?” Lance asked, not sure he’d ever be.

  “Look. When Jackson was looking like hell, I told him it would be okay if they arrested me—I knew he and Cramer and you and John and Galen and my brother would work to get me out. I’d be okay. And he said, ‘Yeah, but you’re my friend and I don’t want you in jail.’”

  “Wow,” Lance mumbled, moved in spite of himself.

  “Yeah. So he’s got people that will do the same thing for him. That’s why we’re going to help him and Cramer put this case to bed.”

  Lance had to double-check to make sure his eyes were still open. “I’m sorry?”

  “There was a loose end, a nurse named Frasier, who wasn’t arrested. Rivers and I heard her having sex with Martin Sampson’s father, and we’re pretty sure she’s been stealing drugs from patients and only giving them half doses—”

  “Oh my God!” Lance went to sit up. “We have to tell the ethics board, and there’s a whole department for that and—”

  “And we have to get her arrested and provide cold, hard evidence first,” Henry said, and Lance calmed down a little, because Henry was right. “Now lie back down.”

  Lance slid into bed again, his bones turning to jelly with that last burst of adrenaline. “Fine. Sure. Whatever.”

  “Well, do you want to help me find evidence or not?” Henry asked when he was settled again.

  Lance was almost asleep, but he wasn’t so far gone he missed what this was about.

  “You want me to see why you like it,” he said. “So I know why this is what you want to do.”

  Henry stroked his hair back again. “Yeah.”