"Left turn here." Ace pointed down the road. "I'm the last one on the left. Gone how?"
"Does it matter?" He pulled up to a low apartment building, children's toys littering the small yard. Ace got out, wavering and putting his hand against the car door. "I'll walk you to your door."
"My fucking hero." But Ace didn't protest when Liam ducked down to get an arm around him. "I'm usually better at holding my booze then this."
"You're like five feet tall, and you downed an entire bottle of Jack. I don't think you have to worry about your masculinity taking a hit."
"I'm five-four, asshole. Five-five in boots. Can't help if I'm surrounded by giants." Ace made for one white door, digging his pocket and producing a set of keys. It took a few tries to get it into the lock, and Liam let loose a yawn waiting.
"Great. You're gonna fall asleep at the wheel like that." Ace shoved at him, sloppily. "Get in here. I've got a couch you can sleep on."
"I can drive home," Liam protested, stumbling over a pair of boots in the dark. "It's not that far."
"You have to drive me back to the shop in the morning anyway. Left my car there." Ace hit the light, then groaned. "Too bright. Shit."
The apartment was tiny, the couch taking up the bulk of the living room. It was cluttered, but not messy. No weird smells lingered anywhere, unlike some of Liam's friends' places.
"I can just come back."
"Yeah, yeah. You always look five seconds away from falling asleep at the best of times. Now you look like a damn zombie. Just take the couch. It's comfortable, I swear. Sleep on it all the time." Ace stumbled toward a door that Liam guessed was the bathroom. "If you leave, I'll deck you next time I see you. Even if I have to stand on a stool to do it."
Tentatively, Liam sat down on the couch. It was soft, giving. He toed off his shoes and stretched out. He could fake sleep for a bit and leave once Ace had passed out. Closing his eyes against the light, he listened to the hum of the fridge and the clatter of water running in the bathroom. Upstairs someone walked over creaking floorboards.
"You would be even prettier asleep," someone said from far away. "Goddamn, you're trouble."
"M'not," he protested, warmth settling around him. "M'good. Always good now."
"Yeah, you are." A hand brushed over his forehead, and the ghost of a kiss passed over his lips. "Sleep well."
And Liam did.
Chapter Five
Liam dreamed of drowning. A heavy weight rested on his chest, pushing him below the waves. Sunlight filtered through the water, getting improbably brighter. He woke syrup slow, coming up through the dense waves and still struggling for breath.
Solemn amber eyes met his with sleepy interest while a deep rumbling purr rattled through Liam's ribs.
"Hello there." Liam reached out cautiously, letting the cat sniff his fingers before running his hands over chocolate brown ears and cream head. "You must be George."
The cat purred impossibly louder, like rocks in a washing machine, eyes sliding shut. He was a massive thing, long and plump. It was difficult to imagine him as a rain bedraggled kitten abandoned in the parking lot. Ace must feed him three times a day, judging by how hard it was getting for Liam to breathe.
"He'll stay there all day if you let him," Ace said from somewhere off to the left of the couch. The smell of bacon and eggs penetrated along with the faint sounds of industry. "Lazy beast."
"Me or the cat?" Liam got up slowly, giving George ample time to depart as if the move had been his idea. Reluctantly, the cat jumped to the floor and set in on washing the long dark snake of his tail.
"The cat. I didn't think you'd be awake for another few hours."
"I don't sleep much. Can I use your bathroom?"
"Go for it. You might have to jiggle the flusher. It gets sticky sometimes."
The door to the bedroom was cracked open which left finding the bathroom an easy game of elimination. Humidity hung in the air despite an open window, and the smell of peppermint was overwhelming as Liam washed his face in an attempt to feel less grimy. He hated sleeping in his clothes.
When he emerged, he found Ace on the recently abandoned couch with a plate in his hands, and on the coffee table sat another food-laden plate that George was regarding with proprietary interest.
"Thanks."
"No problem. Figured it was the least I can do after you hauled us all over creation yesterday." Ace stretched out, propping his bare feet up on the coffee table. There was a blurry black tattoo on his ankle, old and unprofessional. "There's coffee too, but I wasn't sure how you took it."
"Lots of milk if I'm drinking it, but I usually stick to tea."
Liam folded himself onto the other half the couch and set into his eggs. He couldn't remember the last time someone had cooked for him. It was just scrambled eggs and bacon a little crunchier than he liked it, but it was still good. Better than good.
"What's that supposed to be? On your ankle?"
"That old thing?" Ace sighed. "An old bad idea. Go ahead, take a look and you tell me what it is."
Liam leaned forward, tentatively putting one hand on Ace's shin for balance. He could feel hard muscle jump a little under the skin. It was hard to tell what the artist had intended, the piece looked more like a Rorschach test than anything else, but Liam could make out wings of some kind.
"An eagle?"
"Worse." Ace didn't pull away, letting Liam's hand linger. "Phoenix. First thing I ever inked."
"You tattooed yourself?" Liam stared at the mess of it, rubbing his thumb over one wing. Ace's skin was thin on the spot, pulled taut over bone. For a brief lunatic second, Liam wondered what would happen if he laid a kiss there.
"Seemed like the thing to do at the time. Told you. I was a dumb kid. Made bad choices."
"So did I." Liam let his hands drop away before the moment stretched too long.
"Can't imagine that." Ace raised his eyebrows. "You're so... well-behaved most of the time."
"That's me. A real Eagle Scout." Recovering his plate, but having lost his appetite, Liam chased the eggs around with his fork. "I should get going."
"Why? I'm not going to kick you out. Nothing much to get done today." Ace set down his plate, letting George lick up bacon grease, which clarified one mystery at least. "Do you have plans or something?"
"Yeah. Gotta be somewhere around nine."
"It's after nine already, man."
"What?" Liam reached for his cellphone. "Shit. No idea I slept late."
"You got like five hours of sleep max. Cut yourself some slack." Ace glanced at the phone. "I do need that ride back to the shop though. Get my car?"
"Right," Liam groaned. "Okay, let me just make a call. Tell him I'm going to be late."
"How long do you have to be wherever you're going?"
"Two or three hours." He scrubbed at his face. It depended when Gene took his midday nap. Usually Liam went out for lunch while he slept and came back in the afternoon. "It's no big deal. I can drop you off before I run over."
"You're late because of me. It's cool, I'll come with. I can bring a book or whatever."
"No! No, it's fine."
"I can wait in the car. Crack a window and I won't even suffocate. Couldn't do my hangover any harm to take a nap in a warm car." Ace was watching him now, alert to Liam's panic.
"It's fine," Liam snapped. "Please. Let me just... I'll drop you off and then go."
"What? Is this some kind of embarrassing doctor's visit? Gotta side job somewhere sketchy?" Ace grinned. "Sketchier than Great Sin? 'Cause I'd feel jealous if you did, but I'd understand. Can't live off what I'm paying you."
"No." He found his shoes by the door and jammed his feet into them. "Nothing like that."
"So what is it then?"
"Nothing! Just... leave it, okay?" He reached down and yanked his laces tight.
"I just don't get why you're all..." Ace waved his hands around in frustration. "It's like you have this cloud hanging around you all the time, and it won
't let anyone else in. How much baggage could someone your age possibly be carrying?"
"I'm not that mysterious." Liam tied a knot. "You know stuff about me."
"I don't even know what college you go to! Your resume was like a master class in evasion. I don't know if you have parents or if you were hatched out of an egg. Goose is half-convinced you're a spy, and Deb thinks you're a runaway or something with a solid fake ID. You never talk about other friends or family, so I gotta guess you're not talking to anyone else either. You can't go through life like that." Ace shook his head. "Did we talk about this last night? I've got some blurry déjà vu."
"Maybe." Liam checked his pockets, only half-listening to Ace's rant. He was already racing ahead to the hospice, counting the minutes wasted sleeping. If Ace kept arguing with him, all that lost time would only keep mounting. "Come on, if we hustle then he might not notice I'm late."
"Who won't notice?" Ace picked up their plates, dumping them in the sink.
"I don't have to tell you." It came out petulant, and Liam had to take in a shuddering breath. The morning had gone from peaceful to tense in a handful of seconds. Worse, he knew it was his fault. He didn't mean to be secretive. He just preferred to deal with things on his own, in his own way. "Sorry."
"It's true, you don't have to tell me." Ace turned from the sink to look him over. "But man, it sure seems like you should talk to someone. Are there people you can call? Maybe from school?"
"They all have day jobs or take classes." He'd tried a few times and they'd chatted in snatches, but Liam had never got the hang of talking on the phone. Besides, none of them knew why it all mattered so much. He'd never explained his history to them. Moving to California had been a fresh blank page. "And anyway, I'm fine."
"You know that ninety-six percent of people are lying when they say I'm fine?" Ace pushed off from the counter.
"Yeah? What study was that?"
"Informal one. Performed by me." Ace picked up his boots and sat down to tug them on. "Been told I'm not a bad listener."
"Why do you care? You barely know me."
"And whose fault is that?" It was deceptively mild, but Liam read the bitterness beneath it.
"I don't--" He started then stopped dead. Ace watched him with a raised eyebrow. "It's old scars. I don't like picking at them."
"Yet, you have to go see them."
"Gene is the good part." Liam let out a long breath, unaware he'd been holding it. "And he's dying. So forgive me if I don't want to spill my life story to you. I just want to go see him and enjoy the stupidly small amount of time he has left."
"Shit." Ace got to his feet. "Sorry to hear that, really I am."
"Not as sorry as I am."
"Why don't you tell me about him then? On the way there." Ace stroked a hand over George's head then scooped up his keys. "If he's the good part."
"I don't know if I can tell the good without the bad."
"Don't know if you've noticed, Professor, but my life isn't always roses and beer in the sunshine." Ace shrugged. "I think I can take it."
Of course Ace could take it. To him it would just be words. A story without any of the feeling that went along with it. It was Liam who thought the telling of it might twist salted knives into old wounds. Cuts he liked to think were long healed but still opened up bleeding at odd moments.
It was stupid really. It would be just as fast to drop Ace off at his car and then swing by St. Francis. Liam could tell him nothing or just an anecdote or something and that would probably satisfy him. Maybe Ace was asking out of some weird obligation or strained concern about an employee. Ace rescued lost kittens and released spiders back into the wild, after all. He liked to save things. Liam had no interest in being saved. He'd done that on his own, years ago.
Yet as they got back in the car, Ace adjusted his seat so he could put his feet up on the dash like he'd ridden beside Liam a dozen times. There was something about the casual line of his body and the silent attention he offered up that twisted Liam's throat open. Despite his misgivings, he started to talk.
"Gene is sort of my uncle. He was married to my aunt anyway. They watched me a lot when I was little. My parents were away all the time, running the family business. Which was supposedly textiles."
"Supposedly?" Ace prodded when Liam went quiet again.
"That's what it said on their tax forms." He slotted the key into the ignition. "They had offices with nameplates on their doors. I used to think that was the coolest thing when I was little."
"My mom bought me a nameplate when I opened the shop." Ace titled his head against the window. "Looked weird though. Out of place. Think it's hidden in the backroom somewhere. So what were they like, your parents?"
"When they were around," Liam started the car, half-hoping the engine would drown him out, "they didn't get along. Not with me, or each other. There were fights that woke the neighbors, you know? Gene, he would pick me up in the middle of the night sometimes. One of the neighbors used to call him, I think, when it got loud. He'd take me back to my aunt's place, and we'd watch old movies until I could fall asleep."
"And your aunt?"
"She'd let us do our thing. Never seemed interested one way or another. She wasn't home either, most of the time. Part of the family business."
"That sounds more and more ominous every time you say it." Ace frowned. "What was it really?"
"Long-term cons. Took them years sometimes to get the money, but they were good. Patient."
"What, like Ocean's 11?" Ace asked.
"No," Liam snorted, "nothing like that. It's not... romantic or cool or James Bond at all. They took people's pensions, their nest eggs and savings accounts, promised them things or played on their weaknesses. Once the first charges were laid, people kept coming out of the woodwork. Twenty-two counts of fraud. They all got thirty years. Mom might get out early for good behavior, but Dad keeps getting in fights. My aunt died a few years back. Cancer."
"Jesus!" Ace's eyes widened. "And you were how old when they got caught?"
"They all got arrested when I was ten. I came home from school and the house was empty, but that wasn't unusual. I think I wound up making myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for dinner." The milk he drank had been a little sour, lingering in his mouth for hours as he waited for someone to come home. Even now, he couldn't drink milk straight without his stomach turning. "Social services came to get me the next morning, and I stayed with a foster family for a week or so while they sorted everything out."
"Damn. That's... really not what I was expecting." Ace's fingers twitched and for a moment, Liam thought he might actually reach across the seats to comfort him. Liam wasn't sure he could take that right now.
"It worked out." He said stiffly, shifting subtly away. "Gene wasn't a part of it. Turned out he was sort of a retirement plan for my aunt. Someone with a steady job for when times got lean. So when the smoke cleared, it was the two of us left standing."
"So he raised you."
"Yeah. Anyone else probably would have let me go into the system, but he took me in. He didn't have to do it. I don't know what would've happened to me if he didn't."
"And now he's dying." Ace smiled at him tightly. "Knew you had a sad story."
"Yeah, that's what Deb said, too. Gene wouldn't say it was sad though. Always said he wanted a kid and he got one, maybe later than he planned." He gunned it around a pottering Oldsmobile, relishing the hit of distracting speed. "He's seventy-five now. Got Hep C from a bad blood transplant a long time ago. Kidneys started failing and he did dialysis, but there's complications. Last month they moved him to hospice care."
"And you came home." Ace stared blankly out the window. Liam could practically see the pieces falling into place for him. "And you spend every day with him, don't you?"
"He's the only person in the world that gave a damn about me when it really mattered. I'm not going to let him die alone." Liam swallowed down heat and bile. "I promised him I'd be there while he was awa
ke."
"But he sleeps a lot. Especially at night. And it's obvious you can't sleep worth a damn." Ace drummed his fingers over his thigh. "So you figure, you'll find a night job. Something to fill the dark hours. And here's me thinking you applied 'cause you enjoyed it."
"Yeah." Liam's chest burned. "Yeah, exactly. It's not -- I do like the work. It's not just to fill the time."
"I wouldn't care if it was. You do good art. The whys of it don't matter to me." Ace tilted his head a little, and Liam waited for the inevitable pity or hollow reassurances. "So what's he like?"
"Gene?" Liam frowned. "Why?"
"Well you said you didn't want to talk about the bad parts, and I said talk about the good parts and you decided to tell me the bad parts. Which is cool, by the way, but tell me now. The good stuff."
"He's funny," Liam said immediately. "He's got a big heart. We used to have strays from all over the neighborhood in our house. Cats, dogs, birds, ferrets, you name it. Even a chipmunk with a broken paw for a while. Maybe he should've been a vet. Guess you could say I was one of the strays." He tried on a smile, but it wouldn't stay, sliding off again. "He loved my aunt a lot, even when he found out that their whole life together was a lie. Never did really accept that. He'd visit her every chance he could in prison and write her long letters when he couldn't. I still don't get that. All this time passed, and I still can't forgive my parents. He's a different sort of person, I guess. For every problem I ever had, he has a story about something like that happening to a guy at work or a cousin or a friend."
"I know guys like that." Ace smiled a little.
"Goose reminds me of him sometimes." The comparison had occurred to him more than once, and he took comfort in Goose's familiar feel-good energy. "Though Goose is too out there. Gene's pretty traditional in a lot of ways. He doesn't care about my being gay or anything, but I know he wishes I'd find someone and settle down."
"Maybe he just wants you to be happy. Some people have a pretty limited idea of what happy means."
"Maybe." Liam glanced at him. "What about you? What's your idea of happy?"
Stories Beneath Our Skin Page 6
