Fortitude Smashed

by Taylor Brooke

  Karman shook her head. “Oh, no. He meant me and his raptor of a boyfriend. Which reminds me, he smokes? You’re dating someone who smokes? That’s disgusting, Shannon. And you,” she shoved her index finger at Marcus, “you didn’t tell me that was your brother. You just said he was harmless.”

  “He’s not harmless,” Shannon groaned.

  “He’s totally harmless,” Marcus retorted, tipping his head back to laugh. “It’s just the way he carries himself. He looks threatening, but he’s not. He’s a good kid.”

  “He’s not a kid, Marcus. He’s a criminal and he doesn’t look like a threat, he looks like a vampire.” Karman rolled her eyes.

  “He doesn’t look like a vampire,” Shannon hissed.

  Karman nodded. “He does. I bet you anything he’s been to that weird fetish bar in L.A. The sin bar or whatever it is.”

  “Bar Sinister?” Shannon scoffed. “He’s never been there.”

  Marcus dipped his head as if to say, yes he has, and nodded along, keeping quiet.

  “Let’s ask him when he gets back.” Her lips thinned into a forced smile.

  “He’s made bad choices, but he’s not a bad guy,” Marcus said, softer this time. She glanced away. “You shouldn’t judge.”

  “I’m a cop, Marcus,” she bit.

  “Doesn’t mean you need to be like this,” Shannon said. The toe of his shoe whacked her shin under the table. “You’re the one who’s kept on about me being accepting, and now when you meet him this is how you act? Get off your high horse, and stop embarrassing yourself. Did you forget that you’re here with his brother and his boyfriend?”

  Shannon settled for smoldering at Karman rather than admonishing her in front of her date. She stared at him, face hardened into bitterness and defeat. She was wrong. He knew she was wrong, Marcus knew she was wrong, and she knew she was wrong. But pride was Karman’s downfall, and even though she’d been caught, she wasn’t going to back down. Instead she blushed, huffed, and stood up.

  “Fine. I’m getting a beer,” she said. Embarrassment blinked across her face before she stifled it. “And French fries. You guys will eat some, right?”

  Marcus and Shannon nodded.

  “Will Aiden eat any?” she muttered.

  “I’m sure he will,” Shannon said. He tried to meet her eyes, but she looked at the floor.

  Marcus nodded again. “Yeah, he’ll eat anything; get ketchup.”

  Karman walked away. Her heels smacked the floor on each step.

  Shannon stared at his hands nestled together in his lap. He glanced up when Marcus cleared his throat. “This is awkward,” he said, taking the honest route rather than the polite one. He offered a feeble smile, but it faded quickly.

  Marcus shrugged, unfazed. “Our parents adopted Aiden when I was five years old. They carried him in, balled up in a blue blanket, a little white glowworm…” He laughed, and so did Shannon. “I knew right then, right when mom handed him to me and said, ‘you’re his big brother, he’s gonna need you,’ I knew that I would love him more than anything. And I do. He’s my own terrible wonderful, you know?”

  What a beautiful way to put it, Shannon thought, and he nodded. “I do know.”

  “Where are you from, Shannon?” Marcus smiled through his words; his hands were laced around the knee that was kicked over his thigh. “You hide it well, but I heard it come through.”

  “Milford, a small town about an hour east of Savannah. I made my way to California for college and ended up staying. Joined the police force and got partnered with Karman. She’s my best friend, believe it or not.”

  “I believe it,” Marcus assured. “You two bicker like Aiden and I, which means you’re close. It’s a good thing.”

  The conversation paused while a waiter dropped off their pizza and three large cups of ranch dressing. Karman followed, munching on French fries, with a beer bottle pinched between her middle and index finger. Moments later, Fae appeared and bounced into a chair next to Karman. Aiden sat beside Shannon with a shiny fluorescent caterpillar sticker stuck to his cheek.

  “We shot zombies,” Fae said. She gave one heavy nod. “Lots of them. We got stickers, too. He’s a bug; I’m a monkey.” She pointed to the shiny monkey sticker on her forehead.

  “Oh, yeah? That’s good. Did you thank him for the sticker and for playing with you?” Karman asked, but her eyes stayed glued to Aiden. They stared at each other, an unnerving sight, until Aiden tilted his head.

  “She did,” Aiden said. “Did you guys have a nice talk?”

  “Oh, it was great. Hey, by the way, have you ever been to that goth bar… you know the one, it’s in Hollywood, Bar Sinister?”

  If Shannon could’ve scrambled across the top of the table and strangled her, he would’ve.

  “Yeah, I used to go all the time. What’s it to you, Detective?” Aiden hummed. One eye closed around a coy wink.

  Wearing a smug grin, Karman swirled back in her seat. Both brows shot up, and she held her hands against her chest, mock surrender. “Nothing, hot stuff. Just curious. So, what do you do, Aiden? Shannon says you work at 101—sorry about Barrow, by the way, and that whole situation.” She circled her fingers around her mouth, in the same place Aiden’s was still healing. “Shannon told me what happened. He’s a complete moron.”

  “It’s fine,” Aiden said and coughed, flicking his eyes to Shannon.

  “What happened?” Marcus asked.

  “I got arrested—for nothing this time—ask Shannon.”

  “It was for nothing,” Shannon confirmed.

  Marcus narrowed his eyes and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “And you got out of it because he is who he is?” He gestured loosely to Shannon.

  “That’s exactly how, that and the fact that he hadn’t done anything wrong,” Shannon said, dulling his tone from sharp to stern. He flicked his gaze to his partner. “Karman, you didn’t tell me you were dating.”

  Karman tensed. Marcus chewed a mouthful of pizza. Aiden snatched a fry. Shannon hadn’t been in such an awkward situation in years. He couldn’t remember when he was so fully strung between resentment and amusement. Surely he’d never been witnessed a web of lives as tangled as this table was.

  “Surprise,” she sang, lifting her beer bottle.

  Shannon lifted his, too.

  Marcus gave a bold, loud laugh. Aiden followed suit. Shannon fought the urge to join in, so Karman beat him to it. Suddenly there was a cacophony of laughter. Karman shook her head and covered her mouth with her hand. Aiden played with Shannon’s fingertips under the table. Even Fae giggled, picking jalapeños off her pizza and replacing them with French fries.

  “You’ve got a good laugh, Karman.” Aiden rested his elbows on the table. He sipped his beer. Something in the way he said, you’ve got a good laugh, sounded more like, we’re even, and it was a relief.

  “Wurther told me you were good-looking; he used the word ‘gorgeous,’ actually. He wasn’t lying,” Karman said.

  Aiden’s gaze drifted from Karman to Shannon, who ate his pizza and pretended he hadn’t heard a word.

  “He gets it from his brother.” Marcus sighed playfully.

  “Gorgeous, huh?” Aiden whispered, fingers crawling across Shannon’s leg.

  Shannon’s eyes swept sideways. Cheeks tinted, Aiden smiled at his plate. Moments like this, quiet and secret, were gentle rarities. Shannon couldn’t get enough of them.

  He didn’t say anything; he didn’t have to.

  “I think he is, too,” Fae whispered.

  Shannon bit back his grin, shook his head, and snatched Aiden’s hand under the table.

  23

  December was a fraction of a breath—fogged and brief. As quickly as it came, it left.

  The day after their night out at Papa’s Pizza Parlor, Karman called to apologize for being what she flavo
rfully labeled a crusty bitch, and Shannon forgave her. She explained in vivid detail how angry she’d been over nothing and burst into tears on the phone. “Shannon,” she’d said, “I’m so fucking happy for you.” And Shannon had listened while she talked about her lost Rose Road; the echo of her voice told him she was locked in her bathroom, hiding from Fae. Shannon didn’t know what to say, so he said, “I love you, you crazy bitch.” And they laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

  Midway through the month, Shannon received a call from Laguna Beach Canvas & Sculpt. He stopped by one night after work and inspected the collection. Canvases large and small covered the wall behind the staircase, and the same silver-haired woman who’d assisted him before helped him pick one. “Good choice,” she’d said, eyeing him carefully. “I’m guessing this Rose Road of yours is a collector?”

  And Shannon had laughed, startling her, before he’d said, “Something like that.”

  However, the piece wouldn’t be available until the collection had served its time in the gallery. Shannon agreed to pay for it and pick it up in March. But he was left without a Christmas gift, and that was unacceptable. So, he did his research and found the highest rated photography supply store in Laguna, and he went there.

  December always shot by, but this year, on this Christmas Eve, Shannon hoped it would slow down. He opened the door to Aiden’s apartment, and Mercy greeted him by winding around his feet. On the other side of the room, standing on bare tiptoes, Aiden hung ornaments on a withered clearance Christmas tree.

  “How much did you spend on it? Five dollars? Four?” Shannon laughed. He set a bottle of spiced rum on the counter and put a carton of eggnog in the fridge.

  Aiden shrugged; an unlit cigarette dangled from his mouth. “It’s all they had left.” He grinned. “But it’ll work. It looked even more pathetic strapped to the roof of Marcus’ van.” He flicked one of the glittering orbs. “I got ornaments from the dollar store, too. Aren’t they great?”

  “That tree is hideous.”

  Aiden plucked the cigarette from his lips so he could laugh in agreement. “Oh, c’mon, it’s doing its best.”

  While Aiden smoked on the balcony, Shannon made drinks. He took them outside, where the bitter air sent goose bumps across his arms. The sleeve of Aiden’s blue sweatshirt slid off one shoulder; his sweats hung low on his hips. He angled his mouth and blew a gust of gray smoke over the balcony.

  “You’ve only got a few more days of that,” Shannon said, gesturing at the glowing orange tip of the cigarette.

  “I know. That’s why I’m smoking twice as much.”

  Shannon handed him an eggnog.

  “Tomorrow should be interesting.” Aiden sipped his drink and rolled his lips together. “I haven’t done anything for Christmas in years. Me and Marcus usually just make food and watch Hallmark specials.”

  “It’ll be fun. Karman’s a great cook.”

  Aiden stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. “Do you want your gift now or in the morning?”

  “Depends on what it is.”

  “It’s not edible, it doesn’t make any noise, and it’s not wrapped.”

  “In the morning.” Shannon grinned. “You don’t get yours until the morning anyway because I left it in my car by accident.”

  “Oh.” Aiden’s brow furrowed. “Smooth move, Detective.”

  They drank two cocktails each, enough to warm them up and settle them in, but not enough to do much else. They decorated the tree with Aiden’s bargain ornaments, strung tinsel around its cracked, near-brown branches, and chased Mercy off when she tried to climb it. After they both stood back and took a good look at it, Aiden snapped a picture with his phone. Shannon noticed him fiddling with it, swiping one way, then another.

  “What’re you doing?”

  “Posting on my Instagram,” Aiden mumbled.

  Shannon snatched Aiden’s phone, which catapulted them to the floor, arms and legs and hands everywhere. Aiden scrambled for his phone, hissing and biting curses under his breath.

  “You have an Instagram? Of all the social media, you choose the one I don’t have. Why?”

  “Because you don’t have it.” Aiden seethed. He maneuvered his phone from Shannon’s grip and flashed the screen. “There, look, see it? Just an Instagram. You told me I should take pictures, so I have been.”

  “Look at that…” Shannon glanced from each square picture to the next. One was of a coffee cup with the beach in the background. Another was of Mercy, sprawled in one of the chairs on the porch. Cocktails lined up on 101’s bar. “Hey!” Shannon tried to grab the phone, but Aiden pulled it away. “That was me, wasn’t it?”

  Aiden’s eyes narrowed, and he sat up, crossing his legs beneath him on the beige carpet beside their scrawny Christmas tree. He showed Shannon the picture, which was softly lit by early morning light, Shannon’s eyes half-open, on white sheets. Aiden’s hand rested on his cheek, and gave viewers the sense that they were the ones reaching out to touch him.

  “What does the caption say?” Shannon asked.

  Aiden’s mouth tightened. He shook his head and said, “Nothing.”

  When Aiden tried to stand, Shannon snatched his ankles, knocking him back to the ground. “Show me!”

  Aiden thrashed in his grip, finagled his way out, and darted down the hall. Shannon’s hands caught Aiden’s waist before he made it through the bedroom door.

  “Show me.” Shannon laughed against Aiden’s neck, who heaved in breath after breath with a bashful grin.

  “It says what a view,” Aiden whispered. He scrolled down to display the caption. Low and behold it said: what a view. Below it a comment from an account named “creatureflower” said: damn boy who is that? why didn’t you tell me?

  “Who is creatureflower?” Shannon laughed through his nose, which was embarrassing.

  “Daisy,” Aiden said, gentle and warm. He clicked on her profile, scrolled, brought up a picture. “That’s us in high school. Way back when.”

  Shannon leaned over Aiden’s shoulder with his arms wrapped around his middle. In the photo, Aiden had one eye closed, mouth open, tongue out, and he was flipping off the camera. His head was closely shaved, and he wore a faded band T-shirt. Daisy was thrown over his back with her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist. She had shoulder-length, jet-black hair; a narrow face; pretty, small eyes; and black lipstick. They both had silver hoops dangling from their septums.

  “You had a piercing?”

  “Have,” Aiden said playfully. He reached up with his thumb and index finger, sniffed once, wrinkled his nose, and pulled the two silver spikes from his nostrils. “We did them ourselves at a party one night.” He snickered under his breath. “We were idiots.”

  Shannon craned his head, moving one hand to Aiden’s cheek. “Let me see.” Shannon pushed Aiden’s jaw until he turned to look at him. The dainty silver spikes diving from Aiden’s nostrils didn’t look as obscene as Shannon had thought they would. He quirked a brow. “It looks good. Why’d you hide it?”

  “Why’d you hide your accent?”

  “Fair enough.”

  Aiden turned around in Shannon’s arm and his fingers curled around Shannon’s wrist. He tossed his phone on the floor near the closet, unzipped his sweatshirt, and let it fall off his shoulders.

  Shannon watched, trailing his gaze across Aiden’s bare torso as though he’d never seen it before. He saw it often, practically every day. But he didn’t often see Aiden with this confidence. Shannon watched a fire eat away at Aiden’s composure. Aiden flicked Shannon’s belt loose and slid it from his jeans.

  “Done with Instagram already?” Shannon said. He stepped closer, and Aiden nodded.

  “Done with a few things.”

  “Like?”

  Aiden dropped Shannon’s belt and hooked his fingers through the two belt loops below his
hips.

  “Taking it slow,” Aiden said.

  Shannon touched the top of Aiden’s hands and guided them away from his jeans. He laced their fingers, and Aiden’s hands flexed. Shannon glanced from their busy hands to Aiden’s mouth and his red and bitten lips.

  Aiden pulled on Shannon’s wrists. He stumbled over a pair of Vans. Aiden’s back hit the bed first. He pulled, and Shannon fell, to be granted a flurry of warm lips on his mouth, his neck, his temples.

  Taking it slow consisted of doing exactly what Karman had suggested—letting Aiden do what he pleased, when he pleased. Shannon had never said it, but he didn’t know what Aiden had been worried about. So far, Aiden had been careful, timid at times, but nothing shy of a superb lover.

  Now it was Shannon who was nervous.

  “You sure?”

  “Are you?” Aiden said, pulling Shannon’s shirt over his head. His eyes flashed in the darkness, holding Shannon’s attention.

  Shannon shoved Aiden’s sweats down until they were kicked away; his mouth was on Aiden’s throat and his hands were around his thighs, picking his hips up off the bed.

  00:00

  Aiden had planned it.

  He would never tell Shannon, but it was the truth. He’d made the decision last week. Since then, he hadn’t been able to focus on anything else.

  It wasn’t some magical, monumental moment; Aiden prevented it from being that by fooling around with Shannon as much as possible. He’d put his hands where he wanted and his mouth where he wanted; he’d made sure to familiarize himself with Shannon’s body and encouraged Shannon to become familiar with his. This was different, though. This was what they’d been putting off, the line they’d never crossed, the point in their foolery where they’d always eased away from each other.

  Virgin was such a juvenile word, when Aiden thought about it. After everything they’d done together, Aiden was sure he wasn’t considered one, but still, he’d planned Christmas Eve as the last night he’d ever use the label.

  “How do you want to do this?” Shannon asked breathlessly against Aiden’s sternum.