Fire and Flint

by Andrew Grey

  “Yay, Daddy!” Jeremiah cried from behind them as Pierre moved with the music. Pierre slid his arms around Jordan’s back, drawing him just close enough to feel his breath glide over his cheek.

  “I didn’t know you could dance,” Jordan whispered.

  “I didn’t take years of ballet, but I was my mother’s living room dance partner for years. Dad didn’t dance, so Mom taught me.” Pierre twirled Jordan as the music hastened, and then he dipped him at the end, to Jeremiah’s clapping, happy delight.

  “Do that to me,” he cried, rushing over, and Pierre danced with Jeremiah’s feet on his shoes. It was so cute, and he kept shaking his butt to the point that he fell, stepping off Pierre’s feet to catch his balance. Finally Pierre lifted Jeremiah into his arms and danced him around the room. Jeremiah grinned and squealed until the music ended, and Jordan took another turn.

  Pierre wanted to kiss him so badly that he nearly stepped on Jordan’s feet more than once. Jordan’s heat wrapped around him, and his scent—earthy, rich, and intense—called to him. Pierre closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. He had to remind himself that Jeremiah was in the room, because he was seconds from kissing the life out of Jordan, and if he started, it was likely he’d scoop him into his arms and carry Jordan to the bedroom. Every instinct pushed him to make this man his. Pierre always thought he had great self-control, but Jordan slipped under that, cracking his discipline into tiny pieces.

  “Maybe sometime I could take you dancing,” Pierre whispered to Jordan. “Though I doubt they’ll feature music like this.”

  “No, they won’t, and yes, I think I’d like that. But I don’t know when sometime will be. My mom is taking a vacation for a few weeks, and she’s the one who usually watches Jeremiah. I can’t allow just anyone to watch him. With my luck, a social worker would show up and then I’d be up a creek.”

  “Is it really that bad?” Pierre asked.

  The music continued, but Jordan didn’t. He planted his feet and took a step back. “This is central Pennsylvania, where everything is as old-fashioned and conservative as it gets. You know that. There are churches everywhere, and things don’t change very fast. So think about it. I’m a gay man, alone, trying to adopt a little boy.” Jordan sighed. “When I first applied, I had one of the people at Social Services ask me why I wanted to adopt a child. Was it to recruit little children? I didn’t know how to answer, and then she put dumb on top of stupid and asked me if I had a sexual history with children.”

  “She can’t do that,” Pierre gasped. “No way in—” He stopped himself before swearing in front of Jeremiah.

  “No, she can’t, and I ended up turning her in. But that’s how people think here… or how some people think. That social worker isn’t with the department any longer, but how many others are there, lurking, acting on that prejudice? I have no idea. But I know they’re there. So I can’t give any of them a reason to look at me twice.” He tugged Jeremiah to him. “It’s not just for his sake.” Jordan’s eyes filled with tears. “He’s my son.”

  “Daddy, you’re squeezing me.”

  “Sorry.” Jordan let him go, and Jeremiah hurried off toward his toys in the corner. Jordan turned to him. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

  “What for?”

  He glanced at Jeremiah and then back to Pierre, the heat from earlier fading away. “I know you’ve been really nice and you took us out today and that was fun, but do you know what you’re getting into? The last guy I dated, which was earlier this year, he was so intense, almost stalkerish. When I broke it off with him, he stuck around for weeks, trying to get back together.”

  Pierre narrowed his gaze, completely shocked. “Do you think I’d do that?”

  “No, I don’t. But part of what broke Ryan and me up was the fact that I had decided to adopt Jeremiah, and Ryan couldn’t stand the thought that he would be second in my life. It grated at him for weeks, so I had to step away. I tried to explain things to him, but he couldn’t understand that.”

  Pierre gathered Jordan into his arms. “I get it. I do. Why do you think I asked you and Jeremiah out today? I wanted to get to know both of you.” His heart skipped a beat at the way Jordan had been treated, by those who were supposed to care for him and by people who should have been helping him do this amazing thing.

  “But what about in a few weeks or months?” Jordan groaned and went to sit on the sofa. “Geez, I’m doing it again. You just asked me out on a first date and I’m already jumping ahead to weeks and months from now.” He shook his head. “I’m going to keep my mouth shut, so just forget I said anything. You don’t owe me any explanations or answers.” He put up his hands. “Please.”

  Pierre smiled. He thought Jordan was adorable, and he was even cuter when flustered. “How about we take things one step at a time?” It touched his heart that Jordan was already thinking ahead. Pierre liked Jordan, and it was good to know that the feelings were returned. But he had to agree with him—it was too early to be talking about forever. Though next week was a possibility. He took a seat next to Jordan. “Why don’t we agree to dinner Wednesday after work? Is Jeremiah in day care?”

  “Yeah. In the fall he has after-school programs until I get out of work, but the summers are hard, so I have to enroll him in day care, which stinks for him. My mom takes him a few days a week when she can.”

  “So we could have dinner once you pick him up?” Pierre asked.

  Jordan shook his head slowly. “Are you sure about this? You don’t have to. We had a good time and all, but you have to know this isn’t going to be easy.”

  “If you don’t want to have dinner, just say so,” Pierre said, disappointment ringing in his voice.

  “It isn’t that I don’t want to.” Jordan turned to where Jeremiah was building a huge Lego tower. “I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

  Pierre chuckled. “Please. I don’t do things I don’t want to, at least not in my personal life.” He slipped off the sofa. “Hey, buddy, can I help?”

  “I’m building a tower this big.” Jeremiah put his hands over his head, and the tower he’d been holding on to crashed to the ground. “Awww.” He stared at the pieces and sat back down.

  “Why don’t we build the base bigger so the tower will stand up? I bet your daddy would be good at that.” Pierre turned, smiling at Jordan, and he slid over, joining them on the tan carpet.

  “Let’s build a tower together,” Jordan said, grinning at him over Jeremiah’s head. “Honey, do you want to go to dinner with Pierre on Wednesday?”

  “Can we have french fries?” Jeremiah asked.

  “You can have whatever you want. There’s a new restaurant and brewpub in Camp Hill, and I thought we could try it. I’m sure they have french fries and chicken nuggets.” He took a chance, and that seemed to be a good answer.

  Jeremiah clucked and then giggled.

  “He loves chicken,” Jordan explained.

  “Then we’ll make sure they have chicken for you.” Pierre was quickly coming to understand a few things about Jordan. He was a wonderful man with a huge heart. The old saying was that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, but Pierre thought that the way to Jordan’s was through his son.

  They managed to build a tower of every color, using almost all the blocks in Jeremiah’s Lego set. It was a strange tower, with windows and doors to nowhere and pieces of roof stuck hither and yon, but it stayed up, and Jeremiah jumped for joy when he backed away. Of course, the vibration sent the tower crashing to the floor, blocks skittering everywhere. Jeremiah gasped and turned to Jordan, hand over his mouth. At first Pierre thought he was upset, but he realized he was scared.

  “It’s okay. You can build it again later.”

  Jeremiah hurried over to hug Jordan. “You aren’t mad?”

  Jordan laughed, holding Jeremiah tightly, swinging him back and forth. “No. I’m not mad. It was your tower, and we can build it again.” He released him, setting him on his feet. “I’m going to go make pizza for d
inner. Why don’t you and Pierre rebuild the tower?”

  “You don’t need any help?” Pierre asked. “I’m a good cheese spreader, and I won’t get any on Jeremiah’s part.” They shared a conspiratorial smile. “And I bet Jeremiah is great with pepperoni. Aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, Daddy. I’m good with pep-a-roni.” Jeremiah grinned.

  “Okay. You can help. But let me get the dough made, and then you can each make your pizza.” Jordan ruffled Jeremiah’s hair and then leaned down close to Pierre’s ear. “That was a good idea. Thank you.”

  Pierre turned and took a chance, lightly capturing Jordan’s lips. He’d wanted to do that all day. He didn’t dare press it, but he didn’t want to wait any longer. Jordan was sweet, his soft lips with a spice of musk and heat that left Pierre’s head spinning.

  “You kissed Daddy,” Jeremiah said in a singsong manner.

  “Is that okay?” Pierre asked.

  Jeremiah put a finger to his lips, as if thinking about it. “Okay. As long as you aren’t a girl, ’cause girls are yucky. Missy at day care tried to kiss me once, but I pushed her away because she’s mean all the time.” His eyes blazed with the conviction of the righteous. “Does that mean you like Daddy?”

  “Yes.” Pierre smiled. “I like your daddy. I think he’s special, just like I think you’re special.” He caught Jordan’s gaze for a second. “Now, let’s let him make the crust while we rebuild your tower.” Pierre began gathering the blocks, and Jeremiah ran around the room, collecting the far-flung ones before flopping down next to him. Pierre helped but let Jeremiah do most of the work.

  “Do you really have a gun at work?” Jeremiah asked.

  “Yes. And after supper, I’m going to take you and your daddy to the station so you can ride in the police car like I promised.” They had been having such a good time that he hadn’t thought about it, but Pierre was determined to keep his word. “I asked the sheriff if it was okay, and he said yes.”

  Jeremiah looked up from where he was working. “Does he have a star badge like they do on TV?”

  Pierre had to smile. “No, he has one that looks a lot like mine. It has a shield with a star on it. You saw mine when you were in the hospital, remember?” He loved that Jeremiah seemed so full of questions.

  “Yes.” He returned to building the tower. “Did you ever shoot anyone?”

  “No.”

  “But you would if you had to, right?” Jeremiah stopped. “Like if someone was mean to my daddy, would you shoot them?”

  “I don’t think so, but I would try to make sure no one was mean to him, or to you.” Pierre wondered where this was coming from, and judging by the completely perplexed expression on Jordan’s face as he worked on the counter nearby, he did as well. “We have a lot of rules about when we can use our guns. See, our job is to try to keep people safe, not to hurt them. Why? Has someone been mean to your daddy?”

  “No.” Jeremiah stood as he continued building, adding block after block. Pierre helped steady the tower for him, adding a few blocks to improve stability.

  “Has someone been mean to you?” Pierre asked.

  “No.” Jeremiah continued building, and Pierre wondered what had prompted the question. “I was wondering, ’cause on TV the cops use their guns all the time.”

  “Real life isn’t like TV a lot of the time. We try not to use our guns ever. We have them to keep people safe, but we don’t want to use them. I’ve never shot anyone, and most of the people I work with haven’t either.” He touched Jeremiah’s arm. “Are you worried about something?”

  “No.” Jeremiah turned away, and Pierre knew he was lying, but wasn’t sure if he should press him or not. He turned to Jordan for guidance, but he seemed just as confused.

  “Did you see someone use a gun?” Pierre asked. Jeremiah didn’t reply but nodded slowly. “What happened?”

  Jeremiah shrugged. It looked like he knew something but wasn’t sure about it.

  “It’s all right,” Jordan said as he hurried over to pull Jeremiah into a hug. He picked him up and rocked him. “You don’t have to try to remember if you don’t want to.”

  “It was Mommy,” Jeremiah said. “I know it was Mommy.” He buried his head in Jordan’s neck, and Jordan cradled him gently.

  “We don’t know what happened. Sometimes he gets very strong reactions to things and doesn’t understand why most of the time. They’ve gotten better, but it happens occasionally.” Jordan comforted him, and when Jeremiah squirmed, he set him down.

  Jeremiah went to turn on the television and found the show he wanted.

  “He’s very resilient,” Jordan whispered. “Sometimes I get hints of the hurt and pain he suffered, and it takes my breath away. I know what it’s like to be sick and constantly afraid that the cancer and resulting pain is going to come back. But there’s something else there with Jeremiah. As far as I know, he was two and a half the last time he saw his mother.” Jordan’s upper lip quivered. “I only want to give him the life he deserves.”

  Jeremiah settled on the floor in front of Mickey Mouse, and Pierre wondered how he could bounce back so fast.

  “I don’t think he really remembers what happened. I think that sometimes he gets images and flashes of memory, feelings mostly. My goal is to provide good and happy ones so the bad things fade away.” Jordan returned to the kitchen, and Pierre followed him. He loved the open concept of the condo. He could help Jordan with dinner while they kept an eye on Jeremiah. “Will you make a salad? We don’t need much. Jeremiah will only eat a little of it.”

  “Of course.” The scene was very domestic. Pierre had never thought of himself as an inside, family, make-a-home kind of guy, but this felt right and peaceful. He cut up the lettuce, tomatoes, and cucumber, half filling a large bowl. Jordan rolled out two pizza crusts and placed them in the oven to precook.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Jordan said. “Maybe I should look for another job or see if one of the other judges needs a clerk. If I got out of that office, then I’d be safe.”

  Pierre couldn’t disagree with him, not really. “But isn’t Judge Crawford going to become suspicious? And if you go to work for another judge, will he be angry?” He mostly knew him by reputation, but Judge Crawford didn’t strike Pierre as the “easy come, easy go” kind of man, even with the short time he’d worked with him.

  Jordan pulled containers of browned sausage, pepperoni, and other toppings out of the refrigerator and set them on the counter. “I know. But I’d be safer, and so would Jeremiah, if I wasn’t in that office.”

  “True. You might be. But… you know what could happen if we don’t stop him? He’s letting people who should be convicted go free, or worse, convicting innocent people because he’s hiding evidence for money.” Pierre’s head hurt. “Can you imagine? Every case he’s ever tried will need to be reviewed, and the longer it goes on, the worse it will get.”

  “I know. But if he finds out I know, he’ll rip my life apart. Judge Crawford’s entire identity is wrapped up in being a judge. He isn’t going to go down easily at all.” Jordan set down the knife he was using to slice olives. “Even if we have evidence, he will do his best to attack anyone who goes after him.”

  “I know.” Dammit. Pierre hated putting Jordan in harm’s way for anything, but he was the only one who could possibly find any of the evidence that they needed without rousing suspicion. “I can’t tell you what to do. I have to rely on your judgment.” He turned to where Jeremiah sat, engrossed in the television. “You have to do what your conscience dictates and nothing more.”

  Jordan swore under his breath. “I knew you were going to say that.”

  Pierre finished the salad and helped Jordan with the toppings until the crusts came out of the oven.

  THEY HAD an amazing dinner and then watched television for an hour until it was time for Jeremiah to go to bed. It was too late for the police car ride, and thankfully Jeremiah didn’t mention it. Pierre hated not keeping his promise and made a note to be
sure it happened the next time.

  “I’m going to run a bath for you and lay out your pajamas.” Jordan left the room and returned a few minutes later, the sound of water running a soft hum in the background.

  Pierre knew it was time for him to go, so he said good night to Jeremiah.

  “Go to the bathroom and get undressed. I’ll be right in to help you in the tub. Don’t get in the water until I get there. Okay?”

  “Yes.” Jeremiah hugged Pierre once more and then half pranced to the bathroom. He clearly liked having a bath.

  “I need to go and let you take care of him.” Pierre stood when Jordan did and pulled him into a hug. “I had an amazing day.” He leaned closer, dying for a kiss, and took one, falling into it almost instantly.

  Jordan’s warmth surrounded him, his musk pulling him in as their lips touched. He breathed in Jordan’s intoxicating scent, his body driving him to take more. He wanted everything Jordan had to give. His entire body thrummed with energy, and all of it thrust him forward, urging him on. Pierre pulled back, breathing deeply, staring into Jordan’s dark, beautiful eyes. He could lose himself in that gaze and never be found if he allowed it. His head swam as every instinct drew him toward Jordan’s bedroom and the delights to be had there.

  But that couldn’t be, not tonight. Pierre tugged at Jordan’s lower lip as he backed away, the sweet bit slipping from between his lips. Jordan’s breath was shallow and fast, mirroring Pierre’s. “I’ll say good night before I’m unable to leave at all.” He turned, took Jordan’s hand, and squeezed it gently. He released it and walked, more like floated, to the door and stepped outside.

  The evening air with its hint of briskness cleared his head. He needed that desperately. By the time he reached his car, he could think clearly. He drove home, still walking on cloud nine once he was safely inside. That feeling lasted all through the next day and up until he had to return to the real world on Monday morning. Hell, remnants of that headiness lasted for days, almost up until the morning he was to take Jordan to dinner.