Eddie: Grime Doesn't Pay (The Brothers Grime Book 2)

by Z. A. Maxfield

  Eddie studied Dave.

  Dave seemed lost sometimes. No one spoke of his affairs. No one dared. Dave stayed in the closet, and no one knocked on the door. Eddie didn’t understand him. Of all the people Eddie knew, all the people Grime interacted with on business—and that included the FPD, the fire department, and the local government—very few of them seemed to care about anyone’s orientation anymore. There were gay cops in the very department Dave called home, and yet…Dave still couldn’t relax and simply be himself.

  The waitress came over, and Eddie ordered fresh fish and steamed potatoes. The rest of the table gave their orders. After that the conversation sputtered to a halt, but they had music and the kind of silence that grows comfortable over time between good friends.

  It was a great night to be Eddie Vasquez. He had jazz. A martini. A terrific piece of fish. The company of friends and the barest hint of a possible new romance hanging in the air like an elusive scent, a whiff of something soft and seductive.

  While Eddie ate, he remembered threading his fingers through Andrew’s soft, curly hair. Remembered the feel of his lips, his gust of a sigh when they’d broken apart.

  “Hello, Earth to Eddie.” Gabe snapped his fingers in front of Eddie’s face.

  Eddie realized they must have been talking to him for a while because they were all staring. “Yeah?”

  “I said, do you want to get something for Skippy? A Grime logo mug or something?”

  “He needs cash for the baby,” Eddie reminded them. “How about a mug with a couple hundred in it?”

  Gabe nodded. “All in favor?”

  The three partners raised their hands.

  “Aren’t you going to say all opposed?” Dave asked.

  “You don’t get a vote,” Gabe told him.

  “How come?” If Dave was kidding, he was doing a good job keeping his face straight.

  “What do you mean?” Gabe frowned at him. “You’re not one of the Brothers Grime.”

  “I should be a partner. I’m the one you always call when you need a friendly face on the force,” said Dave.

  “And we wouldn’t have it any other way.” Gabe lifted his beer again. “All in favor of covering Dave’s tab tonight?”

  Jack raised his drink to that.

  “I’m in,” said Eddie. “Thanks again for helping with Mrs. H.”

  Dave kept his gaze focused on his beer. “No problem.”

  There it is again.

  Eddie watched Dave closely. It was a little bit like seeing a glacier move. You might hear a crack and a series of pops. Feel a rumble. The invisible force from within might send a shower of glistening snow downhill like the slip of cake icing on a hot day. It might send shock waves to the land around it or out into the water like a cry for help, but eventually, great sharp shards of ice would crack off and hurl into the sea.

  After dinner, on the way out to the car, Eddie stopped Dave. “Hey. Are you okay?”

  Dave turned with a quizzical look on his face. “Sure. Why?”

  “Something feels off lately. Are you’re sure nothing’s bothering you?”

  “I’m sure.” Dave walked away.

  As Eddie watched Dave head for his car alone, he was less sure than Dave. He couldn’t pry. He didn’t want to make things worse by muscling into Dave’s privacy.

  Still. He’d learned to trust his instincts with people. He was the de facto human resources guy at Grime for a reason. He planned to keep an eye on Dave, see if there was something he could do.

  Eddie got into his roadster and took a brief, very pleasant moment to remember Andrew sitting in the passenger seat.

  To remember their kiss.

  Eddie pulled away from his spot at the curb happier than he’d been in a long time.

  Chapter 6

  At lunch, Andrew checked his messages. As predicted, there was a call from Gary, a barely civil message to let Andrew know he’d look into the statutes with regard to Andrew’s father’s property. He’d send a formal e-mail later so they could plan a consultation for the following week. It would help if he had any letters Andrew’s father had received from his neighbors or the city.

  Andrew didn’t blame Gary for the terse reply. He’d let Gary down with an “It’s not you, it’s me” back in October. Even then he’d been eyeing Eddie Vasquez.

  Eddie was Andrew’s type, not Gary. As soon as he realized he’d been comparing the two and wishing Gary was more like Eddie—more mysterious, more controlled, more slick and silent, and even a little more dangerous—he’d decided things had to end between them.

  What seemed funny in retrospect was that the real Eddie Vasquez, despite being big and built and silent, was a man who held his niece’s hand like she was made of spun glass when he walked her to school.

  A man who hung on her every little-girl word.

  A man who made sure his passengers buckled up and who helped old ladies avoid embarrassing situations and felt like an Orc inside when Andrew and his friends let loose their barrage of flirtatious nonsense.

  Andrew liked Eddie even better now that he’d gotten to know him.

  The second message was from Eddie, and it made Andrew smile.

  “Hey, Andrew, I thought I’d give you a call. I’m thinking Saturday night, maybe? What time do you want me to pick you up? If Saturday’s okay, that is. I had a good time last night. I’m glad we finally went out. I hate voice mail. I never say the right thing. Call me.”

  Andrew glanced around. Some of his colleagues were eating lunch, some reading. He texted back, I’m free after four on Saturday, so whenever it’s convenient.

  After a couple of minutes Eddie sent, Six okay? Where?

  Andrew entered his address and then I could meet you at your place?

  Eddie returned with That sounds good. That will make it easier to drug you and keep you in My Secret Dungeon 4-ever. But wait—when you disappear, how will I explain why your car’s parked at my place?

  Andrew stared at that so long Eddie texted again.

  It’s too soon for psycho humor, isn’t it?

  Andrew frowned. Maybe a little.

  Sorry. I’ll save that for later then.

  Andrew typed, So. I’ll see you at six at MY place?

  I’ll be there.

  Andrew didn’t add he wouldn’t mind if Eddie came over on Friday after school. Andrew wouldn’t mind if Eddie stayed at his place, in his bed, all weekend.

  It was too early for that too, probably, but oh…Eddie Vasquez.

  Soon.

  On Friday at lunchtime, just after he found a spot in the hospital parking lot, Eddie got another text from Andrew. He liked texting with people, except he had to use the dictation function of his phone. It had taken some getting used to because it forced him to add punctuation on the fly, verbally, so it wouldn’t look like he couldn’t type.

  It wasn’t a deal breaker, but it wasn’t intuitive. He’d had to learn to dictate texts, which made leaving regular voice mail messages difficult because sometimes he forgot and added punctuation in those too. It was harder to switch back and forth than it seemed it should be.

  “I’ll be there,” he dictated, then left his car and made his way through the sliding hospital doors. He’d brought a bouquet of colorful flowers with him. He wondered if Mrs. Henderson would recognize him this time.

  “Mr. Vasquez.” She smiled up at him. She had the weary look of a hospital patient, someone who’d been woken at intervals all night.

  “Eddie.”

  “You brought me here?”

  “Yes.” He wished he’d had another choice. “I’m sorry.”

  Then as if a light came on, she became Mrs. Henderson again. “Don’t be sorry, Eddie. You did what you felt was right. I’ve always admired people who do that.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What’s going to happen now?” she asked.

  How much does she know? “What do you remember about what happened?”

  “My memory is fuzzy. Sometimes I get
confused.” She blew out a deep breath. “Phil’s gone?”

  “Yes,” Eddie whispered. He stood helplessly by her bedside while she cried. He wished he had more to offer her than a tissue from the box on the bedside table. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  She nodded, blinking as if she’d only just woken up again. “Phil’s friend Bill came by yesterday. He says he’ll help me get out of here, but he says I can’t go home.”

  “How do you feel?” Eddie picked up the visitor chair and brought it closer so he could sit by her side. “Is there anything you need me to bring for you? Clothes or…a nice robe maybe?”

  She stared at him—almost beyond him—before speaking again. “I can’t get over how much time has passed. Eddie Vasquez. As I live and breathe.”

  He smiled at that.

  “That’s my Eddie’s smile.” She folded her hands. “What do you do these days?”

  As if catching up was the most natural thing in the world, he told her about his business.

  “Really? Maybe I should hire you. I hate cleaning.”

  “It’s not that kind of cleaning, I’m afraid.”

  “What kind is it?”

  “It’s industrial stuff. Not day-to-day.” He didn’t want her to picture her house right then or dredge up memories of her husband.

  “Ah.” She nodded. “I see.” Her eyelids fell. They closed halfway and then rose again.

  “Are you tired, Mrs. Henderson?”

  “I am.”

  Eddie started up from his chair. “You can fall asleep if you like. I’ll come back soon, and we can talk more.”

  “Could you sit here with me for a bit? I hate the hospital. When I sleep, people always sneak into the room and startle me.”

  “They probably will, to check on you. But if you want, I can stay and make sure no one disturbs you for a while. Until the nurses come in and manhandle you again.”

  She shook her head. “You’d be bored to tears.”

  “Actually.” Eddie took out his phone. “I just started a new audiobook, and I can listen to it now while you doze if you want.”

  “What are you reading?”

  “The Picture of Dorian Gray.”

  “Good book,” she sighed. “I’m not sure I read it though. I may have just seen the movie.”

  “Rest now.” Eddie watched her eyelids close before he powered his phone back on in airplane mode. He pulled earphones from his jacket pocket and put them on. Once he was connected, the text-to-speech monotone drew him back into the story.

  It was so second nature to him to shut his own eyes and focus on the voice—to imagine the setting and the characters—he jumped when someone laid a hand on his shoulder.

  A stranger stood over him.

  Some watchdog Eddie was. He’d allowed the man to sneak right in. A glance told him Mrs. Henderson still slept peacefully, her mouth hanging slightly open.

  The man spoke. “Hello, I’m—”

  Eddie put his finger to his lips and indicated they should talk outside Mrs. H’s room. Once the door closed, the man held out his hand.

  “I’m Bill Laurence, Dot’s lawyer.”

  “I’m Eddie Vasquez.” Eddie’d known his teacher’s name was Dorothy, but he’d never once imagined her as a “Dot.” Bill Laurence was about her age with a ruddy face and white hair. He had complacent features, as if life rarely surprised him or, when it did, the surprise was mostly pleasant.

  Bill pumped Eddie’s hand once in a manly show of equanimity. “You’re a friend?”

  “I was one of her students, actually. I happened to be there when they found her trying to get into her old classroom at the school.”

  “I can’t get over it. Dot was alone in the house with Phil all that time after…” He avoided Eddie’s eyes. “Phil didn’t keep our usual golf date. I should have known something was wrong.”

  “These things happen sometimes.” Eddie knew that for a fact. Lots of people died alone, and sometimes it took a lot longer than two weeks for anyone to miss them.

  “I called and no one answered, but with Dot…things could be a little unpredictable. I just assumed he had to take her to the doctor or something. I could kick myself for not following up. What she must have endured…”

  “I don’t know if she realized what had happened. If she did, she didn’t seem to—” Eddie frowned. “She wasn’t processing when I saw her.”

  “Thank God you found her.”

  “A teacher from Taft found her. I just helped out a little. She’s here now, anyway. Have you gotten in touch with her family?”

  Bill shook his head. “She has virtually no one. Distant cousins in the Midwest somewhere.”

  “What’s going to happen to her?”

  “She can’t live alone. That’s a given. I’ve contacted her relatives, but I’m also looking into group homes.”

  “Whatever I can do to help, please let me know.” Eddie took out his card. “As far as the house goes. I run a bio-recovery cleaning service—”

  “Not you too.” Laurence’s body language changed abruptly from friendly to suspicious.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve been getting calls all morning from ambulance chasers.”

  “I guess ambulance chasing’s not just for lawyers anymore.” Eddie shrugged. “It’s no secret my business is trauma-scene cleanup, but that’s not why I’m here.”

  “Why are you here, if I may ask?”

  “She—” Eddie glanced back at the door of the room where Mrs. Henderson lay sleeping. He lowered his voice. “It’s not easy for me to talk about this. I have a learning disability. Before Mrs. Henderson, everyone—even my parents—thought I was slow, and the other kids made my life pretty miserable. To put it mildly, she saved me. She never let me write myself off, and I owe her everything. So if there’s anything I can do for her, I will.”

  “Dot was a great teacher. She touched a lot of lives. Phil saw to it she’ll be taken care of, but she’s alone, and I—I suppose I should talk to her again. Try to make her understand.”

  Eddie stopped him from going inside the room. “She’s asleep right now, and I promised her I’d make sure she wasn’t disturbed. She’s had a hard time sleeping here.”

  “I see.” Bill nodded. “That’s fine. I’ll come back later.”

  Eddie traded his card for one of the lawyer’s. “Here’s where I can be reached. My cell phone number’s on the back.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Vasquez. I’ll be in touch.”

  Eddie reentered the hospital room and sat beside Mrs. Henderson without feeling better about her situation. She was old and alone. She’d lost her husband. If money was tight, it might be impossible for her to go home. Even with the best of intentions he couldn’t make things a whole lot easier for her.

  He thought about the slogan painted on the vans and trucks of the Brothers Grime fleet, “Because life is not a fairy tale.”

  Bitterness filled Eddie’s heart. That was the worst part of having a somewhat optimistic nature—no matter how many times life reminded him there were no happy endings, it always came as a surprise.

  Chapter 7

  Eddie knew every street between his house in Fullerton and Andrew’s apartment in Yorba Linda. He’d studied the map, and if that wasn’t enough, he’d programmed Andrew’s address into the GPS on his phone. He’d written Andrew’s apartment number on a Post-it to match to the door number when he got there.

  Then he’d had a last-minute work-related phone call, so he’d arrived in front of Andrew’s place late, and Eddie hated to be late. He needed time finding the right address numbers.

  When Andrew answered the door he was still pulling his boot on. “Hi! Let me just…get this…”

  Eddie apologized for being late.

  “No, it’s fine.” Andrew closed and locked the door behind him before leaning over to ties his laces. “It’s perfect. I needed some supplies for school, and there was a huge line at the big box store, so I didn’t get back unt
il just a few minutes ago. I had to grab a shower and—”

  “If you need more time to get ready, I can wait.”

  “No. I’m ready. I’ve been ready. I just— I changed my mind about shoes. I was going to wear sneakers, and then I thought, no, I should wear boots. These jeans are longer, and—”

  When Andrew stood, Eddie took a chance and kissed the awkward away.

  Andrew lifted his hand and curled his fingers through Eddie’s short hair. Eddie leaned into his touch like a lost dog. He forgot where he was—he forgot who he was—while Andrew’s neighbors passed by and the streetlights went on overhead.

  All he knew was the sweetness of Andrew’s lips. The taste of toothpaste. Gentle hands and physical need. Andrew tried to fit himself into Eddie’s body, and Eddie responded in kind.

  Reluctant to give the neighbors too much of a show, Eddie broke the kiss. It was a near thing though. When he saw Andrew’s dazed expression and unfocused eyes, he nearly dived back in for a second round.

  “Wow.” Andrew breathed out a sigh of pure carnal pleasure.

  Eddie cleared his throat. “Now I don’t have to be nervous about kissing you again. I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

  “I’ve been thinking about it too,” Andrew whispered. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to think about anything else.”

  “Me neither.” Eddie thumbed Andrew’s full, freshly kissed lower lip. “But it will be anticipation, not terror.”

  As they took the path toward Eddie’s car, he let his hand drift over Andrew’s arm. Andrew smiled up at him. “Because I’m so terrifying.”

  “I was terrified anyway.” Eddie opened his passenger door and watched as Andrew buckled himself in. “Maybe I just had high hopes?”

  “Or high expectations. How’d I do?” Andrew asked as Eddie climbed in on the driver’s side. Eddie was a big man, but he’d learned to fold himself into his car with ease.

  “You were perfect.” Eddie turned his gaze to Andrew while he played with the shift knob. “You are perfect.”

  Andrew snorted. “Hardly.”