“It wasn’t like that.” I explained about the shoes, which I recognized from the reading of Al en’s wil.
“I told you he seemed a little light in the loafers,”
Freddy said.
“Actual y, they were Oxfords.”
“You know what I mean. I guess this makes both brothers suspects.”
“Both?” I asked. “Why? We know that Michael hates gay people and his father was gay. It makes sense that he’d want Al en dead. But Paul turns out to be gay himself-wel, at least we know he has sex with men. What’s his motive?”
“Paul has a secret,” Freddy leaned in.
“Sometimes, people with secrets wil do anything to keep them. Maybe daddy found out about him and threatened to tel his wife. Or his brother.”
“Al en wouldn’t do that.”
“No, probably not. Try this: Paul is gay but he hates himself for it. Marries a woman, talks homophobic shit, the whole works. When al he real y wants is to take it up the butt…”
“You make it sound so lovely.”
“Yeah, yeah. So, when he thinks of his father, it makes him mad. He sees in his father al the parts of himself he wishes he could… wait for it… throw over the railing. But, he decides to throw his father over, instead.”
I thought about it for a moment. “Possible.”
“Paul sounds like one of those poor slobs who went to his brother’s seminar,” Freddy observed.
“Only for him, ‘the cure’ didn’t take.”
“It doesn’t take for most of them,” I told him. “It makes them shameful and self-hating, but you can only keep your true nature suppressed for so long.”
“How’s your head?” Freddy pushed back my bangs.
“Not too bad,” I said. “How does it look?”
“A little black and blue, but your hair mostly covers it. Here, let me give it a little kiss.”
Freddy leaned over, rested his hands on my thighs, and put his incredibly hot and soft lips against my forehead. Even though I’d done nothing but have sex al day, I stil got a little turned on remembering how good those lips had once made certain parts of my anatomy feel.
But those days with Freddy were past, and now I was with Tony.
Wasn’t I?
Freddy leaned back. “Better?”
I stood up. No dizziness, no nausea. “I think I’m fine.”
“OK, but why don’t I cab it home with you and make sure you get there safe and sound?”
“You’re the best,” I said. “Thanks.”
CHAPTER 18
I didn’t get home until after 2:00 A.M. I must have been exhausted because I slept though my mother’s departure for work. A phone cal woke me at 9:30.
Cal er ID told me it was Mrs. Cherry. “My darling,” she said when I picked up. “How is my most delicious boy?”
“Tired,” I told her.
“You sound it, dearest. Are you stil in bed?”
“Actual y, on the couch,” I said.
“Are you sleeping nude, pet? Or wearing tighty-whitey’s? Or are you letting it al hang loose in boxers and no shirt, or maybe… oh, I mustn’t, or your dear Auntie Cherry wil become too, too aroused!”
I smiled at her flirting. “You know I charge for a phone session,” I told her. “What’s up?”
“My angel, I was wondering if you might be available for a little morning thing. An out-of-towner from Boston. You were recommended by name.”
I was so tired, but I opened up my calendar and saw the day was open. “I don’t know. What’s he looking for?”
“You’re gonna love this… he just wants you to wear a bathing suit while he smel s your wet hair.
That’s it! Although he might be doing unspeakable things to himself during the process, it’s not a bad way to make a buck. If you’re up for it.”
Truth was, it was about al I was up to today. Other than the guy who wanted to play “salesman,” it was probably the easiest money I’d earn al week.
“Fine,” I said, “where and when?”
She told me the guy’s first name and where to meet him. I told her to let him know I could be there at 11:00.
Seconds after I hung up with Mrs. Cherry, the phone rang again. This time, the cal er ID made me happy.
“Good morning,” I said.
“Hey you,” Tony answered. “You got a minute?”
“More than that. I’m stil in bed. Wel, the couch.
You know what I mean.”
“You are? Lucky dog.”
“Yeah, and it’s nice and cozy in here. A little lonely, though.”
“Mmmm… what are you wearing?” Tony whispered
I’d only been awake ten minutes. Was I going to keep having the same conversation al day?
Of course, this one could take a different direction.
“My favorite underwear. Black boxer briefs with a nice pouch. They’re real y comfortable, especial y when I get, wel, you know. They’re not too tight, so there’s room to grow.”
“Uh-huh,” Tony said quietly. “Go on.”
“And I love the way they hug my ass. The material’s real y smooth, so it feels good when I rub my hand over it. Mmmm… that’s nice.”
“Shit.”
“I’m rubbing my bel y now, right by the waistband of my shorts. It feels real y nice. I wish this were your hand, rubbing me, touching me. Want me to put my hand lower?”
Tony said something I couldn’t hear.
“What’s that?”
“Yeah,” Tony whispered.
“OK, I’m slipping my hand under the waistband.
Just touching the top of my pubes. Rubbing my hand in little circles above my-hey, why are you whispering? Are you at work?”
“Yeah. Keep talking.”
“You want me to talk dirty to you while you’re at your desk?”
Tony growled. “Yeah.”
“At police headquarters?”
“Yeah.”
“Do me a favor,” I said.
“What?”
“Stand up.”
Tony laughed. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not?” I teased.
“Let’s just say I don’t carry a Bil y club in my pants, so that excuse wouldn’t work.”
This time it was my turn to laugh. “I miss your Bil y club,” I said.
“That’s what I was cal ing about. How about I drop by later?”
“How about now?” I asked. Then, I remembered the appointment I’d just made with Mrs. Cherry.
“Scratch that. How about you come around one? My mom wil stil be at work.”
Boy, did saying that make me feel like a teenager again. Then again, so did being with Tony.
“You got it. Now, go back to what you were tel ing me before.”
I checked the clock. I was going to have to hustle, pardon the expression, to make my meeting on time.
“I’l save it til I can show you.”
“You better.”
“I wil and-oh!” I said, remembering, “I have to tel you who I saw at Sexbar last night!”
“Who?”
“I’l save that too,” I said. “See you at one.”
I took a quick shower, shaved everything that needed shaving, and washed down my medication with a protein shake. My client was a businessman staying at a nice hotel, so I got dressed in chinos and a white button-down shirt. I was just ready to leave my apartment when I remembered my client’s special request.
“Shit!” I rummaged through my drawers until I found an old blue Speedo. I took off the chinos, replaced my underwear with the bathing suit, and put the pants back on. I was just about to put on my shoes when I heard my instant messenger chime.
I looked at the computer screen and saw an IM from Marc Wilgus. “U there?”
I ran over to the computer. “Just heading out.”
“Got the results of the data mining program I was tel ing u about,” Marc typed back.
I looked at the clock. “I wanna hear it, but I gotta run. I’l cal you later.”
“K” Marc signed off.
I arrived at 11:00 at The Astor, the same hotel where I’d been working the night of Al en’s death. I tried not to take that as a bad sign.
I checked my iPhone. I was going to room 813. I avoided the front desk. Nosy desk clerks sometimes enjoyed making me as uncomfortable as possible.
Occupational hazard.