Fish on a Bicycle

by Amy Lane

  “Ellery,” Jackson said, pulling his attention that direction, “we’ve got beer, water, and soda—preferences?”

  “Water,” he said primly, while Jackson dug out a root beer and two waters, one of which he handed to David as he walked up, then handed the other to Ellery.

  “So,” David said, sitting heavily at the table. “Scott.”

  “Yeah.” Jackson looked at Ellery and then shrugged. “So, I have these nightmares,” he said out of the blue, and Ellery stared at him, surprised by the change of subject. “Like, all sorts of shit. If you’re interested in what, read the papers. I’m sure there’s microfiche and a whole file on the internet. Anyway, for years—like eight years of my life—I’d find someone, anyone, male, female, whatever, to sleep with, because I knew if there was a body in my bed, I wouldn’t scream. I’d still have shitty dreams, but nine times out of ten, I wouldn’t wake my neighbor up, sounding like I was being gutted in my sleep.”

  David blinked slowly, but he didn’t look surprised.

  “How’d you make them stop?” he asked softly.

  “I haven’t yet,” Jackson said, glancing at Ellery. “But now I only have one guy, and he knows what my demons are. And when I scream, he tackles me on the bed and keeps me from falling. It’s not a perfect system—it might not ever be. But it’s… better. It’s better than all the different bodies, staying friends with a thousand different lovers, never getting close. We all have our damage, you know? And in our twenties, when we got more come than sense, we’re not always great at trying to fix it.”

  David Worrall nodded, getting the hint. He took a swig of water and started to speak.

  “I lost my first lover in a car wreck when we were eighteen and nobody knew about us. So I tried to pretend it never happened and I wasn’t really gay, but a kinky girlfriend suggested porn, and that seemed like a great compromise. I took his name as my porn name, so it’s always a part of me.”

  Ah, Ellery thought. Dexter.

  “And for years, I kept having girlfriends and fucking guys on camera and wanting something more. And then this hot guy, a guy I’d fucked a couple of times, feeds me a line about how relationships are for suckers, and I buy it. I buy into it for a year, while he goes to school and tells me I can just keep fucking for a living. I buy into it while I break up with my girlfriend—which was a good thing—and he keeps me on a string. I buy into it until I’m staying home at night hoping he texts, and I realize that I’m in a relationship, and it’s breaking my heart, because he’s fucking his daddy’s pick for mail-order bride and giving me a booty call now and then. So I break up with him—” David looked fondly in the direction of the house. “—with a little help from a friend. And it turned out the friend was the guy I’d been looking for all along. But in the meantime, this first guy, Scott, is suddenly acting like I’ve wrecked him. And he starts doing these really… really shitty things. John’s coke habit was like once a month until Scott started giving him some every night, to hook him for real. He sleeps with the receptionist and knocks her up and then hands her money for an abortion. When she doesn’t get it, he breaks all the windows in her house. He tells John he’s going to take the business—the business I helped build on my knees, and I’m not ashamed to say it—if I don’t fuck him on camera one last goddamned time. And the whole time I’m wondering where that guy I fell for was. That guy I loved, he could be kind, for no reason. He’d go to the college tutoring center to help kids who had trouble. He….”

  David aimed a compassionate glance at Jackson, who had just spilled something really personal in order to make him feel like he wasn’t alone… and finished the sentence.

  “He had bad dreams. When he called me up after seeing his girlfriend, he’d come over in tears because he knew what we were doing was no good. He’d surprise me with flowers one minute and tell me that flowers were a crock the next. He’d tell me his father was a raging hypocrite one day and leave mid blowjob when the guy texted him to come home.” He shook his head. “He’d wake up from a dead sleep screaming ‘Daddy, stop.’”

  Ellery made an oolf sound, but Jackson didn’t look the least bit surprised. He waited a moment while David caught his breath.

  “Did he ever say anything else about that?”

  David shook his head. “No. No. But….” He grimaced. “Look, I know how this is going to sound. He was blackmailing John, threatening to take away the company. It’s how Kane—Carlos—and I still make our living, just not in front of the camera. We had nearly two hundred employees working for us, and some of us were like Kane. He started doing porn to pay Frances’s medical bills because his sister didn’t have insurance. I don’t care what you think about porn—”

  “It’s a service,” Jackson said bluntly. “Just like any other product. You can cook in a shitty restaurant with giant cockroaches or you can cook cordon bleu. You can run a crappy porn shop full of drugs and disease and exploited employees, or you can take care of your people and put out a quality product.”

  David nodded soberly. “Everybody—everybody—has health and dental. The good plan. We’re offering employee stock options. We’ve got a life-after program for the guys who aren’t smart about going to school and finding a different living. It’s a good place. I’m proud of it. And Scott was going to take it away and break it up if I didn’t film another scene with him.” He closed his eyes and swallowed. “But I was… I was out. I couldn’t do it anymore. Everyone hits their out button, you know? And Kane was still in. He took my spot. And Kane—man, he didn’t even fuck him. He just… dominated him. I can’t explain it, except that there was a thing in Scott that needed a daddy that fucking bad.”

  Ellery let out a shaky breath. “His father…?”

  “I’m almost sure of it,” David said. “I’ve seen submissive guys before—healthy submissives, and they’re strong and kind and all the good things in and out of the bedroom. But Scott wasn’t healthy. He was cruel when he topped, in porn anyway. And he was… frightening when he bottomed. Creepy.”

  “Reg said he’d fuck your earhole if you didn’t cover it up,” Jackson said. Ellery was pleased to see that bring out a slight smile on David Worrall’s beautiful face.

  “Reg filmed a few scenes with him too.” Suddenly he was right there in the present. “And I can’t thank you guys enough for what you did for them two days ago. Bobby’s gotten a raw deal from the cops before. Reg hasn’t stopped singing your praises.” He looked thoughtful. “And he told us about your nightmare that night too.”

  Jackson laughed, but it didn’t sound natural. “Yeah, well, like I said, the system’s not perfect. Is there anything else you can tell us about Scott? We know he switched from coke to pills—any take on that?”

  David wrinkled his nose. “He said once that coke was a rich-boy’s drug. If he was hurting, he’d hit up Daddy for oxy.”

  They were all quiet for a moment, and Ellery’s stomach roiled. Apparently, Scott, aka Martin Sampson, had been hurting all his life.

  “Is that all?” David cast a quick glance to the sliding glass door, where Henry and Carlos were trying to bring out plates full of food, but Frances was getting in the way. They saw her hands on the sliding glass door, and even through the glass could hear, “I want to do it!”

  “No,” Jackson said, surprising Ellery. “Did he have any other friends? Anyone outside of Johnnies?”

  David snorted. “He had a very specific dividing line, you know? There were his friends to piss Daddy off—that was us—and his friends to appease Daddy. That was…. Okay. Let me think. Barnes Carver and Teddy Warburton. You know, his dad’s business partners’ kids.”

  Jackson nodded. More names. He tapped them into his phone while Frances finally conceded to let Carlos open the door for her. He gave the men walking toward them a covert glance. “I think that’s about all, but David? About your brother.”

  “What about him?”

  “Tell Carlos not to give up on him. He’s got his good points.”

>   David Worrall smiled. And while he might not have been as beautiful as Jackson Rivers, Ellery thought he came in a close second.

  THEY ENJOYED dinner, which was a true banquet of sandwiches. Everything from avocado and tomatoes on whole wheat to peanut butter and jelly on enriched white, with ham and roast beef somewhere in the middle. Carlos and David told amusing kid stories involving everything from the turtles with the flowers to the time the snake escaped the house in Frances’s backpack, to the time all their friends from Johnnies gathered together to make the school Christmas show a big success.

  Jackson—always good with kids—used his butter knife to make shapes for Frances with the sandwiches. The turtle was a big hit, as was the heart and the smiley face. Ellery was surprised to see him eat a little, and was grateful.

  All in all, there was peace in that backyard, hard-earned strength, and an amazing amount of joy. After a dessert of fruit salad—with Cool Whip and yogurt topping—David pulled Ellery aside quietly, while Henry and Carlos cleaned up.

  “We really do appreciate all you’re doing for Henry. Do you think you can get him off?”

  “They haven’t arrested him yet, but that doesn’t mean they won’t. What we’re trying to do is find out who really did it. They have a mostly circumstantial case right now, but if Sampson’s father keeps yelling at the cops—mostly to cover his own ass, we suspect—that might be all the DA needs to go to trial.”

  David nodded, grimacing. “It would be really great if, now that I finally got him back, we could not, you know, lose him to twenty-five to life.”

  “Jackson and I will do our best.”

  David’s angel-blue eyes took in Jackson, who was playing a game of chase and tickle with Frances while Henry wiped down the table. “His nightmares—will they ever be gone?”

  Ellery followed his gaze, seeing Jackson laughing, swooping, making bizarre noises that threw the little girl into fits of laughter. “Probably not forever. But believe it or not, this was a good day for us. He might sleep through the night tonight. That’s always a plus.”

  “I’m sorry about that. He doesn’t deserve that—any of it. Yeah, I read up on him after Henry told me he was going out to help with the investigation. Seems like he’s always been one of the good guys.”

  “Count on it. And I’m sorry you and Henry both got pulled into Martin Sampson’s life. None of that was your fault either.”

  David’s smile twisted. “What was it he said? In your twenties, you’re more come than sense? Best description I’ve ever fuckin’ heard.”

  Ellery chuckled. “Hey, next Saturday, we’re having a thing. I mean, as long as we can get Henry off, we’re having a thing, because otherwise it would be sort of shitty to throw a party. But if your brother’s not in jail, do you want to come? I was going to invite Galen and John and Reg and Bobby as well. My office is almost set up, and I’ve got two cases. I think we need canapés and wine.”

  David gave a snort. “As long as you’ve got cheese and salami and beer with that, me and Carlos are in.”

  “Bring Frances’s swimsuit—there’s a pool, and she might enjoy herself.”

  “If you keep my brother out of jail, I’ll bring anything you want. If you hadn’t invited Frances, I could have had half of Johnnies lining up to blow you.”

  Ellery almost swallowed his tongue. By the time young Mr. Worrall was done pounding him on the back and Jackson had come over to make sure he wasn’t going to die, it was time to leave.

  Henry trotted up to walk them out, waiting until they’d cleared the fence to say, “Thanks for being nice to them. They got enough attitude from me, my first month or two here. I’m glad I could bring somebody decent over.”

  “They’re sweet,” Jackson said. “You still want in on the fun stuff tomorrow?”

  Henry grunted. “I’m all for it. But can we meet around ten? Part of my job is plumbing. Between you and me, I think some of the guys are hella fucking bulimic, because this is the second time I’ve had to deal with corroded pipes, and that’s not natural in a newer apartment building.”

  “Thanks, you asshole. I have enough trouble eating as it is. I’ll never get that image out of my head.” Jackson looked truly nauseated, and Ellery wasn’t far behind.

  Henry shrugged. “So, ten o’clock?”

  “I’ll pick you up. We may have to hit the thrift store for some maintenance worker’s outfits. Usually brown polyester button-up shirts with names on the front.”

  Henry nodded. “I’ll see if any of the guys have some. You never know who’s worked what job to pay for their last tattoo.”

  Jackson rolled his eyes. “You know, it’s a good thing I was over porn, because I don’t even think I can watch it now. I mean, I just ate dinner with Dex and Kane, and they’re daddies. And now the sex thing is just weird. Dude. You’re ruining my life.”

  Henry chortled—as he was meant to, Ellery thought. “Yeah, well, that’s what I planned to do when I hit town. Sleep with my brother’s old boyfriend, get accused of murder, and ruin your fucking life. See you tomorrow.”

  “Mañana.”

  Henry left and they got in the car as Ellery tried to put together everything they’d learned. He turned to ask Jackson what he thought of the day and was surprised when Jackson’s quiet snores filled the car.

  He was asleep. He barely woke up enough to move from the car to the bedroom, and he slept all the way through the night.

  Ellery stayed awake for a good half an hour, lying next to him, reading, rubbing a quiet circle between his shoulder blades. Surprised—he was always surprised—at the ways Jackson found to heal himself by helping others.

  It was one of the things that made him the most beautiful man in the world.

  Fish on Cleanup

  THE REASON Jackson was meeting Henry at ten was because he was meeting Crystal at eight. But because he was a good friend, he wasn’t just sneaking into his old place of business and hitting her up for information. Instead, he was greeting her and AJ at her house with coffee and pastries—the super good kind from a nearby bakery, not just a chain.

  “Hey, Jackson. Did you duck from that glass thing Ellery threw?”

  Jackson didn’t even blink. Like Ernie, Crystal just sort of knew things she probably wasn’t supposed to. “Yup.”

  She blinked at him owlishly from behind big-framed glasses and pushed her flyaway hair out of her eyes. She wore long-sleeved shirts, even in the summer, to cover her track marks, and frequently looked lost even though she was the sharpest, fastest hacker Jackson had ever met.

  Being super psychic wasn’t easy on anyone.

  She patted his cheek, though, because Jackson was a safe space for her to be strangely discordant with the world around her. “You were hurt. Not by the glass, though.”

  Jackson caught her hand and looked at her firmly. “Darlin’, I really need that to stay between Ellery and me. We’re all good now, and that’s what’s important.”

  She squeezed his fingers. “If you really believe that, you didn’t learn anything. Did you?”

  He almost whimpered. “Maybe. But I’m here to hit you up for information, and sit down and share breakfast, and I’m just… raw. And still processing. And me and Ellery really are good. Can that do for now?”

  She nodded. “Sure. Come on in. AJ sliced us some fruit, so we can say this is healthy.”

  Awesome. “Sounds great!”

  She rolled her eyes. “Don’t lie to me. Just sit down and eat because you know we’ll nag if you don’t.”

  Ugh. “I really need to start meeting less perceptive people,” he muttered.

  “Sure. We’ll say that’s the problem.” She smiled sweetly, the expression lighting up her plain features into something elfin and charming.

  “Have you cut your hair?” he asked, because there was less of it than usual, and it was going in fewer directions.

  “I did. I adore it. If I hadn’t heard it itches, I’d shave it bald.”

  Jackson laughe
d and shook his own hair out of his eyes. “That’s a good idea. I’ll think about it.”

  “You will not,” AJ said, putting the fruit on the table. Crystal’s house was small—two bedrooms, one bath, a tiny hallway behind the miniscule living room/kitchen/breakfast nook space to connect everything together. But she’d put a series of silver-inked quotes on the wall, everything from poetry to song lyrics, and the air was always pleasantly scented with vanilla and jasmine. The walls were painted a soft variegation from pale faun to ecru to lavender, and the quilt on the battered brown couch matched. She had a rocking chair, a knitting nook, a computer desk, and two enormously fat cats that took up residence on whatever any passing human wanted to sit on next.

  The kitchen/breakfast nook space was painted a gentle yellow, and the drapes over the window that overlooked her postage-stamp front lawn appeared to be hand-knitted lace.

  The place had an air of quiet grace—not wealth—and Jackson felt himself relaxing into her and AJ’s gentle presence effortlessly, as if he’d been waiting the last month to be here.

  “You like my hair?” Jackson asked. “Because it’s a pain in the ass now.”

  “You say that, but I know it’s the one thing you’re vain about.” AJ grinned. His own hair was sunset orange, and sometimes he loved it because it was his natural shade and unusual, and sometimes he hated it because apparently, that was how all redheads felt about their hair before they defended it to the death.

  “That’s not true,” Jackson said, removing the chunky calico from the kitchen chair and getting a disgusted hiss in return. “I’m vain about my cat.”

  Crystal laughed, like she was supposed to, and they dug into the pastry bag and fruit. For a moment, they talked about small things—the calico, for example, had just returned from a frightening foray around the neighborhood and was so freaked out, she’d apparently vowed never to escape the front door again. AJ talked enthusiastically about the new office, filling Crystal in on the things they’d planned for her when the place started getting more business. And then, more guardedly, he talked about Jael, his former roommate, and now, apparently, his date.