Love on the Rocks

by J. P. Bowie

  He texted Riley.

  How’s it going?

  It took a little while for Riley to answer, but it made Joe smile when he did.

  Missing the heck out of you. I finish at six so I’ll go home feed our buddies, shower and come see you, or is it see you come? Can’t believe I said that. How’s your shoulder? Let me know if you need anything.

  Shoulder’s fine. Maybe pick up something to eat on your way over? See you later.

  His cell chimed again almost immediately. He grinned when he saw it was from Scott Reynolds.

  You up for some visitors in about an hour?

  He texted back, Am I ever. Bored outta my gourd.

  Okay. See you in a few.

  He and Scott went back a few years, bonding when they’d discovered they were both gay. Over a drink or several in a local bar, they’d swapped coming-out stories and compared their dads, neither one coming up smelling like a rose.

  They’d flirted with each other for a few weeks, but Joe was more eager to have him as a friend than a lover, or even a fuck-buddy. They’d kissed once. A kiss that’d had them chuckling as they’d both tried to take control and ended up with them laughing their asses off. Not that Scott wasn’t good-looking. He was. His sandy hair and green eyes made him a stand-out in the looks department, and he had a great sense of humor, but they’d both acknowledged that two tops do not a perfect union make. Joe had said he might just try to be versatile, but Scott had nixed any idea he might even consider it.

  “Tried it once, didn’t like it,” he remarked, “so don’t go getting any ideas I’ll change for you…hot as you are.”

  A week later Scott had met Jeremy Brooks, an event planner who’d been witness to a vicious assault on the street near his office. He’d called the cops and Joe and Scott had shown up to take his statement. Joe swore he saw sparks fly at that first meeting. They were married a year later, but the friendship Joe and Scott had forged survived and Joe appreciated having his buddy in the same precinct.

  Okay, so better spruce up a bit. Jeremy always looks like he stepped out of GQ magazine.

  He shaved, brushed his hair into a semblance of tidiness and put on a fresh T-shirt and jeans. Getting into shirts was still a chore, but he managed without too much sweat. Then he prepped the coffeemaker. Scott loved coffee to the tune of five or six cups in the morning, and so far, Jeremy had not been able to break him of the habit.

  A loud knocking announced Scott and Jeremy’s arrival. “Hey, guys, thanks for comin’ over,” he said after opening the door.

  “Something’s missing.” Scott looked beyond Joe into the living room. “Where’s Barney? First time I’ve been over that he’s not greeting me with that sloppy tongue of his.”

  “A…a friend’s looking after him till I get more use of this arm.”

  “Can I hug you or are you all in pain and stuff?”

  “Scott…” Jeremy impatiently pushed him aside and gave Joe a careful hug. “You just have to show restraint, if you can.” As usual, Jeremy was dressed immaculately. Even in casual gear he looked like a model. Scott, on the other hand, had the rumpled look down pat.

  Joe chuckled. “Not part of his character, as we know.”

  “Hey, I come over to see you bearing gifts and I get insulted. Come here, you.” Scott hugged him, with restraint. “Bet you’re glad they caught that skunk Murdoch.”

  “Yeah, but you heard what he’s trying to do?” Joe asked as they walked into the kitchen. “Coffee, Jeremy? No need to ask your husband.”

  “Yeah, one cup won’t kill me, I guess. We brought you some bagels.”

  “Fantastic.”

  “Yeah, Romero quizzed most of us yesterday,” Scott said, sounding irritated. “As if. Murdoch just wants to get some petty revenge goin’. He’s mad at the world because his little racket blew up in his face. Although how the fuck he thought he’d get away with shooting you and leaving you for dead at the bottom of a cliff is beyond me. He wasn’t smart enough to pull it off and he got caught.”

  “You have some cream cheese, Joe?” Jeremy asked.

  “Fridge, top shelf on the left. Romero says the Feds will be in today.”

  “Right, and they’re not gonna go for any of Murdoch’s guff. He’s acted like a total idiot since we locked him up. Now he’s rantin’ and ravin’ about how we’re all up to our necks in the shit he had going. Fuckin’ dickwad.”

  Jeremy looked up from spreading cream cheese on the bagels. “Is it possible the Feds might just believe him?” He flinched when Scott and Joe both stared at him like he had two heads. “Just saying.”

  Joe shrugged then winced. “Shit, gotta remember not to do that. It’s possible, I guess, but he has no proof, at least not on Scott and me…and the other guys, none of them seemed to like Murdoch too much. Of course, stranger things have happened.”

  “I don’t believe anybody else at the precinct was in on it with him.” Scott scowled. “For one thing, he’s too goddamn mean to share the profits. What a scumbag.”

  “Have a bagel.” Jeremy handed one on a paper plate to Joe. “How’s the shoulder, by the way?”

  “It’s getting there. The nurse said it was a bit inflamed this morning, but nothing serious.”

  “This must be killing you,” Scott observed. “I know it’d drive me nuts being all strapped up like that.” He winked at Joe. “Just as well you have a left hand.”

  Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Classy, Scott.”

  Joe’s face grew hot. No way could he tell them about Riley’s accomplishments.

  “So who’s the friend looking after Barney? Someone at the precinct? You could’ve asked me and Jeremy, you know.”

  Shit, did he just read my mind? “You and Jeremy were out of town on vacation when it all happened. The paramedic who found me came by to see me later and I asked him if he’d mind coming up here and letting Barney out. He took him to his place… He has a dog, Champ, and they get along real good.”

  “That’s right,” Jeremy said. “I saw him on the news. Cute guy. What’s his name?”

  “Riley, and yeah, he’s been a trooper, looking after Barney. He’s brought him up here to see me couple of times. Nice guy.”

  “How nice?” Scott gave him a narrow-eyed look.

  “Nice.” Joe avoided Scott’s inquisitive gaze by pouring three mugs of coffee.

  Jeremy chuckled. “You’ll have to do better than that if you want to shut him up.”

  “Hey…” Scott grinned at them. “Okay, I’ll step out of character and not pry…too much. But any further developments, I want to hear all about it.”

  Joe sat at the counter and tackled his bagel. Further developments. When he thought about that, he felt something like a flare of hope that maybe this time he’d found a guy, a good guy, he might have a future with. Of course, it was way too soon for that kind of thinking…but bringing up the vision of Riley’s smiling face and the memory of his soft lips tracing kisses over Joe’s skin was enough for the detective to, maybe crazily, hang on to that hope…and also that this mess with Murdoch would get straightened out soon.

  “You’ve gone awful quiet.” Scott’s stage whisper in his ear shook Joe from his reverie. Probably just in time, he thought. He had the beginnings of a boner pushing at his fly.

  “I think you interrupted the memory of something nice,” Jeremy said, chuckling.

  “Okay, put us out of our misery,” Scott whined. “Are you seeing this guy, this paramedic, this…?”

  “Riley,” Jeremy prompted.

  “Right, Riley.”

  “I could be, but it’s too early to say it’s more than that. Like I said, he’s been up here a few times, but mostly to bring Barney. We shared a pizza and beer last night, watched a movie, that kind of thing…”

  “He stay the night or—?”

  “Okay, that’s enough with the inquisition,” Jeremy cut Scott off. “You’re making Joe uncomfortable, and that’s not why we’re here.”

  “It’s not?”


  Jeremy punched him on the arm. “Don’t pay him no never mind, Joe, to quote my old grandma.”

  “All right, all right,” Scott grumped. “So, what’s the prognosis with the shoulder? How long before you’re back giving the criminals of Orange County hell?”

  “Weeks,” Joe said morosely. “According to the doctor, the home nurse, and uh, yeah, Riley, it’ll take weeks before I’m right as rain, whatever that means. Romero said he’d find me desk duty once this”—he pointed at his arm—“is out of its strait-jacket.”

  “Sucks to be you, buddy.” Scott sounded sincere, then he winked. “So, Riley coming over tonight?” He ducked the slap Jeremy aimed at the back of his head.

  Joe chuckled. “I thought you weren’t going to pry.”

  “This is too important to just ignore. My buddy Joe might be dating a guy. That’s big news in and of itself, but not just any guy…” Scott waved a hand dramatically. “The guy who saved him from certain death, lying at the bottom of cliff, hidden from sight, perhaps forever, had it not been for Riley and his dog, Spot!”

  “Champ.”

  “What?”

  “Riley’s dog is called Champ.”

  “Oh.” Scott grinned. “And is Riley a champ, too?”

  Jeremy smacked him before he could duck this time. “Honest to God, Scott, you are too much. Look at poor Joe. He’s gone all red in the face.” He started to laugh. “Oh my God, you guys!”

  Joe’s laughter was a bit more forced. “Ha ha. I thought you came to make me feel better, not embarrass the crap outta me.”

  “But, Joe…” Scott was still grinning, “this is big. You haven’t ever dated for as long as I’ve known you.”

  “We haven’t been on a date yet.”

  “Ah, but my psychic senses tell me you’ve gone to the next step even without a date. Am I right?”

  “Jeez, Scott.”

  Jeremy sighed. “That’s it, I’m taking you out of here and locking you up to keep all unsuspecting friends safe from your inappropriate nosiness.”

  “Oh, come on,” Scott moaned. “We’re buddies, Joe, you and I. We share everything, you know that.”

  “Wait a minute.” Jeremy looked as if he might just smack Scott again. “What d’you mean everything?”

  Scott gave him an innocent look. “Nothing about us, of course, sweetheart. Right, Joe?”

  Joe stared at them both long enough for Scott to start squirming and Jeremy to seethe before he laughed and said, “Of course not, just as I will not share what goes on between Riley and me…if it ever does.”

  “Hmm…” Jeremy didn’t appear to be entirely convinced. Joe figured Scott had some ‘splainin’ to do when they got home.

  * * * *

  They weren’t out of the door two minutes when his phone rang. “Joe Brady.”

  “Detective Brady, this is Simon French from the Orange County Times.”

  Shit… “Oh yeah? What can I do for you?”

  “I’m following up on a rumor that Federal Agents have not only been questioning Bob Murdoch about his drug protection racket but are investigating your involvement, along with several of the detectives and police officers at your precinct. Do you wish to make a statement apropos this rumor?”

  “I certainly do not,” Joe snapped. “I suggest you contact Sergeant Romero at the precinct and ask him. If—”

  “But you must have much more information than Romero,” French interrupted. “After all, you’re the one Murdoch allegedly shot. Did he offer you a deal and shoot you because you turned him down or were you trying to muscle in on his territory?”

  “You fuckin’ sleaze. This is why no one ever wants to talk to dicks like you. Now fuck off and don’t try this kind of shit with me again!”

  He ended the call and stopped himself from slamming anything about. Just the way his body had tensed from the aggravation of French’s suggestion must have sent warning signals straight to his shoulder.

  “Goddamn it.” He punched in Romero’s number.

  “Sergeant Romero.”

  “Sarge, Brady. Some newspaper jerk just called wanting a statement from me.”

  “You didn’t give him one, I hope.”

  “No, I didn’t, but he knew about the Feds being there and he implied in a slimy way that I might have been trying to muscle in on Murdoch’s racket, and that’s why he shot me.”

  “Son-of-a-bitch. You didn’t rise to the bait, did you?”

  “No, of course not. I told him to fuck off and talk to you.”

  Jeez, Romero can be a dick at times.

  “All right. How are you feeling today?”

  “Okay. Reynolds was here earlier trying to cheer me up.”

  “And did it work?”

  “Kind of. I like the way Jeremy makes him toe the line.”

  Romero cleared his throat. Right, he doesn’t want to hear this. “Okay, Sarge, just thought I’d give you a heads-up about the press.”

  “Yeah, glad you did. I’ll deal with whoever calls. Take it easy, Joe.”

  “Thanks, Sarge.”

  Joe slumped back in his chair. So it was already in the air that Murdoch was trying to involve the whole precinct in his shit. And rumors like that had a nasty way of hanging around even after they’d been shot down. Like cobwebs in a musty old hall, they’d cling to everyone passing through and were hard to brush off completely.

  Damn him. Murdoch knew there was no way he could beat the rap but he was going to try to ruin other people’s lives along with his own.

  Chapter Ten

  Riley hummed a happy tune as he scooted around his local supermarket picking up stuff for his and Joe’s dinner. He’d figured a hearty chicken stew would be a pleasant change after the hospital food Joe had been subjected to, and the pizza and fast food they’d shared most nights. He’d found a fairly easy recipe online that was mostly vegetables, chicken broth and chicken pieces. A couple of baked potatoes and a salad on the side should do the trick. He picked up a bottle of Chardonnay on the way to the register. He wasn’t sure if Joe liked wine but it could make a good addition to the recipe if not.

  As he exited the market, he spotted a familiar figure leaning against his Kia. Oh, for… Was he into stalking now? He hadn’t changed at all. Still slender, his dark hair carefully styled, his clothes immaculately matched. He was wearing a white button-down shirt and beige slacks, and even from a distance of several yards the cocky attitude was obvious as he observed passers-by with disdain through narrowed eyes.

  “Hey, Miles, what brings you to Laguna?”

  “You, of course.” Miles gave him what looked like a predatory smile. “I told you I was planning on coming down to see you, didn’t I?”

  “And I told you some advance warning would be good.”

  “I texted you about it.”

  Oh yeah, the text I ignored…shit. “Well, I’m sorry, but I’m kinda busy tonight. I’m making dinner for a friend.”

  “What, he can’t take you out for dinner?”

  Riley tamped down his irritation at Miles’ snarky remark. “He just got out of the hospital, Miles, and he has to rest up for a while. I offered to make him dinner, so sorry, but as I said, I’m busy this evening.”

  “Jeez.” Miles rolled his eyes and sighed. “You spend all day dealing with sick people then you volunteer to spend time with another sicky when you get off shift. What are you trying for…a sainthood or something?”

  “Were you always such a dick, Miles? Joe is not a sicky, as you so nastily termed it. He’s a detective who was shot while on duty.”

  “Oh, well…I didn’t know, sorry.”

  “Maybe you should ask before you run off at the mouth.”

  “Hey, that’s enough with the insults.” Anger flared behind Miles’ eyes. “I came down here to see you, to take you to dinner, to make amends, try to be your friend again, and—”

  “And I’m sorry but I’m just not interested. Frankly, Miles, I find your behavior a bit on the creepy side. I
told you I didn’t want to have dinner…maybe a coffee, but to let me know when you were thinking of coming down. Now you just show up out of the blue, expecting me to drop everything and make time for you. Well, sorry, Miles, that’s not going to happen. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get a move on.”

  Miles gaped at him as if in disbelief. Riley opened the back of the Kia and began loading the bags of groceries into it. Miles grabbed Riley’s arm and snarled, “Wait a fucking minute. You don’t get to dismiss me like that. I came all the way down here and you treat me like this?”

  Riley wrenched his arm away. “All the way, Miles? It’s a one-hour drive, not a trek through the Sahara.”

  “You little bitch!”

  “But not your bitch, Miles. Now, go home and for the love of God find someone else to pester.”

  Riley moved to open his car door and was violently pushed against the door panel. “I said you don’t talk to me like that, cunt!”

  Fuck, that hurt. The side of Riley’s face throbbed from being slammed against the glass.

  “What’s going on there?” A woman’s high-pitched voice sounded close by. “Are you being gay-bashed? I’ll call the police!”

  Miles’ grip on the back of Riley’s neck disappeared and when he turned around to defend himself Miles was already running across the parking lot—heading toward his own car, Riley presumed.

  “Stop!” the woman yelled. “Security!”

  “It’s okay, lady, thank you,” Riley said hastily. There was little chance of a security guard showing up but he didn’t want to chance it. “You scared him off, thank you.”

  “Oh, it’s terrible what can happen these days.” She gazed at Riley at length as if she was memorizing his face. “And you’re such a nice-looking boy, and your uniform…are you a paramedic? How terrible that you should be attacked…all the good work you do.”