by K. Sterling
“I hate watching you get hit,” Wal said as he scrubbed his face with his hands. Why did I get donuts? It’s too early to see him licking glaze off his fingers and lips like that.
“I don’t get hit as much as I used to. That’s how you know you’re improving,” Marco said jauntily before he chomped greedily through the donut. “I’ve got a lot of frustrations to purge,” he added then pointed his chin at Wal’s car as he swallowed. “Now I can get my hands dirty. I just got it up on the lift, it’s due for an oil change,” he said and Wal nodded along as he followed.
“What’s with the lockdown?” He asked and Marco shrugged dismissively.
“I got a little spooked last night and it just hasn’t worn off,” he said as he reached for the lift’s frame and leaned as he inspected the undercarriage.
“Spooked?” Wal repeated but Marco shook his head.
“It was a cat or a raccoon but I felt like someone was watching me. I was probably too into my head after the date,” he murmured as he pointed and Wal stepped closer so he could see. “I’ll replace that,” he said but Wal wasn’t paying attention. He should have been but Marco was so close and his shirt slid up while the waist of his jeans pulled lower, revealing shiny black elastic. Like many attractive, young men in the city, Marco took a stab at modeling and made it to a few shoots but was quickly turned off by the drugs and sexual predators. He did enjoy the underwear and people enjoyed seeing him in it. Wal had no idea how it worked but from what he understood, Marco had quite a following on one of the social media platforms and his underwear selfies were extremely popular. Wal couldn’t bring himself to look. He was afraid he’d burn because he knew how good it felt to run his hands over that ass and how delicious Marco would taste beneath the black silk and lace. Marco leaned toward decadent, “feminine” styles and it drove him wild. All Wal wanted to do was slide his hand around Marco’s waist and pull him against his chest. There was barely a breath between them and he smelled like heaven as Wal quietly inhaled and held on to his scent. “Wal?” Marco asked as he looked over his shoulder. Their cheeks could have brushed and Wal could have kissed him if he wasn’t scared.
“Right,” Wal said then cleared his throat. “This?” He asked distantly before his brows pulled together and he reached over Marco’s shoulder. He stiffened as Wal’s chest pressed against his back. “Sorry,” he murmured as he stepped back.
“I didn’t mind,” Marco said playfully but there was a slight waver to his voice and Wal wasn’t sure how to take it. He blinked at Marco for a moment then shook his head.
“Do whatever you want,” he said as he gestured at the car. “I’m more concerned about you being spooked,” he stated and Marco rolled his eyes.
“I probably spooked a raccoon and it kicked a can in the alley. I got a really weird feeling but I was already feeling pretty weird. It was probably nothing,” he said but Wal was going to take a look around and keep a closer eye on the shop as well. “Whatever. Hand me the wrench and the pan,” Marco ordered.
“What are you frustrated about?” Wal asked as he handed them to Marco and he snorted.
“Mostly sex these days,” he said as he waited for the oil to drain and Wal made a noncommittal sound despite the heat pooling in his groin and the tears welling in his eyes. They were so good together and it had been so long.
“I find meditation helpful and no one hits you if you’re not good at it,” Wal suggested and Marco rolled his eyes.
“You’re also allowed to shoot people so you’ve got other outlets. I don’t think meditation’s enough on its own,” he argued and Wal’s eyes tightened as he considered. He didn’t shoot people very often but a drunk cab driver attacked him on Tuesday and Wal did enjoy that. He felt refreshed and lighter after he wrestled the beast to the ground.
“Maybe. I still don’t like watching you get hit in the face. Your mother put a lot of work into that,” he scolded and Marco shushed Wal as he patted his cheek.
“And you sound just like mom. I’m sure she appreciates you filling in for her while she’s in Fort Lauderdale with grandma,” he said and Wal slapped his hand away.
“If you stop being pretty you’ll have to rely on your personality to make friends and that’s not going to go well for you,” Wal replied flatly and Marco cackled as he pointed at Wal.
“Hey! Driving advice from a blind man!” He laughed and Wal nodded.
“I know a thing or two about being ugly and lacking a personality. Is this what you want?” He asked as he gestured at himself and Marco blinked back at him as it became excruciatingly awkward. He made it clear he doesn’t, Wal reminded himself.
“Shut up. You’re not ugly and you have a personality,” Marco replied and elbowed Wal then handed him the pan. “You use it sparingly but you make up for it by being an excellent listener,” he said and Wal looked up at him.
“Sparingly?” he said and Marco winced.
“You’re a really good listener,” he repeated and Wal held up his middle finger as he took himself off to dump the oil. He might smash himself in the face with something large, heavy, and metal while he was back there.
Chapter 4
“That sounds better,” Marco said as his temple rested against the steering wheel and he listened again. He nodded then turned to look behind him before he reversed off the lift and his eyes caught on the corner of a comic book hiding under Wal’s overcoat, on the back seat. Marco put the car in park then reached back and pulled it out. “You’re just going to get tossed in a box and forgotten, I’m afraid,” he said as he opened it and gave a page a quick glance, the way he’d seen Wal, countless times. He snorted and shook his head as he sat back in the driver’s seat and stared at the cover. He’d quietly watched in baffled amusement as Wal flipped open hundreds of comic books just enough to check half a page. One evening, Marco’s curiosity finally got the better of him.
“This isn’t the one,” Wal said simply, when Marco asked him why he was inserting a comic book into a protective sleeve after barely looking at it. Depending on the title, Wal would find his way to the proper box and toss the comic in then promptly forget about it. There were boxes of various sizes all over Wal’s apartment. Marco occasionally visited Wal’s place when they were dating and never returned after they broke up. Why would you, if you weren’t there to have sex? Sex was the only thing that might tempt Marco and it was an indication of just how good the sex was, that he’d gone back so many damn times.
“Why?” Marco scolded himself as he shifted and adjusted the front of his jeans. Wal’s apartment was like a sterile storage room with nothing but a ton of boxes, a couch and mountains of suits in plastic dry cleaner bags. Wal had a bed but he never slept in it and there was never any food. Marco would be too turned on and impatient when he arrived, but as soon as they were done having sex, he’d feel sad and tense as he looked around Wal’s apartment. Marco understood a plant and a few pictures wouldn’t make up for an empty, lonely childhood but he wished Wal cared a little more about himself. He deserved someplace he could unwind and rest comfortably but all he had were thousands upon thousands of comic books he had no interest in reading. Marco bought Wal a plant when they first started dating but it appeared in the shop a week later.
“I don’t know how often I’m supposed to water it and I’m afraid it’ll die,” Wal said as he pushed it across Marco’s work table.
“It’s just a plant!” He laughed but Wal blinked back at him. As if Marco didn’t understand.
“I’d feel much better if it stayed in your apartment,” he said. Marco might have imagined it, but he was sure Wal checked on the spider plant whenever he was upstairs.
“What are you looking for?” Marco asked as he swatted the steering wheel with the comic book. Why couldn’t Wal live with anything other than his boxes of comics? Why couldn’t Wal let anything into his life? Marco lasted exactly six months before he realized he was never going to compete with work. In the beginning, Marco thought it was sexy. Wal was selfl
ess and utterly dedicated to serving and protecting the public. He didn’t mind when Wal pulled out mid-fuck so he could rush downtown to help with a shootout at a convenience store. Wal was like a gay Dirty Harry and quickly ended the standoff when he shot the shooter in the shoulder from the roof of a bus shelter across the street. Then, he calmly strolled into the shop and went back to fucking Marco, as if he hadn’t missed a beat. How the fuck do you get over that? Marco complained bitterly as he opened the center console and a soft laugh slipped from him as he picked up the sunglasses he bought Wal. He opened the case and sighed. He’d be surprised if Wal had ever taken them out of the case, they looked exactly like they did on his birthday, two years ago. Wal was so appalled at how much he assumed they cost, his eyes watered and he asked Marco to take them back. If Wal decided he needed something, he didn’t care how expensive it was, he’d overanalyze then buy the best example of whatever that thing was then buy the exact same model when the thing wore out. But he struggled with gifts because he’d received so few as a child.
Wal spent most of his childhood as an orphan. Marco didn’t know very much about Wal’s family but he had a feeling Wal didn’t know that much either. Wal’s mother never told anyone who his father was and she died when Wal was too young for him to remember very much about her. He told Marco he had a few memories of his grandfather, before he had a stroke and Wal was placed in the foster care system, when he was almost four. Wal bounced around foster homes and group homes until he was old enough to go the police academy, at eighteen. He thrived at the academy because he finally found someplace he understood and fit in and Marco suspected it was the first time Wal felt like he had a family. The only other person who came close to family, for Wal, was his old partner, Bill. They worked together for six years before Bill became chief, five years ago. Bill mentored him after he arrived at the department then became Wal’s partner when he made detective at the age of twenty-three. Wal was both the pride of the department and the problem child. He was an uncanny investigator with an unquestionable sense of duty and honor but he didn’t mind bending the rules or just disregarding them altogether to catch a criminal or save a victim. At the end of the day, all Wal cared about was finding the answer and seeing justice served. Which was why Wal idolized Bill and was devoted to his fellow officers. Most people confused or irritated Wal but he understood cops and what they expected from him.
Marco never took for granted how lucky he was to be one of the few people Wal trusted and barely opened up to. Most people saw Wal as aloof and intimidating. And a bit of a freak. Sometimes, his quiet hyperfocus could come across a little creepy and Wal didn’t put a lot of effort into small talk or being polite. He took people at face value and treated them accordingly, in varying degrees of indifference. He could quietly tolerate an elderly woman as she overwhelmed him with stories about her rabbi or he could coldly ignore a handcuffed suspect as he spit and screamed obscenities at Wal that would make most men go berserk. It’s got to be the meditation music. Wal wasn’t Buddhist but he meditated and chanted to help himself stay calm and concentrate.
While it might seem like a sweet gig, dating a sharp-shooting monk who always fucked like he was finally ready to break his vows and his robes were on fire, it got old and lonely really fast. The sex was phenomenal (catastrophic, even) and the hours they spent in bed together, touching and teasing, were magical. When they lasted. After a few months, it stopped being hot when Wal rolled out of bed and jumped back into his suit the moment his phone rang. At first, Marco thought he could deal with Wal canceling dates and just turning up in the middle of the night to get laid before he passed out for four hours. Then, Marco began to feel guilty as the jealousy creeped in. How could he blame Wal for being a great cop when one of the reasons he fell in love with him was because he was such a great cop?
Fell in love with. That was the catch. It didn’t take long for Marco to fall in love with Wal and he ignored all the warning signs until he realized he was the only one falling. He didn’t know if Wal was feeling anything, most of the time. It was like watching a volcano but never seeing so much as a plume of smoke or a puff of steam. But Marco sensed something molten and destructive beneath the surface and yearned to see it unleashed. Unfortunately, he could never get more than some paralyzed blinking or a flat, vague mutter from Wal that just left Marco more disoriented and frustrated. And their fights were bizarre. Wal would get quieter and quieter until Marco was able to pry a swear word or a gasp of exasperation from him that usually preceded something dry and so pragmatic, it was harsh and unfair. Which inevitably caused Marco to blow up and leave or slam a door in Wal’s face. Wal didn’t resort to names or petty jabs, he would simply state the cold truth, whether it was favorable for him or not. ‘I forgot we had plans for dinner because I was focused on getting a stabbing victim to the hospital before he bled out. It was more important to me that he lived and I got a complete statement from him.’ There was no possible way to argue with that, Marco learned. He couldn’t argue that he was more important than a saving a victim and ask Wal to stop. He couldn’t even yell at Wal for being blunt and hurting his feelings by being honest. In the end, Marco couldn’t fault Wal for being exactly as advertised. He could only fault himself for believing he could be the kind of boyfriend or husband who could make that kind of personal sacrifice. He had to accept that he was selfish and needed more than Wal could give. And that was no one’s fault but Marco’s.
Chapter 5
You could wait until he asks for it, Wal told himself as he stared at Marco’s jacket. He has others, he added then sighed as he reached back into the truck, over the driver’s seat and grabbed it from the passenger’s seat. It’s his favorite and he’s probably looked everywhere for it. Wal found it in the truck and took it up to his apartment so he could sniff it and hug it like a security blanket for a week. It smelled like Marco and Wal didn’t sleep with it but he found himself holding it against his chest as he read and idly fidgeting with a sleeve as he talked on the phone. Or, just carrying it from room to room for no reason other than he couldn’t stop sniffing it. He realized it was becoming a bit of a security blanket, that he felt more relaxed as he pushed his face into the leather motorcycle jacket and pulled Marco’s scent into his nose and lungs. He couldn’t keep it forever and his guilt wore him down, so Wal decided it was time to part with it. Before he became emotionally attached or dependent upon it. It’s just a jacket, he scolded himself. Why did he have to overthink it? He shook his head as he draped it over his arm then smoothed his hand across it reverently. He sighed again and it was heavy and full of longing as he locked the truck’s door then turned and jogged to the diner across the street.
“Wal!” A raspy old voice called as he reached the sidewalk and Wal turned to find Medford Jones waving at him from his scooter by his stoop.
“Sir,” Wal said as he bowed his head and hurried over. “How’s the ankle?” He asked as he offered his hand and Jones waved it off before he grasped Wal’s hand.
“It’s never gonna work again but neither am I,” he stated then reached up, for Wal’s shoulder and waved for him to come closer. “You told me to tell you if I heard anything about the Cole girl,” he said quietly and Wal’s eyes tightened and he instinctively looked around before he leaned in. It was unheard of, that somebody wouldn’t know something, in their little corner of the city. Unless Wavy T was involved, then it wasn’t safe to know anything. The old women who sat outside the laundromat and the usual crew at Gordon’s Barber Shop could tell you which wives got around and who drops their trash out the window at night instead of going down to the dumpster but suddenly, nobody knew who Ciara Cole was. Despite watching her skip rope and play hopscotch on the same sidewalks just about every damn day of her childhood. Every bodega had their own security camera and just about every cab had their own dash cam these days but no one could find a trace of Ciara or they’d recently deleted everything, when Wal asked if he could check out their recordings.
“Wh
at did you hear?” Wal asked quietly as he squatted and tied Jones’ shoe, so he’d have a reason to be closer and it wouldn’t get caught on the scooter when he was getting off.
“I didn’t hear anything directly but they can’t find Cedric Smith. I heard he wasn’t happy about something he did with Wavy T,” Medford said under his breath and Wal laughed as he stood and patted him on the arm as if he’d told a terrible joke. Which was very likely with Medford.
“Was it something to do with her?” He said as he checked his watch and Jones nodded as he leaned forward and rested on the handle.
“He said he never wanted to mess with her because she lived next door to his grandma,” Jones whispered and his eyes were deep with worry and expected grief as they held Wal’s.
“Is that all?” Wal asked softly and Jones gave him a faint nod. Wal flashed him a large, laughing grin and it hurt his face as he stepped back and pointed. “You’ll have to tell me what Saul did next time. Marco’s waiting for me,” he said loudly as he waved and Medford winked.
“Go on! You’re always in a rush!” He complained after him and Wal threw an arm up guiltily as he ran for the diner’s door. The smile fell as he pushed the door open. He tapped his brow at Tony, behind the kitchen window, then went to their booth in the corner.
“Was it in the truck?” Marco asked as Wal handed him his jacket then gasped in relief as he hugged it before jamming it into the corner of his seat. “I turned the shop and my apartment upside down,” he added and Wal felt another flash of guilt.
“Sorry. I kept meaning to bring it but forgot,” he said absently then looked up as Tony, from behind the counter arrived. Anthony Carlo Manzetti (Tony, behind the kitchen window) and Anthony Allessandro Manzetti (Tony, from behind the counter) ran the family diner and their father, Anthony Lorenzo Jr. (Tony, at the newsstand) ran the newsstand next door.