A Cold Blue Call

by A. J. Downey

  “I thought you said this place was called The 10-13,” I said hopping off the back of the bike and going for my chinstrap.

  “It’s a double play on words,” he said. “The address is one-zero-one-three, or 10-13, and 10-13 is the call sign when it comes to police for ‘Officer in need of assistance’.”

  “Ahhh, clever!”

  “Yeah, Skids thought so too when he realized the happy accident that was the address after signing the papers. He pointed it out and the name stuck.”

  “So where did ‘The Cormorant’ come from?”

  He laughed a little and I realized I was probably peppering him with questions, but I couldn’t help it, I wanted to know everything when it came to him and the people in his life. It was important to me.

  “The Cormorant has always been The Cormorant. When Skids and Reflash bought it, one of the contract provisions was that the space kept its name. They didn’t have a problem with it. They were determined to build something here and when they took over, The Cormorant was in serious trouble. The place had hit the skids in a bad way – no pun intended.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, for one, when you walked in the front door, you could smell the bathrooms. They closed it down for close to six months while they put it through renovations.”

  “Yikes! Also, that’s disgusting.”

  “Tell me about it. A lot of us pitched in on getting this place up to code. It was a disaster.”

  He opened the door for me and I slipped through with murmured thanks. I didn’t know what I’d expected after the bleak origin story, but I was pleasantly surprised when we walked through the door.

  “Hey, Angel. Go on back to the banquet room; Skids and Reflash are waiting for you,” the hostess behind the podium said.

  “Thanks, Kristy.”

  “No problem!” She beamed at him and smiled more when she saw me and gave me a nod.

  I relaxed a little, the atmosphere was welcoming despite how packed the place was. Football recaps played on the televisions and there was more than a decent crowd for a Sunday night. I followed Angel, threading around two long high-top tables full of beer glasses and piles of chicken bones, past two dartboards and a couple of pool tables, to a switchback ramp leading up to a glassed-in banquet dinner room full of leather- and denim-clad men and women.

  He dragged open the glass door, which squeaked as it scraped across the lintel, and the majority of the people in the room turned and broke into glad cries.

  “Hey, bro.”

  I peeked past Angel and smiled at Golden, who gave me a serious, considering look, and then a nod that couldn’t be interpreted as anything less than grateful. I smiled and gave a nod in return and then it was an absolute flurry of introductions.

  There was another semi-familiar face in the room, although he was much more outlandishly made up than he had been back on the psych ward. I hugged the male nurse who’d delivered Angel’s message, and he cried out, flustered, and waved me off.

  “Oh girl, I do not know why you would think you’re my type!” he declared and I grinned.

  “I’m everybody’s type.”

  He looked me up and down shrewdly and smiled.

  “I know that’s right. Welcome to the madhouse, baby.”

  “It’s cool, I’m from the circus.”

  He grinned broadly and I think he could tell I was a kindred spirit. We theatrical-type kids always stuck together even through adulthood. I figured it was just that now, outside of the mental ward, he could see me. That more of my real personality could shine through. While I was stressed, I wasn’t as stressed, or melancholy, or medicated to within an inch of my life… It made a big difference.

  I met so many people I was a little worried I wouldn’t be able to keep them all straight. There were well over a dozen people present, and even Angel remarked, “Added some leafs to the table and brought some chairs out of storage, huh?”

  “Had to,” a man that I could only assume was Reflash or Skids said over the dull roar of laughter and conversation.

  “Skids, I’d like you to meet Claire.”

  I held out my hand and Skids gripped it firmly. I gave as good as I got and he smiled as we shook.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Claire.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

  “So you really work for the circus?” he asked, and I kind of blushed a bit.

  “Well, I did. I was fired a few hours ago.”

  “No shit?” Skids was loud enough that the rest of the room quieted down.

  “I’d like to talk with you about that, if you don’t mind,” a short man with a small build said. He held a bubbly blonde out of a bottle against him; Aly was her name.

  I had no idea why he would want to talk to me about it, but Angel jumped in with some clarification. “Yale is one of the city’s ADA’s.”

  “And Chrissy is one of my lead prosecutors,” Yale said, tipping a glass in Chrissy’s direction.

  Chrissy gave me a little wave from where she was likewise cuddled up to her man, a shrewd-looking man who looked me over.

  “Okay,” I drawled. “What do you want to know?”

  13

  Angel…

  We set up shop around the big table and brainstormed.

  It was a little weird having the girls in on it, but there wasn’t anything even close to something they needed to be kept out of on this one. There was quite the layman’s discussion about Maryland labor laws and thoughts on what could happen when it came to Milo’s potential prosecution.

  There wasn’t much there, sadly. His first offense, likely to be pled down. Hell, it wasn’t even fifty-fifty on if he’d even bonded out already ‒ more than likely he had. It wasn’t like he was a hardened criminal. Just an asshole.

  Oz had given the dude a little bit of hell during booking in only the way that Oz could, mostly letting Milo think he could get his way, before pulling the rug out from under the guy with reality. It was one of Oz's favorite games and he’d gotten the dude a couple of times. It was good for a laugh, which Claire needed.

  “So, do you know what you’re going to do?” Lil asked, putting down her phone. She was the Google queen when it came to anything. Her author brain somehow tapped her into an extreme-research superpower that usually left the rest of us blinking stupidly, asking ‘How the hell had she come up with that?’ It was useful sometimes; sometimes she came up with some bizarre bass-ackwards way of doing things that left us howling before we could set her straight. Tonight she’d fallen on the side of mostly useful.

  Claire pondered the question and heaved a heavy, slightly-overwhelmed sigh. She sat back in her seat and said, “I don’t know. I’m going to email Milo’s boss tomorrow, but I don’t really expect to get anywhere. I mean, I definitely haven’t gotten anywhere before.”

  “If they don’t address this properly, you definitely have grounds to sue under U.S. labor laws,” Chrissy said, wiping her mouth with her napkin.

  “I don’t understand how it would work out that way. I mean, most of this didn’t happen in the U.S., it happened in other countries.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Yale interjected. “You’re an American worker working for an American company. They have to abide by the American laws and the labor laws of the countries they were operating in.”

  “I didn’t know that,” she said.

  “Happy to help,” Yale said, and I could tell he was looking forward to being an asshole about this. He’d been one of the guys I’d sent the video to for safekeeping. There wasn’t a whole lot he could do, but he was more than likely going to follow up and make sure the dude was prosecuted and the deal put on the table wasn’t the most savory for the defendant. He’d get his pound of flesh and pint of blood.

  The rest of the dinner conversation was fluid, the club finding out more about Claire and Claire finding out about the rest of the club. My brother caught my eye; Lys wasn’t here. Likely she was home with Manolo. He shot me a look in our secret s
ilent twin code and I gave him a chin lift. Claire was laughing at something Oz was saying and I leaned in and whispered I would be right back. She turned to me, smiling, and gave a nod.

  I kissed her to a round of good-natured harassing ‘Awww’s’ and got up. Golden came around the table and followed me out.

  “You need to bring her over for dinner with us at my place,” he said without any preamble.

  I grinned.

  “You like her.”

  He sniffed and looked past me, peering through the glass of the fishbowl up at Claire where she laughed at something someone said.

  “She’s all right. Can’t really get a good feel for her with the big crowd.”

  I kept my smile to myself. I didn’t want to antagonize him. I loved my brother, but he might take a dislike to her on principle if I pushed it. He cracked a smile at me and I laughed a little.

  “You asshole.”

  “Legit, bro. She’s all right, but I’d like to get some family time.”

  “Fair enough. How about Saturday night, we can come by, have dinner, take Manolo back with us so I can take him to Sunday service.”

  He nodded. “Good deal. It’s a date.”

  He turned to head back into the fishbowl and I sighed, “Hey, Rodrigo.”

  He froze and turned back. I didn’t typically use his given name like that, but what I had to say, it was important.

  “Yeah, what’s up?” he asked.

  “What I did, you know, me not telling you? It’s not your fault, bro. It’s nothing you did. I’m serious when I say it was all me.” I swallowed hard and he cocked his head. I pushed on before he could say anything.

  “I was scared you’d be pissed, sure, but I think I was more scared that you’d be disappointed. I didn’t want you to look at me that way, you know? I didn’t want you to ever think you couldn’t count on me and –”

  He came over to me and pulled me into a fierce hug and pounded me on the back.

  “You’re the only motherfucker I got in this life that I can count on. I never, not once in a million fuckin’ years, thought there would ever be a time you weren’t there, man. I always thought it would be me to go first, and facing that possibility? That I almost lost you? Dude, it sucks… but you’re still here and that’s all that matters.”

  I hugged him back, and I said, “I swear to God, bro. The only reason I’m still here is because of Him and that woman right up there.”

  He put enough distance between us to keep shit from getting awkward and said, “And I’ll thank Him every fuckin’ day of my life for that. You have no idea. Even though He and I ain’t seen eye to eye in a minute, I’ll fuckin’ thank Him for that.”

  “And Claire?” I asked.

  “Let me warm up to her, dude. You know how I am.”

  I laughed a little and nodded. “Yeah, I know how you are.” A silence stretched between us, and I had to ask, “We good bro?”

  Golden nodded and said, “We always good.” He knocked me in the shoulder and I nodded. We went back up the ramp and into the fish bowl to a riot of laughter.

  Oz was tellin’ stories again.

  “So, what’d you think?” I asked around an hour later, as Claire and I strolled up the dock arm-in-arm.

  “I think I like your family, both biological and chosen,” she said.

  I couldn’t help but smile. “Good way of putting it.”

  “I know what that’s like,” she said quietly and the mourning in her tone was unmistakable.

  I sighed and felt the weight of her pain when I did it. Wishing I could unburden her from it, knowing that I couldn’t, I said, “Give him some time, mi alma.”

  “Yeah, no, I know…” she trailed off and I stopped in front of our door. She faced me and looked up questioningly and I cupped her cheek. I drew a deep breath of the cool night air and bent, laying my lips over hers carefully.

  Her dark, liquid eyes fluttered shut and she returned my kiss, melting into me, and I held her close. It was moments like these that the troubles surrounding us in their maelstrom of drama and bullshit just fell away and it was just down to me and her. When it was like this, nothing else mattered and it was like we could breathe and take a short reprieve from all of the bullshit.

  I was so down for that, and I could tell Claire was positively eager for it. I broke the kiss so I could get us inside and shut all the drama outside to drown in the bay, for all I cared.

  No sooner had I shut and thrown the lock on the door, Claire was dipping to her knees in front of me, looking up in adoration, her hands drifting over the soft tee covering my body, beneath my jacket and cut, and going to the belt holding my jeans.

  I smiled and leaned back against the door, letting her have her way. She didn’t hesitate, her hands undoing my belt, her fingers nimbly undoing the button and zipper of my fly. I watched her, the first stirrings of desire making my cock grow warm even as she lifted it free of my pants and underwear and slipped it into her mouth.

  I was still soft, just starting to grow hard, and the feel of becoming fully aroused in the soft, wet, warmth of her mouth was a new sensation. It was one that I had to admit I liked. I closed my eyes and tipped my head back against the door and half-sighed, half-moaned as she worked me, carefully with her lips, tongue and hands.

  “Shit, Claire…” I lost my voice to a shudder as she brought me from zero to sixty faster than I thought I was capable of. The friction of her velvety soft tongue against my shaft was outstanding and I was finding it hard not to thrust.

  I looked down, straight into her dark eyes which were glittering with mirth, a playful smile turning up the corners of her mouth around my cock. Somehow, the whole effect of watching her blow me and enjoy it put me on cloud fucking nine. Legit, if I could hold out and watch her all night, I would, but as good as her mouth on me felt, I just loved being inside her pussy. There was something about listening to her moan, watching her arch beneath me, her body fluttering around mine where I penetrated her… God, the whole package put me into seventh heaven.

  “God, yes,” I growled and felt my legs shake.

  It was just me and her, and we had all night. I wasn’t about to waste a minute of it sleeping, either. Not if I could help it.

  14

  Claire…

  I think I completely undid him because one moment I was blissfully sucking his cock and the next I was being hauled to my feet, his mouth crushing over mine. He spun me around and shoved me against the kitchen counter, bending me at the waist, pressing me flat against the cool stone.

  “I think you’re asking for it, little girl,” he breathed in my ear, and I pressed my ass back against his cock.

  “I’m most definitely asking for it,” I answered and he growled, this low, guttural, and completely erotic sound that made me four times wetter than I already was.

  He ripped open the junk drawer I’d stashed the condoms in last night and pulled out the bag. He thrust his hips tight up against my backside and pinned me against the island counter, the edges of the stone digging across my hips. That helpless feeling was delicious, mostly because I knew I could trust him to just make it feel good.

  “Get your pants down, Claire,” he ordered and let me up just enough to comply. I did as I was told while he put a condom on himself, and no sooner did I have my pants and underwear off my ass then he was back. He kicked my feet apart and bent me forward over the counter, his big hand buried in the collar at the back of my neck.

  “Touch your pussy, baby. Touch your pussy while I fuck you.”

  Oh, God. My body clenched at his words, desire coiling low in my belly like a snake about to strike. He shoved himself inside me and I cried out, both hands flat against the cool stone countertop as my hipbones barked against the counter’s edge. He stilled, asked if I was all right and once I gave a breathy “Yeah, don’t stop,” he was back at it, his intensity, the frenzy, not one bit diminished.

  He reared back and slammed back into me and I tightened around him, reluctant t
o let him withdraw. Withdraw he did, though, and then he was back, surging forward, each thrust powerful and possessive in all the right ways. He claimed my body and I didn’t need to touch myself to get the orgasm to grow.

  A sharp smack landed on my right ass cheek and he barked, “I said touch yourself!”

  I slipped a hand between me and the counter and pressed fingertips to my clit crying out, “Oh God, Angel!”

  “That’s it baby, don’t stop. Don’t stop until you fucking come for me.”

  I arched provocatively, thrusting my hips back, tilting my ass up like an offering, accepting the punishing rhythm of his cock into my body. I welcomed the pleasure that was so strong, so intense, it bordered on pain, an exquisite pain that was a much-needed catharsis with everything I had going on. I begged for it, I needed it, and he was perfect, he didn’t relent, he was everything I needed and then some, and I reveled in this.

  It wasn’t long until I exploded around him, a sexy wailing scream of delighted release escaping my throat making me wonder for a second was that even me?

  He shoved into me repeatedly, his even strokes breaking up, stuttering as he lost his pace to his own release. He shoved into me one last time, touching me soul-deep and bent, collapsing forward over my body, sheltering me and protecting me, his hot, panting breath teasing behind my ear and making me shudder, my pussy rippling with aftershock around his thick shaft.

  His breath caught, and he gave a spasming cry of pleasure. His dick was still way oversensitive from his own orgasm. I clenched around him again, this time on purpose and he sucked a breath in, hissing between clenched teeth.

  “Fuck, you feel so good, baby.”

  “So do you,” I said. “I really hope you’re ready to go again soon, because I am so not done.”

  “Gimme five and a change of position and I’ll fuck you all night if you want. Just, this angle? My thighs are screaming.”

  I laughed and said, “Let me up and let’s get naked.”