"I'm sorry justice doesn't move fast enough for you." He was gritting his teeth. "You're acting like a spoiled child."
"Like I've never heard that before." I rolled my eyes. "Look, I've got to get out of here. I don't know how you can stand to sit still for so long. You need to find some new questions, because you're not getting anywhere. And, yes, that's all I can tell you. I swear, if you try to make me stay here a second longer, something's going to blow!"
He didn't try to stop me this time. I moved fast towards the door, stopping only to grab my leather jacket and yank it off a hook. All eyes were on me.
That's me. Love a dramatic exit.
Feeling hard and mean under their judgmental stares — making up their minds about me without knowing what was going on at all — I lost my temper. I turned to them and raised my arms wide.
"Gentlemen — ladies — fuzz. It's been fucking real."
Then I swept a low, sarcastic bow, swung the jacket over my shoulder, and sashayed the hell out of there.
Just as I was leaving — the whole room silent, watching me, incensed with my daring — an officer led the Damon out of the interrogation room and back towards his cell. Damon caught a glimpse of me and, for a moment, stopped walking.
The emotion I felt from him, drifting in my direction as I left, the last emotion from the precinct, was his hopeless want. To him, in that moment, I seemed vital, alive, and impossibly sexy. He didn't resent me being here; he didn't have the energy to resent me and hate me anymore. All he was left with was that old, awful want that had so tormented him. I was the thing he couldn't resist, the habit he couldn't kick, as much as he wished he could.
Well, I'm not yours anymore, buddy boy, so dream and toss and turn and feel guilty about whatever you're hiding, because I just don't care anymore.
I don't care.
#
I was too mad to go to a hotel, or fly back home, or do anything but hop into the first cab I could find and head to Klub F.U., my favorite place in the city for dancing. I needed to work off some of this steam.
As soon as I got there, paid the cover, and slipped inside, I took over the dance floor. Not to brag, but I'm a pretty good dancer. Right now, I was angry-dancing, throwing myself into the music and working off some of my mad.
I danced as hard and as well as I could, and at last, I started to feel a little more human. The concentration and energy required were just what I needed to get rid of the restless, awful feeling of being trapped.
Here, the emotions were far from negative. I was able to feed off the pleasant feelings of people having a night out. Most of them were here to enjoy themselves, and most of them were doing a good job of it.
I was also a center of attention, as more than one person either wanted to watch me dance or wanted to dance with me. I liked that; I always had. It was enjoyable for me.
For the first time, I wondered if even that had something to do with my talent. The negatives of being in a classroom setting or any other place where you were supposed to be still and quiet were very hard for me to navigate. Every day in school had been like purgatory.
Was part of it not just my ADHD tendencies, but also the very nature of my talent? I couldn't get away from the negative, oppressive atmosphere — and I felt it more than other people did — so I'd tried to change it by acting out.
Let's face it, even if a teacher ends up hating you, the mood of the room is usually lightened quite a bit by one student acting out. It pulls the attention off of other kids, for one thing. It gives restless energy an outlet, and sometimes provides a laugh. I'd probably been feeding off that attention and laughter to feel less horrible in a stifling, negative room full of bored and hostile kids. I'd probably been doing it for far longer than I'd had any idea I might be different from the other kids.
When I got older, it was the same way with clubbing. I was attractive and I knew it, because I could feel the admiration reflected back at me. I liked dancing and dressing up (or down) and being the cute, hot guy everyone admired. It made me feel better about myself, and provided instant relief from job and life stress. Also, it was okay to move — it was good to move. Restless energy was a gift on the dance floor, because it meant you could keep going and going, being creative and expressive with your body, dancing on into the wee hours.
Tonight was full of revelations. I wondered if the captain was furious at me or if he'd be over it by the morning. I wondered what the precinct was talking about now that I'd gone. I wondered, very briefly, what it would be like if Damon was dancing here with me, instead of in a jail cell and not even willing to accept the fact that he found me attractive.
He was a mess, and clearly involved in something bad, if he wasn't telling the captain the whole truth about what he suspected or knew.
He was holding out on a murder investigation; he was homophobic and dangerous — and I still couldn't hate him. He hated himself enough for all of us.
I was still thinking about him sadly when another man stepped in to dance with me, touching my side with the easy intimacy we'd once shared. I blinked into Angel's dark, sweet eyes, still familiar even after a long time apart.
He'd broken my heart, and he wasn't anywhere near as unpleasant as Damon. He'd just been scared of my talent, and hadn't wanted to see me anymore.
Gorgeous Angel, with his uncomplicated love of sex and time spent with me, and the sweet, honest nature that was as much a part of him as breathing. He looked into my face now as if he was checking to see if I was all right. We'd never talked much while we were dating — or whatever it had been — but we'd both preferred it that way. We'd communicated with a look, a touch, a smile — not raking our souls over the coals with endless words and rehashing. Yeah, we probably both had some painful things in our past. All the more reason to enjoy and relish the present.
Now he was asking me if I was okay. If he'd asked me that a while ago, I'd have wanted to tell him, "No, because you broke my heart."
But I had Ellery now; the pain had eased a great deal. I didn't think about Angel with the sharp pang of hurt that I'd had for a long time. Now he was a somewhat bittersweet, sad memory.
So I gave him a smile. "Just thinking." I pulled him closer into the dance, relishing this moment. We were both good dancers, short, lithe, and of muscular build. We matched pretty nicely and looked great together. I enjoyed the feel of everyone watching.
When the song ended, he touched my arm and nodded to a booth. I followed him. I could feel concern rolling off him, and I waited to hear what he was worried about.
"You looked so sad," he said, searching my face again. "Are you sure you're okay? I didn't see you here. I worried."
Oh, Angel. No, I didn't do something stupid just because you broke up with me.
I put a hand impulsively over his wrist and squeezed gently. "No, it's work stuff. And I really was thinking. I have a good job now, and things are going well. I'm doing fine. How are you?"
He didn't quite look like he believed me, but he let me change the subject. He shrugged. "Work is work — when it's there, you're too busy, but when it's gone, you miss it."
"Did something happen?"
"The landscaping company let me go." He shrugged, trying to be philosophical. "Once the construction season starts, I'll be okay. There's always jobs then. It's these winter months that are hard."
I couldn't tell from looking at him, or feel any surface emotions, if he was struggling or not, but I had the feeling it would take almost starving to death before he felt he was in any real hardship. Angel had a great deal of toughness beneath his gentle nature. He wasn't easily swayed, and didn't easily give in. Challenges were a part of life for him, but it was still something he mostly enjoyed. While he could eat, sleep, laugh, and dance, life was good — even if he was almost broke and trying to make every penny stretch.
"You need a loan? I'm doing pretty well in the new job. It wouldn't be a hardship."
He hesitated. "Ah, no. No. It's good to see you, though. I
'm glad." He touched my arm again and smiled sadly. "I'm sorry, too. For being frightened of you."
Typical Angel — when he did speak, it was always honest.
I shrugged, not wanting to talk about it. "I think I'm going to dance some more. It was good seeing you."
"Yes. You also." He drank me in with his eyes while I headed back out.
Should I have asked him if he wanted to eat or something? But I didn't want to talk about old times; I wanted to dance. All the same, I didn't like to think of him struggling financially. Angel was one of the hardest-working guys I'd ever met, but he came from a poor family who couldn't help him out much, even if they had wanted to, now that he was out.
He hadn't had a lot of breaks in life, aside from having a lovely personality and being one of the most gorgeous men I'd ever met. With his looks, he wouldn't have any trouble getting a job in the adult film industry. And he loved sex. Maybe he'd find a job there.
But I didn't want him to. Not, I hoped, from any weird, entitled jealousy, but because I'd hate for that gorgeous, sensual man to have to view his body as a commodity for survival. He was so wonderful the way he was, free and honest. To take something he loved and make it into an act, a thing to do for money, would be repugnant. At least to me, someone who'd known and loved him when he was still so fresh and honest and lovely.
I'd find a way to get him some money to tide him over, I decided. No way was my Angel — even though he wasn't mine anymore, maybe never had been mine to begin with — going to suffer while I had more than enough.
#
When I was ready to go, I took a cab to the nearest hotel, got a room, and took a hot, steamy shower. It had been a long time since I'd jacked off in the shower. I'd gotten spoiled, spending so much time with Ellery. He was a great boyfriend, and we had a lot of sex. When I had to be away from him, working with Kev, I was often in contact with him anyway. Phone sex and Skype sex tided us over, if we weren't both too tired to bother.
But tonight I let the feelings all come out in the shower, like the old days. I didn't want intimacy, I didn't want comfort. I wanted the hard, hot relief of jacking off almost painfully under the water, taking away more of my tension. The lust from the crowd, the jostling feelings of want and need that had reached me at the club — some aimed at me, plenty that weren't — affected me as well.
At last I was done, and sore and wrung out, and standing panting under the hot shower, wanting it to loosen my sore muscles. I'd danced hard, and more than that, I'd been wound tight with tension all day. It felt good to finally be too tired to think much.
And now I did want Ellery. I missed him, his gentle comfort. He wouldn't have made me talk about today. He'd have taken one look at my face, if he was here, and given me a cuddle and something nice to eat or drink. We'd have watched something on TV, and if I wanted to complain, he'd listen, but he'd be just as happy holding on to me, gently rubbing my back.
Ellery was one man I was never ashamed to take comfort from. He was so good at giving it and accepting it without shame. It made me feel safe with him.
But I still wasn't good at talking about things that were bothering me, and I didn't expect that was ever going to change. So when I checked my phone, it was with reluctance and no plans to call anyone back.
Sure enough, there were four missed calls. The first two were from the captain, the third from a number I didn't know, and the fourth was Ellery.
Ell.
I wanted him so badly now. As I stumbled into bed, knowing I'd be able to sleep well because I was so exhausted, but also feeling a loneliness that was almost knife-sharp and terribly painful, I pressed the button to return his call. I couldn't help it; I needed my Ell.
I felt weak for needing him, but really, wasn't it pretty normal? We were boyfriends, committed lovers, and were hoping — even planning — to spend the rest of our lives together. I was supposed to miss him, wasn't I?
"Peter?" asked Ell's voice at the other end of the line. He sounded worried.
"That's me. How are you, Ell?" I sounded lonely and sad even to my own ears.
"I don't like you being there," he admitted. "I get worried. That place brings you so low."
"It does," I agreed. "But how do you know?"
"Every time you talk about it, your face . . ." His voice trailed off. "I worry," he said humbly.
"I saw my ex today," I said.
"Damon?" He sounded totally confused by that, that I would consider the man an ex.
"No, it was Angel. Did I tell you about Angel?" I hadn't. Not really. "He's a nice guy, but it didn't work out." There was no need to share that it was my ability that had turned him against me. That he'd felt like I was a monster for knowing so much about people.
Ellery said nothing.
"Anyway, I saw him today. I went dancing. I think he needs money, although he'd never admit it, I'm sure." I sighed. "Maybe because I have money now, I think I can solve everything with it. It wasn't fun today. I had to get out and dance. I could only help so much, and they're all the same as they used to be, judging me and looking down on me, expecting more than I can do or give."
I sighed. I really had been feeling crappy because of it, and Ellery was right: I'd been deeply unhappy working at the precinct.
"Are you getting depressed or . . . anything?" asked Ellery cautiously. "Because that would certainly be enough of a reason to come home early. You could contact the ESRB and let them know you've done what you can."
I thought about it. "I don't want to wimp out. I think I can stand it for one more day."
"Okay," said Ellery, his voice sounding very soft and tenuous over the distance between us. I wished we were closer, so I could tell how he was feeling. He sounded sad — almost resigned. "Do you, um . . . Would you—"
"What? Go ahead."
"Want me to fly down to join you?"
I thought about it. "Dunno. It's a big effort for a little time. I'll be home soon, anyway."
"I'd like to help," he said quietly.
"Do you think you could?" What good would he be in a police station?
He said nothing.
"Ell? Did you mean about the case?"
"Oh. No. I meant, help you. Just . . . support you, the way you always do for me." He sounded like he was coming down with a cold or something. He sniffed. "Can I do that? Will you let me do that?"
Now I felt flattered, awed, and lucky. "If you're sure you're okay with it, then yes, I'd love to have you here. It's been difficult. I really miss you tonight."
"Oh. Good."
"Good?! Hmph!"
He laughed awkwardly, a quiet, sweet little sound. I loved his laugh, in all its incarnations. "You know what I mean. If you weren't missing me — if you were regretting that other guy, Angel, or someone else."
"No," I said quietly. At that moment I felt very close to him, even though we were so far apart. "I told you. I love you. Ell, I've had a lot of boyfriends, and I won't apologize for that. But I'm with you — I love you. I'm glad you want me."
"I do." He sounded like he was breathing hard, trying to control some strong emotion. "Oh, sweetheart, I do. Please come back to me, okay?"
That again? My heart sank.
"Ell, I'm not leaving. I'm not going anywhere. And if I disappear sometime, it's a pretty good sign I'm in trouble, so please don't decide I've gone because I want to go."
That scared me, sometimes. In one of his visions, I hadn't been there and he'd been wishing I'd come back. I didn't think I'd ever leave on purpose, so I was kind of scared about being kidnapped or something.
I hadn't shared that worry with him. I didn't like taking it all so seriously, and I certainly didn't like letting him know one of his visions had scared me.
"I'm getting on the next flight," said Ellery firmly — very firmly for him. He was usually quiet and tended to go along and not make waves. "The very next flight. I miss you and I love you, and I won't make you face the precinct alone ever again."
#
Ellery was as good as his word.
I couldn't get over my sweet, shy, slightly fragile boyfriend rushing to my rescue, but that's what he did. I'd told him where I was staying before we said our goodbyes, and in the morning, there he was, knocking at my door, rousing me out of sleep.
How had he possibly gotten here so quickly? The man was like magic sometimes.
When I opened the door in the middle of all that persistent knocking, there he stood, looking slightly rumpled but large as life. I was in a half-open bathrobe, yawning my head off, my hair a total wreck. Still sleepy and half-thinking it was a dream, I opened my arms to him and he embraced me tightly. I breathed in the smell of him, wonderful even though he'd probably been on a plane all night.
"Did you get any sleep?" I mumbled against his soft, flyaway hair. I could eat him up right now.
"That doesn't matter." His voice was husky, and he hugged me like he would never let go.
We shuffled away from the door, still holding on to each other, and he kicked it shut with one foot. "Mm." He nestled against me, and I held him tightly, rejoicing in the comforting togetherness, the feel of his strong, slim body against mine, the unselfconscious way he felt about me, and the fierce river of love I could feel from him, almost too much to handle.
"Mm. I missed you."
"I missed you."
We were very emotional. We also had sex, a comfortable, sleepy sort of sex, and then showered together, and ordered the most expensive things off the room service menu.
Ellery actually had a lot to say about my situation, after I had shared what was happening.
"I think you can offer to stay another day, but only if they give you breaks. You know you need breaks. Kevin's really good about that, and he doesn't even ask you to be in such angry and stressful situations." He crunched a piece of jelly toast decisively.
I was about to agree when he added, "And I want to be there."
"No, that—" I looked at him, surprised. He met my gaze steadily, and his emotions told me he meant it — even knowing it would probably be too difficult for him to handle.
SURE (Men of the ESRB Book 3) Page 5