by Matthew Lang
“So you do like beer?”
“Yes, but I might not have,” Rook said archly.
“Got any plans for tomorrow?” Leon asked as they watched Hugh Laurie bicker with Lisa Edelstein over paperwork.
“Going to court,” Rook said. “Can we not talk about it?”
“Okay. Are you going to need help tomorrow?”
“No, I’ll be fine,” Rook said, not taking his eyes from the screen.
“Are you sure? Your cast—”
“I’ll be fine, Leon,” Rook said, reaching out and catching Leon in a sideways hug. “Thank you for the offer though, and if I need a hand, I’ll give you a call.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
WHEN Leon pulled up into his driveway, the sun had set and his house was cast in deep shadows from the street light on the corner. As he headed up to the door, a shadow on his front porch moved.
“Warrick!”
“Hi, Leon.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Well, you won’t answer my calls, so….” Warrick shrugged and let the sentence trail off into the expectant silence.
“I thought that was a hint in and of itself,” Leon said.
“Yeah, well, I happen to think you’re worth the effort.”
“Warrick, look. I like you, but I’m not here for your benefit,” Leon said, folding his arms across his chest.
“I know.”
“And I’m not going to be at your beck and call or stop being friends with someone just because you say so.”
“I know.”
“And if I want to flirt with someone else, then I’ll damn well do that too.”
“I know,” Warrick said again. “Wait—what? Are you saying you want a… an open relationship?”
Leon shrugged. “I don’t know. I might. What if I did?”
Warrick’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he answered. “I would hope that you’d discuss it with me if that’s what you wanted—assuming that I was involved.”
“Right,” Leon said. “Then why can’t you do the same for me?”
“Because I don’t want an open relationship,” Warrick said, stepping in closer. “I just want you.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“I know. I just—I’m scared, Leon,” Warrick said, moving close enough that Leon could feel the heat from his body. “I’m scared that if I kiss you, I won’t stop; if someone sees, I won’t care, and that I could lose my job; or if someone sees and follows you and—I don’t want it to be you lying in a hospital bed when I come into work.”
“Why is it me that they’re following in this scenario and not you?” Leon asked, although even as he said it, he knew how foolish that sounded.
“I’m always with me, and I can take care of myself.” Warrick said with a shrug. “The moment you leave my sight, I don’t know where you are, and then I worry. I’m sorry. I know it’s stupid, but I can’t help it.”
“That’s…,” Leon sighed. “You know, that’s kinda sweet.”
A small smile ghosted across Warrick’s lips. “Forgive me?”
Leon nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Later he could never say who had moved first, but Warrick’s arms were wrapped around him, holding him against the firm chest he only now could admit he had missed. Then Warrick lifted Leon’s chin and gently pushed their lips together, and all the loss and hurt melted into the tender warmth of their kiss.
“You coming in?” Leon asked softly when they finally broke for air.
Warrick leaned forward until their foreheads were touching. “If it’s not too inconvenient.”
Leon smiled and went in for another kiss. “Mr. Kwok, it is not an inconvenience at all.”
Their lovemaking that night was slow and gentle, each man intent on reconnecting rather than achieving release. By the time Leon felt Warrick shudder inside him, triggering his own orgasm, the rosellas were already starting the morning chorus in the trees outside Leon’s window. Pausing for only the briefest of cleanups, the lovers crawled back into Leon’s bed, not bothering to draw the blankets over themselves in the summer heat. Wrapped in each other’s arms, they slept clear through to the afternoon, roused only briefly by Warrick’s phone alarm, prompting him to call in sick.
“Won’t you get into trouble for that?” Leon asked sleepily.
“Don’t care,” Warrick mumbled, curling back around his lover’s form. “Not going in.”
When their empty stomachs finally roused them from slumber, Warrick complained bitterly about the state of Leon’s fridge, and they settled for ordering pizza, which arrived just before Krissy, who helped herself to a slice after grilling them about their reconnection.
“You do not want details,” Leon said, helping himself to a slice of the meat-lover’s pizza.
“Well, not all the details,” Warrick said, licking his fingers clean of sauce. “Let’s just say I gave Leon puppy-dog eyes until he agreed to give me another chance.”
“Puppy-dog eyes? Don’t you mean you just wrapped your arms around me and wouldn’t let go until I said ‘uncle’?”
“That was after,” Warrick said, looking away with a sly grin. “And I didn’t make you say ‘uncle’.”
“Okay boys, enough with the sharing,” Krissy said, helping herself to the last piece of Margherita pizza. “New topic, and not the fact that you’ve been holding hands since I got here.”
“How’s the internship going?” Warrick asked. “Leon says you’re hardly ever around these days.”
“I like it,” Krissy said. “The cases are interesting, if sometimes mired in paperwork. And I don’t get to work on the juicy one either.”
“Juicy?”
“Rook’s case. It’s odd it’s gone to trial so quickly, but—”
“Speak of the devil,” Leon said, as his phone trilled.
“You should really change that ringtone,” Krissy said. “It’s so boring.”
“Shut up,” Leon said as he grabbed for his phone, bringing it up to his ear. “Hey, Rook, how’d it go?”
“It didn’t,” Rook said, and Leon could hear him moving around on one crutch before sitting down on something soft. “I just found out they never got a DNA test from the suspects. Apparently the judge said the CCTV footage was ‘too grainy’ to warrant one, especially since I don’t remember being assaulted.”
“Seriously? That blows.”
“I know. I recognized one of them from the paper, though. Does the name Billy Fitzgerald ring any bells?”
“The mayor’s son?”
“The very same. Rising local rugby star interviewed last week in the Herald,” Rook said gloomily. “His lawyers are heaping obstacle after obstacle in our way, and I don’t know how much longer the state will fight on.”
“Huh,” Leon said. “Sorry, I didn’t realize.”
“Not your fault,” Rook said. “I just…. Do you know how long it took to get into a suit this morning?”
“You could have called for help.”
“Paul helped,” Rook said. “It’s just—I want things to go back to normal, you know?”
“Yeah,” Leon said, giving Warrick’s hand a squeeze.
“I just don’t remember what normal is. Look, I’m tired. I’m going to hit the sack. Thanks for chatting, man. And I’m sorry if I’m unloading on you.”
“It’s cool,” Leon said. “Fingers crossed for day two, right?”
“Yeah. Night, Leon.”
“Night, Rook.”
“Well that didn’t sound good,” Krissy said as Leon put down his phone.
“They never got DNA from the defendants,” Leon said, snuggling into Warrick’s embrace. “Apparently the judge ruled the CCTV footage wasn’t enough—too grainy. Something about Rook not remembering enough to justify it.”
“Rook doesn’t remember anything,” Warrick objected.
“What, so you like him now?” Leon asked.
“He’s your fri
end, right?”
“Yes.”
“And I don’t have any reason to be jealous, do I?”
“No.”
“Then I will keep my jealous impulses firmly in check,” Warrick said, kissing the side of Leon’s neck.
“You two are sickening,” Krissy said, reaching for the garlic bread. “I can’t believe—wait, CCTV footage was too grainy?”
“According to Rook,” Leon said.
“That’s ridiculous. He was assaulted outside a Cash Converters. They have good security cameras there. I’ve seen their footage on other cases. That stolen jewelry from the McMansion six months ago turned up pawned in—never mind, confidentiality and all that. That can’t be the real reason.”
Leon stared down at his and Warrick’s hands, interlacing their fingers together. “Rook said one of the defendants was Billy Fitzgerald.”
“William Fitzgerald, Jr.?” Warrick asked. “The mayor’s kid?”
“Kid? He’s not that much younger than we are,” Leon said.
“Doesn’t act it.”
Krissy twisted the foil of the remaining garlic bread, closing it back up. “I think I just lost my appetite,” she said. “It explains why everything on that case has moved so quickly—and why the judge refused to sign a warrant for Billy’s DNA.”
“You realize you’re accusing a judge of corruption,” Warrick said.
“Oh, right. Because that’s never happened before.”
Warrick sighed. “And Rook can’t even remember who he is, let alone what happened to him.”
“You know,” Leon said thoughtfully. “We might be able to help with that.”
SATURDAY afternoon found Leon pulling up to Rook’s flat and rapping on the door. Then he waited for several minutes and knocked again. “Come on, Rook, I know you’re in there.”
After a few more minutes, he heard the slow sound of a man on crutches coming toward the door. “Leon?”
“No, it’s Wonder Woman.”
When the door opened slightly and Rook peeked out, he was scruffy, unshaven, and Leon could see he wasn’t wearing a shirt.
“Wonder Woman has bigger tits than you do,” Rook said. “And she wears less clothing. Does everything you wear have a hood?”
“Not everything. Just most of it,” Leon said. “I like hoods. They make you look a little scarier at night, and if it’s cold, you can pull it around your neck a bit.”
“They make you look more scary at night?”
“Hey, I’m a little guy! I’ll take what I can get. You going to invite me in or what?”
“Sure, just—sure,” Rook said, opening the door further to allow Leon in—and showing Leon that all he was wearing was a pair of Aquaman boxers.
“No offense, but you look like shit,” Leon said as he stepped into the cool darkness of the hallway.
“Yeah,” Rook said, leaning on his crutch as he headed for the living room. “I was planning on getting drunk, but I’m out of beer as of last night and didn’t feel up to a trip to the bottle-o{17}.”
“Trial isn’t going well?”
Rook shook his head. “The thing that gets me are the looks Billy and his two friends keep shooting my way. It’s like they’re mocking me because they did it, and they know they’re going to get away with it. And the worst thing is I can’t remember it! And people keep saying that could be a good thing, but if I knew, I’d still be dealing with trauma, but I might get some closure. It’s like I’m being cheated out of something I need, but I can’t remember why I want or need it.”
“Rook—”
“Can we get beer?”
Leon smiled. “Sure, we can get a beer.”
“Thank you.”
“But not here,” Leon said. “We’re going out.”
“What?”
“The Queer Collective is having a Christmas dinner thing—we scored you a ticket.”
“Thanks, but I’ve accepted the fact that I’m straight, Leon,” Rook said, sitting down on his red couch. “I know the Queer Collective is meant to be a queer safe space. You know, away from the rest of straight society.”
“They opened it up this year,” Leon said, pushing his fringe back from his eyes. “And we’d all really like you to be there.”
“Oh,” Rook said. “Well, I’m honored, but I’m not really dressed for the occasion.”
Leon checked his watch. “We’ve got two hours. Plenty of time.” He stood and cut a dramatic pose. “To the bathroom!”
A faint smile tugged at Rook’s lips. “I take it you’re going to badger me until I give in and come?”
“Pretty much,” Leon said. “Do I win yet?”
Rook shook his head and slowly pulled himself to his feet. “I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed that I’m not dating you.”
“You can commiserate with Warrick later,” Leon said. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to tell you exactly how much grief you’re missing.”
“Warrick? You two back together?”
“Um, yeah.”
“Well, that’s great. I think. Is that great?”
Leon couldn’t help the self-satisfied smile that stole across his features. “So far, yeah.”
“Okay, I will keep all snarky comments to myself, then.”
“Very funny, mister,” Leon said. “Now march!”
Given the need to wrap Rook’s leg cast in a garbage bag to prevent the plaster from getting wet, it took a fair amount of time to get him presentable—and a baggy pair of light black slacks to cover up his cast. All in all, it took them the better part of their two hours to get to the Bar on the Hill{18}, where the dinner was taking place.
The Bar on the Hill was a fair bit more than just a bar. Officially known as the Hunter Union, most Novocastrians still called it “the Bar on the Hill,” although some liked to call it “the Ar on the Hill,” hearkening back to days when someone nicked off with the B. The building contained not only the aforementioned bar but also an auditorium that was the place for live music on campus. After pulling into the car park, Leon helped Rook up the stairs to the bar proper, where long tables with white tablecloths had been placed on the wooden parquet flooring, overseen by the giant TV screen that Leon had always thought was really a projector. The scrum in front of the bar was as dense as always, although Leon was able to catch Warrick’s eye, and he soon came over with three pots of beer.
“This place is packed,” Rook said as Leon ushered him in the front of the room.
“It’s an important event,” Warrick said with a shrug as he placed the beers down in front of them before leaning in to give Leon a quick kiss.
“It is?”
“Of course,” Warrick said, sitting down next to Leon. “End of exams, start of the holidays, a bit of Christmas cheer.”
Rook grunted. “Well, okay, I might be feeling a bit ‘bah humbug’ about all that—but thank you for the beer.”
Warrick winked. “There’s a tab.”
“Then I thank the Queer Collective. Although I’d prefer it if everyone stopped staring at me.”
“That’s not likely,” Leon said. “You’re sort of famous in this club, you know.”
“I am?” Rook asked as a slim, fair-haired man rose and tapped on his bottle of Smirnoff Ice with a spoon.
“Don’t look so surprised,” Leon murmured as the room slowly quieted down.
“Who’s he?” Rook hissed.
“Seth Francis. He’s the president of the Queer Collective.”
“Cute,” Rook said.
“What happened to you being straight?” Leon asked.
“I can be straight and think a guy’s cute,” Rook said, and Leon would have responded, but Seth was already clearing his throat to speak.
“Earlier this year, there was an attack on a student in town,” Seth began. “You all know him, and you know that he was injured defending the freedom of sexual expression—or perhaps even the existence of nonheterosexual people. You of course all know of whom I am speaking. So Travis R
ookford, we thank you.”
Here Seth paused until the applause died down.
“Those of you who have been following the news will also know that the trial hasn’t seen much justice so far, with the perpetrators getting a reprieve. Of course, despite this, we still want to thank you all for coming along. I know we did originally plan to have the proceeds of the night go toward covering Rook’s medical costs—”
“What?” Rook whispered.
“It’s a fund-raiser,” Leon whispered back.
“I got that bit,” Rook hissed. “Whose idea was this?”
Leon shrugged. “It was sort of a group decision.”
“—but I have it on good authority that Medicare is covering those, so instead we will be donating the funds to The Pinnacle Foundation in Rook’s name. And I’m happy to announce that we’ve raised just over two thousand dollars, which, to be fair, probably wouldn’t have gone too far in hospital,” Seth said, to the chuckles of more than a few guests.
Rook glanced between Leon and Warrick, his mouth slack. “You guys did all this for me?”
Warrick smiled. “Consider it a token of thanks for being awesome.”
Seth looked poised to continue speaking, but a commotion at the door made everyone turn as a curvaceous woman barged into the room in a stunning dress of electric blue.
“Put on the news!” the woman shouted, waving a matching blue silk clutch as she stormed through the tables.
“What?” Seth asked, momentarily nonplussed.
“The news. Turn on the TV. Now!”
Shrugging, Seth turned and raised a remote from the lectern, turning on the screen that normally played music videos and sporting matches. It took mere moments to find the channel showing the news and a few more to find the mute button.
“…appears to have been leaked onto the Internet and shows the mayor of Newcastle’s son and two unidentified men attacking a fourth man. Due to the graphic nature of the video, we can only show you these stills. We understand this video footage has been sent to the Attorney General’s office with a demand that the case be prosecuted as a hate crime, as well as accusations of corruption in the judicial system of regional New South Wales. The state government has pledged a full inquiry. So far, the mayor of Newcastle has been unavailable for comment.”