Love Can't Conquer

by Kim Fielding

  Jeremy hissed. “That’s young.”

  “I know. And the guy…. Sometimes I hung out at that café alongside the highway. Remember the place?” The Burger Hut. A very greasy greasy spoon. “I’d bum cigarettes off people or, if they looked likely, see if they had any weed to sell me. One day this guy showed me some pills and some bud, said I could have them if I bent over for him. I figured it was worth it.”

  There. Now that was out in the open. Qay hesitated to even look at Jeremy, but when he finally dared, he saw compassion and sadness, not disgust. “Four dates,” Jeremy announced. “And it will be like a first time for us both, okay?”

  Qay managed a weak laugh. “Okay. It’s already been a long time for me.” As in nearly seven years. Jesus, seven years with no human contact, not even the fast, impersonal kind.

  “Good. So we’ll do something Saturday after you get off work, and then Sunday makes our fourth. And you don’t have to get up early on Mondays.”

  “You do.”

  Jeremy winked. “I’ll take a vacation day.”

  Four dates. Qay could do that.

  Chapter Fourteen

  A WISE man would have spent the next several days worrying about Ryan Davis and his possibly evil plans, but Jeremy wasn’t especially wise. He thought instead about Qay. Oh, he did other things too. He park-rangered as diligently as ever. He ran before work and exercised in the hotel fitness center. He paid a quick visit to Patty’s Place—technically to discuss the summer work program, but covertly to check on Toad, who was doing well. Twice Jeremy thought he saw a gray Toyota tailing him—once when he was running and once while he drove. He caught the plate number the second time and called it in to Frankl. He stopped by his loft frequently to make sure repairs were on track. He was getting tired of hotel living.

  But mostly he thought about Qay.

  Sometimes those thoughts were dirty. He imagined Qay naked, fantasized about what they might do together after their fourth date, and wondered what kinds of noises Qay might make during lovemaking. God, it had been so long since Jeremy had enjoyed more than a casual hookup. He wanted to bed down with someone he cared about and luxuriate in the touch of skin. He longed for more than the usual push and pull. He needed tenderness, affection, familiarity. When Jeremy had these kinds of thoughts, he masturbated. He hadn’t yanked his crank so much since he was a teen.

  Sex wasn’t the only thing on his mind. As he worked out in the fitness room and went about his workday routine, he considered Qay’s reaction during the meeting with Frankl. One minute Qay had seemed calm, if unhappy, and the next he was rushing for the door. By the time Jeremy caught up to him, Qay was paper-pale and looked as though he was going to vomit. Jeremy hadn’t known what to do for him, and Jeremy had felt so terrible he nearly panicked as well. In the end, though, his presence alone seemed to help settle Qay. A relief for Jeremy, but also sobering. How much could he really do to help Qay, especially with his own life in shambles?

  The third matter haunting his thoughts was an amalgam of the other two. He lusted after Qay—that was reasonable enough—but he’d lusted after plenty of men before. This was different. He hadn’t fallen in love often, but when he did, he fell fast and hard. And now, at the very least, his feet were teetering on the brink. Absurd, considering he and Qay hardly knew each other, but since when did love make sense? Jeremy had taken anatomy classes in college. He’d seen the inner workings of a human heart, yet he still didn’t understand how the heart really worked. At least when it came to love.

  On Thursday afternoon the week before Thanksgiving, he patrolled some of the parks downtown. In his experience, life became more difficult for many people as the holidays loomed. Homeless people suffered with worsening weather, the mentally ill struggled with additional stress, kids and parents resurrected old arguments or found new ones. Part of Jeremy’s job was to help stem the bits of these crises that spilled into the city’s public spaces. And he endeavored to do so despite his distraction. His mind kept wandering to Qay, wondering whether they could truly have a future together.

  He saw a young man hunched on a park bench, his knit cap pulled low. Maybe just a college student, or maybe not. Jeremy started toward him but stopped as his phone rang. He glanced at the display and sighed slightly with relief.

  “Nevin! How’re you doing?”

  “I’m doing fine, unlike you, asshole. I just heard about the shit you’ve been wading through. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because it’s not your jurisdiction.” Jeremy and Nevin had worked the same precinct when they were patrol officers. Nowadays Nevin was with the Family Services Division, mostly investigating cases involving abuse of elders and other vulnerable adults.

  “But I’m still your friend, dickwad. That makes it my jurisdiction. And fuck, man, I’m really sorry to hear about Donny. He was a bastard, but he didn’t deserve to end up dead. You sure as hell didn’t deserve to end up shouldering his crap.”

  Jeremy smiled. Nevin Ng was renowned in the bureau for his spectacularly foul language. “Thanks,” Jeremy said simply.

  “Did you run yet today?”

  “No. Did some weights.”

  “Pussy. Okay, you’re going to meet me at six and I’m going to run your ass off.”

  “But—”

  “Six. Where’re you staying?”

  Jeremy sighed as he gave in to the inevitable. “You’re the detective. Shouldn’t you be able to figure that out yourself?”

  “Well, I could track you down now and beat it out of you, but then you’d be too fucked up to run. Where, Germy?” Nevin was the only person on the planet who could get away with that hated old nickname, and that was only because the alternatives were worse.

  “Marriott by the river.”

  “Well, la-di-dah and fuck me sideways. See you there at six.” Nevin disconnected the call.

  Shaking his head fondly, Jeremy continued walking toward the kid.

  THERE WASN’T much point in showering before a run, so after dropping off the park kid in Beaverton—one of the kid’s friends had offered him a warm place to crash—Jeremy hurried back to the hotel and changed into sweats. No point eating now either; he’d catch something later. A few minutes after six, he was standing outside the lobby and bouncing on his toes when Nevin appeared.

  Ten years younger than Jeremy, Nevin was a small man, his compact body coiled like a tightly wound spring. He’d grown up in some kind of hellish environment he refused to talk about, he could outfight much larger men, and he latched on to cases as doggedly as a pit bull. He had a famously active libido and would screw any man or woman who was willing and able. He was also unfailingly gentle and caring to people who needed it the most, especially the elderly and other vulnerable victims of crime. He and Jeremy got together every few weeks, sometimes with other guys for beers and a basketball game, sometimes just the two of them at the gym or out for a run.

  Nevin jogged up to Jeremy and slugged him in the bicep. “C’mon, princess. I’ve already got a half mile on you.” Without waiting for a reply, he took off.

  Even though Jeremy was nearly a foot taller and much heavier, they made surprisingly good running partners. Jeremy’s strides were longer, but Nevin had more zoom. They jogged side by side on the darkened sidewalks, sometimes separating to avoid pedestrians. They ran up Waterfront Park and past Union Station, then through the worn streets in the industrial zone near Qay’s window factory. Jeremy was dripping sweat and breathing hard as they raced through Northwest Portland to the edge of the West Hills, but they stayed in the flat area and came back through downtown, ending on the sidewalk outside the hotel.

  “Wuss,” Nevin said as Jeremy bent, clutching his knees and gasping. “That wasn’t even five miles.”

  “You’re out of breath too,” Jeremy wheezed.

  “Bullshit. I’m just pretending so you don’t feel bad, old man.” Nevin grinned and leaned against the wall of the hotel.

  “You’re such a giver.”


  “Damned right.”

  After a few minutes, Jeremy was able to stand upright again. He grinned crookedly at Nevin. “You always bring a ray of sunshine into my dreary day.”

  Nevin could be adorable when he tried, like right now. “You are all lucky the gods saw fit to grace you with my presence.” He bowed slightly. But then his gaze caught something toward the street and the smile slipped from his face. “Did you notice—”

  “That gray Toyota? Yep. I was a cop too, you know.”

  “He’s been following us since—”

  “Since we began. I know. I saw him the other day too. He’s not especially sneaky.”

  Nevin took a few angry steps toward the street, then spun and marched back. “Well? What are you going to do about it?”

  “What can I do? He’s not breaking any laws.”

  “You stupid shit! He’s probably—”

  “He probably has something to do with the Donny mess. I know.” Jeremy let out a long breath. “But what good is it going to do anyone if I confront him or call Frankl? I know he’s there, and I’m being careful. They’re not going to mow me down in the street with a machine gun or anything. They want information, not another corpse.”

  Nevin narrowed his eyes and kicked the wall. “Douche bags. I could go get my piece and—”

  “And that would solve everything, Nev.”

  Another kick to the wall, this one hard enough to make Jeremy wince. “Goddamn motherfucking cocksucking sons of whores.”

  To be honest, Jeremy had been slightly concerned about the car tailing him. But he wasn’t truly alarmed, and Nevin’s worry on his behalf was sweet, if expletive-filled.

  Jeremy walked over and settled his hand on Nevin’s bony shoulder. “Thanks for the run. Join me at Rhoda’s next week?” If Nevin had any family, he never mentioned them. He’d joined Jeremy at Thanksgiving celebrations before, although not every year.

  “Nah. I, uh, got plans.”

  “Don’t tell me you have to work. Avoiding crappy shifts is supposed to be one of the benefits of moving off patrol.”

  Nevin surprised the hell out of him by looking embarrassed. “I’m going somewhere.”

  “Somewhere?”

  “Dinner.” When Jeremy just waited, eyebrows raised, Nevin snarled. “Nosy fucker, aren’t you? I’m invited to dinner at a fancyass house in the hills. I have to wear a fucking suit. And then I have to pretend like I’m goddamn civilized because I’m meeting the parents. All right? Satisfied now, asshole?”

  Delighted, Jeremy grinned. “Whose parents?”

  “This… this guy. Colin. He’s fruity as a nutcake and he prances around with his twatty graduate degree and his fancy-schmancy everything, and the only reason I can stand to be near him is he’s got a spectacular ass and he’s hung like goddamn Pegasus.” He glanced up at Jeremy, scowled, and looked away. “And he’s also a pretty good guy,” he muttered.

  To the best of Jeremy’s knowledge, Nevin had never reached the parent-meeting stage with anyone. “Way to go, Nev. Mazel tov.”

  “Bitch.” Then a wicked grin appeared on Nevin’s face. “But what’s this I heard about you and some dude?”

  Police officers gossiped worse than teenage girls, so Jeremy wasn’t surprised rumors about Qay had reached Nevin. “Some dude,” he affirmed. “It’s speculative at this point, but with a real likelihood of a positive outcome.”

  Nevin punched him in the chest, almost hard enough to make Jeremy oof. “Glad you’re getting some, Sasquatch. You’ve been needing to get laid for a good long time.”

  Jeremy opted not to tell him about the four-date rule.

  Although Jeremy invited him for dinner that night, Nevin declined. Well, he actually said, “Nope. Sorry, farmboy. Colin’s got plans and he’ll bust my balls if I’m late.”

  “I wouldn’t want your balls busted.”

  And then, for just a brief moment, Nevin let his inner self peek through, the kind man who made sure old ladies were safe and who would sit for hours playing Go Fish with learning-disabled young people. “You be careful, Germy Cox. Watch out for the bad guys. You deserve that positive outcome, you know?”

  Knowing it was best not to draw the thing out, Jeremy nodded. “Good luck with Colin’s ’rents. Knock ’em dead.” He bopped Nevin’s bicep—but lightly—and turned toward the hotel entrance, already looking forward to a hot shower and room service.

  Chapter Fifteen

  SATURDAY’S DATE was relaxed and easy. Jeremy parked the dictatormobile in front of Qay’s house—having miraculously found a parking spot there—and they walked over to P-Town for a quick hello to Rhoda. They continued strolling up to Hawthorne, then paused in front of the Bagdad Theater. “Will this be okay for you?” Jeremy asked, looking worried. The Bagdad showed movies and served food, but it was also a pub.

  “I can go into places that serve alcohol,” Qay said patiently. “We’ve been in some already, remember?”

  “Yeah, of course. But none of them were quite so aggressively boozy.”

  “Thanks for the concern, but I’m good. I’m not craving.” Which was true, to a point. Right now in Jeremy’s presence, Qay had no desire to use. But all week he’d been itchy and restless, jonesing worse than he had in years. He’d even gone to a Narcotics Anonymous meeting after work on Friday, something he hadn’t felt the need to do in a long while. Not for the first time, he regretted that his history of addiction precluded Xanax or other antianxiety meds. But it would do no good to pick up a new habit.

  Looking uncertain, Jeremy squinted. “I don’t want to tease you. Tempt you. Except with me, that is.” He tried an eyebrow waggle.

  But Qay was slightly pissed off. “I won’t dive headfirst into the stout, I promise you. Besides, I’m responsible for whatever choices I make—not you.”

  “Okay. You’re right.”

  Once they got inside, Qay honestly had no interest in drinking. Drugs had always been his worst weakness, not alcohol. Thanks, Mom. He was content to follow Jeremy through the ornately themed lobby to the snack counter, where they bought pizza, popcorn, and soft drinks. Then they continued into the theater itself. Comfy chairs, Qay was pleased to note. The movie started almost immediately.

  The film was a spy thing. Fun, but not great. The lead actor was handsome. The best part, though, was holding hands with Jeremy in the dark, passing the popcorn back and forth, sometimes making out a little during the slow parts. It was as if they were high school kids again, although two boys would never have gone out so openly in Bailey Springs in the 1980s. Snuggling against Jeremy, Qay felt young for the first time in… possibly ever.

  Even as the movie rolled, Jeremy ran popcorny fingers through Qay’s hair and hummed inaudibly to himself—Qay could feel his chest rumbling.

  Afterward they strolled down Hawthorne, chatting contentedly about nothing in particular. Sometimes they paused to peer into shop windows, and sometimes they read restaurant menus and planned future outings. The weirdest part was that Qay felt a part of something. Part of a pair, part of a community. That was new.

  “Four dates, huh?” Jeremy said when they’d returned to Qay’s house. They were leaning against Jeremy’s SUV, neither of them eager to part.

  “That’s less than twenty-four hours away.”

  “I might be able to last that long. Especially if we start the date a little earlier. You up for another hike? This one closer to home.”

  Qay had never been a nature lover, but he’d really enjoyed their visit to the falls. Of course the main attraction had been Jeremy, so animated as he pointed out mushrooms and ferns and slugs. “I’d like that,” Qay said. “And then can we go on a quest?”

  “That sounds like an adventure. What are we questing for?”

  “My contribution to Thanksgiving.”

  “Ah. I think we can manage that.” Then Jeremy ducked his head shyly, which was an interesting look on such a big, confident man. “Hey, Qay?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Since we
’re waiting for the fourth date and all, I want tomorrow to be worth the wait. Not a… quick thing, you know?”

  Qay laughed uncomfortably. “I’ve been flying solo for a long, long time. I don’t think I’m going to be able to avoid quick.”

  “That’ll be two of us. But there’s nothing stopping us from a second act. I want all night. A sleepover.”

  With a shiver not attributable to the night chill, Qay nodded.

  Obviously pleased, Jeremy crossed his arms and bumped his shoulder against Qay’s. “I’d like to spend tomorrow night at your place. Please.”

  “But you have that fancy hotel room, and my apartment’s—”

  “Screw the hotel room. It’s sterile. Your place may not be the Ritz, but it’s a home. That’s what I want for our first time.”

  He looked so damned earnest that Qay shivered again, then leaned against him for warmth. “My place it is.”

  They finished the evening with a scorching kiss that wasn’t quite sex but sure as hell came close. Qay walked to his door with his jeans uncomfortably tight, swollen lips tingling, and Jeremy’s hungry gaze nearly devouring him.

  He needed a cold shower.

  QAY SPENT most of Sunday morning cleaning his apartment. It was cluttered but not truly dirty, and he wasn’t worried that Jeremy would call things off over a few dust bunnies. But he was jittery, and scrubbing the place down kept his twitchy muscles occupied. Three separate times he had to collapse onto the couch, drop his head to his knees, and practice the deep breathing exercises his last shrink had taught him.

  A shrink. Fuck. He hadn’t seen one in a while. He was fairly sure that the insurance policy from his employer would pay for one, but even if the copay didn’t break him, Qay would have to find a good therapist. He’d also have to find time to get there, which was a challenge without a car and with work and school. And he wasn’t confident that going through all those hassles would help him. He’d seen plenty of counselors and psychologists and psychiatrists. He’d memorized their schtick long ago, so he could do the exercises and recite his mantras on his own. Hadn’t he gotten this far by himself? He didn’t need some dude with a string of letters after his name telling him what to do.