Transposition

by Gregory Ashe

  “Yeah?”

  “Jesus, he’s a glutton for compliments.”

  “Really good,” Nico said, ignoring Hazard. “Hot stuff. She’s going to fall for you hard.”

  Somers was beaming; it was infectious, which only made Hazard more irritated, and he grabbed Nico by the arm and hustled him towards the door.

  “Thanks,” Somers called after them.

  “Do not answer him.”

  Once again, Nico ignored Hazard. “See you there.”

  Only when they were riding down the elevator the car did Nico ask, “So who’s the girl? I’ve never seen him so nervous.”

  It was stupid. It was stupid and selfish and petty. Somers could date whoever he wanted. He could date anyone in the whole world, as far as Hazard was concerned. He could date a serial killer. He could date a fish-woman. He could date the woman who had broken his heart and kept him in limbo for years. Hazard tried to shove the thoughts away, and he didn’t like the surge of vicious satisfaction he felt as he answered.

  “His wife.”

  WAHREDUA WAS A MIDWESTERN COLLEGE TOWN, and like so many Midwestern college towns, it had experienced a genuine boom of culture and prosperity at the beginning of the twenty-first century. Moulin Vert was one sign of that prosperity: Wahredua’s finest French restaurant, with real candles and real crystal and real snooty waiters, as though they’d been shipped over special. At the door, Hazard helped Nico out of his coat and passed their garments to the coat check.

  As one of the black-uniformed staff led Hazard and Nico across the dining room, most of Moulin Vert’s patrons stopped to stare. In part, Hazard knew, they were interested by the appearance of a gay couple at one of Wahredua’s more conservative establishments. In part, too, they were interested in Emery Hazard, the only gay cop on the force, a local boy who had come home and who had made a name for himself by solving two sets of brutal and bizarre murders. A lot of it, though, had to do with the fact that Nico was just so pretty; straight or gay, every eye in the room paused and did a little private lusting over the Argentine boy.

  Their table stood at the back, with four seats and four places. As they sat, Nico said, “So they’re divorced, but they’re getting back together again?”

  “What does it matter?”

  “It doesn’t.”

  “All right.”

  “So if it doesn’t matter, why won’t you talk about it?”

  Hazard growled, barely managing to swallow the noise. “She never divorced him.”

  “You don’t like her.”

  “I haven’t seen her in fifteen years.”

  “You hate her.”

  “I don’t have any feelings for her one way or the other.”

  “That’s a lie.” Nico smiled to soften the words, and his hand slipped into Hazard’s. “What was she like in high school?”

  “Popular.”

  Nico’s smile broadened, and he squeezed Hazard’s hand.

  “I don’t know. She was . . . she had a difficult life. We never interacted much. She was very pretty and very popular. I was—” Hazard paused and shrugged.

  Nico squeezed his hand again. “You were the only gay boy in town.”

  Hazard touched the stem of his glass; the crystal was cold, and the cold ran straight up his arm, and it made him think of how cold it was outside, of how he didn’t want to be here, in this goddamn restaurant, and how he could drive home and tear that very expensive suit off of Nico piece by piece and spend the rest of the night making his boyfriend forget he’d ever heard of John-Henry Somerset.

  “She came from a bad family,” Hazard heard himself saying. “Her father was in prison for most of her life. Her mother, well, the rumor was that her mother worked as a prostitute.”

  “Did she?”

  “How the hell should I know? Kids are stupid. They’ll say anything, and they’ll say it twice as fast if it’s mean and if it hurts someone who’s better looking or more popular.”

  “They also say things that are true.” Nico wrinkled his nose, and his eyes roamed across Hazard’s face. “Your hair is longer.”

  “God damn it. It’s the exact same as always.”

  “No. It’s definitely longer.”

  At that moment, Somers came across the restaurant towards them with a woman on his arm. She was tall—not quite as tall as Somers, but tall enough that she probably wore flats more often than not. Her hair had changed since Hazard had last seen her; it was short and artfully curled, and it accented the delicate features of her face. Seen from a distance, there was something ethereal about her, in the pallor of her skin against the dark hair and dark dress, as though she were a spirit out of the past. Out of Hazard’s past, more precisely. One thing, though, hadn’t changed: Cora Malsho Somerset was still beautiful in a way that devastated Hazard. That beauty went through him like a bulldozer. Who in the hell could compete with that kind of beauty? Not Emery Hazard. Not that he even wanted to. Not even a little.

  They all stood up and shook hands and murmured polite greetings, and then they sat, and silence took over. Hazard knew that once he started looking at Somers, he would have a hard time stopping. Instead, he focused on a middle space between Cora and his partner. The silence stretched out. And out. And out.

  “God, I could use some wine,” Somers said.

  Cora looked away, as though embarrassed by the comment. No doubt she was; Somers had gone through a phase of serious drinking after she had kicked him out of the house. Even now, when their fights grew too serious, Somers plunged into a bottle as fast and as deep as he could. Hazard’s face heated. And a drunk Somers, it turned out, often had far too few inhibitions.

  Nico was the one who broke the tension with a laugh. “We could all use a drink.” He raised a hand, signaling their waiter, and glanced at Hazard.

  “Whatever you want,” Hazard said.

  “Emery pretends he doesn’t care,” Nico said, flashing a smile at Cora. Then he paused. “I know you.”

  “What?” Somers said.

  “What?” Hazard said.

  Cora’s refined features eased into a smile; it was like watching an iceberg melt. “We’ve never—”

  “No, I know you. You were at Fashion Week. At the Frenzy.”

  Cora gave a helpless shrug, glancing at, of all people, Hazard. “I was.”

  “You were amazing. I still can’t believe how you handled that old man.” Nico burst into a genuine laugh; his heart-stoppingly handsome face brightened. “God, weren’t you at Maggie Grober’s brunch?”

  A blush suffused Cora’s face. “Please don’t tell me you remember.”

  Nico, bursting into fresh laughter, elbowed Hazard. “She threw wine in Stefan’s face.”

  Cora held her napkin in front of her face.

  “Who the hell is Stefan?” Hazard asked.

  “Oh, you know. I was telling you about him and his partner, the ones with the two little dogs. Remember? How they walk them in that park we always drive by? God, you never listen. Anyway, Cora threw wine in his face.”

  Cora dropped the napkin; her face was flaming now. “He grabbed my—” She cast an embarrassed glance at, again, of all people, Hazard. “He grabbed me, and he was making this awful joke about filling out a dress. I wasn’t going to let him get away with that.” She laughed, and the sound wasn’t anything like what Hazard remembered from high school. This laugh was full-bodied, genuine, and it only made her blush deepen. Wiping her eyes, she said, “I never thought you’d remember me. I know who you are, of course. Everybody knows. But I never thought—I mean, I’m just there to help out.”

  Leaning in, Nico added in a mock whisper, “And to teach Stefan a lesson.”

  Again, Cora burst into laughter. As she wiped at her eyes, she spoke to Hazard for the first time in fifteen years. “Everyone knows Nico Flores. When John-Henry told me we were going on a double date, he mentioned Nico’s first name, but I never would have put it together.”

  “Everyone knows him, huh?” Hazard
raised an eyebrow at his boyfriend.

  Elbowing Hazard again, Nico turned his attention to Cora. “You’re friends with Moody, aren’t you? The two of you are always together. She’s vicious, isn’t she? I mean, very funny, but she cuts like a knife.”

  “You should have heard her when she saw Stefan at the Trustees’ Gala,” Cora said, muffling giggles with her napkin.

  At this point, Hazard leaned back in his chair. Somers, who was seated across from him, let out a breath. Nico and Cora didn’t notice; they were too wrapped up in their own conversation. From the sound of it, they shared a surprisingly wide circle of friends—most of whom Hazard would have sworn he had never heard of.

  “Do you think we can still get that wine?” Somers asked in a low voice.

  Hazard grunted.

  “It’s going pretty well, right?”

  Hazard grunted again.

  “Did you know they . . .”

  “Yeah, Somers. Of course I knew. I had magically figured out that they were best friends, I just decided not to tell you.”

  A moment passed, and Somers asked, “Who’s Moody?”

  “How the hell should I know?”

  “You need some wine.”

  That was starting to sound better and better. Hazard motioned over the waiter for the second time and ordered a bottle. The candlelight flashed against the bandage on Hazard’s hand, a shining reminder of Hazard’s most recent case. Together with Somers, he had been trapped at an estate just outside Wahredua. One murder had spiraled out into a series of deaths; Hazard had come close to dying himself after a brutal, physical confrontation. The worst of the bruises had healed, but the deep cut on his hand was still a painful scab.

  “How is it?” Somers asked, nodding at the bandage.

  “What did I tell you?”

  “You said that if I asked you about your hand one more time, you’d shove it down my throat.” Somers grinned. “But we’re at a very fancy dinner, and even a thug like you has some manners.”

  Hazard opened his mouth to tell Somers exactly what he could do with his manners, but Nico and Cora’s conversation caught his ear. Cora was speaking, her voice low, her hands wrapped together on the table, her eyes studying her hands.

  “—didn’t know Emery very well, of course, but that’s what—” She paused, as though suddenly aware of Hazard’s attention. Her eyes, dark and gleaming like polished obsidian, glanced towards him and then away. “I’m sorry. I—this is very awkward for me.”

  “Why?” Hazard asked. Then he grunted, biting back a swear as Somers kicked him in the shin. Hard. Somers jerked his head angrily, and Hazard forced his voice to a slightly warmer tone. Very slightly. “I mean, I don’t know why you should feel awkward.”

  Cora laughed, and this time it had none of its former humor. “That’s very kind of you, Emery. But you don’t have to pretend that I wasn’t an absolute bitch in high school.”

  Hazard stared at her. Everyone was waiting for him to respond; he could feel the anticipation. Nico leaned back in his seat, and his hand dropped under the table, his fingers lightly squeezing Hazard’s.

  “You weren’t a bitch,” Hazard finally said. “You were a teenager. We all were.” His voice turned dry. “Nobody should be held accountable for what they do between fourteen and twenty-one.”

  With another cold laugh, Cora sipped at her wine. When she spoke, her eyes were still locked on her pale hands. “The things I said about you, Emery—I’d understand if you never wanted to speak to me again. I told John-Henry this wasn’t a good idea.” She made as if to rise.

  Somers latched onto her arm, and he said, “Cora, you don’t know Emery. He’s not that kind of person. The things I did to him, the things I allowed to happen, Emery should have killed me.” A trace of Somers’s normal, shit-eating grin appeared. “Most days, he still wants to kill me, although maybe for different reasons. What I’m trying to is that he’s a good man. The best man I know. And I want you to know him too.”

  Something flashed in Cora’s face. Hazard wasn’t particularly good at reading other people’s emotions, but he thought he recognized this one: hope. The realization left him unnerved, as though he’d lost his footing in the conversation. Why the hell did she look like Somers had just tossed her a lifeline? Because she’d made a few nasty comments about Hazard in high school? Was she really the kind of person who carried that kind of guilt for fifteen years?

  They were waiting for Hazard to speak, he realized. His jaw felt rusty as he opened his mouth, and the words bounced off his teeth with tinny, hollow sounds. “I’m not a good man, but Somers is right about one thing: I’m done with that part of my life. Let’s leave the past in the past.” Hazard paused, fighting the selfish part of himself, the part that wanted Somers all to himself, the part that wanted him to snap at Cora with every cruel thought he’d ever had. Then, forcing the words out, he added, “I hope you’ll do the same.”

  Cora glanced at Somers and then at Hazard. She nodded slowly.

  Nico squeezed Hazard’s fingers fiercely. Then, as though that weren’t enough, he bent over and kissed Hazard’s cheek.

  “You are amazing,” he whispered. The fresh stubble on his cheek scraped Hazard as he pulled away.

  No one seemed to know what to say next. Somers and Cora both drank deeply of their wine. Nico leaned against Hazard, the tips of his fingers playing against Hazard’s. A low thrum interrupted the silence, and Somers pulled out his mobile phone. His eyes widened, and he glanced at Hazard and then Cora.

  “It’s my father.”

  “Go on,” Cora said.

  Somers nodded, as though barely hearing her. He punched something on the screen, put the phone to his ear, and lurched away from the table. The glasses rattled as Somers caught one of the table’s legs with his heel. “Father,” he said as he walked towards the door. “What’s wrong?”

  Nico’s dark, deep eyes rested on Hazard. “Is his father ill?”

  Hazard shook his head.

  “He seemed upset.”

  Yes, Hazard thought. Yes, Somers was probably upset. In fact, scratch that: Somers was definitely upset. Hazard only knew the outline of Somers’s relationship with his father, and much of that was guess-work, but certain elements seemed clear. For one, Somers never spoke with his parents. For another, Glennworth Somerset, his father, seemed like just about the coldest asshole this side of Antarctica. There were other things, things that Somers had hinted at when he’d drunk too much. And then there was that one goddamn football game.

  Hazard realized that Cora was studying him with her dark, glittering eyes. Hazard was speaking before he realized it. “You know better than I do.”

  Cora shrugged. “I’m not sure that I do. John-Henry’s parents all but disowned him when we got married. They softened a little when we had Evie, and they all but welcomed John-Henry back into the viper’s nest when we separated. His father called me a few times. He’s an attorney, not that he’s ever done much besides draw up a few contracts and cash a lot of checks. But he called a few times, threatening to sue me, threatening to sue for custody of Evie, threatening to sue for the house. I thought John-Henry had put him up to it. That was when things were at their worst between us.

  “Then, one day, I ran into them at the store. I don’t even remember which one. It was a clothing store, I think. Probably the Nordstrom’s. You’d think I would remember. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I walked right up to John-Henry and I told him that he could sue me, he could take everything I had, but that he’d never get Evie. I turned around, ready to march out of that store and never look back, but I stopped because I heard—” She paused, tracing the rim of the wine glass with a slack finger. “When I turned around, Glennworth Somers had a bloody lip, and John-Henry was shaking his hand. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t believe what had happened. I ran; it was like I’d done something wrong, like I’d been the one who punched him. I never—I’ve never talked to John-Henry about that. Never. But I knew tha
t he wasn’t the one making those threats.”

  Somers reappeared in the doorway, and Nico’s eyes narrowed. “He’s much more complicated than he seems, isn’t he?” Nico said. “I mean, he’s so . . . he acts like a frat boy sometimes, and the way he talks, the way he stands. But he’s not what I thought. Tonight, for example.”

  “Tonight?” Cora said. “What about tonight?”

  Nico shook his head, and before Cora could ask again, Somers had reached their table. He crooked a finger at Hazard.

  “We’ve got a call.”

  “We’re off rotation tonight.”

  “Well, we caught one.”

  “What happened?”

  “Will you come on already?”

  Hazard studied his partner. “What the hell could have happened? Are Lender and Swinney already on another call? All the patrol guys—”

  “Will get off your fucking ass,” Somers shouted, and then he broke off, reining in his voice. In a harsh whisper, he continued, “Will you get off your ass and come with me? We’ve got a call. What else do I have to say?”

  The Moulin Vert had gone silent; everyone, from the stuffy waiters to the even stuffier guests, paused and stared at Hazard’s table. Somers seemed to notice the attention; his face colored, and he rolled his shoulders. Swearing under his breath, he stalked towards the door. Conversation began to resume, voices breaking into low, excited murmurs.

  Fishing the keys out of his pocket, Hazard said, “Can you take her home?”

  “You’re going with him?” Nico asked, a mixture of shock and anger tightening his face. “After he talked to you like that?”

  “I can take a cab,” Cora said to no one in particular.

  “I’m going with him because we have a call. Can you take her home?”

  “I’ll take an Uber.”

  “Well?” Hazard dropped the keys into Nico’s hand.

  “Yes, fine. I’ll take her.”

  Planting a kiss on Nico’s cheek, Hazard squeezed his hand and trotted towards the door. Part of him was aware of the stares that followed him. The town faggot had gotten in a fight with his cop partner. The town faggot had kissed his boyfriend in public. The town faggot—Christ, that was never going to stop. He’d be dead and buried and they’d probably put up a sign marking the town faggot.