“I can’t say I blame you.”
“You’re awfully young to be so cynical.”
“Yeah, well I’ve had my fair share of shit thrown at me, and living in this neighborhood gives you reason not to trust the police. You know Rich Petersen?”
Nathan nodded. “There’re always a few bad eggs. But I like to think most people go into it for the right reasons.”
“Of course.” Sam glanced down, abashed. “The chief is a good guy. And Emma, of course. Was.” God, he’d really put his foot in it.
“I should go.” As Nathan pushed the plate of half-eaten toast away and stood, a tightness lodged in Sam’s throat. He’d made a misstep and he didn’t know how to fix it. He didn’t want Nathan to leave in this state.
Still, he said, “If I can help in any way, I will.”
Nathan’s eyes softened. “You’ve already done far more than anyone else, and hell if I know why. But thank you.”
“Do you need a ride home?”
“I’ll catch a cab.”
“All right. Nathan—” Sam restrained himself once again from reaching out and grabbing the man’s arm. “What will you do now?”
“I don’t know.”
Chapter 6
SAM PULLED up in front of Nathan’s house the next evening after work. He hadn’t been invited, but he couldn’t rest easy without finding out if the guy was okay.
This time Nathan was in the backyard doing laps. He covered the length of the pool in seconds, then performed some sort of fancy underwater flip, and headed back toward Sam with the butterfly stroke. He finished the lap and then held onto the edge, breathing heavily.
“What are you doing here?” Water droplets caught in Nathan’s long lashes as he looked up at Sam.
“I came to make sure you didn’t drown yourself. How long have you been out here?”
“I don’t know. A couple hours.”
Sam whistled and hooked his thumbs in his pockets. Though the water looked inviting, illuminated in the pool lights, he couldn’t imagine swimming for hours. “What are you, training for the Olympics?”
“I figure it’s a healthier way of tiring myself out than what I did last night.”
Sam didn’t mention he’d almost expected to find more of the same. “You’re probably right.”
“Do you want to come in?” Nathan’s muscles flexed as he pushed himself away from the edge.
The evening had begun to cool the air, but it was still sticky and hot. Sam hadn’t even thought to bring trunks. He remembered Nathan’s invitation weeks before, when he’d told Sam he could borrow a pair, but Sam would look ridiculous in anything of Nathan’s, what with the height difference. And nudity was out of the question. He shook his head. “I’m good.”
“Suit yourself.”
Nathan started another lap, this time at a slow crawl. For lack of anything else to do, Sam stationed himself on one of the deck chairs and watched as the sky darkened.
When he finally heaved himself out of the pool, Nathan’s usual grace was gone. He grabbed a towel and stood there staring across the pool at Sam, dripping wet.
“You’re still here?” There was actual surprise in his voice.
“You’re kind of freaking me out, to be honest. I’ve never seen someone swim so long, except maybe a seal.”
“I’m fine. I am… tired, though.” He approached with wobbly steps. “I’ll be okay.”
Right. He seemed hardly able to move, let alone towel himself off and go to bed. Sam imagined a different life, one where he could do the honors of drying Nathan’s muscular torso, his lean, strong legs—and then quickly pushed the thought from his mind.
“Good. Okay.”
“Good night, Sam.” Nathan started to walk away but then paused and turned his head. “I take it I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“You betcha.”
SAM MADE good on his promise. He showed up the next night, and the next. Most of the time, Nathan swam and they didn’t talk. It became a strange routine, the peaceful evening turning into night with only the sounds of gently lapping water and crickets to break the stillness. Out here in the country, millions of stars appeared once the sun set, and Sam wondered why he’d never given much thought to their beauty before. There was probably something to be said for looking up once in a while, instead of straight ahead, but Sam didn’t feel inclined to delve more deeply into the thought.
After the first night at Nathan’s, Sam made sure to bring his trunks. He never swam as long as Nathan did, but he did laps and then lounged by the pool’s edge, feet dangling. They spoke very little, except for passing comments about the weather or sports. But on the fourth night, Nathan seemed different. He smiled when Sam arrived and continued his lazy backstroke. “I was wondering if you were coming.”
“Of course.”
Sam nodded and went into the house to change. When he came back, Nathan was still idly circling the pool. Sam took a running leap, cannonballed into the cool water, and popped up only a couple of feet from Nathan.
“Quite an entrance.”
“Yeah, well, what can I say? I’m a drama queen.” And then, for no reason whatsoever, he splashed Nathan right in the face.
Nathan wiped the water from his eyes, which he then narrowed dangerously. “You splashed me.”
“Hell yeah, I did. And I’ll do it again.” So he did.
“Do you seriously want to play this game?”
Sam shivered, and not because of the coolness of the water, which had warmed considerably. Nathan’s predatory smile grew.
“You better swim fast.”
Sam dove to get a head start, but Nathan had the advantage. Before he knew it, Sam was trapped in Nathan’s strong arms and dragged toward the deep end of the pool. They wrestled, laughing, until Nathan finally got the better of Sam and dunked his head. Sam grabbed Nathan around the waist to pull him under as well, but the water made everything slippery. Their bodies slid together, and Sam suddenly realized he’d wrapped his leg around Nathan to get a firmer hold and had wound up in a very compromising position. His cock was hardening against Nathan’s thigh. Nathan exhaled against his cheek.
The struggle continued for a moment before Sam froze and, with a laugh to cover up his increasing embarrassment, pushed himself away. Nathan let him go without protest. Sam swam to the other end of the pool and then hoisted himself out, deciding to pretend nothing had happened.
“There’s water in my ear,” he explained, tilting his head to the right.
“I’m sorry.” Nathan sounded contrite.
“It’s not a big deal.” Maybe Nathan hadn’t even noticed Sam’s response to the roughhousing. A guy could hope.
“It’s getting late.”
“Yeah,” Sam agreed. Better leave before things got even more awkward. “I… I’ve got plans tomorrow night, so I probably won’t come by.”
Nathan glowered at him. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I don’t need a babysitter, Sam. I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. I’m always fine.”
Nathan got out of the pool too and dried himself off. Sam pulled his shirt over his head and wrapped a towel around his wet shorts. “Do you mind if I borrow this?” It would help keep his truck seat from getting soaked, not to mention hide his misbehaving erection.
“Not at all. Hey—”
“What’s up?”
“Thank you for the company. I do appreciate the distraction, but it almost doesn’t feel right. Like I shouldn’t be distracted. I don’t deserve to be.”
Sam nodded. He had a feeling there wouldn’t be any more late-night swims. “I understand what that’s like. But call me if you ever need to talk, okay?”
“I will.”
NATHAN DIDN’T call the next day, or the next. Sam got an assignment from the Gazette. In honor of Mark Feldman’s work, the mayor had made a two-year pledge to get drugs off the streets of Stonebridge. Sam’s editor insinuated his article
should take a positive spin on the plan, and Sam wondered, not for the first time, just how deep in the pockets of local government she was. He suspected the whole thing was nothing more than a publicity stunt.
Still, the article would pay more than his usual fare, so he swallowed his distaste and went down to the station on his day off to find someone to talk to. Since Emma was gone, he would need a new connection, and he didn’t like exploiting his relationship with the chief.
Petersen was loafing at the front desk with his hands resting on his paunch. His upper lip curled when he noticed Sam. “I knew I’d see you back here. Missing the interrogation room already?”
“Spare me your prison-rape fantasies, Petersen. I’m here to talk to someone about the mayor’s plan.”
Petersen crossed his arms. “And why should I help you?” Someone behind Sam cleared his throat. Sam turned around and got a face full of beefy and blond McCormick.
Sam smiled. “McCormick isn’t it? I was wondering if I could ask you some questions.”
McCormick looked from Petersen to Sam, as though unsure. “Uh.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Sam grabbed out his notebook and pen. All he really needed were a couple of stock quotes. “How many officers has the mayor designated for the cleanup downtown?”
“Uh. Twenty.”
“And are you one of those officers?”
“Yeah, I am.”
“Can you tell me anything about your strategy going forward?”
The interview proceeded in fits and starts. McCormick got a little more enthusiastic and talkative once they were out of Petersen’s earshot. He seemed very concerned with saying the wrong thing or critiquing the mayor’s policy. By the time Sam left the station, he had collected enough bland praise and positivity to write his softball article and earn his check.
He went back to Nathan’s the next week for maintenance, but no one was home. The same was true the next week, and the next. Either Nathan had gone away on a trip, or he’d decided to avoid Sam altogether. The following week, Sam sent another team.
Chapter 7
SAM STARED at the stupid, shiny balloons he’d tied to Tim’s bed frame. They danced in the cool fall breeze from the open window. Most other visitors had already left for the evening. Helen’s son had come and gone about an hour before, along with his wife and their baby. Sam should have given them the balloons. They were something you bought for a child, not for a brother turning twenty-one. Maybe that was the problem. He considered popping them, one by one, and imagined the sounds they would make. Loud enough to wake the dead.
At his own twenty-first birthday, Sam had relied on the kindness of his friends to get him shitfaced, but Tim didn’t exactly have that option.
“Wake up, Timbo,” Sam said. “Wake the fuck up, will you?”
His brother’s white face remained impassive. “I’ll take you to a strip club, and we’ll do tequila shots. Don’t you want to get laid?”
Nothing. Every day that passed meant Tim was slipping further away. Miraculously he’d held on this long, but even with the physical therapy designed to keep his muscles toned, he didn’t look much older than he had the day of the accident.
“You’re a real asshole, you know?”
He imagined Tim sitting up and shouting back at him, “You’re the asshole, asshole.”
When Timmy was twelve and Sam was seventeen, their family took a trip to Florida and all of those hot, crowded amusement parks. The whole time Sam had remained resolutely unimpressed. He refused to hang out with his family and ended up spending most of his time in an arcade near the hotel, playing Street Fighter and checking out cute boys. He’d been embarrassed and filled with wanting, without having any idea how to channel those emotions. That is until one of those boys noticed him looking and didn’t mind.
Paul, pretty and quiet, had freckles across the bridge of his nose and the most luscious lips Sam had ever seen. It started out innocently enough. The two of them met up each morning to play games or swim in the hotel pool. Paul wore low-slung board shorts that showed off his slim waist and hips, and at night Sam dreamt about grabbing hold of Paul’s smooth body and pressing close.
And one day, away from the sharp eyes of his family, Sam had his first kiss. The shock of it hit him like a revelation. He didn’t know where to touch, how to get close enough, how to understand the brilliance of another boy’s mouth on his. The intensity blotted everything else out. So when Timmy begged and pleaded to join them on that final afternoon, Sam had said no and hurried off to meet his friend. They spent hours alone in Paul’s room, and that night when Sam boarded the airplane to return to New England, he left his virginity behind in Florida too.
Tim pouted for a few days once they got home, mad at Sam for the exclusion, but then things went back to normal. Sam finished up his final year of high school and went to college. When he came home for breaks and holidays, he filled his time with old friends and crappy jobs. Sometimes he ate dinner with his family. But then a friend would call or he’d hear about a party, and he’d be off again, thoughtless and full of the promise of life outside the confines of home.
Sam thought about that summer a lot, but never figured out how to forgive himself for the missed opportunities. His brother grew up without him, and Sam never found out Tim’s favorite movies or if he liked girls. And then there were the things Sam never told Tim or his parents. That he was gay. That he loved them.
Of course they knew about the love already. But still.
Part of him understood he’d been acting like any normal teenager finding his way. Another part of him, no matter how irrational, felt like he should have known. He should have known about time.
Tim’s hand lay lifeless and warm in his, and Sam squeezed it. “I’m sorry. You’re not an asshole. Happy birthday, buddy.” Visiting hours were over.
Sam pulled out of the parking lot at breakneck speed and headed south down the freeway. He needed to put some space between himself and his life, and a night in New York was just the thing. Calling Yuri was an afterthought, but he did it anyway, keeping one eye out for cops as he hit the speed dial.
“Hey, Sam.” Yuri sounded wary. He knew what day it was.
“Hey. So I’m thinking about heading down to the city for the night. Hit up a club or two. You in?”
“I’ve got to work tomorrow, and so do you.”
“That never stopped us before. We can be in for seven, take an early train.”
“It’s a big job tomorrow.” But Sam could hear the hesitation in Yuri’s voice, and he wasn’t above exploiting it for the company. He hummed. “Come on. For old time’s sake. Don’t make me dance alone.”
Yuri snorted. “You never dance alone, Sam.”
Shit. He’d lost the thread with that one. Perhaps guerilla tactics would be more effective. “Get ready. I’ll be at your place in ten minutes, and I won’t take no for an answer.”
“Yes, you will.” This time it sounded final. “I can’t come. You have a good time, but be safe. Okay?”
“You’re no fun anymore, old man.”
“Yeah, maybe not. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The line went dead, and Sam tossed his phone onto the empty passenger’s seat. It didn’t matter if Yuri didn’t want to come. Rachel was the other obvious choice, but she’d be working until closing time. He really needed to make some new friends.
By the time he parked at the commuter rail and paid for his ticket, the sun had already dipped low in the sky. The train hurtled into the station like a steel cage filled with oblivious captives, lost in their cell phones and laptops. Sam grabbed a seat facing forward and stared out the window as they began to move again, first slowly, then gaining more speed. The sway of the train and the loud clatter of the rails lulled him into the first calm he’d felt in days.
The clubs would be dead for a while once he arrived, but he could spend some time in the Village, maybe, or grab a bite to eat. It would be far better than another night in Stonebri
dge, another night at the same bar or at his apartment, in his neighborhood. An old woman sat across from him, sleeping with her head pressed against the window. Her gray hair was mottled through with sickly yellow, and even with several feet between them, Sam could smell the stink of old clothes and unwashed flesh.
He wondered what contentment felt like. Did anyone live a charmed life, or was it a myth designed to make everyone feel like shit?
This woman’s face and worn, dirty clothes spoke of hardship and suffering, but maybe all of that was misleading. This woman, with all of her seeming vulnerabilities on display, had courage. So did Tim. They didn’t deserve Sam’s pity. Better pity a man like Feldman who had every advantage, yet lacked the strength to show his true face to the world, or someone like Nathan or Sam, who hid pain away behind closed doors and socially condoned anesthetics.
Maybe Sam was getting too maudlin for his own good.
He turned his gaze again to the window and watched the evening zoom by.
Once the train left them off at Grand Central, Sam decided to walk downtown and stretch his legs. The heavy traffic of the city filled the air with exhaust, which combined with the sweet smell of roasting peanuts as the skyscrapers of midtown gave way to shorter, picturesque brownstones. After about an hour, he entered a familiar neighborhood, lively with late shoppers and groups of friends heading out for the night, meeting and mingling at cafes and trendy bars. Even for early fall, the city was noticeably warmer than it had been in Stonebridge. Most of the guys wore jeans and tees to show off their sculpted muscles and tattoos, their hair artfully mussed. A few of them gave Sam appreciative once-overs, which he returned in a noncommittal way.
When he and Yuri first met, they’d come to the city often—usually to pick up guys, but sometimes to hang out, just the two of them. It had been a while, though, and Sam wondered how things had gotten so fucking weird. Maybe it was his fault. He’d sensed Yuri’s feelings for him had grown more serious, but he’d been too caught up in his own desires and the convenience of their relationship to think too hard about it.
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