As I Am

by A. M. Arthur

  “Medical transcriptionist,” he replied. “I’m a fast typer and the work is steady, if boring. It lets me work from home, too.”

  “I can totally understand why you’d want to work from home.” Before Taz could bristle and brace for a comment about his face, Romy went on. “I mean, I love this place and the people I work with, but sometimes customers can be downright horrible. It’s hard not to let it get to you.”

  Taz smiled. “I worked my way through high school in various fast food places, so I hear you. What do you do, Brendan?”

  “Work for a janitorial service while I finish my degree,” Brendan said with a proud grin. “Physical therapy. I only need three semesters’ worth of credits to graduate.”

  “Very cool.” Taz had mad respect for the guy, whom he’d guess to be older than him, for finishing his college degree. Taz hadn’t even considered completing his courses. There had never seemed to be a point before. “I didn’t finish mine. Had to drop out for medical reasons.”

  “Ever think about going back?”

  “Not really.” But the seed had been planted in fertile soil.

  “What were you studying?”

  “Business management.”

  Will perked up. “You never told me that.”

  “You never asked,” Taz replied. “Plus it was pretty boring. My main goal was to have something stable, you know? Something I could take almost anywhere. I don’t think I want to do that anymore.”

  “Well, I never went to college,” Romy said. “And neither did the two guys who own this place, so I say do what makes you happy.”

  “Yeah, but,” Brendan said, “one of the owners is also practically married to a future college professor.”

  Romy shrugged. “What can I say? We’re an eclectic bunch.”

  “Clearly,” Taz said.

  “Your turn, Will. Are you even legal?” Romy winked at him.

  Will huffed. “I’m nineteen, thank you very much. Twenty in November.”

  “Bren’s birthday is in a couple of days. He had the big three-oh scare last year, so his mother insisted on a big family dinner. Thirty-one isn’t such a big deal, so we’re having a small party at our place with our friends.” Romy’s eyes widened. “You guys should come. You don’t have to bring presents or food or anything. Just come over, and we’ll introduce you to our friends. Broaden your social circle.”

  Taz blinked hard at the generous offer. “You barely know us.”

  “And we’ll get to know you better at the party. Saturday night at seven.” Romy reached a hand toward Will. “Can I have your phone?” Will passed it over, and they all silently watched him add his contact information. “There. Text me, and I’ll send you the address.”

  Will took his phone back, his expression clearly showing he wasn’t sure all of that had actually happened. Taz was kind of shocked himself. He wasn’t used to people offering their friendship so easily, and without anything required in return.

  “I promise nothin’ crazy or kinky will happen,” Brendan said.

  Romy started laughing. “Oh my God. Two years ago, Ezra hired a stripper as a birthday surprise. Brendan was so embarrassed it took him a month to forgive Ez. And that was after all kinds of groveling from him.”

  Taz wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to meet this Ezra person anymore. And something of that must have shown on his face, because Romy hastily added, “Ezra can be a little outrageous sometimes, but he has a huge heart. If you’re his friend, he will walk in front of a bus for you. He’s not an intentionally mean person.”

  “Unless you mess with someone he loves,” Brendan said. “But we’re all kind of that way.”

  They were, from everything Taz was hearing, a tight-knit group of friends who had each other’s backs. And they were inviting him and Will into that circle. At least for a test run to see if they meshed.

  “Do you want to go?” he asked Will.

  “Sure.” Will grinned across the table. “Will there be dancing? I’ve never seen Taz dance.”

  Taz groaned.

  “There will be if Ezra and Alessandro get drunk,” Romy said. “But doubtful, since Alè has to open the shop Sunday morning.”

  “Don’t need liquor to have a good time,” Brendan said.

  “Well, I wouldn’t know,” Will said with enough of a sarcastic huff to make everyone laugh.

  “Mark your calendar, then,” Taz said. “When you turn twenty-one, I’m taking you out for your very first drink of hard liquor.”

  “Legal drink,” Romy said. “We might corrupt him first.”

  Will started to laugh, but the sound caught in his throat. He went quiet so fast, Taz squeezed his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” Will said. “It’s just... Romy, this is going to sound really weird, and please don’t be offended, but...there won’t be drugs or anything at the party, right?”

  “No, there won’t, and I’m not offended,” Romy replied. “In the past, most of us have done poppers when we’re out at a club, but not anymore.”

  “Okay. Thank you. I hated asking, but...”

  “I get it. Safe environment, trigger avoidance. Believe me, I get it.”

  Taz glanced at Brendan, who was watching Will with a sad frown. Commiserating without pitying him, and Taz realized he could potentially have a good friend in Brendan. They both loved guys with hard pasts, who had good days and bad days.

  And Taz wouldn’t have it any other way.

  * * *

  Will’s cell started ringing at almost the exact moment he stepped off the bus near Taz’s building. He got out of the way of the other departing passengers, aware of Taz nearby, and yanked the phone out of his back pocket.

  Morrell.

  “The police,” he said, mostly for Taz’s benefit. With a suddenly shaky finger, he took the call. “Hello?”

  “Mr. Madden? It’s Detective Morrell.”

  “Yes, I know.” Will’s stomach soured. “Do you have an update?”

  “I do. We got word that a John Doe we fished out of the Christina River late last week has been positively identified as Christopher Mayes.”

  “Mayes is dead?” Will swayed, grateful when Taz caught him around the waist and led him away from the bus stop. Toward the meager shade of a small, gnarled tree.

  “He is. The ME has also estimated he died roughly six to eight weeks ago.”

  “That’s practically right after I spotted him at Daffy’s. He’s been dead this whole time?” Will didn’t care that the man was dead. One less drug-dealing pervert on the streets. But that he’d been dead this entire time, while Will kept looking over his shoulder, expecting to see the man at any moment? That pissed him off.

  And Morrell said he’d been pulled from the river. “Did he drown?”

  “No, we have reason to suspect foul play. The river was probably an attempt to dispose of the body.”

  “Christ. Someone else killed him?”

  “I can’t discuss certain details with you, Mr. Madden. As you know, Mayes was connected to a larger, ongoing investigation. I’ve kept you apprised because of your unique connection to the case, but for now we’re keeping this one close to the vest.”

  “I understand.”

  No, I don’t. I don’t understand any of this.

  Will spotted the guy in a bar, told the cops, and a week later the guy was dead, probably murdered, the body dumped into a river. But by who? And why? That kind of Sopranos shit didn’t happen in real life.

  “I wanted you to have this information,” Morrell said. “Figured you deserved to know the bastard was dead.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I also need to ask if you’d be willing to come down to the medical examiner’s office and make a positive ID of your own. The sca
r you mentioned on his right hand was no longer there, thanks to the river’s wildlife, and his face isn’t pretty, but...”

  Will leaned more heavily into Taz’s embrace, too damned hot from the August temps and his own rising fear. “I, um, I guess so. When?”

  “Whenever’s convenient. Call and let me know when you can meet me there. It will be a big help to our case to have this ID on record.”

  “Okay. I’ll call you.”

  “All right. Take care, son.”

  Will hung up absently, too scared and confused to pay much attention past the simple task of walking. Walking forward, then up steps. Into cooler air. Over to a couch. And then Taz was there, holding him, hugging him, being his rock in this brand-new shit storm. Will clung to him and shook, letting his emotions out the way they knew best.

  It took a while for him to calm down. Taz got him some water, and that helped.

  “I’m going to make a guess based on what I heard,” Taz said, “that Christopher is dead. Murdered?”

  “Sounds like it.” Will described the call in more detail. “I don’t want to see a dead body. I really don’t.”

  Taz growled. A for-real angry growl. “I hate them for asking you to do that.”

  “Thanks. I get why they do. They’re after whoever Mayes worked for, and they need to know for sure he’s linked back to my mother’s case.”

  “Doesn’t make me hate it any less.”

  “I know.” Will shifted so he faced Taz head-on. “I, um, hate to ask but...”

  The flushed side of Taz’s face paled to the same tone as the scarred side. “You want me to come with you.”

  “I don’t know if I can do it alone. And it’s not just seeing a dead body, it’s seeing him again.”

  “I get it.”

  But he wasn’t jumping in to say yes, he’d go with Will to the ME’s office. It hurt—a lot—but Will tried to play it off. “Never mind, you probably don’t want to be anywhere near a dead person, either. I’ll ask Gloria or Jimmy if they’ll go with me.”

  Taz flinched. “I’m sorry, I really am.”

  “No big deal.” Very big fucking deal. “Are you hungry? I can start something for dinner.”

  “Will—”

  “It’s fine.” He stood, probably too fast, and charged for the kitchen. Frustrated and upset, despite being fully aware it had been a pretty huge ask. They’d probably both have their own unique meltdowns, and wouldn’t that be something for Morrell to witness? No, he’d take a social worker with him. It would be easier that way.

  The hurt lingered between them for the rest of the night, through a quiet dinner and an even quieter movie viewing. Will begged off any sort of physical affection, and Taz didn’t fuss. They hugged at the door when Will left an hour earlier than his usual time.

  The hurt followed him home, and in the wee hours of the morning, it finally distanced itself enough for Will to fall into a fitful sleep.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Taz barely slept that night, but a cheerful good-morning text from Will helped ease some of the panic he’d carried since the night before, ever since Will had asked him to go to the morgue to identify a dead body in front of Detective Morrell. Taz wasn’t proud of his reaction, and he hated himself for turning Will down, when he knew how hard this was going to be for him.

  But Taz was scared. Scared that if Morrell saw Will and Taz together, he’d say something to Will about Peter’s previous arrest. Taz hadn’t managed to bring that up, because he knew how sensitive Will was to drugs and drug dealers. And Morrell hadn’t contacted Taz again, so probably whatever he’d been digging around for was long finished.

  He simply didn’t want to risk it. Why bother, when things between him and Will had been so great?

  Except they weren’t all that great right now. Were they?

  He logged on for his day’s work, stopping for lunch as usual. And as per their new normal, Will showed up promptly at four thirty, armed with stuff to make dinner. He was cheerful and talkative, giving no indication that the dead body conversation had ever happened, so Taz went with it. Ignoring it was easier.

  They ate, talked, laughed, made out, watched TV, and when Will led him into the bedroom later, Taz submitted to whatever Will wanted. Will turned him onto his hands and knees and fucked him hard from behind—the first time they’d had sex without looking at each other. It didn’t feel right to Taz, but Will wanted it that way, and Taz had been the one to hurt him.

  On Friday, Will got caught up with the Stanley Center and begged off coming over, and Taz was okay with that. Will didn’t mention having gone to identify Christopher Mayes yet, so Taz assumed he was putting it off as long as possible. And he kind of hated himself for being too cowardly to even ask.

  Brendan’s birthday party was Saturday night, but not until late. They’d already planned to spend part of the day on the River Taxi, going up and down the Christina River. Neither of them had ever done it, and Taz liked boats. Will showed up promptly at ten o’clock with a huge smile and a kiss for him. The day passed as if the morgue conversation had never happened, and Taz let it go. He embraced the joy—and his boyfriend, as often as possible—as they spent the day on the river, and then later walking up and down its footpaths.

  Taz had picked a tapas restaurant for dinner, and Will seemed enamored by the food choices. He ordered all kinds of small plates, and they had a great time tasting things. Creating new combinations. Figuring out what flavors worked best with each other. Rather, Will did most of that. Taz ended up being his guinea pig and eating whatever Will held up to his lips.

  After one quick stop, the date ended with them holding hands in the back of the taxi driving them over to Brendan and Romy’s place. They lived in one half of a duplex in a neighborhood that had seen better days, but the cars all had tires on them, and Taz didn’t see any hookers on the corners, so it wasn’t all bad.

  Romy had said they didn’t need to bring anything, but Taz didn’t want to show up empty-handed, so he’d gotten Romy’s number from Will and texted about ideas. Romy shot back a microbrew beer that Brendan really liked, so their taxi had swung by a liquor store that was on the way.

  Beer in his left hand and Will’s hand in his right, Taz led them up the cracked walkway to the small porch. It was clean, free of cobwebs or dirt, and two plastic lawn chairs were set up around a small matching table. Taz could totally see him and Will having something like this one day—a place to sit back at night, drink a beer and tell each other about their day.

  The front door opened before he had a chance to knock. Romy grinned at them from the other side. “You came!” he said. “And you’re totally the first ones here.”

  “We’re a bit early,” Taz said. “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s fine. It’s actually not a bad thing. You can both get used to the strange environment before strange people start filling it up.”

  “Which he totally thought of beforehand,” Brendan said as he entered the foyer from the living room. “That’s why he told everyone else to be here at seven thirty.”

  “Really?” Will looked between the pair with wide eyes. “You did that for us?”

  Romy winked. “Told you. Excellent therapist. And I don’t know you guys well yet, or your stories, but I know what it’s like to battle anxiety. So come in. Please.”

  He ushered them into a cozy living room mostly overtaken by a large leather sofa and two blue upholstered chairs. Vivid artwork hung on the walls and the coffee table looked like stacked pallets. Through another archway was an odd kind of dining room. It had a long table in the middle and what looked like a commercial refrigerator in one corner. Past that was the kitchen.

  “You’re probably wondering what’s up with the giant table for two people,” Romy said with a soft laugh. “I’ll let Brendan tell you all about that o
ne.”

  Brendan grunted. “It’s our food prep space for Street Feed.”

  “What’s Street Feed?” Taz asked.

  “Somethin’ me and Eddie—er, you’ll meet him as Donner. We’ve been doin’ it for about eleven years now, minus two we didn’t. We collect food from trash cans behind grocery stores that’s perfectly edible still, but they tossed anyway because of dates, and we make meals to feed the homeless. Set up every Friday night, rain or snow.”

  “Dude, that’s amazing,” Will said.

  Brendan shrugged, obviously not the guy who did it for accolades. “Sometimes we have a third guy who helps us. Depends on his day job. Anyway, we store the food here and then do all the prep and cooking.”

  “It gives us a very nontraditional dining room,” Romy said. “But the size of it is why we picked this place when we decided to relocate.”

  “How long have you guys lived here?” Taz asked.

  “A little over a year. It has three bedrooms, which we really didn’t need, but one’s ours and one is for Brendan’s exercise equipment. The other one is empty, since we don’t need a guest room. All of our friends live in the city, and so does Brendan’s family, so there’s no one to visit.”

  Taz didn’t miss that Romy made no mention of his own family, but he wasn’t about to pry. He’d left them out for a reason. “Oh, and um, happy birthday.” He held the beer out to Brendan.

  “Thanks, man, I love this one,” Brendan said. “You want?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Anyone else?”

  “How about I put them in the fridge until later?” Romy said. “I need to go put chips in bowls and take lids off jars of dip. We’re a simple bunch.”

  “Do you want help?” Will asked.

  “Sure, why not? We can quietly gossip about our guys and make them wonder what we’re saying about them.”

  Will laughed as he followed Romy through the dining room to the kitchen beyond.

  “Want somethin’ else to drink?” Brendan asked.

  “I’m good for now, thanks,” Taz replied. He wasn’t sure where to sit, so he inched closer to one of the blue chairs. When Brendan finally took one end of the couch, Taz sat, too. He tried to remember how to chat with guys his age, but that was all back when everyone assumed he was straight.