Skin Puppet: Reightman & Bailey Book Three

by Jeffery Craig

  She remained frozen in place as he placed a kiss on her cheek. Once he’d gone, she repositioned the ornate metal hairpins holding her braids in place, and rejoined the children. She was well-aware of the myth referenced. She’d looked up the origin of her name long ago.

  ***

  It was nearly five o’clock by time Toby and Jon finished their shopping. Toby usually went to the nearest superstore and found the few plants he needed to fill his planters, but when he suggested they do the same, Jon scoffed at the idea. Instead, he drove them to several independent nurseries, assuring Toby their offerings would be much more varied and the plants healthier. After the first stop, Toby had to agree.

  Jon carefully selected plants for his aunt, and after consultation with one particularly handsome nursery helper, Toby settled on a mixture of tropical plants, herbs, and perennials for his own terrace. Jon watched the hunky helper guide Toby through the confusing aisles, and when he cocked one elegant eyebrow at a particularly flirtatious exchange, Toby admitted he was enjoying the one-on-one attention. “There’s no harm in shopping,” he informed his companion for the day.

  To which Jon had replied, “No, there’s not. But whether you know it or not, you already have plenty to handle.”

  Toby puzzled over that tantalizing comment while the young man rang up his order and helped carry the plants out to Jon’s truck.

  Other than the plants for Zhou Li, Jon made only one purchase for himself. The carefully nurtured maple was just beginning to leaf out, but Toby found the gnarled and twisted miniature trunk and limbs intriguing. He nearly choked when he realized the small bonsai cost as much as the rest of the plants together.

  “Why so expensive?” he asked when they were settled in the cab of the truck, headed to just one more place Jon wanted to check out.

  “That particular tree is over fifty years old,” Jon explained. “It probably represents a good portion of a single craftsman’s work over the course of his lifetime. You getting hungry?”

  Toby’s stomach gave a loud growl of acknowledgement. “Sure, I could eat.”

  After a quick lunch, they finished up the shopping and parked in front of Green Dragon. They unloaded the haul of greenery inside the door of the studio, and Jon helped Toby lug his load upstairs to his apartment.

  “Do want help carrying the rest up to Madame Zhou’s?” Toby offered as they stood just inside the door gazing down at the remaining nursery flats.

  “Thank you, but no. I’ll take them up after giving her a call. She doesn’t care for surprise visits to her living quarters, even from a favorite nephew bearing gifts.”

  They stood gazing in each other’s eyes until Toby found he was getting a new case of the nerves. “Well, thanks for asking me along. I had a good time.”

  “I had a very nice time, as well.”

  Toby shuffled his feet, and forced himself to stop once he realized what an idiot he was being. “And hey, we even ate a meal together. Just us two.”

  Jon shook his head. “That didn’t count.”

  “Why?”

  “It wasn’t dinner. Remember, our date’s tonight. ”

  “Oh, yeah.” Toby’s heart gave a little happy beat. “Did you check out the places I told you about?”

  “Not yet. I decided I’d like to do something else instead.”

  “W-w-what?” He hated it when he stuttered.

  “I’m going to prepare dinner for us myself.”

  “You are?”

  Jon nodded.

  “Ummm, okay? What time?”

  “Seven-thirty? Meet me here. I’m afraid the most convenient access to my apartment is through the studio.”

  “Okay.” Tony forced what he knew was a goofy grin of his face and turned to open the door. At the last minute, he turned back around. “You know, we don’t have to do this…I mean, if you don’t want….”

  Jon walked forward and cupped the side of Toby’s face in one hand. He leaned in and very deliberately placed a gentle, but searing, kiss on his lips. The spark between them flared into vibrant, intense color, and Toby’s lips burned when Jon pulled away.

  “Does that clarify things?” Jon asked.

  “Yeah. I guess it pretty much does.”

  “Good. See you at seven-thirty, then.”

  Toby simply opened the door and slowly walked up his apartment stairs.

  It took up until his fourth shower of the day for the tingling in his lips to stop. The shower count was a little confusing, since he’d only intended to take one additional before evening. However, once he stepped out his third of the day and finished drying off, he let his hopeful imagination get the upper hand. He wasn’t sure what to expect from the evening ahead, but decided he’d rather be safe than sorry. He stepped back into the stall to do a little extra body grooming and by time he was done, he figured it for sure counted as shower number four. He fussed with his hair for a bit, skipping on any product. Jon had seen his mop at its worst, and hair gel tended to feel a little artificial once it dried. Tonight, Toby wanted everything be as genuine as possible.

  He pulled on a pair of well-worn jeans and a pale blue Henley almost exactly the color of his eyes. He skipped the boxers, and wondered if it was the right choice. Feeling the soft, almost-threadbare denim rub softly against his hypersensitive skin, he smiled and determined it was, indeed. He grabbed a pair of loafers and then dumped them back on the closet floor. A pair of leather flip-flops was more his style.

  He gave himself the once-over in the big bathroom mirror and declared himself as ready as he’d ever be. Now, all he had to do was fill the next hour until it was time to go.

  He settled for pouring a glass of wine and taking it out on the terrace. He looked over the new collection of plants and mentally arranged them in the large, glazed pots. Tomorrow, he’d get them all planted and ready to show Grams when she visited the following weekend. He finished the wine, enjoying the orange and pink sunset clouds, then grabbed an unopened bottle to take with him. He locked up and sat at the top of the stairs, watching the time display on his phone count down the minutes. At exactly seven-twenty-five, he took a deep, cleansing breath and went downstairs. Jon was waiting for him when he knocked on the door.

  Jon had also opted for jeans. It was the first time Toby could recall him wearing anything other than one of his usual tunic-style uniforms, which ranged in style from ratty casual to pristinely formal. The dark gray, long-sleeved shirt shimmered in the remains of the evening light—the soft, silky texture begged to be touched.

  “Hey,” was all Toby could think to say.

  “Good evening,” Jon replied. “I see you brought wine.”

  “Yeah. I hope it’s okay.”

  “I like this one, but I have something a little different planned. We can save it for next time. Come on up.”

  Jon locked the front door and led the way across the wooden floor to the enclosed stairwell in the back. “There’s an elevator, but I usually use the stairs. I didn’t think you’d mind, since it’s only one flight. After you.” Jon indicated Toby should take the lead.

  Toby wondered if Jon was checking out his ass. “Of course he is,” he decided, secure in the knowledge his butt was pretty damn fine. Upon reaching the small landing which served as an entry to the apartment, he stepped out of the way so Jon could open the door.

  He stopped just inside the door, both to get his bearings and to allow his host to catch up. Jon’s loft apartment was as different from his own conventional abode as a space could be. It was an open design, with living and dining areas exposed to the kitchen, which was divided from the rest by a long, polished concrete counter— apparently a combination bar and island. The stainless steel stove and refrigerator reflected the industrial lighting hanging from the twelve-foot ceiling. No attempt had been made to hide the exposed beams, ducts, and pipes. They were simply painted the same soft white as the rest of the space.

  The furniture—what there was of it—was low and sleek and the neutral tones
of fabric and leather merged effortless with the bleached wood of the floors and accent tables. The only real color in the room was provided by a large, three-panel screen mounted on a freestanding wall, partially separating the sleeping area. Toby noticed that the screen included a lot of small, meticulously painted figures and its bright cacophony of color contrasted nicely with the rest of the loft.

  “Make yourself at home,” Jon instructed as he carried the bottle of wine to the kitchen. “I just have a few more things to finish up before dinner is ready.” Toby trailed behind and Jon stowed the wine in the fridge, and pulled out a couple of small, green glass bottles. He pulled of the caps and reached across the bar and handed one to his guest. “I’m not sure if you’re a beer drinker or not. If you are, you might be disappointed. If you aren’t, all I can say is, give this a try. I ran on to it during my travels and decided I liked it enough to make the effort to keep a few bottles on hand. The small liquor store over on Main orders it for me a few times a year.”

  Toby examined the pale gold label. Other than the red printed characters, which he assumed were Mandarin or Cantonese, the only clue on the bottle was the roughly drawn rooster with tilted back head.

  Toby took a cautious pull on the bottle. Expecting a blend of yeasty hops, he was surprised by the rich, slightly acidic flavor rolling across his tongue. There was the smallest hint of ginger hiding underneath the other tastes. He took another drink, trying to decipher the combination. He didn’t know if he liked it, but he didn’t hate it. After another sip, he determined it might be growing on him.

  “What is this stuff?”

  “I’m not sure how to explain it. I guess it’s a sort of cider, fortified with a little rice wine. It’s made by a small brewery in Taiwan.”

  “Hmmm. What’s it called?”

  Jon’s gray eyes twinkled, and one side of his mouth quirked up in amusement. He tilted back his own bottle and took a deep drink and then set the bottle down on the counter. “The closest translation would be…Big Crowing Cock.”

  Toby barely avoided spitting out his mouthful. “Seriously? That’s so wrong.”

  Jon shrugged and lifted the bottle in mock salute. “It certainly raised a few eyebrows when I placed the order. I can get you something else, if you’d prefer.”

  Toby decided he liked the brew just fine. “Nope. I’m good. Need any help with dinner?”

  “Thanks, but I’m almost done. Why don’t you look around while I finish up? I won’t bother with a tour, since it’s pretty much all one big room.”

  Carrying his little green bottle with him, Toby wandered over to the open door to the small, narrow patio and noted the placement of the new bonsai tree. He took another sip of the cider stuff, and strolled past the few pieces of furniture. Large pillows were placed on either side of the large, rectangular table in front of the couch. A single white candle was placed in the middle of the table with a collection of simple pottery dishes at each end. Failing to spot a regular dining table and chairs, he figured they were going to eat there. His steps carried him to the dividing wall, and he hesitated, before entering the sleeping area. “He did say to make myself at home…”

  Like the rest of the loft, this space fairly stark in its simplicity. The king-sized bed was low to the ground and positioned almost in the middle of the area. The need for nightstands was circumvented by the bench-like surround. The small remote control device sitting on the frame puzzled him for a second, until he looked up and spotted the streamlined fan and small drop-down spot lights hanging from the confusing tangle of pipes near the high ceiling.

  To the left of the bed was huge glass-enclosed shower and a double basin mounted on a minimalistic arrangement of low, closed cabinets, topped in the same concrete as the kitchen area bar. A small, closed door set into the wall led to the toilet. “At least that’s private!” The wall on the right side of the room was covered with shelving and what looked like closet cupboards. Smack in the middle of the wall was a large, full-length mirror. Toby studied the placement of the mirror in relationship to the bed, and smirked as he connected the dots. “Well, that has definite possibilities.”

  After another chug from the green bottle, Toby decided to check on his host. As he passed the colorful screen, he stopped and moved closer to inspect the scene. His eyes widened in surprise once he realized what he was seeing. The dozens of painted figures were all in various stages of undress and were engaged in pretty inventive sexual acts. Men with women, women with women—and yes, siree!—men with men. A few of the salacious scenes featured multiple participants, and Toby leaned closer to try and figure out one particularly complex configuration, wondering if the pose was even possible.

  “Pretty wild, huh?” Jon asked as he came up behind him.

  “Yeah. Where’d you find this?”

  “Well, believe it or not, it belonged to my great-grandfather. He kept it hidden away in his private quarters, for obvious reasons. When he passed away, the screens were placed in storage. A couple of years ago, I was helping my grandmother dig through some things and found it. It was covered with some old packing blankets and when I uncovered one corner and realized what I was looking at, I asked if I could have it.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She just laughed and told me she was sure that, if nothing else, it would be instructive.”

  “It certainly is that!”

  “I’ve tried to count how many different combinations there are, but I always get distracted.” Jon reached past, lightly brushing his arm against Toby’s. “I do have a couple of favorites. This one,” he gently touched one grouping, before moving to another. “And this one here, and, oh, I really like this one too.”

  “You like that one?”

  “Yes, although, I don’t really think it’d be possible. Still, one never knows until one tries.”

  Toby felt his face heating. Trying to clear his head of the light, spicy scent coming from the man next to him, he shrugged and tried for at least some equanimity. “I can almost guarantee it’s not, unless everyone involved is very limber.” After another close look, he added, “And has a lot of upper body strength.”

  “Hmmm.” Jon’s considering hum was beyond distracting, and Toby felt his flush deepen. Thankfully, Jon announced dinner was ready.

  They ate from the series of light dishes Jon had prepared, and enjoyed a few more small bottles of what was rapidly evolving into Toby’s new favorite beverage. After the dishes were cleared away, they relaxed in surprisingly comfortable silence. As he stared into the gently flickering candle on the table, Toby’s mind started to wonder if the evening was winding down. He was comfortable with whatever direction things took, but decided he wanted a little clarification on just what exactly this evening had been.

  “So…”

  “Yes,” Jon interjected. “So…I guess we need to talk.”

  “Yeah, I think we should. Before we get into the heavy stuff, I want to say I really enjoyed dinner. You went to a lot of trouble, Jon. It was very nice.”

  “Thank you. I enjoy cooking and it’s been a while since I’ve prepared a meal for anyone else.” Jon played with the blue label on the bottle in front from him and started to carefully pull its edges back from the green glass. “I suppose I should start by saying I don’t know where this is headed, but…I’d like to find out. Before things progress any further though, there are a few things you should know.”

  “Okay.”

  Jon removed his fingers from the bottle and then pushed it away from him. “This is hard for me to talk about.”

  “You don’t have to share anything with me that makes you uncomfortable.”

  Jon sat in silence and then slowly nodded. “I think it’s time to share with someone. The only thing I ask is that you let me finish before interrupting. I don’t know if I can get through this otherwise.”

  Toby sat quietly while Jon shared his past. The story of his early career, his misspent youth, meeting and marrying Grace were told calmly
and smoothly, with a few smiles of remembrance. When he came to what happened next, his voice became quieter and somehow, rougher. As he talked about the past tragedy, Toby longed to move from his side of the table and offer comfort, but instinctively knew it would be the wrong thing at the wrong time.

  Jon told him of the aftermath and described his few years of aimless wandering and the dark, lonely despair he’d lived with until his mother’s insistence that it was time for him to allow his grief to settle into a quiet, sad memory. He spoke of his Aunt’s reluctantly admitted need for assistance, and how it was time to put the pieces of his life back together. He shared the journey of the last months which had finally brought him here, to this shared meal. Slowly and haltingly, he described the sensation he’d felt the first time he’d met Toby, and the connection that had been building between them since.

  After he’d subsided into silence, Toby shifted on the pillow, and looked across the table.

  “Thank you,” he whispered. And then, he shared the events of his own life, and told him about Geri, and John Brown. He spoke of Zhou Li and Moon, and the rest of the people on Capital Street who’d helped him through the worst of it. He talked about Melba, and after a moment’s pause, told him about Mitchell.

  When he was finished, he met Jon’s gray eyes, and found them calm, serene, and accepting.

  “Now what?”

  Jon uncrossed his legs and rose from the floor. He headed to the kitchen and, after a few minutes, came back with a stoneware flask and two small cups. He took his seat and opened the flask and filled the cups, then passed one to Toby. “Drink.”

  “What is it?”

  “Plum wine. We will drink these cups and think about the past and those that lived through it with us. When we’re done, we’ll drink another —to the future.”

  Toby raised the cup to his lip and took a swallow of the warm, rich wine. Like Madame Zhou’s tea, the wine was complex in flavor and a million tastes of life washed over his tongue. He forced himself to relax as he drank down memories, which changed like the wine—sharp, then bitter, then mellow and sweet. Once he’d finished the last of the wine, he blinked and brought himself back to the present. He carefully placed his cup on the table, and Jon did the same.