Wheels and Heels

by Jaime Samms

  “I can’t believe Johnny did that.”

  “I can. He’s crazy.”

  “Then I’m glad he’s on my side.” Ira disengaged from Jed’s hug and stepped back. “I’d better go close up. He’s right that Ced might come back. And he’s right that it’s best if I’m not around if he does.”

  “Okay. You’ll be okay on your own?”

  “A three-block cab ride and up to my apartment? I think I can handle it.” Ira grinned. “Though I appreciate the concern.”

  “Do you?” Jed cocked his head. “Because that seems unlike you.”

  “I’ve discovered something over the past little while. I’ve been looking over my shoulder for so long, I forgot that sometimes I wasn’t the only one whose life he was screwing with. I used to have friends, and we all had each other’s backs. They’ve moved on.” His gut twisted a bit at that. Not all his old dancer friends had moved on to good places, and he had to wonder if Cedric’s manipulations had just been too much for them, in the end. “Or I have. But it wasn’t always all about me hiding in hovels all alone.”

  Jed hugged him again, so hard, so suddenly, he squashed a surprised squeak out of Ira. “You aren’t alone,” he agreed. “We aren’t alone. You get that, don’t you?”

  Ira did. The Hen and Hog family was made up of some pretty special people.

  “Okay.” Jed kissed him, short and definitive, then stood back. “Go close up. I’ve got to get back behind the bar before Landon starts throwing a fit.”

  They went back to work, Ira going to each table to give them their bills and let them know Shelly would serve them for the rest of the evening. It didn’t take the full twenty minutes, so he spent some time behind the bar washing glasses. It had nothing to do with wanting to be close to Jed. Or with wanting to witness whatever was going on between Kearn and Mitch, who—shockingly—hadn’t disappeared the first chance he got. Ira couldn’t tell what they talked about—the bar was too busy and too loud—but eventually, Mitch left looking both chastened and thoughtful, and Kearn retreated to his office.

  At ten, he emerged, phone in hand, to ask if Ira was ready for his cab.

  Johnny held up a hand. “I already called one. He can share with me.”

  “What?” Ira frowned at him. Since when did Johnny ever leave before midnight?

  Johnny winked at him. “I have to get up early. Got a thing I have to take care of in the morning, so I’m off anyway. I’ll walk you up to your apartment. I can walk from there easily.”

  Ira started to refuse, but Kearn thanked Johnny, handed him some bills, which he informed Ira were a concession to sending him home early, and vanished back into his sanctum.

  “They don’t really give a guy a chance to argue, do they?” he asked Jed as he untied his apron.

  “If it helps, consider that they’re doing it for me. I’ll worry less if I know Cedric doesn’t even have the chance to bother you between the cab and your door.”

  “Fine. But I’m not a naïve little boy who can’t take care of himself.”

  “No one thinks that. Just take the ride and say thank you. You need to get over this idea that you have to do it all yourself.”

  “But why is Johnny getting involved?”

  “Because he’s got a big heart.”

  “Or he wants something.”

  “Not everyone does, you know.”

  Ira grimaced. Maybe Jed was the naïve one. In Ira’s experience, most everyone wanted something in return for being nice. Jed was the first person Ira had ever met who was nice to people for the sake of being nice.

  Jed broke into his thoughts by kissing his forehead. “Just go home, take a shower, play with your clay, and I’ll come over once I’m home and clean. Your bed’s more comfy than mine.”

  That actually sounded like a good plan. Ira went up on tiptoe to kiss him properly. “All right. I’ll see you around three?”

  “At the latest. I suspect Kearn will send me home first, and frankly, I’m okay with that tonight.”

  “Call before you leave here. I want to know when to expect you.”

  “Got something in mind, do you?”

  Heat flashed up Ira’s neck and into his cheeks. He drew Jed down to whisper in his ear. “You know I do.”

  “That’s my little bird.” Jed kissed him hard and stepped back.

  “You’ll call?”

  “You know I will.”

  “Break it up, you two!” Johnny called. “Cab’s here. Let’s go, little buddy.”

  Ira shook his head. It was ridiculous that he let Johnny get away with half the stuff he said to him. But the guy was so good-natured it seemed indecently cruel to call him on it. Like slapping a puppy for wagging his tail too hard.

  “I’m coming.”

  They hustled through a light dusting of snow falling, the first of the season, and crowded into the back of the cab. Ira made a point not to glance up or down the street. Not to look for Cedric. He just wanted, for one minute, to feel normal.

  The cab ride was fast, since it was only a few short blocks. Johnny, predictably, made a sniggering comment about the pink-painted cinderblock first storey of Jed and Ira’s apartment building. Ira frowned at the cut zip ties and paused to straighten the garden fence, sad his measure had only been a temporary fix. Their nemesis was crafty.

  Johnny made gentle fun of him when he explained why he was fussing with the landscaping, then held the door open for Ira once he’d unlocked it. Ira didn’t look for Cedric, but he noticed that Johnny did. He also waited until the street door had clicked shut, securely, before he followed Ira to the stairs and up to his apartment.

  “Man. You hike up these stairs every day?” he griped. “No wonder you’re skinny as a rail.”

  “I also eat right and don’t drink a tub of soda every night,” Ira pointed out.

  “And you dance, so there’s that.”

  Ira almost tripped over the top step. “Who told you that?”

  “Jed. He said you took lessons. At the community centre. I was talking to Kimi about my little sister. She takes ballet at this really great studio. I think your teacher also teaches there. I mean, there can’t be that many dancers named Cobalt, right? That’s what I have to do tomorrow. Why I’m going home so early. For me.” His eyes clouded, but he shook his head. “Bring her to the studio, I mean. Anyway, I was talking about it, and Jed mentioned you took lessons. Was he not supposed to?”

  “No, I—” They had reached Ira’s floor, and he pushed open the door to the hallway. This time, he did glance up and down, thankful to see the hallway was deserted. “It’s fine. I just thought—” God. He was so paranoid. But then Johnny wouldn’t be the first guy to offer to be nice, take him home, then expect him to be “grateful.” Some people didn’t get that dancing was dancing. It wasn’t an invitation.

  “You all right, little dude?” Johnny peered at him, clearly concerned.

  “Fine, yeah.”

  They had just passed Mrs. Stanfield’s door when it creaked open. The tinkle of Scruffles’s collar and tags greeted him, and he turned. Mrs. Stanfield was holding the dog’s leash, looking hopeful, but her face fell when she saw them.

  “Hey, Mrs. Stanfield,” Ira said. “How are things?”

  “Oh, fine. Ira. Just fine. I was hoping I might run into Jed.”

  “Were you listening at the door again, Mrs. S.?”

  She grinned, no shame in the slightest.

  “You want me to walk Scruffles for you?”

  “Who’s this?” She peered at Johnny. “Where is Jed?”

  “Still at work, Mrs. S. This is Johnny. He’s a friend of Jed’s from work.”

  “‘A friend of Jed’s’?” Johnny gave him a look, then stepped over to Mrs. Stanfield’s door and held out a beefy hand. “Hi there. I’m Johnny. I’m a friend of Ira’s and Jed’s.”

  Scruffles yipped at him, wiggled out past Mrs. Stanfield’s slippered feet, and proceeded to sniff at Johnny’s shoes.

  Johnny said hello to him,
bent to scratch behind his ears, and Scruffles promptly lifted a leg to wee on his pant leg. He jumped back fast enough the splash of the pee landed on the floor, at least.

  “Scruffles. You know better.” Mrs. Stanfield tugged him back from Johnny’s leg. “I’d better get him outside.”

  Johnny threw his head back and guffawed. “I like that dog!”

  She grinned at him. “I’m very sorry about that.”

  “No worries. Puppies will be puppies. You just need to train him.”

  “I wish I could. He’s almost a year old, and he has not the slightest shred of manners.”

  “Probably why Johnny likes him,” Ira muttered, unlocking his door.

  “Hush, you.”

  “I can walk him if you want, Mrs. S.,” Ira offered again.

  “Oh no, dear. You look tired. I’ll just take him out to the planter. Don’t tell Jed.”

  Ira snorted. No chance. If only Jed knew he was waging his mini-fence war with the sweet little old lady in 406 and her teensy teacup mutt.

  Once inside his place, Ira hung his keys and coat on the hook by the door.

  “So.” Johnny scrubbed his palms together. “You want I should stay, little—”

  “Ira,” Ira snapped. “My name is Ira.”

  “Oh. Sure.” Jonny blinked at him. “I know that.”

  “So use it.”

  Dropping his gaze to the floor, Johnny stuffed his hands into his coat pockets and took a small step back.

  “Please,” Ira muttered. Damn it. He’d just slapped the puppy anyway.

  “Hey, no. It’s fine.” Johnny grinned at him, but the expression was less exuberant than usual. “I’m a bit . . . much.”

  “You were great tonight. A little unorthodox. But great.”

  That got the tail ends of Johnny’s smile to lift a little. “Right? I don’t like to see my friends getting shit on.” He shifted his gaze from Ira to rove around his apartment. “I like your place. Mine is so not this neat.”

  Ira looked over his apartment. His work area was reasonably tidy, but Jed left a swath of Jed-ness through the small space. Both bike helmets seemed to have taken up permanent residence on Ira’s kitchen table, and the coffee maker was in the middle of the counter.

  Jed’s ugly sweater and one of his knitted blankets were tossed over the back of the couch. A messy stack of motorcycle magazines and Jed’s laptop sat on the coffee table next to a half-full coffee cup. The cup itself was a homemade ceramic nightmare with a motorcycle painted in glaze on the side. Dribbles of dried coffee on the painted wood of the table led to where it sat, right next to a coaster. Jed loved that mug, and Ira liked that Jed would have to come to his place in the morning, at least, to have his coffee. Under the table, a pair of Jed’s thick wool socks lay balled into little sock corpses.

  Jed’s Birks sprawled on the welcome mat under the fire escape window like they lived there.

  Wherever I toss my Birks. That’s home.

  Ira smiled to himself.

  “Listen, I wasn’t kidding about having to get up early,” Johnny said, breaking him away from that little fantasy before it could fully take hold. “My little sister . . . You going to be okay?”

  Ira squared his shoulders and headed back towards the door to see Johnny out. “Yes. I’m fine. Thank you.”

  “No problem, little dude.” Johnny winked at him. “See you around, yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Ira shut the door firmly behind him, locked both locks, and set the chain. Now all he had to do was not go crazy waiting for Jed. He wandered the apartment, preparing to tidy it, but in the end, all he did was wash the mug and coffee maker, wipe the coffee table, and straighten the magazines. This apartment hadn’t looked so lived in since Landry had moved out. Ira kind of liked it this way.

  Jed was exhausted. Which was weird, since Kearn had, as he’d predicted, sent him home first. He was out of the bar shortly after midnight—hours before he normally would have been off on a weekend night—and he headed home along the soggy street at a quick walk. He’d be glad when he had his truck. Winter was so not his thing, and this first snowfall was only barely more snow than rain. He would be soaked through by the time he made it home.

  He was actually glad of the earlier hour, since the streets were, if not clogged with people, certainly not deserted. Some of Ira’s cautious paranoia had clearly rubbed off on Jed. He looked over his shoulder at least a dozen times, and peered through every passing windshield. The last thing he wanted was for Cedric to catch him unawares.

  By the time he was approaching their building, he was in awe of Ira. How had he lived like this for two years now? The fact he wasn’t completely around the bend with nervous tension was incredible. Of course the street the building sat on was deserted, heightening Jed’s irrational wariness to levels that made his heart pound and his legs a little shaky. He did swivel his head from side to side, checking every doorway and peering into the shadows like he expected something to jump out at him at any minute.

  “Looking for someone?”

  What?

  Jed whirled at the question. And came face-to-face with the barrel of a handgun—and Cedric an arm’s length behind it.

  “Jesus!” Instinctively, he swung at the gun, made contact with Cedric’s arm, but the snowy sidewalk confounded him and he slipped. Cedric shoved him, and he crashed hip-first into the concrete planter. Most of his weight landed on his arm on the pickets of the little garden fence. The metal tore through his jacket, the sweater underneath, and into the skin and muscle of his forearm.

  Six inches from where he’d impaled himself on the fence, the vandalized section shivered, then plopped over into the snow-covered bed.

  Fucking seriously? Are you kidding me right now?

  He tried to get his feet under him, but his hip throbbed and his arm screamed in pain, and he couldn’t quite get his legs to cooperate or his feet to find purchase on the icy sidewalk.

  Cedric moved in close, hovering over him, standing practically between his sprawled legs, holding the gun low, pointed at his chest.

  “We’re going to go inside now,” Cedric informed him. “And have a little chat about Ira and to whom he belongs, yes?”

  Jed snarled. “Fuck you.”

  “Come on.” Cedric leaned over to grab his good arm. The little fucker was stronger than he looked. He hauled, giving Jed enough leverage to get upright again, though not particularly steady. He wasn’t at all certain he could put weight on that injured hip. Warm wetness trickled down his arm, slicking the slide of his coat cuff against his wrist. The wound throbbed with fiery pain, and he cradled the arm close to his body.

  Some fucking hero he was. He aimed a weak-assed swat at Cedric’s gun hand, but Cedric scoffed and shook him.

  He was right about his hip. It didn’t want to cooperate, and he would have gone down again if Cedric weren’t holding him up.

  “Get your keys out.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “You think I won’t shoot you in the street?”

  “I won’t let you into the building.”

  “Then I’ll take the keys.” Cedric lifted the gun just enough to prod it into Jed’s groin, out of sight should anyone glance their way, but cold and hard against his leg. Jed knew enough human physiology to know if Cedric hit the main artery to his leg—and he could hardly miss with the gun pressed right there—Jed would bleed out long before help could get to him or to Ira.

  Fucker!

  “Fine,” he growled, and fumbled in his jeans pocket for the keys.

  “That attached to your balls, huh?” Cedric sneered. “Why am I not surprised?”

  Maybe he didn’t realize what the real threat of a gunshot in that area was. Not that it mattered. Whether Cedric was aiming for his dick or his life’s blood, the result would be the same.

  “Let’s go get our little poppet, shall we?”

  Jed’s stomach churned. It might be the pain of moving his hip or the throbbing setting in as
his heart pumped a little more blood out the gash in his arm with each thump that made him queasy. More likely, though, it was the way Cedric’s weaselly voice caressed the very idea of Ira that made him want to hurl. The man was obsessed and dangerous. Far more dangerous than Jed had ever imagined.

  “Move it.” Cedric prodded him with the gun barrel, and he shuffle-limped toward the front door of the building. He went as slowly as he dared. Maybe someone would come along. Maybe Jed could say something, even to a stranger, that would draw too much attention, make Cedric go away.

  Of course, no one ventured down the ill-lit street, and Jed had no choices left. He dragged out the keys and opened the lobby door.

  “You’re going to knock on his door and get him to open up for me,” Cedric informed him.

  “Bullshit.”

  “Don’t fuck with me. It’s easier to do this without making a lot of noise, but I’ll shoot you if I have to. Who protects him then, big guy?”

  He had a point.

  Maybe it was lucky Jed couldn’t go fast with his creaking hip. At least it gave him plenty of time to come up with a plan of his own as they labored up the first four flights of stairs.

  When they reached the fourth floor, he peered through the glass and just about melted with relief. Ruby was stepping out of her apartment, garbage bags in hand. Jed gripped the door handle. He pulled in a deep breath, prepared to shove the door open. If he alerted her somehow, warned her— The gun barrel pierced his thoughts, digging into the flesh next to his spine.

  “Do not,” Cedric warned.

  Jed swallowed and nodded. Ruby was practically on top of them. If she lifted her head, she would see them through the small window in the door. Her dark curls bounced as she walked, reminding Jed of Tess’s when she was especially excited and jumpy.

  He couldn’t involve Ruby. She had kids. They needed her. He backed away from the door, thinking furiously. He couldn’t go to Ira with Cedric in tow. He didn’t doubt Cedric wouldn’t hesitate to hurt either one of them. All he really needed from Jed was access to Ira. Once he had that, Jed was worse than useless to him. He was a danger. Cedric would put him down.