by Brandon Witt
Neither could he claim to have overslept, not at that time of day. Plus, he’d only slept three or four hours. The rest of the night, and all of the morning and early afternoon had been endless time in bed, or on the floor, or in the shower. He and Vahin had done about everything imaginable, except using his handcuffs or a baton.
Marlon could announce that having not switched positions for years, he was a bit sore and tender from the night before, and he needed to move slowly. The thought made him burst out a snort and experience a terrifying thrill all at the same time.
Truth be told, Marlon didn’t care. So what if he was late this once? He hadn’t wanted to come in at all. He’d much rather have continued lying in bed, tracing the curve of Vahin’s shoulders and ass. Feel the moments of lust-filled kisses sigh into gentle explorations of each other’s mouths that made his heart feel like… made him think that maybe… well, made him consider things he’d never considered before.
Taking a steadying breath, Marlon walked into the station. Just because he was late didn’t mean anyone would know what he’d really been doing. He wasn’t actually walking funny, or at least he didn’t think so. Giving a brief and normal—please, God, let it be normal—smile at the few people he passed, he walked to the locker room. He sped up a bit now that he was alone, rushing to the gray metal locker, then began to change.
He had his bulletproof vest nearly fastened when Greg entered the locker room. The officer had been stuffing something in his pocket but halted when he noticed Marlon.
Marlon lifted his chin. “Hey.”
Greg hesitated, then lifted his chin slightly. “Hey.” He glanced around, then turned without looking directly at Marlon again. “I, um… forgot something.”
Marlon stared after him as he left. Weird. Greg was one of the older cops on the force, one of the ones Marlon was pretty certain had an issue with minorities. He’d raised a stink when Charles Schmidt had been made chief. Greg had claimed Schmidt didn’t have enough experience but never directly said anything about the man being black, though Marlon thought it was pretty obvious. Still, Greg had kept his mouth shut about Schmidt after he got the position and had always been cordial to Marlon.
As he finished getting ready, Marlon tried to push Greg from his mind but was unable. It couldn’t mean what he feared. It couldn’t. Maybe the guy was just preoccupied or really had forgotten something. Right, because Marlon couldn’t read people instantly. Maybe his own worry was throwing him off, though, making him see things that weren’t there.
“’Bout time you show up.”
Pulled out of his thought, Marlon flinched at the voice. Shit, when had he gotten so jumpy?
“Didn’t mean to scare you, pretty boy.” Andrew crossed the room and held out a Styrofoam cup of coffee. “Saw you come in. Figured you must’ve had a late night and might need this. Don’t want my partner falling asleep and accidentally driving us off an overpass.”
Marlon took the drink like it was a bomb. Andrew had never brought him a coffee or said anything that might accidentally be construed as friendly or helpful during their months together. “Um, thanks. Sorry I’m late. I just—”
“Nope.” Andrew cut him off, which was good, as Marlon hadn’t been sure how he was going to finish that statement. “No explanation needed. I don’t wanna know. Trust me.”
He’d done a good job of pushing Andrew out of his mind since the night before. Not a perfect one, as Andrew had crept in from time to time, even in the moments lying next to Vahin, but Marlon had done his best to ignore the tingle of worry. However, it came rushing back full force as he looked Andrew in the eye. There was no pretending the man didn’t know or hadn’t added up the correct answer from seeing him and Vahin together.
That settled it. He’d have to talk to Andrew, get it out in the open. Like he had with Sam. But that had been different. Sam had been different. He’d been the kind of partner cops dreamed about—always had your back, no matter what. And he hadn’t been an asshole. When Marlon had come out to him, it hadn’t been easy, but he’d known Sam would respond in his typical Sam manner. And that was the problem. Marlon had always thought Andrew was so deep in the closet he’d need a map to find his way out. And, if that were true, it could make Andrew’s reaction even worse.
Maybe coming out to Andrew was not an option. Good God.
Maybe Marlon could think of a good excuse for him and Vahin being together and even holding hands, if Andrew had seen that much, which obviously he had. How did you explain holding hands with another man?
Fuck.
It was pointless. Andrew already knew; he had to.
Marlon would wait until they were nearly done with their shift; that way they wouldn’t be stuck in the patrol car for endless hours with Andrew making innuendo-laden comments.
They stared at each other for a few seconds, and Marlon nearly blurted it all out there, just to get it over with.
“Officer Barton, can I see you for a second?”
Marlon turned to see Chief Schmidt in the doorway.
Damn it. “You bet, Chief.”
Chief Schmidt gave a fleeting glance toward Andrew. “Wrap up in here, Officer Morris, and go wait by the car. Your partner won’t be long.”
“Yes, sir!”
The chief paused, obviously not missing the note of sarcasm in Andrew’s tone. But as in most things he did, Andrew kept it just shy of crossing the line. The chief narrowed his eyes, leveling a stare at the man that would’ve made someone more intelligent piss their pants. “I’ve about had my fill today, Morris.”
Andrew saluted.
The chief turned, muttering as he left the locker room.
Marlon started to look at Andrew, then changed his mind. “See you out there.”
“Yep. It’s gonna be a good day.”
Marlon didn’t respond as he walked away. The cheer in Andrew’s voice told him exactly what the day was going to be like and confirmed what his gut had already known. So much so that he didn’t wait once he closed the door behind him in Chief Schmidt’s office. “Everyone knows, don’t they?”
Charles Schmidt leaned against the edge of his desk and crossed his arms. “Yep. Sure do. Your little shit of a partner made sure of that.” He shrugged. “Actually I think only a few know at this point. Seems Andrew made a little announcement in the locker room this afternoon. Came in early to do so. Those who don’t know, soon will.”
Marlon’s shoulders slumped, and he let out a groan. He couldn’t do this. He was already the black cop. Or one of the black cops. Now he’d be the black gay cop. Fuck.
“I’ve pulled Morris in here already and read him the riot act, but you can see how well that went over. With his family connections, he’ll have to do something so—”
“I know.” Marlon waved him off, then stood straighter, realizing he’d interrupted the chief. “Sorry, sir.”
Schmidt just nodded. His tone took on an atypical fatherly concern. “Maybe this will be for the best. You know I don’t condone the gay thing, but living in secret isn’t good for the soul, son.”
“Yeah.” He really did sound like Marlon’s father. Marlon glanced up, meeting the man’s hard yet kind eyes. “I don’t know if I can do this, Chief. I’ll be nothing more than that black gay cop. Nothing else.”
The chief snorted. “Oh, you mean like I’m that black chief? The one who got my position because Denver needed to meet a certain number of coloreds, not because I’m the best chief Denver has had in the past thirty years?”
There was some relief that the chief knew part of what Marlon was facing. “Maybe if I simply had to face the gay thing. Be the gay cop, like Chip Moon. He does okay. But gay and black. With Andrew as a partner, I just—”
“Enough.” Chief Schmidt’s bark cut off Marlon and caused him to stand at attention. “Nothing new, Officer Barton. So you got another label. Big fucking deal. This isn’t new to you. You’ve always had to be better, stronger, and tougher to be equal. Now you have to do it twice
as much. Quit bitching and get better, stronger, and tougher.”
Somewhere deep inside, in a voice Marlon rarely allowed breath, Not fair! rang through him. He stamped it down. “Yes, sir.”
The chief’s expression softened somewhat. “And I’m working on the Andrew thing. I know you don’t think I am, but I am. Somehow a moment will come. I don’t care what color you are or what sex you like. No cop should face our job with that idiot by their side every day, especially not one of my best.”
Marlon started to respond, but then his throat tightened and he didn’t trust himself.
“Now get out of here. Your partner is waiting.”
Marlon turned and reached for the door.
“Oh, and Barton?”
Marlon glanced back at the chief. “Yes, sir?”
A grin played over the man’s lips. “Don’t shoot the moron today, no matter how much he deserves it.”
Five hours in and it had been one of the better days Marlon had ever had with Andrew. The tension was so thick he could barely see through the windshield, but the man had never been quieter. Even on the stops they’d made, Andrew either let Marlon handle them completely or stayed respectful. It was almost enough to make Marlon think the guy had potential to be a decent cop after all.
As evening arrived, clouds that had hung above the mountains most of the day rolled over the foothills and settled above the city, increasing the odd spring humidity. When at last thunder cracked and lightning forked through the sky, Marlon and Andrew were just leaving a situation at the 16th Street Mall that had taken the help of four other cops to handle. They hadn’t drawn the short straw and didn’t have to mess with booking the two strung-out teenagers who’d taken street sign poles to the store windows.
Rain began to fall as Marlon turned onto 17th and passed where the old Wrangler bar used to be. He kept his gaze from wandering over to the spot, as if looking at the old gay bar would rush in the conversation he’d been avoiding all day.
It seemed he should’ve avoided the street altogether. Andrew spoke just as they drove past. He motioned a little farther up to the pizzeria that used to be the old JR’s Bar & Grill. “It must be hard for you.”
From Andrew’s tone, Marlon knew this wasn’t going to go well, but he couldn’t stop himself from responding. “What must be hard?”
“You know. Seeing your old stomping grounds give way to yuppies with money who’d rather have restaurants and fancy grocery stores.”
Marlon tried to think what to say, but there was a strange onslaught of disjointed words and static that ran through his head.
Andrew didn’t wait anyway. “You know, here’s what I don’t understand. Why all the bashings around here lately? Why now? It’s not even that kind of neighborhood anymore, at least not as much.”
That kind of neighborhood. Not the gay neighborhood. Not like it used to be. Marlon tried to play the conversation out, discern where Andrew was headed. He couldn’t; there were too many options, and Andrew had taken a path Marlon hadn’t expected. It made him wish he’d been the one to broach the subject, to have it on his terms.
Be stronger, better, tougher. Too late now, Chief.
He decided to give Andrew the benefit of the doubt, deserved or not, and just jump into the conversation like this was something they’d spoken about several times before. “There used to be bashings at Cheesman Park back in the day too. Nothing new.”
Andrew didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, but that was when the gays used the park to hook up. That’s not happening here, at least not like it used to at the park. And, like I said, 17th is a lot less gay than it used to be.”
Again, it struck Marlon that Andrew had to be a closet case. How did he know so much about what used to happen at Cheesman? He hadn’t even been on the force in those days. Marlon wasn’t going down that landmine-filled trail, though. Plus, Andrew had actually said gays, not homos or faggots. Maybe they could have a real conversation for once.
Marlon focused on keeping his voice calm, though his heart was making it hard to breathe normally. “I think it’s a backlash. Marriage equality was passed almost two years ago. Homophobes are still angry about it, and they want to make someone pay. They see someone coming out of one of the gay places that are left and follow them.”
“Gay places?” Andrew pointed out his side of the window as they drove past Mary’s. “Like that one?”
Marlon hesitated. He knew Vahin was there. He almost expected him to be at the window, staring out, waving at Andrew like a one-man gay pride parade.
“Yeah, like that one.”
“Huh.” Andrew leaned forward and craned his neck around staring through the rain at Mary’s in the distance. “I wonder what goes on in a place like that.”
Marlon didn’t respond and wiped a bead of sweat that rolled down the side of his face.
Andrew sat back in his seat and looked out the front window. “What does go on in a place like that, Marlon? Do they have bushes in the back for you all to do the same stuff that used to happen at Cheesman?”
And just like that, the quasi-neutral tone was gone, and the Andrew he knew was back.
Despite Chief Schmidt’s words ringing in his ears of being better, Marlon allowed his tone to match Andrew’s. “You tell me. You seem to have a pretty good idea of what happened in those bushes. Did you have a favorite one?”
Andrew laughed. A laugh that sounded real.
Actually, no, Marlon realized. It was a laugh of victory. He’d given Andrew exactly what he’d wanted.
Andrew ignored the jibe, but venom dripped from his voice. “Saw your boyfriend last night. Big guy. You like them pretty, huh?”
Marlon almost made a comment about Andrew thinking a guy was pretty, but the fact of him talking about Vahin gave Marlon the chills.
“He’s an interesting… color too. Wouldn’t you say?”
Marlon glared at Andrew, not attempting to keep the warning out of his voice. “Watch what you say next, Morris.”
Andrew grinned. “Hmmm. That sounds like a threat. I’m just merely saying that you’ve made a point of protecting illegals on multiple occasions when I’ve attempted to follow the law. It’s caused me to wonder about your loyalties. Our country is under attack, if you haven’t noticed. And your boyfriend kinda looks like—”
Marlon yanked the steering wheel to the right, jerking the car to the side of the road, then stomped on the brake. “Like what, Andrew? Vahin looks like what?”
Another grin, this one bigger. “Vahin? Unusual name. Guess that answers that question.”
Shit. God, he was an idiot. “You need to watch what you’re implying, Andrew.”
For a second, Marlon thought he saw a flash of fear in Andrew’s eyes. They both knew Marlon could put the man’s head through the window without straining a muscle. The expression faded as quickly as it came. They also both knew Marlon wouldn’t do such a thing, as much as Andrew might wish he’d try.
“I’m not implying anything, Officer Barton. I say what I mean. You’re the one living a double life, not me.”
Marlon slipped the car into park. “That was my business. And you were out of line spreading it all over the station.”
A fake confusion filled Andrew’s voice. “What? Was it a secret?”
Marlon clenched his fist in his lap.
“I swear, Marlon, I had no idea that was a secret. You never tell me anything, so I figured if I knew something about you, the rest of the force had to know already. I was just making conversation. I can’t help it if you don’t open up to me like you did Sam.” His voice lowered. “Was that why Sam moved? Did his wife find out about you two getting all… what’s the PC term… homoerotic in the backseat?”
Marlon felt his short nails dig into the palm of his hand, and he squeezed tighter. It took all his willpower to keep silent. Sam had moved to be closer to his wife’s family back East, as his mother-in-law was ill. It was ridiculous to let Andrew’s accusations about his old partner get to him. Sa
m wouldn’t have cared; he would have laughed them off, especially coming from someone like Andrew.
“Now, you know I’m open-minded, and I don’t mind sharing my space with you, but I will have to ask you to shower separately from now on. I don’t want my body to become a distraction or get in the way of your professional feelings about me. I guess I’m not as open-minded as Sam was.” Andrew readjusted his position, angling his body toward Marlon, but let his hand rest on his seat belt release. “Things need to stay professional, and in that manner, I’m going to start taking a bigger lead at times. I have genuine concern that your relationship is impairing your ability to see people as the threat they are to our community.”
Marlon couldn’t bite his tongue any longer. “What the fuck, Andrew? You know that’s a bunch of shit.”
Andrew just shrugged. “Maybe not. I was surprised to discover that I wasn’t the only one you were keeping secrets from. When I mentioned to a few other officers my experiences with your unwillingness to ask for identification at certain times, they seemed as concerned as I feel. Especially when I brought up your boyfriend’s… Vahin, was it? Vahin’s appearance. Others noticed a clear conflict of interest there.”
Despite his fury, this threw Marlon, and he was certain the chief hadn’t heard this part of the gossip mill yet. And Marlon could bet which “few” officers Andrew had spoken to about his “safety concerns.” The anti-Muslim and anti-immigrant sentiments were high, despite the chief’s efforts to keep his force neutral.
“You’re a bitch, Andrew.”
Andrew didn’t rise to the bait. “And I’m keeping my eye on you. And the chief. Keeping our city safe is a matter meant for higher positions than his.”
Marlon glared at the fucker for several more seconds as he got his tongue back under control, then put the car in gear and pulled back out onto 17th. No wonder the chief was being so careful. Marlon hadn’t considered the senator uncle would do more than guarantee Andrew’s job and might go after the chief’s position.