by Brandon Witt
Something about Vahin’s words didn’t ring true with his expression, and they didn’t help Marlon determine if he’d already messed things up before they really got started. “Nah. I should’ve said… something more than I did.”
The room fell silent, and Marlon couldn’t meet Vahin’s gaze any longer.
After several more awkward moments, Vahin spoke again. “So you came here tonight to tell me that’s why you went radio silent?”
Marlon nodded, then quickly glanced back at Vahin. “No. Well, not only that. I’d like to see where we could go. You and me. Go on some real dates, or something. Maybe….”
Vahin laughed. “You look like these words are killing you.”
“I’m not a big talker, Vahin.” Marlon shrugged. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want what I’m saying.”
He smiled, at last. “So you came here to tell me you’d like to see where this could go. Whatever it is between us.”
“Yeah.” Hearing it spelled out like that made it sound so juvenile. Stupid, both to have made such a big deal and to even need to talk about.
The relief on Vahin’s face helped Marlon feel better. “Good. I’d like that too.”
“Really?”
Another smile. “Oh yeah.”
Marlon couldn’t wipe away the smile that he was certain was ridiculously wide. “Good.”
They both sat there, staring at each other. Finally, Vahin let out a small laugh. “I feel like we’re supposed to hug or something.”
That was all Marlon needed. Without another thought, he rose, closed the small distance between them, and pulled Vahin, who’d started to stand, into his arms and kissed him.
The kiss wasn’t overly heated. It wasn’t full of clashing teeth or accompanied by straining erections like their kisses before, but more tentative, more questioning. And yet it had a soothing aspect to it.
He pulled back, searching Vahin’s eyes, then kissed him a second time, then a third.
Still in his arms, Vahin let out another laugh. “I’m a little nervous or scared or something.”
“Me too.” Marlon grinned back at him. “I think maybe that’s a good thing. At least this is something more fun to be scared over than the prospect of walking back into work tomorrow.”
Vahin’s expression fell. “Oh.” He shook his head and pulled away slightly. “I forgot.” He laughed hollowly. “I can’t believe I forgot, even for a second.”
Marlon had too, forgotten that something had been wrong before he’d gotten here. He released Vahin, who sat back down on the sofa and patted the leather cushion beside him.
“Here, sit.”
Marlon did, a new sense of dread filling him, though he wasn’t sure why.
Vahin took a deep breath, then let it out. He looked exhausted again. “So your partner, Officer Morris, came to see me at Mary’s tonight.”
Marlon sat in dumbfounded silence as Vahin told him about nearly getting arrested by Andrew and Greg. Rage filled Marlon with every new detail.
Then the cop in him showed up and pushed aside every unhelpful emotion that threatened to overtake him. He asked Vahin to get him a pen and paper, then had him repeat the story again. Three more times, as Marlon jotted down every single detail.
By the time all the words had been spoken, there were only four hours until Marlon had to report to his shift. After giving Vahin a kiss good-bye, then a promise he’d see him that evening, Marlon went home, brewed coffee, pressed his uniform, and got ready for battle.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Vahin Arora
Steven’s knees bumped Vahin’s as he twisted in his swivel chair. “Sorry.”
Vahin rolled his eyes and tried to scoot back, but his chair was already against the wall. “It’s okay. We could’ve met somewhere else.”
Steven shook his head. “Nope. I could hear it in your voice. You were trying to keep from coming back into Mary’s.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
Steven glowered and cocked an eyebrow.
Vahin couldn’t suppress a chuckle, which was surprising, considering how much like a pile of shit he felt. “Well, at least not like you’re implying. I wasn’t trying to avoid Mary’s. I just don’t think it’s a good idea to be here right now. Less than a day after….”
Cheers erupted from behind the office door—apparently whatever game was on the TV was going according to plan.
“That’s what I mean. Avoiding. All of a sudden you feel like you don’t deserve to be here. We’re your family. And not the kind that’s going to turn our backs on you.”
The words stung, hitting Vahin’s fears as if he’d been wearing a bull’s-eye. “You’re about as subtle as ManDonna.”
Steven shrugged. “Screw subtle. We’ve known each other too long. And I’m starting to get a cramp from being in this tiny office with your hugeness and not able to move properly.” He bashed their knees together, this time intentionally. “I know you. I know you’re beating yourself up, and I have no doubt this is triggering being severed from your family.”
Despite knowing Steven’s words came from a good place, a place of genuine love and care, they dug a bit too deep for Vahin’s liking. “You’re kinda hitting below the belt here. I’m beating myself up enough—”
“Exactly! And you need to stop. It wasn’t your fault for being gay and not measuring up to your family’s religion, and it wasn’t your fault that you fell for a fake ID.”
Vahin held his breath before slowly releasing it. Arguing with Steven was pointless, and he meant well. Hell, Steven was showing him more love than his biological family had shown him. But it was just a bit too soon. And whether Vahin’s frustration was aimed at his family, Steven, or simply a distraction from the past many hours, he wasn’t sure. Nor did he really care at the moment. “Great! So it wasn’t my fault. That means I can start my normal shift here in a bit?”
Steven’s cheeks reddened, and he glanced away but seemed unable to find anything to focus on.
Maybe Vahin was the one who was hitting below the belt, and the last person he needed to take his frustrations out on was Steven. “Sorry. I know I can’t work today. I know I won’t be able to work here again.”
Steven’s gray-blue eyes met Vahin’s once more. “We don’t know that. Let’s see how this all plays out. You said Marlon sounded hopeful.” Vahin started to interject, but Steven didn’t give him a chance. “If the ticket holds up, then yeah, I can’t justify keeping you on staff. As it is, with whatever fine Mary’s is going to have to pay, our insurance is going to go through the roof.”
Vahin felt another spike of guilt; though the fines he possibly faced as the server were high, he knew they were nothing compared to what Mary’s might have to pay. And that was money they couldn’t afford to lose. “I’m not going to ask you to hire me back, and I’ll help pay the fines that come down. I might have to do it over time, but I’ll pay you back. Every cent.”
Steven waved him off. “None of that. This is part of serving alcohol. It’s a risk that I knew about going into it. We survived the stings that went on a few years ago, so our record is solid. It’s not like this is our second or third offense. That would be a different story.”
That might have alleviated Vahin’s guilt if it had been a normal sting, but it hadn’t been. He wasn’t fully sure why, but this had been about him. Maybe more about Marlon and his horrid partner, but about him, nonetheless. “Well, I’m not going to argue about it. I’ll pay you back if Mary’s is charged.”
It looked like Steven was going to protest again, but his expression changed. “So you’re certain you asked for ID before the kid took a drink?”
Vahin tried not to let his frustration show. “We’ve been through this a billion times. The story isn’t going to change. I’m 99 percent certain I served the kid a drink, but then asked for his ID before he actually took a sip. Marlon seemed to think that was in my favor, but I still served the drink before asking for proof of age, and the kid drank before I saw any.
”
Rehashing that part made the walls of the tiny office begin to close in, and he could tell Steven was getting ready to go through every minute detail for the hundredth time. Vahin couldn’t do it, not even for Steven. He stood, causing Steven to try to back up to make room. “Thanks for letting me know you’re in my corner. It truly means the world to me, but I’ve gotta get some fresh air.” He paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Actually, is ManDonna coming in today?”
“No drag shows today, you know that.” His eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Maybe I’ll just call her, er… call Daniel….” Despite seeing Daniel out of his drag persona countless times through the years, he still thought of him as ManDonna.
“I can tell you’re thinking something.” Steven stood, his voice growing hopeful. “Did she see something that might help get this thing dismissed?”
“Hmm?” Vahin glanced over, his face so close to Steven’s he could almost feel the hairs of Steven’s beard. He opened the door and stepped through before turning back, the cheer and brightness of the restaurant not permeating past his eyes. “No, she was in the middle of a show. I’m sure she didn’t see anything. I’m going to call her… er, him, and ask to talk to his husband.”
“How could Hershel help? He wasn’t even—” Steven’s eyes grew large, and he scowled. “You’re moving too fast, Vahin. You don’t need to look for a new job yet. Wait and see what happens.”
“I can’t. I need to prepare for reality. And if I’m working for Hershel’s construction company, at least I’m still in the family. Kinda.”
“You’ll always be in the family.”
Vahin forced a smile.
Steven’s expression changed again, his smile growing. “Although, if you and Marlon stay together and you end up working for Hershel, you’ll be halfway to the Village People.”
Vahin tried to connect the dots. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He rolled his eyes. “Come on. Marlon’s a cop. You’d be a construction worker. You’d just need to find a cowboy and an Indian and you could go on tour!”
“Oh. My. God.” Even as he groaned, Vahin couldn’t help but chuckle. “I swear, you’re a moron.”
Vahin couldn’t make the call. He kept trying to convince himself that his unwillingness to take that step toward construction work was a sign he knew everything was going to work out. However, he wasn’t the optimist, at least not in this situation. Marlon seemed hopeful, and Steven did as well. Vahin, on the other hand, couldn’t get past that sinking feeling in his gut.
Though, to be fair, that sensation might also simply be his inability to stop the mental replay of the events from the night before. Chances were, even had Pat not interrupted, everything would’ve been fine. Probably. He’d have been taken down to the station and ticketed there.
Probably.
He kept seeing the other officer’s hand on the handle of his gun. Officer Holland. It had just been a show of force. An intimidation move. Nothing more than the hollow act of a bully.
Probably.
Vahin wasn’t sure he would have been able to keep his cool for much longer. He didn’t think he would’ve fought back if they’d tried to get him in the backseat of the cop car, but he wasn’t entirely certain of that.
But Pat had shown up. All the could’ves or might’ves were pointless and did nothing more than add tension to his already stressed-out system.
And despite his best attempts, he could hear his father’s voice as clear as it had been seventeen years ago. That his choices would lead to death, to shame. That had simply been about him being gay… well, nothing simple about that, but before he’d become a bartender or even had his first sip of alcohol.
He was proving every one of his family’s words to be true.
It was that thought that kept him from finding a different bar, any bar other than Mary’s, and getting lost to day-drinking. After driving past several, Vahin turned into the grocery and parked his car. If not alcohol, then food.
At the checkout, he stared at the ingredients in the cart. Lamb. Cardamom. Turmeric. Ginger. Garam masala. On and on. All these years later, his mother was still with him. Even after her rejection. What he’d been planning to make hadn’t been a surprise; he hadn’t wandered through the store magically picking out spices, but neither had he made the connection to home as clearly as he did at that moment. It was nearly enough to cause him to leave the cart and go grab a burger instead.
He didn’t.
Though whether it was comfort or punishment he sought, he wasn’t certain.
Hours later, with the aromatic spices filling his apartment, Vahin still wasn’t sure what sort of self-abuse he’d set himself upon. He hadn’t shed tears, though they felt near. There’d been some wetness during the chopping of two onions, but that didn’t count.
With every fresh ingredient, he relived that day, so many years before. The relief he’d felt when he’d confided in his oldest brother. The betrayal after his brother had run to their mother and father. The shock when his oh-so-modern and newly Americanized parents put their reputation in the homeland above any affection for their youngest son.
The years contracted while he cooked and made it impossible for Vahin to separate his eighteen-year-old self from the thirty-five-year-old man he’d become. The closer the meal came to being complete, the more he gradually succeeded in placing those memories and hurts back into the hidden closets of his soul.
When Marlon texted that he’d left work and would be at Vahin’s in less than an hour, Vahin had his hands messy with arranging the layers of rice and lamb curry, which was the only reason he didn’t immediately call and ask for details. Actually he also wanted to see Marlon’s face and expressions when he spoke. Just in case he was trying to sugarcoat something.
“Holy fuck.” Marlon pulled back from his welcome kiss much sooner than Vahin wanted and looked toward the kitchen. He took a deep breath and sighed before turning back to Vahin. “You cook?”
“Yeah, I do. It’s been a while, but I felt like I needed it today.”
Marlon breathed in again. “Please tell me that I can get in your pants and in your oven tonight.”
Vahin laughed. “I don’t think you meant that how it sounded.”
Marlon kissed him, longer this time. Long enough that Vahin’s body relaxed for the first time that day. Long enough that after a third kiss, he felt Marlon’s stiff form mold against him as well.
“Man, I needed you.” Marlon rested his forehead against Vahin’s, then straightened suddenly. “This. I mean. I needed this today. You, the food, the kisses, the….”
Vahin laughed again. “Freak yourself out there, Officer?”
Marlon looked sheepish, an expression Vahin was surprised he was capable of.
“I needed it too.” Vahin gave him a quick kiss, then pulled back. “As much as I want to strip you naked, if I don’t tend to the food right now, it’s going to be ruined, and I spent way too much money and time for that to happen.” Vahin moved away from Marlon and headed back to the kitchen, still speaking over his shoulder. “Plus, I’m going to grill you on everything that happened today. I need details.”
Marlon followed him, started to take a seat, then paused. “Can I help with anything?”
“Nah, just sit. The rest is easy, and we’re close to being done.” Vahin gestured to the fridge. “There’s beer if you want some.” He grinned at the look of relief on Marlon’s face.
“God, yes.” Marlon walked over and opened the refrigerator. “One for you?”
“Yes, please.” He’d been tempted to have one while he was cooking, but he’d been afraid he wouldn’t stop. With Marlon there, it felt different. He took a swig after Marlon twisted off the cap and handed him a bottle. He started to ask about what Marlon had found out, but Marlon spoke first.
“What are you making? It smells amazing in here. Kinda like Christmas or something.”
“That’s probably just the spices.
It’s lamb biryani. Something my mom used to make all the time. She used goat every once in a while, but I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about that.”
Marlon scrunched up his nose before he adjusted his expression back to neutral with a laugh. “Sorry about that. I’m glad you chose lamb, not that goat doesn’t sound delic…. Actually, no, I can’t lie about that. I’m glad you chose lamb.”
Vahin almost wished he’d gone with the goat, even though he would have had to go out of his way to get the meat. It would’ve been worth it to see Marlon force himself to eat it.
Taking his first swig of beer, Marlon crossed the kitchen and opened the oven door to peek inside. “So any other interesting ingredients I should know about?”
Vahin waited until Marlon looked over at him before responding. “Oh, you know, some pigeon livers.” He couldn’t hold back a laugh at the horror that spread across Marlon’s face. “No. Just lamb. You’ll be fine, you big baby. It’s delicious. You’ll love it.”
Marlon narrowed his eyes skeptically. “I think I might need to see your recipe.”
“There isn’t one.” Vahin tapped his temple, then pointed to one of the barstools at the kitchen island. “Enough about the food. Sit and tell me about your day. I need to know what to expect.”
Marlon’s face fell as he moved to take a seat.
“Oh shit. It’s bad, huh?”
“No!” Marlon raised a hand and nearly knocked over his beer he’d set on the island. He steadied it and looked back up at Vahin. “No. Nothing bad. But nothing definitive. I know you’re wanting answers, but I don’t have those for you. And I won’t for a bit, probably.”
“Okay.” Vahin forced himself to get plates and silverware as he spoke, trying to keep things normal. Trying not to panic. “Then tell me what you do know.”
Marlon took another swig of beer, and Vahin considered yanking it away to get the man to start talking. After he swallowed, he leveled his eyes on Vahin. “I talked to the chief. It’s in your favor that you asked for an ID before the minor actually took a drink. It’s also good that the ID was a passable fake. It didn’t have an unreal age, like one hundred or something. It also helps that Andrew didn’t….”