With the garage closed and Noah still shaking his head at how thoughtful and touching such a simple gesture could be, they sat at the kitchen table, enjoying some ice cream and cookies.
“Stay here,” Noah commanded when he’d finished his dessert.
Oscar did as he was told, and Noah went to the master bedroom and rummaged around in his duffle bag. He found the plain box wrapped in a simple blue paper and headed back out to the kitchen.
He placed the box in front of Oscar, who looked at it, then at Noah, then back at the blue box. He picked it up and shook it. Noah couldn’t help but wonder why some people insisted on shaking presents. He watched as Oscar slowly removed the paper, trying not to rip it, he supposed.
Oscar’s smile grew as the paper was put aside and he examined the thin, square box. Noah had had the little wooden box lying around in his apartment for years, never throwing it away in the event of just such an occasion.
Noah was growing impatient for Oscar to open the box, but he said nothing, not wanting to spoil Oscar’s “process” of appreciating and then opening the box. When he did open the box, Noah relished the slow, sincere laugh that escaped from Oscar’s lips.
“Coupons,” Oscar stated as he took out the little booklet and flipped through it. “Free yard work, free batches of cookies, free inventory help,” Oscar recited as he read the “value” of each coupon, laughing even harder as he got to the last one. “Five free back rubs!” Oscar put the coupons back in the box and eyed Noah suspiciously, his smile alleviating any sense of worry on Noah’s part. “I, uh, didn’t see one in there for what I really wanted.”
“That,” Noah said as he got up and moved to sit on Oscar’s lap, “you get anytime you want. No coupon necessary.”
“Really?” Oscar seemed surprised, and Noah felt as if he’d missed something. “You’ll sing for me whenever I want?” Noah slapped at the strong chest and tried to get up, but Oscar held him fast. “I’m just teasing you, baby. You’re what I want, all the time.”
Noah settled against his lover and leaned forward for a kiss, tasting chocolate and vanilla but preferring the taste of Oscar much more.
Chapter Fifteen
AT TEN minutes past noon, Noah closed the door to his office and twisted the little plastic wand that would close his blinds. It wasn’t a common occurrence, but it certainly wouldn’t have anyone asking what he was doing. And even if they did, he already had a lie prepared. He would simply tell them that he was catching up on some work while having lunch in his office instead of telling them the real reason: he was doing a little bit of sleuthing on finding out Timmy’s last name, as well as any other information he could.
He started with the school’s website, hoping that—as had always been the case—the school was so far behind in updating it that there would still be old newsletters or articles or even meeting minutes listing the name of the DARE liaison. It was a long shot, but Noah figured it could yield another step, because he was pretty sure that there would be no information about Officer Timmy on the police department’s website.
He did his best to get the chow mein into his mouth with his left hand while scrolling through pages and pages of articles and parent communications and newsletters on the school’s website. Noah was stunned to come across Timmy’s surname after only five minutes. At this rate, he thought to himself, I might get to leave early. Oscar had decided to cash in one of his coupons tomorrow night, so Noah would have to go to the grocery store if Oscar was going to get his peanut butter cookies.
Timmy Gaut. Noah honestly couldn’t remember if he ever knew the officer’s last name while he’d been a teacher at the school, but he would never forget that smug face. Unfortunately for Noah, the article listed his title and showed a picture of the grinning officer sitting among a group of elementary-aged students, all of them proudly showing their DARE T-shirts.
Noah pulled up the Google page and entered in the first and last name, substituting Tim for Timmy, hit enter, and found next to nothing. Noah knew he wouldn’t hit on anything professional, since the police department probably did their best to prevent angry criminals from seeking their own form of justice against the cops they didn’t like. But he did think he stood a good chance of there being some sort of Facebook entry or marriage announcement or something that would contain those two names. Noah tried entering the names with and without quotation marks, but he found nothing at all. He thought that might actually be a good thing, finished his lunch, and went back to catching up on his work.
He gave little thought to Tim Gaut over the next five hours until he was entering his building and saw Paul’s door open again and a pile of moving boxes piled up outside the door. He hadn’t noticed a moving truck out back, which was where they were supposed to park, the huge warehouse door providing much better access for larger items. Figuring that Paul must have parked out front, Noah wondered if he was moving again. Did he and Cherie get back together? Why would Paul be moving if he’d just painted his son’s room?
As he walked to the door of his own loft, he heard the front entrance door open, followed by someone whistling. He turned quickly and saw none other than Tim Gaut juggling more boxes, his eyes on the top of the pile in his hands. Noah looked down at his key, turned his head slightly to the left, and got his door open as quickly as possible. If Paul was moving out again, it would make sense that his friend was helping him, but it didn’t make sense that Tim was bringing boxes into the building. Is Tim moving in with Paul? It seemed like a rather ridiculous idea, since Paul’s unit was only a two bedroom. If his son was getting a fresh paint job in his own room, then where was Tim going to sleep?
Once inside the safety of his loft, Noah thought about Oscar’s crazy idea that Paul and Tim were lovers—or ex-lovers—and that Tim had somehow pressured Paul into ignoring the truth about Noah so that he could continue the affair—and his plans to marry Cherie—and no one would suspect a thing. The idea had seemed so far-fetched that Noah had found himself laughing at the notion, pointing out the dozen or so flaws in that theory. Oscar, to his everlasting credit, had reminded Noah that many things in life were never what they seemed and that the far-fetched ideas were sometimes the only ones that made sense.
Noah couldn’t wait to tell Oscar that he might very well have been right about this particular theory. Noah wouldn’t be seeing Oscar again until tomorrow night, so he made a hasty plan to “lose” something in the hallway tonight so he could go out and learn more. He wouldn’t actually listen at the door, but if he happened to hear something as he searched for the lost object, no one would think he was eavesdropping.
It wasn’t that Noah was curious about who Paul might or might not be fucking anymore. Noah didn’t care about that at all; he had Oscar now, and Oscar was a better lover—and friend—than Paul had ever been. No, it was more that Noah loved a good mystery, and he was bound and determined to seek some answers he should have started looking for six years ago.
So with his dastardly plan almost complete, Noah made himself some dinner, took a quick shower, and settled in to watch some television. He could have been doing something more important, like checking his e-mail or balancing his checkbook, but he wanted a night off from his never-ending list of chores. So he parked himself on the sofa, turned on the television, and picked a channel, ready to catch up on some of the shows he hadn’t watched in at least a month.
Four hours later, Noah awoke with a start when he heard a banging sound in the hallway. Out of habit, he jumped up and headed to the peephole to see what was going on. The moving was still in progress outside of Paul’s apartment, except now Tim and Paul were lugging in weights and a weight bench. The equipment was all sitting in the hall as Paul and Tim grabbed pieces and headed inside.
Where the hell are they going to put all that? Noah found himself wondering whether Paul’s loft was bigger than his when he saw both men end up in the hallway together. He was about to go back to the sofa when he saw the time on the clock that was hangin
g in the foyer of his own loft. It was ten in the evening.
He was momentarily distracted by the fact that he’d been sleeping for the last four hours, but then he heard Paul’s booming laugh coming from the hallway. He looked through the peephole, and his eyes bugged out of his head.
“Remind me to be out of the house when you work out,” Paul laughed as he pushed Tim’s hands away from his crotch. “Otherwise, you’re gonna fuck me into an early grave.”
“Paulie, keep your voice down. The neighbors.”
Noah would never forget that voice, Officer Tim’s voice, calling him all sorts of names. On impulse, Noah grabbed his phone, his original intention to make a recording to play back for Oscar. But as he continued to listen and record—well, eavesdrop, actually—Noah figured out another potential use for the recording.
“There are only three lofts down here. Jenny’s a nurse and is working the graveyard shift. Don’t you remember her telling us yesterday? And the guy in that unit… haven’t seen him in days.”
Why didn’t Paul call me by name? Noah wondered. Then he realized the talking had stopped. He looked through the peephole and waited for the two of them to return to the hallway. He didn’t have to wait long.
“You think this will cause problems when Cherie finds out?”
“What’s to find out?” Paul was hefting another armload of free weights. “We’ve made the third bedroom look like yours, Artie is in the second bedroom… what can she say?”
Well, Noah thought, that takes care of that question. So Paul’s loft had three bedrooms. Noah figured they couldn’t be very big.
“Besides,” Paul continued, his voice certain and the look on his face quite self-assured, “once this lawyer I’ve hired gets enough witnesses to testify to how crazy she is, threatening me, using Artie as a weapon, I don’t think she’ll have any clout left to tell me how to do anything anymore.”
“You didn’t have to stay married to her for so long,” Tim said and disappeared into the apartment with Paul. They came back out a few moments later for the last of the equipment.
“Yeah, probably still be married to her if she hadn’t started asking too many questions about us hanging out together all the time.”
“Well,” Tim said, hoisting the last set of free weights, “thank God she’s out of our lives, more or less.”
“And God help us if she ever finds out she was just—”
A beard, Noah thought as he heard Paul’s door shut. Holy. Mother. Of. God. It was like some sort of soap opera! Noah stopped recording and ran to his phone to call Oscar, his heart practically beating out of his chest.
Oscar picked up on the third ring.
“Oscar,” Noah whispered into the phone.
“Noah? I can barely hear you. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Can I come over?”
“Of course,” Oscar said, his voice sounding halting and confused. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
Noah said good-bye and hung up his landline phone. Until he downloaded the recording onto his computer—or better yet, Oscar’s computer—he wouldn’t take the chance of doing anything to lose the unexpected confession.
OSCAR sat across from Noah, the cell phone in between them, and stared, mouth agape. “Holy shit!”
“I know,” Noah said, his own face probably still showing his shock.
“You need to take this to Cherie’s lawyer.”
“Why?”
“Because….”
Noah waited for Oscar’s answer, his eyes focused squarely on the handsome face.
“Even if what you say about her is true, and she’s the biggest bitch to walk the face of the earth, she’s still gotta be a better parent than either of those men could be.”
“I hadn’t thought about that,” Noah confessed. “I hadn’t thought much past this explaining why Paul wouldn’t help me.”
Oscar nodded and reached out to take Noah’s hand. “This,” he said, looking down at the phone, “is a lot bigger than just you now.”
Noah didn’t say anything, his mind awash with conflicting thoughts. He hated Cherie with a passion, hated what Paul had done to him, but his mind was at peace about all of that now. This one recording gave Noah all the answers he’d ever been looking for. But what Oscar was saying was true, as well. Cherie was just as much a victim of Paul’s deception as Noah had been. She’d trusted him, and he’d betrayed her as well.
“Baby,” Oscar said quietly after a few minutes, “Paul wants to use you to make Cherie look as if she’s an unfit mother, or, at least a mother with questionable grounds for wanting to limit Paul’s access.”
“But what if it’s because she suspects Paul and Tim were more than just friends.” Noah pointed at the phone. “What if it’s just because she thinks he’s gay. I mean, she’s no real friend to gays. She even—”
“I don’t think that matters here, Noah.” Oscar stroked the back of Noah’s hand. “He’s not being honest and he’s not fighting fair. He’s using you to perpetuate a lie.”
“I told lies about having been married and about having had girlfriends,” Noah argued.
“But you didn’t do it for any reason other than to protect your privacy, to stop people from focusing on your sex life and concentrate on your abilities as a teacher.”
Noah fell silent again. Oscar was right, as usual. Noah would have to make sure that Cherie’s lawyer heard this recording. Perhaps Noah would go and consult a lawyer of his own, just to be sure that he wasn’t putting himself—or Oscar—in any danger, legal or otherwise. Noah wasn’t filthy rich, but he was rich enough that suing him might seem attractive to either Paul or Tim. Noah sat back in his chair and smiled at Oscar. “You’re a very wise man, Oscar Reynolds.”
“You’re just figuring that out?”
“I guess I’ll contact a lawyer and follow his advice.” Noah picked up his phone and turned it off. He rose out of the chair and walked to the door that led to the garage. Oscar had been waiting for him, garage door open, so that Noah could use his anniversary present. The gesture still made Noah smile whenever he realized that his loft was not the only piece of real estate that he thought of as home.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Noah stopped, his feet halfway to his clogs. “Home,” Noah said.
“You come all the way over here and you think I’m going to let you leave?” Oscar wrapped his arms around Noah and pulled him back toward the kitchen. “Don’t make me get the coupons.”
Noah laughed and followed Oscar to the bedroom. “You don’t need coupons for that, remember?”
“No, but I need one for a back rub, right?”
“Well,” Noah said as they reached the bed and he pushed Oscar playfully onto it, “I guess I should give you a free sample. In the interest of helping you make an informed decision.”
“That does sound fair.” Oscar smiled as he sat up and removed his T-shirt, while Noah went in search of the massage oil. Oscar turned over and Noah climbed on the bed, straddling the slim hips.
“And because we really want your business, we would also like to offer you a complimentary front rub.” Noah poured some oil in his hands, delighting in the laugh that made Oscar’s bubble butt bounce up against Noah’s groin.
“Is there such a thing?”
“We offer a very specialized service,” Noah deadpanned. “We’re very cutting edge.”
“How could I possibly turn that down, then?”
Noah continued to rub his hands together, heating up the oil, although he was pretty sure the human torch would heat the oil up in no time. He placed his hands at the center of Oscar’s broad back and pressed firmly, pushing his hands out diagonally, then pulling them back in, pressing only his fingertips against the soft skin. Oscar moaned and Noah could feel him relax his muscles.
“Like that, baby?”
Oscar pushed his ass into Noah’s groin again and groaned. “Me like.”
“I’ll have to be sure that’s part of the ad
vertising. Let us bring out your inner caveman.”
Oscar laughed again. “Does the comedy routine cost extra?”
“For you? Absolutely nothing.”
“Hmmm,” Oscar moaned as Noah continued his slow push-and-pull strokes. “You’re going to make me fall asleep.”
“Shall I stop?”
“No!” Oscar tried shaking his head but couldn’t.
“If you do fall asleep, you can wake me up early in the morning to give me my tip,” Noah whispered near Oscar’s ear.
“Don’t you mean my tip?”
Noah slapped playfully at the soft skin of his lover’s back. “You’re developing quite a knack for innuendo, you know.”
“You’re a bad influence on me. My parents will be horrified.”
Noah removed his own T-shirt and leaned forward, his chest hair tickling Oscar’s back. “I love you,” he whispered against his ear. He sat back upright and continued his massage until he felt Oscar’s back muscles flex and strain.
Oscar turned on his side, as far as he was able, and got one arm around Noah’s waist, pulling him down onto the mattress. Oscar pulled Noah against his warm body and kissed him, his tongue seeking its partner immediately.
Noah kissed him back passionately until he felt himself growing uncomfortably hard. “I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t offer that service at this establishment,” Noah teased as he tried to push Oscar onto his back.
“How about if I let you use the whole garage?”
Noah made a show of considering the trade and then shook his head. “How about another weekend in Jasper when this whole lawyer mess is over and done?”
“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Oscar said with a grin. “Now, shut up and kiss me.”
Noah was only too happy to oblige, pressing their lips together as he felt Oscar’s erection straining against the well-worn sweatpants. He reached down and slipped his hand under the waistband, finding the hot, silky cock with no trouble at all. Noah moved his thumb slowly back and forth over the slit.
A Still, Small Voice Page 16