by Thom Collins
Dale had read that statement. It was a shallow gesture, absolving the production of responsibility while offering scant compassion for the murdered boys. “It was bullshit. Listen to the noise out there. It obviously did no good. We need to say something.”
“Forget about it,” Elton said dismissively. “Your job is here, playing a part. Focus on that.”
At last, they broke for lunch. Dale’s trailer was on the back of the school building, farthest away from the protestors, but even there he could hear the horns and whistles.
He had a headache. Hardly surprising. He swallowed two painkillers and turned on the TV, hoping to drown out the noise. There was a talk show on. Four people sat around a table, offering noisy, underdeveloped theories on the correlation between real life violence and what was seen on screen.
“It’s Roxanne Maxwell who I feel most disappointed by,” the lead mouthpiece said. “That such a wonderful, classy actress would demean herself by appearing in an awful show like this Blood Stone thing.”
“Opinions are like assholes,” Dale said, turning off the TV. Everyone might have one but after a morning from hell, he didn’t want to listen to these loud-mouthed broads.
There was a knock at the door. Aaron Oxford entered without waiting for an answer. Oh, Aaron—cute, available Aaron. The last thing Dale felt like was sex, which was the only reason Aaron came knocking around lunchtime.
“Hell of a day, eh?” Aaron leaned against the kitchen counter, brushing his fingers down the front of his T-shirt. Caressing the taut muscle beneath.
“Only halfway over.” Dale sighed. He opened the fridge and took out a Diet Coke.
“Elton just blew another stack.” Aaron chuckled. “He’s bawling out the sound guys. Like any of this is their fault.”
“He needs to calm down. He’ll have a stroke if he’s not careful. With all the booze and his temper, he’s a prime candidate.”
“Roxanne hasn’t helped. Cheeky bitch. Leaving everyone else to deal with the backlash.”
“Listen, Aaron, I could really do with some time alone right now. My head is killing me and I need to get it together for this afternoon.”
Aaron’s smile wavered temporarily. He puffed up his chest further and narrowed his sexy eyes. “I know a good stress reliever. Let me take care of you.”
Dale held up his hands. “Any other time and I would love to. You know I would. But not today.”
Aaron licked his lips and grinned. “How about a blow job? Just lie there and relax. You don’t have to do anything. I’ll take care of you.”
Dale shook his head. “Sorry, buddy.”
Aaron came closer, undeterred. “I love it when you come in my mouth. The force of it. The taste. Don’t deny me that. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
“Dude, really. It’s not gonna happen. Take no for an answer, won’t you?”
Aaron flinched, no longer smiling. Dale felt like the biggest asshole. Shit. He had nothing to be sorry for and yet Aaron was acting as if he were the one in the wrong.
Aaron shrugged. “Okay, whatever. It’s not like you to say no, that’s all.”
“Today I am. It’s no offense to you. I’m just not in the mood.”
“You’re always in the mood.”
“Not today.”
Aaron left without an argument. His parting look was enough to leave Dale feeling lousy. This wasn’t meant to be a big deal. Just a couple of horny guys away from home, helping each other out. It didn’t mean he was available for sex on tap. No emotional attachments. That was the agreement. For God’s sake, he made no promises and didn’t expect anything in return.
In the past, he was always careful about the liaisons he made on set. He chose his lovers wisely for their discretion and subtlety. Ensuring they set clear boundaries from the start. He must be getting old. He was getting careless. He’d fallen into bed with Aaron far too quickly.
Aaron was a really nice guy. Great-looking and the sex was hot. But Dale wasn’t interested in anything more than sex.
Now he didn’t even want that.
There was something else—someone else—he wanted.
Someone for whom he felt more than just a sexual attraction.
Matt Blyth.
A guy he’d only just met on Monday and who hadn’t been far from his thoughts since. Matt evoked feelings and emotions unlike anything he felt for Aaron. Unlike anything he’d felt for another guy. Ever. Strange feelings. Unusual feelings. Like falling in love. But it couldn’t be. That was impossible.
Dale pulled Matt’s business card from his wallet and looked at it for the millionth time. It was already creased and worn from handling. Last night, at the cottage, he’d lain on the sofa and turned it over and over in his hands. Summoning the courage to call his mobile. Never quite getting it.
Despite all the hints and not-so-subtle glances, he still wasn’t sure that Matt was interested in men at all, let alone him.
He looked up the company website. Benedict and Taylor. There was a great photo of Matt in the staff directory. Handsome in a dark blue suit, softly smiling. He looked so different from the disheveled sweaty boy he was used to seeing at boot camp. Suited and booted, clean-shaven—the contrast in images only made Dale want him more.
He read the brief biography. Where he came from. Where he went to college. The places meant little to him but the information made him feel closer to the handsome man in the photograph.
What are you waiting for?
It had been a miserable twenty-four hours. Thinking about Matt was the only brightness he’d had. What did he have to lose?
Dale grabbed his phone and dialed Matt’s number. His heart beat faster as he waited for it to connect.
“Hello.”
“Matt? Hi, it’s Dale. Dale Zachary. From boot camp. How are you doing?”
“I’m great. I doubt you can say the same. Tough couple of days, eh?”
“You saw the news then?” It made him smile. In a small, far from ideal way, Matt had taken an interest in what he was doing. “Not the kind of publicity we would have hoped for.”
“It’ll blow over. These things always do.”
“I hope so. These guys are angrier at us than the guy who’s actually out there doing the killing.” Dale took a deep breath. “Listen, I’m calling ’cause I’d like to take a break from all of this shit. What are you doing tonight? Feel like getting together?”
Silence. Oh shit. Totally misjudged this.
“I’m not doing anything. I would love to,” Matt said. “What did you have in mind? Hitting the gym?”
“No. God no. Something more relaxing. I was thinking drinks. Maybe something to eat.”
“Sounds good. Just the two of us? Or a group of people?”
“I don’t know that many people. It’ll just be the two of us. If that’s okay with you.”
“It’s very okay with me.” A pause. “Dale, can I just ask so we’re clear from the start. Is this a…date?”
Dale’s heart raced. “Would you like it to be?”
Boom. Boom. Boom. Heart thundering. Had time stopped running?
“Yes,” Matt answered at last.
Dale smiled widely. “Then, yes. It’s definitely a date.”
****
After the call from Dale there was nothing that could spoil Matt’s afternoon. Not even his boss, Edward Benedict, who told him to head over to the police station. An early morning drug raid had rounded up seven of their clients and the police wanted to interview them all. Annabel and Derek Reed were already there but the cops wanted to crack on with the next interview before the others were completed.
“Fine, but I need to be out of there by five-thirty. Annabel will have to cope on her own after that,” he asserted. It was her night on call. Let her do some work for a change.
Matt wanted to ge
t home in good time to prepare for his date. A date with Dale Zachary. Ha. That was one in the eye to Conrad and Annabel, who both insisted he was deluded in thinking Dale was interested in him.
Dale had made it very clear on the phone. It was a date. “With all the heat I’m getting over the show we’ll have to be careful. I don’t want to go anywhere too public where people might hurl abuse all night.”
“I would offer to cook but I’m pretty lousy in the kitchen,” Matt admitted.
“Don’t worry. I’ll ask around this afternoon and text you later when I find somewhere discreet. Does dinner sound good? Or would you rather go somewhere livelier? A show, maybe?”
“Dinner would be great. I’ll leave it up to you.”
Matt was beaming when he hung up.
He’d never had a real date before. Jamie had been his only proper boyfriend and his idea of a romantic night was pizza and a movie. Tonight would be a whole new experience, in all sorts of ways. He could hardly wait.
But there was a job to be done first.
The police station was a scene of chaos when he arrived. There were extra cops on duty to cope with the raids and the cells were all full. He checked in with the desk sergeant.
“I’m here for the drug interviews. Benedict and Taylor client.”
The harassed-looking sergeant shook her head. “You’ll have to take a seat and wait it out. All of the interview suites are full. As soon as one comes free, you’re next.”
Typical Annabel. She must have sold the boss a sob story about not being able to keep up with the demand. In reality, she could have handled this on her own. The police couldn’t process the suspects any faster than they were.
Matt took a seat and waited. He sent Conrad a text, informing him of his date. The reply came back immediately.
Fantastic news. Hope it goes well. Don’t forget to ask about a charity donation.
Hell, Conrad just wouldn’t quit. Matt put a reminder on his phone to ask Dale later. Maybe he would sign a photograph they could put in the raffle. Knowing Conrad, that wouldn’t be enough. He added another note to ask Edward whether the firm would help out too.
A shadow fell unexpectedly across him. “You’re getting to be a regular in here.”
He looked up. Jamie. In a crumpled blue T-shirt and jacket. His eyes were puffy and dark, as if he hadn’t slept in days.
Matt smiled, keeping it friendly. There was no point in being a dick about this. “I’ve seen more of you this week than all of the last three months. Were you part of this drugs sting?”
He nodded. “Just an extra pair of hands in the round-up. The operation has been ongoing for months. I wasn’t involved in that.”
That explained the tired eyes. He must have been up since three preparing for the dawn raids.
Now what? Jamie stood awkwardly in front of him. Their smiles were forced. The atmosphere was uncomfortable. Matt searched for something to say but even work-related trivia eluded him. He hoped Jamie wasn’t working up to another ‘let’s try again’ speech. Judging by the look on his face, he had something on his mind.
He opened his mouth to speak.
Just in time, the custody sergeant shouted over. “Matt, you’re on. Interview room four. Your client’s already in there.”
Perfect timing. Matt stood and smiled softly at Jamie. “Catch you later,” he said, hurrying for the exit.
****
Time didn’t make the pain any better. Seeing Matt again—twice this week already—hadn’t just reopened an old wound, it had made it bleed profusely. Watching him walk away caused a tightness in Jamie’s chest. A feeling of panic raced through him. He had to pause and take a breath to steady his nerves.
It was a huge mistake, their split, and he blamed himself. He’d been working too hard and had taken their relationship for granted. Matt had been neglected. Jamie got that. It wouldn’t happen again.
But Matt had been so certain, so cruel, telling him it was over. How could anything be over when the feelings were so strong? Seeing him again only reinforced that.
They needed to talk. Not here. That much was obvious. Matt clearly felt awkward speaking to him around the police station and wouldn’t open up. No surprise really, given it was Jamie’s job that had driven them apart. It was understandable that he had negative feelings about this place.
Matt wasn’t seeing anyone else. Not when he’d left him and not now. Someone would have told Jamie if he was. That bloody Annabel for a start. She would take great delight in informing him that Matt had a new lover. He still had access to Matt’s Facebook profile too. Though it had hurt when he’d first changed his relationship status to single, it was a comfort now to see it remain so. Matt didn’t post a lot but he was often tagged in photos posted by others. Jamie looked at those pictures with a mixture of dread and excitement. But there were no signs that he’d found a new man yet.
No. Matt was still very much single. Seeing him this week, after so long apart, maybe that was a sign for them to get their act together.
Jamie was man enough to make the first move.
No time like the present. He would do it tonight. Go around to Matt’s place after work. They would have that long-overdue talk. Put right their differences.
He had this weekend off so the timing was perfect. He would take Matt out. They could go up to Newcastle, to the multiplex cinema in town. Grab a pizza. There was a new Channing Tatum movie out this week. A perfect date movie.
Yes, he resolved. Enough messing around. It was time to win Matt back.
He headed to the locker room. He knew he looked like shit. He’d been up half the night. His eyes, which were naturally dark anyway, resembled two coal pits. But he had plenty of time. He’d go home, grab a couple of hours’ sleep. Have a long bath and a shave. Smarten up. He would look like a very different man when he knocked at Jamie’s door that night.
“Dench,” Richie Rogers, a detective constable in Jamie’s division, hollered through the open locker room door. “Wilmhurst is looking for you!”
“What for?”
“Fuck knows. But he’s got a real mean face on. Better not keep him waiting.”
Damn. It had been a long and difficult day. The last thing he needed was the inspector nagging him for a fuck up he wasn’t yet aware of.
DCI Wilmhurst was a tall, hook-nosed man in his late fifties. He was always immaculately dressed in three-piece suits and polished brogues. His tough, no nonsense attitude commanded respect from his team. Wilmhurst was a man who demanded efficiency from his staff. Mistakes may be human but Wilmhurst didn’t tolerate them.
He was typing as Jamie knocked on his office door. Barely glancing in his direction, he barked, “Come in. Sit.”
Jamie did as he was told, sitting patiently while Wilmhurst rattled the keyboard, designer glasses perched on the end of his hawk nose. Finally the inspector stopped and focused his scrutinizing gaze on Jamie.
“Good result with the drug squad today?”
“Yes, sir. Every last suspect was brought in.”
“Good. How did you mind working for a different unit?”
Oh no—tough question to answer without pissing someone off. What did Wilmhurst want to hear? It was no secret within the force that Jamie was climbing the career ladder. He’d been accused of brown nosing his bosses, but he saw every job as a chance to impress.
“I appreciate every opportunity I’m given to experience the full range of police work, sir.”
Wilmhurst took off his glasses and looked at him more closely for a good thirty seconds. “All right. You’ve got your wish. I’ve been asked to spare two of my officers to help out MIT investigating these murders in the city. I’m putting you forward.”
Jamie’s pulse quickened. “Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t know how long the secondment will last but I can’t let you go permanent
ly. I’ll make moves to get you back in a couple of weeks if they don’t release you first.”
“Thank you, sir. I really do appreciate your faith in me. This is a wonderful opportunity.”
“Hmm.” He put his glasses back on. “Two young men are dead. I don’t know what’s wonderful about that. Report to DCI Frank Redgrave at the city center station, seven a.m. tomorrow. I’ll see you in two weeks.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Secondment to the murder squad. Yes, the next step on the career ladder. He would do all he could to make sure he stayed up there.
Chapter Six
Getting ready for his date with Dale was a more hurried affair than Matt had hoped. He didn’t get out of the police station until almost six and was pissed to find Annabel had left at five-fifteen. He rushed home and showered, lathering up his muscles with his favorite Molton Brown shower gel—cracked black peppercorn.
He had shaved for work that morning. There was a dark stubble across his chin but he decided to save five minutes and omit the second swipe of the razor. Dale had a full beard anyway. A little five o’clock shadow wouldn’t bother him.
He dressed quickly. Snug cotton briefs, dark blue jeans and a black jersey. Dale had texted to say dinner wouldn’t be anything formal. Thank God. Matt spent all day in a suit. The last thing he wanted in the evening was to put on another shirt and tie.
He was finally ready a full fifteen minutes before his taxi was due. Time enough for a drink to steady his nerves. He wasn’t nervous exactly, it was more like excitement. A giddy sensation in his chest that spread all through his body.
He fixed a vodka and Coke and carried it into the living room, where he could watch for the arrival of his taxi. He dialed up a playlist of pop music on his iPod and let it play, dancing excitedly from one foot to the other.
Did Dale dance? Probably not. He didn’t look like that kind of guy. Nightclubs and gay bars were probably not his scene. Not that it was Matt’s idea of a good time either. He preferred the atmosphere of a good pub and live music to the hedonistic beat of a club. He’d learn more about Dale tonight and discover what they had in common.