“You got more than sore eyes, Jimmy. What the hell happened to you?”
“Just let me in, okay?”
Frisano stepped back, allowed Jimmy inside, where he proceeded to fall to the sofa. He lay crooked, half-on, half-off. Like he couldn’t find his footing.
“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” Frisano asked.
“I told myself, if you were home, it was meant to be. If you weren’t, I was screwed anyway. Get it?”
Frisano didn’t laugh. “Do you?”
Jimmy stood up, wrapped his arms around Frisano. His face inches from the man. He could see the dark shadow of the man’s beard and he wanted to touch it.
“I thought I wasn’t going to see you until Sunday,” Frisano said.
“Change of plans. Dinner with the Frisanos is still on. But I want dessert first. Now.”
“Jimmy…”
Jimmy leaned in and planted a kiss on the man’s lips, a deep, soulful one that belied any influence of alcohol. This was pure attraction consuming him. Jimmy pulled the man in tighter, grabbing for his hard buttocks. Frisano returned the kiss, and Jimmy allowed himself to be taken back to the sofa. Frisano remained on top of him, kissing him, their tongues searching, entwining. Jimmy kissed his neck, feeling the roughness of his stubble. It sent sparks throughout his body. Suddenly he pulled back. He stared up at the man, at his dark, questioning eyes. He saw desire in them. No doubt a mirror of what Jimmy was feeling.
“Fuck me, Frank. I need you.”
“Jimmy…”
“Don’t question it. Don’t deny me. Not if you love me.”
It sounded like manipulation in his mind, but he didn’t care.
Jimmy didn’t wait for a response. He ripped at Frisano’s shirt, tearing it as buttons flew to random corners. He peeled away the material to reveal the man’s broad chest, the blanket of dark hair that covered it. So dense, so furry, he felt his cock stir within his jeans in response. It wanted to be let out, craved release. He watched Frisano shuck the remains of the shirt to the floor and slid a hand upon the man’s hot chest as he kissed him again, buried his face in his neck. Soon, Jimmy had removed his own shirt, was slipping his jeans off. He was more than ready. But it was the bruises on Jimmy’s torso that caught Frisano’s attention.
“You wanna talk about those?”
“No. Not now. I told you what I want. You. Wash this pain away.”
“Okay. But let’s move to the bed, you might be more comfortable…” Frisano was saying.
“No, don’t move me. I’m fine. Take me here. And don’t stop.”
Frisano stood and removed his jeans, his fine thick cock erect. Jimmy leaned forward and took it into his mouth, pulling the man forward again. Jimmy leaned back against the pillows, and he waited as Frisano’s knees sought purchase on the cushions. Once settled, comfortable, Frisano pushed his entire length deep into Jimmy’s mouth. Pulled back, pushed in. He repeated his motions while Jimmy moaned with pleasure. His nails dug into Frisano’s bare buttocks, urging him deeper. With his eyes closed, he concentrated on one thing only, pleasing his man. He sucked, kept at it, nothing able to stop him. Passion fueled his loins, his mind, his heart. He could hear Frisano’s heavy breath, knowing the man was close to climax.
Jimmy redoubled his efforts. He opened wider, clamped down. Sucked.
He stared up at his sexy lover. The furry beast atop him grunting.
“Oh shit, Jim…I’m close…so…ooohhh.”
Jimmy stayed in place, continued his motions. Felt the eruption before tasting his man. He drank him down, and only afterwards did he grant the spent cock a release. Frisano stepped back, dropped to the sofa, exertion turned to exhaustion. Jimmy smiled at him, switched positions to curl up beside him. He stroked his lover’s chest, losing his fingers within the thicket of his chest hair, teasing a discovered nipple. He knew that after days of going it alone, of tracking clues, of nearly missing out on an important family event, of getting beat up, he’d needed a connection. Someone who didn’t let him work independently. Someone who cared about him. Who made his blood boil when all his other senses became deadened.
Quiet settled between them, the darkness of the room comforting them. Jimmy could feel Frisano’s heart, still racing after his orgasm. One of the curtains was drawn and that familiar moon shined down on them. It cast a glow between them. Jimmy felt clarity wash over him. Like all the beers he’d consumed had left him, leaving him empty.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “I shouldn’t have come.”
“Jimmy, you can always call.”
Jimmy felt the touch of lips upon his forehead. “Call. Not stop by expecting a booty call.”
“I think what we do goes beyond a hook-up,” Frisano said. “But since we’re talking, want to tell me about those bruises? They’re purple now, probably yellow tomorrow. Someone beat you up good. You realize I have connections at the NYPD; we can find whoever did this to you.”
“It’s a case. It’s pretty much over. One last detail.”
“Let’s hope that last details doesn’t come with additional consequences.”
“I won, that’s all that counts. Everyone’s fine. The bad guy will get his comeuppance.”
“This related to that case you wouldn’t talk about, the kid who was abducted.”
“The kid is fine, reunited with both his parents. Just like it should be.”
Frisano grew silent, a hand stroking Jimmy’s wounded cheek. To Jimmy, it felt nice, real. Meant to be, as he’d hoped. “Ah, I get it now. Jimmy McSwain, sworn protector of families, to the rescue.”
“I didn’t become a private investigator to wuss out on people. I do it to help them.”
“Yeah, but at what cost to you?”
Jimmy shifted suddenly, releasing his hold on Frisano. He quickly got up, the man’s strong arm falling away in protest. He stood in the center of the room and wrapped his arms around his naked self. Felt exposed and vulnerable. He wished he hadn’t rejected the man’s embrace, knowing he should have burrowed deeper into those strong, furry arms of his handsome lover. Wasn’t that why he’d come here? So why had his body reacted this way? Suddenly shutting the man out? Why did it always have to be something with them?
“Clearly I said something wrong,” Frisano said.
“It’s not you. It’s the words. They’re just what my mother said, last night. About the cost.”
“Eventually Jimmy, you’re going to have to realize your obsession with your father’s case could destroy you.”
“Why does everyone not want me to solve this case? To let my father rest?”
“No one’s stopping you.”
“But no one’s helping either. It’s all on me. Meaghan’s got a baby coming and Mallory is moving to London to be with her boyfriend. Maggie…hell, she acts like she doesn’t even care why her husband was taken from her, or by whom. She finally told me, it was she who shut down the investigation. For fear of smearing his reputation, which is a fucking falsehood. Why am I the only McSwain who gives a shit that a good man was shot down in cold blood? In front of me, Frank. In front of a fourteen-year-old boy who couldn’t get the blood stains off him for days. And even then it was too late, too damn late. Because those blood stains were imbedded in my mind. I still see them. I still fucking see them!”
Jimmy reached out into empty air, his hands unable to grab something to throw.
Frustration found him. He cried out. Only to find himself wrapped up again in the warm, protective embrace of Frisano. Frank held him, kissed his neck, shushed him, all while Jimmy wailed. He had absorbed too much pain the last few days, mental and physical. He had seen a man dying who didn’t want to, another who welcomed death, with both men holding a connection to a father who hadn’t had the privilege to watch his children grow up. It wasn’t fair, none of it, and Jimmy was fast losing his patience. When did life start? When did you let go of what you couldn’t control? When did you open your heart?
“Jimmy, it’s going to be o
kay. All of it.”
“I know it is. Because I’ve got four weeks left, Frank. Four weeks till the anniversary.” He paused. “No more mourning. He gets rest. He gets his answer.”
“You mean you get your answer.”
“They go hand in hand.”
As though Jimmy’s words dictated their next move, Frisano’s fingers entwined with his. He felt the man’s pulse, felt the heat between them. Breathing heavily, Jimmy knew he needed to calm down, his explosion of words like a cleansing. His body grew slack, the tension leaving him. Frisano took him over to the bed, got him to lay down. A moment later he felt Frisano beside him, nuzzling in. The warmth of his lover, the rub of his hairy chest against Jimmy’s arm. Like a brush of comfort. He felt himself begin to relax more.
“Sorry for that rant,” he said, staring up at the ceiling.
“Now you want to tell me what’s going on?”
“Not yet,” Jimmy said. “I need you first to make love to me.”
His request was gentle, quiet, not the fierce urgency with which he’d arrived. Frisano kissed him, his lips and his neck, his hand running down Jimmy’s chest, brushing at his hair, following the sexy trail down his taut stomach. Jimmy winced with pain; the blows he’d taken from Fong were still fresh. Frisano kissed his cheek, a soft touch. Then he shifted, he readied himself, and readied Jimmy. Soon he was hovering above him. Jimmy looked up at him, sought his eyes. He stared into them while Frisano slid into him. He felt his own eyes widen, with surprise, with pleasure. With joy. How wonderful it felt, to connect, to love. Frisano waited. Jimmy nodded.
Soon the two men were lost in themselves. Basking in the glow of their heat. Rocking the bed, urging each other on. Kissing as their faces became closer. Jimmy drew Frisano down, his fingers digging into the man’s back. The rolling desire continued in waves, feeling this hot, beastly man thrust at him, into him. He clung to his muscled, hairy lover as the man pumped and gave, Jimmy accepting every motion. The world outside these walls no longer mattered. Only now did. Only this hunk atop him did.
“Yes, Frank…never stop…never…”
It seemed he wouldn’t. Their bodies grew slick with sweat, and the motions intensified. A cry erupted in the darkness and Jimmy didn’t know if it was he or Frisano. All he knew was that he was on fire, alive, like he hadn’t been in so long. He gave himself to the moment. Nothing mattered. Not life, not death. Just pure, hungry sex. He felt a passion rise within him, his cock continually stroked by Frisano’s heaving body. The rush of the man’s thick hair against his shaft was heaven. It lifted him up, emotionally, physically. His body arched, and he finally felt the release of their intense build-up.
Jimmy cried out, and felt a rush, followed by a deepening sense of contentment inside him.
Frisano continued, pushing at him with a hunger Jimmy wouldn’t deny. He wasn’t done.
Their eyes locked again, stayed focused. Their rhythm in sync.
At last, while their bodies were wet and their desire reached its peak, Frisano let go. Jimmy tightened his hold on the man, felt him explode. Dug his nails into the man’s back, grabbed at the patches of dark hair, urging him to a fuller climax. Frisano slowed, and then he pulled out, dropped to the bed with a cry for air. His chest heaved, as did Jimmy’s. That same moon outside still shined down on them, highlighting their afterglow. Like it approved.
“Wow,” Frisano said.
Jimmy leaned over, stretched an arm over Frisano’s chest. “Yeah, that’s one word.”
They lay there in the dark, bodies entwined, silenced by exhaustion. Jimmy felt his eyes closing, welcoming the call of the night. Bring on sleep, bring on tomorrow’s challenges. For once, his night with Frisano wasn’t ending in anger or conflict. He hadn’t said the wrong thing this time. Frisano hadn’t misread his motives. What they had at the moment was peace. Jimmy exhaled.
“You okay?” Frisano asked.
“I’m gonna stay the night, that okay?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Then, yeah, I’m okay.”
He hoped it stayed that way.
There was silence until Frisano spoke, his voice like a whisper. “Can I tell you something, Jim?”
“What’s that?”
“I really liked that shirt.”
Jimmy’s smile was evident even in the dark apartment. “Sorry. You look hotter with it off.”
To prove his point, Jimmy settled in beside his lover, and he somehow allowed himself to drift off, temporarily content.
Chapter Fifteen
Less a stakeout, more like just covering his ass. Still, Jimmy felt this was necessary. He wanted to be prepared.
It was probably the first time he’d done surveillance on people he would soon be sharing a meal with. A traditional Italian Sunday dinner, which from the looks of the neighborhood seemed on the verge of extinction. How many Chinese restaurants had he passed by when he got off the D train at 18th Avenue, how many Mexican taco joints? Sushi places. He considered whether any of the former were owned by Mr. Wu-Tin. Thank goodness Lenny’s Pizza remained, a neighborhood stalwart, stayin’ alive after being featured in Saturday Night Fever. This enclave was New York City as a microcosm. The subway ran aboveground. The roar of passing trains defining the sounds of the hood.
Such was the colorful, multi-ethnic world of Bensonhurst. Lots of famous people claimed to have come from this section of Brooklyn. Actors, writers. Lots of infamous people, too. Crime bosses. If you were looking for a who’s who of the neighborhood, just look to the headlines in the New York Post or Daily News through the years. Some folks made for good ink. Jimmy could add one more figure to the illustrious neighborhood: Salvatore Frisano.
Jimmy was positioned on 80th Street, a few houses down from where the Frisanos lived. What he knew was that this was the house Frank and his sister had grown up in. Where his parents still lived, despite the changing demographics. He had strolled past the house an hour ago, curious, wanting to assess the lay of the land before he descended upon it. All seemed quiet. The house was silent still at noontime. Which probably meant Mama Frisano—Beverly—was at church a few blocks, perhaps the one he passed on 84th Street. St. Mary Mother of Jesus. That much of her pattern he’d learned from Frisano Saturday morning when discussing what time to arrive. The question begged in his mind now: was her husband with her, or had other duties taken him away from being at his wife’s side? It was nearly one o’clock, a half-hour from when he should knock on the door, and still the activity around the two-story brick structure was non-existent. Were the meatballs in a slow-cooker? Doused in sauce? Or was it called gravy here?
Jimmy was beginning to feel cold seep beneath his jacket. February might be coming to an end, but the temperatures had dropped significantly in the past day. No snow in the forecast, just bright blue skies and the mercury in the teens. Jimmy could see his breath and he wished he’d taken his car. At least he’d have had a place to hang out while he scoped out his target. Except that might have drawn attention from nosy neighbors, a man sitting in a parked car for too long. So Jimmy did his best to stay warm, circling the block, rubbing his hands, waiting things out. He wasn’t sure what his motive was: he’d never before met the mother of any man he was dating. Was it Beverly he was nervous about? Most of his relationships were more casual, the occasion to meet the Mama never coming up. In this case, though, he’d met the father. A career NYPD lieutenant. A man who wore his power on his sleeve, his influence on his breath.
As much as Jimmy liked to think this invitation had come from the mother, he knew better. Lieutenant Salvatore Frisano was the driving force behind this dinner. What the man wanted, that’s what Jimmy wasn’t sure of, hence his pre-meal stakeout. Best to go inside those doors with a hint at what was to come. Sal had the ear of Commissioner Delaware, as he was assigned to many special task forces, among them assisting in the solution of Office Denson Luke’s murder. Jimmy had last seen him standing beside his boss during a press conference where they announced,
among other things, the retirement of his co-worker Lawrence Dean. It was a day later when Frisano had called with the invitation. A chance, no doubt, for Sal to get Jimmy one-on-one.
At least, those were his suspicions. He felt them in his gut, empty now because he’d skipped breakfast. Frisano had promised a feast. Jimmy hoped it wasn’t a last meal.
As he strolled down the tree-lined street, remains of snowfall from a week ago still frozen on the sidewalk, Jimmy noticed a few people turn the corner. Three women, all who were bundled up from the cold. Didn’t stop them from talking, the mist of their breath like cartoon bubbles above their heads. He heard words like “wonderful sermon” and “Father Assisi” and assumed they had all come from noon mass. The question in Jimmy’s mind: was one of them Beverly Frisano, and if so, where was her husband?
“Beverly, have a good day. Good luck, you know? Meeting the boy.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Come on, your son’s a hottie. Time to size up who floats his boat.”
“You both make me rethink what church I should go to.”
Then the three ladies laughed, exchanging pecks on the cheek before two of them went in the opposite direction, the remaining lady—presumably Beverly Frisano—picking up her pace as she walked toward a house near the end of the street. Jimmy continued to shadow her, feeling odd about having been the topic of discussion of good church-fearing women. Gossip was just another form of prayer. They did have one fact right though. Frisano was indeed a hottie. If those ladies knew what the two men had done Friday night and then into the morning, penance might be on the agenda.
Still, Jimmy felt like he’d overstepped his bounds when he realized it was Beverly Frisano whom he was trailing. She approached the white iron gates of the house in question, pushed it open and walked up the short path to the front steps. Soon, she was indoors, and as the cold filtered through Jimmy, he wished he could join her. But he was early, unfashionably.
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