“That was us behind you this afternoon,” said Rawlins. “We were in that silver car, you were in the white Saab.”
“That was you chasing me?”
“Yeah, no shit, that was us.”
He smiled. He smiled a naughty grin, looked down at the ground, and ran one hand over the moonlike dome of his head.
“I'm very sorry. We've been having some problems and I thought you were someone else.”
“Like who?” asked Rawlins.
“A photographer—the so-called paparazzi. Unfortunately, we get them all the time, chasing us in cars, hanging from trees, dressing up like mailmen and coming up to the house. You see, I work for someone very important, someone who's quite—”
“We know, Tim Chase.”
“Right. Exactly right. I'm in charge of his security, and I thought you were trying to take pictures of me or something.”
Clearly not amused, Foster said, “You nearly sideswiped a school bus. Someone could've been badly hurt.”
“Yes, well…”
“Mr. Radzinsky,” said Rawlins, cutting in, “where were you on the night of September twenty-second?”
“When?”
“That's three nights ago. Where were you at approximately ten-thirty that evening?”
“I don't know. Here, I suppose.”
“A witness saw a white Saab with California plates down at Lake Harriet. That car is registered to you, and the witness saw someone who matches your description throw a knife into the water. We've since recovered that knife, and our forensics lab is now testing it to see if that was the weapon used to kill a teenager by the name of Andrew Lyman earlier that—”
“Please, gentlemen,” pleaded Radzinsky, smiling nervously and holding up both hands. “You've got the wrong guy.”
“I'm not so sure we do.”
Foster stepped right up to the gate and grabbed onto one of the bars. “Listen, we need some nice, simple answers.”
“And we could,” added Rawlins, “arrest you right now for that little escapade this afternoon. Reckless endangerment and evading an officer are two charges that come to mind.”
“Is that what you'd like? Shall we take you downtown, where we can have a nice, long, serious talk?”
“Please, let's not be too hasty,” replied Radzinsky, reaching up and unlocking the gate. “Perhaps you'd like to come in and speak to my employer, Mr. Chase?”
37
It wasn't easy for Todd to relax. In fact, sitting naked in a hot tub with such a famous person made Todd, if anything, more tense. After all, where was this headed and why were they even in here at all?
Placing his wineglass on the edge of the tub, he sank into the hot water all the way up to his neck, paused, then slipped down until it was up to his chin. Directly across from him sat Tim Chase, his head tilted back against a cushion, the water churning and whirling up and around him.
“God, isn't this the greatest?” groaned Chase, his eyes closed and a contented grin on his face. “Did you find the jets?”
Todd reached behind his back, felt a shot of water, and slid over. “Yeah.”
“This should make you feel better in no time. Is it hot enough for you? I can turn up the temperature.”
“Actually, it's perfect.”
“Good.”
Todd stared right at him. Or rather he stared right at Chase's body, but the churning bubbles were so thick his eyes couldn't see beneath the surface.
He asked, “Have you been using this thing much?”
“No. This is something like only the second time.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, but I have a scene like this in the movie we're shooting. My character, Rich, goes to visit an old friend, who's now married, and they have this sort of awkward encounter in a hot tub.”
“Oh, so that's what this is all about,” said Todd. “The two of us— you a married man, me gay—in a hot tub. Is that why you suggested this?”
“Well, you did get yourself a little beat-up, but like I've said, I do need to do some more research.”
“Ah, the ulterior motive.”
“Something like that, anyway.” Tim opened his eyes and gazed over at Todd. “Hey, I should ask if you've ever slept with a married man.”
Todd thought for a moment, then replied. “I really haven't had that many sexual partners, but I have done it once with a married guy. Well, kind of, that is.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Well, how was it?’
“In a word, humiliating.”
And that it most certainly was. Todd recalled the cheesy motel room they rented, the awkward attempt at intimacy, the dirty aftertaste.
“Why was that?” asked Chase.
“Well, it wasn't my idea. Sure, I was attracted to him. He was an old friend in Chicago, Mike, and we got together and went to a Cubs game. Somehow it came up. Somehow he said he was afraid that he might be gay. I told him I had the same worries. Actually, this was when I was married too. I didn't really want to try it, but one thing led to another. I don't know, he really pushed for it. He was quite aggressive.”
“So what happened?”
“Of course I had to pay for the motel room because Mike didn't have enough cash and he was afraid his wife would see his credit card bill. Anyway, we went to this dump and… and nothing much happened. In the end we both got an answer, each of them different.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, lo and behold, he literally couldn't get it up for another guy.”
“But you could?”
“Exactly, which left me kind of excited and exposed in front of a guy who realized he was, after all, straight. It was embarrassing for me, to say the least, and we never spoke again. Last I heard he was still married, but I got divorced soon thereafter.”
Todd sat up a bit and twisted around. He grabbed hold of one of the jets and tried to turn it, but the thing wouldn't budge.
“What's the matter?” asked Tim.
“I was just trying to aim this thing but it's stuck.”
“Yeah, they can be a little tough. Here, let me help you.”
Before Todd knew it, Tim Chase had floated over and the two of them were side by side, their wet arms sliding up against each other as they worked at the jet. In a second the device twisted in one direction.
“There, that's great,” said Todd as his heart broke from a walk to a trot.
Todd pulled back, sitting right where he had before. Tim didn't return to the other side, but instead sat down so that his shoulder butted up against Todd's. Todd looked over, saw the other man smiling back, and then, unseen beneath the churning water, felt a hand on his thigh. Against Todd's will, a rush of desire stormed through him and his heart proceeded from trot to gallop.
“Tim,” said Todd, his voice low and unsteady, “what are you doing?”
“Research, remember?”
“But—”
“Shh. The trouble with reporters is that they don't know how to listen.”
Oh, yes, Todd was aroused, very much so. But he wasn't going to be so exposed and left so stupidly vulnerable like that time so many years ago after the Cubs game. No, and he wasn't going to be used, and he slid his hands down over his crotch. Besides, what did he himself really want and what was he tempting by simply being here?
But then…
Then he glanced over at gorgeous Tim Chase and his last defenses vanished. Yes, he could fall real hard for this guy, and a hot little voice in his head cooed: why shouldn't you? After all, Rawlins had had his fun, so why shouldn't he?
The next moment Todd felt Tim lean over and start kissing him on the neck, the ear. Todd closed his eyes and tumbled into it, into him. Yes, he could fall real, real hard.
“Tim, I—”
“If I were a gay man seducing someone else in a hot tub, is this how I'd do it?”
“Well…”
“Well?”
“Yes, I'd say you were doing pretty�
��” Todd felt a hand slither across his stomach and slide up his chest. “… Pretty damn well.”
But was this just a game? Was he just being used?
“Tim, maybe I'm too much of a Midwesterner to understand, but you just gotta tell me if this is what people in Hollywood call research or…” said Todd, trying to throw up a last line of defense. “No, you just gotta tell me—are you or aren't you gay?”
“Fuck labels.”
Right, thought Todd. Screw ’em. And he turned into Tim, embraced him, clutched him in a desperate, almost hungry way. The other man hugged back, and Todd couldn't believe it, couldn't believe he was in this mass of swirling water, his heart and his body pounding with want and lust for him, for Tim Chase, and that Chase was actually returning the passion.
Or was he? Couldn't it all be simply… acting?
Determined not to be duped, Todd's hand drifted down the other man's side and to his waist, groping for that so-called thermometer, determined to know how it would read, knowing that a man's mind and mouth could lie buckets, but the ever-honest penis could not. And sensing Chase's taut, rippled stomach in the water, Todd lowered his hand, but Chase, realizing the destination of Todd's wayward grope, scooted back.
Looking suddenly, even oddly, worried, Chase said, “Just take it easy there, champ.”
“But…”
“Not too fast, okay?”
Now it was Todd's turn to pull back, and Todd, not without a bit of anger in his voice, softly demanded, “Tim, quit screwing with my head. What's going on here?”
“Off the record?”
“Of course.”
“You just never know. I mean, I've just gotten kind of gun-shy, you know? And you—here I am sitting naked with a reporter of a people. I mean, my publicist and my lawyers would have a fit.”
“You have nothing to worry about from me. I swear to that.”
“I'm sorry, but you don't know what it's like. I've just gotten burned a few too many times.”
The way he said it, the way his brow wrinkled and those beautiful eyebrows pinched together—well, Todd didn't doubt him. Not for an instant. Of all the things to feel at this particular moment, the last and the least Todd expected was a flood of pity.
“Really, it's okay. You have my word.”
“Thank you,” said Chase. “Thank you very much. I have very few safe harbors, very, very few.”
Tim reached into the water and pulled up first Todd's right hand and then his left, both of which he clutched between his. Then softly yet firmly he placed his lips on Todd's hands and kissed them, his eyes all the while staring deep into the molten well of Todd's desire. Something, he didn't know what, shot through Todd, and he just sat there, not even flinching, for he found himself transfixed as much by the intensity of the moment as by its lack of pretense. Yes, there sat the two men in that pool of hot water, naked in every sense of the word. Finally, after what almost became a painful length of silence, Tim kissed Todd's hands once again, and then his lips moved, started to explain, to divulge the hidden truth of Tim Chase, Inc. At that very instant, however, every bit of him seized up as a herd of footsteps entered the far end of the pool room.
A deep voice from across the pool gasped, “Oh, shit.”
Todd knew that butch, sonorous voice, and as if this were some sort of pathetic soap opera, he spun around, saw not one but three men standing there on the far side of the pool. And one of them, of course, was his erstwhile lover. The next moment, practically flailing in the water, both Todd and Chase were pushing away from each other.
“Rawlins, what…” gasped Todd in a panic. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Rawlins stood there, his face frozen in shock. He went to say something, then stopped. He stared at Todd, shook his head, and then turned and stormed out. As the water churned around him, Todd started to get up, but then sank down beneath the churning water, for not only was he nude, his arousal had yet to deflate.
Furious, Chase practically leapt out, shouting, “Vic, what the fuck are you doing barging in?”
“Sorry, but ah…we have a situation here.”
“No, Vic, we don't have a situation—you do!”
38
If there'd been lust in Todd's gut, now there was simply a terribly potent stew of guilt and shame and regret that Todd, in an instant, had been forced to consume in its entirety and that had left him feeling nothing short of sick, sick, sick.
He could barely pull himself out of the whirlpool, let alone stand and pull on his clothes. But he had no choice. The strength of his remorse pushed him onward, and, dripping wet, he pulled on his pants, shirt, socks, and shoes, and then went hurrying around the edge of the robber baron's pool.
Grabbing Todd by the arm at the far end, Foster, in that gruff voice of his, said, “Let him go.”
“No.”
Not for an instant. Glaring at Rawlins's work partner, he pulled himself free, then hurried out of the pool room, through the exercise room, up that big staircase, and through that enormous hall of the tr?s riche. As if it were some cheap screen door, Todd hurled open the oversized front door with its precious stained glass and dashed out into the cool night. Rawlins stood at the far end of the walk, his head bowed as he hung on to the thick black iron bars of the gate. As Todd approached, his pace began to slow and his heart began to shake.
“Rawlins, I'm… I'm sorry.”
Without looking up, Rawlins said, “An appointment, an interview… or a date? What the hell was that, Todd?”
“Nothing, that's what it was.”
“Oh, really? Is that what you call doing tub tricks?”
“Listen, Rawlins, I wasn't looking for it. And besides, it's not like anything really happened.”
“At least not yet, right? Gee, that makes me feel so much better.”
“Do you know who that is? That's Tim Chase, for God's sake, and he—”
“So you couldn't pass up the opportunity, right?”
“No, but—”
“You're just a star fucker, aren't you? That's all you are, a media whore desperately climbing some ladder.”
Todd stared right at him and said it as deeply and thoughtfully as he could: “Fuck you, Rawlins.”
“Yeah, well, fuck you too, you asshole!”
The remorse was gone, vanished. Todd turned to the side, looked across the gazillion-dollar lawn. The oaks, dark and massive, loomed overhead in judgment. No, he wasn't going to take this. No way in hell. And so he pulled out his own vial of poisoned knowledge.
“You know what, Rawlins, I'll tell you every little detail about Tim Chase. Everything. I'll be completely honest with you because, after all, that was our agreement, right? That was the ground rule of our relationship, correct?”
Rawlins turned to him, his eyes smoldering with hate.
“I'll tell you all about what happened between me and Tim Chase… if you tell me all about you and Andrew Lyman. Deal?”
“What? How the hell do you—”
“I know everything. Jordy told me. Remember him? Jordy, Andrew's previous boyfriend? He was really upset by you stealing Andrew. I know that Andrew was in love with you, that you two were quite intimate, and that—”
“You don't know shit!”
“What don't I know? That Andrew Lyman was a minor? That you could be charged with criminal sexual conduct? Or what? That you didn't mean for it to happen? What did you do, suck him? Fuck him? Just what in the hell were you thinking? For Christ's sake, he was only seventeen!”
“Stop it!” Rawlins covered his eyes with his left hand and turned back to the gate, shaking his head and saying, “Oh, God.” He took a deep breath and exhaled. “It's just so complicated.”
“No shit.”
“Todd, you've got to believe me, you don't know what this has been like, what…” His back to Todd, he leaned on the gate with both hands. “I went to his apartment that afternoon, just a few hours before he was killed. And something did happen, but not what you think.
I wanted to tell you too, but when? I mean, I went over there about one-thirty, then I went on duty at three, and then… then he was killed and I was assigned to the case. There just hasn't been the right time for us to sit down and talk!”
Sensing that the truth, whatever it was, had indeed been torturing him, Todd said, “Rawlins, if something's hurting you, it's hurting me more. We're not going to last, we're not going to make it, if we have to choose when to hold back and when to give. Those are supposed to be automatic.”
And now it was just that, automatic. Rawlins couldn't keep it bottled up, not a moment longer, that much was obvious.
“So… so I went over there, over to his apartment. Andrew was really upset. Someone had been over there—I'm still not sure who— and Andrew was crying. I mean, just bawling. So what was I supposed to do, just turn around and walk out on him like every other adult in his life had done? No, I couldn't. I just took him in my arms and held him and told him everything would be okay.”
Todd kept his attention focused on the bull's-eye, asking, “Nothing sexual had happened before this?”
“God, no. Nothing. Nothing at all—and that afternoon it was the last thing on my mind. I was just trying to help him. I was just trying to be a good role model to him, that's all.” His back still to Todd, he took a deep breath. “But it wasn't quite like that for him. I mean, I had crushes on older guys when I was a kid too. I wanted to sleep with my gym teacher in the worst way so I should have seen it coming. I should have seen it in his eyes.” Rawlins reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small red spiral notebook. “It's all in here.”
“What's that?”
“Andrew's diary—I stole it from his apartment after he was killed. He was writing in it just before I came over. He was writing how much he loved me and that he had seen it in my eyes, the lust. I mean, maybe I had looked at him admiringly.” He paused. “What do I mean, maybe? Of course I did. How could any gay man not? Andrew was perfect. But I never wanted to seduce him and… and I never wanted him to fall in love with me.” Rawlins sighed. “But… but he did, and that's what he last wrote in his diary. That he was in love with me, that I was coming over in just a few minutes, and that he was sure we were finally going to do it, have sex.”
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