The Masked Marvel turned around to look at the door. I knew he was trying to remember: In his haste to grab me, had he remembered to close it?
He had. But in the moment he turned away, I had time to reach into my pocket, too. When he turned back to face me, I took a step closer and raised my arm.
A stream of Mace squirted from the smal canister I always carried with me and hit him in the face. Told you we little guys fight dirty.
He jumped back quickly. I imagined the mask he was wearing protected him from the worst of it, but enough got into his eyes to get his attention.
“Fuffer,” he said through his mask. Then he turned and ran out of the room. By the time I fol owed him into the hal way, he had disappeared down the stairs.
I went back to the room, and, after deadbolting the door, sank down to the floor, exhausted. Now that the emergency was over, al the adrenaline drained from my body. A wave of nausea passed over me.
I also real y, real y needed to pee.
I used the bathroom and checked myself out in the mirror. Yup, there was a nice dark bruise along my cheekbone. By tomorrow, I might have a black eye. I spit into the sink. Traces of blood, but not too bad.
I looked around the room. Although Mrs. Cherry told me the client was from out of town, you’d never know it from the hotel room. There were no bags, no clothing, no personal belongings at al.
The client wasn’t staying at that hotel.
What to do next? I could cal hotel security and tel them… what? That I was a hustler whose trick had just gone mad? I’d probably be the one who got arrested.
Instead, I cal ed Mrs. Cherry. I told her what happened.
“My poor, poor, darling. He sounded so nice on the phone.”
I asked her for his ful name: Albert Foley. It sounded familiar, but I wasn’t sure from where.
“Are you al right?” Mrs. Cherry asked. “Do you need me to come get you?”
“No, I’m fine. But you’re going to have to cancel my appointments for the next few days. I got a nasty black and blue on my face.”
“Do you want Auntie Cherry to kiss it al better?”
I demurred.
“Darling, I want you to know this is entirely my fault.
I should be checking out your clients better than this.
But when he said you came recommended by Al en Harrington, I thought he was safe.”
Thanks a lot, Al en.
“No problem,” I said.
“Now listen, my dove, I insist on paying you for the next few days. Think of it as sick time. I’l send a messenger over with some cash when you’re feeling better.”
“OK,” I said. Wel, at least I’d have some time off.
“And, darling, I hate to be indelicate, but you have to know that you can’t be in the business I’m in without dealing with some, let’s just say, questionable partners. Now, it’s nothing you need to know about, but rest assured that I will be fol owing up with Mr. Foley.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I’l cal you when I’m presentable again.”
I had some time to kil, and a lot of nervous energy to burn off, so I decided to walk for awhile before hailing a cab home.
I supposed I was lucky that after a few years of hustling, this was the worst I had to show for it. But maybe it was a sign. With the money from Al en’s wil, I didn’t have to do this anymore. I could go back to school and live off his bequest until I graduated.
Besides, I thought, I didn’t think Tony would approve.
But then again, who was he to judge? He was married, for Christ’s sake. If I could overlook that, surely, he could accept my job.
Tony. I’d be seeing him again in less than an hour.
My body flushed with pleasure and I got a stupid grin on my face.
And, in the pit of my stomach, the wonderful/terrible squishy feeling that meant I was in deep.
But something stil bothered me. Albert Foley.
Why did that name seem so familiar? I had a feeling that it was important I remembered.
I thought about the names I had heard or said recently. Had I read it somewhere? Saw it on television? Was it someone I met?
Focus, Kevin, focus.
Then, it came to me.
It was a name I read to Marc Wilgus..
I pul ed the list Tony gave me from my wal et.
There it was: Albert Foley.
He committed suicide two weeks ago.
Suddenly, I didn’t feel very safe at al anymore.
The squishy feeling in my stomach was replaced by the dul ache of anxiety.
Assuming Albert hadn’t resurrected himself to bash me, someone was setting me up. Someone who felt free to use Albert’s name, which meant he probably knew Albert was dead. He used Al en’s name, too.
Was there a connection after al?
But who would want to see me hurt… or worse?
Was it Michael Harrington? The guy in the hotel room looked to be about his size, but it al happened so fast, it was hard to say.
Michael knew I had gone by his business to snoop him out. He seemed like he wanted to hurt me the other night. Plus, he real y hated gay people.
But he didn’t seem like the type to wear a slave mask.
Then there was the younger brother, Paul. What was it Freddy said?
“Sometimes, people with secrets are wil ing to kil to protect them.”
Would Paul kil to keep his secret safe? It seemed suspiciously coincidental that I had just seen him at a sex club last night.
Of course, I didn’t know that the guy in the hotel room wanted to kil me. He might have just been sending me a message: Back off.
As if.
Everything had gone down so quickly I couldn’t tel if the guy was closer in size to Michael or Paul. Or it could have been neither of them. Maybe it was someone they hired to rough me up. Maybe like Mrs.
Cherry, the Harrington brothers knew some
“questionable” people.
How come everyone seemed to have criminal friends except for me?
Then I realized that, given my profession, I was a criminal.
I real y needed to rethink my life. Which, given the fact that I just chased off a knife-wielding assailant, wasn’t looking too long.
It might be time to get some help.
When I arrived at my building, Tony was once again standing outside. He looked so good that I forgot how bad I must have looked, until I saw his look of concern.
“What happened?” he asked, reaching out to gently touch my swol en cheek. “Are you OK?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “It’s a long story.”
“Did you get mugged? Did you cal it in?”
“No and no. Come upstairs and I’l tel you.”
As soon as we got into my apartment, I gave Tony a nice, long kiss. He tried to push me away.
“Kevin, I’m serious. Tel me what happened. What can I do?”
“Two more minutes of this, just to flush the bad stuff away,” I said. “Then, I’l tel you everything.”
After a while, I felt his body start to respond. His breathing quickened, his hands moved down to my ass, cupping, kneading. Then he pushed me away again.
“That’s it,” he said sternly. “Sit. Talk.”
So I did.
I wanted Tony to reach his own conclusions, so I started with the visit Freddy and I paid to Michael Harrington at The Center for Creative Empowerment Therapy. Then I told him about running into Paul at Sexbar.
“So, you hurt your cheek when the wal fel down?”
Paul asked, pul ing me closer on the couch to him.
“Poor baby.” He kissed my neck. I cuddled closer.
Then he smacked me on the head. “But what are you playing at? I told you, al the evidence points towards your friend’s death being a suicide. Putting yourself in front of Michael like that was dangerous.”
“If he didn’t have anything to do with Al en’s death,” I asked, “why was it dangerous?”
�
��Because he sounds crazy,” Tony said. “They al do!”
“That’s my point exactly. With that many nuts running around, one of them’s bound to be a kil er.”
“This is New York City!” Tony yel ed. “Half the fucking population belongs in a straightjacket.”
“There’s more,” I said.
“What more could there be?”
“I think someone might be trying to kil me.”
“You haven’t told me everything, have you?”
“Not yet.” I sat up. “Here comes the hard part.”
CHAPTER 19
Everything Falls Apart
Well, I thought, an hour later, sitting alone in my apartment, that could have gone better.
There was no way to explain what had happened this morning without tel ing Tony why I had gone to that hotel room. Which meant I had to tel him how I made a living. So, I started with that.
“I don’t understand,” Tony said. “What do you mean you ‘hustle?’ You mean drugs?” He looked appal ed.
“No,” I said, “of course not! I mean, I date guys for money.”
“You’re a prossy?”
“Not exactly. More like an escort.”
Tony stood up from the couch where we both had been sitting. “Let me get this straight. You have sex with guys for money?”
“I wouldn’t cal it sex. It’s fooling around. It’s nothing. One guy likes to spank me.” I watched the color drain from Tony’s face. “But very, very gently.
Another just wants to measure my inseam. Then there’s the guy who wants me to wrap him up in cel ophane and…”
“Wait!” Tony put his hand up. “I have to sit down.”
He plopped down on the couch again.
“You mean, you never have sex with these guys?”
“Wel, maybe sometimes, but it’s not real y ‘sex.’
It’s just business.”
Tony’s eyes narrowed. “I can’t believe I was starting to… what happened to you?”
“Nothing ‘happened,’” I said. “I found out that I could get five hundred dol ars for squeezing some guy’s crotch in a fancy restaurant. Plus, I get a nice dinner! I told you, it’s no big deal!”
“I just…” Tony was at a loss for words. He put his head in his hands.
I slid over and put an arm around him. “It doesn’t mean anything. It has nothing to do with this. With you.”
Tony pushed me away, angrily. “Don’t touch me!”
“Tony…”
“No, I’m serious; I can’t believe you’re a prostitute!
I arrest people like you!”
Now he was pissing me off. OK, maybe I had an unconventional line of work, but no one got hurt. Wel, not until today.
“And I get paid by people like you!” I answered.
“What ‘people like me?’”
“Supposedly straight guys who marry a woman and then screw around with boys on the side!”
“Oh, that’s just great.” Tony threw his arms in the air.
“Listen, I’m just saying that I don’t judge the choices you’ve made for your life. I don’t understand why you’re judging mine.”
“Because what you’re doing is illegal!”
“There are places where any sex between two men is il egal. Does that make it wrong?”
“You know this is different,” Tony hissed.
“I don’t do anything that injures anyone,” I said. “I probably save more marriages than I hurt.”
“Great! You’re Doctor Fucking Phil of the Whores!”
That was it. “Fuck you,” I said. “I don’t have to defend myself to you.”
“No,” Tony said, looking at me with contempt,
“save your defense for when you go to court.”
He got up and headed to the door.
“Here’s a news flash.” I shouted. “Things get tough and Tony Rinaldi gets going. Are you going to walk out on me again?”
Tony’s stare was ice. “I never should have walked back in. This was a mistake.”
As angry as I was, sadness started to seep in.
There he was, at another doorway that was about to separate us again.
This time, I figured, for the last time.
How beautiful he looked standing there, nostrils flaring, eyes narrowed, his body tense and ready for action.
My eyes wel ed with tears.
“Wait,” I said. “What if you don’t leave right now?
What if we just sit here for a minute?”
Tony looked like he wanted to hit me. But kind of like he wanted to kiss me, too. “A minute’s not going to change anything, Kevin.”
I tried to smile but my lips were trembling. “Five minutes, then.”
Tony’s expression didn’t waver, but I thought I saw a trace of sorrow in his eyes.
“This isn’t going to work, Kevin. I’m a cop, for Christ’s sake! What you’re doing is dangerous and wrong.”
“I’m bringing some joy into people’s lives,” I said.
“How is that wrong? We’re al consenting adults.”
“Wel, maybe I don’t want to be with someone who would consent to something like that.”
What could I say? “Maybe you don’t.”
Tony sighed and his shoulders relaxed. “I’m sorry, Kevin. This just isn’t something I can wrap my head around. It… disgusts me.”
Now a tear did drop down my face. “I disgust you?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know, Kevin. I just… what we did yesterday, was that just business to you, too?”
I felt like yel ing but could only croak. “No, Tony, no.” I reached a hand out to his face. “Tony, my whole life, no one else has ever touched me here.” I put my hand on my heart.
Tony brushed the tear from my cheek with his thumb. “But a lot of people have touched you everywhere else, though. Right?”
His gesture was kind but his words were cruel.
Was that how it was always going to be with Tony? Was he always going to be coming and going? Straight but gay? Loving yet hurtful?
After Tony dumped me, I spent seven years closing off my heart. Yet, when he came back into my life, I was only too ready to reopen it for him.
Maybe I was right the first time.
There’s this heartbreaking scene in The Prince of Tides where Barbra encounters Nick Nolte after he’s made the decision to dump her and return to his wife. Even though she sees him from across the street, she takes one look at him and realizes that he’s lost to her. She breaks into tears and they share a final embrace.
She doesn’t beg, she doesn’t plead.
She lets him go.
Let’s see if I could be as classy as she was.
I threw my arms around Tony and squeezed him tight. He didn’t hug back, but he didn’t pul away, either.
I wished he didn’t feel so fucking good, but there you have it.
I released him and opened the door. He looked surprised.
No more talking. The door is open, Tony. What are you going to do?
He looked at me unblinkingly for one long moment. I saw every kind of regret in his eyes.
His lips parted. I thought he was going to kiss me.
He walked out.
I closed the door, slid down to the floor, and cried myself hoarse.
After I got that out of my system, I took a long shower, put on some clean clothing, and pressed some ice against my cheek.
Truth was, my relationship with Tony died a hundred years ago. He was right. We never should have gotten back together. It was a mistake.
You can’t raise the dead.
You shouldn’t love the dead, either.
Tony was dead to me.
So was Al en.
Was that my problem? That I couldn’t let go?
If the police didn’t think Al en was murdered, maybe I should just accept it and move on.
After al, what was the point of pursuing Al en’s death? It had gotten me beaten up in a hotel room an
d cost me my one chance to reunite with the man who was probably the great love of my life.
That’s it, I decided, I’m through with Tony and with the Harringtons.
It was time to let the dead stay dead.
The phone rang. Tony? I thought, hating myself for wishing it was.
But Cal er ID told me it was another man who had been on my mind.
Paul Harrington was cal ing me.
CHAPTER 20
The Shocking Secrets of the Harrington Boys
“Tell me again what you want me to do,” Freddy asked when I cal ed him one minute after I finished talking with Paul.
“Just be at the bar where I’m going to meet Paul and sit in the back. I don’t want him to see you. Then just… watch. Just to make sure he doesn’t try anything funny.”
“Honey, I’ve seen Paul Harrington,” Freddy said.
“The only funny thing he’d try would be to give you a handjob under the table.”
“No, I think one of the Harrington boys might want to have me hurt.”
“Just because Michael looked like he wanted to eat you alive the other night? And I mean, like Hannibal Lecter wanted to eat Clarice,” Freddy clarified.
“No,” I answered. I told Freddy what happened at the hotel.
“What!” Freddy said. “Are you shitting me?”
“I wish I were.”
“Have you told your cop boyfriend about it?”
“I was about to, but then he dumped me.” I explained what just went down between me and Tony.
“Poor baby,” Freddy said. “Honey, I’m so sorry.”
Freddy loved me, but to tel you the truth, he didn’t sound that sorry.
“Thanks, but I real y don’t want to focus on that right now. The point is, we’re not going to get any help from him.”
“Doesn’t sound like. But why are you meeting Paul?”
“I don’t know,” I answered truthful y. “I guess I’m curious. He said he wanted to talk to me but he wouldn’t say why. I was just about to give up on the Harringtons when he cal ed. Maybe it’s a sign.”
“‘Wet floor’ is a sign, too, angel. One you’re supposed to avoid. Like the Harringtons.”
“I know, but if I don’t do this, I’l just spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder. Let me see what he has to say. I’l let him know that the warning I got today worked and that I’m backing off.”
First You Fall Page 18