by Andrew Grey
“You’ll figure it out,” Jordan said, biting his lower lip. He hated keeping secrets. It was something he’d never been good at, especially as a kid, but he had to keep his mouth shut, even if what he knew could provide Pierre with information he might need. Jordan kept telling himself that the two things weren’t related, but he knew that was likely a lie.
“I hope so.” Pierre paused on the far side of the car.
“I know this isn’t your ideal kind of assignment. You stand around all day looking at people and checking the judge’s mail for possible threats, watching anyone who comes into the office. It’s got to be boring as all hell.” Jordan opened the door and stood back as waves of heat poured out of the car.
“It hasn’t been that bad.” Pierre climbed inside and started the engine. “There have been compensations.”
Jordan got in and closed the door as the air conditioner blessedly started producing cool air. “I have to ask,” he said as he pulled on his seat belt, “what sort of thing are you looking for?”
“Well, the most likely person to send the notes is someone the judge has hurt. We ran down the names he gave us and, as expected, came up empty. Maybe tomorrow you could help me go through some of the cases the judge has heard and see if we can identify people who might fit the basic profile.”
“I can try.” He’d do what he could to help up to a point.
Pierre made the turns toward High Street. “Which garage is your car at?”
“The Ford dealership.” Jordan figured Pierre knew where it was and sat back while he drove.
Pierre gripped the wheel and sat rigidly in his seat. Jordan got the idea that he had something on his mind and was trying to figure out how to say it.
“I was wondering if you’d maybe like to get some dinner with me… once Jeremiah is feeling better.”
“You mean, like a date?” Jordan asked in complete amazement. He’d seen Pierre watching him a few times, but he hadn’t thought he’d be interested in him in that way. Especially not after meeting Jeremiah. He’d had a few guys ask him out, but not in a while, and as soon as they heard about Jeremiah, suddenly the wallpaper or the paint color across the way became extremely interesting. “You know I can’t make a bunch of commitments or plans. I mean, I get social workers who drop by just to make unannounced visits to make sure I’m treating him right and that the house meets whatever standards they think it should. My life revolves around Jeremiah and all the things I have to do.” All the uncertainty with this process made him nervous as hell sometimes.
“Yes, I mean on a date. I was thinking we could go to the go-cart track. They have laser tag and a bunch of other games that are really fun.” Pierre scraped his lower lip over his teeth.
Jordan processed what he’d heard. “Are you saying you’re asking me on a date and you want me to bring Jeremiah with us?” That made no sense. Guys didn’t want someone dragging their kid along with them when they went out. He had to have completely misunderstood.
“Of course,” Pierre chuckled. “Is that so hard to believe? I owe Jeremiah a ride in a police car anyway because he was so good, so I thought when he felt better….”
That made sense to Jordan. This was just Pierre making good on his promise. It wasn’t a real date. “Sure. I suspect he’ll be fine this weekend. So maybe we could meet you there Saturday afternoon.” That way Jeremiah would be able to have some fun and maybe get his promised ride. “Just let us know what time.”
“I’ll pick the two of you up. It’s no problem. Let’s say at two.” Pierre made sure Jordan had his cell number. “Text me if something changes or if Jeremiah starts feeling badly again.” He made the turn into the dealership and pulled up to the front.
“I will. Thank you.” Jordan got out and waved before going inside.
“WHY ARE you being so timid?” Brad asked the following evening once Jeremiah had had his bath and was in bed. Jordan had done his best to remain professional at work, but it was damn hard knowing Pierre was around. He tended to show up when Jordan wasn’t expecting it. Each time he did, Jordan wondered just exactly what was beneath that blue sheriff’s deputy uniform. “Jordan, are you with me?”
“Sorry.” God, he’d done it again.
Brad chuckled. “You obviously like this guy, so why play hard to get? He actually asked you out and said to bring Jeremiah. That should make him some sort of dream man for you.”
“You’re a jackass sometimes.”
“Duh. We all have a talent.” Nothing ever fazed Brad; he had a retort for just about anything. “Just so we’re clear, this is the guy from the bathroom, the one who took you home the other night?”
“Yes. His name is Pierre and he’s a sheriff’s deputy. We work together.” Jordan rolled his eyes, and Brad sat back on the sofa, making himself comfortable.
“Is he your boss?”
“You know I work for the judge.”
“If he was, I was going to say that you were lucky because I’d love to work under him any time. Pierre was dreamy, with all those muscles, dark hair, and eyes as deep as a cavern. I’d give a hell of a lot to have someone like that look at me the way he was devouring you with his eyes.”
“He was not.” Jordan slapped Brad on the shoulder.
“Ow.”
“That was for being a smartass.” He did it again. “And that was for blowing me off and not taking me home. It’s a good thing Pierre is a gentleman.” He grinned. “If I’d had to rely on you, I’d still be sitting there worrying about Jeremiah.”
Brad rubbed his shoulder. “Okay. I wasn’t much of a friend and I’m sorry about that. I should have taken you where you needed to go. But think about it. You said Officer Dreamy took you to your mom’s and then stayed at the hospital with you to make sure both of you were okay. That sounds gentlemanly and hot at the same time.” Brad quivered.
“Please, you’ve had more men than Britney Spears.”
Brad leaned forward. “And not one of them has offered to take me somewhere when I needed it or stayed with me when I was sick… or needed help. I’m a good lay and that’s about all.” For the first time in their ten-year friendship he heard Brad choke up and saw his eyes fill with tears. “If someone, anyone, ever looked at me the way Pierre did that night, I’d get down on my knees and thank all that’s holy that God truly does exist, because I’ve been praying for that since I learned what my dick was really good for.” The force behind his voice was enough for Jordan to take notice, even if the volume wasn’t loud enough to wake Jeremiah.
“Don’t you think you’re being dramatic?”
“No, I’m not. And don’t you dismiss this man. At least keep an open mind and see what he wants.” Brad shook his head.
“That’s all fine and dandy, but I have more than myself to watch out for. If I get involved with someone, then Jeremiah could get hurt as well as me, and that’s bad. He needs stability in his life.”
Brad leaned closer. “Bullshit,” he whispered. “People come and go in our lives all the time. They have in your life and they will in his. You can’t stop living and use him as an excuse to do it. Just enjoy it and have a good time.”
Sometimes Brad had a lot more insight than Jordan ever gave him credit for.
“But what if he’s just being nice?” Which was exactly what he thought was going on.
“Then you and Jeremiah have a nice day out, he gets to ride in a police car, and you haven’t lost anything.” Brad looked at him as though he were stupid. “I love you like a brother, but sometimes you’re a little daft. He asked you out on a date in the afternoon and he invited Jeremiah as well. He didn’t propose marriage or ask you to move in with him. Just relax and have fun… you remember what that is, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” Jordan scowled. “It’s what I’m supposed to be having with you, but it isn’t happening right now.”
“Ha, ha… very funny. You’re a damned comedian. Maybe you should take your act on the road. You could… I don’t know… combine it with
your life as a rent boy and make fifty cents.” Brad crossed his arms over his chest in a “top that” sort of way. Brad liked to think he was a drag queen without the makeup and frocks and threw shade with the best of them.
“Don’t be a jerk just because you made a good point. Even a blind squirrel gets a nut every now and then.” Jordan got up to go into the kitchen and returned with a couple of sodas and a bag of chips. “You’re supposed to be helping me.”
“I am.” Brad took the soda with a shrug. “You’ve had something up your butt for a while, long before Pierre showed up. You’ve been worried and jumpy for weeks. What happened? Is your boss giving you a hard time?” He popped open the can, gulped the soda, and then burped too loudly.
“No. Judge Crawford is the same as he’s always been,” Jordan said, not telling a lie, exactly.
“But something changed a few weeks ago.” Brad lifted his gaze toward the ceiling. “Your mom’s okay. Jeremiah gave you a scare, but he’s fine, and there’s nothing wrong with the adoption.” Brad waited, staring at Jordan until he shook his head. “All our friends are fine, and there’s nothing wrong there as far as I know. And to top things off, you have a drop-dead gorgeous man interested in you, and he’s a cop!” Brad’s complexion turned a slight shade of envious green. “I bet he looks delicious in his uniform.” He actually licked his lips.
“Stop that. What Pierre looks like in his uniform is none of your business,” Jordan growled, and Brad leaned back on the sofa, crowing like a rooster.
“See! I knew you liked him.”
Jordan wanted to slap the smug look off his face, but he’d fallen right into that trap without thinking about it. He should have kept his mouth shut.
“So.” Brad set the can aside and stood, extending his hand.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking you to your bedroom. We need to decide what you’re going to wear on Saturday. I mean, you have very little that’s decent, so if we can’t find anything good, we’ll have to go shopping tomorrow after work.” He tugged Jordan to the bedroom, threw open the door to his closet, and stared inside, hands on his hips, tapping one foot. “My God, if my closet looked like this, I’d probably shoot myself.”
“Drama much?” Jordan retorted.
“Please.” Brad pulled out a blue shirt. “This is so last year, and it’s been washed so many times that it’s lost its color.” He tossed it aside and went back in.
“Stop that. I like that shirt.” Jordan picked it up off the footboard of the bed where it had landed, then grabbed another out of the closet. “I was going to wear these jeans because they make my butt look good and this shirt. It’s the one Gary got me when he went on that cruise. It’s nice, fun, and isn’t too serious. I also like the colors.” He put the light gray shirt next to the jeans. “Does this meet with your approval, your fashion highness—or hind-end-ness, in this case?”
“Daddy,” Jeremiah said as he came in the room. “I heard you.”
“I’m sorry. Uncle Brad was being naughty and talking too loud.” Jordan lifted Jeremiah into his arms. “Come on. I’ll put you back to bed.”
“Will you sing for me?” he asked.
Jordan nodded and left the room, but stopped to turn back to Brad. “Back away from the closet.” He took Jeremiah down to his room and settled him into bed. “It’s all right. I’m sorry we woke you. How about we sing the star song.” Jordan sang “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” Jeremiah sang with him the first time, and the second time through, Jordan sang alone, as Jeremiah fell right back to sleep. He closed the door and returned to the living room, where he found Brad with another soda.
“You’re really amazing with him.”
Jordan sat on the sofa. “I hope so.”
Brad shook his head. “No, I mean it. You’ve had him in your life for eight months now, and I don’t think I can picture you without him. You’re happier now than I’ve ever known you, except for whatever’s had you on edge for the past few weeks. But you obviously don’t want to talk about that.” He sighed.
“It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it. I can’t. Things could get really bad if I do, and….” Jordan paused before going too far. “Just know it has nothing to do with you. I really need the adoption to be finalized and then I can relax. Get me through the next month or so, and when I have the final court date and get the judge to sign the papers, I’m going to be fine.” It was the only thing that mattered right now. He needed to keep the ship upright and everything moving forward. Then he could deal with the shit that was sure to come.
Thankfully Brad let it go after that. “What is Jeremiah going to wear?”
Jordan rolled his eyes in a big way. “Actually, he likes to choose his own clothes.”
“That explains the red pants, orange shoes, and green shirt. I swear, I thought my eyes were going to start bleeding at any moment.”
“He’s a kid who knows what colors he likes. It doesn’t matter as long as he’s happy. So stop picking on him—and me, for that matter. It isn’t nice. What are you, the T.J.Maxx fashionista? I mean, good grief.” Jordan crossed his arms. Sometimes he could dish it out as well as take it.
“Now who’s being mean?” Brad fake pouted and then finished his soda. “It’s getting late, and I know you need to be at work early.” He leaned close and pulled Jordan into a hug. “Don’t worry about things too much. Whatever it is will work out fine, and Jeremiah loves you. Anyone can see that, including the judge. So try to relax.” Brad stood, waved, and let himself out.
Jordan cleaned up their snack and turned out the lights. He had planned to try to think about something, anything, other than what had been worrying him, and thanks to Brad, now he couldn’t get Pierre out of his head.
JORDAN’S WORKDAY went slower than any day he could remember. Judge Crawford had called that morning and had him clear his calendar because he needed to take a personal day. So after a flurry of rescheduling the work for the day, he spent it catching up on things. Pierre had been called back to the station since the judge wasn’t in court and was apparently spending the day at home, where he had employed his own security. So basically Jordan was alone in the office, answering the phone and catching up on anything he’d let fall behind.
FRIDAY EVENING, Jordan made Jeremiah go to bed at his usual time because he had a big day ahead, and then went to bed himself after talking with his mother and Brad.
Jeremiah slept late on Saturday morning, which gave Jordan a chance to have a quiet cup of coffee and read the paper. He didn’t usually get one, but there had been one on his doorstep when he went out to get a breath of fresh air. Jordan spread the paper out on the table as he chewed his buttered toast.
Just about the time he was getting worried and thought he should check on Jeremiah, he came out, rubbing his eyes, holding a teddy bear Brad had bought for him when Jeremiah had first come to live with Jordan.
“Are you hungry?”
“Yeah. Is Mr. Pierre here yet?” Jeremiah looked around expectantly. It was all he’d talked about for the last two days. “I’m gonna ride in a police car. I told Scott, and he said only criminals ride in police cars. I told him he was a snot eater because I was gonna ride in one and so was my daddy, and we aren’t criminals.” He scrunched up his face and put his hands on his hips as though he were making a pronouncement from on high.
“You shouldn’t call people names,” Jordan said. “It isn’t nice.”
“Well, he called me potty breath! And Scott is a real doody head.”
Jordan turned away so Jeremiah wouldn’t see him laughing. The best course of action was to not react to things or they’d become part of his normal speech, especially if he got a rise out of Jordan. But still, the playground justice of four-year-olds boggled the mind. “No name-calling. Now, I’ll make you something to eat and you go get dressed. Pierre will be here this afternoon, so you can watch some TV if you want.”
Jordan tried to limit the amount of television Jeremiah watched. He�
�d gotten him building toys and enough Legos to create skyscrapers to the living room ceiling. He wanted Jeremiah to be able to do more than watch images on a screen. But sometimes he needed the chance to get things done, and the TV was a terrific babysitter for short periods of time.
He got Jeremiah’s breakfast and had it on the table when he came out in green from head to toe. It seemed it was a single-color kind of day. Some days he dressed in a rainbow of colors, and others he was monochromatic as all get-out. Today was one of those days. Jeremiah pulled out one of the stools and climbed up. He drank his juice and ate his toast with strawberry jam. Jordan finished his paper and cleared away the mess once Jeremiah had finished and was settled in front of the television.
Are we still on? Jordan texted to Pierre and set his phone on the counter where he could see it.
The response was quick. Yes. Is Jeremiah feeling okay?
He’s so excited. I swear, every car that passes, he checks to see if it’s you. Jordan sent the message.
Then are you ready? Pierre asked.
We can be…. He pressed Send and smiled at Pierre’s response.
I’ll be over soon. I’m just sitting here waiting.
Jordan grinned and sent an okay message. “Pierre will be here in a little while, so go in and wash your hands and brush your teeth. I’m going to get ready myself, and then we can go when Pierre gets here.”
Four-year-olds never walk anywhere—they run, hop, and jump, and when they’re excited, they try to do all three at the same danged time, especially when their own energy is more than they can contain. Jordan smiled and followed Jeremiah into the bathroom to make sure he didn’t flood the room like he’d tried to last week when he left the water running in the sink so he could play pirates.
“Get the toothpaste and toothbrush.” Jordan got his own, brushed his teeth and then shaved, helped Jeremiah wash up, and then left him in front of the television while he got dressed to go. Once he was in the clothes he’d picked out with Brad, he returned to the living room. Jeremiah sat on the sofa, but he jumped to his feet as the doorbell rang.