The Hands

by Andrea Speed, A. B. Gayle, Jessie Blackwood, J. J Levesque, Katisha Moreish

  Waving as Miles left, Aiden turned to Flynn, eyebrow raised “Who’s Riley?”

  Flynn mentally debated a moment, but realized he couldn’t possibly keep another lie straight. “He was Vale’s old assistant. He disappeared mysteriously, and Mad Max there is looking into it. Since I’ve got a grudge against Vale, I’m trying to help.”

  “Oh. Mad Max? You mean Miles?” Flynn had a thing for nicknames, didn’t he? Aiden took the seat Miles vacated while Dante settled under the table. “Any luck finding information on him?”

  Flynn shrugged and shook his head at the same time. “I don’t think so. There doesn’t seem to be anything to find. He’s just gone.”

  “Do you think Vale had anything to do with it?”

  “Knowing him, probably. But I can’t prove shit.” Flynn slumped in his seat with a sigh, and tried to paste on a phony smile. He probably failed. “So, how was school?”

  Aiden could tell the smile wasn’t real, but he ignored that. “It was school. I can’t wait for vacation. First day out I think I’ll sleep all day.” He reached over the table and - without glancing around like he usually did - ran a finger over Flynn’s hand. He wondered if somehow he could help him, but what did he know? Only what came out of unrealistic mystery novels.

  Flynn gave him a half smile that was genuine for a change. “With me, I hope.” Holy shit, wasn’t he worried about this in the drugstore? He couldn’t get carried away with this! Besides, while Aiden was undeniably hot, he probably liked his guys smarter. Also, less felonious.

  “Of course with you. Who else?” Aiden smiled.

  Flynn smiled at him, and wondered if that was a rhetorical question. It would probably be better for Aiden if it was.

  Haven Falls #138 - Sharing

  Carter (Gil) Gillespie and Miles Sutherland

  _________________________________________

  Gil sat nursing a coffee in the cafeteria on his break, having carefully avoided the pastries this time. Far too much sugar. He was reading some of the information the local real estate agent had sent him, trying to decide if any of the properties were worth his time to visit. There was only one in Camden Hills, a nice looking place but it was a proper house, not an apartment. Gil wondered what Miles would think. He might ask him if he knew where it was.

  Miles wound his way around the tables, clutching his salad roll in one hand. He’d never get used to calling them a sub. Maybe if he lived in the States another few years. He spotted Gil sitting by himself at the table. Should he join him? It would seem strange if he didn’t. They were work colleagues after all. “Hospital food not your cup of tea, mate?” He pulled out a chair and eased himself into it. The sit-ups he’d started doing each morning were making his stomach feel like he’d been run over by a car.

  Gil glanced up and smiled. “Morning. Not really feeling like much right now.” He threw the papers onto the table and sighed. “Do you have a clue where this is?” He pushed the paper across the table toward Miles.

  Miles picked up the glossy realtor and glanced at the house. He’d noticed the sign out front while walking Roofie earlier. “Yeah, it’s in the street next to mine in Camden Hills. You still looking for a place to stay?” Shit, the thought of having Gil living so close was a bit unsettling. He gave himself a mental kick up the arse. Who was he kidding? He’d nearly suggested he sublet one of the spare rooms at his place the other day.

  Gil nodded. “I need a bigger place, just not sure if that’s too big. I want somewhere my folks could stay if they come over. A one bed apartment isn’t really enough. I’d like a kitchen I can cook in without tucking my elbows in and a proper bath. All I have right now is a shower room and I feel like I’m trying get clean in a shoe box. I tell you, I am getting claustrophobia.”

  While Gil spoke, waving his hands around as he usually did, Miles tried to squash images of him being pressed up against the wall in his own shower, not having any room to move but for an entirely different reason. Down boy! He was as bad as Roofie. Maybe he needed to go to Obedience School too... one designed to control impure thoughts about young paramedics and what he’d like to do to them. Maybe it was just as well he hadn’t opened his big mouth and suggested he share the huge house with him. “Will you be able to afford something that big?”

  “I have no idea. I’ll have to look at the figures tonight. I’d like to afford it, but I’d also rather not mortgage my soul as well. Maybe I should look at finding someone to share with.”

  “My place has three bedrooms, the kitchen is plenty big enough and although there’s no fancy spa, the shower can fit two or three people.” Shit, since when had his mouth stopped being wired to his brain? That just came out. Miles scanned another page of the realtor, pretending he was looking for another property. Maybe Gil hadn’t heard him. Hopefully Gil hadn’t heard him.

  Gil looked up at Miles. Had he heard right? Was that a hint? Or was he simply telling him what the properties were like around there? “I guess that means that one will be too big then.” Gil tapped the brochure, then sighed. “Looks like I’ll either need to find someone to share with me or ask around, see if anyone has room.” He sipped his coffee and waited.

  Miles peeled off the plastic film and took a bite of his roll, hoping some brilliant answer would flash into his brain before he had to swallow. In one way he wanted Gil to move in but in another he didn’t. Their relationship—if that was the word you could use—was already blurred enough. The lines between workmate and friend wavering like a mirage on hot bitumen. If they actually lived together it would be even worse. He finally managed to get the food down. “If you can’t find somewhere suitable, we can check to see what the rules would be about moving into my place. A fair rent could be established. The hospital board might be happy to have some of their expenses met, and I don’t mind.”

  Gil sipped his coffee and stayed quiet, studying the pages. “Move in with you, you mean?" he asked eventually. “Would you mind seeing me in my tighty whities in the bathroom? I tend not to wear anything when I sleep though...” Gil paused. He knew he was being provocative, naughtily so, but Miles brought out the worst in him somehow. “What about if I wanted to bring home...a guest, sometime? Would you have a problem with that?” Shit, why was he being such an ass? He liked Miles, there was something....Gil shook himself mentally. He could not put his finger on it where the doctor was concerned. The man was irascible, didn’t care about his appearance, was just about married to his work, but underneath it, Gil was sure there was a nice person just waiting his chance to break out. Miles was still vulnerable, grieving—Gil could identify with that at least—the man was hiding behind a facade.

  “Hm, I’m a boxer man myself.” Miles squirmed slightly as the images of Gil semi naked... naked in bed... in the shower... set off the inevitable reaction. “I’ll see what the powers-that-be say. And guests? You can have your parents or friends. I’m fine. I’m not there much anyway, and it’ll be good company for Roofie.” How pathetic is that Miles thought to himself. The next bite of his roll didn’t taste as good as the first. Heck, Gil was still young, he should be out there having as much fun as he could. “That’s as long as you don’t mind moving in with an old fart like me.”

  “Miles, you are not an old fart. Bloody Hell, man, you are less than ten years my senior. You act like you’re on the edge of retirement...” Gil was exasperated. “You’re not dead yet and you sure as hell are not pulling your bus pass, although your wardrobe could do with updating. That’s rather beside the point though. What you need is to have a little fun.”

  “What’s wrong with my clothes?” Miles glanced down at his brown dress pants and fawn polo shirt. They were the only ones that fit him now he’d lost an inch off his waist since he gave up the grog.

  Gil waved a hand in Miles direction. “You’re...well, you’re wearing work clothes...so I guess...” how to put this tactfully? “I’ve seen worse in guys your age...” shit, well done, very tactful. “You could show yourself off in a better l
ight, that’s all.”

  “I never know what to wear. Darren used to choose all my clothes for me.” Miles threw the rest of the roll down in disgust. The bloody thing tasted worse with each mouthful.

  “What’s up? Not as nice as you thought?”

  “Nah. Lost my appetite.” Miles stared at the mess on the plastic film. Bit like his life really. Half over and the rest definitely unappealing. “I hear you saved Jason Biggs life again yesterday.”

  “I tried. No idea if he survived or not. That’s Asher Bay’s problem, not mine. I did my bit, intubated, put in a chest drain, set up the IV, we managed to get him stabilised, but after that...I handed over to the heli-med team and that was that. Brought Asher back to the hospital, and the rest you know.”

  “Sounds like you did a good job. I should have trusted you more the other day. And Asher? I managed to put his shoulder back in place. Millie Broadbent thought he should stay the night. Tried to boss him around, but he left. He didn’t need to stay. Maybe she was just angling for tickets for the opening.”

  “Well, I tried to bear in mind what you taught me the other day. I have to know when to leave well alone.” Gil smiled thoughtfully. “And after last night, Asher is one thing I am leaving well alone. Not sure how I feel about someone who can get involved with that kind of thing.”

  “Sorry, I’m confused here. What’s Asher gone and done, now?”

  “Not sure how much I should say, but hell, nobody has told me to keep quiet about it. The reason Jason was shot and Asher ended up with a damaged shoulder.” Gil drained his coffee before continuing. “Last night, whatever went down at the Yardley place didn’t make sense. Asher’s sister was kidnapped by someone called Kingston, Asher’s ex-. The guy had apparently escaped from jail and came here to cause trouble for Asher. One of the men with Asher was DEA, but this was a kidnapping, they were trying to rescue Asher’s sister. So how come two civilians, Asher and Jason, were involved? It just doesn’t add up. Christ, it’s like a second rate Chuck Norris movie. Kingston--”

  “That’s a tautology isn’t it.”

  “A what?”

  “Second rate... Chuck Norris. Sorry, I interrupted you, go on. You were saying something about Kingston.”

  “Kingston shot Jason and one of the others shot Kingston. Tautology?” Gil raised an eyebrow.

  Miles looked up in surprise. “Sorry, you seem so cluey on so many things. You know so many medical terms. It’s a dig that Chuck Norris only ever does second rate movies. Repeating the same thing twice. Oh heck, now you’ve got me doing it as well.”

  “Miles...I know what a tautology is, just...seemed a bit intellectual to use when describing a Chuck Norris movie, that’s all.” Gil was grinning as he said it.

  Miles grinned back. At least poms had better senses of humor than most of the Yanks he’d met so far. Except for Flynn. He seemed the one exception. “Never mind. You were saying that there was a bit of shooting going on and Asher was....”

  “In the thick of it. What the hell was he doing? His sister was only concerned with the fact that the guy should be her collar, considering it was her he had kidnapped in the first place. Why was Asher working with DEA?”

  “The man keeps a pretty tight lid on things from what I can tell. He didn’t say much when I fixed his shoulder, just checked to see if I was coming on Saturday night, as cool as you please.”

  Gil stopped wondering if he should invite Miles to the opening night. Asher had already performed that task then. The man needed to get out more. Lyle was probably expecting to be his only guest at the Steele.

  “None of my business anyway. I have no wish to get involved with whatever dodgy shit Asher is up to. I really do not want to know.” Gil said firmly.

  Miles handed back the realtor. “Well, the offer still stands. I’ll have a word with the board just in case.”

  “In answer to your question, yes, I could put up with--what did you call yourself--an old fart?” Gil smiled his best attempt at a disarming grin, all thought of Asher put aside.

  “Speaking of old farts. What is one supposed to wear to a nightclub opening these days? Maybe before Saturday night I should go into Body Rok and see if they’ve got anything my size.”

  “Isn’t there anything in Asher Bay?” Gil asked. “I went by Body Rok the other day, didn’t look like it sold clothing. Unless you fancy a frilly negligee or leather chaps, that is.”

  Miles laughed. “I don’t know. If it had a pretty blue bow, I might be tempted. And frills. I like frills.” Shit, leather chaps. He wondered whether he still had the pair he’d bought when he and Darren had flirted with the leather scene soon after their return to the States.

  The words ‘Miles’ and ‘frills’ shouldn’t occupy the same sentence, Gil thought. He hoped Miles was joking, the tone was definitely dry anyway. “Why don’t we go shopping together?” Gil suggested, “You could show me Asher Bay, I’ve not been there yet.”

  “Would you? I suck at choosing clothes. Not that I’m really looking forward to it. The bloody thing’s on tomorrow night. Doesn’t leave us much time. What’s your schedule?”

  “I’m off shift early this afternoon. We could go tomorrow morning, or is leaving it until tomorrow too late?”

  “I’ve got an appointment tomorrow morning. But I’ve got a couple of hours free this afternoon. How about we go then?”

  “Fine. Your car?”

  “Yes, Unless you’d rather drive?”

  “No, not me. I’m hopeless. I was saying to Lance I need drivers’ ed classes. I’m not safe behind a wheel. I didn’t use the free right turn rule, I nearly ran poor Lyle off the road...” Gil looked embarrassed. “I was walking home one night and Lance nearly ran me over because I was looking the wrong way. I hate driving on the wrong side of the road. Besides, all I have is my bike. Don’t think they’d appreciate me borrowing the rig for an afternoon shopping, do you?”

  Haven Falls - #143: Burgeoning Curiosity

  Lyle Ashley Tate

  (with mentions of Flynn Archer, Carter ‘Gil’ Gillespie, Miles Sutherland & Henry Vale)

  __________________________________________

  Lyle was shocked when he met Bernie. Vale hadn’t warned him he was going to be collecting a kid. It was sobering contemplating the death of a child. His own childhood had been trying, hurtful, miserable even at times, but at least he was here to tell the tale. Not that he had anyone to tell the tale to, of course. This boy’s story was ended before it was begun and Lyle couldn’t help but feel that was wrong.

  Vale, the ‘bier baron’ of Haven Falls, had passed his work on Mrs. Ferguson with relatively few criticisms and had then given him the go-ahead to attempt Bernie’s make-up too. Lyle acknowledged that an aged woman was always going to take more easily to the application of cosmetics than a male child ever would. This had been a much harder task, but Lyle was proud of his efforts in fixing the lad up, whilst being sure Vale would want to re-do at least some of the work.

  Lyle patted Bernie’s hand gently and then closed the lid on the child-sized casket. He hoped the kid’s family had sprung for a wig; even the very best paint job wasn’t going to return Bernie to the smiling, happy little soul in the picture they had provided of him. Cancer was a bastard way to go... Lyle reflected bitterly, though not as bad as a shotgun blast to the head, cosmetically speaking.

  That thought brought him onto the matter of Flynn Archer and his beef with Henry Vale. Lyle really didn’t intend in getting involved there, but he couldn’t help but wish the younger of the two men would let go of whatever it was, ideally before it saw him added to the list of people needing the special type of make-over only provided by funeral homes. That Flynn seemed convinced he was somehow involved with Vale in ways other than a simple employee, in some kind of nefarious goings-on, was peeving to Lyle. He couldn’t quite work out why it bothered him what the mouthy kid thought of him, though.

  Quite what Vale might be up to, Lyle didn’t really want to know. There were vario
us scams that might find their way into a funeral home’s practises, even down to selling the corpses or parts thereof. Maybe that was what Flynn had been suggesting when he told him to ask Vale ‘about the hands’? So far, though, Lyle had seen nothing to make him think Vale’s business was anything but kosher, apart from the contratempt between the him and Flynn.

  Miles had made him wonder about his predecessor, Riley, too. The doctor had asked if he knew what had happened to him. He didn’t, but he was curious to find out. Asking Vale straight out probably wasn’t a good idea, though. Lyle wondered where Riley had lived? Miles would presumably know, but had probably already asked Riley’s old neighbours? What had Riley been to the doctor?

  It was near to home time now, so Lyle straightened the place up and then got ready to leave. He was working tomorrow as well; Mrs. Ferguson was going on her way, and Vale had instructed him on the protocols for driving the relatives to and from the burial, which would be his role in the proceedings. Following the coach with the customer in would at least mean he couldn’t get lost. Lyle doubted the company cars had sat-nav, somehow. Lyle hoped Mrs. Ferguson’s ‘do’ would run smoothly; he didn’t want to end up running late tomorrow, since he had a hot date. The mere thought of Carter Gillespie made Lyle’s mouth go dry and his skin heat up; he was very much hoping that his date with the town’s new paramedic would go smoothly too. Lyle decided he should pick up booze, lube and condoms on his way home; always best to be prepared!

  Prepared? Yeah. Like he was prepared in any way at all for dating someone! Lyle thought. He hadn’t been out with anyone since Richard, over eight years ago, and that had been a very different set-up to now; Lyle felt he didn’t even know the rules of this new ball game, let alone how to play. Would Gil be willing to show him the ropes? Oh god, Lyle, don’t even think of Gil and ropes in the same breath! Tomorrow was going to be an interesting day, though Lyle truly hoped it wouldn’t be ‘interesting’ in the way the Chinese used that word; ‘living in interesting times’ was something Lyle could well do without, having been there more often than he cared to think in the past!