Lying Eyes

by Robert Winter

  What was left of Randy’s night was full of chaotic thoughts and self-recrimination. He found himself replaying every day with Danny as he tried to understand. So many clues had been right in front of him, and bile burned his throat as he added up his errors. He had asked too few questions. He had assumed Danny was attracted to him, and the nervousness the kid showed was about handling a crush.

  Instead, Danny was actually working a con and was probably just afraid he’d be caught. Only Randy’s colossal ego had kept him from seeing it. He had no more idea whether Danny was really even gay than he did about Trevor.

  God, what if Randy had done it? What if he had let Danny into his bed? He’d be a monster instead of just an idiot. Not that he would ever have sex with an underage boy, but he still buried his face in his pillow in humiliation at the thought.

  But then Jack’s words about Randy being caught between two men came back to him in the lonely darkness. Kevin had taught him so much, but most importantly, he had taught Randy about honor. Trevor didn’t take away that honor; he just exposed Randy’s weakness and his vulnerability.

  It wasn’t bad that Randy wanted to protect, and if it sometimes made him a target for manipulative men like Trevor or Gates, well, he’d have to accept that risk as a consequence. The alternative—a closed heart, a cold shoulder to the world—would have made Kevin ashamed of him. And that would be a true tragedy.

  His thoughts circled around Jack as he slept inches away in the big bed. The man was so insightful. Randy’s side of the king mattress was sad and empty, and he wished he could forget what he knew about Sophie and London and everything else that occupied Jack’s life and marked him as off limits.

  To hell with principles, Randy thought savagely. What had those gotten him? He’d proven to be a fool, time and time again. What did he have to show for it all but an empty house and a closet full of leather?

  What might have happened if, on one of his strolls through London, he had run across a younger, unattached Jack? Would they have recognized something in one another then, something that would have brought them together before Sophie and Danny and Gates?

  Randy snorted softly at himself. Might-have-beens were useless. He was drawn to Jack, but the man was taken. He tried to help Danny, but the boy lied to him. All he could do was hold on to his honor, keep his friends safe, and live as a man Kevin and Luc would be proud to call their son. Anything less would mean he wasn’t worthy of Jack in any case.

  But when Jack woke and his sleepy brown eyes found Randy’s, his first thought was that principle did very little to protect one’s heart. A smolder started in Jack’s face. He could tell that Jack was hard under the covers, and he fought with everything in him to keep away. Please don’t push this. I’m not strong enough.

  The desire in Jack’s eyes melted away to sadness and understanding. He leaned in just enough to kiss Randy with his lips closed, then rolled the other way and got out of bed. As he closed the bathroom door behind him he called out, “Perhaps you’d like to have some coffee and breakfast sent up?”

  Randy considered it, but he was frayed from the restless night and the turmoil in his stomach over Danny. Is he all right after the surgery? Why did he do it? He pulled on his own clothes, rank as they were, and ran hands over his scalp. His skin felt too tight as anxiety crawled into his gut.

  Suddenly he regretted staying the night with Jack. It was too close to the line he swore he wouldn’t cross, and it left him dirty. His voice sounded raspy and harsh to him when he called back, “I think I just need to get to the hospital.”

  Jack opened the bathroom door, a toothbrush in his hand. “Of course.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. He crooked his head slightly as he seemed to take in Randy’s tension and softly asked, “Can we talk soon?”

  “Sure.” Randy’s skin itched and he had to get away. That was probably why he added, “We still have to discuss the painting.”

  Jack inhaled sharply. “That isn’t what I… Never mind.” He looked away at the rumpled bed and refused to meet Randy’s eyes any longer. “Please let me know if Danny will be all right. You can leave a message here at the hotel if I’m out.” Hurt radiated from him but Randy didn’t know how to fix it. How to fix anything.

  In his poshest tone, Jack said, “When you’re up to it, we can schedule a time to address the painting. I expect the police would like me to be available, so I’ll arrange with my museum to stay in Washington another week or so.”

  • • •

  Randy rolled into the hospital later, sure that he looked like shit but not caring, to find Torres already there and talking to Dr. Gannon. He approached in time to hear the doctor say, “He’ll be weak from blood loss for several days, but recovery from the wound will take considerably longer than that. I assume you’re going to put him in an infirmary at the Central Detention Facility. It would be a good idea to let me or someone on my team handle the transfer and communicate directly with the attending physician there.”

  When Torres spotted Randy, she excused herself and escorted him to Danny’s room. To the uniformed man outside, she said, “Officer Carson, this is Mr. Vaughan. He’s authorized to speak with Winiarski.” As Carson held the door open to the room, Torres touched Randy compassionately on the shoulder but let him enter alone.

  Danny lay with a clear IV dripping to one arm and a bag of blood to the other. His right wrist was cuffed to the hospital bed. His eyes were closed, so Randy said nothing and just grabbed a padded vinyl chair from the wall and moved it next to the bed. He sat and waited.

  Without opening his eyes, Danny said, “I didn’t figure I’d ever see you again.”

  Randy cleared his throat. “I need to understand. I think you owe me that much.”

  Danny rolled his head toward the sound of Randy’s voice but kept his eyes squeezed shut. He said roughly, “I can’t look at you, Randy. I’m so ashamed.”

  “Keep ’em closed then. Just explain.” More softly, he added, “Please.”

  Danny sighed. “You know most of it. My mom and me, we always struggled. People knew she was married to a con and that made it hard for her to get a good job. But she wouldn’t move away because she wanted to be able to see my dad as much as she could. They really loved each other. She wanted me to know him, even though he was in jail.

  “I always understood what he did. I mean about the drugs and the shooting. They were both honest with me. But the man I got to meet once a month, he tried so hard to be better. He worked in the prison library and got a degree online. He became a drug counselor to other inmates. I bet you never knew any of that, did you?”

  “No. I checked every so often to see if he was still in prison, to make sure I didn’t miss a hearing or anything. When the Maine authorities contacted me about his requests for resentencing, I went to be heard by the court. I went for my uncle and for his partner Luc, because he couldn’t make himself face your father after what he did.”

  Finally Danny opened his eyes and they were shiny with unshed tears. “I’m so sorry my father took Kevin from you. But my dad was a kid when that happened. Almost the same age I am now. He made a terrible mistake and he’s paid for it. He’s still paying for it. When my mom died, he couldn’t come to the funeral. He…” Danny choked off with a sob.

  Randy waited while he got himself together. When Danny was able to speak again he continued. “I told you the truth about losing the place we rented. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to move away and abandon my dad, but I didn’t know how to keep my head above water. I kind of hated you, because I knew you made sure he didn’t get released and there I was, poor, homeless, and with no family. I thought I’d have to…. Well, it was a bad time.”

  Randy waited but Danny went silent. Finally, he prompted, “Was that when Gates found you?”

  “Yes. He told me he needed help getting something from you and that he believed he’d be able to persuade you to change your mind about my dad. I had nothing to lose, and I didn’t know you exce
pt for pieces of paper in my dad’s file and that one time I saw you at the resentencing hearing.

  “So Bernard got it set up. Everything made sense when he explained it at first. Bernard wanted me to have sex with you because he figured we could blackmail you.” Danny reddened. “I didn’t lie to you about my age, but he thought pictures of you having sex with a teenager would be enough to get you to do what he wanted. Anyway, it didn’t work. You didn’t want me.

  “Then he said I should try to be friends with you so maybe you’d offer me a job and I could nose around. He hung around outside Mata Hari to watch you but he didn’t want to go into the bar as a customer in case you recognized him. He thought maybe you hung the painting there, or maybe I’d be able to get more out of you.”

  Danny stopped talking and just stared at Randy for a long stretch before he said, “The thing was, even though Bernard had done all this research into you, he didn’t take it seriously. You know? He didn’t get that the protective thing is really you. When you asked me to come to your house, no strings attached, I already knew I’d made a big mistake. But I didn’t know how to get out of it. If I told you the mugging was staged, you’d kick me out and there was no way Bernard would help me at that point. I figured I’d stick around and get some information and maybe…”

  He paused again, and Randy asked softly, “What did you think would happen?”

  Danny blushed. “I was hoping maybe you’d start to like me. Like I liked you. That wasn’t an act. I’ve never met anyone as kind as you and I thought, maybe if you wanted me, I could tell you the truth and you’d help me.”

  Randy blew out a breath in frustration. “You could have told me the truth anyway, Danny.”

  “I was scared how you’d react,” he mumbled. “At first, I didn’t think I was going to have to do anything really bad. I looked around the house and your workshop when I was alone but I couldn’t find the painting Bernard wanted. He’d already stolen the letter from Fraser but I told him about the visits to you at Mata Hari. I asked you about art to get you talking, but it was also because I was really interested. I gave Bernard information about the bar. I didn’t know he was going to break in, I swear. When you took off Sunday night after the alarm I called his cell to warn him you were coming, but it was because I was afraid you’d get hurt. Like, he’d ambush you or something.”

  Randy shook his head. “Danny, how can you say you weren’t doing anything bad? You had to understand what was happening when you lured me to the warehouse.”

  He turned his head toward the pillow to hide from Randy’s direct gaze. He whispered, “I knew that was bad. I didn’t know Bernard was going to knock Jack out. When he called me to come meet him, Jack was already unconscious and Bernard told me to go to his hotel to look for his proven-whatever. I didn’t know what to do.”

  He rolled his head back to look at Randy. “I was sure you could fix it, if you were there. So I called you and then I… I sat there like a Judas.” Tears welled in his eyes and began to run down his cheeks. “You did so much for me. You fed me and gave me money and clothes and you wanted me to go to college and I still let Bernard stick that needle into you.” He started sobbing and threw his uncuffed arm over his eyes, heedless of the IV needle.

  Randy didn’t know what to do or how to feel, but he couldn’t take the misery pouring out of the boy. Thomas was right. Once he gave his loyalty, he didn’t know how to withdraw it.

  He leaned forward and scooped Danny awkwardly into a hug. Danny threw his free arm around Randy’s neck and clung to him like he was drowning. Maybe he was. He just kept saying against Randy’s neck, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  Minutes passed, and eventually the storm ebbed. When Danny seemed to have stopped crying, Randy let him down so he could wipe his cheeks with the heel of his hand. He seemed more focused after the emotional jag and Randy pressed on. “Can you tell me the rest?” he asked. “I really need to know.”

  Danny blinked at him with red-rimmed eyes. “Okay.” He exhaled heavily. “It was the only way I could think to help Jack. Bernard needed your help, so I figured he couldn’t really hurt you. Once he stuck you, I helped him load the cart, but it was so I could bring you to where Jack was. Please believe me.”

  Randy’s voice was rough when he answered. “I get it. If you warned me, Gates could have done something else to Jack maybe. Something worse.”

  Danny nodded. “I tried, though. When I took Jack’s key card and went to the hotel to search for his, what’d ya call it, provenance papers, I left a note.”

  “Why didn’t you call me when you were away from Gates?”

  Danny blinked. “I was in so far I didn’t know how to explain.” He sniffled. “I’m so dumb. All I can say is, I was scared and I just thought—”

  “You had to get me there.” Randy focused on the toe of his boot. “Why’d you jump in front of me, when Gates was waving the gun around? You must have known you could get shot.”

  When he looked up, Danny was staring at the foot of his bed. Finally he mumbled, “You see someone you can help, you do it.”

  Randy’s throat hurt. He remembered saying those words the night they met, when he brought Danny into his home.

  He couldn’t know exactly what had been happening in Danny’s head when Gates pointed the gun, but maybe, just maybe, Randy had made a difference to him after all. Maybe it wasn’t all an act. Thomas said to trust his instincts, and they told him Danny was telling the truth.

  Danny looked at the cuff around his wrist. “I know I’ll probably go to jail for helping Bernard. I deserve that for what I did to you and Jack. But if you could just meet with my dad, just once, it would mean everything to me. I’ll plead guilty or whatever you need so I don’t make any more trouble than I already have. But please. Please don’t hold what I did against my dad.”

  Randy stared at him for a long while. Even with all the shit running through his head, he came back to one thing, over and over again. “You took a bullet for me. I don’t know if I can help you with the DC police, but I’ll do what you want. I’ll go meet your father and see what I think. No promises, but I’ll at least meet with him.”

  Danny grabbed for his hand, though the cuff pulled him up short. Randy met him halfway in a clasp. “Thank you. I don’t deserve it but thank you for doing this.”

  Do any of us get what we deserve? Randy wondered. Kevin spent his life trying to help people and died for it. Danny wanted a father, but Randy denied him. Randy finally admitted to himself that he craved a future with someone, but the man he would choose was claimed.

  It isn’t about what we deserve, but whether we can help.

  He released Danny’s hand and brushed away hair that fell over his eyes. “Get some rest now. I’ll see what I can do.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Randy called Torres when he left Danny’s hospital room and asked her to think about talking to the prosecutor regarding a plea deal for Danny. “He fucked up, but he’s a kid. Look, will you check with Jack to see if it’s true that Danny left a note in his hotel room? I know it’s not much, but he was trying to find a way to help.”

  Torres sighed. “You’re a pain in my ass. Can’t you just let the little bastard go to jail and move on?”

  “You know I can’t, Maria.”

  “I know.” She was silent for a beat, then said, “Okay. I’ll check with Fraser and if this pans out, I’ll at least talk to my captain. See what he thinks about me bringing it to the prosecutor.”

  Next he called Christian Fong at the law firm to ask him to set up a meeting with Jack about a custodial arrangement for the painting. “Do whatever’s smart,” he instructed his lawyer, “but I’m ready to let this happen. If there are good reasons for taking the canvas to England instead of testing it at the Smithsonian, I’ll trust your judgment.”

  Christian said, “Understood. I’ll call Mr. Fraser right away, and we’ll start with having his museum agree to foot the legal bill.”

  “Hey, whil
e I have you, do you know any criminal lawyers in town? I, um, I want to help someone out. I don’t think I can afford someone at your firm’s level, but if there’s a smaller law firm you know, maybe I could swing that.”

  “Hmm. Actually, a law school colleague of mine recently decided to hang out a shingle and start his own criminal defense practice. He’s done a fair amount of cases in what we call biglaw, meaning the large law firms. But since he’s newly on his own he might be willing to take on a matter for a reasonable fee.” Christian read him a name and phone number, then Randy signed off with his thanks.

  That left one call he needed to make.

  He dialed Jack’s hotel, and this time, Jack picked up in his room. As the smooth English voice said hello, Randy instantly grew more calm. “Jack, it’s Randy.”

  “I’m glad you called. How did it go with Danny?”

  “I, uh, I think he’ll be all right. Physically anyway. Legally, well, that’s up in the air. Oh, heads up. You’re going to get calls from Detective Torres about whether Danny left a note in your room, and from a lawyer named Christian Fong to talk about the painting.”

  “Actually, Detective Torres called me already. There was a note, sitting on the chest of drawers. I suppose we didn’t see it when we got in last night.” An awkward silence descended. Randy was sorry for the way he’d left things earlier, but he didn’t know how to make anything better. Jack cleared his throat and continued, “I’ve set it aside to deliver to the police. Danny wrote down where I’d been moved after the first warehouse. The handwriting is shaky, so I’d imagine he was terrified when he wrote it.”

  Randy gave a sigh. “I’m glad he did that. I don’t know if it will make a difference, and it was feeble, but it was at least something. He tried.”

  He could almost sense Jack nodding. “I agree. I don’t blame him for what happened to me, not really. He seems a naïve chap who had no idea what idiocy Gates got him involved in.”