by Lisa Henry
“Hey,” Gio said.
Jason looked almost nervous. “Hey. I thought Taylor had forgotten something.”
“Is he okay?” Gio stuck his hands in his pockets.
“He is, yeah.” Jason smiled slightly, colour rising in his cheeks. “So, ah, yeah, we had that talk, and the good news is that Taylor thinks you’re cool.”
Gio raised his eyebrows, surprised. Of all possible outcomes, that wasn’t one he’d expected.
“He wants to know if you’re my boyfriend,” Jason said.
Gio lifted his chin and held Jason’s gaze. “Don’t . . .” He exhaled heavily. Then inhaled and started again. “Is he asking, or are you? Because that’s not a question you get to hide behind your kid.”
“Then I’m asking too.” Jason ducked his head and scrubbed a hand over his hair. “I’m asking first.”
Some of the tension that Gio had been holding bled away. “You mean spending time with you when we’re not fucking?”
Jason flushed. “Yeah.”
Gio tilted his head. “Openly?”
Jason nodded slowly. “Um, except maybe not right away? Give it some time, see how it goes? Coming out in this town—not just as bi, but coming out in a relationship—there’s no stepping back from that. We’d need to be really sure about it.”
Gio considered that for a moment. He’d always said—always—that he wouldn’t date anyone in the closet. There was too much associated bullshit that he didn’t need. He wasn’t going to get sidelined in his own relationship, and forced to play a friend, a flatmate, a guy from work. That wasn’t who he was.
But . . .
But things were different here. They had to police this fucking town, and they had to have a united front to do it. Not all compromise was capitulation, was it? Except now his tension was back, and his stomach was in knots.
“Okay,” he heard himself say, despite it. This might be a hell of a gamble, but he was willing to make it. He wanted to believe that Jason was worth it. He wasn’t certain he had that faith in anyone anymore, but he wanted to believe he did, that there was still some residue of hope and optimism inside him that Pete hadn’t quite managed to beat out of him. And if Gio was ever going to take a risk again, then why not now? Why not on Jason?
Jason raised his eyebrows. “Okay?”
“We see if it works,” Gio said, his heart beating faster. “If it does, we do it openly. If it doesn’t, nobody else needs to know.”
Jason’s sudden smile was almost enough to make Gio think he’d made the right choice.
Almost.
Three days. It took three days to go to shit. Somewhere in those three days—sitting down for dinner with Jason and Taylor, watching a movie together when the meal was over, and staying overnight instead of sneaking out in the darkness—somewhere, Gio started to feel at home. Not just with Jason, but with Taylor too. Somewhere in those three days he showed Jason how to make proper bolognaise sauce, in return was treated to one of the best home-cooked steaks he’d ever eaten, and learned that they’d changed the way maths was taught since he’d been in school and that he was totally fucked up by year five homework. Gio hadn’t even realised how lonely he’d been until suddenly he wasn’t.
They talked more in those three days than they had in the entire time Gio had been in Richmond. About Gio’s dad, and Sophie, and Pete, and the shit that happened down on the Coast, and Gio learned about Jason’s family as well. His parents in Cairns—Gio got the impression that relationship was strained. Jason also talked about Alana’s parents down in Victoria. Alana’s brother, who lived in England. Cousins Taylor would probably never meet, and the weird guilt Jason felt over that, even though Alana and her brother hadn’t been close to begin with.
Gio fell easily into the spaces that Jason opened up to him.
Three days.
Gio got the call about the assault on Castlereagh Street at 1 a.m. on Friday morning. He was dealing with a noise complaint out on Racecourse Road, but wrapped that up quickly and headed back into town. The ambulance was already parked outside the address on Castlereagh Street when he arrived, the strobes flashing against the weatherboard façades of the neighbouring houses.
Vicki had beaten him to the scene and gone in first.
And it only ever took a second for a job to go bad.
“Hey!” Gio yelled as he approached the knot of people jostling Vicki as she knelt over the prone woman on the ground. “Hey, back off!”
He elbowed through them and stood over Vicki. He caught a glimpse of her expression: fear and relief battling for dominance.
“Back off,” he repeated, one hand on his spray. Just in case. There were six of them, and they were drunk and belligerent. “Let her work.”
The drunks circled.
“Who called these cunts anyhow?” one of the drunks snarled, spittle flecking his grey whiskers. He puffed his chest out. “Who the fuck called youse anyhow?”
“Back off,” Gio said again, flicking the pouch holding his spray open with his thumb. He widened his stance, adrenaline flooding through him.
“Yah!” The drunk spat on the ground. “Fuckin’ copper cunts.”
“Vicki,” Gio said, not taking his eyes off the guy. “Get out of here.”
Gio heard glass breaking.
One of the other drunks lunged suddenly, and Gio leapt back. He was on his back foot, off-balance, and the second drunk was coming at him with a broken bottle. He caught the man’s swinging arm, and tried to force him back. For someone of his age and wretched condition, the man was surprisingly strong. Gio saw the grubby old fist of the drunk’s free hand in his line of vision, but couldn’t let go while the man was still wielding the broken bottle in his other hand.
There was a flash of white when the fist connected with his mouth, and then Gio was on the ground. He couldn’t see a thing, but the drunk still had hold of him. The man was on top of him, and he stank, and Gio realised he was tugging at something on his belt.
Adrenaline coursed through him, and he tasted blood in the back of his throat.
Vicki was screaming into her radio: “Urgent assistance! I need urgent assistance!”
Gio let go of the drunk’s arm, and brought his knee up sharply. He didn’t care what he hit—kidneys, stomach, groin. He just wanted to hurt him long enough to get the man off him. There were more hands pulling at him now, and kicks aimed at his ribs. The first drunk was still on top of him.
Gio reached for his taser. He needed to put some volts through this arsehole. There was dirt and sweat in Gio’s eyes, and he couldn’t see properly, but he felt the drunk’s bony hands around his throat. The man was trying to choke him.
He had to get out from under him before he blacked out. He pushed at the drunk, and saw a flash of frizzy blonde hair over the guy’s shoulder. Vicki was trying to wrench him free too. Together they managed it, and then Gio scrambled backwards on his knees. He drew his firearm.
“Back off!” he rasped, spraying blood. “Back the fuck off!”
His head throbbed, everything hurt, and three minutes ago he’d been standing on his feet. He didn’t know exactly what had happened, or how it had happened so rapidly.
He kept his firearm pointed at the drunks, afraid to blink. He panted for breath, Vicki on her knees behind him, and refused to let his hands shake.
The wail of the approaching siren was the most beautiful sound in the world.
The drunks broke and scattered like cockroaches, leaving only Gio, Vicki, and the unconscious woman behind.
Gio didn’t reholster his gun until Jason was by his side.
“Shit,” Jason said. “Are you okay?”
Gio tilted his head up. “Yup,” he said, not risking a nod. “Glad you got here so quick.”
“Shit, Gio,” Vicki said. “I’m sorry. I totally misread it. I shouldn’t have gone in. I should have waited.”
“’S’okay,” Gio said, still waiting for his heart to stop trying to beat out of his chest. “It’s okay.�
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Jason helped him to his feet.
To the hospital to get checked out and cleaned up, then the station to put his weapons in the safe; Gio was familiar with the routine at this point. It was almost dawn by the time Gio and Jason were walking across the yard towards home. He wanted to get into a hot shower to get rid of the taste of sweat and antiseptic. He wanted to curl up with Jason and fall asleep with him. Except . . .
“Jason,” he said, the word a little distorted by his busted lip. He pointed at Jason’s front steps.
Taylor was curled up at the top of the steps, wrapped in a blanket like a burrito.
Jason’s face fell.
“Go,” Gio said. “Look after him. I’ll be fine.” He smiled, despite the sour taste at the back of his throat.
How long had Taylor been sitting there waiting for his dad to come home before he’d fallen asleep?
How often did it happen?
And was Gio supposed to keep pretending it wasn’t an issue?
Three days.
Gio was dreaming of sunlight shining on skyscrapers. Steel and chrome and glass, and the glittering ocean stretching out beyond the horizon. It was so bright he couldn’t stare at it for long. The sand, white as chalk, burned the soles of his feet.
He woke up when his phone rang.
“Senior Constable Valeri,” a man said. “DDO Gordon. I thought I told you to stop getting flogged.”
“Um.” Blinking around his bedroom, it took Gio a moment for his brain to come online. The headache probably didn’t help. “Sorry, boss.”
“So you bloody should be,” the DDO said. “How are you feeling?”
“Not too bad,” Gio said, closing his eyes against the glare of the day.
“Good,” the DDO said. “And while I’ve got you, any more unsolicited mail you get out there, I want to know about it.”
“What?” Gio opened his eyes again, his heart skipping a beat as he thought of the Schmackos.
“Keep a log of it,” Senior Sergeant Gordon said. “Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” Gio’s hand shook. He’d told Jason that he didn’t want to report it. He’d told him.
“Get some sleep, hey? And I mean it this time, Valeri. Stop getting flogged.”
Gio had no idea how he kept his voice steady. “Okay, boss.”
The senior sergeant ended the call.
Gio climbed out of bed. He was numb. Some of that was fatigue, probably, but some of it was the anger building in his gut. Strange. It was there—he could feel it—but it was distant, disconnected somehow. His mind hadn’t worked out how to process it yet, what to do with it. Or maybe he’d just used up all his adrenaline last night and had none in reserve to fuel a burning rush of rage. His anger was contained. It was cold.
He pulled on jeans and a T-shirt, and stumbled into the bathroom to splash water on his face. His split lip was swollen, but it could have been worse. Vicki was okay, and that was the important thing. Gio could save the upcoming crisis of confidence over getting assaulted twice in the space of a few scant months for later. Was he projecting an attitude that immediately put people offside? He remembered one of the women from his graduating class at the academy years ago.
“Now she,” one of the trainers had said, “is going to take a few punches before she learns.”
Gio poked at his split lip and wondered if he had somehow developed the same sort of abrasive personality that made people want to punch him in the face.
That was to worry about after.
He returned to his bedroom and grabbed his phone. It was just past eleven. He shoved his feet into his unlaced trainers, locked the front door behind him, and set off towards the back of the station. Both police vehicles were still there.
Good.
The sensor on the back door cheeped as Gio held the tag on his keys against it. He opened the door when the lock clicked, and stepped inside the cool of the air-conditioning. He strode through to the small dayroom.
“Gio!” Sandra called from the counter. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
Gio caught sight of the CCTV monitor beside her computer. There was someone in the cell. He headed down the hallway, and peered in the window in the cell door. It was the guy who’d assaulted him.
Good.
“Gio?” Sandra called. “What the hell is your problem?”
Gio walked towards Jason’s office. He opened the door without knocking, and Jason looked up from behind his desk. “Gio?”
“You want to tell me why the DDO knows I’ve been getting mail?” His eyes stung, and he didn’t know if it was just from lack of sleep, or if maybe his anger wasn’t as cold as he’d thought. “I told you I didn’t want to make a complaint about it! I told you!”
“You’re not the only one getting mail, Gio!” Jason rose to his feet.
“What?”
“They sent me something too.”
“What’d they send you?”
Jason’s brow furrowed. “Ratsak.”
Gio let out a strangled laugh. “Succinct. To the point. Not exactly subtle though.”
He thought of Coop, for some reason. Coop, always with a smile on his face and a smart-arse comment on the end of his tongue. Had it been Coop? Coop, who’d sat beside him one night when they were doing surveillance on this guy, and proudly showed Gio pictures of his wife’s ultrasound. That was where it hurt the most. Coop had been his friend. They’d all been his friends.
Jason walked around his desk. “Gio.”
Gio stepped back. “It still doesn’t give you the right to get involved!”
“They got me involved.” Jason’s tone was steady.
“And now you’ve dragged me back in!” Gio shook his head. “You should have just left it alone! They baited you, and you took it, and now they’ll escalate!”
“Gio, they can’t touch you here.” Jason put a hand on his shoulder.
“Oh, fuck off!” Gio shook him off. “Don’t patronise me. I told you! They had photographs of my niece’s day care!” He sucked in a shaking breath. He’d thought Jason understood, or at least that he respected Gio enough to abide by his decision. But here Gio was again, getting dragged back into the middle of the shit-storm he’d only barely clawed his way out of, and it was Jason doing it to him this time. The betrayal burned more than he wanted it to, because it wasn’t just Gio’s trust that had been broken, it was his fragile hope as well. He’d thought they were building a relationship. He’d thought that maybe there was a future in it. Not now though. Not fucking now. “You had no right to do that, Jason. No right.”
“It’s workplace bullying,” Jason said.
“This is about my family, Jason! My niece!” His voice cracked.
“If I don’t report it, I’m complicit in it.”
Gio choked out a bitter laugh. “Oh, so now you want to follow the letter of the law, do you? You?”
Jason’s expression shuttered.
Gio wanted to hurt him as much as he was hurting.
“What section of the Criminal Code is it?” he asked, his voice raw. “Three-sixty something? Something about leaving a child under the age of twelve unattended for an unreasonable amount of time?”
“Don’t.” Jason’s voice was cold.
“Don’t what?” Gio asked. “If I went round to Janey Ferguson’s house and found out she’d left her kids alone for hours at night, you’d expect me to report it. Wouldn’t you?”
Jason didn’t answer.
“Wouldn’t you?” Gio demanded.
“If I hadn’t left him alone last night, who the hell knows what would have happened to you and Vicki.”
Gio shook his head. “Don’t pretend last night was the only time, Jason. Don’t pretend you’ve never ducked out for a noise complaint in the middle of the night and left him sleeping. Don’t pretend you don’t know what could have happened that day with the microwave if I hadn’t been next door.”
There was a line. There was always a line with any person, and Gio had known
from the start exactly where to find Jason Quinn’s. The man lived and breathed for Taylor. It was the easiest thing in the world to reach inside Jason and hurt him the way he’d hurt Gio.
Gio lifted his chin. “If I don’t report it, Jason, then I’m complicit in it.”
He didn’t flinch. Not even when he saw the flash of anger in Jason’s eyes. Not when it took him right back to his apartment on the Coast and it was Pete standing in front of him instead, and if Gio knew one thing in the world, if there was one truth on which he could balance everything he knew, it was this: he’d crossed the line and he was going to get his second fist in the face in less than a day.
Jason was going to punch him, but Gio wasn’t going to flinch.
Jason’s storm-grey eyes blazed. “Get out.”
Gio stared at him.
“Get the fuck out of my office, Senior Constable Valeri.” Jason’s chest rose and fell. “Get the fuck out of my sight.”
“Yeah.” Gio shook his head, his smile more of a sneer. “Sure thing, Sarge.”
He slammed the office door after him as he left.
Sandra stared at him, mouth open, as he stormed out of the station.
It wasn’t until he was halfway home again, surrounded by scrubby grass, that the fear caught him, and he struggled to catch his breath.
Fuck it.
Fuck Jason, and fuck the job, and fuck everything.
And fuck his life, most of all.
Jason waited for the call. From Gordy, probably. Maybe from higher up. The career-ending call that would tell him Gio had put in a report to Child Safety, naming Taylor as a victim. There was a good chance it wouldn’t stick. Not with Gio’s reputation as the guy who solved personal disputes with official complaints. And Jason was pretty sure that Sandra wouldn’t sell him out, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t true. He couldn’t provide Taylor with the level of care he needed—and the level of supervision the law required—and he hated himself for it.
“What section of the Criminal Code is it? Three-sixty something?”
Jason could have told him.