Rogue Nights
Page 28
“He’s got a prison record. Armed robbery conviction at twenty-two when his boy was two-years old. Got out at the halfway mark on a five-year stint because he was a first-timer and a model inmate. Got his GED and learned a trade in construction.” I’d found his file on my desk after Judah had left and I read it from cover to cover. I was never going to have enough will power to resist anything about Judah Nighthorse. I’d known that thirty seconds after I’d first met him.
“Well, good for him doing the shit he needed to do to change his life. All of that just makes it a bigger challenge for you but you can work with it,” Neal countered and then he asked the inevitable question. “Where’s the boy’s mom?”
“Gideon’s mom was April Windrunner.” That fact had punched me in the gut when I’d read it in the social worker’s report and the newspaper clippings contained in the file.
“Oh my God. That poor kid,” Neal murmured. “They never did find her killer, did they?”
“Nah. Just like all the others.” It was another thing the Project was working on, the high rate of missing and murdered native women and the very low solve rate. Another reason for me to take the case. If only it wasn’t Judah. “Judah was still in prison when she was murdered so Gideon went into foster care. Judah has been pursuing custody since he got out eighteen months ago. He’s been single-minded in his desire to get his son.”
“And that sounds exactly like the kind of case you take,” Neal observed, picking up his beer bottle again and taking a drink. “The only difference is that the person you’d be helping is the hot piece of ass you almost chucked Harvard for.”
Punching him in the arm was an instinct and the growl that had replaced my usual speaking voice surprised us both. “Don’t ever talk about him like that. Don’t fucking do it. Not him.”
Neal grinned with the bottle next to his mouth. “And that is why you’re balking at taking this case.
Shit. He’d spun me up to get a reaction. I’d be pissed at him but it wouldn’t do any good and he was right. So damn right. He wasn’t done but this time all of the humor was gone from his voice, pitched lower with his honesty.
“It wouldn’t kill you to have somebody, Adam. You spend your life doing good things, fighting the good fight but those people never get too close. You never let anyone get too close.”
I scoffed, finishing off my beer in two gulps. “You’re not suggesting that I get involved with Judah again, are you?”
“Why not?” He shrugged. “Maybe not him. But I’m suggesting that you get involved with somebody. Not a cause. Not an issue. A person. Judah. Another guy. Just somebody.”
“That’s the thing about people who are living happily ever after, Neal. You guys think it’s the only way for everyone else to live.”
“All I’m saying is that Judah is the last time I saw you live at all.”
3
Judah
I heard the vehicle before I saw it.
The silver pickup truck pulled into the driveway alongside the place where I was working on the deck. I didn’t recognize it, it wasn’t one that was often on the Rez but I knew the driver the minute his long frame uncoiled from the driver’s seat. Adam was sexy-as-hell in worn jeans, a dark blue t-shirt, work boots and sunglasses. I couldn’t see his eyes behind the sunglasses but I knew he was focused on me. Adam’s attention had always been like a physical touch to me, solid and impossible to ignore.
A kid starved for any kindness, any caress. He’d made me feel special when he’d seen me.
Adam walked up the steps and over to where I was standing. I slipped off my gloves and safety goggles and pulled the elastic from my hair. I needed to keep it out of the tools and machinery at work but I preferred to wear it down when I could.
Adam stopped in front of me and placed my file folder on the work table.
“You left this in my office the other day,” he said, taking off his sunglasses and hanging them from the neckline of his t-shirt. He slid his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels, so much like the teenager I had known a decade ago. Sexy with a mixture of shyness and bold thinking that made him irresistible. But he wasn’t looking me in the eye.
I looked down at the file, running my fingers over the creased paper. I squinted up at him in the sunlight. “Did you read it?”
That got me a an all-too-quick-glance. “Would you be mad if I did?”
“I’d be a huge dumbass to get mad at you for reading a file I brought for you to read in the first place. Come on inside.” I turned the power off my saw, grabbed the folder, and motioned for him to come inside the house. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Sure”
I led him through the back door into my small kitchen. It wasn’t much to look at but I had fixed it up over the last eighteen months. Adam had grown up in a much bigger house than this but he’d never minded any part of the Rez. But there was a big difference between our money situations and just like in most things, money and everything it could bring you ended up being the thing that drove us apart.
I opened my fridge and fished out two waters, handing one to Adam where he leaned against the cabinets. “I have soft drinks if you want one. I don’t keep alcohol in the house.” I shrugged at his raised eyebrows. “My dad.”
Adam paused and then nodded, “I remember.”
I watched him as he looked around, taking in the kitchen and then the living room just beyond. I wondered what he thought of my house. The furniture and cabinets were used but I had refinished it all with new paint or stain or a slip cover. He was hard to read but there was the warm flicker of admiration in his gaze. The surge of pride in my gut made me realize just how much I wanted Adam to approve of my house.
“Nice place.”
“Thanks,” I smiled at his words and shifted to take in the space that I had made our own. “I have two bedrooms, perfect size for me and Gideon. I made a deal with the landlord. Cheap rent and I fix it up. I’m good with my hands.”
Adam’s cheeks flushed with heat and while it looked like embarrassment, the heat in his gaze and the tremor in his hands when he lifted his bottle to his mouth hinted that it might be something more. Or it was my imagination remembering our past and thinking of shit that was never going to happen. He was just so fucking gorgeous. I’d have had to be dead to not notice and I’d have to my memory erased for me to forget just how good it had been between us.
“Yeah, I remember,” he said, taking a sip of water. He broke eye contact with me and shifted, pushing off from where he was planted and standing upright. “Look, Judah, I’m sorry—”
I opened my mouth to cut off what was no doubt going to be the final brush-off but I the crash of bodies coming through the back door had us both turning around. Oliver led the way, his mouth running a mile-a-minute as usual. Gareth was next through the door, his hands full of food bags and his expression the typical amused but warm look he always had around his boyfriend.
But it was third person stepping into the kitchen that had my complete and total attention.
Gideon.
My world.
“Look, kid, all I’m saying is that you’re not supposed to take your cat into a restaurant,” Oliver tossed over his shoulder as he placed a couple of 2-liters on the counter next to the bags of food.
“Fat Dave isn’t just a cat,” Gideon said, his arms full of the animal currently the center of the discussion. “Fat Dave is the best cat. Fat Dave is incredibly smart and the most handsome.”
“That cat?” Oliver leaned down and close the feline, making a big show of looking him over. “That cat is a lot of things but handsome isn’t one of them.”
Oliver was not wrong. Fat Dave was fugly. A skinny, orange cat with one eye, and a broken stump of a tail. Also, Fat Dave was a girl.
Gideon froze and leveled a glare at Oliver that had the rest of the adults in the room taking a step back. “Sure, pretty boy.”
Oliver gasped and I covered my mouth to try and hide the snort of laughter.
“Oh yeah, Neal talks about you all the time. I love your work,” Adam said, stepping forward to extend a hand to them both.
Gideon wasn’t done and he ignored us all. “Fat Dave is the best-looking cat in the whole world. That Auntie was mean not to let her go into the restaurant with me.”
I moved over and kneeled down next to my son. I placed my hand on his head, loving the silk of his hair and the simple fact that he was here next to me. Too many years looking at him across a table in the family visiting room had made this act of simple touch a miracle to me. His little body was rigid with his irritation and while his irritation was hilarious it made me proud that he was such a little badass.
“Gideon, you know that Fat Dave isn’t allowed in places like that. He’s not a service animal.” My boy turned his full glare on me and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop from laughing. “You can take him in the truck but not inside. That’s the rules.”
“I don’t like the rules. Fat Dave is my best friend,” Gideon said, letting Fat Dave loose when the cat squirmed in his arms. He looked over to where Adam was standing. “Who are you?”
“Umm … I’m Adam.” He gestured towards me. “I’m an old friend of your dad.”
Fat Dave did his cat slink thing across the floor, stopping at Adam’s feet and I knew from her cat butt shimmy thing that he was going to launch himself at Adam. I jumped up, trying to stop her but I was too slow and she scaled his long body like a tree, stopping only when she was perched on his shoulder. I reached out for her and got the hiss I was expecting. What I wasn’t expecting was how she wrapped her body around his neck like she was staking her claim.
“Ummmm,” Adam’s hands flailed around, finally pointing to the natty ball of fur giving his best impersonation of a winter scarf. He closed his eyes, blinking rapidly and then sneezing. “I’m allergic to cats.”
“Oh shit. Sorry.” I reached again for Fat Dave but she hissed again and I looked at Gideon, my hands splayed out in a plea for help. “Gid, can you get Fat Dave off Adam before she kills him?”
Gideon sighed. He sighed the sigh of the young when they are tasked with saving all the old people from themselves. Some people might have yelled at him for being a smartass but my little man was old before his time, smart because his old man wasn’t and his mom was gone too early. I took the scorn like a man.
“Come on, Fat Dave,” Gideon held out his arms and the cat unwound herself from Adam’s neck and leapt down to her favorite human. The cat hated me but I forgave her because she loved my boy. The boy who was staring down Adam. “Are you staying for dinner?”
“I …” Adam looked at me, his eyes questioning.
I nodded. “Stay. We have plenty. Get to know my family.”
Adam locked eyes with me, wary and wavering, but he nodded. “Okay.”
“Cool. Come on Fat Dave, I’ll give you some BBQ,” Gideon said as he headed off towards the deck.
Oliver and Gareth grabbed the bags of food and followed him out, sparing us only the briefest of curious glances. I’m sure I’d get the third degree later but food had clearly won the battle right now.
“Grab the drinks and come on outside,” I told Adam, fishing out a stack of paper plates and napkins from the cupboard. “We’ll finish talking later.”
“I got them,” Adam said, picking up the bottles and following me towards the outside. “Hey Judah, you guys know that Fat Dave is a girl, right?”
I laughed.
4
Adam
“Do you want to see my room?”
Dinner had been delicious, picked up from a place on the reservation I’d passed on my way to Judah’s place. Rocky Boys had changed so much and not all in the years since I’d been here as a teenager. The socio-economic struggle of the residents was evident everywhere; this wasn’t a place of huge McMansions or bustling retail outlets. Folks here repurposed items past their prime and chose function over form when it came to their homes and vehicles but they were a tight community, banded together to create opportunity and support for their members. Yes, you might make mistakes but if you wanted to make a change, your people would walk with you every step of the way. It was the best choice for Judah as he navigated a new and better life for him and his son.
This wasn’t my first time back to Rocky Boys since my teenage years, my work brought me here a lot but this had been the first time I’d looked at things through the lens of the kid who’d driven these roads with a pounding heart and sweaty palms to visit a boy.
A boy I’d loved with every part of my being and the one who’d broken all those pieces into a million tiny shards of glass.
And now I was sitting on the deck of his home with his son asking me if I wanted to see his room.
The boy, Gideon, was intense and direct. He had a ferocity that sucked you in and held you at arm’s length at the same time. Where Judah was quiet and reserved, his son was loud and outspoken. And he was waiting for my answer.
I looked around the table at the other adults, my eyes finally resting on Judah. “If your dad says it’s okay.”
Judah smiled at me, not the rare full-on grin but his slow slide into a sensual and indulgent curve of his lips. I stared at his mouth, once again caught up in my memories of how they’d tasted and how I wondered whether they were still that delicious combination of sweet and spice.
“His room is pretty great,” Judah said.
“Well, then, I have to see it.”
When he nodded, I rose with Gideon, letting him lead me through the kitchen, living room and back to the bedrooms. We passed was must have been Judah’s room. It was spare: just a double bed with a quilt on top, an old dresser, and a bedside table. The stark simplicity of the room suited the quiet, straightforward man who’d made this place a home for the two of them. I caught the scent of him as I passed, a mix of wood and earth and the clean crisp of his soap.
Gideon stopped in a doorway and flung his arms out wide in a “ta-da!” gesture that made me smile. I liked this kid. I could do without the cat following us around and currently rubbing itself all over my legs. My eyes were itchy and my sinuses were warning me that they were going to make me pay later.
“What do you think?” Gideon flung himself on his bed, wiggling and pointing until I saw what he really wanted to show me.
“Holy crap. Is that a Spider-Man bed?” I asked, easing my way into the small room to get a better look.
Gideon sat up and flung his arms out again. “Yes! Isn’t it the coolest thing ever?” He fell back on the mattress again. “My dad made it for me.”
I kneeled down and traced the criss-cross of the web design that covered the sides of the bed. It was obviously hand-made, painted to emphasize the intricacy of the webs.
“Yeah. I found an old bedframe and some plywood and cut it out to look like he’s sleeping in a spider web.” I turned and found Judah leaning on the doorframe. He was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed in front of him, his t-shirt riding up on his bicep and exposing the black design of a tattoo that hadn’t been there the last time I’d had total access to his body. I gripped the wood frame a little tighter, tamping down the urge to reach out, lift the fabric, and explore the design. “He loves it.”
“No kidding. Who wouldn’t love this at seven? I want one now. But I’m a sucker for Captain America.”
“Ughhhhh,” Gideon sat up on his bed, rolling his eyes. “You sound like my Dad. He likes Captain America because he thinks he’s cute.”
“Well, make that two of us. I think he’s cute too.”
&n
bsp; Gideon scooted forward, his head tipped to one side as he considered me. I could tell he was trying to decide on the question. I’d only met him tonight but I knew he wasn’t hesitating to ask, he was just trying to pick the one he wanted.
“Are you gay?” I wasn’t expecting that one so it set me back a moment.
“I am,” I said. “Are you okay with that?”
He narrowed his dark eyes at me and when he spoke his voice was coated in sarcasm that people twice his age couldn’t carry off. “My Dad is bisexual. He likes boys and girls. I’m totally okay with it.”
I cut a look at Judah and found him biting his lip to stop from laughing. “Well, I’m okay with it too.”
My answer must have satisfied him because he lurched off the bed and shot through the door, yelling at Oliver and Gareth to get the bat and ball to play catch in the yard. I rose to my feet, chuckling along with Judah.
The room was small and we were both big men. The right side of my body brushed along his as I gained my footing and we both stilled, the air between us tight with awareness and electricity. The silence expanded between us and I took the chance to examine his face, trying to catalog the differences. There were lines where they hadn’t been before and I could see some silver is his black hair but he was still Judah. The one and only Judah.
“Gideon looks like you,” I observed, loving the smile that brought to his lips.
“A little.” Judah dipped his head but the grin that took over his face told me that it was a source of pride, a secret one if I had to guess, for him. His smile disappeared with his next words. “He’s got April’s dimples.”
His words brought the sadness of that tragedy into the room with us and I shifted over to lay a hand on his shoulder and Judah leaned into it for only a moment. He curled into himself with uncomfortable alarm and I broke the contact. I knew that sympathy and comfort had been in short supply before he went to prison and I guessed that it was nonexistent on the inside.