by Max Walker
“About that.” My eyes narrowed to slits. “When we came back in the apartment, you were midway between Sam’s room and yours. Is it unreasonable to think you could have planted Hazel’s underwear in Sam’s room? You had enough time to do it.”
He let out an odd laugh. He sounded like a damaged whoopie cushion sputtering out air. “That’s not what happened. Sam’s had an obsession with Hazel, it’s obvious. He’s wanted her since I met them.”
It wasn’t unusual for a criminal to project their emotions onto someone else. Jesse was doing exactly that. I could see it written across the worried look he now wore; his eyebrows were halfway up to the sky while his pupils had dilated two sizes too big. There were beads of sweat forming across his hairline even though the AC was kept at a cool seventy-one degrees.
Jesse’s chair had turned into the hot seat, and he was feeling the flames. I just had to get him to crack.
“Jesse, just be honest with me. You’ve had a secret crush on Hazel. It grew out of control, and you did some fucked-up shit because of it, but that doesn’t mean it’s not too late to fix things. To stop things before it got worse. Come on, Jesse. The truth.”
I could almost see the inner workings behind those scared brown eyes. He was calculating which option worked best for him: continue the facade and digging himself in deeper, or come clean now and try to work something out. His phone vibrated against my table, drawing both our eyes. I saw Sam’s name pop up, and I could read a brief piece of the text before the screen locked again.
SAM: Let’s meet at—
Jesse seemed to be thrown out of his thoughts with the text, making up his mind. “I shouldn’t have come here.”
He chose to keep digging his grave.
“Jesse.”
He wasn’t listening. He stood up, the chair almost tipping over with how quickly he pushed it back. I followed suit, standing, hoping I could diffuse the situation.
“Jesse, we can talk this out.”
He was already at the door. Without even so much as a glance over his shoulder, Jesse disappeared, the door shutting with a force that made me wince.
I didn’t waste a moment. I snatched my keys and phone and hurried out of my office, down the hall, and into the lobby. Holly sat behind her desk, looking spooked.
“Did that guy just walk out?” I asked her.
“Yeah, he looked pissed. Slammed the door on his way out.”
“Thanks,” I said. There was a cap hanging by the door. It was all black with a wide tongue, and it wasn’t mine. I grabbed it anyway and slipped it on. “I’ll bring this back,” I said over my shoulder to Holly, opening the door and stepping out into the Miami summer heat. The humidity bitch-slapped me across the face. I tucked the hat lower on my head and hurried down the street, looking left and not spotting any sign of Jesse.
I looked to my right and saw him just as he was turning.
Like a lion stalking its prey, I followed after him, not exactly sure of what I’d find but trusting my instinct to follow. I turned onto the busy street. It was lined with classic cars, all sporting freshly waxed paint jobs, their bold reds and bright blues glittering like gems under the sun. There must have been some kind of car show in town. A fresh ocean breeze drifted in and helped keep the heat manageable, aided further by fans on restaurant patios spraying clouds of mist onto the sidewalk.
Jesse was up ahead, walking with his head down, focused on his phone, typing furiously and almost knocking into six pedestrians and two skateboarders.
As I followed about seven feet behind him, I realized there was another instinct at play, too. One that was pulling me toward Sam, one that roared to life when that text message came through.
I wanted to follow Jesse if only to keep an eye on Sam.
Sam, Sam, Sam.
7
Sam Clark
“Thanks, Sam, have a great day!” the hairstylist cheerily said.
I walked out of the hair salon feeling like an entirely new man. It felt like the birds were all singing a little louder, and the sun was shining a little brighter, and the people I walked past all turned to look at me before bursting out into colorful and perfectly choreographed dance.
Yup. That’s how getting this haircut made me feel.
I checked myself out as I passed a heavily tinted SUV, admiring the sides of my head, which were no longer covered by a curtain of unkempt hair. I’d let myself go for way too long. Now, with the sides faded and the top cut short and styled with a matte paste, I felt like I could do a decent job at brokering world peace. Like I could tackle any kind of problem and solve it without even breaking a sweat.
At the corner, I pulled out my phone and went to Jesse’s number, deciding that maybe world peace was out of my reach right now, but I could still try to use my enhanced gay superpowers to broker another kind of peace.
My fingers dashed across the screen, the message practically writing itself.
“Jesse, I need to talk to you. I get that we haven’t been the best of friends, but this all has to end today. I want to put everything behind us, and I know Hazel wants to do the same thing. Let’s give this a shot, come and talk things out with me. Let’s meet at Cafe Cubano in thirty minutes.”
I hit Send, not wanting to overthink things. I’d been doing that lately, obsessing over things I totally shouldn’t have.
Obsessing over people.
Well, a person.
All right, fine, Rocky. I was obsessing over Rocky Hudson, the asshole detective with the pouty lips and the blizzard-blue eyes who kept popping up in my sexiest and steamiest dreams. It was almost annoying, how often I thought about him. Sometimes I’d think of how stupid he must be to suspect me of stealing my best friend’s underwear and hoarding them under my mattress. And then, other times, I’d think about how that was his job and that I was the stupid one to assume he’d see the innocence in me.
But (most of the time) I’d think of how Rocky Hudson had lit up some dormant fire inside me, a distant flame that flickered stronger and brighter the longer I thought of him, growing more and more intense by the day, surprising me with how often the inside of my core was licked by the heat.
My phone buzzed with a response from Jesse. “I’ll be there” was all it said.
The crosswalk sign blinked on, and I followed the flow of people. The road ahead, lined with tall, skinny palm trees, seemed to stretch out into the ocean, as though the concrete blended in with the sand, which then blended into the water, to then merge with the sky. The bright blue water mixing with the soft blue of the sky reminded me of Rocky’s eyes, painting them across my vision.
Yeah, Rocky has me all kinds of messed up.
I took a turn, away from the beach, toward the coffee shop I told Jesse to meet me at. It was a Cuban coffee shop, so you knew you were in for a massive shot of adrenaline with every cup. As I got closer, I could smell the sweet coffee beans being ground up, the scent alone already making me feel more awake.
Good. I’ve got to be on my toes right now.
The coffee shop was a trendy establishment, with plenty of outdoor seating underneath a large silky blue tarp, protecting the chatting coffee drinkers from the hot Miami rays. It was midafternoon and the sun beat down hard on the pavement, reflecting off the glass door as I opened it and stepped inside, instantly being hit with a blast of cool air and an even stronger scent of delicious coffee.
The line wrapped around a display, each shelf displaying a different kind of coffee, all of them from Cuba. There was the Cuban flag hanging behind the counter, and salsa played over the speakers, making me want to swing my hips as I made my way down the line. With the haircut I had just gotten, I wasn’t opposed to having everyone make a circle and watch me pretend like I knew how to dance.
I definitely have to stream when I get home. What game should I play…?
I ordered my cortadito, basically half espresso and half steamed milk, and went to grab a seat on the patio, still thinking about what game I’d stream toni
ght, completely forgetting the fact that I should have been worrying about an accounting exam I had coming up instead.
Halfway through my cortadito was when I spotted Jesse walking down the street, head bent down against the sun. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his shorts. He walked like someone who was simultaneously late and pissed off, his shoulders back and his pace quick. I glanced at my watch and saw that we were still good on time. I finished the rest of my coffee as if I were taking a shot, and I stood up as Jesse walked onto the patio. He lifted his head, his eyes meeting mine, the annoyance in his gait also reflected behind his gaze.
“Thanks for coming,” I said, offering a hand to shake. It felt weird. Like I was meeting with a stranger, not someone living under the same roof as me.
He didn’t take the hand. He just sat down, his lids narrowing as he looked up at me.
Oookay.
I sat down, taking a moment to see if Jesse was going to say anything.
He didn’t. I just jumped into it, my body buzzing with caffeine and anxiety.
“All right, Jesse, I know this is as uncomfortable for you as it is for me, but I just need you to be upfront with me. Right here, right now. Why are you stealing Hazel’s underwear?”
“For fuck’s sake.”
“I can say with a hundred, a thousand percent certainty, it wasn’t me. Yet they still found their way under my mattress, conveniently moments before we caught you in the middle of the hallway. Jesse, come on. Just come clean. We can work something out.”
We can find you a good doctor, get you therapy.
I didn’t want to say all that. Jesse sat up straight in the wicker chair, a vein rapidly pulsing at the base of his neck.
“Is this why you asked me to come here? To accuse me?”
“No.” I could tell my first plan wasn’t going to work, so I had to fall back on plan B.
Which, funny enough, there wasn’t one. I improvised my way through.
“I asked you to come because, I, uh, wanted to talk to you about, well, um.” I said the first thing to pop into my head. “Moving out.”
Jesse started shaking his head, and I could see the anger boiling up inside him as well as I could see that handsome man standing near us on the street, his back turned to us.
“I’ll pay for your moving fees. And your rent for the next month so you can find a sublet for your lease.” It was an offer I knew I’d have trouble backing up, but if it meant getting this creep out of our lives, then I’d do anything. I’d sell plasma in the morning and sperm in the evenings and then see if there were any college kids who needed clean pee to pass drug tests.
Whatever it took.
And, I mean, obviously there were better ways of making money than turning your body into a human fluid farm, but I wasn’t kidding when I said that Cuban coffee was no joke. My mind was buzzing.
“You’re ridiculous.”
Yes. Yes I was. Especially considering how I knew Jesse’s family had just recently come into quite a lot of money. I shouldn’t have to offer him anything, but still, I wanted to try my hardest to get him out of there. For Hazel’s sake.
“Just take the offer, Jesse. Get out of our hair. The detective won’t keep looking into things, we can call it off.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Why?” I crossed my arms against my chest, mainly so that he wouldn’t see the tremble in my hands. “You clearly hate living there. You never hang out with us, you never have. We would invite you all the time in the beginning, you’d just give us attitude.”
“I’m not talking about this shit with you.”
“About what? How much you’re in love with Hazel? How you’re willing to keep renting a room you hate because you want to be near her?”
That must have struck a raw nerve. Jesse’s nostrils flared, his lips raised. It was like he’d been replaced by an angry pit bull, showing his teeth and getting ready to lunge. I uncrossed my arms, placing my hands on the table, as if I were about to give some kind of TED talk.
“Jesse. You don’t have—”
“Fuck this.” A flip had switched. Jesse launched up from his seat, the table falling over onto its side with a loud clatter. A woman next to me screeched as she dropped her coffee in surprise, white porcelain shards scattering all across the stone floor.
I didn’t have much time to think. Jesse was on me, his fists flying. One fist landed hard against my cheek. I put my arms up to try and absorb some of the blows. His punches connected with my forearm, a blistering hot pain shooting through me. I stumbled back. Another fist landed in my gut, knocking all the air out of me. People were shouting for Jesse to stop, but it was useless, their cries falling on deaf, rage-filled ears.
I didn’t fall to my knees, as badly as I wanted to. I kept my feet underneath me and swung my hand upward, my knuckles digging into Jesse’s rib cage.
I barely made a dent. Jesse was bigger than me, and he had the advantage.
It was then that I realized I was a goner. Jesse wasn’t going to stop. And no one seemed to be intervening, everyone most likely too frightened by the intense anger radiating off my attacker.
My eyes shut tight as he lifted another fist into the air. I knew this would be the one. Once it connected with my head, I’d be done.
My eyes stayed shut tight. I heard a grunt and a scuffle, and I realized I still had all my consciousness, meaning Jesse never got to punch my lights out. I opened one eye, then another.
In front of me, kneeling on top of Jesse like a hunter bringing home a prized catch, was Rocky Hudson, looking as if he’d walked off a photoshoot for the cover of GQ before coming to save my life.
God, I hated this guy.
And now, I also really, really fucking loved him.
“You okay?” he asked me, not even out of breath. Meanwhile, Jesse grunted and whined underneath him like the pig he was.
“Yeah, I’m good.” My cheek and forearm felt sore from the blows, and my stomach shook in a weird way, but nothing was broken or bleeding.
You’d think that with the threat of annihilation by pummeling was over, my heart would start slowing back down to its normal pace. But, for some reason, my pulse only quickened, my heartbeat pounding hard in my chest, escalating with every glance I threw to Rocky, the pain being subdued by the dose of adrenaline.
After a few minutes, police sirens cut through the air. By the time they arrived, Jesse had calmed down. We both spoke to the police, who wrote down our statements and gave a stern talk to Jesse, warning him that another incident like this would land him behind bars. I was asked if I wanted to press charges, but I felt like being dragged into a legal fight with him would only prolong having him in my life. Jesse said he would move out by the end of the week, so I felt like severing him completely out of our lives would be the best scenario. He was also told he had to pay for the damages to the coffee shop, and he was barred from ever coming back there again.
When it was all over, I was left standing on the sidewalk, emptying now as the sun was beginning to set. Detective Rocky Hudson stood there with me, both of us looking almost comically awkward. The pain from the punches felt a little louder now, the places that were hit still pulsing.
My instincts kicked in, and I filled the awkward silence with the only thing I could think of.
A terrible joke.
“So…” I said. “You, uh, were following him or me? Cuz you could have just asked me out on a date if that were the case, Detective.”
Dumb joke, dumb joke.
And then Rocky did something that surprised me.
The asshole laughed. He laughed at my dumb joke, and something shifted inside me, a key clicking into place. I wasn’t exactly sure what it opened yet, but holy hell did I feel something happen. Maybe that feeling was my entire life falling into place, or maybe it was my entire life falling apart?
Little did I know, the night ahead was about to answer that very question for me.
8
Rocky Hud
son
The only thing in my vision was Sam, and he was in trouble. I didn’t give a fuck about blowing my cover or any other “on-duty” worries I might have had. I just knew I needed to get to his side and stop Jesse before he killed him. Those fists were flying and they were landing hard, but the patio was crowded and everyone was clustered around the fight, creating an almost impenetrable wall of heads and shoulders. And no one was doing anything to stop them except shouting a few harmless words. I pushed through them, almost knocking someone over, but I didn’t give a fuck.
I could hear Sam’s stifled cries. It tore at my gut like a cat clawing at a scratching post. I grabbed Jesse’s fist as he raised it in the air, ready to land what would most likely have been a finishing blow. Instead, I twisted his arm with as much force as I had, sending him spinning down onto the ground with a surprised shout. He hit the hard stone floor with his chest. I could hear the air sucked out of him, replaced by wheezes.
That was when I pushed a knee down onto his back, and the rest was, well, relatively short history. With him subdued, we waited for the police to show up. They didn’t arrest him, but he was cited, and if it happened again, he would for sure end up behind bars. I wanted him locked up for life, but Sam seemed to be ready to wash his hands of it all.
I stood with Sam on the street, looking down into a pair of dusty gray eyes that had some kind of unexplainable power over me.
“So…” Sam said, his smile wide even after the shit he’d just been through. “You, uh, were following him or me? Cuz you could have just asked me out on a date if that were the case, Detective.”
Those gray eyes had so much power over me that I found myself laughing at his joke. Actually laughing.
I never laughed. Not the loud, boisterous laugh that had come out of me just then, surprising me and Sam both, judging by his expression.
“I was tailing Jesse,” I said when the laughter trailed off, as if I really needed to explain. Besides, I didn’t want to ask Sam out on a date. I wanted to ask him to come straight home to my bedroom. Images flashed across my mind. Images of Sam, his lithe body twitching and flushed and laid out on the bed, his wrists bound behind him, his eyes covered by a velvet red blindfold.