Busted (15 page)

The club hit him with a wave of sound, as it always did. It was Friday night, and even as early as it was there were people inside, fifteen or so on the dance floor and a dozen more scattered at booths around the edges. Joe scanned the people, looking for Alex, but he wasn't anywhere to be seen. For a second he almost felt relieved – he was tired, and wasn't sure he was up to clubbing tonight.

Joe walked over to the bar. Tony was leaning against it, idly spinning an empty shot glass.

"Hey, Tony," Joe said. "Seen Alex around?"

"Nah, haven't seen him yet," Tony said. "You want your regular, lightweight?"

Joe shook his head. "Not tonight. Gimme a Coke, heavy on the syrup."

"Oooh, the good stuff. Moving up, Joe!"

Joe smiled a little. "Not tonight, Tony. Feeling kinda wiped."

Tony nodded and set a glass in front of Joe. No ice, and only a few bubbles.

"Meeting your boy here tonight?"

"Yeah," Joe said, taking a swig of the drink. It was so sweet that his throat nearly clamped shut.

"That should pick you back up," Tony said with a smirk.

"I don't think I've ever gotten a buzz from Coke before," Joe said. There was wonder in his voice.

"You're going to need it if you want to keep up," Tony said, nodding towards the door.

Joe turned and watched Alex walk towards him. He smiled despite himself. Alex was moving in time to the music. He had a thin white silk shirt on, and it caught the lights, giving him an almost ethereal look.

"Hi," Alex said as he got close. He slid in, his arm going around Joe.

Joe turned and pulled Alex in for a kiss, one that went on longer than he'd planned. Feeling Alex's firm body against his own brought him awake and roused his libido. He pulled Alex tighter and started grinding his hips.

Alex pulled away with a laugh. "Whoa, babe," he said. "You're all fired up."

"The bar's clear," Joe growled. "I could show you how much."

Alex ducked in and licked Joe's lips. "Sweet," he said. "But I want to dance, first. You can have your wicked way with me after!"

Alex grabbed Joe's hand and pulled him to the dance floor. Joe'd only planned on staying for an hour, but the sugar and caffeine had given him a boost, enough to keep up with Alex. He was swept into the music, riding in Alex's wake, and they danced until midnight.

"Ah, it's twelve," Joe said, pulling Alex aside.

"Gonna turn into a pumpkin?" Alex asked with a smile.

"No, but I've got some stuff I'm supposed to do tomorrow," Joe said.

Alex frowned his puppy-dog frown. "Does that mean you've got to go?"

Joe leaned in and kissed him. "It means
we
have to go, love," he said. "I think you promised to take me home. There were wicked things involved, as I remember."

"Mmmm," Alex said kissing back. "I like wicked."

"Come on, then," Joe said. This time it was his turn to pull Alex, and they dashed for the door, dodging the other dancers and laughing as they went.

A chill hit them as they stepped out into the night air. It wasn't cold, not really. Midnight or not, it was the middle of June. Still, moving from the hot, humid club to the outside was a shock. Joe felt Alex shiver a little. He turned and pulled Alex into a hug.

"Ready to go?" Joe asked.

"Yes," Alex said. "My car's around the corner. Meet me at my place?"

Joe smiled. "Fifteen minutes. I'll be there."

They separated, Alex heading around the back of the club where he'd apparently parked. Joe walked to his car. The chill hadn't left him. If anything, he felt even colder, and a little uncomfortable, like someone was watching.

It was a silly thought. He was in the middle of a parking lot at a gay club. Of course there were people watching.

Still, it was strangely quiet. There wasn't any street noise he could hear, and the cicadas had all gone to bed. He saw something, off at the edge of the lot. A brief flash of light. But… it was a firefly. He was sure of that. He hoped.

Joe always had the hardest time finding a parking spot at Alex's complex. He didn't go there all that often – Alex had a studio apartment, and it was kind of cramped. It suited him fine, or so he always said, since he was never home.

Tonight Joe wasn't nearly so happy to have to walk. Even with the drive and the street lights he was a little spooked. It was nothing, he was sure of that. Just nerves and leftover creeps from Stephanie's story making some harmless things seem sinister.

He hurried to Alex's building anyway.

Alex had a fourth floor apartment in a small complex. It was 4F, something they'd both joked about occasionally. It was late, and normally Joe would've taken the elevator, but he was still a little shaky and didn't feel like waiting. Three flights of stairs were better than three minutes of looking over his shoulder.

The door to Alex's apartment was open, and Joe walked right in. Definitely small, there was just a living room that doubled as a bedroom, small kitchen, and a bathroom. The bed was big enough for two, placed so you couldn't see it if you looked in from the hall.

Alex had used it to good effect.

The bed was made, with light grey satin sheets and a few pillows with matching cases. There was a nightstand next to it with a small lamp, a few condoms, and a bottle of lube.

On the bed itself was… Alex. He was laying across the bed, arms spread, and gloriously naked. The only thing covering him was a teddy bear that had seen better days.

Joe smiled, and took in the sight. His boyfriend wasn't a gym bunny, not by any means. Alex had a lean and rangy look to him, but padded enough to be comfortable. In the dim light of the nightstand lamp his bronze skin gleamed. The pale triangle his bathing suit left only accented his coloring. His nipples were large and relaxed, a sign he was comfortably aroused. The slight bobbing of Snuffles the teddy bear was another sign.

"It sounded like you had a hard day at work," he said. "I thought maybe you'd like a… hard night."

"God, I love you, Alex," Joe said.

Alex beamed when he heard that, which made him even more inviting.

Joe was shedding his clothes as fast as he could. He swept aside the teddy bear as Alex rolled a condom onto his cock. Joe dove on to him, pulling Alex into a crushing embrace and covering his face with kisses.

"I love you too," Alex whispered. "Now just relax and let me drive, okay?"

"Please," breathed Joe as they rolled over. Joe lifted his knees and Alex slipped in. Joe reached up, running his hands through Alex's hair, so very much like silk. He brought Alex's head down, letting it nestle in the crook of his neck

Joe felt the world slip away as Alex started to slowly move, each thrust bringing its own wave of pleasure. Alex sucked on his throat, the unexpected sting pushing Joe over the edge to his first orgasm.

As the world faded to a hazy, timeless white, Joe's last thought was 'I wonder what Chris would look like with long hair.'

Saturday
morning Chris woke up to the sounds of his third alarm. He'd had to dig his spare alarm clock out of the closet the past week. Chris had been having a hell of a time waking up ever since the divorce was final. Two or three days a week for the past four months, he'd wake up feeling like he hadn't slept.

When his dreams had
just
been dreams it was bad enough, but now they were full-blown hallucinations. Or fantasies. He wasn't sure which. Either way he was changing his sheets nearly daily. He'd even tried beating off before bed Friday, but it hadn't helped. Neither had the images of Joe doing things to him that'd sprung to mind unbidden. Well, they'd helped him get off. Twice.

Last night was the worst of the lot. He could almost taste Joe, almost smell him. He could definitely remember the feeling of slipping inside and…

Chris cut that thought off savagely.

He rolled out of bed and fell to the ground as the world went a little sideways. Gritting his teeth, Chris grabbed his nightstand and hauled himself up on wobbling legs.

Stripping off the boxers that were still sticky from the dreams he had, Chris staggered into the bathroom. A hot shower would help, at least some. Hot and pounding, it'd steam the fatigue out of him.

Chris stepped into the streaming water. It made him feel better, at least a little. It washed away the dried sweat and a little soap helped wash away the cum that had dried in his pubes. There wasn't much, but it would've been the third time last night. That reminded him his dick ached.

"And I'm not even the one getting any," he muttered. It wasn't fair, but life rarely was. That was something he'd learned a long time ago. His time as a cop hadn't done anything to change his mind.

He stepped out of the shower and toweled off, feeling at least a little better. The face peering back from the mirror still had bags under its eyes, but those would fade soon enough. He ran his fingers through his hair. Bits stuck out between them. A sign it was time for another haircut.

Chris sighed and walked back into his bedroom to get changed for the day. He was a little surprised that Toby hadn't wandered in yet. He was usually up by now.

Toby was still asleep when Chris peeked in at him. "Hey, sport," he said softly. "You ready to get up?"

Toby didn't stir. That was unusual. Chris was worried. He hadn't been much older than Toby when the spells had started for him, and he'd spent six long weak years until they'd finally passed. After the fire. He was terrified that what had killed his childhood was going to kill Toby's.

"Toby?" He shook Toby's shoulder. The boy rolled over a little. He was pale, his breathing shallow. There was a small wet spot on the sheet where he'd drooled a little in his sleep.

"Papa?" Toby's voice was weak. "I don't feel so good."

"C'mon, sport," Chris said, lifting the boy out of bed. "Let's get you some OJ and some breakfast."

"'k, Papa." Toby mumbled into Chris' shoulder.

Chris carried Toby downstairs and into the kitchen. Their kitchen set was older than Chris, a relic of chrome, formica, and brittle plastic. His Nana had bought it when she and his grandfather had moved into the house in 1953. He hadn't the heart to get rid of it, though more than once he'd had to scour flea markets as far away as Maine to find replacement parts when the duct tape wouldn't hold.

He set Toby down and went to the refrigerator. Orange juice was always a good thing after a bout like this, at least for him. The sugar and vitamins helped. He turned and saw Toby had laid his head on the table. Chris got a warm feeling for a moment, just looking at him, bed hair, Scooby Doo PJs, and all.

Except he was sick with something, like Chris had been so often when he was young.

"Here you go, Toby," he said softly. He knelt down next to Toby. "Orange juice. It'll make you feel better."

"Thanks, Papa," Toby said. He drank, and Chris watched as he seemed to inflate with the juice.

"You think you can get dressed? Uncle Steve's having a cookout later," Chris said, as he stroked the back of Toby's head.

"Yeah, Papa," Toby said. He was feeling better, and starting to bounce.

"Why don't you go up and get dressed. I'll start breakfast. Eggs and bacon sound good?"

"Pop tarts?" Toby asked.

"Maybe later," Chris said. He smiled as Toby scampered back upstairs.

Chris whistled an aimless little tune as he got ready. He scrambled up half dozen eggs as a pan warmed up on the old gas stove. A half-empty package of bacon completed the mix, and soon the kitchen was filled with the smell of breakfast.

He heard a thud from around the corner as Toby jumped the last three steps and came dashing to the table.

"Just in time," Chris said. He set two plates on the table. Toby dove right in, but Chris held back. He was just watching his son.

"Papa?" Toby's question startled Chris back to reality.

"Yeah, sport? What's up?"

"Do I have an Uncle Alex?"

Chris froze. He was sure the look on his face was pure shock. Any appetite he may have had was gone.

"Why do you ask?"

"'Cause I had a dream last night. Mister Joe and Uncle Alex, an' they were dancing and kissing and stuff." Toby cocked his head and looked at his father. "I think maybe they're married like Uncle Steve and Aunt Mary." He frowned. "I dunno."

"It was just a dream," Chris said. His voice was shaky.

"Oh," Toby said. He cocked his head and looked at Chris. "Uncle Alex looks like you, Papa. Mister Joe kissed him too, just like he kissed you."

"Why don't you head next door, Toby. You can play with Bob while I clean up after breakfast, okay?"

"'Kay, Papa," Toby said. He raced out the door. Chris could hear him yelling for Bob as he went.

The house was suddenly quiet, and very oppressive.

Chris slumped in his chair, his head pounding and his hands trembling. Alex was a hallucination — someone that came out when he was sick. Chris had been sick a lot as a kid. It had started when he had been only a little older than Toby, and gotten worse as the years passed. He’d missed most of fifth grade, laid up in bed too weak to get up. Alex had kept him company, told him stories about the world he was missing. Still, Alex wasn’t
real
. He was only there when Chris was sick, when his grip on the world was so weak the walls of the tiny bedroom in his parents battered trailer seemed to melt away.

Nobody ever saw him, and there was no way Toby could know anything about him. Still, he did. Toby knew, and the thought terrified Chris. Silently, almost mechanically, Chris cleaned up. He hoped, for a moment, that it might've been just Toby's imagination, combined with what he'd heard last weekend. Chris knew that wasn't really true, though.

He thought he’d outgrown Alex and escaped the madness that had claimed both his parents, but he was wrong, and now Alex was going to get Toby too. Still, there was one way he knew of to keep Alex away. It had worked in high school whenever Alex had threatened to come out, and into college.

Dishes cleaned up, Chris opened up the cabinet over the fridge and took out a bottle of brandy he'd had left over from Christmas. He went to the living room, sat down, and proceeded to get quietly drunk.

* * *

Joe had a feeling of déjà vu when he pulled into the Russell's driveway Saturday afternoon. The weather was about the same, the people on the street were about the same, and there was the same beat up, bumper stickered car already in the driveway. The only thing different was that this time he had potato salad as well as beer. He wasn't sure that was enough to count.

He knocked. A few seconds later there was the sound of an elephant charging the door. Bob opened it, and Joe wondered how such a small child could make so much noise.

"Hi Bob," he said. "Your dad's expecting me."

Bob turned. "Dad!" he yelled. Joe swore he could hear the glass in the door rattle. "That guy's here again!"

Bob gave Joe a disapproving scowl. "Dad's in back," he said. He turned and walked away.

It wasn't the warmest welcome Joe had ever gotten, but it wasn't the worst either. Even still, he felt a little uncomfortable just walking through Steve's house. 'Next time I go around back,' he thought.

That caught him by surprise. He was assuming he'd be back. Joe wasn't sure how he felt about that. He liked Steve and Mike, and watching the two bicker was fun. On the other hand, it meant he'd be more likely to run into Chris. Joe couldn't decide whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. The indecision made him nervous.

Steve was on the back deck, grilling. Mike was relaxing on one of the deck chairs. The three kids, Steve's two and Toby, were splashing in the pool. Linda and Mary were in deep conversation and watching the kids. Joe looked around warily, half-expecting Chris to step out from behind him and say something snarky.

"He's not around," Mike said cheerfully. "Oh, good, you brought drinkable beer!"