Crazy From the Heat (19 page)

“I’m
gay,” he said, hoping to put her at ease, even though she put herself in this
position, alone with a kid the whole school thought was a drugged out punk.

“I
wasn’t going to say anything.” She blinked looking surprised. “I mean, I was
going to say that you should try out for the soccer team. You’re very good.
Probably better than anyone we’ve got.”

“I
can’t. I won’t be here when the season starts.” He wasn’t going to try to make
up some lie to cover the why of that. He just shrugged and took a long swallow
of the water she’d given him. “And, maybe. He’s a good man. Better than any
I’ve ever met before.”

“What?”
Sarah blinked again trying to follow the jump in topic.

“Grey.
I mean, Dr. Talbot. He’s a good man. I fucked up. He doesn’t deserve this shit because
of me.” He wanted to test the story out. See what stuck. And she was glued to
his every word now, as if she’d been waiting for this very moment.

“You’re
seventeen, and his student. He should never have encouraged anything. He should
have—"

Paul
slapped the table cutting her off before she could get on her high horse about
Grey.

“He
didn’t do anything wrong. I kissed him. And that’s it. That’s as far as it
went. He let me crash there after a fight with my guardian Friday night.
Because
Vinnie
got into trouble. It’s always my fault. So I left. And
Grey…I slept on his sofa. I took a chance and kissed him.”

God,
he was such an asshole. Lying. Always lying. Yes, fucking, yes, he was in love.
He knew that now. Grey Talbot had crawled under his skin and nothing short of
being flayed with barbed wire was going to get the man out.

“That’s
not what it looks like in the pictures.” The teacher took his water bottle and
drank from it. Paul wondered what part of gay she hadn’t understood, or was
that why she was coming off as a modern day Mrs. Robinson?

“Pictures
lie. They can be manipulated. People lie.” He refused the return of the bottle.
She smiled but averted her eyes so that he couldn’t see what she was thinking.
So far, he got the sense that she was fishing for more than just the sordid
details of his and Grey’s weekend. Or maybe for something else entirely. Sarah
wasn’t easy to read. She came off as friendly, but after weeks of watching her
and Grey at lunch, Paul didn’t trust her.

“And,
I’m eighteen. So even if it wasn’t a lie, I’m still an adult.” He was tired of
playing the kid. He was tired of that script. More lies. What did another lie
in a lifetime of lies matter?

“Ah,
there’s no birthdate listed on your records. I was wondering…Anyway, Paul, I
was trying to let you know that I actually understand…I can see it, you’ve
fallen in love with Dr. Talbot. He is an incredibly handsome man.” She crossed
her legs, leaning back in the chair as she toyed with the rim of the water
bottle. She met and held his gaze now, her lipstick coated lips spread wide in
a smile that sent a chill through Paul’s body.

“He’s
gorgeous, and smart. I love history, if I ever decide to go to college I think
I’d study history, but all the rest of this is just shit.” Paul leaned back in
his own chair and draped an arm over the back. She watched every move he made.
This was a game, but Paul couldn’t figure out what the objective was. To find
dirt on her rival, or…Or what? What was she fishing for?

“I
agree. He is gorgeous. But he’s my colleague. I’m not really in the habit of
commenting on my fellow teacher’s physical appearances.” She bounced her foot
letting her shoe slip off her heel to dangle on her toes. “Grey is probably one
of the smartest men I’ve ever met. He’s earned a PhD at such a young age. Last
year, when he was new here and still going to school… Well, I, for one,
couldn’t have managed that kind of stress. I’m happy with my bachelors.”

“He
is very smart…So him being a doctor is new, then. He never told me that. We talked
a lot but he never mentioned that.” Which was the truth. But then Paul wouldn’t
exactly say he and Grey ever really spent a lot of time talking.

“So,
when you say you talked?” She propped an elbow on the table and leaned her chin
into her hand, her gaze riveted to Paul as if he were the most interesting
person on the planet. And Paul played along. They had a story. Grey knew, and
would stick to it when the time came. Paul felt no real betrayal because again,
all lies.

“Yeah
there’s a coffee shop not far from my place. I go there sometimes to get away
from my foster…Anyway, Grey would be there sometimes, and we’d sit and talk
over coffee and maybe a sandwich. About stuff from his class. About soccer.
About Chicago, and how much I miss home. I hate this heat. It’s making me
crazy. I just really want to go home. I started looking for him there. It was
nice. Like—"

“A
date?” she suggested when he paused too long.

“Well,
no. I was going to say, like I had a friend. Most of the kids here steer clear
of me. Vinnie they like, he puts on that fake accent and has the girls eating
out of his hands…But okay, maybe I…Maybe it was like a date. I don’t know, we
just showed up a few times a week. He bought me a sandwich when I didn’t have
any cash. We never did anything wrong.”

God,
he wished all of this was true. He wished he’d met Grey in a coffee shop. He
longed for the dating and getting to know him, without any of this sordid shit
being part of it. He wanted to date the man. Maybe more than date him. He
wanted to learn about Grey’s life in Baltimore before he hit the streets. He
wanted to know about his school and his future plans.

“Why
would a dude with a PhD teach high school history? I mean, wouldn’t he be more
qualified to teach, you know, on a college level or something?” He hadn’t meant
to actually say that out loud.

“I
asked him that. He said he liked it here.” The look on her face said she’d
finished that sentence in her head and not in a way that would flatter the good
Doctor Talbot.

“Why
would anyone like it here? A crappy ass school in fucking Alabama? It’s hot,
the curriculum sucks…If it wasn’t for football none of you people would—"
He shut up before his own personal prejudices came out. “It’s not that bad. I
guess. It could be worse. There could be lake effect snow and ice in September.
I’ll live.”

“So,
you can’t see Grey until the investigation is over?” And now she got down to
the nitty gritty of what she was really after.

Paul
shrugged. “Something like that. Not that he’ll answer when I call him. And my
texts go unanswered.”

He
was pathetic, he could hear the hurt and anger in his own voice, and none of it
was part of the act. He bent over his knees and hid his face in his hands. A
sharp pain lashed through his chest making him gasp for breath, and for one
brief moment Paul wondered if he were too young to die of a sudden massive
heart attack.

She
laid her hand on Paul’s knee and squeezed. The touch should have sent him
bolting across the room, but for some reason he felt comfort.

“It’s
all my fault,” he cried, trying not to actually break down…But, damn. He felt
the sting of tears behind his eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d
actually cried. Before Jack lay dying, his blood mingling with Paul’s on the
concrete floor in the warehouse where he’d nearly lost his own life. Before his
father had kicked his ass while kicking him out of the house. Before all
that…But now, now he wanted to curl up and wail at the heavens for sending him
the right man at the wrong fucking time.

Sarah
didn’t say anything while he fought to control his emotions. She just let him
be quiet for a moment.

“I’m
sorry,” he said finally, when he had the tears under control. “I don’t know
what’s wrong with me. I don’t ever…” He shrugged, unable to think of a lie to
finish that statement off with. Instead he looked at the floor and waited for
her to say or do something.

“It’s
okay, Paul,” she said finally, with one last pat to his knee. “I bet your
brother is getting worried. Why don’t you head home? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Paul
watched her leave the library before he ventured out. Shoulders slumped as if
he were fighting his way through a Chicago winter, he made his way out to the
parking lot where Vinnie sat on the hood of their junker watching the girls soccer
team tryouts. He squashed the cigarette he smoked despite being a smoke free
campus and calmly climbed into the driver seat before Paul made it all the way
across the lot.

They
were silent as they drove to the shop. They’d been silent since yesterday
afternoon. Paul leaned back against the head rest and let the passing traffic
lull him into a trance.

* * * * *

Paul
stood in front of his locker, towel around his waist. More sleep would be great
but they only had a couple hours left before they had to hit the streets.
Vinnie was the only other person in the locker room. They still hadn’t spoken,
not even over dinner. Nothing like getting the silent treatment. He decided it
was an improvement over the gay jokes he’d heard the past couple of weeks. He slicked
antiperspirant under his arms and started to pull out a worn pair of jeans when
Russell stepped around the corner.

“You
two need to get down to the docks. They just pulled a floater out of the
river,” he said in that take no shit from anyone way he had.

“We’re
not due on duty for another—" Vinnie started to complain but the captain
pointed at him and shook his head.

“Don’t
give me shit, Gautreau. Just get down there. And look like you belong.” The
captain eyed Vinnie’s low hanging jeans with disdain before leaving them to
follow orders.

“Since
when do we jump for a DB?” Vinnie hauled his tight t-shirt over his head as
Paul reached for the Mobile City detective uniform he’d been issued last month
but had never worn, a white polo shirt with the city shield on the left breast
and a pair of crisp khaki pants that still smelled of the department store. He
grabbed his boots and laced up, then put on his belt holster. He pulled his
hair back in a queue, and was ready to go before Vinnie finished bitching about
this not being their fucking job, before bursting into French Cajun to finish
up whatever cursing he was doing.

“Since
today, apparently, Gato. Let’s go.” Paul didn’t wait for him, he was out in the
bull pen and heading for the door when the first wolf whistle sailed past him.

“Ignore
it, Boudreaux,” Vinnie said, coming up beside him, keys in his hand.

“I’ve
been ignoring it. For three damned days. I’m tired. I haven’t slept since
Sunday night. I’m about ready to go Chicago on someone,” he said, knowing
Vinnie would know exactly what he meant.

“Come
on, it’s not that bad. Just some harmless joking around.” Vinnie angled him out
to one of the unmarked Crown Vic's the detectives still drove, while the
uniforms got the hot as fuck new Chargers.

“Yeah,
when someone puts a chocolate coated dildo in your desk drawer, be sure to let
me know how harmless it is.” Paul let Vinnie drive. He didn’t care. Vinnie knew
the city better than Paul did anyway. He settled into the shot-gun position and
waited for Vinnie.

“Are
you sure it was chocolate?” Vinnie wasn’t laughing when he climbed in the other
side.

“I
didn’t ask. I just closed the drawer and left it there. Don’t know if it’s
still there. Maybe the janitors had some fun with it….Can’t fucking wait to get
out of this city.”

He
resisted the urge to check his phone for a missed text. There would be none. He
refused to think about Grey and what he might be doing right now. Maybe he’d
gotten back with that purple eyed musician.

Who
cared?

“Do
you know where we’re going?”

“Not
one damned clue.” Vinnie picked up the radio and put in a call to dispatch for
directions to the correct dock.

Alabama
Docks was a huge maze of loading machinery and cargo containers that ran the
entire length of the Mobile River. The specific location they wanted was on the
northern side of the sprawling convention center that broke up the industrial
area. Vinnie parked not far from the big gray loading crane. The Alabama Port
Authority security guard waved them on at the flash of their shields.

The
Coast Guard vessel and a fleet of rescue divers and paramedic vehicles were
still on the scene, but the body was long past saving. Vinnie moved in close
and lifted the slime laced fringe of hair off the bloated face.

“Aww,
man, Rawlings. Why you done got yourself dead?”

Chapter
Seventeen

Friday
came faster than Paul cared to think about. Since their informant, Anthony
Rawlings, had turned up with a gunshot wound to the back of his head, Paul had
given up on sleep.

“You
look like shit, Boudreaux,” Vinnie said after classes were done for the day.

“I
passed shit days ago, Gato.” He had no witty comeback. He had nothing. Get up
in the morning after a couple hours of trying to stop thinking about every Goddamned
thing that had happened since he was sent to this God forsaken city. Wash the
sweat off his body, and drag in to school. Rinse, repeat.