Crazy From the Heat (20 page)

“When
this task force shit is over, I’m going home for some red beans and rice.
That’s all that’s getting me through this shit. Just waiting to go home.”
Vinnie babbled all the way to the library where he left Paul to deal with
Sister Sarah, as he’d started calling her, for her heart of gold in trying to
help Paul through this trying time. “Let me know what color her bra is today,
would you, Boudreaux? Because I am living vicariously through you.”

Sarah
Hasting’s reputation as a flirt was very well known to everyone but Paul it
seemed, before Wednesday, that is. He winced just thinking about the number of
times she’d flashed him her lace undergarments the afternoon before. And
cringed when he remembered he had two more days of detention to deal with.

“If
the drug dealers don’t kill me, I’m thinking the good sister’s attempts to
convert me just might.”

Vinnie
laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.

“God
go with you, my child.” He left Paul standing with his hand on the door, his
laughter ringing down the nearly deserted hallway.

The
ubiquitous essay was on the day’s schedule to kill the hour of monotony known
as detention. Paul would rather stand at a chalk board and write lines Bart
Simpson style. And again, he ignored the assignment to catch a nap. Sister
Sarah didn’t say a thing to him. The other kid’s complained—loudly—but still,
she didn’t bother him. And just like the last couple of days she woke him up
after she’d released the other kids. Today she handed him a small business card
with an address on it, and the words
Tonight. 8:00
written in red ink.
Paul flipped the card over hoping to find something more than just a cryptic address
and time, and he did.
Someone wants to meet you.

Paul
looked up to ask Sarah a question, but found himself alone in the library. The
clock over the checkout desk clicked 3:30, and Paul hauled ass out to the
parking lot.

Vinnie
sat on the hood of the car, cigarette glowing orange as he watched Paul walk
across the lot. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry today, despite being the only
person sitting in the lot that afternoon.

“How’d
detention go? Miss Hastings give you any…problems?”

Paul
cocked his head to the side watching as his partner pulled another drag.

“No,
man. She didn’t give me shit.”

“So
you had a nice nap?” He ground the butt out on the ground and tossed Paul the
keys. “Then you get to drive.”

Paul
caught the keys and waited as Vinnie stretched his arms above his head and bent
over to touch his toes, his shirt riding up as he leaned, revealing a new tat
on his back. One that Paul couldn’t quite make out.

“Nice
ink,” he said and climbed into the car.

The
ride to the station was as quiet as it had been the last few days. A month ago
he and Vinnie were tight. After a couple of years running together on duty and
off, they’d become friends. Maybe not great friends, but still friends. Vinnie
was the only detective in New Orleans willing to work with him, possibly
because of his brother’s reputation. Possibly because he made detective at the
ripe old age of twenty and that pissed a lot of cops off. He was still a kid.
One who'd played the system and won. But now their relationship was strained.

“I’m
just tired, Chicago. Stop over thinking shit, man. You’re tired. I’m tired.
We’re working a shit detail because we fucked up at home. We both know this
task force,” he paused to do air quotes. “Is just to get us out of the way.
There’s no fucking drugs here. At least nothing that hasn’t been here since the
dawn of teenage wasteland time. Some pot. Coke for the rich kids. Whatever
surfaces from mommy’s medicine cabinet. Hell, there isn’t even much meth—the
regular old meth, not this zombie making shit. I’m just tired. I want to go
home. And I want to sleep for a week. At home, in my own bed. Not some cheap
ass motel by the interstate. I just want to go home.”

“I
hear ya, man. I hear ya,” Paul agreed. He wanted nothing more than to do just
that. Go home. Except he’d never had a home. He’d moved around all his life.
For a moment he thought of the weekend spent lying in bed with warm sunlight
streaming in through painted windows. He’d been content then. Probably more
content than he’d ever been anywhere.

“When
this is over.”

“When
this is over, there will be another shit job to pull first,” Vinnie said
turning to look out the window at the traffic slowly passing them by. He was
right. For someone so young Vinnie was usually always right. He saw through the
bullshit better than anyone Paul had ever known. “Whatever, man. Wake me up
when we get to the shop.”

Paul
poked his partner in the ribs five minutes later. Traffic had parted like the
Red Sea after they got out of the school zones and the ride took little time
for a Friday.

“Get
some rack time. We have a few hours.”

“Sleep…I
don’t even know what that means anymore,” Vinnie replied as they stepped into
the bull pen.

Captain
Russell turned just as they parted and pointed two fingers at Paul.

“Gaines.
My office.”

“Fuck,”
Vinnie muttered under his breath. “That doesn’t look good, Boudreaux.”

“Not
good at all,” Paul agreed, and without a look back to his partner, he followed
the Captain into his office.

A
couple hours later he woke Vinnie up. Dark was beginning to close in.

“Hey
man, what…?” Vinnie sat up on the low rack, leaning forward so he didn’t bump
his head on the top bunk. “What…Where you going?” he asked, seeing Paul with
his back pack.

“Home,
man. I’m going home,” Paul sighed. He couldn’t tell Vinnie much of anything
now.

“We’re
being reassigned?” Vinnie was up, moving toward the locker room.

“No,”
Paul said softly. There were two uniformed officers standing not far away,
listening to everything he said. “Gato. This is good-bye, man.” Paul held out
his hand but Vinnie didn’t take it. Instead he looked him up and down as if the
answer lay somewhere in Paul’s clothes. “They took my shield, Vinnie. I have to
go.”

“Oh,
Paul, man…No, Boudreaux. No.” Vinnie reached out and snagged him around the
neck, pulling him in for a hug. “Where are you going?”

“I
don’t know. I’ll figure it out. I have money. I’ll be fine for a while.” He
watched the uniforms out of the corner of his eye. His time here was up.

“Let
me know where you land, Chicago.” Vinnie slapped him on the back and let him
go.  He looked at the floor, his hands in his pockets. “I mean it, man. We
family now, me and you.”

“I
know. I’ll see you back in the Quarter man. Take it easy.”

“Only
way to take it, Paul.”

And
he was gone. Escorted out into the hot humid twilight as if he were so much
trash that needed to be disposed of, with not even so much as a ride to the bus
station.

Chapter Eighteen

What
the hell was he doing? Grey stepped onto the sprawling front porch of a huge
Victorian mansion and rang the front bell. He didn’t know anyone here, but Sarah
had insisted he come. And since when did he trust Sarah?

Dark
had fallen a while ago. The heat and humidity settled around him like a heavy
cloak. He was alone, in a section of town he didn’t know well, and no one
seemed to be home. Had Sarah sent him to the wrong address?

He
reached to press the bell again but stopped when he saw a figure through the
stained glass. Footsteps stopped on the other side of the door, and then he was
staring at his co-worker’s smiling face.

“Hey,
Grey. You came! I’m so happy you came. How are you?” She held a glass of white
wine in one hand and reached out to drag him inside with the other. “Come on
in, let’s get you a drink. I am so happy to see you.” She chattered as she
locked the front door. “You’re the last,” she said when he raised an eyebrow.
“But anyway, Grey…I am so happy to see you.”

“You
said that already, Sarah,” he handed off the wine bottle he’d brought, hoping
he sounded at least a little bit happy to see her. “I’m well. As well as can be
expected I guess.” Grey rubbed his arms to chase the chill away. “Nice house.”

“Don’t
you just love it?” She hooked her arm through his, the wine bottle bumping
against his side. “Come on let me show you around. And introduce you to my
friend.” She giggled. The Sarah he knew from school never giggled. But this one
did. “But first let’s get you fixed up with something from the bar.”

She
pulled him through the narrow hallway stuffed full of antiques too fast for him
to really get a look around. The tour consisted primarily of Sarah walking past
rooms and saying what they were and him trying to see inside as they almost ran
past. Eventually they came to a large room that connected to the kitchen and
opened up to a back porch even larger than the front. Soft music played. People
talked. They moved aside as Sarah dragged him through to the bar.

A
ripple of conversation caught his attention. His name floated on the air. Kids.
These were kids from school, and not adults. Oh, fuck.

“Sarah,
wait. Stop.” She didn’t listen. A man he didn’t know walked past with one of
his students, one of the boys. “What is going on here?”

“It’s
a party, Grey.” Sarah placed a drink in his hand. “Come on, don’t look like
that.”

“There
are students here.” He took a drink and winced at the burn. Not wine. Bourbon.
Good Bourbon. “What the hell is—” And that’s when he saw him. The flash of hair
so blond it could only be one person. “—Going on?”

“I
told you someone wanted to meet you.” She smiled and walked away without ever
answering his question.

He
couldn’t help himself. The last three days had nearly killed him. Every time
Paul had texted and he’d deleted the message without reading it. Every time he
picked up his phone to call but put it down. The moment he thought about
flinging it after the pigeon, when he found himself talking to the feathered
squatter as if the bird was his only friend in the world. Every single minute
of the last three days of not seeing him, or touching him, or hearing him laugh
collided, and his feet moved before his brain had a chance to catch up.

“Why
are you here? You shouldn’t be here,” Paul met him in the middle of the room.
They stood toe to toe. He wanted to shake him, or kiss him…Or grab him and run
because neither one of them should be here. He did nothing. Paul grabbed him
and dragged him roughly from the room, through a maze of other rooms until they
were in a formal dining room, the sound of catcalls and laughter fading away
the farther away they went.

“Why
are you here?” Paul asked again, as he slammed Grey into the nearest wall. He
looked around and, with a groan that he quickly stifled, Paul kissed him and
then stepped back putting distance between them.

“Sarah
invited me. She said there was someone wanting to meet me. I have no idea
what’s going on here.” Another kid from school darted in through the door on
the other side of the dining room, an older man trailing behind her. She
giggled and they both disappeared.

“Is
this…”

“Looks
like it’s a party for a bunch of rich people to hook up with sweet young
things. Guess those pictures of us earned us entre into…” Paul paced away
angrily, he touched his ear and shook his head rapidly as if shooing away a
gnat. “I don’t care,” he said after a moment and came back.

“Don’t
care about what?” Grey studied him, the dark circles under Paul’s eyes nearly
breaking his heart. He swiped his thumb over Paul’s bottom lip. God he wanted
to do more than just… “I missed you.” He shivered again, though the house was
warm. “You look tired.”

“I’m
exhausted.” Paul leaned into his touch and closed his eyes. He reached up to
cup Grey’s hand with his own.
We can’t do this here
, he mouthed
silently, leaning into Grey’s hand, as if looking for something he needed but
couldn’t have.

“I
know,” Grey whispered, and dropped his hand. “I’m sorry.”

Paul
shook his head again, his eyes flashing wide open, a lifetime of misery there
for Grey to see and then it was gone.

“You
should leave.”

“If
you come with me.” Grey didn’t care anymore. He'd tried to stay away. Seeing
Paul again, like this… “I’m—”

Paul
covered his mouth before he could finish, his hand rough. He shook his head and
cut his eyes toward the open doorway and the people walking by. Grey shivered
again. This time rubbing his neck to settle the unease creeping along his skin.

“I
can’t. We can’t.” But his words didn’t match his actions. Paul moved against
him then, laying his head on Grey’s shoulder he tucked his nose into Grey’s
neck and inhaled.

Grey
sighed, letting Paul melt against him. He wrapped his arms around the slender
man and held him as close as he could. There was no sexual heat. No spark of desire.
Just comfort. Paul wanted or needed comfort and Grey needed to give him
everything he wanted. The first kiss was tentative. Paul’s hands in his hair,
as he pressed him against the wall. Lips softly brushing Grey’s.