Crazy From the Heat (8 page)

“Pleading
the fifth. Okay, I wasn’t much of a punk kid. I was more of a nerd happy to
have my nose in a book, but I am far from innocent. And I haven’t forgotten
that you still haven’t told me where you’re from.”

“Busted.
Okay, it’s like this. My dad is Navy. My mom was just a mom until I was old
enough to take care of myself, and she worked as a secretary for an officer
after that. We moved around a lot. I spent a year or two in one place. And then
he’d get orders and we’d move.

"My
dad is from San Diego, he grew up near Coronado and wanted to be a SEAL. My mom
is from Norfolk, Virginia. He met her while he was stationed there. So I have
this East Coast / West Coast thing going on. I ended up going to school in
Chicago. Fell into law enforcement when I was twenty. Doing pretty much exactly
what I’m doing now. Became a patrol officer after I graduated, went back into
undercover work. I made detective a few years ago, transferred to New Orleans
because I wanted a change of scenery. Got messed up with a guy who was using me
for information, and I was sent here until that dies down. And that’s pretty
much all there is, Prof. Besides liking guys and working twenty-hour days. What
you see is what you get.”

“Now
exactly what was so bad about telling me that?” Grey rubbed his hand. Paul had
forgotten he was still holding on to him.

He
closed his eyes and sighed. “I haven’t seen my parents in twelve years. Dad
didn’t take my lifestyle choice well. He disowned me. I went to a small school
in Chicago on a soccer scholarship. I don’t like to think about it much. I’m
thirty and, like you said, I look like a fifteen year old street punk. I don’t
belong anywhere…Yada yada. I’m caught in between some horrific past and the
wonder years. So, that’s all I got. And I like it here, too. I guess. I’ve
lived in some real shit holes. I could live without the heat.” He shrugged
again. Nothing like spilling his guts to a potential date to send him running.

“And
that’s more than what’s his name could ever string together. I knew about the
drugs. I just didn’t know it was that bad. Or that he had stuff on him. That’s
what that was. Me trying to get him to leave. I usually move faster than—"
And again he stopped talking, closing his eyes as if he was reliving the last
few hours. “We never had anything. I met him at a club. He was all talk.
Usually passed out not long after we landed here. And every time we came close
to taking a step toward anything, he would pull back. Somehow it became
I
wanted to take things slow. And last night there was nothing slow about
anything. He was angry. About you. About what he thought was me lying to him. I
don’t even know his last name. I’m pretty sure he’s just some bum I let sleep
on my couch and eat my food because I’m stupid.”

“Grey,”
Paul held tight to his hand when he tried to pull away. He felt the trembling
there. “Okay, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me this. You can just forget
about it and move on. Okay.” He found himself on his feet and, just like Friday
night, standing between the man’s knees, except this time the man leaned
against him his fingers clawing at Paul’s shirt his body racked with tremors.
Paul held him while he struggled for control. “It’s shock. Now that it’s over,
you’re coming down. It’s normal.”

“And
it’s you. Again…Seeing me like this…Like I’m some sort of…weak…I’m not…weak.”

“I
didn’t think you were Friday, and I don’t think that now.”

“He…he…on
the floor. Held me down. I couldn’t get him off…Hit me when I tried…He…Cocaine
in his pocket…Made him mean. I never…I…No choice…I’m so sorry.”

Paul
closed his eyes and held on to Grey as the story spilled out slowly. He knew
what he was hearing without the exact words. He knew what it was like to be out
of control.

“No
need to be sorry.”

“I
was weak. I let him hurt me.”

“He
can’t now.”

“You
don’t know…”

“I
know. I know all about it.”

“Because
you’re a cop?”

“Because
it happened to me, once. I thought I loved him. I didn’t see him for what he
was. I tried to end it and it went wrong. He was another cop. It went very
wrong. I left to start over.”

Grey
nodded against his chest. His breath coming in gasps as his tremors subsided.
“I should change the lock.”

“That
would probably be a good idea. Have the landlord change the downstairs locks
too. Your neighbor was afraid for you. She needs to be safe too.”

“Yeah.
Oh, God she heard us?”

“I’m
afraid so. Called the cops too.”

“They
didn’t show up.”

Paul
didn’t have an answer for that. He’d have to check, since it was the precinct
he was assigned to. Maybe the simple fact that they couldn’t get in the outer
door was the reason. Maybe they hadn’t bothered.

“I
did. And I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

“You’re
going to get me in trouble.”

“I’m
going to try and keep my hands to myself.”

“And
what if I forget in school. What if—"

“Just
call me Spicoli and everything will be fine. It’s not like we’re doing anything
wrong.”

“We
kissed. Once.”

“Twice.”
Paul wouldn’t point out where Grey’s hand was during that second kiss. He was
pretty sure that he’d forgotten that part of the night.

“Twice.”
Grey sat up, he seemed in control now. “How in the hell am I supposed to look
at you in my class knowing my hand has been down your jeans?”

“Oh,
hell. Now you remember that?”

“I
never forgot it. Or the sounds you were making.” He blushed and looked away.
“Okay, not good. I’m getting hard just thinking about—" He winced, going
pale which caused the bruises on his face to stand out in stark contrast. “I
don’t know how to handle everything right now. I’m attracted to you. Broke up
with a boyfriend I didn’t know I had because of you. It’s been so damned long
since I slept with anyone and I get beat up…” He moved out of Paul’s arms and
walked to the back door and out on to a small balcony that looked out over a
couple of smaller buildings and a parking lot.

“I
could give you a few names if you want? If you need someone to talk to about
what happened.” Paul followed him out into the early afternoon heat. September was
just a few days away and it was unbearably hot still. Last year in New Orleans
had been the same. “God, it’s hot.”

Grey
reached out and took his hand. Paul got that he liked to touch. And he didn’t
mind so much. He liked being touched. “I’ll be fine. It wasn’t what you think.”

“I
think he forced you into sex that you didn’t want, and then beat the hell out
of you when you didn’t give him what he wanted.”

“Okay,
it is what you think.” Grey looked away. “I called your name. I was still under
the pain pills. I get weird on pills. He flew into a rage. Guess I shouldn’t
fuck under the influence.”

Paul
squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“You
know what? I’m not. Okay. I’m not happy about looking like a piñata right now.
But it’s over. I handled it. You came in hours after and besides a few broken
dishes, I handled it. His drugs and what the fuck ever isn’t part of me. I
didn’t let him…” He stopped talking and Paul could see how hard he struggled
for the words. Denial. Yep. Grey was in it. “Who am I kidding? If you hadn’t
shown up he’d still be here and who knows what he would have done.”

“What’s
your cell number?” Paul pulled his phone out of his pocket and keyed in the
numbers as Grey rattled them off. “If he comes back, call me or text me or
whatever. I will drop what I’m doing and be here for you.”

“Why?” 

“Because
you’re not the only one fighting attraction, Prof. And I’m a cop. Why do I need
a reason besides that?”

Grey
leaned against the rail watching a pigeon waddle around on the next roof over.
At least that’s all Paul saw when he followed the man’s gaze.

“Okay.
It’s okay. I just…Okay, we need to take this slow.” He winced, making Paul
laugh. “I don’t believe I just said that. Not after everything.”

“But
it’s true. Especially after everything. And until I’m reassigned. Most
especially until I’m reassigned.” Except Paul didn’t want slow or easy. He
wanted to climb Grey like a stripper pole and hang on tight. “Come on, I’ll
help you clean up the broken dishes before you end up with glass in your feet
or something.”

“Works
for me. Because I’m so over bleeding all over the place.” Grey followed him
into the apartment. He seemed fine. Tired but fine. And Paul knew from
experience that looks are always deceiving. But for now that’s all he could do
for the man. Help him clean up the mess. Using him like a stripper pole would
just have to wait.

Chapter
Seven

By
the time Monday rolled around again, Grey was out of his mind stir crazy. He
peered into the mirror while he shaved. The bruises were mostly faded now. The
cut on his cheek from the mugging was all but healed over. But he could see the
damage. His hands were still stiff, but he no longer bled every time he tried
to paint or write. His knees were going to take more time. He could walk, but
he limped as the stitches pulled in the one knee. A few more days and he’d get
those out. Everything looked fine. The school seemed fine. The police incident
report that Paul filed the last time he’d seen him and the doctor’s excuse covered
him there.

The
thought of Paul made him stop. His stomach felt strange every time he thought
of the man. His too-young face with the old eyes that stared out at him. His
kiss when he’d left him last week. The text messages at strange times. Some
from his class, ragging on the sub. Grey felt his whole world flip around and
upside down every time he opened one of the messages. Just the name Gaines was
enough to sending him into fluttery pangs of
want
and
need
and
oh, God, just shut the hell up.

He
smiled at the mirror. He was scared to see Paul today. Afraid that everyone
would be able to see the shameless—this thing that they couldn’t have right
now. What if people saw? The students? Teachers? The principal? What would
happen if they knew he was spending time with someone who was supposed to be
under age? What if Paul was lying to him and really was—

Trust.
Grey’d let Cole rob him of that ability. He didn’t trust Paul. Because of Cole.
He didn’t trust himself to make decisions anymore, and that was Cole’s fault,
too. Cole had stolen all that from him in one weekend. And Grey had let him.

He
wiped the last of the shaving cream from his face and finished getting dressed
for school. August was officially over now, but it was still hot enough to fry
eggs on the sidewalk outside. Despite the heat, he pulled on a long sleeve
oxford and found his favorite tie, Marvin the Martian from Looney Tunes. He needed
the fun, and Marvin gave him that. Today, however, he left the jacket behind
and headed for the school.

Early
morning in Mobile was probably the nicest time of day. The heat was momentarily
at bay, flowers scented the air. He could smell fresh cut grass and hear a
ship’s horn from the docks. It was all strangely reminiscent of Baltimore, yet
completely foreign to him at times. Traffic this time of day was usually light.
He wound his way through the back streets to the high school and parked in the
faculty lot. The football team was on the field for the morning practice. He’d
watched the second game on local television last week. Two and oh. This week’s
game would be the second home game, and Grey decided that he’d go. It had been
years since he let himself get caught up in anything resembling school spirit.

The
early arriving kids greeted him with yawns and sleepy, “Morning Dr. Talbot's”
and he smiled back as he sipped a grande coffee. He'd missed this. Stopping in
the hallway he let that wash over him. He’d really missed this. After one year
and a couple of weeks he’d come to the conclusion that this school and these
kids and this town, this place, this was where he belonged.

Third
block arrived and he prepared to explain his week absence again. The bruises
made him feel self-conscious. He forgot about that detail when the blond in
baggy jeans, worn out Converse sneakers and sunglasses walked into his class
and right past him. He could feel the exhaustion emanating from him.

“Spicoli,
need I say it every day? Shades, dude. Shades.”

Paul
whipped around as if startled and, with a slight smile that he quickly changed
to an exaggerated frown, he lifted the glasses to their usual perch on top of
his head. The dark circles the glasses hid went to Grey’s gut. He remembered
the quip about working twenty hour days. If he kept to that schedule, he wasn’t
going to look like a teenager much longer. But then Grey decided that was a
good thing. Since the things he wanted to do to the man would get him arrested.

“So
you’re back. Hardly knew you were missing. And, you shouldn’t let your
girlfriend slap you around like that.” The quirk of the lips that usually came
when he was being a smart assed kid followed that last part.

“I
see you had a rough night out with the other hoods. So long as the cops don’t
come dragging you from my class, and you stay awake, I’ll let that slide.”