Innuendo (10 page)

Shit, he thought, feeling his heart suddenly tighten. He's just my type. But, no, not tonight.

Diverting his eyes, he slipped his camera inside his coat and turned away, abandoning any pretext of interest. Carefully and purposefully not looking back so as not to encourage the other, the young man moved out of the woods in two quick steps, then dashed to the left and hurried off to his car.

Was the idea of
a gay relationship ludicrous? Impossible?

Immediately after speaking with Jordy, Todd bypassed the station and returned to his apartment, a two-bedroom condo on the fifteenth floor of a high-rise with killer views of Lake Calhoun. Usually hesitant to drink alone because of the alcoholism that had run so freely in his family he poured himself a large glass of cabernet just moments after he walked in the door. He was desperate for something to slow his thoughts, if not his heart, and he stood at the sliding glass balcony door, peering into the night and thinking only: What the fuck was Jordy talking about?

Not long ago Todd had seen something on CNN about sexuality and the sexes, and it now came back to haunt him with the thought that a relationship between two men could never work. According to the report, which was done to explain the sundry interests of none other than the President, a man's evolutionary duty was to spread his seed far and wide, while a woman's was to guard her future, i.e., the offspring. In scientific terms that made sense, he thought, but how did it apply to two gay men? And did it mean that by their very nature they were doubly destined to sleep around?

Todd took a long, deep swallow of red wine, then turned and wandered over to the black leather couch that was the main fixture of the living room. He dropped himself into the deep cushions and thought how the heterosexual role model that his parents had provided him as a kid was certainly nothing to rave about. In fact, it was all but a lie. His father had been a drinker, verbally abusive to both his wife and sons. His mother had been sweet on the outside, but torn with anguish within, coming to life only after her husband had drunk himself to death. In retrospect, Todd thought they should have divorced, for neither parent had been happy. It was, looking back on it, a pathetic waste of two lives.

Yes, Todd had grown up with that archetype and had for a good while mimicked it nearly to a T. He'd married Karen, and they'd looked the beautiful Chicago couple, he a dashing reporter, she a successful physician. They'd been popular and well-off, the quintessential yuppie couple all about the Windy City. The entire time, however, Todd's truth, his sexuality, had been eating at him, and eventually he did the best thing he ever did for his wife, he divorced her.

So he didn't want either the type of relationship he'd seen while growing up, or the type he'd lived before coming out. Yet for all intents and purposes, his relationship with Rawlins had fallen into that marital model and that monogamous expectation, at least until recently.

“I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, I really do,” Rawlins had said over dinner last month. “But I'm not sure a monogamous relationship can really work, that it's really practical for two guys. Do we want to be that confined? That restricted? I mean, if by chance I end up having a quickie with someone, I don't want to have to end up lying to you just to save our relationship.”

Totally unprepared, Todd asked what immediately came to mind. “What… what are you saying? Are you trying to tell me you've already had sex with someone else?”

“No, I'm just trying to be realistic, that's all. And I'm not just talking about gay people either—just look at all the straight people screwing around and lying about it. They always end up splitting up because of some stupid expectation. I want us to be better than that and… and I don't want us to break up. That's why I've never been in a monogamous relationship before.”

“Well, maybe that's why none of your other relationships has lasted more than a year.”

“Todd, come on, be serious.”

“I am. It's fine for other people, but an open relationship is not what I want. I just don't think it can work, at least not for me. I don't have that kind of energy.”

No, either he didn't have that kind of emotional and mental energy to be continually processing who was seeing whom and doing what with whom. Or he simply wasn't secure enough. It was, he thought, surely a combination of the two, but the latter, if he was completely honest to himself, was probably the far greater of the reasons. No, he didn't give a rip what anyone else did or wanted or how they defined their happiness, but in this restless world he wanted one rock that he could claim and rely upon as his and his alone.

It was the beginning of an ongoing conversation, one that didn't leave Todd with any warm, fuzzy feelings, either.

“I don't want to be confining and restrictive, I really don't. The last thing I want to do is try to crush someone,” Todd had recently said. “But, I'm sorry, I just can't handle the thought of me staying at home watching TV while you're off screwing someone else.”

“But what about this: You're out of town doing a story, you have too much to drink, and a gorgeous waiter seduces you. It could easily happen, you know.”

“Yeah, but, Rawlins…”

“Yeah, but what? If it happens you'd rather lie about it?”

“No, I… I…”

The closest they'd come to a compromise was to agree upon total trust and total honesty. In other words, they wouldn't go looking for it, but if something happened, if one of them strayed outside the relationship, the first to find out would be the other. And then it would be no big deal, end of story.

Todd's black cat, Girlfriend, came sauntering into the room, her tail swishing from side to side in that seductive kitty way. She jumped onto the couch, then made her way into his lap, and he stroked her, running his hand down the length of her spine and all the way to the tip of her tail. She had belonged to Curt, who'd died of AIDS and who'd been so terribly worried about what would happen to the simplest, most innocent thing in his life, this creature. Todd gently pulled her closer, nuzzling her until she broke into a motor of a purr.

Oh, shit, thought Todd as he took another sip of wine, the fucking problem with a gay relationship was that it was like trying to reinvent the wheel. First of all, there was no one sanctioned way to establish a same-sex relationship, particularly not legally, which certainly didn't help. After all, how could you encourage a union with someone without the support of the community, the culture, and the legal system? And how could you support your rights to happiness and prosperity when you had no legal rights to look after your spouse's well-being, health, or financial needs?

On the other hand…

Perhaps it was good that everything was open to discussion and negotiation, particularly if the archetypal model, the heterosexual one, had its flaws. And perhaps it was better if things didn't work between two people that they simply split and went their own ways.

But where could you turn for a model of a gay relationship that worked? And what, for that matter, did work?

Trust. Honesty.

Once again, when it came right down to it, that was all Todd wanted: the knowledge that no matter what happened in this wonderful, shitty world, there was one person he could count on for his integrity, for his word. And that was why his heart now ached, not so much because Rawlins might not have kept his dick zipped up in a chastity belt of morality, but because it looked like Rawlins had already broken their recent agreement by not saying anything. Had the entire discussion been futile? Had Rawlins merely been trying to justify something he'd already done?

Or had there been nothing?

Of course that was a possibility, but if something had happened it was now infinitely more complicated. Andrew was seventeen, just a kid. Rawlins was a cop, someone in a position of authority. If something sexual had happened between them, not only did Todd find it reprehensible, but it also opened an insidious can of trouble. Major league trouble. Todd didn't know the exact Minnesota statutes, but there was no doubt in his mind that sex between someone that young and someone that much older constituted criminal sexual conduct.

And now Andrew was dead and Rawlins would be investigating his murder.

“Oh, shit,” mumbled Todd to himself.

This was not good. If Rawlins had screwed Andrew, things couldn't be worse, both in terms of the law and in terms of Todd and Rawlins's relationship. And, Jesus Christ, what if… what if Rawlins knew something relevant to the murder case itself? Would he withhold it, just as it seemed he had been withholding information from Todd?

It was almost more than Todd could stomach, and he downed the rest of the wine, then sat there in the dim light, slowly stroking the cat over and over. His eyes wide and tired, he looked straight ahead but saw nothing. Some fifteen or twenty minutes later Girlfriend, unable to bear the monotonous, nearly compulsive attention, scurried off, bounding behind a chair and out of Todd's reach. Seeing that it was well after midnight, Todd got up, took his wineglass into the kitchen, where he set it on the white counter, then sauntered down the narrow hall to the bedroom.

Dear God, what was he going to say, what was he going to do, when Rawlins came home, whenever that might be?

He washed, brushed his teeth, and stripped, then went to bed and lay just like that, awake and naked, for well over an hour. He fully knew how these things went, that the first hours of any murder investigation were the most critical, and that if Rawlins came home at all it wouldn't be until very late. Very, very late. In fact, he might just work through the night. And although with each wakeful moment Todd seemed increasingly confident that he himself would never fall asleep, somehow he did just that.

But then he heard the click of keys in the front door.

Rolling over, he glanced at his digital clock and saw that it was 4:09. Lying as still as the dead, his ears traced Rawlins's every movement. He heard the zipper of his jacket, the closet door. Then came the soft padding of steps down the carpeted hallway, through the bedroom, and into the bathroom. A door was shut, the fan went on, a spray of water charged to life. Just as he so often did after a long, tense day of work, Rawlins took a brief shower, washing away the grime of his job and, undoubtedly tonight, the odor of Andrew's death, which was sure to have permeated so very much.

Tense with fear and worry and still without the faintest idea of how he was going to handle this, Todd continued to lie motionless until Rawlins finally came out. With all his attention, he discerned Rawlins coming around the foot of the bed, then sensed, of course, the comforter pulled back. Next the mattress sank as Rawlins climbed in and scooted across, and a second later he was spooning Todd from behind. Todd bit his lip, forced himself not to move, not to say anything, as he felt that thick hairy chest press against his back, as the muscular arm wrapped around his stomach. And it was more than he could bear when he felt Rawlins kissing him on the back of the neck.

Finally, in a faint voice Todd said, “Hi.”

Right off the bat Rawlins said, “I love you.”

It was far more than he could resist, and he turned his head so that his mouth could find Rawlins's.

“I love you too,” he said, and then kissed him.

Never had Todd meant it more. And never had Todd wanted him more, both physically and emotionally. In one quick swoop he twisted fully around, and then they were in each other's arms, kissing and groping, pulling and tugging.

I want you, thought Todd. I need you. Don't go. You're the best, the most wonderful thing that's ever happened to me.

In an instant he was ready. His hand shot down, surfed the fur on Rawlins's stomach, then plunged into Rawlins's coarser pubic hair and found him just as he wanted, rigid and erect. Todd stroked him, and Rawlins shook and clung to Todd, his strong fingers digging into Todd's shoulders.

And then Rawlins, his voice deep yet weak, said, “Are… are you alright?”

“Not really.”

Right then Todd realized that no matter how desperate he was to know, he wasn't going to ask, not about young Andrew. No, if this relationship was going to work Rawlins was going to have to come to Todd and tell him.

“How about you?’ asked Todd, realizing that he had just given Rawlins rope and then some with which to hang himself.

“I'm… wiped out.”

Todd clung to him, kissing him pathetically on the cheek, the ear, the neck, and realizing finally what was going on here. This was a test. A test Rawlins didn't even know he was taking, but one that he was, at this point, most certainly failing.

It was just after
seven when Todd sensed Rawlins forcing himself out of bed, then back into the shower and eventually back into his clothes. Through a haze of sleep Todd wondered why Rawlins had bothered coming home at all, but of course it wasn't that unusual. When a murder investigation was just cranking up, Rawlins grabbed sleep whenever and however he could.

With each moment Todd woke up more and more, quite quickly so, but he didn't call out to Rawlins, nor did he even flinch. Rather he just lay there completely still until he was absolutely positive that Rawlins was out the door. He didn't get up because he didn't want to talk to Rawlins. And he didn't want to talk to him because he simply didn't know what to say: I love you, I hate you.