L.A. Boneyard (19 page)

Chris pulled away from Des, his face set in a new hardness.

“No, Trevor’s right. I have to deal with this.” He sagged. “I just hope I’m wrong. I’ll die if I lose him. I love him so much—”

“Then tell him that. I know David. He’d never do anything to hurt you.”

“God, I hope you’re right.” Chris dashed tears out of his eyes and forced a smile, though he didn’t feel like it. “I’ll call him and tell him he has to come home early tonight. We need to talk.” Suddenly his face fell. “But what if he won’t come?”

“Tell him he has to if he wants to save his relationship.”

Chris shivered, shrinking away from the coming confrontation. Would he only succeed in making David mad?

Could his attempts to save what they had backfire, and drive David away for good?

“If he gives up on you that easily, then maybe it’s for the best—”

“No! I won’t let him go.”

“Then fight for him,” Des said. “Fight this bitch out to steal your man. Don’t you dare give up without a fight. Isn’t David worth it?”

Chris returned home, and immediately took the ecstatic dog out for a long walk, to clear his head, and think about what he was going to say to David. Finally, at four he sat down in the living room and picked up the cordless phone. He dialed David’s cell, rather than his office phone number. If David was out on a case... he refused to think about David being out there
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with Jairo, pushing the horrible images that popped unbidden and unwanted out of his head. David answered on the fifth ring. Chris knew he’d have seen the caller ID and would know who was calling.

“Hello, David.”

“Hey, Chris. Something up?”

“Yes, something is up.” Chris chewed on his inner cheek, still unsure how to approach this. Then he plunged ahead. “I need to talk to you.”

“Ah, sure, I’ll be home as soon as I can—”

“No, David. That’s not good enough. I need you to come home now.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone. Chris could almost hear David’s mind turning. He knew something was wrong. “I don’t know if I can—”

“Do it, David. If what we have is at all important to you, then you will come home right now and stop playing these stupid games.”

“I’ve never played games with you,” David said quietly.

Chris could hear the fear in his normally strong voice. Was he starting to realize what he had done? “You’re not making any sense, hon. Let me finish up here and I’ll come right home—”

“I’m not your fucking hon. Just get home, David. Then we’ll talk.” He slammed the phone down, immediately regretting that all his carefully thought out words had failed him and he had attacked David like some rabid pit bull. Fretting that David would call back and demand an explanation. But the phone remained depressingly silent.

Was David sleeping with Jairo? He sat staring out the window, even ignoring the dog, who whined and shoved his damp nose into Chris’s groin. He didn’t want to know—

No, he had to know. Even if it meant ruining what had been up until now a perfect relationship... only who was he kidding.

Had it ever been perfect? David had never opened up to him.

Had never really been part of ‘them.’ He kept a small part of himself from Chris, ostensibly to protect Chris from the L.A. BONEYARD
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ugliness of his world. But really, wasn’t it about keeping Chris isolated from his world? As long as Chris was at David’s side and in his life, David couldn’t hide who he was. The whole world knew.

Chris tried to redial the number, but the cell was unreachable. David had broken regs and turned it off.

Sunday, 4:20 PM, Cove Avenue, Silver Lake, Los Angeles
A stone settled in Chris’s gut and he jumped to his feet. He paced through the kitchen to the backyard. Sergeant trailed after him, bouncing after the knotted rope Chris and David used to play tug-of-war with him. He brought the treasured toy over to Chris, who half-heartedly tugged on it, releasing it almost immediately. The dog raced off, leaping over David’s carefully tended flower beds and coming back to beg Chris to do it again.

After nearly half an hour of this Chris heard a car door slam outside. He stood up when David came through the patio door.

He ignored everything but Chris. Chris only had to look at his dark, pockmarked face to
know
. It was true. Some part of him had wanted it to be nothing but his overactive imagination. He could no longer do that.

“What’s going on?” David asked.

“I think you know,” Chris said. “Are you sleeping with him, David?”

“Sleeping—God no, what gave you that idea?”

Chris noticed he didn’t ask who he was making the accusation against. His heart sank further. “But you want to, don’t you? That’s why he came around here last night, isn’t it?

He was hoping he’d come across you out with the dog. Then what? You’d find a nice cozy motel room? Or maybe you don’t care and you’d do it right in the park—”

David grabbed Chris’s arms and jerked him around to face him. “No, it’s never been like that.”

“Then tell me how it is. Because I really want to know, David. Do you get hard for him? What’s it like to fuck him, like you fuck me? Is it more exciting when it’s so sneaky? Does flouting your vows make it hotter?”

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“We never said any vows. We agreed it wasn’t necessary—”

“No, you made that little agreement all on your own. We never talked about what I wanted. It was always what you wanted, and you didn’t want the enlightened boys in blue you work for to make fun of you. Getting married would have given them a whole new game to play with you. They’d have had a field day and you know it,” Chris was shouting now, hands clenched at his side, shaking with rage. “What about the ring I gave you? Doesn’t that mean anything to you? Or do you just take it off and moon over your new pretty boy? You never did take us seriously. I was always an embarrassment to you.”

“That’s not true. I’ve never taken my ring off. I never will, unless you tell me it’s over,” David tried to pull Chris into his arms. He was stiff with anger. David’s voice was thick with sorrow. “Please don’t tell me it’s over. I love you.”

“I love you, too, David—”

“Then—”

“But that’s not good enough right now. I want you to tell me what’s been going on. I know I’m not wrong, something’s going on between you two. I want to know what.”

David sighed. “He came onto me. I never expected... He’s married, so it was only natural to assume he was straight.”

“And would it have mattered if you knew he was gay at the start? Or are you making excuses that since he came on to you, that it’s okay you wanted him back?”

“It wasn’t—okay, when he first kissed me, I’d had too much to drink. I guess I wasn’t thinking... It was wrong. I knew it right away and I stopped it.”

“But that wasn’t the end of it, was it? I was gone for several days, first the hospital, then back east on business. Is that when you fucked him?”

David winced at the crudity. “I never, I swear. You have to believe me, Chris.”

“No, David, I don’t have to believe anything you say right now. You’re still trying to pretend nothing happened, but it did, didn’t it? Why did he come by here looking for you?”

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“He seems to think if he’s persistent that I’ll give in. He kept bringing his dog over and wanting to walk. I didn’t see the harm in it, at first.”

“Didn’t see the harm in it? The guy fucking kisses you and you don’t see any harm in his coming around while, conveniently, I’m not home.”

David flushed and looked away.

“Then what happened?”

“Then one night he showed up and after our run I invited him in for a beer. When he was leaving, he kissed me again...”

“Don’t tell me.” Chris knew he was being a full blown bitch but he couldn’t help it. “You kissed him back.”

David’s gaze fell.
God, he can’t even look at me.

“Is that how it went?”

“Yeah,” David whispered. “Something like that.”

“And that was okay with you? You kissed this guy in our home and enjoyed it? Or did you do more?” Chris was watching him closely and saw David flinch. “My God, you did, didn’t you? Did you fuck him? Did he fuck you? Maybe he sucked your cock—”

David’s gaze skittered sideways and Chris
knew
. “He gave you a blow job?”

“No! Yes, but it wasn’t like that. I swear—”

“How could you, David. Four years, David. Four years. You getting the seven-year itch early? Or is this some kind of mid-life crisis? What’s next, a little red sports job you can use to cruise West Hollywood looking for twinks?”

“That’s craz— No, I’m not interested. I was never interested even when I was alone.”

“Just Jairo, right? He the only one these days who makes you hard?”

“Chris—”

“I don’t believe you, and because I can’t, I can’t trust you and I want you out. Right now I don’t want to see your face. I
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can’t believe you would do this to us. That the last four years don’t mean anything to you.”

“Oh God, Chris, don’t—”

“Go. Maybe we can have a civilized talk later. Right now I can’t even look at you.”

David’s shoulders slumped and he turned away from Chris.

“I’ll let you know where I am. Is that okay with you?”

“Whatever.”

David went upstairs and returned ten minutes later lugging a large suitcase. Chris followed him and stood in the living room, facing the front door. He was rigid and his body vibrated with unleashed tension. David paused at the door, and tried, one more time.

“Please, Chris. I would never cheat on you. I swear.”

“Except you already did, didn’t you?” Chris turned away, hands clenched into fists. “We’ll talk later. Right now I wouldn’t be very polite. If we’re going to have any hope in hell of saving us, I need a chance to cool off. You need to get this Jairo out of your system, one way or another. If that means fucking him, then so be it. But if you do, then it’s over. I never want to see you again. Just so you know what you’re losing. So there’s no misunderstanding.”

“I—” David started to say something else, then he clamped his lips shut and left, gently closing the solid oak door behind him. Seconds later Chris heard his Chevy fire up and roll out of the driveway. Only the soft mournful call of a dove filled the yard.

Chris slumped against the wall, eyes closed.

“What did I just do? Oh David. I’m sorry...”

Sunday, 5:45 PM, Orchid Hotel, San Fernando Road, Los Angeles
David threw his suitcase on the geometric patterned comforter that somebody must have thought looked New Age, and sat on the bed. In the window an air conditioner rattled and L.A. BONEYARD
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blew out air that was only slightly cooler than the stuffy room held. There was a greasy spoon next to the hotel, and he knew he should get something to eat, but his appetite had completely deserted him. He couldn’t eat if he wanted to, though his stomach growled in reproach.

How could it go so wrong, so fast? He’d thought at least Chris would be willing to talk. Chris might be hot-headed, but he was fair.

David knew he had hurt Chris more than anything he had ever done before. Face it, their relationship had almost been an accident. They had nothing in common, and it had been a long time before he realized he needed Chris. Maybe more than Chris needed him. More than honor or life itself.

But he had apologized, hadn’t he, and meant it. What more did Chris want? What more could he give? The crack about them not taking vows had been the lowest blow. What was he thinking? Vows or not, they had long ago made a commitment to each other. How could he be so cavalier about that? Or was Chris right, he didn’t take them seriously? Admittedly Chris was right in one thing: David had never been as comfortable flaunting the fact that they were a couple. He had always known it made him the object of a lot of fellow cops’ derision, and he had always chafed at that. He thought he’d learned to ignore them, but a part buried deep inside him had never made peace with his ‘deviancy.’ Was that going to destroy what they had now?

Chris meant the world to him. Why couldn’t he make him see that? This was a nightmare. A nightmare he didn’t have time for. He had a Byzantine case to sort out, a partner who seemed determined to turn his life upside down and an ongoing headache that made clear thinking impossible. He lay on the bed and tried to sleep, but couldn’t stop his mind from racing, futilely pursuing some sense of the last week. The pillows and bed clothes smelled of industrial laundry soap and a vague, underlying smell from past tenants. No Chris anywhere. It was as though he had already been erased, tossed in the landfill of broken hopes. “Jesus.” He slammed his fist down into the thin pillow. “Now you’re being a melodramatic fool.”

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Instead of going next door to the diner, he found the nearest drugstore and bought a large bottle of Advil and a six-pack of beer. If he couldn’t think straight, then at least maybe he could dull the pain enough that he couldn’t think at all.

But sleep eluded him even after he finished the six-pack and downed several pain pills. When he finally dragged himself out of bed the next morning at five, he threw himself under a hot shower, scalding his skin and scrubbing his body so hard he left it red. He didn’t bother shaving. It seemed like too much effort.

Throwing his jacket on, he found his Rolex in the pocket and held it up to the light. He didn’t need to actually see it to know the inscription Chris had had engraved on it for his fortieth birthday.
To David, with all my love, Chris.
He stared down at the watch for several heartbeats, then he slipped it on his wrist and shrugged the jacket on.

Jairo did a double take when he walked into the squad room later that morning.

“Whoa, man. What chewed on your ass?” He took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. “Jesus, you spend half the night boozing it up? Should have called me, I’d have kept you company.”

“Shut up, Jairo. Talk to me when you got your reports done and not before. Hear me?”

“I hear you. Loud and clear.”