L. A. Mischief (15 page)

“Oh, I don’t know...”

“Come on, Des. It’s not every day I get a new car—even if this one is a step down from the monster truck.”

That got a chuckle out of Des, but he still hesitated.

“Hey, hon,” Chris said. “I can be just as stubborn as you. You know I can.” He calculated how far he could push his best friend. “I’m coming over. Now. Get dressed.”

Des sputtered a bit, but Chris overrode his protests. He hung up and went to change his own clothes, choosing black chinos and a mauve Izod shirt.

Making sure he had his wallet, keys and BlackBerry he grabbed a jacket and headed for the door.

Chris was afraid he had pushed Des too far and he’d find him in his PJs, refusing to go anywhere. Instead he found Des hovering around the door of his bungalow, dressed to the nines in a brand new Mauro Grifoni suit. Des’s mood had elevated. Chris hoped it wasn’t a manic phase that Des was going to crash from. He tried to keep the mood up. He whistled.

“Man, now I feel like a bag lady. Why didn’t you tell me you were going all out?”

Des flushed. “Am I overdressed?”

Chris took Des’s arm. “No, hon, you look perfect. Let’s go show those Ford salesmen what they’re missing.”

They drove in easy silence to the dealership on Vermont.

They met with the salesman and sat down in his office to sign all the paperwork. Chris had already secured a loan from his bank. Once the paperwork was done, and the keys to the Lexus handed over, Chris and Des walked through the lot to where the metallic Kiwi green car sat baking in the late morning sun. He popped the front door open and slid into the driver’s seat. Des climbed in beside him, inhaling the intoxicating new car smell.

Once in the new car he turned to Des. “I changed my mind. We’re too beautiful for Starbucks. Let’s hit The Abbey.”

“Are you sure...?”

“Still talking coffee,” Chris said. “I won’t be drinking. You can if you want.”

“I got my mind set on coffee. Maybe something chocolate for dessert.”

“Caramel fudge brownie cheesecake,” Chris said with a laugh at the look of mock horror on Des’s face. “It’s okay, I’m feeling a little giddy. David came by Wednesday night. He invited me to the LAPD Christmas party.”

“He did?” Des squealed. “I’m so happy for you. Oh, God, I’m so hoping this is finally it. You two so deserve each other.”

“I hope that’s a good thing.” Chris said.

“Me too.” Des was practically bouncing on the seat. “You will never guess who called me after you invited me out.”

“No, I can’t.” After his ordeal a lot of Des’s friends had been slow to come around. They had a hard time dealing with the violent rape—something Weiser had said was all too common. He had been glad that Chris had never abandoned his friend, though Chris never told him it was as much guilt as love. He had brought the Carpet Killer into their lives and blamed himself not only for Kyle’s death but Des’s rape and near death experience.

He was glad to hear someone had made the effort to come back into Des’s life. He just had no idea who.

“Come on, Des. Spill.”

“Trevor.”

“Trevor? Trevor Watson?”

That’s him.” Des grinned. “He’s coming home.”

“Home—I thought he moved to New York.”

“He did, and did very well, I gather. He’s coming back to shoot a pilot for some new TV series. If it’s picked up he’ll be here to stay.”

Chris hadn’t heard Des get this excited in ages, well, since Kyle had died.

“He’s going to stay with me, at least until he finds a place. I can’t have him languishing away in some cold hotel room.”

From what Chris remembered of the man who had almost been his lover, Trevor might languish, but he’d only do it alone if that’s what he wanted. The guy was a hot pistol and Chris doubted he ever went without a lover for long.

Chris frowned. “You sure that’s a good idea? Maybe I should talk to the guy—”

“I wouldn’t do that, boyfriend. Trev is still major bummed out that you thought he was that killer.”

Whoa, that wasn’t me, Chris wanted to say. That was... the police. He almost said David, since it was David who had interviewed the kids in the arcade where Trevor had gone to pick up his nephew who had vanished soon after, only to be discovered much later, another victim of the Carpet Killer. It turned out the Carpet Killer had been after Trevor, but got his nephew instead.

“That wasn’t me,” Chris said weakly. Des waved a scented hand at him.

“I’m sure he’ll get over it. Trev can’t hold a grudge.”

Chris shook his head, still not sure this was a smart move for Des. Des was one of those people who thrived in a relationship. Even a bad one, like he’d had with the spoiled narcissist, Kyle. But was Trevor the kind of guy who could give Des what he needed? Stability? Love? Sure he could give great sex, but what about the rest? Chris wasn’t even sure if Des was ready for anything physical. Dr. Weiser had touched on that subject often. Rape victims often suffered PTSD which could be triggered by further acts of intimacy. He didn’t want to see Des go back into that black hole of despair because someone like Trevor tried to take it to the next level too fast or too hard.

“I don’t know, hon. Maybe you should let him book a hotel. You can have him over for dinner, or better yet, we can go out to dinner and I can apologize to him for what he went through—”

“I don’t want that.” Des had his stubborn, ‘I’m not listening to you’ face on. “I think it will be fun to have him stay with me.”

Chris sighed. “Okay, you know what you want.” Privately he thought he just might have a talk with Trevor about how fragile Des was right now. If he cared for the guy at all, he wouldn’t push. “Even if he is pissed at me, I still want to see him.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll want to tell you off, but he’ll be happy to see you, too.”

“Right,” Chris said, resigned to a bitchfest with Trevor before the ax could be buried. Hopefully not in his head.

“When’s he arriving?”

“Day after tomorrow. I said I’d pick him up at the airport.”

“Ah, Sunday. Same day as the Christmas party.”

Chris surrendered the Escape to a red-coated valet and entered The Abbey, the grand dame of West Hollywood gay bars. Instantly overwhelmed by house music, Chris followed a waiter toward the row of curtained cabanas that would give them privacy.

They gave their orders for a latte and a cappuccino and Chris added some brioche as an afterthought. Then Chris and Des leaned back in the cushioned seats and contemplated each other.

“Sure you don’t want a drink? I won’t mind,” Des said.

“Nah, I’m trying to cut down. Doing too many stupid things when I drink.”

Des’s eyebrows rose in mock surprise. “Christopher Bellamere worried about consequences?”

“Yeah, it’s called growing up.”

“Mmm.” Des suddenly smiled. “I should try it sometime. Only in small doses, though.”

“That’s the secret. Maturity in little increments. Works for me.”

Their coffees and brioche arrived. Des dove into the food like he was starving. Chris watched him in amazement. “You want to get a menu? We can get some appetizers—or lunch.”

“Maybe in a bit. So give me the dish, boyfriend. I want to know what’s going on with David.”

“Nothing to tell. He came by and asked me to the Christmas party.”

“And then...?”

“He went home.”

“You let him go home? How could you?”

“I’m not about to wrestle the guy into my house,” Chris said dryly.

“Why not? He might like it. I’m pretty damn sure you would.”

Chris grinned. “But I want to do things differently this time.”

“What do you want?”

Toying with his coffee mug, Chris looked sheepish. “I want more than a roll in the sack. We had that for a month, and it wasn’t enough.”

“Is it David?”

Chris shook his head then frowned. “He’s had so much trouble accepting the fact that he’s gay. I’m so proud of him, but I’m afraid he can’t see that.”

“He’s not ashamed of you.”

“No? But he won’t be seen in public with me. Or he wouldn’t. Maybe that’s changing.”

“Now he wants to take you to an LAPD party? That’s pretty in your face.”

Chris smiled at the memory. “He even wants me to dress up. I wonder what he’ll wear?” Suddenly he laughed. “He could go naked for all I care. I just want to be with him.”

“I really envy you,” Des said softly. “I wish...” His voice trailed off.

Chris reached over and took his hand. “You’ll find someone, hon. You’re too good a person not to.”

“I wish I could believe that. I thought Kyle was my last hope.”

“No he wasn’t and I want you to stop thinking like that. You’re a good man. An incredible man. I don’t know anyone else who could have gone through what you did and survived. I know I wouldn’t have.”

Des squeezed his hand back. “Now who’s being hard on himself? Come on, let’s face it, we’re a couple of bitches who don’t give up. That’s why you’re going to get David back. That’s why I’m going to move on, and put Kyle where he belongs, in my memories.” But there was still a wealth of pain in his voice.

Chris scooted over on the bench, pushing a pillow that separated them aside and slipped his arm around Des’s shoulder.

“No matter what, I’m always here for you. You know that, don’t you?”

Des wept softly on Chris’s shoulder. For several seconds there was no sound but his soft sobs. Then he hiccupped and raised his tear stained face. “There, I think I’m ready now. In fact, I think I’d like a drink. A mojito.”

Chris signaled a nearby waiter and put in the order, asking for a virgin strawberry Daiquiri for himself. He was determined not to drink anyplace where there might be the temptation of a ready cock.

When their drinks arrived they put aside their nearly finished coffees. Des raised his highball glass in salute. “To your love. May it never fade and go away.”

“To yours.”

They touched glasses and drank.

DAVID ARRIVED EXACTLY on time. Chris threw the door opened to find David, and blinked at the man in front of him.

David was wearing his LAPD uniform. Three chevrons were sewn onto the sleeve of his navy serge jacket. The custom made suit was designed to hide the requisite shoulder holster that Chris knew he wore underneath. Even to a Christmas party he wore his duty weapon. All the cops did.

“Wow,” he said a little breathlessly.

David flushed. “It’s okay?”

“It’s perfect.”

He stepped close and straightened David’s tie, smoothing his hands over the lapel of his jacket. He felt a heaviness in his cock, which he struggled to ignore. Instead he looped his arm through David’s.

“You look wonderful. Come on, we’ll be the best looking couple there.”

The prospect didn’t seem to please David but he followed Chris down the steps. “Your car or mine?” he asked.

“Let’s take mine,” said Chris. “It still has the new smell. You can drive,” he added, handing David the keys.

David suddenly stopped walking and Chris looked at him in confusion.

“What—?”

“Forgot something...” David walked over to his car. Chris was about to follow him when David opened the trunk and pulled out two brightly wrapped gifts. “I told you, it’s a toy drive. I picked up a couple of presents—I didn’t know if you would think to get something.”

“The thought never entered my head so I’m glad you did,” Chris laughed. He scooped the larger of the two presents out of David’s arms. “So, what did I get?”

“A Barbie horse.” David smirked. “Pink.”

“Pink.” Chris winced. “What did you get? A tank?”

“Nah, I won’t buy weapons of mass destruction. Or any kind of weapon. It’s a fire truck. What kid doesn’t like fire trucks?”

“Hmph. So why can’t I give the fire truck?”

“Can you imagine the horror on those cop’s faces if I start handing out pink horses?”

Chris rolled his eyes. He looped his free arm through David’s. “Come on, butch. Let’s make this party before the ice melts in the beer tub.”

The parking lot of the Academy was nearly full of mini vans and hulking SUVs with trailer hitches. David had told him once many of the cops had boats or campers. The mini vans were for the cops with families. Martinez’s second vehicle was a Dodge Caravan that his wife drove most days.

A steady stream of uniformed cops and their wives moved into the Christmas themed auditorium where the party was being staged. A band was setting up in one corner, four cops who regularly played LAPD events. David led the way past glitter and tinsel, not looking left or right, as though afraid of who he might see. Chris was having none of it. He marched beside David, head thrown back, eyes meeting everyone who looked their way. He would smile at each person and nod to the odd familiar face—there weren’t many of them—but spoke to no one until they were cornered by one young cop and his even younger companion.

“David,” he said. “Good to see you here. Is this Chris?”

So word had gotten out about him, Chris thought. Figured. David always said gossip ran like wildfire through the force, far outstripping the facts in their need to titillate.

“Yes, this is Chris, Christopher Bellamere. This is Roderick Billings and...?” David looked from Billings to the woman at his side.

“My wife, Alicia.”

She held out her hand. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“Thanks.”

When next he looked up it was to see Martinez plowing through the crowd. “Davey, didn’t think you were going to make it.” His dark eyes slid over Chris and he forced a smile. “Chris. Good to see you again. Things going well?”

“Fine.”

“Where’s Inez?” David asked.

“She was going to come, looking forward to it, but one of the kids came down with some kind of nasty bug so she stayed home with him.”

“Hope it’s nothing serious,” David said.

“Me too. So far just a slight fever and he’s cranky as hell. You’d think he was five instead of twelve. But you know mothers. They worry about everything. Come on, let’s go grab a beer.”

Getting himself a Bud and Chris a glass of white wine, David fell to mingling uneasily as he moved through the crowd. He introduced Chris to a few more of the people he worked with, including Bryan Williams who was there alone. He shook both Chris and David’s hands vigorously.