Play It Again, Charlie (3 page)

Charlie met the kid's eyes and blinked, noticing that some of the jewel-brightness around him was artificial, that his eyelashes were sparkling with glitter. He felt his mouth click closed— he hadn't even been aware it had been open— and scowled.

The kid just watched him and then smiled suddenly, like day breaking.

“
Again
,” the kid said softly, almost to himself.

“Lee.” The blond man's voice brought both their heads up, and then the kid sighed and rolled his eyes at Charlie, inviting him in on a joke he didn't understand. “Liam,” the blond man said again, his tone impatient and on the verge of demanding. “
William.
You dragged me out for this, remember? You can talk to your new daddy later.”

For a joke, it wasn't very funny. Charlie focused on the other man, narrowing his eyes at the man lounging against the wall of the staircase of
his
building. There was a new lick of heat at his cheeks.

“You should go,” he muttered without taking his eyes off the arrogant blond figure, who didn't take his eyes off the two of them. As though Charlie was any sort of threat to their... whatever they were.

“Well,” the kid, William, began, as though Charlie hadn't said anything, then he stuck his hands in his back pockets. Charlie looked over, then quickly up when the action proved the man's belt was simply for decoration. “We're making a run to the store.” William peeked up through his sparkly lashes. “You want us to bring you something back?”

“I'm perfectly able to go to the sto— ” Charlie cut off his instant response. Those eyes were still trained on him. “No, I'm fine,” he answered instead, staring at the perfect circle of the other man's mouth as he sighed.

The disappointed look quickly changed to something more determined, a trace of color darkening his face. “Well, maybe I could... .”

“Lee!” The voice of his blond friend brought both of their heads up at the same time, but then the kid turned.

“Just a second,” he hissed, then he twisted back to Charlie with his charming smile. “Don't mind him, he's just mad because I said the only shorts men look good in are boxers.” It might have been a joke, except for the way the kid's eyes dipped, like he was remembering Charlie's boxer-briefs. “But I should go. Guess I'll see you later.”

Charlie knew he imagined the question mark at the end of that and couldn't even get his mouth open to respond. Anyway, just that quick the kid was heading in his friend's direction, both of them talking as they walked out of the complex and out of sight, all whispers and waving arms.

Charlie worked his jaw once, then turned.

The air inside his place smelled like dust and cat litter, so he dumped the books and the blue envelope on the kitchen counter as he walked through the small dining area to the living room. He got a shadowed reflection of himself for a moment in the glass of the long window behind the couch: his dark hair mussed and too long, streaked with gray and sweat, his jaw tight, a few lines at the corners of eyes nearly as dark as his hair. Then he looked away.

He slid the window open and headed back to the kitchen for a glass of water, drinking a full glass while he stared at the two pill bottles on top of his refrigerator. He decided on the over-the-counter pain reliever and popped two with his second glass, trying to keep his mind blank while he stared at the collection of unappetizing leftovers in his fridge. It didn't work.

Daddy.
As if he was that type. He couldn't even get a man to stay, much less tell one what to do.

He slammed the fridge door and leaned back against the counter, sighing at the ache the moment he took the weight off his hip. The textbooks were next to him, but he didn't even glance at them.

The light was dim, even with the window open, but he watched from the kitchen as Sam hopped up and stretched out on the back of the couch, clearly enjoying the breeze that ruffled his long gray and white fur.

“Maybe I should leave the fan on during the day for you, huh?” Charlie said out loud, not that he expected the cat to react. Unless he was in the mood for scratches, Sam never reacted to what Charlie did aside from when he got out the carrier or opened pouches of wet food.

His hip gave another twinge, and Charlie stood up, stripping off his coat without elbow patches and leaving it on a kitchen chair as he moved to the living room.

His groan wasn't entirely for the pain in his lower body as he eased himself onto the couch, lying back onto a scratchy pillow and getting his legs up on the cushions. He yanked at his tie, pulled it loose, and grunted at the weight of Sam landing on his stomach.

“Thank you for that,” he grumbled. Sam just blinked at him, beautiful and knowing, and Charlie shut his eyes while he softly rubbed his ears. “How about we skip dinner?”

Long minutes later, when the ache finally subsided, he kicked off his shoes. Sam instantly jumped to the floor and went to scratch at his food bowl.

“Responsibilities.” Charlie's stomach was still upset, his balance off, but he moved. “Right,” he agreed, opening his eyes and then very slowly getting to his feet. He turned on his laptop as he passed his small desk.

He had a few forums to check, had put off answering that e-mail from Mark for as long as he could, and had a new book that lay unopened on his nightstand. A busy night, he told himself, wrinkling his nose. He needed to call Ann back too.

He didn't glance at his door as he pulled a pouch of wet food from a cabinet, frowning for even thinking about it.

The laptop starting up was the only sound in the world until Sam meowed at him for taking too long.

He woke up tangled in the sheets of his bed and trying to figure out why he was awake. His body was stiff, but Charlie jerked upright when he heard the murmur of raised voices not all that far off.

He'd left the window in his bedroom partially open so cooler air could creep in, and though the air was now bordering on chilly, he got up.

What pain there was in his hip was negligible, but he could definitely hear the sounds of a disturbance. Son of a bitch.

Charlie paused at his closet and considered grabbing his lock box with his weapon in it for half a second before he shook his head. He grabbed his cell phone instead as he moved silently across the carpet to his kitchen, then to the door, sticking the phone in the breast pocket of his T-shirt.

The moment he cracked the door and got a good look, he stepped out without thinking.

The security light on the first staircase had switched on, illuminating the two men having a not-very-muffled argument in the middle of the night.

“Could you keep it
down
?” Charlie followed the sound of that smooth voice and lifted his head to watch William come fully into view, his blond friend a second later. He was following, or rather pressing forward and forcing William to back up until he got to the wall at the top of the landing. William's hands were up in that familiar easy gesture, and he could have been the same flirtatious man from earlier that evening, except that his smile was gone.

Charlie brought his attention back to the friend. He got a good look at the aggressive display of bare chest and muscle and then narrowed his eyes when the man reached out and put a hand on William's shoulder.

It was a small shove, but the kid had nowhere to go except against the wall.

“This is bullshit and you know it, Lee!” the blond man accused, and even at this distance, Charlie could see the surprised widening of William's eyes, the way he kept his hands up. Then just like that Charlie was moving, stopping just beyond the circle of flowers, at the edge of the light from the staircase so they could both clearly see him.

“Anybody want to tell me what's going on here?” He didn't have to raise his voice much, just went still when they did, his training kicking in after all this time. If he was calm, chances were they would stay calm as well.

He angled his body, put one hand at his side from habit, but didn't move it away. If they were dumb enough to think he had a gun in his underwear, then that was fine with him.

He directed his look at William— Lee, whatever— though they were both blinking at him. The friend jerked one arm in his direction, then back at William, who finally seemed able to move again, getting a few steps to the side now that his friend was distracted.

“First he breaks up with me... .” The friend only continued to rant, leaving William at the wall and taking a few steps down the stairs. Charlie put one hand out, and the man stopped, but it was only to wave behind him, indicating that it wasn't Charlie he was talking to. “And now I have to deal with your lame apartment manager? This is bullshit.”

“Hey!” Charlie barked, not once taking his eyes off him, not even when William stepped forward again.

“See, Chris, I told you, you have to keep it down.” His soft voice was like the night air; it sent shivers along Charlie's arms. But Chris squinted and frowned, and when he lifted his head, Charlie could see his dull, glazed-over expression and a hint of a flush at his cheeks.

Damn it. That was all he needed. At least there was no sign of a weapon; Charlie wasn't sure where Chris could even have hidden one in those shorts.

William moved again, slowly, at the edge of Charlie's vision as he put one hand on his friend's shoulder. “Now Officer Howard is here.” He paused. Charlie only shivered again, glancing over at William and the question he could feel in the air. “It is, isn't it? Officer?” There was a flash of white teeth in his smartass grin, like the kid was pleased with himself.

Charlie took his gaze away.

“No.” He looked back at Chris and actually saw the comprehension enter his face a second before the man's lips curved up into a smug smile. Then Charlie was speaking again before he could think better of it. “It's Sergeant.” It
was
sergeant.

Charlie growled the rank he'd earned and then sucked in a breath to add the rest, had to, no matter how much it was going to diminish his authority here, but Chris wasn't listening. He was mumbling, half turning on the steps to accuse William of something and then spinning back.

Somewhere in Charlie's gut was a feeling that he hadn't had since he'd been on patrol. He was suddenly sure that this wasn't going to go well for Chris.

“Some rent-a-cop?” was all that came out of the man's mouth, along with, “bullshit!” It wasn't even close to the most original rant Charlie had ever heard from anyone, high or sober, but it
was
loud.

“Get your voice down.” Charlie kept his concerns out of his voice, and the calm, firm request carried to the two of them, making William go still.

Chris shut his mouth, swaying for one stunned moment before he lowered his head.

“
You
don't get to tell
me
what to do,” he insisted with one big back and forth wave between the three of them, and then he jumped down the last few stairs.

The security light flicked off, then on again, making it seem like Chris was suddenly much too close, and Charlie flicked his gaze to him, then to William, bouncing into motion after his friend.

Chris didn't appear to be listening, and Charlie straightened up, swept a considering look over Chris's thin frame, then over the ground, which was all cement except for the flower patch and not something that he'd want to wrestle on, even with a good hip.

“Chris?” Charlie asked without reaching for his phone. This was stupid, he knew that, but he kept his voice level until William finally reached his friend and got shoved away for his trouble. “Why don't you tell me what's going on, Chris? You stay back,” Charlie warned William and felt his pulse kick up again.

Chris wasn't much of a fighter, probably not even when sober. He swung out one hand in an attempted punch, and Charlie grabbed his arm, twisting him around until it was behind his back. Chris let out a startled grunt, tried to struggle, and made another small noise when it finally sank in that trying to fight in his current position only hurt him.

Charlie gripped tighter when the small attempt at winning his freedom nearly made Chris fall. The ground was soft under both of them; they must be in the flower bed. He waited until Chris finally went still and then patted him down, grabbed his other arm, and got that behind him too, not that he had cuffs on him.

“Don't hurt him!” William was a few feet away. Charlie scowled in his direction as he caught his breath.

“You want me to be
nice
to your boyfriend after he threatened you?”

William actually rocked back on his heels and gave Charlie a look that was all wide eyes, apparently more startled by that than anything else.

Chris spoke up again. “I'm not his boyfriend.” Charlie adjusted his grip, but Chris wasn't trying to fight anymore. After a moment he dropped his head to his chest, and Charlie nodded.

“And he didn't threaten me,” William added, still quiet and out of breath, and Charlie looked over at him again, realized now that the calming tone was being aimed at
him,
and coughed to cover his disbelief. But his heart was beating furiously, his body was tense, and he could feel the heat under his skin.

“You going to behave?” He turned quickly back to Chris. The kid drooped even more.

“He normally does,” William remarked, pushing out a long breath. “I don't know what happened... .”

“You don't know?” Charlie interrupted. He got his eyebrows up, heard his voice getting rougher. “How about this?”

He reached down into the pocket of Chris's shorts and instantly found what he'd thought he would. Over the sound of Chris's startled exclamations, Charlie pulled out two small dime bags, one so empty the light was shining through it.

William's eyes narrowed, but Charlie only stared back and waited.

“Shut up,” he told Chris absently a minute later, as if he had been trying to feel the guy up and not simply taking his drugs away. The complaining stopped, just like that, and Charlie fixed his gaze on William's irritated and then too innocent expression. “Not in my building.”

He stuffed both bags into his pocket with his phone. He would throw the bags away later, and the trouble he was going through just made him flush hotter and yank his eyes off his troublemaking neighbor.