I nodded.
“I mean, just the way they’d look at him was weird. Invasive. It was hard just walking down the street with him sometimes because I’d find myself wondering, Is that man looking at us because we’re two guys holding hands? or, Is he cruising Richie? or, Is he cruising me? or, Does he recognize Richie from his movies? It made me kind of paranoid. It must have been one hundred times worse for Richie.”
Maybe. Or maybe Brent enjoyed the attention. Wanted people to watch. Some guys like to be looked at.
“The only ‘fan’ I can think of who seemed a little… obsessed.. wasn’t really a fan at all. At least, he wasn’t just a fan.”
I was confused. It had been a long day.
“Come again?”
“Well, when you think of a fan who’s a little too into someone, you think of all the cliches, right? The guy who shows up at your house with flowers, unexpected. Who sends you gifts you don’t want. Who calls twenty times a day. Who sometimes hangs up, but sometimes leaves long, rambling messages about how you’re meant to be together?
“Richie had a guy like that in his life. I guess you could say he was a fan, but he wasn’t a stranger. Richie knew him.”
Charlie’s lips did that thing where they narrowed and drew together. He ground his teeth for a moment, his expression darkening before he said, “When I say ‘knew’ him, I mean he had sex with him. Not with Richie, mind you. With Brent.”
I thought it was interesting how Charlie could make that distinction. I wasn’t sure if it was healthy or not, but it was interesting.
“They… did it together on screen, and I think the dude kind of fell in love with Richie. Or something. It was definitely stalkerish.
“And he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Because Richie wasn’t interested in him. Richie loved me.”
I thought I already knew the answer, but I asked anyway. “What’s his name?”
“Lucas Fisher,” he said. “At least, that’s his stage name. I don’t know his real one.”
Again, Charlie was making a distinction I wasn’t sure mattered much to the people he was describing.
“What about drugs? Did Richie get high?” Crystal meth and other recreational drugs weren’t unknown on porn sets. Brent could be on a binge.
“Not even a little,” Charlie asserted. I guess I looked skeptical. “Seriously. Have you seen him? He’s very serious about his body and staying in shape. He told me he smoked weed once, got the munchies, ate a gallon of ice cream, and decided then and there never to screw with his body’s chemistry.”
We talked a little more, and then I reminded Charlie he needed to get back to work.
“Thanks,” Charlie said. “When you first showed up, I thought you were Richie, and I was so happy. Then, you made me nervous. Now? I’m glad you’re looking out for him. For us. Will you let me know what you find out?”
I told him yes and we exchanged numbers.
As he stood to leave, Charlie seemed even taller than he did when we arrived. Not as gentle, either. He clenched his fist and the tendons in his thick neck stood out sharply. “Do you think that maybe Lucas did hurt him? Maybe he made a move on Richie and when Richie rejected him, he just… lost it. It could happen, right?”
“I suppose. It’s a little far-fetched.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Love and hate. Two sides of the same coin. Maybe Lucas didn’t like how the toss landed.”
We said good-bye.
I sat at the table a few more minutes, thinking. Charlie was an interesting case. I wasn’t sure what to make of him. Every time I thought him harmless, he’d surprise me with a darker aspect.
He thought in dualities. “Real” people versus “thing” people. Richie versus Brent. Love versus hate. Everything was a coin with two sides.
I was pretty sure that Charlie would never hurt Richie.
But he’d kill Brent in a heartbeat.
17
When I got home, Tony was sitting at the kitchen table. He’d done takeout for dinner again. This time, pizza.
I was really going to have to be a better wife.
He had papers spread across the table. When he heard the door open, he flipped over two of the pages. As I got nearer, I saw the ones that remained right side up pertained to a case he was working on. A woman who had been found murdered in Central Park. There were witness statements, evidence lists, and some photos of the crime scene. “Hey, babe,” he said, standing up to kiss me. “Did you get stuck at the office?”
I didn’t necessarily mean not to tell Tony about how I was looking into Brent’s disappearance. It’s just that it was a long story, and I didn’t have the energy to get into it right then. Especially since I suspected Tony would tell me to stay out of it. Which would lead to a fight.
Besides, since the reason I was trying to find Brent was to see if he had a story we could use on Sophie’s Voice, it wasn’t like I was lying or anything when I answered, “Yeah, it was work. Sorry I’m home so late.”
“No problem.” Tony nibbled my neck. He gestured toward the table. “I brought my work home. It’s good you weren’t here. Some of this stuff”-he gestured toward the pictures he’d turned over-“you don’t need to see.” He put the photos in a manila envelope.
“Gruesome?” I asked.
“Not pretty,” he answered.
“How do you do it?” I sat at the table and opened the cardboard pizza box. Bacon and pineapple. My favorite. The scone hadn’t ruined my appetite so I grabbed a slice.
“What?”
“Work around so much… ugliness every day?” Between hearing about that poor kid Adam this morning and then considering all the bad fates that might have befallen Brent, I’d found my day pretty depressing. “Doesn’t it get to you? All the garbage, the slime you deal with-after a while, does it ever feel like it’s starting to stick?”
“Naw,” Tony said. “I may be surrounded by dirt, but I’m the detergent, babe. I get to clean it up.”
He tapped on the folder in which he’d placed the photos out of my view. “I’m gonna find the scumbag who did this to her, and I’m gonna make sure he never hurts another girl again.”
That’s my Tony. Always protecting people. It made me proud. It made me admire him.
It also made me, for some reason, horny.
I decided to skip another slice. Of pizza that is.
“Best dessert ever,” Tony said, twenty minutes later when I stood up from between his legs.
“I don’t,” I said, licking my lips, “remember you eating anything.”
“I had a cannoli while you were down there.” He grinned. “It was so good I almost didn’t even notice what you were doing.”
“What?” I heard the whine in my voice and regretted it. “That is just rude. I can’t believe-”
“Kidding, babe, kidding.” Tony pulled me into his lap for a kiss. “Believe me, not all the baked goods in the world could distract me from those sweet lips of yours.” He licked them to reinforce his words.
“You better be telling me the truth, Rinaldi,” I said.
“Trust me, the way you get me going? I’d be afraid to try and eat something when you pleasure me. I’d probably choke to death.” He ran his hand over my chest. “Speaking of which, do you need me to return the favor? That was a nice surprise, but I don’t want to be selfish.”
“I, uh, kind of finished already. When I was… down there.” I blushed a little. “Couldn’t help it.”
Tony’s eyes widened, and he looked down at my crotch. Always the investigator, he wasn’t going to let me
