“That’s a strap-on,” she answered, not joking. “It’s more for my girlfriend’s pleasure than mine. Not to mention the occasional straight boy I get to deflower. Now, that’s fun.”
Mostly lesbian Vicki had told me before about her love for cherry picking. “You,” I said, “are a truly a giver. In every way.”
“I try,” she answered. I could hear the cocky Elvis-like grin that went with her ebony slicked-back hair and sensual features. “What’s going on with you?” she asked. “How’s Tony?”
“Oops,” I lied. “That’s the other line. I gotta go. Good luck with Lucas. And leave his ass alone, okay? He’s confused enough as it is.”
I disconnected. I was glad to hear Lucas looked like a good fit for Stuff of Life. He needed structure. And some friends, too. I seriously considered giving Charlie his number. They both had some grieving to do. Maybe it would be easier if they did it together. Maybe not. I’d leave it be for now.
Brent’s murder haunted us all.
Three times Tony called me with updates about the case. We kept the conversations short and to the point.
Just the facts, man.
I tried to get on with my life.
I tried not to miss Tony.
I tried not to miss Rafi.
Every night, I cried myself to sleep.
Every morning, I woke to a pillow wet with tears. I didn’t remember my dreams, only the sadness they inspired.
The days passed.
Once again, I’d come a lot closer to death than I’d planned to.
I was happy to be alive.
But I wasn’t happy.
One Friday night, three weeks after Tony’s departure, two uniformed officers showed up at my door. I hadn’t yet changed out of my work clothes. We’d had a meeting with network executives, and I had to dress like a real professional that day-a tie and everything. For some stupid reason, I was glad the cops hadn’t found me in my usual household ensemble of Joe Snyder boxer-briefs and a Hello Kitty T-shirt. It made me feel more grown-up.
“Mr. Connor,” they greeted me. They introduced themselves. Officer Payne was an African-American man in his fifties with a graying moustache and a warm, lazy smile that probably was deceptive in its ability to put a suspect at ease. His partner, O’Brien, was maybe in his mid-twenties, a red-haired Irish boy with wide green eyes and a smattering of freckles. His handsome features seemed wasted on him-I had the distinct feeling he had no idea what to do with them. He radiated a sincerity and earnestness that would do him no good either as a player or as a New York City police officer.
He looked like he had a lot to learn, and his partner seemed like the kind of veteran who could teach him.
O’Brien’s eyes scanned my apartment. His eyes landed on a copy of the British gay magazine Attitude that I’d left open to a particularly provocative underwear ad. He blushed furiously, as if scandalized by the display of rippling abs and padded crotch.
Yeah, he’d have to toughen up if he was going to make it in this city.
It was intimidating to have the law at my door like that, but the armor of my business suit and my immediate ability to imagine these two in the buddy-cop movie version of themselves helped me stay relatively relaxed. I invited them in and they accepted.
It didn’t take long before they told me why they were there: Was I available to ride over to the station with them to review some matters related to Brent’s case?
“Can’t we do it here?” I asked.
With convincing contriteness, they explained there was physical evidence they needed me to review. They made it hard to say no, answering my questions before I had a chance to ask them.
It wouldn’t take more than an hour or two of my time. They were sorry to have barged in on me like this, but they didn’t want to bother me at work. We could reschedule for a more convenient time, but they were trying to move the investigation along before people started fleeing town or covering their tracks. The sooner I could help them, the better chance there was for convictions.
I was torn. Was something fishy going on? Did I need a lawyer? On the other hand, if this small inconvenience meant I could do more to help bring Brent’s killers to justice, I didn’t want to delay.
As he had for the past ten minutes, O’Brien glanced at me surreptitiously, making me feel guilty of something, although I didn’t know what.
Good cop that he was, though, Officer Payne met my eyes steadily and understood my interior struggle.
“We promise,” he said, “no hidden agenda. Detective Rinaldi wanted us to give you his personal assurance this is on the up-and-up. He’d have come himself, but he couldn’t work tonight. Family thing. But he wanted us to let you know you have nothing to worry about, and he really could use your help.”
This unexpected request suddenly made sense. Tony had probably needed some information from me but couldn’t figure out a way to get it without our having to see each other. Whatever took him away tonight was the perfect opportunity to get my help without a chance of us crossing paths.
“This ‘family thing,’ ” I couldn’t help asking, “is everything okay? His son didn’t get hurt or anything, did he?”
Payne’s reassuring smile appeared genuine. “No, no, nothing like that. It was more of a family get-together he’d almost forgotten about. Nothing bad.”
A “family get-together.” For some reason, the first and only possibility that occurred to me was his wedding anniversary. Although he might have been divorced, I couldn’t shake my suspicion that after leaving me he would reunite with his ex. He was that desperate to have a “normal” life.
The more generous part of me allowed that some of his motivation might have been to spare Rafi the pain of divorced parents and, possibly, a dad who was in love with another guy.
I thought he was making a mistake. I didn’t believe that being raised in a tense home with parents who despised each other and a father who denied himself happiness was a recipe for a healthy childhood, either.
Plus, I’d have made a fabulous second dad.
But, as Tony had made clear, my opinions didn’t matter.
Funny. Until he left, I really thought they did. I thought Tony was on the same trip I was. Aware of the potholes on the road to our being together, but committed to reaching the same destination.
I was wrong. I thought we were heading for a happily ever after.
Who knew he’d been looking for the exit ramp?
Still, I trusted Tony wouldn’t want to see me hurt. Well, more hurt than I already was. If he gave his word through his officers, I believed him.
Even by proxy, I didn’t think he’d lie to me.
Turns out, I was wrong about that, too.
45
It was eight-thirty by the time the officers and I headed out to their unmarked car. On the way to the station, I asked what they needed to show me.
“It’s better we don’t say,” Payne responded. He took his eyes off the road for a second to give me another let-me-put-your-mind-at-ease smile. “We’re not trying to be mysterious. It’s just that anything we tell you may be prejudicial. If we ever have to put you on the stand-and I’m not saying we would-I wouldn’t want some smart-ass defense attorney claiming we’d influenced you before you saw the evidence.”
