everything until you find one you like.”
I eventual y found a nice Chai tea that smel ed deliciously of cinnamon and honey Marc picked up a cup at random and started drinking. We both took scones and sat at the counter.
I told Marc about Al en’s death. I described for him the crazy sons and my visit to The Center for Creative Empowerment Therapy. I told him about the gay suicides and how they haven’t been reported in the press. That was what I needed his help to investigate.
“Wow,” Marc said, after he heard the whole story.
“That’s what I cal good customer service. Would you do al that for me if I ended up on the pavement?”
“Al en was a friend,” I told him. “But the answer is
‘yes.’”
Marc smiled. “I bet you would.” He reached out to ruffle my hair. “You’re a pretty special kid.”
“Thanks. Can you help me?”
“You mean, can I il egal y hack into the files at police headquarters and find out the information they’re withholding from the press?”
I nodded.
“With my dominant hand tied behind my back,” he grinned. “But I’l go you one better. Wait here a minute.”
Marc went into his office and returned with a laptop. Flipping it open, he fussed with the mouse and keyboard.
“Give me al the information you have. I’l put it into my data mining program and we’l see what comes up.”
“Data mining?” I asked him
“It’s one of the information technology tools that governments use to catch terrorists. It’s like a giant database that looks at mil ions of other databases and other information to make relevant connections.
“Like, for example, the program might notice that five people from a country with terrorist connections who al attended the same military training program have dissolved their bank accounts and booked themselves on the same flight. Each one of those pieces of data might be insignificant, but when you put them al together, wel, I wouldn’t want to be on that plane.”
“Got it,” I said.
“So download to me everything you know that’s related to Al en’s death and we’l see what turns up.”
I rattled off al the people and places that I knew were involved, including the eight names Tony had given me of the supposed suicides, which I read off the list I stil carried in my wal et. Marc typed it al in.
“OK,” he said. “It wil take a day or two to run that through the program. I’l cal you when I find anything out.”
I got up and sat on his lap. “You’re wonderful.” I kissed him on the lips. Now I know what he’d been drinking-he tasted of caramel.
“Mmm,” he said. “You’re going to get me started.”
I looked at the clock. I had over an hour before I had to be at The Stuff of Life.
“And this is a bad thing why?” I asked. Then, I realized that he might think I was working.
“Listen,” I said. “I’m going to tel you something I’ve never told another client. You know how you’ve been paying me over the past couple of months?”
He nodded.
“I would have done at least half those things for free.”
“Real y?” he said, his voice cracking like a teenager’s.
“Uh-huh,” I said, kissing his neck. “Maybe even three quarters.” I scraped his skin with my teeth.
“Mmmm,” he groaned. I felt him grow hard against me. “I don’t mind paying. But it’s nice to know.”
“Wel, today’s on the house,” I said. “If you have time.”
Marc stood up, grabbing me behind the knees and carrying me to the bedroom. “I think I can squeeze you in.”
As I pul ed my shorts back on, Marc looked at me affectionately from the bed. “What you’re involved in, it’s got me a little worried.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re dealing with a possible murderer here,”
Marc explained. “You said that guy Michael looked like he wanted to hurt you. I don’t want to see anything bad happen to you.”
I stood up and executed some Krav Maga moves and then jumped into a handstand. “I can take care of myself.”
“Hey,” Marc said, standing up, naked. Although we had both just cum twenty minutes ago, he looked like he was getting excited again. “Little tough man.
Who knew?”
I playful y flexed my biceps. “Grrrr!”
“Where’d you learn to get al Jackie Chan like that?”
“When you’re a little blond boy like me,” I said,
“you either learn to defend yourself or you wind up an easy target.”
Marc took me in his arms. “Wel, I’m impressed.”
I grabbed him where it counts. “I can see.”
Marc put his hand under my chin and tilted my face up to his. His eyes looked steadily into mine. “I know we’ve spent plenty of time together, but I guess I’ve never real y gotten to know you. But today, wel, I think I’ve learned a lot about you. You’re smart and brave and resourceful and strong in ways that I never knew. I have to say, I like what I see.”
I heard Mrs. Cherry’s words in my head. “Give ‘em your mouth, your dick, and your ass. But do me a favor: keep your heart to yourself.”
Was she right?
I blushed.
Marc put his hands on my hot cheeks. “That’s cute.”
I definitely had feelings for Marc. But could I love him?
Maybe, but he was no Tony.
Tony? Shit, where had that come from? Ugh.
I threw my arms around Marc and hugged him tightly. “Thank you for helping me,” I said.
Marc hugged me back. “Thank you for asking.”
CHAPTER 15
I arrived at The Stuff of Life about fifteen minutes before the lunch shift, planning to tel Vicki about my bizarre meeting with Roger Folds. But as I walked through the door, my cel phone rang. It was my father.
I went into an empty office to take his cal.
“So,” my father began, “if you don’t mind my asking such a thing, what was your mother’s car doing racing down our street at midnight last night?”
“Oh, you saw?” I asked.
“The whole neighborhood saw. At least no one else recognized her. For this, we should be thankful.”
“It’s kind of a long story,” I said.
“You can start with why you were in a tree peeping into Mrs. Kubacki’s window.”
“She saw me?”
“She saw someone. And it doesn’t take a brain surgeon to know that your mother didn’t haul her fat, excuse me for saying, ass up that tree.”
