Sole Survivor

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Detective Jake O’Malley didn’t know which way to turn or who to take in—but given the chaos in the room, somebody needed arresting! Chairs were overturned and scattered as people had apparently fled the melee. Several social-worker types were standing around, ineffectively trying to calm the yelling men.

To Jake’s right was a colorful, flamboyant young Latino shrieking about his personal right to beat the hell out of that “¡estúpido, desgraciado idiota!” while wildly gesturing to the other side of the room and being restrained by one of New York’s finest, an annoyed looking Officer Walinski. Jake nodded as he made eye contact with the beleaguered officer.

To Jake’s left, two more of NYC’s finest, Officers James and McConnell, were corralling a muscular man dressed in black who was pacing back and forth screaming about his right to not be offended by looking at the “faggoty ghetto trash!”

It was highly unusual for the police to be called to the Rainbow Center, even more so that a homicide detective such as Jake was here. This place usually kept a low profile. The Rainbow Center had a good relationship not only with the community but also with the police. It had been established as a place to provide services to people suffering with HIV and AIDS; it also offered numerous programs for job training, life coaching, and general “be the best you can be” type groups. The clientele ran the gamut from gay to straight to transgender—and everything in between.

Yet here Jake stood, surrounded by a cacophony of yelling, a headache building behind his eyes and the urge to crack a few skulls rising in his body. Then, in walked trouble. Extremely hot-looking trouble, but trouble nonetheless. Adam Huntington was rapidly approaching with his hand outstretched.

“Thank God you’re here, Detective O’Malley. Thanks for the quick response.”

Too close, thought Jake, much too close! as he shook the outstretched hand. He could smell Adam, his scent rising up, tickling his nostrils and drilling straight into the pleasure sensors of his brain.

A mutual friend had set him and Adam up on a disastrous blind date about ten months earlier. At the time, Jake had still been smarting from a bad break-up. Jake figured walking in on your supposed boyfriend being screwed by a crystal meth w***e—without a condom—qualified as a bad break-up! On top of that, he’d had one of the worst weeks of his professional life and had wanted to cancel the date. Mark, the mutual friend, had pressured him to keep it, saying it would be a good distraction. Instead, Jake had been a grade-A asshole, gotten drunk, and acted aggressive and stupid.

Needless to say, Jake had been too embarrassed to contact Adam again. He’d intended to call and apologize, but as days had turned into weeks, he’d felt it was best to let sleeping dogs lie. So Jake had kept clear of Adam and any place he risked running into him—until now.

“Um, Detective?”

Jake realized he’d been holding Adam’s hand a little too long and quickly let it go.

“Yes. So, what’s going on here?”

“We were having a group discussion about the recent passing of one of our members, and Miguel…” Adam gestured toward the shrieking young man swearing in Spanish,”…took deep offense at something Todd said.” He gestured to the muscular man in black. “And all hell broke loose.”

“What’d he say?”

“That he’s glad the motherfucker killed himself, that hell could have him!” screamed Miguel. Then he collapsed in a heap onto Officer Walinski and started sobbing loudly. Walinski looked miserable.

“Kinda harsh, don’t you think?” Jake said to Adam.

“Todd likes to get a rise out of people. Group dynamics usually help to rein things in. Miguel was extremely close to the person who passed and, as you can see…what’s the therapeutic term, oh, yes…lost his s**t over it.” Adam smiled. “We couldn’t get things calmed down, and several concerned group members called you guys as they ran out the door. With emotions running so high, we were concerned for the group members’ safety.”

Jake searched Adam’s liquid brown eyes flecked with gold; not a touch of guile was there. He saw the irises widen as Adam seemed to take him in. God, he could stare into those eyes for hours. He now knew what poets meant when they wrote about falling into the pools of someone’s eyes. So deep and mysterious. So sexy and…

“Detective?”

“Uh, yeah…ummm, sounds like you made the right call. Hey, isn’t this the second client to die in the past few weeks?”

Concern flashed in Adam’s eyes before he looked away. Returning his gaze to Jake, Adam said, “Well, we work with a very volatile clientele and many have severe emotional and health issues. So it isn’t too surprising. Extremely upsetting, though…” Adam’s voice trailed off.

“Anything unusual about the death?”

Adam c****d his head, his brows furrowed slightly. “Not really. He’d had some struggles with…um…”

Jake could see Adam trying to figure out what he could share without breaking client confidentiality. “Drugs?” he offered.

Relief flashed across Adam’s face. “According to the initial medical examiner’s report, he took a couple of Ambien and then injected a lot of Special K…I mean Ketamine. Miguel was the one who found him. I feel so bad for Miguel!”

Jake admired Adam’s careful answer, noting that he’d not confirmed or denied the drug addiction of the former group member, only reporting what was written in the Medical Examiner’s report.

While Adam spoke, he stared at a sobbing Miguel, giving the detective the opportunity to study Adam’s chiseled features: the dark, almost black, unruly hair, the high cheekbones, the plump, luscious lips—lips made for kissing—lips made for dragging around Jake’s hard…

“Detective? You okay?” Adam’s eyes met his own.

“Yeah, sorry. Bit of a headache going on. Probably too much coffee.”

“Yeah, that can do it.” Adam chuckled. “I can help you get rid of it, if you’d like. Learned a few techniques for dealing with my own headaches.”

A heavyset older woman, complete with gray-streaked hair pulled back into a practical ponytail and no makeup, came rushing into the room and addressed Adam. “Mr. Huntington, Dr. Turner needs a moment of your time. Could you…?”

“Of course, Ms. Jackson, I’ll be right there.” Adam flashed a smile at the woman and then turned to Jake. “Sorry. The executive director. I’ve been summoned.” Adam’s eyes twinkled. “Do you need me, Detective?”

Jake swallowed. “Nah, you’re good. I can take it from here.”

“And, Detective? I’m serious about helping your headache. Come see me in my office after you finish sorting things out here. Twelfth floor, room 1207.”

And with that, Jake watched Adam turn and walk away, his pants molding over two beautiful mounds of round muscle as he exited the room. Jake was in deep trouble!

“Motherfuckin’ freak dissin’ my dead friend,” wailed Miguel, bringing Jake back to the immediate situation. “Let me kick his ass! Let me go! No one talks that way about—”

“ENOUGH!” Jake bellowed, stunning everyone into momentary silence. “Officers,” he said, facing James and McConnell, “would you be so kind as to escort the young gentleman outside. Offer him the choice between jail and a taxi home.”

“You can’t do that!” Todd screamed, “I know my rights! You can’t do that!”

“Yeah, I can. You want to fuckin’ try me?” Jake glared. “Now, get him out of here! If he doesn’t want the taxi, take him in for disturbing the peace.”

As the officers hustled the man out of the room, Jake turned his glower onto various social workers who were milling about. “Okay, folks, let’s clear the room. We need to talk with Mr. Rodriguez in private. “

Miguel continued sobbing on Officer Walinski’s wet-looking shoulder.

This was the actual reason Jake had been coming to the building when the disturbance call came through. Miguel had repeatedly called into the station demanding to talk with the chief of police. He had also made frequent calls to the public advocate’s office, the mayor’s office, and the city council. Now, a few reporters from the Post and the Daily News had started asking questions, which meant Mr. Rodriguez had also been busy contacting the media. As a result, the chief had placed Jake on the case of calming Miguel Rodriguez, and he had explicitly instructed him to do whatever it took to make Miguel happy and to stop calling.

“Mr. Rodriguez—”

“It’s not fair!” he moaned. “Mattie was a good guy. He didn’t deserve to be killed.”

“Mr. Rodriguez, I’m Detective O’Malley and the chief has asked me to talk with you. I understand you have expressed some concerns about your friend’s suicide.”

“It was murder!” he screeched. “He was murdered!”

“Okay. Sir, I need you to calm down so we can talk. Can you do that for me? Can you stop crying? Maybe take a few breaths?”

“Yes.” Miguel sniffled. “I can do that. But he was murdered, Detective. You’ve got to find his killer!”

“Please, Mr. Rodriguez.” Jake picked up a couple of the fallen chairs and gestured for Miguel to sit.

“Thank you, papi.” Miguel stroked Walinski’s shoulder. “Mmmm, such broad shoulders!” He then marched over and primly sat on one of the chairs, crossed his legs, and folded his arms across his chest. A grateful looking Walinski blended into the background; close enough to hear and intervene if need be, but far enough out of sight to not seem involved.

Jake picked up another chair and placed it across from Miguel. “I understand that you and Mr. Schneider, the decedent, were close.”

“We were sisters! We told each other everything! And I know he didn’t kill himself.”

“Well, according to his Doctor, Mr. Schneider had reported suicidal ideation several times over the past year.”

“Yes, but he wouldn’t do it! I know him. He wouldn’t do it!”

The drilling in Jake’s head increased; he pinched between his eyes in an attempt to relieve a bit of the pain. “Why, Mr. Rodriguez? Why would he say these things to his doctor and yet it not be reasonable to say he killed himself? We know he was deeply in debt and was being evicted from his apartment. He must have been stressed and probably deeply depressed.”

“Oh, puh-leeze. He was a gay man living with AIDS. He’d survived worse stress than an eviction. Besides, he was excited that night—he had a date.”

“With?”

“He wouldn’t say. I figured it was someone from one of our groups because he wouldn’t tell me. We’re not supposed to get involved with group members. I had asked and asked, but he would only say, ‘Ask me no questions, and I’ll tell you no lies.’ It was someone from one of the groups.”

“Well, okay…” Jake paused. “Maybe the date didn’t go well. Maybe he was rejected or—”

Miguel laughed harshly. “Are you kidding? Mattie was a model with a huge d**k. Ain’t no one going to pass on a ride with him! Besides, he overdosed on Special K, right? Well, he hated K. His drug of choice was crystal. But he’d been clean for a year. Besides, he hated needles. So, why did he stick a needle in his butt? I’ll tell you why! Because he didn’t do it! He didn’t kill himself.”

Jake hated to admit it, but the kid had a point—not a big one, but a possibly valid one.

“Okay, look, I’ll make you a deal. If I look into the ‘date situation’ with Mr. Schneider will you promise to stop calling the chief of police, the mayor, the city council, all of them?”

Miguel snickered. “I knew I’d get a response sooner or later. Okay, I’ll only call you—until you piss me off.”

“Fair enough.” Jake smiled.

“You ever model, Detective?”

“What?”

“You’re hot, Papi! Wouldn’t mind riding on your pinga.”

“All right, enough. Give me a few days to see what I can find out and I’ll call you with the results. Until then, no more calls!”

“Fine.” Miguel licked his lips while salaciously looking Jake up and down. “Mmmm, a fine looking papi!” He pulled out his wallet, withdrew a business card and offered it to Jake. “Here’s my telephone number. Call me anytime.”

“I’ve got your number, Mr. Rodriguez.”

Jake stood and walked out of the room, his headache still jackhammering inside his skull. He thought back to Adam’s offer of relief. He could relieve a lot, Jake thought as memories of his boorish behavior on their fateful blind date warred with the vision of Adam’s muscular, round ass walking out of the room a short while earlier. Passion won out. Apparently, sleeping dogs don’t stay sleeping, thought Jake. This dog wants to hump someone’s leg. He smiled to himself as he walked to the elevator and pushed the button for the twelfth floor.

* * * *

Adam straightened a stack of papers for the umpteenth time. He realigned the stapler with the paper clip holder on the desk, again, his sweaty palms leaving marks on whatever they touched. Get a grip, dude! Adam told himself. He took several deep breaths and let each one out slowly. This helped to calm his racing pulse—a bit. His eyes scanned the office, again. He took in the tidy space: the filing cabinet with the table lamp on top, the framed degrees on the walls, the small bookshelf filled with reference works on psychology, self-help, group dynamics, and such. Not the most exciting of topics but ones that helped Adam more efficiently run the groups and provide life coaching to the clients. He tried picturing how a first-time visitor would see the sparsely decorated office—more utilitarian than Architectural Digest.

The only thing of any interest was a medium-sized picture of a bumblebee on a vivid fuchsia Gerbera daisy against a brilliant blue sky and the words “Gravity is Optional!” printed in bold black lettering across the bottom.

The picture was a very personal one, one that Adam had asked an artist friend to create. The words had come to him one night as he’d slept. There had been many nights he’d thought he couldn’t go on. Too much had happened, too many horrible things seen and experienced. In the midst of this torturous psychological whirlwind, his brain had tossed him the curious saying about gravity.

If Adam’s subconscious mind was talking to him, helping him heal from the horror he’d endured, he needed to figure out what it was trying to say. So he’d searched the Internet for clues as to what the phrase meant. He’d stumbled upon some articles that stated the laws of aerodynamics proved the bumblebee should be incapable of flying. While this was more science humor than solid science fact, it had given Adam the key to understanding the phrase. His subconscious mind had been telling him even though things appeared solid and concrete, that wasn’t the only truth. In fact, he was just a small dot on a small planet in a medium-sized galaxy and he could choose how he wanted to live his life, how he wanted to react, how he wanted to feel.

Maybe gravity existed because everyone agreed it did, and maybe the bumblebee flew because he believed he could. What seemed impossible was actually possible because he believed it to be so. Okay, it wasn’t the greatest logic and had little basis in scientific fact, but it had been a great psychological Band-Aid. The phrase had really gotten Adam thinking outside the usual victim box, and it had been vital to his healing. Realizing there was a bigger worldview than the one he had been allowing himself, Adam started looking for new and different ways of viewing situations.

“Okay, that little jaunt to philosophy-land had killed a few minutes.” He leaned back in his office chair and sighed, again. Dude, you’re only putting off the inevitable, he told himself. “What the f**k were you thinking inviting Jake O’Malley up here?”

It wasn’t that Adam didn’t find the detective incredibly attractive. He did. The man radiated s*x. It was just that Adam had made a huge jackass out of himself on their blind date and had spent the last ten months studiously avoiding Jake O’Malley. Well, not exactly avoiding him; Adam had seen him out at some of the clubs, but he’d only seen Jake from a distance. Although he’d been careful to stay out of sight, he had to admit he’d taken time to surreptitiously observe the gorgeous detective at play in his natural environment.

What Adam observed had only fueled his confusion. The detective was always surrounded by a group of good-looking friends, but he seemed to stand apart, his eyes scanning the room, as if he were guarding his friends. This apparent protectiveness was sexy as hell. Once or twice, Adam had watched as Jake defused a minor scuffle between inebriated guys, not in an aggressive manner but with humor and a gentle, albeit firm, hand.

So what had made the date such a disaster? he wondered.

At the time, Adam had still been experiencing frequent nightmares and not getting enough sleep. That particular day, he’d really been struggling with his sense of self-worth. Vulnerable was not the best state of mind to be in when going on a blind date!

Adam allowed his mind to drift back to that fateful night. He usually avoided thinking too much about it, because whenever he did the embarrassment always felt dreadfully fresh. Their mutual friend Mark had set them up. He’d really pushed Adam to go out with Jake, telling him what an incredibly hot man the detective was and what a good heart he had, that he was a monogamy kind of guy, not a player and blah, blah, blah. Adam had been intrigued but worried about his own level of readiness. Mark had used some very persuasive skills, also known as nagging, to convince Adam.

* * * *

Adam was overwhelmed with lust when he got his first view of Jake in the restaurant’s bar. Mark had underplayed exactly how gorgeous the man was. The detective was wearing Adam’s favorite combination of colors on a man—tight black shirt and blue jeans that looked like they’d been painted on. Not only did the shirt caress every muscle of Jake’s amazing torso as it stretched to contain what appeared to be muscles on top of muscles, but it also highlighted his intense azure blue eyes. Jake’s skin looked permanently tanned and his dark brown hair was cropped short, accenting his strong features and sensuous lips. The cleft in the chin was almost too much, causing Adam to instantly start drawing comparisons to comic book superheroes.

Unfortunately, Adam’s lust removed all rational thinking from his brain. Their initial conversation was innocuous, the usual polite pleasantries about the weather and employment. From there, the conversation drifted into areas that Adam always tried to avoid. Jake started asking about his background, and the more Adam tried to be evasive the more pointed Jake’s questions became.

Adam involuntarily flinched at Jake’s final question. “Look, I know I recognize you. You ever done a perp walk? I never forget a criminal’s face!”

The moment Adam dreaded the most had arrived. He so wasn’t ready to come clean about his history as Adam, the Sole Survivor. He was so caught off guard by the turn of the conversation, he couldn’t think of how to get out of the situation and redirect the topic to something safer. He couldn’t even make eye contact, could only stare down at the table as the overwhelming feelings of being deeply tainted and unworthy of being alive washed over him while he told Jake that he’d been abducted and held captive by George Gary Smith, the serial killer who had gruesomely slaughtered seven people.

* * * *

“Time’s up, boy!” George Gary Smith hissed as he approached. “S’time for love.”

It was Adam’s turn to be taken from his cage one final time, to be strapped down and tortured on the “pleasure table,” as the creature had called it. Adam had known what was coming as he’d already watched the seven before him undergo the torments of George Gary Smith’s sick, twisted, and sadistic lusts before they died. Adam gripped the bars of the cage as George Gary Smith attempted to wrench him out. The monster giggled like it was all a game.

“Knew you were special. You’re gonna be fun; s’why I saved you for last. Gonna take my time and enjoy your sweet screams.”

He released Adam’s legs and walked over to the toolbox next to the table and withdrew a pair of pliers. He grinned at Adam, “Someone needs their nails ripped out,” he sang happily.

Adam was hysterically pleading and bargaining when the police burst in and shot George Gary Smith.

* * * *

Back in the restaurant, Adam reminded Jake that as morally reprehensible as it was, the picture of him being helped from his cage had been on the front page of all the world’s newspapers alongside a pre-horror picture taken at a friend’s wedding.

“Apparently the public’s insatiable appetite for horror trumped respect, privacy, and decency.” Adam could feel his skin burning and his head throbbing as he went on to detail the publicly known events to Jake. His voice sounded increasingly tinny and distant as he continued to talk.

When Adam finally finished and looked up, the horror and disgust he saw in Jake’s eyes devastated him. The eyes reflected back to Adam what he was feeling about himself, that he was dirty, tainted, diseased beyond all hope.

Jake turned. “s**t! I need another drink. NOW!” he yelled to a passing waitress.

Overcome with self-revulsion, Adam jumped up to flee the restaurant. Instead, he bumped into the waitress who was carrying a full tray of cocktails. The impact spilled the drinks over numerous patrons, including Jake. Adam’s feet became tangled, and as he fell, he instinctively reached out to steady himself, accidentally yanking a bystander’s pants down. The poor man hadn’t been wearing any underwear. He could see angry faces and mouths moving, but no sound reached Adam’s ears. His vision telescoped so that it seemed he was seeing everything from a great distance yet also an up close and minute tableaux of pantomimed chaos.

The next thing Adam knew, he was running down the street, several blocks from the restaurant, and what had seemed like a silent movie, suddenly gained a soundtrack of a cacophony of New York City sounds.

* * * *

In his office, Adam realized he’d zoned out and had emptied his paper clip holder of its contents and was arranging them into patterns on his desk.

For several days after the date from hell, Adam had obsessively replayed the events of that night, realizing with deep shame and embarrassment that he’d acted like an i***t. He’d set himself up by feeling so vulnerable beforehand. Adam had known Jake was a detective with the NYPD. He’d let Jake control the conversation, and instead of just clearly and politely stating he didn’t want to talk about certain things on a first date—or ever!—he’d tried to be evasive.

As Adam’s paper clip picture began to resemble a wave on the ocean, he realized evading the questions of a detective was like pouring blood into shark-infested waters. Maybe the paper clips more closely resembled a shark’s fin.

A detective would be able to smell evasion a mile away. The resulting feeding frenzy could have been avoided if only Adam had been more lucid and reasoned. Instead of acting like a rational adult and defusing the situation, he’d played into the drama. He’d forgotten who he was and had accepted the old thoughts about being a horrible person because of the past. It had been like he’d thrown everything that he’d ever learned about himself out the window and had gone on this blind date with a giant flashing neon sign over his head proclaiming Victim! That wasn’t who he was—not any more. It certainly wasn’t who he’d worked several long years to heal.

* * * *

Jake stood before the office door, a little surprised at the nervous battle his stomach was engaged in. He took in a deep breath and reminded himself he was a hardened detective who regularly faced down gangbangers and thugs. He worked the streets of New York for God’s sake! This was just some guy he’d gone on a date with several months ago. Why should he let a good-looking guy make him so nervous?

Perhaps because you treated him like s**t and acted like a jackass! his brain cruelly reminded him.

Yeah, there’s that, Jake conceded. He’d always prided himself on taking care of the underdog, of helping the vulnerable. Yet he’d interrogated his date, accused him of being a criminal, and forced Adam to talk about an event beyond most people’s comprehension. When he’d heard Adam’s background, he’d felt so ashamed and horrified at his boorish behavior that he couldn’t stand to look the man in the eye. Instead he’d turned his back on him, calling for a drink. Jake didn’t blame Adam for taking off, and he’d certainly deserved having a tray of drinks dropped on him.

Their mutual friend Mark had been livid. “I trusted you to be a gentleman with him!” Mark had raged. “I trusted you! How the f**k could you have done that?”

Jake shook his head. Time to face the music and apologize. Well, here goes nothing.

He knocked a little too loudly and heard a muffled reply inviting him in. As Jake entered, he saw Adam sweep a group of paper clips into his palm and pour them into a jar. He looked up from his desk and smiled; the smile almost reached his eyes but not quite. Jake noticed the moisture on Adam’s cheeks, the slightly creased forehead, and the perspiration mark when Adam removed his hands from the desk. What did he have to be nervous about? I’m the i***t who f****d up.

“Hi. How can I help you?”

Jake panicked. “You…uh…said you could help…my head…”

“Sorry, I know. That was just reflex. Of course, your headache.” Adam seemed flustered. “Have a seat. Let me see if I can help with your pain.”

Jake didn’t miss the slight tremble in Adam’s voice and the spreading sweat marks beneath his arms. Even a nervous wreck, Adam was still one of the sexiest men Jake had laid eyes on.

Jake sat in the proffered seat, his own nervousness abating slightly in the face of Adam’s.

“So, were you able to get things sorted out downstairs? Miguel okay?”

“Yeah, I soothed his ruffled feathers. Sent the other guy home.”

Adam walked around his desk and stood beside Jake, that tantalizing Adam-aroma playing havoc with Jake’s libido.

“I’m glad. Thanks for being there.”

Jake jerked as he felt Adam’s soft hands start to massage his neck.

“Wait, I thought you’d just give me an aspirin or something.”

Adam gasped softly. “Oh. Sorry. I said I had techniques, not medicine. If you don’t want—”

“No, no that’s cool. Just caught me a little off guard.”

Jake relaxed into Adam’s hands as they, more tentatively this time, resumed massaging. Within moments, the pressure increased and the tensed muscles started responding.

“Press the spot between your thumb and finger on your left hand.”

“Huh?”

“That fleshy part between them.” Adam stopped massaging and reached down and grasped Jake’s left hand between the thumb and fingers. “Here.”

“Ow!” The spot was really sensitive.

“That’s an acupressure point in Chinese medicine; it’s called ‘The Master Eliminator.’ Helps release pent-up tension. Just keep pressing it.”

Jake did as he was told.

Adam resumed kneading the muscles in Jake’s neck. Then he started massaging the scalp, running his fingers back and forth over Jake’s entire head, and ending at his temples. With gentle circles, Adam caressed the area.

Indeed, Jake could feel the pressure in his head lessening, but not the guilt in his heart.

“Um, Adam…”

“Too much pressure?”

“No! That feels really good. It’s just. Well…I’ve been meaning to call and…well…”

Adam’s hands stopped massaging. The air felt heavy, and the room seemed to get smaller. Jake heard Adam let out a sigh. Adam’s hand kind of caressed Jake’s shoulder as it trailed off him as Adam walked back around to the chair behind the desk. Jake watched as Adam’s eyes lowered to look at the desk.

“Look, Detective. Let’s not talk about it. I completely embarrassed myself and acted like an i***t. I’m sorry.”

“Yes! What? No! I mean…”

“Please, Detective? Let’s not. I know my background can really disgust people. You’re not the first to be sickened by the idea of touching me.”

“What? No!”

“I saw it in your eyes. You were disgusted. Believe me, I totally understand. I’ve felt the same about myself.”

“What are you talking—”

“But let me be really clear. I’m not that way anymore. I am not a victim. I survived. I am proud of myself. I can’t change the past, but it no longer defines who I am! And anyone that doesn’t like it can go f**k themselves!”

“Adam!” Jake watched Adam’s eyes look up from the desk where they had studiously been focused and connect with his own. “If you start singing a big anthem I’m out of here.”

Jake watched as Adam’s serious expression softened and a smile started spreading across his face.

“What if I just hum a few bars?”

They laughed, and Jake released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, grateful for the relief.

“Look, I seriously don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I think you are one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

As he watched Adam lower his eyes again, Jake realized the man didn’t seem comfortable with compliments. How could that be? he thought. The man’s gorgeous!

“Adam. Look at me, please.” As he held Adam’s gaze with his own, Jake said, “I really don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m the one who needs to apologize, and I should have done so a long time ago. But I was too much of a putz!”

“No, it was my—”

“Adam. Please just listen. Can you do that for me?”

Adam nodded his consent.

Jake reminded himself to beware of using his police voice. He looked into Adam’s beautiful, liquid brown eyes and saw them filled with emotion. Jake’s guilt felt like a few extra pounds had been added to an already heavy weight on his heart.

“I had no right to treat you the way I did. I interrogated you and accused you of things, when I had absolutely no right. All I can say is that I was in a really bad place. I’d just come out of a relationship with a guy who turned out to be a pathological liar and cheater. And when you started being evasive…I don’t know…it was like a switch was flipped, and all the lies my ex had told me started crowding my head, and I thought you were…I don’t know…and then when I realized who you were and why I recognized you and what you had gone through and why you were trying to avoid my questions and…well, s**t, I felt so f*****g horrible. If you saw disgust in my eyes it was directed solely at myself! I am so sorry, Adam. Can you ever forgive me?”

Jake watched as a hundred different emotions flickered across Adam’s face. Silently Adam stood up and walked around the desk toward Jake. He sat on the edge of the desk and crossed his legs. Jake tried not to stare at Adam’s prominent bulge, but failed miserably. Quickly, he looked up into Adam’s handsome face.

Adam looked at Jake for a moment.

“God bless America, land of the free!” he sang in a huge vibrato, a Kate Smith impersonation.

They both started chuckling, which grew into full-on laughter. The more they laughed, the more they laughed, until finally they had tears streaming down their faces. Jake knew the laughter was more about relief and letting go of the past than finding anything that humorous. Whatever the reason, the laughter had helped lighten the weight on his heart.

“We’re just a couple of idiots aren’t we?” said Adam as he wiped his eyes. “So caught up in our own bullshit that we totally screwed things up.”

“I really would like to get to know you, Adam. Would you consider giving me a second chance?”

“Huh?”

“Would you go out with me?”

“Detective O’Malley, it would be my pleasure.”

“Cool!” Adam’s smile lit the smoldering fires within Jake. “You free this Friday?”

“Yep. Time and place?”

“Seven. How ‘bout I pick you up at your place?”

“Great. Let me write down my address.” Adam turned around and bent over his desk to grab a pen and write on a card.

Jake moaned at seeing Adam displayed before him like this. God! I could take him right here, bent over the desk, show him exactly how beautiful I think he is! Jake lightly slapped Adam’s ass. “Don’t put this in front of me unless you want me doing something with it!”

Adam blushed as he looked back. “Why thank you, Detective, may I have another?”

“Oh, yeah!” laughed Jake as he swatted Adam again.

Adam turned around and handed Jake his card on which he had neatly printed his address.

“Will I need a suit for this date or something more casual?”

“Let’s keep it fun and casual. Good for you?”

“Absolutely.”

Jake rose to leave.

“Detective, what about your headache?”

“All better.”

“I didn’t really do anything.”

“You’ve helped more than you know. I should be getting back to the station. Thank you, Adam.”

“Thank you, Detective.”

“Jake.”

Adam smiled. “Jake.”