THERE WERE three truly awesome places to go out and party on New Year’s Eve—the Peabody rooftop, Beale Street, and Overton Square. Being a cop, Ben never got to do the partying part. It was pretty much all hands on deck. No exceptions. No excuses. Someone had to keep the bad shit from happening.
Music rang out from opened doors and opened windows, from every direction of Overton Square. Most of the noise came from Lafayette’s Music Room. The place straight-up looked just like the kind of Creole town house found in the middle of the French Quarter—complete with an iron balcony. A local radio DJ cranked out Top 40 hits from the second floor while beautiful twentysomethings gyrated beside him. People stood in tight groups on the street; some danced, some didn’t. Some drank. Some didn’t.
Ben never minded working New Year’s Eve. He wasn’t a huge partyer and not much into drinking. The whole kiss at midnight thing was totally out of the question. Working made sense. Working made him… him. And year after year, history repeated.
“As I live and breathe.”
Ben heard the voice before he found the face it came from. Silas Cooper didn’t exactly stand out in a crowd of Midtowners. But as soon as Ben saw him, a smile spread his lips. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
“Eh.” Silas waved his hand. “I live a few miles away. It was a nice walk.”
Ben frowned. “Are you alone?”
“Not anymore.”
“You shouldn’t walk around alone. At night. Not around here.”
“At least I’m not drinking and driving.”
“True.” Ben chucked softly.
They stood side by side, awkward and silent. Ben didn’t exactly know what to say. The last time they’d seen each other, Silas had figured out his big bad secret. Now Silas was the only person Ben wanted to talk to. Yet, at the same time, Ben wasn’t even sure he wanted to air all his business to anyone. Boy, did he have some shit to talk about, though. Things with Morgan were becoming… ah, what was the word? A little more serious, maybe? They weren’t seeing anyone else. Not because anyone decided or agreed not to. They just didn’t need anyone else’s company. What they were doing worked. It was easy. And Ben wanted to talk about it to the only person he could.
Just not right now.
“So, how have you been?” Silas asked, grinning up at Ben like a Cheshire cat.
Ben arched a brow as he looked Silas over. “How much have you had to drink?”
“Drinking isn’t a crime, Officer Logan.”
Ben laughed again. “No, it isn’t. And didn’t I tell you to call me Ben?”
“Oh, I do believe you did. And I said I like Benjamin better.” Silas tapped his chin. “However, I still think Officer Logan is the sexiest of the three.”
Flirting? Really? Ben did a quick check of his surroundings, moving only his eyes to make his insecurity a lot less obvious. No one noticed the writer and the cop hanging out on the edge of the road. Even as famous as Silas was, no one bombarded him for an autograph or eavesdropped on their conversation. Everyone around them was so lost in their own world and their own party, they didn’t even bat an eye in Ben and Silas’s direction.
Very good.
“It’s a shame you have no one to kiss at midnight,” Silas whispered. Though, like most drunk people, he spoke louder than he probably meant to.
Oh, but I do have someone to kiss. The true shame was not being able to enjoy New Year’s Eve with that someone. “I’m spending the holiday exactly how I want,” Ben said in lieu of complicating the conversation.
THE SILLIEST of all silly grins stretched across Silas’s face. It was the booze. Had to be. Silas didn’t do goofy or funny. However, something about Ben drew the giant kid right out of Silas. Almost like being in high school again and working through his first big crush. Silas hadn’t known then if the boy he pined over played for his team, but he knew Ben did. Oh, happy day!
Running into Ben made leaving the house on one of the worst nights of the year worth every minute of this unexpected adventure. Silas had been sitting at home, wishing—as ironic as it was—that he had someone to spend the evening with. He would’ve been happy sitting on the couch, watching the Times Square ball drop with a close friend and a few cocktails. He would’ve been fine with the kind of kissing that led to hot sex at the stroke of midnight. Neither of which was going to happen.
He hadn’t heard from Scott since early December, and though Silas didn’t exactly mourn the death of their relationship, he did—from time to time—miss having someone around to chat with when he got bored, someone to snuggle with when he got lonely. Neither was an issue prior to Scott. Now both were reasons to get up and do something, anything, that didn’t involve being alone.
“I truly am glad I left the house tonight.” Silas spoke softly, more to himself than anyone else. Oh, but Ben heard him. Silas could tell by the pitiful look that devastatingly beautiful cop gave him. Not that what he said deserved any kind of pity. Maybe it’d been the tone of his voice or something in his eyes, or the fact he hadn’t looked at Ben once since he returned to the malaise of his own mind.
“Ten. Nine. Eight….”
The countdown to the New Year pulled Silas out of his ruminating. He turned eyes on Ben, who now watched the DJ count into the mic while half-naked women danced around him.
“Three. Two. One. Happy New Year!”
“Auld Lang Syne” played over the loudspeakers. People yelled the lyrics—mostly out of key. “Should auld acquaintance be forgot….” Strangers swayed together as old friends. Some random woman hooked her arm around Silas’s, forcing him to move his body too. He didn’t want to. He wanted to watch Ben’s lips as he tried to hide his mumbling the lyrics along with everyone else’s boisterous crooning. He wanted to watch the glisten in Ben’s eyes as the moon poured soft light over the crowd. He even loved the way pieces of confetti stuck in Ben’s short brown hair. God, he was absolutely mesmerized.
When Ben caught him staring, Silas immediately turned his gaze away, even though he wanted nothing more than to give Ben a quick New Year’s smooch. He didn’t dare. It wasn’t right. Ben didn’t want that. So instead of lifting up on his toes and reaching for Ben’s cheek, he gave a tight smile, and said, “You stay safe on these wild Memphis streets, Benjamin.”
Silas turned to walk away.
“Wait, Silas.” Ben reached out and grabbed Silas’s upper arm before he could escape. The strength and heat of Ben’s grip sent a shiver down Silas’s spine. “You’re not walking, are you?”
Aww, he’s concerned. “I live right around the corner.” Silas thumbed over his shoulder. “Not literally, but close enough.”
“And there are a lot of drunk people out tonight. You have to cross Union to get home.”
“I learned to look both ways before I learned to spell my name.”
Silas’s cheeky comeback won him another warm smile from Ben.
“Please let me at least get you an Uber.”
“A what?” Silas frowned.
“Uber. It’s like a taxi.”
“Benjamin, seriously, there’s no need. I appreciate your worry, but—”
“I’m not taking no for an answer,” Ben said with finality, reaching into his pocket for what Silas assumed to be a cell phone. The device fit right in the palm of Ben’s large hand.
Mmm. Large hands. “Don’t. Please.” Silas wrapped his fingers over Ben’s. “I promise I can get home just fine.”
“You’re drunk. Anything could happen.”
“I’m only a little drunk now. Wine wears off fast.” Or something.
“Mm-hmm.” Ben pinched his lips and shook his head. “I could give you my number. You could text—”
Silas’s laughter cut off Ben’s offer.
“What’s so funny?”
“I don’t need to have your number. Your significant other will hate me.”
“I don’t think he….” Ben looked left, then right, then back to Silas. “It’ll be okay.”
“How about you give me your number when you’re not as interested in my safety as you are in me?”
Ben nodded. The movement was so slight, so curt and tense, that had Silas not been paying attention, he would’ve missed it.
With a sigh, Silas left the cop formerly known as Officer Hot Body standing on the edge of the road just beneath the balcony at Lafayette’s. The farther Silas walked away, the more invisible Ben became, until he was lost to a sea of drunken bodies.
Silas made a right onto Cooper, heading south toward Peabody, all the while wishing he’d stayed back with Ben until all the booze wore off. He still had enough of a buzz that his lips tingled and walking felt… well, weird. He stopped at the corner of Union and Cooper, watching the blur of cars speeding by. This was the spot where he needed to pay attention, be careful. The last thing that needed to happen was him turning into roadkill for the beautiful Officer Logan and company to scrape off the road. That would be a hell of a way to end a pretty decent night.
AS SOON as Silas left the field of Ben’s vision, Ben wished he’d been more adamant about seeing Silas home. A cab. An Uber. Fuck, a ride in the back of a squad car. Anything was better than watching Silas walk off. Alone. Drunk. In the middle of the damn night. Ben kept his eyes glued to the path Silas had walked, watching, waiting, wishing Silas would decide against leaving and come back.
“Yo, Logan!”
The booming voice came from the west end of Madison Avenue, the part where everyday, ordinary Midtown became musical, magical Overton Square, opposite Silas’s escape route. At first, Ben couldn’t tell who was calling his name. It could’ve been anyone. Most of the guys had the same kind of voice—bassy, booming, loud. Ben narrowed his eyes, squinting to see through the mass of people blocking his view.
Bodies parted, like the splitting of the sea, heading toward other bars and beer stands, heading toward the parking lots, heading toward God only knew what. They still wanted to party, even after the countdown ended and 2016 became the present. Ben didn’t understand it. But he’d never had a chance to do all that shit. He went from high schooler to enlisted to officer without any real break to speak of.
“Logan!”
Bailey, one of Ben’s best friends and fellow police officers, was coming right at him, Morgan and a few others in tow.
The man might as well have been a giant. No kidding. He stood a good six and a half feet tall. Easy. Hell, probably taller. With a bald head—not from shaving. He described himself as high yellow, though Ben wasn’t sure what that meant. He was a black dude—a little on the light side—but definitely black. He probably weighed three hundred pounds—and not all of it was muscle. He held one huge arm up in the air, readying himself for a high five Ben wouldn’t be able to reach. He looked goofy as shit coming across the sky with one hand up, but whatever. Bailey didn’t really give a damn. Neither did Ben.
“Where are you supposed to be, man?” Ben didn’t bother going for the high five. Their hands would never connect anyway.
“I got patrol tonight. Sucka.”
The guys behind him laughed. Even Morgan.
Ben mock laughed right along with them. “Funny. Assholes. I need a favor.” He nodded Bailey away from the others, to the patio edge of an adjoining bar. “A male, white, left on foot a few minutes ago. He’s not drunk or anything.” Liar. “He’s a friend. But he’s walking to Central Gardens alone. Can you check it out for me?”
“Sure, bro.” Bailey held up his hand, much lower this time, right at their chests. They clapped their palms together. “I’ll text you if I see him.”
“Thanks, man.”
Bailey continued on foot toward Cooper and took a right. Why the hell didn’t he go to his car?
Maybe he did. Maybe he parked on the street behind the square or in one of the parking lots. Surely Bailey had enough sense not to hoof it.
Stop worrying.
“Everything okay?” Morgan asked. His voice startled Ben.
“Um, yeah.” Ben rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m just worried about my—” His what? What was Silas Cooper to him? A friend? “Did I ever tell you about meeting Silas Cooper?”
“Who?” Morgan frowned.
“You know all those books you see around my place?”
“Yeah….”
“Well, I sorta met the guy who wrote ’em.”