After the debacle in Wagner’s class, the rest of Theo’s day had been smooth sailing. He went to Downing, saw Lana, and made it back in time for class. He was taking a class on Renaissance lyric poetry and another class on the Victorian novel; the Victorian class was a required one, which meant reading a lot of ‘greatest hits’ along with a generous helping of Matthew Arnold. When classes were over, Theo held his office hour—nobody came, which he assumed was partly because it was the first week and partly because he was only a teaching assistant—and then biked home a little before five.
Cart’s truck was in the driveway, and Theo did some mental juggling as he coasted to a stop. The day was hot, the air thick with humidity, and the chickweed and dandelions in Theo’s front lawn were growing rampant in what was for them perfect conditions. The summer perfume of charcoal and searing meat floated to him from the back of the house. Theo wiped sweat from his face, dismounted, and adjusted his satchel. He walked the bike down the driveway and locked it up in the (now mostly empty and clean) garage.
Cart was standing at the grill. He was wearing a Cardinals shirt and jersey shorts and slides, which meant he’d had time to go home and change after his shift, and he was swearing under his breath and rubbing his head as he bent over the grill, considering something.
“You’re going to burn your eyebrows off,” Theo said. “I’d say you’ll burn your hair off too, but you don’t have enough for that.”
“I’ll still be better looking than a sorry-ass motherfucker who gets the fifteen-dollar wash and set at the Beauty Barn. How do you like your steak?”
“Medium-rare,” Theo said, leaning against the deck’s railing. “And I don’t get the wash and set. I just cut the ends off with some kitchen scissors every couple of months.”
“You’re not getting medium-rare. Sorry.”
Theo pushed his hair behind his ears.
“You can’t stare at the steaks forever, Cart. You’re going to have to look at me sometime.”
“No, I brought sunglasses. I’m going to put them on and just stare at the wallpaper. You won’t even be able to tell.”
A robin fluttered onto the branch of an oak tree at the edge of the property. It checked itself with its beak, and then its little head swiveled before it burst into flight again.
“I cannot believe I burned these fucking steaks. I can’t even goddamn believe it. I am one miserable, sorry, dumbass country motherfucker if I can’t even grill up a decent steak. I brought some of that cabernet you like, and I brought real plates and real silver, and I even brought a tablecloth.”
“What is a redneck son of a bitch like you doing with a tablecloth?”
“Fuck if I know,” Cart said, still bent over the grill and poking one of the steaks with a pair of tongs.
“Cart?”
“I didn’t burn the green beans. That’s something, right? They’re in the oven with bacon and those little almond slivers.” Cart almost looked up then, catching himself at the last minute, as he mumbled, “I bought them at the Piggly Wiggly.”
“Cart.”
“And I got you some of that fudge cake from the Family Bakery. I think you like that, right?”
“Ok,” Theo said. “Apparently we’re doing this the hard way. Stand your ass up straight and look at me.”
It took a minute, but Cart complied. His eyes kept darting away, and he must have forgotten he was holding the tongs because he tried to shove his hands in his pockets and then started swearing under his breath and scrubbing at the smear of char they left on his shorts.
“Full attention, please.”
“I’m listening.”
“Eyes and ears, Cart.”
It took another full minute.
“I’m sorry I got so upset when you didn’t text me,” Theo said. “And I’m sorry I made a comment about how much of your personal life you share with your coworkers. Just so you know, it’s really upsetting when you don’t communicate with me. I understand that you get busy, but I need the occasional check-in. I feel really uncertain about things with you because, frankly, I’m scared shitless and sometimes I feel really, really guilty. About Ian. When you don’t respond to my messages, my brain goes into overdrive with that kind of stuff.”
“Yeah, well, I’m sorry too.”
“You’ve got to do better than that.”
“Well, I’m sorry, motherfucker. What do you want me to say?” That huge shit-eating grin broke out on Cart’s face for an instant. “That didn’t really sound like an apology, did it?”
“Not even close.”
“Look, I know I’m a dumb son of a bitch. I know I’m lucky a guy like you would even consider, you know, a guy like me. I know I fuck things up every time I turn around.” He rubbed his buzzed head. “I don’t know what to tell you. I’m a miserable, stupid, fucked-up hoosier motherfucker, and I wish I treated you better. My brain is fucked every way from Sunday. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”
The robin had settled on a sweetgum tree farther down the line. The sun was huge and low in the sky, not quite sunset yet, but the shadows were long. Cart’s gaze dropped to the deck, and then he looked up for a moment, an uncertain smile playing across his face.
“So what are we going to do differently?” Theo said.
“I can’t promise I’m not going to get mad. I’m stupid as fuck, and I’ve got a temper.”
“You’re not stupid. Quit saying stuff like that.”
“Well, I know I’m not as smart as you.”
“I said quit it.”
“I won’t ignore you. I can’t promise I won’t get mad, but I promise I won’t ignore you again.”
“Ok. And I won’t make comments about things that aren’t my business.”
Cart gave another of those uncertain smiles.
“But I have to say one thing,” Theo said. “You know that whatever this is, Cart, if it’s going to keep growing, it can’t be a secret forever.”
He scuffed one of the slides across the deck. “I know.”
“I won’t live like that.”
“I said I know. Christ, is all that hair messing with your hearing? I ought to chop it off right now. Get me a knife and get over here.”
“You are a fucking barbarian. You realize that?”
“Course.”
“And you’re shit at the grill. From now on, I’m grilling.”
“Course.”
“Then get the fuck inside and take your shorts off.”
Cart blasted him with that crazy-ass grin and ran inside.
After, when they were curled up together on the floor, Theo grunted and squirmed, trying to find a position where the boards weren’t quite as painful on his back, resting his head on Cart’s chest. “Do you have even an ounce of body fat? Jesus, you’re almost as uncomfortable as the floor.”
One of Cart’s hands came up to stroke lazily through Theo’s hair. He was making a quiet, rumbling noise in his chest. “I’ve never been so happy as I am with you.”
Theo found Cart’s arm, rubbed it lightly.
“Don’t even know what the fuck I’ve been doing the rest of my life. Like you’re the first thing that come into it that made any sense.” He took a deep breath, his chest heaving under Theo’s head, and his voice was tight when he said, “And Jesus fucking Christ, I feel like you’re a million times too good for me and you’re going to wake up one day and figure it out.”
Rolling onto his stomach, his chin on Cart’s ribs, Theo just stared at him.
“I’m going to, you know, tell people,” Cart whispered. His fingers were still running through Theo’s hair. “I ain’t so fucking stupid I’ll let you get off the hook. Not if I can help it.”
“You’re stupid enough to say ain’t.”
“That’s cause I’m a goddamn redneck. Come here and kiss me.”
Theo swatted his belly and said, “Let me brush my teeth.”
“No, just—” Cart swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Just kiss me.”
So Theo kissed him.
“I can taste it,” Cart said.
“And what about me, dumbass?”
“I didn’t say it was bad, I just said—aww, fuck.” And then he pulled Theo down and kissed him again. “Maybe next time, I could . . .” He cupped Theo’s dick.
“If you want,” Theo said. “But only if you want.” Then he swatted his belly again. “Now let’s eat those charcoal bricks you call steaks.”
The steaks weren’t actually that bad, and the green beans from the Piggly Wiggly were surprisingly good. They talked about their days, and they talked about the demonstrations, and Cart explained the cut scabbing on his shoulder where someone had caught him with a sharp-edged rock. They both relaxed with the wine and the food, but the best part of the meal, by far, was the fudge cake from the Wahredua Family Bakery. Theo had a second slice, flipping Cart the bird when Cart started to laugh.
“So what’s going on with Cal’s death?” Theo asked as he scraped his spoon across the plate, gathering the last of the fudge. “If you want to talk about it.”
Cart hesitated. “I don’t know if I should say anything.”
“Ok.”
“Because you and that kid found him.”
“You know his name.”
“I just don’t think I should say anything.”
“I said ok.”
“I’m not trying to pick a fight. It’s just cause they might want to talk to you and that kid again.”
“If you don’t feel like you can talk about it, that’s fine. We’re not going to fight about that. But if you keep pretending you don’t know Auggie’s name, we’re going to have a fight. A real one. Do you understand me?”
Cart made a face.
“Well?”
“I heard you.”
Then Theo did something, and he didn’t like himself for doing it. Picking up both their plates, he carried them to the sink and ran the water. “Has Upchurch talked any more about retirement?”
“No.”
“I still think you should go up for detective when he does.”
“He’s not retiring anytime soon.”
“He’s got to be close to twenty years,” Theo said. “You never know. Guys get their pension and then they take another job. He could go anytime.”
“Maybe.”
Theo grabbed a sponge and ran it over the plates; the dishwasher was on the fritz, so for the time being, he was washing everything by hand.
“It’s just so fucking frustrating,” Cart said. “You wouldn’t believe the kind of sloppy work they’re doing on this investigation. I mean, he’s been dead for over a week. Blunt force trauma to the head. He’s lying in the grass at the rest stop, but his car’s not there. He’s supposed to be there to buy drugs, but why the hell he has to drive all the way out there, nobody can say. Tell me how that adds up to a drug deal gone bad.”
“That’s what Lender’s saying?”
Cart grunted.
“What about Swinney?” Theo asked.
“She doesn’t like it, but she’s not going to contradict him in front of the patrol officers.” Theo heard more wine being poured, and when he looked over his shoulder, Cart was taking big drinks. He wiped his mouth when he finished and said, “I mean, do some fucking policework. He was wearing mismatched socks, for Christ’s sake. His car’s thirty miles away. Someone killed him, dressed him, and dragged him out there.”
“Maybe he just put on the wrong socks.”
“Nope. We talked to a woman—the chief sent me and Peterson out there, to the apartment. She said she’d seen him standing outside, waiting for someone. She was sure he was barefoot. She said she thought he was going to burn his feet on account of the day was so hot.”
Theo thought about Vicki Miller, who had told him about Cal waiting outside, and he decided he’d call her and see if she was the same woman who remembered seeing Cal barefoot.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Theo said. “You’d make a great detective. You’re already doing better work than Lender and Swinney.”
Cart made a disgusted noise.
“You are.”
“You’ve got to have a degree to be a detective.”
“So get a degree.”
Cart made the same noise again.
“Why not? If you’re right about Upchurch and he’s not going to retire anytime soon, you’ve got time. You’re plenty smart. If you need help, I’ll do my best unless it’s math.”
“I’m not going back to school.”
“Why not?”
Cart threw back the rest of the glass of wine. That crazy grin broke out across his face again. “Come here,” he said, “and let me show you what I do to pretty long-haired boys with too much book learning.”