Theo spent two days in the county jail before a lawyer named Aniya Thompson bailed him out. The first day was bad. His hands hurt from the punches he’d landed, and the nurse wouldn’t give him anything stronger than Tylenol. He kept seeing flashes of the fight: the punch connecting with Auggie’s head; that drunken half-step; Auggie on the ground; the blizzard that had whited out his vision. Not since Luke, he would think to himself in sudden bursts of clarity. Not since Luke had he done anything like that, felt anything like that. And in other moments, with a vividness that made his guts twist, he would count all the pills he knew he still had stashed around the house. He would walk himself through each room: four behind that electrical outlet; one inside that burned-out lightbulb; a strip of Scotch tape with six where the jamb was loose. It was better than going to the movies.
The year before, Theo had visited an inmate at the Dore County Correctional Center with Auggie. Before coming into the building, as they’d sat in the Malibu, Theo had kissed Auggie. He’d done it for a lot of reasons: because he wanted to, because he’d been thinking about it for months, but mostly to make a point. Whatever the point had been, Theo had forgotten it, but he remembered the kiss. Remembered the softness of that expressive mouth under his own lips. Remembered Auggie’s owlish eyes after.
Thompson was wide-hipped and generously built, her hair in beaded braids. In her suit, she looked so fresh she might have just snagged her diploma from the dean and hustled off to take her first case. She waited while Theo collected his belongings.
“Who hired you?”
“Sorry. Client confidentiality.”
“It wasn’t my parents,” Theo said. “And it wasn’t my brothers. So who was it?”
“Mr. Stratford, I’ve got other things to do. I want to get you home, talk about options, and move on.”
“If it was Auggie, you can tell me. I won’t let him know.”
She put her hands on her hips. She looked like she was three seconds away from tapping her foot.
“Fine,” Theo said as he pulled on his coat. “I’ll figure it out.”
On the drive back, she said, “The Reese family isn’t pressing charges for the breaking and entering or the attempted burglary.”
“Nice of them, since I wasn’t attempting anything.”
“Regardless of what Wayne Reese decides in terms of civil action, I’m pretty sure the County Attorney will be moving forward with assault charges. She’ll start with second-degree, which is a felony, but if you’ll keep your mouth shut and let me do my best, I think we can get it down to fourth-degree, which is a whisker over the line into misdemeanor. Your boyfriend had been attacked and rendered unconscious. Normally, it’d be a pretty clear case of self-defense, but the damage you did . . .” She shook her head. “The county’s going to have a lot of fun with pictures of him in the hospital. People won’t be able to tell it’s Wayne Reese, that’s how bad it is. Tell me what happened.”
“I’ve already told everyone what happened.”
“Get used to it. You’re going to tell me a hundred times if I ask you to, so start talking.”
Theo worked his jaw. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Well, you’d better tell me about that too.”
Theo sketched out the events that had taken place from the moment Wayne walked into the house. Thompson asked questions. He ignored them. They drove the last ten minutes in silence.
“Think about what you want,” Thompson said when she dropped him at his house. “But if you dig in your heels now and then decide you want my help after they’ve got you in county again, my rates are double.”
Mumbling thanks, Theo got out of the car. He went inside, locked the door behind him, and went to the bathroom. He took down the shower curtain rod, held it at an angle, and rocked it back and forth until the plastic baggie slid free. He took two of the pills, replaced the bag, and returned the shower rod to its mounting. After dry swallowing, he leaned against the sink, his back to the mirror. He considered the floor, where he’d left a trail of muddy shoeprints and snowmelt. This isn’t normal, a part of his brain told him. Normal people aren’t in such a hurry that they can’t take off their shoes, can’t even wipe their feet before they get their fix. He pulled the towel from the rod and mopped up his trail, and then he toed off his boots near the door. He was vaguely aware that the furnace had turned on, the pills had kicked in, and he was flushed and sweating. Stripping out of his clothes, he stumbled to the couch, lay down, and fell asleep.
Knocking woke him.
Everything had balanced out by then, the slight cloudiness in his thinking just enough. Wrapping a blanket around his shoulders, he made his way to the door. Brown eyes, he thought. Mouth shifting nervously from grin to worry and back to grin. He’ll be tangled in his scarf, and I’ll have to help him out of it.
When he opened the door, Orlando was standing there. The January air—no, February, it was February now—stung Theo’s bare chest and legs. He adjusted the blanket. Orlando was wearing a coat and heavy gloves. His hands opened and closed, and the boards squeaked as he shifted his weight.
“If you’re going to deck me, deck me. If not, I’m freezing my balls off.”
“Stay away from my family.”
“Fine.”
“And tell Augs too. I don’t want to see either of you around my family ever again.” Orlando’s thick eyebrows drew together; he looked on the verge of crying. “Just stay the fuck away!”
“Is that all?”
“Wayne admitted to the kickbacks. His whole life is ruined, thanks a lot. And it’s my fault.”
“It’s not your fault. It’s his fault. Your family is just going to treat you like shit because it makes the rest of them feel better.”
“I shouldn’t have ever asked you and Augs to help. I never should have done that. I’m so fucking stupid.”
The wind whistled through the open door. Theo’s face was freezing by inches. He angled his body and said, “Why don’t you come in?”
“No.”
“I think you need to talk to someone.”
“No!”
They stood there, Theo’s skin pebbling, Orlando huffing. His breath was still steaming, whipping around him in the wind. On the other side of the road, something small and brown moved through the weeds. A vole, Theo thought. He had the sudden urge to find the .22 downstairs and shoot it.
“He didn’t do anything to Cal. He turned over his cell phone records. He was at the basketball expo that whole weekend. He never left the hotel. Same with Nia getting shot. He was out of town. So it’s over. I wanted you to know that: it’s done.”
“Ok. Like you said, it’s done. But you’re not the one who needs to carry this around, Orlando. You don’t need to feel bad for what happened.”
Orlando’s face screwed up. He shook his head.
“Come on,” Theo said, “just come inside for a minute.”
When he touched Orlando’s shoulder, Orlando punched him. It wasn’t much of a punch, just enough to split Theo’s lip. He caught the blood with the back of his hand.
“Fuck you,” Orlando said. He ran down the stairs, climbed into a slate-gray BMW, and pulled away. The tires slewed at the turn. For a moment, it looked like he’d go off the road. Then, somehow, he recovered, and the car roared out of sight.
Theo was in the bathroom, trying to stop the bleeding with a gauze pad, when he heard the back door open. The sound of heavy boots came across the kitchen. In the mirror, Cart was a backwards version of himself. It was more noticeable with the uniform, the badge and gun, everything reversed.
“Good. Somebody already got things started. I was worried I was going to have to beat some fucking sense into your white-trash brain all by myself.”
After a quick glance at the blood-soaked gauze, Theo tossed it in the trash and grabbed a clean pad.
“Give me that.” Cart grabbed his hair, turning him, and snatched the gauze.
“Ow,” Theo said mildly, tossing his head to try to loosen Cart’s grip.
If anything, Cart pulled harder. His fingers clamped the gauze down around Theo’s lip. “What the fuck do you know about getting hurt? What the fuck do you know about anything?” He yanked on Theo’s hair again. “You stupid redneck motherfucker. I don’t even know you. Do you realize that? I have no idea who you are. Are you just some pencil-dicked pillbilly so desperate for cash that you’ll break into somebody’s house to pay for your next fix?”
With the gauze in his mouth, Theo couldn’t answer.
“Don’t you dare lie to me,” Cart said. “Don’t spin me horseshit about how you’re not using anymore. I am a stupid son of a bitch, but I am not that stupid, and I’m tired of you treating me like I am.” On the last word, Cart released Theo’s hair. He peeled the gauze away with surprising gentleness, and only a few red spots marked it.
“I wasn’t there to steal anything.”
“Jesus Christ, that’s great fucking news. So you broke into that house for shits and giggles with your boy toy?”
“Don’t call him that.”
Cart’s hand cracked against Theo’s bare chest. The slap only stung for an instant, and then the sensation was of tremendous heat. Theo glanced down, unable to believe what had just happened. When he looked up, Cart was crying.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Cart said. “What the fuck is going on? Do you know what the last two days have been like for me? I couldn’t see you, couldn’t talk to you, couldn’t think straight. Had no idea how bad things might be. Do you know the kind of hell that is?”
“You could have come seen me. You could have answered your phone. Instead, you hid behind a lawyer.”
Cart’s breathing deepened. His gaze moved to Theo’s chest.
Theo followed his eyes. The handprint was red, its shape clear against Theo’s pale skin.
“I’m sorry,” Theo said, part of him wondering why he was the one who said it.
Cart undid his belt and holster, lowered the gear to the tiles, and unbuttoned his trousers. “Get on the floor.”
Theo crossed his arms. In his boxers, though, it was impossible to hide that he was hard.
Grabbing a handful of Theo’s hair, Cart half-pulled, half-shoved him down. “Was there something you didn’t understand?” He released Theo long enough to force his trousers and boxers below his knees. Then he got behind Theo, bearing him down so that Theo knelt over the tub. Theo’s heart beat so loudly that he couldn’t hear anything. Cotton ripped, and his boxers fell away. He flinched when something cold and wet ran between his cheeks.
It was over for both of them before Theo really knew what was happening. He came against the side of the tub, Cart’s hand hard and tight around him, and a few minutes later Cart grunted and finished. They stayed there, Cart draped over him, their breathing out of time. Then Theo felt something hot on the back of his neck. Tears. And Cart’s mouth pressing a kiss there.
“I’m sorry,” Cart whispered. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
The aches in his hands, in his whole body, were awake again under the blanket of Percocet. Theo rested his head on his arms, the tub cold where his cheek touched it. At least I felt something, he thought. At least this time I felt something.