Theo moved one of the coolers full of beer. It had wheels, so it was easy to roll. Then the new spot looked even worse than the old one, so he moved it back. At which point, the drain plug came loose, and ice melt leaked out onto the floor.
“Shit,” Theo said, glancing around. He grabbed a wad of napkins from a table loaded with appetizers and finger foods, and then he shoved the plug back into place and mopped up the water.
“Everything ok?” John-Henry Somerset asked from behind him.
John-Henry had been one of the few people Theo had considered calling when he had decided to go along with Auggie’s plan. In theory, the idea that another of Cart’s friends could host a surprise party was a solid one. And although Theo knew there were risks involved in forcing Cart to do something in public with him, he also felt like it might be the only way to get Cart to make the jump. The problem, of course, was that Ian’s and Cart’s shared friends all tended to come from the Wahredua PD, and while those men and women had been pleasant enough to Theo while Ian had been alive, they’d all vanished from his life after the accident. Cart was the exception, for obvious reasons. John-Henry, however, was everybody’s friend; the proof was that he hadn’t asked any questions when Theo had pitched his idea. He’d even offered his house before Theo could find a polite way to ask.
“Fine,” Theo said. “Sorry. I think I messed up the floor.”
A soft laugh announced Cora’s entrance. John-Henry’s wife was beautiful: tall, pale, her dark hair artfully curled. Slipping her arm through John-Henry’s, she rested her cheek against his shoulder and said, “You can’t mess up the floor, Theo. This house is tiny and ancient, but it’s apparently indestructible.”
“If you ask the guy learning how to mix cement and reinforce rotting joists,” John-Henry said drily, pausing to take a drink of the Bud Lite he held, “you might get a different opinion.”
“Do you want me to grab a towel?” Theo asked.
“It’s fine,” John-Henry said. “Relax. Take a breath. This is going to be fun.”
And it would be fun, Theo reminded himself as he got to his feet. He glanced around the Somersets’ small home. Cora had helped him hang the birthday banners, and John-Henry had moved the furniture to open up enough space for people to mingle. Most of the food and drink, Theo had brought himself, but the Somersets had contributed beer and tequila.
Over the course of the next half hour, guests began to arrive. Since John-Henry had been the one to organize things, they focused their attention on him and Cora. A few of the off-duty patrol officers stopped to talk to Theo, but their conversations were short and stilted. Theo wasn’t sure what they saw when they looked at him. Ian, dead? Lana, disabled? A man with the broken pieces of his life lying at his feet?
When Auggie and Dylan arrived, Theo took a controlled breath. Things were going to be fine. Dylan got a beer. Auggie grabbed one too, but before Theo had to do anything, John-Henry had crossed the room and was talking to the younger men. Auggie nodded and smiled and chatted and put the beer back as discreetly as he could.
“This is going to be great,” Auggie said when he and Dylan joined Theo.
Dylan, holding a brown-glass Goose Island, already looked bored out of his mind and was making no effort to hide it.
Before Theo had to answer, John-Henry called out, “Five minutes, people.”
The lights went off. The party settled into an awkward stillness that made Theo’s heart pound. A few people whispered. One man laughed too loudly.
“Don’t you want to move up to the front of the room?” Auggie asked in a whisper.
Theo shook his head, then realized it was too dark for Auggie to see. “No.”
He thought his voice had been under control, but after a moment, a hand found his in the darkness and squeezed once. To his own surprise, Theo squeezed back. Sweat soaked the back of his shirt. He was starting to realize he’d made a terrible mistake.
The knock at the door made Theo jump. John-Henry’s footsteps crossed the room, and then the door swung open. Light from the porch spilled into the house, and Theo blinked as his vision adjusted. His stomach twisted and made a dangerous noise. Auggie squeezed his hand again.
“Cora’s got a migraine,” John-Henry was saying, “sorry about the lights. Come in. I’ll grab those papers, and you can—”
When Cart stepped inside, the lights sprang on, and everyone shouted, “Surprise!”
And he was definitely surprised. His mouth made an O, and he scrubbed one hand over the bristles on his head, turning back and forth to gape at the people packing the house. Then everyone seemed to start talking at once: John-Henry clapping Cart on the shoulder, bending down to speak into his ear, friends surging forward to congratulate Cart, one of the younger officers, Moraes, shouting to ask what kind of beer Cart wanted. For a moment, Cart’s eyes found Theo’s in the crowd, and terror paralyzed Theo. Then, his face heating, Theo gave a tiny shrug.
Thank you, Cart mouthed.
After that, the party was perfect. People ate. People drank. At the beginning, Cart had to make the rounds, a beer in one hand as he thanked people for coming. Before too long, though, he had found his way to Theo’s side. Theo kept things casual: no kissing, no holding hands, nothing that might take this beyond what Cart wanted. They settled for a one-armed hug; Cart’s body was tight with tension, but when they separated, he just laughed and drank deeply from the Goose Island he was carrying. Pretty soon Auggie and Dylan were back—Auggie had a beer, which he immediately handed off to Dylan when John-Henry and Cora got near.
Groups formed and dissolved. Cart was there, and then he wasn’t. This could work, Theo thought, something bright unfurling in his chest. Baby steps like this. Friends in public. And then, one day, when Cart was ready, more than friends.
“You’re a good friend,” John-Henry said, slinging an arm around Theo. His breath smelled like tequila, and Theo was mildly surprised to see that John-Henry was well on his way to being trashed. “You’re a really good friend, you know that?”
Auggie and Dylan were standing in the corner. Dylan was frowning, shaking his head, and then he gestured once at the door with his beer. Auggie was trying to say something.
“We’ve got to find you a good guy,” John-Henry said. “You know what? We’ve got to find you a great guy.”
“Ok, honey,” Cora said, touching John-Henry’s arm. “Theo’s doing just fine, I think.”
“No, no, no. I’m serious.” John-Henry steadied himself. “I’m serious, Cora. Theo’s an awesome guy, and we—” He paused. “We’ve got to find him an awesome guy.”
“I think I’m all right for now,” Theo said.
“Not a cop this time, though.” John-Henry leaned against Cora, bussing her cheek. “Right, Cora? Remind him what a pain being married to a cop is.”
“Why don’t you let me take that?” Cora said.
John-Henry moved the beer out of her reach.
“I think we’re going to go,” Auggie said. Dylan stood a few feet behind him, draining a bottle of Goose Island. “I hope you guys have fun.”
In a quiet voice, Theo said, “Thanks for this. For the idea, I mean. You were right: it’s perfect.”
For a moment, Auggie was aglow, his whole face bright, a hint of a flush in his cheeks as he bit his lip. “Yeah,” he said. “Cool. Night, Theo. Night, Detective Somerset.”
“John-Henry, Auggie. Just John-Henry tonight.”
“Umm, right. Night, John-Henry. Night, Cora. Thanks for the party.”
A chorus of goodnights answered.
As Auggie turned to go, Cart emerged from the crowd. “Auggie.” The word sounded a little too thick. “Auggie, don’t go. Hold on.” Grabbing Auggie by the shoulder, Cart added, “Come on, it’s early.” It came out ’searly.
“He’s tired of hanging out with old people, Cart,” Theo said. “He and Dylan want to go have fun with their friends.”
“Or do something else,” Cart said, wiggling his eyebrows. “Right?”
“Oh my God,” Cora said. “Are you two dating? That’s adorable.”
“Yeah, well,” Auggie said, a blush darkening his light brown skin. His eyes cut to Dylan. “It’s, you know, we don’t like to put labels on things.”
“Way to go, guys,” John-Henry said, stretching past Theo to fist-bump first Dylan and then Auggie. “Way to fucking go.”
Dylan said, “Yeah, man. Fist bump. Sick. Surf’s up.”
More red blotched Auggie’s cheeks. John-Henry frowned and then tried to recover with a smile. Someone had put on music, and “I’m a Barbie Girl” chirped away in the background.
“So,” Cora said, “how long have you guys been dating?”
“Auggie told you,” Dylan said. “We don’t like to label things.”
“God.” Cart grinned over the bottle of Goose Island. “That’s fucking adorable, but Dylan, word of advice, if he’s dragging you to parties, you might as well own up to the fact that he’s your boyfriend.”
Dylan’s only reply was to take Auggie’s arm above the elbow; Auggie flinched but didn’t pull away. Cart was still laughing at his own joke, but all the amusement—and much of the drunkenness—had evaporated from John-Henry’s face, and both he and Cora were watching Dylan as though seeing him for the first time. Theo watched him too. In his mind, Theo kept seeing the drawers snapping shut on Wayne Reese’s fingers.
“Aw, come on,” Cart said. He must have caught the mood because he continued, “Don’t be mad. You guys look like a good fit, that’s all I’m saying.”
“Cut it out,” Theo said.
“You should have seen him last year.” Cart wagged the bottle at Auggie. Something nasty shone in his eyes. “Little Auggie had the worst case of puppy love I’ve ever seen. Followed Theo around with his dick like a tentpole.”
“Cart,” John-Henry said, “let’s get some food in you.”
Auggie blinked rapidly and cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, Theo’s a really great guy. I hope you know how lucky you are.”
In the background, a synthesized record scratch cut off the music, and then “The Bitch is Back” came on. Patrick Foley, a redheaded officer Cart only knew by reputation, shouted, “Fuck this, Billy Joel fucking sucks.”
Cart’s mouth hung open a fraction. His eyes were glazed.
“I didn’t know you and Cart were—” Cora began. She fell silent when John-Henry touched her arm.
“Oh,” Auggie said. “Shit. Oh shit.”
It was the look on Cart’s face, that look of having been stabbed, that roused Theo. “Not funny, Auggie. Not funny at all.” He sounded mechanical even to himself. “You know Cart and I are just—”
Cart turned and stumbled into the press of bodies.
“Jesus Christ.” Theo went after him.
John-Henry caught his arm. “Maybe he needs a minute.”
“I’m sorry,” Auggie was saying. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
“I’ll find him,” John-Henry said, “give him a chance to cool down—”
“I’m sorry, Theo, I’m so sorry.”
“Will you shut the fuck up?” Theo said, rounding on Auggie.
“Watch your fucking mouth!” Dylan pulled Auggie back, interposing himself between Auggie and Theo.
“Get the fuck out of here. Get the fuck out!”
“Everybody calm down.” John-Henry put a hand on Dylan’s chest; the frat boy was pretending to try to get to Theo. Theo ignored him. His gaze was fixed on Auggie, who looked like he was about to cry.
“I’m sorry,” Auggie kept saying. “I didn’t know, I thought—”
“Theo,” Cora said, touching his shoulder, “maybe you should get some air.”
Instead, he plunged into the midst of the party, trying to guess where Cart had gone.