The cat condo was finally put together, and I’d only skinned my knuckles twice. I washed my hands and put on a couple of Band-Aids, then fed Pita, broiled a couple of pork chops, and baked a potato for my own dinner.
Afterward, I rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. Once the kitchen was tidied and the cardboard and bags from my shopping spree taped up to be recycled, I crouched down to have a conversation with the kitten.
“I’m going out for a few hours. Don’t get into mischief, okay?” I rubbed her head, but to be on the safe side, I made sure all the doors were closed, except for the powder room, which Pita would need access to.
I locked the door in the correct sequence and went down to get my car.
Son of a bitch! There was a sticker on it saying if I left it in front of the building one more time, the association would have it towed.
Oh yeah? Let ’em fucking try!
I ripped off the sticker, balled it up, and tossed it aside. Maybe I would run for a board position.
The drive into DC didn’t take long, and within fifteen minutes I was parking in front of the house where I’d lived a year ago.
The first floor was dark… no lights spilled out onto the sidewalk. The ladies must be either away or taking the evening off.
I climbed the steps, unlocked the front door, and let myself in.
“Well. Hello, Mark Vincent. It’s been a long time.” Tall, blonde, and curvy, Layla was one of the ladies who lived on the second floor and saw her clients on the first. I’d never been one, although she’d offered me a discount because we both lived in the same building. She’d taken it well when I’d told her I was involved with someone.
“Hi, Layla. I guess it has. How’ve you been?”
“Not bad. I’ll be getting out of the business in about a month.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“I’m getting too old for this.” She wasn’t more than twenty-five or twenty-six, but I knew what she meant.
“What will you do?”
“One of my clients is in the housing industry. She was impressed by the way I decorated the first floor and offered me a position in her firm. I’ll be staging their houses and condos. As a matter of fact, I’m going to see her for drinks right now.”
“Well, good luck. The housing market is booming now, and you may as well take advantage of it.”
“I know. Are you sure I can’t interest you in a little…?”
“Thanks, Layla, but—”
“—you’re involved.” She smiled, winked, and turned, and I watched as she headed down the stairs. She had a sweet ass, and if I ever decided to sail that side of the lake again, she might be one to tempt me. Of course the odds of that were nil while I had Quinn in my life.
I resumed my climb to the third floor.
This was an amazing house, built before the Civil War and turned into a boarding house during World War Two. The rent boys had it renovated after they’d purchased it twelve or so years ago. I’d enjoyed living here, even though my apartment was in the attic.
I thought again about what it would be like if Quinn moved in with me. Hell, I didn’t even know if he’d consider it. What I did know was that I wanted him sharing a place with me—every day, every night, and not just on the weekends.
Maybe next time I saw him, I’d casually broach the subject.
I reached the third floor landing, crossed to the apartment, and leaned on the bell.
After a minute or so, Matheson opened the door. “Mr. Vincent.”
“Vince.” Theo was right behind him. “I wasn’t expecting to see you. Would you like a cup of coffee and some baklava?”
“Thanks, I’d like that.” It was a good enough excuse. And besides, “You make good coffee, Theo.”
“I’ll get another cup.” He seemed pleased by my compliment.
“His baklava is good.” Matheson said.
Theo preened. “You’ll try it, yes, Vince? I’ll get a dessert plate too,” he called as he headed for the kitchen.
Matheson tilted his head and stared at me. “I’m sure you didn’t come to sample Theo’s baklava.”
“No, I didn’t. I thought you might want this.” I handed him the video case.
“Is this....” I nodded. “You won’t mind if I check.” He gripped the case so hard his knuckles turned white.
I gave a brusque nod. I’d mind if he just took my word for it. He left the room.
“What’s Wills going to check?” Theo came in holding a tray with the extra cup, saucer, and plate. A cat with a short tail followed him.
“The video. I thought you might want it.”
“The…” His hand shook so hard I expected him to spill the contents of the tray onto the floor, and I caught it just in time and put it on the table. “Thanks.” He licked his lips. “… the video?”
“Yeah.”
“Why would I want it?” he asked bitterly. “To remind Wills of the kind of life I lived?”
He was really distressed, and I rested a hand on his shoulder. “It’s better you have the tape than that it’s out there for anyone to make copies of it.” Especially since this was tape number two.
“I… I guess you’re right. But the thought that he’s looking at it….” His eyes were bright with tears.
“You both need to be sure.”
“You never told me how someone in your company got hold of it, Vince.” The hand he scrubbed over his face was still shaking. “I mean, it’s hardly a threat to national security.”
I picked up the cup and took a sip of the coffee. “There’s nothing like coffee from freshly ground beans.”
“Vince….”
The cat wound itself back and forth between my legs—I wondered if it smelled Pita on my trousers—and I leaned down and rubbed its ears. “Hello, cat.”
“This is Tiramisu. We call her Miss Su. Wills gave her to me for Christmas.”
Another female. I sat down, and she jumped onto my lap and started purring. I’d never had a pet—my old lady didn’t want any in the house, not a dog or a fish or a bird. And when I’d gone out on my own… well, as I’d told Quinn when I’d introduced him to Sam, it wasn’t fair to an animal if I didn’t know when I’d be home, or even if I would.
Matheson returned with the video, his mouth in a tight line. “It’s the tape.” He put it down on the table with a snap. “What’s going on, sir?”
I told them what I could without compromising the situation—they didn’t need to know I’d canceled the man behind this. Matheson accepted the terse explanation because he was WBIS; Theo accepted it because as a former rent boy, he knew better than to press for answers.
“I want it gone. Please, Wills. I don’t want any reminders of that time!”
“We’ll get rid of it however you say, babe.” Matheson went to him, wrapped his arms around him, and, unmindful of my presence, kissed him. Theo was the taller of the two, but just then it didn’t seem that way. Matheson murmured something in Theo’s ear, holding on to him and stroking his hair.
Once Matheson agreed to dispose of the tape, Theo regained control of himself and relaxed enough to sit down and nibble on his cookie.
It didn’t last long, though.
“Let me get you another cup of coffee.” He started to rise.
“No, I’m good.”
Before he could sit down, Matheson smiled at him. “I’ll have another cup, babe. If it’s not too much trouble?”
“Nothing’s too much trouble for you.” Theo leaned over and brushed a kiss over his cheek. “He’s marrying me, Vince. Isn’t that the greatest thing you’ve ever heard?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty nifty,” I agreed. He left the room, almost bouncing. “Did you really need another cup of coffee?”
“No.” Matheson turned and regarded me somberly. “Is this the only tape, sir?”
I met his gaze, pleased with how well this senior special agent was shaping up. “No. I destroyed the one Davies gave me on Friday.”
“So this is a copy.” He looked tired.
“Honeycutt told me it’s the original.”
“You saw him?”
“That’s where I got this from.” I tapped the tape.
“If there were two, there could be more.” Matheson’s mouth was set in a grim line. “I’ll try to reassure Theo, but he knows how easy it is to duplicate these fucking things. Sorry, sir.”
“Forget about it.”
“I just wish I could get my hands on Honeycutt.”
“Forget about him too.”
“Forget about who?” Theo put the cup down in front of Matheson, then draped himself over his fiancé’s back and nuzzled the side of his throat.
This would be a good time to leave. I got to my feet and nodded toward the two notepads on the table. “I see you're making out your guest list.”
“You're on it.”
“Good. Mind if I bring a guest?”
“Bring whoever you want. You're not gonna tell me how you found out about Connor, are you?”
I grinned at him and turned to my agent. “I'll see you in the morning, Matheson.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And plan on working next weekend. I can't keep giving you time off.” I glanced at the tape.
“I know what to do with this, Mr. Vincent.”
“Good.” He was shaping up to be a decent agent. I checked the time. Pita might be getting antsy. “I’d better go. Thanks for the coffee and the cookie.”
Theo straightened and gave me a pained look. “Baklava!”
“Right. Good night.”
“’Night, Vince.”
“Good night, sir.”
“Mrrow.”
I stooped and ran a knuckle with its Band-Aid under the cat’s chin. “Good night to you too, cat.”
As I walked down the two flights of stairs, I wondered how Quinn would feel about getting a pet. I wasn’t sure about a dog—even if I didn’t generally leave the country much anymore, I was still out of the condo all day. But cats... they were pretty self-sufficient.
I’d surprise him with Pita’s presence on the weekend and see what he thought. If he liked her enough, we could go to one of Portia’s no-kill shelters and see about picking one out. Or maybe two, to keep each other company.
Yeah, that was an idea, and I grinned, thinking of how I’d impress Quinn by putting together a cat condo without skinning my knuckles.