The Way Things Are (21 page)

He kicked the blankets up over them. “Sleep first. Just a nap.”

Ken wiggled down until he was comfortably settled into the nook of his shoulder. “Sleep sounds good.”

Patrick lifted his head up and glanced down. “How about I go downstairs and get you something for your knee first?”

“Sleep. I’ll go get something,” Ken whispered.

Ken slipped away for a moment, and Patrick wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he felt Ken crawl back into bed with him.

Patrick wrapped himself back around Ken. “Better?”

Taking painkillers just to keep living each day like the one before, repeating the same activities that made the painkillers necessary in the first place, seemed like an exercise in futility. But he’d done the same thing himself, jumping back into boxing again after nearly fifteen years out of the ring. Some things were worth a bit of pain.

They slept until nearly one. After they showered and dressed, they decided to grab lunch instead of boxing. They ate in a small pub, chatting about the Seahawks game that was playing on the TV in the corner. They talked and shared jokes like old friends, as if breaking the tension between them let them each open up.

Patrick felt strange, though, doing something so normal with someone he’d had sex with just a few hours earlier. “Is this weird for you?” he asked.

“Weird?”

“It really doesn’t feel weird, does it?” Patrick sat back in the booth and stared at Ken. “Most of my life, I’ve had to pretend I don’t know the people I hook up with if I ever see them again. I usually never see them again. I always figured going out with someone after sex would be awkward.”

“After the last five weeks of awkward conversations,” Ken said, smirking, “this is kind of a relief, to be honest.”

“That’s what it is,” Patrick agreed. As he sipped a Coke and watched Ken from across the table, he hoped he wasn’t reading too much into this.

It was just after three before they finally pulled up to the curb beside Patrick’s apartment building. Patrick was a little nervous about inviting Ken up because he couldn’t think of a single excuse to try to keep him around. But he wanted him to stay.

“Come up for a bit? Just until the kid gets home?”

Ken nodded eagerly.

Patrick took the rickety elevator rather than subject Ken to the six flights of stairs. As the elevator door slid open, he saw his apartment door standing wide open. “Well, fuck. He managed to come home on time the one time I’m not here. That figures.”

“You still want me to come in?” Ken asked.

Patrick thought about the explanations that would be required, what he could tell Jay, and what Jay might actually believe. “Yes,” Patrick said with absolute certainty. “I don’t know what to tell him, but I want you to stay. I’m kind of fixated on what might happen when you leave, you know? We’re not going to say this never happened the next time we see each other, right?”

“I hope not.”

“Then stay?”

“Yeah.”

“Give me a minute, though, just to make sure he didn’t trash the place?”

He strolled toward his apartment, his eyes taking in the trail his son had left in his wake faster than his brain could processes it. Two feet inside of his apartment, Jay’s backpack had been dropped on the floor. Sketchbooks and his hated algebra textbook were spilling out onto the floor. A few feet later, his jacket was crumpled up on top of his shoes. One sock was a few feet farther into the hallway, the other just outside Jay’s bedroom door.

“Kid!” Patrick shouted, stepping over everything. “Jay!”

He found Jay curled up on the futon in his room, a sketchbook open on his knees. His hand was moving frantically across the page, shading a dark area that looked like a young man’s cheek. His friend Michael’s face was taking shape on the page.

“Kiddo,” Patrick called from the door.

He waved his hand between Jay’s face and the page, trying not to laugh when Jay jumped.

“Pop? What’s up?”

“You left the door open again.”

“I did?” Jay looked from him to the hallway.

“Wide open. And you left your backpack on the floor. And your shoes and coat.” Patrick stared at Jay until he dropped the pencil onto his blanket. “You know you can’t do that here. There’s no buzzer downstairs, and we’ve only met a couple of our neighbors, so anybody could walk right in here. It’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous? It’s not like we’ve got anything worth taking.”

“Yes, dangerous.” Patrick folded his arms across his chest. “Just be careful from now on, okay? I want you to make damn sure you lock the door behind you, every time. And set the deadbolt.”

“Why?”

“Just do it. Also, if anybody you don’t know asks if you’re my boy, just shake your head and walk away, all right?”

“Seriously? Do I get the ‘don’t take candy from strangers on the playground’ lecture next?”

“Seriously. Put the sketchbook down and go get your shit off the floor.”

Jay winced and set the sketchbook aside with obvious regret. “Sorry.” He climbed off the futon and headed toward the front door.

“And Ken’s here.”

Jay froze as he was about to step out into the hall. “But I haven’t done anything. Not for the last few weeks, anyway.”

“He’s just here to hang out. I had a weird night. He’s been playing chauffeur for me since this morning. That reminds me, you’ve got to actually catch the bus tomorrow because I can’t give you a ride. Do you understand?”

“What happened?”

“Nothing you need to worry about. Just don’t miss the bus.”

“Don’t miss the bus, got it. But he’s hanging out?”

Patrick hadn’t thought about what to tell Jay about last night. Jay might have seen worse himself when he snuck out at night, but Patrick didn’t want Jay to think about some bastard out there trafficking in kids his age. “Nothing you need to worry about,” Patrick repeated himself.

“So why is Mr. Atkins here?”

“We hit it off. I thought we’d see if we can find a game on TV. You want to join us?” It was a safe bet Jay would prefer to draw or play video games in his room. Patrick took him to football and baseball games over the years, but Jay never got into sports.

The confused expression on Jay’s face morphed into a look of utter disbelief. “Like a football game? There’s no baseball right now, right?”

“Not until spring.”

“Uh, no thanks.” Jay turned back toward the bed and the open sketchbook. “I want to get something done.”

Patrick didn’t want to admit he noticed the way Jay blushed, but he’d have to have been blind to miss it. Maybe Corbin had been right about Jay having a crush on his friend Michael. “Anything you want to talk about, kiddo?”

Jay shook his head frantically. “No. Not a thing.”

“Uh-huh. If you change your mind….”

Jay shook his head again.

Patrick sighed, honestly relieved. The last thing he had wanted as a teenager was to talk about who he had a crush on with his old man, and he couldn’t imagine Jay felt any less mortified by the idea. Still, he had to offer Jay the chance. “All right. I’ll order dinner in an hour. You want anything in particular?”

Jay looked up at him hopefully. “Pizza?”

Patrick just shrugged. “Probably. Unless you magically learned how to cook at Michael’s.”

“If I learned to cook, we wouldn’t get as much pizza,” Jay muttered. “So can I just call Mr. Atkins ‘Ken’ if he’s here hanging out?”

“Yeah, I think that might be inevitable at this point,” Patrick said, following Jay out.

Jay froze in the hall and turned back. He stared at him for a long moment, his head tilted.

“What? Do you mind him hanging out?”

“No!” Jay’s tone was insistent. “I just….” He fidgeted under Patrick’s gaze, then wandered out toward the things he’d shed on his way through the front door.

It took Jay a ridiculously long time to pick up his backpack, shoes, and jacket, staring between Ken and Patrick the whole time.

“How’s it going, Jay?” Ken asked, smiling despite the awkward situation.

“Okay, I guess. So you helped my dad?” he asked, wringing his hands.

“That’s right. With you finishing up your supervision this week, I figured it’d be okay for me to finally ask him to teach me how to box. He needed a ride and it seemed like a good chance to ask.”

Jay stared at Ken with an expression filled with doubt. He looked at Patrick. “Boxing?”

Patrick allowed himself a little smile. Jay would probably see right through him; he almost always did. “It’d be nice to have somebody to spar with who’s closer to my size. Every time I get the upper hand with Uncle Corbin, I end up holding back because he’s so much smaller than me. And then he kicks my ass.”

Jay turned back toward Ken.

“That first time was a blast,” Ken continued easily. “Not appropriate given my job watching you, but it was fun. We were going to see what’s on and iron out the details. Want to see if we can find a game to watch?”

“Yeah, okay. Sure.”

Patrick gaped at him. “Really?”

Jay shrugged and rolled his eyes.

Jay stayed in the living room, claiming the large recliner for himself so Patrick and Ken had no choice but to share the couch. Patrick wasn’t about to complain, though. They switched between an NFL game and a college game on ESPN. After sharing a pizza with them, Jay seemed more relaxed, but he could only sit still for half an hour before he was drawing again.

“I’m going to go draw in my room,” Jay announced, holding up the sketchbook.

“Sure, kiddo.”

“Good night, Ken,” Jay called, disappearing down the hall.

Ken leaned back into the couch. “Well, that could have gone worse,” he whispered, running his hand over Patrick’s denim-clad thigh.

“He knows,” Patrick insisted. “God, I can’t lie to him. It’s not even an ethical thing. I’m really not capable of lying when I’m talking to him.”

“I think he’s just curious.”

“No,” Patrick said, shaking his head. “He knows. Or he suspects. I swear, he’s too smart for his own good.”

“Sorry.” Ken rubbed his thigh once more. “I was serious about the boxing thing, though. That was fun, and I’d love to do it again. Hell, it might be just the incentive I need to get my ass into shape.”

“I like the shape of your ass already.”

Ken leaned over and kissed his neck, just below his ear, and Patrick felt like he was coming unglued. There were a lot of things he should be thinking about, but Ken’s lips shouldn’t be on the list.

However much Patrick wanted to ask him to stay, he didn’t dare. “I’ve taken up your whole day, haven’t I?” he whispered.

“You’ve taken up large chunks of my day, every day, for weeks. At least in my head.”

Patrick tried to stifle a groan as Ken sucked his earlobe into his mouth for a moment. “Can I take up a bit more of your evening?” he asked.

“Not sure that’s such a good idea,” Ken whispered, nodding toward the hall.

“Not here. Not with Jay in the house.” Patrick took a deep breath to calm himself down. “There is one place I’d love to take you, and even though the circumstances suck, I can’t think of when I’d get another chance.”

“Huh?”

“Give me a minute.”

Patrick knocked on Jay’s bedroom door and waited a moment. Behind the door, pages shuffled quickly. “Yeah?” Jay called.

Patrick ducked his head into Jay’s room. “Kiddo, Ken’s going to take off for the night. Since the entire terminal’s shut down, I’m going to head down to the docks and change out a few fuses that have to be replaced. Half of my display back lights are dead, and that makes reading manifests a bitch at night.”

“Why is the terminal shut down?” Jay asked, not looking up from his drawing.

Patrick swore under his breath. “Just some trouble last night.” If he lied, Jay would see right through him yet again. And then Jay would just make a point of finding out what had happened on his own. “Someone found a body in one of the storage yards. The yard is roped off, and the terminal is closed until the police finish collecting evidence. If I replace them now, it won’t screw up the schedule tomorrow night.”

Jay’s hand stopped dragging the pencil back and forth. He looked up at Patrick, fear mixed with curiosity in his eyes. “A body?”

“Yeah.” Patrick told himself that wasn’t technically a lie. “Either way, the crane is shut down, so it’s as good a time as any. You’re in for the night, do you understand? Keep the doors locked and don’t do anything stupid.”

“I’m home on my own most nights. I haven’t burned the place down yet, have I?”

“There’s a first time for everything, so don’t jinx it.”

Jay rolled his eyes. “I’ll be fine. He likes you too, you know.”

Patrick froze halfway through pulling the door shut. “Huh?” It was better to pretend he didn’t know what the hell Jay was talking about.

“Ken looks at you the same way you look at him.”

He sighed. “Jay, you shouldn’t…. You don’t need to worry about how Ken looks at me, or how I look at him, all right?”

“Sure, I guess.” Jay focused in on the sketchbook again. “But he does.”

Patrick sighed. There was no point in arguing since it would just confirm Jay’s suspicions. He wasn’t quite sure how this conversation was supposed to go, and for now he wanted to avoid it altogether. “Stay in, stay safe. Don’t open the door for anybody, okay?”

“Okay.”

“S
O
WHERE
am I going?” Ken asked, following Patrick’s direction through dark and almost deserted streets.

“Work. I’ve got some stuff I’ve been meaning to replace before the holidays. With Thanksgiving coming up, we’re not going to have any downtime, and with the terminal closed anyway, I can actually get them replaced.” He shrugged nervously. “It’s something to do.”

“Want to go to my place instead? There’s no traffic, so it’d be a short drive.”

Patrick fidgeted beside him. “I would like to go to your place, but this is one of the only chances I might ever have to show you where I work. And the fuses really do have to be replaced, so we’ve got a built-in excuse.”

“I’ve seen the docks before.”

“Not like this. Come with me. I’ve seen your office lots of times, and I’d like to show you mine. If your knee’s up for it.”