The Way Things Are (23 page)

The man sighed and seemed to shrink. “Assuming they’re ever going to let us open up again. They’re sweeping the port for stowaways again. Guess they figure the guy they found was involved in smuggling that family in last October,” Ethan confided. “They think he was trying to move more people in, and things went bad. They aren’t letting any of us help search the containers that are in the yards, even though we’ve got the manpower to look around the clock.”

“They can’t keep everything closed,” Patrick said. “I mean, it’s the Port of Seattle.”

“You think they care? The cops just want to throw their weight around and rub it in that one of the Port Authority guys was involved with this. Like there’s never been a dirty cop in their department! Everything is locked down until tomorrow at the earliest. We’ve had to reroute ships with refrigerated cargo to San Francisco and have those loads moved by truck. You can bet the terminal owners are going to find some way to take that money out of our paychecks. The whole thing just sucks,” he muttered once he was settled on the floor beside Patrick.

“We can get caught up if they let us open tomorrow,” Patrick promised.

Inside the room behind the porthole, something beeped. “I hope so. Finally!” The man ducked back inside, and Ken caught a glimpse of him hovering over an old yellowed keyboard. “We can’t move anything, but I can get loading plans drawn up, at least.”

Patrick stepped forward and let the round metal door close against his shoulder. Behind his back, he motioned for Ken to go past him toward the stairs. “Anything you need help with? Since I’m here, I mean.”

“I got it.”

Ken heard a series of fast, confident keystrokes as he moved past Patrick.

“Hell, normally I have to throw these together while we’re working. This should be a breeze.” There was a long silence from the control room. “You’re a good guy, Connelly. If this guy was smuggling people in through our terminal, finding him might not be the end of it. If you see anything weird, anything at all, you let me know, all right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Are you okay? Dealing with shit, I mean?”

Ken inched back toward the door and Patrick. He wanted to hear Patrick’s answer too.

“I think so. I was so freaked out last night I didn’t even think to call 911 right away. I called a buddy of mine at a bar because I couldn’t think of what the hell to do.”

“Well, it could have been worse. You going to be okay, coming back into work Monday?”

“Absolutely.”

He heard shuffling inside the tiny room. Patrick seemed to know he was still there, though, and he waved him toward the steps again.

“If you need time, let me know, all right?” the man said quietly. “How’s your boy doing these days?”

“Good. He’s been staying out of trouble. Just turned fifteen a week ago.”

“Hasn’t gotten his ass thrown in jail again?”

“Not yet, but it’s just a matter of time,” Patrick said. “He can’t sit still unless he has a can of spray paint in his hands.”

Ken hurried down the stairs as quietly as he could. At the base of the stairs, he stopped. He’d parked in one of the closest spots, not twenty feet from the base of the enormous support frame. A newer Mercedes was parked two spots away. Ken just had time to open the door of his car and turn around before he heard the clang of footsteps on the stairs. He spun around and faced Patrick and the other man, trying to make it look like he’d just gotten out of the car.

“You’ve got my cell number, right?” the man asked when they reached the bottom step.

“Yeah.”

“Good. If you need an extra day or two, let me know. I know we’re behind, but I can’t have you burn out on me before Christmas.” The man clapped Patrick on the shoulder.

Patrick shifted nervously. “I appreciate it, but I’ll be fine. With a birthday, Thanksgiving, and Christmas all coming one right after another, I need the money.”

The man’s dark eyes narrowed when he spotted Ken. “Hey, aren’t you that detective guy? Atkins, right?”

“Ken Atkins is a buddy of mine,” Patrick said quickly.

Ken nodded in greeting but didn’t move away from the car.

“He gave me a lift down here because the police are still collecting evidence in my truck.”

“Why would the police be looking at your truck?”

“In case I killed the guy,” he explained. Patrick shoved his hands into his pockets and hurried toward Ken’s car. “They took my clothes from last night too. Even swabs from under my fingernails. I tracked crap into my truck before I even thought it might be blood.”

“Your clothes? How close did you get to him?”

“Close enough to get hit with the splatters when he fell out of the container.”

“Jesus.”

“It’s no big deal. Just a bit of a shock. But I’ve got to get home, make sure my boy’s still behaving himself.” Patrick hurried to the passenger side of Ken’s car. “Have a good night, Ethan!” He waved before ducking inside.

Ken climbed in quickly, started the car, and forced himself not to peel out on the gravel. “Did you get in trouble?” he asked, stealing a glance at Patrick.

Patrick slumped down low in the seat and was breathing hard. “That was my boss,” he explained. “If he’d seen you up there….” Patrick shook his head emphatically. “I don’t know what he’d have done, but there would have been hell to pay.”

Ken headed back toward the bridge and the highway. “He didn’t seem like a bad guy.”

“He’s not,” Patrick agreed. “But the reason I usually take the elevator is because even I’m not supposed to be on those ladders without a harness and a hardhat. It’s one write-up per OSHA violation, and six write-ups before you’re fired. I’d have managed all six in one go, if he’d caught us. Not to mention that’s about as creepy as getting caught by my dad.”

Ken tried not to laugh. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. It was damn near as exciting as
not
getting caught by my dad,” Patrick laughed.

“No, I’m sorry I chickened out. We won’t have another shot at that, will we?”

Patrick barked out a loud, relieved laugh. “You never know.”

Ken drove Patrick back to his apartment and reached out to kiss him good night in the car. “You okay?” he asked.

“I’m terrified.”

“Terrified?”

Ken felt Patrick smile against his jaw. “Not in a bad way,” he continued. “This is weird.”

Ken trailed a dozen soft kisses over his jaw, avoiding claiming his lips because this sounded important. “Weird?”

Patrick wrapped his arms around Ken’s neck and rubbed his cheek over Ken’s hair. “I know this is going to sound stupid, but this is new to me. I mean, I’ve had sex with guys and I was married for nearly a decade, but I’ve never felt connected to somebody like I do with you. And I’m not trying to scare you off, I swear!”

Ken wanted to admit he felt like a frightened teenager himself coming to terms with the tangle of emotions, desire, and fear simmering inside of him. There were so many ways this relationship could blow up, and there was the very real chance it would destroy his career when it did. But he couldn’t seem to stop himself from touching Patrick now, couldn’t persuade himself to slow down or wait.

“Do you think Jay would mind if I followed you upstairs?”

Ken felt the vibrations in Patrick’s throat as he groaned.

“I don’t think we’re there yet,” Patrick said, slipping his fingers off Ken’s shoulders and pulling away. “I wish we were, but not yet.”

“That’s what I expected, but I figured I’d ask anyway.” Ken pulled away from him for a moment and grinned. “He didn’t seem upset about me being there earlier, so that’s a good sign, right?”

Patrick shrugged. “I don’t know what it is. But he’s got school tomorrow. You’ve got Mondays off, right?”

Ken nodded. “Sundays and Mondays.”

“Come by tomorrow?”

“Boxing?” Ken asked. “I was serious about that.”

“Do I get to drag you back to my place for a shower afterward?”

Ken tugged Patrick back across the center console for one last deep, hard kiss. “That might be the best incentive to work out I’ve ever had.”

Chapter 10

K
EN
SHOWED
up at ten the next day but Patrick had just managed to drag himself out of bed for the second time that morning. He’d been surprised by how well he’d slept. He’d been expecting nightmares, fearing his imagination would throw together some warped collage of Jay’s face and the dead man from the docks, but he’d slept straight through the night without a single dream he could remember. He’d gotten out of bed to make sure Jay got ready for school, then stumbled back to bed again.

When Ken showed up ready to go to the gym, Patrick had barely been ready to think about breakfast.

“So I’ve got to ask you something before we head to your gym,” Ken said as they shared a cup of coffee and toast at Patrick’s kitchen table.

Patrick sat back, nervous despite the easy smile on Ken’s face. He nodded for Ken to go ahead, then finished chewing his bite of toast.

“Were you and Corbin together? It’s been bugging me. I know I don’t have any right to be jealous or anything, and I know you said you’re friends, but you don’t act like friends.”

Patrick relaxed a little, relieved Ken wasn’t going to ask him about the man he’d found at the docks. Questions about sex he could handle. “We tried getting together when we were teenagers, but it really didn’t work. There’s no way we could be together now. We’re totally different. Why?”

“Because I don’t want to piss him off, and I don’t want to misinterpret things. Part of me wants to be jealous, you know? You two seem close, but he….”

“He what?”

“He’s pretty. And he loves boxing as much as you. And you’re already friends.”

Patrick drained his coffee quickly. “Corbin isn’t my type anymore.”

“Anymore?”

“Corbin wasn’t always quite as flamboyant as he is now. He didn’t sleep around as much. He wasn’t as crazy. When we were teenagers, we were a lot more alike. Around the time I met Denise, Corbin started college and fell hard for his roommate. Eric, I think, was his name. The first time they got drunk together, they ended up in bed. The next day, Eric was upset and made Corbin swear they’d pretend it never happened, and that it would never happen again. Corbin wanted Eric to know that it hadn’t been a mistake, not for him, at least, but when he tried to tell Eric it was okay, Eric just got mad at him. But every time Eric got drunk, they fucked each other again, all the way up through their senior year. They even moved out of the dorms and got an apartment together that first year, and Corbin thought it was just a matter of time before Eric came around.”

Patrick shook his head sadly, remembering how Corbin seemed to be teetering between depression and pitiful hope every time they talked on the phone.

“As time went on, Corbin kept becoming more open about being gay—he joined the college chapter of Lambda, wore tight clothes, started wearing eyeliner and stuff like that. The more obvious he made it, the less Eric hung out with him. By the time graduation rolled around, Eric moved in with his girlfriend but still came by drunk on the weekends to fuck Corbin. One day Eric was with his friends and girlfriend when Corbin walked by, and his buddies started making fun of Corbin. I don’t know how things blew up, but Corbin managed to goad Eric into taking a swing at him, and outed him in the process.”

Ken smirked. “What did Corbin do to him?”

“Physically? Nothing,” Patrick admitted. “He didn’t even roll with the punch. He leaned into it to make the damage worse. Eric ended up breaking his nose in two places. And he lost everything. His girlfriend broke up with him, he lost his ROTC scholarship, and Corbin moved out.”

“He lost his scholarship?”

“And his apartment. It was right in the middle of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, and everybody on campus heard about it—”

“Oh.” Ken nodded. “Damn, it’s easy to forget about things like that now that it’s not an issue anymore. But that sucks. Was Corbin okay?”

Patrick just rolled his eyes. “He’s Corbin. He’s tougher than he looks. He decided he was never going to be with anybody who was ashamed of him again. From pink halter tops to rainbow fingernail polish, Corbin plays it up as much as he possibly can. He figures if someone is going to have a problem with him, he’d rather know up front.”

Ken shrugged and sipped his coffee. “So no one who’s still in the closet would dare try to pick him up? Outside of a bar, anyway. You know, that explains a lot about him. When he came into the detention center to get you, I thought he just liked to provoke people.”

Patrick smiled a little. “He does. Did he hit on you?”

“He kept eyeing my little brother. And he was loud,” Ken explained. “If I weren’t out already, he’d have done the job for me. I’m just glad Bran was the one sitting there with me, otherwise it would have been really embarrassing. But when I just laughed and acted like it was no big deal, he told me I should hit on you.”

“Bran is the patrol officer?”

Ken nodded. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry. Corbin’s over the top sometimes, but he’s stuck with me all this time, even though I’m pretty dull compared to the rest of his friends.”