Hazard and Somerset, Page 3

  “I know what dinner is, John.”

  Somers was biting the inside of his cheek; Hazard could tell.

  “I shouldn’t have done this,” Somers said.

  “It’s for charity.”

  “You’ve got this look in your eyes.”

  “What look?”

  “Uh.”

  Hazard took a long pull of Guinness and said, “What look?”

  “You know what? Never mind.”

  “Now I’m curious.”

  “Christ, I really shouldn’t have done this.”

  “You won,” Hazard said. “I knew you’d win.”

  “This was a huge mistake.”

  “You won,” Hazard ticked items off on his fingers. “You raised a lot of money for that kid. You looked super hot. And I discovered a very interesting new use of duct tape.”

  Somers grinned. Then his smile slipped as he looked past Hazard.

  Over his shoulder, Hazard spotted the asshole working his way through the crowd toward them.

  “Ready to go, hot stuff?” the asshole said. He was checking his bedhead again.

  “You know,” Somers said, glancing at Hazard. “You go ahead. I’ll skip the limo ride tonight.” He offered a smile. “Save it for dinner.”

  “You mean our date,” the asshole said.

  “Well, it’s not really a date. I’ve got a boyfriend.”

  “Trust me,” the asshole flashed veneers. “It’s going to be a date.”

  A rumble built in Hazard’s throat.

  “Now,” the asshole said. “Do I need to go tell Will that I won’t be writing him that check because you refuse to get in the limo with me?”

  The rumble was building into a growl.

  “Because,” the asshole said, “I’d hate for that poor tranny kid to be out on the street because you don’t want to live up to your end of the bargain.”

  Somers glanced at Hazard. “Ree?”

  Hazard bared his teeth in what he hoped looked like a smile. “Go ahead.”

  Somers looked at the asshole. Looked at Hazard. “It’s just a ride home.”

  “Sure,” Hazard said.

  “I just don’t want that kid to lose the money we raised.”

  “Of course not.”

  “I’ll meet you back there.”

  “Perfect.”

  Somers kissed him on the cheek and then slid off the stool. Hazard watched them go. His knuckles ached from grabbing the bar so tightly. When the two men reached the doors, the asshole gestured for Somers to go first. And then he slapped Somers on the ass.

  Hazard got up so fast the stool fell over with a crash. He surged toward the exit. He was vaguely aware of a few people who got into his way; he bowled them over without slowing down. When he burst out into the crisp October night, the limo was still idling at the curb, and the asshole was sliding onto the back seat. Hazard glimpsed Somers in the limo’s shadowy interior. As the driver closed the door, the asshole’s hand fell on Somers’s knee.

  Hazard marched toward the car. The driver was saying something—it might have been a question. Hazard couldn’t hear him over the gasoline fire inside his head. He went around to the other side of the car, yanked on the handle, and the door opened. He got into the limo, blinked as his eyes adjusted, and took in the scene.

  Somers had slid all the way up to the glass partition. The asshole had pursued him and was now pressed against him, hand on Somers’s knee.

  Hazard dropped onto the back seat.

  “What the fuck?” the asshole said. “What the absolute fuck? Get the fuck out, asshole. I paid for this ride.”

  And Hazard knew he didn’t mean the limo.

  Somers sighed, settled back against the partition, and rolled his eyes.

  “Hey,” the asshole said. “Fucktard.”

  Hazard settled into the seat, getting comfortable.

  “Hey,” the asshole shouted. “Retard. You fucking retard. Get out of the car.”

  Hazard spread his legs. He leaned forward, one elbow on his knee, chin resting on the heel of his hand.

  “Jesus Christ.” The asshole hammered on the partition. Then he hammered on a window. Then on the roof of the car. “Will somebody get this asshole out of here?”

  Hazard cleared his throat. He made eye contact with the asshole.

  “What the fuck—” Something got caught in the asshole’s throat. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  Hazard extended his free hand and pointed at Somers. He was having trouble with words, but one came through clearly.

  “Mine.”

  For a moment longer, the asshole hammered on the glass. Then he met Hazard’s eyes again. With a squeak, he scooted along the leather upholstery. A moment later, he threw the door open and jumped out of the car.

  Somers sighed again.

  Hazard pointed at the seat next to him.

  Somers rapped once on the partition, and it lowered an inch. Somers gave their address. The limo pulled away from the curb.

  Hazard pointed to the seat next to him again.

  “He’s going to throw a fit,” Somers said.

  Hazard jabbed a finger at the seat insistently.

  “He’s going to give Will hell.”

  “Get over here, John.” Hazard could barely work the words out. “Right. Now.”

  Somers was trying not to smile and doing a fairly creditable job. He moved to the seat next to Hazard.

  In one movement, Hazard rotated, straddling Somers and pinning him to the seat. In another single movement, Hazard yanked, and Somers’s shirt flew open, buttons pinging throughout the limo. Hazard ran a splayed hand down Somers’s chest.

  Somers was breathing hard.

  Hazard cracked his jaw. He drew air through his nose. Then he wrapped one big hand around Somers’s throat.

  “Mine.”

  Somers’s next exhalation sent a shudder through the blond man.

  “I think you said something—” Somers had to stop to wet his lips. “About showing me.” His tongue ran over his lips again. “In bed.”

  Hazard growled as he bent forward to kiss his boyfriend.

  PRETTY AND PINK AND PERFECT

  This story takes place before The Rational Faculty.

  I

  SEPTEMBER 7

  FRIDAY

  3:47 PM

  EMERY HAZARD HAD A COLLEGE DEGREE. He had obtained the position of detective in two police departments, and in both jobs he had distinguished himself by solving difficult, sometimes impossible cases. Now, in the new house he shared with his boyfriend, John-Henry Somerset, he was pacing. He walked through the front living room, one of his big hands settling lightly on a present wrapped in Dora the Explorer paper, on a party hat, on the pink canvas tent he had ordered off Etsy at two in the morning in a kind of drunken revenge fuck on himself because he had been convinced, in the small hours, that he was going to ruin everything. He touched the tacks holding the banner in place. He stayed in the doorway. His eyes ran over everything again.

  Then it was the kitchen: the pizza warming in the oven, the chicken fingers, the relish tray—which Somers had laughed about. He opened the double doors of the fridge like he was unlocking a safe, and then he wasn’t even sure he dared to breathe. The slightest vibration in the air seemed likely to topple the pink confection of frosting that occupied the width of the bottom shelf. Hazard read over the lettering on the cake again. And then he closed the doors—carefully, carefully—and jogged up to the bedroom to grab his shoes and keys.

  Somers, as usual, was being Somers. He was sprawled on the bed in nothing but a pair of gym shorts, flipping through a paperback.

  “Where are you going?” Somers said, breaking his concentration just long enough to glance up at Hazard before returning to the book.

  “Can you put some clothes on? They’re going to be here in ten minutes.”

  “Really?” Somers rolled, muscles rippling in his
abdomen, and blinked at the clock. “No kidding.”

  “Clothes, John. Now.”

  “I just need to throw on a shirt.”

  “You just need to—” Hazard spun to the closet. Then back to Somers. “No. No gym shorts.”

  “Uh huh,” Somers mumbled as he turned another page.

  “John, I’m serious.”

  “I know.” He licked a finger and flipped back through the book.

  “What did I just say?”

  After what felt like an eternity, Somers raised his head, tousled blond hair framing him like a nimbus, and blinked. “Huh?”

  “John,” Hazard said. Only it didn’t really sound like that. It sounded more like a growl. He spun back to the closet, threw open the door, and yanked out a polo. He laid it on the bed. Then he dragged open the bottom drawer of the dresser. It got stuck. Hazard yanked, and the pull came loose an instant before the wood shrieked and the drawer popped open. Swearing, Hazard threw the pull on the bed and dug out a pair of jeans. Then, just to be safe, he found a pair of socks.

  Somers was already nose-deep in the book again.

  In two steps, Hazard reached the bed. He laid his hand over the page Somers was reading.

  “Hey,” Somers said, looking up with a little frown. “What gives?”

  “Clothes, John. Real clothes. It’s your daughter’s third birthday party.”

  “It’s our daughter’s third birthday party.”

  “You aren’t going to wear gym shorts to her birthday party.”

  Carefully folding the corner of a page, Somers laid down the book. Then he blinked big, blue eyes at Hazard and wiggled his hips. “Maybe you should take them off me. Just to make sure I don’t forget.”

  “Stop fucking around, all right? I’ve got to run to the store.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because they messed up the cake.”

  Somers seemed to turn that over for a moment. “The cake.”

  “Yes. Her birthday cake.”

  “The one you picked up yesterday.”

  “Yes, John. The only fucking cake she has.”

  “The one you’ve been checking every fifteen minutes.”

  “I haven’t been—will you just get dressed?”

  “And suddenly, after twenty-four hours of double checking the cake, you noticed something’s wrong.”

  “They spelled her name wrong.”

  Somers snorted and rolled his eyes. He picked up his book.

  “Get dressed. Right now. They’re going to be here any minute, and it’ll take me at least fourteen minutes and thirty-seven seconds to get to the store and back.”

  “You’re insane.” Another lazy turn of a page. “I love you, but you’re insane.”

  “I can probably shave it down to thirteen minutes and fifty-two seconds if I have exact change.”

  “Ok,” Somers said, setting down the book again. “Let’s go look at the cake.”

  They stood in front of the open refrigerator, staring down at the tower of pink and white icing.

  “It’s fine,” Somers said.

  “Really? Use your fucking eyes, John.”

  “I don’t see anything wrong. Happy Birthday, Evie.”

  “The last e.”

  Somers leaned forward, but Hazard caught his arm to keep him from getting too close and sticking his nose in it.

  “What?”

  “Really, John?”

  “It’s an e.”

  “It looks like a c.”

  Somers grinned. “Happy birthday, Evic.”

  “Great. You think this is funny.”

  “It’s so weird because Cora and I almost named her Evic.”

  “You think this is all one big fucking joke.”

  “Oh no. It’s an e that looks kind of like a c if you stare at it for twenty-four hours. That’s a big deal.”

  “So now I’m overreacting. Now I’m crazy.”

  Somers blew out a breath and studied Hazard from under raised eyebrows. “Tell you what.”

  “Another fucking joke? I don’t have time. I’ve got to get to the store and buy one of those frosting kits.”

  “Here’s what we’re going to do.”

  “Could you hurry it up, please?”

  “We’re going to close the refrigerator. And then I’m going to kiss you. And then I’m going to tell you something.”

  “I don’t have time for this shit.” Hazard turned to go.

  “I’ll put my hand in the cake.”

  Hazard froze. He turned back slowly. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Right in the middle. And I’ll scoop out a huge chunk and throw it right on the floor. Little Evic will never get her birthday cake.”

  “You’re a fucking monster.”

  Grinning, Somers closed the refrigerator. Then he wrapped his arms around Hazard, stretching up to kiss him lightly on the lips. When he’d dropped back onto his heels, Somers said, “Here’s what I want to tell you.”

  Hazard rolled his shoulder, trying to look like he wasn’t wiggling free.

  “The thing about birthday parties,” Somers said, tightening his grip, “especially toddler birthday parties, is that they’re supposed to be fun.”

  “I know that.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Will you get off me?”

  “Everybody’s going to be here soon. You’ve got about two minutes to get the crazy out of your system.”

  Hazard drew away, all the old walls coming up, the old shields back in place. But Somers didn’t let go. And then, even though it was hard, even though Hazard couldn’t bring himself to look Somers in the face, he said, “It’s . . . it’s my first one.”

  “And you don’t want to mess it up.”

  Hazard shrugged.

  “You won’t,” Somers said, kissing him again. “You’re great. You’ve planned everything to perfection. Evie is going to love it.”

  As though her name had been a signal, Hazard heard the front door open, and then a long shrieking hello as Evie sprinted down the hallway to find them. Cora came a few steps later, thin and dark-haired and beautiful as ever, and she wrinkled her nose when she saw Somers.

  “I was going to get dressed,” Somers said, “but Emery kept bothering me.”

  Hazard opened his mouth.

  Before he could say anything, Cora pointed at Evie and said, “Language.”

  II

  SEPTEMBER 7

  FRIDAY

  4:14 PM

  THE PARTY GOT OFF to a decent start. In a matter of minutes, toddlers filled the house, followed by a string of parents, all of them chatting and smiling and shaking hands. Somers’s parents were there as well, Glennworth and Grace Elaine Somerset. They kept their distance from the rest of the guests, turning in towards each other, drinks in hand, speaking in whispers.

  The more the guests talked to each other, the faster the kids ran and the louder they screamed. The louder the kids screamed, the louder the parents talked. Somers moved among the crowd, laughing, talking, mixing drinks for the adults, passing out beers. Hazard stayed near the fireplace in the family room, a Guinness in one hand, and put on his best party face.

  “Parties are supposed to be fun,” Somers whispered as he passed Hazard in another trip to the kitchen. “You’re not supposed to look like you’re having an anal fissure examined.”

  “I don’t look like I’m—”

  “Try a smile.”

  Hazard imagined biting Somers. Hard. He bared his teeth.

  “Not even close,” Somers muttered and continued into the kitchen.

  Two of the dads tried to approach Hazard, but both times the men seemed to reconsider and made sharp turns, veering back towards the safety of the herd. Hazard watched them go and felt some satisfaction. Maybe Somers was right. Maybe birthday parties really were supposed to be fun.

  For the next hour, as the kids ran and screamed and chased and shouted, in b
etween forays to pillage the food that Hazard had set out for them, Hazard spent his time studying the children. Children were, for the most part, a mystery to him. At first glance, they were just miniature adults, but he knew enough developmental psychology to realize that wasn’t true. They seemed to inhabit a world totally foreign to Hazard. What he remembered of his childhood had involved, for the most part, books and puzzles and intellectually-stimulating toys. He didn’t remember running around like he was in a gang of vandals.

  Most of the children, Hazard decided, seemed like appropriate playmates for Evie. All of the children participated in various forms of social reckoning and maneuvering, but they still played well together. Three of the children, though, bore watching: a stout, dark-haired boy who liked to take things away from other kids; a skinny boy, tall for his age, who liked to crash into groups of kids and ruin whatever they were doing; and a girl with dark pigtails who was a biter. She’d already marked half the kids. Three budding psychopaths, in Hazard’s book.

  When Somers came by again, Hazard caught his arm. “How are these children screened?”

  “What?”

  “Did you interview the parents before inviting them? Or did you accept the preschool’s psychological profiles?”

  “God, being with you is a magical carousel of pathology, isn’t it? What are you talking about?”

  “How did you pick which kids to invite?”

  “They’re Evie’s friends.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Children can’t have friends. They don’t have the emotional and intellectual development for the Aristotelian model of—”

  Somers wiped tiredly at his face, kissed Hazard’s cheek, and left while Hazard was still speaking.

  “—friendship,” Hazard finished, staring after his boyfriend and wondering why Somers was dodging his question.

  He didn’t have time to ask again, though, because a few minutes later, Somers directed everyone into the front room. Hazard watched the banner to make sure none of the adults accidentally knocked it loose, and then he waded into the herd of children to adjust party hats. Pigtails took advantage of his distraction to latch onto Hazard’s hand like she was trying to chew through bone.

  “I am so sorry,” a sloe-eyed woman said, breathing heavily through her mouth as she pried her daughter off of Hazard. “No, no, Letitia. That’s not nice.”