Page 15 of Torch Songs

“It was the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever done.”

Martin smiled like the sun through the fog, and together they started working, quiet in the office until the next customer came in. Martin took care of them without a word of complaint.

Say Yes to Heaven

I’M SORRY—I won’t be able to come to Bodega Bay this weekend. Don’t give up on me, okay?

Tad’s finger hovered over Send. He paused, put the phone back in his pocket, then took it out again, pulled up the text, and erased the last bit.I’ll try next weekend, I swear.

God. That was worse. And not honest.

Please don’t give up on me. I’ll see you next weekend.

And he was going to press Send… going to press Send….

“Jesus, kid, shit or get off the pot, fish or cut bait. Shit, get off the pot, cut some bait, and go fish. This is killing me here. Are you going to text her or not?”

Startled, Tad pressed Send in sheer reflex and tried not to claw at the screen and moan, “Come back!”

Since that wasn’t an option, he glared at Chris in the confines of their department-issue SUV. They had the window down in deference to the temp in the mideighties, and he wasstillsweating. He glanced up at the apartment, and no, his suspect hadn’t moved.

“Goddammit,” he muttered.

“What’s the matter?” Chris asked, some compassion seeping into his voice. “You afraid she’ll spook?”

Tad sent him another glare, and then realized the obvious thing, which was that after a year, Chris still thought he’d be texting “her.”

Shit.

“What makes you think it’s a girl?” he asked. “It could be my sister.”

Chris shook his head. “You get a different expression on your face when you’re texting April. Your brow gets all scrunchier, and you get this look like a soldier going into battle. This is… it’s different. It’s like you’re afraid of being gutted like a fish, but you still want to swim.”

“You are confusing me with fishing metaphors,” Tad evaded, smiling a little becauseCloudy with a Chance of Meatballshad been one of April’s favorite movies in middle school.

Chris cocked his head. “No, it’s definitely a girl”—and apparently reading Tad’s microexpressions— “no, wait. Boy?” He was asking, but not like it was a bad thing. Like he was checking.

“You’re a really good detective,” Tad said sourly, waiting for… for anything. He’d really loved working with Chris this last year, and he hadn’t seen or heard anything that would indicate this would be a problem. But you never knew. Just because Castro supported Jackson Rivers and Ellery Cramer, the legal defense/PI team that had worked so hard to defend the innocent and root out corruption in their area, didn’t mean he wanted to actuallyworkwith a gay man.

But Chris just rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m such a good detective I’ve detected you haven’t seen anybody in a year. Go me. So, boy? Nonbinary? Transhuman?”

Tad’s eyes grew wide. “Wow. Uhm, boy. Aren’t you, uhm, progressive.”

Another eye roll. “Please. I’ve spent the last few years getting daily liberal lessons from my children. Believe me, nothing is more disdainful than a teenager who thinks you’re not liberating like you should be. It’s terrifying. I mean, I’ll be honest. I have no idea what nonbinary means. But you know what? It is no fucking skin off my nose to respect someone’s pronouns. It’s like I prefer to be called Chris, and notChristopher and not Topher and not Christoph. But if I wanted to be Topher, then I’d expect you to call me Topher. If someone’s not feeling the gender thing, then they’re a they. Making that a scary thing would make me the weakest, most cockless wonder on the planet. So, now that you know my politics, who is it? He/she/they? I need a name here or my wife is gonna start fixing you up.”

Tad laughed softly. “It’s a he,” he murmured. “But… but he’s skittish. Tell your wife I don’t need a fix-up, but I may need some ice cream and a weepy movie when it doesn’t work out.”

“I could take you out for a beer and pour you onto my couch,” Chris offered. “I mean, that is the traditional male remedy for heartbreak.”

“Don’t drink much.” Tad shrugged. “Ice cream and a weepy movie or you’ll have to know I’m breaking my heart in my shitty apartment, alone.”

“I’ll take it,” Chris said. “It’s a hard bargain, but I’ll take it. Now tell me why he’s skittish?”

Tad grimaced, looking at his phone again. “Well, he’s a musician with a day job, so part of it is he’s busy. Like, he texts me from the john at work because his day job is not rainbow-flag friendly. I, uh, saw him perform about a month ago, actuallytalkedto him last week, and I was going to go see him again on Sunday, you know, since our workshop was canceled and we’ve got Monday morning off, but….”

“Augh! We caught a hot one,” Chris muttered, scanning the apartment complex they were staking out. Their guy was supposedly in there, doingallthe drugs, and Chris and Tad were supposed to keep his sidepiece from going in to see him, since his wife and kids were in protective custody. They didn’t have a warrant yet, but when they did, they were arresting him for shooting a night clerk in the corner convenience store. Caughtdead on tape and identified by several of his ex-coworkers, the guy had danger written all over him.

“Yeah,” Tad said in resignation. “We caught a hot one. I just… I was looking forward to seeing him. I don’t want him to think I’m blowing him off or—”

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