Page 7 of Fish in a Barrel
“Yeah.” Ellery tried to suppress a shudder. He went every year. Halloween themed, subtly ironic costuming was required. There was a cloaked undercurrent of homophobic bigotry that permeated this particular event every year. Ellery couldn’t put his finger on it except to say any costume that was considered in any way “gay” was given a lot of unwanted attention. He and Jackson had been new the year before, and Jackson hadn’t been doing well on a lot of fronts. Ellery had skipped it then, but Jackson was right. He couldn’t afford to this year.
“Bring Jade,” Jackson said. “She can dress as Sister Night, you can go as Doctor Manhattan—you’ll cause quite a stir.”
Ellery blinked once to try to remember who those characters were, and then again in horror at the implications. “It’s a funny joke, Jackson, but the minute somebody figured out what it meant, Jade and I would be in very real danger.” Because, of course, those two characters, who did mostly good, had been nearly killed by a psychotic police department on the ultimate power trip.
“You’re only saying that because you’d have to go naked… and painted blue,” Jackson chided, and Ellery fought the urge to sock his arm like a little kid.
“Iwilltake Jade,” Ellery said, pondering it. “But I think we can skip the costuming that will irritate the entire police force. We’ll have to think of something. What will you be doing?”
“Well,tonight,” Jackson said thoughtfully, “I’m going to be tracking down the actual suspect. Arizona was right about that. Henry and I have some leads, but I want to be able to subpoena his ass into the courtroom tomorrow. If I have to pound down his door in the middle of the night and truss him up like a turkey, I’m going to have that guy in custody when we need him.”
“You’resureHenry can help you with that?” Ellery clarified. “Doesn’t he have classes?”
Henry had come to them for help proving himself innocent of murder in early June. Fresh out of the military—and out of the closet and an abusive relationship to boot—Henry had been a surly handful when they’d first met. But Jackson knew how to find the wounded human in the most vicious of animals, and when he and Henry had been done with each other, they had somehow become friends and work partners. Henry was as physically fearless as Jackson, but he also had caution, pounded into him by years of active duty. Ellery would feel alotbetter if Henry was going with Jackson.
“Yeah,” Jackson nodded. “Henry’s free. Lance is working a double again, and Henry hates being bored. And the little shit is super smart too, for all his ‘I’m just a dumb young country boy’ schtick. He’s getting As, and according to Galen, he’s not even studying. Asshole.”
Ellery rolled his eyes. “You take classes for fun,” he reminded Jackson. “You could probably be a lawyer by now, but you keep insisting you don’t want to. I think you like to lord all that knowledge over other lawyers who try to talk down to you, but what do I know?”
“Heh heh heh heh.” Jackson’s evil laugh told Ellery everything he’d guessed was spot-on true. Well, the man did have his quirks. “And speaking of Galen,” Jackson murmured, “ishegoing to this policeman’s ball or benefit or circle jerk or whatever?”
When Henry had walked in their door asking for help, Galen had been the irritated friend of Henry’s older brother who had herded him in with a stick. Galen—a property attorney from Florida—was in recovery from addiction after a horrific motorcycle crash. He’d come to California to be with his boyfriend, the owner/director of Johnnies, a pornography studio that operated out of Sacramento, and he’d fit into Ellery and Jackson’s little start-up law firm seamlessly.
Before Ellery had met Jackson, he might have judged all of them: Henry for staying in the closet, Henry’s brother for working in porn, Galen’s boyfriend for filming it, and even Galen, the consummate Southern Gentleman, for his addiction to oxy. But one of the side benefits of watching Jackson accept people without judgment was that Ellery had not denied himself a friend and business partner as sharp and as kind as Galen Henderson, and not beating Henry to death minutes after meeting him had turned out to be a plus as well.
But Galen—as brilliant as he was in the courtroom—did not suffer fools gladly, and it showed in his lack of political clout in the city.
“Galen wasn’t sent an invitation,” Ellery said, grimacing. “And I thought of asking him to come with me if you couldn’t, because he deserves the chance to make contacts, but he said, rather pointedly, that I of all people should know why those aren’t the contacts he should be making.”
Jackson chuckled. “He’s got a point. I mean, yes, it’s good to have contacts in the police department and the DA’s office, but if we don’t attract criminals, we don’t get paid.”
“I’m fully aware of that,” Ellery replied. “I merely thought he’d be a fun friend to go with. What are you doing again? Tracking down the actual perpetrator for Ezekiel’s crime is on the agenda for tonight. Are you sure you can’t come if you get that done?”
Jacksonhmmed in his throat as they approached the last crosswalk to their office, a converted Victorian on F Street, painted dark gold with forest-green trim and surrounded by hundred-year-old trees dropping leaves in the crisp wind.
“C’mon,” Jackson ordered, pulling his hands out of his pockets so he could latch on to Ellery’s fingers, lacing them firmly together with his own. “Let’s go.” Together they hustled across the street and down the sidewalk toward their office building right when the skies, building gray during their walk, opened up and began pattering rain on their heads.
“Shit!” Ellery complained. “I’m going to have to steam both our suits tonight!”
Jackson laughed outright, still running, careful not to let his leather-soled shoes slide on the fallen leaves as they grew wet from the rain. He held Ellery’s hand the entire time as they crossed lawns of other businesses—large converted houses like theirs, set back from the road with family-style lawns and walkways—until they saw their own walkway and turned, the clatter of the rain on the leaves growing louder and louder, like the footsteps of a pursuing god.
They paused for breath underneath the thruway that connected the original part of the offices to a more modern part and also provided an overhang for covered parking.
The thruway wasn’t safe at night, and Ellery needed to have Henry power wash it twice a month to purge it of the smell of used wine. But today it was relatively clean, and nobody was seeking shelter in the semiprivate darkness, and as they drew to a stop, breathless and laughing, Ellery had a sudden wish for the two of them to simply go home. They could leave Jackson’s vehicle and drive Ellery’s Lexus through the rain-drenched streets, and then they could change into their soft pajamas and sit in front of the television with some wine, pet the cats, and allow themselves to be lulled and cocooned by the sound of the rain. They might even make love, but mostly he’d have this beautiful, laughing man safe under his own roof, and tomorrow would be a certainty and not a leap of faith.
Ellery gazed at Jackson, his mouth parted, halfway to begging for a night of quiet, a night of peace, when Jackson lowered his head and captured Ellery’s mouth with his own and all thoughts of speech fled.
Intoxicating. Every time. His kiss rushed through Ellery’s bloodstream, more potent than any drug, even adrenaline, and his taste sent need blossoming in Ellery’s chest.
Ellery returned the kiss, hands on Jackson’s hips, pulling them tighter, groin to groin, and Jackson’s fingers, biting into his shoulders, were the only thing keeping him from losing all common sense and dragging Jackson to the car.
Ellery was so lost, so caught up in the moment, that when Jackson tore their mouths apart and rested their foreheads together, he felt an almost physical pang of loss.
“Jesus, Counselor,” Jackson panted. “You go to my head like nothing else.”
Come home with me and let’s fuck like bunnies and forget the world is a frightening place that has almost taken you from me more times than I can count.
“Same,” Ellery said weakly, his heart pounding out a completely different tattoo. “I don’t want to let you go.”
