Page 49 of Under Cover
Garcia simply nodded, but inside he was doing backflips.
A day. Maybe they’d spend it in bed; maybe they’d spend it picking out curtains. He didn’t really care. He wanted to spend it with Crosby and maybe make the man feel at home.
Fly by Night
TOBY TRIEDnot to look hurt when most of Crosby’s department showed up to move him crosstown.
“Man, I know it wasn’t a picnic for you,” Toby confessed while helping Crosby throw all his clothes into trash bags, the better to stow over the gun safe in the back of the department issue. “But I really enjoyed having you here.”
Crosby grinned at his roommate, remembering the times Toby had gone to hide in Crosby’s room when his own party had gotten too big for the once shy honors student.
“You’re gonna have to learn to kick people out now,” he said. “I mean, I’ll come over to do it for ya, but I’m sayin’, you can’t use me as a shield anymore.”
Toby hid his face in his shoulder. “Man, you could see right through me!” He gave a furtive look behind him, into the main part of the apartment, where even now there were three or four people crashing on his couch or curled up on the floor watching his big screen. “Could you maybe kick everybody outnow? I mean, you’ll be gone, I’ll be here alone. The thought’s giving me a boner!”
Crosby laughed softly and dodged out of the way as Garcia swooped in. “Oh good,” Garcia told him, looking at the garbage bags. “More jeans and shit to go under the leather jacket. I’m all aflutter with your wardrobe choices.”
“The leather jacket makes it all look good,” Crosby said with dignity, and Toby laughed softly and tugged Crosby even further out of the activity.
“Leave the bed!” Garcia told Gideon Chadwick and Joey Carlyle. “I know it’s new, but I’ve got a decent one in my spare room!”
Yeah, Crosby wasn’t touching that with a barge pole. Instead he let Toby bring him into his own room, which was surprisingly neat, a wooden queen-sized pedestal in one corner, a small conversation pit by the window, and an en suite bathroom.
“Hey,” Toby said softly. “Judson?”
“Yeah?”
“Look, I know this isn’t something you want people to know about, but I was there, in college, remember?”
Crosby’s face flamed. Yeah. Toby had been away with his parents when Crosby had his first one-nighter with a guy—a cheerleader, actually, athletic as hell and out and proud, and willing to walk Crosby through his embarrassment and keep Crosby’s little bisexual secret. Stevie had been leaving their dorm room, obviously debauched and proud of it, when Toby had gotten back and seen him.
He’d taken one look at Crosby, still climbing out of bed and lookingverysatisfied but also terrified, and said, “What happens in the dorm roomstaysin the dorm room,” and that’s the way things had stayed.
“Yeah,” Crosby muttered, knowing where this was going and not sure how to stop it.
“Just….” Toby looked around, his ugly/cute countenance contorted with worry. “Be careful, man. This guy—I remember him visiting when you were laid up. He seems like a good guy. I’ll have faith that he’s a good guy. But I know what you’re up against. Be careful.” He gave a flutter of a smile. “The last two years, like I said, I know it was rough on you, and my place was a complete and utter circus, but you’ve always been there for me, man. I hope I was able to be there for you, just a little.”
Like that, two years of Toby sneaking into his room to talk, of Toby confiding his dreams and his hopes for his career, for someday finding a girlfriend who was all about being real and not about Toby’s success, for someday moving out of the city to a suburb, coming in on the weekends to perform—all of that, as well as watching movies and eating takeout, often in Crosby’s room while the party raged outside.
“You were the best,” Crosby said, meaning it. “Man, I showed up here, and I had no place to land. None. You were here, and I had a friend and a place to keep the rain off. It meant the world.” He grimaced. “Like you said, not optimal for my profession but, you know. You really are the greatest guy in the world.”
Toby grinned at him, his eyes a little shiny, and Crosby engulfed him in a tight hug, remembering how strange this city had been after leaving his little cop-centric suburb in Chicago, where he’d lived with his parents. Toby had taken him on “field trips,” introducing him to the subway system, to the good places to eat, to the good bars for drinks, the ones for music, the ones for hookups. Crosby could admit it now that he was leaving: One of the things that had taken him so long to go was that Toby, for all the hectic noise of his apartment, had himself been a bastion of kindness against a scary new sitch.
The hug ended before it could get awkward, and Crosby went back into his bedroom, grimacing at the new bed and remembering that Garcia wasn’t kidding. He really did have a good one in the guest room.
“Hey, Garcia,” he protested, going to the closet. “I’ve got some nice sheets and a comforter and shit!”
“Fine,” Garcia muttered. “Would it kill you to buy a color? I mean, navy blue alone doesn’t count.”
“What about navy blue and brown striped,” Crosby retorted sourly, holding up the sheets.
“That sort of attitude will get you a floral print,” Garcia replied smartly, and Manny Swan, who was helping Carlyle carry out Crosby’s supremely comfortable and built for someone “big and tall” stuffed chair, grunted in affirmation.
“Concede now,” he said. “People who like color always win.”
Crosby laughed softly and booty-bumped Gideon out of the way so he could take the other side of the chair.
“He was the one having trouble!” Gideon complained, his long, thin frame unfolding as Crosby took the weight.
