Page 92 of Reinventing Cato
He was almost back home when the phone rang. It startled him enough that he knocked it off the seat, so he had to pull over. By the time he’d stopped, so had the phone. If it wasn’t Devan or Vigge, he was going to freak out. But the freak-out was unnecessary.
“Hi,” Vigge said.
“I was driving. Sorry. I had to pull over.”
“Did you change your mind about coming into the station?”
“No. I came in and spoke to a DC Derek Harmon, then I left. I didn’t mention you. I didn’t want you to get trawled in and asked awkward questions.”
“Such as?”
“Do you make me lie in the wet spot? Is your dick really nine inches?”
The laugh at the other end of the line improved Cato’s mood.
“My brother and his boyfriend are coming down to take my parents to the concert on Wednesday. I told Devan what’s been happening. He’s going to tell Mum. I think they need to know.”
“Where are you now?”
“Close to home.”
“Oh.”
Cato groaned. “Don’t sayohlike that.”
Vigge laughed. “You’d preferooohhhhhh?”
“Obviously.”
“I checked your list of names.”
“Oh. Hear the difference in the sound? Thatohwas—I don’t know if he’s going to give me good news or bad.”
“Of those people I could find, none have committed any offences. The only one that I was surprised to find nothing on was Sam. 137 million hits for Sam Thompson. Not helped by there being a celebrity of that name, though I thought I’d find something on your Sam. Do you know where he used to live?”
“No. Should I ask?”
“Only if you can do it subtly. If it did happen to be him, you don’t want to let him know you’re on to him.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Right. Just… Be careful, okay. I don’t want to lose you, not now I’ve found you.”
Cato’s heart jumped. “Me neither.” And he wasn’t just thinking of Vigge, but himself as well. He liked this new version of himself. He’d like the new him even more if there were no issues. But then, if there hadn’t have been, maybe the new him wouldn’t have emerged.
~~~
For the next two days, Cato was kept busy with meetings, planning seminars, and deciding on his contribution to that week’s colloquium—the first of the year and always at four o’clock on a Thursday. Along with that he had to do his doctorate work and fit in violin practice. It was late on Wednesday when he registered he’d not asked Vigge if hewantedto meet his family.Damn it, it’s much too soon.But it would be rude if he said nothing. In the end, he sent him a text.
Do you want to be introduced to my family? Okay if you don’t. Wouldn’t normally inflict them on anyone. Have NEVER inflicted them on anyone. Either way, we can meet up somewhere after. I know a warm cosy spot. Tight fit. Damp. Enticing. You know the address.
The response came fast.I’ll meet them.
Cato was pleasantly surprised, but just to be sure, he texted backAs my boyfriend or just a friend? Or really want to freak them out and say my psychiatrist?The moment he’d pressed send, he wondered if that was a joke too far.
It took longer for the reply to come, but the answer wasBoyfriend.
He set off for the concert with a smile on his face, well before Sam and Pedro would need to head out. He wasn’t usually nervous before a concert, so he put the butterflies in his stomach down to everythingbutplaying his violin, and left tickets for Devan and Jonty with the box office. As he turned the corner in the hallway that led to the dressing room, he saw Vigge leaning against the wall. Cato gave a quiet whoop and hurried to his side. He checked there was no one looking, then kissed him. He’d only intended a quick kiss, but Vigge wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in tight.
