Chapter Five
Between sweeps of the windshield wipers, Cai scanned the blurry shadows inside Rooster’s Bar & Grill. There was a packed crowd at the bar and all the booths were filled. Was he about to embarrass himself in front of an audience of drunk sports fans?
Skittles, Pixy Stix, and a cheeseburger from Mickey D’s tumbled around in his gut, forming a nauseating lump. He wiped his clammy hands on his jeans until they were raw. He hated not knowing what might happen tonight.
When it came to Riley, Cai’s brain exhausted itself with possible reactions. Riley would be happy to see him. Riley would be angry he was in trouble again. Riley would drag him to some intimate corner and—
“Are you going?” Julian pushed at Cai’s shoulder.
With his mind racing through probabilities, Cai managed to answer, “Yes.” Then quickly added, “No? I don’t know.”
Anger seemed a likely response. Actually, he had only seen Riley angry in the last months they’d hung out together. Cai also seemed to be the one to instigate it somehow. Like it was his fault Riley wanted to kiss him but couldn’t.
Rachel leaned in between their seats. “Was this his idea?” She pointed a red, chipped nail at Julian.
“Yeah. And Father Wolff’s.” Cai checked the windows again and hiccuped. “It sounded like a good plan at the time.”
“I don’t get what’s supposed to happen,” she said.
“A friendly bar chat,” Julian answered. “Without a bunch of FBI agents or ‘evil security guards’”—Julian air quoted—“to drag him away for talking about hitmen. Or wearing that ugly hat, which is a far worse crime on humanity, innit. We’re here to make sure he doesn’t cock it up again. This time I do the talking. It’s a brilliant idea.”
“The idea that Riley needs a restraining order?” Cai pulled his necklace from under his shirt and rolled his fingertips along the metal beads. He cleared his throat and yet ended up hoarse. “I already went to see him today.”
“And told him nothing. You said we needed help, yeah?”
“Yeah.” They definitely needed help. “I just don’t know if Riley is the answer or will even be amenable to speaking with me. Sometimes, I make him...irritated.” When I’m in trouble. When he remembers he wants to kiss me.
“There isn’t anyone else. You said that.”
“Yes, but—” Cai gave up trying to explain that he was the only person who aggravated Riley, which made him more nervous, which somehow made Riley more irritated. Riley the Saint. Riley the ever-cool. Riley the unflappable. Unless Cai was within twenty feet.
“The priest said he’d make Mr. FBI reasonable.” Julian pocketed the car keys. “Let’s get it over with.”
“Be careful what you say, Julian,” Cai warned. “Don’t mention the Coles by name. As much as possible, refer to it as ‘the company’ or FSI. You start mentioning individual people and Riley will look for the motives we don’t want him examining.”
“Got it.” Julian grabbed his skull cap off the dash and shoved it on.
“You’re not going in without me.” Rachel stuffed her electric blue bangs under her fuzzy cap before climbing out of the car after Julian.
Cai took a deep breath and followed his friends across the street.
At least he would see Riley one last time—in court, for the restraining order proceedings.
* * *
Once inside, it took Cai four seconds to spot Riley sitting in the booth at the back of the bar. It wasn’t difficult. He was the only one in a suit as stiff and starched as his shoulders.
At least two dozen people stood between them, but all his attention focused on Riley’s mouth as he lifted a glass and swallowed its contents. The memory of that long-ago kiss came flooding back.
Fingers digging into his hips and yanking him close. Riley’s lips cold and tasting of orange juice. Heart cheering. Trying to breathe and afraid to at the same time, like an exhale would break the spell.
We could be this, Riley.
Julian said something, but Cai couldn’t hear over the roar of his pulse. He held the memory for a little longer and then let the noise of the bar filter in.
“Awkward,” Rachel sang.
“You two might have mentioned that we’d have this problem.” Julian looked around with a tepid smile.
“What problem?” Cai asked.
“Did you notice anything different about them and you?” Julian pointed at the room in a sweeping arc and then at Cai and Rachel.
“He means we’re white, Cai.”
“Um, okay?”
“No one else is.”
Cai took a second look. “Oh.” His frown deepened. They were also about forty years younger than most of the crowd. “Why is that important?”
“Remind me again,” Julian said. “Artists, they learn the concept of ‘blending in’, yes?”
Blending in? Julian looked like an underwear model, Cai stood nearly six foot four and, if she took off her hat, Rachel’s hair would resemble a troll doll. “I think that’s like expecting to hide ostriches in a chicken coop.”
Rachel removed her cap and drew the attention of nearly every patron nearby. “More awkward.” She put it back on.
“Which one is he?” Julian asked.
Cai lifted his lip and squinted at his roommate. “Um. There’s like six people here under the age of fifty. One of those is a priest and two are girls.” Rachel elbowed him and glared. “Women,” he corrected and put more space between himself and her jabby arms.
“What? You said he was older,” Julian said.
“Yeah, thirty, not old enough to be my grandfather.”
“He’s Captain Latin America over there.” Rachel pointed.
“Right. Let’s do this.” Julian drew fewer stares than Rachel as he shook the snow from his hat onto the scuffed wood floor.
“Just go over there and sit down?”
“What are you so afraid of? You said he was lovely.”
“He is. A lovely guy who is going to arrest me for stalking,” Cai said.
“How long have you been back?”
“Um...two months? Nearly.”
“And how many times have you gone to see him?”
“Once.”
“That isn’t stalking,” Rachel said.“It’s orgasm denial.”
Cai’s face glowed with heat. “I can’t go over there anyway. He’s not alone.”
“You knew he wouldn’t be alone.”
“Was only supposed to be Father Jeremy,” Cai said.
“Who’s the woman, then?” Julian asked. “Anyone important?”
“I think she’s an FBI agent. She was at the federal building. I don’t know how to work her.”
“I can’t ever watch another movie where the heroes are reporters or in the mafia,” Rachel muttered. “You two have ruined the sex appeal of those professions.”
“I’m not in the maf—” The words clogged in Cai’s throat as Riley stalked toward them.
He would paint that walk as a vortex of golds, with streaks of black and indigo whipping out to the edges of the canvas. That walk seized attention, sucked everyone into its wake. Patrons followed Riley with their eyes, heads turning, glancing over their shoulders as he passed by. Cai ached with the urge to kneel and press his lips—
Julian jumped in the second Riley got within arm’s reach. “Agent Cordova? I’m Julian Thompson.”
Riley shook the outstretched hand, his eyes tightening with confusion.
One fantasy. Cai’d like to finish just one fantasy today without Julian butting in.
“Whatever trouble you’re in, Nikolaj, tell me now. Once we involve Agent Marks, the whole of the FBI gets involved.”
Riley had never looked at him like he was a child who needed to be taken in hand. Cai hated it. “I-I haven’t done anything,” he said. He couldn’t stop the sideways glance or his heart from barreling into his throat as he uttered the lie.
“Not him. Me,” Julian said, unsubtly blocking Cai. “Can we have a chat?”