Chapter 16 #2
Other than threats to out him, some of what Wayne had said veered right into the criminal category, but legal or not, I wanted to protect Callum. I couldn’t do that if I didn’t know what the hell was going on. “I promise. Not without your permission.”
“Okay. Right. So, you remember the game against the Cardinals on the ninth? We lost because I let in a couple of soft goals.”
I couldn’t say I remembered the details, but I got the picture. “Go on.”
“Uncle Wayne showed up the next night, outside the arena with this Mr. Smith. Smith said he had a proposal for me, but I blew him off because any proposal from a slimeball friend of my uncle’s is a bad idea.”
“What did you say exactly?”
“I don’t even remember. I ran off, headed home. Figured that was the end of it.” He shoved his fingers into his hair, fisting and tugging at the red strands. “Fuck.”
“I take it there was more.”
“Yeah. Smith called me when I was at your house after the movie. He said he’d put money in my account after that bad loss. It would look like a payoff. If I didn’t agree to lose for him when he told me to, he’d snitch to my team that I already had.”
“That’s not good.”
“You think?”
“How much money?”
“Two thousand. I went straight to the bank to see if I could return it, or find out where it came from. If there was a record. But they said it was a cash deposit, made at an ATM with a valid cash card for my account. Only Grandpa and I have those.”
“There might be fingerprints on the money.”
“Not anymore.”
“Sure, right. Photo evidence from the ATM, then, showing it wasn’t you making the deposit. Banks keep that footage for at least six months.”
“I asked, but they said it would take a subpoena to see it.”
“Well, yeah. They wouldn’t randomly let a customer view that data. But if you report this and we start an investigation, then we can ask a judge for a subpoena, should be easy to get.”
“No!” He stared at me. “I can’t tell anyone. As soon as the team finds out, I’m screwed. You think they’ll believe I didn’t throw that game? I couldn’t have fucked up in net worse if I had been trying.”
“All the more reason to report it now. Right away. Get a paper trail started.”
“Except, if the ATM was Uncle Wayne, all he has to do is say I gave the money to him to deposit. He’ll support Smith, not me.”
“Callum.” I wanted to hug him, but wasn’t sure if that would help. He vibrated with tension.
“No.” He scrambled to his feet. “No cops. I can’t risk it.”
“What else can you do?” I got up too, careful not to crowd him. “You have to—”
“I don’t have to anything.”
“You’re playing with fire. This isn’t some neighbour cheating at poker. It’s your duty to call in law enforcement. A real crime’s being committed—”
“Possibly by me. Is that what you mean? If I don’t stand up to them, if I give in and do what Smith wants, you’ll what? Arrest me? Throw me in jail?”
“Callum, no. You’re the victim here. At least, you are until you go along with them. What can they do to you that’s worse than breaking the law?”
“I don’t know.” He glared at me, breathing hard.
“You didn’t grow up with Uncle Wayne. You have no idea how good he is at finding the thing you’re scared of most, and making it happen.
I ran away at ten, because he convinced me that…
fuck, I don’t even know anymore. Some lie about how Grandpa never did the paperwork to adopt me properly, and if child services found me living with him, they’d haul Grandpa off to prison and stick me in foster care with parents who’d beat me.
Sounds stupid now, but I believed him. I was terrified they’d arrest Grandpa. ”
“God, that’s vile.” I would never understand how some people could be so cruel, just for the fun of it. “But you’re not ten now.”
“No. I’m an adult and I have adult problems. I’m this close—” He held up thumb and forefinger a millimetre apart.
“—to making the NAPH, to real money and a chance to get Grandpa out from under his debts. Uncle Wayne could fuck Grandpa and me over a whole bunch of ways. He’d do it, just for laughs, if there wasn’t money to be made. ”
“So let us help you. We can arrest him.”
“But that doesn’t shut his mouth. He’ll be even worse, out for revenge.
He’ll out me and make it sound dirty. He’ll make me seem like I’ve been taking bribes to throw games.
Yeah, Uncle Wayne might end up back in prison, but I’ll be flipping burgers while Grandpa’s store goes under. Hell, I might even get arrested.”
“I won’t let that happen.”
Callum stared at me. “You can’t promise that. Can you?”
I wanted to say yes, but I wouldn’t be in charge. His story about Mr. Smith was so believable, I couldn’t imagine the gaming folks would prosecute him, but there were assholes in every department. They might think he’d cooperate better with the threat of prison time hanging over him.
I’d been silent too long. Callum whirled away. “You should go.”
“Just because I’m trying to get you to do the right thing—”
“Ha. Right thing for a cop. Do you ever for one minute take the uniform off?”
The promise to say nothing was eating at me, which is why I snapped, “The last time I did that, people were being stuffed in shipping containers. You think a little sports betting is a big deal?”
“God, no. It could end my career, but it’s not a big deal. To you.”
“Be reasonable—”
Callum pivoted and punched the wall. The drywall gave under his fist, leaving a dent smeared with a trace of blood.
Callum stared at the damage, then raised his head to glare at me.
“Get out!” He pointed at the door, colour high in his cheeks.
“I’ll call you the next time I need someone to tell me to be fucking reasonable. Out!”
I wanted to grab him and shake him and tell him to wise up, or to check his hand and tell him he was a fool for hurting himself.
Which in the end had me turning on my heel and marching out the door.
Because I had no doubt, in that moment, if I laid hands on Callum in any way, even in kindness, he’d punch me too. We both needed to cool down.
I stomped across the lawn back to my house. Jos sat at our kitchen table with the debris of fast food scattered around him. He looked up from his phone as I barged in. “Did you talk to Callum?”
“Yes!” I snapped, then sighed. “Sorry. He’s… going through some things. He doesn’t want me hanging around while he thinks it through.”
“Oh.” Jos flipped a piece of wrapper between his fingers. “Is he going to come out, like, to the media?”
“Huh?”
“What he’s thinking about. If he dates you, would he have to come out?”
“Ah. No, this isn’t about being gay.” Other than Wayne’s threats to out him, which was the last thing Callum needed.
But him kicking me out was about me putting my cop hat on when maybe I should’ve stuck to the boyfriend hat.
My certainty that I’d been right was already fading.
“He needs time, so just leave him alone.”
“I don’t want him around anyway.” Jos shoved away from the table and ran up to his room. He’d left the debris of his dinner scattered around, but I couldn’t face making him come back down to clean up.
I sat in front of my congealing burger and put my face in my hands.
What now? I’d promised Callum to say nothing, but could I really sit back if Wayne blackmailed him into doing something he’d regret forever?
Maybe I could have Wayne picked up for a traffic violation.
Had he renewed his licence? Maybe he liked to drink and drive.
I scrambled for options, and knew I’d reached a new height of stupidity when lure him into a bar fight came to mind.
Shit. I wanted to protect Callum but I didn’t know how, and wasn’t sure I had the right anymore.
He told me to get out. That hurt, deep in my chest. Callum didn’t trust me to be on his side. I’d never met another man I even thought about sharing a life with, and now I’d screwed things up.
After scooping up the remains of the food and tossing it in the trash, I pulled out my phone. A glance toward the stairs sent me heading down to the basement, two levels of soundproofing between me and Jos. Then I called Olivia.
She picked up almost immediately. “Hey, Zeke, what’s up?”
“Got a question for you. Hypothetical.”
“All right. Shoot.”
“Let’s say I had a cousin. And that cousin swore me to secrecy and then told me they were thinking about committing a crime.
But only because they were being pressured into it.
Then, when I said they should cooperate with the authorities and let us help, they snapped my head off and kicked me out. What should I do?”
“I need more info than that. This crime. Is anyone going to get hurt?”
“No. Or, not directly. It’s a money crime.”
“Just a summary offense, or something indictable?”
I wasn’t sure how bad gambling crimes were considered. Probably there was a range. “Grey zone. It would depend on the prosecutor.”
“If your cousin does it, will you be disgusted with them and want nothing more to do with them?”
“I… don’t think so?” If Callum threw a game on purpose, he’d be a mess.
I wouldn’t abandon him. “They’re between a rock and a hard place, knuckling under to threats.
I feel for them. But they need to report it and let me help.
” I paced back and forth. “They don’t trust me.
I understand that, but I can’t just sit back and let this happen. ”
“So you’re going to report the crime yourself?”
“What? No, I…” I had to think for a moment.
Cheating was wrong, deliberately losing a game was unethical.
But the worst part would be the way following through would put Callum on the other side of a line— going from a guy you could trust to be honest when it mattered, to a guy you couldn’t.
Not just for me, or a future team, but I’d bet in his own head.
“I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do. ”
“Sounds like you need to figure that out before you talk to them again.”
“I don’t know if he’ll talk to me at all.”
Olivia hummed under her breath. “I can’t help you without more information, which you promised to keep secret, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I probably couldn’t anyhow, because this is an ethics question. There’s no single right answer. You have to decide who gets hurt and who gets helped by your choices, and then go for it. Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
“Zeke, are you and Callum doing okay?”
I blinked. “What? Why would you ask? We’re fine. I mean, we’re not really anything, but there’s no problem.”
“Uh-huh. If I can help, let me know. I like him. And Zeke? You don’t have any cousins.” She hung up.
Crap. I stuffed my phone away and paced some more.
Part of me wanted to march back over and demand Callum let me bring in the troops.
Except I had no doubt he needed time to cool down.
I could try to cut this disaster off at the pass and report the potential cheating myself, but at best, the Gaming Commission would wait till after Callum threw the game to swoop in.
Or they might reject the report as too penny ante to bother with, given their focus on organized crime and gangs.
That wouldn’t help Callum, just land him in shit.
All I could think of was to watch Wayne. Except Callum took the truck keys back, so it would be tricky to find Wayne. And I was working one more full day shift before I had time off. I didn’t have the leisure to wander around Vancouver tracking down a low-life ex-con.
I forced myself to stop, breathe, evaluate. I wasn’t the hothead who punched walls— and damn, I hoped Callum hadn’t hurt himself. I was the guy with an angle, with a plan. Starting day after tomorrow, I’d have four days off work. I’d figure something out.
On that determined note, I went up to the main level and finished cleaning the kitchen. Nothing on TV caught my attention, but I lazed on the couch, flipping channel to channel, until I dropped off between house-flippers and a music documentary.
In my restless sleep, I pursued Callum across fields and down hallways. Something bad was waiting for him, but I couldn’t get close enough to warn him. I shouted, but he kept jogging toward that ominous door at the end of the hall—
“Zeke! Wake up! Zeke!”
I snapped to alertness, bolted upright on the couch and grabbed toward my hip where no weapon was buckled. Jos stood over me, looking down. The timer had shut off the lamp while I slept, leaving the room dark, and a street scene flickered across the TV at low volume.
I counted to five and managed a smile for my brother. “Hey, what’s up?”
“You were shouting. In your sleep. ‘Don’t!’ and ‘Wait!’ You kind of screamed.”
“Ah. Sorry.” I rubbed my eyes. “Bad dreams. Go back to bed.”
“You’re really okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“I didn’t touch you. You said not to, if you had a nightmare.”
“You did just right.” I pushed to my feet, found the remote, and clicked off the TV. “Come on, we’ll both go up to bed. But thank you. I was glad to be woken up at that point.”
“I figured.” He slanted a look up at me. “I wasn’t really scared, you know. I just didn’t want you to feel bad.”
“Thanks.”
Jos shrugged. “You’re the only brother I’ve got.” He turned and jogged up the stairs, leaving me to follow. I heard his door close. Well, the day had been shit, but I was going to take those few words to mean Jos and I were still doing okay. That was worth a lot.
The echo of my nightmare lingered as I made sure the house was locked up tight, then climbed the stairs.
I wished Callum was sleeping here in the room that had become his.
I could go tap on his door, make sure he was safe.
Or better yet, I wanted Callum right beside me, where I could touch him and protect him, explain properly…
The ache in my chest wasn’t just for the twisted fictions my brain had came up with— Callum in danger and no way to help— but for real life, where he was facing shit without me, and my house was empty without him.
Let me help. I tried to beam the request across the empty space between us.
Call me. But my phone stayed silent, and it was way too late for me to text him, if he’d even wanted to hear from me.
I put myself to bed and spent the night amid fragmented dreams where the past and the present collided, and I woke desperately reaching for a man who was never there.