9-1-1 #2
“So,” Ernie said, looking up from the enchanted kitten, “I’m here because you did such a good job subbing in for me yesterday.
Crullers and Jason both came home for the weekend, and if I can get you some guaranteed pool time at Jason’s, I was hoping maybe you could sub for me today.
Brady could drive you there. Crullers and I could do some shopping in town like you did yesterday.
” Ernie batted his eyes. “Jason’s going to San Diego tonight to fetch Cotton, and they’re staying at a hotel because Jason’s one romantic motherfucker, and you can have the pool all this evening and tomorrow morning. Deal?”
Eric felt an absolute visceral longing in his stomach, thinking about swimming and then lying out in the sun—even if it was only in the low 70’s—and then swimming some more.
Suddenly he understood how Brady felt about the coffee.
“Certainly,” he said. “Would you mind….”
“Taking these guys to Cathair Acres?” Ernie asked pertly. “Never. I will never mind taking them, and I will run them by tonight if you like.” He turned to Brady and grinned. “Of course, if Eric’s here to let you in, you’re welcome to swim this evening too.”
Brady, to Eric’s private disappointment, didn’t return the grin.
“I’m afraid I’m working a long shift tonight, and another one tomorrow.
And while I don’t know who Jason and Cotton are, I’m going to assume Crullers is your boyfriend and you’ll all be banging like bunnies this weekend, and since I don’t know you that well, it sounds awkward as hell. ”
Eric busied himself pouring coffee and then fixing up a little creamer/sweetener tray to set in the middle of the table. After presenting it to his guests (and didn’t that sound overblown and pretentious in his little camper, no matter how luxurious), he bit the bullet and slid in next to Brady.
He caught a deep breath of Old Spice Swagger and some sort of mint shampoo and had to work at not moaning and shuddering in pleasure.
Holy hells, this guy smelled good.
“Nice shirt,” Brady said, eyebrows arched, like Eric was fooling nobody. It didn’t matter—Eric only need fool himself to keep Brady alive.
“You woke me up,” he said bluntly. “Would you have preferred me naked?”
Brady snorted. “Yeah, ’cause that would be a hardship.” He turned toward the platter of—ugh—deep fried strawberry dough with strawberry icing on top and selected one, inhaling appreciatively before he bit.
“Mmmffff….” He sighed through the donut, and Eric was horrified when he realized what he’d thought was his stomach cramping over strawberry donuts with strawberry icing was really, oh dear God, arousal!
His cock ached because this nice, albeit na?ve, policeman was eating a strawberry donut.
Trying to recover from his horror, he reminded himself that he’d been the one to come on to Brady the night before. But then you had dinner with him. You watched him be kind to killers like you.
You hoped.
“So,” he said, forcibly pulling his attention away from the semiorgasmic policeman next to him, “you made me strawberry donuts to bribe me?”
Ernie wrinkled his nose. “God no. I made strawberry donuts because Brady was here.” Ernie smiled at Brady, somewhat embarrassed. “I made another plate for you to take to your precinct. I’m afraid none of us are really big strawberry donut fans.”
Brady appeared blissfully engaged with his second donut, but in response to Ernie he took a swallow of black coffee and then gave Eric a semiadoring look. “You people are spoiling me,” he proclaimed and then asked what Eric had been trying not to ask.
“These must have taken hours—how did you know I’d be here?”
Ernie shrugged. “Lucky guess,” he said blandly, and Brady cocked his head.
Eric knew all of his interactions with Ernie were flooding his memories, and he was sure the same thing happened to Brady, who grimaced.
“Lucky guess,” he muttered. “Second question.” Carefully he wiped his mouth with one of Eric’s napkins and gazed longingly at the rest of the donut on the napkin in front of him. He wrenched his eyes away and peered at Ernie again. “Who’s all of us? All of us who don’t like strawberry donuts?”
“Ace and Sonny,” Ernie said guilelessly.
“Crullers, my boyfriend. Jason and Cotton—they live in the house next to us. And Jai, whom you’ve met, his boyfriend, George, who works at the hospital, and George’s friend Amal, who takes up one of their spare rooms. They live two houses down near the end of the cul-de-sac. ”
Brady blinked, and Eric could watch him do the math in his head. “Was this place trying to become Palm Springs?” he asked.
Eric laughed, although Ernie frowned, confused.
“After the eighties, Palm Springs became sort of a haven,” Eric told him. “And I’m new here. I have no idea.”
Ernie shot Eric a look that said, Coward and answered. “Not specifically for gay men,” he said. “But… well, how happy are you about ICE?”
“In my soda pop, super happy,” Brady said honestly. “In my communities, not so much.”
“Well, us neither,” Ernie said. “There’s a certain, uhm, kind of, uhm… uhm….”
“Bent,” Eric supplied helpfully, enjoying the double entendre.
“Sure,” Ernie said, rolling his eyes. “Let’s just say that any one of us could get beaten up in a honky-tonk bar for reasons that have very little to do with us being gay.”
“Except none of you that I’ve seen could get beaten up anywhere,” Brady said astutely.
Eric cocked his head, suddenly very intrigued. “George and Amal―” he began, and Ernie shrugged.
“Not fighters,” he agreed about the two nurses Eric had only met peripherally.
“But wily. And Amal was almost shipped off to a concentration camp or deportation camp or fucking death camp for standing up for a woman being sexually abused by an ICE agent, so he’s not a pennyweight in the resistance department.
” Ernie glanced at Brady. “Would you imprison him for that?”
“No,” Brady answered, but he sighed. “Although most of my station would.” His shoulders slumped, and he appeared disheartened.
“And back home, most of them would imprison him for having a name like Amal. I do know what you’re talking about, sort of.
However this cul-de-sac came to be, you’d rather it not come to the attention of law enforcement. ”
“That would be nice,” Ernie said. “Although Crullers and Jason have enough pull to put a stop to any harassment, it would be nice for them to not have to worry about it.”
“Pull as what?” Brady asked, and at that moment there was another knock at the door.
Eric got up to answer it, since Ernie still had control of the kittens, and he stared down from the camper doorway into a pair of soulful brown eyes belonging to a fit, handsome Black man that Eric was glad to be on the right side of.
“Club boy!” Lee “Crullers” Burton was in the middle of shouting, “you had better be about done in there—oh. It’s you.”
Eric nodded. Well, mostly on the right side. He knew that while Ace and Sonny had approved of him, this man and his superior, Colonel Jason Constance, had both been the most resistant to Eric’s arrival.
“It is my tuna can,” Eric told him dryly, and his reward was a flash of a knee-melting grin.
“I’m sorry—that was rude. My mother did raise me better.
He just told me he was going to drop off the donuts and ask if you could work his shift.
He didn’t mention the cop at your coffee table.
” As he spoke, Eric stood back and let him haul himself into the camper, which was now bursting at the seams with good-looking men, three of whom were nicely endowed with muscles and one of whom was apparently more psychic than the stars.
“Officer Brady Carnegie, Southern California Sheriff’s Department, Station House three. Nice to meet you.” Brady turned in the bench seat and extended his hand over the back of it. Burton shook his hand firmly, and to Eric’s surprise, gave his real name.
“Major Lee Burton, Special Forces,” he said. “How’d you find us here?”
Eric saw Brady swallow and felt compelled to jump in. “He was looking off of his balcony,” he said with a faint smile. “Saw our little parade last night. Wanted to know where all the cars disappeared to.”
Burton humphed. “We were that obvious?”
Brady shrugged. “Only because I’d just had dinner at Sonny and Ace’s.”
Burton’s speculation turned inward. “Alarms, Club Boy?”
“We’re breachable,” Ernie replied, frowning. “But I don’t know if we have time before the storm.”
The look Burton sent his boyfriend was not happy. “Great.”
Ernie shook his head. “They’d be useful,” he admitted, “but we’ll survive without them.”
Burton grimaced. “Medina, Daniels, and Briggs are on special assignment—they’re usually my go-tos for this sort of thing. It’s going to have to be me and Jason, and that’s only if nothing else shows up.”
“No promises,” Ernie said soberly, and Burton nodded once.
“God, I would love some specifics,” he muttered, then turned to Eric and Brady. “Remember this place is safe. Keep it safe. Christiansen, Jai moves out in twenty minutes. Carnegie—”
“I’ll be gone before you leave,” he said respectfully.
“I appreciate it.” Burton sighed and looked them both over. “But you’re welcome to use the pool tonight and tomorrow morning. Jason wanted to make sure everybody got lots of laps so he and Cotton could have it over the weekend.”
“I don’t think I’ll be—” Brady began.
“Pick me up from the service station,” Eric heard himself saying. “Company would be nice.”
Now Brady was the one who appeared hunted. Which was fine, Eric decided grumpily. Because Brady got his favorite donuts today, and Eric felt like he was due.
JAI DROVE him to the garage, and something about the other man’s demeanor made Eric feel as though his life wasn’t in imminent danger being in the vehicle.
“You got big plans for the weekend?” Eric asked, curious.