Chapter 13
Josh
God forbid me for saying this, but Ted’s not the brightest bulb in the package. I mean, I’m sitting right here, practically directly across from him on his own street. And does he notice?
No.
I’ve been waiting here since the wee hours of the morning, when I got extremely frustrated at his not returning my calls. To vent, I called that infernal podcast that has the ability to ruin my life and steal my freedom. I told Karl exactly what he needs to know, for all the good it’ll do me.
But even after that, my rage and frustration are off the charts. Why hasn’t Ted responded? He could have taken a second or two to shoot me a text, for Christ’s sake. Then I would have left him alone.
I figured it out after a while. He blocked me. Block away, you son of a bitch. I have other methods for keeping in close touch…
…Like the surveillance I’m doing right now.
Today is only beginning and it’s already quite sour. Like a sucked on and spit out Sweet Tart…
Aside from that infernal podcast closing in on me, I have other more worrisome people knowing too much and getting too afraid. This is not tenable.
The knock at my door at seven a.m. was a surprise. I was already up—since I’d never really been to bed—so I moved to my front door and peered through the peephole.
I didn’t recognize the person standing out there, consulting her watch.
She was middle-aged, dark eyed, with very short salt and pepper hair.
She wore black round oversize frames and blazer and slacks, both black, as was her blouse.
Definitely gives off a lesbian-goes-to-funeral vibe.
The only spot of color on her was a pin on her lapel that held some sort of red stone.
Garnet? Ruby? Even though I knew she couldn’t see into the peephole, I felt observed, as though she could.
Her irises were almost as dark as her ensemble.
“Who is it? How did you get in the building?” I called through the thick metal-core door.
She reached into her pocket, brought out a slim leather case, and opened it to reveal her detective’s badge. “Detective Aubrey Gordon, Chicago Police Department. I need to speak with you, Mr. Kade. It won’t take long—just a few questions. Could you open the door, please?”
Shit.
I complied, peering out at her with the dourest expression I could muster. I’m sure it broke her heart. “What’s this about? I have to get to work soon.” A lie. I didn’t plan on returning to work for many moons.
Although I’d opened the door, I didn’t invite her in. “Make this quick. I have a meeting downtown in an hour. I’ll be lucky if I make it on time even if I leave right this very moment.”
She pursed her lips and gave my attitude a look loaded with disdain.
She might as well have said, “I don’t give a damn about you or your schedule.
It will take as long as it takes.” What she really said was, “Could we step inside? It might be easier to talk if we can sit.” The corners of her lips turned up in what might generously be identified as a smile.
“That may be. But I don’t have the time for a social call. Ask what you need to and let me get on my way.”
Her mouth opened and then closed. Maybe she wasn’t used to being challenged.
“Okay. Have it your way.” One of the neighbors, Vic D’Angelo, an aging former grocer, passed me on his way down the hall with a trash bag in his hand. He eyed me and didn’t say hello. He kept turning his head as he progressed down the corridor, probably dying to know what was up. Fuck him.
“Are you sure you want to stay out here? Where it’s so—public?” Gordon asked, her gravelly voice tired and fed up. “Inside is more private.”
“Yes. Yes, it is. Now, what do you need to know, Ms. Gordon? I have nothing to hide—from you or my neighbors.”
And she proceeded, in a louder-than-needed voice, to explain she was there about a cold case from a decade ago.
Of course, I was aware of which cold case and what had prompted her to take a new look at it.
But I didn’t let on. “Oh? I can’t see how I could help with anything from that long ago.
” I softened my demeanor a bit, replacing it with a bland and, I hoped, innocent countenance.
She proceeded to ask me lots of questions—many of which I’d been through before, all those years ago—when Reggie passed away.
I hope I exhibited the appropriate amount of bafflement.
I claimed to know nothing about Bailey’s podcast when she brought that up.
I answered her quickly, wasting no words.
I repeated my story from then. At the end of the ten-minute interview, she took out a card from the other side of her badge case and handed it to me, saying the usual, “If you think of anything else…”
I shook my head at the memory and continued to stare out at the apartment buildings lining Fargo Avenue.
I expected Ted would show up, sooner or later.
He’d either come out of the front door or, more likely in my opinion, enter it.
I had steeled myself for the fact that he might not be alone.
I mean, gay men are so fickle, hopping from one dick to another like there’s no cost involved, like there’s no such things as STIs, or dignity.
I know different, but I also know how hard, damn hard, it is to find one single gay man who’s not a whore or a whore waiting to happen.
Ted’s no different. I hate to say it, because I still love him so much. But I’ve gotten accustomed to being disappointed. Disappointed? Hell, how about having my heart not only broken, but ripped to shreds?
Even though I’d braced myself for seeing him with another man, I was shocked to see who the other man was.
Man, small world.
I slid down in the seat of my non-descript black Toyota Prius when they emerged from his building—carrying a cat carrier and garbage bags. Jesus! Not only was he betraying what I thought we’d had, but it appeared as though he might be moving in with Karl.
I’d give Ted a bit of credit if he’d looked my way. If he’d spotted me, that would equalize things in a weird sort of way—make this a fair fight. But as I said, he’s not too bright. He missed me, right before his eyes. If I’d have been a snake, I’d have bitten him.
I shook my head. My gut woke up and started churning. The little man inside my head with the icepick began to apply pressure behind my left eye. Sweat popped up on my forehead, the palms of my hands, and trickled down my back. I could barely swallow.
Even though I’ve come to understand that a gay man I can trust is about as rare as the proverbial hen’s teeth, I still clung to a little hope that Ted would be different. He did seem different, at least until he heard that damn podcast.
But he wasn’t. Isn’t. And he compounds the betrayal by hooking up with that monstrous twink—my arch nemesis. Except he’s not a twink, but an older man trying to look young by, who knows, bleaching and perming his hair. I bet he starves himself too to maintain that ‘boyish’ figure.
I hate him.
I hate them both.
They open up the red hatchback and load it up. I wait as they get inside and drive off. Wait a couple more minutes…
And then I follow…
I’m not going to be ignored, Ted.
*
I don’t have to stay out of his view for long, not that Ted’s that observant anyway, as we established.
I follow him down Fargo, toward the lake.
Then we take a right. Within five minutes or so, a lot less if it weren’t for so many damned traffic lights at just about every corner, Karl turns left off of Sheridan Road and drives back toward the lakefront.
He backs into a space in the beach parking lot there, which is opposite a yellow brick courtyard apartment building.
Is this Karl’s place? I wouldn’t know. I tried to find Karl, tried hard, but his personal information is closely-guarded, which isn’t fair. Seems I have a right to confront my accuser.
I pull to the curb on Sheridan. I don’t want to get too close and providence is telling me this sought-after spot being available is one of those meant-to-be occurrences.
A gift from the gods. I may not be close, but I have a good view.
I slouch low in my seat and watch as the doors open on the little red SUV.
I feel a certain deadness as I watch them.
I see only one thing—a happy couple. Ted and I were never like they appear to be, not really.
He made it clear early on in our fledgling relationship that two was not a magic number.
I would never be enough, not for him. He proved that by dragging that horny couple into our lives.
I could tell right away that both of them—whatever the hell their names were—only had eyes for Ted.
They clearly had designs on getting him, or maybe even both of us, into bed.
I wasn’t surprised. Disappointed, maybe, but not surprised.
I should have known this would happen. It’s most likely Karl’s revenge on me for killing his brother, Reggie. He’ll steal the man I thought I was in love with, just like—to his eyes—I stole his brother.
There, I said it. Although I won’t admit to murder, I will admit I took Reggie away.
But I was trying to do the kid some good—free him from the chains of his addiction and promiscuity.
And then Reggie was killed. Sad to say, and few would seriously argue with me, he deserved it.
I can admit this much, at least to myself.
His death was justified, or—if not justified—at least rationalized.
One who puts his hands into the fire must expect to get burned, right?
I’d given him chance after chance after chance to rehabilitate himself, to become the decent guy I knew he could be.
Yet he didn’t know the meaning of the word fidelity.
He’d cuckolded me more times than I could count.
And besides, if he hadn’t been murdered, he would have killed himself sooner or later.
I simply couldn’t take it anymore. When I came down with gonorrhea for the second time in our relationship, and I’d been with no one else, I knew I had to get rid of him—for my own personal health.
Really, it was a kind of self-defense. I’d followed him too and watched him go into the bathhouse on Halsted, Steamworks, more than once.
Guys don’t go to that place for polite conversation and a cup of tea.
No, that place is a hotbed, pun intended, of sexually-transmitted infections and promiscuity.
Not surprising. The two go hand-in-hand.
I planned on breaking up with him the next day.
But then someone took that option away…
That boy was rotten to the core, despite the goofy, charming exterior.
His brother was in deep denial. His killer did Karl, and his whole family, a favor.
Murder in an alley isn’t the most dignified way to die, but at least Karl was spared from seeing his brother dying in some bathhouse room, veins full of meth, ass full of come.
And now Karl has chosen the one man I love to try and nab as his own.
I won’t stand for it. I can’t.
I exit the car, keeping as far back as I can to follow them. I walk slowly, trying to look nonchalant, as they make their way across the small beach-access street, laden down with the cat carrier and garbage bags. I hang back a few minutes, knowing their progress will be slow.
I make a mental note of what door they go in. There were six entrances to choose from, so the choice was important. I take out my phone and take a quick shot of the doorway, with its number clearly visible. I don’t want to risk forgetting.
Alas, I can’t follow them in. That would blow my cover completely, even if I could sneak in behind them. But I have this little lover’s nest, this hiding place, whatever the fuck it is, narrowed down enough.
I’ll come back. I have to… I’m not going to be ignored, Ted.