Chapter 9 #2
The mansion was located in a part of Smitsville that only people with deep pockets could afford. One of those pockets belonged to Boris Flynn, attorney at law. He was the sole owner of Flynn & Montgomery Law Services after his partner died in a suspicious car crash.
“What else do we know about Mr. Flynn?” I said, stretching my stiff legs.
“You mean except that he associates with criminals and he helped his partner die?” Jordan said dryly. “He’s a masochist. He likes to be dominated by beautiful women with an occasional golden shower.”
I chuckled. “Good for him.”
“He also announced that he would run for mayor.”
“A corrupt mayor? I can’t run away from those, can I?”
“What do you mean?” Jordan asked me.
“Because my father was one.”
He blinked. “No shit?”
“No shit.”
“What happened to him?”
“He died in prison.”
After I’d shocked him into silence, I looked at him. “What? Do you think I became the way I am because of my father?”
“Which way?”
“A jackass, a piece of shit, and everything else you think about me but won’t admit. God forbid it ruins your golden boy persona.”
Jordan’s eyes flashed in anger. “I resent that. First, I don’t think badly of you. Second, I’m not a golden boy.”
“You had an ideal childhood, you were an exemplary student, and your career was impeccable before you came to the LD. Yes or no?” I countered.
“Yes, but—”
“We couldn’t be more different if we tried, Jordan. It’s probably why we squabble from the day we met,” I said, yawning.
When he looked at me, it felt as if aliens were probing my brain with chopsticks.
“Did you get any sleep?” Jordan asked me a question I dreaded.
“Some,” I lied.
I didn’t want him to know that I needed him for that.
“It’s late,” Jordan said, glancing at the house. “I’ll keep watch. You can sleep if you want to.”
I looked at him sharply. “Which part about ‘some’ didn’t you understand?”
I didn’t need his pity either.
He rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
The perks of this little assignment? Jordan Slade’s presence. I got used to him in prison, so being away from him felt funny. I missed… looking at him. He also smelled awesome, so when he stretched, I found myself inhaling more deeply than necessary.
He noticed it because his eyes widened comically. “Are you sniffing me?”
I snorted. “No! What’s the matter with you?”
“Oh my God, do I smell bad?” he gasped, sniffing his armpits. “If I smell bad, I will kill myself.”
I chuckled. “You smell great. Relax.”
“How can I relax when you’re sniffing me?” Jordan growled. “Speaking of smells, your friend went overboard with her perfume, don’t you think?”
“Which friend?”
“Maria.”
His tone, fused with annoyance, made me smile. “You don’t like her. I knew it.”
“I don’t have an opinion of her,” Jordan said, glancing at me. “She’s beautiful, though. Right?”
I shrugged. “Sure.”
“I mean… is she like your type or something? Or not?”
“Whose type isn’t she, Jordan?”
“Mine.”
“Good for you.”
“So, what’s your type, then?” Jordan insisted.
“I don’t know,” I mused. “I like redheads, I guess. Why are we talking about this?”
“Because I’m curious.”
I, however, had a semi. Not because of Maria, because, as beautiful as she was, I didn’t find her attractive. Still, my dick had a mind of its own lately because it kept waking up in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“What about you, Slade?” I said, smirking. “What’s your type? No, let me guess. It’s the girl next door, isn’t it? The kind of girl who lives behind a white picket fence and dreams of a knight in shining armor. Am I right?”
Jordan lowered his gaze before replying.
“Actually… I think I might be gay.”
My stomach dipped. “Pardon?”
“It’s not a you thing,” Jordan added, looking alarmed. “It’s a penis thing.”
So, I heard him correctly. It was also something called too much info.
“I get that, Jordan,” I said, rubbing my forehead. “And as much as I rejoice in your gay awakening, I don’t want to know more about it.”
“Why? Do I disgust you?”
“I’m not homophobic,” I exclaimed, feeling exasperated. “You know me well enough to know that. I just don’t want to talk about it.”
So, we didn’t. Actually, it was a conversation-stopper if I ever heard one, because none of us spoke for the rest of the night.
Jordan fell asleep, which made me want to sleep too, but I had something to prove to myself.
Namely, that I didn’t need him. So, I watched him sleep, wondering how someone who looked like an angel could be so annoying at times.
His caramel-blond hair shimmered under the moonlight, darker in the shadows and the color of champagne where the light touched it.
His eyelashes were pale and endless. His lower lip was slightly fuller than the upper one, making him look almost…
pouty. It was no wonder Skull Crusher was chasing him like a dog after a bone.
Jordan was beautiful, and he smelled fucking great.
I made a mental note to ask him which cologne he used when my phone chimed.
I rearranged a boner in my pants before reading the text.
Maddox: I’m drunk. Where’s the fire?
Me: In my pants.
I cringed and deleted that.
Me: I need that file on Flynn!!!
Maddox: I sent it to you. Check your spam.
Me: Shit. You’re right.
Maddox: You’re welcome.
Me: Fuck off.
It was early in the morning when Boris Flynn walked out of the house, dressed for work.
He was on his phone, and he looked upset.
He kept darting nervous glances at the street until the call ended, and then he took off in his Chevrolet.
We followed him to his office, but other than that phone call, nothing strange happened.
After that, we went to the station, and the following day, we did it all over again.
It was after the third sleepless night that I started to crack. I came to work pissed and almost got into a fight with both Maddox and Buck. Chief Bibb told Jordan that both of us should take a day off, but what was the point? I still wouldn’t be able to fucking sleep.
It was late in the afternoon when Maddox suggested we go to Pete’s after work.
Getting drunk seemed like a viable option and the only one that would keep me sane for the time being, so I agreed.
The problem with getting drunk, though? You stop thinking rationally and start making stupid decisions.
And a drunk insomniac? Stupid wouldn’t even begin to cover it.
Jordan
When we leave this place, things will go back to the way they were.
Maybe for him, but I was stuck in the past, dwelling on things I should probably forget. I kept reliving what happened in prison, and the more I did it, the more it seemed like something I’d imagined. Something I dreamed of, or wished into existence. The problem was… I couldn’t let go.
I was still mulling it over when my phone rang.
“Where the hell were you?” Luz bellowed after I answered. “I have been calling and calling.”
“Didn’t you get my text? I told you I have an undercover mission.”
“That’s no excuse.”
Reasonable as always. Still, I told him what happened—at least the parts I was allowed to tell.
“Don’t they have phones in prisons?” he said in an accusatory tone. “You were there for days. You could have called me.”
Luz clearly had a misconception about how prison calls worked, or undercover cops, for that matter.
“Anyway, how was it?” he said before I could explain. “Is dropping soap a thing there, or is it something you only see in movies?”
“I wouldn’t know. Adam watched my back, so—”
“Hold up!” Luz cut in. “Adam was there? With you?”
“Yeah. Didn’t I tell you that?”
“No, you conveniently forgot that part!” Luz exclaimed. “Wait, a minute… does that mean that you showered together? Did you see him naked?”
“That’s how showering usually works,” I mocked him.
“So, what happened?”
I hesitated, picking at my cuticle. “Nothing.”
“You fucking liar. Tell me what happened, or I’m coming to Smitsville, I swear to God.”
“I embarrassed myself, okay?” I exclaimed, relenting. “In fact, I can’t look at myself in the mirror since it happened. If I could take it all back...”
You wouldn’t do it.
“What the hell happened?”
“Long story short, I got drunk and kissed him.”
“Whom?”
“Adam.”
Luz gasped. “You’re shitting me.”
“I wish.”
“And what did he do?”
“I don’t know. I fainted or something.”
“And?”
“And then nothing. Until he kissed me.”
“Sorry, can you repeat that part?”
“He kissed me.”
“Adam Markland kissed you?”
“Yes.”
“In the mouth?”
“Don’t make a big deal out of it. He says it doesn’t mean anything. What happens in prison stays in prison, or something like that.”
For a few moments, deathly silence ensued.
“Jordie…” Luz said when I interrupted him.
“Don’t say it, okay? I know I fucked up, but it happened, and now I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“You have to, Jordie, or you’ll get hurt.”
“I know that it seems impossible for him to like me, but—”
“It’s not that, Jordie. He likes you. I called it ages ago. The issue here is that he’s an asshole, and he doesn’t deserve you.”
“You give me too much credit,” I mumbled. “Besides, you don’t know him as I do.”
“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I’m not right. Please, stay away from him.”
“I will, damn it. I just need some time.”
As it turned out, time was the least of my problems, and I realized it when a cloud of perfume entered the picture.
Namely, Maria. Her arrival made me consider something that should have crossed my mind sooner.
Sooner or later, Adam would find someone, and I would be forced to watch.
The thought made me want to drink myself into oblivion, so when Maddox suggested drinks at Pete’s, I was all for it.
My realization, as crushing as it was, still didn’t mean I would roll over and watch it happen.
So, when Maria tried to sit next to Adam, I was faster, and I slid into the booth next to him.
She sat beside me, and the rest of the gang followed, which meant Maddox, Buck, and John Smith.