Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Hunter on avoiding awkward conversations by looking at haunted hotels
I didn’t move until I heard the shower running in the tiny bathroom. Regge had called me HB. It was unique to him, a private joke between us.
Once, after a few drinks, he’d told me HB stood for hot blond. But that was another time.
I sighed as I lounged on the futon, gazing around at the bits and pieces of Regge’s home. It was simple—only the futon and one chair, a rickety coffee table. The ratty bookshelf Izzy gave him for his growing book collection sat along the far wall and I rose to inspect it.
The shelf had been repainted a brilliant blue.
On the top were a couple of framed charcoal sketches.
One was of Archie in both his forms, the cat in the foreground and crow behind it.
It was beautifully detailed, with individual whiskers and feathers respectively, but also perfectly capturing Archie’s personality.
A standing lamp hovered next to the bookshelf. I returned his chair to its spot under the lamp. Under the window, a small end table held a large cushion and a sleeping Archie.
“Hey boy, how’s things?” I scratched the cat gently behind his ears. He blinked, leaned into my touch for half a second, and then went back to sleep. “Okay then.”
The studio apartment was spacious enough to fold out the futon, and the kitchen was neat and tidy with open overhead shelves holding a few dishes. A bowl of two overripe bananas sat on the small counter.
The shower stopped running, and I got to work unboxing the bed and plugging it in. Surprised by the rapidly unfolding inflatable, I was shoving the futon and coffee table aside when Regge appeared. I stared. Couldn’t help it.
Breathtakingly sculpted, a towel wrapped around his waist, a partially naked Regge was a sight to behold.
Water darkened his wheat-colored hair to a light brown.
He’d let it grow out to flop over his forehead and curl slightly around his ears.
The navy-blue towel was almost thick enough to hide the bulge at his crotch.
Almost. I tracked a drop of water as it glistened and edged its way down over a smooth and perfect pectoral.
My palms hurt suddenly from the press of my nails. Truly unable to keep my eyes from him, my gaze followed the lines of defined muscle across a broad chest, down his abdomen where a trail of light brown hair lined up below his belly button and disappeared into—
“Hunter?”
Fortunately, he was looking at the blown-up bed tilted on the floor between us, the whine of the air compressor still going. I shut it off. When the intercom buzzed, I thanked my silent stars and jumped to answer it.
“That’s the pizza.”
I busied myself paying the kid and getting the still warm pie to the counter as Regge dressed quickly behind the open door of the wardrobe. He emerged, yanking a worn T-shirt over his head. He avoided looking at me. Something I was grateful for as it allowed me to breathe.
Shifting the now inflated bed to lean against the longest wall, I silently chided myself. What had I been thinking? Inviting myself to stay here. I’d forgotten how truly small the studio was. My basement apartment wasn’t much larger, but it had a separate bedroom and an actual kitchen.
The folks living in the hotel didn’t have funds for a fancier place, and being not quite human, they preferred to stay with others like them. I’d thought rooming with Regge would be easier on him than moving a stranger in. We’d lived together before, so it shouldn’t be a problem, right?
Except for the bathroom, there was no privacy at all in Regge’s place. Neither of us were shy about nudity, but the situation had changed.
Or at least I had changed. I’d pretty much declared my feelings and been rejected, so there was that. I had to keep my head. Regge wasn’t interested, and he’d made that clear. Just friends. That was doable. Hopefully.
I set paper plates beside the pizza box and turned toward the sink, my hands gripping the edge of the counter.
On the wall in front of me was a sketch of a beautiful young man.
This one was done in pencil and colors, blond curls and bright blue eyes.
Positioned so they will be smiling at Regge whenever he did dishes.
Charlie.
When he first arrived, Regge had described Charlie simply as his everything. He had healed physically, but emotionally, he still mourned his lover. As he came to trust me more, the story of Charlie’s death came out, along with bits and pieces of Regge’s past. He’d been through a lot.
Being tossed into the modern world had saved his life, but it was a big adjustment.
I’d had always thought of myself as a loner. But I realized I liked being Regge’s person. The one he relied on for help and information and rides and… everything. It had been a long time since I’d felt so needed, so useful.
I gestured to the pizza. “Should we dig in?”
Regge approached the counter, his expression tucked into neutral calm as he reached for the pizza box. “Thank you for this.” A flash of a smile. “Ooh, meat lovers. My favorite.”
“I know.”
?±?
When I woke up, I was a little disoriented, but the snuffling snore coming from the futon reminded me. Smiling, I rolled onto the floor from the airbed and padded to the bathroom. Showering quickly, I pulled on the same jeans from the day before and hoped to escape before Regge woke.
“You want some tea? Or I have coffee too.” Regge, still dressed in his sleepwear, stood at his kitchen sink. He set the kettle down and flipped the switch.
“I didn’t mean to wake you. I know it’s early.”
“You didn’t. Wake me, I mean. What’s your gig today?”
“It’s a wedding. I’m setting up chairs and buffets. I will be done by two.” I fidgeted. “Um, do you want to go by the hotel? After I get back?”
“Hotel?”
“The Fulbright. I want to do a little investigating.” I waited.
“Oh yeah. Of course,” he said.
“I want to talk to the desk clerk and see if he knows something about the owner. I mean, the sooner it’s fixed, the sooner those guys will get out of my place and—”
“Sounds good.” Regge dropped tea bags into mugs.
I paused, not meaning to sound ungrateful or that I wanted out of Regge’s hair as soon as possible. I did, though, want to be away from here. It was too painful, too nerve jarring.
In the past, we’d never run out of things to talk about.
Not since we met. Everything was interesting to Regge, and I was fascinated by his take on the modern world, but it had been months since the night at the club.
Months even, since he’d quit working at Pinkie’s.
Last night, our conversation was kept to work, our friends, and pizza. I rattled on, filling the silence.
“Abraham told me the old guy we pulled from the rubble has disappeared from the hospital. Checked himself out, I guess. Abe’s busy finding more space for folks, and well, I thought I’d check things out, you know?”
“It’s fine. I said I’d go.” Regge’s tone had changed. Again, there was that stiffness in the breadth of his shoulders, the way his eyes avoided me.
Now I really wished I’d been able to sneak out before he woke. But the mug of tea was on the counter. It was rude to rush out the door, so I crossed the room and picked it up, drinking it too fast and scalding my tongue. All so I could escape the tension I’d created just by being.