Chapter Nine
Ulysses
Ididn’t get answers.
We had sex.
We showered.
Finn started to make dinner—ignoring the questions I tried to pepper him with.
Then his phone rang. A co-worker. Wanting to talk.
He gave me that look. Not an I’m going to take this in private and could you wait look. Nope, he delivered the had fun, maybe again or never, there’s the door don’t let it hit your ass on the way out look.
Never let it be said that I overstayed my welcome.
Still, as I drove home, I was a little miffed. He promised answers. Yet he wouldn’t even let me ask the questions. Is this payback? His way of putting us back on even ground? So…where does that leave us?
As I returned to downtown Mission City, I contemplated the answer to that question. I nabbed takeout from A&W, and I chewed various scenarios over in my mind. As I drove into the parking garage of my condo, I had the vague notion I’d been had.
I locked my car, checked my bike under the tarp, and headed toward the elevator.
Finnegan O’Sullivan was making me crazy.
Somehow I’d avoided him for almost three months and now I’d seen him multiple times in a week.
That need—that lust—was still unsated. I would’ve happily stayed the night if it meant we could go at it repeatedly.
I needed to get him out of my system. Whether I meant once and for all or just for the time being was a question I wasn’t willing to contemplate.
In my condo, I locked the door, tossed my keys on the counter, toed off my shoes, shucked my coat, and headed into the living room.
I’d left the blinds open when I’d taken off this morning.
Now, as dusk encroached, I spotted nothing but gray clouds hanging low.
I couldn’t see the bridge to Abbotsford—let alone the Sumas mountains or Mount Baker in the distance.
On sunny days, I had a clear view of the dormant volcano in Washington State.
So different than the cityscape view from my condo in Vancouver.
I put my soda on the side table and plopped onto the couch.
Ater glancing at the wall clock—and seeing six o’clock neared, I turned on the television and selected the national news.
Then I dug into the aromatic bag of hot food and removed the onion rings.
No worrying about onion breath tonight. Asshole.
Whether I was referring to myself or Finn was entirely up for debate.
I could’ve done better three months ago, and he could’ve done better tonight.
If he’d gone into his room to take the call—or asked me to make myself scarce—I totally would’ve respected his privacy.
Hell, I could’ve cooked dinner while he talked to his coworker.
I stopped, an onion ring suspended in midair as a thought hit. What if Finn had set up that call ahead of time? What if he’d asked a coworker to call about the time we’d be getting ready for dinner and—
What? He could’ve asked me to leave at any moment. He must’ve known I’d never overstay my welcome. I might’ve argued, at least a bit, but I would’ve left.
That left the call being genuine. So what did that mean? I eyed my phone. I hadn’t gone back to the fire scene. Unlikely that Constable Seth was still there, but how much information I could’ve gotten at this point was debatable.
You could’ve tried to take pictures. Rainy, mucky pictures.
I wasn’t averse to tough weather. God knew, I’d endured some pretty shitty conditions to meet sources or to, on occasion, take photographs.
After a moment, I shoved the onion ring into my mouth.
The newscast began.
I couldn’t pay attention, though. My mind kept circling around to the fire. So I shoveled the mozza burger down with less grace than I would have if I’d had company, and then yanked out my laptop from my messenger bag. Within a moment, I was online.
First, the Mission City fire department.
No advisories or mentions of the fire. Not surprising—but worth checking
Next the Mission City detachment of the RCMP. Nothing.
Finally, I checked the town website. It rarely got updated, but—
Bingo.
Road-closure notice. Bridge Street was closed until further notice.
No cause given and no ETA for reopening.
I pulled up a map of the industrial part of Mission City, since I wasn’t overly familiar with it. Bridge Street was small and not an artery. So this would be an annoyance for the businesses on that street, but was unlikely to have a broader impact on the town.
What does this mean? Is the fire out? Tire fires last for a long time…right?
I hadn’t spotted smoke when I’d looked out the window when I came home, and I hadn’t smelled smoke when I’d pulled up to the drive-through. But I hadn’t been focused on those things. Just miffed at Finn and looking to appease my empty stomach after a bout of mind-blowing sex.
My phone rang.
Spring.
“Yep?”
“You’re always so polite.” She laughed.
“What do you want, Dixon?” Even as I asked the question, a sense of rightness permeated.
She was down-to-earth and also easy to talk to.
She didn’t put on airs or ask me questions I didn’t want to answer.
Of course she’d done her research before I arrived as her new boss.
She made a comment about two sides to every story and welcome to the team. That’d been it.
“Did you attend the fire?”
“Nope. Seth wouldn’t let me near.”
“You too, eh? I tried that as well and got turned away. He said he’d sent you on your way, but I thought maybe you’d snuck back—or gone in the other side.”
“I considered it. Then Finn invited me to lunch, and I figured that stood me more likely to get answers.”
“Did you get any?”
“Not a one.”
“Did you do anything interesting?”
She’s fishing. She knows nothing. “Yeah, a bill for a steak and—” I considered. “I’ll try again.”
“Right, because there’s something fishy.”
“Yep. How’d the interview go?” Because I did not want to talk about Finn and how I planned to convince him to talk to me in the future. Too much information for my cub reporter.
“The interview went well. I want to do a feature. I even got some good photos. Would be nice if we had a photographer…”
“You find me fifty new regular ad sponsors and we can talk about it. We’re barely breaking even.”
She huffed.
Right. That’s how I feel. We were a dying business in some ways.
Lots of storied community papers across Canada were shuttering.
The Mission City Gazette held on—for now.
Some of that success was from pivoting to more online content.
But we still wanted an actual physical paper to come out once a week.
“Well, whatever.” She sighed.
“What?”
“I heard something about a local business.”
“Oh?” This wasn’t a tone I’d heard from her before. Although, admittedly, three months wasn’t a long acquaintance. “What’s up?”
“Dog fighting.”
I blinked. “I’m sorry, you’ll have to repeat that.
Did you say dog fighting? Like with, you know, dogs…
fighting?” I wasn’t na?ve. Shit like that went on in big cities and small towns.
But to envision people gathered in a circle and betting money on which dog would come out on top? That was unfathomable cruelty to me.
“Yep. Rumors.”
“But often there’s a kernel of truth behind the rumors.”
“Yep.”
“Okay…what are we going to do about it?”
“But I can’t do anything.”
“Huh?” I sat up, nearly dislodging the laptop.
“Because of my sister, Torah. If I go sniffing around this story and she gets wind then there’ll be hell to pay that I didn’t tell her.”
“Oh. Uh…okay.” I sighed as I woke the laptop up. “Tell that to me again?”
“Sheesh, Ulysses.” Another dramatic sigh. “There’s not much to go on. Pretty fucking thin.”
“Still, give me as much detail as you can, and I’ll try to run it down.”
“Yeah, okay.” So then she recounted what she’d heard a rumor about. Just a rumor.
Yeah…except some of my best stories had come from rumors, tips, and just shoe leather detective work. “This shouldn’t be too hard to run down.”
“So you’ll let me know what you find?”
“Yeah. And we can share the byline if it proves to be true and we write a story. You’re certain the cops aren’t onto this?”
“Well, nothing’s for certain. But this person said if the cops had been sniffing around that the ring would’ve disbanded. Or something.”
“Like moving elsewhere or being put on hold.” I’d had more than one Vancouver story evaporate when the subjects decided they’d be safer elsewhere.
“I guess.”
“You don’t sound certain about any of this.”
“Because I’m not.” Another sigh. “This is friend of a friend of some dude…but it smells plausible.”
I trusted her nose for news. “Okay. Let me run it down tomorrow. Do you have a contact at the fire department?”
“I know Miriam. I did a feature on her when she joined the department as a full-time paid firefighter. Lots of bluster from people who said she couldn’t do the job.” Spring snorted in disgust. “Same sexist bullshit you’d expect.”
“Glad to see certain of the good folks around here didn’t miss out on their chance to be assholes.”
“Yep. Vast majority of people either supported or didn’t give a shit. I’ll say this for council—they stood by the hiring. Miriam’s also a super-sweet person who would be able to knock most of the men in this town on their asses.”
“Is she the only woman?” I asked.
“Nope. Iris joined a year later, and Dulcie came on earlier this year. And we’ve got a female volunteer as well. There’s a joke going around that at some point we might have an entire female shift.”
“Times have changed.”
“You’re not that old, MacDonald.”
“Old enough to know better. So can you give Miriam a call?” I rubbed my forehead.
“And ask about the fires?”
“Yeah.”
“Why don’t you just ask Finn?” She sounded baffled.
“Not a viable option right now.”
“What does that even mean?” She chuckled. “You can charm the pants off him?”
“How do you know it’s not the other way around?”
“Oh-ho.” She snorted. “I figured two gay guys might be able to find a way to get together in this town.”
I stilled. “What—”
“You think I didn’t hear about my boss on the dance floor with the hottest firefighter in town? The one who happens to also be gay?”
I hadn’t exactly come out and informed Spring I was gay. I hadn’t had to because the article about me from Vancouver had done that. Damn thing had even implied my being gay had something to do with my discredited story. As if.
“I’m certain there are plenty of other gay men in Mission City.”
“And single and hot and friendly?” A pause. “Well, okay—”
“What?” I tried to keep the exasperation out of my voice.
“We’ve had a lot of gay men getting married in the past few years and off the market. Hello, two of the psychologists who work at my sister’s therapy ranch are gay. Wait, one sec. Cody’s got his PhD and is single.”
“Your point?”
“I should set you up with Cody. He’s about Finn’s age, super cute, and really grounded. Also like Finn.”
“I don’t need to be set up with anyone.”
“It could be fun watching you flail around…” Her grin came through loud and clear.
“Dixon.”
“MacDonald.”
“No.”
“You’re no fun. And you still haven’t explained what you and Finn were doing over at the gay bar in Langley if not hooking up.”
I sighed. “How did you hear about that?”
“Cooper Gander is the biggest gossip ever.”
Why does that not surprise me? Of the four people who’d joined us, I’d pegged Stephanie and Cooper as the two potential troublemakers.
“Dare I ask how you and Cooper got to talking about me?” Right…like that’s the biggest problem at the moment. Still, knowing how the gossip mill worked in a small town was never a bad thing.
“We ran into each other at the grocery store. He’s closer in age to Sunshine than he is to me, but he’s always, uh, chatty.”
“And you just happened to be chatting about me?”
“Well…funny you should say that.”
“Funny how?”
“He asked how I liked my new boss and then the conversation just sort of continued from there.”
“Was he fishing, or were you?”
“Uh…both?”
I sighed. “Personal-life boundaries, Dixon.”
“He brought up seeing you in a gay bar first, and mentioned how you and Finn made a cute couple, but that he didn’t see anything coming of it. And you’ve now pretty much confirmed there either was—or is, or both—a thing between you and Finn. I can see it, you know?”
“Because we’re both gay?” I was happy to lay on the sarcasm.
Her laugh was full-throated. “Even I know there’s more to relationships than just being gay.”
“Oh?” I closed my laptop. I had the information she’d given me, and I’d look into it.
Tomorrow.
“Compatibility. Like how Justin the counselor has to be compatible with his husband, Stanley. Or, like, Stanley’s ex-boyfriend has to be compatible with his husband Ravi.” Another giggle. “And they all live on the same street, so apparently staying friends with your ex is a good thing as well.”
“Do I want to know?”
“It’s a cute story.” She rustled something then let out a contented sigh. “You ready for the gossip?”
I leaned back. “Sure. Why not?”