sixteen
Ramon sat tapping the steering wheel, his police permit on the dash in case any patrol car came by to ask why he was parked up on the pavement of La Rambla, blocking the passing tourists.
Drunk and drugged clubbers, on their way to whichever nightspot they were headed, flowed past the four-wheel-drive pickup into the wide square of Placa Reial, which opened up to the right.
Would Davey return? Ramon had been insistent, perhaps pressuring him too much.
Davey had agreed, said he just needed to stop off at his hostel to get his pack, but maybe he’d just been saying that to get Ramon off his back.
He didn’t think so. He’d return. Ramon knew he’d return.
He had to. There was a connection between them that couldn’t be denied.
If he didn’t return after everything they’d done…
it didn’t bear thinking about. He’d already endured a week when he hadn’t seen Davey, didn’t know if he ever would.
To find each other like that, in the dead of night in the stables…
what were the odds? Ramon didn’t believe in predestiny, but this…
it was like a sign, wasn’t it? They were so right together.
They were meant to be together. He pushed all the other doubts from his mind.
Whatever David was afraid of, they’d work it out.
He preferred not to think too hard about what it meant to him as a cop if that was something illegal.
They’d work it out. But David had to come back.
There was a thump on the passenger door and he started in shock.
There was Davey at the window, his rucksack over one shoulder.
He’d exchanged his dress shirt for a more casual navy-blue tee, and had on a thin pale-blue windbreaker, but was otherwise dressed the same, in jeans and runners.
Ramon unlocked the door and Davey climbed in, slinging his pack on the back seat.
Davey gave him one quick glance, full of worry and nerves, and then stared out the window as Ramon started the car and eased them out into the traffic crawling up the Rambla.
Neither of them spoke as Ramon negotiated the traffic to get them out of the city.
He took Pelayo Street and then Ronda Universitat and Ronda Sant Antoni, circumventing the Raval neighborhood that was pretty much closed to through traffic.
Once they turned onto Sepúlveda, they went slightly faster, but at every stop light Ramon was scared Davey might jump from the car and disappear into the nighttime streets.
From there they turned down Viladomat and onto Paral·lel.
It was only once they entered the freeway on-ramp and Ramon was able to plant his foot to the floor that he breathed a sigh of relief.
His original plan had he been alone was to sleep at home and then head down to the Delta at the crack of dawn.
But this was better. Maybe it was the residual alcohol in his veins but he fancied a nighttime drive, and he wanted to take Davey to a place where they could be together, where he couldn’t run away from his fears.
Was he being coercive? At this point he didn’t care.
He’d never felt like this with anyone before.
He wasn’t prepared to lose Davey before they’d given it a chance.
And he knew that Davey was constantly on the point of cutting and running.
Please, let him stay. Let this work out between them, he breathed.
Glancing over at his passenger, the guy was staring out of the window at the dark, the lights flashing by on the freeway reflecting on his face.
God, he was beautiful. It looked like he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days and the fine stubble on his jaw suited him, his blond locks framing his profile like a classical statue.
At some point they would have to talk. He sensed a huge conversation there they would have to have.
But not yet. Neither of them was ready for it.
Let them just have some time together before they got into those sort of conversations.
Ramon had never been much of a talker anyway, and he sensed David wasn’t either. But they’d have to. Soon.
The drive down always relaxed Ramon. Once you got past Molins de Rei, you just sat on the A7 and kept your foot planted for a couple of hours.
It was a modern, well-maintained freeway with long easy curves, and at this time of night almost free of traffic except for the articulated trucks that mainly stayed in the right-hand lane.
He let himself drive at twenty or thirty above the speed limit, which was what everyone was doing.
That would cut a quarter hour off their journey.
David sat in the passenger seat, looking out the window at the dark, and attempting to avoid meeting Ramon’s glances. They sat in silence for almost half an hour until Ramon had had enough.
“Tell me about where you’re from.”
“It’s just a small place, quite boring really.”
“What’s it called?” When David mumbled something unintelligible, he repeated, “What?”
“Close to Scarborough.”
“Doesn’t it have a name?”
“Yeah…” Then a long pause. “…Ravenscragg.”
Amazing, he had a name finally!
“What is it, a village or town?”
“Hardly even a village… just where we have our stud.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes not.”
“Is that where you learned to work with horses?”
“Yeah, grew up around them.”
“You’re brilliant with them, a natural.”
“Thanks. What made you start working with horses… and become a policeman?”
“The second part’s easy. I wanted to work with horses and when I was sixteen I worked out that if you aren’t rich, the only decent-paying job to be around horses is as a mounted policeman.” He laughed. “And I quite liked the uniform!”
David smiled too between tight lips. “Yeah, the uniform’s dead sexy,” he admitted.
“I started riding when I was six. Mum was taking my older sister along for classes, and I went along for the ride. I don’t remember, but apparently I fell in awe of the horses at first sight and had a massive tantrum when it was time to leave.
After that I got taken along every week and kept going to riding even after my sister lost interest. I was obsessed with dressage and show-jumping for years, the only boy in my riding club. Guess it’s no wonder I turned out gay.”
“You think riding makes you gay?”
“No, of course not, but I’ve noticed a lot of guys who ride are queer or bi, not sure why.”
David snorted. “My dad isn’t.”
“No, not everyone, but some.” There was silence for a while. “So your dad has the stud farm?”
David nodded but didn’t elaborate. Getting personal information from him was like pulling teeth.
“What about your mum?”
“She’s… she passed away, a few years ago now. Cancer.”
“Sorry.” At David’s shrug, he asked, “Do you miss her?”
“Of course.”
That killed the conversation for several minutes. Ramon tried to think of something to say. Finally a question he’d avoided popped into his mind: “So why’d you leave Carme’s?”
“Time to move on.”
“You didn’t even say anything to her.”
“I finished up the week, asked for time off.”
That was news to Ramon. Had he?
“But she always thought you were coming back.”
“I was planning to.”
“So?”
“So… a friend came to town, who… It was just time.”
“So… what? You planning to go traveling or something?”
“Yeah.” David nodded as if the thought had just occurred to him. “Yeah, we’re going traveling.”
Ramon had given him that one for free. His heart sank.
What were they doing in this car together?
The guy clearly didn’t want much to do with him, or to open up about himself at all.
So was it just sex? Were they heading down to the farm just to have a bonk and then Ramon would drive him home?
The thought depressed him, and he stayed silent for several miles.
David didn’t make any further attempt at conversation either, so the silence stretched interminably.
Ramon was almost tempted to turn the car around and drive them both back to Barcelona, or drop the boy off at the nearest off-ramp.
He just kept driving through lack of initiative.
As soon as he got in Ramon’s car and the automatic locks clicked shut, David wanted to jump out.
He’d made a terrible mistake. After saying he was going to put miles between himself and this policeman, here he was going going away for a weekend with the guy!
It was pathetic how little self-will Davey actually had.
He couldn’t even blame alcohol. Sure, before coming to the stable, he’d had a couple with Ned, Dutch courage and all that.
Ned had even insisted on a shot of tequila “to screw your courage to the sticking place, my man,” were his words.
Accepting was the only way David could think of to shake him.
He’d lit out as soon as Ned had his drink before him, knowing the guy wouldn’t abandon his amber fix.
Ned had pushed him on the plan, and he’d finally agreed, but he swore he wasn’t going to do it.
Stealing from Carme would make him an evil person, and whatever he told Ned to get him off his case, he wouldn’t do that.
Despite having sworn to Ned that no money or goods to speak of was held up at the stables, the guy wouldn’t be put off.
Tools was what Ned wanted, for the “jobs” he had planned.
“Look at it this way, Davey Dormouse, as long as we work together, your secret’s safe with me.
And we’ll make a cracking team. There’s loads of pickings in this town.
We can do a few jobs, move down the coast and live the life of Riley.
Marbella! That’s where the big spenders hang out!
Plenty of business to be done down there. ”