Chapter Nine
Declan stood in front of the old armoire in the apartment and stared at himself in the mirror.
He couldn’t put it off any longer. He had to get dressed for his father’s retirement party.
Declan wasn’t convinced of his choice of clothes.
He knew he should dress up, and for him that usually meant his good jeans and a jacket.
Charlie had vetoed that. He’d suggested a nice-fitting casual suit.
“It’s not too dressy, but dressy enough to show that you care,” Charlie had explained before giving him a peck on the cheek and a pat on the bum.
“Are you sure it’s okay to pat your boss on the bum?” Declan asked.
“Up here,” Charlie replied, “you’re my boyfriend. You’re only the boss down in the office. Now hurry up. We don’t want to be late.” Charlie punctuated the sentence with another smack to Declan’s ass.
“Yes, sir,” Declan muttered as Charlie disappeared down the stairs.
Declan stared at two other clothing possibilities. I should wear the tux. That’ll show him. But he knew that Charlie would just send him back up to change, like he was a petulant ten-year-old…which, he knew, was exactly how he was behaving.
After a few minutes of consideration, he chose a pressed pair of khakis, a white shirt and a blue blazer. It looked good. Nice and tidy, and…respectful—without going overboard.
His eyes fell on the selection of ties. When did he accumulate so many? There seemed to be dozens.
He pulled out a handful and held them up to his shirt, trying to figure out which one he’d wear. He narrowed it down to two—the blue one with diagonal gold and red stripes, and the burgundy one with the dizzying dots. He chose the former.
He looked at himself again in the mirror.
“Not bad,” he said, nodding to himself.
Hopefully Charlie will approve.
Declan crinkled his brow. He’d never been one to seek out the approval of others until he’d met Charlie Watts.
He looked around the large attic room, his home which had become theirs.
He’d invited Charlie to live here as an attempt to prove to both of them that he was capable of maintaining a healthy, personal relationship.
After Charlie had moved in, things had begun to change.
The weight rack, bench and floor pad which had dominated the room had been shifted off to the side.
There were now pictures on the walls, mostly brought into the apartment by Charlie.
One had been a gift from his grandmother—a gingham panel that she had cross-stitched with a message proclaiming ‘Home Sweet Home’.
Cross-stitching had never been a part of Declan’s plan as far as his home was concerned, but he was learning that compromises for someone you love were part of the bargain and, God knows, Charlie had made lots of changes for Declan.
He straightened his tie, closed the armoire door and headed downstairs.
As he walked into the reception room, Declan glanced to the left into Charlie’s recently finished office.
A laser-printed paper sign identifying the name of its new inhabitant was taped on the door.
Declan’s heart soared with pride at how far Charlie had come along.
“Well, that looks better,” Charlie called out as he walked out of the washroom.
Declan turned. Charlie was wearing a well-fitting dark-green suit, a white shirt, and an emerald tie that accentuated his eyes.
He looked handsome and incredibly sexy. Declan grew more in love with him every day they spent together.
That was the thing—they were both changing… together…and that felt right.
“Let’s go slay the dragon,” Charlie said, walking up to Declan and holding out his arm.
Declan’s feelings shifted and his stomach roiled as if it was filled with panicked butterflies.
He was glad he wasn’t going by himself today.
Sam’s invitation to the party didn’t undo the years of unease between them after the death of Declan’s mother.
Sam had found raising a son alone hard enough, but Declan’s sexual preferences had increased the distance between the two.
Since Gwen had come along, things had been better but… that uneasy feeling again.
Charlie tugged on his arm. “Come on. We can do this.” Declan and Charlie made their way to the ground floor entrance and onto the street.
A hand-printed sign on the door of Gwen’s café said ‘Closed Today’.
A man leaned against the shop’s window peering in.
He was dressed in a rumpled, grubby trench coat.
His hair was long and matted and his hands were dirty.
He looked like it had been some time since he’d bathed.
Declan knew that if Gwen had been in, she would have offered him a free cup of coffee and a sandwich.
He pulled out his wallet and gave the homeless guy a twenty-dollar bill.
“Hey, buddy. This should get you something to eat.”
The man took the money, softly said, “Thank you,” and made his way down the street.
As they walked toward the car, Charlie smiled at Declan. “That was nice, what you did back there. Thanks for being kind.”
Declan bumped Charlie’s shoulder with his, and took his hand. “Must be that you’re starting to rub off on me.”
They got into the car and Declan drove twenty minutes before pulling onto 9th Avenue, parking just down the street from The Precinct pub.
“Ready to go?” Charlie asked.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Declan had only been to The Precinct a few times.
It was known as the go-to bar for anything ‘police’, from promotion celebrations to wakes.
His old partner Gary Sawchuck had introduced him to it after their first shift together.
Declan hadn’t been there since he’d left the force all those years ago, and now he was walking back into the lions’ den.
The bar was dark, even though it was daytime.
Most of the light came through the grimy street-facing windows.
The walls were stained yellow with tar from tobacco smoke that had wafted through the air decades ago when smoking inside was still legal.
It was obvious it had been a long time since the bar owners had painted or washed the walls.
Declan’s eyes scanned the main room. Not much had changed since his last visit.
A few more pictures had been added to the wall of honour.
He remembered when he’d first been shown the wall—and it had been Gary who had shown him, not his dad—Gary had stood him in front of the wall of photos of the officers who had died in the line of duty.
He’d made Declan look at each and every one of them, speaking each name out loud.
It had become a tradition to do this with new recruits.
At the time, Declan had felt it was an honour to speak those names.
He’d always wondered if his dad’s picture would be added to the wall someday.
Declan’s thoughts were interrupted by a roar of laughter from the back room. Declan put his hand on Charlie’s shoulder, took a deep breath, and led him into the party room of The Precinct.
A series of tables covered in white tablecloths had been lined up down the centre of the long room.
Down the table were pitchers of beer and a few bottles of wine.
Almost every chair was occupied, many by guys Declan remembered from the bad old days.
Some were the guys who had cheered when Declan had been kicked off the force.
But today wasn’t about that. Today was about his dad.
Sam sat at the head of the table. Gwen sat at his side. Both were beaming. On the wall behind them was a sign—Run while you still can!
Declan manoeuvred Charlie and himself to a small shelf that ran around the wall of the room. He picked up a couple of clean glasses and filled them from one of the communal pitchers of beer, handing one to Charlie.
Charlie raised his glass. “To Sam.”
“To Sam,” Declan replied.
“I’m glad you made it,” a voice said. Sam walked up and extended his hand to Declan.
Declan looked at it for a moment before he took it. “I’m glad you made it,” he said, pointing to the sign on the wall.
“Congratulations, Sergeant Hunt,” Charlie said.
“It’ll be ‘Sam’ from now on.”
“Sam it is.”
“Can I get you a refill?” Declan asked his dad.
“Sure. I’ll take one of the zero-alcohol beers they’ve got at the bar. It’s not bad. You should try it. Keeps the fat off the gut,” he said, patting Declan’s stomach. “But I doubt you’ll ever have to worry about that. He takes after his mother,” Sam said to Charlie.
Sam headed back to the main table.
Declan caught Gwen’s attention. She smiled. He could see her mouth the words ‘Thank you.’ He smiled back at her and nodded.
Declan remained on the periphery for the next hour.
Charlie seemed at home taking a seat beside Sam, the two laughing about something, looking like a couple of teenagers who’d gotten up to no good.
Here was a guy that he was sure would have crumbled at the sight of a man like his father, but he hadn’t—ever.
Even after hearing about the way Sam had treated Declan in his early years, Charlie had been able to look beyond Sam’s frightening facade and see the humanity that lay beneath the gruff exterior.
Declan sipped his beer and watched. Nothing had been simple between him and his dad. He remembered the battles they’d had when he was a teen. Declan wondered how much of their conflict may have originated on his side.
But looking at Sam today, his father did seem to have changed.
He was much more relaxed. Declan wasn’t sure if it was Gwen that had brought about the change, or maybe it was Sam’s age and the healing effect of passing time.
Whatever the cause, seeing his father and boyfriend sitting together, laughing, gave Declan some hope that there was still time to repair their relationship.
His thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice.
“Good to see you here, Declan,” Sawchuck said before turning to Sam and yelling, “God, you old war horse, are you still here?”
“I wouldn’t have missed this for anything,” Declan said.
“I call bullshit. I bet Gwen and Charlie had to drag you here.”
Declan shrugged.
“Well, whatever brought you here, I’m glad you came. Believe it or not, your old man’s proud of you and what you’ve done with your life, and not just for the fact that you got off the force in one piece.” Gary winked and headed off to an empty chair near Sam.
Declan was about to join them when he saw one of the reasons he hadn’t wanted to come today.
Sergeant Gerry McKeckran had walked in. Declan wasn’t surprised, after all, McKeckran wasn’t the type to miss an occasion that involved free beer and food.
Declan could actually see him lick his lips.
McKeckran made his way to the table of food, filled up a plate, then sidled over to where Declan was standing.
“I’m surprised that you had the guts to come here.”
“And why is that, Sergeant McKeckran?” Declan asked.
McKeckran got right up into his face. “Because girls like you are a disgrace to the force and all those who died wearing the uniform.”
Declan could feel the spray of McKeckran’s saliva on his chin.
“I was invited here by my father. You wouldn’t want me to let him down, would you?” Declan kept his volume low. The last thing he wanted to do was spoil this day for Sam and Gwen.
“You let him down the second you were born!” McKeckran raised his voice. “Fags aren’t welcome here at The Precinct.” He finished the sentence by jabbing his finger into Declan’s chest.
Declan was weighing his options when he sensed a presence behind him.
“Funny, I don’t remember putting you on the guest list,” Sam said. “So maybe you’ll do us all a favour and get out.” Sam turned to the rest of the room and said in a loud voice, “And if any of you aren’t comfortable with my son being here, you can join McKeckran.”
A silence fell over the room.
There was some grumbling as McKeckran stormed out, taking his plate of food with him. A couple of others slid their chairs back and took their beers into the front room.
Gwen came up to Sam and took his hand. He looked down at her. “I’m the one who’s retiring. I can say whatever I want to.” He turned to Declan. “Never liked him. Bad cop. You’re worth a dozen of that guy.”
“I shouldn’t have come,” Declan replied.
“Maybe not,” Sam said, “but I’m glad you did. Now, let’s sit down and have a drink.”