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CRUX ====
- JOE
A small crowd had begun to form, despite the pounding rain; they always did whenever there was the chance to see something grisly. The uniformed officers did all they could to hold them back, to preserve the integrity of the crime scene. Joe was barely conscious of their presence, a sea of somber faces straining to see. Each one with the same thought: 'thank God it wasn't me'. He cursed under his breath and spat a wad of gum towards a far wall. If anyone had told him three months ago that transferring to homicide would mean spending his nights poking around in dumpsters, he would have laughed in their face. Carol had been so proud when he had made it out of uniform two years earlier. And here he was, Detective Joseph Flynn, poking around in garbage in the fucking rain. What a joke. He snorted and swore again, with real feeling.
They were lifting the kid's body out, slashed in the exact same way as the other three. That was three in a month now and no closer to catching the bastard. Truth was it was low priority for the overstretched department, that's why it had gone to the rookie; Joe didn't kid himself that he'd been given the case for any other reason. Someone was picking off hustlers. The prevailing attitude was good luck to them, and he'd been given the case with no expectation that he'd catch the killer. With a sigh he watched the body being taken away. He knew it was worse than useless to talk to anyone round here. Sure, he'd get a name for the kid, but it wouldn't be his real one, they were all runaways. And he sure as hell wouldn't get any leads, they preferred to take the chance that the next trick was the crazy than to name names, if they even knew a name, and lose a customer.
"Anyone see anything?" Joe finally asked the young officer who had been first on the scene.
"Not a thing."
"Surprise. What about the forensics guys?"
"They think he was killed someplace else and then dumped here. They wanna do some more tests, see if they can fix a time, looks like a couple days though."
"Same MO as the others then," it wasn't really a question.
"Yes, sir."
"Okay, ask around, see if anyone wants to talk. I'm out of here, I'll write it up in the morning," with a sigh Joe wandered back out of the alley and into the watery light of the street. This is where the boys were picked up; this was the thoroughfare of sin. And this is where the bodies were dumped. But this was not where the killing actually took place. So somebody must have seen something, must have seen who the boy went off with, must be able to identify the killer. But nobody would. He struggled to light a cigarette, against the wind and the rain, as he scanned the faces in the crowd; fear, curiosity, scorn, and a dozen other emotions. Joe wandered a few yards from the crowd to where a hotel awning offered some shelter from the rain and he could finally get a cigarette to light. Man, but it tasted good after all the hours going without.
"Hey, can I get a smoke?" A quiet voice asked. Sheltering among the shadows further back in the doorway was a boy of around seventeen or eighteen, but who looked older, hands thrust into the pockets of a battered old brown leather jacket. Eighteen, Joe's brother was nineteen now and had just started college; what a difference there was between the two boy's lives, what opportunities to explore his potential this kid would never have.
"What's your name, kid." Joe held out the carton, shaking it slightly so that a few cigarettes stuck out of the foil. The kid took two, putting one behind his ear and the other in his mouth and leant closer to accept a light from Joe.
"Adam," he blew out a cloud of smoke with a sigh.
"You know him?" Joe jerked his head over his shoulder in the direction of the alleyway.
"Yeah," he answered quietly.
"Did he have a name too?"
"Matt. I don't know any more than that," he retreated to the shadows again, preventing Joe from getting a good look at his face, leaving him only with an impression of dirty chestnut hair and pale skin.
"Too bad. You know where he was from?"
"He didn't talk much," the boy shrugged.
"Was he trade?"
"Yeah."
"Don't suppose you know who he went with?"
"No. Whoever paid him, I guess," this was accompanied by a creak of leather, suggestive of a shrug of the shoulders, "You're a cop, right?"
"Yes. Detective."
"You're kinda young," Joe bridled slightly at that comment, his age had nothing to do with anything, and anyway they were talking about the dead kid.
"You know the other three?" He asked, taking control of the conversation again.
"One of 'em, but not very well," the kid replied, but he didn't go on. The two smoked in silence for a while, watching as the rain fell. Finally, Adam spoke again, hesitantly. "There was a guy, Lucas, Matt went with him a few times, I...some of the others did too."
"What can you tell me about him?"
"Not much, um, twenties, blond, good looking." The boy gave another creaky shrug. "He has money, not like rich, but enough. He could always spare a few bucks, and he always paid for food. Not many guys do that."
"Sounds like a real prince."
"He's a good guy."
"Okay." Joe raised his hands in a placatory gesture, surprised by the boy's vehemence. "Do you have a last name?"
"No. Yes," there was a pause while the boy thought, "Parish maybe? I'm not sure."
"An address?"
"I don't know." This was followed by another long pause, when Adam continued to speak his voice was hesitant, as though struggling to recall. "An apartment, I don't remember where, there was a piano."
"Anything else?" Joe was frustrated by the kid's incomplete recollection, but he tried to keep it out of his voice.
"No." A movement in the shadows that might have been a head shaking and silence descended over the two of them again. "Stevie might know more."
"Where can I find him?"
"I don't know. Around." The boy said nothing more for a while. "Sorry."
"Not your fault." Joe finally said, crushing the butt of his cigarette. "You eat today?"
"Trade's been kinda slow," came the wry response.
"How about I buy you dinner?"
"You a prince too?" Adam asked in a sardonic tone.
"No, I just want to talk to you some more."
"What, like a date?" The boy, Adam, chuckled softly. Way too cynical for a boy his age, Joe felt sorry for him, but that's what life out here did. How could he not be cynical when every time he got into a car with some guy it might be the last thing he ever did?
"No, wise guy. Not a date. I want to talk to you about the killings, so you hungry or what?"
"Yeah," Adam crushed his cigarette out too, "Thanks. So what's your name, anyway?"
"Joe. Joe Flynn."
"Nice name. Where we going to eat?" There was an eagerness to Adam's voice, and Joe guessed the kid probably hadn't eaten in a while.
"Where's nearby?" Joe indicated the pouring rain with a wry smile.
"Sam's Diner, down the block."
"Sounds good. Ready?"
"Sure," Adam came forward out of the shadows, giving Joe his first good look at the kid. He was about five ten, longish, tangled brown hair hanging over his eyes, and he looked pretty solidly built, but that would soon change if he spent much time peddling his ass on the streets. A good-looking kid, it seemed such a shame. They walked down the street together towards the diner, silent until they had taken seats in a booth and enjoyed the blissful warmth for a while. The place was practically deserted, just an old man sleeping at the counter. Joe ordered a coffee and a Danish for himself, and Adam ordered a couple of burgers, Coke and fries, looking up at Joe for permission before confirming the order.
"So what's your story?" Joe asked, after watching the boy eat for a while in silence. Gulping down burgers with all the enthusiasm of a starving man.
"Why do you care?" He stopped eating and placed the burger back on the plate, looking Joe straight in the eye, his gray-green eyes a mix of anger and amusement.
"Just curious, I guess," Joe shrugged, "I want to know how you ended up here." The boy's clothes and bearing suggested a fairly comfortable upbringing, but that didn't match at all well with his present circumstances. The disparity had sparked the natural inquisitiveness in Joe that had made him such a good cop.
"Is this in exchange for the burger, or are you gonna pay me for my life story?"
"I didn't know it was one of your services."
"Fuck you!" Adam made a move to stand up. "What the fuck do you know?"
"Nothing. That's the point. Sit down and finish your burger."
"Don't tell me what to do," Adam retorted bitterly, sitting down to finish his burger. He reminded Joe a lot of his brother, Sean, not so much physically as in his demeanor and attitude, Sean was quick to lose his temper with his big brother too, whenever he tried to boss him around. 'You're not the boss of me, Joseph', he used to say, drawing Joe's name out mockingly.
"I just wondered how a nice kid like you ended up here? Doing this?"
"A nice kid like me, huh? Are you coming on to me, Joe?" He didn't wait for an answer, but with a derisive snort continued talking, his voice low. "You don't get it, do you, Joe? We're all nice kids like me. Every single one of us. You think it's only bad people down here? That's your problem. You think I do this because I'm some kind of low life slut? Fuck you, you don't know me, and you don't know what I do. You're never going to find out anything down here, because you don't know shit. Because you haven't the first clue what it's like." This tirade over, he bit aggressively into his burger.
"So why don't you tell me?"
"Because I don't have that kinda time."
"Try me. I'm a quick study. Listen, Adam, I didn't mean any offense; I just want to catch this bastard, before he kills some other kid. Before he kills you."
"Thanks for your concern, Joe," sarcasm dripped from the kid's voice and he uttered the detective's name with undisguised scorn.
"Believe it or not, kid, I am concerned."
"I'm not a kid," Adam glared defiantly at the cop. He'd watched him in the alleyway, but it had been too dark to make much out. Now that he was finished eating and was feeling better he took the time to study Joe a little more. Sitting opposite him was a man of around twenty-five, but tired looking, not unattractive though, solid looking, dependable. He had sandy hair and serious blue eyes and would probably be medium cute if he smiled some more. As Joe talked, he fiddled with a gold band on his wedding finger, twisting it round and round. "Can I get a coffee too?" Adam asked almost shyly, a boyish quality coming through for a moment over his studied hard exterior.
"Sure. I could use another one myself," Joe signaled the waitress and waited until they both had their coffee, pushing his cigarettes towards the boy, before he spoke again. "So, you want to tell me what you know about Matt?" Adam took a cigarette and struggled out of his jacket, laying it flat on the seat beside him, before accepting a light. Underneath he wore a checkered shirt that had definitely seen better days and beneath that a gray T-shirt.
"I guess," the boy shrugged once more and stared disconsolately into the depths of his coffee for a few seconds before, with a heavy sigh, he began to talk, his eyes fixed on the table, "He was an asshole, real cocky, full of himself, you know? But he was funny too, and he knew how to handle himself. He'd been hustling for years, since he was like fifteen or something."
"How old was he?"
"Nineteen, I think. Yeah, older than me, so nineteen, maybe twenty," There was more silence as Adam sipped at his coffee and Joe was conscious that his question had derailed the already hesitant narrative. He wasn't really surprised that Adam was that young, but he had a quality about him that made him look older and more careworn. Old beyond his years, Joe's mother would have said. Here was a boy right on the cusp of manhood who had been forced to grow up too quickly, to learn to fend for himself when he should have been playing soccer with his friends and going on dates. He'd learned to survive, but he'd obviously sacrificed a lot and seen real hardship, and it had resulted in the strange mix sitting opposite Joe now, mature and immature at the same time, old and young, man and boy.
"And you really can't remember a last name? Or where he was from?"
"I don't know his last name. I don't even know if Matt was his real first name, a lot of guys lie about stuff like that, you know that. Nobody wants to get busted for hustling and have his name sound alarms at missing persons, right?"
"I guess not."
"He was from, I don't know, Idaho or Iowa or someplace like that. I don't remember really, like I said he didn't talk much about his old life. Used to talk about getting a break in acting, never happened though." Adam gave a snort that might almost have been a laugh, had it not been so bitter.
"You know him well? Is there maybe someone else I should talk to about him?"
"He was my best friend."
"I thought you said he was an asshole?"
"He was. But he was my friend," Adam looked up at Joe, his eyes beginning to fill with tears, "You wouldn't understand, he looked out for me when I first got here. Watched my back." He swabbed his sleeve across his eyes and snuffled back the tears, obviously embarrassed at his own display of emotion.
"I'm sorry, Adam," Joe genuinely felt sorry for the poor kid, he seemed really lost and alone, and he wished he could reach out and hold him, make everything better. But Adam was right; his middle class upbringing was a million miles away from the life this poor kid led. It wasn't right that a boy of his age should have to live that way, of course it wasn't, but what could he, Joe, do about it?
"Save it. I don't need your pity."
"No, I don't suppose you do."
"So what else do you want to know?" Adam wiped his eyes once more on his grubby shirtsleeve and glared defiantly at the young detective. Joe smiled thinly at the boy, and found himself wishing once more that he could help him. Bringing home strays was a real weakness of is, it had been the bane of Carol's life but also part of why she loved him. But that was then, this was now.
"Listen, Adam, I don't have a lot of money..." He began to say.
"I wondered how long you'd take," Adam gave a derisive snort and then a resigned sigh. "What do you want?"
"No, nothing like that. Jeez! I don't want anything. I just don't want you to walk out here and go back to the street tonight." Joe opened his wallet, and keeping back enough money to pay for the food placed a few bills on the table. "Here, take this."
"Really? You don't want a blowjob? Or to fuck me or anything?" He seemed genuinely confused and Joe winced at the frank, almost casual, way Adam discussed selling his body. What was the kid running from that was worse than the life he had now, what kind of life was it for a teenage boy to automatically assume that any man who spoke to him would want to have sex with him?
"No." Adam studied his face for some time before responding and Joe held his gaze calmly, aware that he was being weighed up and determined to show that he was serious.
"Keep your money, Joe. You've been good enough to me already." For the first time Adam smiled, a small and hesitant thing, barely a smile at all, but it seemed to brighten his face immeasurably and made him look more his real age.
"Well, do you have somewhere to stay tonight?"
"Sure."
"Really?"
"Yes. Really. Look you don't owe me anything, and you're not responsible for me. Thanks for the burgers, I was pretty hungry, but I can look after myself. Okay?" He rose to his feet, pulling his jacket on as he did, and offered Joe another half smile.
"Adam..."
"Can I have another?" The boy indicated the cigarettes with a nod; cutting Joe off before he could complete his thought.
"Take them. My wife made me quit years ago, don't know why I started again." He smiled ruefully at the boy, Joe knew exactly why he'd started again.
"Thanks, Joe." He swiftly pocketed the carton, as though frightened Joe would change his mind, before turning and walking out of the diner and back into the rain, a couple of Goth kids pushing past him into the diner as he left. The detective watched him go, before gulping down the dregs of his coffee and rising himself leaving enough of the money on the table to pay for the meal and leave a too generous tip. He pulled up his collar and with a sigh exited into the rainy night back to where he'd left his car, kicking himself mentally. He was soaked to the skin by the time he got back to his car and slid inside grateful to get out of the rain. He started the engine and let the heater run at full for a few minutes before pulling away and starting for home.
Joe lived clear across town, at least a twenty minute drive from the crime scene in a nice apartment he had bought with his wife. It wasn't in the best neighborhood, but it was large and had a pretty good view, a view that a few blocks further up would have cost twice as much. They'd bought it with the money Joe's grandfather had left him when he died. Seemed a lot of people in Joe's life, people he cared about, had all died at once. Death was a theme in his life; maybe that's what drew him to homicide in the first place. As he drove he mulled over the conversation he had just had with Adam, straining to see the road ahead through the torrential rain, and ordering what little he knew about the dead boy, Matt. It was shaping up to be a dreadful night and Joe couldn't help but worry about the poor kid out there in the cold and wet, alone.
"Oh, fuck!" He cursed, banging his hand on the steering wheel, as he turned the car and headed back the way he had come. Ten minutes later Joe passed Sam's Diner again, heading back up the street, past the alleyway and deep into the den of vice. Visibility was poor, but Joe could make out figures huddling in doorways and under awnings, near lampposts; all trying to strike the balance between sheltering from the rain and touting for business. His was not the only car making the slow crawl up the street and the thought passed through his head that he might be too late. After a couple of false alarms he finally caught sight of the boy, smoking in the doorway of some flea-pit hotel, illuminated poorly by the flickering fluorescent light in the hotel's lobby. He drew to a halt and Adam immediately ground out his cigarette and approached the car, bending down to look in as Joe pushed open the door.
"Get in."
"Joe?"
"Yes. Come on, get in, you're getting soaked," a look of confusion passed across Adam's face, followed rapidly by one of resignation.
"Wait a minute," the boy turned away and jogged to the hotel door, slipping inside and disappearing from view. When he returned he was clutching a black backpack in one hand, cradling it on his lap as he slid wordlessly into the passenger seat pulling the door closed. He hunched down in his seat and Joe turned up the heat a little to try and warm the boy up, Adam shivered a little in the sudden warmth but remained silent for most of the journey, speaking only once, "where are we going?"
"My place."
"Okay," Adam sighed.
They continued in silence, Joe concentrating once more on the road ahead until finally he pulled the car to a halt outside his building. "We're here."
"Okay," Adam muttered again as they both got out of the car and entered the building, he dutifully followed Joe up the darkened stairs to his apartment and stood hesitantly just inside the door as the detective turned on the lights.
"Here, let me hang up your jacket for you," Joe held out his hand and the boy put down his backpack to struggle out of the wet leather and pass it to him. When he returned, Adam had already taken his shirt off and was pulling his T-shirt up over his head; the button of his jeans was already undone. "Adam! No." Joe grabbed the hem of the shirt and Adam's arms, pulling both back down.
"I don't understand?" The boy's voice was quiet and unsure.
"That's not why I brought you here." Joe released the boy and took a step back.
"Then why?"
"Because I didn't want you spending the night on the street."
"Why?"
"You ask too many questions, I'm meant to be the detective around here," Joe answered with a grin, wishing the boy would relax a little and stop looking like he was going to turn and run. How could he be so unused to kindness? "You can sleep here, on the couch. It folds out."
"I told you I don't need charity."
"Would it be charity if we were friends?" Joe asked.
"N-no," the boy responded hesitantly, obviously confused.
"Okay, so pretend I'm your friend, and I'm helping you out."
"But..."
"But what? Do you want to take a bath? I can wash your clothes while you do if you like."
"But you don't owe me anything," a note of perplexed defiance was beginning to creep back into Adam's voice, belying the hopeful expression that flitted across his face at the mention of a hot bath. The boy considered Joe for a few long seconds with his head tilted slightly to one side. "So why?"
"I don't know," Joe shrugged, "guess I'm just a sucker." Surprisingly Adam grinned at this remark, his whole face lit up and he suddenly appeared a handsome young man, albeit a bedraggled one. A decision appeared to have been reached and some of the tension left his stance.
"Where's the bath?"
"Second door on the left. Just dump your clothes outside and I'll find you something to wear until they're dry. Okay?"
"Joe?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks, man."
"No problem," Joe smiled at the boy, "now go!" Having made up his mind, Adam needed no further prompting and scuttled off to the bathroom before Joe could change his mind. The detective shook his head as he scooped up Adam's shirt and moved the backpack away from the door. It was surprisingly light, considering it probably contained everything Adam owned in the world. Moments later he heard the crashing of water running in the bath and went to collect the pile of clothes from outside the door and stuff them in his washing machine. That done, Joe returned to the living room, placed Adam's boots beside his backpack and folded the couch out to make it up as a bed for the boy. There was no noise from the bathroom as he passed the door again to get clothes for the kid, digging out shorts, socks, t-shirt and an old bath robe Carol had told him repeatedly to throw out.
"Adam?" Joe tapped on the bathroom door.
"Oh!" A startled voice said from within and there was the sound of water cascading from a suddenly upright body. "Sorry! I'll be right out."
"No, that's okay," Joe laughed, "I just wanted to let you know that I've put some clean clothes out here. Take as long as you like."
"Okay," Adam replied, his voice almost covered by the splash of him settling back into the bath.
"There's disposable razors in the cabinet and shaving foam by the basin, and I think there's a new toothbrush in there too."
"Okay."
Joe went back to the living room and finally took off his own jacket and loosened his tie. He sank gratefully into an armchair and kicked off his shoes. It had been a long day. More coffee would be good, but it was a long walk to the kitchen and the chair was so comfortable. Joe let his eyes close and allowed himself to relax back into the cushions. He dozed off and was startled into wakefulness by a gentle hand on his knee.
"Hmm?"
"I didn't want to wake you," Adam said. He was perched on the corner of the sofa bed wearing the clothes Joe had left for him, which were a little too large, the robe hanging open. The boy's hair was clean and still wet and he was cleanly, if inexpertly, shaved with a couple of small cuts on his chin. Like that he looked younger than his actual age rather than older, but there were still lines and bags under his eyes, which gave him a look of terrible melancholy. "You looked very peaceful, but I thought you'd be better in bed, you don't want to get a bad back."
"I must have dozed off. I was going to make some coffee, would you like a cup?"
"Let me," Adam jumped to his feet, eager to do something in return for Joe's generosity.
"If you can't find anything, just holler," Joe was happy to stay exactly where he was. He could hear Adam opening and closing drawers, obviously looking for a spoon. Idly, he wondered when the last time would have been that Adam did something that ordinary and domesticated. Did he imagine he was running away to some glamorous new lifestyle when he left home? He surely hadn't planned to turn to prostitution; once again Joe wondered what had been so bad that this seemed better. Adam returned with two steaming mugs of coffee, a grave look on his face, interrupting Joe's reverie. Joe was struck once again by how little Adam smiled, any other teenager he knew was always laughing and grinning. Adam was not.
"Thanks," Joe gratefully accepted the coffee.
"This is a nice apartment," Adam glanced around the living room, "big." He pointed at a picture on the end table, "Who's that?"
"My brother, Sean," Joe answered, it was Sean standing by his first car in their parents' driveway, a U Penn sweatshirt on and a big wide grin on his face. Joe's parents had bought him the car when he was accepted and he had been so proud he'd sent a copy to his brother.
"He in college?"
"Yeah." Joe was about to ask about Adam's home and family, but the boy threw him by asking another question of his own.
"Is this your wife in the pictures?" Adam picked up a framed photograph from a bookcase and Joe clenched his left hand into a fist, pushing his wedding ring around his finger with his thumb. Adam seemed to have shed his reticence in the bath, and was now inclined to talk; maybe it was just to prevent uncomfortable silences, or more questions from Joe.
"Yes."
"You divorced?"
"No," Joe took a sip of coffee, "no, she died."
"Oh," he put the photo reverentially back in place, "I'm sorry. What happened?"
"Car crash," Joe was uncomfortable talking about Carol, the memory of her death was still so fresh and painful, even after more than a year. "She was only 23." Adam sat down again on the corner of the bed and looked at Joe, who was unable to meet the boy's frank gaze.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."
"No, it's okay, it was a long time ago," Joe drew in a deep breath and looked up to smile at the boy, concerned that he had made him more uncomfortable than he had been to start with, "I've never really talked about Carol's death to anyone, is all."
"I'm really sorry, Joe," Adam placed his hand back on Joe's knee and gave a gentle squeeze.
"Thanks," Joe put his hand on top of the boy's and squeezed back, "anyway, time for bed, I've got another long day." He rose to his feet, Adam's hand falling away as he did. "See you in the morning, kid," Joe tousled the boy's still damp hair as he passed him.
"I'm not a kid," Adam said, looking up at him, with the faintest of smiles.
"Good night."
"Joe? About earlier, I'm sorry. I just thought..." he trailed off, "well, that's just usually what people want. You've been so kind to me. I'm just sorry I can't help you any more, but I just don't know the answers. Sorry."
"It's okay, Adam." Joe smiled sadly as the boy apologized again.
"I wish there was something I could give you in return, you know, payment, but the only thing I have of any value," he glanced down at his body and then looked up with a sad expression, "well, you don't want it."
"Adam, you have something much more valuable than that," Joe had stopped by the door when Adam started speaking and was now resting one hand on the frame and smiling fondly at the boy who reminded him so much of his own kid brother, "at least it is to me."
"Is this going to be dumb?" Adam asked, but Joe simply smiled. "Okay, what is it?"
"You really want to know?" Joe raised one eyebrow and looked at him quizzically.
"Yes," Adam laughed at the expression on the detective's face, the untroubled, unaffected laugh of a teenage boy, showing all his teeth for the first time.
"That."
"Huh?"
"Sleep well, kid," Joe shook his head and turned to leave.
"You too, Joe. Thanks again." Adam scooted up the bed and slid under the blankets, reaching for the light on the end table.
Joe retreated to his own bedroom and undressed slowly, pulling on a pair of blue pajama bottoms. He toyed with the idea of taking a shower but decided he was too tired and settled for simply brushing his teeth before he crawled gratefully into bed and with a deep sigh switched off the light. Joe lay and turned over the day's events in his mind, he didn't know why he'd brought the boy home. Was it just that he reminded him of Sean? Was it simply that Joe was, as his wife used to say, a soft touch? He knew nothing about him, for all he knew he was a thief, and maybe even a murderer. Of course he wasn't. He knew one thing, though; Carol would never have forgiven him if he'd just left the kid there in the rain. He rolled over, dismissing the thought from his mind, and was asleep within minutes; it had certainly been a long, tiring day and tomorrow looked like being the same
"Joe? Are you awake?" A soft voice brought him out of his slumber, for a moment he was sure it was Carol until his head cleared. Standing in a pool of light by the door was Adam, now without the robe, rubbing the sole of one socked foot nervously up and down the calf of the other leg.
"Yeah," he grunted, "what is it, Adam?"
Adam crossed the few steps between the door and Joe's bed, pushing the door closed behind him cutting out the light from the hall. His features were obscured in the darkness as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Joe pulled himself up onto his elbows and squinted to see the boy better in the gloom.
"Can I get in?" The voice was so soft and hesitant, Joe's heart ached at the tone, there was pain in it he wished he could take away, but there was nothing he could do.
"Adam, I'm not into guys," Joe tried to explain, tried to let the boy down easily, show him that he just wasn't interested in him physically, only as a friend. "I'm not gay."
"Neither am I," Adam replied simply, with a small movement that could have been a shrug, "that's just for money."
"So...why?" Joe was confused.
"Because I'm cold." He lifted the covers on the other side of the bed to Joe and slid his legs underneath. Joe said nothing. "And because I don't want to be alone, I thought we could talk, you know, until I'm sleepy?"
"Listen, kid..." Joe started again, but Adam cut him off, which was probably as well as he had no idea what he was going to say.
"I thought we were friends now?"
Joe sat in silence for a moment, considering his answer. He had never had another man in his bed, never even entertained the idea. In fact, he hadn't shared a bed with anyone since Carol had died. She had been his high school sweetheart, they'd married when they were eighteen and been each other's first. Before that Joe had only ever shared with his brother when they'd stayed in his grandmother's cramped apartment as kids. He knew, intellectually, that sometimes it was comforting just to know that someone else was nearby, without it having to be anything physical, but his own experience of that was seriously limited. Still, he never regretted a day he'd spent with Carol, who he had loved completely, and never really thought about what he had missed by marrying so young. As all these thoughts tumbled through his tired brain Joe realized Adam was still waiting for an answer, so he made a decision. "Okay, buddy, get in."
"Thanks," Adam slid the rest of his young body into the bed and curled into a fetal ball on his side, facing Joe his eyes two moist, dark pools in the shadows of the bedroom. Joe could feel the boy slowly relax alongside him as he awkwardly settled back down himself. In the end they didn't talk, both just lay in the dark silence, the ticking of the clock in the hall the only sound as Joe drifted back into his dreams. Adam lay still and watched the young detective's face softened by sleep until he was sure he was out completely. Then, carefully, he slid closer and snuggled against his side, laying his hand on Joe's bare belly and his head on his chest with a sigh, the regular thudding of Joe's heart the last sound he heard as he too fell into a deep contented sleep.
Continued in Chapter 3...