Bad Boy 5 Page 10

  Crack dealers and addicts seemed to infest the hotel building, making their deals right outside his window. Peter was sure any moment that someone was going to take out a gun and start shooting and he almost didn’t care. He wouldn’t be surprised if a bullet came right through his window and pierced him in the heart, the way his luck had been and maybe that’s exactly what he needed to happen. Maybe if something awful happened to him, Chip would come rushing back and things would go back to normal again. It was a fantasy and maybe a foolish one at that, but it was the only thing he could think of.

  Why did he want someone that had tossed him out like yesterday’s trash? He knew it didn’t make any logical sense whatsoever but he couldn’t help himself. He loved Chip more than he’d ever loved anyone before. He was the only person in his whole life that he’d given his entire heart to, the only person he’d trusted fully to guard it and protect it from those who seemed hell-bent to hurt him and yet ironically was the same person who had done the same.

  The whole thing didn’t make sense and though he couldn’t put his finger on exactly how, somehow he felt Tony was behind it. Funny, he hadn’t heard a thing from Tony in weeks, not a peep. Maybe he too had given up on him and moved on to someone else. One couldn’t be hell-bent on revenge forever, anger, Peter knew eventually ran out of gas. It left you depleted, dried up and exhausted and even Tony had to have his limits.

  And that should have made him happy, but instead he just felt empty. Like all of his insides had been scraped out. A shell. All he could feel was hurt and pain. He missed Chip, so damned much. He wanted to call him, text him, see him. Even if it was only for a moment. He would give his right arm.

  The loneliness was getting to him, grating on his nerves. Every once and a while, he’d think of something funny or sad or interesting and the first thing he wanted to do was talk to Chip about it. But he couldn’t talk to Chip anymore because the other man didn’t want him. Peter wondered what it was about himself that made him so unlovable. He couldn’t think about that though. Instead, he just stared at the static-y old tube television. He wasn’t watching or listening to the daytime talk show. He just zoned out until he got sick of that too. He switched off the TV.

  Peter folded the pillow in half and then again to try to get some type of cushion on the back of his head. He stared up at the wall, knowing he couldn’t stay like this forever. Cheap as the hotel was, eventually, he’d run out of money and he’d need to find a way to support himself.

  Chip hadn’t left a text, not a call, nothing to see if he was all right. That showed how much he meant to Chip, Peter thought to himself. He guessed not that much, not as much as he’d hoped. Chip had run a good game, Peter had to admit. He’d really pulled the wool over Peter’s eyes. He had finally believed him. Someone had finally broken down his defenses and got to his sensitive heart. He’d trusted Chip, more than he’d trusted anyone. And to repay him, Chip had broken his heart.

  Peter tried to summon his anger. He tried so hard to be mad at Chip. But he just couldn’t. He blamed himself. It was easy to blame himself. After all that time, Chip had worn down his defenses so that he couldn’t possibly defend himself when this had happened. It seemed almost brilliant now, A really convoluted trick. A con. But Peter didn’t understand what Chip stood to gain.

  Though he thought about going back to school and doing some other kind of career, he just didn’t have the energy, physically, mentally or emotionally to start all over again. His greatest fear was going to come true. When his father said if he didn’t take the opportunity of a lifetime to join his firm and put himself through law school instead of that “cacameme teaching job” that he’d regret it the rest of his life, Peter hadn’t believed him and resented it. Now, he shuddered at the reality that he’d likely end up being a janitor or something for the rest of his life, barely scraping together enough to live on Ramen noodles. The exact opposite of the type of person that Peter had encouraged his kindergarteners they could be one day. Not that there was anything wrong with being a janitor at all, but he just felt like a loser and that this was his life now. There wasn’t any point in dreaming of having a family someday. He guessed he didn’t deserve that. He thought, for a brief, wonderful moment, that he had.

  It tore him up and killed him inside. He could almost hear all the wonderful things that Chip said to him. Now, he was certain all of them were lies. Now, he was tossed out on his ass with no way of taking care of himself. His money was dwindling fast and he was briefly tempted to get back into erotic massage. Because, why not? Nothing really felt as though it mattered it any more. But it wasn’t what he wanted. He wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted but he knew it wasn’t going back to that life. At least, not here, not in Las Vegas.

  Not that there was anything wrong with being in the service industry but he had other goals, different goals and as he looked around at the faded and peeled paint on the drywall walls, he knew this was nothing like what he’d imagined his life to be. Who would imagine this for themselves, he wondered bitterly. No, no one imagined living in a dump all alone with no one to care for them. Despondent, he closed his eyes and let himself drift.

  He must have dozed off in between soap operas but when the phone rang it did so, so loud that it almost gave him an instant migraine.

  His hand fished around for his cell phone that he had within arms reach and his blurry vision made out his Dad’s name. What did he want? To rub it all in even more?

  “Hello,” Peter said, clearing his froggy voice.

  “Where the hell have you been?” his dad said.

  Peter really wasn’t in the mood for arguing with him so he just said, “Around. Why?”

  “I tried to reach your … Chip and he said he didn’t know where you were. What happened?”

  “What do you mean, ‘what happened’? I just … just taking some days off.”

  “You two broke up?” his dad asked, the typical straight shooter.

  “Yes, dad, if you must know, yes, we broke up.”

  “Why?” his dad asked.

  Peter was so irritated. As if he really wanted to know why. Probably just so that he could rub it in Peter's face, he thought.

  “It just didn’t work out. So, what’s up?” Peter said, wanting to change the subject. Actually, wanting to get off the phone as soon as possible.

  “Just checking on you,” his dad said, sounding softer, more concerned. Him? Checking on him, didn’t sound like his dad.

  “I just … we didn’t get to talk after the interview and -”

  “Well, I’m sorry, I didn’t say everything that publicist of yours wanted me to say but I just couldn’t go through with it. It didn’t feel right.”

  “She flipped out, you know, afterward,” he said.

  “Well, what can I say?” Peter said, really wanting to get off the phone now.

  “I told her to go to hell,” his dad said.

  Peter chuckled, “What?”

  “She was a bitch anyway besides, she cost an arm and a leg,” he said.

  Peter cracked up.

  “Yeah, well …” Peter said.

  “So, son. I wanted to … Maybe I was a little hard on you before. I was just trying to help you know.”

  “Which time?” Peter said, repositioning himself on the bed.

  “Everytime, all the time. With the interview, with the way I kicked you out years ago. I just didn’t … I just wanted the best for you and I didn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

  “Well, maybe I should have listened. Maybe I wouldn’t be in such a predicament.” Peter said sighing.

  “No, I think you were your own man. You made your own choice and to be honest, I was proud of you and the way you handled that Patty lady. Your mom thought so too.”

  “She did?” Peter said, his heart warming. It was the first time he’d ever heard his father was proud of him or his mom for that matter.

  “Oh, yeah. She told a lady off the other day that was talking smack about you at
the grocery store. “

  “Mom?” Peter said surprised. The mom he knew was rather mousy at a times and very lady-like.

  “Oh, yeah, your mom can be a real bull dog when she needs to be. You should have seen her before I married her. She was cheerleading captain you know but you’d think she was the football coach.”

  Peter smiled at the memories. There was a time when they were all close, even with his father and his antics and he missed those times.

  “Thanks for calling me, Dad,” Peter said.

  “Well, you know the door is always open for you.”

  A lone tear rolled down Peter’s face, that was exactly what he needed to hear, “Thanks.”

  “You’re a fighter, son. You got that from your grandfather I think. You don’t take shit from nobody.”

  “No, I think I got that from you,” Peter said.

  “Well, I … I love you son. Proud of you too.” his dad said, words Peter couldn’t remember had come out of his father’s mouth in years, if ever.

  He wiped the tear from his cheek and smiled. “Thanks Dad, I love you too.”

  He hung up the phone with a renewed hope, a glimmer of hope that somehow, he could pull through this, even if he had to do it alone.

  CHAPTER 14

  Peter didn’t know what he was going to do or how he was going to do it but he knew that he wasn’t going to live the rest of his life feeling sorry for himself. He wasn’t going to let the world punish him or paint him as a bad guy or someone dirty and horrible. That’s just not who he was whatsoever. With his newfound support of his father it was as if it filled a hole in him that he had left open for years, a wound that had never healed was finally beginning to become whole. And yet, as he decided to take a drive that day out to his old apartment to try to pick the lock and grab the last of his things, although he felt a lot better, there was no denying he missed Chip.

  Chip was like finding a long lost twin, a part of himself that he knew deep inside was missing and then suddenly having that twin flame ripped apart. He’d never felt that close to anyone, opened up to anyone like that and it hurt him deeper than he wanted to admit to have Chip of all people, do that to him. Something just didn’t add up.

  He looked out at the night sky and though he was driving away from the strip, the Henderson lights flickered like a thousand stars. It was nights like this that he wished he was out on top of a hill holding hands with Chip laying on his chest in silence. He and Chip never had to fill the night air with mindless conversation. They could just be, the two of them and that was enough.

  He tried to push those thoughts out of his mind. Chip was gone, likely forever and the sooner he got over it, the better.

  He could see red and blue lights flickering behind him. The loud burp of the police’s patrol woke him out of his daydream. He readjusted his rearview mirror to be sure. Yep, it was definitely a cop. The last thing he needed, another ticket. He hadn’t been speeding any more than anyone else, maybe 5 or 10 miles more per hour. They must really be desperate or bored tonight, Peter thought as he pulled over.

  He rested his head in his hands and let out a loud sigh as he saw a tall black cop get out of the car, a rather hot one, actually but he wasn’t in the mood for anyone, not even mindless sex. It’d only stir up unsettled and painful feelings that he was trying to stuff away so he’d go virgin for awhile.

  He rolled down his window, knowing that the cop would be asking him to do so. He’d been pulled over enough times in his life to know the drill and the sooner he could get it overwith, the better.

  “Everything all right, officer?” Peter said, popping his head out.

  The man walked up to him, heavy step by heavy step, getting closer. Peter could only see his thick muscular thighs and not his face but he’d be lying if he didn’t say his eyes drifted over to the man’s crotch area. It stopped at his window, the perfect angle and height for an evening sucking through car.

  He was depressed, not dead and though his heart was with Chip, the thought of giving that man a nice long sucking turned him off. He let those thoughts flash out of his head as the man crouched down.

  “Peter Vanderbilt?” the officer said.

  Peter scrunched his eyebrows. How did he know his name?

  “Uh, yeah, officer. Did I do something wrong?” Peter asked.

  “I’m going to need you to get out of the car, sir.” the officer said in his deep rich bass voice.

  “Uh, why?” Peter said, sitting up and unfastening his seatbelt.

  “We can do this the easy way or the hard way, sir. I suggest we do it the easy way,” the officer warned.

  “But what did I do?” Peter asked. “Did I-?”

  Before he could even finish his sentence the officer had yanked the door open.

  “What? What’s going on?” Peter said. “I know my rights. You can’t just-”

  But the officer yanked him out, shut the door and slammed him against the car. Peter looked back, “This is illegal. This is-”

  Yet the officer cuffed his hands behind his back and yanked him reluctantly into the back seat of his patrol car. Shoving his head down and shutting the door.

  “What the fuck?” Peter said. This was ridiculous. He hadn’t even read him his miranda rights. This was some bullshit and if he survived this night, the entire police department was in for a huge lawsuit as far as Peter was concerned.

  The officer got in the car and slammed the heavy door, looking back only once to make sure Peter was settled back there before he started up the engine.

  “This is not legal. You can’t just lock someone up without telling them what they did. What about my car?”

  “Your car will be fine,” the officer said and after that, no matter what Peter said to him, he didn’t say a word.

  Peter was steaming. He only wanted to pick up his stuff at the apartment and sure, what he was about to do, pick the lock wasn’t actually legal, he hadn’t officially done anything yet at all. He stared out the window as they drove in the direction of downtown Henderson where Peter knew the police station was but then they swung right past it.

  “Where are we going? The station is right there,” Peter said. But the officer didn’t say a word. “Where are we going? Where are you taking me?” Peter screamed as they swung around the corner and went down some back alley that Peter hadn’t ever seen before.

  Was he about to be murdered in cold blood and if so, why here of all places? The officer parked abruptly, got out and opened Peter’s door, yanking him out like a rag doll.

  Peter’s heart beat faster as the officer yanked him down some steps up to a little door where he pounded. The door opened and he pulled Peter through something that was so dimly lit, Peter could hardly see the hand in front of his face.

  He felt the thrust of his body pushed down into a chair and a light shining down on him, interrogation-style.

  The officer patted Peter down, ripped off his jacket then grabbed Peter’s cell phone out of his pocket, opened it up and pulled out the battery. What the fuck was going on?

  He squinted his eyes at the blinding light, he could hear the voices of two men speaking. One was the officer and the other, he couldn’t quite make out but somehow it seemed familiar.

  “I’ll take it from here,” the familiar voice said and closed the door. Peter could hear the footsteps getting closer, and then the body heat of the man as he came behind him, his hand gliding across the back of his shoulder as if taunting him and then sitting down in front of him.

  “I don’t know what this is or what you want but you’re not going to get away with this,” Peter warned.

  The chuckled rumbled from the man’s chest and out his mouth.

  “What do you think this is, Scooby Doo?” the voice said and just as Peter was beginning to recognize the voice, the light was angled between them so he could make out the well-built man in front of him: Chip.

  “What?” Peter said, squinting, not sure how to take it, whether it be relieved, grateful
or shocked. “What’s going on?”

  Chip got up and put his palms on Peter’s face and gave him a deep and passionate kiss, his touch, his warmth made Peter give way to uncontrollable tears no matter how he tried to fight them.

  “Fuck you,” Peter said, wiping his face on the side of his shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” Chip said uncuffing him. “We had to make it as believable as possible.”

  “What are you talking about?” Peter said.

  “I thought that we’d gotten rid of all the bugs but then I found one in my house too,” Chip said.

  “What are you saying?” Peter asked confused. He’d remembered how Tony bugged his phone and car weeks prior but he thought they’d taken care of that.

  “I didn’t want you to catch on in case you slipped up and said something,” Chip told him.

  “Are you saying that--?” Peter said.

  “Do you think I’d ever leave you -- ever?” Chip asked, his eyes softening, his eyes moistening with tears. “You’re my everything.”

  Those words were exactly what Peter needed to hear and suddenly he took a deep breath as if he were breathing for the first time, as if everything he’d be through for the last few weeks had been lifted.

  Chip got down on his knees, his hands resting on Peter’s lap. He looked up at him, “Will you forgive me?”

  Peter’s lips quivered.

  “I was so afraid that you might -- do something … to yourself. I had some of my men keep an eye on you for afar, some old friends of mine at the station, just to make sure. I never want you to think for a second that I left you. I’d never.”

  “Then why did you -- why did you let me suffer like that?” Peter asked, half-angry, half-confused.

  “He, Tony told me that if he ever saw me near you -- that night when I pretended to break up with you, he told me that he’d have you killed just like Anton and I had to make sure that he believed we were over for our own good.”

  Suddenly, it was all starting to make sense to Peter.