Bad Boy 3 Page 4

  “Sure. Both. Honestly I didn’t have much of an appetite until now... but I need to eat.”

  Chip made him a couple of fried eggs, toast, sliced tomato, and grapes. They drank a beer together and said very little until the squad car rolled up. Another officer, an overweight one, Doug, came in and sat down. Peter filed a missing person report for Anton, and Peter gave him all the emergency contact information he had, and gave a statement about his whereabouts and everything else he could remember about that night.

  “I’m afraid it looks pretty bad, Mr. Vanderbilt,” he said. “We’ve called a woman from the city forensics lab to come down about the blood.”

  “Blood?” Chip asked. “You never said anything about any blood.”

  Peter was mortified. He should’ve told Chip. In fact, it might be a sign that the worst possible thing had happened. But honestly, he was hiding everything he could from Chip. First of all, because he didn’t want his prospective boyfriend to worry. Second, because he was afraid of driving him off. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, because he was tangling himself deeper and deeper into a web of complicated lies and half-truths: and the less Chip knew, the easier it was to manage that.

  “I wasn’t sure if it was blood. I mean, I thought it was. But I didn’t want to sound crazy. There was a stray alley cat in the house ... I thought maybe it hurt itself on the broken glass in the window.”

  “Well, I ain’t no spatter expert,” said Doug, tucking in the shirt that hung over his belly, “but that wasn’t cat blood. In a bathtub like that, it’s not usually just an accident. Something happened at your house tonight, Mr. Vanderbilt. I suggest you stay away from the premises until the investigation is closed. Stay with friends or family until this is over.”

  “That’s crazy, I can’t ... I can’t afford to go anywhere else. I can probably barely afford to have guy come fix the door.”

  “You can stay here, Peter,” said Chip. “No problem. No hesitation. We have a guest room.”

  Peter nodded gratefully. This was too much. Too much was going on.

  “Do you have any idea what happened?” Peter asked.

  Doug shook his head. “No idea. Nothing was stolen. Nothing was touched. Something else is going on here that we don’t have information about. Perhaps something private about Anton’s life.”

  Or mine, thought Peter.

  “Well, Doug, thanks for looking into it,” said Chip.

  “Yeah, Doug. It means a lot. I’m worried sick. I can’t imagine what’s going on,” Peter said, taking a deep breath.

  “It’ll all come out in the wash, sooner or later,” Doug said, looking Peter cleanly in the eye. Peter gulped and prayed that it was later, rather than sooner. They said “goodbye” to Doug and shut the front door, standing together in silence before Chip walked Peter into the living room.

  “No, sit down, next to me,” Chip said. Peter obeyed, sitting up almost as if he were a bad boy expecting punishment for his wrong doing. He'd be lying to himself if he said that he didn't like the idea. The thought of Chip overpowering him and punishing him sent an erotic thrill through Peter, enough to give him a temporary escape from the night’s events.

  Chip took his hand and leveled a serious gaze into his eyes. “Now, are you alright?” His eyes were so cool, piercing, and bright: Peter felt as if he was looking into a couple of giant sapphires. Again, the desire to confess everything came up and to let Chip know. Things were totally out of control. His life was full of threats and danger, and Chip was so Zen about everything. Peter’s trust in him grew by the second, and he wished he could put all in Chip’s capable hands.

  Peter let out another little sigh and offered a rueful, crooked smile. “Yeah, I … I’m just glad you’re here. It’s probably nothing. Like you said, there’s probably some commonsense explanation. It’s just that it’s weird. All of it.” Peter frowned, unable to shake the uneasy feeling he'd had all night.

  “Well, listen. After you work tomorrow, we’ll go look around ourselves and see if we can’t figure anything out tomorrow at the apartment.”

  “Oh,” Peter said, remembering he had to see Tony after school, “I’ve got something to do afterward, but before is fine.” He tried to play it off as though it were no big deal, but it was difficult. He was assailed with immediate guilt.

  Chip looked at him for awhile, “You do?” he said, “What could be more important than getting to the bottom of this?” His tone was accusatory, as if he knew what was really going on. It made Peter wince.

  “I’m sure we can figure it out in the morning,” Peter said, hoping to get out of the conversation, hoping to change the subject and distract Chip enough so that he wouldn't ask him any more questions that made him feel guilty or that forced him to lie. “Dinner was delicious tonight.” He smiled hopefully.

  Chip just studied him some more. He smiled, although it was a tight, sad smile. Chip then looked down and took a deep breath.

  “Peter, I’m going to need a big favor from you,” Chip said.

  “What’s that?” Peter thought he would do just about anything for this wonderful man.

  “If we’re going to see each other, if we're going to date, I need you to always be honest with me.” Peter's heart sank at Chip's words. It wasn't that what Chip was asking for was unreasonable; it was anything but. It was fair and it shouldn't be so difficult for him to answer, to make that promise. But there they sat, Chip's words, like a stone in his stomach.

  “I am,” Peter said, his voice going up an octave and breaking slightly. He cleared his throat to hide the vocal slip up, but he knew it gave him away.

  Chip looked at him again and Peter knew he didn’t completely believe him. “And I’m going to need you to trust me. Like I said, you can tell me anything. There’s nothing to be afraid of, and there’s nothing we can’t work through together.” He said it all so earnestly, opening and bearing his open heart to Peter.

  He squeezed Peter’s hand and Peter could see the sincerity in his eyes. Suddenly, Peter felt like crying. Peter's throat tightened and his eyes stung and burned with tears he just didn't want to shed. He wanted to tell Chip everything: to confide in someone. It was the first time in a long time he felt anyone truly cared with no agenda attached. He needed that more than he needed anything. Peter bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep the tears from coming, but it was to no avail. A lone tear slid down his cheek.

  He wiped it away almost as quickly as it fell.

  “Hey, hey, what’s going on, baby?” Chip asked him tenderly. “Tell me.”

  Peter tried to smile through the tears. He wasn’t about to do the ugly cry. And he couldn't tell Chip. God, how he wanted to, but for tonight, he just wanted to be held and treated kindly. He just wanted Chip's warmth and company. Truth was, Peter was scared. It had occurred to him that Tony had done something to Anton. For what reason, he could only guess. Maybe it was a warning. Maybe it was a punishment. Whatever it was, it was working. Peter was terrified.

  “I just … thank you. I really needed to hear that,” Peter said. Chip pulled him closer into an embrace. It felt so warm and safe to be held by such a strong man, someone who cared that much, someone that loving. He’d never really experienced that before. His relationship before felt so transactional and the only thing they ever talked about was the weather and sports, which bored Peter to death. But this? This was already so different. It was all he'd ever wanted. If only he could just come clean and put this all behind him.

  Peter’s body shook as he cried onto Chip’s shoulder. He wet Chip's shirt with his tears and bit down on his bottom lip to keep from sobbing loudly. He would hate to wake Johnny because he was crying. And once he started, it was very hard to stop. It was as though he'd been holding onto all those tears for a long time and now they were all coming out. He cried and cried and let the burning, flushing feeling in his tear ducts take away all his fears and misgivings.

  “Listen to me, I’m here for you, okay? You don’t have to talk ab
out it now. Just whenever you’re ready, know that you have a shoulder to cry on, someone who’ll listen to you, who won’t judge. No matter what.”

  His strong hands rubbed the middle of his back and his shoulders. It just felt like the essence of love to Peter, exactly what he needed, what he’d been missing. Those strong hands smoothed away all his stress and bad feelings, working out the kinks in the tight muscles. Peter breathed a sigh of relief. He could feel Chip's warm breath on his neck and he knew what the strong, sexy body looked like behind him. He had to stop. Not tonight. He was just too vulnerable.

  “I appreciate that, thank you, but could we … could you just hold me tonight?” Peter said, feeling like such a sap, but he couldn’t help himself. He tensed, ready for rejection or ridicule.

  “Of course, babe. Lie down,” Chip said. “Let me just check on Johnny one more time.”

  “Okay,” Peter said. He couldn't suppress his private smile.

  “You going to be all right?” Chip asked, starting to get up.

  “Yeah,” Peter said, smiling as he looked up at him.

  “Okay,” Chip said, tip-toeing over to the Johnny's bedroom to look through the crack. Johnny was clearly sleeping because Peter could hear him snoring. Peter tried not to focus on his sexy ass when he walked away, but he just couldn't help himself.

  “He’s pretty loud for such a little guy,” Peter chuckled, as Chip slipped onto the couch behind him.

  “I know, gets it from his dad.” Chip said this sheepishly.

  “Oh really?” Peter asked, one brow cocked.

  “Yes.” Chip blushed, “Sorry, I snore like a bear.”

  “No, that’s fine. It’s … to me? It’s kind of cute.” Peter said, smiling as Chip wrapped his strong arms around him and snugly pulled Peter against him.

  “We’ll see how cute you feel it is when you don’t get any sleep tonight.” Chip said with a wry smile.

  “We’ll see about that,” Peter said, smirking back.

  “Ready for bed?”

  “Yeah,” Peter said.

  They walked back to Chip’s room. Brushed their teeth. Washed their faces and crawled into cool linens. Chip pulled Peter toward him, curling his arms around Peter's middle.

  Peter chuckled resting his hand on top of Chip’s.

  “Thank you,” Peter said after a long stretch of peaceful silence.

  “For what?” Chip asked.

  “For this. For you being you.” Peter said. He meant it too. For right now, this moment, he was so grateful. He hated to think what a mess he'd have been if Chip weren't there.

  That’s when Chip kissed him on the top of his head.

  “Goodnight,” he said, his voice soft and laden with affection.

  The gesture was sweet and loving and exactly what Peter needed to feel and hear in that moment.

  And though he could feel Chip starting to get hard behind him, he knew Chip would not try to take advantage of the situation tonight. Even if Peter rather liked the idea of being taken advantage of, he just wasn't in the mood for that at the moment. This was special. It made him feel safe. It’d been a long time since he’d felt this secure with someone, and he knew Chip would be behaved. He was too much of a gentleman to just give into his urges. The day had been so exhausting anyway that both of them quickly dropped off into a deep, heavy sleep.

  CHAPTER 5

  After another exhausting day at the school, Peter had just grabbed his dinner, a fried egg and leftover pasta, when his phone buzzed.

  Meet me the Casino tonight. Be here at 8 sharp. Wear something nice. Valet will park your car. Drop my name.

  Peter sighed in exasperation. That was only forty minutes away. Or was it thirty? Suddenly, it seemed that the clock had changed: he only had five minutes. He wolfed down the food, threw on a clean button-down shirt and black slacks and combed his fingers through his hair. Hopefully, this would all be over soon. He was feeling so frustrated and exhausted with everything, and the last thing he needed was to add a few more hours onto his workday.

  He pulled into the parking lot and a pimply valet came up to his beat-up Camry with a suspicious look on his face.

  “Yeah, Tony said you guys would park my car,” Peter told him.

  Hearing that, the valet turned white as a ghost.

  “Yeah. Yeah. Sure. Whatever you say,” he answered.

  The kid got in and left Peter standing in front of the palatial tower of the Casino, The Bella Luna. The setting sun had painted the sky purple in the east and brilliant crimson in the west, and the hot Nevada wind whipped through Peter’s hair. His phone beeped just as he reached the doors. His heart was racing, thinking about seeing Tony again. What if he found out about him spending the night with Chip? What if he had something to do with Anton’s disappearance?

  No time to meet tonight. Tony’s message said. I’m talking to your boss. Go to the 30th floor. Hannah will show you where to go.

  “Talking to my boss?” Peter shouted out loud. What the hell did that mean? His boss? Then it dawned on him, Tony knew which elementary school he worked at. Did he talk to his principal?

  He stormed through the revolving doors and past the cacophony of the slot machines, the bewildering lights and colors of the pachinko machines, the dealers in their striped coats at the crap tables, and all the other sounds and visions until he found his way to the elevators in the back.

  A rising anxiety filled his muscles and made the back of his neck tense. Tony was talking to the principal? Why on earth? The floor of the elevator rumbled, and he remembered what he was headed toward: his first client. He had no idea what to expect. Some fat sixty-year-old business mogul? Another Italian goodfella like Tony?

  The doors opened on the thirtieth floor. Black marble tile stretched out beneath a few chairs upholstered in red velvet and a small receptionist’s desk where a woman sat in cat-eye glasses. A white Persian cat was curled up on her desk.

  “Peter?” asked the woman.

  “Y-yeah?”

  “Mr. Noyes is waiting in room six. He’ll be expecting you any minute, but help yourself to a beverage at the bar.”

  Peter looked up at the vaulted ceiling and gaudy, hundred-light chandelier that hung overhead. At the mini bar, Peter poured a glass of something from a pitcher and took a few big gulps of the sweet liquid before setting the glass down and wandering back to a suite of rooms marked with gilt Roman numerals. It had been a long time since he saw any of those. Was it XI? or VI?

  Finally, he swung aside the door VI and walked in.

  It was a dimly lit room. No candles though; just pale blue and pink track lighting and ambient music playing. Everything was covered in lapis lazuli colored blue tiles, floor, ceiling, and walls. Some incense or scented oil had made everything smell like eucalyptus, bright and effervescent. It was then that Peter noticed somebody was watching him.

  “Hello there,” said a voice to his left. Peter jolted and looked over. In an alcove with an arched entrance was a Jacuzzi that steamed into a constellation of hanging blue and green lights in little globes. It was the most magical hot tub Peter had ever seen.

  Within the emerald lighting of the hot tub sat a broad-shouldered silhouette: a man whose presence seemed solid, immovable, and calm as a mountain. Peter swallowed hard and wondered when

  “Hi,” he said, timidly. “I’m Peter.”

  “I’m Nate,” the man said. His voice was a low bass rumble.

  “Nice to meet you,” Nate said. He didn’t get up, move, or say anything else. Peter shifted awkwardly from foot to foot.

  “Come in,” Nate said. “The water is nice.”

  Peter trembled a bit and felt his whole body craving that exact thing. But what about Chip? How far would this go? The eucalyptus poured off the water and made him feel rejuvenated just from smelling it.

  “Yeah, sure,” Peter said, even though he knew he shouldn’t go in.

  “It wasn’t a suggestion,” Nate laughed. He smiled in the dark. He had a broad, massive s
mile. Lots of great sharp white teeth and one canine that glinted: solid gold. He was handsome. More than handsome, he was kind of monstrously rugged: the kind of guy who made Peter scared and horny all at once. A beast. A big thug with razor stubble, a cleft in his chin, and eyebrows like Tom Selleck. Hair more pepper than salt. Eyes that were dark as black patent leather.

  Peter stripped off his shoes, socks, and shirt. He folded his pants and laid them on a little shelf of tile, wagging his buttocks a little for Nate.

  “Mmm,” the man grumbled.

  “You like that?” Peter said softly, trying to play up his confidence: his impostor syndrome in this job was becoming less and less powerful. That is to say, he felt a little more comfortable every time he decided to be flirtatious, to be naughty. He enjoyed it a little more each time, too.

  “Take those drawers off, nice and slow for me,” Nate grumbled. Was that a hint of a southern accent?

  Peter smirked and slid his tight Ralph Lauren briefs down off of one cheek at a time, rotating slowly as he did it.

  “Hmm-hmm,” Nate chuckled. “That’s what I wanna see.”

  Peter flicked the underwear off one toe into the heap of his clothes and sauntered over to the hot tub.

  “You’re a well-endowed boy,” Nate said. “Where you from?”

  Peter blushed and covered himself with one hand. “Thanks. I’m from Oregon. How about you?”

  “I’d rather keep myself a mystery,” Nate said. “You understand.”

  Peter nodded and dipped one toe into the Jacuzzi. It was very, very hot.

  “Come in slowly,” Nate said. “It’s worth the pain.”

  Peter took a deep breath and sank one inch at a time into the scalding water. Finally, his lungs filled with the steam and with his skin bright pink from the heat, he felt as if his whole body was dissolving into the water.

  “Ahhh,” he sighed. All his worries, the stress of Tony, of Chip, of Brad’s weirdness, Anton’s drama, money, kindergarteners, administrators, parents, and his own insecurities washed away.