5

Jadon

“Unh-uh,” Jadon said. “Nope. No way.”

“Because you’re intimidated by him,” Allison said.

Vic shook his head. “Because he’s scared.”

“Fuck you,” Jadon said. “And fuck you. Respectfully.”

Allison laughed. Vic shook his head again, grinning.

The buzz of conversation filled the multipurpose room in the student union as they waited for the symposium to begin. Unlike the rest of the campus, with its turrets and buttresses and age-dark limestone, this space looked like it had been lifted out of an office supply catalogue: rows of laminate-top tables and plastic chairs that could be stored when they weren’t in use; a drop ceiling with fluorescent panels; blandly patterned carpet squares. Hints of the old design still showed in the windows and the mahogany trim. Jadon could hear the slightly accelerated rumble of his own heartbeat. He felt like everything had slowed down, or he’d sped up. Hyperaware—of Vic’s knee bumping his, the sound of a chair being dragged across the carpet, the smell of a woman’s perfume, summery, melon-y, out of season. The morning’s light was the color of eggshells, and he wondered why he’d never seen light that beautiful before.

Vic leaned in and whispered, “Reck, that kid is some grade-A pussy. I saw that tight little ass.”

“Vic!” Allison said.

Shrugging, Vic added in a slightly louder voice, “I’m serious: that thing would choke the life out of your dick.”

“Don’t talk about him like that,” Jadon said.

Vic smirked and spread his hands.

“Actually,” Jadon said, “don’t talk about anyone like that.”

“It’s a compliment—”

“It’s not a compliment. It’s objectifying, and it’s sexist, and it’s inappropriate. Especially for a law enforcement officer. And especially in a professional setting. And especially when you’re here because you run your mouth when you shouldn’t, and you’re talking to two people on the LGBTQ task force.”

A flush rose, only barely visible under Vic’s brown skin. The tear troughs under his eyes deepened. He sat back, hands up again, and said, “What crawled up your ass?”

“Just say you’re sorry, Vic,” Allison said.

“I’m sorry, Jesus Christ.”

Jadon held Vic’s gaze for a moment longer and then turned his gaze forward again. It was bad enough to be here, forced to sit and listen while self-proclaimed experts (experts on what, Jadon wasn’t exactly sure—being a gay cop, maybe?) yammered and yakked and went on and on for days, while the Lang case, and a dozen other cases, slipped out from under him. It was worse, though, that he had to do it with Vic Serrano sitting next to him. Vic wasn’t exactly a bad type, but he was an unrepentant asshole (as his most recent comment proved) whose career had stalled at detective and whose frustration was always finding new outlets. He’d been sent to the symposium, apparently for sensitivity training, after informing half of patrol that Captain Weaver had only made rank because he was a cocksucker and, on top of that, a citizen complaint that had suggested, without using the word, harassment. Jadon figured Vic’s biggest complaint about being sent for sensitivity training was that it was fucking up all his free time during his suspension.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Allison’s questioning look and gave back a tiny shake of his head in answer.

Vic shifted around in his seat a few times and finally said, “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Why aren’t you going to hit that?”

“Do you want to try that again?”

“Climb off the stick, Reck. I said I was sorry. He’s here. He couldn’t peel his eyes off you.” Vic smirked and gave Jadon’s new ensemble—Chouteau College sweats, fresh from the campus bookstore—a once over. “And you two have a vibe.”

“We’ve got a vibe?”

Allison nodded. “There’s definitely chemistry.”

“Who are you trying to help here?”

“Vic might be a dumpster-mouthed asshole of a savage—”

“Thank you,” Vic said.

“—but he’s not wrong. And you still haven’t answered his question: why not?”

“How about he’s out of my league?”

Allison rolled her eyes.

Vic’s voice softened. “Aww, Reck, buddy, you’re hot stuff.” He cupped himself. “I’d let you swing on my knob anytime.”

“How about you fuck off for five minutes, Vic?” Allison gestured toward the doors. “Why don’t you find a traffic cone to hump or something?”

“I’m going to get a coffee,” Vic said, giving himself a final jiggle. As he left, he added, “It’s to drink, Reck, not to wear, so don’t get excited.”

Jadon watched him go and shook his head. “That’s a walking case of sexual harassment.”

“Are you going to report him?”

“Are you kidding? He’d probably molest the HR person.”

With a quiet laugh, Allison shook her short bob of wavy blond hair. She was one of those women who were cursed to be both good at their jobs and unwilling to put up with bullshit, which meant that instead of being a lieutenant or even a sergeant, she was still a detective. She’d told him over too many margaritas, once, about the time she’d punched a drone from the Public Information Division who’d told her she was too pretty to waste on patrol.

For a few moments, the hum of background conversations filled the air between them. Then Jadon said, “I need to stay focused right now.”

Allison nodded.

“I’ve got a lot on my plate. The captain is gunning for me, I found out, and I’ve got these campus assaults going on that nobody seems to care about except me—”

“Which is why you’re here,” Allison said, “which is why you’re—how did Cerise put it? Getting your shit together. Right? Because you’re not going to give that fuck-off any more ammunition.”

“—and it’s not a good time for me. I can’t afford to get distracted.”

He didn’t say again. But Allison knew; everybody knew. He’d met Shaw Aldrich, and he’d been head over heels. He’d been in love, actually. And that meant he’d had his head in the clouds. That was why Barr was able to get away with what he did—the kidnappings, the torture, the killings. And that was why Jadon hadn’t had any idea what his partner was up to, not until it was too late.

Allison made a soft noise. “Jay, I get it, but—”

She cut herself off, and Jadon made a gimme gesture. “But?”

“I don’t know. Did you ever think that maybe—just maybe—you need to blow off some steam?”

“I’m sorry, are you telling me I need to get laid?”

“Well, you do.” Allison’s laugh had a trace of defensiveness, but it was still a laugh. “You’ve been running yourself into the ground; everybody can see it. You’re not taking care of yourself. You’re—” She stopped again.

“Falling apart?”

“Not happy. And you deserve to be happy.”

They’d put a bag over his head; he remembered that. Even when they’d used knives, even when they’d used jumper cables, the real fear had been the crinkling plastic. Every time he tried to take a breath, the plastic had sealed itself around his mouth and nose. He still dreamed about it.

“Yeah,” he said. “Well.” And then, still trying to shake off the memory, too late he heard himself say, “Nico’s such a great guy. He’s not a hookup. And that’s why I stopped texting him—”

Horror frosted Allison’s voice. “You ghosted him?”

“I didn’t ghost him. I just stopped texting him. Without any warning. Oh my God, I ghosted him. Okay, in my defense, he ghosted me too. I mean, it’s not like he tried to keep texting me.”

“Because you ghosted him! You can’t mutually ghost each other, Jadon.”

“I didn’t mean to ghost him. I…got busy.”

Allison reared back, studying him like she’d discovered a new kind of bug. “You’re an asshat,” she informed him.

“It’s not like I—”

“No, you are an asshat. And you’re taking him to dinner.”

“He doesn’t want to go to dinner with me.”

“Oh please. Vic was right, you know. He about licked your shirt off you. And he does have a cute butt.”

“Would you keep it down, please?” Jadon glanced around, an automatic check to see if anyone was listening. Then he hesitated. Near the door to the multipurpose room, a man in a security guard’s uniform slouched against the wall. Jadon pegged him at early twenties, maybe even younger, but he had a man’s body, hard and developed and packed into that navy uniform, with an uncompromising line of a mouth. For a moment, their gazes met. The guard pushed off from the wall, his movements casual as he let himself out of the room. But a little too fast. And a little too soon after he’d noticed Jadon watching him.

“What?” Allison asked, craning her head. “Something wrong?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Is this one of those tricks to make me forget what we were talking about? Because it’s not going to work. At a bare minimum, you owe him an apology. Especially if you want a second chance.”

Jadon pulled his gaze back to Allison. “I don’t want a second chance. Haven’t you been listening?”

“Yeah, I’ve been listening. You’re being a pussy.”

“We’re literally at a sensitivity training. You realize this is why they sent you and Vic here, right?”

“Here are the facts: you need to pull your life together, fast. You need to get laid, fast. And you’ve got this total babe practically melting every time you look at him. Plus, you need to apologize for being an asshat.”

“This is why they sent you to sensitivity training. You get that, right? You’re a bully. This is emotional abuse.”

“It’s dinner, Jay,” Allison said as a woman stepped up to the microphone. She turned forward with a tiny smirk. “You have to eat sometime. It might as well be with a guy whose ass can strangle your dick.”