I spent the rest of the evening packing my stuff in boxes to take to storage. No point in moving everything over to Isaac's apartment. For the sake of two months, I could live out of a suitcase. Besides, Isaac's apartment was fully furnished and very nice. I was already looking forward to sitting on his balcony and enjoying the views over the river Tagus.
When Monday didn't start in the best way, I knew there wouldn’t be much hope for the rest of the week. It began with a local furniture company withdrawing their offer so they could help furnish a homeless shelter. They’d originally promised us their old display bedrooms so we could finish furnishing the last few rooms we had left in the center. .
I couldn't even argue because it was also a good cause, but I was starting to get more and more fed up with the LGBTQ center’s help being withdrawn to support other causes that weren't ascontroversial, because somehow, helping young people in need became controversial from the moment their sexuality or gender preference came into play.
The rest of the week didn't fare any better. While we already had a few rooms furnished so we could offer emergency accommodation to LGBTQ youth, the fact was the building we were in was old and the running costs were increasing, as were the number of repairs that were needed. A meeting with the Lisbon Council representative was the final nail in the coffin. There were no additional funds for us this year, and since we already had the building, furnished accommodations, and all the facilities of a day youth center, there was no way they'd relocate us to better facilities elsewhere.
By the time I met my friend, police detective Fred, on Friday night, I was ready to forget the week.
"Hey, T, you look like you need to get drunk, laid, or both."
I laughed. I'd met Fred around four years ago when he came to the center to introduce himself as the detective in charge of missing persons. As a gay man himself, he took particular interest in cases that involved LGBTQ people. Not surprisingly, he hadn't been aware of my own ongoing case since his predecessor hadn't briefed him. That was something else that didn't surprise me. The man had been nothing short of a homophobe who kept insisting that my brother was likely dead because that's what happens to the majority of LGBTQ homeless kids.
I hadn't been too sure the young detective had enough experience to do any more than the last two detectives had done, but he'd proved me wrong.
In the last three years, Fred had used all the technology that was available to him to find Afonso. He seemed almost as invested in finding my brother as I was, which was something I couldn't quite understand but appreciated nonetheless.
"Freddie, sweet cheeks, have you got anything for me?"
That was the first question I asked every single time I saw Fred, and nine times out of ten the answer was no, but man did I live for the one time he said yes, even when it had turned out to be a dead end.
"Not today, babe."
The words were expected, but there was something behind them. Reticence? Did he know more than he could tell? Despite our friendship, I knew sometimes Fred couldn't tell me what he knew. I still trusted him to share what he had as soon as he could, so I decided to not give it too much thought.
"Well then, let's get drunk." I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the bar and ordered two shots and two beers.
As the alcohol settled in my stomach, I started feeling more and more relaxed. Most of the time, I was in control, always prepared in case I heard any news that meant I'd need to go get my brother. The times when I let go were few and far between, especially since Isaac got all loved up and then moved to New York, which increased my workload at the center.
The beat of the music was inviting, and I found myself wanting to let loose on the dance floor.
I took Fred's hand and pulled him toward the mass of bodies grinding and moving with the song.
Fred was taller and bigger than me, so I placed myself with my back to his front and wrapped his hands around my waist. We moved together to the rhythm of the song. Maybe it was the alcohol or the funky mood I was in, but suddenly I felt I needed more than the innocent grinding that we always defaulted to when we came out dancing.
When Fred first came to the center, he'd crushed hard on Isaac, who was at first totally unaware and then unavailable. Since then, I hadn't seen Fred with anyone, which wasn't to say he didn't date.
We had this unspoken agreement that we wouldn't take things any further than the drunken kiss we'd shared a few months ago. We both knew it wouldn't lead anywhere and could ruin our friendship.
Today, however, with his hardness grinding against my ass and his hands roaming my chest, I was ready to let go of that agreement and ask him to fuck me five ways into Sunday.
Fred was totally my type: taller than me, bigger and stronger, someone who lives to care for others. Maybe for tonight, I could pretend that we were into each other and I could chase the loneliness away. Just for tonight.
"What's going on in that pretty head of yours?" he said in my ear. It was loud enough to be heard over thethump thumpof the music, but quiet enough that his low voice and his breath on my ear made me shiver and my jeans tighten.
I turned around, and as he took in a breath when our hips lined up, Fred's eyes went dark and searching.
"Been a while for you, too?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said, running a hand through his short beard. "You know we shouldn't."
"I know. Don't you sometimes just want to forget about all the shouldn'ts?"
"More often than I care to admit."
"Do you ever give in?"
"No," he said. No further explanation needed.
