Chapter Eight
Drivingthrough the darkening night towards New Orleans and Ethan, I thought about everything that had happened the night we met. The situation scared me now, especially when I remembered Patrick’s reaction to the incident and what he said he’d been working on for the past several years. I needed to know what was really going on, so I hit my Bluetooth on my steering wheel and called the man in question. As usual, it went to voicemail, but I knew he’d call me back as soon as he saw it was me. Patrick never answered the phone when it rang. He was convinced if he did, it would be bad news. He had reasons for that, but we never talked about that time in his life anymore.
Sure enough, my phone rang in the car a few minutes later so I pushed the button on my steering wheel and answered in our usual way, “I could have been dying in a ditch and needed you to rescue me, asshole, answer the damn phone.”
And just as usual, Patrick answered, “If you could call me, you could call nine-one-one, and they would have been there sooner than I could. Quit your bitching and tell me what you’re calling me on Christmas fucking eve for. You’re in the middle of family harmony and all that bullshit, aren’t you?”
I must have been quiet a little too long because his tone changed subtly and he asked, “Why are you in your car, James? You’re supposed to be doing the family thing at the Falling Star tonight. Ladd called me last week and was so excited about it. He said it was going to be a special night and wanted me to come, but I told him I had a prior commitment. Of everyone in the world, you should be there, James, so why the fuck are you in your car? What happened?”
There was no getting around this, so I went straight up the middle. “I’m on my way to New Orleans to pick up Ethan, the bartender from The Swallow? We’ve been talking the last couple of months, but he got attacked Friday night and swears the guy who hurt him is going to kill him. He’s scared and hurt, and I’m bringing him home with me, but that’s not why I’m calling you. I’m calling because he says it’s the same guy that hurt that kid Donnie and I need to know what’s going on. Is he really in danger?”
I heard Patrick cursing under his breath for a minute, then. “Yeah, if he’s mixed up with Marcus, he’s very much in danger. He needs to get out of town and stay there. Even then, it just depends. These assholes have a long reach when they want to.”
“Trick, who are these guys? Who is Marcus? What do they want with Ethan?” I knew he could hear my growing frustration when he continued.
“James, calm down. You do not need to worry about any of that. You just get Ethan and take him home with you. He’ll be much safer out of the city, but I would like to ask him some questions before he leaves. Can I come by his place before you leave?”
“If it’ll help you get this guy, then yeah, I have his address written down, just a second.”
“Nah, it’s okay. I know exactly where he lives. He’s in the garage apartment behind a few of my associates.”
“Your associates? What are you talking about? Ethan said his landlords were a fireman, EMT, and nurse.”
“Yeah, they are, but they work with me when I need them, too. I’ll call and explain the situation and tell them I’m coming over. I’ll call Nick, too, and let him know. Might get him to come over, too. I’ll see you over at Ethan’s in a few hours. Don’t leave until I have time to get there, okay?”
“Who the hell is Nick?” I asked, but the only answer was dead air.
I guess I’d find out soon enough.
* * *
Three hoursand several weird conversations later, and I finally had Ethan and his meager stack of belongings in my SUV headed back home. It was closing in on midnight, so I lightly touched Ethan on his jeans-clad thigh and said, “Merry Christmas.”
Ethan turned away from the window and the amber-colored glow of the highway speeding past to smile at me wryly. “Yeah, it’s very Merry this year, beat to hell and running away like a coward. It’s the most wonderful time of the year, for sure.” His sarcasm was obviously hiding his sadness and fear, so I let him have that defense, for now. I couldn’t let him get away with one thing, though.
“You’re no coward, Ethan, not at all. From what Patrick and Nick told you, this is the best thing you can do right now. They know what they’re talking about because they’ve been working on this case for a long time. You had to get out, and I’m happy I can give you a safe place to start over. I wish Jensen would do the same. He’s welcome anytime. There’s plenty of room at the house for him, too.” I wanted Ethan to feel as comfortable as possible with this situation and know he was by no means a coward for staying safe.
Ethan snorted at the mention of Jensen, and I laughed along with him. Jensen had looked like a harmless little thing but had come at me like a hostile defense attorney. “I couldn’t believe he asked you what your intentions were. I’m so sorry. I never expected him to be that in your face.”
“It was fine, he obviously cares about you, and I would have been surprised if he didn’t at least want to meet me. You’re moving to a new state and living in my house. I’m sure he had some concerns.”
“Yeah, he had a few,” Ethan said with a smirk. “But I had told him about almost all of our conversations, so he knew you as well as I do, or almost as well. He knew I needed to leave though, and this was my best chance to do that safely.” He reached out and put his hand on my thigh this time and squeezed. “Thank you so much for doing this for me, Jay. It means so much to me. We can keep getting to know each other in real life now instead of just online. I can’t wait to really talk and learn all about you.”
The turn of the conversation was making me very nervous. Our situation had changed with these events. I was surprised Ethan didn’t realize there was no way I would take advantage of him and try to date him while he was seeking shelter in my home. I needed to steer him into something safer, so I asked, “So can I ask you something?”
Ethan squeezed my thigh again, and I couldn’t help but like it. When I realized there were a tingle and tightness of my jeans just from his touch, I shifted in my seat to get more comfortable, and he finally moved his hand. He looked at me with an odd turn of his head and answered, “Um, sure, you can ask me anything.”
“What’s the story with the ironing board?” I asked and had to shift again when Ethan laughed long and deep. He had the best laugh, and it hit some button I didn’t even know I had.
“That was thanks to my gran. She taught me from a young age to always look my best, especially if I felt my worst. She told me the key to always looking pulled together was to never be a wrinkled mess, so she taught me to iron. Over the years, I learned to love ironing. It’s a mindless activity, full of repetition, but you get so much satisfaction from it.”
I glanced over, and Ethan was looking back at me while he talked. In the intermittent glow of the highway lights, his eyes were bright and his hand motions told how much he loved this topic. Who knew you could be excited about ironing? As I turned back to the road in front of me, he continued on.
“So, you have this shirt or a sheet, and it’s a complete wrinkled blob from the dryer or from hanging on the line.”
Ethan’s voice was sounding a little less manic and more, something else, now.
“You put it on the board and start to iron out those wrinkles a little at a time. You have to start easy and let the steam build slowly. You can’t rush it in the beginning, or you’ll make mistakes.”
