“I know. I also know you don’t give a shit. Now tell me more about this delicate situation.”
“Tensions are running high, and if possible, I’d like to avoid all-out war.”
“Sounds very much like you, George.”
“Thank you. To do so, Andi and I want to keep our investigation as close to our chests as possible for as long as we can. That’s where you come into play.”
“You went to Evangeline first.” Andi knew Shireen long enough to see her pouting in her office at the Charleston PD.
“Because we needed her services first. It’s not a reflection on your awe-inspiring skill set.”
“Nice save, George. Out with it. When the foreplay is this long, you usually want to lay me out flat and bury me in work.”
“Uhm—” For a moment, his usually articulate partner was at a loss. Andi thought it was the mention of foreplay. George wasn’t a prude, not in the least, but he had a healthy respect for the women he worked with and was always careful not to give even the slightest hint of sexual harassment. Andi had a suspicion it was less of fear of a lawsuit and more because his mother, Miranda Donovan, had taught her sons to be respectful and wary of women who knew how to squash an enemy beneath their heels. In his time in Charleston, Andi had seen a few men trying to fuck with Shireen and Evangeline. None of them were around anymore, and in the case of Shireen’s stepfather, nobody knew where to find him. Nobody but me, and I’m not telling.
“Well, if you put it like that.” George had found his voice again.
“I do. Now spill.”
“We’re going to send you a list of nine people who died in the last year. All of them were killed in accidents with arthropods. What we need from you is an extensive background on all and possible connections between them. Don’t let anything out.”
“You’re scraping at the bottom of the barrel, aren’t you?” Shireen’s voice was dry.
“Not so much scraping as scrubbing to make sure there’s no residual dirt left. As I said, the situation is delicate, and we can’t afford any mistakes.”
“Wow, speak about putting the pressure on. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”
“Thank you, Shireen. We really appreciate it.”
“Don’t mention it, George, but you owe me another bowl of your raspberry cream. Make that two. Now go on and send me the names. Time’s a ticking.”
The line went dead.
“She’s such a ray of sunshine.” George stared at his cell.
“She let you off easily, and you know it.” Andi leaned back on the cushion, feeling the stress even this short phone call with a friendly person had caused.
“Why is it that I have to pay for the favors we call in?”
“Two reasons.” Andi held up his index finger, even though it took more effort than he liked. “You’re the better cook, and you actually pay.”
“Hmpf. I was sure it was punishment of some kind.” George started tugging off his shoes and socks, followed by his shirt.
“What for? Besides, there’s tons of people who would say working with me is the worst punishment imaginable.”
“And they would be so wrong.” George climbed onto the bed next to Andi, grabbing his hips and dragging him to his front. “Working with you may not be easy, but the things I get to see, to learn—meeting you has opened up my world in ways I could’ve never imagined. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
With a sigh, Andi snuggled closer to George, soaking up his warmth. His lover placed a kiss on his ear.
“Breathing?”
“Breathing.” Closing his eyes, Andi concentrated on the rise and fall of George’s chest, on the soft currents their breaths were creating, swirling in the air like dancers on ecstasy, nothing notable for them, they didn’t even feel the currents they elicited, that’s how small they were, how insignificant to them. In and out, just flowing, disturbing the natural state of the room, dancing around and around, soaring high and plummeting deep, miniature weather in a confined space, the arthropods felt it, the troughs and ridges moving the spider’s web in the corner, forcing the fruit flies that had come in through the window to beat their translucent wings more forcefully to not be smashed against the wall, caressing the scales on the moth’s wings, not waking it, it was too early still, a few colored specks trailing on the breeze, dust particles whirling around, telling stories only the silverfish would understand, though they weren’t interested, just like the mites, all they cared about was the food in the mattress, in and out, the breath of giants in a world of dwarves and Andi was both, always caught in between, always seeing both sides, understanding neither, because what did he care what his breath was doing to the other inhabitants of this room and why would he breathe if it caused so much disturbance and then there was the thump, thump, thump of two hearts, George’s slow and steady, matching his breathing, Andi’s a little faster, still working hard because his adrenaline hadn’t completely lowered yet, why had the black widow done it, why had the hornets attacked, no reason and yet there had to be, they rarely did things that weren’t linked to survival or procreation, in and out, George’s hand on his hip, softly caressing his flank, his lover’s dark skin such a stark contrast to the pale white, beautiful, his, he would hold on to him, not letting him go unless George told him he was finally sick of Andi and all the drama he brought with him.
“Stop thinking, dear. Try to sleep.”
Andi grabbed George’s hand, gave it a squeeze. “I’m trying.”
“Good.”
