“And that’s more important? Saving face with your cop friends is more important than being true to yourself? To who you are?”
“What? Do you seriously think any of this is because I’mgay? Fuck that, anyone who doesn’t know it isn’t paying attention. But you’re—” It didn’t make sense that he was having to say this. Wade knew it already, knew it longer and better than Jericho did. “You’re a criminal. You’re the guy my ‘cop friends’ spend their days trying to arrest.”
“Someof your ‘cop friends,’” Wade said. He leaned back in his chair, his posture insolent and defiant. “But I’ve had cops on my payroll, and cops that come by my bar for drinks after work without worrying about my bad influence, or at least they did before the place burned down.”
“Before you burned it down,” Jericho corrected.
Wade didn’t even acknowledge the interruption. “The only cops who have a problem with me are the fucking feds, and those bastards are so hung up on their fucking war against drugs that they don’t care if they tear this town apart, don’t care if they arrest every damn person living here, as long as they make sure the addicts in the cities keep paying top dollar for their smuggled-in shit.”
“So the DEA is here with a price-fixing agenda? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”
“The DEA is just another player in the fucked-up game of the world.” Wade leaned forward, his gaze intent. “No good guys, no bad guys. Remember? You think that only applies when brain-injured people kill whores? No, italwaysfucking applies.”
“And that means I should just ignore everything? Ignore—” Damn, this wasn’t going to sound good, and he knew it. “You break the law like it’s nothing. You manipulate people—you manipulateme—like it’s all a game. Shit, say itisall a game. Because games have sides, don’t they? You and me, are we on the same side any way you try to set the game up?”
Wade seemed almost—no, not hurt, not for the second time in one day. Jericho couldn’t accept that. But he seemed confused, surprised by Jericho’s words. “You and me are always on the same side,” he said as if it were an obvious truth, at least to him. “Any way that counts, any way that matters? We’re on the same side.”
Jericho stared at him. “So now maybe it’s my turn to try to keepyoufrom getting hurt by reality. I should try to keep the world from disappointingyou. Because, fuck, Wade. We arenoton the same side. Not according to the world. And not according to you a couple months ago. You remember that? You pulled a fucking gun on me, right over there?”
“I said ‘any way that matters,’” Wade said gently. “I never mentioned anything about ‘according to the world.’ And it’s not like I shot you.”
“It’s that easy for you? No, fuck that. If your criminal friends found out you were involved with me? Not using me, not buying information from me, but actually, sincerelyinvolvedwith me? If your Canadian drug contacts knew you were dating an under-sheriff, if the Chicago connections you worked so hard to build found out, if the old crowd from your bar knew you cared about me—that would be totally fine with them? They’d celebrate your love, I’m fucking sure.” Jericho was glad he was on his feet, because it was easier for him to step away from the couch, away from Wade. “Don’t act like this is just me. It’s not, and you know it.”
“It’s just you who’s letting it get in the way.”
“It’s just me who has any damn sense, then.”
Wade swung his legs around and surged to his feet, power and grace perfectly balanced even in such a simple movement. “Fine,” he said. “You’ve got some damn sense. So why were you asking me to go to the bedroom?”
“Because fucking you isn’t the problem here! God, if this was only about sex, everything would be easy. I’ve fucked lots of guys, and none of them caused me the trouble you do. None of them—” What? None of them mattered? That wasn’t quite true, but it was true enough that Jericho didn’t have the courage to say it out loud. “None of them had the history you and me have.”
“There’s nothing to be done about history.”
“I don’t even know what we’re talking about anymore. I said bedroom, you said dirty secret, I said—what? What are we saying?”
“I think we’re saying good night. I came over to check on you, that’s all. I wanted to be sure you were okay. And you are, so mission accomplished.”
“And am I going to find out that Nikki was off making some big border run or something tonight, and you just happen to have an iron-clad alibi by being here?”
“So suspicious, Jericho.”
“I have every reason to be, and you damn well know it.”
Wade’s naughty-little-boy grin shouldn’t have been charming. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He started for the door.
“Wait,” Jericho said. Wade turned around. “Snakes. Did Cory Barker really have snakes in that house?”
“He did. You should ask the feds what they did with them; maybe Elijah can go visit them at animal control or something.”
“He’s not going to visit snakes anywhere they might be up for adoption. Nikki would kill me, and I couldn’t blame her.”
“They’re a vilified animal, snakes are.” Wade turned his back and took another step toward the door. “I’ve never had a problem with them. They just seem to be living according to their nature. You know?”
“You’re not a snake, Wade. You’re living the way you want, not the way youhaveto live.”
“Well of course I’m not a snake. What a strange thing for you to say.” And with that, Wade was out the door. He closed it gently behind him, and Jericho was left alone. Lonely, just as Wade had said.
