“Twenty,” I shot back. “How do you know him?”
“Busted his boyfriend a few times.”
“Prick?”
“Prisc.”
“That’s what I meant.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t,” I agreed.
Dave nodded, stepping over the back of my sofa and sliding down into the comfy seats. I hoped that Peter and I didn’t leave any mess on there. As surreptitiously as possible, I examined the leather.
“I cleaned it off,” Dave said. “A bed too much work for you two?”
He was taking this astonishingly well. “No,” I said carefully. “It was unexpe— Why are we discussing my sex life like it isn’t stunning news?”
“Stunning, is it? At your first ‘fabulous’, I’m outta here.”
“Comes to that, I’ll shoot myself. Don’t worry.” We sat in silence for a few seconds before I added, “Luis told you about the suspension?”
“Nah. Didn’t have to. Word got around.”
“A party just for me? I don’t know what to say, Dave. I’m touched.”
“Del’s an ass. You should have kicked it.”
“To be fair I didn’t threaten to kick his ass so much as to shove my foot deep up in there.”
“Surprised he didn’t report that as sexual harassment.”
I grinned. “Beer?”
“One of yours. The cans I brought will explode.” He crossed his ankles on my coffee table.
From the kitchen I brought two opened bottles of Guinness, handed one to Dave and retook my seat next to him while he flipped channels, settling on a repeat of last night’s baseball game. Far too many of my pay channels were sports related—I even had international sports. Maybe I was overcompensating?
I was trying to stop thinking about Peter’s naked body when Dave stole a spot in my thoughts. “Lemme ask you something, Oz. You tryin’ to destroy your career?”
“Only if I can do so in a blaze of naked gay glory,” I replied sardonically. I wasn’t the least bit defensive. Dave was only looking out for me.
“Fucking a witness, threatening Del in the middle of the station, Oz? If anyone but Luis told me this shit, I’d fucking say they were lying. No way would Austin Glass do anything to risk his chances with the FBI.”
“The FBI is overrated,” I lied.
“Oz, what’s up, man?” We still hadn’t managed even a glance at each other since I sat down. My head fell back, eyes closed while my fingernails stripped the label off my bottle. I didn’t have an answer for him. Thankfully, Peter made his appearance, watching me as he sank into the recliner.
Maybe Peter was the answer. The problem and the answer. The answer without being a solution. Another tick in the inconsistent life of Austin Glass.
He was wearing my sweats and college t-shirt again. The welling of emotion that came from seeing him in my clothes was impossible to explain. Everything I felt for Peter was impossible to explain.
And he had a beer.
“There are two cops here,” I warned, an eyebrow going up at Peter.
“I can fuck you, but not drink your beer?”
Lord, give me strength, and a steady hand for when I shoot him in the face. I stood up and snatched the beer from his hand, setting it down on the coffee table and breathing out as I sat down again. “I did not say you could fuck me and—”
One side of Peter’s lips ticked up. “Way you were bent on that sofa a few min—”
“Say it,” I warned, ‘and I’ll shove my foot up your ass!”
“Kinky,” Peter murmured, not hiding his grin.
Dave took a swig of his drink, still staring at the screen. He hadn’t spared us a glance during that whole argument. “Have you got some sort of foot-in-ass fetish? Del’s ass and now Peter’s.”
“I think it’s just feet. He’s obsessed with me in slippers,” Peter said quietly, tapping something into his phone.
“Christ. I’d choose a lobotomy over being with either one of you right now.” I scrubbed a hand over my face.
“Can I log into my email account on that?” Peter asked, nodding at the laptop. “Darryl sent the accounting records.”
Uh—Help
Having downloaded both sets of records—one set from the computer Luis brought, and one set from Peter’s mail—I began perusing them while Peter and Dave chatted. And by ‘chatted’ I mean that “uh” littered conversation when one person had seen the other naked and was probably doing his utmost to not think about where the other guy’s dick had just been—namely in the his best friend’s ass. I could have corrected that assumption, but I was too busy doing the this-isn’t-happening avoidance thing by staring at the computer screen and endeavoring to work.