Cole McGinnis 05 - Down and Dirty (23 page)

His elbow spurted a bit of blood, and Bobby pulled back, shaking off the tingling shooting up into his fingers and over his shoulder. Twisting his arm, he quickly assessed the damage, flicking off a few specks of glass embedded in his skin, then waited as the indicator lights above the doors wavered between floors.

Gears and pulleys ground to a halt, and somewhere in the building, a tinny alarm rang off, warning the inhabitants of a possible emergency in the elevator well. Ichiro reached Bobby’s side with the keys, panting heavily.

“Tripped over the couch. Feels like I broke a toe.” Holding out the keys, he bent over to catch his breath. “Oh shit, there’s glass. What did you do? Did you break that?”

“Yeah, it’s a trigger to stop the elevator.” Bobby watched the numbers above his head, satisfied he’d caught the car before it’d hit any of the lower floors. “Watch your feet.”

“Are you sure you should be going after him?” Ichi carefully picked his way clear of the scattered glass. “Maybe he needs time to cool down?”

“No, I fucked this up. I should have told him way before this. God knows what he’s… he’s my kid. Finding his old man with another guy’s dick up his ass isn’t how he should find these kinds of things out.” Bobby grimaced when he heard himself. “Not that your dick’s a bad thing—”

“No offense taken.” Ichi waved away Bobby’s apology. “To be fair, my dick had left said ass by the time he came in.”

“Okay. Elevator’s stopped, and I’ve got to find that damned key on here. I’m going to go fix this. Should have been honest with that kid from the beginning. Stopped him from thinking that the shit that came out of his mouth is okay. I fucked my son up, Sunshine. This one’s totally on me.” Bobby rifled through the keys on his ring, shaking his head. “God, I hate it when Cole’s right. Fucker.”

“God, your landlord’s going to be pissed off.”

“Yeah, I
am
the landlord.”

“Oh.” Ichiro blinked, an owlishly confused look on his face. “Huh. Um. Well, at least you won’t get into trouble about the glass.”

“Pretty sure either Jamie’s going to kill me, or I’m going to die of a heart attack looking for this fucking thing.”

“He’s probably not going to be happy when he gets out of there.”

“Yeah, I know that too. Why do they make these keys so fricking small? I can’t find it.” He finally found the tiny silver fob he was looking for. “There we go.”

“How are you going to get it going again?” Stepping onto the runner in front of Bobby’s door, Ichiro scratched at his bare chest, rippling the splashes of ink on his pale skin.

“I’m not. You are.” Bobby fit a slender silver key into the locking mechanism under the button. Switching the lock over to Off, he shut off the alarm and then nodded toward the front door. “You go get some shoes on. I’m going to head Jamie off in the garage. Wait thirty seconds so I can get down the stairs and then turn this to the On position. The elevator’s got to go down to the garage to reset. I’ll catch him there—and well, that’s probably where his car is.”

“How’d you know he was going to take the lift?” Ichi muttered as he grabbed at Bobby’s elbow. “And you’re bleeding.”

“He just got knee surgery. Can’t do the stairs.” He took another look at his arm. “Shit, your brother’s done worse to my face. Thirty seconds, babe. Then switch it on, okay?”

“Okay.” Ichi hugged himself, goose bumps crackling over his chest. “Okay now, shoes and shirt. It’s fucking cold.”

“Yeah,” Bobby grunted, stealing a quick kiss. Running barefooted down the hall, he caught the edge of a welcome mat with his toe and almost tumbled. Catching himself on the stairwell doorframe, he stopped long enough to give Ichi a wink and tossed back, “Oh, and yeah, I love you too.”

He took the stairs at a full run, catching at the railings to propel him around the well. His ass hurt, reminding him of what he’d just been doing, and his left foot throbbed at the spot he’d slammed it against the hallway wall. Three full flights down and the sounds of the elevator starting up rumbled through the stairwell. The garage door stuck a bit when he pressed down on its release bar, but a quick shove pushed it out, and Bobby was standing in the building’s dim, murky garage.

“Got to get someone to add more lights down here.” He looked around, catching his breath. “And fuck, I’ve got to do more cardio. Should have kept that damned StairMaster.”

Bent over, he nearly missed Jamie emerging from the elevator. Shaken and pale, Jamie stumbled out, gasping slightly when Bobby grabbed at him.

“Hey, I got you. You okay?” Bobby hugged his son tightly. The thin sheen of sweat on Jamie’s cheeks and forehead worried him. “Catch your breath, kid.”

“Figures.
You
.” Jamie shook him off, pulling away from his father with a jerk. “Get your goddamned hands off of me.”

They were too much alike in all the bad ways. Staring at his son—nearly eye to eye—Bobby wondered where his little boy had gone. Swallowed up by the broad-shouldered man angrily glaring at him, he took a step back, giving Jamie some room to breathe.

The mop top of curls he’d had as a toddler were now ruthlessly cropped short to his skull, but his tawny eyes and milk-tea skin were reminders of the young boy who’d beg Bobby for his police cap. Feet once small enough to fit into Bobby’s hands grew, first large enough to be shuffled across the floor in Bobby’s work boots, then sprouting out so far Bobby debated just buying Jamie shoeboxes to wear until he stopped growing.

He’d stopped, now taller and as broad as his father but sadly as closed-minded as the old man he’d been named for.

“I needed to talk to you about… what you walked in on upstairs.” Bobby wanted to start off simple, easing his way into the mess he’d made. “There’s things… shit, come upstairs. We can talk about this.”

“
This
?” Jamie wasn’t having any of it. He took a deep breath, leaned into Bobby’s space, and took his shot. “
This
is why you dumped Mom, isn’t it? Because you were fucking guys. She should be damned lucky she didn’t catch anything from your sick ass.”

“Over the line, boy,” Bobby warned him.

“Boy? I am not your fucking
boy
. Is that some kind of crack because of Mom? To show how hip you are? Taking back the word because you’re all down with whoever is around?” he snarled. “Mom wasn’t exotic enough for you? That why you went gay?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he growled back.

“I saw the kid you’ve got up there. You’ve got a thing for variety, then? Maybe Mom’s too mixed for you, so you pared it down a little bit? That kid’s—what—what is he? Shit, who’s that gay friend of yours? Cole? Did he hook you up with—Hell, you’re fucking that guy up there because you can’t have Cole, is that it?”

“Jesus. You’re like a fucking squirrel on a xylophone. Your mom—hell, this has
nothing
to do with your mom. And that kid’s—Ichi’s your age.” Bobby kneaded the air with his hands, and Jamie caught the motion, cocking his head as he nodded down to his father’s fists. “Will you shut the hell up and listen to me?”

“You going to hit me?” His chin jutted out. “That’s what you’re finally going to do?”

“That’s what you’re waiting for? You’re pissed off because I didn’t beat the shit out of you like your friends’ dads did? What the hell is going through your head?” Bobby gave up his calm, throwing it aside to wrap his fingers into Jamie’s shirt. “I have never in my life laid a hand on you. I worked my ass off to make sure you and your mom were okay and our marriage—and how I fucked up your mom’s life—that’s on me, but it’s also none of your goddamn business. And trust me when I tell you, I’m as sick of saying that as much as I’m sick to death of having people decide what I should or shouldn’t do.”

Jamie fought him, but Bobby had too good of a grip on him. He pushed Jamie back until his son was up against the garage wall, and his shoulders strained to hold him there, letting Jamie fight it out until he grew tired.

There was a skill to holding back a fighter with blood in their eye, and Bobby’d learned it well. He’d handled riots and angry, enraged men wanting to hurt the world as much as they’d been hurt, but nothing wounded him more than his son’s spitting fury and weakening attempts to break free of Bobby’s hold.

It’d been too long since he’d held his son close.

And holding him still so Jamie would just… listen… hurt more than any injury or gunshot he’d ever gotten.

“Stop.” He shook Jamie lightly. “Just… listen to me.”

“Give me one good damned reason I should.” Jamie spat as he spoke, peppering Bobby with wet disgust. “Give me one reason—”

“Because I love you,” he said softly. “And yeah, I should have told you this before. I should have, but this… how you’re acting… this is on me too. This isn’t how I raised you—”

“You
didn’t
raise me.” Jamie pulled free as Bobby uncurled his fingers, releasing his shirt. “How damned often did I see you as a kid? And then after… you and Mom divorced, it was even less. What part of me do you think you raised?”

“Every damned part of you.” He stepped back to study his son, frowning when Jamie shook himself loose. “I rode your ass as much as I could—”

“Yeah, bad choice of words there, Dad. Although knowing what I do now, maybe I was just lucky you were too damned tired when you came home from work. Or do you expect me to thank you for not—”

“Swear to God, if you finish what you’re going to say there, that whole never hitting you is coming to an end ’cause I’m going to break those teeth I spent so much damned fucking money straightening.” Bobby had to take another step away, distancing himself from Jamie and his own anger. “I can’t even believe that was about to come out of your damned mouth. Really, Jamie? Fucking really?
That’s
what you believe? And you’d think
I’d
do—”

Jamie’s words were like a punch through his chest. Bobby’d expected things—rank things—to be tossed at him in anger. Expected yes, but to have his son’s thoughts stray to…
that
… made him sick to his stomach. If he hadn’t already been shaking with adrenaline, Bobby was sure he’d be puking his guts out at Jamie’s insinuations.

Bobby held his breath, then sighed. “You are
not
the man I wanted you to be. You’re supposed to be better than
that
. Better than my dad. Better than your Uncle James. Shit, better than
me
.”

Something deep in Jamie cracked. Bobby could see it on his face. Jamie’s rage burbled and seeped out through small things; the shifting of his weight on his feet and the flicking of his gaze across Bobby’s face as if he was thinking about the best place to punch his old man. There was more than a little resentment in Jamie’s face, and it hurt Bobby’s heart to see it there.

Maybe
, a small voice whispered in the back of Bobby’s breaking heart,
your love just isn’t enough for him. Maybe, he just doesn’t love you like you love him.

“I’m sorry.” Jamie’s voice broke, crumbling down to a teary whisper. He could nearly taste the shock rolling off Jamie’s body, and his son caught his breath, finally comprehending what his rage drove him to say. “Shit, Dad. I’m—God, I don’t know where the hell that came from. Shit, I’m—”

“There’s a lot of things I’ve done in my life. Things I’m not proud of, but I’ve always been… you’ve been one of the very few things in life I can look at and say, shit, I’m proud of that kid. He turned out to be a good man.” The tears in Bobby’s eyes burned, but he refused to let the fire spread. If that hurt took hold of him, it would sear away his soul, and he fought it back, swallowing his rage. “I am so damned
not
proud of you right now.”

“I shouldn’t have…. God, I
don’t
think like that. I know better than that—”

“I am so pissed off at you, I can’t even think. I have never,
ever
raised you to believe that about any gay guy. Ever. Even before… this. You can be disappointed in me for all sorts of things, but I’ll be damned if my kid’s going to—”

“Dad, I am
sorry
.” Jamie swallowed hard. He rubbed his face, then scraped his hands over his head. The anger was gone from his face, replaced with a contrition thick enough to fill his eyes with shame. “God, I was just… so damned pissed off at you. I wasn’t… shit, I wasn’t even thinking.”

“When you’re angry is when you
should
be thinking the most. Didn’t I teach you that?”

“Yeah,” his son sighed. “You did.”

“If you need some time, I can give you that.” Bobby growled at his son. The little boy who stole a cookie or two was tucked somewhere inside of the man standing in front of him. “You and I, we talk things out as much as we can. It’s never been easy, you and me. But that’s on me. I get that. I’ve kept shit from you that you should have known about. This… me… gay. I’m not blameless. It just seemed easier and hell, the truth wiggles out from whatever wall goes up in front of it.”

“You should have told me. It’s… I don’t think I’m ever going to forget what I saw upstairs. Worse than finding out Santa wasn’t real.” Jamie nodded, shuffling his feet back and rolling his shoulders. “Why the hell wouldn’t you tell me about… all of this? Hell, until Mom married Uncle Barry, I figured you and her would… you know, get back together.”

“Oh, that’s
so
not going to happen.” Bobby shook his head.

“Well, yeah, I know that
now
. It was just… something a kid thinks about. You know?”

“Your mom… I’m not saying I didn’t hurt her, only that I’d never meant too. Hell, I hurt her deep—and you too. I know that, and I don’t know what I was thinking back then. Maybe I thought I could deal with it. I hid it. From her. From you. Shit, from myself for a long time too. I
was
going to tell you, Jamie. I guess the universe not only hates lies, but it’s pretty damned impatient too.”

“Have you… shit. I can’t deal with this right now. I just—” Jamie sighed. “I need some time. To work through this crap in my head. I don’t know… this changes
everything
, Dad.”