Play It Again, Charlie (14 page)

“Sunlight just
fills
Grayson's apartment, and that exhibitionist ho-bag doesn't seem to believe in curtains, something about
views
. Photographers. Like there's anything to see out his windows but the street, and of course, across the courtyard. Although there are some great views there, I noticed that my first day here.” Will paused and then conspicuously sniffed the air. He used one hand to roll up his other sleeve without taking his eyes off Charlie. “I saw that you were up. I mean, I noticed that you were up. Outside, I mean.” He coughed, then licked his lips. “Is that coffee?”

The blatant hinting let Charlie move at least. He narrowed his eyes and took another sip of coffee once he realized his cup was still in one hand. Will watched that, and as though the last few days had never happened, affected a brief pout.

“Is this casual Charlie?” He waved at Charlie's plain blue cotton shirt, shrunken from the wash, and seemed to notice Charlie's jeans in one long moment that tricked Charlie into looking down too. “I like.”

Charlie snapped his head back up and gave up on pretending that his face wasn't warm.

“What, no movie greeting?” He took another sip of his coffee. Then another when one jolt of caffeine didn't seem like enough. His question took Will by surprise, judging by his quick blinking, until he pursed his lips and went for a German accent.

“
Allo, stranger
,” he offered, leering dramatically, and Charlie swallowed his coffee so abruptly it hurt.

“I would have thought you were more the type to go for Liza,” he remarked when he could, refusing to acknowledge Will's little “oh” of surprise that Charlie recognized the quote, not even to smirk. Will bounced back in seconds.

“Are you kidding? Joel Grey
steals
that movie. Though I
do
know all the words to ‘Mein Herr'.”

“That does not surprise me.”

Will put a hand to his chest, feigning shock, and Charlie took a drink to hide the way his lips quirked. Will really didn't have to convince him he could be charming. Charlie knew that as much he already knew that Will couldn't be the settle-down type without hearing about Sally Bowles. He half turned to set down his cup on the counter and turned back to realize that Will was still standing on his doorstep, evidently waiting for something. “Was there a problem? Hanging curtains in the apartments is outside my purview.”

“Problem?” Will must really depend on caffeine in the morning. He stopped to scratch at the faint stubble along his jaw. Charlie curled his fingers around the lingering warmth in his palm.

“Why are you here?”

Will's chin came up at the question before he shook his head. His hands came up, then fell back down. “I wanted to say good morning,” he finally answered, just as slowly as Charlie had. “You know? Good morning?”

It was as if Charlie enjoyed making a fool of himself. No wonder his attempts at dating ended in failure; he could barely manage a simple conversation.

Charlie took a step back. He didn't wave Will in, but Will took the gesture for what it was and came in anyway, slipping past the threshold and stopping once inside.

Will was rumpled and inviting in the sunlight, if unaware of how Charlie had imagined them together against the very counter he was leaning against. But Will put his hands on the counter's edge behind him and smiled as if he were. Charlie thought it wouldn't take much effort to pick Will up, push him onto that counter, and thrust against denim. Not even with a bad hip; not if Will helped.

“Did you want some coffee?” Charlie moved quickly, turning around to reach inside the other side of the cabinet for another cup, almost wincing when he saw it was the mug with the picture of him with Mark on it. It was chipped and too dusty to use, anyway. He reached further back and grabbed the sky-blue painted one Alicia had made for him, with the rainbow handle and the gummy patch where there had once been a sticker.

Will had made a strange noise at his offer, but his voice was smooth when he finally spoke.

“I would
love
some coffee, Charlie.” His smile had not gone away by the time Charlie turned back around, but he was sweeping his gaze around, at the dishes in the sink, the plate with toast left on it. He accepted his mug with both hands and blew on it without asking for any sugar or milk.

When he took a sip, he didn't say anything about how strong it was, either. Missy and Jeanine would have approved.

“So.” Charlie stepped carefully around Will to reach for his own mug, white with a large shield on one side, adding the last few drops from the pot to keep it hot before turning the coffeemaker off. Steam stung his cheeks as he held it close. “It's a nice morning.” He stood up, then leaned back at the flickering disbelief on Will's face at that conversational gambit. Charlie pushed on. “Do you work today?” Will certainly kept odd hours, and a list of possible nefarious items that he could be carrying around in that black plastic case formed in Charlie's mind. He told himself he had no proof at all that Will was up to anything he shouldn't be, other than, of course, his choice in friends.

“Nope.” Will took another drink of coffee and made a satisfied noise low in his throat. Charlie swallowed dryly, waved a hand to explain himself, and realized he was copying Will. He scowled and put his coffee down.

“I mean... on Saturdays.” He stayed on his side of the kitchen, eyed his last piece of toast, and felt more than saw Will's amusement. It would have been less obvious just to ask what Will did for a living.

“Hair.” Will peered around the floor, staring for a moment at Sam's bowl. “Good hair doesn't keep a schedule.”

“Hair?” Charlie blinked. “You're a hairstylist?” It wasn't that he doubted the statement; it certainly put Will's plethora of hairstyles into perspective. It was just that it didn't seem to be enough for someone like Will. Will took it that way, though; he could tell when Will frowned and then lifted both of his eyebrows.

“Licensed and everything, Officer, I swear.” He flapped a hand up in what was probably some sort of Scout hand gesture and licked the corner of his mouth. “My sister insisted.”

“Your sister?” Charlie tried to imagine Will in any kind of school and grabbed his coffee. He finished it in one stinging gulp, then shoved the mug away.

“I can cut, but I'm more of a colorist. A genius, really.” Will ran one hand through his honeyed streaks and seemed to notice the flat state of half of his hair. He moved his hand back and forth, somehow arranged something perfectly tousled without looking, then dropped his hand. His cheeks were pink. “Oops. Guess I rushed out.” He attempted to look serious but ended up looking smug. “I'm in demand.”

Charlie ignored the obvious bait. “You work at a salon?” That was normal. Which might have been why Will made a face.

“Private clients. Sometimes off the Internet.” Will stopped, and Charlie tried to smooth out his scowl at hearing that last part. He bit his tongue. Will stood up in a sudden motion and smiled lasciviously. “Want me to do you?”

“Working without records like that is dangerous.” The warning slipped out despite Charlie's efforts to stop it, irritation at himself hot under his skin. “Don't you watch the news?” He shook his head, but this time Will didn't seem irritated in return. What had changed from yesterday, Charlie had no idea.

Will licked at his mouth again before twisting to set down his mug. He crossed his arms just to uncross them and scratch at his stubble again. Charlie put his hands on the counter's edge.

“Is that for everyone?” Will asked softly, then angled his head when Charlie didn't hide his confusion. “All that lovely concern?” Charlie held still as Will's gaze swept over him. He had nothing to be embarrassed about, but when Will sighed and twisted back to get his cup, Charlie stepped further into the apartment and made a point of checking Sam's bowl for no reason other than he didn't want to look up as Will kept on talking. “It is, isn't it?” Will sighed again, and maybe Charlie was getting used to the sound, to Will, but he couldn't tell if it was genuine or not.

Will was examining his coffee cup. “You just like to get me excited.” He smiled, faintly, at the rainbow, and then poked at the sticky patch. “Stop being silly,” he whispered to the cup, breathless, then he set the mug down and raised his head at the same time. He glanced at the door, and Charlie swallowed. “I told you, I can take care of myself.”

It was probably true. Despite all his training, Charlie was the one backed up into his kitchen table again, when Will was just here for coffee. Of course, to most people, coffee never meant just coffee, but Will hadn't said anything. Clearly Charlie was the crazy one.

He lifted his chin for pride more than anything else.

“Yes, you're a hair-coloring genius who hangs out with people who do party drugs, but you can take care of yourself,” he scoffed, and Will's mouth opened. “Is it only hair products in that case?”

Will's expression immediately slid into an offended pout that sent Charlie's instincts into overdrive. It wasn't a look of innocence, at least, but then they both knew he wouldn't have believed that. What had Will said when Charlie had mentioned how dangerous partying like that could be? “Believe me, I know,” experience in his tone, and it was too easy to imagine what trouble someone like Will could get in.

Will abandoned the pout and met his gaze evenly.

“You're welcome to search me.” There was the Will from yesterday. “I mean, search the case,” Will added a moment later, his mouth turning up when Charlie felt his face get hot. His gaze fell to the jeans, the loose T-shirt, and he imagined his hands over both, under both, and how long it would take to wipe that smile off Will's face. He sucked in a breath.

He was too old to fall for distractions so obvious. He narrowed his eyes, and Will hopped forward, waving one hand to dismiss the tension he'd created.

“Hair color, whatever, it's all chemistry.” He directed a sideways look at Charlie at that “whatever,” and for some reason grinned at Charlie's unhappy stare. He admitted that cooking drugs was not out of the realm of possibility for him as though it was nothing, and he was
grinning
. But after that pause he shrugged and looked up through his eyelashes, though he didn't have to, not with the distance between them. “But I'm not in that business.” He paused again, peeking upward at Charlie's continued silence. “Anymore.”

Charlie's stomach was tight, too much coffee making him agitated. He didn't want to picture Will doing anything like that, not even in the past. If he really had, then it was a miracle he wasn't dead or a junkie. He blinked to see Will approaching him.

“It was only once or twice, and then my Boo found out and was
not
happy.” He nodded at his own story and stopped just in front of Charlie. “Anyway, I had other areas of interest, and it... got boring.”

That snapped Charlie's head up.

“Boring?” he demanded. Will didn't comment on that, only stayed in front of him, regarding Charlie with eyes that should have sparkled. The fact that they didn't only increased the acid churning in Charlie's stomach. He wasn't sure Will was telling the truth but knew Will had no reason to lie to him. He could have never confessed at all. Charlie was hardly in a position of authority here. His voice got rough just the same. “And hair isn't boring?”

“Charlie!” Will gasped. “Hair is
art
.”

“Boring,” Charlie said again, trying to think of anyone else in his experience who had ever remarked that users and the party lifestyle were
boring
. Will nodded seriously, flicking a look to Charlie's hair, as though he couldn't help himself, as though hair
was
that important.

“Okay,” Charlie grunted, then he nearly blushed again to hear himself. The words rolled off his tongue anyway, making Will's expression light up in a brilliant way. “Boring and
dangerous
,” he amended, driving home his point in case Will was considering a return to that profession. The twinkle in Will's eyes made his heart beat too fast.

“That time it was only for me, wasn't it?” Will whispered and didn't comment when Charlie frowned. His hands were up, but they didn't land on Charlie's chest, and the fact that Charlie had hoped they would was another sign of how much he needed to get out more. He slipped to the side and then stood awkwardly at the border of his living room. He got a glimpse of Sam sneaking behind the couch.

“You know, I've never had to work like this before, Charlie. Seriously.” Will followed him, but stopped at the edge of the wall. Charlie turned and saw Will looking down. He could have been glancing over his desk, but he didn't seem focused. “Seriously, it's... .” He flattened his mouth and didn't raise his head. “I don't even know why I'm here.”

“To say good morning,” Charlie told him with light sarcasm, and Will perked up. Charlie didn't ask. “You know.” He did give in to the need to run his hands through his hair, even if it meant looking like Will. The action drew Will's attention, and Charlie made a face to think of Will interested in his
hair
. “I only understand you half the time.”

“I know, right?” Will answered, deadpan, then he twirled his finger around by his temple in the elementary school gesture for
crazy
. “I figured that out yesterday. The thing is, well, forget the thing, it's not important.”

“Are you talking to
yourself
?” Charlie couldn't tell if he'd had too much coffee or not enough. Strangely, Will blinked and looked just as lost in the second before he rolled his eyes at the ceiling.

“Charlie.” He breathed and then wet his lips. “Charlie,” he tried again, and he moved away from the wall. He didn't get close this time, only straightening before he stopped. Whatever he said to himself this time was too quiet for Charlie to understand. “I'm normally not the one doing this, and trust me, I am totally confused, except that there's just something hot in how stern you get, and I've seen you so, so gentle, and sometimes you say the best things, but... .” Will cleared his throat, then took a deep breath. “What are you doing tonight? Well, this afternoon. Evening-ish, I guess. Today,” he added with one hand out, while Charlie was still processing the first part, which had to be a joke or a misunderstanding. His pulse was thundering either way, a chill in his chest despite all the hot coffee. “What are you doing
today
?”