Valor on the Move (14 page)

The Suburban pulled up, waiting. He couldn’t really see them through the tinted windows, but he wondered what Shane was thinking. He continued wondering as he drove to the theater.

Is he:

A) Furious

B) Embarrassed

C) Disgusted

D) All of the above

Rafa knew that if anyone found out he’d kissed Shane, it would be Shane that suffered. He’d probably lose his job, or end up on some terrible field duty in Podunk, USA. It had been unbearably selfish. It really had. Shane had been so nice to him, and this was how Rafa thanked him. The urge to apologize and clear the air burned in his empty stomach.

At the AMC parking lot, he waited to get out of his car until Shane and Alan approached, just like he was supposed to. Alan walked ahead to the theater, scanning and talking into his wrist, and Shane’s presence behind Rafa felt like…he didn’t know what. It was somehow awkward and electric at the same time.

After getting the nod from Alan, Rafa went inside. In the quiet lobby, he bought his ticket at a machine while Alan bought theirs. Rafa would have just picked them all up, but his agents had always insisted on protocol. Alan would expense the tickets and get his money back eventually. Still wearing his cap, Rafa approached the ticket taker, bypassing the snack bar, because vomiting popcorn and M&Ms wouldn’t help his case.

A kid who looked about fifteen took his ticket. “Enjoy the show.” Then he did a double take, and stared with wide eyes at Alan and Shane, who handed him their tickets. “Uh…enjoy the show too,” the kid sputtered.

As they walked to the theater, a young woman in business casual clothing approached, smiling widely. Shane stepped toward her so she didn’t get too close. Rafa smiled at her. “Hi.”

“Hello! Welcome to AMC. How wonderful to have you. If there’s anything I can do to make your visit better, please let me know.”

Alan spoke up. “If you could keep any looky-loos out of the theater, that would be very helpful. And ensure that your staff don’t start tweeting that the president’s son is here.”

“Absolutely. Consider it done.” She smiled at Rafa again. “Did you want any snacks? On the house, of course.”

“Thank you so much, but I had a big breakfast.”

Outside theater thirteen, which Rafa hoped wasn’t a bad omen, he waited with Shane while Alan did a sweep. The previews were already playing from the sounds of it, but Rafa didn’t mind missing them this time. All he could think about was Shane. He could have reached out and touched him, but instead kept his hands shoved in his chino pockets. Shane surveyed the lobby silently.

Alan appeared. “All clear.”

They walked inside up the slanted dark hallway to the stadium-style theater. As Rafa had guessed, there was hardly anyone at this morning weekday screening of the latest Superman movie that had come out more than a month ago. He and Ash had seen it in Charlottesville before she left for Paris. It had kind of sucked, but it didn’t matter.

An older man sat near the front, and a younger couple were huddled in the middle, giggling and kissing. They didn’t even glance up. Rafa went all the way to the top, and Alan murmured to Shane.

“I’ll take the front.” He went back down, taking a seat a few rows up from the entrance.

At the very back row, Rafa started toward the middle, stopping when Shane didn’t follow. He felt like he’d swallowed glass. “Are you coming?”

“I’ll stay on the aisle.”

Rafa stood there until Shane finally met his gaze. “Please? I really want to talk to you. And it’s not as if I can text you like a normal person.”

After a heartbeat that felt like an eternity, Shane nodded. He still left one seat between them as they sat. With the wall behind them, at least Rafa knew no one could eavesdrop. Shane murmured into his wrist, and then pressed against it. Turning off the mic, Rafa realized. He eyed the coiled clear plastic disappearing from Shane’s earpiece beneath his collar.

He decided to start with some small talk. “Why don’t you use wireless? I’ve always wondered.”

Shane kept his gaze forward. “Not reliable enough. Too much could go wrong. If my earpiece falls out, it’ll dangle and I won’t lose it. A bluetooth could be gone in an instant in a crowd. They’ve tested it all. The old radios are still the best. We can turn the mics off and on now. That helps cut down on chatter over the wire.”

The glass in Rafa’s throat was accompanied by gritty sand. Maybe he should have gotten a gallon-sized soda after all. “Oh. Cool. I’ve never thought about it. I don’t know why, since I’m surrounded by Secret Service agents.” He laughed weakly. A preview for the next
Wonder Woman
movie played, and he gathered his courage. “Um. I just wanted to… I’m so sorry for what I did. For kissing you.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. There’s really no need to discuss this. But…I’m sorry too.”

Does that mean he
did
want to kiss me back?
“Okay. You didn’t tell anyone, right? I mean, I’m sure you didn’t. I just want to double check.”

Shane kept his gaze forward, looking left and right every so often. “Of course not. Besides, there was nothing to tell. It’s already forgotten.”

It shouldn’t have hurt, but damn it, it did. Rafa’s eyes burned.
Do not even think about crying right now.
Before he could stop himself, he blurted, “I can’t forget my first kiss.”
Oh yes, this is helping. Way to go, genius.
“I mean…not that it was a
real
kiss. I know you didn’t want it to happen, and I basically jumped you, which was really not cool. It was so wrong.” The movie was starting, and after the blare of the previews, it was suddenly very quiet. Even though there was no one in earshot, he whispered, “I just wanted…it’s hard. When Ashleigh’s not around, there’s no one I can talk to. Which is so not your problem. Anyway, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. Any of it.”

Shane was silent as Superman hung around the Fortress of Solitude and looked mopey. “I know you must be lonely. Confused. It’s okay. You’ll be okay.”

“It’s not even that I’m confused. Just…so fucking sick of the closet. And…I like you. I’ve never felt like this about anyone. But that’s no excuse.”

Shane’s nostrils flared. “I…” His gaze darted around the theater. “You know this is not a thing that can ever happen.”

Rafa’s pulse fluttered. Did that mean that if things were different, Shane would actually
want
something to happen? Before he could summon the courage to ask, Shane went on.

“Stop beating yourself up,” he murmured in his low growl. “We’re good. Okay? I let the situation get out of hand. It won’t happen again, and I’m not upset.”

“You’re not?” Rafa watched the side of Shane’s face, light from the movie flickering over his skin. “Thanks. I really like talking to you. You’re cool.” He winced internally. He sounded like a dumb kid. But it seemed like Shane definitely
had
kissed him back, and not just out of instinct.

Not that it matters, because it’s never going to happen again.
“I’m sorry I put you in that position. But…to be honest, I’m not sorry it happened. Because I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have my first kiss with.”

Shane looked at him then, his stoic expression unreadable. Was he mad? Touched? Ambivalent?

Rafa rambled on. “Um, I just want you to know that I wouldn’t do anything to get you in trouble. Well, I told Ash, but it’s all in code. And she would never talk.”

Shane nodded, and they both turned to the screen. Rafa took off the hat and ran his hand over his stupid hair, hoping it wasn’t sticking up now. Maybe he should put it back on. Maybe—

“She knows the real you?”

As Superman flew off to battle the latest version of Lex Luthor, Rafa nodded. He glanced at Shane, who didn’t look at him. “We’ve never been a real couple. Just best friends. Neither of us could come out.” Oh shit, he wasn’t supposed to be outing Ash. “Shit, you can’t tell anyone that,” he quickly added. “Not that you would, but…”

Their eyes met in the darkness. “I wouldn’t.”

There was something about Shane’s steady gaze and voice that just made Rafa feel so safe. He nodded. “I know.”

“I know it must be hard. Hiding who you are.”

“You never had to? From your parents?”

Something—perhaps affection and a stab of pain—flickered over Shane’s face, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and looked away. “They were very accepting. It was never an issue.”

“That’s good.” Rafa wanted to ask a million more questions about them, but it wasn’t his place. “So, we have a plan. Me and Ash. It’s all worked out, how we’re going to break up, and finally come out to our folks. We’ve only got one semester left, and my dad will be out of office in January, and then…”

Shane glanced over and waited.

“And then anything, I guess. Everything.” The thrill of anticipation put a smile on his face. “My life will finally begin. In Australia I can surf and cook. It’s going to be perfect.”

Shane smiled at him, and Rafa’s stomach swooped like he was on a rollercoaster. “Sounds like a good plan, Rafa.” Shane turned his head back to the movie, although Rafa knew he wasn’t paying attention to it. His eyes darted around, always watching; protecting Rafa from any possible threat. Rafa wondered what he was like off duty, totally relaxed and himself. No suit, or ear piece, or eagle eye. Just Shane.

Of course thoughts of no suit immediately morphed into thoughts of Shane naked, and that was
not
a good mental path to travel unless Rafa was alone in his bedroom with his hand down his shorts. He forced himself to focus on the movie and the lackluster action scene involving a monorail and screaming passengers heading to certain doom. Naturally, Superman saved the day.

The man in front got up and left the theater. He came back in a few minutes, and Shane lifted his wrist to say something to Alan that Rafa missed in an explosion of glass onscreen. Shane glanced over and gave him a reassuring smile—a quick tug of his lips.

Rafa put his feet up and finally breathed deeply for the first time in days.

Although the White House was generally always bustling with people and activity during the day, when the president returned, it went into high gear. Shane stood on the South Lawn with Alan and other agents as Marine One and its two flanking escorts approached, the rotors of the helicopters thrumming. The countersnipers in strategic positions on the roof reported in, and Shane pressed against his ear piece to better hear the command center’s response as the noise from the choppers grew.

Rafa, his mother, sister, brother, and a few aunts and uncles waited on the lawn with wide smiles and neatly pressed clothing. The eldest brother, codename Vacation, was enroute with his wife from New York City. The last report was that they’d be wheels down in thirty after a canceled flight the night before thanks to torrential rain on the eastern seaboard. There had been some concern that the president himself might not make it back from Europe in time for his own birthday party that night, but here he was. Would probably be jetlagged as all hell, Shane mused.

As the summer wore on, the heat had settled into DC, and sweat prickled the back of Shane’s neck. The sun was bright overhead, and even with his polarized sunglasses, he had to squint as he peered around the grounds. Sometimes people asked about Secret Service agents and if there was some covert reason they wore sunglasses, but the truth was they were to block the goddamn sun.

Press Corps photographers were huddled on the lawn with zoom lenses at the ready, and the armed emergency response team was concealed in the bushes around the perimeter. Beyond the fountain was the fence and the street, and in the distance across a long stretch of grass looking toward the Washington Monument, Shane could see tourists gathered, undoubtedly with iPhones at the ready as the helicopters passed them overhead.

When he’d finished a visual sweep, Shane brought his attention back to Rafa. It looked as if he’d gotten a haircut, although it was hard to tell for sure with it slicked down. In his usual preppy uniform, Rafa laughed at something his sister said to him. Shane was glad to see him smiling, even if he knew he shouldn’t give a damn one way or the other. Even if he knew Rafa probably wasn’t truly happy, and wouldn’t be until he could come out.

In the past two weeks, things had mostly gone back to normal. Mostly. It had all been very polite and proper. He and Alan trailed Rafa to foundation meetings, and otherwise Rafa had stayed upstairs in the residence. Shane filed his reports and checked in with Harris and Nguyen, and the brass at HQ. It was all by the book. No more going upstairs to sample Rafa’s latest creations. No more bowling matches. Everything was the way it was supposed to be.

So why was he so goddamned miserable?

Marine One hovered over the South Lawn, the wind kicking up and blowing skirts and hair. The noise was deafening. The other two helicopters circled the area, and the snipers reported in ready as Marine One landed safely. The rotors slowed as the stairs were lowered and President Castillo appeared, smiling and waving as the photographers leaped into action.

Ramon Castillo—codename Vagabond—greeted his family with kisses and hugs, and as he embraced Rafa, Shane found himself wondering what the man would say when he found out his son was gay. He’d supported that bullshit anti-gay bill dressed up as a marriage issue, and had always been conservative even for a Republican. As an agent, Shane tried not to think too much about it. His job was to protect, no matter who it was and what they stood for. The Secret Service didn’t play political favorites, probably making it the only agency in DC that didn’t.

As the first family reentered the White House, Shane, Alan, and the other agents followed, now joined by part of Vagabond’s detail. The family had brunch waiting for them in the dining room, and Shane and the others stopped in the corridor, taking up their positions. It wasn’t effective to clump together, so they spread out, trying to blend into the background unobtrusively. Alan nodded to Shane from across the wide hallway.

Chang, one of the guys on PPD, told Shane about the trip back from Europe, which had been delayed by the eastern storm. “I haven’t slept in forty-eight hours. So ready for my bed.”