Advent Calendar Day 12

Another print book giveaway to go with Johanna Ollila's poignant and lovely coloring book page inspired by the 1940s story Snowball in Hell.


I'm giving away four signed copies of What's Left of Kisses, a collection of historical novellas to four randomly selected commenters. It's going to be tricky to get these to anybody (even in the States) before Christmas, so don't count on that!


To be eligible for this drawing, share a memory of your grandparents (or a great-aunt or a great-uncle) -- and if it's a holiday memory, so much the better!

Advent Calendar Day 11

I am LOVING these wonderful calendar contributions from so many generous souls this year.


Today we have more fiction -- an Adrien English coda from my dear longtime pal  Steve Leonard!

Broken Hallelujah

A Jake Riordan and Adrien English Christmas Coda

By Steve Leonard

It was later than I expected when I finally turned onto our street. The Christmas lights we’d strung up a few weeks earlier blinked and twinkled, illuminating our house like a runway. I pulled into the driveway alongside Adrien’s Subaru Forester, and as I got out of my car the smell of a wood-burning fire was heavy in the crisp evening air. It smelled like Christmas.

The street in front of our house was lined with familiar cars. It looked like everybody was here for our Christmas Eve Party. Our first of what we hoped would become a new tradition.

I chuckled when I thought back to the night I suggested the party. We’ve been together for a little over two years now, and it was our second Christmas. Adrien is always so amazed at how I had, in his words, ‘taken so well to domestic life.’ He tends to forget that even before we were a couple I always wanted home and hearth and the happily ever after. Of course, when I was younger I had assumed it would be with a wife, but life had something else in store for me. I have no complaints.

I walked in the front door, trying to be quiet and unobtrusive, but he saw me from across the room and started over.

“Five minutes,” I mouthed, holding up my fingers as I bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

I stripped out of my street clothes in the walk-in closet and reached for the new slacks I’d bought for tonight. Adrien would probably call them fawn or camel or something equally ridiculous, and I would humor him. They fit well in all the places I knew he’d appreciate. I put on a clean t-shirt and the fitted black cashmere sweater I knew he liked.

I scrutinized myself in the bathroom mirror as I dabbed on a bit of cologne. Today had been a very long day and a quick pass with the electric razor probably wouldn’t hurt, but I was already late so my five o’clock shadow would have to do.

I checked my phone again – probably for the hundredth time today – and still nothing. Why did I even bother? My Mom kept telling me to give him time, but my hopes dimmed a bit with every week that passed. I thought maybe because it was Christmas and that it had been more than two years. But no.

Festive noises drifted upstairs, pushing my thoughts away. I slid my phone back into my pocket and went down to join the party.

I spied Adrien near the tree. We’d gone all out this year with a nine-foot Douglas Fir decorated to the hilt. He was talking with Natalie and Angus, and as I made my way over, Angus spied me and stiffened slightly, which made me smile.

I still found Angus weird, but I’d gotten used to him and tolerated his quirks. Plus, he and Natalie ran the bookstore like a well-oiled machine, which gave Adrien the freedom he wanted so he could focus on other things, and I was grateful for that.

“There you are,” Adrien smiled, handing me a drink. “I figured you could use one.”

“You figured right,” I said, as I took a swallow and leaned in for a kiss.

“Get a room,” Natalie chuckled as our kiss lingered, and we all laughed. Even Angus.

It’s hard to imagine there’d been a time when I was hesitant with public displays of affection toward Adrien. That hadn’t been a problem for a long time now.

“I better make the rounds,” I said after a while, giving his arm a squeeze. I headed over to where Bill and Lisa were chatting with Paul Chan, but was intercepted by Emma.

“Merry Christmas, Jake,” she greeted me with a cheery smile, taking my arm in hers.

“Hey, Merry Christmas to you, too,” I replied. Reminding myself she was no long a kid, I resisted the impulse to ruffle her hair and settled for a hug instead.

We stopped at the bar so I could fix fresh drinks for Bill, Lisa and Paul. “So how’s life with Mummy Dearest these days?”

“She’s not that bad,” she said, stifling a laugh behind her hand as she put the drinks, along with cocktail napkins, onto a tray.

“Yeah, I know. She’s actually starting to grow on me,” I confessed, speaking low with my head bowed so only she could hear. “But you breathe one word of that to her and I’ll have to kill you.”

“Back at ya, Riordan,” she quipped without missing a beat.

We fist bumped and then she was off, cell phone in hand, doing God knows what teen-aged girls do these days.

~~~

Two hours later the party was winding down and our guests were getting ready to leave,

I took a tray of empty glasses to the kitchen, balancing it on one hand while I checked my phone with the other. There were texts and notifications from friends and former co-workers, but nothing from my Dad.

My shoulders slumped as I slid the phone back into my pocket. I downed the rest of my drink and set my glass along with the others next to the sink and went out to the foyer where Adrien was saying good bye to everybody.

They were all lined up next to the front door and it reminded me of a scene from ‘The Sound of Music’ which he and Emma had made me watch a couple of weeks earlier.

I dutifully hugged and kissed the family as they filed out, while ‘So long, Farewell, Auf Wiedersehen, Good Night’ bounced around my head. I was going to need another drink.

“Dinner is at 2:00 tomorrow,” Lisa reminded me as she returned my kiss and drew me in for a hug.

“We’ll be there,” I replied.

When the last of the Von Trapps … er … Dautens finally bid adieu, we quickly cleaned up the remnants of the party and then did the dishes. We have a long-agreed upon division of labor: I dry and put them away while Adrien washes.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a short time.

I looked up. “For what?”

He nodded at the phone in my hand. “Your Dad.”

“Oh, yeah,” I sighed, putting it back into my pocket. I’d been checking it almost non-stop since the party ended.

We didn’t talk about my Dad much, not that it was a sore subject or off-limits or anything. But it was what it was and neither of us could change it.

“I just keep thinking he’s going to come around, you know?” I said, leaning against the door frame. “I mean, everybody else has. Even Danny.” Danny, my youngest brother, had taken the news of my coming out pretty hard and had avoided me for months. But one day last January he showed up out of the blue at my office. The memory made me laugh out loud.

“What?” Adrien asked. He let the water drain as he wiped down the countertops.

“I was thinking about that day Danny first came by,” I said with a grin.

“Yeah, that was a good day,” he agreed, giving the sink a final rinse.

“It was.” We’d had a good long talk and then I took him down and introduced him to Adrien. Since then, we’ve gotten together on a number of occasions. In fact, all my brothers had stopped by over the course of the party tonight. It was nice. I didn’t expect my Mom to make an appearance, but we’d be seeing her sometime in the next couple of days.

“I’m gonna lock up,” I said as I put the last plate away and set the towel on the rack to dry.

~~~

I finished my rounds of the downstairs windows and doors when I saw Adrien with the dog at the front door. He was slipping into his coat.

“Just going to take Scout for a quick walk,” he said.

“Give me a second and I’ll come with,” I offered.

He shook his head as he fastened the leash. “No, that’s okay. You look beat. Go on up and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Okay. I am pretty beat.” And I was. Business had been very good for quite a while now, and I’d been out chasing down leads for the better part of the last three days on a new case. The last few days before Christmas is always a busy time at ‘Cloak and Dagger Books,’ and it seemed like Adrien and I hadn’t seen each other in nearly a week.

As if reading my mind, he said, “I’m looking forward to spending a long winter’s night with you.” And then he walked over to me, pointing to something over my head. I looked up to see a sprig of Mistletoe.

I took his face in my hands and kissed him deeply. As long as I lived, I would never get tired of kissing Adrien.

He finally pulled away and started pulling on his gloves. “Hold that thought,” he called over his shoulder as he stepped out the door.

I watched out the window for a few seconds as he walked Scout down the front sidewalk to the curb, and then I headed upstairs, stripped off my sweater and t-shirt, and went to wash up.

I set my phone next to the sink and gazed into the mirror. I started to think about the past couple of years.

I wanted to kick myself whenever I thought about those two years Adrien and I could’ve been together. Where would we be now if I’d had the courage to come out back then? Where would I be if I hadn’t? 

But I told myself what I always did whenever I let my mind wander into such maudlin territory: no regrets. What was the use? I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t change anything I did. The past was the past. And honestly, from the day Adrien had shown up at my house in Glendale – after I’d given up on any chance of being with him – I only ever wanted to look ahead. To keep moving forward, day by day, with our new life.

I don’t know how long I stood there, lost in my thoughts, when I felt a cool finger trace up the length of my spine. I shivered and caught Adrien’s eyes in the mirror. Still the most beautiful guy I’ve ever seen.

“You look a million miles away,” he said quietly. “What are you thinking about?”

I smiled tightly. “It’s a wonderful life.”

He returned the smile and handed me a tumbler of Bourbon.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

His lips twitched and his eyes twinkled as he raised his own glass of his homemade Eggnog. He glanced at my phone on the counter. “Anything?”

“No.” I tossed the phone through the open door and onto the bed in the other room. I took a long drink. His smile had turned mischievous and I noticed he had one hand behind his back.

“Just how much Christmas Cheer have you had tonight?” I asked, leaning in and giving his glass a sniff.

He pulled it away and giggled. “Not much.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted, finishing the last of his drink and setting the empty glass down.

I opened the taps and started to wash my face. A moment later I felt his hand smoothing up and down my back. It was comforting and felt natural and I wondered again how I had denied this for so long.

I turned off the faucet and was reaching for a hand towel when I felt him pull at the waistband of my underwear, snapping it against my skin.

I narrowed my eyes as I looked at him in the mirror. “Easy now,” I said.

“Mhhmm?” he murmured innocently. He bit his lower lip and gave the elastic another playful snap.

“Somebody’s going to get a spanking,” I warned, my voice low.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he retorted as he pulled the band back again. We stared each other down, eyes riveted to one another in the mirror. He let the elastic go with a crack and jumped back when I spun around. He thrust out the hand he’d been hiding behind his back. He was holding a long, thin rectangular box, wrapped in metallic red paper with a bright green and gold bow.

I eyed it suspiciously. “What’s this?”

“What does it look like?” he asked, looking at me with his mouth agape. “It’s a Christmas present. Go ahead and open it.”

I eased the ribbon and bow off the box and tore the paper open. I slid the top off to reveal two silk scarves and an ostrich feather.

I leaned against the vanity and lifted out the familiar objects, appraising them with an arched brow. “Kinky.”

“Mmmm… but they’re not for me,” he said coyly, looking up at me with wide eyes.

My jaw dropped and my mind flashed back to earlier this year when Adrien had ‘Scarf & Feathered’ me. It was my birthday and he’d surprised me with a weekend trip to Pine Shadow Ranch, which had been spruced up and was being used as a vacation rental. After a home-cooked dinner and some eighteen-year old Laphroaig (probably a little more than I should’ve had), he convinced me to do something I’d never done before.

He was tentative at first, but with some encouragement on my part and an assist from the Laphroaig, his devious side came out, and after a long and at times intense session of teasing, edging, and denial, I’d ended up begging – for the second time in my life.

He took me to places I’ve never been and exposed me to sensations I’ve never experienced. And then, when he finally filled me and began to move inside me… well … it was one of the most amazing things I’ve ever felt.

“Oh baby,” I rumbled. The thought of a repeat performance made me tingle with anticipation and I charged him, dipping down and scooping him up over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

“Jake!” he gasped as I gave his backside a firm smack with my open palm, grabbed the scarves and feather, and marched into the bedroom.

I flopped him gently down onto the bed and straddled him. His hand worked furiously at my belt and then fumbled with the button and zipper on my pants.

“Down boy,” I chuckled at his frantic efforts to get my pants down with me still atop him. “How about letting me get my shoes off first?” I moved off him to the edge of the mattress and bent down to untie my shoes.

I was pulling my socks off when I felt him grabbing the waistband of my briefs again. This time, though, he gave the elastic a tug upwards. The hell?!

I jumped to my feet. “Did you just try to give me a wedgie?!”

He feigned innocence which turned into righteous indignation as I continued to glare, and then he burst into a fit of giggles. I couldn’t help laughing as I pounced on him.

“Oh, you’re in for it now,” I growled, pinning both his hands over his head as I ravished his mouth with kisses. Once he was distracted, I secured his right wrist to the bedpost with one of the scarves.

“What are you--” He broke off in a gasp as my hand slid down the front of his pants and into his underwear. “Jake!”

“What do we have here?” I asked as I delved deeper, my hand clasping hot, firm flesh.

“I… I have a permit for that, Detective,” he purred as he began to thrust slowly into my hand.

“Oh, I bet you do, Mr. English.”

I squeezed a little harder and then stopped. I pulled my hand back and sat up.

“Don’t quit now,” he panted, arching his back.

I swallowed hard and opened my mouth to say something but nothing came out.

Adrien looked up at me. “Jake?”

I worked my jaw and he reached to untie his wrist. He scooted out from under me and got to his knees. “What’s wrong?”

I blinked and then looked him directly in the eyes and shook my head. “Nothing,” I said, my voice gentle. “Nothing’s wrong. But I don’t think I want tonight to be about kink, Adrien.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “Sure.”

I put my hand to his face and stroked his cheek softly. I swallowed again and continued. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately, and these… these past couple of years with you have been the best of my life. I never dreamed I could be this happy.”

My voice caught and I could’ve gone for one of his smart-aleck remarks, but he just stared at me, his blue eyes seeing right into me. Laying me bare. I blinked again and went on. “You’ve made me a better man, Adrien. I’m a better person today, because of you. I wanted you to know that.”

He didn’t say anything. He reached out and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. I let myself be drawn in. His warm breath on my neck felt like home.

“I feel the same way,” he whispered, kissing my shoulder and stroking my back.

I held him tight, my eyes squeezed shut. There was a prickle behind them and I felt the wetness on my lashes. “I love you, Adrien.”

“I love--” My phone, which I’d tossed onto the bed earlier, started to ring. We reached for it at the same time and I froze when I saw the number flashing on the screen. Adrien handed it to me.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” he said, moving to disentangle himself.

“No.” I pulled him back to me and hastily wiped my eyes. I slid my thumb across the screen to accept the call. “You’re right where I want you.”

He settled in next to me and gave me a gentle kiss on my bare chest as I answered the phone.

“Hi Dad. Yeah… Merry Christmas to you, too.”

Advent Calendar Day 10

TEN days into December? Wow. Where is this month going?!

I'm really happy and energized by the participation of all of you in this year's calendar. Something about creativity sparks creativity. Have you noticed that?

Today's offering is from Karan Kapszukiewicz. Karan is a talented artist as well as friend, and she came up with an idea for YOUR participation.

Below are several photos and we want to hear from you as to who these clasped hands belong to.

As Karan put it: I was wondering what people would make of the ring or no ring....plus, who do you think might be on the beach this Christmas, who would get engaged over dinner, etc. That sort of thing.

I was wondering the same. Furthermore, if you can make a convincing argument, you just might see your scene show up in a forthcoming book. :-D

Anyway, because this calls for a bit of thought and creativity--yeah, this one's interactive!--I'm giving away ten ebooks from my backlist to randomly selected commenters (and those commenters get to choose which book they'd like.)

So here we go. The photos are numbered. You tell us who you think the photo represents and what's happening in that scene. (Remember the backdrop offers you clues as to the pairing -- although if you want to send Will and Taylor to London, I can go with that.)


#1

#2

#3

#4

#5 

Christmas Coda 44

Christmas Coda #44

NIGHTWATCH: Parker and Henry

 

“I don’t do Christmas,” Parker said.

“Really?” Henry had answered. “I do.”

That’s where they were by then. This was the emotional odyssey from April to December.

Anyway, it wasn’t even completely true. Once upon a time Parker had done Christmas. He’d had a friendly, affectionate relationship with the holidays, even if he hadn’t always given them a lot of time and attention. That was another lifetime. Remembering how hard he’d worked to make up all those missed Christmases for Ricky… Honestly? Now days the idea of the holidays turned his heart cold.

At first Henry had tiptoed around Parker’s…call them sensitivities. Because he definitely had his weak spots, blind spots, sore spots. He knew it, and he did try to push past them. He appreciated the fact that Henry did not dole out kindness in measured doses. Henry was not a scorekeeper. Nor did he sweat the small stuff. He was a guy who had his priorities straight. Maybe that came from being a cop. Maybe that came from losing the love of your life.

Also Henry had a built-in bullshit detector like nobody else. Sure as hell unlike Parker who, as everyone knew, was one of the biggest suckers in town. Or he had been until he stopped believing in true love and Santa Clause.

But that wasn’t true either. He did believe in true love. He just knew it wasn’t for him.

Except sometimes when he was with Henry he thought maybe it was.

Maybe there was an element of guilt to Parker’s turning into the Boyfriend from Hell. He’d been working all autumn on an exposé of the investigation of the investigation of the investigation into the death of Police Officer Tori Sykes, and he knew Henry was taking a lot of heat from the, well, heat. He never asked Parker to cool it, never asked him to back off. The only thing he’d ever said was, “Are you sure of your facts?”

Reasonable enough, except Parker was a fanatic about his facts. Sometimes he felt like his facts were all he had left. He’d blown up. That was the first real argument they’d had.

It was not the last.

Once they crossed that line--the line of arguing about one thing when they were really pissed-off about something else--it was hard to go back.

But at least with Henry, Parker always knew where he was. And there was something liberating about being able to yell openly and loudly, and be yelled at back, and know he wasn’t going to be stabbed for it.

They weren’t moving closer, but at least he knew Henry wasn’t going to kill him when they broke up. Which they clearly were going to do.

Over Christmas.

“Okay,” Henry had said, “I’d like to have Christmas with you, but if you’ve got other plans, so be it.” He’d already assured Parker all he had to do was show up, and Parker had already declined to make the effort, so no wonder Henry sounded like suit yourself, asshole. 

He’d tried very hard to make it work. And Parker, who probably wanted, needed it to work more than Henry, had barely tried at all.

So Henry spent Christmas with Jared’s family and Parker spent Christmas at home working, and pretending it was like any other day.

But it was not any other day. It was the day he had finally managed to push Henry away. And for the first hour or so after he woke up with no Henry in his bed--and no word from Henry as to the next time they might see each other--he was relieved.

Thank God. The pressure was off. At last.

The truth was this had been destined from the first. Parker was damaged goods and Henry was just too damned nice. So. Big Relief. Merry Fucking Christmas.

Except it didn’t feel like relief. In fact, he felt sick with disappointment. Like he’d applied for a job on the New Yorker, got it, and then hadn’t had the nerve to pick up the phone and accept the position. What was that about? He had never been like this before Ricky. He hated this frightened, angry guy that he’d become. But he didn’t know how to stop. And if he couldn’t stop for Henry, then it was safe to assume this was who he was now.

By lunchtime--which Henry would be having with his late partner’s family, who would no doubt be encouraging him to dump this neurotic, unappreciative, loser journalist he’d saddled himself with--Parker was questioning his fatalistic acceptance that his relationship with Henry had always been doomed. Parker had worked his butt off to make things work with Ricky. Couldn’t he have at least tried a little for Henry? Given that, unlike Ricky, Henry would have met him halfway. Hell, Henry would have met him on the welcome mat, if he’d ever made any kind of real effort.

It was confusing because he really liked Henry. Everything with Henry had been so…good. When he had let it be. So easy, so right. Too easy. Too right. He couldn’t trust it. It terrified him. He always felt compelled to fuck it up. Not consciously. But really that made it worse. As if he just couldn’t help being a total shit to this very kind, very nice, very decent guy who was trying and trying to have a normal relationship with him.

There was no law that said, having messed everything up, he couldn’t try to fix the situation, right?

If it just hadn’t been for that note of finality in Henry’s voice when he’d said so be it. Like he was delivering the verdict in a trial that had dragged on for months. Which…was probably exactly how it felt to Henry.

Maybe Henry was feeling relief today too. Only in his case, genuine relief.

Henry had mentioned that Jared’s family had their Christmas dinner around two, so Parker figured Henry should be safely home by seven. He tried phoning Henry at seven thirty.

His call went straight to message.

“Hi, Henry,” Parker said to the machine. “I just want--wondered--hoped.” Well, that pretty much covered all of it, and with embarrassing frankness. He pulled himself together and said, “I forgot to tell you Merry Christmas. And I…miss you.”

The minutes passed.

Very long minutes.

When Henry was working, he didn’t always call Parker back immediately. It was possible he was still at his in-laws. It was possible he’d been called out to a crime scene. It was possible he couldn’t hear his phone ringing over the fantastic time he was having wherever he was. It was very unlikely that Henry was sitting at home listening to that message and deciding whether he was going to call Parker back or not.

But as the minutes ticked by, Parker felt more and more convinced that was exactly what was happening. Henry was trying to decide if he was going to give Parker one final chance.

And with each minute that passed, the odds were mounting against Parker.

He felt desperate enough to phone again, but managed not to. He didn’t want to scare Henry. He just wanted him to know…so many things. But they were things you had to say in person.

So why not make the effort to drive over to Henry’s and tell him everything he’d been thinking and feeling all day? About how he knew he’d been a fool and he wanted another chance. That what they had together, fragile and delicate as a Christmas ornament, was worth…well, deserved not to be dropped on the floor and smashed into pieces at least.

Okay. Yes. He would do that. He would drive to Henry’s and tell him all that. But in the meantime, he waited for Henry to phone because if Henry wasn’t taking his calls, this was all beside the point.

But maybe that was the point. To, for once, make the effort without waiting for  Henry to do it first.

Parker studied his phone, willing it to ring. The phone stayed silent. So okay. Henry would not sit here waiting for the phone to ring. Parker rose, found his wallet, shrugged on his coat, and opened the front door.

Henry stood on the other side of the security screen, hand raised as though he had been about to knock--or maybe punch Parker in the nose.

Parker said, “Henry?” Henry’s hand fell to his side.

“Merry Christmas,” he said. Gravely. Very gravely for Henry.

“I was just on my way to your place.”

“I was on my way over here when I got your call.” Henry was still looking very serious. Not like a guy brimming over with holiday cheer.

There’s nothing like an aborted launch. Parker felt off-stride, off balance. He unlocked the screen. Henry had not tried to use his key, which meant Parker’s instincts were correct. This was a mess.  He unlocked the screen, stepped back, holding the door for Henry.

Henry stepped inside, and Parker caught a hint of Henry’s aftershave and his leather jacket.

Henry glanced around as though he hadn’t stood in that very room three days earlier. The only concession to the holiday was Henry’s own Christmas card perched on the mantel and the remains of a frozen turkey dinner sitting next to Parker’s laptop on the coffee table. 

“Did you have a nice day?” he asked.

“Not really,” Parker admitted.

Henry nodded as though this confirmed something for him.

“I did. I actually had a really nice day,” Henry said. His eyes were blue and direct and unsympathetic.

Parker’s heart seemed to shrink a couple of sizes, like the Grinch in that Dr. Seuss cartoon. Only in the cartoon, the Grinch’s heart grew three sizes. He made himself say, “I’m glad. You deserve to have a really nice day.”

As a matter of fact, Henry deserved a lot of really nice days. He deserved for every day to be a nice day because he was a very nice guy.

“Yeah,” Henry said. “It made a pleasant change being with people who can occasionally look on the bright side, who aren’t afraid to hope or dream or just plan a goddamned vacation now and then.”

Henry was not raising his voice. He did not sound particularly angry, but he did sound…unrelenting. Like he had decided on his plan of action. And Parker was pretty sure he knew what that plan of action was.

He nodded because he could not find the words, and even if he had, his throat had closed. Like a steel trap clamping tight. So he nodded again.

“Jared’s sister Eileen brought a work friend to dinner. I didn’t know anything about it, but he was someone she thought I’d get along with, and she was right. We hit it off immediately. And if I wasn’t in this sort-of relationship with you, I’d have asked him out when we left the house together…” Henry looked at his watch, “forty-eight minutes ago.”

The fact that Henry knew to the minute when he’d said goodbye to this holiday blind date arranged by Jared’s sister hit Parker hard. He felt like Henry had punched him in the throat. He literally could not draw a breath. He sat down on the arm of the chair behind him because his legs wouldn’t hold him.

It wasn’t that he had taken Henry for granted. Not for a single second had he taken Henry for granted. In fact, he had known from the beginning, the first time Henry had kissed him, that he was only in remission. That eventually--and sooner rather than later--he would be alone again, struggling to get through the nights and trying to convince himself there was a reason to look forward to the days. Beyond the satisfaction of his work, that is. Because he did, as Henry had pointed out a few times, live for his work.

Which made a certain amount of sense, given that he’d nearly died for it.

Yes, he had always known this day was coming, but that didn’t make it any less painful. In fact, despite his preparation, he hadn’t really comprehended just how painful it would be. In a funny way, it hurt worse than getting stabbed in the chest. In a funny way, it felt more like a mortal wound.

But the one thing he still had was his pride, and pride made him say, “So I guess it was just as well I didn’t go with you today.”

Henry laughed. It was not a happy sound. “Right. That’s what I’m saying to you, Parker. Thanks for not spoiling my Christmas by having any part it in.” He shook his head.

Parker said, “What you’re saying to me is you tried for eight months and you’re tired of trying. And I don’t blame you. You’ve met someone and that’s…you deserve to be happy.”

“That’s exactly right,” Henry said. “For eight months I've tried. The problem is, I love you. I really do. And I’d be willing to keep trying forever if I thought there was any point. But I don’t think there is. Or I didn’t. Until this.” He took out his phone, stared at it for a moment then pressed the screen and held it up so that Parker could hear his own tinny voice sounding as choked and desperate as a kidnapping victim.

“I forgot to tell you Merry Christmas. And I…miss you.”

Henry said, “I listened to that three times before I walked up to your porch. I wasn’t sure if I was hearing what I wanted to hear -- or if you’re really trying to tell me that it matters to you that we weren’t together today. That it would matter to you if you didn’t ever see me again.”

“Of course it matters,” Parker cried, rising to his feet again. “I don’t want to lose you. But I don’t know how to do…this. And I know it shows. And I know I’m wearing you out. I’m wearing myself out. I was going to tell you--”

He stopped because suddenly Henry was looking at him like he was a ghost. The Ghost of Christmas Past or the Ghost of Christmas Future? It was such a weird expression that he actually glanced over his shoulder.

“You’re wearing your coat,” Henry’s voice sounded odd too.

Parker glanced down at himself. “It's cold out.”

Henry said slowly, as if he was doing some elaborate computation in his head, “You’re still holding your keys. You were on your way out?”

“I was on my way to your place,” Parker said.

“You were coming to see me.”

“I do sometimes.”

“Yeah, but.” Henry was still staring at him in something like amazement. “Not after an argument you don’t. I wasn’t sure you’d even notice I wasn’t here.”

“I do notice,” Parker said wearily. “I always notice. I like it when you’re here. I wish you were here all the time. I love you too. I didn't think I ever would again--feel this way. I just…”

“Just what?” Henry was walking toward him and Parker couldn’t seem to tear his gaze from Henry’s. He braced for impact.

“Think that I’m not easy to be with.”

“That’s for sure.”

“And you can do better.”

“So I've heard. But maybe I like a challenge.” Henry smiled, but there was something a little sad in the back of his eyes.

Parker understood. He was never going to love anyone the way he had loved Ricky. Henry was never going to love anyone the way he had loved Jared. But that was okay. It wasn't a competition. Or a test. Whatever was between them had lasted eight difficult months. It was real and it was tenacious.

Despite the shadows, Henry's eyes were kind again. Warm.  

And seeing that light in Henry’s eyes, Parker’s heart did the Grinch thing once more, expanding three sizes and then another size for good measure.

When Henry reached for him, Parker met him halfway.

Christmas Coda 43

Christmas Coda 43

THEMERMAID MURDERS: Jason and Sam

 

 

He didn’t expect to hear from Sam on Christmas Day.

By now Jason understood enough to know anniversaries, holidays and family get-togethers were problematic for his…well, what were they exactly?

More than friends and less than lovers.

In fact, anytime he thought about it--something he mostly avoided--he was reminded of that scene in Young Frankenstein where Frau Blucher declares, “He vass my…BOYFRIEND!”

Except Sam wasn’t. Was he?

As a matter fact, Halloween was the last time they’d really talked. Coincidentally he’d heard from Dr. Jeremy Kyser too. That was after he’d spoken to Sam though.

Anyway, it wasn’t like Jason was sitting around waiting for newly appointed BAU Chief Sam Kennedy’s phone call. As a matter of fact, those months were pretty damned grueling for Jason too. The part he’d had played in Massachusetts ended up giving his own career a nice boost. He was flying all over the country to consult with museums directors and art gallery owners.

No one was shooting at him. That was nice.

It was natural enough, given how much they were both traveling, that they hadn’t actually ever had time for that now legendary date. In fact, they hadn’t seen each other since the summer.

Well, no. It wasn’t natural.

But it was partly the job and partly--

Yeah, no. It wasn’t natural.

But Jason didn’t have anything to lose. He liked talking to Sam, liked looking forward to what they might do when they eventually hooked up again. In a way there were advantages to not seeing each other.  They could talk more honestly, more openly--like to a pen pal or a radio talk show therapist. 

Let’s be clear. Jason vassn’t renouncing…DATING! His schedule didn’t leave a lot of time for anything other than his schedule.

Which pretty much explained June through December. There was no phone call on Thanksgiving and only one very brief call mid-December.

So no. Jason wasn’t expecting a phone call from Sam.

 

 

Holidays were a BFD at Stately West Manor. Not Jason’s favorite thing, frankly. The BFD, not the holidays; he enjoyed holidays. Anyway, he believed in picking his battles. Every year, since time immemorial, his parents had hosted a Christmas Eve party for the movers and shakers of the City of Angels. Attendance, while not mandatory, was strongly encouraged. And being ambitious, Jason understood the importance of networking over the wassail.

When his cell phone rang, he figured it was work. Something about the holidays brought out people’s worst instincts. But Sam’s number flashed up and Jason’s heart flashed up with it. He excused himself to his brother-in-law the congressman and stepped out onto the terrace.

The chilly -- for Los Angeles -- night was scented with orange blossoms (the ornamental trees having been artificially forced into bloom) and lit by hundreds of tiny star-shaped lights strung everywhere you could possibly hang a fake celestial body. From the other side of the French doors he could hear a big band version of “Zat You Santa Claus?”

“Hey,” he said, and he could practically hear the champagne bubbles warming his tone. But he was glad to hear from Sam. No point pretending he wasn’t.

“Hey,” Sam said as terse as ever. But Jason could now recognize the gradations of terseness and this level of brevity was Sam practically oozing holiday charm.

“Where are you?”

Sam seemed to hesitate and for one crazy--and, admit it, thrilling--moment, Jason thought he might be about to say he was actually here in town.

What if this was the night? Light me up with me on top let’s fa-la-la-la-la-la…ahem.

But no. After that odd pause, Sam said, “Vegas.”

“Ah. Too bad. What are you doing in Vegas?”

Sam sighed, and it was a weary, weary sound. “The Roadside Ripper.”

Right. The night air was suddenly frosty, bitter cold. The Roadside Ripper serial killings were one seriously ugly case, and Jason was very glad he had no part in it although a lot of the L.A. field office was involved. The taskforce was one of the largest ever formed.

“How’s that going?”

“It’s not.”

In the background Jason could hear the chink of ice and clink of glasses and a lot of too loud voices. A bar. A Vegas bar on Christmas Eve. Come to think of it, he preferred Stately West Manor.

“You okay?” It wasn’t what he meant to ask. But he didn’t know what to ask Sam, and the fact was, he did wonder if Sam was okay. He worried about Sam, although that was probably ridiculous--Sam would probably think it was ridiculous.

“Yeah.” Sam sounded different. Almost…soft. “Are you having a Merry Christmas?”

“Sure. It’d be merrier if you were here.” Now that was definitely the champagne talking.

Sam laughed that low sexy laugh that Jason so rarely got to hear. “I don’t know. I’m not exactly a party guy. I’d do my best to warm you up though.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhm.”

“I’m still waiting for that date.”

“I haven’t forgotten.” A jinkle of ice sliding down glass and the sound of swallowing. “So what’s Santa bringing you for Christmas?”

And just like that the tone changed. Still warm, still friendly, but the distance wasn’t only geographic. It made Jason a little melancholy because he was beginning to suspect that date was never going to happen. Still, there had to be some reason Sam continued to phone.

They chatted for a few minutes and then Sam said, “I’d better let you go.”

And Jason made himself reply cheerfully, “Yeah. It’s good hearing your voice, Sam.”

There was another of those funny pauses where he thought he was about to hear something important.

“Jason?”

“Yep?”

He could feel his heart thumping with an uncertain mix of unease and hope.

Sam said very gently, “Merry Christmas.”

It sounded…like something else. Jason said huskily, “Merry Christmas, Sam.”

That little click of disconnect felt like the loneliest sound in all the world.

 

 

 

 

 

Advent Calendar Day 7

This morning's lovely gift to you comes from talented artist Catherine Dair, who did the illustrations for the Adrien English CYOA book.

This is a lovely little glimpse into A Case of Christmas.

Advent Calendar Day 6

Good morning! We have another very special Advent Calendar offering today.

This is from mystery author Meg Perry who writes the Jamie Brodie series -- and it's a crossover with the Adrien English world.

Grab a cup of coffee or whatever your favorite reading beverage might be. You're going to want a few quiet minutes to sit and enjoy.

Side Effects

Kate Keegan gripped the door handle and paused. She recited her new mantra in her head: Calm. Centered. Professional. Calm. Centered. Professional. She caught a glance of her reflection in the glass of the door; she looked grim.

Well, dammit, she felt grim. She squared her shoulders and walked into the West LA station of the Los Angeles Police Department. Her new workplace.

She’d asked to be transferred as far away from North Hollywood Division as possible. But there weren’t many available openings for detectives. West LA was the best she could do.

For better or worse.

Ha fucking ha.

Kate stopped at the duty officer’s desk. “Detective Keegan to see Lieutenant Banner.”

She was buzzed through a door and directed down a hallway. “Second door on your left.”

The first door on the left was apparently the detectives’ room; Kate heard banter and smelled burned coffee. She knocked on the second door. A male voice said, “Come in.”

As she entered, the man behind the desk closed a manila folder and stood. He was thin and greying, with intense eyes. He held out his hand. “Detective Keegan? James Banner. Welcome to West LA.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Kate saw a second man unfold from a chair. She turned to see a big, blond guy. About 6’4”, muscular.

Just like Jake.

Oh, shit.

She must have flinched; the blond guy had a curious look on his face. She tried to rearrange her expression into neutrality. Calm. Centered. Professional. The guy was holding out his hand. As she took it, he gave her a wide, disarming grin. “I’m Kevin Brodie. Your temporary partner.”

Oh, God. Say something. “Detective Brodie. It’s good to meet you.”

He tilted his head to the side slightly, assessing her. “You too. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

Lt. Banner spoke. “Brodie will show you your desk, get you settled in. I’m leaving for a meeting downtown, but if you’ll stop in at the end of shift, I’ve got papers for you to sign.”

“Yes, sir.” Kate turned and saw a second door, leading from the side of Banner’s office directly into the detectives’ room. Kevin gestured for her to go ahead of him.

The room was cramped, with cubicles jammed together in random arrangements. Against the outside wall was a row of doors. Kate pointed to them. “Interview rooms?”

“Right.”

A scraggly artificial Christmas tree was jammed into the corner beside the coffee pot. Some wise guy had decorated it with several pairs of handcuffs.

As she passed, conversations faded out as the other detectives watched her approach, then struck up again, more softly.

And she was the only woman in the room.

Great.

Kevin led her to the far corner, where four desks were arranged perpendicularly to each other in a sort of pinwheel. One of them had a clear surface, except for a computer and a thick blue notebook. Kevin nodded to the one across from his. “That’s your desk. I booted up the computer, but you’ll need to sign in. I don’t know what’s in the drawers - I think Elias cleaned it out pretty well.”

“Thanks.” Kate signed in to the computer and studied Kevin while she was waiting for it to boot up. On closer examination, he didn’t look that much like Jake. For one thing, he was at least ten years younger. His eyes were blue, not hazel, and he had a sprinkling of freckles across his nose and cheeks which made him look even younger. His hair was longer, and rumpled, and looked as if it tended to curl. He was built differently, too: whereas Jake’s muscles had been the result of hours in the gym, this guy was...rangier. He looked like an athlete, not a gym rat.

And there was that disarming grin again, which also wasn’t in Jake’s repertoire. “You flinched when you saw me in Banner’s office. Everything okay?”

Calm. Centered. Professional. “Sure. You reminded me of my ex for a minute, but you really don’t look much like him.”

“Glad to hear it. We don’t need that reminder every day, do we?”

“No.” Change the subject. She gestured at the other two desks. “Who do these belong to?”

Kevin pointed to his left. “This one is my partner’s. Jon Eckhoff. He’ll be here shortly. The other one belongs to the guy who will be your permanent partner. Max O’Brien. His transfer from Pacific isn’t official until next week.”

She picked up the blue notebook. A piece of paper with the word Vance written on it was slipped under the plastic protector. “This is the book for our case?”

“Yep. The victim is Dallas Vance. Twenty-four years old, lived in West Hollywood, stabbed to death in a church parking lot in Westwood. Our initial suspect was a guy named Carson Bondi, a financial planner from Riverside who’d been coming to LA to have sex with Vance every other weekend for the past six months.”

Shit. The case had a gay angle. Of course. She must have flinched again; Kevin was looking at her curiously. “Something wrong?”

“No. I mean...” She sighed. Hell, everyone in the room probably knew already. The news must have spread this far. “My ex left me for another man. I’m a little sensitive about the gay thing right now.”

Kevin frowned. “I understand. But let me warn you, before you go all homophobic on me - my younger brother’s gay. As is Max, your future partner.”

Kate glared. “I’m not homophobic. It’s not that. It’s that I didn’t...” She stopped. Calm. Centered. Professional. “I’d rather not discuss it right now, if you don’t mind.”

“All right.” Kevin nodded at the murder book and continued. “Bondi called 911 and was found at the scene covered with blood. But the murder weapon was missing, and we didn’t have enough evidence on Bondi, so we had to drop the charges. Vance had put up a fight, and we just got the DNA back from under his fingernails. It was male, but didn’t match Bondi. Didn’t match anyone in the system. Bondi thinks he’s being framed, but doesn’t know by whom. We looked at his business rivals, but they all checked out.”

Kate turned past the crime scene photos; she’d come back to them. She turned to a page with a drawing of a knife. “Is this the murder weapon?”

“Yeah, at least the coroner’s best guess. They were able to get some good casts of a couple of the wounds. They couldn’t identify the knife, though. It’s not in any of the databases.”

Kate looked up at Kevin in surprise. “Really? It looks like a carpet knife.”

“A what?”

“A carpet knife. Carpet installers use them to trim the edges as they’re fitting it to the room. You’ve never seen carpet installed?”

“I guess not. You’re sure about that?”

“Yeah. Are any of the players in the case carpet installers?”

“No. But… Let me make a call.” Kevin flipped to another page in the book and dialed a number, then put the phone on speaker. A woman answered. “Hello?”

“Mrs. Bondi? This is Detective Brodie from the Los Angeles Police Department. We spoke a couple of weeks ago about your husband’s case?”

“Yes.” The woman sounded…tired? Resigned? Maybe both.

“When we were there, we showed you a picture of a knife. You said it looked vaguely familiar. We think now that it may be a carpet knife. Could you have seen a knife like it when your house was being renovated?”

“Actually…yes.” The voice sounded a little more energetic. “That is where I saw it.”

“Can you tell me what company laid the carpet?”

“No, that was all handled through the decorator.”

Kevin flipped to another page and pointed out a name to Kate. “The decorator being Britt Everly?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, Mrs. Bondi, that’s great. You’ve been a big help.”

The woman hesitated for a moment, then said, “So Carson is cleared.”

“Yes, ma’am. The DNA results showed that the victim had been fighting with someone else, not Mr. Bondi.”

“I see. Thank you.”

Kevin said goodbye to the woman and hung up. He leaned back in his chair and gave Kate another of those wide grins. “You may have just busted this case open, Detective Keegan. And in your first hour with the West LA division. That’s got to be some kind of record.”

Kate scowled. “Yeah, we’ll see.”

Kevin tilted his head and studied her again. “You’re pissed off.”

Calm. Centered. Professional. “Bondi was married.”

“Still is, for now.”

“Did his wife know anything about what he was doing up here?”

“She says not.”

“Another liar.”

“Yes. Which is one of the reasons we didn’t believe his story at first.” Kevin leaned forward and spoke softly. “Listen. I know who your ex is and what happened. You’ve got a right to be angry.”

Kate crossed her arms and snapped, “Thank you for telling me how I’m allowed to feel.”

He held his hand up. “No, no. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just saying – this is a safe space. You can say and feel whatever you want.”

Safe space. Kate sighed, suddenly deflated. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s not necessary.”

“It’s just…” She waved her hand at the pathetic excuse for a Christmas tree in the far corner. “It’s a difficult season.”

“Understood.” Kevin pointed to the corner behind him, where an unadorned metal pole stood. Kate hadn’t noticed it before. “Do you know what that is?”

She frowned. “An amputee coatrack?”

“Ha! Good one! No, that is a Festivus pole.”

“Oh. Uh – I didn’t watch Seinfeld much.”

“That’s okay, neither did I. This started out as Jon’s thing. But it’s a tradition now, here at West LA Homicide. On December 23 we gather around the pole for the Airing of Grievances. And we always have plenty of grievances.”

“Are you serious?”

“Completely.” He reached into his desk drawer and produced a legal pad and a pen, which he handed to her. “Want to make a list?”

Kate uncapped the pen. “I’ll warn you, it’s gonna be a long one.”

He grinned. “Bring it on.”

She shook her head, chuckling, and began to write.

*****

You can find out more about Meg Perry and her work right here.