Only Love Matters Box Set

Chapter 3

Chapter 3Wednesday passed by in a blur of minor incidents on the bus and too much coffee. When I wandered into the precinct at five thirty-eight, I was exhausted, irritable, and hungry. The reception area was a mad house, and when this one guy got away from the cop who’d been trying to keep hold of him, we ended up tangled on the floor. What was it with people running into me lately?

I kept my arms around the guy as he wiggled and cursed me out, calling me all kinds of lovely names, some of them on point, since yes, I was an overweight homosexual—slurs inferred. Eventually, two officers took charge of the dude and I stood, brushing off my uniform. Thankfully, there were no rips or lost buttons.

I walked up to the receiving desk and asked the female cop on duty if I could speak with Detective Simms. “I told him I would stop by after work.”

She smiled and pointed a thumb behind her. “Down the hall. He’s at one of the desks on the left. Oh hey, thanks for helping out with Scott back there.”

My eyebrows furrowed. “Scott?”

“The guy on the floor. He’s a repeat offender, and when he’s high, it can be difficult to contain him.”

“Uh, okay. Sure, any time, I guess.” I nodded and followed her directions. Detective Simms was on the phone, seemingly having an argument with the caller when I reached his desk. He looked up at my approach and ended the call seconds later.

“Thanks for stopping by,” he stated, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk. “You look different…definitely intimidating.” I’d been told that before about my work clothes. Whatever. I sat and remained quiet, waiting for him to tell me the reason I was here so I could go home and crash. The fact that his skin-tight long-sleeved red polo shirt emphasized every inch of his massive chest in mouth-watering fashion wasn’t enough to distract me from how tired I was. And that he was still a pain in the butt.

We stared at each other until Simms said, “Look, I’m sorry about last night. I work really screwed up hours and I sometimes forget that not everyone is on the same schedule as me.”

I shrugged. “What was it you wanted to tell me?” I needed to get this over with.

He sighed. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?” For a second, I thought he seemed disappointed, but I reminded myself Simms was an asshole and I was only here to suit his purposes.

I gaped at him in disbelief. “What, you want to be my friend now? Cut the crap. You have a case to solve, I found the body. Get on with it. I’m hungry.”

He grinned. “Bet it takes a lot to feed that body of yours.” And now I was disappointed. And pissed.

“f**k you!” I yelled, then remembered I was in a police station, and there were handcuffs and holding cells available for me to stay for unspecified lengths of time. Now, everyone was staring at me. Great. “Sorry. Just, can we not make fun of me and get this over with?”

Simms frowned. “Why are you so touchy about everything? There’s nothing wrong with the way you look, or how much you do or don’t eat. It was a joke.” Right.

“How am I supposed to know that? I don’t even know you, and why do you care?” I snapped.

He studied me for an interminable period of time, it seemed, pen tapping against the disorganized sheets of paper on his desk. “Fine. The dead man was an attorney at a firm downtown, Roger Metz, thirty-nine years old. He’d had dinner with his wife, Patrice, on Saturday evening, then went to his office to pull an all-nighter on a case. He was last seen leaving his building around noon on Sunday, and then you found him.

“We would like you to work with a composite artist to get a graphical representation of the man who ran into you on the day of the murder. He’s our main person of interest and having that image will help us narrow down searches in our database. Are you amenable to any of this?”

Not really, but what the hell. “Whatever. You obviously have my phone number. Right now, I work the same shift during the week, sometimes on the weekend, though if you’ve been checking up on me, you probably know that. If I need to come in before the end of my shift, however, you need to give me a heads-up so I can get someone to cover my route.”

“Tomorrow work? Same time as today?” he asked. I nodded and stood, but before I could leave, Simms said, “Why didn’t you put your father in a home when he developed dementia?”

Damn, he was thorough. “What does this have to do with the case?”

“I had to rule you out as a suspect, though I knew you weren’t involved. It was just procedure.” Then he frowned and leaned back in his chair. “Most people would have chosen outside care. You could have kept your job, even had tenure by now at that university. Instead, you took care of your dad with every penny you had, and now live in a crappy apartment and drive people around all day.” My dreams of a Ph.D. and writing world-changing theses had fizzled long ago.

My only response could be, “He was my dad.”

* * * *

After yet another shitty day and enduring Randy’s ecstatic exclamations of “We’re pregnant!” for the entire lunch break—and the occasional text—I stopped by the precinct on Thursday evening to work with the artist for a couple of hours until we were satisfied the representation was as accurate as could be produced. The woman who did the composite thanked me for my time, and I headed out of the building, walking to the Subway that was still open and only a couple of blocks from my truck.

I ordered a tuna footlong, along with chips and a drink. The line was pretty short this time of day, and once it was ready, I walked to my dad’s old pickup, which I’d taken over driving when he couldn’t be trusted behind the wheel anymore.

Why did Simms—I never thought of him as Holland, for some reason—have to bring up my dad? It had been painful enough, watching his slow decline. My mom had died years ago, and it had just been the two of us, watching out for each other, Dad telling me to work hard and ignore the shitholes in the world that wanted to put me down because I grew up poor, and I was gay, and on and on.

I had loved and respected my dad, and it had hurt so much, seeing him die that way, thinking he had an enemy in every face he met, getting frustrated with himself and others because he just couldn’t…remember. Crying because he was afraid. f**k Simms anyway for bringing back those memories.

I got into my truck and drove home, only to encounter Henry in the hallway as I walked up to my door.

“Hey, Fitz. How’s it hanging?” He seemed so happy these days, almost lit up from inside. I didn’t understand what he saw in Jerry, but…what did I know?

“I’m okay,” I replied. “How’s Jerry?” I unlocked the door and turned to face Henry in the hallway.

“He’s the best, you know?” No, I didn’t. “We have s*x, like, every day, and it never gets boring. We’re planning a weekend getaway soon, and then he’s introducing me to his parents.” I hadn’t even known about Jerry’s family. Henry grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I know he’s cheesy and a bit of a flirt, but I like that, and we’re good together.”

Did Henry’s asshole hold the secret to finding love, or something? Maybe he should patent that s**t. “Glad to hear things are working out for you.” Not. “Later.” I closed the door and focused on my dinner.

As I sat in front of the TV petting Rapunzel a few hours later, my cellphone buzzed. I looked at the screen and saw it was a text from Detective Simms. What now?

I opened the message and read that the database had a hit on the drawing. Turned out the victim had a half-brother. His wife had never known of her husband’s sibling until the police informed her. They were closing in on the suspect now and hopefully would either solve the case shortly, or come closer to getting some answers.

I decided not to respond. What was the point? Our “acquaintance” was based on a murder case, and I was so far below his league it wasn’t funny. And he infuriated me. And I was attracted to him. And this was a dead end. And my track record was crap at this kind of thing.

* * * *

By the time Friday evening rolled around, I had snapped at Randy a few times, yelled at a number of passengers, and come pretty damn close to quitting. Seriously, college students had been easier to manage. Disgusted with myself, I clocked out and drove to my apartment complex, only to find Holland Simms, dressed in a rose-pink button-down shirt and navy-blue blazer, with gray pants, leaning against a Jeep Cherokee in a nearby “Visitors” parking space. I hated that my heart skipped a beat at the sight of him.

I hopped out of my truck, grabbed the six-pack of beer, and tucked it under one arm before locking up. “I thought I told you I didn’t want to see you at my apartment again.” I turned and propped myself up against the truck, watching as he came to stand two feet away from me. God, he smelled good.

He grinned. “This is the parking lot.”

I thought about kicking him on the shin, just because, but I restrained myself, for once. “My part in the case is done, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he replied, “and the department appreciates your assistance.”

“So, why are you here?”

“I want to ask you out on a date.”

* * * *

I stared at Detective Simms like he was a new species of rodent. “Say what, now?”

He smirked, which made me want to slap him. “A date? You’ve heard about such things, haven’t you?”

I rolled my eyes. “Heard about them, yes. Done them, not so much. It’s more a ‘get-off and go’ type of deal. The last guy I was with came around for a booty call on the regular. It was never more than that. It’s what I’ve come to expect.” Shut up.

“Please. Hot guy like you? You probably have them lining the streets, practically coming in their pants to have a chance with you.” Was he high?

That comment caused bitter laughter to burst out of me. “If s*x was all I wanted, it wouldn’t be an issue. And for your information, detective, I was too busy taking care of my dad, which you know, and before that, going to school and teaching, which you also know, to even think about dating. What sane man wanted the kind of baggage I brought to the table? And anything else was simply because I needed release, or the other guy was desperate enough to ignore everything about me that everyone else despised.” s**t, I need to stop running my mouth.

Simms looked at me like I was crazy. “Are you nuts? I wanted to jump so badly when we met, but it wouldn’t have been professional.”

I scoffed even as I felt a glimmer of…something…at his confession, because he had to be lying. He had to. “Please. What is this, some kind of ‘let’s show our appreciation to the plain, dumpy guy who just stumbled across a body’? Is that what this is? Some way of assuaging your conscience or something? ‘Cause I’m not buying it.”

Simms glared at me. “This pity party of yours is pathetic. You could have whatever you want, whomever you want. You’re letting the past rule your life.” And the pity that crossed his face made me feel shame—and anger. Who did he think he was, to judge me?

I shoved him back with my free hand. “Whatever you think you know from your research about me, means s**t. You know nothing about who I am, so f**k you for your presumption!” The fact that he could see to the heart of me, things I kept hidden, even from myself, it seemed, cut deep. “What I do, how I conduct my goddamn life is none of your business.” I was shouting now, and I couldn’t make myself stop. Screw you for…” And my voice broke. “Just…go away.”

“Fitz,” I heard Simms say, but I ignored him and walked toward the building.

I heard footsteps behind me. “Fitz, I’m sorry. Please, just stop.” He grabbed my wrist and I tugged, trying to get away. He wouldn’t let go.

I was ashamed of the tears I could feel at the corner of my eyes. I didn’t want him—anyone—to see me like this. “Haven’t you done enough?” I asked, voice low and defeated.

“I was wrong,” he replied, wiping away a tear that had escaped, anyway. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I promise. I see the man you are, and I just…Look, I really want to get to know you better, as badly as I’ve portrayed that.” Simms stepped back and let go of my wrist, watching me warily.

I realized, then, that I’d been holding my breath. “You’re an ass,” I said, not really wanting to forgive him, but feeling myself thawing just the same.

“I know.” I looked at him in the glare of the overhead lights in the parking lot. He seemed earnest and…contrite, which I had not expected.

Not knowing what to say right then, I walked around him and entered the building, heading for the stairs. Simms stayed right behind me, his scent inescapable in the stairwell. Guess he wasn’t going away anytime soon.

“So, are you gonna say ‘yes’ to a date?” He was back to his smart-assed self. God.

“Not interested,” I replied, though the rest of me knew my response for a lie. A guy like Simms, as arrogant as he could be, was twenty times the man Jerry would ever be. I pushed open the door to the fifth floor and let go, hoping it would smack Simms in the face, just for my amusement. No such luck.

“Yes, you are, though why you keep denying it, I don’t know,” Simms replied, and I rolled my eyes.

“Has anyone ever said ‘no’ to you before?” I muttered as we turned the corner, just in time to see Henry and Jerry plastered to each other, as usual, against Henry’s door. My breath hitched, but I played it off, coughing as quietly as I could while hurrying to my door and unlocking it.

I turned to tell Simms to “piss off” one last time and let me wallow in my own misery, when I noticed him studying the two men with a frown.

“What?” I asked, and watched a scowl take over his face.

“Which one of those guys hurt you?” he asked softly, and my heart began to pound. How did he know? And wasn’t that the last straw?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” was all I could say in reply before stepping inside, using one foot to keep Rapunzel from getting out, as was the norm, while attempting to shut the door in Simms’s face.

Instead, he took the beer out of my hand and placed it on the floor before dragging me back out into the hallway, shutting the door on Rapunzel, and leaning in to kiss me like his life depended on it.