Play It Again, Charlie (11 page)

“That's obvious with one look at you.” He caught a glimpse of Jeanine's hand as she waved it his direction. “Why the hell aren't you sleeping?” she demanded, and Charlie raised his head. She was red in the face too, and sweating. He should never have leaned on her; he would bring the cane with him from now on.

“I'm sorry.” Charlie frowned down, put more of his weight on the car.

“Look at you.” She peered at him over the top of her glasses. “You look like you haven't slept in a week, and you can barely walk.”

“I can walk,” he started to say immediately though he was still shaking, and Jeanine flicked her glasses off in one contemptuous move.

“I know you don't like to talk about yourself, but is it something with your family?” She crossed her arms, and for the smallest moment Charlie had the feeling he was being interrogated. He raised his chin. “Your love life?”

“I don't— ” Charlie shut his mouth but had to break her gaze. He felt his mouth twist down, but he managed to keep his voice level. “I don't have a love life.”

“And whose fault is that?” Jeanine snapped at him, and Charlie bit back the words that sprang to mind. His eyes were still on the ground, and he moved his hand from his hip to gesture at himself. Jeanine made a noise. “If you say your hip I will seriously consider strangling you.”

Charlie looked up, his mouth open before he recalled himself enough to close it. Beyond that he was frozen, staring down at her determined face, and then there was a new flush of heat at his cheeks. She'd wanted to say that for a while.

“Which would be nowhere near the ass-kicking you need to get moving.” Jeanine put her hands on her hips. She looked uncomfortable and defiant at the same time. Charlie breathed hard for a moment and then shook his head.

“I don't want... . You don't need to fuss over me. It'll be fine.”

“How about if I drive you home?” Jeanine wasn't as reassured as his sisters would have been at his firm words. The heat under his skin had nothing to do with the weather, but when Jeanine sighed and ran a hand through her hair, he looked away.

It was the middle of the day. There would be almost no traffic. The drive should be easy.

“I'm fine,” he answered, but he kept his eyes away while he dug out his keys. Jeanine made that noise again, and Charlie glanced back at her. “I don't want to bother you.”

“Really, Charlie, just let me make a call.” She stepped back into his space, and Charlie's fingers slipped on the keys before he found the alarm button to unlock the doors. He gritted his teeth and then had to shuffle to one side to open the door. He couldn't hide the quick way he stepped back in and tightened his hold on the car door, not with her right there, but he heard his voice rising.

“I'm
fine
.” He spoke through the pain. “I just need to catch up on my sleep.”

“Funny how you keep saying that.” Jeanine was calm, her eyebrows up as though she knew everything, when she didn't know a single thing about what this was like. As though everything was easy and he was just looking at it wrong. As though all it would take was some light comment or confession to make it all better. What did she want him to say, that he was in no shape to drive? That he was tired from his pathetically sleepless nights and couldn't hold back his anxiety at the thought of driving? What good would it do to admit that?

“Damn it,” he swore under his breath, but Jeanine heard it.

“Yes?” Her whole attitude said she wanted to hear all about how quiet his apartment was, how full it had seemed with someone like Will in it, and how
stupid
Charlie had been to kick him out. She even sounded eager like Will, as though what he said now mattered. “Something to say, Charlie?”

He looked at her again, into her face, and opened his mouth.

“Jeanine... just... .” He paused, not moving, and then lifted his head. His breathing was loud, shocking him before the words were out. “Shut up.”

He didn't feel the tight line at his forehead ease, barely felt the burn of standing in one position for too long. He should apologize, he knew that, part of him not believing that he'd actually said that out loud. But Jeanine didn't look close to tears; she didn't even look mad.

“Well,” she said finally, settling back on her heels. “I didn't know you
had
a temper.”

“Of course I do.” The snap in his own voice shouldn't have surprised him, wouldn't have if he'd been around Will, who made him want things he knew were impossible.

“No, it's been nothing but ‘I'm fine’ with you for years now.” She uncrossed her arms. Charlie exhaled. The sun was beating down on both of them now and would only get hotter the longer they stood out in the middle of the parking lot.

“What's wrong, kiddo?” she went on, calling him “kiddo” as though she wasn't two years younger. “It's not... .” She trailed off before she said Mark's name. He interrupted her anyway.

“No.” He edged himself down into the driver's seat.

“I really will drive you home.” She kept her voice low now that she'd gotten what she wanted. Charlie stared up at her. There was a line in her forehead too. “I meant that. Or I can listen.” She shrugged and Charlie swallowed. “Whatever.”

“I'm not dying,” he pointed out, sarcasm and anger getting easier with every breath. But then he stopped, expecting some snarky remark about how he wasn't living, either, but Jeanine was quiet. He looked through his windshield. “I'm just tired.”

“Well, don't expect me to cover your ass on Monday,” she tossed at him immediately, “if you're ‘just tired'.” Charlie narrowed his eyes before he got the rest of the way inside the car and adjusted to a position he could pretend was comfortable. Slamming the door was childish, and if he hadn't already been flushed, he would have burned with embarrassment. Jeanine apparently didn't see it that way. She grinned before hopping over, rolling her hand until he lowered the window.

“Believe it or not, Charlie, a little pain is a good thing. It lets you know where you stand.” He wondered if she'd be mad if he flipped her off. She'd probably think it was funny. He lifted his eyebrows at her and heard Will's voice coming out of his mouth.

“Kinky,” he remarked and was pleased that that at least surprised her for the second time in a few minutes. She made a shocked face before stepping back.

“Whole story one of these days, I'm not kidding,” she threatened, getting louder as the car started to move. He could swear he heard the sound of her laughter over the noise of the engine. His face was still stinging by the time he got on the freeway.

There were cars passing him, fast and pissed off, the open window making them seem louder, too close. He held tighter onto the steering wheel. Despite the sweat on his face, his mouth was dry. His cell phone was in his pocket. He could call someone, Jeanine, and she'd come get him. He couldn't call anyone else.

But this always passed and he would have inconvenienced her for no reason, so he stayed in the slow lane while in the tunnel, ignored the walls on either side of him that meant he'd be pinned if something did hit him. Jeanine had meant well, and for a moment he could remember himself, drunk and admitting that of course no one would want to be around someone afraid to drive, someone who couldn't even take care of themselves, and then mentioning his mother.

The heat was making his head pound, tension turning his already sick stomach to a churning mess as he got off the freeway. He wasn't going to attempt to eat. He was going to get home and try to pass out on his couch. He had a whole weekend to cool off, get back on his feet, and not think about anything if he could help it... except for the dead flowers he had to replace in the courtyard.

He rolled up his window before he'd even parked in his space, then turned off the car without getting out. He tugged at the knot of his tie as he finally opened the door, and he hauled himself to his feet without a chance to enjoy the fresh air.

It wasn't just the remnants of anxiety that were making him tremble. He looked up briefly at the curb, the walk along the sidewalk just to get into the complex, toward the courtyard he couldn't really see.

It didn't help when he looped the strap of his bag over one shoulder and shuffled to the back of the car to stare at his cane. Clenching his jaw didn't keep back his pained gasp when he had to swing out of the way to open the door, then step back in. The cane was still under the passenger seat and stuck under the backseat.

He dropped his bag to the ground and yanked at his collar again until he popped one button. He looked up again, at the walk he had to make, knowing there was no way he could make it on his own right now.

“Christ,” he swore, and he groaned as he bent over and leaned in to grab it. He
just
got his fingers on the slick, polished wood and tried to pull. The noise that escaped when he tried to bend down further and get closer was louder and higher than a groan, but the cane wouldn't budge.

This wasn't going to work. Charlie closed his eyes, breathing hard for a minute without moving and then wincing as he tried to pull back.

“Here, let me.”
That
voice on top of everything else made him jerk upright and spin around. He fell back, one hand flailing until it hit the top of the car. He was a mess, and even if nothing could have been done to improve his appearance, the twist in his lower body was a reminder that he could barely stand up on his own. He felt every bead of sweat at the edge of his hair.

Will was close and bright and clean, not sweating though he was out in the heat, but then, he only had on jeans and a loose white short-sleeved collared shirt, opened to reveal a black undershirt. He was staring into Charlie's face, and Charlie dropped his gaze to the large black plastic case in one of Will's hands. Then he brought his eyes up to the bare skin above Will's collarbone.

Charlie was too hot to blush and let that be his excuse for the tightening of his throat and the way he hesitated before looking into Will's face. There wasn't a hint of glitter about Will today despite the spikes in his hair. His eyebrows were drawn together, his lips pressed with no sign that he had spoken at all.

Charlie swallowed, ignoring his parched throat and the blood pounding in his ears. It was loud next to Will's silence. Charlie curled his hands and jerked his gaze away to the early afternoon sky, then down to the cement.

“I don't need any help.” He stared at his bag, meant to keep his attention there, but Will shifted, made a sound that was almost a laugh. It drew Charlie's eyes back.

“Of course you don't.” Will's face, normally so expressive, was totally blank. “You've made that more than clear, Sergeant Howard.”

The unvoiced apology from last night stuck in Charlie's throat. He hadn't meant to be so harsh, but Will shouldn't have minded, or practically made love to another man on his balcony to make sure Charlie knew how attractive he was.

Charlie had known that from day one. His gaze went over that warm skin again, to Will's face, and he let out a breath when their eyes met.

He glanced away, then let the car take his weight because he couldn't use it to disappear. When he swept his eyes down, he saw Will's hand tighten on the handle of the black case. Will had on his cowboy boots, and one turned when Charlie didn't say anything, as though Will was seconds from leaving.

Charlie turned his head to stare at his car.

“Are you on your way in?” he asked quickly, wetting his lips, and he looked back in time to catch Will's fleeting frown. The idea that Charlie must be the cause, no matter how unbelievable, made him lift a hand to rub at the back of his neck. His palm was damp and did nothing for the sweat at his hairline.

Will stared up at him, then lifted his chin.

“Actually, I'm on my way to work,” he responded easily, and Charlie flicked a look to the black case. “Yes, the twink does work.” As though he knew what Charlie thought of him, Will was all challenge. He visibly perked up when Charlie tensed. His gaze went to Charlie's position against the side bumper, then behind him to the backseat of his car. It touched on the bag Charlie had thrown on the ground before returning to Charlie's burning face. His mouth curved up into something cool and inexplicably irritating. “And why are
you
home this early, Sergeant Howard?”

“Stop that.” The low words slipped out, an order that he had no right to give, and Charlie put his weight back on his feet to step away. He bit back another gasp when pain shot down his left side.

Will's eyebrows went up, and then he was frowning before Charlie could explain that he hadn't meant to say it like that, that he had only meant that he didn't like to see Will so different.

“You don't get to tell me what to do, Charlie.” Will stuck his free hand in his front pocket. Hearing that and not “Sergeant Howard” again was distracting. Charlie wondered if Will had meant to say it. Will's stance was surprisingly arrogant, his legs spread, chin up, and Charlie swept another glance over his vaguely punk hair.

“What's that supposed to mean?” That Charlie didn't get to tell him what to do, but that others did, that Charlie could have? No one should be telling Will to do anything, except when he was too careless to take care of himself. Will tossed his head.

“Just because it's ‘your building’ doesn't mean I have to listen to you.” Will took his hand from his pocket to gesture. Charlie narrowed his eyes and thought he must have imagined the way Will straightened up.

“It
is
my building.” Charlie straightened too. Will raised his chin. His expression was stubborn and foolish and young, and that's practically what he was, a kid, acting like that, showing off for Charlie.

Charlie scowled, watching the startled flicker come and go in Will's eyes without understanding it. Charlie had a few gestures too and waved at the building before pointing to Will. “And you should listen to
someone
before you... .” With Will's continued silence he could hear himself, unreasonably worried and bossy when he knew too well that Will's safety wasn't his concern.

He shut his mouth, spent a few moments trying to slow the rapid heartbeat he could hear in his ears. When he looked over again, Will had his head angled to the side but hadn't otherwise moved. There was a small line between his eyes, and Charlie imagined smoothing it with one finger, then glanced away again. That was too close to last night. Masturbating to images of anonymous strangers was one thing; obsessing about someone close that he didn't have was just sad.