Omorphi (71 page)

“I’m kidding. It isn’t broken. Which means our day is shot.” He held his hand out for the phone, and Christy handed it back to him. “Do you have Jake’s number in here?”

“Under Michael Consultation.”

If Michael hadn’t been half-asleep he would have cracked up. “Great.” He found the number and dialed. Jake’s voice mail answered, and he frowned. Twenty minutes until lunch. He’d wait and call again. He tossed the phone aside. “Morning, babe.”

Now Christy smiled. “
Kaliméra, filos.
”

Michael pulled Christy to him. “Bad night?”

“Good, after you came here.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay. Let’s go back to sleep.”

“What about school?”

“It’s two-thirds over.”

“May I paint?”

“You can do whatever you want to do, babe. Where’s Rob?”

“He came and gave me medication and left.”

“He didn’t want us to get up?”

“He didn’t say so.”

“Okay. I’m going to sleep for another twenty minutes. That okay with you?”

“You can do whatever you want to do, babe.”

Michael chuckled against Christy’s neck. “Right. Copycat.”

M
ICHAEL
woke alone to silence. He rolled onto his back and listened intently as he tried to push sleep from his mind. When he didn’t hear anything, he rolled out of bed and climbed the winding staircase, the staircase that he’d come to regard as Christy’s staircase to both heaven and hell.

He found Christy sitting atop his high stool, painting. “Hey, babe.”

Startled, Christy spun and almost fell off the stool.

“Whoa, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Michael steadied him and kissed the top of his head. “Doing okay?”

“Okay.”

Michael rubbed Christy’s back in long slow strokes as he studied the canvas. “What are you painting?”

“This is when my father takes me from the hospital when I am young. It is the first thing I remember after my mother died.”

Michael studied the painting. Christy’s young form looked mummified as someone carried him down a hallway. “What are you wrapped in? A sheet?”

“Something white. That is all I remember.”

“Is that your father?”

“He was the manservant of my father.”

Michael looked at the canvas on the easel to Christy’s right. It was a sketch of what he intended to paint. “This looks like you’re in a hospital bed.”

“Mmm. Both of my legs and one arm were broken from the accident. I was in the bed for a long time. This man here”—he pointed at the first figure in the sketch—“was my father’s private doctor.” He pointed at the second figure in the sketch. “This is to be my father.”

“He doesn’t have a face.”

“I don’t wish to paint it.”

Michael rubbed a comforting hand down his back again. “I don’t blame you. Can I use your phone?”

“Of course. It is just there.” Christy pointed to the table that held his many palettes of paint.

Michael dialed Michael Consultation and got Jake on the first ring. “Hey, bro.”

“It’s about time, sleepyhead.”

“How’d you know I was sleeping?”

“Talked to Christy. You gonna make practice? Everyone’s looking for you. It’s supposed to be your first day back, remember?”

“What time is it?”

“End of school.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“Call your parents so they’ll know where you’ll be.”

“Security will tell them where I’m going the minute I get in the car. I’ll talk to ’em after practice.”

“Your call. Or not.”

Michael hung up. “I’ll come back after practice.”

Christy looked up at him. “Thank you for coming last night.”

Michael smiled. “My pleasure.”

“Why did you come? You are in running clothes.”

“I needed to unload some stress and decided to run over here.”

Christy’s eyes went wide. “This is almost nine miles.”

Michael shrugged. “I did it in two legs.”

“Is the stress from me? The accident in the water?”

Michael shook his head. “I had a disagreement with my dad.”

“About me?”

Crap.
“Yeah.”

“What about me?”

“My dad sort of suggested that I might date other people before I decide to marry you.”

A smile flickered across Christy’s lips and was gone. “You tease me.”

“Do not.”

“You said this to your father?”

“Not in so many words. It was more like no, and no way, and I’m Christy’s for as long has he wants me.”

“You said this?”

“Yep.”

“How long can I have you?”

“Forever.”

Christy looked uncertain, anxious, a smile working hard to form on his lips. “You do not tease me? You mean this?”

“No, and I do.”

Christy launched into his arms, accidentally painting the side of his face with a deep blue streak before planting a heart-stopping kiss on his mouth.

Christy withdrew with a smile. “Okay. If this is the plan, I wish you to come tomorrow morning to take me to school. I will paint tonight.”

Michael chuckled and wiped the paint from his face with a rag. “I’ll call you after practice. Lock the door behind me.”

“W
OO
-
HOO
!
You made it!” Jake hollered as he jogged across the field to meet Michael. He gave him a dubious look when he reached him. “Don’t tell me you slept all day.”

“Christy painted. I slept.”

The guys from the team came over and welcomed him back with cheers and high fives. “Thanks, everybody! Better get on it before Coach gets on you!” The crowd dispersed.

“Hey, Michael.” Stephen cuffed his shoulder.

“Hey, Stephen, how’s it going?”

He pointed to the stands, and Jerry waved back at them.

Michael waved. “One whole fan, just like me.”

“Check it out, more than one.”

Michael looked again and saw Lisa and George sitting in the stands. “Wow. We’re drawing a crowd, man.” He waved at them too.

“You okay? You don’t look so good.”

“Just tired. Jerry okay after yesterday’s swim?”

“Good. How’s Christy?”

“He’s okay.”

“Sattler!” Coach O’Malley called.

“See you in a few.” Michael headed off across the field. “Hey, Coach.” Michael shook hands with him.

“Nice to have you back.”

“Thanks. Nice to be back. How’s practice been?”

“Always better when you’re here. The shine of the championship has worn off a little, and rumors about Jason are rampant after the moment of silence we had this morning in memoriam.”

“I imagine they would be.”

“I’m sorry, Michael. I can only imagine how hard it’s been on you. How’s the diaphragm?”

Michael smiled a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s all good. Don’t even feel it anymore.”

“Jake said you took a couple of long runs over the weekend.”

“Yeah, probably not much for practice today.”

“Have a seat.”

Michael sat on a nearby bench as Coach blew his whistle and gave everyone instructions for practice. Jake trotted over to collect the stopwatch and gun. “Everything good, bro?”

Michael gave him a thumbs-up.

Coach sat down next to him. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you with a long face. Do you want to talk about it?”

Michael shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t think I can.”

“Because it’s too hard or because of whom Christy is?”

Michael’s eyebrows shot up.

“You’re not the only one with access to the Internet.”

Michael didn’t know what to say, and it showed on his face.

Coach spoke softly. “We were told that Christy was a witness to a crime when he enrolled here. A protected witness. Then I saw his neck. Then I took a look at his feet. It wasn’t hard to conclude that the crime he’s a witness to is a crime against him.”

“Crimes,” Michael corrected.

Coach accepted the rectification with a nod. “So, I did some research.”

“The news reports and pictures are sickening.”

Coach shook his head and sighed. “Do your parents know?”

“Yeah, and Mr. Santini is Christy’s attorney.”

Coach nodded in approval. “Christy seems to be adjusting well here.”

Michael smiled, a bit of pride filling him. “He’s doing all right.”

“So, what gives with you?”

“My dad wants me to see other people before I, quote unquote, settle for someone like Christy.”

“That doesn’t sound like your father.”

“I know.”

“Is Christy your first serious boyfriend?”

“Yeah, but that’s not the problem. The Jason thing almost pushed my parents over the edge. Then, one of Christy’s abusers entered the US a couple of days before our meet. Rob, the guy who runs Wellington, thinks he came here to find Christy. My parents just found out about it. Dad thinks it puts me in harm’s way again.”

“Understandable.”

“It doesn’t make me happy either, but I’m not going to give Christy up because of some jerk who abused him.”

“Doesn’t sound like your dad is asking you to give him up. Sounds like he’s asking you to see other people.”

“Setting aside that I’m a totally one-man kinda guy, Coach, how do you think that would go over with Christy?”

“I understand.”

“The worst part is that no one’s told Christy the creep is here. Everyone thinks he’ll panic and go back to Greece.”

“What would it help for him to know?”

“I don’t know, I just don’t think it’s fair not to tell him. But I also worry that it’ll upset him, and things that upset him are seriously not good for him. He freezes up when he’s scared and doesn’t always come out of it on his own.”

“I heard he fell into the lake with Jerry yesterday.”

“Yeah, it was a bad moment.”

“Did he panic?”

Michael shook his head. “No, he just hung onto me when we got him out of the water.”

“Have you ever seen him panic?”

“Only once, when someone came on to him.”

“I heard about that. That’s been resolved, though, hasn’t it?”

Michael nodded. “I can’t help but think if he doesn’t know and the guy shows up, it’ll shock him as well as scare him. I think the shock is worse than the scare for him. If he knows ahead of time, he’ll be scared, but we can help him.”

“A difficult decision. What is Christy up to today?”

“Painting. We decided he’d paint a statement for the Greek police.”

“He hasn’t given them a statement yet?”

“He hasn’t been strong enough to. That’s one of the reasons he’s at Wellington. So he can work with the psychiatrist there.”

“A painted statement. That’s an interesting concept.”

“He’s excited about it.” Michael idly kicked the dirt on the track beneath his feet.

“What do you want to work on today?”

“Whatever works.”

Coach O’Malley ruffled his hair. “C’mon, you can help me with everyone’s starts.”

M
ICHAEL
’
S
attitude improved greatly at practice. He loved his teammates and didn’t realize how much he’d missed them during the week he’d been away. Jake razzed him until he got a smile out of him, and that helped too. He adored Christy beyond words, but it felt good to be in his old world for an afternoon. It’d been a while. Jerry, Lisa, George, and even Jorge were waiting for them when they left the locker room.

“How was your first day back, Mike?” Lisa asked.

“Great. Thanks for hanging out.”

“We’re your new cheerleading squad, didn’t you know?”

“Woo-hoo! Jake, we have the hottest cheerleaders in school!”

“You know it, bro!” He smacked Michael and Stephen’s hands in high fives.

This caused even Jorge to burst into laughter. “Can you see me in a short skirt with a couple of pom-poms in my hands?”

George gave Jorge a sidelong glance. “Seriously, Jorge. I can dig it.”

“You’d be so hot!” Jerry added.

Jorge flushed a nice caramel-crimson, and George and Jerry cracked up.

“How are you getting back to Wellington, Jerry?” Michael asked.

“I’m supposed to go with security, wherever they are.”

“How’d you get to school?”

“I drove him,” Stephen answered.

Michael pointed across the parking lot. “The black SUV with the gold emblems in the windshield and rear window, that’s security.”

“Bro, you going with me?” Jake asked.

“Yeah. How are you guys getting home?” he asked Lisa.

“My bike.” Lisa pointed across the parking lot.

Bike?
“That Harley is yours?”

“Sure. You’ve seen it before.”

Michael had seen it before, usually next to another Harley-Davidson. “It’s usually parked next to another one.”

“Gavin’s bike.”

“How’s he doing? He wasn’t at practice today. Neither was Noah, now that I think about it.”

Lisa shook her head. “They’re still hurting after the attack. Truthfully, I think they’re having a hard time coming to terms. You need to remember, they’re not out.”

Crap.
He’d forgotten about that. “Anything we can do?”

She smiled. “Naw, they just need a little time on their own. They’ll be okay.”

Jorge held his keys up and jingled them. “George and I are out.”

An old, rusty gray sedan with loose fenders suddenly burned rubber into the parking lot and tore down the aisle, headed straight for them. “Move, move, move!” Michael shouted. They scattered on both sides of the aisle but not fast enough. Buckets of liquid pitched from both sides of the car, painting all of them in red.

Two guards jumped from the security SUV and ran to halt the old car, and it careened into the parked cars before screeching down the exit aisle. John, the lead security guard, made a motion with a hand, and a second security SUV took off after the car.

Michael got to his knees and rubbed the red viscous fluid from his eyes with the scraped, gravel-ingrained heels of his hands. “Everybody okay?” He got to his feet and realized the red fluid wasn’t paint. He smelled it and couldn’t mistake the tangy, coppery smell.
Shit.
“Everybody be careful! It’s blood. Make sure it doesn’t get in your eyes or mouth or any cuts.”