Exposure Page 13

  Rafe nodded.

  They walked back to the house, Jack in his underwear, Rafe in a shirt that was soaked through and held up in back. As they walked into the house, Jack smiled at the sight of Rafe’s ass, at his squodge. Each of them needed a shower, Jack supposed, but Rafe began to make coffee, shivering, his scrotum a tight, crumpled package.

  They took the coffee upstairs and stood by a back window, watching the shed burn, the night lit red and gold, a plume of smoke rising into a night sky that was clearing, the moon now and then visible between the clouds.

  Rafe finished his coffee and put the mug on a table by the window. He turned away, put his hands on the sill and watched.

  “You think someone will come?” he said.

  “Tell them you were asleep.”

  “What about you? Are you going?”

  “If you want me to.”

  “I want you to stay.”

  Jack nodded quietly, his eyes locked on Rafe’s. He stretched a hand out and cradled Rafe’s cheek. Rafe closed his eyes and swayed. Jack took him in his arms, his body damp, but burning with warmth. He gripped him tight and kissed him on the top of the head. Rafe made a sound, a mewling, and Jack gripped him tighter.

  Then Jack leaned forward and collected Rafe into his arms, as though Rafe was his bride, and he was about to carry him over the threshold. He carried him into his bedroom and laid him on the bed.

  Rafe stared up at him, his eyes quiet and dark.

  He was hard.

  Jack put a knee on the bed, and then another. He laid down beside Rafe and stared at him, and then began to caress his face. In the light of the burning shed, he was so beautiful. He wrapped a hand over his hip and drew Rafe forward with a hand in the small of his back. Then he kissed him again, a peck on the corner of his mouth.

  Rafe groaned.

  He reached for Jack’s cock and held it with one hand, and then with two, making fists of his hands and testing its length.

  “I want you to fuck me,” Rafe said.

  “I want to.”

  Rafe nodded. “You can do whatever you like, whatever you want with me.”

  Jack glanced at the kitchen tongs on the night table. He really wanted to see Rafe’s gear clamped in them. He reached for them. Rafe lifted his eyebrows, surprised. Jack lifted himself into a kneeling position and gripped Rafe’s balls. He rolled them in his hands, squeezed them a little, and Rafe’s cock jerked. It had a teardrop of slick on the head. Jack leaned forward and licked it off, teasing Rafe’s balls a little. He straightened up, and then clamped Rafe’s balls between the grips of the tongs, tightening the little catch until it was secure.

  Rafe drew in a sharp breath, and then put his thumb in his mouth and began to suck. Jack watched on in the firelight, glanced from Rafe’s face to his balls. Rafe’s feet were turned inward awkwardly, and at the sight of all this, Jack almost came.

  He turned Rafe onto his side, onto his hip, and shuffled behind him. Then he thrust forward, the head of his cock butting Rafe’s hole. He pushed, pushed again, and slipped inside Rafe. He slipped all the way in and paused. Rage groaned, sucking on his thumb. Then Jack began to pump, at first slowly drawing himself in and away again until he got into a rhythm. He held Rafe’s hip, and then reached over it and gripped the Rafe’s balls in the head of the tongs. He squeezed teasingly.

  Rafe said, “Harder.”

  Jack increased his pace a little. It seemed incredible to him that Rafe’s balls were ensconced in the tongs, the space being so narrow and so metal. He squeezed a little more, and Rafe said,

  “Harder. Faster.”

  He picked up his pace, thrust and thrust and thrust and thrust and thrust and thrust again. Then he came to a halt, jacked his cock right up Rafe’s ass and squeezed the tongs cruelly. They came simultaneously, Rafe groaning and jittering.

  They lay for minutes, warmly enlocked.

  44

  In the wan light of morning, someone knocked on the door. Jack supposed it was the police.

  Rafe lay on his back, naked, his legs and arms askew. His head was turned toward Jack. He slept on, despite the disturbance, his eyes closed. Jack watched him tenderly. Eventually, he opened his eyes. He met Jack’s calmly.

  “I was dreaming of you,” he said.

  Jack nodded.

  A second knock echoed through the house.

  Rafe jolted. “Who’s that?” he said.

  Jack shrugged. “The police?” He was resigned to it, he supposed.

  They got up slowly. Downstairs, he turned on a light, a light in the hall and a light outside. He took a breath, and then opened the door. It was Aaron.

  “I need help,” Aaron said. “I need your help, Rafe.”

  “What?”

  “I need some coke.” He said, and then saw Jack. He reeled backward a little, his eyes bleary and red. He looked as though he hadn’t slept in days. He pushed past Rafe and into the house.

  Rafe closed the door.

  “Where is it?”

  “What?”

  “Your supply?”

  “I don’t touch it.”

  “I know, but you’re financing everything.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Mike.”

  “Fuck.”

  Aaron nodded, as though it all made sense.

  Then a car pulled into the drive, its lights swinging across the house. Was this the police?

  Jack stepped across the room and parted a curtain. It didn’t look like it—a small hatch, a Ford Fiesta, a red one. He watched a young woman climb out of it, and then realized it was Jennifer, the girl from the bank. She glanced up at the house, a lighted window, and then advanced on the door.

  “It’s Jennifer,” Jack said.

  “Oh. No.”

  Aaron nodded. “I told her to come and get the money. She said you stopped Mike’s cheque—the hundred thousand.”

  Rafe nodded, frowning. “Of course I did. It isn’t his money. I never said …”

  Jennifer knocked on the door.

  Rafe opened it.

  “Hi, Rafe,” she said. “Sorry it’s so early, but I need that money today—the hundred k. Do you have that much in the house?” It looked as though she was dressed for work.

  Rafe shook his head.

  “Well, I need something. The deal is today, and if I don’t have the funds, then someone, somewhere, is going to be very unhappy with all of us.

  Jack wondered who, but then pictured some shadowy kingpin, a Mexican with a dark, swarthy face.

  He closed his eyes and shivered. He was cold. He’d put on his trousers and shirt, and everything was damp.

  Rafe was dressed in a pair of briefs, a pale blue pair with a white elastic band. He looked incredibly vulnerable, standing up against Aaron and Jennifer. Jack crossed the room and stood behind him. He put a hand on Rafe’s shoulder.

  “What are you? His father?” Jennifer said.

  Jack winced.

  It occurred to him that he didn’t like her. She seemed to have a very mercenary attitude.

  “I need the funds, Rafe,” she said.

  Rafe nodded. He turned to Jack. Jack stared at him determinedly. He wanted to get Rafe out of this, but he didn’t know enough.

  “Who’s going to get unhappy with you?” he said to Jennifer.

  “The supplier.”

  “And you think it’s okay, getting involved in this sort of work?”

  “I’m already involved, and who, anyway, are you? Some loser who set himself up as a private detective to get into Rafe’s pants. I heard you were watching the house. Are you after money?”

  Watching the house? How on Earth had she heard that? The only person who knew was Rafe, and Rafe wouldn’t have told anyone except maybe … Mike. It all came back to Mike.

  “Fuck, Jen, do you have anything on you?” Aaron said.

  “I can spare you a line. One.”

  Aaron nodded feverishly.

  She opened her handbag, drew out a small plastic pa
cket with plenty in it as far as Jack could see, and then drew a line of coke on the coffee table. She searched for, found a straw, and handed it to Aaron. He collapsed onto his knees by the coffee table, blocked one nostril, and inhaled the line.

  “I need to get out of this,” Rafe muttered to Jack.

  “You sure do.”

  “This’ll have to be the last time.”

  “Can you make that clear?”

  Rafe nodded. “I have about fifteen thousand in the safe,” he said to Jennifer.

  “Right.”

  “But that’s it,” Jack said. “After today, that’s it. He’s not financing anymore.”

  “Who are you?” Jennifer said.

  “A friend.”

  “Right.” She smiled to herself. “Or maybe more than a friend. What do you boys get up to?”

  Jack ignored her, but Rafe started angrily.

  Jack leaned forward and whispered in his ear. “Don’t let it get to you.”

  Rafe nodded.

  “Well,” Jennifer said. “Fifteen thousand, then, and I’ll cut my losses. No profit for you though, Rafe. You’ve fallen through.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “And he’s out of it,” Jack said. “Out of the whole thing.”

  Jennifer nodded. “More profit for me, then.”

  Rafe opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again.

  “I’ll have more than you one day,” Jennifer said. “More money and a bigger house.” She nodded to herself. “You just wait and see.”

  Rafe stared at her for a moment, but then turned and walked away. Jack followed him into a study with a dark, wooden desk, wooden shelves, an armchair, and a fireplace. Rafe reached for a painting on the wall and revealed a safe.

  “Is that all you have?” Jack said, meaning the fifteen thousand.

  “I have about fifty, but I need to get out of this.”

  Jack nodded.

  Rafe span the dial back and forth a few times, drew three wads of money from a pile Jack couldn’t help staring at, and then closed it again. He set the money on the desk and stared at it.

  “You really have to be careful with money, you know?” he said.

  Jack nodded.

  They returned to the hall. Rafe handed over the funds, and Aaron and Jennifer left.

  45

  Rafe took a shower and came out dressed in a white jockstrap with a red elastic waistband and red elastic straps. He put a pair of sandals on, his watch, and turned to Jack.

  “You have anything I could wear?” Jack said. He plucked at his sodden trousers.

  Rafe opened his wardrobe, drew out a pair of jeans and a shirt and tossed them at Jack. Jack stripped down and then, naked, tried to pull the jeans on, but they were too small.

  “You have anything bigger?” he said.

  Rafe shook his head, and reluctantly, Jack dressed in the wet clothes again. He picked up his jacket, took his cigarettes from the inside pocket and lit one.

  They walked downstairs and through to the family room only to be confronted with the ruins of the barn in the distance, a blackened pile of wood.

  “Shit,” Rafe said. He opened the doors, stepped forward onto the veranda, but after looking for a few moments, came back again.

  Jack put his cigarette out, crushed the butt between his fingers and walked into the kitchen where he put it in the trash.

  “You want an omelet?” Rafe said.

  “Okay.”

  “Ham and mushrooms all right?”

  “Sure.”

  They ate at the kitchen table, Jack aware of a new quality to the light—the space where the barn had been. As they finished, his damp shirt and trousers began to annoy him, and he figured he’d have to go home in order to get into something dry, into something that would fit him.

  He told Rafe he was going and Rafe blinked, looking hurt.

  “I thought you’d stay all day.”

  “I would, but these are wet—and muddy.” He paused. “I’ll come back,” he said. “I’ll go home, take a shower, and come back again. I might even pack a bag.”

  Rafe nodded and then smiled. “Maybe tonight we could …”

  Yes, thought Jack.

  A few moments later, they were wandering upstairs together. Jack thought maybe, but Rafe simply wanted to use the bathroom. Jack turned into the bedroom and glanced at the bed. That had been so good last night. Incredible.

  Idly, he reached for Rafe’s phone, which was sitting on the night table. If those photographs of Mike were still on it, he thought, he could …

  A photograph of himself confronted him. He was lying on his back, asleep, but had an erection. The sheets had been pulled away, revealing his body. He tapped and was confronted by a second photograph. This was a close-up of his erect cock. Rafe must have taken them during the night. There were no others, and the photographs of Mike had gone.

  “I’m going to have to get going,” he said when Rafe reappeared.

  Rafe nodded.

  He pulled into the drive at home and glanced at the house. He didn’t want Em or Carol to see him in a damp and muddy suit, so he sat on for a minute or two watching the place. It looked as though no one was home, but when he came into the kitchen, he found Em’s living room door closed. They were most likely in there.

  He took a shower and changed quickly, and then walked back into the kitchen to find Em, seated at the table.

  “Jack!” she said. “Where have you been?”

  “At a friend’s.”

  She nodded and gulped. It looked as though she’d been crying. “Carol’s in the hospital,” she said. “She went into shock yesterday, after the accident. I’m going to go and visit her in a moment if you want to come.”

  Jack agreed, and after he’d cleaned his teeth, they set out in Jack’s car, headed for the hospital. Carol was ready to leave as it turned out. Her knees were bandaged, but aside from that, and some blood on her white satin dress, she looked fine.

  “You okay?” Em said.

  She nodded.

  Em took Carol’s elbow and led her toward the main entrance. She was steady enough on her feet, but a little slow.

  “I’ll go ahead and open up the car,” Em said. “If you give me the keys, Jack.”

  The day was bright and hot. The detritus of the storm littered the parking lot, which was damp, leaves and twigs and grass. The air was steamy, and already it looked as though another storm was building.

  Jack had to pay for the parking. He left Carol outside the main doors and trotted across the pedestrian crossing to the automatic pay station. He’d only been here for twenty-five minutes, but it was going to cost him nine dollars, the machine said. He searched his pocket for coins and then heard the toot of a passing car.

  He glanced back, saw a red Ford Fiesta, and at the wheel, Jennifer. She had her hand out of the window and was saluting Carol, who had raised her own hand. The Fiesta came to a halt outside the main entrance and Jennifer got out.

  “Carol!”

  “Jen!”

  “I got the money. Not all of it, but I have fifteen thousand.”

  “Right.”

  “Can we go out to his place?”

  Carol lifted her eyes and glanced at Jack. She looked hunted. She shrugged and got into the car, just as Jack had finished with the machine.

  “What?” he said. He turned, hurried back to his car, and hopped in. Em was in the passenger seat. “Carol just got into Jennifer’s car and left with her.”

  “Jennifer?”

  Jack nodded.

  “Not Jennifer Langley?”

  “Does she work in a bank?”

  “That’s her.” She paused, appeared to think, and then said, “What’s that bitch doing with Carol?”

  “Let’s find out,” Jack said.

  He started the car and took off with a squeal of tires. The Fiesta was just now exiting the lot, the boom gate falling behind it. They had had to wait by the look of it. There was one other car in the left lane, but t
he right, which was not exactly open to Jack, was empty. He crossed the barrier and poked his card at the slot reader. The boom gate opened and he roared away. The Fiesta was about to turn left onto MacArthur’s Parade.

  Jack followed it to the corner, waited for one car, then another, and then turned out a little precipitously before a truck going too slow to hit him. He roared ahead until he was fender to fender with the car in front.

  “Keep your eyes on them,” he said.

  Carol nodded.

  Whoever was behind the drugs had to understand that Rafe had nothing to do with them anymore. He was out of the deal, and out of the whole thing. If Carol could lead him further up the chain than herself, if she was herself in the chain, and it looked like it, then he might just have a chance at securing Rafe his freedom.

  They pulled onto the highway, headed east, away from Sebring Lane. Jack followed close on the tail of the car ahead. In front of it, Jennifer was pulling away.

  Jack glanced in his rear view mirror and looked behind him, then he scanned the road ahead. He indicated, and pulled out, but at that moment a SUV towing a trailer appeared ahead. He pulled back in.

  “Shit!” he said.

  Carol and Jennifer were getting away.

  A line of cars trailed the SUV, and it was three or four miles before Jack could try passing again. When he’d managed it, the Fiesta had disappeared.

  He put his foot down, edged five, ten, fifteen miles over the speed limit, and then passed the sign for Leonsville. Thirteen miles.

  “You see them?”

  Em shook her head.

  Jack was frightened of another wreck, and of a speeding ticket. He tried to keep to ten miles over the limit, and decided that was as far as he dared push it.

  The clouds were building up to the west, but whether it would rain or not was unclear. Overhead, the sky was clear, waves of steam rising from the tarmac, the atmosphere oppressively close.

  After a few minutes he came upon the railroad crossing, a grain silo, and a billboard for McDonald’s, ten minutes ahead. Franco lived on the outskirts of the town. His house was approaching on the left, and though Jack had no thought of turning in and seeing Franco, he indicated at the last possible moment, and the car slewed across the road.

  The Fiesta was sitting in the front yard.