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FAKE First Year Together: Justice (June)	By : BrittColumbia Category: +. to F > FAKE Views: 2128 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Fake or Sanami Matoh's characters. I am not making any money from writing this work of fanfiction.

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Fake
First Year Together: Justice (June)

By
Brit Columbia

Chapter Four

Fandom:
Fake
Pairing: Dee/ Ryo
Rating: Worksafe.

Spoilers: To Volume 7
Timing: Set in June, a
month or so after book 7 ended. Dee and Ryo recently became a couple
in May. A New Day left off on Sunday night. This chapter takes place
a few days later on Wednesday.
Summary: Ryo is coming to terms
with what it means to be a gay man in a straight world. He and Dee
are also hunting the dangerous Lieutenant Abernathy...but who is
hunting whom?
Disclaimer: I am not making any money for the
writing of this work of fanfiction, nor do I own Fake or any of the
characters created by Sanami Matoh. Andre is mine, however, and so
are Brian Webster, John Hambler, AKA Jackhammer as well as
Octavio Rojas.
Author's notes: Ryo first met Brian Webster
in A New Day, chapter 10. The flashback of Ryo's conversation with
Diane is from Poison, the first in my FAKE First Year Together
series. Just to confuse everyone, I wrote the second in the series (A
New Day) first. And now I'm writing the third.
Thank you
to the_ladyfeather,
tripple_p and
loki_the_fraud
for the beta help.

Previously in Justice: Dee and Ryo got
an opportunity to do a brief search of Lieutenant Mike Abernathy's
apartment, and now they're trying to get a warrant. They are using
Mike's cell phone to call his street contacts so they can try to find
out more about the Bad Lieutenant's illegal activities.

Fake
First Year Together: Justice (June)

By Brit
Columbia

Chapter Four: Sins
of Omission.

Dee tossed Ryo the
list. "Pick one, me fine dandy, and I'll give the man a call,"
he said in a fair imitation of Mike Abernathy's Irish brogue.

Ryo
frowned at the list of names. It was like Russian roulette. They were
taking a chance by calling any of Mike's contacts. Some of them had
been listed by tags that were obviously nicknames, but they had no
way of knowing whether the contacts actually answered to these names
or whether Mike had just randomly assigned code names to
them.

Eliza's former partner, Allison, had been back from her
maternity leave since Monday, and was spending her first week back
just helping out others on the squad. She had been more than happy to
track down the registered names of all the contacts on the list, plus
their service providers. A few of the names even had addresses next
to them. But it was clear from the information she had painstakingly
compiled that there was only so much that could be gleaned from
numbers and names. For instance, the third number on the list, with
the name 'Ben' next to it was registered to a 'Dr. Sun Yat-Sen', who
was apparently alive and well and living on Jerome Avenue in the
Bronx. Allison had helpfully written 'Jian Bing Chinese Restaurant'
next to it. The seventh number was registered to a 'Don Duck' and had
an upstate address. The contact name was 'GG', which could stand for
just about anything. It was hard to know which one to pick.

"How
about this one?" Ryo pointed to number six. The contact name,
according to Abernathy, was 'Pol'. The registered name was 'Viva
Lasvegas'. "It's a cell phone, not a land line. Maybe this
person's an LEO. 'Pol' might stand for 'police'."

"Sure,
gotta start somewhere," Dee said, as he picked up Mike's cell
phone and dialed the number. Ryo crowded close to him to listen.

On
the seventh ring, they connected, but it was immediately evident that
the person they had called was fumbling with his cell phone.

"Shit!" a muffled voice exclaimed. "Goddamn
phone. Shit." There was some rustling and clicking, and then the
voice said in a more subdued tone, "Uh-oh," and after a
long pause and a bit more fumbling, it came back louder, and with a
fake note of bonhomie. "Mike! How you doing? Sorry I forget to
call you. Had a couple problems, you know? No good, no good."

Ryo's
eyes flickered to Dee's. The guy on the other end of the line was
speaking with a Polish accent and sounded apologetic. Ryo hoped Dee
would push him a little.

"Don't be givin' me a song and
dance, asshole," said Dee. "I'm running out of
patience."

"Hey Mike, no need for dat. I got your
money. Well, most of it. I gotta give it to you before I get robbed
again."

"What the hell do ye mean, 'most of
it'? It better all be there if you know what's good for you. I'm
comin' to meet you right now. Where are you, man?"

"Right
now? Uh...okay, I guess dat is okay. Um, where am I? Uhh...
Hey lady, where am I?"

They heard a female voice in the
background answer, "Planet Earth, loser," and the guy with
the Polish accent called out in an exasperated voice, "I know
dat, lady, but what street? Huh? Well fuck you, too!" Then his
voice came back louder. "Mike? You dere?"

"Yeah,
I'm here," Dee said, still in character as Mike. He made a face
at Ryo and twirled his finger in the air next to his temple. "Look
around you, what do you see?"

"I see...coffee shop,
I see skinny dog with three legs...no wait, he has four. I was wrong.
I see..."

"Do you see any subway stations? Street
signs?"

"Uhhh...Yeah! Yeah, I see subway. Way down
dere. Can't read it, too far away. My glasses--"

"Just
start walkin', asshole. I don't have all day."

"Okay,
okay! Jeez, Mike, don't be mad. I got your money, like I said."
He was obviously moving because he was puffing for breath.

"How
much is missin'?" Dee asked, just to keep him talking until they
could get his coordinates.

"Only hundred fifty. I
got--"

"What the hell do you mean, ONLY a hundred
fifty?"

"Wasn't... my ...fault, Mike!" The guy
paused to catch his breath. "It was Gerry's boys. Dey....dey
jumped me in-- Whooh, I gotta slow--"

"Have you
stopped walking?" Dee demanded. "Just keep walking toward
that subway sign. Talk and walk at the same time."

"Huh!
Jeez, Mike, you hard SOB. Oh-kay--" more wheezy panting-- "I
walk now. Talk later."

After a rather tense minute of
dramatic puffing, during which the guy never once took the phone away
from his mouth and ear, they finally heard him speak again.

"Oh-kay,
I read now. Dis place is...51st Street. IRT. You want me stay
here?"

"I'll meet you on the platform. Southbound.
Got it?"

"Yeah, Mike. Platform."

"Tell
me again about the hundred fifty."

"Oh! Well, you
know Gerry's boys. Dey jumped me in park. Took my money."

"You
mean MY money."

"Yeah, but dey didn't get it all.
Only some. I fight! Ha. Big surprise for dem."

"You
okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Got black eye. Some bruises. You
know? I am lucky they stop."

"We'll talk later. Go
wait on the platform. I'll be there in twenty minutes or so. If you
have any problems, call me at this number."

"Gotcha.
Northbound, right?"

"No, you idiot. Southbound."
Dee hung up and grabbed his suit jacket. "Let's go, Ryo."

On
their way out the door, Ryo stopped at the front desk. "Janet,"
he said, "Would you please let the Chief know that if we're not
back by two, it means we're not coming to the meeting?"

"Sure
thing, Randy." She winked at him. "Kick bad guy butt out
there."

He smiled shyly and gave her a little wave before
hurrying after his partner.

Marianne sidled closer to Janet.
"What do you think happened to Randy's suit?" she asked in
a low voice. "It looks like he slept in it."

"Yeah,
it IS kinda mussed, isn't it? That's not like him. He's always the
guy with the knife-edge crease."

Marianne giggled.
"Maybe he had to tackle a bad guy before work this
morning."

Janet smiled back. "Or a bad
girl."

"Randy? Somehow, I don't think so."

"Do
you believe the rumors, then? Don't forget he had a girlfriend a
while back. Meredith."

"Yeah, Meredith. SO wrong for
him. It couldn't have lasted."

"Well, maybe he just
hasn't met the right woman yet," Janet said casually, her eyes
on her computer screen.

"He probably never will. That guy
is married to his job. And if he ever marries a human being, it sure
won't be a woman."

Janet opened her mouth to respond, but
at that moment the switchboard lit up with two new calls, and
Marianne immediately turned away to answer them. Janet shrugged and
went back to her work.

&^&^&^&^&^&^&^&

Ryo
strolled down the platform steps, his eyes flickering over the dozen
or so people on the platform. He saw Dee standing by the exit at the
other end, seemingly engrossed in a newspaper. Most of the men on the
platform did not look like the type of guys who would owe Abernathy
money. There were a couple of lone suits, two teenage boys vying for
the attention of a multiply-pierced Hispanic girl, a middle-aged sad
sack holding a pet carrier and speaking anxiously to an elderly
woman, and finally, a grumpy-looking black man in baggy jeans and a
white singlet. Ryo's eyes lingered for a moment on him. Could that be
the guy? He couldn't quite reconcile the winded voice and Polish
accent of the man they had talked to on the phone with this young
lion. But on the other hand, this guy did look like the kind of
person Abernathy would like to have in his power.

He glanced
at Dee, who indicated, with a minute jerk of his head, a drunk
sitting slumped on one of the benches. The man looked like a leggy
pile of rags. He had wild, unkempt white hair and a scraggly beard
with bits of debris clinging to it. As Ryo approached him, he saw
that one of the man's eyes was swollen and had dark bruising around
it. This had to be the one.

"Hey," he said softly,
hoping it wouldn't be necessary to shake this guy awake. His clothes
looked like they hadn't been washed in months, and Ryo was not crazy
about the idea of touching him. Unfortunately, his soft voice
couldn't be heard over the loud snoring noises that were issuing from
the old man's open mouth. Ryo took a breath to speak a little louder,
when suddenly he heard the rumbling of an approaching train. He
closed his mouth and stood back as the train thundered toward the
platform, the brakes letting out a long screech as it drew to a halt.
The breeze it created stirred his hair and the old man's beard, and
the stranger came bug-eyed awake, just like that.

"Wha--who--wha?
Oh, you ain't Mike. Hooh, my damn heart!" He put a hand to his
chest and closed his eyes for a moment.

"No," said
Ryo. "I'm not Mike. But I work with him. We're brothers in
blue." He gave the guy a half-grin, hoping he appeared
convincing.

"You know Mike? Well, where da hell is he? He
say he gonna meet me here."

"He couldn't make
it."

"So he send you?"

Ryo shrugged. "I
guess I was the only one available."

"Who da hell
are you? Mike usually send Maria. No offense, guy, but she more cute
than you."

Ryo shrugged. "I don't know what's up
with Maria. All I know is it's me, not her, this time. Mike's the
boss."

"Mmmm...I don't know 'bout dis." The old
man looked wary. "I don't wanna give you da money. Only
Mike. I don't want no trouble."

"It's okay,"
Ryo said. "I'm not here for the money. Mike has a bigger problem
right now and he needs our help."

"Uh-oh. What kinda
problem?"

"He needs to move some heroin to a safe
place, just for a couple of--"

"What?" hissed
the old man. "Drugs? No way, man, you tell Mike, I hide stuff, I
sell it, okay, no problem, but no drugs! Uh-uh, not me. He never ask
me before, why now? Fuck dat." He folded his arms and glared at
Ryo with a combination of anger and fear.

"Look, you want
me to go back there and tell Mike you said no?"

"He
know I don't like smack. Or coke, or any dat hard shit. He know me!
He call me 'Crazy Andre', but I ain't dat crazy. Drugs is
how a guy get killed."

Ah, so his name was Andre. That
would help. Ryo, who had been hoping to steer the old man into a
discussion about why Mike had to move the alleged heroin and where he
might allegedly keep it, seized on this new opportunity to get some
more names out of Andre.

"Look," he said, taking a
seat next to Andre. "Believe me, I sympathize." He looked
around a couple of times, pretending to be furtive, before lowering
his voice conspiratorially. "I think it's just gonna make you a
target if you're hanging on to seven K of prime junk. I mean, that's
not only a pretty big responsibility, but it's dangerous as
hell."

"Damn right, buddy, damn right! Seven fucking
K, Jesus Christ. Hey, what you say your name--"

"Shh,
I've got an idea," Ryo said, looking around once more. "Mike
only wants you on this job 'cause he can't get in touch with some of
the others who usually move drugs. If you put me in touch with those
guys, I'll talk to them for you, get 'em on board and then pitch it
to Mike. Okay? We'll get you right out of this. What do you say?"

"I
say yeah, get me da fuck outta dis. You know I don't like say no to
Mike. Pretty scary dude, him, you know? But I ain't ready to die
right now, either. Since I lose my job, life got pretty damn hard.
Gerry's boys, dey always watching me." He shook his shaggy head.
"No good."

"Okay, well, who else?" asked
Ryo. "I haven't been involved in this racket that long. I don't
know all the players yet."

"Hell, me either! Only
Mike know all of players. But I know some of dem." Andre reached
into the voluminous folds of his filthy grey overcoat and fiddled
around until he found a pocket. "Where are you, damn phone! Is
dat you? Nope dis my harmonijka." He held it up and
grinned at Ryo with gappy, discolored teeth. "I bet you never
guess I am musician?" He continued to feel around in his pockets
with his other hand. "Ah! I think DIS my cell phone. Yep. Just a
minute, okay?"

It was quite a production for Andre to get
his phone out of his pocket. The overcoat's pockets must have been
two feet deep, and there were all kinds of other things inside them,
like watches, jewelry, stale sandwiches, and even cutlery from
restaurants. Ryo unconsciously glanced at his left wrist to make sure
his own watch was still there. Dammit. It was twenty to two. They
weren't going to make it back in time to talk to the DA. But then, he
and Dee didn't have any new evidence, either. Hopefully they would
get what they needed from one of the new contacts Andre was about to
put them in touch with.

"You in hurry?" Andre asked,
yanking open his phone.

"Yeah," confirmed Ryo. "I
don't have much time."

"Okay, listen, I got my
phone, but you gotta hang on while I find dose names. Oh-kay, here we
go. No...not him, not him, not him neither, no..uh-uh.. nope, not him
too...Yep! Got one guy. Ready?"

Ryo nodded, and prepared
to write in his notebook.

"Brian Webster,
212-858--"

"Brian Webster?" Ryo interrupted. He
knew that name. He and Dee had taken Bikky to visit a Brian Webster
last month. "Isn't he in jail right now?"

"Not
anymore. Got out two days ago. Early for good behavior, something
like dat. Guy need money, I hear."

"Really, he's
out? Okay, give me the rest of the number." Ryo scribbled it
down and added, "Better give me a couple more names. Brian may
not wanna play ball so soon out of prison."

"Okay,
next guy's name... John Hambler. You know him?"

Ryo shook
his head.

"He go by 'Jackhammer' for his street name.
Real crazy dude. But not good-crazy, like me. Bad-crazy. You
know?"

"Does Mike trust him?"

"I
dunno. As much as he trust you or me, I guess!" Andre rattled
off Jackhammer's number, and then said, "Hmm... Maybe Jimmy,
too. Oh shit, no I forget-- he get whacked last week. Over drugs,
surprise, surprise! Like I said, dey make a guy dead, one way or
other." He gave Ryo a hard look from under his bushy white
brows. "You be careful, boy. You don't wanna get killed. Not for
drugs, not for Mike." He paused, then laughed nervously. "But
don't tell him I said dat last part, okay?"

"Don't
worry, I never talk about death around Mike!" Ryo tried not to
smile. It was hard not to like Andre.

"Okay, I got one
more name for you, but first you gotta give ME a name." Andre
paused significantly and waited with eyebrows raised. There was a
faint, almost indiscernible touch of dignity in his bearing, which
hinted at the man he may once have been. At this point in his life,
however, he looked liked Santa Claus after six months on the streets,
assuming Santa had lost both his memory and his red suit somewhere
along the way. Not to mention about a hundred pounds.

"My
name, right?" Ryo really did smile this time. "I'm Randy,
Andre." He offered his hand and the old man shook it. "Nice
to meet you."

"Likewise, Randy. You ready for da
last name I got for you? Ja Romeo, pretty stupid name for a pimp--
what, you know him?"

"Uh... yeah," said Ryo
blinking in surprise. "Maybe. I know that's a pretty common
street name, though. Do you know his real name?"

"Nah,
only Ja Romeo. But dis guy, he do music, like me. Only good thing
about him."

"Sounds like the same guy. I've been
trying to track him down, but no luck so far. I heard he hangs out in
the East Village. You got his number?" Ja Romeo was the name
Essien Ibo, the injured leader of the Stone Blood Boys had whispered
from his hospital bed. He had hinted that the man worked in a music
shop. Ja Romeo was also the street name of one Ricardo Romero, former
pimp of the late Tamara Stanley. It hadn't occurred to Ryo until this
moment that there was a possibility that they might be one and the
same person.

Ryo wrote down the number Andre gave him, and
then said, "What do you know about this guy?"

"Not
too much. He got some gang connection. He make money three... four
different way. He got a whore to pay da rent. He like cocaine. Young
guy, black, hothead. Dey say he kill a guy not too long ago."

Ryo
tried to question Andre further, but the old man held up both hands.
"Look, all I know, I already tell you. You go talk to dese guys.
Get me off hook, okay? I ain't right guy for drug job, you know?"
He shook his head. "You gotta make Mike see dat."

Ryo's
words of assent were snatched away by an incoming train, but he
thought Andre understood anyway by the way his head was nodding. They
shook hands one more time, and Ryo rose to leave just as a crowd of
people spilled out of the train and began rushing along the platform.
He moved quickly toward Dee, who immediately folded his newspaper,
tucked it under his arm and walked ahead of him up the steps,
threading his way among the people all around them. They continued in
this way for another block, Dee about twenty feet ahead of Ryo until
Dee ducked into a sandwich bar and Ryo followed him.

It was a
cafeteria-style restaurant, which meant the customers had to line up
to order and pay for their meal at one counter, then pick up the
assembled sandwich at another one. Ryo caught up to Dee in the line
and said, "Go find us a nice secluded table. Lunch is on
me."

"Fuckin' A. Get me the Hellfire Meatball sub,
okay? And something cold with caffeine in it."

Ryo nodded
and turned his attention to the menu board posted on the wall behind
the counter.

When he finally carried his tray to the booth Dee
had found tucked away in the back of the long, narrow restaurant,
both he and his partner were practically vibrating with
excitement.

Dee grabbed the paper cup full of Pepsi off the
tray and sucked a long draft of it through his straw. "Okay,
dude, spill," he said. "I couldn't catch everything, but
what I heard sounded good."

"This guy's name is
Andre," said Ryo. "He's a petty thief and a booster. He
claims to be currently unemployed." He took a small travel sized
container of antibacterial gel out of his pocket and squeezed some
onto his hands before rubbing them together.

Dee eyed this
little procedure with a straight face. Over the years, he had simply
run out of ways to tease Ryo about certain of his idiosyncratic
behaviors. "Is our new buddy Andre a junkie?"

"Nope,
at least I don't think so. I didn't get that kind of energy from him.
No smell of booze, either. Plus, the guy's scared out of his mind of
any kind of involvement in the drug trade."

"So he
doesn't run drugs for Abernathy?"

"No. I suggested
Mike wanted him to start doing that and he freaked out." Ryo
twisted the top off his bottle of sparkling green tea and took a
couple of quick sips. "I'm pretty sure he just steals for Mike
and pays him a set amount a week in exchange for protection, or
whatever the hell it is that the Bad Lieutenant does for these guys
he's using."

"I heard him giving you some names."
Dee unwrapped his sandwich and took a big bite.

"Yeah!
I've got a number for Ja Romeo. Can you believe it?"

"Our
guy?" mumbled Dee around a mouthful of meat and bread. They had
learned in the past few days that 'Ja Romeo' was not the most unique
street name that had ever been invented.

"I'm pretty
sure. Don't talk with your mouth full." Ryo turned his attention
to his own sandwich. It smelled really good, and his stomach growled
in response. Oatmeal with Bikky had been a lifetime ago. He took a
small bite so that he could talk again as soon as possible.

"Dude,"
said Dee, looking speculatively at his sandwich, "this is so not
a Hellfire Meatball sub."

"No, it's not," Ryo
agreed. "Those things don't have any vegetables in them, and I
think they're far too spicy to be good for anyone's digestion. We're
both having the steak bun with sautéed bell peppers and
eggplant."

"There's no such thing as too spicy,"
grumbled Dee, but he took another bite and chewed it appreciatively.
It was pretty tasty. And it hadn't cost him a dime, so what the
hell.

"Look, the last time you ate one of those stupid
things, your nose got all red and I had to try to eat my lunch while
watching sweat pouring down your face and soaking into your collar!
As far as I'm concerned, you can save eating those disgusting subs
for when you're alone, or with Drake or Ted." Ryo took another
bite of his own sandwich.

For a moment Dee looked like
he had more to say, but then his desire to eat won over his desire to
complain, and he applied himself to the rest of his meal. As usual,
he was finished long before Ryo.

"Hey, is that salad for
both of us?" he said, eyeing it with an interest that he hadn't
felt when he still had a hot sandwich to eat.

"Yep,"
said Ryo. "I got two forks. Go for it."

"Show
me the names," Dee said and Ryo put his notebook on the table
between them.

"Holy shit, he gave up Brian?"

"Yeah,
it's got to be the same guy we all went to see with Bikky and Dave at
Brooklyn Correctional. According to Andre, he's out earlier than
expected because of good behavior."

"I didn't know
Brian was involved with Abernathy." Dee frowned. "He said
it was Christopher who got him into trouble last time."

"Well,
we should certainly ask him a few questions when we see him. Do you
know this 'Jackhammer'?"

Dee snorted. "Jerkhammer is
what I call him. I busted him for assault about four years ago. My
first bust as a rookie detective." Sighing nostalgically, he
licked some salad dressing off his fork and grinned at Ryo. "Needless
to say, he hates my guts."

"Okay, I think I'll do
the talking if we can get a meeting with that one."

At
that moment, U2's 'In the Name Of Love' erupted in Dee's left pocket.
Abernathy's cell phone. Their eyes met in a shared flash of alert
curiosity.

"It's Andre," said Dee, checking the call
display. "Maybe he's checking up on you." He pressed the
talk button and said, "Hello, what is it, Andre, me
man?"

"Mike! I still got your money, you know? It
make me nervous, what if something happen? When you gonna come get
it?"

"Soon, man, soon. I've got a few things I have
to deal with first. Did you meet with the fellow I sent?"

"Uh,
yeah. Randy, right? You send him, right?"

"Yes, and
he's a good fellow. We can trust this one. Oh, and Andre? Something
very important."

"Yeah, what?" The old man's
voice was guarded.

"Your phone may be hot, man. You'll
have to take the sim card out. A couple of cops are watching me.
That's why I couldn't come today."

"Coorva,
Mike, pretty bad! But why I gotta dump my phone?"

"They
know the numbers I called. I don't want them to find you. But don't
dump the phone yet, okay? Just take the sim card out right after you
hang up, is that clear? I want that phone you've got. Randy will
bring you a new one tomorrow to exchange for your old one, same time,
same place."

"Uhh... okay, Mike. So tomorrow at 1:30
again?"

"Yeah. Now do what I say, Andre. Don't
delay. Every minute counts. You don't want to get a call from the
police, do you? Hang up now." Dee snapped his phone closed and
smirked at Ryo. "Sorry, dude. You don't mind starting work an
hour and a half early tomorrow, do ya?"

"Good
thinking, Dee. But it would have been helpful if you told me to get
his phone off him before I went ahead and met him today."

"Sorry,
I didn't have that brilliant idea until it was too late. This is what
happens when I start the day without caffeine!" He finished off
his Pepsi and rattled the ice in the cup. "Anyway, when you were
talking to him, I thought about how it would suck if Abernathy got to
Andre before we get a chance to talk to him again, so I wanna make it
harder for Abernathy to get a hold of him. Remember what happened to
Eddie? He ran; we lost him, he got murdered. We're going to provide
Andre with a brand new phone, one with a GPS chip in it so we can
find him again easy."

Ryo froze in horror. "Does
that phone have one of those?" He gestured toward Abernathy's
cell phone.

"Nope, I checked. Come on now, do you think
ol' Mike would ever fit himself out with a phone he could be tracked
on?"

"No, I guess not." Ryo suddenly felt a
little foolish for not thinking of this earlier. "So, I can
understand your not wanting Mike to be able to reach him after our
little performance today, but seriously, who's going to pay for
Andre's new phone?"

"The Rat Bastard has okayed all
kinds of funds for this investigation, so we're gonna expense
it."

"Confident, aren't you? The NYPD doesn't even
buy us decent computers. What makes you think the Commissioner is
going to let us expense a phone for a half-crazy street
contact?"

"Well, I'll get Helen to sneak it in with
a pile of other papers and he won't even notice he's signing off on
it. But just in case he does, it would, um, be better if it was your
name on the expense form, not mine."

"Dee!"

"Don't
look at me like that, dude. You think I've never done this
before?"

"With my name?"

"Well, no.
But I still got away with it."

"You're
incorrigible." Ryo tapped his notebook. "Come on, let's try
our luck with another phone call while we're still in a reasonably
quiet place."

"Who first?"

"Brian.
You call him, but as yourself, not Abernathy. If Brian hasn't started
working for Abernathy yet, maybe he can help us by wearing a wire or
something. Before we call that Jackhammer guy, I want to run his
stats." He got out his own cell phone and opened it up. "Maybe
someone on the squad can give me a quick rundown."

"Good
call."

"Ja Romeo is the most important one,
but since we know next to nothing about him, we need to do our
homework on him, too, before we actually contact him. Incidentally, I
think this is not only the one Ibo meant, I think he's also the same
guy who was Tammy's pimp. He's still pimping, according to
Andre."

"Blow me! You sure this is the same guy
Eddie told you about?"

"Just a sec. Janet? Hi, it's
Randy. Can you put me through to the CI room? Allison, if she's
there." After a moment, Allison answered and Ryo asked her to
run background checks on John Hambler and Rick Romero. "Call me
back on my cell," Ryo said, rattling it off. After he had
thanked her and hung up, he turned his attention back to Dee.

"I
don't know for sure if this Ja Romeo is the same guy Eddie and Ibo
were talking about. But they seem to have two things in common:
pimping and music."

"Hmm. Not only does Ibo name him
as a crony of Mike's, but now it's looking like Ja Romeo can maybe
link Mike to Tammy's murder."

Ryo nodded. "So, if
this were a perfect world, we'd track him down, catch him in the
middle of an illegal act, take him back to the station and offer him
leniency in exchange for giving up Mike. He would then willingly give
us all kinds of useful information and agree to testify..." Ryo
hesitated, correctly reading the expression on Dee's face. "I
know, I know. Just let me enjoy my fantasy for a moment, all
right?"

"Well, what the hell. Why not? Besides, you
might be right about the first part. If he's pimping out another girl
or two, plus doin' odd jobs for Abernathy, we probably got a
fifty-fifty chance of catching him with his finger in the wrong kind
of pie."

Ryo smiled at Dee, but it wasn't a sweet smile,
Dee noted. It was his hard smile, his 'Let's fuck over the bad guys'
smile. Despite the fact that he regularly teased his partner about
being an airhead, he knew that Ryo was a one hundred percent
committed and capable cop, and for the ninety-ninth time, he felt
lucky to have this man as his partner. The partnership had been a
success practically from day one. They had a sympatico that really
worked, and together they had brought down and put away a lot of
criminal scum from the heights to the depths of the food chain. Mike
Abernathy was just one more. They'd get him at some point-- it was
all about time and effort, plus a certain amount of luck. Dee grinned
back at Ryo, and a feeling swelled between them, a companionable
sense of running on the hunt together.

"Wanna listen
while I talk to Brian?"

"No, I'm sure you can handle
that by yourself. While you're calling him, I'll check in with the
Chief," said Ryo. "We didn't get our chance with the DA
today, but maybe we will in a couple of days, if we can get one of
these contacts to say he thinks Mike keeps drugs at his home."

&^&^&^&^&^&^&^&^&^&

"Ja
Romeo?" the mohawked young woman behind the counter echoed.
"Jeez, that's only like the 'John Smith' of street names."
Her considerable black-clad bosom heaved in an exaggerated sigh, no
doubt at the way her time was being unconditionally wasted. "Yeah,
sure I know him! I got about nine regulars with that name."

"And
how many of them are musicians?" Ryo asked politely.

"All
of them! No-talent wannabes."

"How many of them are
pimps?" Dee wasn't bothering to turn on the charm. He had pegged
her for a dyke the minute they had walked in the door.

"How
the hell would I know? That's not exactly a subject I wanna bring up
with my customers."

"Okay, how many do you suspect
are pimps?"

"About half." Her eyes narrowed as
she looked at a point behind them. "Hey, asshole! How many times
do I have to tell you? No food and drink in here. Get outside with
that damn slurpee. You're getting wet blue shit on the CD's!"

The
guy she was yelling at flipped her the bird as he slouched out the
door, his lips firmly fastened to the straw of his drink.

"How
many are young?" Ryo asked.

"Most of 'em. Look,
can't you guys come back with a photo or something? That would help a
lot." She gave them a pointed look. "As in, it would save
time. Mine and yours."

"All right, miss."
Ryo handed her his card, which she accepted with a monumental lack of
interest. "Thank you for your time. Call us if any of the Ja
Romeos come in." The corner of his mouth quirked in a smile.

She didn't smile back. "You bet," she said in a
bored tone, which Dee took exception to. Translation: Why the hell
would I bring a bunch of cops charging into my store to scare away
paying customers? Dream on, losers.

"Make sure you do,
toots, or you're gonna be seeing a lot more of us."

"I
SAID I would," she snapped. "What more do you
want?"

"She's right, you know," Ryo said to Dee
when they got outside. "A mug shot or two would speed things up
considerably. I can't believe he doesn't have a record." He was
glad to be out of that stuffy, musty little shop. The sunlight was
beating down on them, but there was a gentle breeze blowing down this
East Village street that lifted his hair and soothed the back of his
neck.

Allison had run the name Rick Romero for them back at
the station, but it came back clean. There was no mention of him even
in the sealed juvenile records. Although it was impossible to
believe, it appeared that Mr. Romero had been a very good boy all his
life.

"He must be lucky," Dee remarked. "Or
fast on his feet."

"Or good at pointing a finger at
others," Ryo added, hopefully. "If that's the case, he'll
maybe help us bring Mike down to save himself."

"When
we finally catch him with his hand in the cookie jar." Dee
scowled. "Maybe I should just call him and pretend to be
Mike."

Ryo shook his head. "I'd advise against it.
I've got a feeling Mike knows his phone is gone. If so, he's probably
warned Rick. It could be we just got lucky with Andre."

Dee
got out Mike's phone and flipped it open. "It's worth a try,
Ryo. We don't even know what this dude Rick looks like. We coulda
walked right past him three times today. If we can sucker him into
showing up for a meeting, we can at least get a look at him, maybe
snap a few shots."

As Ryo looked thoughtfully from the
phone to Dee's face, the phone started vibrating in his hand and then
the U2 song started up again.

"Who is it?" he asked
quickly.

"Mike's home number," said Dee.

"Don't answer!"

"But I'd kinda like to
torture him."

"No, don't do it. I mean it!"

"Oh
all right. I hope he's leaving a message for us. He must have noticed
by now that his passcode has been changed."

"I'm
surprised it took him this long, if so." Ryo gazed uneasily at
his partner. "Dee, if Abernathy and his lawyer ever find out
that you stole his cell phone from his apartment...well, that's just
the kind of slip-up the Chief was trying to warn us about."

"Come
on, bro, 'stole' is kind of a harsh word," complained Dee in
tones of affront. "And don't forget I 'found' it outside in the
street, not in anybody's apartment. And of COURSE I would have
returned it right away if he'd ever bothered to register it in his
own name. But since he uses, correction, used, this phone
exclusively for chatting with gang guys, thieves and drug dealers, he
sure didn't want his own name anywhere near it."

"We
have to be careful. He may claim the phone was NYPD property, and
that he used it for undercover work or something."

"Yeah,
well if he asks nicely, I'll be sure to FedEx it right to his
doorstep. But if he's smart, he'll disavow all knowledge of this
phone." He grinned at Ryo. "Think he's had enough time to
leave a message?"

"Yes, I'd say so. Let's find out
how smart he is."

Mike had left a message, all
right.

"This is a message for the walking dead man who is
currently usin' my phone. When I find you, I will gouge your eyeballs
out with a grapefruit spoon and grind them under the heel of my shoe.
You'll just drop that phone off at the lost and found department of
Macy's if you know what's good for you."

"What the
hell is a grapefruit spoon?" Dee asked Ryo, perplexed.

"It's
a spoon that's partially serrated, you know with little teeth on one
side," Ryo informed him.

"Oh," said Dee and
looked at the phone with his eyebrows raised. "That's a good
one. You can always trust the psychos to think up the most colorful
threats."

Ryo stared at the phone, too. "I can't
believe he left a message identifying this phone as his," he
said. "It's always so hard to know what's going through that
guy's mind." He frowned, his expression puzzled. "Sometimes
he takes risks and just flings info at us. Other times he's careful
and crafty."

"I think the bastard enjoys playing
games."

"If this phone number isn't registered
somewhere in IA's files, we may be able to use his message in court
later." Ryo glanced up at Dee. "IF we're gonna own up to
having the phone, that is. It's pretty clear at this point that he
hasn't figured out exactly who's got it."

Dee shrugged.
"I guess it's decision time, ain't it? Once he knows we have it,
he's gonna claim I stole it-- which I will naturally deny, especially
since he and Siobhan won't be able to produce any witnesses to back
that up. But if he never finds out for sure that we have it, we can
play with it for a while and then toss it under a train."

"Hmm.
Let's think this through. He may later claim you impersonated him in
order to ruin his credibility with his street contacts and manipulate
them into incriminating him with hearsay or something."

"Me?
Impersonate him?" Dee grinned and shook a cigarette out of its
pack. "Impossible! I'd have to shed at least eighty percent of
my natural hotness to do that, not to mention about a foot in
height." He tried to light the end of his cigarette, but the
breeze, which had turned aggressive, wouldn't cooperate. Dee felt a
little rush of pleasure when Ryo's hand came up to cup helpfully
around the lighter. It looked like Ryo had forgotten all about how
late for work they'd been today, and whose fault that was.

"Besides," Dee added, blowing out smoke. "Did
I at any time identify myself as Lieutenant Mike Abernathy? No I most
certainly did not. I can't help it if people assume things and then
tell me stuff."

"It would help the evidence trail
we're building if we're able to admit we have the phone," said
Ryo slowly. "And we didn't technically know who it belonged to
until just now." He frowned. "But now that we know, we kind
of have to give it back, don't we?"

"The hell we do.
We're busy. We're working. It's not our problem if some putz who
sicced his lawyer on us this morning can't keep track of his own
phone. We'll think about giving it back to him when our shift is
over. If we're not too tired that is." Dee snickered to
himself with such evident and wicked delight, that Ryo couldn't help
joining in.

"And in the meantime," added Dee, "we're
gonna be nice, and take all his messages for him, 'cause that's just
the kind of upstanding and helpful LEO's we are!"

&^&^&^&^&^&^&%^&^&

"Ja
Romeo? Little Ricky Romero?" the grey-haired woman in the
too-tight orange dress said. "Haven't seen him in a couple days.
But he and his dawg are doin' a concert on Thursday night at
Teddy's."

"Teddy's is still open?" Dee looked
at her, surprised. "I thought that place got shut down last
year."

"Well, it did, hot stuff!" exclaimed the
woman. "But they got some kind of certificate saying the rats
were all gone, and then they opened right back up again. Under 'new
management'." She made quotation marks in the air with her
fingers. "At least until a developer comes along with the right
amount of money and a plan to put up another trendy little bistro in
place of the last dive bar from the old neighborhood.You know how
those things work. Couldn't do nothin' about the human rats, though."
She grinned and winked at him. "They were all still there, last
I checked."

"Sounds like the same thing that
happened with Blue Planet, that club on--"

"Uh,
thanks for the comprehensive history," said Ryo politely to the
woman, while shooting a quick frown at Dee. "The concert is
Thursday night, you say? Do you know what time?"

"'Fraid
not, sugarboy. You ought to go ask 'em about it. Same way you're
goin', two blocks further on. Watch out for the clientele, though.
You're a little pretty for these parts after dark." She swept
her eyes over Ryo in such a way as to convey both appreciation for
his physical attributes as well as doubt about whether he would be
able to handle the aforementioned clientele of Teddy's.

He
felt irritated, first with her, and then with himself as he felt the
familiar heat of embarrassment on his cheeks. He hated it when anyone
referred to him as 'pretty'. "Thank you," he said stiffly,
"but I'm sure I'll be fine. East Village is not exactly the
Bronx."

She cackled uproariously at the look on his face
before shaking her head and sauntering off in the opposite direction,
leaving them wondering if the East Village had suddenly become a
disputed territory in this time of upheaval amongst the gangs.

They
proceeded to Teddy's, a poorly populated dive bar with shabby
furnishings and a deeply ingrained stench of spilled booze, old
cigarette smoke, and despair. There was an unpainted plywood stage
with a couple of microphones on it at one end of the room, situated
as far as possible from the single pool table the place
possessed.

Further inquiries brought them the news that Ja
Romeo was half of a duo called Steelshot. A sullen bartender produced
a poor quality photocopied poster depicting two young black men
standing back to back with their arms folded and 'fuck you'
expressions on their faces. Dee dismissed it as beyond lame and
turned away to begin a wistful study of the rows of liquor bottles on
the wall behind the bar.

Ryo squinted at the poster and held
it at arm's length from his face so that he could read it without
having to don his reading glasses. "It says they're on at seven
pm," he said to Dee.

"Uh-huh. But not til Thursday,
according to that grandma cougar."

This comment
produced a snicker from the bartender, who might have guessed whom
Dee was talking about.

"Thank you very much," Ryo
said to the man and returned the poster. "Come on Dee, quit
looking at the whiskey. We need to get back to the station to update
our files before our break."

"Okay, whatever. And I
was not looking at the whiskey. Hey, don't you wanna get a copy of
the poster? It's like the only picture we're likely to get of Rick
until we actually find the dude."

"You're right."
Ryo turned back to the bartender and asked if there was a photocopier
in the building. He ended up being sent to a small office to one side
of the bar where a chain-smoking, bespectacled harridan manned an
incredibly untidy desk. Ryo briefly considered citing her for
breaking the anti-smoking bylaw, but gave it up in favor of just
getting a copy and getting out. He had had more than enough of
dealing with unhelpful and/or hostile people for one day. It seemed
like no one ever wanted to help or even talk to the police, but if
there was trouble, everyone expected the police to just drop whatever
they were doing and provide assistance on demand at any hour of the
day or night.

Meanwhile, Dee asked for a glass of water, and
was just raising it to his lips, when a voice greeted him cheerfully
by name from the open room behind him.

"Dee Laytner! Is
it really you?" The smoky, masculine voice sounded delighted,
rather than pissed, which was what made Dee turn around with a ready
grin.

Before him stood a stocky, handsome, light skinned
black guy Dee recognized from his patrol days about five years back.
Octavio Rojas, a male prostitute. "Tavio, hombre, is that you?"
He looked him up and down, taking in the loud silk shirt open to the
waist, tight but artfully shredded jeans, boots that were a little
too high in the heels. "Still in the business?"

"My
answer to that depends on whether you are here to arrest me,"
Octavio said carefully, joining Dee at the bar.

"Nah,
ain't got the energy today. Been walking for hours looking for some
dude nobody heard of until now." Dee swigged down half his
water.

"I am sorry to hear that, but of course I am happy
that you do not think to ruin my evening by busting me. May I buy you
a drink?"

"Jesus, I wish! But I'm still in the
middle of my shift, so you go ahead. What the hell are you doing in
this neighborhood anyway? Didn't you use to work a little closer to
7th Avenue?"

Octavio sighed and signaled to the bartender
who poured him a measure of Jack Daniels. "My friend, I have
worked all over the five boroughs for longer than I care to admit.
But business has never been worse. There are very few places left for
an independent like me. My old territories are now taken over by men
who are nothing more than musclebound slave-masters, pimping out soft
and pretty boys." He sighed and picked up his drink, swirling
the amber liquid in the light reflected by the mirror at the end of
the bar. "It seems like the boys, they get younger every
year."

"You were on the street that young, Tavvy.
You told me you started in your country when you were in your
teens."

"True, but I was never a boy." Octavio
raised his head proudly, and his eyes briefly narrowed at Dee. "I
was always a man, even when I was sixteen."

"I
know there's still a big market for your kind of services," Dee
said. "Why don't you join an escort agency? Wouldn't it be
safer?" Despite his NYPD-mandated responsibility to arrest
prostitutes, Dee had always had a soft spot for them, having grown up
on the same streets where such women--and the occasional man or boy--
were a nightly fixture.

Octavio shrugged. "Marginally so.
But the loss of independence... I don't think I am ready."

"Well,
I hope you're at least thinking about it. Or at least servicing a
clientele indoors. The streets are more dangerous than they used to
be. Too many gangs now. Too many bullets flying."

"Ah,
but my steady clientele-- they got older, they got scared, they got
married. It is not like before. So I work in places like this."
He glanced quickly at Dee and shrugged as if trying to justify it.
"Just now and then."

Dee eyed him skeptically. "If
you say so."

Octavio gestured contemptuously to a pair of
aging queens at a booth near the stage. "Look at them, my
friend. Viejos verdes. This is what I am reduced to these
days."

One of the men waved tentatively, having taken
Octavio's gesture for a greeting. He hesitated and then gave them a
curt nod in response.

"What, is Teddy's a gay bar now?"
said Dee looking around in surprise.

"Only in the early
evening. A rowdier crowd comes in after ten, ten-thirty. For the
music." Octavio's mood seemed to be rapidly turning
morose.

"Oh, well, it's your life, buddy. Any women come
here? Ones that aren't dykes, I mean."

Octavio sighed
bitterly. "The women customers, they are not as many, but they
are almost as bad as the men." His hand tightened on his glass
for a moment before he tossed the remaining mouthful of whiskey back.
"I take out my anger on them sometimes, but they still come back
for more, the filthy bitches!"

"Hmm, sounds like
it's maybe time to think about getting out of this line of work."
Where the hell was Ryo? Dee was hoping to be rescued from this
depressing conversation.

"Perhaps you are right. I
cannot believe I have descended to buggaroneria, just to
keep working."

"'Boogaro'-what?"

"Fucking
faggot ass," Octavio stated flatly.

"Oh. Well, next
time just say so. Had any trouble here?" Dee indicated the
bar.

Octavio shook his head. "Not recently, my friend.
Only...Three, maybe four times, one man... Well, he worries me a
little bit. Filthy hijo de puta! He wants me to pull down my
pants for him. Me, bend over? Ha! I explained to him more than once
that I am an activo, a man who fucks. I will not be used
like a woman, not for any price. He tried to give me $500 but I would
not stoop so low to take dick in my ass!" He dropped his voice
to an angry hiss, looking around quickly to see if anyone was
listening. "Maricons, those faggots, they have become
like women. Their manhood is gone forever. Finished!" He drew
himself up. "But I--"

"Now, come on
Tavvy, you know that ain't true."

"In my culture, it
is. Your culture, too, whether you admit it or not." He tapped
two fingertips hard on the perma-stained surface of the bar between
them. "It's true. You know this, Detective Dee. Now give me a
cigarette and let us talk of women." Octavio flashed a white
grin at him. He looked much more attractive when he was smiling, as
opposed to bitching.

Just then, a harsh female voice sounded
on a speaker hidden somewhere nearby. "Tell him to stop wasting
time on the cop and go talk to the customers!"

The sullen
bartender came to life and glowered at Octavio. "You heard her,"
he growled, gesturing to the only occupied booth. "Go get those
two queers to spend more money on drinks."

Octavio
flushed angrily and his smile disappeared. "Duty calls, as you
can see," he said acerbically to Dee. "It was nice to see
you again. I hope that life is treating you well, my friend." He
shook hands briefly with Dee, then strolled over to where his two
elderly admirers awaited him.

Dee shrugged, and watched him
go. He knew he couldn't change Octavio's disparaging attitude toward
gay sex. First of all, not only was the guy a sex trade worker, but
he also hailed from the Dominican Republic, a very macho culture. His
sexual experiences with men had likely all been transactions, acts he
performed for money and for no other reason. But all that shit about
guys who took the catcher role being inferior to pitchers, well, that
was just plain homophobic. Dee was glad that Ryo hadn't heard any of
that, or his partner would probably have been upset. He looked over
at the door Ryo had disappeared into. How long did it take to make
one photocopy, anyhow? If he wasn't out in one more minute, Dee was
going to walk in there and drag him out. It was close to seven pm,
and Dee's stomach had just emitted its first tentative growl. And of
course they still had meetings with Brian and Jerkhammer,
respectively, before their shift ended at eleven.

Meanwhile,
in the office, Ryo was staring, red-faced, at what looked like a baby
monitor on the harridan's desk. She obviously kept it there to keep
tabs on what was going on at the bar. Talk about low budget. The old
woman had had half her attention on the conversation between Dee and
that other fellow the whole time she had been fighting with the
ancient fax machine to make a copy of the Steelshot poster for
Ryo.

"That ungrateful asshole," she muttered to Ryo.
"He gets all his drinks free, but he don't wanna work. Well, I
don't give a shit about what my clientele does in their bedrooms at
home, as long as they spend money while they're here in my bar. A
paying customer is a paying customer. We all have to work in this
shitty world, even that shithead Octavio!"

At that point
she had leaned in close to the monitor and yelled for the bartender
to send Octavio off to hustle the customers into blowing more money
on drinks. Then she turned her bad-tempered glare on Ryo. "Copies
ain't free, either," she snapped. "That'll be a
dollar."

He sighed and paid it, noting with satisfaction
the sudden flicker of dismay in her eyes. She was clearly regretting
she hadn't asked for more. He snatched the copy out of her hand
before she could change her mind and abruptly walked out of the
office and back into the bar to collect Dee. He could feel a headache
starting and the sooner he could get out of this stifling and awful
place, the better he would feel.

"Come on, let's go,"
he snapped, ignoring his partner's smile of greeting and walking
right past him toward the door to the outside world. He felt pissed
off with all the men on the planet, and Dee was definitely not
exempt. He wished he hadn't overheard Octavio's derisive views on the
diminished masculinity of men who, to paraphrase him, 'stooped so low
as to take dick in their asses.' And Dee, his partner, his lover
for God's sake, just sitting there, nodding and not saying a word!
But then why would he? Not that they had ever discussed it, but Ryo
had it on reliable authority that Dee was allegedly not too keen on
the idea of getting a dick up his ass, either. In fact, he
was probably sympathizing with poor Octavio's dreadful plight! Ryo
wanted to strangle the pair of them.

"Are we gonna get
dinner?" Dee asked him.

Ryo gritted his teeth. Typical!
After all that, Dee's mind was back on food. He banged the door of
the bar open with considerable violence and strode into the street
without answering or even so much as looking at Dee.

His
expression grim, Ryo walked swiftly down St. Mark's Place,
remembering the time he had accidentally found out some illuminating
details about Dee's former sex life. A couple of months back, before
he had finally told Dee he loved him, he and Dee had been working on
a case involving a pair of teenage brothers who were in some serious
trouble. At that time, Ryo had interviewed Diane Demora, a woman who
worked at a non-profit homeless shelter for youth. It turned out that
she and Dee had grown up in the same neighborhood and attended the
same high school, and had even dated for a couple of weeks. She was
more than happy to reminisce about the old days.

In his mind's
eye, he could still see her tiny little office, piled high with boxes
of donated clothing and household goods. She had made him Rooiboos
tea and had opened a packet of cookies. She had a loud voice and a
ready laugh, and remembered Dee with affection, as well as feelings
of awe at the various audacious things he had done. Ryo was always
fascinated to learn about the exploits of Dee as a child and
teenager, and although Mother Maria had already told him some good
stories, Diane had a completely new fund of information. She regaled
him with a few escapades Dee would never have let Mother find out
about. The story that was standing out in his memory today was how
Dee had broken the news to his friends that he was bisexual.
Apparently, he had shown up for an eleventh-grade school dance with
not one, but two dates, one on either arm. One was a girl, of course,
but the other one was a boy. According to Diane, Dee led his dates up
to his friends and introduced them. Then he said, 'I got something to
tell you guys', but instead of speaking, he French-kissed first the
girl and then the boy, and then winked at his stunned buddies before
sauntering off, an arm around each date.

"He blew us
away!" exclaimed Diane. "So cocksure, so confident. He
really didn't give a shit what anyone thought." She and Barry
and Tommy had been quite surprised, though, especially considering
what had happened to Arnon. "You know about Arnon, right?"
she asked. Ryo confirmed that Dee had in fact told him about Arnon
and Jess, but he didn't see the connection to Dee's
bisexuality.

Diane explained that because of the various ways
in which Arnon had been exploited by certain members of Bruno's gang,
Dee thereafter equated any kind of sexual passivity with 'being
used'. But when his group of friends quizzed him about the details,
he had aggressively insisted that in bed, he was the one who called
the shots. "I dish it out, but I don't take it," was the
way he put it.

She had gone on to tell Ryo that in her
opinion, it was possible Dee might have mellowed with age. "Dee's
crazy about you, honey," she said knowingly. "I've known
him for half my life and I've never seen him act like this about
anyone. If he was ever going to change his 'take charge' ways, it
would be for you, you know what I mean?" To Ryo's horror, she
had actually winked at him and then added, "If you ask him
nicely!"

Ryo had been so embarrassed and was relieved
when she changed the subject.However, he was very glad to have gotten
this information from her, because he was, at that time,
contemplating starting a relationship with Dee and he realized that
he didn't really know what to expect, sexually. The conversation with
Diane had clarified for him that if he got involved with Dee, he
could pretty much bank on being the guy on the bottom. After all, if
Dee had feelings of lingering trauma and discomfort about the sexual
abuse and murder of his boyhood friend, then Ryo certainly wasn't
going to be the one to demand that he get over it just like that.

But recently, he couldn't help wondering if Dee would ever
consider taking a passive role in bed for a change. With him. But
since Dee hadn't brought it up, and Lord knew Ryo wasn't ever going
to bring it up, it would have to remain a mystery.

It would
have been nice if Dee had told Octavio to shut his mouth, however. He
wished Dee had more firmly demonstrated respect for the guy on the
bottom. But he hadn't.

"Hey Ryo, let me see the copy."
Dee's voice came from just behind him. Ryo, who had no intention of
slowing down for him, just kept on moving.

"Okay, fine.
Don't show it to me, then. Jeez, what the hell crawled up your
ass?" Dee grumbled resentfully.

Ryo gritted his teeth and
rapidly rejected several hurtful answers that leapt to his lips one
after the other before he finally settled on one that he thought
would do the least amount of damage.

"Dee," he said
impatiently, "I have a lot on my mind right now. Would you mind
not talking to me until we get back to the station?"

Dee
was silent for a moment and Ryo wondered if perhaps his feelings were
hurt. At this point, he didn't much care. He almost hoped Dee would
snap back at him so they could have a fight. But as usual, Dee
managed to control himself. Deep deep down, Ryo did appreciate that.
It hadn't escaped his notice that Dee never bothered to hold back
around anyone else.

"Fine," was all Dee said in
response, sounding slightly subdued. "Just let me know when it's
okay to talk again, all right?" He put his sunglasses on, which
was his own form of retreat.

Many shops were still open, and
as it was the dinner hour, the street was full of groups of animated
friends and hand-holding lovers on their way out for a bite to eat
and a little entertainment. The vibrant energy of the neighborhood
flowed toward Dee and Ryo, but passed them by, unable to pierce the
shroud of disappointed silence each man had wrapped himself in.

end
of Justice chapter 4
- 3
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- 5
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FAKE First Year Together: Justice (June)