Date: Mon, 12 Apr 2021 14:50:29 -0400
From: Rick Heathen <rick.heathen@gmail.com>
Subject: Millstone and Roch, Chapter 14

Millstone & Roche, Chapter Fourteen

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All Rights Reserved © 2020, Rick Haydn Horst Formerly known as Rick
Heathen

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events,
locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination
or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living
or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Thank you for delving into this work; I hope you enjoy it.

Hanging the Chimney Hook: a Millstone & Roche Investigation, By Rick Haydn
Horst

Chapter Fourteen


[Gossip Column:

UPDATE, Franklin's Studly Detective: As promised, I bring more savory
morsels of our sinewy stallion. I had it on good authority that within our
fair city lived a man with such an extreme extremity that if his burden
were more ponderous, one naked jog could self-inflict a kneecapping. Such
cock-and-bull stories have floated about for ages, but having had the
privilege of a firsthand witness, not only has the appendage in question
received an accurate appraisal, buk also, he gives a whitewash so thorough,
he could singlehandedly ice an entire kake. Look for more in future
editions as information becomes available.]


"I see what that shameless reporter did there." After slapping the folded
newspaper onto the dining table, I snatched the spoon from the place
setting before me and finished eating the last few bites of breakfast.

Max and I had awakened by 5 o'clock, exercised, showered, and Albert jumped
on our invitation to join us for breakfast that morning. He brought the
paper with him, and after giving the pertinent section a once-over, I admit
that it bothered me, but I hadn't felt angry about it.

Max had suggested we start having a naked breakfast after our shower to
allow our skin some air. Naturally, I went along with it because it made
good sense, but for Max, he needed little excuse to remove his clothing. He
sat across from me, and our legs intertwined a bit beneath the table, while
my equally naked cousin Albert took the end seat.

I tapped the paper in irritation. "He goes too far in his claims. I mean,
am I really a one-man supplier of an entire bukkake?"

Max paused mid-chew. "My stomach says yes."

"You have two loads in there, and I note you still have plenty of room for
our standard breakfast."

"You know that I delight in gorging on you." He took a sip of coffee.

Albert said, "I would love to have seen you bukkake the Naked Reporter."

"I'm not even sure why he let him have it."--I turned to my Golden
Bear--"You're not usually one to share."

"It's true," said Max, who turned to Albert, "I failed sharing in
kindergarten. But, after what he did, he deserved the embarrassment of
walking back to his car looking like he'd fellated a Clydesdale. We will
never again combine interviews with blowjobs. I couldn't imagine why you
told him all that."

"That's never happened before, but I told you, I think better if I've cum a
few times, and I only came that once at the furniture store."

"He will probably use everything you told him in the paper," said Albert.

Max laughed. "Oh no, he won't."

"How do you know?"

"He won't tell you," I said. "That's the only answer I get out of him too."

"I told you that you needed me," said Max. "I took care of it; that's all
that matters. On another note, where has Edgerton been hiding?"

"He went missing yesterday evening," said Albert, "and I suspect he's with
James."

"James can't go home," I said, "especially after the article this morning."

The piece in question, a not too disappointing boxed article at the back of
the paper, stated that the police had released James without charge. How he
wanted to put the whole unfortunate mess behind him, and that he missed
Tommy, wishing he could join him at the upcoming housewarming on Saturday
evening. Accompanying the article was a color photo of James, propping his
head on the counter at the tailor's, his pinky adorned with the ring in
clear view. It looked good enough on the print version, but the ring in the
online photo stood out crystal clear.

Albert checked his phone for the time. "Woah, it's 7:30; I better get
dressed and go." He took the last sip of his coffee and stood from the
table. "Thank you for breakfast. I'll have to return the favor and show you
what I typically have."

"Sounds great," I said as Albert headed to the door.

"Bye, Al."

The private number on my phone rang. "It's Edgerton." I put it on
speaker. "Good morning, detective."

"Yes, it is a good morning, isn't it?"

"You sound chipper," said Max.

"I might be," he said, and I could almost hear the smile on his face. "I
have a favor to ask of you, and it's important."

"Sure, what is it?"

"With no leads on the Haines/Chadwell case, potentially until Saturday, I
have other cases to work, so I have much to do the next couple of days. The
trouble is, James can't go home or to work, and he needs someplace to be,
with people he trusts who can help protect him. The inspector wouldn't
allow me to assign any officers to him, and there's no way he would agree
to a safe house."

"Okay," I said. "I understand what you're asking, but we have a few things
to do today, and we have only our two-seater."

"I'm more than willing to swap keys with you for the next couple of days,"
he said.

Max began to clear the table of dishes.

"That's acceptable," I said, "but keep in mind the roadster is Winter's, so
if anything happens to it, we're responsible."

"To work and home," he said, "that's a promise."

"Okay, I believe you. Where should we meet?"

A knock came upon our front door. "We're in the hallway."

Max and I both laughed and shook our heads while I answered the door.

"Good morning," said Edgerton.

The detective wore a suit, as he often did. James wore the jeans he had on
the previous day and a different long-tailed button-up shirt.

It seemed that we both tended to shop at the big & tall section, and we
both felt the need to use a shirttail to cover our bulge. I couldn't see
myself the way others saw me, but viewing James, I realized how slouchy
that appeared. I mostly covered myself when I wore jeans; I liked the ones
of lighter color most, even though dark colors would hide it better.

"Wow," said James, over our lack of clothing, "is it Bare as You Dare Day
already?"

"Does Franklin have a Bare as You Dare Day?" asked Max. "What day is it?"

"That's a Franklin Funday that occurs on the second Saturday of July," said
Edgerton, "so next week on the 13th."

"Personally, I've never participated," said James.

"Sounds like a Funday to me," said Max.

"Let me get you that key, detective."

Edgerton gripped James's shoulders. "Okay, young man, you're spending the
day with the sitters."--James indulged the detective in his little jest,
laughing to himself--"Be a good boy, don't get yourself into trouble, and
eat your vegetables at lunchtime."

"Right, Pops." And gave him a quick kiss on the mouth.

Edgerton pointed to Max and me. "You guys didn't see that."--I swapped keys
with him--"Thanks, and I'll be careful. See ya later, fellas."

The instant I closed the door, James said, "Well, the `rent's gone, let's
have some fun!"

"We have an appointment on the twelfth floor of the Lancashire Building in
an hour," said Max, "so we haven't even the time for a quick round of
Pinochle."

"Well, I would suggest strip poker," he said, "but you've nothing to bet
with. I hoped we could play, if you know what I mean, but I'm sensing that
neither of you feels entirely comfortable with me. Is it because of the
case?"

I turned to Max, who had leaned against the island of the kitchen. That I
hadn't expressed an opinion on the matter when given the opportunity told
him that I hadn't known what to say.

Max moved toward the table. "Let's sit for a minute, James."

I took the seat at the end, Max returned to his usual seat, and James took
the one I had vacated across from Max.

"You seem to have taken to us rather quickly," said Max, "and you trust
us. Can you articulate why?"

"I trusted you almost immediately," he said. "and, at first, I trusted
Millstone because you were together. On the job the other day, you treated
me as though you knew I was innocent. Even if you hadn't known for a fact,
you still gave me the benefit of the doubt when no one else had
bothered. I'd had fingers pointing at me for several days.

"Over my life, people have made me feel like I'm someone to suspect,
someone to be wary of, or just some porn-parody of a real human being. The
guys in high school gym class suggested I star in a porn film with this
clever title, James and the Giant Penis."--he turned to me--"Since
yesterday, I know we have something big in common, so that helps like we're
brothers under the belt or something. I've never met anyone like me
before. When I'm around the two of you and Wade, I feel normal, and, until
now, I have had no one in my life that makes me feel that way."

"With others," said Max, "it probably hadn't helped that you presented
yourself as a sadist."

He shrugged a little. "You know why I did," he said. "Wade told me you
realized it wasn't true. I had gotten so tired of finding someone I really
liked, but whenever the time for sex arrived, the clothes would come off,
and they would leave immediately, suddenly want to shove me into the friend
zone, or it would end in an unpleasant one-night stand. I even tried
putting off sex, so they could get to know me first, but that never made a
difference. So, I invented the sadist persona and settled with regulars
that wanted the sex, but I felt no attraction."--James looked straight at
me--"And I bet you've had similar experiences, haven't you?"

I nodded. "I'm not as thick as you, so I have gotten more blow jobs than I
care to count, but nothing else worked out until Max."

"You're lucky," he said. "I always feel like I'm getting blown by a shark,
just a mouth full of teeth, scraping me until I'm raw. Not that I'm opposed
to anyone letting me fuck their fists and catching my load in their
mouth. I just wouldn't want anyone thinking they can stuff my cock into
their face because it won't go in. And I can't tell you how many times
people have suggested that going into porn was my solution. As if, when you
have a huge cock, you have no other options in life, and you're nothing
more than life support for an enormous penis."

"Many people suggested I should do porn too," I said. "So, would you like
to have something with Wade?"

"We like each other, and we had an unusual night together; we had no sex,
just lots of what he called intimacy. I enjoyed it a lot, and strangely, I
feel energized today. But he has...I couldn't say fear, really. It's more
like a deep concern about my size."

"Realistically," I said, "that's understandable with guys like us. Give him
time."

"I'm willing to give him all the time he wants."

 "Let's go back a bit," I said, "you told us that you had fingers pointing
at you for days. Besides the police, who else pointed their finger?"

"Oh...some of that's less actual finger-pointing than coworkers acting
suspicious toward me, but a couple of the fellas at work were more vocal of
their suspicions during coffee, and then the day I met you guys, Delilah
called to tell me that I would replace Chadwell on the painting job, and
she wasn't nice either."

"Well, no wonder you had your nose out of joint," said Max.

"Yeah, sorry about that," he said. "So, should I consider playing with you
guys permanently off the menu?"

I looked at Max. We had discussed the topic, and he knew I would leave the
initial decision of whether we should ever play with anyone up to
him. Although, if I had any objections, I would certainly tell him.

"Not permanently," said Max, "just for the moment. Millstone's busy
refilling his tanks, and I'm full of a big breakfast that included two
loads. So, if the right time should come, it isn't right now. Let me get
dressed."--he stood from the table--"Why don't you entertain our guest
while I do that?" He kissed me and left.

"I noticed that we have cultivated the same habit," I said to James.

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"I suspect that, over the years, we have both been made to feel so
self-conscious about our size that we've taken to wearing long untucked
shirts to make it less obtrusive."

He glanced down at his lap. "Oh...that. I guess it just makes things
easier. I started that when I turned 16, so for the last 12 years. People
used to stare, and they whispered to one another. But the shirts aren't a
perfect cover, especially if I'm sitting. As an adult in the outside world,
people would even confront me about it, just to tell me how inappropriate I
was. One time, a woman on the subway in Baltimore went ballistic when she
saw me. She got up in my face, accused me of being a pervert, and that I
stuffed my pants to get attention. She went on and on. She caught me at a
bad moment, so I stood up, pulled my junk out, and yelled, `I can't hide
this, lady! So, get the fuck out of my face and learn to mind your own
goddamn business!' Fortunately, the subway car had few people in it, and I
got off at the next stop, so I had no trouble with the law. But things like
that make me wear the shirts."

Not surprisingly, I had had similar experiences, but I questioned myself
whether it mattered anymore. As of that morning's gossip column, it seemed
that people would know about me. It reminded me of Bo Pecker, our
playmate. He said, "When I came here, I decided to embrace my body and my
size. I don't care who knows anymore."

When Max came from behind the partition, he put his arm around me, kissed
me, and I left to get ready.

After brushing my teeth, I dressed, and as I buttoned my gray and white
striped shirt over my faded blue, gusseted jeans, I stood there looking
down at the obvious snake-like bulge in the mirror. I knew I had nothing to
feel ashamed of. I took a deep breath, said, "Fuck it," opened my pants,
and proceeded to tuck my shirttail, leaving me exposed to possible
ridicule, stares, and the not too surreptitious whispers. I kept telling
myself, "I will not live in fear." But I had just begun to understand the
power densely packed into the phrase, "I don't give a fuck." Judiciously
applied, those five little words could help someone take their power back
that they needed to control their own life. Then a disturbing thought
entered my mind, and I wondered just how deeply the outside world had
controlled me. And I questioned how many more times I would have to
consciously struggle to free myself of its manipulations, both subtle and
gross.

When I emerged from the bedroom, Max took one look at me, smiled, and
kissed me. He never told me what I should do, but he always told me when he
was proud of me and never discouraged my attempts to think for myself, make
my own mistakes without shoving them into my face, or to discover things at
my own pace. He was generous like that, and I loved him for it. James
noticed, too, especially since we had just had that conversation. He said
nothing but gave me an expectant gaze as if to ask, "Why?"

I told him, "We have no obligation to treat the opinion of haters with any
kind of validity. The idea we should hide ourselves because they don't want
to see it lets them control us. Screw those people. Why should we let their
wishes stand as some default normal? It's like they consider themselves a
model of what everyone else should aspire to; they want us to hide our
so-called `abnormality,' so they can pretend no one different from
themselves exists; they want us to comply with their dictates on how we
should live as if our needs and desires should forever take a back seat to
theirs. Well, fuck that, I refuse to live like that anymore."

I could tell that he accepted what I said, but he still needed to think
about it.

Besides a look at the office space that morning, we had a few errands to
run, and as I intended to tuck my shirts from that point, I really needed
some that wouldn't bunch up in my pants, so I thought we should get a few.

We found the Lancashire Building located in a relatively nice area of
town. It had several restaurants nearby and a park with lots of trees. As
for the building itself, it surprised me that they hadn't built it as one
of those visually boring glass structures that I expected to see and always
despised; instead, it had a symmetrical, contemporary appearance with lots
of appeal. At 8:45, we met the agent on the twelfth floor, a woman named
Carla Delgado. She looked about five feet four and had a pretty face.

"The owner renovated the building about eight years ago," she said, "and
we've taken good care of it."

"Who owns the building?" I asked.

"Winter owns it in a subsidiary called Anorak Holdings."

"How much of Franklin does Winter actually own?" asked Max.

"Given how wealthy she is, surprisingly little," she said. "That I'm aware,
she owns four office buildings in this area and a flawless estate on the
other side of the bay in Queensbury."

The space for lease had a reception area with a powder room for clients and
three offices. One office, the largest one, had an executive washroom fully
lined in quartz tile. One office had no windows, but the other two had a
great view of downtown. And, as for security, it had a wireless, monitored
system.

I asked Ms. Delgado if she would leave us for a few minutes while we
discussed it. She went to the ground floor to get a cup of coffee from the
Dungeon Cafe there.

"I think this is perfect," I said.

"Even the price?" asked Max. "You don't think it's too big? What would we
use the other two offices for?"

"This place is cheaper than I had in New York. The big one with the
bathroom we would use for the main office; we could keep all the business
in there, the bills, taxes, records, and the computer. The smaller office
with the view, we could use as a conference room. We wouldn't have to buy a
huge table, just someplace comfortable to talk with clients, and the room
with no window we could use for storage. Detective work requires all sorts
of things for various types of cases. It could all go in there."

James stood at the window, his hands clasped behind his back, admiring the
view. Neither Max nor I had spoken a word to him since we arrived, and I'm
unsure what possessed me to ask, but... "What do you think, James?"

He turned to face me, and he looked around for a moment. "It's nice, but
you don't need this."

"Why?" I asked.

"This is old-school," he said. "For small businesses, having an office
space is outdated; this isn't the 20th century. Technology has allowed
people to move away from this sort of thing. People would rather optimize
their business from home. What I think you should do, rather than having a
permanent space like this, where clients come to you, instead, you could go
to your clients, or meet them somewhere, or have an internet meeting. You
could make all your money transactions over the internet by using banking
apps, taking credit cards, or use one of the many online pay
services. Rather than having a filing cabinet, you could store all your
cases inside encoded files on a secure server in the cloud. You could carry
your business with you on laptops, tablets, and cellphones. You could keep
the things you need for your job at home, and you have plenty of space for
that. But...if you insist on having an office space, this place looks
great, but for a modern small business, you would be leasing a dinosaur."

I was speechless. In my head, my thoughts had taken an entirely different
direction than anything James had just suggested. But he was right, and I
felt embarrassed because I hadn't thought of it myself. I wouldn't,
however, let that get in the way of an amazing idea.

Max had a smile on his face. "How do you know all this?" he asked him.

"I looked it up," he said. "I figured I would need to know if I wanted my
own business. Alliance is literally an alliance of individual businesses
and subcontractors. If I became a licensed plumber and not just working
under the license of someone else, I could have my own business. I could
work for myself and, if I show Alliance my worth, they might take me on;
they only ally with the best specialists, and that's why people go to
them. I would make more money doing that than just subcontracting my labor
with Alliance as a peon, but you must have a license for a specialized job
and your own business. So, recently, I got on with a plumber friend who was
showing me the ropes a few days a week with some on-the-job training."

I stood there looking at James for a moment, and a thought occurred to
me. "Are you married to the idea of becoming a plumber?"

"What are you thinking?" Max asked me.

"I try to take good opportunities," said James, "and that one came
along. Are you about to make me an offer?"

I turned to Max. "Would you have any objections?"

"No, I trust you."

"I appreciate that, Max." I returned my eyes to the man before me and
stepped closer to him. "I like you, and I want to trust you. When this case
blows over, and it will. I would like you to work for us. We'll pay you to
take a couple of classes to better yourself and show me you're willing to
commit; I'm sure we could find something appropriate here in Franklin. You
could help us set up the technical things, assist in running the business,
and you can help with the leg work on our cases. You've lived here longer
than us, so that's an asset. If you could show us a commitment, loyalty,
and that you're worthy of the level of trust that I'm willing to give
you--because you must earn it--you could go far. And, over time, you could
have a good life working with us as part of our team, rather than just
working for us. Are you interested?"

He looked a bit dumbfounded. "Wow," he said. "I wasn't expecting that kind
of offer."

Ms. Delgado returned with a cup of coffee. "So, should we break out the
lease contracts?"

"Well, ma'am, that depends on our friend here," I said. "What do you say,
James?"

He gave me a little smile and turned to the agent. "I think we're going to
try something else."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," she said.

"But we appreciate your time." I shook her hand.

"No problem," she said, "this is my job. If you change your mind, give me a
call."

Max took my hand on the way out and said, "Her coffee smelled
delicious. Would you guys like some before we leave? My treat."

"That sounds great," said James. "I would love a cup, creamer, no sugar,
please. And I really need to use the restroom.

"Yeah, me too," I said, "on both counts."

As Max ordered the coffee, James and I took a leak. I always had to stand
back a bit when I pee at a urinal, and, over the years, I had given an
eyeful to many a man as a result. James noticed and just laughed.

"I want to thank you for the opportunity," he said. "I know what this could
mean for my life. But could you tell me why you're giving me the chance?"

"You dropped that bullshit persona and let us see who you really are. If
you hadn't, I would never have trusted you."

"I won't go back to that," he said, "I promise."

"Good." I packed my appendage away, tucked my shirt, and buttoned up. "Let
me give you a tip that too many people never realize. Genuineness and a
polite manner will take someone quite far in this world; it opens doors,
and when that happens, you have an opportunity to shine, like the one I'm
giving you now."

I moved to the sink to wash my hands, and as I stood there, James waited
his turn. I glanced at him as I dried my hands with a paper towel and saw
that he had tucked his shirt, showing quite a bulge. He saw that I noticed,
and I smiled at him.

"I figured showing some confidence might help," he said, smiling a little.

"It just might." I clapped him on the shoulder and left to get my coffee.

The rest of the day we spent replacing the long-tailed shirts that both
James and I had in our wardrobes. I decided to help him make a clean break
from them, and he swore that he wouldn't go back to it. I thought of it as
a celebration of our new-found independence from the societal pressure of
the outside world, an appropriate sentiment for the Fourth of July.

The limited availability of shirts with long tails meant a poor selection,
so neither James nor I had worn anything decent in over a decade. We even
took the time to visit Albert's leather artisan, who constructed his
shorts. He measured the three of us, and he said he would contact us when
he had a few designs ready for our viewing. Apparently, he makes sketches
before he even touches the leather. He said he had some amazing ideas in
mind and assured us we would love them.


"You guys need some furniture," said James.

We had arrived home a few minutes before Edgerton. Once again, we all sat
at the dining table. I admit that mealtimes hadn't caused an issue with
discomfort, but I wouldn't have wanted to sit there permanently.

"The guys at Steamy Pete said the living room furniture will arrive on
Monday," said Max, "but our bed will get here tomorrow between three and
five in the afternoon."

"You bought furniture at Steamy Pete?" asked James.

"Yeah," I said, "what about it?"

"I have a friend who works there," he said. "Will they deliver anything
with their extra special white-glove service?"

"Yeah, the living room suit on Monday," said Max.

"Oh man...may I be here when they come?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Sure, but what's the big deal?"

"You mean, you don't know? Steamy Pete has some seriously hot delivery men,
and their extra special white-glove service comes with sex."

I burst out laughing.

"Really?" asked Max.

The whole thing gave me a belly laugh. "I should have guessed. We met your
friend Master Brice."

"Oh, did you? What's ol' Bricie up to?"

"About seven and a half inches, according to Albert," said Max, sending a
text message.

James laughed. "Yeah, that sounds like Brice."

"I texted Edgerton," Max said. "I told him to not bother knocking when he
got here."

"Guys, I want to thank you for everything you've done for me," said
James. "And I had a great time today. I look forward to getting this case
over and working with you guys. I think together, we could create a modern
business that you will find worth the initial effort, especially
financially. I suspect, even with whatever you guys decide to pay me, it
would still be less than half what you would have paid per month in rent at
that office space, maybe even a third if you included the utilities, phone,
internet, and whatever else."

"You're welcome," I said. "I'm glad you spoke your mind when I asked. Never
be afraid to do that, okay?"

"Not many bosses would say that, so thanks. And I won't forget that tip you
gave me."

"Good."

The detective entered the apartment. "Good afternoon, fellas! Has the big
boy behaved himself today?"

"As good as gold," said Max.

Laughing to himself, James got up from the table and went to Edgerton.

He smiled at James. "Well, look at you." He noticed his shirt and that he
hadn't left it hanging out.

"I guess I'm a tucker from now on," he said. "Is that alright?"

"That's more than alright. Come here, Tucker." They kissed for almost a
full minute, and when it ended, Edgerton pointed at us.

"We know," I said. "We didn't see that."

"Will you guys come to the roof tonight?" he asked us.

"What for?" asked Max.

"For the city's Fourth of July fireworks display. They shoot it high over
the ballpark from a nearby tower, and we have a great view of it from the
roof. It starts at ten tonight."

"Sounds good to me."

"We'll be there," I said.

Max and I enjoyed seeing the smile on James's face all that day, especially
when Edgerton came home. I wondered the last time that James felt happy. He
took his shopping bags with him when they left, and they would have a lot
to discuss over dinner that evening.

The detective and I swapped keys back, and after Max and I saw them out the
door, my Golden Bear kissed and hugged me. "I am so proud of you," he said.

"I hope I never tire of hearing you say that."

"In that case, I hope I always have a reason to say it."

I began unbuttoning his shirt, and he unbuttoned mine. Once our clothes lay
scattered on the floor, Max held me and whispered, "Have you any idea how
much I love you?"

"Show me."

He took my hand, guiding me to where the angle of the afternoon sun,
streaming through the plate glass, slowly climbed the partition that served
as our headboard for one final evening. His skin and fur glowed in its
reflection like the vision of some benevolent ursine god, come to carry me
in his arms to some paradise. Within minutes, I had lost myself deep inside
my beautiful Golden Bear, as thrust after thrust, he rode his unbridled
stallion bareback at full gallop, his ass taking every inch of me and the
brunt of the pounding. He fucked himself on me and fucked himself on me,
grunting in the effort, and he fountained load after load of hot thick
cream that rained its heat upon me like lava from a volcano.

I never wanted it to end, but too soon, I had to fight the urge to cum, and
held off as long as I could. Just before it started, I pulled Max onto me
and kissed him as I filled him with everything I had to give in that
moment. When it ended, I smiled when I realized my Honey Bear had fallen
asleep on top of me, his sticky cum gluing us together, and my cock fully
implanted inside him.

We had had a long and wonderful day, with a promise of more to come, so I
hadn't awakened him. I closed my eyes, enjoying the sensation of the
closeness I shared with the man I loved. The intoxicating scent of his
sweat and semen filled my nostrils, and with the comforting sound of his
steady breath in my ear, I drifted off.

An hour later, hunger awakened us both, and it forced us to shower, dress,
and find someplace for dinner. We had some delicious fish at a locally
owned restaurant near the bay called The Daily Catch, run by a straight
goth couple. We enjoyed that place and would eat there again soon.

Twenty of us stood on the roof that evening. They had started congregating
there about nine that night. Some of the guys brought up folding chairs and
bottles of wine or coolers of beer. Albert brought a picnic pack with two
bottles of his favorite Prosecco and some acrylic glasses for the five of
us, namely himself, the detective, James--who everyone began calling
Tucker, Max, and me.

I wondered how James would feel about his nickname, so I pulled him aside
while everyone else gathered around Albert as he opened a bottle, and I
asked him, "Would calling you Tucker bother you?"

"Oh, hell no, please do!"--he smiled broadly--"I think it's great. Getting
a nickname like that kinda makes me feel like I belong somewhere."

"Really?"

"I've never had a family, Millstone; I grew up in an abusive and
dysfunctional group home in Maryland."

"I thought you said your uncle was a lawyer."

"He's not my real uncle. His name is Charles Stanley, a pro bono lawyer in
Baltimore. I had some legal issues trying to get away from the group home
because of the abuse, and he became what he called my avuncular, a kind
uncle-like person I could count on. He's been the closest thing to family I
ever had. He even flew to Seattle, just to defend me in the lawsuit."

"I'm so sorry you've had such a hard time."

"Hey, I'm still here. That's what matters, right?"

Max brought me a glass of Prosecco. "Here you go." He handed me the
glass. "I think Wade has yours," he said to Tucker.

"Oh, okay," he said and left to get it.

"Having a nice conversation with the newly dubbed Tucker, are we?" Max
asked.

"In a way. It's strange how life happens." I said no more about it, but
when I took Max's hand, we interlocked our fingers. I raised his hand to my
face, kissed the back of it, and gave him a little smile, thinking to
myself how things could have gone so differently for me.

Holding his glass, Edgerton walked over and asked Max, "May I speak to
Millstone alone for a few minutes?"

"Sure," he said. "It'll give me an opportunity to ask Trouble about his
day." Max kissed me and left to speak to Albert.

Edgerton stood there for a moment, giving me a bit of a blank stare. "I
thought I would have something eloquent to say when I got over here," he
said. "I feel like I should say something, but a simple thank you feels
inadequate. Tucker told me what you did."

"It was purely for selfish reasons."  "Uh-huh," he said, "pardon me while I
don't believe that. You know, Thomas told me you were a rare bird, and he's
right."

"I have never belonged on a pedestal. I would hate to disappoint any of you
one day and make you regret it."

"No one would ever expect you to walk on water, but you have a deep-seated
need to do the right thing and to be kind and thoughtful. Those are
admirable qualities. I bet you feel that all the way to your bones, don't
you? You just can't help yourself."--he gave me a wry smile--"Let's join
the others; they'll think we're up to no good. Oh, and by the way, your
struggle to get in my good books is over."

"I don't know what to say to you, detective."

"Wade, please call me Wade when we're not working. And I'm not expecting
you to say anything. I'm just letting you know that"--he tapped my chest
three times in emphasis--"I see you. Come on, pal."

Three streaks of light, one each of red, white, and blue, all of which
exploded into a brilliant display, kicked off the show. I stood at the
parapet wall behind Max, my arms around him as we watched the fireworks,
but also, I inhaled the scent of Max's hair and kissed him repeatedly on
the neck. As it continued, the air began to take on the odor of something
burned, and the sky turned a bit smoky, as sometimes happens with
fireworks.

"I think I smell those fireworks all the way over here," said Albert.

Fortunately, the show had just enough distance to prevent the noise from
overpowering our ability to speak to one another or for Wade to hear his
cellphone. The show would last half an hour, and about twenty minutes in,
Wade received a call from the precinct. Even in the dim light, we could see
his horrified expression.

"Okay, thanks. I'll be right there," he said to the officer.

"What's happened?" asked Albert.

"Tucker, you said you live at 2453 Sweet Basil Lane, didn't you?" he asked.

"Yes. Is something wrong?"

"Your house is engulfed in flames."

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