Stone Cold Foxe Page 11

  “Hey, don’t kid about that.”

  “There’s no sniper. If they could do that, they would have tried it first.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He kissed her again. “Good night, Sidney.”

  He got out of the car and stood a bit unsteadily on the curb. A little buzzed. He’d be fine. He waved as he made his way up the stairs and unlocked the door. Keith was inside, watching the television with his feet up on the coffee table.

  “He arrives in one piece,” Keith declared.

  Skyler flopped down on the sofa beside him and turned his face up to accept a kiss. “How was your bachelor party?”

  “Van, Tim, and Mike took me to a cigar and whiskey bar. It was all very civilized.”

  “Eww, cigars!” He waved his hand at the air, even though he only caught the merest of whiffs from Keith’s skin. He’d already shed his clothes and was wearing sweats and a tank top. “You didn’t smoke, did you?”

  “Maybe one. Just to be sociable.”

  “If you think mouth cancer is sociable, then far be it from me—”

  “One, Skyler. In my entire life.”

  Skyler was still muttering under his breath when Keith asked, “And how was yours?”

  “Well, it didn’t involve any smokes. Sidney talked Gil into turning Trixx into ‘Skyler Night’.”

  “I’m almost afraid to ask.”

  “My virtue was not compromised once, though there were many offers.”

  Keith grunted non-committedly.

  “And there were these two strippers—”

  “Two? Wasn’t one enough?”

  “Not for what these guys were doing. Honestly, there wasn’t a limp dick in the house.”

  “I can imagine. Wish I’d seen it.”

  Skyler grabbed the clicker and shut off the TV. He turned toward Keith. “Well, if you’re very polite to me, I can see my way into giving you a replay.”

  “Oh? Well. In that case…”

  He dragged Skyler against him and planted a deep kiss. Soon Skyler climbed up into his lap, stripped off his shirt and trousers, and did his best to recreate the scene.

  The next day at school, Skyler sleep-walked through the day. Teachers who ordinarily gave him a wave in passing, now stopped to talk to him and wish him well. Ben Fontana, the big sheepdog of an art teacher, cornered him in the teacher’s lounge; Skyler with his coffee, Ben with his small bottle of orange juice.

  “Now explain this to me,” said Ben. “Is a same sex wedding different from a straight wedding?”

  Skyler burned his tongue on the hot coffee, giving it a quick, bracing gulp.

  Trisha Hornbeck was at the fridge and paused in the door. “Ben! Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I’m not being ridiculous,” said Ben. “I’m inquiring.”

  “For goodness sake,” she said. “You were the first sponsor of the GSA. How could you ask such an insensitive question?”

  His face fell. “Oh, gee, Skyler buddy, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “It’s okay, Trish,” said Skyler. “Like he said, he just wants to know. I wish more people would ask questions. So, as far as I know, Ben, a same sex wedding is just like any other wedding. Or it can be very different. The only difference is it’s a same sex couple. But I suppose there’s a lot of bride and groom things we won’t be doing. We’re going down the aisle together, escorted by both sets of parents, for instance.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s…that’s great.”

  “You are coming, right? Then you can see for yourself.”

  “Darned right I’m coming. Wouldn’t miss it.” He swigged his orange juice and made a hasty exit.

  “Trish, you shouldn’t shame him like that.”

  “Maybe I’m too sensitive,” she said, removing her glasses and letting them hang on their chain on her chest. “It just seemed too ignorant for someone like him. He should know better.”

  “Down, girl.”

  She smiled and patted his arm. “Are you getting nervous?”

  He stiffened. “Only because everyone keeps asking me if I am.”

  “Oh dear. Speaking of ignorant. I’m sorry. You’ll be fine. There’s nothing to be nervous about. Unless you don’t like public speaking, and this would be a pretty stupid profession to get into if you’re that shy.”

  “You’re right there.”

  As the day went on, he spent the time obsessing over the wedding and what it would be like, and if everything was going to go off without a hitch. They had rehearsed it Wednesday night with all the parents, with Tamika officiating, and had even had fun that evening, with families meeting, lots of laughter, and perhaps a little too much drinking all around. But it hadn’t been the actual wedding. Not yet. That was tomorrow.

  In each class, someone had brought a bouquet for him and cards signed by each period’s students. His classroom was beginning to look like a flower shop. He was grateful that the kids seemed to care and offered their heartfelt congratulations. It made him feel better about the world in general and about his small world of school and job in particular.

  Once his last period class left for the day, he looked around the room at his collection of flowers and cards, and sighed. He knew he was going to be staying late to get work done. After all, they weren’t getting back from their honeymoon till Wednesday, and he wouldn’t be back in class till Thursday. He wanted to make sure to leave detailed instructions for his sub, get all the papers and tests corrected before he left, and leave instructions for the janitor to dispose of the flowers—though he was sure to take a sample from each bunch and carefully pack it with its card.

  He corrected paper after paper, marking down each grade in the computer as he went. And then he settled in to read some essays. Some moved along at a good clip, while others were covered in red marks and notes.

  He came to Alex Ryan’s essay and was cheered by the upward progress he was making. He and Rick were working on his dyslexia with assignments and exercises and it appeared to be working. He was surprised himself when he marked a B- on his essay. That was surely the best grade the teen had ever achieved. “He’s going to be shocked with that one,” he muttered happily to himself.

  Stretching his achy back, he glanced at the clock. “Wow. I didn’t realize how late it was.” He looked up at the noise in the hall to see that it was Mr. Bashir with his floor polisher. He waved when the janitor looked up, and the man waved back, earbuds firmly in place, playing his music, no doubt.

  Skyler worked on, filing pages into clearly marked folders for his sub and adding a long note to each manila folder. He reached for his travel mug but it was empty. Glancing across his desk, he could see that he was far from finished, and there was no way he could take it home, especially because he had to file them and leave notes. Reluctantly, he rose and exited the room to go to the teacher’s lounge to make more coffee.

  The school was dead quiet. It seemed that every soul had left and even the sounds of Mr. Bashir’s cleaning machines were silenced. He knew that Keith was probably here in his own classroom in a bungalow across the campus, or maybe in his office in the boy’s locker room. He’d be just as busy as Skyler, getting papers ready for his biology substitute. But Skyler was in the main building, an old 1930s monolith with two staircases to his second floor classroom; one centrally located and one on the other end of the long corridor.

  He tromped down the central staircase to the teacher’s lounge, not too far from the office. Didn’t look like any personnel were still there. The office lights were dark. He poked his head toward the glass wall. Even Mr. Sherman had gone, and he was usually the last to leave.

  The school always felt ghostly when all had gone, when the sunlight of the day had turned to unfamiliar shadows. The sound of his footsteps was lonely on the polished floors, and echoed in a solitary reverberation off the lockers lining the corridor, the glass trophy cases, the myriad of posters and flyers pinned to the walls. The colors of the sunset streaked through the glass front doors
and left a rainbow of reds and golds stretching across the linoleum in front of him, like a carpet. He crossed over it to reach the lounge and pushed open the door, flicking on the light. He set to the automatic job of filling the coffee maker with his own stash of ground Ethiopian from The Bean, far better than the usual fare in the lounge. He hummed to himself as he waited for the brew, the rich aroma of the coffee filling the small room. He ticked off in his head all that needed to happen tomorrow. The flowers, the photographer, Rodolfo with the cake, the string quartet for before and during the wedding, the DJ for the reception, the families, the friends, everything to happen and go off without a hitch. Both grooms in place, of course. Keith was excited and ready to go. Skyler was…hmm.

  Skyler was being Skyler. Yes, he was ready. Yes, he would be there. No, he didn’t want to back out of it. Much.

  Married. To Keith. It felt as if they had always been together, but in reality, it hadn’t been that long at all. He looked around the little lounge and remembered the first time he laid eyes on him right in this room. In his head, he had called him a “Walking Wet Dream,” and that assessment had not changed since he’d known the man. The mere thought of him made his heart flutter girlishly. And his dick surge. “You are so smitten, Skyler,” he murmured, chuckling. He hadn’t even known if Keith was gay when he had been trying to get his attention…and nearly spilled hot coffee in his lap.

  “That got his attention, all right.” He still reddened upon thinking about it. He had been such an idiot, too, insulting football players before he was told Keith was the new assistant coach. It should have ended right there. Yet Skyler had been attracted to him and had tried to apologize, but Keith was being an asshole about it. Little had Skyler known that he had been working undercover for the Feds and was trying desperately not to be attracted to Skyler. “So much for that,” he said, cheerfully. He rinsed out his tall travel mug and poured himself a cup of the steaming brew.

  He remembered their first kiss. Keith had dragged him into an empty classroom and kissed him right there in the school. He hadn’t been sure about Keith up until that moment. The kiss had been sexy and exciting and dangerous and…wow. There had been no going back. That was a year and a month ago.

  And now he was getting married to him.

  He turned off the coffee maker, cleaned it, and switched off the light as he left. He started down the hallway when all suddenly fell dark.

  “What?” He looked at his watch. Six thirty. Were the lights on auto? He headed down the hall, but it was darker than he thought. He reached in his pocket for his phone when he realized he’d left it on his desk. “Peachy.” He could have sworn he was here late before without the lights going out. He reached the stairwell, groped for the light switch on the wall, and flicked it on. Nothing. Flicking it several times, he looked around and noticed some lights that should have been on all the time in the corridor in front of the main entrance weren’t. “Oh, great. The power’s out.” He grabbed the railing with one hand, griped his coffee mug with the other, and carefully made his way up the stairs.

  But once he’d reached the top landing, he stopped. Footsteps? “Mr. Bashir?” His voice echoed and died away but there was no answer. The footsteps were faint and then stopped. “Hello?” The security guard? But shouldn’t he be answering? “H-hello?”

  The footsteps started again. He looked down the corridor one way and then down the other. In the dimness, he couldn’t see anyone. He stood frozen. What should he do? Run to his classroom to the phone? Down the steps to the outside? But there was the gate and he had left his key back in his room, too. Sprint to the gym and hope that Keith was still here?

  Decision made. He ran.

  His classroom was nearly the last down the end of the corridor. The footsteps pursued. He raced to his classroom, stopped himself by grabbing the door jamb, and flung himself inside. Slamming the door, he threw the lock, then stared out through the little window in the door to the darkened corridor.

  No one.

  Were they scared off? Gave up?

  He wanted to open the door to look and almost did. Instead, he threw himself against the windowed wall and with his face pressed against the glass, stared down the corridor. Was that a shadow receding? He couldn’t tell.

  Two steps to his desk in the dark room and he snatched his phone, poised to call 9-1-1…and hesitated. What had really happened, after all? The lights had gone out, he heard footsteps…and then nothing.

  Instead, he called Keith.

  Keith told him to stay where he was. And it wasn’t long until the lights came back up. Heavy footsteps again, but then Keith’s figure appeared in the slim window in the door.

  “Skyler, it’s me.”

  Skyler threw the deadbolt open and flung wide the door. Keith engulfed him in his arms. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Just…a little shaken.”

  “I checked on the main panel. Someone cut off the lock. I’ve already called maintenance, Mr. Sherman, and Sidney.”

  “We’ll be here all night.”

  “No, we won’t. I already told Sidney we were leaving and that anything they needed to do, they could do without us.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “We have a wedding to celebrate tomorrow, and nothing is getting in the way of that.”

  “Well…okay.” He gathered his things and followed Keith out the door.

  Looking back at the school as they entered the parking lot, Skyler wondered when—and where—this would all end.

  Part Two

  “A man in love is incomplete until he is married.

  Then he’s finished.”

  – Zsa Zsa Gabor

  Chapter Ten

  I’M NOT PANICKED, I’M NOT PANICKED, I’M NOT panicked.

  And yet there he was, breathing into a paper bag, and hiding in the bathroom.

  This is ridiculous. I love Keith.

  “Skyler? Are you okay in there? Why have you locked the door?”

  “Did I?” He stuffed the bag into the trash bin, took a deep breath, and flipped the lock, letting the door fall open. Keith looked him up and down.

  “Babe, you’re still in your underwear.”

  “So are you.”

  With a deep sigh, Keith pivoted, strode to the bedroom, and sat on the edge of the bed. “Here we go.”

  Get a hold of yourself, Skyler. He marched out of the bathroom and stood before Keith. “I have something to say.”

  “Fuck. I knew it. I tried to talk myself out of it, that it wasn’t going to happen. But there it is. I fell for it again. At least you had the grace not to leave me there alone at the altar.”

  “No! Shut up. Listen to me. This is not what you think it is.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “No.” He spread out his hands. “Keith, it’s no secret I’ve been…scared.”

  “None whatsoever.”

  “Wow. A little hedging could have gone a long way,” he muttered.

  “Skyler, just pull the goddammed Band Aid, already.”

  “Okay. I’ve been hesitant, scared, numb, questioning. In fact, I was just in the bathroom having a panic attack.” He swallowed. “I’m over it now. But.” He crouched in front of Keith and took his cold hands in his. “I’ve never doubted you and your feelings for me. And you know what? You must never, ever, doubt my feelings for you. I love you. I’ve never loved anyone like this. And I panicked a little. One last time. Panicked about my decisions and what might happen. But you know what? Today, we’re getting married.”

  “Are we?”

  He still had that hang-dog expression. It stung Skyler’s chest with a dull ache. Why did the man torture himself like this? “Are you saying that you’ve gone all these months with all these wedding plans going on around you, under the assumption that I wouldn’t go through with it? What kind of sadist are you?”

  “The kind that loves you.”

  Ouch. “Keith, look at me.” It took a while, but those blue eyes finally rose to his. S
till wary, as wary as that first night that Skyler proposed, they nevertheless looked at him straight on. “I’m just trying to tell you, that as scared as I am, I know this is the exact right thing for me. And I’m gonna marry you.”

  “You are, huh?” Keith didn’t look any happier and Skyler’s whole chest felt as if his heart might die of it.

  He poked Keith in his carefully coifed furred pecs. “Yeah, mister. That’s right. I’m gonna marry you so hard, you’re gonna feel it the next day. You are gonna be so married.”

  A smile cracked at the edge of Keith’s formerly downturned mouth. “I am?”

  “Oh, let me tell you. I’m gonna pound that marriage deep into you. I’m taking this marriage to the extreme. This is going to be the biggest dildo of marriages.”

  “Okay, this metaphor is getting away from you.”

  “But do you believe me? Do you?”

  He pulled Skyler closer. “Why are you still so scared?” Fingers stroked the side of Skyler’s face. His skin tingled where Keith touched. He kissed gently, just the merest touch on his lips. “It’s just me. We’ll go on as we have before. We’ll have rings and a certificate this time, and I guess we’ll be more than we were, but still us. Right, babe?”

  Skyler nodded. A little of the fear receding. He licked his lips. “And you won’t leave, right?” he said quietly, almost too quietly for Keith to hear. But the look of astonishment on Keith’s face told Skyler he had heard.

  “Oh, sweetheart. Is that what’s really bothering you?”

  Skyler hadn’t realized till that moment that…well, maybe it was. His father’s leaving had left an indelible impression, far more than he’d realized. Damn Freud!

  “You know I’ll never leave,” said Keith softly.

  “But you did…once.”

  “And I was an idiot. Never again, Skyler. Never.”

  Something lifted off Skyler’s shoulders. It seemed to fly away, leaving a lightness that eased the darkness in Skyler’s soul. “Okay, then.”