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“Really?”
“Honest, he’s okay. I’ll tell him you were askin’. Now get off the phone. It’s my bedtime. Some of us have to be up at the crack of too damn early o’clock. See you tomorrow. Drive careful.” He hung up.
Butch chuckled. “Paul is fine. In fact, he’s been fine most of the day.Noware you gonna tell me what’s going on?”
Sol waved the paper at him. “We’ve been conned. This is from Toby.” He peered at it. “‘I’m sorry, okay?’” he read aloud. “‘I thought you needed a push in the right direction. You’ll thank me later.’” He hesitated.
“Is that it? Or is there more?”
Sol sighed. “I might as well read it all. There’s always the possibility you’ll see it at some point before we leave here in the morning.” He cleared his throat and continued. “‘Now tell Butch the story you told us, about when you were sixteen.’”
“What’s he sorry for? And tell me what?”
Sol tossed the note onto the nightstand. “I might be wrong, but I think we’re going to discover Paul was never sick.”
“Then why did he say he was?”
“But did he?” Sol locked gazes. “Who told us he was sick? Toby. Neither of us saw Paul. No one did. You know what I think? Toby told us that story to get me to go with you.”
“But why? And what is it you’re supposed to tell me?”
Sol sat on the bed, his legs stretched out in front of him, the bottle still in his hand. “I think we’re both going to need a drink.” He unfastened the top button of his shirt, enough that Butch could see the white tee he wore under it. Sol crossed his legs at the ankles, then uncrossed them again.
Butch studied him. Sol seemed jumpy, and that wasn’t something Butch expected of him. His usual cool appeared to have packed its bags and gotten the fuck out of there.
“What’s got you so rattled?” He glanced at the note. “Look, just because Toby says tell me something doesn’t mean you have to.”
“I hate being manipulated, that’s all.”
Maybe a drink wasn’t such a bad idea.
“Let me get the glasses from the bathroom.” Butch went in search of them, then joined Sol on the bed. “Okay. Crack it open.”
Except Sol didn’t.
“On second thoughts, maybe I should do this while we’re both sober.”
Butch’s stomach clenched. “You’re scarin’ me.”
“Nothing to be scared of.” Sol leaned his head against the padded board, the bottle sitting between his thighs. “Okay. I was sixteen when I first realized I was into boys, not girls. I mean, I liked girls, but I couldn’t ever imagine kissing one.”
Butch smiled. “So what gave it away?” Talking seemed to be the medicine Sol needed.
“The fact that the one person Icouldimagine locking lips with was a guy.”
“Yeah, I’d say that was a clue right there.” Butch was trying to keep the tone light. Whatever it was Sol was about to divulge, it meant something.
“Just the thought of him made me shiver. I used to lie in bed at night, all kinds of dirty, sexy fantasies running through my head. Of course, we both know why there was no way I could ever tell him.”
Yeah, he knew all right.
Butch’s frown deepened. “But I don’t get it. Why does Toby want you to tellmeall this?”
“Because…” Sol opened the bottle and took a swig. He coughed.
“Hey, take it easy.”
Sol stared at the bottle, his breathing quickening. “I told Toby and Robert the name of the guy who’d got me all hot and bothered. Thing was, it was a name they already knew.” He raised his chin and stared at him. “Because he works for them.”
