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My body tingled with the evening’s promise. I shot Bennett a text when I knew he was sleeping, so he’d see it when he woke up on his version of Sunday of the irregular schedule’s “weekend.” Told him to be ready by six, to dress in something warm, and to bring a snack. I’d take care of the rest. I had already driven by our old spot along the Sudbury, confirming I could park the car where we used to fourteen years ago. Temps would get down to mid-forties later, and being so close to the water would probably make it colder. But there would be plenty of blankets and cuddling to keep us warm.
I had been smiling, thinking of Bennett, when my phone rang. Pulled it out.
HARRY DEACON
I glowered. The man never called. We only ever texted. I thumbed the green circle.
“Deacon,cal-ee-mare-uh.”
I heard a chuckle through the earpiece. Deacon corrected the way I butchered “good morning” in Greek, then explained, patronizingly and teasingly, that it was no longer morning for either of us.
“I’ll get it one of these days,” I told him. “So what’s up, man?”
“Just wanting to check in, my friend. How is your mother doing?” Deacon asked.
“As good as can be expected in her current state. She’s still writing, if you can believe it.”
“I can,” he said. “An artist will never stop.”
“Too true. Is everything okay out there? My house didn’t burn down, did it?” I didn’t want to spin our wheels on small talk. Deacon never called, and I wanted to know why he suddenly decided to.
“I wanted to tell you that the service for Ryan was beautiful,” Deacon said. “It was held yesterday. Lots attended. Was good to see the turnout. The other instructors have been asking about you.”
“Glad to hear the service was nice. Honestly, Deacon, I still can’t believe he died from an overdose. I mean, you know Ryan. I don’t think I ever saw him eat anything with sugar in it. And now heroin? That’s just crazy.”
“Yes, it is crazy.” Deacon’s voice dropped lower. “Toocrazy, no?”
“What, like… suspicious kind of crazy?” What was he trying to get at?
Deacon paused before answering. “I want to know howyouare doing, my friend. Is everything okay out there? Have you seen anything unusual?”
Shit, he’s serious. I answered, “Like… how do you mean?”
“Unusual, Connor. This is a normal word that you understand.”
I felt my adrenaline spike. I remembered Deacon’s line of work.
Fixer. Keeping the record label pristine in its public appearance. Making sure none of its artists did anything that might negatively affect themselves or the company. Making problems simplydisappear.
I swallowed and ran through the past eleven days since I’d been home. “Deacon, brother, you gotta—”
“My friend,” he interrupted. “I do not like speaking on the phone. Texting is worse. Do you understand?”
“Yeah,” I said. My eyes rolled up to retrieve the information. “I guess there’s been this one car that Bennett thinks is following him.”
“Bennett is…?”
“This guy I’ve been seeing. My boyfriend, actually.” A sliver of elation bloomed in my chest from the ease of the statement. Deacon didn’t comment on it. “He’s a cop. He’s been seeing this one car from Jersey a lot. And then the other day when we were leaving his father’s place after dinner, I noticed the same car. I mean, I assume it’s some crazy ex of his or someone he pulled over? I figured the Concord PD would deal with it.”
“Mm,” Deacon mumbled. “Have you heard from your agent?”
“Simon? Yeah. He called me last week. Coked out of his mind. I told him to fuck off after he suggested I use my mother’s illness for online sympathy points.”
“Scum,” Deacon grunted out.
“Deacon, what’s going on? Why are you asking me these things?”
“I want you to be safe, my friend,” he told me. “Lay low, yeah?”
