Before You
folder
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
57
Views:
20,034
Reviews:
556
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
57
Views:
20,034
Reviews:
556
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Chapter Eight
CHAPTER EIGHT
The financial admin sat in her office, bent over a stack of papers, frowning. Roth rapped on the frame of the half open door. She looked up. “Doctor Garrett, come in, please.”
“Call me ‘Roth’.” He accepted her invitation. Moving a stack of mail from the only other chair to her desk, he sat. “I want to make a donation, but I don’t want anyone here to know. Can you just deposit a check and not talk about it?”
“Certainly.” She pushed a wisp of long blond hair from her face. Several other escaped tendrils had pulled from her starkly knotted up tresses. He noticed she appeared very tired. “Although, you’re already donating your time, and that’s enough.”
Handing her the envelope, Roth said, “It’s an annual thing I do for someone I loved very much and lost.”
“Okay. Then, Merry Christmas.”
He offered her his hand, repeating, “Roth.”
She accepted, “Thank you, Roth.”
He left before she opened it and saw the amount. Having the luck to enter the world a member of a vastly wealthy family granted him privileges he appreciated every day. Not only did it seem fitting to pass along financial aid to another, it felt good.
Walking to the kitchen, he saw Joseph working alongside Patty. The young man looked up from his task, single bright eye shining with gladness and welcome. “I missed you,” he called artlessly.
Roth chuckled. “I’m back. No more missing me.” For about an hour he helped in their labors. Making dressing for three hundred presented monumental difficulties.
Joseph spoke to him as they chopped a seemingly endless amount of celery and mushrooms. “Usually, we’ve bought turkeys by now. This year, there’s almost no money.”
Roth thought about the check for ten grand he’d given. “Maybe it’ll just come a little later this year.”
After he had finished in the kitchen, he volunteered to mop the men’s locker room again. He’d almost completed the job when Adam shoved open the door like John Wayne hitting the saloon doors in a western. “Heard you’d come back.”
Roth’s heart jerked in his chest. “Getting in some time before spending the holiday with my family.”
“Must be nice having people to go home to.”
Glancing up, Roth returned, “Guess you don’t have people if you can just dump your past.”
“Who the fuck are you?”
Roth bided his time as the other man attacked. He caught Adam’s hands with much difficulty and shoved the other man against the hard tile wall. Staring into those large violet eyes, he said, “Someone who wants to know you.”
“Who looked at me?”
The verbiage rang alert bells. Roth eased his hold. “You ex military?”
“You don’t know?” Adam seemed vulnerable and uncertain.
He dropped his hands. “I just know Adam Reed sprung up in a paper trail four years ago.” His heart performed several gymnastic feats as his gaze moved over his mystery man. “Talk to me.”
“My name is Adam.” In that musical voice, he continued, “If you want to follow me, we can go to my place.”
Roth parked on the street. Adam, in an economy Saturn, pulled into the numbered slot at the parking lot’s edge. Getting from his vehicle, Roth set the alarm and walked to join Adam. The apartment building looked neat and well-maintained. Roth chivvied the other man up a flight of exterior concrete stairs to his door.
Adam plied his keys. The door swung wide to reveal a stark living space. Roth walked in behind his on-and-off lover. Gazing around, he remarked, “You really live here?”
No art or pictures hung on the stark white walls, vertical blinds only on the single window, and the clean tile floor didn’t host a single rug. A simple tan couch sat in the living room area, and a small efficiency kitchen off it through an arched doorway looked just as austere. The fridge didn’t have a magnet on it, and the door leading from the small main area stood closed.
The beautiful man closed the door, murmuring, “I sleep here.”
Even the acoustics sounded lonely. “Can I see where?”
“Help yourself.” Adam came to stand mid room, keys in hand.
Roth walked over to the door, grasped the knob and slowly turned it. The panel opened to reveal a small bedroom. Entering, he looked around, seeing a full-size bed that Adam’s body must dwarf, made neatly with a white comforter, and a chest of drawers. A small bathroom with more bleak white tile and a tiny closet filled with so few belongings it didn’t seem cramped, completed the place.
Leaving the desolate bedroom, he closed the door behind himself. Very quietly, he queried, “Are you in some kind of trouble?”
Adam shook his head. Even the low light shone upon his almost reflectively shiny, drawn-back black hair. “Not anymore.”
“What happened to you?” Roth eased closer, reaching out to take the other man’s hand in his. “Talk to me.”
“My dad was a DA in Denver. He followed some leads and uncovered a ring of organized crime with connections going up to a Senator. While he worked making the case, he, my mother and little sister died in a car crash caused by a hit and run driver never found.” The detached tone told Roth far than the actual words. He had seen enough traumatized people with grief frozen inside them to recognize it. Adam stared at the keys in his hand as if he couldn’t understand how they arrived there. “His best friends, a cop and a coroner, faked accident reports and my death certificate. The fact the car burned made it easy. And, data wasn’t so closely examined then.”
“Where were you?”
“My dad had pulled over.” His arched black eyebrows lowered a little in concentrated recall. “I used to get car sick. He let me out, then pulled forward along the shoulder about forty feet to preserve my dignity. The other car came up behind us, slowed and rounded the corner, then came back, swerved and sent our sedan over the embankment. Shatter of glass. Screech of metal. Flames.” Pausing, Adam then whispered. “I hid until I saw a familiar face. That’s when Bradley, the cop, scooped me up and hid me in the trunk of his cruiser.”
Roth stepped closer, cautiously invading Adam’s guarded personal space. This kind of intimacy might spook him. “Lots of time between then and four years ago.”
Adam met Roth’s gaze. “Bradley and Stephanie, the coroner, co-raised me in secret.”
Gently, he prompted, “What happened as you became a man?”
Adam’s beauty seemed more pronounced in the Spartan space. Something terrible and painful flashed in his glorious violet eyes. “The FBI recruited me as a ghost, to become a killer.”
The financial admin sat in her office, bent over a stack of papers, frowning. Roth rapped on the frame of the half open door. She looked up. “Doctor Garrett, come in, please.”
“Call me ‘Roth’.” He accepted her invitation. Moving a stack of mail from the only other chair to her desk, he sat. “I want to make a donation, but I don’t want anyone here to know. Can you just deposit a check and not talk about it?”
“Certainly.” She pushed a wisp of long blond hair from her face. Several other escaped tendrils had pulled from her starkly knotted up tresses. He noticed she appeared very tired. “Although, you’re already donating your time, and that’s enough.”
Handing her the envelope, Roth said, “It’s an annual thing I do for someone I loved very much and lost.”
“Okay. Then, Merry Christmas.”
He offered her his hand, repeating, “Roth.”
She accepted, “Thank you, Roth.”
He left before she opened it and saw the amount. Having the luck to enter the world a member of a vastly wealthy family granted him privileges he appreciated every day. Not only did it seem fitting to pass along financial aid to another, it felt good.
Walking to the kitchen, he saw Joseph working alongside Patty. The young man looked up from his task, single bright eye shining with gladness and welcome. “I missed you,” he called artlessly.
Roth chuckled. “I’m back. No more missing me.” For about an hour he helped in their labors. Making dressing for three hundred presented monumental difficulties.
Joseph spoke to him as they chopped a seemingly endless amount of celery and mushrooms. “Usually, we’ve bought turkeys by now. This year, there’s almost no money.”
Roth thought about the check for ten grand he’d given. “Maybe it’ll just come a little later this year.”
After he had finished in the kitchen, he volunteered to mop the men’s locker room again. He’d almost completed the job when Adam shoved open the door like John Wayne hitting the saloon doors in a western. “Heard you’d come back.”
Roth’s heart jerked in his chest. “Getting in some time before spending the holiday with my family.”
“Must be nice having people to go home to.”
Glancing up, Roth returned, “Guess you don’t have people if you can just dump your past.”
“Who the fuck are you?”
Roth bided his time as the other man attacked. He caught Adam’s hands with much difficulty and shoved the other man against the hard tile wall. Staring into those large violet eyes, he said, “Someone who wants to know you.”
“Who looked at me?”
The verbiage rang alert bells. Roth eased his hold. “You ex military?”
“You don’t know?” Adam seemed vulnerable and uncertain.
He dropped his hands. “I just know Adam Reed sprung up in a paper trail four years ago.” His heart performed several gymnastic feats as his gaze moved over his mystery man. “Talk to me.”
“My name is Adam.” In that musical voice, he continued, “If you want to follow me, we can go to my place.”
Roth parked on the street. Adam, in an economy Saturn, pulled into the numbered slot at the parking lot’s edge. Getting from his vehicle, Roth set the alarm and walked to join Adam. The apartment building looked neat and well-maintained. Roth chivvied the other man up a flight of exterior concrete stairs to his door.
Adam plied his keys. The door swung wide to reveal a stark living space. Roth walked in behind his on-and-off lover. Gazing around, he remarked, “You really live here?”
No art or pictures hung on the stark white walls, vertical blinds only on the single window, and the clean tile floor didn’t host a single rug. A simple tan couch sat in the living room area, and a small efficiency kitchen off it through an arched doorway looked just as austere. The fridge didn’t have a magnet on it, and the door leading from the small main area stood closed.
The beautiful man closed the door, murmuring, “I sleep here.”
Even the acoustics sounded lonely. “Can I see where?”
“Help yourself.” Adam came to stand mid room, keys in hand.
Roth walked over to the door, grasped the knob and slowly turned it. The panel opened to reveal a small bedroom. Entering, he looked around, seeing a full-size bed that Adam’s body must dwarf, made neatly with a white comforter, and a chest of drawers. A small bathroom with more bleak white tile and a tiny closet filled with so few belongings it didn’t seem cramped, completed the place.
Leaving the desolate bedroom, he closed the door behind himself. Very quietly, he queried, “Are you in some kind of trouble?”
Adam shook his head. Even the low light shone upon his almost reflectively shiny, drawn-back black hair. “Not anymore.”
“What happened to you?” Roth eased closer, reaching out to take the other man’s hand in his. “Talk to me.”
“My dad was a DA in Denver. He followed some leads and uncovered a ring of organized crime with connections going up to a Senator. While he worked making the case, he, my mother and little sister died in a car crash caused by a hit and run driver never found.” The detached tone told Roth far than the actual words. He had seen enough traumatized people with grief frozen inside them to recognize it. Adam stared at the keys in his hand as if he couldn’t understand how they arrived there. “His best friends, a cop and a coroner, faked accident reports and my death certificate. The fact the car burned made it easy. And, data wasn’t so closely examined then.”
“Where were you?”
“My dad had pulled over.” His arched black eyebrows lowered a little in concentrated recall. “I used to get car sick. He let me out, then pulled forward along the shoulder about forty feet to preserve my dignity. The other car came up behind us, slowed and rounded the corner, then came back, swerved and sent our sedan over the embankment. Shatter of glass. Screech of metal. Flames.” Pausing, Adam then whispered. “I hid until I saw a familiar face. That’s when Bradley, the cop, scooped me up and hid me in the trunk of his cruiser.”
Roth stepped closer, cautiously invading Adam’s guarded personal space. This kind of intimacy might spook him. “Lots of time between then and four years ago.”
Adam met Roth’s gaze. “Bradley and Stephanie, the coroner, co-raised me in secret.”
Gently, he prompted, “What happened as you became a man?”
Adam’s beauty seemed more pronounced in the Spartan space. Something terrible and painful flashed in his glorious violet eyes. “The FBI recruited me as a ghost, to become a killer.”