On The Line

Chapter 8: Eighth Circle of He

”Well, if it isn’t Little Mary Sunshine.”

“Little Mary Sunshine died. I’m Little Mary Go Fuck Yourself.”

Michael and Emmett in Queer as Folk



The Day After. Edward had always thought that the term stood for the world after the Nuclear Worst Case Scenario, but somehow it seemed to fit. A little over the top, maybe, but somehow it seemed that a nuclear out-pour couldn’t have been more devastating – at least not for him.



He got dressed with great care, made sure he wore his most expensive suit and the handmade pair of shoes that were soft as silk, and then he drove to the precinct. For a moment he wondered if maybe the French aristocracy might have felt like this when they had been summoned to the Guillotine, but then dismissed the thought. It wouldn’t help to become overly dramatic. He needed to keep it together. Now more than ever.



O’Neill grinned when he entered the station, made a remark about the weather and then reminded him that his nephew was still looking for a life-partner. Edward found a grin somewhere and leaned closer to the man. “How old is he again?”



O’Neill sighed. “I told you, twenty-two. But he’s very mature for his age, took care of his mother ever since that scumbag of a father left them when he was ten years old.”



“And I told you before that I’m not into chicken.” Shit. If someone had told him he’d be joking about gay partnerships with a police officer, he’d have told them to take their meds. But damn, it felt good to do it. O’Neill, for all his Irish bravado, was a thoroughly decent person who cared deeply for his family.



O’Neill gave him a look. “Chicken? Son, from where I stand you’re a chicken.”



“Yeah, well. But I’m not planning to date you.”



“True. Besides, the wife wouldn’t stand for it.” It came out so dead-pan that Edward had to cough.



“Fuck. Don’t say stuff like that O’Neill, or you’ll ruin my sexual performance forever.”



O’Neill cackled at that, then put one of his hands on Edward’s shoulder. “Think about it. Being alone isn’t good for a man. And now, go and catch the bad guys.”



Edward grinned at him again, then with a wave walked through the swinging doors that led to the detectives’ section of the precinct.



Karen saw him at once and gave him a welcoming smile. “Hey.” Then her smile slipped. “You look dreadful. Did you go out clubbing or something? Honey, you shouldn’t do stuff like that – at your age.” Now the grin was back.



Edward looked at her from narrowed eyes. “You are a fountain of loveliness today,” he grumbled. Maybe he should start to get really worried. It was the second time someone had referred to his age. This could only mean doom.



She tilted her head. “Don’t tell me your facial cream ran out?”



“Be careful,” he warned. “If you keep insulting me, I might feel inclined to comment on your clothes.” He let his eyes wander down, then back up. Karen was wearing a pair of baggy jeans and a shirt that was at least two sizes too big. “And I can already tell you that you won’t like that.”



“Bitch,” she said mildly and picked up a file to hold it out for him. “Here. Read this. We might have a new victim.”



Fuck. “You sure?” Edward took the file with slightly shaking hands. But he could feel nothing. Not one damn thing.



“Are you?”



He opened the file and stared into another pair of light blue eyes, a handsome face that was framed by blond curls. “How old?”



Karen’s face was a mask. “Nineteen. His twin brother reported him missing.”



Edward could look at the pictures without feeling the familiar emotions running through his body. Which meant there was no corpse. Yet.



“They wanted to meet for lunch, only Nick,” Karen pointed at the file, “never showed. They’re identical twins, Nick is the younger by twenty minutes. His brother is very worried. According to him, Nick is punctual and never misses stuff like that.”



“And he fits the profile,” Edward added. Nothing better than a case to forget about your own problems. Compared to this, his encounter with Michael Castellani was nothing.



“He most definitely fits the profile. The brothers are both freshmen. They took a year off after high-school, touring Europe.”



“Is he gay?”



“Yes.” Karen grinned slightly. “They both are.”



Really? How interesting. “Their parents must have been thrilled.” Edward suddenly had an image in his head of fucking a pair of identical twins. They had been from Italy, both tall and dark-haired. Oh yes, it had been a very special experience. He wondered if Nick and his brother did the same. Look for a fuckable guy, then share him. At their age – probably.



“According to Daniel – he’s the twin - they took it pretty much in stride.” She leaned toward him. “Not all parents are assholes like yours, Edward.”



He swallowed the rush of gratitude he felt at her words and kept his face carefully blank instead. “Unfortunately my experience has taught me that too many are. The suicide rate among gay teens is at least ten times as high as you would find it with regular kids.”



“I know,” Karen said softly. “And you know how I feel about that.”



“Yeah.” He didn’t care that his voice was rough with emotion. “Yeah. But not enough do. Most people don’t care at all.”



“Care at all about what?”



“Boss.” Karen stood up. “Edward thinks the kid is still alive.” She really looked ridiculous in her clothes.



Phillips, however, didn’t just smell extra fine this morning, he was also impeccably dressed in a charcoal-gray sweater and matching pants which went very well with the silver in his hair. It gave him a classical debonair flair. But today Edward noticed all that with a strange feeling of detachment. There was only the slightest hint of sexual awareness involved. After his encounter with Michael, he was not in the mood for anything.



Phillips turned to Edward. “Are you sure?”



Edward shrugged. “As sure as I can be. I told you before, it’s not an exact science.”



“No. But you haven’t been wrong so far, so I’ll trust your senses.”



Edward swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat. “The fact that he is alive still holds the possibility that he is being tortured, maybe raped, this very moment.”



Phillips face turned grave. “I’m aware of that.” He turned back to Karen. “Any leads?”



She sighed. “Not yet. I talked to some of the kids he usually hangs out with, but nobody saw anything. The usual.”



Phillips looked around. “Where is Castellani?”



“On his way,” Karen was quick to assure him. “He called a few minutes ago and told me he had some news.”



“Well, let’s hope they’re good ones.”



“The best.”



If Edward hadn’t been distracted by the file in his hand and the possibility of a nineteen year old boy being tortured, he might have felt it. As it was, he had to work on his facial expression before he could turn around and look at Michael, who stood a few steps behind him with a big grin on his face.



Karen walked over to him. “Well?”



“You won’t believe it, but,” he paused as if making sure that everyone was listening with rapt attention, “Anna and I got engaged. We’re getting married in six weeks.”



+++



So the guy was getting married. So what? It shouldn’t bother him, Edward told himself when he entered the evidence locker. But, shit, it did. It did bother him and he didn’t like that at all. For one, it was a nuisance, and then – well, Michael Castellani might not be as straight as he’d made himself believe, but that didn’t mean he’d jump with joy just because he and Edward had gotten each other off in an almost violent dance in Edward’s home. Which could lead to a very unpleasant and therefore unproductive work atmosphere.



There was also a third point, but Edward didn’t care to think about that. .



Fuck.



He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. As if the whole disaster with Xavier hadn’t been bad enough.



The door opened and Edward let out a little breath when he saw Karen come inside. “Ah,” she said with a knowing smile, “here you are. I was wondering where you were hiding.”



“I’m not hiding.” It wasn’t a complete lie. “I just thought I should take another look at the evidence. I mean, with all the excitement about his upcoming nuptials, Michael probably won’t have time for the mere facts of his job.” Shit, he sounded all snippy. He had to get a grip on himself – and fast.



Karen’s brows went way up. “Michael. I see.”



His eyes narrowed. “There is nothing to see.”



She gave him a look. “Fine. Have it your way.” She turned as if wanting to leave, but stopped again. “You know. This whole thing is fucked.”



Edward sighed. “And you’ll probably elaborate now?”



“Mike. I mean. He and Anna break up. He tells me that they drifted apart. That he doesn’t feel for her the way he used to. And all of a sudden they‘re engaged to be married. It just doesn’t add up.”



No. It certainly didn’t. At least not for her. For Edward it made perfect sense. Of course, he couldn’t tell her that.



Karen cocked her head. “So – what did you do?”



“Uhm … me?” And shit, if his voice hadn’t gone up an octave.



“Don’t try that with me.” Her eyes narrowed. “Oh no. Don’t tell me you fucked him?”



Or maybe he didn’t have to tell her, because she had mind reading abilities and already knew.



Edward ran a slightly shaky hand through his hair. “We sort of fucked each other.”



“Fuck. Edward!”



“What?” he snapped. “Why am I the guilty one here?”



“Because!”



Now that made perfect sense.



“Because?”



“You are the gay guy.”



“So that makes me an asshole?” Okay, he was an asshole, but still.



“Yes!” she said forcefully, then let out a sigh. “No. Look. Why did you have to do it?”



He stared at her. “What? You want me to explain to you how the birds and bees work next?” She couldn’t be serious. Karen was a straight woman, not stupid. She knew how these things happened. Had to.



Now her eyes became huge. “He wanted it? Mike?”



Edward shook his head. This couldn’t be happening. Who was he? A fifteen year old confessing to his mother? And thank God, it had never actually happened, because that would have been too awful for words.



“Mike is straight.”



“Yeah, keep telling him that.” He snorted. “Especially after he slammed me against my wall. Right.”



“Holy shit.” Karen stared at him, clearly flabbergasted. “Holy, holy shit.”



“You’re having one hell of a religious experience, obviously. But no, Michael isn’t straight. He is deeply closeted, but straight spells differently in my dictionary.”



And what the fuck was he doing here? Since when had he started gossiping about his lays – if you could even call it that? Rutting against each other like animals would be the better description. Not that it hadn’t been pleasant. Because, hell, it had been. The real irony was, he hadn’t come so hard in a very long time. With Michael Castellani of all people.



“I’m sorry,” Karen said after a while. “Just … I’m having a hard time processing all this. I slept with the guy after all, and everything seemed to work the way it should.”



Edward had to grin. “I could fuck you. I mean … you’re attractive. Well, maybe not in these clothes-“



He ducked away when Karen mock-attempted to slap him. “I’m starting to show,” she said. “And I don’t want anyone to know – yet.”



“How is that hunky husband of yours?” he inquired. “The one you are so viciously keeping away from me.”



“And will continue to do so now that I know that you have the power to turn even the straightest man gay.”



He laughed. “Karen, honestly. Michael isn’t straight. Never was. He might be bi.”



“What a relief. So I can now tell myself that I wasn’t just someone to keep his closet door tightly shut.”



“If you want,” Edward leaned close to her, “I could sacrifice myself. You know, testing the gayness factor of your husband.”



He grinned broadly when she tried to slap him again. “Don’t you dare.” Karen sighed. “Poor Anna. She is really nice, you know. She doesn’t deserve to be used that way.”



He shrugged. “Maybe he isn’t using her. If he’s bi…”



“Right. He has sex with you and the next day he proposes to his ex. Yes, I’m sure it’s because while fucking you he suddenly realized his undying love for her.”



Edward grimaced. That sounded about right. Then something occurred to him. “Karen. You can’t go and talk to her.”



“But-“



“No,” he said firmly. “That’s none of your business. Promise me you won’t interfere. Shit, I shouldn’t have told you anything in the first place.” Fuck. Why couldn’t he have kept his mouth shut. But in his own defense, he was still reeling from yesterday’s encounter. There was no other explanation for his suddenly loose tongue.



“No, it was good you told me,” she assured him so earnestly that Edward felt his stomach start to churn. She had that unholy glint in her eyes he had seen before, during the first time they’d worked together on a case. It never boded well.



“Karen-“



“I promise,” she said finally. “Swear, if you want. But it’s still good to know. Maybe I can give Mike a few pointers.”



“Pointers?” Damn. “Karen, listen to me.” He took her hand and made sure she was paying attention. “Michael is not in a very good place right now. And any interference from your side might make it worse. Yes, he might be using Anna, but he needs to sort out things for himself. Do you understand that?”



“Yes. Yes, I do.” She nodded. But the unholy glint was still there. She pulled her hand away from him and patted his shoulder. “And I promise to be very careful. Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.” She smiled at him, almost sweetly, then left before he had the chance to say another word.



“Fuck!” he shouted – but only the evidence boxes were listening.



+++



“Mama!”



This time the dread Michael felt when he entered his parents’ home was a different one. But it was deep inside him, while on the surface everything was fine. He smiled when his mother came rushing out from the kitchen all smiles and shiny eyes.



“Michael.” She wrapped her arms around him and he felt like the little boy she had hugged all the time. “Such wonderful news.”



So Anna had already spread the news. As Michael had known she would.



His mother pulled back. “You made me so happy, Michael. So happy.” She wiped her eyes, but her smile was bright. “But six weeks. Michael – how will I ever manage?” She took his arm and pulled him into the kitchen with her. “I already called Carla. She is just as overwhelmed as I am.”



Carla was Anna’s mother. She had been his own mother’s best friend since high school and he could only imagine how the two of them were already planning the wedding. Or rather, he preferred not to imagine anything.



His thoughts were busy enough as it was.



“Where’s Papa?” he asked, while his mother was preparing pesto.



She threw up her hands. “Who knows. He met up with his friends.” She looked at him. “He’s been in a strange mood ever since he heard about you and Anna.” She shrugged. “I will be an old woman and still won’t understand that man. He should be over the moon, instead he is muttering about.”



Shit. Michael quickly turned away from his mother. She was occupied with her work, but she knew him well and he wasn’t sure he could hide the spark of uneasiness he had felt at her remark.



He shouldn’t be surprised by his father’s reaction to the news. Deep inside he had already known this wouldn’t go over well with his old man. His father had some strange ideas when it came to him. If he knew about what his son had done yesterday with another man … Michael didn’t even want to think about what could happen.



“Well,” he said finally. “You know Papa.”



“He’ll be no help in all this, that much is certain,” his mother said, but she didn’t sound upset. “Anna said you already chose a church. I was hoping you would want to get married at Father Daniele’s church.”



Father Daniele. He was his mother’s favorite priest.



He wasn’t Michael’s.



He felt a stab in the pit of his stomach and sucked in a sharp breath to hold it together. He could not think about the man. He could not let Father Daniele rule his life – not again.



He swallowed hard against the bile in his throat.



“Anna wants Father Thomas.”



“He’s Irish.”



It sounded as if being Irish was a mortal sin.



“Anna and Thomas were in school together, Mama. They’ve known each other forever.” And, God, was he ever grateful for that.



His mother snorted, but had obviously decided to let it go. “We need to talk about the guests. How many are you and Anna expecting? Who do you want to invite? What about food? The cake? Oh, Michael, we are never going to manage in just six weeks.” Her expression was almost tragic, and Michael suppressed a grin.



“You need to ask Anna. I’m the groom. Which means I will turn up in time, make sure my best man has the rings – everything else is up to the women.”



He danced back when his mother threatened him with her spoon that was dripping with something oily and green. She looked down at the drops on the ground. “Now see what you made me do?”



“Me?” He held up his hands. “I did nothing. You were threatening your own flesh and blood with dangerous cooking instruments.”



“Who’s trying to kill my little brother?”



Michael almost managed not to look annoyed when his oldest sister swept into the kitchen, gave him a stern look, then proceeded to kiss her mother on the cheek. “Is he being a naughty boy again, Mama?”



“Hello, my darling girl. How are you? And how is my new grandchild?” Luciana Castellani reached out and put a gentle hand on her oldest daughter’s round stomach. “I think you might have grown again.”



“I'm fat,” his sister Lucia said with an air of disgust. “Pietro calls me beautiful. I almost hit him last night.”



Luciana laughed in delight. “He loves you.”



“So he says. But would he do this to me if he really loved me?”



Michael swallowed when he realized the question was directed at him. How could he get out of this with all his parts still attached to him? “Uhm.”



His sister snorted. “Yes. It’s just what I expected from you, imbecile! How you ever managed to catch yourself a woman as beautiful and smart as Anna will always be a mystery to me.”



“Must be my irresistible charm,” he joked and thought of a pair of blue eyes that were definitely not Anna’s. Damnit. He had to stop thinking about Edward St. John. The guy was a major asshole and he should keep remembering that.



“Charm?” she scoffed and looked at their mother. “I blame you, you know. You made him believe he’s something special.”



“He is special,” Luciana said and smiled fondly at her son.



Aw, shit. It was just what he needed. As if he didn’t feel enough of an asshole already. “Mama, please,” he said and tried to keep any expression off his face.



“What? Anna should thank God that she’s getting you.”



His mother was serious.



Michael had to turn away. He didn’t want to talk about God. And most certainly not in connection with Anna and gratitude. Besides, he had stopped believing in God a long time ago. His mother didn’t know, and he would make sure she never would, but it was a fact. He and God had stopped being on speaking terms when he had gone to church and found Father Daniele standing behind Angelo.



At first Michael hadn’t understood what was happening there, but then he had heard the grunts and the moans and he had known. He remembered the horror and disgust he had felt at the sight of the priest and his friend rutting like animals. He’d run home where he’d told his grandmother about what he’d seen.



Only a few weeks later Angelo and his family had moved away, after Angelo had been outed by rumors that kept spreading in wider and wider circles. Today Michael knew that his grandmother had been the origin of those rumors, and a part of him felt disgusted while another part remembered her gentle hands and her sweet voice while falling asleep when he was still a baby.



“Are you okay?”



Lucia’s hands were almost like his grandmother’s and he stepped away, unable to stand her touch.



Father Daniele had continued his duties and nobody ever mentioned what had occurred between him and Angelo Boldone, who had been thirteen years old at the time. Obviously, his grandmother hadn’t found the priest guilty of any sin.



“I need to go,” Michael said quickly and left the kitchen. “I just remembered I forgot something.”



He left the house without waiting for their reply. He needed to get away. Or he might vomit all over his mother’s kitchen floor.



To be continued …