Walking the Blue Line
From Hot Cops, Cleis Press and edited by Shane Allison.
You never know what you’re gonna hear when you’re eavesdropping. It could be anything: the innocuous plans of a domestic duo, a hushed confession, a quick make-out session.
A low-voiced threat.
A Sunday morning, probably six o’clock or so. The rave was over, the partiers taking off in loud cars, their engines gunning and tires squealing as they left the warehouse in downtown Jacksonville. Up in the warehouse office, I heard the thump of equipment cases being slammed shut, imagined some of the guys squatting and hefting the big speakers from the four corners of the room. I should have been down there; it was my job to be humping some of that weight but I was SO tired.
Tired of doing these damned all-nighters. At twenty-eight, I looked young, all blonde hair and boyish features that let me get away with infiltrating a college dorm or a ravemaster’s street crew. But I was in over my head on this undercover op and floundering.
That morning, I was on the sofa in the warehouse office and I heard the door rattle open. Jason’s voice, a little breathless and high-pitched and then Conrad’s murmuring, low as a foghorn, sexy as hell.
Jason was one of the kids who hung around the crew. Barely out of high school, with a kid’s swash of acne across his forehead and a wispy goatee. He had a crush on Conrad that was nearly painful to watch. Fixing Conrad’s cranberry juice drinks, making sure the DJ booth was swept clean, rubbing Conrad’s shoulders and neck if Donalita wasn’t around, and sometimes, even if she was.
I lifted my head and could see them through the tangle on the equipment table and boxes stacked around the room. Jason grabbed Conrad’s hand and did a twirl under his arm, giggling, off-balance.
Conrad spoke, his deep voice solemn. “Jason, you are stoned, my man.”
“I’m not!”
“Did you have a little party tonight with Marcos?”
“Maybe.” Jason stumbled against Conrad’s broad chest, laughing. “Maybe not.”
Conrad put both hands on Jason’s head and held him still. “I told you about that shit. You shouldn’t be messing with Marcos and his supplies.”
“Screw Marcos.”
“No thanks.” Conrad smiled.
“Then how about me?” Jason surged upwards and planted his mouth against Conrad’s. “Please, I love you so much, Conrad. I just wanna be with you.”
Conrad elbowed him back. “Whoa, whoa. Jason, stop.” He forced Jason away.
© 2006. Vincent Diamond. Reprint rights available.