Dating Rules and Pretty Fools Chapter 23
Dating Rules And Pretty Fools – Ch. 23
By Laura S. Fox
Copyright © 2024 Laura S. Fox
All Rights Reserved
Gay Erotica
Intended for Mature Audiences Only
This story will contain graphic depictions of sexual intercourse, strong language and it is not meant for readers who are less than 18 years of age.
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Chapter Twenty-Three – Boiling Frog
The screen burned his eyes. Hudson passed one hand over them and stifled a yawn. Sleep could wait; when there were such bad people at work, he couldn't succumb to the temptation of lying down on his cramped sofa for a nap. The chances were he wouldn't wake up until morning, and he hoped to get at least some information on what cave Gideon Keres had crawled out of.
As expected, searching for the name only led to very few results, and the people who happened to share the man's name – if that was his real name – had nothing in common with him, at least at first glance. Hudson's belief was that everyone had to come from somewhere, and sure as hell, the evil mind behind the murders that had tortured his sleep lately couldn't have materialized out of thin air.
He gave up on his searches related only to the name in favor of poring over a long list of horrible crimes from decades ago. Good thing that he could access the police database like this. Back in the day, other detectives didn't enjoy the same luxuries offered by technology as he had access to now. At first, he searched through crimes that had happened in the area that could have led to Keres's horrible disfigurement, but he realized that he needed to expand it beyond the local list of terrible events.
At one point, he believed he had found a thread. The presentation of the facts was as chilling as heart wrenching. A boy of twelve had been extracted from the ruins of an old building, and the doctors had thought he wouldn't survive. Miraculously, he had come back to life, and the police had noted that some of his extensive injuries couldn't have come from the building collapsing on top of him. There were suspicions of foul play, but the investigation that followed led to nothing conclusive. Hudson leafed through all the information available, but there was no mention of the victim having been interviewed in regard to his accident. No mentions of legal guardians being interviewed were there, either. The logical conclusion was that the victim was in no condition to be questioned, and no parents or other adults responsible for the boy's care had come out of the woodwork. The victim remained nameless and was integrated into the system, given a name eventually. Hudson needed to find out more, although there was one element that didn't fit and discouraged him in pursuing this line of investigation. The horrible accident had taken place only ten years prior, and Gideon Keres was definitely older than twenty-two.
That concluded his first foray into the search on the man controlling Twinlight and Till The Sweet End. He hadn't expected to have any conclusive results from the start, but the taste of disappointment was still bitter. Of course, a man like Gideon Keres wouldn't have an Instagram or a Facebook account, but no mention of such an affluent investor in the local press was a bad sign.
Keres knew how to conceal himself, in plain sight even. Hudson suspected that the man's operations – financial and otherwise – were carefully covered so that no suspicions would arise. However, contacting Gavin and having the guy use his contacts to discover if some unusual investors had appeared lately on the government's radar was on his to do list. It was a long shot since financing a club most probably didn't count as that important a sum of cash to draw the attention of the highest powers investigating fraud and whatnot. Still, the money had to come from somewhere, and Hudson was very much interested in its provenance.
Bone-tired and disheartened by his lack of results, he collapsed on the sofa. Otis had truly noticed all the problems with it; it wasn't long enough so Hudson's legs went over and there was no healthy way for him to hold his head while sleeping. Probably, in the beginning, he had thought of bringing over a proper bed, but those thoughts had gone out the window the moment he had started working on the case. Once he got into that state, it was difficult for him to get back to what people considered normal, a normal that included things like the importance of getting proper sleep.
He checked the watch on his phone. Too bad he couldn't go knocking on Otis's door and slip into bed with him. That would have made everything better, Hudson thought, as exhaustion overtook him and he fell into a deep slumber.
When he woke in the morning, his head was pounding and it took him a good minute to realize that someone was knocking on the door. He groaned and managed to get to two feet and walk over. Halfway, he shifted to moving stealthily, as he always needed to check who was on the other side before answering.
He let out a breath of relief when he saw Otis waiting patiently in front of the door, unlike other times when he'd been quick to rush back to his apartment, afraid of disturbing his neighbor. Part of Hudson's tiredness, still not mended by his fitful sleep from the night before, disappeared at the sight of that pretty face. He quickly opened the door, anxious to see his boyfriend and forget, for a moment, about the actual reason he was there, forced to sleep badly and dream of putting bad guys away.
"Hi Otis," he said with a smile. "What's that?"
Otis lifted the casserole he was holding. "I made you some breakfast. Mini sandwiches. I thought you might want some."
"Definitely. Come on in. Do you have some time, or do you need to run to work?"
"No, not for some time. Are you sure I am not imposing?"
Hudson laughed and shook his head. "No. You are so polite. I'll leave you alone for a few minutes while I take a shower. You're not going to get bored, right?"
"I can examine those things on the wall some more."
"That works for me." Hudson took Otis's elbow gently and pulled him inside. "You're a godsend, you know? I'm so hungry I could eat a horse."
"That is a strange expression," Otis said. "I don't think horse meat could be very good, but I've never had any, so maybe I'm wrong. Also, I would feel badly about eating a horse."
"I suppose other people might not feel that bad, hence the saying. Don't worry. I will always eat what you make, and I know that there won't ever be horse on the menu."
***
Otis watched Hudson disappear into the bathroom and began looking around. While his neighbor and boyfriend wasn't particularly messy, the way the room looked suggested that Hudson had had a bad night. So, instead of examining the objects hanging on the wall, since he knew them all by now, he proceeded to open the window and tidy up the room. There were very few objects lying around, and Otis liked to believe that he had identified their correct places.
He stopped when he noticed the laptop. That had to be part of Hudson's equipment for work. Otis had heard about photo processing and he believed now that people in magazines were never as good looking as they appeared to be since there were so many tools professionals could use to make them look like they didn't have dark circles under their eyes, too much girth around the waist, or many other imperfections. Too bad there weren't tools for erasing such things in real life with the same ease.
Although, lately, and only because of Hudson, he hadn't worried as much about his scar. He touched it slowly, somewhat surprised to find it there still. With his boyfriend's admiration, Otis would have expected it to have magically disappeared, but things never worked that way. Was his scar as bad as before now that he didn't care about it the same?
That was a good question. Otis wondered if he could use Hudson's laptop to learn new words from the Internet, but then he recalled his grandma always telling him about respecting other people's property. That had been another thing he hadn't had one idea about, although he wasn't the kind to steal. He just liked beautiful things and wanted to touch them. The other kids in school, when he started going, looked so frightened when he attempted to do that.
Hudson's laptop remained untouched. Otis sat on the sofa to wait for his boyfriend to finish his shower. He did so just in time, as the bathroom door opened.
"Did I leave the room like this?"
Otis straightened up. Maybe that was overstepping, too. "I know all the things on your wall now. I thought I would tidy up since you are so busy with your work. But I can put them all back the way they were."
"No," Hudson said. "Thank you for doing that for me. And it's true. I had a long night, and I'm not the kind to bother that much with housekeeping. Can I have some of your delicious mini sandwiches?"
"Of course." Otis removed the lid and handed Hudson a napkin. "They are all yours."
"Damn, you should think about taking some courses to become a cook," Hudson suggested as he sank his teeth into the second sandwich. "I'm sure you would do well in that line of business. Maybe even at the restaurant where you're waiting tables at the moment. I bet they don't know the potential you have."
"You believe so? You do not just say these things because I'm your boyfriend and you must compliment me?"
"Cross my heart," Hudson promised. "Although I must compliment you all of the time, too. You deserve it."
Otis felt his cheeks warming up. Hudson had that effect on him. "Thank you," he said primly. To hide his embarrassment, he looked around the room, in the end his eyes came to rest on the laptop on the small table. "Did it take all night to transform pictures?"
"Transform?"
"Like using special brushes to make people look twenty years younger."
"Ah, I see. Something like that. It is hard work."
"Can you show me?"
Hudson stared at him, looking surprised, and then shook his head. "I'm dealing with naked men every day. I don't want to make you jealous."
"I am not jealous." Otis stopped himself in time. He wasn't supposed to needle and pry. "I understand that your work is important. I will not bother you with such questions again."
Hudson walked over to him and brushed his hair out of his eyes. "Hey, let's not get this serious. And you're the most beautiful guy I've ever met, anyway. Can I get a kiss?"
Otis nodded. He couldn't help thinking that Hudson wanted to avoid talking about his work, which could mean that he probably didn't enjoy it that much. At the same time, he was in no position to insist on learning more about it. After all, he had refused, when asked, to talk about his scar and how he had gotten it.
***
It felt disingenuous to refuse Otis point-blank like that, but Hudson didn't want his boyfriend anywhere near the things he was working on. Not that he didn't feel guilty about it. Even as Otis angled his head to accept his kiss and was an eager participant, Hudson could tell the other was disappointed at being refused like that. It looked like, lately, he was saying `no' to Otis more often than not.
Maybe once this ordeal was over, he thought, he would tell Otis everything. Hell, if he wanted their relationship to continue – and he definitely wanted that – there was no way he could keep the fact that he was an undercover cop under wraps. All right, so his beautiful guy would eventually learn the whole truth, but it could wait. Hudson had more pressing matters to attend to.
Nonetheless, since he felt the need to atone, he caressed Otis's cheek gently and said, "I'll sleep at your place tonight. How would you like that?"
"I would like it very much," Otis declared with enthusiasm. "You don't have to work as hard tonight?"
"I will work on finishing everything before coming home. Wise people say that it's not good to bring your work home with you, to your family."
Otis looked like he was about to ask another question, but, in the end, he only smiled. "But you work at home, too." He gestured around, to make a point.
Hudson laughed and kissed Otis on the forehead and the nose. "I'm afraid you're too smart for my own good."
"Should I be less smart?" Otis asked, visibly puzzled over such a thing.
"No. Stay the way you are. You don't have to change a thing, unless you want to."
That appeared to please his pretty neighbor and lover. "That sounds very good. And I believe you shouldn't change, either. Just know that I am not jealous that you work with so many sexy naked men. It is your job."
There was nothing else he could say to that, save for leaning over for another sweet kiss. His decision was made that very moment. Once the case was solved, he would tell Otis the whole truth and put himself at his mercy.
***
"How are things?" he asked with a self-imposed relaxed smile as he approached Jackie.
His reluctant partner was standing in front of Twinlight, chewing his nails and wearing a tired, haunted look on his young face. Gideon Keres had made a couple more jokes about the guy the day before, but in the end, he had told him that he was off the hook because he was way too old and also not that attractive once his clothes came off.
"I asked them to let me take care of Jasper. Vegas, man, I'm afraid they keep him on drugs all the freaking time."
"What did they say? Are they letting you? That would be a good idea."
"Yeah. It looks like Jasper is used to me. He needs to sleep a lot, and he mumbles in his sleep. He's upstairs," he said and pointed at the building where the club was located over his shoulder. "I only left him for a moment when I saw you coming."
"So, there are actual bedrooms on the upper floor?" Hudson asked, eyeing the face of the building.
"If you can call them that," Jackie said with a snort. "You're going to catch these bastards, right?"
"I'm on it. It's good that we know who's running the business now. We're getting closer. However, I will have to ask you to keep yourself together. What I need is solid proof, not just hunches. To nail bastards like them, serious work has to be done. What did Watkins tell you yesterday? I noticed that he stopped to talk to you before leaving."
Jackie shrugged and his eyes relaxed for a moment, losing some of their haunted quality. "I suppose it was his way of telling me that he was sorry or something. Not in those words, but I think that was his intention. Good thing I'm too old, right?"
"Any word on Angel?"
"Not that I heard of, but the boss wants to see you in his office and since I'm here to deliver that message, I got a chance to see you. I'm sort of scared shitless, man."
Hudson put a firm hand on Jackie's shoulder. "I get you, don't think I don't. But you're safe. Don't do anything rash or stupid. It's all I'm asking."
"Easy for you to say. So, once you have that solid proof or whatever, are there going to be special forces all over the place? Breaking down doors, things like that?"
"We are being watched," Hudson told a little lie. He needed Jackie to feel safe so that he didn't endanger the operation by letting fear get the best of him.
Jackie let out a sigh of relief. "Great, man. That's really good to know. Now go see the boss. It looks like he's counting more on you than me these days."
Hudson just nodded and patted Jackie on the back as he hurried into the club. He wondered what Watkins wanted to talk to him about.
***
Watkins had his back turned, along with his chair, when Hudson walked in. He seemed to have his eyes fixed on the red brick building in the back and didn't face his guest even after the door closed.
"Are you up for a special job?" he asked curtly.
"Sure. Tell me about it."
To his surprise, Watkins threw a set of keys at him over his shoulder without turning. "Go out through the back and into this building across the way. I will watch you climb the fire escape ladder. At the third floor, third door on the right. Go inside. The glass wall is a one way mirror. You know what I'm talking about. Like in--"
"Movies?"
"Interrogation rooms, I wanted to say."
"Okay," Hudson said, completely unperturbed on the surface.
"He cannot see or hear you," Watkins continued. "But there are means to rouse him. On your right, you will notice several levers. Use the second to send a soda can his way. He might be thirsty by now."
"Boss," Hudson began, "with all due respect, what's going on?"
Watkins finally turned in his seat and gave him a vague look of recognition. Unlike his usual behavior, he seemed lost in thought. "Just a bit of punishment for Angel, that's all. When he's angry, he's at his best. Don't worry, he'll get out of there eventually, and it's not his first time. Take pictures, Vegas, as I told you."
"Okay," Hudson said slowly. "What's the angle?"
"Trapped," Watkins said and the ghost of a smile passed over his face. "Tell me if you can do it. You must know by now that we're not your ordinary entertainment suppliers. The boys don't mind being pushed around a little bit. Like yesterday, with Jasper. As you can see, I've succeeded in bringing everyone back into the fold."
"It appears so, yes," Hudson said, acting his best to continue to seem surprised and puzzled.
Watkins stared at him with open hostility. "Are you having second thoughts? Is the pay not good enough?"
Hudson reacted as if roused from his sleep by an urgent order. "I'm on it, sir. You can count on me." He pointed at Watkins with the keys in his hand and hiked the camera bag up onto his shoulder. In a moment, he was out of the room. Like a good lap dog who knew better than to bite the hand feeding him.
***
The whole world seemed better since he had a boyfriend. Otis couldn't very well explain the sensation, but it was growing day after day. While yesterday had had its reasons to make him feel a little down as Hudson had needed to focus on his work, today was a different matter altogether. There was lightness in his bones, making him float around, from table to table, serving the usual patrons with a big smile on his face. Some of his good mood seemed able to be passed to others, who turned to him with their faces lit up by a happiness that didn't belong to them. It was like a fire that could keep others warm, Otis thought, as he felt prey to poetry.
He was halfway through his current orders when he almost crashed into Missy, who was coming from the opposite direction. "Aren't you happy?" His colleague smiled openly and her big hairdo wiggled as she sidestepped as if in a dance movement.
"I sure am," Otis admitted.
For unknown reasons, his eyes flicked to the big windows, at the world outside. The evening was setting in, and the weather was growing colder with each passing day. There was nothing out there to tinge his joyful feelings, but Otis still shivered slightly.
"Damn," Missy said, "is there something wrong with our AC? I suddenly felt a chill."
That had to be it. "Did you feel it, too?"
Missy rubbed her forearms vigorously. "A bit like that saying. You know, that someone's walking over your grave?"
"What a strange saying," Otis remarked. But one that described that sudden jolt he had just experienced earlier down to a tee. He would search for its exact meaning at home.
His grandma had told him on more than one occasion that he didn't have to let himself fall prey to a state of melancholy only because the past had ugliness in it. Only this kind of situation that Otis couldn't describe very well wasn't the past. It was actually... nothing if he thought about it a little more. And that meant he had no reason to let it shadow his happiness. With that thought in mind, he continued his floating routine around the tables.
***
He fought the temptation to look toward the Twinlight building as he walked up the fire escape at a steady pace. That room, as Jackie had recalled it, must have been Angel's fate, after all. But why? If only he could communicate with the guy, but that seemed unlikely. Hudson was beyond certain that his moves would be observed by a concealed eye all the time. The noose was only getting tighter, with Angel's life on the line now, too.
What if there was something else afoot? The investigator in him needed to base all conclusions, even transitory ones, on a thorough examination of the facts from all angles. For all he knew, Angel could be in on it. He could put on a show for Hudson, at Watkins's orders; after all, he had proven during their first encounter that he could be one hell of an actor. Also, Hudson didn't feel that the theory there had been a falling out between Watkins and Angel could stand on two legs.
His gut instinct didn't pull him in either direction. It was sitting this one out, which meant that Hudson had to rely strictly on what his intellect was telling him about it all.
Once inside the building, he stopped on the landing for only a moment so that he could throw a furtive look back to locate the window to Watkins's office, through which the scumbag was often staring at this other building. How many young men had he kept in here? Hudson wondered. These old buildings housed renters from all walks of life, and it didn't strike him as particularly out of the ordinary that a man like Watkins chose it for his nefarious plans. What did surprise him, however, was the nerve of the guy to be so bold as to have it so close to his so-called legitimate business.
He entered the place using one of the two keys in the set. What was the second for? Staring at the grated metal door that separated more than half of the apartment from the rest, he knew that he had his answer. A short hall followed and then he was in front of the one-way mirror.
The mirror being, obviously, on the other side so that Angel could watch himself go through all his stages of grief. He didn't hear Hudson at all, that much was clear, because he was lying on one side, curled on the floor, his back to the wall separating him from whoever was watching him. Hudson prepared his camera, acting as he might very well be expected to act, given the abnormal nature of his task. He looked around, shrugged his shoulders and lifted the camera to take a few shots of the naked man on the other side.
He stopped and pretended that he was checking the photos he had taken so far, as his eyes darted sideways to the levers. There were three of them, and he only knew what one did. What were the other two for?
Throughout his career as a detective, he had seen a lot of bad things and met plenty of questionable characters. But this case was taking him over in ways that made his skin crawl. His only saving grace was having Otis at home to stave off the darkness.
He shook his head. He didn't want to think of his innocent, beautiful boyfriend while he was in a place like this. The separating wall must have been erected some time ago, as his eyes searched for signs of an earlier construction project, finishing touches that might point out at a worker having done it recently. That could only mean that this wasn't the first time Watkins had kept someone there. The conversation he'd had with Jackie on the topic had told him as much.
That also meant that the unusual project must have been handled by someone – a company, or at least a group of people – and Hudson's bet was on the same name or names now handling the furbishing at Till The Sweet End. That was one trail he could follow.
His gut roiled as he reached for the second lever, knowing in advance or at least guessing what display of human misery he would soon witness. The room where Angel was kept was well soundproofed, because he only saw the soda can rolling on the floor. However, the captive could hear it very well because he jerked from his slumber and crawled across the floor on his hands and knees to grab it.
Hudson lifted his camera again, capturing Angel's slow motion. His hair was matted and there was something about him that told Hudson that Angel must not have washed for days. That meant that Watkins had kept this a secret for some time.
At first, the young man opened the can and gulped greedily from it. But he must have been only halfway through when his head turned slowly toward the one way mirror wall. His face changed, metamorphosing under Hudson's eyes. His usually shrewd smile was now twisted, and Hudson flinched when Angel threw the can at the glass, leaving a smear across it as the bubbles from the fizzy drink faded into oblivion.
Then, the guy walked over to the wall and stared into it. Hudson knew it wasn't him Angel was looking at, because he was off to the left. However, it was evident to the person on the other side that desperation was slowly creeping in the captive's harmonious facial features.
And then, he raised his fists and began thumping the wall. At first, with pursed lips and determined eyes, metamorphosing gradually into an expression of wild pain.
And Hudson began snapping pictures again, steeling himself against the display in front of him. He needed to focus on how his conversation with Watkins would go; he needed to weigh Angel's chances of surviving this ordeal. Taking into account what he knew so far, he had no reason to believe that Watkins intended to starve Angel to death, but he better have his burner at the ready to have the good guys storm the place.
The main reason he was evaluating all the facts was that he was after bigger fish than Watkins now. Based on the way Angel was being treated, there could be enough to bury the guy, but his boss, Gideon Keres, would wiggle his way out of it like the snake he was. That was the chance he didn't want to take.
He waited until Angel's energy left him. His silent cries of anger and despair had been caught on camera and were now ready for delivery. Hudson believed that his job was done once Angel realized that his efforts were in vain and withdrew sullenly into a corner. He probably believed he was alone again.
So far, Watkins had been introducing him slowly to his house of horrors, Hudson realized. He was the boiling frog in the man's eyes – or had it been Keres's idea? – someone to be tested, step by step, until he became one of them. It was what he had been after from the get-go, but Hudson had trouble pushing down the bile rising up in his throat.
He put his camera back into its bag and hurried out, throwing one last look at Angel who had fallen to one side now and was looking at nothing. His wide unblinking eyes made Hudson shiver. Since some reaction was expected from him, at least for now, he didn't have to act unmoved by all of it.
***
Watkins was waiting for him with a huge smile on his face. Hudson didn't have to look twice at that cold unpleasant face to know that he had passed the test.
"That is absolutely marvelous, Vegas," Watkins said as he looked through the pictures taken of the captive across the street. "You really know your stuff, but that's not all." The man pointed a finger at him. "You earned my respect. And my trust. Most people would have run out of that building like they were on fire and made fools out of themselves by going to the police."
Hudson stared at his employer, his eyebrows raised. "What do you mean, sir?"
Watkins offered him another sly grin that could give anyone at the receiving end the willies. "What did you think of Angel's situation?"
"He doesn't look like he's in his best shape. He really pissed you off, didn't he?"
Watkins took Hudson's shoulder. It took him all the effort he could muster not to shake the touch away. "He did, and that's why he agreed to play his role in this little ruse."
"Ruse?"
"Yes, of course." Watkins pulled out his phone. As soon as the other person answered, he held it so that Hudson could see who was taking the video call.
Angel's face appeared on the screen, grinning ear to ear.
"Say cheese, Angel," Watkins said in a cheerful tone.
"Vegas, you should see your face," Angel called from the other end.
Hudson grinned, too, and shook his head. "You had me there, the two of you."
Mission accomplished. Watkins believed him to be a total schmuck.
TBC
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