Page 49 of The Sin Eater
He takes my hand and leads me off the dance floor. Near the club entrance, he asks me to wait and disappears down a darkened hallway. He’s back a couple minutes later, wrapped in an oversized, faux fur coat. In the flashing, multicolored disco lights, it’s hard to tell the color besides dark. The flipped-up collar hides most of his face and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes make it obvious he’s grinning hard. Again, he takes my hand, and we head out into the night.
We get lucky and it’s not raining. His apartment’s only a couple blocks away, so any conversation is going to have to happen quickly. I check my phone to confirm the time—0145—and notice I got a text. I open it and laugh. Roger. One photo, a beautiful tropical sunset with a willowy young woman silhouetted against it.
I show my phone to Ezra. “My buddy just sent me this.”
“Pretty.”
“I’m going to guess he’s on Maui or maybe Kauai.”
“Why is he sending you pictures of women?”
We’re waiting at the light to cross Broadway. Traffic is light enough for us to jaywalk, but I want to prolong things. “He and I played ball together in high school and now that he’s a big MLB star, he sends me pics all the time. I think they’re somewhere between a reminder and an invitation.”
The light changes and we walk on. Ezra peers at me over the fur collar. “Like, he’s inviting you to Maui?”
“More or less. Given the chance, he’d arrange for my tickets and a place to stay.”
His eyes get big. “Do it, dude.”
There aren’t too many other people walking, and while I don’t really want to talk about baseball, I see a way of making a point. “I can’t. Not really. See, Patty—that’s my mother—wasn’t great. When Dorinda and I were kids, we pretty much lived with our grandmother, and to be honest, I barely had a pair of tennis shoes, let alone cleats like the other kids had. Gram made sure I played Little League, though, and that’s where I met Roger.”
We stop at the next light even though foot and car traffic is pretty much nonexistent. Like good Seattleites, we wait for the light to change. Ezra’s gaze shows more understanding than sympathy, which I appreciate. “Anyway, Roger’s dad has deep pockets, and he pretty much adopted me and made sure I had what I needed to play. He sponsored me for Select, made sure I had good quality equipment, and after my grandmother passed, he gave me a place to live.” I laugh without much humor. “D-Clem only existed because of Mr. Bolden.”
“D-Clem. That’s right. Kinda funny that cop knew who you were.”
“Doesn’t happen nearly as often as it used to.” I drape an arm over his shoulders and guide him into the intersection. “I was really lucky.” So lucky that if I dig deep enough, I’ll discover a layer of shame that I haven’t done more with all the benefits Mr. Bolden offered me. One blown shoulder shouldn’t have limited me to this extent, not really.
That’s a wormhole I try to avoid at all costs. Fortunately, Ezra redirects the conversation before I can get too far down.
“Well, I think you should go to Maui.”
Chuckling, I hug him closer. He feels good against my body. “Gotta work, my dude.”
Easily, without being too obvious, he slides away from me. “I meant what I said. No sexy times tonight.”
Score. This is the opening I need. “Why not?”
He stops in the middle of the sidewalk. “I can’t, Big D, and I won’t tell you why, either.”
His hair has flopped forward, giving me only one storm-cloud eye to look at. I brush it back so I can see him better. “I’m not an asshole, Ezra. I’m not going to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do. I just want to know why.”
“I’m not contagious or anything.” His gaze tracks something over my shoulder. “But there are some things I can’t tell you.”
“Yeah? Well, there were some things Patty wouldn’t tell me, back in the day. Had a hard time with it then. Have a hard time with it now.”
“Patty?” He murmurs. “Oh, yeah, your mother. Look, Damon, I need you to trust me. I’m not like her. Yes, I’m weird and difficult, and yes, this looks crazy as fuck.” He grabs my hand, hard.
I shift our grip to interlace our fingers, and he keeps talking, his voice heavy with sincerity. “I swear on a bunch of holy stuff that I’m not going to screw you over. I promise.”
I promise. Not sure what to do with that, if for no other reason than how sincerity and Ezra are an awkward fit. Maybe it’s just that I want to believe him. Maybe he’ll be more open when he trusts me more.And maybe he’s too much work.
Inhaling deeply, I let the breath—and some of my frustration—go. Some of it, not all. The frustration, I mean. I want to like this guy. Hell, Idolike this guy. But damn... “Whatever. Let’s get you home.”
We don’t have much to say until we get to Ezra’s apartment building. Don’t let go of his hand, either until he steps away so he and his key can fight with the front door of his building. When hegets it open, he surprises me. He turns to face me and says, “Kiss me goodnight?”
Despite everything, I want to. I cup his cheek, rubbing my thumb over his lower lip. “Baby, you are the single most complicated individual I have ever met. Keep your secrets.” I press my lips against his and taste cherries. “For now.”
I leave him like that, eyes wide, lips parted. It’s raining, chips of ice flung from the sky, so I start to jog.