Page 67 of Zero Divergence
Sawyer chuckled as tears streamed down his face. “Maybe we skip the slime part, yeah? Play-Doh is a slightly safer choice.”
“Agreed,” Royce said, pressing his lips to Sawyer’s to seal the deal.
When they broke apart, Maverick was standing there with Sawyer’s debit card and slip for him to sign. “You two are so adorable.”
“Thanks,” Royce said while Sawyer pocketed his card.
The waiter sighed. “I hope to find what you have when I’m old too.”
Royce fell back against the padded booth, laughing, while Sawyer scowled at the kid with the ink pen poised in the air. “Kid, you’re supposed to wait untilafteryou’ve collected your tip before you insult us.”
“Oops, my bad,” he said before sauntering off.
Sawyer added his standard twenty-five percent tip, then signed the slip with a flourish before tossing the pen down and sliding out of the booth, pulling Royce in his wake.
They headed down the metal steps, nodding at Jesse when they reached the main floor. Sawyer had every intention of heading straight for the exit until he caught sight of a familiar guy with white-blond hair moving lithely between dancing men with a heavy drink tray in his hand.
“I’ll be damned,” Royce said in his ear. “Guess he’s making our job a little easier tonight.”
They slowly followed behind Blakemore, which allowed them to observe as he served the drinks. He flirted and teased, but since the blond wasn’t wearing the aviator glasses, Sawyer could see the pain in the younger man’s eyes. He hadn’t been faking his grief, and even though Kendall Blakemore had some explaining to do, Sawyer still didn’t believe the man was involved in Gross’s death.
Once he placed his last drink, Blakemore turned and started walking toward them. It took him a few steps to notice Sawyer and Royce, and when he did, his steps never faltered, even though mild surprise registered on his face. “Good evening, Detectives. Checking up on me?” he asked when he stopped in front of them.
“How could we be doing that?” Royce asked. “You told us you only work on weekends?”
“I normally do,” he replied smoothly. “I think we both know what I really meant, though.”
“We do?” Royce asked.
Blakemore heaved a loaded sigh and rolled his eyes. “Fine. We’ll play your games. You’re here to check on my alibi even after yourfriendconfirmed my statement already.”
“Our friend told us he made you late returning from your dinner break on Friday and Sunday nights,” Sawyer said. “We got curious about how things went on Saturday and imagine how surprised we were to discover you left for ninety minutes instead of forty-five. Care to tell us where you went? We know you didn’t meet Jonah.”
Blakemore’s nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply. “It’s a personal problem, and I don’t care to discuss it right now.”
“You may not have a choice,” Royce countered. “Especially if we can prove Vivian died within the window you were gone.”
Blakemore sucked in a sharp breath and staggered backward a few steps. Sawyer wasn’t surprised Royce used his bad-cop tactics to shock a response out of the younger man. “Leave,” Blakemore said sharply. “You don’t get to harass me at work. If you want to speak to me again, you can do so by going through Bill Elderwood.”
“You don’t want to do that, Kendall,” Sawyer said, hoping his voice sounded gentle and friendly. For good measure, he turned on Royce. “Must you always be such a dickhead?” Royce just shrugged. Facing Blakemore again, Sawyer held his hands up. “I don’t believe you hurt Vivian, and I know you want to help us find her killer.” Even if his half-truths and misleading remarks stated otherwise.“Just tell us where you went on Saturday night.”
Blakemore broke eye contact as he debated his options. After a few seconds, his gaze collided with Sawyer’s once more. “I met my mother. She called me crying earlier in the day. She was convinced my stepfather was having an affair and asked me for advice.” He took a deep breath and shook his head.
“The mother who was responsible for you living out of your car?” Royce questioned. Sawyer couldn’t blame him for the doubt that had crept into his voice.
“I might’ve exaggerated a little bit,” Blakemore conceded.
“Which part?” Sawyer and Royce asked at the same time. Exchanging a glance, Royce gestured for Sawyer to go ahead.
“Which part did you exaggerate? The homelessness or your parents kicking you out?”
“They didn’t kick me out of their house,” Blakemore said after a pause. “They made my life so miserable that I thought living in my car was my best option. I refuse to pretend to be something I am not. My stepfather had said it was one thing for me to be queer, but I could at least act like a man and stop embarrassing my family.” Blakemore’s face flushed with anger or humiliation; Sawyer couldn’t be sure which. “Do you know what I did to earn such heinous remarks?” When neither Sawyer nor Royce took the bait, he said, “I wore lip gloss to a dinner party my family hosted.” Blakemore laughed bitterly. “Stan was so worried one of his business associates would cancel a contract with him when he should’ve been concerned about how much his only son and heir liked the way lip gloss aided my mouth when working it up and down his dick. He said my lips tasted like Sugar.”
Sugar. Is that how he got his nickname? It wasn’t Sawyer’s business. “I’m sorry, Kendall,” Sawyer said, and he meant it.
“My mom stood by and let Stan say the most hateful things to my face. What mother does that?” He shook his head. “Don’t bother answering me. It was a rhetorical question. What you should be asking is why, after what she did, or didn’t do in my case, would I give her the time of day?”
“She’s your mom,” Royce said softly. “I’m pretty sure most kids in your situation would’ve answered the call and met their moms. My question is, what did she expect you to do about her marital problems though?”