2nd Fic Post
Aug. 9th, 2005 04:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pride_of_erinAnd here's the latest chapter of 'There Is A God - Keller Be Thy Name'. Only took me five or six months (sheesh).
Special thanks to my slave-driver *cough*, I mean BETA,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
magickslash for cracking the whip and making me not suck. *mwah!*
Chapter Three
/'Do not put the Lord your God to the test...' Matthew 4.7/
Sunday, July 9th, 1989
Las Vegas
Chris was in a good mood. Hard not to be in a good mood when you’re fucking tripping out of your mind, but he’d had an especially good week. A couple of lucrative Ponzis had gone off without a hitch so he was rolling in cash for once; he’d managed to get Bonnie to marry him after only knowing her a couple of months; and now, without even trying, he’d picked up the tasty little treat who was walking alongside him down the main strip of Vegas.
Chris looked over at Toby, who still seemed dazed, looking around at the multitude of neon lights decorating the casinos. Chris had let go of his hand as soon as they’d gotten off the elevator, but he was pleased to see Toby was still walking close enough to bump into him occasionally. He’d probably be bumping into a lot more people if the crowds on the strip hadn’t substantially cleared – the casinos were still full, but the streets of Vegas were virtually dead by 1:00 am and it was already close to 12:30.
‘He looks like a fucking angel or something,’ Chris thought. He had thick blonde hair, cut in a horribly preppy style, but long enough to hang over his ears. Pretty ocean blue eyes, an adorably snub nose, and a wide generous mouth that looked just made for smiling. ‘And kissing,’ Chris grinned to himself. Toby was dressed for the heat in light tan khakis and a crisp white polo shirt, and looking more like he was spending the weekend in the Hamptons rather than Vegas. In fact, the only thing marring Toby’s perfect little East Coast, rich boy, preppy image was the three days worth of dark golden stubble coating his jaw.
“You had a rough week, Toby?”
“Huh?”
Chris pointed to his face. “You don’t seem like the type who’d normally go for the scruffy look.” Then he giggled. “You know, that’s a funny word when you think about it – scruffy. Scruff-*eeeeeeee*. Scruffy, scruffy, scruffy – “
“No, I haven’t had the best week,” Toby abruptly cut off Chris’s rambling, “Actually, I haven’t had the best month. Or even the best year.”
“Aww, poor baby, what’s wrong?” asked Chris, throwing an arm around Toby’s shoulders as they walked side-by-side, and drawing an odd look from a passer-by.
“Uh, nothing really, just pressure from my parents. Like I should worry about that at my age,” said Toby, feeling decidedly uncomfortable out here in public, and attempting to shrug off Chris’s arm.
Chris didn’t take the hint – his heightened senses were revelling in the feel of Toby’s warmth beneath his arm, so he didn’t move it, even though the hot night was making them both perspire. Chris spied the sheen of sweat on the back of Toby’s neck and fought the urge to lick it off. Chris may have been high but he still had enough working brain cells to realize that Toby would freak out if Chris’s tongue came anywhere near him at this point.
“What d’ya mean ‘at your age’? How old are you?”
“I turned twenty-four today. Well yesterday now – it's after midnight.”
“Really? Happy Birthday, Toby.”
“Thanks,” said Toby, rolling his eyes and trying to shrug Chris’s arm off again. ‘Why the hell can’t this guy keeps his hands off me?’ he thought to himself.
“Twenty-four,” Chris was saying, leaning in, “Man, you’re just a baby. I’m twenty-eight – practically over the hill,” he grinned.
Toby noticed with alarm that while he was talking, Chris’s face had been getting closer and closer to his neck.
“What are you *doing*?”
“Hmm?” Chris was mesmerized by a drop of sweat running along a prominent vein on Toby’s neck, and was once again using every ounce of willpower to stop himself from flicking his tongue out along that heated skin.
Very reluctantly, he pulled back slightly, loosening his grip on Toby. Toby felt an odd mixture of relief and slight disappointment, and he looked away from Chris’s face as they continued walking. Toby glanced down at the hand on his shoulder and finally noticed the wedding band encircling Chris’s third finger. The ring was made of cheap, dull pewter – it looked like something you’d buy for five bucks from a street vendor. Toby grabbed the hand and forcibly removed it from his shoulder, stepping out of Chris’s reach as they walked.
“So how long have you and Bonnie been *married*?” he asked firmly.
“Um, about four hours.” Chris’s hand was still tingling from Toby’s touch and he unconsciously rubbed it a few times against the leg of his jeans. ‘Man, denim is *scratchy*,' he thought.
Toby was surprised by Chris’s statement. “Really?”
Chris grinned. “Yep. We got married in one of those 24 hour wedding chapels by an Elvis impersonator.”
“Sounds classy,” said Toby dryly.
“Well it was better than my first wedding – just signing papers at City Hall. Pretty boring.”
“You’ve been married *before*?”
“Sure. Kitty was fuckin’ gorgeous, but she could be a hell bitch when she wanted to be ...... but Bonnie’s ... sweet as ... pie… Hmm…”
“Okay, Chris, *now* what are you doing?” Toby laughed. Chris had brought his hand up to his face, fingers spread wide, and was waving them up and down in front of his dazed eyes.
“The lights look funny going in and out of your fingers,” Chris said.
Toby burst out laughing. “Oh my god, Chris, you are so *high*!”
“Well I’m not low!” Chris agreed, erupting into guffaws again. Suddenly he stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and stared down at the ground.
“What?” said Toby.
“My feet are so tiny and far away,” he whispered.
Toby almost *pissed* himself. He bent over, bracing his hands on his knees as his body was racked by helpless, uncontrollable laughter. He laughed until his stomach ached and tears ran down his face. Chris, naturally, joined in with high-pitched giggling. “Oh *god*,” Toby wheezed, “I can’t *breathe*!” This just made Chris laugh even harder and he lost his balance, stumbling into a still-guffawing Toby. Toby grabbed Chris, wrapping his arms around his waist to prevent them both from ending up in a tangled heap on the sidewalk. Toby rocked backward under the onslaught of Chris’s weight, and they ended up performing an odd, stumbling dance to keep themselves upright.
Toby snorted with laughter. “Are you okay?” he asked, once they’d steadied themselves, still holding on tight to one another.
“Oh I’m fucking perfect…”Chris cried and leant in to press his lips firmly against Toby’s.
Toby just stood there, paralyzed. He had time to register the fact that Chris was still chuckling, his lips vibrating against Toby’s mouth, before Chris pulled away and buried his face in Toby’s neck, erupting into more helpless giggles.
Toby clutched at Chris’s shaking shoulders, struck dumb. ‘He kissed me…oh my god, he KISSED me!’ He licked his dry lips and tried to find his voice. That’s when he felt something soft and wet against the side of his neck…
“Keller!”
Chris sprang away from Toby like he’d received an electric shock, wiping a hand across his mouth like he could erase the feel of Toby’s skin against his lips.
“Hey, Keller!”
The shout came again and Toby saw a short, curly-haired guy running up the sidewalk towards them. Toby figured that Keller must be Chris's last name, as the guy stopped right in front of Chris, panting heavily and clutching his side.
“Tommy, what the fuck?” asked Chris.
“It’s okay, I think I lost them,” Tommy panted.
“Lost who?”
“The fucking cops, man! They already picked up that dipshit, Barlog –“
“The cops got Ronnie? How the fuck’d they find out?” Chris clutched his head like this was too much for his drug-addled brain to be taking in.
“Don’t worry, man, it’s got nothing to do with the Ponzi. Ronnie – that fucking *moron*, I could fucking kill him – tried doing that scam you showed him at the blackjack table. I *told* the little fucker you can’t do that shit without practicing first, plus you need good people skills for the con to go over – and that Barlog may be good with machines, but he knows *fuck all* about people. Not like you, Keller. So the dumbass fucker gets himself caught when we’re trying to leave the casino and ‘cos I’m with him, they come after me too! So I fucking bolt, get out the door, and these fucking cops standing outside come after me! I spent the last ten minutes running up and down fucking alleyways and side streets, trying to lose the fuckers!”
“Jesus, Tommy, if they didn’t have anything on you, why the fuck did you run?”
Tommy apparently wasn’t taking any notice of Toby standing there with them, when he answered, “’Cause thanks to yesterday’s Ponzi I got over five thousand bucks in my pocket and I really didn’t feel like explaining how I fuckin’ got it!”
Chris gaped at him, “You’re carrying around that much cash and you got the nerve to call *Ronnie* a fuckin’ moron?”
“Hey, fuck you, man. I ain’t - *fuck!*” Tommy exclaimed as three police officers on foot appeared on the sidewalk coming from the direction Tommy had come from. They quickly caught sight of Tommy and came running down the sidewalk towards him.
“Don’t you motherfuckin’ assholes give *up*?!” Tommy screeched, as he raced across the street, narrowly avoiding getting run over by two cars.
Toby watched, with an odd sense of excitement as two of the cops gave chase, dodging cars, ignoring beeping horns and shouts of disgruntled drivers. He’d spent the last long six years studying law, but he’d never seen a real crime unfold before his eyes like this before. Toby was too caught up in what was going on to notice what Chris saw with a rising panic. The third cop wasn’t following Tommy, but heading down the street towards *them*.
“Oh shit, Toby, we got company.”
Toby followed Chris’s gaze and saw the cop. "What's he want with us?"
"Saw us talking to Tommy, didn't he? Listen, just let me do the talking, and follow my lead, no matter *what* I say, got it?"
"Chris, you're *high* - let me talk."
"I'm *fine!*" Chris exclaimed with the complete conviction of the intoxicated, before lowering his voice again, "Seriously, Toby, I'm fine. Look at me."
Toby had to admit that Chris seemed to have moved on from his latest fit of giggling, but what if another one came on while he was talking to the police officer? Unfortunately he didn't have time to voice his objections before the officer was upon them.
"Excuse me, sirs, I'm Officer Blake, could I ask you a few questions, please?" the cop said in a strictly no-nonsense voice.
"Sure thing, Officer. How can we help you?" Chris replied, politely, while Toby silently freaked out beside him.
"Who was that man you were just speaking to?" Officer Blake asked.
"The guy that your buddies just chased down the street? Wouldn't have a clue, sir. He just came up to us out of nowhere, talking crazy, and asking us if we had a car, 'cause he needed a ride or something. Actually, I'm glad you guys showed up when you did - that psycho was really starting to freak my boyfriend out."
Toby belatedly realized he was the 'boyfriend', when Chris put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close, as though comforting him. It wasn't too hard for Toby to play the part, considering he already *was* freaking out. And having Chris kiss his temple, and whisper, "It's okay, baby," really didn't help. Although he was pretty impressed at just how smooth and sober Chris was managing to act.
Officer Blake stared at the two men, surprise and distaste evident on his face. Chris threw him a blatantly sexy grin and said, "So what'd that guy do, anyway? Why are you chasing him?"
The police officer practically shuddered at Chris's smile before straightening his stance, and hardening his features, trying to hide his obvious disgust behind professionalism. "Well, that doesn't really concern you, but since you did speak to him, I'd like you to come down to the station and make a statement."
"What for? I already told you everything. And he didn't tell us what he did or where he was going or anything, just told us he needed a ride, and he'd beat the shit out of my boyfriend if we didn't give him one," Chris said, enjoying how Blake's mouth twitched disapprovingly when he used the word 'boyfriend' again. He tightened his arms around Toby, nuzzling into those dark blond curls, and spoke again without even looking at the cop, too pre-occupied with the hairs tickling his lips and the wonderful solid warmth of Toby against his body. "C'mon Officer, cut us a break - it's his birthday. We're s'posed to be celebrating, and now he's had this happen to him."
Toby couldn't help letting out a slight gasp, as Chris moved his head down, brushing his lips and nose against Toby's ear, before dropping quick kisses along his neck. "You okay now, baby?" Chris murmured. What the hell was happening? How had Tobias Beecher ended up in this situation - being coddled by a stranger; a very *male* stranger, who hung out with criminals; right in front of a homophobic police officer in the middle of the Las Vegas strip at almost one in the morning? And why the *hell* was he kind of enjoying it?
Officer Blake, looking extremely uncomfortable and vaguely sickened, cleared his throat. "Ah ... sir?"
But Chris completely ignored him. He pressed his lips against the scratchy fuzz on Toby's cheek, "Kiss me," he whispered throatily, sliding one of his hands down to grasp Toby's ass, making the blond squirm.
Toby wasn't sure whether this was part of the act for Officer Blake, or if Chris had forgotten the cop entirely, and was now engrossed in what he was doing. After all, he had kissed Toby before. And Toby had kind of liked it. And he found himself wanting to do it again. So when Chris's mouth covered his a second time, Toby didn't pull away, torn between thoughts of 'Oh god, I shouldn't be doing this', 'Oh god, I *like* doing this', and 'Jesus - there's a cop standing right there!'
The kiss was brief, but surprisingly tender. It continued while Officer Blake said, "Ugh - you know what? Don't worry about it," before walking away from them. But when Toby heard the cop's parting shot - a muttered, barely audible, "Fucking fags," - he pulled away abruptly.
"Where you going?" Chris mumbled, eyes still half closed, moving after Toby. But Tobias pushed him away.
"He's gone Chris," Toby sighed, looking at the cop's retreating back.
Chris stared at Toby's wet, pink, lips, and fought against pulling him back into his arms. Instead, he forced a cheerful look onto his face.
"Oh good," he said brightly, wiping his own still-tingling lips. "Knew he'd fuck off and leave us alone if we freaked him out enough. Thanks for helping with that by the way - really saved my ass." Then he turned abruptly and continued walking down the sidewalk.
"What about your friend's ass?" Toby asked, walking to catch up with him.
"Tommy can take care of himself. They won't catch him - he's a total dick, but he can run like the wind. Plus he's got friends who live nearby, he'll be fine."
"What about your other friend?"
"I'm outta here tomorrow, soon as Bonnie crawls out from under her hangover. But there's a guy who owes me a favour, I'll get him to check in on Ronnie, see what he's facing."
"So that's it?" Toby snapped. "You're just going to abandon your friends?"
"Hey, that's all I can do without getting myself into deep shit," Chris snapped back. "Every man for himself, Tobe."
"That's pretty cruel."
"*I'm* pretty cruel. And you don't know fucking shit about me, so don't judge."
Toby was quiet for a few moments in the face of this outburst. All of a sudden, there were a million things he wanted to know about the mysterious man he was spending his night with. Finally he said, "You're a criminal, aren't you?"
"What - you a fucking cop? No, you're not - you already said that."
"Yeah," Toby replied, "But I didn't tell you I'm a lawyer."
"Well, that's just peachy. I promise I'll call you if I ever need legal advice."
"Chris, what did you *do*?"
"Let it go, will ya? You don't need to know. Unless you wanna rat me out."
"Of course I don't want to rat you out - " and he really didn't, which he realized was incredibly unlawyerly of him " - I'm just curious, Chris."
"Oh you're curious, are you kitty? Well kitty-cat gonna go splat, if he don't take his curiosity and shove it."
"Fine," Toby sighed. A few moments silence. Then, "How come you kissed me?"
Chris groaned in frustration, and clutched his head. He was developing a headache, and this conversation was totally killing his buzz. "To get rid of the cop, Tobe. I already told ya."
"What about the first time?"
"What?"
"You already kissed me before that."
"No I didn't."
"You don't remember?" Toby said, incredulously.
"No."
Toby sighed. "Look, Chris, I don't want to offend you or anything, but you're *married*. And even if you weren't, I wouldn't be interested because I'm not gay."
"Neither am I," Chris snapped angrily.
Toby wasn't sure what to say. This situation was getting increasingly uncomfortable, and Chris's bursts of temper were making him uneasy. He decided to try the diplomatic approach. "Chris, you don't have to worry that I'm going to treat you like that cop did, it's okay with me, really. So, you know, it doesn't bother me if you're ... um ... well, *bisexual*, I guess, since you *are* married - "
Toby was cut off abruptly when Chris grabbed his collar, and slammed him back against the nearest wall. Toby gasped in fear as Chris's hand gripped his throat, squeezing as tightly as it had squeezed his ass earlier. "You listen to me," Chris hissed dangerously, "I am *not* a fucking fag. You got that? You *ever* call me a fag again, and I will kill you."
By the last word, Chris's anger-filled voice had dropped to a sinister whisper that made Toby shiver. "Okay," Toby choked out fearfully, "I'm sorry. I made a mistake. I'm sorry," he repeated.
Chris let go of him and backed away slowly. Toby stared at Chris with terrified eyes, fingers rubbing at his abused throat. Chris regarded him with intensity, his dark blue eyes chillingly cold. Seconds passed. And then, insanely, Chris's face changed, his intense look breaking as he started to *laugh*.
"What?" Toby ventured, confused.
Chris just snorted, suddenly doubled up with laughter.
Toby stepped away from the wall, towards him, and risked a stronger, "*What?*"
Chris flashed him an incongruous grin. "Nothing. It's just that we're finally here and I didn't even realize. Turn around."
Toby looked behind him and saw that wall he'd been pushed against was actually a store window. It's insides were hidden by a black curtain, but buzzing neon lettering against the glass proclaimed: STRIP TATTOOS - OPEN 24 HOURS.
He turned back around to stare incredulously at a grinning Chris, who just shrugged nonchalantly at Toby and said, "You still coming?"
"You - I - You tried to kill me!" Toby sputtered.
Chris chuckled again and said, "Toby if I'd tried to kill you, you'd be *dead*. I was just making a point. C'mon."
Toby was still rooted the spot with shock as Chris moved around him towards the door. 'This man is insane,' Toby thought, 'Run away, Beecher. Get your sorry butt back to the hotel, and away from this psycho. Look at everything that's already happened tonight - if you don't leave now you'll probably end up dead in a dumpster somewhere.'
'Or maybe he'll end up kissing you again' another voice in his head said, 'and maybe keep making you forget that you're Tobias Beecher. Maybe you can keep being someone else - someone who does all these crazy things, and doesn't mope around his hotel room getting drunk. At least for tonight.'
"Toby!" yelled Chris, pushing open the door of the all-night tattoo parlour, "You coming?"
And Toby allowed himself a brief, crazy chuckle, before following him after him. "Yeah. I'm coming."
TBC...
Special thanks to my slave-driver *cough*, I mean BETA,
magickslash for cracking the whip and making me not suck. *mwah!*Chapter Three
/'Do not put the Lord your God to the test...' Matthew 4.7/
Sunday, July 9th, 1989
Las Vegas
Chris was in a good mood. Hard not to be in a good mood when you’re fucking tripping out of your mind, but he’d had an especially good week. A couple of lucrative Ponzis had gone off without a hitch so he was rolling in cash for once; he’d managed to get Bonnie to marry him after only knowing her a couple of months; and now, without even trying, he’d picked up the tasty little treat who was walking alongside him down the main strip of Vegas.
Chris looked over at Toby, who still seemed dazed, looking around at the multitude of neon lights decorating the casinos. Chris had let go of his hand as soon as they’d gotten off the elevator, but he was pleased to see Toby was still walking close enough to bump into him occasionally. He’d probably be bumping into a lot more people if the crowds on the strip hadn’t substantially cleared – the casinos were still full, but the streets of Vegas were virtually dead by 1:00 am and it was already close to 12:30.
‘He looks like a fucking angel or something,’ Chris thought. He had thick blonde hair, cut in a horribly preppy style, but long enough to hang over his ears. Pretty ocean blue eyes, an adorably snub nose, and a wide generous mouth that looked just made for smiling. ‘And kissing,’ Chris grinned to himself. Toby was dressed for the heat in light tan khakis and a crisp white polo shirt, and looking more like he was spending the weekend in the Hamptons rather than Vegas. In fact, the only thing marring Toby’s perfect little East Coast, rich boy, preppy image was the three days worth of dark golden stubble coating his jaw.
“You had a rough week, Toby?”
“Huh?”
Chris pointed to his face. “You don’t seem like the type who’d normally go for the scruffy look.” Then he giggled. “You know, that’s a funny word when you think about it – scruffy. Scruff-*eeeeeeee*. Scruffy, scruffy, scruffy – “
“No, I haven’t had the best week,” Toby abruptly cut off Chris’s rambling, “Actually, I haven’t had the best month. Or even the best year.”
“Aww, poor baby, what’s wrong?” asked Chris, throwing an arm around Toby’s shoulders as they walked side-by-side, and drawing an odd look from a passer-by.
“Uh, nothing really, just pressure from my parents. Like I should worry about that at my age,” said Toby, feeling decidedly uncomfortable out here in public, and attempting to shrug off Chris’s arm.
Chris didn’t take the hint – his heightened senses were revelling in the feel of Toby’s warmth beneath his arm, so he didn’t move it, even though the hot night was making them both perspire. Chris spied the sheen of sweat on the back of Toby’s neck and fought the urge to lick it off. Chris may have been high but he still had enough working brain cells to realize that Toby would freak out if Chris’s tongue came anywhere near him at this point.
“What d’ya mean ‘at your age’? How old are you?”
“I turned twenty-four today. Well yesterday now – it's after midnight.”
“Really? Happy Birthday, Toby.”
“Thanks,” said Toby, rolling his eyes and trying to shrug Chris’s arm off again. ‘Why the hell can’t this guy keeps his hands off me?’ he thought to himself.
“Twenty-four,” Chris was saying, leaning in, “Man, you’re just a baby. I’m twenty-eight – practically over the hill,” he grinned.
Toby noticed with alarm that while he was talking, Chris’s face had been getting closer and closer to his neck.
“What are you *doing*?”
“Hmm?” Chris was mesmerized by a drop of sweat running along a prominent vein on Toby’s neck, and was once again using every ounce of willpower to stop himself from flicking his tongue out along that heated skin.
Very reluctantly, he pulled back slightly, loosening his grip on Toby. Toby felt an odd mixture of relief and slight disappointment, and he looked away from Chris’s face as they continued walking. Toby glanced down at the hand on his shoulder and finally noticed the wedding band encircling Chris’s third finger. The ring was made of cheap, dull pewter – it looked like something you’d buy for five bucks from a street vendor. Toby grabbed the hand and forcibly removed it from his shoulder, stepping out of Chris’s reach as they walked.
“So how long have you and Bonnie been *married*?” he asked firmly.
“Um, about four hours.” Chris’s hand was still tingling from Toby’s touch and he unconsciously rubbed it a few times against the leg of his jeans. ‘Man, denim is *scratchy*,' he thought.
Toby was surprised by Chris’s statement. “Really?”
Chris grinned. “Yep. We got married in one of those 24 hour wedding chapels by an Elvis impersonator.”
“Sounds classy,” said Toby dryly.
“Well it was better than my first wedding – just signing papers at City Hall. Pretty boring.”
“You’ve been married *before*?”
“Sure. Kitty was fuckin’ gorgeous, but she could be a hell bitch when she wanted to be ...... but Bonnie’s ... sweet as ... pie… Hmm…”
“Okay, Chris, *now* what are you doing?” Toby laughed. Chris had brought his hand up to his face, fingers spread wide, and was waving them up and down in front of his dazed eyes.
“The lights look funny going in and out of your fingers,” Chris said.
Toby burst out laughing. “Oh my god, Chris, you are so *high*!”
“Well I’m not low!” Chris agreed, erupting into guffaws again. Suddenly he stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and stared down at the ground.
“What?” said Toby.
“My feet are so tiny and far away,” he whispered.
Toby almost *pissed* himself. He bent over, bracing his hands on his knees as his body was racked by helpless, uncontrollable laughter. He laughed until his stomach ached and tears ran down his face. Chris, naturally, joined in with high-pitched giggling. “Oh *god*,” Toby wheezed, “I can’t *breathe*!” This just made Chris laugh even harder and he lost his balance, stumbling into a still-guffawing Toby. Toby grabbed Chris, wrapping his arms around his waist to prevent them both from ending up in a tangled heap on the sidewalk. Toby rocked backward under the onslaught of Chris’s weight, and they ended up performing an odd, stumbling dance to keep themselves upright.
Toby snorted with laughter. “Are you okay?” he asked, once they’d steadied themselves, still holding on tight to one another.
“Oh I’m fucking perfect…”Chris cried and leant in to press his lips firmly against Toby’s.
Toby just stood there, paralyzed. He had time to register the fact that Chris was still chuckling, his lips vibrating against Toby’s mouth, before Chris pulled away and buried his face in Toby’s neck, erupting into more helpless giggles.
Toby clutched at Chris’s shaking shoulders, struck dumb. ‘He kissed me…oh my god, he KISSED me!’ He licked his dry lips and tried to find his voice. That’s when he felt something soft and wet against the side of his neck…
“Keller!”
Chris sprang away from Toby like he’d received an electric shock, wiping a hand across his mouth like he could erase the feel of Toby’s skin against his lips.
“Hey, Keller!”
The shout came again and Toby saw a short, curly-haired guy running up the sidewalk towards them. Toby figured that Keller must be Chris's last name, as the guy stopped right in front of Chris, panting heavily and clutching his side.
“Tommy, what the fuck?” asked Chris.
“It’s okay, I think I lost them,” Tommy panted.
“Lost who?”
“The fucking cops, man! They already picked up that dipshit, Barlog –“
“The cops got Ronnie? How the fuck’d they find out?” Chris clutched his head like this was too much for his drug-addled brain to be taking in.
“Don’t worry, man, it’s got nothing to do with the Ponzi. Ronnie – that fucking *moron*, I could fucking kill him – tried doing that scam you showed him at the blackjack table. I *told* the little fucker you can’t do that shit without practicing first, plus you need good people skills for the con to go over – and that Barlog may be good with machines, but he knows *fuck all* about people. Not like you, Keller. So the dumbass fucker gets himself caught when we’re trying to leave the casino and ‘cos I’m with him, they come after me too! So I fucking bolt, get out the door, and these fucking cops standing outside come after me! I spent the last ten minutes running up and down fucking alleyways and side streets, trying to lose the fuckers!”
“Jesus, Tommy, if they didn’t have anything on you, why the fuck did you run?”
Tommy apparently wasn’t taking any notice of Toby standing there with them, when he answered, “’Cause thanks to yesterday’s Ponzi I got over five thousand bucks in my pocket and I really didn’t feel like explaining how I fuckin’ got it!”
Chris gaped at him, “You’re carrying around that much cash and you got the nerve to call *Ronnie* a fuckin’ moron?”
“Hey, fuck you, man. I ain’t - *fuck!*” Tommy exclaimed as three police officers on foot appeared on the sidewalk coming from the direction Tommy had come from. They quickly caught sight of Tommy and came running down the sidewalk towards him.
“Don’t you motherfuckin’ assholes give *up*?!” Tommy screeched, as he raced across the street, narrowly avoiding getting run over by two cars.
Toby watched, with an odd sense of excitement as two of the cops gave chase, dodging cars, ignoring beeping horns and shouts of disgruntled drivers. He’d spent the last long six years studying law, but he’d never seen a real crime unfold before his eyes like this before. Toby was too caught up in what was going on to notice what Chris saw with a rising panic. The third cop wasn’t following Tommy, but heading down the street towards *them*.
“Oh shit, Toby, we got company.”
Toby followed Chris’s gaze and saw the cop. "What's he want with us?"
"Saw us talking to Tommy, didn't he? Listen, just let me do the talking, and follow my lead, no matter *what* I say, got it?"
"Chris, you're *high* - let me talk."
"I'm *fine!*" Chris exclaimed with the complete conviction of the intoxicated, before lowering his voice again, "Seriously, Toby, I'm fine. Look at me."
Toby had to admit that Chris seemed to have moved on from his latest fit of giggling, but what if another one came on while he was talking to the police officer? Unfortunately he didn't have time to voice his objections before the officer was upon them.
"Excuse me, sirs, I'm Officer Blake, could I ask you a few questions, please?" the cop said in a strictly no-nonsense voice.
"Sure thing, Officer. How can we help you?" Chris replied, politely, while Toby silently freaked out beside him.
"Who was that man you were just speaking to?" Officer Blake asked.
"The guy that your buddies just chased down the street? Wouldn't have a clue, sir. He just came up to us out of nowhere, talking crazy, and asking us if we had a car, 'cause he needed a ride or something. Actually, I'm glad you guys showed up when you did - that psycho was really starting to freak my boyfriend out."
Toby belatedly realized he was the 'boyfriend', when Chris put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close, as though comforting him. It wasn't too hard for Toby to play the part, considering he already *was* freaking out. And having Chris kiss his temple, and whisper, "It's okay, baby," really didn't help. Although he was pretty impressed at just how smooth and sober Chris was managing to act.
Officer Blake stared at the two men, surprise and distaste evident on his face. Chris threw him a blatantly sexy grin and said, "So what'd that guy do, anyway? Why are you chasing him?"
The police officer practically shuddered at Chris's smile before straightening his stance, and hardening his features, trying to hide his obvious disgust behind professionalism. "Well, that doesn't really concern you, but since you did speak to him, I'd like you to come down to the station and make a statement."
"What for? I already told you everything. And he didn't tell us what he did or where he was going or anything, just told us he needed a ride, and he'd beat the shit out of my boyfriend if we didn't give him one," Chris said, enjoying how Blake's mouth twitched disapprovingly when he used the word 'boyfriend' again. He tightened his arms around Toby, nuzzling into those dark blond curls, and spoke again without even looking at the cop, too pre-occupied with the hairs tickling his lips and the wonderful solid warmth of Toby against his body. "C'mon Officer, cut us a break - it's his birthday. We're s'posed to be celebrating, and now he's had this happen to him."
Toby couldn't help letting out a slight gasp, as Chris moved his head down, brushing his lips and nose against Toby's ear, before dropping quick kisses along his neck. "You okay now, baby?" Chris murmured. What the hell was happening? How had Tobias Beecher ended up in this situation - being coddled by a stranger; a very *male* stranger, who hung out with criminals; right in front of a homophobic police officer in the middle of the Las Vegas strip at almost one in the morning? And why the *hell* was he kind of enjoying it?
Officer Blake, looking extremely uncomfortable and vaguely sickened, cleared his throat. "Ah ... sir?"
But Chris completely ignored him. He pressed his lips against the scratchy fuzz on Toby's cheek, "Kiss me," he whispered throatily, sliding one of his hands down to grasp Toby's ass, making the blond squirm.
Toby wasn't sure whether this was part of the act for Officer Blake, or if Chris had forgotten the cop entirely, and was now engrossed in what he was doing. After all, he had kissed Toby before. And Toby had kind of liked it. And he found himself wanting to do it again. So when Chris's mouth covered his a second time, Toby didn't pull away, torn between thoughts of 'Oh god, I shouldn't be doing this', 'Oh god, I *like* doing this', and 'Jesus - there's a cop standing right there!'
The kiss was brief, but surprisingly tender. It continued while Officer Blake said, "Ugh - you know what? Don't worry about it," before walking away from them. But when Toby heard the cop's parting shot - a muttered, barely audible, "Fucking fags," - he pulled away abruptly.
"Where you going?" Chris mumbled, eyes still half closed, moving after Toby. But Tobias pushed him away.
"He's gone Chris," Toby sighed, looking at the cop's retreating back.
Chris stared at Toby's wet, pink, lips, and fought against pulling him back into his arms. Instead, he forced a cheerful look onto his face.
"Oh good," he said brightly, wiping his own still-tingling lips. "Knew he'd fuck off and leave us alone if we freaked him out enough. Thanks for helping with that by the way - really saved my ass." Then he turned abruptly and continued walking down the sidewalk.
"What about your friend's ass?" Toby asked, walking to catch up with him.
"Tommy can take care of himself. They won't catch him - he's a total dick, but he can run like the wind. Plus he's got friends who live nearby, he'll be fine."
"What about your other friend?"
"I'm outta here tomorrow, soon as Bonnie crawls out from under her hangover. But there's a guy who owes me a favour, I'll get him to check in on Ronnie, see what he's facing."
"So that's it?" Toby snapped. "You're just going to abandon your friends?"
"Hey, that's all I can do without getting myself into deep shit," Chris snapped back. "Every man for himself, Tobe."
"That's pretty cruel."
"*I'm* pretty cruel. And you don't know fucking shit about me, so don't judge."
Toby was quiet for a few moments in the face of this outburst. All of a sudden, there were a million things he wanted to know about the mysterious man he was spending his night with. Finally he said, "You're a criminal, aren't you?"
"What - you a fucking cop? No, you're not - you already said that."
"Yeah," Toby replied, "But I didn't tell you I'm a lawyer."
"Well, that's just peachy. I promise I'll call you if I ever need legal advice."
"Chris, what did you *do*?"
"Let it go, will ya? You don't need to know. Unless you wanna rat me out."
"Of course I don't want to rat you out - " and he really didn't, which he realized was incredibly unlawyerly of him " - I'm just curious, Chris."
"Oh you're curious, are you kitty? Well kitty-cat gonna go splat, if he don't take his curiosity and shove it."
"Fine," Toby sighed. A few moments silence. Then, "How come you kissed me?"
Chris groaned in frustration, and clutched his head. He was developing a headache, and this conversation was totally killing his buzz. "To get rid of the cop, Tobe. I already told ya."
"What about the first time?"
"What?"
"You already kissed me before that."
"No I didn't."
"You don't remember?" Toby said, incredulously.
"No."
Toby sighed. "Look, Chris, I don't want to offend you or anything, but you're *married*. And even if you weren't, I wouldn't be interested because I'm not gay."
"Neither am I," Chris snapped angrily.
Toby wasn't sure what to say. This situation was getting increasingly uncomfortable, and Chris's bursts of temper were making him uneasy. He decided to try the diplomatic approach. "Chris, you don't have to worry that I'm going to treat you like that cop did, it's okay with me, really. So, you know, it doesn't bother me if you're ... um ... well, *bisexual*, I guess, since you *are* married - "
Toby was cut off abruptly when Chris grabbed his collar, and slammed him back against the nearest wall. Toby gasped in fear as Chris's hand gripped his throat, squeezing as tightly as it had squeezed his ass earlier. "You listen to me," Chris hissed dangerously, "I am *not* a fucking fag. You got that? You *ever* call me a fag again, and I will kill you."
By the last word, Chris's anger-filled voice had dropped to a sinister whisper that made Toby shiver. "Okay," Toby choked out fearfully, "I'm sorry. I made a mistake. I'm sorry," he repeated.
Chris let go of him and backed away slowly. Toby stared at Chris with terrified eyes, fingers rubbing at his abused throat. Chris regarded him with intensity, his dark blue eyes chillingly cold. Seconds passed. And then, insanely, Chris's face changed, his intense look breaking as he started to *laugh*.
"What?" Toby ventured, confused.
Chris just snorted, suddenly doubled up with laughter.
Toby stepped away from the wall, towards him, and risked a stronger, "*What?*"
Chris flashed him an incongruous grin. "Nothing. It's just that we're finally here and I didn't even realize. Turn around."
Toby looked behind him and saw that wall he'd been pushed against was actually a store window. It's insides were hidden by a black curtain, but buzzing neon lettering against the glass proclaimed: STRIP TATTOOS - OPEN 24 HOURS.
He turned back around to stare incredulously at a grinning Chris, who just shrugged nonchalantly at Toby and said, "You still coming?"
"You - I - You tried to kill me!" Toby sputtered.
Chris chuckled again and said, "Toby if I'd tried to kill you, you'd be *dead*. I was just making a point. C'mon."
Toby was still rooted the spot with shock as Chris moved around him towards the door. 'This man is insane,' Toby thought, 'Run away, Beecher. Get your sorry butt back to the hotel, and away from this psycho. Look at everything that's already happened tonight - if you don't leave now you'll probably end up dead in a dumpster somewhere.'
'Or maybe he'll end up kissing you again' another voice in his head said, 'and maybe keep making you forget that you're Tobias Beecher. Maybe you can keep being someone else - someone who does all these crazy things, and doesn't mope around his hotel room getting drunk. At least for tonight.'
"Toby!" yelled Chris, pushing open the door of the all-night tattoo parlour, "You coming?"
And Toby allowed himself a brief, crazy chuckle, before following him after him. "Yeah. I'm coming."
TBC...
