The Way Things Are (14 page)

“I swear, I don’t know why this is wearing me out. I try to get to the gym a couple of times a week,” Ken lied.

“Different kind of workout.”

He leaned out of the way of a halfhearted uppercut.

“You got to move your feet,” Patrick instructed. “If you just dodge, it throws you off balance. If I pressed….” He hit Ken with a slow three-punch combo.

Even without the thudding impact of the gloves, Ken stumbled backward. “Definitely a different kind of workout,” he agreed, grateful for the excuse.

They ended up sparring for the better part of an hour, although by the end of their match, they were both so exhausted they were falling over each other rather than hitting each other.

Toward the last twenty minutes, Jeremy and Jay appeared on the ropes of the ring along with an attractive, slender blond man who didn’t even bother to hide the way he leered at Patrick. The old trainer was pointing out Patrick’s footwork, commenting on each blow and block and occasionally whispering things that made Jay and the blond laugh out loud. The blond held a pair of boxing gloves rather than wearing them. Ken noticed that his nails were covered with a dark black glossy polish. The row of earrings he had taped flat to the shell of his ear seemed wrong attached to a body built of solid, lanky muscle. He looked very familiar, but Ken couldn’t place a name to his face.

Ken stepped back to avoid a sloppy roundhouse punch, and Patrick stumbled forward, wrapping his arms around Ken’s shoulders instead of hitting him. Ken laughed, ducked his shoulder low, and rolled Patrick to the side. Patrick went down laughing. He ended up sprawled spread-eagle on the mat and he stayed there for a moment, catching his breath.

“When did we switch to Judo?” Patrick asked, laughing.

Ken panted and sat down beside Patrick. “Habit, sorry.”

“Judo? I think we’re boxing and he switches to Judo.” Patrick propped himself up on his elbows. “You should teach me some of that shit.”

“Teach you?”

“Yeah.”

“I haven’t done it in years,” Ken said honestly. “I just remember basic stuff from the police academy, that’s all.”

“You went to the police academy?”

Ken slumped down beside him. “A few years back, yeah. My brothers and I grew up wanting to be cops. Our stepdad is a cop, and we all looked up to him. I got really out of shape in college, though, and gained a lot of weight. I was about forty pounds overweight when I went to the academy, but I figured I’d get into shape there. I was almost finished when I tore a ligament in my knee. It took two surgeries and a year of physical therapy before I could walk without it hurting, and I still can’t run more than a quarter of a mile before my whole leg cramps.”

“That sucks,” Patrick said quietly, all of the laughter in his tone gone. “I suppose it would make it damn hard to become a cop, not being able to chase people.”

“More than hard. Just plain impossible. It took a few years for me to accept that it wasn’t going to happen. I don’t think my brothers will ever accept it.” Ken shrugged, uncomfortably aware of how close he was to whining. “Life doesn’t always work out the way we imagine it will, but mine has worked out okay. I like my job. I’m good at it, and kids aren’t as jaded or as hopeless as adults.”

“Are you okay doing stuff like this?”

Ken laughed. “No. But there’s always painkillers.”

Patrick stared at him for a long time, then smiled and climbed to his feet. He offered Ken a hand getting up.

“Sorry for getting you all sweaty. You still need to go back into work?” Patrick asked.

Ken sighed. His muscles quivered with fatigue and his brain was riding a wave of endorphins that was almost better than sex, but he did need to file paperwork for the community service hours his kids had performed. “Yeah, I do. I’m the only one there on Saturdays, so no one’s going to care if I’m a mess. And this was fun.”

“Well I’ll be damned, I think we have a convert!” the blond exclaimed. He leapt off the side of the ring, did a summersault in the air, then whooped when he landed. Jeremy rolled his eyes, but none of the other gym patrons even seemed to notice his antics.

Patrick crawled through the ropes and began to strip off the gloves and protective gear. Ken followed suit, awkwardly pulling off the gloves and wiping the red foam helmet down with a damp towel.

“I was wondering when you were going to show up,” Patrick said to the acrobatic young man.

“I got caught up in something.”

“David?” Patrick asked.

He grinned like a satisfied tomcat. “No, but I wasn’t lonely. You’re being rude. Introduce me to your new friend?”

“Yeah, yeah. Corbin, this is Ken Atkins. Ken, this is my buddy Corbin Hollis, from last night.”

Ken felt like an idiot. Now that he knew the man with the dark nail polish was the same man Patrick had been dancing with the night before, Ken wasn’t sure how he hadn’t recognized him. “Corbin.” Ken nodded and tried to smile.

“Yeah, there’s that ‘I want to flay you alive’ look again,” Corbin said with a smirk. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I know from the look on Pat’s face he’ll kill me if I do. And I’ve got to do the whole bonding thing.” Corbin elbowed Jay in the shoulder. He shuffled Jay over to a bench and watched attentively while the kid showed him page after page from a sketchbook.

Patrick eyed him curiously. “So, fun?”

“This was fun.”

“You should come back next Saturday. I think you could get really good, and it’d….” Patrick shrugged. Ken saw his eyes swivel. “It’d give us a chance to touch base on stuff with Jay.”

Near the benches, Jay was laughing with Corbin, who was showing off a tattoo on his shoulder and comparing it to an image from one of Jay’s sketchbooks.

“Is that okay?” Ken asked, staring at the pair of them.

Patrick followed his gaze, then smiled. “Yeah. Corbin is Jay’s godfather. We’ve been friends since we were kids.”

“He’s the one you said could beat you in a match?”

“He could easily kick my ass. Corbin’s little, just like his dad, but he’s vicious. And he’s been in this gym every day since he was a toddler. Hell, he’s the one who got me into it.”

“Vicious?”

Patrick chuckled. “Just in the ring. He is a total twink. He even has it printed in blue glitter on some of his clothes.”

“Glitter?” Ken stared at Patrick, trying to make sense of the seriously mixed signals he kept getting. The vibe between him and Corbin didn’t scream “just friends” to Ken. It didn’t even scream “best friends.” Ken had to bite his tongue and remind himself that he wasn’t supposed to give a damn either way. Patrick was hot, and flirting with him made Ken feel almost giddy, but he couldn’t let himself start thinking about Patrick as anything other than the father of one of his kids.

“It would be more appropriate for us to discuss Jay during his weekly check-ins. Or when you pick him up from his community service hours,” Ken said seriously. “I can’t be on his case all hours of the day. That’s your job. This was fun, but it wouldn’t be a good idea to do it again. I’ve got to stay objective.”

“Yeah, I get it,” said Patrick, his smile melting.

Ken wanted to take it back instantly. The thrill of knowing he wasn’t the only one zinging from this insane attraction was muted by the reminder that men like Patrick Connelly didn’t go after ordinary guys like him. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I really would like to, but it’s just not possible.”

Patrick shrugged and grinned, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s no big deal. This was fun.”

“So, status meetings on Friday afternoons. You want to bring him to my office around four?”

Patrick nodded. “Yeah. Four is good.”

“Okay. I should get going. I’ve still got paperwork.”

“Friday,” Patrick nodded, not looking at him.

Ken tried to buy a bottle of water from the front counter on his way out. Jeremy rambled about Ken signing up for a trial membership and somehow counted back so much change that Ken ended up with exactly the amount of money he’d handed over. Then the old man snatched the water from his hand.

“I think you gave me too much change.”

Jeremy handed over a bottle of Gatorade instead. “That one. Trust me.”

“But you gave me back my money.”

Corbin wandered behind the counter. Like a tag team trading off in a wrestling match, Corbin took over the cash register and his father went out to watch another match.

“He gave me too much change.”

“No, he didn’t. Pat is the son my dad actually wanted. He’s family, so anybody he brings in is family. Don’t worry about it. Besides, you need the electrolytes.”

“I really don’t need the extra calories,” Ken tried.

“Yes, you do. But mostly you need the salt and potassium. If you don’t drink that, you’re going to feel like shit in an hour. Trust me, let Pat drag your ass down here a couple times a week and you’ll get a feel for what your body actually needs and what it doesn’t. And you should come by my place for a drink tonight. Saturday night I’ve always got a band. A shitty band tonight, but they’re working on it and the guitarist is cute.”

“Corbin, Ken is Jay’s new PO,” Patrick called, hurrying toward the counter.

“JPC,” Ken corrected automatically.

“Either way, he’s just here checking out the teen program. Hanging out at your place wouldn’t be objective.”

Ken recalled his vague memories of the previous night. He remembered the flashing lights, the deep vibrating bass, and a dark, crowded dance floor. He remembered watching Patrick and Corbin dance, moving together like lovers. “He’s right, I can’t.”

Corbin’s smile turned into a dramatic pout. “That’s a pity. You’re a raspberry vodka and lime kind of guy, right?”

“How did you know that?”

“I’ve got a good memory for my customers. You play darts sometimes. You don’t dance, but you like to watch. And you haven’t been around for ages. Off the market? Because if not, Pat is—”

“Corbin,” Patrick growled.

Ken sucked in a deep breath. He felt like the world was falling away beneath his feet, like the neutral facade he worked so hard to perfect was being stripped away by small talk. He swallowed and gulped in another breath.

“Please ignore him,” Patrick whispered behind him. “He means well. Most of the time.”

“It’s all right,” Ken replied quietly. To Corbin, he said, “I wouldn’t say off the market, just not really bothering anymore. And with Patrick working there, it’s really not possible. I appreciate the invitation, but it would be a huge conflict of interest.”

Corbin clicked his tongue and shifted his gaze between Ken and Patrick. “Too bad.”

Ken headed toward the exit. “It was nice meeting you,” he called back.

As he moved toward the exit, one of the tallest trophies, in a case right by the door, caught his eye. It was a fifteen-year-old Middleweight National Championship trophy with the name “Patrick Connelly” engraved on the plaque.

Ken gaped. “Holy shit.”

Corbin followed his gaze and laughed. “He didn’t tell you? Pat was one of the first national-level fighters my dad trained. He was damn good. I don’t
know
that he’d have taken the Middleweight World Championship that year, but I’d have given a hell of a lot to find out. That was a damn pity.”

“What happened?”

“Denise the megabitch happened.”

“Corbin, don’t,” Patrick warned.

Corbin made a face that was halfway between a glower and a pout. “Jay’s making friends on the other side of the gym. He’s not going to hear me. Pat and Denise met at a party one night, introduced by my sisters, of all people. I’d never, not in years of partying with him, seen him drunk enough to even pretend to be straight, but six weeks later, she tracked him down and told him she was expecting. Nineteen fucking years old, with a shot at the Olympics, and he walked away for her and Jay. And then when she finally figured out he wasn’t into her, she still acted like it—”

Patrick moved in a blur. Before Ken even realized what he’d done, Patrick had Corbin by the collar of his shirt and had hauled him halfway over the counter. “That shit’s over. You will not talk about it. And you will never call Denise by anything other than her name if Jay is within ten
miles
of you, is that clear?”

Corbin just laughed. “You think he doesn’t have a few creative names for her? He just knows better than to use them when you’re around.”

“I don’t care,” Patrick hissed. “If I hear him insult her, he’s grounded and he knows it. You will not talk about her like that.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

A towel fell between them, distracting them both. “Boys!” Jeremy shouted. “I’ve got parents showing up in ten minutes. You scare them and I’ll have both of you running laps until you throw up.”

Jay stood beside the old man, snickering.

Patrick let go of Corbin’s shirt and Corbin lowered himself back to the other side of the counter. “Once you get your ass back in shape, he’s not going to come to your rescue anymore.” Corbin sniggered.

“Just don’t talk about her. Please?”

Corbin’s smile faded. “Fine.” He clasped Patrick on the shoulder and strolled out from around the counter. “You coming in tonight?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” Patrick turned back toward Ken, fidgeting sheepishly. “Sorry about that. Corbin and I’ve always been….”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ken said. “I’ve got brothers. It seems pretty much the same.”

Patrick nodded and watched Jay bound ahead of him, out the door. Ken caught Patrick’s gaze and hurried after him. “Was that really you?”

“Hmm?”

“That trophy. You were a national champion? Like, Olympic-level champion?”

Patrick sighed and stared at him. Ken saw his gaze flick toward the door where Jay had just vanished. “Who knows? It was an off year. The Olympics were two years later.” He chuckled softly. “Like you said: sometimes life doesn’t go the way we plan. I would have liked to compete.” He glanced back at the trophy. “But it was years ago. If I had let Denise go back east alone, the closest I would have come to my son would have been sending child support each month. It’s not like I’d get the chance to be a father again.”

Ken almost tripped as those words sank in. Fifteen years ago, the world had been a very different place for gay men, even in Seattle. The idea of starting a family with someone he loved, of adopting or hiring a surrogate, had probably never occurred to Patrick as a possibility.