The Butcher's Son Read Online Free PDF Page B

grin, and, expertly dodging a waiter with a tray full of drinks, came up to pat me resoundingly on the back. I turned around on my stool, and we shook hands. At any other gay bar, we’d probably have hugged.
    “Now, as I was saying…,” he said.
    “Oh, come on, it’s only been five years.”
    “The merest flicker of an angel’s eyelash,” he said, grinning again. He caught the bartender’s attention and ordered a scotch-rocks. “You ready for another one?”
    “Why not?
    The bartender nodded and moved off to make the drinks.
    “Sorry to hear about you and Kent.”
    He shrugged.
    “It happens. Glad you’re still with Chuck…sorry, Chris …though.”
    It was my turn to shrug.
    “Yeah, but I don’t think it’ll be for too much longer.” I caught myself by surprise with that one. I usually keep my private problems pretty much private.
    Tom pulled a bill out of his wallet and exchanged it for our drinks, waving away the proffered change.
    “Sorry,” he said.
    “Like you say, it happens. And it’s not so much that we’re breaking up as that we’ve just sort of drifted apart. I think we’ll always stay friends.”
    We were both quiet for a minute, staring into our drinks.
    “So,” I said finally, “fill me in on the last five years.”
    Boy, did that sound stupid! Have another drink, Hardesty!
    Tom grinned. “I was thinking about that on the way over here, and I was really surprised to come to the conclusion that, other than my relatively brief relationship with Kent, nothing much at all has changed since the last time we saw one another. Not much to say for five years, is it?”
    “Your job going okay?”
    “So-so. I took the test for promotion last month. Didn’t make it, but there’s always next time, right?” He couldn’t quite hide a note of bitterness. “And I still love doing what I do.”
    I gave a deep sigh and took the celery stick out of my Bloody Mary, tapping the end on the rim of the glass to keep it from dripping
    “Wish to hell I could say the same.” I took a healthy and very loud bite. “I’m stuck in a shit job with an asshole for a boss…but other than that, everything’s great.”
    This wasn’t going quite the way I’d have liked it to.
    “So, what did you want to talk to me about, as if I didn’t have a pretty good idea?”
    “The fires.” I said, feeling a little awkward for imposing on a friend.
    “That’s what I do for a living. I’m in the fire department. Would you like to see my badge?” Tom said with a small grin. “You’ll have to be a little more specific as to which fires.”
    I couldn’t help but grin back.
    “You bastard, you know damned good and well which fires.”
    He looked off toward the back of the restaurant.
    “Is the patio still open? Maybe we can find a table out there. A little less noisy.”
    And a lot more private, I intuited.
    “Good idea.” I got off the stool and picked up my drink to follow him through the restaurant.
    The patio was open, and there were quite a few empty tables. Tom picked out one surrounded by other empty tables, and we sat down.
    “Better,” he said, and I nodded in agreement. “You know that I really shouldn’t be talking to you—or to anybody else—about this. It’s department business, and they’re pretty strict about not leaking information on ongoing cases.”
    I felt like a total asshole. He was right, of course.
    “Look, Tom,” I started to say, “I’m—”
    He held up his hand to silence me.
    “First, let me ask you why you want to know whatever it is you want to know?”
    I explained to him about Bob and the Ebony Room, and how everything seemed to be hanging on the arson report, and that Bob just wanted to know what was going on and couldn’t get any information at all through the regular channels. Tom sat staring into his drink as I talked. When I finished, he remained silent then suddenly sighed and looked up at me.
    “Did you know I was a fag, Dick?”
    Now, that I wasn’t