The Incident Read online

  They looked at each other, both unsure of what to say. Angel broke the ice in his typically graceful manner.

  "Man, you came a lot." He struggled to his feet. Michael could see Angel was hard and he wanted to please him, but there wasn't time and both of them knew it. Michael had to get back before Smitty got nervous or Kinter discovered Michael had left a rookie alone at the desk.

  "You asked for it," Michael said, smiling for what felt like the first time. He was actually happy and it pleased him to smile.

  Angel leaned down, pressed his mouth to Michael's, and whispered, "I sure did, and boy, did you give it to me. You are fucking hot. Who knew you had all that in you?"

  Michael got up and began adjusting his uniform. "Stay and finish up." He looked back at the table. "Leftovers. I gotta get back or Kinter will have my ass." He began walking away, his smile even bigger as he heard Angel sit down and begin to eat.

  "Tell Kinter that ass is mine," Angel called out over a mouthful of food.

  Chapter 3

  "What a day, huh?" Angel said and began to pull off his clothes.

  Michael tried not to watch as he began to undress. Was it really only last night that Angel and he had…

  "Festival's tonight. You boys going?" Reggie asked, coming into the locker room and busting in on Michael's thoughts.

  Angel was sitting in his underwear, getting ready to put his civilian clothes on. Michael saw Angel's uniform in a pile and resisted the strange need to go over and fold it for him. The locker room stunk, and where the smell would often trigger Michael's memory of the shooting, today he only smelled stale sweat and any number of odors that a group of men left behind.

  "What about it? You wanna hit the festivities?" Angel asked, purposely adjusting himself so Michael could see his bulge. "Or you gonna stay in?"

  Reggie laughed. "Michael Carmac staying in? No way, Mr Fucking social," he said as he turned away to grab something from his locker.

  "You'd be surprised, Reg. Old Mike here's got quite a bit of spunk in him."

  "Yeah?" Reggie said as he turned around. "I believe it, after seeing him choke the hell out of my soon-to-be brother. Spunk to spare, I don't doubt it."

  Angel laughed and Michael flushed.

  "Hey, Reg, you tell Kinter about that?" Michael asked, suddenly serious.

  Angel stopped laughing and looked at Reggie.

  "Naw, Mikey, you kidding? I wouldn't rat. That kid is a piece of shit. I know it and so does my girl. Why, did Kinter say something?"

  "Just wondering," Michael said, looking at Angel. "You heading out or what?"

  Angel nodded then looked back at Michael. "Yeah, I'll catch up with you later."

  Michael always came to work dressed in uniform and always left the same way. He was one of the few officers who didn't change at work. He looked again at Angel's uniform and even Reggie had thrown his clothes in a pile and was now picking through it to find his tie.

  Michael headed out and passed Kinter at the front desk. He forced a smile and waved. "Have a good night, Sergeant"

  "You do the same, Carmac. Take it easy."

  Michael felt Kinter's eyes on him and wondered if it would always be this way. Would he ever just be one of them again, or would his scarlet letter be an indefinite reminder of an accident that would haunt him to the grave? Even after his death, would people always refer to the incident, when and if he was remembered? These thoughts troubled him, and as he made his way to the exit, he could feel his lungs tightening.

  Outside, he took in lungsful of air. He heard the carnival in the distance and could imagine the younger kids running around with their parents. The carnival wouldn't get going until after dark. Right now, it would be mostly seniors playing bingo under the tent that would later be the beer garden and families hoping to have their fun, wear the kids out, and get home early to bed. Michael was grateful he was off duty tonight and hoped he didn't have to go at any point. Spending time at the high school earlier that day with Angel to insure a smooth setup was as close as he wanted to get to the damn thing. The fire chief had been there, strutting like a cock, and made thinly veiled insults about the police force, but neither Angel nor Michael let it get to them. They had wisely maneuvered away from Luce and his guys, and patrolled the school and grounds behind it, where the festival would be going on with little incident.

  Michael was about to get into his truck when he heard Angel calling after him.

  "Hey, wait up," Angel called out. He'd changed into his usual shorts and tank and, out of habit, Michael averted his eyes.

  "You don't have to look away, Mikey," Angel said as he approached Michael and pressed himself against the door of the truck. "I get it, especially after last night. I thought about you all night." He looked away and Michael found his unusual sweetness a total turn-on.

  "We're at work, Angel," Michael whispered, looking over Angel's shoulder, where a couple of officers were talking by the station doors.

  "You think about me?" Angel asked, ignoring Michael's warning and pushing harder against the truck door between them.

  "Angel," Michael started to say, but stopped when he began to smile. He just nodded and looked down at his shoes.

  "How about we hit the carnival tonight? I'll pick you up if you want," Angel said, his face turning a little pink at the offer. "I'd like to pick you up."

  Michael laughed. "You're crazy." Damn, but it felt good to laugh. "Okay, I'll meet you there around eight." Michael saw a little disappointment in Angel's eyes so Michael leaned close and said, "I want to kiss you so bad right now."

  This time Angel laughed. "I'll see you at eight."

  Michael got in his truck and watched as Angel began to walk away, then, without being able to stop himself, he called out, "Hey, Angel, is this real?"

  "Let's find out," Angel said.

  Michael waved, then drove away. He felt something crazy in his stomach—a nervous, warm fluttering that made him press a hand against his abdomen.

  This was crazy. It couldn't be happening. Angel and he were partners and yet he couldn't stop thinking about how right it felt when they were together—the crazy mixed-up feeling in his stomach and the way his thoughts seemed to race every time Angel was near him. Hell, he'd agreed to go to the damn carnival and that had been the last thing on his mind before Angel had suggested they go.

  It was strange that, although Michael felt himself open the door to his sexuality, he still couldn't quite break through the barrier he had built surrounding the incident. His heart pounded as hard as ever when he thought about that night, but this time he felt warmth begin to grow around the horrible scenes that always seemed ready to play in his head. Was there forgiveness for him? Everyone except himself had forgiven him, even the parents had managed to forgive him. Michael remembered the day Georgie's parents, Ellen and Keith, had asked him over to their house. Michael recalled how warm their house was, how many pictures of Georgie there had been. They had been a happy family.

  "We just wanted to let you know that we don't blame you, Michael." Ellen said it first. She even put her arms around him. Keith had remained silent.

  It had been a couple weeks later when Michael had run into Keith on the street when the man spoke the words Michael so desperately needed to hear. "If there is anything to forgive, I forgive you. I know it wasn't your fault."

  Maybe the warmth he felt when he thought of Angel was the same warmth he experienced at Keith and Ellen's. Was it the beginning of forgiveness, or was it a new layer to the guilt he carried? Michael took some deep breaths and returned his thoughts to Angel.

  What were they doing? What would happen next? Would they date? Even thinking such things seemed crazy and amazing all at the same time. After what Angel had confessed the night before, Michael found himself recounting any number of times there had been tension between them. Had Michael just misread their entire relationship? Had Angel really wanted him as much as he wanted Angel? His mind raced. Was Angel gay or bi? Did it really matter? Sur
e, Angel had told him about his previous dealings with men, but what did that mean? Michael also knew several women Angel had dated over the years and most of them lived in town.

  Michael was certain where he lay on the spectrum, and even though he could still feel his father's judgments being held against him, he knew he wanted Angel. Since the incident, he had kept his sexual appetite to an almost nonexistent masturbatory basis, but now, after last night, he felt like a cage had been opened and his hunger was ravenous. The power of love had set him free and he couldn't help but smile stupidly at the thought. What kind of fairy tale shit is this? Sure, Angel had been there during the worst part of his life. The incident had maimed him so deeply that had Angel not been there to help him through it, Michael would have fallen into an abyss so dark and horrible that he would never have come back.

  There would have been a time when his mind would have jumped at the thought of abandoning life and indeed would have started slip sliding into darkness, but now there seemed to be something else inside him, something he'd thought had all been extinguished. Michael didn't care who or what the reason was that he felt the way he did. He was grateful to feel that maybe he was going to get through the blackness. If Angel was the light, then he would gladly continue to follow it.

  He turned the radio on then opened the windows of the truck and felt the warm air, heard the old rock music, and tasted what he could only guess was the sweetness of freedom.

  *****

  After a long, much-needed shower, Michael went to his bed and lay down for a nap. Long day, crazy-ass week, and he hadn't really had a drink. His mind felt full and his heart was taking on the overflow. How had he shut himself off for so long? He switched on the oscillating fan by his bed and let the hum lull him into sleep.

  "Angel," he said. "Angel, I killed a kid." He looked down at the dead body on the ground in front of him. There was the smell of shit and piss, a clear indication that the body had completely relaxed. Then there was the metallic scent of blood. "Angel." He was crying now. He could feel hot tears. His head felt heavy and somewhere there were sirens, voices calling out, and, eventually, screams. There were two bodies—one, the man who had pulled the gun, the only one who should have died that day, then there was the smaller one, the kid, George, Georgie to his parents, who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  "You killed our son!"

  "You're a monster!"

  The parents were screaming, yelling, grabbing at him with burning fingers. The smell of shit and piss was growing stronger, harsher. Sweat ran into his eyes, mixing with tears.

  "Angel!" he cried out again, but there was no one. He was alone, but the voices, the yelling, didn't stop.

  "Angel!" Michael woke up calling out his name. He lay motionless, heart pounding, pulse throbbing in his ears. He swiped at his face and was shocked to find not only sweat, but also tears. His bed was soaked. He had pissed himself and he felt the hot wave of shame overcome him. The alarm he had set went off and, with a violent punch, he sent the clock tumbling from the nightstand. He stood and began taking deep breaths, waiting for the remnants of his nightmare to fade.

  "No," he said into his twilight-lit bedroom, the shadows his only audience, "not again. No more bad dreams." He smelled his own urine and was immediately reminded of that smell, the smell from that day, and he had to rush to the bathroom to vomit.

  *****

  Michael tried calling Angel as he pulled his truck into a parking spot, but Angel didn't answer.

  "Great," Michael grumbled. He had hoped they would meet in the parking lot and save him from having to search Angel out in the crowd. He got out of the truck and made his way up the small hill that led to the entrance of the carnival. Michael had just gotten into line to buy tickets when he felt his cell begin to vibrate. He checked his phone, saw Angel's name on the screen and answered. "Yeah?"

  "Where are you?" Angel asked over the phone.

  "Over by the entrance. Where are you?" Michael answered.

  "I'm right here," Angel said, tapping him on the shoulder.

  There were a lot of people gathering. Angel brushed against him and the electricity between them was intense.

  Michael was surprised to find his partner had actually thrown on a pair of jeans and shirt that was unbuttoned almost to the middle of his chest. He smelled Angel's cologne and the familiar scent of his body, which made Michael's heart begin to pound. Angel had exchanged flip-flops for a pair of boots and he had thrown on a couple of rope necklaces he sometimes wore when he went out. Michael also noted that he was freshly shaved.

  "Looking good, Angel." Both men turned to see a group of young girls walk by. One particular blonde who always flirted with Angel had been the one to notice Angel's appearance.

  He waved back appreciatively. "Hey, someone around here needs to look good. It may as well be me."

  The girls laughed and Michael didn't miss Angel looking at him and winking.

  "She's right, Angel. You look good."

  "Yeah?" Angel said. "Thought I'd try the regular guy thing on for the night. You know, the big boy pants and all that."

  Michael smiled. "How about a beer?"

  "A man after my own heart. Let's do this."

  They hadn't gotten all the way to the beer tent before Angel asked, "You all right?"

  Michael kept his eyes ahead. "Yeah, just a little tired, I guess."

  "Did you take a nap after work?"

  Michael nodded as they got in line behind Darryl Brown and Roger Dell. Darryl had just turned twenty-one and Michael could tell by the look on Angel's face that he was going to give the kid a hard time.

  "You boys have IDs, I suppose?" Angel barked, bringing up his bad cop voice and scaring the two young guys shitless. They both jumped and immediately procured their identification.

  "Yeah, right here, Angel."

  "That's Officer Angel to you, Dell," Angel said, handing Dell his license. "Darryl, you turn twenty-one in the last two weeks?" he asked, eyeing the other license closely.

  Michael couldn't help but smirk as Angel proceeded to razz Darryl Brown over the validity of his license. He also noticed Roger Dell's eyes had narrowed when he thought they weren't looking at him. Michael felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. These two were always up to something.

  "Angel, come on man," Brown started, but then, seeing Angel raise an eyebrow, added, "I mean, Officer Angel. You know I'm good."

  "You two better not be thinking about driving home from here tonight," Angel said as he handed back Darryl's license.

  "Hey, Angel! You messing with these boys?" They all turned to see Fitzgerald coming up.

  "Just making sure they're legal, Officer, I know you run a tight ship," Angel said jokingly. "I'm off duty tonight, but you know I always got my eyes open."

  "Get outta here," Fitzgerald said to the two shaken young men. "And you call him Officer Angel from here on out. He ain't your buddy."

  The two boys left the line and quickly disappeared into the growing crowd. Michael thought he caught Roger Dell stare back at them for a minute, almost as if he were challenging them, but then he was gone and Michael let it go.

  "You scared them off their suds, Angel. That ain't no way to behave," Fitzgerald said, shaking Angel's then Michael's hand. "You boys looking for trouble?"

  "Naw, staying out of it tonight, just kicking it. Any issues so far?" Angel asked.

  Michael had moved up in line, keeping tuned to the conversation Angel was having with Fitzgerald. When he took the beers from the woman who was serving them, his hands were shaking from the aftermath of the nightmare.

  "Thanks, Maureen," he said, then dropped a five in the old beer pitcher that was holding her tips.

  "Have a good night, Officer Carmac," she replied and he could feel her eyes on him as he walked away.

  "So, what's the business?" Michael asked as he handed Angel his beer, spilling some over Angel's hand.

  "Nothing. Quiet. A couple of small incidents, bu
t you know Fitz. He's on it, especially with Luce lurking around. That asshole looks for any reason to blame us for something."

  Michael nodded then took a long drink. It was cheap and bitter but the coldness was bracing, causing his insides to calm down a bit.

  Angel suggested they take a walk, so they did.

  The two men made their way through the noise and growing excitement of the festival. The music was loud, the rides raucous, and burgers, hotdogs, cotton candy, and fried dough were being eaten by just about everyone. Michael seemed to be witnessing it from a distance. The dream had shaken him and every sound was like an echo of his tormented dream.

  It wasn't until they reached the high school track and were sitting on the bleachers that Angel moved close enough to touch him.

  "What is it?" Michael felt Angel's hand on his back, warm and big.

  "Nothing," Michael said slowly. "Just thinking, I guess."

  "Well, stop," Angel said, leaning closer. "Let's go down there. No one's around." Angel stood up and Michael could see Angel's erection through his jeans.

  "You wanna go behind the bleachers?"

  "Yeah, I wanna go behind the bleachers. You scared we'll get caught?"

  "I had a dream," Michael blurted. "I thought they were gone, but I had a fucking nightmare right before I got here."

  Angel sat down again, let out a long breath, then took a drink of his beer.

  "It feels like it's never gonna go away. I thought because I was so happy… I mean, I was getting happy. I mean…" Michael looked away.

  "I knew something was up," Angel said, concerned. "Mikey, that's not how post-traumatic stress disorder works. You know that."

  "I don't have post-traumatic stress, Angel. Fuck that." Michael stood up and made his way down the bleachers.