Fanfic: My Only Piece of You | 1 of 3
For: kradamreversebb
Title: My Only Piece of You
Art Prompt: #10 by acquiescence_
Master Art: Main Claims Post
Word Count: ~26,000
Pairing/Type: Kris/Adam | AU
Rated: R
Warning: Um, language (definitely) | Angst (naturally) | Did I mention angst?
Thank you to: The fantastic anobakitay for feedback and edits and for pretty much being all awesome all the time. The Ernie to my Bert pennilesspoet17 for the read-through and edits.
Disclaimer: This is not true; didn't happen; kind of ridiculous. As usual, all mistakes and errors found in the final version are mine.
**
Three years ago
Waikiki Beach, Oahu, Hawaii
The warm waves lapped at his feet, small sprays of the salted water wetting the cuffs of his linen pants. Stopping at the edge of the water, he raised his face and closed his eyes against the mist of the Pacific Ocean, the balmy breeze moving his hair and lifting up the hem of his shirt; he dug his toes into the cool sand, the measured temperature change sending goose bumps over his body. Hands stuck into his front pockets, he inhaled, ignoring the sounds of the revelry behind him; taking in the ocean air and slowly exhaled.
Kris smiled sadly as he felt arms wrap around his waist from behind. He grasped at the soft, delicate hands and hugged them tighter to his body.
“They’re most likely watching us,” she said, burying her words between his shoulder blades.
“I know,” he murmured back. “Not for much longer though.”
“You can change your mind. We can just go back and abort this whole thing,” she said before lifting her head. She squeezed him one last time and pulled her arms back.
Kris waited until she circled around and stood in front of him. He cupped her face and dropped a kiss on her forehead, knowing they were probably watching; they had to be convincing just in case.
“No,” he said, placing their foreheads together. “It’s done. Plus, I’m sure they’ve combed through all the hotels along the beach.” He paused. “You ready for this, yeah?”
She nodded and grabbed his forearms, their arms hiding the movement of their lips.
“I’m sorry that you’ve burned through all your aliases these last few years. You’ve been there for me more than anyone, and I do love you for that.”
She nodded, “I know. I’m…I just wished things didn’t have to be this way.” She looked up and smiled. “Plus, I haven’t burned through all of my aliases.”
Kris smirked, “No?”
She smiled and shook her head, “Oh, honey. I’ll just go back to my very first alias, Megan Joy Corkrey of Provo, Utah.”
Kris laughed, “Nice. You shouldn’t have told me, though.” He took her hands and kissed her knuckles. “I’ll wire your share to your account after it’s been completed.”
“I know. And, I told you because I actually trust you with my name and my share,” she sighed. “I have to say, I’ll miss being Katherine O’Connell from Conway, Arkansas. She was such a prissy bitch of a character to play the last two years. Oh, and I loved being your wife.”
“And, I loved being your husband,” Kris laughed again. “On the plus side, you can go after your dream…be the singing sensation I know you can be.”
“We’ll see,” came the reply.
Kris sighed, “Okay, we have to make this good.”
“I’m ready when you are.”
“Just sucks that this has to happen at Daniel’s wedding…with mom, dad…and everyone.”
“I know sweetie. I know.”
**
Soft purple lights hung off the rails and muted yellow rays from foot-long candles along the wooden walkway lined the trail between the private beach and outdoor wedding party. The outlying patio of the Azul restaurant at the Ihilani Ko Olina Resort was awash in music and laughter.
Kris made his way back to the reception, holding his wife’s hand, but unsmiling. The next few minutes would be painful, but necessary. Their lives, literally, depended on it.
“Kris, honey, there you are!” his mother exclaimed as she rushed towards them. She stopped abruptly as she studied their faces under the lights. “What’s the matter? Is everything okay?”
“It’s not the appropriate time, mom,” Kris mumbled.
Katy squeezed his hand subtly, and started to tear up. She yanked her hand out of his, nearly smacking Kim Allen with the whiplash. “You’re such a bastard,” she whispered harshly, loud enough for Mrs. Allen to hear.
“Honey,” Kris started and reached out to her.
“Don’t ‘honey’ me, you piece of shit!” Katy screamed. “I can’t believe…how could you…” she cried. She blew out a breath and faced him, back to Mrs. Allen; she winked at him before punching him and storming away.
The music screeched to a stop and people stopped to gape at the scene. Kris reeled from the punch, rubbing his jaw, stretching and massaging it. That wasn’t planned, but definitely made an impact. Damn, she knew how to pack a punch, he thought and tried not to smile.
While the small chaos ensued, Kris made his way back into the hotel and up to his room. He surveyed the hall, his door, then slid the key card into the lock and took a deep breath before stepping into the suite. He quirked his lips, Katy…no, Megan now…had made a giant mess while grabbing her things and leaving the property.
Kris blew out a breath and walked gingerly over the broken lamp and overturned chairs. Carefully opening the sliding glass door and stepping out onto the balcony, Kris leaned against the railing. He could hear the music and sound of waves crashing onto the rocks surrounding the resort. Casually, he crossed him arms along the cool rail and carefully felt along the metal until his fingers were jabbed by the minor protrusion.
Curling his fingers around like he was angry, he scraped the small taped package into his hand as he shook the rail and opened his mouth like he wanted to scream. Kris balled his hands into fists, braced himself for the pain and punched the wall next to him.
The blood coral and black diamond pendant would be sold tomorrow.
**
“It’s gone.”
Adam looked up from his laptop and ripped out his earpiece, “What?”
He watched two of his field agents move around the makeshift office inside the Kuhio Beach Motel room they rented for the operation. Other agents stirred to make room for them in the cramped space.
“The Koko Makuahine, sir. It’s gone,” Agent Garcia repeated, handing the file folder to Adam.
Adam slammed the file folder onto the desk and stood up. “Shit!” He ran his hands through his hair and paced the room. “How the fuck is it gone? It was under surveillance for the last 48 hours.”
Agent Ferguson replied, “It looks like it was taken on Monday, sir. We’ve only been monitoring a replica for the last couple of days after we got our lead.”
“We fucked up the timeline…again,” Adam sighed. “Our intel’s been a day late and a dollar short each and every fucking time with this guy. Seven years we’ve been on his ass and nothing. In the three years since I’ve been worked this with you guys, we seemed to be closing in, but still nothing. After all this time we’re not even remotely in the same zip code in order to catch him. We don’t even have a complete description or photo of what he looks like. A name would be nice, too, wouldn’t it? What. The. Actual. Fuck.”
Agents Garcia and Ferguson hung their heads. The other agents busied themselves with paperwork and typing into the computers. The smell of beach, mold and bleach mixed in with fast food and too many people in a small space, making the motel room seem even smaller. The combination was draining the energy out of everyone in the room, especially having been locked in together for the last four days.
Adam stopped in front of the sliding glass door of the balcony and looked out into the alleyway below them. Trash bins, empty bottles, wrinkled plastic bags and traces of vomit decorated the streets. A few blocks over, the majestic palm trees swayed in the tropical breeze and the cerulean waves lapped against the soft sand of the resorts. The two sides of Honolulu, one postcard picture-perfect, the other a reality where the locals struggled to survive, both blurring and melding together in Adam’s eyes.
“Finish your reports,” Adam said softly. “Interview the curator, the gallery’s security team and the owner of the pendant. Double-check all the security footage. Let’s see if we can figure out how he got in and out of there. Check the files to see who could have made a replica of the pendant that even the owner and curator didn’t know until today.” Pausing for breath, Adam faced the room. “Work with HPD and comb the entire beachfront to see if the asshole is arrogant enough to still be in town.”
He watched warily as the agents got on their phones and left. Adam leaned against the wall and shook his head, “And, this will all be for nothing.”
Adam sank to the floor and banged his head against the wall. Three years and no closer than his predecessors. He had been so smug when he got the assignment from the director, had even mocked the other agents-in-charge for failing so spectacularly, yet in the end, he was no different.
Three years of running around the country and parts of Europe and Asia, and he was tired. The last 12 years in the agency had been good. Recruited before he even graduated, he had fun trying to outthink and outplay the bad guys. All these years at the Bureau and his reputation among the elite, with a 95 percent close rate thank you very much, was going to be shot to shit. Because of this case…this was the case he would be remembered for. This was the case all of the previous good men were remembered for, and not in a good way.
The “Pocket Heists” would be what drove him from the Bureau, not a mafia boss, not a drug kingpin, hell, not even a socially awkward, mentally unstable number cruncher or hedge-fund manager. No, it would be a tech-savvy, brilliant thief who was known for pinching millions of dollars worth of art and jewelry that could fit into a pocket.
Yeah, Adam was tired.
**
Kris waited patiently in the check-in line. Saying his good-byes to his family over breakfast and promising them that he would visit soon was tough. Being based in Conway the last two years had been an ideal situation for him, but he didn’t like being that close to his family. Too many things could have gone wrong, but he got lucky.
Now, it was time to let them live their lives without the threat of Kris and whatever alphabet agencies were after him. Retirement was around the corner, and he needed the respite. After making the exchange and checking his accounts last night, he shredded whatever bits of paper he had on him, dumped his pre-paid phone and cleared out any traces of him on the local ISPs. The decision had been made and he was doing it; Kris was making a clean break.
“Did you enjoy your stay in Honolulu, Mr. Allen?” the perky customer service rep asked.
Kris smiled, “It was wonderful.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed your vacation.” She pulled the ticket from the machine, “Here you go, sir. You’re in seat 3A. Enjoy your flight back to the mainland. Aloha.”
“Aloha,” he replied and eyed her hands as she stuck the tag onto his suitcase. After a small smile and a brief wave, he headed to the security line.
As he shuffled slowly to the metal detectors, Kris blanched as he saw two men, who were obviously Feds, cut through the line and speak with the TSA workers. They flashed badges and placed their carryon suitcases onto the X-ray belt. The taller of the two men removed his suit jacket, his shoulder harness loped loosely around his back, out in the open for everyone to see the standard-issue Glock 23 boldly sticking out. Kris couldn’t help but stare as the taller man bent over to remove a second holster from his calf, which housed a 40 caliber Glock 27. But Kris wasn’t looking at the gun, he was gazing his ass.
Kris jumped at the tap on his shoulder and apologized as he moved up the five feet he had fallen behind. Apparently getting closer to the security machines was important. Kris took a deep breath and turned away…he should not be looking at a Fed’s ass, no matter how nice it was shaped in the cheap-looking navy slacks. Kris looked up in time to catch a final glimpse of the men as they turned the corner; the tall man was scowling as he gestured with his hands at his colleague and they went their separate ways.
Kris was slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder with one hand and trying to buckle his belt at the same time with the other when he bumped into a hard body.
“Oh, shit. Sorry,” he mumbled. “I should have been paying more attention at where…”
“Sorry,” the tall Fed said to him. “I was on the phone and didn’t…”
They stood and stared at each other. Damn, he’s too pretty to be a Fed, Kris thought. And, those eyes. Wow. Blinking, he realized he was staring and quickly fumbled around to buckle his belt, completely aware of the painful pinch in his shoulder from his bag strap. “Uh, yeah…again, sorry.”
“My apologies,” the Fed replied. “No harm done.”
“Yeah. All good.”
Kris started to walk away as he fixed the collar of his shirt and re-adjusted his bag. He turned around and saw the Fed hadn’t moved; instead he was looking at Kris, phone still in his hand. Lifted the corner of his mouth in a small smile, Kris continued down the terminal to his gate.
**
Two Years Ago
George Town, Grand Cayman Island
Adam pulled at his shirt, the humidity making the soft gray tee stick to his back and chest. He walked along Cardinal Ave., deftly avoiding the mopeds and street vendors, smiling at the tacky t-shirts and other Caribbean-related souvenirs laid out on table-tops in front of small stores.
After leaving the Bureau, he was lost. Adam would be the first to admit that. Going out every night, clubbing and drinking…West Hollywood, Huntington Beach, Hermosa Beach, East LA, Venice, Malibu…if there was a hot spot or a cute gay boy to be had, Adam was there. He knew he looked like shit, was acting like an asshole, but Adam couldn’t stop; needing to exorcise the demons of his last case out of his body, his mind…his spirit.
He needed this time away to find himself and figure out what he was going to do with the rest of his life. Adam’s father had a ton of Marriott points and used them to book Adam a room at the Marriott Beach Resort, right in the heart of Seven Mile Beach. His room was literally steps from the pool and warm waters of the beach; his mom and brother chipped in to pay for his flight. Days of arguing and fighting with his family didn’t change the end result; he was going on a tropical vacation by himself. Though Adam didn’t really enjoy the beach anymore-not since Hawaii-once he arrived, he actually enjoyed it.
After planning out the touristy things on the island, visiting the turtle farm, snorkeling by the giant artificial reef hundreds of feet from the Marriott’s doorstep, Adam felt at peace. He smiled as he remembered the various postcards he sent to his family and friends from Hell, Cayman Islands. Neil would be pissed that he didn’t come along to visit Hell in person. Though, once he realized it was just a giant football field of black, limestone formations on the Northwest corner of the island, he would have been even more pissed. Adam laughed at the thought and of the souvenirs he picked up.
In one week, Adam had combed pretty much the entire island. Now, he had two more days of paradise before heading back to Los Angeles and figuring out what he would do for income. Until then, he’d enjoy the free-flowing rum drinks, seafood and smiling faces.
He consciously tried to avoid looking into the gaudy window displays of local Caymanite gemstones and other semi-precious jewels, but out of the corner of his eye, a window that showcased an elaborate display of black coral jewelry made him stop. His heart constricted as he backed up to examine the pendant in the middle of the bright white case. Heart pounding, Adam looked up to see the name of the store and find the entrance.
He pressed the button insistently until he heard the buzz and click, garnering him entrance. Yanking the door open, Adam stumbled inside. The sudden, quiet hush of the private showroom unbalanced him; the cool air conditioning was a stark contrast to the heat outside.
“May I be of assistance, sir?” a smiling employee in a dark suit approached and asked.
“The…” Adam started, then pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes. Carefully clearing his thoughts, he continued, “The pendant in the display,” pointing to the window.
“Ah, yes,” the woman replied. “Gorgeous pendant, isn’t it?” She put her hand lightly on his shoulder, “Would you like to take a look?”
“Yes, please.”
She indicated for him to sit in a low-back chair, in front of a simple, dark wood Robinson desk. Putting on a pair of gloves, she pulled a key from her waist and unlocked the glass, carefully taking the pendant out without disturbing the display. She carried the glass enclosed jewel delicately to the desk.
“Is…is it for sale? How much is it?”
She smiled, “Oh, no, sir, it’s not for sale. We have it on loan for our display case at this time, and only for a few more weeks. As for the price, I don’t know. We were told it’s worth about three point two million right now. If you would like to make an offer, I can make sure that the owner knows about it.”
“Can I speak to the owner, and maybe make an offer directly?”
She pondered the question, “Honestly, I’m not sure. I don’t know who the owner is, and our manager went through weeks of paperwork.”
“Is it…did it come from the U.S.?”
“Again, sir. I don’t have any of the answers to your question. We’ve only been given the details of the pendant itself regarding the gemstones. Would you like to see something else? We have black corals that are unique to our store…”
“No,” he interrupted sharply. “Sorry. Uh, no thank you. It’s just that, this pendant caught my eye, and I don’t think anything else will match it.”
She smiled coldly, lips thinned out, “Of course, sir.” She stood up and raised her arm. “I will show you to the door.”
Adam staggered outside and the rush of sounds from the busy street pounded his ears. The fucking Koko Makuahine, the “Mother’s Blood” pendant. The one that led him to D.C. to quit.
The narrow streets were packed full of tourists that had just gotten to shore from their cruise ships, but he didn’t feel the pushes and bumps of strangers on the packed sidewalk. Eventually, he tried to peer over and around them to find Harbour Drive where he could grab a taxi back to his hotel. The packed sidewalks and bicycle taxis let him know that Hog Sty Bay was close, which meant he was headed in the right direction.
He needed a drink…or five.
**
Kris finished his drink and headed out of the Casa Havana restaurant, stepping onto the patio to stretch his limbs. Sitting on an uncomfortable chair for a couple of hours with an Italian and Russian customer and British banker was never a good time, but now that business was settled, he was ready to relax. The sun was setting, pink and purple hues blending in with the leftover orange, melding into the blue sky. The palm trees hovered picture-perfect in the foreground. He chuckled to himself; Grand Cayman, always ready for its close-up.
He was feeling antsy, ready to burst out of his skin and he didn’t know why. Kris usually felt this way right before a big score, and he wasn’t doing that anymore. He was out of the game, but couldn’t shake the feeling from his body.
Kris arrived three days ago and took full advantage of every amenity of the Westin Casuarina, mostly the restaurants, spa, and beaches. He didn’t need to see the rest of the island; Kris had been here too many times before and had explored every inch…good, bad, ugly and beautiful. But, this time, it was different. He felt different and had a new appreciation for the island.
Tonight was his last night here, and he wanted to get whatever was crawling through his body out of his system tonight. Kris had a new job to prepare for…a civilian with a real job around real people for the first time in…damn, had it been eight years already? Fly through Miami, then straight back to Los Angeles where his new life was waiting; so why not go crazy tonight and officially shed his old life good-bye.
Kris wasn’t surprised to find a line around the building at The Next Level. It was Friday night and a crowd favorite, DJ Deliverance, would be at the tables. Locals and tourists alike were ready to drink and dance the night away. Kris nodded at the bouncer and cut his way through the line, perks of knowing people on the island.
The music assaulted him as soon as he stepped through the thick doors, the bass thumping through his body. He paid the cover, got his hand stamped and stood at the entrance, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark space and flashing strobe lights. When he got his bearings, headed to the bar.
Drink in hand, he leaned his back against the bar and faced the dance floor; watching as bodies writhed together with the beat of the music, dancing close to each other, hands up and over and around each other. He closed his eyes. Yeah, that was what he missed…what he was longing for…the close contact with another body, the intimate touches, the fevered whispers, even if it was for a few minutes, or if Kris was lucky, a couple of hours. Maybe in this next life he could make time to find someone.
Shaking himself out of his own pity party, he finished the rest of his drink in a swallow and headed to towards the DJ booth. As he passed a column, someone grabbed his bicep from behind, turning him around. Kris stared at the tall, dark stranger who held onto his arm.
He leaned in to shout, “Sorry, I was trying to get your attention earlier, but I guess it’s too loud in here.”
Kris shuddered at the warm breath along his ear and just nodded. The man didn’t let go of his arm, yet Kris didn’t realize they had moved until he felt his back hit the cool wall, strobe lights flickering over them. Looking up at him, his face shaded by the columns and dark shadows around them, Kris finally saw glimpses of gray eyes…or were they blue…lined in black, cheekbones and full lips that wickedly curved up as he smiled. The stranger was still talking, saying things in his ear; what he said, Kris didn’t know and didn’t care. Kris just continued to nod; his body heating like his blood had been engulfed in flames. This man’s hand traveled down Kris’s arm, leaving a trail of heat from upper arm to wrist, and he liked it. Their bodies nearly touching, Kris was enjoying being up against the wall in the dark with him.
He felt it; he felt the quiver of attraction, the jolt of energy, the pull of this stranger. It started at the tips of his fingers as Kris moved his hands up to clasp his waist. He felt it as the man’s lips floated above the tip of his ear, his larger body moving in closer, his hand sliding up and down Kris’s arm. Kris tilted his head, giving the stranger the non-verbal okay to touch him, to feel him, to kiss him.
Those sinful lips skimmed over Kris’s ear and move down to his jaw, then down to his neck. Kris grabbed a handful of the man’s shirt, unconsciously lifting it up and slipping his hand between the waistband. They both moaned at the contact. Kris shifted his face and searched for his lips; wanting-no needing-to feel that mouth on his; wanting to know what his tongue felt like, tasted like.
Their mouths met frantically, as if both were thirsting for the same thing. Kris immediately opened his mouth and embraced the rough texture of the stranger’s tongue; breathing harshly through his nose, not wanting to unseal their lips. His hands moved up and around the man’s back; hands cupped Kris’s face, brushed his throat while his mouth took full possession of his mouth, his tongue.
“Oh, God,” the stranger groaned after he pulls away. “Fuck this feels good, you feel so damn good.”
Kris didn’t say anything, but tugged him tight to his body so he could rub his straining cock, get the friction he wanted…needed…more than anything; he needed to get off in the worst way. He shifted so his thigh was in between Kris’s legs, and started moving, stroking Kris’s erection through their jeans. Kris removed his hand from the lean, muscled back and shoved it between them so he was palming his matching erection. Kris clamped his mouth over the man’s throat as they massaged each other fast and furiously over the beat of the music.
“Fuck,” Kris rasped. Their bodies jerked together in staccato, matching the blinking strobe lights. Kris leaned his forehead on his shoulder, trying to regulate their breathing. The stranger pushed back slightly, making room between them. Gripping Kris’s head, he kissed him again, making Kris’s pulse jump. He released Kris’s swollen lips with a simple lick and whispered, “I’ll be right back.”
Kris nodded and watched as he headed to the bathrooms, touching his swollen lips and smiling; then with a deep sigh, Kris made his way out of the club.
**
Present Day
Los Angeles, CA
Adam tapped his foot impatiently. He sat in the uncomfortable chair outside by the fire pit as he waited with an untouched cup of latte. His appointment was running late, and he was not a happy camper.
“Agent Lambert, hi,” a voice breathed out heavily from his left. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I had a last-minute phone call, and parking was a pain. I don’t know why I picked this Coffee Bean when I know the lot is always full…”
Adam held his hand up, “It’s okay. Just enjoying my coffee,” he raised his cup up in a mock toast and continued, “and the cloudy miserable day.” He lifted the corner of his mouth. “Oh, and it’s not agent anymore, I retired three years ago.”
The man stuck his hand out, “I’m Matt Giraud. And regardless of your status with the Bureau, it’s a pleasure to meet you, man.”
Adam shook it briefly and took a sip of his now-cold latte, grimacing at the bitterness. He waved to the empty seat in front of him. “How can I help you Agent Giraud? Please know that I’m doing this out of courtesy to my former employer, not out of the goodness of my heart.”
“Um, yeah,” Matt said sitting down. He pulled his messenger bag over his head and rifled through the files inside. “I was hoping you could help me with some notes on, uh…” he pulled out a notepad and file folder that had seen better days. “Uh, let’s see, yeah, um, Casey Walker? a.k.a. Mike Hoffman, a.k.a. Sonny Lester, a.k.a. Kip Harper, a.k.a. Nick Holden…”
“I get it,” Adam interrupted. “And, I don’t know how I can help you. As you probably read, I failed. My team failed. I had more than a dozen field agents on the case, but as we all know, the Pocket Heist thief disappeared three years ago and hasn’t been seen since. After that, the task force was disbanded. Most everyone from my team, including myself, left the Bureau or transferred to other departments. So, I guess, my question is, why me, agent?”
Matt cleared his throat and closed his file, “Um, you’re the only one still in the Los Angeles area, sir.”
Adam laughed, “Okay, you have to stop with the ‘sir’ shit, dude. I’m a civilian, and I’m pretty sure only a few years older than you. And, what does me still being in LA have to do with anything?”
“Sorry, of course. My apologies, sir…er, uh, Mr. Lambert.”
“It’s Adam.”
“Adam. Sure…and, um, like I said, you’re the only one from the task force still in Los Angeles, and I’m currently on the white collar crimes team, and I was hoping to get some insight from you. You worked the case for three years. Something has popped back up on various chat rooms and we’re getting interesting feedback from our UCAs and CIs…”
Adam cocked an eyebrow and leaned back in his seat, “Really? And what exactly are your undercover agents and informants saying? After all this time, we never even found what his real name is or what he looks like. And now you’re saying you’re hearing things about him? And that he might be in the LA area because you’re talking to me.” Adam laughed and crossed his arms.
“Well, we’re not sure it’s him, of course. He disappeared after he was tracked down in Hawaii…” Matt ducked his head and made it seem like he was busy flipping through the files. “I know,” Matt said softly, “that your team didn’t get there in time for the coral diamond, and he’s been off the grid since…”
Matt looked up at the deep sigh from across the table. Adam’s icy blue eyes narrowed and bored right through the young agent; blowing out a breath, he rolled his eyes, “I can’t help you.” He stood up and pulled at the cuffs of his shirt, “Good luck with everything Agency Giraud.” Picking up his coffee cup, “I have another appointment to run to, so if you’ll excuse me.” He tossed his cup into the trashcan next to the table, turning to Matt, “Please don’t contact me again. That chapter in my life has been closed.”
**
Kris smiled as he looked up in wonder at the temporary altered state of the North Quad. The quaint cobblestone courtyard and the rest of the West campus had been transformed into a magical forest straight out of Hollywood. This year’s spring festival theme was Shakespeare’s A Midsummer’s Night Dream, but Kris was still amazed at how much effort the volunteers and students put into their festivals and fundraisers. This year was no different.
“Mr. Kris!” a girl’s voice shouted at him.
Kris turned at the sounds of heels clicking along the stone to see the threesome of girls come running at him, hair, lace and feathers trailing after them. Smiling as Christi, Kemi and Leah, the giggling threesome that were as tight as sisters, approached; he kneeled down to greet them.
“Yes, girls? How can I help you ladies this fine evening?” he tried to say sternly, but could only hold back a laugh at their serious faces. “And, what are you doing running around by yourselves in the Quad?”
Christi, the bolder of the three, stepped forward, “Mr. Kris, we need you fix the music in the Science Library Theater.”
“And what is it that Mr. Ken can’t fix?”
“He can’t sing!” Kemi blurted out.
At that, Kris laughed…loudly.
“He can’t even play the guitar good, either Mr. Kris,” Leah said softly, shuffling her feet.
Laughing more, he stood up. “Well, we can’t have that, now can we?” Grabbing his program off the table, he said, “Come on girls, let’s see if we can take care of this, yeah?”
He grinned as he followed the girls down the path to the theater. Brentwood School…it was his salvation since he started two years ago. After fudging his resume a little, and with the help of trusted contacts, he secured an interview with the headmaster, and a month later, he was hired as the new music director for the school.
After selling off the coral diamond pendant, Kris wandered the world aimlessly for eight months. The time was to not only make sure that the Feds weren’t on his ass, but to try and figure out what to do with the rest of his life. Knowing he was sliding down a slippery slope, new technologies and new players in the game making it harder and harder, Kris wasn’t about to let a small hiccup end all his hard work. It was time to get out.
Through Katy, no…now Megan…he heard about the job opening in Los Angeles. He settled into a modest condo in Venice, hiding the paper trail of ownership, so it looked like he was paying rent. Add in an unassuming sedan and basic clothes, Kris let his neighbors think he moved to California to chase his dream of breaking into the music industry.
Kris had scoped the neighborhood and walked the streets, getting to know them for weeks before settling down. As he passed the various galleries and jewelry stores, he thought the niggle of temptation would worm its way through his body, but it hadn’t. He found he was able to enjoy the works of art as they were meant to be enjoyed, even purchasing a few paintings legally and decorated his place with them.
“We found him!” Christi exclaimed as they entered the theater. “Now he’s going to sing for us!”
Kris shook hands and laughed with the parents and alumni as he made his way down to the stage. He patted Ken Nahmias, the school’s A/V technician, on the back when the poor man sagged with relief at the save. The headmaster, Julian Wood, beamed at the crowd as he enthusiastically told everyone about Kris and the music department. Kris nodded at him as he took his guitar out of the case and took the stage.
**
With everyone else, Adam turned and stared as three giggling girls and a man in a black suit made their way down the aisle. This man’s profile looked familiar, something at the edge of his brain pushing and pulling at a lost memory. Adam continued to look at back of his head, as he laughed and headed up to the stage.
Adam looked down at his goddaughter, who was tugging at his suit jacket. “That’s Mr. Kris,” Maddie said. “I told you about him, remember Uncle Adam?” she said excitedly. “He can play, like, a gazillion instruments!”
“Oh, that’s him, huh?” Adam replied with a smile. “I didn’t know he was so young.”
“He’s not young,” she replied indignantly. “He’s like your age.”
Adam chuckled, “You’re saying I’m old, Maddie?”
She blew out a raspberry, “You’re mommy’s age, and she’s old, so that means you are, too.” Grabbing his hand, she tugged hard, “Come on, Uncle Adam. I wanna be up close when he starts. He’s really good at singing, too.”
At Maddie’s slight yank, he followed her down the aisle, apologizing as Maddie squirmed her way in between conversations and bumped into people. He finally pulled her to him and lifted her into his arms after a particularly vicious plowing into a man with crutches.
“Hold up sweetheart,” he said after helping the poor man back up. “Mr. Kris isn’t going anywhere. Let’s slow down.”
She tapped his shoulder, “But I wanna be in the front.”
He weaved in between bodies, Maddie on his hip, until they reached seats near the front; blinking as he tried to find two seats; the center sections of the first three rows were filled with women. Moms, teens…pretty much most of the women at the school’s fundraiser watched the stage with sighs and swoony eyes. Adam faced the stage, and whoa, yeah, Mr. Kris was cute.
At Maddie’s impatient wriggle, he put her down and followed her to two seats along the aisle, five rows up.
“So, this Mr. Kris is popular, huh?”
Maddie shrugged, “I guess. Mr. Kris is really good though. He sings and laughs and plays all kinds of instruments and he’s teaching my class how to play the piano!”
“He’s cute,” Adam said offhandedly. He studied Mr. Kris up on the stage; his black suit filled out nicely, plaid green and blue tie loosened at the throat, chestnut brown hair tousled just so, black rimmed glasses and strong fingers stroking the neck of the guitar. The man looked up and slid his glasses back up with a finger when Adam saw the glint of a ring on his left hand.
“Ewww,” Maddie replied making a face. “Boys are gross Uncle Adam.”
Adam tugged at the end of her ponytail, “Even me?”
“Weeeeell,” she said sighing. “You’re okay, I guess.”
**
Kris rubbed the back of his neck as the cheers and applaud died. He smiled shyly as the spotlight shut off and the stage lights came on, bathing the stage in a warm glow. The squeals from the junior high and high school girls broke him out of his reverie. After adjusting his glasses, he put a hand up in thanks and grabbed his guitar case.
He started to walk off the stage when he was tackled at the knees by a puff in pink.
“Hey, Maddie.”
“Mr. Kris!” she giggled. “That last song was so pretty. Will you sing it for us again in class?”
“Oh, um…maybe. I don’t think…”
“Maddie, where’d you…” a voice interrupted them.
Kris gazed up to the voice as Maddie quickly hid around his legs and giggled softly.
“Um, can I help you?” Kris asked, trying to keep from chuckling. He felt his lung constrict and his breathing falter as he stood face-to-face with the most gorgeous man he had ever seen. Well, face-to-chest since he was a good six inches taller than him.
The man had outrageous blue eyes stood out starkly from the black eyeliner and jet black hair that was slicked up in a pompadour. Why did he feel like he had met this man before? His height? His face? His lips? Kris slowly blew out his breath and smiled nervously. He was way too beautiful for his own good; instead Kris focused on the pin-striped navy suit and silver tie.
“I was looking for a girl…a little thing,” he replied, holding his hand up at hip level to indicate height. “She’s in a poofy pink thing with a crazy ponytail full of blond hair that’s totally out of control.” He ignored the tiny squeak and continued to look at Kris.
“Hmmm,” Kris said, crossing his arms. He tried to look at him and breathe normally. “I don’t think I’ve seen anyone match that description. Can you give me more details?” Kris squirmed at the tiny hands grabbing his waist and his thighs.
“I’m Adam,” he said sticking out his hand. “Adam Lambert,” as his eyes crinkled with laughter.
“Hi, I’m Kris, uh, Kris Allen,” Kris responded with a smile, shaking Adam’s hand. “I hope you find who you’re looking for soon. I don’t think I’ve seen you around campus, I thought I knew all the kids’ parents…”
Adam interrupted, “No, no, uh, Madeline is my goddaughter. And, I’m afraid I lost my little Madeline after your performance. I’d hate to think that I have to go home and tell her parents that I lost her forever.”
Kris shook his head, “She’s just a sweet thing, too. My condolences, Mr. Lambert. She’ll be missed.”
Madeline stuck her head out from behind Kris, “I’m right here Uncle Adam!”
Adam sat on his haunches and held out his arms, “Maddie! You’re alive!”
She jumped into his arms, “You’re silly Uncle Adam.” She turned to Kris, “This is my Uncle Adam. He said you’re cute, Mr. Kris.”
Kris blushed and laughed nervously. He removed his glasses, just to have something to do, and rubbed his eyes, and saw Adam bury his head into Maddie’s shoulder and shake it. “Oh God,” came the mumble.
Adam stood up and quirked his lips, “Uh…so, that’s not awkward.”
“It’s not a problem,” Kris said, still feeling the heat in his cheeks. He put his glasses back on and extended his hand. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Lambert.” Bending down, he hugged Maddie, “I’ll see you on Monday, sweetie.”
Kris told himself not to turn around. He knew Adam’s eyes were on him as he walked away, and felt butterflies flutter around in his stomach, which in turn made him even warmer and redder.
**
“Adam…thank you so much for going to the fundraiser for us tonight,” Liz exclaimed as they walked into the house. “I can’t believe we forgot that the school function was the same night as my boss’s birthday party.”
Adam hugged Liz as Maddie scurried away into the living room. “Don’t worry about it. It was nice to see the school and all that goes on there.”
Liz grabbed his arm as they moved into the living room, “It’s an amazing school. How was it? I’m sad I missed the decorations. They transform that place…”
“They definitely know how to put on a show,” Adam replied, sitting down on the couch.
“Daddy!” Maddie shouted and ran into her father.
“Thanks for taking our girl tonight, Adam,” Tommy said ruffling Maddie’s hair. “How was it?”
“Mr. Kris sang tonight because Mr. Ken sucked,” Maddie rushed out excitedly. “He doesn’t know how to play guitar or sing. Christi and Kemi and Leah found Mr. Kris and made him sing for us! And Uncle Adam said Mr. Kris is cute.” Maddie stopped to scrunch her face, then she laughed, “And Mr. Kris turned really red!”
Tommy lifted a brow, “Really. How red?”
“Like mommy when she drinks too of the adult wine or when Hank cries when he needs to poop!”
Adam buried his face into the couch, “Maddie…oh my God!”
“So, you met Mr. Kris, huh?” Liz asked, nudging Adam’s arm.
“Obviously.”
“He is cute,” Liz laughed.
“We’re not talking about this,” Adam replied.
Liz leaned over to kiss Adam’s temple, “Oh, we are. But, I have to put Maddie to bed.” She got up off the couch. “Come on, Maddie. Say goodnight to Adam.”
Adam felt a soft, little hand on his head and smiled at the wet kiss on his temple, “Night Uncle Adam.”
Adam lifted his face and smiled at the girl, “Goodnight sweetie.”
“So, you thought Mr. Kris was cute, huh?” Tommy asked, sitting down in the recliner across from him, beer in hand.
“Shut up, Tommy.” Adam toed off his shoes and lay down across the couch, stretching his legs. He folded his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. Deciding he had nothing to lose, “What do you know about him anyway?”
Tommy barked with laughter.
“What?” Adam scowled. “Just curious.”
“You’re not asking about Maddie’s other teachers.” Tommy leaned forward, long blond bangs falling into his face. “Did you even meet her other teachers?”
“Fuck you, of course I did.”
“Yet, only one caught your attention, huh?”
Adam shrugged and kept silent.
Tommy raked his hair back, took a swig of beer and rolled his eyes, “Kris Allen. No one really knows much about him, except that he’s amazing with the kids. A great music teacher, from what I can tell, got pretty much all the kids interested in music, which hadn’t been the case for a while. He was hired two years ago, background unremarkable, but he’s good. Keeps to himself, despite the fact that most of the teen girls, their moms and gay uncles have tried to pry personal information out of him. I guess that’s what happens when they all seem to have a crush on him.”
“And, you know all this how?”
“Have you met Maddie and Liz?” Tommy settled into the recliner and crossed his legs. He tossed back his hair and played with the bottle’s neck. “I know more about all the teachers, administrators, students and their parents than I care to.”
“I guess at a small school, that happens.”
“I see that your self-imposed celibacy is starting to crawl its way out of the dark cave, huh?”
“That has nothing to do with it.”
Tommy snorted, “Right.”
“What?” Adam asked, turning to look at Tommy.
“After that one last case and you retired from the Bureau, you were the biggest slut this side of the 405. Then, what, two years ago after you got back from your Cayman Island vacation, you stopped going out. You didn’t even flirt, barely looked at another man. We were all wondering if your dick stopped working.”
Adam closed his eyes and groaned.
“Now,” Tommy continued. “After a few hours at a school function, we hear that you think one of the teachers is cute. This is progress, I think.”
“Fuck you, Tommy.”
“I have a wife, darling, and you have a penis, despite how gorgeous you are,” Tommy snickered. “I’ll have Liz do some digging for you to see what we can find out for you about Kris Allen.”
“He’s married.”
“How do you know that?”
“I saw a ring.”
Tommy blew out a raspberry, giving Adam and indication of where Maddie picked it up. “Yeah, that’s why no one’s ever met a wife or partner. Nice try, there, Adam. It could just be a ring.”
“On the ring finger of his left hand? I don’t think so,” Adam stated.
“Well, I’m just going to have to find out what the story is then, aren’t I sweetie,” Liz said, joining the conversation. “Then we’ll know for sure.”
She sat at the edge of the couch and rubbed his shoulder. “Good to see you making your way back to living, Adam.”
**
“I noticed you didn’t change the lyrics the other night to Daydreamers,” Cale remarked. “I don’t think the ladies of the audience cared either way, though,” he laughed.
Kris said nothing, and instead poked at the potato salad on his plate. Cale Mills, the closest thing he had to a friend in Los Angeles. All these years trying to find the next “big one” and running three steps ahead of the law, friendships, never mind relationships, were something he couldn’t afford. He could count on one hand the people he could trust, but as he established a life here, a feeling he never thought he’d encounter fell on him like a two-ton rock. Loneliness.
They sat in the North Quad under the table umbrellas. The middle school and high school kids were using their lunch break to finish their costumes and rehearse their lines for the performance on Friday night.
“Earth to Kris,” Cale said, waving a plastic spoon in front of his face.
Startled, Kris peeked up and righted his glasses, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to zone out like that.”
“Not a problem. Everything okay?
“Yeah,” Kris blinked quickly. “Just a little tired.”
“Sure,” Cale nodded. “This is a huge production. Biggest the school has seen in the last five years. You’re making the previous music directors look bad.”
Kris chuckled, “Hardly. I think they just didn’t push the kids enough. They’re totally up for it, they just needed the right motivation.”
“So, any plans for your spring break next week?”
Kris shrugged and threw a napkin over his plate, “Probably just sleep. This week might kill me.” He looked over at Cale, “You?”
“Errands, man. Might take a day or two and head to Catalina with Gina, but other than that…”
Kris grinned, “That sounds like fun.”
“You should come over to dinner one night,” Cale suggested.
“Um, let’s play it by ear, yeah?” Kris hedged.
The first warning bell rang. Kris stood up and grabbed the remnants of his lunch, silently thanking the higher powers for the timely interruption.
“Oh,” Cale stopped in front of the trash can. “You joining us for happy hour at Father’s Office later?”
“Ah, I wish I could, man,” Kris said honestly. “But I promised the kids in strings I’d go over their part, then I’m meeting with Lucinda to review the program.”
Cale mock-slapped his forehead and laughed, “Sheesh, I’m not thinking. This week is going to be nuts for you. When we’re back in a few weeks, we’ll all go out and have happy hour.”
“Sounds good.”
**
Kris strolled out to the parking lot, digging through his bag for the car keys. He stopped short when he saw a figure leaning against a car parked next to his. Squinting, he tried to place the person, but it didn’t match anyone at the school. He listened as the sounds of kids waiting for their parents, other kids still rehearsing, filled the air, the fading sun providing enough light that Kris knew not to be worried. Plus, Kris knew there were people, security cameras and guards around should anything happen. And, after years of running from bigger and badder, the man by his car would be nothing.
Kris took in the blond hair, the white t-shirt that exposed an arm full of tattoos, the black jeans and unlaced Doc Martens. He was easily Kris’s height, only a slightly smaller frame.
“Can I help you with anything?”
“You’re Kris Allen, right? The music director here?”
Kris nodded.
The man launched himself off the car and offered his hand, “Hi, I’m Tommy, um, Tommy Ratliff…Madeline Ratliff’s father?”
Kris shook the hand and smiled, “Ah. I don’t think we’ve met. I’ve only met your wife, Liz?”
Tommy beamed, “Yeah, sorry. I’ve been on the road a lot, and haven’t really had a chance to meet her teachers.”
“Uh…”
“Oh, yeah. Um,” Tommy started. “I generally don’t do this, but I’m home for a few months, and I didn’t want to interrupt class or anything. I’ve been meaning to meet Maddie’s teachers and familiarize myself with everyone. Maddie’s been going on and on about you the most, so I figured I’d take a chance and try to meet you after hours.”
“Oh,” Kris furrowed his brows. “I’d be more than happy to make an appointment…”
“Nah,” Tommy scoffed. “I don’t do the formal parent-teacher thing. I’m not big on convention.” He laughed and waved his arms over himself, “Obviously.” He smiled at Kris and continued, “I didn’t realize teachers worked so late. It’s after seven, man.”
“I…” Kris cleared his throat trying to buy some time, not knowing what to make of Tommy. “We generally don’t. It’s just, there’s the production of A Midsummer’s Night Dream on Friday night…”
“Oh shit! That’s right. Maddie’s excited about it. That’s part of the reason she’s been chattering non-stop these days. I guess you let the elementary kids watch rehearsals or something?” Tommy paused and Kris nodded. “Hey, man, I’m sorry we weren’t here Saturday night. Double-booked ourselves and my friend Adam…he and Maddie didn’t give you any trouble, did they?”
Kris shuffled his feet.
“Dude, man, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything.”
“What?” Kris shook his head. “Oh, no. Sorry. I’ve been kind of zoning in and out today. My apologies. And no, they weren’t trouble. Maddie’s a sweetheart and excitable, but most kids under the age of 10 are.”
“Hey, this is weird,” Tommy stuck his hands in his jean pockets. “Can we get a drink and continue chatting? I’d love to hear exactly what has my girl excited this week, oh, and hear about the pretty song you sang that night.”
“Uh, I really need to get going, actually. I appreciate the offer, but…”
“Fuck me,” Tommy interrupted. “You’re probably exhausted and want to get home to your family. Wife’s probably waiting for you to start dinner and all that, right?”
Kris let out a small laugh, “No, uh, nothing like that. I’m just…I just have a lot of work to do, and it’s a school night. Maybe some other time?”
Tommy rolled his eyes, “Of course. I’m so dumb sometimes, not thinking. Being away from home for so long messes me up, and I just figure everyone else works on the same schedule. Takes a while to adapt back to ‘normal’,” he said with air quotes.
“What is it you do?”
“Oh, I’m in a band…play guitar, bass and sometimes keyboard. I’m with Midnight Life, you heard of them?”
“Heard of, but honestly, I’m not too familiar with the music,” Kris apologized. “Must be an amazing life though,” Kris sighed.
Tommy lifted a shoulder, “I can’t complain. Being away from friends and family for months at a time sucks though.”
“I can imagine.”
“Anyway, like I said. I’m sorry about cornering you this way, but I’d really love a chance to sit and talk. Maybe we can jam and shoot the shit about music soon?”
Kris laughed, “Sure. I’d like that.”
**
“So?” Liz asked as soon as Tommy walked into the house.
Tommy toed off his shoes and padded to the kitchen. “What smells so good?”
“Lasagna, and tell me!”
“Where’s Maddie and Hank?”
“With my mother,” Liz answered. “If you don’t tell me what happened and what you found out in the next five seconds, you’re going to be in a world of hurt Tommy Joe.”
Tommy walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer, “Nothing really to tell. Totally Adam’s type though.”
“Tommy…”
He took a swig of beer and sat on the stool at center island. “What?” He flinched when she punched his shoulder. “Fine. So where to start? Can’t tell if he’s married or is in a relationship, as he deftly avoided the subject. Definitely has a ring, and he’s guarded, like he’s hiding something. But, I can’t tell if it’s because he’s actually hiding something or he’s just not comfortable around people.”
“That’s not much.”
“Yeah, I know.” Tommy started to pick on the bottle’s label. “He seems like the loner type. There were other teachers chatting with each other, but he ignored them and headed straight to the car. It might also be a bad week since the spring festival is going on this week, the production is on Friday, and spring break is coming up.”
Liz leaned against the counter and bit her lip, “This sucks.”
Tommy finished his beer and pushed it away, “I brought up Adam’s name, didn’t get a reaction, kind of zoned out for a bit though. But, I said we should hang out and get to know each other and talk about music. He did respond a little to that.”
She sighed, “This is going to be harder than I thought.”
“You should let it go. There’s no reason for us to get in either Kris’s or Adam’s business.”
“But Adam finally showed some interest in someone. It’s been, like, two years, and I think he needs someone. He won’t admit it, but I know he’s lonely. The way he looks at us, the kids, Monte and his family, you know?”
“He just said the guy was cute, not that he wanted to date him or get married or anything.”
“But…”
Tommy stood up and kissed her on the temple, “If and when Adam asks for help, we’ll give it to him. Until then, leave it alone.” He perked up, “So, when do we eat?”
**
Kris reached for his alarm and shut it off. Shifting back onto his back with a yawn, he stretched out his arms and scratched his belly. Summer. School was out for summer, and the Alice Cooper song threaded through his brain; three whole months off. Sleeping-in never felt so good. He never realized being a teacher would be so much hard work, but he felt downright lazy compared to what he did in his past. He finally got used to this new lifestyle and schedule. Yes, it was busy in its own way, but it definitely beat staying up all night doing research or being out at all hours of the night scoping out his next target.
He rubbed his jaw and felt days of scruff he was too lazy to shave it off. He was being a ridiculous slob, but he felt like he deserved it after the last week of craziness at school. When his phone rang, he stretched across the bed to grab it. He smiled when he saw Megan’s face on the screen.
“Hey darlin’,” he answered.
“How’s my dear ex-husband this morning?” she laughed.
“Being an indolent, lazy bum. What about you? How are you doing?”
“I’m getting ready for my massage and pedicure. But before I head out, just wanted to see make sure you’re still joining me at the Applegate Gallery reception tonight.”
Kris fell back into the bed and tapped the mattress, “That’s the Correia Glass exhibit, right?”
“Yes.”
“What time do you need me to pick you up? Did you want to grab food first?”
He could sense Megan’s smile through the phone, “Aww, sweetheart. You’re so good to me.”
Kris laughed, “I need to be on friendly terms with my ex, otherwise the alimony could get ugly.”
“True. How about five? We’ll grab something at the hotel, then head over.”
“Sounds good. Black tie or just California casual?”
“Um, not sure. This whole LA art culture confuses me. It’s not as formal as New York or San Francisco, but not as casual as Miami or San Diego. Anyway, how about something in between? A nice suit and shirt, but no tie?”
“Got it. See you then.”
Kris kicked the covers down to the end of the bed and stretched one more time before getting up. Instead of singing like he thought she would, Megan transformed herself into a high-end corporate art buyer. Now, she traveled the world, legally buying photos and paintings and sculptures for boardrooms, hotels and people who had money but no taste. She had come to Los Angeles only a handful of times, inviting Kris to the various gallery openings, receptions and showings. Kris couldn’t believe that Megan wasn’t tempted, but she was always better at controlling herself than he was.
He checked his closet for an appropriate suit, finally pulling out a tan one. After tearing the plastic cover off, he grabbed a starched white shirt and hung them next to each other on the door. He headed to his dresser and picked out a pair of black onyx cufflinks and set them aside. Nodding, he went into the bathroom for a shower.
Towel-drying his hair, Kris ambled into the living room in gym shorts and an over-sized t-shirt. He booted up his laptop and checked the gallery’s website. Tossing his towel next to him, he clicked over to the exhibit photos. He squinted to study the Correia glass; the bowls and vases were gorgeous pieces of art, but it was the unique perfume bottles and paperweights that caught his eye. Kris balled his hands into fists as the tingling bubbled up underneath his skin. Ignoring it, he slammed his laptop shut with disgust.
Jumping off the couch, he headed to the kitchen. He checked the giant clock hanging from the wall; still had six hours to kill before he needed to get dressed and head out.
**
Adam took another sip from his wine glass and pretended to listen to the conversation between two people he was trapped between. He nodded to Mike, who was on the other end of the room looking uncomfortable in his suit and tie.
Both Mike and Adam left the Bureau after their respective failures in Hawaii, neither man able to deal with moving on to other cases and too drained and angry to continue on the one they couldn’t close. They went their separate ways months after each other, Mike moved to Dallas while Adam stayed in LA. Adam hadn’t heard from anyone on his team until Mike contacted him a year later. Together, they tracked down a couple other former members and put together a security consultant firm a few months later.
Tonight they were guests of the Applegate Gallery, a potential client. Mike flew in from Dallas for the reception. Both of them thought it would be a good idea to get a complete assessment of what they were in for before putting together their proposal.
Adam excused himself and wandered over to Mike, who in turn, took the cue and wandered away from his group.
“This is so not my scene, Lambert. I don’t know how you do it,” Mike said, wiping the sweat from his brows. “These people are ridiculous. It seems like they’re trying to outshine the art.”
Adam smirked, “You can’t let the artwork outshine you, Sarver. I think that’s the motto around here. You have to be as pretty as or prettier than what’s hung on the walls.”
Mike laughed, “Not a problem for you, pretty boy.” Mike perused the gallery with a single swoop of his head. “So, do you have this? I need to go meet with Andrew about the CCS meeting tomorrow afternoon.”
“Yeah, I got this. I’ll just stick around for a little longer, but I think I have what I need. Let’s meet up for lunch and go through our notes?”
“Yup,” Mike replied, slapping him on the shoulder. “And then the CCS meeting at three.”
Adam nodded, “Done. Have a good night, Mike. And, say hi to Andrew for me, haven’t seen him in a while.”
“Will do,” he loosened his tie with relish. “Good luck here.”
Adam watched as Mike headed to the door, and did a double-take when the teacher from Maddie’s school walked into the gallery with a stunning blond woman on his arm. The world around him slowed down as he observed the couple stroll in through the doors with giant, gleaming smiles on their faces. Kris was dressed in a tan suit and white shirt, hair sticking up stylishly offsetting his glasses, while she was in a navy, skin-tight strapless dress that showed off all her curves. In Adam’s vision, wind was blowing through their hair and their heads were tossed back in laughter. They were one of those gorgeous couples in commercials enjoying an evening out.
Yeah, Mr. Kris wasn’t just cute, he was hot. And, apparently, so was his wife. Of course. Fuck.
Adam tossed back his drink and handed the glass off to a passing waiter. He took a deep breath, counted to three and plastered a smile on his face as he noticed Niko, the gallery owner coming up to him.
“Adam, please, if you don’t mind, come with me,” Niko Ress said. “Megan, one of my favorite buyers just arrived, and I would love for you to meet her.”
“Of course,” Adam replied coolly. He could do this, no need to be nervous. He would see the cute, married teacher and meet his beautiful wife. They would have a conversation, laugh at the right moments like he meant it and then go home and wallow. Then, he would start his day all over again.
“Megan, darling,” Niko preened and air kissed her cheeks. “Looking lovely as always, and thank you for coming.”
Megan leaned in for a small hug, “Good to see you, too, Niko.” She eyed Adam from head to toe, taking in every detail. “And, who’s this?” she asked cheerfully.
“Please meet Adam Lambert,” Niko stated with excitement. “He and his team will be our security consultants, so I wanted him to be here to take in the gallery during an event and meet our most important clients.” Niko twisted his body excitedly to Adam, “Adam, this is Megan Joy, one of my favorite clients.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Lambert,” Megan smiled.
“A pleasure,” Adam gritted out through smiling teeth. “And, please, call me Adam.” He looked at Niko then at Kris.
“I’m Megan. Oh,” Megan exclaimed. “My manners. Niko, Adam, this is Kris. Kris Allen.”
“I, uh, I believe we met, actually,” Adam stammered. He watched as Kris’s eyes widened in recognition.
“Maddie’s godfather,” Kris said with a smile. He reached out to shake Adam’s hand. “Good seeing you again. It’s been a few months, hasn’t it?”
Adam nodded and ignored the tickle underneath the skin of his palm when their hands met. “Yeah, it has.”
Kris turned to Megan, “We met at the Spring Festival fundraiser at school.”
Adam’s heart lurched at the happy smile Kris had on his face. He looked for a waiter for another drink.
**
And, next | part II...
Title: My Only Piece of You
Art Prompt: #10 by acquiescence_
Master Art: Main Claims Post
Word Count: ~26,000
Pairing/Type: Kris/Adam | AU
Rated: R
Warning: Um, language (definitely) | Angst (naturally) | Did I mention angst?
Thank you to: The fantastic anobakitay for feedback and edits and for pretty much being all awesome all the time. The Ernie to my Bert pennilesspoet17 for the read-through and edits.
Disclaimer: This is not true; didn't happen; kind of ridiculous. As usual, all mistakes and errors found in the final version are mine.
**
Three years ago
Waikiki Beach, Oahu, Hawaii
The warm waves lapped at his feet, small sprays of the salted water wetting the cuffs of his linen pants. Stopping at the edge of the water, he raised his face and closed his eyes against the mist of the Pacific Ocean, the balmy breeze moving his hair and lifting up the hem of his shirt; he dug his toes into the cool sand, the measured temperature change sending goose bumps over his body. Hands stuck into his front pockets, he inhaled, ignoring the sounds of the revelry behind him; taking in the ocean air and slowly exhaled.
Kris smiled sadly as he felt arms wrap around his waist from behind. He grasped at the soft, delicate hands and hugged them tighter to his body.
“They’re most likely watching us,” she said, burying her words between his shoulder blades.
“I know,” he murmured back. “Not for much longer though.”
“You can change your mind. We can just go back and abort this whole thing,” she said before lifting her head. She squeezed him one last time and pulled her arms back.
Kris waited until she circled around and stood in front of him. He cupped her face and dropped a kiss on her forehead, knowing they were probably watching; they had to be convincing just in case.
“No,” he said, placing their foreheads together. “It’s done. Plus, I’m sure they’ve combed through all the hotels along the beach.” He paused. “You ready for this, yeah?”
She nodded and grabbed his forearms, their arms hiding the movement of their lips.
“I’m sorry that you’ve burned through all your aliases these last few years. You’ve been there for me more than anyone, and I do love you for that.”
She nodded, “I know. I’m…I just wished things didn’t have to be this way.” She looked up and smiled. “Plus, I haven’t burned through all of my aliases.”
Kris smirked, “No?”
She smiled and shook her head, “Oh, honey. I’ll just go back to my very first alias, Megan Joy Corkrey of Provo, Utah.”
Kris laughed, “Nice. You shouldn’t have told me, though.” He took her hands and kissed her knuckles. “I’ll wire your share to your account after it’s been completed.”
“I know. And, I told you because I actually trust you with my name and my share,” she sighed. “I have to say, I’ll miss being Katherine O’Connell from Conway, Arkansas. She was such a prissy bitch of a character to play the last two years. Oh, and I loved being your wife.”
“And, I loved being your husband,” Kris laughed again. “On the plus side, you can go after your dream…be the singing sensation I know you can be.”
“We’ll see,” came the reply.
Kris sighed, “Okay, we have to make this good.”
“I’m ready when you are.”
“Just sucks that this has to happen at Daniel’s wedding…with mom, dad…and everyone.”
“I know sweetie. I know.”
**
Soft purple lights hung off the rails and muted yellow rays from foot-long candles along the wooden walkway lined the trail between the private beach and outdoor wedding party. The outlying patio of the Azul restaurant at the Ihilani Ko Olina Resort was awash in music and laughter.
Kris made his way back to the reception, holding his wife’s hand, but unsmiling. The next few minutes would be painful, but necessary. Their lives, literally, depended on it.
“Kris, honey, there you are!” his mother exclaimed as she rushed towards them. She stopped abruptly as she studied their faces under the lights. “What’s the matter? Is everything okay?”
“It’s not the appropriate time, mom,” Kris mumbled.
Katy squeezed his hand subtly, and started to tear up. She yanked her hand out of his, nearly smacking Kim Allen with the whiplash. “You’re such a bastard,” she whispered harshly, loud enough for Mrs. Allen to hear.
“Honey,” Kris started and reached out to her.
“Don’t ‘honey’ me, you piece of shit!” Katy screamed. “I can’t believe…how could you…” she cried. She blew out a breath and faced him, back to Mrs. Allen; she winked at him before punching him and storming away.
The music screeched to a stop and people stopped to gape at the scene. Kris reeled from the punch, rubbing his jaw, stretching and massaging it. That wasn’t planned, but definitely made an impact. Damn, she knew how to pack a punch, he thought and tried not to smile.
While the small chaos ensued, Kris made his way back into the hotel and up to his room. He surveyed the hall, his door, then slid the key card into the lock and took a deep breath before stepping into the suite. He quirked his lips, Katy…no, Megan now…had made a giant mess while grabbing her things and leaving the property.
Kris blew out a breath and walked gingerly over the broken lamp and overturned chairs. Carefully opening the sliding glass door and stepping out onto the balcony, Kris leaned against the railing. He could hear the music and sound of waves crashing onto the rocks surrounding the resort. Casually, he crossed him arms along the cool rail and carefully felt along the metal until his fingers were jabbed by the minor protrusion.
Curling his fingers around like he was angry, he scraped the small taped package into his hand as he shook the rail and opened his mouth like he wanted to scream. Kris balled his hands into fists, braced himself for the pain and punched the wall next to him.
The blood coral and black diamond pendant would be sold tomorrow.
**
“It’s gone.”
Adam looked up from his laptop and ripped out his earpiece, “What?”
He watched two of his field agents move around the makeshift office inside the Kuhio Beach Motel room they rented for the operation. Other agents stirred to make room for them in the cramped space.
“The Koko Makuahine, sir. It’s gone,” Agent Garcia repeated, handing the file folder to Adam.
Adam slammed the file folder onto the desk and stood up. “Shit!” He ran his hands through his hair and paced the room. “How the fuck is it gone? It was under surveillance for the last 48 hours.”
Agent Ferguson replied, “It looks like it was taken on Monday, sir. We’ve only been monitoring a replica for the last couple of days after we got our lead.”
“We fucked up the timeline…again,” Adam sighed. “Our intel’s been a day late and a dollar short each and every fucking time with this guy. Seven years we’ve been on his ass and nothing. In the three years since I’ve been worked this with you guys, we seemed to be closing in, but still nothing. After all this time we’re not even remotely in the same zip code in order to catch him. We don’t even have a complete description or photo of what he looks like. A name would be nice, too, wouldn’t it? What. The. Actual. Fuck.”
Agents Garcia and Ferguson hung their heads. The other agents busied themselves with paperwork and typing into the computers. The smell of beach, mold and bleach mixed in with fast food and too many people in a small space, making the motel room seem even smaller. The combination was draining the energy out of everyone in the room, especially having been locked in together for the last four days.
Adam stopped in front of the sliding glass door of the balcony and looked out into the alleyway below them. Trash bins, empty bottles, wrinkled plastic bags and traces of vomit decorated the streets. A few blocks over, the majestic palm trees swayed in the tropical breeze and the cerulean waves lapped against the soft sand of the resorts. The two sides of Honolulu, one postcard picture-perfect, the other a reality where the locals struggled to survive, both blurring and melding together in Adam’s eyes.
“Finish your reports,” Adam said softly. “Interview the curator, the gallery’s security team and the owner of the pendant. Double-check all the security footage. Let’s see if we can figure out how he got in and out of there. Check the files to see who could have made a replica of the pendant that even the owner and curator didn’t know until today.” Pausing for breath, Adam faced the room. “Work with HPD and comb the entire beachfront to see if the asshole is arrogant enough to still be in town.”
He watched warily as the agents got on their phones and left. Adam leaned against the wall and shook his head, “And, this will all be for nothing.”
Adam sank to the floor and banged his head against the wall. Three years and no closer than his predecessors. He had been so smug when he got the assignment from the director, had even mocked the other agents-in-charge for failing so spectacularly, yet in the end, he was no different.
Three years of running around the country and parts of Europe and Asia, and he was tired. The last 12 years in the agency had been good. Recruited before he even graduated, he had fun trying to outthink and outplay the bad guys. All these years at the Bureau and his reputation among the elite, with a 95 percent close rate thank you very much, was going to be shot to shit. Because of this case…this was the case he would be remembered for. This was the case all of the previous good men were remembered for, and not in a good way.
The “Pocket Heists” would be what drove him from the Bureau, not a mafia boss, not a drug kingpin, hell, not even a socially awkward, mentally unstable number cruncher or hedge-fund manager. No, it would be a tech-savvy, brilliant thief who was known for pinching millions of dollars worth of art and jewelry that could fit into a pocket.
Yeah, Adam was tired.
**
Kris waited patiently in the check-in line. Saying his good-byes to his family over breakfast and promising them that he would visit soon was tough. Being based in Conway the last two years had been an ideal situation for him, but he didn’t like being that close to his family. Too many things could have gone wrong, but he got lucky.
Now, it was time to let them live their lives without the threat of Kris and whatever alphabet agencies were after him. Retirement was around the corner, and he needed the respite. After making the exchange and checking his accounts last night, he shredded whatever bits of paper he had on him, dumped his pre-paid phone and cleared out any traces of him on the local ISPs. The decision had been made and he was doing it; Kris was making a clean break.
“Did you enjoy your stay in Honolulu, Mr. Allen?” the perky customer service rep asked.
Kris smiled, “It was wonderful.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed your vacation.” She pulled the ticket from the machine, “Here you go, sir. You’re in seat 3A. Enjoy your flight back to the mainland. Aloha.”
“Aloha,” he replied and eyed her hands as she stuck the tag onto his suitcase. After a small smile and a brief wave, he headed to the security line.
As he shuffled slowly to the metal detectors, Kris blanched as he saw two men, who were obviously Feds, cut through the line and speak with the TSA workers. They flashed badges and placed their carryon suitcases onto the X-ray belt. The taller of the two men removed his suit jacket, his shoulder harness loped loosely around his back, out in the open for everyone to see the standard-issue Glock 23 boldly sticking out. Kris couldn’t help but stare as the taller man bent over to remove a second holster from his calf, which housed a 40 caliber Glock 27. But Kris wasn’t looking at the gun, he was gazing his ass.
Kris jumped at the tap on his shoulder and apologized as he moved up the five feet he had fallen behind. Apparently getting closer to the security machines was important. Kris took a deep breath and turned away…he should not be looking at a Fed’s ass, no matter how nice it was shaped in the cheap-looking navy slacks. Kris looked up in time to catch a final glimpse of the men as they turned the corner; the tall man was scowling as he gestured with his hands at his colleague and they went their separate ways.
Kris was slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder with one hand and trying to buckle his belt at the same time with the other when he bumped into a hard body.
“Oh, shit. Sorry,” he mumbled. “I should have been paying more attention at where…”
“Sorry,” the tall Fed said to him. “I was on the phone and didn’t…”
They stood and stared at each other. Damn, he’s too pretty to be a Fed, Kris thought. And, those eyes. Wow. Blinking, he realized he was staring and quickly fumbled around to buckle his belt, completely aware of the painful pinch in his shoulder from his bag strap. “Uh, yeah…again, sorry.”
“My apologies,” the Fed replied. “No harm done.”
“Yeah. All good.”
Kris started to walk away as he fixed the collar of his shirt and re-adjusted his bag. He turned around and saw the Fed hadn’t moved; instead he was looking at Kris, phone still in his hand. Lifted the corner of his mouth in a small smile, Kris continued down the terminal to his gate.
**
Two Years Ago
George Town, Grand Cayman Island
Adam pulled at his shirt, the humidity making the soft gray tee stick to his back and chest. He walked along Cardinal Ave., deftly avoiding the mopeds and street vendors, smiling at the tacky t-shirts and other Caribbean-related souvenirs laid out on table-tops in front of small stores.
After leaving the Bureau, he was lost. Adam would be the first to admit that. Going out every night, clubbing and drinking…West Hollywood, Huntington Beach, Hermosa Beach, East LA, Venice, Malibu…if there was a hot spot or a cute gay boy to be had, Adam was there. He knew he looked like shit, was acting like an asshole, but Adam couldn’t stop; needing to exorcise the demons of his last case out of his body, his mind…his spirit.
He needed this time away to find himself and figure out what he was going to do with the rest of his life. Adam’s father had a ton of Marriott points and used them to book Adam a room at the Marriott Beach Resort, right in the heart of Seven Mile Beach. His room was literally steps from the pool and warm waters of the beach; his mom and brother chipped in to pay for his flight. Days of arguing and fighting with his family didn’t change the end result; he was going on a tropical vacation by himself. Though Adam didn’t really enjoy the beach anymore-not since Hawaii-once he arrived, he actually enjoyed it.
After planning out the touristy things on the island, visiting the turtle farm, snorkeling by the giant artificial reef hundreds of feet from the Marriott’s doorstep, Adam felt at peace. He smiled as he remembered the various postcards he sent to his family and friends from Hell, Cayman Islands. Neil would be pissed that he didn’t come along to visit Hell in person. Though, once he realized it was just a giant football field of black, limestone formations on the Northwest corner of the island, he would have been even more pissed. Adam laughed at the thought and of the souvenirs he picked up.
In one week, Adam had combed pretty much the entire island. Now, he had two more days of paradise before heading back to Los Angeles and figuring out what he would do for income. Until then, he’d enjoy the free-flowing rum drinks, seafood and smiling faces.
He consciously tried to avoid looking into the gaudy window displays of local Caymanite gemstones and other semi-precious jewels, but out of the corner of his eye, a window that showcased an elaborate display of black coral jewelry made him stop. His heart constricted as he backed up to examine the pendant in the middle of the bright white case. Heart pounding, Adam looked up to see the name of the store and find the entrance.
He pressed the button insistently until he heard the buzz and click, garnering him entrance. Yanking the door open, Adam stumbled inside. The sudden, quiet hush of the private showroom unbalanced him; the cool air conditioning was a stark contrast to the heat outside.
“May I be of assistance, sir?” a smiling employee in a dark suit approached and asked.
“The…” Adam started, then pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes. Carefully clearing his thoughts, he continued, “The pendant in the display,” pointing to the window.
“Ah, yes,” the woman replied. “Gorgeous pendant, isn’t it?” She put her hand lightly on his shoulder, “Would you like to take a look?”
“Yes, please.”
She indicated for him to sit in a low-back chair, in front of a simple, dark wood Robinson desk. Putting on a pair of gloves, she pulled a key from her waist and unlocked the glass, carefully taking the pendant out without disturbing the display. She carried the glass enclosed jewel delicately to the desk.
“Is…is it for sale? How much is it?”
She smiled, “Oh, no, sir, it’s not for sale. We have it on loan for our display case at this time, and only for a few more weeks. As for the price, I don’t know. We were told it’s worth about three point two million right now. If you would like to make an offer, I can make sure that the owner knows about it.”
“Can I speak to the owner, and maybe make an offer directly?”
She pondered the question, “Honestly, I’m not sure. I don’t know who the owner is, and our manager went through weeks of paperwork.”
“Is it…did it come from the U.S.?”
“Again, sir. I don’t have any of the answers to your question. We’ve only been given the details of the pendant itself regarding the gemstones. Would you like to see something else? We have black corals that are unique to our store…”
“No,” he interrupted sharply. “Sorry. Uh, no thank you. It’s just that, this pendant caught my eye, and I don’t think anything else will match it.”
She smiled coldly, lips thinned out, “Of course, sir.” She stood up and raised her arm. “I will show you to the door.”
Adam staggered outside and the rush of sounds from the busy street pounded his ears. The fucking Koko Makuahine, the “Mother’s Blood” pendant. The one that led him to D.C. to quit.
The narrow streets were packed full of tourists that had just gotten to shore from their cruise ships, but he didn’t feel the pushes and bumps of strangers on the packed sidewalk. Eventually, he tried to peer over and around them to find Harbour Drive where he could grab a taxi back to his hotel. The packed sidewalks and bicycle taxis let him know that Hog Sty Bay was close, which meant he was headed in the right direction.
He needed a drink…or five.
**
Kris finished his drink and headed out of the Casa Havana restaurant, stepping onto the patio to stretch his limbs. Sitting on an uncomfortable chair for a couple of hours with an Italian and Russian customer and British banker was never a good time, but now that business was settled, he was ready to relax. The sun was setting, pink and purple hues blending in with the leftover orange, melding into the blue sky. The palm trees hovered picture-perfect in the foreground. He chuckled to himself; Grand Cayman, always ready for its close-up.
He was feeling antsy, ready to burst out of his skin and he didn’t know why. Kris usually felt this way right before a big score, and he wasn’t doing that anymore. He was out of the game, but couldn’t shake the feeling from his body.
Kris arrived three days ago and took full advantage of every amenity of the Westin Casuarina, mostly the restaurants, spa, and beaches. He didn’t need to see the rest of the island; Kris had been here too many times before and had explored every inch…good, bad, ugly and beautiful. But, this time, it was different. He felt different and had a new appreciation for the island.
Tonight was his last night here, and he wanted to get whatever was crawling through his body out of his system tonight. Kris had a new job to prepare for…a civilian with a real job around real people for the first time in…damn, had it been eight years already? Fly through Miami, then straight back to Los Angeles where his new life was waiting; so why not go crazy tonight and officially shed his old life good-bye.
Kris wasn’t surprised to find a line around the building at The Next Level. It was Friday night and a crowd favorite, DJ Deliverance, would be at the tables. Locals and tourists alike were ready to drink and dance the night away. Kris nodded at the bouncer and cut his way through the line, perks of knowing people on the island.
The music assaulted him as soon as he stepped through the thick doors, the bass thumping through his body. He paid the cover, got his hand stamped and stood at the entrance, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark space and flashing strobe lights. When he got his bearings, headed to the bar.
Drink in hand, he leaned his back against the bar and faced the dance floor; watching as bodies writhed together with the beat of the music, dancing close to each other, hands up and over and around each other. He closed his eyes. Yeah, that was what he missed…what he was longing for…the close contact with another body, the intimate touches, the fevered whispers, even if it was for a few minutes, or if Kris was lucky, a couple of hours. Maybe in this next life he could make time to find someone.
Shaking himself out of his own pity party, he finished the rest of his drink in a swallow and headed to towards the DJ booth. As he passed a column, someone grabbed his bicep from behind, turning him around. Kris stared at the tall, dark stranger who held onto his arm.
He leaned in to shout, “Sorry, I was trying to get your attention earlier, but I guess it’s too loud in here.”
Kris shuddered at the warm breath along his ear and just nodded. The man didn’t let go of his arm, yet Kris didn’t realize they had moved until he felt his back hit the cool wall, strobe lights flickering over them. Looking up at him, his face shaded by the columns and dark shadows around them, Kris finally saw glimpses of gray eyes…or were they blue…lined in black, cheekbones and full lips that wickedly curved up as he smiled. The stranger was still talking, saying things in his ear; what he said, Kris didn’t know and didn’t care. Kris just continued to nod; his body heating like his blood had been engulfed in flames. This man’s hand traveled down Kris’s arm, leaving a trail of heat from upper arm to wrist, and he liked it. Their bodies nearly touching, Kris was enjoying being up against the wall in the dark with him.
He felt it; he felt the quiver of attraction, the jolt of energy, the pull of this stranger. It started at the tips of his fingers as Kris moved his hands up to clasp his waist. He felt it as the man’s lips floated above the tip of his ear, his larger body moving in closer, his hand sliding up and down Kris’s arm. Kris tilted his head, giving the stranger the non-verbal okay to touch him, to feel him, to kiss him.
Those sinful lips skimmed over Kris’s ear and move down to his jaw, then down to his neck. Kris grabbed a handful of the man’s shirt, unconsciously lifting it up and slipping his hand between the waistband. They both moaned at the contact. Kris shifted his face and searched for his lips; wanting-no needing-to feel that mouth on his; wanting to know what his tongue felt like, tasted like.
Their mouths met frantically, as if both were thirsting for the same thing. Kris immediately opened his mouth and embraced the rough texture of the stranger’s tongue; breathing harshly through his nose, not wanting to unseal their lips. His hands moved up and around the man’s back; hands cupped Kris’s face, brushed his throat while his mouth took full possession of his mouth, his tongue.
“Oh, God,” the stranger groaned after he pulls away. “Fuck this feels good, you feel so damn good.”
Kris didn’t say anything, but tugged him tight to his body so he could rub his straining cock, get the friction he wanted…needed…more than anything; he needed to get off in the worst way. He shifted so his thigh was in between Kris’s legs, and started moving, stroking Kris’s erection through their jeans. Kris removed his hand from the lean, muscled back and shoved it between them so he was palming his matching erection. Kris clamped his mouth over the man’s throat as they massaged each other fast and furiously over the beat of the music.
“Fuck,” Kris rasped. Their bodies jerked together in staccato, matching the blinking strobe lights. Kris leaned his forehead on his shoulder, trying to regulate their breathing. The stranger pushed back slightly, making room between them. Gripping Kris’s head, he kissed him again, making Kris’s pulse jump. He released Kris’s swollen lips with a simple lick and whispered, “I’ll be right back.”
Kris nodded and watched as he headed to the bathrooms, touching his swollen lips and smiling; then with a deep sigh, Kris made his way out of the club.
**
Present Day
Los Angeles, CA
Adam tapped his foot impatiently. He sat in the uncomfortable chair outside by the fire pit as he waited with an untouched cup of latte. His appointment was running late, and he was not a happy camper.
“Agent Lambert, hi,” a voice breathed out heavily from his left. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I had a last-minute phone call, and parking was a pain. I don’t know why I picked this Coffee Bean when I know the lot is always full…”
Adam held his hand up, “It’s okay. Just enjoying my coffee,” he raised his cup up in a mock toast and continued, “and the cloudy miserable day.” He lifted the corner of his mouth. “Oh, and it’s not agent anymore, I retired three years ago.”
The man stuck his hand out, “I’m Matt Giraud. And regardless of your status with the Bureau, it’s a pleasure to meet you, man.”
Adam shook it briefly and took a sip of his now-cold latte, grimacing at the bitterness. He waved to the empty seat in front of him. “How can I help you Agent Giraud? Please know that I’m doing this out of courtesy to my former employer, not out of the goodness of my heart.”
“Um, yeah,” Matt said sitting down. He pulled his messenger bag over his head and rifled through the files inside. “I was hoping you could help me with some notes on, uh…” he pulled out a notepad and file folder that had seen better days. “Uh, let’s see, yeah, um, Casey Walker? a.k.a. Mike Hoffman, a.k.a. Sonny Lester, a.k.a. Kip Harper, a.k.a. Nick Holden…”
“I get it,” Adam interrupted. “And, I don’t know how I can help you. As you probably read, I failed. My team failed. I had more than a dozen field agents on the case, but as we all know, the Pocket Heist thief disappeared three years ago and hasn’t been seen since. After that, the task force was disbanded. Most everyone from my team, including myself, left the Bureau or transferred to other departments. So, I guess, my question is, why me, agent?”
Matt cleared his throat and closed his file, “Um, you’re the only one still in the Los Angeles area, sir.”
Adam laughed, “Okay, you have to stop with the ‘sir’ shit, dude. I’m a civilian, and I’m pretty sure only a few years older than you. And, what does me still being in LA have to do with anything?”
“Sorry, of course. My apologies, sir…er, uh, Mr. Lambert.”
“It’s Adam.”
“Adam. Sure…and, um, like I said, you’re the only one from the task force still in Los Angeles, and I’m currently on the white collar crimes team, and I was hoping to get some insight from you. You worked the case for three years. Something has popped back up on various chat rooms and we’re getting interesting feedback from our UCAs and CIs…”
Adam cocked an eyebrow and leaned back in his seat, “Really? And what exactly are your undercover agents and informants saying? After all this time, we never even found what his real name is or what he looks like. And now you’re saying you’re hearing things about him? And that he might be in the LA area because you’re talking to me.” Adam laughed and crossed his arms.
“Well, we’re not sure it’s him, of course. He disappeared after he was tracked down in Hawaii…” Matt ducked his head and made it seem like he was busy flipping through the files. “I know,” Matt said softly, “that your team didn’t get there in time for the coral diamond, and he’s been off the grid since…”
Matt looked up at the deep sigh from across the table. Adam’s icy blue eyes narrowed and bored right through the young agent; blowing out a breath, he rolled his eyes, “I can’t help you.” He stood up and pulled at the cuffs of his shirt, “Good luck with everything Agency Giraud.” Picking up his coffee cup, “I have another appointment to run to, so if you’ll excuse me.” He tossed his cup into the trashcan next to the table, turning to Matt, “Please don’t contact me again. That chapter in my life has been closed.”
**
Kris smiled as he looked up in wonder at the temporary altered state of the North Quad. The quaint cobblestone courtyard and the rest of the West campus had been transformed into a magical forest straight out of Hollywood. This year’s spring festival theme was Shakespeare’s A Midsummer’s Night Dream, but Kris was still amazed at how much effort the volunteers and students put into their festivals and fundraisers. This year was no different.
“Mr. Kris!” a girl’s voice shouted at him.
Kris turned at the sounds of heels clicking along the stone to see the threesome of girls come running at him, hair, lace and feathers trailing after them. Smiling as Christi, Kemi and Leah, the giggling threesome that were as tight as sisters, approached; he kneeled down to greet them.
“Yes, girls? How can I help you ladies this fine evening?” he tried to say sternly, but could only hold back a laugh at their serious faces. “And, what are you doing running around by yourselves in the Quad?”
Christi, the bolder of the three, stepped forward, “Mr. Kris, we need you fix the music in the Science Library Theater.”
“And what is it that Mr. Ken can’t fix?”
“He can’t sing!” Kemi blurted out.
At that, Kris laughed…loudly.
“He can’t even play the guitar good, either Mr. Kris,” Leah said softly, shuffling her feet.
Laughing more, he stood up. “Well, we can’t have that, now can we?” Grabbing his program off the table, he said, “Come on girls, let’s see if we can take care of this, yeah?”
He grinned as he followed the girls down the path to the theater. Brentwood School…it was his salvation since he started two years ago. After fudging his resume a little, and with the help of trusted contacts, he secured an interview with the headmaster, and a month later, he was hired as the new music director for the school.
After selling off the coral diamond pendant, Kris wandered the world aimlessly for eight months. The time was to not only make sure that the Feds weren’t on his ass, but to try and figure out what to do with the rest of his life. Knowing he was sliding down a slippery slope, new technologies and new players in the game making it harder and harder, Kris wasn’t about to let a small hiccup end all his hard work. It was time to get out.
Through Katy, no…now Megan…he heard about the job opening in Los Angeles. He settled into a modest condo in Venice, hiding the paper trail of ownership, so it looked like he was paying rent. Add in an unassuming sedan and basic clothes, Kris let his neighbors think he moved to California to chase his dream of breaking into the music industry.
Kris had scoped the neighborhood and walked the streets, getting to know them for weeks before settling down. As he passed the various galleries and jewelry stores, he thought the niggle of temptation would worm its way through his body, but it hadn’t. He found he was able to enjoy the works of art as they were meant to be enjoyed, even purchasing a few paintings legally and decorated his place with them.
“We found him!” Christi exclaimed as they entered the theater. “Now he’s going to sing for us!”
Kris shook hands and laughed with the parents and alumni as he made his way down to the stage. He patted Ken Nahmias, the school’s A/V technician, on the back when the poor man sagged with relief at the save. The headmaster, Julian Wood, beamed at the crowd as he enthusiastically told everyone about Kris and the music department. Kris nodded at him as he took his guitar out of the case and took the stage.
**
With everyone else, Adam turned and stared as three giggling girls and a man in a black suit made their way down the aisle. This man’s profile looked familiar, something at the edge of his brain pushing and pulling at a lost memory. Adam continued to look at back of his head, as he laughed and headed up to the stage.
Adam looked down at his goddaughter, who was tugging at his suit jacket. “That’s Mr. Kris,” Maddie said. “I told you about him, remember Uncle Adam?” she said excitedly. “He can play, like, a gazillion instruments!”
“Oh, that’s him, huh?” Adam replied with a smile. “I didn’t know he was so young.”
“He’s not young,” she replied indignantly. “He’s like your age.”
Adam chuckled, “You’re saying I’m old, Maddie?”
She blew out a raspberry, “You’re mommy’s age, and she’s old, so that means you are, too.” Grabbing his hand, she tugged hard, “Come on, Uncle Adam. I wanna be up close when he starts. He’s really good at singing, too.”
At Maddie’s slight yank, he followed her down the aisle, apologizing as Maddie squirmed her way in between conversations and bumped into people. He finally pulled her to him and lifted her into his arms after a particularly vicious plowing into a man with crutches.
“Hold up sweetheart,” he said after helping the poor man back up. “Mr. Kris isn’t going anywhere. Let’s slow down.”
She tapped his shoulder, “But I wanna be in the front.”
He weaved in between bodies, Maddie on his hip, until they reached seats near the front; blinking as he tried to find two seats; the center sections of the first three rows were filled with women. Moms, teens…pretty much most of the women at the school’s fundraiser watched the stage with sighs and swoony eyes. Adam faced the stage, and whoa, yeah, Mr. Kris was cute.
At Maddie’s impatient wriggle, he put her down and followed her to two seats along the aisle, five rows up.
“So, this Mr. Kris is popular, huh?”
Maddie shrugged, “I guess. Mr. Kris is really good though. He sings and laughs and plays all kinds of instruments and he’s teaching my class how to play the piano!”
“He’s cute,” Adam said offhandedly. He studied Mr. Kris up on the stage; his black suit filled out nicely, plaid green and blue tie loosened at the throat, chestnut brown hair tousled just so, black rimmed glasses and strong fingers stroking the neck of the guitar. The man looked up and slid his glasses back up with a finger when Adam saw the glint of a ring on his left hand.
“Ewww,” Maddie replied making a face. “Boys are gross Uncle Adam.”
Adam tugged at the end of her ponytail, “Even me?”
“Weeeeell,” she said sighing. “You’re okay, I guess.”
**
Kris rubbed the back of his neck as the cheers and applaud died. He smiled shyly as the spotlight shut off and the stage lights came on, bathing the stage in a warm glow. The squeals from the junior high and high school girls broke him out of his reverie. After adjusting his glasses, he put a hand up in thanks and grabbed his guitar case.
He started to walk off the stage when he was tackled at the knees by a puff in pink.
“Hey, Maddie.”
“Mr. Kris!” she giggled. “That last song was so pretty. Will you sing it for us again in class?”
“Oh, um…maybe. I don’t think…”
“Maddie, where’d you…” a voice interrupted them.
Kris gazed up to the voice as Maddie quickly hid around his legs and giggled softly.
“Um, can I help you?” Kris asked, trying to keep from chuckling. He felt his lung constrict and his breathing falter as he stood face-to-face with the most gorgeous man he had ever seen. Well, face-to-chest since he was a good six inches taller than him.
The man had outrageous blue eyes stood out starkly from the black eyeliner and jet black hair that was slicked up in a pompadour. Why did he feel like he had met this man before? His height? His face? His lips? Kris slowly blew out his breath and smiled nervously. He was way too beautiful for his own good; instead Kris focused on the pin-striped navy suit and silver tie.
“I was looking for a girl…a little thing,” he replied, holding his hand up at hip level to indicate height. “She’s in a poofy pink thing with a crazy ponytail full of blond hair that’s totally out of control.” He ignored the tiny squeak and continued to look at Kris.
“Hmmm,” Kris said, crossing his arms. He tried to look at him and breathe normally. “I don’t think I’ve seen anyone match that description. Can you give me more details?” Kris squirmed at the tiny hands grabbing his waist and his thighs.
“I’m Adam,” he said sticking out his hand. “Adam Lambert,” as his eyes crinkled with laughter.
“Hi, I’m Kris, uh, Kris Allen,” Kris responded with a smile, shaking Adam’s hand. “I hope you find who you’re looking for soon. I don’t think I’ve seen you around campus, I thought I knew all the kids’ parents…”
Adam interrupted, “No, no, uh, Madeline is my goddaughter. And, I’m afraid I lost my little Madeline after your performance. I’d hate to think that I have to go home and tell her parents that I lost her forever.”
Kris shook his head, “She’s just a sweet thing, too. My condolences, Mr. Lambert. She’ll be missed.”
Madeline stuck her head out from behind Kris, “I’m right here Uncle Adam!”
Adam sat on his haunches and held out his arms, “Maddie! You’re alive!”
She jumped into his arms, “You’re silly Uncle Adam.” She turned to Kris, “This is my Uncle Adam. He said you’re cute, Mr. Kris.”
Kris blushed and laughed nervously. He removed his glasses, just to have something to do, and rubbed his eyes, and saw Adam bury his head into Maddie’s shoulder and shake it. “Oh God,” came the mumble.
Adam stood up and quirked his lips, “Uh…so, that’s not awkward.”
“It’s not a problem,” Kris said, still feeling the heat in his cheeks. He put his glasses back on and extended his hand. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Lambert.” Bending down, he hugged Maddie, “I’ll see you on Monday, sweetie.”
Kris told himself not to turn around. He knew Adam’s eyes were on him as he walked away, and felt butterflies flutter around in his stomach, which in turn made him even warmer and redder.
**
“Adam…thank you so much for going to the fundraiser for us tonight,” Liz exclaimed as they walked into the house. “I can’t believe we forgot that the school function was the same night as my boss’s birthday party.”
Adam hugged Liz as Maddie scurried away into the living room. “Don’t worry about it. It was nice to see the school and all that goes on there.”
Liz grabbed his arm as they moved into the living room, “It’s an amazing school. How was it? I’m sad I missed the decorations. They transform that place…”
“They definitely know how to put on a show,” Adam replied, sitting down on the couch.
“Daddy!” Maddie shouted and ran into her father.
“Thanks for taking our girl tonight, Adam,” Tommy said ruffling Maddie’s hair. “How was it?”
“Mr. Kris sang tonight because Mr. Ken sucked,” Maddie rushed out excitedly. “He doesn’t know how to play guitar or sing. Christi and Kemi and Leah found Mr. Kris and made him sing for us! And Uncle Adam said Mr. Kris is cute.” Maddie stopped to scrunch her face, then she laughed, “And Mr. Kris turned really red!”
Tommy lifted a brow, “Really. How red?”
“Like mommy when she drinks too of the adult wine or when Hank cries when he needs to poop!”
Adam buried his face into the couch, “Maddie…oh my God!”
“So, you met Mr. Kris, huh?” Liz asked, nudging Adam’s arm.
“Obviously.”
“He is cute,” Liz laughed.
“We’re not talking about this,” Adam replied.
Liz leaned over to kiss Adam’s temple, “Oh, we are. But, I have to put Maddie to bed.” She got up off the couch. “Come on, Maddie. Say goodnight to Adam.”
Adam felt a soft, little hand on his head and smiled at the wet kiss on his temple, “Night Uncle Adam.”
Adam lifted his face and smiled at the girl, “Goodnight sweetie.”
“So, you thought Mr. Kris was cute, huh?” Tommy asked, sitting down in the recliner across from him, beer in hand.
“Shut up, Tommy.” Adam toed off his shoes and lay down across the couch, stretching his legs. He folded his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. Deciding he had nothing to lose, “What do you know about him anyway?”
Tommy barked with laughter.
“What?” Adam scowled. “Just curious.”
“You’re not asking about Maddie’s other teachers.” Tommy leaned forward, long blond bangs falling into his face. “Did you even meet her other teachers?”
“Fuck you, of course I did.”
“Yet, only one caught your attention, huh?”
Adam shrugged and kept silent.
Tommy raked his hair back, took a swig of beer and rolled his eyes, “Kris Allen. No one really knows much about him, except that he’s amazing with the kids. A great music teacher, from what I can tell, got pretty much all the kids interested in music, which hadn’t been the case for a while. He was hired two years ago, background unremarkable, but he’s good. Keeps to himself, despite the fact that most of the teen girls, their moms and gay uncles have tried to pry personal information out of him. I guess that’s what happens when they all seem to have a crush on him.”
“And, you know all this how?”
“Have you met Maddie and Liz?” Tommy settled into the recliner and crossed his legs. He tossed back his hair and played with the bottle’s neck. “I know more about all the teachers, administrators, students and their parents than I care to.”
“I guess at a small school, that happens.”
“I see that your self-imposed celibacy is starting to crawl its way out of the dark cave, huh?”
“That has nothing to do with it.”
Tommy snorted, “Right.”
“What?” Adam asked, turning to look at Tommy.
“After that one last case and you retired from the Bureau, you were the biggest slut this side of the 405. Then, what, two years ago after you got back from your Cayman Island vacation, you stopped going out. You didn’t even flirt, barely looked at another man. We were all wondering if your dick stopped working.”
Adam closed his eyes and groaned.
“Now,” Tommy continued. “After a few hours at a school function, we hear that you think one of the teachers is cute. This is progress, I think.”
“Fuck you, Tommy.”
“I have a wife, darling, and you have a penis, despite how gorgeous you are,” Tommy snickered. “I’ll have Liz do some digging for you to see what we can find out for you about Kris Allen.”
“He’s married.”
“How do you know that?”
“I saw a ring.”
Tommy blew out a raspberry, giving Adam and indication of where Maddie picked it up. “Yeah, that’s why no one’s ever met a wife or partner. Nice try, there, Adam. It could just be a ring.”
“On the ring finger of his left hand? I don’t think so,” Adam stated.
“Well, I’m just going to have to find out what the story is then, aren’t I sweetie,” Liz said, joining the conversation. “Then we’ll know for sure.”
She sat at the edge of the couch and rubbed his shoulder. “Good to see you making your way back to living, Adam.”
**
“I noticed you didn’t change the lyrics the other night to Daydreamers,” Cale remarked. “I don’t think the ladies of the audience cared either way, though,” he laughed.
Kris said nothing, and instead poked at the potato salad on his plate. Cale Mills, the closest thing he had to a friend in Los Angeles. All these years trying to find the next “big one” and running three steps ahead of the law, friendships, never mind relationships, were something he couldn’t afford. He could count on one hand the people he could trust, but as he established a life here, a feeling he never thought he’d encounter fell on him like a two-ton rock. Loneliness.
They sat in the North Quad under the table umbrellas. The middle school and high school kids were using their lunch break to finish their costumes and rehearse their lines for the performance on Friday night.
“Earth to Kris,” Cale said, waving a plastic spoon in front of his face.
Startled, Kris peeked up and righted his glasses, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to zone out like that.”
“Not a problem. Everything okay?
“Yeah,” Kris blinked quickly. “Just a little tired.”
“Sure,” Cale nodded. “This is a huge production. Biggest the school has seen in the last five years. You’re making the previous music directors look bad.”
Kris chuckled, “Hardly. I think they just didn’t push the kids enough. They’re totally up for it, they just needed the right motivation.”
“So, any plans for your spring break next week?”
Kris shrugged and threw a napkin over his plate, “Probably just sleep. This week might kill me.” He looked over at Cale, “You?”
“Errands, man. Might take a day or two and head to Catalina with Gina, but other than that…”
Kris grinned, “That sounds like fun.”
“You should come over to dinner one night,” Cale suggested.
“Um, let’s play it by ear, yeah?” Kris hedged.
The first warning bell rang. Kris stood up and grabbed the remnants of his lunch, silently thanking the higher powers for the timely interruption.
“Oh,” Cale stopped in front of the trash can. “You joining us for happy hour at Father’s Office later?”
“Ah, I wish I could, man,” Kris said honestly. “But I promised the kids in strings I’d go over their part, then I’m meeting with Lucinda to review the program.”
Cale mock-slapped his forehead and laughed, “Sheesh, I’m not thinking. This week is going to be nuts for you. When we’re back in a few weeks, we’ll all go out and have happy hour.”
“Sounds good.”
**
Kris strolled out to the parking lot, digging through his bag for the car keys. He stopped short when he saw a figure leaning against a car parked next to his. Squinting, he tried to place the person, but it didn’t match anyone at the school. He listened as the sounds of kids waiting for their parents, other kids still rehearsing, filled the air, the fading sun providing enough light that Kris knew not to be worried. Plus, Kris knew there were people, security cameras and guards around should anything happen. And, after years of running from bigger and badder, the man by his car would be nothing.
Kris took in the blond hair, the white t-shirt that exposed an arm full of tattoos, the black jeans and unlaced Doc Martens. He was easily Kris’s height, only a slightly smaller frame.
“Can I help you with anything?”
“You’re Kris Allen, right? The music director here?”
Kris nodded.
The man launched himself off the car and offered his hand, “Hi, I’m Tommy, um, Tommy Ratliff…Madeline Ratliff’s father?”
Kris shook the hand and smiled, “Ah. I don’t think we’ve met. I’ve only met your wife, Liz?”
Tommy beamed, “Yeah, sorry. I’ve been on the road a lot, and haven’t really had a chance to meet her teachers.”
“Uh…”
“Oh, yeah. Um,” Tommy started. “I generally don’t do this, but I’m home for a few months, and I didn’t want to interrupt class or anything. I’ve been meaning to meet Maddie’s teachers and familiarize myself with everyone. Maddie’s been going on and on about you the most, so I figured I’d take a chance and try to meet you after hours.”
“Oh,” Kris furrowed his brows. “I’d be more than happy to make an appointment…”
“Nah,” Tommy scoffed. “I don’t do the formal parent-teacher thing. I’m not big on convention.” He laughed and waved his arms over himself, “Obviously.” He smiled at Kris and continued, “I didn’t realize teachers worked so late. It’s after seven, man.”
“I…” Kris cleared his throat trying to buy some time, not knowing what to make of Tommy. “We generally don’t. It’s just, there’s the production of A Midsummer’s Night Dream on Friday night…”
“Oh shit! That’s right. Maddie’s excited about it. That’s part of the reason she’s been chattering non-stop these days. I guess you let the elementary kids watch rehearsals or something?” Tommy paused and Kris nodded. “Hey, man, I’m sorry we weren’t here Saturday night. Double-booked ourselves and my friend Adam…he and Maddie didn’t give you any trouble, did they?”
Kris shuffled his feet.
“Dude, man, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything.”
“What?” Kris shook his head. “Oh, no. Sorry. I’ve been kind of zoning in and out today. My apologies. And no, they weren’t trouble. Maddie’s a sweetheart and excitable, but most kids under the age of 10 are.”
“Hey, this is weird,” Tommy stuck his hands in his jean pockets. “Can we get a drink and continue chatting? I’d love to hear exactly what has my girl excited this week, oh, and hear about the pretty song you sang that night.”
“Uh, I really need to get going, actually. I appreciate the offer, but…”
“Fuck me,” Tommy interrupted. “You’re probably exhausted and want to get home to your family. Wife’s probably waiting for you to start dinner and all that, right?”
Kris let out a small laugh, “No, uh, nothing like that. I’m just…I just have a lot of work to do, and it’s a school night. Maybe some other time?”
Tommy rolled his eyes, “Of course. I’m so dumb sometimes, not thinking. Being away from home for so long messes me up, and I just figure everyone else works on the same schedule. Takes a while to adapt back to ‘normal’,” he said with air quotes.
“What is it you do?”
“Oh, I’m in a band…play guitar, bass and sometimes keyboard. I’m with Midnight Life, you heard of them?”
“Heard of, but honestly, I’m not too familiar with the music,” Kris apologized. “Must be an amazing life though,” Kris sighed.
Tommy lifted a shoulder, “I can’t complain. Being away from friends and family for months at a time sucks though.”
“I can imagine.”
“Anyway, like I said. I’m sorry about cornering you this way, but I’d really love a chance to sit and talk. Maybe we can jam and shoot the shit about music soon?”
Kris laughed, “Sure. I’d like that.”
**
“So?” Liz asked as soon as Tommy walked into the house.
Tommy toed off his shoes and padded to the kitchen. “What smells so good?”
“Lasagna, and tell me!”
“Where’s Maddie and Hank?”
“With my mother,” Liz answered. “If you don’t tell me what happened and what you found out in the next five seconds, you’re going to be in a world of hurt Tommy Joe.”
Tommy walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer, “Nothing really to tell. Totally Adam’s type though.”
“Tommy…”
He took a swig of beer and sat on the stool at center island. “What?” He flinched when she punched his shoulder. “Fine. So where to start? Can’t tell if he’s married or is in a relationship, as he deftly avoided the subject. Definitely has a ring, and he’s guarded, like he’s hiding something. But, I can’t tell if it’s because he’s actually hiding something or he’s just not comfortable around people.”
“That’s not much.”
“Yeah, I know.” Tommy started to pick on the bottle’s label. “He seems like the loner type. There were other teachers chatting with each other, but he ignored them and headed straight to the car. It might also be a bad week since the spring festival is going on this week, the production is on Friday, and spring break is coming up.”
Liz leaned against the counter and bit her lip, “This sucks.”
Tommy finished his beer and pushed it away, “I brought up Adam’s name, didn’t get a reaction, kind of zoned out for a bit though. But, I said we should hang out and get to know each other and talk about music. He did respond a little to that.”
She sighed, “This is going to be harder than I thought.”
“You should let it go. There’s no reason for us to get in either Kris’s or Adam’s business.”
“But Adam finally showed some interest in someone. It’s been, like, two years, and I think he needs someone. He won’t admit it, but I know he’s lonely. The way he looks at us, the kids, Monte and his family, you know?”
“He just said the guy was cute, not that he wanted to date him or get married or anything.”
“But…”
Tommy stood up and kissed her on the temple, “If and when Adam asks for help, we’ll give it to him. Until then, leave it alone.” He perked up, “So, when do we eat?”
**
Kris reached for his alarm and shut it off. Shifting back onto his back with a yawn, he stretched out his arms and scratched his belly. Summer. School was out for summer, and the Alice Cooper song threaded through his brain; three whole months off. Sleeping-in never felt so good. He never realized being a teacher would be so much hard work, but he felt downright lazy compared to what he did in his past. He finally got used to this new lifestyle and schedule. Yes, it was busy in its own way, but it definitely beat staying up all night doing research or being out at all hours of the night scoping out his next target.
He rubbed his jaw and felt days of scruff he was too lazy to shave it off. He was being a ridiculous slob, but he felt like he deserved it after the last week of craziness at school. When his phone rang, he stretched across the bed to grab it. He smiled when he saw Megan’s face on the screen.
“Hey darlin’,” he answered.
“How’s my dear ex-husband this morning?” she laughed.
“Being an indolent, lazy bum. What about you? How are you doing?”
“I’m getting ready for my massage and pedicure. But before I head out, just wanted to see make sure you’re still joining me at the Applegate Gallery reception tonight.”
Kris fell back into the bed and tapped the mattress, “That’s the Correia Glass exhibit, right?”
“Yes.”
“What time do you need me to pick you up? Did you want to grab food first?”
He could sense Megan’s smile through the phone, “Aww, sweetheart. You’re so good to me.”
Kris laughed, “I need to be on friendly terms with my ex, otherwise the alimony could get ugly.”
“True. How about five? We’ll grab something at the hotel, then head over.”
“Sounds good. Black tie or just California casual?”
“Um, not sure. This whole LA art culture confuses me. It’s not as formal as New York or San Francisco, but not as casual as Miami or San Diego. Anyway, how about something in between? A nice suit and shirt, but no tie?”
“Got it. See you then.”
Kris kicked the covers down to the end of the bed and stretched one more time before getting up. Instead of singing like he thought she would, Megan transformed herself into a high-end corporate art buyer. Now, she traveled the world, legally buying photos and paintings and sculptures for boardrooms, hotels and people who had money but no taste. She had come to Los Angeles only a handful of times, inviting Kris to the various gallery openings, receptions and showings. Kris couldn’t believe that Megan wasn’t tempted, but she was always better at controlling herself than he was.
He checked his closet for an appropriate suit, finally pulling out a tan one. After tearing the plastic cover off, he grabbed a starched white shirt and hung them next to each other on the door. He headed to his dresser and picked out a pair of black onyx cufflinks and set them aside. Nodding, he went into the bathroom for a shower.
Towel-drying his hair, Kris ambled into the living room in gym shorts and an over-sized t-shirt. He booted up his laptop and checked the gallery’s website. Tossing his towel next to him, he clicked over to the exhibit photos. He squinted to study the Correia glass; the bowls and vases were gorgeous pieces of art, but it was the unique perfume bottles and paperweights that caught his eye. Kris balled his hands into fists as the tingling bubbled up underneath his skin. Ignoring it, he slammed his laptop shut with disgust.
Jumping off the couch, he headed to the kitchen. He checked the giant clock hanging from the wall; still had six hours to kill before he needed to get dressed and head out.
**
Adam took another sip from his wine glass and pretended to listen to the conversation between two people he was trapped between. He nodded to Mike, who was on the other end of the room looking uncomfortable in his suit and tie.
Both Mike and Adam left the Bureau after their respective failures in Hawaii, neither man able to deal with moving on to other cases and too drained and angry to continue on the one they couldn’t close. They went their separate ways months after each other, Mike moved to Dallas while Adam stayed in LA. Adam hadn’t heard from anyone on his team until Mike contacted him a year later. Together, they tracked down a couple other former members and put together a security consultant firm a few months later.
Tonight they were guests of the Applegate Gallery, a potential client. Mike flew in from Dallas for the reception. Both of them thought it would be a good idea to get a complete assessment of what they were in for before putting together their proposal.
Adam excused himself and wandered over to Mike, who in turn, took the cue and wandered away from his group.
“This is so not my scene, Lambert. I don’t know how you do it,” Mike said, wiping the sweat from his brows. “These people are ridiculous. It seems like they’re trying to outshine the art.”
Adam smirked, “You can’t let the artwork outshine you, Sarver. I think that’s the motto around here. You have to be as pretty as or prettier than what’s hung on the walls.”
Mike laughed, “Not a problem for you, pretty boy.” Mike perused the gallery with a single swoop of his head. “So, do you have this? I need to go meet with Andrew about the CCS meeting tomorrow afternoon.”
“Yeah, I got this. I’ll just stick around for a little longer, but I think I have what I need. Let’s meet up for lunch and go through our notes?”
“Yup,” Mike replied, slapping him on the shoulder. “And then the CCS meeting at three.”
Adam nodded, “Done. Have a good night, Mike. And, say hi to Andrew for me, haven’t seen him in a while.”
“Will do,” he loosened his tie with relish. “Good luck here.”
Adam watched as Mike headed to the door, and did a double-take when the teacher from Maddie’s school walked into the gallery with a stunning blond woman on his arm. The world around him slowed down as he observed the couple stroll in through the doors with giant, gleaming smiles on their faces. Kris was dressed in a tan suit and white shirt, hair sticking up stylishly offsetting his glasses, while she was in a navy, skin-tight strapless dress that showed off all her curves. In Adam’s vision, wind was blowing through their hair and their heads were tossed back in laughter. They were one of those gorgeous couples in commercials enjoying an evening out.
Yeah, Mr. Kris wasn’t just cute, he was hot. And, apparently, so was his wife. Of course. Fuck.
Adam tossed back his drink and handed the glass off to a passing waiter. He took a deep breath, counted to three and plastered a smile on his face as he noticed Niko, the gallery owner coming up to him.
“Adam, please, if you don’t mind, come with me,” Niko Ress said. “Megan, one of my favorite buyers just arrived, and I would love for you to meet her.”
“Of course,” Adam replied coolly. He could do this, no need to be nervous. He would see the cute, married teacher and meet his beautiful wife. They would have a conversation, laugh at the right moments like he meant it and then go home and wallow. Then, he would start his day all over again.
“Megan, darling,” Niko preened and air kissed her cheeks. “Looking lovely as always, and thank you for coming.”
Megan leaned in for a small hug, “Good to see you, too, Niko.” She eyed Adam from head to toe, taking in every detail. “And, who’s this?” she asked cheerfully.
“Please meet Adam Lambert,” Niko stated with excitement. “He and his team will be our security consultants, so I wanted him to be here to take in the gallery during an event and meet our most important clients.” Niko twisted his body excitedly to Adam, “Adam, this is Megan Joy, one of my favorite clients.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Lambert,” Megan smiled.
“A pleasure,” Adam gritted out through smiling teeth. “And, please, call me Adam.” He looked at Niko then at Kris.
“I’m Megan. Oh,” Megan exclaimed. “My manners. Niko, Adam, this is Kris. Kris Allen.”
“I, uh, I believe we met, actually,” Adam stammered. He watched as Kris’s eyes widened in recognition.
“Maddie’s godfather,” Kris said with a smile. He reached out to shake Adam’s hand. “Good seeing you again. It’s been a few months, hasn’t it?”
Adam nodded and ignored the tickle underneath the skin of his palm when their hands met. “Yeah, it has.”
Kris turned to Megan, “We met at the Spring Festival fundraiser at school.”
Adam’s heart lurched at the happy smile Kris had on his face. He looked for a waiter for another drink.
**
And, next | part II...