The City of Rossford

“I didn’t want to be this way,” Logan said. “I wanted to be so much better for you.”

Sheridan didn’t respond except to continue to wash Logan’s body under the hot showerhead. This was the hottest water Sheridan had ever been under. Surprising given the quality of the building. Sheridan continued to lather soap onto the sponge and wash Logan’s trembling body. He was trembling too. Often they stopped under the water and just held each other. It was a long time before they came out and toweled each other, saying nothing. And then Logan took him by the hand and they went to bed. They stretched out side by side hearing a few cars pass by, hearing, again, a train on the tracks. The sky coming through the curtains was blue, and the steam in the radiators made a dinging noise.

“What time is it?” Sheridan asked.

“I don’t think it’s even ten o’ clock,” Logan told him. But he didn’t turn to look. He just pulled Sheridan to him.

“I should never have left you. Why did you take that guy?”

“Casey called me. Casey sent him here.”

Sheridan yawned. “Casey needs to be hit in the face.”

Logan chuckled a little. They drifted into a half sleep.

The half sleep turned into kissing and hugging, fondling.

“You’ve never been inside of me,” Logan said.

“But you just…”

“You won’t hurt me if you do, Sheridan. I… can’t have him be the last person in me. Not when you’re here.” His hand traveled down Sheridan’s body.

“I want you to be in me, and I want you to come when you’re in me. Is that alright?”

Sheridan was already trembling. His penis was already firm. They linked limbs and hands and kissed. They made love and sucked each other. Somehow the escape from death, the saving in the middle of the rape, made everything more intense. Sheridan was afraid that this wasn’t smart. But then it made sense that the way Logan would recover from being attacked, for actually being forced into sex, would be to have sex. There was something so intense about him that Sheridan was afraid until he found the intensity in himself. He had never been in Logan before. While Sheridan lay on his back, Logan sat down on him, drawing him inside, and they both made a startled noise. His buttocks were so firm and perfectly round, so very tight, and hot, the set of his face so beautiful, his blue eyes black in the half light of this room. They opened and closed, like his mouth did.

Logan whispered, “It’s so good. You’re so good. Don’t be gentle.”

“I want to be.”

“I want you to let go. I want you deep.”

They turned over. He wanted Sheridan’s body pressed to him as close as possible, their fingers linked, Sheridan’s mouth on his throat. He wanted to be drilled. He wanted his savior and his protector and his lover to lose control. And he did, and then they were both shouting and gasping and crying, and for once the orgasm took them at the same time, Sheridan pressed deep inside of him, shooting in him, Logan clamping tight on his penis, Sheridan’s mouth biting his throat, moans escaping their mouths as they shook and the world shook with them.

They lay like that, gasping, both still hard, shaking a little from the wonder, Logan flexing his insides, feeling Sheridan still there, though the boy lay on his back, beside him, eyes opening and closing.

“No wonder people are so afraid of love and sex,” Logan said. “You don’t know if you’re coming or going.”

Sheridan’s stomach rose and fell, still exhausted. From the light brown cloud of hair, his penis, damp and red, was still stiff. Logan moved so that their bodies were pressed together and they were kissing and hugging and holding, and making love all over again. When it was over Sheridan said, “I’ve never done it twice in a row. You’re right. I don’t know if I’m coming or going. I feel…”

He stopped.

“What?”

“Shut up,” Sheridan said, lightly.

It had been this way with Chay. He had gone to a place where he didn’t know how he’d felt. It was past regret or fear or happiness. Or even joy. He was on the edge of something.

And then something much more practical struck him.

“We need to do something with that man in the closet.”

They dressed fairly quickly, but for the first time they couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. Once Sheridan stopped dressing to get down on his knees and give Logan head. Then Logan humped him lightly from behind before they headed out of the door. They couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. It had never been like this before.

But in the hall all romance ended, and they were quickly jolted into reality by the trail of red. Sheridan made a noise and jogged up to the door where a dark puddle was forming.

“Give me the key,” he told Logan, and Logan handed it to him.

Sheridan jiggled it about and the door came open with a great weight on the other side of it. The man’s body fell out, white and grey, and Sheridan gasped.

“What the?” Logan began.

Grimacing, Logan bent down and examined the beaten man. Sheridan had wounded him badly and Logan looked at the man’s arms.

“You cut him, Sheridan?”

“A little. I was angry.”

Logan was about to say, “You killed him!” which he had, but which Sheridan probably couldn’t take hearing.

Instead he said:

“We need to get some help.”

AS THEY WERE GETTING dressed to head to their individual churches, Bryant said, “There’s a lot going on right now.”

“Yeah,” Chad agreed, fixing his tie in the mirror. “That’s why I was late last night.”

“I see. I got your message. So,” Bryant came up behind him. “Why were you late last night?”

“Huh?” Chad turned around and looked at him.

“Why were you late?” Bryant said again, trying and pretty much succeeding in an even tone.

“I was out.”

“Listen,” Bryant said. “I know you’re carrying on with someone else. I just don’t know who.”

He went toward the living room, leaving Chad standing before the mirror. Chad didn’t move. He didn’t speak. Actually, he was afraid. He didn’t know what was going to happen next.

“Chad, come out here,” Bryant said calmly, as if he’d found something interesting.

Straightening his glasses, Chad cleared his throat, and then came down the hallway into their living room.

“I need to hear it from you,” Bryant said. “I need for you to tell me. Alright?”

Chad nodded.

“Are you sleeping with someone else?”

Chad didn’t say anything, and then when Bryant opened his mouth again, Chad began by saying: “It’s complicated.”

“No, it isn’t,” Bryant differed. “There’s nothing complicated about it. Believe me. I know. Are you sleeping with someone else?”

Chad turned his head and said, behind his hand, as if to dull the effect:

“Maybe. Sort of… Yes.”

It was out. Just like that. He did not want to look at Bryant, but he had to do that much, right? So he turned to look at him, but Bryant had already turned away. He’d gone up the few steps from the sunken living room and was at the coat tree.

“Bryant!”

“What?” Bryant said, his voice semi-dull.

“Where are you going?”

Bryant opened his mouth and then closed it. He’d thought speech would be a little easier.

“I’m going to Saint Barbara’s. To play organ. Like I do every Sunday.”

And then he pulled on his coat, opened the door and left.

“What’s going on over here?” Layla said, walking into the house with Will. “I mean, besides the obvious.”

“Brendan and Lee are doing detective work,” Fenn said, “and Bryant’s been around here since after church, flatly upset.”

“About Dylan?” Will said, opening up the refrigerator.

“Well, I’m sure he is,” Fenn allowed. “But about Chad mostly.”

Layla and Will looked at each other.

“Yesterday,” Fenn said, “Bryant told me he was pretty sure that Chad was cheating on him.”

“And?” Will said, looking briefly to Layla.

“And this morning he asked, and so now he knows.”

“What’s he going to do?” Layla said, sitting down beside her uncle.

“I think he’s just stunned,” Fenn said.

“Well, well,” Layla murmured.

“Well, well, what?”

“Isn’t it sort of ironic, Fenn? That he’d come to you? And isn’t it sort of fitting? I mean, doesn’t it fit that this should happen to him?”

“That’s terrible,” Fenn said, shaking his head.

“But seriously. If this had happened… ten years ago, would you say that?”

“No,” Fenn admitted. “I’d probably laugh my head off. But that was ten years ago, and I know how he feels.”

“You don’t,” Will said.

Fenn looked at Will who was taking another chair.

“Bryant probably feels like he deserves it. After what he did to you.”

Fenn smiled lightly and said, “Will, everyone feels like they deserve it. When a thing like that has happened to you, you always wonder what you did to bring it on.

“No,” Fenn said, shaking his head. “There isn’t a part of me that’s happy to see this happen to Bryant.”

Fenn was quiet, and then he said, “Chad is your friend. You didn’t know about this?”

He looked at the two of them, and when they simultaneously looked away, his eyes widened.

“Layla!”

Will turned away, but Fenn caught him too.

“We couldn’t tell you,” Layla said. “It wasn’t our secret. You know that, Fenn. Plus, if we’d told you, you would have had to tell Bryant.”

“Well, who the hell is it?” Fenn wondered.

“That’s not even worth telling,” Will said. “And telling who it is only makes it worse.”

“Who the hell could it be, then? Someone close to him?” Fenn said. “Bryant doesn’t have any close friends except me and Todd and it better not be Todd. There’s his niece, and that’s not possible. His uncle, and that’s ridiculous. And his brother.”

Layla’s eyes bulged before she could put on a poker face.

“You bitch,” Fenn murmured. “Are you serious?”

When Layla didn’t answer, Fenn sat back.

“Oh, my God, Chad’s having an affair with Bryant’s brother!” And then he cried, “Goddamn, what now?”

Because that was when the door opened, and white faced and panicked Sheridan Klasko burst into the house followed by Logan Banford.

The Klasko brothers blinked at each other and Layla went from Sheridan to Logan. But then, very quickly, Sheridan recovered and said, “Fenn, when you get finished, I need your help with something.”

Sheridan looked at Fenn, and then Fenn said to Layla and Will: “Get out.”

“What?” Will began.

“Get out. Go. He has something to tell me. Go away now, both of you.”

Layla shrugged as if to say there was no arguing him, now, and then she and Will moved around Sheridan and Logan while Layla said to Logan, a question on her face, “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah,” said Logan.

Will closed the door behind him, and Sheridan stood before Fenn, taking deep breaths.

“Well?” Fenn said.

“We need your help. This is Logan by the way.”

“Hello, Logan,” Fenn said.

Logan nodded.

“What’s the problem?”

The back door opened, and they heard Brendan shouting, “Fenn! Fenn!”

“For fuck’s sake,” Fenn muttered, straddling a kitchen chair.

Brendan entered the kitchen, followed by Lee.

“We found her,” Lee said. “We found her.”

“Eileen Wehlan at 45576 Bachelor Court Road on—” Brendan stopped and looked at Sheridan and Logan.

“They were just about to tell me why they were here,” Fenn said.

But Sheridan didn’t say anything.

“Let me rephrase that,” Fenn said, his voice growing harder. “They areabout to tell me what they are doing here. Right now.”

“We need to take care of something,” Sheridan said. “Somebody.”

Here, Logan snickered hysterically, and then covered his mouth, turning red while they all looked at him.

“What do you mean take care of somebody?” Lee said.

“Who are you?” Brendan said, his eyes narrowing while he looked at Logan.

“He’s Logan,” Fenn said. “Now what are you all talking about?”

“There’s a dead body,” Logan blurted out. “We need to get rid of it.”

“Not again,” Lee muttered.

They looked at Lee.

“Nevermind,” Lee said. “Just… Can’t you all call the police?”

“No,” Logan said. “He was killed.”

Brendan, Lee and Fenn each raised an eyebrow and looked at Logan, waiting for him to explain.

But it was Sheridan who said: “I killed him.”

Disjointedly, Sheridan told the story, but he had to keep backtracking and explaining things. Like why he was with Logan, like how he worked for Casey, like how Logan was his lover and he knew he wasn’t straight and, gee maybe he should have told someone before and—

Fenn snapped his fingers and held one up.

“Stick,” he told Sheridan, “to the point.”

And so he told the whole story. It was vital to get it right and leave nothing out and damn all the embarrassment, and when he was finished, he leaned against the counter.

Logan didn’t say anything right away, and then he murmured, “He saved my life.”

No one said anything, and then Sheridan said, “What do we do? How do we remove a dead body without a trace?”

“Industrial plastic bags, ammonia, a pair of scissors and some old suitcases,” Lee said, clinically.

Except for Fenn, they all looked at him in surprise.

“Lee is definitely the man you want for this job,” his cousin said, crossing his arms over his chest and stretching out a leg.

“So, do we do this now?” Brendan said.

“We?” Lee looked at him.

“Unless you were going to do it yourself?”

“We need a plan,” Lee said. “Do we undress him and leave him somewhere? Do we put him in the lake? That’s always bad. Do we bury him? Do we chop him up?”

“Chop him up?”

“Yes. Easier to get rid of him. You need a saw, though. I wish Danny’s father was here.”

“I can’t believe we’re talking about this,” Sheridan cried, collapsing at the table. He put his head in his hands. “I… did it.”

Logan got down on his knees and pulled Sheridan’s face to him.

“You didn’t mean to,” he told him. “You got carried away. Cause you cared about me. If you had it to do all over again-”

Sheridan took Logan’s hands from his face, and though his skin was red, his eyes were dry.

“If I had it to do all over again,” he said, calmly, “we’d still be right here because he’d still be dead.”