They Told Me I Was Everything (The First Quarto Book 1), page 19
His hand was still at the small of Auggie’s back, and he tugged again; this time, Auggie let him.
“I want to make it up to you,” Orlando said.
“Orlando—”
“I know you don’t want anything public. That’s fine; I mean, I’m bi, and I’ve told guys on the team, but keeping things private is honestly easier for me too. I really like you. I think you like me. I know how to keep my mouth shut.” He grinned, pressing in where their bodies joined, and Auggie felt himself getting hard. “And I think we could have a lot of fun.”
He bent in for a kiss.
“Oh no,” Auggie said, sliding away. “No fucking way.”
“Augs, Jesus, man.”
“Now I’ve got to walk across the quad with a boner. How’s that for discreet?”
Orlando just smirked and tugged at himself.
“This is worse than gay porn,” Auggie said. “In gay porn they just fuck and don’t have to talk to each other or ask their roommate to pick up his fucking Xbox controllers.”
“Let me show you how nice I can treat you,” Orlando said. “Let me make it up to you.”
“Bye, Orlando.”
“Dinner, tonight. Please.”
Auggie rolled his eyes.
“That’s a yes! That’s a yes, Augs.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“And think about where you want to go.”
Halfway down the stairs, Auggie had to readjust himself; he’d never been with somebody who could toss him around the way Orlando just had, and it was having an effect.
Outside, the January weather—cold freezing the corners of his eyes, his breath exploding in white clouds—hadn’t stopped the first day of classes from getting into full swing. Students filled the quad, all of them layered in heavy winter clothing, the snow crunching under their boots. Auggie realized immediately that he’d forgotten his coat, and the cold cut through his cardigan. Going back upstairs, though, meant another round with Orlando, and the wrestler was a little too persuasive for Auggie to be comfortable with that right now. Auggie had his first class in Tether-Marfitt again, although this semester, he had Civ 2: 1500-Present. The building wasn’t far, and he could make it there without freezing to death. As he headed off across the quad, he caught a whiff of maple syrup from the dining hall, and then a stale, sour sweat smell. Somebody had been having too much fun last night and hadn’t woken up in time to shower.
With so many people on the quad, Auggie didn’t notice the sound of approaching steps until it was too late. A hand closed around his upper arm, and Auggie glanced over to see the big guy with the shaved head; a heavy coat hid his Celtic cross tattoo, and no sign remained of the broken nose Theo had given him. That had been months ago, Auggie realized distantly. Movement to the right drew his attention, and he saw the woman with the swastika tattoo on her cheek.
“Hello, August,” the big man—Jerome, Auggie remembered now—said. “Long time no see.”
“If you’re thinking about making trouble,” the woman said, “think really carefully. You can shout, sure. You can call for help. You can make a whole big deal out of it. But here’s the question you have to ask yourself: how long will it take campus security to get here? Do you think it’ll take longer than it’ll take Jerome to stomp on your head until your skull cracks?”
Auggie missed a step, and only Jerome’s hand kept him upright.
“We want it, August,” the woman said. “We want that fucking flash drive. And wherever you’ve got it, you better dig it up and hand it over. Is that clear?”
“You were in my room,” Auggie said.
Jerome jerked him to a halt at the center of the quad. Eight different paths converged here, and people milled around them, many of them obviously irritated at having to change course because Auggie and his new friends were standing in the way. Auggie guessed there were easily a few hundred people on the quad right then. He could have reached out in any direction and grabbed a backpack, a coat, a sleeve.
“What are you talking about? What flash drive?”
The hand on Auggie’s arm tightened until he grunted. “Don’t fuck around, August.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Robert had a flash drive. He was supposed to deliver it. Then somebody, maybe you, killed that stupid son of a bitch. You were the last person to see him alive. That means I think you have the flash drive.”
“I don’t. I don’t have anything. I swear to God.”
“Then you’d better find it,” the woman said. “I’m not going to ask you again. You have two weeks.”
“Did you know that the average chimpanzee is worth approximately fifty-seven thousand dollars, if you harvest and use all of its parts correctly?” the girl’s voice was effervescent; Auggie had to blink to make sense of the girl his age, her blond hair spilling out from under a knit cap, proffering a clipboard and a pen. “And did you know that right now, millions of chimpanzees are going to waste, dying in Africa, their fur and organs sadly underutilized by local—”
“Get the fuck out of here,” Jerome roared.
The girl squeaked, dropped her pen, and ran.
Jerome glanced at the woman with the swastika, his head dropping. “Sorry, Mae.”
She didn’t look at him. Her gaze was on Auggie. “Now, the last time we ran into each other, your friend really did a number on us.” Her hand traced an almost-invisible scar that bisected her eyebrow. “I think you might need a little encouragement, and we do owe you some payback. So I want you to hold out a hand, and Jerome’s going to break your fingers.”
“What? No, I don’t need encouragement. I’ll find the flash drive, I’ll—”
“If you don’t pick, I’ll let Jerome decide.”
“They’re going to hear. I’m going to scream, and everybody’s going to hear. It’s the middle of the quad.” Jerome grabbed his hand, and Auggie twisted, trying to pull free. “You can’t do this.”
“But we are doing it,” Mae said. “And by the time campus security gets here, we’ll be gone. Go ahead, Jerome.”
Jerome grabbed Auggie’s pinkie.
“No,” Auggie shouted. People were stopping to stare now, but nobody moved to intervene. Auggie twisted again, and Jerome’s grip tightened as he forced the finger back. Auggie went up onto his toes.
“Auggie?” Orlando pushed through the crowd. “Hey, what the hell?”
Jerome was already releasing Auggie, and as Auggie settled back onto his heels, Jerome shoved him. After a few slippery steps, Auggie crashed into Orlando, who wrapped an arm around him to keep him from falling. More people had stopped to watch, but Mae and Jerome just turned and hurried toward the edge of campus; Auggie lost sight of them in the crowd after a few moments.
“What the fuck was that?” Orlando said.
Auggie realized he was still pressed against Orlando, still had Orlando’s arm around his waist. He managed to stand up straight, massaging his pinkie as he stepped clear of his roommate, and then he shuddered.
“Well, there’s nothing to fucking see here,” Orlando said. “Move the fuck on.”
As the crowd dispersed, Auggie realized Orlando was wearing Sorels and gym shorts and a coat over his wrestling tee. He’d obviously rushed out of the dorm without really dressing, and now, meeting Auggie’s gaze, he blushed and held up Auggie’s coat.
“Sorry, I thought, you know, you might want this.”
Auggie’s teeth were chattering so badly that when he tried to say thank you, it wouldn’t come out. A small part of him was wondering how Orlando had known where he would be, but he couldn’t get that question to come out either.
“Here,” Orlando said, helping him into the coat.
Auggie tried the zipper a few times, but he couldn’t get the zipper to catch.
“Let me,” Orlando said, and he got it in one and zipped the coat. Then he met Auggie’s eyes. “What the fuck was that?”
“Nothing,” Auggie managed.
“That was definitely something. Something really serious. They were trying to hurt you.”
“No,” Auggie said. “It was just a misunderstanding.”
“Come on, don’t bullshit me. I’m trying to help you.”
“I don’t need help,” Auggie said, too loudly. He took a step away from Orlando, shook his head, and said, “I don’t. I’m fine. Thank you for the coat, but I’m fine.”
And then he jogged west across the quad; he needed to talk to Theo.
4
Theo got lucky; the bus from Downing was on time, and he made it to Liversedge Hall with an hour to spare before his first class. He was teaching another section of Civ 1, and although he’d made some modifications to the course, the prep was much less substantial this semester. He rode the elevator up, sharing the car with Peg. It was his first interaction with anyone from the department since the holiday party at the end of December; judging by the way Peg’s carnation-pink nails played with the buttons on her coat and the way she kept her gaze on the floor, Theo guessed nobody had forgotten his behavior yet.
“I had a great Christmas, Peg,” Theo said into the stuffy silence and the smell of wet wool that filled the elevator car. “Thanks for asking. How about you?”
“Oh, yes,” she said, addressing her comments to the third button on her coat. “We tried tamales. Too ethnic for me, but the boys gobbled them up.”
“And I guess everybody now officially considers me the department drunk, as well as being the department pity project?”
“Well, you know, Theo, I had a great-uncle once who had a little too much to drink now and then. And, you know, like you, he’d suffered just so terribly.”
Theo waited and realized that was the end of the statement. He drew a deep breath and pictured a meteor smashing into the elevator.
When the elevator dinged at the third floor, Peg said, “Once, the police had to take him away because he tried to make love to a jug of maple syrup.” Apparently caught up in the power of storytelling, Peg seized Theo’s hand. “But you will be happy to know he got the help he needed. And you can too, Theo.”
“Yes,” Theo said. “Thank you.”
“Don’t be like Great-Uncle Stephen, Theo.”
“No, I don’t think there’s a risk of—”
“You have people who love you. People, Theo. You don’t need things to comfort you.”
Peg paused here to dab at her eyes, smile up at him tearfully, and give his hand a final squeeze before getting off the elevator. When the doors dinged shut, Theo was still staring after her, and he had to jab the open button to step out onto the third floor.
As he made his way down the hall, though, he groaned.
Auggie was sitting outside his office.
Theo tried to brace himself, but he didn’t know what was coming. A fight? Blackmail? Tears? The last time he had seen Auggie, he had just jerked him off through his underwear, passed out, and called him the name of his dead husband. What was the Emily Post etiquette for the follow-up conversation?
Before Theo could reach Auggie, though, a door opened, and Dr. Kanaan poked her head out into the hall. She wore a loose hijab and an elegant black suit; her thick eyebrows drew together when she spotted Theo.
“We need to talk.”
“Morning, Dr. Kanaan,” Theo said. “How was your break?”
“Not great, Theo. My parents were in town. My husband was so anxious he went through a Costco pack of Tums.” She shook her head. “You. My office. Right now. We’re going to discuss how to keep you in this program after the holiday party.”
At the end of the hallway, Auggie had gotten to his feet; when Theo looked at him, he gave a half wave and buried his hands in his pockets.
“I’m sorry, I’ve got a very upset student I need to talk to,” Theo said. “Can we have this conversation in a little bit?”
“Sure,” Dr. Kanaan said. “Would you like to have it before you get called into the chair’s office, or after?”
“I promise I’ll hurry. He’s obviously upset, and I told him I’d talk to him first thing.”
“Then hurry, Theo. I’m just trying to help because I want you in the program.”
Dr. Kanaan shut her door, and Theo hurried down the hall. He had lied about arranging to talk to Auggie—that was a surprise—but he hadn’t been lying completely; Auggie obviously was upset. His eyes and nose were red, and his shoulders were hunched, and even through the thick coat, it was clear he was clenching his hands in fists.
“Auggie,” Theo said, his tone as neutral as he could manage. He unlocked the door and stepped inside; cardamom and ginger perfumed the air, and he saw a pot of tea—cold, when he checked—that Grace had left.
Auggie followed him inside and shut the door.
“How was your break?” Theo asked. “Sit down. I guess we need to talk.”
“I’m not . . . I don’t want to talk about that.”
“Well, we have to talk about it eventually.”
“No. We don’t. I’m just here because—because I want to know if you picked up something.”
“Like, an STI? No. And, anyway, we didn’t do anything that would transfer an STI. I could go with you to a clinic, though, if you—”
“Oh my God,” Auggie moaned, and he pulled his fists out of his pockets and pressed them to his eyes. “Just stop, please. I mean when we were at Robert’s apartment. Did you pick up anything, take anything while we were inside?”
Theo was in the middle of powering on his computer, and he froze. Then, bracing himself against the plastic tower, he said, “He came to talk to you too.”
“They both did,” Auggie said. “And I’m fine. It’s fine. I can handle it. I’m not asking for your help. I just need to know if you took something.”
“What do you mean, they both did? His partner came too?”
“Yes, of course. I always see them together. I thought maybe that bitch would have lost her eye after what you did to her, but no, she’s just got a little scar.”
It took Theo a moment to understand. Then he said, “I think we should sit down. This is going to be a longer conversation.”
“Will you just answer my fucking question?”
The shout rang through the small office.
“I know you’re angry at me,” Theo said. “I know you probably hate me—”
“Jesus Christ, Theo. Give me a little fucking credit. It was one night, we were both drunk, and we fooled around. It’s a little fucking embarrassing that I was just some fucking stand-in for your dead husband, but it’s not like you were the love of my life. Can we talk about something important, please?”
Theo sat down; his cheeks stung like he’d been slapped.
“Well?” Auggie said.
“I didn’t take anything.”
“Fine. Ok. That’s all I needed.”
“Auggie, please sit down.”
“I’ve got shit to do.”
“I want to talk to you.”
“Sure, great. Text me sometime.”
Theo was out of the chair before he realized it, slapping a hand against the door, holding it closed. He took huge breaths, trying to calm himself.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Auggie said, elbowing him, trying to clear him from the door. “I’ll scream. Do you want your fucking professor buddies to come down here and find a student screaming in your office?”
“Sit down,” Theo said quietly. “Right now.”
Whatever Auggie saw in his face, it made him blink, and he slunk around Theo and dropped into a chair. For another moment, Theo stayed at the door, drawing deep breaths, fresh pain needling his knee. He limped back to his seat and sat carefully.
Auggie was staring at the floor, but he asked, “Are you ok?”
“I shouldn’t have gotten up that fast.”
“Oh,” Auggie said. Then, “I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. Someone came to my house last night. He threatened . . . me. It was the guy you called Glasses.”
“He went to your house?”
Massaging his knee, Theo nodded. “Has he talked to you?”
“No. The other detectives came, Somerset and the other one.”
“Why did they want to talk to you?”
“Someone broke into my dorm room and searched it. They tore it apart. I think it was those white supremacist assholes.” Auggie explained the rest of it, and when he’d finished telling him everything through Orlando saving him on the quad that morning, he said, “They told me I have two weeks to find that flash drive.”
Theo was still rubbing his knee, but he leaned back now, shaking his head. “What the fuck?”
Auggie giggled; he slapped a hand over his mouth, and his eyes crinkled.
“This is funny?” Theo said.
“No, it’s just—that’s basically the only thing I’ve been able to think. I’ve got cops in my dorm room accusing me of murdering Robert. I’ve got white supremacist assholes trying to break my fingers on the quad. I’ve got Orlando trying to turn me into his fuck buddy. And now you’re telling me that there’s a dirty cop who’s threatening you.”
Hand slowing, Theo tried to keep his voice casual as he said, “What about Orlando?”
One of Auggie’s eyebrows shot up.
“Never mind,” Theo said, his face heating. “Just be careful.”
Auggie’s other eyebrow shot up.
“I’m just trying to say, you can develop feelings for someone—”
“Theo?”
“Yes, please, God, say something.”
“I don’t need a dad, so shut the fuck up.”
Theo considered pressing the point, realized how far up shit creek he’d gone, and nodded.
“So we’re starting from scratch,” Theo said. “I guess we go back to his apartment and search it, although the police probably already took anything that was there. Then we go back to trying to figure out who he was and where he might have hidden the flash drive.”
“A dirty cop wants it,” Auggie said, “and so do white supremacists. How does that work?”
