Arcanum (Tales from the Tarot)

33. Chris

Chapter thirty-three

Chris

A wooden spoon came out of nowhere and cracked the back of my hand as I reached for the pan of cinnamon rolls.

“Don’t even think about it,” Greyson warned, whipping the spoon in my face like a weapon before he resumed stirring a bright yellow mixture in a bowl.

“Come on! They’re not going to know one measly cinnamon roll is missing!”

“I promised Ed he’d have his pick of cinnamon rolls and cornbread for the contest. I draw the line at spaghetti, though.”

“I can’t believe you call Sheriff Endicott ‘Ed,’” I murmured, sidling up behind Greyson and kissing his neck. “No one calls him Ed except his wife.”

“Once you get past the gruffness, he’s really quite sweet. He brings coffee with him now and we chat while Beverly gets her hair done.”

“You know he’s there for the free baked goods, right?”

He shrugged and finished stirring, dumping the cornbread mixture into miniature loaf pans.

“Why don’t you open a cafe in the bookstore? Or at least charge for your stuff. You’d make a killing.”

“I bake for fun, not for profit.”

“I’m just saying…” I swiped a finger in the leftover glaze he’d drizzled on the cinnamon rolls and popped it into my mouth.

“Do you mind getting the door?” “What door?”

A second later, a heavy knock pounded on the front door. Nitro jumped to his feet underneath the table and took off running, barking like we were under attack.

I followed after him, glancing through the peephole before opening the door for Luke.

“You’re a lifesaver!” Luke said, breezing through the door. “I can’t believe my crockpot blew up.”

“It’s about time. It’s older than you are.” I grabbed my crock pot off of the coffee table and held it out to him.

“That’s beside the point. It’s Chili Cook-Off Day! Those fucking hose pullers are going down this year.”

I laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “As long as Jace is making said chili, you don’t stand a chance. They literally nicknamed him ‘Chili’ his first year on the fire department, remember?”

“All because of his dad’s ‘secret recipe,’” Luke grumbled, adding air quotes with one hand for good measure. “As soon as I figure it out, he’s done for. Speaking of—” He sniffed the air quickly. “Are you baking something?”

“ I’m not,” I replied, glancing toward the kitchen right as the oven timer went off and was subsequently silenced.

“Well then who…?” Luke’s words trailed off as his jaw slackened. I didn’t turn around even as I heard Greyson’s soft steps approaching.

This was it. This was the moment my best friend found out I was dating a guy. I’d tried to tell him a couple of times over the past few weeks, but the moment never felt right. Then when Luke texted, asking to borrow the crock pot, Greyson said he’d leave. And that was what pushed me to get over my hangup. I wanted my best friend to know about my boyfriend. And I didn’t want my boyfriend to feel like he was a dirty secret, running and hiding every time someone came to the door.

I ran my palms over my thighs as the two stared at each other. I tried not to be nervous for Greyson’s sake, but I was pretty sure I was failing miserably.

“The bookstore guy,” Luke said, blinking.

Greyson gave him a small smile and held a plate out to him. Beneath the saran wrap sat a miniature cornbread and a perfect cinnamon roll. “Nice to see you again, Luke.”

I scoffed, gaping at him. “How come he gets a cinnamon roll?”

“Because he’s competing,” Greyson shot back with a dazzling smile.

“That’s not even fair. Who helped you scrape vanilla beans all morning?”

“Wait,” Luke interjected, glancing between us. “Why is the bookstore guy scraping vanilla beans in your kitchen?”

“Because he’s my boyfriend,” I said quietly. What I lacked in volume, I made up for with a physical gesture. I draped my arm around Greyson’s shoulders and pulled him against me. He looped an arm around my waist and gave me a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

Naturally, we’d talked about this moment. He told me the whole “coming out” thing got easier each time you did it. Because of course it wasn’t just one time, like I initially thought. It was every time you introduced your significant other to someone and every time you met a new person and wanted to share that part of yourself. Every time you had to politely correct someone when they referenced your wife or girlfriend. It seemed daunting and it was part of the reason why I hadn’t wanted to go down this road. Not to mention, I feared rejection from my best friend, no matter how well I thought I knew him.

“No fucking way,” Luke said with a laugh, his dark eyes darting between us, clearly waiting for us to join in. “Wait. Are you for real?”

Greyson and I nodded.

“Well, congrats, man.” Luke shook my hand with another laugh and shook Greyson’s as well. “I’d love to stay and chat about you being a homo, but I’ve gotta get my chili cooking again before the competition.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not—”

Greyson squeezed me again and gave a slight shake of his head. “We’ll see you this afternoon.”

Luke nodded in farewell and headed to the door. He paused on the threshold and looked back, shaking his head. “Chris Brandt likes dick. Who knew?”

I didn’t have time to tell him to fuck off because he laughed again and closed the door.

“He’s just kidding,” Greyson said, wrapping both arms around my waist. “He was happy for you.”

“Really?” I raised my brows at him.

“Yes. But also very curious. So, I’d expect a lot of invasive questions if I were you.”

“Wonderful,” I sighed.

“Who knows? Maybe you’ll inspire him to pursue other possibilities since Stacey won’t give him the time of day.” He kissed my cheek and drifted back to the kitchen.

I stared after him. “Wait! Does he have a thing for guys? Grey!”

Greyson’s laugh was the only answer I got.

“Wow,” Greyson said as we approached the Chili Cook-Off. “You guys are serious about this.”

Serious was an understatement.

Tents and tables covered the spacious lawn in front of town hall while various other food trucks and vendors ringed the block. Squads and fire engines were parked on opposing sides of the street, their lights flashing, illuminating the tents of their respective departments and drawing attention to the blue- and red-clad participants.

Luke was front and center at the cops’ table, trying to secure us a win. Across the lawn, Jace aka Chili, the reigning champion, was huddled with a group of firemen, sampling the chili and adding sprinkles of spices from unlabeled jars.

While the competition was open to anyone, it was generally assumed the winner would belong to the police or fire departments. They’d been handing the title back and forth for years until Jace busted out a long-held family recipe and claimed the title five years in a row.

“You should have entered,” I said to Greyson, squeezing his hand. “You and your weird pot could have stolen the show.”

“Maybe next year,” he said with a chuckle.

“The judges’ table is this way.” I led him to the little stage at the far end of the lawn, set up with a long table in the middle, where Ed Endicott and the other judges had gathered to go over the rules that hadn’t changed in nearly fifty years.

“Sheriff,” I said by way of greeting as we climbed the stage steps, holding the container of mini cornbread aloft. “Where would you like these?”

Ed looked at us, looked pointedly at our joined hands, and cleared his throat. “Right there is fine.” He gestured to the end of the table with his clipboard.

Greyson squeezed my hand before letting it go. He set the tray of cinnamon rolls down and carried a smaller container over to Ed, his chin held high. “These are for you. Pumpkin streusel muffins. And those harvest moon cookies you like.”

Ed smiled and took them eagerly. “Thanks, kid. I’ve been meaning to ask you—no more problems at the store?”

Greyson smiled politely and shook his head. “No, sir.”

“Glad to hear it.” Ed nodded and turned back to the other judges to continue their conversation.

As soon as Greyson rejoined me, I leaned closer to him. “First he gets Karen Carlisle to knock off her shit, then he gets your sleazy landlord to actually install that security system? What the hell are you putting in those cookies?”

Greyson beamed at me, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Love and a little magic.”

“I’ll say.” I draped my arm over his shoulders, well aware that eyes started following us as we moved through the crowd. It was our first public appearance together and I wasn’t sure how it was going to play out.

“It’ll be fine,” Greyson said for the hundredth time, his fingers flexing against my hip. “No one is going to say any—well, except her.”

I didn’t even have time to ask who he was talking about. Monica stopped dead in her tracks in front of us, her jaw about on the ground.

“Chris?” Her wide eyes darted between Greyson and I at a dizzying speed.

“Hello, Monica,” Greyson said, much calmer than I was feeling at the moment.

“Wh-what are you doing?” she sputtered.

“Being a dedicated Mapletonian,” I answered as nicely as I could, already bristling in preparation for the scene that was sure to follow. “What are you doing here? You hate chili.”

“The girls from the salon entered.” Her attention zeroed in on Greyson and she took a small step forward, lowering her voice. “Are you two…?”

Greyson nodded.

“But that means…” Her lower lip quivered and her dark eyes flicked back to me. “Oh my God! I made you gay!”

“You didn’t—I’m not gay, Monica.” I sighed and closed my eyes, only slightly comforted by Greyson’s silent chuckling next to me. At least someone found the whole situation amusing.

Monica wasn’t listening. She raked her hands through her long dark hair, staring at the emptiness in front of her. “Oh my God! I can’t believe this is happening. When Jackie’s husband came out, we all laughed at her. We all said, ‘Girl! Didn’t you see the signs?!’ Now I’m the one who didn’t see the signs! I’m such an idiot!” She straightened, looking at me suddenly, eyes narrowing. “Yes, I did. Your house was always way too clean for a straight man. Plus all the time you were at the gym. And you were constantly bitching at me for leaving towels on the floor!”

“Because that’s gross!” I shot back. “It’s how they get mildewy!”

She still wasn’t listening. She’d gone back to her meltdown. “No one’s ever going to want to date me now. I ruined one of the best guys in Mapleton! I’m going to end up alone!”

Greyson slinked out from underneath my arm and walked up to her, taking her hands in his. “You didn’t ruin him. You helped him find his happily ever after. And I promise, one of these days, you’ll find yours.”

“You think?” She pouted up at Greyson.

He nodded. “I do.”

“You always know the perfect thing to say.” She brightened a bit. “Have I told you how much I love your energy? It’s so calming. I can see why Chris picked you. That and your ass.”

They both started laughing while I shifted uncomfortably on my feet. My boyfriend and my ex-girlfriend were laughing. Together. They shouldn’t be having a good time. Especially not at my expense. It was weird, like I was some outsider all of a sudden.

“What?” Monica snapped at me, giving me a disapproving face. “It’s true! You’ve always been an ass man. I mean, look!” She spun around and danced on her tip-toes, smashing her hip against Greyson’s so I could presumably compare their asses.

“Oh, Jesus.” I rubbed my forehead, looking directly at the ground.

“Isn’t that the ER doctor?” Greyson said suddenly.

Monica and I followed his gaze, but I was the only one who answered. “Yeah. Doc Reyes.”

“He’s cute,” Monica chimed in.

“His favorite color is green.” Greyson slid a pointed look at her emerald sweater.

Her eyes widened a bit and she tossed her dark curls over her shoulders. Tugging her sweater down so her cleavage was more exposed, she spread her hands expectantly at Greyson.

“You look beautiful.”

With a little squeal, she trotted off toward the doctor.

“Seriously?” I said, looking at him flatly. “You’re playing matchmaker for my ex ?”

He made a face back at me. “What? They’d be good together.”

“If she hated my schedule, what do you think she’s going to say about his?”

“If love can move mountains, it can amend schedules.”

“Ever the optimist.”

“It’s why you love me.”

“That and your ass, apparently.” I grabbed it in both hands and pulled him against me.

A blush spread across his cheeks as he glanced around shyly. “You’re really going to get people talking.”

“Now that Monica knows it’ll be all over town anyway. Besides, saves me the trouble.”

“There’s still one person you have to tell. And it’s going to be the scariest one.”

I didn’t want to even think about telling my dad. Luke was one thing. Having the town know? Also scary but not nearly as terrifying as coming clean to Dad. His approval meant everything and not having it would fucking kill me.

Rather than dwell on that troubling thought, I pressed a kiss to Greyson’s lips until a bell rang over the din, summoning contestants and spectators alike. Taking him by the hand, I said, “The judging is starting.”

He twined his fingers with mine and leaned against me, holding onto the crook of my arm as we walked toward the front of the crowd, making sure we stayed on the “blue” side of the event. A few whispers floated around us, a couple of surprised exclamations, but no one said anything to us directly, which was a relief.

The chili contestants hauled their crockpots up on stage and lined them up proudly. When Luke spotted us in front, he gave us two thumbs up. Jace, standing next to him, grinned and gave me a friendly chin nod.

The judges made their way down the row, sampling all of the entries, murmuring amongst themselves.

Karen Carlisle, the self-appointed emcee, trailed after them making commentary as if it were a televised event. “Do we have a winner?” she asked the judges as they huddled together at the far end of the table.

Ed handed her a slip of paper and she faced the crowd. “And the winner of this year’s—gun! There’s a gun!”

The crowd erupted into panicked shrieks and screams.

I threw my arm around Greyson’s shoulders and forced him downward as the first shot rang out. The bullet was so close I heard it whizz past my head.

“Stay down!” I didn’t give him a choice as I gripped him by the back of the neck and ran in a crouch, directing him to the rear of the stone obelisk that commemorated the founding of Mapleton.

Another shot went off, ricocheting off of the granite.

All around us, people shouted and screamed.

Taking cover behind the monument, I unholstered my gun and peered out at the chaos. It was hard to see much of anything in the commotion as people ran to and fro. Mothers picked up their kids. Fathers hugged their families. More than one person had fallen in the stampede as uniformed police and firemen swarmed the scene.

Some of the on-duty cops and firemen had formed a dog pile in the middle of the lawn. The citizens who weren’t injured scattered from the immediate area, giving them room.

“Stay here.” I got to my feet and hurried toward my coworkers, checking on a woman lying on the ground along the way. It was Amanda Berger.

“Are you ok?” I asked, holstering my gun underneath my flannel again and helping her sit up.

She held the back of her head, looking dazed. “Yeah, I think so. Do you see Jackson? I told him to run.”

“We’ll find him. I’m sure he just went home.”

She nodded and got to her feet unsteadily, calling Jackson’s name. I carried on to my coworkers.

Handcuffed, face-down on the ground, was the shooter. The gun lay on the trampled grass a foot away from his hand.

Donald fucking Nielsen.

I was about to lunge for the motherfucker when someone grabbed my shoulder and squeezed, a tactical maneuver I recognized from SOT.

“You alright?” Luke asked as he circled around me, reholstering his gun out of sight beneath his own flannel. Conveniently, he’d put himself between me and Greyson’s stalker.

“Yeah, you?”

He nodded quickly, pushing me back a step to make room for the pile of cops as they disentangled themselves from one another.

“You guys good?” I asked Edwards as he hauled Don up onto his feet, expecting to have a staring contest with the man who had made Greyson’s life hell. Except, Don wasn’t looking at me. His beady eyes had zeroed in on the obelisk and he refused to look anywhere else or even blink. He reminded me of a rabid dog and I was all too happy to put him down.

“Whoa. Easy.” Luke planted a hand in the center of my chest, pushing me back another step for good measure.

“Who knew Karen’s big mouth would come in handy, huh?” Edwards laughed, securing his hold on Don. Sergeant Kostka grabbed Don’s other arm and the two of them wrestled the asshole away to a waiting squad.

“Who the fuck shoots up a chili competition hosted by cops?” Luke said, shaking his head and looking over the scene in confusion before turning his gaze back to me. “Do you know that asshole?”

“It’s Greyson’s stalker.”

“ That was him? Fuck! I should have shot his ass when I had the chance.”

“You and me both. I’ll catch you later.” We clapped each other on the shoulder and went our separate ways, him to check on his great-uncle and me back to the obelisk.

When I turned the stone corner, Greyson was gone.

“Damn it.” I spun in a circle, looking for him in the sea of bodies.

Across the street, the crowd shifted. I spotted him kneeling on the sidewalk, Jackson Berger standing in front of him. Exhaling a breath, I jogged over to them, letting go of the ass-chewing I had started mentally preparing.

“We’ll wait right here,” Greyson said into his cell phone before hanging up and sliding it into his pocket. “Your mom is on her way.”

Jackson swayed from side to side, turning a bright rainbow-colored crystal over in his hands.

“Hey buddy,” I said to Jackson before shifting my attention to Greyson. “What’s going on?”

“Just hanging out. Chatting about crystals.” Greyson smiled, rising to his feet next to me.

“You didn’t stay,” I said under my breath. Just because he wouldn’t get an all-out ass-chewing, didn’t mean he was getting away scot-free.

“He was scared and alone,” he whispered back.

Nodding, I conceded him the win. If the roles had been reversed, I would have done the same thing. As the last bit of adrenaline started to subside, my stomach unknotted, little by little. Greyson was safe. My friends were safe. That motherfucker was in custody. That was all that mattered.

Turning to Jackson, I cleared my throat and gestured to the colorful blob in his hands. “That’s a cool rock, bud. What is it?”

“Ammolite,” Greyson answered for him. “It’s actually a fossilized crustacean. It’s good for knowledge, grounding, and even prosperity.”

“That’s good to know.” I still didn’t have the foggiest idea how rocks were magical, but I wasn’t going to question Greyson about it anymore.

A moment later, the crowd parted and Amanda rushed up to us, practically collapsing against Greyson. “Thank you!”

“Of course. He’s perfectly alright.”

She gave him a fleeting smile and hugged Jackson against her hip, hurrying him back down the sidewalk.

Once we were alone, I took Greyson’s face between my hands and searched his gaze for my answer, not the one he’d try to placate me with. “Are you alright?”

He nodded slowly before shaking his head quickly, tears welling in his gray eyes. Throwing his arms around my neck, he hugged me tightly, shaking like a leaf.

“It’s the adrenaline crash,” I said, closing my eyes and holding him, willing some of my ingrained calmness to leech into him. “You’ll be ok in a little bit. We’ll get something to eat and you’ll feel better soon. I promise.”

“It was him, wasn’t it?” He pulled back, looking at me with damp eyes, the gray looking as sad as rain clouds.

I nodded. “But we got him, baby. You don’t have anything to worry about. He can’t hurt you anymore and he can’t wiggle out of these charges. I promise. Not in Mapleton. Not after this. He’s going away for a very long time.”

Greyson slumped against me, exhaling the weight of the last two years and everything he’d endured. I held him upright, stroking the back of his head, thanking whatever it was that had kept us both safe—be it a miracle or magic or some combination of both.