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“I know you.”
His palms were sweaty, clammy. They were clenched tightly at his sides. At first, he paid no mind to the man passing him in the hallway (the man was in an orange jumpsuit, being escorted by a police officer). He had been left alone for a duration of time, trying to compose himself after the information he had just retained.
He was in no real legal trouble, at least not currently. He knew that good and well. That was not what he feared. It was his reputation he feared (which was truthfully already going down the toilet) and his career. Logically, there was nothing for him to worry about. It was a simple misunderstanding. He could trust that the detectives see it that way too.
“Did you know that man you’ve been reportedly seen with is wanted for murder?”
No, he hadn’t. And if he had, he would’ve reported it. And so, that’s what he told them. He told them the truth, well, most of the truth. There were parts he felt he had to leave out. The parts that weren’t in public… Such as the part where they– ahem. It was completely irrelevant anyway.
Then, he was forced to lie. And that was when he began to question his morality.
“What’s your relationship with the suspect, Mr. Hamlin?”
“Ah, well we’d only just met. The day before yesterday,” this part was true. “Friendly acquaintances you might say,” this part was not entirely true. “He’d asked me about places to eat around here. Told me he was new to the area. I didn’t think twice about it. So last night, I offered to show him to one of those restaurants I mentioned to him prior. Had I known– Well, you know, I would’ve reported it.”
The detectives nodded along, one of them writing in their little notepad. He couldn’t see what the man was writing, but he hoped it wasn’t incriminating. The room they sat in was dark and cold, and being on this side of an interrogation, it felt like a dungeon. “So you’re not his lawyer then? Since you say you’ve only recently met?” said the one who was writing.
“That is correct, and I have no intentions to represent him once his case is brought to trial,” Howard said.
“And how did you meet again?”
“Ah, as I said, he approached me and asked about a bite to eat,” he could feel himself beginning to sweat now. He was nervous, and nervousness was never good. It made you look guilty.
“The day before yesterday?”
“That is correct, detective. Yes.”
“So you two must have kept in some sort of contact between then and last night. Phone numbers, perhaps?” said the detective who was not writing.
“Well, actually no. He was outside of HHM yesterday. That was how we ran into each other the second time,” he felt sick.
“And you don’t think it’s strange that he knew where you worked?”
“Ah, well it’s not hard to figure out given my name.”
“So, you believe he was there for the sole purpose to see you? And why would that be?”
Howard shrugged, mostly to loosen his tight shoulders. “I have no idea, I assumed it was because he recognized my name and decided to stop by and say hi. I admit it’s a little odd, but nothing out of the ordinary. Happens all the time.” He paused for a moment, taking everything in. “Actually, given the information you’re telling me, I wouldn’t be surprised if he purposefully seeked me out due to my career choice.”
“And then you.., invited him.., to dinner with you?”
Howard almost gulped, it was becoming difficult to swallow. But he managed to hide it well, or at least he hoped he hid it well. “He brought up food again, so I offered to bring him. I was free that evening and had nothing else to do other than go home. I thought it would be a nice gesture,” he bowed his head. “I didn’t think it would end me up here.” And that was the truth.
The detectives exchanged a look and nodded simultaneously.
And that was how he ended up in the hallway, contemplating his recent life choices, and where he should take it from here.
"I know you," said the man in the orange jumpsuit again, a bit louder this time. "I saw you yesterday, I think."
Howard finally looked at him, wary.
“Yeah!” The man exclaimed. “You were with Salamanca!”
Salamanca? Howard furrowed his brows into a puzzled expression. He didn’t know who this man was talking about. He must have been mistaking him.
Unless, and there came that sick feeling again. He swallowed hard, his stomach clenching. He lied.
“At that restaurant, uh.., Tony’s! Right?” the prisoner grinned. “Boy, you have no idea what you’re getting into, do ya?”
The guard restraining the man in the orange jumpsuit looked at him, his face twisted with shock and fear at the name Salamanca . He then turned to his prisoner, kicked him in the back of the ankle, and then they were gone, down the hall and out of sight.
Howard bowed his head and closed his eyes. The whole situation was crazy, impossible. And yet, here he was. And even after all of this, he was still trying to figure out what to do once he saw him again. Because last night– it was amazing. It was everything. And he didn’t know if he could turn his back on it. Murderer, or innocent.
He didn’t know the details of the case, nor did he want to know. It was an incredibly ignorant decision on his part, and he understood that. But what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him, right?
Except, it could. This wasn’t just any regular ‘everyone has skeletons in the closet’ situation. If what the police were telling him was true, and they sounded pretty sure, (and let’s not mention that inmate’s warning, shall we?) then this was a literal skeleton. And Howard had no business, nor gain, interacting with murderers.
So why.., why did he feel so torn about this?
He was finally home that same night. He was pouring himself a drink, not even undressed yet, when the doorbell rang. He stood in his kitchen for a solid five minutes, completely still like a deer in the headlights. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he felt a tightness building up inside his chest. He exhaled deeply, and inhaled just as deeply. He felt lightheaded, ill, and a bit scared. But he also felt a tinge of excitement, which then led to him feeling guilty.
The doorbell rang again, and then again immediately after, as if the man at the door had hit it twice in a row. Likely out of impatience. He would know that Howard was home thanks to the presence of his car in the driveway.
And now that Howard was thinking about it, wasn’t it strange that the man found a way around his grate and to the front door? He didn’t have visitors often, but when he did, his guests always used the gate. Why did this man feel the need to sneak around it? What was he hiding?
Don’t kid yourself, Howard. You know what he’s hiding, he thought to himself. And yet, his body worked against him. He set his glass of champagne down on top of the kitchen counter, and hesitantly walked in the direction of his front door. He wet his lips, wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, adjusted his jacket, and then he was there. Standing before the front door with a murder suspect standing behind it.
He didn’t need to check through the window. He already knew who it was.
He opened the door. The man greeted him with a big grin.
“Ah! Howie! How are you?”
Howard stepped to the side and the man entered, shutting the door behind him. His smile didn’t waver despite the uneased expression that was no doubt written all over Howard’s face. Instead, the man reached his hand, touched Howard’s shoulder, and opened his mouth to speak.
However, Howard beat him to the punch.
“Jorge..,” he could hear the undeniable fear in his own voice, threatening to break its otherwise steadiness. He felt so small. “I wasn’t expecting you.” He was.
“Aha, my apologies for stopping by so late. Say, you work tomorrow, don’t you?” Howard nodded without really knowing he did. “Then I won’t stick around for long.” Jorge placed both hands on Howard’s shoulders and gave them a squeeze. “Now tell me, what’s wrong?”
Howard gulped, looked down at Jorge’s hand, and then sighed deeply. He closed his eyes, unable to face the man who gave him the best night of his life. “Jorge.., isn’t your real name. Is it?”
When he opened his eyes, the big grin was gone, and replaced with a soft, dare he say gentle smile.
“Ah.., so that’s what this is about?” the man sighed and bowed his head. He kept his hands on Howard’s shoulders, steadying himself. “I like you, Howie. I don’t want to make things difficult, but–”
“I have no intentions in going to the police, if that’s what you’re concerned about,” Howard said quickly, cutting him off. He didn’t fully process what he was saying until it was already spilling out. But he knew it was the truth, the shameful truth. “I just need to know.”
The man sighed and took a step forward so they were mere inches apart. He leaned towards him, his hot breath touching Howard’s lips. “I’ll tell you the truth. But let me do just one thing first,” he spoke in a hushed tone. His voice was trustworthy and soft, but his eyes read as wild and dangerous.
Howard swallowed anxiously, but gave him a hesitant nod.
The now-unnamed man didn’t hesitate. He closed the gap between them, locking their lips together. Howard shuddered at his warmth and took the bait, kissing the man back. Memories of the night before clouded his brain and his judgment. Suddenly, nothing could separate them. No obstacle, not even crime. This man he’d only known for hardly two full days was somehow the only light that was currently lit in his life. With his damaged image, his hurting career, his failures in his personal life, he couldn’t think of anything better. There was no better pay off than this.
He placed his hands on the unnamed man’s waist and leaned into him. He could feel himself smiling, and when the man disconnected their lips and placed a tender kiss on the corner of his mouth, he smiled wider. This was right. It had to be. Suffering, karma, it always had to end somewhere. And if he was suffering in nearly all areas of his life, then something had to give eventually. And this was it. At least, that was what he hoped.
The other man kissed his jaw, next to his ear, and Howard could feel the other man grinning against his skin. “Eduardo,” he said quietly.
Howard blinked open his eyes and looked at him. “What?”
“Eduardo Salamanca,” the man said, giving him a sly, but charismatic grin. “But you can call me Lalo.”
“Lalo..,” Howard repeated. The name tasted sweet like honey on his tongue, and he smiled. Because this was right, it had to be right. “Thank you, Lalo.”
“Eh, well I should get going. Have to be up bright and early, am I right?”
Howard nodded, but then immediately shook his head. “Well, yes. But.., Lalo…” he hesitated because he felt a bit ridiculous given everything that he knew, and yet, he’s still choosing this. Choosing him. “You’re welcome to spend the night if you would like–” He wet his lips and leaned into Lalo’s arms.
“Eh?” Lalo raised an eyebrow, watching him closely. The smile on his face was riddled with amusement, and his eyes bright and full of life.
“I would like you to stay,” Howard stated more honestly.
Lalo smiled and wrapped his arms fully around him, pulling Howard into his own body. Lalo rested his head on top of Howard’s shoulder, and Howard did the same, closing his eyes.
They stood like that for a while. Inhaling each other’s scent, enjoying each other’s body heat. And soon, they shamelessly became sick of the clothes that stood in the way of their touch, and they removed them without a second thought.